Fallout: Equestria - Murky Number Seven

by FuzzyVeeVee

Sixty Minutes in Hell

    “What was it like to go out there and fight the good fight?”

    Utterly, utterly new.

I'd fought before, yes.  I'd lost, but I had at least tried.  I'd even shot a gun at a few things recently, griffons and parasprites.  I'd not hit a single griffon and perhaps only one parasprite while panicked and just pulling the trigger out of sheer terror. Never killed anything.  I'd lashed out, bucked a few groins, helped take down a sneaky raider...

But to actually move forward, armed and ready, with the express purpose to move in and eliminate something or somepony to help bring peace?  To take a stand, make the decision to commit and then push yourself into the firing line to save others?

    Could I do that?

Ponies needed help.  Brimstone and Glimmerlight had stepped up to the challenge already, but the weight of the decision burdened heavily on me still.  If I were to go in, wouldn't I just freeze or run away? It's what I always did. I'm no fighter.

    Even one raider would kill me.

That image was seared into my mind, of one plunging a knife into my shoulder and twisting the cold metal against the bone.  Even seeing a raider, I couldn't get rid of it. The thought made my muscles twist and stiffen up, and made me stop in my tracks.  What possible help could I be to anypony?

Yet they were all just, innocents. They were all just trapped just like me.  Even if they hated me, even if they would spit and curse at my very name, I didn't hate them back.  From the pigsty to the Ministries, I had been somehow growing. Every hardship, struggle, scream, and tear had been pushing me further and further from the slave that I was.  Yes, chains remained, but that didn't mean I couldn't pull in other directions to do what I was quickly beginning to feel I had to. The DJ and Littlepip had given me the inspiration, but it had to be me that made the decision.  I had proved to myself by now that I could survive, endure, and find a way to keep living, even if it wasn't perfect and often went wrong. But that had all been of necessity.

Protégé had offered me one chance to make a decision for myself.  To gauge risk against reward. I had taken it without realising whether I was truly doing it as a pony or a slave.  Whether I was choosing or obeying. Now I saw that this was the sort of situation he was trying to prepare me for, when I had to choose to face great danger, to help do some good for other ponies, to choose to take risks so that it might pay off better in the end.

Of course, wasn't that what he had been doing with Red Eye all along?  Was I only falling further into the subtle hooks of Red Eye's ideology?

    Or was I finally beginning to not just listen and wish, but decide to follow the things told to me by a voice across the wastes on the air?  To fight the good fight, any way we could.

    Either way, ponies needed help and, for once, both slaves and slavers had the same goals.

    To end Barb's sick rampage, forever.

    “Working with the slaves?  With the raider?  Hell, no!”

    “They'll just turn on us the moment we go in!”

I cowered behind Caduceus, watching while the slavers lambasted Glimmerlight and Brimstone's assertion to offer aid.  It hadn't gone down well, with the vast majority of those slavers assembled rising up in opposition to the entire idea.  Mosin had swore colourfully. I hadn't understood what he'd said, but anything said with that much malice had to have been a curse.

The planning had been taking place above the plaza in an old security room.  Tough inner windows of thick glass looked down upon the shop cells. Only occasional raiders could be seen running along the balconies.  Mostly, they were hiding in the shop cells, keeping their strength and stolen armaments a secret from all prying eyes. I could still hear the screams.

My imagination had been running rampant with what each one could mean.  The long ones were the worst, drawn out and filled with as much shock as pain.  Oh Goddesses, protect the ponies within there.

For their part, Glimmerlight and Brimstone had simply stood with stern eyes and waited the criticism out, ignoring the slavers entirely in favour of appealing to Protégé instead.  The dark unicorn had simply stood and watched them back, apparently gauging their readiness to help.

Really, I couldn't blame them for accepting the help.  Only out in the corridor I could hear the frantic calls for ammunition.  The raiders were only barely being kept at bay. Less than twenty feet away through a couple of walls there were slavers holding the line behind upturned tables and opened doors, trading shots that rang and echoed all the way to sting my ears with raiders who occasionally tried to sneak around their defences or make a concerted push.  Every slaver present was on edge. The word had already gone out that the entire Mall was on lockdown. No pony was to move more than a few dozen feet from the perimeter until this was done. I'd heard as much from the planning when we had entered the room.

    We were as trapped as the rioting raiders.

“Somehow I don't get the feeling this was one of their brightest ideas, Murk,” Caduceus muttered back to me.  The nurse was trying to brush some of the dirt from his white clothing. It was already stained beyond recovery from just living in Fillydelphia, but he persisted as though from some nervous tick or motion.

    “Just throw them in chains and wait till it's over before he rejoins them!”

    “You think they can do what we can't?”

I cast my eyes around them.  Earth ponies and unicorns, stallions and mares, all types of ponies from the slaver team in the Mall were consistent in their belief.  But there was one voice I expected to hear, but didn't.

My eyes found The Master.  He was standing on the opposite side of the table from Glimmerlight, looking smug as ever.  Spotting my own eyes lingering on him, he twisted his head to grin at me. I retreated behind Caduceus again, pressing close to his side.

    “This isn't their job!”

    “He's already bloodied, look at him!  He's killed some of us, I bet!”

    Finally, I heard Protégé's voice clearly ring out through the opposition.

    “They may aid us.”

    The shouting reached a height upon which I could not even detect individual voices.  My head hurt.

Protégé raised a hoof for silence, aided by The Master slamming his huge hoof on the desk for order.  At their combination of wills, the slavers shut up immediately. Protégé looked at each of them, before lowering his voice.

“Brimstone has never defied our rules as a worker. unless Glimmerlight is threatened. That much I understand.  In this case, I have no reason to doubt his resolve in this matter.”

    “I am going in.” Glimmerlight stated the matter with a seriousness I'd never heard before.  “Coral Eve is in there, and come hell or high water I will get her out. She may hate me, but until I know why or what caused it, I'm not turning my back.”

    Protégé nodded reassuringly.

    “You will have your chance, Glimmerlight.  We-”

A screaming suddenly broke through the background noise, begging and high pitched.  A stallion's voice, fearful and simply howling.

    “Don't!  Please, oh please, no!  DON'T! NO! PLE—”

A detonation from the plaza erupted up, cracking and damaging the internal windows that looked upon the plaza.  Everypony present ducked, but the tough glass held. We all ran to the windows, looking down to see a small mushroom cloud of smoke rising from a series of exploded boxes.  Raiders were laughing and running around it. I could swear I saw bound pony parts away from the centre of the explosion. Had they just tied somepony down to them and execu...oh Celestia on high.

    I saw Protégé scowl. Brimstone merely watched with glazed eyes, his voice level and low.

“They're working themselves into a frenzy down there. Every bit of hate and crazed ideas that raiders get, that perversion of freedom.  You trapped it. Pushed them into a hole, let it build up, boil to the top. Now you're seeing it unleashed. Not all raiders are bloodthirsty maniacs, but you turned them into what everyone thinks they are by keeping them cooped up so tight in there.”

Protégé's brow narrowed, before he turned away from the window, staring at every slaver in the room, nodding to Glimmerlight.

“We will end this.  We are a faction of believers in a dream, of a better Equestria when everypony might help one another in better terms.  Who are we to deny those wishing to save lives by aiding us? I will not stand to see workers killed in such senseless violence.  We put them through enough in the pursuit of Unity. They deserve rescue from this. It is our duty to use whatever we can.”

Calm and polite, yet authoritative and permitting no nay-saying, Protégé had their attention.  To my amazement, I saw The Master nod and speak.

    “I say let the slaves work with him.  That's what they're here for after all.  To work for us.”

Around the table, I saw at least half of the slavers suddenly agreeing.  Had Protégé swayed them with his more idealistic words or were they just agreeing with The Master?  I had a nasty feeling where the real power in this room lay, regardless of rank.

    “Thank you, Chainlink Shackles.  Working together we can bring an end to this atrocity.  Brimstone, you know Barb well?”

He nodded.  “One of my Big Four, spent the best part of a decade running with him.  If he's commanding them, you're not going to be able to play by any rules.”

“Right, well we want you at the briefing then.  In fact, all four of you come along. Shackles? You too.  Mosin, bring your assistant to help discuss what we have to correctly arm ourselves up.  Ragini, make sure the defence cordons are still in place. How long do we have until Stern's griffons arrive to raid?”

“No word yet, but I'd say slightly over an hour.  By the time we make a push, it may be just about sixty minutes.  They won't wait long before launching an all out aggressive storming of the plaza.”   
   
“Right.  That isn't going to happen. Keep your ear to the sky and find out for me exactly how long the moment you can get word from the griffons.  Everypony do your duty now and reconvene here in less than five minutes. We can end this without unnecessary bloodshed of those who are trapped in there.”

He trotted over to the blueprints, stomping a hoof on them before glancing over the table at each slaver and slave in turn.  His eyes met mine, resting there for a few seconds before looking up again.

    “It's time to prove that we really are pursuing the dream we all signed up to achieve.”

    Preparations began immediately.

Protégé was busy organising the slavers into teams for the assault; the rest of them had left to deal with their various duties on the defence lines.  We were effectively left to ourselves in the old security room, amidst the hustle and bustle of preparations and frantic calling to get together for Protégé's briefing.  Alone, dodging out of the way of a swearing slaver dragging heavy boxes of ammo across the floor on a cart, I looked around. Now empty cages lined each wall where weapons were once kept.  Feeling vulnerable, I found myself trotting over to lie down with my head in my hooves inside one.

Glimmerlight had been staring through the window, Brimstone beside her.  Those two, they were so convicted to go into the battle to come. Both had reasons and those to protect.  They simply felt they needed to, choosing to be the good pony. Already I could see Caduceus standing beside Glimmerlight, laying a hoof on her shoulder and nuzzling her gently, clearly about to make his own choice.

    “Glimmer, you'll need somepony who can treat a wound in there, I'm coming.”

    “You don't have to, Caddy.  My life's mess ups aren't yours to—”

“'Help all those who need help.' That's what Helpinghoof told me.  We all believed it in there. Him, I, Life Bloom and all the others working or studying in that clinic.  Trapped here, I found a new meaning to it with Doctor Weathervane, that sometimes we need to not just wait for those in need to come to us.  I want to help.  Not just because it's you, even if that may be a part of it.”

He grinned, to which I saw Glimmerlight only chuckle lightly, seemingly thankful for the more innocent notion.  Her hoof tapped his cheek.

“You're such an oddity in this world.  A real gentlecolt. Guess Tenpony makes ‘em that way.  But stick behind me, okay? Don't get in the firing line.  Besides, I doubt you'll have a problem with that view on things, eh?”

He blushed, but couldn't help but nod.  The pair giggled, quickly hugging. Alone at the back of the room, I could see the little bonds that aided each other, the mutual humour and ease of speech that was keeping them calm about their choice to do this.

Now he was in as well, just leaving me alone in the cage wondering about my own place in this.  The only pony in the room still too afraid to say 'yes'.

I wasn't a fighter or a healer.  I didn't know how to survive battles.  The real one I had been in ended with stabbed in the shoulder.  I'd been a liability.

A thick stomping announced the brass hoof-clad Brimstone moving across the room.  He had been touring the defences. Many times I'd heard his voice cry out to force slavers into a better position or when to expect a push.  He may not have known how to fire too accurately, but it was clear Brimstone wasn't a 'Grand Warlord' for just the fancy title, with his grasp of tactics and understanding of his enemy.

    I'd just hid in here, away from all the fighting outside, oddly detached from it all.

Settling near me, the armour clattered as Brimstone sat down, and I saw one eye peering down at me.  He nodded at the pair of Glimmer and Caduceus, who were sat around an old rifle, Glimmerlight stripping it down while chatting to him about random nothings.

    “Seems that wee buck's gonna follow her wherever.  So, you coming along, kid?”

    Lifting my head out of my front hooves, I glanced up at the big earth pony with wide eyes.

    “N-no.”

    “Hmm?” He seemed surprised, turning more to face me.

I just looked away, quivering slightly.  I knew he didn't mean to put me under pressure.  It was just his way of life to be direct.

“I'm-I'm scared.” I rubbed my shoulder.  The sight of that knife pushing its way into my flesh, our encounter with the raiders had brought it all to the surface.  “I don't want hurt again. I'm afraid of Barb.”

“Everypony gets scared.” Brimstone spoke quietly, closing his eyes.  “Glim's scared of losing Coral. I'm scared of losing her. It's just about whether you can push it down, put on a brave face, and keep going.”

“But I'm not worth anything to this, I'd just get in the way.  This is just too direct, too big for me. It's best if I stay here and just pray for you all.”

    Brimstone shrugged.

“No need to stand still to pray.  Actions speak louder than words to the Goddesses, Murk.  You've made it this far, survived this much. You think I'd really let you hang around if I thought you were causing us problems?”

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.  Still shivering, I met his eyes before he slipped one hoof free of the brass weapons and gently tapped my head.  It still felt like being hit with a frying pan. He chuckled at my yelp.

    “Just have a think, Murk.  But you don't need to come if you don't want to.  Just know you're welcome.”

    Well, that was surprising.  Was he trying to make up for earlier?  That melancholy tone was in his voice again.

“I know I'd feel better knowing those ears of yours were watching out for us.  You've got a place with us now. But it's up to you. Just remember what you've already managed to do.  You're braver than you think.”

Getting up, the raider stomped off toward the window, glowering through it with gritted teeth.  I curled up again, whimpering as I heard another drawn out wail, a female voice this time from within the plaza.  The sound of Glimmer screaming shot back through my head like a sickening wave. Nothing waited in there but pain.  I'd be up against Barb. I couldn't beat him! He was just too good, too beyond any ability I had. He'd stalk us, outwit us, and kill me.  He'd hurt my friends.

    “Weapons here!  Get armed up!”

Mosin had returned, galloping in with a cart from the corridors where the battle still raged to hold the raiders at bay, a small wheeled tray of weapons right behind him pulled by another pony.  A younger assistant was guiding it. A unicorn buck, light grey as though a less severe version of Mosin himself, but clad in an oddly clean blue shirt. He hummed loudly as he polished an ornate pistol with gold trimmings and an patently absurd large scope on top the moment he stopped.  That was likely the extravagant assistant Mosin had mentioned outside the Stable.

    “Hoi!  Oyobuk!” Mosin clipped the assistant over the ear.  “I tell you! This is serious planning, not ebanatyi weapon convention!  Put away compensation, Blunderbuck, distribute rifles!”

    “Ow!  Don't talk about her that way.”

He rubbed his head, muttering something under his breath that I was sure only I heard.  Something about 'old fashioned blunt idiot who didn't know the beauty of a unique weapon if it was shoved up his—'

    “Is silly filly gun!  Not proper weapon unless at least slightly rusty and still working.  Proves is gun for stallion.  Now shut hole and get working or I morgaly vikalyu, padla!”

Outside, many slavers ran in, heads low.  Shots whined past the doorway of the security room.  Could Protégé not have put his planning room further from the front line!?

They clambered to the armoury cart, snapping up magazines, spare rounds, and energy cells for the rarer magic weapons.  A rush moved past my little hiding spot, clattering hooves on the floor making me hold my ears closed. Oh this was all too much.  Ponies were reloading, test sighting, sharpening knives all for the big fight.

    I spotted Protége running amidst it all.

“You there!  Get those mines down to the armoury floor as a last resort!  Hardnut, I want you to take three of your subordinates to guard the storage room against further flanking efforts, go!  Does anypo— DOWN!”   

At the command, everypony dropped. The toughened windows as they were peppered with gunfire.  Some flew right through, ricocheting around and lancing into slavers. I saw one ping from Brimstone's armour when he sheltered Glimmerlight.  Caduceus leapt immediately to a screaming slaver, holding him down to work on his neck. Five slavers sprayed blind fire from unicorn magic-held weapons over the broken sections of glass.  I huddled into the corner.

    Too much, just fighting and pain and death.  Too much...

    “Those were armour piercing rounds.  Mosin, how much stock of them did they possibly get!?”

    “Not much!  I must trust slavers with potato long before I trust them with AP rounds!”

“Those will chew through cover at the wrong time if they save them though.  We need something to even the odds. Do you think you can stock us up with some better equipment and ammunition?”

The strange armspony snorted.  “Is no trouble. Armoury is precisely for this role after all.  As you requested, I have brought appropriate weaponry upon cart from assistant.  All may arm from him for higher quality firearms!”

    His eyes crept over to Brimstone.

    “Even if means this svoloch' may break more rifles.”

    Brimstone stamped one brass hoof hard enough to make almost everypony jump in shock, myself included.

“Won't need any of your pop guns now.” He almost growled at the armspony as he wandered past him into the far side of the security room to wait.

Glimmerlight rubbed her chin with a hoof, cantering over to the cart.  Four more slavers were picked out as the arming up began. In the end, Glimmerlight had drawn a long rifle and simple pistol for herself, along with some leather armour stitched up with small metal plates on the shoulders.  She dropped Caduceus a larger saddlebag of stored medical supplies and a small sub-machine gun for self defence.

I simply stuck back from the rush to get at the weaponry.  Was I even allowed? Glancing across at Protégé, I saw him slipping some extra ammunition for his revolver into his battle barding.  My master glanced back at me even as his magic drew another small backup pistol to store in a second holster. Our eyes met briefly, or rather his eye.  Even with one visible, anything beyond the visage of Unity's student was hard to tell.

    “Right, everypony!  Briefing time, gather around, we don't have long!”   

    Thus began the sequence of planning.

    Everypony leaned in over the table, a couple dozen in all.

My friends turned back toward the table as slavers were pushing in.  Ragini swept through the larger doors from storage, returning from her hunt.  Brimstone and Caduceus trotted over. Glimmerlight stopped near me.

    “Made a decision, Murky?”

    She tried to offer a smile, but it was strained.  Her eyes held fear and apprehension, yet shone with determination.

    I didn't want to leave her. But in the end, I shook my head.

    “I'm not going. I...I just— sorry, I'm too scared of him.”

My eyes couldn't match hers. I looked away, curling up inside the cage to spend my time.  Her hoof gently ruffled my mane, leading me to look upwards again and see her grin.

    “It's alright, it's not going to be nice in there.  No shame, okay? We'll take care of it.”

With another gentle pat, she moved on toward the table.  I watched her go, followed by Caduceus. Everypony was coming together to help save a few slaves, Brim's raw power, Protégé and his slaver teams, Glimmer's training and stoic mindset, Caduceus' medical abilities; everypony throwing in every little ability they had.  How did they do it? How could they be so brave and go in there without being scared?

    Brimstone's words echoed back to me.  Everypony gets scared.

    But didn’t being brave mean that you weren't scared?

Protégé held the spot before the Mall's blueprints.  Already I could see markings with chalk on the paper that circled various corridors.

“Now, the raiders have broken well free of the areas we sought to contain them in.” Protégé's voice was terse.  “The guard room that should have held them has fallen, permitting them access to firearms and a defended position that makes a direct assault on the plaza incredibly difficult.  The only main entrance to the plaza is through the cage door. The very thing we used is now the biggest obstacle to us. It's a chokepoint. Not only that, but they've also branched out, here, here, and here.”

A small cane pointed to three corridors leading out from the guard room away from the plaza cage door.  Each had a red scrawled line.

    “In other words, polnyi pizdets.  Armoury is secure, but slaves have acquired much inventory from guards.” Mosin tossed his head back to his small cart, tapping that wooden hoof over what I guessed was the armoury on the map.  “There is no chance of them reaching the armoury now, however.”

“Good.” Protégé moved the cane.  “Those red lines show where we stopped them, but it's clear Barb knew exactly what he was doing.  Those positions were hard to take and cost him dearly, but very easy to defend from. Straight corridors with no cover and a hard shelter at the far end.”

Mosin grunted.  I began to wonder if he held more of a tactical position than I had previously realised within Protégé's staff of slavers.

    “Makes little difference, we have rocket propelled grenade.  Boom, yes?”

“Normally, yes.” My master's face sunk a little, before tapping the lines again with the cane.  “Those sick wretches have strapped the workers to their cover as living shields. Any assault would have to kill them to get by.  That is not something I will accept as a course of action.”

    Brimstone nodded, simmering a little.

“Just what I'd have done, but he won't kill them himself.  Those prisoners are all that's stopping anypony launching some hot metal down the corridor and blowing everything in it to hell.”

    “You're sure?”

“Barb isn't stupid.  He knows his raiders can't take a direct hit from a heavily armed and organised group in a meatgrinder assault.”

    That made Protégé pause a second, rubbing a hoof against his chin.

“Then why make this whole stand in the first place?  He must know that griffons or, if it got real bad, alicorns would simply wipe out the entire population.”

    Brimstone actually laughed, making many of the slavers cast unsure glances to one another.

“He's smart, but that don't mean the wee tryhard bastard's not still a raider!  They don't want a slow death in here, boy. They want to burn out in a blaze of glory.  To make people see their great last surge of violence and make all those behind fear them in their nightmares.  He doesn't want out of this.”

    Wait, no!  That wasn't true, Barb had said as much that he could get out and return to the wastes more powerful than before.  But why was he doing this then?  Why incite The Master against him by destroying his slaves?  He had a deal going. What was all this risk about?

I wanted to shout it, let them know he clearly had something else in mind, but those light green watchful eyes just kept staring into my heart from across the table.  He seemed to chuckle as I withered under his gaze.

“Then what do you propose, master?” Ragini had been quiet thus far, but spoke up, trying to divert the discussion back toward the matter of the mission.

“A good question, Ragini.  A question to the most experienced warfighter in this entire room.  Warlord Brimstone, what would you suggest is the best way to placate this gang?”

    Brimstone shot Protégé a harsh look.  “They are not a gang.  Get that thought from your head now or this is not going to last long.  They may not say it anymore, but they are a clan.  Strong as a group, ferocious in numbers, and without fear given proper motivation.  Death before failure. One strong leader can make a rag tag group of mad ponies into an unending wave of frenzied aggression.  They take after their leader. That's why so many of them are as brutal. They had me. But now many are shifting to Barb's style, deception and backstabbing with a sick streak to scare people.  He is their icon. Kill the leader, kill the brain and the soul in one stroke. They will be much easier to bring down after that.”

“You think we can get to him?  Last we spotted him from the internal windows, he was on the higher areas, deep within what is now their territory.”

“Barb is where he wants to be, don't trust your eyes with him.  As for hunting him?” He gestured to the slavers. “With this pish lot?  Not a chance.”

    The slavers erupted in protest, swearing at Brimstone.  Glimmerlight leaned in, muttering by his side.

    “Very diplomatic, Brim.”

Shackles slammed a hoof again, silencing them.  He had been quiet thus far, simply sitting there and thinking with a blank look.

    “Quiet down, all of you wretches!  I won't stand to see a stock under me lost like this!  Shut up and listen or get out now! Understand?”

That shut them up.  I wasn't even talking and I felt myself nodding along with them that I was now listening.  Protégé, meanwhile, seemed to go into thought for a while.

“Well, then we give them what they want, or what they think they'll be getting.  A distraction. We don't assault properly, but detonate a lot of explosives and throw a lot of deliberately inaccurate fire toward them.  Make it seem like a large storming that's just stalled and is consistently failing on their barricades. Take all their attention. I'll need three teams.  Shackles, I want you to organ—”

Protégé's eyes crossed across mine across the table and room.  He must have seen something in my look. He stopped on the spot, thinking deeply.  I knew he had his own suspicions.

“...no.  Mosin, make up three teams from the guard groups.  Call in any you need. Shackles, I want you to go and try to delay the griffons as long as you can.  Stern has already contacted me to say her raid team will not be considering workers a valued hostage to rescue.  We must get this done before they arrive.”

If The Master had spotted the divergence, he stayed quiet about it and carefully hidden.  Instead, he just gruffly snorted and tossed his filthy mane at the mundane job offer.

    “While we do what to get the slaves?”

    “A raid.  A small team shall infiltrate the plaza.  I believe there is an outside door leading to one of the shop cells.”

    So he did know.

“I will take a group including Brimstone, Ragini, and a select few others to launch a surgical strike into the heart of the raiders while the majority are distracted out in the guard room with the false assault.  The objective is simple. Kill Barb by any means and if possible. Clear one barricade from behind once we have a sustainable position inside the plaza. Other guards will follow us in greater numbers to cover our backs once the element of surprise is lost.  Fast, direct, and aggressive. Cut off the head and let the body wither.”

Glimmerlight immediately spoke up, shifting away from me to lift her front hooves onto the table, trying to take what authority she could.  I could feel her shivering. My poor friend was still feeling the shock of earlier.

“If there's a team going in, I'm going too.  We can try to secure the slaves inside or get them out the side door.  Some of them do not deserve this.”

    Shackles actually laughed.

    “Silence, slave.  Your masters will choose who goes and who stays.  You offered your help, but a rookie initiate is not going to alter our plans.”

“No.” Protégé spoke quickly.  “While I cannot say I fully agree with either of you, you are welcome to come and attempt to protect any we find or Coral should you locate her, Glimmerlight.  But Barb's death takes precedence to end the greater incident.”

    Glimmer hadn’t taken her eyes off The Master, looking very wary.

    “That's fine, so long as I get a chance to help them.”

    “Good.  Get your things ready, we will be leaving soon.”

Glimmerlight nodded firmly and turned to canter to the other side of the room, continuing to strip the long rifle down and pull parts from Mosin's cart. Without his knowledge, I noticed.

Caduceus glanced at her snapping it all together, joining the growing noise of preparations and then respectfully bowed his head to Protégé.

“You'll need a healer with you. I had already decided to follow Glimmer.  I suspect many of the slaves will require immediate attention after being under the raiders' activities.”

“That is acceptable, I would also wish to ask you, Murk, if you wish to accompany the raid team.  That hearing could provide a useful asset. That and a pony who can sneak around may be helpful against the Shades.  Will you accompany us?”

    Words caught in my throat.  I'd been simply a bystander to all the important ponies in their planning and discussion.  Now I felt eyes on me, everypony at the table had shifted to look across the room. I could see the same look on Protégé's face as Glimmer's.  There was no shame to say no.

    I wanted to say yes, I really did.

But I simply looked away, curling up again.  My body was shivering and aching from wounds that, although healed, still seemed to hurt the more I thought about what these ponies were preparing for.

    Just a coward.

    I heard Protégé sigh lightly, before tapping for attention.

“The rest of you, stock up on every explosive and louder weapon you can to make the false offensive as convincing as possible.  Mosin, find four of the best guards in the Mall to join us for the raid. Nine should be large enough for the team. Assault teams, be ready to make the push if we clear a barricade.Once inside, force a perimeter to any slaves and evacuate them above all else!  This is our time to show them that their service is valued more than any. We move in fifteen minutes, so we'll only have a short time to make it happen. Let's do it!”

    The cheer hardly sounded enthusiastic, but everypony split off into a mass of final readiness.

Three stallions and one mare appeared from Mosin's picking and moved quickly to the weapons cart, stripping it almost bare of what remained.  Two of the stallions, earth ponies, took a riot shotgun each and a couple of heavy duty pistols. The others, the unicorn stallion and mare, acquired carbines, one as a dual barrelled battle saddle (That lucky...).  All stuck with the thick padding of their slaver guard, strapping a couple of cylindrical canisters to themselves and making sure their gas masks were ready.

    They were going on what sounded like a suicide mission.

Glimmerlight racked shut the bolt of the rifle with her hooves, while holding a few test rounds in her magic.  She'd left small parts all over the floor, instead crafting what looked like crude metal sights for the top out of some scrap.  Her face was still and serious, concentrating on the work. Even as I watched, she moved on to a spark battery, stripping the casing off till I could see the pulsating magic gem at the centre.  She held it near the barrel. What was she planning with that thing?

How could she think so calmly to do this?  Going in with a team to the centre of almost a hundred raiders?  They were all probably going to die! What let them make the choice?

    Glimmerlight's eyes hadn't looked brave, but she was going in there anyway.

I just didn't understand.  How could you be brave and scared at the same time?  That wasn't how it worked, right? I wished I had time to tune into the radio. The DJ would know what to say, how the 'good fight' worked.

But there was another voice in my memory.  The mare. Back when I had been beaten down, hurt and degraded in front of an entire city, she had been willing to stand up and show her support of me, despite her fear of The Master.  She'd said something.

    “Please, don't give up. There is a bright future.  You will find your courage, Murky.”

After those words, I'd stood on my own and walked almost proudly away, not letting The Master have the satisfaction of me being hurt before her.

    I'd been scared, but I'd done it anyway.

Back in the Stable, when I had been trapped, separated from the ponies I had only then begun to see as friends, I had finally begun to know what it was like to take strength in others.  To trust and have confidence in somepony.

    I'd been scared then too, but Glimmer had talked me into knowing I could do it anyway.

Was that what bravery was?  To be scared, but to be able to stand up tall and push through even when your mind tells you it won't end well?  To take the risks because you know they have to be done?

I was so scared of Barb.  That one pony was everything I feared.  Somepony I couldn't hear or sneak away from.  His raiders had caused me pain and tears in so many amounts.  They had almost hurt Glimmerlight beyond thinking not one hour ago.  They had to be stopped.

Another voice I remembered, much more recently, the Ministry Mare herself, Twilight Sparkle.  The twinkling lights of that star-shape message emerged in my mind to utter those words.

    “Make friends, take time to make amends, do not be afraid to fight if in defence of a better world.  This message is to let you see from me the thoughts and fears of everypony now. We're all dreaming of the same peace, even if we don't know it.  Good luck.”

    Brimstone was right.  Everypony was scared. We were all afraid, but we all wanted the same thing in the end.

A final voice, amidst the clutter and banging of the battle and arming up. It was so clear, just like before in the wreck of Mosin's wagon outside the city.

    “The obstacles in our path can be overcome if we just work together.  So don't abandon those you care about y'hear? Only by sticking together can we truly save lives and make ourselves better, no matter what horrors we all must share along the way.”

    The DJ had inspired me to take up arms before to defend my friends. Yet now, very quickly, a greater fear began to come to mind.  I had seen the raiders execute somepony in the plaza, heard them torture others.

    What if those were my friends next time, and I simply had to sit in here and listen to it happen?

Those words, from ponies I cared for, that I had been inspired by, or had learned from circled around my mind, repeating, meshing together their messages.  My eyes were clenched shut, hearing ponies scream for help before being cut short in drawn out and agonising howls of pain. I heard slavers planning and shouting orders.  Heard Brimstone galloping around, tirelessly aiding in the defence I hadn't even worked up courage to look at.  Heard Glimmerlight muttering nothing but numbers and theories about her weapon work.

But those three voices cut through my cluttered head.  The DJ, Twilight Sparkle, and the nameless mare. They’d told words of courage, of hope, and of inspiration.

“Only by sticking together can we truly save lives and make ourselves better, no matter what horrors we all must share along the way.”
   
“Make friends, take time to make amends, do not be afraid to fight if in defence of a better world.”

“Please, don't give up. There is a bright future.  You will find your courage, Murky.”

They whirled, as I remembered them time and time again. Those voices that had helped me in each individual case finally coming together. The one message I knew they had all been telling made up of their combined words.  The message that in one beautiful moment of clarity, shut out all sound as I heard it simply spoken in my mind.

    “Only by sticking together can we truly save lives.  Do not be afraid to fight if in defence of a better world.  You will find your courage, Murky.”

I stood, quickly grabbing my saddlebag, fighting back the tears.  I had come this far, survived Ministries, a Stable, the Fillydelphia crater, the parasprite pits, and even survived two escape attempts.  Each had required me to gather my courage again and again. They were nothing near as dangerous as this was going to be.

    But it had to be done.  I couldn't let them face it alone.

Galloping across the security station, I ran into the room where everypony was gathering.  Just let The Master watch me. I wasn't beaten yet.

Glimmerlight, Brimstone, Caduceus, Protégé, Ragini, The Master, Mosin, and every other slaver present turned at my pitter pattering hooves running in.  Stopping, tears dripping from my eyes, I tried to get my breath through a rough heat scorched throat.

    “I'm...I'm in.  I'm scared b-but it needs to be done...”

Glimmerlight smiled.  I even saw Brimstone nod in respect.  Protégé maintained watching me, before grinning slightly with a knowing tilt of his head.  The Master seemed to chuckle from the back of the room, but stayed quiet. I stomped my front hooves, trying to look serious.  This was a proper rescue, I couldn't let myself lose momentum.

    “So...”

    They all craned in, curious.

    “What do I do first?”

The silence that lasted was somewhat uncomfortable, broken only by Ragini snorting with laughter into a wing.  I even caught Glimmerlight lightly chuckling. Hey...

    Protégé just nodded and stomped a hoof on the blueprints.

    “Your aid is greatly welcomed, Murk.  May I request your presence with the raid team?”

    I had to stick with my friends, be brave for them.

    “Y-yes, I’ll be there..”

    I felt my heart thump hard, sensing the inevitable slide into something I didn't want to do edging past the point of no return.  Terror clenched at me. I'd just agreed to go into this. Oh Goddesses.

    “Good.  Fetch the armament you require.  I want you beside me for this, warn me if you hear anything.”

    “Yes, master.”

I turned, trotting over on shaky legs to the weapons cart.  I found it almost empty in the wake of my friends and the slavers.  All that was left were some long rifles larger than myself and a small series of revolvers that I just knew would be a nightmare to reload.  Umming and aahing, I paced around the cart, biting my lip.  No battle saddles? Oh come on.   

    “Murk, is something wrong?” Protégé wandered past, checking his own revolver.

    “I...I don't know what to pick.  I'm not really f-familiar with guns...”

    “I see.” He turned away from me.  “Mosin! Can you sort something out for little Murk here?”

“Negative.  Nothing in the cart that won't break his little teeth.  I assumed you only wanted tiny pony for warning when he cries or to act as distraction.” Mosin seemed to chuckle a little at me.

    Protégé did not laugh.

    “I am not prone to wasting those under me, Mosin.  Find him something. I won't leave Murk unprotected.”

    “Fine, fine, but not me.  Too much real work to do arming ponies who won't leave puddle on each shot.  Blunderbuck! Blunderbuck, where are you?”

The assistant reappeared from where he had been helping one of the slavers to attach grenades to his barding in a floral pattern and began waltzing his way across the floor to join us.  Right, this buck was a little weird.

    “Blunder, reporting!”

“Find this filly weapon.  Take to the armoury and get something that will function on his level.  Don't take too long to equip the little filly or—”

    “Uh, Mosin, I don't think he's a fill—”

    “Could have fooled me!  Now toropit'sya!”

The buck saluted dramatically on the spot, before spinning in a completely unnecessary direction to face me, smiling entirely too much.

    “Are you ready to get ready, friend?”

    “Uh...”

    I never had a chance to finish what I was thinking of saying.

    “Let's get you to the armoury! Oh we are going to have such fun finding you something!”

Slack jawed at the entirely over enthusiastic, sing-song voiced Blunderbuck, I just stared to the side, noting Glimmerlight nodding her head encouragingly.

    “Go with him, Murky.  He's alright, I’ve worked with him before”

    Blunderbuck brightened up.

    “Ah!  You remember me!  Yes, Murky, is it?  Wonderful!”

    Protégé trotted past, away from the cart, nodding to his assistant armourer and myself.

“Be back within a few minutes if you can. We commence in ten minutes, with or without.  We'll only have an hour or so to commence the raid.”

    “Got it, sah!”

    “Y-yes, master.”

    I felt myself being pulled by Blunderbuck out into the hallway, where he happily trotted beside me.

    “S-so, what are we going to do, um, specifi-specfu...exactly?”

“Do?” He asked with wide eyes.  “Dear Murky, this is an important thing. A pony's proper outfitting is like acquiring a new suit!  Oh we must find you that something that fits just right. Oh yes, I know you'll just love them! And they'll love you!”

    He took off at a gallop, his magic pulling me lightly along.

    “This will be so fun!  Time to find a gun!  Oh yes!”

    The armoury was gigantic in the Mall.  Behind a dozen guards and a huge door that was over a foot thick, it was even more secure than storage or the plaza. This must have been some sort of safe vault back in Old Equestria.  But now, the large cages within it contained benches and racks of all sorts of weaponry. Massive wall docks housed shelf after shelf of parts and boxes of ammunition. Another cage had explosive warning signs all over it.  All this from just the entrance, and I could see it only went further in.

Blunderbuck danced his way into it, springing from hoof to hoof before spinning to face me, a rather too large smile on his face as I trotted in, wide eyed.

“Oh, Murky my dear, I cannot express my delight!  It's abundantly clear that somewhere in here is the gun that will fit you just right!”

Carefully trotting away from all warning signs, I followed him into the primary workshop, surrounded by all sorts of bizarre de-constructed firearms.  Nervously, I tried to offer at least some requirements to avoid breaking my own mouth.

“I uh, can't wait to get started.  But first, can I say a few things? It's kinda important the gun that I get, is something that's quiet and small.”

    He swaggered past me, passing a hoof around my neck briefly to wink and dive off into one of the large cages.

    “Quiet!  Small! Got it!”

A dull crash sounded as he dragged a box off of a cabinet top to dig around, shouting out to me as he searched.  I picked at what seemed to be a giant cannon with a tiny bayonet attached to the end.

    “I have so many wonderful firearms, just wait!  You will see!”

I poked my head in the cage, finding him surrounded by a wealth of guns strewn all over the floor.  He looked like one of the foals I'd seen in a Hearth's Warming Eve poster years ago with presents.

    “Can I have something that fires a small bullet, so it won't hurt me?”

    “Sure!  How 'bout a shotgun?  It's loud and proud and big as can be!”

    The massive combat shotgun hovered up in front of me, the barrel about as wide as my hoof.  Even I found myself looking around it with a little exasperation.

    “...loud, proud?  Have you even seen me?”

“Ah...well.  Murky, have faith!” He threw one hoof around me, the other arcing out over the racks of pistols, rifles and shotguns.  “You see I will bet you...that somewhere in here is the gun that will get you!  Come on! I've got everything from mouth-held to battle saddles!”

    I gasped on the spot.  Yes! “Battle saddles sound good!  I'd like one of th—”

I was distracted by a crash, caused by Blunderbuck throwing open another cage door and dragging out a box filled to the brim with pistols of all shapes and sizes.  Digging through it eagerly, he drew one, shoving it right into my mouth without so much as asking.

    “Really?  Because I think this big magnum has your name written all over it!  Aww...look it matches your mane!”

Glancing down, I saw the grip did indeed have a wooden construction rather similar to my own filthy hair, but the chambers revealed bullets liable to make me swallow the gun if I fired it.  Sighing, I spat it back into the box.

    “Uh...pass.”

But Blunderbuck was already gone, heaving open a third of the tall cage doors to throw out weapon after weapon that, standing in the main workshop, I found myself dodging repeatedly.  Behind him, I could see two larger cages in the darkness, heavily secured with more advanced locks. I could swear there was a pony shaped something back there. Something big, easily a foot taller than Brimstone himself.

    “I have so many wonderful choices for you to decide!”

Galloping back out, he threw or dragged a couple of items up to me whilst I glanced into the back of the room until I was literally surrounded.

    “There are big launchers and guns for massive fun!”

Indeed. All of them had long bullets or thick grenade shells dropped near them as examples.  Finding my lower body half buried in them as I sat down, I just sighed on the spot.

    “Launchers and big hunting guns are not quiet!”

Blunderbuck trotted over, almost disappointed looking before he nudged one of the thick grenade launchers, or rather the enlarged places where what seemed like small artillery shells would go instead.  Mister Peace would have gotten along with Blunderbuck, I was certain.

    “Maybe not, but I've heard of this particular shell launcher throwing people ten feet in the air when it lands!”

Urgh.  This buck was just insane.  I'd likely be better off asking Glimmer if I could borrow her backup pistol again.  I stood up, crawling out from under the pile of firearms and weapons.

    “That's all, I think.  I'm gonna head outta here and—”

    “Wait!  There must be a gun here that will fit the ticket; how 'bout a minigun or a nice flamer?”

    His magic pulled them out, holding the massive weapons beside him.  True to Mosin's tale before, I could see a sniper scope on the flamer.  What was with this...

    Wait.

    Those weapons were attached to battle saddles!  Eee!  Maybe he had one in my size!

    “Smaller and lighter!”

“Smaller, lighter, right!” Blunderbuck dropped the heavy equipment onto the ground haphazardly (was that flamer full!?) and darted off to his workbench, where he started yanking a small mesh crate from below it, snapping together various parts.  “I've got just the thing in this box, Murk! Meet your new fabulous big sniper!”

Holding it out proudly, I saw a silver and gemstone decorated anti-machine rifle emblazoned with some unknown writing along the side.  It was garish to my art minded eyes, but just seemed to be like any other of the half dozen big rifles I could see on the walls.

    “It's...just a big and loud sniper.”

    “Not just any big and loud sniper!  A silenced big and loud sniper!”

He pointed with a hoof to a tiny bit on the end of the barrel that looked like it would silence it in the same way that me standing on a small book would make me tall.

    “So, um, like I said...”

    I sighed, turning to face the rather dejected looking armourer pony.  He held the silver rifle close.

“Blunderbuck, please, these won't do it.  Any gun in my mouth will just hurt me. I need something on a saddle, something tiny!  With recoil that won't make me defy gravity!”

“Hmm...” Blunderbuck rubbed his chin, scratching his light grey coat.  The rifle folding and disassembling back into the box. He began casting his eyes toward a yet untouched cage that only now I saw was filled with straps...saddles!  “I'm sensing you want a gun that's small.”

    Even I couldn't cull the deadpan tone from my voice.  “You think?”

Not one to seemingly let my denial of his favourite big guns get the better of him, Blunderbuck swivelled on the spot, smiling the moment he came to face me again.  I hated to admit it, but the joyful eccentric manner was starting to catch me up in his sheer enthusiasm. Especially as it might have a battle saddle by the end of it!

He began scrambling to throw open the cage door, ushering me inside before grabbing a measuring tape with his magic and checking me over with it.

    “I have plenty of wonderful guns that'll go by your side!  Like a sweet combat shotty or a giant dual IF-Nine!”

    “Better, but smaller!”

He began to pull some leather straps with small gears and slides of metal off the racks, wrapping them around me.  I could barely contain my excitement, he was customising it for me!  I was getting my very own at last!  But what to have on it? Oh the possibilities!

    “I see.  Well how bout a carbine, or a sawn off or a pistol?  There are so many wonderful firearms the likes of that.”

    Each swept into the cage or down from above to hang before me where I let my wide eyes glance across them. Oooh...

    “Or there are plasmas and lasers, they both have no recoil!  Or perhaps what you need is a hushed and poisoned dart?”

    “Now you're talking!”

The odd contraptions for energy weapons hurt my brain to even imagine how they worked.  But bright coloured flashes sounded really cool! I could even make them match my coat and mane!  I wanted to skip in a circle, but the gradually building light battle saddle around me held me in place.  I heard a whirring and sliding as it wound its way around my fleece, attaching little spindles and mechanical instruments to one side.  The hooks for weaponry and tools went on next!

Blunderbuck hopped around me. If anything, his voice became higher pitched the more he wildly got excited.  But I cast my eyes across the half dozen weapons arrayed before me. I wasn't even really into shooting, but a battle saddle was just so cool that I had no idea what to pick for it.  When would I ever get the chance again? My fear of the mission was thrown back, hidden for now by the delight of all this choice.

    “Hm. But instead of just one stand out, now that's too many!”

He craned a hoof over me, holding his head against mine.  Normally, I'd have recoiled at somepony being so close, but too much excitement was whirling around in my body to care.

    “Not a bad problem to have if you ask me!”

    Once again, I cast my eyes over it, feeling the momentum of the moment and his excitement mesh with my own.

    “The darts would be awesome, but the carbine I'm liking too.  Do you have something in a longer ranged dart?”

    “No, but I've got a dart that's less than lethal, if them dying's not for you!”

    Argh, so much choice!  “Oh...what to do, what to do...OH!”

    I visibly hopped, an idea finally coming to mind!

    “Of course!  That's it! There's really just one way, to find the gun that really suits me best!”

Blunderbuck's eyes widened, seemingly confused as I hopped into the racks and racks of small pistols, searching and searching.

    “A shiny pistol!  That's small! Quiet and polite, that will fit on this saddle just right!”

    Aha!  There it was!  My hooves dumped dozens upon dozens of pistols out of the way or threw open the cages to spot it.  Rarity's Grace lay atop a pile, right where it had been left!  As gorgeous looking as ever, it would sit gracefully and artistically upon this new battle saddle of mine!  I grabbed it in my mouth, before it flew out again from Blunderbuck's magic and began to clip on amongst the various fragile pieces he was attaching to my sides.

    “Don't forget style!  That should be considered!”

    “So we know for sure it won't sparkle and glitter?”

    “For the one who is sneaky and small...”

    “Just like me!”

Finally, leather straps and a small metal frame descended over it.  The entire saddle felt tiny on me, tight fitting and thin, with Rarity's Grace covered by thin black leather to hide the sheen.  This saddle was probably the lightest one I'd ever seen to fit me, and only capable of holding small weaponry and tools, but I didn't care!  I had one! I had one at last!

    “It might hold much less, but it feels the best!”

    “Cos it's all measured up just for you, see?”

Blunderbuck laughed out loud at hearing my pleasure with it.  Pulling a strap tight to latch the mouthpiece to my...side? Well that was interesting, but with a quick flick of my hoof, pulled by Blunderbuck, the mouthpiece whipped off my side and flicked around to be ready in front of my jawline.  Oh wow!  Another flick sent it flipping back out of the way!  But it didn't restrict me moving at all! It was just an extra little bit of leather and metal that sat around me to support light arms and things!  I smiled so much to Blunderbuck. Why couldn't all slavers be as cool as him?

    “This is the number one, greatest, and perfectest saddle in the world for me!”

    Armed up, no, saddled up, I trotted in a circle, grinning, before heading to the doorway.  Rarity's Grace felt snug and smooth beside me under a little flap of dark leather to stop it glinting.  Blunderbuck accompanied me into the corridor before waving goodbye.

    “Then let the mission begin...and may the best side win!”

With a laugh, I turned and galloped off back toward the briefing.  I'd be scared as all hell soon, but for now, I could be happy with a proper little saddle just for me at last!

    ...eee!

Unfortunately, merely owning a battle saddle didn't particularly make me feel any more powerful en-route back to the security room.  Twice I was ushered by galloping slavers to simply flee with them away from a barricade as armour piercing rounds ripped through it. The corridors were a warzone of barely blocked off defences holding the ferocious raiders inside.  They weren't the best shots, but they had a frenzied courage to not flinch from any incoming fire.

Sticking low, I dodged under slavers that returned the shots with their own, squealing whenever somepony kicked my small form out of the way or knocked past me in doorways.

I just stayed happy inside, tried to force it all out, and concentrated on the reassuringly tight and comfortable feel of a little battle saddle around me.  Yes, stay happy, stay brave.

    The thought occurred that Protégé must really trust me to simply hand me a weapon for the raid.  Not too long ago, he had shot me.  From taking so long to properly heal, I now had a scar on my chest from that.  He had stood before me, denied me, and brought me down with a bullet. Now I was being permitted to be around him, carrying a loaded firearm.

    The shock of the thought made me stop just outside the doorway to the security room.

    What if I'd been the one with a gun?  Could I have pulled the trigger if he had been in my way to freedom?

Somehow, achingly, I began to suspect that I could not have.  Despite everything that he had done to me, I could not envision myself in that position and going through with the last horrific pull of a trigger to find freedom at the cost of killing somepony who seemed to care for me, as twisted as that kindness was.

Sighing and trotting inside, I found most ponies still in a state of half-readiness.  Somepony had dumped armour and suits from the security station lockers on the floor, where they had been stripped of their metal plates.  But the atmosphere was different. Nopony was really talking. Most seemed to be in their own little worlds; checking weapons, carving wood with magic into little shapes, cleaning a bolt or barrel.  Brimstone paced nearby. I couldn't see him in this portion of the multi-roomed security station, but I could certainly hear him.  Part of me wanted to talk to him, but even with our little exchange earlier, I just didn't feel quite ready to know what to say to the hulking raider so soon after his complete rampage in the storage room.

Everypony had their little tricks to keep themselves distracted, to try and prepare themselves mentally for the upcoming storm.  I could see Glimmerlight still working around her long rifle, attaching the spark battery to the end of the barrel. It's light blue glow shone through the protective casing with clearly overloaded energy.  I could see three other drained batteries near her. Whatever she was up to, I doubted I wanted to be near it when it went off.

She looked up as I trotted nearer, smiling widely to me.  But I'd been around her long enough to spot when it was just her forcing it.  Even Glimmerlight couldn't be too happy about this situation. She'd had a rough day with Coral revealing her secrets to us all and then the encounter with Barb's raiders.

    “You're looking swanky in that saddle, Murky.  It suits you!”

    I tried to smile as well, succeeding in a much less effective manner.

    “T-thanks.  It just feel good to have, and-and look!”

I twitched my front leg, making the mouthpiece pop out and flick around on sprung gears.  The oh-so-satisfying sound made my smile a little more genuine. With the same movement, I sent it back, then out again.  Eventually, Glimmerlight just laughed, reaching over to ruffle my mane. But her eyes were more serious, looking into mine.

“Good stuff.  Loving the flick action.  But I'd prefer if you didn't need to use it.  Please, Murky, try to stay back from the fighting when it starts.  I don't know how I'd feel if I had to lose you so soon after we've met, y'know?  After hearing from Coral I just...”

    She looked away, then back, before hugging me tightly.

“I just feel glad knowing there's still a few folks care for an free living, spontaneous mare like myself.  Don't think I didn't see you trying to help when those raiders.”

I just tugged tightly back, nuzzling into my 'sister's' shoulder.  My voice was muffled, but I tried to make it as sincere as I could.

“I just wanted you to be okay.  I don't know what I'd have done up till now without you.  If I'd been left to hear Sundial talk about his mother without you around t-to help...”

“We help each other, Murky.  We're both hurting, but we're in this hell together.  But, I have to save Coral now, no matter what, I'm going all out.  So, if anything happens in there—”

    I cut her off.  “No. We'll both—”

    Glimmer didn't even let me continue.  “If anything happens to me, I want you to stick with Brim, alright?  He says he's all for me, but I know he's better than that.  He'll protect you.”

    Already I could feel my eyes tearing up, but I held it back at just a few drips, forcing myself to nod.  “I will...”

“Thanks, Murky.  But don't worry, there's plenty of fight left in this mare yet.  Now, go see Caduceus, he wants to check you over before we head in.  Don't worry about me.”

She tapped the strange rifle she was toying with.  I could actually see the individual bullets all popped open to be adjusted with something.  What was she doing?

“I've got plenty of bang all readied up for those bastards in there.  We'll go in, get the slaves, kill Barb, and then piss off to the Roamer to get stinking drunk.  Might even try to hook you up with somepony.”

I blushed on the spot, feeling embarrassment overwhelm even fear for one wonderful moment of simple worry.  I hugged her once more, before leaving Glimmer to her work and wandering toward a huge pile of armour that had the nurse earth pony sitting near it sat nearby.

Caduceus was leaning on the wall and organising his medical supplies into neat rows, organising and counting.  Most apparently for his pack or into the armour he had pulled from the pile earlier for quick reaching. Bandages, small healing potions, and a couple syringes stood out to me.  He brushed that thick blonde mane from his face to glance at me. Compared to most of the slave bucks, he seemed better fed, likely due to his specialised role, giving him a much more reassuring 'non-filthy slave' feel to permit him to check me over.

    “Ah, Murk.  How are you feeling after those healing potions?”

    “Better. My shoulder and chest don't hurt really anymore.  But I still feel...”

    “Beaten?  Unsettled?”

    “Yeah.  My ribs and eyes hurt, and my forehead...”

Caduceus motioned for me to sit as he checked me over, resting his hoof over my chest or examining my scar.  The young buck was firm, professional, and oddly comforting. He'd proven his will to help out by putting himself in harm’s way for us twice already and by helping heal me after Barb's raiders had their way.

    “You are mostly fine.  I believe it's mostly just the body knowing it's not quite right yet.  Healing potions, for all their power, are pretty imprecise. We never can tell quite where most of their power is going to go if somepony has as many hurt parts as you did.  But I can assure you, as far as such a hurt little pony as you can be, you've got nothing critical other than your lungs left over for this mission. Even your shrapnel wound closed up at last.”

He was right. Although I'd tried to ignore the hideous mark the chunk of shrapnel had left on my lower leg, it had stopped bleeding since I'd stolen The Master's healing potions.  That was worth smiling about, right? I tried to do so to Caduceus. Really, I'd given him too little credit.

    “Caduceus, I, uh...thanks.”

    “It's alright, Murky.  Just doing what I do. Or what I should be doing, anyway.”

I must have raised an eyebrow in confusion, as he looked right at me and began to explain before I could even voice the question.  Darn healers...always so perceptive.

    Caduceus settled down, letting the armour barding fall before him lightly.

“See, Murky, like I was saying before, I've spent all my time in Helpinghoof Clinic or in Hearts and Hooves Hospital.  I've had patients brought to me again and again, handing me nothing more than the instructions to take care of them. My only goal was to be an actual doctor, like Helpinghoof himself or Weathervane.  But it was just...horrible, now that I think about it.”

    “Horrible?”

“Every day, ponies were being wheeled in to me, hurt or dying.  Many we would save or help out, but there was always more. The wasteland or Fillydelphia, they just created more and more ponies with injuries, hurt so many that our job was nothing but just hour after hour of pain and seeing torment.”

    He stopped, shrugging.

“I guess...I guess meeting you guys, I've just realised I don't want that.  I don't want to be the one who just sits in a clinic waiting for people to get hurt.  I'm no grand healer, but I can't ignore this chance here, to use my skills in a way to prevent harm, not just cure it.  If that includes offering my healing knowledge to you in your escape, I'm in.”

That was pretty admirable, I had to admit.  The thought of him accompanying us was very comforting.  But the buck bashfully seemed to bite his lip.

    “So, uh, I know Glimmer's fine with me but...if I may be as forward, would you accept me as one of your little group?”

    The question surprised me.  Me being given some sort of query for permission?  But he deserved it. He really did.

    “Um...sure?”

    Much to my surprise, he leaned forward, quickly giving me a hug.  I just sat in shock. What was he—

“Thank you.  Sorry to sort of throw that on you, but really, I felt you needed to know Glimmer isn't the only one of us around you who feels you need a little hug now and again.  You are a poor little thing.”

That I guess I could be fine with.  I could tell he was speaking the truth.  Coughing into my hoof, still feeling a little awkward, I just mumbled a thank you.  Having friends still felt so new. The idea that ponies could just be so nice and comforting to one another like this felt so strange.

    “Now, I better get all this organised.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared witless, but a stand’s a stand, right?”

    “S-sure.  I'll just get some armour or something.”

    He nodded, smiling and turning back to his own saddlebag and barding.   

Trotting toward the pile of armour, I began piecing through it, carefully attempting to not make a noise that would disturb the dozen or so ponies around me that lay in wait for the time to move.  Everything outside, the raider attacks, the desperate defence, and the cries of the slave hostages every so often as they were thrown and shoved into cells with each other for 'storage', it all seemed muted in here.  Two ponies watched the window, training rifles through it that kept most raiders out of line of sight.

Somehow, I was more afraid of making a noise here than when trying to avoid most slavers out to get me, like I would disturb their peace.

Most of the armour was simply too big or heavy for me.  Some plates of armour, stripped from combat barding, looked the right size, but upon lifting were immensely heavy, as though from a highly dense material.  I dragged out a small vest. It seemed the right size; all nice and black, too! But a quick examination found the actual armour inside had been stripped out.  Just my luck.

Digging through more, I found one that still had its armour plates inside.  While not black, it was still dark blue and seemed about the right size I could sew down a little and fit into if I had time.  It certainly seemed like a uniform of the ponies who worked here. I couldn't read, but even I could recognise the same shape of words.  This one bore an emblazoned word in bright yellow upon its back, the same as above the door to this room's station, one all too easy to guess.

    'SECURITY'

    Immediately, I simply dropped it from my hooves, sighing at a lack of anything worthwhile.  What kind of idiot would wear something like that?  Anypony would see those bright yellow letters for miles!  You couldn't hide and sneak around with them.

Eventually, I simply decided to forget anything big.  Armour wasn't my thing, as I'd found in the past. It only slowed me down or made it harder to squeeze into little places.  If I was being shot at, I was doing something wrong anyway. It'd be better to just stay light and as agile as my frail little body could ever manage, and avoid everything altogether.  To that end, I simply took a few small pieces of thickened leather to shove inside my fleece around my torso. At the very least it'd stop it hurting so much when I hit the ground from diving or being thrown.

Pulling my fleece and battle saddle (Eee!) back on, I began to trot around, looking for someplace to curl up in and wait myself.  I would sketch until the time to go, hopefully of good things to calm my mind that was quickly beginning to readjust, and remember what I'd agreed to do here.  I'd have to draw something very nice to distract myself. Something that would make me smile and feel happy and warm inside and...

    ...and I could almost hear Glimmerlight teasing me in my mind for thinking of what my mind had defaulted to.  Oh come on, now she was invading my own subconscious?

But trotting through the station, I instead spotted one pony standing separate from everypony else.  Ragini was leaned against the cage I'd wanted to go into anyway, fiddling with the scope on her light flyer's rifle.  But Protégé, he stood alone, apart from everypony else near an internal window that gave security guards of old a view into the plaza.  It was pock marked with bullet impacts, clearly until somepony gave up trying to get him through it.

I could see his face reflected in it, looking more sombre and forlorn than I'd ever imagined he could.  Without really knowing why, I began quietly trotting up towards my master. His revolver floated in the air beside him, reloading, unloading, and reloading again. A consistent and ongoing fidgeting from his telekinesis.  Spotting me in the window, he turned just enough for his one visible eye to see me.

    “I see you've acquired something you always longed for then, Murk?  Good for you.”

    “Yes, master. Thank you.”

Trotting up further, I hopped up to peer into the plaza.  It was mostly empty, but clouds of smoke emerged from burning wood near the fountain.  Clearly, most of them were all in the shop cells for cover or underneath us in the guardroom for defence from slaver assaults.  I had to stifle my whine as I saw the horrific sight of two ponies hung from the balconies that connected either side of the higher levels above the floor.  Their limp bodies, one buck and one mare, swayed gently.

We said nothing more for a few seconds, while I tried to pull myself together.  Protégé seemed to gaze at everything and yet nothing in any detail. He didn't even turn to me as he finally broke the silence.  Speaking softly and barely moving his lips.

    “I had a dream once, you know? Still get it sometimes.”

    “Huh?”

    He stared ahead, talking quietly.

“A dream of Equestria. Of green fields, bright sunlight, and vivid colours amongst a peaceful and safe world for everypony.  Of a time in which there are no divisions between individuals, and no hatred of purpose and direction. A world in which we did not live in fear that we'd never get to be what we truly wanted.  No masters, no slaves; simply a free nation of opportunity and optimism. As best I can, I pursue that dream, Murk. Master Red Eye gave me this chance to create a world which I might be prouder of than the one I was born into.”

He lifted a hoof, placing it on the glass, and gazing intently past it into the plaza, at the atrocities committed within, at the bloodstained and wrecked shop fronts.  I had seen this world Protégé spoke of in Aurora's memory orb. Had he done the same? He was a unicorn after all.

    “But this...this just isn't what I ever wanted to happen.”

I turned my head to look at him. I could see a look on his face I'd only once seen before atop a roof outside Fillydelphia. Pain.  Pain, and sadness deep in his eyes. He wasn't a harsh taskmaster or cruel overseer. Right now all I saw was one pony who longed for something better than the hoof even he had been dealt.

    “I'm sorry, master.”

“No, Murk.  It is I who is sorry.  For everything you've been through as a part of all this whole mess in Fillydelphia.  Nopony deserves to be born a slave, to never even know or be allowed to choose their own life.”

I shuffled on the spot, turning to the window again, feeling a little awkward to see my master express such emotion even through a simple look.

    I barely muttered in response. “Uh, I meant, I'm sorry that all this has happened. In here.”

Protégé glanced briefly at me, as though judging to see if I were truly meaning it.  I was surprised to find I did. Even if I felt guilty inside at helping cause it.

“Thank you, Murk.  I'm just glad you and your friends are safe at the very least.  But I have let down those I swore to protect. If I had the resources or options to keep those raiders separate, I would have.  Fillydelphia, for all its ideals, I sometimes wish could do more to help those who don't deserve such a life in here.”

An awkward silence took over again.  It was clear exactly who part of that last sentence was really meant to refer to.  Resting my head on my hooves that were up on the window lip, I simply remained beside him for a while.  But something began to bug me. From his journal I'd seen and from the things I'd heard every slaver say about him, he just felt so out of place amongst slavers.

    “M-master, can I ask you, s-something, um...before we go in there?”

    “Of course, Murk.”

    I scuffed a hoof, trying to build the courage to just ask.  Finally, I took a breath and spoke.

    “Why are you with Red Eye?”

My master still didn't turn round, his eye following one slave as she made a break for it below, trying with all her might to stand, gallop, and escape; before being dragged right back into her cage by a raider.

Eventually, his eyepiece clicked off, hovering around before his face where he simply stared at the little device as though it alone contained the answer.

    “To find freedom.”

Those were not the words I expected.  Swivelling on the spot, I more properly faced him, finding both of those bright red eyes staring back at me.  Only now did I begin to see how unkempt and clearly run-ragged he was amongst the riot that had shattered his work in the Mall apart.  His mane had straggled, strands loose from being tied back falling across his face while his eyes were sullen.

“Freedom from more than just the chains that bind.  Freedom from the wasteland entirely, from all these horrors that we all experience. But not just for myself, for all other ponies who seek it or deserve it too.  Ponies like you.”

    He reached one hoof across, laying it on my shoulder with a weak smile that died immediately.

“Master Red Eye helped me, Murk.  He found me when I had nothing left, no belief driving me or virtue to take heart in.  He saved my life, offering a direction to pursue a better world with. The road was hard, harder than anything I had ever been told to do before, but I knew it was worth travelling.  Now, I seek to do the same for others that he did to me. To find those who deserve a better life or who have more to offer, and help make that happen.”

    My eyes widened.

    “You mean…” I gulped. “You mean you want me to join you?  To find other ponies who aren't all bad to make things better in here?”

    “I want to help you and those like you, Murk.  To help them find their freedom from where they’ve been brought, through Fillydelphia’s hardships, and to perhaps help Equestria along the way.  That is why I brought you here, that I might try to keep you safer and on a more stable path to what it is you want in the end. Whether that be simply your freedom from all slavery, or to perhaps try and help me try to make this a better place.  I can teach you, aid you, and protect you as best I can if you stick by my side.”

    I dropped my voice, looking away to the side.

“The freedom I want? I just want to be free, master.  To one day know what it's like to be beyond the wall, no matter where that wall's ever been.”

“That is your choice.  But I promise Murk, when we come back from this, I will do more for you.  Perhaps a chance to remain by my side more, away from those that may harm you when not serving your two years.  Everypony deserves a fair chance to succeed.”

“But what about Glimmerlight, master?  What about Coral Eve and all the others?  You don't give them half the attention or...”

    I stammered on the word, afraid to say it.

    “...or care that you give me.”

    He went quiet.  I felt his hoof rest a little more firmly on my shoulder, before he lightly patted it instead.

“Some ponies have it worse than others.  I've told you so many times that I understand what you're going through on these duties for two years, Murk.  That I know what it's like to have such hardship. Perhaps the calm before the storm of battle has made me willing to reflect on life, but I have never once lied to you.”

    My mouth dropped open, drawing air sharply as some clouds in my mind cleared and put two and two together.

    “Y-you went through...”

    I saw his shoulders sink, as though remembering something unpleasant.

“Two years is a hard journey, Murk.  It is filled with danger, hard choices, and the attentions of those who don't care about you reaching the end.  Especially hard for somepony who was born into slavery.”

Attaching the eyepiece to his barding, Protégé turned from the window to face in at the team making their final preparations.  He stopped, turning his head back, but not looking directly at me. His eyes simply seemed to look at nothing in particular. I knew that look. I'd worn it many times when I'd been looking backward on my life.  But he was once a...he’d been born a...

“It's not nice, is it Murk?  Not knowing how to think for yourself or know what choices to make?  Not understanding the emotions that flow through you after meeting the one pony who finally opens your eyes to something more?”

I couldn't speak, only stand with a mouth struggling to not just hang slightly open and quiver in an attempt to say anything.  More than ever, I finally understood the link, the way that he always just 'got' how I was feeling or what I was thinking. The one element of life that connected us in a way only we could ever understand to ourselves.  

Protégé looked more the striving lonely pony than I had ever truly seen before, as I saw him offer a thin smile and turn back to the teams as Ragini returned and strode over to him.

“Word from Shackles on the griffons.  Sixty minutes, master! That's all they said they'd permit you to handle the matter internally before they make an example of everypony inside for rioting.  Apparently a couple dozen slaves don't matter to them beside of making a proper showcase of why you don't riot. But Mosin reports all teams are ready for the false assault.”

    “Thank you, Ragini.  Then I suppose we should get started. We don't have long.”

Everypony looked over at the words.  Stood in the centre of the team, under the gaze of Glimmerlight, Brimstone, Caduceus, Ragini, the four slavers accompanying us and of course, my own stunned look, he just spoke quietly.

“I shall not make a grand speech or shout words of encouragement.  But our course is set in. Ponies require our aid in there. Whether we are simply following orders or pursuing something of greater idealism, we are one team seeking to save the lives of those who have no reason to die in a forgotten pain inside those walls.”

He turned, eyeing each of them in turn.  His gaze was sad, but not just for others.  Now I knew the great truth behind why he cared so much about slaves.  I saw Brimstone match it with that rock solid glare, saw Caduceus pull his saddlebag tighter, saw Glimmerlight show her support with a little wink.

“We do not stop.  We do not leave them to this fate, in the same building with which we have been striving to create a better way than what we see every day out in the other worker dens.”

    Finally, his eyes stopped across mine.

    “Nopony deserves to just be a forgotten number.”

My eyes felt like they’d turn damp, but I controlled it, forcing it all down and with great trepidation, nodded.  In response, Protégé seemed to lift the corners of his mouth a little. Turning away, slowly, the eyepiece returned to his face.

    “Luck be with you all.  Let's go.”

    An artificial night blanketed Fillydelphia.

Storm clouds moved above us, rolling and swirling amongst the smog, creating a charcoal roof that darkened the normally red haze of Fillydelphia.  Glows of the industry were the exception rather than the rule all too suddenly, as most ponies had rushed indoors or under cover from the trepidation of the oncoming thunderstorm.

    With good reason.  In Fillydelphia, the rain burned.

The wind whipped at me, whirling down the larger streets and howling in the alleyways, it was more like a siren of its own, warning everypony to get away from what the sky was about to unleash.  On far streets, I could see the thin lights of a cordon keeping the Mall under watch for any raider break outs.

We waited around the back of the Mall, hiding in silence amongst ditches just away from the shop cell's metal stock entrance.  Protégé and Ragini were up ahead, Glimmer and Brimstone behind them, then the four slavers, and finally Caduceus and myself bringing up the rear. The early warning and the medic.  Behind us lay another couple dozen slavers, awaiting the chance to rush in and support our first push. Truth be told, part of me wanted to be upfront right now, with Protégé. My mind was whirling, confused, afraid, panicking, and absolutely curious now that I knew what he truly was.

    Really, everything of how I saw him had been turned on its head.  When we got back after all this...if we got back, I needed to have a long talk with him.

I sat amongst the dirt, crouching low and watching the door.  I was tasked to hear the assault starting, but that meant I could also hear every gunshot, every scream from inside.

That was if I could hear it above all this wind.  It actually hurt my ears, sending my big one flapping back and forth as it blew madly all over Fillydelphia and send small twisting dervishes along the dusty roads.

    With any luck the primary storm would just miss us before—

    The sky, all of it, flashed.

    “Eek!”

I found myself wrapped around the nearest pony.  Unfortunately for him, that turned out to be Caduceus.  Half choking as my front legs crushed his windpipe in shock, holding onto him with wide eyes.  The sky had lit up for half a second...lightning. I didn't like lightning.  With luck like mine, I was always afraid it would just hit me wherever I was.   

Almost lethargically, the storm brewing above let out a distant and deep rumble of thunder that made my mismatched ears throb and jitter above my head.  The sound grew and went on far longer than any normal sky had a right doing. Without pegasi treating it, the Equestrian weather patterns could be downright ferocious.

The sky rumbled again, louder, more urgent and wild.  Squeaking, I crushed tighter, barely even hearing Caduceus' gasps and frantic hoofing of me to stop it.  I hated storms.

    “...-urk!  Ca...breathe!”

I dropped off him, still shivering on the spot.

    “Oh! I'm so sorry...sorry sorry sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“It's...phew...” He lay on his side for a moment, rubbing his throat.  “It's alright, no harm, whew...done. When I said hugs were fine that wasn't quite what I meant, heh...”

He forced a smile, nodding that he was indeed fine, but I still sat back in my ditch nervously.  This waiting was making me so nervous that I felt ready to leap and just run or dig into the earth any second.  I felt so exposed out here, even with the rickety corrugated metal shelters above our positions short of the door.  Just waiting, waiting for it all to start in the blowing wind and hoping this storm didn't get worse.

    Then I heard a drip.

It was followed by another, and another, then three more in quick succession.  A little warm plop on my head was followed by even more.

Without any more warning, the clouds opened and streams of water battered down from the sky.  Blocking sight lines, covering all around us, and striking the ground so hard that it pinged back upwards by a good two feet.  The wind sent it whirling under our shelter, washing across us every few seconds. The lightning wracked the sky once more, flaring the majestic shape of the Mall into stark relief before us.  But its contents only made me nervous now. A raider stronghold.

Every exposed piece of skin began tingling, a preclude to burning pains if you were left out in the rain for too long.  But we had to hold here. We couldn't go any closer without risking alerting the raiders by sound until we absolutely had the assault's noise cover.  That meant we simply had to endure, ever the tale of the slave.

Already my brow was stinging, my mane flattened almost immediately across it.  Puddles formed, and I almost lost myself in the oddly lukewarm water with my short legs.  Caduceus was tossing his head, trying to flick it all off. He was blinking a lot, the same as me.  The water was making my eyes sear and ache. Whimpering, trying not to scream in fear of making too much noise, I did my best to stay under the little shelter we had.  Those around us were almost invisible through the deluge, some of the slavers cursing as exposed bodies felt their skin crawl with pain.

“Well, thanks for that, Celestia, you great big bitch,” muttered one of the slavers, the unicorn mare.  She caught my shocked look, before just rolling her eyes and turning away.

Protégé just seemed to stand alone, watching the crater under the rain that was striking the ground so hard it bounced as high as my head, sometimes spitting up into my eyes.

Really, I knew this was an opportunity, but my courage to ask had failed me.  Now I didn't even know if I was looking at a slave or a master anymore. He was both and yet neither, stuck between two worlds and choosing the one that set him apart from me.  Even just watching him standing and staring into the distant crater, I felt nervous to even think about his life. But it explained so much about him.

Under the storm's blackness, the crater was an eerie sight.  I'd been in it before. It had just seemed like a blasted ruin.  But in such darkness, I could see an ominous light glow coming from the core, drifting in the dust that swayed on the wind between the irregular torrents of rainfall.  There was no pony but the raid teams around, giving rise to an odd sense of isolation within the normally bustling city.

Tossing my head and whimpering at the growing pain from the rain as it blew into my face, I tried to shelter down in the ditch as best I could, but the ground was becoming muddy, dripping water down the sides to cluster below my hooves.  Everypony was fidgeting, all except Brimstone in his fairly enclosed armour, and Protégé, who simply stood with his eyepiece off and staring deeply into it.

Already, my stomach was twisting over and over at the terror of what would happen once we went beyond that door.  Fear kept building. We were uncomfortable, trapped in the humid and heavy air, in pain from the poisoned water, and just awaiting the signal to begin a brutal assault.  Even my rampant curiosity and confused glances toward Protégé were not helping me to fight the urge to run and hide.

    But I could hardly think on that now.  My eyes kept returning to him standing just short of the rain.

    But I really didn't know if I were staring at a fellow slave just like me or whether I simply saw my master.

    When we got back, I needed a long talk with him.  I had to—

    In the distance, I heard a sound. A hollow ‘Thoom!’

    My ears perked before my face even reacted, was that thunder?  But immediately after, there was a second, and a third.

    My heart began to slow, like I wanted to ignore it, deny it.

    It had been an explosion, dull and far off through many walls, muffled by the rain.  But I had heard it.

I immediately reached over and clattered my hoof on a slab of metal, alerting Protégé without having to raise our voices.  He turned, watching me intently.

    “Murk?”

    A roar of gunfire began to pick up.  Those closer to the door were even beginning to look up now. I saw Ragini nod.

    “The assault.”

    Protégé wasted no time in drawing his revolver and clipping the eyepiece back on.

“This is it, team!  Brimstone, get the door!  Everypony else, weapons at the ready and kill all noise.  We infiltrate as far as we can before we have to open fire!”

Brimstone rushed up to the door, his great hooves wrapping around the bars to tug it open; the rain washing off his armour while he did so.  He'd ditched the helmet. I guessed out of fear of what it brought out in him. Everypony else readied up, drawing weapons or tightening armour as we galloped up through the sodden ground.  My skin stung under the rain, my mane flopped and my fleece soaked it up within seconds of moving into the thick deluge.

    I flicked my leg, making the mouthpiece flip out for Rarity's Grace.  I had its three shots and the two grenades I'd stolen from The Master's locker. It'd have to do in my protection.  But a strange wave of calm overcame me. The waiting was over.

With a creak and groan, Brimstone threw the door open, heavy metal hinges sliding uneasily on rusted joints.  Even above the thunderstorm and rain, the firefight was now audible at a ferocious level inside, punctuated by all sorts of explosions.

Protégé was first up, disappearing inside, followed by Ragini.  Everypony else followed. Glimmer, with a last firm nod to me. Brimstone, with that grim expression. After them, the slavers, who warily trooped in.

    Caduceus stopped, offering a hoof back as the other 'back end' pony.

“Just keep moving; we stall and I'll probably be too scared to move too.  We'll just stick together Murky, the two of us. Okay?”

    Standing in the harsh wind, I took a few breaths before nodding, reaching out to take his hoof, and disappearing inside.

    Here we go.

    We were home.

The back of our shop cell was decimated.  The sofa torn up and the scrap pile tossed and scattered from raiders searching for anything.  Shelves were toppled, and the stench of waste and blood drifted throughout.

Brimstone hauled the door closed as lightly as he could behind us, leaving one stone in the hinge to let the relief force behind us in when their time came.  But he hadn't needed to be that quiet, for the assault was drowning everything out. Explosions every few seconds and the staccato report of gunfire pounded throughout the building.  I could hear raiders galloping by the front of the cell, rushing to the guard rooms and returning fire with long bursts.

Protégé was up front, ready and edging closer to the door.  Looking back, he motioned me over as the remainder of the raid team settled into the corners, staying silent.  I crept over, hustling up beside him and feeling the unicorn lean close to my ear.

    “We need to know what's out there. You have it?”

I did indeed.  My new toy. A few minutes waiting had been spent making it.  Pulling the little mirror I'd found from the containers out, it was now attached to a thin piece of metal and bound on with fabric.  My master took it, his magic angling it just out to peer around the corner and into the main shop.

Both of us stared at it, oh-so-patiently angling it for the best viewpoint that would show us the front of the store and whether there were any guards.  Occasional blurs of motion on the dirty mirror gave rise to them pushing past the front in twos or threes. We waited. Still, stay still...

I listened carefully.  After a while, with no more movement on the mirror and no sounds nearby, I nodded.  The responsibility of the decision weighed heavy, but with recent knowledge, I found myself eager to do as Protégé wished of me.  Somehow, he felt closer, like I had to help him all the more.

Ragini went first, proving herself remarkably stealthy as she slid around the corner and behind the counter of the shop.  She had followed me all night once without me ever spotting her, I supposed. Griffons were light on their feet.

Protégé went after her, followed by Glimmerlight.  Two of the slavers were waved into the store, where I saw them roll behind a low shelving unit in the middle.  Each stayed in cover, out of the way of the main open entrance. I just hung back in the stock room with Caduceus and Brimstone; the big raider would move with us, waiting for anything to kick off for his might to be unleashed.

As if we needed any more. The assault was ear shattering.  Automatic gunfire and echoes reverberating everywhere, accompanied by frantic shouting about reloading or to cover each other crossed over whoops of frenzied delight.  It may have all been out of the plaza and past the guard room, but to me, it was as though I was right in the middle of it.

This was the hard bit.  We knew Barb was on the upper levels, but the only staircase was out of the shop front and then fifty metres to the right across ground that was visible from above.  Most of the raiders would be out front, away in the corridors, but any that were above would likely spot us. The entire point was just to get as far as we could before that happened.

“Everypony ready?” Protégé's voice hissed out, responded by a series of light taps.  I didn't tap. I wasn't ready, but I knew I had no say in this.

It was just going to be a straight run.  One brutal rush to get upstairs and kill Barb before bunkering down around any slaves we could find.

    “Go!”

Protégé and Ragini swept out of the store front.  Glimmerlight went right after them, followed by the slaver fireteam.  Brimstone shoved Caduceus and myself out before him and we galloped across the shop into the plaza.

    Into hell.

Under the storm, the plaza was leaking terribly. Water dripped from the skylight above or down from rusty pipes on the walls.  Already the surging wind could be heard under the rumble of thunder. Lightning flared, lighting the entire grisly sight of a raider encampment.  Fires had their smoke mixed with the rain, offering sight upon the mutilated bodies that were hung from balconies or horribly tortured unto death while lashed to wooden planks.  Skins or bloodstained clothes were scattered everywhere. And the stench...

My stomach twisted all the more with revulsion, requiring Caduceus to grab my hoof and pull me on.  We galloped right into it, hopping over the foul remnants as we stuck to the wall of shops and every shadow we could.  Above us I could hear the raiders. If I turned my head, I could see one or two on the opposite side of the plaza, up above on the balcony.  They weren't looking down, instead distracted by the sounds coming from the guardroom.

    “Cover!”

Protégé's voice sounded just loud enough for me to relay the message by tugging the others.  We dropped into the next shop alone, scrambling behind old jewellery stands to hide. Poking my head out just enough, I saw three more raiders run across the plaza from the stairs.  We'd dodged all sight by sheer luck.

The next stretch of the plaza would cover us much better.  The balconies didn't exist this far back, as the entire level above stretched across the entire plaza, filling the whole gap above us.  But that didn't mean raiders couldn't be anywhere.

Already, I could hear them trotting around above us through the lower roof.  We would have to fight at the top of the stairs one way or another. Listening intently, I heard the door we came in open again, the second team of more slavers creeping in to await their backup assault.  The stage was set.

“Move!” Protégé was curt and simple in his commands, avoiding too much noise.  Ragini led this time, moving out around the shop to—

    She walked right into a raider.  The raider, a mare, reacted with shock at the griffon, before opening her mouth to cry out.  Why hadn't I heard her? Had she just been lying in the shadows out there sleeping!?

Ragini wasted no time.  Before a single sound could be made, her talon wrapped around the mare's mouth, using her superior size and strength to quickly wrench the raider's neck hard enough that I heard a sickening pop.  Shaking under both the tension and fear, I had to calm my stomach by looking away when I spotted the mare still living for a few seconds before the injury caught up with her brain.

    I'd always thought that killed instantly.

Proving me tragically wrong, the mare's eyes flickered, panicking, and finally going dead.  Wrenching the neck once more to make sure, Protégé's griffon bodyguard pulled the mare inside and dumped her in the corner.  The griffon saw my horrified face, and just winked at me.

“Too much for you, flightless?” Her hushed whisper drifted into my ears.  “Bet you just wish you had that pig sty back, right?”

    I just looked away, leaving her to flick her wings with a grin and move back to the store front.  Was she enjoying this?

We slipped out as one team, keeping to the wall.  A low sound of moaning and pain entered my ears. Multiple voices alongside plenty of shuffling nearby.  Slaves? I sped up, aiming to move over to Protégé and alert him that we were near the prisoners. This was going well, if we could just—

    Protégé was blown clean off his hooves before I even heard the thumping sound of a gunshot reach us.

    “SNIPER!”

    “Where is he!?”

The slavers spun, but Ragini was well ahead of them, taking to the air and raising her energy rifle.  Across the plaza, in another shop cell, a second muzzle flare kicked up that took a chunk out of the concrete wall above Protégé's head.  With a flare and snap of discharged magic, Ragini melted the sniper's head clean off with a green lance of light.

That was it.  There was one brief moment of horrendous silence.  I hoped that it might have been lost in the noise of the assault.  But then one shout went out, calling 'everypony up', then another to get guns, then a half dozen hooves.

    We were busted.

    Caduceus ran forward to Protégé, as did I.  The slave master was already trying to pull himself up, favouring his left side.

    “Hold still!  Hold still! Let me get a look at—”

    “I'm just winded, the armour took it. We need to— ergh!  We need to move! Go!”

Even so, Caduceus and I still helped him up.  Around us, the raiders were realising they had been breached.  Hooves on stairs sounded alongside the screams of slaves as they were presumably threatened to stay still.  Carrying a limping Protégé, we let Ragini and the slave armed with a battle saddle lead. Simply rushing now, we reached the stairway.

It was not unguarded.  Large and wide, the stairwell to the upper floors was thick enough to take eight ponies at a time, and not your scrawny post-bombs ponies either.  But barricades were set up on it, one at the halfway point up where the stairway reversed and went back on itself to the upper level, and one at the bottom.  A dozen raiders were spread out, immediately rushing down to meet us coming the other way. A large set of more barricades were right in front of us, clearly a fall back point for the raiders should they have lost the guard room.

    Trapped between us and them were a great mass of slaves, all cowering at the sides or below the stairs.

Throwing ourselves behind the closer barricades, the gunfire began.  I found myself trapped in a small bit of cover behind an overturned refrigerator, almost pressed into Caduceus' chest to keep all our hooves behind it.

    “Kill em all!  KILL!”

Shots made the fridge jar and shift on the spot.  Shotgun slugs thudded deeply into it, so hard that the metal surface smacked me in the face.  Protégé lifted his revolver above it with magic and let off three rounds blindly, relieving some of the pressure.  But he was breathing hard, a hoof on his side. Yet still, he managed to raise his voice.

    “Don't get bogged down!  Fire and move! Fire and move!  We have to keep going!”

Around us, the team had clustered into what cover they could.  Glimmerlight was beside the female unicorn slaver, firing a few shots with her pistol around the side of the stripped metal plates they had to stay alive behind.  Ragini was actually above us, using a thick metal sign hanging from the roof as a hiding spot to fire off snapshots that were above the raiders' own cover. Boy, flying was handy in a fight!

But the raiders were digging in hard.  Made even worse by the slaves who were struggling to stay to the side, our line of fire was restricted.  The barricade on the first stairwell platform was just pumping out too many shots from five or so raiders behind it.

We were pinned.  Protégé hastily reloaded his revolver to open fire again, but we couldn't aim properly to get ahead.  Nearby, I heard a cry of pain that only went on and on with horror. An armour piercing round had punched right through the barricade and sheared the leg off one of the earth pony slavers with us.  Flailing and panicking, he was cut down out of cover. I heard Caduceus hiss in anger, unable to move over and aid the pony. The nurse was rattling off what shots he dared with that small submachine gun of his, but he was clearly not very accurate with it.

“Anypony got any bright ideas?” Protégé shouted out, quickly snapping a shot at a raider trying to push forward and get around us.  The pony went down, nursing their shoulder, but pulled themselves into cover.

I wish I had, but I was useless here, just a bystander in a firefight.  I just winced every time a shot spanked off our cover, whimpering with terror that an armour piercing shot might rip through it any moment...

“I got something, give me some cover!” Glimmerlight cried out, holding the long rifle tipped with the spark battery.

The command went out. Everypony leaned up and unleashed what firepower they had.  All except me. I only had a few bullets in Rarity's Grace for self defence, but nothing for mass firing.  But between Ragini, Caduceus, Protégé, three slavers, and even Brimstone with the fallen slaver's weapon, I actually screamed at the pain in my ears. So much gunfire going off so close to my head was like a crowbar being jammed in my ear.  The torrent gave Glimmerlight an opportunity.

The Ranger Initiate leaned up, settling the rifle on the barricade with her hooves to get her eye right down and aim properly. What on Equestria was it going to—

    She fired.  With a loud crack and ping, the spark battery on the tip catapulted off, flying high and arcing down toward the barricade up ahead.  Smashing into barrier itself, the spark battery flared, ignited, and exploded with a blue haze and arcing magical energies.  Raiders screamed, diving away with their bodies burning and disintegrating. One in the middle I saw turned simply to ash under the full force of the explosion.  She'd made an energy grenade to be fired from that rifle.

I wasn't sure whether to be horrified at the effect or proud of my 'sis for breaking the deadlock.  The slavers got their weapons back up, starting to make progress, now that the biggest source of incoming fire was down.

    “Go!  Get on their flanks!  On their flanks, Ragini, move!”

Protégé shouted the order, falling back as the fridge lurched under a heavy rifle round to knock his likely heavily bruised side again.  Caduceus caught him as he fell back, while I looked up. On their flanks? Why that? We weren't even anywhere close enough to-

    Oh, right, that's what he meant.  I really was useless at this fighting business.

Ragini swept down, her energy rifle flashing to the left.  Slaves dived away from cover, trying to escape a raider who was using them as a hostage.  Ragini's fire cut him down before the execution shots went in. On the other side, I saw Brimstone rush up, pulverising one piece of cover under the sheer weight of him and his armour to allow the slavers following him to move in.  Protégé turned to me and Caduceus.

“You two, move up and follow Brimstone. They're going to start swinging more fire back here now that they've seen me leading them.  I'll support Ragini's side while Muzzle Flare and Granite Hoof keep up fire from the centre! Go!”

    But I didn't—

    “GO!”

My master commanded, making me turn and gallop across the battle line towards Brimstone's cleared area.  The big raider was now hiding behind a pillar until he could get a chance to push forward again. What if—

“Argh! Argh! Argh!”

    Even while running, I screamed at the rushes of air. Shots were whizzing around me, pinging off the ground.  They were firing at me!  Where do I go?  Where do I stop?  What cover was good!?

Yelling, almost dancing on my hooves, a sudden weight slammed into me and pulled me to the floor.  Kicking and scrambling toward a wide pillar, I found Caduceus was the one pulling me in, wrapping his hooves about me to tug me to safety.  Behind me, I saw the fridge we'd been behind torn apart. If we'd stayed there...

Protégé hadn't gotten far.  The ground was chewed up near where he must have run, but now he was beside Glimmerlight. Her hooves were struggling to attach another spark battery to her rifle.  She was so intent, falling into a drill. I began to see the real Ranger Initiate in her, more than just the fun loving mare I knew. I often forgot she had been born into a militaristic upbringing.

    “Shit!”

    Caduceus swore.  Turning my head, I almost joined him as I saw one raider coming down the opposite staircase on the other side of the plaza.  He had a clean shot!

Caduceus sprayed his submachine gun.  He was inaccurate, but dumping the entire magazine brought down the raider in a floundering, surprisingly anticlimactic heap.  Breathing hard, the nurse just stared at the corpse.

    “...do-do no harm...do no harm! He was going to harm more...”

    Breathing through clenched teeth, Caduceus hugged me for support, realising what he'd done.

This battle was escalating.  Three more raiders ran down the stairwell from above.  Protégé downed two, Ragini the last one, but another two followed, galloping to join their clan comrades.  What if any more came behind us? We were too exposed, in real danger.  I had two grenades. Maybe I could...

No!  Any glance out showed me the slaves trapped on the edges and near the slavers.  I couldn't throw explosives with them there, but I had to do something!

Reaching down, I picked up a rock in my mouth.  Pushing Caduceus' hooves away, I leapt out and began sneaking along the edge of cover nearer Brimstone.  Ducking down, scooting as best I could and trying to ignore the foul taste of the rock, I edged as close as I could.

“GRENADE!” I screamed, throwing the rock at them, and diving back behind the barricade.  

Up ahead, the shout was echoed, before half a dozen raiders leapt out of cover, along with screaming slaves rushing away from the rock.  One of the slavers, Muzzle Flare, I thought, raised her carbine in a telekinetic field and took three out with well placed snapshots. She was good.  Ragini, swapping out for her lighter rifle, picked another one off.

Somehow, without even really meaning to, I had changed the momentum.  There were only four raiders left now, after I spied the one Protégé had winged earlier now lying still.  He'd bled out.

But the remaining ones were not giving out.

    “Stop 'em getting higher!  Come get some ya fuckers!”

I squealed as combined fire chewed at the wooden barricade I was hiding behind.  Bullets flew through, spraying me with woodchips. I heard Caduceus scream for me to get back to the pillar, but I'd locked up with fear.  If I left, they'd just shoot me in the open!

I heard a grinding, shrieking of metal on rock.  Glancing up, I saw Protégé and Glimmerlight pushing an old metal rubbish bin, heavy and square, toward the last raider position.  The pair were drawing fire, giving me time to leap back toward Caduceus. Protégé's revolver shot over the top, such close range pushing the raiders back to further away cover, but giving the others on the flanks a chance to move.

    Brimstone and Ragini descended.  The former charged, bellowing a warcry while hurling a stone the size of a boulder at one.  His target’s head cracked back, before Brimstone, their previous leader, crashed into a second, pulverizing the raiders head off the railing of the staircase with repeated crushing blows.  Ragini swept down in a strafing run, blasting one in the rump, before descending in a dive with her rear legs outstretched. Between Brimstone and the griffon, they tore the remainder apart in close combat.

There was still a small war going on in the guardroom.  Still another whole level to go, but somehow I felt a certain degree of pause and relief.  Protégé set the slavers to guard the stairwell until we could properly regroup, before Ragini flew out to watch for anypony trying to come up behind us on another stairwell from the opposite side.

We gathered in the middle, Caduceus immediately running into the slaves.  Protégé lay down against a barricade, breathing hard and clutching his side.  I could see Glimmerlight busy searching for Coral Eve, while Brimstone I did not want to approach just post-battle.  As such, I found myself trotting over to my master.

    “Are...are you alright?”

“Well, if being shot and being alive counts, I s-suppose.  Ergh...but the slaves here are safe. Too late for many though, damn raiders.”

He cast his eyes around, mine following them.  The atrocity was clear. Many of who I thought were simply tired slaves lying at the side simply were not.  We'd secured the majority, but the raiders had done so much damage to them. I saw ponies weeping over lost ones, bloodstained rugs covering bodies, and those who simply lay in corners with wide eyes, nervous of anypony coming close.  Caduceus was fighting to help one pony whose mouth had been cut at either side into some sort of grim smile. But she was consistently moving away from him, screaming and pushing herself closer to other mares. I didn’t want to imagine.

We couldn't pause long. They would be fortifying the area above.  At the very least, we controlled the stairwell, so they couldn't send anypony to summon their guard room defence backwards, but it was only a matter of time before we were overwhelmed.  We had to push on and call the relief force once we had cleared the balcony above.

    “Coral!  Oh Celestia! Caduceus, over here!”

I spotted the nurse galloping before I even saw Glimmer trying to help the light grey unicorn up.  She was a mess. Battered, bruised, and bleeding. Her coat, just off-white to a tinge of grey, was pockmarked with all a matter of beatings; while that long blue, white, and black mane had fallen out of its braiding to hang loose.  But even with her exhausted strength, she was still trying to push Glimmer away.

    “Get off me!”

    “Coral, please, let me help you here!”

Caduceus took over for her, gently moving Glimmerlight to the side himself.  Clearly, he figured that Coral would respond better to somepony different. Drawing some bandages and a healing salve, Caduceus set to work.  Coral's eyes, however, seemed to focus on me.

    “Y-you...Murk, you came in to h-help?”

    Gulping, I nodded.  “Yes, so did Caduceus and Glimmer.  She wanted to help you.”

    “Great. Being helped back into the same slavery her actions put me within in the first place.  That and—”

    She stopped, her eyes focussing behind me.  Coral shivered, a look of sudden fear and blinding hatred all at once in her eyes.  Turning slowly, I simply found Brimstone Blitz nearby behind me.  His own beady eyes matched Coral's now fierce glare.

    “You!  Glimmer, don't tell me you're working with this monster!  Don't you remember what he did to us?!”

    “He's changing, Coral!  He's trying to be better and make up for things, just like I am to—”

“Shut up!  SHUT UP! You say you're trying to seek my forgiveness, then you work with the beast that destroyed our village?  That killed our families and friends?  The one that brought us here!?”

My mind reeled.  Sat amongst them, I found myself unknowing of even who to look at.  Coral was showing nothing but sheer fury right now. Glimmerlight was pleading. Brimstone was just an impassive rock that simply stared back before finally looking away.  He didn't say a word.

Brimstone had been the one to do that to them?  To bring them in here? Sweet Celestia, why hadn't they told me!?  I just paced on the spot, looking from pony to pony.

Glimmerlight stomped a hoof.  “Brimstone's saved my life over and over again, Coral!  He's saved Murky too! He's changed, Coral, becoming a better—

    “Glimmer, that raider destroyed our lives! Your life!  Even aside from what you did, he is a blight on this world!  Nothing better than Barb and his lot, they're the same clan!”

    “Brimstone's trying to help us stop Barb!  Trying to redeem himself—”

    “Stop right there!”

    Coral pulled herself up, pointing a hoof accusingly at Glimmer.

    “There is no redeeming yourself for an entire life of being what he is!  How many ponies has he killed, Glimmer? How many children left homeless and orphaned because of what he did to their parents?  Ponyville would still be around. We'd still have a home! But no, you betrayed us!  He destroyed us! It'd be a mercy for him to just be killed!”

Throughout the exchange, Brimstone merely stood solemnly, eyes closed.  The big earth pony seemed to show little emotion normally, but after knowing him for a while I could see the lack of an expression.  The one that stated something had penetrated that thick hide of his.

I was still trying to get around it all, decipher it all in my head.  I'd thought Glimmer and Brimstone had only first met in here. It cast a whole new immediate reality on just the sort of things Brimstone had been responsible for in his life.

“There's no fixing it, huh?” Glimmerlight spoke curtly, keeping her eyes everywhere but on Coral.  “Well, forgive me for trying. But I'm going to go do that now.”

    “What are you—”

“Barb's up there.  He's done all this now.  We're going to stop him. You say they're all the same.  Well here's where we prove Brim isn't. Because him and I are going up there.  We're going to help Protégé in killing that bastard once and for all. We'll show you things aren't the same.  Then afterwards...”

    Coral scoffed.    “Then what?”

    “I'm going to remember, Coral.”

    That seemed to catch the bitter maare by surprise, she actually gave ground.

    “Hm? You what?”

    Glimmer's eyes narrowed.  “I'm going to remember.  If that's what it takes to understand, to know what I did.  I'm going to work on it, go through my orbs, remember what it was I did.  I can't promise I'll be quick...or easy. But I want to know what it was I did to you.  Just so I can understand. You were my best friend, Coral...”

The pale grey unicorn seemed to bite back another bitter remark, but shifted on the spot, testing her bandaged hoof on the ground before returning the look.

    “I just hope that someday I can be half the pony Brimstone is.  He doesn’t hide from his past like I do! He told me when we met and you know what?  I still forgave him! Perhaps it was easier because I didn't remember.  That it was nothing other than an unseen fact of history. So maybe you're right that my will to forgive anypony and anything is a lie!  Maybe I'm not that beautiful pony who can bury any hatchet and just smile! But I can't change that now! All I can do is keep trying to make the best of what I have!  Right now? That's by showing that I'm going to take steps.”

Coral seemed a little stunned, as though she had never expected Glimmer to show that amount of sudden maturity or serious thought.

    “Steps?”

    Glimmer's horn lit, pulling the long rifle toward her where she wracked the bolt.

    “By going up there, and bringing down one of the ponies who destroyed our village.  Brim's going up too.  Maybe once you see him try to end this, show he's on the other side now, you'll know I...we...mean it.”

There was an uneasy silence after that.  I could see Protégé standing nearby, clearly only a few seconds off giving the order to keep pushing.  We'd been stopped for a couple minutes to reload and get our breath back, what felt like an eternity when we were still exposed in this plaza.  Finally, Coral looked away, snorting.

“You've got a long way to go, Glimmer.  If you ever hope to even want to make me see you as ever really looking to properly apologise. When you finally remember, just be ready to accept who you really are.  But do not ask me to see that raider as anything other than that.  He's done too much to me already. I'd still have my son with me if it weren't for you two, not have him locked away with Red Eye.”

With that, she turned, limping away to the clusters of slaves again, stopping only briefly to turn her head and speak quietly.

“If you're looking for Barb, he's upstairs in the old restaurant.  He's been lording it up, having mock audiences and suchlike, as though it's his fortress now.”

Then she was out of sight, behind the staircase.  Silently, under Protégé's nod of approval, we began cantering up the stairs.  Above us, I could hear the raiders shout that we were coming. The real battle was about to begin.

But as I passed the lip of the stairwell, dodging the piles of ash from Glimmer's energy grenade, I could only hear the faint sniffs of a sound from below it that I knew all too well from a thousand times of doing it myself.

    The sound of somepony crying.

Battle had been joined before I even caught up to the top of the staircase.  The others had pushed ahead, leaving myself and Caduceus to follow up in our own time.  The young nurse was still in a state of half shock at his self defence earlier. I wished I could understand.  I'd never killed anypony.

    I began to feel I might have to the moment I saw what we approached.

The sound was catastrophic. Energy flares, bullet echoes, and pings surrounded by the chip and shatter of concrete and whipping fabric.  Screams, shouts, taunts, and orders rung out alongside frantic scrambling and sliding.

    When I finally saw it, I almost stopped just to stare.

The raid team had run forward, pushing off the stairs with sheer speed to get out of the choke point, but they had met a wall of resistance.  Up ahead, behind more scrappy barricades, raiders were ducking and diving, throwing all sorts of fire out at Protégé and his team. Smoke and mist flew into the air as either side's cover was chewed up or blown apart.  Already I saw Protégé himself running out under fire to dive and roll on his side, crying out in pain from the impact just to take better cover. Three raiders lay dead in between where they had clearly charged.

    Into this madness, I ran.

Leaping up and over a fallen concrete block riddled with holes, I passed by Ragini sniping from the back, the retort of her rifle dizzying me as we pushed onward.  Three seconds of tense galloping later, I dropped beside Glimmer into heavier cover. Already, the thunderstorm was getting worse. Lightning lit the firefight, shattering the skies and the atmosphere with every thick white flare of illumination.  Higher up to the skylight, the wind was even blowing down and in, carrying the burning rain inside to leak and fall upon the floor.

Between the shots, whipping dust, rain and storm, the entire thing was complete sensory overload, a madness of violence and chaos that swept across the entire second plaza level.

    “Push in!  Push in! We cannot stop!” Protégé's voice carried out, followed by the pounding as I saw Brimstone charge right past us heedlessly, directly into the line of fire.

Using the chance, Glimmerlight leaned out, fired the rifle, and then charged after him.  So much smoke was being kicked up from missed shots that we could almost move without being seen across the second level of the plaza.  There was a rending crash up ahead, from Brimstone bucking a metal plate so hard it collided with the raiders behind it, before we all ducked behind it again.  Opposite us, Protégé and the three slavers poured a huge amount of firepower ahead of them to force the raiders back.

    “Murky, stay down!  Stay down!” Glimmer shoved me to the floor rather roughly, a torrent of fire washing over our cover enough to fling shrapnel of concrete and metal all over us.  Cowering upon the floor, I witnessed my friend firing and hiding, firing and hiding, over and over again. Each time racking the bolt with enough force I was afraid it'd break.  To my surprise, a few more ponies rushed up behind us. More of the slaves with captured weapons charged up the stairwell, unloading everything they could into the raiders with vengeance in their eyes.

Anything above two feet from the ground became a killing ground.  One of the slaves was beheaded by the heavy round before they could even scatter, but their distraction allowed the slavers to run up, whooping as they decapitated a raider in appropriate response.

Glimmerlight forced me down as Brimstone took the bulk of the barricade's metal plate and actually lifted it, similar to how he had done in the Stable.  Acting as moving cover, he pushed onward with Glimmer, taking pot shots behind him. Keeping low, I ran to the side, screaming as I heard an energy blast sizzle close enough to char my tail until I dropped alongside Protégé.

“Clear the balconies for the relief force to push in and support us. They can flank beneath us on the other stairwell.  Then it's a straight shot with a cornered Barb.” He quickly turned to me. “You holding up?”

I wasn't.  It was an effort to barely stop myself from fleeing the brutal gunfight.  But only the fear of being shot down really kept me in one spot. Only from my skin tingling did I realise that a leak in the skylight was dropping down.  Glancing up, through the whizzing rounds and blasts, I could see the oddly skeletal shape of a platform below the skylight. Rain dripped around it, down upon me.  Already, most of us were soaking again.

    Seeing me clearly speechless, Protégé pushed me down with a hoof.

    “Stay here!  Just shout if you hear them flanking up behind us!”

    Leaning out, he took a shot with his revolver before rushing forward, disappearing into the madness.  Raiders were everywhere.  Shots came from above, on the third level of the plaza, from either side in shop cells or directly ahead behind barricades.  A scream went out, before I saw Muzzle Flare fall to the side, her neck punctured. Caduceus rushed to her, pressing hard on the wound while he dug out a potion.

But if I dared peer out, crying and whimpering as my ears threatened to deaden under the cacophony of chaos, I saw what Protégé meant.  The balconies that overlooked where we'd come in were swarming. No relief force could come in that way under that watch! Around me, ponies, slaver and slave, pushed into it.  Another of the six remaining slave volunteers went down, dropping just in front of my cover. Brimstone's advance was all that was keeping us going, along with Ragini diving from area to area, her wings carrying the journey while she sniped at those on the third level.  I saw one fall from his balcony, wailing on his way down to impact in a growing puddle upon the floor. The thunder coincided with his impact.

    Then the order came. We had no other choice.

    “Everypony, charge!  We need to clear the balcony!  CHARGE! MOVE!”

I didn't know if that meant me or not, but his voice was commanding and definite.  I saw raiders beginning to flank around us from the opposite stairwell. I had to move!  Now!

As one, we broke cover, galloping into the maelstrom of incoming fire out of sheer need. One suicidal rush to clear the balcony and let the relief force in!  Brimstone hurled the barricade, smashing asunder two raiders blocking the way with a captured tripod machine gun. Glimmerlight fired another energy grenade to the high level, ripping away a fence and blasting the two raider snipers away.  I found myself behind Protégé and Caduceus. The latter was dragging the injured Muzzle with him, spraying fire from his mouth-held weapon. My master fired precise shots to all sides, but was limping and slowing down.

Rushing up, I forced myself alongside him, helping to keep him going.  Terror gripped me so hard that I tunnel visioned ahead. Blood sprayed across me; Muzzle Flare inadvertently being the only thing keeping Caduceus from losing his head as her shoulder evaporated.  Dropping the corpse, he joined our charge.

Everything became a blur, but before I knew it, we were on the balcony.  Brimstone threw a raider off the edge, Ragini was fighting a raider with a knife, rolling across the floor with him.  She had taken a bullet to a hind leg. Glimmerlight fell. My cry of shock stopped only as I saw she wasn't shot, but simply rolling under the balcony lip to stay in cover.

We were under fire from all heights and locations.  Too much to take on. Most of us were wounded, the slaves were simply firing scared, but we had done it. We had cleared the balcony.  Protégé leaned over, crying out so hard his voice broke.

    “Relief team!  Move in! MOVE IN!”

The slaver with the carbine battle saddle blasted a raider running up with a sledgehammer, making the buck catapult head over hooves.  Another followed, and another. Brimstone intercepted them, engaging in combat with multiple attackers, his armour sparking from the rounds striking it.  Their efforts were barely holding off the tide, a half dozen small combats as part of one greater whole to keep this one point clear. Below us, I saw movement at the shop cell.  Reinforcements!  

They spread out, getting ready to charge in toward the stairwells now the balcony wouldn't simply massacre them.  About time too. We could barely hold this position any longer.

    But then I had to wonder, why weren't they moving?

“Relief team!  Stairwells! Now!” Protégé screamed, waving his revolver toward the ends we had moved up from.  A bullet chipped off the balcony ledge, sending shrapnel to dig into both of us. I cried out, falling backward toward the fence around an already wrecked hole, clutching the side of my neck.  My hoof came away bloody, and shaking horribly. Looking down, I saw the reinforcements just standing there, why were they—

    Then I saw him.

Moving sideways through them, casually touring it and watching the brutal scene engaging the raid team above, The Master casually stepped to the leader and laid a hoof on his shoulder, before shaking his head.

    Protégé gaped in astonishment.
   
    “Shackles!  Move in! Move in now!”

The Master merely turned, seeing the bleeding, wounded, and desperate Protégé trying to order the rest in...and shook his head.  With that hideous grin, he simply stepped backwards, followed by the entire team that had been meant to support and reinforce us.

    “SHACKLES!” Protégé's voice barely seemed to carry now, as the reality sunk home.

We'd been abandoned...betrayed, left to die.  Protégé had tried to keep him out of it, but he had come back. The slavers obeyed him.

“Where is the damned second team!?  We can't hold this!” 

Glimmerlight ducked and swore. She was struggling to reload her rifle while dodging fire from a dozen sources.  Ahead of us, emitting a blood curdling warcry, a wave of raiders, two dozen strong, erupted forth from the shop cells where they'd been hiding in the shadows, and charged us.

I flipped the mouthpiece of my battle saddle out, gripping it in my mouth.  Protégé was already firing, his revolver slapping six shots toward the incoming mass.  I saw Ragini blasted out of the air to crash onto the hard floor. Within seconds, she was firing with one arm on the ground with a steely look in her eyes.  

Turning toward the raiders, driven by pure fear and desperation, I snapped the three shots I had off.  One raider went down, the small bullet not even making him cry out before he struggled back up, nursing the dented armour plate he had stolen.

Brimstone Blitz hit them like a cannonball, crashing through them with a charge of his own. Even as he slowed under the impact, they swarmed him.  Although gutted and crushed under his assault, they just kept piling on.

They had been hiding in here this whole time.  They'd only left a few to defend the 'fake assault.' Like they'd known all along.

The slaves were torn apart, caught in the open behind us, and the snipers picked them off one by one.  Screaming, I found myself chased by a raider wielding a knife. My shoulder felt cold and numb, images flickering into my mind as I saw his studded and pierced face bounding through the melee.  Three shots landed beside me, making me fall on my back. The raider never got close, Glimmerlight, out of all ammo, swung her rifle into his muzzle. She swung her weapon to and fro, connecting with a couple heads, before being dragged down, screaming as a half dozen raiders piled onto her with clubs.  My cry at that sight was never even heard.

Ragini tried to rise once again, but a gunshot snapped right into her chest, putting her on her back again, firing her rifle until the last shot with one hand at the oncoming raiders.  Had her armour stopped the round? Oh Goddesses, was she…?

One by one, we were going down, overwhelmed and outflanked on all sides.  I felt myself being picked up, thrown, and leapt upon. Yelling, begging, I lashed out and scrambled, but a hoof only slapped into my head, knocking me to the ground with a sharp pain and dizzied vision.  A rifle went off near my head, almost deafening me. The battle saddle slaver was leapt upon, his throat torn apart until Brimstone's ongoing brawl swept by him, taking the attacker off his back. He still fell, bleeding copiously.

    Then, the unthinkable.

    Throwing the last pony from his back, Brimstone rounded off...only for a shot to smash right into the front of his armour and penetrate.  The big raider staggered, before a mass of other shots rattled against his armour. Heedless of friendly fire, they were shooting even while others rammed and attacked him.  My throat was raw from screaming as I saw him fall.

Protégé, the last of us remaining on his hooves, spun, his revolver snapping off precise shots aimed via E.F.S.  Raiders fell on every side, the last two shots even going high, bringing down two of the snipers. A series of clicks announced he was empty, leading to his backup pistol being drawn and blasting at those trying to close on him.  That too ran dry. His face was a mask of fear, anger, hate, guilt, and yet he moved with absolute burning determination.  

Screaming to the sky above through the skylight, whipping rain and lightning in the air around him, his magic lifted a half dozen fallen weapons, unloading in all directions, even as I saw him stagger from rounds striking off his armour.  Raiders fell one after another, being knocked away or forced back. All weapons empty, he even smashed raiders in the face with his empty revolver, but for every one he struck, another two leapt forward, dragging, pulling, and finally striking.  Finally, A club swung, and my master dropped.  

Hoisting his, I hoped, unconscious body up, they cheered, yelling and laughing at their prize.

    I had two grenades. I could...I could...

    A brass hoof impacted on my head, and I could do no more but fall into the darkness that awaited.

An immense pressure was across me.  A force, pulling me down and down. My legs wouldn't work, my neck felt sluggish to move.

    A red glow washed across me, twisting and warping in abstract shapes to slowly come together.

I was in Fillydelphia, witnessing the shape of the great Wall before me, taller than ever.  Dizzy, tired, and parched; I could only lethargically shift and moan toward it as the construct got higher and higher, growing from the ground while my own place of lying only got deeper.  A monumental force around my torso, tugging and striving, holding me down and pulling me deeper into the crater. Across the lip and slipping further and further in.

I couldn't even scream.  I couldn't cry out. My throat was burning, the radiation from the crater affecting me.  Tasting blood, it dribbled from my mouth.

But there, ahead of me I saw a light.  A shining beacon of hope that held itself amongst an aura of calming magic.  It grew, rising and floating into the sky toward the top of the massive wall, now reaching the clouds and bending backward over me.  Choking on blood, my lungs spasming and retching, I forced one leg to wave, to shout for help.

But the light only kept ascending, flying without wings toward the lip of the Wall and disappearing into the world beyond, never to be seen again.

The glowing heart of the crater only awaited me, every part of my body beginning to ache and shiver from radiation poisoning.  My chest swelled up, the tainted lungs bulging and throbbing. I couldn't breathe. I was dro-dro...drowning...

The sickened last gurgling scream to leave my lips was only responded to by that one hated line, emanating from Fillydelphia as a whole.

    ...she didn't save you.

Everything began fading, a darkness beyond black creeping in at the edges of my vision, only being broken by one brief sight of somepony reaching out toward me, shining with an inner light.  G-Glimmer? Coral? S-Sundial? Who was...

   
Every sense was brought into the horrid weight of reality by the slap across the face.  My head twisted, coughing and spluttering on the taste of iron in my mouth. A sweet and sickly stench drifted into my nostrils.  The back of my head felt wet.

    “Wake up, filly.  You've had your rest.”

    No. No, don't open my eyes.  All a nightmare...all a nightmare...all a—

    The second slap threw my head back down again.  A thick lump on the back of my skull ached terribly, pounding on my brain.

    “Oh no. No sleep any more for you, filly.  Time to get up and face the music. Dreamland's too good for you.”

    I whimpered, curling my legs inward, striving to stay in the darkness, praying to wake up to somewhere else.  Anywhere else.

    “I said wake up!”

My head was lifted, pulling my entire body from the floor, shaken, slapped, and thrown back again.  Two hooves clasped either side of my face, squeezing hard enough until I began to whinny and murmur in pain.  My cheeks were being crushed. My jaw pushed too far to one side.

Finally, I opened my eyes to see my assailant.  I knew who it was by voice alone, but seeing Barb's sick grin made me want to break down in tears on the spot.  We were in darkness, an enclosed room. Around me were a few other ponies lying in various states of health. Some of them had died. One had been lying right next to me with open mouth and eyes, three curved knives embedded in his sternum.  The gunfire had finally stopped, but other, more messy and sickening sounds had replaced it within the immediate vicinity.

    Barb, however, gradually came into clarity.  Upon witnessing him, I simply screamed.

The chieftain wore the carved skins of dark-coated ponies.  Small lengths of flesh lay across his torso like crude barding, blending into the darkness. Draped across his shoulders, I could see the dark blood still sticking to the back of his neck.  It settled across thin leather armour that bore carved designs of barbed wire running below the still wet skins. Held on his front hoof, a long blade seemed to pulse with dark magic. In the shadowy room, amongst corpses, I felt like I was staring at some sort of horrific, leering wraith.

Seeing my gaze flicker from side to side of his new sick attire, Barb chuckled, trotting forward, making my eyes go wide when the barding of skin rippled and flowed through the shadows around him.

“There we go. All awake at last. Like my latest fashion? Helps get the frenzy going, seeing their leader get ‘dressed up’.”

I was released from the telekinetic field, thrown to the ground and left to curl up in this macabre place. Barb’s white teeth became clearer, as his grin widened.

“Actually, I was beginning to think we might have needed your little buckfriend to keep you alive for a while. Pity he's a little busy right now.”

    Another fleshy crunch sounded from outside, accompanied by a shocked gasp of pain and retching.  Oh Caduceus...

    “It really is quite lovely, you know?  That satisfaction of seeing somepony rush blindly into your trap and just knowing you're going to have fun with them afterwards.  Welcome to the kill room, little filly.”

Glancing from side to side, shivering as each lifeless corpse stared back or was frozen in a horrified expression.  They'd all died knowing...

    “W-What do you want with me?”

    “Oh, that question!” Barb seemed delighted, trotting in a circle waving his head with a smile.  “I do so love that question, it always allows one of the better answers.”

Backing away, I squeaked as I accidentally nudged into another of the multiple corpses in the darkened room.  I could barely see, my vision wasn't adjusting in this odd half-light. Barb moved forward, his crisp white teeth showing with a mad grin.

    “Which is simply...nothing.”

    “N-nothing?”

“Nothing at all.  You aren't special to me, not anymore.  You've done your part, stayed silent when I needed you to and got those keys.  Oh no. Now you're simply the next in line for me to throw to my Shades. All bets are off now that you're here, filly.  Must feel nice, knowing your life is about to become nothing more than a plaything to keep my Shades entertained.  But that's what you get when you become our prisoner.  Now get up, the game starts soon.”

    My only response was a wet cough and a weak of my head.

    “Please, Barb, I...I...”

“If you're going to beg.  Save it for the Shades.” His eyes narrowed dangerously.  “Begging won't help you now, but it will entertain them.  Feel free to cry as much as you want then.  They love that.”

Already my eyes began to tear up, the stark horror playing its way into my head.  We were trapped with raiders in a place nopony could get to, or wanted to get to. Betrayed and left to be captured.  Feeling disbelief and horror threaten to overwhelm me, it took Barb actually pulling me with his magic to rip me from the ground and yank me outside, crying the entire way.  When the light hit me, it became clear how little I had. I'd been stripped of everything. My saddlebag was gone, my battle saddle torn off and even my fleece had disappeared.  I felt horribly exposed.

    But what lay out of the room was so much worse.

That same hell I saw on my way in now lay around me within an old restaurant.  Raiders screamed and whooped, laughing and savagely picking on the new influx of prisoners.  They staggered or lay on the ground, their malnourished slave bodies unable to cope with the 'fun' the raiders were having.  Others lay lifeless, just hunks of skinned meat hung over the balconies of the plaza. The remaining slaver who had charged with us was lying in a groaning, skinned heap, bloodied and stained atop the restaurant counter like some hideous, living trophy.  A hideous cry went out, followed by a ripping sound of which I didn't want to guess the origin of. It had come from another backroom behind the restaurants kitchen where blood now seeped out of the doorway. Knowing Barb's new 'armour', I began to feel distinctly sick as to what that rip and agonised cry was.

Yet as I sought them out immediately, I felt momentary relief at seeing each friends alive.

That was about where the good news ended.  My eyes first saw Caduceus, dropping across the floor, his snout broken and leaking blood.  Three raiders rushed around, laughing and picking him back up again. The nurse limply let his head drift from side to side, clearly nearing unconsciousness.  Glimmerlight was here, but kept contained in an old rusted cage on the other side of the room. One of her eyes was swollen, closed over as she lay on her side, breathing very thinly.  Brimstone and Ragini were near her, both kept chained to the ground on thick manacles that the raiders had hammered into the concrete floor. Even as I watched, raiders were taking it in turns to rush in and strike the trapped warlord, laughing as they dodged his return attacks, constrained by the chains.  His fury was clear to see.

    Protégé was nowhere to be seen.

“Eurgh!” 

There was another hard crack, as a raider bucked Caduceus in the stomach.  The buck doubled over, blood spraying from his mouth. I tried to run to him, attempting to help him up.  I felt his hooves latch onto me, shivering and desperate, turning his face to exhaustedly look at me.

“Murk...run. Run, Murk...” He tried to gasp, now trying to push me somewhere, too beaten and dazed to think straight.  But magic gripped my midsection, pulling me back. Our hooves separated as I tried to keep a hold of the pony who'd kept me alive in the battle.  Barb sauntered among the entire scene, absent-mindedly tugging me with him. Below us, I could hear the slaves we had secured being rounded up and herded.  Across the room, some of them were cowed in the corners, the light grey of Coral between two other mares was clear to see. She was unconscious.

“Welcome to our little playhouse, filly.  Course that play only goes one way, not that we exactly care.  Hey, boys! Filly's up!”

My blood chilled as the raiders, bearing bleeding piercings and crude bloodied warpaint swung up, cheering and moving forward toward me.  I saw Glimmerlight's head rise sharply at my presence, before pushing her hooves against the cage.

    “Just leave him be!  He doesn't deserve anything in here!”

They didn't care. Reaching me, I found myself being shoved from raider to raider.  One of them grabbed me, pointing at me.

“Leave him? He shot me in the fuckin' chest!  Big bruise there now, ruined me favourite plate! Who's to say I dun get my revenge, eh?”

He shoved me to the ground, teeth clamping onto a wing. Hidden from Glimmerlight by the crowd, I heard her scream for me, only louder as my own shriek of terror echoed above it, high pitched and pleading.

“Leave them alone, for now.” Barb waved his subordinate away.  My wing snapped back into its deadened held state, aching from the movement.  I felt the stiff ligaments grind under my skin. “Get him in a chair, we've got a warm up to do first.  Time for a little Six-Shooter Surprise while we wait for Shackles, boys!”

The bellowing roar momentarily deafened me.  I was hoofed across the face, dizzied and dragged across the floor to be pressed against a small bench.  Coarse rope was wound around me, cutting off circulation and rubbing at my skin. It was soaked in rainwater from lying under a leak.  The storm was still raging, with more and more water beginning to trickle through the roof and puddle on floors or the plaza. I could hear the broken frame of the skylight banging in the wind, and hear thunder smashing its way across the sky, punctuated by lightning that gave the raiders a terrifying, demonic appearance.

    “Murky!  Murky!  Are you alright?  Did they do anything!?”

Glimmerlight's voice shouted toward me; if I strained my neck I could just turn my head to see her cage.  The mare was pressed against it, looking through one eye to check on me. They hadn't, but there was another problem bubbling up inside me.

    “I n-n-need my RadAway, Glimmer. It's getting worse...”

I could feel my throat searing and aching from more than just swallowed rainwater.  The cough I followed up with only helped prove it. I had two sachets in my saddlebag, but wherever that was I didn't know.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Murky...just stay strong. I'm here, alright?”

“HAH! Not for long!” One raider hoofed her cage, before leering in, his eyes clearly not on her face.

Hissing back, she struck the cage toward him with a fiery backlash of anger. The raider only laughed, trotting on to help with their set-up. Holding a hoof over her damaged eye, my dear friend just silently pleaded with her eyes to me. The words clear: we'll get out somehow.

The raiders pulled a single small table out with two hard wooden chairs either side.  All the rest were removed, thrown away or over the edge until they had an area left over.  Cries went out for 'the first two!' Chants and bellows of choosing went. I heard “The filly!” a few times, or “The traitor!” Barb, presiding at the middle, waved his hooves to take it all in.

    “You all know the rules!  The leader gets first pick, then we'll let you all vote on the lucky two!  First round!  I say...”

His eyes cast about, from me to Glimmer, then they rested on Brimstone before looking back at Glimmerlight.  He grinned, before turning to point at the one surviving slaver.

    “Let's have him!  Don't we all remember him throwing food across old Rusty Nail?  Let's bring him in to see how brave he is now he’s in our world!”

    A cheer went out, the Shades dragging the struggling and shouting slaver toward the table.  Immediately they began chanting.
   
    “Next!  Next! Next!”

    Barb's eyes settled on the impassive Brimstone, then again on Glimmerlight, before grinning wickedly.  Oh no. Oh no.

    Then his hoof shot to the side, away from her.  “The griffon!”

But Ragini would not be taken so easily.  The moment they approached her, the griffon lashed out, scything her talons across one’s face and even beating her strong wings to slap them back.  Laughing, Barb hopped down from his perch to look at her.

    “Still so resistant, featherbrain. What?  You think you've got a hope? You think someone's coming to save you?”

    “Stern's wing are going to waste you all.  I can grin knowing you're going to be taking an anti-machine round to the head very soon.”

“Oh?” Barb chuckled, accompanied by the raiders.  “But you see, dear griffon, they aren't coming. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm no idiot.  You think I'd have started this if it were anything but a completely controlled move? Do you not remember Shackles casting you and your beloved master to us?  Oh no. Right now he'll be out there telling the griffons that all is fine! That I've agreed to negotiate with him and end the violence. Sure we might get a little punishment, but we're a tough lot.  Only now, there won't be any Protégé in power, he'll be long dead by then.”

    Ragini struck out, her claws whizzing inches from Barb's face.  The raider didn't even move.

    “Really, you all played your part so well in our plan to get Shackles in power, where ponies like me will benefit so much under his protection and interests.  Poor Protégé, the prodigal 'son' of Red Eye, cut down while foolishly leading a suicidal mission against me.  Only for Chainlink Shackles to show his worth by ending this with words.  He'll be praised.  Really, did you all honestly think I didn't know about that side door?  Really?”

Fury swept Ragini, and with a loud cry, she leapt forward.  One of her chains broke from the wall, her oustretched talons sweeping across Barb's face.  Forced to dodge, he recovered his posturing as fast as he could, but everypony had seen him have to react quickly.  It broke the spell of arrogance.

    I knew his anger when he was forced to have to react.  A dangerous tone cut into his voice.

    “Oh, big mistake, griffon. Big mistake.  No, you're not going in the game, you get to suffer.  To suffer the worst thing any flyer could ever have.”

    His eyes looked to the side, finding me.  Then he grinned, getting an idea.

    “...pin her down.  Break her wings. This bird won't fly ever again.”

Ragini struggled immediately, pulling on the chains, slashing out.  From nearby, I saw raiders pulling over an old iron block along with a sledgehammer.  My sides felt like they had a phantom ache, tears springing into my eyes. The imagery of a slave master holding an anvil and a hammer ready, of being dragged toward it prime in my mind. I wanted someone to stop this. Anyone.

    But nothing could. We were simply their toys now.

Even as it began, I struggled helplessly, trying to hide my own wings out of fear alone.  Barb only sat beside me on the bench, holding my face toward Ragini as the raiders pinned the large creature down, pulled out her first wing, and swung.

    I hadn't known griffons could scream that loud.

Hideous minutes passed.  Each crunching impact making me cry out and try to look away.  But he held me there, looking like some haunting demon overseeing his pit; one hoof despicably caressing my wings to just remind me.  The piercing cries of the griffon echoed all around the plaza, going on and on.  Barb only chuckled, delighting in the 'performance' before finally signalling them to stop.  Each wing, pulverised and broken beyond repair, drooped at her sides. She was controlling her expression, holding back tears and refusing to give them the satisfaction, but I knew that look, that horrible realisation of what she had now lost.  Ragini had never liked me, but I quickly began to feel only I would really understand her pain right now. Very quickly, I saw her seem to pass out on the spot, the agony overwhelming her.

    “Well, well, well!  A nice warm up! Now back to the event. We'll need somepony else now!  How about...”

Scanning his eyes across, I saw him clearly tempted by Brimstone.  The warlord just met his gaze, as though daring him for whatever sick game this was.  Barb only grinned, changing his glare to Glimmerlight. His hoof shot out to the side again, just like before, like he knew it was taunting me.

    “The mare's new little boy-toy!  Bring him up here!”

Caduceus, held up by two raiders, reacted with shock, trying to push backward.  But they closed around him, dragging the buck over to the table where the slaver was being forced into the seat and held at gunpoint.  Glimmerlight bucked the cage, crying out to him. I did too, but all I received was a hoof to the skull. Crying out in pain, I only briefly saw them pushing Caduceus into the chair before Barb silenced them again.

“Six!  Shooter!  SURPRISE!” 

Another resounding cheer.  

“As I said, something to keep us all entertained while Shackles sorts out the talks with the griffons!  So for those six-shooter virgins out there...”

    A raucous laugh from the raiders.

    “...the rules.”

Protégé's revolver slammed down on the table between them.  It had been horribly customised and ruined. There seemed to be a new metal sheath covering the back of the revolver itself, preventing anypony seeing the contents of the chambers.  His magic, dark shadowy and whisping, picked it up before loading a single round into it.

“You may recognise the idea similar to one many gamblers play with if they're feeling a little extreme, but we take it a step further.”

The revolver snapped shut, spinning the drum wildly.  He then held it between the two. Caduceus glanced at it, nervously watching the gun.  The slaver was breathing heavily, easily calmer than the nurse. Caduceus, looking toward me and Glimmer, just shook his head.

    “I don't want to play your game!  Look, I can heal—”

“Tough!  You stood against us, so it's you or him now!  This gun's going to spin, right? Whoever it lands on takes the gun and pulls the trigger against their own head.  End of the match, somepony's going to be dead, so who will it be?  Slaver or nurse? Calm or nervous? You look ready to piss yourself, healer!”

The raider's laughed again.  Caduceus was wounded, sweating and tired.  I could see him shaking. Please Goddesses, pull him through this.

    “Please!” Caduceus thumped a hoof on the table.  “There's no reason to do any of this!”

    “Shut up!  You're playing!”

    The revolver whipped him across his broken muzzle, drawing a sharp gasp, and leaving Caduceus leaning heavily to one side.

I could feel myself wanting to shout support, but my throat was raspy, and I wasn't sure if it even felt right.  Him winning meant somepony else dying. There was no happy end to this. It was a decided game. One death, one survivor to whatever else the raiders wanted to do.  The inevitability of it was heartbreaking. We were trapped in their deluded world, abandoned by sanity.

    “Round ONE!”

    Now their sick games were beginning.

The gun span in Barb's magic.  The raiders began cheering, just as a roll of thunder made the room shake.  The table overlooked the plaza, blowing the two duelling ponies' manes in the wind.  The revolver sped up and spun madly, before slowing...turning...aiming...

...right at Caduceus.  The gathered ponies whooped, laughing as I saw Caduceus gasp in horror.  The poor buck had only come to help ponies. He didn't deserve this! Shaking, he reached out his hooves, taking the revolver so lightly he nearly dropped it.

    “Look, we can—”

    “DO IT!  DO IT! DO IT!”

    “They want you to pull that trigger!  Best not upset them or it's kneecaps for you, lad! Hahaha!”

Wiping his mane, Caduceus took the pistol.  Shaking, he began holding it against the bottom of his muzzle, pointing upward through his skull.  Glimmerlight was pressing her nose through the bars, soundlessly moving her lips.

    Whimpering, Caduceus closed his eyes, a hoof resting on the enlarged trigger.

    Click.

The gun slammed down, Caduceus gasping and breathing hard, shivering intently.  The slaver met his glare harshly, staying silent and preparing should it ever land on him.  I squirmed, trying to move. Caduceus needed support, somepony beside him!

    “Round TWO!”

Spin, spin, spin. The revolver travelled even faster, blurring before finally slowing down.  Caduceus slammed a hoof on the table.

    “Please!  Stop this madness, before somepon—”

His watcher behind his chair rocketed Caduceus' head forward into the table.  I screamed out loud, stopped only as my throat lurched and spat blood across the chair.  It kept coming, slight spray after slight spray. Bound down, it hurt my body, unable to properly move with it.  Caduceus was pushing himself up, but I could see his eyes on me.

    “Somepony. Get him RadAway...he nee—”

    Another hoof cracked into his skull.  Recovering from my coughing fit, feeling myself flush with heat and shiver in fever, I was awestruck.  Here he was in the middle of this fiendish game, still following his oath.

“Maybe if you win...hehe. We'll say that if you win, you can get him what he needs to survive.  Sound fair, everypony? Nurse wins and the filly gets his medicine! Pressure's on now, 'Caddy', hehe...”

The gun was still spinning, sped up again during the distraction by Barb.  But now it came to rest on the slaver. Growling, the slaver picked it up, holding the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger quickly while roaring in anger.

    Click.

    Slamming the gun back down, he shook out his black mane.

    “Fucking game. Fucking raiders. Fucking sick bastards!”

The game did not stop.  The gun spun. The gun stopped.  Once again, it faced the slaver who swore, pounding the table with a hoof.  Snarling and knocking back a raider who tried to force his hoof, he just picked up the gun and held it.

    “Fuck...fuck...fuck...”

    The gun was raised to his head.

    “FUUUUU—” Click.  “—UUCK!”

    Crying out, punching a hoof up on sheer terror-filled adrenaline, the slaver celebrated in sheer relief.

“Half way down!  We're into the home run here, my friends!” Barb announced, waving a hoof in grand fashion.  Lightning lit him from behind, flaring him into a mad silhouette, that skinned barding becoming beaded with raindrops that sizzled on the dead flesh.  His magic pulled the gun from the slaver, leaving him to breathe out, snarling a sudden grin at his 'opponent'.

    “One in three, nurse. One in three...”

Caduceus just sat and stared at it, looking on the verge of breaking down completely.  The gun began to speed up again, but I saw him only now turning to look toward Glimmerlight.  The two just stared at one another, sharing unspoken support in the middle of this hellish nightmare we had been trapped in.  I kept trying to think of ways out, But there weren't.  Nopony was coming for us until we were already dead. We had no way out...no way out.

The gun stopped facing Caduceus again.  I heard his near silent whimper of fear.  He was putting on as brave a face as he could, but I could see his cheeks stained with stressful tears.  Turning, he saw me looking, even though my building sickness, I made sure to keep my eyes on him, trying to offer what pitiful support a coward like me could.

But his face hardened upon seeing me.  I could see the look in his eyes. Barb had promised him a chance to get me RadAway if he lived. That was just the little bit of hope we needed.  Come on, Caduceus!

    Steeling himself, the buck turned, sweeping up the gun and planting it under his head again.  Breathing deeply, closing his eyes, he seemed to go utterly calm. Raiders were chanting, the slaver was thumping his hoof on the table, as though getting caught up in this.

    “Right. Right, do it and I can heal. Oh, forgive me for doing harm in this moment...”

    He pulled the trigger.  Ever so slowly I saw the gun move. react and—

    Click.

The cheer was enough to make me whine in pain at the noise.  Raiders were taking bets, bets of all things from caps to 'turns' with prisoners.  One mare seemed particularly eager to get a hold of Caduceus if he won. I wasn't sure he appreciated it much, falling to lie his head on the table, hyperventilating in shocked relief.

    Suddenly, the slaver didn't look so calm.

Glimmerlight was pressed against the bars, watching with a hurt look.  We shared a glance. This was coming to its end. Caduceus had survived one more round. It felt like a fall into madness, praying that somepony else got the bullet, but he was our friend!

“Next round!” Barb announced, the gun spinning for an incredibly long time.  Finally, it began slowing, twisting, and sometimes accelerating again to draw out more thunderous stomping from the raiders.  Even the raiders below us watching the doorways were cheering as they waited to hear the bang.

    Slowly, dreadfully, it pointed back at Caduceus again.

    I heard Glimmerlight scream out.  “You can do it! Trust! Trust in something!  You can still win this, Caddy!”

    He was shaking so much, hooves cradling the revolver, looking across at Glimmerlight.  I could hear his voice stammering.

    “One more...fifty percent chance. Oh no...  “

    “Come on!  Do it! DO IT!”

    The raiders joined her, but for their own reasons.

“Go, ya coward!”

Finally, shakily, it went up to his jawline one again.  His eyes looked sideways at me, before becoming determined, beginning to utter something, a healer's oath...

“We pledge to the Princesses...to the Ministries as one...to Equestria as a whole...” He began reciting.  “...we of the Ministry of Peace choose to suffer any hardship to bring healing to those who need it; who require our aid, be they pony or any creature.  Kindness in all things, strength to carry through and let those in need know we have the courage to stand in the line of fire to save them!”

Raising his voice, shouting above the raiders, he took one last look at the slaver before him, who was already beginning to look nervous.

“I may have been born long after a time such an oath was meant for, but I see ponies in need of my skills. I will find the courage to stand up for them!  Weathervane taught me that much; to go through fear to find the chance to heal!”

Glimmerlight could hardly look prouder, smiling, crying, nodding her support to him.  He could do this. Come on, one last chance! One last—

    BLAM!

    Every sound ceased, other than the echo of the revolver going off slamming back and forth between the plaza walls.  

Slumping forward and to the side, his body fell off the chair and collapsed lifelessly upon the ground.

Glimmer's voice reached my ears before I could even take a breath, a drawn out wail of horror and loss.  My own cry strangled itself on my rough throat, the effort forcing me almost to unconsciousness and feverish fainting.  My eyes were just locked on him on the floor. Just...b-but no warning or...or goodbye...

The raiders whooped, laughing and stomping.  Bets changed hooves. The slaver cheered out, throwing his hooves in the air, slamming the table in jubilation.  Brimstone merely lowered his head, snarling with barely repressed fury. Barb took centre stage, recovering the gun.

    “And just like that it's over!  What a round! What a surprise for the good doctor, eh?”

I'd lost a friend before I even got to properly know him, through the most unfair and random chance possible.  The wastes claiming another good pony without regret or reason. He was gone.

    Just...like...that.

“NEXT!  ROUND!” Barb, loud and proud, was demonstrating all the presence of the leader now, the shadow left to lie silent.  My tears wouldn't stop coming. I kept remembering the scant day or so around Caduceus, another pony who had been kind to me, torn away by some stupid reason!  I'd been starting to really like him, with that polite and professional attitude, the way he wasn't afraid to just give me a hug or take care of me even when he knew he shouldn't be away from the hospital...

    He'd risked his life to save us...

Now Fillydelphia had left him as just another corpse.  That same body that was now being heaved over the balcony to fall into the half flooded plaza below.  Glimmerlight was calling them every name under the sun, banging the cage. Even Brimstone took a swipe at one raider who got too close, sending him smashing back into the others. They just laughed.  They didn't care about anypony!  Feral and sadistic, they just danced in the mania of their hellish world.

He couldn't be just gone like that. It wasn't right, it was too early!  He was meant to survive! To escape with us!  

“No...”

    “Now who's next? How about I let you lot choose this time, eh?”

Immediately, the crowd began chanting.  I saw Ragini wake up from the noise, moaning in pain as her ruined wings spasmed or tried to move.  The raiders threw hooves in all directions, calling for who they wanted. Some pointed at slavers they hated, others at slaves who they thought would be funny.  Many crowded to get Brimstone in there.

    But there was one or two names meaning the same pony above all of it.

    “FILLY!  FILLY! FILLY!”

    “PEGASUS!  PEGASUS!”

    Barb pretended not to hear them, amping them up like some troupe leader, before he finally rounded and pointed at me, his flesh cloak wavering around him.

“The little runt it is!”

Their cheer almost drowned out the thunder itself.  The rain had only gotten harder, the ongoing thumping of it hitting the ground merging with my shivering and matching the sudden increase in terror I felt.  Under the hiss of rainfall, I felt hooves clasp over me, tearing my bonds free. I heard Glimmerlight scream for them to let go of me and heard Brimstone bellow.  They were not kind, not respectful, and filled with a frenzied mob mentality. I screamed again, feeling myself being born aloft by them and carried to the now bloodstained table and chair.  Hooves grabbed or pushed me all over as they massed around to force me in. My wounds were grasped, making me shrilly plead and push back. Many of them imitated my high voice. One even spanked me with a hoof, getting a big laugh for my reaction.  I felt so powerless.

My rump landed on the sticky seat. I tried to push away, but they were insistent.  Then the barrel of a rifle was pointed against my cheek.

    “You try to run, we don't kill you, filly.” Barb spoke from behind the riflepony.  “We'll only stop ya running. Trust me, we can do so much worse if entertainment isn't our business.  I'm sure there's a few ponies in here would just love a pegasus. You know what they call wings?  Handlebars!”

The sick joke made them roar in laughter Whining and curling up on the seat, trying to cover every part of myself I could, I could see Glimmerlight trying to buck open her cage again, with little luck.  Brimstone was striving, pushing against the wall with all his might, but the chains were in deep. He fell to the ground, panting and trying to build his strength into aching muscles.

“Our next challenger!  Now who shall we get to face him?” Barb swung around, brandishing the revolver.  “I said I'd let you choose, but may I offer a recommendation?”

The raiders went quiet.  They were too excited, too hyped up to worry about who got what now.  This was their pay off, for weeks of waiting without opportunity to really cut loose, and I was in their sights.  But who would they—

    “What about...his master?”

    My heart skipped a beat.  Amongst a colossal cheer that shook the very roof with their stomping, one of the doors leading out of the restaurant onto the second floor of the plaza was knocked open, a sorry sight being dragged in.  Protégé had been horrendously beaten, barely able to even trot as they shoved and pushed the normally so proud unicorn in. Seeing me sitting opposite the table, he just scowled at them.

    “You won't achieve anything with this!”

Barb chuckled.  “On the contrary.  I don't want to. We just want a good time!  Win or lose, one of you are not going back to your bed tonight!  Now, get in the seat and we'll begin...”

    “We can— URGH!”

One of the raiders, a sickly yellow mare with an old grenade pin through her nostrils, slammed a pipe into his back legs.  My master went down, before they began pulling him across to the table. I wanted to run around it, to help him, but the rifle's cold muzzle still pressed against my neck.

“Now!  Master or slave, which will survive Six Shooter Surprise?” Barb announced to the rest of the raiders.  Protégé and I just looked at one another. This was...oh Goddesses lift me from this hell, this wasn't right.

    Me or him.  There was no way out of it.

    One of us was going to die.

Barb spent some time building the raiders up into another frenzy of excitement.  Many of the slaves were being forgotten, thrown in locked rooms or held down with chains and shackles.  A huge portion of the gang had come up to view this match. Surrounding us on all sides, we were alone in a sea of raiders against the balcony of the plaza.  Behind us, rain poured through the skylight, the wind making the Ministry Mare posters billow and whip around. Only through a small gap could I see Glimmerlight, Coral, and Brimstone at the back.

    I couldn't stop crying, trying to not look at the gun, not wanting to imagine what we were going to actually do.

But Protégé would not be cowed so easily.  He was unsteady on his hooves, but he still managed to summon a little strength to sit up straight and point a hoof.

    “You're only allowing yourself time to end up dead, Barb!  Talk with me. We can end this without any more blood!”

    Barb simply leaned against the balcony, tossing his long dark blue mane out.  Then he sneered.

    “I've put up with this idealistic shit since the moment you woke up, kid.  I'm a little sick of it by now.  I know what you are. Shackles told me pretty clearly. I'm thinking that I can't stand to see one of Red Eye's nonces through this entire game.  I'd rather look at the real pony behind the mask.”

    He nodded to four raiders.

    “Strip him.”

Without hesitation, they bounded forward, grabbing and pulling Protégé off the seat.  He fought back, but the big burly earth ponies were far too strong. The eyepiece, something I was surprised he even still had on, was tossed aside, being taken by Barb.  Then they began pulling, ripping at buckles, and forcefully tugging at his barding and clothing. Over the course of a minute, they pulled everything that signified his uniform I'd come to know from the poor unicorn, leaving me to watch in horror.

    “I got it!  I got it! Off ya come!”

There was a tear of fabric, and finally, the barding was torn away, ripping the last of his clothing off my master. Even the clasp for his ponytail was taken, letting his mane fall loose around his head.  Shoving him over, Protégé landed in a puddle, wincing from the acidic liquid.

    But he was no longer a slaver.

Before me, battered, dirtied, sleep deprived, and kept away from food by a combination of duty and captivity...I saw nothing but a slave.  Those two deep red eyes just found mine, seeing my open mouth. He really was just like me.

Whipscars covered his body, even one old gunshot wound somewhere along his stomach line.  Patches where his coat hadn't regrown properly were a lighter shade of black; the legacy of Fillydelphia's diseases.  The large swelling from the sniper shot earlier was there too. He'd been through a life just like me. But one thing caught my eye, something I'd never seen before.

    His cutie mark.

I saw a symbol that both hurt and inspired, that was both a dream and a trap.  He bore upon his flank a brass coloured and simplified version of the symbol of Equestria itself, two arched shapes circling one another, while the red eye glowed at the centre between them.

To save Equestria. Under Red Eye.  It was everything that he was, everything he dreamed, and everything that was controlling his life.

    It was beautiful and yet covered in tragedy.

    There was something off about it, though. That red eye in the middle didn’t look like a normal cutie mark, it overlapped the circular shape, not quite in line with it.

I wasn’t given time to think on why that was. What was now a slave before me was picked up, and hurled back into his seat.  We were only a foot or two away from each other at this small table, almost like a staring contest. Barb chucked, spinning the revolver absent-mindedly.  

“There, there. Now isn't that better?  Nothing between the two of you now. The one who hid his wings, and the one who hid his past, both out of shame.  You can look right into their eyes, or even reach out for comfort if you aren't afraid to show it to all of us. We won't laugh...much.  Now let's get to business. But, how about we up the stakes?”

    The revolver's drum slid open, Barb inserting two bullets, one beside the other, before respinning.

    “Two rounds, less free slots before somepony gets it.  GAME ON!”

The revolver slammed down before us, before lifting and beginning to spin.  I was quaking, looking to Protégé for help or advice or...or anything, really! 

But he sat there, silent and as withdrawn as he could be.  Stripped of his uniform and eyepiece, reduced back to a rougher and more hurt pony, he just didn't cast that same easy confidence anymore.  Even so, he met my eyes, eventually speaking quietly.

    “I'm sorry, Murk.”

    I gulped, nodding that I understood.

    “I...I think it's...it's not you. The Master w-was going to d-do something anyway.”

    Barb rolled his eyes. “Oh...gag...”

The revolver started to slow. Protégé looked up at me, shivering in pain from the multitude of large bruising wounds on his side. “He what?”

Tears dripping, I fought to muster the courage.  This could well be my last few minutes. I had to say, come clean at last, let Protégé know that he'd been assailed from every direction, not just by Shackles!  To say that Grindstone was—

The revolver stopped spinning, pointed at me.  My train of thought derailed immediately, making me shriek and fall backwards from the weapon.  My watcher caught me, shoving me back toward it.

“No turning away!  It's your turn, pick it up!” The raider forced my hoof forward, until I felt the heavy weapon pressed into my grip.  How Protégé's magic fired this so reliably I'd never know. I held it, crying over it, feeling every wound throb and my sickness grow from the added stress.  But Protégé kept staring at me, as though silently trying to offer any courage he could. No. He was still the pony I could look up to.

    Slowly, I raised the gun, pushing the barrel into my mouth to help support its weight.  I looked to Barb.

    “P-please...d-don't do all this.”

    “Either beg louder so we can all hear and ignore or just get on with it, filly.” 

There was no negotiation. Whimpering, closing my eyes, my hooves graced the trigger, the feeling making me whimper.  Around me, some raiders chuckled, beginning to exchange more bets. The intensity of the moment was making me sweat, an odd heavy heat in the air even amongst the storm whirling outside.

    Please. Please Goddesses, please...please let me—

    Click.

Dropping the weapon, I cried out, my hooves waving and holding my own face in shock.  I hadn't even realised I'd pulled it! Oh Goddesses. Oh no...oh boy...I...I...

    “The game begins!  Round TWO! Five cylinders remaining, two of them loaded!”

“Murk!” Protégé spoke sharply as I lay my head on the table, crying profusely.  My eyes actually hurt from tearing up so much in such a short time. My gasps were just raspy coughs.  “Murk! Stay. Strong. The griffons might—”

    “The griffons will do nothing, colt-cuddler.  I told you when you woke up in the kill room!  Shackles is having a little chat with them as we speak.”
   
    Protégé glared up, anger crossing his face, his surprisingly long mane waving around his head.  “You trust Shackles?  He saw fit to betray me, to betray somepony on the same side as him!  What makes you think he won’t just let Stern and her griffons go ahead with their raid to remove a troublesome lying raider as well!?”

    “He fears me, boy. They can’t catch me. He fears what I'd do if he tried.  Everypony does—”

    “Chainlink Shackles fears nopony!  You don't ever consider yourself above him!  That's his thing! He believes nopony is ever more controlling than he is!  Your arrogance is blinding you to the— ARGH!”

The yellow raider mare made her presence known again, the pipe cracking against Protégé's damaged ribs.  Barb nodded thankfully to her, before returning his gaze to the revolver. Slowly, it kept spinning, before finally settling on Protégé.  My mas...or whatever he was to me, I didn't know, looked at it, before snatching it up in his own magic field.  He took long breaths, hissing on each one, sucking the air in deeply.  Simmering with frustration and nerves, he drew it up, turning the barrel against his own head before taking a breath.

    “This will come to hurt you in the end, Barb.”

I saw the trigger begin to pull...tightening...tightening. I didn't want him to die, he didn't deserve it!  But-but I didn't want to either...

His face screwed up, gritting his teeth.  The raiders cheered at seeing any sort of tension or fear on his face.  Seeing the proud master they'd laboured under so worked up and working to stay strong at all.  I hated this so much, this was wrong, twisted, humiliating and sick and wrong and terrible and...and—

    Click.

Breathing out, sinking into the chair, Protégé let the revolver rest again, dropping it the last foot from his telekinesis.  The crowd jeered the second round's failure to fire. Even Protégé was shaking on the spot, I could tell how much courage it took him to do that.  The atmosphere was mentally straining on him as much as I, what with us backed against this wet and exposed balcony by a mass of raiders.

    “One more down!  Round THREE! Four cylinders left with two bullets! Half and half time until off it goes!”

It immediately began spinning again, making me shiver every time the barrel passed by me.  I just tried to look at Protégé, to find the courage to speak up. But seeing that defeated look in his eyes, knowing he'd been abandoned to this with me.  It hurt so badly. My own terror wasn't helping, of course. It was all I could do to not become a mewling heap on the ground.

The revolver began spinning harder.  I heard the raiders pick up their bets, larger sums of cash or ponies being promised and exchanged.  One wanted my wings when I died. It was going to happen even if I survived. The gut wrenching sickness of that was only held back as I saw Protégé's face staring at me.

“I'm really s-sorry, Protégé...” I began stammering.  A feeling was building in me, one last thing I could do before we died.

    “...Murk?” He seemed surprised, looking up.

    “I lied to y-you.”

Barb's eyes met mine sharply before grinning.  He knew it as much as I. We were both dead anyway, it wouldn't harm anything now.

“It...it was The Master who hurt me.  I'm so sorry! I was just scared! Scared like I always am!” My head fell into my hooves upon the table, sobbing.  “I...I knew this might happen...but he told me not to say! He threatened me! Scared me! I couldn't resist him! I could have made this not happen!”

It all came out, even as the revolver began to slow down, arcing past my eyes with its barrel, I just kept telling it all.  About the Stable, about Grindstone, and about what The Master did to me. I saw Protégé just stare back, unable to tell if he was hurt or feeling pity.

Then finally, the revolver stopped moving...pointed at me.  I broke down further, only to feel a hoof stretch out and rest upon the side of my head.  Glancing up, I saw it was Protégé.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Murk.” His voice was quiet, soft, and shaky through the tension of the moment.  “You know what I am now...what I was. To not know choice or a will of your own. I know that...I...”

    His eyes closed, before I saw one single tear form.

    “I've been through the same before I earned my freedom. Murk, do not feel guilty. I understand.”

    Those two words, those two beautiful words that for the first time in my life really meant something.  Friends had said it, masters had implied it, many had believed it.  But for the absolute first time ever did I now see a pony, a born slave, who could truly know.  I wanted to ask so many questions, to spend time and just...just share in that understanding.

    But Barb's hoof slammed down, separating us and his magic tossing us both back into our seats.

“All well and disgusting to my eyes, doesn't matter now!  Filly? It's your turn! Careful with that trigger this time.” He sneered, bringing me crashing back to the horrific reality we were stuck in.  Fifty-fifty chance with this one, the same chances Caduceus had had. Oh Goddesses, if it were to happen now...

    “Pick it up!”

    “Please, I—”

    “I said pick it up!”

    “PLEASE!  Don't do this!  I don't want to d—”

    “Pick it up!” The revolver slammed into my hooves, hard and stinging, tossed by his magic.  Almost falling off my chair, my head twisting to avoid the impact; I saw Glimmer staring over, her eyes wet and a look of absolute horror on her face.  She'd lost somepony already, we both had, but now she was watching another of her friends go through it.

    “Do it!” Barb's hoof impacted on the table, making me shriek in shock, turning back to look at the gun.  Crying openly, I began to pick it up properly, hearing the raiders chant to 'DO IT!' over and over.  Protégé just looked on in despair, clearly frustrated and hurt beyond measure at the inability to escape this.

Slowly, tasting the metallic tang and residue from the last shot that killed Caduceus, I placed the barrel in my mouth.  My heartbeat seemed to grow louder, thumping, growing faster as the panic set in. Whimpering, whining, I just sat and shook with my eyes closed.  Part of me began to hope that I was even holding this right. The thought of not actually being killed outright made my entire body shiver in horror.

My hoof closed upon the trigger, the chant and beat of my heart only growing louder each time.  Be brave. Be brave like Caduceus. My teeth chattered on the barrel, that loose one stinging even as I cried out and pulled the trigger, hoping it-

    BLAM!

    My head exploded into agony.  My entire body fell away from the chair, and I landed surrounded by blood.  Screaming, wailing, and thrashing at the immense searing pain that had blown through my head, as I clutched my hooves to my mouth and howled into them.  The sound reverberated in the air, echoing and making my ears hurt even...even...

Quaking on the ground, the pain started to fade quickly, replaced with the harsh sound of my ears being assaulted by raider laughter.  Above me, Barb stood with a second revolver that had gone off just behind my ears.  The blood below me was from Caduceus.

    He winked.

“Always gets them, every time!”

    They simply laughed.

I broke down on the spot, the horror of the cruel joke and fake execution stretching my courage far past the breaking point.  I didn't care if they even laughed at me any more. They would not let me lie however. Two raiders picked me up. I fought, trying to pull away.  I cracked one in the shin, trying to pull myself nearer the balcony, but their magic gripped my mid-section tightly, pulling me back to the seat and returning the revolver to the table.  My face felt sticky with Caduceus' blood from the floor. I could barely sit upright, crying and falling forward, my nose running and throat hiccuping painfully. Like a foal begging for something from their mother, I couldn't stop the simple wish from crying forth.

    “Please just let me go!”

“Guess what?  NO! HAHA!” The raider to my right knocked me in the head.  Immediately before me, the revolver began spinning again. The game was still on.

    “Round FOUR!  Three cylinders left with two bullets!  More bullets than not now, my friends!  Get your intense bets in now for which one's gonna buy it first!”

    “MURK!” Brimstone's voice bellowed above all of the raiders.  “You can pull through this.  Remember what I first said to you!”

The shout felt so rare, for Brimstone to offer any sort of cry amongst his old peers.  But my memory, in a moment of strange accuracy, did remember the first line. I'd been a mess in the Pit, quivering on the spot in the presence of my icon herself.  Terrified to die, in an inescapable position. What was it he had said?

    “Put on a braver face there. Don't let them have the pleasure.” 

    It wasn't the words that meant so much, it was the reminder.  That one moment when I had been inspired beyond all others at the sight of the Stable Dweller escaping Fillydelphia before my eyes.  A sobering thought, to face it with better dignity.

    I could be braver...I could...I—
   
A knife descended into the table, narrowly missing my hoof.  Broken from any recovery, I screamed, clutching my shoulder out of habit.

“Stop spacing out there, filly.” Barb whispered into my ear, “I don't want my lot to have anything but you at your most terrified and pathetic. I know who you really are inside, so just let it out.”

Whimpering, seeing Brimstone growl and stomp at his chains again, to absolutely no avail, I could sense his frustration.  But Barb had me where he wanted me.  The knife slid up my leg as he drew it away, causing another filly-like whine to emanate from my mouth.  His audience was getting what they wanted, the absolute humiliation of two ponies. One of shattered pride, one of sadistic breaking.

The revolver was still spinning.  Wavering in that shadowy grip. Finally, hauntingly, it came to rest upon Protégé.  Breathing heavily and quickly, he just stared at it, his chest panting hard. Gripping it in his telekinesis again, the barrel raised.

“Barb. This won't end well for you.  Shackles and Grindstone don't care for anypony but themselves!  Even then they'll be in it for their individual benefit, I'll bet. You'll gain nothing from this in the end, that I—”

“Oh, get on with it!” Barb wickedly laughed, slapping the table.  “Pull the trigger! Let's see how much of that big brain really can come out!”

Scowling, frustrated beyond measure, I saw his eyes return to me.  Protégé still breathed quickly and harshly. Fighting to stop himself shaking, sweating enough that his mane was becoming bedraggled. He fixed me with a sad stare.

    “If...if this is it, please, just one thing.”

    “...y-yes?”

    He hesitated, his eyes momentarily avoiding mine.

    “Then I...I hope my impression upon you was not that of a tyrant, Murk...”

It took me a few attempts to muster any words, my throat beginning to clam up.  My vision was hazy, but I could still see those two pale red eyes sadly staring at me. Slowly, I shook my head, and I meant it.

    “It wasn't.”

    Something softened in his expression. A sense of bittersweet relief.

    “Then, perhaps that's one regret I can rest easy upon, should this be...”

Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, the revolver pressed firmly on his temple, Protégé hissed deeply and took one great last breath.

    “Don't lose sight. You can be free, Murk. I've never said it, but I know you can do it.  My way or your own...”

I wanted to rush over, to grab hold of that gun and move it so badly, but a rifle barrel touched the back of my neck.  I could only watch him, watch as he began seething at the mouth and pulling the trigger hard.

    Click.

    The entire gathering of raiders went stock still, before exploding in sheer excitement.  Protégé simply sat, stunned. Every odd had been against the last empty chamber being next, but it had been.  That meant...oh no...that meant—

    “ROUND FIVE!  SUDDEN DEATH! Two cylinders and two bullets!  All bets up!”

    This...this was it.

Behind me, knowing the stakes, I heard Brimstone lash at his chains.  His legs were bleeding from the effort, harming himself in every effort to get free.  Waving his raiders away, Barb gazed over at the massive figure.

“Oh don't even try, traitor.  You couldn't break that metal in your prime fifteen years ago when we all had that big laugh, never mind as the washed up, old, and declining bastard you are now.  What are you? Fifty five? Sixty? Hah, I made sure it's the same stuff we scavenged out of the yards.  It goes right through the wall to hold on the other side too.  You are not moving.  Besides...”

He nodded to a nearby raider carrying a sledgehammer, the same they had used on the virtually unmoving Ragini.  With a sick grin, the hammer swung around, impacting directly over the still bleeding bullet wound on his chest.  Roaring loudly in anger more than pain, Brimstone still fell to the floor.

    “Can't pull anything with a wound like that on your chest.  Now, back to our game.”

    Barb grinned at me, seeing my look of horror.

“What?  Oh, I'm sorry, was he your last hope here?  That the big old Brim would swing into action?  Forget it. Nopony's coming to help you. Now, time to spin the gun!”

Slamming it down again, the drama of thumping it before us never getting old with the raiders, I just gazed across at Protégé with tear filled eyes.  I knew I was giving that pleading look to end this, to stop it all somehow, but I couldn't help it. It was the Pit all over again, the inevitable inescapability of it all crashing down on my emotions, turning me into a blubbering wreck.

For his part, my master just continued to stare at me, breathing hard from his wounded ribs and trying to keep my eyes focussed on him rather than the gun as it moved achingly irregularly...side to side...spinning...spinning...

    It began slowing.

    “Murk, look at me.” 

I couldn't, the gun was—

“Look at me!” His authoritative tone returned, briefly. 

My eyes snapped upwards to see Protégé with an intense look, ignoring all the raiders stomping around him, each trying to pry through for a better look.

    “Pro-Protégé, I...I...”

    “Just keep looking at me. Don't look at them. Don't let them get to you, Murk.  Look at me.”

The gun began to wind down, moving deathly slow in arcs to face either way.  But my eyes avoided it at last, focussing on Protégé.

“You're a stronger pony than you know. You've come this far, Murk.  Even if...even if something ends today, you can be proud. I'm proud of you.”

    “Please, I don't want to—”

    The revolver barrel slowly moved just a bit further, achingly slow as it faced me...

    ...then Protégé.

    ...then back to me.

I didn't even move, I just stared at the inevitable conclusion.  Murky Number Seven, that unlucky corruption of the number and victim to the life that had been nothing but toil and pain the entire way, all to end tonight at the barrel of a gun in my mouth.

To be born a slave, you know of only two endings.  The quick execution that brings your life to a close, or the long sickness and exhaustion until you finally keel over on the job.  I now knew which was to be mine. A life of slavery, given a flash of hope at the end, but finishing today.

Strangely, a form of clarity overcame me that...that I was somewhat okay with it.  I'd screamed, wailing that I didn't want to die.

But the idea of a quick bullet to the brain, one flare and it all being finally over...all the pain, the starvation and sickness...finally peace...

My hooves lifted the gun.  Slowly, I placed it in my mouth.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Glimmerlight crying openly, battering the cage door in sheer despair.  It hurt to leave her behind. Protégé too seemed pained that it was me and not him. Brimstone merely looked lost, like a part of what was helping him was about to disappear forever.

My hoof found the trigger.  I didn't really want to go. Hope was still there, screaming in my breast to keep fighting, to look for some way out!  I could escape still! I had...I had my friends all here! I couldn't leave them, I couldn't. I couldn't...but I had no say any more.

    My wet eyes turned across all of my friends, imagining them all as much as seeing them.

    “...I'm sorry.”

    The barrel was pushed into my mouth more fully. I had to do this right.

    ‘The mare, alone and searching for the one close to her, or hopefully having found him. They'd promised to come for me, they would be searching for the already dead...’

    Slipping around the trigger, I began to push.

‘Glimmerlight and Brimstone, the most unlikely pair of friends to ever grace the wasteland, their efforts to get out losing one of their number forever...’

    With one last effort, screaming out as I did so, all the pain coming out, I pulled harder.

    ‘Protégé, witnessing the one born slave who understood him killing himself before his eyes.’

    Goodbye...goodbye all...

    ...and let it end.

    Click.

    Three seconds.  That was how long it took my brain to process what had happened, but they lasted longer in my mind than I could bear to stand.

    Nothing. It...it hadn't fired.

    My scream faded, the gun dropping limply in my hooves.  Protégé was awestruck, the raiders silent.

    Then Barb revealed a bullet in his hoof, and grinned.

    “Oops. Old habits die hard, hoofed the round when I last held the revolver, dumb filly. So...”

    He narrowed his eyes, that mad grin spreading.

    “How's it feel to have committed suicide and know you did it?”

I...there were no words.  I just started shaking, realisation and horror beginning to take shape.  My mouth quivered, eyes widening, unable to cry any more than I already was.  Small, strangled sounds escaped my throat. I heard the revolver clatter to the floor from my shaking hooves.

    I'd just....Oh Goddesses forgive me!  I'd actually pulled the trigger.

    It was the control tower all over again, only I'd gone over the edge.  What had I just done?  I felt anger bubble inside, at myself for knowing I'd been ok with it.  To know that a part of me still saw that sort of thing as a nice, easy way out that I'd ever consider.  Oh Celestia, that thought terrified me more than any raider.

    What had I done?

Still shaking terribly, sniffling, and whimpering ever louder, I eventually just cried out, feeling a wash of self-hatred and shame come over me.  I wanted to find somepony, to grab them and hold them, and just cry and cry. To curl up with Glimmerlight, or feel Caduceus' comforting grip or even just fall into Protégé's shoulder again, anypony.

“Aww, look at 'em!  I think we upset the little thing, lads!  Oh, I'm a bad pony.” Barb cackled, relishing in the opportunity to just completely screw with my head and emotions.  “But the game isn't over. We've still got one more cylinder, and I know there’s still one in this time!  You've got to keep playing little Murk. You don't get to cry and run away now!”

    “I don't want to—”

    “You will!  Spin the gun!”

Following his own instruction, the shadowy magic began to pick up over the revolver again.  Building speed, faster than ever before, the modified firearm began to whirl and blur on the spot.

    “Round and round the revolver goes...” Barb chanted, the raiders joining in.  “...who it'll kill, no pony knows!  Last round!  There's no tricks or jokes here. Just one bullet and a chosen pony!”

Even Protégé couldn't keep his eyes off the weapon, glancing up to me occasionally.  From the look on his face, watching me pull that trigger had drawn harsh emotions from him too.  But both of us were simply silent now, both knowing that the weapon would pick one of us.

    Back and forth...round and round...barrel...grip...barrel...grip...barrel...grip...

Eventually, it began to slow.  The barrel drifted more lazily, flying on the momentum of the spin and slowing after every turn.  Heart in my mouth, tears and sweat dripping off my face onto the table, my eyes just stared unblinking at it.  I couldn't do it again. If it picked me I knew I couldn't.

    It was time, the barrel was stopping...

    ...pointed directly at me.

    ...before shifting, slowly, the last bits of energy to creep around one more half turn to point directly at my master.

I would have looked up, to gaze with apologies and words, fighting to know what I should say to him, whether I should thank him or just stay silent, or tell him that I was glad to have met him in here. That I'd try to remember him or do something for him.

But the barrel had one last tiny eek of momentum still. So slowly that it stretched every emotion to just see it gradually moving and juddering, before coming back to me and finally stopping.

    It was me.

The raiders erupted into cheering and screaming.  Bets were thrown back and forward already with the end result chosen.  Arguments started, whooping and promises drifting between them. But I just sat and stared at the revolver.  That same revolver that had stopped the closest bid for freedom I'd ever made.

    Would ever make.

I felt myself shaken by the raider behind me, pointing a hoof at the gun.  Shivering, I picked it up under duress of punishment, holding the weighty revolver in my hooves.  This...this wasn't...no, it wasn't fair.  I was supposed to escape...

Glancing upwards and unsteadily holding the gun, I saw Protégé only look sad; trying to maintain his posture under the oppressive atmosphere.  The storm's wind circling in through the skylight whipped that mane across his face, sometimes hiding those pained eyes. He was a born slave, the one who sought freedom in, if anything, a differing story to my own.  A grander story of the slave who rose out of the pits to be somepony more.

One I may have to now accept would go on while my own ended here, after finally having made a decision to come here to try and help ponies.

    “We're all waiting, filly. Not going to show you're just a complete coward?  Come on, you did it once. Let's see that brain matter fly! Probably the only flying you'll ever do!”

    My master glanced angrily to Barb, taking the raider chieftain's glare without so much as flinching.

“You're nothing but a blight to all ponies, Barb.  You think this is going to help Equestria at all? That there's some purpose?”

    “On the contrary, I don't care.  Equestria's dead and gone. Might as well get on board the fucked-up-train of the future, boy!  I'm the conductor here and I say it ends here for him.”

    I had never seen my master scowl quite so much. Real, proper anger.

“I swear to you, raider, give me half a chance, and I wouldn't even care what your cronies did. That bullet would be for you.”

    Barb merely chuckled, patting Protégé's shoulder dismissively.  “I think not.”

He nodded to the clan, from where a dozen weapons pointed at Protégé immediately. Oddly, my master looked more to me than them, frowning.

“You so much as raise the gun to me, you'll be gone before you know it.  We're rough and ready, but we aren't without our skill, y'see. Oh and filly?”

My hooves were still holding the gun, not wanting to move it to my mouth. I couldn't...but on the mention of his nickname, I looked up, quivering.

“Don't think about trying to hoof the bullet or something either. I can feel the weight of the round in it, or lack of, should you even try to remove it.  Oh, that bullet's only going one place. Now come on kiddo. Get it done!”

The raider behind me began forcing my hooves upwards, ramming the barrel into my mouth and jarring against my loose tooth and swollen gums from their previous beating.  Mumbling in pain through the heavy metal barrel almost choking me, I felt my hoof raised to the trigger and left to do the pushing on the strange, inverted customised grip.  I was terrified my shaking would set it off, unwilling to apply pressure.

    I didn't want to die.

    I didn't want to die.

The well of emotion began surging up, hatred and shame that I'd pulled that trigger once, it only reminded me of that horrible voice deep down that always whispered, telling me about the one choice every slave always had to make it all end at last.  To cast yourself into the oblivion and the embrace of the Goddesses and pray they'll forgive you for doing it.  To even think it was still in there made me want to be...to be...

I did.  Falling to the side, convulsing as my sickness crept up and left me in a fit of coughing and retching, my blood mixing with Caduceus'.  I landed upon the floor, the revolver falling beneath me and clattering into the granite ground. Spitting red, struggling to breathe, my kicking hooves caught those trying to force me back up on the shins or knees.  A wave of fresh terror approached as I felt myself almost go blind, eyes rolling back as the pain and tightness in my lungs and chest flared up. It lasted for some time, almost half a minute, before finally the convulsions passed, leaving me exhausted, bloody and dying.

I was pulled up, my hooves fumbling below me with the revolver to keep it with me.  They left me lying against the balcony, my back to the long drop and the storm above.

    “I can't do it.”

    “Oh you will.”

    “I can't do it!” I screamed aloud.  “I...”

Looking up with blood dripping from my lips, still shaking violently inside and liable to expire any minute without my RadAway, I caught Protégé's eye.  I couldn't do this myself. I...

    “I want...I want Protégé to do it.  It's only one shot, he'd…” I sobbed. “He’ll do it right...”

    My master’s mouth dropped open. “Murk, you—”

“Please!” I half shouted.  “I...I can't do it. They'll only make it worse if...if I don't take the bullet. Please, just make it quick...”

The last words were nought but a whisper.  But I saw him finally look at me, sigh, and nod.  Barb chuckled again, trotting to grab the revolver from me.  The raiders raised their guns the moment Protégé took it, guarding him.

    “I think we'd all like to see this. The master forced to execute the one slave he really began to like?  How wonderful!  I almost wish I'd thought of it, filly.  Now get to work my dear 'master.'”

Stepping aside, he waved a hoof for Protégé to approach me.  Gripping the revolver in his telekinesis with a steady familiarity, the unicorn glared at the raider leader, before standing up.  His eyes travelled to every raider there was, silently seeming to voice his disgust of them. Pointing their weapons back, they just grinned around the mouth grips.  Slowly, keeping his head high, Protégé trotted toward me, and knelt down.

Everything other than the storm had gone silent. Each sharp sound of his hooves closing toward me like an individual movement closer to the end.

    “Murk, I...I just don't know what to say.”

Trying to calm my own shivering, I stared back toward him.  The rain was dripping around us, itching and stinging, but that didn't matter now.

    “S-sorry. I j-just couldn't do this...too scared of it...of it hurting. I never wanted to die badly.”

    “Nopony does.  I...I'll make sure it won't hurt, I promise.”

He pushed over, beside me.  Without really knowing why, I felt myself leaning into him, and felt one of his hooves wrap around my shoulders tightly.  I was so scared about what was going to happen, but it felt a little better knowing he was there when I couldn't even see my other friends through the crush of raiders, eagerly awaiting the sight they would be entertained by.

“Never wanted it to go like this.  I regret I couldn't have, no...I wish I could have let you go, Murk.  But, Master Red Eye—”

    “I know.”

    Opening my eyes briefly, I saw him looking down, rainwater dripping from his mane.

    “Born slave, remember?”

His mouth seemed to lightly curl up at my words.  We were even...understanding. Slowly, I felt the barrel press lightly against my temple at a certain angle.  Oh, so that was the better way then. I trusted him.

“I didn't want it to end this way, Murk.  M-Master Red Eye gave me a chance. Stuck by me, kept me alive, and guided me to the freedom at the end.  To make the choice for myself to go or stay. I...I wanted...”

    Oh Goddesses. To see the pain in his eyes.

“...I wanted to do the same for you.  I saw so much of myself from the moment we first met; when I told you that you needed to know freedom.  I tried to give you what I could of it, give you choices. Allow you those reckless moments to roam free into the crater or the hospital because I knew it was teaching you the one thing that mattered.  You impressed me so many times, more than anypony else. I won't forget you...”

Clutching tightly, I heard the trigger begin to move, shivering as the moment approached.  I felt so sorry to put him through this. Oh, Protégé, but it just has to be you...I couldn't do this part myself.

The revolver’s chamber began to move.

    I closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth, gripping him tightly. And then...

    Click.

Silence.  Absolute silence.  My eyes crept open, seeing the stunned look on Protégé's face as the gun did not fire.  But even more was the look of abject shock from Barb. The leader stood among his raiders, where their jaws had dropped, some with their weapons drooping to the floor.  They turned, looking away or between themselves as the reality of the moment finally landed home.

    “...what?”

Barb looked from side to side, his dumbfounded slaves shaking their heads or murmuring.  The guards were chattering to each other, did it misfire? A bad bullet?

    “...WHAT!?”

    Barb stormed forward two steps, fury overtaking his expression.  Then he found my eyes, he saw my look.  That cheeky look that meant I'd done something to the gun.

    “You...you little! You did something when you had that gun below you on the ground!  But the bullet was still in it! I felt the weight myself!”

    Coughing once, I just glared back up, with a brief intense stare to Protégé.

    “I didn't take it out...”

    Barb's eyebrow raised, my eyes moving back to him.

    “...I just moved it one chamber along.”

Picking up on the momentum faster than any of the raiders, Protégé swept up, the confused guards rifles not immediately pointed at us.  The barrel swept around, aiming as he spoke.

    “Lucky number seven you sadistic son of a bitch!”

    The revolver finally went off in an angry roar, lighting the entire darkened restaurant with the huge muzzle flare.  Barb dove to the side. The bullet slapped into his shoulder, and hurled the chieftain back into the guard who had watched me.  Dropping his rifle, Protégé's magic swept it up, dumping half the rounds into the ground with a painfully loud burst of echoing gunfire, sweeping just in front of the raiders on the floor.  The sparking rounds made them lurch backward, clearing away from us. He began pointing it back and forward at them before they got their own ones up from their confusion.

    “Don't move!  Anyone wants a shot, you'll get one to the face before it kills me!”

Finally, their weapons were re-aimed, the wounded Barb hissing for them to keep us guarded.  Protégé backed off to the balcony barrier, pulling me behind him. His eyes left none of the raiders, swinging the rifle back and forth rapidly.

    “You stupid buck. You stupid, idiot colt-fondling little fucker!” Barb bellowed, limping forward, his shoulder bleeding rapidly. “You think you can pull something?  We've got you covered! You two are fucking dead for this! You've got nowhere to go! Nothing but half a mag left and no plan worth a damn that won't have you caught and tortured till I make you scream like the filly!”
   
We were backed in, the raiders advancing till we were completely surrounded.  Our backs to the wall, Protégé keeping me guarded behind him. I felt the wind behind us off the plaza balcony, the long drop, swirling banners, and lashing leaks of rain to our rear providing a violent backdrop to our shaky position from the perspective of the raider gang keeping us trapped.  Protégé ground his teeth, valiantly keeping me defended before the thirty or so weapons aimed directly at our precarious little position.

My master's eyes glanced from side to side, the rifle following them, held close even in his magic field.  Barb only sneered, but Protégé remained steadfast, working through with nothing but desperation. Then I caught him out of the corner of his eye, a little glance and curl of his mouth.

    “Maybe you're right.”

To my horror, he raised the gun upwards, the wind blowing at his mane ever more violently, as though giving up.  But before Barb could even shout the command to take us, Protégé pulled the trigger. Half a magazine's rifle rounds soared upwards, shattering the skylight and punching toward the roof.

“Maybe we have nothing...” he began to speak softly, “...but maybe neither do you.  I told you, Shackles isn't going to fear you like anypony sane would. You're wearing my eyepiece. I'm surprised you haven't been wondering what that little counter at the top is.  The one that started counting down from sixty about fifty minutes ago when I set the timer.”

    I saw Barb's eye flick up, before scowling.

    “What of it!?”

“Sixty minutes to end this before the griffons came in. I'd hoped we'd last the full sixty before now, so you've sort of forced my hoof a little.”

    Then he smiled.

“I'll bet those griffons are up there right now around the skylight, preparing to raid. And I just gave them a good reason to go ten minutes early.”

    Barb's mouth opened to bellow a command, but it was lost amongst the explosive chaos that Protégé had lit the fuse to.

A great roar of detonation bellowed through the plaza from above.  One whole section of the skylight blasted in, sending millions of shards of glass cascading down amidst the rain and smoke.  As one, a dozen griffons dropped in, firing as they came into the mass of raiders that had so conveniently gathered in such a tight cluster around Protégé and I.

We dived to the ground, Protégé dragging me below him as the massive anti-machine rounds tore through the raiders, two or even three in a line.  Barb had disappeared almost instantly, his raiders falling to the ground in droves. The griffons whirled in the air, rounding off and dodging the little incoming fire to let their second wave divebomb in after them under the cover of the first.

Protégé grabbed a broken and fallen rifle, tugging the magazine off for his own before opening fire, knocking one raider off her feet while she galloped for us.  Firing in short bursts, he held the raiders off me, keeping me safe behind the cover of the balcony. Even so, I still managed to turn and buck one raider really hard (by my standards) in the only place I properly knew how.  My little hooves got right in between the legs to deliver a satisfying crunch, the raider going down, his voice as high as mine.  (Karma, for once!)

The incoming griffon fire was less now that the raiders had rushed off in all directions to take cover.  Many griffons had landed on the opposite balconies to snipe across. Heavy rounds rocketed above us, decapitating raiders and chewing the restaurant to pieces.  I hoped they knew to watch for us.

    “Murk, careful!”

Two raiders turned their guns on me, hiding low themselves.  One snapped back from Protégé's last round, the second snapped away, before re-aiming, snarling.  

An azure light overtook his weapon. Every pin, nut, bolt, and part coming apart in his mouth until he was left with nothing but a trigger (that he still pulled, in dejection).  The barrel upturned, smacking him in the face. Behind him, Glimmerlight's horn glowed from the cage, before she began screaming at me to get to cover. Both Ragini and Brimstone had grabbed whoever was nearest, talons or massive hooves ending their lives quickly.

Three others attempted to rush together.  But a magical spark and crackling sounded out, before a blast of overpressure blew across the room.  The three were sent spiralling through the air, along with multiple chairs, clean off the balcony edge to tumble to the ground.  Coral Eve, exhausted, her horn blackened around the tip and barely able to stand, snarled at the results of her telekinetic wave blast.

The combination of griffon fire and our efforts within the restaurant had mostly cleared it of raiders in less than a minute.  Most had fled or died in the initial barrage, but it was almost ours! One sniper shot missed a raider, making him duck down and scramble to two of his comrades behind a table.  Continuing on its path, the shot snapped one of Brimstone's chains. Free to bring more weight and strength to bear, the warlord began tugging, making the concrete crack behind him on the remaining chain across his foreleg.  Pent up rage, anger and frenzy was oozing off him, so much so the big pony seemed able to ignore the wound upon his chest. It quickly became clear how he'd stayed at the top of the pack so damn long.

    “Get him!”

Three raiders, dodging under the incoming fire that made everything above the thick balcony wall a killzone, took aim at the escaping Brimstone.  Then, with a mighty roar, the last chain sprung free, swirling around as he pulled the entire thing from the wall, a massive chunk of concrete with it.  The large rock pulverised the raiders, smashing one’s head and cannonballing through the other two. Bellowing his warcry, their old leader stormed into them, wielding the two chains in his forehooves like flails that snapped bones and tore at flesh.

With Brimstone free, even wounded, the battle swung so hard in our direction that it lasted little more than a few more seconds.  Protégé signalled to the griffons, who raised their rifles in recognition before soaring off to hunt down the remaining raiders.

    The restaurant was clear.

    “We...we did it...we did it!” I fell to the floor, gasping from exhaustion before rampantly coughing.  Springing free when Brimstone shattered the lock, Glimmerlight immediately galloped to the restaurant serving window.  Throwing bags and satchels to the side, she seemed to know where they had kept their loot. Feeling my chest tighten, I only caught a brief glimpse of her charging across, her magic already ripping open a sachet.  Grabbing and hugging me tightly, pushing the opening to my mouth, I grabbed it and let the rank orange taste fill my mouth. Faster than I'd ever done, I downed the liquid, simply leaning in and holding Glimmerlight in return.

Up close, I could see the marks, swellings, and bruises brought back fresh since the healing potions we'd found.  Around us, Brimstone and Protégé began to scavenge our weapons back, while other griffons arrived to secure Ragini and free her.  I could hear them gasp in horror, swearing revenge upon her attacker.

But Glimmerlight and I just held one another, unable to really say anything.  We both knew the reason, who we were mourning together. Blinking open one eye, I saw Coral Eve watching us, seeming surprised, startled even at the way Glimmerlight was acting.  But seeing me look back, she simply turned away, looking ready to collapse.

A streaked white griffon landed beside Protégé, scanning the doorways with his rifle.

    “The slaves have moved further into the plaza. We'll take it from here, sir.  They won't get out of here alive.”

    “No!  The raiders have moved in, but they have taken slaves as living shields. Remember the difference! Your assault will only—”

Protégé argument was cut short.  Gunfire broke out out on the plaza again, further back and around the corner, an area only used for simple slave living space.  I hadn't even really been there before. I’d only seen it briefly from the stairs. But it was a dead end, a last stand the raiders had retreated to.

“No survivors!  That's the orders from the top, Protégé!  Stern's up on the roof if you want to check with her!  They ruined a sister's wings. They will die for this!”

    “Not every slave is—” 

The griffon took off, leaving Protégé stamping in frustration.

“DAMN YOU!”

My master, bleeding, tired, and still shaking on sheer adrenaline, swung away from the griffon's as he began to grab what ammunition for his revolver as he could.

    “Not on my watch. Nopony else innocent will die today!  If Barb is taken down, the rest will likely surrender, right Brimstone?”
   
The gruff raider nodded curtly, fishing around the loot the raiders had acquired.  His brass hooves were returned to him for now, as was my pack, fleece and battle saddle (Thank the Goddesses!).  He also located a few healing potions, just enough to get everyone stabilised. Brimstone himself took one for his chest wound, stamping the ground as his strength returned.

    “Not if.  When.  I'm going to crush that little upstart.”

The name earned him an odd glance from Protégé.  Somehow, I felt he had chosen it on purpose to wind up the slaver.  But they nodded to one another, knowing that at least the two of them would go this extra mile.

    No, not alone.

We both knew we had to.  Slipping my fleece, weapon, and saddlebag back on, I joined Glimmerlight as we trotted forward as well.  The unicorn was retrieving her rifle and some scavenged ammunition. A green magic energy pistol lying on the ground was added to her hoof holster in replacement of the sidearm she'd carried in and lost.

Barb had done too much, hurt too many. I wasn't any good in a fight, but I wasn't going to abandon my friends.  If the most I did was simply listen for anypony flanking or distract them a little, it would be enough.

    The slaves still trapped deserved it be done.

    Caduceus deserved it to be finished for all he had given.

Together, the four of us galloped out and toward the end of the plaza.  Behind us, I saw Coral Eve watching once more, before turning back to start helping the slaves fortify their position and wait for healers.

The griffons had been stalled.  The dead end was a perfect defensive point from the main plaza, all the way at the back of the slave area.  Raiders had left dozens of barricades across it, strewing the way in with sharpened metal shapes on the floor to prevent wild assault charges.  It was no obstacle to griffons, but if they took to the air, they also lost all their cover and became bigger targets with extended wings. We found them ducked behind pillars and higher balconies, fighting on all levels in a vertical battle to push forward.

    The raiders clearly had stockpiled the ammo they had stolen, most of it being down there.  One large tripod gun (why had that been in the guardroom to be stolen?) had been set up and surrounded by thick plates to lay misery upon any who strayed into the middle.  Its heavy death-rattle coincided with solid flooring and pillars being torn up and decimated. I could see two or three griffons lying mangled upon the floor, their armour buckled and shredded. One was being pulled back in, after a couple of Talons courageously rushed out and grabbed their wounded ‘sister’.

    We approached up the side, Protégé taking in their tactics at a glance.

“The griffons will be readying up a firestorm of heavy rounds to batter through those barricades, explosives, and everything.  It'll kill every hostage and raider without care! Likely the heavy weapons are being brought up as we speak. We don't have much time.”

    The unicorn looked around, before settling on one of the shop cells on the side.

    “In there!”

We followed his orders, respect as much as rank.  The shop cell was dank, stinking of waste and filled with muddy looking mattresses.  Suddenly I was very glad for the couch we had.

    “The wall in here is cracked, probably weak.”

    Protégé tapped the wall closest to the direction of the raiders, looking up and down it.

“How do you know that in such detail?  There's a hundred cells in here.” Glimmerlight asked as we moved in.  Indeed, it was cracked, just as he had said.

    Protégé just turned, glancing at the mattresses with an oddly familiar gaze.

“Two years is a long time to remember every detail. Now, if we can get some explosives or some large metal object to wedge in we could—”

    “COMING THROUGH!”

    We dived aside, landing on the musty beds as Brimstone clattered past, charging the wall at full pelt.  It didn't even slightly stop him. Only one cinderblock thick, and coated in the cracked plaster, the wall simply disappeared in a big, Brim-shaped, hole.

    “...that works too.” Protégé seemed a little bewildered, his elaborate plan suddenly becoming a little pointless.

“Don't worry, he does that a lot. You should see him and terminals.” Glimmerlight winked to the unicorn as she cantered after Brim.  I followed with a rather perplexed Protégé in tow.

    Rarity's Grace felt snug at my side.  With great effort, I'd reloaded it on the way, springing the top of the shielded three-shot drum open to carefully hoof the small rounds in.  Flicking my front left hoof, the mouthpiece sprang out and around to the right position. The rooms beyond the shop cell were not open to the plaza, perhaps the back of another storage area that merely shared the same walls.  Large crates and small cubicle offices passed us on all sides on the final run to find a way in behind the raider position.

Eventually, we found a doorway made of thick steel and heavily locked.  Brimstone hammered on it, bucking with brass hooves and all. At most, it dented slightly.  But by the side lay a terminal. Glimmerlight leapt to work, tip-tapping away madly. While she worked, Protégé turned back to us.

“Right. Barb will be in there somewhere.  The sooner we kill him, the sooner this battle is over.  I know we all want a shot at him, but remember those slaves need somepony to protect them.”

    He dumped a small sack he'd been carrying. It had a dozen looted weapons from the restaurant.

“We get these to the slaves and do what we can to protect them while we get Barb, whoever spots and gets to him first.  But no agendas. Who gets the chance takes it, but the slaves need protecting.  Understood?”

The door clicked, the locks retracted.  Glimmerlight spun off of it, leaning on her hind legs against the terminal.  You'd never have thought she had just been through what we had been. I was still shaking at the mere thought of any gun right now. I didn't want to see one up close for a long, long time.

    “Gotcha.  Now, we doin' this?”

    Pausing for only a second, almost seeming to regard himself for a second, looking at his own cutie mark, Protégé nodded.

    “We are.” He approached the door, took a breath...

    ...and went for it.

Piling through the doorway, we emerged behind the raiders.  The door had been a staff entrance, exiting directly onto the plaza itself.  The raiders were but ten feet away to our right, nestled at the very back of the plaza.  Our first shots took a good half dozen off their feet. Or rather, Glimmer and Protégé's shots.  Brimstone leapt immediately into them from from the rear, charging from barricade to barricade.

But I hung back, watching and waiting from the shadows.  After a second, I realised I wasn't alone. Where we'd emerged couldn't have been luckier. The slaves were right here!  Just off to the other side of the door I saw the vast majority of them cowering under gunfire. Some had been hit bad.  

I galloped up to them, dragging Protégé's bag while hoping against hope my three friends could hold off the raiders.  I began tossing out pistols and sawn off shotguns to the ponies willing to take them. The injured I pointed to the doorway.  Many of them were terrified, but they obeyed my hurried pointing and shoouting, too afraid and hurt to argue. I couldn't blame them. Without the others, I'd have been among them.

    They were all that gave me the courage to go on.

Behind me, Brimstone's warcry echoed amongst the plaza.  He dove over the last barricade, charging directly for one pony.

    Barb.

Amongst the confusion, the raiders' position had shattered.  Those on the balconies above were still holding the griffons back, and I could see more slaves being held around the barricades as cover. We'd gotten a large amount of them here, but Barb had to go down. It would be a massacre of innocents if not.  The raiders on this level were too busy keeping the griffons at check to bring every gun to bear back on our flank attack, so Brimstone had a clear shot at their chieftain.  The thin unicorn had been guiding them from the front, but upon seeing the rival raider rush him, drew a knife and leapt forward. He must have had healing too. The revolver wound had disappeared.

Tearing across their lines, Brimstone reared, swinging the chained blade upon his brass hoof to whip out.  His opponent leapt, but had to duck from a griffon bullet whipping overhead. Feeling my hopes leap, Brimstone's chain snapped around Barb and slammed the side of the blade into his neck.  I saw him yanked toward Brimstone with enough force I thought his spine would just snap! Half way into the air, Barb seemed to glide out of the chains with unnatural grace, sliding through the strong shadows and dust of battle to instead leap, knives bared, at my friend.

This was a whole new kind of fight.  I'd seen Brim take on brute strength, but here I saw a clash between vastly differing raiders.  Under the harsh light and strong shadows, Brimstone fought an enemy who was elusive and wily. His massive hooves swung fast and strong, but only ever seemed to catch Barb's faded edges as his shadow spells took effect.  In return, the brass hooves deflected wicked knife strikes that launched from behind or the sides. It was taking all of Brimstone's experience and often forgotten intelligence to predict and react to Barb's sneak attacks.  Clearly, Brimstone had long kept combating this menace in mind as the target for any leadership challenge.

    But while he fought, Glimmerlight and Protégé were being pinned down.  Protégé waved over to me.

    “Murk!  We need those grenades you've got!  Try to get to me!”

The slaves behind me seemed to be able to hold their position, ranking way lower than the griffons for the attention of the raiders remaining on this level.  I began trying to sneak as best I could, sticking to behind barricades and scooting along the back wall. Protégé wasn't far, but griffon anti-machine fire was slapping across this same area above my head.  Eventually, rolling painfully across my wings, I came to be beside the unicorn. Digging in my saddlebag, I found the two apple shaped grenades we could—

    The moment I even reached for them, Glimmer screamed.

    “INCOMING! DOWN! GET DOWN!”

We hit the deck hard, the eerie whistle of a rocket tearing down the plaza.  I saw it whip between Barb and Brimstone, separating them with the concussive blast that knocked both of them back and took out the heavy machine gun position.  Shrapnel flew everywhere, savagely laying low both raiders and slaves.

Everyone, slave, slaver and raider, staggered to their hooves again. In the wide plaza, I saw various groups stare at one another, grabbing their weapons again, trying to find cover amongst the battlefield.

“Bloodletters!  Shades! To me and kill the traitor!” Barb's voice hissed through the air, calling a dozen ponies from the shadows that flowed across the battleground, his elite core of the warband that now assailed Brimstone.  Whirling the chains around his hooves, he took them head on, their melee half obscured at the far side of the plaza. Glimmerlight was pushed back, hiding behind a pillar at the side and trying to shove more clips into her rifle while snapping off flaring green shots with the pistol to keep the raiders not going at the griffons away from her.

    Ahead of Protégé and I, Barb began galloping for the stairwell. He was getting away!

    “Come on, Murk!  We have to end this now!  Too many ponies are dying from that assault.  He needs to go down right now!”

With me tagging behind, we galloped across the plaza, dodging fire that kicked up concrete below our hooves.  Protégé shot down two raiders trying to block our path, while I slid underneath a fallen pillar to dodge one that aimed to chase me.  He couldn't follow through such a space. The moment he went over, a griffon’s shot took his head off. Part of me wanted to be sickened. So much blood and death would normally horrify me, but the stakes were too high, the violence too constant.  If I stopped to worry, I'd be dead.

Barb turned, seeing Protégé and I gunning for him.  The chieftain snarled, heading upstairs again the moment we reached the bottom of stairwell.  Fear gripped me of following this deathly raider, but there was no turning back now. I'd just listen for him and let Protégé know. He could take Barb, right?

    I hoped so.

The stairway led up much further than the one higher level I had expected. What was this?  Some sort of maintenance staircase? The sound of the battle below, so painful to my hypersensitive ears, was beginning to dull the higher we went.  The echoes of it beginning to become audible alongside the ongoing crashes of thunder. But even more worrying, the higher we went, the darker things got.

    Finally, we emerged into a room.  Barb was nowhere to be seen.

The entire room was in darkness.  No lights were active here. Terror shot through me. This was Barb's ideal area. Looking like some sort of old ventilation room, large banks of machinery made the entire place a criss cross of hiding places.  Normally I would have feel right at home and able to hide here, but now every shadow felt threatening. Even the small war below had become a distant thumping in this isolated and contained place.

“Come out, Barb!  It's all over now!” Protégé shouted into the darkness, his revolver training around, watching piles of work tools, boxes of sand for spills, mops, small crates of wires, and a thousand other small hiding places while we trotted further in.  Above us, the roof seemed to clatter with the wind beating at the building. We must have been right below the rooftop itself.

    Slowly, a deliberate and dragging laugh emanated from the darkness.
   
“Ha...ha...ha...over?  I believe differently, 'master.' You really think I couldn't just slip out of here?  Start anew? Fillydelphia isn't a cage to me. The moment you two are dry on the floor, then I'll make my way from here.  They won't even know I'm gone.”

    The voice came from everywhere.  His magic was throwing the voice, no doubt.  Protégé swung the revolver on every side, peering as best he could to see into the dark.

“You're in my world now. Not even your precious little E.F.S to help you hunt me down.  You won't leave this room alive. Dear filly? Take a seat. Watch the master of shadows at work.”

A thud came from behind us. Protégé spun, firing a shot.  The flare of the gun lit the entire room for a fraction of a second, showing nothing more than a crate that had tipped being blown to splinters.  The laughter came again.

    “So we’re playing again then, hm? One shot down, five to go.”

The door we had come through slammed shut, locking hard.  Sticking side to side and facing opposite directions, I strove to let my eyesight work in here; but even with a vague idea of where we were, Barb was utterly impossible to locate.  Small sounds came from every side, confusing us, misleading us.

    Within the sounds I heard that of something hissing, spinning in the air.

“Knife!” I screamed, more of fear than warning; dropping and dodging frantically.  Protégé dove to the side, rolling back to his hooves as the thin blade pinged off the large fan assembly we'd passed.  Aiming quickly, two heavy shots battered into the darkness, the flares revealing a dark shadow flickering over the top of a conditioning unit and flowing away.  He'd missed by miles.

    “Oooohohoho...getting panicky now, are we?  Two hasty shots? I thought you were Red Eye's apprentice, boy!  Trained by the pony who created a superpower with nothing but charisma and smarts!  I must say I'm disappointed.”

Pausing on the spot, Protégé seemed to dial down any anger, before his horn lit up more than the usual telekinesis.  A red aura sprang around us, lighting the area within twenty or so feet. I could see the reason. It gave us something, but Barb no doubt could have seen us anyway no matter how dark it was.  I drew my PipBuck from my back, strapping it to my now healed leg and activating the light too. My vision began to settle, now that I had something to work as ambient light. But shadows danced in the room. Everywhere I looked, I saw small bits of movement.  Circling around in our lonely island of light, we stuck together against the darkness that threatened to bring us low.

Then Protégé took the initiative.  His magic grabbed two boxes of wires, the ease he had with multi-tasking sending bunches of them hurtling into the darkness at any slight sounds we heard.  Then the crates went flying, and the tools; anything to try and gauge an impact.

    Beep!

    I glanced down at my PipBuck. Now!?  Really!?  

Another hissing sound, another knife.  I heard Protégé grunt in pain as it skiffed him, drawing blood along his side before clattering into the floor.  Not wanting to lose any momentum, he charged forward, trusting me to follow without distracting words. I dialled down the PipBuck volume.  Oh Sundial, not now.

    But I could still hear it.

    Beep!

    Click...

    “I...hi...geez...oh Luna, sorry. Exhausted, want to get this before sleep.”

    “Watch out, Murk!”

The warning came for a huge string of wires across the floor. We jumped over them, trying to chase him down and catch him in our aura of light around the maintenance room.  Charging from corner to corner, I tried to keep up with the taller unicorn.

    “Those zebras, they came back!  They asked me again about the plans, about how I could make money, I don't know who I should tell or what I should do!  They just appeared from nowhere in the dark alleyway with those cloaks! Hidden in the darkness.”

Barb had been silent for a while now, the waiting was only making things worse.  Our lights weren't strong enough to properly cast across the room, he could be simply following us.

    I spun, expecting to see a knife, but there was nothing.

    “Getting to you, filly?”

    “They scare me so much, just not knowing when they'll pop out of hiding.  No wonder the Ministry of Morale's been so active. I tried to run from them, but they followed me, cornered me, asked the question again.  To give up plans. What if their offer turns nasty? It was so scary, seeing the snow landing on something that isn't there and form a shape.”

    Wait...

    “Protégé!”

My master spun around. I quickly flicked my eyes to the boxes of sand.  Nodding briefly back to me, Protégé began backing us toward the boxes. He let out another shot into the darkness, lighting up a darting shape atop the machinery.  Then he was gone again.

“Oh, come now, really?  I thought you'd realised how pointless that was to waste a bullet?  Well well...are you even sure that was me?”

We waited.  Closing my eyes, I concentrated everything I could on my hearing. Sight was no use here. I crouched to the ground, trying to ignore the danger, ignore the fact my friends were fighting for their lives below me.

    “But they're offering so much...it's tempting.  But I saw a spritebot floating around my apartment a few times today. Are the Ministry onto me?  Watching to see if I would slip up? I just need a sleep, but Sky needs something to help her live if this all goes bad!  I feel paranoid, like any small sound at night makes me wake up and lock myself in the bathroom. Any small sound.”

    I heard the slide of a knife from a pocket.

    “Now!”

Protégé's horn flared, launching the boxes of sand into the air and spinning wildly.  The sand erupted into the air, coating everything, including us. But I heard a splutter amongst the darkness and immediately pointed my hoof.  Two shots from Protégé's revolver rang out at the direction. Each flare revealed a freeze-frame of Barb charging us, dodging around the bullets.  A knife flashed between us, both of us dodging to either side.

    “The zebras are watching, I just know it!  They knew who I was. What if they kill me?”

    “A child's trick with sand?  Oh my, but you've used up all your bullets my dear Protégé!  Time for this to end!”

Rolling away, I turned to see Barb within our sphere of light, slashing and stabbing at Protégé.  The unicorn was backing off furiously, throwing everything he could at the raider while he struggled to reload individual bullets.  Box after bucket after tool kept Barb just out of knife range. After three bullets loaded he aimed, taking another shot that Barb ducked around a workbench to avoid. I tried to see if he came out the other side, but by the time we rushed him, he was gone. The sand wasn't staying on him. It had only bought us that one shot!

    “They might get somepony else as their helper, if I only give them non-critical bits. I don't think I have a choice anymore.  It's like they're always behind me. Just waiting...”

    “Behind you!”

I saw Barb launch off the workbench and into our aura of light, two knives in his magic.  A telekinetic duel began of sorts, as Protégé struggled to keep those knives away from him.  I watched in horror as the pony I felt like I was only now beginning to understand fought for his life with the raider.  The revolver fired, with Barb's own magic knocking the aim of, much the same as Protégé’s telekinesis was grasping and wrestling with the knives.  

Changing the stakes, Barb launched forward, going physical on Protégé as the two tussled, fighting both hoof to hoof and magic to magic, and Protégé was clearly losing.  Barb was impossible to keep a grip of, sliding and slithering in ways no pony should be able to move, or letting Protégé's attempts to grapple him down slide off that sickeningly damp skin-armour.  Already, my master had a half dozen knife slashes from near misses.

    “All I know is, I need to make a decision.  Take action.”

    I bit down on the mouthpiece, aiming Rarity's Grace.  My one shot went wild, but the distraction made Barb break off and away.  A knife hurtled toward me, making me scream and fall from the hissing metal passing so close overhead. I heard it embed into sheet metal beside my head. How many did he have?

But the distraction cost him dear.  Unable to fight him head on, Protégé's magic changed purpose.  Ripping the eyepiece from Barb's face, he aimed the revolver. Caught in front of the barrel, Barb threw himself Protégé, and dropped back into the shadows at a moment's notice.

    Only now, Protégé had his E.F.S.

The revolver and it's single shot tracked him, following the raider all around.  I fell back again, the ferocity of their brutal duel becoming far too much for me.  They weren't speaking, taunting, or boasting now. This was a fight. A life or death event that both of them had to win.  Protégé sent spanners and hammers hurling after Barb, tracking him on the eyepiece. He ducked and dove, crying out as another knife sliced through his ear, almost taking it entirely off.  Blood stained the side of his head. He staggered back, wincing and muttering in pain, the revolver drooping...no!

    “But first, sleep, so tired. Goodnight...”

    Click.

    Barb launched from the shadows, almost stretching out amongst them as the knife descended.

    Protégé was bluffing.

The wires spun up, his strong multi-tasking telekinetic skills sending dozen of them whipping around Barb on all sides.  Wrapping up the raider, they tangled him roughly, before a box of heavy sand smashed against his head. Barb landed heavily on his back, face bleeding from the impact.  The knives all dropped, falling as his spell broke, bringing his full body into sharp relief. Spinning, Protégé brought the last round he had on him to bear, pointing directly at his head.  Barb glanced up, sudden immediate fear in his eyes.

    The look on Protégé's face was stern, authoritative and confident.  I'd only seen such a look on one pony before.

    Red Eye.

    “This is for Caduceus and everypony else you murdered.”

    Barb's hooves came up, but it was too late.  Protégé's revolver blew his head clean apart...

    ...into a dark mist, as the rest of his body faded.

    I gasped. I'd seen this!

    “PROTÉGÉ, BEHIND YOU!”

Looking up in shock, he tried to spin, but the shadowed knife slammed home into his shoulder, diagonally lancing to pierce right through and out from his chest.  Barb had dropped onto his back from above, before twisting it horribly and drawing a loud scream of pain from the unicorn.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Barb whispered into his ear, another sick twist only giving another drawn out cry from his prey.  I felt rooted to the spot, my mouth gaping.

They fell to the ground, the knife ripping free. leaving Barb straddled over the prone slave master.  It was a wickedly black dagger, seeming to drift with shadows on the blade. Protégé fell limp with Barb on his back.  The raider's magic grabbed Protégé's mane, yanking his head back to expose his neck, keeping Protégé head between him and I as cover.  The blood soaked blade curled around it and began to pull slowly. I even saw the blood began to dribble forth to mix with the copious bleeding of his shoulder. He was slitting his neck wide open!

    “Born slave to loyal slaver. Never truly your own pony, pathetic!  Now...bye-bye!”

I saw him tense to pull Protégé's head right back, to rip the cut throat apart.  

Without even really knowing what I was doing, I charged forward, galloping with all the force I could gather and hurling myself at Barb with a loud cry.  Even my weight was enough, slamming the raider off of Protégé and beating at him with my hooves with every pent up feeling of frustration and anger I had at him for involving himself in my life!

The shadowblade flew away into the darkness.  Rolling one over the other, I was picked up and hurled into the metal machinery like a rag doll.  Trying to stand, I flipped the mouthpiece out again, the shot firing upward as his magic yanked Rarity’s Grace away from aiming at him. Spinning around it, Barb bucked me again, knocking me another seven feet away with a crunching, sharp impact to my breast.

“Now what do we have here?  The little filly got some spine, eh?  Thought he could take on a raider chieftain at his own game before he got his kill?  Gotta hand it to you, kid, didn't expect it.”

He darted forward, blinking through my vision and appearing before me, his front hoof smashing me across the jawline.  Falling to the side, I spat blood, my gums burst. But he wasn't done, his magic lifted me up to telekinetically throw me even further.  Clattering off the ground, I felt my ribs jar and the wind crushed out of me on impact. Unable to even scream, I simply rolled over, moaning loudly as I clutched at myself.

    “But he's dead one way or the other. Why, just take a look!”

Drawing my head up, he forced my glance back to Protégé, where I felt my eyes widen in horror.  He was jittering on the ground, trying to hold his neck shut; bleeding out, unable to move at all.

    “No. It's just you and I, filly.  You...and I...”

I lashed out in desperation, my hoof trying to catch him by surprise.  No such luck. I felt my hoof battered away, before I was thrown through a doorway.

    Suddenly, light and sound.

    The battle below us raged.  A sense of vertigo overtook me as I realised what I'd been thrown onto.

The platform above the plaza I had seen, that skeletal frame that hung below the skylight.  This had all led upward to it, above the long drop. The bottom was nothing but hard mesh to trot on, no solid floor at all.  I could see right down. Struggling to stand, my body aching, I found myself crying in sheer terror. I couldn't win!

I screamed even more as I felt the terrible sensation of a knife slit across my back.  Crawling away, I felt another slice, and dared to look back. But I yelled, feeling my back sear in pain.  They weren't deep. He was taunting me, torturing me. My hooves scrambled, trying to crawl across the platform, away from him.

“You know, filly.  You and I are pretty alike. Small amongst our peers. I couldn’t do what they did, had to get my own way. But with you, oh, it all changes...”

I was kicked again, flung farther out onto the platform.  The entire thing swung on its cords, wavering beneath the thunderstorm above.  Rain lashed at us through the skylight, wind almost threatening to blow me off the edge.  His long mane was whipping around as he strode toward me. Lit by a flare of lightning, that grin turned demonic, and those eyes predatory. Water dripped all around him from the storm around us.

I tried to turn, to shoot out the glass above his head and drop it all on him, but my mouthpiece was broken.  That grin widened. He sensed easy blood.

    “See, with you, I don't need all that.  I can, for once, enjoy a little physical superiority!  You can't hide or sneak better than I can, your peer. So it's all useless to you!  No, all you can do is lie there and cry while I do all the things I never could to anypony else!”

The thunder clashed above us, the skylight's remaining fixtures shaking and making the entire platform unsteady.  Seeing my blood on the ground behind me, I just tried to stay away from that knife. But his magic could reach me, flipping me over onto my front.

    “Don't think I don't know your fears, filly.  The terrors you hold from one of my crew.”

    I felt the tip of a blade draw across my back, before resting above my shoulder and beginning to press.

    “No...please!”

    He licked his lips.

    “Welcome back to hell.”

    The piercing pain shot through me and pinned me to the ground, feeling a foot long blade punch through my body.  The same shoulder.

    Against the thundercrash above, almost lost in the sound, I screamed.

Kneeling down beside me, he pushed my head against the grated bottom of the platform, making me see the battle below through tear-stained eyes and a throat struggling to be able to scream as much as I wanted for help.

    “You need your allies. Without them you're nothing, filly. Nothing!  You think they're gonna save you now?  Poor master's bleeding out. The mare and the traitor are still down there, see them?”

I could. They didn't even see me. They were just fighting for their lives, unable to move from bad cover for fear of the griffons hitting them.  The slaves were backed into a corner, desperately struggling to survive from both raiders and griffon incoming fire.

    “No, for once you're all alone and there's nothing you can do, filly!  Nothing but scream and cry while you watch your friends die!”

My body was faltering from the stab wound.  Barb withdrew the knife, making me cry out and curl up.

    Everything seemed slow, the wind becoming lethargic and lazy, the gunshots taking longer.

    “Only by sticking together can we truly save lives. Do not be afraid to fight if in defence of a better world. You will find your courage, Murky.”

Those voices in my memory, in my mind. They were what had inspired me to come here.  To do all this, to this absolute end of all effort. To finish this and save lives, to help everypony make something better!

    Just...just you watch, all of you. I'll fail, but I won't destroy everything you've given me!

It hurt. It hurt so badly, but remembering the faces of everypony who had been hurt more to get here, I began to push myself up, facing Barb.  I had two grenades left. I began trying to dig for them, watching him, and—

    His hoof caught me across the face.

“Applause for effort, filly!  But you're outmatched here! I'm stronger, faster, smarter, bigger, and stealthier than you'll ever be!”

    His other hoof slapped me again the other way. Dizzied, feeling a stinging after every slap, I staggered back again toward the edge.

    “Every plan, every idea, every trick I've seen before!  You're nothing but the little pony nopony actually believes will do anything in the end!  You wanted to escape?  You!? You'll never get out of here, kid!”

Pulling myself together, my body protesting, I readied up.  My shoulder and front leg were useless. But one last effort...I just had to try!  

Screaming, I charged him head on again, wrestling with the raider atop the platform, trying to hit him with my PipBuck like a club.  He threw me everywhere, his knife drawing blood from slits and cuts. His hooves battered my face until I was swinging and missing entirely, but I pushed into him, hooves grabbing his disgusting clothing to tug and pull at his pockets, before he simply threw me off him.  

Gravity disappeared. My hoof jarred as it caught around a pole at the edge, the rest of my body being flung over the edge of platform to now hang above the drop.  The entire platform shuddered, leaning down to drop my weight. Panicking, I pedalled my hindlegs in the open air, feeling the sense of a long drop beneath me. From above, the rain was cascading down even harder across us, the stinging making my hoof go weak.  I tried to grab with my other one, but all the efforts had made the stab wound become much worse, I couldn't move it at all.

    “Guess this is it, filly.  You've been fun! But I told you.  Nothing you can do, not one thing you can pull out on me that I don't know better.”

Struggling, trying to keep attached, I propped my head back on the platform.  Leaning up, I fixed him with a look before I spat out blood...

    ...along with two grenade pins.

    “E-every trick?  Ever heard of the reverse pickpocket?”

If I weren't bleeding to death and hanging off such a ledge, the look on his face would have been satisfying.  The raider stepped back, as though wondering if I were joking before frantically beginning to search his many pockets and hidden sections of clothing, realising the mistake he'd made; falling into the pride and rush of being a physically stronger pony.

    “You...no, you couldn't have!  A reverse— NO! Not you!  Damn you!  DAMN YOU!”

My leg gave way. I couldn't hold on any longer.  Feeling darkness creep over me, I saw the horrified look on Barb's face move farther and farther away as he felt the two bumps in his clothing even while I fell.

    “NO!  Not to a...stupid...fucking....filly!  IT WON'T HELP! YOU'RE STUCK HERE!  YOU'LL NEVER GET OU—”

The sharp crack and echoing boom rocked through the air, the blinding flash atop the platform throwing the broken and shredded form of Barb off the opposite side from myself.  The concussive blast slapped across me. Then, seconds later, after everypony below looked skyward, the second explosion of the other grenade blasted the remains into ashes within the sight of his entire clan.

Barb was gone, and I simply fell to my death.  A strange calm overtook me as I fell through the rain from on high. Only unlike before, this wasn’t from resignation. It was satisfaction. It was a sense of worth. I had...I had done something.

If that had to be—

Then I hit something, not the ground, but a heavy fabric.  A vast pink face enveloped me, slowing my descend as my light weight was caught in the billowing banner that had blown out horizontally to catch me.  But even so, I rolled down it, tumbling, grasping, spinning speeding up again for the last single storey yet to fall. I closed my eyes, the impact eventually coming amongst a rush of colour and wind in my ears.

    Everything went out.

    A warm light.  That inner glow from before. It fell around me, fell across my broken and tired body.  Slowly, I was lifted up. Helped to my hooves once again.

A...a pony!  It was a pony!  It turned that shimmering head with mine, ahead of us lying the Wall, as grand and imposing as ever.

    Slowly, I felt a hoof clutch mine, as we began moving toward it, bolstered, braver, reminded of our potential...

    “Together...”

    Other words, another four drifting words that seemed so far...far...away...

I couldn't hear them. There was too much noise, too many other words, not beautiful...not as wondrous...they were foul...they were crude...they were-

“—before I push it there myself!  Come on you fucking bunghole pipe experiment!  There's too many casualties for you to sit around dicktickling some buck with a sprained leg all day!”

    My eyes wouldn't see anything but vague blurs, but I was lying on cold ground.  The rotten shape of a ghoul over me. Weathervane...

“—and while you're there get me some Celestia-damned Med-X!  I don't give two fucks if the guard says it isn't for slaves!” A pause. “No I don't give a single fuck either!  BLOODY MOVE! I can't move him till we know if his back's gone or not!”

Then the yellowed face turned back to me, seeing my hazed eyes drifting open.  He gained in clarity as I slowly began to realise I was still alive. But I couldn't move. My shoulder was a mess of twisted pain, the feeling making me want to shiver.

“Fuck the eighteen generations of your ancestors, kid, you're lucky to be alive.” Weathervane began re-strapping a thick wad of bandage around my shoulder, being careful to keep my back from moving.  Behind him I could see dozens of healers galloping around the Mall's plaza floor, tending to so many ponies.

    “I had to, the...the grenade...”

    “Lucky about the grenade?  Fuck the grenade, kid!  You landed on Stern!  Just hope she doesn't want compensation for the piece of armour you dented on your fall.  Leastways she broke your impact a little. Better than can be said for some of the slaves those bastards got their hooves on.”

    My mind raced, sudden panic fighting through.  Apparently, my back worked just fine, as I launched up, grabbing the ghoul.

    “Protégé!  Is he...”

Doctor Weathervane pressed me firmly back down, as the pain only then hit me from my sudden movement.  Nearby, I saw ponies being wheeled out to the hospital, Glimmerlight, Coral...they both watched me as they passed, Glimmer offering a thin smile, clutching a bullet wound.  But I could only await the answer.

    “We found him upstairs...”

    Oh no.

    “...living, but in critical condition.  He's lost a lot of blood.”

    “But you can help him!  Potions and spells and—”

“Normally, yes.  But we're not sure what Barb did to that blade because those wounds just aren't healing no matter how many potions we throw into him.  We've got doctors keeping him alive by the thinnest of threads right now but, well, it's not looking good. Even at the most optimistic, he's out of the game for a while.”

Behind him, I saw one more stretcher pass out, surrounded by crowding healers, all of their horns flaring.  I caught a few glances of a black coat. Please Celestia, please Luna, bring him through this arduous time and give him the strength to live.

    Weathervane glanced at them, before sighing.

“They say Red Eye's personal physician will take to him. They don't like 'outsiders' like me working on Red Eye's little prodigy there.  Despite the fact I'm more from this city than any of those fuckers, Fillydelphia's my fucking home.  Now, we're getting you to Hearts and Hooves, Murk. You've got a pass.  Before he went under, Protégé muttered something about getting you all the care you needed.  We'll see that happens.”

It was over.  The Mall was devastated, ruined, destroyed.  Blood ran everywhere. Balconies had collapsed and there was enough battle damage to render it useless for a little while.  But I could see the slaves cowering at the side. We'd saved them. Even now, healers moved among them, tending to them in their hour of need.

    I'd known one who had done so before then. Even as I watched, for a second I thought I witnessed a blonde mane looking up quickly, smiling as he helped other ponies.  Then he was gone, just another face to the memories.

    The first chance I got, I was going to draw him. He deserved it.

I was wheeled out soon after, doped up on Med-X and lifted upon the stretchers as they returned for more.  Weathervane returned with me, staying silent en-route. But as we left the Mall, I looked back into the war-torn destruction left behind and saw one pony standing among it.

    The Master.

He looked up and around, casting his eyes over the Mall, over every cell and barrier with keen eyes, like somepony viewing a new home for the first time...

...and smiled.

    Footnote: Perk Attained!

Sleight of Hoof (Rank 2!) – Giving and taking, it's all the same to you now.  That little bit of damning evidence or unfortunate item may now mysteriously end up in your enemy's possession without them even realising.  Reverse pickpocketing is now significantly easier to achieve with heavier objects!