FE: Shadows Over the Wastes

I felt my chest tighten, stomach twisting, and esophagus constricting. My lungs started burning, my eyes going fuzzy, and my forelegs shaking. The ache. It struck as the whole ordeal pulled me from my adrenaline-induced psychosis. I was already out of booze, so I couldn’t numb myself with that. Fiddling through my vest, I pulled a syringe from within. Then, stabbing it into my belly, I felt the fluid drain into my system. Almost immediately, my senses began to dull. Synapses going fuzzy. Head clear, ache dealt with. I let out a deep sigh, tossing the injector aside. It wouldn’t last long. It wouldn’t be enough.

Willow slowed down from the group ahead, meeting with and walking alongside me. She must’ve heard me, sensed me, something. She gave me an oddly soft, concerned look. “Cardinal.” She addressed me the same as she always did, professionally. “You seem… distressed. Unusual for you. Care to talk about it?”

“Y’mean how Ah’m feelin’? Fuck that.” I replied, speaking before I could even think. I bit my tongue afterwards, frustrated with my own tone. “Just… achey.”

She takes a deep breath, staring at the pair of ponies leading the group. “It’s about Cake, isn’t it?” She was digging. Trying to confirm that she and I understood what happened, same as it was.

“Yeah. It’s… it’s about Cake.” Shaking my head, I suppressed that gut-twist again. “Her neck, what she did to that mutant. Y’ever see her do that before? You’ve known her longer than Ah have.”

Willow grinds her teeth for a moment. “Once. When we were going through the hospital. She fought the Yellowtape chief there. Absorbed her strength. But… she just tapped it. Nothing like what she did to Him.” She shrugs, “On one hoof, I know I should be worried. But, on the other, I know that if I bring it to her attention, she’ll fight it. She finally feels like she’s useful. Like she’s strong. I don’t wanna take that away from her, Cardinal.” She drifts off, then looks over at me, “But that’s not all that happened in that fight. You put yourself in harm’s way to protect her. Got torn in half just for the chance she survived. Whether or not it was in vain… definitely seems like it wasn’t.” Hesitation. “I heard how you screamed her name, Cardinal. Those tears weren’t from the pain.”

I kept my eyes straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. “It was… Ah just… it was a slip-up. Heat o’ the moment.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Cardinal?” She gets closer, “Me, or yourself?”

“Ah…” I didn’t know. But I couldn’t say that. How could I say that? I’ve done this for a fucking century, why should I stop just because of one slip-up? “Ah don’t…”

“Cardinal.” Using her magic to turn my head, she forces me to look her in the eye. “Please… tell me.” The passive noise of the tunnel fades out, the conversation of the two ponies ahead muffling to a mute. I stared deep into Willow’s eyes, and I saw myself staring back. It was the first time I’d seen my reflection in a very long time. My sunken, sleep-deprived eyes. My gaunt cheeks. The hatred soaked into my features like the very blood I spilled. Her voice was the only thing I could hear. “Have you ever loved, Rime? Are you capable of it?”

The feeling of needles digging into my flesh. Scalpels dragging across my skin, metal binding to my nerves and connecting to my mind. The drugs. The serums. The pain. The ache. I felt it through the painkillers. “A-Ah…” I stuttered. Through the blurring pain, I saw a face, warped by years of torture and agony. Twisted by sorrow. Reassuring emerald eyes. “Ah was never given the chance…” I could finally speak through the haze. “They took it from me. They turned mah love into… somethin’ twisted. Somethin’ hungry. A hunger Ah can’t sate. Ah can’t love, or Ah risk destroyin’ the center of it all. Ah’ve tried and… it all ends the same way.”

“How does it end, Cardinal?” Her voice was soft. It coaxed me forward, like honey.

Flashes, memories, pulled forward from the deepest recesses of my mind. Memories I tried so hard to bury. To forget. I sat over the body of a mare, her eyes lifelessly staring upwards, blood leaking from her mouth. Her torso was ribbons, ribs cracked open like a clam. Her organs were torn to shreds, half eaten, a bloody slurry. Like a pack of wolves had ravaged her corpse. Looking down at my hooves, they were covered in blood, just like my snout, neck, and chest. What was her name?? It was her blood. Remember her name! I ripped into her, tore into her meat. REMEMBER HER FUCKING NAME! Hot tears streamed down my scarred face, mixing with the steaming crimson soaking my fur. YOU FUCKING MONSTER! YOU KILLED HER! SHE LOVED YOU AND YOU CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER HER FUCKING NAME! “They… die. Ah kill them. Ah bury them. Because if there’s anything that anypony’s ever been right about- includin’ you, it’s… that Ah’m a monster.”

“You can’t change the past, Cardinal. But you can act in the present, and change the future. That’s what’s important. Do you want us to be buried?” How could she not despise me? How could she continue to look me in the eye? She hated me once. Why not now? I don’t understand. “I don’t want you to be. Even despite what you’ve done.”

My throat burned.“How could’ya not? Ah’m nothin’ but a cruel beast. Ah’m the ‘Redline’. Ah see the way you look at me. Ah know what you see. You see the same stains Ah feel.”

“You have a gift most ponies will never know, Cardinal.” She shakes her head, “Your life is long, and it’s going to last a lot longer. Whatever it is you’ve done, what you’ve been subject to, you can learn from it. Grow, change. You’re wasting your energy by internalizing it, only hurting yourself.”

“Why the hell do you even care??” I snapped, baring my teeth, “Don’tcha get enough energy from e’rrypony else?? You ain’t missin’ anything important.”

She places a hoof on my chest, and we stop in the middle of the tunnel. I move away, just enough to break contact. “I used to fear you. What you’ve done. When I first heard of you… I suffered so many sleepless nights sharing beds with refugees you made. They stank like death. The death you wrought.” I heard the crackling of embers, rolling rubble, croaks of life being snuffed out. I smelled burning bodies, heard the screams of stallions, mares, and foals alike. The desolate wind of destruction. She shakes her head, “But I know you now and I stand here by your side. I feel you, Cardinal. Your torment. I felt that torment too. The Balefire took everything. Even my ability to see, to think straight, to realize that I still had a future. A long life, like you. I want you to take the same steps I did, make the most of it. You need friends. You need love. I need you too.” Getting closer, she whispers, “I thought I’d be the only one left on this planet after the bombs dropped. I couldn’t see the alicorns. The only ones who walk among us now are frauds.”

I feel my heartbeat slam against my ribs, a reminder that yes, I did still have one. “How… how am Ah supposed to change what Ah am? It’s drilled into me. Hard-wired. Ah tried to go clean, Ah did, but Ah can’t.” I clench my eyes closed, shaking my head. “The ache. These fuckin’ shackles. These weapons they’ve woven into mah bones. Ah can’t stop ‘em. How can Ah get better if Ah can’t change what Ah am?”

Willow places a hoof under my chin, real contact with her. A shot of fear, hate, adrenaline shoots through me. I try to keep it under control. For her sake. “Open yourself up, share the pain with ponies who care about you. Find sympathizers, ponies who know the burden you bear. For me, it worked when nothing else did. If you can’t stand your reflection now, maybe others seeing you change will fix that. You have to try. You’ve survived this far, you can make it a lot further.” She sighs, shaking her head. Glancing down at the floor, she takes a moment, before looking back up at me. “And… if that doesn’t work? You and I are gonna give the Enclave hell, and you’ll get what you deserve. What you’ve always really deserved.”

Pulling my chin away, I look away shamefully, wiping my metal hooves across my face to try and regain my bearings. “Alright… Ah believe you.”

“I’m here for you, Cardinal. You’re more than just energy to me. You all are.” She backs up a little.

“Thanks. Maybe you'll stop callin’ me that.” I reply, starting to walk back to catch up with the rest of the group.

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I sat on the edge of a catwalk, metal forelegs resting against the railing. I stared down at a gently flowing aqueduct. Runoff from the waterfall that these tunnels were connected to in Galloping Gorge. The surface was glassy, smooth, near perfect laminar flow. It was dark in this chamber, off to the side, away from the camp that our group had set up. We were close to breaching on the surface of the Crystal Empire, finally, after a few days of constant tunneling. In the morning, we’d take a maintenance staircase upward, hopefully joining the population of the Empire without being too conspicuous. That was hard for me, but it would have to work.

I heard petite, but heavy hoofsteps behind me, on the metal grating of the catwalk. Looking in the reflection of the water, I see nothing, but I know somepony’s there. “Nice try, Cake. It ain’t gonna work on me.” I broke the silence, my voice reverberating gently through the drain.

“Holy fucking shit.” Her voice came from my left, and suddenly she manifested out of thin air. “I was invisible! How did you know I was here?”

I point to my ears, “Ah have super-equine hearin’. Ah heard yer heartbeat before Ah heard yer hooves on the grates.”

“Damn!” She scoffs, “That’s insane.” She slowly makes her way over, sitting next to me, rather close. She uses a lower rail to lean against, considering our height difference. “There anything you can’t do?”

Taking a deep inhale, and an exhaustive exhale, I click my tongue against my teeth. “Uhhh… can’t cook worth shit. Can’t use magic. Can’t eat squash. Don’t like the texture.”

“Pfft, you and me both. They grew a little bit in the Stable, was always the worst.” She chuckles, looking down at her reflection with me. “So… your cutie mark. The… bloody crescent. What does it mean?”

“Why do ya care?” I asked, looking at her through the mirror-surface of the stream.

She shrugs, “Curiosity, mostly.” Clapping her hooves together, she shoots me a glance. “We’ve all gone over how we got our marks at one point or another. But you’re still a mystery.” Cake taps her forehooves on the rail. “So…? Comfortable sharing?”

I considered it. I felt like of the ponies here, Cake and Willow were probably the two most trustworthy. For particularly obvious reasons. “Ah don’t got a cutie mark, Cake.”

“But… I see it, on both your flanks.” She points to the mark on my hind.

Letting out a half-sigh, half-groan, I shake my head. “It’s… not a cutie mark. It’s a brand. Magical.” Popping the claws on my hooves, I rake them across my flanks, tearing the flesh open. In seconds, it heals back, the mark unchanged. “It ain’t a tattoo, Ah tried peelin’ it off before. It don’t work.”

She looked closer, eyebrows furrowing. She clicked a few things on her Pip-Buck, flipping through tabs. “How does it work? Do you know?”

I shrugged, “Ah dunno. All Ah know is Ah can’t get mah cutie mark so long as it’s there. Ah tried a lot of things. Ah’m bad at all of ‘em.”

“Horseapples.” She retorts, almost instantly. “You’re a pretty good singer, which is more than what I can say for a lot of foalks out here. And your guitar skills are wicked. Honestly, super impressive.”

I thought about it for a moment, but decided to change the subject. I’d dwelled on it for too long today. “You uh… gonna get enough sleep fer tomorrow? Yer gonna need t’be at 100%”

“Ah, shit, you’re right.” She sighs, getting up and stretching. After a long yawn, she smacks her lips. “Alright, Carrie. I’m uh… gonna go lay down with the rest. She pauses for a moment, looking over at me. “Stay safe, alright? Try and get a few winks of sleep.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mmhmm, don’t let the rad roaches bite. Or Fizzle. She has a tendency to drool on ‘er pillow.”

Cake snickers, starting to make her way back to the group, exiting through the adjacent door. “Duly noted. Night, Carrie. Thanks for being so… cordial.”

I crane my neck around to watch her leave, before resting my head on the rail I leaned upon. I didn’t know how sleepless this night would be. With all that happened, I hoped maybe I’d pass out from exhaustion. Otherwise, the only things I had left were Dash and Rage. That, and what I got from Derpy. I blinked, and suddenly things were different. I was too sober.

I sat in the passenger seat of a car. In an open stretch of road. Somewhere coastal. I could see the ocean. I could see myself in the glass. I’m a foal again. No older than seven or eight. Vision accented by round-frame glasses. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, buck?” It was His voice. How it comforted me.

“Y’always get such nasty looks when we’re out. Such harsh criticism in yer columns n’ articles.” Big words, for a pony so young. “How come, Pa?”

He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment. “Ah messed with forces that haunt me. Darkness. It seeped into you… n’ yer sister. Things Ah’ve done… ain’t easy t’forgive. T’forget. It’s a curse, but… Ah’m workin’ on it.”

I hesitated, eyes twitching in the reflection. “Does it ever go away?”

Silence. He was formulating the best answer, or at least trying to. I saw His emerald eyes in the window, locking with my own. “No, buck. No, it don’t.”

The door to the bathroom opens, and a stallion stands in the doorway. An earth pony, clad in Enclave standard issue tac-ops gear. Really the only details I can get of his face are his mismatched blue and green eyes, and his dandelion colored fur. The eyes are enough for me to know him. “You alright, ma’am?” His eyebrows turn upwards, and he cocks his head. “You look… pale. More than usual.” His eyes trail towards the chunks lining the porcelain bowl. A device on his left foreleg trills. An alarm. “Star…”

“I’m fine, Gel.” I close the lid, flushing what remains of my sickness away. Standing, I get to washing off my face in the mirror. Because we were occupying the Stable, I took the liberty of removing my power armor. I didn’t really need it, especially not for these rodents. I wore a skin-tight black bodysuit, holes for my wings, and framing for the Psycho-Sync planted in my back. Slicking my short mane back with some water, I shake myself out. “Any leads regarding Gamma-87?”

Gel steps in, pulling an injector from his tac belt, laying it on the off-white counter. “Nothing so far. Just what we’ve been fed time and time again over these few weeks. She was a reactor tech, disappeared months ago. Small, fat, highly intelligent and unremarkable.”

“Sure fits the profile.” I unzip my collar, uncovering my usual injection sight, right on my neck. “The baker and the artist. What about them?”

“Friends, supposedly. Analysts say the former will break too easily, the latter, not at all. Seems we can’t get our sweet spot yet.” Turning towards Gel, he gently keeps hold of my left foreleg, bringing the injector up to its normal spot. He knows I don’t handle needles well. “We’ll find something soon. I’m sure of it. If not for the Director’s sake, for yours.” Carefully pressing the tip against my skin, the needle shoots into my flesh. I feel a wave of shock and fear pulse through my body, before it slowly begins to fade. The twisting of my nerves dulls, and my mind fogs.

As he pulls the autoinjector away, I rub at the spot he hit. No blood. As per usual. “Thanks, Gel.” Zipping my collar back to its normal state, I nod slightly. “I’ll go talk to the department heads. We have them in the Simulacrum, right?”

“Yes ma’am.” Gel nods, “Want me to accompany you?”

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head, “No, but thank you. I appreciate the assistance with the suppressants. I should be operating to standard now.”

Deep in Gel’s eyes, I catch hint of something. Worry? Pity? I’m not entirely sure. Normally I’d kill anyone for looking at me that way, but he’s my brother. “Good luck, Star.”

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There was nothing in the Stable emergency guides about this sort of situation. Not in the million times I heard Cake recite them, had she ever mentioned a case like this. Was it unaccounted for? Were we all really that unlucky so as to not only lose our reactor tech, but get sieged? I didn’t know if that was the right word for it, but it felt right. No, occupied, that’s the one. I hid in my room with Cherry resting on my bed. They hadn’t killed any more of us, but they weren’t exactly treating us with any kindness. I peeked through my curtains, checking the hall. It was “lights out”. I didn’t know when the time to be active was, but I could think of no better time than now. My eyes unfocused from the hall, staring at the reflection of my violet eyes for a moment, before I moved my head away from the blinds. I glanced back at Cherry, letting the curtains go. “The hallways are clear.”

The earth pony laying across my, unfortunately messy, bed slaps her face into her hooves. “Crap! Ace, what are we gonna do?? They’re definitely here for Cake!” She whisper-yells, shaking her head. “If they’re here for her, they’re here for us!”

I sigh, fluttering my wings and gently floating over to the other side of my room. I look at my tools. My artistic implements. Brushes, piercing needles, a tattoo gun, trying to think of something. “Damnit… there has to be something we can do about this, Cherry.”

Cherry rolls onto her back, groaning frustratedly. “What can we do?? We’re so… screwed! We’re fucked!”

“Alright alright, relax!” I take a deep breath, starting to sort through my drawers. Which were unfortunately unsorted. Much to my active dismay. Stopping for a moment, I look around the counter. They didn’t take our knives. Sure, they were for chopping food, not for flaying flesh. But, it was something. “Before we do anything, I need to know what you know.” I look back at her. “Secrets aren’t gonna cut it. If we’re gonna get out of here we need to be 100% on the same page. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

Rubbing her eyes and sitting up, Cherry shakes her head. “I don’t even know where she actually is.”

“The radio station, Cherry! We have to use the radio.” I move away from my countertop, blue brows furrowed, frustratedly rubbing the backs of my lip piercings against my gums.

She hesitates, rubbing her left foreleg, above her Pip-Buck. “I went in there a few times, but… I…”

Giving her note a once-over in my head, I huff through my nostrils. “You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

“It’s been months, Ace. I’m terrified! We can’t send a signal out now, the radio room’s been fucking hijacked!” She shakes her forehooves in front of her chest. “We’re stranded. We’re at their mercy, and nopony else’s.”

I grind my teeth, feeling my throat tighten. “How did Cake leave through the secret door?”

“I-I dunno. She found something in there. She was a mess after she showed me the reactor. Wouldn’t tell me anything.” She thinks for a moment, then her panicked expression suddenly turns into a grim one. Her face goes pale, ears flopping back. “Oh, dear Celestia… the reactor. It hasn’t been vented since she left.”

I grab a knife from the block on my counter, slipping it into my belt. “We’re going in there and we’re fixing this. We’ll leave, we’ll find where Cake went, and we’ll figure out how to get there.”

“What are you gonna do with that, Ace?” She puts a hoof under her chin, looking worriedly at the blade in my Stable suit.

“What I have to, Cherry.” I made for my door, pressing the button on the side. She scurried to my side, keeping close as I peeked out into the pitch black hallway. I keep my hoofsteps light, and my posture lowered. All I could hear was the sound of the vents pushing air. I tried to avoid light as I crept through the corridors, keeping my eyes focused.

A corner, meeting the Simulacrum. Where the Overmare hosted the garden parties. Where we grew our crops. The place was held by two Enclave soldiers on the inside, and the captain they answered to. I was too curious. I had to know what was happening. I approached the stairwell, sticking to the railing to hide. Cherry tried to pull me away, to little avail. “Ace!”

“Shh!” I turn around, hushing her with a hoof, before I really listen in on what’s going on down below.

4 Stable ponies, one in front of three, Head of Agriculture, Head of Education, and Head of Security. The one at the very front was none other than the Overmare herself. Overmare Silver Lining. On either side of the Stable ponies were a pair of Occupants, standing guard. And pacing in front of the Stable ponies, none other than the sky blue alicorn herself, Darkstar. She didn’t wear her armor. Instead, she wore an all-black, seamless bodysuit. On top, connected to her back, was what looked like a silver spine, lit up with green lights.

The faux royalty let out a bored sigh. “Listen, Lining, I understand you think you have some sway over my authority, but you do not. You abandoned your post in favor of these… tunnel rats, and for what? Only so you could get caught with your hoof in the cookie jar? I know this Stable hosted Gamma-87, and I am not leaving until I get even the slightest trace of where she went.” She chuckles, shaking her head and leaning down. “You’re old and frail, and for a traitorous snake like yourself? That is a death sentence. So take the fall and save your supposed brothers and sisters the heartbreak of witnessing anypony else die. It’s a simple proposal.”

“I’ve told you! I don’t know! She left through a secret entrance into the Stable, and then she disappeared!” The middle-aged mare replies. “No messages, no radio, not even so much as note taped to the fucking Stable door!”

The militant alicorn huffs through flared nostrils, flapping her wings. She circles low to the ground, around the group of administrators. Her forehooves fold behind her back, hind legs dangling, tapping the air impatiently. “You’re telling me you haven’t pinged her Pip-Buck yet?? You honestly expect me to believe that, Overmare?”

Head of Security, Umber Strap, begins laughing, shaking his head. “She has a Pip-Buck 2000 Mark VI!”

Darkstar’s head snaps to him, wrinkles darkening her face. “You find this humorous?? What difference does the model make?”

He laughs harder, leaning back in his cuffed sitting position. “Everything! That function didn’t get added until the Pip-Buck 3000, you stupid bi-”

A green sliver of light gleams through the air, and suddenly Umber stops laughing. His face goes slack, eyes wide. Then, blood begins seeping from his skin, everywhere. He collapses, spilling into a pile of steaming gore cubes. Darkstar takes a deep breath, dusting herself off. “I hope you’ve all learned something from this. I will not take insults lightly. Neither will I tolerate such treatment of a dire situation as Captain Strap has expressed.” She touches the ground, no longer flying, but standing on her hind legs. She stares Silver Lining down, then her eyes slowly careen over. Head rotating. Her pure balefire eyes lock onto me, and her brows furrow.

“SHIT!” I turn to run with Cherry, but as soon as I do, she’s standing in our way. Raising her forehooves, we’re both hoisted into the air by our throats, blazing green magic tight around our necks.Clicking her teeth, Darkstar smirks, shaking her head. “Now where do you think you’re going?” She cocks her head, pupils glowing white, “I think it’s about time we get to know each other, my little ponies.”

“Cardinal?” Willow’s voice softly echoed behind me. She tried to keep her voice low. “What are you doing?”

Tossing the bottle aside, letting it slide across the floor, I sigh. “What does it look like Ah’m doin’?”

The witch sighs, “Besides littering? Moping.”

I spit at her hooves, flashing her a quick glare, before keeping my eyes off of her. “Fuck’s it matter t’ you? Thought ya hated me. Like e’rrypony else does.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, looking back at the gathering of ponies, surrounded by a lantern. They all slept in a circle, rather close to one another. “I see the way you treat Fizzle. You don’t even give her back-talk. Why?”

“Cause Ah’d rather not lose valuable merchandise.” That wasn’t the truth. I knew it wasn’t the truth, every part of me did. Redline spoke before I could. “Happier Ah keep ‘er, happier it makes mah pockets later on.”

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Willow sits with me. “Sure, whatever you say. Why’d you take Cake with you to see Ditzy Doo?”

“How did you-?”

“I can smell her on you.” She cuts me off, passing a glance, “Under all the booze and fucking… blood. Just… haven’t seen her in a while, y’know? Could’ve told me that you were going to visit.” She takes a deep breath, “Guess it makes sense you know her, considering how long you’ve been around.”

I let out a wheezy laugh, shaking my head. “What in hell could ya possibly know about me?”

“More than you think.” She replies.

Her and I stare each other down for a moment. My eyebrows furrow, and I feel a sudden heat pulse through my body. I don’t know what it is. A constricting grip of heat around my throat, boiling blood behind my skin. I didn’t understand where this sudden reaction was coming from, but every fibre of my body twitched with one single command. Kill her. And then, something completely different. NO. She’s trying to be nice, you fucking animal! The two thoughts tried for dominance, and all I could do was try and take the reins. I took a shaky breath. “Why’re you talking t’me? Really talking t’me? You’ve made it a point before that ya think Ah’m a monster.”

There’s an odd look in her eyes. She hesitates, the Witch staring me down. I don’t like it at all. I can feel her scraping the back of my skull with her piercing gaze. “Cake doesn’t seem to think so. Fizzle too. I’m really not too sure what they see in you.”

“Ya’ve made that very clear.” I growl.

“But.” She cuts me off. “I’m… trying to see through their eyes. I’m trying to do better. I’ve started to trust you because of Cake’s insistence. Against my judgement.” Her look softens. “Usually I can read ponies a lot better. But you’re… a steel trap. Whether it be due to my biases or some kind of magic, I don’t know. But I’ve noticed that your words and actions don’t always match. I can imagine your thoughts are much the same.” Willow sighs, “I don’t know you, Cardinal. But… I’d like to.”

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My head was screaming. For whatever reason, the grinding was continuous. Like something had triggered it in my sleep. The car jostling only exacerbated the problem. It felt like my fucking head was going to explode. Every time I closed my eyes, flashing images invaded my vision. Things I couldn’t parse. Carrie glanced over her shoulder, at the wheel, to look back at me. “Ya look like shit.” What a kind statement. However, it really was genuine concern. This look in her eyes, sympathy. “You want somethin’ to quell that headache?” Reaching some claws into her vest, she raises a brow.

“Cardinal.” Willow sternly warns.

“It ain’t nothin’ bad, nothin’ as bad as that damn headache she’s got. Ah can hear her pulse in her skull.” A smirk creeps across her face. “What’ll it be, Cake?”

As easy as it had gotten to understand how her intentions and body language contradicted, this was difficult for me. I knew what she was doing. She was offering me drugs. Honestly, at this point? I’d take anything if it meant dulling this migraine. “Whatever it is, give it.”

“Yes ma’am.” Chuckling, she slips an autoinjector out from her vest. Inside is an oddly colored liquid, bubbles against the glass. “Take this, but only if yer really itchin’ t’kill that ache. Yer tolerance ain’t nothin’, so it should last you a while. It’s a lot.”

Without another word, I take the injector, slipping it into a hole of my bandolier. Willow gives me a worried look, but doesn’t say anything. “What is it?” I’m curious, so I prod her.

“Made it mahself. Derpy’s got her specials an’ Ah got mine. This one… Ah like t’call it ‘Burnout’.” Her tongue runs across her teeth. I didn’t like stooping this low to suppress a headache, but I’d deal with the consequences later. It was bad enough that we were out of Applejack.

A few minutes pass by, and Prim yells out, pushing her hooves on the dashboard. “WHOA WHOA!” Carrie slams on the brakes, and I hear Fizzle slide against the back bed of the vehicle, slamming against the rear of my seat with a loud thump.

“Sweet Celestia, what?!” Carrie snaps.

Racking the bolt on her rifle, she jumps out of the truck. “Fuckin’ Nightkin!”

Everypony follows her out. I check on Fizzle, who thankfully is alright. She sticks with me, and I draw my revolver. We all gather behind a set of Jersey barriers, Prim propping her rifle against the concrete wall in order to look through the old area. This was it. Cantertine. The town was tiny, barely more than a hoofful of houses. She chewed her gum, blowing a bubble. “How the hell did you know they’re here?” Willow inquires, still trying to locate them through the white blankets over the town.

“Look, see there?” She points to the other side of Cantertine, a diner. I can barely make out any details, even with how good my vision is. But I do see figures. Mutant, hulking figures. “I know those blue bastards just from their silhouette.”

The old witch sighs, “They’re guarding the tunnel entrance. There’s gotta be some way to get past them.”

“Turn them into fuckin’ mince meat.” One of Carrie’s forelegs transforms into a heated blade.

“Prim, let me see your rifle for a second.” I hold out a hoof. She groans, but reluctantly hoofs it over. I aim down the sights, getting a clearer picture of what exactly we’re going up against. Ten nightkin. Not a lot, but from what I’ve heard about these guys, it’s more than enough. Something strikes me as I glare down the scope. One of them is bigger, more refined looking. Not as horrifically disfigured. Almost… perfect. A pure blue stallion with a full coat and mane. Piercing yellow eyes. Like a wolf. And something I’d never seen before. He was an alicorn. “Oh fuck.” I lower the gun, jaw slack. “An alicorn.”

Carrie’s expression drops. Confidence seemingly waning. “Son of a bitch. Are y’sure?”

I give Prim back her rifle. “Positive.” I watch as everypony exchanges glances.

“We can’t take an Alpha. We’d get our shit kicked in.” Prim comments.

Sighing, Carrie nods, “Kinda have to agree wit’ the merc here. Nightkin’re one thing. Alphas are one in a million. We’d be better off hopin’ we get a jackpot from scratch-offs than killin’ him.”

“Fuck that. We got this.” I shake my head, looking back to Prim and Carrie. “You two take a bird’s eye view. Report any irregularities in their behavior.” I then point to Willow and Fizzle. “You two, on me, we’re gonna advance on the ground.” I look at Prim. “If you have special ammo, now’s the fuckin’ time to use it.”

“Where the hell did ya learn strategy like this?” Carrie raises a brow.

“Ace forced me to get into Wargaming because nopony else would play. He still beats me every time but I think my plans are solid enough.” I wave a hoof, “Anyway! Doesn’t matter. Any complaints?”

Prim slings her rifle onto her side, shaking her head. “None.”

Carrie and Prim separate. The three of us moved forward, Prim following on the rooftops as Fizzle, Willow, and I encroach on the ground. I keep my revolver close, sticking to the side of a building. I watch as Prim scales a building with an odd belt contraption that was previously wrapped around her chest. Judging from the bluish-black leather, it was probably a gadget from Nightdrive. My Stealth-Buck had the same wrapping. She rolled along the top, galloping and sliding up to the edge of the roof, propping her gun on the edge.

“Ah got good news an’ Ah got bad news.” I hear Carrie call through my Pip-Buck. I found out a while ago she could do that. She wasn’t very subtle about it. “Which one ya want first?”

“Good news!” Fizzle claps her hooves.

Carrie loudly sighs over the Pip-Buck’s radio. “The good news issat there’s only ponies guardin’ the uh… what Ah think is the entrance. No turrets. No mines. No bots.”

Willow huffs, rolling her eyes, “And the bad news?”

“No ifs ands er buts, that’s a damn Alpha. Cake was right.” She snappily replies.

“Son of a bitch.” Willow and I sigh in unison.

Holstering my gun, I look back at Willow and Fizzle. “Alright. New plan.” I keep comms open on my Pip-Buck. “Carrie, watch and wait for my signal. I have an idea, but I can’t know if it’s gonna work yet, so… here’s hoping. I’m gonna try and put my magic studies to work.”

Willow hooks a hoof onto my shoulder. “Cake. I’m the more experienced spellcaster, let me-”

“No.” I raise a hoof. “Just… trust me. Keep Fizzle safe, try and move to my side.” Walking out into the middle of the street, I ruffle my mane, hang my head, and generally try to look exhausted. I always do anyway, so it wasn’t particularly hard. I scouted the buildings, looking for where Carrie might be talking about. Then, I got close. The old restaurant, a diner, stationed with a dozen Nightkin. Among them, on the inside of the building, I saw him. A twisted, warped, unstraightened horn. Like an old oak tree. Then, resting on top of the carved up tires and wrapped chains they wore as armor, a pair of wings. Or at least, they looked like wings. Unlike the other Nightkin, he wasn’t disfigured. His face was perfect. Those glowing yellow eyes, if I caught them too long, they’d burn a hole through my skull. He’s an alicorn. Not like Carrie, where her alicorn traits came from cybernetics. This Nightkin really had a horn and wings. How the hell was that even possible?

As I approached, a pair of Nightkin stallions stood at attention, readying their battle saddles. “You, pony! Why come close?!”

I perked up, eyes widening. “Oh- uh! I was just trying to find some shelter from the storm! I heard from somepony down the road that this place was safe?” I tried to smile, but I think my nerves were working against me. The two stallions looked at each other, considering.

One of them snorted. “What pony say this place safe? This place ours! You leave! Now!”

“Alright alright! I’ll go. Just… you wouldn’t happen to know about any tunnels here, would you?” I probed, all I needed was a yes. Hell, even just insulting me or being territorial about them would be enough.

“Stupid, weak pony not see tunnels! Tunnels ours!” There it is. They bite their triggers, ready to fire.

I focus on my horn, taking a deep breath, feeling the energy that sublimates within me. What I got from those radiated meats wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. A simple spell. In the reflections of the stallions’ goggles, I watch a radioactive blue glow swirl around my horn. “I beg to differ.”

My horn shoots a small, gleaming sphere, no larger than a gumball. The Nightkin follow it as it melts straight through the glass of the restaurant windows. Then, in a blinding blue flash, the windows blow out of the restaurant, and the mutants all recoil. I activate my cloaking device, focusing on the alicorn. The Nightkin, screaming and covering their eyes, shoot wildly. “PONY BLIND US! KILL YOU! WE ALL KILL YOU!”

The ground shakes as Carrie lands, her wings aglow with crimson fire. Dashing forwards, her claws wrap around a stallion’s throat, and with a swift spin, she throws him high into the air. Like he weighs nothing. A flex of her foreleg, and it unfolds into a six-chamber firearm. They whirr loudly, screaming as they unleash a hellstorm of bullets at the mutant in the air. He slices clean in half, like a clay pigeon made of meat. With one wing extended, Carrie seemingly slides against the ground, still standing on her hind legs, leaving red afterimages as she approaches the other front guard. Then, in a quick flex of her left wing, the other Nightkin falls into a pile of sushi-cut gore.

I hear a trio of shots from a rooftop, one nailing a Nightkin in front of me as I sneak into the restaurant. Her brains paint the wall behind her, and she slumps back. Then, another hits the alicorn, stunning them for a moment as they stumble back. Then, a third shot strikes a Nightkin with a grenade. No, not a grenade. A miniature Balefire megaspell. The restaurant is engulfed in green flame, the walls, ceiling, countertops, and booths within blowing apart. I feel the heat wash over my coat, but with that, I also feel a rush. I watch as, even as I’m subject to the kinetic energy, I’m unaffected by the thermonuclear or radioactive energies.

Slamming out onto the ground, rubble raining down from on high, the Alicorn lands before me, his back turned. The last of the Nightkin. He groans, starting to stand up. I draw my knife, bursting forward in a sprint, ready to stab it into his skull. However, I watch as one of his wings unfurls. It wasn’t a wing at all. It was a set of tentacles, wrapped up, masking themself as a wing. A slimy limb shoots towards me.

Blood sprays all over my face. Not mine. Carrie’s. She stands there, tendril through her gut, coughing blood onto the snow. Then, before I can even say anything, the rest of his wing-clutch wraps around her waist. She gasps, lifted high into the air, suspended by her legs, writhing in the Alpha’s grip. “The Redline? Never thought I’d get a grasp on you.” He laughs, his voice deep, growling, a gross approximation of beauty.

“CAKE!” Carrie looks down at me, her midsection starting to stretch, blood raining down onto me. “FUCKIN’! AGH-! RUN!” I back away, listening as her sinew and bones are stretched beyond capacity. “YOU! AAAAAGHAH!” She cries out, trying to squirm against him, trying to escape. Her cybernetic wings flutter, trying desperately to slice at the tendrils holding her hostage. A sickening squelch echoes through the empty town. Then, a snap. Two halves of her fly across the street, intestines strewn across the road, innards raining like confetti.

The Alpha tries to advance towards me, but explosive shells pelt his chest and face. “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU COCKSUCKER!” Prim roars from the roof. Bits of blue flesh rapidly blasting away and regenerating.

“Enough!” The beast growls. A tentacle grabs a sewer hole covering from the asphalt, hurling it towards Prim like a discus. It shatters the corner where she stands, sending her crashing down onto the ground.

I see no other option. I prepare a defense. Drawing my revolver, I watch what limbs I can. I hit three solid shots, three tendrils down. But there’s too many. One wraps around my hind legs. I try to slash with my knife, but it grazes off like a butter knife trying to cut through a rhino’s hide. My vision flips upside down as I’m dangled in the air, then slammed down against the ground. I feel several ribs break, and the cannons of my hind legs snap from his grip. Just as I’m about to scream in pain, a clutch of small tentacles wrap around my throat, and he hoists me into the air. Taunting me. I gasp for air, squirming and kicking as best I can. I feel him squeezing. Twisting. Like he’s trying to open a party popper. “What a joke… thinking you could take me. As much as I like my meals squirming, You killed my kin. And for that. You die.”

The corners of my vision darken, and I feel something in my neck shift. Ears ringing. a black vortex swirls above the alicorn. From it, Willow appears. Manifesting with her is a shear of dark energy, sharp as night’s edge. “LET GO OF HER!” Her voice booms through the snowed-in town with a volley of whispers. Then, she slices straight through the alicorn’s neck. His eyes lose their light, and I drop to the ground. I feel myself hit the blacktop, and everything goes dark.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watch as Willow drops to the ground, holding Cake up to herself, crying. The lower half of my body burns. Steam melts the snow under me as my regeneration kicks into overdrive, eating up all the blood I’ve taken in. I’d need to feed after this, but that is then, I needed to help her now. Feeling slowly returned to the newly healed portion of my body. The Alpha wasn’t dead. I was too far away. I had to catch up. “Willow! Watch out!” I call, my wings unfolding. The blue body lifts up, Willow isn’t listening to me. The Alpha is gonna fuckin’ kill her! “WILLOW!”

A blue bolt of light. Cake is off the ground, clinging to the Alpha, and tackling him. I watch as the massive mutant struggles to pull her off, the little unicorn snarling and drooling all over his face. Like an animal. Like… me. He cries out, wheezing as a green mist pours from his mouth, eyes, and nose. Cake is taking it in, sucking it up like a fine, aerated stimulant. Within seconds, the beast lays still, and I stand beside Willow. She looks up at me, tears running down her face, shaking her head. “I heard a pop, Cardinal. I heard her spine… break.” We both turn our gaze to Cake.

Huffing, she sits atop the Alpha. A once hulking mountain of muscle, now reduced to a shriveled-up, desiccated husk. Her pupils glow white as she stares back at us, like light reflecting off a cat’s eyes. She’s completely healed. Not even a bruise remains. She takes a few breaths, the light fading from her eyes. Blinking a few times, the unicorn looks around, confusion twisting her face. Like we forced her awake in the middle of a good dream. Her brows furrow, “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

I was getting thinner. I started to look pretty average in terms of weight, as opposed to my chunkiness fresh out. The wounds from my scrap in the hospital had more or less healed. Just bits of scabbing remained, which I washed away with water. More scars to add to the collection. I was starting to look like Chopper, at least what I remember him looking like. Or maybe Carrie. I wasn’t thin enough for that though. I couldn’t imagine being that rail-thin. Frail looking, gangly. Whatever. Pulling on my Stable suit, it really settles in how loose it’s gotten. I tighten my bandolier and gunbelt, wrapping my old, torn-away sleeve around my hoof again. Even if it was healed, I found the cushioning useful. I latched my Pip-Buck on, checking the weather. One last blizzard before Winter called it quits.

I pushed out of the bathroom, into the main area of an old home we’d taken refuge in. The floorboards were creaky, the stairs were squeaky, and the walls whispered with the wind. It was dilapidated, clearly neglected, but it still stood strong. Fizzle sat on the couch, sorting our supplies into different saddle bags. She’s taken up a lot of counting activities to preoccupy herself. Ever since the hospital, she’s been much more paranoid, sticking as close to either me or Carrie as she can. She won’t dare go near Prim. I feel for her, I really do. It’s not like I don’t understand what she went through, you know? To be pinned down, overpowered by a feral beast that understands you as only food and a womb. Feeling so powerless. Terrified of the razor-sharp teeth in that maw. Only difference is, I was able to overpower my assaulter. She couldn’t. I had to save her. That must make her feel like such a burden. And shit. It’s not like I don’t understand that either.

Willow was in the kitchen area, trying to prep everything for when Carrie and Prim got back from their little expedition. Hopefully with food for us.

I took a seat across from Fizzle, taking out my revolver. I've cleaned it a lot since my acquisition. Considering it was in that bitch’s hooves, I probably should’ve boiled and bleached it. But Prim’s been giving me shooting lessons while we bunk here. Part of that means disassembling, cleaning, oiling, and reassembling my gun. She did it obsessively, compulsively. Hopefully I won't end up like that. Regardless, I started pulling pieces of the gun off of the frame, beginning the disassembly. After every use, she said. “How far is Cantertine from here, Willow?”

“No further than a few hour’s drive. We can leave whenever we feel ready, honestly.” She sorts through the cookware, a few pots banging together as she shifts things around. “Fuckin’… ugh. Whoever was here last has no measure of a clue on how to organize cabinets.” Sighing, she pulls a few old pans out. “Then again, when I was with-“ she stops, glaring at me. Like she’s biting her tongue. “Cake, do you want a drink?”

Something in my head grinds against itself. Like a mountainside suffering erosion. Grains of sand make my skull itch. I hesitate, “Uh, yeah, yeah that’d be nice.” Then, as she saunters off, I look back at Fizzle. She’s giving me an odd look. “What? What’s up?”

“You caught that, right?” She gestures to where Willow was. “What she was about to say. It clearly had something to do with you.”

I nod, “I know. At this point I’ve grown used to it.” Taking a rag, I start to gently oil the gun.

She shakes her head, “Why don’t you push? Pry? Try to hear the whole thing?”

How could I explain that to somepony like her? The grinding got worse. My throat itches. I started coughing, covering my mouth with a hoof. This one was really bad. My health had declined in the past week, at its worst now. I was running on empty. The wall in my brain was making it worse. Agitating it somehow. I brought a spare rag up to my face, pulling away once the coughing fit stops. Bits of blood soak the fabric. This was some kind of sign. Don’t push. It’ll only end up hurting you more. “It’s not worth it.” I replied. “Not now, at least. Someday when I’ve got more juice in me. When I can handle it better.”

The peachy pony sighs, starting to pack things away. “The target that Crank wants us to track down and your dad are one in the same, right?”

I recoiled a little bit, “I… think so. Why?”

“Just. This whole thing. We’ve been on the road almost four months already. You honestly think we’ll find him?” Shrugging, Fizzle straps her bags closed as she finishes them. “I mean, we’re only gonna find a clue in the Empire, right? What if he turns up dead?”

That was a reality that often plagued me. Thinking about how he was really the only reason I left the Stable. The realization that I wasn’t a Stable pony. Not really. If he’s gone, would it be for nothing? Hard to say. “I dunno. I guess I won’t know until I either see him breathing or find his corpse. Praying it’s not the latter.”

“You and me both, Cake.” She places a hoof on the table, halfway between the two of us. Some show of allyship. I stopped, finished oiling, just having to snap the pieces back together. We made eye contact. There was a light in her eyes that was noticeably missing from most other ponies. Including most of the group. “If only for your sake, I’m holding out hope.”

Willow comes back, holding a trio of drinks in her magical grasp. She sets two on the table. One for Fizzle, one for me. “I hope you like scotch. Whoever owned this place had an expensive taste.” She smirks, returning to the kitchen area.

Fizzle gives me a look. Hesitation. She wasn’t somepony who liked liquor. The only way she’d drink alcohol was if it was in a bottle that said “Sparkle-Cola Dark”. Picky eater? No. Picky drinker, absolutely. She slides the second glass towards me. “Uh… all yours, Cake.”

I scoop it up with a hoof, raising it above my head. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Then, I shoot it back. It’s sweet but strong, giving me a rush of warmth through my brain and throat, following down to my gut. Setting the glass down, I shake myself out. “Whew. That is… strong.” Using my magic, I snap the last few pieces of the gun together. Loading it with fresh cartridges, I slip it back into my holster.

The front door of the house opens, snow blasting in through the crack of the wooden entrance as hooves click against the hardwood floor. With a great heave, the door shuts once again, and the pony who opened it slowly walks their way over. It’s Prim, shaking off the snow, littering the floor with icy flakes that’ll eventually become a puddle. She tosses a pair of duffel bags onto the floor, they loudly slam on the ground with a metallic twang. “Whew! Scavenged what I could. Take what ya can, leave what ya don’t need.” The earth pony huffs, glancing around the room. “Uh. Am I… interrupting?”

Fizzle wordlessly approaches, saddle bags on her back, checking the duffel bag on Prim’s right. Unzip, zip, and a toss over her shoulder. Without making eye contact, she starts moving to another room. “I’m gonna sort this ammo. I’ll work on the other bag when I’m done.” Up the stairs, and presumably into one of the bedrooms she goes. Leaving three of us once again.

Prim, standing on her hind legs, shakes her head. “Fuck did I do?” She retrieves one of her sticks of gum from her pouches, pulling it into her mouth with her tongue.

I gesture to the seat across from me. “Bring the other bag, take a seat.”

She scoffs, doing as she’s told. Dropping the bag on the coffee table, it creaks ominously. Then, she reaches for my other drink. However, before she can, I use my magic to scoot it closer to myself. Growling, she shakes her head. “Cunt.” Unzipping the bag, she leans back in her chair, crossing her forelegs. “There. Take a look.”

Pulling aside the flaps, I sort through the bag. Mostly miscellaneous junk. Low end drugs, caps, bottles of water and Sparkle-Cola, and pieces of old gear. I retrieve one. A hammered metal shoulder plate with straps that I might be able to work into my bandolier. I flip it over, checking the inside. A series of engravings. Raven, Hatchet, and Nitro, all in different styles. “Hm. What’s this?”

“It’s called armor, you should start wearing some, unless you decide you wanna be the group bullet sponge.” Prim explains, “So go on, give yourself at least a modicum of protection. There’s some leather in here too, I’m sure you can work it.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, dickwad.” I huff.

Groaning, the merc blows a bubble, as per usual. Once it pops and swirls back into her mouth, she shrugs. “Stupid tradition lots of Raiders uphold. Every time they get a new piece of gear, they stamp their name into it. So, whenever you loot a corpse, you can know what corpse it was looted from before you.” Prim chuckles, “I’ve seen guns with wood furniture covered front to back in engravings. Chest plates too. Like whole novels were stamped in braille.”

Taking out my knife, I begin carving my name into the pauldron. Just below Nitro. CAKE, all in straight, scratchy lettering. I’m a wastelander. Might as well indulge the culture. Twisted as it may be. “So where’s Carrie? Manage to lose her during the spree?”

The front door swings open once again. In the entryway stands the only other pony it could be. Her eyes glow in her darkened silhouette, her only identifiable feature in this light. Then, with a slam of the door, our eyes all adjust, and we can all see her in detail. All of us stop what we’re doing to stare. She approaches me, standing, walking on her hind legs. In her left hoof, in its claws, she clutches a cloth sack, dripping with… something. In her right, a bolt action hunting rifle, no scope. She drops the sack in front of me, and I watch as burst Bloatsprites and chopped up Yao Guai spill out of the bag, soaking the floor. “Y’can purify these?” She stares me down, pointing at the gory mess.

“I… might be able to, why?” I look up at her, smugly raising a brow.

“Answer the question, mare-mite.” She stays stoic.

I let out a heavy sigh, rolling my eyes and crossing my forelegs. “Heaven forbid I fuck with you for a second. Yes, I can purify them.” I mutter under my breath, scooting forward.

“Git on it, then.” She shambles into the kitchen, grunting loudly.

“Do me a favor and say ‘please’ sometime, dude.” I reach out my right hoof, concentrating, beginning to siphon the rads soaked deep within the meat.

Sniffing at the air, Carrie glares around. “Fizzle. Where is she?”

“She’s in-“ Prim starts.

“Didn’t ask you, merc.” Holding up a claw, she shoots the pony a vicious look, before returning her attention to where it was. Willow. “Where’d she go? Her scent’s still fresh.”

Willow chuckles, not in a funny way, but in a weirded out way. “Track her upstairs, you fuckin’ bloodhound.” She points above.

Snorting like a bull, Carrie turns to me. “Y’done?” She gestures to the gore pile.

“Yes, I’m done. Why?” I recoil, why did she care?

“Cake ‘n Ah‘ll be right back.” Carrie announces.

“She can’t go out in the storm with you, are you insane??” Willow bares her teeth, arguing for me.

I slowly stand up, clipping the shoulder plate to my bandolier. “It’s fine… hopefully it’ll be quick. I have enough in me for strong winds, don’t worry.”

“Hour, tops. Let’s go.” She makes for the door, not another word.

I follow, silently, out into the cold. The wind howls as the snow slowly drifts onto me, and I’m met with the sight of the rest of town. Old, decayed. However, something stands out. A light is on in a small hardware store, one that wasn’t on before. The windows are too hazy to see through, but somepony is inside. Carrie slings the rifle onto me, then gets down on all fours once more. I hear her robotic parts click as she rests, beginning a walk towards the shop. I keep pace behind her, best I can. “The rads. You knew they’d give me strength, didn’t you?” I asked, raising my voice a little so I could be heard over the storm.

Looking over her shoulder, she gives me a stern glare. “Ah don’t know a damn thing about how yer innards work. Ah jus’ don’t want rad sickness.”

I chuckled, “Now- now I know that’s a lie! I know you’re not telling me something.”

“Could be right.” She replies, “But Ah don’t plan on tellin’ ya any time soon.”

Sighing, I kept the pace. We crept closer and closer to the store, before we finally made it to the door. Opening it up and stepping within, I feel warmth wash over my body. Then, I spot her. A pegasus, a ghoul. She was cross-eyed, and had patches of gray fur, and a yellow-gold mane. She glanced over at us, fiddling with something behind the counter. “I didn’t know you were gonna bring somepony with you this time!” Her voice is hoarse, doll-like, high pitched and delicate. It was unexpected, but not particularly unwelcome.

Carrie slaps me on the back, nudging me forward. “Go on ‘n talk t’ the nice mare. She don’t bite. That’s mah job.”

“Ow… alright.” I shift, feeling a slight pang in the impact zone of her hoof. That metal really hurts. I slowly approach the pegasus ghoul, sighing as I reach the counter. “Hi. You um… you seem… familiar somehow. Can I get your name?”

Her eyes shift, still crooked, but noticeably more focused on me. “I’m Ditzy Doo. Everypony calls me Derpy, though. And don’t worry, I know exactly who you are.” She pushes the tip of her hoof into my snout, giving me a warm smile. “Even if you don’t. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cake.”

For some odd reason, hearing this from her didn’t particularly alarm me. She felt friendly, more than that, like I’d somehow known her before. “Did… Carrie tell you about me?” Pushing her hoof down, I look back at her. The augmented alicorn seemed to be sorting through various bits and bobs on the shelves. Things Derpy had clearly laid out.

“Oh, her? No, we know each other because I’m a traveling merchant. She uh… pays me to bring her some high-potency chems.” She sighs, “But… that’s not important! Can I get a good look at you, sweetheart?”

I look back at Derpy, getting a little closer to the counter. “I… I guess?”

She cups a hoof under my chin, carefully, looking me over. “You look just like him, you know? I can see it in your eyes. I can see behind them, too…” She gives me a careful smile, “you’re looking for him, aren’t you?”

“I… yes?” I didn’t really understand what she was saying, but I could piece together what she was asking. “Do you know where he is?”

“That’s a tough question to answer, muffin!” She rubs my cheek, then withdraws her hoof. “But, I doooo know where you can look to find him.” She pulls out two small, golden, what look to be business cards or tickets, and lays them before me. “In the old center district of the Empire, there’s an underground club. On the night of Hearth’s Warming Eve, a show is meant to be going on there. There’s gonna be a pony there. You’ll know her when you see her.”

I take the tickets, nodding and tucking them into my suit. “Uh… thanks. Shit, okay, I’d better get some kind of prep done then. Do you have any holobooks on Magic Theory?”

“Gimme that dingy old rifle and I’ll take a look!” She holds out her hooves to receive it. I hand it over without a shred of hesitation, and she lobs it under the counter. Afterwards, she sorts through an unzipping portfolio full of holotapes. Humming all the while. She picks a few, and lays them out on the counter. “That all for you, muffin?”

“Should be!” I take the tapes and stuff them in my saddle bags.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She smacks herself on the head with a hoof, before going behind the counter once again. She retrieves a long, soft case of some kind, with a strap on the top. “Don’t open this until right before you go to the club. It’s your Hearth’s Warming gift!”

“Um… o-kay…” I take the case and sling it over my body.

Carrie approaches, sort of pushing me aside. Oddly gentle about it. “Hey filly, y’got what Ah asked for?”

The gray mare gives a somewhat displeased glance, her crossed eyes shifting worriedly. “Yes, Carrie, I got your special batch.” Sighing, she reaches under the counter. Pulling up a leather sack with her teeth, she sets it on the wood between us. “This formula is more potent than most, so try to only use it when you know you’ll be a few days without something.”

Carrie pulls out her caps pouch, handing it over. I caught something in her eyes. Disgust? Self-Loathing. It completely overrides the big, rotten smile on her face. That lack of light, it struck something deep inside me. “Thanks, Derpy.” Her voice seems… droopy. Melancholic. Like her singing.

“You’re welcome, sugar.” She pats one of Carrie’s metal hooves. I watch as Carrie takes her supplies, and leaves swiftly. She barely waits for me outside. I let out a sigh, adjusting my “Hearth’s Warming gift” over my body, and making for the door. “Hey, Cake?” Derpy calls for me.

I look over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“When you find Tex. Can you tell him I said hi? I miss him. I miss him a lot.” I did know her. And she knew me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours of swimming through ice-cold water piping. I eventually found myself under a maintenance hole. A drain cover. Like a gigantic iron coin. I slam my hoof against the underside, sending the massive piece of steel high into the air. I was out of the tunnel. I was in the Crystal Empire. I had to be. My mood skyrocketed, and I started climbing out of the hole, turning the snow under me into slush. As my mane dropped in front of my face, I felt something cold press against my forehead. A gun barrel. “Uncover yourself.” Son of a bitch. I spit my rebreather onto the ground and use a hoof to move my mane from my face. Glancing up, I get a visual. A crystal guard. A unicorn of gleaming gemstone, clad in pyrite-esque armor plates. He wielded a spear that split into a gun barrel. “Declare yourself a Raider or visitor. Choose wisely.”

Damnit. Of course the Stranger puts me in this position. Another test, no doubt. But I can pass this one. This is the question I’ve asked myself my whole life. I stare the stallion down, feeling my heart leap into my throat. I slowly shake my head. “I’m no Raider, sir.”Another guard offers him an odd looking tool, but he waves it away. Pulling his spear back, he offers me a hoof. He smiles. A real smile. Kindness I’ve only seen twice before. My mother, and Cake. “Welcome to the Crystal Empire, son. Make yourself at home.”

“Shit.” Carrie clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Of all fuckin’ clans t’run into. Had t’be the rivals of the Rusteaters.”

“Yes ma’am.” Prim replies. “They got a lock on the hospital exterior. There’s no way in hell we can take them all on. We’d be better to go around. It’ll cost us a week’s time, cutting through the gorge the long way. But… we wouldn’t die.”

I shake my head. “No, we don’t have time for that! We have to go through.” Blurting out, I catch Prim and Carrie’s attention.

The faux alicorn runs her tongue along her teeth, thinking for a moment. “Ah can take ‘em. Easy. Hunt like me? They’d chase like thirsty predators at the drop of a hat. Takin’ me down is braggin’ rights.” She snaps her claws, giving a devious smile. “Only they ain’t. Ah’ll slaughter ‘em all. Y’all can cut through the hospital, Ah’ll meet y’all on the other side.”

Prim gives it thought, then looks at the rest of us. “Shit, that’s the best case we got for going through. There’ll be ponies on the inside for sure, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“What the hell are they doing around a hospital, anyway? Surely the place has been picked clean, and there’s way better buildings to set up fortifications.” I shake my head, raising a brow.

Offering her sniper, Prim points down at the crowd of ponies. “Give them a look and you’ll understand.” I do as she says, taking a good gander down the scope. The rifle is heavy, so it takes me a second to stabilize. Letting out a wheezy, aching cough, I stare the ponies down.

They were all wearing mismatching sets of medical grade sanitation gear with impromptu armor layered on top. Gas masks, hazmat suits, bands of yellow and red tape wrapped around their bodies to distinguish their ranks, it looked like. But the weird thing was that despite the gear they wore, they were extraordinarily filthy. Caked in blood, muck, rot, and Celestia knows what else. Eyes bloodshot, pupils shrunken, teeth so decayed they were nearly blackened. They were all noticeably twitchy, antsy, wielding brutal weapons with serrated, rusted blades. Some of them even had old needles pierced through their skin like jewelry. “Ugh…” I recoil away from the scope, shaking my head. “I can practically fucking smell them from here.”

“Yeup.” Prim takes her rifle back, slinging it over herself. “These guys make Fiends look like clean freaks. They make abandoned industries their home. Usually anything that has a distinct rot.” She explains, tapping her nose. “Anything where the stench of decay and necrosis emanates. Meat packing plants, hospitals, seafood stores, and mortuaries. Most of them have maggots eating their pustule-pocked flesh and prions eating their drug-fried brains.”

Carrie sticks her tongue out, gagging slightly. For once, she’s not drooling. “Ah wouldn’t even touch these fellas with a ten hoof pole.”

“Wow, the cannibal has standards.” Willow makes a smarmy remark. “She’s right though, these guys are disgusting. I’ve killed Ferals with better dental hygiene.”

Groaning, I check my revolver. Full six shots, plus eleven additional rounds that Fizzle managed to scavenge. If she was good at anything out here, it was finding things in places you’d never expect. “Alright. You’re all on me then, Carrie, draw their attention and I’ll take point.”

“Sardine takin’ charge. Ah like it.” Unfurling her wings, her back straightens out and she stands on her hind legs. “Y’all be careful now. ‘Specially you, Fizzle. Ah don’t think yer immune system is as good as theirs.” And without any further delay, she bolts up into the sky, booming towards the hospital.

I fall in with everypony else. Prim on my left, Willow on my right, guarding Fizzle in the rear. Admittedly, she was the biggest target, and our pack mule for the time being. I didn’t like calling her that, but she dedicated herself to it. Good for her I guess. I draw my revolver with my magic, getting ready as we rush the front. The sound of gunshots and laser weapons mask our galloping across the snowy pavement. Carrie does an excellent job grabbing their attention, slicing and blasting through them like a blender on puree. “IT’S THE PURIFIER! BRING THE WICKED BITCH DOWN!” I hear one of the Rot-Meat captains bark.

As we approach the front doors, I switch off the safety on my clunky scrap revolver. Taking aim at a Raider, I try my best to run and shoot. C’mon. You’ve seen Prim work. Pick it up. The first shot misses, getting his attention. But the second? It nails him straight through the throat. Dark, half-coagulated blood sprays on the window of the hospital behind him. Clutching his throat and drowning in his own blood, he falls onto the ground, twitching. “Fuckin’ A! Turns out you can hit something.” Prim runs up to the doors, bashing them open with the butt of her rifle. Willow secures the door once we’re inside, wrapping the handles with chains.

The inside was dark. Pitch black. No light to speak of except the wisps of pathetic, dull sun that leaked in through the cloudy yellow windows. However, it was noticeably warmer inside. I pulled down my hood, clicking the clasp on the bandolier I wore under my layers of cold protection. Disrobing myself, I tossed the heavy fabrics into Fizzle’s pack. “Hold onto this. I have a feeling I need to move lightly.” I kept my voice down, patting the pink pony on the back. Prim clicked on her lamp, glancing around with a furrowed brow. A sense of dread filled all of us, the fighting on the exterior now sounded distant. Something was wrong with this place. Very wrong. “Willow, stick with me. Prim, take Fizzle through the east half of the building.” I point to my right. “We’ll cover more ground for supply scavenging that way.”

“Shit. You got it ‘boss’.” Prim replies with a healthy heap of snark. Then, she starts blowing a bubble.

“Prim, don’t-!” Fizzle raises a hoof, trying to stop her. It’s too late.

The bubble pops, the normally quiet snap of the gum sounds immensely amplified in these halls. The crack echoes through the building, reverberating off the wallpaper-peeled walls. Then, something moves. None of us, something else. We check around rapidly, the others using their flashlights, finding only turned over gurneys, broken drip stands, and cracked payphones. I could feel my heart in my throat. Something slithered in the darkness. I saw it. “Fuck… whoever, or… whatever is in here… now it knows we are too.”

“Spit out the gum before you get us killed!” Willow whispers through clenched teeth.

Taking point to the east with Fizzle, Prim keeps her rifle ready. “Good luck you two. We’re getting the fuck outta here.”

“Damnit…” I sigh, looking at Willow, “c’mon. We’d better make distance, and quickly. There’s something in here. I can feel it.”

This complex was massive. And it reeked. Skeletons littered the floor, half-mummified corpses strewn about every room. Most of which seemed more recent than others, with their guts burst open. From the inside. Holding my breath wasn’t really an option, I just had to take the rot head on. Sweet fucking Celestia how I’d need a shower after this. The movements in the walls never ceased. Something was stalking us. Restless. Hungry. “You hear it too, don’t you, honey?” Willow catches my attention, keeping close to my side. “The squirming.”

“You know what it is?” I flick the barrel of my pistol around, checking my corners.

“Not the slightest idea, sweetheart.” The witch replies. “Stick close. I know you don’t need a flashlight to see, but I don’t have that luxury.”

I let out a wheezy chuckle, trying to keep it from developing into a loud cough. It’s hard, but I manage. “Thought we were both blessed by the Shadows?”

The unicorn smirks, “I make my own blessings, Cake.”

I push through a set of doors leading straight to an open physical therapy area. At least, that’s what I garnered from the track painted on the floor. In the center stood a single figure, lit by one flickering fluorescent bulb. A mare, I think, standing on her hind legs. An earth pony. Her braided yellow mane is decorated with bones, the faceplate of a skull strapped over the top half of her face with leather strips. Her greasy, dirt-darkened slate coat is bound with massive amounts of hazmat tape. A set of oxygen tanks are strapped to her back, connected to a nasal cannula. Her chest is void of any skin. What looks like a fiberglass case is held in place over her exposed ribs. I can see her rotten heart beating behind her black lungs. A metal tube in her throat, massive, thick staples up her belly. Her mouth was carved into a permanent chelsea grin, eyes protected behind yellow safety goggles.

I didn’t know whether she was alive or some kind of undead. Whatever she was, it sent a chill through my bones. I could hear her wheezy, manic breathing. “Hello, meat…~” she unholsters a massive revolver. Polished, a wooden hoof-grip. A hoof cannon. In her other hoof, she unsheathes a rusted gut knife, reverse-gripping it. “You’re just in time to play!” Her voice was disgusting and gurgly, like she was suffocating in her own spit. “I’ve been needing new brood hosts for my pets. You’ll make do, little filly.” Her gory smile somehow gets wider, squinting her eyes as she points the knife at me.

Letting out a wheezy cough, I step forward. Lights around the room flicker, revealing what must be a dozen other ponies. No. Not ponies. Monstrosities. Twitchy, shambling abominations. I see a few open their mouths, heads splitting open, revealing flowering razor-maws lined with teeth, slimy tendrils snaking out. Licking at the air. “Willow, can you handle these things?” I glance over my shoulder, watching the witch take a low bipedal stance. A weapon made of pure darkness forms in her hooves. A grand scythe of bending void energy.

“You take care of Queen Cunt. I’ll butcher the beasts.” She takes a position behind me. “Holler if you need me.”

Spinning the chamber on my revolver, I swallow my nerves. I drew my knife, standing on my hind legs like the other two ponies. My stature was significantly less intimidating, my posture was poor, and my balance could use some work. But I’d learn. Or I’d die trying. “Alright you filthy whore, let’s see how brittle those rotten bones are.”

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Every part of me was shaking. I could barely keep in step with Prim, who was leading me down a massive corridor. My flashlight was jiggling in my jittering jaw. She held her rifle at the ready, creeping slowly across the cracked hospital tiles. “Think Cake and Willow are making it through alright?” She asks, glancing back at me. I shrug, unable to give a concise or audible answer with the light in my teeth. We approach a set of heavy doors, which open up into some kind of mess hall. It’s huge, filled with tipped-over tables and broken benches. The windows in here are much larger, allowing light from outside to seep in. No longer just the dusken daylight of the winter storm. A scarlet blaze, licking at the sides of the building, magical flame that dares not destroy the hospital. It’s Carrie’s. I know it is.

With all the extra red light, it makes it pretty easy to see in here. A good thing, I’m not exactly sure. There was somepony on the other side of the mess hall. They stood their ground, their head angled toward the floor, dark mane covering their face. They were… dripping? The pony waved back and forth, like tall grass on a windy plateau. Like they were in a trance. They looked up slightly. A yellow iris with a shrunken slit pupil stared me down. This indescribable feeling of disturbance rippled through my whole body. The shakes ceased, my jaw went slightly slack, no longer locked. The flashlight I once held fell from my teeth. The lens cracked as the metal body struck the floor, the beam pointed off in a dark corner of the room. It flickered. There were other ponies in here. No. They weren’t ponies. Not quite. Something was uncanny about them. Something was off.

I found myself completely frozen. Unable to speak. Unable to move. Unable to think. “WATCH YOURSELF!” Prim bashes me aside. I couldn’t even see what happened. I had blinked and suddenly I was surrounded by dozens of twitchy, filthy ponies. The one who had stared me down had gotten too close. It lets out a horrific, skull-grating screech. Its snout flowers open. Massive, tooth-lined tentacles spill out from its gashed face like spaghetti popped out of a plastic bag. Prim goes in for a swing with the butt of her gun, but misses. A trio of its tendrils wrap around Prim’s hind legs, whipping her around like a ragdoll. It pelts her across the room, the earth pony bouncing off the tile floor like a rubber ball. She smacks into the kitchen, pots and pans loudly clattering with her landing.

The other beasts rushed to finish her off, if she wasn’t dead already. That just left me with the horde coordinator. I had never fought anything before. Anypony. Let alone a… fucking demon. Whatever this thing was. I back away, scrambling for some kind of weapon. A piece of one of the benches, a metal rod, rusted and sharp on one end. I stand on my hind legs, huffing, feeling like I was about to puke. I had seen everypony else kill something before. But me? I wasn’t strong enough for this. I was a fucking model pony. The hardest times I ever faced before this was the ad campaign for fucking Sparkle-Cola Quartz. “Stay back you son of a bitch! Or- or I swear to Celestia I’ll… I’ll cut your damn head off!”

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This slimy hag was a lot faster than I anticipated at first. Her stench was killer, nauseating, more of a distraction tactic mid-fight than anything else. I was running on empty, as far as my magic goes, so unfortunately I couldn’t just blast her into smithereens or teleport and fry her brain. I had to do this the hard way. Yay me.

The height difference was at least working somewhat in my favor. I did my best to dodge each swing, her crusted blade just narrowly missing my flesh. A few tufts of my coat had been shaved down, skin hot with the fear of being caught. “Pretty little filly! What lovely eyes you have! Beautiful gorgeous eyes!” The hag laughs, stabbing straight for my belly. My serrated knife catches the cannon of her foreleg in a block, peeling away a bit of the rotten flesh as she tries to stab closer. “I’ll scoop your eyes out and eat them!”

“You’ll… nngh! Do no such thing, you fucking freak!” I rip my knife away, chopping at her throat. I dent the metal pipe in her esophagus, and she recoils, giving me a moment to recover.

“CAKE, ON YOUR RIGHT!” I hear Willow shout. Without even thinking, I draw my revolver, quickfiring from the hip. I get lucky, blasting the face straight off one of those nasty abominations. As its corpse flies past me, its black blood sprays over my face, and a trail of disgusting, rosy-colored gas plumes from its open neck. I get a strong whiff of the gas, my stomach immediately twisting in on itself. It was putrid, dizzying. I felt like I was gonna puke. “Try not to- rgh!” She slices a pair of beasts straight in half with her magical weapon, “Don’t breathe in the gas!”

“Noted.” I gag.

Suddenly, a metal tube hits me in the side of the head, knocking me straight onto my face. My skull reverberates, ringing like a church bell, my ears full of screeching pressure. “Eyes on me, incubator!” The leper mare laughs, dropping the pipe off to her right.

“Oh… god… damnit.” The whole world was doubled over, blurred. I definitely had a concussion. I could feel hot blood rolling down the left side of my face, dripping onto the floor. I grabbed my knife, and remembered. I have a tool she would never expect. Especially in this dull light. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch her raise her gut blade to stab down at me. I reach back onto my right side. My belt line. The Stealth-Buck. Twisting the dial at the top, I feel it whirr and jolt to life. And within a second, my entire body goes completely transparent.

“Wh-? What the fuck?!” The mare confusedly whips her head around, sniffing at the air. “I can still smell you!”

I let out an exhausted chuckle, standing and throwing my right forehoof straight at her snout as hard as I can. I feel the bone under her thin, decaying skin break like peanut brittle. Coagulated blood spurts out like a squeezed ketchup packet, getting on my suit. I watch as she stumbles back, holding her shattered nose. “So sure about that now, you stupid bitch?!” Taunting her, I slash at her hind left knee, feeling the crooked serrations on my knife rip through her flesh like tissue paper. She drops onto one leg, huffing, clearly fighting through the fragile balance of her necrotic body. I raise my knife over my head, two-hoofed reverse grip. Standing behind her, I aim straight for her skull. “I’m gonna split your head open like a fucking watermelon, you filthy witch!”

As the knife falls, she puts up both of her forelegs, catching the cannons of my arms. It stops the point of the blade just before it enters her skull. A lot stronger than I expected. She pulls me over herself, slamming my spine onto the floor and knocking the knife from my hooves. My Stealth-Buck deactivated, leaving me dazed and exposed. “I still got three other senses, Sardine!” She comes down with her knife towards my throat. I do the only thing I can think of, raising my left forehoof to catch the weapon. I succeeded. To mixed results.

The rusted gut-knife stabs straight through the frog of my hoof, spraying my own blood into my face. Agony shot through my leg like fire, lighting my nerves. I let out a tearful cry of pain, using my other hoof to hold it steady. I could feel her twisting the knife in my flesh, my meat squelching as the rusted teeth scraped against the bone inside. “FUCK! AGH!”

“CAKE!” I hear Willow panic, trying to come to assist. Unfortunately, the mutants were swarming her, trying to corner her, away from me. “I’M COMING, HONEY!”

“DON’T!” I wail, watching as the zombie-like mare retrieves another knife. She whips it straight at my face, and I catch her cannon with my right hoof. She pins my left hoof away, on top of me, using her weight to keep me trapped. Her blood was dripping down on me like the drool of a yao guai, her nasty flesh dripping with anticipatory pus and snot. The knife got closer to my face, my right cheek, my strength faltering. “I-… AGH! GOT THIS!” I had to do this. I had to win. I wasn’t going to let this nasty bitch kill me.

She lets out a wheezy laugh, her split tongue hanging from between black teeth. “Your meat is so tender. I can’t wait to let it ferment once my babies fill you with their eggs.” The tip of the blade pushed right through my skin, getting caught in my teeth, trying to pry through. I could taste the rust, feel it grinding against the enamel of my premolars, pushing them away slowly.

I was empty. I had no magic left. Nothing to use to get away. Not even enough for telekinesis. There had to be something. Some inkling of magic somewhere. I closed my eyes, trying to feel it. Hear it. Smell it. Please, Celestia, don’t let me fucking die like this. I grit my teeth, feeling my jaw clench. Then, it hit me.

Beyond the odor of the Rot-Meat pony’s stench, I caught wind of something. That odd, sweet scent I got a hint of in the Blackwater. Life. Spirit. Magic burned into the meat and bones of the pony in front of me. See it. It was filthy. A triple helix of blackened energy. Body, Soul, Arcane. I could pluck any which one of them to draw from. Feel it. I had to drain her strength. That earth pony vitality smelled potent. The black Arcane strand. It would be exactly what I needed. Eat it.

I felt my magic hook through hers, and I pulled. Taking a deep breath, I saw a dirty blue mist leak from her nose and mouth. I sucked it into my lungs, taking it in like a years-experienced smoker, desperate for every huff I could take. It saturated my muscle fibers, my body swelling with her strength. Siphoned from her like a leech. My brain pulsed with what I could only describe as a high. Stronger than alcohol, than painkillers, than any drug I know. Pure euphoria. Giddy, light headed, warm. Completely ignorant of my burning muscles and my dividing flesh.

Slamming my head against hers, I pierced her left eye with my horn, shattering her goggles and making her recoil. She hissed, crawling away from me as she held her pierced eye. “FUCK! HOW?! WHAT IS THIS?!”

Slowly getting up, I pull the knife out of my cheek, tossing it on the floor. Then, I wrench the other blade out of my left hoof, stumbling towards the hag. A second wind. “Don’t… fucking underestimate a Sardine. You… SLIMY CUNT!” I grab her mane, my knife zipping towards my right hoof. As I catch it, I stab the serrated blade straight through her chest, puncturing her lungs. She sputters, but I don’t leave a second for her to recover. Keeping hold of her scalp, greasy mane wrapped around my hoof, I scream right in her face, stabbing the saw-toothed tool straight through the bottom of her jaw. The tip pierces up through the other side of her skull. She gurgles, lobotomized. Then, I pull, wrestling the knife out and splitting her skull in two. Her limp body falls to the floor, maggot-infested brain spilling on the rotted tiles.

Turning around, I face Willow, who’s covered in all kinds of bruises, cuts, and guts. She’s huffing, using her magical scythe as a crutch. “Fuck… this mess. I hope to sweet hell the other two make out better than us.”

Panting and huffing, my whole body rushed with adrenaline. Tearing off my left suit sleeve, I strip it into long binds with my teeth. I take out my canteen, dousing my wounded hoof in alcohol, then wrap the cloth around my leg. I only used enough of my magic to staunch most of the bleeding. I couldn’t afford to fully regenerate. Stitches would have to suffice later. “Yeah… hooves crossed. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Hey.” She catches me before I turn back around, holding out a hoof. “I don’t know how you managed to do that, but… good job. I’m proud of you.” That was a lie. She knows exactly how I did that. I could tell by the shaking of her eyes. She saw it. It was a conversation for later. I grab the dead hag’s revolver. It was far heavier, and presumably more powerful than my own. Pulling the cylinder release, I saw the internal mechanisms. Five shots. .460 magnum, about three hundred grain. Far, far stronger than my dinky six shooter. I stole her holster and a pouch full of ammo. It’s mine now. My reward for taking the bitch out myself.

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I swing the metal pole at the beast wildly, trying to keep it back. I glanced over where Prim was, hoping to Celestia that she was still alive somehow. Letting out a yelp, I smack the demon straight across the face with the pipe, watching as a few teeth dislodge. It stays still for a moment, almost as if it were in shock that I actually managed to hit it. However, its head snaps back to stare me down. It gags, a shudder running through its whole body. Then, as its body loudly pops and twitches, it stands on its hind legs. Long, spindly, fragile looking frame towering over me. Its head falls back, forehooves splitting into a trio of flexible, clawed appendages. Its lower mandible splits, following a seam down its throat, ribs, and belly. Black bile spills onto the floor as the seam splits open.

It had no entrails. No bones. No heart. No recognizable internal anatomy that any creature on this planet should have. Just teeth, tendrils, and eyes. A thick, odorous pink gas radiated from its innards. It made me nauseated, feeling my stomach twist into knots. If I wasn’t trembling before, I was on the verge of fainting and seizing now. This is singlehoofedly the most horrific thing I’d ever seen. A single massive tendril reels back, poised to strike, aimed straight for my guts. I was paralyzed, watching as the length of twisted flesh sped directly towards me. Oh sweet fucking Celestia, I hope it’s quick.

A shot echoes through the cafeteria. The tentacle squirms as it was blasted in half by the bullet. I look over at Prim, covered in blood, knives lodged in her shoulders. “Fucking… RUN!” She huffs, racking another shot for her rifle. I took her advice.

Bolting across the room, I slither past the massive monster. I feel its tendrils whip at my legs, trying desperately to make distance. Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe I’d run into Cake and Willow. Hell, maybe Carrie would hear my panic and come to my aid. Forget relying on chances. I had to fucking pray it would happen.

Bursting out of the cafeteria, I gallop across the disgusting tiles. I feel brittle bones crunch under my hooves as I go as fast as I can possibly manage. My legs were starting to burn, and I was starting to wheeze. My hoof placements were becoming less steady, my lungs tightening. I was not built for this at all. However, I was getting close to the end of the Hospital. I could see it.

Thorned, fleshy tentacles snatched my hind legs. I tripped, straight onto my face, feeling an old bone cut my snout open. “AGH!” The hooks in the meat tendrils sunk further into my legs, ripping my fat and muscle fibers open as it dragged me backwards across the filthy floor. Blood smeared across my face as the gash on my bridge spurted with my heartbeat.

“Little pony… help… me.” I could hear a warbled, shaky voice emanate from the source of the limbs. “My baby?! Where. Where is my baby?!” It screeched, reeling me in closer as I tried desperately to sink my hooves into a hold. I couldn’t find anything stable. As it flipped me onto my back, yanking me closer, I grabbed an old, yellowed skull. I was panicking. I was going to die. “Help… me?” I could see its dozen back-lit eyes in the darkness, staring at me like stars in the sky. It was mocking me. I heard hoofsteps in the hall.

Smashing the skull against the mass of writhing flesh, fragments sprayed everywhere. It hissed like a burst water heater, using additional tendrils to hold me down. Wrapped around my forelegs, neck, and chest. It ripped the cloth away from my belly, saliva dripping on my fur. I was beginning to sob, cry uncontrollably. I was going to die. “PRIM! HELP! SOMEPONY! PLEASE!” I screamed, trying desperately to wiggle free. It reared a thick, translucent tentacle above my gut, the end twitching in anticipation. I could see it in the dull light. The hoofsteps got louder. “HEEEELP! PLEASE HELP! I DON’T WANNA DIE!”

And then, a shimmer. Something bending the light around the area above my head. A deafening gunshot. Two. Three. Four. Five. I watched the monster get blown back. Dark liquid sprayed on the walls and tiny windows as its brains and guts were blasted from it in smithereens. Pink gas leaked from its now fallen body, the scent sickly sweet. Bile pooled around it, the beast finally dead. I stayed on the floor, rattling like a snake’s tail. Then, the distorted light went away, revealing my savior.

It wasn’t Prim at all. It was Cake. She huffs, opening the cylinder of a new revolver, spilling the hot brass into a padded pocket on her bandolier. To be reused later. She loaded another five shots into the massive hoof cannon. It looked completely disproportionate in her small hooves. Like a filly trying to pull a plow. Tucking the gun away in a scavenged holster, she turns around, offering me a hoof. She didn’t look so good either. A gash in her cheek, a wound on the side of her head, and blood-soaked wrappings around the hoof she offered. “Tried to get here as fast as I could. Sorry to make you wait.”

I took her hoof, standing and hugging her as tight as I could, tears still raining down my face. “Thank you so fucking much… oh, Celestia, oh fuck…” I shook as I squeezed her, trying to calm down.

She grunts, patting me on my back, as best as she can reach. “Mmm… eyup. No… problem. Where’s… where’s Prim?” Cake cocks a brow, pulling back.

“Right here.” Her voice echoes down the hallway. Standing in the corridor behind us is the courier, covered in blood from head to hoof. She yanks another knife out of her shoulder, throwing it on the floor. “Thanks for coming back for me.”

“I… she just saved me, I- I didn’t.” I stumble over my words.

“You seem to have made due just fine, Courier.” Willow spits. “I’m sure you’ve handled worse.” Her snide, defensive tone silenced the other earth pony, her scarlet eyes focused completely on the mercenary.

Cake taps me on the cheek, taking a few pads and cleaning the blood away on my snout. “Damn. He got you good. There goes that made-for-tv face.” She smirks, trying to play it off.

I snicker. “Says you, Miss Tongue-In-Cheek.” I tap under her jaw.

“Oh, you wanna bet I can stick it straight through?” She turns to the exit, wiping away some blood from her face.

“Ew!” Laughing at the reply, I shake my head. “That’s so gross. I’m surprised you’re not coughing or worse. Did you find some rads?”

The petite unicorn takes a minute to answer, glancing at Willow. She shares a similarly curious look, but a little bit more concerned than my own. Like she knew it was strange. Stranger than what I’d known. Sighing, Cake shrugs. “I’m not limited to absorbing radiation. Thought I was, but… now I know that’s not the case. It can be any kind of magic. I just… happened to pull it directly from the body of a pony. Kind of like what Willow does. Except she siphons excess euphoria. I… leeched the magic straight from an earth pony. Strength and all.”

My eyes widened, and I glanced at Willow. She seemed offput, to say the least. Somepony as old as her, I’m sure she has some parental concerns about somepony so young. “So… you’re like, a magic vampire?”

“That was a last resort.” She shakes her head. “As… lovely as the feeling was, I shouldn’t make a habit of it. It’d make me no better than the savages out here. But now that I did that, I can feel the magic in everything. No matter how miniscule. This area is pretty scrubbed. Save for what awaits us out back…” Opening the exit, we’re given quite the show.

Carrie, steel drum in her lap, sits in front of a massive pile of corpses. A crimson flame burns to the clouds. A veritable pyre of maggot infested cadavers. Black blood is caked around her muzzle, down her neck and on her chest. Her steel fingers strum at the metal strings, the pony humming, eyes closed. A massive, eerie, sharp-toothed grin is spread from ear to ear across her face. This song she’s playing. It’s practiced. Something she’s heard before. Something she’s played many a time. And it’s no wonder why. The strings reverberate with dark love. Saturated with a bloodlust comparable only to obsession. Her voice is gentle. 

See a streak cross the sky

Breakin’ them clouds deep at night

The scarlet seam that harbors death

Crimson rain here at last.

Red Shroud an’ Black Breath

The Redline come to say.

Light ablaze an’ rivers flood

The Redline here to stay.

Bones break an’ children cry

The Redline darkens day.

A pale pony drags mortality along

Cursed to drone a life wit’ no worth.

Ain’t a soul in that metal

Ain’t a heart in that flesh

Ain’t no mother to love you

A pity you ain’t dead.

She holds the strings down as she finishes, opening her eyes. Slinging the guitar over her back, she snaps her claws at a set of vehicles. “We got one jeep. Room enough fer all of us.” Looking over us, she whistles, shaking her head. “Sweet Luna, y’all are gonna need time to recover.”

“We got a car…” Cake limps towards it, shaking her head, “we’ll find a place to hunker down in for a few weeks.”

Willow follows, and I soon behind. “There’s one last little town before Cantertine. Snomelt. A little post-war village near Luna Bay. We’ll rest up there. Get our strength back. Then… Winter should pass.”

I found a few issues of that same run right here in this comic shop. That and a few of another comic she liked; Nelly Noire, a comic set in a world of black and white, where it always rained and everypony smoked cigarettes. It was inspired by what she called “Pulp Era Narrativism and Pre-Matriarchal Nationalistic Idealism”. I have no clue what those words mean, but I assume that means she finds them interesting. I stuffed them into the storage compartment of my chestplate, along with my alcohol and stimulants.

“Didn’t figure you for a reader, son.” Stranger’s voice calls from behind me, snapping my attention to him.

My ears prick up, “Oh, uh, I’m not, really. I can read. Normally don’t. But Cake likes these comics.” I pull out an issue of Six Spinner, holding it out. “Wanted to see what all the hubbub was about, and… y’know, eventually give them to her when we see each other again.”

Leaning against a board game shelf, he takes the comic, looking at the cover. “Six Spinner, eh?” He flips through, letting out a wheezy chuckle as he analyzes the pages. “Time-Hoppin’ gunslinger. What a novel concept.”

“She said that one’s her favorite. She really likes the main character, Deft Chambers.” I point at the page. A silvery stallion with piercing yellow eyes, dressed in worn, brown old leathers. A huge duster cloaked him, making his shooting style, an odd under-hoof hammer-fan, even flashier. “He seems really cool from the illustrations alone, I’m hoping he lives up to the praise.”

Licking his shadowy hoof, Stranger continues reading. “Hm. Me too.” He shuts it, offering it back. “Ah’m sure she’ll love it, son.”

Stuffing it back in my chestplate, I move to the counter of the shop, peering over. There was a mare here a second ago. Lo and behold, she’s cowering behind the cash register, laying on her back, legs curled up as she quaked. “Uh, miss? How much are the comics?”

“Y-you can have them! Just… p-please don’t hurt me…” she covers her face, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

I cock my head, squinting with my only eye. “Ma’am, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m just passing through to the Tunnels.”

“You’re not with them…?” She finally looks at me, “oh, thank Celestia!!” She hops up, grabbing my shoulders, “Please, I have no idea who you are, but you have to help us! There’s a legion of Gorehawks barricading the Tunnels! Trade’s been cut off with the Empire, we can’t get our shipments until it’s clear.”

I gently pull her away, nodding, looking back to Stranger, “We-“ he’s gone. “Mmm.” I look at the mare once more, “I’ll take care of it, miss, on my honor.”

“Thank you! Thank you, sweet Celestia, thank you!” She collapses, nearly crying from relief. “Take anything you need from the meds baskets, just please kill them!”

Don’t need to ask me twice. I raided her meds, taking what drugs I could hold. Stampede and Buck. My favorite. I loaded them into a set of injectors I had my sages line my chestplate with. The needles sat just above my skin, with a bang on the sides of my chest, they’d trigger, emptying the contents and ejecting the syringes. I placed my helmet over my head, making a beeline for the Tunnels. It was an old freightway rail entrance, surrounded by barbed wire fences and metal walls made out of tank parts. Gorehawks love a bloody melee encounter. They were always my favorite to fight, because they never actually think.

Marching up to the gate, I stare down the front doors. A bunker door lined with tank treads. The Gorehawks didn’t make this base. Somepony else did, which meant I wasn’t just going to fight brainless Fiends. Whatever. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I stand on my hind legs just outside the emplacement, cocking my head to the side. No hollering, as of yet. Hiding? That’s not very typical of them. “Where’s all the enforcement??” I call out, opening my forelegs, a challenge. “I thought you fellas were Gorehawks, not sewer rats.”

The gates slide open, revealing not just Gorehawks, but super mutants. Something was going on here. Something I couldn’t quite name, but there was something bad happening. A brutish green mutant stepped forward, baring sharp teeth, chains wrapped over his chest like armor. He was dressed in pauldrons made of tire scraps and nine inch nails. “Mint pony!” He points at me with a gnarled hoof. “Master want you!”

Rolling my neck, I smirk. “Maybe this actually will be a challenge. How refreshing!” I slam on the sides of my chestplate, engaging the injectors in my armor. The drugs flood my system, the syringes ejecting out the sides like freshly emptied stripper clips. First came the rush. My whole nervous system burning like I’d just been set aflame. Then came the brainfog. Complete nullification of any logic, the absence of empathy and mercy. Finally, the roll. A full-body wave of pure strength.

They rushed me. Raiders swarming in front of me in an attempt to eliminate me. Quite frankly, it was adorable. Through the blood-haze I swung, crimson splashing against my face as I cleaved through ponies like a hot knife through butter. Zero resistance. The segmented blades on my gauntlets were soaked black with gore, the collaborative raiders absolutely no match for my wrath. A good warm-up no doubt. I needed it, because then came the super mutants.

A green pegasus tackled into me, sending me soaring backwards and crashing through a pair of battlements. The pain was numbed, but I could still feel the damage it caused. Mostly to my armor, little else. “Minty pony perfect plaything!” An earth pony rushed me with a super sledge. The miniature engine on the back spit a jet of flame as it propelled the head forwards. I swerved out of the way, if only by a hair. I slashed the mutant’s hind leg, making it buckle under his unbalanced weight. I heard another coming from behind me. Digging my blades into the chest of the sledge-wielding mutant, I spun around, using him as an equine shield. I braced.

A blade ran straight through his spine, stopping just millimeters before striking my belly. I heard the other mutant struggle, the blade was stuck. Letting out a roar, I pushed as hard as I could, ramming the sword-wielded into a spike-covered set of sandbags. Shredding his back as dozens of nails ran through his flesh, he wailed, getting paralyzed like a living pincushion. I tried to dislodge my gauntlets as I heard more on their way, but realized I suffered the same problem. “Gimme my blades, you twat!” I screamed, wrenching them out of his shoulders as I pushed both of my hind hooves against his chest. I could hear the thick, leathery, sinew-filled flesh crack and twist as I pulled as hard as I could.

I managed to pop free, soaring away from the pair and towards another mutant, wielding a Balefire mini-spell. I crashed into him, knocking the bomb out of his hooves and into the air. Managing to recover as quickly as one could, I caught it before it hit the ground. Whirling around, I threw it like a discus at the barricade. It whistled as it soared, before it finally struck the gate. It was the best I could manage.

A violent, blinding flash, before a shockwave blasts me back. I roll across the broken pavement, finally stopping as my spine practically wraps around a telephone pole, snapping the damn thing in half. Shrapnel from the explosion lands straight into my belly and left shoulder, leaving irradiated metal burning my gored flesh. “FUCK! AGH!” The drugs wear off at the worst possible moment, a sobering pain searing my nervous system. I try to crawl out from under the pole, but before I can, the mutants reach me.

“I told you, no bomb! Master want him whole, not gibs, smart-pants!” A mutant wielding an auto-rifle smacks the bomb holder upside the head. “He contaminated now. Nice going.” The mutants, and a few remaining Gunners surround me, lifting the pole off, keeping me at gunpoint. I couldn’t resist here. I had to play it safe. They fully had the advantage.

One of the Gunners chuckles, “So much for the so-called ‘King’, heheheh.”

“Boys, boys… please.” A voice echoes from the gate. From the source of the explosion, over the deafening roar of the emerald flames. All of their eyes turn away, giving me a moment to recover. To get ready. I keep my eye on the Balefire, just as confused as they are. A single figure slowly walks out from the fire, wreathed in shadow, completely unaffected by the blaze. Lifting his head slightly, he revealed a single eye, licks of the burning magic running down his cheek. “Let’s not do somethin’ y’all might regret, now.” It was the Stranger.

“Oh, fuck this! King’s all yours!” The Gunners immediately turned tail, galloping away in a full spring as quick as they could.

All that remained were Gorehawk stragglers and Super Mutants. The only two who would dare approach a pony as powerful as him. “Mint stallion ours.” The lead mutant snarled.

Standing on his hind legs in front of the flames, the stranger flicked his forelegs down at his sides. His tatted cloak rippled with the icy wind. He became near formless. A dark-shrouded menace. Death Incarnate. I couldn’t see his legs anymore, as if all of his features had become part of one amorphous silhouette. “Ya take one step, ya get an express ticket t’ Hell.”

A single step was all it took. A Gorehawk shifted his leg forwards, planting his hoof in the disturbed, snow-blown earth. Then, faster than I could even perceive, the Stranger shot. The gunshot was deafening, like a lightning striking the soil, thunder echoing through the valley. The Fiend’s head popped like a balloon, gory confetti spraying everywhere, skull shards raining down as his body went limp. Then, the rest charged the gunslinger. Him versus what must’ve been more than two dozen mutants and Fiends. Each gunshot was like the toll of a church bell, ringing out for the dead. He moved like a ghostly miasma, a dark mist declaring the end of life. He was swift, calculated, and completely silent. I saw a focus in his eyes that rivaled that of a sniper scope, a calm through his body like the open waters of the Luna Sea. It was magnificent. I was completely engrossed in his abilities, enamored by his skill. An angel from on high, just as the stories said.

“Chopper! Focus!” He calls out, and throws something high in the air. Something for me. Fighting the pain, I sprung up to my hind legs. I had to, for him. His aura granted me the strength to push beyond the searing agony.

I saw exactly what was coming down to me, a gleaming haft of metal with a crescent head. My eye widened, and I felt the weight smack into an open hoof. It’s my axe! He fixed it! But when? It didn’t matter. My weapon would find its thirst quenched once again. Taking my stance, I gripped the haft, speeding towards a mutant. The broad head was quickly buried in its leathery skin, blood spraying over my face. The sap, the fruit of its efforts. Welcome home, luv. Twisting the axe out of the pony’s guts, I felt the shaft click. I watched as the socket sparked, coils twisted around the base of the head beginning to glow. In seconds, the bit was white hot, screaming to fly through flesh and bone.

Rushing to assist the Stranger, I slid on my flank to chop at the cannons of a mutant. The cloaked reaper leapt over me, flipping like an elegant dancer. My blade cleaved through the mutant’s flesh like it was nothing. No resistance. “Check yer rear, big boy!” Stranger calls, and I keep a low center of gravity. He rolls over my back, blasting the head off the mutant I just debilitated. Switching sides, the shaft of my weapon catches the buzz-blade of a mutant. The chain snaps, blinding the beast and letting me go for a coup de grace. Beheaded, nice and easy. My horn sparks, and I hold out a foreleg for the Stranger.

“Captain, eight o’ clock.” I cover him, keeping a mutant wielding a power-hoof at bay. His foreleg stretches across my shoulders, and I feel the recoil of his gun vibrate against my neck. Even as loud as the blast is, it doesn’t affect me, and I’m not sure why.

“Nice catch. Watch yer head, boy.” He warns. I follow orders. Digging my axe into the spine of the power-hoof mutant, I cover myself with him, using him like a squirming shield.

In a flurry of rapid, graceful movements, the Stranger executes every last beast on the field. He moves at a speed which I can only perceive a ghostly green afterimage, black powder darkening the air around him. And as quickly as it started, it was all over. He stood still as a statue, awaiting me. Slumping the squirming mutant off my back, I gave him one last chop, splitting the monstrosity’s skull in two. Panting, I stood on my hind legs, wobbly and weak, still bleeding. Twisting my axe, it cooled down just as quick as it heated up. I hung it from the back of my chestplate, grunting and clutching the shrapnel in my gut. “Ah… bloody hell.”

Approaching, the Stranger helped me over to a set of sandbags, sitting me down. “Lemme take a look ‘atcha.” He reaches forward, pressing at my wounds to gauge the severity. “Y’handled yerself well out there, all things considered.” He starts pulling the shards from my flesh, tossing them over his back. I groan, my horn letting out jolts of energy in response. “Minor radioactive contamination. Some iodine oughta clear ya right up.” He offers a bottle of pills, continuing to patch me up.

Chuckling weakly, I shake out a few capsules, taking them dry, packing the bottle in my chestplate. “Thought you up and disappeared.”

“Was just gettin’ in a good ambush spot.” He uses a needle and thread to stitch me up, his hooves are more deft than one might think. Though, with the silk through my skin, I can feel slight, constant tugging. His hooves are shaking.

“You’re shaking… didn’t think you could.” I grunt, feeling him tie the stitches and cut them with his teeth.

He wheezes, coughing for a moment. “Tends t’happen when ya get to be mah age. Just need a cigarette, mah nerves’re fried.” He wraps bandages over the stitching, keeping them in place with a thick medical tape. “Should be good ‘til t’morrah.” Standing up, he looks to the tunnels. The fire’s cleared, only scorched metal remains. “That’ll take ya right into the Empire. There’s a side shaft that’s low profile. Right side o’ the tunnel, says ‘STORM RETENTION’ in big bold letters. It’ll be a long, wet way. But you got it.”

Slowly picking myself up from the ground, I huff. “You’re not coming with me?”

“Aww…” he turns around, lighting a cigarette hanging off his pale lips, “you gon’ miss me, baby boy?” He gives a sharp, smug grin.

“Alright, prick.” I chuckle, even if it hurts. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.” Sighing, I start making my way to the tunnel. “Will I see you on the other side?”

Puffing a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, he nods. “Sure as sugar will, buck.” Rummaging under his coat, he pulls something out. “Oh, an’ ‘fore Ah forget.” He tosses it to me, and I catch it in one hoof. Some sort of mouth piece. “Yer gonna need that t’get through the tunnel. Bite ‘n suck.”

Raising a brow at the device, I tuck it into my collar guard. “Normally I’m told not to use teeth.”

The Stranger lets out a long, wheezy laugh. “Don’t be gettin’ too intimate wit’ mah divin’ equipment now, buck.”

I glance back at him, “So where-?” And as quick as he saved me, he was gone. Not even a puff of smoke or a still-lit cigarette. Seems he made a habit of disappearing as quickly as any one pony could manage. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was some sort of wizard or time-traveler. It’s the only explanation for how one stallion could be in so many different places, all at the same time.

Alone again, I pushed forward beyond the heat-warped barricade. The town here was safe, and trade could continue, for what it was worth. The pain was starting to numb. Some painkillers and alcohol would knock me flat on my ass once I got to the Crystal Empire.

I did exactly as the Stranger said, and it led me to a water retention system. Storm water, clear as quartz. I slowly lowered myself in. It was horrifically cold, but I’d live. Honestly, it felt warmer than the outside of the tunnel. I put the device he’d given me into my mouth, clutching it with my teeth. And as soon as my head lowered under the water, I did as he instructed. Bite and suck. Doing that answered my question. It was an oxygen filter, extracting clean air from the water. Looking down the submerged tunnel, all I could see was darkness. It would be a long walk. Wade? Swim? Didn’t matter. It would be a good workout.

I had to wear three layers just to stand out in the cold for more than ten minutes at a time. The only reasonable time we could move was when the sun was desperately trying to poke through the clouds, providing us with just enough warmth to crawl along. Even then, we were left shivering, huddled around dying flames in a grave attempt to warm our chilled bones. Standing outside was the only way I could get a signal for my Pip-Buck in this horrific weather. As if it was trying to intentionally lure me out of hiding. I got my look at the map, it would suffice. I had to head back inside before my blood froze solid.

Slamming the sliding garage door shut with all my might, I locked it to the floor with a padlock. Everypony else was waiting inside, their breaths condensed, even as they sat inches away from the fire. We made sure the place had plenty of ventilation so we didn’t suffocate in the smoke. Otherwise, it’d be back to building scrambling. I joined the group, sitting down between Willow and Fizzle. Carrie was busy heating cans of beans over the fire, using her metal fingers to roll them, keeping the heat even. She glances over towards me, her cold eyes meeting mine. “So, what’s the Pip-Buck tellin’ you?”

“We’re gonna have to cross Galloping Gorge.” I sigh, “I was… hoping to find another route, but. Doing so would cost us another month or two. Approximates are already saying we won’t be there until early Spring.” I click a few things on the Pip-Buck. “If we’re lucky.” Shaking my head, I cross my forelegs, huddling up. “If… anypony has any suggestions, feel free to offer them.”

“Galloping Gorge? Shit.” Prim pipes up. “Primo spot for an ambush.”

“Mah thoughts exactly.” Carrie tosses me a hot can. I catch it with my magic, no way in hell was I going to touch it. She points at Prim. “Far as Ah recall, there’s a few bridges, most of ‘em ‘re in total disrepair, though. Not a ton o’ movement ‘cross the river.”

Fizzle rolls her empty can between her forehooves, sliding her tongue around her cheeks as she thinks. “Is there no alternative route? Maybe we can find a vertibird?”

“This weather’s a flight hazard. E’en fer pegasi, let alone a vertibird.” Carrie replies, sighing. “‘Sides. Nearest Air Base is Neighvarro in the Remnants of Cloudsdale. And that’s Enclave. We ain’t goin’ within fifty fuckin’ clicks of that place.” She stirs the fire, extending her foreleg to do so. Withdrawing a glowing claw, she stares at it. “Otherwise than that? We got Steel Rangers. Salt Lick City, Seaddle, and Friendship City ‘re the biggest hubs. Where all their aircraft ‘re sittin’ pretty and polished. An’ Ah ain’t exactly on speakin’ terms with the Rangers.”

The pink pony sighs, looking rather disappointed. “Damn… it really is on hoof or a no-go, huh?”

“Seems so.” Prim answers, blowing a big bubble. Once she pops it, pulling it back into her mouth, she looks at Willow. “What about you, Witch?”

“What about me, Courier?” She furrows her brows, snapping back. “Cake gave us our route. Rail lines aren’t running, so we can’t take a train. Until things unfreeze, we can’t take a car, all the engines are useless.” Huffing, she looks over at me, almost for consultation. “Closest we can get before a shortcut presents itself is Cantertine. There’s an entrance to a subterranean tunnel network there. We can pass under the mountains to get to the Empire.”

I make note of that on my Pip-Buck, “Duly noted… only real thing to do now then is keep the time passing and stay alive. So…” clapping my hooves together, I look around the circle, “how to pass the time?”

“Oh! Oh!” Fizzle reaches under her cloak, pulling out a guitar, holding it out for Carrie. “Play a song! Play a song!”

“Fizzle…” the scarlet-maned mare growls, seeming almost embarrassed by the suggestion.

“Awww, c’mon! You’re so good at it!” She rattles the instrument.

Willow scoffs, “She’s heartless, how could she possibly have any musical talent?” Then, she points to Carrie’s cutie mark, the bloodied moon. “Besides. It’s clear what her real talent is already.”

Baring her teeth, Carrie snatches the guitar, staring Willow down. “Ah’ll show you mah damned talent, ya nasty whore.” Practically blowing steam out of her nose. She leans back, getting in a comfortable position. “For anypony with a more pleasant attitude, any suggestions?”

“The Mysterious Stranger?” The soda pony offers.

“Nah, we ain’t doin’ that one again. Ah want a break from singin’ ‘bout him.” She fiddles with the tuning. “Anypony else?”

“The Windigos.” Willow speaks, snagging our collective attention. “The hungry spirits of eternal, deathly Winter. Think you can do that?”

Carrie snickers. “Lil’ early fer a Hearth’s Warming song, ain’t it? Should be singin’ about Nightmare Night. ‘Bout that time anyway.”

“Wait, what are the Windigos?” I interrupt, leaning in.

Everypony looks at me, “You’ve… never heard of the Windigos?” Prim cocks a brow, almost laughing, “Did your mom never read you any Hearth’s Warming stories?”

“Uh… n-no. Not really?” Shrugging, I rub my left foreleg. “I mean, y’know, we celebrated Hearth’s Warming in the Stable, I just never knew why. It was never really brought up. And my mother… wasn’t exactly super present. Physically or emotionally. She… probably would’ve been too busy emptying the nog tap and ‘mingling’ to bother reading me anything.”

“Ya momma sounds like a bitch.” Carrie chimes in.

A bout of laughter eases most everypony around the fire, save for Willow, who doesn’t seem amused by Carrie’s response. Once we all settle, the teal witch focused on me. “I’m sorry, sounds like you were never close with your mother.”

“Well.” I shrug, “If she even was my mother. I doubt it though, she wasn’t in the cryopod with me.”

“Cryopod? Never knew Sardines came frozen.” Prim sarcastically pries.

Letting out a sharp exhale through my nose, I open up my can of beans. Refried. Good, I liked them this way. I took the multitool from my bag and stuck the spoon head into the mush, taking in a mouthful. “Mmmm…” I wave the spoon with my magic, holding the can with my hooves. “Whole reason I’m out here. Found out I am uh, actually 300 some years old. Shrugging, I look around, “I mean, I’m not the only one who was frozen, Fizzle was. I was the only one frozen in the Stable, though. By my dad, I think. Some centuries ago, when the Final Day happened. I was only six or so at the time. That’s how old I looked in the footage, anyway.”

“You don’t remember anything from before that?” Willow asks, placing a hoof on my shoulder.

I push out a heavy sigh, shaking my head and taking another bite. There goes that grinding again. A reminder of my inability to remember. “Nope. It’s all-“ raising a hoof to the side of my head, I wiggle it around. “Foggy. I can’t seem to… really think about it. Like there’s some kind of wall.”

“Damn… that sucks.” Fizzle frowns, “I… I couldn’t imagine not remembering it. For me I just… went to sleep in a little pod and suddenly it was 300 years later. Didn’t even feel like time passed.” She rubs her hooves together. “I miss my marketing team. And the photographers I worked with. And the tailors…” her ears fold back, eyebrows turning up, “all of my friends are gone, I think. Doubt any of them are ghouls. And if they were, they probably went feral by now.”

I place a hoof on Fizzle’s back, cocking my head to the side. “Hey. Not all your friends are gone. You’ve got at least two ponies here that consider themselves your friend.”

She gives a glum little smile, glancing over. “What was the Stable like? Other than the whole… y’know. Living underground and never seeing the sun thing?”

Withdrawing my hoof, I look around, “Does… everypony else care to hear? I’d only talk about it so long as you all are interested.”

Carrie sets her guitar aside, glancing at Prim, who nods approvingly. “Shoot, Ah’m curious.”

I look at Willow, who gives me a weak smile. “Alright. Uh…” I rub my hooves together, keeping my can of beans in my lap. “Well. I’ll… start with the positives, I guess. I had two best friends in there, a pegasus and an earth pony, Aero Ace and Cherry Garcia, respectively. Artist and baker. We’ve known each other since we were foals. Same grade, same classes, same everything, as you might expect. Uh. The library was really really big. One of the biggest sections of the Stable, actually. Ponies were almost always filling the place. Trying to keep five hundred or so ponies entertained for generations was… quite the task. What else? Oh!” I hold up my spoon, “Jello Cake for new years. That's it. Pretty much all the positives I can think of, really. I mean, I worked the Stable reactor ‘cause nopony else could do it like me. Kept me healthy.” I shrug, digging at the inside of my can.

“And the cons?” Prim asks.

“Oh, boy. Where to start?” I tap my chin, genuinely giving it a thought. “The place was like a labyrinth. No matter how long you live there it always seems like there’s a corridor you’ve never been down and a door you’ve never opened. I only just found out a few months before I left that we had a pool. I guess that’s a neutral quality more than anything else. Just a fact of living there. Anyway.” I wave a hoof, “We never got any actual sun, just artificial UV. We couldn’t see the stars. There weren’t any ‘seasons’, the Stable was always the same temperature, which made it really difficult to know what time of the year it was. Birthdays were celebrated based on month, rather than day, on the twelfth. Ace and I shared a month. May.” I scoop another helping into my mouth, “The air was always stuffy, no matter how well-ventilated your section was. There was no silence. Ever. You could always hear lights buzzing and wires running. I had to sleep with earplugs in, otherwise I’d get migraines.”

“Sheesh…” Fizzle shakes her head, “that sounds more like a prison than a hideaway.”

“Oh! And another awful thing! Nopony likes to be fucking honest.” I swipe my spoon around to emphasize my point. “They were all spineless, two-faced yellowbellies. Same sex marriage and relationships were strictly prohibited. Procreation is regulated and requires extensive psych evaluations, genetic tests, and physical examinations. You couldn’t recreationally have sex. And as far as self-pleasure goes? Good luck finding a good and consistent method of getting off. Most ponies in there were kind of sex addicted. When you have nothing else to do but work and read, that’s if you even had a ‘real job’, you get sick of the monotony.”

“Sounds perfect for somepony like Willow.” Prim replies facetiously.

“Fuck you.” The witch barks.

Carrie glances over at Prim and lets out a wheezy chuckle, “Alright alright, don’t make her force ya to eat the fire, now.”

“What about you, Prim? Where’d you grow up?” I try to drive the conversation away from violence. I wanted a break.

Taking her bolt action rifle and beginning to disassemble it, something she did almost every day, she thinks about it. “Ugh, I… don’t really remember.” She squints slightly. “The name, Shady Sands, I remember rather well. But I… I don’t remember really growing up there. I have vague, cloudy memories of ponies I might’ve known at one time or another. I think I had foals. Everytime I think about it, it feels pleasant. But it feels like it’s been a lifetime since I’ve been there.” Shrugging, she starts rubbing a rag through her gun parts. “But I’m not that old, so… that can’t possibly be the case.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Willow snorts, “And what’s with your lobotomy scar?” She points at the line behind Prim’s bangs.

“Nunya, witch.” Prim snaps.

“What’s nunya?” Fizzle asks.

I look over, “None of your business.”

“Wh- but, why? I’m just curious.” The pink pony recoils.

“No, I’m- okay nevermind.” I wave a hoof, “Where’d you grow up, Fizzle?”

Sitting silently for a moment, she seems to space out, trying to pull forward the memories. “Los Ungulas. My mom was an actress, and my dad was a stock broker. I kinda… took the middle path. I did a lot of advertisements before I did Sparkle-Cola, though. Shampoos, hoof polish lines, I was even a furniture model. But I really liked Sparkle-Cola. My cutie mark is uh, different, because of that career. Got changed, but honestly, I like this one better!” She smiles, “They were actually really appreciative to have me. They conducted some… minor experiments, stuff to make me more appealing supposedly, but it was mostly just changing my mane, coat color, and cutie mark. Unless they somehow made me supernaturally charismatic.” Fizzle chuckles, “Which they didn’t. That was my special talent before the cola bottle.” She lets out an awkward snicker, then points at Willow, “Your turn! Sharing circle.”

Willow purses her lips, adjusting her cloak for a moment. “Hmmm. Tough to say where I really… grew up, per se. I mean, I was raised in the Griffish Isles, in Trottingham, before the war. Til I was maybe… in my mid twenties? Then I sort of wandered around for… fourty or so years. Made good friends with somepony in Ponyville in that time. Met the princess before she was on the throne. Then… towards the last few years before the war, I met a stallion.” She pauses, looking longingly into the fire, watching the old, brittle logs crack and sputter. “He… he was the best thing that ever happened to me.” I watch her face swell with the urge to start crying,

“Seems like we’ve all lost somethin’ we want back. Some remnants of the old Equestria.” Carrie glances around. “A time where peace was all we knew.”

“We?” Willow asks, her eyes narrowed on the scarlet alicorn. “As if you even know the definition of peace. I’d be surprised if you’re even capable of upholding any illusion of sympathy, let alone actually understanding what we’ve experienced.”

Carrie bolts up, baring her teeth, “Oh, because what you’ve experienced is all there is, huh?! Yeah Ah’ve burned entire fuckin’ CITIES t’the ground! Ah’ve tortured ponies purely fer the fuckin’ rush it gives me. Ah live fer the feelin’ of sinkin’ mah teeth in their flesh and suckin’ their blood out like a leech. But Ah ain’t ever done it to nopony who don’t fuckin’ deserve it!”

“Carrie!” Fizzle meets the faux alicorn, pushing her back, away from the fire. “Please, calm down.”

“Fuck you, Willow Wayfarer.” Carrie’s gaze becomes cold, “You got no fuckin’ clue what Ah’m capable of. The sufferin’ Ah’ve endured, Ah continue to endure. Ya claim yer an empath.” The scrawny, gangly pony lets out a wheezy laugh, pointing a claw at the witch. “Yet, ya can’t see anything under the surface you don’t wanna see. And you wouldn’t know it, but the only thing keepin’ yer head on yer shoulders is the fact Ah have mercy. Forget sympathy.” She huffs through her teeth, before gently pushing Fizzle away. “Ah’m gonna leave. Clear mah head fer a minute.”

I watch as the alicorn marches off, looking at Willow with a sour expression. “She was with the Enclave, Willow. I’m sure she didn’t exactly have a fantastic foalhood.”

“Having a hard foalhood doesn’t excuse being a psychopathic, drug-addled, alcoholic cannibal murderer.” She replies, “I don’t know why you’re so defensive of her.”

“Everypony I meet shivers in their horseshoes at the mention that I met Chopper and lived.” I turn slightly to face her better, “And he is the reason I’m here right now. Everypony thinks he’s an impenetrable wall of rage and bloodlust. Like Carrie. Like The Redline. You’ll see, Willow. One of these days you’ll see that other side of her. The one nopony else does.”

The witch sighs, “And if that never happens?”

I raise a hoof, “Then that’s on me. I’ll take it on the chin.” Putting my hoof down, I glance around at Prim and Fizzle. “I’ll take responsibility for her if she snaps. If something happens, Celestia forbid. I swear.”

—————————————————————————————

I sat outside in the snow, under a little awning some ways away from the garage. Tuning my guitar, I heard hooves in the snow. It was Cake. I could tell by the impact sound. “Go away, lil’ filly. Ah ain’t in the mind t’speak with nopony right now.”

“Then don’t.” She replies, coming up next to me and dusting snow off of an old rolling tool locker, sitting next to me. “I’ll just talk to you without gettin’ a response.” The little yellow unicorn pulls out a flask. She’s picked up drinking since we started on the road. Claims the alcohol keeps her warm. I’m not so sure. She seems like she’s seen too much in too little a time. And I’m sure it’s only gonna get worse. Screwing off the top, she knocks back a solid mouthful of apple whisky. “Woof… sorry about Willow. She’s… a little overprotective of me. Dunno why, but, I’m not gonna complain. She sees you as a threat. All that dark magic on you. Like a Moirai.”

I glance over, folding my forehooves over the steel plate on my guitar. “How you know ‘bout that?” I cock my head, furrowing my brows.

“Please.” She chuckles, taking another swig of her flask. “It leaks through your pores. I can see it burn off of you like a charred corpse. Freaked me out at first, but… I’ve gotten used to it.” Shrugging, Cake offers me the flask. “You’re not the first cannibal I’ve met. You’re just the friendliest.”

Letting out a wheezy scoff, I take the alcohol and take a big mouthful. Sweet hell it tasted good. “Ain’t nothin’ friendly about me, Cake. Gotta keep everypony at leg’s length. Otherwise they end up dead. No fault o’ their own. Always mine.”

Cake hesitates to reply, looking out at the white hell that lays before us. “Y’know. I find it really interesting that the most fearsome ponies I’ve journeyed with claim to be these terrible, awful individuals. They’ve done horrible things in their past, so they think it makes them horrible forever. Chopper talked about all the villages he burned and ransacked, pushed by his daddy to do so. But he always reminded me that he left innocent ponies alive. Much as he could feasibly do without getting caught. Talked about how his clan’s fallen from their once golden graces.” She glances over at me, “You reek like death. Smell like annihilation incarnate. And yet… I’m not afraid of you. What you said in there confirmed my suspicions. You do have a heart. You just haven’t shown it to us yet.”

I meet her eyes, scowling a little bit. “Fuck would you know about me?”

“That’s precisely it, Carrie.” Yanking the flask from my claws with her magic, she finishes it off. She takes a moment to get her bearings. “I dunno shit about you. Save for the fact that Fizzle trusts you way further than she can throw you. Nopony who’s heartless or soulless carries a guitar with them wherever they go. Let alone play it.” Tucking the flask away in her layers of clothing, she takes a deep breath. She was very clearly tipsy, some color in her cheeks, either from the cold or the alcohol. “Y’know what I think? I think… the ponies with the most blood on their hooves are the ones who have the biggest hearts. There are exceptions… but… why would a pony fight so hard if they didn’t care?”

What an odd, naive thing to say. How could she really believe that? How could she think that? What with all the murderers and rapists in the wastes. “Is that really whatcha think, Cake?”

She scoffs, “Maybe!” Sliding off the toolbox, she sighs. “I’m gonna head inside before my tits freeze clean off. I’d really like to hear you play that guitar one of these days. Something tells me your talent isn’t really being a psychopath.” Turning her head back, she smirks, “Who knows. Maybe I’m just telling you what you wanna hear.”

I watch as she sluggishly returns to the inside of the garage, leaving me alone once again. I glance down at my guitar, running a thumb-claw across the strings. I wish I could tell her the truth. She so badly deserved to hear it. But she wasn’t ready. I could smell it. The Barrier was still in place. What I had to tell her wouldn’t matter until it was gone. The wind howled around me, drawing my attention to a building across the street.

He stood there. My shadow, The Stranger. I’d been waiting to see him again for a while now. He’s been keeping his distance, rightfully so. He and I were in agreement. It wasn’t the right time or the right place. Those hypnotic green eyes staring at me, Balefire in freeflow down his pallid cheeks. An old, familial illusion flashed over him. Blink and you’ll miss it. Then, as an old tarp blew across the icy dunes past him, he vanished. Gone as quickly as he appeared.

Breaking down some of my old tools, I managed to make myself a pneumatic needler. Sure, it wasn’t a gun, this Stable didn’t have any, but it would more than likely serve the purpose it needed to. Being a tattoo artist, I had plenty of medical supplies. No parlor offering body mods would be safe without them. I got the radio station that Cake left for Cherry. 134.84, I’ve been keeping my Pip-Buck tuned to it almost every day. Just in case. The only problem now would be finding a way out.

Collapsing my pneumatic rifle, I slipped it into a leather bag I fashioned into a holster. As far as I understood, there were two ways out. The front door, and some secret entrance in the reactor room. According to the Overmare, that’s the one Cake used, as that’s the last case use of her administrative password. I couldn’t get in there without her password, which nopony knew except the Overmare. I didn’t have clearance. What I did have, though, was a slick pair of wings and a hunch that if I checked the Overmare’s terminal, I could find the front door code. Maybe I’d set everypony free. We’d finally have something to live for. A purpose to fulfill. I could finally bring my artistic understanding to the surface.

Slinking out of my parlor as casually as I could, I bumped into Dug Deep, a rather large stallion, one of the farm ponies who saw me regularly. “Oh, whassup Ace? Where you headed?” His voice was deep and relaxed, not a hint of stress in his demeanor. He liked to attribute his “needle therapy” and “private massages” with me to that fact. This was perfect actually. His positive attitude was a magnet for attention.

“Oh heeeeyyy, Dug…” I bring a hoof up, gently playing with his Stable Suit zipper, “how’s my favorite farmer?”

“Ah, you know, potatoes aren’t gonna grow themselves. Ahaha…” he snorts a little, one of his ears wiggling as he glances down through his shaggy mane. “Was gonna see if uh, maybe you had room for a walk-in…?”

I bring my hoof back, tapping my chin. “Hmmm… sure. But!” I point at him with a wing. “Only if you do me a huge favor afterwards.”

He rubs under his chin with a dark hoof, “I mean… yeah sure. Why not?”

Grabbing him by the collar, I pull him back into my parlor, closing the door. “Let’s make this quick… I have someplace to be.”

Quick for him was still 20 minutes. He insisted on aftercare for me, but quite frankly I didn’t have time for it. I cleaned myself up and got my game face straight back on. Dug followed me up to the third level, closest to both the Overmare’s office and the Stable door. All I had to do was have Dug distract the security so I could sneak a passcard. And of course, ever reliable as he is, he gets them talking about their workout routine.

As exciting as it was to listen to them talk about their deadlift records, I had shit to do. Using one of my wings, I slipped a keycard from one of the security ponies’ belts. Thankfully, they were too busy gloating to notice I slipped by them. Ascending to the office as quietly as I could, I assembled my pneumatic rifle. Just in case. Loading it with a plastic magazine I made myself, I pull back the crudely welded bolt, loading a six gauge needle. Standing on my hind legs, I use my wings to balance, swiping the keycard on the Overmare’s door.

It hisses as it splits open, revealing the posh office, the Overmare still sat at her terminal. A pure silver unicorn, completely monochromatic. She looks shocked, but I raise the rifle to meet her gaze, shouldering it stiffly. “Ace??” Her gray eyes widen, and she slowly pulls away from the dialboard.

“Ah-ah!” I step in, closing the door behind me. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t be here. It would’ve made this a lot easier.” I approach the desk, still training the barrel on her. “You need to get me access codes. The front and secret doors, and clearance to the reactor room.”

“Aero Ace, are you insane?” She holds up her hooves, shaking her head.

Nudging the rifle closer, I give her a stern look. “With all due respect, Overmare Silver Lining, we have been trapped in this Stable for generations. It’s time we take part in Reclamation Day. I’m here to ring that bell, whether or not you like it. It started with Cake. I will be the one to take the next step.” I motion for her to start getting the codes. “And if you don’t cooperate? This rifle is loaded with a cartridge of 52 six gauge needles. I can turn you into a pin cushion, and I’m not afraid to do so.”

Her panic suddenly drops, and her hooves slump down to her haunches. She stared me down. Her whole demeanor shifted. “I tried… for 30 years I tried to keep you all safe. Do you know how hard it’s been? To keep you safe from a danger you can’t know exists?” Her eyes seem lightless, a firm wrinkle in her forehead. “Administrative access code is W, 0, N, D, 3, R, 8, 0, L, T. That’ll work on any keypad or terminal you enter it into.”

The atmosphere shifts. The room goes dark. Then, red lights flicker back on. An alarm blares through the Stable. Silver and I exchange confused glances. “Were you wearing a wire??” She asks, standing up from her chair.

“That… wasn’t anything I did.” I get the door open, and begin gliding down the stairs. Right down the hallway, I saw it. The Stable door opening. The massive mechanism slowly moved the cog-shaped door to the side, bright sunlight streaming in through the expanding crack. The entire security team had gathered, stun batons at the ready, in a formation expectant of an assault. I backed away, down the hallway, looking for Dug. My heart felt like it was about to explode, the door creeping open ever more. The Stable door reached its apex opening point. Everything fell quiet, beside the blaring alarm. Hooves shifted, security shuffled, watching the blinding, almost heavenly entrance to see who might be waiting.

A single silhouette appears in the doorway. Tall, thin, a horn protruding from their head. “Oh, wonderful. A welcoming party.” A distorted feminine voice announcing their presence. “Exterminate them.”

A deafening sound, drowning out even the alarms. A hail of lead tearing through the two dozen or so security guards, blood spraying all over the walls, painting the ceiling, pooling on the floor. I flopped onto my back, trying to avoid the hell-storm. To hell with the needler, there was no way in all of Equestria I was gonna try to fight those machine guns.

Once the blitz of bullets came to an end, I felt warm blood soak into my fur and Stable suit. I was trembling, blood flowing like a river down the hall, into the stairwell. As the invaders stepped in, I got up as quickly as I could manage, scrambling away against the slippery floor. “We have a runner!” One of the occupants called out, giving chase. As I jumped down the circular staircase, wings open to slow my fall, I watched blood rain down onto the lower levels. Ponies were screaming, running for shelter. I was headed to only one place. Cherry’s bakery.

I didn’t even really process the route, just in a primal rush to get there as quickly as I could. “CHERRY!” I wail, pushing past security that went the opposite way. “CHERRY! FOR FUCKS SAKE!” I slam against her bakery door, the earth pony cowering with a knife in the corner behind the counter. “We have to go to the reactor, now.”

“What??” She recoils, shaking as she clutches the knife with her hooves.

Running over, I yank her to all fours, starting to drag her towards the door. “I said we need to GO!”

Another rain of gunfire, blood spattering across the windows of Cherry’s bakery. I heard her wretch at the sight of the gore, but I pulled her along anyway. Bursting through the door, I slide out into the blood-slick hallway. Only to be held at gunpoint by a heavily armored pegasus. “Caught our little runaway!” He hollers.

A metallic clinking, the alarm ceasing its wail, only the pulsing red lights remain. Approaching us, that single slim figure from before. They remove their helmet, revealing their stony face. A mare, a unicorn. That is, until I saw a wing unfold to tuck her helmet under. My heart dropped into my stomach. “An… alicorn? That’s… no that’s impossible. Only the princesses-“

“The princesses aren’t here to save you, little Stable Dweller.” She slowly approaches, a soulless smirk spreading across her face, dead, green-glowing eyes staring holes straight through my skull. “What a lovely little home you have. Where are my manners?” She waves a hoof, and I’m suddenly swept onto my ass, prostrating before her. She looms over me, cocking her head. “My name is Lieutenant Iris Darkstar. Welcome to Enclave occupation, insect.”

“I think you’re doing quite well for yourself, all things considered.” A gentle, feminine voice said.

I swung my head up, teary eyed, looking to where the voice came from. It was Nightshade, the zebra who had lured me into the cryo hall in the Stable. “Oh… it’s you again.”

She joined me near the guard rail, on my right, smiling. Her pale, milky eyes stared off across the river. “Poor thing, you don’t exactly sound enthusiastic about seeing me.”

My hope was that she was making an attempt at humor. “So… what exactly are you? Some kind of… fortuneteller? A wandering sage of some kind?” I asked, staring off into the distance with her. We, I think, both stared at the reflection of the sun in the river, letting the warm rays interrupt the bone chill of the winter.

The zebra chuckles, “I am many things, my dear. We’ve been over this, and nothing’s changed. Not yet, anyway.” Nightshade’s left hoof goes over my right hoof, and I feel a heat rush into my face. “My darling, this is your first real step into becoming the mare you were meant to be.”

“So, you must be some kind of guide, then. That’s what I’m understanding.” I sigh, glancing down at her hoof. “Are you real? A stupid question probably, but I have to be sure.”

“As real as anypony else, Cake.” She gently replies, “The road ahead is treacherous. It is filled with danger, deceit, and death. Before you enter Whinnyapolis, you must be sure that it is what you want. Once you begin this path… it does not cease until you either reach the end, or die trying.” Her tone, albeit soft, becomes very grave. “This journey… is this what you want?”

I let out a deep exhale, exhausted. “The road I’ve been on has already been filled with death. At this point, I think I’m starting to attract it. Especially that whole deal in the Blackwater.” Hesitating, I think for a moment, “Can I know the stakes? You know, of this choice.”

She takes a deep breath, seemingly reluctant to answer. “Let us say… the Equestria where you make it to the end is very different from the Equestria where you don’t. You don’t want the latter. Neither does anypony else. You have a gift, Cake. A blessing. You mustn’t squander it, my dear.”

I take the revolver from my belt with a swirling of my blue magic, breaking the action, and beginning to load the cylinder with cartridges. All the pointless guides I’ve read finally mean something. Have a use. “I… don’t really understand what makes me so important. Why I’m finding all of this out now, or what any of it means. And there’s this… barrier. In my brain. I feel like I’m supposed to remember something, but I can’t. It’s like Deja Vu, except half of me is telling myself it can’t be.”

“You won’t understand for a long time, Yellowcake. Most of your time will be spent wondering. Guessing. Imagining.” She cups under my chin, and brings my attention to her. I watch as her eyes uncloud, the milkiness dissipating. Behind them, I see the stars. The sky above the clouds. “The truth, in all its beauty and horror, lies ahead. Steel your mind, Yellowcake. Otherwise, you may drown in your own fear.” She vanishes, dissipating in a black fog, simply evaporating before my eyes.

I recoil, watching as the darkness drifts away, eyes twitching. “Well that’s… foreboding as a motherfucker.”

“Cake? You’re up awful early.” Willow’s voice gently shakes me from the encounter. I turn around, getting a view of her. The unicorn rubbed her eyes, seeming a little groggy. “What’re you doing out here?”

Letting out a frustrated huff, I clap my revolver’s cylinder shut, stuffing it into my belt. “Was trying to practice my aim. Still couldn’t hit the broad side of a fuckin’ barn.”

“Oh…” the teal mare chuckles, “honey, you’re not gonna be good at it right away. Even with S.A.T.S.” She comes close, giving me a rub on the shoulder.

“We should get moving, I’ll try and shake off my nerves on the way.” I look across the bridge to the city, Whinnyapolis. It was huge, surrounded by flying drones of some kind, without any wall around it. However, it seemed that it was once the site of a Megaspell. Most of the buildings were disheveled, in disrepair. In the center was a pair of buildings twisted together in a double helix, like some kind of warped idol.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting inside the city, we were greeted with the sight of all kinds of creatures. Ponies, Kirin, Zebras, even a few Changelings. But they all had one thing in common; some part of their body had been replaced with machinery. Not old prosthetics. These were wasteland-made augments. They all commonly seemed to be something rather vital. A leg, an arm, bits of their chest, sometimes even eyes, wings, or horns. They all dressed the same. Velvety blue and black, with bolts, cogs, and wires draped over themselves like jewelry. They gave the three of us rather dirty looks, mainly me, by the looks of things. I leaned closer to Willow, “Why the fuck are they staring at me?”

“You don’t exactly blend in, honey.” She replies, “Neither of us do. But… those odd eyes of yours are kind of a beacon for attention.” Waving a hoof, Willow looks back at me, “Don’t pay them any mind. Most of them are fucking whackjobs.”

We made our way for the double helix. It only made sense to do so. We passed entire sections of the city that were nothing but rubble, inhabited by cleaning bots and slaving pony foalk. Ones without augments, left to labor, to drive work. I watched as one stallion spoke out, and was immediately, without any hesitation, executed. These fully organic ponies were nothing but objects to them. To be captured, used, and disposed of. It made me sick. To be so technologically advanced, and yet so barbaric. It was unlike ponies. Unlike any creature to do this. The clouds here weren’t normal. They were dark, exceptionally thick, and heavy. It was so cold here. Colder than anywhere else, even beyond the snow and ice that rained in for the season. There was something deeply wrong with this place. Even the Blackwater was far more comforting than here.

Once we got to the helix building, I pulled out the tracking device, flashing it to a pair of guards. I couldn’t tell if they were ponies or automatons. They were so heavily modified, I don’t think it mattered. They might as well have been robots. “Enter. Proceed to the lower level via the central elevator. The others are waiting for you.” They simultaneously commanded. Then, they opened the door, forcing us inside.

“Others?” Willow questioned.

“Hell if I know. Looks like we’ll find out, though.” I sighed, adjusting the collar on my suit. We stood on a large central platform, slightly elevated from the broken, dusty tile floor. Without having to do much of anything, the platform buckled, and began to descend. A sense of dread overwhelms me, a darkness incomparable to even that of the pocket dimension I was trapped in. Beyond the mechanical worship of this place, there was evil here. True, horrible, soul-eating evil. I flick my head over to try and gleam any comfort from Willow. No such luck. She has a hoof to her chest, her breathing elevated, the color drained from her face. Normally, she looked rather feverish when she fed, but this was different. Written all over her face was an expression of pure terror, like I’ve never seen. “Willow? You alright?”

She shook her head, “No. there’s somepony here… a pony I’ve felt before. Not Cold Crank. Somepony far worse.”

The elevator drops, and we’re left in a corridor. Long, dimly lit, and heavy. The walls were lined with ponies, tubes connected to their head, strung and encased in what looked like terminal parts. Suspended in time, used as computer processors. I could feel my legs shaking, but I took a deep breath to steel myself, and began walking forward. Willow seemed to be having the same difficulty I did. Stepping towards the large metal door at the end of the hallway, I brought a hoof up to the button. I hesitated, but I let out a thorough exhale, and pressed it in. The door slid open, revealing the inner sanctum.

It was a large, circular room with a door on the other side. It looked like a lounge of some kind, filled with couches, tables, and bottles of alcohol. On one of the strange, half-circle couches, sat three mares. On the right, a drab rose earth pony, a bolt-action sniper rifle sat on the couch beside her. On the left, a rather pudgy, vibrant pink earth pony, wearing a stitched-up assembly of clothes. And in the middle, a pony like I’ve never seen. A corpse white mare, with a mane of red and pink that was long, ratty, and unkempt. It hung in her freckled face slightly, masking her scars, of which there were numerous. Parting the mane was a chrome plate on her forehead, a four-point star, fitted with a metal horn. Beneath the strands that darkened her face, her eyes glowed. Menacing, blood red irises, sat in stark yellow sclera. Clearly artificial. Then I noticed that beyond her prosthetic forelegs, fitted onto her spindly body, were a pair of manufactured pegasus wings. Whatever she was before, she was now a faux alicorn.

This must’ve been the source of Willow’s anxieties. This strange, walking experiment. Her tech was far too advanced to be wasteland-made. And following her, twisting my stomach into knots, was the sickly sweet and sour stench of what could only be described as death itself. I took a seat across from her. Willow joined me accordingly, albeit reluctantly. There was something about this mare, it triggered something deep in my mind. Like that feeling of uncanny valley. But more than that, an unshakeable sense of belonging. I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t comprehend. And I think she felt it too. She looked at me with a stern, but curious expression. A crooked smirk. I spoke first. “So… I assume you’re all here to see this Cold Crank?”

“Cracked the case wide open there, detective.” The augmented mare replied with a facetious tone. “Ain’t like any of us got much a choice. Say, what the hell’s a Stable Dweller like yerself doin’ here?” She had an extraordinarily thick Appleoosan-sounding accent. Her voice, oddly enough, sounded oddly familiar. In pitch alone. The tone was unique, and it was slightly more hoarse than whatever my mind was comparing it to. But it was much the same.

“I don’t really know, but I don’t think it matters much. Can I get your names?” I motion to the three.

“This here’s Pinpoint Prim.” She waves a metal hoof to the dusty pony. “Courier, sniper, snarky bitch, and chronic bubble blower.”

Prim nods her head, blowing a big blue bubble of gum, before she pops it, swishing it back into her mouth. “Haven’t seen a proper Sardine in ages…”

“Over here, y’got Quantum Fizzle. Ah’m sure somepony like you knows ‘er though.” She points to the soft peach pony.

My eyes widened as I immediately recognized who sat before me. “You’re… you’re the Sparkle-Cola mare! From Pre-War! How the hell are you here?”

She waves a hoof. “Hi! That’s me, haha. I was frozen!” She shrugs, giving a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet you though! Especially as somepony who knows who I am. I’m still new to this whole… ‘wasteland’ thing, aheh.” She snickers, bobbing her head a bit to emphasize her point. “Only been out of my cryopod a week. We took a train here.”

“Wait, there are still functional trains?” I squint.

The weaponized mare nods, “Yeeup. One still runs through Dodge Junction up t’Canterhorn. Anywho, Ah’m-”

“The Redline.” Willow speaks. Her tone reads with disgust and anger. “Cardinal Rime. I know how many ponies you’ve killed. The thousands of bodies, the razed cities you’ve left in your wake. You’re a monster.”

I watch as the augmented alicorn’s face twists, folds forming around her snout, taking on an aggressive stare. Her eye sockets darken further, an unfathomable hatred radiating from her. Pungent, like a toxic miasma. “As if Ah should give a shit what a black-magic whore like you thinks o’ me.”

“What-” I try to interject.

“And anotha thing? Don’t think Ah don’t know who you are, Willow Wayfarer. Ya vampiric hussy.” Cardinal cuts me off.

“HUSSY?!” Willow scoffs, “Aha! As if you’re any better, you Celestia-damned cannibal!”

“LADIES!” A voice booms through the room, commanding all attention. The sound of three horseshoes, and a loud, metal claw. Approaching our group of five was a single blue pegasus, with a rotten teal mane, flipped to one side. His back right leg was a mechanical contraption, shaped like a griffon’s claw, loudly clanking against the floor. His body was fitted with metal plates seemingly at random, save for the iron horseshoes he wore to platform himself, compensating for the length of his hind leg. He had unnaturally square eyes, gaunt cheeks, coat marked with dotted lines, marking his meat cuts. His snout was crooked, like it had been broken several times before. Over his body, he wore a brown coat, disguising his cutie mark, and shrouding his scars. “Fillies, please. There’s no need to fight.” He slowly took a seat on a single leather chair. “Carrie, dearest, would you care for a drink?”

“Fuck you, Cranky. Double malt.” She snapped.

“You got it. And don’t call me that.” He claps his horseshoes together, and suddenly a bottle flings out from behind the bar inside the lounge. Carrie whips her left foreleg out, and claws eject from the rim of her hoof, snatching the bottle from the air. “Now then, now that we’re all satisfied.” Waving his right hoof, the tracking device rockets out from my Stable suit, as well as two others from Prim and Carrie. The three devices magnetize to a metal band on his right foreleg, beeping in sync with each other. “I’ll be taking these.”

“So what is it we’re here for?” I ask, somewhat unprompted. My sudden question draws everypony’s attention, and I recoil a bit, surprised by the offput reaction.

The pegasus smirks, “The Stable-Dweller speaks first, ah? What an interesting turnout…”

“I’m not ‘The Stable-Dweller’. My name is Yellowcake Cream.” I sternly reply, “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to be referred to that way.”

Letting out a hearty, wheezy laugh, the pegasus slaps his chair a few times, hunching forward. Willow places a hoof on my shoulder, giving me a look of warning. His face gleaming with a broken smile, filled in with mismatched metal teeth, the stallion shakes his head. “Oh, Miss Cream, I’m intimately aware of who you are. What you’re capable of. It’s why I made sure Chopper found you.”

I hesitated. That was him? He’s the reason Chopper found me? Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. I take a deep breath, “I’m guessing you’re Cold Crank?”

He snickers, shrugging, turning his head slightly to the side. “Oh please. Just call me Crank, there is no professionalism here. We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

“Like hell we are.” Carrie retorts.

“Well I didn’t ask you, Carrie, now did I?” He bows his head and turns to look at her. Then, he claps his hooves again. Something shimmering in the light fiddles with Prim’s pockets, and throws a cigarette to Crank.

“Wh-?? Hey!” The earth pony blurts.

Catching the cig in his teeth, the cuff around his leg sparks like a lighter, burning the end of his smoke. “Aww, Prim… here I thought you were trying to quit?” Taking a few puffs, and then a long drag, he blows smoke out of his nose. “You all better get used to one another before long. You’ll all be coworkers for the foreseeable future. Weeks, months, years, hell, even a decade maybe.”

“WHAT?!” Carrie and Willow both blurted.

“Mmmhmm!” He pulls on his cig, “Not like you have much of a choice, hmhm…” He chuckles, smoke leaking through his wicked grin. “You’re all going to be my for-hires until I decide I no longer have use for you. Starting with one very important job.” Crank waggles a hoof. “You’re going to be my hunting dogs. Tracking down and caging a sweet, defenseless little animal.” Laughing, he shakes his head. “And if you don’t do exactly what I say? I will dispose of you, and move on.”

“What do you want, Crank?” I asked, taking a diplomatic approach. “We can’t finish a job we don’t have instructions for.”

Holding his hooves out towards me, he smiles. “See? Finally some sense! You are all tasked with finding a Pre-War ghoul. One who used to work for The Ministry of Arcane Sciences, Sparkle Systems and Stable-Tec. One who later was… contracted to work for the Grand Pegasus Enclave.” He smirks, glancing over at Carrie. “One of his greatest pet projects sits in this room with us now. Technically two…”

“Yer talkin’ about Doctor Hold ‘Em.” The faux alicorn replies.

“Wait, as in Texas Hold ‘Em?” I asked.

“Correct!” Crank nods, “The very same.” He puffs a ring of smoke from his mouth, rubbing his hooves together. “I have contacts that… very desperately wish to get ahold of him. Though, as part of our contract, I’m forbidden from saying. Now, I really shouldn’t have to say this, but if you refuse, I will kill you. All of you. Or at least… the ponies I can.” He chortles, glancing around.

In an instant, I watch as Carrie bolts from her seat, and in a red blur, stands in front of Cold Crank. She seems to be locked in place, hunched over on her hind legs, claws extended, inches away from Crank’s face. She grunts, eyes wide and crazed, slobbering and foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. Her legs all quiver, clearly struggling to move. I notice, beneath her leather vest, red lights shining through the thick material. “Holy shit…” I muttered.

Cold Crank cackles in Carrie’s face, kicking his hind legs gleefully. “Wow! It actually works! Now I can treat you like the sub-equine garbage you are, Rime!” He practically snorts from all his giggling, then pushes against Carrie’s chest with his robotic leg. She falls backwards, eyes following him, but body still as stone. Slowly standing, he shakes his head, leaning down and showing off a small cylinder. “Tsk tsk… y’know what this lovely little thing is, Carrie? A recall device.”

“Ah’ll… frckn… krll yw!” Carrie snarls through locked teeth.Standing his robot leg on her head, he triumphantly stares all of us down.

“Now let this be a warning to you, you miserable sacks of shit. Try and cross me, I dare you. This is a fraction of what I’m capable of.” He growls, dropping his hospitable act for a moment. Then, he takes a deep breath, flipping his mane and letting out a wheezy chuckle. “Pack light, and dress warm. Your first clue lies in the Crystal Empire. And since winter’s just around the corner… it’ll be a long and horrific journey north.” Unfreezing Carrie, he pushes her away with his metal hoof against her face, making her hit the couch, then, he begins flapping his wings. As he ascends, he gives us all a sinister smile. “And remember… I’ll be watching, always. Play nice, my little ponies. You’ll be on the road for a while!” He flies off, disappearing into the dark ceiling of the room. All the while, his psychotic laughter echoes through the entire room, bouncing off the walls.

Today we were passing through the remnants of Ponyville and Cloudsdale. The latter being little more than rubble on the outskirts. I was staring at a tree. An old oak tree. For some odd reason, it was… distorted. Warping. Flashing again and again with scorch marks. All on the eastern side of the trunk. And yet, a pair of birds sat on the tree didn’t move an inch. Ravens. Intelligent birds. Scavengers, foragers, able to speak. Mimics. Only one of them saw me. One with a clouded, mangled eye. “Superstitious ponies say ravens’re Luna’s spyin' eyes. Did ya know that?” The words fell from my lips. They weren’t mine. They sounded like it, but they weren’t. They were somepony else’s.

“What was that, Carrie?” Fizzle asked, trying to pull me from my hypnotic haze.

“Huh?” I cocked my head towards her, but kept my eyes on the birds. “What? Whaddya mean?”

Prim tilts her head, approaching me. “You said something, whispered it to yourself.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, honestly. She already watches their dreams. What’s a cute little stalker?” I mumbled, the raven tilting its head, “I heard these little guys just love pumpernickel.”

Fizzle shakes me, “Carrie? What are you looking at?”

Raising a hoof, I pop a claw to point at the birds. “The birds. Ain’t they pretty?”

The courier lets out a wheezy chuckle, “What birds, Carrie? There’s nothing there.”

“On the ole oak tree.” I replied.

“There’s…” the soda pony begins to push my foreleg down, “no tree there either, Carrie.”

I blink. “What?” Looking over at Fizzle, I see an expression of distress wrinkling her forehead. Prim is just as bewildered, stopping her incessant chewing for once. “It’s right-“ I swivel my head back. “There…?” Nothing. Not even a tree stump. As soon as the realization sets in, my brain is ambushed by a throbbing migraine. My body hurts again. I was trembling. For a second it felt like my body was numb, or at least not in pain. And then it was back. That nauseating, eye-crossing, stomach-wrenching pain. It hit me. I’ve been stone sober for too long. A week without alcohol or drugs was really starting to eat at me. I needed something strong to make up for it. Hell, at this point I’d drink fucking isopropyl. I pop my claws on my right hoof, rubbing the bridge of my face. I couldn’t even see straight. “Ah… Ah need somethin’ to get high on. Somethin’ strong.”

“Dash?” Prim starts sorting through her bag. “I’m sure I got something.”

“No, stronger.” I shake my head.

Wheezing again, she continues rummaging. “Shit, girl, you want buck?”

“Mmmnh…” gritting my teeth, I shake my head again. “Ah need somethin’ that’ll lay a ghoul flat on their ass.”

“Carrie you… you don’t need to do those drugs. I’m… sure you’re addicted by now, but still.” Fizzle rubs my back, trying to comfort me. It was appreciated, admittedly, that she was making an attempt. Unfortunately, a grand majority of me couldn’t help but feel aggravated.

My fingers clench the bridge of my snout so strongly for a mere moment, I feel my skull crack. My heart was slamming in my ears, blood grinding in my skull like hooves on a chalkboard. “It ain’t that fuckin’ simple, Fizzle.” Even despite my attempt to be measured, I still snapped. I took a deep breath. “It ain’t just an addiction. It’s… it’s compulsion. Ah ain’t got a choice.”

Surprisingly, she doesn’t flinch. “Okay… I’m sorry.” She pulls her hoof back, placing it against her chest. “We’ll find you something.” Looking back at Prim, she raises a brow. “Right, Prim?”

The blue-maned pony nods, “Right. I’ve been through Ponyville once or twice. I think I know a place we can hit.” Pulling a stick of gum from her jacket, she yanks it into her mouth with her tongue. “We should be careful, though, this place is rife with ghouls.”

“Keep the bubble popping to a fuckin’ minimum then.” I point at her.

“Not ferals.” She replies. “Least, not last time I was here.”

“Wait-“ Fizzle chimes in, “there’s non-feral ghouls?”

Motioning to me, Prim chuckles, “We’ve basically been spending the last week and a half or so with one.” She blows a bubble, “Though, I dunno. Visual and auditory hallucinations, nonsensical mumblings, bipolar attitude. Pretty common traits for a ghoul who’s going feral.”

“Ah ain’t goin’ feral, you dumb cunt.” I snarl, whipping my tail. “And Ah ain’t a ghoul.” I start making my way for Ponyville, royally pissed off.

It was obvious this place was struck hard during the war. Most of the buildings were blown to pieces, scorched on one side. Crystals grew from the ground. Obsidian, with a verdant sheen. Reaching into my bag, I offered Prim and Fizzle both a hefty dose of Rad-X. My geiger counter was counting an albeit degraded, but still dangerous dose of radiation. I had to make sure they’d be alright. I’d be fine. I’d probably get sick a few times, but my body healed fast enough to counteract the more serious effects.

This place was still… oddly lively. Like a snapshot of the past. Everypony here was a ghoul. Even the foals. Amongst the recovered destruction, one structure stayed surprisingly whole. Twilight’s Castle. It seemed to be some kind of halfway house. Most of the ponies here take refuge. Rebuilding was slow, considering their condition. I met a pony at the front double doors. Slung over her was a battle saddle, and she wore plenty of reinforced leather armor. Her coat, what was left of it, was a cream color, with a raggedy, curly mane of navy blue and bubblegum pink. Her eyes were glowing teal rings in black pits. “Tourists, eh?” She snickers, “Whole group of silk-coats no less. Well. Maybe except for you.” She points at me. “Wait a second.” She rubs under her chin for a moment, staring at Fizzle. “Aren’t you that one Sparkle-Cola model?”

“Yes, actually!” The pink pony nods, rather enthusiastic about the recognition.

“Nooooo shit.” The mare snickers, “How the fuck are you still alive? Looking so pristine? Wait wait-“ she waves a hoof, “don’t tell me. Mmmm… cryopod?”

Ears flicking, Fizzle glances at me, then gives a nod. “Yeah, actually. The one with the robot legs pulled me out like, two weeks ago.”

“Dayumn!” She whistles. “Alright, here’s the rundown. Twilight’s Castle is mainly where wanderers sleep when passing through. There’s a few market stalls in here, more in town, though. If you’re looking for ammo and guns, go ahead and find Berryshine. She’s in Sweet Apple Acres, using the hollowed out inside of Stable 2. Looking for specialty meds and drugs? Look for Ditzy Doo. She’s using the rebuilt post office.”

I roll my vision over to a building off to the side of the castle. Flowing waterfalls, and a thin walkway up to a set of ornate doors. “What’s that?”

“That is Twilight’s School of Friendship.” She seems apprehensive about answering. “The Responders still make that place their home. A few other ponies too. I… recommend steering clear, though. Visitors often get um… dragged out by the spirits that supposedly haunt the place.”

“Spirits?” I squint.

“The refugees from Stable 11 lived there for a while.” The mare solemnly speaks. “Poor souls. Never heard of such torturous conditions. Most of them died shortly after getting here. But a few stuck around. One for a while.” Sighing, she shakes her head. “I’m Sweetie Drops, by the way. Friends call me Bon Bon.” She holds out a hoof.

“Carrie.” I shake, “The plump one is Fizzle, the one with the Frankensteer scar is Prim.”

This place was nice. It was nice to be somewhere that was mostly without judgement. Somewhere so open, so friendly. It was a rarity in the Wasteland. I managed to find a guitar for cheap. It was old, hell, probably older than Prim. I got some drugs in my system, that and some blood. Calm as I was, I sat in one of the rooms of Twilight’s castle, waiting for Fizzle and Prim to come back from their little tour. Having spent the last hour or so tuning the guitar, I finally got a chance to play. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, I closed my eyes. My claws slowly struck the acoustic strings, plucking a tune along the guitar’s sound hole. Dancing across the frets, up and down the neck, my other hoof formed the chords. I muttered the first thing that came to mind. I wouldn’t call it singing. My voice was raspy, harsh, hardly something anypony would praise.

A humble pony, stoic and wise,

the sight of an awe striking sunrise

He fled the life, once was his own

To ‘come a ghost the world would throne

A phantom, strings runnin’ through

the rungs of the puppets, sworn to serve

A pony of war, one of love

Weapon was hailed from on above

Swathe of hate, blanket of warm’

If only he’d known,

If only he been warned.

Pony whose trail boils with death

Spirits from an age where your neighbors were kind. 

Souls were golden, their warrant was signed.

The Mysterious Stranger,

Not a stranger to me

Mysterious Stranger,

For the future, you hold the key

Oh, Mysterious Stranger,

Won’t you please take the heat?

My Mysterious Stranger,

I miss the way things used to be.

“Hm.” Prim’s voice interrupts my train of thought. I stiffen up, clapping a hoof over the strings of the guitar. “Didn’t really take you as a lyricist, Carrie.” She motions to the guitar, “Or a musician.”

She stood there with Fizzle, who had a new set of saddlebags slung over her back and a knife strapped to her chest. “Who’s The Mysterious Stranger? Is that like, a metaphor for something?”

“Nah.” Prim answers for me, “The Mysterious Stranger’s a real pony. I’ve seen him.” The two of them slowly approach me, joining me on either side, sitting on mattresses on the floor. “Raiders say he’s the justice-bound ghost of The Final Day. He has a lot of names. Balefire Revenant. Black n’ Gold. Vengeful Shadow. Wasteland’s Tears. Some even say they’re a mare. Depends on the sighting.” Pulling out a can of vegetables, Prim jams her bayonet knife into it, prying the lid open in a swift lever motion. “Weird that you’d have such a fixation on him. Got a crush, Redline?”

I went slack jawed, brows furrowing, “No! Y’fuckin’ idiot! Why the hell would Ah have a crush on him??”

“I dunno.” Fizzle chimes in, copying Prim, to the best of her ability anyway. She’s struggling with peeling open the can. “He sounds pretty awesome. Speaking of awesome! I would love to hear any songs about you!” The portly pony pokes me with one of her hind legs. “Surely there’s plenty written about you!”

Looking over at Prim, I raise a brow. She shoots me a knowing glance. “Almost any folklore about The Redline is… horrifying. Seeing you clean through wasters, ghouls, and mutants alike- especially now up close, has taught me just how correct those stories are.”

“Yeah, right, like you couriers are any better.” My snout wrinkles, and I set the guitar aside.

Staring daggers at me, Prim pauses. Her gaze softens for a mere moment, before stiffening up again. “Touche.”

“Well!” Fizzle interrupts the awkward silence. “We visited Ditzy Doo’s little med shop, and it turns out she sells more than just meds.” Opening her bag, she reveals a bunch of assorted drugs. Hard narcotics. And a few stimpaks. “Picked you up some more goods while we were there, figured you could use extra, just in case.”

“That’s… awful considerate of ya, Fizzle. Thanks.” I didn’t really know what to say. It was odd that she was so willing to give me what I needed. Either way, I wasn’t going to protest. “Y’all should get some rest, girls. Somethin’ tells me you’ll need it.”

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Traveling with the Stranger isn’t quite as bad as one might think. He’s oddly… benevolent, and somewhat lighthearted, despite the haunting aura of annihilation he carries. We sat together in front of a fire, silent, the sound of the wood crackling and popping. The sky was decently visible, the stars above, with the chirping of insects audible. I wanted to feel more comfortable around him. Move past the fear. “You got a name, Mister Stranger? Feel kinda bad, y’know. Having been on the road now a few days, and I don’t even really know your name.”

He glances up, reaching for his stetson. He pulls it off, yet the shadows don’t retreat from his face, at least not mostly. I can see his snout now, pale as death, as well as the outline of his long, messy, swept-back mane. At the moment, only one of his eyes are lit up, the left, the right side of his face completely shrouded in darkness. “Y’ain’t gettin mah name. Not as it stands right now, anyways.”

“Fair enough. Guess I still have to prove my trustworthiness to you.” I rub my forehooves together, glancing down at the fire. “So… uh, Yellowcake. Why do you care about her?”

“Could ask you the same question, boy.” Pulling a cigarette from his coat, he places it on his white lips. I see his teeth for a moment. Assorted gold teeth with his naturally yellow set. Pressing a hoof against the end of the cigarette, it lights with a green flame. “Ah know she’s on yer mind too.” He puffs, blowing smoke out of his nostrils like a dragon. “Ah’ve been stuck on tryin’ ta figure out why, though. So Ah’m gonna ask ya. Why do ya care so much about Yellowcake?”

That was a weird, no, hard question to answer. I guess I never really figured how I’d verbalize it. Taking a deep breath, I focused on that feeling I had when I was with her. Maybe if I just spoke with that feeling inside of me, the words would simply follow. My subconscious would become conscious. “She represents an escape for me.” I shrug, “Ever since I was a colt, I’ve been looking for some way to get out of the Rusteaters. They’re… all so inconsiderate. So self-centered. Psychotic and maniacal. So much so, it sort of left a stain on me.” Clapping my forehooves, I run my tongue along the back of my top row of teeth. “I don’t want to be a monster. I say I’m afraid of you. Afraid of death. But I don’t know if I am. I’m afraid of being unloved. Being discarded because of my nature. Everypony says I have a heart of gold; but the truth is that I’ve always been a monster with the heart of a stallion. If I accept the crown I’m given, I’ll be no better than my dad.” Leaning down, I rub the left side of my forehead with a hoof. “I only hope I’m right, that Cake is my gateway to being… something better.”

He stares me down for a few moments, taking a few drags of his cigarette, before he nods. “Awful sappy fer a ‘Raider Prince’.” He lets out a long, wheezy chuckle.

“Oh, fuck right off.” I scoff, shaking my head. “You’re the one who sat through it though. What’s that say about you?”

Laughing a little bit more, he eventually settles down. “Mmm… Ah’m kiddin’. Yer a sweet kid.” He takes another drag from his cigarette, before locking eyes with me again. “Yellowcake is… important. Unique. As it stands, so long as she’s alive, Equestria has both everything to gain, and everything to lose. Her talent’s what makes ‘er so vital.” He takes another puff, blowing a thick cloud. Smoke and shadow. “Why’d she leave the Stable?”

I think about it for a moment, “When I asked, she told me she’s looking for her dad. Assuming she’s not lying, of course.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the scar on my face pang. “Wonder if she’s been successful yet. If the bastard’s not dead, maybe I’ll work for him. Said his name was Texas Hold ‘Em.”

There’s hesitation in his eyes. A reluctance that freezes his whole body. His snout wrinkles for a moment, before he lets out a gnarly cough, tossing his cig in the fire. “Get some rest, son. Our days start early and end late.”

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Willow more or less refused to leave me to heal on my own. Instead, she was constantly monitoring me, making sure my bruises and cuts were tended to. It was strange, she was so attentive, she cared so much when she knew almost nothing about me. We sat on the northern end of Macintosh bridge, in near complete darkness. We found a little toll booth, sharing the tiny space. Eating whatever prepared food we had on hoof, which happened to be cans of processed meat. I was tired. Physically, sure. But mentally? I was exhausted. I wanted to go back to the Stable, but at this point I knew it’d be a worthless effort.

“Thinking about going home?” Willow interrupts the silence, pushing at her canned portion questionably.

My ears pricked up, and I glared at her, brows becoming stern. “How the fuck did you know I was thinking about that?”

She freezes for a moment, staring back at me with her shrunken eyes. “I can read ponies pretty well. No, not pretty well.” Cocking her head, she chuckles, “Perfectly. All of them. Like a library.” She wiggles a hoof, “There’s also a magical aspect, but… that’s info for later.”

“Uh, no. That’s info for now.” I point at her. “What magic?”

Sighing, one of her brows twitches. “Remember back in Foaledo? When you absorbed the magic in that fusion core? I siphoned the euphoria you were radiating. That high feeling. It keeps me young. Empowers me. Keeps me healthy.” Reaching into her cloak, she tosses something at me. I flinch, pressing my back against the wall more as I move away slightly. Then, I look at the floor, where the object landed. A tube of apple sauce. Cinnamon flavor. “Part of that magic means I know ponies. Pieces of them they don’t vocally share all that often. Favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite textures. Vices. Compulsions.” Holding a hoof above her head, she continues. “I can’t quite read thoughts, but I can tug on threads. Surface information, present ideas.”

I didn’t really know what to say. How long was she reading my mind without saying anything? Is that why I felt so comfortable around her? Did she hypnotize me? Maybe she’s some kind of siren, I didn’t know. Maybe she was hiding her true form. “Yes, I’ve been… considering going back. But I’m just tired. I’ve been through so much, and I’ve only been on the surface like a month.” I shrug, picking up the tube and tearing open the package. “Why do you care?”

She crosses her forelegs, cocking her head to the side. “You’re special, Cake. You’re smart, you’re headstrong, and you’ve got an ability that can reshape the wastes.” She gives an odd, reassuring smile. “Honey, I don’t have a lot of experience with Stable Dwellers that choose to leave. But… from the ones I have met, you’re far more brave than any of them were. Well, most of them.” Willow takes a deep breath, “It would be a waste of your talents to stay in that Stable. A waste of you. The whole of you.”

Chuckling, I push some of the slurry through the tube, swishing it around to savor the flavor. “How would you know any of that for certain? We’re strangers.”

“Maybe now we are.” She replies, sighing, “I have a feeling it won’t be that way for long.” Taking off her stetson, she lays on the floor, covering her eyes with the hat. “Make sure you get some rest, sweetie. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day. Any day in Whinnyapolis is bound to be an exhausting one.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bars of light scanned across my face as I descended deep into the guts of home base. My right forehoof tapped the metal tiles of the elevator impatiently. The only thing I could hear in this fucking helmet was my own breathing, my own thoughts. That, and the sound of the base creaking and shifting around me. After what felt like an hour, the doors finally opened, revealing a long, well lit hallway. I moved forward, taking a deep breath as I pressed towards a pair of doors all the way at the end. The left door had two alicorns, one with a sun at the tip of their horn, the other with the moon. Matching the left door, the alicorns had different symbols at the end of their horns on the right side. A heart and a six-pointed star.

I pushed through the doors, revealing a lavish office space, the back most wall a complete glass pane. There were scribblings all over it in marker. Equations, coordinates, names, places. Beyond the glass was a vast, infinite abyss. The ocean. Standing in front of the pane was a single figure. A baby blue pegasus with a long, silky white mane. Her eyes were golden, with sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones. I stand at attention, unfurling one of my wings and saluting. She looks at me through the reflection in the glass. “At ease.” I follow her order, going back to a relaxed position. “Is what the Reconnaissance and Tracking team saying correct? We have not just one, but three high-values moving on the surface?”

“Yes Ma’am.” I reply, nodding my head. “They’re separated, but it appears two HVTs will converge within the next 48 hours. As for the last? It’s hard to say. It might be another dud sighting.”

Her ears flick. “Do you think it’s a dud sighting?”

I hesitate for a moment, “Observed appearance matches precursive records of a Red Herring.”

“Where are the targets converging?” She finally turns around, furrowing her brows.

“Whinnyapolis, Director, ma’am.” Responding, I glance down, avoiding eye contact.

“Fuck.” She hisses venomously, “They’re headed straight for The Mechanist.” The pegasus grinds her teeth.

“Director, if I may?” I try to interrupt her display of anger and dissatisfaction. “I don’t know if you were informed, I’m going to guess not, considering your general reaction. But… HVT Alpha is subject Gamma-87.”

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to me, widened, near bursting from her skull. “She’s outside of her Stable??”

“Yes ma’am.” I nod.

“This changes everything…” She looks down at the floor for a moment, before whipping her attention back to me. “I will prepare the labs for Project Purification. You will go to Stable 27 and lure her out. I don’t care if it takes weeks, months, hell, YEARS! You will draw her out and bring her home.” The back of my skull screamed, a lonely little voice crying not to go. My heart rate raised slightly, and my left eye twitched. The Director raised her head. “Have you been taking your suppressants?” Her tone is soft, but cold.

I grit my teeth, still looking down. “Yes ma’am, I have.”

“Look at me.” She points a hoof to her face. I hesitate, but I follow her directions. At least lifting my head. “Take that helmet off. I want eye contact.” I press the release on my helmet. It hisses as the pressure is relieved, and I slide it off. Taking a shaky breath, I reluctantly locked eyes with her. “Have you been taking your suppressants?”

Clawing at the rear of my brain. My right forehoof started tapping nervously on the carpeted floor. “I’m… late on my nightly injection.” I could see my reflection behind her. My frigid blue coat, my pushed back, messy, violet mane with a pale amber strip of color, and my glowing balefire eyes, blazing with power. For whatever reason, I never liked it. It always seemed wrong. Especially my oddly shaped horn, and my unfathomably useless wings. “I apologize.”

“Keep your emotions in check. I won’t tell you again. Next time, I’ll just stick a rod in your brain to make it easier.” She turns around. “Take your unit and occupy Stable 27. I expect a full report in two days time. Not a moment more.”

“Of course, ma’am.” I pull my helmet back on, making for the exit.

“Oh, and Darkstar.” She addresses me by name. A rarity, all things considered. This must be important. I look over my shoulder, waiting for the followup. “Do avoid the Prince.”

I raise a brow, “You think a half-blind ex-unicorn can possibly put up a fight against me?”

“He’s stronger than you think.” She replies, glancing over at me. “Stronger than he thinks.”