Fallout Equestria 'Working Class'

by TheDarcySupremest

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Adventure
Length: 16728

You may think you know who you truly are, but when all you have left is at risk, when what you hold the closest to you is at risk, you will see what it is you are beneath. Of course, that isn't to say you may not like what you find...

The Stalliongrad Loyalist State to many is considered to be a marvel of the new Equestria, a pinnicle of recovery since the world was cured of its poisons and the skies were opened once more. The Black to NCR's White.

The Loyalist State is shown, the lavish paradise of the ordinary pony, where a stallion and a mare can dictate their own future,.

With a powerful army joining it, the influence of this Nation of the ponies is quickly gaining influences and controlling more and more of New Equestria.

With the new world and its resources shrinking, all signs point to the New Canterlot Republic and the Stalliongrad Loyalist State heading to war. With the very real potential to reverse the last 20 years the world has recovered since The Lightbringer opened the skies and cleansed the lands.

But past the Iron curtain and the propaganda, there is a society of the downtrodden, the forgotten and the exploited.

The very resource that keeps the factories working, the resource that keeps the furnaces burning, keeping the tanks and bullets for the mighty Loyalist State running.

They are the Working Class.

And in this brave new world a young stallion named Nimbus, forced to grow up to protect his own sister Fable, after his family was torn to shreds by the regime of the Loyalist State, dreams of a safer future for him and his young sister.

But time is quickly dwindling to keep his fractured family in one piece.

Desperate to protect all he has left, Nimbus is pushed to his limit, surfacing what he truly is beneath his exterior, discovering a part of himself that he denied for years.

A part of him he locked away for years, out of fear of what it may do.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-15 16:00:49 UTC

Chapter 1 "A Very 'Happy' Birthday"

I looked out the rotten window into the cold clouded sky.

Another red dawn.

I pulled my tired self out of my bed. It was cold...really cold. It always is.

Not chilly, not nippy. It was cold.

The kind of cold that stung...that hurt.

I trotted my half-asleep limbs to the window.

Before the window of my small room the polluted snow came sprinkling down, covering the city streets in an ice sheet colored by brown coal.

Fable moaned and patted my place on our shared bed, noticing my absence before whimpering in the cold.

I sighed and returned to her, embracing the filly in my hooves and holding her as I leaned against the wall, stroking her mane.

"Nimbus...?" she sniffed quietly, her muzzle in my shoulder as she began crying.

I closed my eyes and hushed her "It's okay...It's okay...we still have an hour or two before we have to get up...go back to sleep..."

Fable shivered and curled up in my embrace. "How old would she have been today?" she asked.

I did what little math I knew in my head. "43" I said quietly.

"Happy...Birthday...Mother" Fable murmured.

I sighed, my stomach churning like someone was wringing it with their hooves. "Make a wish for her" I replied in a whisper.

Fable nodded, still weeping into my shoulder as she remembered...longed for the life we used to have.

I never wanted any of this...I just wanted to go to sleep, wake up and find all of this to be over.

Fable cried like so many other nights. I held her weak framed self and stroked her mane quietly.

In an hour I'd have to get up and go to work at Blacksmith...just like every other day in this accursed hell-hole of an orphanage.

"Nim' c...can you play the music box for me please?" she whispered sadly.

I smiled at her and reached over to the chipped wooden music box, flicking it open and winding the key. After I closed it again, the tiny cylinder began to spin and soft, calming music played quietly on the bedside cabinet.

I looked at the box, it was Fable’s last gift before our parents were arrested and taken away forever.

I looked down at my young sister as she held onto me in her restless sleep...she never deserved any of this, she was so young and innocent, I had to act as her father, but I hadn’t even gotten my cutie mark when our parents were taken away.

The box continued to play softly. I really didn’t like that music...It reminded me too much of what I used to have, and what I wanted back so desperately.

Fable whimpered as she finally fell asleep, I nuzzled her mane and whispered into her ear:

“It’ll get better for us one day, Fable...I’m finally old enough to adopt you...I’ll talk to Head Mistress Asphalt about it today, then we can finally leave this accursed place.” I closed my eyes and felt myself getting sleepy, too. “We’ll move to the NCR, and I’ll build a nice life for us both...” I rested my head against the cold wall and sighed.

“I promise, one day, it’ll get better for us.”

"Come on colts, it's work time, get going get going!" I heard one of the prefects yell as he walked past.

I slipped my trench-coat on to protect me from the cold outside.

I turned to Fable who hadn't dared to step out from under the blankets of our bed.

I kissed her forehead and smiled at her "As soon as I get back from my work period I'll talk to Asphalt and get some adoption papers for you, okay?"

Fable smiled at me and shivered "O...okay" she mumbled.

I picked her coat up in my teeth and brought it to her, wrapping her up in it and put her beneath the blankets again "Stay warm. Those assholes still haven't provided fireplaces in our rooms and I won't let you become part of the reason to get them to do it."

Fable buried her head in the bed and through the sheets her muffled voice spoke "I'll be fine, go before you get the cane for being late."

I nodded and stepped out into the rotten wood hallway.

Some of the bucks walked past. I had recently shot up in height and now towered over the other orphans. I was even a head taller than some of the prefects and masters.

I got a lot of foul looks from some of the orphans...I didn't get along with many of them.

I got picked on a lot when I was younger, but I assume my height and what little facial hair I had managed to grow made me look older and more intimidating.

I tightened the rags I had around each of my legs, which hid my greatest shame, before I got moving.

Some of the...luckier bucks got jobs such as bookkeeping and filing, others got stuck with harder, more demanding ones such as working at the steel foundry or at the wood mill.

I was lucky, I worked at Whisky’s Blacksmith. Little more than ten of the dozens and dozens of orphans that lived at the orphanage worked there.

It was easy enough I suppose. I got along with the owner, an elderly stallion named Whisky Shot, who often let me off work to come eat lunch with him and tidy up his office, instead of working on the floors.

I stepped outside onto the frozen street, the foul brown snow drifting over me.

The brown and grey skies above spewed the pollution they gathered from the ever-burning furnaces and engines right back down on us in the form of this...horrible horrible snow.

New Stalliongrad itself could have easily been called a marvel of progress even before the skies were opened and the world cured of its poisons.

Stalliongrad and its regions were nowhere near the wastelands around Canterlot, we were on the northern coastline, to get to here from Canterlot you’d have to travel through an enormous expanse of frozen mountains and snow blanketed valleys.

Up here, the concept of Canterlot, Fillydelphia and Manehatten had died a long time ago.

The memories that the south even existed had long since blown away with the ashes of this city.

There weren't many Stables this far north, only a single one provided protection for the city, they didn’t expect it to be targeted.

After a year or two of militias clashing and clans vying for control, the ruins were rocked by a single mare and her armies of War-era tech.

Her name was Cinnamon Swirl.

Today, Cinnamon Swirl is labeled an idiot, a foalish moron who threw our soldiers away during the Winter War. I still think she was a much better leader than Sky Spring could ever hope to be...

Not much was known about Cinnamon Swirl, other than that she was undefeated at chess, and that she grew up somewhere dark and sinister, evidently this somewhere was deeply communist.

With the protection she offered the ponies of the ruins, the city quickly came over to her side.

Her strategies were truly spectacular, she was a marvel at anything to do with fighting. They say it was fascinating how enthralled she was by war.

She saw an almost artistic beauty in outwitting her opposing commander, studying how they fought and quickly learning the best way to match their forces and destroy them.

The mood she was put in when she won a particularly difficult battle was euphoric, like she was high on some kind of drug.

The way she commanded, it’s easy to see how she crushed the other clans inside of a month.

The city and its ponies flourished, the resources of the region were quickly made use of and New Stalliongrad City was born, which a year later became federated and changed its name to The Loyalist State of Stalliongrad.

Cinnamon and her armies ruled the region without question, she became notorious for the way she dealt with raiders and bandits, turning our small corner of Equestria safe again for the average pony.

That was until a certain unicorn mare down south activated Gardens of Equestria, cleaned the lands and rolled back the clouds.

Cinnamon sent scouts south past the mountains to find out what had happened...

Of course, what they found awakened her deepest interest.

...what? I like to read history books...

"OJ, let's ditch this joint and go check out the mares at the bathhouse."

I froze up.

Orange Juice. Just keep walking like normal, maybe he won’t see you...

He was short but he made up for it with a muscle bound physique and an aggression to  match, he ran a gang with a few of the other bucks.

Even the prefects didn't mess with him.

He almost always had a knife of some kind. A lot of the colts at the orphanage carried them, except for me. I hate blood, violence...

I'm a pacifist, I'd sooner put a knife to myself than to another pony.

No matter who they were and how much I hated them...

OJ always roamed with his gang by his side for protection.

Everypony pretty much let them have free reign, they had a tendency to make you regret it if you didn't. OJ's first hoof and best friend Chuckles was only a few notches below criminally insane.

I heard bucks say he's cut open ponies and shown them their organs before they died.

Along with Chuckles there was Shakes...well that was her nickname, her actual name was Salt Water.

The reason she was named Shakes was because of her addictions, she was always high on something, Mintals, Dash, Tweak or FPS, but her favorite was Lightbringer.

Finally OJ himself. He was a real hooffull, supposedly he has killed and maimed, but I doubted that he had it in him. Most of the stuff you heard about him he probably made up as a way to instil dominance over the other orphans.

I felt OJ brush past me as he walked by before he stopped and turned around, grinning his chipped and dirty teeth at me.

"Well, if it isn't my friend Nimbus" he chuckled "Congratulations by the way."

I looked at him with a death stare "For what?"

He wanted me to ask. "Rumors going around that Ass-fault got approached by one of the bathhouses again. They’re really fond of that sister of yours" he grinned.

I felt my stomach drop. I looked away and continued walking. There was no way that was true...Fable was too young, barely even cutie mark age.

Asphalt wouldn't be that cruel...would she?

"You hear that, everypony, Nimmy's little sister is going to be adopted by one of the bathhouses!" he yelled "I've seen those lips of hers, I know one thing she’ll be a pro at.”

I stopped dead. Come on Nimbus, you're better than this, don't screw up your chances of a release paper by starting a fight, you’re not a fighter, remember?

"Oohhh, I've struck a chord with Nimmy, haven't I?" he laughed, his voice breaking. "Perhaps I should sneak back while you're at work, get a sample and see what I think of her before she's working every stallion this side of Capital Tower."

Oh no...

Just rough him up a little, no need for a fight, just tell him to shut it and show him you mean business.

“Did I stutter or something?!” he yelled, trying in vain to get a response out of me.

I ignored him, heading off to work, trotting at a worried pace as I trembled.

You’re weak, you should have just hit him, that would have shut him up, this is your sister he’s making these comments about, you really going to let him do that?

“I’m not...violent” I repeated, trying to breathe slowly and calm myself down as I stalked the road heading to work.

I shook my head. I could feel it, the throbbing headache, my troubled mind pounding against the inside of my head, demanding to be let out.

I wanted to scream, pound, destroy.

Kill.

“No!” I shouted to myself on the now empty snow-riddled street. “I’m not violent! That is not who I am!”

I paused, leaning against the wall of a nearby building, breathing slowly. I had to calm down, I couldn’t risk slipping into one of my episodes in public, I’d probably end up getting arrested.

I’m not too comfortable explaining...my issue to you yet, maybe later.

I don’t remember how long I just sat there breathing quietly to myself, trying my best to compose my troubled mind.

I rested there until I was sure to be in control again, and interestingly enough, just as I was about to get up and start walking again, a sound echoed from the alley across the street.

It wasn’t anypony in particular, just an average stallion, who came trotting out of the shadowed passage.

The stallion wore a short coat, a small mossy green beanie on his head and a series of bandoleers and pouches hung around on his sides.

An old, slightly rusted assault rifle swung on his back as he trotted closer, his eyes sizing me up, his nose crinkling.

“Excuse me, young stallion” he asked in equelquent sounding speech. “May I ask a small favor?”

I raised my brows in curiosity “That depends...”

He smirked “Nothing in particular, just...if anypony asks about me...tell them you didn’t see anything.”

I looked up and nodded. Another wanderer of the New Equestria in trouble with a gang for debts. Same stuff, different hat.

“Thank you, your help is appreciated.”

I waved him off. “Whatever, go now” I replied, beginning my walk away from him, sniffing my cold nose.

Just like that, he was gone, drifting into the nearby alleyway with nary a whisper, he had disappeared.

I would have continued my walk had it not been for a rough voice and booming hoofclops coming up behind me.

“HALT FOAL” a voice commanded.

I froze and turned around, nearly swallowing my own tongue when I saw the enormous figure of Cobalt, second-in-command of New Stalliongrad, standing behind me.

The dark grey stallion wore a set of black and gold trimmed armour that was the hallmark of highly decorated officers of the New Stalliongrad military.

All across his breast were dozens and dozens of medals and ribbons.

Some argue that he only received them because his mother was the country’s leader, but I have never heard of anyone saying that to his face.

Whether cheating or not, Cobalt was not a soldier, he was a warrior, a brutal killing machine who found his calling in the destruction of his adversaries from the various conflicts our humble armies fought throughout the twenty years of our country’s existence.

Conflicts ranging between minor raider cleansing expeditions to full-out wars with other factions around this area.

He’d been fighting in every major engagement there’s been, he even participated in the Winter War.

That was expected, really. His mother had been a Commodore in the Enclave, set to become Admiral of the whole fleet after the previous one's retirement.

In fact, rumour has it, the armour Cobalt wears for actual combat is built from pieces of armour that the leaders of his fallen advisories wore, including the helmet of a

raider warlord who ran this region before New Stalliongrad’s founding, as well as the shoulder plate of an infamous Steel Ranger Elder.

I froze and stood up straight, just as we were taught to do in the presence of a board member.

He was flanked by dozens of heavily armed soldiers who were searching each alley and door knocking homes.

The enormous muscular stallion was probably the only pony I’d met who was taller than me.

He oozed strength and intimidation. I could almost feel myself shrink as his towering figure looked down at me.

He had to take a knee to level his eyes with mine, smiling a set of perfect white teeth at me. His hoof stroke my chin in an almost fatherly fashion. “Sorry to barge in on you, dear colt, but I must ask, have you seen anyone suspicious recently, we’re in pursuit of a stallion...I can not tell you much more than that, but I assure you it’s a matter of national security.”

Stories surround nearly anypony who has any kind of voice in this city, it only depends if you are willing to believe them.

For example 2nd Commander Cobalt, all kinds of stories haunt his persona, stories that portray him as more of an animal than a civilised pony.

Stories of brutality to soldiers of the opposing side as well as to civilians who cross him, torture and agonised suffering to any who wrong him, as well as the rumors that he’s abused some of his own regiment’s more hard headed soldiers in an...’interesting’ fashion as a way to assert dominance, he also kills the families of the ones who fail him.

He apparently reveled in it, he loved the fear and intimidation that orbited him wherever he went, almost like a stench that could only be associated with the kind of acts he executed.

I trembled as I looked into his orange eyes, remembering that stallion I talked to earlier.

Oh goddess...that stallion was a rebel from the Stalliongrad Revolutionary Guard.

Why...why did this happen to me?

Stories like this pop up all the time, normal ponies stumble into an SRG partisan, then get questioned about it by the Guards or the Army.

If you tell on the SRG partisan, the SRG tend to respond violently for causing them to lose a good soldier.

If you don't tell on them, the New Stalliongrad Guard...they always find out somehow, they pick you up for being a 'terrorist' sympathizer and ship you off to Artechoka Prospect to be killed off.

I looked into his eyes and trembled on the verge of bursting into tears, I was so afraid.

But why should I care about the SRG? That buck and I, we don't share any common ground, he and I are not on the same side.

Why should I care about him? Survival of me and Fable is all I care about.

"...Yes!" I blurted "A stallion ran past me before he went into that alley way..." I closed my eyes "That's all I know, I swear!"

Cobalt chuckled and patted my shoulder "Good colt, you have provided the state with an invaluable help, continue on your way. We have to lock this area down before..."

Before he could finish, a bright flash ripped out and an explosion rocked the earth as a nearby brick building went up in flames.

Cobalt roared angrily "Goddess damn it all! Find that terrorist cretin and bring him to me so I can rip his head from his shoulders!" he yelled, shoving me so hard I flew back before collapsing onto the road.

The idle soldiers scuttled off in search of the stallion without question.

Cobalt was seething, the veins in his head being forced up against his skin, his enraged eyes looked down at me and he growled "You are lucky I'm too busy to punish you for taking so long to answer me, otherwise I'd stomp your face in, you dirty street rat.”

The seething Cobalt galloped off into a nearby alleyway, his growls still audible as his giant figure vanished.

I'd had enough mental stress for one day and decided after that little scene that I'd scurry off to work before something else happened.

All the while I just hoped that SRG trooper didn't suspect me of telling on him. I didn't want trouble...I really didn't, I just wanted Fable to be safe.

Just a peaceful little life for us both.

It'd be great had that been what I got.

********

Work was pretty typical, I operated the smelters with another buck.

We didn't talk much besides exchanging grunts, another one of those assholes who had let the rumors draw me before they'd even had a chance to meet me.

I was eventually called up to Whisky’s Office.

I really did appreciate all that Whisky Shot had done for me.

He treated me with respect and kindness, mainly because he and my mother had been in a fling before my dad, as Whisky Shot expressed it "Woo'd that mare so hard she fell pregnant before they'd even fucked."

Whisky was a good stallion, always cracking jokes, trading friendly banter and seemingly in a permanent good mood.

His leather clad office was pretty typical of a business manager, leather backed books, mahogany desk, the ever present smell of wafting cigar smoke and whisky.

He had however gotten his fetlocks dirty to achieve it.

"Chest’ i khavla, Sir" I said walking in.

Whisky spun around on his chair and snorted "Chest I' Khavla my ass" pounding his papers.

"I have to admit, if I hadn’t had the cheap labour I get from the orphanage, I'd be fucked monetary wise."

Whisky was an old but still muscular Earth Pony stallion.

He was a chain smoker and also drank a lot, which made his voice sound like an old pan being dragged along a gravel road. That's a bit of an exaggeration to be perfectly honest, though it was indeed pretty rough.

Whisky dropped the papers and shook his head "Well...what can I do..." he sighed looking over at me and opening one of his drawers "Can I interest you in a smoke, Nimbus? What are you, 18 now?"

I shook my head "Niet, 17 Sir."

"Nimbus, we talked about this, just call me Whisky, I won't bite you for it" he snorted "Come on, you want a cigarette or something" he said, waving a small tin box in front of me, dozens of cigarettes in it.

I shook my head "No, thank you. Sorry Whisky, I don't smoke."

He laughed and put them away "I doubt smoking will be what puts either of us away, it'll probably be pollution, knowing this place, or perhaps an SRG attack..."

I sat on the chair, looking enviously at all the books on his shelf.

Reading was always something I'd have loved to be able to do, but my literacy wasn't the best, I could read and write to a very basic degree but not much else. The orphanage school wasn’t too great...none of the schools in the Loyalist State were, all they really did was hammer into your head how great the board is, how malevolent Lady Sky Spring, and how stupid Cinnamon Swirl was.

A lot of what dominated Whisky's shelves were stories and memoirs written by famous wasteland wanderers, ever since The Lightbringer released her tale, others had done much the same as a way to share their experiences with the world.

I envied them all, I wished I was a brave wanderer, traveling the wastes and fighting evil doers.

As free as I wanted to be...

One in particular was always on Whisky’s desk, and it was none other than Littlepip’s own memoir.

To some she was a hero, a goddess and a paragon of everything good in this world.

Here, she was the enemy.

She was a symbol of the NCR’s authority and government, an ally to the republic, and enemy to our state.

Her book was banned here, in fact, come to think of it, most books about the wasteland wanderers are banned here. A lot of the literature came up here when NCR companies realized the trading opportunities contact with New Stalliongrad offered and then many were burned after the Winter War when Sky Spring took control and changed the laws.

“You could get locked away for a really long time for owning that” I said, gesturing to the book.

Whisky looked down at it and snorted “With these laws I’m surprised anypony can even cross the street without getting arrested.” He traced his old tired-looking eyes over to mine “That book is the least of my worries anyway.”

He butted his cigarette into the ashtray “So, I heard Fable started working at the sweatshop?”

I nodded “I wish she didn’t have to...I prefered it when she was secure at the orphanage while I was at work, these aren't safe streets.”

“Aren't you of age to sign out?” he asked. “Have you thought about becoming her legal guardian?”

I laid my hooves in my lap and looked down in thought “A lot, I was actually going to talk to Asphalt about getting the papers once I get back from work.”

Whisky smiled, patting my shoulder “Well, I can offer you a full pay job when you do, kid. You’re still my best employee, about the only one of you orphan brats I’d actually be willing to pay for, especially now...”

I looked at him curiously “What’s wrong?” I peered at the papers that laid scattered on his desk.

Whisky sighed and kicked his legs back in his chair “Money troubles, there's no market for the shit I make Nimbus, ever since that trade embargo with the NCR, I’ve been hard pressed to sell anything anymore, nopony in this country has the money to buy the machine parts or any of the various other things we manufacture here.”

“You know, you could start making weapon parts for the government” I suggested.

Whisky shook his head “I couldn’t bear dealing with weapons, it’s just...against my morals.”

The old stallion smiled “I remember when our borders to the NCR were still open, free trade between the mountains...” he sighed, lost in a haze of his nostalgia “I used to sell heaps of different products every week to the NCR.”

He returned from his mental journey and shrugged to me “I miss Cinnamon Swirl, she did a lot more for this region than that bitch Sky Spring could ever dream of.”

I had plenty to say about Sky Spring, but with the constant fear of punishment, coupled with my run-in with Cobalt I was too scared to voice my opinion.

“Now, get your book out, we’re doing math today.”

Whisky Shot...I really have boundless thanks for that stallion.

Ever since he let me start working at his blacksmith instead of the foundries, he’s taken me up to his office every day and done everything from teaching me rhetoric to basic math.

Without him, I’d probably be illiterate.

And like usual, he sat down with me and helped me sharpen my skills in math, not a subject I liked very much, but it’s still nice to have the option to learn it.

Eventually, it came time to head back to the orphanage.

I was sure, I was confident and I was excited about my chance to finally get Fable and myself out of there. And with a job from Whisky, I planned to save up and look for a way to move to the NCR.

It was always a dream of Fable’s to move to Junction R-7 and meet Fluttershy.

My little sister idolised that mare like you wouldn’t believe.

Fable wanted to be a nurse or a doctor, whichever one she could become, and the best way she saw of going about it was to follow Fluttershy’s work almost step by step, hoping that by doing this, she would fall into roughly the same circumstances as her.

I’d like nothing more than to see her fulfill her dream.

Just not here.

Besides, even if I let her follow that aspiration here, there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d get a place in any kind of school to learn that sort of thing. The good schools were all in the rich district on the other side of the city or in the nearby town of Midnighton.

And unless you were born into the rich districts, there was very little chance you got into the rich districts.

Heck, I haven’t even seen Capital Tower up close before, it has only ever been a distant landmark on the skyline for me.

Stalking back to the orphanage, I quietly passed the street where I’d come face to face with Cobalt.

I chanced a look at the building that had gone up in flames earlier that day.

The logo on the front was busted pretty hard, I could just barely make out the words.

GOOD MORNING LOYALISTS!

PRINTING

It was a newspaper printing facility.

Pretty typical target for the SRG. Good Morning Loyalists was the state sanctioned newspaper, supposedly it was dripping in propaganda, though I never saw anything particularly “propaganda-ish” about it.

But to be fair, I only ever read it once or twice a month, we never got access to any reading material besides the tattered workbooks.

I quietly walked through the gothic gates of the orphanage.

The orphanage itself was a very common breed in Stalliongrad, it was a repaired building from before the war.

This style was typical for the industrial and lower class districts. The lavish new and towering buildings were all in the rich and high economic areas.

After Gardens of Equestria was activated, the former enormous radioactive crater in the middle of the city and the blocks and blocks of flattened radioactive dust that surrounded it were no longer health risks, and the Loyalist State very quickly moved to start construction on the newly habitable land.

So the wealthy moved into the new and clean parts, while the lower classes were left with the repaired buildings of the old world, how fitting.

I walked up to my room, determined to look respectable and make a good impression on Asphalt for when I went to sign my release papers.

Asphalt was going to see that I was the responsible adult I needed to be in order to be released.

I combed my mane and tried my best to clean up my face by splashing water across it with my hooves and scrubbing with a cloth. Clothes couldn’t really be helped, but I tried to get rid of the soot and dirt on my coat.

Fable wasn’t back yet as the fillies always came after the colts, their workplaces being a longer walk away.

I put my best game face on as I walked the creaky wooden hallways, heading upstairs to the headmaster’s office.

My hoof carefully reached out and knocked on her wooden door as I waited quietly for a reply.

“Come in” her croaky voice answered.

I opened the door and walked into her office, there at the desk sat a mare on the cusp of entering her senior years. Her mane was specked with lines of graying hair and wrinkles dotted her aged face.

Her eyes looked up at me and she seemed to deflate annoyingly “What do you want, Nimbus?” she asked.

I stood up straighter “Chest’ i khavla, I’ve come to request a hearing with you, Head Mistress.”

She huffed “This had better be important. I have plenty of things I could be doing other than talking to you, so get to it.”

“Yes Ma'am” I nodded “I shall not be too long.”

Asphalt gestured for me to sit down on the chair across from her.

“Go on” she said, looking down at her papers.

I cleared my throat “Well, you see Ma’am, I think it’s finally time me and Fable got out of your mane, I’d like to request that I get our release papers.”

She chewed her lip, thinking hesitantly “Signing you out shouldn’t be too much of an issue, you’re a year older than the leave date so you should be able to depart without a hitch, there's only a simple problem, kiddo.”

I could feel the intensity leaking off her and sinking onto me “What?”

“Fable isn’t old enough to be signed out, so the only way I’m legally allowed to let her go is if she is adopted by a suitable guardian.”

I smirked and chuckled “Well then...fine, I’ll adopt her!”

She looked up at me blankly “I don’t know whether you’ve ever read your ID papers, Nimbus but you’re forgetting something” she leaned back “You can’t adopt, you’re not a suitable guardian.”

My mouth just laid agape “I...don’t understand, I’m above the legal age, I’m technically an adult, aren't I?”

“Yes, you are” she snorted “But just because you are an adult doesn’t mean you’re a suitable guardian for her.”

I was at a loss for words, how could this be?

She opened a cabinet and flicked a few things before pulling out a file and pushing it to me.

I looked down at it, it was my orphanage ID papers. A sad picture of me back when I was a colt topped the upper left corner.

“Read paragraph three” Asphalt noted.

My eyes drifted down to the paragraph she was referring to. And very quickly it began to make sense.

Patient ‘Nimbus’ exhibits several signs of anxious behaviour, repetitive activity and paranoid fits. Upon further examination, patient appears to be developing early stages of schizophrenia as well as a number of other mental complications triggered by some kind of event from his past. Unless treated, symptoms may escalate into a severe psychotic disorder as patient ages.

She...couldn’t be this cruel.

“Make sense now, kid?” she asked, taking the sheet back and putting it in the cabinet. “Besides, even if you were suitable, I couldn’t – not Fable.”

I looked up at her in horror “What do you mean!?”

Asphalt smirked  “She’s already been adopted, signed and stamped, this morning even” she smiled “In fact, her new guardian even made a small ‘donation’ for allowing Fable to stay in a safe home, much safer than she would be with a stallion like you looking after her.”

“W..wha...who!?”

She picked up a different sheet and squinted, as she read the small print “Lady Magenta.”

I froze in shock “Lady Magenta...?” I mumbled “Of...Lady Magenta’s Massage and Bath House?”

“Yes.”

I curled my hoof and grit my teeth “Surely...I must urge you to reconsider, Ma’am” I said, just barely able to conceal my rage.

“No, Lady Magenta paid for my assurance that Fable be kept here until she comes to collect her tomorrow, no exceptions.”

I looked up at her “You sold my sister into prostitution?” I hissed.

“No, that would be illegal” she snorted “I signed her over to a wealthy mare to be looked after in the hooves of a safe legal guardian. What she does with your little sister when she gets to her new home is no business of mine.”

I slammed my hoof onto her desk “You can’t do this!”

“Yes I can!”

“SHE’S MY SISTER!”

She stood up and scowled back at me “I don’t care what she is to you. She may be ‘your sister’ but she’s my orphan and like it or not, she’s under my jurisdiction.”

She walked over to the door and swung it open angrily “Now, I suggest you pack your shit and leave my orphanage before I call the guards!” she threatened.

I stormed to the door and looked into her eyes “She may be ‘your orphan’ to you” I growled “but she is MY sister, I promised my mother I’d protect her from ponies like you, and I swear I will, to the end.”

“Try and stop me” she smirked “You can’t threaten me, you little cretin.”

I stepped out and turned around “Mark my words, you cold hearted bitch.”

She snorted and slammed the door in my face.

So yeah, that issue. Now you know.

My mental condition.

It had always been a presence in my life, as a colt it had made me mentally unstable and caused anxiety attacks ever since my parents were arrested.

However, as I got older, they grew more and more severe, around when I got my...cutie mark I had my first episode and on occasion since then I’ve had more.

I’m still not entirely sure what happens during them. It’s not the usual hallucinations and panic, my episodes don’t frighten me because they a terrifying, my episodes scare me because I become something I am not during them.

I become enraged and unpredictable, I get the overwhelming urge to hurt someone...

They don’t tend to last long, just a minute or two, but these episodes have very nearly gotten me into serious trouble several times.

Normally, a course of medication would help dull them and keep me from slipping like I do, but I can’t afford medicine like that, nopony in this kind of district can.

I barged past the other ponies and stormed up to my door, flinging it open.

Across the room, Fable squealed and jumped in surprise as I barged in “Nimbus! What's wrong?”

I walked to our cabinet and pulled out her saddlepacks and my rucksack. I walked over and put it on her back and tightened the straps with my teeth.

“Your knife...do you have it?” I asked sternly, threading the rucksack over my withers.

Fable looked at me, still slightly startled “Yes...it’s in my pocket...” she replied timidly.

She took out the small, dull coloured knife and showed it to me before I took and slipped it beneath my coat.

I hate knives and Fable shares my feelings, but I had no choice but to buy her one. She needs it for protection when she walks to and from work, these are dangerous streets for a filly as young as her.

She needed one...just in case something happened.

I walked to our desk and started unloading the essentials and anything that would come in handy: the first aid kit, our ID cards and my pocket watch among various other things.

“...Nimbus...?” Fable asked, quietly trotting to my side, looking at me with a concerned expression.

I looked at her “Pack your stuff, Fable...I need to get you out of here and somewhere safe...”

“Why...?”

I stroked her young, innocent face.

“Because I promised, I’d die before I let any harm come to you” I smiled lightly “and that...monster, Asphalt is trying to sell you to some perverted pimp.”

She looked back at me, clearly shocked “W..what?”

I hugged her tightly and stroked her mane “Pack your things, I know Asphalt, she’s already called the guards to come get me, we haven’t got long.”

Fable looked confused and terrified but then, visibly pulling herself together, she nodded determinedly and ran over to her belongings, gathering them into a small pack.

I did much the same, except I simply piled my belongings, such as my books and pens, into my trenchcoat pockets.

We were quickly done and just as I was about to leave, I remembered something.

I cantered over to the window and took Fable’s music box, putting it into my pocket.

Fable walked to my side and stuck close to me as I swung our door open and trotted out, Fable directly behind.

Coming down from upstairs as I entered the stairwell was Asphalt, who looked angrily at me.

“I should have known you’d try something as stupid as this, the guards are on their way, so if you don’t want to rot in a cell at Artechoka like your bloody parents, I suggest you leave Fable and go” she growled.

I looked up at her “One day, you will pay for what you do to these foals, Asphalt, but not today. Today, I am getting my sister away from you, and you’re welcome to try stop me” I smirked, opening my coat and showing her my knife “But it’s not recommended.”

She stepped back and roared “You’re a fucking fool, Nimbus!” as we trotted down and onto the first floor “What do you think Magenta’s going to do when she learns that some stupid colt ran off with her filly? She takes pleasure hunting down morons like you!”

No, no hesitant thoughts Nimbus, you promised your mother you’d protect her.

The ponies standing between me and the door, who had looked on with wide eyed curiosity, stepped out of the way as quickly as they could.

I led my sister out into the snow blanketed courtyard, stopping for a moment to catch my breath and collect my thoughts.

I could tell that Fable was thinking about where we were going to go.

I hadn't thought that far yet, but in my defense, I hadn't had a quiet moment since I got back.

Truthfully, there was only one pony who would help me in a time like this.

********

The door swept open, flooding the dark alley with light. In the doorway stood the old stallion Whisky Shot.

“Nimbus? Damn foal, you know what time it is?” he said yawning.

Whisky peered at the shivering Fable by my side “Fable? Nimbus, what the hell is going on, isn’t it past your curfew?”

I looked back up the alley to see if we were being followed “Something happened...I will explain Whisky, but we need somewhere to hide.”

Though he was still confused, he nodded and stepped out of the way “Of course, come in.”

I shook the snow off my back and stepped inside, Fable doing the same and entering behind me.

Whisky checked the alley before closing the door and locking it, leading us into his small living room.

Whisky’s house was nothing fantastic, just a series of rooms attached to his blacksmith and office. He kept his house very neat and clean though. I can’t remember exactly, but I believe he was married with a son at some point in the past, I wasn’t really sure at that time.

“Sit, start talking. Why are you here, and why do you need to hide?”

I sat down on the couch across from Whisky, Fable climbing up and sitting on my lap silently, as she took a moment to recollect what had happened.

I stroked her mane and looked across to him “I don’t know, Whisky...everything I knew...it’s just been” I sighed “thrown all over the place.”

Whisky frowned, rubbing his face “Nimbus, that doesn’t help me any...”

“I know...okay just” I took a breath, to be honest, I needed to say this out loud for myself as well. I needed to hear it because I was still confused as to what had happened. “Asphalt sold Fable to a bath house, wouldn't let me take her, so I ran away from the orphanage.”

Whisky looked away, trying to soak it in “So it’s guards we’re dealing with?” he nodded to himself, pausing for a moment “Which bath house?”

“Lady Magenta’s Massage and Bath House.”

Whisky looked shocked “Shit Nimbus, Magenta? Are you sure?”

“Yes, why?”

He laughed uncomfortably “Magenta does more than sell poon, kid. Magenta is a drug lord, has ties to slavery rings, she even has paramilitary under her saddle” he rubbed his face again “The law says that a juvenile can’t be adopted to be a worker. Heck, pimping underage prostitutes alone is shit they send you to Artechoka for.”

“Asphalt said she was paid...” I offered.

Whisky nodded “No surprise, your ‘Asphalt’ wouldn’t take that kind of risk without good compensation, Magenta probably had to pay through her teeth and sign the paper with her blood to get Asphalt to even consider a deal like that...”

He glanced at Fable, who was looking between us, her eyes filled with fright and anxiety.

“She’s ‘invested’ a lot of money into Fable, Nimbus...” he moved his head up to face me “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Magenta is going to come looking for Fable and to that extent you, for crossing her.”

I nodded, stroking my young sister “That’s it, then.” I looked out his frosty window at the brown snow slowly drifting down from the sky. “Escape is the only option. We need to get out of Stalliongrad, get to the NCR or something...”

“Getting out of the city shouldn’t be too much of an issue, but I suggest you stay in hiding for at least a week” he laid back “Magenta will be expecting you to try to leave the city and run away, best to wait for everything to cool down a bit and let them search before you make your move.”

“Agreed” I replied.

Whisky stood up, gesturing to a dark hallway “Come, I have somewhere for you and your sister to hide during the day.”

I got up and helped my little sister to her hooves, before we followed Whisky down the hall.

We were lead into a small room with a single, heavily packed bookshelf and a desk, clearly some kind of private study, somewhere a pony could remain undisturbed, alone with their thoughts.

Whisky walked over to the bookshelf, sweeping the left side of it with a forehoof, leading to a small click and a low clunk before to my surprise the bookshelf swept out on a hinge to reveal a wooden door, which Whisky opened.

We walked into what can only be describe as a museum, filled with dozens and dozens of treasures.

The closer I looked, the more and more evident it became that this small room was in fact a storage for forbidden and outlawed contraband.

NCR flags, Steel and Applejack Ranger armour, hundreds of books and records, flags and posters, supporting everything from LittlePip to Cinnamon Swirl.

I just stared in awe “Whisky...I...”

He smirked “See? I told you I had more to worry about than some stupid book.”

“I’ll bring down some blankets for you, you can make up a bed for yourselves, help yourself to what's in here too, I’ve seen it all, might as well let somepony else enjoy what’s been taken from us” he said, walking out the door.

I turned around “Whisky...I can’t even begin to thank you enough for doing this.”

He chuckled “You’re a good kid, Nimbus. You just had a shitty run of luck” he smirked “I’d hate to see something happen to you two, and that’s why I do this” he turned back and walked before pausing again “Or perhaps it’s out of some vain hope that I’ll still win your mother over from your damn father” he chuckled walking away.

“Nim?” Fable asked quietly “What’s going to happen to us?”

I stood silently for a moment, flicking a nearby book open. It appeared to be about the Old Equestrian Monarch “I don’t know, Fable” I sighed “But I have to figure it out, and don’t you worry, I will think of something.”

“I’m scared...” she admitted looking up at me.

I stroked her mane “I am too, but I swear, I’ll get us out of this mess, Fable” I smiled thinly.

She smiled back just as weakly.

“I promise, things will get better.”

Chapter 2 "A day down the street"

I could see her...

She was in the back of the cart beside the other Zebras and Griffins and the few Ponies, her face was streaked with tears, her hooves were cuffed and she looked at me trembling in fear.

Dad wasn't there, I can't remember why.

I was holding a screaming Fable, she couldn't understand why she had to hug me and why she couldn’t go hug our mother.

We and a bunch of other colts and fillies were being watched at gunpoint by one of the guards.

Faceless.

They wore stark white balaclavas, no muzzle holes, just a pair of matte white combat goggles.

They were Stalliongrad’s finest.

Veterans of the Winter War, the ones who fought at Broken Hill, who watched two kilometers of mountain get flattened by artillery and air strikes in the most violent battle of the war.

I can vaguely remember that particular soldier mumbling and talking to himself, questioning what it was he was doing. He was stressed out and frightened, asking what had happened to him and what had happened to the country he fought to protect.

Her lips started moving, she was talking to me. When she spoke, it was like everything faded into the background except me and and my mother, her tearful words curiously carrying, even through the din around me.

"Protect her for me, Nimbus. Keep her safe, never let anything happen to her" she whispered.

I sniffed, tears rolling down my cheeks and nodded resolutely “...I promise...”

She smiled weakly, her warm smile contrasting with her reddened eyes and her tear-drenched face.

It was there that I felt it.

So much rage, so much anger, I couldn't see straight nor think properly.

It was the first time I'd ever had one of my episodes.

It felt painful, it felt euphoric, it felt wrong. It felt right.

It only lasted a few moments but when I came to my senses I found myself at the orphanage, ready to begin the next chapter of my shambling life, while for Fable her first one had just begun.

The worst part?

I can't even remember my mother’s name.

I always remember her, what she looked like, how she sounded, the way she walked.

How she kissed me, the feeling of her coat on my own.

Everything except her goddess damned name.

It's like a cruel joke being played on me.

The only thing I can clearly remember is that she was a Zebra, and chances are I'd probably have forgotten that detail too, had it not been for her...generous gift that has made my life so considerably better.

The world dulled as I watched the cart roll away from me, severing the bonds between my family with every creak of its slowly turning wheels.

Her lips moved again as she spoke, her voice clear as day despite the distance.

“Momma loves you both.”

I screamed.

I didn't care anymore. It was all so hard, so unfair, so senseless...

I just wanted my mother to sit me in her lap and tell me everything was going to be okay.

To tuck me and Fable into bed and tell us a story of our home in the Zebra lands, of the time when it was beautiful, vibrant, full of life and unpoisoned by the war.

I just wanted to hear her say she loved me...one more time....

I awoke, gasping heavily and clutching my chest, short of breath and drenched in my own sweat.

It had been that nightmare again.

The same goddess damned nightmare I always had.

Just the same 18 minutes of my life, repeating over and over again.

My own damn head teasing me, replaying the moments my life was snatched away from me again and again, laughing sadistically.

It was still early, the sun was just poking her weary head over the horizon.

I needed air, I had to calm myself. A sizable chunk of the city was out looking for us, now more than ever I had to be ready to protect Fable at any time.

I slowly pulled myself out of the blankets and sheets, swaying on my tired legs before awkwardly making my way between the dozens of memorabilia spread across this hidden room and sliding past the secret door, closing it behind me.

I shuffled quietly through Whiskey’s house till I came to the door that led into the alleyway behind his blacksmith.

Closing the door behind me I sighed, breathing in the spoiled air that the rest of New Stalliongrad choked on.

I could smell the faint musty and wet aroma of old cigarette smoke. As I looked to my right upon old Whiskey's stair railing sat an aged tin ashtray, nailed to the top so it wouldn't fall off.

In it were several butted cigarettes, cigars and piles of ash, but the rest of his house didn't even remotely smell of nicotine, just his office and out here.

Whiskey never smoked in his house.

I didn’t really understand why, it's not like it was illegal, it seemed as if he was being considerate of some non-existent entity.

Maybe I'd ask him one day, but it really wasn't my place to pry.

I heard a noise from ahead the alleyway before I saw a shadow fall down and slam into the concrete, shattering everywhere.

A roof shingle.

I trotted cautiously closer and looked up. I was met with the dark silhouette of a pony looking back at me, a long cape blowing lightly in the wind.

I stared in shock, my eyes dilating. I was frozen, as we both silently looked at one another.

The shadow didn’t seem worried as I stared it down. It just stood, its head turning smoothly as as it peered down at me.

Who was this apparition? Did he or she know who I was? Should I be worried?

The light shifted and I was given an opportunity to get a better look at the pony’s face.

I didn’t see much, all I was met with was pure white, a smooth matte texture.

As if it knew I could see, the pony darted off without a sound, leaving me alone in the alleyway.

Who in the name of Celestia, Luna and the stars above was that? Had somepony actually been on the roof or was that just my mind playing tricks on me?

I sighed, my breath condensing in the cold air, steam billowing away from my muzzle.

Standing silently for a moment, I decided to head back inside, seeking the comforting warmth of Whiskey’s home to fight this biting cold.

I heard a pony clear his throat behind me and stopped dead, slowly turning around and coming face to face with a familiar figure.

The SRG partisan that I had run into yesterday morning, except now he had a large bloodied bandage around the left side of his face.

I could almost feel my death approaching.

“You’re making waves, colt” he mumbled quietly “Though to a pony with my particular set of skills, finding you wasn’t very hard.”

How did he find me? Was he working with that shadow pony?

I retreated slowly “Listen...with what happened....I...you have to understand!” I stammered.

He met every backward step I made with his own step forward “I had a feeling you were the type that squeaked...” he chuckled “When I turn around to see if I’m being followed, I get a bullet through the eye” he said, pointing at his head “I almost didn’t make it out of there but...hey I guess I’m just a lucky pony” he smirked.

I kept looking around for any chance to escape, patting my coat for the knife, which I was shocked to find wasn’t on me.

“I’m not here to kill you kid...I am here to make an arrangement with you” he smiled “To an extent.”

I nodded timidly “...an...arrangement?”

“An arrangement” he confirmed “Involving something I need in my possession.”

I nodded heavily “Of course, of course.”

"There is a small New Stalliongrad Guard building a block from here, by a large navy blue warehouse" he whispered to me "In this building there is an archive and in that archive, within the category of 'Revolutionary Guards', there is a file, under G."

I felt my stomach drop, I think I knew what he wanted.

"If you bring me the file named 'Good Morning Loyalists’ I shall leave you alone and never talk to you again, if you don't however..." he smirked "Somepony may eventually...discover your location...maybe..." he mused.

Blackmail?

I was relieved that he wasn't going to kill me, but at least with death comes a certain finality.

I was being blackmailed with the threat of capture if I failed.

He could just kill me and get it over with, but he was teasing me, purposely presenting me with the possibility that I may succeed, knowing full well that I'll most certainly fail.

I might as well just take my chances with fighting him, because I was dead either way.

But...I could succeed.

So, like the sad optimistic foal that I was, I accepted.

"...okay, I'll do it."

He smiled sadistically "Good lad. Now, I am late for a very important appointment so I must take my leave, I'll be back in three days to collect my file."

He patted my shoulder "Good Luck" he said, winking sly...I think.

Before he trotted away silently he turned around a final time "I'll have my eye on you" he said, tapping beneath his one uncovered eye with a large mischievous grin. Then, like the first time I had met him, he melted into the shadows and vanished, taking with him the key to the hypothetical shackle now around my neck.

This time I galloped back to the door, closed it and locked it firmly with a huff.

The warmth of Whiskey's quaint little house washed over me and I sighed.

"Nothing is ever easy, is it?" I mumbled to myself, shuffling back to the room where Fable was hidden.

I had to get some sleep.

And I had to start preparing my plan of action.

* * * * * * *

I was awoken by Fable playfully bouncing past our makeshift bed.

She perched herself atop a chair and opened a book to start reading, a rather miserable apple between her teeth.

I groaned and forced myself out of my bed, yawning as I cantered over to her.

She looked up at me and smiled between the apple "-ood' -or'ing 'Im-us!" she chirped happily.

I smiled and tousled her mane, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"What are you reading, Fabe?" I asked, suppressing a new yawn.

She brought her hooves up and bit into the apple, chewing it cheerfully as she put the fruit down and left it on the desk.

"There's some neat stuff in here, Nimbus!" she said, tapping the book "That big box over there, it's filled with Ministry of Peace stuff, including a bunch of books on medicine and animals!" she chimed showing me the cover of her book.

H

iding from the Doctor

A complete guide to first aid

Volume 1

It had a particularly cute picture of a cartoony Fluttershy holding a doctor’s bag in her teeth.

I smiled faintly at my sibling, tousling her mane again.

"Whiskey made breakfast, he's waiting for you" she added.

I nodded and walked out of the ajar hidden door, through the halls of his house and into the kitchen.

At the old dining table sat Whiskey, a radio beside him and a plate of crumbs and egg scraps before him.

...and of course Miss Ditsy denied the allegations.

As expected, crazy crazy stuff is happening up north again today with another security scare at the NCR 'Checkpoint Remedy' after a bomb was found onboard a Loyalist State train that was bound for the Fillydelphia ruins.

Tensions rose as ambassadors began flinging mud before the mysterious package was actually discovered to contain nothing more than mining explosives for an excavation crew clearing out the Fillydelphia metros.

In much grimmer Fillydelphia related news, another mass grave has been found, making this the fourth one discovered this month alone.

Body count is still not confirmed, but it’s suspected to be between 600 and 900 dead.

Part of me really wishes this stuff would stop, it seems those NCR scouts just keep pulling bodies out of that city by the hundreds, makes you wonder what the hell was actually going on there, for us to still be finding these graves two decades after Red Eye's demise.

Well, I'm sorry for ending on a low note, my avid fans, but sometimes the truth just hurts like that.

I am Romulus, and you are listening to Radio Free Equestria, the last bastion of truth in a world of lies.

Here's the stunning Lady Velvet Remedy with a song from her new album: No Peace, Just more War.

The beautiful singer started her song, the voice rich and enchanting. It was full of sorrow, she sung of her dream for a brighter future after an era of darkness, and waking up to a world filled with the same violence and hate.

It chilled my spine as I listened to her song, part of me wished that I was even half as artistic as her.

In honest truth, I've had a fixation on Velvet Remedy ever since I was a young colt.

Growing up, she was always so pretty and attractive, her long flowing mane and her deep pure eyes, her body so smooth, luxurious, so tantalizingly curved and...sorry that was improper of me.

Of course she's a lot older now and it has become a lot harder to find pictures of her, what with her being a well-known supporter of the NCR, but I've seen a few photographs in newspapers and other places that I can still vividly recall in my head. I couldn't even imagine forgetting a mare like her.

I'd still like to meet her in the flesh, for more than one reason, not all of them entirely appropriate to say out loud.

Perhaps I should check those boxes back in the museum, see if there's anything of her in there...

"Glad to hear Radio Free Equestria is back, there'd been a blackout for almost four years up to this week, I was starting to get really tired of Vladistrot Radio" Whiskey snorted.

I smirked and decided now was probably the best time to bring up my need to go out for the “mission” I had been saddled with.

"Whiskey, I need to go for a walk to the district center, get a look of what's happening."

He held up a hoof to silence me "Nimbus, you're an adult now, what you do with your time is none of my business, just remember, it's dangerous out there for you. Part of being an adult is exercising responsibility and it's not my job to hold your hoof."

I nodded "I understand."

"Good" he replied "I needed to go hand in my requisition forms at the coal depot anyway, so if you're going out you can drop them in for me" he mumbled, looking at his radio as a burst of static interrupted the broadcast.

I nodded again as he finished signing the papers and pushed the folded up stack to me, which I promptly stowed in my pocket and got up to leave. I checked in with Fable and reluctantly took the knife with me, hoping desperately that I wouldn't have to use it.

******

Past the blanket of polluted clouds permanently covering the Working Class District, the upper classes actually enjoyed a pleasant day.

I could distantly observe the warm blue sky that shone down on the areas not covered by an eternal blanket of sickly black smog.

I sighed. It was just so unfair, I wanted to see the sky, I wanted to go outside and bask in the warm sun.

Why couldn't I have that?

Why did we all get shoehorned into these crumbling districts while the wealthy and the powerful got shimmering towers and marble paths?

It was just so unfair, so unbalanced.

Perhaps I should have been grateful for enjoying the good company of Whisky and his comfortable home, but still it was just a two bedroom unit tacked to a factory, he wasn’t that well off in comparison to the citizens in the Upper Class districts.

I grunted frustratedly as I trotted the grimy streets of Old Stalliongrad. Weary and sickly figures surrounded me, minding their own business and moving towards their own destinations.

It was all so bleak, so hopeless, even the wasteland would have been a step up because at least it left room for individuality.

Here you had only stock buildings to grace your eye, identical two hundred year old brick walls and commissioned blocks all had the same smattering of burnt coal and grimy dirt patterns painting their walls, all were blanketed in this sickly, impure, brown snow.

It all blended together into miles and miles of hopeless grey-brown, forever reminding you of your status as a lowly worker of the state.

There was no chance you could grow up and become a wealthy pony, you were born bloodied and screaming into the Working Class, you died starving and cold in the Working Class.

The day you were unfortunate enough to be born into this dreary and brown life, you were destined to work the machines and pour the steel.

That was your job, to keep the factories running and the furnaces burning.

Leave everything else to the lucky ones born into lavish luxury.

I walked by the notice board and decided to take a peek at it.

These notice boards were an important part of the public information network, especially in the Working Class districts where a lot of ponies couldn’t afford to buy a radio or the newspapers.

I didn’t much care for the stuff that wasn’t official, I suppose the nice thing about these was the law that anything that was bordered with black was not allowed to be posted over because it was from the government.

There was nothing too important besides a wanted poster of a mohawked unicorn stallion by the name of Candy, leader of some gang called Bayonet Throne.

Then I saw a gear.

My eyes were drawn to it almost right away.

YOU ARE A PONY, NOT A COG

STALLIONGRAD REVOLUTIONARY GUARD

YOU COULD HAVE SOMETHING MORE

Maybe there is something more...

I’d like something more...

Stop!

My hoof smacked my head trying to get rid of the intrusive thought, that was dangerous thinking. Very very dangerous thinking.

Don’t think about that kind of thing, it only brings you more trouble.

Maybe it does, but what if I could have more?

No! I don’t want to live in fear, I have to protect Fable, I can’t afford to put myself in danger like that.

Have I forgotten that I already live in constant fear and danger?

Yes but...

They can’t stop me from wanting more, no matter how hard they try.

“Move kid” a mare grunted, shoving me angrily and snatching the SRG poster down, scrunching it with her hooves.

She turned and glared at me “What, you need something?!”

Somehow she made me shrink, even though I was taller than her...

“N...no ma’am!”

The mare grunted “Then stop staring and clop off!”

“Yes Ma’am!” I squeaked, scampering off and continuing on my walk, stopping only to deliver Whisky’s letter.

Now all I had to do was break into the guard station. I sighed in my head.

I probably got no more than a few metres before I nearly smacked into a stage coach.

I blinked and pranced around it, peering at the curious vehicle which was much too magnificent for anyone in this district to own.

There was a rather snooty sounding snort from an Earth pony in an over the top red velvet suit who judgingly looked at me as I stepped back and assessed what I had just smacked my muzzle into.

He was hooked up to the stocks of the cart, perhaps a valet for whoever owned this coach.

“You’re not the smartest roach in the trashcan, are you~” he said with a coy smirk.

I blinked, the metaphor having gone completely over my head, though looking back now it was rather obvious “Whu...what?”

The valet rolled his eyes and shooed me lazily with his hoof “I do not have the time to make small talk with a ‘Worker’ such as yourself, colt. Now be on your way.”

I gave him a glare but did as he asked, stepping away and inspecting the cart. It was impressive, I wondered who in this district could own something so luxuriant.

I got my answer faster than I had expected, noticing a rather lavishly dressed Unicorn looking at a beat up old warehouse together with an Earth pony in a suit.

An old fumbling cardboard sign advertised the place as "4 sell".

There was a gruff stallion beside the two, tall, muscular and armed.

He eyed me angrily as I stood beside the cart, under the impending pain promised in his gaze I scurried away.

It makes me embarrassed sometimes to recall the tiny colt standing beside me, who bolted over and slapped the top-hat off the lavish unicorn and scampered off with a laugh.

Yeah, a colt had more courage than I did, and I towered over the little guy.

The unicorn growled "Do they not teach foals to respect their elders in this filthy district!?" he huffed, floating the hat back on his head. "Go grab that colt and drag him back by the ear!" he commanded to the muscular stallion.

His guard nodded and galloped off after the scampering colt, leaving his two principals alone for something much more sinister.

Around the bend, like clockwork, came a group of angry and almost uniformly dressed workers in jumpsuits.

They came up to the two ponies in a kind of rushed trot before one of them pulled out something from his jumpsuit, a baseball bat.

He pounced on the two, swinging the bat and smacking them both one after the other on the legs with sickening cracks of broken bone.

There was a violent scuffle that I don't wish to recall the more gruesome parts of, but they beat the two brutally, with no remorse, as another lit something in his hoof on fire and with a spraycan in his magic, wrote on the walls of the warehouse.

The scuffle was brought to an end by a trooper thundering over and firing a warning shot.

The group scurried away, but not before a flaming bottle tumbled through the window of the closed factory, which erupted into flames with an almost canine sounding bark.

The trooper rushed to the sides of the two horribly beaten ponies, yelling into the radio on his forehoof as he skid to a halt beside them.

I looked at the walls of the warehouse...

"THE STOCKADE SHALL RISE AGAIN"

And some crude drawing of what I assumed to be some sort of group tag.

Naturally I kept walking so as to avoid being blamed for the mess as a few more guards rushed over and tried to help as best they could.

I'm not sure they would be in that kind of a rush if it weren't an upper class citizen.

I need to learn to ignore that kind of thought...

I stopped at the gate to the city center and realized something: I had to leave in a week, and that required a lot of checkpoints and searches to move into different districts and finally out of the city.

If I was really as infamous as Whisky said, I wasn't going to get far.

I had to think of another way out, but later, right now I had to focus on getting that file to the mysterious stallion, or I wasn't going to last that long anyway.

Just over the rooftops I saw a murky blue corrugated metal sheeting.

The warehouse.

I walked the dirty streets all they way around the block and as I rounded the last corner I nearly yelped in surprise.

A squad of what appeared to be rookies jogged right past me in perfect rows of four by eight.

The pastel rainbow mob of uniformed ponies were silent, many sweating and panting as they jogged up the street.

Above them flew a Pegasus stallion decorated with a black and gold trimmed uniform and a small flat cap.

He flapped his muscular wings effortlessly as he glided beside them, barking profanity and abuse in a gruff voice, many involving the squad members’ close families.

They disappeared from my vision, their hooves clopping in unison, as they cantered around the corner.

I let out a relieved sigh, then preemptively tensed up, preparing for another shock as I peered around the corner.

As sure as sunrise, there it was: small barracks that occupied a modest block of land.

I tried to get a good look at them, but it was no use. The walls were too tall, I needed to get up higher to observe the inside.

I looked about, trying to find something suitable.

I struck gold, to my right up the alleyway was a caged roof access ladder that climbed the side of the rusted blue warehouse.

I looked about cautiously and quietly slinked into the alley.

Inspecting the ladder, I found it –as par for the course– locked with a small rusty padlock.

I tried to yank on the locked crossbars, but they simply wouldn't budge.

I stood back and thought for a moment.

Then the answer came to me, I had completely forgotten about it.

I couldn't though...If I did it without a permit, I could get four to five months in lockup if caught...

But then again, I was going to get life or even the death sentence if I didn't obtain this file for the one-eyed stallion.

I sighed and checked left and right before timidly undoing the straps and letting my coat slide off my shoulders to reveal large pads of folded feathers upon my back.

It was so rare that I got to use these things, flying was strictly regulated here.

I had no choice though...

I forced myself to relax and let blood rush into my wings, and in a slow, deliberate motion they unfolded, reaching their full size and length.

My sister said they looked unnaturally large, that something had gone my way when I was just a bunch of smashing chemicals and one had decided to give me another metre and a half above the average wingspan.

I was proud they were so large but...I was not allowed to use them outside the designed flight halls without a sky permit.

I breathed in and let the chilling wind sweep beneath my feathers, caressing my sweaty and heated wings.

I smiled, it was an almost euphoric sensation.

A Pegasus craves this feeling, like an addiction, the great pleasure of the wind sweeping over your whole body.

A carnal instinct, feeling it once more I couldn't believe that I had managed to go without it for so long.

There was an adrenaline rush, I felt unstoppable.

I had to restrain myself to just a few flaps to reach above the crossbars. I was so close to a military base, if I was seen flying I would be doomed.

Come on Nimbus, look at you! What kind of Pegasus are you? You're no better than a bird in a cage!

I...no...I couldn't risk it, there was too much at stake.

They've taken everything from you! Why do you bow before them, kneel at their hooves and submit!?

I grit my teeth and ignored the intrusive thoughts, flapping my wings and rising slowly above the locked section of the ladder, then grasping it and hanging on.

A Pegasus flying is as natural as a Unicorn using their magic, what kind of Pegasus are you?!

I ignored the rebellious roaring in my head and climbed silently, rising towards the roof of the warehouse.

Spread your wings and fly, I know you want to do it, you know you want to do it, fly!

I finally reached the top and sighed, looking around at the snow-dusted metal roof.

You are weak, just like the rest of them...

I awkwardly paced along the slanted corrugated sheets, trying my best not to slip, cringing each time I put my hoof down and producing a boom from the bending and vibrating sheets.

I finally reached the edge facing the base and kneeled down, peering over the walls.

It was perfect, a clear view of the inside of the small base.

There were three buildings. A long thin one which featured a series of equally spaced windows, I could only guess it was a longhouse to quarter the soldiers.

The next was a wide but stubby building with very few windows and doors made of steel, perhaps precautions for an armory or some kind of jail.

The final building looked to be my best bet, a generally normal looking brown brick structure.

It sported the symbol of the loyalist state, a red shield with a golden gear flanked by two golden swords.

Ponies in uniform trotted about, tending to business, entering buildings and chatting with one another.

I scratched my chin in thought, I really should have brought paper to make a sketch and draw some kind of map.

Suddenly I noticed a mass of ponies move and a group of armoured soldiers came around the corner. They were all gruff, strong masculine stallions who were systematically searching the streets.

What were they looking for? I asked quietly in my head.

Then there appeared a flash of purple and violet, the vibrant colours completely out of place in the dreary streets.

A cart, a rather magnificent one at that.

It was a rich purple, fully covered by an artistic and expertly crafted wood design.

The stallions pulling it stopped the cart right outside the base, an armoured soldier quickly rushing forward and opening the door in a rather ceremonious fashion while bowing his head.

Out stepped a mare, an incredibly attractive mare, her coat a light pink, I couldn’t think of the exact name, but I had heard it spoken of before.

The mare sported a long, healthy and luxurious lavender mane that swept as she looked about, her face obscured by an extravagant blue brimmed hat.

She wore a matching blue dress that flowed around her body and draped her features exquisitely.

Her face was adorned with a warm smile as she stepped out and nodded to the stallion who had opened the door for her.

That colour was so familiar! What was its name? It was on the tip of my tongue!

The guard at the gate stepped aside and saluted to the mare as he allowed her to enter the base, her soldiers dwarfing the poor stallion as they stomped past.

They finally stopped in the centre of the base, waiting for something.

Almost immediately a decorated mare stepped out of the admin building and strode to the guest, smiling warmly while they hugged each other, obviously good friends.

They chatted animatedly, both clearly enjoying each other’s company until finally a third pony walked out.

He was tall, very tall, taller than me by a head.

Every single soldier in the base came to attention and stuck their right fronthoof to their chest.

The elegant mare smiled as the tall stallion approached.

He wore a jet black uniform that was trimmed with gold and a long dark ceremonial cape was draped over his shoulder, the black material marked with a golden gear that flapped in the wind as he walked.

He had a perfectly formed shape, almost picture perfect, a fit and strong looking, chiseled body and a bearing that oozed authority.

He was a slate grey stallion with a short trimmed and styled black mane and a well-kept beard.

First Commander Coal.

I'd seen him before on pictures and propaganda posters, more than Cobalt in fact because of Cobalt’s less than legal ways of fighting in the past.

He was the heir to all of Stalliongrad, and boy did he look the part.

He was rugged, tall and strong, he did not stand, he stood.

He was the picture perfect example of Authority, the kind of pony you shrunk under if he talked to you.

But he was the First Commander, he was meant to be on the top floor of Capital Tower, looking down on all of us with the rest of his family.

Why was he in some random garrison in the Working Class District?

He smiled sincerely to the eloquent mare, taking her hoof and kissing it.

The mare blushed and looked away, a flattered smile on her face.

I rolled my eyes at the sentiment but kept watching.

Coal and the hatted mare chatted quietly, making these strange facial expressions at each other like foals, visually flirting with one another while their mouths kept the conversation serious.

Finally they laughed and there was an exchange of items, the mare presented pieces of paper, one long and thin, one normal A4 sized.

They nodded to each other and Coal once again kissed the mare’s hoof, whispering something into her ear, making the eloquent lady blush and peck Coal's cheek before she bowed her head and trotted away, her guards following behind.

Coal smiled as she grew distant, waiting for her to leave the compound before stopping a passing pony and handing him the A4 paper, then striding back inside.

My eyes seemed to be glued to the small pony who had just received the paper. He trotted over to a board and, moving some of the pins with his teeth, he securely affixed the paper.

As he walked away I saw what it was he had posted up.

It was me.

It was a wanted poster, my face and a series of words I couldn’t read from up here.

Then the name of the colour finally came to me. Magenta.

That mare was Lady Magenta, and she was in cahoots with Commander Coal.

I really had to get out of this city.

* * * * * * * * * *

After the commotion in the street had died down, I jumped and flapped my wings to break my fall. Then I folded them up and put my coat back on.

I flipped up the collar to obscure my face and began my walk back to the blacksmith.

I was worth a bounty, Magenta had put money on my head.

It was such a difficult thing to accept, walking the streets was now quite literally a danger to my life, moreso then it used to be.

This strange new feeling washed over my body, genuine fear, paranoia and distrust.

These ponies that trot beside me were not to be trusted, any of them could recognise and jump me.

The guards especially, they would now more than ever be on the look out for me, even less reason to trust them.

But even then, they weren’t my highest concern either.

I had the heir to the state on my tail to impress his mare-friend, he commanded his own regiment, him alone meant nearly 200 of the city’s guards were after me.

It was hard to comprehend the nature of my own endangerment, in fact I was so caught up in it that I nearly smacked head on into a tank parked on the side of the street.

A crew member in a loosely fitting leather helmet leered at me as I side-stepped away, moving quickly.

Don’t give them enough time to focus on you Nimbus, just walk.

I hid my face from a large group of ponies that was gathered around a corner, chatting and conversing before a bulletin board.

My stomach churned as I approached, too curious for my own good, I had to see my face on that wanted poster, I needed to see it for myself.

Luckily it wasn’t there, the crowd had gathered for a crisp fresh paper that had just been hung up.

GOOD MORNING LOYALISTS!

2nd Commander Cobalt has requested these posters be assigned to bulletin boards across the city.

After hunting down a Red Eye Remnants stronghold responsible for a recent attack on the frontier town of Outward where they kidnapped several townsfolk, action held in the High Boardroom today have dictated a military retaliation for the safety and the good of the state.

The 13th Loyal Mechanized Rifles helmed by Colonel Iron Curtain are being deployed with support from the Heavy Ironclad SLS Valiant to liberate the camp and eliminate the threat of slavery from the land of the free.

Glory to the 13th LMR on their just mission to free these ponies and crush the scum of slavery and Red Eye’s left over filth.

Pravosudiye dlya rabov!

Chestʹ i khvala!

Another Red Eye camp.

There was a period, just after the end of the Enclave War, when some raider, in an attempt to slander the newly forming NCR, started fabricating lies.

The rumor got around that the NCR were taking the former slaves from Fillydelphia and forcing them back into low paying work.

Of course it was clearly a lie, but you must look at it from the perspective of a former slave of the worst despot in Equine history who had just attained his freedom.

You would protect your freedom with tooth and claw, no more slavery, you were finally free!

Because of this, many former slaves fell for the rumor and migrated north into the Loyalist State in an movement known as The Grand Migration.

They arrived and settled, beginning their lives anew in the nation of the Working Class, finally a home for the exploited, a nation for the downtrodden.

Because of this, a huge majority of the population in the Loyalist State are former slaves or a slave’s child.

Stallions and mares cheered and smiled, patting each other’s backs and smiling, the occasional yell of “Pravosudiye dlya rabov!” or “Justice for the slaves” echoed around, ponies calling for good hunting and blessings from gods as they slowly filed away back to their lives.

Because of this history of being exploited by the stronger, a society of the meek now had the vote in a nation with an army.

The downtrodden finally had the strength to fight those who had enslaved them.

Needless to say, they went completely over the top.

Punishment for caught raiders and slavers was incredibly brutal, if the government considered them worthy they were often turned into public spectacles, they weren’t for the tender or the weak stomached, when I say brutal, I mean in the most monstrous way imaginable.

I just shook my head, some poor pony is going to be up there in public getting that kind of treatment in a few days’ time, and he or she will be a great spectacle for hundreds of sick, twisted and anger-filled ponies.

Street by bland street I trotted back, I felt the familiar chill I always experienced taking this road back to the blacksmith.

The Dead District.

I peered to the right and got a look at the tall concrete wall.

Completely unguarded.

That was the kind of fear the Dead District evoked, dozens of adventurous ponies had trot into that district, merrily unaware of the stories that orbited it.

The ponies of this city were so afraid of the legends of that district, the soldiers refused to guard the perimeter wall.

Those stories were fairly simple, whoever enters the District has a hard time getting out again.

That is, if they actually do get out.

The district used to be the city’s port, back before the war, and it was haunted, no ifs ands or buts, it was like nature, nobody disagreed with this fact bar a few who were called idiots by everypony else.

Ghost sightings, strange noises and lights, screaming, yelling and crying were always heard, those who went searching for the noises never came back.

Nopony is stupid enough to go there anymore, not with the death toll that high.

So they built a wall to protect the rest of the city from whatever was hiding in there, whether it was real or not.

I avoided it like the plague, despite how much I didn’t believe in that crap. It was probably just inhabited by a bunch of mutants and ghouls, that place just needed a good cleaning out and all would be well.

Still, everypony gets the chill they say...

I pretended it wasn’t there and kept going like everypony else around me.

Street by bland street blended together as I walked, my head hung low.

“Hey Handsome~”

Oh great...I hadn’t been paying attention to the street I was taking, the working mares loved this corner, it was really busy at midday.

I looked up, perched on the entrance to an alleyway was a mare, the source of the voice, her long flowing mane lipstick red of colour, her coat a dark crimson.

It was hard to keep myself from ogling her when she was wearing such a tight frilly corset, one that she had specifically chosen to hug her shapely body.

“Somepony looks down on his luck” she mused, slinking closer to my side.

She was a tall mare, nearly up to my neck, hence why she started rubbing at it.

Why did she have to be one of the touchy ones? Why?!

“If you want, I can help bring the light back into your day” she purred.

My cheeks blushed as red as a road flare, probably as noticeable as well.

“I uh...” I stammered, looking away uncomfortably “I...really gotta go uhm...get back home” I said, my eyes darting about.

She giggled “Is Somepony afraid of a mare’s touch?” she said, pressing a hoof to my chest and tracing it downwards.

Why?

I flinched as her hoof reached my stomach, I couldn’t help looking embarrassed.

She really was finding this all too amusing.

“Please...I’m...I need to get back home...I’m in...a bit of a rush” I tried, hoping that would end it.

She grinned “Hmmm” then she nickered “Fine, but that was too much fun” she kissed my neck as she backed off slightly, causing me to produce a very non stallion-like squeak.

She giggled again “You know where you can find me if you want some fun Mister, and next time I may not let you canter off so easily” she winked as I quickly slinked away and trotted back to the blacksmith, blushing like crazy.

* * * * * * * *

My tired legs finally made their last clops of the day back to the door of the blacksmith, knocking twice and waiting for somepony to answer.

Whisky eventually answered and let me in, locking the door after my entrance.

“Welcome back” he smiled, returning to the table I saw him sitting at this morning, back to the pile of papers in front of him. I didn’t really understand why he wasn’t doing this up in his office, maybe it was to keep Fable comfortably reassured that he was within range if something happened.

Or maybe he just felt like working at his dining table today, who knew.

I slowly trotted back to the hidden room behind the bookcase, seeing my young sister sitting on the blankets of the bed, reading the same book she was engrossed in when I left her.

She peered up at me and smiled warmly with that same bright hopeful look she always had.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here all day reading, Fable” I returned her smile as I walked over to her.

She nodded, a guilty look on her face as she lifted her forehooves up to signal she wanted a hug.

I grinned, kneeling down and scooping my small sister up, hugging her tightly, then I sat down against the wall and got comfortable.

“Where’d you go this morning, Nimbus?” she asked, her big curious eyes blinking up at me.

It was so very hard to lie to her when she was looking at me that way, but I couldn’t have her panicking or getting afraid, not even a little.

“Just a walk, Fabe – needed to clear my head.”

She nodded, I could see by her gaze that her curiosity was not satisfied “...Nim?” she asked timidly.

I gave her a concerned look, kissing her cheek “What’s up Fable?”

“...did you have the nightmare about Momma again?” she asked.

I felt the pit in my stomach open up and churn, I didn’t like her thinking about my condition, I couldn’t appear weak to her, I had to be strong. She needed to think I would always be there for her.

But I couldn’t lie to her about the nightmare, she also needed to know it was okay to grieve.

“Yeah, I did, Fable.”

She looked at me sadly, hugging my chest like she was my own foal.

I frowned, rubbing her back, feeling her soft wings beneath the blazer and dress.

She clung to me, crying quietly.

I oftentimes forgot what this had to be like for her, I was all she had. In the orphanage she had been even worse off than me because of how timid and shy she tended to be, I was the only friend she had ever known.

I was also her only parental figure, and for a long time while growing up I was barely even mature enough to comprehend my own parents’ death.

She had not been too young to remember that day either, having just turned old enough to begin comprehending her own existence and the meaning of those around her.

Just old enough to remember her parents’ deaths.

For six years she relied on me to do everything from help her get dressed to teaching her to speak and read.

She’s had no maternal figure and truth be told, given my age through most of if, neither a paternal one.

All she had left was her brother, just like all I had left was my sister.

She could remember even less about our parents than I did, given how many times dad was away, just like how I had forgotten our mother’s name, I had to keep reminding myself to tell her about our father Greywing, the smart, handsome Enclave scientist.

She never really seemed to think about it though, I didn’t blame her, all she remembered was that at one point the mare and stallion that birthed her had disappeared when she was young and that her brother had raised her day by day whilst coming to terms with his own grief.

I think she worried about me more than I about her.

Which in turn caused me to worry.

"Are you feeling troubled about me, Fabe?" I asked, lightly stroking her mane. She smiled and shook her head "No, it’s just...I'm curious."

"Don't you fret about me Fable" I said regardless of her answer.

Fable nodded "Okay."

I hugged her around the stomach and kissed her cheek "I love you Fable, you know that, don’t you?”

She giggled sweetly "I know."

I nickered and sighed, resting my head against the wall and closing my eyes.

There was a chuckle, I opened my eyes and looked over to the door, Whisky stood there smiling.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

He pointed at the windows “Need some help outside Nimbus, I think a Spike is coming in an an hour or so, we need to close the shutters on the factory or we’ll lose the windows.

Fable gasped and clung on “A...S...Spike...?” she asked quietly “I...don’t like Spikes.”

Whisky nodded “Mmmhmm, hence why we need to lock up, Nimbus.”

I rose, letting Fable get off and kissing her forehead “Don’t worry Fabe, I’ll be back shortly.”

This time we took the front door instead of the one leading to the back alley.

You could hear the distant howling and rumbling over the mountains, he was right, there was definitely a Spike coming.

“Hey, I just realised, I don’t have to climb up there anymore. Nimbus, can you do me a favor and fly up there, bring those shutters down while I get the ones down here?”

I peered nervously up and down the street, it seemed empty enough, if I moved quickly I shouldn’t have to worry about being seen.

“Da” I said anxiously, rolling back my coat and letting my wings unfold.

Whisky peered across, eyeing my wingspan in awe, I couldn’t help but let a smug grin climb up my face.

I flapped my wings and rose up to the first shutter, grasping the pole and yanking it away, letting the heavy metal sheets clang and clank their way down the length of the window. There was a reverberating drum of thunder and a red flash of lightening, this one was moving faster than normal, enough motivation for me to hurry up.

I hadn’t been through many Spikes, only around four, that went more so for Fable who’d only seen two.

Spikes were a rare occurrence, something we mere ponies could not explain.

All we knew was that they were strange weather anomalies that somehow managed to make it through the cleansing of the old world and carry over into this new one.

They originated in the western mountain range, somewhere up there in those peaks was the source of these curious storms.

Nopony knew exactly what they were, what we did know was that the winds were heavy and unbearably cold, the hail was razor sharp and the lightning consisted of bursts of pure radiation, hence why it was a very bad idea to be caught outside during one of these storms.

I leant to the left and let gravity do the work for me, pulling me slowly to the next window.

There was an intense digital tone that echoed around the city before the melancholic cry of the city’s sirens reeled up, growing in volume. Their purpose to warn everypony to immediately seek shelter.

My perspective drifted, providing me with a view of the skyline, the four tall buildings of the city heights whined and groaned, their lit windows blinking out level by level as their auto shutters clanged shut.

Capital Tower, being much taller than the other buildings in the city, continued its loud groaning and clanging as the windows on the large needle-like building shut and locked to protect those hiding within it.

I quickly pulled the last two shutters closed and locked them both tightly.

Whisky was at the door, leaning as he gestured me in. “Buckle down Nimbus, I’ve had a few Spikes in my time, enough to know this is going to be a doozy for sure.”

I smirked, nodding “How do you know the Spikes are coming before the ponies at the early warning service do?”

“It’s in my bones Nim, as long as there’s been Spikes, the Whisky family have felt em’ coming.”

We stepped in, Whisky closing and locking the doors securely. “Cheers” he thanked me “You can go back and get all huggy with your sister again if you want, I’m going to head upstairs, get comfortable in my room” he said, patting my shoulder and walking away.

There was a roaring howl and the rumble of thunder, the noises a Spike made were by far the most terrifying part of the storm.

I returned to Fable, flopping myself down beside the concerned looking filly.

“Don’t be scared Fable, we’re safe in here, Spikes can’t get at you inside.”

She nodded “I know...but they’re so loud and noisy...I don’t like them” she said, yelping loudly and clinging to me at another deafening howl of the storm.

I sighed and rubbed her back “Hey, if you promise to calm down, I’ll tell you a story.”

Fable perked up “You will?!”

I rolled my eyes and nickered “Of course I will!”

She grinned, giving me a squeeze and bouncing onto my lap. I kissed her nose and grinned. “Now, which story do you want me to tell?”

Fable tapped her chin “The one about the Stable Dweller” she cheered.

I rolled my eyes but kept my smile.

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there was a small mare, named LittlePip.”

Working Class. Returning Soon

RETURNING NOVEMBER

Another Announcement

Now before I start, I just want to say, Working Class is not cancelled.

Sadly I've stopped writing Working Class.

Nonono! Not permanently its just recently in general I've fallen out of the loop, I need a break from writing it because I can't help but feel what I am writing is drivel because its all I know.

So to remedy this I will be writing another short FoE Fic to cleanse my pallet in order to return to Working Class later with a new outlook

Watch this space for a new short fic roughly 10-12 chapters in size.

And remember, i'm not going anywhere, just taking a short break from Working Class to work on a short story.

Stay out of the Rain folks

~Darcy