Back to the Past 01: Grave New World

As the pony followed her new acquaintances into the bar, the assault on her senses was immediate and overpowering. A thumping resonated through the whole place, along with something that might possibly, loosely, be described as “music”. Holographic adverts flickered in the air, flaunting everything from futuristic gadgets to intergalactic delicacies. Creatures like she’d never seen before chattered in foreign dialects, which would in any case have been incomprehensible underneath the throbbing beat.

A quartet of creatures with luminous, segmented bodies haggled over what appeared to be an exchange of shimmering data crystals. Nearby, a cluster of varicolored and vaguely weasel-like beings, with insectile antennae sprouting from their heads, chirped and chittered while bouncing around one another in a sort of frantic dance.

The air was pungent with unfamiliar spices and the tang of synthetically aged beverages. The relentless thumping and the chatter of the crowd made it nearly impossible to think.

The pony was jostled from behind and stumbled, knocking into a high-top table and dislodging a drink. The liquid, glowing with an internal light, spilled and diffused across the surface. She turned to find a cluster of hulking, bipedal figures with gray skin like cracked leather and menacing metallic claws, their yellow eyes predatory and fixed on her.
"Blundering pony!" the largest of them rumbled, his voice gravelly and slurred.

"I—I'm truly sorry, I didn't see..." she tried.

"You think you can trample on Skarrans?" another interjected, stepping forward until his breath could be felt on the pony's face. A whiff of something sharp and metallic danced in the air between them.

Instinctively she tensed, preparing to summon the familiar comfort of her magic bubble. But the realization crashed over her that any spell cast would break her disguise and reveal her to everyone as an alicorn, and she wasn't ready for that.

Another scoffed, “These weak and stupid natives don’t even know what a Skarran is. But we can teach this one a lesson.” He scraped his metal claws together, the sound penetrating through the din of the room like fingernails on a blackboard.

The pony glanced around, searching for an escape path, but found herself boxed in. The other ponies who’d come in with her had already made themselves scarce. A pounding in her chest grew.

The creature in front lunged with a deceivingly graceful speed for his bulk, his claws aiming for her neck. She twisted out of reach, and, with the momentum of her evasion, she bucked and drove her rear hooves into his midsection. The impact resounded with a hollow thud, reverberating through the dense air and hurled the Skarran back against the bar.

Stirred into a frenzy, his companions roared and descended upon her. The pony’s eyes darted, anticipating blows, dodging. She tossed her head, catching one foe by surprise as she flipped him with her still-invisible horn. She hissed at the sharp pain of a cut from Skarran claws, but spun the alien with an off-center kick.

The pony was no pushover, but she was outnumbered and considered dropping the disguise and using her magic. That could end this fight quickly, but might raise an entirely new set of problems.

A raspy shriek was heard, very unlike the roars of the Skarrans, and a golden brown form appeared, as if out of nowhere from the pony’s perspective, and tore into one of the aliens with a sharp beak and her own talons. A griffin!

Now the pony and griffin fought side-by-side, and the aliens suddenly realized they’d bitten off more than they could chew. In what felt like mere moments, the dust settled from the brief yet intense skirmish. The antagonists beat a hasty retreat, their departure marked by a scatter of half-hearted threats and grumbled insults that did little to hide their humiliation.

The griffin turned to the pony, her eyes searching. "You alright?" she inquired, her tone suggesting both concern and a hint of respect for the pony's coolness under pressure.

The pony glanced at her injury, but although bleeding a little it seemed minor. "Yes, thank you," she nodded, acutely aware of her vulnerability had the griffin not intervened.

The griffin's keen eyes swept the room, her stature and reputation returning her to a sentinel's solitude. "Stick close. In this pit, you never know what's next."

The pony followed her new acquaintance to a quieter corner of the establishment, her mind racing with the close call and the realization that in this world, friends might be as crucial to survival as any magic she possessed.

They settled down in a booth, and the fierce griffin started conversation, saying, "You were looking kinda lost there, mare. Lucky for you I joined in, eh? I'm Heftig, by the way."

"Nice meeting you, Heftig. That's funny, I thought all griffins had names starting with a G?"

"Uh, no. Where did you get that idea? And what's your name? I bet it's some sappy pony name like Strawberry Sprinkles."

"It is not!" The pony then froze for a moment while Heftig looked expectantly. Despite all the effort she'd put into making her horn invisible, she hadn't thought of an alias. She didn't know if anyone would even remember her in this time—aside from Celestia, but that would be bad enough. Her mental gears spun. She was disguised as a pegasus. She needed a pegasus name. Lots of pegasus ponies had weather-related names. She blurted, "Cloud! I'm Cloud."

Heftig raised a skeptical brow and her eagle eye wandered to the pony's dark flank. "Cloud? As in, Black Cloud?"

"No! Haha, what? That would be silly. Uhh…" The mental gears whirred again. Pegasus ponies had the most martial history of the three tribes, and a lot of them had action names. "Strife!" she blurted. "That's me. Cloud Strife." She took a deep breath and silently congratulated herself for inventing a perfectly generic pegasus name on the spot.

Heftig raised her other eyebrow. "Well… Cloud Strife—if that is your real name, it don't matter to me nohow—I saw you on the Neverthink. That kinda spank we don't see too much of around here. If you're interested, my crew could use someone with your moves. So, I wonder what brings you to the city? Lookin' for something? Or someone?"

Cloud's eyes widened slightly at Heftig's offer. She hesitated, considering how to respond without revealing too much about her situation. "I, uh... I've been away for a very long time. This world is almost unrecognizable to me. I'm trying to understand what's happened, who's in charge now."

Heftig leaned back, her expression hardening. "Well, you're in the wrong place to get any straight answers, that's for sure. This whole stinking city is a cesspit run by gangs and crooks." She jerked her head towards the shadowy figures lurking around the bar. "There's a gang called the Iron Syndicate, they basically own the Gutter Level and squeeze protection money out of anyone trying to make an honest living down here."

Cloud frowned, her brow furrowing. "But surely there must be some proper authorities? A government, or..." She trailed off, seeing the sardonic look on the griffin's face.

"Listen, Cloud Strife..." Heftig leaned in closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "There's nobody coming to save us down here. The only 'authority' are the Commissars, and they're in on the Syndicate's rackets. We fend for ourselves or get ground under the Syndicate's heel."

She settled back, a fierce glint in her eye. "But me and my crew, we're not just gonna roll over. We call ourselves Iggy's Army, and we've been pushing back against the Syndicate's control of the Gutters. Guerilla hits on their operations, freeing folks from their protection rackets, that sort of thing."

Cloud was quiet for a moment, digesting this grim situation. While she'd been unconscious, turned to stone, the entire world had crumbled into a dystopian nightmare. The thought of the friendly, pastoral ponies she knew being forced into this harsh existence made her heart ache.

"I..." She looked up at Heftig, conviction burning in her eyes. "I want to help. If you'll have me, I'll join your army. I have... abilities that could be useful against these Iron Syndicate brutes."

Heftig gave a slow nod of approval. "Alright then. Let's go meet the rest of the crew, and you can show us what you've got." She slid out of the booth and started towards the exit, Cloud falling in beside her. "Welcome to the resistance, Cloud Strife."

As Heftig led Cloud through the squalid streets, relief washed over her. Finally, here was someone who seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and was willing to help. The griffin's strength and determination were evident in every step, and Cloud found herself drawn to her newfound ally.

They arrived at a nondescript doorway hidden between two towering buildings. Heftig pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit bar filled with an eclectic mix of creatures. The air was thick with the smell of stale alcohol and something sweet that Cloud couldn't identify, but there was an underlying current of camaraderie that the pony felt drawn to. Heftig said, "Aliens don't come here, or any of the grifters that leech off them."

Heftig made her way through the crowd, nodding and greeting various patrons along the way. She guided Cloud to a back room that was, apparently, reserved for her crew, several of whom were already hanging out. "Guys, this is Cloud. She's new to the area and could use a place to stay," Heftig introduced her.

The group looked up, their faces a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Woah!" one exclaimed, peering up at her looming form, twice the size of a typical pony mare. "That must be the absolute unit of a pegasus." The speaker was himself a slate-gray pegasus with a pair of goggles hanging from his neck. He wilted under the gaze of her draconic eyes. "uhh… Mean to say, glad you're gonna be on our side. I'm Nitro Peak."

"Glad to meet you, Nitro." She forced a smile, held out a hoof, and he hoof-bumped it in return. She'd learned these little gestures to help put ponies more at ease.

She took a seat, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. These creatures may not have been her friends from the past, but they were all she had now. As they introduced themselves, she got the impression that they were all outcasts in their own right.

There was a unicorn, Topaz Gemini, sporting a white pelt and an electric-blue mane looking slightly frazzled with a white streak through it. The sigil on her hip resembled an overly complicated light bulb, which only puzzled Cloud, but she didn't get a chance to ask. When introduced she barely mumbled a response.

"And over there's Handy Walter," Heftig indicated with a talon. "Whatever's broke, he can fix it."

Cloud's gaze followed the gesture to a human wearing mechanic coveralls marked with some stains and patches, and a belt loaded with tools and wires. He lifted a mug in salute and said, "I do what I can. In a world that's constantly on the fritz, somebody's got to be the wrench. Might as well be me, right?"

Heftig gestured to the donkey sitting across from Cloud. He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "This is Flicker," Heftig said. "He's got a real knack for disguise. Comes in handy when we need to sneak around unnoticed."

Flicker gave a nod of acknowledgment, eyes meeting Cloud's gaze with hazel eyes of slightly mismatched hues. "Hi," he said.

Something struck a chord in Cloud's memory. She studied Flicker intently, taking in his nondescript gray-brown coat and mane. He certainly looked like any other average donkey. Knack for disguise, though? She made an intuitive leap.

"You're a changeling, aren't you?" Cloud said suddenly.

Flicker's eyes widened in surprise, and the rest of the group stared at Cloud in disbelief. "What… How did you know?" Flicker asked, releasing a burst of cold, green flames as he morphed into his true form—jet black with sharp fangs, a curved horn and insectile wings. His featureless changeling eyes were still mismatched, though, one pure blue and the other skewing green.

"I once had a changeling friend named Flitter," Cloud explained with a wistful smile. "When I heard your name, I took a guess." She shrugged.

Flicker looked thoughtful. "I didn't think anyone could see through my disguise that easily. Especially not a pony."

Heftig let out an impressed chuckle. "Well, it seems our new friend here is more perceptive than we realized. Don't underestimate this one." Then she leaned toward Cloud and told her, in a serious tone, "Flicker here is one of the best advantages we've got. But this is one secret we have to keep, you understand? Changelings are rare, and folks get all paranoid if they think one's around. You dig my rap?"

"I understand," Cloud agreed. "It was the same way where I came from. Just before I was, um, born, there was an attempted changeling invasion. When I was a little filly, I remember the fear, and the magic emerald lanterns everywhere that would shine through a changeling's disguise. After I got to know Flitter, I hoped things would get better for them, but…" She shrugged helplessly.

Heftig nodded and leaned back, satisfied. The initial alarm faded from the others' faces. If Heftig trusted this newcomer, that was enough for them.

"So, this is the gang, the regulars at least. We've got a few more members who drift in and out. This is Iggy's Army." Heftig continued, her piercing amber eyes meeting Cloud's.

"Iggy?" Cloud wondered.

"Yeah, Insane Iggy ain't with us no more, but we'll never forget him. He brought this little crew together. Ever since he fell in battle, I've tried my best to uphold his dreams." Heftig's piercing amber eyes met Cloud's dragon-like, aqua-blue eyes as she continued, "We're always looking for those with unique skills to join our cause. With the Iron Syndicate's grip tightening more every day, squeezing the people down here, we need all the help we can get. What do you say?"

Cloud considered. This ragtag group was her only lifeline in this strange new world. And helping others had always been her purpose. "I'm in," she said firmly. "Whatever you need, I'll do my best."

The others grinned and patted Cloud on the back, welcoming her into their fold. For the first time since awakening, Cloud felt a spark of hope. With new allies by her side, perhaps she could find her purpose here after all.

As the night wore on, Cloud found herself drawn to Heftig. There was something about the griffin's determination and strength that she admired. "So, Cloud," Heftig said, leaning in close. "What brings you to our little corner of the world?"

Cloud took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before answering. She was tempted to tell Hefting everything. Heaven knew how much she wanted to talk with someone about her crazy situation. A thought held her back, though. Celestia didn't know about her, didn't know she was alive. Secrets that get out can't be pulled back. She decided to tell Heftig a carefully filtered version:

"I was caught up in some powerful magic, and I was locked in stone for a long time, I don't know how long. Maybe a thousand years," she said finally. "When I woke up, everything was different, and everyone and everything I knew was gone. I don't belong here, and I don't know how to get back to where I came from."

Heftig's beak hung open for a moment. Then she said, "For real? That's nuts!"

"I'll say," Nitro chimed in. "How did you even get turned to stone? I heard the Empress can do that."

Cloud lowered her head and said, "I'd rather not talk about that. It's all pretty raw to me, you know?"

Heftig nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "We all feel that way sometimes, Cloud. But maybe this world isn't so bad after all. We can make it better, together."

Heftig's talons clacked against the metal floor as she led Cloud through the labyrinthine passages of their converted warehouse. Pipes snaked along the walls, whispering secrets of water long since diverted. Dim lights hung from the ceiling, casting pools of light that seemed to dance away from the darkness.

"This way," Heftig said, her voice low but clear. She swept a wing towards a large door that slid open with a groan of protest.

Cloud entered behind her, eyes wide with curiosity. Inside, the vast space had been carved into zones by partitions and curtains. At one end, mats lay scattered across the floor where two griffins sparred, feathers ruffled in concentration. Their talons clinked in a rhythm of combat.

Nearby, a makeshift target range stood against one wall, pocked with the evidence of diligent practice using various projectiles and spells. "You'll need to be ready for anything," Heftig explained, watching Cloud take it all in. "Combat training is every morning. Accuracy drills follow."

Cloud nodded, absorbing the scene. Her eyes lingered on a unicorn concentrating on a target, horn aglow with focused energy. She recognized a kinship in the magical discipline required for such tasks.

Past the training areas, Heftig showed Cloud to where makeshift living quarters had been established. Bunks stacked three high occupied one corner, each offering minimal privacy with curtains drawn tight. "Rest is important," Heftig stated simply, gesturing towards the bunks. "You'll find yours there when you need it."

The tour continued through a communal kitchen where the aroma of cooking food brought comfort and familiarity. A group of various species sat together at a long table cobbled together from scavenged materials. "Food might not be fancy," Heftig said over her shoulder as they passed by, "but we make sure everyone gets their share."

Cloud glanced at the group, noticing an undercurrent of camaraderie despite the frugality of their surroundings. It was a stark contrast to the world outside where every individual seemed pitted against another for survival.

Heftig paused before an area cordoned off with heavy curtains and glanced back at Cloud. "Here's where we plan our missions," she murmured before pulling back the fabric.

Inside was a hub of activity; maps sprawled across tables and screens displayed various data points. Several individuals huddled discussing strategies with quiet intensity. "Operations are coordinated here," Heftig continued as they walked among the planners. "Information is power in this city."

Cloud noticed a screen flickering with images of Sceleste's statues and propaganda posters—reminders of who they fought against and why.

As they exited operations, Heftig pointed out other essentials: storage rooms filled with scavenged tech and supplies; workshops where tinkerers conjured up gadgets and gizmos out of scraps; and a small infirmary where healers tended to those who bore scars from their skirmishes against tyranny.

Heftig stopped before a door that looked sturdier than most. "This is my place," she said as she pushed it open to reveal an office that doubled as her quarters. The room was simple but organized; shelves held books and scrolls next to neatly stacked reports and documents. Her desk was covered in papers but lacked chaos—each stack purposeful.

"Leadership has its burdens," Heftig spoke softly as Cloud surveyed her sanctuary within this den of resistance. "Decisions weigh heavy here."

They left her office, and Heftig closed the door behind them with a resolute click. The tour neared its end as they walked back through the main hall toward where they had begun.

"And this," Heftig gestured grandly towards an open area that looked recently cleared out, "will be your training ground."

Cloud blinked in surprise as she took in what would become her personal space for honing her abilities.

"You've got much to learn about this world," Heftig continued firmly but not unkindly. Have you ever fought gnolls before?"

The pony frowned. "Not really. When I was little there was a clan of them not too far from my home, that called themselves the Diamond Dogs. They mostly stuck to themselves."

Heftig nodded and explained, "A lot of the Iron Syndicate's regular thugs what make the daily rounds and run the rackets are gnolls. Sometimes there's a minotaur to supervise them. All bipeds, which means they can use any kind of weapon pretty easily. Lucky for us they're not too bright, and they don't much like any tools more complicated than a blackjack or a Luger."

The griffin eyed Cloud speculatively. "I assume you're trained in pegasus combat. Most ponies are such little things, it's something else to stand by your side and have to look up at you. You look like a pluckin' war horse. Can't wait to see you in training."

"Ah aheh, sure. Pegasus warrior, that's me." Inwardly Cloud wondered how she'd manage in a fight without the spell-casting that she normally relied upon.

"Okay then, you can start with the crew at dawn."

The weight of what lay ahead settled on Cloud like dew on morning grass—cold but necessary for growth. She watched Heftig's face soften slightly as if sensing her thoughts.

"You're not alone here," Heftig reassured her before turning away to attend to another matter calling for her attention.

Cloud stood alone amidst the shadows and echoes of what once was just an empty warehouse but now served as home base for those daring enough to defy Sceleste's iron rule. Here was hope cobbled together by sheer willpower—fragile yet unyielding in its determination to survive another day.

Topaz's hooves clicked against the metal floor as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor until she slipped through a side door into a small, cluttered workshop. "You're late," came a raspy voice from the shadows. Topaz's ears flicked towards the sound as she picked her way carefully between piles of scrap metal and circuit boards. In the back corner, a lean changeling lounged next to a gutted old computer console, while Walter was rewiring the console's innards.

"Sorry, Flicker," Topaz replied, moving to stand beside him. "I had to review the internal security system."

Flicker's wings buzzed testily. "Not sure why we bother with that. It's topside you've got to watch for the Commissars. This about our new guest?"

Topaz nodded. "I don't trust her. She's such a giant. And that black coat, those strange eyes… That ain't no normal pony. She could be a Commissar. No, scratch that, the Commissars don't have anyone like that. She's some kind of freaky Edgelord."

Flicker made a derisive clicking sound. "No, they don't have anything like her, and I didn't get that feeling. Commissars always set my elytra itching." His tone softened slightly as he added, "Still, can't say I'm comfortable with her being here either. We know next to nothing about who or what she is."

"I think she seems nice," Walter commented without looking up from the electrical work he was absorbed in. "Didn't you see how curious she was about everything? Like it was all new to her."

Topaz scowled. "That's exactly why we can't trust her. A real resident of the lower levels would know their way around. She's an outsider."

"Maybe she has amnesia?" Flicker offered hopefully. "Got zapped by the Cube or something?"

Walter clucked his tongue. "You've been watching too many dramas, kid. The Death Cube doesn't cause amnesia, it causes ashes." He turned his attention back to the computer. "No, there's something more going on with our mysterious guest. The question is what."

Topaz reached with a hoof to nudge the changeling's shoulder. "Can't you read her mind or something?"

"I can sense emotions, not thoughts. For whatever its worth, I'm not getting any sort of Edgelord vibe from her. No matter how much she looks like one."

Topaz's ears flattened as she voiced her darkest fear. "Maybe she can hide her real feelings. What if the Empress made her? What if she's a monster meant to destroy us from within?"

Flicker's eyes widened. "You really think she could be a demon?"

"It's possible," Topaz insisted. "Dark magic is the only explanation for her unnatural appearance. We all felt that powerful aura around her."

Flicker blinked. "Uhh. Did we now?"

Walter made a noncommittal grunt. "I'll admit she seems... unique. But a demon? That's a bit much."

"Is it though?" Topaz began to pace. "We know the Empress has access to ancient magical forces beyond our understanding. What's to stop her from conjuring up a hellbeast to infiltrate and annihilate us?"

Flicker shivered. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that, Topaz. She seemed okay to me. And besides, we're a bunch of nobodies. To the Empress we're not even worth the trouble of stepping on."

Walter abruptly closed the computer panel with a sharp snap. "Enough speculation. We'll keep an eye on her, but Heftig trusts her for now, so we should too." He glanced sidelong at Topaz. "Still, discretion is wise. The less she knows, the better."

Topaz nodded reluctantly. "You're right, of course. I just hope Heftig knows what she's doing with this one." Her eyes narrowed. "And if our 'guest' proves to be more than she seems, I'll be ready."

Walter rose with a groan, joints creaking. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. We've got enough trouble topside without bringing more down here." He gestured to the door. "Back to work, both of you. We'll watch and wait."

Flicker and Topaz headed for the exit, minds churning uneasily over the true nature of their peculiar new ally—and what it might mean for the future of their gang.

Cloud settled into a routine with the rebels of Iggy's Army over the next few days. Though she was still wary of many of the strange technologies and customs of this unfamiliar world, the camaraderie and sense of purpose she felt among the ragtag group was comforting.

Each morning she rose with the others in the drafty sleeping quarters, yawning as she shuffled past makeshift bunks cobbled together from scrap metal and torn mattresses. Breakfast was a humble affair, usually some form of protein kibble and synthetic caffeine rationed out to fuel them for morning training.

The sessions were grueling, even for Cloud's deceptively powerful physique. Under Heftig's stern guidance, the recruits dueled with weapons crafted from pipes, springs and other salvaged parts. Cloud practiced fighting in the pegasus style, with powerful strikes of wings and hooves, as well as using wing blades and lance. Despite her size and large, powerful wings, these were not well-developed skills for her. In the guise of a pegasus she couldn't demonstrate her spell-casting abilities. In addition, Cloud had to go easy on her injured wing, which was healing but still not feeling back to 100%.

She winced as she fumbled with the unwieldy polearm she had been issued, its handle bound to her body with a crude harness. Across from her, now magically transformed into a griffin (though still with mismatched eyes, Cloud noticed), Flicker effortlessly wielded a similar pike with his avian claws, the blades on each end slicing dangerously close to Cloud's legs.

"Eyes up high, rookie!" the griffin shouted, before sweeping Cloud's hooves out from under her with a swift crack of his weapon. She landed hard on her back with a whuff of air, polearm clattering to the floor.

"You fight like you've never held a real weapon before," Flicker commented, offering a clawed hand to help her up.

Cloud grimaced, rubbing at a growing bruise on her side. She'd fought her share of battles, but explaining would raise too many questions about her past. "I'm just rusty," she demurred. More training would help her adapt to this new form of combat. With time and practice, surely she could master these unusual arms.

The afternoons were devoted to learning about the technology that now permeated every aspect of society. Heftig's second-in-command, Topaz, led these lessons. To Cloud, each strange device and glowing screen was like something out of a dime novel or comic book.

She struggled through basic training on the clunky datapads they all wore, usually strapped to an arm. The unit could project images and data, track locations, communicate instantly over vast distances, and even administer first aid through small robotic appendages. Yet despite Topaz's patient guidance, Cloud found herself staring blankly as the other recruits effortlessly navigated through menus and functions.

"Is the operating system not adapting correctly to your species?" Topaz inquired. "I know it's awkward for ponies without hands or a horn, but the pad should respond to voice commands. You don't always have to rely on the stylus in your mouth."

"Oh, um, yes… that must be it," Cloud mumbled around the plastic stylus. It would have been so much easier if her present disguise didn't prevent her from using magic to manipulate the stylus, just as Topaz did. And yet, she had never seen anything remotely like these advanced gadgets. Their inner workings were as mysterious to her as the most powerful unicorn magics.

By evening, Cloud was exhausted. She picked half-heartedly at dinner, some form of processed algae cakes, too tired to muster her usual appetite. The others chatted and laughed around her, but their discussions of sports teams, the neverthink feed, and something called "memez" washed over her without comprehension.

At times, homesickness threatened to overwhelm her. She lay awake long into the night, listening to the sounds of the city outside, so unlike the woods and meadows around her old home. Everything here was harsh and unfamiliar, keeping her nerves unsettled.

Yet, when she rose the next day and saw Heftig beaming with pride in the middle of training, or Topaz patiently demonstrating how to reset the datapad for the dozenth time, or Nitro including her in the dinner conversations with a wink and a grin, she felt the faintest spark of belonging.

Nitro leaned against the wall, upright with arms crossed as he watched Cloud practice swinging the length of pipe back and forth. She considered it a ridiculous and probably useless weapon, at least when used this way. With her magic she could have turned it into a devastating projectile. With a sigh, she let the pipe drop to the floor. "I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of this," she said.

Nitro pushed off from the wall and walked over. "You're doing fine. It just takes time to get used to something so different."

He picked up the pipe and gave it a few casual twirls, rearing and using his forelegs and wings masterfully. The smooth, practiced motions highlighted just how inept Cloud still was by comparison.

"Maybe for you it's easy," Cloud said. "But I wasn't built to fight like this."

"None of us were." Nitro set the pipe back down with a hollow clang that echoed through the empty warehouse. "We've all had to learn the hard way."

Cloud studied the young pony standing across from her. Beneath his laid back demeanor, she sensed a deep well of anger and pain. She wondered what he had been through to end up here, an outcast rebel in this strange future world. "What's your story, Nitro?" she asked gently. "If you don't mind sharing, I'd like to know how you joined up with Iggy's Army."

Nitro tensed, old wounds rising to the surface. For a moment Cloud thought he might refuse to answer. But then he turned and slid down the wall into a sitting position. Cloud joined him there on the cold concrete floor.

"I grew up in the Warrens," Nitro began, naming the poorest district in the city. "My parents both worked themselves to the bone trying to scrape together enough kopins to keep food on the table. The Upper City fat cats made sure wages down here stayed gutted while prices kept rising."

He kicked idly, scuffing the floor. "We were too poor to get me a proper education or train me for a licensed trade. My only option was to start running with the local gangs doing odd jobs when I was still just a kid. Nothing major at first—keeping watch, delivering messages, that kind of thing."

Cloud listened intently, trying to imagine the hardships this young stallion had endured. Her heart ached for the innocent child he had once been.

"Eventually I worked my way up the ranks a bit," Nitro continued. "The jobs got bigger and more dangerous. Robberies, beatings, even an assassination. All for a handful of kopins tossed my way by the Iron Syndicate." The anger in his voice then was palpable. Cloud remained quiet, letting him vent his frustrations.

"The worst was when they started having me plant bombs to 'send messages' or create distractions. I must've blown up half a dozen buildings around here." He shook his head, disgusted with himself.

"I finally snapped one day when my target was a little bakery in the Warrens. My own neighbors. For the first time, I refused to follow orders. Told the Syndicate captain he could stick his bomb up his…"

Nitro trailed off, then shrugged. "Well, you can imagine how he took that. I barely escaped with my life. Went into hiding down here in the tunnels and sewers. Eventually I crossed paths with Iggy and his crew and saw a chance to use my skills for something meaningful."

He turned to Cloud then, his expression earnest. "So I get why you hate it here. This whole city—the Gutter Level especially—it grinds people down into nothing. But we can't give up. Together we can make it better."

Cloud nodded slowly. She certainly understood his motivations more clearly now. But one thing still puzzled her. "Why does nobody seem concerned about Sceleste?" she asked. "Her empire caused all this suffering in the first place."

Nitro stiffened, suddenly wary. "What does she have to do with any of this? If she knew what things are like down here, she'd put a stop to it. She's got a whole world to run, you know? She can't be everywhere. It's the Syndicates and their Council lapdogs that keep us down here struggling day to day."

Cloud frowned but said nothing more. She wished she had a changeling's emotional sense and could tell how Nitro really felt, but it was obvious she wasn't going to get anywhere by grilling him about Celestia.

Cloud sighed as she stared at the pile of rusty pipe segments and scrap metal filling the corner of the warehouse. When Heftig had asked her to sort through the junk and separate out anything useful for weapons or armor, it had seemed like a simple enough task. But now, surveying the haphazard mound, she felt overwhelmed.

With another sigh, Cloud resigned herself to the chore and stepped up to the pile. She glanced around furtively, reassuring herself that she was alone. Then she allowed her illusion spell to drop, revealing her spiraled horn. Flexing her neck muscles, she concentrated on grasping several pieces of metal at once with her telekinesis. The pipes and sheets of metal trembled, then began slowly rising into the air as Cloud's magic took hold.

Guiding the floating metal objects with care, Cloud neatly sorted them into bins along the wall labeled "Weapons," "Armor," and "Scrap." Levitating this many heavy objects would have been a tough challenge to the average unicorn, but her magical strength was exceptional. The task went much quicker than if she had been forced to physically haul each segment by hoof and mouth, as if she'd even been willing to get her mouth near the grungy junk.

Within a few minutes, Cloud had cleared over half the junk pile. As she was carefully lowering another bundle of pipes into the weapons bin, a faint skittering sound caught her attention. Her ears swiveled, homing in on the noise. Mice most likely, she thought. This old warehouse seemed to have no shortage of them.

With the last pipe deposited, Cloud resumed her work. Her earlier wariness about revealing her magic had faded. This corner of the rebel base seemed deserted at this hour, and she finally felt comfortable embracing her true abilities. As she swiftly sorted metal with her telekinesis, Cloud allowed her thoughts to wander. She felt a pang of homesickness for Equestria, the land she had known so long ago. How she missed her friends, her brother and her mother...

Cloud was so lost in reminiscence that she didn't hear the approaching steps until the last second. With a startled whinny, she dropped the metal she had been levitating, throwing up her illusion spell just as Heftig trotted into view.

"Whoa there!" Heftig said, hopping back as a shower of bolts and washers rained down. "Steady on, Cloud!"

"S-sorry!" Cloud stammered, cursing herself for letting her guard down. If Heftig had come in a few seconds sooner... "You startled me."

Heftig chuckled. "No harm done. Just thought I'd check and see how you were getting on." She surveyed the piles of sorted material. "Hey, not bad! You've made a good dent in this mess already."

Cloud managed a weak smile. "Yeah, I've been working at it. How's everything else going?"

"Oh, same old," Heftig replied with a flap of her wings. "Flicker and Topaz are still bickering over the duty roster. And I think Nitro blew himself up again... just a little."

As Heftig rambled on, Cloud tried to act casual, hoping desperately that her secret was still safe. After a few more minutes of idle chatter, Heftig left her to finish the chore. Cloud waited some moments before finally allowing herself to breathe easy. That had been close. Too close. She would have to be more careful from now on.

With slightly trembling hooves, Cloud returned to sifting junk. She no longer dared risk further use of magic. The pile of scrap seemed to have doubled in size now that she was reduced to slowly picking through it piece by piece. After an hour of mind-numbing work, she decided to take a short break.

Cloud left the warehouse floor and headed down a dingy hallway to the small bathroom shared by all the rebels. After splashing some rusty water on her face, she stared critically at her reflection in the spotted mirror. Her coat was dull and dust-covered, her mane disheveled. With a small surge of magic, she tidied herself up, smoothing her mane back into place. She'd gotten pretty good at dropping the invisibility spell from her horn and then quickly re-casting it.

Refreshed, Cloud headed back toward the warehouse. But as she passed by the door to Topaz's surveillance room, a flickering light caught her eye. Curious, she poked her head inside. The small, closet-like room was empty, the monitors glowing with scenes from around the interior of the warehouse headquarters.

Cloud paused, fascinated as always by this unfamiliar technology. It seemed like a form of scrying, but she didn't sense any magical energy whatsoever. Could clever machines really do something like this? She noted with mild alarm that one of the screens depicted the same area where she'd just been working. She reflected, it was pure luck that Topaz hadn't been here at her station watching.

Or had she? Maybe she wasn't here exactly because she'd already gone to inform others of what she'd seen. A knot of anxiety twisted in Cloud's belly, but it seemed there was nothing she could do except pray for luck—and be much more careful about her use of magic from here on out.