Fallout: Equestria - Change

by MetalGearSamus

Chapter 5: Crossfire

The first thing I felt when I woke up was Garlic. He had cuddled up to me during the night, and one of his forelegs was draped over my side. I snapped fully awake and nearly leaped out of the bed as soon as I registered who the warm body was.

Feed...

No. Calm down, I told myself. He had beaten me, hurt me, but that was directed at Tumbleweed. I was Tulip now. He wouldn’t hurt me. He would feed me. I didn’t need to be afraid. I would get even after I’d taken his love.

I composed myself and slipped out from his grasp, faking a particularly loud yawn as I did. I stretched the stiffness out of my limbs and squinted into the morning’s darkness. Very little light filtered through the door, but I spotted a light switch next to it and flicked it on.

Unlike his throne room, this place was lavish. The walls were a calm white, and the ceiling was painted a blue that was reminiscent of the cloud-buried sky. A polished vanity was placed on the other side of the bed, beside a dresser big enough to hold two ponies. Several shelves lined the east wall, displaying many trinkets and treasures. There was a golden pocket watch, scratched and worn; several wooden carvings of mares and stallions, all posing regally; a deck of cards that was in miraculous mint condition; a few freaky masks; and a pair of books with blank covers and some old magazines. I had an urge to read them, but they were on the top shelf, and I wasn’t able to reach that high without magic. Instead, I trotted over to the vanity, and started nosing around its drawers. There were several necklaces, all made of plastic, many different earrings, none of which were in a matching pair, and various vials of ground leaves and followers. I guessed those were what passed for perfume around here. Or incense maybe? There were only a few garments in the dresser, all of which were terribly tacky and moth-eaten. Ugh. My curiosity satisfied, I turned around to rouse my breakfast.

I yawned loudly again, and this time Garlic stirred. I greeted him with a smile and repressed a flinch when he stretched a hoof out to caress my face. His touch made my skin crawl.

“Good morning, Garly,” I said as lovingly as I could. It was odd having such a high voice after getting used to Tumbleweed’s baritone, but I didn’t get caught up on the change. It was just part of the life.

“Good morning, dear.” He smiled back at me, and I stretched out a mental proboscis.

Feed!

Love. I breathed in deeply as it blossomed slowly outward form him, overwhelming my senses. I thought the gratitude of the slaves had been delicious. I had been wrong. This was a new delicacy beyond any sensation I had felt before. Sweet as nectar, quenching as water, and more rejuvenating than sleep. I closed my eyes and sighed as he nuzzled against me, drinking up the emotion as fast as he could put it out.  I was tasting my lifeblood for the first time, and I was in utter ecstasy. I relaxed into his embrace. Forget killing him. So long as he could keep feeding me love I would forgive those unwitting attacks.

Yes! Oh yes! Finally! FINALLY!

I didn't stop drinking. I had my mental fangs firmly implanted and his love was freely flowing, but I wanted more. I needed more—all of it! I triggered my magic without thinking, and suddenly I felt something in his mind give; a wall I didn't know I had been pressing on. I felt a part of my own mind slip into his, and a maelstrom of emotion welled up to greet me: love, happiness, lust, joy—The rush sent a wave of panic through me. What was happening!?

Too much. Too much! Not yet! Back! No—

Then, I knew: Love was more than another delicious emotion. It is a gateway. A passage down into the very core of a pony’s soul. Before I realized what I was doing I wrenched those feelings out in a deluge and, overwhelmed by their energies, choked them down. Energy burst into me, strengthening me beyond mere sustenance. I felt POWER now. Finally, I had a small taste of what the Queen had once craved. But, what was left in Garlic after I had finished was... nothing. I had drained his emotional core, and felt a hard lump of blackness where a pure soul should have been. I was struck with a sense of Deja vu—I had hit this core before. We had hit it—burrowed down to it many times already, and balked at its poisonous presence. I balked again, now.

It was an absence, plain and simple. Where the profound goodness of Ponykind had once been, I now found only a cold emptiness. His soul was lacking. Fundamentally deprived of a light I knew had once been there. Though enveloped by the sea of his emotions, it had always been a cold, empty place. This was wrong, I knew. This void in his soul was the seed of all that had become wrong with the world. But who had planted it?—or rather, who had uprooted the light it once held?

It was what had made us hunt them so desperately, that light of goodness.

I stood frozen at this revelation, unsure of what I had just done. I felt more full and more powerful than I had ever been, but I was also beginning to feel bloated, and that gyre of feelings I had taken in did not sit well in my mind. Taking it all, ripping it out, was a violation. One I had done unknowingly.

You slaughter the cow and it’s milk runs sour.

After a moment Garlic broke our embrace, but he was no longer smiling at me. His eyes were glazed over, tinged green by magic I hadn’t known I was using. “What time is it?” he asked lethargically, “I’m hungry. What do you feel like for breakfast, dear?”

“Actually, I just ate,” I said, my voice slow and cautious.

“Oh...” he scrunched his nose, confused, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I was just so hungry Garly, and... you looked so peaceful, sleeping there. I didn’t want to wake you.” I nuzzled him again, hoping that maybe I could elicit another burst of emotion. Nothing. He was an empty chalice.

“Well... thank you for letting me sleep in," he stated, “But let’s get going. I’ve got a lot to do today. I hear a trade convoy may have made it down here.” He started toward the door, and I walked next to him, my body full of energy and apprehension. “Oh, that reminds me, I have a gift to give you later today, dear. It’s something I know you’ll love.” Though his words were kind they held no emotion. He was a robot reciting a script, not a lover talking to the one he loved.

“Mmm,” I said, still nervously keeping pace with my host, “I can’t wait, Garly...” He didn’t respond, and we exited the hallway into his throne room.

Onion was waiting for us there, a hard look on his face. “Bad news, boss,” he said the moment he saw Garlic, “That buck who stopped by yesterday? He’s back.” Garlic’s neutral expression fell into one of anger.

“Well, tell him the same thing we told him then: I don’t give a damn!”

“There’s one little problem with that,” Onion drawled, “He brought a mob with him this time.”

“What? What do you mean a mob?”

“Mob” was a bit of an understatement.

Half the ponies of Bulbs were massed outside the plantation’s gate, and at their head was Light Ray. I had completely forgotten about the fate of Spare Parts. Everything had been pushed to the back of my mind the moment I’d caught that whiff of Garlic’s love.

“Now will you fuckers listen t’ me?” the earth pony bellowed. We were several dozen meters away, but even at this distance I could see that he was aiming a battle-saddle through the gate, toward where Garlic, Onion, and I stood. I voiced my concern about standing out in the open, but Onion insisted that we were safe at this range. The guards, some of whom stood behind the gate as a barrier while others looked on from the watchtowers, had their own guns trained on the mass of ponies besieging them. Beside Light Ray, Cathode held out her gun in front of his chest, holding him back like a sprinter at the starting line. She glanced nervously back and forth between the two factions.

“What... what does he want?” I asked. I could make a rough guess: revenge.

“He blames us for an... accident that happened to one of his friends,” Onion answered, his gaze locked on the gathered mob.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? What accident—?”

“That doesn’t fucking matter,” Garlic interjected, stomping a hoof on the ground, “The point is he thinks he knows how to handle my guards better than I do! Onion!” he said, jerking his head toward the orange stallion, “Do whatever you have to to get those good-for-nothings outta my sight. I don’t—”

“Hey!” Light Ray’s voice erupted into the space between us, pulling Garlic’s focus back to him. “Garlic! I know that’s you, fucker! You can’t just shoot my kid sister and walk away! Get the fuck over here and own up, you fucking bastard!” Garlic stepped forward, snarling.

“How dare you talk that way to me!?” he shouted, “If you leeches don’t want to get shot, don’t attack my ponies!” The venom in his voice was terrifying. It was the polar opposite of what I had felt inside him that morning; I understood then that the void I had left inside him was not truly empty. It was brimming with the emotions I could not feel: hate, sorrow, guilt, envy... We Chagelings did not feed on negative energies, why would we ever need to sense them?

“You think I buy that story, fucker? Parts didn’t attack nopony! I got Wattson’s own word on that, and he was there when th’ bastard shot her!” There were several shouts of agreement from the mob behind him, and the guards up front glanced back at Garlic nervously. He, in turn, narrowed his eyes and looked over at Onion. The stallion stammered briefly before trotting forward to address Light Ray without having to practically scream. His mouth was planted firmly around the bit of his battle-saddle.

“Look, I know you’re mad and all, but we don’t shoot ponies unless we got good reason too. We were... apprehending a wanted criminal and she tried to stop us. She brought it on herself.”

“Bullshit!” someone from the crowd cried out. Light Ray nodded. He was bent low to the ground now, primed to spring into action.

“I won’t be satisfied until th’ fucker responsible is dead!” he shouted, “And as far as I’m concerned that’s you, Garlic!” At this, all the guards aimed their weapons at him, if they were not doing so already. Cathode slowly stepped back from Light Ray, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. This was not going to end well.

“Oh, so you’re going to kill me, then?” Garlic laughed, surprising me. “If I die so does Bulbs. My plantation's the only thing keeping your sad excuse for a city fuelled and you know it!" I raised an eyebrow at that claim. Sure, he seemed to be in command here, but I hadn't seen him do anything special to keep this place operating. If he died, what would stop somepony else from just taking his place?

If my train of thought was shared by the townsfolk, they didn't show it. A murmur spread through them at Garlic's words, and even Light Ray was silent for a moment. But he recovered and said, "You think I believe that crap about your magic? You'd better send me th' pony who shot Parts before I decide t’ put that claim of your t’ th’ test!" At that, the murmur increased, and several voices took issue with Light Ray's brashness. I saw Onion plant his feet, and I knew he was about to open fire.

“Everypony, please!” Cathode cried, jumping in front of Light Ray and looking desperately between each side, “We can reason this out. Let’s not be wasting bullets on our own neighbours if we don’t have to.”

“We should just open fire,” Garlic stated, “I don’t want any of my guards dying.”

I gave him a surprised expression. “Garly, dear, I don’t think that would help. You might bring the whole town down on us.” Though broken, he was still the only good source of love I’d found so far, and I did not want him getting himself killed before I knew if his positive emotions would come back or not.

At my words he gave me an angry look and made a guttural noise in his throat. “Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do, let them lynch my ponies?” he snapped, “And besides, I don’t even know who did it in the first place! I’ll just have them shoot their leader, that’ll quiet the rest down.” He stepped forward to act on his words, but I ran in front of him and blocked his chest with a hoof.

“Wait, you don’t know who did it?” I asked. So neither Onion nor Morning Bell had given him the full story? I smiled briefly as I began to form a plan—I doubted he would be very accommodating to liars in his current state.

“No, I don’t. Now would you mind going inside dearest one?” Again his words lacked the care they implied. “Bullets are about to start flying, it’s not safe.”

Curse his tongue, it was at that exact moment that Light Ray’s furry boiled over. My head snapped around as the first gunshot was fired, and I gasped in horror at it’s effects. The Survival Guide had talked briefly about the fact that guns could fire different types of ammunition, and I guess that Light Ray must have been using explosive rounds, because one of the legs of the easternmost watchtower was now smoldering scrap, and I heard short cries of terror as it bent under its own weight and collapsed, scattering both Garlic’s guards and the unruly mob they had been facing. Chaos ensued.

The first thing Garlic did, despite his apparent lovelessness, was tackle me to the ground and scream at his guards to “Kill all those fuckers!” I saw the plantation’s gate break down as Garlic’s guards took cover behind the collapsed watchtower. Though it provided little cover, it gave them a huge advantage over anypony else. The only other shelters were but a few large rocks and a total of one muddy hole near the road. Already I saw several ponies dead on both sides, notably all the guards in the collapsed tower, and most of the ponies who had been near the front of the mob. However, I did not see Light Ray’s body among them.

A bullet pinged off the ground near my tail and I screamed, covering my head feebly with my hooves. “Come on dear, let’s go!” I heard Garlic say. I gasped. I had heard—and felt—a hint of true emotion in that voice. Maybe the damage I’d done wasn’t irreversible? I leap to my feet as more stray bullets whizzed by, and together we cantered away from the firefight. I sorely missed my barding, worn though it had been.

The battle was spreading. Around me I could see more guards sprinting toward the gate as reinforcements, while others were busy corralling the slaves back into their pins, fearing they take advantage of the attack. Just then, I thought I saw a flash of indigo out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look I saw nothing but a few tulips that had been trampled in the slave’s mad rush to get away from the firefight. Another slew of gunshots ended my focus on that little curiosity, and I continued to gallop back toward the main buildings of the plantation.

The skirmish turned into a battle, and the battle soon degraded into a stalemate. Though Garlic directed his guards at the barracks to reinforce the front gate, neither side was able to push the other back. A horrible tension dragged on, with the guards and townsfolk able to do little but wait behind whatever cover they had found and take pot shots at anypony on the opposing side daring enough to stick their head out. Both Light Ray and Garlic were too enraged to consider a truce. All the while the skies had darkened overhead, threatening to burst and make the day even more miserable.

I, meanwhile, was with Garlic next to the makeshift war-room that had been set up after he realized the battle wouldn’t be over quickly. However, it was less of a room and more of a table made from an overturned harvest bin that had been hurriedly set up just outside the front door of Garlic’s court. I crouched low behind it while Garlic and a couple of exhausted guards tried to come up with some way to break the stalemate. They had not been successful so far.

The first thing they attempted was to have some guards hop the fence to try and flank the townsfolk, hoping they could sweep them up quickly. Unfortunately for Garlic, the townsfolk had had the same idea. The resulting clash left about a dozen dead or maimed and both sides too paranoid to try the maneuver again. Even now Morning Bell was looking twitchily back and forth between the hillsides, her left eye swollen shut.

Next they had tried to blast the townsfolk away with the few explosives they had available, but their supply had been too limited to make any impact. One shattered rock and three dead, but that seemed to only strengthen their conviction. Garlic then wanted to just snipe them from atop the watchtowers, but, again, we lacked the proper arms to attack from that far away. All that resulted were wasted bullets and a guard lost to friendly fire. The sniper who had done it was still curled up sobbing in the watchtower he’d shot from. Apparently they’d been friends.

It had been a painfully slow game of attrition, and neither side had much stamina left.

Throughout this time I had done little but cower near Garlic. I had stopped flinching at the echoes of gunfire after that first failed flanking maneuver, but the terror of getting killed by either Light Ray or a stray bullet kept me firmly planted behind the harvest bin. I just wanted this battle to be over with. I again contemplated simply telling Garlic that Onion had been the one responsible for Spare Parts’ death, but that would risk my disguise, and Garlic made it clear that even if he did know who had done it, he would never let the townsfolk have them on principle. He would also not let this ‘humiliation’ go unpunished.

“An embargo, that’s what I’ll do! If those ungrateful fucks want food they can get it from Maize!”

The only good thing that had happened during this ordeal was that Garlic’s emotions had begun to restore themselves. The process was slow, but I noticed that the green was fading from his eyes, and I could feel phantoms of the love he once held for me—or Tulip, rather. I resisted the urge to drink them right away. I did not want to deplete my only food source again.

Feed...

“Hey!” somepony shouted, “Garlic!” I peeked over the edge of the bin, and saw one of the guards trotting toward us. Cathode was at her side, limping slightly. She had several bandages on her forelegs and a nasty cut above one of her cheekbones, but she managed to keep pace with the mare escorting her.

“What? What do you want?” Garlic demanded, cursing under his breath. Though his capacity for good emotions was returning, the situation was doing little to bring them back out.

Morning Bell, along with the three other guards who were here, aimed their weapons at the bleeding security mare, though the action was mostly reflexive. Even I could she see was not a threat. Her eyes widened a bit, but the mare who had brought her in waved her forward. “Mister Garlic, sir,” Cathode blurted, “We need to stop this. Too many ponies are dying. I’m here to ask for a truce.” She panted as Garlic took her in, blood slowly seeping down through the hair on her face.

“Why should I give you a truce?” His voice was dry and tired. Though his eyes still held a fire the bags underneath them betrayed his body’s weariness of this battle. He had snapped and shouted at almost every one of his subordinates since he first awoke, and from their hurt reactions I could tell that he was not himself today. I had extirpated his good emotions, and the aggression and ego that was left had extended his tolerance for this violence far beyond what it should normally have been. This confrontation may never have gotten so out of hand had I not been greedy this morning. I chastised myself for not being more cautious. This whole debacle had been a huge waste of my time. A huge, terrifying waste.

“Why do you think?” Cathode spat, “There’s no point to this anymore. Too many of our folk are dead, too many of your folk are dead. Nopony’s getting anything out of this anymore. Let’s stop it while we can and end this pointless bloodshed.”

“While we can? Why should I care about how many of you have died? You are the ones who decided to attack me for no good reason! You’re getting what you deserve, you ungrateful leeches!” Around him his guards exchanged nervous looks. They all looked as tired of battle as Cathode was, and it was clear Garlic's unyielding bloodlust did not sit well with them.

"Boss, quit it!" Morning Bell cut in, stepping forward to confront Garlic, "She's right, there ain't any point. I'm tired of this—we're tired of this... lets end it now before anypony else gets killed." She paused for a moment before muttering, "Onion's the one who shot that mare. I was there. I didn't stop him."

Garlic glared at her, brooding. He opened his mouth and closed it again, angry but unable to retort. I saw his eyes flick to his sides, and I followed that glance. Even now his guards were lowering their weapons, all turning to face him the way Morning Bell had. He was encircled by them, with Cathode in their number, and the meaning was clear. They were tired of fighting. This was over. I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw Garlic’s resolve falter

“Garly, darling, please...” I begged. My words finished the job, and Garlic slumped in defeat.

“Alright,” he grumbled, “We’ll call a truce. But there will be consequences for what you’ve done!”

Then Tulip showed up.

I did not see her pounce, but I felt a sudden impact and the next thing I knew I was pinned on the ground staring up at the mare I’d kidnapped last night. “What the fuck are you!?” she screamed into my face, and I flinched as a few drops of spittle landed on me. Her eyes were wild and bloodshot, her coat was unkempt, splattered with bits of gore, and she reeked of sweat and violence. Her appearance, combined with the shock of her arrival and the way she towered over me caused me to react in a way it hadn’t know was possible before. I wet myself.

“Tulip? What...?”

“The fuck!?”

“Who the hell...?”

Everypony, including Cathode, suddenly had their weapons trained on us, clearly baffled by the appearance of a second Tulip. Thankfully, it also distracted them from the embarrassing mess I’d made.

“Dear...?” Garlic started.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU!?” Tulip raised a hoof to smash my head. I blocked the blow and kicked her off me. I rolled up to my hooves as fast as I could and jumped to Garlic’s side before the real Tulip could lash out at me again. He would save me. He was still under my spell. I could convince him that I was Tulip! I could...

“Tulip... what... two...” But he backed away from me, along with the rest of his guards. They were too confused and afraid to know what was going on. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through their heads right now.

Tulip charged me again, and I moved to dodge, but then we both found a pair of shotguns pressed against our foreheads. They were held in Morning Bell’s magic. We froze—I in a state of sheer terror, and Tulip in one of pure rage. She was quivering, glaring intensely at me. What would I do? What could I do? I was going to die. No no no—what could I do? Even if I flew away I would be shot, what—?

Calm. Calm—

“Both of you calm the fuck down right now, ya hear?” Morning Bell commanded, pushing a gun further into my skull for emphasis. Presumably she did the same to the real Tulip, but I didn’t see her flinch. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened, so one of ya’ll better start talkin’ before I decide to blow both of ya away.”

“I—” I started.

“No—” Garlic began.

“I’ll tell you what happened!” Tulip shouted, overwhelming us. She continued, her words filled with rage, “Last night, after some magic orb knocks me into the weirdest fucking dream I ever had, I woke up in a ditch fucking miles away with a Celestia-dammed radscorpion sniffing my tail! Then, after the scariest fucking morning of my life, I come back to find whateverthefuck this thing is—” She jabbed a hoof at me. “—sitting around like it’s supposed to be me and my home under a fucking siege and Garlic acting like a goddess-damned bloodthirsty fucking idiot!”

“What— How—” Garlic was still trying to say something, but he was cut off by Morning Bell.

“And you?” the mare asked, raising an eyebrow at me. Words caught in my throat.

“I—” What could I say? She had a gun at my head what could I say? I needed to think—oh Queen, save me—what do I say? “I...” I had no ideas. I had not expected for Tulip to come back so soon. I could do nothing but make pathetic squeaking noises as panic overwhelmed me. I braced myself to take off. If I could make it to the rooftop without getting shot, I would have enough cover to get away. I had gotten enough love to survive for awhile. I was good. Forget Garlic, forget the plantation, forget Bulbs. I just had to survive. Morning Bell lowered the gun on the real Tulip.

Run...

“Hold on now,” Cathode shouted, running up to stand in the middle of the three of us, “Let’s not be hasty here... didn’t we just say we’re tired of ponies dying? Maybe we can talk this out—”

“What’s to talk about?” Tulip snapped, “This... thing kidnapped me, nearly got me killed, and somehow stole my fucking body! There’s enough mutated bullshit to worry about already, I don’t need a fucking clone.”

“But you’re the clone!” I blurted. Tulip’s expression somehow got even angrier.

“Don’t you even fucking try that shit!” she screamed, her voice cracking on the third to final word. Her eyes glistened with tears. “You will not try and usurp my fucking life, you abomination!”

I gulped, glancing with wide eyes at the ponies surrounding me. My sputtering and panic had done me in. The guards’ weapons now trained exclusively on me, with Morning Bell’s shotgun still hovered menacingly by my head, while the one she had pointed at Tulip was now holstered. Even Cathode had stepped away from me. The only hope I had left was Garlic. I turned to him, seeing confusion and hurt in his eyes, and I reached out to try and ensnare his mind. If I could repeat what I had done that morning... but no, I could not get to his love. He did not offer it any more. His mind was closed to me by suspicion and distrust. The green in his eyes had vanished. What could I do? What do I do?

“Garly,” I tried again, desperate, “Help me—” The real Tulip charged at me, screaming.

I fell onto my back, kicking upward with my feet as Tulip flew into the space my torso had just been. The result sent her flying over me and crashing into Garlic. I didn’t wait for her to recover. I dashed toward the doorway, getting in just a moment before Morning Bell decided to open fire. That was it then; if they’d had any doubt before as to which one of us was real it was gone now. I was through the hallway and into the courtroom before I heard the door bang open again, and I took advantage of that second to transform into Onion. I wouldn’t fool anyone, but if they were flanking me then his face might give them pause.

Or might have, I should say. Nothing happened when I tried to trigger my magic. My eyes widened. He’d been killed? Really? But why hadn’t we heard about—?

There was no time to wonder, my pursuers were in the courtroom, and I was still two steps from the side door. A bullet grazed my flank, and I hissed in pain. I pushed open the door, and looked too my left. It was as I feared: two of the guards were running toward me, weapons at the ready. The next building side I could take cover behind was more than a two second sprint away, and not even a moment of hesitancy would have been enough to get me there. I was out of options. Time to fight.

They fired, and I leapt upward, giving my wings a furious flap as I dropping my disguise. A bullet tore through my knee, but my velocity was enough to keep me going. I rammed into the first one with my horn, goring his neck. He made panicked gurgling noises as I pushed him off my head, but they quickly subsided. I felt pain explode through where I’d been hit in my right foreleg as I launched myself at his companion, but it was worth it. Another moment later and he would have shot me in the head at point blank. As it was the bullet only bounced off my shell, and the guard was not agile enough to prevent my fangs from biting into his jugular.

More gurgling, then silence. A moment later the side door opened again.

I turned, and saw Morning Bell and the final guard, both their eyes wide with shock. Blood coated my face, trickling down my horn and dripping off my fangs.  The taste overwhelmed my senses, making me sick. My knee throbbed, and I could feel the leg it was on about to give out. I had to fight past the nausea and pain, though. I still had to take care of these two. I had no other choice. I couldn’t outrun them.

I jerked forward, but my leg couldn’t take it. I stumbled, barely managing to keep myself off the ground with my wings. I kicked down with my three good legs, sending myself just high enough to avoid the barrage of gunfire the two now-recovered guards sent at me. I practically tossed myself at them, landing on the one who wasn’t Morning Bell—an ugly black and red stallion. I went for his neck, but he managed to dodge me and got away with only a deep cut from one fang. In a flash, he had the gun in his mouth aimed at me, but in this position he was also shielding me from Morning Bell. Again, I pounced off three legs, flapping as hard as I could. The bullet he fired took only a wide gash of chitin off my underbelly, and I screamed in muffled agony as I snapped his neck between my jaws.

That left only Morning Bell. And her arsenal of guns.

I fell back, using the body of the buck I’d just slain as a meat shield to ward off a few seconds worth of bullets as Morning Bell unloaded on me. She was screaming something. Words of panic. I couldn’t hear clearly over the sound of her gunfire. I tasted and smelled nothing but blood. My eyes watered from the stench. Another bullet pinged off my shell, and I collapsed in pain. The buck slumped from my side, torn into a gory hide of meat. This was it, then. I couldn’t get back up fast enough.

I looked up. Morning Bell stared down at me with her good eye, its pupil shrunken to nothing. Three guns floated around her, their triggers clicking. She was hyperventilating. I blinked in surprise. She was scared?

I tried to take advantage of Morning Bell’s hesitation, but as soon as I started to struggle to my feet she snapped out of her panic. More clips floated out of her saddlebags. I stumbled, legs suddenly weak. The hits I’d taken had done their job. Already there was more green ooze pooling under me than I knew could be good. She was reloading her shotgun now. I didn’t want to die. Not here. Not yet. Not so soon after finally feeding. Not with so much unanswered. But I couldn’t move fast enough. What could I—?

Magic!

An epiphany. I had eaten Garlic’s love. I still had that power left to use. As Morning Bell finished reloading I summoned my magic, reaching out to the gun she held. The levitation spell materialized this time, and with all my strength I gave the weapon a sharp downward jerk the moment before she pulled the trigger. It worked, and the mare yelped in surprise and pain as her hoof was caught in the blast. The rest of her guns clattered to the ground, her concentration broken. I grabbed her pistol in my magic, and dragged it to my side. With my mouth I pointed it at her the moment before she could recover. We stared at each other, frozen.

I then remembered that this gun was out of bullets. Morning Bell grinned: she remembered too.

Before I could move, her gun was once again pressed against my skull, and the smile on her face widened. Behind her I could see that Garlic and Tulip had caught up as they rounded the side of the building. They paused in shock at this grisly scene.

“What... how did this happen?” Garlic asked, stepping around the pooling blood. His face looked somehow whiter.

“Is that the thing?” Tulip hissed, prowling forward, “Is that its real face?”

I didn’t move as Morning Bell pressed her gun into me. Tears were forming in my eyes. I had no idea what was keeping her from pulling that trigger, but I didn’t dare disturb it. Her smile kept getting wider and wider as my despair grew into madness. Not now, please, no, not now.

No no no. Stupid ponies and their stupid weapons! NO—

I almost broke down sobbing, but though my vision was blurred my eyes darted to the small red dot that suddenly appeared on Morning Bell’s coat. What? Despite everything my panic lessoned, and I found myself engrossed with this odd particle as it slid silently upward to rest on her swollen eyelid. What was that thing?

“Don’t kill it, yet, Morning. I want to repay it for what it did to me. What it almost did to my future.” Tulip said something. I didn’t quite register it. I was too focused on that dot. It calmed me somehow. Some part of my mind knew something about this. It was... a light. A red light. What... what made a light like that? Some fraction of a memory swam just beneath my conscious. I knew this. I could feel it. What was—?

The bullet gave only a whisper as it sailed over my head. It made only a bloody hole in her eye, but the back of her head exploded outward. Tulip shrieked as bits of brain landed on her, diving toward the court’s side door before Morning Bell’s body even hit the ground. Garlic gasped but didn’t move, and I watched in fascination and exaltation as the red dot moved onto him. He seemed to understand then, but it was too late. As he made to run another bullet whisked by, and he howled in agony as it burrowed through his knee. He hobbled onward, but a second shot sent him to the ground. He cursed and cried, but the one guard who showed up to help met the same fate as Morning Bell. I let out a sob of relief.

No. Not safe yet.

As Garlic tried to crawl away, I craned my neck back to see who my savior was. I timed it just right. In a flash of indigo, a stallion appeared before me. His coat was lush chocolate brown, with a mane of only a slightly redder color, and his eyes were the same sharp purple as the magic he used to levitate the massive weapon he carried with him. It was a rifle, longer than any I’d seen so far, and it looked to be cobbled together from a variety of weapon scraps. The handle was the same color as the stallion’s mane, the main body was metal overlaid with worn wood, the bulky sight was rusted, the barrel was a polished black, and the large silencer on its end was a greasy silver. A very familiar greasy silver. This was that thief Cathode and I had encountered before.

What was he doing here?

“Who are—?” I started. At my words he peered down, and the hard look on his face turned to one of confusion. He made to aim his gun at me, but when I flinched and threw my hooves up in front of my face he stopped. He looked me over for a second, and I expected him to say something, but he remained silent. I took note of his Cutie Mark then: A blue-breasted songbird, its beak open and wings outstretched, standing in front of a microphone.

In front of us, Garlic made another pained noise, and the stallion jerked his head back up to him. His eyes narrowed. Without glancing at me again, he levitated a healing potion out of his saddlebag and tossed it to me before proceeding over the line of corpses. I gasped with joy and caught the vial in my magic, pouring it over my wounds the moment I managed to get it open. He hadn’t just rescued me. He’d healed me! My heart swelled with relief.

As my injuries sealed themselves I turned to thank my savior, but he was already towering over Garlic, a knife joining the rifle at his side. The crippled buck blubbered something up at the brown stallion, but I was unable to make out his final words as the knife plunged down. I watched in fear as the stallion drove the blade into Garlic’s mouth, twisting it around with his magic. Garlic screamed, trying to escape, but the stallion held him down with a firm hoof. A moment later the knife was wrenched out, and the stallion relented. Garlic wretched, coughing out a deluge of blood, and there was a sickening wet sound as the tongue he once had splattered out with it.

The stallion smiled then, stepping back from Garlic as he languished pathetically on the ground before him, blood choking his sobs. He took a deep breath, clearly relishing the moment. I rose to my feet, stricken with horror, as the stallion pointed his rifle in Garlic’s face. He fired a final shot, straight through the plantation owner’s head, and he could do nothing but let out a scream that was little more than a muffled gurgle.

The assassin approached me, bathed in blood as I was, his rifle still at the ready.

I hesitated. When I first saw him I had wanted to embrace him, but now I was too nervous to so much as utter thanks. What he had just done to Garlic disturbed me. It reminded me of Raider cruelty. “What... was that? Who are you?” I asked. He opened his mouth as a reply.

He had no tongue. Things clicked.

“You one of his slaves?” I asked. The stallion nodded, smiling a grim smile. This had been vengeance. That I could understand. He had wronged me too. “Thank you,” I rasped, “For saving me.”

He nodded again, but this wasn’t the time for conversation. With a single hoof he pointed up toward the hills, and then mimed flapping motions at me with his forehooves. Then he was gone in another flash of indigo, not even waiting for me to reply. I got the message, and quickly flew up to the rooftop, intending to retrieve my saddlebags before going after him. I wasn’t sure that this was the right thing to do, but with my only source of love dead and my true identity exposed it would be madness to stay here. I might as well follow my savior.

I had moved just in time. The main force of guards was just coming back, having retreated. I guessed that Cathode had told all of them about the truce, but as soon as Garlic’s fate was known the plantation erupted into another bout of chaos. Ponies shouting, arguing, running back and forth, some fighting... I took advantage of the confusion to sneak into the barracks as a random guard and steal some supplies. I didn’t find much, just two more healing potions, a few potatoes, and one of my knives—the one from those first raiders—but that was enough. I really liked that knife.

I waited for a good moment, flew up to the roof, and then sailed over the fence to freedom.

Now, time to find out who this stallion was.

I was in the hills now, heading slowly in the direction my savior had pointed me. I wasn’t sure how much farther I had to go, but I figured that when I got close enough he would alert me to his presence. If not... well, this direction was as good as any other. I did want to find him, though. I wanted to talk to him. Ask him why he had saved me. He must have seen me kill those other ponies. He had been shocked at what I looked like. So why did he help me? Did he know about changelings? Did he think I was some sort of mutated pony? Either way, he should have thought of me as a monster. So why didn’t he kill me?

I sighed in frustration. This must have been how Spare Parts felt. He’d saved my life, after every instinct I had told me that ponies hated me, and, as far as I could tell, he’d done it for no selfish reason. He could have waited for Morning Bell to finish me off. Or for Tulip to get her revenge... I felt something stir inside of me. I was truly grateful for him, I realized. I owed him my life.

Anxious to meet up with him, I hefted my knife in the air before me, testing the limits of my newfound telekinesis. I gave it a few swings and twirled it around, imagining the ways I could use it in battle now. Battle... Some part of me still hoped I would be able to find someplace where I wouldn’t have to fight, someplace peaceful where love would bloom, but my experiences so far contradicted that. I would just have to get used to this violence. I was already killing on instinct.

My thoughts were interrupted as the chocolate stallion materialized in front of me, his hair smoking. Teleportation must not have been his strong suit, I gathered. He flashed me a gorgeous smile, and then turned to the east, waving for me to follow. I did so eagerly.

“Who are you?” I asked again, “Why did you save me?”

He looked back at me questioningly. I was struck by the intensity of his eyes.

“Er, n-not that I’m not grateful,” I blurted, “It’s just that, uh, almost everypony I’ve met so far has tried to kill me... so, uh, this is odd.”

In response, he stood up on his back legs and made an intricate series of motions with his forehooves. He fell back onto all fours shortly, and then raised his eyebrows at me.

“What?”

He mimed an exaggerated sigh, and then opened his mouth again, pointing at his lack-of-tongue. He then pointed a hoof off into the distance before miming talking motions while sliding back and forth to imitate a conversation. When he was done he gave me another questioning expression. I think I understood.

“You can talk... somewhere over there?” I motioned to where he had pointed.

He grimaced for a moment, swirling a hoof slowly in the air, but then nodded. I smiled. I guess I’d been close enough.

Without another attempt at a word he continued on, and I immediately fell into step behind him. This was frustrating. I was grateful, but why did he have to be mute? I needed answers, dammit!

Our journey was silent, but not uneventful. As we made our way through the hills behind the plantation, we encountered a roaming pack of radscorpions. However, the stallion made quick work of them before they got close, leaving me feeling useless and more than a bit embarrassed at my lacking gun skills. Despite its size, he quickly maneuvered his rifle between targets, picking each hissing beast off with a single silent shot. The way he did it on two legs, with his gun in his forehooves, made it even more impressive. It looked almost like he was dancing.

Ugh... do not tell me this is going where I think it is...

Nothing else happened until we had left the plantation far behind us. The ground was completely flat again, and I saw we were approaching another worn highway, like the one that had connected Chard and Bulbs. This one ran south and north, and from the latter direction I noticed a collection of figures in the distance. The stallion saw them too, and ducked low to the ground, motioning for me to do the same. I waited nervously nearby as he peered through his scope. After a long while he scooted aside and shot me a questioning glance. I moved into the space he’d occupied and squinted an eye in front of the rifle.

I saw a group of ponies, all unicorns and all armored, marching steadily down the road. They were divided into two blocks, each pulling a cart of supplies in their midst. The first block was preceded by a line of three, one of which was carrying a banner of some sort. I couldn’t make out any more details, but something in the way they moved sparked a thought in my mind. They looked so ordered. Militarized. And they were coming from the north... The spiel Cathode had given me two days earlier rang again in my mind.

“Are they from New Canterlot?” I asked.

He gave a short nod, still looking toward the procession.

"What... what should we do?”

He stood up, shrugged down at me, and then slung his rifle across his back, continuing toward the road. I disguised as Boysenberry. I didn’t want any more ponies than absolutely necessary to know that a changeling was lurking about the land. My magic, however, elicited a shocked expression from the stallion. I quickly flashed it on and off to demonstrate my ability. He blinked at me, but seemed to understand.

I kept a careful eye on the approaching convoy.  If we had paused for a minute or so more, we would have intercepted them, but my savior didn’t stop. By the time we crossed the barren highway, I could hear the faint rumble of their carts and the echoing stomp of their hooves falling in step. I could also now make out the image on the vanguard’s banner as it waved steadily in the air.

It was a surprisingly detailed emblem: a giant steel sun, emerging from a churning sea of water. Below it, the froth of a dark tempest threatened to overwhelm that metallic shape, but though it was drenched it was clearly moving upward, toward a calm blue sky. The number ‘111’ was engraved on that sun.

“They came from Stable 111,” Cathode had said. Stables: another mystery.

I didn’t have time to ponder the sight. The stallion was moving faster, obviously wanting to put distance between us and what I now assumed to be the army of New Canterlot. Before long we were out of its sight, and the silence of our journey returned. With little to do but walk, no way to make conversation, and no scenery but dirt and the occasional dried shrub, I found myself staring at the tail of the stallion in front of me. Watching it move back and forth, back and forth... it was kind of hypnotic.

Yeah, sure, his ‘tail.’ Just don’t forget about me as you go chasing after it...

What?

I swore I had heard someone talk, but the moment I tried to focus on it there was nothing. I surveyed the Wasteland cautiously, fearing raiders. Nothing.

What!? Can you still not hear me? Dammit, if they—

Odd.

The peach red of late noon was working its way across the cloudcover by the time we reached our destination. I, undisguised again, could see it. An old building at the end of a long narrow strip of concrete that had a few lines of white paint still barely visible on its surface. The strip was almost half a mile long, and as we walked across it I could see scraps of metal and unrecognizable broken implements scattered about. Odd, that they hadn’t been scavenged yet.

We had been going at a steady pace, but as we neared the end of the concrete my savior motioned for me to halt. He stuck his muzzle into his saddlebag, searching, and I took the opportunity to scrutinize the structure we faced. There was a doubled door some distance in front of us, with the letters ‘NEARS’ fading above it. It was a single story except for the tower near its western edge that blossomed into a boxy globe at its top, with many windows. The whole complex was not even a quarter as large as Bulbs, but in the midst of this empty wasteland that tower was an impressive sentinel. I wondered why nopony had taken advantage of such a strategic structure, but at that moment the stallion I was following had found what he’d been looking for. He pulled out a small metallic device with a large red button, and pressed it with his magic. It glowed for a moment, and then a chorus of loud beeps sounded from the ground in front of us. I jumped at the unexpected noise.

“What was that?” I demanded.

The stallion gave a silent laugh and trotted forward a bit, digging at a the ground for a moment. He levitated up another metal object, this one circular, and an image of a great explosion flashed through my memories.

Mines.

I guess that answered my earlier question. This stallion, whoever he was, must have this place pretty secure already. I trotted forward cautiously, following as he walked toward the building. I expected him to go through the entrance, but instead he trotted off in the direction of the tower. There was a pile of wooden pallets stacked up below an opening to what was once a vent in the side of the wall. The stallion hopped up, motioned for me to follow, and then started to squeeze himself in.

“Couldn’t we just use the door?” I asked. I didn’t want to have to crawl through an air duct. So little space. The walls so close. Already I was starting to breath shallowly.

The stallion shook his head vehemently at my suggestion, then made a slashing motion across his throat. Maybe he had the door booby-trapped? Weren’t mines enough? He returned to the vent, and pushed himself all the way in, disappearing from sight. I shuffled back and forth on my feet, stalling in fear. Small spaces. I didn’t need more small spaces. That stairwell in Bulbs had been enough. Maybe if I flew around I could find a window? But then I wouldn’t know where he had gone, and what if he had this whole place booby-trapped? I hardly understood how mines worked, who knew what other sort of devices might be laying around? Maybe I could just leave? No—I wouldn’t dare. This stallion had saved me, and I still had so many questions. If I left now I’d have no direction to go in, and I’d be back where I’d started. I didn’t expect to get love out of this venture, but some answers would be more than worth the effort.

Finally, I dragged myself up to the duct’s entrance and stared down into the long, dark chute. The long, dark, narrow, chute. I gulped, steeling myself, and pushed my way in.

It was dark. Confined. I crawled as fast as I could managed, my saddlebags squished into my sides. The Survival Guide was digging painfully into my gut, but I couldn’t adjust it. I could only go forward. Into the darkness. Pulling back with my forelegs, pushing forward with my hindlegs. Move forward. Don’t think about the dark. Just don’t think about it. The air was hot. It pressed in on me. I could only go forward now. I could not back up. I could hear the stallion moving, the clank of his hooves on metal echoed down. I tried to catch him. I could not go faster. I had to focus on him. He knew where the exit was. He could get me out. But there was no room here. It was like a tomb. A coffin. I could not see the end and could not go back to the beginning. I was stuck. Trapped. I wanted out. I needed out. I kept moving forward, muscles aching as I tried to crawl faster—to drag myself forward faster—but still it was dark. I felt the walls around me—too close! Too close! I needed out! Out! Out! Out—!

Calm! Calm!

I stopped, wheezing loudly in the tight space.

Calm. Calm.

I forced myself to take a deeper breath. To hold it, and let it out slowly. I couldn’t let this get to me. It was only an air vent. There was space outside it, space I could fall into. I thought of the empty rooms below and the open sky locked up so far away. I filled my mind with those images, trying to remove myself from this place, and kept my breath steady and even. My panic began to subside. The darkness around me let my mind’s eye overcome my other senses, and after a while the visions of openness instilled calm inside me once more. I continued on.

It was quiet here, and quiet in my mind. Now that I was in some control of my claustrophobia, the silence of this place was finally registering. Only it was not silent. There was a soft shuffling sound coming from below me, from below the air duct. I listened closer, and realized it was the sound of breathing. Soft and ragged, like a dozen ponies all wheezing out their last breaths over and over again. A new fear swept through me as I realized why we hadn’t gone in through the door. There was some sort of creature living here. Something horrible. Something not even the impeccable marksman in front of me dared face. What could it be? I shivered, trying to keep my mind from conjuring up answers to that question.

Ignore it, I told myself, it couldn’t get to me up here. I was safe. Yet on it went, almost imperceptible, that deathly breathing.

I squealed with joy when I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I scurried forward as fast as I could managed, and tumbled out the vent, landing solidly on all my feet. Light! Open air! I was smiling with relief. The journey had not actually been that long, but even those few minutes of stress had been too much. I never wanted to do that again.

“You finally back, Rolling?” A female voice. I focused on my surroundings.

We were in a... what was the word? Think, think... Laboratory! Yes, that’s where we were: an old laboratory. It was small, but was packed full of... objects of science, I guess. Books, files, small models of machines I didn’t know the names of, and a dozen other things I didn’t have time to take in. A skylight gave the dusty room a faint glow, while a candle burned softly on a nearby desk. There were also two blackboards at the front of the room, near where we had emerged, and they were chock full of numbers and letters that I didn’t understand. A door, slightly ajar, was near the edge of one, and it was from there the voice had emerged. It was followed quickly by the sound of hoof steps, and then it’s owner. Our eyes went wide when we saw each other.

“What is that!?” we screamed in unison.

This... this couldn’t be a pony. It had the form of one as I did, but where bright fur should have been only greyed decaying flesh remained. A lab coat that was perhaps once white clung to her skin in tatters, the fraying fabric seemingly graphed to her at its edges; it also covered the space her Cutie Mark would be. She had only a few wisps of hair left on her skull, and not many more in her tail. Her eyes were sunken and watery, and the teeth left in her mouth were all a rotting yellow. Just the sight of her brought a fetid smell to my mind.

The stallion stepped between us just as I pulled out my knife, pressing his rifle into my chest. I opened my mouth, shocked.

“Rolling...” the should-be-dead pony said again, “What... who is this?”

He didn’t respond. He was too busy staring me down. In my panic I had almost leaped on that thing, intent to kill it. But if this stallion was protecting it... maybe she wasn’t the monster she looked like. I slowly levitated my knife back into my saddlebag, and Rolling—it was so good to finally have a name attached to that face—relented, setting his weapon on a nearby stack of textbooks.

He stood up on his hind legs then, making another series of hoof gestures at the undead mare like he had done toward me earlier that day. She nodded in understanding, which made me frown. Was he... speaking with his hooves?

“Really?” she asked, raising the remnants of her eyebrows. More gestures. “Ha! Well, that’s one less bastard in the Wasteland. What about him?” She pointed at me. More gestures. “Well, that’s very selfless of you, and no, I don’t know either, but why?” Gestures. She let out a small chuckle. “And I thought my eyes were bad...” Rolling frowned, his motions turning briefly violent. “Relax, it was just a joke!” More gestures, and the mare’s face turned stoic. “He did what? I see...”

Finally, Rolling returned to all fours.

“Who... are you?” I cut in, still unnerved at the sight of this pony. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My name is Pitch, and are you telling me you’ve never seen a ghoul before?” the mare snarked.

“Ghoul?” The word tasted familiar, but sparked no memories.

“Yes, ghoul. This is what happens to ponies who absorb too much balefire radiation... when they don’t die from it, that is. I’m surprised you haven’t seen us before. Rolling tells me they’re quite common in most areas. Or, zombies are, rather.”

“Well, I... might have. I don’t remember.” A brief silence passed between us. “But, um, why did he save me?” I asked, remembering the reason I’d came here in the first place.

“Oh, yes, forgive me. I’m sure you’re aching to ask as many questions as poor Rolling Stone here has been. It’s not often we find new monsters in the Wasteland.” I scowled at her words. “Especially those that are sentient.”

“I’m not a monster,” I hissed.

“Oh, of course, sorry,” she stuttered, “Do you have a name for yourself, then?”

“Yes, but first I want to know why Rolling bothered to save this ‘monster.’” I don’t think I liked this ghoul. I wanted information, not to be insulted for my appearance. Especially by somepony as ugly as her.

“Hmm, fair enough. From what he tells me, you were engaged in combat with some of Garlic’s henchponies when he spotted you through his scope. Is that correct?”

“Yes...”

“Well, he said you looked like you might be a slave trying to escape in the confusion of battle. It was quite fortunate the townspeople had their little revolt when they did, otherwise he might have been stuck in Bulbs for another week or two waiting for the right moment. He was seeking revenge, you see. He used to work for Garlic a few years ago, but accidently killed a small, but significant, portion of one season’s crop because he overwatered. It was a rather minor thing to lose your tongue for, but Garlic, shortsighted bastard that he is, decided that would be the best punishment for somepony who’s special talent was singing.” She glanced at Rolling, but he turned away with a doleful look then, trotting through the door she had emerged from earlier.

“Right... anyway, he told me that he mistook you for a normal pony at that distance, but when he saw what you really looked like it didn’t matter. He said he didn’t care about anything but finishing off Garlic at that point. Didn’t matter what you looked like: if Garlic was trying to kill you, then you were probably worth saving. ‘Enemy of my enemy’ and all that jazz. That satisfy you?”

“I guess...” For now.
 
“I’m glad, but now I’d like to ask you a few questions of my own: what are you, and why did you follow Rolling back here when he couldn’t possibly tell you anything about himself?”

I hesitated. Should... should I tell her? She seemed knowledgeable, or at least willing to talk, but if she grasped at my true nature... “Well... I was curious, I guess. Ponies haven’t done much but try to kill me since I got here,” I replied, avoiding the first question.

“I don’t blame them. You’ve quite the intimidating visage. But again: what are you?” She leaned forward, insistent, almost smiling at me. I wasn’t getting out of this, but would it be wise? The more ponies who knew about me, the worse my chances of duping them would be. However, I wasn’t looking for love from this mare in the first place, and too many already knew about my true nature: Boss. Tulip. Potentially the whole of Bulbs now... One isolated ghoul couldn’t hurt me any more.

“Changeling. I’m a changeling.” I tensed. Just in case.

“Changeling? Ah!” I saw a spark of recognition in her eyes, and she gasped with joy. “Of course! How could I have forgotten? That makes perfect sense. Fascinating. I can’t believe you’re still around. You know, I hear the MoA was always quite envious of your abilities—would have made infiltration much easier—and I know at least one MAS project was trying to replicate your magic. Never did hear any details, though—too busy with my own research...”

“You’re not... angry?” I asked. I had been expecting some sort of counterlash, not this... excitement.

“Angry? Why would I be? That little wedding crash of yours was nothing compared to what the war did to us, and besides—everypony I loved is dead; you’re harmless to me! Now, I just want to learn more about you. I thought changelings were extinct by the end of the war. How have you survived? Where’d you find enough love in this terrible place?”

“That’s, um, a long story...” One I still didn’t know myself.

“Oh that’s not a problem. I’ve got all the time in the world, and I’m assuming you don’t have much else to do right now, do you?” Boy she was persistent. I grimaced, wondering what to say.

“Why... why do you care so much? Shouldn’t you hate me?” I asked. From the moment I was conscious, every fiber of being told me that ponies hate me. Every ounce of instinct warned me against exposing myself to them. They were prey, we the hunted predators. That Rolling Stone had saved me was baffling enough, but now this mare seemed genuinely curious about me and... almost friendly, despite the fact that my first reaction would have been to attack her had my savior not stepped in. I didn’t understand her acceptance.

“Hmm.” The mare sighed slowly, the sound reminding me of that noise I’d heard in the vent. “You don’t know anything about ghouls, correct?”

“Yes...”

“Well, we’re immortal, effectively. We can still be killed like anything else, but so long as we’re left alone we’ll keep going on indefinitely. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” I nodded. “Yes... but here’s the catch: our minds don’t get any insurance. I wasn’t the only one ghoulified here by the balefire bombs. Many others were too, but... for one reason or another... they didn’t stay sane. Their minds started to deteriorate. They became beasts. Then less than beasts. ‘Zombies,’ I’m told they’re called. They’re mindless monsters who attack anypony who wanders near them until they’re finally put down. Doesn’t matter who you were before you went zombie. Mindlessness has one face.”

“I’ve lived for a very long time now, thanks to this condition. As I said, I’ve lost everyone I love. Everyone I knew. Even the others who’d been ghoulified eventually succumed to mind rot. It’s a terrifying experience, watching ponies you’d known for years become animalistic monsters. It shook me to my very soul. Every day I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up myself. I was afraid I’d join them in their mindlessness...  I’ve been alone for so long; even Rolling I only met recently, and for a long while—and I mean generations—all I had was myself.”

“My curiosity has been the only thing that’s saved me. We had an archive here, and with nothing else to do I decided the best way to preserve my mind would be to expand it. Our back up generator still functioned, thank Celestia, and so I spent my years just... learning. Reading books and digital reports, re-reading them, conducting my own tests, memorizing some of the more famous scientific literatures... it was engrossing. Amazing. With all the time in the world I lost myself in the vastness of the universe’s complexity. By the time my computer’s screen finally went black over a century had passed, and I was brimming with knowledge. Another year and I had exhausted all the physical texts as well. As for experimentation... well, let’s just say there’s only so much physics you can do before you need a particle accelerator to make new progress. I’d worn out everything we had here after another decade.” She chuckled, but I didn’t get what was funny. “Anyway, if Rolling hadn’t stumbled upon this place after he escaped, I probably would have left to seek out something new to devote myself to by now, but with all the stigma and violence I’ve heard about... I have no combat experience, and though I’ve lived this long I’m not yet ready to risk my life out there.”

“So that is why I ask," she concluded, "I’m curious, and I need something new to learn about so I don’t go insane. You’re new, and you’re a huge unknown. So, care to tell?”

Well, that was more than I bargained for. I mulled over everything she’d dumped on me. I was a curiosity to her. I was interesting. She didn’t hate me for what I was—she didn’t know what I was, really, beyond a name and some abilities. She wanted to understand me, I realized. That was truly all she wanted.

“Alright. I’ll tell you my story,” I said, “but only if you answer some of my questions.”

“Questions?” She furrowed her brow. “About what?”

“Everything.”

A sly grin emerged onto her face. “Deal.”

Footnote: Level up.
New Perk: Telekinesis (Level 1) - You can’t do much, but a little goes a long way. You can now lift Light objects with your magic. +1 to Small Guns.