Well if they won’t fight they will be heralded by the blue light of the Will of the Wisp.

I stared at the screen, hardly believing my eyes. Another operative, alive. I closed my mouth and frantically tapped at the keyboard trying to find a command to wake them up. I parsed through the records menu, wondering if it might be linked there, accessing what was noted under 901. A list of dates, the gaps getting smaller and smaller, seeming to have entries every couple of days before they stopped, one of the files of formulae, ratings of telekinesis outputs showing very large numbers, no stasis controls. I hammered away again, trying to think logically and heading back into the locks section, finding the command to unlock the stasis pod in the stasis chamber menu. Of course. I unlocked all the doors to the pod and hit the key to revive my comrade.

[Error]

“Well buck.”

I tried tapping the command again, with the same results. A third tap was no different but the fifth tap brought up an additional line of text; [Manual override required – access panel s1-3-1 to continue] tapping enter again brought up a map that I recognised as the agent storage level from the hub and spoke layout. It indicated the stasis chamber anti-clockwise of the stairwell, one I had not passed in my trek around the chasm.

I was about to just leave when the terminal beeped at me, returning to the root menu where a new line had appeared; [Network synch complete – confirm pipbuck? Y/N] I remembered I still had my (well, Project Lead Muse’s) pipbuck connected to the terminal and with a shrug tapped ‘Y’. A little progress bar filled then both terminal and pipbuck beeped displaying ‘Synch Complete’ on both before the terminal spat out a holotape and unceremoniously shut down.

“Did you break it?” Neon Dream asked quietly, but I didn’t dignify that with a response as I stuffed the tape in my saddlebags.

I looked back up at the pegasus, steadying my breathing, “We need to go back down, another Operative is in the stasis chambers,” a small gleam came to his eye, “but we need to open it from down there.”

He gave a nod, the badge on his cap gleaming slightly in the soft lights, as he fell in behind me and we began our descent back into the depths of the station. We carefully crept past the barracks level once again and spiralled our way towards agent storage.

“Would it have killed them to put in an elevator?” came a complaint from behind,

“Trust me,” i turned back to look at my companion, “that would be more trouble than it’d be worth right now.”

The crunch of tiles underhoof announced our arrival to the right level and I called for Neon Dream to follow me with a flick of my hoof as I turned to follow the curving corridor to the right this time. The anticipation seemed to make the journey stretch out before me, though that was being tempered by the knowledge that I was going to have to bring 901 up to speed on the present situation. I was probably not the best placed for that. Neon Dream had a better grasp of the state of the world, though he had gone from one sheltered community to another one.

It wasn’t long before we came to the door of the stasis room, already open and through it I could see both the stasis pod and the further equipment rooms that I remembered from my own station. I ducked into the room, Neon Dream following and circled the egg shaped pod, the clinical white of the shell having faded over the years to a duller, grimier, hue. The canopy had also fogged up so that the pony inside was obscured, though a hint of their white and black colouration was discernible.

“We need to look for a panel,” I said, looking around the room “it should be in here somewhere, and will open up the pod.”

Casting our eyes around, looking for some kind of screen or controls a thought came to me, we would be going back out the way we came in, if only because any central elevator shaft would have been destroyed by whatever crashed through the facility. I should retrieve 901’s equipment from the further rooms.

I motioned Neon Dream over to me, “keep looking for that access panel, but don’t touch it.”

“what about you?” he asked, still trying to spot the panel, “what’re you going to do?”

“OSP.”

“...what?”

“On Site Procurement.”

“...so, looting?”

See, I’m not the only one.

I shook my head, at both my companion and my rogue thoughts, trotting away into the equipment rooms. Despite the massive damage to the facility the series of rooms were in a better condition than Station 5, general state 200 years of decline notwithstanding. The barding in the locker seemed in better condition than my own as I pulled it out and made sure to snag the operative beret, checking it still had the 901 badge affixed with its symbol of an arrow of force punching through an upright line. I remembered the dream/memory of sitting in the station commissary with 901 and 908 and began to wonder what had happened to the other operative. I shook my head, that was a question for later given they were clearly not here.

The next room was again dominated by the briefing screen and I fought the urge to sit before it and receive a mission. I frowned, remembering Fallen telling me that we operatives were being controlled, that must have been some kind of conditioning kicking in. Shaking my head to clear it I reached out with my magic, grabbing the equipment drawer and pulling back telekinetically.

The drawer was empty.

No knife, no armour, no Operator, no ammunition.

That was... Unhelpful. But, not insurmountable. If nothing else, we could equip 901 by rendezvousing with Roulette, for a price. On that front, there might be a deal that could be made, the Stations had been sealed, and the reports showed the other ones in better condition than Stations 5 and 2. Maybe we could trade salvage runs for what we needed. It would certainly be a way of increasing our stocks of .45 ICP ammunition. And although I trusted Ditzy Doo’s improvements to provide protection for me, it would also benefit us to find some Project armour.

A call from the stasis room got my attention, Neon Dream must have found the panel. With a little nicker of irritation at the empty drawer I turned back towards my friend, and... potential friend?

The panel we needed had been hidden behind some kind of maintenance hatch that Neon Dream said he found by just pressing every part of the wall, and getting lucky by choosing the correct wall first.

The panel looked a lot like a terminal though was missing what seemed an essential component... A keyboard. Thankfully there seemed to be a pipbuck link socket, so I quickly connected it up, allowing me to use the pipbuck controls on the terminal’s entries. Skimming them the command ‘Activate Operative’ leapt out at me and, without hesitation, I selected it, a beep of confirmation coming from the panel as the stasis pod began to vent some kind of cold mist.

A voice suddenly cut in over the speakers, a measured voice, a familiar voice speaking a familiar mantra;

“Neun Null Eins, Broneboynaya Soldat, Awaken Operative.”

“What, who, what’s the voice?” Neon Dream’s wings ruffled at the sudden noise, then scooted back behind me as the lid cracked open on the pod.

“Respond.” The voice came again

“FT-909-SBS-Razor Wind,” I found myself saying automatically even as I heard another voice stating “FT-901-AAS-Door Knocker.”

“Error, Operative not confirmed. Error, briefing not available. Error, Station compromised. All Operatives report to Station 1. Stasis system shut down.”

I saw Neon Dream’s face slide into the corner of my vision, with a very confused look on his face, “whaaa?” I frowned at him, snapping myself out of the rigid stance I’d locked into, then looking back over at the stasis pod. A figure was rising from the mist surrounding the pod, stretching their limbs and shaking as they awoke from their long slumber. There was the familiar white coat and black muzzle, with diamond adorned forehead and a tangle of a mane, though, something seemed off.

It was a more slender muzzle, rounder, and though there were the same half-lidded, lazy looking eyes, they sat a little different in the face.

“New guy,” the eyes flicked over to Neon Dream’s beret, “Falling. This seems a bit unorthodox an awa... ” they trailed off, looking back at Neon Dream, “huh, pegasus. That’s new.”

It was still a laid back voice, but softer somehow than I remembered. 901 must have noticed something off about my expression as they looked directly at me.

“What’s wrong with you? Never...” the trailed off, blinking then shook their rump from side to side before turning their head to look back at it, “ahh” they said, “mare this time.”

This 901 was a mare. The one I remembered was a stallion, though they looked near identical. She gave a shrug, looking back at me, “this happens from time to time.”

I shook my head clearing the confusion, it was not important. Not right now. I tossed them the barding and beret instead, the clothing landing at their hooves, “you’ll need to get dressed,” I said, “we’ve got to get out of here and, well, there’s a lot to catch you up on.”

Giving a nod the white mare started suiting up, and Neon Dream spun around, a blush glowing across his muzzle.

The half dressed operative looked up at the skittish pegasus, “what’s up with Falling?”

Neon Dream mumbled under his breath, and I translated.

“He’s not Fallen Tactics.” I said, an eyebrow raising up 901’s face, “It’s, well, not a long story, but not one we have time for.”

She closed up the barding and scooped up her beret, somehow perching it on her tousled mane in much the same, impossible, way that Roulette had. I paused for a moment, considering my next action before giving a little snort. I hooked my Operator from my side holster and chucked it across to the other Operative.

“We’ve got very limited ammunition reserves,” I told her, “but they’re also not much use against what we’re up against in here.”

She checked the gun over and put it in the leg holster as I scrolled through my inventory sorter, pulling out Memento and housing it in the side holster.

“And what are we up against?”

As I opened my mouth to respond there came growling sound from behind the stasis pod, and a dead face slid into view, an unearthly light glowing in its eyes. Neon Dream had been turning back to see if it was safe to look at the other operative and let out a squeak as he saw the ghoul, jumping back as he struggled to deploy his rifle. I concentrated my magic, the air shimmering around the ghoul’s neck, condensing into a silent blade just as it let out one of those alert howls, the tone seeming to continue even as it’s head fell from its shoulders. The tone was continuing, it was an answer from the other ghouls in the facility

We needed to get out of here, but I didn’t think trying to edge around the chasm, suffering pink cloud exposure, whilst trying to avoid ghouls was a great plan and, while we had stocked up, I wasn’t confident our medical supplies would stretch to repairing that kind of damage to all three of us, alongside any battle wounds. We needed a better escape route.

“We need a way out of the Station,” I said aloud, “access to the main entrance is cut off and a potential emergency escape would require navigating contaminated water.”

“Contaminated?” 901 called back over her shoulder as she inspected the ghoul I had decapitated

“Pink Cloud,” said Neon Dream, which I elaborated on, “Littlehorn agent,” which got me an ‘ahh’ of recognition from the mare.

Neon Dream’s ears perked up as he had an idea, “up in the hanger, with the vertibucks,” he stopped as we both looked at him, hesitating before swallowing and continuing, “the hangar doors, we could get out that way. I m-might need to fly you out, so it’d be one at a time. The... The one waiting might have to... To...”

“Defend themselves” 901 finished the thought, the young pegasus nodding as they withdrew behind their mane.

I nodded and started towards the door, “best option we have. Lets get going. I’ve got point, Neon, cover our rear. 90-” I stopped, grunted and tried again, “Door Knocker, take the centre, but keep your senses on a swivel. These things have a tendency to get back up.”

Neon Dream gave a quick salute, with Door Knocker providing a tip of the hoof, and we hurried out into the corridor, aware that unless that ghoul had been just standing around the corner by the chasm, they had to have come down the stairs from the levels above.

The three of us crept up the stairs to the maintenance and hanger level and it was only then that I considered the possibility that that ghoul had come up from a lower level. Reaching the exit to the stairwell I held up a hoof for the others to halt and then stuck my head out around the doorway, straining my eyes in the gloom to try and spot any more ghouls.

“Clear,” I whispered, leading my team out onto the level proper.

We trotted along the hanger, and I gave a little wince at even the quiet sound of our hooves seeming to reverberate around the much more open space. We passed by the decayed vehicles and I caught Door Knocker staring at the remains.

“how...” she whispered softly, “how long have I been in stasis?”

I gave her a sympathetic look, “About 200 years, give or take. It’s, a lot to take in.” I looked back over at the doors at the end of the launch tracks, our destination, “we’ll bring you up to speed once we get out of here.”

The doors were solid, and apparently were not one of the ones I opened from Project Lead Muse’s terminal. I looked around, trying to spot any kind of controls that would open this next impediment in the long list of problems this station had thrown at us. I didn’t notice Door Knocker leaning in until she spoke, setting my coat standing on end.

“What about in the launch control booth?”

I followed the line of her pointing hoof to the steel box structure at the far end of the hanger that we must have passed on our way down. Huffing in irritation I motioned for the other two to form up as we marched back across the hanger and up the stairs to the control booth, the low growls of the ghouls still audible on the edge of our hearing. The booth had a couple of terminals and radio stations, along with a few controls of unknown function and a jacket of some sort hanging over one of the two chairs. Door Knocker’s horn flared as she picked up the jacket, a padded leather garment with a fur trim around the collar, and pulled it over to herself.

“I’m just feeling a little chilly New Guy, that’s all.”

I frowned at the name, but rolled my eyes and shrugged it off, if she wanted the jacket then there was no particular need to deny her. I ran my eyes over the locked terminals and decided to just cut straight to using the pipbuck link to override them. However, as I looked down at the device I could see a notification on the screen that I hadn’t seen before; ‘1 new message’.

How had someone sent me a message? I didn’t think pipbucks worked like that. I hoofed the access button, half convinced that it would be revealed to be something picked up from a terminal in the station. Or Roulette. I wouldn’t put it past her to have found some way of messaging me. As the menu opened I froze at the name displayed.

Message from Dr E. Muse.

I automatically activated it, which opened the message that turned out to be an audio file. Whilst using the pipbuck to access terminals I must have accidentally hit the volume control as Project Lead Muse’s voice came spilling out of the speakers, reverberating around the hangar. I tried to stop the file playing, but it would not stop, and in my haste, I completely forgot to just turn down the volume. Door Knocker just yelled at me,

“Earbloom!” I just looked confused as she repeated the word, before she flicked her hoof at the pipbuck, catching a small component that unspooled on a cable until it was jammed into my ear.

A familiar voice resounded in my ear, though I must have missed an amount of the message. I tried the controls again and restarted the file.

“This is Dr Erinnerung Muse, joint project lead on the multi-ministry Framework project. If my plan... No, no plans, not anymore. If my predictions are correct the bearer of this pipbuck, and the pony hearing this, should be Framework Trooper 909 – Razor Wind.” My eyes were wide as the horstrian accented voice addressed me directly, after her usual confidence faltered.

The message continued, “First things first, I will release you from some of the project conditioning, if you have not already broken it. I, regret, that it cannot be more at this time, but I think I will still have need of you as an Operative. Klarer und ruhiger geist, your coda is gone. And feel free to just call me Muse.”

My eyes widened, unsure exactly how breaking conditioning was meant to feel though, as she had said, I had been eroding it. My coda had fallen out of use in the days since I awoke, the arguments with my rogue thoughts had broken that.

Glad to be of service.

“I am leaving these recordings as things go from bad to worse. They will be stored on the pipbuck under my profile and will be released to you to provide context and history. They will also serve to recognise my sins and, just maybe, earn me some forgiveness. I am travelling to Station 1 to link up with Mana, and try not to die in a balefire holocaust in the process.”

This largely confirmed what had happened at Station 5 and that we were on the right track.

“I, regret what will become of the Station 5 staff. I would not have enacted the protocol, but it might be a gentler death than the balefire. Another sin for the pile.”

She sniffed, seeming near the edge of tears but then pulled herself back.

“Razor Wind, armes liebes leidendes kind, I am sorry. And one last thing.”

There was a pause and in my mind’s eye I could see her looking around, trying to confirm she was alone.

“Do. Not. Trust. Mana.”

The recording ended and I realised I was simply staring at the pipbuck screen, my mouth hanging open. I closed it and gave a small swallow as I pulled the earbloom out and let it retract back into the case. Looking back up I became aware of my companions staring at me,

“It was, Dr Muse,” I said, slowly acknowledging that I could indeed say just that, I looked at Neon Dream, “we’re on the right track” I told him.

“We’re also in trouble,” Door Knocker said, leaning out of the doorway. As she spoke I could hear the howl of a hunting ghoul and realised that the burst of sound had given our position away.

I frowned and leaped at the terminals, hooking the pipbuck into them and trying to unlock them.

[Error]

That... Was not helpful. I tried to boot into the BIOS to crack the password.

[Error]

I looked at the controls as the howls grew closer, but could not identify a mechanism for the launch doors. There was a beep from my pipbuck that was still hooked into the terminal.

{Remote Access: You are having some interface issues? Y/N}

I confirmed yes.

{Remote Access: Stand by, assessing situation.}

Now I was just confused. Code began to scroll across the screen, then similar code crossed the terminals before ending up with just a blinking box. Slowly something typed out across the terminal screen:

OPEN SAYS ME

The terminals suddenly died, screens turning black as a rumble was heard at the far end of the hanger. The doors were opening, our way out.

“Move!” I yelled, the howls drawing nearer as we heard hoofbeats on the stairs.

I pulled the interface cord from the now dead terminals, spotting a quick flash of text on my pipbuck screen,

{Remote Access: Good luck Razor Wind.}

And then it was gone and we galloped for the far end of the level, aiming for the growing opening and a glimpse of freedom. We passed through the doors only to find a further tunnel, and no light.

“Now what?”

The howls were closer now and turning back I could see some of the deadlights of the front runners approaching through the wrecks of the vertibucks. I concentrated, spreading my spell wide and encircling three of them before triggering and parting their heads from their bodies. They kept running forwards for a pace of three before dropping to the ground, momentum sliding the corpses towards us as more emerged from the gloom. A buzzing beam of magic lanced out from the pegasus, burning through one ghoul and into the one behind, enveloping it in a field of red magic before dissipating the second ghoul as a cloud of glowing dust. Door knocker gave a cry of triumph as she stepped forward, looking at the downed ghoul before that grinding noise sounded out and the dead body got back up to its feet, the singed hole closing up.

“just headshots aren’t enough,” I encircled another ghoul and severed its snarling head, “either disintegrate them or remove the head.”

The black and white mare looked up at the oncoming ghouls, a horde like something out of an old zombie film, and stepped back, ears down and eyes wide instead of lazily lidded.

“Door Knocker?” I said, confused, but she just shook her head, “Door Knocker!”

“Razor!” Neon Dream’s shout alerted me and I spun back, already warming a silent blade as I turned. It wasn’t a clean ring, I just lashed out with an edge of razor sharp air and caught the ghoul that was pouncing on me right through its gaping maw, splitting it’s head horizontally, the two halves going either side of my own head like it was unhinging its jaw to swallow me whole.

Looking back at Door Knocker I spotted something at the end of the tunnel, a crack of light. There was a reverberating clang as the first set of doors locked open and the far pair of doors began opening.

“We have a way out,” I said to the others, “we just need to hold out.”

Door Knocker looked between Neon Dream and myself then took a shaking breath and nodded, a look of concentration came across her face as she warmed up her own spell.

A blue glow appeared around Door Knocker’s horn, a mist coalescing around the unit badge on her beret. She reopened her eyes, no longer wide and panicked, but not her usual lazy half opened expression either. These were hard, focused, and glowed with the same blue glow as the will o wisp that had formed over her head.

A ghoul approached her, mouth opening in a snarl then, suddenly, it’s head exploded, flying apart in a shower of liquid as a massive force struck it. Her head whipped around and she fired off the spell again, though took a step back from the carnage.

901 – AAS. Anti-Armour Soldier. She was usually deployed against zebra tanks and robots. These soft targets were completely unable to stand up against that spell.

We unleashed on the horde of ghouls, painting the floor of the hanger with necrotised bodies and fluids, a slight pink tinge in the air as the absorbed pink cloud steamed from the remains. I had one ear cocked to the doors, listening for them to lock open over the buzz of Neon Dream’s rifle and the snarls of the ghouls. The air itself seemed to waver and bend with the combined wake of multiple telekinetic spells, some patches starting to lens the beam of Neon Dream’s rifle. As he started to compensate for the effect I heard the doors lock open.

“Neon! Go!” I shouted, flicking my eyes over to the blank faced mare firing off high-powered telekinetic bolts, “Take Door Knocker first.”

He threw me a pained look as his rifle slid back into its stowed position, “b-but...”

“I’ll hold. Lets not waste what we’ve done here.” He wanted to argue, I could see tears welling up in his eyes but I flashed him a soft smile, “please, go.”

He swallowed, nodded and leapt for Door Knocker, wrapping his limbs around her barrel and heaving back with a flap of his wings. They left the ground, flipping muzzle over dock before a flick of the wings spun the pair right side up and they sped down the launch path and out into the sky.

My eyes hardened as I turned them back to the ghouls. While we had made progress, this must have been the full population of one of the key project stations, unaffected by concentrations of pink cloud or contaminated water, and we... I, had woken them up. I was beginning to tire, repeatedly using my spell had some strain to it, trying to encircle multiple ghouls was more taxing, but more efficient than multiple single loops, especially as single blades would not consistently fully sever heads. I would need to adapt, as I had against the Silverpone. I formed a silent blade and stretched it out, forming a horizontal plane, holding it out aligned with as many necks as I could and fired it, angling slightly up.

A shimmering wall appeared in the air, lopping the heads off of the front rank of ghouls, and surprisingly halting their advance as the suddenly solid, micron thick plane of air blocked their path. I could form barriers. Even briefly, being able to put some distance between myself and the flesh eating zombies was useful.

I alternated between blocking barriers and wide planes, herding then decapitating ghouls. The downside was that it concentrated the remains and the pink cloud fumes were beginning to get to me, sending blood running down my muzzle from my nose, my ears, my eyes. My lungs were squeezed and my head felt like my mane was made of fire, burning from the back of my head all the way to the root of my horn. It was a good thing I was using wide area slices as my aim was starting to get sloppy and I did not want to let any of them get close.

And then they did.

I let my aim drift too far, the angle to oblique and what should have taken a line of ghouls’ heads off ended up clipping the ears and mane from the last one in the line. They broke through and were bearing down on me, I could see the glow of the necromantic magic that kept them animated in the sunken pits of its eyes, could see the chipped and decaying teeth and feel the hot, rotten breath as its mouth opened wide.

Something wrapped around my barrel and it was only extreme self control that prevented me from flinging a cluster of silent blades along my own spine. I was yanked up and over, into the air and as we corkscrewed around I felt those rotting teeth graze my cropped tail, before slamming shut on empty air.

‘Not again’ I thought, how much abuse could one tail get in a single day.

Flying with a pegasus was a lot different to flying with Fallen, there the nature of the telekinetic flight was much smoother, more controlled, and usually a descent, being carried by Neon Dream was a frantic affair of micro adjustments, quick changes of direction and powerful wing beats to gain height. We bust out of the launch path into a cool night, the temperature making me acutely aware of the sweat and blood coating me, sending shivers running through me. Again, the cloud cover stubbornly hid Luna’s moon and the distant gaze of her stars from me. Roulette’s words came back to me and I found that, yes, it did hurt, to know that not only has she physically perished but that her very essence was also hidden from those left on the ground. Both the princesses had been stolen away when the pegasi sealed the sky.

We banked sharply as if Neon Dream was scared of even touching those clouds and instead began to spiral back down. I could see the glint of the river and a dark depression nearby, like a lakebed. Albeit a lakebed with an extra crater in it, one split by an ugly rent in the ground, glowing softly with an unearthly haze. That was Station 2. It had been under a lake, fed by the river. Some zebra missile had exploded in the lake with enough force to crack open the facility, and a lakes worth of water had cascaded down into it.

Neon Dream swooped down, carrying me over the big bridge we had passed over only this afternoon.

The Steam Hammer memorial bridge.

Right. We passed over the Steam Hammer memorial bridge and headed for a small structure, a signal box by the rail line that still looked intact. A large crate was blocking the door in, but my pegasus companion simply dropped me on the gantry surrounding the upper level, where there was an other door to the inside, soft light spilling out into the darkening evening.

I trotted inside, followed by Neon Dream and found myself in a snug little shelter, filled with blankets, a small lamp and an old skeleton still holding a tin of beans in its hooves. I quirked my head at that, wondering how this pony had finally lost their life in their secure little home. Sat on a pile of blankets in the corner was the white form of Door Knocker, having shed their barding and beret and now staring at the lantern.

I turned back to Neon Dream, “Thanks for the timely extraction Neon,” I gave him a small smile, “your timing remains impeccable.”

I turned to look at the other Operative, “Door Knocker,” I began, but Neon Dream interrupted, “Do you have a shorter name, or nickname we can call you?” he asked, “not all of us are formal, full name ponies like Razor.”

My frown sent him beneath his mane again, but the smile was still on his face. Door Knocker looked up and met Neon Dream’s smile with one of her own, the lazy expression back in her eyes, though tinged with something else, sadness? Regret? I didn’t know.

“He is a by-the-book stick-in-the-mud, isn’t he? ” my continued frowning simply elicited a chuckle, “Normally just went by ‘Knocker’, though that never sits quite the same when I’m a mare, so, just call me ‘Dee’.”

I nodded, mentally acknowledging the name, though knowing I would likely still call them Door Knocker in my own mind.

You are a stick-in-the-mud.

Am not.

You changed how you called Fallen.

I sighed, “Dee, I...” I wanted to ask what happened in that fight, but, really, part of me knew that that wasn’t the path to take here, “how are you feeling? Coming out of long term stasis is... Disorientating at the best of times, never mind straight into a fight.”

Her eyes crinkled in appreciation, but resumed their regretful look, “you want to know why I froze up, wasn’t going to fight? Don’t you?”

My mouth became a thin line as I looked away from the white mare before nodding just slightly.

“I’m the first successful framework trooper, the first operative, and, well, I was a bit rushed into service.” She sighed, “Project Lead Spellwright was obsessed with magical superiority over technology and, when he heard about the MWT anti-material rifle project, he just had to get his anti-armour option available first. The conditioning has always been a bit loose with me,” she looked back up at me, “probably why it’s so strong in the rest of you. Well, after the first couple of re-applications an override was written in, the will o’the wisp. It, well, it’s like some kind of trance, I don’t feel anything, I don’t really think anything while I’m under its influence, it just keeps telling me to fight.”

As she spoke she had drawn her legs up underneath herself and was glaring at the operative uniform, she let out a sigh and looked up at the two of us.

“I can trigger it myself, and I knew you needed me in that fight but, its, hard. To fight something like that...” tears were welling up in her eyes, “we lost, didn’t we? That’s what caused those things, right?” I nodded softly, “After everything we did, everyone we killed, all the harm we caused. It was all for nothing.”

I couldn’t say anything as she let her head drop to the blankets. Instead i flicked through my inventory and pulled out the box of snack cakes, offering one of the sugary treats to the mare, holding it in my mouth. She looked up, a small smile on her face, wrapping the packet in a telekinetic field,

“Conserve magic, deceive opponents, subterfuge, huh?”

I gave a shrug, and smiled a little as Door Knocker’s eyes widened the minute the treat went in her mouth, “200 years have only matured the flavour,” I said, passing one back to Neon Dream while I first drained one of the half finished health potions. Chasing it with a snack cake of course.

We settled down in the blankets strewn about the shelter and at Neon Dream’s request I turned on the radio for a while. Between the old crooners the DJ had a new announcement;

“Looks like our wasteland crusader from Stable Two is an equal-opportunity saviour. From the reports I’m getting, she and her companions helped out a bunch of raiders up at Shattered Hoof from being enslaved and decimated by an attacking slaver army.” Had the Stable Dweller hit her head in the train crash? I thought back to the gang of raiders I’d encountered with Peach Lemonade, can’t think they’d be worth saving, but the DJ continued, “and then, because you can’t have a cupcake without icing, she killed a dragon! Don’t know if I agree with you on this one, kid. Saving raiders? Some monsters deserve to be enslaved.”

Looked like the DJ and I agreed on some things.

“That some kind of serial?” Door Knocker was looking over at me,

Dee.

I sighed and started to reply, but Neon Dream got there first, “The Stable Dweller is some kind of hero out in the wastes. Righting wrongs as she comes across them.”

“And causing a few.” Neon Dream winced, recalling, as I did, the tale of Peach Lemonade.

“Huh, good to know,” Dee let out a yawn, settling her head down, “I know I only just woke up, but I need a sleep.”

“I’ll wake you for third watch,” I told her, settling my head down.

“Wait,” Neon Dream shot to his hooves, “what do you mean you’ll wake her?”

“Enjoy first watch Neon.” I said, setting Resolve down beside my head as I laid it down on the blankets.

“This’ll be coming outta your paycheck Razor.”

Author's Note

Thanks to kkat for creating this crazy mashup and letting others play around in it.
Thanks to Somber too, I may reference things from Project Horizons and Homelands here and there.