Fo:E Xenophobia

Chapter Four: A Parent's Love
"There there little one. I am sure they are coming back for you very soon."

Son...

The voice of my father spoke to me through my earbloom.

...there is nothing your mother and I could say or could do that could truly express the gravity of the circumstances you have been caught up in. Likewise nothing could convey the sense of regret we feel for the path you have now been put on. We have done our best to keep you shielded from the grim matters we have faced since Stable Forty-Seven's door opened many years ago but alas we have failed. The dark shadows that have haunted Xenolith are falling upon us. You need to know that by the time you hear this message your mother and I may already be dead. Either way you are now the only one left who can save your tribe and your people.

You must carry on our work my son. To do this you must seek the one called Hornet. I have tagged his last known location on your PipBuck. Find Hornet and you must give him a special jewel that we left you in your saddlebag.

You must not attempt to return to Xenolith. Even if you did find a way back it would endanger everything we have worked for. Returning will put the future of your tribe and your family in jeopardy. There will come a time for you to rejoin your people but first you must find Hornet.

I wish we could give you more details my son but our time grows short. Just know that if we are still alive we will do whatever is necessary to ensure the safety of Xanthe and your foals. We have provided you with what supplies we could. Be wise and put them to good use.

The world beyond Whitetail is wrought with peril my son. Your mother and I have faith in that out here in this forsaken world you will find the compass that leads to your true potential. We have always believed you are destined for great things Zythus. It seems we could not shelter you away from your true path in life. Be vigilant my son. We know you will succeed for us, for your family, and for all for our people.

We love you son.

The message ended in static. My breath was short and my heart slowed to a standstill. My brain struggled to digest the recording my father had left with me. Who was Hornet? It certainly did not sound like any zebra I knew of or even a zebra at all. What made him so important? Why did my parents entrust me with finding him? Each question that rattled through my mind seemed to lead to a new one before I had a chance to consider an answer.

Wait a minute. What? Did he say 'World beyond Whitetail?' How could there be a world beyond Whitetail? Everything in Equestria was wiped out in the war. I considered my surroundings. I was not in the Stable. I was not in Xenolith. There was only one logical answer. Were there seriously other habitable places besides our grove? Had other Stables opened? Was it possible...

I shuddered as the last question slipped through my fragile mind.

...there were ponies still alive?

That was not possible. I darted to the single window in the little shack and peered out. Pale light shone down through the clouds overhead just as they had in Xenolith. Unfortunately I was not in Xenolith. I was not anywhere. I felt hopelessly lost in the vast emptiness that surrounded me.

For months I had done anything in my power to escape from my life in the tribe and now that I had actually gotten away from it I wanted it back more than anything. My stomach turned and my muscles cramped. Even the mud caked grass mats of the correctional ward would have felt comforting now.

I trotted in circles around the tiny makeshift shelter. I was drowning myself in a sea of my own fears and doubts. I was pathetic, stupid, and weak. I was not fit for Whitetail, I was not fit to support Xanthe or my foals and I was unable to manage my dull and incredibly ordinary life. What made my parents think I could be trusted to do whatever it was I was supposed accomplish for them? Save our tribe? What was endangering us? Did this have to do with Xohar and his betrayal?

My endless line of questioning was cut short by a glare casting its light in the distance catching my eye from beyond the window. Something was moving around out there. Not just something but someone. I saw the silhouette of a fellow zebra in the windswept dust outside. I was scared and alone and needed answers. "Whoever is out there" I thought, "must know what is going on". I snatched up my saddlebag and bolted out of the shed's rusty door.

"Please," I prayed to myself. "Please be someone who can help me." I galloped frantically towards the figure in the distance.

I was gasping from my sprint as I approached the enigmatic figure. I choked and coughed on the dry dust I had breathed in during my run. I closed in on the individual coming into view and gawked at what I saw. It had a body, a tail, four legs, and a head. By any account the figure could have easily been mistaken for one of my tribesmares from my previous vantage point. However the reality was far worse than my reckless hopes had wished. Its coat lacked stripes, or for that matter, hair or skin at all. Its body was not flesh but a chassis of metal. Its steel hooves lumbered in an ungainly gait over the arid terrain.

"Excuse me... Hello?" I sputtered naively.

The figure halted and clumsily turned towards me. The worn joints of its legs creaked and squealed from untold years of corrosion. My bewilderment of the strange equine quickly vanished and turned into terror when its head came into view. Its face was only a glass dome mounted to what may have been its chin. There, floating inside the clear shell of the metal creature's head, housed what only could have been a once living brain. I took a half a step back shocked and afraid. What manner of soulless beast could have created such an atrocity? I received an answer all too quickly when the automation spoke.

"Target acquired: Prepare to die zebra filth," its frigid robotic voice rang out.

Ponies... This antique was one of their death machines from the war. I was astonished that such a relic had survived all these years and still be functioning. I only had a moment to marvel at the cruel ingenuity behind this abomination when a stream of red light ripped from the mechanical beast's weapon.

I tried to duck but my pitiful reflexes were far too slow to dodge. The heat of the beam tore through the tip of my left ear and reduced it to ash. The burning sensation sent a shockwave of pain through me. My hoof instinctively cradled the charred remains of my ear. There was no time to scream or to mourn my loss. I scurried away in a mad dash as the metal pony's weapon fired again catching the hair of my long tail. I dove behind a nearby boulder hoping it would provide enough of a shield against the pony's alien weapon.

I heard the metal monstrosity jangling its way towards me. I stroked my ear with my forehoof again and but nearly half of it was gone. The beam had cauterized the wound and the tender site seared with pain. Tears began to well up in my eyes not for the loss of my ear but for the loss of everything I had ever known. My father's message said I was Xenolith’s only hope and I was about to fail them before I even started.

"Get a hold of yourself Zythus!" a voice spoke in my head. "You must not die here. Get up and fight."

"You want me to fight?" I thought almost as if I was speaking back to my own delusion. The death machine was lurching towards me and I was defenseless. The metal pony's weapon charged again and rock fragments kicked up over my head.

"How am I supposed to fight that?" I asked. The voice in my head did not answer. Why would it answer? It was only my in imagination.

The clanging of the metal pony's hooves drew nearer. There was another burst of red light that shattered a chunk of the rock. The blast drove tiny bits of stony shrapnel into my hide.

"Surrender zebra invader. All hostiles will be eliminated!" the metal pony said with a sure intent to kill.

I needed time to think of a plan. I saw the rundown shack from where I had woken not far ahead. If I could get back to it I might be able to buy myself a little more time. The metal pony was deadly but slow. There may be just enough time to get to safety. There was another blast, then another.

"Run Zythus! You need to run," I told myself. I did not wish to die here but I could not make my limbs move. Just then I heard a rustling in the dry dead bushes not far from me.

A scorpion! I had seen them in books from the Stable but none of this magnitude. The scorpion was huge and stood almost half as tall as a full grown zebra. There were two massive claws and a poisonous tail that hung menacingly above its body. The jet black sheen of its armored carapace gleamed in the dull sunlight. The mutated beast took up an aggressive stance and skittered directly towards me to attack.

I was trapped. If I ran out from my cover I would be open to attack from the metal pony. If I stayed I would fall victim to the monster scorpion. Not knowing what else to do I waited for the scorpion to get close and activated my S.A.T.S (Stable-tech Arcane Targeting System). I doubted trying to buck the creature bare-hooved would have any effect but I had to try. To my dismay even with S.A.T.S. my odds looked less than favorable of inflicting any damage. I unleashed the spell and let my back hooves fly. Not only had I overshot my target (horribly) but the beast countered and sunk its venomous stinger deep into my hind leg.

This time I bellowed from the pain as streams of crimson poured from where the stinger punctured my leg. My body reeled as the poison seeped into my bloodstream. I flew out from behind my boulder cover with a burst of adrenaline. Another beam of red tore out from the metal pony's weapon grazing my back and burning a small patch of my striped coat. I needed to get back to the scrap-metal hut as there was no other practical cover left.

As I neared the shack my gallop was forced to a slow hobble. My left hind leg was going numb and had started to give out on me. The poison coursed its way through my body and my sprint had only quickened the process. I turned for a moment to see the metal pony fire another shot well over my head and scorpion continued its pursuit of me too. The armored arachnid was much faster than my other aggressor and was closing in.

"Is there anything else that possibly could go wrong?" I thought.

"Ugh, you had to ask. You must know what happens when you ask that." I heard the light voice in my head lament.

A shadow briefly fell over me from above. I looked up to three strangely shaped birds flying in unison. No, they were far too large to be birds. For a moment I was more terrified by the strange flying creatures than my more immediate threats. They passed over so fast and at such high they soon vanished from my view before I could make anything of them. The scorpion was getting closer to me and was nearly within range to deliver a final blow. I had to drag myself into the shack after having lost all feeling in my hind leg.

*** *** ***

I propped myself against the door and activated the inventory spell of my Pipbuck. Father said he had packed me supplies but what were they? Bandages and anti-venom potions were the first two items to catch my eye. I immediately administered the anti-venom and got to work wrapping up my hind leg. The burn on my back was sorrowfully out of reach and my ear was a lost cause. As feeling began to return to my leg and I sat up on my haunches. I used the desk and file cabinet to barricade the door and continued to scan through the remaining items in my inventory.

I heard the claws of the scorpion scratching away at the door and its tail beating against the walls. I heard a blast from the metal pony strike the shack leaving a yellowish glow on the wall.

I noticed the weapons tab of the inventory spell was oddly illuminated. I had not thought to check it at first since it was a function really only used by the security and military zebra. A 9mm pistol outfitted with an alchemy imbued silencer was in my inventory. Why had I not thought to check my supplies before stupidly running out into the unknown? I retrieved the pistol from my saddlebag and found it came with a synthetic fabric holster. I strapped the holster onto my right foreleg and drew the weapon with my mouth.

At that time I realized that I no longer heard the scratching of the scorpion at the door. Similarly I had not heard any further evidence of the metal pony. I gingerly crept to the window to see if anything had changed outside. I peeked out to see the scorpion had turned its attention to the metal death machine. Red bolts of light erupted from the robo-brain pony's weapon. It was focusing its efforts on the mutant scorpion.

I was shocked to see the armor of the beast holding up to the fearsome pony weapon. (And here I had tried to buck the damn thing.) Once the scorpion was in range it latched onto the foreleg of the metal pony and struck at it with its tail. The glancing attack left the metal pony unfazed as it returned fire now point blank to the enemy scorpion.

There was nothing left. The final shot from the metal pony's weapon reduced the mutated scorpion to nothing but a fine pink ash. Its remains gently blew away in the breeze. I was relieved to see that one problem was able to take care of the other but there was a new sense of dread that filled me when I saw the full lethality of the metal pony's weapon.

It then resumed its pursuit of me.

"Your attempts to evade the Ministry of Wartime Technology are futile. Surrender yourself or be annihilated." its lifeless voice spoke.

Somehow I doubted surrender was going to be a viable option. I ducked my head back down hoping the metal pony had lost me and would wander away after giving up its hunt. The thought was becoming unlikely now as it was now close enough that I could hear the turning of its gears and the whirring of its power core. The brain-bot pony was canvassing the little hut that held me just waiting for me to give myself away. I firmly gripped my newly found firearm in my teeth. My skill with guns was unimpressive but with S.A.T.S. I stood a chance of getting in at least one good shot. I prayed to the ancestors it would not have to come to that.

My prayer fell on deaf ears. I saw the door of the shack begin to glow red and then white with heat. A blast of the metal pony's red beam blew the door clear off its hinges and knocked away the furnishings I had propped against it. A plume of fire poured into the room so fast I was barely able to scramble out and through the window. The diabolic piece of walking scrap had a flamer weapon similar to Qlon's.

I crashed gracelessly face first into the dirt outside barely able to keep a grip on the pistol. I gathered myself back onto my hooves hoping I could flank the metal assailant from its side. I darted around the shack and found the broad side of the metal pony's body. I activated my PipBuck's targeting spell at close range. The three chirps from my 9mm were met by two unsatisfying clings off the brain-bot's steel hide. The third shot flew wide.

All I had managed to do was regain the killing machine's attention. It turned to me and let out another trail of flame. Luckily for me its moves were slothful enough I was easily able to dive back around the corner of the structure. I was at an impasse. The brain-bot pony seemed bulky enough that I could evade it indefinitely by ducking around the building’s corners. I feared the little 9mm did not pack enough firepower damage it. I could have simply tried to gallop away but it did not seem like I could get out of range of its primary weapon before it could track me down.

As if this predicament were not bizarre enough the lighter voice in my head sang out a little warning which affirmed my suspicions.

"All around the house of scraps,
The pony chased the zebra,
The zebra tried to run away,
POP! Went the zebra,"

Cute.

We continued our foalish game for a few minutes while I racked my brain for a solution. I feared the metal pony would eventually figure it could just level the rickety little shack to get to me. As far as I could tell it had the capability to do so.

I reactivated my PipBuck's inventory spell. It was no simple task looking for something useful while continually needing to duck around corners to avoid incineration. It would be nice if the spell had a pause feature.

Success! My stealth cloak: I had it all along. For the second time I cursed myself for not looking through my saddlebag sooner. I slid around the next corner and withdrew the shroud. I was able to finally don it after completing the next turn.

I was nearly sure the metal pony would not be able to detect me behind my cloak. Zebra alchemy was powerful but not infallible. Cautiously I backed away from the structure. The gruesome head of the metal pony came into view as it rounded the edge of the little building. It seemed as if it looked my way but continued to circle around. Maybe it was just my imagination.

I hoofed at the half-ear under my cloak. I was lucky to be alive considering the circumstances. Of course most of this could have been avoided if it were not for my own stupidity but I felt angry. At first I was angry at the metal pony for taking my ear. As I watched it continue to circle the shack all I wanted to do was destroy it. I wanted to destroy it not just for the loss of my ear but because it was a violent pony built abomination that needed to be demolished. If I was a braver zebra I may have tried but I was severely outmatched. Even with the protection of my cloak I lacked any effective means to destroy the murderous machine.

Damn those ponies. What sick minds did they have to manufacture a creation of such evil? Ponies and their war machines like this one were responsible for the deaths of more than hundreds of thousands of my people. I realized I was not angry at the brain-bot but at the ponies who created it.

It was easy to shun ponykind when I was convinced they were extinct. All of them dying in a holocaust of their own design seemed a most fitting end for them. To me they had been an ancient evil long gone from this world.

I thought back to Stable Forty-Seven. I wondered if the ponies that built it had expected my ancestors to be grateful. As if the ponies said they were going to wipe out life all on the planet but that they had set aside a subterranean prison for zebras to torture us in. What a joke. I had never taken much pride in myself or my people's heritage. For all I had known my tribe was the last remaining people left in the world and I was the lowest among them all. I was in a new world we thought no longer existed. I now knew this place held the potential for ponies to still be alive. For the first time, since I could remember, I felt a little pride in myself. I stomped my hoof on the dirt below me.

I really hated ponies.

*** *** ***

I hiked for several miles through this new and seemly endless unknown expanse. My destination was still seemed a days trot away and I was doing my best to pace myself accordingly.

A few hours had passed since this morning’s rude awakening. My first instinct after surviving the encounter was to get home despite my father's warning. I had scanned my PipBuck and found the tag my father left. I was far beyond the familiar overhead view of Xenolith (or Runner's Folly as our PipBuck's called it). As I plodded along the automap was weaving the surrounding landscape into its program. When I found Whitetail Wood on the map and it seemed so small and though I was not far from its boarder it felt distant. Yesterday my whole universe lay within one tiny quadrant and now the horizon seemed to expand indefinitely.

I needed to get home but there was no way I could cross Whitetail alone. Even with my cloak the only thing waiting for me in Whitetail was a quick death from radiation poisoning. Somehow I had made it out of Whitetail and as it stood Hornet was my only lead. I was begrudgingly forced to accept my father's mission.

I eventually succumbed to thirst and my own inquisition.. I now had plenty of time to take of stock of my inventory and had noticed no mention of this 'jewel' father had told me I was supposed to give to Hornet when (or if) I found him. I was slightly disconcerted by this fact and felt it warranted a visual inspection of my saddlebag. I needed to stop for a drink and not much to my surprise I had not been granted a single bottle of mead to take with me on my journey. I guess I should not take for granted there was several days of food and water in my saddlebag.

Beneath the shadow of my stealth cloak I sipped from my water bottle. I fastidiously sorted through my pack in search of the special bauble I had (for some reason or another) been entrusted with. There was a fair quantity of medical supplies which in light of this morning’s debacle was a blessing. Having an overworked doctor for a father was not without some advantages. After some careful digging I uncovered a soft lavender pouch. I loosened its drawstring and a round black gem landed in my hoof.

The small globe was hard and sturdy but was strangely lightweight. I marveled at its craftsmanship. I knew little of gemstones but its flawless cut was impossibly spherical. "What makes this tiny trinket so special?" I wondered. My question directed my eyes back to my map and the tag still distressingly far off in the distance. If I wanted to get my answer I would have to keep up the pace.

*** *** ***

Good morning students. Welcome to your first day of Classical Zebra Alchemy. I know many of you fillies and colts are anxious to get started but first I must lay down a few ground rules for our classroom.

Number one: You are required obey my commands at all times. Bear in mind students, just because this is a beginners class does not mean the reagents and magics we will be working with are safe. Alchemy is a precise art and must be given the utmost respect.

Number two: I expect my students to come to class prepared and ready to learn, and by that I mean you must be on time to class for each lesson. Students tardy for class will not be allowed to enter late. Also you are each required to maintain your assigned alchemy kits and be sure you have them with you every day. Each kit has a collection of necessary tools, beakers and vials as well as an electric hot plate that are needed for alchemistical reactions. Should you lose or break any of these materials you will be charged the credits needed to replace them.

Number three: All assignments both in class and at home are to be completed on time. There will be no time extensions or make up exams. Like alchemy itself once you cast the ingredients into your brew you can never take them back. This class is not just about learning alchemy, it is about living it.

With that being said we shall begin...

It was hard for me to imagine what it was like to take part of one of mother's lectures. She was a consummate perfectionist and was ruthlessly meticulous in every detail. As a master alchemist she had had to be. Performing alchemy was serious business. I remember hearing news about a colt a few years my elder nearly blowing his own hoof off while attempting to brew a restoration potion of all things. Luckily for him his fellow pupils had been taking the lesson more seriously. Given my own academic track record and hearing of this colt’s misfortune I never wished to enroll in any alchemy classes my self. Brewing mead was far more forgiving of making mistakes.

Travelling the world beyond Whitetail did leave me plenty of time to go through my parents audio logs. If there was any silver lining to my situation, and I am really reaching here, I did not have to hide in closets to find time to listen to them.

I was now somewhat motivated to learn a bit about alchemy having nothing better to do. My trek was excruciatingly boring. The scenery out here wreaked havoc on my eyes. It was just an unending breadth of flavorless beige and brown. If anything it was more bland and depressing than the Stable interior. It was a feat I once thought impossible.

*** *** ***

The sun sat lazily in the afternoon sky. I had been trotting all day long following the tag on my PipBuck while having no idea where it was leading me. My surroundings were desolate and lifeless aside from the heinous monsters that wandered the land.

Bleached bones and dried out husks of deceased plants spotted the scorched flatness. Mutated insects that had lost all trace of what they had once been became a commonplace sighting. It stood to reason that even if there were any ponies left alive they surely would lack the wear-with-all to survive in this hellish land.

The events of this morning left me inclined to keep my cloak on full time. With all the dangers I had seen out here I was certain I would have been dead without it. I stopped next to the remains of a leafless shell of a long dead tree. Needing another rest I pulled off the cowl my stealth cloak and greedily sipped from my water bottle. Unfortunately, thirst and exhaustion were not dangers my invisibility cloak could keep from harming me. My stomach growled: not to mention hunger. I double checked my rations but thought it best to conserve for now.

I was now a week into my forced sobriety. Since I had awoken in Stable Forty-Seven's detention cell, I had been experiencing shakes, nausea, and terrible insomnia. All of these effects I had chalked up to the 'training' I was receiving in Xenolith. I was now hallucinating and hearing voices in my head. I was terrified by the fact I was feeling a greater loss from not having the honeywine than I did for my tribe and family.

"You are not hallucinating," the softer of my two voices said.

"Yeah? I am not an expert but that sounds exactly like something a hallucination would say to me," I responded feeling foalish for talking into thin air.

There was no response.

I had most of the day to reflect on everything that had transpired since Whitetail. Xohar had said he was making an example of me to keep my parents in line. My father's message told me I would have to find this Hornet fellow and continue his and mother's work. If Xohar was willing to kill me and his own comrades to prevent whatever my parents were doing was that work really worth me continuing? Xohar was dead but it seemed unlikely he was working alone. Did Xohar know about a world outside of Whitetail? Did anyone else in the tribe know? Xohar also said there were many things I could not see, but what were they? I was miring myself in questions again. The tag was still a ways off and it would take me at least until nightfall to reach my destination. I needed to put these thoughts aside and concentrate on getting to my mark.

No sooner had I adorned the cowl I heard a gunshot echo through the emptiness.

I did not have the time to investigate. If I was to reach the tag on my PipBuck's map I would have to press on. I lifted my foreleg to reorient myself to the objective marker when a second shot rang out. I tried to focus on the map but the gunfire continued to thunder in the distance. If there were guns being fired it meant someone had to be firing them. I shuddered to think there could be a dozen or more of the brain-bot ponies wandering around firing randomly at things.

No, I was convinced someone had to be doing the shooting. Could there really be anyone alive out here? If there was I needed to see it for myself. I lowered my PipBuck and focused on the sounds. Shrouded in my invisibility cloak I galloped towards the gunfire.

I came across a small hill overlooking a narrow valley. It seemed like the perfect place for an ambush. I peered down into the shallow basin only to be astonished by what I saw. Ponies... dozens of them. There were more than my eyes could focus on. They were shooting at each other? Ponies were killing other ponies. I could not believe what I was witnessing. Not only did ponies still exist but they were far more savage than our history books ever could have detailed.

I had to avert my eyes from the ghastly scene. Blood was spattered across the valley floor. Bodies of mares and stallions alike lay dying or dead in the sand. These monsters were not just killing each other but were reveling in the massacre. Battle shouts laced with profanities carried through the vale drowning out the screams and cries for help.

I stifled the heave that called to me from my gut. A pony's thirst for blood had not just ended with our people but now they resorted to murdering one another. The injustice was unthinkable. Why should these beastly creatures still be allowed to live? I thought of everything our tribe had endured and persevered through to survive in our humble home and these savage beasts thoughtlessly squandered away the lives they had been spared.
The High Priestess's wisdom was becoming clearer to me. Seeing this I hated myself for how selfish I had been not only to our tribe but my Xanthe and foals. I knew if I was ever to return to Xenolith I would not so easily take for granted the gifts the spirits had blessed us with.

Minutes later the heinous war cries and crashing of gunfire diminished. A morbid curiosity forced me to turn my gaze back to the terrifying scene. Many of the ponies were galloping away with few stallions and mares giving chase. Most that remained however were huddled around three badly damaged caravans that lay closely knit together in the middle of the valley. Now only the mournful sobs of the survivors could be heard. I watched the survivors tend to their wounded. "Loathsome creatures," I thought, "they should have all died."

*** *** ***

The sun was beginning to set. I took a moment to check my PipBuck's map and found it increasingly unlikely I would not reach my mark before nightfall. Even if I had not allowed myself to get distracted I doubt I would have made it anyway. My parents had provided me with a sleeping bag and it looked like I was going to need it. Hopefully I could sleep in it under the safety of my cloak. Finding a reliable shelter was now becoming my top priority.

The land was becoming more rock than sand and dust. Large stones protruded from the ground like hooves grasping to free themselves from the earth. One of these formations may serve as a decent refuge assuming nothing else had already taken up residence underneath. I cautiously activated my PipBuck's lamp spell in search of a place to rest my legs for the night.

I investigated a few of the larger rock faces but found nothing suitable. I needed to stop for some water so I dropped to my haunches and sat against a mostly flat stone. I retrieved my bottle and pulled my hood back for a drink. The lukewarm liquid relieved the parched dryness from my tongue but still left me wanting. Perhaps I should eat now before it grew much darker. I unwrapped a chunk of honeycomb that had been packed and chewed letting the sweetness take me over. The taste made me long even more for the sweet meads of the Humble Bumble. I discarded the waxy remnants and was then alerted to a distant sound.

My ears perked to the sound of cries and hysterical laughter. Seriously, more ponies? For a race that up until this afternoon I believed had been long extinct they sure had an annoying way of showing up out here. Had the circumstances been different I would have likely ignored the sounds and walked away yet I found myself unable to so. Maybe it was more of the morbid curiosity I had developed for these ancient demons, but more likely I think it was pride that forced my hooves. My whole life I had never been better than anyone. I was a failure set adrift in a sea of black, white, and grey but now there was something I could be greater than and I could not resist the urge to prove it.

I crept through the stone alleys and turned into an alcove of jagged stone. My eyes only had a mere instant to capture the scene before my body jerked away in disgust. Just when I had begun to think ponies could not be more reprehensible an unspeakable sight unraveled before me. Ponies did not just stop at murder but had actually desecrated the bodies of their dead. Mutilated remains of the deceased were strewn from the hooks and chains that hung across the rock face like festival banners. Corpse filled cages littered the ground and dangled from above. A bonfire in the center cast light against the stone walls revealing crimson mosaics hoof-painted in blood and gore. My stomach wrenched and my blood boiled. The psychotic jubilations and floods of vulgarities that spewed from these ponies resonated against the rock face and throughout my ears. Ponies were evil: just evil.

"This is a waste of time Zythus," the voice in my head spoke. "This is not your concern. There is no reason for you to get involved."

"I am not listening," I thought back, "You are not real."

"This is not you."

"And what am I?"

"A coward," the voice intoned.

I rattled my head in an attempt to shake the pestering influence from my mind.

It had never been in my nature to harm another living thing but any right these monsters had to exist was forfeit. This was not going to be murder: I was righting a mistake made by fate centuries ago. Ponies were no different from the beasts of Whitetail. They were nothing more than a scourge on this land that needed to end.

Invigorated by a kindling sense of justice, I drew my pistol and lowered my cowl.

"Have you lost your mind Zythus?" the deep voice in my head beckoned.

"I am having an internal dialogue with myself. Does that answer your question?

"This is no time for games. You are going to get us killed," he warned.

"They will not be able to see me," I retorted. I bolstered my gut in preparation for the grisly scene. I then peered back into the alcove to assess my strategy.

"So that is your plan. You just trot up behind and shoot them all in the back? How very heroic," the deep voice scorned.

My rage was a floodgate fit to burst. My fury was now almost equal parts of my hatred for ponies and the relentless antagonizing of my imaginary companion. "Damn it! Shut the hell shut up!" I audibly screamed.

There was no response. My silenced 9mm fell to the ground with a subtle clack. My lungs were robbed of breath. My pretense of bravado fully vaporized and had been replaced by an abject fear. The wild raving of the ponies stilled and there was a moment of fretful silence.

Then there was the crying. It was not the brand lunatic wailings let off by the pony devils but that of children. There was immediate twinge in my heart. I remembered the cries of my sons. How I had once cringed underneath a buffer of pillows to drown them out. Memories of how my Xanthe would compassionately coax their teary eyes back into restful slumber. Now their crying was a bittersweet song in my memory. It had been only a week since I last heard them but my heart yearned to hear the crying of my foals once again.

"Oh me oh my," a mare's voice hissed. "It ssseems we have a visitor."

The youthful cries gave way to the crazed gibbering of the pony murderers therein. I had time to run as the ponies skulked towards my location but my hooves refused to comply. My gun laid visibly in the dirt exposing my position and soon the savages would be upon me. I could taste their foul stink of dry feces and rotting flesh. My eyes watered from the repugnancy.

The wild yellow eyes of the mare I assumed was their leader slithered out from around the rock face. Her eyes were hypnotic and appeared almost reptilian in nature. Although her facial features were hard to distinguish in the diminishing light, her eyes were paralyzing. A sour green light emitted from her forehead from where a horn protruded. It was a unicorn. She was one of the magic using ponies. The same glow wrapped a sheath around my firearm as it floated inches away from my cloaked hooves. She stepped out into the corridor of stone in which I stood inspecting my weapon.

"Where are you my little pony?" she spoke, her words snaking off her tongue.

Two brutish pony stallions emerged from behind her. Each wielded a firearm whose design I did not recognize. All three of the ponies were filthy, covered in scars, and wore vicious looking barding. Their armor was crudely stitched together from scraps of leather and fragments of metallic offal. The stench was so unbearable that I could not breathe. I feared I would asphyxiate if they did not kill me sooner.

The green light surrounding her horn intensified and filled the alley with an acidic green glow. Her eyes scanned the area and then turned directly to me. By the ancestors! How could I have been so stupid? My cloak concealed me, dampened my hoofsteps, and masked my scent but it could not cover my tracks. My hoofprints led her right to me.

Dubiously the lead pony mare extended her foreleg towards my chest and her hoof grazed against the ethereal fabric. Then with a forceful yank her hoof tore the cloak from my chest exposing the whiteness of my underbelly. A fiendish smile streaked across her muzzle. She floated the 9mm and pressed it to my head.

Her stallion cohorts looked noticeably confounded at my appearance. I assumed that just as I had never seen a live pony they likely had never met a zebra. I wanted to say something. I wanted to say anything at all that would deliver me from my impending fate. I was standing before the High Priestess again. "Please spare me." I wanted to whimper but the words would not come. There was no escape here and I already had resigned myself.

"Well lookee what we have here boysss," she said. Her fetid breath violated my nostrils. Her companions responded with incoherent chortles.

"Ift's uh blak en wite pomy?" One of them replied through the weapon in his maw.

"Shut up you idiot," the pony mare retorted glaring back at the stallion. "This here'sss nopony." Her eyes wandered for a moment as she thought. "Zebra... yesss that's right."

If it were not for the fact I was about to die I may have legitimately been impressed this animal was able to identify what I was.

"How fortunate aren't we boysss?" Ain't often the prey just trotsss inta the mouth of the predator."

I cringed. I feared she was not speaking in metaphor.

"Now what to do with you?" she taunted with a serpentine smile. She levitated a jagged and rusted hoofblade and pressed to my bare breast.

Terrible thoughts of having my hide skinned and strung up as a tarp like the ones in their camp filled my mind. Who was I fancy myself as a hero? Did I really think I had what it took to fight and kill these monsters? I was a coward and I was going to die a coward's death. I closed my eyes. I could allow myself not watch.

"You know the funny thing about ponies and zebrasss," she hissed and ghoulishly cocked her head. I could feel her blade start to cut into my chest. "They're red on the inside."

BOOM!

The mare was right. Blood and bits of what was once her face and muzzle sprayed against mine forcing a gag. The green aura around the remains of her horn dissipated. The spell that held the gun and hoofblade fizzled and caused them to drop to the ground. The sickly green aura that lit the alley faded. The mare's earth pony companions turned back towards the camp and opened fire with their own weapons. Whoever or whatever saved me was back still back there.

Sensation returned to my body and once again my hooves were obedient. With the two ponies distracted I could have made a clean getaway. Then through the echoing in the earthen walls I could hear the crying again amidst the gunfire. I thought of my infant colts. If one left them here defenseless in this wretched place it would be no different than killing them.. If they were my sons I would have needed someone to protect them. They may be ponies and they may one day grow up to be like these savage animals but kids are kids right? I knew it was possible my foals too were in danger back in the Stable and I could use the karma.

My tail snatched up my silenced pistol from the dirt below and into my mouth. I slipped into S.A.T.S. to take the shot. Even with my dismal marksmanship I wager I could have handled one of these monsters at point blank range without it but thought I better to leave nothing to chance. Three well placed chirps from my 9mm and the earth pony closest to me dropped down. Two more deafeningly thunderous shots fired from within the camp and the second earth pony slumped to the ground as well. I heard several hoofsteps coming up from the alley from behind me and they were headed this way. I would have to retreat to the grim campsite and hope to make a stand there.

*** *** ***

There was a new pony in the camp. This pony was decidedly unlike the three that lay dead in the alley but still a pony just the same. He was propped behind one of the hellish cages that lay in the alcove. I came into his sights and I found myself suddenly was staring down his polished chrome revolver. S.A.T.S. had only partially recovered when I reactivated the spell. One shot was all I was going to get with my targeting spell's assistance, and with my target behind cover my odds were unfavorable, however, in the trance of the targeting spell I observed something. This old stallion was not using the cage as cover but he was attempting to open it. The crying was coming from that cage. I dropped the spell without taking a shot.

The same could not be said for the chestnut brown earth pony. Another thundering shot tore from his powerful firearm. I recalled how the mare’s face was nearly obliterated by a single shot from this gun and was certain I was to befall the same fate. However the shot flew by leaving only a ringing in my ears.

"Vrats culd ah vrarnin shat," the white and silver maned earth pony muttered to me in a grizzled tone. "Na git va 'ell owtta ere shripebac."

I did in fact have stripes on my back but it occurred to me his statement coupled by the gunshot carried an intended offence. I hated the idea of trying to collaborate with of one of these demons but with my limited options I thought it wiser to try. There were more bloodthirsty ponies en route and there was no way I could handle them on my own. For the moment our goals seemed to be aligned and I was short on alternatives. At the very least this pony appeared slightly less intent on killing me than the others had been.

"More are underway," I cautioned. "We must protect the children!" I pleaded hoping I was not to elicit something worse than the warning shot.

The stallion sneered back and me and spat his revolver to reload. If it were possible the brown pony seemed even less enthusiastic about working together than I.

"Then git yer striped ass over here an' cover me," he groaned as he locked the cylinder of his revolver into place.

I scurried to his side as he continued to fumble with the cage's lock. He seemed to be having little luck. His eyes caught mine as if to ask if I knew anything about locks but my apologetic gaze was the only answer he needed. Two little colts huddled in the cage in a panicked silence. Their eyes spoke of untold horrors they had witnessed. Their coats were covered in cuts and burns. These colts were being tortured and those ponies were treating it like a sick festivity. There were no words for the atrocities those ponies had been committing. Even pony colts did not deserve such a fate. They held each other in their hooves silently begging us to release them.

"There was a mare." I said. "The one you shot. She may have the key."

"Ru in'eres'ed n checkin' 'er pokits den?"

Damn, I dug myself into a hole there. I very much did not want to go back out into the alley with reinforcements on the way. I would not have been given the chance anyway as a half a dozen ponies, in similar vulgar garb as a first three, entered the scene. Luckily for us they were armed with pipes, spiked clubs, and hammers.

My unintended ally was just as fast on the draw as before. Five shots thundered from the muzzle of his cannon-like firearm. I was feeling less shy about fighting back as well. I managed three whispered shots from my 9mm under the guidance of my now fully recharged S.A.T.S. I likely emptied the remainder of my magazine into the surrounding rocks. Four of the attackers fell as the other two retreated back behind the rock wall. That gave us a moment to reload and then our adversaries turned the corner again. This time they had the foresight to collect the large unfamiliar guns from the lead pony's guardians. They came out firing.

A hail of lead showered towards us. They were using shotguns and by the looks of it each one held several rounds. We were too close to the children. There was no real cover but both of us dove away from the cage to draw their attack. We returned fire on the two now shotgun wielding ponies. Without S.A.T.S my shots were likely not much more than a distraction. They were so quiet in contrast to my partner's that I doubt I even provided a worthy diversion.

Wrong. A flurry of shot tore into my hind leg. I fell to the ground and grasped my bloody leg in my forehooves. The chestnut coated pony took the opportunity to roll an odd shaped metal ball at the two shotgun wielding ponies. I was too caught up in my own injuries to comprehend what my earth pony associate was doing. I did see the eyes of our remaining two attackers go wide just before the innocent looking little ball detonated at their hooves.

*** *** ***

I staggered behind them with my leg swathed in bandages. I was in need of serious medical attention. My medical skilled were mediocre at best but I knew if I were to drink a healing potion now it would only seal the shot into my flesh. The lead in my wounds needed to be extracted properly before it could be healed. I settled for the Med-X my father had provided to alleviate the pain and the bandages I used to slow the blood loss.

I had insisted they go on without me but Flynt made some uncouth remarks about, well I shall just say, my negative attitude and corralled me into following along. There was a doctor with the caravan and he said she could treat my wounds. As much as I hated to admit to myself this pony saved my life and whether I liked it or not for now I would allow him to be responsible for it.

I had mixed feelings about accepting his offer to help me. I doubted he had any notion for zebra customs and I was not keen at the idea of allowing aid from the enemy. He was a pony even if he was not as overtly grotesque as the ones from the camp. Flynt referred to those ponies as 'raiders' although I was not really sure what that implied. Our unlikely alliance was out of mutual and immediate need. Now that the two colts had been freed of that horrible place I was no longer inclined to maintain it. The blood oozing from my hind leg made a powerful argument in favor of joining him for now though.

Since I was now obliged to continue along with him I concealed the two colts we rescued beneath my stealth cloak for safety. Luckily it had remained intact throughout the previous ordeal. Despite the tragedy the two colts had endured they took to the idea of being invisible as being quite novel. Every so often one of their little muzzles popped out followed by a tiny snicker. Even the seasoned Flynt had never seen anything like my cloak before. He told me ponies in 'the wasteland' as he put it did have a type self concealment device albeit it's effects were only temporary.

Before we had left the 'raider' camp Flynt, who I almost began to think had some sense of civility, was quick to banish those thoughts from my head. After freeing to two colts by which I mean Flynt got frustrated with the lock and decided to 'pick the lock' with his magnum. More sophisticated locks may just have been damaged beyond any hope of opening but the flimsy thing just burst into pieces. I was not really turned off by this. I was just happy to see the colts freed. I had been tending to my badly bleeding hind leg Flynt began another ritual I found less than tasteful.

Flynt searched the fallen raiders for weapons, food, and supplies which was highly uncouth. They were ponies after all. What notion of respect could they really have? I know Zurma collected the final effects of the Xenon the fallen Xenolith scout but she was one of ours and it was not like we killed her. What really repulsed me was Flynt's final routine. After looting the dead bodies Flynt brandished his own hoofblade and collected a forehoof from each of the nine fallen ponies. I could not bear to watch as the chestnut brown pony severed flesh from each kill as if to keep each one as a trophy. I reviled at the thought but was too caught up in my own medical needs to pay him much attention. Even if he had saved me, Flynt was still a pony.

Moonlight blanketed the wasteland through the canvas of thick clouds above. Despite my injury the night brought me the most comfort I had felt since I was torn from the empty closet in Stable Forty-Seven. In the darkness I could stare upwards and pretend I was still with my people in Xenolith. I could hear the nocturnal creatures of the wasteland stirring in the brisk night air just as I could hear the sounds of the Whitetail beasts from within Xenolith's wall. I tried not to think about what could be out there and just focused on following the gruff earth pony to his caravan. I pulled up my Pipbuck to see that my original objective was still far out of reach. I would have to wait until I was rested and healed and try again.

*** *** ***

"He got caps?" the medical mare asked as her glasses slid down her muzzle.

The expression on the light pink earth pony’s face suggested she was less than thrilled at the prospect of treating me. Nor did I understand her inquiry to Flynt as I hobbled alongside him into the first aid tent. She addressed him directly as if I were not even there.

"You c'n take it outta my payment," Flynt said in his brusque tone.

"Suit yerself Flynt. But what business ya got bringin' one of those things around here?"

"Got my reasons," he grumbled.

The mare shrugged and rolled her eyes at Flynt. She then turned her attention to my leg. In the light of the tent I could see that my blood had soaked through much the bandages I had prepared earlier.

"Alrighty now, let's see what we got here." She clopped over to me then gestured for me to follow.

"Raider popped his leg fulla buckshot." Flynt responded. "Take care a him alright Bliss? I have some business to discuss with Cruise."

The earth pony medical mare laid me down on a cot and carefully unwrapped my leg. Blood seeped from the multiple wounds that lay deep in my hide. I wanted to seem grateful but pony medical practices were unbearably crude. There was no anesthetic, no sophisticated tools, or instruments. There were just some forceps, a scalpel, and a bottle of what I prayed was some kind of antiseptic. I bit down hard on the moist rag she provided to keep from screaming in anguish as she tweezed the tiny metal balls from my body. There were five in all If the raider had hit me elsewhere it was likely I would have bled out at the scene. Once all the lead balls were removed I guzzled a healing potion and finally felt at ease as the wounds closed. After the day I had it was hard to feel fortunate but for some reason I did. Doctor Bliss told me I had lost a lot of blood and needed to rest.

About and hour later Flynt stepped into the medical tent. Doctor Bliss had passed out at her desk and was snoring gently. It was just past midnight and though my wounds had mostly healed I had not slept.

"The colts?" I weakly asked.

"Returned to the parent" he said. "She was" he paused, "grateful."

"Good."

The weight of my eyelids finally took its toll. I was legitimately relieved to know the two colts were safely rejoined with their family. It gave me no joy to help these demons but it was what I would have wanted if they were my foals. Children were innocent right? Even if they matured in to the same kind of despotic ponies we had encountered for now they deserved to live. I felt myself begin to drift from consciousness. Despite the impossible series of events that took place today and being surrounded by ponies in a hostile environment I slept more soundly than I had all week.

Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: What Croquet Mallet? -- Your eloquent voice can always be understood even when holding something in your mouth. You also negate up to ten total points in penalties and/or opponents bonuses that would effect your Speech and Barter checks.