• Published 2nd May 2013
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The Koprulu Sector - TheKopruluSectorUnion



It's not easy growing up in this sector of space. It's a place ran by fanatics, warlords and corporate empires of all sorts. The CMC are about to enter adulthood in one of the most violent eras of pony history.

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Chapter 9: Benefactor

Sweetie Belle awoke to a knock on her door. “Rise and shine sleepy head,” said a familiar voice. “We have lots to cover today.” Sweetie Belle didn’t have a good nights rest. As hard as she tried, thoughts of a cave kept returning into her mind, and each time they did, another migraine would keep her from falling asleep.

Sweetie Belle dragged herself out of bed to open the door. She found Twilight standing in front of her with a duffle bag, and she was wearing a familiar suit of dark grey and red armor with a series of purple lines moving across it. The suit didn’t look like the heavy bulky power armor marines wore. It actually looked light enough to wear on her own, if only somewhat encumbered. Sweetie Belle tried to remember where she’d seen that armor before, but then suffered another attack.

“They’re still happening I see,” said Twilight.

“Yeah… let’s get started. I want these attacks to stop as soon as possible,” replied Sweetie Belle.

Twilight took Sweetie Belle to a fairly large and mostly empty room. She then opened her duffle bag and revealed a suit of armor similar to her own, but more suited to Sweetie Belle's size. “Put this on. The armor will help to focus your own psionic potential. In time, you’ll be able to manipulate some of its more unique abilities,” said Twilight. Sweetie Belle suited up into the grey armor. “Alright, first we need to start with the basics so we have a good idea of where you are.”

“Alright, let's get started,” replied Sweetie Belle. Many of the tasks were so trivial it seemed like a waste of time. Levitate this item, move this item here with your mind, bend the spoon with your thoughts. Though the last one was a bit more difficult than she had thought. “Wow… that spoon is tougher than it looks,” said Sweetie Belle panting.

“It’s made from titanium,” said Twilight as she lifted the spoon and bent it with ease. She handed the spoon back to her and said, “Do not try to bend the spoon, that is impossible. Instead only try to realize the truth… there is no spoon.”

Sweetie Belle tilted her head in confusion. “Is any of that true?”

Twilight giggled at the young mare. “No silly. It’s just some ghost academy humor. Haven’t you seen the Matrix?”

“I think I did," answered Sweetie. "It was with my friend… what was her name?”

“I’m sure it’s not important” said Twilight quickly.

“No it is… I think her name was-” Sweetie Belle began to have another attack, but this time could see the image of an orange mare with her. The more she focused on that image, the worse the pain grew.

Twilight knelt down to the squirming mare. “Sweetie listen to me! You need to stop thinking and just calm down, listen to the sound of my voice. Don’t think about anything else and the pain will go away.”

Sweetie Belle refused. She held onto the image of the orange mare until she was sure her head was going to split open. Then at last she remembered. She remembered Scootaloo, sitting with her watching the movie together. With the memory recovered, the pain finally ended. Sweetie Belle was able to feel that portion of the inside of her head was much hotter than the rest.

“Sweetie Belle, what happened?” asked Twilight.

“I just remembered… my friend… Scootaloo.”

“You remembered?” said Twilight in a somewhat alarmed tone. “What do you remember about her?”

“Why does that matter?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“It might have something to do with the migraines. It’s important you tell me everything so I can help you,” Twilight replied.

“Oh. Well not much… I just remember she and I-” again she dropped to the floor in another attack.

After her attack was over, Twilight shook her to see if she was still conscious. “Are you still awake?”

Sweetie Belle opened her eyes. “Yeah… what were we talking about?” she asked.

Twilight gave the young white mare a reassuring smile. “Nothing Sweetie. Let’s get back to our training alright?”

“Yeah good idea.” Sweetie Belle was smiling inside. Feigning that last migraine seemed to have worked. She still didn’t know why that orange mare was important, but it was obvious that Twilight didn’t want her to know.

“Alright, next you’ll need to learn how to power that armor. I want you to focus the energy around you,” requested Twilight.

“How do I do that?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Try to levitate yourself,” answered Twilight.

“My levitation isn’t the strongest yet,” mentioned Sweetie.

“You don’t have to levitate successfully, just try,” said Twilight.

“Alright, here I go,” said Sweetie Belle. As predicted, she was unable to levitate her body. But it wasn’t because she was too weak, it’s because she felt all her energy being absorbed from her spell. Sweetie Belle looked down at the suit to find that it now had green colored lights running across it. “Woah, what’s that?”

“The suit absorbed your magic. Now that it’s powered up, it’ll help to focus your next spell. I want you to try to bend the spoon again.” Twilight let out a giggle before adding, “Remember, there is no spoon.”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes at the joke. She lifted the spoon again and tried to bend it a second time. She focused with all of her will and the suit began to glow brighter. A bead of sweat broke over her forehead. Finally the spoon gave not only bending, but breaking apart.

Sweetie Belle was panting, but she was proud. “Wow. The suit really works.”

“That was all you. The suit doesn’t make your powers any stronger; all it does is help bring out your potential. Eventually you won’t need it to control your abilities, though it does have other uses.” Twilight's form turned into a figure of pure purple light, and then disappeared from sight.

“Twilight? Where did you go? Twilight?” Sweetie Belle looked around the room but saw no sign of her.

“BOO!” shouted a voice as a pair of hooves grabbed Sweetie Belle's shoulders.

Sweetie Belle jumped and turned around to see Twilight's form reappear in another body of purple light. The light faded and Twilight's natural form appeared. “Neat trick huh?” she said.

“Cool! When do I get to learn how to be invisible?!” asked Sweetie Belle

“We’ll get to that. For now, let’s continue with the basics,” suggested Twilight.

Sweetie Bell couldn’t say that her first week was anything particularly awesome. Mostly Twilight was just going over areas she already knew and working to improve them. But during her off times, she kept thinking on that orange mare. She now remembered she was a Pegasus and liked Sci-fi. She was also capable acrobat as well. But every time she got to her most recent memories of the cave, the pain always returned.

Slowly but surely Sweetie Belle was working through the migraines to dig out those buried memories. She had to remember what happened in that cave, but also had to be quiet about it. She was still suspicious of Twilight's motives, and wasn’t sure if Twilight herself was hiding something from her.

Aside from mental discipline exercises, there were also a number of strenuous physical activities. Mostly running, jumping, swimming, pushing things and other things of that nature. Due to their levitation abilities, ghost operatives had no need for robotic hands and were able to remain on all fours. Unlike the other members of the Dominion military that had to build their muscles in an entirely new way in order to master bi-pedal combat, ghosts mostly just had to worry about speed and endurance. Psychic strength was preferable to raw physical prowess.

Sweeties Belle's magic had grown to be quite powerful over just one week. On her first day of training she was forced to complete an obstacle course (similar to the ones reapers go through, but without the zerglings). Her time in the CMC did help to hone her physique, but she still had difficulty. By the weeks end she ran the same course again, and with the help of her powers to increase her strength and speed, she maneuvered through the course with relative ease.

It was the second week now. Sweetie Belle was slowly getting tired of the repetitive physical training she had to under go each morning. It was all starting to seem beneath her, and Twilight could tell her student was getting impatient. She felt Sweetie Belle was ready for the next step.

“Today you learn how to influence minds,” said Twilight.

“That sounds neat! How do we get started?” asked Sweetie Belle enthusiastically.

“Since you seem so excited to begin, we are going to pit you up against a mind of incredible will. This will surely put your skills to the test,” assured Twilight.

“I’m ready! Who am I going up against?!” asked Sweetie Belle excitedly. Twilight pointed over to a janitor cleaning the interior of a cage. “I’m going up against the janitor?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Not him,” said Twilight approaching the cage. She reached in and pulled out a small white rabbit. “HIM! Meet your opponent, Angel.” she declared holding a rabbit.

“A rabbit? I’m going to manipulate a rabbit?" asked Sweetie Belle. "I thought you said it was going to be a powerful mind that was sure to test my abilities.”

“Well... you are still new. But trust me that rabbit is dynamite. Little Angel here has put many new students to shame. What makes you think that you, a novice, can defeat him on your first attempt?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. She wasn’t sure if she should be amused or insulted. “Alright fine, what is my challenge supposed to be?”

Twilight placed the rabbit on the ground, as well as a small red block. “Get Angel here to move this red block to the other side of the room,” instructed Twilight.

“No problem.” Sweetie Belle levitated Angel, and pushed him against the small red block, forcing the block across the room. “That was easy. Now can you teach me something useful?”

Twilight face palmed at the display. “Not like that! The point if you get someone else to do it for you.”

“Isn’t that what he just did?” asked Sweetie

Damn this mare is air headed. “Ok, watch and learn,” said Twilight. She put her hoof to her forehead and closed her eyes. Angel’s eyes widened, then he rushed to the blocked and pushed it back to them. “See, that’s how it’s done. I want you to make him WANT to push that block.

“Alright then… this shouldn’t be too hard.” Sweetie closed her eyes and focused her efforts on entering Angels thoughts. Their minds locked, and a battle of mental combat ensued. Sweetie Belle opened her eyes again to find herself on her back, with a bloody nose and a mild headache. “What happened?

“Psychic counter attack. I told you he’s no push over,” explained Twilight.

“He’s a psychic?!” asked Sweetie Belle.

“No," answered Twilight. "If he were, you’d be the one moving the block across the room. But even non-psychics can develop barriers against psychic intrusion. Every time someone mind is invaded, to a degree they learn how to better defend against it a second time. As I said before, Angel has trained with many students. And he is just a rabbit. A strong willed sentient pony will prove to be much more difficult to invade.”

“I will not be denied by a rabbit!” shouted Sweetie Belle. The determined white unicorn got back on her feet and again engaged in a battle of mental will. The two competitors locked eyes, unflinching as neither was willing to give ground. Sweetie Belle's armor was now glowing bright enough to light the whole room. Twilight sat back and watched her pupil give it everything she had. She could feel her energy flowing through the air, and could see the doors and windows in the room physically shaking. After what seemed like an eternity, Sweetie Belle's armor started to smoke.

“Get if off, get if off!” shouted Sweetie Belle as she struggled to remove the smoking armor.

Twilight sighed and used her magic to undo the armor and remove it from her. It fell on the ground still smoking and warm to the touch. “I’ve never seen anyone blow out their suit trying to defeat a rabbit before,” said Twilight trying to hold back her laughter.

“I want to try again!” demanded Sweetie Belle. Angel had both angered and humiliated her for the second time. She would not leave this room until her opponent was defeated.

Hours of humiliating defeats later, her victory was achieved. It had come at a cost however. Sweetie Belle was letting off a powerful telekinetic discharge every time she attempted to mind control Angel, which would damage the room each time as well. “I did it!” shouted Sweetie Belle panting heavily. "I told you I’d get Angel to move the box."

Twilight looked around the room, which was filled with destroyed doors and shattered windows. “I can see that. But I think your technique still needs more refinement. You gave off a bit too much energy. The point of mental manipulation is that it’s supposed to be subtle.”

“Ok, so I have something to improve on," admitted Sweetie. "At least it’s progress.”

Twilight couldn’t disagree with that. Even though it was a sloppy job at best, very few students were ever able to defeat Angel after just one day. Seeing poor Angel was pushed well beyond his limits, Twilight placed him back in his cage, and left the room to retrieve her next opponent.

Twilight reentered with a large owl on her back. “Sweetie Belle, meet your next challenger. Owlicious.”


The days were starting to blend together now. Scootaloo was fairly certain it was the fourteenth day of training. Others thought it was the thirteenth or fifteenth. No one really knew how long training was suppose to be, so she guessed it didn’t really matter. They’re done when they're told they’re done.

It was the same process for the most part. Get up, eat, physical training, eat, combat training, eat, and conclude the day with an exciting and unique activity followed by a quick shower. It seems the random fights have come to a halt. Scootaloo noticed that the other inmates had become more passive. They simply do what they’re told now. Even the cannibal seemed to have become less violent, though he still demanded her food every day.

A guard still dropped off a bowl of food in front of her cell every night. The other inmates didn’t seem to care anymore, so she gladly helped herself each night. Scootaloo wasn’t sure why they were acting so lethargic and she wasn’t. She liked to believe it’s because she knew there were still people out there who cared about her, as where most of these murderers were probably shunned from civilized society long ago. Of course, the fact she was wrongfully imprisoned meant any of the others might have been as well.

The executions have ended for the most part following the conclusion of the first week. Scootaloo didn’t have an exact count on how many inmates she came in with, but if she had to guess, just over half of them have died. Though executions have ceased, the evening events occasionally still claimed an inmate now and then. For the most part, it seems only the most capable individuals were still alive. The “culling” seems to have fulfilled its purpose.

Scootaloo was always just barely hanging on for most of the first week, but now that she was able to get some extra food in her, her performance had increased significantly. She noticed her hooves had hardened from all the time spent on the punching bags that she was sure were filled with sand. Her muscles weren’t nearly as sore each morning as they had been in the past. All the beatings the instructor handed her helped her develop a new threshold for pain. She felt as if she was a whole new mare.

If there was one place she seemed to excel at, it was the random evening events. One day they were instructed to climb a snowy summit to reach the transport at the top before they froze to death. Another involved moving across a series of ropes and poles, with a long drop for those who fell. Supposedly it simulated moving through trees in the jungle. It seems they were being trained to operate in all manner of environments. Fortunately for every evening challenge, Scootaloo seemed to have already had a similar experience in the CMC. Always leading from the front, she had earned the attention of their unarmed combat instructor.

Unlike the other inmates who spent the mornings doing physical training exercises, she was taken aside for personal instruction on unarmed combat training. The instructor never did talk to her in what could be considered “small talk” but she could tell his interest in her was more than just professional.

This day however was different. While the morning and after noon events were the same, it seemed that the evening events were being pushed aside so their “real” training could begin. The inmates had their precision gloves and shock collars removed and were now presented with their own suit of reaper armor, which they would train in from now on. Admittedly Scootaloo was excited. It represented a real milestone, a sign that there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Despite being nowhere near the size of marine armor, it was still quite heavy. All the Pegasi quickly found flight to be impossible, or at least impractical with the added weight. They were informed that the suits came with a kill switch that would be activated if they attempted to escape, so they were still wearing a shock collar of sorts, if just a less uncomfortable one. While the suits did provided superior leg support, at this point all the inmates were able to naturally walk on two legs without their leg supports. She was pleased to find the hands on the reaper suit to be much more responsive and flexible compared to the precision gloves. The hands could actually retract around the hooves allowing the reapers to walk on all fours. Despite their mastery of bi-pedal walking, everyone was still faster on all fours.

Their first order of training was familiarizing themselves with their weapons. Their first weapon was the C-14 Impaler Gauss rifle. The C-14 rifles were a unique piece of technology because they remained largely unchanged when first discovered by the Koprulu ponies. They are among the most widely used weapons in the sector. There were two version of this rifle.

The standard issue variant used by most militaries in the sector was the A series. The A series was built with raw firepower in mind. Holding 200 rounds, with semi, burst and auto features, the standard variant put a lot of fire power into the hands of the basic infantry pony. Even on full auto, the rifle had excellent stability, allowing a lone pony to accurately deliver hundreds of rounds down range in a short amount of time. On full auto, it wasn't uncommon for a lone infantry pony to take down a target far larger than he was.

This variant was restricted to the military, but there were a number of well funded pirates, rebels, and mercenary groups that had access to them as well. It only had one barrel, though it came equipped with a retractable bayonet below the barrel. The mass of the rifle combined with the immense strength provided by the power armor turned the bayonet into a powerful close quarter option. While the A series could hold no extra attachments, the idea was that it packed enough fire power that it wouldn't need any other options. Due to the A series' massive size, only a pony in power armor would be able to lift the huge rifle. For that reason, it was not in use by the reaper corps.

They would be using the B series. The B series was a little less than half the size of the A series, but it still packed just as much punch. However it only held 100 rounds, did not have as much stability as the A series, and lacked a full auto setting in order to conserve ammunition and encourage more accurate shots. Due to its smaller size, it could effectively be wielded by an unarmed pony, and had two sets of handles. One was a large handle meant for ponies in power armor, who could hold the rifle with just one hand at the cost of accuracy; it could be just as accurate on burst as the A series was on auto if two hands were used. The other handle was meant to be held by unarmored ponies, and needed to be held with both hands; only semi was encouraged when using this handle, as a burst could knock an unarmored pony on their rear.

This smaller more affordable variant was the preferred by militias, police forces and other paramilitary groups. Rather than having a retractable bayonet, this variant came with a second barrel could be outfitted with a number of augments: grenade launcher, flame throwers, grappling hooks, high caliber rail shot, and other attachments. Due to its smaller size and greater flexibility, it is the preferred rifle for special forces, who often valued versatility over raw firepower. The smaller size also allowed for the use of lighter power armor, that would often be equipped with jet packs.

The inmates were instructed on its proper assembly, dis-assembly, cleaning, reloading and immediate action (fixing weapon jams). After about an hour of practice, they were taken to an indoor firing range and presented with live ammunition. Despite the earlier mentioned kill switch, Scootaloo was still somewhat surprised none of the inmates tried to fire on any of the guards. They received a few minutes of instruction on proper firing stance, and then they were let loose on the range.

The first time Scootaloo fired the weapon at a target, she had it set to burst. Scootaloo was completely unprepared for the force of the recoil. She was sent back a few steps, eventually lost her footing and fell on her back. She half expected to see a guard readying to execute her for her blunder. Instead all she heard was the sound of laughter and mockery. She got back up and prepared to try again. She took the proper stance, and braced herself for the tremendous recoil.

She fired, and this time managed to stand her ground, though with much difficulty. The recoil of the massive rifle was incredible. If it weren’t for the added support from the armor, she was certain she could have fallen back a second time. In fact she was certain if it wasn’t for her improved physique, she may have dislocated something. Scootaloo stood her ground and did her best fire down range accurately, and eventually started to make improvement.

After about an hour of firing, they were returned to the armory and presented with their next weapon: the P-38 scythe pistol. For a pistol, the weapon was large enough to be mistaken for a small rifle. Its forty round magazine fired the same ammunition as the C-14, and had a burst and semi auto setting. Like before, they were trained on its assembly, maintenance and firing stances. After some time familiarizing themselves with the ins and outs of the weapon, the inmates were returned to the firing range.

Again, the recoil of the pistol was difficult to bear. The reaper suits gloves helped to relieve some of the pain, but each round fired still had a bit of a sting to it. Fortunately after two weeks of breaking her hooves on the punching bag, Scootaloo was accustomed to it. She was much more comfortable with this smaller weapon, and her ambidextrous hoofs allowed her to accurately wield two at once. By the time the hour of target practice was up, Scootaloo’s accuracy with the pistol had greatly improved to the point where she was easily the best pistol marksmen in the cell block.

After their marksmanship concluded, their armor was removed and the day ended with the usual half meal and shower time. It was nice not having to wear that collar anymore, though as she walked by the bathroom mirror, she noticed it had left a mark. More importantly, her mane was growing back to its former glory. Scootaloo had always kept it rather short, so it wouldn’t be long before it was it’s good old self again. “Move along” said the guard escorting her.

Scootaloo complied and made her way to the shower. As she washed herself, she noticed over the last few days that the marine’s armor had a pair of playing cards painted on one of his armors shoulder pieces. This was the same marine who had been escorting her each night, and the same marine who had been giving her the extra food. “So… you volunteer to watch me each night?” she asked.

The marine pointed his rifle at her immediately. “No talking!” he demanded.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes as she continued to clean herself. “If you were going to shoot me, you would have done it by now. You don’t think I notice it’s you in here every night? This is probably the most enjoyable part of your day; I doubt you’ll throw that away.”

The marine didn’t move. He was rather dumb founded on how to handle the chatty mare. He took his weapon off safe to show he was serious. “So, how did you end up working here?” she continued. The marine still held his pose, weapon at her chest. Scootaloo casually walked up to him and placed her hand on his rifle. “What’s the matter? No experience talking to mares? It’s just some chit chat. I’ve had no one to talk to in the last… fourteen days is it?” Scootaloo slowly pushed his rifle aside. “By the way, your visor is fogging up.”

“It’s steamy,” he replied.

“You don’t give us hot water,” she retorted as she returned to cleaning herself. The marine was blushing under his visor. “So as I was asking, how many days has it been?”

The marine was hesitant for a moment about talking with an inmate, but finally decided there was no harm in it. It’s not like she would even be able to lift his massive rifle, much less kill him with it. “It’s the fifteenth day. Weapons training begins at the start of the third week.”

Scootaloo smiled at him trying to get him to relax. “See, now that wasn’t so hard was it? So, how’d you end up here? Doesn’t seem like a place you’d volunteer for. No good food, no fun, no mares.”

“Sentenced. I got into a brawl over a game of cards. I was told I could do twenty years prison for assault, or six years of service. This is my fourth… you?” asked the marine.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t do it?” asked Scootaloo.

“No," he replied.

“Figures. I accidentally got my friend… my very close friend killed. Perhaps that’s reason enough for me to be here. But that’s not why I was sentenced. I was on my way back to apologize to the family when I found them dead. Militia show up, found me in a house with my dead friends murdered parents and… you can guess the rest,” answered Scootaloo.

“Just dead when you showed up?” asked the curious marine.

Scootaloos eyes turned red at the memory, the kind before someone sheds a tear. “Yeah,” she said with a cracked voice. The marine was almost convinced by the performance. Either she really was innocent, or she was an incredibly good actor. He had worked at the prison for three and a half years now. With all the scum that have passed through the doors of the ice house, you can start to tell who the murderers are. But this mare didn’t seem like the others. Maybe she really did kill those people, but unlike the others, she seemed to feel genuinely guilty about it.

Scootaloo looked back at him, the confident demeanor in her voice was now gone. “So why do you keep dropping food off by my cell each night?”

“I’m under orders to,” he replied.

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “From whom?”

“Not at liberty to discuss that. You’re time is almost done, wrap it up,” he demanded.

“Alright then. By the way, I’m Scootaloo Iron Feather, what’s your name?” the marine kept silent. “Oh. Well I was just thinking that once my training is finished, we could get a coffee or something. But if that’s how you want to be-”

“Sergeant Card Shark!” he said with the speed of a flying bullet.

Scootaloo chuckled. “Alright then Card Shark, nice to finally get to know you.” Scootaloo was escorted back to her cell. As usual, Card Shark would show up to give her another bowl of food. It seemed like it would be another typical night, but something else happened later that night. Another knock on her cell bars was heard. She didn’t see who it was, but a small tablet was left on the floor of her cell.

She examined it to see it was a small computer. Words ran through it saying, “Don’t give up. You’re getting out of here. I’ve got your back.” Scootaloo had to assume it was her benefactor who had ordered Card Shark to give her the food. She placed the tablet under her sheet and tried to get some sleep, but spent much of the night pondering about the message.

Another week came and another week went. Scootaloo was pretty certain it was now the fourth week of training. Her physical demeanor was almost unrecognizable compared to when she first arrived. She had grown accustomed to the savage beatings the instructor had given her on a day to day basis. She could match any of the other inmates accuracy with the C-14, and no one could come close to her aim with the scythe pistol, which she was exceedingly skilled with on either hoof.

Scootaloo was once again awakened by the sound of shouting guards. They didn’t seem to have nearly as much enthusiasm as before. Probably because they knew by now the inmates were already familiar with the motions of the day. The inmates lined up to be given their meals. In virtually every way, this was another ordinary morning in the ice house, every way but one. While normally Scootaloo ate as fast as she could before her favorite stallion came by demanding food, today she ate at the same rate as everyone else.

She only managed to finish maybe a fifth of it before she found him standing in front of her. “Food, now!” he demanded. Scootaloo’s eyes shifted up to meet his for a moment, then she returned to her meal.

Without anything else being said, the stallion flipped over her table. Scootaloo got to her feet and quickly drove two punches into his chest. The stallion staggered back a bit, and then threw a punch of his own. She ducked the punch and with her rear end towards him, gave him a hind leg buck to the gut. The large stallion dropped on all fours gasping for air. Scootaloo put her hooves around the known cannibals head, twisted and wrung his neck. The “fight” seemed over in the blink of an eye.

After the brief show of force, a pair of guards carried the inmate’s body out to wherever it is corpses are sent. The other guards and inmates went back to their meals. Except for the fact that she had next to no food this morning, the day was off to a good start. If that didn’t teach the other inmates she was no longer the scared little filly she was when she first arrived, then she’d just have to demonstrate again and again until she got her point across.

"Scootaloo, someone wants to speak with you,” said a familiar voice. It was Card Shark. “Come with me please.” He presented a pair of short cuffs to put on her forward hooves. Scootaloo sighed, but complied. Due to the short length of the chains binding her forward hooves together, she was forced to walk on two hooves. Fortunately it had become second nature at this point.

Scootaloo followed the armored stallion through the prison halls to their destination. “Pretty impressive back there. It's about time that scum got what he had coming” he said. “Thanks for killing him for us. I hate wasting tax payer bullets on them. If it were up to me, I’d just walk them all out the door, and watch them freeze in the snow.”

“Wow, thanks. It’s good to know you hold me in such a high regard,” replied Scootaloo.

Card Shark sighed. “You know I don’t mean you.”

Scootaloo smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you believe me now when I say I’m not a murderer?”

He actually had to pause for a moment. He turned around and looked at the mare in the orange prison outfit. No matter how hard he tried, when he saw Scootaloo, he just didn’t see a murderer. True she just killed that other inmate, but in his mind that was a long time coming. He also found himself unintentionally admiring the mares recently regrown mane.

“Uh… Card Shark… you alright?” asked Scootaloo.

Card Shark snapped out of it and continued walking. “Yeah… I’m alright.”

“Your visor got foggy again,” she said.

“It gets hot in these suits. Let’s go!” he ordered.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you still think I did it?” Card Shark ignored the question. “Alright then, how about this? Do you think I’d kill you if you gave me the chance?”

“I’m making you wear the cuffs aren’t I?” he replied.

“I see. Well it takes a real stallion to admit that an unarmed mare scares the hell out of him,” she said followed by a chuckle.

“Shut up! I didn’t say that! It’s just protocol is all,” he quickly replied.

“Oh, so you don’t think I need the cuffs then?” asked Scootaloo.

Card Shark was getting a bit aggravated by her playful attacks. “This is why I can’t talk to mares,” he whispered under his visor.

“You do realize the speakers on your suit pick up whispers right?” said Scootaloo. Card Shark did everything to hold back a growl of anger. “So, trouble with the mares huh? I guess that would explain why you were so eager to watch me shower every night.”

“You are just so full of yourself right now aren’t you?! For your information, you're not… I don’t…” Card Shark was at a loss of words.

“Find me attractive in anyway at all?” finished Scootaloo in an insincere tone. “Of course not, what was I thinking. You’re a stallion of high class who clearly reserves himself for only the highest quality of mare,” teased Scootaloo.

Card Shark just bit his tongue and shook his head under his helmet as he uncuffed Scootaloo. “We’re here. Good luck and good ridance.”

“See you in the showers,” she said winking as she entered the room. Card Shark slammed the door behind her.
Scootaloo looked ahead of the office and saw a rotating chair behind a desk. “Come in, take a seat,” said a voice coming from the other side of the chair. “It seems you managed to upset the sergeant. You must be having a good day today.”

Scootaloo took a seat as he requested. She recognized the voice of the stallion behind the other chair. “Is this about the fight in the mess hall? Judging from what I’ve seen the first week, I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Yes it is, normally no, but in this case I do,” said the stallion as he turned around. It was her unarmed combat instructor. The brown furred stallion was only wearing a black shirt, like the one he wears during their classes. “It’s good to see I wasn’t wasting my time with you Scootaloo,” he had never called her by her name before until now. She must have made quite the impression. “I admit I’m a bit disappointed it took so long, but at least now we don’t have to sneak you food at night. Speaking of which…” the instructor walked over to a small refrigerator and pulled out a delicious looking hay salad on a plate then placed it on the desk in front of her. “I heard your meal was ruined.” Compared to the tasteless gruel she’d been eating, it looked like a meal fit for the emperor himself. Scootaloo hesitantly reached for the salad then paused to look at her instructor. He gave an approving nod, so she started slowly chewing on the food. She didn’t want to look too desperate.

“That was you?” Scootaloo asked after swallowing the first piece. “Why? I mean… I’m not ungrateful or anything. But wouldn’t you get in trouble for any of that?”

“Well, being the warden does allow me to bend a few rules now and then,” answered the warden.

“If you’re the warden, then why are you an instructor?” asked Scootaloo.

“It gives me something to do. I enjoy beating the crap out of low lives," replied the warden with a smile.

“So… why me?” she asked before eating another piece of the salad.

The warden chuckled, and then reached for a more official looking black coat and a hat. As he put on the uniform he asked, “Don’t tell you me didn’t notice the resemblance?” Scootaloo took another look at his purple mane and eyes, then the name tag on this coat, 'Warden Iron Feather.'

Author's Note:

Looking at those two pictures, and from the lore descriptions I read, I kind of like the B series. C-14 more than the A series. Yeah I know it doesn't have the raw fire power, but it just looks so much cooler. And the light size allows for lighter power armor with jetpacks! Is there a single thing in the world that isn't made 20% cooler when you add a jet pack to it? I can't think of it. Even the Dragon in Dragon Commander has a jetpack. Maybe I'm just biased towards jet packs, but if a smaller rifle allows me to carry a jet pack, I'll pick the smaller rifle just about every time.

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