Appleloosa (Reign of “The Wranglers”)

November 29th, 2018

4:12 P.M.

Twenty-one years ago

Winter.

If the elements of the planet were corporeal beings, this season would be the nastiest of the four. Winter would have jaws lined with razors, a piercing gaze looking to consume anything unfortunate enough to wander into its den, and claws serrated to prevent said unfortunate prey from any chance of escape. Sure, it was maybe three or four months out of the year, but the predator’s size wasn’t a concern when compared to its speed and lethality. No one could run from a hunter that covered everything, searched every corner, every crevice of sanctuary and warmth.

For a seventeen year old Storm Surge, the only factor keeping his body from freezing was the adrenalized blood rushing through it. His mane had been shaved months ago, giving the cold easy access to nip at his head. However, his mane had steadily been growing back into a short style, almost concealing the “w” carved just underneath his ear. Inside the single letter, an even smaller inscription of the number, seven three rested just above the “w.” Additionally, his recent injuries provided a brief, stinging warmth. His coat was covered in dark bruises, scratch marks, and his nostrils dripped blood onto the sand below. Despite the crimson trail seeking refuge on his lips, Storm refused to wipe it off and ruin his mobility advantage over his clearly worn out opponent.

Across from the soon-to-be-stallion was another colt, probably the same age or slightly older, the exact number didn’t matter to Storm. Only one thing did; winning. The other colt’s coat was a dull black, making his own injuries impossible to make out as the two circled one another, silently daring the other to strike. The black colt was an Earth Pony, which would have only been possible to tell by his lack of shackled horn or tied wings like some of the crowd surrounding the two sported.

“FUCK HIM UP!” An older stallion roared from the sidelines. He was balanced lazily with the stock of his rifle dug into the sand, leaning in closer to get a better view of the action.

“AIM FOR THE MUZZLE! KNOCK SOME TEETH OUT!” Another shouted from behind Storm, who heard the violent requests, but managed to ignore them. He had to focus on his opponent - a mistake which he had learned to avoid way back when he joined this “division” as they had called it. Everypony had a choice for these jobs in the Wrangler’s “new society,” but Storm knew that was just a scented candle in a condemned restroom stall.

The rest of the crowd beyond more suited and armed ponies were ghostly silent. They watched from distances further back than the armed ones, lowering their heads or glancing away in shame whenever they felt their eyes lock with Storm’s or the dark colt’s own. These onlookers had become dotted blurs to the gray pegasus, who only had two colors in his sight. The first was the colt, no doubt. The second, a painted line of red dirt, which was dug into a circle around the two.

With a determined warcry, the earth pony charged forward, attempting to barrel into Storm, who sidestepped the attack before delivering a swift hoof to his face. The dark colt caught the second hoof before sending his own at Storm’s face, only to have it blocked in tandem. Now both males were locked in a stance reared up on their hindlegs as they attempted to overpower one another.

Storm felt razors digging into his neck as the colt had bit down, the sudden pain sending him into the sand on his back. Immediately, the gray pegasus knew his head was halfway out of the circle as a wave of sizzling magic began to circle it. If his body was pushed any further out, he knew what would happen.

Mustering everything he had, Storm threw the dark colt off of his frame with his hindlegs, sending the colt over the circle entirely. Wasting no time, Storm rolled back into the arena and stopped. His gaze landed on the blizzard reigning above the town’s barriers as he heard cheering all around him. A few gripes about losing a bet here, some “I told you so’s” there, but the most prominent response to the fight’s end was what Storm heard above all else.

Silence.

The lack of sound from the other onlookers. The ones like him. The ones who feared what was coming. Storm attempted to bury his ears against his head, but could hear the dark colt’s pleading nevertheless. An intense shocking sound broke through the silence, followed by the colt’s feral scream that died as quickly as it left his mouth.

“That’s a wrap, folks!” A charismatic male voice announced. “Today’s tournament has a winner!” Storm felt someone yank him to a standing position. A thin unicorn stallion wearing lidded white shades and a torn leather jacket wrapped a friendly foreleg around the adolescent pegasus. “I’ve got to say, that was the most entertainment any of us had seen all week! It’s always a privilege when you enter The Pit, Seventy-three!”

Storm didn’t acknowledge the amauater announcer or his designated title. Instead his stare remained fixed upon the charred, twitching body of the dark colt, who was surrounded by a sobbing mare and a filly, presumably his mother and sister. Maybe a spouse and daughter…

“Where is it?” Storm asked in a hushed growl, refusing to look at the repulsive sports-colt. The announcer spouted off some quip about the victorious colt being down to business before brandishing a gunk-covered tin can. Without a word further, Storm lifted the can in his hooves, but paused when a realization hit him.

“They’re lighter than last time.” He observed aloud, prompting a crackle from the announcer stallion. As soon as the words left his lips, Storm felt a wave of uneasiness surge through his veins. He prayed to Celestia his tone wasn’t disrespectful or unappreciative. Thankfully, the stallion looked to be in a good mood otherwise a strike would have already come Storm’s way.

“Course they are!” The stallion grabbed the can from the colt’s hooves to shake it audibly. “You can’t expect the same entertainment in the same rounds to keep producing half a can! Repetition is boredom to our viewers after all! You want a more prestigious prize? Sign up for the higher rounds, champ!”

With that, the announcer playfully threw the can into Storm’s grasp before patting him on the back and leaving to mingle with his armed buddies. The pegasus colt eyed the can, before opening the lid to be greeted by five apple slices. With a sigh, he closed the lid as his stomach rumbled from the mere sight of food alone.

“Holy shit, kid!” A rough feminine voice gasped, prompting Storm to flinch and nearly drop the can. Storm turned to see an ash gray unicorn mare limping towards him. Her mane was messy, coat was sticky with streaks, and the injuries in her back half made it clear where she had just come from. Before he could react, she wrapped both hooves around him in a loving embrace. Storm fidgeted as each moment in the hug angered his bruises, however he endured for her sake. “You scared the Tartarus out of us! Where were you-”

She saw the bruises. Then the sizzling body just a few steps away. Horror flashed across Leadwall’s face as her apatie eyes looked from the corpse to the colt before her. “You were… the Pit…That’s why Maverick kept stalling...”

“I wasn’t trying to make you guys worry,” Storm explained, rubbing at the dried blood trail under his nostrils. “I couldn’t risk any distractions this late into the rounds. Hearing any of your voices could have made me slip up.”

The unicorn’s expression hardened. “Distractions?” She recoiled. “Distractions, that’s rich. It’s fucking great to know that after everything, the act of running into to save you from a meaningless death is considered a distraction in your book, kid!”

“You know what I mean.” Storm retorted coldly before slamming the can into her chest. “Here, should be enough for you and Maverick to eat tonight. Thanks for the lecture.”

Leadwall was forced to grab the can as the gray pegasus began walking away towards the town square. “Hey! We’re not done!” She placed herself in between him and the rest of the town, scanning the area to ensure their bickering hadn’t caught any attention. “You’re barely a stallion, Storm. No seventeen-year old colt should have to feed his grandparents or his best friend and his mother! Least of all, beat others in the same boat as you to obtain the food! We might be governed by animals, but we won’t become animals! We’ve got plenty of food to survive. Forge isn’t risking his neck for those bastards on scavenging runs and I’m not letting them violate me just so you can get yourself killed and leave my son alone in this shithole!”

“We won’t survive this winter!” Storm hissed back. “It was bad enough before these guys, now we’ve got the bare minimum to avoid starvation and they’ve hoarded all the blankets and clothing for themselves! Rye barely made it through last winter! Last winter with our freedom and equipment! The colt lurked dangerously close to Lead’s face. “I can’t… I won’t make the same mistake twice… Rye will survive. You will, Maverick, Forge, Ivory - you’ll all make it through this season! I’ll give these assholes what they want. I’ll take on the most desperate in the Pit if it guarantees you all survive!”

“Don’t be an idiot! Half of these guys in the upper rounds are twice your size and weight! I know the Wranglers even jump into those rounds when they feel like keeping the prizes for themselves! You think you can take on even a single well-fed, fully grown stallion? You’re one month away from skin and bones, Storm! We all are! Celestia-dammit, kid, It’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed-” The realization slammed into her ashen face like a freight train.

“It’d be one less mouth to feed for you all.”

Leadwall froze. The only sign of movement from the mare’s body was the lightly flowing stream of tears. In a flash, she pulled the flinching colt in close before gently forcing him to look into her teary eyes. “Don’t… don’t you ever say anything that fucking stupid ever again! You aren’t just one extra mouth to feed! Not to your grandparents, not to Maverick, and fucking especially not to me!”

Storm didn’t respond as the elder mare poured her soul out. He tried to avert his own eyes to check if anypony had noticed, but he couldn’t look away. Something about the spark in Leadwall’s eyes ignited something buried deep inside. It was only when he remembered who had a similar look in a conversation about his worth to the family, that Storm felt a warm trail begin to crawl down his eyes to his muzzle.

“Do you have any idea how many nights I fought with putting Maverick up for adoption?” Leadwall choked, her shaky voice barely keeping it’s head above water. “He didn’t deserve to be forced into that worthless lifestyle I brought us! Some nameless one night stand for a father, a fucking high school dropout for a mother, nopony deserves to be born into that! I had two jobs and did the same fucking thing I do now with my body just so he could eat some frozen dinner each night! I physically gave up on him like I did with everything, but one thing changed all that! It was you, Storm! You came into our lives when I was at my end!

“Stop-” The colt began only to be cut off instantly.

“You can’t just turn your feelings off, kid! Believe me, I tried after high school! What else are you supposed to do after a teenage pregnancy and disownment from your own fucking parents?! You don’t become a hollow shell! You become a vacuum! A vacuum that drains everypony around you that you care about! I drained my son! You’re draining us all and I know you don’t mean it! Something happened in your foalhood, I know it did, you can’t hide raw meat from a starving dog, Storm. Every night Maverick begged to let you stay over, I could see the pleading in your eyes. There was something… horrible at home you couldn’t face. I didn’t know it at the time, but you weren’t just saving my son from me, but I was saving you from whatever hurt you! And I won’t stop doing just that, no matter what! Slavers or monsters, you and Maverick are my world! So don’t you ever fucking say that about yourself ever again, understand?!”

Storm couldn’t look at her anymore. He had lowered his head long before her statement was through. Both ponies sat in silence before the colt showed initiative. He weakly buried his muzzle into the crook of Lead’s neck, returning the embrace in full with the addition of his hooves around her back. She reek of degeneracy, but he didn’t care. In all likelihood, his nose had probably been broken from one of the countless rounds prior.

The silence continued for a moment before Leadwall heard a muffled voice coming from her neck. “I’ll… I’ll join Maverick in the orchard tomorrow. I promise.”

Soon, the colt and mare went their separate ways before their captors caught a whiff of happiness that couldn’t be capitalized on. Leadwall went towards the isolated apple orchard to find her son while Storm settled down in the town’s pony pile. He wasn’t the only one there either. A few other townsfolk had returned from doing their “jobs” for the day, where they laid down alone or with family to escape the nightmare with sleep’s embrace.

But sleep never came easy, and it wasn’t just for his own reasonings. There were disturbances all around. Noise all around. Muffled feminine whimpering came from nearby where a young mare with bruises and scratches around her muzzle and flanks. She was attempting to disappear into the embrace of a stallion, who could have been a father, brother, husband - whatever he was, it was the only thing keeping her cracked parts from shattering. The collective mourning of a family that had lost somepony to the Pit or the supply runs the night prior. Others cried for reasons Storm couldn’t fathom, but understood nevertheless.

Taking a deep breath through his sore chest, the colt squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the worst. Whether it be in his dreams or in tomorrow’s wake.

“Get up!” A gruff voice boomed as Storm felt something massive slam into his ribs.

A mountain of dark brown fur greeted Storm’s sleep-crusted vision. Though groggy and his sight hazing from the impact to his side, he knew who the hulking blur standing over him was. Storm shot up to a standing position, resembling a newborn foal’s first attempt at walking, as his limbs had not shaken off the cobwebs of sleep.

After blinking a few times, he could make out the colossal buffalo surrounded by two fully armored stallions. The buffalo’s beedy eyes held a sense of ordered malice towards the colt, causing Storm to divert his gaze away from the other’s eyes. Instead he focused on the war painted anvil symbol on the nose and jaw. The fur around his nostrils constantly shifted as if the behemoth was in a state of discontentment at everything, yet his body was stiff and calm.

“Patriarch will see you now.” He snorted before slowly wheeling himself around to walk in the direction of the town saloon. The guards didn’t even glance at Storm as they turned their backs to him, waiting for the colt to walk in front of them, effectively pincering him between a wall of muscle and their firepower.

Without a word further, Storm was led across the pitch black town square. The buffalo’s steps roused many from their slumber, forcing them to quickly gather their families and friends to move before his straight path stamped across where they had just been. Most of the townsfolk cowered as the anvil-like male strode past, however, a few that were curious - or rather stupid - enough looked on to see Storm in the middle.

Those who weren’t trying to disappear into the sand or embrace a loved one gave the pegasus sympathetic looks until one of the two machine gunners made them lie back down. Eventually, Storm locked eyes with Ivory, who silently gasped in horror upon realizing what was going on. Ivory tried to stand when a barrel pressed firmly against her cheek kept her at bay. Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something to Storm, but the guard shouted at her to lay back down. She did. They moved on.

Storm found that his body had begun to shake slightly. His mind or physique hadn’t been awake enough to comprehend what all this meant, but now he was firing on all cylinders. Every cracked, whistling, rusted cylinder in his mind told him this was it. He knew why everypony had given him the look like he had just been diagnosed with cancer. In a sense, he had. Cancer was a death sentence now, but so was this. Not many saw Patriarch ever since the fall, but everypony knew that his right hoof meant his involvement wasn’t far off. A puppeteer playing for beasts never put his hands close to the crowd, instead allowing the steel crossbar above the puppet to be within reach of the jaws.

They arrived at a building with a rotted sign reading “Saloon.” Piles of random junk littered the entrance to the structure, most of which didn’t belong to the saloon. Various couches, chairs, and mattresses with tears and stains just piled outside and collecting sand just yards from freezing families. Broken glass from discarded photos, bar mugs and the now boarded windows, which hindered any attempt to gaze behind the curtain of the saloon’s interior. Two more armed stallions were posted lazily in recliners on opposite sides of the saloon doors - which had been replaced with full sized wooden ones - both of which were smoking cigarettes and making explicit comments about their shore leave in the racks.

Both stallions went silent the second they saw the buffalo, who stopped in front of the door without more than an irritated snort. One of the guards wrapped on the door three times before a voice on the other side came through.

“What is it?”

“Anvil Block found the kid.”

The brief conversation gave birth to an even shorter-lived silence before the metalicing clanging of locks and latches on the door cut it. On the other side was another guard stallion, who opened the door in time to avoid being stepped on by the brute, Anvil Block, with his company in tow. Upon the entry of the last two guards, the door was latched back.

All eyes landed on Storm, who found his limbs to be iced over in an instant. Everypony was here. Forge Beryl, Rye Blossom - his grandparents, Leadwall and Maverick all stood in the middle of the room with petrified stares his way. Anvil Block calmly stomped his way over to the bar counter before plopping his huge form down next to the cooking equipment. The guard duo parked themselves directly behind the line of five townsfolk.

Nopony said a word. Everyone with the exception of the buffalo looked straight ahead at the bar counter, where a unicorn stallion laid casually across it with a hoof holding his face up, yet his eyes were down at the chessboard on one of the bar stools. His face held a mixture of relaxation and fiery concentration, aided by his maroon coat and softer green mane. His cutie mark was covered by a cloth wrap with a scrawled “w” on it. Right next to his flank, strapped on by leather was a polished six-piece revolver. Sitting directly below him on the floor was a young mare wearing one of the saloon’s old errotic waitress outfits. She moved a shaky hoof to one of the pieces on her side of the board as the stallion’s brow rose in anticipation.

The mare moved her last piece only to have it instantly swatted by one of his. The stallion sighed before levitating a piece of chalk towards a board and marking another win on his side, which was practically all white at this point. The other side of the board had no name or tally marks for victories. He produced a book from behind the counter labeled “The Secrets to Chess” for the mare to see.

“Now, I understand you can’t read, but that ain’t the point.” The Patriarch said in a fatherly tone. “This is. You see, I grew up much like yourself in an environment where smarter ponies made the decisions for us. I, and many others, did the little things to keep our community running. Somepony has to shovel filth out of the rack stalls, somepony has to plant and make the food, somepony has to provide sexual relief to the scavengers and soldiers, yada yada, and such.”

Storm and his grandfather exchanged silent, but curious glances as the stallion monologued to the young girl. Neither one of them knew why they were here, that was the only nonverbal conclusion they could make. Storm turned to look at the others. Rye had suddenly stopped herself from sinking into her husband’s side in an attempt to hide from whatever was to come. Storm knew why. He immediately washed his face of any emotion, plastering indifference above all else as he examined the rest. Leadwall was doing the same, except he could visibly make out the beads of sweat on her dark ash coat. Maverick was a mess, his hooves shook and his lip quivered slightly. He had to lean against his mother just to avoid collapsing into the floor.

“You and everypony else are a part of something bigger!” Patriarch extended a hoof, which the mare stared at for a moment before reluctantly accepting it. She was pulled up into the stool beside the chessboard. “What do you think I’ve been trying to nail into everypony’s heads for the past four months? To work is to survive and to exceed is to prosper! I worked, I was fed and clothed during winter. I exceeded their expectations and you know what I got? This book before you! Of course, I couldn’t read neither, but one of the breeders agreed to teach me in between customers as long as I shared some of my rations with her foal! Well, her pre-service foal. She had a lot more after him… anyhoo, I was rewarded for my work around the community! I seized the opportunity and got more out of life - while living in the safety of my community, mind you - because of my drive!”

The mare didn’t respond. Her shrunken pupils remained on the jaded book cover, refusing to meet the stallion’s own. “This book could be yours! Reading lessons included! Anything in the prize pile right outside could be yours too! Well, anything except Tethertechs, horn suppressor removal, weapons, or radios, of course. Hey, you work in the racks, right?” Patriarch put a hoof under her chin. “I know that kind of intimate work isn’t for everypony, but it has to be done to survive, right? See, life is just like this game of chess here. If you can’t read the rules, then you are swatted at every turn, which means death by the way. If you understand the game and how to play each piece correctly, you’ll not just survive but also prosper! You might not know it, but you are intelligently playing the game right now! Choosing to stay with us and work instead of eating everypony else outside these walls like dogs. Speaking of dogs...”

Patriarch finally acknowledged the ponies in the center of the room. He looked back to the mare one last time, shooting off a side comment about the lesson she was about to witness, before looking at each pony before him. He threw the book behind the counter, only to have his magic aura return with a Tethertech. Opening a holographic box, he scrolled through menus lazily before stopping at one section.

///TRANSMISSION HISTORY///

Tossing the earpiece on the chessboard, Patriarch eyed the group with a neutral expression on his face. As the video recording loaded, he took a prolonged sip of cider, only putting the mug down as a distorted female voice came through.

“If anyone gets this message, we need help at Appleloosa! Slavers snuck in, gained our trust, and overthrew the law! Sheriff Silverstar is dead, half of the town’s old leaders are too. There are about thirty of them, but all are heavily armed and armored! Please send someone, anyone, a whole town! There are foals, fillies, and colts starving and freezing to death! Nopony here deserves to live under these conditions!”

///TRANSMISSION END///

The Patriarch sighed, clicking the device off. The room was dead silent. Nopony dared to speak or move. They all heard the voice. Leadwall’s voice - on the transmission. Storm finally found the strength to turn his head, seeing Lead’s frozen face, the question of how they had found her call plastered on the horrified expression.

“The Salvus community picked this up two days ago.” Patriarch explained as if on cue. “They sent it back to my own device personally. So naturally, my old mentors and current business partners came through. Another thing, you really threw me through a loop, lady. I had to quiz every single one of my men who had the night off in the racks to find out who lost their earpiece temporarily. One of them finally fessed up, telling me he got distracted by how “touchy” one of the girls had gotten with him. Now here we are...”

“What did you expect?!” Leadwall suddenly cried, sending a shockwave of collective flinching to everypony around her. “We’ve put up with this abuse for far too long! This isn’t a business no matter how you twist definitions! It’s fucking slavery-”

“Woah, woah!” Patriarch interrupted, nearly knocking his chessboard at the mention of the latter word. “You know, I know, and everypony in this room - and town for that matter - knows we don’t use that false term! We all agreed to it on the day this partnership began, remember?”

The ashen mare gulped before attempting to regain her composure. “Yeah, I remember your lieutenants dragging bodies to a burn pile while you stood over everyone making a demand list! I remember our “partnership” beginning with you stripping us of our clothes, our belongings, and our Celestia-damned identities! And I’ll never forget it with day after day of “letting” your filthy brutes fuck me or having to watch everypony I love starve and freeze to death in this fake capitalist prison!” Unknowingly at first, Leadwall had taken a step forward despite the presence of the guards behind them.

“Mom! Please stop!” Maverick had found a sliver of courage to move, grabbing her foreleg in an attempt to tug her back into place.

Faint droplets of water formed in Leadwall’s eyes as she looked at her son with a loving smile. “No, I’ve done nothing but stand by while you were forced to find your way through life. I was playing catchup with my own mistakes when I should have been there for you, Maverick. Well… I’m done catching up. It’s time to be a mother for once…” She gave the violet stallion a tender kiss on the top of his muzzle before turning back to Patriarch. “I know why we’re all here now. Go ahead. Execute me to prove your point. Mine has already been proven.”

Patriarch raised a brow at this. “Firstly, executing you in front of your son and friends isn’t the point of this meeting. I’ll get to that later, but I am extremely curious what point you are trying to make? Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that I did have one of these gentlemen cut ties with your life. All that would do is create a mess on the floor and hinder your traumatized son’s performance in the orchard.”

“The point is that we will stand up to you. If a failure like me can do it, who knows how many more will! Who knows how many already have?! Unless their methods were intercepted by your slaver pen pals, there could be help on the way right now! Even in our or your ranks just like how you took down this town!”

“That is exactly why I am not going to kill you.” Patriarch replied before casually whistling to Anvil Block, who grunted in acknowledgement before getting up.

The buffalo stamped it’s way to a pile of furniture and clutter in the room’s corner, grabbing a foldout table and two empty crates before kicking them to the room’s center. Anvil began walking back to his station as Patriarch tossed a hoof-full of apple slices into his mouth.

“See? Effort and progress equals reward. That is how this society thrives. No conflict of interests, no bickering, no backstabbing their benefactors with phone calls to another community for unnecessary help! Now, down to it. You two kids, take a seat.” He pointed towards Storm and Maverick.

Unnerved confusion replaced the determination in Leadwall’s face in an instant. “What the hell?! I did it! What does this have to do with th-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Patriarch playfully interrupted, sliding off of the counter to approach the makeshift table setup. “Come on boys, don’t be shy! The winner gets a reward after all!”

Storm Surge stepped forward without a word or second glance at his family. He couldn’t bear to know what expressions they were wearing, so he looked forward to Patriarch's gritty smile. The older stallion patted one of the crates, which the grey colt reluctantly and carefully slid onto. It was awkward and unstable, forcing Storm to put his forehooves on the table just to stay up. Maverick wasn’t too eager to approach, but he shakily forced his limbs to obey.

“Please, sir, just… Please don’t hurt her!” The violet pegasus pleaded as he sat down across from Storm.

Patriarch put a firm hoof on Maverick’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about her, son. I ain’t gonna harm a hair on her mane. Gentleman’s honor.” The stallion began pulling the revolver from his hip, causing the crowd’s eyes to widen and their breathing to hitch in their throats.

The weapon was custom made. Faded silver with golden engravings of talon-like curls around the barrel and cylinder. It was clearly griffon-manufactured, but the trigger guard for a claw was removed entirely and a Tethertech link had been built into the handle. Patriarch opened the cylinder, shook the revolver lightly as all six brass bullets fell onto the table. Then, scooped up all rounds except for a single one, placing them on the counter behind him. He loaded the round into the cylinder and gave it a good spin, slamming the cylinder back into the weapon before anypony could see which hole the round stopped in.

Patriarch placed the revolver onto the table in between the colts. As if all the pieces had clicked, Forge, Rye, and Leadwall practically rushed forward on instinct, only to be stopped at gunpoint by the guards at their sides. Patriarch wiped the frown off of his face before clearing his throat.

“When an employee with a poor performance record drags the company down, you used to fire them in the old, savage world.” He explained, looking Leadwall dead in the eyes. “Sure, that saved the current company, but then the employee finds a new job and ruin’s a new company’s operation. The employee doesn’t care about the original company’s success as long as they get food on the table, meaning firing the employee responsible does nothing. So what does a smart, civilized, employer do? Simple, cut off the food supply so my employee listens to policy and follows the company’s goals! When they remember what privilege was taken from them, they’ll listen. Then you’ll listen, Leadwall.”

“YOU'RE NOT GOING TO TOUCH HIM!” She shrieked, leaping forward, only to be intercepted by one of the guards that held her back. “KILL ME! KILL ME! PLEASE! DON’T HURT HIM!”

Patriarch silently watched as the mare held down to the floor sobbed her guts out. He mentally drowned her out to return to the colts, one of which was shaking with tears in his red eyes while the other was oddly calm. With a hint of curiosity, Patriarch arrived at the gray colt’s side, noticing his distant stare - which had been directed at the kitchen counter - was down at the weapon on the table.

“I know what you’re thinking, son. Grab that gun, take your one in six chance and point it at me. Pull the trigger and hope the odds are in your favor, correct?”

Storm didn’t respond or acknowledge the stallion. He was so still, even Patriarch couldn’t see his chest rising from breathing despite his close proximity.

“Go ahead then. If you do get lucky, let's just say I’ve got a plan for that. Even if you do catch me off guard, you’ve got one hunk of muscle and two machine gun-wielding stallions ready to dish out a worse punishment than this. Just follow the rules and you get to go back to bed before another productive day! Well, you might…”

“Please! You can’t do this!” Rye Blossom choked, her voice barely piercing Leadwall’s begging. “Have one of us do this instead! Forge and I will take their places so you still get to teach the lesson! Just please don’t-”

Patriarch’s raised hoof cut the elder mare off instantly. A twitch of irritation formed on his face before the professionalism kicked in to mask it. “Now here is what is going to happen. Your boys are going to make a choice. I spin the revolver, whoever it lands on goes first. That player gets the choice to either point it at the other or at their own heads. Then they pull the trigger. Assuming nothing happens, that player passes it to the next and we repeat until the lesson is learned. Then after that, Leadwall, you’ll have to prove to me you value our work here. You don’t get your rations - or your boys, assuming his brains don’t go splat - until you’ve pleased every stallion in my defense force. Every. Single. Night. Understood, everypony?”

No one responded beyond the guards and Anvil Block. Even the fishnet wearing mare at the counter just shrunk behind the stool silently, peeking over it ever so slightly. Leadwall, however, continued to thrash and scream.

“I”LL FUCKING GUT YOU! I”LL SLICE YOUR COCK OFF AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT!”

Patriarch’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Woah, talk about being unprofessional. Sure these boys are almost stallions now, but damn, lady. Whichever one walks away from this will surely have a new catchphrase in the Pit thanks to you.” His horn glowed a bright yellow, which formed a stretched rectangle that clamped over Leadwall’s mouth, silencing her entirely.

“Let’s begin. We’ll get this little team building exercise over with to start fresh tomorrow!”

With an energetic punch of his hoof, Patriarch spun the revolver in place. Half of the room watched in horror as the gun slowly lost momentum, eventually stopping with the barrel pointed at Storm.

“You’re up, champion!” Patriarch hooted, thrusting the weapon into the colt’s hooves. “Remember, no looking into the chamber, detaching the cylinder, and you can only shoot Maverick or yourself. Well, techincally speaking, you could shoot me, but we don’t need two major fuck ups tonight now do we?”

Storm clumsily grabbed the revolver with his hoof, curling his fetlock around it in preparation to squeeze the unguarded trigger when the time came. Without further hesitation, he placed the barrel against his temple. The pleading cries from his grandparents were enough of a shot to the brain, but he persisted while looking Patriarch directly in the eyes.

“You better hope this kills me.”

Patriarch’s grin faltered for a second. Storm’s unblinking eyes caught it with certainty. Time froze as he squeezed the trigger. The cries of everypony were distorted, almost like they had been placed in a slow-motion audio filter.

CLICK!

Nothing happened. The cylinder spun to the next slot. Storm could feel the faintest traces of tears trying to force their way out of his eyelids. It felt like an eternity since he last breathed or blinked, but he let out air as subtly as possible to not break contact with the stallion beside him.

“Damn! Now that’s a kid with some hangars on him!” One of the guards next to Forge and Rye commented.

“Now you.” Patriarch took the gun from Storm, holding it out to Maverick, who just stared at the sidearm with trembling pupils. “C’mon, it’s your turn, Maverick.”

Leadwall couldn’t watch. She squeezed her teary eyes shut, folded her ears down as if it would block out the inevitable gunshot sound. Maverick finally grabbed the revolver. He looked to Storm, his eyes pleading for answers, but all he received was indifference.

“You can do it.” Storm finally spoke for the second time. “Point it at me.”

“What?! No, man, I can’t-”

“Fucking do it, Mav!” Storm growled, leaning forward to give a point blank shot. “Only one of us is getting out of here alive, might as well not let these mind games break the rest of us!”

The violet colt’s limbs were jelly as he forced the revolver to be pointed in his best friend’s direction. Storm stared down the barrel of the gun with unflinching resolve. Maverick couldn’t stop repeating that he was sorry as he slammed the trigger down.

CLICK!

The cylinder spun again. Maverick’s chest heaved as he dropped the gun on the table and doubled over to puke on the floor. Patriarch practically leapt backwards the second the revolting chunky substance splattered on the ground. He groaned before turning and nodding to Anvil, who silently grabbed a broom and bucket to clean it up.

Storm eyed the inside of the revolver’s barrel, where he noticed something different from when Maverick had pointed it at him. Instead of the abyssal tube inside the barrel, a tiny pinprick of brass was illuminated by the dim lighting.

“Dammit! There goes my appetite.” Patriarch mumbled before barking to the buffalo. “Turn the cooker off. We’ll reheat the potatoes tomorrow.”

Storm quickly glanced back to the kitchen. Indeed there was a large bot being boiled by a makeshift stove, which was powered by a generator and tank of fuel. Then he saw it. He saw what most ponies could never see from his distance. He saw what he had to plug so many times in his and Forge’s Sweeper invention.

A canister leak.

Now he could hear the tank squeak. It was impossible previously with Patriarch’s endless stories and Lead’s sobbing, but now it was clear as day to the amature engineer. A side glance to his grandfather revealed that he also noticed.

Forge swallowed hard before giving a subtle nod. Storm felt his heart jumpstart like an airship engine. Before he knew what his body was doing, the revolver was in his hoof and pointed at the tank.

BANG!

BOOM!

A blazing inferno engulfed the kitchen, sending the young mare to the ground while glass and wood flew in all directions. Storm dove into Maverick, sending them both to the ground. Anvil Block, being the closest to the blast, was sent into a booth while his front half became charred. Patriarch felt splinters and shards enter his side before he too slammed himself into a prone position. Rye ducked down to Leadwall and her guard’s levels as Forge struck his guard in the muzzle before shoving him in front as a meat shield against the debris.

The guard’s machine gun went flying in the chaos, landing in between the bleeding Patriarch and Storm, who were roughly equal distance from the weapon. Both males reached it at the same time, with Storm having the stock end and Patriarch having the barrel. Shouting and banging resounded from outside the saloon, but everyone inside had more prominent problems to deal with.

Forge had already gotten to work in removing the guard’s Tethertech to give Storm full control over the guardless weapon. Rye gave a swift buck to Leadwall’s guard, who was still standing up from pinning the ash unicorn down. Leadwall, now free from the silencing spell, wrapping a hoof around a shard of glass before eviscerating the guard’s throat in a series of repeated stabs. In the few seconds it took her to kill him, her hoof had become a scared and bloody mess. Forge was trading blows with his guard to the ground as Rye tried to snap Leadwall out of it.

Storm tap-fired the rifle, each kick from the recoil threatening to throw the weapon from his hooves. Patriarch continued to wrestle the machine gun’s barrel away from himself, until he got a clean opening over the gun’s bulk. His horn lit up, Storm’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Summoning a burst of strength, the colt shoved the rifle in between the stallion’s horn and himself, causing the kinetic blast to tear the weapon apart. Storm felt the shrapnel skid across his face and chest, but he managed to bring his wings up to protect his face.

A deep roar pierced the room as the colt felt something rock hard slam into his side, knocking the wind out of him entirely. Storm flew into the makeshift table setup in a daze. Before he could process what had just happened, an anvil of a hoof crushed his chest, revealing the buffalo of the same name standing over him. Blood sprayed from the gray pegasus’ mouth onto the unflinching beast, who reared it’s other hoof back in preparation to finish him off.

Suddenly, an explosion of gunshots zinged through the building as Forge unloaded the other dead guard’s rifle on Anvil Block. The buffalo's thick hide began to resemble swiss cheese, but he didn’t go down initially. Rye Blossom swooped down into Anvil, knocking his already weakened state off balance before sending them both crashing to the ground next to Storm.

He couldn’t breathe. Each inhale felt like daggers were stuck in his lungs and his breathing came out fragmented. The world blurred with each pulse of air as a dull ringing filled Storm’s ears, whether it was from the barrage of gunfire or from whatever the brute had just done was unknown.

“No, no, no!” He heard Rye’s distorted pleading as her blurry silhouette was parked over him. “Honey, please! Can you hear me?! Stay with u-”

A single round burrowed through Rye’s throat, exiting out the other side in a rapture of blood onto Storm’s chest. She began choking slowly, looking down and clutching the hole as if validation was needed that it had really happened. Then she collapsed directly next to the colt, revealing Patriarch with his reloaded revolver standing behind her.

“NOPONY FUCKING MOVE!” He demanded with a foreleg wrapped tightly around the fishnet mare’s neck, Patriarch used her as a meatshield while aiming the weapon at Storm’s downed body. Forge had his own rifle aimed at Patriarch while beads of sweat and tears rolled off his face. Leadwall was backed up with Maverick shielded behind her. “You ponies just can’t get with the program, can you?! Put the gun down now or I’ll cut him loose too!”

Forge’s lip continued to sweat as he looked at his grandson’s condition. Storm was able to see now, but his chest felt like a boulder had just crushed it. Both of them held expressions of despair as the mare’s corpse in between them could deny the truth no further. Forge slowly lowered the rifle to the floor.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Patriarch huffed. “Lower it and your son here lives!”

Suddenly, the rifle was launched across the floor to Leadwall’s position as the elder pegasus leapt into the air to tackle Patriarch, who fired a round into Forge’s chest, knocking him down directly next to his wife’s corpse.

Still holding the mare, Patriarch cocked the hammer back to finish Forge off when a torrent of bullets erupted into both himself and the hostage. Most of the rounds had found the poor mare, killing her on the spot, but Patriarch was more fortunate. Only a few of the rounds had hit him in lower places, however, the assault still dropped him to the floor.

Forge wasted no time disarming the slaver, kicking his skull down and taking the revolver away. Meanwhile, Maverick rushed to help Storm up, acting as a support for his wounded buddy. Leadwall stomped up to the scene with the rifle continuously held high. The fiery mare jammed the barrel into Patriarch's temple, sending a shockwave of panic through his normally calm eyes.

Now that the situation was under control, Forge quickly discarded any care for the Patriarch, instead crawling over to his wife’s body to confirm what he already knew had happened. With a bullet hole in the spot where his lung would be underneath, he held her still head in his hooves, clutching it to his chest while silent tears rained onto the floor. Storm watched the whole thing with a flood of emotions filling his wartorn body. Of them all, one had fought its way to the top of his mind, like it always did.

“What… why are you… waiting?!” The gray colt wheezed at Leadwall. “Blow his head off!”

“No.”

“The fuck do you mean?! He can’t… he doesn’t get to live after this!” Storm attempted to march forward, steal the gun from the mare and do it himself, but he collapsed the second he left his living crutch. “Please, Leadwall! Fucking kill him!”

“No!” She shouted back, refusing to lose focus on her prisoner. “We can use him, Storm! Take back the town! He’s filled everypony's head with his bullshit, they have nothing else to follow! If we threaten to take away what matters to them, they’ll all drop their guns and surrender! Then we can start living again! Not just struggling!”

Storm couldn’t argue much more. His body had already begun shutting down. The world’s dizzying effect had returned, but through it all, he could hear and see one last thing before blacking out.

“Do whatever you want.” Patrach crackled with a toothy smile. “All unions blow over eventually! Once everypony realizes how awful this chaos disguised as freedom is, they’ll all come running back to order! You’ll see! You’ll s-” A swift smack to the skull by Leadwall’s rifle butt knocked him out cold.

Storm woke up in the town’s hospital hours later. He clutched at his bandaged chest, alerting Maverick to his conscious presence. Besides the common courtesy “You’re alright,” neither colt had much to say to the other after the recent events. Storm already knew of the night’s outcome as he was in the remains of the town hospital instead of in a grave with a bullet in his skull.

Sounds of cheering, laughter and celebration raked at his ears from outside. It was still night, or maybe it was the next night or even a later date - he didn’t care. The dancing shadows and lights outside told him all he needed. Ponies were outside reuniting with loved ones, reclaiming their stuff from the pile, and possibly executing the former Wranglers.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened up, revealing Leadwall and a female buffalo. Leadwall froze upon seeing Storm, prompting her to turn towards the other girl. “I’ve got it from here, Strongheart, can you make sure nopony is tearing each other up over belongings?”

Strongheart nodded and left the room. Leadwall sighed before asking Maverick to give her and Storm a few minutes. The violet colt gave Storm a pat on the back, however, the gesture fell hollow on the gray pegasus once the events of the past returned to the forefront of his mind. Maverick left the room after giving his mother a brief hug, leaving the older mare and remaining colt alone.

Leadwall levitated a cup of water to his side, which the pegasus ignored in his zombified state. Finally, she took the hint and placed it on the table next to the hospital bed. Then the unicorn tip-toed to the bed and sat down next to the colt.

“We… I didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

No response. Storm continued to stare past the rotted wood floor.

“We got a doctor the second those pieces of filth surrendered their guns. You had two broken ribs poking at your insides. The doctor removed them and patched you up. It nearly took all the medicine, but I made sure you got through it. So did Maverick. He stayed here almost the whole time in case something went wrong. Even after all your help, we still can’t get that boy to stop thinking he knows better than everypony.”

Still nothing. So she tried to change tactics.

“I wish you could’ve seen it. It was unbelievable to see them all look like they had shit their suits once they saw us holding Patriarch at gunpoint. We made it quick too. Something they would’ve never offered us. Once all their stallions were disarmed, I killed Patriarch. Strongheart and a few others helped. Even if it was an execution, it was the most community-like thing I’ve seen this town do in a while. Shit, that sounded way more inspiring in my head…” Finally, Leadwall craned her head to look at him. His body language told her nothing. He was… frozen. Like a corpse that had been caught out in the winter evening. “Storm… I know a lot was… sacrificed for this, but just think about it for a second. We won, kid. You’re a hero too. Maverick and Ivory told everypony about your bravery. It wasn’t a clean victory by any means, but-”

“You won.”

Leadwall stopped mid sentence. The interruption was a ghost of a whisper, but she had definitely heard it.

“What-”

“That’s all that mattered, right?” His tone was as hollow as his dry throat. “You got your victory by acting. Didn’t matter what the results were as long as an action - any action - was taken.” Storm felt a hoof on his back, causing him to flinch away and shoot up off the bed like a short-ranged rocket.

“I don’t und-”

“STOP IT!” The unexpected roar made the mare recoil. The colt spun around to face her with teary ideas and hatred boiling on his face. “That’s all you’ve ever done! Play innocent, play dumb, guess your way through life without thinking a single Celestia-dammned thing through! You did it with Maverick and I had to practically raise him! Now here we are again! You hop on the first opportunity to do anything regardless of consequences and I have to clean it up! Now you have the audacity to call me the hero here?! I pulled the trigger, but I wouldn’t have had to if you had used your fucking head for once! We wouldn’t have been in that mess in the first place!”

Leadwall’s own eyes welled up with tears as she shot up. “Those are a lot of strong accusations, kid! I know you’re going through tartarus and back right now, so these things you’re saying are just anger talking. You know it, deep down, Forge and Rye gave their lives to give us a chance! I was ready to give mine and so were they! For you, for Maverick, Ivory, this whole town! Be mad at me all you want, but at the end of the day, you know I’m right.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Storm shook his head as hot tears poured freely out from his eyes, which the colt attempted to cover with a wing as he broke down. “I fucking hate you for being me! I hate that I couldn’t see the ticking time bomb that you are despite the fact I was staring in a mirror of the past every time I looked at you! It’s always the same! One reckless act! One shot to kick start it! The only variable is how many have to die in the process! Well, I’m done looking into mirrors! From now on, I’ll smash it to pieces or walk away until I can’t see the reflection.”

With that cold statement made, the gray pegasus stomped past the mare on the bed, slamming the door as he went and nearly knocking the thing off its hinges. He left a frozen Leadwall in awe at the outburst, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. All he knew for certain was he had to get away. From himse- From her! From Leadwall.

Eventually, the ashen mare pulled herself together to follow him outside. She found Storm dragging Forge’s old ATS suit out of a pile of executed Wrangler items. Storm sniffled as he yanked the straps around his frame despite the suit being a size or two smaller than his build.

Storm paused when his gaze landed on a familiar item in the pile of weapons, which had been amassed by the townsfolk in the redeeming days he was out cold for. Using his retrieved Tethertech, the colt picked up the slab-barreled rifle.

“Think about this, Storm! Please-” Leadwall’s mouth was locked shut the second all five barrels pressed against her neck.

“I’ll walk away or shatter the mirror…” Storm reminded her with an empty tone. His telekinetic grip on the weapon was shaky at best, but the mare was sure he could still use it. And judging by his current state, he would if she didn’t comply.

It took every bit of Leadwall’s will to pull back and give him some room, but she did rectuantly. Storm finished loading up with his possessions as she watched in silent horror, trying to think of any way to get through the colt’s head that didn’t involve five nails going into her own.

“What about Maverick?” She found it. “You’re just going to abandon your best friend?! What about Ivory, I see the way she looks at you! I was in love once too, you know!”

“I’m doing this for them! If they stay here, they’re fucked with m- with you, and if they leave then they’re fucked with me! It’s their choice with you, but I’m done being the downfall of everyone I care about!” He began walking towards the train station, the old point of teleportation entry and exit to and from the town.

That was it. Leadwall couldn’t say anything more. She couldn’t take anymore. Her own tears flooded her vision as the colt walked away. She knew they had won, but not everypony did. Some had lost long before the Wranglers, but at least had something or someone to hang onto to trick themselves. To hide the wretched truth and find a reason to keep going.

Leadwall had shattered his illusion. She didn’t just lose two good friends. She lost three family members. So she did the thing that had always worked. She ran. Ran from the guilt, ran from the colt who would be teleported away, never to return because of her. The one pony who had fixed her broken family, she had repaid by shattering what was already cracked in him.

And she hated herself for it. Leadwall knew she could rebuild a broken town. But a broken mind and heart were irreplaceable after she had unknowingly put a lock on the replacement organs. She knew he couldn’t hear her, but she had to say it.

“You didn’t kill anypony, kid…”

Author's Note

Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I'm so thankful I managed to get a chapter and artwork out for the season, even if the artwork isn't cannon to the plot in any way. Those drawings are coming soon, rest assured. Anyway, onto the chapter. This was another difficult, but rewarding one as I had to condense the Wrangler's rule into a single chapter and tell a bit about the backstory between Storm and Leadwall's falling out. All in all, I am very pleased with the unique take on slavers the Wranglers have with their capitolist society-like reign. There will be much more on their rules and customs later, but I didn't want to overload with everything going on in this chapter alone. I am also aware of many questions and holes this chapter leaves by itself, however, I do have answers later on down the road. There is much more to be explored with Maverick's mother, Leadwall, and Storm's relationship that should fill in said gaps. It's all part of my slow burn style.

That is all for now! Have a wonderful Christmas and a happy new year, everyone!

Credit to the drawing's background goes to the talented: Vector-Brony