Fallout Equestria - Second Chances

Chapter One

Righteous Indignation

“It’s a foregone conclusion but there ain’t no harm in trying.”

Lawbringer Record of Confession: Slaver C.F. Day 001

The landscape was basked in warm sunlight. A mostly sunny day in the Equestrian wasteland, though a dark storm lingered on the mountains that surrounded the valley. At the valley’s center was a small ruined town, surrounding a singular intact structure. An old Equestrian courthouse. Marble and granite in construction, it stood battered by age. Great pillars stood peppered with impacts from decades of hard weather and gunfights. A canvas banner billowed gently on the old bent flagpole out front. A simple grey background with a faded yellow three pointed shield sitting on its center. The walls were reinforced with steel and iron salvaged from wagons and carriages littering the nearby roads. Inside, several rooms were lit with oil lanterns and candles. The power having seemingly never been restored. In the largest of these rooms, a gathering of ponies settled into an old court. An aisle of old carpet split the room in two right up to the front. Seated on the right side of the aisle was a group of younger mares and stallions. They all wore dusty coats, some bore heavy barding while others preferred a lighter set, hats of all kinds were peppered through out them. The only real link between them being a small metal badge. A shield, cast of copper or silver, resting on hats, lapels, and on barding. On the left side of the aisle was a pack of older ponies. Most bore scars, some missing eyes or ear tips. While their outfits seemed to match the younger ponies, they all bore golden badges resting somewhere on their gear. Near the back of the room was a young mare, wearing a simple yellow sundress and some red ribbons to tie her mane. Though her head sat pointed toward a book in her hooves, her eyes were drifting around the room. She was a beige and brown earth pony. Though the other ponies in the room sat in quiet conversation with one another, she remained silent.

At the front of the room sat a pair of tables. Each seated before the large bench that once a judge may have sat upon. At one of the tables sat a round unicorn, well dressed in a vest and collared shirt, but clearly a bit uncomfortable at the table. Beside him sat another unicorn. Short, with a mottled brown coat wearing a plain robe. She held a quill in her telekinetic magic and quietly organized a small stack of looseleaf paper. At the other table sat a stern white coated earth pony mare, her longcoat having old military markings painted on it. Her wide brim hat, off and resting on the table. On it sat a silver shield. Her pale pink mane braided back behind her head. Cold eyes locked on a stern figure sitting ahead of her. Seated at the bench, dressed in a simple leather duster marred with years of bullet holes and grime was a steel eyed stallion. He was an earth pony, dusty brown coat speckled with the occasional patch of grey. His blue mane had thinned and greyed considerably with the years and his face clean shaven. He sat, impassive. His eyes scanning the room, scrutinizing all present.

The room sat in a hushed, oppressive quiet. The small conversations careful not to breach an unspoken limit until finally, the steel eyed stallion at the bench raised a hoof. Silence, utter and complete, fell upon the room. A pony stepped into the room through the double doors at the back. A yellow coated mare, her mane cut short. She wore a simple duster with a golden badge on it. The stallion at the bench looked to her. She simply nodded, then turned to face the room.

“All rise for the fair Justiciar Righteous Creed.” Her voice carried a tone of practiced authority and pride. At her command, everyone in the room rose to their hooves. The young mare in the ribbons looked concerned, having awkwardly tried to keep up with the others who had snapped to attention the moment the yellow mare spoke.

“Lawbringers,” The stallion at the bench, Righteous Creed, spoke slowly and evenly. His voice was firm, commanding. It held an air of authority, without pride or arrogance. “Today we sit for a confessional. It has been a great many years since our last confessional. A right extended to any Lawbringer who suspects an innocent pony has been wrongfully accused or charged. Though we strive to be just, we must also be fair. Though few ponies these days surrender to justice or are willing to go peacefully, today we are met with a unique challenge brought to us by extreme circumstances. Our order has fallen far from the graces it once held but even still we stand as a bastion of justice in the cruelty of the wasteland. May all but the Lawbringer who invoked this right, please sit.” With that, Everyone sat back down with a singular exception. The white mare at the front of the room, her hat still on the table as she remained tall.

“Charity, Marshal of the Order.” Her voice was soft, but in the utter silence brought by Righteous Creed her words carried easily.

“Why did you invoke this sacred right, Marshal?” Creed asked, his tone remaining ever straightforward.

“I believe, due to the nature of the culprit’s capture and the...” She glanced at the young mare in the ribbons, near the back of the room. “Dedicated defense he received, that there is more to the situation than mere titles and accusations. I believe we should hear the culprit out, if only to assuage any guilt that might be felt through execution.”

Creed nodded to her, “Then it shall be. Though he is a known slaver and is accused of a great deal more than that, let it be known for the record that Marshal Charity has called this in hopes of understanding the events surrounding his capture. You may take your seat Marshal.”

Charity, nodded and did so. She folded her hooves beside her hat, gently running one over the badge on it.

Creed turned to face the yellow mare who had commanded the room to stand. “Sheriff, have him brought in.”

She nodded curtly, turning back to the doors before opening one to speak with someone through it. After a hushed conversation, the Sheriff turned and strode to the front of the room. Once there, she addressed the assembled ponies of the courtroom. “Presenting under the watchful eyes of Marshal Bronze Star, the captured slaver.”

The doors at the back of the room both opened. A proud and righteous orange coated unicorn buck stood, nodding his head slightly to the room. His hoofsteps were heavy and precise. He wore a finely stitched waistcoat with several pistols holstered about him. He scanned the room, eyes a sharp green, before nodding to Righteous Creed. His heavy steps echoed through the room as he made his way through the doors with a chain wrapped around one foreleg. As he trotted in, a tall and lanky soft pink stallion was dragged along behind him by the chain. His long mane was matted over his face, the dull amethyst streaked with lavender. His eyes never rose to scan the room. His right eye was a rich magenta, with heavy bags under it. His left however had been replaced. A light scar ran around the socket, where a metal ring met flesh. Inside a soft pink glow emanated out, a cybernetic eye. He was thin and malnourished. Much of his body was covered in a tattered brown sackcloth and bandages, but his cutie mark was left on display. Three stylized hearts, a large one with two smaller ones, all connected by a black ribbon sliding around them. His hooves were clad in shackles, all chained together and connected to a heavy metal collar around his neck. He tried to keep his head pointed down toward the floor as he was dragged into the room. A pair of ponies bearing silver badges came up on either side, firmly pushing him along down the center of the room.

The young mare with the ribbons in her mane turned, wide eyed at his appearance. Her face fell as she took in the sight of him, following his dragging trot to the front of the room. Several voices spoke low and hushed about obvious mistreatment, while several more chuckled or jeered at the sight of him.

The proud buck leading the pink stallion slowed his pace, dragging out the display a little longer. He looked around with a genuine smile, some of his apparent comrades in the crowd giving him approving looks. He yanked the chain a bit, causing the pink stallion to stumble and trip. He hit the ground hard, before being dragged back up by the ponies at his sides. His hooves shook, weak and weary. He had trouble finding purchase to stand but eventually managed. The proud buck came to a stop between the two tables, the pink stallion stood behind him. The buck took the chain and looped it around a small wrung on the floor, before a lock wreathed in his magic snapped shut on it. He turned, looking at the pink stallion who finally rose to meet the gaze. For a moment they simply stared at one another. Pain clear on the pink pony’s face.

The buck frowned, “Slaver, you don’t do anything without my say, understood?”

“Ye-” The pink stallion was cut off again with hard smack across the face. He fell to one side. His hooves shaking uncontrollably. Looking up through clear fear in his remaining eye, he didn’t plead. Didn’t beg. Just... waited for the command. At the back of the room, the mare with the ribbons shot up. A look of fury on her face, before she was forced back into her seat by the steely gaze of Righteous Creed.

“Stand.” The buck commanded and so the pink pony did, his shaking hooves struggling to bring him to his full height. He closed his eyes, breathing hard through his nose before looking back to the floor.

“Good. You’re learning. You’d think being a slaver for so long, you might have an idea how one should treat his betters.” He gave a satisfied smile. “Now, state your full name.”

“F-Favor.” The pink stallion managed to speak, before getting struck down again. The pain was evident in his voice, even before the hoof landed.

“I said your name! Your full name, Slaver!” The buck growled, glaring down at the pink pony on the ground.

Without standing, the pink stallion dropped his head further before saying loudly, “C-Cherish. Cherish Favor.” He was hefted back to his hooves again by the two ponies beside him.

The buck turned back to Righteous Creed. The old stallion in the chair finally spoke. “State your rank, for the record, Cherish Favor. Please speak clearly and loudly for Stenographer Knit Pick.” Creed spoke calmly. The unicorn in the robe at the front of the room nodded to both Creed and Cherish, dipping her quill vigorously.

Cherish raised his head, breathing softly. “Formly Overseer of the Fillydelphia Train Yards. Currently, Chief Cooperative Organizer and General Personnel Manager.” He stiffened as he said the words, though his hooves still shook lightly.

The proud buck looked at him, glaring with indignation. “Your rank was ‘personnel’ management!? They were slaves, you scumbag.” There were several similar comments from the crowd of ponies, though none as loud or stern as the buck.

“Bronze Star, as the highest ranking member and sitting Justiciar I must ask you to take your seat, so we might begin.” He looked down at the proud buck, eyes showing no trace of emotional charge. Simply gesturing to the table with Charity before him. The buck, Bronze Star, nodded and looked back to the chained slaver before sitting down beside Charity at the table. She frowned at him and the display but didn’t speak.

Without another word Creed simply nodded to the two ponies beside Cherish, who each gave a hoof to their chests in salute before sitting down.

“Cherish Favor, you stand before the Lawbringer Order accused of slavery, wonton cruelty, and outright murder. You are suspected of rape, conspiracy to corrupt innocents, and robbery.” His voice was even. No condemnation or hate. Simply speaking the fact of the matter. “Do you understand the charges held against you?”

“I-I do.” Favor said softly, shaking his head.

“Then, as First Judicator, Justiciar, and First Captain of the Lawbringers I bid this confessional to begin.” The ponies in the audience, all save the mare in the ribbons, gave a small stomping of approval. After a few moments Creed raised a hoof, bringing another silence with it. He looked back down to the pink pony below him. “How would you like to begin, Cherish Favor?”

The pink pony looked around the room, eyes drifting from pony to pony around him. Lingering a moment on the mare wearing the ribbons in her mane, and Marshall Charity. “What’s the purpose of this... ah, confessional?”

“The point for you is to clear your conscience and explain how you got to this point, Cherish Favor.” Righteous Creed spoke impassively.

“To understand how I got here? Well it’s a very long story. There’s a lot to it. I ah... I think I know where best to begin. Just... bear with me, please. There’s a lot to go through.”

Creed nodded softly, “You have as many days as it takes to hear it all, Cherish Favor. This is a confessional, and as is tradition, you will be heard from start to finish. I shall only interrupt for clarifications and to end the session for the day.”

Cherish sighed softly trying to collect his thoughts before finally, with a sad look up to Righteous Creed, he begun. “It began with the whip.”

It was sharp. Loud. Like a gunshot without the fury. The crack of a whip. I was standing in the middle of the reclamation processing area under the unceasing crimson haze of Fillydelphia. Which, really, was the scrap yard where slaves dug through irradiated trash and junk for anything remotely useful and separated them into boxes, to be sent to the various work yards and factories we had gotten running again. It was a crucial part of the overall industrial center that was Fillydelphia. I had been sent down here to assess the local overseer, Whisper, and get her to stop missing deadlines. Overseer Glass, the mare in charge of general distribution in the train yard had requested it personally. Mostly since she was the one that had to deal with the delays from Whisper’s scrap gatherers.

She had drawn her whip back to strike again. It was a cruel and wicked thing, long and thin with a flayed tip but with a bit of stripped copper wire running it’s length. The wire would cause far more damage and burn on impact, compared to a regular whip. Whisper was a unicorn, her magic allowing her to draw this out without much extra effort. Her coat and mane were both ruddy and dark, ugly colours. She wore a tattered coat that left her cutie mark, a kitchen knife, exposed. The slave she had just struck had fallen upon impact. She stumbled and struggled to get back up only to have the whip crack back again, throwing her back down into the dirt with an agonized scream. I didn’t even blink until I heard the third crack. The whip cutting across the slave’s back, forcing out an even more tortured scream. Her bare back was torn up, three agonizingly bloody red lines ripped down through the flesh.

She had been pleading when that last strike hit. I trotted over to her, an imposing sight in my black combat barding and heavy gasmask. I reached down and dragged her to her hooves. “Get on back to work now, slave.” I commanded, giving her a push back towards the refuse pile she’d been sorting. A few of her fellow slaves caught her and helped keep her from falling again. I turned back to Whisper. “Darlin, I’m not quite sure that’s the best way to motivate them.”

I stood out horribly from the usual goons sent to deal with her. My gear was well above the scrapped together gear most slavers carried for I bore the honor mark of Red Eye, master of all Fillydelphia, upon on my plating. A singular dominating red eye. My mask had a speaker system integrated into it, to provide a clear and unmuffled voice. It helped add to my air of sarcasm and disdain as I chided her.

“You fuckin gettin up on my back now, princess? Didn’t think you could prance all the way from those fancy digs without getting winded.” She barked back at me, “These fucking useless sacks of shit are so far behind on meeting our quota, I’m having to run triple fucking shifts. You seen what that kinda stress does to a lady’s complexion?”

I laughed a bit, trotting up close to her. She was rank, I could smell her through the filters in the mask. “Listen, I just got sent down here to help you sort that shit out and the first thing you do is whip a well behaved slave raw. She wasn’t even behind.”

Whisper gave me a sharp look. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, tail raiser.” She and I had met a few times prior. Mostly with the same pretense, to chide her about her failed quotas. “I’ve been doing this for a hell of a lot longer than you’ve been sucking up to the big boss.”

“Sorry Whisper, but that’s the thing. I’ve been sent down here to get your little shit show back on the road, darlin.” I inclined my head towards her slaves. All of whom were run ragged. “Now, my assessment of this shitty situation you’ve dug yourself in, is pretty simple.” I said cooly, bringing a hoof up to brush back my long mane. “You’ve beat your stock into submission, but they hadn’t been doing anything wrong. And unlike those psychos, Ballast or Shackles, you don’t get results from it.”

She glared at me, “You sayin it’s my fucking fault these useless sacks of shit can’t get the damn job done? You callin me weak, prancer?”

I rolled my eyes, the red lenses of my mask clear enough for her to see. “First off, call me prancer again and I’ll show you why I’m the one down here and not Glass.” I ensured the line held a blithe tone. A cheery grin crossing my muzzle under the mask. “Second of all, no. I’m not calling you weak, I’m calling you stupid.” Her eyes went wide and then narrowed dangerously. I wanted her to try something. I had been antagonizing her since I got down here. Glass sent me down because of my titles as Chief Cooperative Organizer and Red Eye’s ‘Personnel Manager.’ What that actually translated to was: I had been one of the most efficient overseers in all of Fillydelphia, with the lowest casualty rate and I knew how to fix other ponies fuck ups. That also meant I had authority to reprimand slavers who failed to fix their back logs or who were failing to meet quotas. That was to a degree, my job. Making sure slavers were in the right roles for their skills, running things efficiently and could meet their damn quotas.

“And just what would you do to fix this fucking mess then, princess?” Always with the damn names. Being a pink stallion wasn’t easy. Being the symbol of authority, while being a pink stallion in the middle of the hell that was Fillydelphia? Sometimes you had to make a point.

I simply reached up, grabbed her by the mane and as she drew that whip I struck her hard across the face with my other hoof. She fell, the blow shattering her concentration and hold on her whip. I put my hoof on her head, pushing it into the dirt. It was extremely satisfying. “Shut up and listen, Whisper, because I’ll not say this so politely next time. You’re failing to meet your fucking quotas and you’re fucking damaging the stock to do so. Stop the needless whipping. You’re an overseer, not a bloody raider.” She squirmed under my hoof, but the click of my battle saddle and the rifle attached to it switching off the safety stopped her. That mask I wore also had an integrated firing mechanism that linked to my saddle. It wasn’t ideal, but it did allow me to catch ponies off guard with how quick I could utilize it. “Now. I normally avoid public displays like this because it makes it hard to ensure that you can get them to do their fucking jobs but I’ve half a mind to put you down for incompetence and inform Glass that you expired under my care.” I growled.

She didn’t respond, eyes wild and leering up at me, tears building on her face either from the shame or the pain, I didn’t care which. I slowly lifted my hoof and she gathered herself up. I could see the hate burn on her face before she screamed in rage and pounced at me.

Thawp-thawp-thawp. Three shots, a short burst of fire from the rifle attached to my saddle. The flare of the shots and sound barely noticeable thanks to that lovely little suppressor. The blossoms of blood spraying from her chest and shoulder as I stepped aside, her body crashing into the dirt. This would be the last time that I’d have to 'correct' her. I was tired of the derision. The slaves stared in confusion, before I turned to them. “Get the fuck back to work, unless you want to end up like her.”

They did so. Some quickly rushing back to their work. Others lingering and looking back at their now dead overseer. One of the guards, a cream coloured mare with a short cropped and slicked back black mane only had eyes for me. I ignored her, barking orders at those who strayed too close to Whisper’s body or her whip.

It was a few hours before a successor was chosen. I sent a runner to Overseer Glass, to let her know I’d shot Whisper. She wasn’t happy but the judgement of Fillydelphia was final. This was her fourth warning and clearly she wasn’t intent on listening. The new overseer of the yard was a younger mare named Jester. I spent an hour or so going over the roster of slaves with her. Jester, fairly new to the role, had been one of Glass’ enforcers and aides. She was eager to learn and listened to the short bits of advice I could give. Slaves, for what it was worth, were still ponies. And ponies work best when they’ve at least got a friend nearby. Not close enough to encourage trouble, but enough to reassure them. A careful balance but after Whisper? A fucking foal could’ve commanded those slaves and they’d have been more efficient. After a bit of reorganizing, I left her the roster and she set about making the changes I recommended.

This sort of thing wasn’t uncommon but was never welcomed. Fillydelphia was a delicate powderkeg of intricacies and politics but that never stopped me from fixing things. It’s what cost me my position as an overseer, meddling in other ponies business. That’s the strange thing about the Red Eye’s slavers. They were not his. They simply worked for him. They weren’t exactly loyal like his core guards and staff were. We were loyal to him and his ideals. In a way, they were no different than the slaves. Bent to Red Eye’s designs, through his sheer will and firepower. They were fiercely independent but none dared speak openly against him, and only a few dared speak behind closed doors. In truth? I believe Red Eye knew all too well the dangers he courted with them but progress demands sacrifice, as he so often said. Yet, there’s a key difference in serving as an overseer and to serving Stern or Red Eye directly, as I did now. As an overseer, I was required to be independent. Couldn’t show favoritism or anything like that. Had to let my quotas and efficiency speak for themselves. In exchange, I’d have my own stock of slaves and personal servants. I also held voting power in rankings for slavers and could help shape the political future. Serving Red Eye as his Personnel manager? I held none of that power. I was but a tool for Stern and Red Eye to shape the failing overseers.

I returned to Glass’ office after helping Jester get her hooves on the ground. Overseer Glass, was the general overseer for the Train Yard and held power over several other lesser factories. She and I didn't see eye to eye. She was, as ever, a true slaver. Control and power. Didn’t care so much about grand ambitions of our Master, Red Eye. That was fine by my accounts, she was efficient and didn’t beat her stock too much. I wasn’t there to ensure loyalty.

Her office sat in an old rail house. Boxcars sat on the rails, being filled with crates and boxes. Some were ramshackle constructs, others more traditional railway fair. I had once run the yards. Though the boxcars had changed a bit, and there were more ponies, it still ran close to my original schedules. The slaves milled about with the boxes and crates, some stopping to quickly chat but never for too long. Above it all, gantries ran and connected to stairwells and hanging guard posts. She had slavers armed with rifles up top, while a pair on the ground had shotgun saddles. The pair on the ground made slow and cautious patrols. A bit more security than I ever needed, but considering her workload and the pressure on her from the other overseers for their ‘projects’, I couldn’t blame Glass for getting cagey about problems. Her office and residence, my old office, sat at the back of the rail house, up a flight of stairs. It gave her a commanding view of the floor below, and access to the gantry. More so, though, it gave her a bit of control over the main entrance. The control box sat in that office. With a simple switch she could shut the main doors on either side of the building.

I pushed her door open, stepping inside. Glass was another unicorn, thin and wiry. A simple brown coat with a short black mane, styled to one side. She wore an old collared shirt with old equestrian police barding over it. On the table was a revolver, and holstered on her barding were two auto pistols. She was sitting back in my old chair, hind hooves folded over one another on the desk. She closed her eyes before looking up at me. She had a pair of gleaming emerald eyes. “You shot another overseer.” Her tone was blunt, disapproving.

“Mmhm.” I smiled, having taken off my gas mask along the way. “She was failing to get results, damaging the stock, and just would not stop with the insults. I don’t mind a bit of cheeky banter, darlin, but I draw the line at prancer and princess.”

She tilted her head before sliding her hooves off the desk to sit properly. “That’s three overseers in as many months. Red Eye cannot be happy with that kind of attrition.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Sweetheart, considering the caps he pours into these slaves, I’m pretty sure I’m still in the black as far as costs are concerned.” I stamped a hoof for emphasis. “You keep promoting shitty ponies to a fucking easy job. This yard is not that damn hard to run.”

Glass sighed, “I’m aware. Look, Whisper was only gettin-”

“Whisper had three previous warnings. This was her fourth. I’ve shot ponies for much, much less.” I cut her off sharply. “I don’t care about the politics of the situation Glass, I don’t care about this being my old stomping ground. I care about two fucking things. Results, and making sure these fucking ponies last long enough to get those results.” I gestured a hoof out the window. I’d been angry for a while, Glass was running my old post into the ground. “Your turnover is way too high outside the Rail House. The overseers under you are all terrible. Your personal work force? Great though. Which is why I’m here. I like you Glass, as much as I can at least. You’ve kept this rail house going well but your taste in underlings is suspect at best. If you have more like Jester you might do okay but your other posts are a mess.”

I noticed the glow on her horn, taking note of her holstered pistols and the revolver. No telekinetic grabs yet. She folded her forehooves on the desk. “I will not step down, Favor. I earned this place. You fucking chose me. I will not bow because you’re missing this place”

Admittedly, I did miss the Rail Yard. It was my home for a long time. “I don’t want you to resign or step down.” I sighed softly as I rubbed my temple with a hoof. “I just want you to do better, Glass. I don’t like coming in here, threatening you. You’re a good overseer, you’re just a shit leader.”

“Gee Pinks, thanks.” She hadn’t called me that in a while. “I’m trying, alright? I don’t get to pick my staff like you did. I’ve got to steal em from where I can get them. Not many want to be on the chopping block you’ve created either.” A small stack of envelopes levitating up before dropping onto the table. “So many ponies are turning away from my offers because of your wanton punishments.”

That was fair. I didn’t like it but it was fair. I bit my lip, before sighing. “Look, if you can bring the general production across the board up by two or three percent I’ll lay off. Stern’s up my ass about you.” Stern was Red Eye’s most loyal supporter and a griffin mercenary. She and her Talons, were a massive boone to him. For me, she was just my next superior. I didn’t mind her really, she was utterly loyal to Red Eye. Beyond caps, beyond typical griffin loyalty. She was a believer. She was in charge of Filly, more so than Red Eye in practicality but she was little more than an extension of his will. I couldn’t help but respect that part of her, even if she could be a bit, ah, stern about everything.

She looked displeased with the news but nodded with a sigh. “I know this isn’t fun for you, Pinks. I’ll... try to boost production. If ah... If you need to come down here again, please come directly to me first. I just want to know if I’m going to need to prep another new overseer.”

I lifted my head, giving her a warm smile. “Glass, you were my choice when things hit the fan. I know you can do this, I’m just frustrated. I’ve got more power than ever but I’m not allowed to fix my old yard. Seeing idiots ruin such an orderly structure... it's just maddening. Not to mention the attrition rate among the stock. These used to be my ponies, Glass.” I turned to look down and gaze upon the floor where the slaves worked. “Written Script is still here, limping as ever.” I said, pointing to an elderly earth pony. “Kept him on light duty, good. Most would’ve just worked him to death. His talent with writing is surprisingly useful.” I moved my gaze to a pair of unicorns. One orange, the other yellow. “Lemon and Hazard are still here as well. Kept them together too, good. They’re docile but work wonderfully together.” I moved my gaze to one of the slavers. A purple earth pony with a shotgun saddle down below. “Lockstock is getting older, surprised he’s still got that damn quad shotgun. Can he even fire it without falling over?”

She chuckled, standing up and coming over to stand by me. “Pinks, he had to get it tweaked to fire each barrel individually. Kept getting blown off his hooves from the recoil of all four. Do you really still remember them all?” I wasn’t sure if that last comment was derisive or not.

I chose to take it as a compliment. I turned my head to look at her. “Glass, I don’t forget ponies I get to know. Pretty sure only pony who could out compete me there is Red Eye himself, but in all fairness, that eye of his can display all the info he needs without you being aware.” I was easing off her, she had a point about killing too many of the new overseers. She was always good at disarming me when I was bothered. “Every single pony I once owned, and any pony I care for. They’re all up here.” I said with a tap of a hoof to the side of my head, before brushing my mane back. In truth, that’s what bothered me so much about the sorry state of my old yard. So many good ponies wasted by incompetence. I didn’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of them, there were faces without names and some ponies I only ever knew through their work reports but having gone through the reports and walked the yard... there were few left from my original stock. I brought a hoof to pat her on the back. “Thank you for at least keeping some of them going.” An understanding, if not an outright truce on this whole matter.

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugged and brushed a hoof through her own mane. “I try to keep em around for you. We’ll get our numbers up. I’ll talk to the others and see what I can do. Can’t promise lower turnover, the quality of slaves has gone down a great deal in recent months but... well, I’ll see what we can do. If nothing else, to keep Stern from sending you down here to clean house.” That last line was quieter, spoken with a grave concern. I didn’t like invoking the griffin leader but she wasn’t giving me much in the way of a choice.

“Then I’d best get going, don’t want to be late for my next appointment.” I chuckled, taking to the door. “Keep me posted, Glass.”

“Always, Pinks. Keep that tail up on the way out you tease. Need something pleasant to think about now that I’ve gotta worry about Stern.” I did.

My next destination was on the other side of the city. The Parasprite pits. Before the megaspells destroyed Equestria in the war, Fillydelphia had an infestation of parasprites. They’d survived the balefire and years of exposure, largely intact too. Unfortunately however years of isolation and mutation turned them carnivorous. They were largely kept in check by burning their infestations out and incinerating their hives. However, all it takes is one to escape and then you’re at risk of another infestation. Without the right gear, the little monstrous beasts could strip a pony to the bone in a matter of moments.

A recent breach in the parasprite pits allowed some to escape the flamethrowers and guards. They’d swarmed into a prewar Ministry building and infested it. The old Ministry of Image, the propaganda machine of old equestria that had once been responsible for controlling Equestria’s news. This meant the hub had printing presses. Red Eye dearly wished to get those printing presses working again. So, I was to ensure it was being taken care of. I made my way through the yards, passing rows of slaves being ushered around by their masters. I could hear the slavers talking about Red Eye’s announcement. Every now and then, Red Eye would give a speech in person. His oratory was always amazing and it pained me to miss the speech but I was running late.

I rounded a corner, bumping into a group of slaves being escorted through the roads. I didn’t fall, but the slave I bumped into did. Irritated I glared down at the slave before me, while the other slaves around us stopped. Some gasped, some were worried, the slaver escorting them all let out a small gasp himself before rushing up to me. He was a young beige stallion, dressed in typical low grade mismatched leather armor.

“S-sir! Sorry, I-” He began before I brought a hoof up to his muzzle to shush him. I was about to tear into him about watching where he ran his slaves when it struck me. I knew this slaver.

“... Chalkboard?” I asked tilting my head a bit. “They’ve got you running slaves now?”

He nodded vigorously. “Sorry Favor, I’m still getting used to keeping them in line.” Chalkboard had been one of my guards as an overseer. He wasn’t built for the slaver life. Honestly, he’d be better off serving Red Eye as a teaching assistant or a researcher. Filly however, runs without sanity or sense. Ponies with specialist talents are thrown into mines or pits to waste away and languish. Idiots and those willing to play politics are promoted. Chalkboard was just a perfect example of how that lunacy stretched beyond castes of slave and slaver. Affecting every facet of the city.

“It’s okay.” I smiled a bit, turning back to the slave that had fallen. “You’ll get used to controlling them properly.” The slave looked up to me. A pathetic and sad look, hurt and afraid. A look I was all too used to, but beyond the look was something more. Something familiar. Three bloody red lines across her back. Whisper’s victim. Without a word, I reached down and pulled the mare back to her hooves for the second time that day. The slaves around her looked concerned, but I simply pushed her back into line with the others. “But ah, in future Chalk? Try to avoid letting them get close to corners. They might be shackled together, but they can still try to slip those and book it.” I said before giving the younger stallion a smile.

He nodded respectfully. “Yes sir!”

I raised another hoof to silence him. “Don’t call me Sir, Chalk. I might bear the honors, but I’m still the pony you knew. Favor will do, as it always has.” I smiled warmly at him. He was a bit young for me, but he was still pretty cute. Shame to see him here of all places. “Oh and you might want to get going. I know Red Eye’s speech will be happening soon.”

The younger stallion nodded vigorously, then began to shout orders at the slaves to get moving and to shift towards the center of the street. As Chalk and the slaves with him left, I looked back towards them. My eyes following that wounded mare. The part of me I had long learned to bury, ached at the sight. She was limping from the pain. Needless damned pain. She hadn’t even run behind in her quota.

My teeth clenched. For a brief moment I remembered the terrified look in her eyes. Staring up at me after she’d been struck down. It was so... achingly familiar but I couldn’t place it. I could feel my jaw grind as I thought about the other slaves Whisper had beaten pointlessly. Ponies that had been mine. That I’d been responsible for. That’s when I noticed the shakes creeping back into my hooves. I cursed loudly.

It always started this way. A creeping shake slowly unbalancing me, then came the pin pricks of pain working up my sore joints. Then brutal aches. I had some time before everything screamed in agony again. I looked around for somewhere quiet and out of sight. Of course it had to happen now. With a sigh of relief I spotted the small ruined bus shelter. With shaky hooves, I made my way over to it before putting myself right against the back of it. Out of sight of everyone except the occasional griffin flying over head. It was the best I could do. With as much care as I could summon with my shaky hooves, I sat back and opened the small metal cylinder that sat on my belt. Inside sat two syringes. I pulled one out carefully by my teeth before latching it closed with my hooves. Holding the thing in my mouth, I rolled up the sleeve on the body glove I wore under my armor. Exposing the right spot, I carefully drew out a loop of tubing from the small medical kit on my belt. I tied it tightly around my upper foreleg. In a short moment I had the vein located. With care I lined up the point of the syringe and held my leg still with the other. In a singular fluid motion, I drove it into my leg and slid my tongue to the plunger pushing it down fully. I slumped back against the bus shelter, eyes going to the sky to ensure no curious griffin had seen.

It took the painkiller a few moments to fully kick in. A wave of relief crashed through my body, stifling the aches and pains and bringing order back to my hooves. Within a few minutes I was good as new. CareChem, Med X, Ministry of Peace Military Grade Pain Suppressant. It had a bunch of different names, depending on the branding or container. In reality, it was a high grade painkiller designed for combat surgeries that many soldiers often stole to keep them going when the pain got too much. Still saw lots of use today. Red Eye even had a few chemists who could produce it for medical use in the slave hospital and the better grade care a lot of Slavers received. For me, it was a way of ensuring I could keep going steady. A way to push through the aches and pains that Filly gave everyone. A way for me to get out from under it for a bit. Unfortunately prolonged use had high risk of addiction, and in rare cases, one could develop a deeper psychological dependency. It made for an expensive habit. Doses would last less and less, and you’d need more and more to just get the basic effects. Furthermore, Red Eye was firm about not using chems recreationally. It made my expensive habit also a dangerous one.

With my hooves stable, I drew up the gas mask and threw it on. Early under the effect of the drug, my pupils would be overly dilated and would bring unwelcome questions. With the thick red lenses in the way, I’d be less likely spotted. Additionally the parasprite pits were hell for the lungs. I trotted out from the bus shelter, rolling my uniform sleeve down as I returned the tubing to my medical kit. Swallowing hard, I looked down the road before cantering towards the Ministry of Image.

As I made my way closer, the air became choked with thick black smoke. It billowed up from the large caged over pit. Three great chimneys pouring out smoke from them. Along with the smoke came the unbearable heat of incinerators and flamethrowers. All around the heavy grated top of the parasprite pits sat ponies armed with flamethrowers. Underneath I could see the small colorful sprites. They were round and smaller than a foals toy, with a pair of buzzing wings on the back. They whipped around at high speeds. Occasionally the ponies up top would spray gouts of flame into the pit when a swarm of sprites moved too close. At the top of the chimneys a few guards stood on gantries, armed with a few rifles and at least two more flamethrowers, occasionally spewing fire up into the smoke from the chimneys. They all paid me no mind as I made my way past the ramp towards the incinerators. Outside the parasprite pits were the ruins of a small office building, where I met the pony in charge of pest removal.

His name was Mister Shiny. He sat at a desk, with another slaver in combat armor by the door acting as his guard. He smiled pleasantly at my approach, but to say it was warm would be a lie. Shiny and I shared a few similarities, he’d grown numb to the terrors Filly produced. Likewise, he’d also tried at one point to do well with his stocks. Unfortunately, Shiny’s line of work was a lot harder than most. Pest control hadn’t been his primary job, but it was what most of the slaves sent to him would end up doing so most of us came to see it that way. It was often brutal work, and just as often lethal. Parasprites weren’t the only pests. Feral Ghouls, rogue robots, and occasionally a few escapees. Shiny had become a pony who just had a job to do.

“What brings you here, Mister Favor?” He asked, hooves folding on the table.

“Not much, Mister Shiny, just checking in for Stern. How’s the Ministry of Image doing? She’s eager to report to Red Eye that those presses are secured.” I shrugged, the voice box on my mask distorting my voice.

He scanned me over before giving a more genuine smile. “Done. I had a little mare with a pipbuck clear the place out earlier today. She did a bang up job. Hope I can get her again for this place. Might even keep the mad doc from cutting her pipbuck off. She’s pretty useful.”

This was good news for me, but wasn’t the only reason I was here. “Very well, Mister Shiny. That’s good news. I’m sure Stern will be very pleased with this. Red Eye has been keen to get those presses running.” I said, placing a hoof on his desk. “But of course you know I’m here for more than just the presses.”

He raised his eyebrow, before ordering the guard out. Once the guard stepped out, he turned to me with another phony smile. “More painkillers?”

I nodded, drawing a small pouch and tossing it onto the desk. “I’m running low. I know you’ve got some and I know you’re not going to try and screw me for them.” I hated this so much. I didn’t trust half the dealers and traders in the city. Most were quick to sell out anypony they could for a quick deal. Most of the time traders worked with both slaves and slavers. Certain things were outlawed, even for us Slavers and that made room for a black market. Shiny was, for the most part, trustworthy. He didn’t backstab ponies, and tried to be fair. That was the most I could hope for in this city.

He raised a hoof up to the pouch, and opened it. Inside sat just above under two hundred caps. He tipped the pouch and emptied it, counting caps as he went.

“There’s about two hundred Shiny. How many syringes are you gonna offer for that?”

He kept counting. “Assuming it’s all here Favor? I can do at most three syringes. It’s hard to get them in large numbers.” He said, still moving caps around. Three was a bit of a rip off, were I out in the wastes I could probably get five for that amount but, in Filly that’s the best offer I’d get.

“Deal.”

Mister Shiny spent a few more minutes counting before hoofing over three syringes of military grade painkiller. I was careful, opening the small cylinder container on my belt before sliding them inside. “Red Eye should be giving his speech now.” I said casually.

“Yes, I’d heard what the plan was. Two full events in the pit and a day of rest?” His voice betrayed a disinterest, or maybe a disdain. The pit was a hellish creation of maddened slavers and sadists. One of the few ways for a slave to earn their freedom, the Pit was where slaves fought to the death for the entertainment of their masters, and the other slaves. It was a joke, a false hope. You’d have to witness at least thirty-six fights in order to actually win. Each fight consists of two teams of six, fighting until one side has no more combatants. I didn’t blame him for disliking it. I personally didn’t like watching innocent ponies who just fucked up on their duties dying brutally for sport. Yet, I couldn’t deny that there were some good fights occasionally.

“And the Roamer will be open to everypony, slave or slaver alike.” I nodded, “All during a day of rest. A generous gift from our master, don’t you think?”

He looked me over before nodding. “I suppose. Though it’s more of a nightmare for the poor bastards stuck in the Pit.”

“And for those working the Roamer too, I’d think.” I chuckled lightly.

He gave an empty chuckle before shrugging. “I’ll be avoiding the Pit myself. Might enjoy a drink or two, but I plan to spend most of the day enjoying some peace and quiet.”

I nodded a bit, unsure if I’d be avoiding it or not. The rosters would be up tonight, and the fighters numbered. If it was a bunch of raiders and some volunteers, I could probably deal with that. If it was all punishment detail? I’d probably pass.

I parted ways from him after that. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I made my way down the road away from the horrid pits, taking the gas mask off. Night was falling. I had finished all my duties and could fuck off for the night. I didn’t quite want to kick my hooves up just yet. I made my way up one of the nearby intact structures. It was an old office building. Mostly intact but an absolute mess. Scavengers had ruined much of the interior and salvage teams had stripped much of the furniture away. That didn’t matter for my needs though. I made my way up the empty stairwells, all the way to the rooftop.

The old rusty door swung off its hinges from the buck I gave it and I trotted out onto the rooftop. It was a comfortable spot, one I’d used often. It would be nightfall soon, the air was crisper up here. Still thicker than it would be elsewhere from the industry of Filly, but it was still easier to breathe. I found a spot and settled in, looking out over the city. From my little vantage point I could just see over the walls that surrounded Fillydelphia. I loved it. I’d been enjoying the sunsets in Filly for years now. Though the cloud cover never broke, the colours you could see on the horizon were absolutely gorgeous. A glorious orange haze overtaking the gray clouds as the sun started to set behind them. The sky on the horizon becoming a mix of purples and pinks streaming off the orange center. It brought a unique peace to me that nowhere else really could. I ran a hoof through my mane and watched the world come rest. All throughout Filly, shifts were ending and ponies were finally getting to rest. Many of the slaves would have worked all day. The night shift for Slavers would begin soon, well rested and ready for the boring evening ahead of them.

I started my way back towards the other side of Filly. The Roamer bar was actually outside the walls. Stern’s ban on chems extended to a hatred of alcohol. Unlike general chems, she couldn’t ban alcohol. So she just made sure it was very hard to get trashed while on duty. It was a good thing really. Keeping the bar outside the gate also meant all the fun there could escape the looming dread of the ever present walls. I was trotting slowly past the heart of post war Fillydelphia, the FunFarm. It had once been a lavish amusement park with rides and exhibits to bring smiles to all the little ponies of Fillydelphia. Though, in truth it hid a darker past. It was home to the Fillydelphia branch of the Ministry of Morale. The nightmarish big sister that was always watching you and was known for stealing the memories of suspect ponies and using those to lay judgement down upon them. Of course, Red Eye had chosen this for the additional functions the Ministry of Morale had, and the large amusement park offered a number of intact structures that made excellent housing for slaves and slavers alike.

It was here as I was rounding the FunBarn, the largest structure left that had been turned into an administration building for the slavers, that I heard the crack of a sniper rifle from over head. I shot my head up in alarm, catching the view of one of the many hot air balloons that sat floating over the city. Garishly pink and shaped like the grinning head of the Minister of Morale herself, they had been converted into floating gun platforms. The sniper inside had fired downward towards something in the FunFarm. I watched curiously, figuring it was probably an escape attempt. Those balloons provided extra fire support for the griffins that often patrolled the air. The idea being that no pony should be able to escape a literal birds eye view.

Then I heard a staccato of gunfire. A submachine gun? Machine pistol? Hard to tell. I stood watching the balloon sniper overhead. I saw the muzzle flash before the crack ripped through the air again. A second shot? Something was clearly up. I moved my gaze towards where the sniper had shot. I then heard the follow up of shots from a low powered rifle. Couldn’t see who was shooting who though. I started to canter towards the source, mostly curious. Just to be safe I kicked back with a hind hoof, forcing the bit for my battle saddle to pop out and snap into place. This was how I normally used it when not wearing my gas mask.

Out from the Funfarm came a young mare, small with a device on her foreleg. A pipbuck maybe? She was in slave rags. Alongside her floated a rifle while behind her came a griffin. “Shit.” I said, watching slowly. I wasn’t keen to get involved, I was off shift and this would eat into my free time tonight. Another crack from the sniper kicked up dust from where the little mare had been moments ago. I stood silently watching her flee, until I realized where she was headed. She charged rapidly towards the only intact building in the area. The Alpha and Omega Hotel.

The Alpha and Omega had been spared the devastation of the megaspells for the most part and had become an important part of the city. Red Eye had chosen to give the lowest levels to those slaves slated to fight in the Pit. They’d have better beds, better food, access to a bar. The only other place in Filly to get alcohol. Above that though, was the future of Red Eye’s vision. The foals of Fillydelphia. A series of housing units and play units for them, a target range, one level even had an old ballroom that had been converted into a sort of gymnasium and even an entire floor of classrooms. They had the protection of Red Eye’s personal guards. His most devoted followers and loyal acolytes. That included myself.

I turned and bolted into an outright gallop. She fired from the rifle ahead of me. Her shots felling both guards at the entrance to the hotel. I caught a glimpse of her magic, sweeping up their weapons before slamming through inside. I rushed ahead before coming to stop just over the two guards. I brought a hoof up to roll one onto his side. A stallion I’d gotten to know named Loose Leaf. He was a friendly and amicable sort. The other was a mare I hadn’t met. Both were very dead. I took the bit of my saddle into my mouth, clicking the safety off with my tongue. Then, with a deep breath through my nose, I crashed through the doors of the hotel.

There was a veritable throng of ponies inside. Many were drinking merrily, some singing. As I came through they fell silent however. Many just pointed a hoof towards the back while the crowd cleared way. I trotted through them quickly. She was inside the hotel, headed up the stairs apparently. This was certainly not good. While the bottom levels were open to slaves and slavers, the upper levels were completely off limits to all but the most trusted ponies. Most slavers wouldn’t even dare step a hoof up there. I however, bore the honor mark of Red Eye. This was exactly what ponies in my position were made for.

I made my way for the elevators. It was late, but they’d be in their last class of the day. The evening lectures and group sharing. Somepony had to ensure the foals were warned and protected. The old brass doors slid open as I stepped in, pressing the button for the top floor. It was a short elevator ride compared to running up the stairs like a mad fiend. I was met by the beautiful interior of the hotel’s uppermost level. The school. Here foals who had been brought to Fillydelphia had been given a better chance at life than any other generation since the megaspells destroyed all Equestria. Here the young were taught and educated by the best of Red Eye’s elite. Not in combat, not in slavery, no. They were taught maths, sciences, history, philosophy... Art! They were being given the best life anypony could possibly wish for in all the wasteland.

A guard stood outside the elevator on this level. He turned at my arrival, a baton in his magic already before he saw me. “Cherish, what are you doing here?” I knew him. One of Red Eye’s most loyal, like myself. He bore the same armor I did, along with the same honor mark. His name was Redbrick.

I simply raised a hoof. “Raise the alarm, some crazed mare is on a rampage, she shot Loose Leaf and the other door guard. She’s inside and making her way up here.”

With a shout to arms, Redbrick rushed down the hall. There was an emergency stop button on the elevator’s call panel. Cruder than the call buttons, it was clearly added postwar. I gave it a push, preventing anypony else from making their way up here. There were two stairwells. One on the left side of the building, and one on the right. I’d have to cover them. There was another guard on this level, aside from Redbrick. And with the alarm, the children would be given weapons they had trained with to protect themselves.

I rushed down the hallway, past rooms that now held different classrooms. In each one, I heard an older pony instructing the trained ponies to collect an armament from the cupboards and for those who were not trained to get under their desks. Redbrick came back out from a doorway at the end of the hall. “Cherish, go cover the left side stairwell. I’ll cover the right, and Torchwood will cover the hallway in case something happens.

I nodded to him, turning into the furthest classroom on the left side of the building. A group of colts and fillies, some not even old enough to have their cutie marks stood with a few weapons. Mostly low grade soft impact firearms. Nothing overly lethal or heavy. Just enough for them to protect themselves if things fell apart. The teacher, a unicorn mare in a lovely yellow sundress smiled at me as she drew a revolver in her magic.

“Ah! Cherish Favor! What pleasant timing. Are you here to help?” She smiled, as several of the students turned to smile and wave at me with her. They kept their barrels pointed upward, or saddles disengaged. They’d been taught never to point them at anypony they weren’t ready to hurt.

I gave them all a warm smile, “Sorry folks, just got a troublemaker coming up where they shouldn’t be.” I was lying, she’d killed at least two loyal guards without stopping, what the hell would stop her from killing a foal to escape? I swallowed hard at the thought until I noticed the door at the back of the classroom, the emergency exit to the stairwell was open. Then from inside came a voice.

“Hey! She’s up here!” My blood ran cold. I knew that voice, a colt named Cloudy Crest. Not only had I taught these kids about the importance of friendship and working together not but a few days ago but Cloudy was... something of a special case. He was important to me, not just for the future of Filly but he was my responsibility. I had been tasked to protect him and I would let nothing happen to him.

I rushed towards the door. I heard the scuffle of hooves and the sound of a body hitting the floor as I burst through. There I found Cloudy, holding a single-shot shotgun in his telekinetic magic, jumping up and down excitedly. He was a unicorn, small for his age and lacking a cutie mark. His coat was a shale grey, his wavy mane a pale blue. Standing on the stairwell was a midnight blue Alicorn, one of Red Eye’s personal agents from the Goddess herself. A forehoof stepping on the unconscious body of the little mare I’d been chasing. Her weapons having clattered to the ground. A glass glowing orb sat beside her. I let out a sigh of relief and released the bit of my saddle.

The little colt leapt up excitedly, “Hi Cherish! Wow! I didn’t know you were coming today! Look! We caught her! We caught the bad mare!”

I gave him the biggest smile I could, my heart finally able to slow down. “You sure did, Cloudy! Well done, big guy!” I brought a hoof up to pat the foal on his head. As he gleefully welcomed my praise, I turned to face the alicorn as her magic wrapped around the body of the mare and levitated her to her back. She simply nodded, an unspoken order to leave this to her. I wouldn’t dare question it, both because she would be acting on Red Eye’s direct orders, but also because I was a bit terrified of the Alicorns. I’d seen what they could to ponies and how utterly ruthless they could be. That mare surviving was by direct order, for certain.

“C’mon Cloudy, lets go tell the others about how well you did!” I smiled at the colt, turning him with a hoof back toward the classroom. As we passed back into the classroom, I looked back and saw the alicorn start down the stairs. I pulled the door shut and let out a long sigh of relief.

After getting the foals all settled back in from the excitement and basking in Cloudy’s triumph, I received word directly from Red Eye. He wanted an eye he could trust to inspect the damage the Mare’s little escape attempt had wrought. She had managed to steal more of my down time, the wretch. So with an impatient pace I made my way back through the hotel and out the front door. Slavers had come and wrapped the bodies, some were chatting amongst themselves. I looked down as I came out to see the white cloth draped over Loose Leaf. I put a hoof gently on him before passing back towards the FunFarm. According to some of the slavers standing around the hotel, the mare had come through the mirror maze near the bumper car pits in the FunFarm.

I trotted back towards the FunFarm entrance. She’d only managed to kill two guards outside, Loose Leaf and the mare at the hotel but according to some of the slavers, it looked like there might be a lot more. The “Fillydelphia FunFarm Mirror Maze and House of Wacky Reflections” sat largely unused. The interior had been filled with shattered mirrors and was just deemed too much of a bother to deal with. It’s exterior was faded and damaged, large sections had lost their garish paint. The entrance had a large chaingun set in front of it on a tripod. There was a body lying beside it, covered with another cloth. Two slavers were picking up the heavy gun and moving it aside as I approached.

“Oi, prancer. I wouldn’t go in there. It’s a right bloody mess.” One of them said. He was older, dressed in a heavy coat. “Not sure what happened but they got cut up pretty bad.”

I shook my head, “Red Eye ordered I tally the devastation, regardless of my feelings on the matter.” I stepped past them as they moved the gun. The inside had been shredded by a hail of fire. What was the gunner thinking? A chaingun in close quarters? I pushed inward further. First was the grizzly scent. Strong and metallic, I gagged slightly at it. The scent of blood and from how strong it was, a lot of blood. Then the sight I came across left me falling short of words. ‘Cut up pretty bad’ didn’t really cover what I was seeing.

Five bodies, all of them cut to bloody ribbons. Blood was splattered across the walls and mirrors. Shards lay about and embedded into the very dead ponies. Their flesh had been rended, tendons torn and muscles split. What was worse was how far from instantly lethal this had been. It had been slow. They’d have been immobilized from shock and bled to death.

I wretched. What little I had eaten earlier before my shift came back up as I stumbled back. I’d seen ponies shot, I’d shot ponies. I’d seen slavers hurt ponies cruelly. This... was horrific. It was like the room had been turned into some nightmarish blender for ponies.

I pushed further in, trying to escape the scent and sight. Red Eye had ordered me to inspect the damage. What she did here... I had to lean against the wall as it hit. The foals had been a heartbeat away from this kind of massacre. Cloudy had been right in front of her. Could I have stopped her with that kind of power? How could such a little mare be so fucking lethal... I felt a shiver run through me. This mare was fucking evil. This kind of murder was unprecedented short of the work of raiders.

It was a little bit before I continued along. Two more bodies. Two mares I knew quite well. Rivet and Splatter. We’d occasionally play cards together. They had a bit of a thing going with a pair of stallions I knew. Both were dead now. Rivet took a shot directly to her eye. Splatter had bled out from a bad shot to the neck. I grimaced. That brought her kill count up to a staggering nine ponies. I felt my hooves shake, rage or fear I wasn’t sure at the time. I cleared my way into another room, no more gore or signs of violence.

Inside this room was the only unbroken mirror I’d seen here, the ground across from it was largely clear. I took a moment to admire myself in it. I still looked pretty good all things considered. My long mane was a bit messy from all the running and my eyes were both a bit bloodshot. At that point I still had both eyes. I was fortunate though, I wouldn’t have to go back to my apartment before fucking off to the Roamer. I needed a drink badly. I settled down across from the mirror, with my back against a spot clear of glass. For all my vanity, I still needed a breather. Loose Leaf was dead. He’d been a good pony, not quite a friend but a good pony. Rivet and Splatter might not have been great ponies but they had been closer to me than Loose Leaf. Just a bit more selfish than I’d have liked. They had ponies they cared about. They had stallions they loved. Who loved them. They didn’t deserve any of this.

I felt my hooves shaking again. It wasn’t rage or fear. My painkillers had worn off and I could feel the aches creeping back into my body. I repeated my process from before. Slowly drawing out the tubing and a syringe. I rolled my sleeve up and drew the tubing tight. With a vein lined up, I took the syringe in my mouth and slammed it home. The effect was pleasant. Slowly bringing stability back to my hooves. With that handled I leaned back and sighed. Letting the drug catch up to my body. I took one more look at myself in the still intact mirror and sighed at the sight looking back at me. I could see the wear, the ruin. The dirt and damage. I still looked great, for a slaver but I couldn’t ignore the... unpleasant feeling I got as I stared at myself. Laying against the wall with a syringe nearby. What would my family think of me now? What did I think of myself?

I shook it off, as lovely as the painkillers were, they had a nasty habit of letting my mind wander. As soon as they took effect, I pushed my way back to my hooves and started out of the room. I wanted to finish up and get a damn drink. I trotted out of the Mirror Maze and sent a runner off to Red Eye to deliver my report. Nine ponies dead, five brutally so. I stressed to the runner that my recommendation was public execution. Shoot the little mare and be done with it. With the report done, I cantered off to the Roamer. I badly needed a drink and some pleasant company. Anything to get my head clear. I needed a distraction.

The Roamer was a pleasant little bar set outside the walls of Fillydelphia. It was a quaint little building that had been turned into a bustling little saloon, with tacky Hearth's Warming lights strung up outside. The sign flickered lightly, most of the letters for it belonging to different fonts and colours. Inside was a warm atmosphere of dim lights and good music. It was a busy night, tables were packed and ponies sung and drank. A little island of mirth and merriment free from the shackles of work.

It was later in the evening than I’d have wanted it to be by the time I cantered through the door. I had stopped by the armory on the way, having unloaded my saddle and rifle for the night. I made my way to the bar, putting twenty five caps on the counter. If there was one benefit to my job, it was the descent pay. A moment later I had a mug filled with the locally brewed booze the Roamer served. The owner had several stills to produce enough booze to keep the Slavers content and suitably wasted. It wasn’t the strongest stuff, but if you drank enough of it, it did the job.

I looked around and saw lots of familiar faces but none I particularly cared for. I couldn’t see a table or booth that wasn’t occupied and didn’t particularly like the odds of approaching a random table. I was about to settle for drinking alone when I heard a voice say, “Hey little lady!” and I felt a hard slap on my rump. I yelped and spun hard bringing my forehoof up for a firm slap. I had expected a leering slaver pony, poking fun at my well kept appearance. Getting enough water for a bath, that didn’t leave you highly irradiated or worse was a pain and a half. Doing so didn’t earn you respect, but contempt for such a waste. I didn’t care, I made damn sure I had a working water pump and small purifier. It allowed for showers at least.

Instead of the leering slaver however, my hoof missed the griffin standing behind me. He had leaned back sharply as I swung, to avoid it and fell over onto his back. He stared wide eyed at me, before bringing a talon up to his beak to cough. “Oh! You’re a... you’re not a... ah, sorry!”

It was a joke I’d occasionally get when some new slaver thought he’d try and show off. Most of the older Slavers or more experienced ones knew me. They knew there were certain things you didn’t say or do to me. This little reputation had only grown worse as I had come to be known as a short tempered executioner, who shot ponies for imagined slights. I didn’t mind that, helped with the job but it made making friends hard. It’d been a long time since somepony had tried this one and at first I advanced on the griffin. The tables around us fell silent, all eyes falling on us. I might not have had my rifle but I was still an earth pony and could still buck someone fierce.

He brought his talons up defensively, “Ah! No really! I’m sorry!” He was younger for a Talon, early twenties at most. “I uh, was just uh, you looked lost. Didn’t mean uh-”

The frustration and anger bubbled away as I slowly realized, he really had mistaken me for a mare. I brought a hoof up to slap across my own muzzle, before the tables around us erupted in laughter.

With a sigh, I leaned down and stuck my hoof back out. “It’s alright, let's get you up Birdy.” I was admittedly a bit embarrassed. I didn’t like having the spot light for things like that. Being the center of attention because I’m pink? Because some clumsy bird mistook me for a mare? It was a bit humiliating but at least it was an honest mistake on his part.

He took my hoof with his talons and stood up. “Aha, seriously. Sorry. Let me buy you a drink. Sort of an apology and an ice breaker, yeah?”

I looked up at him, a bit incredulous. “... Seriously?”

“Yeah! Seriously! I’m sorta... new to Filly. This place is a bit uh, imposing, and I figured I’d get to know some of the folks here at this lovely little tavern!” He smiled a bit as he said it. It was an earnest smile, warm and surprisingly friendly.

I took a few seconds to look around. I didn’t have anyone else here, and I’d really like to avoid being in the spotlight again. I took a sip of my drink, having never let it go. “Alright, big guy. Let's go get a table.”

We settled into a corner table near the old jukebox at the back of the room. He had me sit down, insisting he go get the drinks after all that. I was expecting him to come back with more of the same as in my mug. Instead, he came back with a bottle and two shot glasses, as well as a mug of beer for himself. “Alrighty, I got something a little harder and more expensive to make up for that ah, little mistake.” He chuckled lightly, a soft accent that I couldn’t quite place.

He was... handsome for a griffin. I wasn’t usually the type to eye them up. Beaks didn’t look fun to work with, and I imagined they got feathers everywhere. Yet there I was. His neck and head were both covered in elegant white feathers and down. He had a few long ones worn forward as if to style them into a mane. Off the back of his head was a ponytail of them. I appreciated the effort, it looked very good on him. His eyes were this piercing blue catching light, even in the dim corner. I was always a sucker for blue eyes. His claws and beak were both black. His wings and bottom half both soft earthy brown. He wore the standard talon armor. Black combat plating with the Talon logo painted on the breast and a bodysuit underneath similar to the one I wore. I shook my head after I caught his eyes meeting mine, “It’s all good, uh, my name is Favor.” I said, bringing a hoof.

He shook it in both talons, sitting down. He was larger than me by a bit, but hardly the imposing sight most of the talons struck. “Nice to meet you Favor, my name’s Royal.”

“Royal, huh?” He did look it. Less fearsome merc, more noble griffin. “Nice to meet you.” I smiled before I caught his eyes again meeting mine. It was a nice change, most ponies in Filly either stare you down as a power thing or try to avoid meeting eyes in case they offend you.

He smiled warmly, putting the two shot glasses down. Then poured us both a shot, sliding mine over to me. “Let’s have a drink, shall we? On three?”

I laughed, brought my hoof to the shot and lifted up in a singular motion before saying, “Three.” Pouring the burning liquid down my throat, with a slight shiver. Vodka. It was a good brand too. “Keep em coming, Royal. I’ve had a shit day.”

He quickly drank his own, giving a slight cough before pouring another pair. “Ah? Wanna tell me about it?”

I put my hoof to my chin and thought for a moment. I’d just met him but honestly, who else was I going to chat with? Because of the report, I’d missed catching the ponies I usually drank with and I couldn’t see them here. So I nodded, taking the next shot.

We both raised them up this time and almost in unison, we both said, “Three!” before downing them together. With that I started to tell him about my day. The mediocre morning and then dealing with Whisper. He seemed amused as I went on about her insults, for probably longer than it warranted. He asked about Jester, Whisper’s replacement. I had to shrug for the most part. She seemed smart but I had only just met her. I might wander down there to give her some pointers. I rambled at some length about Glass as we downed another pair of shots. How she was a good overseer, if not a good person. He asked about the ponies I used to own and I spent a great deal of time talking about them. He was probably the first person I’d met to actually show an interest in the ponies themselves, not just my dedication to learning who they were. That definitely earned him some bonus points with me. We drank some more as I moved onto Mr. Shiny. I avoided my mentioning the painkillers. He listened intently as I rambled about Shiny’s... apathy. Then I got to the chase and the foals. He followed along excitedly, adding some more details he’d heard from ponies drinking. Apparently Red Eye was going to put the little mare in the Pit. I wasn’t exactly pleased but I figured it might as well be a death sentence.

The rest of the night is a bit hazy. We both talked about our plans for the day of rest, which were pretty similar. We drank late into the evening, eventually joining into the merriment of the crowd. Royal had this... natural charm that just let him blend into a crowd. After a while we joined a larger table to polish off the last of large bottle before he surprised everyone, including myself by pulling out a second bottle. He helped disarm a lot of tension, and by the end of the night we’d been to every table in the Roamer, singing and drinking the whole way.

Eventually, the Roamer kicked us out after last call. We managed to stumble our way back into Filly. He wasn’t exactly in any condition to wander and he wasn’t sure which building he was supposed to go to, to be honest neither was I. So instead of trying to find some place to dump him off, we just traveled back to my small apartment. Singing and causing a general ruckus for the ponies on the night shift all the way.

The courtroom was quiet as Cherish Favor finished the first part of the confession. Righteous Creed nodded to him. “Is that all you’d like to say for today, Cherish Favor?”

The pink stallion looked around the courtroom, eyes meeting with the mare wearing the ribbons. “For today, yes.” She smiled a bit, holding his gaze before Creed spoke again.

“Very well. Marshals Charity and Bronze Star, you may escort him back to his cell.” He gestured to Cherish as he spoke.

Charity rose to her hooves, taking her hat and putting it on while Bronze Star stood up to trot over to the chain. Unlocking it carefully while eyeing Cherish the whole time. Both trotted to either side of him, Bronze wrapping the chain attached to Cherish’ collar around his foreleg. The two began to lead him out of the courtroom. Charity, turned to him as they went.

“Why start here? Why... that day? Seems like you just confessed to a lot of crimes, that’s going to impact your sentencing.” There was a note of concern in her voice.

Cherish simply met her eyes, a weary look on his face. “Because this is where it started Marshal. This was the last day I was truly a slaver in Fillydelphia.”

With that, he turned his head back forwards as the Marshals escorted him out of the room.

Karma Level: -700 "Train Yard Terror"
Faction Reputation:
Red Eye's Devoted: Idolized
Slavers of Filly: Smiling Troublemaker