Gearing shoots up as fast as he can, gaining altitude with each powerful pump of his crystalline wings. Flying up, and up, feeling the air zip by him and tickle across his wings, whipping the ultra-thin fiber that make up his tail and causing his metallic mane to lay flat against his brassy dome. But, no matter how far he rises above it all, he can’t rise above the facts appearing all around him, literally as far as the eye can see.

This. This is hell.

The greenest thing out here, in all of Equestria as far as he can see of it anyway, is his own crystalline wings. Whatever grass there is, is dead, dying, and always some shade of brown or gray. He can pick out buildings in the distance, in a few directions. Some he recognizes. Some he can’t.

Probably because there isn’t much building left to recognize.

He’d had thoughts, increasingly so, about getting out of the stable at the first opportunity, and making a bee line for a ministry HQ. But, what’s laying before him says that he needs to plan this out far more than his original thoughts lead him to believe. He may have been truly lucky to have been locked away in the stable. The literature was pretty graphic. And the ones he had access to weren’t the civilian copies, which had been edited to prevent crashing morale. No, the copies he’d been supplied with were grim. They were bleak. They were horrible. They were Nightmare Moon in the flesh unleashed upon the land.

They were tragically inadequate for what was before his eyes.

Not an order of magnitude off target, just slightly off. Not a perfect 10 point score on the rifle range by any means, but firmly seated on the 8/9 line just right of center. Still a kill shot to Equestria, but the reality left fewer buildings than anticipated and, if the time on his pipbuck is correct, the so called recovery is decades past due to even start.

Gearing looks up at the sky. Overcast he was used to. After all, rain is a part of normal weather in Equestria. Need it for the crops. But, this sky was different. He’s not sure why. Maybe it was his pegasus blood, or whatever you want to call the fluids flowing through his metallic body. But the sky looked out right angry to him. The clouds themselves seemed to hate Equestria as a whole, and kept it covered up from the sun. Like some bigoted hateful mother covering her foals eyes so she didn’t have to look at the zebra (or clockwork) they were walking past. These clouds didn’t seem normal at all, and they are, without a doubt, covering up the sun. And, it’s at this point, Gearing’s temper rises quickly.

They are denying Equestria Celestia’s gift! The sun itself!

With this, the betrayal has come complete in his mind. Regardless of anything else, this would be hard to explain. He looks down at the ground, looking for somepony to take out his frustrations on as he decides he’s going to have some really cross words for the next pegasus he runs across.

He begins a circling search pattern above the service station, not going very wide, but wide enough that he’s sure he can pick out anyone close enough to be a problem. But, there’s no one. Not in the rubble around the station, and not on the roof. Not that there’s many places for anyone to hide, especially from a discerning eye from above, but still, the area is eerily still, and devoid of life.

Now the only problem is the Station itself. He hadn’t cleared it out yet, and it is the only structure nearby that provides adequate cover from eyes in the sky. Even if only in a few spots. He dives down, losing all of the altitude in a calculated fall, feeling the wind rushing by him and can’t help but smiling. Freedom and the skies have always been one of his simple pleasures.

Well, simple for a pegasus, anyway.

He angles around, getting a good side view of the north side of the building, and zips down in a maneuver that quickly takes him counter clockwise around the building, landing on the south side at a full trot before coming to stop just before the corner. The other sides, and the windows he zipped by, held no clues to any life. The only other place to check is the large overhanging roof on the west side of the station where the large sky wagons could pull under to get out of the elements. He stands listening for a few moments. His ears twitch, scanning the wind and trying to discern the location of some noise he’s picking up. A slight rustling. Not in sync with the wind. Independent. Almost alive.

And if that expert analysis left him any questions, the loud ringing of a dull sounding bell certainly dispelled any doubts.

He sneaks up to the corner, sliding back as much as he can. He slips his head sideways, poking just an eye around the corner as he stays as low to the ground as possible. He pulls his head back the moment his eye had cleared the concrete enough to get a view at the source of the noise.

He sits there staring at the corner, waiting for any sound of anyone noticing his presence as he processes what he’d seen. There appears to be a group of ponies, in a wagon, inside of a large cage. The back of the wagon is nearest to him, and on the other side of it, judging by the hanging low utters, is a cow. She seems to be hooked up to the wagon, from the distance, but no one else is in sight.

He slides around the side, zipping into the entrance of the service station and double checking that it is truly clear. He pops back out, keeping low, and slinks up to the cage wagon. He pokes his head up, and stares straight into the eyes of a small earth pony, whose eyes jump to their widest, and they quickly retreat from the shock.

Gearing straightens up, waving a hoof at his mouth trying to shush them but freezes as he gets a look at the contents of the wagon. At the back of the wagon, a group of ponies cram themselves into the far side of the cage. Their eyes wide and their bodies shaking. Fear. He doesn’t have to be a diamond dog to smell it. They reek of it.

Well, they reek period, the fear is just the thing disgusting him the most.

The cage is full of a variety of filth. Their own mostly. The hay inside is matted and sticking to them in areas as they’ve not been able to get away from their own waste. In the far side he notices another pony, laying sprawled out, and quite dead. And had been dead for a while. Judging by the scorch marks around their shoulders and the complete lack of a head. The blood around the void where the base of the neck had been has long since dried into a tacky, oozy substance giving testimony to the not so recent death as well.

The other ponies had no choice but to stay in the cage with the corpse. The Gunners apparently either didn’t want to risk them running away while they cleaned it up, or simply didn’t care. And if that bit of information wasn’t enough to make Gearing want to wage the warpath across all of Equestria, the next realization surely galvanized his resolve.

They were all foals. Every. Last. One. Most didn’t even have their mark on their flank.

He directs his eyes over them as they shiver and shake. One of the little fillies moans, “No one move. Protectaponies can’t see you if you don’t move.”

One of the young colts elbows her. “That’s not it. Just don’t attack it. Don’t even think about attacking it.”

One of the older colts, still obviously scared, shakingly so, but apparently protecting the rest of them with his very body, faces Gearing down with a terrified, but strong resolve. “As if slavers weren’t bad enough…” he mutters.

Gearing looks at the one who’d just spoken, a dark yellow colt, and asks with a whisper, “Where’s the Gunners?”

They all freeze. Several exchange glances.

The young colt from before asks with his mouth hanging open, “It- it spoke?!”

The older colt elbows him and stares at Gearing with narrowed eyes. “Of course they can speak… they can hear too, you know.”

Gearing sighs and looks around again, his ears twitching around like little satellite dishes searching for a signal. “Gunners. Where?!”

They all look at him, and none of them say anything. Out of fear of making the Gunners mad, or fear of saying something and provoking him to attack, he can’t tell.

Gearing stands up more, and leans towards the bars. “Do you want out of that cage, or not?” he hisses at them.

Their eyes zip around as they all try to look at everyone else.

The older colt leans towards him a bit. “You gonna let us out? For real?”

Gearing bobs his head around. “That was the plan, after I deal with the rest of these Gunners.”

The other ones look at each other quickly, and the older one scrambles over to the side, having decided to take this chance, beatings and death be damned. “They all went in that way! One of the others came out here and told them all to get downstairs. That was a while ago. Hurry, let us out before they get back!” He points a hoof over at the gate.

Gearing stands up straight and looks at the colt for a few moments. “Twelve of them? Lead by Commander Bradoak?”

The children cringe at the very mention of his name, a couple even start crying. The young colt spits off to the side and shakes a hoof at Gearing. “Yeah, Thems the bastards all right… He’s the toughest of the bunch! He’s got a mean right buck to him too…” He rubs a hoof over his side, wincing at not only a recent memory, but the bruised ribs that give testimony to the treatment.

Gearing slings his rifle over his shoulder and sits down. “Oh. There’s no rush then.” He looks them over and waves a hoof dismissing any need for speed.

The colt grabs a hold of the bars, even biting at it a few times, before saying in frustration, “You’re insane! Come on! Let us out… nice protectapony… come on and help ole Apple Armor out of here…” Gearing doesn’t move at all, and the colts desperation surfaces as he beats on the bars some more. “Come on you metal wanker! If you wait too long, that Bradoak wanker will come back and kill you! And probably me too just for talking to you!”

Gearing replies flatly, “That’s not going to happen.” And continues to stare at the various children in the pen.

Apple Armor leans against the bars and growls, dragging his teeth along the disgusting metal. “Ohhh Mr. wanker protectapony thinks he’s all big and tough. Well you ain’t shit! Bradoak will smash you into scrap!”

Gearing returns his casual gaze to Apple Armor. “That would be impossible. considering I already killed them all…”

The group freezes, one kid actually snorts a laugh. Apple Armor smirks. “Yeah right… you? By yourself? Pull the other one!”

Gearing stares at him a moment and asks, “You said twelve, right? And they went in a while ago? All at the same time?”

Apple armor nods slightly. “Yeah… Why?”

Gearing shrugs then points a hoof behind him. “I can show you the bodies if you want… You were right, Bradoak was a tough bastard…” He grins and tilts his head as he slightly looks up and to the side, showing off his smile more. “I put an extra three rounds in his head, at point blank, just to make sure…” He wiggles his eyebrows as he practically gloats.

The others start looking around at each other. Apple Armor says in disbelief, “You’re lying. No ones that tough.”

Gearing shakes his head. “I’m not… I’m just smart… really smart.” He taps on his head and smiles. “I have a few old school tricks. Turned the odds in my favor. Now… speaking of being a clever pony… How about you tell me what those things are?” He points at Apple Armor’s neck.

Apple Armor spits off to the side then looks at Gearing. “For being sooo clever, you’re kind of stupid. It’s a slave collar. It goes boom if you try to take it off… or try to run… or they get bored… Everypony knows that.”

Gearing puts a hoof over his chest and says in mock shock, “Well I didn’t, that’s why I asked.”

Apple Armor looks at him, then sags his shoulders a bit. “Stable pony?”

Gearing shrugs and smiles. “You could say that.”

The majority of the colts look at him with an exasperated frown. Several say, almost in unison, “Stable ponies don’t know nuthin’.”

Gearing tilts his head and can’t help but smile. Stable pony. They probably mean it as some kind of slur. But he doesn’t care. Whatever they mean by it, it’s far better than ‘protectapony’ as far as he’s concerned. He leans in and raises a hoof towards Apple Armor’s neck.

Apple Armor jumps back instinctively. “Hey now, ya wanker! Don’t get so hoovsy!”

Gearing thinks about it for a few moments, and realizes he can’t march a group of… sixteen… walking bombs into the stable. That would be a security risk he wouldn’t have made as a rookie. Not to mention there may be some proximity detector that’ll detonate them if they get too far away. He grins and waves his forehooves. “I was just curious about that… I hadn’t seen one before… Mind if I take it? So I can examine it?”

Apple Armor rolls his eyes. “It’ll blow up if you mess with it, I already told you that, ya stable pony wanker.”

Gearing leans towards the bars, tilting his head to the side, and grins. “I’m mechanically inclined… can’t you tell?” He taps on his own head and chuckles. “I can get it off, no worries.” Apple Armor doesn’t seem very impressed so he adds, “Hey, I’m going to have my face point blank with it. I’m not going to do something that’ll get my own head blown off… I’m crazy, not stupid.”

Apple armor looks at him for a few moments then asks, “Well… what’d you give me for it?”

Gearing tilts his head “What?”

Apple Armor grins. “Well, you want my necklace. You’ve never seen one before… It’s a special necklace… if you want it, what are you going to give me for it?” His smile gets broad as he sits down and looks rather smugly at Gearing.

Gearings head tilts a few degrees as he stares at Apple Armor. Tick. Tick. CLICK.

The kid’s very life is at stake, but he’s trying to extort something out of Gearing anyway. Well. Damn. Kid’s smart. He probably thinks he’s pulling a fast one on Gearing. Gearing realizes that he might be able to flip the script on him, and just play the part of ‘stupid stable pony’ long enough to get them to safety.

“Well, it is a nice necklace. I think I can use some of the parts from it. What do you want?”

“Caps,” Apple Armor says without missing a beat.

Gearing tilts his head. “Caps? What kind of caps?”

“You know… Caps… sarsaparilla, sparkle…” Not seeing any recognition in Gearing’s face Apple Armor rolls his eyes in exasperation. “You know. Bottle Caps?”

Gearing tilts his head back as he lets out an elongated, “OOOhhhhhh.” He checks his pipbuck and the small bag of antique caps pops to the surface. He pulls them out as he chuckles to himself. Kids are so gullible. So easily entertained.

He looks into the bag he has then looks out over the foals, fillys, and colts in the cage. He does a quick count, though he already knows full well how many he has thanks to his sorting enchantment. Which is, thankfully, the one thing that does seem to be functioning for him. After making an exaggerated motion of counting the caps, and counting the heads in the cage, he says, “Well, ooookay. But, I only have enough to give you each one cap a piece. Does that sound fair?”

The cage rocks towards him suddenly as every living pony in the cage suddenly springs to his side of the cage with at least one of their hooves sticking out. They all say in unison, “Deal!”

Gearing is taken aback, but can’t help but chuckle. He knew people that collected caps from friendships and work. Like stamp collecting, but more durable. Maybe that’s the reason they seem to be collecting them. Only thing they can hold on to that won’t get ruined in the wasteland. The poor dears.

He pulls out a single cap, and holds it aloft for them all to see. “Okay, But it’s an even trade, right? I give you oooooone cap… and for each one you let me have a necklace… right?”

They all nod in unison. With a few of the younger ones chanting “Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!”

He walks over to the side of the cage, opposite of where they are currently, and near the corpse. As he gets close, he can make out the structure a bit, and notice that, judging by the frame, this was a young filly, who’d probably only recently gotten her cutie mark. It stabs a dagger in his heart as he wishes he could have gotten to her sooner. However, given the state of decomp, he knows full well he was in stasis and useful to no one when she apparently died.

Gearing motions over to him, and the others just stare at him, not wanting to move towards that side of the cage. He shakes his head and says softly, “Hey, I’m sure of my skill, but everyone makes mistakes. If… if something happens. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt so… this is just a precaution okay?”

Apple Armor looks at the others, closes his eyes tightly, then walks over slowly. He stays just out of reach of Gearing as he carefully steps around the corpse of his friend. Apple Armor’s pained expression is all Gearing needs to know that the two had to be close. Probably the oldest two of the whole lot. Apple armor looks at Gearing and asks, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Gearing nods. “We’re both going to be in this together… Don’t worry, if anything happens, my friends will come up and get the rest of you out.” He finds a hard time lying point blank like he did. Not that he thinks they’d just forsake these children to die of starvation, dehydration, and exposure, but calling them ‘friends’ is a long stretch.

Apple Armor gets close and holds out a hoof. “The cap first.”

Gearing chuckles and holds out the small cap on his hoof, and it quickly disappears before his arm even gets fully extended. Gearing’s eyes blink a few times then he chuckles. Apple Armor walks up to the bars, holding them with his front hooves as he lifts his head up and presses his neck as close as he can get. He shivers and shakes as he says with clenched tight eyes, on the verge of tears, “Well, do it already, ya wanker!”

Gearing looks it over for a few moments, taking in every little detail. He pulls up his pipbuck and starts tapping out a few commands, he mutters to himself, “No live signal… so it’s a receiver only…” He pulls out some tools and begins the delicate work. He asks softly, hopefully quietly enough that the others don’t hear, “What happened to her?”

“She tried to take her’s off,” he says flatly, not feeling like any more explanation is necessary. Apple Armor flinches and shakes as he tries to hold as still as possible. Sweat making his already matted fur darker and shiny in some spots. “Well?!” He belts out. “Do it already if you can! What are you waiting for, ya wanker?!”

He shivers and fidgets as he feels a tickling under his chin, but doesn’t move. A few moments later Gearing says playfully, “Goochy goochy gooo.”

Apple Armor pulls away, batting at Gearing’s hoof as he was tickling him under the chin. “The hell was that for ya wank-“ He stops mid sentence.

Gearing stands there, with an especially smug look on his face, twirling the bombcollar on one of his hooves like a miniature hoolahoop. The bomb’s lights are off and it seems entirely inert.

Apple Armor’s eyes go wide and he quickly rubs his entire neck with his hooves. He flinches a bit, as the bomb collar had been so tight it had made the skin bulge and he has a ring of bruises and blood blisters where it pinched the skin. He quickly scratches at it repeatedly, feeling the joy of having access to the single most itchiest part of his entire body. He turns to look at the others, with a look of pure joy, on his face, but only sees a wall of foals with jaws on the wagon floor. “What?” he asks.

The small bright-eyed violet unicorn filly points at him with wide eyes that sparkle as she says softly, “He did it… you’re free.”

The small colt from before nods rapidly. “It looked like he barely touched it!”

Apple Armor’s eyes go to their widest, and the realization that this might actually be real dawns on him. He slowly turns his gaze to stare at Gearing, and the rest follow suit.

Gearing continues grinning and spinning the bomb in his hooves, until he’s sure he has their undivided attention. He sets the bomb down carefully, then sits primly with chin held high in a perfect mock of nobility in the courts of Canterlot. “Next?” he asks flatly, before raising his hoof and showing another cap.

Multiple hooves shoot up in the air, and Gearing chuckles before pointing over to the small violet filly who’d spoken not long ago. “How about you? First, come on over here and I’ll get that off you.”

She nods rapidly, the collar, slightly oversized despite being as tight as possible, rattles against her chin before she bounds over and changes places with Apple Armor.

Gearing goes to work, and has the bomb off even faster this time than the last one. As he’s setting it to the side the little filly stares at him with a cross expression and stomp of her forehoof. “A-hem!” He looks at her and she holds out her hoof. “My cap?”

He laughs, and hands it to her with one hoof, as he rustles her mane with his other. She clasps the cap happily and giggles as he pats her head before bouncing over to join her friends.

Gearing picks up speed as he goes, going faster and faster, making a game out of seeing how fast he can complete the task. He and the children are having fun.

Until he screws up.

While working on the collar of one of the filly’s that looks like she’s just about the age to get her cutie mark, the wagon shifts, and his tools slip while in the middle of working on it. The collar’s lights glow and a screech comes from the bomb, as he appears to have crossed something.

On the second beep from the collar, Gearing yanks the collar off, and throws it a distance away from the station. It lands with a plop, but remains inert.

The filly, with her bright eyes, look into his and asks, “What just happened?”

Gearing looks at her face, and sees the trust in her eyes. The trust only a small child can give someone. The trust he almost betrayed. He can’t help but have the sight of the dead filly in the corner cross his mind, and realize, without any reservation, that in his haste, and in his own desire to show off, he almost made this little one join the other.

He gives his best smile and points a hoof at it. “It was being bad. I don’t think I like that one. Don’t worry, you can still have your cap.” He hands the cap out to her.

She looks from his face to his hoof, and scrunches her mouth to the side. “Well that doesn’t seem fair. If you’re not going to keep it, I shouldn’t get the cap.” A group of hisses come from her group of friends telling her that she’s being even dumber than the stable pony.

Gearing shakes his head and puts his hoof across his chest. “Well, it’s a matter of honor. I promised you a cap for the bo- … Necklace. What I do with it doesn’t matter… right?” He waves the cap at her and she gleefully takes it, then bounces over to the others.

The last couple are done slow, and methodical. He’s not sure if all of their moving around caused the wagon to jerk, but he’s not going to make that mistake again. Slow and steady wins the race, and the alternative is the blood of foals on his hooves.

Not going to happen.

He gets the rest of the bombs off and has them in a nice stack as he looks over at the group. “Well now, it was a pleasure doing business with you!” He grabs the bombs and starts stowing them in a saddle bag.

The kids wave and giggle their thanks.

Apple Armor bucks the bars a few times. “Hey… so what about letting us out of here?”

Gearing trots over to the back end and starts examining the door. Checking every little side, even flying up to examine the top of the door, drawing gasps from the children kept inside. He flops down onto the ground with a deep thud, and puts both hooves on the back of the gate as he stares at the lock. “Basic mechanical lock. After those collars this’ll be a joke.”

Apple Armor squeezes past the others and gets up to the gate “Well open it up already then, wanker.” He looks to the side and puts a hoof to his mouth as he smirks. “Or… is it too tough for you?”

Gearing raises an eyebrow at him, and can’t help but smile at the kid’s obvious manipulation attempt.

Playtime’s over though.

Gearing sits back on his haunches and looks the children over a moment before he asks, “First, I’m going to ask some questions.”

They all exchange glances, then look at Apple Armor. Apple Armor sits down and glares at him. “Oh, I get it. Now you’re going to make us pay you back the caps just to unlock the door.”

There are shocked gasps from several of the children. Several cradle their solitary cap even more. The one filly from before, with the bright eyes, leans forward and offers the cap. “You can have mine if you want.” Which earns her hisses from the rest of the group.

Gearing looks at her and can’t help but have a warm smile spreading across his face. “No, that’s okay sweetie, you keep it.”

She tilts her head, scrunches her mouth to the side, then nods and pulls her hoof back inside.

Apple Armor asks in a huff, “Then what do you want?”

Gearing waves a hoof around. “I’m a bit new around here… I’d like to know a bit of what’s going on around here… So… I’ll trade you. Answer a few of my questions, and I’ll let you out…” He looks them over and for the first time, with them all up near the bars right next to him, he can see how emaciated they are, with skin seeming to hang from their bones and giving them an even more haggard look than normal.

He suddenly gets the impulse to learn necromancy just to bring the Gunners back to life so he can kill them again.

The foals sit down and have a mix of looks ranging from confusion to disenfranchised. Apple Armor asks with his eyes so narrowed they are almost closed, “Well, ya wanker? You have a captive audience here…”

Gearing wants to chuckle. He does. It’s horrible. He feels so so dirty for wanting to. But, that was funny. He manages to not be a completely horrible pony, by only thinking it, and instead coughing into his hoof before he asks, “If I let you out, where are you going? What are you going to do?”

There are groans from a variety of the children at his choice of words. Apple Armor stomps his hoof into the muck of the wagon as he says, “The same thing we were doing before these wankers got us… Take care of each other and survive.”

Gearing tilts his head and says softly, “That didn’t seem to work out to well the last time.”

There are moans of agreement, and Apple Armor jumps at the bars and snaps, “We learned our lesson! They won’t get the drop on us again!”

Gearing tilts his head the other way as he thinks things through. Tick. Tick. CLICK!

Gearing perks up. “If I knew someplace safe… with food, and water, and you wouldn’t have to worry about any slavers getting you… would you be willing to come with me?” He taps out a message to Handy before returning his attention to the foals, and awaiting their answer.

[All hostiles confirmed KIA. You better get up here. Something you need to see.]

“I’d say you’re full of horseapples,” Apple armor says with a roll of his eyes. “If there was any place like that around here. We’d know about it.” He mutters a bit quieter, “And so would the slavers and raiders and you just can’t keep them out forever.”

Gearing grins as he leans in. “Not if the only slavers that know about it, have been killed by a certain shiny pegasus.”

He sits up proudly with his wing extended straight up and grinning at them with his head turned profile towards them. A couple of the children’s eyes go wide as they watch the various colored lights twinkle and sparkle across their filthy clothes and pelts.

Apple Armor considers him for a moment and looks back at his group. Then he leans against the bars and asks, “You ain't no filly fiddler, are ya?”

Gearing tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “Wot?”

“Colt coddler?”

“Huh?”

“A foal fondler?” Apple Armor asks half accusationally.

Gearing slams his front hooves across his front in a giant X shape as he yells, “Oh hell no! That’s… that’s disgusting!” He looks absolutely appalled as he looks over the children. They don’t have the same look of revulsion. Merely of thought. And it makes his heart sink. He shakes his head rapidly. “I get what you’re saying, No. Not going to happen. No ones like that in the stable. There’s foals in there already.” He looks them over and scowls, “And if I’m wrong on that, and anyone tries anything… let me know, and I’ll handle it… Permanently!”

Several of the children recoil at his sudden viciousness. Apple Armor, however, takes it as a somewhat positive sign. “Well then, what’s the catch?”

Gearing holds up a hoof and looks down. “First, I can’t guarantee you a spot. I have a high suspicion that I can get you in, but I have to double check with the ones in charge. And, even if I can, you’ll be expected to help out around the stable.”

“Doing what?” Apple Armor asks without losing a millimeter of his suspicion.

Gearing shrugs. “Well. Probably cleaning and the like. And, as you get older and learn new things, there’s always something in the stable that needs work or cleaned. The more help, the less there is on any one pony.”

Apple Armor looks at his friends then looks back at Gearing “Well, you let us out, and we’ll come take a look…” He leans against it extra hard and waves a hoof at him. “But if we don’t like what ya wankers are doing, were out of there! Got it?!”

Gearing nods. “Understood. Completely agree.” He looks to his side as Handy comes out of the station and carefully looks around the surroundings. The foals inside slink back away from the bars, trying to get as much distance between them and this new adult as possible. Gearing looks at them, and points a hoof at Handy as he introduces him, “Children. This is Handy. Don’t worry. He’s got foals of his own. He’s a good pony. He won’t hurt you.”

Handy takes in the sight, and walks around the wagon behind Gearing. “What’s all this?”

Gearing looks at Handy and rolls his eyes. “I might not be organic. And I know I’ve never had any children… but, and I could be wrong… I think they might, just might, be foals…” He looks at the kids then back at Handy with a grin. “Maybe.” He tilts his head. “You’ve heard of those, right? Tiny versions of ponies?”

There’s snickers coming from the cage as Handy slaps a hoof over his eyes. Handy looks at the kids then at Gearing as he says flatly, clearly not amused, “I can see that… Where are their parents? Why are they here?”

Several of the children’s mirth instantly dies as they flinch and look off in some random direction. Handy’s heart starts aching, and doesn’t’ stop until Gearing breaks the silence, “These aren’t the Gunner’s kids, don’t worry. The Gunners were going to sell them… as slaves… apparently.”

Handy’s eyes jump to their fullest as they dart back and forth between Gearing and the kids. “Well, we going to rescue them or what?”

Gearing slides open the gate, having unlocked it as Handy was walking around. “Already have. They had bomb collars too, but I already deactivated and removed them. Wanted to wait till you got here before I opened the door.”

Handy’s face pales as his jaw drops. “Bomb collars?! You decided to play around with bomb collars without even talking to me about it first?”

Gearing looks at him a few moments and raises an eyebrow. “What was there to discuss? Incase you haven’t noticed, I defused and removed sixteen of them before you even got up here” He waves a hoof around. “Obviously I knew what the hell I was doing.”

Handy regards him for a few moments before he says flatly, “Obviously.”

Apple Armor looks up at the two of them, from right between them, and asks, “You wankers going to make out or something?” They both look down at him and he snickers, “You’re arguing like an old couple.”

“I’m married,” Handy replies. “To a mare!”

“Not my type,” Gearing confirms simultaneously.

Apple Armor’s eyes zip between the two before he asks, “Well?”

Handy looks at Apple Armor then Gearing. “Well what? What did you tell them?”

Gearing looks at Handy, and hopes he’s judged his heart right, even the tiniest of bits. “We were hoping that, given there’s already a few foals in the stable, a few more would be okay.”

Handy’s mouth drops as he eyes the gathering foals climbing out of the back of the wagon. “I- I’ll have to talk with Nettlekiss… that’s a lot of extra mouths to feed…”

Apple Armor pipes up, “We don’t eat much!”

Gearing nods. “They’re pretty small…” He looks at the bright eyed purple unicorn from before for a moment, then looks back to Handy as he says, “Smaller than they should be, really… Handy, they need our help.”

Handy looks them over and doesn’t say anything.

Gearing prods. “Look. The stable was designed to be self sustaining for a thousand ponies. There’s not even a fraction of that now. Once I get that running, even a smidgen better than before, Food won’t be an issue… And that’s all we really need to worry about, everything else is already working fine… I can make this work. Don’t worry.”

Handy puts up both hooves, and closes his eyes. “I’m sure you can. But we still have to talk with Nettlekiss about it. It’s her decision.”

Gearing grins. “Okay, well then let’s go have a word with-“

“Kittty!” screams the violet unicorn, cutting Gearing off.

Both Gearing and Handy look over in the direction the violet unicorn is excitedly pointing at, and see Nahlah step out of the doorway. Nahlah looks around, eyes wide as she sees all the children bouncing around, then grins as she waves a paw at them.

Handy asks, “What are you doing out here?”

Nahlah thumbs back towards the door. “You two were taking so long, Swift asked me to come make sure everything’s okay.”

“Kittyyyy!!!” the violet unicorn screams again.

The next moment the air is full of flying children.

They soar through the air, springing from their various locations, and pounce on Nahlah. Nahlah’s smile goes from overjoyed, to friendly, to concerned, to out right frightened as the dark shadows of all the children overtake and blanket her.

A moment later, the only visible part of her is the tip of her tail that is twitching sporadically under the mountain of foalish flesh.

They gyrate all over her, climbing this way and that, petting and rubbing her fur. The violet unicorn says happily, “Soooo soooffft. Pretty kitty!”

Gearing and Handy stand there stunned for a few moments, then start snickering at the sight.

After a couple chuckles, Handy notices a pouch moving among the group, and a baton. A baton that he recognizes very well.

He stomps forward a few steps then yells out in his super powered dad voice, “Alright that’s enough! Now all of you get. Off. The. Cat!”

The kids jump in the air out of shock and instant obedience, springing into line in a semicircle forming around Nahlah at a distance, while looking at Handy.

Handy glares at them for a few moments and says in an exasperated voice, “Now, put it all back.”

The kids look among each other, and Gearing can see a cloth pouch be passed down the line away from Handy behind the kids, and can’t help but snicker.

Apple Armor asks, “Put what back?”

Handy glares at him, but Apple Armor doesn’t even flinch. “You know damn well what. All of it.” He points at Nahlah’s saddlebags, and the flaps that are still hanging loosely open. “Her caps. The Baton. And everything else you took out of her bags.”

A few of them freeze but others, most of them really, quickly, and sheepishly start pulling out a variety of items from hiding places that Handy and Gearing couldn’t see. Even pulling out items that neither had seen them remove and didn’t know she had in the first place. A couple of the younger ones even pull out hooffuls of fur. Nahlah’s fur, and carefully slide over to set it back onto Nahlah, trying to rub it back into her coat.

Apple Armor stands there, looking at the others with an eye half closed, but shoots a dagger like stare at Handy. “There. Happy?!”

Handy sits back and folds his forehooves. “I said all of it… Her caps too. I saw you take them.”

Apple Armor’s eyes go wide a moment, and he looks off in a different direction as he huffs. “Well I don’t see them…”

Handy looks them over for a bit and says with a softer tone, “Look. You’ve all been through a lot. I get it… It’s rough out there.”

Apple Armor looks at him and stomps a hoof into the ground before he shakes his whole body in disbelief. “What would a buncha stable ponies know about what it’s like? Huh?”

Handy shrugs and says flatly, “I only got in recently. Before that I had to walk the wastes with my wife and children.”

Gearing doesn’t look at Apple Armor, and is instead looking around at the surroundings and taking in the view of the other children. “I was dumped here in a crate and left for dead…” Gearing’s eyes settle on Apple Armor’s after finishing his statement and notices that Apple Armor’s staring right at him.

Handy looks at Gearing for a moment, then shrugs and nods as he confirms, “Yeah, that was a shock to stumble across…” He returns to looking at Apple Armor as he asks, “What’s your name, son?”

Apple Armor scowls. “I aint yer son.”

Handy tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes. “Aint got a name either?”

“Apple armor,” the defiant colt states flatly.

Handy waves a hoof at the other children. “Well. I’ll make you a deal… you give back what you took from her… and I’ll give you and your friends some food.”

The entire semi circle of children’s ears perk up, even Apple Armor’s. However, it’s Apple Armor’s stomach that betrays his stoic expression the most. A growing rumble increases until it becomes a practical roar with the mere mentioning of food. Apple Armor’s eyes go wide and he looks down at his stomach. “Shut up, ya traitor!” He punches himself in the gut with a forehoof for good measure.

Handy smiles and tilts his head. He reaches into his saddlebag, and pulls out every single thing of food he has. Gearing stares rather impressed at the collection of boxes, and cans that Handy lays out. With them, a few bottles of water marked with various descriptions of ‘clean’, ‘safe’, or ‘purified’ get set down as well.

The collection has garnered the attention of every one of the children’s eyes, even Apple Armor’s.

Handy waves a hoof over it and says, “You can have all of this. To split among you. And all I ask is that you give Nahlah back what’s hers, all of the caps you’ve taken, and let our medical bot give you a check up. After that we can talk about what next.”

A barrage of caps comes from the children, as fifteen of them throw their solitary cap, right at Gearing. He stands there, with his eyes partially closed, as they annoyingly plink off his metal sides one at a time to land around him.

Apple Armor is the only hold out, and looks at the others. “Hey! Whatchy’all doin’?!”

One of the older colts near him points at the food. “Even if they take all of our caps, that’s a deal!”

A young foal nearby has their face pointed down, but their big pleading eyes looking up at him. “I’m sooo hungry, we haven’t eaten in foreeeevveerrr.”

Apple Armor looks around at them for a few moments then spins around and stares at all of them “Hey! This could be a trick! We can’t trust adults. Ya forget the Gunners already?”

Gearing trots over and looks down at the food. He holds up an old box that seems to have some kind of cake desert in them. He sets it down and rubs his hooves together as he says happily, “Hey! I know! I’ll taste test it for you… you know… to make sure it’s... safe… Yeah. That’s it. Safe.” He holds the box up to his eye level, but off center so the children can see both his face and the box. “I haven’t had one of these since the war! I wonder if it tastes as good as I remember!” He sets it down, and slowly starts opening the box, keeping his attention on the children not far away as his eyes are actually at the box.

Handy smacks Gearing’s hooves away with a scowl. “Hey! I said those are for the children! Get your filthy hooves off!”

Gearing looks over at the kids and folds his forelegs in front of himself as he says, “Well! They didn’t want it!” He looks at the kids and asks as he snatches the box and waves it at them, “Right?”

The massive sound of stomachs rumbling, that comes in a chorus loud enough to sound like a platoon opening fire on his position makes Gearing flinch backwards in shock.

Gearing sets the box back down and looks at Handy. “I think they do want it…” He looks over at the kids, then pulls out a bit of fabric, puts all of the items on it, ties the top loosely, and holds it out towards them with his wing.

Apple Armor feels pressure on his flanks, and jerks to look behind himself. About six of the children are pushing him forward, with hooves, and heads, towards the bag. He rolls his eyes and goes the rest of the way on his own accord. He stops short, just out of reach of them, and slowly proceeds closer warily. There’s a long staring contest between him and Gearing, and he switches his eyes back and forth between Gearing and Handy, then, without blinking, he lunges up, swipes the pack, and quickly trots back to the others with the package in his mouth.

Handy snickers, but then folds his arms and yells out,” Okay now about the-“

Before Handy can finish the sentence, Apple Armor has back kicked the small sack of caps towards Handy, without even looking. Apparently they’ve decided that the amount of food they’ve gotten is worth far more than however many caps Nahlah had been carrying. As Handy picks up the bag, and his eyes are near the ground, he looks at Apple Armor’s retreating form, and freezes, dead stop, with his mouth open.

Gearing, notices this, and leans closer to Handy. “What’s wrong?”

“Even the colts… They’d do that even to colts!” Handy replies in disgusted disbelief.

Gearing follows Handy’s line of sight and sees, for the first time, the matted blood between Apple Armors flanks, and partially running down one hind leg.

Gearing’s eyes shoot wide and he snorts out a noxious fume as his hooves screech across the floorboards. He takes a few deep huffing breaths, then says to Handy before straightening up and turning his back to the children. “I don’t want to hear one fucking thing about taking them out… Ever.” He looks at Handy sideways as he’s turned around and made himself look busy picking up the various caps at his hooves. He hisses out in Handy’s direction, “Hear me?”

Handy just nods, and looks away in a different direction. The sight was confirmation enough. But it makes the situation worse for him, because he can only picture in his mind the horrors that these children have endured, and he can’t stop his mind from spinning down that particular dark drain.

Handy looks at Gearing as Gearing scoops up the last cap that had plinked off his metallic hide. “How’d they keep those hidden? You’d think the Gunners would have taken everything from them when they were captured.”

Gearing holds one up and giggles as he keeps his back towards the children. “Oh. That’s easy I gave these to them. Children… They’re soooo easily amused… They seemed to like these little bits of trash. I convinced them to let me have the bombs, in exchange for these little bottle caps… crazy right?” He chuckles with a big smile on his face. “Kids.”

Handy’s eyes go big, and he looks down at the pile sitting in the cloth in Gearing’s hoof. “Gearing… how many caps did you give the children?”

Gearing shrugs. “Like one each? Not many. I thought about just giving them the pile but there wasn’t enough for an even split and didn’t want them fighting over them.”

Handy nods “Oh… that’s not too bad then.”

Gearing holds them up as he looks for a trashcan. “Why? What do you mean? Afraid they’ll cut themselves on the edges?”

Handy looks at Gearing for a few moments and says something that nearly breaks every gear in Gearing’s head, “Gearing… bottle caps are money, you know that right?”

After a few moments Gearing starts laughing uncontrollably. It’s a good joke. Or, would have been. If it wasn’t true. Slowly, Gearing stops laughing, and looks at Handy completely dumbfounded. “Noooo… Bits are money. You know… Coins… about as big as your eye. That’s currency… This- this is trash.”

Handy waves both of his hooves. “No, seriously, Gearing… that’s money.” A sudden realization hits him and he grabs Gearing with both forehooves. “Tell me you haven’t been throwing them away!!”

Gearing looks at him a moment then lets out a long, “Nnnoooooo.” His eyes dart around for a few moments before he says, “I was seriously debating on it though…”

Handy slaps a hoof over his eyes before saying disgruntledly, “For now on. Ask me, or somepony, before just tossing away things you think are worthless… Okay?”

Gearing looks around and flops on his rear as he asks, “Well what else has magically gained value? Can I swap the mud off my shoes for some ammo? What about the tin cans from corn?”

Handy smirks, realizing the situation and finding the whole thing exceptionally humorous, having to explain such a basic thing to a grown ass stallion. Something even the youngest foal in this group of children obviously knew. “Mud, no, in fact it’s probably radioactive…” He snickers. “Scrap metal does have value though… Even cans.”

Gearing slaps a hoof over his eyes with a loud clang. “Well fuck me! I guess I better just keep everything then, huh?!”

Handy snickers and looks at him with a massive grin. “Eyup… pretty much.”

“It’s a good thing I’m pretty at least!” Gearing strikes his pose with his wings extended, causing himself to sparkle as much as he can.

The violet filly from before giggles as she wrestles with some food package and points a hoof at him as she says in an overly drawn out tone, “He’s preeeeettyyy.”

Gearing smirks and waves, then sits down and folds his hooves in front of himself as he ponders. He looks like he’s pouting, to most ponies that is. But he’s deep in thought. He’d been trained to do without. To be creative. To make due with whatever he could scrounge. But that wasn’t a skill that was very necessary in his day to day life and, in fact, caused a lot of problems with his interpersonal skills while not on assignment.

Now his ‘special skill’ seems to be a matter of life and death and has become as common as hunger.

Gearing notices a couple foals licking the inside of a piece of packaging, they have unfolded it and have it pinned down with their forehooves, licking the shiny insides as vigorously as they can. A smile on their face as they find small molecules of some unknown substance here and there. He looks at Handy and says, “Handy. I can’t watch this anymore. We need to get them some more to eat.”

Dead silence.

All around him, the rustling of plastic and packaging comes to a complete and abrupt stop at his comment. He looks over slowly, and sees all of the children looking at him. A couple of them have various packaging materials in their mouths. A couple actually seem to be trying to eat the packaging. But above all of that, is a slight glint of hope in their eyes. This food was amazing for them. And it’s more than they’ve had in quite a while. But, more?

More is better.

None of the children say anything. They know they’ve given everything they had, and have nothing else to barter with. Kindness is too much to ask for. Not in the wasteland. They’ve learned that through hard lives already.

Gearing gets up and looks at Handy. “I’m taking them in to see about getting them something to eat.”

One of the young filly’s with a tan coat says as she grinds a hoof into the ground, “I… I don’t have anything to trade… the only thing you might want from me… It’s just… I’m hungry, but…” She looks at Gearing and trembles as she asks, “Please don’t hurt me again… I don’t want food that bad.”

Gearing would vomit if he could. He’s instantly furious enough that he would, if he could, throw out a fiery cone destructive enough to receive applause from dragons and bows of submission from balefire bombs. He manages, through a great strength of will, to remain silent. Silent and immobile. Despite what all of his instincts and fury are demanding of him.

Handy waves a hoof, trying to throw out the images in his mind that had come crawling out of that spinning dark drain he’d fell into. “Just help out as you can. No one’s going to ask you to do anything that’ll hurt you.”

The kids look at each other and the violet filly from before says, hopefully, “We can make ourselves useful!” She looks at the others around her, her mane whipping around as she stands up tall and proud. “Right?!”

“Yeah!” their voice comes in unison. Then they start stepping sideways, looking at Handy, and with the small purple unicorn seeming to lead this strange side stepping conga line. Then, just as fast in unison, the children pony pile on Gearing.

Gearings ears go back as he sees the waves of tiny flesh coming at him. He glances around in different directions for avenues of escape, but sees none as the shadows slowly overtake him. The children bop and tumble in fast moving zipping motions all over him. With the kind of speed and enthusiasm that only small children can. Even more so with the amount of sugar a few of them consumed and giving them the relative boosts of a sugar high.

Handy bounces over in that direction and starts clapping his hooves together loudly. “Hey! Get’off’em! What are you doing!? Don’t go trying to steal from him too!”

The kids jump off and back into a semicircle line, all except the small violet unicorn that’s straddling the back of Gearing’s neck and rubbing the top of his head vigorously with a piece of cloth. She looks down and around her before hopping down to the ground and pointing up at Gearing with both forehooves. “See! He’s extraaa pretty now!”

Gearing looks down at himself and finds that, indeed, he’s been thoroughly cleaned. All of the muck that he had gotten on himself while sifting through the supplies on the dead Gunners is gone, and he hates to think where it had been transposed to. And, in fact, it seems that the centuries of dust that he didn’t even know he’d been collecting on his shell has also been removed. As every single fragment of his body glitters in the light, he looks down at the violet filly and grins at her. “Why, thank you little one. I certainly feel… prettier.” He stands at attention again and fans out his wings, catching the light and sending it concentrating and sparkling around the little filly.

She hops up and down, bouncing around in glee as she dances with the light show.

Handy looks at Gearing and Gearing replies as he starts walking towards the Stable entrance. “I had nothing for them to take anyway… Besides, for trust to grow, someone has to start…” He looks at Handy and says, “I’ll take whatever blame is needed. Don’t worry.” He stops just long enough to point back where they’d come from. “You probably want to check the wagons outside. Bring them in. We don’t want to leave any evidence that they were here. Also you’ll know what if anything from it all is valuable.” He turns towards the kids and says, “Come on, children. Let’s go inside and get you taken care of.”

Footnote: Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .

Primary Node query timed out. Attempting secondary…

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Author's Note

Chapter 4 gives a peek to Gearing of how far Equestria has fallen. Also ever more revelations to be contemplated on.

-Quillsy