The newest chapter is in production now. Here is a sample of it.

Freedom Fighter was preoccupied. To be more precise, he was listening to music. Vinyl Scratch had put an astonishing amount of dubstep on the tape she had given him.

It was mesmerizing to him, how the strings and drums sang along with the electric thunder and pounding of dubstep. It made his mind wander into fantasies and lift him into some sort of ethereal plane where the world did not matter, and all that existed was the constructs of his mind.

He had been listening to music for the past hour, long after everyone had went to bed. He could not sleep. His head would not allow him. So he managed to shut up the other guy by preoccupying himself with music.

Finally, after the last song on the tape ended, Freedom Fighter returned to bleak, hopeless reality.

He wistfully took the headphones off and pictured Vinyl Scratch sitting on a pillow across from him, eager for feedback. He imagined the long, jagged blue hair falling against her pearly-skinned shoulders as her vibrant scarlet eyes beamed with anticipation.

“Vinyl…” he said simply in his mind. He hefted the simple blue tape in his exposed metal hoof. “You're a true artist.”

He imagined her grinning with pride. The thought made his stomach churn.

“Thanks...for the music. It reminds me...of you.” He looked down, ashamed to look her in the eye. “I need it.”

He was naked; his bodysuit had been thrown to the side in a corner. The scar lines criss-crossed on his body and on his arms of flesh and metal.

“Look, Vinyl. I can't fall asleep. I need somepony. Could you…”

He imagined her getting up, walking around him, and hugging him from behind. He imagined her warmth, her smell. It was vivid, but it was not real.

Freedom Fighter hugged himself at the waist. His metal arm was cold. He was about to slump down and wrap himself in the thin rags when he heard rustling from the tent next to him.

He flicked his ears in annoyance at first. But as they persisted, he recognized the murmurs as Twilight's.

“No...Sunset...Come back…”

His heart came into his throat. It was still hurting her.

“Please...I don't want to go...come with...mmm…no...”

The massacre at the portal was still a wound. Twilight had received her first Black-Bladed scar. It would never go away.

Freedom Fighter then looked down at the multitude of scars that striped his body like a zebra. Dozens upon dozens. Score upon score.

He then instinctively stood on all fours and threw open the tent flap. He trudged in the dark cavern to the adjacent tent and made his way inside.

Twilight's tent had Starlight Glimmer and Spike as well, but it was a big tent. He had no trouble making his way to Twilight's bundle of oil-stained blankets.

She was shivering and scrunched into a half curl, the rags in a jumbled heap. Her mouth was moving on its own, mumbling and breathing in bursts. Her forehead was creased. A tear had leaked from her eye and was dripping on her snout.

Freedom Fighter crouched at her side and gingerly gathered the alicorn into his arms. His strength prevented her from struggling. Twilight mumbled a bit more and moved her head side to side.

“There, there,” Freedom Fighter awkwardly comforted her. He rubbed the muscles in her arms and back with his hoof of flesh. “There, there.”

She stopped her mumbling after a few minutes of this. After some time, she was lightly dozing, and Freedom Fighter was stiffly holding the princess as she slumbered away.

He settled her back down gently. Then he brushed aside a lock of her mane so her face was visible. He admired for a second how her nasal exhales brushed some hair under her face.

“I’ll take the scar you have away,” he muttered softly. He caressed her cheek again. “I've got plenty. One more won't hurt too much.”

He looked down on her face for a moment more. Then he turned and exited the tent.

Twilight smiled in her sleep.