It’s true what they say: hate keeps you alive. Don’t call it a revolution. The word sounds so grandiose and lofty and coordinated like a thousand piece machine working in slick unity to bring about communal change. A team with a dream of something better and a real shot to make it happen. Let’s not put on airs. There is no dream; there is no team, not really. There’s just a corrosive hatred and one half of a stallion, the worst half. Don’t call it a revolution; call it unfinished business.

Plenty of opportunity to plot down here in the dark. Mindless work with only the ca-chink of your pickaxe and the occasional dick-waving threat from a guard to interrupt your thoughts. It’s a far cry from my former life to say the least. Out of all those who survived the takeover, I’m comfortable in saying no one lost more than I. I’d give anything to be hosting some insipid gala right now. Sitting on that cold-ass throne, joyless plastic smile on my face as I waved to some greasy bloated diplomat from who cares. But my daughter is on my lap and my wife is sitting next to me with an ass just as cold and sore as mine. I never appreciated how boringly charmed it all was. Captain of the Canterlot Guard to Prince of the Crystal Empire. I married an alicorn… Now I’m nobody. I too died that day but somehow my heart still beats.

I scooped up a pile of rubble with my magic and loaded it in the waiting minecart for a dead inside earth pony to whisk away. Then I eagerly checked my watch.

"Quitin' time," shouted a voice from up the tunnel.

"Quitin' time," I shouted to relay the message. I exhaled in relief and began trudging up the trail of glowing blue lanterns out of my wing of the crystal mine. Once out in the smog filtered sunset, I turned in my pickaxe and helmet and made for the dirt road back to town as I always did.

"Hey, Moon," called Crystaleen from near the equipment shack.

I turned to look. It finally felt natural. Even I knew me as New Moon now. Why New Moon? Because a black circle is an easy thing to paint over my shield cutie mark for the rest of my life. That’s it. That was the governing principle for establishing my alias. If nothing else, I'm pragmatic.

"Wanna go a few rounds of poker with us?" asked the unicorn mare.

I had time and no excuse. "I guess," I shrugged, trying not to sound too apathetic and off-putting.

It was the same watering hole all the miners seemed to go to, all of them but me. I preferred the one near my apartment; they serve room temperature horn polish remover but the glasses are clean and they actually replace their windows when they get broken.

My eye twitched when I recognized the off duty guard at the table yucking it up with one of the other players under a blanket of haze. Crystal City was infested with them. Most, I think, were of the mind controlled variety, identifiable by the green glint in the eyes. This one looked clean which made her a volunteer, my least favorite kind of guard. Who invited her?

There probably had to be a designated snitch or the gathering would violate some sort of size ordinance. Any place you go, a bar, a store, your workplace, there's always at least one within earshot. If not a guard, an informant. If not an informant, a blanket of fear and paranoia that keeps your lips sealed and your forehooves tied. I hadn't done much traveling since Sombra clinched control of Equestria but I had to imagine it wasn't too different in all the big cities even with Crystal City being the seat of power.

I didn't care to keep company with this kind of trash but it was probably in my best interest to just grin and bear it rather than back out abruptly and get put on a dissident watchlist or something.

I took a seat wearing my funeral face and anted up. Seven players. It looked like the dealer was shuffling two full decks in the air. I floated my cards to me as they came. Then I made a hoof of two pair and won the first round.

Sand Cast took a generous swig of his rotgut and winced. "So, New Moon, I never see you around here after work. You haven't always worked the mines, have you?"

"No," I replied absently, rearranging my cards.

"What did you do before they conscripted you?"

"Cook in the hospital canteen," I answered, brushing a scraggly black lock of mane from my eye.

"Oh, okay," he nodded. "I worked at the foundry. Don't know why they didn't just keep me there. It's still operating. Seems like half the city swings a pickaxe now."

I lost six bits to Crystaleen's straight but after several more rounds, I was still above water with a gain of twelve.

"Found a real big one today," mused Crystaleen, ditching two cards. "One of those spiral shaped ones. Big as my head."

"I've been working in the mine since the overthrow and I still haven't found a damn fossil in there," complained Sand Cast.

"Seriously? I find them at least once a week. It's 'cuz you're working in a lower level than me."

Sand scratched his head. "But there should still be fossils where I am, just like… little ones, right? That's how the fossil record works. The deeper you go, the older the stuff is."

"That means if we put in one more vertical shaft we might find my parents," muttered the grizzled Chip, tossing a bit in the pot.

Sand Cast giggled. "Chip's probably old enough to remember Sombra's first reign. Is this whole thing like a nostalgia trip for you? The good old days?"

Crystaleen looked up from her cards and shot him a scornful, tight-lipped glare, subtly shaking her head.

"No," grumbled Chip. "It's not like a hell of a lot has changed one way or the other. I worked in the mines before; I work in the mines now. Life's really only different for the troublemakers."

The rest of the table fell uncomfortably silent. No one wanted to have a real discussion about this while under surveillance. My whole body tensed and I bit my lip harder and harder until I was all but certain that I would be feeling warm blood drops pattering on my lap. I wanted to make this guy eat his own teeth, metallic flavored gravel but if I did that I'd probably have to make the guard eat her teeth too and if I did that, it would be a whole thing and I could probably kiss all my big plans goodbye. It was getting harder to remember a time where my mind wasn't continuously occupied with violent fantasies and easier to believe that Shining Armor was just some nice guy I used to know.

"I fold," I muttered, pushing my cards away before standing up. "Have to go anyway. Got a date."

Some composite of snow and ash fell silently from the murky night sky as I trudged closer to the agreed upon location.

Three dead ponies swayed gently from creaking ropes at a gallows on the corner. Their heads were bagged and a sign above them read 'traitors.' I didn't pick the venue, my date did. Either he thought this was a safe place or… it was a setup. I thought everything was a setup at least once before actually participating in it. You can see why it's so difficult to connect and organize in a world like this. This was the most recklessly trusting thing I'd done since outing myself to Pinkie Pie.

I put my back to the wall at the mouth of an alley and lit up a cigarette. My eyes jittered across the vacant square, scanning for threats or my contact. I did not want to be out here any longer than necessary, especially at night. It was going to be curfew in less than an hour.

I looked back at my trio of deaf and blind witnesses. I'm still not completely clear on what gets you mind control and what gets you executed. I think Sombra knows that breaking ponies into submission is far more gratifying than just assuming total control. What he did to Rainbow Dash was enough to get the remaining Mane Six to voluntarily disband and send shivers down the spine of anyone who heard her name ever after.

I crushed the cigarette into the snow under my hoof and immediately lit another one. I couldn't help it when I was this nervous. I sighed smoke and looked up from the red ember to see two pegasai guards on the ground, zeroing in on me from. My heart began to race. Fuck, it was a setup. I knew it.

"Hey, you," called the pegasus mare gruffly. "No loitering."

I grinned stupidly at her and shrugged. "I'm not loitering; I'm smoking."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Get moving, smart ass. There's more room on that scaffold."

I skulked away apologetically and went to the other end of the square like I was walking home. I cast one look back before vanishing around the corner to see that they were now loitering in my spot. Well, now what? Frustrated but on edge, I began scanning the neighborhood for a hopeful fallback solution when I slammed into someone.

"Oh, shit," I gasped in terror, letting the cigarette fly from my mouth.

"Here it is," hissed the stallion, holding up a cloaked tome to me. "Got the money?"

"Hold on," I panted, brushing the cloth aside to reveal a dark brown cover with golden embossed details. I feverishly flipped it open with my magic and fluttered through the pages.

"C'mon," he grunted fearfully.

I looked up and down the street and then stopped on a page with the word 'Diamond Cutter.' This was it.

"Okay, here." I passed him my entire satchel not wanting to prolong the meeting and risk another run-in, now with contraband.

He peeked inside to check the bits but I was already in the process of turning away.

"Sunburst sends his regards," murmured the stallion.

"What?" I spun around to look back but he was already gone. What the hell did he mean by that? Sunburst shouldn't know I'm alive and no one should assume that I know him personally… It was probably just a joke. The book was from the old empire library which meant either he stole it from under Sunburst's nose or Sunburst is getting a cut from the deal not knowing or caring who gets it. No… he knows what's in this book. He wouldn't just let anyone have it, would he? Whatever. I could be paranoid about it later. I needed to get off the streets. I wrapped my jaws around the concealed book and trotted away.

If you've seen one underclass apartment, you've seen them all, a torn folder in a rusty filing cabinet for haggard thralls and miscreants. If you're lucky, you get one less damaged by the dark crystal growth of the siege. Mine does have a nice view of my old place though. The glowing tower at the center of the city where my family and army were slaughtered was framed picturesquely by my dirty little window. As if I needed a reminder.

Over two years since I was first alone but if I'm not careful, it starts to feel like it all happened yesterday. I have no grave to cry on because they were never buried. I don’t even know if there was anything left to bury. Over two years and I still felt anxious in bed without Cadance. Over two years and I still found myself sitting bolt upright, thinking I needed to check on Flurry Heart because I hadn't heard her all night. The irony was that if she were still here, she'd probably be sleeping through the night by now. It was like I was lost in that moment of rending separation forever.

I didn't glower out the portal at the perverted golden playground for rich sycophants tonight; I had the next building block of my plan to distract me. I cracked open the book and went straight to the spell that I was placing my bets on.

"Diamond cutter," I muttered. "A practical spell for cutting almost anything." But not a very easy one, I thought scanning over the sizable mental incantation. I needed to learn this. What good was a shield without a sword? Those were the what if words that haunted every free moment in my brain. I could have saved them. I could have protected Equestria had I not been inadequate.

I closed the blinds and fished an empty milk carton out of the trash, setting it on my little dining table. Since recovering from the fight with Sombra, I'd been training myself in magical agility, stamina and multitasking in hopes of one day being able to go hoof to hoof, if it came to that, with a monster that could kill alicorns. The vast majority of my regimen takes place where nopony can see, either alone in my room or in my own dim corner of the mine. Why? Because if they think you can do any more with your horn than lift rocks and light your way, you're going to be in trouble.

My above average magical abilities require a continued ruse in where I act like a sniveling little candyass toward officials who I could easily reduce to a red smear on the ceiling. Granted it had been a while since I'd been in a real fight but I'd only gotten more powerful since.

I sat at the table and carefully read the instructions again, whispering the words to myself. I couldn't remember the last time I learned a spell from a book, probably junior year in college. As much as I like to brag about my magical prowess, my sister could likely sight-read this and have it mastered in five minutes… wherever she was.

I looked up at the milk carton with determination in my eyes. My horn glowed as I imagined the angle of attack. An ethereal crescent blade materialized in the air, hovering there momentarily before striking the carton like a little blue shooting star. The milk carton flew from the table and hit the wall as if I'd swatted it with my hoof.

Picking up the target with my magic, I examined the side. There was a little slice through the material a bit smaller than the diameter of a hoof My razor apparition only went through one side of the container before losing its sharpness but not its force.

I reset the carton on the table and did it again, yielding the same results. I did it again and again, each time cutting only one side and then knocking it to the floor. I kept doing it perhaps a dozen or more times until I finally jostled the carton without knocking it down. The front was now sliced to ribbons. I spun the target around, noting that there was one cut through the back.

All the way through.

I set it back down and then noticed the tabletop. "Oh, shit," I mumbled, scratching my hoof over a little score mark I'd left in the wood. Hardly a diamond cutter but it was huge progress in an otherwise stalled plot. One large step closer to retribution… or reunion.

I popped out the loose panel in my wall by the kitchen and stuffed the new book inside atop my revenge planner, a collection of news clippings, floorplans, spells, tactics, photos, some of which were old postcards and other reconnaissance.

I prefer the more dignified conspiracy journal over the lunatic full wall display. Though not as flashy, it's portable and easier to hide. Also I feel like if you do a full wall, you also have to rig your room with explosives and I don't want to blow myself up prematurely while trying to get cheese from the icebox at three AM.

I replaced the panel snugly and glanced at my watch. Ten minutes till curfew. If I hurried, I could still get some action.

Author's Note

I'm going to try something I've never done before: release a story in installments. While I write first and foremost for my own enjoyment, it's still disheartening to spend a month writing a story, release it in full and have it fly completely under the radar with <50 views. I'm hoping if I do it like this, I can generate a little more heat, maybe get feedback during development and also gauge interest in the story to temper my expectations accordingly.

Enjoy!