//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Imprisoned 
// Story: Far Cry: The Tale of Tinker 
// by Hazard 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 3
Imprisoned


Chapter 3
Imprisoned

When I came to, the world was so black I thought I had lost my sight. Temporary panic gripped me, but lessened as I realized there was a cloth over my head. As I moved to pull it off, my hooves came up short, bound and tied together. Panic returned in full force as memories flooded back into my mind. My face, resting on the ground, was still sore where the bat had struck me.

“Oh look, this one's comin' round.” a nearby voice said over the hum of an engine.
“We can't have that just yet,” said another voice from my left. “Hit him again.”
Fighting my restraints, I tried to cover my head, to no avail. Suddenly my world lit up like the sun as the bat struck again and everything went dark once more.

Waking a second time, I made sure not to attract any more attention by struggling fruitlessly. Sunlight was filtering through the cloth on my head now, It felt like I was in the back of a vehicle. As it drove over a rock, the impact lifted me off of the floor momentarily, before gravity’s  effect returned. The impact was painful, but somehow I managed not to cry out. Another pony nearby was less fortunate, grunting at the impact.

“I think they's wakin' up.” came a rough voice from nearby. I recognized it as the same one who had hit me earlier.
“It makes no matter now. We're almost at the gates.” came a second voice. It seemed he was the one in charge. Soon after, the truck came to a stop and the same pony addressed some others farther away.
“What have you got there, Roadrash?”
“Three more survivors from the airship.”
“Well I'll be dammed. Here I thought we'd gotten them all already.”
“These three were on Buckleg beach.”
“Really?” the second voice sounded surprised. “What condition?”
“One good, two fair.”
“They's real lucky then.”
“Not so lucky after all.” I couldn't see his face, but I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.
“Alright then.” the pony on the gate said. “let 'em in!"
As the gate screeched, the engine revved again and the vehicle lurched forward. As the truck passed under the gate, the sun was temporarily blotted out. The gate screeched shut once more. I could hear the sounds of wherever it was they had brought me. The camp sounded chaotic. Reinforcing this was the stench. The entire camp reeked of decay and feces and a lot of other smells I didn't want to know the names to. My panic came back in full force as I struggled to get up. I actually managed to get my front hooves underneath me before the blow came. Something solid connected with the side of my head on the left, then again from the right. As I struggled to balance, a vicious kick caught me in the ribs, knocking me into the side of the truck bed. A flurry of hits followed close behind, so rapid I couldn't distinguish between them. I tried to curl into a ball to fend off the worst blows, but my restraints didn't allow for much movement. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, someone stopped them.
“Alright, that's enough. Let's not damage them too much before we've gotten our price.”
Had I not been struggling through a haze of pain, those words would have terrified me, but as it was, I was too afraid of another blow to even consider what he had said.
“Alright. Get those hoods off of them and get them into sorting.” the same voice that had just stopped the beating ordered.
The light that stabbed into my eyes once the hood was removed blinded me temporarily, and brought with it a fresh wave of pain in my head, subsiding only when my eyes adjusted. Blinking blearily, I took a look around and realized I had only been partially right about the camp. There was some semblance of order amidst the chaos, but several ponies appeared to be intoxicated, and several more were simply standing around. Even as I watched, an argument broke out and a beating ensued. They had their own brand of discipline, it seemed. Of course, as I processed this, it hit me. If they would do that to their own comrades, what awaited prisoners? A sudden jolt brought me sharply back to my own situation, as a pony armed with a magical prod ushered the three of us towards a large ramshackle building.
“That wa' jus a warnin'.” he said, “now get yer plots in there, or I'll hit ya again!”
Only then did I notice that one of the ponies ahead of me was Firestride, limping noticeably. The pony ahead of him was less fortunate. The remnants of a purple uniform covered his tattered grey coat, which was red in several places from open wounds, and when he looked back, I could see several cuts on his muzzle, but that wasn't the worst of it. His wings were both badly broken. He suddenly made a break for it, bowling over the guard on his left and bolting for the nearest exit. As he picked up speed, he spread his ruined wings and flapped. After two flaps, he left the ground...and then came crashing back down. His wings, while still apparently capable of lift, could not control his flight.
Guards rushed to him where he lay and began beating him right then and there, focusing on his already ruined wings.
Other ponies nearby began cheering the guards, and a few even joined in on the beating. Gulping, I looked away, back to the building we were being taken to. I wanted to help, but part of me knew it would only make it worse for both of us. I could only pray they didn't kill him. As Firestride and I entered the dark building, the sounds of the beating faded and new ones greeted my ears. Somewhere up ahead, a pony with a strange accent was talking, but I couldn't quite make out their words. After a pause, a spine-chilling scream came from the same direction. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a door made of iron bars, with dim light filtering into the entryway from behind. The smell was overwhelming in the confined space, but I couldn’t tell if it was from our captors or something else. One of the guards brought out a key and unlocked the door before leading the two of us through. Once we were past, the door was shut with a resounding clang. This new room was far bigger than the one we had just come from, and looked to take up the majority of the flimsy structure. We were led to the center of the hard-packed floor where a dim, flickering light and rusted holes in the ceiling provided the only illumination.

“Well well well, some fresh meat,” came that same oddly accented voice from somewhere above and ahead of us in the darkness. “They said three more, but I only see two?”
“The third is outside getting grounded, he'll be in shortly.” the guard on my left replied.
“There's always a few who think they can get away. Try not to kill this one. Pegasi are only valuable if they're alive. If this one proves less trouble than that mare we brought in, we'll probably keep him instead.”
“Don't worry boss. I told them it'd be them in the pits if they killed another captive, especially if it had wings.”
“Good, but send somepony out to be sure.”
“Sure thing boss,” the guard said, turning to the pony with the magical prod. “You heard the boss, now go!” As the latter turned to leave, the guard continued “I mean it! That cream-coated bitch is more trouble than she's worth.”
That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I had feared they had caught her, but hoped otherwise, particularly given her occupation. Now, that hope was dashed. I took some small comfort in that she had put up a fight, but it was fleeting solace at best. My thoughts were interrupted as that strange voice once more spoke, this time addressing Firestride and I.    
“Now, what do we do with you two?” he asked. “I can see you're both unicorns, so that's a bonus. Not as valuable as pegasi, but better than dirt ponies. You there, with the brown coat. What's your talent?”
“I-I... umm...” I said, too shaken to form a proper sentence.
“Hey Cuffs, see if you can refresh his memory.”
The blow nearly knocked me off of my hooves, and the follow up finished the job.
“There, that should do it.”
As I lay there, Firestride whispered down to me “Just play along. Save yourself the bruises, I have a plan.”
“Get up, meat!”
Getting back to my hooves, I tried to compose myself as the question came again.
“What is your talent?”
“I-I fix things.”
“Well now, that's a start. What kind of things?”
“Small things, c-complex things.”
“Well gentlecolts, I think we've got ourselves somepony not completely useless here,” that strange voice said, bringing chuckles from a few of the guards. “We might be able to work him on the equipment. Maybe even the weapons, if he proves himself. Do you have a name?”
“Tinker.”
“That's 'Tinker, sir' to you,” the voice said sternly. “You belong to us now, don't forget that. Now then, how about the black one?”
“My name is Firestride and my talent is fire.”
“Hmm... not quite as useful, but still valuable. Might be he'll make a good show in the pit. Take them away for baggage claim.”
“Baggage claim?” I thought to myself. That made no sense.
“Hey Cuffs,” the guard on our right said as they led us from the room. “Don't he look like that black mare we brought in las' night?”
“You know, he does. I hope they're related. It'll make it that much sweeter when we break her.”
Fire said nothing, but the look in his eyes was all I needed to know. Some of the guards noticed too, and their grins only got wider. As we passed through the doorway, the shoddy metal walls were replaced by older, more orderly wood as I realized we had passed into a different structure entirely. Then, we took a right turn, and came into what was probably the most civilized-looking place I'd seen so far. Civilized, of course, was a relative term, but we had entered what looked like it had once been a hotel hallway. Doorframes marched into the distance at equal distances on both sides. Only a few rotting patches of carpet dotted an otherwise bare wooden floor. It was poorly patched in places, and stained with things I didn't want to name. The walls weren't any better. Cracks and water stains dotted them, but were nearly lost among the filth, graffiti, and crude depictions drawn in what looked like the same stuff that was on the floor. The hall was lit by an aging string of work lights crudely hung from the old gem light posts in the wall, with only a few of them actually working. The doors themselves had long since been removed, and most were replaced with crude iron bars. Peering into one as we passed, my stomach dropped. They were using the rooms as cells, and conditions inside were even worse than in the hall. The next room looked to be filled only with trash, until one of the lumps inside shifted and opened its eyes, locking them with mine. If the stench outside had been bad, it was hellish in here.
Moving on, the doors became less and less haphazard. The cells improved, but were still horrid. Near the end of the hall, one of the guards stopped and poked his head into the nearest cell.
“Hey, wake up, you cunt. My jaw still hurts and I want me some payback.” Suddenly, he jerked his head back as I caught a flash of movement inside. “Ohh? Still got some fight in you, eh? Good. It'll be fun breaking you.”
“Nails, there'll be time for that later." the guard leading us said. "Let's get these two sorted first.”
At the far end of the hall, we took another turn, leading down a dingy flight of stairs. At the bottom, we were greeted with a scene only slightly less messy than the one above, the main difference being that we were in what appeared to be a lobby instead of a hall. Briefcases and saddlebags were piled haphazardly around the floor. Many near the edges were opened or broken, their contents spilled or removed. The pile in the center seemed less damaged and worn than the others. Then, I saw some that looked familiar among the pile, and realized these were bags from the Tornado.
“Duff! Duff, where are ya, you mangy-mane bastard?” the lead guard yelled. “We got two more for claims!”     
“Hold yer horses,” a muffled, agitated voice said from somewhere ahead of me. One of the piles shifted as a dirty gray pony with a brown duffel bag for a cutie mark emerged. “Do you gotta yell so loud? I can hear just fine.”
“Not through all the cobwebs in your head, you can't.” Duff nickered at that.
“They could hear you all the way back in Equestria with a voice that loud.” he replied gruffly. “Now, who do we have here? You first,” he said, gesturing to me. A shove by one of the guards pushed me forward.
“What's your name, sonny?”
“T-tinker, sir.”
“Ha! Sir, he says. Look, sonny. I ain't no 'sir.' Just Duffel, or Duff for short. Not that it matters. They always say sir, when they speak at all. Now then,” he said, looking me over “Can you see your bags in the pile there?” I scanned the pile nervously, then pointed with my hoof. “That one.” Duffel looked where I was pointing, then proceeded to clamber up the pile and pry the bag out.
“This one?” he asked, holding my damaged and dirty bag up.
“Yes.” Nervous as I was, I was also puzzled. Why go to the trouble of giving us back our bags if we were captives?
Duffel picked his way back down the pile and gave the bag to Cuffs.
“So,” Cuffs said, approaching me with my bag held across his back, his front hoof looped through the strap. “This is your bag, huh?”
“Yes.” The blow came without warning. My bag struck me across the face with more than enough force to knock me sideways.
“No, I don't think it is.” he said advancing on me where I lay on the floor. As he reached me, he pulled his hoof back for another swing. “You. Own. Nothing.” he said harshly, punctuating each word with a hit. These ones I at least was expecting, but they still stung. Stopping his attack, he spoke once more. “You are a captive, a prisoner, and a future slave. You'll never own anything ever again.” His tone was colder than the concrete floor beneath me. Turning to the other guards, he spoke again. “Get him up and get this bag sorted. I'll take care of the other one.” He dumped the bag at their hooves and walked back to where Firestride and Duff were standing.
As the guards ripped my bag open and began rifling through it, Duff went through finding Firestride's bag in the pile. A realization struck me then; we had been among the last ponies captured, but the pile still retained quite a bit of size. Even accounting for the second airship, there were quite a few unclaimed bags.
“Hey, Cuffs, check this out!” one of the guards sifting through my bag had something held in his hooves. Looking over at it, I saw it was a picture, and not just any picture. A cream-coated mare with sky blue mane held her wing around a tan stallion, both with smiles.
“What?” the other pony said, coming over.
“This one and that cream bitch know each other!” he said, presenting the picture to Cuffs.
“Well, I'll be. It must be my birthday and nopony told me. We're gonna have some fun tonight, bucks!”
Dread crept through me. We had to get Slipstream and get out of here. If the tone of Cuff's voice was any indication, they would do unspeakable things to her just for kicks.
“What's this on the back?” Cuffs said, taking the picture. “'Thanks for the good times, Tinkerbell! Just kidding!' Ha! Tinkerbell! That's gonna be your new name!” Despite the situation, my cheeks flushed. Why did I have to take Slipstream to see one of Canterlot's greatest singers all those months ago?
“Ohaha! Tinkerbell!” he continued. “We're going to have fun breaking you and your little marefriend too.” Yeah, we really needed to get out of here, but how? Glancing past him, I saw that Firestride had avoided making the same mistake with his bag, but they had apparently thought of that too. Duff took his bag back to the pile, and then once again asked him which bag was his. When he again gestured to the same bag, Duff picked it up and hit him with it, repeating what Cuffs had done. Either he didn't have as strong a swing as Cuffs or Firestride had been expecting it, because he weathered the blow much better than I had. As the guards continued rifling through my bag, destroying a pocketwatch I had been working on for weeks in the process, another set of guards arrived, carrying the gray pegasus between them. Dozens of new cuts and bruises dotted his body, and one of his legs had joined his wings in being broken. Despite the wounds, he was still conscious and I could hear him moaning weakly in pain. The guards dropped him unceremoniously on the ground near Firestride, eliciting a sharp cry of pain.
“Dammit. Finish this up, you two.” Cuffs said, turning toward the pile and the pony moaning in front of it. “Alright, who's bright fucking idea was it to damage him this badly?”
“Sorry boss. Needle was chemed up again. He did most of this. Damn near started swinging at us too.”
“That fucker needs to learn when not to dope up. I'd tell you two to go teach him a lesson, but he's probably forgotten the entire thing already. If the doc can't get this sorry pile back into something resembling a pegasus, it's coming out of your hides, got it?”
“Yeah boss.”
“Duff, you done with that one yet?”
“Oh, yeah. He's all yours, Cuffs.” came the gruff response.
“Good, now get started with 'flight risk' here. I'm taking these two to their rooms. Hey,” he said, now looking at the guards who, done with my bag, were rummaging through Firestride's. “You and Nails, come with me.”
“But, the bags,” one replied.
“Fuck the bags for now. They'll still be here when we're done. Right then, Tinkerbell,” he said, turning to me with a smirk. “Let's get you to your room.”
We were led back up the stairs past a boarded up window I had missed the first time. Sunlight slanted weakly through cracks between the rotten boards. Retracing our steps back to the hall of cells, we were led to one of the closest rooms on our left. As Cuffs fished the keys out of his pocket, a flicker of movement caught my eye, and my heart leapt. Across the hall, a cream-coated mare with a scattering of cuts and bruises spread over her face like poorly applied makeup was staring at me. Several emotions played across her face in the time it took Cuffs to pick out the right key, including anger and sadness, but I saw hope in those eyes as well. Gesturing to herself and then to me, she mouthed the words “I love you.”
Noticing the smile that had crept onto my face, the guard called Nails cuffed me over the side of the head. “What's got you so happy, eh?”
“N-nothing.” I replied nervously, glancing past him across the hall.
“Nothing, eh?” he asked, turning to where I had looked. “Well, so it is nothing. Kinda like you, hehe. ” As the buck's head shifted out of the way, I could see that Slipstream had disappeared, leaving only a dark doorway.
“Aha! There it is,” Cuffs said, selecting a key with a flourish. “Room 66 for you two.”
Glancing at Firestride, I saw him looking sidelong at the key. “Welcome to the Hotel,” Cuffs said, shoving us inside with a smirk. Slamming and locking the door behind us, he continued. “Enjoy your stay.”