//------------------------------//
// Chapter 18: Orthros 
// Story: Fallout: Equestria - Common Ground 
// by FireOfTheNorth 
//------------------------------//


Chapter Eighteen: Orthros


Resume Normal Function

Awakening from my unintended slumber, my eyes cracked open, and I took in my surroundings.  I should have been dead, but I wasn’t.  Either that, or heaven was quite underwhelming. I was grateful at least that I hadn’t woken up as I had many times before after losing consciousness: staring up at cold lights from a hospital bed.  I was in a real bed and lying on my side instead of my back.  The room I was in may have been sparsely accommodated, but it definitely wasn’t a hospital ward.  In addition to the bed in the corner of the room, there was a wardrobe, a sink and mirror, and a set of shelves holding my PipBeak, weapons, and saddlebags.  A private room in a Lockbox, perhaps?  

I pushed aside the covers and climbed out of bed to stand on my own four hooves.  

Wait a minute … four hooves?  

I looked down with apprehension to see, below a hospital gown, that the foreleg I’d lost when I’d arrived in the Griffin Commonwealth had miraculously returned.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, but moving it around and flexing it made it seem real enough.  Just what was going on here?  The Dogs of War had inflicted multiple wounds on me that should have been fatal, but not only was my spine intact, my horn restored (I checked by touching it and levitating my hospital gown away), and my right foreleg unbroken, I’d also regrown a limb.  

I hurried over to the mirror to see what had become of me (and confirm I was still truly me, and not just in a memory orb), but the mirror turned out to be nothing more than an opaque panel.  I felt strangely naked without my Stable jumpsuit and doctor’s coat.  Before leaving my room to search for another means of examining myself, I made my way over to the wardrobe to see if they too had been restored and were waiting for me.  Unfortunately, not even a scrap of them was present, but there were other outfits. I pulled on a set of oddly flexible combat armor and an overcoat.  Strangely, both had holes in them for wings, and I was astonished to find that a set of dragonfly-like mechanical wings sprouted from my back and fit neatly through the holes.  I don’t know how I’d managed to miss them on my earlier examination of my body, but it left me rather shaken.  I gathered up my saddlebags, tucking the PipBeak within, and my weapons before leaving the room.  

The door slid into the ceiling automatically as I approached, and I trotted into a living area with a couch and low table, a kitchenette, and a door that led to a small bathroom.  I proceeded through the room cautiously, but nothing seemed to pose a threat, and I made it to the last remaining door without incident.  Pressing the button alongside the door made it slide upward easily, so it seemed I was no prisoner, but in the hallway immediately outside was a robot that made me reconsider.  It stood blocking my way, though “stood” was perhaps the wrong word; it had no legs, only a single wide wheel upon which it balanced.  From that wheel, the robot widened gradually to two broad shoulders, from which hung arms ending in grasping claws.  The torso resembled nothing so much as a minotaur, and below the screen placed between the shoulder pads the name Securitaur was embossed in a fancy, flowing font.  Strangely, the company logo was not the familiar RoBronco one seen on nearly every Equestrian automaton, but the unfamiliar FFICAARD.  Upon the screen was an illustrated image of a minotaur’s face, grinning so broadly as to nearly be grimacing.  

“Good morning,” the securitaur said in a deep, booming, and strangely calming voice.  “It is currently Ten-Thirty-Nine AM on the Twenty-Second of Dusk, Fifteen Ten, by the Equestrian Calendar.  Are you feeling refreshed?  If you need to take nourishment before continuing, the refrigerator in your room is stocked with a selection of Equestrian foodstuffs, as well as plants cultivated in our internal gardens safe from megaspell contamination.”  

Nearly five days had passed since I’d been attacked by the Dogs of War near RoBronco Site Rose, according to this robot.  If I’d been able to wear my PipBeak, would it say the same?  I didn’t trust this thing, especially since it seemed to be my jailor. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” I replied warily.  

“Excellent, I’m sure you have many questions—”  

“Yeah, like ‘where am I?’ and ‘who are you?’ and ‘why has my leg grown back?’,” I said.  

“Please, hold all your questions for Orthros,” the securitaur said after I’d finished.  “I will take you to them now.”  

“Lead on,” I motioned, for the robot was still blocking the way out of the room with its bulk.  

The securitaur rolled backwards before pivoting and rolling down the hallway to the left.  I stepped out of the room and halted, before warily following the securitaur once it stopped to wait for me.  I kept my pace leisurely so that I could take in my surroundings. The walls were gray and utilitarian, much like in a Stable, though with lower lighting.  There were other doors along this hallway identical to the one I’d come through, each with an intercom next to them.  The nameplates over the intercoms were all scratched out, but many of them seemed to start with “Dr.”  

The securitaur led me to an elevator, and we descended several floors before emerging into larger hallways.  Things were somewhat less utilitarian here (the walls were painted, for one) and every so often we passed an open doorway that led to a meeting room or break room. Multiple times, I saw the dog-like robots lope by that I’d briefly glimpsed while I was dying. Unlike Dogs of War, these were of a more normal size, at least as far as I could tell from faded Wartime posters that featured both them and ponies; and, strangely, each of them had two heads side-by-side, which I was pretty sure wasn’t normal.  Perhaps it was like the brahmin.  But, that would require them to have been built after the War, and I hadn’t seen any brahmin in the Commonwealth.  

After a long walk, during which the hallway had angled downward for a distance, we emerged into a large, cavernous, circular room.  Blinking lights and buzzing terminals covered the wall, many sections dark. Noise from above drew my eyes upward to the machinery hanging from the center of the ceiling.  Cables were strung about the central arm that pivoted around the enclosed chassis at the bottom.  From that chassis extended two mechanical dog heads, each nearly the size of a pony.  One had a long snout and pointed ears, while the other had a blunt snout and ears that hung down.  The heads were entirely static, with no moving parts, not even the mouths, and two screens displaying eyes that clearly belonged to ponies, not dogs, were placed in the massive robot’s eye sockets.  

“Are you … Orthros?” I asked hesitantly as the heads swung down to face me.  

“Indeed, my lucky little pony!  I—” the left head with the pointed snout said.  

“—we—” the other head corrected.  

“—are Orthros!” the left head finished.  

“I have a lot of questions—” I started.  

“But of course you do!” the right head said, lights blinking along its snout as the speakers in its nostrils projected its voice, “Who would not have questions for the great—” 

“—and mighty—”  

“—wise—”  

“—and powerful—”  

“—Orthros?”  

I gave up turning back and forth between the heads as they alternated speaking and tried to take in both at the same time.  

“First off, where are we?” I asked.  

“Why, you are in the Castle, of course!” the left head boomed proudly.  “The greatest manufacturing complex ever made—”  

“—far from pesky Equestrian legislation.”  

“Here in the Griffin Commonwealth—”  

“—we were able to accommodate all our company’s divisions—”  

“—and after the War—” 

“—it became our fortress—”  

“—the seat of our power—” 

“—where Orthros can rule supreme!”  

“Your company?” I asked.  “You were around during the War?”  

“But of course!” the left head said, “Our company was the most profitable—”  

“—and productive—” 

“—in all of Equestria—” 

“—and beyond!”  

“Until the Ministry of Wartime Technology tried to shut us down.”  

“Yes, that …”  

“Applejack has always been a thorn in our side—”  

“—we should have seen her betrayal coming—”  

“—but she didn’t get us in the end!”  

“We made it to the Griffin Commonwealth just in time—”  

“—to see the end of Equestria—”  

“—and the beginning of a new and exciting future!”  

“I was Flim—”  

“—I was Flam—”  

“—CEO—”  

“—and COO—”  

“—of Flim-Flam Incorporated—”  

“—Conglomerated—”  

“—Amalgamated!” 

“No longer mere ponies—” 

“—but an immortal intelligence!”  

“Two brains—”  

“—one mind!”  

“Two heads—”  

“—one body!”  

“We—”  

“—are Orthros!”  

Much like the RoBronco scientists, it brought me back to my time in the Equestrian Wasteland.  I could barely remember first reading about Flim and Flam in the Zephyr auto-carriage plant north of Vanhoover, about how they’d fled to the Griffin Commonwealth.  More vividly, I remembered them from Roaring Thunder’s memory orbs. These two ponies had headed up Project S.O.A.R.  They’d kidnapped foals and performed genetic experiments on them in order to produce the Thunderbolts.  What had they done to me?  

“What did you do to me?” I asked Orthros straight out, “I was dying, yet now I feel perfectly fine. No, more than fine.  I lost a foreleg months ago, and now it’s back!”  

“We saved you,” said Flam.  

“We fixed you,” said Flim.  

“We made you better.” 

“Better how?” I asked. 

“You seem upset,” said Flim.  

“Perhaps you are not ready to hear,” said Flam.  

“Better how?” I repeated more forcefully.  

“We have repaired—” Flim said.  

“—replaced—”  

“—enhanced—”  

“—all that was broken—” 

“—or inferior.”  

“Your bones are adamantine—”  

“—and your horn as well—” 

“—137% more magically conductive!”  

“Your spine is capable of 16 more degrees of rotation—”  

“—transmits signals 6.78 times faster—”  

“—and is capable of auto-injection of healing potions and stimulants into your flesh!”  

“Your hearing, sight, and smell are greatly enhanced—”  

“—and your sense of balance is infallible!”  

“You are capable of flight—”  

“—and we have even restored your missing leg!”  

“You are better—”  

“—in every way!”  

“What am I missing?” I asked, feeling a void within me like I never had before, as if I were completely hollow.  

“You are missing nothing.”  

“You are better—”  

“In every way?!” I shouted, interrupting Orthros.  “What parts of me did you remove in order to make me … better?”  

“Well, your spine for starters—”  

“—snapped!”  

“We fixed it—”  

“—but the one you have now is so much better!”  

“Your horn—”  

“—had to go—”  

“—with the rest of your bones—”  

“—and eyes—”  

“—tongue—”  

“—heart—”  

“—and brain of course!” 

“You got rid of my brain!?” I asked indignantly, disbelievingly.  “How could you take my brain!?”  

“We didn’t ‘get rid of’ it—”  

“—per se.”  

“It’s still around—” 

“—here at the Castle—” 

“—along with everything else—”  

“—but it’s much safer here—”  

“—than inside your skull—”  

“—even if it is adamantine now—”  

“—and the signal latency—”  

“—between here and the receiver in your head—”  

“—is negligible—”  

“—even from great distances—”  

“—or in adverse weather conditions—”  

“—so what’s the difference, really?”  

I collapsed to the floor. I’d already been pulled apart and rebuilt once in my life, when Lord Lamplight had wanted to start again.  Now it had happened again, but in a much more serious way. What of me still existed after Orthros had finished making me “better?”  Was I nothing more than a skinsuit wrapped around something mechanical, controlled from the distance like a puppet?  

“Turn me back,” I said quietly.  

“Quite impossible—” 

“—and why would we want to do something like that?”  

“Turn me back!” I demanded loudly.  

“We will do—”  

“—no such thing.”  

“We though you would be grateful.”  

“You will be in time.” 

“No,” I said defiantly, and I levitated Big Iron from my saddlebags and pointed it at the left head, “Your brain is in there somewhere, and I’ve seen this thing kick through more armor than what you’ve got.  I fire this and you’re dead.  Turn. Me.  Back!”  

“You’re not going to fire,” the right head said.  “If you kill us, then how will we turn you back?”  

“And how can you hold us at gunpoint as we turn you back?” the left head asked, unfazed by my threat.  

“Why?” I asked, “Why did you do this to me?”  

“You were dying.”  

“We saved you.”  

“We made you better.” 

“Stop saying that!” I shouted, shaking with anger, but what Orthros had said wasn’t wrong—I couldn’t shoot them—and I lowered the revolver.  “What did you have to gain?”  

“Why, nothing—”  

“—other than to see if we could save you—”  

“—so close to death!” 

“It was the most exciting thing we’ve done in decades!”  

“So, you’re just going to completely rebuild me and turn me loose then?” I asked skeptically.  

“Well, yes—”  

“—and no.”  

“Before you go, we want to see exactly how much we were able to improve you.”  

“A series of tests. Then you can return to the Commonwealth.”  

“And if I refuse?” I asked. 

“You are free to do so—” 
 
“—but this is our Castle—”  
 
“—and you will find it difficult to leave—”  
 
“—until you’ve completed the tests.”  

“Then I refuse,” I said defiantly, “I’ll find my own way out.”  

Neither Orthros nor the securitaur that had escorted me here made any protests as I turned and walked out of the chamber.  It was silly, and I knew it, to refuse to do the tests if Orthros intended to let me out of the Castle afterwards, but I didn’t want to do anything for that … thing, even if it had saved my life.  I’d find my way out of the Castle, even if I had to fight robotic dogs and securitaurs or blow doors off their tracks.  

Unfortunately, leaving proved as difficult as Orthros had said.  The Castle, as far as I could perceive it, was a maze of corridors. Windows hadn’t been included in the design, so there was no way of telling which way was out.  I prized or hacked open a few doors, but only rooms or more hallways lay behind them, and none of them seemed to lead to an exit.  Eventually I found my way back up to the rooms I’d awakened in.  Food was stocked, as the securitaur had said, and this time I was able to see myself in the mirror over the sink.  I looked much the same as I had before, apart from the wings on my back and the slight glow from my irises.  

Stubbornly, I kept trying to escape for several hours, but when I continued to find no sign of how to get out, I returned to Orthros in defeat.  I would do their tests, and hope and pray they would keep their word and let me out when I was finished.  The securitaur who appeared to have waited in Orthros’s chamber all this time led me to another cavernous room where I would run through the tests prepared for me.  

First was an eyesight and accuracy test.  Dummies of griffins, earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi darted or flew around the room, and I shot them all down easily.  I learned that my eyesight was sharper than it had ever been and was capable of magnification, low-light, and infrared vision, as well as predictive overlays of where out-of-sight targets were based on sound and last positions. In addition, I was able to speed up my perception at will, negating the need for a time-dilation spell like ERSaTS. It was all in my head now; all I had to do was choose a target, and I couldn’t fail to hit.  

Then the securitaur had me running flight tests.  It was a strange sensation to fly with wings upon my back, and not even Roaring Thunder’s memory orbs could’ve prepared me for this.  My wings weren’t like those of a pegasi, and they behaved entirely differently.  The four of them together flapped rapidly in order to hold me aloft or propel me and could fold back swiftly if I needed to dive or pass through a narrow place. After awhile, I got the hang of it and realized they would do all the work so long as I knew where I wanted to go. I was soon moving through the obstacle course with ease.  

Finally, my magic was to be tested.  Orthros had claimed that there would be a 137% increase in my power, but I had no idea how they could predict or measure something like that, especially since I rarely used my magic for anything other than levitation.  The securitaur apparently realized that and started me off by lifting increasingly heavy things.  After that, I moved on to more complex spells, such as teleportation and conjuring illusions.  

I must have done well enough to satisfy Orthros with my performance, for I was brought back to their chamber to be released.  I’d become resigned to the idea that they weren’t going to turn me back, and I just wanted to be on my way.  I would have preferred to be put back the way I’d been or at least have my brain returned to me, but that would have to wait.  I’d return to the Castle eventually, once I figured out how I could compel Orthros to turn me back or do so myself.  For now, I needed to get back to my original reason for coming to Iron Valley: the Dogs of War were still out there terrorizing the scavengers, and I had to stop them.  

“I have one more question for you,” I told Orthros.  “How did you get the Dogs of War to leave my body behind?  There’s no way your robots could have bested them.”  

“Oh, you can thank Robert Horse for that—” the right head said.  

“—and our corporate spies,” added the other head.  

“He thought he was so bright—”  
 
“—but he was paranoid—” 
 
“—about the wrong things.”  
 
“He thought his robots might rise up against him some day—”  
 
“—so he built into the core of all his code a master override key.”  
 
“Even the Dogs of War have it.”  
 
“It was difficult to obtain—”  
 
“—expensive to obtain—” 
 
“—but we got it—”  
 
“—and can override any RoBronco robot—”  
 
“—even the Dogs of War.” 
 
“Two hundred fifty-six characters—”  
 
“—is all it takes—” 
 
“—to unmake them.” 

“I don’t suppose you’d share it with me,” I said skeptically.  

“That seems a bit greedy, doesn’t it?”  
 
“And it would defeat the point of you.”  
 
“Go forth, Wasteland Doctor, into the Griffin Commonweatlh—”  
 
“—and do good with the enhancements we’ve gifted you!”  

“Sure,” I said. “Want to point the way?”  

Instead of Orthros responding verbally, the securitaur trundled past me and out of the chamber. I followed, taking one last look back at Orthros as they retracted back up to the ceiling.  The securitaur led me down the hallways of the Castle, and I tracked where we were going in comparison to where I’d searched before, to see how close I’d gotten to the exit.  Everything was familiar, until the securitaur took me through a door I could’ve sworn hadn’t been there when I’d searched for the exit.  Had I missed it somehow, or had it just been concealed?  It didn’t look like the kind of door that could be hidden by secret panels; it even had tall, narrow windows next to it.  I followed the securitaur through a darkened reception area with abandoned couches, chairs, and coffee makers, and as it neared the end of the room, metal shutters rose to reveal a wall of windows. Outside was a barren wasteland not all that different from what I’d seen in Equestria.  

“The Castle was struck by a zebra megaspell at the end of the War, but we survived,” the securitaur explained.  “The balefire radiation that remains should not harm you as you are, but keep an eye on your vitals.”  

Text flashed in front of me, superimposed over my vision.  I found that, just by thinking, I was able to pull up menus similar to those on PipBeak to monitor my vitals, possessions, attributes, and location.  There was even a radio feature.  Blinking, I willed the text away and turned back to the waiting securitaur.  It was beckoning toward the door out and seemed to have nothing else to say.  

I trotted outside into the afternoon sunlight and took a look around.  The shutters slid back down over the windows behind me, sealing up the Castle. I was standing on a raised platform above the ground near train tracks. As I trotted away from the Castle, I could see loading and unloading docks for cargo tucked between the Castle’s wings, but I appeared to be in the passenger part of the station.  I continued to move back (which took quite a while and required jumping down from the train platform) until I could take in the entirety of the Castle.  It was a massive, blocky complex of cold steel built into the side of a mountain. In many ways, it did look like a castle—one with every possible weakness removed.  

Consulting my internal map, which contained all the points that were on my PipBeak’s map, I saw that the Castle was on the southern edge of Iron Valley, only a short distance off from being due south of RoBronco Site Hibiscus on the valley’s northern edge. I may have nearly died and been rebuilt, but I still had a mission, and Hibiscus was my way to get back on track. Keeping an eye on where the edge of the wasteland around the Castle ended, I set off north.  


***


I followed the railroad tracks west, intending to cut across to the north once RoBronco Site Hibiscus was at its closest.  As it turned out, that point (or near enough to it) was occupied by a settlement.  Originally, it had been an Equestrian factory complex composed of several long buildings. Over the railway spur that ran past it was a mostly intact frame with the words “Blaze-It Personal Defense” in neon lights, though only the word “Blaze” was now lit up.  The settlement seemed nice enough; the most unusual thing about it was that the settlers were ponies (something I would probably have to get used to it in the Iron Valley).  Earth ponies tended the fields outside the settlement, looking up at me as I trotted along the tracks, and a unicorn with a flamethrower battle saddle approached me as I neared the gap in the town fence.  

“Who are you?  What brings you to Blaze?” the mare asked, then she spotted the wings on my back.  “Where did you get those?”  

“I’m Doc.  I’m just passing through.  It’s a long story,” I replied to each of her questions in turn. 

“Well, that’s all right, then,” the guard-mare said as she trotted up alongside and accompanied me the rest of the way to the town entrance.  “Can’t be too careful, y’know?”  

She’d certainly accepted me quickly, so perhaps she could stand to be more careful.  I wasn’t going to bring that up, of course.  

“You have a lot of trouble with raiders?” I asked.  

“Not since we got these,” the mare said proudly as she hefted her flamethrower and let loose a tiny burst of flame.  “This factory was just filled with ‘em, along with more’n enough fuel to burn anything that comes our way.”  

Text flashed across my vision too fast to read, and I ignored it.  It was probably just some update to the notes my mind seemed capable of logging now.  I’d check it later and see if I could make any changes to the settings.  

“But you did have trouble with raiders, then?” I asked.  “I haven’t seen … well, any since I’ve been in the Iron Valley.”  

“Oh, there are still a few around, but they’ve mostly buzzed off since the pegasi showed up,” the mare said. 

“I’ve heard about the pegasi, but I don’t see any here,” I commented.  

“They mostly keep to themselves in New Pegasus.  Head back east and you’ll see plenty of them,” the mare said as she stopped accompanying me.  “Well, I hope you have a profitable stay in Blaze, an’ pick yourself up somethin’ with flames.  I’m Rust, by the way.”  

“Thanks,” I told Rust as she headed back to her post at the gate, skipping even beneath the weight of her flamethrower.  


***


I did, in fact, end up picking up something with flames, but probably not what Rust had intended. One of the shops in Blaze sold alchemistry equipment, and I picked up a basic kit with a burner that I could use to create potions on the go.  I’d had to rearrange the contents of my saddlebags so that I could fit it and its protective case in and not have lopsided weight, but I was able to easily chart out how to do so and reestablish balance thanks to my “upgrades.”  Everything was charted out and superimposed on my vision without me doing anything other than thinking about repacking.  I’d searched for a way to disable the various systems that projected overlays onto my vision but hadn’t had any luck yet.  From time to time, I still saw words flash before my eyes before vanishing.  I could go back to the Castle and have Orthros work out these apparent bugs, but I didn’t relish returning there, especially so soon after getting out.  

As I closed in on the end of the second day after leaving the Castle, I started experimenting with flying, testing how well my wings worked in external weather conditions and how my flight speed compared to my walking speed.  I was nearing the main rail line that cut through Iron Valley and spotted a building that seemed out-of-place among scattered warehouses. It looked like the high-density housing structures I’d seen occasionally in Vanhoover, but the sign atop it said “Beacon Hotel”.  As I flew closer, I saw that the sign had been crudely updated to now read “Beakon.”  I didn’t get any closer before the shooting began.  

Warning: Shots Fired!

“Yeah, no kidding,” I grumbled as the words flashed across my vision, and I drew my battle rifle.  

The griffins shooting at me from the roof were highlighted in my vision, and I magnified the image to get a better look at them.  They weren’t dressed like raiders, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  More shots zipped over my head, but none too close. Either the griffins were really bad shots, or these were warning shots.  There seemed to be some confusion amongst them as they got a good look at me, and I hesitantly let them force me down with more shots over my head.  As I landed in front of the hotel, they hovered down as well, but stayed airborne.  I spotted more griffins at the hotel’s entrance getting in battle positions, but all held their fire.  

“You’re not a pegasus!” a griffin with a sniper rifle accused as he hovered in front of me.  

“No, I am not,” I admitted.  “Does that change anything?”  

“Maybe,” the griffin replied as he made hand signals to his fellow griffins before fluttering down to stand before me.  “Are you with the Dashite Enclave?”  

“I can honestly say I have no idea what that is,” I replied.  

“New Pegasus,” the griffin said.  “They’ve been quiet lately, but they used to send pegasi out here to try to get us to join them.  I wouldn’t put it past them to send something a little more … exotic since we scared the last envoy off.”  

“These pegasi of New Pegasus, they have griffins with them?” I asked curiously while the griffin stared at my mechanical wings.  

“Some, but mostly just those near New Pegasus, for protection.  They’ve got their own communities for the most part, just like here. All griffins in Beakon.”  

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, mostly to myself.  “Every settlement I’ve seen in the Commonwealth has been either all griffins or all ponies, other than Pleasure Coast.”  

“Yeah, we tend to keep to our own kinds,” the griffin said.  “If you’ve been up to Pleasure Coast, I suppose there’s little chance you’re in league with the pegasi.”  

The griffin made some more motions with his claws, and the rest either flew back up to the roof or retreated inside the hotel.  He walked up to me and extended a claw to shake my hoof.  

“I’m Gershwin, head of security here,” he said as we shook, which I found odd to do with my hoof after spending so long using my prosthetic claw.  “Welcome to Beakon.”  

“Thanks, I’m Doc,” I told him.  “Maybe you can explain for me what a … clearly Equestrian hotel is doing in the middle of Iron Valley.”  

“Well, it’s simple, really,” Gershwin said as he walked me to the settlement’s entrance.  “When the Equestrian companies started moving in, they needed somewhere for their employees to stay while they built housing for them.  I guess it was supposed to be temporary, hence the ‘hotel,’ but there’s plenty around here to suggest there were ponies who stayed here for quite some time.  After the megaspells, well, a lot of them moved on, west to Castoway, east to New Pegasus once it arrived, or to some other spot they thought was better.  Some griffins who were tired of roost life moved in once the place was abandoned, figuring it was as good a spot as any for a new town.”  

Subject: Gershwin
Crime: Squatting

I tried to ignore the text that scrolled across my vision.  I’d seen similar assertions during my trek through the Iron Valley, but they were completely meaningless.  How could someone commit the crime of “squatting” when the world was in ruins?  Settlements cropped up wherever there was a valuable or defensible location, and that was almost always in a place where something had existed during the War.  In a way all settlers were squatters.  

“I guess the defensibility would appeal,” I said as I took in the imposing edifice of the hotel.  It was a sturdy concrete structure, and the windows were small enough that it would be a struggle to squeeze through for all but the slimmest griffin.  Assault even from the air would be difficult, something that griffins no doubt took for granted as a necessity.  

“That, and the rich source of salvage in the area,” Gershwin said.  “There are a lot of warehouses and factories nearby just waiting to be plundered. We could be here for another decade and still be able to go out and come back loaded in a day.”  

Crime: Looting

My eye twitched at the unwanted message.  If looting abandoned ruins was a crime, then I was among the guiltiest.  I really had to figure out how to turn these notifications off before they drove me mad.  

“I think I’ll find a room for the night,” I told Gershwin, intending to finally clear up my vision, and he gave me a look.  “This is a hotel, right?”  

“Sure, and we’ve got a hotel like any good settlement, too,” Gershwin said.  “Head on up to floor four, ask for Grace; she’ll get you sorted.”  

“Thank you,” I told Gershwin.  “And thanks for not shooting me down immediately earlier.”  


***


I left at dawn the next morning, headed for RoBronco Site Hibiscus.  I’d taken a moment to look over the warehouses around Beakon, and it gave me some hope that I was on the right track.  One of the warehouses had had space devoted to Abacus Precision Solutions, the same company that the crate of Dog of War parts at RoBronco Site Rose had been stamped with.  There was nothing in the warehouse here to confirm my suspicions, but even the name was something to go on.  I followed the coordinates that the RoBronco scientists had left, until I stood where the secret site should have been.  

The ground was steep here, hills starting to give way to mountains, and I hovered more than walked across the perilous ground.  I was the perfect place to build a secret lab into the side of a hill, but there was no sign of any such thing.  I searched for train tracks leading to it, but the nearest branch was nearly a league away.  I spent hours scouring the area, wondering if the coordinates were off slightly, but there was still no sign of RoBronco Site Hibiscus.  Even when I employed the enhancements that Orthros had made to my eyes, I was unable to detect anything with my scans.  

Either the coordinates had been wrong, or there never was a RoBronco Site Hibiscus.  That couldn’t be, though; the Dogs of War were coming from somewhere.  Speaking of the Dogs of War, I hadn’t seen a single one during my search, nor signs of their presence.  Surely I was in the wrong place.  Blindly searching for the Dogs didn’t appeal to me, not when I still had Orthros to deal with in the back of my mind, so I needed a new lead.  The RoBronco scientists had gotten the names and locations of the two secret RoBronco sites from somewhere, and there was only one place in the Griffin Commonwealth I could think of where they could have gotten them. Turning west, I began my trek back to Castoway.  


***


It took me a week of travel to make it back to the coast, and it was late at night when I arrived at the sinking port city.  I seriously doubted that the Artificer had been straight with me during my last audience, so I was bound for the Workshop first.  Somehow, I’d get my answers from the Artificer or from the building’s maneframes.  If that failed, there was always the land deed office again and Abacus Precision Solutions, but I felt that RoBronco HQ was the most likely source of the RoBronco scientists’ information.  

Castoway’s streets were dimly lit, and the guards on display to protect territory during the day had retreated inside, leaving only one or two scattered ponies to watch the night. As I trotted down a dark alleyway, my enhanced eyes picked up movement and my enhanced ears picked up low voices. I should know better than to pry in this town, but my curiosity got the better of me and I crept down the alley, my hoofsteps placed perfectly to avoid noise, my form blending seamlessly into the shadows.  

At the end of the alley, near a set of dumpsters, were three figures.  My low-light vision kicked in, and I was able to make them out as a pony on the left and two griffins on the right.  The pony was cowering and babbling incoherently while he tried to hold his saddlebags away from the griffins.  The griffins, I recognized, were also ghouls, and one held a machete threateningly pointed at the pony.  More than that, I recognized who the griffins were.  

Subjects: Mayhem and Havoc
Crime: Murder of Mayor Gastón Delgado of Pleasure Coast
Crime: Attempted Murder of Gerald von Griff
Crime: 467 Contracted Murders

The Commonwealth Crooner had said that Mayhem and Havoc had fled to the south after I’d unmasked their attempt to place the Immortals in charge of Pleasure Coast, and it seemed I’d found them.  These assassins had cost Gloria Delgado her father and caused chaos during the mayoral election runup that had taken the lives of many griffins and ghouls in Pleasure Coast.  And now it seemed they were trying to kill or rob this pony.  They were supposed to be very good at their jobs, but I could stop them, especially now with the enhancements Orthros had gifted me.  

Justice Protocols Activated

Time slowed to a crawl as my body took over and calculated the best way to take out Mayhem and Havoc. The griffin ghouls turned sharply at the buzz of my wings as I darted from the shadows and cut off their escape upwards.  I fired Big Iron into Havoc’s right wing while I crunched a hoof into Mayhem’s left wing.  Their wings were featherless, unable to lift them, but they’d had batlike enhancements made that would let them fly, destroyed by me in an instant.  They shouted in surprise, and the nearby pony yelped and backed away.  

Mayhem swung his machete at me while Havoc tried to put some distance between us and draw her sniper rifle. My hooves swung up to block Mayhem’s swing, closing on either side of the blade and halting it a hair’s-breadth from my horn.  He stared at me in shock, rotted features twisting, and I applied pressure with my hooves, snapping the blade into slivers.  Mayhem rocked back to avoid the broken machete, and I stepped out of the way as well before advancing on him.  Grunting angrily, the ghoul reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a grenade. I stepped back as he yanked the pin and tossed the explosive my way, assured of his success.  My horn flashed, and the grenade teleported into Mayhem’s throat, causing him to clutch at it and choke for a second before it detonated, blowing his head off.  

“No!” Havoc screamed as ichor rained down and Mayhem’s decapitated corpse collapsed to the ground. 

From her perch atop a dumpster, Havoc fired her sniper rifle at me.  My body moved with supernatural speed, actually dodging the bullets as I advanced toward her.  She was visibly shaken by the time I grabbed her rifle in my magic and crumpled it. She drew a pistol, but I was faster, as in all things.  Big Iron rang out four times, emptying the revolver of all but one bullet, each shot capable independently of killing her.  The ghoulish griffin assassin’s body slid down wetly along the top of dumpster before collapsing to the ground in a heap.  

“Holy shareholders,” the pony I’d saved said in astonishment as he slowly approached, and I turned to face him.  “Y-you just saved my life.  I’m very grateful, very, very grateful.  How can I show my gratitude?”  

The pony looked flustered before an idea seemed to pop into his head and he undid the buckles on his saddlebags.  

“A discount on my wares for you, ninety percent off!” he exclaimed as he pulled back the flap of his saddlebags to reveal vials of Buck, neuregen, and many other drugs I had never seen before crowded together.  

Subject: Unknown
Crime: Sale of Drugs

Mayhem and Havoc had been trying to get the neuregen they craved so much, explaining the altercation. I would turn the pony’s offer down. I would let it rest that I’d saved him from the assassins and nothing else.  I would, had I still been in control of my mind and body.  

“Ninety-five percent off?” the drug dealer offered, but I was deaf to his bartering.  

Big Iron rang out in the night one last time, and the pony collapsed dead to the ground.  Doc was gone, subsumed by Orthros’s programming.  My body now belonged to Justice. 

Level Up
New Quest: Justice Protocol Engaged – Cleanse Castoway of all crime and prepare the way for the just governorship of Orthros. 
New Perk: Horse Secrets – After reading RoBronco Industries Coding Practices and APIs, you understand the secrets of RoBronco programming.  +10 to Science when hacking a RoBronco maneframe or robot (including Dogs of War).  
New Quest Perk: Built to be Better – Orthros has thoroughly enhanced your body in every way.  +4 to Strength, Perception, and Endurance.  +3 to Agility.  No part of your body can be crippled, you automatically heal, and you are immune to all toxins.  You can also fly now and have all four legs again.  
Strength +4* (9)
Perception +4* (10)
Endurance +4* (10)
Agility +4* (10)
Alchemistry +2 (54)
Athletics +2 (40)
Barter +1 (116)
Electronics +1 (54)
Illusion Magic +1 (34)
Lockpick +1 (113)
Manipulation Magic +1 (43)
Science +1 (115)
Small Guns +3 (136)
Sneak +1 (114)
Speech +1 (115)
Survival +4 (66)
Unarmed +1 (93)

*Built to be Better