Carbon Copy

The train trundled along the tracks at a steady pace in near darkness, the gem lanterns having long since appearing on the walls. That simulation of night gave the slaves a time to rest and feel the warmed wind rush over their bodies. Ahead the conductor sat in a chair next to the fire, waking up every few minutes to put another piece of coal in the engine. Nothing seemed out of place. And yet the groups that were awake remained uneasy, expecting the phantoms of their captors to bind them in chains of iron once again. These were the guards who stood watch over their sleeping comrades with eyes pealed against the darkness.

Rustic Rune was among them, her muddled coat barely visible against the confining tunnel walls and staring her pale yellow uncle down. He'd left her. Nothing could be argued against it. The empty feeling in her stomach didn't make anything easier, the absence of food on the train drastically limiting the traveling range for the ponies and minotaurs, the griffins already showing that they hadn't been afraid to strip a carcass of meat. Still, Rustic Rune had felt a large shift in her perspective of her uncle. His sleeping form lay just beyond her eyesight, easily found by the raucous snoring coming from the aged set of lungs. The thud of metallic footsteps and gentle hiss of releasing hydraulic oil turner her head, her eyes scouring the polished metal that stood next to her sitting form with its arms crossed.

"Still think I'm a demon?"

The question was simple, yet loaded. On one hoof, if she answered yes, it would confirm trust issues. One the other, it might paint her in a light of an easily controlled personality. The deep orange mare flicked her tail against the wooden floor, annoyed that he'd chosen now to ask. "After that display, you really haven't convinced me otherwise."

The machine chuckled in response, a deep, hollow sound that boomed through his metal frame. "Good to see someone's still on their guard, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Before she could respond he'd already started walking towards the minotuars, swaying side to side to counter the uneven tracks. Tesla had a point though. She couldn't leave the issue unaddressed, to do so would create an awkwardness that would probably lead to anger and feuding. No, she needed to resolve it soon. But how?

Throaty laughter was heard over the roar of the wind, the bipeds sitting in a circle, letting out deep chortles that resounded off the stone walls. The sound might have been made by ghosts for all she knew, but the soft shimmer of red emitted from the back of the bobbing green serpentine mask Tesla wore gave away the source. Beyond him she could see few details of the minotaurs, their wounds blistered and black. Chasms spanning their chests, engulfing the light that shone upon them. In a strange way, they might have been seen as demons. The way the red light from Tesla's eyes highlighted their bodies in blood red with their closed wounds, which might have still been open had she not known any better, and the faint howls of throaty laughter might have been seen as malignant in a different context.

It looked like a scene from an illustrated legend. Warriors gathered around a fire after a successful hunt, their glimmering bodies reflecting fire in their sweat, giving illusions of cloaks of flame. Meanwhile their wild laughter mocked those that had fallen before them. In her mind's eye she pictured the battle scene with its dampened earth and eerie silence. She shuddered, feeling past ghosts coming back to haunt her. You die alone in battle. Not among friends, or family, but rather impaled or cut enough that you bleed out. The unfortunate die suffocating on their own blood, forced to wait on death's doorstep as he comes from his house to see who's knocking.

Tesla had a point though, even if he'd never said it directly: she needed to get herself together, or at least prepare for when she fell apart. Sighing, Rune laid down, resting her head on her hooves. She needed time, and for the moment, she had all the time she needed.

Tesla finished making his rounds, reassuring others and making light conversation. The people had been surprisingly articulate besides that pegas- no, griffin, Wintercrest. From what he'd gathered from Helena, who did not have the slightest sense of humor, he'd been born into a small family that had resided somewhere along a forest and mountain range. Amazingly, he'd still been capable of speech. Within the confines of the metal shell covering his brains, Tesla pieced together a theory, holding little proof, but making sense. If he was right, then maybe a tribe had been wiped out or separated several generations ago. Over time the language had suffered, changing from structured to broken down. It made sense, but didn't really have proof. It was something to think about later.

Inside, he felt a fear lurking, striking out at the feeble attempts to subdue it. It would be a matter of time before his breakdown made it to the surface, but something fundamental had changed. It was one thing to read Fight Club, watching passively as a character was mutilated, yet here he'd felt sick to his stomach. He'd condemned several to lives of chemical burns on their eyes and in their mouths, the diamond dog warriors crying out in shock as the effects of the lye set in. And to think, all that caused from a janitor's closet. Those were the base chemicals, not even designed weaponry.

He needed air.

A brief struggle to the front of the train let his head and shoulder lean out the side of the engine, the wind whistling to his eye slots. The stress was piling up on him, and he knew it, similar to the single move defining the rest of a chess match: he'd been beat, but now it was a matter of time. He was facing the fact that there was a hole in his memory, rather large at that, along with how easy it had been to inflict harm on others. And finally, what kicked it all off, was how he'd gotten into a new body and into this mythical world.

Soon a slight wobble in his vision entered his vision. It would have been normal, except that its origin was his shaking body. All this time, and he'd gone with the flow. There was no control, losing any sleight of hand he'd had in order to grasp the swirl of events he'd experienced. In the end, it was homicidal behavior that saved them. It wasn't careful planning, nor was it elegant. It was in cold blood, and he'd nearly lost control of his emotions.

Steeling himself away, he returned to the flatcars tugged along behind the wobbly grey train and sat down near the center, not trusting his body enough not to fall off. His reflexes weren't as good as they seemed despite the wake he'd left in battle earlier. He hugged his knees with his face in his arms. No tears sprung forth, nor did a cry of woe escape Tesla's mouth. Yet inside, he felt himself getting torn apart. He was a time bomb that was primed to go off with no way of knowing when the fuse would reach the explosive accelerant.

Against his wishes, and much to his chagrin, he felt a weight lean against him. He'd never been one for body contact. Wearily looking up, he found the smiling face of the brown Sky Sword whose name he couldn't remember.

"Hey, ya lookin' a bit down. What's the matter?" The brown pegasus spread a wing over Tesla's back, covering the black metal in a mass of feathers, and sat down beside him.

Tesla thought back, looking for the source of the boiling emotions, before he settled on something that had haunted him for a long while. "I think... it was exactly what I'd asked for several years ago."

"Oh, and that'd be?"

"The extent my mind will go to exact revenge, and how easily it is to carry out. Thank you, but I'd really rather not talk about it right now," he finished in a low voice, his emotional high ebbing. He smiled when he looked Wind Runner in the eye, glad that someone had talked to him.

"Anytime, Ya welcome," the pegasus patted him on the back twice, getting up and returning to the members of his crew.

Finally, he felt at ease, although the source of his concern displeased him. It had been something from a time long past, yet still reared its ugly head. Settling onto his back with his chin tucked tight against his chest, Tesla drifted off, letting the weight of his problems disappear with the blank void that would soon overcome his conscious self. He was almost asleep when he felt his body sliding across the worn boards towards the front of the train. It was a subtle reminder of inertia, something that seemed to have carried over from one world to another.

I need to set up some tests with magic. See if it follows the same laws as conventional physics. I'd need funding though... Say I'll design city defenses or something. That should establish a few contacts, let me get a network started. That reminds me...

"Hey, Rusty!" A low swear caught his ears as she trotted over, "Alright, I get. You don't like the nickname," he chided. "Look, I just have a few questions. I'm a bit new around here, and want some pointers."

Her silence gave Tesla pause, thinking he'd accidentally overstepped a boundary. He really needed to reestablish fluently reading body language. "I'll give you five questions. Make it fast, the train's slowing down and I want to get the buck out of here."

"The bu-" The machine cut himself off before he could finish the question, deciding to save asking about slang for later. "Erm, *cough.* How much has society adopted electricity?" He decided to gamble the first question, needing to establish a baseline for communications and such, or at least a standard of living.

The dark orange mare squinted at him, sizing up the thing sitting before her before relenting and giving an answer. "That really depends. Some of the music industry uses it, others use magic as a power source. The hospitals generally use magic though, I think they have electrical powered backups, but couldn't really tell you. Other than that, it's a novelty."

Come to think of it, most people would have said three. I wonder why she said five? "Let's see," he rubbed the back of his head with a clunky hand, feeling the train push him forward slightly further, "What are the people like? Are they skittish? Afraid?"  Instantly her face broke into a grin, the teenager across from the smiling mare realizing his mistake. The train station lights coming into view. I should not have elaborated, crossed his sullen mind. He'd lost his edge.

"You're down to one after this, and I really couldn't tell you about them. They could attack, or hide in fear. It depends on where we come up. As for the last two questions: I don't know. I'm not a tour guide," on her face rested a smug grin as the train pulled into the sunlit world for what seemed the first time.

Tesla got up, glad to have kept the sword despite the glares accompanying the pinched noses, and carried it in his left hand firmly, making sure to keep the edge to next to his metallic body. It would do no harm there, despite his instinct to carry the blade outward lest he fall and land on it. As he walked, off the train, he gave himself a smile behind his mask. Rune wasn't too far off yet, letting him catch up in a few strides.

"So, why does 'Rusty' bother you?" It was all he could do avoid the rock she shot at his head, The follow up rock made contact with his helmet, leaving a ringing sound resound throughout the empty train station. Odd thing was, he didn't feel any pain, all he'd felt was the resistance of his neck to the impact of the rock. "Do that again," he commanded, scared of the gnashing pit that was forming in his stomach from potential conclusions about his body. She obliged, glad to had a willing target for her venting anger.

Another ping of ringing metal echoed around the chamber as the conductor disembarked from the train, leaving the large steam engine resting on the tracks, lying in wait for an oncoming train of diamond dogs. It wasn't like he could park it off to the side either. Tesla looked at his arm, where he'd instinctively block the oncoming projectile. He never felt any pain or pressure, only the fact that he'd seen the projectile hit him was what made him aware of the event.

"Again," with the same result when it struck his chest. Blowing air out of his nose, he let the new information overwhelm him. "I can't feel." A small, choking laugh escaping past his lips, growing to a cackle as he slumped to the floor. His breakdown let a large portion of built up emotion to pass to the side. An imaginary tear was wiped from his eye as he looked back to the world around him, taking note of every face that had paused to look at him before he pushed back to his feet. "What?! You were't indirectly responsible for maiming several hundred people! Now git!"

Ponies and griffins alike walked aside him as he rested on the gentle gradient sloping toward a hole where the daylight shone through. Rune rested alongside the machine, shocked at his sudden outburst. She could practically see the manic smile he was wearing, despite his near featureless face. His shaking orange irises belied the stoic green mask he wore though, gazing to the world manically. Overall, she felt his sense of anguish, being in a similar situation before. That complete lack of control, forced to cope in an unfamiliar environment. He'd been dug out of the ground, potentially thousands of years later than when he'd been built.

A choked sob was heard next, the turmoil of emotion coming to pass again.

"I killed them. Scarred the inside of their lungs and burnt their eyes. Why am I even here?"

Rune consoled him, "You set free 42 slaves. That's got to be worth something."

Holding back an outburst, he swallowed his emotions, the definition of apathy sprung from his lips in the form of a question. "If you weren't affected by that, wouldn't you be hesitant to call yourself intelligent?" Afterwards he got up and left, leaving the dark maned unicorn to consider what he'd said. If she'd been in his shoes, would she have felt guilt? Of course not! They were diamond dogs, a lower form of life!

She caught herself, trapped by the logic she'd just used. If they were a lower form of life, then why was she held captive by them? Why couldn't the equines escape? They had magic on their side, a way to stop near anything from happening inside that hollowed volcano short of it becoming active again. She'd thought about escape, sure, but had never put into place any long term plans that would undermine the authority. She'd seen Fearlock though, his gnashing teeth brought together in a wicked smile as he severed heads as a form of demonstration. But, as far as she knew, there was never any form of rebellion.

Her inner debate halted with a tingle down her spine, realizing that most of the victims looked scared, not defiant. A pathetic symbol for a nonexistent cause. Slain for the sake of control, nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps a guard had taken disliking to that slave, tired of whipping it - them, not it - and let their alpha know that a sacrifice was ready, something to fill his blood lust.

A weight dragging his leg caught Tesla's attention, thinking his foot might have been caught under a rope or root. Instead, it was that same bothersome unicorn that had called him a demon.

She was balling, rivers of tears cleaning the dirt from her face. "I SOWWY!" She shrieked, once again turning the majority of looks back to the machine, generally in a condescending matter pondering what it had done. Her wailing continued though, uncontrollable shaking rattling her shoulders and torso. He quickly knelt down and placed a hind on her shoulder, hoping the contact would settle her down. It seemed like he got her attention when his thumb brushed her neck, her eyes growing wide and a hiss of surprise disrupting her breakdown. "You're freezing! Stop touching me!"

Geez, and she thought I was under stress.

Gradually the group emerged into sunlight, signs of recent desertion of the diamond dog camp ran rampant. A charcoal fire had been used recently, but with no way to tell what the weather had been like it could have been anywhere from a day to a week old. A meek dirt path lead away from the encampment, snaking into the woods with scattered paw prints. Directly opposite was a path similar, but leading to a distant town that smoldered in the distance. In the dirt were deep claw marks superseding the paw marks denting the earth. Whoever had been here had left in a hurry, seeming to run from the town.

Wind Runner and his gang were already gathering around, each wincing as their medical burns stretched. There was some debate of whether to go the town or not, but the need for medicine outweighed their desire to shirk the husk of a town. Beyond the city limits was a vast ocean, greatly contrasting the grey scale spot in the distance. Extensive repairs were underway, the carried sound of two man saws carried on a slight breeze as they worked to repair a trench dug through the heart of the town. The group ambled to the smoke in the distance, keeping a steady pace and a weary eye. They'd come too far, and weren't going to stop if they had to walk through hell itself.

Caution was tossed to the breeze when the last bend in the path revealed the town before them, a derelict place that needed a good cleaning to say the least. Thugs stood on corners, glaring at the newcomers. Tesla was still in the forest, feeling faint. He'd been struggling to keep up the last half of the journey, feeling his limbs lose responsiveness while his mind blotted out distractions. Gradually he came around the corner, trudging into the bustling hubbub of commerce that ground to a halt as he walked down Mane Street. A small voice in the back of his head was whispering something too faint to hear.

His vision went dark, then... nothing.

Slaves wandered free in the city of Mustang, going from store to store in search of help. This was a city on the fringe though, not a metropolis. Work was scarce, and most of them needed medical treatment because they were malnourished and cut, fearing infection. Slowly, the silver and green machine they owed their lives to stepped into the city limits, commanding a presence that forced those around him to pause and look onward. His stature was diminished though, his arms hanging limp, and his feet barely lifting off the ground. This wasn't the guardian that had opposed the diamond dogs, but a mere shadow. His masked face was cast downward as he stood in the middle of the street, eyes becoming black before he tilted forward, shins catching on his ankle guards, before flopping chest first onto the dirt street. An eternity of silence passed before the slaves ran from the crooks and shanties they'd been in, rushing to the side of their fallen comrade.

Wind Runner was the first there, his side taped with gauze as he violently shook the fallen biped to no avail. He was a warrior and knew basic medicine, but had no idea about machinery. Rustic Rune was next to arrive on the scene, shoving the mercenary off, disgustedly looking at him over her shoulder for such callous behavior. Slowly, she gathered a glowing aura around her horn, focusing the magical matrix to scan for enchantments, oblivious to the gathering crowd. To her surprise, the previously pulsing enchantments she'd taken while he was... what had he called himself? A Motorn? When he was smaller anyway, now they were creeks compared to great rivers.

Bracing herself again she tapped into her magic as she looked for where the basin of magic was. Staring from the head she worked down, painstakingly forcing herself to go slow, lest she miss something. Once the orange unicorn got to his chest, her violet eyes lit up, sending a shard of magic into a small gem on the front of his chest. She'd remembered it glowing before, but now it was lackluster. Briefly the orange eyes flickered, seeming to glance at the hooves to their side before going dark again. A rough shove interrupted her attempt to bring the machine back online, Rune's hooves twisting as she fell over Telsa's black metal back, growing hot from the prolonged exposure to the sun.

"We'll take it from here ma'am."

Rune couldn't believe it. She'd seen him as a titan, yet he fell to his knees. There was no mistaking it, she'd thought him invincible, yet there he'd been dragged away. The trench from where four work ponies had pulled him into a back alley was clearly visible in the dirt. She'd followed it to the back of a hospital, blocked by the burly workers that stood guard outside the door. After that the unicorn mare decided to call it a day, looking for any signs of a job opening. The desk clerk at the inn had very clearly laid out that customers had to pay up front, no exceptions, not even for freed slaves.

She'd taken to a pile of crates with some other slaves, gathered around a fire in a rusty oil barrel somepony'd found. The fumes were endured for the heat the flames gave off, yet each individual went about minding their own business. Quiet, distant stares into the swirling pseudo-plasma. One of the minotaurs was sitting on a crate, a grim scowl on his face. She suspected hers was much the same.

A voice from her side caught her off guard, more familiar than she'd have liked to imagine. Laced with sarcasm, and potent as always. That brown and white griffiness, Helena. "Freedom tastes great, doesn't it?" Rune sat there for a second, looking at the hybrid next to her. She was the descendant of an ancient race that had never been fully understood in modern times, and had left without a trace. "All the grandeur we couldn't have in the mines! The dirt, the air. Buck, even the trash is the Celestia damned same! Now we're slaves to circumstance rather than those dogs, but a least then I was guaranteed a meal."

Rune looked away, realizing the griffiness was right. The ponies had it easier, at least able to nibble at some grass, otherwise the griffins would be forced back into the trees to track deer or learn how to fish. The mercs would be able to pull some resources, even act as body guards if they needed to in order to have food and medical care. But honestly, if the purple eyed unicorn had anything to say herself, this wasn't the worst case scenario. Sure, they might be sleeping next to a barrel of burning oil and pine crates, but they were't curled up in cells anymore. They had room to move, fresh air to breathe, and the ability to choose their own paths again. That other griffin though, the one who'd struggled to complete a sentence... her body shuddered at what his life must be like right now. He seemed so fragile.

But when it all came down to it, was she any different?

Tesla.