Fallout of Equestria: Bad Gambit

Ponies sell ponies. This wasn't a hard concept to grasp. It made sense. For the stronger, smarter, and faster to oppress the weak was just nature. The strongest thrived, the weak tried to survive, and the weakest died. It made sense that, in an attempt to survive, some of the weaker would subjugate themselves in return for the opportunity to live on, even if it meant that they wouldn't thrive. And furthermore, it made sense that once this practice became established, the stronger would continue to seek out weaker ponies to subjugate in order to make their lives easier, to make a profit, and to further thrive by exploiting the weak.

What didn't make sense was that the strong would build such a ridiculous structure for the transactions of the subjugated to the ones in power to take place.

The monstrosity of architecture must have stood twenty stories tall, a conglomeration of metal, stone and clouds, held together with an array of adhesives ranging from glue to duct tape from the look of it, and the loud but gentle hum was enough to make anyone understand that without magic, this thing wouldn't be standing. The design was like a Cloudeseum out of an old textbook, but stretched upwards so that it stood proportionately like a roll of bits. My pipbuck beeped as I made the mistake of following the structure all the way into where it began to disappear into the wisps of clouds. I nearly shuddered to think that anyone would go up there at all, much less willingly.

"So, we're headed to the very top floor."

Damn it.

Angel gave me a wicked grin. "We have a prime slave to sell, after all. Big, strong, fast, ignorant, and most of all, compliant." Her hoof patted my head. My ears drooped. Then her tone got serious. "Because of this, we're probably going to leave our weapons at the... which floor was it?"

"Eighteenth." Dasher said confidently.

"Right. We'll have to leave our weapons at on the eighteenth floor, along with all but three ponies, so I'm going to want our big guns going with me to protect our... asset. That means Rock Smasher and Daring Daggers. You guys okay with splitting up?"

Smasher and Dasher gave each other a glance, then Dasher smiled and nodded, and Smasher nodded his consent. Daggers gave Salts a huge hug and began tearing up, but nodded her consent.

"Hey!" Slash yelled in a hurt tone, "Why the fuck am I not one of the big guns?!"

Angel narrowed her eyes. "Slashy Songs, when the fuck have you EVER been one of our big guns?"

Slash stared at the ground. "Maybe if you'd just let me try..."

Angel sighed. "Fine. If you can beat Smasher or Daggers in a hoofwrestling contest, you can be a big gun."

Slash had hopped up from where he sat and ran over to Daggers before Angel even finished talking, biting her tail and dragging her over to a medium sized boulder where he plopped down and slammed his right foreleg onto the rock face. Daggers gave Angel glance, then set her hoof on the boulder when Angel nodded.

"Okay, on the count of three," Slash said quickly, "One, twothree!" His words slurred together as he pushed his hoof down as hard as he could. Daggers did all she could to keep her hoof from being crushed down into the boulder, but was losing surely, if slowly.

Her bubbly grin slowly crept back across her face. Her hoof stopped shaking. Slash's eyes widened.

A burnt orange aura enveloped Slash, and he shot upwards from the table, barely holding onto Daggers' hand. He gave a sheepish grin. Daggers' smile widened as she slammed him back into the earth, taking his hoof to the boulder with a thud.

"No fair!" He whined. "She used magic!"

"And do you think that someone in the Colosseum is going to hesitate to press their advantage?" Angel said, her voice harsh. She finished messing around with her special guns and turned back to slash, staring disapprovingly.

He grunted and walked back to his gear, shouldering it and mumbling under his breath.

"That's what I thought. Let's get to work, kiddies." She commanded as she began to walk towards the tower slowly, showing no weakness. The rest of her companions followed suit, walking with a casual step that left neither weakness nor sign of hesitation. I waddled after them, trying not to step on the cracks in the ground.

The doors of the Colosseum was... daunting to say the least. They reached my height several times over, and were carved with graphic scenes depicting both death and sex, and sometimes both. Two guards, both ponies nearly my size, and about the same height and girth as Rock smasher, stood decked out in armor made entirely from metal and thick rubber, with spikes raising from everywhere that wasn't a joint. Angel gave them a casual grin. "We're here to make some money boys."

The one on the right, with a dark blue mane and lighter blue coat showing though the visor of his helmet responded. "Just the one?" He let out a hearty laugh. "Fine as he is, I'd say ye've been slackin' on yer game." Angel's grin twisted at the corners.

"Yes Heavy, just one, but wait 'til you hear who caught him..." She leaned in close and both of the guards bent down and turned to hear her whisper. "Techno. Babylon." They both rose as one and roared with laughter. The laugh of the one on the left was unsettling to say the least, but genuine.

"So she did now did she?" Heavy pushed the guard of his helmet up and grinned. "Well, tell 'er I said congratulations. But that brings te question why ye're her and she ain't."

Angel sighed. "I... may have take the liberties of selling this one and handing her back the profits back in the Main." She frowned. "I guess I didn't really ask, but I don't want her around here as long as I can help it." Heavy grimaced and the one on the left nodded sagely.

"I c'n see the wisdom in that." Heavy said as he turned around and signaled something upwards with his hoof. The heavy wooden door of the Colosseum began to open, but rather than sliding outwards or inwards, it was pulled up into a thick, low floating cloud by gargantuan chains. "Go in as it pleases ye, though I'd suggest laying low of Third Law. He's on 'is period, as best I c'n judge." Angel nodded, and we passed under the enormous doors, which crashed down behind us just as we finished crossing the threshold.

The inside was just as terrible as the outside, a mixing pot of cultured splayed out like a dead animal. Here and there you could spot Zebrican lettering and inscriptions that had been torn from their rightful places, next to looted pieces of art from high society unicorns from before the war, which were balanced with Pegasus cloud sculptures and works that might have been genuinely original. There were even some residual gore from Minotaur and Goat cultures floating around. It was disgusting. Maybe it was just a bit of culture shock after coming out of the polished steel interior of my Stable, but I couldn't stand the place. But the hairs standing up on the back of my neck wasn't purely a result of the decor.

All around us were creatures from every race imaginable, and some more besides. There were Earth ponies aplenty, supplemented by unicorns and even pegasai. I suppose the Cloud architecture had to come from somewhere. The white and black coats of zebras flashed in the crowd, and Minotaurs stood high above the rest of the creatures, with the exception of a Lizard wearing a pair of brightly colored goggles who stood even taller than they. A reptilian eye flashed around cautiously and settled on me. Though I didn't consciously try to express either fear or anger, but my muscles tensed and I'm positive that I let out a low growl. Loud enough to be heard though the crowd, if one was listening for it. The Lizard's scaled teeth revealed themselves in a grin as the lizard stooped down and disappeared behind other ponies and minotaurs.

"The hell is wrong with you?!" Dasher said, swiftly smacking me on the back of the head. She looked around cautiously, then turned her gaze back to me. "You're lucky you tried to pull that shit down here on the first floor. If you'd've done that higher up, people might have noticed and we'd have had a harder time time selling you." I snorted and followed Angel, who was making her way though the crowd, pushing various out of her way.

That, at least, comforted me. As ponies and zebras, goats and minotaurs alike were pushed and shoved, they call called out insults and gave dirty looks.

They were more pony than I'd given them credit for. I let myself relax, but not to slack. My ears stayed perked, and my eyes still wandered, but I wasn't going to cause myself any bodily harm from stress. Before long, we arrived at an uncharacteristically spartan set of steel doors. Angel pressed a button on the frame and they slid open, revealing a large elevator. There were pegs on the floor, worn by constant use of chains. The slave elevator.

"Going up?" A shadow materialized out of the corner of the elevator. A Zebra. "What floor?" A Zebra Bellhop by the looks of it.

"Which of the High Floors are Third Law free?" Angel asked, her confident smile still emblazoned on her face. If she wore it much longer it was going to stick.

The Zebra laughed. It was... melodic, maybe. He certainly wasn't a pony who'd died his coat. "Good question. I'd say the Twenty eighth and Thirtieth are being the most lacking in chubby pony, assuming he hasn't used the stairs to wander about. At the pace he's waddling about at, I wouldn't expect either to be safe for long." As we piled into the elevator, he stood up on his hind legs and pulled down on a chain, causing the doors to slide back inwards. He'd probably opened them too.

"I'd say your best bet is the twenty eighth. He usually tries to go up in an attempt to disprove gravity, but I doubt you'd have more than an hour until he found his way there. Mayhaps you should go to the twenty ninth and simply wait until he's gone and sneak onto the floor, no?"

Angel frowned, but nodded. "Sneaking won't be easy with the type of people I'm bringing. Buffoons, the lot of them." Dasher snickered until her brother smacked her on the top of her head. "Take us up to the twenty eighth, my good Zebra."

"As you wish." He said, then coughed and adjusted his tone to the Middle Tongue, his casual smile disappeared and a more somber expression replaced it. "By agreeing to pass the eighteenth floor, you are also agreeing to submit yourself to the rules and regulations of the High Floors. Do you find yourself to be in agreement with these measures?"

"I do." Angel responded.

"And are you in all honesty planning to be up to no good on the floors to which I am going to take you?"

"I am." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, even as the corners of her grin turned up even more.

"Then in accordance to the fifth rule of the Colosseum of Injustice, I shall take it upon myself to escort you to the floor of your choosing, as long as you shall take it upon yourself to knock some heads in my name if the opportunity arises."

"I will."

"Our accord is completed. Let's, how you ponies are always saying, get to business, then." The Zebra stallion said, his face softening back into a cocky grin. He placed his hoof to the wall of the elevator behind him, and there was a crackle of dark electricity as lines of green and violet began to run from where his hoof came into contact with the hard steel, forming the lines of a circuit. My ears twitched in wonder. They'd formed a magic circuit in the middle of the wasteland. And they used it for turning on an elevator. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I was no unicorn, but magic circuits weren't supposed to work. They were perfect manners of conveyance of magicka in theory, but tests had always failed, at least from what I'd read.

What were these ponies doing differently?

Before I could reduce myself to simply glaring at the circuit, there was a grinding of gears and a whine of metal wire running across metal casings and the elevator lifted itself off the ground.

I was glad for the fact that we were in a elevator designed for the transport of slaves, because that meant there was plenty of room. No one had to come crushingly close to another, like one would have had to do in the maintenance elevator back in the Stable. Not that that stopped Daggers from hugging Salts as tightly as she could anyway. I was beginning to think she had a thing for her.

The elevator creaked and groaned as it passed level after level of low level scum and high class criminals. Not that I'd seen much of a law system in the wasteland, but it was probably to classify criminals by a moral standard similar to my own than by any perverted laws I'd find in the wastes. The elevator jerked and made unsettling noises at every single floor, threatening to drop like a rock at the shortest notice, making a rusty clanging at all of the metal floors and a softer, but just as frightening echo of twanging cables on the floors with cloud based supports. All throughout the ride, the magical hum rang through the air, seemingly tainted with the crackle of electricity. Though maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it was some sort of coalition of corruption.

The Elevator crunched to a halt. The Zebra smiled.

"The Eighteenth floor. You know how it goes." He said, gesturing out the door to where a thick, tan pony with a greasy rustled brown mane sat behind a set of metal bars on a counter with a large opening at the surface of the counter.

The rest of the floor was still quite spacious, despite the large quantity of room taken up by the counter and what I presumed was the weapons vault, and it was furnished practically with large, cushioned, backless benches, which were further decorated by ponies of every variety. Earth Pony, Unicorn, a Pegasai or two, and even what looked like a large, bipedal dog. It growled at me. I growled back.

Another swat and a frustrated look came from Daggers as she and the rest of the Slaver crew passed me and walked up to the counter. I followed the group. Each passed his or her weapon through the bars without conflict, or talking. Apparently the pony behind the bars recognized them and stowed their weapons away properly.

When it came turn for the mud brown, black maned pony of our group--Coin Shot, I think it was-- to give his weapon to the pony behind the counter, he placed his shotgun on the counter and received a glare in return.

"That it?" The Counter pony said in a voice as gruff as his appearance.

Coin Shot sighed, then began pulling weapons out of his pockets. He was like an old pony with pockets full of hard candies, if you replaced old with incredibly threatening, and hard candies with varieties of weapons I hadn't even seen in holovids or read of in books. By the time he finished fishing his last grenade out of his worn cap, it looked like there were enough weapons on the table to arm every single pony in the room twice over. There probably were.

The Counter pony glared at him. Coin Shot gave an indignant snort, then flicked his tail, tossing a wicked dagger into the air and catching it with his teeth, and set it on the counter.

"Happy?" The Counter pony frowned deeply.

"Very. Now get out of my sight." Coin Shot tsked and stalked off angrily to the rest of the group, who was waiting near the elevator.

And then it was my turn. Kinda. The Counter pony glared at my collar, then back to me. I shrugged. He rolled his eyes and shooed me off with a hoof. I reconvened with the rest of the group at the elevator, where the Zebra was standing just outside the elevator.

"You have agreed to the Accord of the Colosseum and disarmed peacefully, so now you may choose your retainers." He said his voice filling once more with formal purpose as Angel, Daggers, and Smasher walked past him into the elevator.

"These two." Angel said as she turned around in the elevator to face the Zebra. "I have chosen my guards and companions. I now request to be taken to the floor of my choosing."

"It shall be done as you wish." The Zebra said. Suddenly all eyes were on me. Still outside the elevator. Right.

I trotted into the elevator, trying not to shift my weight nervously. I'd never been sold off to the highest bidder before.

"Try not to cause any trouble." Angel said as the grate to the elevator began to close.

"But what if the other kids are meeeeeean to us?" Slash whined, doing his best impression of a spoiled foal. I really couldn't tell the difference between it and his normal way of speaking.

"Break a leg or four. Just don't be the one to start it." Angel said as the doors slammed shut. Before they did, I saw the wicked grin on Slash's face. I was suddenly glad to not be staying on the eighteenth floor.

* * *

Imagine a casino. Now replace all of the card tables and roulette wheels with pits full of slaves, and replace the stage of performers with very, very high class slaves, showing off their prowess as they were auctioned off to the highest bidder. And now add strippers. Strippers everywhere. I know that ponies usually don't wear clothes, but there was a certain something that the action of removing exceedingly skimpy clothing did for a stallion, or a mare for that matter, and the ponies that were dancing from seemingly randomly raised platforms throughout the room. I say room, but Grand Hall would probably be more appropriate a term. My eyes caught on a pegasai mare who's skimpy coverings were currently in the process of becoming even less foal appropriate. Her wings flexed, sleek muscles causing her fur to ripple subtly, emphasizing her every curve and crevice. Her lime green eyes flashed when she saw me staring, and the corners of her mouth turned up as she turned around in a movement that couldn't be justified by words. Pictures probably wouldn't do it either. I doubt a holovid could have pulled it off with all the magical effects implementation in the world. My ears shuddered violently.

I liked pegasai now.

A tug on my chain that near pulled me to the ground reminded me that there were other ponies in the world. Angel fixed me with a harsh glare, then sighed and pulled me towards the enormous stage at the far end of the Grand Hall.

Ooh, that meant I was a high class slave. Good for me.

Whips cracked as we walked past the pits full of lower slaves. Moans of pain filled the air alongside cruel and sadistic laughs. There was a loud thunk of hoof colliding with muzzle, and a particularly ugly light red, nearly pink, stallion crashed to the floor.

"Oho, so she wants to play, does she?" The stallion cooed as he rose back to his hooves, standing ferociously over a small filly, far to small to have made the sound that'd drawn my attention. A smear of blood across her left back hoof disproved my hypothesis. Her slave rags quivered as the ugly stallion towered over her, a look decorating his face that could only be described as terrible. The filly shivered in fear.

"Knock it off, Hope." An official shouted at the stallion. "Hands off the merchandise."

"Or what?" He shouted, spittle dripping from his mouth like malice dripped from his voice.

"Or we see if any of your ancestors were pegasai." The security officer tilted his head towards one of the gilt windows, completely unphased by the Hope's tone. He was definitely on my list of badasses.

The ugly stallion spat on the floor next to the filly. "I'm going to buy your ass," He said, "Then I'm going to make you regret that your grandparents ever thought about getting into the situation that gave them the slight possibility of an idea of fucking each other." The filly scampered away, and the ugly stallion grinned sickly. My ears twitched angrily. What an ass.

Speaking of asses, I was pulled thoroughly onto mine with a, at least to me, sudden jerk on the chain connected to the collar around my neck.

"Jeez, I'm finally seeing how Techno got a collar around your neck." The impatient look that adorned the trio's faces made me think that they'd been trying to get my attention for a while. They sighed collectively and began dragging me once more towards the large platform.

I tried to keep my head down as we made our way to the base of the platform, but it would've taken far more willpower than I had to keep from looking back to stare at the pegasai mare, still dancing, and still glancing in my direction and grinning whenever she caught me looking in generally ungentlecoltly places. I finally was able to tear my eyes from her perfect curvatures when I taught a nearby wall a lesson by ramming it with my head. Or maybe it taught me a lesson. It was hard to think with the overwhelming headache that was taking up residence in my skull.

"Angel, Baby!" A tall silver stallion walked over and... fake kissed Angel on the cheeks? "It's been too long, too long baby!"

She giggled, a genuine, horrifyingly feminine giggle, and pushed him away. "It's been a month Fair Trade."

"A month without seeing your beautiful face is like a lifetime without air, baby." He said. The way he talked reminded me of a cartoon character. High pitched and obnoxious. Angel and Daggers sure didn't seem to mind. Smasher just stared in all directions at once, never pausing in his search for danger. "And you too gorgeous!" He said, this time directed at Daggers, who didn't push him away when he did his fake kissy thingie.

"And here's my favorite big boy, back to say hello." He pushed his way past the mares and siddled up to Smasher. "And how've you been handsome?"

Smasher's stony demeanor faltered for a moment and he tried to avoid eye contact with the auctioneer pony. Well, who I assumed was an auctioneer pony. I mean, tux, quick voice, named 'Fair Trade'. It's not fair to judge any other pony by their name or cutie mark, prime example being a certain 'Sunshine Lollipops', but sometimes first impressions are the best and most accurate, and I'd've been willing to bet that this was one of them.

And then he moved on to me.

"And who is this lovely hunk of stallion you've brought for me to gobble all up?"

"That's our slave. I figured he seems in perfect condition, so we're selling him on the high floors." Angel explained.

Fair Trade rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'd have never have guessed. But what's his name, honey?"

"Oh, well that's... ah..." Angel tapped her hoof on the ground as if struggling to remember. "Slave?"

I gave her a flat glare. What a shitty master. Didn't even know my name. Wait. My ears twitched. Nopony knew my name. Not a single person still alive.

Fair Trade laughed. It was a nice laugh, considering it came from a stallion who sold slaves for a living. In a world where slavery was normal, I suppose the people in the business are probably just as normal as the rest. "Let me guess," He said, staring at my flank in a manner a bit too judgmental and observatory for my comfort, "You've got a sun eating a candy... Sunny Chew?"

I shook my head.

"Candied Glow?"

Another shake.

"Hot Bite?" He said, leaning far closer to me than would have been required under any circumstance with a very suggestive smile on his face. Well, maybe not any circumstance, but any that were likely.

I shook my head and backpedaled a bit.

"Candied Chew?" Daggers imput.

"Sunray Taffy?" Angel asked.

"Bright Sucker?" Fair Trade suggested.

More shakes of my head.

"Sunshine Lollipops." Rock Smasher said-- not even really a question, just an obligatory guess-- as he surveyed the constantly shifting crowd.

My ears quivered in pleasure at hearing my name out loud. Not many people called me by it, even back in the Stable. Just 'Hey you's and the like. I nodded.

"Huh." The three who'd been guessing most robustly let out a collective grunt of dissatisfaction. "That's a stupid name." They said at the same time.

"So what's your special talent then? Candy?" Fair Trade asked.

I shrugged. Daggers tried and failed to stifle a giggle as she fell onto the floor quivering with laughter.

"He's like a giant blank flank!" She said between wracking giggles.

Ouch. Right in the feels.

"Okay, so I'll put him on the next auction, head of the line." Fair Trade said as he began to walk away back to his post closer to the stage.

"Wait, when is that going to be?" Angel asked.

"Another fourty minutes or so, sweety. You just missed the last one." He said, vanishing into the crowd.

"Damnit." Angel grunted. "Bar?"

"Bar." Smasher grunted back, already turning to clear a path to the liquor counter.

If it hadn't have been called a bar, I doubt I would have stuck a name that simple to it myself. A bar is simple. It's a counter, behind which a pony with large amounts of ales and beers and various spirits sits, and where a pony can, for the right price or equivalent, obtain said alcohol. It can be large, but does not very often exceed more than  four or five feet behind the counter, and extends generally far more laterally than otherwise. Fights sometimes start here, due to the amounts of intoxicating liquors served without restriction --With the exceptions of age and money-- and due to the various types of people who wind up there.

It should not have a waterslide.

I'd like to further emphasis. There should not be a slide, which leads into a pool and is slicked by a flow of water, on which ponies have fun and enjoy themselves in a manner that follows in the nature of pre-war summers long gone.

This bar had a waterslide.

Needless to say, I was spellbound by the waterslide and could detract neither my attention from the slide itself, which was further surrounded by lush ferns and other greenery, or the beautiful mares who were using it. There might have been stallions too, but I was a bit stuck on the water slide and beautiful mares part.

A sudden chomp on my ear brought me back to Equestria to find Daggers chewing gleefully on my right ear. My left twitched in irritation.

"Isn't this how you like your mares?" Daggers jested. "Riding you and telling you where to go?"

I snorted. She giggled.

"Onwards noble steed!" She called as she flung her hoof out in the direction of the alcohol selling part of the bar.

Hear that? She called me a Noble Steed.

The part of the bar that sold alcohol was just as, if not even more-so, extravagant as the part that was a Luna-be-clopp't waterslide, decked out with furnishings from what looked like gold gilt drama sofas to toga wearing mares feeding the wealthier patrons some sort of... crunchy... mixture of fruit. It looked like it was to fruit as a mutt was to a dog. A crunchy muttfruit maybe.

Fortunately, there was a simpler region of the bar consisting of a simple polished and worn wooden counter where my party settled in. My chain was attached to a bar stool where I was directed to sit.

"What'd ya like?" Asked the brownish gold pony behind the counter, polishing an already sparkling glass.

"Beer."

"Whiskey."

"Apple Maretini!"

Twitcha-twitch.

"Got it, beer for muscles, whiskey for ms.Mohawk, Appletini for the hyper one, and a bottle of our finest wine for the slave." He said as he whirled around, sorting through and grabbing bottles with dexterity that seemed beyond the realms of pony agility. Within seconds our drinks were layed out in front of us with perfect precision, and the barpony was back to cleaning glasses.

"How much do we owe you Hopps?" Angel asked, frowning into her whiskey. The barpony laughed.

"You don't owe me anything. In fact, the next patron to walk up to this bar has offered to pay for all of your drinks himself." Hopps gave Angel a mischievous grin. Angel started to say something but was interrupted by a stallion slamming his hoof down on the bar, leaving a mar in the finely polished wood. It was the ugly stallion from before, flanked by a duo of stallions just as ugly and far larger than himself.

"Get me the best you got, and hurry it up!"

My teeth grit behind my lips.

"As you wish, Master Crushed Hope," He said, bending down beneath the counter and returning with a bottle of expensive looking wine --not as expensive as the one in front of me though-- and placed it in front of Crushed Hope, "That'll be four hundred and fifteen caps."

Crushed Hope took his more than evident frustration out on the bar again, leaving a second mark near the first. "That's ridiculous, last time I was here your best was only a hundred eighty!" He screamed.

"I'm sorry sir, but prices do tend to fluctuate out here in the wastes, as you know." Crushed Hope grumbled and nodded to one of his associates who forked over the caps. Hopps' grin remained both wide and confident as he picked up the sack of bottlecaps and placed it somewhere out of sight beneath the counter. Caps. What a weird mode of currency.

The ugly stallion took a seat a stool away from me, while his entourage stood, looking around attentively.

Hopps winked at Angel, who only sighed and downed her drink.

I looked at my own drink for the first time. A whole bottle of wine. My gaze shifted around the counter. No cups. My ears twitched. Oh well. I leaned over the counter and picked up the bottle with my teeth then held it in my hooves as I tugged the cork out with my teeth. It tasted... expensive. Very expensive.

"What's a slave doing here?" Crushed hope slurred between droughts of wine. "And drinking too?" With no further warning, a hoof slammed into my jaw, knocking me off balance enough to make me fall to the floor. The bottle of wine I'd been drinking flew through the air until I snatched it out of the air with my tail a moment before it shattered against the ground.

The barpony frowned and his eyes narrowed. "Now, Master Hope, this slave is neither yours nor is he your problem, and it is the owner's prerogative to have their slave do as it pleases them, not you."

"Right you are boy." The ugly stallion's muzzle split into a sick grin. "I suppose I'll just buy him then. How much for the big fucker?"

"He's not for sale, yet." Angel said, not looking up from her drink. "He'll be up at the next auction."

Crushed Hope frowned, obviously disgruntled by the fact that a seemingly common pony had just told him 'no'. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I knocked him around a bit, would ya?"

Angel's eyes flashed angrily. "Yes, I would mind. He's mine and I want him in peak condition when I sell him. I'm here to make money, Mr. Hope, not to act like a douche bag." Crushed Hope's nostrils flared. Not only had someone told him no, somepony'd told him no twice in a row.

"Well, fine then, that makes two pieces of trash I have to buy today to make a point." He snorted, then brought his face up to mine and stared directly into my eyes. His eyes were the color of tarnished silver, and filled with malice. "No one crosses Crushed Hope, and that means nopony, get it? I'm going to buy you, break you, then sell you."

But, I didn't cross... I didn't cross him. What?

"You hear me slave!?" He screamed at me, spittle practically drenching my face, "NOPONY! CROSSES! ME!"

My eyes narrowed. My eyes flickered to Angel, who shrugged.

Then he headbutted me. Or tried to, at least. A headbutt is an technique that is effective in very few situations, and in none of those is any part of the user's head supposed to come into contact with any part of the opponent's body or head that is hard. It is designed to deliver a quick and weighted blow into a soft part of the opponent. It shouldn't be used in a forehead to forehead manner, because that would damage both sides equally, assuming that both the user and his opponent are of similar sizes. Now, Crushed Hope might have been big by Wasteland pony standards, but to me, he was not. If he'd grown up in my vault, they'd probably have called him names. I was bigger than average for my vault. The point of the matter is, even as I was sitting down, I was taller than he was, and when his head tried to come into contact with my muzzle, I simply leaned forwards a little bit and let him collide with my forehead.

"No...pon...ey..." He slurred, more due to lack of consciousness this time than alcohol content or attitude. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. His guards stared at his limp body. I stared at his limp body. The slaver trio stared at his limp body. The mares who'd been feeding the high class ponies and the high class ponies themselves stared at his limp body. Ponies that had been going down the waterslide halted before leaping onto the slide and stared at his limp body.

Then, the enormous body guards of Crushed Hope started laughing. Entirely genuine, cracking up, rolling on the floor laughter poured from their mouths as their lungs emptied and their eyes started tearing up.

"Heh, dumb cunt." One of them said, throwing Crushed Hope over his back and starting to walk away, still giggling.

The other gulped air greedily as he tried to stop laughing, then rolled back onto his hooves and began following after the other. Before he passed out of eyesight, he turned back to me and saluted.

"Huh." Said Daggers, obviously striving to use all of the wit in her arsenal to sum up the situation.

"Huh." Added Angel, trying to add a bit of comedy to the situation.

"Huh." Smasher drawled, doing his best to ignore the racist undertone in Angel's comedic relief.

"..." I snorted.

"The nerve of some ponies," The barpony said, "he didn't even finish his drink." Hopps smiled at me, and slid the bottle to my seat over the counter. "More for you I suppose, slave." I shrugged and pulled myself back up onto the stool and put the bottle in my tail back onto the counter next to my new bottle.

The trio stayed silent as I chugged the first bottle and started on the second.

"Sunshine. Not only have you knocked out one of the most influential ponies in the wasteland, in the last five minutes you've drunk more than three hundred caps worth of wine." Angel said, the confusion in her voice nearly material. "Do you... understand anything?"

I stared at her flatly, my ears perked.

"This isn't really something I have to worry about, but you realize that he's going to be angry, right?"

I shrugged and nodded.

"And that when ponies are angry, then tend to lash out? Generally at whatever made them angry?"

I nodded, finishing off the last drops of wine in the second bottle, then balancing it mouth to mouth on top of the other.

"And you realize that with the amount of alcohol you've just consumed, you'll probably be drunk for the rest of the night, assuming your liver doesn't fail?"

I stared at the bottles. It hadn't tasted like all that much alcohol to me. I shrugged.

She turned to Smasher and Daggers. "I'm not sure he can comprehend sequence of events, or time. Maybe he is cracked." Smasher nodded. Daggers bit her lip and frowned.

What a load. I could understand sequential events better than any of them. It wasn't hard to see how things would go. Assuming that I was purchased by a lower class pony here, it wouldn't take Crushed Hope long to find me, buy me, or simply steal me, and then destroy me, assuming I didn't simply escape. If purchased by a middle class pony, I'd have a few days of Solace before Crushed Hope turned up to buy or steal me, but the dealings with would take longer and there would be more expenses on Crushed Hope's part. If, however, I was purchased by a very high class pony, it would take a decent amount of time to be found and bought, because it would lead to a multitude of problems for Crushed Hope if he tried to steal me, assuming that the high class pony was willing to sell.

The path was clear, all I had to do was be bought by a high class pony and prove my worth to an extent that he refused to sell me, or of course be bought by a enemy of Crushed Hope, though that would be harder to find in the time period I had. Easy peasy. I flicked the wine bottle off of its companion and slid both back over the counter to Hopps, who flipped them into a bin beneath the bar with his tail. Both landed perfectly on their bottoms with a clink.

My ears twitched. I looked back to see the slaver trio staring at me.

"You don't seem worried at all," Daggers said hopefully, "Do you have a plan?"

I nodded.

Angel narrowed her eyes. "Does it involve escaping?"

I shook my head.

Smasher glared at me. "You're going to get us in trouble." He muttered quietly, too quiet for the others to hear, but it wasn't hard for me to pick up.

"Well, whatever your plan is, you'd better not mess up our payday, got it Sunshine?" Angel said, slamming her hoof down on the counter. The barpony glared at her, and she grinned back sheepishly and tried to rub out the mark she'd made.

There was a chiming of bells, and a voice came over a very old and crackling, if well cared for speaker system. "The twelve o'clock auction will begin soon kiddos, so if you've got some savvy slaves you're looking to sell, get 'em on up here!" Fair Trade's voice faded even though the speakers continued to crackle for several seconds before being cut off near violently.

Angel sighed. "That's our cue." She pulled the chain to my collar off of the bar stool and reattached it to her armor, then trotted off to the stage dragging me behind her. We pushed through ponies of all types on our way to the stage, from rich ones to slaves like me. Angel seemed to be too distracted to give much of a shit about either as she shoved them out of the way.

"Fair Trade. Slave. Take him." Angel practically moaned.

"Angel, baby, are you... drunk? You've only been gone for thirty minutes! And, it's bad taste to get drunk before noon. Even if it's only by a few minutes." Fair Trade looked her over.

"Whiskey. Idiots. Bad combination. Take him." She said, detaching the chain from my neck and attempting to shove me over to Fair Trade. Instead she knocked herself of balance and nearly fell. "Start the bid wherever. Get me money." She stalked off into the crowd. Daggers waved goodbye enthusiastically and Smasher nodded.

Fair Trade gave me an appraising gaze. "I'd say... Two thousand. Hows that sound?"

I was worth ten bottles of the finest wine this place had to offer? Sounded fine to me. I nodded approvingly. Fair Trade grinned wickedly.

"So we'll start the bid at three." He said, nudging me towards a small stairway leading onto the stage, I hopped up the steps and found a place in the line of slaves that had already partially formed, right between the pale yellow green filly from before and a shaggy red unicorn stallion.

The filly stared at me silently.

I stared forwards, into the crowd.

She kept staring.

So did I.

She leaned forwards to look at my face.

I finally turned my gaze on her, and she squealed in terror and stood back up straight and stared out at the crowd as I'd been doing, as if to deny that she'd ever been staring at me.

Foals.

I went back to staring silently at the crowd, assessing who was and wasn't a good bet for who wouldn't let me go once they got me. Most seemed wishy-washy at best, but a small few seemed both proud and easily impressed. I'd aim for those. One in particular seemed interested in me, a white stallion with a blue and teal striped mane cut short and slicked back with a small black mustache and a grey suit with matching top hat. He was aiming for me. I'd have shuddered, but I didn't really care anymore.

"Ladies and Gentlecolts!" Fair Trade shouted over the static-y intercom through a jury-rigged microphone enveloped in a silver aura. "Welcome to the Twelve O'Clock Slave Auction! You folks know how this works, but I'll go over it once more for the slower among you; One hoof for a hundred caps, two for two hundred, a tail for fivehundred and all three for a thousand. Any higher or lower than the designated amounts are to be spoken, but remember that going below a hundred is generally bad form!"  The crowd laughed and jeered at his jests, filling the spaces between his voice with cheers.

"We'll start this bid off with a lovely locally grown stallion from the Main!" My ears twitched. Were they starting in the middle? "Don't be shy now, get on out here, our one and only... Scrubs!" The last pony on the line to my left, four from myself, took a couple of steps forwards, trembling. The crowd's cheers turned to shouts at the sight of the wimpy light green stallion.

"Oh shut up you!" Fair Trade said, roughly but not seriously. "I know he doesn't look like much, but this boy-o's probably just what you need for your more dangerous snatch and grab missions. He's a doctor, ish, and he's specialized in treating combat wounds! And also, I don't know quite myself, I hear he's rather compliant too... if you know what I mean." Fair Trade nudged the air suggestively and the crowd of slavers burst out into laughter. "So, he's a learned pony so lets start the bidding at-t-t-t... Two thousand caps!"

A collective cheer went up, and hooves began shooting up near as fast as Fair Trade could run off the price. Scrubs wound up selling for 3,450 caps to a pretty mare in black leather who led him off the stage in a collar also made of black leather and attached to her belt by a fine chain. She nuzzled him with sadistic affection. Her cruel smile would have given most men nightmares. I just snorted.

The next slave was a mare named Berry Smoothies, who was pretty tall for a mare, reaching almost to my muzzle, discounting her ears. She sold for 2,637, though the price would have continued to rise if it weren't for the fact that one of the multiple patrons bidding knocked another clean out, and the rest shut up after that. She was led crying from the stage. I growled under my breath, but I didn't move.

"And next we have the looooovely Ms. Wonderflash! I think this is our first pegasus of the day, and it's just as likely our last, so get her while she's hot! Though she'll be like that for years to judge, in my professional opinion. Starting the bid at five thousand caps!" The noise that issued forth from the audience was incomparable to anything that'd come before, the Grand hall filling with cheers and hundreds of hooves were flung into the air with reckless abandon.

"Let's see, Fivethousand twohundred, fivethousand sevenhundred, fivethousand eighthundred, sixthousand--(This went on for a good thirty seconds or so before silence filled the air), Eight thousand six hundred and twenty caps! Do I hear nine thousand?! Yes? No? I suppose not! Going once, going twice, going thrice and she's gone! To the gentleman in the tutu!" Fair Trade gave a helping hand to a large, well dressed stallion who was in fact indeed wearing a tutu. Wonderflash was lead struggling off of the stage, the sounds of her resistance lasted long after she disappeared into the crowd.

A mare wearing yellow sunglasses and a labcoat underneath her slave collar leapt forwards, thrusting her chest forwards in an attempt to emphasis her... existence.

"And now we haaaave... Lady Fantastic?" Fair Trade struggled with the name, squinting at a text filled piece of paper he held in front of himself with his magic.. "This says she's a scientist, good with pets, theoretical physicist and a complete moron." He looked up from his paper and frowned. "Starting bid... five hundred caps."

Lady Fantastic deflated when she heard her price and pawed at the ground as if depressed. She wound up selling for 732 caps to the stallion with a top hat.

"Next we have Dead Redemption, kind of an ominous name, starting bid... requested three thousand caps. He was born and raised in a small village north of here, yada yada, avenged loved ones or something... Talented in organization and strenuous telekinesis! There you go! Starting at two thousand five hundred!" The crowd shouted enthusiastically, filling the air with bids and some shouts that were shouted just to be shouted. Dead Redemption just stared at the crowd, resigned in his fate. When the final bid was called, he just walked forwards and let himself be chained and led away. It was a bit sad.

"And now we have a special treat, a Stable pony!" Fair Trade announced me, and the crowd responded vigorously.

I was a bit special, wasn't I?

"As you may have noticed, he's huge, to say the least, though I haven't had the chance to undertake an opinioning of his underjunk, but I doubt it'd be far to say that that's proportionate, so keep your eyes on this one ladies!" Fair Trade winked at the crowd. "Name of Sunshine Lollipops too, so I don't think it'd be particularly unfair to say that his special talent involves being sweet."

"A close friend of mine brought this one in and says that he's docile and compliant as a sheep, easy to control and not fond of disobeying orders. Starting the bid at three thousand!"

Cheers went up, especially with the mares. Fair Trade certainly did have a way with words.

A mare with long green leggings and a sky blue coat threw both forehooves into the air.

"Three thousand two hundred!"

A stallion with a gruff beard and cigar raised both of his forehooves and his tail.

"Three thousand seven hundred!"

Several more ponies flung hooves and tails into the air, and I could've sworn I saw a hand at one point.

"Five thousand six hundred!" Fair Trade shouted out into the crowd. "Do I hear six thousand?! Going once! Going twice! Aha! Six thousand from the gentleman in the back!" I followed his gaze to the Top hatted stallion.

Looks like I'd found my patron.