Fallout: Equestria - Murky Number Seven

Then, the unthinkable.

Throwing the last pony from his back, Brimstone rounded off...only for a shot to smash right into the front of his armour and penetrate. The big raider staggered, before a mass of other shots rattled against his armour. Heedless of friendly fire, they were shooting even while others rammed and attacked him. My throat was raw from screaming as I saw him fall.

Protégé, the last of us remaining on his hooves, spun, his revolver snapping off precise shots aimed via E.F.S. Raiders fell on every side, the last two shots even going high, bringing down two of the snipers. A series of clicks announced he was empty, leading to his backup pistol being drawn and blasting at those trying to close on him. That too ran dry. His face was a mask of fear, anger, hate, guilt, and yet he moved with absolute burning determination.

Screaming to the sky above through the skylight, whipping rain and lightning in the air around him, his magic lifted a half dozen fallen weapons, unloading in all directions, even as I saw him stagger from rounds striking off his armour. Raiders fell one after another, being knocked away or forced back. All weapons empty, he even smashed raiders in the face with his empty revolver, but for every one he struck, another two leapt forward, dragging, pulling, and finally striking. Finally, A club swung, and my master dropped.

Hoisting his, I hoped, unconscious body up, they cheered, yelling and laughing at their prize.

I had two grenades. I could...I could...

A brass hoof impacted on my head, and I could do no more but fall into the darkness that awaited.

* * *

An immense pressure was across me. A force, pulling me down and down. My legs wouldn't work, my neck felt sluggish to move.

A red glow washed across me, twisting and warping in abstract shapes to slowly come together.

I was in Fillydelphia, witnessing the shape of the great Wall before me, taller than ever. Dizzy, tired, and parched; I could only lethargically shift and moan toward it as the construct got higher and higher, growing from the ground while my own place of lying only got deeper. A monumental force around my torso, tugging and striving, holding me down and pulling me deeper into the crater. Across the lip and slipping further and further in.

I couldn't even scream. I couldn't cry out. My throat was burning, the radiation from the crater affecting me. Tasting blood, it dribbled from my mouth.

But there, ahead of me I saw a light. A shining beacon of hope that held itself amongst an aura of calming magic. It grew, rising and floating into the sky toward the top of the massive wall, now reaching the clouds and bending backward over me. Choking on blood, my lungs spasming and retching, I forced one leg to wave, to shout for help.

But the light only kept ascending, flying without wings toward the lip of the Wall and disappearing into the world beyond, never to be seen again.

The glowing heart of the crater only awaited me, every part of my body beginning to ache and shiver from radiation poisoning. My chest swelled up, the tainted lungs bulging and throbbing. I couldn't breathe. I was dro-dro...drowning...

The sickened last gurgling scream to leave my lips was only responded to by that one hated line, emanating from Fillydelphia as a whole.

...she didn't save you.

Everything began fading, a darkness beyond black creeping in at the edges of my vision, only being broken by one brief sight of somepony reaching out toward me, shining with an inner light. G-Glimmer? Coral? S-Sundial? Who was...

* * *

Every sense was brought into the horrid weight of reality by the slap across the face. My head twisted, coughing and spluttering on the taste of iron in my mouth. A sweet and sickly stench drifted into my nostrils. The back of my head felt wet.

“Wake up, filly. You've had your rest.”

No. No, don't open my eyes. All a nightmare...all a nightmare...all a—

The second slap threw my head back down again. A thick lump on the back of my skull ached terribly, pounding on my brain.

“Oh no. No sleep any more for you, filly. Time to get up and face the music. Dreamland's too good for you.”

I whimpered, curling my legs inward, striving to stay in the darkness, praying to wake up to somewhere else. Anywhere else.

“I said wake up!”

My head was lifted, pulling my entire body from the floor, shaken, slapped, and thrown back again. Two hooves clasped either side of my face, squeezing hard enough until I began to whinny and murmur in pain. My cheeks were being crushed. My jaw pushed too far to one side.

Finally, I opened my eyes to see my assailant. I knew who it was by voice alone, but seeing Barb's sick grin made me want to break down in tears on the spot. We were in darkness, an enclosed room. Around me were a few other ponies lying in various states of health. Some of them had died. One had been lying right next to me with open mouth and eyes, three curved knives embedded in his sternum. The gunfire had finally stopped, but other, more messy and sickening sounds had replaced it within the immediate vicinity.

Barb, however, gradually came into clarity. Upon witnessing him, I simply screamed.

The chieftain wore the carved skins of dark-coated ponies. Small lengths of flesh lay across his torso like crude barding, blending into the darkness. Draped across his shoulders, I could see the dark blood still sticking to the back of his neck. It settled across thin leather armour that bore carved designs of barbed wire running below the still wet skins. Held on his front hoof, a long blade seemed to pulse with dark magic. In the shadowy room, amongst corpses, I felt like I was staring at some sort of horrific, leering wraith.

Seeing my gaze flicker from side to side of his new sick attire, Barb chuckled, trotting forward, making my eyes go wide when the barding of skin rippled and flowed through the shadows around him.

“There we go. All awake at last. Like my latest fashion? Helps get the frenzy going, seeing their leader get ‘dressed up’.”

I was released from the telekinetic field, thrown to the ground and left to curl up in this macabre place. Barb’s white teeth became clearer, as his grin widened.

“Actually, I was beginning to think we might have needed your little buckfriend to keep you alive for a while. Pity he's a little busy right now.”

Another fleshy crunch sounded from outside, accompanied by a shocked gasp of pain and retching. Oh Caduceus...

“It really is quite lovely, you know? That satisfaction of seeing somepony rush blindly into your trap and just knowing you're going to have fun with them afterwards. Welcome to the kill room, little filly.”

Glancing from side to side, shivering as each lifeless corpse stared back or was frozen in a horrified expression. They'd all died knowing...

“W-What do you want with me?”

“Oh, that question!” Barb seemed delighted, trotting in a circle waving his head with a smile. “I do so love that question, it always allows one of the better answers.”

Backing away, I squeaked as I accidentally nudged into another of the multiple corpses in the darkened room. I could barely see, my vision wasn't adjusting in this odd half-light. Barb moved forward, his crisp white teeth showing with a mad grin.

“Which is simply...nothing.”

“N-nothing?”

“Nothing at all. You aren't special to me, not anymore. You've done your part, stayed silent when I needed you to and got those keys. Oh no. Now you're simply the next in line for me to throw to my Shades. All bets are off now that you're here, filly. Must feel nice, knowing your life is about to become nothing more than a plaything to keep my Shades entertained. But that's what you get when you become our prisoner. Now get up, the game starts soon.”

My only response was a wet cough and a weak of my head.

“Please, Barb, I...I...”

“If you're going to beg. Save it for the Shades.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Begging won't help you now, but it will entertain them. Feel free to cry as much as you want then. They love that.”

Already my eyes began to tear up, the stark horror playing its way into my head. We were trapped with raiders in a place nopony could get to, or wanted to get to. Betrayed and left to be captured. Feeling disbelief and horror threaten to overwhelm me, it took Barb actually pulling me with his magic to rip me from the ground and yank me outside, crying the entire way. When the light hit me, it became clear how little I had. I'd been stripped of everything. My saddlebag was gone, my battle saddle torn off and even my fleece had disappeared. I felt horribly exposed.

But what lay out of the room was so much worse.

That same hell I saw on my way in now lay around me within an old restaurant. Raiders screamed and whooped, laughing and savagely picking on the new influx of prisoners. They staggered or lay on the ground, their malnourished slave bodies unable to cope with the 'fun' the raiders were having. Others lay lifeless, just hunks of skinned meat hung over the balconies of the plaza. The remaining slaver who had charged with us was lying in a groaning, skinned heap, bloodied and stained atop the restaurant counter like some hideous, living trophy. A hideous cry went out, followed by a ripping sound of which I didn't want to guess the origin of. It had come from another backroom behind the restaurants kitchen where blood now seeped out of the doorway. Knowing Barb's new 'armour', I began to feel distinctly sick as to what that rip and agonised cry was.

Yet as I sought them out immediately, I felt momentary relief at seeing each friends alive.

That was about where the good news ended. My eyes first saw Caduceus, dropping across the floor, his snout broken and leaking blood. Three raiders rushed around, laughing and picking him back up again. The nurse limply let his head drift from side to side, clearly nearing unconsciousness. Glimmerlight was here, but kept contained in an old rusted cage on the other side of the room. One of her eyes was swollen, closed over as she lay on her side, breathing very thinly. Brimstone and Ragini were near her, both kept chained to the ground on thick manacles that the raiders had hammered into the concrete floor. Even as I watched, raiders were taking it in turns to rush in and strike the trapped warlord, laughing as they dodged his return attacks, constrained by the chains. His fury was clear to see.

Protégé was nowhere to be seen.

“Eurgh!”

There was another hard crack, as a raider bucked Caduceus in the stomach. The buck doubled over, blood spraying from his mouth. I tried to run to him, attempting to help him up. I felt his hooves latch onto me, shivering and desperate, turning his face to exhaustedly look at me.

“Murk...run. Run, Murk...” He tried to gasp, now trying to push me somewhere, too beaten and dazed to think straight. But magic gripped my midsection, pulling me back. Our hooves separated as I tried to keep a hold of the pony who'd kept me alive in the battle. Barb sauntered among the entire scene, absent-mindedly tugging me with him. Below us, I could hear the slaves we had secured being rounded up and herded. Across the room, some of them were cowed in the corners, the light grey of Coral between two other mares was clear to see. She was unconscious.

“Welcome to our little playhouse, filly. Course that play only goes one way, not that we exactly care. Hey, boys! Filly's up!”

My blood chilled as the raiders, bearing bleeding piercings and crude bloodied warpaint swung up, cheering and moving forward toward me. I saw Glimmerlight's head rise sharply at my presence, before pushing her hooves against the cage.

“Just leave him be! He doesn't deserve anything in here!”

They didn't care. Reaching me, I found myself being shoved from raider to raider. One of them grabbed me, pointing at me.

“Leave him? He shot me in the fuckin' chest! Big bruise there now, ruined me favourite plate! Who's to say I dun get my revenge, eh?”

He shoved me to the ground, teeth clamping onto a wing. Hidden from Glimmerlight by the crowd, I heard her scream for me, only louder as my own shriek of terror echoed above it, high pitched and pleading.

“Leave them alone, for now.” Barb waved his subordinate away. My wing snapped back into its deadened held state, aching from the movement. I felt the stiff ligaments grind under my skin. “Get him in a chair, we've got a warm up to do first. Time for a little Six-Shooter Surprise while we wait for Shackles, boys!”

The bellowing roar momentarily deafened me. I was hoofed across the face, dizzied and dragged across the floor to be pressed against a small bench. Coarse rope was wound around me, cutting off circulation and rubbing at my skin. It was soaked in rainwater from lying under a leak. The storm was still raging, with more and more water beginning to trickle through the roof and puddle on floors or the plaza. I could hear the broken frame of the skylight banging in the wind, and hear thunder smashing its way across the sky, punctuated by lightning that gave the raiders a terrifying, demonic appearance.

“Murky! Murky! Are you alright? Did they do anything!?”

Glimmerlight's voice shouted toward me; if I strained my neck I could just turn my head to see her cage. The mare was pressed against it, looking through one eye to check on me. They hadn't, but there was another problem bubbling up inside me.

“I n-n-need my RadAway, Glimmer. It's getting worse...”

I could feel my throat searing and aching from more than just swallowed rainwater. The cough I followed up with only helped prove it. I had two sachets in my saddlebag, but wherever that was I didn't know.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Murky...just stay strong. I'm here, alright?”

“HAH! Not for long!” One raider hoofed her cage, before leering in, his eyes clearly not on her face.

Hissing back, she struck the cage toward him with a fiery backlash of anger. The raider only laughed, trotting on to help with their set-up. Holding a hoof over her damaged eye, my dear friend just silently pleaded with her eyes to me. The words clear: we'll get out somehow.

The raiders pulled a single small table out with two hard wooden chairs either side. All the rest were removed, thrown away or over the edge until they had an area left over. Cries went out for 'the first two!' Chants and bellows of choosing went. I heard “The filly!” a few times, or “The traitor!” Barb, presiding at the middle, waved his hooves to take it all in.

“You all know the rules! The leader gets first pick, then we'll let you all vote on the lucky two! First round! I say...”

His eyes cast about, from me to Glimmer, then they rested on Brimstone before looking back at Glimmerlight. He grinned, before turning to point at the one surviving slaver.

“Let's have him! Don't we all remember him throwing food across old Rusty Nail? Let's bring him in to see how brave he is now he’s in our world!”

A cheer went out, the Shades dragging the struggling and shouting slaver toward the table. Immediately they began chanting.

“Next! Next! Next!”

Barb's eyes settled on the impassive Brimstone, then again on Glimmerlight, before grinning wickedly. Oh no. Oh no.

Then his hoof shot to the side, away from her. “The griffon!”

But Ragini would not be taken so easily. The moment they approached her, the griffon lashed out, scything her talons across one’s face and even beating her strong wings to slap them back. Laughing, Barb hopped down from his perch to look at her.

“Still so resistant, featherbrain. What? You think you've got a hope? You think someone's coming to save you?”

“Stern's wing are going to waste you all. I can grin knowing you're going to be taking an anti-machine round to the head very soon.”

“Oh?” Barb chuckled, accompanied by the raiders. “But you see, dear griffon, they aren't coming. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm no idiot. You think I'd have started this if it were anything but a completely controlled move? Do you not remember Shackles casting you and your beloved master to us? Oh no. Right now he'll be out there telling the griffons that all is fine! That I've agreed to negotiate with him and end the violence. Sure we might get a little punishment, but we're a tough lot. Only now, there won't be any Protégé in power, he'll be long dead by then.”

Ragini struck out, her claws whizzing inches from Barb's face. The raider didn't even move.

“Really, you all played your part so well in our plan to get Shackles in power, where ponies like me will benefit so much under his protection and interests. Poor Protégé, the prodigal 'son' of Red Eye, cut down while foolishly leading a suicidal mission against me. Only for Chainlink Shackles to show his worth by ending this with words. He'll be praised. Really, did you all honestly think I didn't know about that side door? Really?”

Fury swept Ragini, and with a loud cry, she leapt forward. One of her chains broke from the wall, her oustretched talons sweeping across Barb's face. Forced to dodge, he recovered his posturing as fast as he could, but everypony had seen him have to react quickly. It broke the spell of arrogance.

I knew his anger when he was forced to have to react. A dangerous tone cut into his voice.

“Oh, big mistake, griffon. Big mistake. No, you're not going in the game, you get to suffer. To suffer the worst thing any flyer could ever have.”

His eyes looked to the side, finding me. Then he grinned, getting an idea.

“...pin her down. Break her wings. This bird won't fly ever again.”

Ragini struggled immediately, pulling on the chains, slashing out. From nearby, I saw raiders pulling over an old iron block along with a sledgehammer. My sides felt like they had a phantom ache, tears springing into my eyes. The imagery of a slave master holding an anvil and a hammer ready, of being dragged toward it prime in my mind. I wanted someone to stop this. Anyone.

But nothing could. We were simply their toys now.

Even as it began, I struggled helplessly, trying to hide my own wings out of fear alone. Barb only sat beside me on the bench, holding my face toward Ragini as the raiders pinned the large creature down, pulled out her first wing, and swung.

I hadn't known griffons could scream that loud.

Hideous minutes passed. Each crunching impact making me cry out and try to look away. But he held me there, looking like some haunting demon overseeing his pit; one hoof despicably caressing my wings to just remindme. The piercing cries of the griffon echoed all around the plaza, going on and on. Barb only chuckled, delighting in the 'performance' before finally signalling them to stop. Each wing, pulverised and broken beyond repair, drooped at her sides. She was controlling her expression, holding back tears and refusing to give them the satisfaction, but I knew that look, that horrible realisation of what she had now lost. Ragini had never liked me, but I quickly began to feel only I would really understand her pain right now. Very quickly, I saw her seem to pass out on the spot, the agony overwhelming her.

“Well, well, well! A nice warm up! Now back to the event. We'll need somepony else now! How about...”

Scanning his eyes across, I saw him clearly tempted by Brimstone. The warlord just met his gaze, as though daring him for whatever sick game this was. Barb only grinned, changing his glare to Glimmerlight. His hoof shot out to the side again, just like before, like he knew it was taunting me.

“The mare's new little boy-toy! Bring him up here!”

Caduceus, held up by two raiders, reacted with shock, trying to push backward. But they closed around him, dragging the buck over to the table where the slaver was being forced into the seat and held at gunpoint. Glimmerlight bucked the cage, crying out to him. I did too, but all I received was a hoof to the skull. Crying out in pain, I only briefly saw them pushing Caduceus into the chair before Barb silenced them again.

“Six! Shooter! SURPRISE!”

Another resounding cheer.

“As I said, something to keep us all entertained while Shackles sorts out the talks with the griffons! So for those six-shooter virginsout there...”

A raucous laugh from the raiders.

“...the rules.”

Protégé's revolver slammed down on the table between them. It had been horribly customised and ruined. There seemed to be a new metal sheath covering the back of the revolver itself, preventing anypony seeing the contents of the chambers. His magic, dark shadowy and whisping, picked it up before loading a single round into it.

“You may recognise the idea similar to one many gamblers play with if they're feeling a little extreme, but we take it a step further.”

The revolver snapped shut, spinning the drum wildly. He then held it between the two. Caduceus glanced at it, nervously watching the gun. The slaver was breathing heavily, easily calmer than the nurse. Caduceus, looking toward me and Glimmer, just shook his head.

“I don't want to play your game! Look, I can heal—”

“Tough! You stood against us, so it's you or him now! This gun's going to spin, right? Whoever it lands on takes the gun and pulls the trigger against their own head. End of the match, somepony's going to be dead, so who will it be? Slaver or nurse? Calm or nervous? You look ready to piss yourself, healer!”

The raider's laughed again. Caduceus was wounded, sweating and tired. I could see him shaking. Please Goddesses, pull him through this.

“Please!” Caduceus thumped a hoof on the table. “There's no reason to do any of this!”

“Shut up! You're playing!”

The revolver whipped him across his broken muzzle, drawing a sharp gasp, and leaving Caduceus leaning heavily to one side.

I could feel myself wanting to shout support, but my throat was raspy, and I wasn't sure if it even felt right. Him winning meant somepony else dying. There was no happy end to this. It was a decided game. One death, one survivor to whatever else the raiders wanted to do. The inevitability of it was heartbreaking. We were trapped in their deluded world, abandoned by sanity.

“Round ONE!”

Now their sick games were beginning.

The gun span in Barb's magic. The raiders began cheering, just as a roll of thunder made the room shake. The table overlooked the plaza, blowing the two duelling ponies' manes in the wind. The revolver sped up and spun madly, before slowing...turning...aiming...

...right at Caduceus. The gathered ponies whooped, laughing as I saw Caduceus gasp in horror. The poor buck had only come to help ponies. He didn't deserve this! Shaking, he reached out his hooves, taking the revolver so lightly he nearly dropped it.

“Look, we can—”

“DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!”

“They want you to pull that trigger! Best not upset them or it's kneecaps for you, lad! Hahaha!”

Wiping his mane, Caduceus took the pistol. Shaking, he began holding it against the bottom of his muzzle, pointing upward through his skull. Glimmerlight was pressing her nose through the bars, soundlessly moving her lips.

Whimpering, Caduceus closed his eyes, a hoof resting on the enlarged trigger.

Click.

The gun slammed down, Caduceus gasping and breathing hard, shivering intently. The slaver met his glare harshly, staying silent and preparing should it ever land on him. I squirmed, trying to move. Caduceus needed support, somepony beside him!

“Round TWO!”

Spin, spin, spin. The revolver travelled even faster, blurring before finally slowing down. Caduceus slammed a hoof on the table.

“Please! Stop this madness, before somepon—”

His watcher behind his chair rocketed Caduceus' head forward into the table. I screamed out loud, stopped only as my throat lurched and spat blood across the chair. It kept coming, slight spray after slight spray. Bound down, it hurt my body, unable to properly move with it. Caduceus was pushing himself up, but I could see his eyes on me.

“Somepony. Get him RadAway...he nee—”

Another hoof cracked into his skull. Recovering from my coughing fit, feeling myself flush with heat and shiver in fever, I was awestruck. Here he was in the middle of this fiendish game, still following his oath.

“Maybe if you win...hehe. We'll say that if you win, you can get him what he needs to survive. Sound fair, everypony? Nurse wins and the filly gets his medicine! Pressure's on now, 'Caddy', hehe...”

The gun was still spinning, sped up again during the distraction by Barb. But now it came to rest on the slaver. Growling, the slaver picked it up, holding the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger quickly while roaring in anger.

Click.

Slamming the gun back down, he shook out his black mane.

“Fucking game. Fucking raiders. Fucking sick bastards!”

The game did not stop. The gun spun. The gun stopped. Once again, it faced the slaver who swore, pounding the table with a hoof. Snarling and knocking back a raider who tried to force his hoof, he just picked up the gun and held it.

“Fuck...fuck...fuck...”

The gun was raised to his head.

“FUUUUU—” Click. “—UUCK!”

Crying out, punching a hoof up on sheer terror-filled adrenaline, the slaver celebrated in sheer relief.

“Half way down! We're into the home run here, my friends!” Barb announced, waving a hoof in grand fashion. Lightning lit him from behind, flaring him into a mad silhouette, that skinned barding becoming beaded with raindrops that sizzled on the dead flesh. His magic pulled the gun from the slaver, leaving him to breathe out, snarling a sudden grin at his 'opponent'.

“One in three, nurse. One in three...”

Caduceus just sat and stared at it, looking on the verge of breaking down completely. The gun began to speed up again, but I saw him only now turning to look toward Glimmerlight. The two just stared at one another, sharing unspoken support in the middle of this hellish nightmare we had been trapped in. I kept trying to think of ways out, But there weren't. Nopony was coming for us until we were already dead. We had no way out...no way out.

The gun stopped facing Caduceus again. I heard his near silent whimper of fear. He was putting on as brave a face as he could, but I could see his cheeks stained with stressful tears. Turning, he saw me looking, even though my building sickness, I made sure to keep my eyes on him, trying to offer what pitiful support a coward like me could.

But his face hardened upon seeing me. I could see the look in his eyes. Barb had promised him a chance to get me RadAway if he lived. That was just the little bit of hope we needed. Come on, Caduceus!

Steeling himself, the buck turned, sweeping up the gun and planting it under his head again. Breathing deeply, closing his eyes, he seemed to go utterly calm. Raiders were chanting, the slaver was thumping his hoof on the table, as though getting caught up in this.

“Right. Right, do it and I can heal. Oh, forgive me for doing harm in this moment...”

He pulled the trigger. Ever so slowly I saw the gun move. react and—

Click.

The cheer was enough to make me whine in pain at the noise. Raiders were taking bets, bets of all things from caps to 'turns' with prisoners. One mare seemed particularly eager to get a hold of Caduceus if he won. I wasn't sure he appreciated it much, falling to lie his head on the table, hyperventilating in shocked relief.

Suddenly, the slaver didn't look so calm.

Glimmerlight was pressed against the bars, watching with a hurt look. We shared a glance. This was coming to its end. Caduceus had survived one more round. It felt like a fall into madness, praying that somepony else got the bullet, but he was our friend!

“Next round!” Barb announced, the gun spinning for an incredibly long time. Finally, it began slowing, twisting, and sometimes accelerating again to draw out more thunderous stomping from the raiders. Even the raiders below us watching the doorways were cheering as they waited to hear the bang.

Slowly, dreadfully, it pointed back at Caduceus again.

I heard Glimmerlight scream out. “You can do it! Trust! Trust in something! You can still win this, Caddy!”

He was shaking so much, hooves cradling the revolver, looking across at Glimmerlight. I could hear his voice stammering.

“One more...fifty percent chance. Oh no... “

“Come on! Do it! DO IT!”

The raiders joined her, but for their own reasons.

“Go, ya coward!”

Finally, shakily, it went up to his jawline one again. His eyes looked sideways at me, before becoming determined, beginning to utter something, a healer's oath...

“We pledge to the Princesses...to the Ministries as one...to Equestria as a whole...” He began reciting. “...we of the Ministry of Peace choose to suffer any hardship to bring healing to those who need it; who require our aid, be they pony or any creature. Kindness in all things, strength to carry through and let those in need know we have the courage to stand in the line of fire to save them!”

Raising his voice, shouting above the raiders, he took one last look at the slaver before him, who was already beginning to look nervous.

“I may have been born long after a time such an oath was meant for, but I see ponies in need of my skills. I will find the courage to stand up for them! Weathervane taught me that much; to go through fear to find the chance to heal!”

Glimmerlight could hardly look prouder, smiling, crying, nodding her support to him. He could do this. Come on, one last chance! One last—

BLAM!

Every sound ceased, other than the echo of the revolver going off slamming back and forth between the plaza walls.

Slumping forward and to the side, his body fell off the chair and collapsed lifelessly upon the ground.

Glimmer's voice reached my ears before I could even take a breath, a drawn out wail of horror and loss. My own cry strangled itself on my rough throat, the effort forcing me almost to unconsciousness and feverish fainting. My eyes were just locked on him on the floor. Just...b-but no warning or...or goodbye...

The raiders whooped, laughing and stomping. Bets changed hooves. The slaver cheered out, throwing his hooves in the air, slamming the table in jubilation. Brimstone merely lowered his head, snarling with barely repressed fury. Barb took centre stage, recovering the gun.

“And just like that it's over! What a round! What a surprise for the good doctor, eh?”

I'd lost a friend before I even got to properly know him, through the most unfair and random chance possible. The wastes claiming another good pony without regret or reason. He was gone.

Just...like...that.

“NEXT! ROUND!” Barb, loud and proud, was demonstrating all the presence of the leader now, the shadow left to lie silent. My tears wouldn't stop coming. I kept remembering the scant day or so around Caduceus, another pony who had been kind to me, torn away by some stupid reason! I'd been starting to really like him, with that polite and professional attitude, the way he wasn't afraid to just give me a hug or take care of me even when he knew he shouldn't be away from the hospital...

He'd risked his life to save us...

Now Fillydelphia had left him as just another corpse. That same body that was now being heaved over the balcony to fall into the half flooded plaza below. Glimmerlight was calling them every name under the sun, banging the cage. Even Brimstone took a swipe at one raider who got too close, sending him smashing back into the others. They just laughed. They didn't care about anypony! Feral and sadistic, they just danced in the mania of their hellish world.

He couldn't be just gone like that. It wasn't right, it was too early! He was meant to survive! To escape with us!

“No...”

“Now who's next? How about I let you lot choose this time, eh?”

Immediately, the crowd began chanting. I saw Ragini wake up from the noise, moaning in pain as her ruined wings spasmed or tried to move. The raiders threw hooves in all directions, calling for who they wanted. Some pointed at slavers they hated, others at slaves who they thought would be funny. Many crowded to get Brimstone in there.

But there was one or two names meaning the same pony above all of it.

“FILLY! FILLY! FILLY!”

“PEGASUS! PEGASUS!”

Barb pretended not to hear them, amping them up like some troupe leader, before he finally rounded and pointed at me, his flesh cloak wavering around him.

“The little runt it is!”

Their cheer almost drowned out the thunder itself. The rain had only gotten harder, the ongoing thumping of it hitting the ground merging with my shivering and matching the sudden increase in terror I felt. Under the hiss of rainfall, I felt hooves clasp over me, tearing my bonds free. I heard Glimmerlight scream for them to let go of me and heard Brimstone bellow. They were not kind, not respectful, and filled with a frenzied mob mentality. I screamed again, feeling myself being born aloft by them and carried to the now bloodstained table and chair. Hooves grabbed or pushed me all over as they massed around to force me in. My wounds were grasped, making me shrilly plead and push back. Many of them imitated my high voice. One even spanked me with a hoof, getting a big laugh for my reaction. I felt so powerless.

My rump landed on the sticky seat. I tried to push away, but they were insistent. Then the barrel of a rifle was pointed against my cheek.

“You try to run, we don't kill you, filly.” Barb spoke from behind the riflepony. “We'll only stop ya running. Trust me, we can do so much worse if entertainment isn't our business. I'm sure there's a few ponies in here would just love a pegasus. You know what they call wings? Handlebars!”

The sick joke made them roar in laughter Whining and curling up on the seat, trying to cover every part of myself I could, I could see Glimmerlight trying to buck open her cage again, with little luck. Brimstone was striving, pushing against the wall with all his might, but the chains were in deep. He fell to the ground, panting and trying to build his strength into aching muscles.

“Our next challenger! Now who shall we get to face him?” Barb swung around, brandishing the revolver. “I said I'd let you choose, but may I offer a recommendation?”

The raiders went quiet. They were too excited, too hyped up to worry about who got what now. This was their pay off, for weeks of waiting without opportunity to really cut loose, and I was in their sights. But who would they—

“What about...his master?”

My heart skipped a beat. Amongst a colossal cheer that shook the very roof with their stomping, one of the doors leading out of the restaurant onto the second floor of the plaza was knocked open, a sorry sight being dragged in. Protégé had been horrendously beaten, barely able to even trot as they shoved and pushed the normally so proud unicorn in. Seeing me sitting opposite the table, he just scowled at them.

“You won't achieve anything with this!”

Barb chuckled. “On the contrary. I don't want to. We just want a good time! Win or lose, one of you are not going back to your bed tonight! Now, get in the seat and we'll begin...”

“We can— URGH!”

One of the raiders, a sickly yellow mare with an old grenade pin through her nostrils, slammed a pipe into his back legs. My master went down, before they began pulling him across to the table. I wanted to run around it, to help him, but the rifle's cold muzzle still pressed against my neck.

“Now! Master or slave, which will survive Six Shooter Surprise?” Barb announced to the rest of the raiders. Protégé and I just looked at one another. This was...oh Goddesses lift me from this hell, this wasn't right.

Me or him. There was no way out of it.

One of us was going to die.

* * *

Barb spent some time building the raiders up into another frenzy of excitement. Many of the slaves were being forgotten, thrown in locked rooms or held down with chains and shackles. A huge portion of the gang had come up to view this match. Surrounding us on all sides, we were alone in a sea of raiders against the balcony of the plaza. Behind us, rain poured through the skylight, the wind making the Ministry Mare posters billow and whip around. Only through a small gap could I see Glimmerlight, Coral, and Brimstone at the back.

I couldn't stop crying, trying to not look at the gun, not wanting to imagine what we were going to actually do.

But Protégé would not be cowed so easily. He was unsteady on his hooves, but he still managed to summon a little strength to sit up straight and point a hoof.

“You're only allowing yourself time to end up dead, Barb! Talk with me. We can end this without any more blood!”

Barb simply leaned against the balcony, tossing his long dark blue mane out. Then he sneered.

“I've put up with this idealistic shit since the moment you woke up, kid. I'm a little sick of it by now. I know what you are. Shackles told me pretty clearly. I'm thinking that I can't stand to see one of Red Eye's nonces through this entire game. I'd rather look at the real pony behind the mask.”

He nodded to four raiders.

“Strip him.”

Without hesitation, they bounded forward, grabbing and pulling Protégé off the seat. He fought back, but the big burly earth ponies were far too strong. The eyepiece, something I was surprised he even still had on, was tossed aside, being taken by Barb. Then they began pulling, ripping at buckles, and forcefully tugging at his barding and clothing. Over the course of a minute, they pulled everything that signified his uniform I'd come to know from the poor unicorn, leaving me to watch in horror.

“I got it! I got it! Off ya come!”

There was a tear of fabric, and finally, the barding was torn away, ripping the last of his clothing off my master. Even the clasp for his ponytail was taken, letting his mane fall loose around his head. Shoving him over, Protégé landed in a puddle, wincing from the acidic liquid.

But he was no longer a slaver.

Before me, battered, dirtied, sleep deprived, and kept away from food by a combination of duty and captivity...I saw nothing but a slave. Those two deep red eyes just found mine, seeing my open mouth. He really was just like me.

Whipscars covered his body, even one old gunshot wound somewhere along his stomach line. Patches where his coat hadn't regrown properly were a lighter shade of black; the legacy of Fillydelphia's diseases. The large swelling from the sniper shot earlier was there too. He'd been through a life just like me. But one thing caught my eye, something I'd never seen before.

His cutie mark.

I saw a symbol that both hurt and inspired, that was both a dream and a trap. He bore upon his flank a brass coloured and simplified version of the symbol of Equestria itself, two arched shapes circling one another, while the red eye glowed at the centre between them.

To save Equestria. Under Red Eye. It was everything that he was, everything he dreamed, and everything that was controlling his life.

It was beautiful and yet covered in tragedy.

There was something off about it, though. That red eye in the middle didn’t look like a normal cutie mark, it overlapped the circular shape, not quite in line with it.

I wasn’t given time to think on why that was. What was now a slave before me was picked up, and hurled back into his seat. We were only a foot or two away from each other at this small table, almost like a staring contest. Barb chucked, spinning the revolver absent-mindedly.

“There, there. Now isn't that better? Nothing between the two of you now. The one who hid his wings, and the one who hid his past, both out of shame. You can look right into their eyes, or even reach out for comfort if you aren't afraid to show it to all of us. We won't laugh...much. Now let's get to business. But, how about we up the stakes?”

The revolver's drum slid open, Barb inserting two bullets, one beside the other, before respinning.

“Two rounds, less free slots before somepony gets it. GAME ON!”

The revolver slammed down before us, before lifting and beginning to spin. I was quaking, looking to Protégé for help or advice or...or anything, really!

But he sat there, silent and as withdrawn as he could be. Stripped of his uniform and eyepiece, reduced back to a rougher and more hurt pony, he just didn't cast that same easy confidence anymore. Even so, he met my eyes, eventually speaking quietly.

“I'm sorry, Murk.”

I gulped, nodding that I understood.

“I...I think it's...it's not you. The Master w-was going to d-do something anyway.”

Barb rolled his eyes. “Oh...gag...”

The revolver started to slow. Protégé looked up at me, shivering in pain from the multitude of large bruising wounds on his side. “He what?”

Tears dripping, I fought to muster the courage. This could well be my last few minutes. I had to say, come clean at last, let Protégé know that he'd been assailed from every direction, not just by Shackles! To say that Grindstone was—

The revolver stopped spinning, pointed at me. My train of thought derailed immediately, making me shriek and fall backwards from the weapon. My watcher caught me, shoving me back toward it.

“No turning away! It's your turn, pick it up!” The raider forced my hoof forward, until I felt the heavy weapon pressed into my grip. How Protégé's magic fired this so reliably I'd never know. I held it, crying over it, feeling every wound throb and my sickness grow from the added stress. But Protégé kept staring at me, as though silently trying to offer any courage he could. No. He was still the pony I could look up to.

Slowly, I raised the gun, pushing the barrel into my mouth to help support its weight. I looked to Barb.

“P-please...d-don't do all this.”

“Either beg louder so we can all hear and ignore or just get on with it, filly.”

There was no negotiation. Whimpering, closing my eyes, my hooves graced the trigger, the feeling making me whimper. Around me, some raiders chuckled, beginning to exchange more bets. The intensity of the moment was making me sweat, an odd heavy heat in the air even amongst the storm whirling outside.

Please. Please Goddesses, please...please let me—

Click.

Dropping the weapon, I cried out, my hooves waving and holding my own face in shock. I hadn't even realised I'd pulled it! Oh Goddesses. Oh no...oh boy...I...I...

“The game begins! Round TWO! Five cylinders remaining, two of them loaded!”

“Murk!” Protégé spoke sharply as I lay my head on the table, crying profusely. My eyes actually hurt from tearing up so much in such a short time. My gasps were just raspy coughs. “Murk! Stay. Strong. The griffons might—”

“The griffons will do nothing, colt-cuddler. I told you when you woke up in the kill room! Shackles is having a little chat with them as we speak.”

Protégé glared up, anger crossing his face, his surprisingly long mane waving around his head. “You trust Shackles? He saw fit to betray me, to betray somepony on the same side as him! What makes you think he won’t just let Stern and her griffons go ahead with their raid to remove a troublesome lying raider as well!?”

“He fears me, boy. They can’t catch me. He fears what I'd do if he tried. Everypony does—”

“Chainlink Shackles fears nopony! You don't ever consider yourself above him! That's his thing! He believes nopony is ever more controlling than he is! Your arrogance is blinding you to the— ARGH!”

The yellow raider mare made her presence known again, the pipe cracking against Protégé's damaged ribs. Barb nodded thankfully to her, before returning his gaze to the revolver. Slowly, it kept spinning, before finally settling on Protégé. My mas...or whatever he was to me, I didn't know, looked at it, before snatching it up in his own magic field. He took long breaths, hissing on each one, sucking the air in deeply. Simmering with frustration and nerves, he drew it up, turning the barrel against his own head before taking a breath.

“This will come to hurt you in the end, Barb.”

I saw the trigger begin to pull...tightening...tightening. I didn't want him to die, he didn't deserve it! But-but I didn't want to either...

His face screwed up, gritting his teeth. The raiders cheered at seeing any sort of tension or fear on his face. Seeing the proud master they'd laboured under so worked up and working to stay strong at all. I hated this so much, this was wrong, twisted, humiliating and sick and wrong and terrible and...and—

Click.

Breathing out, sinking into the chair, Protégé let the revolver rest again, dropping it the last foot from his telekinesis. The crowd jeered the second round's failure to fire. Even Protégé was shaking on the spot, I could tell how much courage it took him to do that. The atmosphere was mentally straining on him as much as I, what with us backed against this wet and exposed balcony by a mass of raiders.

“One more down! Round THREE! Four cylinders left with two bullets! Half and half time until off it goes!”

It immediately began spinning again, making me shiver every time the barrel passed by me. I just tried to look at Protégé, to find the courage to speak up. But seeing that defeated look in his eyes, knowing he'd been abandoned to this with me. It hurt so badly. My own terror wasn't helping, of course. It was all I could do to not become a mewling heap on the ground.

The revolver began spinning harder. I heard the raiders pick up their bets, larger sums of cash or ponies being promised and exchanged. One wanted my wings when I died. It was going to happen even if I survived. The gut wrenching sickness of that was only held back as I saw Protégé's face staring at me.

“I'm really s-sorry, Protégé...” I began stammering. A feeling was building in me, one last thing I could do before we died.

“...Murk?” He seemed surprised, looking up.

“I lied to y-you.”

Barb's eyes met mine sharply before grinning. He knew it as much as I. We were both dead anyway, it wouldn't harm anything now.

“It...it was The Master who hurt me. I'm so sorry! I was just scared! Scared like I always am!” My head fell into my hooves upon the table, sobbing. “I...I knew this might happen...but he told me not to say! He threatened me! Scared me! I couldn't resist him! I could have made this not happen!”

It all came out, even as the revolver began to slow down, arcing past my eyes with its barrel, I just kept telling it all. About the Stable, about Grindstone, and about what The Master did to me. I saw Protégé just stare back, unable to tell if he was hurt or feeling pity.

Then finally, the revolver stopped moving...pointed at me. I broke down further, only to feel a hoof stretch out and rest upon the side of my head. Glancing up, I saw it was Protégé.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Murk.” His voice was quiet, soft, and shaky through the tension of the moment. “You know what I am now...what I was. To not know choice or a will of your own. I know that...I...”

His eyes closed, before I saw one single tear form.

“I've been through the same before I earned my freedom. Murk, do not feel guilty. I understand.”

Those two words, those two beautiful words that for the first time in my life really meant something. Friends had said it, masters had implied it, many had believed it. But for the absolute first time ever did I now see a pony, a born slave, who could truly know. I wanted to ask so many questions, to spend time and just...just share in that understanding.

But Barb's hoof slammed down, separating us and his magic tossing us both back into our seats.

“All well and disgusting to my eyes, doesn't matter now! Filly? It's your turn! Careful with that trigger this time.” He sneered, bringing me crashing back to the horrific reality we were stuck in. Fifty-fifty chance with this one, the same chances Caduceus had had. Oh Goddesses, if it were to happen now...

“Pick it up!”

“Please, I—”

“I said pick it up!”

“PLEASE! Don't do this! I don't want to d—”

“Pick it up!” The revolver slammed into my hooves, hard and stinging, tossed by his magic. Almost falling off my chair, my head twisting to avoid the impact; I saw Glimmer staring over, her eyes wet and a look of absolute horror on her face. She'd lost somepony already, we both had, but now she was watching another of her friends go through it.

“Do it!” Barb's hoof impacted on the table, making me shriek in shock, turning back to look at the gun. Crying openly, I began to pick it up properly, hearing the raiders chant to 'DO IT!' over and over. Protégé just looked on in despair, clearly frustrated and hurt beyond measure at the inability to escape this.

Slowly, tasting the metallic tang and residue from the last shot that killed Caduceus, I placed the barrel in my mouth. My heartbeat seemed to grow louder, thumping, growing faster as the panic set in. Whimpering, whining, I just sat and shook with my eyes closed. Part of me began to hope that I was even holding this right. The thought of not actually being killed outright made my entire body shiver in horror.

My hoof closed upon the trigger, the chant and beat of my heart only growing louder each time. Be brave. Be brave like Caduceus. My teeth chattered on the barrel, that loose one stinging even as I cried out and pulled the trigger, hoping it-

BLAM!

My head exploded into agony. My entire body fell away from the chair, and I landed surrounded by blood. Screaming, wailing, and thrashing at the immense searing pain that had blown through my head, as I clutched my hooves to my mouth and howled into them. The sound reverberated in the air, echoing and making my ears hurt even...even...

Quaking on the ground, the pain started to fade quickly, replaced with the harsh sound of my ears being assaulted by raider laughter. Above me, Barb stood with a second revolver that had gone off just behind my ears. The blood below me was from Caduceus.

He winked.

“Always gets them, every time!”

They simply laughed.

I broke down on the spot, the horror of the cruel joke and fake execution stretching my courage far past the breaking point. I didn't care if they even laughed at me any more. They would not let me lie however. Two raiders picked me up. I fought, trying to pull away. I cracked one in the shin, trying to pull myself nearer the balcony, but their magic gripped my mid-section tightly, pulling me back to the seat and returning the revolver to the table. My face felt sticky with Caduceus' blood from the floor. I could barely sit upright, crying and falling forward, my nose running and throat hiccuping painfully. Like a foal begging for something from their mother, I couldn't stop the simple wish from crying forth.

“Please just let me go!”

“Guess what? NO! HAHA!” The raider to my right knocked me in the head. Immediately before me, the revolver began spinning again. The game was still on.

“Round FOUR! Three cylinders left with two bullets! More bullets than not now, my friends! Get your intense bets in now for which one's gonna buy it first!”

“MURK!” Brimstone's voice bellowed above all of the raiders. “You can pull through this. Remember what I first said to you!”

The shout felt so rare, for Brimstone to offer any sort of cry amongst his old peers. But my memory, in a moment of strange accuracy, did remember the first line. I'd been a mess in the Pit, quivering on the spot in the presence of my icon herself. Terrified to die, in an inescapable position. What was it he had said?

“Put on a braver face there. Don't let them have the pleasure.”

It wasn't the words that meant so much, it was the reminder. That one moment when I had been inspired beyond all others at the sight of the Stable Dweller escaping Fillydelphia before my eyes. A sobering thought, to face it with better dignity.

I could be braver...I could...I—

A knife descended into the table, narrowly missing my hoof. Broken from any recovery, I screamed, clutching my shoulder out of habit.

“Stop spacing out there, filly.” Barb whispered into my ear, “I don't want my lot to have anything but you at your most terrified and pathetic. I know who you really are inside, so just let it out.”

Whimpering, seeing Brimstone growl and stomp at his chains again, to absolutely no avail, I could sense his frustration. But Barb had me where he wanted me. The knife slid up my leg as he drew it away, causing another filly-like whine to emanate from my mouth. His audience was getting what they wanted, the absolute humiliation of two ponies. One of shattered pride, one of sadistic breaking.

The revolver was still spinning. Wavering in that shadowy grip. Finally, hauntingly, it came to rest upon Protégé. Breathing heavily and quickly, he just stared at it, his chest panting hard. Gripping it in his telekinesis again, the barrel raised.

“Barb. This won't end well for you. Shackles and Grindstone don't care for anypony but themselves! Even then they'll be in it for their individual benefit, I'll bet. You'll gain nothing from this in the end, that I—”

“Oh, get on with it!” Barb wickedly laughed, slapping the table. “Pull the trigger! Let's see how much of that big brain really can come out!”

Scowling, frustrated beyond measure, I saw his eyes return to me. Protégé still breathed quickly and harshly. Fighting to stop himself shaking, sweating enough that his mane was becoming bedraggled. He fixed me with a sad stare.

“If...if this is it, please, just one thing.”

“...y-yes?”

He hesitated, his eyes momentarily avoiding mine.

“Then I...I hope my impression upon you was not that of a tyrant, Murk...”

It took me a few attempts to muster any words, my throat beginning to clam up. My vision was hazy, but I could still see those two pale red eyes sadly staring at me. Slowly, I shook my head, and I meant it.

“It wasn't.”

Something softened in his expression. A sense of bittersweet relief.

“Then, perhaps that's one regret I can rest easy upon, should this be...”

Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, the revolver pressed firmly on his temple, Protégé hissed deeply and took one great last breath.

“Don't lose sight. You can be free, Murk. I've never said it, but I know you can do it. My way or your own...”

I wanted to rush over, to grab hold of that gun and move it so badly, but a rifle barrel touched the back of my neck. I could only watch him, watch as he began seething at the mouth and pulling the trigger hard.

Click.

The entire gathering of raiders went stock still, before exploding in sheer excitement. Protégé simply sat, stunned. Every odd had been against the last empty chamber being next, but it had been. That meant...oh no...that meant—

“ROUND FIVE! SUDDEN DEATH! Two cylinders and two bullets! All bets up!”

This...this was it.

Behind me, knowing the stakes, I heard Brimstone lash at his chains. His legs were bleeding from the effort, harming himself in every effort to get free. Waving his raiders away, Barb gazed over at the massive figure.

“Oh don't even try, traitor. You couldn't break that metal in your prime fifteen years ago when we all had that big laugh, never mind as the washed up, old, and declining bastard you are now. What are you? Fifty five? Sixty? Hah, I made sure it's the same stuff we scavenged out of the yards. It goes right through the wall to hold on the other side too. You are not moving. Besides...”

He nodded to a nearby raider carrying a sledgehammer, the same they had used on the virtually unmoving Ragini. With a sick grin, the hammer swung around, impacting directly over the still bleeding bullet wound on his chest. Roaring loudly in anger more than pain, Brimstone still fell to the floor.

“Can't pull anything with a wound like that on your chest. Now, back to our game.”

Barb grinned at me, seeing my look of horror.

“What? Oh, I'm sorry, was he your last hope here? That the big old Brim would swing into action? Forget it. Nopony's coming to help you. Now, time to spin the gun!”

Slamming it down again, the drama of thumping it before us never getting old with the raiders, I just gazed across at Protégé with tear filled eyes. I knew I was giving that pleading look to end this, to stop it all somehow, but I couldn't help it. It was the Pit all over again, the inevitable inescapability of it all crashing down on my emotions, turning me into a blubbering wreck.

For his part, my master just continued to stare at me, breathing hard from his wounded ribs and trying to keep my eyes focussed on him rather than the gun as it moved achingly irregularly...side to side...spinning...spinning...

It began slowing.

“Murk, look at me.”

I couldn't, the gun was—

“Look at me!” His authoritative tone returned, briefly.

My eyes snapped upwards to see Protégé with an intense look, ignoring all the raiders stomping around him, each trying to pry through for a better look.

“Pro-Protégé, I...I...”

“Just keep looking at me. Don't look at them. Don't let them get to you, Murk. Look at me.”

The gun began to wind down, moving deathly slow in arcs to face either way. But my eyes avoided it at last, focussing on Protégé.

“You're a stronger pony than you know. You've come this far, Murk. Even if...even if something ends today, you can be proud. I'm proud of you.”

“Please, I don't want to—”

The revolver barrel slowly moved just a bit further, achingly slow as it faced me...

...then Protégé.

...then back to me.

I didn't even move, I just stared at the inevitable conclusion. Murky Number Seven, that unlucky corruption of the number and victim to the life that had been nothing but toil and pain the entire way, all to end tonight at the barrel of a gun in my mouth.

To be born a slave, you know of only two endings. The quick execution that brings your life to a close, or the long sickness and exhaustion until you finally keel over on the job. I now knew which was to be mine. A life of slavery, given a flash of hope at the end, but finishing today.

Strangely, a form of clarity overcame me that...that I was somewhat okay with it. I'd screamed, wailing that I didn't want to die.

But the idea of a quick bullet to the brain, one flare and it all being finally over...all the pain, the starvation and sickness...finally peace...

My hooves lifted the gun. Slowly, I placed it in my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Glimmerlight crying openly, battering the cage door in sheer despair. It hurt to leave her behind. Protégé too seemed pained that it was me and not him. Brimstone merely looked lost, like a part of what was helping him was about to disappear forever.

My hoof found the trigger. I didn't really want to go. Hope was still there, screaming in my breast to keep fighting, to look for some way out! I could escape still! I had...I had my friends all here! I couldn't leave them, I couldn't. I couldn't...but I had no say any more.

My wet eyes turned across all of my friends, imagining them all as much as seeing them.

“...I'm sorry.”

The barrel was pushed into my mouth more fully. I had to do this right.

‘The mare, alone and searching for the one close to her, or hopefully having found him. They'd promised to come for me, they would be searching for the already dead...’

Slipping around the trigger, I began to push.

‘Glimmerlight and Brimstone, the most unlikely pair of friends to ever grace the wasteland, their efforts to get out losing one of their number forever...’

With one last effort, screaming out as I did so, all the pain coming out, I pulled harder.

‘Protégé, witnessing the one born slave who understood him killing himself before his eyes.’

Goodbye...goodbye all...

...and let it end.

Click.

Three seconds. That was how long it took my brain to process what had happened, but they lasted longer in my mind than I could bear to stand.

Nothing. It...it hadn't fired.

My scream faded, the gun dropping limply in my hooves. Protégé was awestruck, the raiders silent.

Then Barb revealed a bullet in his hoof, and grinned.

“Oops. Old habits die hard, hoofed the round when I last held the revolver, dumb filly. So...”

He narrowed his eyes, that mad grin spreading.

“How's it feel to have committed suicide and know you did it?”

I...there were no words. I just started shaking, realisation and horror beginning to take shape. My mouth quivered, eyes widening, unable to cry any more than I already was. Small, strangled sounds escaped my throat. I heard the revolver clatter to the floor from my shaking hooves.

I'd just....Oh Goddesses forgive me! I'd actually pulled the trigger.

It was the control tower all over again, only I'd gone over the edge. What had I just done? I felt anger bubble inside, at myself for knowing I'd been ok with it. To know that a part of me still saw that sort of thing as a nice, easy way out that I'd ever consider. Oh Celestia, that thought terrified me more than any raider.

What had I done?

Still shaking terribly, sniffling, and whimpering ever louder, I eventually just cried out, feeling a wash of self-hatred and shame come over me. I wanted to find somepony, to grab them and hold them, and just cry and cry. To curl up with Glimmerlight, or feel Caduceus' comforting grip or even just fall into Protégé's shoulder again, anypony.

“Aww, look at 'em! I think we upset the little thing, lads! Oh, I'm a bad pony.” Barb cackled, relishing in the opportunity to just completely screw with my head and emotions. “But the game isn't over. We've still got one more cylinder, and I know there’s still one in this time! You've got to keep playing little Murk. You don't get to cry and run away now!”

“I don't want to—”

“You will! Spin the gun!”

Following his own instruction, the shadowy magic began to pick up over the revolver again. Building speed, faster than ever before, the modified firearm began to whirl and blur on the spot.

“Round and round the revolver goes...” Barb chanted, the raiders joining in. “...who it'll kill, no pony knows!Last round! There's no tricks or jokes here. Just one bullet and a chosen pony!”

Even Protégé couldn't keep his eyes off the weapon, glancing up to me occasionally. From the look on his face, watching me pull that trigger had drawn harsh emotions from him too. But both of us were simply silent now, both knowing that the weapon would pick one of us.

Back and forth...round and round...barrel...grip...barrel...grip...barrel...grip...

Eventually, it began to slow. The barrel drifted more lazily, flying on the momentum of the spin and slowing after every turn. Heart in my mouth, tears and sweat dripping off my face onto the table, my eyes just stared unblinking at it. I couldn't do it again. If it picked me I knew I couldn't.

It was time, the barrel was stopping...

...pointed directly at me.

...before shifting, slowly, the last bits of energy to creep around one more half turn to point directly at my master.

I would have looked up, to gaze with apologies and words, fighting to know what I should say to him, whether I should thank him or just stay silent, or tell him that I was glad to have met him in here. That I'd try to remember him or do something for him.

But the barrel had one last tiny eek of momentum still. So slowly that it stretched every emotion to just see it gradually moving and juddering, before coming back to me and finally stopping.

It was me.

The raiders erupted into cheering and screaming. Bets were thrown back and forward already with the end result chosen. Arguments started, whooping and promises drifting between them. But I just sat and stared at the revolver. That same revolver that had stopped the closest bid for freedom I'd ever made.

Would ever make.

I felt myself shaken by the raider behind me, pointing a hoof at the gun. Shivering, I picked it up under duress of punishment, holding the weighty revolver in my hooves. This...this wasn't...no, it wasn't fair. I was supposed to escape...

Glancing upwards and unsteadily holding the gun, I saw Protégé only look sad; trying to maintain his posture under the oppressive atmosphere. The storm's wind circling in through the skylight whipped that mane across his face, sometimes hiding those pained eyes. He was a born slave, the one who sought freedom in, if anything, a differing story to my own. A grander story of the slave who rose out of the pits to be somepony more.

One I may have to now accept would go on while my own ended here, after finally having made a decision to come here to try and help ponies.

“We're all waiting, filly. Not going to show you're just a complete coward? Come on, you did it once. Let's see that brain matter fly! Probably the only flying you'll ever do!”

My master glanced angrily to Barb, taking the raider chieftain's glare without so much as flinching.

“You're nothing but a blight to all ponies, Barb. You think this is going to help Equestria at all? That there's some purpose?”

“On the contrary, I don't care. Equestria's dead and gone. Might as well get on board the fucked-up-train of the future, boy! I'm the conductor here and I say it ends here for him.”

I had never seen my master scowl quite so much. Real, proper anger.

“I swear to you, raider, give me half a chance, and I wouldn't even care what your cronies did. That bullet would be for you.”

Barb merely chuckled, patting Protégé's shoulder dismissively. “I think not.”

He nodded to the clan, from where a dozen weapons pointed at Protégé immediately. Oddly, my master looked more to me than them, frowning.

“You so much as raise the gun to me, you'll be gone before you know it. We're rough and ready, but we aren't without our skill, y'see. Oh and filly?”

My hooves were still holding the gun, not wanting to move it to my mouth. I couldn't...but on the mention of his nickname, I looked up, quivering.

“Don't think about trying to hoof the bullet or something either. I can feel the weight of the round in it, or lack of, should you even try to remove it. Oh, that bullet's only going one place. Now come on kiddo. Get it done!”

The raider behind me began forcing my hooves upwards, ramming the barrel into my mouth and jarring against my loose tooth and swollen gums from their previous beating. Mumbling in pain through the heavy metal barrel almost choking me, I felt my hoof raised to the trigger and left to do the pushing on the strange, inverted customised grip. I was terrified my shaking would set it off, unwilling to apply pressure.

I didn't want to die.

I didn't want to die.

The well of emotion began surging up, hatred and shame that I'd pulled that trigger once, it only reminded me of that horrible voice deep down that always whispered, telling me about the one choice every slave always had to make it all end at last. To cast yourself into the oblivion and the embrace of the Goddesses and pray they'll forgive you for doing it. To even think it was still in there made me want to be...to be...

I did. Falling to the side, convulsing as my sickness crept up and left me in a fit of coughing and retching, my blood mixing with Caduceus'. I landed upon the floor, the revolver falling beneath me and clattering into the granite ground. Spitting red, struggling to breathe, my kicking hooves caught those trying to force me back up on the shins or knees. A wave of fresh terror approached as I felt myself almost go blind, eyes rolling back as the pain and tightness in my lungs and chest flared up. It lasted for some time, almost half a minute, before finally the convulsions passed, leaving me exhausted, bloody and dying.

I was pulled up, my hooves fumbling below me with the revolver to keep it with me. They left me lying against the balcony, my back to the long drop and the storm above.

“I can't do it.”

“Oh you will.”

“I can't do it!” I screamed aloud. “I...”

Looking up with blood dripping from my lips, still shaking violently inside and liable to expire any minute without my RadAway, I caught Protégé's eye. I couldn't do this myself. I...

“I want...I want Protégé to do it. It's only one shot, he'd…” I sobbed. “He’ll do it right...”

My master’s mouth dropped open. “Murk, you—”

“Please!” I half shouted. “I...I can't do it. They'll only make it worse if...if I don't take the bullet. Please, just make it quick...”

The last words were nought but a whisper. But I saw him finally look at me, sigh, and nod. Barb chuckled again, trotting to grab the revolver from me. The raiders raised their guns the moment Protégé took it, guarding him.

“I think we'd all like to see this. The master forced to execute the one slave he really began to like? How wonderful! I almost wish I'd thought of it, filly. Now get to work my dear 'master.'”

Stepping aside, he waved a hoof for Protégé to approach me. Gripping the revolver in his telekinesis with a steady familiarity, the unicorn glared at the raider leader, before standing up. His eyes travelled to every raider there was, silently seeming to voice his disgust of them. Pointing their weapons back, they just grinned around the mouth grips. Slowly, keeping his head high, Protégé trotted toward me, and knelt down.

Everything other than the storm had gone silent. Each sharp sound of his hooves closing toward me like an individual movement closer to the end.

“Murk, I...I just don't know what to say.”

Trying to calm my own shivering, I stared back toward him. The rain was dripping around us, itching and stinging, but that didn't matter now.

“S-sorry. I j-just couldn't do this...too scared of it...of it hurting. I never wanted to die badly.”

“Nopony does. I...I'll make sure it won't hurt, I promise.”

He pushed over, beside me. Without really knowing why, I felt myself leaning into him, and felt one of his hooves wrap around my shoulders tightly. I was so scared about what was going to happen, but it felt a little better knowing he was there when I couldn't even see my other friends through the crush of raiders, eagerly awaiting the sight they would be entertained by.

“Never wanted it to go like this. I regret I couldn't have, no...I wish I could have let you go, Murk. But, Master Red Eye—”

“I know.”

Opening my eyes briefly, I saw him looking down, rainwater dripping from his mane.

“Born slave, remember?”

His mouth seemed to lightly curl up at my words. We were even...understanding. Slowly, I felt the barrel press lightly against my temple at a certain angle. Oh, so that was the better way then. I trusted him.

“I didn't want it to end this way, Murk. M-Master Red Eye gave me a chance. Stuck by me, kept me alive, and guided me to the freedom at the end. To make the choice for myself to go or stay. I...I wanted...”

Oh Goddesses. To see the pain in his eyes.

“...I wanted to do the same for you. I saw so much of myself from the moment we first met; when I told you that you needed to know freedom. I tried to give you what I could of it, give you choices. Allow you those reckless moments to roam free into the crater or the hospital because I knew it was teaching you the one thing that mattered. You impressed me so many times, more than anypony else. I won't forget you...”

Clutching tightly, I heard the trigger begin to move, shivering as the moment approached. I felt so sorry to put him through this. Oh, Protégé, but it just has to be you...I couldn't do this part myself.

The revolver’s chamber began to move.

I closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth, gripping him tightly. And then...

Click.

Silence. Absolute silence. My eyes crept open, seeing the stunned look on Protégé's face as the gun did not fire. But even more was the look of abject shock from Barb. The leader stood among his raiders, where their jaws had dropped, some with their weapons drooping to the floor. They turned, looking away or between themselves as the reality of the moment finally landed home.

“...what?”

Barb looked from side to side, his dumbfounded slaves shaking their heads or murmuring. The guards were chattering to each other, did it misfire? A bad bullet?

“...WHAT!?”

Barb stormed forward two steps, fury overtaking his expression. Then he found my eyes, he saw my look. That cheeky look that meant I'd done something to the gun.

“You...you little! You did something when you had that gun below you on the ground! But the bullet was still in it! I felt the weight myself!”

Coughing once, I just glared back up, with a brief intense stare to Protégé.

“I didn't take it out...”

Barb's eyebrow raised, my eyes moving back to him.

“...I just moved it one chamber along.”

Picking up on the momentum faster than any of the raiders, Protégé swept up, the confused guards rifles not immediately pointed at us. The barrel swept around, aiming as he spoke.

“Lucky number seven you sadistic son of a bitch!”

The revolver finally went off in an angry roar, lighting the entire darkened restaurant with the huge muzzle flare. Barb dove to the side. The bullet slapped into his shoulder, and hurled the chieftain back into the guard who had watched me. Dropping his rifle, Protégé's magic swept it up, dumping half the rounds into the ground with a painfully loud burst of echoing gunfire, sweeping just in front of the raiders on the floor. The sparking rounds made them lurch backward, clearing away from us. He began pointing it back and forward at them before they got their own ones up from their confusion.

“Don't move! Anyone wants a shot, you'll get one to the face before it kills me!”

Finally, their weapons were re-aimed, the wounded Barb hissing for them to keep us guarded. Protégé backed off to the balcony barrier, pulling me behind him. His eyes left none of the raiders, swinging the rifle back and forth rapidly.

“You stupid buck. You stupid, idiot colt-fondling little fucker!” Barb bellowed, limping forward, his shoulder bleeding rapidly. “You think you can pull something? We've got you covered! You two are fucking dead for this! You've got nowhere to go! Nothing but half a mag left and no plan worth a damn that won't have you caught and tortured till I make you scream like the filly!”

We were backed in, the raiders advancing till we were completely surrounded. Our backs to the wall, Protégé keeping me guarded behind him. I felt the wind behind us off the plaza balcony, the long drop, swirling banners, and lashing leaks of rain to our rear providing a violent backdrop to our shaky position from the perspective of the raider gang keeping us trapped. Protégé ground his teeth, valiantly keeping me defended before the thirty or so weapons aimed directly at our precarious little position.

My master's eyes glanced from side to side, the rifle following them, held close even in his magic field. Barb only sneered, but Protégé remained steadfast, working through with nothing but desperation. Then I caught him out of the corner of his eye, a little glance and curl of his mouth.

“Maybe you're right.”

To my horror, he raised the gun upwards, the wind blowing at his mane ever more violently, as though giving up. But before Barb could even shout the command to take us, Protégé pulled the trigger. Half a magazine's rifle rounds soared upwards, shattering the skylight and punching toward the roof.

“Maybe we have nothing...” he began to speak softly, “...but maybe neither do you. I told you, Shackles isn't going to fear you like anypony sane would. You're wearing my eyepiece. I'm surprised you haven't been wondering what that little counter at the top is. The one that started counting down from sixty about fifty minutes ago when I set the timer.”

I saw Barb's eye flick up, before scowling.

“What of it!?”

“Sixty minutes to end this before the griffons came in. I'd hoped we'd last the full sixty before now, so you've sort of forced my hoof a little.”

Then he smiled.

“I'll bet those griffons are up there right now around the skylight, preparing to raid. And I just gave them a good reason to go ten minutes early.”

Barb's mouth opened to bellow a command, but it was lost amongst the explosive chaos that Protégé had lit the fuse to.

A great roar of detonation bellowed through the plaza from above. One whole section of the skylight blasted in, sending millions of shards of glass cascading down amidst the rain and smoke. As one, a dozen griffons dropped in, firing as they came into the mass of raiders that had so conveniently gathered in such a tight cluster around Protégé and I.

We dived to the ground, Protégé dragging me below him as the massive anti-machine rounds tore through the raiders, two or even three in a line. Barb had disappeared almost instantly, his raiders falling to the ground in droves. The griffons whirled in the air, rounding off and dodging the little incoming fire to let their second wave divebomb in after them under the cover of the first.

Protégé grabbed a broken and fallen rifle, tugging the magazine off for his own before opening fire, knocking one raider off her feet while she galloped for us. Firing in short bursts, he held the raiders off me, keeping me safe behind the cover of the balcony. Even so, I still managed to turn and buck one raider really hard (by my standards) in the only place I properly knew how. My little hooves got right in between the legs to deliver a satisfying crunch, the raider going down, his voice as high as mine. (Karma, for once!)

The incoming griffon fire was less now that the raiders had rushed off in all directions to take cover. Many griffons had landed on the opposite balconies to snipe across. Heavy rounds rocketed above us, decapitating raiders and chewing the restaurant to pieces. I hoped they knew to watch for us.

“Murk, careful!”

Two raiders turned their guns on me, hiding low themselves. One snapped back from Protégé's last round, the second snapped away, before re-aiming, snarling.

An azure light overtook his weapon. Every pin, nut, bolt, and part coming apart in his mouth until he was left with nothing but a trigger (that he still pulled, in dejection). The barrel upturned, smacking him in the face. Behind him, Glimmerlight's horn glowed from the cage, before she began screaming at me to get to cover. Both Ragini and Brimstone had grabbed whoever was nearest, talons or massive hooves ending their lives quickly.

Three others attempted to rush together. But a magical spark and crackling sounded out, before a blast of overpressure blew across the room. The three were sent spiralling through the air, along with multiple chairs, clean off the balcony edge to tumble to the ground. Coral Eve, exhausted, her horn blackened around the tip and barely able to stand, snarled at the results of her telekinetic wave blast.

The combination of griffon fire and our efforts within the restaurant had mostly cleared it of raiders in less than a minute. Most had fled or died in the initial barrage, but it was almost ours! One sniper shot missed a raider, making him duck down and scramble to two of his comrades behind a table. Continuing on its path, the shot snapped one of Brimstone's chains. Free to bring more weight and strength to bear, the warlord began tugging, making the concrete crack behind him on the remaining chain across his foreleg. Pent up rage, anger and frenzy was oozing off him, so much so the big pony seemed able to ignore the wound upon his chest. It quickly became clear how he'd stayed at the top of the pack so damn long.

“Get him!”

Three raiders, dodging under the incoming fire that made everything above the thick balcony wall a killzone, took aim at the escaping Brimstone. Then, with a mighty roar, the last chain sprung free, swirling around as he pulled the entire thing from the wall, a massive chunk of concrete with it. The large rock pulverised the raiders, smashing one’s head and cannonballing through the other two. Bellowing his warcry, their old leader stormed into them, wielding the two chains in his forehooves like flails that snapped bones and tore at flesh.

With Brimstone free, even wounded, the battle swung so hard in our direction that it lasted little more than a few more seconds. Protégé signalled to the griffons, who raised their rifles in recognition before soaring off to hunt down the remaining raiders.

The restaurant was clear.

“We...we did it...we did it!” I fell to the floor, gasping from exhaustion before rampantly coughing. Springing free when Brimstone shattered the lock, Glimmerlight immediately galloped to the restaurant serving window. Throwing bags and satchels to the side, she seemed to know where they had kept their loot. Feeling my chest tighten, I only caught a brief glimpse of her charging across, her magic already ripping open a sachet. Grabbing and hugging me tightly, pushing the opening to my mouth, I grabbed it and let the rank orange taste fill my mouth. Faster than I'd ever done, I downed the liquid, simply leaning in and holding Glimmerlight in return.

Up close, I could see the marks, swellings, and bruises brought back fresh since the healing potions we'd found. Around us, Brimstone and Protégé began to scavenge our weapons back, while other griffons arrived to secure Ragini and free her. I could hear them gasp in horror, swearing revenge upon her attacker.

But Glimmerlight and I just held one another, unable to really say anything. We both knew the reason, who we were mourning together. Blinking open one eye, I saw Coral Eve watching us, seeming surprised, startled even at the way Glimmerlight was acting. But seeing me look back, she simply turned away, looking ready to collapse.

A streaked white griffon landed beside Protégé, scanning the doorways with his rifle.

“The slaves have moved further into the plaza. We'll take it from here, sir. They won't get out of here alive.”

“No! The raiders have moved in, but they have taken slaves as living shields. Remember the difference! Your assault will only—”

Protégé argument was cut short. Gunfire broke out out on the plaza again, further back and around the corner, an area only used for simple slave living space. I hadn't even really been there before. I’d only seen it briefly from the stairs. But it was a dead end, a last stand the raiders had retreated to.

“No survivors! That's the orders from the top, Protégé! Stern's up on the roof if you want to check with her! They ruined a sister's wings. They will die for this!”

“Not every slave is—”

The griffon took off, leaving Protégé stamping in frustration.

“DAMN YOU!”

My master, bleeding, tired, and still shaking on sheer adrenaline, swung away from the griffon's as he began to grab what ammunition for his revolver as he could.

“Not on my watch. Nopony else innocent will die today! If Barb is taken down, the rest will likely surrender, right Brimstone?”

The gruff raider nodded curtly, fishing around the loot the raiders had acquired. His brass hooves were returned to him for now, as was my pack, fleece and battle saddle (Thank the Goddesses!). He also located a few healing potions, just enough to get everyone stabilised. Brimstone himself took one for his chest wound, stamping the ground as his strength returned.

“Not if. When. I'm going to crush that little upstart.”

The name earned him an odd glance from Protégé. Somehow, I felt he had chosen it on purpose to wind up the slaver. But they nodded to one another, knowing that at least the two of them would go this extra mile.

No, not alone.

We both knew we had to. Slipping my fleece, weapon, and saddlebag back on, I joined Glimmerlight as we trotted forward as well. The unicorn was retrieving her rifle and some scavenged ammunition. A green magic energy pistol lying on the ground was added to her hoof holster in replacement of the sidearm she'd carried in and lost.

Barb had done too much, hurt too many. I wasn't any good in a fight, but I wasn't going to abandon my friends. If the most I did was simply listen for anypony flanking or distract them a little, it would be enough.

The slaves still trapped deserved it be done.

Caduceus deserved it to be finished for all he had given.

Together, the four of us galloped out and toward the end of the plaza. Behind us, I saw Coral Eve watching once more, before turning back to start helping the slaves fortify their position and wait for healers.

* * *

The griffons had been stalled. The dead end was a perfect defensive point from the main plaza, all the way at the back of the slave area. Raiders had left dozens of barricades across it, strewing the way in with sharpened metal shapes on the floor to prevent wild assault charges. It was no obstacle to griffons, but if they took to the air, they also lost all their cover and became bigger targets with extended wings. We found them ducked behind pillars and higher balconies, fighting on all levels in a vertical battle to push forward.

The raiders clearly had stockpiled the ammo they had stolen, most of it being down there. One large tripod gun (why had that been in the guardroom to be stolen?) had been set up and surrounded by thick plates to lay misery upon any who strayed into the middle. Its heavy death-rattle coincided with solid flooring and pillars being torn up and decimated. I could see two or three griffons lying mangled upon the floor, their armour buckled and shredded. One was being pulled back in, after a couple of Talons courageously rushed out and grabbed their wounded ‘sister’.

We approached up the side, Protégé taking in their tactics at a glance.

“The griffons will be readying up a firestorm of heavy rounds to batter through those barricades, explosives, and everything. It'll kill every hostage and raider without care! Likely the heavy weapons are being brought up as we speak. We don't have much time.”

The unicorn looked around, before settling on one of the shop cells on the side.

“In there!”

We followed his orders, respect as much as rank. The shop cell was dank, stinking of waste and filled with muddy looking mattresses. Suddenly I was very glad for the couch we had.

“The wall in here is cracked, probably weak.”

Protégé tapped the wall closest to the direction of the raiders, looking up and down it.

“How do you know that in such detail? There's a hundred cells in here.” Glimmerlight asked as we moved in. Indeed, it was cracked, just as he had said.

Protégé just turned, glancing at the mattresses with an oddly familiar gaze.

“Two years is a long time to remember every detail. Now, if we can get some explosives or some large metal object to wedge in we could—”

“COMING THROUGH!”

We dived aside, landing on the musty beds as Brimstone clattered past, charging the wall at full pelt. It didn't even slightly stop him. Only one cinderblock thick, and coated in the cracked plaster, the wall simply disappeared in a big, Brim-shaped, hole.

“...that works too.” Protégé seemed a little bewildered, his elaborate plan suddenly becoming a little pointless.

“Don't worry, he does that a lot. You should see him and terminals.” Glimmerlight winked to the unicorn as she cantered after Brim. I followed with a rather perplexed Protégé in tow.

Rarity's Grace felt snug at my side. With great effort, I'd reloaded it on the way, springing the top of the shielded three-shot drum open to carefully hoof the small rounds in. Flicking my front left hoof, the mouthpiece sprang out and around to the right position. The rooms beyond the shop cell were not open to the plaza, perhaps the back of another storage area that merely shared the same walls. Large crates and small cubicle offices passed us on all sides on the final run to find a way in behind the raider position.

Eventually, we found a doorway made of thick steel and heavily locked. Brimstone hammered on it, bucking with brass hooves and all. At most, it dented slightly. But by the side lay a terminal. Glimmerlight leapt to work, tip-tapping away madly. While she worked, Protégé turned back to us.

“Right. Barb will be in there somewhere. The sooner we kill him, the sooner this battle is over. I know we all want a shot at him, but remember those slaves need somepony to protect them.”

He dumped a small sack he'd been carrying. It had a dozen looted weapons from the restaurant.

“We get these to the slaves and do what we can to protect them while we get Barb, whoever spots and gets to him first. But no agendas. Who gets the chance takes it, but the slaves need protecting. Understood?”

The door clicked, the locks retracted. Glimmerlight spun off of it, leaning on her hind legs against the terminal. You'd never have thought she had just been through what we had been. I was still shaking at the mere thought of any gun right now. I didn't want to see one up close for a long, long time.

“Gotcha. Now, we doin' this?”

Pausing for only a second, almost seeming to regard himself for a second, looking at his own cutie mark, Protégé nodded.

“We are.” He approached the door, took a breath...

...and went for it.

Piling through the doorway, we emerged behind the raiders. The door had been a staff entrance, exiting directly onto the plaza itself. The raiders were but ten feet away to our right, nestled at the very back of the plaza. Our first shots took a good half dozen off their feet. Or rather, Glimmer and Protégé's shots. Brimstone leapt immediately into them from from the rear, charging from barricade to barricade.

But I hung back, watching and waiting from the shadows. After a second, I realised I wasn't alone. Where we'd emerged couldn't have been luckier. The slaves were right here! Just off to the other side of the door I saw the vast majority of them cowering under gunfire. Some had been hit bad.

I galloped up to them, dragging Protégé's bag while hoping against hope my three friends could hold off the raiders. I began tossing out pistols and sawn off shotguns to the ponies willing to take them. The injured I pointed to the doorway. Many of them were terrified, but they obeyed my hurried pointing and shoouting, too afraid and hurt to argue. I couldn't blame them. Without the others, I'd have been among them.

They were all that gave me the courage to go on.

Behind me, Brimstone's warcry echoed amongst the plaza. He dove over the last barricade, charging directly for one pony.

Barb.

Amongst the confusion, the raiders' position had shattered. Those on the balconies above were still holding the griffons back, and I could see more slaves being held around the barricades as cover. We'd gotten a large amount of them here, but Barb had to go down. It would be a massacre of innocents if not. The raiders on this level were too busy keeping the griffons at check to bring every gun to bear back on our flank attack, so Brimstone had a clear shot at their chieftain. The thin unicorn had been guiding them from the front, but upon seeing the rival raider rush him, drew a knife and leapt forward. He must have had healing too. The revolver wound had disappeared.

Tearing across their lines, Brimstone reared, swinging the chained blade upon his brass hoof to whip out. His opponent leapt, but had to duck from a griffon bullet whipping overhead. Feeling my hopes leap, Brimstone's chain snapped around Barb and slammed the side of the blade into his neck. I saw him yanked toward Brimstone with enough force I thought his spine would just snap! Half way into the air, Barb seemed to glide out of the chains with unnatural grace, sliding through the strong shadows and dust of battle to instead leap, knives bared, at my friend.

This was a whole new kind of fight. I'd seen Brim take on brute strength, but here I saw a clash between vastly differing raiders. Under the harsh light and strong shadows, Brimstone fought an enemy who was elusive and wily. His massive hooves swung fast and strong, but only ever seemed to catch Barb's faded edges as his shadow spells took effect. In return, the brass hooves deflected wicked knife strikes that launched from behind or the sides. It was taking all of Brimstone's experience and often forgotten intelligence to predict and react to Barb's sneak attacks. Clearly, Brimstone had long kept combating this menace in mind as the target for any leadership challenge.

But while he fought, Glimmerlight and Protégé were being pinned down. Protégé waved over to me.

“Murk! We need those grenades you've got! Try to get to me!”

The slaves behind me seemed to be able to hold their position, ranking way lower than the griffons for the attention of the raiders remaining on this level. I began trying to sneak as best I could, sticking to behind barricades and scooting along the back wall. Protégé wasn't far, but griffon anti-machine fire was slapping across this same area above my head. Eventually, rolling painfully across my wings, I came to be beside the unicorn. Digging in my saddlebag, I found the two apple shaped grenades we could—

The moment I even reached for them, Glimmer screamed.

“INCOMING! DOWN! GET DOWN!”

We hit the deck hard, the eerie whistle of a rocket tearing down the plaza. I saw it whip between Barb and Brimstone, separating them with the concussive blast that knocked both of them back and took out the heavy machine gun position. Shrapnel flew everywhere, savagely laying low both raiders and slaves.

Everyone, slave, slaver and raider, staggered to their hooves again. In the wide plaza, I saw various groups stare at one another, grabbing their weapons again, trying to find cover amongst the battlefield.

“Bloodletters! Shades! To me and kill the traitor!” Barb's voice hissed through the air, calling a dozen ponies from the shadows that flowed across the battleground, his elite core of the warband that now assailed Brimstone. Whirling the chains around his hooves, he took them head on, their melee half obscured at the far side of the plaza. Glimmerlight was pushed back, hiding behind a pillar at the side and trying to shove more clips into her rifle while snapping off flaring green shots with the pistol to keep the raiders not going at the griffons away from her.

Ahead of Protégé and I, Barb began galloping for the stairwell. He was getting away!

“Come on, Murk! We have to end this now! Too many ponies are dying from that assault. He needs to go down right now!”

With me tagging behind, we galloped across the plaza, dodging fire that kicked up concrete below our hooves. Protégé shot down two raiders trying to block our path, while I slid underneath a fallen pillar to dodge one that aimed to chase me. He couldn't follow through such a space. The moment he went over, a griffon’s shot took his head off. Part of me wanted to be sickened. So much blood and death would normally horrify me, but the stakes were too high, the violence too constant. If I stopped to worry, I'd be dead.

Barb turned, seeing Protégé and I gunning for him. The chieftain snarled, heading upstairs again the moment we reached the bottom of stairwell. Fear gripped me of following this deathly raider, but there was no turning back now. I'd just listen for him and let Protégé know. He could take Barb, right?

I hoped so.

The stairway led up much further than the one higher level I had expected. What was this? Some sort of maintenance staircase? The sound of the battle below, so painful to my hypersensitive ears, was beginning to dull the higher we went. The echoes of it beginning to become audible alongside the ongoing crashes of thunder. But even more worrying, the higher we went, the darker things got.

Finally, we emerged into a room. Barb was nowhere to be seen.

The entire room was in darkness. No lights were active here. Terror shot through me. This was Barb's ideal area. Looking like some sort of old ventilation room, large banks of machinery made the entire place a criss cross of hiding places. Normally I would have feel right at home and able to hide here, but now every shadow felt threatening. Even the small war below had become a distant thumping in this isolated and contained place.

“Come out, Barb! It's all over now!” Protégé shouted into the darkness, his revolver training around, watching piles of work tools, boxes of sand for spills, mops, small crates of wires, and a thousand other small hiding places while we trotted further in. Above us, the roof seemed to clatter with the wind beating at the building. We must have been right below the rooftop itself.

Slowly, a deliberate and dragging laugh emanated from the darkness.

“Ha...ha...ha...over? I believe differently, 'master.' You really think I couldn't just slip out of here? Start anew? Fillydelphia isn't a cage to me. The moment you two are dry on the floor, then I'll make my way from here. They won't even know I'm gone.”

The voice came from everywhere. His magic was throwing the voice, no doubt. Protégé swung the revolver on every side, peering as best he could to see into the dark.

“You're in my world now. Not even your precious little E.F.S to help you hunt me down. You won't leave this room alive. Dear filly? Take a seat. Watch the master of shadows at work.”

A thud came from behind us. Protégé spun, firing a shot. The flare of the gun lit the entire room for a fraction of a second, showing nothing more than a crate that had tipped being blown to splinters. The laughter came again.

“So we’re playing again then, hm? One shot down, five to go.”

The door we had come through slammed shut, locking hard. Sticking side to side and facing opposite directions, I strove to let my eyesight work in here; but even with a vague idea of where we were, Barb was utterly impossible to locate. Small sounds came from every side, confusing us, misleading us.

Within the sounds I heard that of something hissing, spinning in the air.

“Knife!” I screamed, more of fear than warning; dropping and dodging frantically. Protégé dove to the side, rolling back to his hooves as the thin blade pinged off the large fan assembly we'd passed. Aiming quickly, two heavy shots battered into the darkness, the flares revealing a dark shadow flickering over the top of a conditioning unit and flowing away. He'd missed by miles.

“Oooohohoho...getting panicky now, are we? Two hasty shots? I thought you were Red Eye's apprentice, boy! Trained by the pony who created a superpower with nothing but charisma and smarts! I must say I'm disappointed.”

Pausing on the spot, Protégé seemed to dial down any anger, before his horn lit up more than the usual telekinesis. A red aura sprang around us, lighting the area within twenty or so feet. I could see the reason. It gave us something, but Barb no doubt could have seen us anyway no matter how dark it was. I drew my PipBuck from my back, strapping it to my now healed leg and activating the light too. My vision began to settle, now that I had something to work as ambient light. But shadows danced in the room. Everywhere I looked, I saw small bits of movement. Circling around in our lonely island of light, we stuck together against the darkness that threatened to bring us low.

Then Protégé took the initiative. His magic grabbed two boxes of wires, the ease he had with multi-tasking sending bunches of them hurtling into the darkness at any slight sounds we heard. Then the crates went flying, and the tools; anything to try and gauge an impact.

Beep!

I glanced down at my PipBuck. Now!? Really!?

Another hissing sound, another knife. I heard Protégé grunt in pain as it skiffed him, drawing blood along his side before clattering into the floor. Not wanting to lose any momentum, he charged forward, trusting me to follow without distracting words. I dialled down the PipBuck volume. Oh Sundial, not now.

But I could still hear it.

Beep!

Click...

“I...hi...geez...oh Luna, sorry. Exhausted, want to get this before sleep.”

“Watch out, Murk!”

The warning came for a huge string of wires across the floor. We jumped over them, trying to chase him down and catch him in our aura of light around the maintenance room. Charging from corner to corner, I tried to keep up with the taller unicorn.

“Those zebras, they came back! They asked me again about the plans, about how I could make money, I don't know who I should tell or what I should do! They just appeared from nowhere in the dark alleyway with those cloaks! Hidden in the darkness.”

Barb had been silent for a while now, the waiting was only making things worse. Our lights weren't strong enough to properly cast across the room, he could be simply following us.

I spun, expecting to see a knife, but there was nothing.

“Getting to you, filly?”

“They scare me so much, just not knowing when they'll pop out of hiding. No wonder the Ministry of Morale's been so active. I tried to run from them, but they followed me, cornered me, asked the question again. To give up plans. What if their offer turns nasty? It was so scary, seeing the snow landing on something that isn't there and form a shape.”

Wait...

“Protégé!”

My master spun around. I quickly flicked my eyes to the boxes of sand. Nodding briefly back to me, Protégé began backing us toward the boxes. He let out another shot into the darkness, lighting up a darting shape atop the machinery. Then he was gone again.

“Oh, come now, really? I thought you'd realised how pointless that was to waste a bullet? Well well...are you even sure that was me?”

We waited. Closing my eyes, I concentrated everything I could on my hearing. Sight was no use here. I crouched to the ground, trying to ignore the danger, ignore the fact my friends were fighting for their lives below me.

“But they're offering so much...it's tempting. But I saw a spritebot floating around my apartment a few times today. Are the Ministry onto me? Watching to see if I would slip up? I just need a sleep, but Sky needs something to help her live if this all goes bad! I feel paranoid, like any small sound at night makes me wake up and lock myself in the bathroom. Any small sound.”

I heard the slide of a knife from a pocket.

“Now!”

Protégé's horn flared, launching the boxes of sand into the air and spinning wildly. The sand erupted into the air, coating everything, including us. But I heard a splutter amongst the darkness and immediately pointed my hoof. Two shots from Protégé's revolver rang out at the direction. Each flare revealed a freeze-frame of Barb charging us, dodging around the bullets. A knife flashed between us, both of us dodging to either side.

“The zebras are watching, I just know it! They knew who I was. What if they kill me?”

“A child's trick with sand? Oh my, but you've used up all your bullets my dear Protégé! Time for this to end!”

Rolling away, I turned to see Barb within our sphere of light, slashing and stabbing at Protégé. The unicorn was backing off furiously, throwing everything he could at the raider while he struggled to reload individual bullets. Box after bucket after tool kept Barb just out of knife range. After three bullets loaded he aimed, taking another shot that Barb ducked around a workbench to avoid. I tried to see if he came out the other side, but by the time we rushed him, he was gone. The sand wasn't staying on him. It had only bought us that one shot!

“They might get somepony else as their helper, if I only give them non-critical bits. I don't think I have a choice anymore. It's like they're always behind me. Just waiting...”

“Behind you!”

I saw Barb launch off the workbench and into our aura of light, two knives in his magic. A telekinetic duel began of sorts, as Protégé struggled to keep those knives away from him. I watched in horror as the pony I felt like I was only now beginning to understand fought for his life with the raider. The revolver fired, with Barb's own magic knocking the aim of, much the same as Protégé’s telekinesis was grasping and wrestling with the knives.

Changing the stakes, Barb launched forward, going physical on Protégé as the two tussled, fighting both hoof to hoof and magic to magic, and Protégé was clearly losing. Barb was impossible to keep a grip of, sliding and slithering in ways no pony should be able to move, or letting Protégé's attempts to grapple him down slide off that sickeningly damp skin-armour. Already, my master had a half dozen knife slashes from near misses.

“All I know is, I need to make a decision. Take action.”

I bit down on the mouthpiece, aiming Rarity's Grace. My one shot went wild, but the distraction made Barb break off and away. A knife hurtled toward me, making me scream and fall from the hissing metal passing so close overhead. I heard it embed into sheet metal beside my head. How many did he have?

But the distraction cost him dear. Unable to fight him head on, Protégé's magic changed purpose. Ripping the eyepiece from Barb's face, he aimed the revolver. Caught in front of the barrel, Barb threw himself Protégé, and dropped back into the shadows at a moment's notice.

Only now, Protégé had his E.F.S.

The revolver and it's single shot tracked him, following the raider all around. I fell back again, the ferocity of their brutal duel becoming far too much for me. They weren't speaking, taunting, or boasting now. This was a fight. A life or death event that both of them had to win. Protégé sent spanners and hammers hurling after Barb, tracking him on the eyepiece. He ducked and dove, crying out as another knife sliced through his ear, almost taking it entirely off. Blood stained the side of his head. He staggered back, wincing and muttering in pain, the revolver drooping...no!

“But first, sleep, so tired. Goodnight...”

Click.

Barb launched from the shadows, almost stretching out amongst them as the knife descended.

Protégé was bluffing.

The wires spun up, his strong multi-tasking telekinetic skills sending dozen of them whipping around Barb on all sides. Wrapping up the raider, they tangled him roughly, before a box of heavy sand smashed against his head. Barb landed heavily on his back, face bleeding from the impact. The knives all dropped, falling as his spell broke, bringing his full body into sharp relief. Spinning, Protégé brought the last round he had on him to bear, pointing directly at his head. Barb glanced up, sudden immediate fear in his eyes.

The look on Protégé's face was stern, authoritative and confident. I'd only seen such a look on one pony before.

Red Eye.

“This is for Caduceus and everypony else you murdered.”

Barb's hooves came up, but it was too late. Protégé's revolver blew his head clean apart...

...into a dark mist, as the rest of his body faded.

I gasped. I'd seen this!

“PROTÉGÉ, BEHIND YOU!”

Looking up in shock, he tried to spin, but the shadowed knife slammed home into his shoulder, diagonally lancing to pierce right through and out from his chest. Barb had dropped onto his back from above, before twisting it horribly and drawing a loud scream of pain from the unicorn.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Barb whispered into his ear, another sick twist only giving another drawn out cry from his prey. I felt rooted to the spot, my mouth gaping.

They fell to the ground, the knife ripping free. leaving Barb straddled over the prone slave master. It was a wickedly black dagger, seeming to drift with shadows on the blade. Protégé fell limp with Barb on his back. The raider's magic grabbed Protégé's mane, yanking his head back to expose his neck, keeping Protégé head between him and I as cover. The blood soaked blade curled around it and began to pull slowly. I even saw the blood began to dribble forth to mix with the copious bleeding of his shoulder. He was slitting his neck wide open!

“Born slave to loyal slaver. Never truly your own pony, pathetic! Now...bye-bye!”

I saw him tense to pull Protégé's head right back, to rip the cut throat apart.

Without even really knowing what I was doing, I charged forward, galloping with all the force I could gather and hurling myself at Barb with a loud cry. Even my weight was enough, slamming the raider off of Protégé and beating at him with my hooves with every pent up feeling of frustration and anger I had at him for involving himself in my life!

The shadowblade flew away into the darkness. Rolling one over the other, I was picked up and hurled into the metal machinery like a rag doll. Trying to stand, I flipped the mouthpiece out again, the shot firing upward as his magic yanked Rarity’s Grace away from aiming at him. Spinning around it, Barb bucked me again, knocking me another seven feet away with a crunching, sharp impact to my breast.

“Now what do we have here? The little filly got some spine, eh? Thought he could take on a raider chieftain at his own game before he got his kill? Gotta hand it to you, kid, didn't expect it.”

He darted forward, blinking through my vision and appearing before me, his front hoof smashing me across the jawline. Falling to the side, I spat blood, my gums burst. But he wasn't done, his magic lifted me up to telekinetically throw me even further. Clattering off the ground, I felt my ribs jar and the wind crushed out of me on impact. Unable to even scream, I simply rolled over, moaning loudly as I clutched at myself.

“But he's dead one way or the other. Why, just take a look!”

Drawing my head up, he forced my glance back to Protégé, where I felt my eyes widen in horror. He was jittering on the ground, trying to hold his neck shut; bleeding out, unable to move at all.

“No. It's just you and I, filly. You...and I...”

I lashed out in desperation, my hoof trying to catch him by surprise. No such luck. I felt my hoof battered away, before I was thrown through a doorway.

Suddenly, light and sound.

The battle below us raged. A sense of vertigo overtook me as I realised what I'd been thrown onto.

The platform above the plaza I had seen, that skeletal frame that hung below the skylight. This had all led upward to it, above the long drop. The bottom was nothing but hard mesh to trot on, no solid floor at all. I could see right down. Struggling to stand, my body aching, I found myself crying in sheer terror. I couldn't win!

I screamed even more as I felt the terrible sensation of a knife slit across my back. Crawling away, I felt another slice, and dared to look back. But I yelled, feeling my back sear in pain. They weren't deep. He was taunting me, torturing me. My hooves scrambled, trying to crawl across the platform, away from him.

“You know, filly. You and I are pretty alike. Small amongst our peers. I couldn’t do what they did, had to get my own way. But with you, oh, it all changes...”

I was kicked again, flung farther out onto the platform. The entire thing swung on its cords, wavering beneath the thunderstorm above. Rain lashed at us through the skylight, wind almost threatening to blow me off the edge. His long mane was whipping around as he strode toward me. Lit by a flare of lightning, that grin turned demonic, and those eyes predatory. Water dripped all around him from the storm around us.

I tried to turn, to shoot out the glass above his head and drop it all on him, but my mouthpiece was broken. That grin widened. He sensed easy blood.

“See, with you, I don't need all that. I can, for once, enjoy a little physical superiority! You can't hide or sneak better than I can, your peer. So it's all useless to you! No, all you can do is lie there and cry while I do all the things I never could to anypony else!”

The thunder clashed above us, the skylight's remaining fixtures shaking and making the entire platform unsteady. Seeing my blood on the ground behind me, I just tried to stay away from that knife. But his magic could reach me, flipping me over onto my front.

“Don't think I don't know your fears, filly. The terrors you hold from one of my crew.”

I felt the tip of a blade draw across my back, before resting above my shoulder and beginning to press.

“No...please!”

He licked his lips.

“Welcome back to hell.”

The piercing pain shot through me and pinned me to the ground, feeling a foot long blade punch through my body. The same shoulder.

Against the thundercrash above, almost lost in the sound, I screamed.

Kneeling down beside me, he pushed my head against the grated bottom of the platform, making me see the battle below through tear-stained eyes and a throat struggling to be able to scream as much as I wanted for help.

“You need your allies. Without them you're nothing, filly. Nothing! You think they're gonna save you now? Poor master's bleeding out. The mare and the traitor are still down there, see them?”

I could. They didn't even see me. They were just fighting for their lives, unable to move from bad cover for fear of the griffons hitting them. The slaves were backed into a corner, desperately struggling to survive from both raiders and griffon incoming fire.

“No, for once you're all alone and there's nothing you can do, filly! Nothing but scream and cry while you watch your friends die!”

My body was faltering from the stab wound. Barb withdrew the knife, making me cry out and curl up.

Everything seemed slow, the wind becoming lethargic and lazy, the gunshots taking longer.

“Only by sticking together can we truly save lives. Do not be afraid to fight if in defence of a better world. You will find your courage, Murky.”

Those voices in my memory, in my mind. They were what had inspired me to come here. To do all this, to this absolute end of all effort. To finish this and save lives, to help everypony make something better!

Just...just you watch, all of you. I'll fail, but I won't destroy everything you've given me!

It hurt. It hurt so badly, but remembering the faces of everypony who had been hurt more to get here, I began to push myself up, facing Barb. I had two grenades left. I began trying to dig for them, watching him, and—

His hoof caught me across the face.

“Applause for effort, filly! But you're outmatched here! I'm stronger, faster, smarter, bigger, and stealthier than you'll ever be!”

His other hoof slapped me again the other way. Dizzied, feeling a stinging after every slap, I staggered back again toward the edge.

“Every plan, every idea, every trick I've seen before! You're nothing but the little pony nopony actually believes will do anything in the end! You wanted to escape? You!? You'll never get out of here, kid!”

Pulling myself together, my body protesting, I readied up. My shoulder and front leg were useless. But one last effort...I just had to try!

Screaming, I charged him head on again, wrestling with the raider atop the platform, trying to hit him with my PipBuck like a club. He threw me everywhere, his knife drawing blood from slits and cuts. His hooves battered my face until I was swinging and missing entirely, but I pushed into him, hooves grabbing his disgusting clothing to tug and pull at his pockets, before he simply threw me off him.

Gravity disappeared. My hoof jarred as it caught around a pole at the edge, the rest of my body being flung over the edge of platform to now hang above the drop. The entire platform shuddered, leaning down to drop my weight. Panicking, I pedalled my hindlegs in the open air, feeling the sense of a long drop beneath me. From above, the rain was cascading down even harder across us, the stinging making my hoof go weak. I tried to grab with my other one, but all the efforts had made the stab wound become much worse, I couldn't move it at all.

“Guess this is it, filly. You've been fun! But I told you. Nothing you can do, not one thing you can pull out on me that I don't know better.”

Struggling, trying to keep attached, I propped my head back on the platform. Leaning up, I fixed him with a look before I spat out blood...

...along with two grenade pins.

“E-every trick? Ever heard of the reverse pickpocket?”

If I weren't bleeding to death and hanging off such a ledge, the look on his face would have been satisfying. The raider stepped back, as though wondering if I were joking before frantically beginning to search his many pockets and hidden sections of clothing, realising the mistake he'd made; falling into the pride and rush of being a physically stronger pony.

“You...no, you couldn't have! A reverse— NO! Not you! Damn you! DAMN YOU!”

My leg gave way. I couldn't hold on any longer. Feeling darkness creep over me, I saw the horrified look on Barb's face move farther and farther away as he felt the two bumps in his clothing even while I fell.

“NO! Not to a...stupid...fucking....filly! IT WON'T HELP! YOU'RE STUCK HERE! YOU'LL NEVER GET OU—”

The sharp crack and echoing boom rocked through the air, the blinding flash atop the platform throwing the broken and shredded form of Barb off the opposite side from myself. The concussive blast slapped across me. Then, seconds later, after everypony below looked skyward, the second explosion of the other grenade blasted the remains into ashes within the sight of his entire clan.

Barb was gone, and I simply fell to my death. A strange calm overtook me as I fell through the rain from on high. Only unlike before, this wasn’t from resignation. It was satisfaction. It was a sense of worth. I had...I had done something.

If that had to be—

Then I hit something, not the ground, but a heavy fabric. A vast pink face enveloped me, slowing my descend as my light weight was caught in the billowing banner that had blown out horizontally to catch me. But even so, I rolled down it, tumbling, grasping, spinning speeding up again for the last single storey yet to fall. I closed my eyes, the impact eventually coming amongst a rush of colour and wind in my ears.

Everything went out.

* * *

A warm light. That inner glow from before. It fell around me, fell across my broken and tired body. Slowly, I was lifted up. Helped to my hooves once again.

A...a pony! It was a pony! It turned that shimmering head with mine, ahead of us lying the Wall, as grand and imposing as ever.

Slowly, I felt a hoof clutch mine, as we began moving toward it, bolstered, braver, reminded of our potential...

“Together...”

Other words, another four drifting words that seemed so far...far...away...

I couldn't hear them. There was too much noise, too many other words, not beautiful...not as wondrous...they were foul...they were crude...they were-

* * *

“—before I push it there myself! Come on you fucking bunghole pipe experiment! There's too many casualties for you to sit around dicktickling some buck with a sprained leg all day!”

My eyes wouldn't see anything but vague blurs, but I was lying on cold ground. The rotten shape of a ghoul over me. Weathervane...

“—and while you're there get me some Celestia-damned Med-X! I don't give two fucks if the guard says it isn't for slaves!” A pause. “No I don't give a single fuck either! BLOODY MOVE! I can't move him till we know if his back's gone or not!”

Then the yellowed face turned back to me, seeing my hazed eyes drifting open. He gained in clarity as I slowly began to realise I was still alive. But I couldn't move. My shoulder was a mess of twisted pain, the feeling making me want to shiver.

“Fuck the eighteen generations of your ancestors, kid, you're lucky to be alive.” Weathervane began re-strapping a thick wad of bandage around my shoulder, being careful to keep my back from moving. Behind him I could see dozens of healers galloping around the Mall's plaza floor, tending to so many ponies.

“I had to, the...the grenade...”

“Lucky about the grenade? Fuck the grenade, kid! You landed on Stern! Just hope she doesn't want compensation for the piece of armour you dented on your fall. Leastways she broke your impact a little. Better than can be said for some of the slaves those bastards got their hooves on.”

My mind raced, sudden panic fighting through. Apparently, my back worked just fine, as I launched up, grabbing the ghoul.

“Protégé! Is he...”

Doctor Weathervane pressed me firmly back down, as the pain only then hit me from my sudden movement. Nearby, I saw ponies being wheeled out to the hospital, Glimmerlight, Coral...they both watched me as they passed, Glimmer offering a thin smile, clutching a bullet wound. But I could only await the answer.

“We found him upstairs...”

Oh no.

“...living, but in critical condition. He's lost a lot of blood.”

“But you can help him! Potions and spells and—”

“Normally, yes. But we're not sure what Barb did to that blade because those wounds just aren't healing no matter how many potions we throw into him. We've got doctors keeping him alive by the thinnest of threads right now but, well, it's not looking good. Even at the most optimistic, he's out of the game for a while.”

Behind him, I saw one more stretcher pass out, surrounded by crowding healers, all of their horns flaring. I caught a few glances of a black coat. Please Celestia, please Luna, bring him through this arduous time and give him the strength to live.

Weathervane glanced at them, before sighing.

“They say Red Eye's personal physician will take to him. They don't like 'outsiders' like me working on Red Eye's little prodigy there. Despite the fact I'm more from this city than any of those fuckers, Fillydelphia's my fucking home. Now, we're getting you to Hearts and Hooves, Murk. You've got a pass. Before he went under, Protégé muttered something about getting you all the care you needed. We'll see that happens.”

It was over. The Mall was devastated, ruined, destroyed. Blood ran everywhere. Balconies had collapsed and there was enough battle damage to render it useless for a little while. But I could see the slaves cowering at the side. We'd saved them. Even now, healers moved among them, tending to them in their hour of need.

I'd known one who had done so before then. Even as I watched, for a second I thought I witnessed a blonde mane looking up quickly, smiling as he helped other ponies. Then he was gone, just another face to the memories.

The first chance I got, I was going to draw him. He deserved it.

I was wheeled out soon after, doped up on Med-X and lifted upon the stretchers as they returned for more. Weathervane returned with me, staying silent en-route. But as we left the Mall, I looked back into the war-torn destruction left behind and saw one pony standing among it.

The Master.

He looked up and around, casting his eyes over the Mall, over every cell and barrier with keen eyes, like somepony viewing a new home for the first time...

...and smiled.

* * *

Footnote: Perk Attained!

Sleight of Hoof (Rank 2!) – Giving and taking, it's all the same to you now. That little bit of damning evidence or unfortunate item may now mysteriously end up in your enemy's possession without them even realising. Reverse pickpocketing is now significantly easier to achieve with heavier objects!