Mad Mare

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Into the Wasteland
Chapter 2 - Once upon a dreadful morning
Chapter 3 - Town in a crater
Chapter 4 - David and Goliath
Chapter 5 - Beyond the Thunderdome

Chapter 1 - Into the Wasteland

Sand.

An infinite, from what it seemed, blanket of sand stretched far and wide in all directions. Rocky dunes and hills bumped seldomly towards the bright blue sky like little folds on a worn off carpet. A few stone peaks jagged the horizon in blurry dark razors. Lifeless shredded chunks of puffy white clouds drifted peacefully across the heavens. A blazing yellow globe crept steadily above the pursuit unit of three cars. They raced fast in a triangular formation. Columns of airborne sand, bursted up from behind their back wheels, quickly falling back down under their own weight. A long, jagged tarantass vanguarded the formation. A rectangular flat cargo hold took up half of the as rectangular machine. A square platform was welded to the front of the metal frame of the contraption.

A pale-mauve mare stood bound, as if crucified, to a makeshift cross, made out of scrap-metal pipes. Her forehooves were bound behind her back in heavy shackles. Her hind legs were wrapped in chains, securing them to the base of the metal cross. A hefty and cumbersome collar squeezed her neck like a hangpony’s morbid noose. Her face was covered up by a rusty muzzle as if she was a wild animal. A stingy feeling of pain spread from her collarbone. A big hook-like needle was burrowing deep into her body, wrapped around the bone and piercing the subclavian artery; mugging the body off of its blood and sending it down a small plastic tube encased into a chain to the driver. White baggy sackcloth pants sheeted her legs, wrinkling and trembling under the pressure of the wind. Her torso was dressed in a long sleeved shirt of the same cut. Her head was wrapped in a long piece of the identical linen fabric, completely masking one of her eyes. Nevertheless, she was able to see right through the cloth, due to its structure, while others could not see what was underneath it.

Mare’s breathing was shallow and uneven from the suffocating heaviness of the pressurized hot and arenaceous air in front of the car, as well as the choking collar on her slender neck. A mix of decaying metal and burnt silicone smells left a crunchy taste of rust and sand in her mouth. Sun’s heat bathed her, radiating off of the fiery metal around her. A very angry twelve-cylinder spell-boosted liquid-coal engine roared from behind the dam; slightly out of sync from the other two motors nearby, creating the irritating sound of dissonant echo that scraped mare’s ears. It was loud, however, it wasn’t loud enough to cover the squabbling of her captors.

“Go faster!” The lancer, like a screaming sick parrot scraping its beak maniacally on a plate, yelled from the cargo basket in the back of the car, leaning over cabin’s back window and peaking into a moon door above the driver.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” The driver barked back angrily with a surprisingly soothing though frail voice, like an acoustic guitar with strings pressed not hard enough. If not the circumstances, I would have guessed that he could sing quite nicely. It sounded familiar somehow.

“We’ve been chasing the fuckers for hours.”

“Are you in a rush?”

“I’m bored! Just catch up to them!”

“Do I look like an entertainer to you?”

“You look too dead for my taste,” The lancer paused, “the bloodbag, on the other hoof...”

“Shut it, Zeal!”

The lancer snorted, “Weak-ass...”

“What did you just say?”

“You are weak. Mellow. Just look at you: can’t even hit gas without your bloodbag.” He mocked. “And the best part, the bloodbag’s a mare!”

“I warn you.” The driver audibly twisted a knob on the dashboard, making the hood rumble.

“Don’t tell me you will start acting like a filly soon!” He laughed sincerely.

“Shut your trap, Zeal!”

“Have your balls fallen off already or does that come after The Flawless finds out you failed this foal’s game of a task?”

“Die in a fucking fire!” The driver slammed a button on the dashboard. The rumbling stopped. In its place, came the explosive roar of the engine and the flaming exhaust from the pipes. A painful jolt shocked mare’s body, she felt her sides burning from the fire and heating metal all around her, even if she was safely distanced from the flames.

The car jarred forward, sending Zeal flying back. The stallion audibly grabbed the rim of the cargo basket and cracked maniacally, “Yes! Yes! This is the Spike I know!”

Seeing became harder and painful as more grains of sand and dirt came shooting into the mare’s eyes, like small rubber bullets colliding with unprotected skin; fortunately, the cloth over her eye helped. She squinted, her entire body stiffening. The car broke the formation, rushing away from the other two. The enginal dissonance faded away, leaving the pure and untempered excited roaring. It was like music to the mare’s ears. She afforded to relax slightly, her ears perking up under the fabric, her eyes closed peacefully. A humble little smile grew under the rusty muzzle.

In the distance, no more than a couple of kilometers away, the mare spotted a buggy. She was not the only one. A loud and enthusiastic “There’s the booty!” screeched from behind her, coming from Zeal. The machine was bulky, made from haphazardly welded together scraps and attached to a high-suspension frame. The targeted vehicle was going diagonally from the pursuiters; the latter had no intention of trailing behind, they were driving preemptively, hoping to cut the buggy off. A reasonable strategy if not for what was going their way. The horizon ahead was uneven, like a mahogany mountain was rising out of nowhere and enveloping the skies. It was bubbling and swirling around, rolling fast towards the cars like a smoky tsunami of sand, rocks, and dirt. Streaks of dull red light burst somewhere deep inside the grounded cloud, barely visible from the outside. They were driving into the sandstorm.

The restrained mare shivered as the realization of what is to come washed over her. Her eyes widened, breath stuck in place, heart skipped a bit. She turned her head sharply to a side, hoping her gaze would reach the driver, but the collar was too tight and began to pull out individual hairs out of her neck and burning her skin before she could achieve what she wanted. The dam squinted from pain, gritting her teeth as her head returned to the initial position. The metal behind her began to heat as well, starting to burn her back. The engine was overheating.

The sandstorm was much closer now and closening in fast, and the cars were driving right into it. Waves of poorly restrained shivers ran across mare’s body. The sight was clearly horrific to her. Was it because of the sheer size of the bubbling cloud of sand and rocks that stood almost fifteen hundred meters high? Was it because she knew how deadly such a beast can be and how slowly and painfully she would die if she happened to get into one while tied to the dune-racing car’s hood with no protection in sight? Was it the combination of the two? Or maybe it was something else? The answer is unknown.

The buggy was no more than a couple hundred meters away from the pursuit vehicle, giving the pale-mauve mare a chance to better see it. What caught her attention was the contraption in the back of the machine. An H-like frame that held a barrel was sticking out of an arched opening in the trunk. The dam slightly tilted her head questioningly. This must have been confusing for her, like she was trying to comprehend what it was, but failing.

Her expression changed once more; fear once again was surfacing on her face as the buggy suddenly changed its course, going towards her. Its suspension was higher than that of the pursuit vehicle, its tires wider and heavier, its bottom was armored, as if a shell of a turtle, probably capable of withstanding a mine exploding under it. It was going to run her over and it was quickly shortening the distance with only a small bump of sand separating the two. Mare’s body tensed up, convulsing from side to side, trying to escape. Unfortunately, her struggles were completely negated by the shackles that kept her tightly bound to the cross.

A big puff of sand burst into the air as the monstrous wheels of the buggy dug into the small elevation of a dune and scattered it. The car jumped, no longer bound to ground, and flew towards the pursuit vehicle, moments away from crashing it. This was the moment Spike reacted. The steering wheel angled sharply, the clutch pedal hit the floor with a forced thud as the hoofbrake cricketed back. The tarantass spun half circle, surfing the sands. The chains and shackles bit into the mare’s skin, burning and bruising it, clawing their way to the blood; the collar on her neck began to choke, no longer allowing her to breathe in or out. The buggy crashed to the ground, sending a cloud of sand in the air once again; its suspension sending it into a second jump. Zeal was prepared, already holding a boomstick in his teeth. Once the car turned, the lancer threw it at the pursuited vehicle. The spear-like explosive weapon detonated under the target, sending little pieces of rock and metal fragments flying in all directions. One piece had grazed dam’s front leg, tearing a hole through her white robes and staining them with blood. The wound was burning, making the mare grit her teeth, but it was not too bad, fading away as Spike performed another U-turn, now following the buggy.

The H-like contraption in the back of the followed car finally revealed itself to be a harpoon. A long metal spike blasted out of the barrel, tearing through the air with a loud whistle and pulling a shiny thick cable behind it. The tip of the harpoon whizzed by just a couple of centimeters away from the mare’s face, sending shivers down her spine and turning her expression to a horrified one. The cable stretched, beginning to pull on the pursuit vehicle. The car began to wobble as Spike tried his best to operate the dragged machine. He zig-zagged in an attempt to throw the buggy off balance. His opponent hopped from one wheel to another but did not give in. The cable began to pull harder, like an owner of a very enthusiastic dog.

The sky darkened. Once clear blue, it was completely submerged in bubbling mahogany clouds, rolling in and out of themselves like concentrated smoke, curving down to the earth like a massive wave about to crush down on a shore.

“Cut the wire and take her inside!” Spike ordered his lancer. Zeal jumped across the roof, stopping right behind the mare. He grunted, using the bolt cutter to detach the cable. In a flash, he succeeded. The wire snapped, whistling through the air like a whip of a very angry lion tamer. The tip of the wire slammed into the cross, behind the mare’s neck, cutting through the metal like it was butter. The cross began to topple, tilting forward slightly before stopping. Mare’s head fell forward, no longer bound to the pipes. The wire coiled around her neck, like a snake, pulling her forward. If it wasn’t for the cumbersome collar, she would have a splattered bulk of bloody minced meat instead of the head and neck.

Zeal snorted behind the dam. His teeth bit the chain that went from the collar down to the driver and pulled it back. He tried unlocking the collar, his hooves shaking it violently where the lock once used to be and now only had a cluster of crooked and mutilated metal. He quickly gave up on trying to unlock the shackles and bucked the base of the cross, snapping it off of the car and freeing the mare. The pipes flew free before crashing into the sand and dancing in it as the pursuit vehicle zoomed past it.

The sandstorm was just moments before impact with the car. Zeal yanked the chain, sending the mare siding across the roof, down to the pickup-like trunk, followed closely by Zeal himself. The dam fell onto the hard surface of the cargo hold, her face upwards, getting the last glimpse of the clear blue sky somewhere far behind her and the blackening mahogany cloud before her. Zeal slid on the roof, dropping down on the mare, right as the wall of sand and rocks punched the car and enveloped it. The sunlight was no more, everything was dark russet. Big glistening grains and small pebbles flew all around the car, hitting and ricocheting from it like droplets of water in heavy rain.

Zeal’s figure unintentionally protected most of the mare’s body, covering it with his own and allowing her to get a better look at one of her captors. The stallion was an above averagely sized (that still dwarfed the mare in a comparison) unicorn with a visibly malnutritioned body, though physically trained. He was barely dressed, only wearing empty cargo pants the color of wet sand, torn in several places near his knees and ankles with deep skin scarring underneath -- the aftermath of countless road conflicts. His skin was covered in layers of a dried up mix of sandy white clay and ashes, cracking and flaking off on the face and joints. He had deep scars on both cheeks, as if they were torn apart with a wire or a blade from lips to ears; stapled together amateurly with large titanium clips. His blood red eyes were opened wide, staring directly at the mare, masut painted around them and jaggedly scraped back to the temples.

Zeal stood up, stepping aside and picking up a pair of goggles with his blood-red aura. Swiftly putting them on, he looked through the back window of the car. The mare was still bound by shackles, her front hooves were chained together, so were her hind legs, but now she at least could move. Her body contracted as if trying to jump off of the car but was stopped immediately.

A surge of pain on her stomach, spreading across her left side like waves on the disturbed water, as a gun grip kicked into it. She squealed, clenching her teeth. Zeal stepped over her, pushing his front hooves into her shoulders and pressing a double barrel shotgun wrapped into red aura against her neck. “Oh no, you don’t, missy.” He gritted, his crimson eyes staring straight into her soul. She shivered. “I don’t know why he’s protecting you,” The stallion continued, “but he can’t do shit here. You are all mine right now, I can do whatever I please with you and no one will come to rescue.” He spat a little, emphasizing no one, “So you better be on your best behavior,” the stallion pressed the shotgun harder, “or your head will go puff.” He hovered his head over her face, taking a deep sniff. The pale-mauve mare grew paler. she closed her eyes, facing away from her captor. Her breathing was held up from discomfort, bordering fear, and the suffocating smell of decaying flesh, old blood, rust, coal, and alcohol that filled the cargo hold. The place was filthy. It probably wasn’t cleaned in months. At least months. Her body was shivering and trembling. Tears began to form on the corners of her eyes as she lowered her hooves, acknowledging her preemptive defeat.

“Good filly.” Zeal cracked.

The car skipped on a rock. The shotgun press harder against the top of mare’s neck. She hesitantly opened her eyes. The lancer’s gaze moved forward on the road and stayed there, allowing her to take a look around. The cargo hold was mostly empty: several bags covered in tarpaulin and strapped to the sides, the bolt cutter Zeal used earlier to detach the harpoon, a coil of chains, and several bundles of boom-sticks, wrapped together with a wire and covered over. One of the bundles was open, sticks scattered beside the coiled chain.

The engine skipped a beat, purring tiredly. Waves of vibrations enveloped the entire car; the movement was jagged and jumpy. The machine began to drag and slow down. Several valves by the driver’s seat turned audibly. Gears shifted with a loud screech and the rumbling extinguished itself, movement returned to being even and as smooth as the road allowed.

The car skipped once again, but with a much greater magnitude. All aboard were sent flying into the air. The lancer was clearly accustomed to such rough rides: his hoof was already pulling him back onto the flooring while the mare was still comprehending what was going on. Instinctively he floated the shotgun close, leaving the mare unsupervised. A big mistake on his part. She felt the opportunity come her way and used it. Her body twisted, sending her into a violent spin. Her hind leg kicked the weapon, imploding the aura around it and sending it flying into the sandstorm. Zeal turned his head sharply towards her, burning blood-thirst and hatred mixed with genuine surprise in his eyes. His hooves touch the floor; his horn glowing once again, already beginning to envelop the mare into the bright red aura.

The car dropped to the ground, its suspension sending it back up for a smaller hop. The dam used the momentum and the position she had, dropping both of her chain-heavy hind legs onto his propelled-upwards head, disrupting his concentration. In most cases, such a hit would have caused a concussion at the very least. But being a warfoal has its toll on the body. Zeal shook his head, not losing his footing. Dazed, his eyes took a moment to focus, a moment the mare dropped on the floor. Not losing her momentum, she spun around, kicking stallion’s front hooves. His face smashed into the car, as the mare sprung upwards, getting hit by the debris from the storm right away. Sand scraped her open cheek. An old rusty street sign that flew gracefully, propelled by the gusts of wind, hit mare’s back. Her body crashed to the floor, burning waves of pain enveloping her body.

The mare glanced up only to see lancer’s lit up horn as the chain that fell from her neck began to glow with the same red. She looked in terror, realizing what is going to happen and trying to brace for impact. Too late. His magic pulled the metal, slamming her head into the back window of the pursuit vehicle. The glass cracked as blood from her nose and slit eyebrow sprinkled the fissures. Pain engulfed her face. The chain pulled the other way. The mare got air towards off the car. But before she did, she managed to lay a solid buck into Zeal’s face. The magic imploded once again, letting the mare fly free. The chain pulled back, propelling the mare back to the car. She crushed into the same back window, rolling down onto her back. Her gaze went up to Zeal, who was about to stomp on her. She bucked, her back hooves crushing into stallions torso, sending him flying off the car and into the sand. In a flinch, he disappeared in the storm.

Dam’s body felt heavy, her breathing was heavy. She looked over to the bolt cutters, then back down to her rusty metal muzzle. A deep trembling sigh escaped her lips as if she was about to cry. She shook it off, getting up before her ears perked up under the cloth at a clicking sound from the driver’s seat. She glanced at the back window only to see her jaded reflection and a loaded six-shot revolver pointed at her from the driver's seat. Her body tensed up in an attempt to duck, but it was too late. The gunshot. A ball of light and fire and smoke burst out of the weapon. A bullet flew towards the mare’s face, just under the uncovered eye. The lead pallet buried itself in the muzzle that covered dam’s face, creating a fissure along its length. The slug erupted, filling the heavy mahogany air with sparkling lead glitter. She dropped onto the floor. Two more shots rang and the window shattered, covered the mare with broken glass.

Her gaze went up as the tarantass burst out of the firm wall of sandy clouds, right into the heart of the storm. Brick-red dome of sand blew violently around a massive cone of even stronger winds. Flaming streaks of overpowered lighting, pierced the crimson nebula with irregular eagerness, leaving trails of fire and molten glass behind. The sight was mesmerizing and horrifying at the same time.

Two more pursuit vehicles emerged from the sandy air wall, rushing their way behind the tarantass and bringing back the discord of enginal orchestra. The mare cried out, feeling betrayed in this unfair situation. One of the new pursuiters was a bulky conestoga with a raised suspension and sand tires. Its frame was reinforced with a welded pipes and metal sheets, giving it a more distinct edgy shape. A cumbersome, out of place supercharger stuck out of its hood. Its roof was turned into a gunner’s platform. The other car was a widened, heavier surrey. Its roof, just like the conestoga, was welded into a platform with railing and an empty turret mount. The tires on the thing were bigger than other cars, shredded with spikes for crossroad conditions.

The mare took a quick peek over the side of the car. Spike was still chasing the buggy that was only a few hundred meters away from him. She turned back. Two cars behind boosted, flames bursting out of long exhaust pipes on their sides. They were closing distance and they were closing it fast. The conestoga maneuvered to the side, driving just beside the tarantass. The surrey swerved behind the Spike’s car. That was when an earth pony covered in the same white clay and black masut jumped out of the conestoga’s moonroof and onto the platform. It was an averagely sized young mare, if not still a filly, that probably just became the warfoal. She was dressed in cargo pants and a plated torso guard. Her hooves were bare and so was her head, revealing short black mane that blew haphazardly behind her. A battle saddle was strapped to her back, carrying two long barrels on its sides. A long handle protruded from the firearm, bending upwards towards her mouth, acting as the firing mechanism. Just a nip and the bullets come raining down upon a poor target. In this case, the target was the pale-mauve mare.

The filly took up battle stances, her movements were clumsy and not firm. She aimed the guns at the mare, her teeth just a hesitant nibble away from the handle’s trigger mechanism.The conestoga leveled itself with the tarantass, riding just beside it. An earth pony stallion creeped out of the passenger seat like a spider. He was scrawny and malnourished, painted awkwardly into the same white clay with patches of exposed yellowish hide. His whole head was painted into even black vertical lines all the way from the neck down to the nape. He fell clumsily onto the rooftop platform with a loud crash and sprung right back up, shaking his head. He pulled out a six-shot revolver and grasped it tightly with his teeth.

The inescapableness of the situation washed over the mare. Her ears fell flat to her head. Her mouth was silently mumbling muttering words. Her head turning from side to side in the process as if two different individuals were controlling it. A loud click rang from the gunner filly - she was ready to fire. The mare froze, squeezing her body to the wall behind her, an expression of terror on her face. The gunner was hesitant, almost closing the jaws on the trigger, but opening them back up. The terrified mare shook her head softly, discouraging the filly from gunning her down. A shot rang. A bullet that came from surrey’s unicorn stallion driver the mare didn’t even notice hit her pastern, digging a hole in it. She cried out as a feeling of pain and burning had pierced her, like a sting of a honey bee. Her body swung along with the bullet and hit the floor. Blood sprinkled from the wound and painted the flooring in fresh crimson dots.

A blinding bolt of glowing vermillion lightning burned across the skies and striking the ground right by tarantass’ front left corner. Spike hit the brakes and steered the opposite direction, hitting both other persuiters at once. The yellow stallion fell down, losing the grip of the revolver. The filly was thrown off of her platform and into tarantass’ cargo hold. some of her poorly fastened battle saddle straps came undone during the fall, one of which got stuck in the coiled up the chain. The chain that slid off the car and under the surrey’s wheels.

The pale-mauve jumped forward at the gunner filly, crying out as every move caused her excruciating pain. She fell down by the boomsticks, scaring the gunner filly by the sharp movement, just as the chain wrapped around the forward axis of the surrey. The filly got pulled back by the few straps that still were fastened on her. She was going to get minced under the wheels. The mauve mare bit on one of the boomsticks, the fissure in the muzzle barely giving enough access for the teeth, and threw it at one of surrey’s front wheels. An eruption of flames and smoke punched the car up in the air with a deafening boom. The metal carcass flipped itself before crashing back down with a crunching and scraping sound.

The earth pony barely held on to the car, her hind hooves dragging on the sand. The mauve mare bit on filly’s mane, pulling her back up with. Her eyes filled with tears as she had to stand on the shot leg. As let go of the filly, sending her onto the firm flooring of tarantass’ cargo hold, the stallion to the side fired three times with the speed of a black mamba bite. Bullets whistled violently through the air. One missed them entirely, flying an inch under mare’s stomach. Another grazed the nape of her neck, tearing a streak of skin off. The last struck her already injured front leg, piercing through it like it was made of butter, and borrowing itself in the floor underneath. She felt like a small swarm of bees stung her again and again into traumatized limb while a heapful of smoldering coals burnt her neck. She screamed, tears blurring her sight and falling down.

Two cars neared the exit from the storm: another condensed wall of sand and rocks. Another crimson lightning lit the skies on fire, raining down glistening grains of glass. Random chunks of scraps and debris that was picked up by the winds, flew haphazardly all around. A long piece of bent metal whistled through the skies and came down like onto conestoga’s supercharger and bouncing off of it. The bulky box of metal on the car’s hood set ablaze, sending streaks of flame and smoke out of every cylinder. The metal projectile flew towards the terrified ex-gunner filly.

The mauve mare jumped in front of her without hesitation. The bent spear punched through her stomach with a thump, staining the white linen robes in crimson and sending her in a spin. She didn’t feel pain, just a momentary pressure and then nothing but the hot wet stickiness of the blood, running down her stomach. Three shots rang as the cars hit the sandy wall. One of them hit the mare’s back, piercing through it, grazing filly’s leg and disappearing in the flooring. The mare didn’t care anymore. The only thing she could manage to do was to give a weak but warm reassuring smile to the filly. Her body was too heavy and numb to move.

Only one car left the storm.

Spike hit the brakes, cricketed the hoofbrake and jumped out of the tarantass. The filly looked horrified at the impaled mare, not daring to come near.

“This looks bad.” He stated, approaching the dam, “Saving youngsters who were tasked with killing you again?” He joked, pulling out a small box from the driver’s seat and placing it down beside her. The shiny chrome container squeaked open, revealing several small flasks of green and orange liquids, a box of painkillers and a roll of bandages. “This will hurt.” He announced, standing behind the mare, placing one hoof on her back and biting the metal. She just rolled her eyes with a tortured sigh.

He jabbed the metal out of mare’s body. Her heavy body dropped with a loud thump, a tired scream escaping her mouth. The stallion quickly turned her over, shoving an open flask into her mouth. The liquid was bitter and tart, but she drank it as if already accustomed to the taste. The bleeding began to stop, her wounds slowly getting smaller. “These are weak, but they will do.” He said, opening the second one. A hoof stopped him from pouring it down her throat. The mare pointed at the fillies deeply grazed leg.

“This is a scratch, you need it more, please, drink it.” The filly spoke. Her voice was surprisingly sweet and melodic, like a newly blossoming flower.

The mare did not resist anymore. Another gulp of the potion went down. Her vision began to clear. She could finally see what Spike looked like. A tall, fit earth pony stallion with a clay and mazut painted body. He had deep sapphire eyes that looked along the horizon, checking if anyone was coming. His lips were dried up and shriveled, his surprisingly well taken care of teeth peeking through. “Even though I had to kill you, you still saved my flank, just like you save her flank just now.” He nodded to the filly, whose clay began to droop, revealing her mantis-green coat that matched her emerald eyes. “Then, you saved my flank again when that shitface Blitz blasted me with a shotgun. And then again when Red and Pimpy grew hungry and ate away all my life juices.” He pointed at two lumps on his neck while pulling out the hook that was still under mare’s collarbone. “Time I finally started repaying you.” That made the mare chuckle and cough at the same time. Spike opened a flask of orange liquid and poured it in mare’s mouth. It tasted sweet and spicy. A surge of newfound strength overtaken the mare. She nodded in appreciation.

The earth pony filly passed the bolt cutter to Spike. He snapped the chains, but no matter how hard he tried, not the braces nor the collar, nor the muzzle would come off. The mauve mare gestured that it was ok. She got up.

“Eight years ago, you’ve shown me that there is still good in this damned shithole.” Spike lectured, “Today you have proven it once again. You can never come back to the Citadel, but neither I or this one can follow you.”

The mare’s face expressed concern.

“Don’t worry.” Spike reassured, “To the Flawless everything will look like an accident: the storm came in and destroyed the cars. And blew you to pieces as well, as far as I know. I cannot give you a car or a gun. But take this.” He pulled out a pair of saddle bags. “There is a map, a compass, a canister of water, and a can of potatoes.” He placed it onto the mare. She squealed, her entire body still aching. “If you ever need help, know that you have at least one pony in the Citadel who is on your side.” Spike added.

“Two.” The filly added, “There are two...”

Chapter 2 - Once upon a dreadful morning

It was quiet. Not the uneasy quiet that foreshadows a dreadful end, but a peaceful, relaxing silence that filled the air, carried on chilly streams of a night breeze. The glowing pale moon floated high above the horizon, peeking shamefully through the cotton candy clouds that looked blue in their own shadows. The refreshing smell of clear air filled the mare’s lungs. She was cold, her body was trembling viciously in the near-zero temperatures of the Wasteland’s after dark. Her near closed wounds were still trickling. Most of her body ached with every step as the near-empty canteens bumped against her sides inside the saddlebags. The heavy shackles clinked on her hooves. The collar weighed mare’s neck down. The torn steel muzzle on her face shone in the moonlight like a mouth full of pearly white fangs of a wild beast, polished by the sandstorm she lived through. Her once white clothes had gone black from all the dried up and crumbling blood that had begun to decompose.

She was walking for almost an entire day with only a single fifteen-minute break to eat the one-meal rations Spike offered. The map turned out to be useless in the end as well. The mare had no idea where she started from nor had she spotted any memorable landmarks on the way, just the infinite dunes of sand and rocky hills.

Her lips were murmuring something incomprehensible, her ears perking up one moment and falling flat against her head the other, her head twitching infrequently as if shaking off an annoying interlocutor.

“Shut up!” She finally burst, her voice like a spoonful of alfalfa honey on a sore throat. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Her words sounded hoarse and weak from dehydration on fatigue.

She dropped to the ground, covering her ears with her hooves. The sand on top of the dune began to drift, picking up the mare and carefully washing her down to the bottom. The saddlebags sipped off, surfing the sands right beside her; a small gleaming metal locket the shape of a heart falling out of her white robes and onto her chest, dangling on a petite chainlet. Shining goldenrod olive branches and a six-point star with one of the beams longer than the others, enchased the rim of the heart, contrasting on its lustrous licorice crystalline texture.

She sprung up, her head near the ground like a cat sneaking up on an unsuspecting little bird. “You are doubting yourself.” Her voice grew lower, rougher, more arrogant.

Her stances changed in an instance, taking up the look of a cornered and soon to be eaten rodent. “I’m not!”

“Then how come I am here? No longer able to contain me?” Her lower lip dropped mockingly.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear this anymore!”

“Why lie to yourself? You are scared...” She analyzed her hoof, “Scared to die in the middle of nowhere. Scared to die alone.”

“I’m not dying here! Not like this.”

“Not if I can do something about it.”

“I’m never letting you control my body.”

“A day or more of mindless wondering and you will have no choice but to lose control.”

“Never!”

“You know you need me, you cannot survive without me.” She said calmly.

“You need me, not the other way around!”

“You know that is not true. I’m what this body ever was, is and always will be; you are just the product of naive ambitions of mom and dad... And you know where those got them.”

“Don’t you dare drag our parents into this.” It looked like she was expecting a comeback, but nobody came. Wind puffed lightly as if sighing at her.

Her gritting teeth relaxed. She looked around: quiet nothingness, but a single muffled sound she could not place together. Then it hit her. An engine running on idle. She threw the saddlebags on with a single sweeping motion and galloped towards the sound. The sound grew closer with each passing step, only a small hill stood in between it and the mare. She dashed onto it like a mountain goat. In front of her, just a few hundred meters away, stood an old abandoned village. Just a dozen concrete two-story boxes lined up in an equal sign and a big square building at the end of the two rows. Remnants of broken down scattered asphalt were all that was left of the road that once connected the structures together. There was no intact window in sight. All the concrete was worn off and beginning to crumble. A three-wheel tanga was parked in the middle of the street, engine idly purring under the driver’s seat. There was no one in sight.

The mare sneaked towards the nearest building. It was quiet. She peeked through an empty window frame beside her. Nothing. She paused, thinking for a moment, before jumping inside as quietly as possible. The insides were empty, what could have been taken was taken, what could have been painted was painted, what could be broken was broken. The walls were layered with graffiti of vulgar language and inappropriate drawings of various body parts. A thick layer of disturbed dust covered the surprisingly intact floor. Everything was covered in hoofsteps. A pile of decaying planks that once were a cupboard piled a corner.

The mare left the room, ending up in a long hallway that crossed the building. She moved cautiously alongside it, avoiding entering the rooms. In the middle of the corridor, she saw a staircase leading upstairs. The second floor looked identical to the first one. There were loud voices at the end of the hallway, a male and a female chatting about something, their voices echoing from the walls too much to understand what they were saying. The mare sneaked closer, standing just beside an empty doorway into the room where others stood.

“Eh… I ain’t ‘bout dis one, it’s too plain.” The male voice considered.

“Tiss a’t. Someone’ll buy it.” The female replied.

“If ya wanna take it, take it, but I ‘ain’t holding it.”

“Fine...” The female audibly rolled her eyes.

The room was similar to others with a few differences. The window was still intact, though cracked and dirty. Several piles of planks occupied the corners. One of the walls had overcoat hangers on it. Opposite to it was an empty door frame that led to the next room with another hole, and another until the last room on the second floor.

The talking couple was so rowdy, the mare did not hear a pony approach her from behind. “Well aye the’e!” A hoof fell on her shoulder, pushing her inside the room.

She fell onto the middle of the floor, seeing the one who pushed her. It was a periwinkle earth pony stallion with a rather similar physique to that of the mare. He was standing on his hind legs to seem as tall and intimidating as possible. His long kobicha overcoat stretched down to his knees. Tough guards covered his shoulders, sewed into the coat, just like the chest, back and front leg guard plates. The front was unbuttoned, revealing a tough brown vest, tucked into mud colored pants with similar plating on the hind legs and flanks, and secured with a leather belt. An overcoat color cavalry ranger hat set tightly above his hazel eyes and an arrogant smug on his face.

“Bitch was eayvesd’oppin’.” He announced with a rolling southern accent.

“Well, well, well, what do we have ‘ere?” The female unicorn stepped onto the mare’s shoulder, looking down on her with yellowish eyes, “No weapons, no armor...” She was about the same size as the pale-mauve mare. Her short cherry coat swayed in a sudden breeze. Her torso was covered in a shirt made from a camo backpack, with various straps and fasteners wrapped around her body. Her legs were covered in similar fabric. Unicorn’s shoulders, flanks, and hind legs were coated with makeshift guards cut out from car tires.

“Saddlebags empty too.” A greenish earth pony stallion dressed the same as the unicorn checked looked through the bags.

“Ya’ lost, little ladey?” The blue stallion chuckled, “Need help findin’ home?”

“What’s with muzzle and irons?”

“T’aitah. With high octane blood, ey?”

“She don’t look like much.”

“Bitch p’ob’s from Citadel.”

“Bullet Farm maybeh?”

“Ain’t matte’ now.”

“Oh, wat dis?” The unicorn glanced at the mare’s chest, “Ya’ brought meh a present?” She snatched the black locket. The pale-mauve mare threw her hoof, but was pushed back into the floor with unicorns hind leg, “Ah, ah, ah! Mine now.” She said playfully. Seeing the green pony leave, she announced, “I’m outa’ ‘ere. Waitin’ for ya’ in car, Butch.”

“Give meh thi’ty min.” The blue stallion replied.

“Ya’ flatte’ yaself.”

“Ya’ ‘aight, gimmi fou’ty five.”

Leaving, the unicorn rolled her eyes, watched by the bluish stallion. He strolled towards the wall, hanging his overcoat - nine locks of hair stitched to its inside - and the hat on top of it. His long black mane, tied into a ponytail, fell down on his back. As he approached, the mare backed off, dragging on the floor. And she snapped. The dragging burden of fear gave way to the haste of surprising curiosity. She grinned like a maniac, her face hidden by the floor. “You’ve lost control...” She muttered.

“Now listen ‘ere.” The stallion began, “I know ya sca’ed, I know ya we’e in w’ong place at w’on’ time, but I don’ give a shit. We'll ‘ave bit of fun, ey? I’ll fuck eve’y hole ya have and then I’ll just keep makin’ mo’e holes to fuck until ya nothin’ but a ‘iddled co’pse full of blood and semen.”

“Oh, that sounds just fantastic!” She sprung upright, clapping her hooves, “Haven’t had that kind of fun in ages, would be a shame to pass such a plentiful opportunity that so willingly presented itself, wouldn’t it?” She beamed.

The stallion got a little startled for a moment, not expecting such a sudden turn of events. He shrugged, seeing the pale-mauve mare smiling flirtingly, her hooves behind her back, her hind leg drawing a crescent moon on the floor.

“Well?” She chimed, “Are you coming?”

“Don’ ‘ave to ask meh twice.” Butch began to approach her.

“Ah-ah-ah.” The mare stopped him, “Lose your clothes, that will make my job much easier.”

And so he obeyed. Quite eagerly, in fact. Little did the stallion expect a hoof in his face. And then a second, and a third. He hit the wall, stupefied and hurting. The mare approached slowly, moving the dispensed clothes away from him with a swift motion of the hoof.

“Ya mad?!” The periwinkle earth pony cried, rubbing his cheek by the wall.

“I’m sorry, love, got a bit rusty there… Or… Oh, wait! You thought I’m gonna fuck you, didn't you?” She guffawed, “Oh that’s golden!”

“Ya bitch!” He attempted a punch.

The mare, quick on her hooves, slid aside, letting the stallion pass by. Her hoof wrapped under his shoulder in a deadly dance as the other borrowed itself into the muscle above the scapula. Butch cried out. The mare let go, not a care in mind, and for a reason. The earth pony was frozen in place, not able to fight nor fall.

“What was that? What ya done to meh?!” He demanded.

“That, my dear, was an advanced zebra martial arts technique.” The mare strolled towards the window.

“Who a’e ya?” The implications of that simple phrase washed over him.

“How many mares and fillies had you had this kind of ‘fun’ with before now?”

No response.

“I would answer that if I were you, you saw what I did, but not what I'm capable of. And trust me, you don't want to find out. So tell me.”

“Fou’…” The periwinkle stallion snorted under his breath.

“Liar.” She glared. “I don't like liars.”

“Nine…” He muttered.

“Excuse me? I didn't quite get that.” A jolt of an elbow and one of the two layers of glass cracked and shattered. “Speak clearer.”

“Nine.” He regretted.

The mare chose the biggest and clearest shard to pick up and examine, all while trotting back to her victim. The stallion’s eyes were petrified, sweat dripping down his forehead like droplets of rain on the leaves of a young tree. He obediently opened his mouth as the mare’s hoof caressed his chin; his body was trembling from dismay, unable to flee or even move.

“To answer your earlier question.” The mare carefully placed the shared on his tongue, closing the mouth with light pressure. Butch’s eyes screamed for her to spare him, not to do what she was about to. “I am the consequences for your reprobate acts. I, my sweet little pony, am your own personal damnation.” Her smile was sweet and warm, yet terrifyingly cold. Petrifying calm and justified sadistic intentions were all she was at the moment.

Like a bolt of lightning, her hoof collided with Butch’s jawline. The stallion cried out in agony, a spray of fresh crimson red, glistening with splinters and specs of ground glass, splashed from his mouth. Streams of blood ran down his lips and cheeks. Razor-sharp fragments of the former window stung and borrowed themselves deep into the soft tissues of the mouth. Small translucent pieces stuck out of his gums and lips. His tongue was riddled and lacerated with holes and grazes.

“This is fun!” The mare sparkled, “I told you we'd have fun. And just think of all the possibilities! I can pull out your teeth, scrape out your eyes, hang you on the overcoat hooks by your spatulas, break your bones, pierce your hooves and the list just. Keeps. Going. On!” She spun around in excitement like an elegant whirligig wound up by a lively child.

Little did she notice that the paralysis began to wear off as a rotten wooden plank greeted her face mid-spin, shattering and flying in every direction. The mare fell on her chest, propelled and twisted by the attack. A hurt scowl escaped her tightly shut lips, her teeth ground from the pain. Her head spun, a nauseating feeling filled her stomach, only made worse by the ringing in her ears. Her vision was foggy and blurry as she attempted to concentrate on the now free periwinkle earth pony.

He was already grabbing another plank from one of the piles. Clenched tightly in his teeth, the long deformed piece of decayed wood crumbled ever so slightly as a thin film of a century old dust blew off in puffy clouds along with his breath. Thin streaks of blood dripped from the edges of his mouth and down the lumber’s length. His tormentor that scared him a moment ago was weak, wavering, fragile. She was no longer an untouchable demon, she was just a mare. A mare that bled, a mare that swayed under pressure, a mare that could be killed. And he was not about to miss his chance at payback.

Her eyes rose up towards the stallion, looking with clarity and desire to hurt, looking straight into his soul. The stallion stopped, stumbling back slightly as the cloth around mare’s head came undone, untwisting and falling off of her head.

“What…” The stallion stuttered, “What da fuck are ya?”

“You know where I came from...” The mare huffed, still sick from the head trauma, “Now ask yourself three questions... First, ‘how did she get here?’ Second, ‘whose blood is she covered in?’ And the final one, ‘do I feel lucky?’” She gave a tired smirk. “Well, do ya, punk?”

She stepped forward. The stallion backed away and kept stepping back with every step the mare made forward until he hit the half broken window. She raised on the hind legs, standing tall above her opponent.

The stallion pounced back. The glass behind him shattered, letting him through. He fell two floors, onto the hard concrete down below. Sounds of commotion arose, followed by the soft roaring of an engine that quickly disappeared into the vastness of the Wasteland.

“I can’t believe that actually worked…” The mare stumbled back. Her legs gave in and she descended, laying flat on the floor. An exhale of relief and tiredness escaped her lips. “I know…” She hushed, “Don't have to nag me about it, that's my job. He had it coming. What? No! Of course not. He tried to rape me, did you think I would just let him do it?” She cringed at an awful headache, “This is going to hurt for a while…”

The mare slowly got up, heading towards the abandoned clothes. Wobbling and stumbling, she reached the regalias, looking over them with determined curiosity. The wardrobe was surprisingly well taken care of. Clean and clear in colors, it was almost like they did not belong in this collapsed and decaying world.

“Of course I couldn’t just kick him and run away, that’s your approach to troubles.”

She emerged from her blood-stained linen robes, revealing the colors that were hidden until then, before closing her eyes in an attempt to ease the migraine. She had a slim and fit alicorn-like figure. A knee-high white sock-like coat pigmentation on her hooves matched a heart shape white coloration that covered her chest.

“You saw his ‘trophies,’ someone had to make things right.”

The pants slipped on without any struggle, sewed in guard plates clinging quietly in the process. They fit her quite well; slightly loose around the waist. After securing them with the belt, the mare moved onto the vest. It had 2 thin layers of fabric, enforced with multiple stitching and light plating. It felt comfortable on her coat and skin, like silk but slightly rougher. The overcoat was heavy and bulky but provided much-needed protection that the mare didn’t have, not to mention it suited her quite well and was a good fit overall.

“No, I don’t call that justice, he ran away. And yes, I am going after him.”

She folded her old clothes and placed them into the empty saddlebags before picking up the long piece of cloth that was covering her head a moment ago. She stiffly wrapped it around her scalp and the same eye as before. The cavalry ranger hat crowned the wrapped head. The hat was modified as well. A thin layer of tough rubber covered the inner side of the headwear, attached to relatively comfortable ear straps. The periwinkle earth pony knew how to dress in class, he also knew better than leave himself unprotected: a basic protective spell enchantment covered his attire. It was weak, not even able to stop a small bullet but provided protection nonetheless. And now, with his generous donation, the pale-mauve mare had some armor at last.

“Not bad…” She admired her new attire.

The mare left the building. Moving along the road, she looked around. All the buildings looked looted and vandalized beyond the point of having anything useful inside them. She stopped before the main structure in the miniature village. A square building, easily the size of the entire settlement. Made entirely out of concrete, it stood seven stories high in all of its brutalist glory. Five floors were identical. Tall and thin frosted windows, caved in like arrow slits on the side of a fortress, lined on the facade like cells on a beehive. The top floor was higher, though smaller in the area, with walls running at an angle. The structure stood on a tall first floor, retracted deep into the building's outline. Twelve monumental rectangular columns the size of a small house supported it. It was dark grey, looking like a ghost under the night sky.

The mare walked closer. The edge of tons upon tons of old concrete loomed over her head. Clean and somewhat smooth letters the size of mare's head read “Department of Health and Pony Services.” She came closer to what once was the entrance to the building. A spacious door frame designed to accommodate a restless flow of ponies in and out of the premises was completely sealed with dark metal doors that had a crystalline look to them and were overlaid with some sort of transparent material. Beside them, an engraving on a rectangular plate read “Cherry C. Chairmare Building. Department of Health and Pony Services: Mild Western Headquarters.” Under it - a small display panel, protected by a thick layer of glass. It was all scratched, flat marks from shots that bounced off dotted its entirety.

“Bulletproof glass...” The mare pointed out in a thoughtful manner.

The panel was dead, not broken: it looked completely intact, but dead nonetheless. The doors looked like someone tried to disassemble them, but vainly, only leaving a couple of scratches and burn marks on the surface. Mare slid her hoof along the surface. The texture was strange, it felt she was touching a soft fabric whilst the material was absolutely smooth and inflexible. The exterior gleamed ever so slightly. Small hairs on the tip of her leg swayed timidly towards the material. The dam took off the cavalry ranger hat and tapped the door with it. The hat bounced back, falling out of the grip of her teeth. A barely visible film sparkled where the hat touched the surface.

She picked the cavalry ranger hat up, putting it on, and moved along the wall. Peeking around a corner, she saw a crater in the wall, surrounded by cracks and crevices. Somebody tried another way to get into the building - blowing a hole in it. Unfortunately for them, they were greeted with a layer of the same unusual metal.

“What kind of disaster was this thing supposed to live through?” The mare whispered with an almost horrified tone to it, taking a step back. “I should get the locket back before I come back...” She turned away, starting off after the tracks the tanga left behind.

The buildings grew smaller and darker until they faded away into the night like ghosts of the past they were. Scenic peaceful sands and rocky hills spun towards the horizon only disturbed by the tire tracks. Night slowly passed, giving way to the morning light. It bathed the infinite covers of decayed rock into a warm shade of red, growing warmer with each passing minute until it looked like the last day.

Three streaks of zagged imprints spilled towards an opening in two high red rocks. The looked like a natural colosseum the size of a small mountain. Metal arcs and rings, connected with twisted pipes and beams laid across the on the quarry like a decayed carcass of a giant serpent. The beast’s head was missing entirely; the tail tipping over from the side where lines of creatures were conglomerating. The entrance. Small streaks of smoke escaped the pit.

This was a town. The town where the tanga went and where the pale-mauve mare was heading now.

Chapter 3 - Town in a crater

The natural colosseum shone upwards, illuminating the thick covering of the clouds that began to dissipate. As the pale-mauve mare got closer to the source of light, she saw lines of ponies of all sizes, shapes, and colors queueing up towards a high gateway. She approached the crowd, passing some the queuers. They were mostly sick looking earth ponies and donkeys both male and female. From time to time a unicorn or a griffon figure would appear in the crowd and disappear back into it.

She approached the entrance. A tall half cylinder made out of welded and twisted bulks. Once an aluminium alloy circle fifty meters in diameter, now a half was buried under the sand, embedded into stone underneath. As the mare looked inside, she saw this wasn't the only one. The same arcs continued into the well of rocky hills, connected with each other in long lines of pipes. Like a giant snake that died and decayed, the metal carcass bent over one of the sides of the crescent mountain. Various huts and tents, and domes filled the snake’s belly, amaturely built of scraps and tires. A fence separated the town from the outside.

“No preservatives, just pure water!” A plucked and sickly old griffon announced, his voice like claws on a chalkboard somewhere deep in a windmill. A walking kiosk was strapped to a saddle on his back, shelves, and cages filled with various bottles, boxes and brochures protruding from his sides. The glass and talismans dangled and chimed with each step. “Cool, clear water!” He spotted the mare with his blank white eye that rushed before his other one. His golden iris was paled with ages. “Step up, honey, get some dealing done!”

She nodded to the start of the line that had just moved, “That's my go.”

“Don't you understand?” The griffon bounce to her, “This is water. You can't live without it.”

“It's irradiated, isn't it?” She gave off a playful smile.

“What's a little fallout, ey?” He chucked, starting forward, “Have a nice day!”

The mare followed the line to a big dome and the only concrete building around. The entrance was miniature compared to the one in the Chairmare Building. She came inside. She was greeted by an amphitheater-like room. The place was poorly lit and crowded. A counter stood by a hallway forward into the town, covered in various little boxes and globes, and stones and even somewhat elegant knives. Behind it sat a massive in height and width unicorn stallion. His coat was nigh-absent, only a few patches of pinkish fur and a few strands of greenish mane faded to grey on his head. One of his eyes the color of winter grass was covered in a peculiar set of lenses contracted into a single headset that held on by two leather belts. He was analyzing some kind of cloth, talking to another unicorn opposite side of the counter. The latter was covered in rags and self-compiled armor made of scrap metal and sliced tires.

“You get a sack of grain...” The Collector turned the fabric over, his voice deep and growly like a bulldozer in a quarry, “... or a mare for two hours.”

The unicorn in rags nodded and went into the corridor, disappearing in the town beyond. The Collector carefully rolled the fabric and put it away into a box under the counter. The mare stepped forward.

“What are you trading?” He raised his eyes, looking the mare over.

“I am looking for someone.” She informed.

“Are you trading or not?”

“A unicorn mare. Red coat, yellow eyes.”

“Creatures come here to trade, make a little profit, do a little business. If you have nothing to trade, you've no business in Haggletown.”

“An hour inside.”

“Next!” The stallion called out.

“I got skills.” The mare refuted, “I can trade them.”

The ghoulish Collector leaned forward with an annoyed expression on his face, “Sorry. The brothel’s full.”

That struck a nerve. The mare banged her hooves on the counter, raising herself so their eyes are on the same level. The crowd split apart behind her. As she turned, she saw a grey earth pony mare spinning a bladed chain in her mouth. She was barely dressed with only chest guard made of chainmail and squirrel furs and a pair of shorts modified from an old military uniform. Her short oily black mane and tail were braided with shoelaces. A headwear made of feathers and small bird skulls crowned her scalp, strapped tightly with thin leather streaks. She was swinging the chain in all directions, looping and jumping through it like a contestant at a rodeo.

This showing off, though impressive, was not entertaining enough for the pale-mauve mare. She banged the counter before her, sending the boxes and knives flying upwards, and punched one of the blades. The cutter whistled right above the show-off pony’s head and the shredded feathers puffed in all directions. The grey mare stopped reluctantly, the chain dropping to the ground with a lazy cling. She was looking at the pale-mauve mare with a dull expression as she spat out a torn piece of a black feather.

A flash came from behind grey earth pony, giving the room a navy blue tint. A charcoal unicorn mare appeared in its place. She was smaller than her barely dressed ally, dressed in an unzipped black leather jacket, held together only by a single strap; pants and tough boots. Her clothes matched the color of her coat, giving off an unconventional feeling. A life-sized skin mask of a white horse's head with blue mane was suspended above her by two aluminium poles, strapped to a saddle on her back. Her horn glowed sapphire, marching the color in her eyes. Four tomahawks floated beside her body, wrapped in the blue aura of her magic.

Collector’s horn glowed rancid green, but the pale-mauve mare was quick to stop him in his tracks. In a blink of an eye, a hoof was already pressing into his neck, a single drop of blood lolling down its edge. Mare’s eyes were determined; her entire expression stated unboundable annoyance. Collector’s eyes sparked with long-lost excitement and curiosity as the aura around his horn imploded. The unicorn and her grey companion were ready to intervene but were stopped with a decisive hoove gesture form the stallion.

“One hour.” The mare asked.

“And if you find her?” The Collector inquired.

“I’ll ask her to return what’s mine.”

“And she’ll be so desperate to clear her conscience.”

“She will be.”

“You’re that good?” He asked already knowing the answer.

“Mhmmm” The mare nodded.

“Perhaps you have something to trade after all.”

“Keep talking.”

“Twenty four hours of your life. In return, you’ll get back what was stolen.”

“Sounds like a bargain.” She smirked.

“It’s not.” Collector refuted, stepping back, “Let’s talk. Come inside.”

He stood down from the counter, nodding for a griffon that was not visible before to take over. The pale-mauve mare followed the stallion, getting a shove from the charcoal unicorn, who, along with the grey earth pony, trailed behind, weapons close. They went through the corridor, emerging in a small room with another counter in it. It was mounted into the wall, separated from another room with steel bars. An old brown earth pony mare was waiting in the vault, looking bored and deep in her thoughts.

“Leave your weapons here.” The Collector nodded towards the counter, “It's the law.”

“I have none.” The pale-mauve mare refuted.

“Bullshit!” The grey earth pony burst.

“What?” The pale-mauve mare rhetorized playfully, “I really don’t have any.”

Sapphire glow wrapped her, pushing her body into the wall opposite to the counter. The charcoal unicorn stepped closer, the expression not changed in a slightest. Her obsidian hooves quite roughly scanned the mare through and through, go everywhere on her body.

The pale-mauve mare could not help herself and chuckled with a smirk, “Easy there, filly, buy me dinner first.”

“You can stop now, Jackstraw.” The Collector informed when the unicorn mare was ready to research her pinned guest.

Jackstraw shook her head, confirming that the pale-mauve mare had no weapons on her. The aura imploded, letting the mare go. The mare adroitly dropped on her hooves, shaking her head and following the already leaving Collector. Even more guards dressed like Jackstraw and her grey companion joined the gang. They entered the town, it was crowded with ponies, griffons, and donkeys of all shapes and colors, going around, minding their business, chatting, walking, meddling. Wires and ropes stretched from huts to tall metal poles, to the giant arcs of metal that painted dark shadows over the town below. The rock cauldron that surrounded it, cooled down and contained the air. Smells of sweat, burning plastics and spices interchanged at random.

The group approached the center of the village, going under a big cylindrical structure, suspended on top of a metal arch. Multiple cables and chains, wrapped in levers and pulleys, suspended from it. A small caged platform awaited underneath.

The Collector stepped onto it, followed by the mare. Jackstraw and her companion closed the cage with a safety chain from the inside. The others silently moved to a contraption nearby. A vertical wheel with planks sticking out of it; sitting on an axis that grew out of the ground and a hank of cable wrapped around it. The guards grabbed the handles and pushed. With great effort, the wheel began to turn, pulling wrapping more of the cable around itself. The platform slowly began to ascend, going up towards a hole in the structure’s floor of the same shape.

The cage reached its destination. Jackstraw detached the chain, moving into the room before them. Now inside, the pale-mauve mare looked around, carefully examining her surroundings. The place was spacious with almost nothing inside. The room was circular, separated from eight smaller pointed rooms on each side by thick grey curtains. Melodic harmonies filled the air, coming from a small snow-white donkey, playing a saxophone. He was dressed in nothing but a short pair of shorts. This strange sense of fashion among the privileged citizens of the town earned the donkey an eye roll from the pale-mauve mare. The music froze as he noticed the company, slowly turning his head towards the guests. His eyes were blank, white film covering the irises. He was sitting on a small chair. Beside him, stood an old long wooden table with a silver plate on top. Various fruits rested peacefully on it. A wide glass bottle hung from the ceiling on a long tough string.

“A warrior, Agnate!” The Collector announced, “Lost everything. Looking for a deal.”

“But she’s just a raggedy mare.” A raspy deep voice spoke; the grey curtain unveiled as a tall female griffon emerged. Silver feathers covered her head and neck with cinereous droplet-shaped spots around the mustard eyes. Her light grayish orange coat matched her brilliant-tangelo wings and tail. Iron-colored talons topped the picture. She was dressed in a strange outfit, but that seemed to be a trend in Haggletown. Chainmail covered the entirety of her body, folding several times over layered shoulder and flank guards and leaving her legs and tail completely exposed. Grey reflective fabric was sawed in between the tiny metal coils down from her waist as well as wrapping around her neck and waist in a separate decorative long piece. Various chainlets and braces dangled on her wrists.

“She’s quick.” The Collector pointed out.

“Jackstraw...” Agnate faced the unicorn, “... can she do it?”

The charcoal mare shrugged with a spiritless expression on her face, “Probably not.”

The griffon thought for a moment before calling the pale-mauve mare up with a claw. The mare obeyed hesitantly.

“And what did you do before this?” Agnate slowly circled around the mare like a hungry vulture waiting for a crippled animal to die in the middle of nothing.

“I was a war medic; a high dweller.” The mare didn’t seem to mind.

“But how the world turns. One day a cock of the walk, next, a feather duster.” She smirked, turning around to the patiently waiting white donkey, “Play something tragic, Ton Ton.”

He obeyed. Lingering melancholic sounds of the saxophone filled the room, quiet enough to peacefully continue the conversation.

“Do you know who I was?” Agnate resumed, “Nobody. Except on the day after the Talon Carnage, I was still alive. This nobody had a chance to be somebody. So much for history...” She sighed, drifting into her memories for a moment, before snapping out of it and giving the mare a quick smile. “Anyway. Water? Fruit?” She proposed, moving towards the table and picking a ripe-looking apple up from the silver plate.

The mare, exhausted, thirsty, hungry and still a bit dizzy from the head trauma, could not refuse such a proposal. The iron muzzle, polished and sharpened by the sandstorm and widened through her travels, barely restrained mare’s bite, but still giving her the semblance of a vicious predator baring its pearly white fangs. Though her movements showed distrust, she approached the table, already leaning over to bite a juicy yellow mango.

Agnate took a large bite off the apple. Sounds of weapons being readied quietly echoed from all around. Four guards that were waiting in the curtained-off rooms emerged, carrying bats and blowguns in their mouths. They were all earth ponies, both mares and stallions, all dressed the way Jackstraw and her show-off ally were.

“If any of you want an out - now is the time.” The pale-mauve mare announced with a sigh.

No response. She bit the plate, flinging it across the room and into a head of one of the new guards, a pink mare with a blowgun. A dampened, dull cling and the plate bounced off of the side of her eyebrow and into the neck of a yellow stallion beside her. Both dropped to the floor with a thud, a hurt moan escaping their lips, followed by the belling of the fallen plate.

A dart whizzed by pale-mauve mare’s ear, piercing Ton Ton’s saxophone. The music stopped. The mare ducked, reflectively, rolling over to the source of the shot - a beige stallion. Not losing a single newton-second of momentum, she extended her hind leg, sweeping stallions front appendages off the ground and making him drop to the floor face first. The dart gun rolled aside a bit. She sprung up, ready to kick the weapon as far away as possible, but was stopped by the end of a whip flying from behind and wrapping around her neck. It was suffocating, burning deep into her skin. She cried out as she felt a hard tug from behind followed by a hoof in her spine that stayed. She was fixed in place, only able to look at the one who kept her that way. It was Jackstraw’s friend. The last guard - a midnight blue earth pony mare - run up with a bat in her teeth. The pale-mauve mare felt a sudden surge of pain in her stomach that rooted deep into the body, stagnating her breaths and spreading through her spine up to already hurting brain. The bat bounced back and air came rushing back into her lungs.

Another dart flew her way, this time reaching the target. Twenty-five centimeters of sharp tempered steel pierced her chest like it was made of gelatin, burying itself deep within her lung. The head of the nail scraped the edge of her rib, tearing off and pulling the soft tissues from it. The lung began to fill with blood, forcing the mare to cough it out in a spray of crimson. She tried to scream, but could not. There was no going out of this situation. It was kill or be killed - the golden rule of the Wasteland. The notion washed over her like a cold shower, clearing her thoughts and dulling the ache.

Her leg sprung upwards, bouncing up from the midnight blue earth pony’s muzzle and pulling her body behind it. The second leg was not so gentle, crashing hard into guard’s jaw, dislocating it with a grinding sound like nuts being crushed between stone millstones. The guard dropped to the floor while the pale-mauve mare continued her motion upwards, flying over the show-off guard and landing right behind her. Mare’s movements were quick and precise, the whip looped around silver filly’s neck as a hind hoof pressed on it hard, forcing her into the floor. The pale-mauve mare bit the end, pulling it away with a monumental but smooth force. The guard began to choke, squirming and convulsing in vain search of air. The pale-mauve mare’s chest burned like it was filled with smoldering coals, she screamed, but no air escaped her lips. Instead, it bubbled and squirted out in a crimson mixture out of her chest. A sudden tug of the rope and the silver guard stirred no more.

The pale-mauve mare let go. The whip was no longer holding her. She rolled forward, dodging another iron nail before dropping her weight onto the stallion that shot her with a blowgun. He was still on the floor, but that didn’t bother the pale-mauve mare as she crashed onto his ribcage with her front legs again and again, and again. A surge of pain blasted through her chest with every drop. The stomach-churning sounds of breaking bones filled the room as one by one his ribs gave in and snapped. There was a visible dent in his upper body when she finally stopped.

There were only three left: Jackstraw, Collector and Agnate. The griffon stayed aside, observing and accessing the battle rather than being a part of it. Jackstraw’s horn was burning bright, charging up a magic attack. Collector was already swinging a battle ax in his teeth. For such a hefty figure he was surprisingly fast and nimble. The ax came crashing down with immense force, splitting the floor and getting stuck in it. For the pale-mauve mare it wasn’t even a concern. She easily dodged the powerful attack. With a mare’s mighty buck to the upper side of the stomach, The Collector spat a single bloody cough. A strike into his back and the gigantic figure froze, looking down with an agonizing expression on the face as crimson fell down on the floor in a single gooey streak.

Jackstraw fired. The pale-mauve mare anticipated it. A beam of bright blue light scorched through the air with a crackling of a muted thunder, going just beside the mare, close enough to burn the hairs on her cheek. Small blazing particles slowly floated down like snowflakes on a windless night. The wall behind the pale-mauve mare malted down, leaving a hoof-big hole in it. The charcoal unicorn was ready to fire again, but her opponent was faster.

The pale-mauve mare ran up to Jackstraw, twisting, spinning on one hoof. Excruciating pain shot through her chest and head as the iron nail turned inside of her lung, scraping it and tearing it more. A monumental buck had enough force behind it to send the unicorn flying into the wall right behind her. The impact forced her on the hind legs - an extremely disadvantageous position for a unicorn in a battle. The horn lit up again. A hoof flew into her cheek and the blue aura popped. The pale-mauve mare stood on her hind legs just a breath away from the unicorn, their eyes at level. Her front hoof buried itself into a side Jackstraw’s stomach. The latter tried crying out but had no time as another hoof struck the other side with the same immense power. And again. And again. And again. And again, and again, and again the pale-mauve mare was hitting her like a punching bag with lightning speed. Just four seconds later, the hit count was way above ten. The mare stopped, making a single step back. A powerless and heavy body of Jackstraw began to slide down the wall. The pale-mauve mare huffed heavily, watching Jackstraw’s body not moving.

“Congratulations.” Agnate smugged, still standing in the far side of the room, spectating, “You are the first to survive the audition.” She held a small crossbow, armed with a similar nail like the one that rested inside mare’s chest.

The mare sharply turned her head towards the griffon, enough anger in her eyes to make the formidable hostess of the event hesitantly take a step back. Agnate threw a small flask of bright green fluid like the one Spike gave her before. She gracefully caught it with her teeth. Her breathing sounded heavy and forced, wheezing with every inhale and hoarse when exhaling as her injured lung collapsed. The adrenaline rush began to wear off and the pain kicked back in full scale. The mare dropped to her knees. Trying to stay up, she leaned over on a pillar, picking the silver plate from the floor. She flung herself towards the table, dropping the plate on it.

Various fruits were still scattered all over the wooden surface. The mare grabbed several walnuts, crushing it with a hoof until the oil came through. Her legs gave in for a split second, but with a hard, wheezing breath she regained her footing. She seemed determined, grabbing a banana and roughly peeling it. She squeezed the juices out of the skin, throwing the withered cover away. An apple leaf was the last to repeat the process. She grabbed the bottle that still was hanging from the ceiling on a thread and poured a bit onto the conglomeration of ejected oils, quickly mixing it up. Her breathing became even harder.

She took the plate to the charcoal unicorn. Jackstraw moaned hurt, still conscious. The pale-mauve mare forced the liquid down Jackstraw’s throat. The latter obeyed and soon her eyes as if sparkled, her horn lighting up. The pale-mauve mare grabbed the temples of the unicorn's head. A tingling sensation followed by a strike of pain radiated through her body as a bloodied steel nail exited her chest. The lung inflated. She let go of Jackstraw’s head and fell down on the floor. She uncapped the flask, chugging down the bitter green liquid.

Her wounds began to seal up. The mare huffed in relief, before recollecting Agnate's words, “This is a shit audition.”

“You didn't like it?”

“You almost killed me.”

“And you killed my friends.”

“None of them is dead… yet.”

“You broke poor Silvertwist's neck.”

The mare groaned, “She's paralyzed, not dead. Give her a couple of healing potions and put a brace on the neck. She'll be good as new in two weeks.”

“Collector is still bleeding.”

“Give him a weak HP and let him rest till he can move.”

“You broke Creamie's chest.”

“Nothing a couple magical bandages can't solve.”

“You broke Midnight Bloom's jaw.”

“Just dislocated.”

“You beat Jackstraw senseless.”

“Just let her rest a bit.”

“Sunrise and Sunny Sunbeam are on the floor, unconscious.”

“Siblings? Now that's just adorable.”

A sincere chuckle escaped griffon's beak. She lowered the crossbow, feeling more at ease. The ropes that had taken the mare, Collector, Jackstraw and Silvertwist up before started moving again. The caged platform came up, supporting 2 small griffons that looked almost identical. They were dressed in robes and white shoulder bands with a very recognizable mark on it: a yellow cross with three pink butterflies in a white circle. Medics. Agnate must have called them at some point. She quickly recited the directions the pale-mauve mare gave. The medics, with extreme caution and grace, yet with remarkable speed that earned an awed expression from the mare, got Silvertwist and Creamie onto stretchers and got them out.

“Quite a display you made. Whawhai. Vinnge Stoot. And whatever that was with Collector.”

“Fallen Keiser.”

The griffon looked at the mare with an expression of awe and disbelief, hearing the name of the infamous zebra martial art. The medics came back, taking away Midnight Bloom and Collector. All the while they were working, both Agnate and the pale-mauve mare remained silent. Only when the medic griffons left with their new patients Agnate spoke.

“Zebra… ” The griffoness murmured, a sound of disgust in her breath.

“I’m not a zebra.”

“Then tell me, not zebra, what kind of non-zebra sorcery did you use on Jackstraw?”

Now it was the mare’s turn to laugh, “Not sorcery, just an aphrodisiac. I needed to get the nail out. I didn’t think of anything better than to use unicorn magic.”

“But you forced her to use magic. How?”

“Well… When unicorns are excited enough…” She began in a birds-and-bees-talk manner, earning a little glare from the griffon, “... They tend to...” She paused, trying to find the right word, “... Spark. I’m surprised it worked so fast though. Then it was easy to make her pull the nail out after: just grab and pull.” She turned her head towards Agnate with an apologetic and awkward expression, “You might want to clean that up afterward.”

Agnate had regained her smile again, though the mix of disbelief, caution and a hint of revolt had not fully faded. She strolled to the mare, passing patiently-waiting Ton Ton and the table, grabbing the water bottle. She offered a helping claw. The pale-mauve mare accepted. After getting pulled up, she was offered the water. The medic griffons returned once again, taking away the Sunbeam siblings.

“Drink.” Agnate nodded, “It's ok.”

The mare took the vial. She finally quenched her thirst, drinking half the two-liter bottle.

“Come with me,” Agnate called, walking behind one of the rooms’ veils.

The pale-mauve mare followed. The room that appeared before her had a trapezoid shape and small size. A big window replaced the wall, opening a view on the town below. The griffon stood right by it, looking down in affection and satisfaction. A big flat screen was mounted on the ceiling above her. A small black slit of glass like the one she saw in the Chairmare building before, but less resilient to damage. Small red symbols glowed on it. The mare joined Agnate.

“Look around. All this I built. Up to my feathers in blood and shit. Where there was desert, now there's a town. Where there was robbery, there's trade. Where there was despair, now there's hope. It's civilization.” She smiled, watching the razzle below like a mother watching her peacefully sleeping child. She turned her head to the pale-mauve mare, “I'll do anything to protect it.” Her smile faded away as the next words came out, “Today it’s necessary to kill a creature.” She paused, “What do you say?”

“What do you pay?”

“I’ll equip you...” She said reluctantly, “Vehicles, animals. Fuel if you want.”

“It’s a generous offer, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“The red mare, I know. She is involved in this too.”

“Why me? You’ve got warriors, weapons. Just give the order.”

The Griffon sighed, awaiting this dreaded question, ”We are dealing with subtleties here. It’s no enemy. It’s almost… family.”

“I see, real civilized.”

Agnate touched the black display. The screen above the two lit up, showing an image of a big square hall, somewhat resembling a hangar interior. The ceiling was high, at least eight meters. A tall platform took up the center of the place, eight catwalks extending from it like a spider, ending in entrances to tunnels. Various air vents and pipes riddled the place, going along the ceiling, walls and under catwalks like spider webs. A flock of pigs swarmed the floor. Several ponies and griffons stood among them, holding shovels and scrubbing the floor towards four big drums filled with dark brown liquid. A big creature reminiscent of an anthropomorphic dog stood on the platform. It was dressed in leather pants; two belts wrapped around its chest, holding a basket-like contraption to its back. A pyramid-shaped helmet covered its head. A small deformed unicorn figure peaked out of the basket, angrily shouting something at the ponies and griffons below.

“It’s called Underworld.” Agnate informed. “This is where Haggletown gets its energy.”

“Coal?”

“Shit.”

“No way.”

“The lights, the motors, the vehicles - all run on high-powered gas called methane. Methane comes from shit.” Agnate gestured towards the monitor, “Have a look. What do you see?”

“I see a big guy giving a little guy a piggyback.”

“MasterBlaster. They are a unit. The little one is called Master. He runs Underworld. The other one’s Blaster. He’s the muscle. Together they are very powerful. And very arrogant. We want to keep the brains, dump the body.”

“Diamond Dog?”

“Worse. Hellhound.”

“Never heard of those.”

“The mutated version of a Diamond Dog. Bigger, stronger, faster.”

“How strong?”

“He can beat most creatures with his breath.”

The mare was taken aback by the notion. She composed herself, going into thoughts for a minute. She was out long enough for Agnate to start worrying. The griffon was already extending her talons to shake the mare when the latter jolted her head towards Agnate.

“I want a closer look at it. How do I get there?”

“It’s a factory.” Agnate grinned, “Ask for work.”

“I know nothing about methane.”

“You can shovel shit, can’t you?”

“Where do I ask for it?”

“By the Thunderdome. It's further into town, at the bottom of the rock.”

The mare nodded. She poked her wounds, “My injuries haven't fully healed yet, they might get infected. I will need another HP. Also, can I leave some things here? Better looking inconspicuous down there.”

“You ask a lot.”

“You want a lot.”

The griffon threw another vial of the bright green liquid. “Don't go exhausting my stock. Healing potions are hard to get. As to your things, leave them in the main room.”

The pale-mauve mare emptied the potion, scowling from the bitter taste. She nodded to Agnate, already going towards the elevator. She left the adjacent room, appearing in the main circular area. Jackstraw was already gone, the medics must have come back and taken her. She took off her ranger hat and the overcoat, leaving the long cloth and the vest that were underneath. It felt refreshing. She neatly wrapped her belongings, leaving them outside of Agnate’s room. She approached the elevator. The platform came up fairly quickly, taking the mare down to the town. She looked around at the huts and booths that spilled around like a marketplace under the tall metal arcs. Merchants sold an impressive variety of items and services. Various spices, fresh, smoked and salted meats, fruits, drinks, metalworks, weapons, and the list kept on going. The mare didn't approach any, she had no money nor anything to trade. She moved through the crowds towards her target.

The Thunderdome lived up to its name. A circular arena fifty meters in diameter was buried two floors into the ground. The head of the metal beast that laid dormant over the Haggletown topped it off like a cage. A small part of its dome was biting into the rocky hill of the cauldron that surrounded Haggletown. It looked like it collapsed inwards when the serpent died and the pit was dug under the nose of the creature. The dome was covered in ponies and griffons like an old fruit in flies. They were shouting, cheering, betting with a thunderous loudness, closely looking at what was going inside.

Beside it was a square opening that led deep into the mountain and under the city. It was roughly five times higher than the pale-mauve mare, layered with concrete and metal plating to prevent a collapse. A small concrete booth stood right on the entrance, buried into the rock. A small light bulb lit the room and an old and really bored griffon inside. Even though he looked like a pre-war relic, he was well groomed and taken care of. His deep ocean eyes sparked seeing the mare approach him.

“You don't look local, Little Lady.” He grinned, happy to finally have some company to talk to.

“Is it the mask?” The pale-mauve mare joked, clinging her hoof on the steel muzzle on her face, “I feel like it's the mask.”

He chuckled, “What brought you to us?”

“Got a debt. Have nothing. Want to change that. Got anything?”

“I’ve got a free slot in the Underworld and a couple of errands to take care of. What do you say, Little Lady, up for some danger?”

“I’ll settle with Underworld.”

He pressed a lever. With a squeak and a thud, it gave in. “Ain’t afraid to get your hooves dirty, eh? Wear this at all times while down there...” He threw a small dog tag to the mare that swiftly caught and put it on. “You don’t look much of a sharer, so I took my creative initiative.”

The mare turned the tag over, reading the inscription, “Little Lady?” She sighed a bit, “I can work with that. When do I start?”

“How ‘bout now?”

She nodded before entering the tunnel. The faint smell of concentrated feces filled the air, growing stronger the deeper the mare went. The light from the outside faded away, the hallway illuminated solely by long industrial lamps. The stink became suffocating. A twisting feeling filled mare’s stomach. She lifted her ranger hat, pulling a loose end of the bandage over the muzzle and securing the hat back on. A deaf sound of cheerful, rhythmic drums echoed through the tunnel and the further she went, the louder they got. More instrument faded in from nothing. She passed several closed heavy doors on her way until she saw the first living soul. A cesius unicorn stallion with a silver mane, dressed in black shirt and old special forces black cargo pants. He was standing right on the exit from the hall, on a railed catwalk, looking down into the same room the pale-mauve mare saw on the screen. His ears perked up, hearing a loose pebble skip around from the mare’s purposeful step.

“Who are you?” The stallion yelped.

“New worker. Here to repay a debt.”

“I don’t care about your debt. Take a shovel and join the others on the lower level.” His horn lit up. A black nylon halter flew from around the corner and wrapped around mare’s head. She took a step back reflexively, but calmed down immediately, giving off a sigh and lowering her head. The straps were slightly too tight, but at least it wasn’t either too humiliating nor too demeaning for the mare. The side of the strap, part were headstall met the browband, had a hinge secured on it. An earth pony shovel flew in sight. A loud click and the tool was secured to the halter. The mare bit a mouth grip sticking from the side of the stick and stepped forward onto the catwalk.

The room was bigger than the screen at Agnate’s showed. There were three floors to it: the lower level with pigs and workers, the second floor with the platform and spider-leg catwalks from it into tunnels around, and the top one with a simple square catwalk around the perimeter, steel cables stretch across the room, ventilation hoods, loudspeakers that played the music and powerful industrial lamps suspended from them. A staircase down was right at the corner, leading to both lower and middle levels. The mare obeyed the unicorn. The bottom level was filthy, swarming with pigs. They were unusually big, almost the same height as the mare, making it a bit uncomfortable for her and forced a bit of a pout and blush to her cheeks when she tried navigating towards one of the drums, but got lost, several times.

Loud thumps echoed through the room. The mare looked towards the source of the noise only to see the MasterBlaster stepping onto the middle platform. The creature was much bigger than the mare expected, completely towering over a griffon that already stood there. There was a vehicle being disassembled right below the platform, separated from the pigs by a fence. Behind the machine, the room continued deeper, but the mare could not see what was inside.

“Hey, you!” The mare cried towards him, “Let’s talk!”

The deformed unicorn in the basket looked around, but the mare was barely visible in the swarm of pigs and her attire accidentally camouflaged her with the surroundings. Not finding the source, he turned back around. The mare was ready to call again but was stopped by claws grabbing her shoulder. She turned. Before her stood a female griffon twice the mare’s length if counting the tail. She had a charcoal coat, contrasting her pearl-white talons. Coal-black feathers covered her neck and wings, the latter ending in deep-garnet tips, so did the tail. She had three long lines of scars along her cheek. Her eyes, like peaches - a glimmering dark ruby star around the pupil on a pleasant-pale-orange iris. They were brimming with life, though tired from hard manual labor. She was dressed in a baggy overall made from sackcloth, similar to what the pale-mauve mare wore just a day earlier, but with short sleeves and hems. Several skin belts and chains were wrapped around her waist, chest, and shoulders, like a jacket. “Pig Killer” was written on her clothes. She was filthy and almost sickly looking, covered in dirt, ash and pig secretions.

“Here, free mare, come help a convict.” She smiled, quite sweetly which took the mare by surprise. Her voice was pleasant like a pine forest after rain. She glanced towards mare’s target, “You don’t want to end up like me.” She gently pulled the mare.

“The big one. Life.”

“For killing a pig?”

“Had to feed the kids. Doesn’t worry me. Life down here is two-three years.”

The mare was about to say something when a loud shout prevented her.

“Where is Blackeye?!” Master yelped.

“He’s right underneath you.” The familiar cherry-colored mare emerged from the tunnel, laughing at the unicorn. The black and golden locket dangled from her neck.

The pale-mauve mare scowled. “So that’s how she is involved…” She spoke under the breath.

Master looked out of his basket and rolled the eyes after spotting who he searched for. He tapped Blaster’s shoulder. The behemoth dropped to the lower level, sending a shock around like a miniature earthquake. The pale-mauve mare raised on her hind legs to get a better view. A creeper seat rolled from underneath the disassembled vehicle. A dark magenta unicorn with dull cyan hair that matched his eyes laid on it, covered in car oil and dust.

“We have a real problem.” He nodded to car’s underbelly, “Six kilos of dynamite set to blow.”

“You are an expert.” Master cried, “Disarm it!”

“Right...” Blackeye exhaled nervously, riding back under the car. For a moment he rolled back out, as if trying to add something or protest, but he only repeated “Right…,” nodding and rolling back. He carefully inspected the bottom of the vehicle before rolling from underneath it on the other side and springing up. “This is a class job.” He smiled uneasily, “One mistake, it’ll blow the crap out of this place.” He paused for a second, before adding: “Literally.”

“Then think what to do!” Master rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. Right… Um...” He walked around the trunk, “Now… The explosives are connected to the timing device....” He pointed at a small metal box with three small lights: one red, one yellow and one green. The yellow light was on, while the green one was flickering in and off. “...Which is connected to the switch, which I can’t find… Which is connected to… battery!”

“Then disconnect the battery!” The cherry unicorn spouted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She walked down a ladder.

“I wouldn’t do that.” The charcoal griffon refuted, emerging by the fence and leaning on it.

The unicorn growled in annoyance. The pale-mauve mare looked around, not believing her eyes, but the griffon behind her was gone.

“Who are you?” Master glanced towards the filthy griffoness.

“Gadget, sir.”

“You know what to do?”

She nodded, turning to Blackeye, “That’s a well made anti-disarming bolt action device with a secondary coil fuze. If you try disconnecting the battery, you will trigger it. This looks like a back relay circuit type. Do you know any electric shock spells?”

Blackeye nodded.

“See the yellow light? You will need to send a very powerful discharge into it, that will overload the circuits and should make a second-long delay on the switch and timer. You will need to snap all the wires connected to the explosives in that time frame. If you break them before that, you will trigger the secondary fuse and we are dead, if you snap the wires after that, the electric overload will detonate the explosives and we are dead.”

“Get on then.” The red unicorn barked.

“Wait.” The griffon disregarded, earning another annoying look from the unicorn, “Do you know about all the explosives?”

“I think so.”

“Do it then!” The unicorn grew impatient.

“Have you checked beside the suspension?” The griffon ignored her.

Blackeye froze for a second before disappearing under the car. “Yeah! More explosives! This should be it!”

“You know what to do.” The griffoness tensed up, gripping the fence tightly.

The unicorn’s horn burned bright celeste as the matching aura wrapped the wires around the dynamite. Another layer of aura blanketed the horn, beaming even brighter as arcs of electricity sparked in and out of it. He took a deep breath and swung his head right into the yellow light. A flash of light blinded the room. The pale-mauve mare closed her eyes, turning away from the light and bracing for an explosion. It didn’t come. She opened her eyes. Everything was still intact, the unicorn’s horn extinguished, letting off a thin trail of smoke that quickly dissipated in the air.

“Blaster, lift the car,” Master asked.

The gargantuan creature obeyed, pulling one side of what looked like a multi tonne car with one arm.

“Blackeye, take the dynamite,” Master ordered.

Blackeye quickly levitated all the explosives, disappearing with them in the tunnel behind. Blaster let go of the car and it flopped on the floor with a loud thud, bouncing up because of the suspension. It triggered the vehicle’s alarm. Loud high pitched ringing filled the smelly air. The scared pigs joined the choir, squealing and oinking in a cacophony of tones and pitches. This didn’t seem to bother any of the workers much, but Blaster looked like it was in excruciating pain, twisting and turning, grabbing the sides of the pyramid helmet.

“Turn the damn thing off already!” Master cried out.

Blaster punched the car’s hood, leaving a massive dent in it. The alarm stopped with the loud thud. The liquid coal combustion engine broke free from its place and feel on the floor.

“I’ve seen enough.” The pale-mauve mare murmured, going back to the silver unicorn upstairs.

After being freed from the halter that managed to leave marks in just a couple of hours, she went straight to Agnate’s. The warm comforting morning gave way to the blazing desert noon. The streets became less crowdy. The shades had the opposite effect, every tent and booth that had a canopy was swarmed by creatures. The guard that was responsible for raising the lift refused to give the pale-mauve mare a ride, but after hearing that she has an arranged meeting with Agnate, he obliged. The coolness of the room was refreshing, the shade - soothing. The main room was cleaned, the table reset and the fruit basket full again and Ton Ton gone. Sunny and Sunrise Sunbeam stood on guarding duty. They were not too happy to see the pale-mauve mare, gladly pointing their weapons at her.

“What are you here?” The stallion growled.

“Why do you want?” The mare added.

“You two should be resting, you had a concussion.”

“I repeat my question.” Sunrise scowled.

The pale-mauve mare sighed, “I’m here to see Agnate.”

“She’s not receiving guests right now.” Sunbeam refuted.

“Stop holding grudges.” The mare replied, “You all knew what you signed up for. I even gave you an out. You refused.”

“It’s ok.” Agnate poked her head from behind the veil, “I was expecting her.” She nodded, inviting the mare to the room. The latter obeyed.

The walls were covered in rows of shelves. They were filled with various rugs and boxes. A wide metal-alloy table, carefully painted to look like oak wood, giving it a distinct antique feel, stood in on the far side of the room. The griffoness was sitting a soft looking pillow on the floor beside it, writing something on a piece of paper. A single long, flat box laid dormant beside her on the table. It was made from what looked like black crystal with golden encrusting on it, somewhat similar to what the mare’s locket looked like. The golden crest took up the whole center of the front panel. It looked like a slim six-point star. The top beam was protruded more than the others. Two golden wings extended to the sides from the body.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Agnate asked.

“You said that MasterBlaster were very arrogant.” The mare sat down on the floor, “What did they do to force you to hire me?”

“Constant embargos on electricity to raise public unrest. Failed pork deliveries to starve the griffons. Public humiliations of my people who fell in debt to them. Two failed attempts to assassinate me to take Haggletown for themselves.”

“Why?”

“We have different views on the world. I believe in civilization and unity. Master believes in self-preservation and self-gain. And recently, he had been hiring mercenaries. There are also rumors of his involvement in the slave trade. I would’ve put him in his place long ago, but he is protected by Blaster 24/7.”

“Understandable.” The mare thought for a moment. The curiosity finally took over her, “What’s that box?”

“Someone dug it up and traded here. It looks like it has something valuable in it, but we can’t open it. It’s too strong to break or melt. Even magic is just absorbed.”

“What about the lock.”

“It’s one of those M.A.S. locks. Can’t open without the owner. But they made a mistake while designing these.”

“Mistake?” The mare came closer to the table looking over the box. She extended her hoof and touched the golden star on its top.

“A direct descendant of the owner…” The box clicked open, “...Is still recognized by it…“ The griffoness could not believe her eyes. She looked at the mare with a shook, almost offended expression. She got up, standing back to observe and give the pale-mauve mare space by the table.

The latter moved forward, carefully lifting the top of the container. It swung back, revealing box’s contents. The insides were lined with soft, foamy material. In it, in neatly cut out holes laid several photos, a long red scarf, a white chess queen piece, and three luminescent pink orb crystals. The mare gently lined up the slightly scratched and faded from time photos. They were all showing the same pony - a mulberry unicorn mare with violet eyes. Her straight-cut dark-sapphire mane had two streaks running through it by the horn: one - purple, the other - raspberry.

She seemed happy and cheerful. On one of the pictures, she was sitting at her table by a window in a room made of wood. A bright clear moon shone down onto a valley with neatly organized houses beyond the glass. The mare herself was surrounded by stacks of books of all sizes and colors, some were brand new, the others - old as time. She was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white shirt. She was levitating several open books, a scroll and a feather with her raspberry-colored magic. On the other picture, the most scratched one, she was on some kind of a balcony. The background was faded. The purple mare was in a fancy yellow dress and a golden tiara. Several other ponies stood around her. Two earth ponies, two pegasi and a unicorn.

The pale-mauve mare touched the red scarf, sliding her hoof along the length of the neatly folded neckwear. It was knitted from thick woolen strings and was warm and very pleasant on touch.

“What are those?” The pale-mauve mare asked, pointing at the glowing spheres.

“Memory Orbs.” Agnate informed.

“Memory Orbs?”

“An old Equestrian magitech that allows storing of memories of developed creatures.”

The mare looked them over, “How do you activate them?”

“Only a unicorn can do that.” Agnate paused for a moment, scratching the underside of her beak, “Or you need a Recollector, but I haven’t heard about any in these places.”

The mare stepped back from the table, moving out of Agnate’s way. “Who is the red mare?”

“Squad leader Crimson Sin of Lord Gigantus’ Marauders.”

“Who are they?”

“Mercenaries, headhunters, raiders, scavengers...”

“Why are they here?”

“MasterBlaster made a contract with Gigantus. I don’t know much, just that creatures disappear and there has been a rise in lost shipments of fuel, munition, and provision.”

“How big of a role does the red mare play?”

“Key to keeping it up.”

“I want food, water, vehicle and a list of herbs.” The pale-mauve mare finally stated extending her front leg.

“Deal.” Agnate grabbed her by the forehoof and shook it.

“How do I deal with Blaster?”

“Challenge him. A fair fight to the death in Thunderdome.”

“Rules?”

“No jury, no appeal, no parole. Even number of creatures. The fight is to the death.”

“Weapons?”

“Anything possible. Chance decides.”

“Thunderdome. How do I get in?”

“That’s easy. Pick a fight.”

Chapter 4 - David and Goliath

The sun was setting. The orange globe disappeared behind the rim of the natural cauldron around the town, throwing it into a nightly shadow. As the mare approached the Thunderdome - right by a blacksmith’s - she was greeted by a small convoy from the Underworld.

MasterBlaster were sitting on a luxurious roofless wagon like on a throne. A metal platform was welded onto an old base from a bus. The floor was decorated with red rugs and pillows with high torches in the corners. Eight stallions dressed in nothing but pants pulled the platform. Draft saddles were mounted on their backs, bridles on their heads with reins going back to Blaster. A sign with a single word “Debtor” hung from their necks. A long horsewhip attached to a brace on Master’s front leg cracked the air from time to time, hitting the bare coat of the ponies. Two mares laid on the platform itself in a similar attire as Gadget, but with a collar around the neck. One of them was crying, the other - gritting her teeth, clinging onto the last strands of dignity she had. A chain spun from one neck down to the hinge on the wagon and up to another neck. The same sign hung from their necks as from stallions’.

Several not quite happy worker ponies and griffons followed the procession. There was a crowd gathered around the road, not daring to step in front of the wagon’s way. The pale-mauve mare recognized several familiar faces in the pack. There was the ghoulish frown of the Collector peeking from behind the car. Midnight Bloom watching it from the side. Gadget following the procession in her work uniform.

The pale-mauve mare looked around her, immediately spotting big scaling hammer. She bit on the grip, raising the hammer up. It was pretty heavy and the thin, almost axe-like head threatened to chop an innocent bystander whenever the mare passed someone. She got out on the street before the procession.

“Got two for the brothel!” The Master cracked of laughter, giving another horsewhip slash to one of the stallions in the front.

The pale-mauve mare charged forward, gaining speed with each step, her hammer held high. When the guards at the back of the convoy reacted, it was already too late. The mare jumped onto the trace between the draft stallions. She jumped again towards MasterBlaster, s small protrusion of her boot pulling on the hinge that kept the ponies strapped to the trace. This would normally pull on the mare, but the hammer gave her enough momentum to pull the pin out entirely. She landed on the platform, the hammer crashing into the chain that held the mares together, snapping it in half.

“Sorry. The brothel’s full.” The pale-mauve mare glared at Master.

The ponies moved around the platform awaiting what will happen next. In the crowd, Collector was grinning wide.

“What is this?” Master yapped, “You crazy?”

“You’ve been humiliating your debtors long enough.” The mare stood up on her hind legs, following the day-old example of the periwinkle stallion to seem more intimidating, “Seize it at once!”

“I think my hearing is wonky.” The Master could not believe the baldness of her move, “That sounds like an order.”

“That’s right.”

“Holy Sisters! She’s angry. Brain’s broken. Let me explain: this is my vehicle, my debtors, you are just a…” He thought for a moment before spitting, “Pedestrian!” Master tapped the Hellhound’s shoulder. The latter, in a swift motion, grabbed the mare by the neck. “Three seconds. Then break her neck. One...”

“MasterBlaster!” An echoing voice of Agnate echoed through the street like a thunder, “Listen to the law!” She appeared before the procession, eight guards by her side.

“Agnate, two creatures in dispute.” Master complained, like a child, “These are our witnesses. We suffered bad. We want justice. We want Thunderdome!”

Agnate nodded. Blaster got up, the mare still in his grasp, and in a single jump through the open gates of the Thunderdome landed down in the pit. He threw the mare over the other side. She sprung up, dusting her clothes off and stretching her neck. The inside of the fighting pit was sandy. The six-meter walls were lined with concrete and metal. Powerful industrial projectors lined up the top edge of the pit, evenly spaced one from another. Several hooks and spikes were welded onto the massive metal cage above. Two empty pulleys were attached to each side of the dome, right at the top, good twenty-five meters from the ground. The top half of the dome was cut off from the bottom by a roofed platform. Old, torn and decaying elastic rope hand from them. The creatures of the Haggletown began to swarm around the Colosseum, crawling onto the metal railing to get a better view.

In a few minutes, the entire Thunderdome was covered with pastel colored creatures like a hive in bees. It was time to present the weapons of choice as they were passed up from the bottom of the crowd and onto the hooks at the top. Two barrels clung on top, suspended from chains. A massive sledgehammer clanked as it was placed onto two of the hooks in the very center of the dome. A hollow steel pipe was placed onto another two. And then it was time for the final weapon. A long meat cleaver easily double the size of the pale-mauve mare hung from a hook. A long rectangular blade that curved in from the back at the end. The spine was filled with big serrations, probably serving more of a decorative than practical purpose. It was almost like it did not belong in this arena. It was clean and well sharpened. Black in color, it reflected the last beams of light from the setting sun.

The mare looked to the cloud, seeing a peaking face of the Collector in the caged platform in the middle, like a VIP balcony in a theater hall, and Midnight Bloom dwarfing beside him. Soon, Agnate joined them with the whole crew of guards following her around. Sunny and Sunbeam joined them. But on the other side of the cage, she spotted someone who sparked the fire in her eyes. Crimson Sin comfortably leaned onto the railing of the same kind of balcony, checking out what was the commotion all about. As she spotted the clothing the pale-mauve mare was wearing and soon her face, Crimson’s expression rapidly changed. She was no longer looking blatantly amused, but surprised and confused. And from confusion broke out the anger. Two familiar stallions joined her side, both confused. Periwinkle stallion looked badly beaten, his face covered in bruises, tears, and blisters, and his front leg bandaged over. A pink unicorn stallion stepped onto the third balcony between the two. He was dressed in a black skin long coat with a fluffy collar made from fox fur. Various chainlets and silver streaks were sewed into the length of the coat. His legs were clothed into skin-tight pants of the same design as the coat. His long white mane with a single red stripe right by the horn swayed free from underneath a metal-decorated top hat. His bright ruby eyes sparked the smug expression on his long edgy face. A pre-war stage microphone was hanging from his ear down to his mouth.

“Welcome to another edition of Thunderdome!” He announced in the classic host manner. His words were met with an explosion of cheers and claps. “Listen on! Listen on!” His face turned to sadness as if he was about to start crying like a heartbroken mare, “Fighting leads to killing, and killing gets to warring. And that was the damn near the death of all our grandpas and grandmas. But we all learned by the dust of them all! Haggletown’s learned! Now when creatures get to fighting it happens here! Equal amount enters, half of them leaves. And right now, I’ve got two creatures! Two creatures full of fear! Ladies and gentlestallions, fillies and colts...” He basked in the spotlight, his eyes running over the masses that just kept on gathering. His face grew an entertained sinister smile as he lolled, “... dying times here.” He chuckled under his breath, before shooting his hoof towards the hellhound, “He’s the ball cracker. Death on foot. You know him. You love him! He’s Blaster!” The audience exploded once again, “The challenger,” he turned to the pale-mauve mare, “directly from the Wasteland. She’s bad. She’s beautiful. She’s crazy! It’s the mare with no name!” Whistling and clapping mixed into the cheers. Several stallions and griffons called out something incohesive. “Thunderdome’s simple.” He spoke directly to the fighters, “Get to the weapons, use them any way you can. I know you won’t break the rules - there aren’t any. Remember where you are.” He raised his voice again, “This is Thunderdome. Death is listening, and will take the first one to scream… Prepare!” He raised his hoof, ready to start the fight, but was cut off by the pale-mauve mare.

“Wait!” She called out, getting a curious look from the stallion and several more whistles from the crowd. “I would really prefer to do this one problem at a time, but I can’t take any chances.” The pale-mauve mare spoke with herself, “Hey you!” She called out to Crimson. “Yes, you, Sinful flanks! I challenge you to Thunderdome!”

“What is this?” The stallion fired up, “The crazy mare must be completely mad! The Wasteland beauty challenged another creature. This time her eyes laid on our praised guestess. You know her. Not everyone loves her. But no one can deny her spirit. It’s Crimson Sin!”

It was obvious that his words were transmitted elsewhere. Radio broadcast would be the most logical. He would not have needed to state what everyone at the arena already heard and knew otherwise. The red unicorn growled hearing such a bold and somewhat unexpected turn of events but respected the rules. In a moment she jumped down the pit and casually trotted to Blaster’s side.

“But the balance is nigh!” The stallion cried, “The Thunderdome demands one more soul. Who will it be? Who will you choose, Crimson Sin?”

The red unicorn looked over the crowd, spotting her victim. “Ya.” She growled, pointing her hoof towards the worker grifoness from before. “Ya were gettin’ on my ne’ves for eight months, ‘bout time I stopped it.”

The stallion burst, “The deed is done!” As the griffon was pushed towards the entrance to the fighting pit by the excited and impatient crowd, the host pony announced the contestant, “From the pits of the Underworld to the courtroom of Thunderdome. The rule breaker. The heart acher...” His expression froze for a split second, his voice lingering, as he understood he had no idea who she was. But as soon as he spotted the written letters on her clothes, he knew exactly what to call her: “The Pig Killer!”

Gadget was pushed down into the pit, the gates shutting behind her. She clumsily dropped to the floor with a thump and a splashing cloud of dusty sand around. As it quickly settled down, the rusty yellow granules stuck to the filth on her feathers in a thick coating. The griffon bounced upwards, giving her new surroundings a baffled yet somehow charming glimpse. She saw Crimson Sin and the mountainous beast beside her and decided to move towards a less imposing pony.

“Hi.” She waved awkwardly to the pale-mauve mare.

“I am sorry I got you into this.” The mare sighed, “I promise I'll get you out alive.”

“That’s kind of you and all, but I have dynamite.”

The pale-mauve mare gave the griffon a questioning expression.

“When Blackeye was disarming that wagon, I grabbed a couple of sticks while during the flash. Just thought you might want to know.”

On the other side, Sin spoke something incomprehensive to Blaster and laughed, bumping his forearm. A ghast of smoky air fled the tiny holes along both sides of hellhound’s pyramid helmet like exhaust from a starting truck. The air was getting chilly. The sky darkened and a thick layer of grey cumbersome clouds flew in from the north-east. Only rare beams of moonlight pierced through them.

“Prepare!” The eccentric pink stallion cried out. The crowd quieted down awaiting the morbid words.

“Can you fly?” The pale-mauve mare whispered to the griffon. The latter nodded. “As soon as the battle starts, fly up and drop the barrels. If able - pole too. Everything else is useless to us.”

“Got it.” The griffon braced for a jump.

“Let the judging…” The stallion raised his hoof before dropping it down, “Begin!”

Gadget jumped up, her wings unfolding. A single flap and the griffon was already halfway to the barrels, leaving only a shockwave of dust and sand behind. Blaster huffed, running towards the edge of the pit. He jumped up. His claws clung to the metal cage as he was climbing upwards towards the weapons. Crimson pushed her body upwards, her horn shining bright, the color represented by her name. The horn coruscated like a new year sparkler as she dropped back on her front hooves. The pale-mauve mare dashed towards the unicorn as a radiant, fizzling beam of light shot straight at her. She dropped to the ground, her momentum propelling her forward. When Sin realized she'd missed, it was already too late. The pale-mauve mare contorted her body, spinning around and firing her back leg into unicorn's chest, maximizing the force behind it. Crimson was fast enough to draw a basic shield bubble to meet the buck. The hoof crashed into the force field, sending waves over it like a stone dropped into a still lake. The pale-mauve mare sprung up, sending another roundhouse kick into the shield. And another. She jumped up, rolling her body, allowing a full turn in mid-air and throwing her hind leg into the barrier. This was too much for it. The bubble cracked and shattered like a window. Shards scattered, fading out of existence. Another buck flew into unicorn's chest, knocking the wind out and throwing her back.

Gadget was sitting on one of the barrels, meddling with the chain. It was tougher than she thought, not budging even a little at her attempts to undo it. Chills ran through her body as she saw Blaster reaching the apex of the dome. He was upside down, holding onto the railing like a spider. The pyramid helmet on his head made him look all the more nerve-wracking and horrifying to her. The hellhound clasped the giant cleaver, pulling it off of the hooks. He growled, jumped at the griffon. The cleaver swung at her like a windmill blade. Gadget shrieked, dropping down as fast as she can. The blade cut through the thick chains like they were butter, barely missing griffon's tail. The barrels dropped to the ground, almost thirty meters below, breaking into pieces and scattering its innards. Gadget joined the pale-mauve mare by the contents of the dropped containers. All they saw were old tools and scraps. Wrench, frying pan, rolling pin etc. were what they were given. The other barrel contained something more than just scarps, something that looked like a gun. But all its contents were covered in slightly glowing green goo. A substance the Mare With No Name was smart enough not to touch.

The pale-mauve mare felt something ominous above her. “Scatter!” She pushed Gadget back while quickly grabbing the wrench and jumping to the griffon. Just in time.

Blaster dropped to the ground, sending earthquakes and shockwaves around him. The spectating crowd exploded with excitement. The hellhound raised up, the cleaver dragging at his side. Sin got up, looking quite angered. The pale-mauve mare was in a disadvantageous position, stuck between Blaster and the unicorn. Crimson's horn lit up, she was ready to do another attack. A hard side tackle by Gadget threw her away, rolling both of them on the ground. Another beam of sparkling light blasted away into the cloudy sky, tearing a hole in the thick grey layer.

Blaster swiped the cleaver, a trail of dust bursting up from the ground. The pale-mauve mare had barely enough time to jump upwards and raise her legs so they were not cut off. The moment her hind legs touched the earth, she pushed forward, directing all of her momentum into a single punch straight into hellhound's abdomen. It was like punching solid concrete. She cried out rolling away as razor-sharp claw crashed into the ground behind her. She glanced towards Gadget. The griffon was struggling to keep the very angry unicorn pinned down. The latter’s horn began to glow as she twisted her neck to try and face Gadget.

“Push her horn away from you!” The pale-mauve mare cried out.

Gadget did as told, shoving Sin’s face away. The pale-mauve mare bit on the wrench that was still in her mouth a bit differently for better grip and, before Crimson could kick the griffon, tossed it into unicorn's head. A dull cling right on the base of the horn and the aura imploded, dissipating like a thin streak of crackling red smoke. The griffon nodded in appreciation. Her eyes quickly widened. She was ready to scream, but the pale-mauve mare was faster to react.

She rolled aside. Just in time. The massive meat cleaver crashed into the ground, burying itself half a meter under the surface. The pale-mauve mare bounced forward, in between the hellhound’s legs and spinning behind him. She jumped once again, grabbing the back of the pyramid helmet. As she expected, the beast was not nearly as nimble or flexible. His claws flailed, trying to take a hold of the mare, but not reaching her. This gave her enough time to look at the helmet - the next logical place to look for a weak point. The back of the pyramid was, like the front sides, covered in small holes or at least that’s what they looked like. A big box with fans on it and two pumps under it was welded tightly to the headwear. Two steel pipes left the box and entered the sides of the pyramid through a small cylinder container with several small diodes on it.

One of the claws finally reached the mare, grasping the back of her collar and tossing her forward towards the broken barrels. She crashed hard, a random small stone in the ground slicing her side. She growled, pressing onto the new wound. Little streams of dark crimson blood rolled down her hoof. Standing up on her hind legs, she glanced towards Sin, who was searching through the green sludge with her magic. The pale-mauve mare’s eyes widened as she saw a nail gun, wrapped in red glow, emerge from the goo and point towards her. She kicked the frying pan that was peacefully lying where it had crushed the first time and grabbed it with her mouth. Thump. Cling. The nail gun fired, its projectile deflected by the hardened surfaces of the kitchen utensil. Thump, thump, cling, cling. The makeshift shield proved its worth, surprising even the pale-mauve mare herself. An approving “huh” escaped her teeth. The pale-mauve mare kicked the rolling pin, that too was under her legs, and before Crimson had a chance to fire again kicked it towards her. The unicorn’s head once again felt the kick as the utensil slipped past the emerging red shield and hitting the unicorn right between her eyes.

The unicorn fell back, right into the green sludge. The unicorn screamed. The hysterical screech filled the air, silencing the thunderous crowd. The unicorn rolled out of the goo and into the sand, trying to scrape it off as burnt off hair and withered out flakes of skin and meat slipped off of her back. Gadget, who was standing aside not courageous enough to go against the hellhound, gasped, quickly growing sick and covering her mouth not to vomit. The pale-mauve mare neared the Crimson Sin. The latter was breathing heavy. Her chest trembled and quivered. Streams of stale tears ran her cheeks, her teeth clenched from pain. Her face was still painted into static anger and erroneous dignity. The very dignity, the Mare With No Name was draining out the entirety of the battle.

“Crimson Sin,” The pale-mauve mare growled, “I am sorry this had to end this way, but for the crimes you’ve committed against the creatures of Haggletown and dozens outside of it… you had this commin-”

She hadn’t time to finish the sentence as massive claw swept her off the ground and tossed into cage wall, towards one of the VIP balconies. The pale-mauve mare crashed hard into the metal net and the railing behind it, right beside one of the projectors. Something snapped in her front leg. She clenched her teeth hard before crying out her pain. The skin tore and shredded. Blood oozed out, clotting and sticking to the fur. A splatter sprinkled the eccentric pink stallion.

She bit into the power cable, the thickness of a thick rope, that was connected to the light and pulled on it. It was welded in, but the mare pulled harder, pushing the projector with her hind legs. It hurt, badly, but the anger got the best of her. The cable tore open, sending sparks of arcing electricity as the massive projector toppled over and crushed to the ground.

“Fine!” She bit on the sparking cable again for a better grip. “Come at me, you oversized mutt!”

Blaster jump at her, the meat cleaver ready to swing. The crowd behind the pale-mauve mare quickly dispersed fearing for their lives. The announcer stallion and Sin’s accomplices jumped off of his balcony. The hellhound crushed into the railing, denting and twisting it. The cleaver carved its way through the metal like a can opener. But the mare had already sprung over it, the broken leg pressed against her chest. She turned, pulling herself onto the pyramid helmet. She pressed the cable into the ventilation box on the back with all the strength she had. The wires sparked and ignited, the panel overloaded and burst, pulling one of the side boxes with it. The pyramid tore open, one of the sides was exposed, like a massive scar. As the mare stared into the darkness behind the tear, the darkness stared back. Two thin deformed eyes right on top of each other, enveloped in folds of hairless, ulcerated skin. Streams of dried out pus were running down from the tear ducts. The sickly yellow sclerae hosted darkly pigmented irises engulfed in networks of swollen blood vessels.

The beast tried pulling his weapon back but failed. The cleaver was stuck in twisted metal and refused to let go. Blaster turned, trying to grab the mare, but the latter was not going to allow that. She sprung away, rolling on the ground below far away from the hellhound. She quickly ran towards the center. The griffoness, who was who was meddling with parts of the torn open nail gun, put a newly compile contraption, that looked like a mouse trap with a grenade pin on a dynamite stick, and rushed towards the mare.

“Are you hurt?” Gadget trembled, met with a duh expression of the pale-mauve mare’s face. “How can I help?”

“See the pipe up there?” She pointed towards the top of the dome, “Throw it to me as soon as I tell you to.”

Gadget nodded, immediately taking off. Blaster roared, running towards the mare. As soon as she ran towards the middle, he jumped to intercept.

“Now!” The pale-mauve mare spat.

Gadget was already sitting by the two-meter pipe. She grabbed it in her claws and threw it full force towards the mare as if it was a spear. The pipe howled, as air passed through it. The pale-mauve mare caught it with her teeth, the momentum spinning her around. Just what she wanted. One of the ends secured itself in the ground, getting stuck on the stone that had sliced her side. The Hellhound finally reached the ground, unable to change his course, his chest was the first to touch down. Unfortunately for him, it was on the other end of the pipe. The skin tore, the metal shallowly sinking into the meat beneath.

This was nowhere nearly enough to stop a monstrous being like this. But Gadget too had something to say about it. With a firm kick, she knocked the massive sledgehammer the size of her off of its hooks that were right above Blaster’s head. The hefty tool crashed onto the base of hellhound’s neck with all the force of a twenty-five-meter fall. The impact jolted Blaster down, impaling him all the way through with the pipe. The bottom of the tube deformed, gluing itself to the rocky ground beneath.

Blood rained down from the behemoth as he tried pulling himself out. He firmly grasped the metal, starting to lift himself from the makeshift stake.

Gadget tossed her compiled contraption to the pale-mauve mare. The latter was fast to react springing upwards from one of the Blaster’s arms and catching the dynamite in mid-air. She tossed them into the hole of the pyramid helmet, pulling onto the pin with her teeth and momentarily bouncing away. A thunderous explosion rang, contained within the pyramid helmet. The headwear blossomed like a flower. Blaster’s hands slipped down from the bloody pole, lifeless. It was over.

The excited crowd that was cheering through the entire fight went silent. Gadget sat down on the ground, exhausted and sick. The terrified announcer stallion crawled out of his hiding. Carefully avoiding the massive blade that had become an interior of the balcony. What she didn’t notice at first, was Butch dropping into the Thunderdome after drinking a healing potion. Only as an empty flask shattered on the ground and a cry of the charging earth pony filled the air, she turned. He shed all the bandages and casts, his bruises and scratches evaporated like droplets of water on a hot summer day. His eyes were wet, tears running down the cheeks of a ferocious-looking face. His front forehoof bared an unstrapped gauntlet with a blade welded onto it.

“Ya killed my sistah!” He cried, swinging the weapon at mare’s face, “Ya a’e a monstah!”

The pale-mauve mare spun on her place. The stallion’s front leg passed her, met by a mighty punch from above. A loud crack echoed from the limb as it bent unnaturally under the elbow. The gauntlet slipped off, momentarily finding a new host - the Mare With No Name. She sliced the stallion’s back as he continued being carried forward by inertia. She hooked his shoulder, pulling on it, to force Butch to face her, quickly drawing the weapon out and stabbing him through the lower jaw. The blade cut through the flesh like a knife through butter, sticking out on the other side like a massive metal tongue. The periwinkle stallion was still alive, as the mare put more force into the blade. His legs were no longer touching the ground. She jolted it out, only to drive it into the middle of his chest, going all the way through. She pushed Butch with her hind leg. The lifeless body fell over, pulling the weapon off of mare’s hoof.

“You are right.” She asserted, “I am no monster.”

Chapter 5 - Beyond the Thunderdome

The pale-mauve mare sprung up in cold sweat. She was alone in a small square room. The walls were built of metal sheets, welded together and stuffed with compacted sand. Late daylight was leaking through the old rusty shutters, lazily painting bright yellow stripes over the walls and minimal furniture inbound. She was sitting on a rusty spring bed in only a new grey nightshirt. Her neatly folded clothes rested on a small nightstand beside the bed.

She looked around with an expression of curious perplexity on her face. The results of the last battle were clearly noticeable. Her forehoof was in a cast with a metal rod and wrapped in faintly luminous yellowish bandages. So was her leg. Her waist and rib cage were enveloped as well. Her body ached, but she barely squinted.

“I’m… I’m me again…” She murmured, “What have you done?”

“Whatever may you mean?” Her virtual companion queried.

“The bandages. Who knows?” The mare sat up.

“Don’t worry that much. I did them myself.”

The mare sighed with relief before touching her face only to feel the sharpened iron muzzle still attached to her face, so were the irons on her hooves, “Couldn’t do anything about these?”

“Not while staying incognito.”

“How long were we out?” The mare stepped off the bed.

“Around eighteen hours.”

“How long?” She couldn’t believe her ears.

“What? I went all out against the hellhound.”

The mare sighed, “I don’t remember anything after you killed Butch. What happened?” She took the clothes off the nightstand and began dressing up.

“Well, everyone was in awe after the hellhound died. The dirty griffon-"

"Gadget."

"… was taken into custody back to the Underworld. I was escorted back to the other griffon-”

“Agnate.”

“... fed and given a medkit. A good one at that.”

“But we are clean.”

“I took a shower.”

“When? How?”

“They have a Purifier Crystal here.”

“And the water supply?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

The mare sighed, buttoning up the overcoat and wrapping the old bandage around her eye and over the iron muzzle.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I want to ask Master a couple of questions.”

“He is in the dungeon. Ask the old griffon by the entrance to the Underworld to know where that is. Don’t forget to claim the prize for the complete deal after that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She put the ranger cavalry hat on.

“Will you be talking?” She teased.

“There’s no point in keeping quiet anymore.” The mare sighed with a faint note of sadness or regret in her voice.

She approached the door, noticing a key in it. She pulled it out and left the room. She was standing a catwalk ten floors above the ground. Lines of doors just like hers stretched to both sides, each leading to a presumably indistinguishable room to hers. The living blocks were carved into the side of the query, identical levels cascading down like an oversized amphitheater. This was some sort of a motel or a guest house.

The top of the mountain was only a dozen meters higher, but the view was captivating nonetheless. A few war-time rusty artillery cannons and haphazardly-repaired machine guns dotted the rim of the mountain. The sun was showering the Haggletown in pleasant daylight. All the huts and shops were small and neatly packed down below in well-organized streets and districts - something not easily noticeable from down below. The only other structure as high was, perhaps, the Agnate’s building. And, of course, the fifty-meter grey rings and twisted arcs of the ancient metal beast that collapsed over the rocky cauldron. The pale-mauve mare couldn’t help but let a little smile form on her face.

She closed the door to her room and went down to the ground level. The streets were busy as the day before. Creatures were rushing around, buying, chatting, trotting, and minding their own business. The pale-mauve mare tried avoiding everyone, slithering her way through the crowds. But from time to time someone would recognize her, giving her a nervous look but not bold enough to approach.

She made her way to the opposite side of the town, passing the Thunderdome. It was empty. The broken projector was cleared away, leaving the place it belonged to hollow. The meat cleaver was taken away, but the railing and grid were still in shambles. The sand in the arena was still covered in sprinkled, dried out, and rotting blood. The mare walked by the metal dome straight towards the gate to the cave system under the mountain. The familiar old griffon was sitting in his booth under the same flickering light.

“Little Lady, what a pleasant surprise.” The griffon smirked, “Quite a show you gave yesterday.”

The pale-mauve mare hung her head. But she did not let a reminder of her infamous achievements hinder her for long and changed the topic, “I never asked for your name.”

“Glaucus Guts, but the folks here call me Manager.”

“My pleasure, Glaucus.” She beamed.

“The pleasure is all mine. Here for some business, hon, or just came to visit?”

“I would like to see Master, please. If it is possible...”

The griffon squinted, noticing the changed manner of speech, “First door to the left, wait for me there.” The mare nodded, moving into the tunnel to Underworld. One of the heavy metal doors creaked open to let the old griffon out. He was holding a set of keys with him. “Follow me.” He said, moving ahead. He was limping in silence, only the keys chiming every couple of steps. This was making the mare uncomfortable, though she wasn’t going to start asking what was wrong. They moved into the methane factory, but his time, instead of going down to the pig farm, they stepped onto the catwalk above it. They walked along the wall until the Manager stopped in front of a gate. The keys chimed again as one of them slid into a small crevice in the door and turned. They passed through. That was when the old griffon finally broke the silence.

“Abuse or death?”

“W-What?” The mare paused her trot, “What do you mean?”

“You are not the same creature I was talking to yesterday. I’ve seen it before, after the Talon Massacre. Same body - different personalities.”

Mare’s expression became grim. She lowered her head, “Both...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why have you joined Haggletown?” The mare swiftly changed the subject.

He chuckled, “I couldn’t just leave little Gabby to her own devices. What kind of father would I be?”

“Gabby? You mean Agnate?”

The griffon nodded. The mare beamed from the excitement of realization. The sight forced the Glaucus to crack up again.

“Um… I was wondering...”

“What is it?”

“Where does the town get its water? There is nothing but desert for kilometers in all directions.”

“There is pipeline going from the Salt Factory all the way on the north coast to The Sisters know where. We tapped into it.”

They were standing in front of a circular vault door twice the size of the Manager. He flickered through the keys, finding the right one and sliding it in a small opening in the metal. A soft click echoed through the tunnel, followed a heavy hissing of the hinges.

“I'll wait here.” Glaucus gestured the mare to pass through into the room behind the door.

The latter nodded and stepped inside. Before her, she saw a large rectangular room. The ceiling was high, at least three of the mare’s heights. Carefully chiseled out walls were reinforced with triangular steel braces and covered in a metal net. The chamber was split in two by prison cell bars.

“You.” A squeaky rancid voice of the Master, hoarse from dehydration and mourning, came sounding from behind the iron, “Here to gloat?” He was the size of a teenage colt, though the wrinkles around his face gave away his real age. His coat was mud-colored; the small sunken eyes - hazel. A short receded black mane was oily and clotted together from a lack of hygiene. His front legs and bare chest seemed fit and muscled despite the age. His hind legs, on the contrary, looked more like two small atrophied and twisted stumps then anything resembling appendages. They were sticking out of the torn off and swirled cuffs of old jewel miner’s pants, held on by a tough leather belt.

She sat down, leaning back onto a wall, “I am sorry.”

“Bullshit.”

“We- I never wanted to harm anyone, but I was left no other choice.”

“He was just a pup!” His face was twisted in an expression of mournful anger and his eyes glistened.

The pale-mauve mare hung her head, “Did you know that Blaster had six months at best to live?”

He instantly faced her in both shock and anger, “What?”

“His sclerae were yellow...”

“What?"

"His eyes around the irises. They were yellow."

"So what?”

“That meant his liver had failed. He had been living in pain for quite a while...”

They sat in silence until Master finally broke it, “He never complained… He seemed energetic. He ate loads.” For a little while, he seemed to have forgotten about the mare.

“Where have you met?”

Master’s eyebrows sunk. They both remained silent. Time passed and the pale-mauve mare concluded it was time to leave. She got up, apologizing again, and headed towards the exit when the unicorn growled under his breath, “Gerudo Canyon…” The mare stopped. “Of the Poison Pools Valley... I fell into Taint bog.” He nodded to his legs, showcasing the results of that fall. “Blaster pulled me out.“ He paused for a moment, “Did he die painfully?”

The mare shook her head, “I don’t think he could feel any outside irritators anymore...”

He turned away, a pained smile on his face.

The mare sighed, “Why did you join Haggletown?”

“I built it.” He puffed.

The mare contemplated for a moment. “Why did you side with Lord Gigantus then?”

“He’s strong. He can protect Haggletown.”

“Why would it need protection? I saw guns around the quarry. This is a miniature Citadel.”

“It can fight off a small attack. Once. Ammo is scarce. No food supply. It won’t survive a siege. Lord Gigantus has food, guns, and soldiers."

“So instead of waiting for Haggletown to be conquered by Gigantus, you offered it to him?”

“You can’t understand. Too young. Too naive. Hate to break it to you, filly, but it’s a free-for-all down here. The strong survive. The weak serve or die.”

She paused, “I might be young and I’m most certainly naive. But is it that naive to have honor? To have a moral code that goes beyond simple self-preservation and self-satisfaction? To be respected for your virtues and not your flaws?”

“Honor? Moral code? I had them, look where I am now.”

“What about the missing citizens? Pork supplies? Whatever guns you had?”

“Hard times - hard decisions.”

“You had sacrificed your own people.”

“I saved hundreds.”

“You abused your power!”

“I did what I must!” He punched the metal railing.

“Exactly!” She did the same, “You did what you had to...”

“Wha-”

“You have a horrible personality and the way you had treated your debtors is unacceptable, but that does not cross out all that you did in order to preserve the town and its citizens.”

“You praise or you mock?” Master was lost in this sudden turn of the conversation.

“Though some of your actions were rash and poorly considered, you can still make it right. But do you really think this is the end of your duties?”

“I did what was right. Now I’m in a dungeon for it. What else can I do?”

“Haggletown still needs its energy. Provide it. I will see what I can do about ammo and food.”

“Haggletown chose war.”

“Why can’t you see? Haggletown and Underworld are not two different entities. Neither can survive without the other. Neither can thrive without the other. They are one. A symbiote, if you may.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

He gestured her to come closer. The mare obeyed, nearing the iron bars that separated the two and leaned over with her ear. The stallion’s hoof propelled forward, taking hold of the fold on the mare’s vest, and pulled her in. Her chest crashed into the metal poles. The metallic taste of the bars lingered on the back of her tongue, mixing in with the smell of her once-rusty iron muzzle. The unicorn’s breath smelled of warm after-smoke of a heavy drinker. It layered with a damp smell of sweat and feces, Master was working on a pig factory for who knows how many years after all.

“One Nine Eight Six.” He whispered in her ear, “ My office. Find answers there. Trust nobody, especially not Agnate and her lackeys.”

He let go. The mare toppled back, quickly raising herself up once again and dusting the rims of her overcoat. Surprisingly, her chest didn’t hurt. That weak protection enchantment on her vest seemed to be the culprit. That, however, seemed like the only thing that enchantment was good for.

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss,” she nodded, “and thank you.” The pale-mauve mare was about to leave when the Master stopped her.

“What’s your name?” He queried.

“I don’t have one.”

“Choose one soon.”

The mare tipped the cavalry ranger hat and stepped out of the dungeon. The vault door shut behind her, sending a lasting dull echo through the empty hallways of the cave system. The lock clicked and the griffon, who was patiently waiting outside the room, stepped forward.

“What were you talking about?” Manager asked.

“Mournings and morals.”

“Huh.” The griffon seemed impressed or, at least, intrigued by her answer. He shook his head, “Where now, Little Lady?”

“Um… I’d love to talk to Gabby if this is possible.”

“That can be arranged. But do you mind if we pass a terminal first? I need to notify her for visitors.”

“Of course.”

“This way then.” He nodded, moving deeper into the tunnel.

The pale-mauve mare followed. The cave was the same with every step, lined with the monotone buzzing of industrial lighting on its walls. Now and then a gas pipe or a band of wires would appear, twist and turn along the ceiling and then disappear once again into a small drilled hole in a wall. Or a stain mark from condensed vapor and running rust flowing down to the floor.

"I was wondering," the mare began hesitantly, "you told me where Haggletown gets its water but isn't it salt or industrial water going from the Salt Factory? Where did you get a purification crystal?"

"You mean a Water Talisman?"

The mare nodded.

"When we began to deconstruct the Zebran Warmachine above us for scrap, it was a pleasant surprise to find one within its cooling system."

"And those concrete buildings on top, what are they?"

"This place was called Mount Dusty. During the war, it was one of the gem quarries and after the gems were all dug up, they found a small amount of coal deeper inside it. And it had some strategic relevance to the Mild Western defenses. Those buildings were military and storage facilities."

The Manager disappeared behind another corner. As the pale-mauve mare turned, a new view opened up to her. Up until that point, the tunnel was dug up, chiseled, but bare, but this corridor was wider, bulkier, the ceiling was high; the walls were no longer just rock and limestone, they were made out of concrete, rigid and angular. This was clearly an extension of the old concrete buildings on the top of the quarry the mare saw earlier.

But the hallway itself would be nothing special, if not for the horrific relics of the past that were carved into its walls. Long thin grooves, holes, and torn-off chunks from bullets. Molten and discolored cement from splashed potions. Charcoal burn marks from energy weapons. Craters in walls and ground from grenades.

“It will take a minute.” The Manager stopped, turning around to a pillar-like grey box with a big black screen in the front. A small green cursor blinked at the start of the line, awaiting for The Manager to type in his commands through a big keyboard below the glass.

The pale-mauve mare wasn’t going to just patiently sit by. The corridor, though giving her the chills, intrigued her. She walked over through it, looking closely at the damage from a century-old battle. Some of the dents in the concrete glimmered as she moved by. On closer inspection they still had greenish and pinkish metal shards stuck in them.

As she walked a spacious air vent caught her attention and she hadn’t noticed how she reached one of the grenade craters. Her hoof slipped. She quickly snapped out of it, regaining her footing. This was only to see a coal-black silhouette of an agonized pony figure burnt into a wall, surrounded by a pinkish-red aura.

An expression of shock painted mare’s face as a wave of shivers washed over her body. She was stupefied, just staring at it.

Dead silence filled up with muffled screams, rumbling of motors, cracking of burning wood, the crackling of guns, and wheezing of energy weapons. It was growing louder and louder. Mare's body tensed up. She was shivering. Her eyes began to water, breaths sharp and shallow.

“Snap out of this.” A harsh voice of the pale-mauve mare’s virtual companion commanded, climbing its way from behind the racket, “This is not real. It’s just a memory. It’s not real.” She hadn’t surfaced to take over, just spoke, “You are not there. You are in Haggletown.”

“They must pay.” A yet unfamiliar female growling voice rang soundly somewhere in the back of the mare’s mind, “All who are left will pay.”

“Don’t listen. Just focus on my voice. It’s just a memory. You are in Haggletown. It’s not real. It-”

A griffon claw tapped on the pale-mauve mare’s shoulder. All the ruckus and all the voices seized to exist, dragging her back into reality. She reflexively pulled on the claws, shooting another hoof to the griffon’s neck. She stopped as it touched the skin, grazing it enough for a droplet of blood to stain her hoof. A small streak of tears glistened down the mare’s cheek. It took a second until she recognized the person before her to be the Manager.

The mare pulled the hoof back, startled from what she had done and still disoriented. “I- I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to… I...” With a quick motion, she wiped her face dry.

The Manager raised his claws with an understanding nod. “Energy weapons,” he examined the silhouette, “nasty things.”

“They are...”

“Well, good news: Gabby will see you now.” He informed, massaging the damaged part of his neck.

She nodded. As they left for the Agnate's building, the mare gave one last glance at the ventilation shaft before it disappeared behind the corner. The entirety of the journey back, the mare seemed lost either in thoughts or her whereabouts. She stayed quiet. The Manager seemed to tell some kind of a story, but his words didn't reach her ears. What did, were the warnings of her virtual companion that the whole situation doesn’t feel right. She gave no reasoning behind it but a ‘gut feeling’ she had. It was sufficient enough for the mare to be careful.

The sun was as bright as always. It wasn't the same entrance to the tunnel system, than that they came in through. The streets of Haggletown were busy. Everyone was minding their own business, chattering, selling, and buying. The yesterday's champion seemed insignificant now, entitled only to an occasional glance or an even rarer nod, but more often to a cautious step back.

The four earth ponies by the elevator wheel way daydreaming, their heads rested against the base of the contraption. One was scribing something onto a piece of paper with a graphite stylus. He rushed to hide them up as soon as he spotted The Manager with the mare approaching them.

The griffon stepped into the elevator. The pale-mauve mare followed suite. As the platform began to raise, she got a glimpse of what the earth pony was drawing. It was a set of sketches and life-like illustrations of the Mad Mare herself in various action poses and a portrait of her just giving a kind smile.

She couldn't help but light up. “You've inspired someone…” She whispered to herself.

“If it isn’t my prized savior.” The griffon greeted the pale-mauve mare as she exited the elevator. She seemed in a much more uplifted mood than the previous day.

“Agnate.” The mare tipped the hat.

“Is there something you would like to know before you depart?”

“Depart?”

“Yesterday you said you will be leaving Haggletown.”

The mare looked aside with a raised eyebrow as if telling her other self “and you haven’t bothered telling me that?” She sighed, turning back. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“Not an issue at all.”

“Stay alert,” the voice of mare's other self warned, “I never said I was planning on leaving. The old guy probably told on our condition. She was testing if she could screw you over and you gave her the green light.”

The mare tensed up a little. Agate noticed it too, moving over towards the table.

“Stay calm.”

The mare ran her eyes over the closed curtains around the hall.

“The rooms? You're right: a couple of guards are probably hiding there. And since my performance during the ‘testing,’ they are most likely better prepared. We have the upper hoof right now, but not for long. Get the locket and get out of here. If push comes to shove, break the lever behind you: platform drops, you grab a loose cable and escape. If you’re going to lie - close your eyes. They give you up right away.”

The pale-mauve mare gave a small smile, "First things first: I would like my chainlet back. I never had a chance to take it off of the Crimson Sin. Been at, what I would've called morgue, it's not there. And you're way too thorough not to have taken it off yourself after the battle."

The griffon's grin turned into a grimace of a well-suppressed surprise. Agnate quickly pulled her factitious welcoming smile back on, "Of course." She went into the storage room of hers, soon reappearing with the mare's necklace, and handed it over.

"Thank you." The pale-mauve mare put it on, gently holding the glistening black crystal close to her chest, before hiding it under the robes. She sighed in relief before returning to the pressing masters, "As the job I was hired for is complete, I would like to take my reward and be out of your feathers."

Agnate, still concerned for the integrity of her town’s security and now relieved by the fact that the mare is leaving, nodded: "The carriage, as previously discussed, is parked by the entrance to the town.”

"Then I'll be on my way."

"Wait," Agnate stopped, "I don't know what Master told you about me, but don't trust it even for a second."

"What do you mean?"

"We found some evidence connecting him to both Lord Gigantus and Gas Town."

"Gas Town? What do they have to do with any of it?"

"Most of Mild West," Manager stepped in, "is under the control of three major forces: Citadel, Bullet Farm, and Gas Town. But a bunch of villages, settlements, and raider outposts have chosen to remain independent. I'm not even talking about the Buzzards, who themselves are a force to be reckoned with."

"The point is," Agnate nodded to the Manager, "Gas Town began expanding its domain. They send in a creature to destabilize a settlement's hierarchy and then take over."

"She's suspecting you," mare's virtual companion warned, "get out of here."

"I will keep that in mind." The pale-mauve mare began to retreat, "Thank you for your hospitality."

She stepped onto the elevator and it began to descend. Before the room disappeared above, she tipped her hat once again. The mare greeted the stallions by the elevator wheel once again before disappearing behind a building.

"That wasn't quite what I would call smooth," the mare's virtual companion teased, "but it did its job. Now, take the carriage and leave."

The mare swiftly changed direction, moving towards the second entrance to the Underworld.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving Master the benefit of the doubt."

"Forget him. He's not your concern. Get the carriage and leave."

"If it's true that Agnate thinks we are the spy, do you really think she'll allow us to leave?"

"You've got a point there."

The mare quietly went back into the tunnels. They were calm and empty for the majority of the way. But when she got to the ventilation shaft, four sets of hoof steps began echoing through the twists of the long corridors.

She jumped, pushing herself off a wall and grabbing onto the inner turn of the ventilation shaft. She quickly pulled herself up and disappeared into the tunnel before the guards appeared from around the corner.

"So?" The mare's other self needled, "How will you find the amputee's office?"

She shrugged, moving through the ventilation way while trying not to let her shackles clank on the walls.

"Great. So, what now? Will it just magically be the first door right around the corner?"

She made a sharp turn and passingly glanced over to find a lattice and a steel door with a MasterBlaster engraving behind it.

"And there it is… all magical."

The corridor before the door was narrow and empty. Only a couple of small ambient pictures hung on the walls. A lot of long and narrow claw marks radiated from the door in all directions.

The mare waited for a little just to make sure there wasn’t anyone around. The vent gave off a smell of humid dust and moldy aluminium, though the vent itself seemed more or less clean. She looked the lattice over. It was made out of thin metal plating. The frame was attached by two hinges by the bottom and a little pin on top.

It was silent. She carefully placed her hoof on the pin and jolted it forward. With a click and squeak the frame swung open. The mare squeezed through the new opening and landed elegantly with a soft clatter on the tiled floor. The corridor indeed was empty, though its sized were vastly underestimated. On one side was a long slightly curved and poorly lit hallway, on the other was a dead end. She approached the door. It looked like a pre-war blast-resistant gate with a large keypad stuck out of the wall beside it.

“One nine eight six, right?” She mumbled rhetorically, putting in the code.

The door clanked and hissed. The mare pulled on it with all she had, managing to make an opening big enough to squeeze through.

The office was big well-lit square, decorated by welded-together scrap metal incrustations, pipes, and beams. A big desk took up a quarter of the room. The wall behind it was almost fully covered by a corkboard with a variety of papers, pictures, and interconnected wires.

“Conspiracy theory much?” Mare’s virtual companion remarked.

“Let’s check before coming to conclusions.”

The mare carefully approached the board, looking over the papers. They were mostly lists of expenses and resources. But several lists caught the mare’s attention. She looked closer.

“Gas Town… So Master was investigating the same thing as Agnate…”

“So what about it?”

“That means that he isn’t what Agnate told us he is.”

“And…?”

“Look here, he is suspecting her.”

“So they are accusing each while the real perpetrator is staying incognito?”

“If only creatures talked things out before picking up the guns…” She sighed. “I need to tell Agnate this, so she will free Master, and we could deal with it together.”

“Like a big happy family, right?” The sarcasm in her voice was intoxicating.

The mare took the paper, pushing herself towards the exit when the back of her neck felt a sudden surge of excruciating pain. Her sight went black and her body grew heavy. She didn’t even sense her hitting the floor before she passed out.