• Published 4th Mar 2013
  • 3,564 Views, 149 Comments

Fallout: Equestria - Change - MetalGearSamus



A single Changeling has awoken to a Wasteland full of horrors. Now, unprepared and unaided except for an unknown voice in his head, he must survive the Wasteland and find love in a land filled with hate.

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Chapter 7: Red

“You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen.”

The waking world greeted me with harsh words and a hard kick to the gut.

“Rise and shine, you fucking bug!” Tumbleweed jeered. I coughed, rolling away from him with a groan. I felt another bomb collar around my neck. "Get up! The day's getting old."

I struggled to my feet. The ache in my body had lessened but it was still hard to fight through. I looked for Rolling, and my heart sunk when I found him. He was also in a collar, stripped of his bags and rifle with a trickle of blood drying on this forehead. Holster stood guard near him, as Tumbleweed was doing to me. Tumbleweed... he was smiling at me, jittery, with bags under his eyes, and obviously overjoyed. A deep scar ran across the right side of his neck, a pattern of twisting, burnt flesh. I wondered briefly where that had come from, but the bigger question on my mind was how to escape.

We hadn't moved since I passed out, and I saw Hairpins staring down the disarmed mob around us, her teeth on her battle saddle's bit. Cobb was at their front, speaking quietly to Boss. A bubble was around them; whether by fear or authority, nopony dared approach. I waited anxiously, flinching at a few feints from Tumbleweed. He laughed. I was a bit shocked at his sadism—though I guess I had left him for dead. That fact did not stop me from resenting him, though. Him, Boss, and the rest of these slaving scum.

“Tumble!” Boss shouted. He was apparently done with his conversation with Cobb. “Stop fuckin’ around and get them to the wagon.”

Tumbleweed pushed me forward, away from the shanty town. Hairpins did the same to Rolling, though more gently. I saw nothing but scowls from the ponies around us, but none of them moved to stop the slavers. “Help us!” I cried. I tried to catch Cobb’s eye—surely he wouldn’t let them just take us—but he merely grimaced, throwing a sorrowful look towards Rolling.

“Let them try,” Boss taunted, “I’ve still got a quota to fill after what you did.” A mumble went through the crowd around us, and the ponies slowly scattered. I lowered my head in defeat.

* * * * *

“Hey Boss, check out this beauty!” Holster held up the letter opener I’d found. The rest of my belongings were scattered on the ground in front of him, along with my saddlebags.

“Hey!’ shouted Tumbleweed, “Those are my bags." He scooped them up and snatched the small knife from Holster's hoof. "And so is this."

"Says who?"

"Says me." Tumbleweed threw everything back into the bags, turning back to me with a glare. "I figure I deserve it after all this fucker put me through."

We were near the corner of Maize, where the slave wagon was parked far from any onlookers. Fishhooks was here as well, but no other slavers. She had been watching over the buck that had attacked me the night I'd freed him. He had greeted me with a look that was at once triumphant and resentful. I did my best to ignore him as all three of us stood there, waiting for our captors to set out.

"Oh stop yer whinin'," Hairpins drawled. "Ah nearly been lynched dozens a’ times but ya don't see me askin' fer special treatment." Lynched? Why would he have been—? Oh. He must have wandered into Chard after he woke up. That explained the scar.

"...that’s bullshit." Tumbleweed muttered.

"Nah, jus’ hyperbole, but mah point still stands."

"I saved your life anyway," I interjected. "Bright Lights would have killed you." At the mention of that pony, Tumbleweed's eyes widened. He choked on his response for just a moment.

"Fuck you, bug!" he said, “Who said you could talk?”

"Enough," said Boss. He had been fiddling with something inside the wagon, but was done now and had hopped onto its top. "It's already late, we need to start moving. Fishie, you're pulling. Holster and Tumble, get some rest. Changeling, if I so much has hear you cast a spell I’ll cave your friend’s head." I drew in a sharp breath. Boss was staring down at me with hateful eyes. The cloth he was wearing looked somehow even more shredded and dirty than before.

I struggled to keep my expression neutral. He was threatening Rolling? My savior? I felt a burning inside, mixed up with a horrible helplessness. I imagined the feeling of his neck breaking between my jaws; the taste. Hair and hot blood and dirty skin—a putrid taste. At the same time, I feared for Rolling. Feared for him laying bloody on the ground and me no better off for it. I desperately wanted out of this situation—I needed to go after New Canterlot; its prince; its love—but I owed him my life. It would be easy to slip out of this collar again. Easy and quick enough to do while Boss was asleep, but I could not save Rolling from whomever would be guarding us.

I lowered my gaze, and nodded.

“Alright, Fishie, let’s get moving,” Boss said.

We fell into step behind the wagon, Hairpins at our rear. Rolling walked at my side, while that yellow buck plodded on behind us.

My chest was full of butterflies, and they would not go away. This was the worst thing that could have happened. Boss. I never thought I’d run into him again after that night—I’d never considered it, really. That he might know about me, sure—I had no doubt that he’d interrogated the yellow buck—but for him to pick me out of a crowd, when I was disguised as some random drunk... I squeezed my eyes shut. That should have been impossible! This shouldn’t be happening.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, staring at the ground. “This is all my fault.”

That was the worst of it, that I’d dragged Rolling into it. The only one in the whole world I could call a friend, and I’d helped put him into a bomb collar again.

He bumped me with a hoof, forcing my gaze up. He looked at me with determined eyes, and shook his head. I got no good feelings from him, but at least he didn’t hate me. I nodded sheepishly, and went back to the ground.

I had no idea where Boss was taking us. We were going south, far south, and though it was getting dark part of me doubted we would be stopping very soon. Boss was fidgety, and the whole party seemed anxious. Hairpins hardly talked as we walked.

* * * * *

The night was cold. I shivered as I pressed up against Rolling, once again grateful for his presence. I could hear that yellow buck's teeth chattering behind us. We had been marching nonstop for hours now. Hairpins and Fishhooks had finished with their guard shifts some time ago, and were now sleeping in the wagon. Tumbleweed was now behind us, while Holster was pulling. He had rolled his neck and stretched his back when he'd first stepped out, cursing under his breath. Sleeping in a cramped compartment had not improved his attitude toward me.

"Fucking bug," I heard him whisper, "We couldda been done with this shit by now... too fucking cold out... fucking bug..."

Boss was somehow still awake on the top of the wagon. He had been staring down at me whenever I looked up, his eyes still red and tired. He had said only one thing since we set off.

"Changeling, you can turn yourself into anypony you want? Anypony at all?"

"Yes," I replied.

* * * * *

We stopped after a while, and though it was pitch black I realized that we were in the city Rolling and I had visited earlier. The outline of the police station tipped me off. They boarded us up in a storage room of an old grocery store, with Hairpins standing guard, but it was wasted effort. I was too sleepy to even think of fighting back now. I had been struggling to even walk straight, and my eyes felt like lead. I curled up on the ground the moment they pushed us in there. I would rest now. Fight later. I was too tired to even try to think of a plan.

* * * * *

They did not let us sleep for long. It was barely dawn when they hauled us back out, and there was a thin fog to the north. We got some of the cans Rolling and I had scavenged to eat and time to relieve ourselves, but we were hurried along all the way. Boss growled at us to pick up the pace, and we continued on.

Bulbs. After too many hours of walking we neared the city. Smoke curled up into the clouds from between its hills, and as we came closer I saw that it came from the Plantation. Or what was left of it. It’s gate and much of the bordering fence had been toppled over, along with a great many of the watchtowers. I couldn’t tell what damage had been done to the crops, but the smoke came from its buildings, and I could see that the slave quarters had been completely demolished. I made out a few forms wandering through the area, as well as ponies going to and from Bulbs, but more details than that I was not able to see.

The flag of New Canterlot hung from the Facility's roof, its steel sun still rising. Everyone but Holster, who was pulling the wagon, stared at it in silence as we passed by. I looked up at Boss, and saw him transfixed, his normally tired-but-stoic demeanor broken down by surprise. He glanced down at me once it had moved out of sight.

"Why are you scared of them?" I asked.

"What's it to you?"

"I'm curious."

"Be glad you're not dead. The only thing you should be curious about any more is whether your back, legs, or ass will give out first once we sell you."

"My what? What's—?"

"Shut up!" he snapped, "I hate that fucking bug voice you've got."

I lowered my head again, and I noticed Rolling giving me a concerned look. I raised an eyebrow, but he just looked away. Behind us I heard Hairpins mutter,

"We hoped t' be done with this long b'fore th' NCs moved out. They don't take kindly t' slavers."

That... that was just more confusing. How would these ponies know about what the NCs were planning?

* * * * *

After a full day of walking and an actual night's rest, we arrived at our destination. The mountains loomed here, bringing back memories of my first day and all the mysteries that had greeted me. Of all the things, I found myself wondering about those dead pegasi. I'd forgotten about them.

We were on a dirt road now, another dead field surrounding us. The land jutted up into hills that cut into our path like a pair of arms extended for an embrace. A gate’s remnants were set between them, rusted scraps sticking out of the cut rock. As we passed through them I craned my neck to see what was in front of us. There was a large building, similar to the facilities, but with a side that looked like it had actually been presentable at one time. There was a set of stairs, leading up to an old pair of double doors, and a terrace above them. Painted there were the faded letters, "P ... N ... ... W I N E ... Y, " but what I noticed more was the creature who was standing there. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Bigger than any pony, as we neared I could see that it was covered in black feathers and had a beak as large as my head. It watched us as we approached, a dark red ember around both its eyes.

Griffin.

Griffin. I remembered now. They had been warriors from the start, obsessed with their honor. Another was waiting for us at the front, his coat white and brown. He gripped a small canon in his right hand, and waved us to the side of the building with it. Our convoy followed him, and we entered through a small door that was hidden there. The wagon was left outside, and the three of us slaves were shuffled in. Two more griffins greeted us inside, each with similar color schemes to the one who had ushered us in. They were standing around a small table, holding dirty cards above a pile of caps.

"Ah! Fuckin' finally, some business!" one of them cried, setting his hand down and lumbering toward us, "How many you got for us, pony?"

"Three," Boss said.

"Three? Fuck, man that's it? And what the fuck is that thing?" He lowered himself toward me, one of his wide, silvery eyes examining me intensely. “Looks like one of those bat-freaks.”

“It’s a Changeling,” Boss said, “That thing’s the reason I only brought three. He freed the others I was bringing.”

“Well shit, that’s not our problem. I don’t know if we want to buy only three...” He glanced back at his partner at the table, who shrugged his shoulders, still looking at his cards. “I’ll have to go check our stock. I’ll give you six hundred per head if I see we need ‘em that bad.” He turned to leave.

“Hold on,” Boss said, “That Changeling is worth at least three times a normal pony.”

I’m inclined to agree with him on that point.

“Pff. What? Why?”

Boss turned to me, his weapon hanging in the air beside Rolling’s head. “Show them,” he said. I glared at him, but triggered my magic. Now I was a perfect copy of him. He gave a short chuckle, but them smacked me with a hoof. “Funny. Show them some others.” I did, my face burning. Boysen, Cobb, Hairpins, Tumbleweed. He stopped me in that last form, turning back to the griffin.

“From what I hear, Red Eye is working all the slaves he’s getting to something grand. A creature like this would be a boon to someone like him. And it’s one of a kind, surely worth more than any group of tired ponies.”

“Ha, right, like you’d know, pony. Red Eye’s work is just work. It doesn’t matter if it flies, swims, or shoots magic out of its butt—so long as it can be worked to death it will.”

“Hey man, I can think of some good uses for it,” the griffin at the table commented. His companion dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes.

“Ignore him. We’re not interested in what other abilities your slaves might have. We’ll give you six-hundred a head, we don’t care what it looks like.”

Beside me I could see both Rolling and the yellow buck scowling at our captors. My own hatred was stewing inside me. I wanted to move. To run. To kill these people who were talking about me like property and go after what I still craved. It had been only a day since I last tasted a good feeling, but already the hunger was pushing at the edges of my mind. Feed, it said, kill and feed!

“Bullshit,” replied Boss, “That pony has done nothing but ask for slaves for the last howeverthefuck long. You’ve heard all the rumors around him, there’s no way he couldn’t use something like this.”

“Look, pony,” the griffin said, jabbing a claw into Boss’s chest, “Red Eye asked us for workers, and that’s what we provide. We don’t care what he does with them after we deliver. You should be glad we even stick around here to buy your measly load—there’s hardly enough traffic anymore to justify an outpost like this.”

"Bull—!"

“Six-hundred a head, take it or leave it. That’s our final offer.” The two monsters glared at each other. The griffin at the table had a hand on his gun.

“Eighteen-hundred...” said Tumbleweed.

“That ain’t enough... that’s barely enough fer two... ” Hairpins muttered.

Boss grit his teeth, eyes still locked with the griffin. “I know,” he said, “But... that’s about two less than three.” The griffin raised an eyebrow. I didn’t catch what prompted it.

Boss turned around, facing us and his companions. Without another word he triggered his magic, and Hairpins and Tumbleweed collapsed to the floor, a red aura surrounding each. They gasped once and fell into a silent struggle. I saw Tumbleweed’s face burning with rage as he strained to raise his head, but Hairpins just fell still after a few twitches, expression frozen in shock. Fishhooks gasped, eyes wide.

“Boss what the fuck!?” Holster shouted, backing away. I saw him go for his weapon, but Boss shouted him down.

“Don’t be an idiot, Holster! I’m not staying around here any fucking longer, you can come with us or not, I don’t fucking care, but don’t even think about getting bitchy just because you like some ponies as slaves but not others.” Holster swallowed, looking at his former companions. He nodded in agreement, but tore himself away and trotted out the way we had come, pushing past the griffin still standing there. Fishhooks stood still, looking at Boss like she’d never seen him before.

“Pins...” I heard her whisper.

By now the griffins had moved to disarm the two helpless ponies, and Boss released his hold on them. They gasped, as desperate for breath as I had been, and the griffin who had been at the table kept them pinned to the ground, his hands on their necks. He was grinning as he stood over them.

“You fucker...” Tumbleweed croaked.

“Five for three thousand,” Boss said, turning back to the first griffin.

He smiled. “We have a deal.”

* * * * *

“Ah can’t b’lieve this...” Hairpins said.

We were together now, all of us except the yellow buck, trapped at the bottom of an old fermentation tank. There were about a dozen of them in the room we were in, all silvery and stained. The room was two stories of open space, and it had a catwalk that lined the walls and cut across the middle row of tanks, giving access to the tops of all of them. We had been flown up above one and dropped in unceremoniously, landing on a grid that had been placed a few feet below the top. The reek of past slaves had slammed into me, and I vomited, retching for a while after the little food that had been in my stomach was gone. When I recovered, wiping the tears from my eyes, I saw that the others had had the same reaction. I had heard a few splashes in the space below us. We had sat in sickened silence since then, me and Rolling on one side, Tumbleweed and Hairpins on the other. A few voices echoed up from the other tanks, but they were shouted down by the one griffin that had remained to guard the room. I wouldn’t have replied anyway, I was too busy staring down Tumbleweed while trying not to breathe through my nose.

“Really?” I asked, finally breaking away, “You can’t believe a slaver enslaved you?”

“Hey fuck you, bug,” Tumbleweed sneered, “If it weren’t for you we would have had the right head count for all of us!” Rolling took a step forward in response.

“Tumble!” Hairpins snapped, putting a hoof in front of his chest, “Drop it already. We got bigger things t’ worry ‘bout than what’s good an’ done.”

“Drop it? That thing nearly got me killed—”

“Ah know, Tumble—I know! Ah was scared t’ death of what might have happened t’ you after we figured out what happened that night. Ah was as pissed at that changeling as you were, but that ain’t gunna help us right now. We need t’ figure some way outta this an’ then shoot that fucker in th’ back.” She huffed, flaring her nostrils despite the smell. Tumbleweed relented with a stifled sigh. “Ah still can’t b’lieve he did that, though.”

Really?” I repeated.

“Hey now,” Hairpins said, putting a hoof up to calm me, “Ah don’t claim t’ have any moral integrity, but there are some lines ah don’t tolerate being crossed. Ah’ll carry slaves if ah need th’ caps, but ah won’t break ‘em, and when ah make a deal with somepony ah expect ‘em t’ carry through. Not betray their friends like we’re nothin’ to ‘em.”

I scoffed at that, but the intake of breath sent a rush of rankness through my senses, and I was reduced to a retching heap for a few more embarrassing moments. We were essentially sitting atop an open septic tank, and I doubted these griffins had ever bothered to clean them. Rolling gave me a sympathetic pat on the back, but I could tell he was as nauseated as I was.

Hairpins kept talking, trying to think of a plan with Tumbleweed. Rolling seemed to be paying attention, but I didn’t listen. I had my own plan—essentially the same one I’d had at Garlic’s Plantation. I’d already wriggled out of the collar the moment our escorts had left, all I needed now was a moment to fly out of here unnoticed. I’d kill the griffins, free the slaves, and then escape with Rolling. It’d be perfect. This time I’d be the hero. I’d save my savior.

I waited quietly, trying to separate myself from the stench around us and the grime beneath my hooves.

* * * * *

My opportunity came when one of the griffins shouted for lunch. I figured they would switch shifts, but this was even better. I waited for the clanging of paws on metal to fade away before I made my move. “I’ll be back for you,” I whispered to Rolling. I leaped up and flapped my way out of the tank.

“Hey! What are you doing?” cried Tumbleweed. Hairpins shushed him before I could respond, and I floated down onto the catwalk as daintily as I could. I breathed deeply, thankful for this musty air, and turned to find a way out of this room. The sound of another claw on metal stopped me cold, and I spun around to it. I saw the front half of the black griffin, the one with the red around his eyes, coming down a set of stairs that must have lead to the balcony. I was near one of the walls, and he was looking directly down the central catwalk, but I dived for cover just the same. I rolled off the side and hovered behind the tank I had just come from, but I made too much noise. His eyes darted toward my position, and without a world he leaped into the air, crossing the space with a single flap. He landed on the catwalk above me, and peaked into the tank. He was going to see I was gone. I braced myself against the wall.

“What was that noi—?” I rammed into his head, sending him staggering. He balanced himself easily, but I didn’t give him time to retaliate. I divebombed him, smashing his head against the catwalk with my entire body. I scrambled back to my feet, but the attack had worked. His fingers twitched slightly, but he was undoubtedly unconscious; no one would be able to stand having their arm bent underneath them like that.

I leaned over his neck to finish the job, but a thought stopped me. What if—? No, that was crazy, they were too different from ponies. Except... I remembered my vision, the latest one. Griffins, Zebras, Ponies, we had tried all three, or at least thought of it. If I could disguise as this one...

We can’t su—

I dragged his body back to the tank, straining to pull it over the railing. “Look out... below,” I grunted, managing to get his center of mass into open air. I saw the three of them back toward the sides a moment before he toppled in and landed with a loud thunk. I cringed at the sound, but it hadn’t been any louder than the crash when I attacked him. “Keep him down, but don’t kill him,” I said, before darting off to the middle walkway.

“What—?” I didn’t wait to explain to Hairpins. I landed near a door, opposite the one the griffin had come from. It lead down a hallway, where laughter and a muffled conversation echoed down to me. I took another deep breath, smelling the faint hint of cooked meat. Alright, time to do this. It was good this griffin was so distinct from the others, I could picture him easily in my mind. I triggered my magic, still focused on that image. I felt it working, slowly. The spell was beginning to cast, but I had to force it to completion. I grunted. My horn was overwhelmed with its magical aura by the time green flames transformed my body.

It was a mistake. The feeling hit me like a tempest.

All I felt was hunger. Physical, real, hunger—hunger like I had never known washed over my body. My new form shook, so weak I could barely stand, even on all fours. My heart was racing, my breath coming in gasps. Food. I needed food. I lumbered forward blindly, that faint scent suddenly the only thing I could focus on. My waking moments were nothing compared to this. I felt myself dying. Food. There were spots in my eyes. Black specks that popped in and out. I blinked rapidly to clear them, but they did not leave. Still hunger roared in my mind. I needed to feed. Feed on something. Anything. Everything. Now. Feed. I needed to feed. All other thoughts left me.

The griffins had called for lunch. They would have food.

I stumbled down the hallway. Through a door. I salivated as I took in the smell. Meat. Food. The black spots were everywhere. They blotted out the others at the table. My vision was washed over with red.

“Sev! What took you so—whoa, you feelin’ alright, Sev? You don’t look so good.”

“Hungry,” I gasped, lunging forward. All I could see was red. Red and spots. The smell was all I could feel. The smell then the taste. Meat on the table. Meat in my hands. I ripped it apart, feeling strength return with each mouthful. Red. It was succulent and tough and I choked it down, grabbing for more the moment my hands were empty. The juices ran down my claws and chest, the black of my feathers absorbing the stain. Red. I hardly tasted I was so overwhelmed, but it tasted so good. Still all I saw was red. Food. Meat. Red.

I ate and ate, until there were only bones, and only then did my vision return.

The griffins were staring at me. There were seven here, one with half an apron on and a chef's hat so small that it barely supported itself on his head. I panted, swallowing down the taste of the meat. That taste! I licked my beak, savoring it.

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” This voice was deep. Frighteningly deep.

One of them laughed. “Celestia, Sev, just tell us if yer starving next time.” The others laughed too. They had their own portions in front of them, and went back to eating. The chef shook his head in disbelieve.

I sighed. That had been too close. I had lost my mind. I’d been completely unable to think of anything but food. In fact, I was still hungry, even after eating almost a whole—

Pony. The bones lay in front of me, bits of cooked muscle still clinging to them. Almost everything but the skull and hooves had been placed here to be stripped down, and I had done it within only a few minutes. Patches of Cutie Marks were nailed to the walls as decoration.

I might have gotten sick again, but my stomach was already emptied. Flesh engorged to support this new body. I did my best to appear calm, sitting quietly at the end of the table. Around me the griffins talked, but I didn’t listen. Instead I focused on breathing, and tested out my hands quietly underneath the table, clenching and unclenching them. Moving each digit; feeling what it could do. It was a captivating new experience, one that helped me not to think about what I’d just done. I needn’t think about it. I just had to kill these griffins and leave. Seven against one. I could do it. I had the element of surprise.

Yet still I was hungry. My stomach gurgled in want. I swallowed the excess saliva in my mouth, unable to move. The others were finishing up their portions, talking and laughing. One of them said something about Red Eye. Something about a contract. The others laughed spitefully. I joined in instinctively. Suddenly, one of them slapped me on the back, asking if I wanted to try out the new ride. I didn’t understand. I smiled, and said no. I needed to get back to guarding, I told him. I didn’t trust that red bastard not to try something.

“I’ll go with ya’, Luci,” one of the others said as I got up from the table. “I’ve been needin’ it all day.”

It was a mistake.

I stepped back out, and went back down the hallway. I still felt weak. With another flash of green I was back to my normal self, and I retreated to the tank room, unsure of what to do. I looked around, aware that I had very little time to work. I ignored the sick feeling in my gut and tried to think of something. I needed to pick them off, one by one, but I couldn’t sustain my disguise as Sev. I didn’t have the body mass, I realized. My muscles had been too stretched, my blood too thin. I now knew the limits of my powers were physical. I hid around the corner as Luci and the other griffin stepped out. They were the ones who had been playing cards. Luci was the one who had stayed at the table.

They walked down casually to the end of the hallway, and went through a door. I caught a glimpse of stairs. Two of them. Could I take two? I would have to. All the others were still at the table. I doubted they would stay there for too long, and once they went back to their posts my chances of going unnoticed would drop to nothing.

I fluttered down to the first level in the tank room. It was dark; barely any light filtered down at all. There was a wide arch here separating this room from the next. Well, not really separating, more like just distinguishing. In this room were a bunch of old barrel racks. Most still had rotted wood clinging to them. I worked my way through, opened the door on the other end, and found a hallway that paralleled the one above me. I caught the griffins going into a room on the right, and I quietly followed. I burped, tasting meat, and shuddered. Luckily the door was shut, and they did not hear it.

‘Showers,’ was written above it. I heard one of them cackle, and the sound, something in the cruelty of it, set me on edge. I risked another transformation, and turned the handle. I’d catch them by surprise. Surprise always helped me.

“See, Gave, this—”

The room was dark. A single bulb cast a faint glow across it, but that was enough to see. The place was lined with dirty tiles, three stalls set in each side, and a few lockers on the walls near the door. Nothing from the old world remained. Four rods had been driven into the floor’s center, and to each a metal chain had been connected. Shackles were fused to their other ends, and bound in them was a dirty yellow pegasus. Her hair might once have been white, but it was caked with grime and dust. Her Cutie Mark was a pair of splayed blue wings. Luci was bent over her, one hand pressing her head down while the other gripped her back leg. He turned back to me as I entered with a slick smile on his face.

“Ah, change yer mind, Sev? This one’s good. She’s got wings, man, wings.” He pulled one of them out to show me, rubbing the tip of it between his claws. “You know how long I’ve been wanting something with wings?” The mare underneath him let out a sob, and the other griffin laughed.

I felt cold. For some reason I had thought I’d seen the worst the Wasteland could do to people.

I lunged for Gave first, slashing at his eye with a claw. He squawked in shock and pain, and I drove my beak into his neck before he could raise a hand to push me away.

“What the fuck?” Luci grabbed me from behind, pulling me off and tossing me toward the ground. I undisguised mid-toss, and caught myself in the air with a flap, making Luci lose his hold and stumble forward. I dived at him, but he was faster than his companion had been. He slapped me down, and I rolled to my feet, barring my fangs on recovery. “What the fuck...” He stepped back, reaching for the gun that was holstered at his side, and I lunged at him. He brought it up, but I was already inside his range. He tried to grab me with his other hand, but I deflected it with my hooves. I slammed into his torso, and we fell back. His arms grabbed me by the side, and I felt claws cut me, but not deep. I bit down, tasting feathers more than flesh, and ripped my fangs out as I felt him squeeze me. Blood spurted up, and I felt his grip loosen. I bit down again, and kept pushing till I heard something snap. I let go, panting, and did the same to Gave. Just to be sure.

A feather was stuck to my face. I wiped it off, but that just spread the blood around.

“Are you okay?” I asked the mare. I was not getting any gratitude from her. I turned around. Her eyes were wide, pupils reduced to pinpricks, and she was struggling against her bonds, trying to get away from me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said, taking a step forward. She screamed, her struggle increasing. “I—” I stopped, and disguised as Boysenberry. “Is this better?” She kept on trying to back up. I frowned.

“I won’t hurt you,” I repeated.

Fool. This room is a nightmare.

I stepped back, looking at her bonds. There were locks in each of them. I glanced back at the bodies. Maybe?... I searched them, and got lucky. Luci had the key. I approached the mare cautiously, making sure she could see it in my mouth. She kept staring at me with those terrified eyes.

“I’m going to free you,” I said. “I won’t hurt you.”

I bent down to unlock the shackles; but again she flinched from me. I stopped, and placed the key on the floor within her reach. I huffed and turned around, stepping over the bodies. I couldn't waste more time. I needed to kill those other griffins before they found me. I dropped my disguise again.

"Wait." Her voice was harsh, dry. She sounded parched. "What's your name?"

I almost said I didn't know, but that felt like a bad answer. Pitch was right. I needed to think of one for myself. A real name. I needed something better than Changeling.

"My name’s... Worker," I said. She laughed, croaking.

"What kind of name is that?"

“Mine. It’s all I could think of.”

There was a drip from somewhere. Water leaking through the walls of this old building. The mare stretched out a wing toward the key, picking it up between her feathers like they were fingers. I raised an eyebrow as she manipulated the lock, furrowing her brow as she twisted the key around between her wings. She was amazingly dexterous with them. The locks snapped off one by one, and she jumped away from them. She let the key drop onto the floor, and pressed her wings to her sides. She stared at me, still wary.

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“Surprise.” This time I laughed.

“What so funny? That’s a real name.”

“Sorry. I just... wasn’t expecting that.”

The water kept dripping. Surprise shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting from the bodies to the door. I felt their blood pooling beneath my hooves. I trotted to the door.

“We should get out of here,” I said. The mare nodded, and followed after me. She avoided touching either of the griffins, going so far as to jump over a stain of their blood. She scampered out and bucked the door closed behind her. The sound echoed down the hallway, making me cringe, but we were still alone. I looked back at the mare. In the slightly better lighting I could see that her eyes were a deep green—emerald. I started toward the door at the end of the hall.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Upstairs. I need to kill the rest of the griffins.”

“They’re still alive?” Her voice quavered, but not with fear. I nodded. “Let me help.” I turned back to her.

“Alright—” The stifled sound of gunfire cut me off. It was coming from above us, in the direction of the tank room. Fear made its way through the coldness inside me, and the taste of meat came to my tongue. I thought of Rolling. "Let's go!" I ran to the stairwell and threw open the door. Surprise was right behind me, and I leapt up, not bothering with the stairs. I fluttered to the door at the top.

"Alright, I'll disguise to get them to lower their guard while you—" But she wasn't there. I looked down, confused. She was still galloping up, her wings firmly folded. I raised an eyebrow when she joined me.

"I can't fly, fucker," she said, scowling. I balked, taken aback. "Sorry. Worker. What's our plan?" She grimaced, looking away from me. I decided not to question the sudden swing in emotion. I couldn’t even begin to guess how she was feeling right now. I didn’t want to think about it. The sound of gunfire repeated itself, louder. It was near.

I restated what I'd said earlier. "You follow me out and either help me fight them or distract them so I can take them from behind."

"Okay." She sounded disappointed.

I triggered my magic, feeling weakness in these unfamiliar muscles, and pushed the door open. The remaining griffins were in the hallway, aiming their weapons toward the tank room’s opening. One was hugging the leftmost corner, an oversized pistol held at the ready in his right hand. The others carried similar weapons, except for one griffin near the back. He was busy equipping a set of cannons so large they looked like they would crush me if I tried to wear them—in my normal form, that is. All their backs were to me.

I crept forward as stealthily as my claw would let me. The leading griffin peaked his head out into the tank room, but ducked back almost immediately. A bullet bounced off the wall near him.

“Fuckin’ unicorns,” he muttered. “Why didn’t one of you idiots put a null-ring on him?”

“We didn’t know he could teleport—”

“His mark’s a bird for fuck’s sake! You know how many ways that screams ‘escape?’ You’re a fuckin’ idtiot, Gullan.”

Oh right. Teleportation. I’d somehow forgotten he could do that.

I suppress the slight embarrassment. I was already behind the griffin with the battle-saddle. He turned his head when he felt my presence. He gave me a confused look.

“Sev? Weren’t you going—?” I saw realization in his eyes, but I was close enough. I stabbed my beak into his neck, ripping a chunk of it out on the way back. His words turned into a gurgle. I didn’t pause. I jumped toward the next griffin, and managed to tear at his eyes with my claws before the others could react. A bullet hit me in the wing and I dropped my disguise. The wound vanished, and I toppled over, rolling into a nearby doorway. A bullet ripped through the back of my leg. It stung, and I cried out in pain, but it was not crippling.

There was a bar here, with no walls to block it off from the rest of the room. Several chairs and tables were spread around here, and the criss-crossing woodwork in the walls still held several bottles of dusty wine. I shuffled behind the bar, readying myself to take on whomever followed. They were down to three now, after what I’d done to that one’s eyes. I panted and hissed as my leg gave a jolt of pain. My sides were still trickling blood, yet I felt stronger than when I had been in Sev’s body.

I saw the chef peek his head in, but there was another burst of gunfire and he cursed, backing out. I frowned, waiting. More gunfire, and I heard one of them shout. The griffin I’d blinded was moaning in pain, and I could see blood from the dead one seeping through the door. Another gunshot. Surprise darted past the doorway, and I jerked forward. What was she doing? This was a terrible time to attack!

I looked into the hallway, ready to duck away, and saw her lunge at the chef. He’d turned his back at the wrong second, because she was already inside the range of his gun. He snapped his jaws at her, but she punched him in the face with both forehooves, causing him to squawk in pain. I rushed to join, just as one of the two griffins in the front turned toward the noise. He leapt over his retreating friend, and fired his weapon with expert speed. The shot would have hit Surprise in the chest, but she had jumped at him the moment he’d turned. They tackled each other, and the griffin quickly came out on top. He needed both hands to keep her pinned though, and I had been hovering in the air, waiting for a frustratingly long second. I dropped down and bit into his neck. The strength soon left him, and Surprise kicked him off of herself with a grunt. I turned around, expecting the other two to be on top of us, but they were not.

They were dead, both shot and bleeding. Rolling Stone stood at the end of the hall, Sev’s oversized handgun hovering in his magic. I breath a sigh of relief, trembling. A moment later and one of those other two would have killed me. I didn’t doubt it. Tumbleweed and Hairpins were beside him, each still tensed for action.

Rolling trotted up to me, and I hugged him. “Thank you...” I said.

He smiled, and I tasted the first good feelings from him since Maize. They died when he glanced over my shoulder. I frowned.

Surprise was still standing there, looking at the griffin. Her eyes were smoldering.

“Who’s thi—?” Hairpins began.

Surprise screamed, rearing up and then smashing her forehooves down into the dead creature’s face. She trembled there, embedded in his skull, and let out a low, quavering gurgle that slowly turned into a sob. We stood transfixed—mortified. She finally stepped out. She was covered in blood. She didn’t look up at us, only kept sobbing as she started to walk forward. Hairpins stepped out of her way, her face filled with concern. She looked back at the griffin, then returned to her. Surprise kept walking, sobbing as she crossed the catwalk. She exited onto the balcony, and her crying faded. Hairpins took a step forward, glancing back at us and Tumbleweed, then galloped after her.

Rolling and I looked at each other in the silence that followed. That coldness had come back to me. It made my gut squirm. I hugged Rolling again, just to feel his warmth. He pulled away, and nodded to the tank room. Voices were coming from there. Ponies. The other slaves from the other fermentation tanks.

“You’re right,” I said, “I’ll help them out.”

* * * * *

There were not many here. Only about a dozen scattered between all the tanks. I stayed disguised as Boysenberry as we lifted them out. I did not want their gratitude stifled by my appearance. We found a few caches of supplies in many of the rooms, and there was some disagreement about how they should be divided up, but in the end everypony agreed to split things up equally, with our group getting a slightly larger cut for the rescue. It probably helped that Rolling and Tumbleweed had secured all of the griffin's weapons before they started freeing the slaves. They had a good supply of heal potions, which I was glad for, and new saddlebags for both of us. There was also plenty of dried meat, but no one touched it after they saw the bones. I still felt my mouth water a bit. Meat had always tasted good.

After we’d ransacked the place, most of the slaves hurried out of the winery as fast as they could, some going alone, others forming little groups as they fled from the stink and horror. Tumbleweed slunk off to scavenge some more, clearly not wanting to be in our presence. Good. I still hadn’t forgiven anything he’d done to me. I was almost ready to leave, but first I needed to check one last thing.

I stepped onto the balcony, where Surprise was leaning against Hairpins. Rolling was right behind me, and they turned around when they heard us. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she looked calm, and her breathing was steady. Hairpins, for once, was stoic, and gave me a confused look.

“Who’re you?” she asked. I blinked.

“Oh. Right.” I undisguised.

“What are you?” Surprise asked, her voice was hoarse. It made me thirsty.

“A changeling,” I replied, “We... change into ponies.” And eat love. And kill with our fangs.

And build our Hives from nothing and heal our bodies with nothing yet we still die so easily with the world around us...

“An’ griffins, apparently,” Hairpins drawled, “Shit, why didn’t ya jus’ do somethin’ like that when ya first got us? Not even Boss wouldda been able t’ do much against a griffin outta nowhere.”

“I didn’t know I could do it,” I said, narrowing my eyes. It occurred to me that she was still unarmed. “You know griffins eat ponies, right? After everything you did to me... you’re looking pretty tasty right now.” I made my voice low and as buzzy as possible, letting saliva drip from my fangs as I opened my mouth.

Hairpins bopped me on the nose and scoffed.

“Oh phooey, you know I ain’t th’ one t’ be mad at. Ah was jus’ trying fer some easy caps. Boss is the real despicable one. He stabbed us in th’ back—you saw! Didn’t even bat an eye. Th’ way ah see it, we’re even: You went an’ nearly got Tumble killed, then screwed us over on a lotta caps. We went an’ enslaved you an’ yer friend, an’ then nearly got ourselves enslave as a result. If anything, we got more reason t’ be mad at you than you got t’ be mad at any specific one of us.”

I just glared at her.

“Fine! Be that way. Me an’ Tumble are goin’ after Boss soon as we’re done here. If you come t’ yer senses an’ decide to at least tolerate us th’n yer welcome t’ join. Now then—are you okay dear?” She glanced over at Surprise with a questioning look, and Surprise looked back up. She had been watching Rolling Stone, who was, I guessed, trying to mime-out his name. I had noticed him rolling back and forth on the ground and pointing to a nearby rock. The pegasus nodded.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me, deary, ah don’t deserve it. Ah’m jus’ glad ah could help ya’ when ya’ needed it. Same offer goes t’ you, though I doubt you’d wanna go crusadin’ after somepony ya’ hardly know.” Surprise nodded in agreement, and Hairpins trotted off, calling for Tumbleweed as soon as she ducked back into the darkness. Rolling Stone jabbed a hoof at the rock, exasperated.

“Rolling... Rock?” she guessed.

“Stone,” I corrected. “His name’s Rolling Stone. Rolling, this is Surprise.” He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, and extended a hoof toward her. She took it after a nervous pause, and they shook. He turned to his saddlebag, and floated out a bottle of Sparkle-Cola. Popping the top off, he handed it to her, and she smiled. She reached out a wing and gripped the bottle with it. Rolling blinked in surprise as I had, but she ignored the reflex and tossed her head back, chugging down the whole bottle. I glanced back at my own wings, feeling inadequate and a bit jealous.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding much less thirsty. She wiped her mouth with a hoof and tossed the bottle aside. “So,” she asked me, “where are you two headed?”

“To New Canterlot,” I declared. She raised her eyebrows. Rolling did too. “Well, technically, we’re only going to spy on their army. After that, I’m not sure, but we might go there. I might.” Still she looked confused. “Er, let me start from the beginning..."

“Hold one,” she said, “I don’t want to stay here for a story. Can we... get away from this place first?”

“Yes,” I said, “That’s a good idea.”

* * * * *

We ended up exiting at the same time as Hairpins and Tumbleweed. They walked slightly in front of us, and I could hear them—mostly Hairpins—concocting plans to get revenge on Boss. I wanted no part in it. I hated him, yes, but I hated all these slavers equally, in spite of whatever Hairpins might say. They could risk their lives against that crazy gravity power, but I wanted no part in it. If we crossed paths again I’d kill him. Kill him before he could spot me with that PipBuck or whatever it was that let him see through my disguise. I didn’t know it was the PipBuck, but I couldn’t think of anything else that set him apart from other ponies. Except his magic. But how would that help him see through me? Unless he knew some sort of changeling-seeing spell...

No. It was the PipBuck. We are much too crafty for our magic to be overcome by some some simple spell.

I shook my head. Either way, I wanted no more part in this business. I was hungry for love, not revenge, and so that was what I would seek. New Canterlot was my best lead. Whether Rolling followed me after we’d gotten our information or not, that is where I was headed next. I hoped he would come with me, though, I liked him; I liked him a lot. Surprise too, I hoped. I was happy to be with ponies who didn’t hate me for what I was.

I almost smiled, but as we exited through the remains of the gate I spotted a piece of stained bone laying on the ground. I tasted meat, and the memory of a different kind of hunger. I swallowed and looked away.

It was an accident, I told myself. A mistake.

* * * * *

My plans were shattered.

“What the hell?” Hairpins and Tumbleweed had stopped dead in their tracks, and so had we when we caught up to them.

The wagon, Boss’s wagon, was overturned on the road before us. Holster and Fishhooks were taking shelter behind it, while Boss was standing on top, shotgun floating at his side, as he faced off against three figures. The first two were unicorns, both sheet white. One had a battle-saddle and some armor, while the second wore nothing. They were advancing slowly toward the wagon, while the third figure stood back and watched. I couldn’t tell who this one was—they were cloaked from head to toe. I saw Hairpins and Tumbleweed share a look, then nod. They slunk off to the right, probably to flank Boss. I glanced at both my companions. We trotted off in the opposite direction, watching intensely while keeping our distance. I disguised as Boysenberry. I was taking no chances.

The battle happened fast. One of the unicorns, the one with the battle-saddle, opened fire at the wagon. Boss didn’t move. I saw magic flare around his horn, and several puffs of dirt several feet in front of him. The unicorn kept firing as his (her? I really couldn’t tell) companion kept advancing on the wagon. After several rounds Boss relented. He ducked back behind the wagon and I saw several shots splinter its front instead of burrowing themselves into the dirt. Holster and Fishhooks popped out then, unleashing a barrage from both ends of the wagon. The bullets did not travel far.

At that moment, the second unicorn, whose mane was a dark blue with a streak of azure, cast a spell. A golden aura enveloped his horn, and a pair of shimmering magical walls materialized on either side of the wagon. Fish and Holster’s salvo smacked into them, pinging off in all directions except the one in which they had been aimed. The shields dropped as soon as they had appeared, and the unicorn who had cast them broke into a gallop. I saw Boss leap back over the wagon. He shouted something. By now Tumble and Hairpins were in position. Boss had not noticed them, but Holster did. He and Fishhooks dropped their weapons the moment they saw the pair, each carrying a normal-sized gun they’d managed to salvage.

If Boss knew he was on his own he didn’t seem to care. He stared down the unarmed unicorn, his horn bleeding red energies as the bullets from the first unicorn continued to explode into the dirt. He charged, but a shield flew up in front of him. He tried to float his shotgun around for a clear shot, but another glowing barrier appear just as he fired, and the front of his gun exploded into a thousand tiny pieces. I heard him scream from this distance.

He unleashed another spell. I saw a red glow surround the second unicorn, and he flipped over, just like those raiders. He did not let himself fall far, though. Another shield formed beneath his feet, this one slanted upward, and he began walking slowly down toward Boss. I saw the gleam of teeth, a wide grin. Boss screamed again. Another flash of red, and the unicorn started falling the right way. Another shield to catch himself. By now the first unicorn had run out of ammunition, and they squirmed out of their battle saddle. They charged, and I saw a yellow beam shoot from their horn. Boss dodged it, and turned to his new attacker. His horn glowed, and the unicorn collapsed. I cringed. It had hurt enough to be crushed while standing still, I didn’t want to think about what kind of damage going from a sprint to a dead stop might do.

Boss turned to the unarmed unicorn, who was now standing only a few steps away, still smiling. His horn glowed red, and the unicorn staggered. The glow increased. He struggled to stand. Boss laughed, a crazed, desperate sound. The unicorn’s horn flared, his body glowed to match it, and then there was a burst of sunlight. I covered my eyes, hissing. I saw the red afterglow even when I opened them.

When it cleared, I saw the unicorn standing triumphant. Boss lay at his feet, beaten. Hairpins and Tumbleweed watched from the wagon, their weapons still trained on their former companions. The unicorn glanced over at them, and his horn glowed once again. When he spoke his voice was rumbling, amplified by magic so that it boomed clear in all our distant ears.

“By the power vested in me by the royal lineage of Empress Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, I, Prince Gleaming Armor of New Canterlot, hereby place you all under arrest. Obey or face justice.”


Footnote: Level up.
New Perk: Raider Palette - You can now heal by eating Pony Meat.

Author's Note:

This one went fast; practically wrote itself! As always, thank you all for reading, and please leave any and all comments and/or criticism you have below. Many thanks to BlueNinja for editing this chapter! Things are now 20% more grammatically correct.

Also, thank you to Kkat for creating this universe in the first place, and all the others who have worked so hard to help expand and enrich it. You're all really awesome. /)^3^(\