An alicorn lost without purpose searches for her past.
Having lost much of her past, memories and purpose in life, Aurora Borealis stumbles upon the junkyard and its sole inhabitant Scraps. Having regained her name and desiring to find her past and place in the world, she begins to walk the paths of discovery. But what she finds and what impact she has may be more than she ever expected.
They say you can’t be lost if you don’t care where you’re going. But, they’re wrong. When you lose all sense of purpose and direction you can’t be anything but lost. Lost in the world, lost in time, lost in your mind. Spend long enough there and eventually you’ll lose everything. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and one which leaves scars on all those who know it. The scars help you remember what’s important, give you direction and purpose again.
But, I’m far ahead of myself. Lessons are rarely learned quickly, and this was one which came harder than most. I suppose I should start at the beginning. The day I woke up and really began to realize how much I’d lost. The first marker on a long, hard road. The day I met Scraps and first laid eyes upon Junkyard. Where it all began. This is my story, for better or worse, and I just hope someone else can learn from my mistakes.
*** *** ***
I was adrift amid the trackless wastes of the Equestrian Wasteland. Without reason nor purpose I walked endlessly across long abandoned ground, only the occasional lonely stack of bones torn by wind and rain to accompany me. Once I had been part of something larger than myself, I was sure of that, I had heard a chorus of voices in the distance which gave me direction and purpose. But now I was alone, no longer guided by a reason beyond myself nor given task or meaning. I don’t know how long it had been since the voices in my head had gone silent, only that one day I woke up to find myself alone in a world blasted by disaster. Some ineffable urge buried deep in my mind told me to travel, and so I traveled.
The day that changed my life was like any other, the sun’s brilliant light hidden behind thick clouds far above the wasteland which seemed to stretch on to infinity. The diffuse light gave the whole wasteland a dull grey coloration, making the colors of the world look washed out and sad even more than they would naturally. I walked in silence across the slightly rolling hills of what had once been beautiful plains, now the grass was shriveled and dieing from a lack of sunlight and an over-abundance of rain. The weight of my saddlebags made my hooves sink slightly into the damp ground with each step, leaving a faint trail which would be wiped away by the next rainfall. Had I been paying attention to where I was going I would have seen the junkyard long before I reached it, but with my head low and my mind empty I didn’t even realize it was there until my hooves crossed onto hard metal and I suddenly found myself climbing upwards on a gentle slope.
The sound of my hooves on metal shocked me enough to pay some attention to my surroundings. Though I still had no idea how I had gotten there, curiosity got the better of me and I walked slowly onwards. Up the slight slope of sheet metal and further into the junkyard. Walls composed of scrap metal and the broken remains of ancient machines filled my vision on both sides of the path. Limbs like those of the hovering service drones, the parts of a broken sky carriage and broken pieces of a destroyed suit of Steel Ranger battle armor were easily visible amongst the debris. Someone, or something, had clearly built this path through the wreckage which surrounded me and that thought drew me further inside. A chorus of thoughts filled my head, shattered and conflicting messages running through my mind, of the danger and interest and meaninglessness and confusion about this place. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice what happened next until it was too late to stop it, if so I suppose I owe my madness some small debt of thanks.
As I reached an open junction in the middle of the piles of wreckage four paths opened before me. I had only a few moments to appreciate the choice which the world had put in my path before a horrible sound filled the air. Metal crunching against metal and the hiss of superheated air filled the world around me as the walls began to tremble just slightly.
A bizarre looking machine crested one of the small hills of junk surrounding my position, carried along upon a dozen spindly legs supporting a massive rounded central hull like some gigantic metal spider or crab. Two of its legs raised into the air, one glowing a sickly green which lanced across the air near me, scorching the sheet metal just a few feet from my position.
*FZZZ-CRACK!*FZZZ-CRACK!*FZZZ-CRACK!*
The sound of those green bolts filled the air with an angry buzzing mixed with the horrible sound of holes being punched in metal. I moved to run only to find that one of my legs had become tangled in a piece of the debris which was strewn across the ground in this area. I’d been too distracted by the sights and choices before me to even realize it until that moment. Reflexively my horn glowed a dark purple as a shimmering shield solidified around me, guided largely by instinct and fear at what might happen next. The monstrous machine’s other arm began to hum slightly before a deluge of brilliant pink light lanced across the open space between us.
The first two bolts of magical energy broke against my shield, but the third punched through it and scoured along one of my wings, scorching feathers and flesh alike. I let out a wordless scream of agony at the feeling, wrenching my leg to try to get it free of the debris. Struggling I began to search for something, anything, I could do to save myself from this machine. As it drew closer I spotted something in the wreckage which might help me, if I could live long enough for the machine to get closer. I wrapped my shield more tightly around me, as best I could without really understanding how the spell I was casting worked.
*Bzzzzack!*Bzzzzack!*Bzzzzack!*
The sound of those pink energy beams filled the air again. The machine had stopped firing its green bolt-weapon, though I had no idea why. Thankfully that magical energy weapon wasn’t particularly powerful, and most of the shots were deflected by my shield or went wide of even my pinned form. The machine had been circling around me slightly as I waited for it to be in the perfect position. There! I reached out with my levitation magic, grabbing hold of a broken-off metal pole which was supporting a large portion of the wall behind the machine. My levitation had never been delicate or gentle, but it was strong, and so the sound of wrenching metal filled the junkyard for just a moment as the metal pole buckled and crushed beneath that field until it gave way, the wall tumbling downwards towards the machine like an avalanche of steel and gems.
The machine was swept up in the collapse easily enough, and I could see its long spindly legs ripped from it as it was dragged down the slope I had climbed to get into the junkyard, not moving. Unfortunately, that same slope meant that the path I had followed to get in was now covered in several tons of scrap metal, and while I might have been strong I certainly wasn’t going to be able to move all of that. With my wing scorched by energy weapon fire I wasn’t flying out either. That meant I had to go deeper and hope there was some other way to escape. But first I had to disentangle myself from the piece of metal which had hooked across one of my forehooves, which proved thankfully simplistic now that I wasn’t at risk of being shot.
Still panicked from the encounter with that machine thing, and worried there might be more in the direction it had come from, I picked the path to the far side of the split from where it had crawled up and began to gallop down the metal flooring. This, as it turned out, was a bad idea as the path only lead me further down into the junkyard. The metal surrounding me in every direction making even seeing the hills beyond nearly impossible. But I hadn’t seen any sign of more of those metal spider-things, so for a moment I entertained the idea that it had been unique and I was safe. Many of the conflicting thoughts in my mind warned me that was almost certainly not the case, whatever had created that thing was highly likely to have made others to guard this place.
The parts of myself skeptical about my freedom turned out to be correct as a moment later the ground under me bucked and heaved. The metal plating I was standing on shifted as a great mass moved under it forcing me to back up or risk being thrown from my hooves. Beneath the sheets was darkness as a form moved below, massive machine-claws reaching out from the shadows to attempt to grab me.
Backing away in panic I threw up my shield as best I could, but it was too late, the claw was already close enough to grab one of my forelegs and begin tightening. I could feel the bone break as pain lanced through that entire side of my body. A mass lurched from the darkness beneath the metal plates, this one rolling on large legs with some kind of heavy weapon mounted above a pair of huge pinching talons. It lifted me from the ground like a child might have pulled their toy into the air and hurled me into a nearby pile of junk.
The impact shattered my shield and smashed my already injured wing against hard metal, now I was certain it was broken. My vision was blurring badly, my head throbbing from injuries and expending more effort that day than I had in what felt like forever. The machine rolled closer, the multi-barreled weapon atop its frame beginning to spin up to speed. But I was already too far gone to even manage a cursory defense, consciousness beginning to fade as I heard a distant voice, half-drowned by the ringing in my ears, “... enough, bring her to the …” I blacked out without ever hearing the rest of the message.
*** *** ***
I could feel a gentle wind and hear the sound of laughter, the scent of fresh cut grass filled my nose as I stood somewhere I couldn’t really see. The runny almost water-color like world around me shifting and swirling as my mind teetered on the razor edge between wakefulness and sleep. I wanted to stay there forever, adrift in peace and purposelessness, happy if only for a brief time, but such was not to be. The sound of a hoof slamming into a metal table jarred my mind towards wakefulness as I heard the soft tinkling of something metal falling across other metal things. The sound of a distant female voice on the radio filtered through my half-comatose mind, “... again next time for more incredible stories from me, the Amazing-” the radio clicked off audibly as my host realized I’d begun to wake up.
I struggled to open my eyes, my body felt heavy and I knew I should have been in pain from the injuries I had received. My first vision of my surroundings a blurry mess of colors and lights. A soft buzzing-whooshing noise filled one of my ears as the world around me began to resolve into something understandable, drawing my attention towards it. Movement out of the corner of my eye made me try to move my head towards that sound, only to find that I couldn’t even lift my head from the pillow it was resting on, the numbness of my body pinning me down. The sound of drinking drew my attention back towards the table sitting before me, and the pony sitting on the far side of it, a bottle of Sparkle~Cola held in her teeth.
The pony’s coat would probably have been a beautiful blond color were she clean, but as it was she was stained darker by oil and accumulated grease. Her hooves stained darker than the rest of her body, making them stand out clearly as she rested one on the table before her. A short, braided, blue mane which some part of me insisted must be the color of an unclouded sky were it clean fell to one side of her shoulders. I couldn’t see her eyes, hidden behind a pair of metallic goggles strapped around her head, opaque black lenses making reading her expression difficult to say the least. I was quite certain she was looking at me, though, from the way she paused in her drinking as I opened my eyes. Above her a fan which looked like it had been welded together from a dozen pieces of scrap metal spun slowly, circulating the air in the room, most of which I couldn’t see from my current position.
The soft sound of glass against metal filled the relatively quiet room as my host set the half-empty bottle of Sparkle~Cola down, regarding me silently a few moments as though trying to decide what to do with me before finally speaking, “I don’t see many of your kind out here.” I grunted quietly, barely able to do more than that with the way my body felt, though she continued on as though she didn’t hear me, “Especially not one carrying so many supplies. Why were you carrying all that food and drink, anyway?”
Something in my head was confused about why she’d decided to start her questioning there, but I wasn’t going to complain, at least that was something I could explain, “... hungry …” my throat was almost as numb as the rest of me, making speaking difficult, “Thought I would... Be hungry... Never was.” the mare before me regarded me skeptically a few long moments but seemed to accept the answer, or at least that she wasn’t going to get anything better out of me for that question.
“Alright then.” Her voice sounded slightly annoyed, “How about we start with something simple then, like your name.” I opened my mouth to speak. I knew this should have been the simplest thing in the world to answer, yet when I tried to remember a cacophony of words screamed into my consciousness leaving my head swimming with confusion.
A moment which felt like eternity later I slowly answered her, “I don’t know.” She gave me another skeptical look, but the confusion on my face must have been obvious as she didn’t press the question, instead choosing to move on to others.
“Where are you from?” Again my mind filled with colors and lights and sounds, as though a hundred different answers swirled just beyond conscious thought, a riot of madness hurtling through my mind as though someone had packed my memories with high explosives and attempted to paint the interior of my thoughts with the detonation. It hurt even to try to think about those images.
“I don’t know.” I repeated, quieter than before. My host gave me a look of irritation but slowly it passed, I like to believe because she could see my pain at trying to answer, but it may simply have been out of expedience. Her questioning continued.
“How did you get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why were you traveling?”
"I don't know."
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
The questions continued for what felt like hours, each attempt to answer was answered in turn by my own mind betraying me until it became difficult to think about anything at all. Somewhere inside I hurt, those questions scraping against my mind painfully as I realized that I had no idea how to answer them. Each time I answered my voice grew quieter, less sure. Had I a world to fall apart around me, it would have been. Meanwhile, the mare across the table from me was growing more and more frustrated with the non-answers.
Eventually we came to the last, and perhaps most important, question she asked me that day. “Do you know what,” she dipped her head beneath the table to tug something from beneath it, tossing a construct of metal and glass onto the table, “This is?” the device skidded across the metal table briefly before coming to a stop hanging half way off it. The curved surface of the device was scratched and scuffed with years of abuse, screen a blank dark green field lacking any kind of light coming off it, the buttons were scraped and one of them appeared to have been forcibly removed. On the interior of the hollow cylinder of the device I could see the remains of padding, rotten and frayed with age and abuse, long ago worn away until now only tiny pieces remained to show it had once been built for comfort..
My mind swam with recognition on seeing the device, somewhere inside I knew it was important to me, and the fact that I couldn’t remember why only made the pain of the questions worse. “It’s a-” I paused a moment, searching my mind for the right word, “A PipBuck.”
I could tell even behind those opaque goggles that the grease-stained mare was surprised I recognized the device at all, drawing a smile to her lips, “Yes, a PipBuck. These things are pretty close to indestructible, too.” she reached out to grab the device in her teeth and pull it back to sit near her hooves, slowly swinging it open to look at something on the back of the screen, “That’s why I can’t figure out why somepony would go through all the trouble to etch something on THIS one, or why you’d be hauling it around with you all the way out here.” my mind swam with possibilities as she lifted the device on one hoof, focusing on whatever was inside of it, “It’s right here, etched into the metal, ‘Aurora Borealis’. I can’t imagine-” I didn’t hear the rest of what she was about to say.
The sound of those words echoed in my ears as my mind raced, the throbbing empty confusion from her prior questions thundered worse than before as the words she had spoken sunk in. Somewhere, far in the recesses of the madness of my past, it was as though someone had lit a candle. A guttering spark which cast long shadows across the swirling insanity around it even as that meaninglessness threatened to swallow it up again. A moment of recognition which made me want to smile, or cry, or both. Instead all I could draw forth the effort to do was speak, “A name... It’s a name... It’s my name.” My name, a piece of myself which was worth clinging to, the first road marker to my past. She looked at me incredulously, and I could hardly blame her, not more than five minutes ago I had told her I didn’t know my own name, after all.
“Why would your name be carved into the inside of a PipBuck? I mean, these things are almost impossible to damage short of high explosives as long as their spell matrices are still functional.” I was slowly beginning to regain feeling in my body by this point, the distant feeling of pain and ache seeping into my consciousness making her questions feel somewhat more dull than they had been, so I didn’t even have an attempt at an answer to that question.
Thankfully it seemed the question was more rhetorical than anything else, as she grunted a moment later, “Well it doesn’t matter that much I suppose. If it’s got your name on it it must have belonged to you at some point. Enough so that you or somepony else would feel the need to spend all that effort etching something like this into the casing.” she backed away from the table a moment and moved around to stand directly in front of me, lowering her head to eye-level, “It’ll be a few more days before you’re up and about, even with the rate you heal at. Tell you what, I’m running low on food and you made a mess of the main entrance to the yard earlier, so I’ll fix up that PipBuck for you if you’ll let me keep the supplies you were carrying with you. Oh, and promise not to try to incinerate me or something before you go.” I couldn’t even imagine trying to kill someone like her, well that’s not quite true, there were still parts of me insisting she’d wronged me with her robots before and deserved punishment. But, I was too weak and grateful to have even a sliver of myself back to seriously consider it. Slowly I raised my head from the pillow enough to nod before collapsing back onto it.
The mare grinned broadly in return, “Wonderful! A challenge! Just as a warning, I may have to reinitialize the spell matrix on this thing to get it working again, which means you’ll probably lose all the stored data it had on it before. But I’m sure I can get it up and running again!” she seemed absolutely thrilled at the idea of getting to work on the device, though at the time I couldn’t fathom why, she paused briefly as she got near the table where the PipBuck was sitting and turned back to me, “Oh, yes. My name’s Scrap Heap. Friends call me Scraps.” she paused a moment, “Then again, so does just about everypony else.” with that she laughed briefly before grabbing the PipBuck from the table and trotting out into another room. I decided to do my best to recover and closed my eyes to drift off back to blissful unconsciousness.
*** *** ***
Quiet darkness surrounded me for a timeless span as I rested, neither knowing nor caring what was happening around me. Eventually consciousness began to filter back into my mind, my body feeling heavy and aching but no longer filled with the waves of pain or numbness which had defined my world when I went to sleep. I opened my eyes to the same familiar room I had been in before and gradually began to raise my head enough to get a proper look around.
The room was lit by a small lantern connected to a magical battery pack, shedding a pale yellow glow across the room. I was laying on a padded medical bed as I began to get my legs back under me again. The bed itself was sitting a few feet from any of the walls of the room, situated such that the large metal work-table in the center of the room was easily visible by anyone laying on the bed. Briefly, I wondered if Scraps regularly captured new visitors to interrogate them, or if she’d rearranged this room just for me.
As I turned my head I spotted a window set into one wall which showed the exterior, the junkyard illuminated by lights held up on long posts casting a pale light across all the metal beyond. The sky above was dark, I’d been asleep long enough for the sun to have set and somewhere above I knew the moon was pouring pale light across too-thick clouds. I could see in the distance what looked like several small spherical objects floating on rapidly beating wings, far out near the edge of the junkyard. They were painted a dull silver, and were it not for the lights reflecting off them I probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all against the wreckage of the yard itself.
Back inside the room I began to climb down off of the medical bed, onto the badly stained ancient red carpeting which covered the floor, once probably a luxurious crimson now a dark blood-clot color. It crunched slightly underhoof which was a bit disturbing at first but that passed quickly enough. A set of large metal lockers sat against one wall on each side of a closet with an impromptu sign hanging from it labeled ‘Spare Parts’. In the corner between that wall and the wall with the window on it sat a currently-deactivated robot, the bulb-like body and long spindly legs making it clear that it had been constructed out of one of those old utility robots. This one, however, had a pink cross with a butterfly in the center stenciled onto the side of its central chassis, marking it as a medical robot of some variety. I could see where several extra legs had been attached to the machine, most likely by Scraps, though I couldn’t fathom why at the time.
Across the room from the medical bed, behind the large table, I could see shelves covered in unidentifiable junk. Salvaged pieces of disassembled machines from the junkyard beyond, and on one shelf what looked like a heavily reconstructed radio, currently turned off. The corner of the room between the shelves and the lockers was filled with a heavily patched sheet of cloth and cabling which hung limply open like a bowl, a somewhat grungy and stained hammock which I could only assume was where Scraps spent most of her nights. She wasn’t there at the moment, however.
I approached the door set into the final wall of the room. Beside it hung a chalk board which looked like it had been written on and erased regularly, some bits of left-over chalk gave me the impression that Scraps used it to help keep track of jobs in progress. As I got close to the door I could hear the soft sound of breathing on the other side in the silence of the room, only the slight squeak of the fan on the ceiling to disguise it. I grasped the handle of the door with my telekinesis and very carefully turned it before nudging the door open enough to peer through to the other side. I could see Scraps on the ground just a few feet away as I opened the door further.
The adjoining room was much smaller than the one I had come out of. Mostly taken up by the large counter which stretched almost the entire length of the room. The doorway was behind the counter compared to the other door I could see which I assumed lead back outside into the junkyard. Scraps had fallen asleep behind that counter, and on top of it I could see the PipBuck she’d taken earlier, along with a myriad of odd tools I didn’t recognize. It seemed she had worked herself to exhaustion trying to get it ready and had fallen asleep out here rather than risk waking me up. This was the first chance I’d had to see her cutie mark, as it had been well below what I could see while still on the medical bed, a silver wrench sticking out of a pile of random bits of metal. Despite the unusual design it seemed to suit her perfectly.
I paused briefly in my exploration to return to the other room and check the hammock to find a blanket resting inside. Silently I levitated the blanket back across the room with only the slight crunching of the carpet to mark my passing before draping it across Scraps’ body. While I wasn’t going to try to carry her to her bed, at least I could do something to help make sure she was comfortable. That taken care of my attention turned back to the room.
This room was much more plain than her workshop had been, the counter dominating most of the open space. Random pieces of junk sat here and there on the counter aside from the PipBuck and tools clustered around it. Behind the counter hung a much larger chalk-board than the one which had been in her work room, notes scribbled on it listing prices and raw materials she had in stock, including a note in a different color of chalk which read ‘Repairs available, ask for details!’. While the rest of the board was slightly caked with repeated erasure and replacement, that section looked almost pristine.
The rest of the room was mostly empty, just set of small dilapidated couches and chairs tucked against the far wall for ponies to rest in while they waited for Scraps to finish her work. A stack of heavily worn magazines sat on a small table nearby, something laid out to pass the time. Standing out from the rest was a larger, much more recently made, judging by the lack of wear and tear, book with a pony skull on the front of it labeled ‘Wasteland Survival Guide’. Somepony had stuck a yellow note to the cover of it with ‘Read this!’ scrawled across it in less than perfect hoofwriting. With Scraps still asleep and an unknown time until dawn, combined with the fact that while I no longer seemed to be seriously injured I was still achy and slow, I decided to sit down near those chairs and do exactly what the note suggested. Peruse the book for whatever information I could gain about the situation I now found myself in. Even if there wasn’t anything useful inside, at least it was better than being bored.
*** *** ***
It had been three days since I arrived at the junkyard, my wounds having finally finished healing with minimal use of magical healing supplies. That day saw me working in the Junkyard itself, helping pick over the remaining metal carcasses of long-destroyed machines for Scraps. She was in her workshop talking to me through one of her salvaged spritebots, painted in a dull grey color to match the metal of the junkyard. At the moment she was helping me pick through the junk for some materials she needed for her work.
“Not that one. The one on the left.” the crackle of the speaker conducted her mild annoyance remarkably well.
“Oh. Sorry.” I dropped the section of severed Steel Ranger armor I had been levitating and dug around in the scrap with a forehoof a few moments until I caught sight of the remains of a helmet which I yanked free a moment later, “This one?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Just bring it back in, I should be able to get the adaptor I need out of it.” With that I tucked the helmet into one of my saddlebags and spread my wings wide, taking to the air in a not terribly stunning display of agility as I soared briefly across the junkyard. I enjoyed the feeling of flying, but I wasn’t much good at it, only basic instinctual reflexes to prevent me from crashing. Thankfully for simplistic straight-line flight that was all one usually needed, and so a moment later I was standing outside Scraps’ workshop again.
Stepping inside I could see Scraps sitting behind the counter in the main room, my PipBuck connected to a small terminal system as she’d been working for the last day to get the magic matrix functional again. Prolonged mistreatment and lack of proper use had caused it to crash hard enough she was going to have to reinitialize it to production defaults just to get it running again. “So why do you need this thing anyway?” I dug the helmet out of the bag and placed it gently on the table.
Scraps just looked up to me with a grin, “Don’t you worry about that. It’s all very technical.” I got the feeling she just wanted to see whether or not I could find one of the helmets which was still intact in the yard, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud.
Scraps set about connecting cables to the helmet’s access systems and went back to the console, pausing after a few moments to grab the half-empty Sparkle~Cola bottle off the counter and down most of the rest of the contents, “Mmmm. Carroty.” she always looked happier after finishing a bottle of the soda, and I wasn’t going to deny her a simple pleasure like that. “The spell matrix is booting up now. It’ll have to realign with you when I put it back on, but you should have a functional PipBuck in a few minutes!” Her voice was filled with pride at that prospect, and not without reason. With what she’d said over the last few days, she’d repaired all the equipment she was using for this herself, rebuilt from the scrap of the junkyard.
The PipBuck chirped happily as its screen lit up brightly a few moments before settling back towards a more stable green color, flashing a generic ‘Stable-Tec’ logo on the screen. Scraps grabbed the PipBuck up in her teeth as she disconnected the wires from it and moved over towards me, dropping it on the ground, “Take your pick. Left or right. Just pick carefully, those things are a pain to get off again!” Snatching the device up in my telekinesis I carefully guided it over my left foreleg and locked it into place. The replacement padding which Scraps had installed in it fit snugly against my skin, molding autonomously to match the contours of my leg.
All at once my vision filled with strange symbols I didn’t recognize, leaving me confused and dazed a few moments, before they resolved into a more meaningful message. ‘Initialization beginning. Aligning medical spells.’ At first that didn’t make much sense to me, then I realized that the devices had been intended for use by Unicorns, Pegasi and Earth Ponies alike, and there wouldn’t be any way of knowing which type of pony would get them so it only made sense the medical spells were designed to self-align to their wearer. I wasn’t quite sure how I knew that they’d been designed for general use, but somehow I was confident that was the case.
After a few moments of the repeating message and the sign of a small pony in stable barding sitting at the edge of my vision bopping her head to the processes of the device my vision changed again. A wide variety of odd new overlays on my vision sitting just at the corners of my field of view, close enough to see but far enough that focusing on them was difficult. Scraps must have been able to tell my confusion about it all as she spoke up a few moments, “I’m guessing that your Eyes-Forward Sparkle must have just come online. Don’t worry too much about it, you’ll get used to the information after a while. It’s quite handy after all.” she gave me a reassuring grin which somehow just made me more nervous, “Just relax, if you’re right and that thing really does belong to you then you should still have some idea how to use it. I mean, it’s not like they’re particularly complicated on the user end anyway. ‘So simple even a child could use it without reading the manual’ was their slogan. Or something like that anyway!”
The insufferable positive attitude of my new friend was rubbing off on me, as for the first time in ages I was actually feeling positive about myself. I had a name! I knew somepony! Those were big moments for me, even though they must sound like the simplest thing in the world, “Thanks Scraps. This means a lot to me.” I gave her a smile and she just beamed in return.
“No problem Aurora. I’m just glad I got a chance to work on one of those things! Stable-Tec devices are really rare, after all. Especially way out here.”
That confused me a moment but I set it aside, speaking up again, “I found something else out there in the junkyard I was hoping you could help me with, actually...” Scraps looked at me curiously at that, she had sent me out there for parts, after all, and I don’t think she expected me to find anything else I cared about.
With a motion which felt so natural I only realized what I’d done after I’d finished doing it, I flicked on the inventory management spell of my PipBuck and dragged a disabled slave collar from my bags. Laying it on the counter I shuffled my hooves slightly nervously on the carpeting, “Do you think you could modify this so I could wear it?” the collar was made for a normal pony, which made it a bit too small to fit around my neck.
Scraps gave me a disbelieving look, “You know, Aurora, most ponies want to get these things OFF themselves. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one looking to get one put ON before.” she frowned heavily a few moments at the prospect, until I finally spoke up again.
“Please? It’s... It’s important. I don’t know why, I just know that I need it. It’s something I shouldn’t have forgotten, and I don’t want to let go of that feeling.”
She looked at me curiously another long moment before nodding, “Alright, if it means that much to you I can. This shouldn’t be hard anyway. I think I have everything I need in the back.” grabbing up the collar in her mouth she headed back into the other room.
A few moments of silence gave me a chance to familiarize myself with my newly acquired PipBuck. I was surprised to find that its medical spells registered both my horn and my wings properly, and even seemed to have identified the shield I had cast before. Whomever had designed this thing must have been a serious genius to have anticipated the potential necessity of such things. Scraps was right, though, the process of repairing the device had wiped away all of its prior history. The auto-mapping function, notes, even the name of its owner had been wiped clean and had to be started again. Were it not for the name carved into the back of the device there would have been no way to know this one belonged to me and not some other pony. Somehow that seemed appropriate, we had both lost our past in the process of being reunited.
Eventually Scraps returned, looking triumphant as she carried the enlarged collar with her, coming around to carefully secure it around my neck. I briefly considered complaining, but she had more technical knowledge than I could hope for. The collar was loose enough not to be terribly uncomfortable, but the weight of it hanging around the base of my neck felt familiar, comforting and nostalgic all at once. Scraps spoke up happily, “There you go, that should fit you just fine. I removed the internal gem structure too, just to be careful. The radio which would have detected signals had already eroded to the point I don’t think that it could have been triggered. But, better safe than headless, right?” she gave me a cheerful grin as I could only smile nervously. I honestly hadn’t considered that possibility, too caught up in another tiny piece of my past found amongst this graveyard of machines.
“Now. How about you come with me out to the east side and we’ll see about getting that utility robot out from under the crashed sky chariot. I think that one might still have a functional levitation talisman in it!” Scraps was obviously excited at that prospect.
I nodded my head, “Sure.” walking with her back out into the junkyard. I was happy to help her however I could, especially after all she’d done for me.
*** *** ***
Four more days had passed since I was reunited with my PipBuck properly. The robots of the Junkyard had finished cleaning the entry ramp finally. That morning found me standing side-by-side with Scrap Heap at the edge of the junkyard. Sunlight poured through the slightly thinner than normal clouds that morning as Scraps spoke to me.
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s a dangerous world out there, and you know I could always use the help.”
“I’m sure. I can’t stay here, not if I want to find my past.”
“The past is just-”
“-A road towards the future. I remember.”
Scraps and I had had this conversation more than once before as I prepared to leave. She’d lent me some medical supplies, mostly magical bandages and a few healing potions. They weren’t much, but they were better than nothing. I looked towards her and smiled a few moments.
“Hey, I’m a monster of the wasteland, right? So it shouldn’t be any trouble for me out there!”
She still looked skeptical, and I couldn’t blame her. I’m sure she was aware that my lack of functional memories meant that I could barely cast the most basic spells, and even those were fueled purely by instinctual reaction. She just gave a sigh and shook her head.
“Good luck then. There’s a settlement a few day’s travel from here, or at least that’s what the traders who pass through here tell me. I don’t think there’s much of anything between here and there worth talking about, so you should be pretty safe getting there at least. They might have some idea where to begin searching, or at least have something you can do for them. Just... Be careful, alright? A lot of ponies out there in the wastes aren’t as open-minded as I am, and I’d hate for you to get shot because somepony thought you were a monster.”
I nodded nervously at that prospect, it was one I had considered more than briefly. But I knew I couldn’t stay, and with the path clear and my wounds healed it was time to leave. I straightened up onto all fours with a smile to Scraps, “I promise I’ll come back and visit as soon as I can.” With that I began walking across the endless expanse of nothingness surrounding the junkyard. The scraggly grass waving slightly in the gentle wind around my hooves. I didn’t have much, but at least I had more than nothing.
Notes: Aurora Borealis (Level 1) Trait: Touched by the Sun - You are blessed with remarkable talents, making your inherent abilities significantly more impressive than most ponies. All of your SPECIAL traits are permanently increased by 1. However, this natural talent has made developing skills and training more difficult, as a result all your Skills begin 10 points lower (this can reduce a skill to less than 0%), and you gain 3 fewer Skill Points on level-up. Trait: Shadow of the Moon - More superstitious ponies may believe that you are cursed to bring destruction to everything you touch, and they might not be entirely wrong. You gain +3% critical hit chance on all attacks, but all weapons wielded by you decay 15% faster and all offensive spells you cast cost 15% more energy than normal. Origin: Unity Survivor - You were once a part of the Goddess’ Unity, having lost much of your sense of self and memories in the ordeal. You gain the standard Alicorn traits appropriate to your specific type. However, your level is immediately reset to 1, you cannot gain experience as long as you remain a full part of the Unity, you lose access to your Cutie Mark and have no Tag Skills nor gain any advantages associated with casting spells or making skill checks pertaining to your Cutie Mark until you manage to recover enough of your past self to reclaim it. Additionally you gain 10% less experience than normal, as the messy nature of your memories render future lessons more difficult than they would normally be. Spell: Shield of the Goddesses (Rank 1) - You have a basic inherent understanding of how to shield yourself from harm, allowing you to form a magical barrier which has DT 5 and 10% DR for any damage which penetrates it. However, any single hit which inflicts more than 20% of your maximum health will cause the shield to drop temporarily and require you to spend an action re-casting it. Spell: Unicorn Telekinesis - The most ubiquitous spell in Equestria. You can manipulate objects at a distance using your magic. Simple and efficient.
“A journey of a million miles begins with just one hoof fall.”
The first step is always the hardest. No matter where you’re going or what you’re doing, taking that first step towards what you want is always the hardest part. Many times once you take it things simply sweep you up and carry you further than you had ever imagined. Leaving Junkyard for the first time, deciding to try and find more of myself rather than stay there blissfully ignorant forever, was my first step.
At the time it filled me with a sense of dread and wonder in equal measure. I wanted to believe I had been someone worth knowing, that I wasn’t a monster of the wastes. But I still had horrible impulses, scattered memories of doing terrible things which danced at the edges of my consciousness. I took that step not out of courage, but out of fear. The fear that I’d never know the truth and that those memories would torment me for all time.
*** *** ***
The charred remains of an ancient forest spread out around me like a great skeleton clutching towards the hidden sun. Blackened boughs and decaying limbs hung upwards against the grey sky of the wasteland, stark even against the scattered sunlight which made it through the cloud layer. Once this place had been lush and beautiful, now it stood seemingly empty of any life at all, devoid of the sounds of birds or the scurrying of beasts.
I had been avoiding following Equestria’s pre-war roads during my travels towards the settlement Scraps had told me of. To most ponies I was little better than a monster, like a manticore only worse, and I wanted to avoid any unnecessary attention. Occasionally I had seen signs of a campsite along the road, where the caravans which traveled to and from the junkyard and other nearby settlements stopped, but I hadn’t seen any actual living ponies during my walk.
As I headed further on I came close to an area where the road I had been following met with another, leading off towards the horizon. From down that second road I could see a cloud of dust kicked up in the wake of something moving and hear the distant thunder of hoofbeats. Pausing in my tracks I could see a group of ponies rushing down the road towards me. Hiding when you’re twice the size of an average pony is not an easy thing, let me tell you, thankfully it didn’t seem the ponies rushing down that road were paying much attention to their surroundings.
Six earth-ponies drew carriages in teams of two, each carriage had four more ponies riding along it. All of them looked to have been constructed from cut up remains of old chariots, haphazardly welded together in a way which looked like they should have simply fallen apart, yet somehow didn’t. The ponies were clad in similarly makeshift armor, salvaged from many other sets seemingly at random, and every one of them was armed. They rushed past me quickly, heading in the same direction I had been. I was simply happy they had passed me by without noticing me.
I continued onwards in silence, looking in the direction the town which Scraps had directed me towards was supposed to be. In the distance I could see the faint trails of smoke from cooking fires rising above the trees. Not too far from it at this point, and that other group would get there well before I would.
*** *** ***
As I began to draw closer to the town I could see where the tree-line ended, the local ponies having knocked the trees from their burnt stumps to clear space for the beginnings of their town. A tiny makeshift farm was visible near the outer-most walls of the area. The town itself constructed from scavenged wood, metal and concrete from the roads and surrounding ruins. Past the walls of the town I could see a second major road, crossed perpendicular to the road I had followed, also travelled through this tiny piece of civilization. The locals must have built it here as some kind of trading post, it was no wonder the local caravans passed through her regularly. My PipBuck conveniently provided the town a name “South-End Junction”.
The sound of gunfire drew my attention back to the present as I looked over the makeshift architecture of the town. I could hear hooting and hollering from within. It was then that I spotted the first of the dead along the road towards the entrance to the town. Two ponies, dressed in the odd makeshift armor I had seen before, had been slain by some unseen opponent. Their bodies left limp in the road in pools of their own blood, partially dismembered by the force of the impact of whatever weapon had done them in. From further within the town I could hear shouting, but it sounded more excited than anything else. Somehow that only seemed to make the sight of the two dead ponies beyond the walls more sickening.
I briefly considered just walking away from the town, claiming it wasn’t my problem and that I shouldn’t get involved. Several parts of me agreed with that idea, after all I had no idea what kind of ponies lived here! But another part of me dissented, as I could hear chains in the distance which rattled some ancient buried memory. The collar around my neck felt hot and heavy, and somehow I knew I couldn’t just walk away from this. It was important to some part of me, and that was what I had left the Junkyard to find.
I spread my wings wide and kicked off into the air, beating them briefly as I rose towards the walls and over them, onto the top of the nearest building. My landing wasn’t exactly stealthy, but with the state of the town no one seemed to notice. Two more of the raiders had been killed during the battle, but I could see dozens of other dead ponies below. Most weren’t armed or armored, only a small number actually carrying anything resembling a weapon. Nearer to the walls were a half dozen dead ponies in leather armor, though their weapons were missing, stolen by the attackers no doubt. Once the raiders had overcome their defense they had happily slaughtered all of the defenseless ponies within the walls!
At first this slaughter made me feel more like I should leave. There wasn’t anything left to save here, and while I hated to let such horrible things go without punishment I couldn’t fight that many well armed opponents at once. Or so many of the conflicting thoughts in my mind told me, others urged me to purge them from the wastes for what they did, and one more only wanted to cry at the horribleness of this travesty. Below I could hear the raiders discussing their successes as I took wing again, traveling to another building, hoping desperately to find someone or something worth saving.
“Hah! What losers! Can’t believe how easy that was! The boss was right, taking that one prisoner was totally worth the effort!”
“Yeah! With her, there’s no way anyone else is gonna stand against us! I bet even those tight-assed Rangers will be shaking in their boots next time we come around!” A pair of Raiders were standing over one of the dead guards extolling on their own exploits.
Two others, a unicorn and an earth pony, gathered near the remains of what I guessed was once the leader of the settlement, mocking the corpse, “I told you we’d be back! You shoulda let yourself out to pasture years ago!”
The unicorn wrapped the body in levitation magic, animating it enough to mockingly reply to her friend, “Ah’m not gonna give up ta yer threats! Y’all aint gonna take what’s ours from us! Not no way, not no how!” her accent obviously fake as the pair broke out laughing and the unicorn dropped the remains. The display only furthered the feeling of sickness in my stomach.
I trotted as quietly as I could manage across the sheet metal roof of one of the buildings, the sign hanging outside had been shot up so badly I couldn’t even tell what it had once been, as I heard a call from one of the raiders in a small circle of buildings, “Look what I found! A little present left hidden under one of the beds!” a green coated unicorn with a mane and tail the color of a bruise stepped out of one of the buildings, the cutie mark of a small pile of skulls on her flank easily visible.
What really drew my attention, though, was what was encased in the pale glow matching the one on her horn. An earth-pony filly with soft light grey coat and shockingly red mane and tail who struggled frantically trying to get free, floated far enough away to avoid being hit by any of her flailing limbs. One of the other raiders, an earth-pony stallion, replied with a sadistic grin, “Oh, Graveyard, you always get me the best presents! I’m really going to enjoy this one!”
In that moment everything about my involvement in this slaughter changed. There was a victim here, someone still alive! But more than that, she was just a filly! Several of the feelings that I should flee this place died in my mind in that second, as they joined the ones which demanded vengeance. But more than that, there was a voice which told me I couldn’t leave this filly to her fate. The distant sound of chains returned, sending a shiver up my spine as the collar around my neck practically burned from the illusory heat. It felt as though someone had lit my brain on fire as my rage peaked. I instinctively cast my shield spell, followed by another magic I didn’t even know I could cast. The world was swept up in brilliant white light for the briefest moment before it imploded around me.
*** *** ***
The world reasserted itself instantly, but I was no longer on the roof of the building. Instead I stood barely a foot from the unicorn who was levitating the poor filly in the center of the small circle of buildings. I was unarmed, and not a particularly well trained combatant, but fortunately my sudden appearance caught both ponies completely by surprise and in that moment I reared up and bucked the unicorn as hard as I could with both hooves. Without time to prepare herself for the impact, both hooves slammed into the side of Graveyard’s face with bone-crushing force, sending her suddenly lax body sailing across the small collection of buildings and impacting a sheet of metal hard enough to leave a small dent. The broken half of her face and the way her neck bent unnaturally to the side made it clear she wasn’t going to be standing up ever again.
The other raider, momentarily stunned by my appearance, rapidly shook off his confusion as I killed his friend, much as I’m loathe to use that term as it relates to raiders. He kicked a combat shotgun from his side into the air and caught the handle in his teeth as he turned it on me.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*
Three shots from the shotgun slammed into my shield. Fortunately the individual pellets were not so powerful as to penetrate even my inexpert defenses. I reached out with my magic to grab the gun which the unicorn had been carrying at her side, ripping it clear from her remains and pulling it through the air to aim towards my new opponent. I was hardly a skilled shot, but thankfully automatic weapons didn’t require a great deal of skill as I reflexively activated the targeting spell of my PipBuck. For a brief moment time froze around me and I expended all the energy of the spell to help me fill the air with lethal projectiles. Nearly a dozen shots rang out in rapid succession, most missing their target entirely. Three, however, connected, two bouncing harmlessly off the earth pony’s armor but the third buried itself deeply into his neck as he let out a painful gurgling and collapsed to the ground beginning to bleed out.
The assault rifle gave a complaining whine somewhere inside as I levitated it as best I could. The last two shots had produced a truly horrific sound and looking towards the weapon I realized I had bent the barrel just slightly without even realizing it. While not useless, I wasn’t going to get more than a few more shots from the gun. I could hear the other raiders raising their voices, red blips appearing on my E.F.S. compass as they started to close in. I looked towards the filly, who had somehow found herself a place to hide amongst the rubble even in those few seconds and shouted to her, “Run!”
Thankfully I didn’t have to tell her twice as she immediately took off towards one of the nearby buildings, the same she’d been dragged out of. I followed behind her, the assault rifle floating nearby just outside my shield, kicking the door closed behind me just as another raider rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac. I wasn’t certain I’d be able to hold off more than a few of these ponies, but I wasn’t going to just surrender a filly to a group who would be so deprived as to openly mock the dead. I could only imagine what kind of ‘enjoyment’ they had planned to get from her, and all the answers made me deeply ill.
Outside the building I could tell there were others gathering, four at the moment and probably more following behind them, red lights moving on my E.F.S. Thankfully I didn’t think they’d seen which building we went into. Unfortunately I was certain they were aware we were around as I could hear them calling out, a loud female voice penetrating the building, “Come on out, and I promise we’ll kill you real quick!” the voice had an edge to it which could have been used to cut your mane.
Frantically I looked around the room we’d fled into. It looked like it had once been a bar, a long counter looping around one side of the room with several over-turned tables as well. A radio behind the counter looked like it had been caught by a blast from a shotgun, possibly aimed at whomever had actually been behind the bar. The filly I has rescued was nowhere to be seen, but I could see a set of stairs leading upwards in the back, hidden behind the bar wall with dozens of broken glasses and bottles on it, and could guess where she’d gone. At the moment I was more concerned with not getting killed as I heard the raiders moving around the outside bucking in doors one by one.
I moved, intent to levitate two of the tables towards the doorway, only for it to burst open moments before I could grab either, that same female voice filling the air, “Hah! Found y-” her voice cut off as she actually saw me. A brief look of panic spread across her face as she grabbed the bit of the battle-saddle strapped to her flanks. I could see now she was an earth-pony, carrying a pair of single-shot rifles. Fortunately her panic made her a poor shot. Unfortunately, I was a large target and those were quite potent weapons.
One of the shells went wide of me, sailing across the room to embed itself into the counter with a ‘crunch’ of shattering wood. The other slammed through my shield and impacted my flank causing a lance of searing pain. Briefly overwhelmed the magic powering my shield faded as the agony of the impact spread across my body, my PipBuck’s medical spells throwing up a few basic warnings but thankfully nothing life-threatening. I responded by bringing the assault rifle around and opening up with it without even the benefit of my targeting spell. While I was a terrible shot, and worse the weapon was beginning to be seriously damaged, in an enclosed space against a stationary target even I couldn’t miss. Six more rounds spent before the rifle jammed as one of the rounds misfired and destroyed the loading mechanism.
Unfortunately, those six rounds weren’t enough to kill her, well not completely. The wounds to her forelegs and torso were enough I didn’t think she’d last more than a few minutes. But a few minutes of being shot at with those rifles of hers seemed like an absolute eternity at the time. I jumped slightly to one side as she fired again, one of the bullets grazing along my wing and tearing a few feathers loose. The pain was nothing compared to what I was feeling in my flank at the time, but without my shield up a direct hit from one of those rifles was going to mean serious injury.
Rather than take the chance she might get lucky, I drew the assault rifle up closer and swung it around as hard as I could wrapped in my levitation field. The resounding crunch of metal on flesh filled the empty bar, bending the weapon even worse than it already was. A second swing, and a third, and a forth, before even the stock of the weapon was giving up and the gun practically fell to pieces still encased in my magic. Thankfully, somewhere between the second and fourth hit I’d managed to do enough damage that my less than pleasant guest passed out, the red marker on my E.F.S. going dark.
A brief moment passed as I got a chance to breathe, dropping the broken remains of the assault rifle to the ground and immediately concentrating to re-cast my shield. The other three red dots on my E.F.S. were growing closer, quickly, I had barely a few seconds before they’d be into the room with me. Flipping on my inventory management spell I pulled one of the precious few healing potions from by saddlebag and downed it quickly. Had we the time I would have preferred to use the bandages, but at the moment my concern was living long enough to care about wasting supplies.
I couldn’t fight three more ponies armed with something like those rifles, and with the way that the earth pony raider had them hooked into her battle-saddle I couldn’t easily pull them free with my magic without seriously damaging them in the process. Frantic, I cast my eyes around the room looking for anything I could use to stop them, spotting the grenade pouch the raider was carrying just as the first of her compatriots came close enough for me to spot him. Another earth-pony, this one larger than the one with the shotgun, wearing a pair of wickedly spiked shoes and carrying some kind of heavy pistol in his teeth. He fired a single shot at me which thankfully passed my cheek with a near miss. In a panic I grabbed the grenade pouch on the dead raider and ripped the pin from one of the grenades, tossing the whole bag towards the cluster of three red dots before hurling myself across the bar and hunkering down as low as I could manage.
The explosion from outside the door was loud enough to leave my ears ringing despite being inside a building and well out of immediate danger range. The two windows in the front side of the building burst inwards from the shrapnel, spreading shattered glass across the already ruined floor. The three red blips on my E.F.S. winked out instantly, caught up in the hurricane of destruction. Slowly, I climbed back to my feet and back over the bar, hooves clicking slightly against the hard tile floor as I could see others approaching the area. Six raiders slain, four more killed in taking the town, that left eight more alive. Assuming I’d seen all of them on the road into town, at least. The pain from my wound had died down, at least, the healing potion was doing its job. But I knew better to believe I could take all eight of them out like I had those six. Surprise and luck weren’t going to keep me alive much longer. But maybe something else could instead.
*** *** ***
In the time it took the remaining raiders to finally make their way into the circle of buildings I had levitated the corpse from the door-frame and gathered up the remains of the four who had been blown to pieces. I had laid them out on the ground around me, so it might appear that they had fought me as a group and been blown to pieces as a result. Doing my best to cover over the specific nature of their deaths, so as to make it less likely that the remaining raiders would believe I had killed them with their own weapons. The shocked reaction of the raider upon spotting me before had given me an idea.
My shield and horn filled the surroundings with dark purple as the eight remaining raiders finally approached, slowly enough I was certain they were thinking carefully about whether they wanted to try fighting me. I flared my wings outwards to make myself look as large and imposing as possible, straightening up until I stood nearly twice the height of a normal pony. They trained multiple weapons on me, but most of them seemed to be lighter guns, with only two carrying long barreled firearms. Together they looked horrendously dangerous and I did my best not to show any sign of the nervousness which ran through my mind, many of the conflicting voices urging me to teleport away and run.
Finally, after several long seconds of stand-off their leader, the unicorn who had been toying with the body of the town’s leader, who I could now see had bloodshot eyes which seemed to suit her bloodstained white coat and purple and magenta mane, stepped forwards as she looked me up and down, “I didn’t think we’d find something like you here.” she glared up at me with a look which seemed more curious than angry over the death of her fellows, “What would one of you ‘goddesses’ be doing way out here?” somehow being referred to that way filled me with shame and anger, as though she had just slung some mortal insult at those who rightfully deserved the title.
I paused briefly as though only just then registering their presence, or so I hoped, “My business here is my own! You will leave now, or all of you will die!” my horn glowed brighter, briefly, as my voice was raised to the fullness of its volume, echoing off the surrounding buildings.
For a long moment the raider leader simply stared at me in some disbelief. I stood impassive and simply looked back down at her with the best dismissive appearance I could give, given that my mind was currently awash with the desire to be anywhere but where I was. Finally she furrowed her brows and backed up, calling out to the others, “Let’s get the buck out of here. We already got everything worth taking anyway. No point in getting killed over worthless wreckage.” snorting and turning to leave.
I gave a silent prayer of thanks to Celestia that she’d believed my bluff, at least now I didn’t have to fight them all at once. I still hated the idea of letting a group like that simply gallop away with whatever they had taken, after wiping out an entire settlement, but at the moment I wasn’t in any position to stop them and had no idea how many more might be left wherever they came from. Silently I waited until all of them had left and I could hear them galloping away with their wagons, the red dots in my E.F.S. vanishing, before I allowed my legs to collapse out from under me and my shield to dissipate.
*** *** ***
Climbing the stairs within the broken bar, I found that the second floor had two doorways on opposite sides of a short hallway. One sat open, a brief peek inside revealed it to be a decently large room taking up most of the second floor containing a bed large enough for two ponies to share. There were no signs of the inhabitants, and I could safely assume they were amongst the dead outside.
Across the hall, the other doorway looked in much worse repair, owing mostly to the way that the top left corner of the door had been bucked in completely. It had clearly been forced out of its frame and now hung unlatched but closed. The unbroken section of door had the word ‘Requiem’ stenciled onto it, having been carefully painted by somepony with obvious care. Gently, I nudged the door open, causing it to creek on its hinges.
The interior of the room was not in dramatically better shape than the door was. It appeared that the raider unicorn, Graveyard the other had called her, had ransacked this room first and returned outside before disturbing the other. Picture frames sat shattered on the ground, the smaller mattress in the corner torn up as though to check whether someone had hidden something inside, dozens of weathered books were torn from a small bookcase in the corner and flung around the room. I couldn’t imagine what the raider had hoped to find in what was obviously a filly’s room, judging by the mangled stuffed pony sitting on the ground in the corner.
There was no sign of the filly from outside at first, then I remembered what the raider had said about hiding under the bed. Carefully I reached out with my magic to lift the mattress from the bedframe and looked beneath. I could see the form of the small grey filly crouched in the furthest corner behind the bed, utterly silent in the relative darkness of the room. Getting a better look at her at this distance made it obvious that her mane and tail were naturally straight, her coat a soft grey the color of clouds and upon her flank was emblazoned an empty musical scale. Giving a nervous smile I spoke quietly and as gently as I could manage, “They’re gone now. You can come out. I won’t hurt you.” hoping she would recognize that I’d saved her enough to at least come out from under the bed.
Several long minutes went by as I spoke quietly to her, trying to reassure the filly that she wasn’t in danger, before she very slowly crawled out from beneath the bed and began nosing around the room as though searching for something. I stepped backwards and turned around, to find myself staring into a large mirror which had been struck hard enough to fracture it. Despite the breaks the mirror provided a decent enough reflection, the first time I’d seen my reflection since waking up, the reflection seemed somehow wrong though I couldn’t put my hoof on why.
My body was a dark purple bordering on black. My mane was long, nearly reaching the floor even when sitting fully upright, colored a matching dark purple with similarly dark green stripes and a strong wave to it, tail matching my mane. My eyes were a brilliant crimson, complementing my dark coat with surprising effect. Something about the image staring back at me seemed distantly familiar but not at all like it should have looked. Just looking at that reflection made me feel wrong, a sick churning feeling in my stomach as I was reminded somewhere that I wasn’t what I should be. Unsettled I turned away from the mirror and did my best to put the feeling out of my mind.
By the time I finished my self-inspection the filly I had saved had finished her own time around the room. She’d gathered a small number of photographs and a single book into a small bundle tied together with what looked like a bandanna, dropping it at my forelegs as she looked up at me sadly. When I looked back down she seemed to scoot away from wherever my eyes were pointed almost by reflex, until I finally just trained my eyes upon the package and asked quietly, “Is this all you’re taking?” she nodded her head slowly and gently picked it up in her teeth. I wanted to cry, to take righteous vengeance against those who had stolen this filly’s family, to do anything other than sit there uselessly, but at that moment it was all I could do, “I’ll carry it for you. It’s only fitting if we’re going to be traveling together.” she at least caught on fast, that she couldn’t stay here alone and seemed a little more relaxed and happy when I proposed us actually staying together.
Carefully I levitated the package up and tucked it into one of my saddle bags still tied up, my PipBuck chirped as it registered the entire bundle as a single object. I stood and moved to the doorway, careful not to look directly at the filly. She moved with a silent grace, such that I could only barely hear her hoof-falls upon the hard flooring as we made our way outside. If I hadn’t been so close to her I easily would have missed even that. Briefly, I checked the one intact object in the bar, the large refrigerator behind the counter. Inside I found a few bottles of purified water and some oddly shaped fruits resembling what was being grown in the farm outside town. Somehow taking from the dead of this place felt wrong, but at the same time Scraps hadn’t given me any food or water, and while I might not need them the filly did.
As a final gesture to the dead of the town I gathered up some of the wood from the shattered remains of the doors and started a bonfire, carefully moving the bodies of the deceased villagers into it. I didn’t have time or energy to give them a proper burial, but at least I could avoid leaving their bodies to rot beneath the dreary clouds of the wasteland.
When the time came to leave town I was carrying the filly, whom I had chosen to call Silent Requiem based on the name on her door and the way she never seemed to make even the slightest sound, on my back. She had been so exhausted, physically and emotionally, by the day that she could barely walk now. I could feel the warm wetness of tears on my coat as she clung to my neck with her forehooves. Even as she was crying over all she had lost that day she never made a single sound. Finally, as the sun began to set behind impenetrable clouds, we walked south along the road. I wouldn’t feel right until I found the raiders who had done this and ensured they would never do it again.
Notes: Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 2) New Perk: Swift Casting - Speed is a necessity in battle, especially when utilizing complex magics. You manifest spells 25% faster than normal. New Spell: Twilight Bridge (Rank 1) - A gift from the creator of I.M.P., you can instantly teleport yourself across short distances so long as you can see your target destination or have been in the location you are teleporting to. Small objects near your arrival point may be displaced, but larger objects may be hazardous. Be careful!
Silent Requiem (Level 1) Trait: Foalish Build - Thinner and lighter than an average pony, you gain +1 to your Agility but take 20% more damage to your limbs from all attacks. Stay away from explosives! Trait: Picky Scavenger - You have difficulty carrying as large of loads as most ponies, reducing your carry weight to 100 + (Str x 5) pounds, however this has lead to you being exceptionally good at picking the best objects to take with you. Objects you loot are in better condition than normal and you have a chance to find peculiar treasures others would overlook. Origin: Wipe-Out Survivor - Your home was wiped out by a hostile force, killing everyone else you knew. You only survived through your superior ability to avoid being detected by anyone, but this experience has left you scarred and possibly permanently nervous about those around you. You gain +15 to your Sneak skill and opponents are considered to have 1 point lower Perception for purposes of detecting you while sneaking, however you suffer -5 each to your Speech and Barter skills and a permanent -1 to your Charisma. Needless to say, you don’t talk (or make any other noise!) much.
Legends have a power all their own. Whether true or not, they hold a magic which is hard to recreate. In the darkest times they give us hope. In the happiest times they remind us what we are thankful for. They give us an example to live up to, and a warning of how far we can fall. They can give us solace in our time of need and be a beacon towards a better tomorrow.
Ultimately, though, legends are just stories. Without some pony to act upon their message they will never accomplish anything. They may paint a normal pony as a grand and powerful figure, but if none other ever follows in their hoofsteps then what’s the point? Legends have a magic all their own, but it’s ponies who have to make that magic real.
*** *** ***
Rain fell upon the broken asphalt of an ancient road, pooling where the road had buckled and collapsed. Rivulets of water flowed across the dark purple glow of my shield, forming a small wave which was pushed before me with each hooffall. Beside me the tiny form of Silent Requiem cowered slightly near my legs, the distant sound of thunder completely obscuring the soft sound of her hooves passing over the damp ground. The rain had been falling for the last several hours, the sky having turned completely black until only the pale glow of my shield gave any light to the surroundings.
Lightning flashed across the sky, casting long shadows and sudden brilliance before darkness overtook us again. In that brief moment of illumination I could see a large structure, slumping slightly to one side. Once it had been fully four stories tall but now it seemed only the bottom two survived. Blackened wood and shattered stone sat amongst reflective glass shards at the top of the building, burned and twisted from years of exposure to the elements. Below I could see where there had once been great metal letters mounted into the side of its grey stone construction, worn so badly by age I could barely make out the name. My PipBuck chirped and provided the missing information for me, “Blueblood Central Library”.
For a moment I peered off into the distance down the broken road, barely able to see five feet through the thick sheets of rain. My horn was aching slightly as I looked up towards the library again, hours of maintaining my shield through the rain beginning to wear upon me. Thankfully the rain was just rain, maintaining it for that long under actual threatening combat situations would probably have been impossible. The darkness before us and the length of the rain made it clear to me, we needed a place to stay for at least a short time and this place seemed to be the most convenient.
Parts of me were nervous as I stepped forwards, reminding me of all the potential problems in some ancient building like this. If it were safe, surely some other ponies would be staying here, wouldn’t they? On the other hoof, the building looked mostly intact in its lower levels. The stone and glass construction of the lower floors seemed to have survived the centuries since the war with little difficulty, weathered but unbroken for their age. I stepped forwards and gently pushed the doors open, creating a horrific squealing sound from long-rusted hinges. Silent entered the building before I could, creeping low to the ground and remarkably quickly. For all I hated the rain, she seemed far more uncomfortable out in the open. I followed her inside with trepidation.
*** *** ***
As I stepped into the ancient building the scent of ash and smoke filled my awareness. Long ago this place must have burned badly, the charred remains of bookcases filling the large central room of the library. From the ceiling a tiny handful of still-functional lights hung, casting pale white illumination across the long abandoned racks of burned books. I could see Requiem already curiously nosing her way through the burned books, most of which seemed to disintegrate the moment she touched them.
The foyer of the library was filled with the twisted, skeletal metal remains of chairs and couches around a blackened wooden table. Once there had been space here for ponies to gather and read beneath the lights of the library, to partake in the knowledge of the past and the stories freely shared here. Now, all that remained were a horrible mockery of that one-time enjoyment, burned and lost to time.
Across the room I could see the broken remains of a checkout counter, three terminals sitting silently upon it their outer casings charred black and screens partially melted. Behind the counter I could see a large poster, half burned, which depicted the strangely familiar form of a purple unicorn with slightly greying purple and magenta mane, an owl perched upon her back. Something about her image was distantly, horribly, familiar and a feeling of dread and shame crept over me as I realized I couldn’t remember why. ‘Reading. It’s a hoot!’ was written along the top and bottom of the poster, the charring around the edges making it difficult to read. It seemed a small miracle that the poster had survived the fire at all, and briefly made me wonder whether whomever had created it had woven some kind of protective magic into its creation.
Slowly I followed Requiem deeper into the library, walking between the great book cases with gentle care. The aisles were built for ponies much smaller than me, the space small enough my wings wouldn’t even get half way to being spread before touching the shelves on both sides. The bookcases themselves were a massive affair, easily half-again taller than I was, stretching from floor to ceiling. Dozens of them filling the main room of the library, many of their shelves having collapsed long ago and spilled their burned books into haphazard piles upon the charred carpeting.
More horrifically, I could see places where charred skeletons lay leaning against those darkened book cases, burned to death when the library had caught fire with nowhere to run to. I could see corpses piled up near the windows, as though the ponies trapped within the building had sought to break them down and flee, yet the glass remained unbroken. It seemed some small miracle that anything here had survived at all. Whomever had built this place had built it to last, perhaps too well for those unfortunate enough to be trapped inside.
In the distance, near the back of the main room of the library, I could see the signs of a staircase rising towards the second floor. Near it was a door which seemed to have been jammed open by age and decay, the slight green flicker of a functional terminal illuminating the distant room. Requiem had stopped in her explorations, sitting near the edge of one of the book cases with ears raised as though listening to something. That should have been my first warning, but in my curiosity about the green light from that room I barely registered that she’d stopped moving, blundering out into the open area between two rows of bookcases.
Several things happened almost simultaneously, throwing the entire library into chaos. The sound of gunfire filled the air as bullets tore into the remaining shelves, hurling burned books, ash and torn pages into the air. My E.F.S. filled with nearly a half-dozen red dots where there had been nothing moments before. Dark purple light filled the surroundings as I cast my shield even without thinking about what had happened. Bright Lines of fire traced through the air where bullets passed close enough to me that had I kept moving I would surely have been hit. The library’s security system had activated, and suddenly the seemingly peaceful and sedate surroundings were a sea of dangers. Turning about to retreat closer to where Requiem had been, I could see that several more red marks were waiting near the entrance of the library. Even retreat would be dangerous now.
Levitating the combat shotgun I had recovered from the remains of one of the raiders who had attacked Requiem’s home I slowly stepped around the corner again. Instantly the security turret swiveled around and began to fill the air with bullets once again. It was fortunate that the targeting spell of my PipBuck slipped into a state of suspended time when activated or I would never have reacted fast enough. I returned fire with the large scatter gun shots, even as inaccurate as I was it was difficult to miss a stationary target with a shotgun.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*
The roar of the combat shotgun cut above even the ongoing cacophony of automatic weapon fire. Peppering the turret with a shower of tiny pellets, cutting into its gears and loading mechanism. A moment later the turret exploded in a shower of sparks and scrap metal, tearing itself apart as it suffered internal breakdowns. The last guttering shots dug into the flooring near me, all save one which punched through my shield and grazed across one of my forelegs. Shooting pain ran along my body for a brief moment, my PipBuck’s medical spells thankfully confirming it was only a minor injury.
For a moment I believed myself safe, protected by the book cases blocking the line of detection on the turrets. That is, until the sound of bullets tearing into flooring filled my ears from behind. A searing pain suddenly slammed into my perception as one of those bullets tore its way through one of my rear legs, passing dangerously close to the bone. All at once I lost my balance and collapsed to one side, the voices in my head a chorus of pain and fear, urging me to find cover or teleport away or do something, anything, other than lay out in the open like that! I swiveled my head around, my shield thankfully remaining intact despite the pain, focusing carefully upon the weapon wrapped in my magic I began to fire as quickly as I could even as my vision was tinted dark around the edges.
A half a dozen shotgun rounds filled the air with slugs, the gun beginning to seize up by the final shot. The turret returned fire, with thankfully typical poor aim, three shots grazing across my flank and a fourth punching through the wing I had spread by reflex in an effort to balance myself. The darkness around the edges of my vision was getting worse as it blurred, but the turret sparked and detonated much the same way its companion had. Quickly I activated the inventory management spell of my PipBuck, pulling three of the last four healing potions from within and downing them without a second thought, hoping they would work faster than I would finish bleeding out.
My vision was filled with blurry shapes and nonsensical colors as I returned to consciousness less than a minute later. Struggling to get my legs back under me, the audible crunching-pop created when one of my hooves smashed through a charred skeleton brought my mind fully back into focus. The searing ocean of pain which had been my back leg had diminished greatly, now more of a dull throbbing ache as the healing potions did their best with the wound. For a moment I scrambled around to figure out where I had dropped the combat shotgun, finding it amongst a half dozen shredded books a few feet away from me, a bullet having punctured the loading drum of the gun. I grabbed it anyway, in the hope I could find a replacement sometime later, then began to check my surroundings once again.
With the feeling of a lead weight settling into my stomach I realized I couldn’t see Requiem anywhere. I couldn’t place just when I’d lost track of her, after all she’d been right there by the bookcase when I stepped out into the corridor! Looking around in panic it was several seconds before I spotted the friendly blip on my EFS. Only four hostile targets remained, but a quick check of my inventory showed I’d run out of shotgun shells and my combat shotgun was no longer functional. I tracked the friendly marker and slowly slipped between the massive bookcases, hoping to get a clear sight of what was going on.
Leaning my head around one of the shelving units I could finally see her. Requiem had climbed up on top of two of the broken book cases, and was creeping quietly along their central ridge towards one of the four remaining turrets. Tiny bits of dust and crumbling pieces of burned wood were dislodged by each hoof fall as she made her way closer to that turret. All at once she crouched and leaped across the gap, grabbing hold of the turret with her forelegs. The way she hung from it a few moments as it began to swivel around in confusion would have been adorably humorous if it weren’t for the dangerous nature of what she’d just grabbed hold of. I could see her grasp the wiring running between the main body of the gun and its targeting camera in her mouth, ripping them out in a single violent tug.
Deprived of targeting data, the turret began to turn violently, opening fire in random directions as its simple combat matrix was left with no way of telling where enemies were. Bullets sprayed through the library, sheering off book cases which began to crumble under the continued assault. The spray hit two of the other turrets, sending sparks and whining filling the air as they attempted to track back the source of the fire. For a moment I was terrified they might open fire while Silent Requiem was still grasping tightly to the rapidly moving weapon emplacement. Those fears were unfounded, however, as Requiem was tossed violently from the turret by its continued uncontrollable movement, hitting the nearby window and bouncing off it she collapsed to the ground. Meanwhile, the two other turrets which had received fire sputtered and sparked, exploding like the two I had destroyed less than a minute before. The fourth remaining turret turned in its place, opening fire upon the damaged turret as it registered a new threat, reducing it to scrap metal in moments, before tracking downwards towards where the unmoving Requiem lay.
My mind exploded in horror as the chorus of errant thoughts unified into a single driving force, the glow of my shield erupting into the space around me as distance and time twisted and folded back on themselves. My vision filled with white and imploded, bursting back to full existence just as the turret opened fire upon Requiem’s collapsed form. Bullets impacted my shield, ricocheting off in random directions to embed themselves into the floor and ceiling alike. With no weapons left and my anger beyond the limit I wrapped my magic around a nearby table, charred black by the fire, and hurled it with all my might at the stationary emplacement. The glow of my magic faded a moment after it was airborne, impacting with the full mass of its construction, enough to tear the turret cleanly from its mountings, leaving behind just a set of sparking wires where once had been a lethal weapon.
The immediate danger past, my thoughts turned from anger and vengeance to terror and concern. Gaze tracking downwards towards the unconscious Requiem, the friendly marker on my EFS was still in place giving at least that hope that she was still alive for the moment. I pulled the last remaining healing potion from my saddle bag and carefully nudged her over onto her side enough to allow me to pour it down into her mouth and throat.
Thankfully she was still alive enough to swallow by reflex, giving me more hope of her recovery. Carefully I pulled a small length of medical bandages out, wrapping them around where I had seen her impact the glass. I had to hope her internal injuries weren’t too much for the healing potion to handle. Slowly my pulse was beginning to calm itself as she began to react to the magical solution, showing signs of stirring in her injured slumber. All thoughts of my own pain had been banished from my mind as I carefully levitated her from the floor, laying her across my back, and retreated into the office at the back of the library. At least we would be safe there for a few moments.
*** *** ***
The office was a small, almost cramped, affair. Consisting of a work desk with a glowing terminal sitting atop it. Beside the terminal was a spotlessly white coffee mug, along with half a dozen pencils. For some reason I could only pause to wonder what kind of pony needed a terminal and half a dozen pencils on a day to day basis. Thankfully the room had been saved from the worst of the fire by its heavy metal door, though the ravages of age had still damaged much in the area. A small cushioned mat, probably once used to relax on during the owner’s lunch hour, sat in one corner where I carefully deposited Requiem to allow her time to recover from her injuries.
Left with time to tend my own wounds, finally, I pulled out more of the bandages and slowly wrapped them around my rear leg. The potions had done their job well enough and most of the worst internal damage was already healed, but the exterior harm was still significant. The both of us needed time to rest, let our bodies recover, even if it was only a few minutes.
I shoved the chair away from the desk and moved to sit in front of it. The pony who had owned it must not have been very tall, as the chair had been adjusted quite high, while I seemed to tower over the desk in a way which felt unnatural. Something about the way the whole world seemed to have been built too small bothered me in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that I wasn’t what was supposed to be here. Doing my best to put that feeling out of my mind I turned my attention to the terminal, activating its user interface.
My scattered memories guided me far enough to connect my PipBuck and open the terminal’s security override functionality, allowing me a chance to guess at its password. Unfortunately that was as far as those memories were willing to guide me and even doing that left me with a splitting headache and nauseous feeling. Like trying to figure out how to answer a question by reading the stripes left at the bottom of a bucket of liquid rainbow. The security on the terminal was fortunately quite light, easy enough that even my lack-of-skill was sufficient to approach it at least. Even then it took me nearly half a dozen tries, backing out and reactivating the terminal twice before I finally found the right solution. The password was ‘Read’. It was not my proudest moment.
The terminal had several interesting notes on it. Most importantly, the controls to the automated turrets Silent Requiem and I had just finished destroying. Which according to the information on the terminal were no longer receiving targeting data, implying they had all been destroyed. Some part of me raged at the fact that we’d risked so much to destroy them only to NOW find the easy way to disable them, while another part reminded me that it shouldn’t be surprising they would put the controls behind the turrets it controlled. I did my best to ignore both of those feelings and move on to the other things on the terminal.
Attempting to access the terminal’s data system returned largely corrupted information, all save for two messages. One dated just over two hundred years ago, the other barely two months ago. A combination of curiosity and boredom lead me to open the older file first. I didn’t expect to find anything useful, but it was something to pass the time.
************** From:Chief Librarian Silent Night To: All Central Library Staff Subject: New Book Shipment
Today I received notice from the Ministry of Image that a new shipment of revised books will be arriving in the next week. Unfortunately, recent developments have made precise shipping schedules difficult to pinpoint. So, I will need somepony waiting in the loading dock at all times until we make the book exchange. The books they have requested we turn in have already been sequestered in storage in the basement, room 7D. Just show the Ministry workers where they are and officiate the paperwork and we’ll be well on our way to having the replacements on the shelves as swiftly as possible. I know many of you dislike the idea of turning over some of the books on this list, but I have been guaranteed that we will be getting proper replacements for each of them. Please show full cooperation, I don’t want to see anypony losing their jobs over some misguided beliefs about the Ministry’s motives.
There’s a spare key to book storage in my desk, if anypony has lost theirs ask me and I will provide a new one. Lack of ability to open the storage room will not be an acceptable reason for delaying the replacements this time. Please don’t repeat the problems we had last time.
PS - Tuesday is Bring Your Foal to Work Day, please don’t forget this time. I do NOT want a repeat of last year’s fiasco. **************
I wondered briefly whether or not the chief librarian was one of the skeletons out there in the main rooms of the library, or whether they had been at home when whatever catastrophe struck this place occurred. Both possibilities filled my heart with dread and made me feel slightly sick. Somehow, the direct connection to a once-living pony made the disaster here all the more terrifying.
As I finished reviewing the message, my PipBuck chirped as a message appeared on my EFS, claiming it had recovered some kind of data list attached to the message. A quick glance revealed that this was a listing of the books which had been stored for Ministry of Image pickup. I wondered briefly what the Ministry of Image was and why they would care about a collection of books which included such distinguished titles as The Egghead’s Guide to Cooking and Hoofing Ways: The True Tales of Exploring Everfree. As I filtered down the list my eyes fell on a particular title which hung in my mind Legends and Lore: A Complete Collection. Something about that name sent a surge through my mind like lightning conducted down my horn. I knew I had to have it, even as I failed to understand why.
I wanted nothing more than to leap from where I was sitting, rush down the stairs I was now certain existed hidden somewhere in the main room of the library and deconstruct the basement to find that single tome. Only the pain in my leg and the soft sound of Requiem’s breathing reminded me that I needed to remain where I was for at least a few moments longer. Intent to distract myself from my desires I opened the second message, in hopes that it would be better news.
************** From: Chief Librarian Silent Night To: Error, Unrecognized Destination, please speak with network supervisor Subject: Discovery
Found more records here, gathered as many as I could carry. Will hire a courier in the next town to carry the books to the usual pickup site. I’ll include a list of books with this message and another with the courier, make sure to check them against one another and the delivered books! I know I probably don’t need to say this, but I’m always a little concerned about other ponies carrying these things. I’ve activated the automated security here, which should keep anything I may have missed safe for now.
I’m leaving here in the morning, going to visit the Ministry of Peace Hospital on my way past. The Rangers there have been out of communication for some time and I’m hoping to find out why. With luck, the elder there will be willing to part with some supplies for my continued journey. I’ll be in touch again as soon as I can be.
-R **************
Somepony else had been here before us, looking for books. Somepony who had decided to activate the security systems. I seethed with irritation at this prospect, that somepony was actually responsible for the state of Silent Requiem at that moment. That they might never know the pain they’d caused to a relatively innocent filly. Some part of me told me that was right, after all it wasn’t as though that pony had known we would come here, but I didn’t want to listen to that part at all.
Without thinking I raised one hoof and kicked the terminal off the desk, hurling its surprisingly light construction across the room hard enough to crack one of the partially burned walls. The screen split on impact, bursting open with a shower of small sparks and shattered crystal. In my moment of rage I had forgotten my PipBuck was connected to the terminal by a set of rather heavy wires, and so I suddenly found my forehoof yanked out from under me sending me crashing chin-first into the desk. The impact was enough to bury the growing anger in my mind beneath a tidal wave of sudden pain. Nothing like as intense as the pain in my leg had been a few minutes earlier, but enough to clear my mind at least.
Slightly dazed from the impact I slowly righted myself, getting my hooves back under me and trying to stop the room from spinning. A moment of adjusting my jaw told me that I’d at least avoided breaking anything. It only took a moment longer to make my eyes stop pointing in different directions and focus them back on the PipBuck which had just dragged me to the ground. My irritation passed as I spotted that it had downloaded the second book list before I had thrown my fit. A quick check, scanning down the list and... Yes! Legends and Lore: A Complete Collection didn’t appear on that second list! That meant it was still somewhere here. Well, either that or it had been destroyed sometime in the past two centuries. But, I was feeling optimistic today, so I chose to believe it was simply well hidden.
A sudden, sharp tug on my mane brought my attention back to my immediate surroundings and the fact that my tantrum had woken Silent Requiem from her slumber. As I looked down towards her she let go of my hair and quietly backed away, as though expecting me to react to her presence with the same level of violence I had shown to the now-broken terminal. Carefully I reached out with one hoof to pat her on the head for bringing me out of being lost in my mind.
I spoke up, doing my best not to look directly at Requiem, “Somewhere in that other room is a hidden way down into the basement. What do you say the two of us go look for it? It’ll be fun! Like hide and seek!” Only after I finished talking did I realize what I’d just said, and immediately felt the intense desire to mash my hooves into my face in shame. Thankfully Requiem didn’t seem to mind, having stood up and made her way towards the door to the office already.
As I stood, my eyes passed over a small shelf on one of the walls away from the door, a collection of objects I hadn’t noticed before. A small bronze statue of a rearing pegasus mare, what looked to be the cue ball from a billiards table on a small stand and, finally, a picture frame containing a photograph. The picture frame was surprisingly well intact given both its age and the state of the rest of the building. I could only assume that it had been enchanted in some way to resist aging, likely extended to the photograph inside which seemed to have not faded at all despite being over two centuries since it was taken. The image was of a pegasus mare with a sky-blue coat and rainbow colored mane, her cutie mark obscured by a slip of paper with the number 15 written on it. She was grinning with the kind of excited look one only got when they were certain that was the greatest moment of their life. Behind her I could see, though severely out of focus, the signs of seating and a crowd. At the bottom was written “Never fear yourself. - RD” in black marker.
Something about the figure in that photograph made me feel deeply nostalgic, sad and overjoyed all at once. As though I were staring at something which once upon a time would have been a prized possession but now barely seemed to be recognizable. Carefully I levitated the picture frame and folded it up, tucking it into my saddle bag. Two hundred years of isolation made it unlikely anyone would miss it from this place, after all. Maybe I would find somewhere nice to put it until I could figure out why I felt that way.
Finally, I made my way out of the office after Requiem. By the time I made it outside she had already begun shuffling around the edges of the room, coming to a stop near the stairs up. The area under the stairs was walled off with what had once been a carefully carved design resembling pillars, something of a contrast to the rest of the building’s large windows. Some part of me protested that it was a throwback to more traditional designs and was always in style, but I did my best not to think too hard about it. Requiem was digging around the edges near one of the columns as I approached.
In the space between each descending column was an arching area with what had once been a flat white surface. The heat of the flames had scorched these areas darker with soot and twisted them with heat, leaving them pockmarked along the surface. As I approached I could see what had Requiem’s attention, the particular arch she was searching around had a slight crack between it and the column. Before the fire it would certainly have been impossible to see, but the warping of the column and surface left it just wide enough to be visible.
I gently shooed Requiem back from the wall before rearing up on my hind legs and slamming my forehooves against the blocked door. The door was neither locked nor barred, though it was sticky, as the impact began to force it open. The sound of the door opening was far more hideous than that of the front doors had been, filling the silent room with squealing. Within moments, however, the obstinate door had been forced aside, allowing a clear view into the metallic hallway beyond.
Past the faux marble exterior the hallway was unpainted metal, obviously designed for functionality over appearance. I stepped over the edge between the exterior and interior and could feel Silent Requiem move in behind me, hiding behind my rear legs and part way beneath my tail. Only a short landing existed level with the library proper, before it began to descend along a narrow staircase which turned inwards slightly, mapping to the exterior wall. As I descended the staircase I could see a metal door with a rotating handle on it, the type built to lock in place once it was closed all the way. Carefully I grasped the handle with my magic and rotated it until the cross-bars slid free of the door frame, the door itself sliding downwards into a hole in the floor below. I took the first step into the book storage basement, intent to find the one book here my mind absolutely insisted I must have.
*** *** ***
“Please present employee identification. Thank you and have a nice day.” The obviously mechanical voice echoed through darkened hallways beneath the ruined library. Accompanying that voice was the sound of metal stomping against metal, more echos of similar sounds coming from further within the halls of the storage basement. Silent Requiem and I were taking refuge in a small side-room, what had once been used for storing newspapers at a guess from the large filing cabinets lining the walls of the room.
Requiem was busying herself digging through the cabinets in search of something which had caught her attention, meanwhile I stood beside the open door with a section of heavy metal piping grasped in my magic. Outside I could hear the stomping growing closer, a passive blip on my EFS marking the robot’s movements cleanly through the walls. “Non-Employees are not permitted in book storage. Please leave the area if you do not have your employee identification. Thank you for your cooperation.” The way its obviously synthetic voice had been worded to be so polite only seemed to add an extra layer of disturbing to listening to its approach. I raised the pipe higher into the air, readying myself for the moment it rounded the corner
Finally, the form of the robot came close enough for me to actually see it. The thing looked like some kind of bizarre mockery of equinity, the shape was right but the details were all wrong. Colored a dull grey, a few shades darker than the hallways, it had a bulbous body which seemed to be constructed of three interconnected spheres. Where a pony’s legs would normally meet the body were large spheres from which overly wide and stumpy legs extended, knees similarly over-large and instead of hooves it had pyramid shaped feet. Its neck was set only slightly up from its main body and its head lacked any of the normal shape of a pony, instead being rounded with a pale white light which illuminated its surroundings. The mechanical voice spoke again from right next to me, “All employees are required to wear their identification at all times. Please stand still so that this unit can scan for identification.”
I paused for just a brief moment, the machine before me looked so strangely familiar and horribly wrong at the same time that it was nearly comical. I wondered briefly what pony had thought this was a good visual design for an automated defense system. My moment of distraction was all the machine needed to finish its scan, however, as it spoke again, “Unidentified personal on the premises. Security alert. Employees should evacuate area. Please surrender and all just law enforcement will be used.” As it spoke I snapped back to reality, the passive blip turned a bright burning red as the light where the machines head should have been glowed brightly a moment before a bolt of magical energy lanced across the room to carve a partially-melted path across one of the filing cabinets.
In a mixture of panic and surprise I whipped the pipe I had been levitating around as hard as I could towards what passed as the machine’s head. The crunch of metal on metal filled the air as paint was smashed aside and the machine’s armor dented noticeably. Again I swung, smashing the machine hard enough to throw it slightly off balance, sending its return blast wide of me and into the overhanging light which exploded in a shower of sparks, casting the small room into shadow. Desperate now I kept beating on the thing, until the glowing lamp on its head cracked open. A moment later it turned that distinctive color of red briefly before exploding, a fine spray of shrapnel digging lightly at my coat and skin as I had been too surprised to even cast my shield spell. The robot slumped to the floor in a sparking heap as I looked around frantically to be certain Silent Requiem was okay, spotting her peeking out of a drawer where she had taken refuge.
For a moment danger seemed to have passed, until I heard the distant sound of metal on metal and the now-familiar mechanical intonation of another of the machines, “Alert. Security protocols engaged. Lethal force authorized. Civilians should seek cover. This unit cannot be held responsible for accidental death or dismemberment.” Turning my head in the direction of the sounds I could spot five more red blips on my EFS, and my pipe wasn’t very happy about being used to blunt-force trauma a machine to death. It was going to be a bad night.
*** *** ***
*CLANG*CLANG*CLANG*CLANG*CRUNCH*
The fourth metallic not-a-pony fell to the ground in a broken heap. The pipe I had been wielded was, at this point, looking distinctly more like a boomerang. The poor accuracy and slow speed of these machines had at least made stopping them relatively simple. A few lost feathers and some minor clips to my mane weren’t going to kill me, and a good night’s sleep with the last of the healing bandages would be more than sufficient to make up for it.
More worryingly, in every room we’d passed there was no signs of left over supplies. Ammunition boxes were empty, medical boxes cleaned out, as near as I could tell whomever this R was they were no slouch at scavenging. Even the shelves looked like they’d been cleaned with a dust broom, not even a single empty bottle! Who does that!? It was slightly infuriating, I’d been reduced to using a chunk of metal pipe as my only weapon. The voices in my head kept complaining that this was completely and utterly beneath me. For once, I unequivocally agreed.
At least, though, we had finally made it to storage room 7D. A large door frame stood open before me, the small yellow lettering which declared the room number stenciled upon the wall in light yellow paint. Silent Requiem squeezed past me quickly into the room, not that I could blame her. With the energy discharges and metal coating of our enemies all she’d been able to do was take cover behind me since we entered the basement. At least this was the room the book we were looking for was supposed to be in.
The interior of the room was much like the exterior of the room, a boring metallic grey color with pipes running along the ceiling which had once carried water and air to the building above. The room itself was semi-circular with shelving units along every wall except for a single large table against the back wall. The shelves had been cleaned with the same meticulous care as everything else in the basement. On the table against the back wall was a safe, its door hanging open and a key still sitting in the lock.
As I stepped into the room Silent Requiem was busily climbing over the shelves searching them for anything worth taking. My heart sank at the state of it, not a single slip of missed paper. The other listing hadn’t had the book I wanted on it, but there was always the possibility that the ponies due for the delivery had removed it from the list later, or that it had been taken by them and replaced. The thought of losing that tome to the fire which had destroyed this place settled into my stomach like a cold metal block. Some part of me wanted to cry over the loss, while other parts were telling me to chase down this R and find out where the books had gone. Right at this moment, though, I just wanted my wings to stop hurting so much.
Carefully I pulled out the last of our medical bandages and wrapped them around the scorched remains of half a dozen flight feathers. Burned when I had been just a bit too slow getting out of the way of one of the energy beams. I hoped they’d grow back properly, without them I wasn’t going to be flying any time soon. Somehow that disturbed me, despite the unnaturalness of my body the idea of having part of it taken away from me forever was still horrifying to contemplate.
A gentle tug on my mane told me that Silent Requiem had finished her searching. Looking up from where I had secured the bandages, poorly but better than nothing, I followed the filly across the room. She leaped from the ground up on top of the table against the back wall with remarkable effortlessness. Evidently, she wasn’t just good at hiding. She shoved her head near the wall, digging at the back of the desk with her forehooves then looked up at me hopefully.
For a moment I was confused. I certainly couldn’t move the entire desk, it looked like it was bolted to the floor, and trying to move the entire wall seemed like a wonderful way to have the whole of the library come collapsing down on us. Requiem meanwhile began to look annoyed, tapping a hoof against the back of the desk and the wall behind it, motioning at it with her head.
Approaching the desk I reared up on my hind legs and leaned across it, trying to get a closer look. There was a small gap between the back of the desk and the rear wall, where part of the desk’s top had cracked and collapsed from age. Now, with my attention brought to it, I could make out a faint golden glint in the darkness behind the desk. Carefully I concentrated my magic to grab hold of the corner of the gold and begin to pull it free of the rear of the desk.
A few moments later I was floating a relatively large book with a brown cover emblazoned with a golden unicorn head and bound with golden hinges. Legends and Lore: A Complete Collection one of the voices in my head repeated quietly to me. It looked familiar, like something pulled from my most fond memories, a secure and happy feeling of a time I could no longer remember which I desperately wanted back. Silent Requiem was practically beaming with pride at having found such a treasure, and I certainly couldn’t blame her. Even the meticulous searching of our predecessor in this place had missed it, after all!
By this point I was feeling exhausted, between all the fighting, the stress of keeping my shield up in the rain and the emotional roller coaster which this place had been for me so soon after finding anything to hope for, I wanted to sleep for a month. But we didn’t have time for that, “Come on Requiem. Let’s go find somewhere to rest.” I smiled happily at the prospect, “I’ll read you a bedtime story!”
Requiem leaped down from the desk and practically pranced out of the room, so proud of her discovery and her chance to have fun. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed genuinely happy and without concern. Somewhere in my mind that felt perfectly right, just the way a filly should be. I knew it wouldn’t last, but for that one moment I felt glad I could do anything for her.
We returned back up the stairs and into the office where we had stopped earlier. Requiem laying down on the edge of the mat in the corner, I settled down beside her, only half-way onto the cushion. Another reminder of how unnatural I was, but at the moment it didn’t matter. With care I extended a wing over Requiem, holding her close to my side. I slowly opened the book, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over me as I began to read, the words forming in my mind almost faster than I could see them on the page, “Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria...”
“Raise your voice to the heavens and let the world echo with your deeds.”
Connections are important. Without them, friends drift apart and allies are lost in the darkness. Through them, we leave our mark on the lives of others, both in actions and in words. When cut off and alone a friendly voice can give us the strength to carry on. When fear reigns above all else sometimes all you need is someone to remind you of your purpose. Without a way to connect to one another, ponies are weak and scattered.
But, connections are also dangerous. Through our relations to one another pain spreads. When we say the wrong things friends can be lost. The connections which bring us together can drag us down as a whole. When we leave behind marks of our passing, connections with others and memories, our hoofprints sink into the world. Others can find them, follow them and learn of us through what we leave behind, for good or for ill.
*** *** ***
The early morning light cast a pale shine across a broken and pained landscape. Pools of standing water remained amongst the shattered remains of the roadway from the rain the night before, having stopped before the sun rose. Around us spread buildings, broken and collapsed, their frames barely remaining intact enough to distinguish them from the cracked pavement and bent signs of a long-dead city. Once this place had been filled with life, now shattered by war and time.
A great building dominated the skyline before us, stretching at least four stories into the air. Long ago it had been built of beautiful white marble, now stained in strange hues by rain and the passing of ages. It seemed to sag slightly to one side, where a part of the structure had collapsed and been rebuilt with multi-colored stone and metal, obviously patched by whatever ponies now called it home. Those same ponies had built a wall all the way around the building, reaching up far enough to cover my view of the bottom two floors. In the distance I could barely make out the shapes of something resembling ponies walking along the tops of those walls, but their profiles seemed wrong somehow. My PipBuck marked the location on my map as ‘Ministry of Peace Forward Hospital’, information silently stolen from the letter marked R it seemed, though in its current condition it resembled something more akin to a fortress.
As we approached I could feel Requiem moving closer beside me, barely more than a hoof’s width from my legs. She had returned to her typical tendencies since we left the Library, moving quietly and low to the ground, so much so that only the way I could sometimes see her swaying away from me when avoiding getting underfoot made it clear to me she was even still there. It was doubtful that those on the walls of the fortress before us would even be able to see her at any distance.
Just as I was contemplating whether or not they would be able to tell Requiem was with me we passed close enough to the building for my E.F.S. to begin to pick up those inside the walls. Two on the tops of the walls and two more somewhere more towards the center, though I couldn’t see them. Almost instantly the road before us exploded in a cloud of gravel and fire, the air filling with a horrible sound like thunder. Frantically, I cast my shield around the both of us before any more shots could land and cursed my stupidity, I hadn’t even stopped to consider that the figures around this building would shoot at me on sight!
The thunderous detonations continued around me, sending a massive cloud of broken pavement and shrapnel rebounding off my shield. It was fortunate they had begun firing on us from so far away, had we been any closer they might have actually managed to hit me directly with one of their explosives. As it was the detonations surrounding us were dramatically less of a threat. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t the chance of a lucky shot.
Frantically I looked around for any sign of something I could use for cover, the brilliance of the explosions combined with the steady thunder they emitted making it difficult for me to focus on my surroundings. Unsurprisingly, Requiem found cover before I did, as she began sprinting towards a section of overturned pavement not far from our location. Without thinking I turned to follow her, diving behind the section of artificial rock as I grabbed it with my magic and did my best to heave it up further, to create a proper wall between us and the source of the bombardment.
The effort of moving the dislodged piece of pavement was enough to aggravate the headache the continuous thunder was giving me, further scattering my already panicked thoughts. As I did my best to collect what remained of my concentration the onslaught rained down on our makeshift cover, splitting off chunks of the hardened pseudo-rock, it wasn’t going to last us very long at this rate and they didn’t seem at any concern of running out of ammo.
Frantically I began to go over my options in my mind. Option one, take Requiem and run away. Possible, but dangerous as we would have to leave our cover and worse we were still in dire need of medical supplies, it would also leave me no closer to finding the raiders who had slaughtered Requiem’s family. Option two, teleport to the wall and attempt to counter attack. A quick check of my PipBuck confirmed what I had known since last night, I was out of functional weapons, and I was fairly certain my hooves couldn’t beat grenades and missiles at short range. Option three, try talking to them. Half of my brain revolted at that idea instantly as being both insane and stupid, the other half was too desperate not to get blown up to care. I could always try running away later.
I raised my head up and yelled as loudly as I could towards the wall, my horn glowing by reflex as I cast a simple spell without even pausing to think of its effects, a spell seemingly so basic and effortless I couldn’t believe I had somehow forgotten it, though some part of me insisted I had never known it to begin with. “We are not here to fight you!” The rubble around us shook slightly with the booming volume of my voice, echoing in the distance, “We only want to trade!” Scraps had mentioned before I left the Junkyard her belief that everypony needed something. If I were really, really lucky these ponies would need what I had. And wouldn’t just decide to kill me and take it.
Amazingly, after just a short time, the rain of munitions ceased. The thunderous roar which had filled the air began to clear enough for me to be willing to stick my head up over the, more than half destroyed, refuge Requiem and I had taken cover in. On the wall I could see the distant figures shifting back and forth slightly in their positions, it was obvious even to me that they were talking.
If worse came to worse I would grab Requiem with my magic and flee as swiftly as my wings could carry me. I might not be able to get away even then, but there was a chance, right? And any chance is better than no chance at all.
Seconds crawled by like hours, the tense feeling in the air making every breath agonizingly frustrating. I couldn’t tell what they were talking about from here, but I had to hope that with the break in firing they were at least considering I might be telling the truth. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice answered, roaring at augmented volume which surpassed even the thunder of their guns.
“Wait there. We will send somepony to speak to you. If you harm him, we will not hesitate to shoot you.”
Well, it was a step in the right direction, at least. Then again, given that they hadn’t hesitated to shoot me even when I had done absolutely nothing to them I wasn’t certain how much I could trust that proclamation. I just had to hope that they’d come to a decision which was actually useful to me.
I could feel Requiem slowly climb out from beneath me at that, where she had been hiding since we took cover, taking up a sitting position beside me instead. She wobbled just slightly on her legs and looked a bit dazed as she slowly uncovered her ears from the riotous sounds which had filled the air a moment earlier. Looking down at her I did my best to give a reassuring smile, disheartened slightly when she still backed away from my vision. She trusted me enough to protect her, but evidently not enough to be comfortable with me looking at her. Somehow that felt so very wrong. Part of me desperately wanted to sweep her up in my wings and tell her everything would be okay, that she didn’t have to be afraid of the world, while another part was viciously mocking the first part for being so naive.
The squeal of metal against metal shocked me out of my introspection. In the distance I could see a part of the wall split open, a gate which had been difficult to see separately at such long range. The two markers on my EFS I had seen before behind the wall were moving apart, they must have been opening the gates, three more having appeared between them. Once the gates were open wide enough the three stepped through and I could immediately see that those great metal constructs were closing behind them, giving me only a moment’s view of the courtyard beyond and the doors of the hospital, too far away to make out any details.
Slowly the three markers approached our position as I began to be able to resolve them into individual ponies. Two of them wore the distinctive armor of the Steel Rangers, their helmets matching the one which Scraps had had me dig out of the Junkyard before I left, save that where the armor in the Junkyard had been an unpainted metallic grey these armors were painted vibrant apple-red. The third was a brown earth pony with a darker brown mane, dressed in a dingy red robe which looked like it hadn’t been washed in a month. His trepidation at bargaining with me was clearly written across his face as they approached, but his two companions seemed to be enough to give him confidence I wouldn’t attack.
When they got close enough he finally spoke, in a comfortable volume, “I have been sent to do business with you.” The way he said it made it clear that he wasn’t happy about that fact, but was at least willing to talk to me, “You will have to lower your shield if we are to conduct proper trading arrangements.”
That worried me. Without my shield I was little more than so much battlefield skeet against the guns those two armored ponies were carrying. Then again, even with the shield I was only slightly better than that, and if no pony extended a hoof in trust we weren’t going to get anywhere anyway. Reluctantly, and against the urging of several other parts of myself, I lowered my shield before speaking in return. “I don’t have much,” a sad admission given that I’d picked up not one but two serviceable weapons at one point, “But I’ll offer what I can.” doing my best to give a relaxed smile as I activated my PipBuck’s inventory sorting spell and began to unload those things I was willing to part with.
A few moments later I had a small pile of materials for trade. A few dozen rounds for the now-long-destroyed Assault Rifle, two unexploded but badly charred grenades, a small bottle labeled Buck and a small pile of ammunition for what I guessed were originally the rifles one of the raiders had used to puncture my shield. The earth pony in the red robe gave me an extremely skeptical look at that, like he was almost embarrassed by how little I had to offer and thought I was deliberately wasting his time. Admittedly it was not all I had to my name, but I wasn’t going to trade away the two remaining bottles of purified water or the fruit I had acquired in Requiem’s home and I couldn’t even bring myself to consider selling the photograph or book from the library, not that I would expect these ponies to want them.
Requiem, for her part, was remaining as silent as ever and close by my side. Given how quiet she was, and how fixated the others were on me, they hadn’t even noticed her yet. When the earth pony spoke again he seemed more frustrated than anything else, “This is it? Ugh. Fine. For this we can offer you two healing potions and four yards of enchanted bandages.”
I could see Requiem move out of the corner of my eye, shifting forwards angrily. I could practically hear her complaining about the way he was shorting us on goods. I had to agree, but at the time I wasn’t in a good bargaining position and we were in desperate need of the supplies.
As the earth pony moved his hooves over the pile to make sure he had counted properly he finally caught sight of Requiem sitting by my side, her irritated look drawing his stare away from me. His demeanor instantly changed, from being unfriendly but business-like towards angry, “A filly!?” straightening up as he glared at me, “You kidnapped a filly!? And are dragging her across the wasteland??” My blood turned to ice in that instant as the two beside him took similar note of Requiem, who rapidly scrambled backwards on being stared at by the black eye pieces of their heavy armor.
For a moment I thought they might open fire, that Requiem would run away and I’d never be able to find her, that something terrible was about to happen. A dozen horrible thoughts ran through my mind, before fear gave way to anger at the accusation. I’d saved her! I hadn’t kidnapped her! I straightened up to my full height, spreading my wings wide and returned his glare, “Her name is Silent Requiem.” I leaned in closer towards him, “She is under my protection!” my nose barely failing to touch his as I pressed onwards, “Her family was murdered by raiders. Raiders, I might add, who came from THIS city.” waving a forehoof around at the surrounding destruction, before bringing it down on the ground with force enough to crack the pavement to punctuate my point, “I will NOT hear you blame me for what happened to her! If I had done nothing she would be dead, or worse!” my eyes seared angrily as I took a half-step forwards, forcing him downwards towards the ground with my bulk and anger. I could see the red glare of my own eyes reflecting off his, glowing from inside in time with my rage.
The earth pony reared backwards at my assertion, leaning further and further back as I pressed my face closer against his until he fell over onto his back in a rather undignified position. Quickly he righted himself before backing up between his armored allies, who quickly closed in beside him. For a moment I worried again that I might have just destroyed whatever chance of peaceful relations we had, before one of the armored guards spoke up, the voice from within that of a mare, “South-End Junction was hit?” the frantic nature of her voice made it clear she was not happy about that news. The fact that she knew what town it was without me saying so implied she’d been there, personally, before. A moment later she jabbed the earth pony in the red robe in the ribs, speaking to him in irritation, “We need to find someone to do the job now. Ask her, Waffle.”
Now I was just getting confused, too many conflicting emotions all at the same time made me nauseous. The earth pony, Waffle, slowly stepped forwards again, clearing his throat and doing is best to recover his prior demeanor, even as it was evident he was much more afraid than he had been before, “There is something else you could do, if you’re willing. We have been cut off from the other Rangers for several months now.” he frowned a moment, stamping his forehooves into the dirt, as though he were about to admit something he didn’t want to share but had little other choice, “Recent events, however, have made it clear we recover communication with the outside world. With news that South-End Junction has been destroyed, our primary source of food and water has now been cut off. What was once merely necessary is now a priority.”
I listened quietly to his explanation, glancing towards Requiem, she’d lost her home, these ponies risked losing their lives, how many more had the raiders harmed in that single instant of wanton slaughter? I couldn’t be sure, and I wasn’t certain I wanted to know. My gaze returned to the leader of the trio as I thought about that, “So what do you need me to do?” The way he spoke made it clear he didn’t expect things to last for more than a few weeks if nothing else was done, and I wasn’t going to abandon them any more than I could Requiem.
Waffle looked up, face turning from dour fear to showing the slightest signs of hope, “There is a radio station not far from here. We need you to go there and reactivate the relay booster. With it we should be able to get back in contact with the rest of the Rangers, hopefully enough to find another safe place to move to or to acquire more supplies.” he paused briefly, “Should that be impossible, disconnect the transmission controller and bring it back here. We’ll try to rig something up here temporarily at least. I can give you instructions on how to do those things on your PipBu-.” he paused in his speech, seemingly just now realizing that I even had a PipBuck, “Why do you..? No, not right now. One subject at a time.” closing his eyes in frustration, “You don’t have to do this for us. It’s certainly not your problem, after all.”
These ponies were suffering, I was here, I could do something to help them. Why wouldn’t I? That’s what ponies were supposed to do, right? Help each other. Certainly there were parts of me which wanted to help for that reason. Even the idea of just walking away made my stomach feel heavy and sick, like I would be abandoning something important to me. Though, to be honest, part of me wanted to accept just because I was afraid I could have stopped the attack on South-End Junction had I been just a little bit faster and another part wanted to do it purely out of hope that they would admire me for my actions, I tried not to think about those parts. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
All three of the ponies before me seemed shocked by that suggestion, even the one who had suggested telling me didn’t seem like she believed I’d actually try to help them, not that I could blame them for their disbelief. The earth pony cleared his throat and spoke up again, “Excellent. Then I will give you some instructions on how to do what we ask while my companions retrieve the supplies you wanted.” giving a glance towards the pony who hadn’t been insistent on asking me, “There’s one last thing you should know. We sent three Paladins into that radio station about a week ago, none of them returned. If anything happened to them, it would be appreciated if you could retrieve their ID tags from their remains. At least that way we could confirm what happened to them and set what’s left to rest.” he sounded sad at the prospect, but serious, it was clear that death of friends was a near-constant threat to these ponies, “If you do, I’ll try to find something special we can offer in return.”
The Paladin took a moment to gather the supplies I had dug out before, as I could feel Requiem pressing in against my side out of concern about all this. I wondered briefly how much contact the Rangers had had with South-End Junction and how well Requiem might know the capacities of these particular individuals. It was concerning to say the least, as my mind chewed over the idea that something out there was dangerous enough to kill several of them without even allowing time to call for help. I didn’t like the idea of walking straight into such an opponent, but on the other hoof I couldn’t bring myself to leave ponies in distress.
The Rangers delivered the medical supplies I was hoping for promptly. Gathering them up I turned towards the distant radio tower and began to walk, Requiem swiftly following behind to take her place beside me. The idea of asking the Rangers to take her in had crossed my mind initially, but after meeting with their trader I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what they would do with a filly like her, or even that they would take her in without reason. For now she seemed to trust me enough to stick close, and I had to hope I was good enough to keep her alive. Soon we were over one of the hills, the pale light of early morning filtering through dust in the air to cast a strange glow across the city.
*** *** ***
The pale light of morning had grown brighter by the time Requiem and I arrived at the remains of the ancient radio station. The building was short, square and utilitarian, not precisely ugly but it lacked the kind of once-attractive architecture of the Blueblood Central Library or Ministry of Peace Forward Hospital. Built of red brick, whatever paint had once covered its walls now long washed away by endless rain, the building stood barely three stories tall. Somehow that simplistic design gave it a kind of charm all its own, this was a place to spread news across the city, it didn’t need to look grand or impressive to serve that function.
Behind the station was the broken remains of what had once been its transmission tower. Once it had been easily four times the height of the station itself. Now it lay where it had smashed through the outer walls and lodged itself mid-way into the crumbled remains of what had once been a much larger building, now reduced to barely a few broken pieces of floor and a collapsing wall. Even from where I was standing it was obvious that it had not fallen naturally, the way the metal struts which had once held it upright were melted and charred, something had cut through its supports and pulled it down. Entering the building was seeming like a worse and worse idea all the time.
As we approached the building I could make out graffiti scrawled across the front walls. Some pony had taken the time to mark the building with a large blazing skull, the empty eye-sockets seeming to glow from within. A disturbing visage, but meaningless to me. Nearby an ancient poster remained, the color partially faded with age, the stylized form of a white-maned earth pony with a pale yellow coat stood in the foreground wearing a hard hat and worker’s barding. Her head was held high with pride as a great building stretched upwards from beneath the picture and above the top. ‘Every pony should do their part!’ written atop the poster, continuing at the bottom, ‘Help build a better tomorrow, today! Join the Ministry of Technology!’. The poster drew odd feelings of sorrow and anger from my heart, forcing me to look away before I was lost in my mind again.
As I tilted my head away I caught sight of a strange symbol, on the far side of the door from the poster. A small purple star, surrounded by five others, red, orange, green, blue and pink. It would have been easy to miss, as it was neither large nor central to the wall. Something about it felt important, a connection I knew I should have but couldn’t place. It made my heart ache in the same way the photograph in the library had.
A tug on my hair brought my attention back to Requiem as she looked up at me with a worried expression. I gave the best reassuring smile I could, her look making it obvious that she was afraid I was going to drift off again. My attention returned to the doors in front of us, large metallic doors built on easy hinges which had survived the end of the world with relative ease. Slowly I wrapped my magic around them and pushed them open, stepping inside. This time, Requiem decided to take up position behind me, evidently she was as worried about what we might find within as I was.
*** *** ***
As I stepped across the threshold into the radio station a distinctive aroma filled my consciousness. A sickly sweet smell, like over-ripe fruit mixed with crushed roses. In that moment I discovered that it was entirely possible to want to vomit despite not needing to eat. My stomach felt like it had been bucked, flopping over and struggling to escape from my body through my throat. Only the lack of contents to flee from it kept me from retching on the spot.
The sound of liquid splattering on hard flooring drew my attention downwards in concern, Requiem had suffered the same as I had but was unfortunate enough to have actually eaten breakfast just a few hours before. Whatever remained of the bottle of water and strange fruit I had recovered from South-End Junction now graced the hard tiled flooring. She seemed to be recovering even as I watched, and as moments ticked by the nausea passed. The horrible stench remained hanging in the air, but the initial shock of exposure was passed.
Requiem’s vomit joined a myriad stains upon the hard flooring, tiled in white and black checkerboard pattern which seemed to clash with the yellowing walls of the reception room. The room itself was spacious enough, a half dozen badly decayed chairs in various stages of falling apart sat against the walls, an over-hanging light fixture still filling the room with sharp white light. A desk at the far end of the room had been turned over onto its side, signs of multiple small impacts clear across its surface as the objects which had once been sitting on it were scattered haphazardly across the room. Two doors sat near the overturned desk, one which had been forced open and knocked off its hinges by some kind of impact and the other a large metallic door with no clear way to open or close it.
As I began to approach the desk the horrific aroma which lingered in the air grew stronger, mixing with another subtler smell of burnt wood and rubber. For the first time, Requiem seemed genuinely hesitant to follow me as I looked back towards her. She slowly crept around her own vomit, carefully remaining behind me. Walking largely without looking where I was going I approached the desk, a slight buzzing sound briefly registering on my consciousness just before a small object sailed passed my vision barely an inch from my head causing me to rear backwards by reflex. The buzzing grew louder as I turned my head to see where it was coming from, the purple glow of my shield filling my vision. My EFS suddenly alive with half a dozen red markers.
What greeted my eyes upon looking through the destroyed door frame was like some twisted mockery of nature. A horribly over sized, bulbous body colored an odd pastel blue with multi-faceted iridescent eyes covered in short bristly hairs which seemed to bend almost like unnatural legs. The grotesque monstrosity held aloft by wings which looked entirely too small to be able to maintain its flight. The creature opened its mouth, strained with overly thick mucous, and spat a sharp needle-like thorn towards me, managing to do little beyond leave some rainbow-colored goo upon the exterior of my shield. The buzzing filling my ears came from the creature as well as a small cloud of multi-colored specks behind it swarming near a piece of wall. The voices in my head matching my own feelings of disgust along with some distant feeling of horror at what I was looking at.
My moment of disgust gave way to a mixture of fear and rejection. What I was beholding was so completely wrong that even the idea of allowing it to live somehow felt horrific in its own right. In a moment of combined panic and rejection I wrapped my magic around the large desk sitting on the floor beside me, hurling it through the air at the bobbing and weaving thing before me. The desk sailed with graceful abandon across open air between us, filling the doorway a brief moment and blotting out my vision of the disgusting thing... Then continuing onwards across the room to smash violently into a door which I hadn’t noticed in my preoccupation with the buzzing monstrosity. The door smashed and crushed inwards, ripped from its frame as the small window in it shattered into tiny pieces. My target was, at least, reduced to less than pulp by the impact.
The buzzing sound did not abate with my overwhelming application of force. Instead it grew louder again as another of those strangely bulbous things floated towards the doorway, hurling more goo-covered shards at my shield, and this time I was fresh out of desks. Requiem, jarred from her sickness by the impact it seemed, crept past me towards the door. She moved low into the room, ducking down before leaping upwards to catch the bloated thing as it was preoccupied watching me. The sudden added weight of her landing dragged it from the ground as she smashed her hooves into one of its over-sized eyes, swiftly reducing the iridescent orb to pulp. She tore the wings from its back with her teeth and mashed it with her hooves until it stopped even twitching, shaking the goo from her coat as she tracked a few slight hoof-prints of grey-green glop away as she trotted back towards me.
For my part, I felt suddenly deeply embarrassed. Massive overkill to destroy something even a wasteland filly could handle on her own. Admittedly, I had no way to know if Requiem’s skills were average for a wasteland filly or if she was more exceptional than most, but at the moment it didn’t really matter. A great and powerful Alicorn, once regarded as one of the great monsters of the wasteland, which ponies hated and feared for prowess and stature, outdone by an unarmed foal. Some of me wanted to scold Requiem for rushing into danger, but a larger part just wanted to cover my face with my hooves in embarrassment. Instead I chose to take the steps through the door-frame into the room beyond, the continuous buzzing sound and the additional red markers on my E.F.S. worrying me enough to keep my shield up.
Calling the room ruined would be an insult to the state of the decaying buildings of the wastes. The room had once been a mixture of cafeteria and bar, the floor covered in the same black and white checkered tiling as the waiting room. Once the center of the room had been dominated by a large bar with shelves for bottles and drinks behind it and stools set up all around it. Now shattered glass, broken so fine as to be almost a powder, dusted the room alongside broken pieces of wood and twisted metal. The bar and shelves had been reduced to shrapnel by whatever catastrophe had visited the room. The walls, once covered in tastefully decorative wallpaper, were partially smeared with chunky red paste and black shards which resembled the carapace of some great insect. The buzzing of tiny bloatsprites was thickest around those horribly repainted walls, the random nature of the spread making it clear this wasn’t some planned design. I tried not to think about what had made up those stains.
Slowly I walked across the room, the sound of crunching glass easily audible with each hoof-fall. The horrors painted across the walls continued as I pressed onwards into the room, until I rounded the shattered remains of the bar to find half a pony laying on the floor. The left half, to be precise. Some great force had torn the pony apart, cleaving cleanly through their shiny black armor to splinter bone and strip flesh. The shattered remains lay upon the floor, motionless in their own right yet teeming with activity as hundreds of tiny insects crawled across the surface of the rotting meat and entrails seeking sustenance. For the second time today I felt like vomiting and only the emptiness of my stomach stopped me. A splayed wing rested broken and abused upon the tile flooring beneath the body, this had once been a pegasus, caught in an enclosed space by some powerful destructive weapon. Part of me wondered what a pegasus was doing in a place like this, part of me wanted to cry, part of me was angry at the waste, most of me was too horrified by the sight to think about anything else.
The soft crunching of glass alerted me to Requiem creeping up closer behind me. Quickly, I turned and swept out a wing to stop her, doing my best to hold my stomach in place, “Why don’t... Why don’t you go check out that closet over there?” nodding my head in the direction of the door which my hurled battering-desk had managed to break from its hinges, “There’s probably something interesting in there!” a half-hearted smile passed my lips. However horrific the wasteland could be, I wasn’t going to subject an innocent filly to that horror of rotting meat. I didn’t even want to subject myself to it!
The look of annoyance Requiem gave me spoke volumes to her willingness to listen to me, especially as I gave such a weak smile of reassurance in return. For a moment I feared she might step past me anyway, as I did my best to stay between her and the broken remains upon the floor. Finally, after what felt like forever, Requiem turned away and began to make her way towards the shattered doorway, climbing over the now-twisted desk and taking the time to yank each of the drawers open. As she disappeared into the small closet I quietly released a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding and immediately regretted it as the stench of rotting meat returned to my senses in full force. My eyes watered just slightly. This building was less radio station and more abattoir now. A monument to the tragic ends of some ponies who hadn’t even had the good fortune to die in a place where they would be buried.
Slowly I turned back towards the shattered remains of the pegasus, carefully moving past them. Had I the means I would have gladly destroyed the body on the spot. No pony, no matter what they had done, deserved to have their remains left to rot like that. I was so preoccupied thinking about what kind of creature would leave a pony in that state that it came as a complete surprise when my hoof sank into some unknown substance. The horrific, warm, squishing sensation made me at first fear I had just stepped into the remains of another pony. Nervously, I looked down, to find my hoof engulfed ankle-deep into a puddle of thick green ooze. In an instant I pulled my hoof free and did my best to shake the goop off, some part of me feeling like I’d just stepped on some pony’s grave.
As I shook my hoof clean the ooze began to collapse inwards to fill the hole I had punched in it, some of it sliding off a small metallic object. Still sickened and nervous I slowly wrapped my magic around the object and began to pull it free. The object was a small, reinforced metal tag with a set of minuscule gems embedded in it. An arcanotech device of some variety. As I turned it over in my magic to inspect it, it gave a slight click-hum and suddenly sprang to life. The gems glowed a pale green as the image of a tiny pony leaped into existence before me, alongside a short list of information.
A part of me recognized the device, a military identification tag intended to allow an injured or deceased pony to be recognized even if severely disfigured. More tellingly part of me recognized that name ‘Applejack’s Rangers’. My mind swam for context on why that name was so important, but found only madness and discord where there should have been memories. Even then, something about that name made me feel good, a distant kind of happy feeling like somewhere someone important was being treated right. My mind dwelt on that fact for only a moment before realizing what I was actually standing over. In a sense, my first thoughts on what I stepped in was right. The pile of glowing green ooze in front of me had once been one of the Applejack’s Rangers sent into this building.
Today seemed to be getting worse and worse, especially after it had started so well. Part of me scolded me for believing that the wasteland would be so kind as to give me a day without tragedy. The same part which had previously berated another part of me for wanting to make Requiem feel safe and happy. At the moment I wished it would shut up.
Sliding the metal tag into my bag I slowly turned back towards the storage closet. I desperately wanted to put this room behind me, to be anywhere but in here. Even somewhere as cramped as a storage closet would have to be an improvement over THIS. For once, at least, I was right. As I climbed up over the desk, having to crouch low to make it through the door frame with so much of it taken up by the now-twisted metallic construction, I could see Requiem had been sorting out the things she had found while I was away.
Pausing in the door frame, crouched low upon the desk, I watched her work. She moved with surprising efficiency, nudging each object into its own place with her nose before climbing the metal step-ladder somepony had left in the closet to reach another shelf, heaving whatever contents caught her attention off onto the floor and adding them to her pile. In her occupation with her task she didn’t seem to have noticed me, or she was actively ignoring me. It was hard to be sure which, though I had a difficult time imagining she could have missed me filling the entire door frame.
So enamoured was I with Requiem’s actions that when she came to a toolbox on the shelf and went to push it off it didn’t even occur to me to try and catch it with my magic. As the toolbox tumbled through the air I briefly caught sight of a six-colored symbol similar to the one outside the building just before it smashed into the ground. With a clatter the ancient latch, long abused by time, snapped open and the contents of the toolbox scattered across the floor. Requiem scrambled away from the sudden burst of unexpected noise, pressing herself against the wall of the small room in fear. My own attention shifted to the scattered pieces from the tool box. A wrench, a hammer, a dozen nails, nothing that special at first glance. Then I caught sight of a grey rectangular object, an opening on one end matching the connection on the side of my PipBuck.
Carefully, I levitated the grey metal object from amongst the debris and brought it forward to examine. The tape had landed face down when the toolbox burst open. On the opposite side was an odd diagram, but one which looked instantly and intensely familiar to me. Two alicorns, one white with a pink mane and tail, the other black with a dark blue mane and tail, were chasing each other. Between them was a circle, half golden and half silver, and around them were six distinctive colored stars. The symbol brought with it a wave of emotion which threatened to overwhelm me. Joy and sorrow swam through my mind in equal measure as my heart felt like it was being wrenched from my chest. Far away I could hear chanting and laughter, the sounds of ponies being happy. Without so much as a second thought I slammed the recording into my PipBuck and allowed it to download the contents. This was connected to me somehow, that much I was certain of, and I desperately needed to know how.
My PipBuck chirped as the transfer completed, labeling the newly acquired audio log Preacher’s Log #10. That meant there were at least nine more logs like this one somewhere in the wasteland. For the first time since my moment of clarity in the Junkyard I was absolutely certain I had found something related to my past, and there were nine more pieces of it out there waiting for me. In that moment all the horrors of this building were forgotten, whatever pains might have or would still be visited upon me this day didn’t matter in the slightest. Frantic to hear anything about my past, anything which might lead me to where I was supposed to be, I toggled the recording on, fighting back tears of fear and joy. The voice of a mare greeted me, not filled with the hope or joy I had wished for but with exhaustion, anger and sorrow.
“Blessed be the Goddesses and the Six. May their path lead us back towards greatness and their lessons mark our way.
“I hope whomever finds this is in a better state than we are today. We got hit by raiders again yesterday.
“Got myself shot. Through the leg when the main body of the raiders attacked the caravan. Hurts to stand right now, doing my best not to move.
“We won. I suppose that should be obvious, since I’m recording this and not painting the inside of some ruin somewhere with my blood. But I’m not sure ‘won’ is the right word. We survived, but we lost.
“Merry is dead. They had a sniper up in one of the nearby buildings. Got her before we even realized they were there. It was horrible. I was standing right next to her mid-sentence when her head just exploded. It could just as easily have been me. Or Makeshift.
“... This... This is going to sound horrible. But I almost wish it was me. I was right there, and I couldn’t do anything to save her. The raiders took her away without even pausing to breathe. When they attacked they almost seemed delighted to watch their fellows die. Like any death, even their own, was good.
“The wasteland is broken. It’s perverse and dangerous. The ponies out here don’t want to listen. And... And worst of all... I think it’s breaking me too. When Merry died like that, barely a hoof-step away from me, all I could think about was how hard it would be to get the stains out of my robe. She’s still stuck to it, little bits of her clinging to the cloth, not enough spare water to wash it properly.
“...
“We’re holed up in an old radio station right now. Hopefully you already knew that, if you found this recording. Makeshift thinks she can get the transmitter working again, maybe send some news back home. Let them know we’re still alive out here.
“Home. What I wouldn’t give to be home again right now. To sit down to just one more of the High Priestess’ sermons. To listen to her talk about the goodness of ponies and the way things should be. To eat a good hot meal, to spend a day at the spa.
“...
“Sounds like Golden Bit is gathering up the caravan to have dinner. I should go, eat something, even if I don’t feel hungry. Starving myself won’t bring Merry back.
“She deserved better than this. All of us do.”
My heart sank as I listened to the recording. This was a piece of somepony’s history, but it wasn’t mine. It felt like somepony had ripped my heart out listening to that message. So much of my hopes had been dredged up in the moment of recognition, only to be dashed upon the rocks of reality. Worse, somepony had recorded this in their time of need. I wondered briefly whether they had ever made it home, found their solace and peace. The voices in my head were of mixed opinion, many reminded me that this wasn’t my problem, others felt sorry for the mare in the recording, one told me that I had something I had to do here before I could have a breakdown. That last voice was winning, at the moment. Mostly because it had support from the parts of me which desperately wanted to be anywhere but here.
As I roused myself from my introspective stupor I noticed that Requiem had finished assembling the last of the things from the closet. She was sitting in front of the small piles, looking up at me impatiently. The annoyance from my prior insistence that she come in here mixed with some slight degree of worry over the way I was acting. I did my best not to think too hard on how she must have felt about me at that moment, instead focusing on gathering up the collection of objects in my magic and depositing them into my saddlebags. A few dozen bottle caps, two empty Sparkle~Cola bottles, two still-sealed cans of beans, a badly damaged tin which had had most of its front scratched off leaving only ‘nt-als’ visible and a single, pristine, coffee mug. Not precisely the most impressive collection of goods, but it was something.
Carefully, I backed out of the closet, turning to face the cafeteria again. Doing my best to shut out the horrors of this place my eyes moved towards the far side of the room. A staircase leading up to an open door, and what looked like a hallway beyond. The constant buzzing of the tiny bloatsprites in the room was beginning to grate upon my nerves as I started moving across the room towards the base of the stairs. Requiem, thankfully, contained her inquisitive desires and followed after me, the soft sound of wood and glass shuffling across broken flooring making it easy to tell where she was.
*** *** ***
My hooves fell upon another bloatsprite. The feeling of it crushing beneath my weight sent shivers up my spine and made me dearly wish for enough water to take a proper bath. Nearby I could hear another ‘thunk’ as Requiem landed on a second bloatsprite further down the hallway from me. The last red dot on my E.F.S. went dark as she crept quietly out from one of the side rooms, shaking ooze from her mane and coat. However bad it was for me to have jammed my hooves into these things, Requiem had practically bathed in them. I couldn’t begin to imagine how she could be comfortable doing that, yet she didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned about it. I had to pause in wonder as she slipped past me further down the hall. How often had these creatures been a problem for the survivors at South-End Junction that even a filly seemed to know the best way to destroy them?
The second floor wasn’t much better than the first. In some ways it was worse. Comprised primarily of a long, narrow hallway with several smaller rooms off to each side. A recording studio, a few small offices and a mixing booth. The walls here were covered in similar red smear mixed with black metal fragments, scorched and partially destroyed by whatever weapons had ended the lives of the ponies here. There was no signs of intact bodies here, at least. The only sign beyond the state of the walls that there had been any ponies in these rooms at all was another small pool of green ooze. I had found another small tag floating in it as we fought our way past the half-dozen bloatsprites which had accumulated in the smaller confines of the upper floor. This one belonged to a stallion named Winter Breeze, another member of the Applejack’s Rangers.
I wondered briefly what had caused this tragedy as I began to ascend the stairs towards the third floor. Had whatever they were fighting over been worth it? Was there anything worth such a horrible waste of pony lives? Part of me said I was stupid for asking, after all I had killed six ponies just to save Requiem. So far I only had evidence of four deaths in this building. Another part of me countered with the belief that Requiem’s life was worth more than some raiders who would have raped and murdered her.
The idea that some ponies deserved to live more than others did somehow felt horribly wrong to me, yet familiar as well. After all, I had been trying to find those same raiders since leaving South-End Junction, hadn’t I? Surely some group willing to murder an entire town just out of petty vengeance weren’t going to stop just because I asked politely. I felt sick to my stomach, and not just because of the horrible stench for once, but did my best not to think about it. Thinking about it too hard just made my head hurt. Too many conflicting answers, not enough space to consider them all properly. Better to just keep moving, focus on what’s in front of you.
In front of me, at that moment, was the room we had come here to find. I had reached the top of the stairs and found the transmitter room. Its state was comparable to the cafeteria we had first passed through, if slightly less gore-ridden. The walls were pockmarked where smaller weapons fire had dug bullets into the construction, mixing with the deep gouges and scorch marks which reminded me of the weapons which Scraps’ robot had attacked me with in the Junkyard. The room itself much more simple and undecorated than anywhere else in the building. Red brick painted over with simple colors, a plain wood floor and a half burned out lighting fixture was all there was to the room.
The broadcasting equipment would have been the only truly noteworthy thing in the room, were it not for the two sets of uniquely designed armor laying on the floor motionless. The vibrant red colors of the Applejack’s Ranger armor was familiar to me now, after my encounter that morning. The other armor was the same black and green design as had been worn by the corpse left downstairs. Both of these sets seemed to be intact and there was no indication of the state of their inhabitants. I wasn’t certain if that made the sight more or less horrific, as I briefly considered what the interior of those suits must be like.
I slowly stepped over the threshold into the room proper, heading towards the controls for the transmitter. It was obvious that simply reactivating them wouldn’t do any good, not with the radio array collapsed like that. So it was time for plan B, recovering the transmission controller to return to the Applejack’s Rangers. Thankfully, Waffle’s instructions were both step by step and relatively in-depth. Within a few moments I had my PipBuck connected to the system and could access the release mechanisms to open it for retrieval. Somewhere along the way I heard my PipBuck chirp unexpectedly, but I was too busy trying to make sure I did things in the right order to pay attention to why.
It only took me a few minutes to get the radio control panel open and retrieve the deceptively small bundle of wires and gemstones which orchestrated the entire transmission system. In that time Requiem had entered the room and began her characteristic inspection of anything and everything she could get her hooves into. Which in this case wasn’t much, as she seemed to be avoiding both of the corpses rather pointedly. I stepped forwards and gently cleared my throat, “Come on Requiem. We should get back to the Rangers with what we found.” I didn’t think it needed to be said, but somehow saying it made me feel better. The idea that we wouldn’t have to remain in this fetid, vile place any longer was comforting.
The trip out was vastly easier than in, at least. The sealed door I had seen in the lobby had a release switch on this side. A single swift kick and the door slid open automatically, leaving us free to depart through the main doors once again. The fresh air outside the building was indescribably perfect compared to how horrific the interior had been. Even the usual damp, heavy atmosphere of the wastes was vastly preferable to that place. Slowly the two of us set out again across the wrecked landscape, climbing across broken streets and cracked pavement. The path back to the Applejack’s Rangers was simple, if not particularly short.
*** *** ***
By the time I could see the looming form of the Ministry of Peace Forward Hospital once again the day had passed to late afternoon, only an hour from darkness at most. The hospital itself looked much as we had left it, which wasn’t terribly surprising. What was more surprising was that I could see a figure sitting outside the front gates as we reached the same area the Applejack’s Rangers had met with me earlier that day. The figure rose from their position and trotted towards us. I could see two more Applejack’s Rangers up on the walls again, making me briefly wonder how frequently the hospital came under attack that they needed constant guard.
As the Applejack’s Ranger came close enough for comfortable conversation a familiar female voice crackled from the speakers, the same who had insisted that Waffle offer us the opportunity to help them that morning, “You’ve returned. Excellent. Then you did what we asked?” I nodded, still mostly numb from emotional roller coaster which the interior of that building had been, “Good. Elder Muffins wishes to speak to you. Please follow me.” Despite her polite wording it was obvious this wasn’t so much a request as a demand. A dozen dangerous situations flitted through my mind, warnings about how bad an idea it was to follow her into the heart of their control flashing past so fast that I could barely even make sense of one before a more horrible possibility presented itself. As usual, my thoughts proved as useful to making a decision as hurling a dozen buckets of paint at a canvas was for creating fine art.
I cast a wary glance towards Requiem, who shrunk away from my gaze slightly, looking back down towards the Applejack’s Ranger with a mixture of worry and irritation. Never more than that moment had I wished Requiem would say something, anything, to me. Her expression made it clear that she knew something was strange about all this, but she still didn’t seem to want to make even the slightest noise as she began to creep forwards behind the Applejack’s Ranger. I rose and followed along behind the two of them, giving the occasional nervous glance towards the armored ponies on the walls who weren’t even trying to disguise the way they were following me with their weapons. The message was clear, even to me, ‘Do anything unexpected and die’.
The screech of metal against metal filled the air to an almost deafening level as we approached the massive gates. They looked enormous even compared to me, and I could scarcely imagine what the Rangers would need such a large entrance for. As we passed the gate the courtyard stretched out before us. A large open area covered in smooth pavement which still had the faintest remains of lines painted upon it surrounding the main building of the hospital.
The front of the hospital itself was worn like the rest of the building, once beautiful white and pink stone now stained brown and green by centuries of rain and wind. Metal letters were sunk into the stone above the main entrance ‘HOSPITAL’, the small cross with a butterfly at the center sitting just off to one side, the same symbol as had been on Scraps’ medical robot. The front doors of the hospital were closed, one of them having been plastered over with a poster, ‘Heroes come in every shape!’ read the top, a trio of ponies, one unicorn, one pegasus and one earth pony standing together at the center of the poster each carrying a unique stylized version of a personal firearm, ‘Together we can claim victory!’ was scrawled across the bottom. This one didn’t seem to provoke spontaneous emotional reaction, at least.
A trio of ponies sat several yards away from the doors as we approached, one of whom was wearing the same familiar Applejack’s Ranger armor as our guide. One of the two remaining, an ice blue unicorn stallion with a mane which was a mixture of blue and teal, wore a red and brown robe marked with a small patch showing three bright red apples. Part of me ached for that symbol, the same way it had at the name of the Applejack’s Rangers, but I couldn’t put a hoof on why it seemed so important, an infuriating feeling to say the least. The third member was a dark green earth pony stallion with a greying orange mane, wearing a different style of red robe with a high collar, sporting a similar patch of his own. The way the others were sitting around him it was obvious he was by far the most important of them.
Our guide stepped out forwards to take up a position opposite the other armored pony beside the apparent Elder of the Applejack’s Rangers here. The other robbed pony speaking up, “I still do not believe this is a good idea, Elder. This one may have proven useful, but she is still one of those things. How can you possibly expect her to be honest? You remember what the last ones did!”
That stung. The parts of me which remembered what I looked like in the mirror in South-End Junction and how Scraps had first reacted to me reminded me I should be expecting this, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling from other parts of me that he was wrong! I was as much a pony as anyone else was! Wasn’t I? I hoped I was, at least. A disturbingly large part of me felt more insulted that he had dared to talk down to me like that, professing that I should do something to prove my own greatness and then he would have to listen! Given the way that the two on the walls had been watching me, that seemed closer to a swift way to suicide, so I did my best to ignore those suggestions.
“She’s probably the one who destroyed South-” His speech cut off mid-sentence as the armored pony who had lead us in dropped her hoof to the hard pavement beneath us, creating a resounding sound of metal on stone. The way she turned her head to regard her compatriot I couldn’t imagine the death-stare hidden behind that metal mask. Evidently the robed pony actually COULD imagine it, as he instantly went silent.
Finally, Elder Muffins cleared his throat, speaking with a deep gravely voice which sounded at least twice the age he seemed to actually be, “Your objection is noted, Head Scribe Frozen Fog.” his intonation and formality was all he seemed to need to show of his irritation at his subordinate, who sat silently with an irritated look upon his face. “Now. Star Paladin Lilac informs me that you’ve found what we sent you for?” the elder looked up towards me hopefully, though I got the feeling that it was as much formality as an actual question.
Carefully I levitated the hunk of metal and gemstones from my saddle bag over in front of the Elder, “I hope so. I followed Waffle’s instructions as closely as possible.” Frozen Fog recoiled slightly in surprise, obviously he had been expecting that I would fail, or at least that I would keep it for myself if I succeeded.
“Excellent! Fog? I’m counting on you to get something up and working, soon.”
Frozen Fog nodded at the Elder’s words, grasping the arcanotech device in his magic, “I’ll get to work immediately.” stepping away to move into the hospital, the way I could see him relax as he stepped away from me made his own thoughts on the matter of my presence even more clear. As though he needed to make it more obvious.
Elder Muffins looked up at me as he straightened out, speaking again, “Now, about the other thing we were looking for..?” I hung my head in some shame at the mention of that, I didn’t want to think about what had happened to the ponies there. I didn’t want to remember what I had seen. Strange as it sounds, after I had set out looking for memories, I found myself wishing I could forget.
Slowly and I pulled the tags from my saddlebag and floated them over to him. “There was a third, still sealed in their armor. I couldn’t recover the tag.” it was a shaming admission to make, leaving one of the dead behind unknown like that. But I hadn’t the skill to break into the armor, nor did I have the strength to carry something like that all the way back here.
His expression turned graven, “I see. I apologize for putting you through this on our behalf. It is not surprising, though it is still upsetting.” he paused a brief moment at that, “Do you know what killed them?”
Then it was my turn to pause, opening my mouth to answer I found too many conflicting answers to verbalize any one. It was like when I had been asked my name, the overlapping answers only driving my own mind to pain. Instead I answered with the one thing I could be certain of, “Pegasi. I... I don’t know how, or why.” pressing my lips closed nervously, hoping he’d actually believe me. Concerned he might assume I was attempting to cover for someone else.
Muffins’ expression turned from graven to horrified with amazing speed at that, “Pegasi? Here? Why would they..?” shaking his head a few moments as he looked up to me, “It is enough to know who is responsible. Thank you. We will see to it that their names are set to rest in a proper funeral at the least.” nodding his head towards the Applejack’s Ranger beside him, who’s name I realized I still didn’t know, who gathered up the tags and began to carrying them back inside. Leaving me alone with the Elder and Star Paladin. “I apologize for this, but we cannot allow you access to the hospital. However, you are welcome to stay in the yard inside the walls tonight. I will see if we can spare any food for your companion as well.” his eyes straying towards Requiem. Who shrunk away from his vision as she did from everyone else.
Star Paladin Lilac leaned closer, whispering something into Elder Muffins’ ear I couldn’t hear. He nodded in return before looking back to me, “I need to return and make certain that everything is handled properly. Please make yourself at home out here. I will send a scribe with some blankets and food soon enough.” I nodded half numbly at his offer, watching as he turned to head inside, leaving me alone with Star Paladin Lilac.
“I’ll show you where you can stay out here. I used to spend nights on guard duty pretty regularly, there’s a few places you can find comfortable for resting.” the artificial twang of the speakers on her armor conflicted with the over-all cheery disposition she seemed to have as she stood to lead the two of us onwards around the building. The place she led us to was a small mound where four cushions had been unrolled on the pavement, a sheet of metal set up over top of them to keep the rain off. It was hardly fancy, but it was more comfortable than sleeping on rocks at least. “Here you go. It’s not much but it’s the best I can offer outside of the hospital itself. Somepony will be out with some food and blankets soon. I need to go assist the Elder with updating duty rosters after the confirmation of death.” her voice sounded dour at the end of her statement, and I for once had absolutely no difficulty imagining why.
“Thank you.” I stepped forwards as Requiem leaped up to take a place on one of the cushions. Lilac just shook her head at my thanks, turning to head back towards the hospital.
She called back briefly over her shoulder as she went, “I’m sorry, about everything.” Something about her apology just didn’t make any sense to me at the time. Did she have some idea what had happened in the radio station? Was she familiar with what it was like to be me? The statement just didn’t make any sense to me, and was going to drive me crazy(er) trying to contemplate it.
Instead I decided to settle down on the cushion, turning my attention to my PipBuck, reactivating the Preacher’s Log. Some part of me hoped I had missed something in my first listening. Another part felt sorry for this voice in the darkness, wondering what she had endured to be where she was. Most of me wanted to believe that there was a happy ending at the end of her story, but part of me kept telling me that was stupid. Happy endings didn’t happen. Hope wasn’t worth the pain which came with it. I dearly wished I could have crushed that part of me underhoof. Instead I listened to that sad, angry, tired voice and let her words obliterate all semblance of thought.
“Blessed be the Goddesses and the Six. May their path lead us back towards greatness and their lessons mark our way.”
Notes: Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 4) New Perk: Foal at Heart - Your foalish nature shows through in your actions and words, causing consternation to some and giving you a natural connectedness to youths. You gain access to special social interactions with foals and certain adults, in addition you gain a 20% bonus to the starting disposition of all foals, you’re just naturally like-able that way. New Spell: Royal Canterlot Voice - Once used to address crowds at public functions, this volume-boosting spell makes a great party trick as well. As long as you don’t mind deafening anyone standing nearby.
“Friendship blossoms in the most unexpected locations.”
Memories are tricky things. They come and go without warning. Sliding from the recesses of your mind into your focus then retreating just as fast. Without them we wouldn’t be who we are. When we lose them we’re left with no idea what to do with ourselves.
But, how well do we really know them? They seem to have a will all their own, slipping away with time only to resurface again and again. The strangest things can bring them rushing back as though they’d never left. Even those memories we sometimes wish we could forget find their way to return when we least expect it.
*** *** ***
Light glinted from the top of the large wooden tower which dominated my vision. The distant shine made me reflexively press myself more tightly against the damp stone beneath me. A cool, wet wind blew through my mane as I stared into the distance through the binoculars given to me by Applejack’s Rangers. A parting gift alongside the canned food which Requiem had had the prior night for dinner and again this morning for breakfast.
I had been here for close to an hour now, hidden amongst a section of broken stone thrust skywards by the destruction of the surrounding street. Watching the raiders move about in their fortress. It had been a prison complex before the war, though some part of me insisted that it was absurd that any city in Equestria would possibly need such a large facility for criminals. Now it stood as a fortress around a group who would have been amongst the worst scum of ponykind in more peaceful times.
The center of the yard was filled with a massive wood and metal tower, patched together from the remains of a dozen other shattered buildings. When this place was still a prison it had been the main watch tower, but most of its construction had weathered away since the war. The glint of light at its tip had attracted my attention more than once over the course of the past hour. Now I was certain of what I had been seeing, the raiders had a sniper in the tower, watching the gates to the prison complex, ready to shoot anyone who trespassed.
The tower itself sat directly above the main building of the prison, four floors high with barred windows. The building itself was partially collapsed, not even patched together the way the tower was. It was the only remaining distinguishable building on the yard, everything else having been broken down into rubble long ago, leaving the yard filled with broken bricks and torn scraps of paper. I wondered briefly whether the raiders preferred it that way, or if they were just too lazy to clean it up.
The shattered remains of four more guard towers were easily visible at the corners of the large stone wall surrounding the prison. The wall itself had collapsed in places and been patched with makeshift metal which reminded me of the hasty reconstruction job done on the Ministry of Peace Hospital. Briefly my thoughts wandered to the prospect that someone with these raiders had some kind of architectural knowledge. Most of me felt that was absurd, where would they have learned it?
A large flaming pony skull had been painted on the patched parts of the wall, and another on the main gates of the prison. We had passed several more on our way here as well, a marker left by the raiders. Who were they competing with in these ruins that they felt the need to mark what was theirs? I didn’t know, and wasn’t sure I wanted to know. At the moment I was more concerned with how to deal with what I was seeing, rather than worry about potentially phantasmal threats.
The main gates of the prison were close enough for my E.F.S. to pick up four red markers. Two of them were obviously visible, guards standing outside the gates. The other two I could only assume were on the inside, waiting to ambush anypony foolish enough to try and force their way inside. The gates themselves were not as impressive as those the Applejack’s Rangers had maintained, barely twice the height of a pony and mounted on more normal hinges.
Briefly my mind strayed back towards Requiem’s home and the ponies I had fought there. They were all well armed, and there had been what? Eighteen of them originally? I had killed six, that left at least twelve more ponies somewhere in that prison. Twelve heavily armed ponies, in their home, with an unknown number of defenses. That prospect did not fill me with hope, especially after the trouble I had killing even those six. But I at least had a few abilities I didn’t think they would be expecting. The part of me which kept trying to tell me that they were just normal ponies and could never hope to match my greatness was a mixed blessing at the moment, as it at least made me more certain of what I was about to do even if it made another part of me revolt at the conceit.
Levitating the binoculars away from my eyes I turned my attention back towards Requiem, who had been hunkered down barely a hoof’s width away from me. She had been watching the yard in silence for as long as I had, and was a substantially smaller target. I didn’t think their sniper had noticed me, at least they certainly hadn’t decided to start shooting at me yet, so I couldn’t imagine they had noticed her. She shuffled back slightly as I looked at her, as timid to my gaze as ever.
“I’m going to go in there and find the ones responsible for what happened to your family.” Requiem’s ears raised instantly at that statement, even with my voice barely louder than a whisper, “You need to stay here. Make sure no one sees you. I’ll come back and find you as soon as I can.” The scowl which instantly filled Requiem’s face made her opinion on that prospect clear to me, soliciting a frown from me, “I don’t... I can’t let you come in with me. They’ll try to kill you!” my mind drifted back to the raiders who had first captured her, and part of me reminded me that ‘killing her’ would be the merciful ending. I didn’t want to think about how I knew that.
Requiem slumped slightly at my insistence, her scowl remaining, “If I don’t come back, go back to the hospital. I... I think they’ll take you.” I wasn’t certain why I would believe that. They hadn’t offered, and I hadn’t asked, but I had to hope they were good ponies who wouldn’t turn away a homeless foal. Requiem deserved a safe and happy home, and right now I was going to risk myself to save a prisoner who might or might not even be alive.
Part of me insisted this was the stupidest thing I had ever done, but it didn’t matter. Somewhere in that prison was a pony who had been captured by these raiders, they had made that obvious in South-End Junction even to me. I couldn’t just walk away from that. It would have been the same as if I had left Requiem to be taken by them. No pony deserved the kind of fate they would face there.
I gave a nervous smile to Requiem as she folded her legs over and rested her head on them, “You trust me, right? I’ll come back. I promise! … So, stay here and stay safe. Alright?” My voice was not filled with confidence, Requiem for her part simply glowered at me before going back to resting. I had to hope that was sign enough she was listening.
Slowly I backed down the hill, far enough to be out of visual range of the tower. I could see through the slits well enough to get an idea what was inside that tower. I had to hope there wasn’t anything massive in the way of my arrival, or this was going to be a very short trip. My horn glowed dark purple as the world imploded around me.
*** *** ***
Reality reasserted itself violently with the sound of metal breaking and an intense pressure against one of my rear legs. For the briefest moment my mind was filled with panic, fear that I had teleported into a solid object and just crippled myself completely. The shooting pain which went through my flank only seemed to reinforce that fear, but I barely had time to register it before my vision cleared of the glare of teleportation magic and I found myself staring at the raider sniper.
My unexpectedly violent arrival had already alerted the stallion to my presence by the time my vision cleared. At that moment he was struggling to get his sniper rifle clear of its mounting, frantically tugging at the locking mechanism which seemed to have jammed in place. I offered a silent, reflexive, prayer to Celestia for my fortune this day without even thinking about why.
With any hope of bucking the sniper into submission dashed by the tingling numbness in my rear legs my mind scrambled to improvise something to save myself with. At that moment my mind filled with a dozen different potential suggestions, all overwriting one another so quickly I couldn’t even keep track of them. Fragmented pieces of spells, demands of weapons, the desire to gore him on my horn. For a moment I lost myself to that madness, unable to focus or concentrate as my thoughts shattered.
The sharp clank of metal against my horn, and the sudden shock of cold which came with it, cleared the fog of madness in my mind enough to register the dark opening which hung less than a hair’s breadth from my eyes. Another moment and he would have pulled the trigger, ending my life with fire and steel. In a frantic moment of horror I wrapped my magic around him and his weapon and pushed as hard as I could.
The look of horrified surprise on his face as he found himself in mid air, his weapon having discharged harmlessly into the ceiling, seared itself into my vision for less than a second before he dropped out of sight. A long, panicked scream filled the yard, echoing in my ears. But it wasn’t the scream which truly disturbed me so much as the way it cut off abruptly and violently.
*WHUMP!*
The sound of crushing stone and the rumbling impact of a pony’s body finding its flight violently interrupted by hard ground echoed through the momentarily silent surroundings. I knew I should have been horrified about what I had done, but the moment of danger was past and my panic about the state of my rear legs reasserted itself. Worse, I could hear shouting from the yard below. My actions hadn’t gone unnoticed by those guarding the gates, and there was no way of knowing how many would be coming.
A soft tug with my rear legs elicited a sharp sting of pain and numbness which ran up my flank. Fear again swam in my mind as I turned my head to look, half expecting to find that my legs had been fused or punctured by some great metal object. What greeted my eyes instead filled me with relief and hope. The remains of a metallic bed frame were twisted up around my rear legs, the springs having been bent and pulled taught by my arrival as the mattress was forced to one side. My legs were intact, but the pressure from the springs was rapidly making them go numb.
With the immediate danger passed it only took a few moments for me to pull the springs loose enough with my magic to extract my legs. They tingled painfully for long moments, but I was free and mobile again. Casting my attention across the sniper’s nest. It wasn’t large, barely big enough to contain me and the bed. A small table was overturned near where the sniper had been standing, a shattered bottle of dark red liquid resting on the ground beside it. The still intact part of the label read simply ‘Berry Patch Vineyards’.
Far more importantly I spotted a pair of small metallic ammunition boxes sitting on the ground opposite the table. One contained large caliber rounds I could only assume matched the sniper rifle which was now resting on the ground far out of my reach. The other, unexpectedly, contained small metal disks with lights on one side and adhesive on the other. Land mines. Who puts land mines in a sniper’s nest? The thought seemed utterly absurd to me. But at the moment I wasn’t going to complain as an idea formed quickly in my mind.
Moments later I tugged the hatch in the floor open, descending from the sniper’s nest towards the rest of the prison complex. It was a tight fit, as I was once again reminded rather directly of how unnaturally sized everything seemed to be compared to me. Just once it would have been nice to go somewhere and find the world was actually built to my scale. But I wasn’t expecting that to happen any time soon.
The dark purple light from my shield illuminated the twisting staircase leading downwards. The center of the tower was empty and I briefly entertained the notion of simply jumping down and catching myself with my wings. Part of me reminded me that the limited space in here was almost certainly going to make spreading my wings properly impossible. So I settled instead for concentrating my magic, allowing the world to implode around me and reassert itself instantly at the floor far below the sniper’s nest.
*** *** ***
“... had a nasty fall, that idiot. What a way to get yourself killed!”
“Really. I knew he wasn’t the most coordinated of ponies, no matter how good his eyesight was. But I still can’t believe it was an accident.”
“Well the boss ordered somepony up there to find out what happened. The guards didn’t see anyone come in, after all.”
Two voices echoed across my awareness as I stood in a small store-room on the top most floor of the prison. It wasn’t much in the way of cover for a pony my size, I couldn’t even manage to get the door closed while I was inside. But I had to hope it would at least make it hard for them to spot me before they reached me. The voices themselves were familiar, the two ponies who had been mocking the remains of the mayor in South-End Junction.
My mind reeled in anger as I recalled that horror. Less than two days had passed and these two barely even noticed it! As they drew closer I could finally hear their actual hoof-falls, their conversation moving on to other topics though I barely even heard it. Filled with anger I raised my shield and concentrated, the world shifting instantly this time. The jump was short, barely a dozen hoof-falls away, reappearing directly behind the pair.
I moved before the pair even had a chance to turn around, snatching the small gun holstered at the earth pony’s side with my magic. The yelp of surprise at his weapon suddenly being missing was the last sound he ever had the chance to make as I opened up with the weapon without relent, not even bothering to activate my targeting spell. The resounding percussion of bullets echoed through the halls as his head was rapidly reduced to little more than red haze. Part of me insisted that it was better than he deserved, these ponies were monsters and deserved nothing less than destruction.
“Y-You!?” his companion’s words were barely audible over the roar of my gun as blood splattered across her flank and stuck to the exterior of my shield, “No! No, no! You can’t be here!” she backed away from me, grabbing hold of the bit for her battle saddle and jerking it angrily, tears in her eyes. The report from the heavy rifle mounted on her side rolled across my perception as the wind of the bullet’s passing whipped past my neck.
I didn’t dignify her with an answer, my anger at what had happened to Requiem’s family washing over all other emotions. The chorus of voices in my head demanded retribution, drowning out the tiny voices protesting. I lowered my head and charged.
The thunder of her weapon resounded through the halls again as sharp pain ran through my wing, but it didn’t matter, there was too much momentum behind my charge now for her to stop as my horn crashed through her armor and speared cleanly through her torso. Warm, wet blood dribbled down it across my face, a few drops making it as far as my lips filling my mouth with a thick metallic tang.
The unicorn raider gurgled quietly a few moments, her legs spasming and bucking as she pushed herself away from me, sliding off my horn and to the ground where she stared up at me with horrified eyes. “Wh-why..?” tears welled up in her eyes as she stared up at me in confusion, as though she truly could not fathom what reason I would have to fight them. The light of life fading from her completely a moment later.
It wasn’t enough. The chorus in my mind chanted, wanted more, demanded more. These two had defiled the dead, but they had all had their part in the destruction of South-End Junction. They were the reason the Rangers were now suffering. Why Requiem was without a home. They had earned this with their actions, and I was not going to deny them just repayment.
As I pulled the heavy rifle free of the battle saddle I could hear something else in the distance. A series of thunderous detonations shook the building, tiny bits of dust and plaster falling from the walls and ceiling closest to the remains of the watch tower. A moment later I could hear the death-screams of twisting metal and the riotous cacophony of crushing stone as the sniper’s tower toppled from its perch, the land mines having done their job admirably. If the raiders didn’t know I was here before, there was no way they were unaware now. Strangely, the idea that they knew there was something here to fear filled me with a sense of accomplishment and purpose.
I turned and rushed down the hallways, driven by the song of vengeance and destruction which resounded in my mind. I would find those who had tormented Requiem and make them pay. That was the way things were supposed to be. You protected what you cared about. Or so the voices said. Somewhere in the distance of my mind I could hear the jangle of chains.
*** *** ***
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*
The angry retort of my heavy combat rifle filled the air, three more raiders falling to the floor in a bloody heap. Between my teleportation magic and targeting spell they never even had the chance to see me. Satisfaction flowed as the three fell lifeless to the floor. Three less threats to peaceful ponies.
The carnage had grown uncontrollably since the first pony died. During my passing through the offices which dominated the top-most floor of the prison I had slain three others. With this group that made nine I could confirm dead, and some number more had been slain by my trap in the tower. The red blurs on my E.F.S. remained constant, tracking through floors and walls with equal ease. There was no sign of how many might remain, but it couldn’t be a small number.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. The chorus of anger and pain which surged through my mind demanded more. That it would never be enough. The distant sound of chains had grown louder, almost loud enough to drown out the din of battle as my collar felt hot and angry around my neck.
Bucking open one of the large doors which dominated the stairwells in the building I stampeded down the staircase. The world was a blur as I rushed onwards, rounding a corner to come face to face with yet another member of the raider band. An earth pony, who opened her mouth to say something which would never be heard.
*BLAM!*
My shot was instantaneous, not even pausing long enough to wait for her body to hit the floor before pressing on. Rushing onwards room by room, the thick blur of battle blending from place to place with every hoof fall. Shouts of pain and the gurgles of dieing ponies mixed with the clatter of chains and the thunder of my hooves on stone and steel, my weapons painting the walls red with anger and sorrow.
Stinging pain ran through my wing and my flank, but it barely mattered at all now. The screams of my enemies and their pain was all that meant anything to me. Even that barely managed to penetrate the haze of my mind. Something else did, though, a thunderous voice which echoed through the building. The same kind of amplified voice I had heard before from the Applejack’s Rangers.
“Somepony has attacked our home and is slaughtering everyone! We will not stand for this! We have owned this fortress since the day the world burned! Let no pony dare to trespass against us again! Gather your weapons, we will meet our attacker head on!”
The voice was filled with anger and confidence to rival my own. The tiny voices which protested what I was doing grew slightly louder, but were swiftly drowned out as more voices joined those demanding retribution. How many other ponies had these raiders harmed before I came along? How many more would they kill if I left now? I didn’t know the answers, but I didn’t want to find out either. I let the chaos of battle carry me onwards, my rage swallowing my mind and my regrets, it was so much easier that way.
*** *** ***
My hooves slammed down against the wood and glass door, shattering the obstruction into shrapnel which exploded across the small room. Two more bodies lay by either side of the door, oozing blood onto the dirty tile floors. My head pounded in time with my heart, eyes refusing to focus properly on anything beyond what was right in front of me. I rushed through the doorway without thinking.
*BOOM!*
The room exploded in violent noise as a sharp sting ran through my flank, drawing my attention instantly to the unicorn mare in the room. She looked so small and helpless compared to me, cowering behind a desk with a rifle gripped in her teeth. She’d had it aimed at the door frame even before I entered, firing a shot at the first thing to come through the door. Instantly her weapon exploded in dark purple light as my magic wrapped around it, yanking it from her mouth. She screamed in agony a moment, as a thin red line ran down her lips from the violent extraction of her weapon.
She retreated away from me, backing towards the rear corner of the room. Wearing dark red and black armor, she turned as she cowered and I saw her flank. The world froze in place, a symbol was painted upon it which seared its way into my mind. It resembled a horseshoe but upside down, placed in the center of a circle and struck through, as one might for a sign meant to deny somethings existence.
My head throbbed angrily at that sight, the sound of chains which had echoed through my mind exploded into a symphony of torment as it mixed with cruel laughter and broken sobbing. Familiar burning agony filled my flank, so intense as to remove even the aches of battle. The weight of my collar around my neck felt like it had grown unbearable in that instant, searing my flesh with phantasmal heat.
She stammered in confusion, speaking words which did not penetrate the haze of rage and sorrow which now mixed in my mind. Even the voices which had been cheering me onwards were silent now, as my every thought and desire bent towards a single purpose.
“Where did you get it!?”
The unicorn stared in confusion at me even as she tried to press herself closer against the wall. Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible beneath my rage, “... wh-what..? Get... Get what?” Get what? Could she not see it? Not know how important it was!? Could she really be so blind?
The intensity of my anger only grew as my hooves carried me closer, wings spreading wide to cast a long shadow over her hiding place, “Where did you get it!?” My mind throbbed and burned as though the candle of my past had lit a fuse, burning angrily towards cataclysmic release.
The unicorn bolted, streaking past me towards the door with surprising speed. But as fast as she was, she was not perfect. It took less than the beat of an eye and I stood in the door frame, my hooves in the air. Slamming down hard against her head, suddenly pinning her between the cracked floor and my great bulk, my hoof rested firmly upon her horn. She screamed in agony for the second time, blood pooling upon the flooring from her missing tooth.
Thrusting my face closer some degree of clarity managed to burn through the haze of my mind, “That armor. Where. Did! YOU! GET!IT!?” The walls shook with my question as my voice rolled like thunder across the destroyed halls. A drop of thick, half-dried blood fell from my muzzle to land just below her twitching eye, staining her white coat, as tears began to stream across her face. Two burning red points reflected in her iris, eye twitching uncontrollably out of panic.
“Th-the... There’s a pl-place, through the sewers, under... Ce-Central Junction. Found it... Found it there. Please... Please let me go!”
My hoof ground more angrily into the floor as the sound of cracking reached my ears. The rage which had carried me this far pushed onwards without hesitation as a resounding cracking sound filled the small space between us. The raider leader screamed in agony beyond anything I had ever heard before as her horn shattered beneath my weight. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Rearing up, I brought my hooves down as hard as I could against her mid-section. The sharp crunch of breaking bones filled the limited space again as she gurgled in pain. I could feel the ribs crack beneath my hooves. It felt good. Again and again I rained down my hooves upon her broken body, until it could barely be recognized as having ever been a pony.
Long past when she died I continued. The clatter of chains and searing pain seemed like it would never end. Just the thought of that symbol still existing anywhere in this world was beyond acceptance. The flame in my mind burned away the madness of mixed pasts, demanding my attention as my thoughts drifted to a different place, my body continuing its profane ritual without thought. I lost all track of time or sense of place amongst those distant memories.
*** *** ***
It was dark, cold and damp. The tight weight around my neck was a constant. Just tight enough to cut into my throat with each heartbeat. Constricting my breathing just enough that every breath reminded me of its presence. A dull throbbing ache ran through my left flank. Weight rested heavily upon my legs, and as I shifted my position slightly in a desperate attempt to get more comfortable the clink of chains was audible. Every motion a reminder that I was not a free pony.
“I’m telling you, this one is cursed!”
A voice cut through the silent surroundings as I heard hoof-falls nearby. The voice echoed slightly in the tiny chamber as I focused my magic just enough for a dim grey light to fill the small cell. The soggy bedroll beneath me gave an unpleasant squish as I moved closer to the wall to listen more closely.
“Cursed? Bah! Zebra nonsense. There’s no such thing as curses and you know it!”
“But she is! Have you SEEN her Cutie Mark!? We’ll be lucky if we ever manage to do anything useful with her.”
“Hmph. Well she is clumsy, I’ll say that much. Keeps breaking everything we send her to work on. Boss keeps insisting we give her enough food to keep her alive, says ‘a dead slave ain’t worth nothin’.’ But she doesn’t deserve anything more than that.”
“Hah! I hear you there. She’s got one of those leg-mounted terminal things. Maybe we could sell her to the Rangers? Bet they’d love to have access to more of those things.”
“Are you kidding? They’d probably try to shoot us on sight. Bastards got no idea what proper business is like. Just kill anyone who gets in their way and take what they want. Barely better than Raiders if you ask me.”
“She’d be a decent looker if she were in better shape. Maybe we can move her to the Big T and sell her to one of the places there? They’d probably pay a premium if we could prove she’s disease free!”
“Yeah, right. Like anyone’s going to pay to spend a night with some clumsy mare fresh out of a stable. Have you SEEN the others who came from there? You’d be lucky if she even knew what way around everything went!”
“Pfft. Well, then, I guess we should get to TEACHING her, shouldn’t we?”
The sound of hoof-falls drew closer as the pale light of my magic illuminated a pair of stallions on the far side of metal bars. My stomach rumbled angrily, and at one of the worst possible times, as they approached. One of the two spoke up again, “Look at that. She even looks like she was expecting us!” vicious laughter filling the air.
The lock of my cage clanked open as one of the two yanked the metal grating clear, standing back to watch as the other approached. He was wearing dark red and black armor, with a symbol of an upside down horseshoe in a circle with a slash through it drawn upon its flank. That didn’t last long, though, as he quickly began to strip it off. Horror and resignation ran through my mind in equal parts, the realization of what they planned for me finally dawning.
He was not gentle, and I lacked the strength to fight back.
*** *** ***
Heat flowed across my body, surging from deep inside. Thick red paste squeezed beneath my hooves and clung heavily to my coat. Broken pieces of red and black armor scattered amongst the thick jam which now coated the floor of the small office. Slowly I began to calm down, my mind still surging painfully as I struggled to focus my eyes on the surroundings.
Somewhere in my outburst I had toppled the desk over onto the floor, scattering now-bloodstained papers everywhere. The flickering green screen of a terminal smeared with red along with the sparks from broken ceiling lights gave the room an eerie glow. The pain which had been in my side was faded now, as I stood numbly amongst the destruction.
My mind reeled with the first real recollection of my past. I had found a part of myself at last! A part which seemed mired in misery, a murky memory of voices and shapes without proper definition. The crushing weight of what had happened to me doused the flames of rage with the intensity of a bursting dam. My mind slowed to a crawl. I didn’t want to think or move from that spot. Thinking was painful. Being was painful.
“Boss! I caught one of those intruders you wanted!”
A voice cut through the fog of my mind. The sound of hoof-falls growing closer.
“Celestia’s mane! What happened in here!? Hey. Hey! You better settle down or I’ll just shoot you and be done with it!”
The voice grew louder, barely enough to make me raise my head towards the doorway as a stallion climbed over the two dead bodies still laying on the floor outside the office. Clutched between his body and one of his forelegs was a small grey and red blob. A thin line of recognition ran through my sluggish mind as my eyes began to focus again. Requiem. He’d caught Requiem! But how? Why? Why was she here?? I’d told her to wait outside, hadn’t I? She should be safe! She shouldn’t have to see this!
The stallion stared in disbelief at what he was seeing, his smug confusion fading to palpable horror. “Boss..?” His voice echoed in the silence of the room, locking his vision on to me. My gaze remained fixed on Requiem, who had ceased her struggling to escape the moment she laid eyes on me. All thought had stopped in my mind, squelched by her wide-eyed stare.
The stallion’s leg slacked slightly. For her fear and confusion, Requiem’s instincts for survival and escape were as sharp as ever. The moment the stallion moved enough for her to do so she bit down hard on his leg. A scream of pain erupted which shocked my mind from its blindness, “AAAAAGH! You little cunt! I’m going to kill you for that!” Suddenly relaxing his leg enough for Requiem to drop the floor. I had hoped she would run to me. Take refuge with me. Return to my side like she always had before. Instead she bolted away from the doorway and out of sight almost instantly. The Earth Pony who had been carrying her bucked to bring his weapon up far enough to grab in his mouth.
I acted without thought. It was instant and effortless to activate my targeting spell. The resounding explosion of the heavy rifle I had stolen early in my rampage echoed through empty halls once again. His head burst like an over-ripe melon, splattering across the already bloodstained floor as his body toppled. Not even having enough time to fire a single shot.
Watching his body tumble to the ground my mind began to move again. Requiem ran from me. She fled from me as though I were the monster. As though the thought of risking capture by these ponies again was better than standing at my side! I had protected her! I had come here to..! To...
To what? To get revenge? Revenge wouldn’t bring her family back. To stop these ponies from hurting anyone? I had murdered them, destroyed them and broken their home. Done to them what they did to Requiem. Invaded their home, their safety, slaughtered them without thought or mercy. How many ponies had died here today?
I scrambled for answers, answers which wouldn’t come. Somewhere along the way I had lost myself to the thrum of battle and the mindless excess of destruction. Thick red paste dropped from my coat with a resounding ‘splat’ onto the floor. Oh, Celestia. What had I done here!?
Bolting from the room I turned, following the single non-hostile marker upon my E.F.S., desperate to find Requiem. To apologize. To explain. To do something, anything, to make this all right! I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not now.
*** *** ***
The thick aroma of boiled cabbage managed to penetrate the metallic tang of blood which hung in my mouth and nose. Requiem’s flight from me had carried the two of us down twisting halls and another flight of stairs, now on the ground floor, leading to a massive open room filled with tables.
Spilled bowls and shattered glasses were scattered amongst tables which had been overturned or shifted violently from where they originally sat. A tiny collection of them remained intact, still-steaming bowls of food sitting on small trays. There had been ponies eating here when my attack began. Interrupted from their meal by the death of their friends and a mad Alicorn running rampant through their ranks.
The voices in my head were fighting a war over whether what I had done was right or not. Everything I had seen since leaving the warden’s office only seemed to be giving the side of me with regrets more ammunition. But I was preoccupied with Requiem, and too concerned for her safety to think hard about what I had already done.
My legs were shaking by the time I had crossed the large cafeteria into the kitchen. The tightness in my chest which had begun when Requiem fled from me had grown unbearable. My heart threatened to burst cleanly through my ribs and attempt to escape me forever. What if I couldn’t find Requiem? What if one of the raiders found her first? What if she got herself hurt and needed me? Would she ever trust me again? A myriad of horrible ideas thrust themselves through the back of my mind, tearing at the cobwebs of emotions which still clung to my desperation.
It felt like eternity as I slogged slowly across the kitchen, following the lone friendly marker which remained on my E.F.S. All of my hope pinned on that device, something I hadn’t even had a week before, without it Requiem would have been long gone and impossible for me to even try to follow.
The boiling water of unattended pots niggled at my mind. The shining doors of large freezers stood invitingly as though to tempt me to find their contents. Were it not for Requiem I would gladly have savaged the room with gusto and intent, but as it was I didn’t have time. My legs already felt like they were about to give out from under me as I fought back tears. Crying wouldn’t get Requiem back.
At the very rear of the kitchen I found a doorway. The door hung open limply, a staircase descending downwards into darkness before me. The marker I hoped was Requiem was somewhere down those stairs. Along with several more red markers. Raiders who had taken refuge in the storage basement when the attack began. Or after I slew so many. I could imagine them, down there, offering prayers that whatever had taken their friends would quietly pass them by.
Celestia, please forgive me for my trespass in this place. Luna, let my actions here die with time to be swallowed by the night. A silent prayer passed through my mind, unsolicited and yet distantly comforting, as I descended the staircase into darkness.
*** *** ***
The cellar’s lighting was poor to the point of near nonexistence, reducing my vision to barely a few hoof-falls from where I was standing. Scattered junk coated the flooring, pieces of broken machinery, loose nails, broken planks. The raiders had apparently been using this place to toss all of the things they had no where else to dispose of. The hard stone walls were covered in graffiti, writing on top of writing until it was impossible to read any part of it through the thickness of the words. Some part of me found amusing irony in the way the walls here seemed to resemble my mind.
Somewhere not too far away I could hear voices in the darkness, drawing my attention away from the walls.
“Which way did she go!?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one with the damnable lamp! Why weren’t you keeping it on her!?”
“Fuck you, do you know how hard it is to keep a light on something that small moving that fast? You should have shot her faster!”
My mind froze at that. Shot her? Small, fast moving? Requiem... Had they caught her!? A quick check of my E.F.S. still showed a single friendly marker, but it wasn’t moving. My heart sank, my legs nearly giving out below me at that. They... Had they really? Had I gotten her killed? The thought was inconceivable to some parts of me, yet others insisted I’d been a fool to drag her from her home in the first place. The voices demanding vengeance returned in force, but this time they lacked strength enough to overwhelm my despair.
Turning I slowly proceeded towards the voices, purple light wrapping around me as I cast my shield, floating the heavy rifle which had thus far treated me well outside the shield. It was coming close to breaking now. I had to hope that I had enough left to deal with those remaining here. I was no mechanic, and even my PipBuck couldn’t make up for that limitation. Just as I was about to round the corner towards the pair who had been talking another voice cut through the darkness.
“Hah! Found that little bitch! You got her just fine, Gut!” Cruel laughter followed after.
Instantly I turned my head towards the new speaker. Two more red dots on my E.F.S., and a smaller friendly mark! But the way they were talking... My mind burned, whatever panic I had swallowing up everything else to steel myself for the pain of what had happened.
Lightning coursed through my nerves as I concentrated my magic. The world imploded around me, even without knowing where I was going beyond generalities. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her die! If they had killed her I should be there with her! This... This was my fault! I wouldn’t abandon her now.
The disorientation of my arrival was intense. It was one thing when you could see where you were going, but teleporting blind was another matter altogether. It took me a moment to even process what I was seeing. Two large stallions, significantly bigger than average, stood over the small crumpled form of Silent Requiem. Red liquid stained the floor beneath her. She wasn’t moving any more.
There wasn’t time to have any kind of witty exchange with the raiders, who had looked up from their ‘kill’ to me in a mix of shock and horror. One of them bit down and jerked hard on their battle saddle. The sound of screaming engine and the roar of bullets filled the small room as the massive gatling gun strapped to his side spat dozens of tiny projectiles.
Most bounced harmlessly from my shield, burying themselves in the walls and ceiling. A few managed to break through, tearing at the edges of my coat and leaving red grooves in my flesh. The pain seared my mind, focusing my thoughts for that moment. The rest of the world faded into a blur of meaninglessness as I triggered my targeting spell. Two shots each. Two shots into their heads. I would stop them, even if it killed me, I would not let them have her.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*
In such small corridors against stationary targets even my poor aim was sufficient. Two more ponies fell, adding to the bodycount of the day. My mind barely registered their fall. These ponies weren’t worth crying over. These ponies had tried to kill Requiem. Maybe even succeeded!
Panic swept over me again, my legs trembling as I rushed to Requiem’s side. In an instant I activated my inventory sorting spell, frantically searching for the medical supplies which I had received yesterday. I had to have something to help her! My heart sank, somewhere during my mad attack I had lost two of the three healing potions I was carrying. Only one remained, and barely any medical bandages. I had to hope it was enough. Requiem had to live.
Pulling the last remaining healing potion from my bag I forced it down her throat, watching her swallow weakly before carefully wrapping the medical bandages around her midsection where the wound was worst. My own wounds oozed blood across my already stained coat, the pain from them beginning to burn in my mind. They weren’t deep, they would have been perfect for the medical bandages to heal. Yet I couldn’t bear the idea to use anything less than everything I had in an attempt to save Requiem.
*SCREEEE-BOOM!*
The ceiling of the room suddenly exploded, shrapnel and flames licking against the outer edge of my shield. Chunks of stone falling from above to rebound off the purple dome which surrounded myself and Requiem now. An angry curse was almost lost amidst the ringing in my ears and the blindness of the sudden light which made it difficult to ascertain what had happened.
Two more ponies were standing in the door frame. One of them was carrying a large metal tube strapped to his side. A missile launcher! These ponies were using missiles, inside their own home! Where they completely insane!? Had that hit directly it would almost certainly have killed me and Requiem both. I rose from where I had been sitting at her side as Requiem let off a quiet cough, the first sound I had ever heard her make. I could just barely see her opening her eyes again in my peripheral vision.
My targeting spell was still drained from my last attacks. My rifle was nearly broken. My aim was poor. I couldn’t move from this spot without giving them a clear shot to Requiem. My mind fogged with confusion and pain and rage as part of me broke. I dropped the rifle to the ground as the pony finished reloading, aiming another missile directly at me.
The anger and sorrow mixed to focus my mind to a razor edge, my horn exploding like lightning as the missile moved through open air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I focused my magic, purple light surrounding the projectile and ripping it from its course. The missile screamed angrily in the air, as it took all my concentration to keep even that single weapon from ripping free of my grasp, my horn aching from the delicate exertion.
Slowly, carefully, I turned it in the air. Had there been any more than this it would have been hopeless. As it was, I loosed the missile towards the pair who stared in disbelief, barely managing to turn from me to begin to run as the explosive lanced through the tiny corridors. The detonation tore into both of them, reducing what had once been ponies to nothing but charred flesh and shattered bones. The final two raiders joined their brethren in whatever came after.
Slowly, heavily, I turned my gaze back to Requiem. She was laying on the ground, still unmoving, staring up at me with eyes which were barely awake. She coughed again, quietly, before biting down her lips hard in an attempt to keep any other sound from escaping her. I sat slowly beside her, gently laying a kiss on her cheek.
“Please... Please trust me. I won’t ever let someone take you away. I will always protect you.” Requiem remained silent and passive. She didn’t squirm at my touch. She didn’t kick. She just laid there, staring at me in silence. Celestia, please let her be alright. My heart couldn’t take another loss today.
Time crawled by in agonizing slowness in the quiet dark of the basement.
*** *** ***
The jangle of chains echoed through the quiet of the basement. At first I thought I was imagining them, that they existed purely in my mind. At least until Requiem began to struggle to her feet, ears tracking towards one of the doors. It had been only a few minutes since I gave her the healing potion, and already she seemed to be doing much better. As my sight tracked towards the door she was so intent on reaching I could see another friendly mark on my EFS, a quiet voice croaking out through the darkness.
“Hello? Is anypony there?”
The door itself was huge and reinforced steel, a storage door. Muffling the voice from within to being almost silent. Carefully I wrapped my magic around it and began to force it aside, producing a quiet squeak of metal on metal. This time, at least, it seemed that something in this place was built properly.
Requiem had managed to get to her feet and follow me at least as far as the door. For once I wished she wouldn’t stay by my side, we hadn’t had enough medicine to treat her properly and I could only hope she would recover. Like usual, she moved through the door before I could, squeezing past when it was only barely open enough to allow her through.
The room was small, less than half the size of the rest of the basement. The first sight to greet my eyes were chains hanging from a wall, the skeletal remains of a long-decayed pony sitting at the bottom of them in the murky half-darkness of the room. A prisoner, or what was left of one from long ago. Surrounded by random garbage and filth. The light above those remains was broken, pale white light streaming from the other side of the room.
“A filly? What’s a filly do-”
The voice cut off abruptly as I stepped through the doorway and cast my gaze in the direction of the light and sound. The voice itself was hoarse, pained and cracked noticeably, the voice of a mare or so it seemed. What greeted my eyes was not pleasant, but pleasant was a rarity in the wastelands it seemed.
Great metal chains extended from the wall, embedded deeply into its construction, towards an emaciated pony. So thin and sickly that her ribs could easily be seen through her coat, the outline of her spine easy to track beneath her ragged skin. The red of her coat stained darkly with grease and accumulated dust mixed with unknown stains which I didn’t wish to imagine where they had come from. What had once been a light brown mane was a tangled, matted mop of hair which seemed to be threatening to escape under its own power. Her tail was no better than her mane, knotted and abused. I could even see a few places where her coat had begun to fall out, from malnutrition and abuse, where it had been cut away and scars now ran along parts of her body. Her flanks were marked by a cutie mark resembling a gear with a green spark at its center. Something in my mind recognized that symbol, as conflicting emotions ran through me over it being a symbol some pony actually had.
At first I thought that the chains had been run straight through her sides, connecting her to the wall directly, but after a few moments I could see that they connected to something else. Extra limbs folded tightly against her side, wings. A pegasus, trapped underground and left to starve. Or maybe not. The raiders in South-End Junction mentioned a prisoner. There were pegasi in the radio station. The station was marked like this place was. Was she a survivor of the slaughter there? What had happened? Why were they fighting to begin with? I had so many questions to ask her, but her stare at me silenced all of them.
The gaze of terror on her face reminded me that I was still coated with the cooled gore of the raider leader. My face still stained with blood. I must have looked every bit the quintessential monster to her eyes. A horror from the nightmares of the wasteland, crawled from the darkness to steal away her life. She backed away towards the corner of the room, barely able to move from her spot because of the chains, shouting at me.
“Please! Please don’t hurt me! Not any more! I just want to go home. This was never supposed to happen!”
She rambled something which didn’t make any sense to me as I slowly approached. Requiem sat down in front of her, directly in her sight, without hesitation or fear. Tilting her head to one side as she stared at the pegasus. The intent was clear to me, even the filly wasn’t afraid of me, why would she be?
“Please let me go. Help me. I’ll... I’ll show you where they keep their weapons! Where they keep the supplies! Just help me. I’ll do anything!”
My vision tracked around her, catching sight of the workbench not far from where she was. My thoughts drifted to the rifle I had abandoned not long ago. The raiders had incredibly well maintained armaments. “It was totally worth the effort. I bet even those Rangers would be shaking in their boots the next time we came around!” The words of the raiders from South-End Junction echoed in my mind. They’d taken her, captured her, forced her to repair their weapons, then used them to murder everyone Requiem knew and loved.
Part of me was furious, demanding I do something horrible to this pony, who had had a part in Requiem’s loss. Another part of me reminded me that she was just as much a victim as Requiem was. I stared down at her quietly a few long moments before speaking. “I’ll do whatever I can. Hold still.”
That was obviously not the reaction she expected as she stammered out a brief thanks, staring at me in confusion and hope.
I didn’t know the first thing about removing the chains from her wings, and I had no more medical supplies to spare for her. But there was something else I did know how to do. Slowly and carefully I stepped forwards towards the place where the chains were embedded in the wall, gripping one of them in my mouth. The strong metallic taste mixed with the fading remains of blood on my lips, creating a soft electrical tingle through my mouth. My forehooves slammed into the wall hard enough to create radial cracks around where they connected, spreading out towards where the chains were secured. Planting them firmly a moment later I began to pull as hard as I could.
My teeth jarred, ached and stung at the exertion, my legs straining against the solid stone of the wall. The cracks my hooves had created splintered further, widening with a dozen tiny pops and snaps. The extreme age of the construction mixed with the poor anchoring by the raiders began to make part of the wall crumble, ripping the chain clear by its roots. The chain dropped to the ground with a clatter.
Slowly I continued to the next and repeated the process. Over and over, six times in all, the wall gave way to my strength. The pegasus, still pressed to the floor, stared up at me. By the time I had finished her gaze had changed from horror to amazement. “That... You... How could... What are you!?”
That question cut through my mind. It seethed. What was I? A monster. A horror born of darker eras. A thing which should never have existed. That was what my mind told me, some parts. Others insisted I was great and powerful, a gift to the world. That I was superior to ponies, the one who deserved to rule. My mind ached again under the feelings of shame and pain that I had spread today as those thoughts that I deserved the right to choose who lived and died chewed at the back of my mind.
I answered her with the only thing I could say for certain, “A pony.”
A weak smile passed my lips as the unnamed Pegasus struggled to her feet, swaying a moment at her sudden new found freedom. Beginning to trot towards the exit, only to sway and fall towards the ground half way there. Without thinking I wrapped my magic around her to catch her. She gave an annoyed grunt, “Can’t be this weak. Not after seeing that! Make us all look bad.” seemingly speaking mostly to herself.
I trotted up towards her, gently extending a wing to help her balance herself with a slightly brighter smile, “I don’t think a starved, captured, half-dead pony can make anyone look bad. Except maybe themselves, by being stubborn enough to refuse help.”
She just grimaced in return, leaning weakly against my wing as I helped her out of the room, “I’m Aurora Borealis, and this is Silent Requiem,” I glanced down to my constant companion, who had quickly moved to stand beside us again, “What’s your name? Even if you’re going to leave soon enough, I’d like to at least know who I’m saving.”
A dry laugh passed her lips which quickly turned into a coughing fit, “... Arsenal. Just... Arsenal.” giving a weak smile back up to me, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. We still need to get you some food, after all. And get out of here.”
Arsenal nodded weakly at that, before casting her gaze across the basement towards another doorway, “First, I’ll show you what I promised. At least I can have that much dignity.”
She lead us onwards across the debris-strewn basement.
*** *** ***
The supply room was cramped. Another side-room similar to the one where we had found Arsenal, the walls were lined with weapon racks, most of them empty. Foot lockers were strewn across the floor haphazardly, with no obvious means of organization or order. Large drums marked with flammable warning labels sat piled in one corner. Half a dozen ammunition boxes littered tables.
Without prompting Requiem trotted into the room and began her typical art of searching. Beginning to tug her way through everything she could find. Arsenal watched her go with some curiosity, “Dedicated, isn’t she?” I let out a quiet chuckle at that. She had no idea.
The two of us made our way inside as well. Arsenal began searching for something specific. At least at a guess she was after something specific. The way she kept opening and closing boxes in irritation made it feel that way. My own vision slowly cast across the room, so many things here which made me wonder.
At least, until my eyes fell upon a large case. Standing up against one of the walls, half hidden behind an overturned locker. Its metal shined like new, despite its dark and dreary surroundings. But it wasn’t the state of the box which drew my attention properly. It was the marking on it. A large, flowing, blue R had been imprinted upon its side. My heart ached as my head swam with recognition. Like seeing the photograph in the library, I knew I had to have whatever was inside that box. I didn’t know why, it was just too important to let go.
My magic wrapped around the box and tugged it free easily. The resounding crash of the locker to the ground causing Requiem and Arsenal alike to leap away and glare at me, “Warn everypony before you do that!” Arsenal’s voice would probably have been intimidating if she weren’t still half-hoarse from malnutrition. My cheeks burned with a blush at that, part of me wondering how many times Requiem had wanted to yell at me since we met.
The case consumed my attention, though. Laying it out on the ground before me. It was locked, that wasn’t surprising. What was more surprising was the lock didn’t look like any I had ever seen before. A key-pad like the ones used on a terminal and a set of green display values were all the sign of how you would open it.
For a moment I stared at it blankly before Arsenal finally looked at it and let out an irritated sigh, “Never seen an electronic lock before? No surprise there.” she bucked one of the lockers open and let out a happy squeal at whatever she had found inside. I didn’t even bother to look up from the box, wracking my brain trying to think of how to open it.
Arsenal trotted over towards me, holding an odd looking device in her mouth before setting it on the ground, “Just get out of the way. I’ll get it open for you, if it means that much to you.” looking up to me with slightly raised eyebrows.
I just bowed my head and stepped aside, “Thank you...” hanging my head in shame. I knew I needed what was inside, yet I couldn’t get in on my own. If I hadn’t found Arsenal here, I probably would have ended up dragging the box with me all across the wasteland. That idea was funny, but not practical.
I didn’t catch most of what Arsenal was doing to the box, parts of me recognized the device she had now, an electronic lockpick. Doing a job not far removed from what I had done in the Library, except being designed explicitly for that purpose rather than a hack-job with a PipBuck. It didn’t take her long before the box let off a soft click-hiss, the lock and seal giving way.
“There you go. Don’t go hurting yourself with whatever’s inside.”
Carefully and slowly I nudged the top open. The interior of the box was lined with crushed velvet, stained dark red like wine. The center of the box was filled with a long tube, a rocket launcher by the look of it, like the one which the raider had been carrying. But this one was different. It was masterfully constructed, the metal shining like new, a pearl handle sitting as its firing mechanism and tiny gems embedded into the status monitoring devices. A small sight extending from one side. Along one side in flowing text like that on the outside of the box, but written in gold, was a name. Tom.
A custom-built missile launcher, with pearl grip and gemstone displays, silver plated with gold lettering? Who builds something like that? Who would WANT something like that? It seemed so absurdly ostentatious that it wrapped all the way back around the scale to being magnificent again. Someone, somewhere, somewhen had put a lot of effort into making this weapon. It broke my heart that it had been here, alone, for two centuries.
A small slip of paper fell from the box as I stared at the weapon, drifting down to land atop it just in my vision. Without much thought I wrapped it in my magic and unfolded it, curious to what might be written within. Flowing writing graced the page, beautiful and elegant. A style which part of my mind recognized instantly.
Dearest Twilight Sparkle,
I did as you requested and helped those poor boys in your lab with the finishing touches on this weapon. I do hope it lives up to your expectations. I just couldn’t leave the design alone. Steel and blinking lights? Who ever designed these crimes against proper fashion? This one at least will be presentable. I’m certain you will want to examine the results before sending this on to be reproduced by Applejack’s, ugh, ‘employees’. We should meet again soon, it feels like it’s been ages since we talked last!
- Rarity
My legs dropped out from under me as my heart sank through the floor. The weight of horrors which had happened today were still heavy in my mind and now this. An empty, lonely sorrow which rushed from an unbidden part of my mind filled every corner of my consciousness. Tears which had been held back by rage and fear and relief suddenly returned, carried past the breaking point by a familiar sorrow of things lost which should never have gone.
My sense of place and time were gone. Only sorrow remained as tears flowed down my muzzle and fell to the dirty floor. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to breathe. Didn’t want to think. I just wanted to lay there. To forget everything. Closing my eyes tightly, all I could see was the distant vision of a white unicorn, now far too far away.
Somewhere I could faintly hear Arsenal’s voice, “Is... Is she always like this?”
I wished the answer to that was no.
*** *** ***
The tears flowed and flowed, for what felt like hours I lay upon the filthy ground. My gore-caked coat now covered in a fine layer of dust and debris as slowly my heart turned from despair to emptiness. Emotional exhaustion overtook my sorrow, swallowing up whatever remained of my mirth or fear or anxiety. I slowly rose again, wrapping Tom in my magic and carefully levitating the weapon from its case. Part of me insisted that it would be a travesty to leave it here, betraying the trust of someone who deserved so much better.
Requiem and Arsenal were gone by now. Wandered off to somewhere else in the building. I could hardly blame them, in the state I was in I wouldn’t have wanted to be around me either. The small pile of serviceable weapons and broken down spare parts which sat alongside a pile of ammunition, only some of which I recognized, were clear signs that Requiem had finished her usual desire to find anything and everything worth taking which wasn’t nailed down. They joined the other assorted objects she had found for me in my packs.
Back up the stairs I went, slow and heavy. Above I could hear the clatter of ponies in the kitchen. My eyes still blurred with now-passed tears as I set hoof on the upper floor again. The smell of boiled cabbage still filled the confines of the large room, though it was less noticeable now. I could see that several of the large refrigeration units had been opened, filled with chopped up meat of an unknown source alongside more of the strange fruit I had taken from Requiem’s home.
Trotting around the main cooking area I caught sight of Arsenal sitting at one of the large tables in the cafeteria, hungrily devouring slices of boxed cake. Three empty bowls sat beside her and a small pile of cake boxes had fallen to the floor around her flanks. The cake boxes had piled heavily enough to obscure most of the strange square rifle resting on the ground by her hooves. She seemed intent on cramming absolutely everything she could lay hoof upon into her mouth. I couldn’t suppress a mild laugh at that image, the pegasus intending to eat herself sick to make up for lost meals it seemed.
Arsenal looked up from her meal with a scowl as Requiem trotted up with another box of cake, tossing it onto the table for her, “Hey! You try going without anything but water and a tiny bit of fruit for over a week! We’ll see how happy you are!” Briefly I considered mentioning that I hadn’t eaten anything in... Well, I wasn’t sure how long. But a long time, at least. Instead I just allowed a mild smile to pass my lips.
“You’re right. You should eat, get your strength back. Just don’t eat too much, you’ll end up sick!”
Arsenal scowled at me and broke out the next box, scarfing down the contents almost entirely without looking at them.
Leaving her to her meal I slowly moved back through the kitchen. Searching for... Yes, there it was. A stove, with active flames. That would be perfect. Requiem was passing by me back towards the refrigerators, giving me a chance to speak to her, “Requiem? Start gathering up whatever food to take with us. There’s one more thing I want to do before we leave.”
Requiem glanced up at me with some surprise. She was still trying to avoid being looked at, especially after all this. All but that one moment when Arsenal desperately needed to believe she was safe. I merely gave back a weak smile, “We’ll be leaving soon. I know where we’re going next.”
With that I trotted back downstairs to leave Requiem and Arsenal to their desires. I needed to retrieve something from the supply closet before we could depart. My heart still heavy and numb.
*** *** ***
“Ugh. I ate too much cake.” Arsenal walked slowly, head hung low, as we left the remains of the prison.
Thick, acrid smoke rose to the heavens out of barred windows. Deep inside the building a fire was burning, spreading across its interior. The sniper tower had cracked and fallen across the yard, smashing a sizeable hole in the outer wall. The building itself would soon be gutted by the flames I had set, burning the flammable chemicals from the storage room with the heat of one of the stoves. After my visit to the radio station I couldn’t simply leave anypony’s remains to rot unattended. Even raiders like these didn’t deserve that.
My heart had sunk again, hanging my head low. I had a new goal. A new place to walk towards. But at what cost? I had murdered the raider leader. No, worse than murdered. Defiled her. Destroyed her. What I did to her didn’t deserve to happen to any pony. Yet I couldn’t escape the feeling that if I had it to do again I would do just the same.
The skies thundered quietly in the distance as light rain began to fall once more. This time I didn’t raise my shield. The soft rain ran through my gore-caked coat, washing the blood from my face and my hooves. Sweeping it away from my body just as my tears swept sadness from my heart. Tears which ran with the water of the skies and left not a single mark in its passing.
The soft clanking of Arsenal’s chains, now wrapped firmly around her wings to keep them from dragging, joined the soft splatter of raindrops and distant thunder, creating a dower kind of music in their own right as we walked onwards towards unknown discoveries.
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 5)
Silent Requiem (Level Up! - Level 4)
Arsenal (Level 4) Trait: Arcanotech Genius - You have a natural aptitude with things which mix magic and technology, granting you a bonus to all hacking attempts and your ability to repair magical energy weapons and similarly high technology devices. However, you find more mundane mechanical devices to be beneath your notice, penalizing you on lockpicking attempts and reducing the effectiveness of repairs you perform on conventional slugthrowers. Not that you’d ever want to use one of those unreliable things. Trait: Well Trained - Unlike most wastelanders you have an actual education behind you! You receive +5 to all starting skill values and gain an additional 3 skill points at each level-up. However, your education has made you somewhat stuck in your ways and you find further improving your skills more difficult, penalizing you 10% on all experience gains. Sometimes learning by practice is better than learning in school. Origin: Enclave Survivor - Once you were a mighty Pegasus of the Enclave! Now, you find yourself adrift amidst the madness of the wastelands. The military training you’ve received in the past grants you +10 to your Energy Weapons skill and the Power Armor Training Perk for free. However, lack of real-world experience and life in the relative safety above the clouds means you know little about the dangers of the world, reducing your Survival by -10 points and penalizing your Speech and Barter skills by -5 when dealing with wastelanders. Muckdwellers don’t really deserve your respect anyway.
“There’s a place you only dream of, where your soul is always free.”
Despair devours hope with gluttonous abandon. A great darkness which drowns the light of the future. It grows in the horrors we witness every day. Wears upon the mind like waves beating at a cliff. In time hope is swallowed completely, ground up and dragged away from us. Leaving us adrift in meaningless sorrow and emptiness.
But hope is stronger than we believe. A single spark can rekindle a long-dead flame. Spreading from pony to pony through actions and words. Even in the darkest hearts and the loneliest times the right spark can light the world anew. Sometimes it takes grand actions to make others believe again. Sometimes all you need to do is show others there’s something worth believing in.
*** *** ***
Splosh. Splosh. Splosh.
The sewer tunnels echoed with the splash of hooves in water. Rain from above had flooded the tunnels with water deep enough to reach Requiem’s flank. At first she had tried to slog through it. But, with no way of knowing how much deeper it might get, I wasn’t comfortable with that. Instead she now rested indignantly upon my back, still dripping rain water on my already wet coat.
“Ugh. How does rain water get this dirty this fast?” Arsenal’s voice cut through the echo of the tunnel in irritation. It wasn’t a completely unreasonable question, either. The rain water was mixed with dirt and debris from the city above. “Two hundred years! How can a city still have this much trash after two hundred years!?” An empty candy bar wrapper floated by on the surface of the water as though to punctuate her point.
I had no answer. I doubt she wanted one, either. Ever since we entered the sewers she’d been especially miserable. The initial burst of happiness and resolution from her freedom had worn away. “How much further are we going? My hooves are starting to ache!” Apparently leaving her with nothing better to do than complain.
“We’ll get there when we get there.” The weight of my actions at the prison still sat heavily upon me. Bogging down my mind and draining my desire to do anything other than press onwards. I pinned everything on the hope that the raider leader had been honest. If I could find a piece of my past here, maybe then it would be worth what happened there? Some part of me believed that, others complained that that was horrific. Murder to find a piece of myself? The idea made my eyes burn with suppressed tears. Instead I focused as best I could on the tunnels before me.
“Are you sure we’re not lost? These tunnels look awfully familiar.” Arsenal cast her gaze around the surrounding tunnels, “I’d swear we’ve passed this junction at least three times!”
I suppressed a groan, raising my PipBuck slightly, “I DO have an automatic map! We’re not lost.” stamping my hoof into the water out of irritation. The small burst washed a chunk of floating wood towards Arsenal, who promptly hopped over it rather than let it touch her.
“Hmph. I’m still not convinced you even know how to use it properly.” Arsenal stared at the PipBuck longingly a few moments, “They’re a miracle of arcanotech engineering! Can you even appreciate how much effort went into building that one piece of hardware?”
I just rolled my eyes in frustration, “You’re free to leave if the way I treat my things bothers you that much.” Truthfully she was probably right. I used my PipBuck without thinking about it. I had no idea what secrets it might hold, only that it felt natural and effortless. Instincts as deeply ingrained as walking guided its use. Part of me protested I was being unfair to her. Much more of me was irritated, the emptiness of loss turning to frustration.
Arsenal opened her mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by angry hissing. Requiem noticed it first, shifting upon my back to stand on her hooves again. I was too engaged in my argument and frustration to spot the horror until it was almost upon us.
A shape resembling a pony burst from one of the side tunnels, surging through the water with unnatural strength. Torn, flaking flesh hung from an overly thin frame which made Arsenal look positively healthy by comparison. Its eyes were a milky white and its mouth filled with decayed, half-missing teeth. The rotting remains of a pony which somehow still managed to have strength enough to stand and move.
The creature leaped at Arsenal without hesitation. Requiem reacted before either of us could fully process what we were seeing. She jumped from my back, bucking the zombie pony in the face hard enough to send it sprawling off course. A resounding splash filled the halls as both Requiem and the zombie hit the water simultaneously.
“Uuuaaaah!” Arsenal screamed in surprise, leaping away from the rotting not-a-corpse. It took only a moment for her to grab the strange boxy weapon at her side. She swung it around towards the zombie. Bright pink light flooded the dim tunnels as she fired, half of the zombie’s head evaporating instantly. The corpse-like abomination splashed back down into the water, unmoving this time.
Hisses echoed in the distance as the creature fell. My E.F.S. instantly filled with red. The sounds of battle and argument had attracted the attention of many more hungry zombie ponies. Already I could see the shadow of another moving through the tunnels.
Arsenal was panting with surprise, “Zombie ponies!? What is WRONG with this world?” She trotted up towards me. Staying far away from the floating remains of the dead pony.
Soon many more would be upon us. Carefully I removed the massive minigun I had stolen from one of the raiders. It was huge, heavy and unwieldy. But compared to desks and missiles levitating it was easy.
Requiem scrambled back up to her feet. Rushing to my side despite being half-submerged. She leaped back up onto my back, shaking the water from her coat.
“Run now! Complain later!” It was the best advice I could give to Arsenal as four more of the shambling corpse-things leaped from a nearby tunnel. Hissing and growling in hunger and rage.
Arsenal scrambled past me abruptly. Without pause I swung the massive gun around. The deafening blare of gunfire filled the hallways as the bullets tore through soft flesh. Thick black ooze leaked from dozens of bullet wounds into the water beneath our hooves. Four more zombies joined the first in the release of death.
Without thinking I turned and began to run down the tunnels as fast as I could. Arsenal following just behind me. Requiem wrapped her forehooves tight around my neck, doing her best not to be bucked free.
“You’d better not get lost down here! I don’t want to get eaten today!” Arsenal was as optimistic and confident in me as ever, it seemed.
Splashing water surrounded us, echoing through tunnels as a dozen more red lights filled my vision. How many of these horrors were down here? Dozens? Hundreds? I had no idea, and I really did not want to find out today!
*Bzzzack!*Bzzzack!*Bzzzack!*
The distinctive sound of magical energy fire filled the air. The smell of burning flesh penetrated my awareness. Somewhere behind us three more zombies fell to the ground unmoving. I was silently thankful that Arsenal was a better shot than I was. At least she had a reason to feel superior!
Left. Right. Left. Straight. Left. Right. Right. Straight. We rushed down the tunnels, taking turns as fast as they came. More red dots seemed to appear everywhere we went. Had we managed to anger the entire sewers, all at once!? That thought did not fill me with joy.
A dozen more of the zombie ponies milled about in a large open room. They surrounded a pale green light. Light being emitted by another of their own number! Angry hissing filled the air as they spotted us. Instantly I pulled the trigger on my minigun. The scream of gunfire overpowered any other sound for a long moment. Six more of the zombies fell to the ground, dead. Four others bled black ooze from multiple bullet wounds.
The glowing zombie hissed angrily. It shifted stances slightly. A brilliant green flash radiated through the room. My PipBuck ticked angrily as the light washed over us. The light was warm, soothing, with a slight electric tingle to it. The aches from my healing wounds were swept away almost instantly. The slight ache in my horn which had lingered since the battle with the Raiders was gone. I felt good. Better than good!
The light faded and I could see the bleeding zombies’ wounds had healed over significantly. They were hissing in anger again, surging towards us. For a moment I wanted to bask in that warm light forever. The crack of Arsenal’s weapon brought my attention back. Two more zombie ponies disintegrated into pink ash, falling into the water to be swept away.
Requiem scrambled up my neck. Rushing up my horn and leaping from its tip to land on the head of one of the zombies. Instantly she kicked it, hard enough to send it reeling, before leaping towards another. Rebounding from zombie to zombie as they scrambled to catch her. But it wasn’t doing any good. Any injury she could give them was swiftly gone. The glowing zombie pressing them forwards.
The warm tingling sensation returned as the glowing zombie came closer to us. Part of me wanted to just stand there. To revel in that feeling. To let it take me away. The sight of Requiem leaping amongst their numbers. The ticking of my PipBuck. The crack of Arsenal’s weapon. They were all dull, meaningless, compared to the feeling of happiness and strength which that glow gave me.
I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth as I squeezed the trigger on my minigun again. The scream of the weapon cut at my perception. The warm feeling grew cold, falling away. When I opened my eyes again the glowing zombie had been reduced to nothing but scattered remains. Quickly being swept away by the current of rain water.
With the glowing one gone, the rest of the zombies fell with their characteristic ease. Requiem smashed two more with her hooves. Arsenal disintegrated three more. The minigun rapidly cut down the rest of them. I was almost out of ammo for that weapon. But for now it was enough.
The three of us rushed across the open room, deeper into the sewers. Too nervous and focused to talk.
*** *** ***
“Eugh. Must we remain in these tunnels? They’re simply awful!” It hadn’t taken long for Arsenal to return to complaining about anything and everything which upset her. Part of me wanted to believe she was just as stressed as I was. Another part of me just wanted to shoot her and be done with it.
She wasn’t wrong, though. The tunnels had become less intact as we travelled. The walls cracked. Dark muddy brown water spilled from broken pipes. The water from the rain mixed with other fluids I didn’t wish to contemplate. Even now the tunnel we were in had a slight angle to it, like it had been bucked from its proper position by a great force.
Arsenal glared angrily at one of the muddy waterfalls, “Why couldn’t you be clean?” snorting angrily before trotting around it, her hooves splashing through the water. If anything she looked more miserable now than she had when I rescued her. Bits of dead zombie clung to her mane. I could see the marks on her wing where one had managed to get close enough to bite her.
At least the tunnels had been quiet for some time. It seemed the zombies didn’t come this far, which made me a little nervous. What could be down here which would make even creatures of near-mindless aggression stay away?
Arsenal picked her way past the half-sunken remains of a skeleton, “I hate this place.” stepping up towards me, “Can we PLEASE go somewhere else? Anywhere! Just make it stop! Puhleeheeheeeze!?” the pleading look on her face was even more pathetic with her ragged mane. For a moment my heart stopped as I looked into her big, sad eyes and pouting lip. If someone could have found a way to weaponize that look the Zebras would have surrendered on the spot. Well, if it were coming from anyone else, at least.
Requiem shifted slightly on my back, pulling her hooves up over her head. Evidently she found Arsenal’s complaining as irritating as I did. I just groaned a moment and shook my head, “We’ll leave when we’re done.” her constant complaining was beginning to get on my nerves. But I couldn’t really blame her for it. This place was truly miserable, and she had reason to be more miserable than most.
We trotted along in silence for a long moment. Tunnels twisting and turning. The muddy water had begun to get thick enough to replace the rain water now. As it grew thicker my PipBuck began to tick quietly again. A dim warmth ran up my legs, along my flanks. The same warmth as the glowing ghoul. It felt nice, nice enough to almost forget everything which had gone wrong. Something in my mind niggled about the ticking from my PipBuck. Complaining that it should be BAD. But it just felt so nice that those voices got drowned out quickly.
For a time I let myself be lost to the wonderful warmth. Walking autonomously down winding corridors. Arsenal continued her unhappiness about the state of our surroundings and her body. But I wasn’t listening any more.
At least, I wasn’t until our path abruptly ended at a metal door. It resembled the doors in the basement of the library. But, instead of a turning lock, there was a faintly glowing terminal mounted to the wall beside it. I stared in confusion at it a few long moments, trying to get my mind to focus on the present. The dim euphoric feeling from the water was making that difficult.
Arsenal let out a groan, “You don’t even know how to use terminals properly, do you?” She pressed one hoof to her face and shook her head, “Just... Just stand over there. I’ll deal with it.” muttering something I couldn’t catch under her breath, “I do hope whatever is beyond that door is dry. My hooves are getting all pruny!” Ah, that was more like what I expected from her.
It only took a few moments of Arsenal playing with the terminal before the door hissed and shuddered. It slid away into the floor to reveal a large, dimly lit room. The floor was, remarkably, dry. There was no sign of the piping inside the room having burst. This room had clearly been reinforced more heavily than the rest of the sewers. Though why I couldn’t grasp at the moment.
For once it wasn’t Requiem who was first through the door. Instead, Arsenal hopped over the ledge and quickly set about shaking the water from her coat. “Well, it’s not as posh as I’d like. But it’s still better than those dreadful soaked tunnels!”
Ducking slightly, I followed Arsenal into the room. Requiem quickly jumped from my back, trotting off to begin her usual survey of the area. She hadn’t seemed particularly happy since I had extracted her from the water. She might trust me, but it seemed she wasn’t content being tethered to me.
For a moment I glanced around the room. It was characteristic of the era, dull grey walls with white lights, but what was in it was more surprising. My eyes caught sight of an overturned table, a topped chess board and scattered pieces nearby. Following the direction the table had fallen from I spotted something stranger. Two skeletons, darkened with age and heat, lay on the floor. Something about them looked wrong, but I couldn’t put my hoof on what. They resembled earth ponies, with no signs of wings or horns, but weren’t shaped quite right. I sat and stared for a long time, trying unsuccessfully to determine what was wrong with them.
A squeal punctured my contemplation, instantly drawing my attention away. That was Arsenal! Without hesitation I rushed across the room through another door which I hadn’t noticed before. Afraid briefly of what I might find there. Had Arsenal been attacked? Found whatever was keeping the zombies away? Chipped a hoof? Some part of me found the last about as likely to make her scream as the first.
Around the corner I caught sight of Arsenal sitting in front of a large open refrigerator. She’d found the food. Of course. I fought the urge to face-hoof at my own stupidity. She’d already begun pulling anything she could find out of the refrigerator without hesitation.
“Didn’t you just get done eating yourself sick?” The question which hung in my mind vocalized even before I realized it.
“Schtut! Uhp!” Arsenal spoke around mouthfuls, rather uncouthly, swallowing a moment later, “You wouldn’t understand. You might be used to being half-starved, but some of us have standards!”
I suppressed a groan, trotting up towards the refrigerator and levitating one of the boxed cakes out of it curiously. My PipBuck clicked a moment as its medical spells registered the object, throwing up radiation warnings and health risks. My gaze went to Arsenal instantly. She was about to take another bite of cake when my hoof intercepted hers, sending the slice flying through the air and splattering across the ground.
“My cake!” the pegasus turned about towards me and glared angrily, “Why would you do that!? Wasting perfectly good food while some ponies are starving!”
I rolled my eyes and actually groaned this time, holding up my PipBuck for her, “Because it’s all irradiated. Do you know how dangerous it is to eat random things you find lying around down here? What if somepony had laced it with poison or something!”
Arsenal just stared at me in disbelief, like she couldn’t even comprehend the idea that somepony would be that cruel, tears welling up in her eyes, “Poisoned... Cake..? What kind of monster would do that!?” Was she even listening to me at all? She seemed to only hear the parts of what I was saying she wanted to.
Now we were going to have to find something to remove radiation. There was something which did that, right? Well, part of me was pretty sure there was. I had to hope that part was right. I wasn’t sure how much radiation Arsenal had been exposed to, but any amount wasn’t healthy. At least, that’s what my mind insisted.
“What a cruel, horrible world. Even the food is poisoned!” Arsenal slammed the door to the refrigerator angrily, stomping off in a huff, “Dirty water, irradiated food, starvation, murder. It’s no wonder nopony wanted to return to the surface for so long! Who would WANT this world!?” Tossing her head in irritation as she stormed off, the soft clinking of chains marking her passing.
Requiem trotted past Arsenal into the kitchen. She was holding a magazine in her mouth. I didn’t get much of a chance to look at it before she leaped back up onto my back. Dropping it onto my spine as I could feel her open it. It seemed I’d been promoted from mount to table. Wonderful.
Irritation rising I stepped back into the other room. My gaze fell again to those odd skeletons, then slowly away from them and around the room again. There was a small mark I had missed the first time. A mark which burned my eyes. It matched the mark on the raider armor, drawn in chalk onto one of the walls with an arrow indicating another doorway.
“Arsenal! We’re leaving!” It wasn’t a question. This was it. What we’d been down here searching for. A mark, a sign of the place we were going.
“Fine! Fine! Ofcourse I’m at your beck and call!” Arsenal rolled her eyes in annoyance and stepped past me, bucking the door open. Stomping out and grinding her teeth.
The halls beyond were drier and cleaner than anywhere else we had been. Following them was easy and fast. The markings left on the walls and floor at every split were easy to see now that I knew to look for them. How many others had been swept away by rain and broken pipes? How much of our trip down here was unnecessary? I wasn’t sure. But today I was going to find more of my past. I was sure of it! There had to be more clues here!
Together we walked down the halls. Arsenal fuming in irritation, Requiem reading her new acquisition and me doing my best to focus on hope. After the prison I needed a little.
*** *** ***
A resounding crash echoed through empty hallways as the final door slid open. Arsenal was looking insufferably pleased with herself. She’d opened each door in our path in moments, hacking their terminals with effortless ease. “I suppose such simplicity is to be expected. It’s not as though the muck dwellers who used to live here had reason for better.” She trotted through the door without even looking at what was on the other side, coming to an abrupt stop a moment later, “Eugh. How could ponies LIVE like this?” Well, that didn’t take long.
The weight of chains had returned to my legs. A soft pulsing heat beat beneath my collar. This was nothing compared to the prison, but the feeling remained. I had taken the time to obliterate each of the markers on the walls as we passed. It was a pointless gesture, but cathartic.
I muscled my way past Arsenal, who had stopped just inside the doorway, to get a better view of the room beyond. In the dim gloom it was difficult to tell how large the room was. Far above us was an arching ceiling, cracked and broken in places. The floor was littered with debris from above. The sound and smell of flowing water permeated the massive chamber, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from.
Only the center of the room had any real illumination. White lamps hummed quietly upon tall stands, their pale light casting long shadows. Broken segments of metal surrounded the center of the room. A makeshift fort constructed of salvaged material inside a much larger room. Symbols like those at the prison had been painted over top of the slaver-marks along the walls. The distant echo of chains mixed with falling water, a sound nopony else could hear.
For a moment I just stood and stared. This place felt familiar, an echo of a distant past. I had been here before. Phantasmal voices floated at the edge of my mind, their words too far to hear. Without thinking I walked onwards.
Past the outer walls I strode, letting the sound of distant voices grow. The ground was littered with shell casings, blood and scattered bones. Overturned tables sat backed into corners. In a few places I could see skeletal limbs poking from behind them. Slowly I walked onwards, a distant pulse in my mind demanded I couldn’t stop now. Past the gathering area I moved. It was here. It had to be here.
Darkness engulfed the room beyond. Only a thin strip of pale light filtered from beyond. But I didn’t need the light to know what was there. My mind carried me without seeing, without thinking. Beside me were cages, rusted from years of exposure to the wet air here.
My hooves moved without my input. In a moment I found myself standing before a large cage. In the dim light I could barely make out chains attached to the floor of the cell. Something else was with them. A moment’s concentration and my PipBuck glowed a brilliant green. Bones. Small, under developed bones. The bones of a foal. The cracked remains of a small horn jutted from their skull. A unicorn foal. The chains were still wrapped around those bones, as though to proclaim that even death was not freedom from this place.
The voices grew louder, began to resolve into something meaningful. My eyes blurred, not wanting to look at what was before me. The weight of chains and the burning sensation beneath my collar resounded within me. The whole world span and fell away. I didn’t want to be here. I shouldn’t have come. But now, my mind carried me without my consent.
*** *** ***
Darkness and rushing water. The smell of mold. The soft, wet squish of the bedroll beneath me. The cutting, strangling tightness around my throat. Chains so short they made even standing difficult. These feelings were familiar.
This time, however, I could hear something else. The breathing and movement of other ponies. Ponies nearby. The subtle sound of clanking chains. Somewhere I heard a cough, echoing through the almost silent room. Nopony said anything. Everything there was to say had already been said. Now we waited, in cold silence, for whatever ending might come.
For a moment I was blind as brilliant light suddenly flooded the hall. Surprised yelps reached through my confusion, the others as surprised as I was. Three ponies stood in the doorway, the light behind them obscuring their colors. The two on either side were carrying something in their mouths, but I couldn’t make out what. The third was larger than they were, standing easily a head higher.
The trio marched through the room as I backed away. Fear ran through my veins like ice. A nameless, sourceless terror from somewhere further in my past. I wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, but here.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the harsh light. A third figure was following them. I could just make out the silhouette of a horn against the light. Why weren’t they afraid of these ponies? Why didn’t they hate them? The idea that there were ponies somewhere who accepted these acts was mind boggling to me. Even as starved, lonely and pained as I was, that just seemed beyond possibility.
The trio moved between the cages, stopping outside of the largest. Inside I could make out a dark grey unicorn, a light blue earth pony and a third pony who was blocked by the others. I recognized them. One of them had been my friend once. One had teased me constantly when we were young. I knew them, but the names wouldn’t come. The details weren’t there.
“These three should suit what you need.” the largest pony spoke, waving a hoof at the cage.
The unicorn peered into the cage beyond, “You think so? You know I have some very discerning clients. If they can’t do what you say they can-”
“I assure you I have not overstated their skills in any way.” the slaver leader cut his would-be buyer off, his deep voice drowning whatever words of protest were spoken, “We acquired them just recently. You will find that their skills have not dulled at all. I’m certain those leg-mounted terminals will be most useful to you as well.”
A grumble escaped the Unicorn’s lips, “They’d best be for what I’m paying you! I could buy six normal slaves at this price, and you know it!”
A wicked grin cracked across the leader’s face, “I also know you’ll pay. Because I’ve never let you down before.” a deep, rolling laugh swept across the room.
Tears welled up in my eyes. They weren’t just taking us away, or buying us, or selling us. They were enjoying it. They were friends. They had friends. How... How could any pony sink to this level? The idea was unacceptable to me. How desperately I wanted to speak out, to tell them what was wrong, to remind them of the way things should be! But I stayed silent. The burning pain in my flank, the gnawing emptiness in my stomach, the feeling of terror looking at the sticks the guards carried. I knew that trying to defy my captors would only lead to misery for myself and others. At least I could hold out hope that they would be treated well.
The leader of the slavers banged a hoof against the cage, “Hey! Wake up in there! Today’s your lucky day. You get out of this shit hole and on with your damned lives.” his voice held no mirth.
The three ponies gradually began to move, shifting to stand up. Silently I watched as the leader opened the cage, beginning to remove the chains from the floor. The guards stood nearby, ready for any resistance. It seemed things would go smoothly as they trotted from the cage.
The seven ponies made it half way across the room before the blue earth pony turned. Shifting his stance just slightly. No! Nonono! Don’t do it! I wanted to scream warnings, to try and make him stop, but I was too afraid. He bucked at the slaver leader, “We’re not yours to sell, you monster! You can’t force us to work!” The chains constricted his movement, making the buck weak at best. The leader didn’t even bother to dodge, barely even humoring his captive enough to roll his head to one side.
The response was swift and unflinching. The two guards leaped upon him. A resounding electrical crack echoed through the chamber, accompanied by a scream of pain. The blue earth pony hit the ground, limply. It took only a moment for him to begin to recover. Another crack, another scream, again he fell. Each time he struggled towards his feet they repeated the process. Their leader simply stood and watched until his captive could barely keep his eyes open.
Only then did he speak, stepping forward and dipping his head down. I couldn’t hear what he said, but the mirthless, vile laughter which followed told me all I needed to know. The guards gathered the broken pony and carried him away with the others. A friend, an enemy and an unknown, gone from my life forever. I sat in the darkness and cried.
*** *** ***
Tears blurred my vision as my legs felt like dropping out from under me again. This place was dead, abandoned and destroyed. Whatever hopes I had of finding another marker here, another place to go, were dashed. I wanted to stand and cry. To just forget everything again. Let life slip away from me, return to how I had been. Pointless, meaningless, without direction or thought.
But something else lingered in the back of my mind. A quiet voice from my past. If I walked away now, what would become of Requiem? That voice insisted she needed somepony to look after her. That abandoning her was worse than dieing again. The usually dissenting voices, those which insisted hope was not worth suffering for, were strangely silent on this.
My head hung low as I stood, slowly plodding back towards Arsenal and Requiem. No matter how easy it would be, how much happier I would be, I couldn’t abandon her. She had lost her home, her family, her friends. I was all she had left. Leaving her now would mean abandoning her to a slow, lonely death. I couldn’t do that. She deserved better.
Blinking the last tears from my eyes I took a deep breath and slowly, shakily, stepped back into the light.
Arsenal was carefully picking her way across the room, avoiding touching any of the skeletons littering the floor. Somehow she managed to look even more miserable than she had when I rescued her. “How anypony could live in a place like this I will never understand.” I considered answering her, but really didn’t want to deal with it right now.
I plodded slowly back across the room, looking around for any sign of Requiem. I couldn’t feel her on my back any more. Part of me was worried, if she’d run off somewhere I might not be able to find her. But that part was quickly silenced as I caught sight of a bright red tail poking out from behind one of the overturned tables.
Requiem had taken up a place behind it, directly beneath a light, reading her magazine. She backed away the moment she noticed me looking over the table. My heart ached again as I had to swallow the urge to start crying again. Even now she didn’t trust me. I wasn’t sure if she ever would. My imagination sprang up as I saw a future of her growing up and growing old, never speaking a word or connecting with anypony. A lonely, damaged, pained life. All I could do was whisper, “I’m sorry...” closing my eyes and stepping away. How much I wanted to reassure her the world would be well again. To tell her she didn’t have to fear. But I knew better than that. I just couldn’t bring myself to lie to her about something that important.
For a moment I was at a loss. I had nowhere left to go. This place was empty and abandoned. No new markers. The only memories here were as desolate as my surroundings. The slavers had been here once, but that was long ago. I had come so far, done so much, and now there was nothing? My head throbbed, my legs ached.
I stormed across the room, smashing skeletons as hard as I could, “Why? Why doesn’t anyone have any answers!?” without thinking I scooped one of the skulls up with my magic and glared at it, “Who am I!? Who were you? Where did I come from? Why can’t I remember? What happened to me??” Unreasonable demands, even for a living pony. I hurled the skull across the room as hard as I could, over the walls and out of the light.
Arsenal groaned quietly as she sat in a small clear area surrounded by skeletons, “I want to go home...” her voice was quiet and shaky.
Without thinking I snapped back, “Then go! Fly off back home! Leave the world behind! Why should you care!?”
The pegasus responded in misery, even worse than before, “I can’t fly... Can’t go home.”
Couldn’t fly? That was what her misery was about? My response came from somewhere deep inside, “Then walk!” practically charging up to her, “Walk until your hooves crack!” my mind echoed with a chorus of rage, “Walk until your legs ache!” unwanted voices demanded I teach her the way of the world, “Until the wind and rain bite at your coat!” demanded she had to know misery, “Until your eyes burn with sand!” said that she couldn’t possibly know what it was like, “Until your throat bleeds with thirst!” no one could know what it was like, “Until you can’t walk any further!” they wished to show her the truth of the darkness, “Until- Until...”
The words died in my throat. ‘Until even your hope dies’. The chorus in my mind demanded she had to know the truth. To see the wasteland for what it was. But somewhere a part of me protested. It claimed that those words were a worse curse than should be placed upon anypony. Yet, here I was, about to spew such a horrid thing to a victim. The closest thing I had to a friend. For the first time since I awoke in the Junkyard, I felt old. The weight of a past I couldn’t remember settling on my mind. Where had all of that come from?
Arsenal had begun backing away from me at my first declaration. Fear obvious in her eyes. Each soul-crushing demand drove her further from me. Staring up at me with those incredibly sad, miserable eyes. She looked like she was about to break down crying.
A sudden gurgle from her stomach changed that, as it decided that moment was a perfect time to violently eject its contents. Suddenly I found myself standing in the warm, sticky remains of what had been cake a short time ago as Arsenal regurgitated the contents of her stomach all over the floor.
“Uuugh.” Arsenal couldn’t do much more than groan in misery afterwards. My PipBuck clicked slowly, the gentle euphoria from the tunnels returning. This time I backed away quickly. However good it felt, I was -not- going to stand in vomit to get more of it!
Stomping the goo from my hooves I considered what I was going to do. Arsenal was obviously sick. But I was out of medical supplies. Worse, I had no idea what kind I’d need to treat this! We had to find somewhere to get her help.
Of course, things were never that easy. A low hiss spread through the room. Barely loud enough to be audible over the falling water. Fear ran through me as I triggered my EFS. Dozens of red markers were visible. The zombies had found us again. They must have been in the water tunnels! I could hear water splashing as dozens of bodies landed in the darkness.
Requiem scrambled out from behind the table, magazine in her mouth. A moment later she had stuffed it into one of my saddle bags and was hiding behind me. The soggy, squishy hoofbeats from beyond the lit area resounded in my mind. I turned my attention back towards Arsenal, who looked like she was about to collapse. Why did the world seem to pick the worst possible times for horrible things to happen? Was there a good time for horrible things to happen? I had to resist the urge to let my mind wander.
It was only a moment later when the first zombie pony leaped up one of the metal walls. It clung to the edge with rotting forelegs, hissing angrily and struggling to climb over. Arsenal was barely standing, I was nearly out of ammo, Requiem couldn’t fight nearly this many at once. My heart raced, desperately looking around the camp. There had to be somewhere we could go from here! Right? Right!?
*Bzzzack!*
The distinctive crack of Arsenal’s weapon filled the air. The first zombie to make it over the wall collapsed into a pile of pink ash. “I may... May be sick. But I’m not... Not dead, yet!” she certainly wasn’t well, either! Two more zombies scrambled over the wall with a splat as they hit the ground.
“There! A ladder!” It lead up towards darkness, but anything had to be better than here right now! I sprung to my feet and began to rush across the room towards it. Requiem was already on my back as I moved, but Arsenal was struggling to even manage to stand up right. Desperate to not get caught here I wrapped her in my magic and floated her with me.
“Put me down! I can walk for myself!” Even now she continued to protest the idea of accepting help from a surface-dweller? Pride had its advantages, but that was definitely not one of them. She flapped her wings weakly, turning around in my magic field and firing twice more. Two more of the zombies fell to the ground unmoving, “See!? I’m fine! You muckdwellers worry too much!” Wasn’t she the one complaining about how horrible things were just a moment ago?
I scrambled up the ladder as fast as I could. Requiem was clinging to me, desperate not to fall off. Behind me Arsenal floated, continuing to take shots at the zombies even as we ascended. In a moment I could see a marehole cover. My heart raced with panic, tiny bits of light leaked through the edges. There was a chance to get out. If we could get to the surface the zombies would stop chasing us, right!?
I rushed the cover as fast as I could, throwing my weight against it. Pleasebeunblockedpleasbeunblockedpleasebeunblocked!
*** *** ***
My impact sent the cover flying through the air, landing back on hard pavement with a resounding smash. For a moment I scrambled to get my hooves through the hole, struggling to pull myself further upwards out of the sewers. The hole was almost too small for me to fit through, built to be big enough to be comfortable for a normal pony. Panic ran through my mind, what if I got stuck!? The thought of just teleporting out into the light beyond barely registered.
A moment of scrambling brought me up into the light. Behind me I pulled Arsenal from the darkness with my magic. The distinctive crack of her weapon firing several more times, “You’d better run!” shaking a hoof at the open hole. Bravado had won out over her fear, it seemed. In a moment I released my magic and she fell to the ground in a heap, “Oof! Be more gentle!”
Still in a panic, I grabbed the marehole cover with my magic as the first of the zombies got close enough to stick a hoof through the hole. I dropped the cover onto their head with a resounding splat. The sound of screaming and toppling echoed weakly from beneath the surface. A leg leaking black ooze still above the surface, severed by the impact of the cover.
My heart throbbed angrily a few long moments before my legs gave out from under me. Slumping to the ground as the adrenaline of the chase began to fade. Arsenal moved shakily, “Did you have to be so rough? You could have warned me!” a groan escaped my lips. I wasn’t in any mood to keep arguing with her after that. Requiem leaped from my back to stand nearby, just close enough for me to see her scowling in annoyance at Arsenal. It seemed she wasn’t any more pleased with our new companion right now than I was.
Slowly the three of us began to gather ourselves together again. Sitting near the now-blocked sewer entrance. Around us were piles of debris. Broken metal, rocks, wheels and gears. Buildings were visible over top of them not too far away, along with train tracks criss-crossing the entire area. The raider leader had called this place Central Junction, and my PipBuck agreed. A train switching and repair yard. It must have been the largest in the area with a name like that. Part of me protested this place was important, but I couldn’t begin to put a hoof on why.
For a moment everything was quiet. Then, all at once, a figure burst over top of a scrap pile. The rotting, grey and red color of a zombie! A cracked, angry voice filling the air, “GIT OFFA MY YARD, YA SHAMBLERS!” The silhouette of a shotgun in a battle saddle visible at the figure’s side.
I screamed in time with Arsenal, the two of us backing together. Requiem leaped behind us without hesitation, scrambling for cover. Without thinking I wrapped my shield around all three of us. My heart nearly leaping from my chest. Another zombie pony!? And this one could talk! And had a gun! And... A hat? Yes, definitely a hat. A large hat, now more patches than actual hat. Only small patches of blue and white stripes visible outside of the bill.
“Eh? What? Zombies don’ scream!” The strange pony turned his head to one side as he descended the scrap pile towards us, “An’ they don’ got no fancy shields, neither!” Trotting right up to tap on my shield with a forehoof. The way it squished against the outside of my glowing dome was rather disturbing. He was definitely the same kind of creature as the zombie ponies. I could see that clearly now. The rotting flesh was a bit different, however. One of his eyes appeared to have grown over entirely.
My heart seemed to have stopped trying to escape, instead settling on lodging itself firmly in my throat. I opened my mouth to speak, only for Arsenal to beat me to it, “You crazy old stallion! I almost shot you!” Okay, not quite the words I would have chosen, but accurate.
The not-a-zombie pony turned his head to look us over, “Yer a pegasus! Ain’t seen one uh them since... Since...” he trailed off a few moments, “Ah don’ remember.” eye straying towards me, “An’ yer one uh those false Goddesses th’ radio goes on ‘bout!” Part of me wanted to groan at being called a goddess again, shrinking away from that comparison just as much now as before. I didn’t deserve to be called that. “Didn’ think any of y’all would come out here!”
“You’re a ZOMBIE!” Arsenal protested, “How can you complain about what we are!?”
“Ah ain’t no zombie! Ah’m an Earth Pony! Ah’m Th’ Conductor! That’s what they used ta call me. Back when ponies used ta ride th’ trains. Awful lonely here now. Only th’ blasted shamblers ta keep me company.”
Arsenal opened her mouth to continue her protest, but I silenced her with a hoof, “How long have you been here..?” I had a sneaking suspicion this old earth pony was even worse off than I was.
There was a long pause as he stared at me, “Ah don’ know. Long time. Alla mah trains ‘ve started fallin’ apart. Cept my baby. They built ‘er to last. Sealed ‘er up right good!” he grinned, showing off a mouth full of crooked teeth, many of which were missing, “C’mon. Ah’ll show ya ‘round. Don’ get many visitors!”
Shakily I rose to my feet, following after this strange pony as he began to walk away. Arsenal and Requiem both gave me skeptical looks and all I could do was a weak smile in return, “He seems nice enough! What do we have to lose?” Requiem just rolled her eyes as Arsenal shook her head. But, they did follow after me.
“This here’s one uh the oldest trains in th’ yard! She was built way back b’fore th’ war started!” ‘That there’ was a rusted pile of crap. The ancient metal having long since given way. Only the faintest resemblance to a train engine remained. The Conductor lead onwards, “An’ this’s a real classic! She ran fer years! One uh th’ first t’ make th’ trip t’ Zebra lands ‘n back!” Another rusted out pile of junk sat before us. It was quickly becoming clear that the Conductor was not all there. In fact, I wasn’t sure he was there at all! He seemed to believe that all these trains still worked. His collection!
As I followed along my mind began to wander. My interest in his tour quickly waning. I began to search my PipBuck for anything else to listen to, only to come across a recording I didn’t recognize. Labeled simply as “Radio Broadcast #3”. When had I found that? I wasn’t sure, but anything was better than listening to somepony ramble about trains which hadn’t worked in centuries! Well, I could hope at least.
“Evacuation is complete. Final forces withdraw in fifteen minutes. Victorious will leave threatened airspace in thirty minutes. All forces who plan to leave with us had best be on board before that happens!
“Recon Team 17 reports movement near relay broadcaster. Dispatch recovery and neutralization team. We cannot afford to have anypony recover records of our flight.
“Recovery team is to meet for extraction at fall-back point after mission is finished. Should they fail to return, dispatch a second neutralization team. Find those who stopped them and eradicate all survivors.
“Nopony on the surface or the air can be allowed to follow us. Too many lives hang upon our wings.
“Fly steady. Victorious out.”
My mind went blank for a moment. The whole message made no sense at all. Relay broadcaster? Wasn’t that what the Applejack’s Rangers were using the radio tower for? Fly steady..? There were pegasi in the radio station as well. Were they the recovery team? That would mean... There were more pegasi on the way to attack the Applejack’s Rangers!
A chill ran up my spine at remembering the massacre within the radio station. If they could do that in enclosed spaces, how much worse would fighting them on open ground be? We had to get back to the hospital, right now!
The Conductor had reached the end of his tour, “An’ this’s where they kept mah baby! ... Th’ Rainbow Express!” I only barely caught a hooffull of his words. My mind preoccupied with the worries of what was certain to happen soon, if it wasn’t already happening right now!
“Arsenal! Requiem! We’re leaving!” I straightened up and didn’t even bother to see if either of them were listening. Galloping away from the Conductor, following the marker on my map. Fast as my legs would carry me I ran, weaving between piles of junk. Somewhere behind me I could hear the Conductor shouting for us to come back soon. Requiem kept pace with me surprisingly well give her size, Arsenal falling slightly behind.
“H-hey! Wait up!” Arsenal panted as she ran. My mind was too occupied with my own stupidity and lack of focus! I had this message before! My PipBuck must have acquired it at the radio station! Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have known this was coming before! Couldn’t stop now, couldn’t wait. Had to get back before something horrible happened!
*** *** ***
Too late.
The smell reached me before the sight. Roasted meat mixed with an angry electric tang. Cresting a hill I could see the hospital. The patched together area near the top had collapsed again, the walls were broken and battered, no signs of movement outside the building.
Fear welled up in the back of my mind, had they all been killed? Was this all my fault? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have checked my PipBuck earlier! I should have brought Arsenal back for treatment straight away! Should have done something different. Been here when they needed me! The fear I had felt in Central Junction returned full force.
For a moment I almost turned around to leave. My heart was heavy and worn, after everything else which had happened today. Desperate for something, anything, to cling to. Or to just make the hurting stop. Then I spotted it, a single friendly marker on my EFS. Somepony was down there. Somepony was alive!
Without thinking I rushed down the hill. Somewhere behind me Arsenal was huffing and wheezing in her attempt to keep up with me. Requiem was practically under my hooves as we descended, weaving in and out between my legs to avoid the larger rocks. She had kept pace with me all the way from Central Junction, never once leaving my side.
Movement in the rubble gave me momentary hope. Then I caught sight of what it was. A black, shiny mass pulled itself from a collapsed section of wall. It looked more insect than pony. Bulging eyes and a long segmented tail. Like the armor I had seen in the radio station.
The black-clad pegasus spread their wings and bolted into the air, seemingly without noticing my presence. My EFS still marked them as friendly. Friendly? They had attacked the Applejack’s Rangers! How could they possibly be friendly!?
My wonder about how the PipBuck determined hostility was violently interrupted by the scream of missiles. Three streamers of light and smoke erupted from the upper levels of the hospital. But the pegasus was in full retreat, weaving between the missiles with practiced ease. In a moment they were little more than a spot on the horizon.
I wanted to spread my wings and fly after them. To find out where they were going. To ask where they came from. So many questions swam in my mind. But, I had to swallow those desires for now. There were still survivors here! They were still fighting back! Without thinking I rushed onwards.
The main gate to the hospital had been blown from its rollers. It sat crumpled and beaten across the courtyard. By the time I reached it there was already a figure outside the doors waiting for me. A familiar ice blue unicorn dressed in dark red robes. A name came to my mind, Frozen Fog. The Head Scribe was here, meeting with me? That surprised me, given the obvious contempt he had shown when last we met.
“You’re not welcome here. Go home.” His words stung. I wasn’t expecting him to be polite, but to turn us away immediately?
“Why? What happened here? There must be something I can do to help!” The voices in my head protested that it was my fault. I should have been here earlier. Should do something now that I was here!
Frozen Fog snorted, “I believe you have done quite enough. Or are you going to tell me you were unaware that your little excursion was the source of this catastrophe?”
My... Excursion? “I... What?” My mind raced, what had I done wrong? Had I made some mistake somewhere along the way? I was late returning, but that wouldn’t cause this!
The scribe gritted his teeth, speaking with barely contained rage, “You. Went. To. The. Radio. Station. You. Copied. The. Recording.” my blood froze in my veins, “We captured one of the attackers. They found the records of the recording being duplicated. Found the dead Paladin you left behind. They came here, for us! Do you understand now!? This is your fault!”
My legs felt weak. My stomach churned. My eyes refused to focus properly. This... This was because of me? This death? How many had been lost here? How many more would still be lost? I... I couldn’t do anything here. He was right. I hung my head low, intent to leave, when I felt a tug. Requiem was sitting by my side, trying to get my attention. She was staring at something behind us.
Slowly I raised my vision. Arsenal was huffing and barely managing to walk as she crossed the destroyed gate. Requiem watching her approach in silence. Somewhere far above I was certain the remaining Paladins were as well.
“And you’re consorting with our enemies!? You really were nothing but a monster.” Fog’s words cut into my mind. Parts of me reeled. I had saved Arsenal from a fate worse than death! I had protected Requiem’s life! I had stopped the raiders who destroyed her home! I was not a monster! I... I wasn’t a monster... I couldn’t be. Parts of me agreed with him. I hadn’t just stopped the raiders, I slaughtered them. I hadn’t saved Requiem, I had avenged her. I put her in danger by attacking the base. It was my fault she was shot in the first place. My mind fought with itself.
Arsenal stumbled a moment, her voice almost hoarse as she gasped for air, “Aurora..? I don’t... I don’t feel so well.” She swayed briefly, before collapsing to the ground. Her eyes didn’t even close properly as she hit, staring off in different directions.
No! Nonono! Not now! I couldn’t let her die because of me! I pushed her even after everything she’d been through! I should have carried her! Whatever happened now, I couldn’t just let her die! My attention spun back towards Frozen Fog. He was looking down from the top of the stairs at Arsenal’s comatose form.
“You... You’re going to help her! I know you have to have something here to help her with!” I very nearly charged across the yard. Everything inside me screamed that I had to make him understand!
“Help? Help our enemy? Why would I do that!? She’s probably the one who called the attackers in the first place!” He waved off the idea with a forehoof, dismissive of even thinking of it, “Take her back to whatever pit you crawled out of. Find her help there. You seemed so sure you could take care of that filly, last time you were here.” his gaze turned towards Requiem, who scrambled back to hide under my tail. I could practically feel the angry death-gaze she gave from her hiding place.
“She is not your enemy! She’s... She’s just a pony! A pony who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time!” … Like me. A pony who had been abused by the world. Part of me wondered if that was why I was helping her. Was it because it was the right thing to do? Or was it just because it’s what I wished someone had done for me? I did my best to put the question from my mind. Now was not the time.
“She’s a pegasus! Probably one of the ones who attacked us in the radio station!” Frozen Fog trotted down the stairs, moving towards Arsenal, “You should be thankful I don’t order her executed on the spot!”
Without thinking I shoved a wing between the unicorn and my friend, “You said before you didn’t trust me. That you remembered what the last Alicorn who came here did.” I lowered my head, pressing nose to nose to him, “I’m asking you this then. Do you want to find out what I will do if you decide to kill her?”
The conflict in my mind grew stronger, parts of me insisted this was the worst possible thing I could do. Threatening the one source of hope I had? But... He wasn’t going to help her, was he? He was going to just let her die! I had to do... To do something!
Frozen Fog just laughed at that and pressed back against me, “You!? You could barely even manage to speak for yourself! You couldn’t possi-”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” The unicorn’s complaints were violently ended by another voice. A familiar voice, though lacking the metallic twang from our last meeting. Star Paladin Lilac silenced Fog, “Fog! Are you really going to do this again!?” Again? Was it really common enough for him to react to others this way?
Frozen Fog shrunk back slightly, “Lilac. You should be in -bed-. You’re not well enough to be up and abo-”
“Shove it, Fog. I’m well enough to use my own damn wheelchair. I’m not letting you pin this one on somepony who had nothing to do with it!” Lilac’s response came even before the unicorn finished speaking. Fog just folded his ears down and shrunk further at her complaint.
Wheelchair? My gaze strayed finally from the unicorn, towards the other voice. At the top of the stairs, just barely outside the doors, was a light purple earth pony seated in a wheelchair. Half of her coat was missing, the marks of freshly healed burns across almost half of her body. Two of her legs were completely gone, barely more than stumps. One of her eyes was sealed over with scar tissue. It was like somepony had come and cut her in half, then pieced her back together. ‘Awful’ would have been a step up.
“We can’t help her! She’s a pegasus! They were the ones who-” Fog resumed his previous complaints without missing a beat.
“Whatever she was, she’s a victim now! Or are you going to tell me that you’ll turn somepony in need away because you don’t like their ancestors!?” Again Lilac cut Fog off. Was he going to finish a single sentence in this conversation? “You took the oath, same as all of us! I wouldn’t think you’d throw that away just because of this.”
The unicorn was looking profoundly annoyed at this point, grinding his teeth. Even I could tell he wanted to yell at Lilac, but swallowed it despite that. A long pause filled the air, “Fine! You’re right. We’ll help her.” he glared back up at me, “You, bring her. I’ll show you where to put her.” he turned about in a huff, storming off inside.
Lilac sat quietly on the stairs a few moments, “I’m impressed. Fog must like you.” LIKE me? He’d just yelled at me! And tried to blame me for them being attacked! “Usually he’s way less friendly.” THAT was friendly!? I let out a quiet groan and slowly levitated Arsenal off the ground. Moving to follow after Fog.
As I passed Lilac I could see Requiem pause on the steps. She sat by the side of the wheelchair where Lilac couldn’t see, looking up at severely injured purple mare. Lilac spoke quietly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. We should have been there. Done something.” Just barely I caught sight of Requiem pressing her cheek against Lilac’s leg and beginning to cry, before the doors swung closed behind me. I wanted to stay and watch, to find out more, but Arsenal’s life was in danger.
*** *** ***
The interior of the hospital followed the same design as the outside. Soft pink walls, hard tile flooring, all of it faded and stained with age. Frozen Fog lead me down the corridors in silence. His irritation over Lilac’s speech was palpable. Despite the parts of me which wanted to rub his face in it, I remained silent. Don’t make the ones who are about to help your friend angry.
Finally we arrived at a small room. Well, it felt small to me. A medical bed sat against one wall. A large metal tube with a butterfly cross on it stood against the opposite wall. “Put her on the bed.” I followed Fog’s instructions silently, “Good. Now. Go away. I will get her back to her old self. Or whatever passes for a self.”
My heart skipped a beat, “You want me to leave her alone? With you? You just threatened to let her die!” The image of her slowly wasting away on the table as Frozen Fog stood by doing nothing swam through my mind.
Fog glared at me, “Because you take up too much space! If you’re not going to help, then get out of my way!” he began to pace through the room, grabbing instruments from a shelving unit in the corner, “Not like I would expect you to know what’s wrong with her.” Augh! Was everypony I met with an education going to talk down to me!? At least Scraps was nice!
Scraps. She’d offered to let me stay with her at the Junkyard. I didn’t have anywhere left to go now. My past had run out, my direction had dried up. Maybe I should just go back. Her home was safe, at least for now. Take Requiem and Arsenal with me, if these ponies weren’t going to treat us better.
The sound of metallic thumping drew my attention back to reality. Another member of the Applejack’s Rangers came galloping up the hallway towards us, “Fog! Sir! One of the Pegasi escaped. They flew off above the cloud cover, before we could shoot them down.” Shouting down the halls even before he got close enough to see me. For a moment I was afraid he might come rushing through the doorway and ram right into me!
Frozen Fog just gritted his teeth again, “Then we’ll have to pack up and leave. Spread the word to the others. Tomorrow morning we rig the hospital with explosives. We’ll find a new home.” he cast an angry glare at me, “Somewhere we’ll be safe. Now go away. I have a patient to tend to!”
The paladin backed away, turning his head to look up at me. He cleared his throat quietly, “You’d best leave Fog alone. He gets grouchy when ponies interrupt his work.”
“You don’t say.”
“Come on.” he motioned to me. I was still worried about Arsenal, but right now Fog was right, I couldn’t do any good standing here. Slowly I stood and followed the armor-clad pony down the hallways, “I’m sure he can get your friend put back together. Those medical machines are amazing. Creepy, but amazing.”
“Medical machines?” That piqued my interests. Some part of my mind hummed with recognition.
The unnamed pony nodded his head, “Those big metal tubes. They’re some kind of automated medical machines. Got shipped here before the war.” we rounded a corner together to find a room containing a single small terminal, “Here we go. If you want to know more about them, there’s some old audio log recordings.”
Now I was really curious. It didn’t take long to hook my PipBuck to the terminal and begin copying the files on it. Four files, three were labeled as medical logs. The fourth seemed to be some kind of medical data. I copied all of them, it wasn’t as though there was a reason to leave them behind.
“It’s a shame.” The Paladin with me commented quietly, “If Fog’s right, we’ll end up destroying those machines. None of us have the knowledge to disconnect them without damaging them.” That was surprising, hadn’t they been running this place for ages?
I looked away from the terminal, disconnecting as the transfer finished, “None of you? Even after being here so long?”
The paladin shook his head, beginning to walk again, “Well. Scribe Waffle Iron would have known. He was the one who’d spent the most time studying how they were connected. But, he died in the attack today. Without him, the best we could do is make an educated guess and hope for the best.”
Scribe Waffle Iron? Lilac had referred to the scribe I first met as Waffle. “How... How many of you are left?”
My guide didn’t miss much of a beat as we walked up a set of stairs, “Eight of us. Including Lilac. Waffle Iron, Willow, Raindrop and Elder Muffins all died in the attack.” his voice was graven, even through the speakers of his armor.
For a long moment I was silent, following him quietly. My mind drifted. Four more dead, and how many more pegasi? How many had died here today because I was too slow? The thought churned in the back of my mind, long and slow.
Finally he shoved a door open, revealing a roof, “Here. You can stay up here tonight. We should be safe until morning, but we don’t have anywhere set up inside which would be big enough for you to sleep in.”
Stepping out onto the roof I let my mind wander again, the Paladin who had lead me around departing silently. Requiem was off with Lilac somewhere. Arsenal was on a bed, being examined. I was alone, in a building full of ponies there was no one here who would want to listen to me.
Slowly I sank to the ground, looking out over the edge of the building. Evening was fast approaching. The distant light of the sun beginning to fade from the clouds. Soon everything would be wrapped in darkness again.
My heart sank with my legs. Today I had murdered. I had destroyed. I had weathered and fallen and cried and lost. I had run out of things to believe in. The weight of it all fell on me now that we were out of danger. I closed my eyes and tears began to flow. For my friends, for my past, for my future. All I wanted to do was let my sorrow carry me away.
*** *** ***
Hours passed in silence. Darkness covered the sky. Tears stained my face. My legs were heavy. My heart and mind were numb. My whole body felt empty. Desperate for anything to take me away from this place, I slowly ticked the audio logs on. I would listen, try to rest.
“The Ministry of Arcane Sciences finished installing the first of their automated medical pods today.
“I still think they’re a terrible idea. Ponies need ponies to heal them. Not some impersonal tube. But, if these things work even half as well as they’re supposed to it’ll cut down our work dramatically.
“I’ve been told I’m supposed to keep records of their use, for further study. Figures, they send us something still in testing. Sometimes I don’t think the Ministries give a damn about what happens on the front lines! It’s bad enough having to treat the worst medivac patients. Now I have to keep records of their damn testing too.
“Ugh. I’d better stop or I’m going to spend all day angry. Tomorrow we’ll begin using these things on some of the injured soldiers coming in. I hope they work. I don’t want to have to send any more apology letters...”
Part of my mind protested the idea that this pony could blame the Ministries for trying to help! Another, larger, part of me was confused about what the Ministries were. The Ministry of Arcane Sciences. That sounded so familiar, but I just couldn’t place it. I tripped the second recording, maybe something more there..?
“First tests of the healing pods have been positive. Automatic diagnosis and treatment have been both quick and effective. Nearly a hundred percent recover rate in subjects. Guess that sometimes even the Ministries can do something right.
“We’ve encountered a few minor problems. Most notably that those subjects who were conscious when put in complain about the intense discomfort caused by the devices. For now I’m ordering that any individual to be treated should be sedated first. The medical units will purge the sedatives from their system as well, but at least it gets us fewer complaints.
“The effects on short-term injuries and less severe damage has been astounding. In one case we even managed to re-attach a severed leg which had been preserved! Tomorrow we’ll begin administering treatments to long-term patients.”
Recovering severed limbs? Maybe there was some hope for Arsenal’s recovery after all. She might even get her wings back! She’d definitely be thrilled by that idea. Though my thoughts strayed to the question of whether or not she’d fly off back home and leave us behind. She really had no reason to keep following me, after all.
There was one more recording.
“We’ve encountered a significant limitation on the healing properties of these machines. Long term or chronic damage, which has already had a chance to heal through natural means, won’t be repaired properly. Yesterday we attempted to use them to help a soldier who had suffered a severed leg a month ago. The machine reported him as being healthy!
“Healthy!? He’s missing a leg! Whatever system they’re using to determine the subject’s state doesn’t seem to be able to determine the difference between healed old wounds and unwounded individuals. This is going to cause us some problems, I’m sure.
“Unfortunately this destroys any hope we had of being able to restore long-term injury victims to full capabilities. I’ve heard some rumors of the Ministry of Peace and Ministry of Technology working on a solution to that. I’ll believe that when I see it.
“We’ll continue to administer uses of the machines to injured patients and collect medical data. But I don’t expect any further major breakthroughs.”
Oh. My heart sank again. However worrying the idea of Arsenal leaving was, the idea of her being crippled for the rest of her life seemed too cruel. I thought briefly of Lilac’s state. Had she gone through one of these machines to save her? She was certainly whole the first time we met...
The soft click of the door echoed in the silence of the night. Soon joined by a quiet squeaking. Looking up I could see a figure in a wheelchair approaching. The odd shape of the silhouette told me it was Lilac again. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
I shook my head, then remembered that it was the middle of the night, “No.”
A slight stirring on her chair attracted my attention a moment before Requiem leaped down onto the rooftop. She’d been riding with Lilac? She trusted Lilac enough not to hurt her, though I wasn’t certain why. The moment she was on the rooftop Requiem began to move. Roll, cartwheel, buck, kick, dive, bound. A strange kind of pattern to her movement. Practice of something? I wasn’t sure.
Lilac let out a quiet chuckle, “She wanted somewhere to stretch her legs. Had something she wanted to practice. Thought the roof might be a good place. Wasn’t expecting anypony up here.”
Had Requiem actually spoken to Lilac? That idea felt terrifying and delighting. Requiem wouldn’t even speak to me, but the thought there might be someone, somewhere she trusted enough to talk to? It gave me a faint glimmer of hope for her future.
“They’re beautiful.” Lilac spoke quietly as she moved her chair next to me.
“What are?”
“The stars.”
Slowly I traced her vision towards the sky. The clouds had parted during my breakdown. A great gulf had opened in the sky. Tiny, white lights twinkled far away. Distant and cold, beautiful in their frozen blackness. I had to agree with her, they were beautiful. They brought a soft, comforting warmth to my heart. Something distant, faded by time and pain, but not yet lost.
“Thank you.” Lilac was still staring at the sky as she spoke, “For taking care of Requiem. For saving her.”
“Why?” The idea that she cared so much about the filly seemed strange, certainly these were good ponies. But why fixate so much on her?
Lilac sighed quietly, “Before all this began, I used to travel to South-End Junction to buy and sell supplies. Her parents owned the trading post and bar. I remember the first time she spoke to me. The first time I got to hear her play music. She was always so happy then. But... The raiders came. They’d always stayed close to the center of the city. But after the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows, I guess even the wicked ponies found something new to fight for.”
Day of Sunshine and Rainbows? That name sounded familiar, but I wasn’t sure why. But more importantly, Lilac knew Requiem! For a moment I just stared at her in silence as she continued her story.
“We should have been there. We knew the raiders were planning something big. They’d been sending scouts through the ruins. But with everything which had happened in the last month, reconnecting with the rest of the Rangers was deemed a priority.” she lowered her head, a tear slipping from her eye, “We lost our friends, and with them the numbers to risk sending to help protect the town. We couldn’t risk the raiders or enclave attacking the hospital. Stealing what we’d been protecting here. We should have been there, have saved her.”
A long silence, “I should have been there.”
My heart ached. My head filled with a soft throbbing. I wanted to cry for her, “Don’t blame yourself. I should have been faster. Done more. I saw them coming. I...” my voice failed me for the second time today. I could have stopped them. I should have stopped them. “I’ll take care of her. As long as she’ll let me.”
Lilac smiled slightly, staring up at the skies, “Then you’d better get used to having her around. I’ve never seen that filly change her mind once she sets her sights on something. And I don’t think she’s going to give up on you either.”
My mind drifted back to the prison. They had caught her there. But, was it because she wasn’t good enough at hiding? Or had she come looking for me? Afraid that I’d gotten myself into trouble?
Requiem finally finished whatever it was she was practicing and trotted over. Without hesitation she flopped down at my side, digging the gold-bound book from my saddle bag and snuggling in under my wing. What she wanted was obvious enough.
I levitated the book out infront of me and cracked it open. Beginning to read again, a story which seemed to come to me more effortlessly than the words on the page, “Once upon a time, long ago, before the goddesses ruled over Equestria...”
*** *** ***
“... And you! That knee joint is out of alignment. Of course you’re having problems with limping.” Arsenal’s voice echoed down the halls as Requiem and I approached the dining room. The smell of freshly heated packaged meals filled the air, “Erg. Don’t any of you muckdwellers know how to maintain a basic suit of power armor!?”
“H-hey! Scribe Waffle Iron was-” The distinctive metallic twang of a pony in Steel Ranger armor echoed down the halls.
“Wasn’t very good.” Arsenal’s reply cut them off, “You can’t just rely on auto-repair spells! This armor is a work of art. A beautiful fusion of form and function. And here you are wearing it into the ground! It’s a crime against arcanotechnology!” she was being her usual huffy self, it seemed.
“What are you... Stay away from me with that! FOG! You’ve gotta get her under control!” the same voice as before. Followed by the squeal of metal against metal. That was a little worrying.
“Hmph. Her ‘friends’ should be down here any minute. She won’t listen to me. I even threatened to shoot her.” Frozen Fog’s response had all the enthusiasm I had come to expect from him.
I rounded the corner into the dining room. Arsenal had cornered one of the Applejack’s Rangers behind a table and appeared to be in the process of disassembling one of their legs. Screwdriver held in her mouth and a wrench between her hooves. Her wings were gloriously chain-free, but I could still see the way her feathers warped where they had been pierced. She might no longer be shackled, but she was certainly not whole.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. Momma’s going to make it all better.” The dark red pegasus spoke with a quiet, soothing voice for once.
“You’re not my mother! And I’m already fine!”
Arsenal simply looked up with an angry glare at the one inside the armor, “Not you, you brute.” before returning to her attentions.
For a moment all I could do was stand in the doorway and stare at this bizarre scene unfolding before my eyes. I knew Arsenal wasn’t a coward, but the pony she was assaulting was carrying missiles! And grenades! And who knows what else! Did she... Did she have a death wish? Maybe, but she certainly didn’t seem to be having difficulty with what she was doing.
Eventually Arsenal relented, carefully replacing the section of armor she had opened. Sliding back across the table, “There. All better. I cannot believe that you would go so long without proper repairs! I suppose I shouldn’t expect much from those down here. But I would have thought that the vaunted Steel Rangers would know at least a little better!”
The Applejack’s Ranger she had been assaulting slowly flexed their leg, “Hey... The tugging and lag is gone!”
Arsenal just rolled her eyes and trotted away, “Ignorant brutes.” looking up to me with a grin as she approached, “My savior has arrived! Now, come along. You deserve a reward for everything you’ve done!”
I opened my mouth to protest, only to have Arsenal grab me by the mane and tug me into the room. I hadn’t come here for breakfast for myself, just for Requiem. Where was Requiem anyway? She’d disappeared shortly after we got to the doorway.
Arsenal dragged me across the room to a table covered in re-heated foodstuffs, “I staked a claim early. You deserve a little something special for helping me. And these savages have plenty to spare.”
“Your friend has such great social skills.” Frozen Fog had finished whatever he was having for breakfast, “I’m so glad we got the chance to meet.”
“Hmph! Some of us understand what it means to have standards! You’d probably be happy living in a box somewhere.” Arsenal turned her nose up at Fog’s remark.
What did I miss? Had these two really been arguing all morning? My mind reeled with questions I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer to.
The soft squeaking of Lilac’s wheelchair was audible during the momentary lull, “Am I interrupting something..? I thought it was time for breakfast. But it seems to be time for arguing instead.” Lilac’s voice was instantly reassuring. Finally, somepony who was sane!
I could feel Requiem return to my side, something carried in her mouth. Settling down under the table at my hooves to eat her own breakfast. The smell of the meal before me was intoxicating. I didn’t feel hungry, but part of me just wanted to eat it all anyway. Carefully I levitated an ancient snack cake from the table and took a bite.
My mouth exploded with sweet, unrestrained joy. My tongue elated in seven new ways. My heart raced and eyes swam. Why didn’t anypony tell me food was this good!? Without thinking I devoured the rest of the snack cake and began to dig into the rest of the meal. Arsenal had set out enough to feed three ponies. But right now I didn’t care about waste. My mouth was alive with joy, and a joy I so desperately wanted more of!
The screech of a chair on hard tile filled the room, “If you’re done insulting those who saved your life, I believe it is time for me to go and disconnect one of the auto-doctors for transport.” Fog stood from the remains of his meal.
Arsenal was across the room and out of my sight almost instantly, “Oh no! You are not going to hack one of those miracles apart! You brutes would just break it!”
“Hmph. And I suppose you can do better?”
“Of course I can! Do I look like an ignorant muckdweller to you?”
“I don’t know about dwelling. But you certainly have the muck.”
“Rrrrgh! Why you! Come along. I’ll show you how easy it is. Then maybe you will be able to follow along on your own.” Arsenal raised her nose as she trotted out of the room in irritation.
“Hmhm. If she’s half as good as she thinks she is, maybe she will be useful after all.” Fog followed her out.
The squeak of Lilac’s wheelchair grew louder, digging its way through my food-induced euphoria. Her own voice was quiet and delicate by comparison to those two, “I’m sorry about last night.”
Pausing in my meal I just looked up at her a moment, “Sorry? Sorry for what?” She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? Well, I was pretty sure she hadn’t.
Lilac looked down briefly, slowly moving a bowl of grey ooze which was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike oatmeal onto the table, “I shouldn’t have forced my problems on you like that. You care about Requiem. That’s all that should really matter. You don’t deserve to feel bad about my failures.” Her failures? Something about that prospect seemed wrong. But I was too infatuated with my food to linger upon it.
Downing the contents of a Sparkle~Cola bottle in one motion, I let the warm flat taste of carrots sweep over my mouth. It wasn’t hard to see why Scraps was so infatuated with these things. Somepony, somewhere, had been a genius for inventing a drink like that! The last of my meal had been cleared away. A warm, comfortable weight in my stomach. I hadn’t been hungry before, but somehow this felt better than just ‘not hungry’.
Silence filled the room as Lilac stared at her meal. For a moment she struggled to lean forwards, to get close enough to the bowl to be able to eat her own breakfast. It was obvious she wasn’t used to this, as she suddenly tumbled forwards, burying her muzzle into the warm goo. Part of me wanted to laugh, but I did my best to shut that part out, “Would you like some help..?”
Struggling to get her leg under her and lift herself from the bowl, Lilac shook her head, just staring at the meal a moment. She glared at the brown ooze, stoic and silent for a long moment. Gradually moving to bring her head back up, “No. I’ll be f-” she choked a moment, “Fine.” swallowing slowly. She stared at me a long, long moment with tightly closed lips. Briefly I considered leaving.
Her gaze turned from anger slowly towards sorrow as she bit down on her lips. Tears beginning to struggle out of her one remaining eye. Her leg trembled upon the table, before finally giving way again. A soft wet ‘splat’ accompanied her chin hitting the hard wood, followed by a snorting gasp, “I... I... I can’t... I can’t do it like this. I have t-to. C-can’t let someone else d-do things for me.” choking on her tears as she clenched her eye closed tightly.
She bawled, openly and without restraint, “I just... S-since then. I c-can’t do anything. Not... Not alone. I can’t.... I can’t be this! They deserve better!” another choked snort, her ears folded low against her head, “I don’t.. I won’t be their weak link. If... If I am. It’s better they leave me behind. I h-have to be st-strong enough. To be with them.” she cried quietly a long time. Struggling to regain her balance even as she fought back tears. Three more times she fell before making it upright again. Looking downward at her hooves and the oatmeal-covered table with quiet shame.
I winced at that. I really did just want to help. The way she must feel about this didn’t even occur to me. “I’m sorry. I... If there’s anything I can do for you, ever. Just... Just let me know.” A weak smile to a new friend. Or at least what I hoped might become one.
Her voice was low, almost hoarse, from the crying. It cracked and groaned, “Do you know where we could go? We can’t stay here. But we have no where left to retreat to. Manehattan is much too far away. Fillydelphia is still filled with fighting. We’re at the end of our rope now.” The way she said it, I was sure she wouldn’t have even asked if I weren’t here. That she didn’t like asking me for anything. Especially not now.
Somewhere to go? That was what I was looking for, too. A place to go. I’d run out of leads. Out of ideas. Nowhere left to go. No leads remained. But, I did know somewhere else. “I... I think I might know a place. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
Slowly Lilac raised her gaze again, the faintest beginnings of a smile on tear and oatmeal stained lips, “If you know anywhere, even if it’s only a chance, it’s better than nothing.”
*** *** ***
*WHUMP*
The thump of a massive metal tube into the carriage I was connected to sent a shock through my barding. The last of the three autodocs was loaded onto our caravan. Two teams of two earth ponies in Steel Ranger armor, and me drawing the third. A Scribe to ride along with each. Requiem, Arsenal and Lilac would be riding in the back of mine as well. It wasn’t much of a caravan, but it was all we had.
“And you didn’t think I could do it.” Arsenal had been insufferably proud of herself all morning.
“I guess there are some things featherbrains can do right.” Fog needled in return.
The pair had been going back and forth for hours. Neither one willing to accept the other was actually worthwhile. Silently I hoped that the two of them would react to Scraps slightly better. She at least didn’t seem so self-absorbed with her own greatness.
“That’s the last of it.” Lilac’s voice cut through my thoughts, “It’s time for us to leave.” she had a small detonator in her lap, wired to a dozen explosives in the hospital. The two of us had spent hours setting the charges together.
The wheels of the wagon behind me squeaked as I began walking. Heading away from an old home and towards a new one. The Applejack’s Rangers at my side, my friends behind me. Somehow it felt... Right. Like things were about to become better. Somewhere the spark of hope had returned. A brighter tomorrow.
Far above us the cloud cover had split open. The gaps through which I had watched the stars the night before had spread. The light of the morning sun cascaded through them, creating long lines against the horizon. Beams of golden light, filled with peace and joy. The sensation of the light against my coat a warm, comforting feeling. Like a road in the heavens pointing our way towards home.
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 6) New Perk: Cast ‘n Dash - You are adept at casting on the go. Halves the penalty to accuracy with spells due to moving while casting! Never worry about chasing down your opponents again.
Home is where the heart is. That’s what I’ve been told. That wherever you wander, your home is where you want to go when you’re lost. It’s the place where you rest your head and heart. Where your soul has a chance to recover. Where everything seems to be just the way it should be. However injured, tired or lonesome you are, home will make it all better.
What do you do when you lose your home? The Applejack’s Rangers had their home stolen by threat and necessity. Requiem’s home was destroyed by callousness and spite. Arsenal fell from the heavens and can no longer even reach her home. And my home was gone, lost to the mists of time and my own fogged memories. Or so I thought. Home is where the heart is, and your heart will always lead you back.
*** *** ***
Warm afternoon sun cascaded off jutting scrap metal. The great bulk of the Junkyard lay before us, broken and messy as ever. The faint, melodic buzzing of spritebots mixed with the sound of metal on metal from somewhere within the mass. The metallic tang of rust filled my nose as we approached. The whole yard seemed like it was within inches of collapsing on itself.
With a clear(er) mind, I could now see the signs around the edges of the yard. ‘Keep Out!’, ‘Danger: Robots!’ and ‘No Trespassers!’. Ancient signs faded with age and weather. A larger, more intricate, sign hung above the entrance to the yard. ‘Scrap Heap’s Repair Shop. We Take Custom Orders.’ had been spray painted over what was once a street sign and hung from a lamp post by chains.
The soft squeaking of wheels stopped as we reached the edge of the yard. For a moment I just stood in the warm sunlight, wings outstretched. Part of me wanted to just sit down and bask in the warm light. Soak in the joy of having an open sky above me. It was an impulse I had been fighting since we left the hospital yesterday morning. Part of me found it odd that such a simple thing could compel me so strongly. Another part of me protested that the open skies was the most important thing in the whole world. My thoughts drifted as I stared at the signs, not really seeing the words any more.
“You cannot seriously expect us to go in there, can you?” Frozen Fog’s voice cut through my distraction.
It took a moment to collect myself again, “Why not? It’s safe, there’s lots of supplies, it’s well defended.” I did my best to list off what I could think of which was positive.
“It’s full of killer robots.” Okay, that was a pretty good point, “Plus it’s the home of some mad mare.”
“Scraps isn’t mad! A little eccentric maybe, but not mad!” At least I was pretty sure she wasn’t mad.
“She builds killer robots. As a hobby. We’ve sent a few scout patrols out this way before. Every time they get shot at!” Fog’s recalcitrant position was beginning to irritate me.
I just groaned quietly, “She’s a nice mare who lives alone. Besides, she has an open shop, right? She’s got to know somepony!” Scraps was not a bad pony! Cautious maybe, but what I’d seen so far in the wastelands would make me cautious too!
Fog just chuckled, “Oh? And what did this ‘nice mare’ do when she met you?”
“... Shot me...” My response was quiet.
“You see? She’s crazy!”
“That’s hardly fair. You shot at me!”
“Girls. GIRLS!” Lilac’s voice drowned us both out, “If our new friend here thinks she can get this Scrap Heap to help us, we should at least let her try. If not, we’ll just have to find somewhere else to stay.”
Arsenal snickered in response, “Aw. You had to stop them? I was hoping he might make Aurora angry enough to actually try and kill him.” I hoped she didn’t really think I’d kill someone over a simple disagreement! “Maybe then he’d learn to keep his mouth shut.”
The wagon’s weight shifted as Arsenal leaped down from the back, trotting around in front of me, “Why don’t the three of us go in there and say hello? I’m sure she’s better company than some ponies.” I just groaned again as Arsenal began to remove my harness.
Fog cleared his throat, “We’ll wait here, then. Do try to come back in one piece. We don’t have the medical supplies to save your life again.” Arsenal pointedly ignored him.
Requiem leaped up onto my back as the last of the straps fell away, settling in between my still spread wings. I might have been able to suppress the urge to sunbathe, but I still wanted to soak up as much sun as I could. The soft warmth across my feathers was joyous.
A gentle breeze began to blow as the three of us entered the Junkyard. The soft squeaking of Scraps’ sign mixed with the myriad other small noises around us. Something about our approach to the shack which Scraps lived in felt wrong. A strange sense of peace and calmness.
“Where did all of this COME from!?” Ah, that was what it was. Relative silence, “There’s enough scrap here to outfit a small army!” Arsenal was staring at the piled heaps of junk around us. The jutting remains of broken Steel Ranger armor and scrapped robot parts mixed with sky carriages, refrigerators, ancient appliances and sheet metal in a collage of garbage seemingly without end.
I just shook my head, “Maybe you should ask Scraps when you meet her? I’m sure she’ll have a lot of questions for you, too.” I could think of a few as well, but now wasn’t the time to go prying into Arsenal’s past.
Scraps’ home was just as I’d left it. Constructed of a patchwork of salvaged metal. The multiple colors of corrosion and paint left on its components felt oddly appropriate for the mare which lived within. It wasn’t large, grand or beautiful, instead having a simple utilitarian enthusiasm to it. The care with which it had been constructed and maintained was clear even to my untrained eyes. It felt smaller standing outside than it was within, somehow.
Pressing on the door handle produced no results. Just a soft clattering and a refusal of the door to open. “That’s funny. It’s never been locked before.” Admittedly, I’d only ever had to open and close the door a few times. Usually Scraps had met me and let me in. But it was still strange. I could hear muffled voices inside, so I was fairly certain Scraps was awake. Why wouldn’t the door open?
A tap on the side of my head, followed by a short leg passing the side of my vision, drew my attention to a nearby sign. Requiem had spotted it before I had, painted onto part of the wall was ‘Deposit all weapons below. This means you!’ Just below it was a handle. I fought the urge to face-hoof again, somehow I seemed to miss all the most obvious things. I had to stop letting my mind wander off so much.
Pulling the handle opened a surprisingly spacious chute. Slowly I began unloading the weapons I was carrying into it. Minigun, hunting rifle, heavy revolver, broken shotgun, destroyed assault rifle, sawed off shotgun, light SMG, four grenades and a large knife. I wasn’t even certain where some of those weapons had come from. My thoughts strayed towards the destruction of the raiders, but only for a moment before I shoved it from my mind. No. Not thinking about it right now.
Finally all that was left was Tom. Slowly, carefully, I lowered the most beautiful missile launcher ever built into the chute. Part of me lamented having to part with it even briefly. Told me that there was something vital about it. Closing my eyes I let go of my magic, allowing the weapon to fall away. I had to speak to Scraps. To trust her that I’d get back what was mine.
Arsenal trotted up towards me while I was disarming. She let out a dismissive snort at the notice, “I am not handing over my only weapon to some unwashed muckdweller!” I had to suppress a laugh at her particular choice of words. If ever a pony could be described that way, it was Scraps.
A grin cracked my face despite my best efforts, “If you don’t want to meet her, you could always just wait here. I’m sure that all the killer robots will leave you alone just fine. There’s no way they would decide you were a threat when I’m not around.” Actually I had no idea whether they would or not. They had attacked me the moment I entered the junkyard, but I wasn’t exactly a normal pony.
A grimace passed over Arsenal’s face before she carefully deposited her magical energy rifle into the chute, “You’d better be right about her being trustworthy! That’s Enclave property! If I lose it the cost of replacement is coming out of my paychecks!” Paychecks? She was stranded in the wasteland, half starved, abused and locked up and her biggest concern is about her pay? For the second time in less than an hour I felt the intense desire to bury my face in my hooves.
The chute slammed closed. Again I pressed against the door’s latch, this time it opened easily. Time to meet Scraps, and hope she was in a good mood.
*** *** ***
“... You sure that’s al-” The ongoing conversation ended abruptly as I entered.
For a moment everything was silent. Two unfamiliar figures were inside Scraps’ shop. A dirt-brown earth pony with a darker brown mane and a large, heavily muscled griffin wearing black body armor. Both were now staring intently at me. Suddenly I felt very, very uncomfortable being right here. Was this how Requiem felt all the time?
The silence didn’t last. By reflex, the griffin reached for an empty holster at his side, his eyes going wide when his claw closed on nothing but open air. The earth pony let out a surprised shout, “ALICORN!” diving over the counter and tackling Scraps to the ground. Requiem squirmed her way up into my mane, making herself as invisible as she could manage for the moment.
With a screech the griffin leaped across the room towards me. Stuck in the door-frame, with Arsenal directly behind me, I did the only thing I could think of. A dark purple dome surrounded me as the griffin impacted the outside. Scrambling and clawing at it, cutting large grooves with his talons, in an attempt to reach me.
“Please stop...” my voice was barely audible over the commotion as Scraps wrestled with the other earth pony behind the counter. The sound of talons on my shield, not entirely unlike hooves on a chalkboard, screeched in the small room. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but right now it didn’t seem like I’d get out without it!
A loud groan came from behind me, “Will someone stop that racket!?” Arsenal wasn’t any more pleased by the outburst than I was. For a moment I considered backing out of the door, just running away. Part of me certainly thought that was the best answer, another part was concerned I might accidentally step on Arsenal if I couldn’t see her. I could teleport away, but that would just leave Arsenal and Requiem with no one between them and the angry griffin. Not an acceptable answer.
A blond hoof finally made it over the top of the counter. A moment later Scraps heaved herself up enough to be visible, “Will you kindly stop trying to murder my assistant!?” I did my best to give a friendly, reassuring smile. I’m pretty sure it was more of a disturbed grin, given the way the griffin stared at me as he backed away. “Thank you.” Scraps rummaged around under the counter before heaving the other pony out, “Now. Tumbleweed. You owe me fifteen caps.”
“I... What? I tried to save your life!” Tumbleweed’s answer made some sense to me. It wasn’t like he had any way of knowing I wasn’t the murderous sort. Didn’t make the part of me upset with being mistaken for a monster hurt any less, though.
Scraps silently put a hoof on his chin, turning his head across the counter. Until his gaze, and mine, landed upon a toppled Sparkle~Cola bottle, its contents having poured out across the counter and onto the floor, “You wasted my soda.” I couldn’t suppress a giggle at that, Scraps had her priorities. Tumbleweed groaned at that, before digging into one of his saddle bags for the caps.
I took the moment of peace to step inside the shop, doing my best to stay out of the way. Arsenal trotted in a moment later, surveying the area, before her gaze fell upon Scraps, “I didn’t expect it to be quite so... Literal.” She stared at the wasteland’s most filthy pony in disbelief. This time I couldn’t suppress a laugh. Nearly falling off my hooves as I finally broke down. Scraps just looked at me, then towards Arsenal, then back to me, saying nothing.
The sound of a throat clearing finally silenced my laughter. Tumbleweed spoke up again, “Now, about what we were discussing..?” giving a cautious glance towards me, “Not that I don’t trust your, ah, assistant, but I’d rather be on my way tonight. The winds of trade never stop blowing.”
Scraps waved a hoof in Tumbleweed’s direction, “You know the deal. Six hundred caps for the parts, five hundred for labor. Same as always.” she picked the almost empty bottle of Sparkle~Cola up, staring at the tiny bits of liquid left within a few long moments. The frown on her face and folded down ears were the only indications of how unhappy she was at the waste. Tipping back to drink the last few drops of it before tossing the bottle into a large bin filled with other empty bottles. What did she DO with all of them?
“Alright. At least I can count on you to be reliable.” Tumbleweed gave a friendly grin to Scraps, “I’ll go get the caps. You wait right here.” he trotted out the doorway. Where was he going to get the caps from? I hadn’t seen anything which looked out of place coming in. Then again I hadn’t really looked around very much, either.
Arsenal and the Griffin had taken to eyeing each other warily. Scraps had forced them both to disarm before entering, at least. But I did my best to stay between the two anyway, not wanting any kind of fight to break out here. The griffin at least seemed mostly under control, but Arsenal? She might whine him to death!
“So are you going to introduce me to your new friends?” Scraps was leaning on the counter, one hoof at her chin, “Pegasi are rather rare. Especially ones who still have their cutie marks. And the little one seems to have quite the curiosity. I wouldn’t open that if I were you.” Open what? I wasn’t opening anything. Then I spotted the bright red mane poking out near the large refrigerator behind the sales bench. When had Requiem gotten over there? And how had Scraps known where she was without looking away from me?
Arsenal beat me to the kick, as usual, “It’s very rude to ask a lady her name without giving one yourself. But I suppose I can indulge your uncultured ways,” I let out a groan, which Arsenal promptly ignored, waving a hoof at herself, “Arsenal. The one and only.” standing up straight and tall, and about as proud as a flightless pegasus could be.
Scraps just leaned on her hoof passively a long moment as she regarded Arsenal, “You certainly know how to find the most interesting friends, Aurora.” a grin spreading across her face, “With a name like that and your cutie mark you must be some kind of arcanotech expert, right? Maybe you can be my new assistant. My old one keeps breaking everything.” Hey! That wasn’t true! I hadn’t broken everything! Just... Most things.
A snort from Arsenal at that prospect, “As if I’d work for someone like you.” waving a hoof at Scraps, “So brutal as to carve up Steel Ranger armor just to make goggles. Hmph!” she turned her nose up and away at that.
Again a groan escaped my lips, Arsenal really was going to treat everypony she met like this, wasn’t she? Scraps just laughed at the response, her grin growing broader, “And just as arrogant as I’d expect from a cloudwalker.” she turned away, digging under the counter again a few moments before heaving the squirming, bucking mass of Requiem up, holding her at leg’s length to avoid being kicked, “And your other friend, here? She seems to be intent to search through everything I own.” setting Requiem down on the counter. The cloudy grey filly instantly rushed across the room to hide behind me, glaring at Scraps in irritation from being exposed.
“Silent Requiem. She’s... Shy.” Now that was an understatement if ever there was one, “She’s all that’s left from South-End Junction.” what else could I tell her? I didn’t even know who Requiem was beyond that. That thought filled me with sadness. What stories would she tell if she could?
The griffin guard responded to that before Scraps could, “A whole settlement just wiped out? That’s unusual. The town was pretty well defended, after all.” he looked up at me skeptically, “What happened to them?”
Shaking my head I answered the best I could, “Raiders from the ruins. Some group from a prison, I think. They won’t be bothering anypony else ever again.” I didn’t want to think about why, or what would have happened had I not done what I did.
Scraps’ grin had faded to a graven frown, as she listened to my answer, “I see.” she silenced the Griffin with a hoof wave, “If you’re sure that’s true, I believe you. I’m sure Tumbleweed will want to check it out anyway, so you’ll have plenty of time to confirm her story.”
“Check what out?” Tumbleweed had returned with three large bags loaded onto his flanks, trotting up to the counter to deposit all three, “Eleven hundred caps. Same price as usual. Are you sure you won’t give me a frequent buyer’s discount?”
Scraps began scooping the bags off the counter and depositing them somewhere below, “That is the frequent buyer’s discount. Usually I charge more for labor.” My own lack of knowledge about values in the wasteland was catching up to me, was eleven hundred caps a lot? I only had a few hundred to my name. Mostly those Requiem had found. “My assistant claims South-End Junction was wiped out by raiders. Must have been recent, this is the first I’ve heard about it.”
Tumbleweed’s eyebrows shot up, “Really?” turning his attention towards me again, “And you were there when it happened?” a stiff nod was the only answer I could manage, “Were there any survivors? They were one of the best trading stops on my route...”
I suppressed a groan, how many ponies out there in the wasteland had I let down? “Just one. Requiem.” looking down towards where Requiem was hiding amongst the waving mass of my tail, swallowing nervously. Did Tumbleweed know her too? Was I really the pony in her life who knew the least about her?
“Requiem?” Tumbleweed’s gaze followed mine to the mixture of grey and red amongst dark green and purple, the only sign she was there at all. Requiem backed away further, practically burying herself under the mass of my tail, “I... I see.” he went silent.
Had I said something wrong? I wasn’t sure. But before I could ask, Scraps broke in again, “This is just enough, Tumbleweed. Why don’t you go set up for the night in your usual spot. I’ll have it all finished for you before sunset. Assuming there’s no more unexpected interruptions.” Oh boy, did I have one of those.
Tumbleweed muttered something under his breath I didn’t catch, before calling to the guard, “Come on Giz, let’s leave the genius to her work.” for all his annoyance there was no sarcasm in his voice as he trotted out again, the griffin following after.
Arsenal stared at them as they left, whispering to me, “Did... Did he really pay in bottlecaps?” A nod was all I could give her, “Bottlecaps... Muckdwellers use bottlecaps as bits? This world really is crazy.”
Scraps cleared her throat, “Now. Aurora. You are aware you’re supposed to use guns to shoot your enemies, not club them to death, right?”
“Yes..?” That seemed like a silly question, of course you shot people with guns. They made lousy clubs.
A moment later the wasteland mechanic had dropped the broken, bent and cracked remains of an assault rifle onto the counter-top, “Would you care to explain what happened to this, then?”
Ouch, “I... Beat a pony to death with it?” A sheepish grin passed my face, heat radiating from my cheeks in a blush. “B-but the gun stopped working before I did!”
An irritated frown crossed Scraps’ face, “That would be because you bent the barrel and jammed a round in it.” she let out a sigh, rubbing her temple, “Unpack your things.”
“What? Why?” That was definitely the strangest request she’d made of me so far.
“Because in the time I’ve known you you’ve managed to break a PipBuck, scrap one of my guard robots, destroy at least three firearms and somehow managed to find THIS.” she heaved Tom up from under the counter, “A work of arcanotech and mechanical genius. As much art as weapon.” she ran a hoof along the pristine silver plating of the barrel, somehow managing not to leave any dirt on it, “Given the way you treat your things, I want to know what else you have.” she stood and trotted over to the fridge, pulling it open briefly to retrieve another Sparkle~Cola.
Arsenal just stared at me in disbelief at the mention of broken PipBucks. It wasn’t like I did it on purpose! I didn’t even remember how it happened! But I wasn’t going to argue with Scraps, beginning to unload everything from my saddlebags onto the counter. Several minutes later there was a wide collection of random junk sitting before Scraps, who was going over each piece slowly.
“Junk. Junk. A signed photograph of Rainbow Dash? Where in the world did you find that?” I opened my mouth to answer her, only for her to continue before I could, “A book? Planning to start a library?” she paused at the damaged tin from the radio station, “Mint-als. Haven’t seen any of those in a while. More junk. What’s this?” she poked at the small bundle tied up in a kerchief.
“That’s Requiem’s. Not for sale.” Scraps just continued on without further comment.
“Junk. Coffee Mug, could use a new one of those. The last one exploded. Here’s some advice, never attempt to heat Sparkle~Cola past the boiling point.” Somehow I didn’t want to know what would happen, “More junk. Hm?” she paused as she reached the audio recording, “A data tape?” picking it up and turning it over in her hooves, “Still intact and functional. I’ll give you a hundred caps for it.”
Part of me protested the idea of selling that tape. That it should be important to me. But I’d already heard what was on it, and it wasn’t a message to me or from me. At least I was pretty sure it wasn’t, “I... Guess that’s alright?”
Scraps dropped the recording into a bin behind the counter, coming back up a moment later with a stack of caps, “Here. If you find any more data tapes, bring them back here. I can always use more storage media. That PipBuck of yours should make copies of them anyway.” I levitated the pile of caps back into my bags.
Arsenal cleared her throat and poked my flank, “Don’t you think it’s about time you ask her?”
“Ask me what?” Scraps’ question echoed my thoughts perfect.
Arsenal groaned and rolled her eyes, “The thing you came all the way back here to talk to her about! Ugh. I swear, you’re worse than the filly is. At least she seems to be reasonably collected!”
What I came here to... Oh! Oh, right! This time I actually did bury my face in one of my hooves, “Scraps? Can you come outside for a few minutes? There’s something I want you to see...”
I stood up and headed towards the door before she even answered. Requiem quickly scrambling up on my back to resume hiding from Scraps. The earth pony followed somewhere behind me, “What could be so important out here? There’s nothing new in the yard...”
I lead her down the path towards the edge of the yard. Until she could clearly see the collected group of Applejack’s Rangers milling about outside the yard. Fog was berating one of the armored ponies about something, as Lilac looked on in mixed amusement. “Scraps. These are my friends. They need a place to stay. Can they move into the Junkyard?”
Scraps’ jaw nearly hit the ground at those words. I wish I had had a camera. The expression of total disbelief on the elderly mare’s face would have been a treasure to last a lifetime.
*** *** ***
“Are you crazy!?” I opened my mouth to answer, only to be suddenly silenced by Scraps’ hoof. My stomach lurched instantly, a foul, disgusting taste overpowering the remaining sweetness of breakfast this morning. “They can’t stay here!”
Fighting back tears, I raised a leg to force Scraps’ hoof from my mouth. It took all of my concentration not to vomit, instead sticking out my tongue at the most horrid taste in the entire wasteland. Even the rotting flesh of the radio station had been less unpleasant than that! Slowly, once my stomach stopped trying to flee my body, I managed to speak again, “Why... Not?”
Scraps didn’t seem to have noticed my discomfort, instead beginning to pace back and forth across the small workroom. It was just the two of us in here, she insisted on speaking with me about this alone. “Well, for one thing I don’t have the supplies to keep that many ponies healthy! There’s no good source of water anywhere in the Junkyard.”
That was a pretty good point, the Applejack’s Rangers only had enough supplies for about two weeks on their own. But where would they be able to go in two weeks? I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to leave them out in the cold either. “So... If I find a source of water, they can stay, right?”
The blond and blue mare paused in her pacing, “I... What?” she stomped her hooves in irritation, “I... But... You... They... They can’t!” This was strange. Scraps had openly offered the chance for me to stay here. Even offered the chance for Arsenal to remain as her assistant. The idea that she’d reject some ponies without reason was just bizarre.
“Why not?” It was a simple enough question. One which Scraps seemed to be intent on dancing around rather than answering.
Gritting her teeth, Scraps stomped her hooves again, “You... They... You... ARGH! Fine! If you can find a good source of water, I’ll consider it. If you can convince them to respect my rules.” she slumped noticeably against her workbench, leaning her forehooves across it, “But they have to build their own place to stay.” raising a hoof to wave at me, “You go talk to them. I’m not having some over-armed thugs take over my home!”
Was that really all it was? Scraps was afraid of the Applejack’s Rangers stealing her home out from under her? She faced up to me without worry before, but then I had been seriously injured and sedated at the time. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Scraps actually fight anything. Not that much of anything came here anyway.
But, those terms seemed fair enough to me. I just had to hope they were fair enough for Frozen Fog to accept them. Maybe Lilac could convince him even if I couldn’t. “Alright. I’ll go talk to them.” plodding back through the waiting room and outside. Requiem squirmed away from Arsenal and rushed back to my side the moment I was out into the storefront. She was, if anything, more clingy today than normal. Maybe seeing Lilac that way had made her more cautious than before. I hoped not, she deserved a peaceful and positive life.
Arsenal trotted out behind me, silent for once. I was surprised she hadn’t complained about the idea of staying here in the junkyard. It seemed so odd, given how much she had griped about dirt before. Maybe it was just her love of machines getting the better of her? For as much as she talked, she hadn’t really said much about herself.
Outside things had changed just a bit. After Scraps dragged me back to her workshop the Applejack’s Rangers had continued their way into the yard. They were milling about near the three wagons, loaded down with medical technology and food supplies. Lilac was the first to react to my presence, turning her chair towards me with a hopeful smile, “So? What did she say? Can we stay?”
“Yes.” There was a rousing round of cheering and hoof stomps from the ponies both in and out of armor, “Provisionally.” That silenced things remarkably quickly. My heart sank slightly, the conditions weren’t hard. But they were conditions. “You’ll have to abide by her rules. That means no bringing weapons into her shop, no taking anything from the junkyard without payment, and no wandering into the areas she has marked off.” There was some quiet muttering between the ponies in armor at that, “You’ll also have to build your own housing.” That at least didn’t seem to be making things any more unacceptable than before, “And...” my voice sank to almost a whisper, “I’ll have to find a place to get fresh water.” That would be the real trick.
Frozen Fog tapped his chin with a hoof, before nodding, “We have supplies enough for three weeks with us. If you can find a source of water within a week, we’ll stay. Otherwise we move on to find somewhere else to settle.” The others mumbled quietly to one another, before slowly going silent. A soft sigh escaped my lips, one I hadn’t realized I was holding, at Fog’s decision to stay. Now all I had to do was find a source of water and things would be well under way.
“So where are you going to start looking?” Lilac’s question cut to the heart of the matter, in an almost painful way, “We were depending on the filtration spells in the hospital, supplemented with rain water, before. But out here, I doubt we could repeat that.”
Numbness spread over my heart and mind, at the magnitude of what I was undertaking. These ponies were depending on me for their livelihood, I had promised I would help however I could. But right now I wasn’t sure how I could help. My mouth opened autonomously to answer, but no words came.
Hooves clattered against sheet metal as Tumbleweed approached our impromptu gathering, “Hope I’m not interrupting.” His voice shocked me from my momentary unthinking state, “I couldn’t help but overhear you were looking for places to get water.” ‘Couldn’t help but overhear’? The Junkyard was a lot of things, but silent wasn’t one of them. Even I could tell he’d been eavesdropping on us. “Scraps is one of the best stops on my trading route. Not many get a chance to talk to her, and what she sells is top quality. So I owe her a lot over the years. Without her, I might not have joined up with Pasture Passages at all!”
“Just get to the point.” Arsenal’s typically over elaborate speech was punctual and simple this time. Surprising, to say the least. “If you have something you want to tell us, just spit it out.”
“Fine, fine. The way I see it you’ve got three real options to get water in this place.” the earth-colored pony tapped his hooves on the metal beneath us, “First, you set up something to gather the rain water. Something big, cover most of the yard, hope you get enough rainfall for everyone.”
Lilac cut in on that idea, “Unreliable. Even before the cloud cover was removed we couldn’t rely purely on that.” shaking her head, “No way we’d get enough rain now.” I had to agree with her. The idea of collecting purely rainwater was likely impossible in an area like this.
Tumbleweed nodded his agreement with Lilac, “Doubt it’d do you well. Too random. But worth mentioning. Second would be to head to Trotonto, meet with Deep Blue. Make a deal with Musinc to buy water. Problem is, he’d charge you a hoof and a tail for enough water to support an entire settlement. Charge you more if he has to do the shipping, too.” he tapped his chin with a forehoof, “He’s got a monopoly on water for the area. So he gets to charge whatever he wants, more or less. It’s reliable, but expensive.”
Great, that wouldn’t be good at all. “No way Scraps would be willing to pay to support you all.” My own input was about as down as everypony else’s, “What’s the third idea?”
That made the trader uncomfortable as he rubbed behind one of his ears with a hoof, “Well... The third one’s a long shot. There’s an old Stable, about two days travel from here, where you might be able to get ahold of the materials you need to make your own water.”
“An open Stable? That hasn’t been stripped by scavengers?” Frozen Fog’s voice was lined with disbelief, “You must be joking.”
“See. This is why it’s a long shot.” Tumbleweed tapped his hoof on the metal floor, “A lot of traders talk about where the Stable is. Say they’ve seen it. But I’ve never heard of anypony who went into the Stable ever coming out. Some who’ve been there say you can see shapes moving down inside. That it’s haunted, and the ghosts of the ponies who lived there will attack anyone who trespasses.”
A groan from Arsenal drew my attention, “Haunted? Do you muckdwellers really believe in that kind of thing? It’s probably just old and has some kind of local wildlife living in it.” she waved the idea off with a hoof, “Ghosts are just a silly story.” Yes, like zombies. Part of me wanted to point out how absurd it was to decline the idea something existed just because it didn’t fit her world-view. Another part of me insisted just like she did that ghosts didn’t exist.
A snort from Tumbleweed, “If you don’t want to know where the Stable is, just say so.”
Quickly I answered, “No, no. Anything is better than nothing.” giving a nervous smile. Whatever was in there, he was right that it was our best hope for finding a source of water, “Even if it’s a little dangerous.”
“Lemme see your PipBuck. I can show you where the place is on your map.” I raised my hoof without really thinking about it, showing him the automap which had already filled out with the beginnings of the area. A few moments later I had two new markers on it, “That one’s for Manestreet. There used to be a town around there, some good ponies still live in the surviving shops. You should be able to find somewhere safe to stay on your way towards the Stable there. Just tell them Tumbleweed sent you. The other’s for the Stable itself. It’s a long walk, but shouldn’t be too dangerous if you stick to the roads.”
Well, it was a start. Leaving the group, I trotted back across the Junkyard towards Scraps’ shack. She still had all my weapons. While traveling unarmed wasn’t unthinkable, part of me insisted that it was incredibly stupid when alternatives existed.
*** *** ***
Scraps was working on something by the time I returned to her workshop. As I sat down I could feel Requiem leap from my back, taking up a position behind and beside me. She seemed somewhat more at-ease than I had expected with Scraps. Especially after the way she was treated earlier.
“What did you do with my weapons?” It was a simple enough question. I couldn’t find them anywhere in the waiting room. Even Requiem hadn’t been able to find them again.
Scraps pointed towards one of the boxes in a corner with a hoof, “They’re in there. The functional ones, at least.” The large metal footlocker was tucked into a corner and half-buried under a pile of random scrap metal. What did she use all this stuff for, anyway?
A few moments of struggle to get the footlocker loose, another moment to undo the latches and I was in. The box was stuffed with weaponry. The minigun was missing, but that wasn’t too surprising, my PipBuck was throwing up warnings about it well before the end of our fight in the sewers. More surprisingly, Tom was missing.
Whirling on my hooves I stormed up towards Scraps, “What did you do with Tom?”
“Tom?” Scraps raised her head from whatever it was she was working on, eyes hidden behind her thick black goggles like always, “You mean that missile launcher you brought in with you?” Well, at least she wasn’t going to try and deny she had it.
“Yes. That Tom. What happened to him?” I resisted gritting my teeth, fighting down the part of me which wanted to grab Scraps and shake her until he fell out of her.
Scraps’ face twisted into a frown, “You’re not seriously going to take that masterpiece with you, are you? I’ve seen what you do to weapons.” she turned her head pointedly towards the wrecked remains of an assault rifle, “Just leave Tom with me, it’ll be safe here.”
My mind began to seethe at the thought of leaving Tom behind. I couldn’t place why, but there was no way I was leaving that gift from the past behind. Without thinking I shoved my muzzle in close enough to be almost nose to nose with Scraps, close enough to see my dark red, slitted eyes reflected back at me, “What did you do with Tom?”
Rearing backwards, Scraps clopped her hooves back and forth against the edge of the table, “Mmmmf. Fine. If it really means that much to you, I’ll go get it.” she leaped from her chair, trotting over towards one of the large lockers in the corner, “I swear, you’re like the filly I never had. Always so insistent and not willing to take ‘no’ for an answer.” she pulled the locker open and leaned into it, beginning to search through the contents, “No. No. Where did I get that? No. I thought I sold that. A waffle iron? Why is there a waffle iron in here?”
Part of me was insulted by the idea that I acted particularly spoiled. But a much larger part of me was too pleased with getting my way and getting back something which mattered to care. The door creaked quietly as Scraps finally came back up with Tom in her hooves, “Ah, here we are!” In a few moments she had closed the locker again and returned to the work bench, carefully setting Tom down on it, “Now, you’d better take good care of this! If you break it, I’m not giving it back again, understand?” Break Tom? Somehow that idea was unacceptably horrible to me. There was no way I could break something as perfect as Tom. I just nodded my head and levitated my prize from the table, gently returning him to my side.
“I do hope you weren’t planning to leave without me.” A familiar voice from the doorway, Arsenal standing just inside the workshop, “I’d hate to think I had spent so much effort getting this,” she nudged a mass of brown and red cloth by her hooves, “Just for it to go to waste!”
Truthfully I hadn’t expected Arsenal would want to come with me. Not after how she had reacted to the sewers. “Why would-?”
“Do you know how to shut down and remove a water talisman without damaging it?” Okay, that was a good point, “I didn’t think so.” the dark red pegasus grabbed the mass of cloth in her mouth and trotted up to Scraps’ work bench, dropping it on the edge, “Now, Scraps dear, I don’t suppose I could trouble you to armor this for me. Could I?” That was surprising, Arsenal actually asking another pony to do something for her? Without insults?
A groan passed Scraps’ mouth at the prospect, “I’m never going to get anything done again, am I?” She stared at the mass of cloth, “Where did you get Steel Ranger scribe robes, anyway? They don’t usually part with something like that...”
Arsenal reached up with a hoof to briefly puff her own mane, eyes closed and muzzle high, “You might not be used to it. But some of us understand how to be a proper lady.”
Something about the way Arsenal said those words wrenched at my heart, only for some part of me to throw forth the image of Arsenal trying to seduce Frozen Fog. I couldn’t suppress a laugh at the prospect, “Fog gave it to you to get you to go away, didn’t he?”
The change in Arsenal’s look was instant, her pride fading into an irritated slump, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Even Scraps couldn’t suppress a laugh at that reaction.
“Oh, there’s no need to be so shy about it. I’m certain a proper lady would be more than happy to get gifts from their coltfriend.” Scraps was already gathering up the robe and inspecting it, “Yes, I think I know what I can do with this. It won’t take long.” hauling the robe over to the center of her work bench, “Shoo, shoo. I’ll bring it out to you when it’s done.” she waved the three of us out of her work area, “No crowding my work space!”
By the time the three of us made it back into the other room Arsenal was slumping low against the ground. Even Requiem was aware of how unhappy she was, it seemed, as the filly trotted up to her side to give a gentle nuzzle to the pegasus’ leg. I considered asking Arsenal what was wrong, but given her actions in the past I doubted it would do any good.
It wasn’t long before Scraps forced the door open, brown and red robe in her mouth. A few moments later, Arsenal was fully clothed. The robe didn’t have any openings to allow her wings out, and while wearing it she could have easily passed for an earth pony. The dark red material was offset by metal plates, the whole assembly worn over a brown under-coat.
For a moment the room was relatively silent, before Arsenal rubbed at her chest with a hoof, “Ugh. Itchy. But... It’ll do.” she looked back over her torso, “Covering my wings feels so constricting.”
Scraps cut in on that point, “A lot of ponies down here still don’t trust pegasi. Guess that’s what happens when you start a war.” her voice was flat and level, without a hint of amusement or mockery, “Better if you not show off.”
The slump from before returned, and more. Even I understood that Scraps was right. Truthfully if there were any way I could disguise what I was, I would gladly do so. Not getting shot at upon entering a settlement would be a wonderfully refreshing change of pace.
“I guess it’s time we set out.” It was true, we had everything we needed now. Stepping towards the door, I paused, the lingering taste in the back of my mouth a reminder, “And when we get back, I’m giving you a bath.” shoving the door open I left before Scraps had a chance to answer me.
The three of us trotted down through the junkyard. The Applejack’s Rangers had already begun working on constructing a place to stay. Hauling sheet metal across the yard, to begin setting up a temporary house until they could make something more permanent. The walk across the yard was long and slow, as my mind churned with what I was about to do.
Finally we came within sight of the edge of the junkyard. Beside me I could feel Requiem’s presence, barely a hoof’s breadth away from me. I dropped a hoof directly in her path, forcing her to stop moving, “Requiem.” my heart sank, as I spoke words which cut me inside, “I want you to stay here.” my veins ran cold, “It’s safe here.” frigid feelings ran up my spine with each word, “There’s food and will be water.” my voice felt hoarse and painful to utter another word, “Scraps can look after you.” my heart felt like somepony was using it for bucking practice.
Silence filled the area around us. No snark from Arsenal, no sound from Requiem, only the fear she might hate me for my choice. Requiem sank to the ground. I could barely see her out of the edge of my vision. Gradually she turned, very slowly beginning to walk away from me back towards the center of the yard.
Slowly I began to walk away again. My legs ached under me, my head pounded. The chorus raged, protested and made unreasonable demands. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to throw those thoughts away, no matter how many times they returned. This was the right thing to do. This was for her benefit. It was what was best for her. So why, why did it hurt so much?
*** *** ***
The day was long and quiet. Arsenal protested occasionally about her discomfort, but I paid little attention. My thoughts kept drifting back towards Requiem as we walked. It was strange, as quiet and unobserved as she was most of the time her absence still ground against the edges of perception. The odd lack of her weight on my back, the lack of concern about where I put my hooves.
Parts of me were glad she wasn’t there, a liberating feeling of not having to worry after her. Most of me protested that I had left her alone, told me to turn around, to run back to the yard. To apologize, to do better for her. For hours those parts of my mind chased each other in silence, my feelings sinking and rising in a rhythmic beat.
The warmth of the sun against my coat and feathers was a distant comfort. A steadying feeling from far away, which said I had made the right choice. That I had given her the chance she deserved. That voice was quiet and far away, almost drowned entirely by my doubts. As the sun began to set, the sky growing dark as distant twinkling lights returned to the heavens, that warmth faded from me and the voice died with it.
We made a small camp, not far from the broken remains of the road we were following. As we walked I had barely seen the world around me. Drifting across the broken pavement in my turmoil without concern. Now that we were stopped it was little better. The world beyond the light cast by our campfire was dull and dim, pained and distant.
Arsenal was talking about something, but I wasn’t listening. She had been for most of the day, something about the state of the world, complaints about her discomfort. Parts of me wanted her to be silent, but more of me was comforted by the voice. Even if she was annoying at times, the thought of traveling alone was crushing. Something about going back to that way of life was beyond me.
Cold, hard rocks beneath me. Dark, empty skies above. The warmth of the firelight was all that remained to give me comfort. I stared into that fire, watching it dance and lick the air, the wood within gradually falling apart. Sparks twirled and burned in the air, leaving trails in my vision. My mind was empty, consumed purely by my own complaints. I lost all track of time, until Arsenal’s voice died from nearby. She had gone to sleep.
Something about all this felt terribly wrong. Digging the ancient book from my bags I set it down, staring at the closed cover. On any other night I would open it, read a story, and lose myself to the legends of the past. Let those stories carry me away, comfort the part of me which remembered them. Tonight, for the first time since I found it, I didn’t want to read. It felt wrong to read a story without Requiem to hear it.
My heart clenched at that thought. Slowly sinking to the ground with the book in my hooves. Desperate for something, anything, to distract me from the conflict in my mind I began to search through my PipBuck. Radio stations. Only two of them it seemed, desperate for something to listen to I flicked one on at random. Soft, smooth jazz filled my ears. Quiet, sad and beautiful. The music mixed with a soft static hum, white noise to wash away the remnants of thought from my mind.
As I lay, drifting on the edges of sleep, the music faded. A deep, smooth voice echoed in my ears. “Hello out there Wasteland. Tonight’s broadcast goes out to all those lost souls who have left someone behind. Here’s a little something from a Wasteland Heroine, reminding you that maybe tomorrow will be a better day.” Lost souls who had left someone behind? Part of me wondered if someone was spying on me, but that seemed completely absurd. There was no way a radio station could be broadcasting just to me.
Another voice, this one distinctly feminine, rose towards the surface, “You’re listening to the adventures of me, Argyle Stockings, and my stalwart ghoul mareservant Xyra! Today’s episode: Big Trouble in Baltimare!” I wasn’t paying much attention to the voice in my ear, slowly allowing my mind to drift away. Falling into darkness.
*** *** ***
The vast shadows of billboards darkened the horizon long before we reached Manestreet. Shattered pavement and broken highways surrounded this tiny piece of civilization. The road we walked jutted and twisted beneath our hooves, littered with the broken remains of carriages from long ago. There were no skeletons here. Maybe the inhabitants of Manestreet had cleaned them away.
As we approached the town the billboards came fully into view. Two were the same posters I had already seen. One a vast version of the recruitment poster from the Ministry of Peace hospital, the other the same advertisement for the Ministry of Technology. The surfaces of the billboards were cracked, stained with age and weather. It felt like a miracle that they were still standing at all.
The third was one I hadn’t seen before, standing high up near the broken remains of a highway. The image of a grey pegasus with a blond mane drinking from a bottle of rainbow-colored liquid covered much of the surface. Her mane stood out at odd angles and tiny electrical bolts had been drawn around her. Even the way her eyes looked off in two different directions suited the image. ‘Try new Sparkle~Cola Rainbow Crash. Made with REAL Zap Apples! A charge in every bottle!’ Something about the image stirred distant, comforting feelings.
Slowly we continued onwards, Arsenal surprisingly quiet today. Perhaps the horror of what had happened to the ponies who were once on this road was sinking in. Or maybe she was finally going hoarse from all her talking. Whatever the case, small miracles were always welcome. As I watched her, she paused to rub her hoof against her chest again, scratching at the itches from her new armor. It made me wonder if those black carapaces I had seen pegasi in before were somehow more comfortable.
The terrain surrounding us transformed abruptly. The outskirts of what had once been a town. Perhaps not as grand as the city where the hospital or Central Junction were built, but a town. Shattered remains of houses, long ago collapsed from age and damage, stretched out around us. In the distance a great shape jutted up towards the heavens, glinting in the late morning sunlight. The town of Manestreet, built amongst the collapsed ruins of the old world.
Great metal towers jutted from the tops of ancient buildings. Joining together far above the town. Salvaged billboards and dismantled chariots mixed colors with rusted metal. The whole construction was enormous, like some great roof built onto the world. Protection from the elements, and perhaps more.
How had they built something like that? And why? The prospect of some threat from the sky so great that they felt the need to armor their entire town was horrifying. But my mind couldn’t think of any other reason they would have done so. Maybe I could ask someone in town?
Come to think of it, where were those in town? There was no movement amongst the ruins that I could see. Were they hiding from my approach? That seemed unlikely, to me. So far most ponies had been more willing to threaten me than run from me. Parts of my mind began to warn me away from the town, told me to turn and run. Told me that being anywhere other than here was the best idea.
Still, my curiosity got the better of me and I pressed onwards. Passing the outer edges of the vast construct. Shade against the sun covered the entire interior in darkness. Shafts of light falling from far above to light a central square. A podium had once sat there, now fallen to the side, cracked and broken. Scattered bottles and cans, some of them still half-full, were spread across the large area of open pavement. There were no bodies nor signs of life.
As I approached the center of the town a distant, sorrowful moan ran through the air. At first I thought I was only imagining it, until Arsenal spoke up, “Did you hear that?” I just nodded slowly, a chill running up my spine, “What was that? You don’t suppose this place is actually haunted or something, do you?” Haunted? Part of me insisted that was absurd, after all ghosts weren’t real. Another part of me told me that I should be careful anyway. Even if ghosts weren’t real, there was plenty of unknown things out here in the wasteland.
“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer, but not the one which Arsenal wanted to hear as she moved closer by my side. Turning in place, the whole town looked strangely intact. Part of me insisted that that ruled out a raider attack. There was no signs of looting or damage to the town itself. It was like everypony here had just vanished into thin air.
A quick glance to my EFS showed hostile markers all around us. Was this some kind of trap? A quick scan of the area again still didn’t show me any signs of anything alive nearby. Cautiously I levitated the sawed off shotgun from my saddle bags, purple shield shimmering into existence around me, “Come on Arsenal... There’s something very wrong here.” trotting towards one of the nearby buildings.
“You can’t be serious! This place is full of who knows what. And there’s no ponies here. We should just move onwards.” Arsenal’s advice wasn’t completely unfounded. Parts of me certainly agreed with her. But this place was... Wrong. I couldn’t just walk away from that now.
I wanted to know what had happened here, even if parts of me insisted it was a stupid and terrible idea. This place had had ponies living in it not long ago. Ponies shouldn’t just disappear into thin air! There should be skeletons, corpses, damage, ammunition. Something had to be left behind to tell me what happened here! A low, sorrowful moan passed through the whole town again, so deep and long that it vibrated in my bones. Another chill ran down my spine as I grabbed the door of a nearby building with my magic and shoved it open.
*** *** ***
The third building opened with a creak. The first two had been empty houses, still furnished without any sign of destruction. It was bizarre, there was no sign of anypony living here, but at the same time no sign of what had killed them. My EFS was still filled with red, every building seemed to contain more blips. Yet there was still no obvious movement. I hadn’t seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.
A low moaning howl filled the town again. Chills ran up my spine. What was making that noise? There wasn’t anything here! Slowly I pushed onwards into the building, the dark purple light of my shield contrasting against the pale yellow filling the room. The room was filled with tables, some overturned but most upright. Scattered bottles littered the floor, many sitting in pools of their own contents.
Slowly I pushed my way through the room. Red markers swam around me, but still no sign of anything actually hostile. Sawed off shotgun floating not far beyond my shield, Arsenal practically pressed against it on the other side, “Can we please leave? This place is dead.” Parts of me agreed with her. This place was definitely dead. But more of me wanted to know why.
The rear of the room was dominated by a massive counter, a door behind it leading somewhere further inside. Climbing up over the bar I answered Arsenal as simply as I could, “I just want to know what happened here. Towns aren’t supposed to just disappear like this.” At least, most of me was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to.
The creak of the the swing door on the side of the bar denoted Arsenal following me, “In a world like this? Are you sure?” Well, I was mostly sure. I’d seen raiders destroy a town before, but they hadn’t left the place nearly this clean.
Shoving the rear door open, my vision was filled with racks of bottles and boxes. Food and drink, matching with the main room. This had once been an eatery, the massive stacks of preserved foods and bottled drinks were their stock. But still no sign of anypony alive.
The moment I was through the door Arsenal followed me. She didn’t even hesitate to begin grabbing things off the shelves and stuffing them in her bags. For a moment I watched her in disbelief, “What are you doing?” I’d seen her willing to scavenge food from others before, but at the time she was sick and starved. While she still might not be in the best physical condition at the moment, she certainly wasn’t short on food.
My winged companion didn’t even look up from the shelves, “Making sure I have enough to eat. I am not going to eat whatever you can scavenge for us.” I had to admit the idea of eating more of the wonderful confections Arsenal had picked for me in the hospital was alluring. Even just watching her stuff them in her bags made me long for that feeling. The warm, invigorating weight in my stomach, the wonderful tingle in my mouth. Especially after the horrid experience yesterday with Scraps’ hooves. Maybe if I just took one bite.
*CRASH!*
The sound of glass on hard wood filled the room, followed by a dull rolling. A bottle, filled with brilliant rainbow-colored liquid rolled across the floor, clinking to a halt on the outside of my shield. ‘Sparkle~Cola Rainbow Crash!’ was written in large friendly letters across the outside. I levitated it off the ground, wondering where it had come from. A brief glance to Arsenal told me she hadn’t dropped it. That meant someone, or something, else was in here.
Without thinking I tucked the bottle into one of my saddle bags. My heart raced as I rushed across the room. A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, something darting between shelves. Two more bottles scattered onto the floor, before it rushed towards the doorway.
In an instant I was off after it, smashing into one of the shelves as I rushed towards the door, sending dozens of bottles crashing down to shatter all over the storage room. Arsenal let out a surprised yelp at my sudden outburst, “You’re wasting all the food!” that was what she was worried about right now?
The flash of motion stayed away from my vision with remarkable skill. In a moment it had doubled back, rushing up a nearby staircase. My hooves thundered over the counter top and across the room, smashing one of the bottles on the floor to pieces as I passed. It barely even registered upon me, except that my hoof was suddenly sticky and uncomfortable.
Up the stairs, across the hallway. The motion squirmed through a small gap near the bottom of a doorway near the end of the hall. Now was the chance to slow down, my heart beating painfully fast as I approached where it had vanished. My sawed off shotgun floated freely at my side. A quick shove against the door handle demonstrated that it was locked. Irritating, but in a building like this hardly a massive impediment.
*SMASH!*
The sound of splintering wood filled the hallway as I bucked the door with all my might. It swung freely on its hinges. Well, what was left of it did, in any case. Half the door was reduced to splinters as I took a slow step inside. The room was small, a bedroom, barely large enough to contain the mattress and dresser which had belonged to its inhabitants.
Red light flickered on my EFS as I stepped through the door. This time the figure had nowhere left to run. Standing directly in front of me was a filly, cloudy grey coat and shockingly red mane. My mind reeled in confusion, was I seeing things? She turned to one side just slightly and I caught sight of her cutie mark. An empty musical scale.
Requiem! But what was she doing here? Thoughts seethed in confused waves, prospects of fear that she had run off, concern for how long she had been following us. I wanted to sweep her up and carry her away from this awful place. Whatever remaining curiosity I had swiftly replaced with worries for her safety.
Worries which was not unfounded. Moments after I had caught sight of her something else drew my attention. A bizarre mass of red lights which seemed to move of their own accord scuttled across the room. The way it moved was alive, stalking closer to Requiem. The red marker on my EFS moved with it. My heart beat faster and faster, my targeting spell wouldn’t recognize it! “Requiem! RUN!” I dropped my shield, clearing the doorway.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*
Without a thought I unloaded both barrels of my shotgun into the strange thing. A mournful, pained hissing howl filled the room. Requiem took off between my legs without stopping. Whatever that thing was kept moving towards us, scuttling along the ground as I threw my shield up again and quickly backed out of the door. Scrambling with ammo for the sawed off shotgun.
What was that thing!? A ghost? Some kind of monster I had never seen before. It scuttled out of the room as my heart seemed to be taking three beats at a time. For the second time I unloaded both barrels into it. This time it hissed and clattered, skidding backwards slightly as the red lights disappeared. Without those it was like the creature wasn’t there at all. The marker on my EFS went dark.
My heart raced, breaths coming quick and ragged. I hadn’t expected anything like that! My PipBuck didn’t even seem to be able to target them. Were it not for my EFS I wouldn’t have any idea if the creature were even dead! Was that what had killed the ponies here?
Requiem pressed herself tight against my rear legs, clinging to me. Whatever that had been had left her just as terrified as I was it seemed. But it was dead now. One less red marker. But I’d seen dozens of them earlier! This entire town was infested. That meant-
*Bzzzark!*Bzzzark!*Bzzzark!*Bzzzark!*
The distinctive fizzling crack of Arsenal’s weapon filled the building. Oh no. The one here had started moving when Requiem was alone, and I’d run off without Arsenal! My heart beat frantically again as I turned in the hallway, rushing back downstairs. No, no, no! I had to be fast enough.
A scant moment later I burst through the door into the supply room. Arsenal stood over a pile of pink ash, breathing heavily. Blood trickled from one of her rear legs. She was swaying on her hooves just slightly, “What... Was... THAT!?” her own breathing just as hard as mine.
“I don’t know. We need to get out of here! Come on!” Running seemed like a great plan right now. Whatever was wrong with this place could sort itself out. I wasn’t keeping Requiem here longer than we had to.
Arsenal struggled on her feet, backing up and turning to follow me. But she was slow, her leg was limp, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to run. Feels like my veins are on fire.” Augh. Everything which could go wrong was all at once! Why was it never the little things which went wrong, only the big ones?
The red markers on my EFS had started moving again. They must have known we were aware of them now. The weapon discharges probably disturbed more. Now was definitely not the time to be trying to carry an injured friend out of town!
“A town like this has to have had a medical pony,” Well, I had to hope it did anyway, “They might have supplies to help.” Parts of me were not confident in that idea. This place was still crawling with horrible invisible things. Running across town searching for something to help Arsenal might well get us all killed, but it was the only chance we had, “We’ll have to keep searching. Stay close. Maybe they won’t attack us if we’re all together.” They hadn’t when Arsenal and I had been together, after all.
A weak nod from Arsenal. The three of us slowly returning across the eatery. There weren’t any more of those things in here, at least. But there were others. Lots and lots of others. Hiding in the buildings, and who knew where else, out there. I checked my shotgun, it wasn’t in bad condition, but my panic had done more damage to it than I would have liked. Stupid tiny guns, nopony seemed to build anything durable enough for me to use right!
A deep breath and a heave forced the door open. There were still a lot of buildings to search. I had to hope one of them would have what we needed. Before Arsenal got any worse.
*** *** ***
The low, mournful sound which seemed to permeate every inch of the town echoed in the distance. A horrible feeling of dread ran through my veins. My nerves felt like lightning, jumping at every shadow, as we crossed the main plaza. There was a small, squat building on the far side of the town which somepony had spray painted the cross and butterfly of the Ministry of Peace on.
Around me I could hear clicking and movement. But there was no visible signs of it. The thing which had attacked Requiem glowed with its own light. Did all of them do that? Could they suppress it? The lights had just suddenly appeared in the room. Were they able to move through solid objects? No, that seemed unlikely, my shotgun had killed the thing just fine after all.
“Ooogh.” Arsenal had given up on trying to talk in favor of making the occasional pained grunt. Her rear leg was slacking badly now. Concern that she might pass out before we could help raged in my mind. Requiem hung close at my side, not at all eager to get attacked again. At least she didn’t seem to be bothered by the horrific sounds of this place.
The door creaked as it opened. The building’s interior not far removed from the exterior. Worn down, pre-war construction. Pale yellow light from ancient fixtures filled the rooms within. Thankfully the markings were right. Medical machines sat in large racks inside, beds were laid out for patients. Everything looked intact, as well. There had to be some medical supplies in here.
In an instant Requiem was off, beginning to do what she always did. Searching for any sign of what we needed. Within moments of entering the building, Arsenal collapsed onto one of the beds, not wanting to move. I couldn’t blame her, even I could see the way her muscles were twitching uncontrollably.
Ice water ran through my veins as I watched her. I had brought us here, it was my curiosity which kept us from leaving. If Arsenal died here it was my fault. No. That wasn’t going to happen. Stop thinking like that. Requiem would find something. She always found something. We’d save her. We’d all make it out of here together. Someday we’d look back on all this and laugh. She had to survive, right?
My hooves carried me without thinking. Long strides across the room, eyes scanning the walls for any signs of something to help. Medical boxes, charts, notes about these things, anything! Instead I caught sight of a familiar symbol. Six tiny stars, arranged in a particular pattern. A quick glance at my EFS told me that this building was clean. Whatever these creatures were didn’t seem interested in medical supplies. Part of me was amused by the idea that I thought they should be. Didn’t want to think about that part.
But that symbol, what was it doing here? It didn’t make any sense to me. It burned itself into my mind, my collar throbbing quietly. The weight and constriction of it cutting at the edges of my mind. My legs moved without my permission, carrying me up the stairs. My mind distant and confused. The last of those markers had taken me to a log file which belonged to someone else. Yet the symbol still demanded my attention. No matter how hard I tried to drag myself away.
My thoughts moved like molasses. It was hard to concentrate. The symbol and the feelings it stirred swallowed all other concerns. Down the hall I walked, possessed by an urge from far away. Another symbol, at the end of the hallway, hidden half way behind a heater beside another door. The door opened without complaint. A bedroom. This one slightly fancier than the last. An actual bed in the corner, standing on a small frame.
For a moment my mind stopped. There was no other symbols here. This was the place, so where was it hidden? Without thought I began to rip the room apart. Yanking drawers from the dresser, dumping their contents onto the floor and throwing them away. When it was empty over the entire dresser went. The sound of breaking wood echoing through the building as my hooves fell upon it. Sifting through the shattered remains there was still nothing left.
My attention passed from the dresser to the bed. Dark purple magic wrapped around the entire construct, before heaving it away to one side. Dust and debris littered the floor where the bed had stood. Empty tin cans and bottles which had rolled beneath it. But there it was. A white medical case, the butterfly scratched off and replaced with those six stars.
I ripped it from the ground without thinking. Click, click, the latches gave way. Inside was the prize I sought. A data recording, with the same symbol as the one in the radio station. Two alicorns, white and black, chasing eachother, surrounded by six colored gems.
Again my heart ached, distant recognition there. This symbol was important, so why couldn’t I remember why? The frustration at my shattered mind almost eclipsed my need for the contents of the recording. Almost.
I pressed the recording into the slot on my PipBuck. The transfer was characteristically instantaneous. Preachers Log #6, this time. Tucking the recording into my saddle bag I took a second look into the box. There was a small scrap of folded paper inside. I didn’t even bother examining it in detail at the time, just shoving it into one of my packs. My mind was occupied with other things.
With an effortless motion I triggered the recording, beginning the walk back downstairs. Slower this time. A familiar voice played in my ear. It was different than last time, though. She sounded younger, voice untainted by exhaustion and anger but instead filled with enthusiastic joy.
“Blessed be the Goddesses and the Six. May their path lead us back towards greatness and their lessons mark our way.
“It’s been a long walk from Baltimare, but we finally arrived at Manestreet today! Nothing like as long as the walk to Trotonto from home was, I suppose, but it still felt like it’d go on forever.
“The locals seem really nice here. They turned up to greet us outside of town. About a dozen of them, at that! Even recognized Long Haul.
“Sawbones, the local medical pony, let me borrow a room. I don’t think that’s really his name, but everyone here calls him that. Figure we’re going to be in town for about a week, the least I can do is help out where I can. Maybe that will get the locals to listen to me more.
“Don’t have a lot of time to talk today, sadly. We got in late in the evening and I need to be up early tomorrow. Morning prayers are important, after all! Maybe I can get some of the residents to join me.
“I wish all the news was good news, but I suppose I should mention this too. We were attacked on our way here. It wasn’t too bad. At least I don’t think it was. I hid in one of the carts, like they told me to. Lots of shouting. Two of our guards died. I think that the day after tomorrow I’m going to hold a funeral for them. Ponies willing to sacrifice themselves for others deserve at least that much.
“Don’t want to think about that right now. Got to stay positive. This town is amazing. They built some kind of huge covering over it. Haven’t asked why yet, but it’s incredible.
“Ugh, listen to me. Going over things anypony should know when they find this recording. Guess my mind wanders a bit much when I’m tired, huh? Time for me to go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll start trying to help the locals.
“...
“First day of work in the clinic was okay. Nothing too terrible. Another traveler came in, had been stung by something. Still not sure what, but the poison wasn’t too hard to treat. He kept rambling on about not being able to look away. I think the poison may have made him delirious.
“Morning prayers were alone today. I guess that’s no surprise, nopony here knows who I am after all. Makeshift was there with me, but she never gives actual prayers. Worries me sometimes, but she’s a good pony. Can’t go doubting your friends after all.
“The locals managed to dig up a set of security cameras somewhere in the ruins. Makeshift thinks she can get them set up around town, give them a little more warning if anything dangerous is coming. Don’t know if she’ll manage it, but I’d like to believe we’ll leave everywhere we go better than we found it.
“Not much to talk about today, I suppose. Funeral tomorrow, have my speech written and everything. Maybe I’ll leave it here with the recording. Something to remember it by.
“For now I should go off to bed. Too many things to do tomorrow, and not nearly enough time.
“...
“Funeral went well. Several of the locals and almost the entire caravan turned out for it. I don’t think most of them liked my speech much. But I think I got through to at least a few.
“Morning prayers were slightly less lonely today. Sawbones turned up, at least long enough to listen to what I had to say. Don’t know if he actually cares, but even just having somepony come and listen was nice.
“Merry-go-Round stopped by the clinic today with good news. She managed to sell two more of her dresses in town. Good on her! The wasteland could use more beauty, and she knows how to make it happen.
“Heard that Makeshift managed to get the first of the cameras up and working. Wish I could be out there watching her do her thing, there’s just something amazing about the way she handles machines. But between the clinic and the funeral my day was too busy.
“The traveler from yesterday has made a full recovery. He keeps talking about some kind of thing he saw which mesmerized him. Not sure I believe it, but who knows.
“Time for me to go to bed, hopefully tomorrow will be better than today.
“...
“Today was an unmitigated disaster. I’m... I’m not even really sure where to begin.
“I suppose I should start with morning prayers. It seems my funeral did more than just fail to get through to a few. Some of the locals have taken active offense at my attempts to help them.
“Three more locals showed up today for prayers, at least until two more came along and started threatening ponies. I couldn’t believe it. Who would do that? And why? Makes me feel sick inside.
“There wasn’t much I could do to stop them. Ran off everypony with me. Thankfully they didn’t actually hurt anypony. I’d hate to think that Makeshift or Sawbones had gotten injured because of me.
“Things went from bad to worse when one of the local mares, Buttercup was her name I think, came into the clinic with her colt. He’d been climbing around outside the town and fallen, broken one of his legs.
“It took me almost an hour to calm him down enough to be able to set the leg properly. It’s in a brace now, and I hope he’ll be able to make a full recovery. But it was still so painful to deal with. Screaming child, worried mother, and the fear I’d do it wrong and leave him crippled for life.
“Can’t spare much time to think about that now, though. Long Haul wants to leave early. Don’t know why. When I asked he just claimed ‘there’s a storm brewing’. But there’s always clouds in the sky, aren’t there? Whatever his reasoning we leave first thing tomorrow morning.
“Makeshift finished setting up the cameras today. So at least the town will have some warning if anything goes wrong. Claims she set them up to record things too. All set up in city hall, that big wooden structure with the old fountain out front.
“Hate leaving this place so soon. If I’d had a few more days I might have been able to win more of the locals over. Need to get to bed early tonight, got to pack and get ready to leave in the morning.”
Despite the dark nature of her last day in town, the voice never lost its hopeful enthusiasm. Somehow that made it even more painful to listen to. That this pony had become the same I heard in recording ten felt wrong somehow. I couldn’t spare the time to focus on that at the moment, even if it did clench my heart tight.
By the time I made it back to the main clinic Requiem had finished her search. She’d found a dozen magical healing potions, along with two full rolls of medical bandages. That... That was a lot of supplies. More than I’d had in my entire journey put together. Why were there so many supplies left here if the town had been wiped out? It didn’t make any sense.
Near Arsenal’s forehooves was an empty healing potion bottle, her eyes closed and breathing easy. She didn’t even open her eyes as she spoke, “Aurora? I think... I think I’m going to need a minute. Whatever that thing was, it stung me. I think it was poisoned, burns real bad.” a grim smile on her face, “N-not that this is serious. But, I don’t want to push myself too hard, right? Better to recover before we try to move on.” Well, I couldn’t fault her for wanting to rest. There was something else I wanted to see in town anyway.
Slowly I approached Requiem, collecting the pile of supplies she’d gathered, “Requiem? I want you to stay here and look out for Arsenal. I’ll be back soon.” dipping down low to kiss her forehead, “And no following me this time, understand? If anything happens in here, you’ve got to get Arsenal up and out.”
I didn’t think anything would happen here. The building was clear, I was sure of that. For a moment Requiem just stared at me questioningly before heading towards the bed to leap up and lay down next to Arsenal. I had to hope she understood why I was leaving her here.
Moving towards the door I briefly wondered if I should bring the two with me for what I was about to do. It wouldn’t be a terrible idea, but Arsenal really did need to recover. Plus, if things went too badly, I could always teleport myself away. I couldn’t take anyone else with me when I did that, though. Better if I did this alone.
*** *** ***
Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was a terrible idea. Of course, bad ideas were always obvious in hind sight. The screeching hiss coming from the mass of red lights before me made how stupid incredibly clear. Three red markers on my EFS in front of me, two more behind. The dark purple haze of my shield mixed with their light.
The resounding ‘thunk’ of a large impact against my shield thundered in my ears. Thankfully the creatures didn’t seem strong enough to penetrate it very far. The effort of keeping the shield up against the repeated pounding was making my horn ache. Tiny rips crawled at the edges of my vision as the creatures continued to assail my bubble of safety.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*
Three rounds from my heavy revolver, spewed in the general direction of the red lights before me. The crash of the weapon sent surges of pain up my horn. But one of the three before me fell, lights winking off into invisibility.
That was my chance. Instantly my wings extended and I leaped. The roof in the main room of the city hall wasn’t nearly high enough for proper flight, but it was easy enough to leap over the two remaining ghost things. Hooves clattering back down to wood behind them.
Time to run. My heart thundered in my chest, horn throbbing with every pulse. But I couldn’t let go of my spell now. The poison just one of those things had was enough to seriously impair Arsenal. I was larger than she was, but I was also being chased by four of the invisible things. Worse, I had no idea what they’d do if they actually caught poisoned prey.
Rushing up stairs and around a corner I was presented with a choice. Two doors, but which one to choose? The clattering sound of those things following me filled the hallway. Oh, horseapples. No time to debate. Pick one and go! Charging forwards I rounded the corner into the still-closed door. A resounding crash of breaking wood filling the building. No way they were going to miss me now.
This looked promising. There was wiring running along the ceilings here, off towards another door on the far side of the room. This one was one of the large metallic doors I had seen before. Sitting open at the moment.
A growling hiss and sudden surge of pain in my horn alerted me to the fact that the creatures had caught up. Spinning on my hooves I fired off the three remaining rounds from my revolver, backing through the doorway. Another set of winking lights vanished, but I’d have to drop my shield to reload.
Just inside the door I spotted a switch, one of the creatures rushing towards the open entryway just as I slammed a hoof down on the button. The door slid up and closed with a clatter, followed immediately by a loud ‘thunk’ as the invisible ghost-thing met hard metal.
It took a moment for my heart to stop racing so badly and take in my surroundings. Against the far wall was a large set of controls, a bank of monitors which were showing the state of the town just above it. Winking lights on the board which meant nothing to me. Now the real question was how to find out what happened here.
The tears at the edge of my vision were slowly receding. The throbbing, nauseous pain in my horn dieing back. Parts of me wanted to just lay down and go to sleep, but that would have to wait. I couldn’t abandon Requiem and Arsenal for that long. Forcing those feelings from my mind I began to search the controls for any sign of how to use them.
The control panel was covered in switches and buttons. Finally I found one which looked promising. ‘Recording replay’. I had no idea what the recording would be of, but it was something, right? Hitting the button the entire bank of monitors went blank. For a few moments I feared I had broken the machine before text began to spew across the screens. ‘Recording memory full. Loading last log file. Please wait.’
Seconds ticked by nervously. The sound of those things scrabbling at the door echoed in the quiet room. They knew I was in here and were just waiting for the chance to get at me. The low, mournful howl in the distance returned once again, lasting longer than it had before. My bones trembled in time with that sound. My nerves weren’t going to be calm until we were well away from this town.
Finally the screens returned to life, displaying the center of the town, but not as I had seen it. Dozens of ponies were gathered around the central podium. An elderly stallion stood behind the podium addressing the crowd. There was no sound in the recordings, leaving me to wonder what he was giving a speech about. Many of the ponies had food or drink, with seemingly little concern for their safety.
All at once the crowd turned, though I couldn’t see towards what. There was a moment of silent stares, before the stallion behind the podium called out to whatever they were all staring at. Another figure entered the frame. A huge figure, with long muscular legs, a massive, sharp horn and vast near-black wings.
Another alicorn! But this one didn’t look like me. She was, if anything, even larger than I was. Shrouded in metal armor which covered much of her head and torso. Armor which felt distantly familiar. Her mane waved in invisible wind, the same as mine. Rippling of its own accord. She said something, and suddenly dozens of tiny lights appeared around her, surrounding her hooves and the gathered ponies out to every direction.
Panic swept through the crowd instantly. Ponies dropped their drinks and began to run, fleeing in every direction. The floating lights moving, chasing ponies. Wounds opened upon the ponies when the lights got too near, sending them crashing to the ground. They were killing everyone! My eyes moved back towards that alicorn. She was just standing by, laughing as she watched the catastrophe.
How... How could any pony be so callous? She was no raider, her armor was tightly fitted and well made. Even I could tell that. So why? What was the point? I couldn’t stand to watch any more, diverting my eyes and turning away. A monster in the wasteland. A monster with whom I shared a form, and perhaps had once shared a mind. That thought sent cold shocks down my spine. No. No! I wasn’t like that! I wouldn’t be like that!
My mind churned, chasing itself in circles. No, no, no. Quit thinking like that. Without thinking I bucked against the machine behind me. The screech of rending metal filled the room as the control panel collapsed inwardly. I had found the reason this town was dead. But it hadn’t explained anything at all.
Why did it always turn out like this? Everywhere I went, nothing but death and misery. I wanted to go back to the Junkyard, to find a nice warm place and lay down in the sun. My heart ached for the chance to feel that wonderful warmth again. Without a care in the world.
But there was something I had to do first. Without the water talisman the junkyard wouldn’t be home for anypony for long. Slowly I pulled the remaining frag grenades from my satchel. The shiny metal apples floating out in front of me. One by one I pulled the stems from them, dropping them to the floor.
My hoof collided with the button again. Red lights beyond the doorframe instantly surged towards me, but they were already too late. Brilliant white light filled my vision, the world imploding around me moments before explosions rocked the town hall.
*** *** ***
The clinic was no different than I had left it. The explosions in the distance muffled by many walls. Requiem reacted to my presence instantly, leaping off the bed and trotting over towards me. For a moment she stood directly below me, then slowly turned and reared.
*CRACK!*
OW! She bucked me! Right in the leg! Okay, I probably deserved it, but still. That hurt. The pain didn’t last long before being replaced by concern. Arsenal was still on the bed, having not moved much at all, “Arsenal? Do you think you can walk?”
The brown pegasus just shook her head, “Such a pity. The searing agony of my leg would make standing impossible! If only I had my wings, it would be easy. But alas, I am but a humble grounded pegasus.” a pout spread to her lips, a groan coming through mine.
The low moaning wail of the town returned again, but this time it was accompanied by another sound. The tortured howl of bending metal. Clang, thunk, crunch. Somewhere outside some massive thing had fallen. The tortured metallic groaning hadn’t stopped either.
My heart raced. Had my explosives done more than I expected? What could be... The metal cover over the town? That thought sent lightning down my nerves, “Requiem, grab whatever you’re taking with you.” I wrapped my magic around Arsenal and heaved her from the bed onto my back, “We’re leaving. Right now!”
There was no hesitation before I hit the door, forcing it open in a single motion. Across the main circle of buildings. The city hall was burning, a chunk of metal sky had fallen from far above and cut straight through the building. Brilliant golden light cascading down through the opening.
There wasn’t time to pause and enjoy the view. I galloped between buildings as fast as I could, Requiem barely keeping pace at my side. Arsenal weakly clung to my neck. No time for worries about whether or not she’d get sicker from this.
Screaming metal filled the air once again as a vast piece of darkened sky fell from above. A billboard crashed through the eatery where I had found Requiem. Onwards the two of us ran, ducking between a gap in the covering and out of the town.
No time to stop, rushing through the ruined buildings. Overly cramped, burned wooden beams smashed to bits by my mass. The smell of burnt wood filled my nose as bits of charcoal ground themselves into my coat. Forget Scraps, I was going to need a bath by the time we got back!
Behind us there was another horrible sound. Nearly deafening, torturous and horrid screech of metal. The metal sky gave up an angry howl. Wind blowing across the wrecked city. I spared a look back, just in time to see the last of the support give way. The sky fell, crushing the remains of Manestreet beneath it. Burying the rest of those horrific things in its mass. Or so I hoped.
A great cloud of dust and debris washed out from the collapse, surging across the city. It whipped through my mane and beneath my wings. Grinding dust and dirt into my skin. A familiar, almost comforting, feeling of the dirt being pressed inwards by such great force.
My heart surged angrily as we finally began to move beyond the edges of the wrecked city. Vision still clouded by strange colorful apparitions. The sun hung low in the sky, reaching towards nightfall as I finally stopped running. There was no longer such a need to rush.
Beside me Requiem panted for breath, barely making any sound at all. As I looked down to make sure she was alright, she just glared back up at me. She didn’t need words to convey that feeling. Yes, I was an idiot. Yes, I had just demolished a town. Yes, I felt really bad about it. Honest!
A groan passed Arsenal’s lips, still resting on my back. I’d be carrying her the rest of the day, it seemed. Slowly the three of us returned to traveling down the roads. The silence of the wastes surrounding us again.
*** *** ***
Warm orange light filled our small camp sight. The sun had set nearly an hour ago. Arsenal had stripped off her armor and bound her leg with some of the medical bandages. She seemed to be doing fairly well at least.
Requiem was bucking and practicing like she had on the roof of the hospital. A smile passed my face as I watched her, something about seeing her like that felt so natural and effortless. Part of me insisted it was horrible that I thought that, no filly should practice combat. But... She seemed happy when she did it, and that was good enough.
“Are you ever going to leave anywhere we visit intact?” Arsenal’s question wasn’t entirely undue. I had managed to destroy just about everything I layed hoof on, it seemed.
A chuckle passed my lips, “Are you going to manage to not get injured wherever we go?” Hey, fair’s fair! She wanted to bring up my failings, I could bring up her’s.
A snort from Arsenal as she refused to answer, spreading one of her wings wide. As I watched she turned her head around and began gently chewing on the base of her wing. Working up the entire length, bit by bit. Then turned to the other to repeat the process.
“What are you doing?” I fought back laughter at the odd look of her.
For a moment Arsenal ignored me, as though she found the question beneath her, before finally returning her attention to me, “Preening. That armor is incredibly itchy, and my wings are very sensitive. What, didn’t anypony teach you proper hygene?” Proper hygene involved chewing on yourself? That idea seemed bizarre. But then, we didn’t have any bath for her to use, so this was probably the best she was going to get.
It didn’t take long for her to return to what she had been doing. Up one wing, then the other, then picking at the particular feathers. I contemplated trying it myself. No, I wasn’t nearly flexible enough to reach my own wings that way.
Requiem leaped up and climbed over my back, sitting down at my side. Without thought I wrapped a wing around her, only to feel something odd at her side. I hadn’t looked at her very closely since I found her, after all she hated that, but the feeling was distinct enough to draw my attention.
A small grey pack was attached to her side, latched with a tiny metal musical scale. Something made by Scraps, perhaps? Saddle bags fitted for a filly, and even properly designed with her own cutie mark! There was something else different about her, a small whistle hung from her neck. Dangling on a short chain. Another gift from Scraps? I could only guess.
Requiem was, as always, not talking. When she noticed me looking at her she backed up away, under my wing a bit further. But she didn’t vanish entirely. She had come all this way to be with me, and I wasn’t going to deny her that. Not tonight. Tonight the warmth of her presence was something I wanted so, so badly. This was the way things were supposed to be.
Slowly I pulled the book from my bags, opened it and began to read. The words flowed through me, stirring distant and comforting memories. "Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria..."
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 7)
Silent Requiem (Level Up! - Level 6) Quest Perk: Fallen Caesar Style (Rank 1) - Basic studies of Zebra combat techniques has given you a simple understanding of their most widely used fighting style. You gain an additional 25% bonus damage with unarmed sneak attacks and your unarmed attacks ignore up to 5 points of your target’s DT.
((Note: This chapter contains certain uses of text formatting which do not work on FiM Fiction. The entire chapter follows intact, however for best effect it is recommended you read it in its original formatting here.))
Chapter Seven: Decisions
“Whatever makes you see makes you believe.”
Responsibility. It’s an easy concept to grasp. What you do is upon your back. Your past, carried with you through life. Every decision you make adds to that weight. Like a great boulder we all carry with us. Whether for good or for ill. We share it with one another, help each other with the weight. It makes life easier when we’re all together.
But how far does responsibility go? Can you blame those who have no ability to make decisions? Is it their fault for losing that capacity? If circumstances conspire to force someone to do something horrible are they still responsible for it? I ask myself these questions every day, and I still don’t have a satisfactory answer.
*** *** ***
The cracking thunder of gunfire rolled across broken ground. We had to abandon the road shortly after dawn, picking our way through rocky weed-entrenched land. The stable was out here somewhere, according to Tumbleweed. More pressingly, somepony else was out here having a fire fight.
The sound of gunfire grew progressively louder with each hoofstep carrying us closer to the stable. Requiem was creeping from one rocky outcropping to another. Arsenal sticking closer by my side, still limping slightly from her injury, “We’re not going to get involved in another fight, are we?”
“Maybe?” How should I know? I didn’t even know who was shooting! “I hope not.” My heart sank at the prospect of having to kill yet more ponies. The image of that armored alicorn laughing over the destruction of Manestreet lingered in the back of my mind. I wasn’t like that, was I? I wasn’t a monster like her.
Arsenal opened her mouth to answer as we crested a small hill, falling silent when the actual battle came into view. Two groups of ponies facing off across a short area of open ground. The cave entrance we were looking for immediately on the other side of the firefight. Why was the wasteland never easy?
At first, the battle continued without anyone noticing us. Bullets chipped away at hard stone, screaming through the air uncontrolled. Neither group was in good condition, both sides ragged and poorly armored. One side was definitely at the advantage, outnumbering the other nearly two to one. Where had all these ponies come from?
Parts of me raged at the fight, wanted me to get involved, stop them from killing. Other parts insisted it wasn’t my fight, that getting involved was a pointless endeavour. “You’re not thinking about actually getting involved in that, are you?” Arsenal’s voice cut into my contemplation, were my thoughts really that obvious? “It’s not our fight. Do you know who they are? They could be like those horrible ponies who captured me.”
She voiced the same concerns as my mind. My legs felt weak as the battle raged below, indecision smothering my mind. I couldn’t just stand here, but what if I made the wrong choice? The idea of murdering innocent ponies out of expedience sent cold shivers down my spine.
Finally someone from the battle had noticed us, sending up an excited shout. Another pony, wearing thickly reinforced leather barding, cast a quick glance our way. His voice rose above the din of battle, “HAH! Doublethink came through for us after all! We’ve got backup this time. You!” he looked up towards me as he yelled, “You’re gonna help us capture all these ponies. Get your flank down here!” What? I... What? Parts of me seethed at the idea that some random pony thought he could order me around. Most of me was just confused.
The shouting drew attention from the other, smaller, group. Several of them had spotted me now, giving up their own excited shouts. One broke from cover, trying to run away. The pony who had shouted orders at me grabbed a small sidearm from his flank. Biting down on the trigger the fleeing pony fell instantly, no sign of obvious wounds on their body.
A moment later he broke cover, rushing across open space. He’d dug another object from his packs in just the moment it took to close that ground. A metal collar, identical to the one around my neck. With practiced ease he slid it around the other pony’s neck, locking it in place. Slavers. They were slavers!
My mind fell out from under me. My collar burned with the strength of balefire. The weight of chains settled across my body, a distant echo of much worse times. Slavers. Attacking innocent ponies. I slid Tom from where he rested at my side. A basic motion and he was raised. Words crawled across my vision as I primed him, but in my rage they barely registered.
Arsenal’s voice shouted from beside me, even her words fell upon deaf ears. My skin crawled with electric tingles, my blood boiled in its veins. I slid effortlessly into the frozen time of my targeting spell. A single shot was all I had before needing to reload, but it was all I needed.
*SKREEEE-BOOM!*
Three ponies were slain in a single shot. Their bodies flew through the air like rag dolls. A rain of blood and severed limbs descending from the sky upon the remaining slavers. It took less than a moment for them to turn their weapons towards me.
It took less than that for my rage-fueled mind to throw a barrier between us. Bullets slammed into my shield and scattered. Even those which punctured it barely registered upon my mind. The sharp cutting of gunshots grazing across my body seared into my awareness. The pain only drove me onwards.
I had lost all sight of Arsenal and Requiem. The only thing I could see were those things down there in the valley. They weren’t ponies. They were monsters, wearing the skins of ponies. The chorus in my mind was drowned out, a single voice screaming, raging and crying in equal measure. A second missile slid into Tom with unthinking ease.
The horrific noise of a missile launch filled the air for the second time. Four more ponies died in an instant of fire and pain. It felt good. Somewhere, far away, part of me protested this slaughter. But the voice of vengeance was so much louder. The weight of chains so much heavier. It wasn’t enough, maybe it would never be enough.
Pink beams of light raced across the battlefield as another pony fell, vaporized into a small pile of ash. Arsenal had joined me in removing these horrors from the world. As it should be. The slavers could tell they were outmatched now. Most of their allies were dead, the would-be slaves were still firing on them. They turned and broke, beginning to run.
No. No! They wouldn’t escape. They couldn’t be allowed to flee. They’d go back to hurting ponies. To breaking ponies. Brilliant white filled my vision and the world imploded around me. Less than an eye blink later I stood in their path. Dark purple shield around me, my eyes burned with crimson rage, wings spread wide. It was like someone else was guiding my body through the motions. Without thinking I raised my voice, rumbling across the open ground, “YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE! THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND ACCEPT YOUR END!”
The slavers skidded to a halt before me. Turning they fled back towards the would-be slaves. Their leader shouted something which didn’t fully register on me. I stalked down the valley, slowly at first, until the four remaining raiders broke into a full gallop for the cave entrance. My legs carried me after them without thought or hesitation, blundering through the rocky outcroppings they had been hiding behind.
Darkness swallowed the sky, suddenly burying me in a tomb of stone and soil. Ahead I could see lights, the silhouettes of the slavers stark against the brilliance. I wouldn’t lose them. I couldn’t! Rushing onwards, the rock and soil changing to steel and paint, my hooves clanging across metal as I chased them further and further into the ancient Stable. I wasn’t seeing any of it, just the images of those slavers, all sound drowned out by chains and cruel laughter.
*** *** ***
Lost. Alone. Cold. Pained.
Any of these words could have described me. But perhaps the best word for me at this moment was exhausted. My mind was spent, my rage had run cold, the voice in my head gone silent. I was left alone beneath cold, sterile white lights. All around me were pristine grey walls. The hallway reflecting the dull, empty feeling inside me.
Dull, pulsing aches filled my body. Remnants of what had been searing hot wounds not long before. Places where a dozen bullets had passed over my coat, scouring my skin and burying themselves in meat and bone. Blood stained my coat, my blood forming a sticky wet mass of hairs around recently closed wounds. Two empty healing potion bottles rolled across the floor.
My legs were weak from blood loss. My horn pounded from exertion. My vision didn’t want to focus. The dull metal hallways around me felt familiar and foreign in equal measure. I should know this place. Should recognize it. Distant echos of the past, a faintly flickering candle of recognition amidst the storm of madness. But it wasn’t enough. Something was wrong. Something was missing.
A weak step forward pulled on the tightly wrapped bandages around my forelegs. Dark red stains ran through pristine white cloth, tightly wrapped and covering far more than necessary. The thought that I knew how many bandages were ‘enough’ for bullet wounds was horrifying. Yet somehow it felt comforting as well, a distant recognition of forgotten things. Exhaustion prevented any joy from making its way into my thoughts.
Hoofsteps came slow and unsteady. With each motion another wave of dull aching swept over my mind. It was hard to walk in a straight line, my legs just didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Or maybe my eyes were lying about where the walls were. The nauseating way the world lurched with each step made the hallway twist and turn inappropriately. My path weaved back and forth, swaying across empty hallways.
Empty hallways. Something about that was wrong. Even through the confusion and pain I could tell. There were supposed to be ponies here. The walls were clean and well maintained. The lights didn’t even flicker slightly, their quiet humming in perfect tune. So where were the maintenance ponies repairing them? Where were the foals rushing up and down the halls? Why was this place so silent?
Distant sounds drifted to my mind as I pondered those questions. The echos of words, broken and barely audible. Nonsensical.
“... over six months …”
“... tell them when …”
“... tonight is the night …”
“... wasn’t supposed to be like this …”
The words had no direction, echoing in empty hallways. All sense of location lost upon my addled mind. But voices meant survivors! Or did it? They were broken in a way they ought not to be. My mind was fuzzy, couldn’t focus properly. Where were they, why did they feel so familiar? My stomach squirmed as I tried to focus on those thoughts.
The sharp clatter of hooves on metal filled the hall. The noise cut through my confusion like a knife. Forcing my mind back into the moment, a flicker of movement rushed passed my vision at a T-crossing up ahead. Small, fast, running towards something else. Panic swept through me, I had left Arsenal and Requiem behind! Were they lost somewhere in here as well?
The surge of realization sharpened my vision. Lacking the strength to rush I had to settle for a slow walk. “Hello?” My voice echoed down the halls as I rounded the corner. Another form was visible some distance down the hall, laying limp upon the ground, covered in thick blue and yellow barding. The smaller form was nearby, doing something to the unconscious pony.
They didn’t even look up as I began to approach. For a moment I hoped that they’d be harmless, friendly even. Maybe the ponies here would be willing to listen. To talk. To... Do what? I had come to steal their water away. To take it for another place. Maybe I could offer them a place there. But would they really abandon their home without reason?
They were questions I wouldn’t get answers to. The smaller figure, a filly, raised her muzzle. Grasped in her teeth was a small automatic weapon as she turned to face me. Looking up at me with huge eyes and a passive, emotionless expression. The roar of her weapon filled the hallway less than a moment later.
Searing pain lanced through my flank, burning through whatever lingering confusion remained. Medical warnings flashed across my vision as half a dozen bullets buried themselves in thick muscles. My legs wavered under me, blood pouring from fresh wounds. A scream escaped my lips, howling down hallways in surprise and pain both.
My first reaction was to grab my revolver. Floating it into the air with sickened, pained confusion, slipping into the frozen time of my targeting spell. I stared down at the filly for a long, long time. Just sitting there as my targeting spell waited for further input. A tiny pony, not even as old as Requiem, barely large enough to carry the weapon in her mouth. She had nearly fallen over after beginning to fire, rearing up from the recoil. The familiar form of a PipBuck was closed around one of her forelegs.
My mind reeled with pain and exhaustion. What... What was going on here? The figure behind her was some kind of security pony. I recognized that now. But what... What was this filly doing here? Why was she collecting weapons? Why would she attack me? Why was... Why was she marked as an enemy on my EFS?
For a long, long time I stared down at her, confused and pained. Parts of me seethed, demanding I fight back. She made herself my enemy, I couldn’t ignore that. But more of me, much more, protested. She was just a filly. Killing her, even in self defense, parts of me insisted that was unthinkably horrible. My heart squirmed inside my chest from the pain and confusion.
Releasing my targeting spell I turned and ran as best I could. My legs, filled with pain and wrapped too tightly, swerved under me. Almost tripping as I ran. Behind me the soft ‘thud’ of my attacker hitting the ground was dimly audible as the hail of bullets stopped. Without thinking I ran down the hallways, pain screaming through my body. Further into the den of madness.
*** *** ***
Twisting dull grey corridors, every one like every other, sprawled far beneath the ground. I wasn’t in the same hallway, for certain. My flight had taken me down two sets of stairs, much deeper into the ancient Stable. A long hallway filled on both sides by doorways stretched out before me.
Another empty healing potion bottle. Bandages soaked in fresh blood. The sharp pains in my limbs had returned to being dull aches. Parts of me longed for the warmth and joyful tingle of the sewers again. How they had swept away every pain and care in my body. But that place was far, far away from here.
For fifteen long minutes I had sat, slumped against a wall, half-watching my EFS for any signs of more attackers. Struggling to keep myself from slipping into the dark embrace of sleep. My body protested; even filled with healing magic the wounds were far from repaired. Sleep sounded wonderful, but not here. This place was filled with enemies.
Forcing legs back under me I slowly stood. Down the hallway, aches returning with every hoofstep. Sweeping away sleep from my mind through pained stimulation. Doors sat open on either side, bedrooms which had no signs of being lived in. Each pristine and perfect, carefully maintained and cleaned. The shelves lined with ancient mementos.
Curiosity won over good sense, I ducked into one of the side rooms. Books lined up on a small bookshelf above a bed. A pristine light, turned off, on a small side-table. A closed footlocker by the base of the bed. Everything was perfectly ordered, perfectly straight, no signs of the lived-in feel that a room should have. “What happened here?” My question went unanswered by the empty room.
Cautiously I stepped further inside, swinging open the footlocker. There was no actual lock on it, surprisingly. Inside was a neatly folded medical coat, a small stack of discarded bottlecaps and an audio recording tape. Caps went into my bags without a second thought, though part of me protested stealing from Stable Dwellers. The audio tape held my attention. Plugging it into my PipBuck, it took only a moment for a strong, male, voice to fill my ears.
“Overmare came to me today. She had instructions and some blueprints from Stable-Tec. They were strange, I’ve never seen arcanotechnology quite like it before. The instructions were even stranger, directed to me personally.
“I know the head of Stable-Tec was supposed to review each application for a Stable personally, but I hadn’t expected personalized instructions for Stable usage. But these plans are most intriguing. If they really do what the Overmare claims then pursuing them is definitely worthwhile.
“It will take a few days to set up a proper study area. I think the empty room at the end of the hall should be perfect for our test subjects. With luck, we should be able to begin the first procedure in less than a week. The Overmare claims she already has a volunteer, as well. This could revolutionize Equestria, if we can make it work properly.”
The audio recording was confusing. A project in a Stable? Orders directly from the Stable-Tec head? Attempts to answer my questions only seemed to spawn new questions. This place was some kind of research facility and Stable both. But, why perform experiments on survivors? It didn’t make any sense.
I spied something out of the corner of my eye, interrupting my thoughts. A red marker on my EFS. Approaching from somewhere back up the corridor. No time to be digging into old memories now. But my legs lacked the strength to run much further. Parts of me protested, demanding I stand and fight. I didn’t want to think about those parts, not right now.
Down the corridor I stumbled. Door after door on both sides open and empty rooms. The red markers on my EFS were still moving, at a guess they must have been in the stairwell. There! At the end of the corridor, a closed door! Struggling to move quicker sent painful shockwaves up my flank. The bullet wound from earlier still not fully healed.
The door slid open quietly, with nothing but the soft whir of a motor. Inside I rushed, kicking the button behind me to close it again. I had to hope they wouldn’t see me enter. My breathing was hard and labored, my horn still pounding from the exertion yesterday and again this morning. For a moment I tried to relax, not worrying about the markers on my EFS. Panic wouldn’t help now.
The room I had ducked into looked like a nursery. Children’s books stacked on small shelves. A toy box in the corner. Small play rug in the middle of the room. But it was like the bedrooms. Everything was too perfect. Too orderly. It didn’t look like anypony had been playing with anything here in a long time.
Slowly I swung the lid of the toy chest open. Inside were dozens of toys. Tiny carts, stuffed animals and dolls. They were all organized, ordered into strict rows by type. This was just getting stranger and stranger. One of the toys caught my eye, a dark grey pony doll wearing a fake PipBuck. Thickly curled yarn worked in her mane and tail. It stirred distant, comforting feelings inside. For a moment it was easy to forget the pain as I floated the doll from its resting place.
The motorized whir of the door almost failed to register upon my mind. Suddenly two more ponies entered the room, red markers on my EFS burning brightly. Ripping my attention from the doll as I threw my shield around myself just a moment before bullets screamed through the air.
One of them had another of those light automatic weapons. A scant mouthful of bullets screamed through my shield, blunted greatly in the process. The other was carrying a much different weapon, a rifle like the one I had stolen from the raiders. The resounding crack of its fire filled the room as the bullet barely missed me, passing through my mane.
The voices in my head were arguing again. These ponies were attacking me! I had to defend myself. I couldn’t let them kill me. So the voices said. But others protested. They were Stable ponies. I was in their home, invading from the outside. I couldn’t kill them, they were just defending their home. Back and forth the voices warred angrily, as I stood, transfixed by the sight of the two ponies. Both wore dark blue barding, the yellow number sixty six emblazoned onto their shoulders.
“Please! Please stop shooting at me!” My voice cracked from pain and exertion, loud enough to be heard over even the gunfire. The two ponies didn’t pay me any mind at all. If anything they seemed to redouble their efforts to slay me.
If I couldn’t fight, then I could still run. For a moment I concentrated on my magic, brilliant white light filling my vision briefly. Then the spell fell apart, my horn throbbed painfully as the teleportation magic collapsed. The pounding on my shield increased the ache. It felt like my head was being split open from the inside. But I couldn’t release my magic. In this enclosed space that automatic weapon would chop me to pieces!
But I still couldn’t kill them. Could I? They were innocent ponies. But they weren’t listening. I couldn’t run. I... What was I going to do? If I stayed here I’d die. My mind pounded in agony. I wasn’t a monster. I couldn’t just murder ponies like that! Even dying would be better than being that!
What about Requiem? If I died, who would look after her? Lilac? Lilac couldn’t even stand on her own. Scraps? Maybe, but I couldn’t imagine Requiem trusting her. Arsenal? That thought was worth laughing at, in less dire situations. She needed me. I couldn’t die here, I wouldn’t leave her without anyone. I couldn’t fail her again.
Pulling the revolver from my side I slipped into the frozen time of my targeting spell. These ponies were defending their home. They were protecting what they cared about. But I had to protect what I cared about. I wasn’t... I wasn’t a monster. Monsters didn’t care for others. They didn’t fight to protect or love. My heart clenched tight as I queued up attacks.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*BLAM!*
My revolver emptied all six chambers. Three at each pony. Even I couldn’t miss two stationary targets at short range. The large, heavy rounds cut flesh and shattered bone. Two ponies hit the ground with a resounding ‘thump’. Tears welled up in my eyes as they let out their last gasps. Not a monster... Not a monster.
I had to move on. Downing one more magical healing potion. Down to just two healing potions left. With a whole Stable and no idea where Requiem or Arsenal were. My thoughts drifted a moment, trying to piece together what to do. There had to be a medical clinic somewhere in this Stable. Go there first, get supplies, then search for my friends.
Pulling the guns from the two ponies I had just slain, I shook tears from my eyes. Crying wouldn’t help, not now. Survive now, breakdown later. I spared a brief glance around the room again, my heart low and pained. I had murdered again today, taken the lives of ponies out of necessity. My mind struggled to find anything else worth thinking about.
The doll had fallen, forgotten, to the floor. Slowly I levitated it up and stuffed it in a bag. I didn’t want to abandon something like that to a place like this. I’d give it to Requiem. Something for her to hold at night. Maybe it would help her overcome her fear of ponies.
A moment later I was off, moving down the hallways at a slow and deliberate pace. Now with a weapon ready. I didn’t want to kill any more, tears still staining my cheeks just from those necessary deaths. I wasn’t a monster. But I couldn’t die here. Not yet.
*** *** ***
Twelve confused eyes looked towards me as the door whirred open. Ponies sat around small, round tables, meals in various states of consumption before them. Friendly markers on my EFS, hope that there might still be somepony down here I could talk to. Somepony I could convince to call off their attacks.
My hopes were destroyed the moment those ponies laid eyes upon me. Instantly the markers changed from friend to foe, one of the nearest ponies grabbing a knife from their plate and lunging at me with barely a pause. Without thinking I swung my sawed off shotgun around and pulled the trigger, a bloom of fire and pain filled the space between us as another life was snuffed out. The pony flew past me, carried by the momentum of their lunge, crashing with a resounding crack into a hard metal wall.
Madness erupted in the cafeteria. Tables toppled as ponies rushed for chairs and knives. Improvised weapons snatched up and readied. What was going on? Why were these ponies so dead set on attacking me everywhere I went!? Through the chaos and strained eyes I could spot a smaller figure, a colt, holding a butterknife in his mouth. Just as intent and determined as any other.
My legs quivered under me, threatening to give out. The aches of gunshots healed over by magic strained my muscles. The thoughts of those I had already killed and the fear of murdering more drowned my mind. Why was this happening?
It’s strange the things you notice when your mind is filled with confusion, like the fact that every pony in the room was a blank flank. Even the adults. Even the one I had killed. No Cutie Marks to show their talents or purpose in life. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Everypony was best at something.
My moment of confusion was all it took for the first of the ponies to spring upon me. A grape mare with a blueberry mane, her blue and yellow Stable barding a gorgeous contrast to her natural colors. She would have been beautiful if she weren’t so murderously intent on killing me. The bar stool in her lips traced a smooth arc through the air, filling my vision.
My sight blurred and swam as I stumbled to one side, the pain in my head and horn exploding a thousand times worse. My shotgun clattered to the floor, skidding outside my reach. My vision wouldn’t focus right. So tired. This was all wrong. Rearing up I sprang upon the mare, too close to me to run away. My vision clouded with tears and pain as my hooves slammed down upon her. The resounding snap of her spine filling the air as the jukebox in the corner clicked over to a new track. Vibrant, beautiful orchestral music poured across the room, in stark contrast to the death which was about to plague it.
Sharp, stinging pain lanced through my leg. My scream was swallowed up by the crash of strings. A cutting knife driven hilt deep into my shoulder seethed dark red blood. The pain forced rationality from my mind. Fight. Kill. Survive.
Hooves flew through the air, bodies broke, tables shattered and crashed to the ground. Swung in mouth and thundering against bone. Percussion of hooves against hard tile floors. Crack, snap. Another spine, another rib, another body fell to the floor unmoving. A symphony of pain rushed along my nerves. Distant and meaningless, half my vision filled with unfocused light.
Another pain dug into my flank, soliciting a kick without even looking at the offending party. Wound upon wound piled, stomach lurching and heaving in agony. What was left of rationality screamed for reason, but there was none. Blood painted walls and floor, a warm sticky feeling trickling down my horn as the fourth fell to the side.
*BLAM!*
The floor rushed up to meet me, searing heat covered muscle and bone. The crash of cymbals resounded in time with the shot. The thunder of drums in time with hooves on my torso. Crackling, popping pain seethed through my ribs. Blood flowed across lips as a glass rolled across checked floors. My hooves moved of their own accord, grabbing and shoving. A body flung loose, hurled free and high as the music crested. The resounding smash of the bar followed but a moment later, the pony impaled upon broken wood.
My legs found their way back under me. Barely the strength to stand. My vision was blunt and nonsensical. Tears streamed from my eyes without my consent. A strange blob of color stood before me, the waves of nauseating pain seemed distant and meaningless now. A faint cutting, grating feeling almost made me giggle from it. So effortless a short kick with a foreleg and the strange color moved, skittering across hard tiles.
Tears slowly cleared, breathing heavy and labored. My eye coming back towards focus. Below me was a small body. Broken in two places. Spine snapped, lower body bent all wrong. Neck twisted, head facing upwards, staring at me with unfocused eyes. Eyes which stared off in two different directions. Unmoving. Dead. Dead by my hooves.
Not a monster. Just a pony.
My legs wavered, trying to get my magic to focus enough to levitate the shotgun. My horn lanced with pain again, strange multicolored lines worming their way across my vision. Carefully I lowered my head, grabbing the shotgun in my mouth. My legs carried me slowly, shakily, towards the kitchen. Stomach heaving from the pain of every step.
Healing potions. Needed healing potions. Two more in my bag, a moment later gone. Empty bottles clattering to the hard floor. Not a monster. Just a pony. Past the dead, over the broken counter, into the kitchen. Food. Wanted something to feel better. Needed time to heal. Food. Not a monster. Just a pony.
Tearing through the kitchen was easy. Grab lever, pull, doors open. No locks, why would there be? Soon my mouth filled with the sweet taste of carrots and snack cakes. Wounds closing, muscles mending, body patching back together under magical treatment. Not a monster. Just a pony. Tears returned, slumped against a counter. Six more dead. Not a monster. Just a pony.
A slip of paper fell from a book as I smashed across the room for more food. Words scribbled on it which wouldn’t focus properly. Made no sense. Stuff it in my bags, move on. Needed more food. Stomach lurched in pain and misery with each step. Worth it. Revel in the taste, forget the pain. Euphoria, brief and wonderful.
Soon it was all gone. Eaten. Packed away. Time to move on. Needed healing. Needed answers. Not a monster. Just a pony. Down the halls. Find the medical center. Had to be one. Was sure. Not a monster. Just a pony. Had to get healed. Had to find my friends. Get out of this place, before it was too late.
Not a monster. Just a pony. Not a monster. Just a pony. Not a monster. Just a pony.
*** *** ***
Tempered steel sunk through soft white tissue. A gush of liquid washing out as the eye ruptured. Monster. A pony fell to the ground. Stinging pain lanced through me. Distant, disconnected. Someone else was doing this, not me. Pony. Burning, searing heat. Something lodged in my flank. Should hurt more. Couldn’t stop now. Monster.
Tears clouded eyes, filling the world with nonsensical shapes and colors. Pony. Another creature before me. Gunshot filled with fire and death, blindingly bright beneath white lights. The mass of color slumped, staining red from the prickling fire. Monster. Just a few more hoofsteps. A doorway before me. Three more bodies behind. Pain swam from every step. Wanted to stop, collapse, sleep. Warmth and weight in my stomach. Pony.
Through the door. Over the bodies. Tables, clean and white. Pristine surroundings. Crosses and butterflies. Safety. Goal. Needed healing. Was here. Couldn’t stop now. Had to make it right. Another step, another pain. Another figure?
Tall, purple, strong. Covered in blood, streaming from cuts and gunshots. Slitted eye swollen, bloodshot and angry. Knife handle jutting painfully from a shoulder. Bandages wrapped all around, stained in blood belonging to her and others. How did I know? Familiar. Focus. Had to focus. Was... Was that me?
A great horror dragged from the nightmares of ponies. My swollen, bloodshot eye was dilated, in sharp contrast to its tightly focused, slitted companion. My muzzle was the wrong shape, bludgeoned by tables and chairs. Fresh cut flesh bared to the world along my neck, places where bullets had burned away my coat. Flames had seared my coat from one flank, soft pink flesh below looked newly grown. The black handle of a knife jutted from one of my shoulders, the pain I felt with every hoofstep. My legs wrapped tightly in bloodsoaked bandages, both mine and others. A monster in the mirror.
Exhaustion and pain made thoughts run together. Medical supplies. Needed medical supplies. Should be easy, my surroundings were obviously identifiable as the medical clinic for the stable. Without hesitation or thought on how I got here I began digging. Needed something to heal me.
Minutes passed as I ransacked the room. Drugs in dozens of different flavors poured into my bags. Part of me protested stealing the medical supplies from these ponies. The more practical part stamped that thought out, these ponies were trying to murder me at every corner.
My focus was fading again. But I found it, a large glass bottle, my PipBuck identifying it as a Super Healing Potion. And something else as well, another recording. This one was tucked far back in one of the closets, behind other supplies. Drink, then listen.
But first there was one more painful thing to do. Twisting around I grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled. Searing agony swam through me as my leg gave out, knife clattering from my lips across the floor, trailing drops of blood. Blood which mixed with the expanding pool of a corpse. A corpse I had made. Not a monster. Just a pony.
My EFS was filled with medical warnings. Dozens of injuries which needed healing. More acquired since the lunch room. I had fought and killed, been harmed in return. A moment of respite. Just a moment. Eyes so heavy. No. Had to drink first. Struggle to my legs. Grab the bottle. Down the contents. One more motion. Collapse. Relax. Activated the recording. Something to focus on while the medicine did its work. Had to get better.
“Success is a wonderful thing. The first three implants have gone without any complications. Someone at Stable-Tec knew what they were doing when they designed these things. The first three implantees are still young, orphans whose parents died before the bombs fell.
“The devices seem to be functional. All three subjects spend hours together without interruption. I can only assume having conversations and sharing thoughts. They’re a little creepy, though. Keep finishing one another’s sentences, or talking all three at once. May have to work on filtering in the future.
“I admit, I was skeptical when the Overmare first came to me with the blueprints. Stable-Tec leaving something like this behind just for us? It seemed bizarre. But she confirmed it, even let me see the original documents on her terminal. Nopony else knows about it but us. Part of the instructions, I assume.
“The Overmare asked me about the possibility of an emergency control system for the implantees. I agree with her, the danger presented should these ponies get out of control could be astronomical. I’ve already begun working on a modified version of the implant which would give anypony with one dominance over the normal implants.
“Two of the maintenance ponies were in today for injuries as well. One of them suffered a head wound from a falling pipe. I think the injury may have left some brain damage. He’s being sustained through life-support and stimulants right now, but without help he’ll most likely die within the month.
“I wonder if these devices could be expanded to do more than just network ponies together. They already have basic cognitive links. Perhaps I could expand them with terminal technology. Save a pony’s life by giving him a new brain. Sounds like something from a bad science fiction movie. But it might just become real, right here.
“Will have to experiment more. All of this is so exciting. The good this could do for Equestria is unfathomable. I’ll begin work on an upgraded implant as soon as I finish the Overmare’s design.”
My body seethed as the medical magic worked upon it. Muscles writhed beneath my skin, knitting themselves back together. The painful swelling in my eye faded. Sharp pain washed through my mouth and it took a moment for me to realize I had regrown two of my teeth. Electrical tingles ran along my nerves, through my muscles, across my whole body. In less time than it took the recording to finish my wounds had faded.
But not my exhaustion. My mind was still heavy and weary. The throbbing pain in my horn remained. The potion had healed my body, but my mind remained fractured and unfocused. Had to stand up. Needed to move on. The recording left me with even more questions. But now I knew where I could find the answers. The Overmare’s office. One more step along a bloody road. One more pain.
Swaying with each step, I clambered back over the corpses I had left in my wake. Back into the hallways. Move onwards. Don’t think about them too much. Survive. Not a monster.
*** *** ***
Staircases. Why did this place have so many staircases? Walking on flat surfaces was bad enough. Climbing stairs over and over was just agony. Somewhere there was a pony laughing at my misery. Part of me wanted to find them and stab them. Not the part I was listening to right now. Brain all fuzzy, making it hard to think properly. Had to stay focused, couldn’t fall asleep yet.
Finding the Overmare’s office proved remarkably easy. Large well-lit displays on walls and ceilings pointed the way. Lots of staircases between me and it. Not many doors, at least. Or many ponies. Two more corpses left in the hallways. Two more deaths. They weren’t even armed, tried to flail at me with hooves and heads. Shot them with the revolver. Shotgun wasn’t working any more.
The doorway was open. The room a wreck. Its brown, rusting walls a sharp contrast to everywhere else in the Stable. Old bones sat half-curled upon the floor, strange metal bits sitting amongst the bones. Past the bones, towards the lockers. Had to be a clue here. A recording. A message. Something. Files, lots of files, words didn’t make any sense. Didn’t mean anything.
The dull green flicker of a terminal monitor pulsed in the corner of my vision. It didn’t take long to connect my PipBuck to it. Give me your secrets. Tell me what happened here. Flickering lights on the screen, text flashing briefly. I didn’t think about what was said, just copied everything. Three audio recordings.
A time to listen, at least briefly. Rest. Where were Arsenal and Requiem? I hadn’t seen any sign of them. Parts of me worried, most of me was too exhausted. I slumped to the floor, staring up at a bank of monitors, half of them broken, the other half showing images from around the Stable.
Ponies working repair, cleaning up corpses, scavenging from the remains I had left behind. Four were in the cafeteria resetting tables, hauling remains away. Even a filly worked to tug the colt I had murdered away. Not a monster. Not a monster. What was happening here?
The oldest of the recordings first. Stable-Tec Orientation. The voice of a mare, filled with a mixture of rage and sorrow, crackled in my ear. Her words slurred slightly, almost drunkenly, voice cracking with pain as she spoke. Had she been crying? Some part of me felt a distant twinge of sorrow at the sound of it.
“My name ish Shcootaloo.
“You know what? This whole thing sucks. From start to finish. Everything. Horrible. Shtables built to save ponies. Hide 'em away. Make 'em fix the world... for us. Nopony should've had to use 'em. Horrible. What are we up to? Sixty? Too many. Too many poniesh in pain.
“What was I saying?" The voice took on a sarcastic tone: "Oh, yes. You’ve been selected as Overmare of one of our esteemed Stables! Congratulations, I hope you’re worth the position... I go over every one of these myself. Shtill isn’t any easier. By the time you hear this, we’re all dead. All of us. The ministries, the cities, everyone. Poof, like one big candle.”
The voice paused, breaking down into sobbing for a few long moments, before slowly recovering.
“You have your instructions. They’re enclosed with this recording. Read them carefully, but take care of the ponies with you. If it becomes a danger, just... stop. Help them. Help them first. Everyone deserves better than this.
“Somepony have mercy upon us. It never gets any easier. Every time. Please... Please make it through this. Rebuild the world -- without the horrors which made all this happen. Bring back the happier days of our youth.
“I... I’m sorry. Good luck.”
The recording cut off abruptly. That was... strange. It didn’t answer any questions at all. If anything it left me with more. The second recording might help a bit. Overmare’s Instructions, had to hope that would do better. A different voice this time. Smooth, clinical, detached. Almost synthetic.
“Enclosed alongside your orientation recording and this recording are a set of blueprints. As the Overmare of Stable 66, it is your duty to make sure these blueprints are implemented properly. The device they describe will help link ponies together, to share thoughts and feelings with one another.
“These devices are very delicate and difficult to manufacture. As such, your Stable has been outfitted with a special repair and assembly station on maintenance level D, where new devices may be created. Stable-Tec cannot replace any lost or broken assembly machines once Omega Level Security Protocols are activated. It is up to you to make sure they remain functional.
“Several experts on pony anatomy and arcanotechnology integration have been assigned to your Stable. Seek them out and recruit their aid in your efforts. The ponies of your Stable will thank you for all you’ve done. Remember: A better Equestria starts with you!”
Machines designed to share thoughts? Implanted in ponies? The other recording had something similar mentioned. But... An emergency override function as well? So tired. Brain wouldn’t focus right. There was something more, something missing here. Third recording, this one was simpler, Overmare’s Log #372.
“Today marks a historic day. The day my Stable opens for the first time. The day when I first set hoof upon the outside world. When I can finally see other ponies. Yes, a momentous occasion! Others shall come, flock to me, dote upon me. The world will see my magnificence the way that my dear followers do. I am certain of it. After all, was I not born to greatness? Do I not deserve my power and position? I am the ruler of Stable 66, by birth and the blessing of the Goddesses. And soon the whole wasteland will look up to me as well!”
The thought that the goddesses blessed this place churned my stomach. Horrific, beyond belief. Terrifying and painful in equal measure. No. This place was awful. Terrifying. Wrong. Not blessed. The ancient skeleton resting in this room. Had she recorded this message? The last Overmare of Stable 66. What happened to her?
My mind wandered, tired and beaten. Without focus it was hard to get anything done. Staring up at those flickering green screens. They changed from position to position, showing many parts of the Stable. Ponies cleaning, ponies painting, ponies repairing, ponies in cells. Wait, what?
Yes, those were definitely ponies in cells. Their doors looked open, flickering lines on the screen. But I could see them clearly. Half a dozen ponies rounded up in one cell, in various states of injury. But the other had only two. A pegasus and a filly. A broken pegasus and a filly desperately trying to hide behind her. Lightning surged through my mind. Requiem and Arsenal! They’d been captured.
I couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t rest yet. But my legs barely wanted to move. Needed to do something. The recording from the clinic. What had it said? Stimulants. They had stimulants. Down through my inventory, had to find them. Needed to be able to move. There, my medical spells and inventory sorter found it swiftly enough. Only four doses. Had to hope it would be enough.
The syringe was large and terrifying. The way it punched through my flesh briefly painful before the rush of energy flowed through me. My nerves lit on fire, my heart pounded, energy surged. Up. Move. Move! Got to move. Run. Find them. On my way, hooves clattering across metal floors. The world tinged red, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Energy, boundless and infinite, ran through my body. Onwards, to save my friends!
*** *** ***
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Rushing, surging, running. Onward, onward. My muscles sang, the pain in my head a dull memory. Everything tinted slightly red, a haze across my vision. Move, move. Bursts of fire and death spat from the revolver in my lips. The ringing howl of dying ponies distant and disconnected. The pesky stinging, biting distortion in my leg as another of the ponies returned fire. Empty pain, so far away.
Awake now. Couldn’t stop. Brain on fire. Burning, burning. Run. Walls streaking, endless halls. Staircase, left, right, straight, left, straight. Run, run. Thump, thump. Heart beat, too loud. Warm wetness on my head, another body hit the floor. Had I impaled that pony? Seemed so. What was wrong with me? Angry, couldn’t stop now, too much energy. Burning up.
Friends in danger. Had to find them. More halls, brilliant lights on signs. Overmare’s Office, Cafeteria, Orchard, Armory... Armory? Distant recognition. Guns, weapons, more weapons. Lots of ponies here. Ponies between me and friends. Had to find weapons. Make it further. Follow the signs. Red path stained upon grey walls. Trail blazed with bodies and death. Hot. So hot.
Doors, doors, lots of doors. So many doors. Why all the doors. Which door, that door? No, wrong door. Ponies making out. Were happy together. Now dead. Trying to kill me. Everypony. Sad. Monster. Move on. More doors. Messages on the walls, blurry messages. Thump, thump. Thunder of hooves, of guns, another red blossom blooms on my coat. Warm, wet, soft pain.
Break the tiny ponies. So easy. Come apart on my hooves. Smash, buck, another body. Move on. Fuzzy all over. Another door. The right door? Pain catching up with me. Searing, got to keep moving. Thump... thump... slower now. Where was I?
A room filled with shelves, weapons hanging from hook boards all around. Dozens of small guns, pistols, automatic weapons, rifles. Enough to stock an entire security force. The ponies knew I was here, why was there so much left behind? Ugh. Head hurt. The throbbing pain from before returning slowly. New pains screaming into my brain with it.
Pulling myself over the threshold I began to search. Take everything I could carry. Rifles, automatic weapons, ammunition. Everything. It would be heavy, weigh me down just a bit, but worth it. Scraps could do something with them. Sell them if nothing else. This place was full of death. So many dead ponies. Not a monster. I wasn’t a monster. Just... Had to save my friends. Please let me save my friends.
My heartbeat was slowing to manageable levels. Still awake, though suddenly wishing I weren’t. Ow. Next time I go on a blind rampage, remember to wear armor. Bullets hurt. Half a dozen new weapons added to my bags. My legs were beginning to ache under the weight of it all. Not going to be able to take much more form this place. But there was something else. Far back behind one of the maintenance tables I spotted it. The grey and black of a recording tape.
Getting my head under the table proved remarkably difficult. Stupid giant horn, sure it was great when I could use it for magic, right now it was just an agonizing annoyance. Clunk, clunk, argh. Finally I managed to spear my horn through the wooden supports and force the tape out enough to grab in my mouth. Another recording from my nameless doctor, it seemed.
Listened while I ran, down the corridors towards maintenance level. My joints were aching again, faint but noticeable, my head throbbing. Had to keep moving. The voice in my ear sounded as stressed as I was. Horrified, lonely.
“It’s all gone wrong. The Overmare has gone mad with power. Once I finished the override controller she insisted on being the next to undergo implantation. I spent hours trying to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. Said if I wouldn’t she’d find someone else who would. It’s all my fault.”
Round a corner, another pony infront of me. Stable barding. My EFS registered them as friendly, but only a moment before it turned hostile. Like it had so many times before here. My legs quaked, eyes filling with tears as I bit down on the weapon in my mouth. The shattering gunfire drowning out part of the message as another body fell. One more corpse in my path. Not a monster. Move on. Don’t think. Thinking hurt.
“- be so stupid? It should have been obvious from the start! They’re all gone now. Dead inside. The Overmare used her controls to take them all away. Turned them into her own little puppets. They’re tearing up the Stable, searching for survivors. I’ve seen them, dragging others away to join the ranks. Why? Why did it come to this? Was this Stable-Tec’s plan from the beginning? To create an army of mindless drones?”
Mindless drones..? Puppets? Exhaustion and pain made my mind fuzzy. He was... talking about the Stable Dwellers, wasn’t he? What happened?
“They’re not ponies now. Not any more. Just... Machines. Machines of flesh and bone. Because of me. They took Misty from me. Broke into our room in the middle of the night, dragged her away. I think the Overmare is leaving me for last. I don’t know why. She’s mad, going on about how she’s building a better world. About how she deserves to rule. How the Ministries never rightfully recognized her, but Stable-Tec did.”
Machines of flesh and bone? Monsters. These ponies were monsters. Mindlessly killing and attacking anypony who came here. Without concern for themselves or others. They were... Just machines. I wasn’t the monster. They were. They were the monsters. Had to find Arsenal and Requiem, save them from this. Tears fell to the floor, everything was blurry now. Down more stairs, can’t stop.
“I should have seen this coming. Should have done something. Should have... Stopped it somehow. Now everyone... Everyone’s just... Gone. Please, if anypony is hearing this, you have to get to the maintenance level! Destroy the machinery there! End this madness. It can’t be allowed to spread past this stable. It’s all my fault.
“Please... Forgive me. *BLAM!* … … …”
The resounding crash of a gunshot ended the message. Nothing but dead air afterwards. Tears stained my cheeks and I ran harder. Another life ended in tragedy. The Overmare had started this. This horror. Stolen the freedom and lives of ponies. Turned them into monsters. They were the monsters. They weren’t even ponies any more. Move on, save everyone.
*** *** ***
The pain was catching up to me. Down the final set of stairs, my legs were aching, head throbbing. It was less now than it used to be, but still immense. Another three healing potions consumed during my travel. More bodies left behind. But I was almost there. My friends were waiting on the other side of this door.
The grinding of metal against metal filled the small hallway. It was so cramped down here, not the right size at all. Why would it be? This place was built to house and save regular ponies. My heart clenched tight at the thought of how many I’d killed. No. No. They weren’t ponies. They were monsters. Just wearing the form of ponies. The only ponies here were down there. They needed me.
The door swung wide, leading out onto a tall overlooking catwalk. The room below was oddly empty. Only a single Stable pony was down there, next to a massive machine which hung from the ceiling. Half a dozen spindly metallic arms with too many joints hung low over a medical table.
A figure was strapped to the table, an orange coated mare with soft green mane and tail. A chunk of her head had been shaved, the fresh pink color of magically regrown flesh visible even from here. She thrashed and screamed, eyes wide. What was wrong with her? My eyes tracked naturally to her flank, her cutie mark a pad lock. A rapidly fading pad lock! Swept away in a wave of sparkling light as she stopped her struggles. The pony by her side disconnecting those bonds. Yes, a chance for her to fight back! But, she didn’t. She rolled to her hooves and began to walk away, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to join these ponies.
My stomach heaved at the thought. This was... This was wrong. All wrong. Monsters, enslaving other ponies, stripping them of their individuality, of what made them special. Tears filled my eyes again, heart clenching tight. My collar hung heavy and cold around my neck. A different feeling this one. Surging through my horn.
Half a step backwards, rush, jump over the railing, wings spread wide. For a moment I was airborne in the large room. Swooping down towards the pony working the machines. A pony who looked up just in time to catch both of my forehooves in her face. The resounding ‘crunch’ of hooves against bone filled the small room. Another monster destroyed. Wasteland a little safer.
“FINALLY! Where have you been!?” A familiar voice cut through the haze in my mind, Arsenal, sitting just behind a flickering energy shield. “Don’t just stare at me! Get this shield down. There’s a terminal over there they’ve been using to control it!” A jab of her hoof directed my attention to the keyboard and monitor just between the two energy cells.
Finally, some hope. Staring up at the screen made my head pound. Ugh. Why didn’t the words make any sense? I hadn’t taken a hit to the head that hard, had I? Come on, focus. You can do this. The machine emitted an angry buzzing noise as I struggled with it. Okay, maybe I can’t do this. “Ugh. I’m going to have to walk you through how to use a basic terminal, aren’t I?” Hey! That wasn’t fair! I’d used terminals before. Just never one quite like this.
For several long minutes I followed Arsenal’s instructions. Step by step, slow and steady, until finally the resounding buzz of the energy field around their cell faded. Arsenal wasted no time at all in getting outside her confines. “Ugh. I go through all the trouble to get that stupid robe, even get it armored, put up with the itching and they take it away from me!” She paused to rub at her chest with a hoof. “Gah. I can still feel the scratching. As for you,” she cast her vision in my direction, “Please, please, please tell me you found my rifle? I don’t want to search this whole stable for her.” Her face melted into a pleading pout.
Hah! Had I found her rifle. Had I found her rifle? A quick check of my PipBuck confirmed that I had indeed found it, a moment later it was back with its rightful owner. “You didn’t really think I’d abandon you down here, did you?” My question was simple enough. These were my friends, right? Ponies who trusted me enough to travel with me. I couldn’t just leave them be. The maimed pegasus offered no answer, instead just clinging her weapon tight and whispering sweet words of reassurance to it. That was just creepy.
Wait... Where was Requiem? She hadn’t been taken had she? No. Nono! N- My fears suddenly interrupted when something small and fast grabbed tightly onto a foreleg. Still wrapped in bloody bandages, soon soaked through with tears as well. Requiem pressed her face against me, clinging to my leg and crying. She was here, with me. Where she should be. Where I should be.
“H-hey! You can’t just leave me here!” Another voice, from the other cell, a pony rushing to the forcefield. An older looking stallion with a soft charcoal coat and blue-grey mane. A ball and chain cutie mark blazed on his flank. He was one of the slavers.
My mind split. Raged with itself. Part of me wanted to leave him. He was a slaver, not worth saving. Less than a pony. Let him suffer what he was doing to others. Let him feel the pain they had felt. But leaving him here, to this? To lose everything? I just... I couldn’t. Nopony, not even a slaver, should have to suffer that fate. Slowly I dipped my head back towards the controls.
A soft groan. “You’re not really going to save him, are you?” Arsenal’s disbelief was hardly surprising. “You killed most of his friends out there! What makes you think he’s not going to try to shoot you the moment he’s free?” Okay, she had a pretty good point.
“I won’t. I won’t! J-just don’t leave me here. Please don’t leave me here. What they’re doin’ here just aint natural. Even Doublethink can’t do this kind of shit. Get me outta here! Please!” Doublethink? The pony outside had used that name. Nnngh. No. Couldn’t leave him. No matter how tempting it was. Repeat the process Arsenal had told me. Easy enough and the second wall fell. “N-now let’s get out of here!”
“Not yet.” There was one more thing we needed to do. What we’d come here for. I wasn’t leaving without the water talisman, “Arsenal? Where would the water talisman be?” Couldn’t leave here empty mouthed. Too many died to make this possible. Too much pain.
Arsenal stowed her weapon back at her side, strange that they’d let her keep her saddle bags. “Somewhere down here in maintenance,” she pointed a hoof towards the piping in the ceiling, “Look for the place where all the pipes come together. That’s where you’ll find it.” I gave a brief nod, we’d have to search a bit. But hopefully not too much opposition down here.
Requiem had taken the time to relocate herself to my back, soft warm tears flowing over my side. She hadn’t cried like this since her home was destroyed. What had these ponies done to her? What... What had I done to her? No, I’d saved her! Made sure she was alright! Don’t think like that, Aurora. You’re better than that.
“We’re going.” Heading towards the doorway, a different one than the one I came in. Arsenal went first, then our new ‘friend’. Stepping through the door I paused, turning about on my hooves. It took me a moment to draw Tom up to eye-level without my magic, grabbing hold of the trigger in my mouth.
*THUNK!*
Tom promptly fell off to one side. Ohno! Scraps was going to kill me if I broke Tom! I might kill me if I broke Tom! A moment of panic passed quickly as I looked down. The scope and trigger mechanism had detached from the main bulk of Tom. It clung to the side of my head through some kind of magical induction. Pre-war technology was weird.
Words began to scrawl across my vision. ‘Combat Missile Launcher Mk. II Prototype “Tom”, interface online. PipBuck Functionality detected, connection established. S.A.T.S. interoperability confirmed. Targeting lock activated.’ What? The words vanished just as fast, a strange new pattern sliding into my vision. A set of small diamond and square, lagging sightly as I cast my vision around. Highlighting other things as they passed over.
Now was not the time to get caught up in what was going on. A momentary grab with my mouth and Tom returned to my flank, a moment later to slip into my targeting spell. Line up Tom with the machine. The little symbols in my vision slowly circling one another until they overlapped completely. ‘Lock confirmed. Fire when ready.’ I bit the pearl trigger.
*SKREEEEE-BOOM!*
A single missile spiraled through the air. At first I feared I might have missed, passed to one side of the machine. Until a white glow swept around the projectile, yanking it suddenly into a new course, turning in the air into the machine. The detonation was deafening, scraps of metal shattered and showered across the room.
“Do you think you could make more noise? I think there might be some surface dwellers who didn’t hear that!” Oh, come on. What did you expect me to do? Shoot it with a pistol! Arsenal was right, though, we had to get out right now. Red markers were already beginning to fill my EFS.
That was all I needed, turning on my hooves to rush down the halls, “Run. We’ll find the water talisman then get out of this horrible, horrible place.” I had my friends back. Had my hope back. The pains of this place seemed infinitely lesser now. Even the aches in my legs were less with Requiem on my back. For her, I’d carry the world.
*** *** ***
“How much longer is this going to take?” The aches and exhaustion were overbearing now. Standing in one place was impossible. Only the pacing was keeping me awake. So tired. Arsenal had been working for what felt like forever. Finding the service room proved surprisingly easy. Getting the Water Talisman out intact, not so much.
Arsenal mumbled something around the screwdriver in her mouth which sounded a lot like ‘When I’m bucking done’, but I was pretty sure I heard her wrong. After all, Arsenal wasn’t the type to swear. Complain, whine, argue and berate, sure. But not swear. Ears were ringing from everything which had happened. Was crashing even harder now than I had before.
Ugh. So tired. Just lay down, close my eyes for a second. No. No! If I did I’d fall asleep. No sleeping. Not yet. Got to get out of here first. Aching all over. Keep moving, don’t fall asleep. The warmth of Requiem clinging to my back was enough. Focus on that. Remember what was worth staying here for.
Our new companion was watching the door nervously, “Are ya sure they’re not comin’ this way?” My eyes were all blurry, but I couldn’t see any sign of them on my EFS, so I was pretty sure. Just a brief nod to him. So tired, had to stay awake. Stay focused. You can do this Aurora, just a little longer, a little further. Once you’re out of here there’ll be a nice long nap waiting for you. Just a little longer...
*SLAM!*
A panel smashed into the hard metal flooring as Arsenal let out a cheer, “Got it! Now let’s get out of here before the locals show up.” She was already heading towards the door. She hadn’t been fighting all this time, hadn’t been expending herself. Of course she was still fresh. Legs felt so heavy. Could barely move.
Down the halls we went, as fast as my legs would carry me, which wasn’t very at the moment. Celestia give me strength, this place was huge. So many staircases. Whoever designed this Stable was a masochist! More hostile ponies between us and our escape. Rushing from side-rooms, lunging with makeshift weapons. Like when I was coming in, too many ponies in our way. The riotous sound of gunfire filling the halls.
Even our new companion was armed with a light pistol. Arsenal had complained about it, naturally. He was a slaver, we couldn’t trust him. But he was also a victim, and wanted out just as badly as we did. Plus I was in no mood to argue, not with her or the part of me which kept insisting I should just shoot him and be done with it.
So tired, had to focus. Stay ahead of what was happening around me. Heh, ahead. Well I was at the front of the group. Only one with an auto-map, after all. Hope I could figure out how to read it properly. Not getting lost in this maze of tunnels sounded wonderful. No, stop, focus. A split in the path, head left. Up more stairs. So tired.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going? This place looks a lot like the halls we were just in!” Arsenal was back to her usual self. I just gave a grunt, rising up another set of stairs towards the atrium. The way out would be easy from there. I’d passed through it on the way in. At least I was pretty sure I had. Memories weren’t working quite right.
Round a corner, five more locals. This time armed with guns. Four adults and a filly. The riot of gunfire which erupted down the hall was deafening. My ears were already ringing, why did they have to be so loud!? My horn felt like it was about to crack from all of it. Two of the adults fell to Arsenal, one vaporized instantly. Another to the gunshots of the former slaver. Had to ask his name later. Had to find- No. Focus. Combat first.
Two more ponies. A mare and a filly. Slipping into my targeting spell was easy, the revolver grasped in my lips warm from repeated firing. A comfortable weight, familiar after hours of running through this madness. For a long, long time I stared at the pair. Were they a family? Were they out for a walk when we interrupted them? Were they here to kill us, or were they just unlucky to be here? Ugh. So tired. Couldn’t focus right.
Tears filled my eyes, taking lives was hard, but this was torture. These ponies were monsters, but they were still ponies. Stable Dwellers, clad in blue and yellow barding. They carried PipBucks like me. Was I like them? Just another monster out here? I... No. I wasn’t. I was here for a reason. To protect, to save, to help. They were... They were the monsters.
My heart clenched tight as I bit the trigger, two shots. Two simple shots down a small corridor. Two more bodies on the ground. A filly and a mare. Maybe a family. I wanted to cry, to sleep, to forget. But couldn’t. Not right now.
Requiem hadn’t moved from my back. Hadn’t fought a single pony here. Was she more afraid of them than the monsters? Or was she just afraid to harm ponies? I wasn’t sure, but something about it made me... Happy. The blood of ponies shouldn’t be on her hooves.
“Y-you... You shot a filly!” Arsenal’s words cut deep, it was bad enough to know I had. Did she really have to point it out directly? “How... How could you? I know they’re dangerous, but... But you could have-!”
“They’re not ponies.” I cut her off. I wish I felt as confident as I tried to sound, “They’re... They’re monsters. Machines of flesh and bone. Horrors which attack and kill anything which comes here. Not ponies. N-not ponies...” each word felt harder to say than the last. They weren’t. They couldn’t be. If they were... What was I? No. Not ponies.
Arsenal stared in disbelief, “You’d better have proof! H-hey, don’t ignore me!” I climbed over the remains, too tired to give her a detailed answer. Move on. Don’t think. Up more stairs, another corner. Another long, empty hallway. There was less resistance now. Had I... Had I really killed enough of these ponies that there were so few remaining? Was that what happened here? Or were they afraid? Did they have the ability to feel fear now? Focus. Just get out. Think later. Recover. You can do this, Aurora. Just a few more rooms. Almost free.
The Atrium was abandoned. That was... strange, to say the least. There’d been so much resistance going in, why wasn’t there anypony around to stop us leaving? My head throbbed, horn felt like it was about to shatter, way too much abuse today. No bodies here, but I didn’t think I’d killed any here either. Almost free. Just one more staircase. My legs ached so badly. Had to get out.
On my back I could feel Requiem clinging tight. She was still crying, even after this long. What had they done to her? What had I done to her? No... Don’t think about that. Just up the stairs. Light streamed through the massive Stable door, sitting open before us. The sun must have been on the horizon, almost directly outside the cave. Soft, cool, fresh air flowed from the opening.
The voices returned. Echoing far away. Flowing easily over my exhausted mind.
“... Think he’ll accept?”
“I hope so, we’re so...”
“... I know just who to …”
“... gonna get one of those?”
“... pack your things …”
“... for the first time, tonight …”
Scattered memories, so far away. Just a little further. Down the stone corridor. Had to keep my mind together, over that last threshold. Soft cool air washed over me, finally free of that horrid place. Sunlight touched my wings, warm and beautiful. Fading swiftly, but so perfect. Freedom.
Now was the time for rest. Time to find a nice place to sleep. Like this patch of dirt, right here, under me. That sounded wonderful. Hello patch of dirt! You’re comfortable. We’ll get along great.
*** *** ***
Cool air blew through my mane. Everything hurt, but not nearly as much as it had before. My horn at least was no longer a splitting train-wreck of pain. Instead it had descended to merely being an over-active jackhammer. The soft smell of smoke filled my nose, accompanied by warmth on one side. A campfire, at a guess. The weight of Requiem pressed against me under one wing, familiar and comforting. I could feel her breathing, ruffling my feathers just a little, enough to give me the beginnings of a smile. Something was still wrong. My legs wouldn’t move quite right, strange. Slowly I opened my eyes to check on them.
What greeted me was a bit of a shock, to say the least. Vast blackness filled one of my eyes, only the slight metal twinge around the edges gave any hint I hadn’t gone completely blind on that side. The barrel of Arsenal’s energy rifle had been positioned directly in front of me. Arsenal herself was resting at the far end, staring down at me. My legs still wouldn’t move right, but I couldn’t see why from where I was laying.
“How could you?” Arsenal’s voice cut my brain like glass, “You shot a filly. Right in front of Requiem! Then... Then you claim they were a monster? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now.” The throbbing in my horn intensified as she yelled at me. Couldn’t she keep it down? Someponies were in pain.
Parts of me parsed what she said. Wanted to stay silent. Just let her shoot me. It’d be less painful that way. I’d murdered and slaughtered and destroyed. Requiem needed me then. Needed me to save her. But now? What was the point? Another part of me insisted that was all wrong. She wanted an explanation, not another corpse on her hooves. I couldn’t do that to Arsenal.
“She was tryin’ ta save us. Th’ little one was shootin’ just like th’ others.” Another voice. The slaver? Why was he still here? Not the time to think about that. Big gun in my face demanded attention. Time to hopefully not get shot.
My voice cracked and groaned, when had my throat gotten so raw? “Not a filly. Just a monster.” Arsenal adjusted her grip on the gun slightly, making it clear she was going to shoot if I didn’t pick my next words very carefully, “Check the... Recordings. On my PipBuck. You’ll understand.” Please, please let her understand. Please. It hurt bad enough knowing what happened. If Arsenal hated me for it... I might just die. Well, literally, with the energy rifle in my face, but figuratively too! That still counts!
For a long moment there was silence, before Arsenal gradually moved away from her gun. I could feel her touching my leg, but it felt distant and disconnected. Had she drugged me in my sleep? I certainly had enough pain killers in my bags. The speaker on my PipBuck crackled to life, beginning to replay the messages from the Stable.
“Overmare came to me today...”
Slowly the pony who was the closest thing I had to a friend returned to her weapon, listening to the recordings. Her expression was hard at first, angry, bitter. But it began to change, bit by bit, as those words replayed. Hatred gave way to recognition, which gave way to sorrow. My heart sank lower and lower listening again. Tears found their way to my eyes, long and slow. Why couldn’t I have just stayed silent?
“*BLAM!* … … …”
I couldn’t suppress a wince at the detonation, even on the recording it was loud enough to send a surge of pain through my horn. For a long moment Arsenal just stared at me in disbelief. I wanted to say something, do something, to make it all right. But my heart wasn’t in it. They were monsters, but that didn’t make me happy they were gone. So many ponies who I couldn’t save. Too many.
Long seconds ground by, Arsenal shifting her gun in her hooves. Tiny wiggles barely away from my eye, kept making me want to blink. She bit her lip, ears folded back as she mulled over what had been heard. “W-well! J-just don’t go doing something like that again!” A ruffle of damaged wings, Arsenal glared down her gun at me. A faint smile worked its way to my lips, at least she was forgiving. The scowl on her face grew heavier, “I’m serious! If you do I might just shoot you myself!” Well, maybe not that forgiving. But that was good too. If I ever did lose myself that badly, maybe she’d be able to do the right thing.
A low whistle from our guest drew my attention away, “Woooh. Ya really know how ta find th’ strangest things. Tell ya what, th’ things in that Stable, ponies ‘r not, were our enemies. They made ‘s that th’ moment we came in. Shot ta pieces, kidnapped. Woulda been like them iffin’ yer friend hadn’t rescued us.” Great, I was being consoled by the slaver. My life had taken such a turn for the better today.
Ugh, suddenly I felt dirty inside. Well, dirtier. Didn’t think that was possible right now. “Why are you still here?” An important question, all things considered. He had a whole wasteland to go crawl to.
“Ain’t got nowhere else ta go. Doublethink’d kill me iffin’ Ah came back w’thout any new slaves. ‘specially iffin’ Ah was th’ only one t’ come back t’all.” A brief pause in his speech, “Plus, figure y’all save m’ life back there. T’wouldn’t be right t’ just go ‘n leave now when yer all hurt.” Consolation and sympathy from the slaver. Grand.
But something about this felt a little odd. “Why would a pony like you care about something like that? You sell other ponies every day.” Arsenal beat me to my own thoughts once again. Was she always that fast, or was I just getting slower?
The yet-unnamed buck snorted derisively, “Not e’ry pony does things cus’n they like t’. Some ‘f us ‘r just tryin’ t’ get by. Used t’ be better. Back ‘n the old man ‘s still in charge. New bitch’s crazier ‘n a whole barrel fulla Alicorns. Present company ‘scued, course.” Even the slaver knew I was nuts. Well, I guess after my outburst this morning anypony would.
Wait. That seemed odd in itself, “How do you know what Alicorns are like..?” Most ponies just wrote us off as monsters, but few of them seemed to actually know much about us. Even I didn’t know much about me!
A long, long pause, “Th’ mad mare ‘s got a whole lotta y’all ‘round. Keeps collectin’ ‘em. Like somekinda guards ‘r pets ‘r somethin’. Uses ‘em t’ hunt down th’ runaways sometimes. ‘r t’ just do what she likes. They’re all weird. Creepy weird. Dunno why. Make me nervous.” Well I couldn’t blame him for that. I was pretty nervous most of the time. But... Other Alicorns. Were they like the one in Manestreet? Sounded odd.
Not good odd, either. Pets to a mad slaver? That couldn’t be right. “How far away is this place..?” There was something more which needed doing. Something which I could help with. Not walking away again. Not when ponies needed help.
“Pleasant Acres ‘s a couple hours walk from here. ‘s easy enough t’ find. Yer not seriously thinkin’ about attackin’ them, are ya? They got like a dozen ‘f you guardin’ that place.” Great, well that wrote ‘frontal assault’ off, then again life was never that simple.
Arsenal cleared her throat audibly, “Aurora, dear, please tell me you’re not planning to haul Requiem off into the middle of a slaver camp.” Well, I wasn’t planning that either!
“No. No I’m not. You and Requiem are going to stay here. Tomorrow morning, our new friend-”
“Iron Clad.” The other pony cut in on his own.
“Right. Iron Clad. Will take me out to this Pleasant Acres place. He’s going to present me to this Doublethink as a pony he captured. And together we’re going to find a way to save everypony there.”
Long, long moments of silence as Arsenal stared at me in disbelief. “That... may be the craziest thing you have ever said! You can’t possibly be serious. She’s insane! And has a dozen Alicorns! You can’t do that. Just stay here, let’s go home. Leave them be. You said it yourself, right, they’re not ponies. Just... Machines.” She didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. “Please, please can we just go back to the Junkyard?”
My head was pounding. Arsenal’s insistence grated heavily on the boarders of my mind. “No.” It hurt, but this was important. I had to do this, and I certainly wasn’t going to take orders from her over something like this either! The whining went on for hours, but I mostly ignored it. Short of shooting me there wasn’t anything Arsenal could say to stop me. This was too important. Not going to leave more ponies behind. More victims.
She was wrong. I was strong.
*** *** ***
Bright, warm sunlight contrasted the decayed state of Pleasant Acres. Dozens of small bungalows surrounded the central courtyard. Every one had its doors barred from the outside and metal grating over the windows. Occasionally I caught sight of forlorn eyes peering from behind ancient cracked glass. A resort turned into a prison.
More disturbing were the figures of other Alicorns, standing passive yet attentive. Balanced upon rooftops and beside the path which Iron Clad now lead me down. They watched me in silence, a few sharing my own dark purple coloration, others near-black blue like the night sky and two an impossibly dark green. They said nothing as we passed, barely even seeming to notice us. More frighteningly most of them were lacking bomb collars. They couldn’t be serving here willingly, could they?
Questions danced at the edge of my mind, forcing me to bite back my tongue. Iron Clad had told me to remain silent, that it was important Doublethink believe I was just a mindless wreck. If I were going to get close enough to her to stop her I’d have to trust him. For now, at least. But something about all this was just bizarre.
The weight of chains upon my legs returned in full force, my collar burning around my neck. No. Now was not the time. I couldn’t fight this many enemies all at once. Shut up, brain. I am not going to do that. No, no, no. Focus on what was going on, on why you were here. Find the one responsible and crush her.
Slowly we approached a large building, easily three stories high, half collapsed. Once the administration office of the resort, now the center for the still-loyal slavers. Standing just outside was a bright yellow unicorn mare with softer blue mane and tail, “You get those unicorns packaged up! Mister Green’s representatives will be here soon, and you know how much he hates to be disappointed.” Two of the Alicorns on the rooftop took to the air at her words, swooping across the complex. For a moment I wanted to spread my wings and join them, find out what they knew, talk to them. I hadn’t even seen another of my kind in person before, and now here they were, working for a slaver? How... How could they?
“Uh. Boss. Ah got ‘nother one for ya.” Iron Clad spoke to the mare as I stared off into space, probably for the best.
My attention slowly drawn back to the pony before us. She looked wrong somehow, though it was only when she got closer I realized why. Her horn was cracked, chipped and damaged, tiny little cracks running along its length.
A sharp, predatory grin spread across her face as she looked me over. Eyeing me like a piece of meat. It made my skin crawl just to be looked at by her that way. Was this how Requiem always felt? If so I could understand why she’d never want somepony else seeing her. It took all my willpower not to buck her face in right there.
“You’ve done well Iron Clad! This one’s even got one of those PipBucks. I’m sure Mister Green will pay especially well for that kind of find. Once we... Tame her.” Tame me? What was she talking about? “After all, am I not the benevolent ruler of Pleasant Acres? Do I not take in the poor, oppressed masses and give them a purpose in life?” This mare was completely insane! Forget waiting, I was going to buck her right now!
I... Why wouldn’t my legs move? “I am the great Doublethink, who rules this camp with an iron horn.” Cold, sadistic laughter rolled over my awareness, “You will do what I tell you to, when I tell you to, and nothing else. Very soon. There’s no other reason for you to exist.”
Her voice throbbed in my head, pounding at my mind. What was happening to me? There was... Something wrong with my mind. Everything was getting all hazy. No! I was... I was somepony now! I should be protecting others, fighting her, not doing what she said! Like... Like a good pony should!
Was I a good pony, though? Images of dead raiders flashed through my mind. The thick, pasty soup I had reduced their leader to clinging to my coat. The warm, wonderfully strong feeling it gave me when I drove my horn through one of them. The way I reveled in watching them die and wanted more.
No... No! I was... I wasn’t like that... I was helping ponies. Protecting them! Protecting them? I had broken into their home, fought with them and slain them for what? Not to protect, but to destroy. For revenge. Parts of me protested, I had gone there for Arsenal, to save her! But if that was why I went, why would I have slaughtered with such enthusiasm.
Not a monster. But... I... I was protecting others. I helped the Applejack’s Rangers! Got them the information they needed, the chance at a new home! But my mind flashed to what Frozen Fog had said. They only lost their home because of me. They died because of me. Lilac would never walk again, because of me. The soft squeaking of her wheelchair screeched against the back of my mind.
I had a reason to live. To carry on. To fight. I had to help others. To protect others. To... To do something positive in the world! Why? Why did I care? What was the point of it all? Was I really trying to help others, or just help myself?
All I had done was spread misery and pain everywhere I went, destroyed homes and slaughtered ponies. Images of the deaths in Stable 66 flashed through my mind. They were monsters! Nothing but monsters! But... Ponies... What had I done there? Was I any better? Killing for what I wanted. No, no. Not true. But it was.
I was... I was living for Requiem. I would protect her. Make her safe. Show her a world where she could be happy. That was... That was worth fighting for, wasn’t it? The happiness of a filly. The life of one. But, how many lives had I sacrificed for hers? How many had died because I wanted to save her? Six lives snuffed out in her home. Five more in the prison. Dozens more in Stable 66. How many more would I kill and write off as protecting my friends? Would I drown her life in blood?
But I had to... To protect her. Protect her? She followed me everywhere! Into the most horrible places. Into danger. Without me she would never have been shot. Never have been captured. Never have been thrown around like a rag doll. Everything I had done since meeting her only put her in greater and greater danger. She was... She was better off if I just disappeared. If she went home with Arsenal. Forgot I ever existed.
My heart clenched tight as my head swam. What was happening? Where were all these thoughts coming from? I... They hurt. It hurt so bad. Why was I even here? Did I think I could really save these ponies? I was a fool, a selfish idiot who existed only for myself. Running away from friends and those who cared for me. I didn’t deserve to live. Didn’t deserve freedom. Darkness collapsed around me, all thoughts falling away.
I was wrong. I was weak.
*** *** ***
Wake up. Move. Help. Guard. Watch. Move again. Gather ponies. Fly. Fight. Kill. Wake up! Come back. Sleep. Wake up. Fly. Walk. Watch. Hurts. Over and over the same actions, blurred by senselessness, empty thoughts. The world was so far away. Sometimes I thought I heard voices, familiar voices, but their words were empty and meaningless. Listen! It was better this way. No more pain or suffering, no more tragedy or loss. I was at peace. Simple, basic, peaceful. Wake up! Walk, rise, fight, capture. Watch. The soft cycle of heat and cold repeated four times.
Watch. Something darted across my vision, small and fast. Moving with just a blur across green grass. Give chase. Run it down, around corners, over boxes, under an awning. Something moved in the shadows. Hooves raised and rained down into the shadows. A figure tumbled into view. Small, broken.
Below me was a small body. Broken in two places. Spine snapped, lower body bent all wrong. Neck twisted, head facing upwards, staring at me with unfocused eyes. Eyes which stared off in two different directions. Unmoving.
Dead.
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 8) New Perk: Large Scale - Your extreme bulk makes wielding larger weapons substantially easier for you than most. You can ready and reload big guns 20% faster than a normal pony and big guns decay 20% slower than other weapons in your care. Remember: You don’t have to be accurate if you have a big enough warhead!
((Again, there is some formatting in this chapter which does not translate well to FiM Fiction. It is recommended you read the chapter here instead. The whole chapter is still included below if you prefer it on FiM Fiction. Sorry. Probably last chapter to do this for a while.))
Chapter Eight: Echoes
“Sometimes even I don’t understand me!”
Regrets are something everypony accumulates. Things we do wrong, wish we could go back and fix. Sometimes they’re immediately obvious, other times they take years to come to realization. But inevitably they exist. The most wonderful feeling in the world is when you get the chance to set them right. To undo your worst mistakes and make things right again.
But sometimes that isn’t possible. When you do something which can never be taken back. A mistake which will haunt you for the rest of your life. A scar left upon your mind, horrible and weighty which you will never be free of. Some regrets weigh us down, hurt us in ways which even time can’t heal. What do you do when you come face to face with those pains? Would you be able to carry on, or let them carry you away, run from the world and everything in it?
*** *** ***
The body of a dead foal stared up at me. Eyes staring off in two different directions. Dead by my hooves. No! What difference did that make? Trespassers were killed or captured. Orders were orders. Simple. Basic. Think! Do what you’re told. What you should do. What you should be. Hurt too much otherwise. It hurt! Tiny dead foal, staring up at me. It was simple. So simple. Not simple!
So why did it hurt? Hurt so much. Good hurt! My blood was cold. My mind ached. A tiny filly, killed by me. So familiar. Should know her. Know who she was. Remember! Why was she here? Came for me? Impossible. No one would come for me. It was better that way. WRONG! Forget me. Forget the world. Safer, happier, better. She was... She was... She was important. Protect! She meant something. Something to care about. Why couldn’t I forget her? No, no. It was... It wasn’t. Live!
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Wake up! A tiny body lay on the ground before me. Those horribly unfocused eyes. A filly? No... Something was wrong. Pay attention! A colt. A tiny colt. His soft green coat stained with hot red blood. What was happening? Who was he? Why was he here? Remember! I.... Where was I?
Sharp white light poured into my eyes, stinging and straining just to see. Cold, hard, metal beneath my hooves. Strangling tightness around my neck and weight of chains tieing me to the floor. Fight! The tiny, broken body lay before me. Resting in a pool of blood. My eyes burned feverishly with tears, streaming down over my muzzle. Wake up! I wanted to scream, to howl, to rage. But the words wouldn’t come, strangled out by my pain.
A hoof flashed across my vision, slamming down beside the tiny body. The sharp white light making the blood red coat effortlessly visible. Barely away from the remains of that child. Rebel! In that instant I wanted to fight, to run, to hold him. My legs pulled tight, but the chains held me in place. Rage! I couldn’t... I couldn’t get to him! No. Nonono! I had to be there! I couldn’t... They couldn’t... My heart didn’t want to beat. My lungs didn’t want to breathe. This couldn’t be real. I couldn’t be here. It had to be a mistake. Remember!
A low, rumbling voice washed over me. A voice drowned out by my tears and sorrow. Listen! My heart took five beats at a time, my eyes wouldn’t focus right. I strained against the chains, their soft tinkling and clanking barely audible. Protect! It took only a moment before that leg flicked, the tiny body sailing across the room. Things seemed to move in slow motion. The tiny body’s legs flopped, head twisting in the air, lifeless and empty, like a toy thrown in a fit of rage. My mind burned. Wake up! Everything felt so empty, pointless. He was gone, why did it still hurt so much? Protect her!
What had happened? How had it come to this? Where was I? What was going on? My mind seethed and raged through it all. Parts of me rebelled, angry and sad. This was... This was important. I had to remember. He was... He was..! He was-
*FWEEEEEEEET!*
*** *** ***
The sound of a whistle shattered my thoughts like a sledgehammer passing through a plate glass window.
The world spun and crashed around me. Or was that just me spinning and crashing in the world? It was hard to tell. My head throbbed, lightning racing up my horn. Sharp, stinging pain in my chin, lights flashing before my eyes. The world a blurry mess around me, incoherent blotches of color and madness swam across my vision.
It hurt, it hurt so badly. What had I been thinking about? There was something important. Something so, so important. I almost had it... Gone now. Like the trailing end of a nightmare. Just the pounding of my heart and the horror which stalked the back of my mind to give it context.
The world slowly began to right itself. Hard, I was laying on something hard and cold. Not metal. Dirt? There was wind, was I outdoors? A gentle breeze washed over me, buffeting my wings. Dark red filled my vision, mixed with tiny splotches of colors. Of course, my eyes were still closed.
Opening my eyes felt like a battle of wills. Parts of me just wanted to lay there, recover, never wake up again. But I had to. Somepony was here. I... I had to come back. Gentle cloudy-grey filled my vision, still unfocused. Cloudy grey and brilliant red. A tiny patch of silver lining in a sea of madness. It... It couldn’t be. I had... Had I?
Slowly my eyes began to focus again, so hard to keep them working. Legs, muzzle, those great big golden eyes. Requiem. Requiem! Right here! She was alive! Wasn’t she? I wasn’t hallucinating again, was I? Please let this be real. Fear ran down my spine like ice. Raise a hoof, slowly, carefully, reaching for her. Touch her. Just a little. Make sure she was really there.
The tiny patch of grey against light brown ground backed away once my eyes were fully open. But not quite fast enough. My hoof touched her, warm and comforting. Sh-she was... She was real. She was here! A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding sighed out. I hadn’t... Hadn’t done something impossible to forgive. She was safe, alive.
In an instant she was in my forelegs, held tightly. Parts of me screamed in protest that this was a dangerous place and I should wait until we were safe. Other parts of me had decided to beat down those parts with clubs. I was voting for continuing to hug her forever. The tiny, warm body clutched tight against my cheek.
I could feel her squirming, trying to get out of my grip. A new fear crept through me as I closed my eyes again, tears pouring from weary eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” slowly letting her go. Hurting her, the horror of accidentally crushing her in my hooves. No. I wouldn’t do that! I couldn’t do that. She... She was fine. She had to be.
An annoyed grunt managed to make it past my inner turmoil, followed swiftly by a resounding ‘thud’, “What do you carry in this thing, boulders!?” Arsenal’s familiar voice worked its way into my mind. She was here too? Of course she was. I told her to look after Requiem. Why wouldn’t she be here?
“Ah reckon y’all got ‘nother few minutes b’fore any uh th’ other Alicorns notice somethin’s wrong.” That was a less familiar voice. Iron Clad. What was he doing here? Why would he be helping us now? Slowly I struggled to get my eyes to open again. The two of them were standing not too far away, staring down at me. My saddle bags resting on the ground before Arsenal’s hooves.
Another heave of effort and I was on my feet again. Shaky, but awake. “What... What happened?” Even as I spoke I wrapped the saddlebags in my magic, returning them to my flanks. Where they belonged. A moment later Requiem had taken her place on my back. Where she belonged. Where we belonged.
Arsenal scowled at me, “You let yourself get taken by that madmare running this place. That’s what happened. You must be more careful. Without Iron Clad you’d still be a mindless slave.” Her voice tightly controlled, struggling to avoid yelling at me. I couldn’t blame her. I deserved it. I deserved much, much worse. My legs wobbled under me. No. No. Stop. Not the time to get depressed.
“How... How long?” How long had I been out? Fear swelled in the depths of my stomach. One week. That was my time-limit. One week before the Applejack’s Rangers left the Junkyard. One week to find water. If I... If I failed them... Failed Scraps... No, I couldn’t!
Arsenal snorted in annoyance, “Three days.” Three days. Two to get to the stable. One between there and here. That meant we only had one day left. We had to be back tomorrow or... No. Think. There’s still more you can do. You can do this Aurora. You can.
There were still ponies trapped here. I had seen faces coming in. That meant slaves. Other slaves, not just Alicorns. Others who needed saving. Couldn’t just walk away, leave them to it all. Couldn’t... Couldn’t make things worse. My head throbbed angrily. Ugh. Couldn’t just lay down and rest now. Save ponies first, breakdown later. “Doublethink?”
“Asleep.” Iron Clad’s response was instant, “She’ll be up inna hour ‘r so. Usually, anyways.” Good. That gave us time. There were bungalows full of slaves. We needed to get them all together and get them out of here, safely. Somehow. No way they could have enough collars for all the slaves here, right?
My mind wrenched around, thoughts streaming together. The other Alicorns hadn’t noticed I was missing. Or that all this had happened at all. That meant there was still a chance. If they thought Doublethink was still controlling me, and Iron Clad was still loyal, then... “I have a p-”
“No.” Arsenal’s answer came more swiftly and sternly than I expected, “Not this time. Aurora, deary, you nearly killed Requiem with that last plan.” Oh. Oh no. That was... I couldn’t have. It... it wasn’t me! It was Doublethink! She made me... made me do those things! But I had wanted to do them, hadn’t I? It was less painful that way. No! Stop thinking like that! “This time, we’re doing things my way. I’ve already worked out a plan with Iron Clad.”
The earth pony nodded his head with just the slightest hints of a grin, “Eeeyup. Y’all ‘r gonna love this. We’re gonna save everypony. Likin’ y’all wanted. An’ here’s how.” Slowly he began to recount his plan. It... wasn’t quite what I was planning, but close enough I wasn’t going to complain. Too many ponies here to just leave them all behind. Far too many.
*** *** ***
Another bungalow door swung open under Iron Clad’s attention. The fourth, only two more and we’d be done. Inside, ponies were panicking, expecting us to drag them away and lock them up somewhere else. The same as it had been in the other three. “Get away from me, you bastard!” A young buck with a mint-green coat shouted at Iron Clad.
“Y’all listen and ya listen good. We’re here t’ set all y’all free. Ya best stay close once yer outta here. Th’ alicorns t’aint gonna attack ya s’ long as yer with us.” It was the same speech he’d given to every other set of slaves. At least a few had made a break for it. I couldn’t even tell if they’d made it away safely, but the lack of screaming gave me hope. Hope that part of me was busily trying to crush under a wave of ‘it’s the wasteland, there is no hope’. Some days I really hated my brain.
Arsenal was standing by my side, keeping watch over the ponies we had already rescued. “Aurora, sweetie, would you please pay attention?” Right, right, not getting distracted was important. Another of the alicorns strode past us, staring at me unblinkingly. She didn’t say anything, barely even seemed to register we were there. There had to be something we could do for them! But... They had to do it for themselves too. If I hadn’t had a reason to come back. I would... No. Stop. Don’t think about that. You’re here now. A quiet sigh of relief from the pegasus at my side, “This is taking far too long.”
A dozen ponies streamed out of the bungalow into our collection. Some were pausing to share hugs, talking to one another, the quiet murmur of ponies filled the courtyard. It was comforting. They weren’t yelling or screaming or panicking. Just... Talking. Nervous talking, terrified talking, but talking. I couldn’t suppress a small smile at that thought. “Don’t blame me. It’s your plan. We could always go with Plan B.” I also couldn’t resist giving Arsenal just a little bit of a jab.
“Ugh. No. Plan B is a terrible idea,” she huffed in irritation, “Plan A will work. You’ll see.” Well I had to hope so. We didn’t actually have a Plan B, after all! Well, not much of one. I don’t think ‘Panic and shoot at anything threatening’ qualifies as a plan. More like... A disaster. Still seemed to be what we spent most of our time doing.
“Y’all finished yammerin’, we’ve got ‘nother t’ open.” Iron Clad trotted past, the ring of keys in his mouth. Where he’d gotten them I still wasn’t certain. He’d had them this morning when they found me, after all. Must have been somewhere in the camp. “Y’all ‘r lucky. Th’ rest ’f the crew’s out tryin’ t’ track down that crazy ghoul.” Crazy ghoul? I only knew one crazy ghoul, and he was a long, long way from here.
We crossed the central yard again towards the next bungalow, “Crazy... Ghoul?” He didn’t seem to want to elaborate on his own, so might as well ask. Who knows, maybe they’d be another ally in all this insanity. Or at least someone I could offer a place to come home to.
Iron Clad nodded silently a moment, “Yeh. She’s been ‘round long ‘s Ah c’n remember. Crazy ghoul, attacks our patrols sometimes. Lotta th’ others ‘r scared o’ her. Claim she’s out for vengeance, ‘r somethin’. That y’all can’t kill ‘er. Just gets right back up when ya shoot ‘er.” He shuddered slightly at the thought, “Never seen ‘er m’self. But th’ old boss ‘n Doublethink both seem t’ believe she’s real. Send patrols huntin’ ‘er into th’ mountains now ‘n then. Think they wanna help th’ boys feel safer.” Finally we arrived at the second to last bungalow. Just a little longer and we’d be able to leave this place.
The ever-growing crowd of ponies behind us murmured quietly at Iron Clad’s tale. Some of them were sharing conspiratorial glances in a way which made me nervous. The last thing we needed now was our entire group of would-have-been slaves deciding to break up and run in every direction at once. None of them were armed. None of them seemed to be wearing those bomb collars, thankfully.
A door slammed open, the sound rolling through the quiet morning air. Odd, Iron Clad wasn’t the type to risk ruining what was supposed to be stealthy with- “Ah! That wonderful morning air! Sundial! Get your flank in gear. You’re missing the beautiful morning.” Oh, no. Make that the second to last thing we needed. Fear ran down my spine as I spun on my hooves, Doublethink was standing on the steps of the office. She looked even more incoherent than before, if that was possible.
“I thought you said she slept in!” Arsenal prodded Iron Clad angrily. The whole crowd was now within inches of full-on panic. This was the pony who had trapped them all here, made them slaves, done whatever she did to me. The thunderous rattle of chains and throbbing heat around my collar was almost unbearable. No. Not now.
Iron Clad was as panicked as everypony else, “Y-yeh. She does. What’s she doin’ awake so early?” Ohnohnohno.
She was coming this way! Another pony rushing down the stairs to her side, Sundial I could only assume, “You’re up early, Miss Doublethink. It’s still an hour before you usually wake up. Are you feeling alright?” Was... Was he really concerned about a psychotic monster who stole other pony’s minds? That... Something about that seemed wrong. Yet right.
Laughter spilled from the blond and blue pony, “Come now, Sundial. It’s a beautiful morning. There’s no need to worry. And it seems someponies have already gathered up all the poor, hurt ponies who need my help in one place!” She seemed positively giddy that we’d brought everyone together. What was she... Wait. Why couldn’t I move my legs? No. Not again. Not again! “Don’t worry my pretty ponies, I’ll save you all. The great Doublethink will heal the wasteland like it should be!”
Heal it? She was insane. She... She had made me happy. No she didn’t! She took my will away! But I was content that way. It was comfortable. No worries, fears or pain. Just do what you’re told and everything would be okay. No! No, no, no! I couldn’t be that. Requiem needed me. She came to help me! Risked her life to save mine! And why did she need to? Because she cared about me. Wouldn’t it be better if she didn’t care about anything? Then she wouldn’t have any reason to risk her life.
Please make it stop. It hurt, like a knife driven through my heart. Requiem... Requiem wouldn’t be happy like that. She would never want to be that. She wanted me. Needed me. I had to protect her! Then I should give in. Fighting it would only mean it took longer before she knew proper happy release. N-no. It couldn’t... I couldn’t... Help me. Somepony help me. Please, help m-
*BLAM!*
Silence reigned over the world, instant and absolute. Around me I could just make out the shapes of ponies panicking, but no noise accompanied it. Before my eyes the that long, cracked orange horn split and shattered. A thousand tiny points of light where once a solid whole had been. The energy field surrounding it imploded instantly.
Nine voices screamed in perfect harmony. Nine beautiful voices sculpted for strength and power. The sound mixed with the ringing in my ears, creating a beautifully horrifying symphony in my mind. I was screaming. Why was I screaming? There was no need to scream. The feelings of horror were suddenly gone. I could move again! And chaos was breaking out everywhere nearby.
Four of the Alicorn guards had taken to the air, screaming and stomping smashing into the roofs of buildings with their shield as the air filled with their incoherent shouts. Four others had taken to the air to flee. Now seemed like an excellent time to take their lead! “RUN!” Arsenal’s voice cut through the den of madness. In a moment we were all running, the ground rushing beneath me.
My head throbbed, the lingering bits of horror remaining behind. Had... Had somepony shot Doublethink? I didn’t have time to even look for her remains. Just run. Run as fast as I could. Requiem was clinging to my neck tightly, shaking all over. Had she been hit with that spell the same as we had? What had she experienced? Had... Had I really subjected her to that madness? Please, Celestia, tell me it wasn’t so. That... I couldn’t live with that.
No. Don’t think about that. Focus on getting everyone out alive first. Rushing along beside the group of ponies on the opposite edge to Iron Clad, “Run for the gates!” The wave of ponies broke over the top of a hill, freedom. Sweet freedom. My heart soared and surged. For once, we’d saved everypony.
Everypony? No. Not everypony. There were still two bungalows full of ponies trapped back there. But there was no way I could go back to save them. In an instant my soaring high crashed back to earth. Two dozen ponies dead, because our plan didn’t work. Tears fought their way towards the surface. No. Not now. When I’m home. When we’re all safe. When things are where they should be. Cry then. Not now.
*** *** ***
Pleasant Acres was far behind us along a broken, tattered road. Small motes of dust rode upon the mid-afternoon breeze. A herd of ponies walked together, the low murmur of voices rolling back and forth through their ranks. Many had been trapped together for days before we rescued them. They knew each other, as much as any slave knows another. I’d caught several eyeing Iron Clad and myself with suspicion. I couldn’t blame them.
More than a dozen had left us shortly after leaving Pleasant Acres. Those who still had homes, or hope of homes, to return to. Parts of me insisted it was stupid to let them go, that they’d get killed or worse. But I wasn’t in any state to stop them, too much fighting already.
Finally one of the ponies stepped up towards me. A young mare with a brilliant white coat and soft pink mane and tail, “Ah... Um. M-miss?” Her voice was shaky and terrified as she stared up at me. All I could do was sink my head lower, my heart falling again. These ponies still thought of me as a monster. Why wouldn’t they?
“W-we... We wanted t-to thank you. F-for saving us.” What? “You... You didn’t have to do that. None of you did.” she lowered her head, kicking at the ground slightly, “A lot of us don’t have anywhere left to go. Th-they sold my brother already. N-not that that’s your fault!” she was quick to apologize for bringing it up. My heart clenched tighter, losing everyone you loved hurt. Hurt more than I could put to words. My mind howled at the thought of it.
All I could do was shake my head, “I just... Did what anypony would do.” Well, what anypony should do. “You... You don’t have to thank me. But, if you really have nowhere left to go, I might know a place.” The Junkyard was going to get busy, fast. But we had water now. And these ponies... I couldn’t just walk away from them now. They needed help. Abandoning them now would be leaving things half-finished. Couldn’t do that.
“R-really?” The hope in her voice almost broke my heart. I wanted to tell her I was certain we could take them in, that we could give them what they needed. But parts of me screamed back that there were no guarantees. There were only more questions in need of answering. “We’ll work hard! Won’t we!?” she called back to the mass of ponies, a resounding sound of stomping hooves came back. Good. If they’d work, then maybe Scraps would accept them.
Arsenal trotted up to the other side of her, looking the mare over, “Well. It seems our home is getting a lot of new additions lately.” she didn’t sound too upset about that, at least, “Could a lady trouble you for your name, if you’re to be the representative of our little band of refugees?” the pegasus gave her best friendly smile, or at least I assumed that was what it was supposed to be, which came off almost condescendingly selfish, “My name is Arsenal. That’s Aurora Borealis. He’s Iron Clad. Silent Requiem would be the one hiding in her mane. You needn’t worry yourself too much about her.” At least Arsenal was efficient. And dealing with the things I didn’t want to.
The young mare stared back at Arsenal, almost more nervous about my companion than me. That... Seemed wrong somehow. “Um... W-well... I’m Rosemary.” she gave a nervous smile again, “Used to be a cook.” A cook? That was surprising. Slowly I plodded onwards, my head throbbing. Didn’t want to get involved in this. My emotions had been tied in enough knots these last few days to last me a lifetime. Let somepony else deal with it.
“Rosemary?” Arsenal trotted along quietly a few moments, “A cook would be a nice addition. I don’t imagine that filthy mechanic knows anything about how to prepare a proper meal,” a tiny shudder ran down her spine, “nor do I have any desire to find out.” Well, at least Arsenal was getting along well enough. She rubbed at her chest again with a hoof, “Ugh. Three days without that awful, awful robe and I can still feel the itching!” Extending a wing she turned her head to gnaw a little along the length of it.
Rosemary blushed profusely at the display, looking away. Was... Was I missing something here? Okay, it was a little odd to see Arsenal act like that in public, but I couldn’t blame her. Itches sucked. Especially itches you couldn’t reach. Sometimes you just had to find something rub against and-
A shout went up from the crowd, followed by several more. Panicked screams which broke my attention away just as a shadow passed overhead. Above us were two large winged shapes, descending rapidly from the sky. Alicorns! One green, one blue, circling the group before swooping down to land before us. In an instant Arsenal and Iron Clad had their weapons out, Tom already drawn and by my side. They weren’t going to take any of these ponies back!
For a moment there was a sense of inevitable doom and horrible tension. Nopony had yet pulled a trigger, the alicorns before us landed and stared at us. No, not us. Me. Staring at me. Before they slowly bowed their heads and kneeled, “Please take us.” I... What? But... What!? “We want you!” Arghtfugh!? Words failed me, even internally. What was that supposed to mean!? Parts of my mind jumped straight towards thoughts I really, really didn’t need to have right now.
A laugh breached Arsenal’s lips, “Oh. Oh!” grin spreading wide, “Aurora... It seems you have some not so secret admirers.” Augh! Why was this happening now!? Why couldn’t just one thing go horribly wrong at a time? My legs threatened to give out under me at the onslaught of laughter and tittering from the crowd of ponies. It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be like that!
The two Alicorns seemed mostly unaware of the ongoing taunts, “Tell us what to do. Please? Help us.” They... Wanted me to give them orders?
“But... You’re free now. You can do whatever you want.” My voice sounded unsure even to my ears. I couldn’t give anypony orders. I could barely manage to give myself orders! This was... I just... What!?
They looked up at me with large, pleading eyes, “Don’t want to be free. Want to be home. Tell us what to do. Don’t want to think. Hurts.” Oh... Oh my. These poor, poor ponies. Maybe I could... But Scraps was going to be so annoyed about all this. But I couldn’t just leave them here. I just...
“Come on, Princess Aurora,” my mind seized up completely at those words. No. Absolutely not. Never, never, never! I was not a princess! There was no way I was worth being called that! The fact that it was Arsenal saying those words was almost more painful than the words themselves, “You’ll take them in. Give them a home. Like you do every stray pony, right?” I... Augh. She was right. I couldn’t refuse them. But... Argh.
My heart sank and my head with it, “J-just... Just follow us.” Plodding onwards towards home. We’d make better time back than out, at least. The route was much more direct from Pleasant Acres, with no towns to distract us along the way. Had to hope we could make it back in time.
The two other alicorns took up positions to either side of me, walking silently with heads held high. Like honor guards. Erk. No. Stupid brain, I hate you! Stop thinking like that.
*** *** ***
The junkyard was much like we left it from the outside. Scraps’ makeshift sign swinging in a gentle breeze. The continuous buzz of her sprite bots washing over the remaining metal. Swallowed up by the resounding clatter of forty ponies climbing over sheet metal. My horn throbbed in pain from the noise. Just a little bit further.
A new building stood within view as we passed into the junkyard proper. Frozen Fog was standing outside lecturing one of the Applejack’s Rangers. No sign of Lilac at the moment, but I wasn’t going to go looking for her. Instead I took a straight line towards Scraps’ workshop. My legs were already threatening to give out after walking all night.
Unthinking, I simply dumped my saddlebags down the chute outside the workshop, then shoved the door open to head in. Scraps had to meet the new arrivals, and I was in no mood to be their spokes-pony today. Rosemary could handle that. Just had to get them together, then I could collapse. Oh, how good that sounded.
No signs of her out in the sales area. Okay, that meant workroom. Another door open and there she was. Prodding at something on her work bench. “Hm?” she looked up at me, “Oh? Back alreadeeeeeEEE!” Purple light surrounded the mechanist as I pulled her from the ground. Floating her behind me on the way back outside. “Hey! Put me down! I am not luggage!” Scraps flailed her legs in irritation.
I was much too tired to spend time on witty replies. The lack of weight on my back was a welcome relief to overly stressed legs already. Just a few more things, then I could go collapse. Back outside, our new refugees had gathered together, the Applejack’s Rangers coming out of their new home to observe. Some of the slaves looked like they might be about to panic. Great. Just what we needed.
Dumping Scraps on the ground rather unceremoniously, I began to recount what I could. “They,” I gestured towards the slaves, “Need a place to stay. You’re going to give them one.” No questions this time. Not abandoning any more ponies. Twenty four dead because of me, that was quite enough. “She,” a jab in Arsenal’s direction, “has the Water Talisman you need. You two can figure out how to set it up.” Didn’t even want to think about that part of the process. My head was already pounding badly enough. “You!” This time I turned towards the other Alicorns, who bowed their heads in reverence to me. Argh. “Are going to listen to her,” a gesture back towards Scraps, “She runs this place. Do what she says, not me.” Please let this work. Please let this work.
The two other alicorns kneeled before of me briefly, “Whatever you say, Princess Aurora.” ARGH! I wanted to scream, but the exhaustion was catching up to me. I could hear Arsenal snickering on her own at their response. Oh, she was going to get hers, someday. Yes she was. But not today.
Rosemary stepped forwards towards Scraps, “Ah... W-we were hoping... We could stay here. Most of us don’t have anywhere left to go. Or anywhere we’d want to.” She lowered her head. The conversations were starting, that was good enough for me. Onward, to bed.
Crossing the yard back to my own tiny house was a chore. My legs screamed with every step, too much walking and not enough resting. Home wasn’t much, barely four walls and a roof, but right now it was like a siren song, irresistibly perfect and beautiful. Shove the door open, collapse on the double mattresses. Mmmm, soft. After three days of sleeping on cold hard rocks, this was like a moment in heaven.
Tears came with ease. Staining my cheeks, flowing over my lips. For a long, long time it was all I wanted to do. Just lay there and cry and cry. The body of a filly hitting the floor in my mind. The twisted, broken remains of a colt jammed up against the edge of a broken counter. The last look of anguish as a stable pony died in a pool of their own blood. An alicorn murdering an entire settlement. Thoughts surged back through my mind over and over.
What had I done? It wasn’t me... Couldn’t be me. But... It was me. I had stolen, I had fought, I had murdered. To kill one pony to save another. My blood ran cold at that thought. Ponies should help each other. Should save each other. Not like this. Over and over, sobbing tears filled the tiny room. It hurt.
Lost to time I laid there, just wanting to sob and be broken. Maybe I could forget it all, drown myself in my own tears. A fitting death for a monster. No, not a monster. I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. Not a monster. Then what was I? Was there a word for a pony who would kill one to save another? Parts of me raged, claimed I had saved as many as I could, that I should be proud any made it back alive. I didn’t want to listen. Just wanted to feel awful for everything I had done.
The soft creak of my door barely penetrated through my broken sobs. My lungs ached, my throat hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. Not the hurt of injury, but the burning sting of tears. For a moment I wanted to just lay there, pretend I hadn’t heard it. But somepony was here, in the room with me. Or at least, probably was. My eyes were still closed. “Go away.” A simple request.
A soft thump and the rush of wind over my muzzle was not the result I expected. A moment later a soft pressure on my cheek from a hard object. Round, flexible. A hoof? Another gentle shove a moment later. Slowly I opened one eye to see who was bothering me. The cloudy grey and brilliant red of Requiem’s form filling my vision almost completely. For once she didn’t squirm or flee from my sight. Instead nudging the storybook sitting by her hooves closer.
Not in the mood. Not now. Wrapping the book in my magic I tossed it across the room where it smashed into a wall with a resounding ‘thunk’. “Not today.” Close my eye again, go back to crying. A few moments later the same rush of wind blew over my muzzle and another set of light taps. Growing stronger this time. Surely she knew I didn’t want to be disturbed. She was a smart filly.
This time I opened both eyes and actually raised my head, just a little. She nudged the book closer, staring up at me. Not sad, but... Determined, her legs shaking just a little bit. Requiem was still terrified of standing in my vision. But here she was, with the book, asking for stories. Even when it hurt her. Even when it hurt me.
Slowly, very slowly, I dipped my head down to pick the book up from the floor. Requiem took the opportunity to throw her forehooves around my muzzle in a hug. Warmth spread through my body, the touch of another not out of anger or hate was so nice. For a long moment I just closed my eyes to bask in that feeling. She needed this. After everything that had happened, I couldn’t just abandon her when she needed someone to be there for her.
The book was propped up in my hooves again, open to a new story. Requiem sitting at my side, sheltered under one of my wings. “Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria there lived six wonderful friends...” Together, in a tiny dark room barely large enough for a bed, we shared a story. It was all worth it.
*** *** ***
The soft smell of smoke drifted through the air. Tiny trails drifting up over top of an ancient toaster. It was amazing these things still worked at all. Then again, with Scraps around I wasn’t certain there was anything which couldn’t be fixed.
A soft ‘pop’ accompanied the toast leaping out of the toaster. Requiem was instantaneous on moving a tiny platter under the crisped bread. It was old preserved bread, a souvenir of our time in Stable 66, stale but edible. Soon the toast joined other plates on a larger serving tray. Sugar Apple Bombs, toast and a pair of gnarled carrots retrieved from the kitchens of Stable 66. It wasn’t fancy, but it was better than nothing. Now all that was left was the drink.
Scraps had been busy all of yesterday dealing with the new arrivals. She hadn’t even had time to begin installing the new water talisman. Breakfast today was my way of making it up to her. Of course, that meant cramming myself into an entirely too small kitchen full of half-reconstructed machines. But it would be worth it if I could get everything just right.
Going through my things again this morning I’d found a sheet of paper, one taken from the kitchen in Stable 66. Hazy memories of collecting something like that drifted through my mind, abutted quickly by the sight of a dead foal. Cold chills ran down my shoulders and spine, surging through my chest. No. Stop. Don’t think about that. You’re a good pony. Focus on that paper in front of you. You can do it.
Balefire Blender
Ingredients: 1 Bottle Sparkle~Cola RAD 1 Bottle Apple Whiskey 1 Tin Mint-Als
Instructions: Mix ingredients in large blender. Blend well until Mint-Als are fully dissolved. Pour results into individual shot-glasses for serving. Best served cold.
So simple even I couldn’t mess this up. Right? Right. Blender first. Thankfully that was amongst the bizarre collection of machines Scraps kept in the cupboards. Alongside a home-made apple cider squeezer. Why would she even keep that? There’s no apples to squeeze!
Blender, check. Sparkle~Cola RAD? Hm. No, didn’t have any of that, and I couldn’t ask Scraps for something from her collection. Not without ruining the surprise. Briefly I considered just taking one from her stash, a sudden inexplicable flash of dread rushing through my veins. No, that would be a terrible idea and could only end in pain and misery.
But I did still have that bottle of Sparkle~Cola Rainbow Crash. That was close enough, right? The rainbow colored liquid poured into the blender with a slight crackling sound. An electric fizzle bubbling through the liquid. Okay, that was a little odd, but couldn’t be too bad.
Let’s see. Apple Whiskey. Horseapples, didn’t have any of that either! What did I have... An ancient bottle of Sweet Apple Acres Apple Cider. Huh. Where did I get that? Wracking my brain for a few long moments I just couldn’t place it. Maybe somewhere in the prison? Sudden flashes of sticky red goo flashed before my eyes. Augh. I wasn’t going to be able to find a single memory which wasn’t horrible at this rate!
Into the batch the cider went. oddly, the rainbow coloration remained mostly intact despite the dark brown crispy liquid being added. The mass churned and swirled slightly as the two liquids mixed. Hm. The smell was actually quite nice. Full, rich and strong apples. With just a little hint of electrical tang and spices.
Now all that was left was Mint-Als. Those I definitely had. Scraps had identified the tin of them from my bags, after all. In a moment the peeled metal container floated over the blender, empty. Half a dozen tiny pills spilling into the liquid, which suddenly began to sputter and bubble around them. Tiny electrical crackles running through the whole mess. Well, that was a little weird. Never seen a drink do that before.
The lid went onto the device easily. A simple switch and the room filled with the screech of a motor. The whole mess swirling rapidly. The way the colors blended together in a spiral yet remained fully separate was almost hypnotizing. Around and around it went, tiny sparks crackling inside the glass container. Another flick of the switch and the machine came to rest once more.
The resulting liquid frothed slightly inside the blender, having formed a rich heady purple foam. I could feel the electric tingle running over my horn as I levitated the container away. A shot glass put out on the serving tray and the whole meal was prepared.
Requiem was eyeing the drink suspiciously. “Oh, don’t you worry. It’s safe!” There was no way that someone in a Stable would deliberately poison others. Not even a place as maddening as that one. Right? Right. Ponies just weren’t supposed to be like that!
A moment later we were off for Scraps’ workroom. The platter floated beside me trapped in a purple magical field. Requiem was on the ground beside me. It was a good morning, all things considered. Just focus on the positive and there would be no problem, right?
“Scraps! I’ve got breakfast!” The grease-covered mare was sitting at her work bench, silencing me with a single hoof. Thankfully not in my mouth this time. The radio was on, an unfamiliar deep voice crackling out of it.
“-seems to be more complicated than that. You see, children, our pretty princess came back from her little adventure with a new pony at her side. A pegasus, if you can believe it. More than that, a pegasus who still had her cutie mark. DJ Pon3’s been around long enough to know what that means. Enclave, and not the regular defector kind either. Now, I don’t know all the details yet, but old DJ Pon3 likes to believe there’s still some good out there. So if you see our little princess and her winged friend? You give them the benefit of the doubt.
“In more depressing news, Berry Patch Vineyards has been hit. Hard. Everypony there has up and gone missing except one. A nice old mare by the name of Violet Strings. Yes, that Violet Strings, my dear listeners. She’s been gracing the airwaves with her music for almost forty years now. Somepony out there better go help her, before things get really bad.
“The sun is shining over Equestria again, Children. Get out there and fight the good fight another day. I’ll be here when you get back.”
A deep, worried frown creased Scraps’ face as the news concluded, “You’re going.” Her words were simple, forceful and unwavering.
Also very confusing. “What? Who’s going where?”
“You’re going. To Berry Patch Vineyards. Today.” Okay. Well that answered my question. But not with any of the information I wanted.
Scraps affixed her goggled gaze up at me as the tray settled on her counter. “Alright. Uh. Do you know where it is?” I sure hadn’t been there! And my PipBuck’s map was horribly incomplete.
“Yes. It’s less than a day from here. I’ll show you where. Then you’re going to get Arsenal and the three of you are going there to help.” Odd. I’d never seen Scraps so... Direct. Or serious for that matter. Was it really bothering her so much?
Well, I couldn’t complain about helping ponies in need, and I definitely wasn’t going to argue with the mare who gave me a place to live, so all I could do was nod. Ask more later. On to find Arsenal, it seemed.
*** *** ***
Voices filled the halls of the Applejack’s Rangers’ barracks. “-asked us for something you could wear. I gave you what we had spare. Are you going to tell me it wasn’t good enough for the Grand Enclave Soldier?” Frozen Fog’s voice rolled through the hallways with irritated authority. The building wasn’t exactly complicated, simple hallways leading towards a single main room with bunks in it. The medical machines were still in storage at the moment, waiting for a proper place for them to be set up.
“An ill-fitted, itchy robe is not what I asked for.” Arsenal’s voice was just as firm in the opposite direction, “If it weren’t for that grubby mechanic it would be no protection at all.” The sound of hooves clanking against metal flooring filled the air, “Much as I loathe to admit it, she is quite good at what she does. You, on the other hoof.” Oh, boy, here we go.
Rounding the corner the pair finally came into view. Fog was seated beside a table containing a flickering terminal. Probably working on something when Arsenal had arrived. He always seemed to find things to occupy himself. Compared to Arsenal he was the picture of self control, as she paced the room ranting angrily at him. Between them was a pile of red and brown cloth mixed with metal plates. Arsenal’s armored robe.
Fog just rolled his eyes, “I suppose you were expecting us to hand over a suit of Steel Ranger armor for your use?” Affixing Arsenal with an annoyed glare as she crossed the room again, “You wanted something to wear, I gave you what we had. It is not my fault that we lost most of our supplies. You should talk to your large friend about that.” Hey! I didn’t do that on purpose either!
Just as I was about to interject, Arsenal answered for me, “Oh no. You are not bringing her into this argument. She is a good pony who risked her life to save mine more than once. She offered you a place to stay without even asking for anything in return. She saved dozens from a life in slavery. You should be proud to even know her name!” Arsenal prodded Fog in the chest as she finished. Those words washed over me with a comforting wave, a soft soothing warmth just from hearing them.
By this point Fog was practically grinding his teeth in irritation, “What. Do. You. Want?” Well at least he was giving it to her in simple terms now. I was surprised neither of them had noticed me, then again they were on the other side of the room and I still hadn’t said anything. Which was good, as I was having enough trouble fighting back laughter from their exchange from here.
A snort and pout was Arsenal’s response at first, until she turned back to chew at the base of one of her wings, in a most unladylike manner. It took a moment for her to begin to recover from that, clearing her throat as her red cheeks turned even deeper red with a blush, “I want to know why I’m still itching after not wearing that abominable thing for two days!” A stomped hoof of annoyance. That, I definitely couldn’t blame her for. But now I was worried too. There were so many things which could go wrong in the wastes.
A brief kick at the robe from Arsenal prompted Fog to bend down and lift it up on one hoof, examining it closely, “Hm? You didn’t bother to wash this before wearing it? Tsk, tsk, I would have thought that you would know better than to use ‘muckdweller’ clothing without checking first.” a smarmy grin spread across his face, he was definitely enjoying this.
Anger filled Arsenal’s face, “Wash it? Wash it!? There’s no running water you arrogant buffoon!” Her wings managed to make it half way to being fully outstretched before a wince of flashed over her muzzle, “I am a lady. I do not wear filthy, unkempt clothing unless I have to. You might be used to passing around horrid rags, but where I come from ponies know the importance of proper hygiene.” Her wings were fully folded again. My heart sank a little at that display. Much as I might resemble a monster, my body was still my body. Losing a part of it like that, one you’d had your whole life? I couldn’t begin to imagine how painful that must be.
Fog shoved the robe back at Arsenal’s face, so she could get a proper look at it. “You. Have. Fleas.” The grin spread a bit wider, breaking into soft chuckles, “And no, I didn’t know the robe had fleas in it before I gave it to you. Though if I had...” he trailed off. Fleas? Really? I had to fight back laughter again. That seemed so sad, but at the same time with the way Arsenal constantly fussed over everything around her, she hadn’t noticed fleas on her potential clothing?
In an instant Arsenal slumped to the floor, slack-jawed, “Fleas..?” rubbing at her chest with a forehoof without even thinking about it, “I have fleas..? Like... Like some common beggar..? Has my life really sunk that far..?” she pouted, looking like she was on the edge of tears. After all the complaining, all the places we’d been, being shot at, beaten, starved and shackled, THIS was what made her want to break down? Fleas? Really? This time I really couldn’t suppress a laugh.
In that moment both of them finally recognized I was there. Fog’s laugh accompanied my own while Arsenal just fixed me with a death glare and slumped towards the floor again, “Fine. Laugh. I deserve it. A grounded, crippled pegasus. Overshadowed by a goo-covered muckdweller. Covered in biting, itching fleas. I’m so patheeetiihiihiihic!” that last word stretched out as she threw her head back in frustration.
With that outburst my laughter died. Did it... Really mean that much to her? “You’re not pathetic. You just need to... Adjust. That’s all. I’m sure you’ll be fine!” Not that my voice sounded at all sure of that, even my heart sank just a little as she stared at me incredulously, “W-well anyway. Scraps wants us to head out to this place called Berry Patch Vineyards. They’ve been hit by something and we’re going to find out what.” Change the subject quick, maybe she’d forget her problems. It worked for me!
A long sigh escaped Arsenal’s lips, “Fine... I guess I can’t trust you to go somewhere alone anyway.” gathering up the robe in her teeth to drag it away, “But this better be important.” Well, how should I know if it was? I walked alongside Arsenal back outside where Requiem was waiting. Now that we were all together again it was time to move on. The trip wouldn’t take too long, at least. “This itching is going to drive me insane. Do you know how hard it is to...”
Please don’t let this trip take too long.
*** *** ***
An ancient wooden sign swung in the gentle breeze, hanging from a long rusted chain. One of the two chains had snapped, leaving the sign almost completely vertical. ‘Berry Patch Vineyards’ was carved into the wood, abutted on either side by a stylized image of grapes and strawberries. The sign hung from a large gate, the fences it once connected to now long gone.
“Aurora, you take me to all the nicest places.” Arsenal had continued her complaints nearly the entire trip here. Thankfully it had only taken a few hours, the nice warm mid-afternoon sun coming down across the town. The bright light making the wreckage of town all the more stark in contrast.
I just snorted in response, “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.” my heart sank at the state of the settlement. Even from here I could see half-collapsed stone structures, but no signs of any ponies left alive. Press onwards and find out what happened here. “But since you are here, why don’t you keep your eyes out for any signs of trouble?” Not that I really expected Arsenal to be the first one to spot problems.
Requiem shifted slightly and hopped down off my back as we passed through the archway. The town itself was still some distance away, surrounded by overgrown fields of deformed fruit. Moss-covered cobblestone made up the walkway we were now following. Somewhere in that town was a survivor, if the radio was to be believed. Somepony who needed help.
An odd, nostalgic feeling wormed its way through my mind as we walked the path, dredging up distant feelings of fear and pain. I had been here before, once upon a time. Or at least I think I had. My heart sank at that thought, another place which was just a distant echo of who I once was. Staring down at the path as we walked onwards, my past wasn’t why we were here.
Arsenal had continued speaking even as my mind wandered, “-like I had any reason to stay behind. That insufferable, arrogant unicorn. Nnnnh! He gave me a robe covered in fleas. FLEAS!” She was still on about that? Okay, okay, I could understand why. But we were here on a rescue mission! At least let it go for-
I spotted something odd on one of the moss covered stones as we walked past. A marking, half-covered by the overgrowth, purple and blue stars. A moment’s effort had scraped the moss away to reveal the same six stars I had seen before. But why here in the middle of a road? A brief glance around showed no signs of anything else carrying that mark.
“Why would..?” my thoughts congealed quickly, if this was the marking that meant something was here. Something important. Another message, maybe, or a pointer towards wherever ‘home’ was for the preacher. My mind seethed, I had to find it. A step back and the dark purple glow of my horn mirrored that around the stone. Wrenching it free proved remarkably easy, it wasn’t packed in as tightly as the other stones.
A tiny gap had been dug out beneath it. Filled with the lid of a small box. Just a moment more and the box was open, another familiar data tape within. Bearing that same marking. Two alicorns, chasing each other around the sun and moon, surrounded by six gems. It was so familiar, so close. Why couldn’t I place it? This should be the simplest thing in the whole world to understand!
Throbbing pain surged through my head, the whirling cacophony of meaningless sounds and shapes flashing through my mind. I needed something, anything, to drown out that madness before it swept me away again. Sliding the recording into my PipBuck I mashed the controls to begin playing. This time I didn’t have my earbloom on, and all three of us got to listen to the recording as we pressed onwards.
“Blessed be the Goddesses and the Six. May their path lead us back towards greatness and their lessons mark our way.”
Those familiar words were exhausted, angry and sad. Dripping with sarcastic irony. The three of us passed the outer rim of buildings, into the town proper. The grey and green stones which made up the streets had been painted red with spilled blood. Bodies warming in the afternoon sun. I wanted to pull Requiem away, make her not see it all, make it all go away. But she was already out ahead of me, beginning to search the remains. Celestia, what was wrong with this world?
“Berry Patch Vineyards. Our last stop before home. A tiny collection of stone and plants in the shadow of a mountain. Filled with ponies who won’t listen. They never listen. Everywhere we go, just deaf ears and angry stares. Nopony wants peace.”
My heart sank at those words. How much had this pony seen? How far had she traveled to come here? How many dead did she leave behind? I didn’t know, but the pain in her voice was obvious. So close to breaking and falling forever.
Slowly I picked my way through the corpses, following after Requiem as she dragged bottlecaps and ammunition from pouches. She didn’t even seem perturbed by the dead. Luna, please tell me that it wasn’t me who had taught her this. That it wasn’t because of me she was like this. She... I... I’d do anything to make that part of her life right.
“My hooves are stained with blood. Not enough water to wash them. The oppressive storm-clouds overhead haven’t given us any in days. Never before did I believe I would be wishing for the long, endless rains of the wasteland. But today I feel dirty, inside and out. Blood stains my coat and my mind, and it feels good.”
For the briefest of moments I could see myself, standing over the cooling remains of the dead raider leader, a pony who’s name I didn’t even know. The feeling of blood and muscle slurry clinging to my coat. The powerful, unquestionable feeling of superiority from destroying something which so very much needed it rushing through my veins. It had felt good, it had felt right.
In my distraction one of my hooves came down upon a corpse, the soft compression of dead muscle beneath my weight dragging me back to reality. A quick step backwards before I crushed the poor pony. A white mare with blue and grey mane and tail. What had been her name? Had she deserved to die? Did anypony deserve to die? My stomach rolled fitfully, it shouldn’t feel good to kill ponies, even evil ponies.
“I never thought the skills I learned as a hobby would be so important to survival. Last night I crushed a raider’s head with one of my hooves. It was easy, he had no idea how to defend himself once I was that close. Pitiless, violent marauders, but utterly lacking in anything but the most basic combat skills.
“It’s been months now since I started killing. Every time it gets a little easier. Every time a little faster. The blood doesn’t even bother me. Their last desperate gasp as they realize they’re about to die almost musical. They deserve it, earned their own destruction through corruption and hate. I... I’m just the messenger. But it still feels good.”
Slowly we walked together through the town. Arsenal was silent, listening to the recording just as intently as I was. It was surprising to see her show so much respect for anypony, let alone a pony she didn’t even know. Down abandoned streets stained with blood. There was no sign of this Violet Strings, at least no obvious one, yet. She was supposed to be here, somewhere. We just had to find her.
The voice carried my mind away again, back to the deaths in Stable 66. It had hurt so badly when it started, barely able to even defend myself. But with every body it got easier. Every life stolen made the next just a little simpler. They were monsters. They didn’t deserve to be saved. I wasn’t a monster. I was just a pony. But that didn’t make what I did right. Just... Necessary.
“Celestia, please forgive me for my trespasses upon the lives of others, however deserving. Luna, let my actions die with time and be swallowed up by the night. Just one more stop. One more hopeless mission. Then home.”
The recording ended abruptly. Silently I offered a simple prayer that this pony, whoever she was, had found peace. Maybe somewhere she was living a happy life. Or her descendants knew the joy of a safe world. Just... Something to make it all worth while. Something to make everything she endured worth it.
Requiem rounded a corner before us. “Earth Bound? Is that you? You’re late! You’ve been gone much too long this time.” characteristic silence as I glanced towards Arsenal, the both of us speeding up to catch Requiem, “What’s the matter? Why don’t you speak to your granny?”
We rounded the corner together. An elderly mare, mane completely grey, stood before Requiem. Her eyes where flat, white orbs, no signs of either pupils or irises. Her once dark blue coat had faded with age, now looking washed out and flat. A simple characterized mark of a violin upon her flank. Violet Strings, the sole survivor of Berry Patch Vineyards. An old, blind mare who had lost her grand daughter and town.
Requiem was backing away quickly, until she bumped into my legs. Even the blind pony worried her? Well, I’d be worried too if someone were mistaking me for another pony. “Um... Miss? You’re Violet Strings, right?” My own voice shaky, the short wave of panic from the shouting washing away. I had to hope she was alright. Was she really unaware of what had happened here?
“Eh? Do I know you?” The blind mare turned her head towards me, ears swiveling around quickly. In a moment she was closer, though thankfully not quite close enough to actually touch me, “You have to help me!” Well, that was what we were here for, “My Soil is missing!” Her... What?
A quick glance around confirmed that, yes, there was still dirt on the ground here. So either this old mare was even crazier than I was, or she was talking about something else. Opening my mouth to ask another question, Arsenal jumped my response once again, “Soil? Are you crazy? There’s more dirt in this place than I’ve seen in years!” Great. Accuse the old lady we’re here to help of actually being crazy. Out loud. Someday I was going to buy her a gag.
Instantly her attention shifted towards my friend, “Dirt? Not dirt. Soil! My grand daughter. Earth Bound. She’s gone missing. And now nopony wants to answer their doors or help!” Was... Was she really unaware of the state of the rest of the town? It looked like someone had killed almost everypony here! “Last night there was some big racket going on. I sent her out to find out what and she never came back. You’ve got to help me!”
Her grand-daughter. Another foal, like Requiem? She was old enough they might well have been Arsenal’s age. But... The way she acted. My heart sank as I stared at one of the dead bodies in the street. The warm afternoon sun glinting off drying blood, “We’ll help. However we can.” I wasn’t sure how to help, but I’d do whatever I could.
“There was supposed to be a caravan coming this morning. But they never showed up neither.” Violet’s voice sank in concern, “I thought maybe Soil had gone off to meet them outside town. Sometimes they don’t always come this far. But she’s still not back. Should have been back by now.” tears were beginning to well up in those big white eyes, “Please. You’ve got to find her. Just bring back my Soil.”
Beside me Requiem tugged on my hair, glancing around the streets then shaking her head. She hadn’t seen the body of a foal anywhere on our way into town. That gave me a small measure of hope. Maybe, just maybe, whatever happened to these ponies had spared her. With no idea where they were going, there was only one thing I could think to try. Had to hope it worked. “Arsenal, how much do you trust me?”
*** *** ***
The rush of air whipped through my mane. For perhaps the first time its natural ripples actually looked natural. My wings beat open air, climbing higher and higher over the remains of the Berry Patch Vineyards. Warm afternoon sun looming high overhead. Requiem had shuffled up to my head, her tiny legs looped around my ears and clinging tight as we ascended. Arsenal’s position was slightly less comforting, wrapped in the bright purple of my levitation field.
“NOT THIS MUCH!” Arsenal shouted at me as we rose, “You are out of your mind!” She squirmed about inside my levitation field, which was making it just a little bit difficult to keep her aloft, “If you drop me I’m coming back to haunt you!” Oh, now there was a horrifying threat. Being perpetually whined at for all eternity by the ghost of my best friend.
Finally I stopped my ascent, wings spread wide to begin circling the town, “Just hold still and keep your eyes open. If the attack came last night, they must have a camp or something not too far away. Somewhere they’d return to.” Plus, if there was a caravan on the way, we should be able to see them too from here. This was the highest I had ever flown, far up above the world. Everything looked so tiny from here. Well, more tiny than normal.
The squiggling snaky paths of ancient roads cut through long-dead forests far below. Far on the horizon I could just make out the ruins of South-End Junction, over a day’s walk away. The smoke of burned bodies had long since vanished. Even the thick trail from the further prison wasn’t visible any more. Not what I was looking for.
After a few minutes Requiem patted my head and shoved her hoof just barely into my vision. Following her direction guided my eyes towards a building. A giant pink building which resembled some kind of castle. It looked utterly out of place along the skyline of the wasteland. An odd apparition of older times.
At almost the same time Arsenal gave another shout, “I can see a caravan down there!” shoving a hoof in another direction. Sure enough, there was the signs of a set of wagons, all laid out together in a line. But they weren’t moving, just laying some distance away from one of the roads in a tiny clearing amongst long dead trees. “Doesn’t look like anypony’s down there.” Oh, ponyfeathers. Please let us not be too late.
A beat of my wings and I turned in the sky, descending like a purple comet towards the ground. Down, down, down. Wind ripped over my ears and I could feel Requiem clinging tight. She wasn’t shaking or crying or doing anything. Just... Holding on tight. I could hear her heart beating faster and faster as we approached the ground. Parts of me wanted to believe she was loving the ride. Other parts insisted I was terrifying the poor foal. By comparison Arsenal had spread her wings as far as she could, seemingly taking some comfort in pretending she could still fly even if it was with my assistance. Either that or preparing to glide to safety when I inevitably failed my descent. One of the two.
My hooves dug deep into the soft ground at my impact. Landing at a canter, it took me a few moments to finally overcome momentum and come to a full stop. My heart was surging in my chest, breath coming rapidly, the exhilarating feeling of flight and descent still lingering in my mind. Slowly beginning to come down from that feeling, it was no wonder Arsenal was so sad to lose that freedom.
The sound of a clearing throat brought my attention back to Arsenal, still floating just off the ground, “You can put me down now.” A blush and my magic dissipated, dumping her onto the ground in a somewhat less than ceremonious fashion. “Thank you.” She trotted past, towards the caravan proper.
This wasn’t a recent caravan. It looked ancient. The metal wagons covered in a layer of rust, their wheels having sunk into the ground. None of them were going to be moving any time soon. Burn marks scoured bits of metal and wood on the wagons. Charred skeletons sat amongst stunted grass, blades growing up between rib bones.
“This isn’t what we’re looking for...” It was true, we weren’t originally looking for this place. But it was curious none the less. Slowly I began to poke through the various ancient wagons. Most had been ruined by rain and animals. But one caught my eye. A three-colored star pattern on its side, familiar half of the six stars I had seen on each of the Preacher’s markings. But this one was half-burned off.
My heart thundered in my ears as I stepped closer. A burned skeleton was sitting in the back of that wagon. This was... It couldn’t be, could it? Beside the body was a small metal box, which seemed to have weathered the years beneath snow and rain without harm. Two winged unicorns chasing eachother around the sun and moon surrounded by six stars, the vivid colors painted across the lid of the box were unmistakable.
Slowly, carefully, I levitated the box from its resting place, barely disturbing the remains. It was sealed, locked with the same form of electronic lock Tom was secured with. Slowly I floated it over to Arsenal, who was filtering through an ancient foot-locker, having found a set of carefully folded clothes. They had to have been out here for decades or more, yet the way her eyes were lit up matched the massive grin on her face.
“Arsenal... What are you doing?” I had never seen her this excited to find something since we came across unclaimed foodstuffs in Manestreet. And this? This was a grubby set of ancient clothing, barely fit to be used as rags now. It seemed unthinkable that she’d want to take them.
Arsenal just huffed, “I don’t expect you to understand what a find this is.” she took the dress from its resting place slowly, carefully. It was festooned with gems which had once shined brilliantly, now stained with accumulated rain water. The fabric had been stained from a soft blue-grey to an almost muddy brown. For a moment I thought it might fall apart in her hooves. “This is a masterpiece. Some cleaning, a little care, it’ll be good as new. And it’s all mine!” she was already folding it up to place in her saddle bags.
Well, she was right about one thing, I really didn’t understand her obsession with that piece of clothing. It seemed like she’d be better off going naked than wearing a dress which had been sealed in a footlocker in the outdoors for so long. But I wasn’t going to argue with something which made her so happy. “I found a box. Do you think you can open it?” Levitating the crate out in front of her.
On my back I could feel Requiem shifting around. She didn’t seem to like it here, not even wanting to get down and go searching. That was surprising, given how open she’d been to searching the dead before. But right now that symbol was consuming all of my thoughts. I had to know what was in that box.
Once the dress was in her bags, Arsenal’s attention turned towards my box, “Hm? Shouldn’t be too hard. Let’s see...” She pulled that device from her bags she had before, connecting it to the box and began working. Her grin slowly faded into a smile, then a creased brow and stare, before finally devolving into her grinding her teeth together over the course of several long minutes. “I... I don’t think I can do it. Who made this thing!? Not even the Ministries usually use security like this!” she smacked the box with a hoof in irritation.
Ponyfeathers. If Arsenal couldn’t open it, then what was I going to do? The only other ponies I knew who might have some hope of it were still back at the Junkyard. Seemed I’d have to take it with me to get my answers from it. A moment to find a place to fit it in my bags and we were ready to leave again. “We’ll head towards that castle thing. It’s the only other place I could see where they might have gone.” Pinning all my hopes on an unknown. It seemed like a terrible idea, but right now I was out of options.
A moment later we were back in the air again, Arsenal’s joy of finding her new dress overcoming her fear of being dropped. The massive grin on her face buoyed my own heart upwards. We would find a way to make this right. I was sure of it.
*** *** ***
Tattered banners fluttered from long cross-poles in front of pink stonework walls. The ragged banners were black with red edging, once sporting a stylized white eye with a red iris at their center. Somepony had come and crudely spray-painted over the eye, replacing it with a fanciful six pointed star. The paint was peeling from the way the fabric stretched and moved in the wind, revealing bits and pieces of the under image.
The image of a red eye upon a black field send slight shudders down my spine. Parts of my mind seethed in quiet rage at its existence here. The reasoning was lost upon me, but this was a bad image. The star painted over it meant nothing to me, giving a small measure of pleasure to see the original image defaced so.
Two of these banners sat at angles to either side of a large archway made of pink stone. The top of the arch had been carved with the words ‘Pinkie’s Party Palace! Laugh, Play, Scream!’ Quiet chills ran down my spine as I read those words, making my stomach clench and my legs feel wobbly. It made no sense, there was absolutely no reason they meant anything to me, was there?
We passed under the archway in careful time. Requiem was at my side, sticking low and seeking cover wherever she could find it. Arsenal was at my other flank, her magical energy rifle gripped tightly in her mouth. At least it kept her quiet. The last thing we needed right now was giving away our position with shouting.
Beyond the pink stone walls was a large camp. Dozens of tents in a myriad of colors and designs had been erected in the large courtyard. Surrounding a single massive bonfire pit. The shuffling of ponies between tents was obvious even from here. It wouldn’t take more than a few moments before they were aware we were here anyway, it seemed.
By my side floated an assault rifle, like the one I had first acquired in South-End Junction. This time I had ammunition to spare, stolen from the Stable 66 armory, and a willingness to use it. These ponies had murdered a town, had stolen a child, had that awful sign hanging outside their fortress. Other pikes had been erected within the walls, the remains of ponies hanging from them, tied up by their hooves.
The rattle of chains deafened by ears. The searing heat returned beneath my collar. These were bad ponies. Evil ponies. They didn’t deserve to live. Horrible monstrous blights upon equinity. My mind surged as the brilliant light of my shield surrounded me. My legs moved without thinking, even as Arsenal waved a hoof in surprise. The battle was on.
*BLAMAMAMAMAM!*
Automatic weapon fire filled the courtyard as my targeting spell slipped away. Three ponies dropped to my first burst, they hadn’t even realized we were here yet as they fell. Chaos erupted through the camp, a sudden stampede of ponies in every direction. Some pulled weapons, bullets ricochetting off my shield to bury themselves in soft earth. Others fled for cover in the tents.
The distinctive sound of Arsenal’s weapon filled the air nearby. Out of the corner of my eye I could just see the pink glow of a pony vanishing into ash, the tent they were standing in front of bursting into flames. Good. One less horror in the world. They were horrors, weren’t they?
Tracking another target with my E.F.S. my eyes passed over a dessicated corpse swinging from a pole. Once a mare, tied by her forehooves and left out in the sun. Her bleached coat and unkempt mane made it clear. She’d been here for a long, long time. Dieing slowly of exposure and lack of food or water. At least the raiders had the courtesy to kill ponies quickly. These were even worse.
Pain lanced through my flank. Familiar pain, hot and sharp, searing flesh and digging through muscles. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of gunfire as another pony fell. Her rushing form tumbling to the ground as her leg came to a stop far ahead of her torso. Another violent detonation of firearms and a second sharp, horrid pain through my leg made me stumble.
My vision tracked towards the source of those sounds, a sniper far up above the camp on a tower of wood and metal. His massive firearm latched to the edge of the tower, slowly tracking me down a scope. My horn surged, preparing to come and fight him myself, but never got the chance. A figure leaped down upon him, tiny and fast. Instantly he vanished beneath the lip of the sniper’s nest. Part of me sent a silent prayer that Requiem was still the innocent filly she should be, that dissenting voice instead happy she had learned to take care of herself.
The thick smoke from burning tents streamed into the sky as shouts passed back and forth across the yard. My leg was burning, aching from the bullet wounds. It took only a moment to dig a healing potion from my bags, something we were thankfully not short on any more. The pain lessened, but the surging feelings of anger and desperation did not.
Slipping into my targeting spell my gun spat fire and death again, another two ponies falling beneath inaccurate weight of fire. They weren’t even wearing armor, dieing choking on their own blood. Onwards I rushed through the camp. Somewhere nearby a detonation ripped the sky, the flames became ten times worse. “Take that you sick bastards!” Arsenal’s voice rose above the gunfire and screaming. She must have hit something important.
The remaining opponents were fleeing now. Heading for the main doors of the palace. Pink light scorched the air and another fell, burning and screaming, into nothing but a pile of glowing ash. My gun clicked empty as I gunned down yet another. They weren’t even fighting back now, flames and death were everywhere. A tiny grey blur took the legs out from under another, a moment later the body ceasing its twitching.
The last pony vanished through the large doors of the stonework building before us, slamming them closed. Even as I rushed as fast as my injured leg would let me, the doors shut just as I reached them. A solid thump into their hardened exterior left my head spinning.
For a moment I bucked and kicked at the metal doors, but couldn’t even make a dent in them with my hooves. No! They weren’t going to get away! There was a pony here to save! She wouldn’t end up like that mare. I wouldn’t let that happen! My heart beat faster and faster, the brilliant red glow of my eyes reflecting off even the dull grey metal of the door.
Finally Arsenal caught up with me in the midst of my tantrum, “We can’t just let them get away!” No, really? “You still have that missile launcher, don’t you? Do something with it!” I had the sudden overwhelming urge to plant my hooves on my face. Of course I still had Tom. I still had one more missile, at that. And this? This was worth it.
Backing away I took deep breaths. The thick smoke of burning tents and the sound of detonating munitions rioted through the air behind me. Just a moment and Tom was free of his confines, text scrolling across my vision as his automated systems began to come online. I didn’t need them this time, the door was a stationary target. Effortless to hit.
*SKREEEE-BOOM!*
The detonation seemed to rock the whole world. My ears rang as the ground span beneath me. Only the fact that I had all four hooves under me was enough to keep me upright. The doorway was shoved off its hinges, dented inwards and practically shattered. Whoever designed this place was obviously not expecting high explosives as a means of entry.
Darkness filled the halls inside. The three of us rushed past the entryway searching for escaping enemies and an innocent taken prisoner. Parts of me were protesting all of this, once again I was putting the life of one pony ahead of the lives of dozens. But these ponies didn’t deserve life. They weren’t worth being ponies. They weren’t.
*** *** ***
Rousing marching music rolled through pink stone hallways. Smaller hallways split off in various directions, ratty black and red banners like the ones outside the gates decorating the walls. Flickering white lights, half of them burned out, provided feeble illumination. Muddy hoofprints lead in every direction from the entrance, trailed by our enemies.
Laughter filtered through the music. Not cruel, horrid, cold laughter, but genuinely amused laughter. A giggling, snorting laughter which stirred distant happy memories. A gnawing, uncomfortable feeling accompanied those thoughts, chewing at the back of my mind and sending chills running up my legs. Something was wrong about that laugh. Or wrong with me. It made me feel nauseous and lonely just hearing it.
Without much pause I surged down the central hallway. With no idea where we were going or what would await us there was not many other choices to make. Oboes and drums accompanied the sound of our hoof-falls as we moved, the winding pink corridors opening into dozens of smaller rooms. Kiosks for rides and games flashing at the corners of my vision.
*BLAM!*BLAM!*BZZZARK!*
A pony leaped from a side room, opening fire on us without hesitation. Two rounds cut their way through my shield, grazing across my shoulder with a stinging irritation. A single shot from Arsenal’s weapon sent the pony sprawling to the floor in pain, suddenly missing one of his legs. His eyes wide and pupils tiny as he bled out.
Splosh, splosh, hooves passing through still warm blood as we continued. They were in here somewhere. Up ahead I spotted the flank of a pony fleeing down a side corridor. A quick turn at the corner and we were after them. The winding procession of corridors suddenly met and descended a staircase. At the bottom were a set of ticket booths and old, broken, turnstiles. This place had been an amusement park once. Full of happy, friendly ponies who loved and laughed and played.
A large poster was plastered to the wall. ‘Love the Palace? Visit Pinkie Pie’s Funny Farm! What the Grand Galloping Gala should have been, every day. Forever!’ The stylized image of a large pink barn with a family of laughing ponies outside it dominated the center of the poster. That name ground at my mind. Pinkie Pie. I should know that name. It was important.
The flash of movement at the corner of my eye brought my attention back to the present as we passed those ancient, broken turnstiles. Laughter filled the air again as a shimmering pink image suddenly flickered into existence before us. An aged pink pony, her curly mane streaked with lines of grey, stood at the entrance of a winding path. My mind seized up, heart falling through the floor, slow creeping dread worming its way up my spine before she spoke
“HiI’mPinkiePiebetchacan’tcatchmenoponycancatchmeI’mjusttoogood!” Her words came at an almost impossible to follow pace, spilling over my confused mind moments before she turned and started running down the corridors. No! No, come back! My heart ceased entirely, not wanting to beat. My legs pulled me forwards, into dark corridors. She wasn’t real, I knew that, but it hurt so much. I couldn’t... I couldn’t lose her again!
Somewhere far away I heard Arsenal’s voice, like listening to a pony calling from the bottom of a well. Tears clouded my eyes and my vision swam. For a moment I could see green fields, hear the rousing marching music and dozens of colored spots. A pink pony leading a parade of parasprites away. It was distant and fading, lasting only the faintest moment. Enough to make me push on further.
*THUD!*
A pony landed directly in my path. Grey upon grey, a fire ax gripped in her mouth. I didn’t even slow down, hooves raised high as I trampled over her. The satisfying snapping crunch of her neck sent shivers down my spine. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. Nopony should enjoy killing another. But I had to catch up to Pinkie and these ponies were in my way. They were monsters! They deserved to die! Surely a pony should feel good about ridding the world of an evil, shouldn’t they? Parts of me screamed in pain and rage at that idea.
The corridors twisted and winded, every one built to look like every other. This was a maze, a maze I was rapidly growing further and further entrenched in. Behind me I could hear the distinctive sound of Arsenal’s weapon. She was still keeping up with me. That pink apparition in front of me bouncing along on her hooves with seemingly no effort. Of course it took her no effort, she wasn’t really here!
Still my stomach churned as she rounded a corner. No. Don’t let her go! Another of the armed ponies sprang from a trap door in the floor. A half-dozen assault rifle rounds emptied into the floor and only two struck him. One cleanly passing through a large eye as he fell screaming beneath the trap door. Another life taken in a moment of effortless ease.
My vision blurred and seethed, the world swam around me. I was somewhere else, brutal and violent dance music resounded through my mind. Indistinct angry words spilled from my lips. The pink pony before me bounced giddily, speaking quickly with words which made no sense. In anger I smashed a tin off the table and watched as she scrambled to collect the contents. They were bad, bad for her, bad for me, bad for Equestria.
A searing pain ran through my heart. The vision vanished again, leaving only emptiness and sorrow. “No... Don’t go... Don’t go...” Rounding another corner there were two more of these ponies. I lowered my horn and charged. Couldn’t lose momentum now. Horn cutting easily through flesh as I impaled one’s neck, twisting a moment to get myself free. The other opened fire as I passed their far side. Pain lanced through my other flank, but nothing compared to the pain in my chest. Requiem and Arsenal were behind me, they could handle the clean up.
Laughter filtered over the screams of dieing ponies. “You’regoodbutI’mbetter!” Pinkie’s voice interrupted the music as the hologram paused in her running. I was almost there! I could catch her! She winked towards me, “Haveagreatday!” vanishing instantly as I sailed cleanly past where she had been. I hadn’t even seen the doors on the far side, my vision so fixated on her shimmering image. Skidding towards a halt.
One of my hooves caught on the edge of the door frame, sending me tumbling over the other side and sprawling down the hallway. Wings spread and flapped in panic, crushed beneath me and the floor. Coat against polished stone, all that rushing momentum spent slipping further along.
*SMASH!*
The force of my impact on one of the old walls was enough to send cracks running along its length. Somepony must have cut corners building this place. My flanks ached, my wing hurt, a trail of dark purple feathers spread along the hall behind me from where I was laying as a chunk of wall collapsed over top of me. Suddenly buried under bricks and mortar. So heavy. Tears were flowing freely now. She was gone again. The searing pain in my chest twisted again.
She was gone. And it was my fault. I wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t strong enough. But... Was I? I didn’t know her, so why did I keep feeling I cared so much? Parts of me chewed angrily at the others. Fighting inside my head as the weight of bricks pinned me to the floor. It wouldn’t have been hard to get free, but I didn’t want freedom at that moment.
“Aurora!?” Arsenal’s voice cut through my mind, she must have caught up finally. A shocked gasp audible a moment later, “W-what?” What was she looking at that I couldn’t see from here? My vision was limited by my position, barely making out a metallic room on the far side of the wall. “WHAT!?” her voice rose in volume.
An unfamiliar voice cut down the hall, deep and gravelly and angry, “You bitches! You’re ruining everything! You’re the ones who were killing my soldiers. I finally found my damned ticket out of this hellhole and now you show up to spoil it all!?” A terrified squeal grated on my mind, the scream of a child in danger. It cut above the marching music I could still hear. Through the haze of my sorrow. Someone was in danger. They needed help!
My vision filled with white, the world imploding around me. A moment later I was standing near the door, the pile of bricks I had been under collapsing a moment later. There they were. An older stallion with a revolver in his mouth pointed at the head of a tiny pegasus filly. She squirmed in fear as he held her tight against his chest. For a moment I could barely move, any movement and he’d surely shoot the child. No. No! Somepony had to-
“How dare you?” Arsenal’s voice was quiet for once, but the force was enough to stop my thoughts, “How dare you!?” Taking a step forwards with her ears folded back, I could just make out the way her wings pushed on her robe. “HOW DARE YOU!?” she sprang in a single sailing leap, the leader of the these ponies fired a single round at her in desperation before she landed atop him, a swift hoof to his jaw sending the weapon flying as the child landed nearby.
Arsenal raised her hoof again, “A soldier does not kidnap!” Down it came with a resounding crack, “A soldier does not steal!” another swift smash, “A soldier does not torture!” Back and forth she alternated her hooves, her robe pushed outwards even by her crippled wings, “A soldier does not murder!” One more swift kick to his jaw before he finally got his legs under her and bucked her. For a moment Arsenal sailed through the air to crash back in the hallway again as the leader struggled to his feet.
Blood ran from his nose as he spat loose teeth from his mouth, “What does a fucking whore like you know about what it means to be a soldier!? I was one of Red Eye’s best leaders! He trusted me with this place and no pony else.” he was climbing over the wrecked wall now, “And now you come to take it away!? They were going to pay me for the filly. Enough to retire forever. You... You cunts! I’ll kill you!” He rushed down the hallway towards Arsenal.
*BZZZARK!*
He made it barely half way down the hall before a flash of pink light reduced him to nothing but ash. Arsenal was still on her back, breathing heavily, as she finished her tirade, “A soldier fights. To protect ponies.” She finally rolled over onto her hooves.
For a long moment there was relative silence, the pegasus filly slowly climbing up over the demolished walls. She rushed down the hallway to press a hug against Arsenal’s leg. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Tears welling up in her eyes as she pressed her cheek against the brown under robe, “Y-you’re... You’re a hero! Right?” The little pegasus stared up at Arsenal in disbelief, she had a pretty sun-yellow coat with a mixture of green and blue in her mane.
Arsenal slowly patted the child on the head, obviously not used to having ponies treat her at all that way. “Just a soldier. Doing her job.” She gave a feeble smile. I think that was the first time I had ever seen Arsenal pass on the chance to talk herself up. She was always so enthusiastic about making herself look better. But now she had a real, genuine chance to do better and she... didn’t. How odd.
Still, pride surged in my heart over that vision. Requiem had returned to my side and her gentle nudge reminded me of where we were. A moment to clear my throat brought all eyes back to me, “Not to complain about this heart-felt moment of joy. But perhaps we should get out of here before more of them show up?” I wasn’t keen on going back through that maze. Not if it meant facing Pinkie Pie again. The twisting knife in my chest was still there, slowly fading under waves of joy, but I didn’t want to feel that way again. Not now, not ever.
“Yeah. Yeah!” Arsenal stood tall, “Come on, Earth Bound, right?” She looked down to the filly, who nodded enthusiastically, “We’re going to take you home to your granny. Don’t you worry.” A moment later we were off again. Going out was much easier than coming in, the exit of the maze had sent us back near the main doors. Only two more ponies were foolish enough to stand between us and freedom.
The camp outside had been burning merrily since we left it. Thick black smoke clouds filling the skies, the bodies of the dead burning to ashes and leaving nothing but fine powder in its wake. “Come on Requiem. Earthbound. I’ll carry you back.” Soon enough I had two fillies riding side by side on my back, Arsenal floating through the air beside me. The wonderful freedom of flight and the distance with those memories making my heart beat easier. Just a little more and we’d be home again.
Home again. Where we belonged.
*** *** ***
The brief freedom of flight never lasted long enough. Soon we were over the Berry Patch Vineyards again. Earth Bound pointed towards a larger stone structure, a great metal tree stretching towards the sky beside it, “There it is! That’s granny’s house!” Descent towards her home was swift and violent, but overwhelmingly enjoyable. The wind in my mane, rushing over my feathers, whipping through my tail and across my legs. It was wonderful, freeing, perfect.
Within seconds we were back on the ground, standing before the large stone structure. The tiny pegasus leaped from my back and scrambled towards the door, “Granny! Granny! I’m home!” smacking her hoof against it, “Some brave ponies came and rescued me! It was awesome!” the door opened to the elderly blue and grey mare.
Instantly she pulled Earth Bound into a tight hug with her forelegs, “Soil. You shouldn’t go running off like that! It’s dangerous.” The sight of the blind mare and her grand daughter filled my chest with a quiet warmth, wonderful and fulfilling. “Your friends are still here, right?” The filly nodded, cheek pressed to her grandmother’s chest, “Good. You all should come in and rest for a spell. I want to thank you properly for saving my dear, precious Soil.” She backed out of the door to make room.
The thought of actually being actively invited inside was wonderful. Parts of me wondered whether Violet Strings would still be so accepting of my presence if she could see me. Would she hate me if she knew what I was? Fear me? Would she try to save her grand daughter from me? Those thoughts lingered in the back of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to stomp them out.
Arsenal headed inside first, followed swiftly by Requiem. Ducking my head below the door-frame, I followed. The interior of the house wasn’t far removed from the exterior, run down and dusty, wooden floors covered in ancient decaying furniture, old windows with yellowed glass. For the most part what I had come to expect from the wasteland.
But not entirely so. Arsenal spotted it first, and her disbelieving gaze brought mine in the same direction. One side room was filled with electronics, flickering lights and glowing gems. The window of that room looked directly out upon the massive metal tree I had spotted on the way in. From the ceiling a microphone hung down before a small three-legged stool. A violin sat on a small stand within hoof’s reach.
“What is all that..?” Arsenal asked the question first as we passed the room, “I didn’t think anypony down here would have a setup that thorough.” She had paused at the door, staring into the room in disbelief. Was it really that surprising? The only place I had seen anything like it was the radio station the Applejack’s Rangers had sent me to. Which was itself an impressive fact.
Violet stopped in her path towards the kitchen, “Hm? What? Oh! You must mean my broadcaster.” She seemed quite pleased with herself for figuring that out without being told, “A long, long time ago a few good ponies passed through town. They stayed here a few days. Most of them were just traders, but there was one pair. A priestess, who kept going on about how important it was to ‘live up to the virtues’ and other such nonsense.”
My mind wandered at those words, the Virtues? Parts of me insisted those were important. But I couldn’t place why. My mind throbbed angrily, threatening to lose itself in madness again. Instead I forced those thoughts away, better to listen to what was being said right now.
“The other was some kind of technology expert. Never met a mare quite like her. She sat down and listened to me play my violin one day. Said it was beautiful, that the whole wasteland should hear it.” She gave a brief laugh which ended in a cough, “Still makes my heart feel good to think somepony likes it that much. She spent a whole week gathering up all the resources she could to build me that transmission system. Still surprised it works. Never met another pony like her.”
A master of technology who could build a home-made transmission array in a week? That idea seemed almost unbelievable even to me. Maybe the old mare was going senile. But... There was truth in her words anyway. The Preacher and Makeshift had been here. Had left their hoofprints on this town. Then... My mind flashed back to the burned wreckage of a destroyed caravan. Had they died just that close to home? It didn’t seem fair. But the wasteland rarely was.
Requiem was eyeing that room as well. But not the recording, she was staring at the violin in silence. A musical filly who might never again make music. The idea just felt so wrong. I wanted to wrap her up close, hold her tight, give her the encouragement she needed to do something amazing with herself. But she would just squirm away, run from me, if I tried. So the darker parts of my mind insisted. It wasn’t fair.
“Soil? Go get granny’s box from under the bed.” My attention was pulled away back to our hosts as the tiny pegasus rushed up the stairs, “Come on in and sit down. I want to give you a gift and thank you properly.” Ducking below the door I entered her dining room. It wasn’t really big enough, between me and the table almost all the free space was taken up.
I dipped my head lower, “I’m... Not worth thanking.” My voice was quiet, almost silent. I felt hoarse, almost dead inside. I hadn’t saved her child, I had nearly gotten her grand-daughter shot. Worse, I had been so preoccupied with my own concerns that I just stood and watched while it happened.
The thump of a hoof on her table, “Nonsense. You brought my grand-daughter back to me. And... You sound like a pony who could really use this one. It’s inspired me a long, long time. I hope it can do the same for you!” Earth Bound trotted back down the stairs, a large brown box on her back, dropping it beside Violet, “Ah. Thank you Soil.”
“You’re welcome granny! I’m going to go start packing our things, ‘kay?” She seemed remarkably chipper. Especially after we explained how important it was that she and her grandmother move out on the way back here. She understood they couldn’t remain behind, not after what had happened.
Violet nodded her head sadly, “Alright deary. I... I know we can’t stay. They did something horrible to everyone else.” Had she found one of the bodies? “We’ll find a new home.” dipping her head low into the box she pulled something small out of it, setting it on the table, “But first, a gift.” pushing the tiny object towards me.
A small cyan pegasus, reared up on her back hooves, with a rainbow colored mane. The tiny cutie mark of a cloud with rainbow lightning coming out of it clear on her flank. ‘Be Awesome!’ and been engraved in the base. The same pegasus in the photograph from the library. Rainbow Dash.
My mind churned. Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, the Virtues. The world span and shuddered, my heart fluttering painfully. It meant something. Meant something so, so important. Why couldn’t I remember? Just lingering too far away. But I had to have her, the memories she stirred were too important to ignore. Even if I didn’t really deserve it, I couldn’t pass her now.
Carefully I wrapped my magic around the tiny figurine, lifting it from the table. A strange electrical surge running along my spine. Wonderful, comforting feelings of confidence brewing in my chest just by proximity. Like a tiny voice whispering in my ear ‘You can do it!’. The parts of me which recognized her were happy at that voice. Reinforcing another bit of my mind, the part which kept insisting I was more, I was better, I deserved more. That hurt.
A moment later and the statuette was in my bag, next to the photograph and the book. A fragment of a memory. A piece of history important to me. Why I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t let them go.
“She’s been in my family for a long, long time. But I think you deserve her. Never seen her myself, but just having her nearby made me feel better. You seem like you could use feeling better.” The elderly mare smiled warmly to me, a comforting gesture.
Arsenal raised her voice, “I’m going to start disassembling this transmission system. I think I can get most of the important parts out. Take them home with us.” She pranced back and forth on her hooves in excitement, pulling tools from her bags to begin work.
“Home?” Violet Strings seemed surprised at that idea, “We’re leaving here. Can’t stay with nopony around, too dangerous. But where are you all going?”
“I know a place. It’s not far. If you have a cart, we can take you with us.” My own voice wasn’t very confident. Carrying four ponies and an entire array of equipment seemed like a terrible risk. But... I couldn’t abandon these two here. Twenty four ponies were dead because of me not being able to save them. I wouldn’t leave two ponies I could save to an uncertain fate. Not now.
Violet just smiled, “Well, there was one the general store used for deliveries. I guess they won’t be using it any more. Come on.” she stood from the table, carefully and slowly walking through the house again with me behind her. Time to get strapped in and ready to go.
*** *** ***
My wings beat open air beneath a rainbow colored sky. The twilight sun staining the heavens in beautiful stripes of color. It had taken hours to give the townsponies proper burials, otherwise we would have been home well before the sun set. The added weight of a cart made flying harder and slower, but no less enjoyable. Requiem clung to my head with a death-grip; at least she wasn’t shaking, for once. The Junkyard was within sight now, almost home. Just a little further, then I could rest.
Behind me, crammed together in the cart, were Arsenal, Violet Strings and Earth Bound. Boxes filled with their prized possessions surrounding them. They had been talking since we left the Vineyard. “... So is she really your grand daughter?” Arsenal’s tact was still as non-existent as ever, leaving me to fight the urge to face hoof even if I wasn’t involved in the conversation. Blind pilots were not good pilots.
“Of course she is!” Violet’s irritated denial came with the tone of one forced to answer that question far too often, “I was there when she was born. Her mother, Celestia rest her soul, died having her. So don’t you go accusing her of not really being my grand daughter!” A shift in the weight of the cart forced me to change my flying rhythm. For a moment I wanted to look back and find out what was going on, but my lack of confidence in my flying abilities kept me staring at the ground. Crashing would be very bad.
“Oh...” Arsenal’s voice was quiet a long, long moment, “... I’m sorry.” Wait, what? Arsenal, apologizing? Really? For a moment I wracked my mind, but I couldn’t think of a single other time she had actually apologized to anyone. “Why ‘Earth Bound’?” I had to admit, I was curious on that too. I didn’t know many pegasi, just one really, but pegasi could fly, right? Well, normal ones could anyway, so why would you name one something like Earth Bound?
This time it was Earth Bound who answered the question, “Cus daddy used to say I’d always be earth bound. Never get to see above the clouds.” her voice was devoid of the selfish anger or sorrow one might expect from an adult at that idea, “That I’d never be able to fly. There’s no pegasi around to teach me how.” Well, I certainly wasn’t going to be able to teach her, I barely knew how to fly myself! “Well... Until you, anyway.”
Arsenal let out a surprised squeak as the weight in the cart shifted again, not as dramatically this time, thankfully. After a long moment of silence the crippled pegasus responded, “Do you want to learn to fly? I could teach you how.” Her voice was nervous, was there something she hadn’t told me? “I mean, I was a pretty good flier, for my class.” Ah, that was more what I expected, bravado and confidence. Well, that or whining.
“Really?” Sudden repeated shifts in weight made the cart wobble just a bit in the air. “Reallyreallyreally?” Earth Bound’s excited voice picked up speed quickly, “Oooh, thank you! You’re the most awesome pegasus ever!” Another sudden shift in weight and another, louder, squeak of surprise from Arsenal.
“Yes, really... I’ll teach you as much as I can. I promise. Just calm down. I can’t teach you anything if we fall out of the air before getting home!” I wasn’t really going to drop them, well, probably not. And home was right there.
“Yesyesyesyesyes!” More excited shifts in weight as I began the long descent towards the ground.
Down below I could see ponies gathered around the clearing of the junkyard. Or the newly established central clearing, in any case. Scraps had been busy it seemed. A large patch of what had once been piles of junk had been cleared away in favor of metal flooring. Dozens of small shacks like the one I lived in had been erected around that central square. The beginnings of several larger buildings sat half-finished in the evening sun.
But the most important object in that square was the large fountain. Fresh, clean water bubbled up from the center to flow down into a large bowl, easily big enough for a dozen ponies to drink from at once. Scraps had gotten the water talisman working. Maybe with some time and effort we might actually have indoor plumbing in the yard. For now, public water was good enough.
“We’re here!” My own voice cut over the wind as my hooves touched metal, the cart landing behind me with a resounding ‘thump’. I may have taken the landing just a little hard, but we all made it in one piece and today that was good enough. Two more ponies brought to a safe place. Not enough to make up for my mistakes, but it still made me feel good.
Dozens of ponies were gathered around the square, letting out a cheer at our arrival. Surely they couldn’t have just been waiting for me, could they? In a moment ponies were on hand to help get Violet Strings off of the cart, carrying away the masses of personal belongings towards a small house. How had they known we were coming?
Scraps trotted up, an insufferably proud grin on her face, as Arsenal came around to help me get unhooked, “Took you long enough to get back! And you brought friends, too.” she tossed her head in the direction of the workshop, “Come on in. I want to hear what happened. All of it.” that was odd, I’d never seen her particularly interested in my adventures before.
Now freed of my bindings I followed her inside. Slowly and cautiously. It was time to explain what had happened, or at least what of it made sense.
*** *** ***
My PipBuck hummed and chirped, transferring information onto Scraps’ terminal. Her uneaten breakfast from this morning still sitting, cold, on the counter. She’d had an awful busy day. The room had been silent since I finished explaining. Scraps just staring at me incredulously, before finally breaking the silence. “I see. And this box you found, you still have it?” What? Did she think I’d lost it?
“Of course. It’s in my bags.” Which she currently had, as well. Funny, though, she’d never shown any particular interest in the things I found except from a practical standpoint. She had even paid me for the recording tapes from Stable 66, after all.
Scraps ducked under the table and heaved the small metal box up onto it, “It means something to you, right? That’s reason enough to get it open.” For a second she fished under the table for a small device. It wasn’t quite like what Arsenal used to deal with terminals. It looked like it was welded together from half a dozen other pieces of machinery. Then again, almost everything Scraps owned was like that.
All I could give was a numb nod. That symbol fixed my gaze. It was so important, stirring painful but pleasant feelings in the back of my mind. If only I could track them all down. Find them all. Maybe I could find some part of what it all meant. It had to mean something. Something vitally important. So why couldn’t I remember?
It took only a moment for the lid to pop open. Scraps was good, that box had stymied Arsenal effortlessly. The two of us were alone in the room, Arsenal was off with Earth Bound somewhere and Requiem had settled down outside listening to Violet Strings play her violin for the town. Even in here the soft sound of her playing just penetrated the walls.
Only two things were in the box. Hard to believe they were important enough to be worth sealing up behind such tight security, at first. One was a robe, folded up it looked black. The other a recorder, like the others I’d found.
The moment I pulled the robe free of the box it unfurled. Half of it was a dark midnight blue, the other half a beautiful gold. Tiny flecks of metal had been sewn into the darkness, shining like stars under the light. At its center was the familiar pattern of two Alicorns, chasing each other around a half-sun, half-moon. Each side illuminated by its respective body.
My mind reeled and seized up angrily. For a long, long moment all I could do was stare at that robe as it hung in the air. Tears fought their way to the surface, spilling from my eyes unbidden. Why did seeing this thing hurt so much? It was... Something which mattered. Something lost, then found again. But it wasn’t mine, it was someone else’s. Worse, it was wrong somehow. It didn’t look quite right. The hoof-stitching on the alicorns easy to see. The tiny patches in the robe where it had been pierced by bullets and blades. It was important, but it hurt so much to look at.
Closing my eyes tight I dropped the robe. Not mine. Not my past. Important, so very important, but not my past. That symbol meant something, something so vital. For a moment I could hear laughter, feel soft soil beneath my hooves, hear gentle words of kindness and love. Then back to reality again. No! It was so close! My mind scrambled to find that place again, but it was lost. The madness of my past swirled around me, visions of a dozen childhoods which made no sense together.
Scraps had pulled the recording from the box, slipping it into my PipBuck of her own accord and activated the replay function. A familiar voice crackled to life in the small room, silencing my tears. Drowning my sorrow. The voice was different this time. Still older, still tired, but happy, hopeful.
“Blessed be the Goddesses and the Six. May their path lead us back towards greatness and their lessons mark our way.
“We left the vineyard today. A week’s stay in a happy little town, then away again. Always away again, but this time towards home. It was so nice to see happy ponies, ponies who weren’t afraid for their life. They didn’t listen, they never listen, but they were polite. They were kind. That was good enough for once.
“Violet Strings played her violin for us when we first arrived. Makeshift was so taken with it she spent all week collecting junk and haggling with our own caravan for supplies so she could build a transmission tower! I can hear her working on one of those old radios even now. I’m sure she’ll get it working.
“More good news. We met some nomad ponies today. They were lost and low on food, but were nice enough. I convinced Happy Trails to take them in, share some of our food with them, give them a map. Maybe they’ll come the rest of the way home with us. Find a nice safe place to stay.
“They sat down for my sermon this evening. For the first time in months somepony other than Makeshift actually sat to listen to what I had to say. It felt good. I think... I think maybe I finally got through to somepony. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll leave something resembling an impact on this horrible world.
“It’s late now. Time for me to go to bed. I’ll continue this recording tomorrow, when I get the chance.”
The recording ended abruptly. For a long, long time the room was silent. The burned, destroyed wreckage of that caravan made the answer all too clear. Something must have gone horribly wrong, a journey ended before it could find proper fruition. What had killed them? Why had it happened? Questions I couldn’t answer. Questions I might never be able to answer.
Scraps was just as silent as I was. Her eyes hidden behind those black goggles, slowly inclining her head towards the robe. Picking it up from the table she ran a hoof over it, “Some cleaning. A patch or two. You’ll be good as new. Someone went through a lot of trouble maintaining you, would be a shame to let it go to waste now.” For the second time she managed to run her hooves over an object without leaving a single stain or greasy hoof-print on it.
Stain? Grease? Cleaning? A horrible taste welled up in the back of my mouth. An echo of a memory, something she had done to me before we left, and a promise I intended to make good on. Better to focus on the happier moments now that I had the chance. “Oh, Scraps? Do you remember what I promised before we left..?” She looked up from the robe, staring at me. The panic obvious even behind her goggles.
She was fast. But I had telekinesis.
*** *** ***
“I am not your blasted filly!” Scraps squirmed about as I worked my magic over her mane and tail, slowly unwinding it from those braids. This proved remarkably difficult, given that she had apparently had them tied up that way forever. Hair should not be stiff enough to hold a shape even after being unbraided! “I can bathe myself...”
I just rolled my eyes as I finished working over her tail, “Yes, but you won’t, will you? Now hold still or this is going to hurt.” How did I know it was going to hurt? I hadn’t taken a bath in … ever, as far as I knew. Carefully I pulled the last of her mane free, “Now, off with those goggles.” She’d been wearing them constantly since I met her, even slept in them. I had little difficulty believing she’d been wearing them much, much longer.
“No way!” Scraps backed away towards the rear of the small room, “I am not letting you take them!” I couldn’t suppress a grin as my magic wrapped around those goggles and started tugging them off. The blond and blue pony slapped her hooves over her temples in a desperate bid to keep her goggles on.
Trotting up towards her I couldn’t help but laugh a little, “I’ll remove them with my teeth if I have to.” standing directly between her and the door. She’d backed herself into a corner, now! We were inside one of the larger buildings, which would eventually be some kind of public utility it seemed. The large tub full of lukewarm water resting behind me my intended recipient for Scraps.
Scraps glanced left and right as quick as she could before diving between my legs, sliding on her belly towards the door. Curses, that greasy outer coating was good for something after all! White light filled my vision and the world imploded around me, only to reassert itself back at the doorway again. Once more purple light entrapped Scraps and lifted her from the ground, “You are getting a bath, and that’s final!” This time at least I managed to yank her goggles off before she had a chance to escape again.
Sploosh, into the bath she went. Eyes clinched tight for the moment. “Couldn’t you at least use WARM water?” I dipped a hoof into the water, it wasn’t really cold, just not particularly hot. The quiet tap of hooves on tile flooring brought my attention to Requiem, carrying a small scrub brush in her mouth to deposit beside me.
“It’s not my fault that you didn’t bother to install water heaters yet.” Grabbing the brush in my magic and levitating it towards the bath tub. A little bit of soap from one of these ancient Mane & Coat Maintenance bottles and the brushing began. It was amazing the shelf-life of these pre-war products. Were they actually planning for the world to end, or were we just lucky?
Bubbles began to form in the bath as I worked the brush along that long-abused coat. The parts of it where she had worn her goggles were notably several shades lighter than the rest of her. But the caked-in dirt around the edges formed a clean outline of where the goggles went. It was almost creepy. “I wasn’t expecting to end up being bathed!” Scraps squirmed about in the bath uncomfortably as layer after layer of grime and grease began to work its way out of her coat.
A chuckle escaped my lips at that, “Oh, hush. If you kept yourself clean I wouldn’t have to be doing this, would I?” Slowly the oil and grime faded from her, her coat turning much more vibrant and quite pretty. It would still take quite a long while to get it all clean, but it was definitely improving. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll feel much better when you’re clean.”
Scraps snorted derisively as the door squeaked open. Arsenal poked her head in, spotting us she began to enter, dragging a large tub behind her, “I heard... Somepony say... There was a bath in here...” The tub was filled with water, had she really been pulling that thing all the way from the fountain? She was definitely dedicated.
Scraps finally opened one of her eyes, a beautiful green, staring at Arsenal with a smirk, “Come to get momma Aurora to wash your coat?” I was not her mother! I wasn’t anypony’s mother! I wasn’t fit to be anypony’s mother. My brushing got a tad bit forceful as Scraps winced, “Hey, hey! Watch where you put that brush!”
“Oops, sorry.” That was all the help I could offer her, as I lifted one of her hooves from the water to begin working it over. This was going to take a while, but surely she’d feel better when we were all done.
Arsenal huffed as she heaved the tub the rest of the way into the room, collapsing to the ground and panting a few moments, “Hmph. SOME ponies know what the word ‘clean’ means.” She trotted over to grab one of the spare bottles off a small shelf. We didn’t have many, most of them things I had swiped from Stable 66 during my less than coherent moments. Why was I stealing shampoo of all things? I had no idea.
The laughter from Scraps filled the room as she tumbled backwards fully into the bathwater, surfacing a moment later to gasp for air, “Hahaha! Yeah, and some of us don’t have fleas!” Oh, joy, had Fog really needed to tell her that? I grabbed Scraps and shoved her back under for a quick rinse again, before beginning to scrub her a second time.
The soft squeal of annoyance from Arsenal was more than enough in reply, “That is why I need a bath! Do you know what fleas DO to your mane and coat!?” she whimpered a moment before leaping whole-body into the bath water, mixing the shampoo in with it just a little, “I’ve spent a week locked in a dirty basement, starved, beaten, trotted across the wasteland, been stung, shot and terrified out of my mind. And now, now I have fleas too!” she settled slightly in the water. Actually looking something resembling peaceful for the first time since I met her, “I deserve a bath.”
“Lightweight.” Scrap’s response was almost too quiet for me to catch. The brush under her chin made her lift her head involuntarily, even eliciting a slight happy mutter from her. She wasn’t a heartless and cold pony, just annoyed. Finally time to begin on her mane, slowly working shampoo into it and rubbing it down, “Ow. Ow! Hey watch the hooves!” Her other eye opened staring out at me, a gorgeous blue orb. Wait, weren’t her eyes green just a minute ago?
“Oh, shush, you.” Arsenal’s response fulfilled my own feelings, “She’s just trying to help. You should relax and be happy you have a pony on hand willing to pamper you.” Requiem trotted up with another brush, dropping it just outside the tub near Arsenal, “At least you don’t have to do the cleaning yourself.” snatching up the brush in her mouth and beginning to rub herself down with it.
A splash as Scraps shoved a hoof into the tub, “I’d rather it was up to me. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with all this indignity.” she slumped in the tub slightly, as I lifted a whole chunk of water to run it over her mane all at once. Sploosh, mane was flat and wet, “AUGH! Warn a pony before you do that!” Shaking her head to get some of the water out.
Arsenal laughed, “Hm? Do you not like being clean? It figures that a sticky muckdweller like you wouldn’t know the joys of actually having a well maintained mane and tail.” She had set the brush aside, working shampoo into her mane with her hooves, “Maybe we’ll be really lucky and rescue a hair dresser from the wastes. That would be a miracle.”
Even I had to roll my eyes at that thought, “Why would anypony pursue a career in hairdressing in the middle of the wasteland?” It seemed absurd to me. “Hold your breath.” I reached out to dunk Scraps again, rinsing the shampoo out of her mane. It already looked much better, at least now it wasn’t involuntarily retaining the shape of the braid!
Arsenal pouted pitifully, “A lady can dream, can’t she?” working the froth in her mane then dunking her own head, picking up the brush to begin working over her soft brown hair, “These knots are going to take forever to get out.” Wincing as she pulled a small clump of hair free, “Oh. I hope I still have a mane when this is all over. I’d hate to try and find a wig out here!” For a moment my mind filled with an image of Arsenal wearing a curly black wig, almost too much for me to avoid laughing at.
My yellow and blue landlord couldn’t resist laughing at the idea at all, suddenly flopping around in the tub, “Oh. Oh that’s fantastic. A pegasus with a wig. I’d pay to see that. You’d have to strap it down every time you went flying.” Oh, ouch. My vision went towards Arsenal, who just slumped lower in the water. Scraps opened her eyes when she realized Arsenal wasn’t shooting back comments, staring in some confusion, “You... Can’t fly?” her brows furrowed at that prospect, something working its way through her brain.
Very slowly the crippled pegasus shook her head, not even willing to rise enough from the water to speak, before dipping under to rinse her mane. Scraps’ dissatisfied frown grew stronger as my attention returned to her fully. She did indeed have two different colored eyes. That was odd. Blue and green, no wonder she wore those goggles all the time. They’d certainly attract a lot of attention. My third and final rinse done, Scraps actually resembled something similar to a clean pony now.
As if on queue, Requiem trotted up with a blow drier and a clean towel. For a moment I stared at those objects in disbelief, “Where did you get a clean towel in this place..?” My mouth voiced my question without me even realizing it.
Scraps heaved herself out of the bath and shook some of the water from her coat, “From my linen locker. Duh. Where else would I keep my towels?” A hoof came up to my face, someday I was going to learn to stop asking questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.
Grabbing hold of the blow drier I turned the device up to full and worked it over Scraps’ mane and tail. Long and straight and clean, for about three seconds before they practically exploded in every direction. Fwoop! Instant curls. “Great. Now I’m going to have to spend all night rebraiding my mane and tail. I hope you’re happy now.”
Actually... I was. It was nice to have a little time with my friends where things weren’t going horribly wrong. And Scraps actually looked rather cute like that. Like Pinkie Pie, almost, though her mane and tail were even less controlled at the moment. The thoughts of that horrible sense of loss crept into the back of my mind. No. Stop. Don’t think about that now. These are your friends, they’re not going anywhere. Right? Right.
Grabbing up the towel Scraps just sighed in irritation, “I’m going to go eat that meal you made me and spend the rest of the night working on some problems. Maybe get my mane braided again, if I’m lucky.” she began to stalk out of the door, “I’ll see you both in the morning.” making sure to grab up her goggles on the way out.
For a moment Arsenal and I just shared a disbelieving look, “So do you think she’ll actually stay clean this time?” I just shook my head. Not a chance, but I’d keep dragging her back for fresh washings if I had to.
A yawn escaped me involuntarily, mmmh, was getting late and all the flying today had taken its toll. Arsenal smiled, “Why don’t you and Requiem head off to bed? It’s going to take me hours to work all the knots out of my mane and tail. No reason for you two to stay up.” I just nodded sleepily and headed for the door.
It took only a few moments to cross the junkyard, back to the tiny house I had spent most of yesterday in. Onto the nice soft bed. No story tonight, Requiem just settled in beside me as exhausted as I was. Too much excitement today.
But Violet Strings was safe. Arsenal was relatively content. Scraps was clean, and she was finally getting to have that meal I made her. With that drink filled with...
Ohno.
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 9) Spell Upgrade: Shield of the Goddess (Rank 2) - Through repeated practice and more than a few hard knocks you have refined your shielding spell. Your shield now grants you 10 DT and 20% DR for any attack which penetrates it. Additionally the difficulty to maintain your shield has gone down, halving the rate at which you accumulate Strain for using the shield and increasing the damage necessary to collapse the shield to 30% of your maximum HP.
((I know I said last chapter this probably wouldn't happen again. But it turns out that FiM Fiction doesn't allow strike-throughs in stories. So... Again for the sake of reading as it was intended to be presented I recommend checking gdocs here. The whole story is below, but some scenes may not make much sense.))
Chapter Nine: Non-Sequitur
“Today I learned... Nothing!”
It’s hard to judge how the world looks to other ponies. How you look. The best you can do is hope you understand how they think. The things they feel and the way they’ll react. But there’s no guarantees. Sometimes ponies act in ways which just don’t make any sense. Sometimes they hate with no reason. Sometimes they love without expecting returns. Their vision of the world and your own might never align.
Even worse when madness takes hold. How do you reason with someone who lacks even basic understanding of the world? Am I even capable of understanding a normal pony? How far removed is anypony from anypony? Worst of all, perhaps, is a pony who has lost their mind from outside sources. How well do you know the depths of a friend’s mind? Would you still recognize them when they’re taken far away by drugs and emotions?
*** *** ***
Ohno, ohno! I leaped to my hooves in the small, dark room. My heart was racing and mind filled with horrible images. Scraps was going to drink that thing I had created and who knew what it would do to her! I couldn’t let that happen. After everything and everypony I’d left behind I couldn’t let the one who saved me end up as an addicted mess. Brilliant white light filled my vision as the world imploded around me.
The familiar surroundings of Scraps’ workroom reasserted itself around me. But it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. My heart skipped a beat as I spotted the empty blender pitcher, still spinning on the serving tray. No! I was too late! Maybe... Maybe she’d be okay? Slowly I tore my eyes away from that horrifying sight to the rest of the room.
My heart sank and fear lanced up my spine as I saw the walls. They were plastered edge to edge in hundreds of sheets of paper. Blueprints, notes, equations and the occasional odd doodle covered their surfaces. They hung practically everywhere in the room, even being plastered to the ceiling. A dozen sheets hung from the fan like some bizarre child’s mobile, fluttering in the air as they were dragged in a lazy circle.
What had happened in here? Obviously Scraps had drunk the Balefire Blender, but... What had she been DOING? A huge pile of random junk was spewed across one corner of the room, around the base of one of her lockers. Across the room I could see a pile of empty Sparkle~Cola bottles, easily large enough to bury a pony alive, sitting beside her fridge.
My heart was beating faster and faster, a tight pain surging through my chest. Like being stabbed, but more painful. No, no, no! She... Where was she!? Scrambling across the room I began to rip the bottles free, pulling apart the piles of junk. She had to be somewhere. She couldn’t possibly have gotten very far. We’d only been apart for a few minutes at most. She had to be somewhere. Right? Right!?
For a moment I tore the room apart, searching under everything within reach. Not in the piles of junk. Not under the empty cola bottles. Not hiding under her blanket. Where was she- “Wake up ponies, for it is time to meet me, the queen of all that you see!” A familiar voice boomed through the air. “But worry not, my little ponies, for I am just and fair!” Those words completely stopped my heart. “So step up and raise your hooves, we’ll all do our part!”
The electric tingle of panic screamed through my mind. This was not good at all. What was she doing!? Instantly I was off, crashing across the room and over her counter. My rear hoof caught on the lip sending me tumbling through the air. Just barely, I managed to get my hooves back under me and skidded to a stop just short of the door. How did I DO that!? No, not now. Friend in danger first. I shoved against the door and exploded out into the junkyard proper.
What greeted me was certainly not what I expected.
*** *** ***
Brilliant white floodlights streamed across the junkyard, focused around a massive chariot. A Sparkle~Cola machine had been mangled, cut in half and gutted to make the body of the chariot. The other half propped up to form a back for it. Four wheels had been attached, looking so mis-sized I couldn’t believe it would actually work. The rear pair were massive rubber things stolen from some huge transport wagon. The front wheels were practically tiny by comparison, small and metal, stolen from some ancient carriage. Tiny multi-colored lights were strung across the chariot, blinking on and off in a regular pattern. She... She had to have been working on this for a while, right? There was no way she could have constructed something like this so quickly. I’d only been gone a few minutes!
The chariot was being drawn by a massive machine. Four long legs ending in rollers supported a squat, wide body. Long, thick arms welded to its chassis in an obvious modification. Their exposed pistons and gears showing both the made-at-home nature and the skill of their construction. Two claws, each with three long pincers, were mounted at the end of those arms, enough force behind them to snap bones and sever limbs with ease. A rotary cannon with six colored lenses mounted on its top. The weapon which Scraps had stopped it from firing at me. Much of the robot was a patchwork of metal, bare of color or design, but a few bits of sky blue paint clung resiliently to its frame. Cold horror ran up my spine as I took in its form. That was the robot which had broken my leg!
Seated in the back of the chariot was Scrap Heap, sitting tall and regal. An old, torn umbrella-hat settled atop her mass of curly hair. Spires of twisted metal ringed the outer edge, tiny blinking lights settled behind multi-faceted gems at the tip of each spire. She’d had time to build an entire chariot but not braid her mane? How was that possible?
Around her throat was a delicate silver necklace, shining beneath the floodlights. The necklace held up a familiar robe, the half-white, half-black symbol I had seen many times before gracing its surface. The preacher’s cloak? But why would she decide to wear that of all things? My mind scrambled for answers where there weren’t any. That symbol was important! She couldn’t possibly know how important it was!
My heart pounded in my chest. Scraps was here, but she looked okay. Okay? She’d plastered her entire room in notes! And now she was riding around on a crazy deathtrap made of salvaged parts! That was definitely not okay. “Oh, Aurora! There you are. I was afraid I’d be looking for you all day!” Day? It’s the middle of the night! Scraps’ voice had a comforting, almost serene, quality to it. “Now, now, no need to have a fit!” A grin spread across her face. “Why don’t you join me? I’ll get you up to pace!” She patted the chariot beside her.
My eye twitched slightly. “Scraps. You need to come inside and lay down. I’ll go get Frozen Fog. He’ll look you over, so everything will be fine, okay?” My hooves moved of their own accord, trotting nervously in place. This was crazy! She couldn’t seriously be out here like this, could she? What was she even doing!?
Scraps frowned as she looked me over, raising a hoof to her chin in thought. “Now now, dear Princess Aurora. Tonight is a night for excitement, not time to be distraught!” Augh! Not her too! Was everypony in the wasteland going to call me that? How did she even know that name!? “If you’re going to worry yourself sick, I’m not to blame!” Scraps reached out and kicked the front of the chariot. The robot in the front began to roll, heading towards a large junk pile. “So what do you say? Relax and have a great big smile!” The sound of her giggling echoed through the speaker system around the lot.
For a moment I sat in disbelief. Was... Was Scraps really completely oblivious to what was going on? I’d never seen her so... happy. That can’t be normal, right? There’s no way this could be a good thing. She needed help! Maybe... Maybe I could just grab her and drag her back? Then she’d have to sit and listen. She might not like me for it. But I could do it. I would do it! She’d come back one way or another!
Struggling to calm my panicked legs, I took off after the chariot. The squeaking of its wheels terminating abruptly. By the time I got there, Scraps was nowhere to be found. “Hey! Up here, not on the ground!” Above me? There she was! Climbing one of the speaker poles! “Now somewhere out there is what I need. But it could be in any one of those holes.” She was peering down at the massive pile of junk her ride had stopped near. “Oh well. No time for fear!” My eyes went wide, was she really going to... oh, no! “Geronimo!”
She leaped from the pole and flew through the air. My heart fell with her, filled with despair. For a moment I scrambled, shocked and fluttered. My brain struggling to keep up as my magic sputtered. Downwards she fell, purple light all around. I couldn’t let her hit the hard unyielding ground! The struggle to stop her was strong and unseen. Mere moments ticked by as through the air she careen’d. The resounding clatter of metal filled the air as into metal she slammed. She vanished in an instant, my heart sinking low, I scrambled to dig for her, hopelessness be damned!
A moment of horror spread through my mind. She wasn’t there! Digging through the metal with my magic, I ripped layer after layer of junk. The resounding clatter of it falling filling the cool night air. She had to be somewhere! Another crash as Scraps surfaced again, the air filled with a metal flurry. “Oh, Aurora. Don’t worry!” A grin spread across her face as she leaped from the heap, carrying a metal bar in her mouth. Her voice raised, as the air resounded with the sound. “When I was a little filly and there was junk all arooooound!”
My eyes twitched again. She wasn’t seriously... No way. There was no way she was going to be singing now! “You... You’re sick. You’re hurt. You need to come inside and relax! T-to stop doing this!” Please, please stop this madness. It was bad enough to know the things I had done wrong! Now she was doing this too!
Scraps just grinned, trotting across the pile. She dropped the metal bar to the ground. “The metal and the wires were all that could be fooooound!” A frown spread across her face as she dug into the junk pile, shoving the metal rod into a hoof-made slot. “I’d sit inside my room, drawing all the things I thought!” What was she doing!? She just grinned and backed up, hopping happily towards the rod. A moment she leaped on it, hurling junk into the air. Staring at the huge collection, containing whatever she sought. “But my teacher said that wasn’t the way that machines were wrought!” Her grin infectious as the pile of metal sailed towards the air towards me.
Panic screamed through my mind as I reflexively grabbed the hurled metal in my telekinesis. Purple glow surrounding and separating it all out. Dozens of metal girders, a coiled section of wiring, a mass of rivets. How had she pulled all this out at once? In just one leap! That should have been impossible. “Scraps... Please, please calm down. You’ve got to come back inside.” Surely she’d see reason sometime, right? Right!?
The massive grin across Scraps’ face as she approached did nothing to quell my fears. “She said ‘Filly, you’ve gotta build your dreams, pick your bolts and gears!” She looked up at the floating pile of junk, a moment before leaping from the ground to my head then up into the cloud of junk.
The sudden clopping to the head broke my concentration, the rain of metal falling all around me. Horror struck my mind as Scraps whole body disappeared. The only part still visible were her ears! “You’ll see that they’ll be real just focus your work until it all appears!’” Her voice continued its attentions. Until she finally surfaced again, holding a pair of large tanks by her teeth. A moment of attention and a brilliant blue flame burst from the tip of a welding torch. She touched it to one of the metal girders, producing a distinctive ‘Shunk, shunk, shunk’ sound.
The brilliance of the light blinded me a moment. Forcing me to look away from her. When I finally looked back she was assembling something with her hooves. Holding it in place with a back hoof as another drove rivets and she held the welder in her mouth. It didn’t seem to hamper her singing any, though.
“Soooooooo...!” She gave one piece of the construction a shove. “Build it up with love!” She grabbed up another bar, working piece by piece. What was all this a part of? “Make it tower above!” My heart was already skipping beats. This couldn’t be normal, could it? Without thinking I grabbed a metal bar when she gestured for it. My mind wasn’t even considering the gall. “Take pieces great and small!” She smashed rivets into place with a maul. “Put it together to show them all!” Together we continued to dig through all she’d found. “Inspiration is all around!” The resounding clang filled the air as she continued to pound. “Don’t just leave it on the ground!”
She was moving faster and faster now, piece by piece her work taking shape. A huge collection of metal girders and wiring. From where we were standing I couldn’t even tell what it was going to look like when finished, but she obviously had a plan. Her voice growing faster and faster the more work she did. Piece by piece it all came together, soon growing to the end of her song: “And take those pieces and put them together and show the world how they can’t possibly understand everything and if they think they know what you can do they’re all wrong!”
This was all too insane. There was no way this could be real. I had to be dreaming, right? I’d fallen asleep in my bedroom and I was imagining all of this. Yeah, that’s it. Couldn’t actually be happening! My eyes twitched a little again. “Scraps... Scraps... J-just calm down. It’s not... This isn’t... Please don’t...” My words were failing, my thoughts were failing. Even my legs felt like they were failing as they wobbled under me. This was all my fault! If she got hurt, or worse, it was because of me.
The blue and blond mare didn’t even seem to be listening this time. The grin across her face was just too wide as she dashed off, heading towards the rest of the houses. My legs carried me after her without thinking. What was she doing!? Rushing from house to house she knocked on each door. The resounding boom of her voice through the announcement system repeated once again. “Wake up! Wake up! It’s time to work! We’ve got a town to build, and it won’t be a pain!” She was... She was completely insane.
Slowly ponies began to pour out of their houses. Surely someone here had to be able to put a stop to this, right?
Oh, how I wish I was right...
*** *** ***
Shouts of confusion rang out across the Junkyard. Ponies awoken from their slumber by Scraps’ announcements slowly filtered from their homes. She didn’t even pause to talk to them, continuing on from building to building to awaken more. My hooves beat hard against the metal which made up the ground of most of the yard as I gave chase. Heart beating heavily in my chest and legs wobbling with each hoof-fall. Scraps was slipping further and further away from me.
The fluttering motion of her cape was just ahead of me, only a few hoof-falls before I could catch her. If she were just standing still it would be so easy. A little magic and she’d be in the air, unable to run any further! But not like this, if I did it wrong I’d hurt her. After everything which had gone wrong tonight, I couldn’t do that. Not a chance. “Scraps... Scraps calm down! We need to get you checked out! Come back and let Frozen Fog look you over. He’s really good at that kind of thing!” Well, admittedly I had no idea how good he was. But he was better than anypony else we had!
A grin passed over Scraps’ face, “What and give up our wonderful race!?” she clattered past another building, bashing on the door with a forehoof without even slowing down, “Come on now, Aurora, run faster, there’s no need to frown!” She pressed onwards, bouncing on all four hooves into the air. Somehow she kept staying in front of me no matter how fast I ran. I was bigger than her, tougher than her, stronger than her, I should be catching up to her! How was she still managing to stay ahead of me like that!?
Suddenly she turned in her bounces, rounding a corner between two buildings. My hooves almost got ahead of me as I struggled to stop before skidding straight past her hiding place. My hooves kicked up tiny sparks against the metal on the ground, as I slid to a stop at the end of a long alley. The buildings were clustered close together, a large wall at the far end. [strike]There was Scraps, standing out in the open, easy to see and catch. There was no more running now![/strike] The alleyway was strangely empty, where had she gone? Had she completely vanished? Oh come on! Something was very wrong. There should have been nowhere to go! My eye twitched again, “Scraps..? Come on out. I won’t hurt you!” slowly trotting in to the alley as I began to shift some of the junk to search for her.
A sudden weight settled upon my back. A giggle came from just behind my ear, “Why Aurora, don’t be silly, I’m right here!” Scraps’ goggles suddenly filled my vision as she leaned forwards to look at me upside down. I could feel her hooves reach around to grab my cheeks and pull my mouth into a grin. “Don’t look so dour, we’re just about to begin!” In an instant she was off again, hopping from my back and bounding away out of the alley. My heart throbbed in my chest and my head span. What just happened!? She was... But I was... But she couldn’t... And I didn’t feel... AUGH!
Think later, chase now. Spinning on my hooves I was off again. The fluttering of that robe drove me further. It was so important, my mind screamed in frustration and agony to see that symbol abused so. But Scraps seemed so happy as she moved. But so... Wrong, too. She’d always been enthusiastic, but never so bubbly and uncontrolled. This was all my fault. Everything which went wrong tonight was because of me. Please let me save her before things went really bad.
Rushing onwards my eyes were fixed upon the earth pony mechanic as she began to announce again. “Come on everyone! Join your hooves as friends! We’ll show the wasteland that we can win!” Win? Win what? There wasn’t any contest going on here! Unless you counted survival as a contest. Some days it certainly felt that way, but not tonight. Tonight felt more like a disaster. [strike]Had to keep focused on Scraps, even as my mind was screaming at me in a dozen directions. My sight never wavering from her despite the distractions.[/strike] My thoughts pulled me away for but a moment, drawn by the horrible things which might come of all this. When I shook off those feelings something was amiss! Scraps had vanished into the yard. Finding her in this mess was going to be so hard!
Around me I could hear the shouts of other ponies. Out of the corners of my eyes I could just make out their shapes, galloping back in another direction. All of this was so wrong, so very very wrong. I had to catch Scraps before she hurt herself, or someone else.
My heart throbbed in my chest, legs were beginning to ache now. After a long day of walking and running and fighting and no sleep even I was getting close to the breaking point. For a moment I slowed, trying to catch my breath. Scraps was gone, she could be anywhere at this point. “This is insane...” a quite moment to voice my feelings. Somehow that made me feel better despite changing nothing.
Leaning lightly against a building I raised my head, just in time to spot Scraps as she breached the surface of another pile of junk. For a moment she flew through the air, turning and curling back on herself before falling again, hooves first, into the pile of refuse. Instantly she vanished again, like she were just diving beneath the surface of a still pond. How was she DOING that!? This shouldn’t be possible! A moment more and she was at the top of that pile of junk again, sifting through it with a speed and ease which was terrifying to behold. An unfamiliar piece of machinery balanced between the spires of her ‘crown’.
At first I didn’t think she’d seen me. At least not until she turned and gave a giggling smirk, “Come now, Aurora. Responsibility you can’t shirk!” Winking as she leaped from the junk again, bouncing up towards me with that thing on her head, “There’s no need for you to be filled with dread!” She reached up a hoof to press to my nose, “Just come along, you’re my number one assistant, so just go with the flow!” Instantly she bloomed into full grin again and bounced away. Augh! Number one assistant!? Was she insane! I could barely keep track of myself some days.
“Okay Aurora. You can do this. She can’t run forever. Right? Right.” Slowly I heaved myself back to my legs. I wasn’t going to chase her on the ground, I just had to catch her some other way! Spreading my wings I beat them hard, taking to the sky and circling higher and higher. The wonderful freedom-filled rush of flight surged across my body. The little wind currents ripped through my mane and along my coat. My hooves beat against empty air out of reflex. It felt good, for a moment I just wanted to let myself drift lazily in the sky. But now was not the time!
Down below, amongst the brilliant lights and reflections I could see her. A crowd of ponies were gathering in the main square, but Scraps wasn’t there. She was heading elsewhere. The distinctive colors and flutter of the preacher’s robe gave her away, even amongst all the junk. In an instant I descended, hurling myself down with wings folded close. Descending faster and faster until I was barely above her. In an instant I spread my wings wide, landing directly on top of her. Barely braking hard enough to avoid crushing her alive. [strike]But now she was trapped, there was no way she could escape! “Scraps! You’re coming in for help! There’s no getting away!”[/strike] Beneath my hooves a figure was trapped! Wait a second, that wasn’t Scraps. Instead a metal equine form, welded together in haste. I could have hit full speed and it wouldn’t be paste! What was going on!? There was no way she could have seen me.
“Oh dear sweet princess! Your speed was quite in excess. But don’t you worry. You won’t be sorry!” The model pony under my hooves crackled with sound. This close I could see the robe was actually just some tattered cloth tied around it. How could I possibly have made that mistake? This was insane! “Don’t worry about me, I’m certainly not dead. But for now, off with my head!” Wait, what?
*BOOM-SPLAT!*
The head of the not-Scraps beneath me detonated with a small explosion, a sudden wave of purple washing across my face and staining my muzzle. This wasn’t... It couldn’t be... A drop fell onto my tongue. Razzleberry. She built a razzleberry bomb into her toy, just to mess with me? She had to be somewhere close by to appreciate it. A glance towards nearby rooftops. There she was! Scraps was standing on her hind legs, a tiny remote control on one hoof and the other firmly pressing the button on top. A black marker held between her teeth. What was that for?
Laughter filled the yard. “You should see the look on your face! You’re not making this very hard.” She leaped from the top of the roof and skated nimbly down the side on her hooves. Small sparks flying into the air behind her as she skidded down and leaped over top where I was standing. “Wheeeee!” Bounding away along the rooftops.
Briefly I just stood, shocked and confused. The thick, sweet goo dripping from my face. Splat, onto the ground below. My mind dredged up that awful feeling again, that sense of being coated in another pony. The moment of horror as Requiem walked in upon me. The moment of weakness when I did worse than murder. I had destroyed someone. Ground her up and bathed in her remains. Made a mistake and lost myself, now I was risking losing someone else for my stupidity. My gaze went back towards the goo as tears forced their way from my eyes.
For a long moment I just stood there, my legs wobbled beneath me and tears washed down my muzzle. This was wrong. This was all wrong. It was my fault. Scraps had gone mad, the yard was in an uproar, and it was because of me. How many ponies were going to suffer if Scraps really lost it tonight? How many had I promised a home to? How many would be out and alone now...? It was because of me. My fault.
The soft sound of hooves on metal drew my attention slowly upwards. Scraps was standing at the end of the row between the two buildings, marker still held in her lips. “There’s no need for your heart to do flips. Just come with me, you’ll see. It’ll be fun, just stand up and run!” Bouncing on her hooves there, excited as she watched me. For a long moment I considered just collapsing. But she was right there, I couldn’t let her get away now.
Heaving myself back to my legs I began to move after her. Not a run or a gallop or a chase now, just a lethargic and slow walk. Barely strong enough to lift each hoof in front of the other. The weight in my chest pressing down against my legs. Like gravity had suddenly become a dozen times stronger. The sweet goo on my face slowly dripping away from me, washed off by tears. Scraps glowered in my direction as she hopped along not far ahead. She was leading me now, I was sure. But why and where?
We rounded a corner and she lead on, until we stood near the center of the town. Dozens of ponies had gathered around. Her carriage sitting near the small gurgling fountain and the framework she had constructed resting nearby. Slowly she climbed to the top of the vehicle, amidst the blinking lights. Her voice boomed across the yard, “Welcome now our guest of honor! The great and amazing Princess Aurora! Without whom we would not have this home to call our own! So important I’ll even break my rhyming rhythm for her!” Wait, rhyming? And me? What had I done..? And even she was going to call me that now!? Ugh.
My legs sunk out from under me as I collapsed towards the ground. Dozens of ponies were standing around confused and questioning as they stared up at her. She just grinned in return, “Now let me remind you all. What it is that makes us stand proud and tall. Gather around and we’ll work together. To see one more day as ponies of a feather!” Ponies of a feather? Now she was really reaching...
For a moment the crowd was peaceful. Cheers began. Then the real madness started as Scraps spoke up again. This time to individual members.
Nopony could stop what was coming. Nopony wanted to.
*** *** ***
My head was swimming. A half-dozen voices argued for dominance. Parts of me were terrified about what was happening to Scraps, horrified I’d doomed my friend to madness. Parts of me were perplexed by how she was doing all this, sending deep unsettling feelings to my stomach, what she’s done shouldn’t be possible in such a short time. Parts of me wanted to just let go and have fun, enjoy the moment and bask in the fun. Part of me was proud and strong and wanted that love and worship, wanted to have everypony chant my name and know my greatness. Part of me was terrified of accepting anything like that, I wasn’t anypony special, I was just a lost soul in the wasteland. I didn’t deserve their praise or love.
Around me, the ruckus had started in earnest. Ponies stomping their hooves against steel plates, shouting and raising their voices in celebration. Dozens of figures huddled nearby, pulling closer and closer around me as Scraps’ voice boomed out. “And you, Golden Gate! You’ve been looking for a place to work your architecture, to fill space with much haste! The buildings you draw are beautiful and strong! With your help this town’s design can’t go wrong!” An architect? In the wasteland? Then again, I had seen a lot of buildings and repairs to buildings. Somepony out there had to know something about construction.
The confused haze across my mind grew worse and worse, as Scraps' speech continued onwards unabated. This was getting so confusing. And she kept using that title I hated! “Princess Aurora brought you all here! She lead you to salvation and a place without fear! Everyone has dreams and goals! If we work together we can all fill each other’s holes!” My head was throbbing now, confusion growing greater and greater. She went on like this for what felt like hours, the night growing on later and later.
Another cheer went up through the crowd as they started to gather closer. A cheer went up from Scraps, as suddenly I was lifted from the ground; half a dozen ponies around me heaved me into the air. No! I wasn’t someone worth treating this way! Wings and legs struggled in vain, the throbbing pain in my mind making it hard to even pick out individual ponies as they hauled me closer.
A moments later I stood in front of Scraps again. She was on the ground, not her carriage, standing just in front of me. “And for her humility, her sacrifice and her kindness, I give Aurora a crown of her very own! The princess and founder of our dear town!” She heaved an extra large umbrella hat from the cart, covered in dozens upon dozens of tiny sparkling lights.
Towers of twisted metal which matched hers but were if anything more grand and elegant. The rear half of the umbrella had been ripped off, leaving something more akin to a tiara. It twinkled with its own internal glow, as she set it upon my head. The weight of it on my brow felt heavy enough to snap my neck. Not heavy with weight, but heavy with... Something else. Shame? Fear? It was hard to tell. Something about it just felt so wrong. I shouldn’t be wearing it, I didn’t deserve to wear it. But my legs were too tired, my heart too weighted down, to take it off right now.
Behind me a cheer went up. Hoots, shouts and whistles filled the air. Scraps just grinned at me, the shining silver of the necklace around her neck seemed to be outdone by sparkling white teeth. How did she manage to keep them in that state in the wasteland? Why was I thinking about that right now? “Scraps... You need...” My voice was almost silent, too weak to really protest any more as Scraps threw a leg around my neck, pulling me tight against her. By reflex, I stuck out my tongue in surprise. She was stronger than she looked!
“Now come on everyone, you’ve all seen and heard what you seek! We just need to work together and not be meek! With everything you’ve imagined, you can make this the best town ever! Right here, at the Junkyard, together forever!” Another cheer rippled through the crowd, as voices responded in kind to Scraps’ call. Suddenly music started streaming through the public announcement system. Where had Scraps found that!?
The familiar white and pink form of Rosemary stepped forward, raising her voice.
“At the Junkyard! In the cafe! I am going to feed them all!” She swept a hoof back towards a small building, it looked quite nice.
“All the vittles, I will cook it at the Junkyard! (At the Junkyard!)” Dozens of other ponies echoed her sentiments in perfect time.
“All the ponies and the traders they will stop by my feed hall!” The exhausted confusion was catching up with me, even thinking in rhyme!
“They’ll eat my food and tell tales, right here in the Junkyard!” Her voice raised higher and higher, her excitement carrying on for all to see.
Dozens of ponies were moving closer, their voices raised all around me.
“All our dreams will come true! Right here at the Junkyard. At the Junkyard!”
Forward rolled an electric wheelchair, the whine of its motor lost in the crowd.
“At the Junkyard (It’s amazing), I will show them (Do you know her?)! Lilac looked up towards the starry skies, her voice strong and proud
“I can still work hard each day (Pull your weight)!” She raised her still good hoof towards the sky, a tear running from her one eye.
“Worthy ponies (Working hard), they will see me (Look at you), working hard for everyone (All of us)!” Raising her hoof to wipe away that tear she let out a long sigh.
“And I’ll show them all I'm still useful, right here for the Rangers!”
As ponies raised their voices in time again, Scraps had moved; upon her construction she was tying ropes.
“All our dreams and our hopes, from now until hereafter. All that we’ve been wishing for will be found at the Junkyard! At the Junkyard!” Soon ponies were grabbing strands and pulling them taught, willing to work hard for all their hopes!
A familiar cutie mark of a ball and chain soon passed before my face.
“At the Junkyard, all the ponies, will see judgement fair from me!” He wove effortlessly across the crowd, through every open space.
“They will see that I’m not cruel, at the Junkyard! (At the Junkyard!)” His gaze passed over those who might know his judgement one day.
“I will find them, the law-breakers.” But not a single pony felt the need to fight against what he had to say.
“And how sorry they will be! They will face justice right here at the Junkyard!”
Behind me the metal tower began to creak and groan.
“This is what we’ve waited for, to have the best town ever! Each of us will live our dreams, each day at the Junkyard!” Confusion filled my heart as Scraps had quickly returned to her throne.
The music shifted tones significantly, suddenly filled with brass and horns.
“Been dreaming, I’ve been searching, for a new place to perform!” Violet Strings raised her bow high above though her face looked forlorn.
“My song will travel far and wide!” Soon she had begun to drag that bow across her strings, filling the air with beautiful music.
“Ponies'll know that I ain't died!” The sad face of Requiem peered out from behind, her silent gaze just as stoic.
“Perform for the whole wasteland!” The cloudy grey filly looked so sad and all alone, amidst a crowd.
“They’ll know that life can be grand!” Try as she might, even now she just couldn’t be loud!
“The wastelanders will hear me, right here at the Junkyard!”
All around ponies danced and sang, dragging harder upon those ropes, poor Requiem was so sad.
“All our dreams will all come true, our happy ever after! All our dreams, they will come true, right here at the Junkyard!” Small tears fell from my eyes and my legs refused to move. No one deserved to suffer as she had!
Another small filly leaped up upon Violet Strings’ head, flapping her tiny wings!
“I am here at the great Junkyard! It is the best place for ponies!” She squirmed as she raised her voice, singing of such important things.
“But the one thing I was missing was a pony to teach me!” She reared up on her rear legs as a huge grin spread across her face. “Arsenal’s the bestest pony, everypony will agree!” Soon she swayed and tumbled towards the ground from her place, her voice never losing pace!
“We’ll go flying, we'll go soaring, together at the Junkyard!”
The groans grew louder and stronger with every passing tug and pull, dozens of ponies working now.
“Freedom and flying at the Junkyard! At the Junkyard!” Soon their construction would be finished, my mind swimming in confusion and just looking on somehow.
Two other Alicorns swooped down, landing just beside me.
“At the Junkyard! With the Princess! Is where we want to be!” Those voices sang their words in perfect harmony!
“She will tell us what we should do! Hear our greatest plea!” But the horror of their words sank in and I suddenly wished to flee.
“It’s going to be so perfect when she takes our responsibility!” What they wanted was not what I could ever be!
With a resounding ‘clang’ the tower came to full erection.
“This will be the best town ever!” The crowds words came as a great interjection!
Scraps was off and doing her thing.
“Upon the Junkyard we must work!” Even as the crowd continued to sing.
“We’re ready now, we won’t shirk!” Their tone and words were in perfect time.
“Upon the Junkyard let us work and build the best town ever!” But how was it possible for so many to know the rhyme!?
“Upon the Junkyard now’s the day, we’ll work together come what may!”
The chorus of ponies all sang with strength.
“Here in the Junkyard! (Here in the Junkyard!)” Rosemary raised her voice, holding her notes with great length.
“Feed ponies!” The line repeated over again and again.
“Here in the Junkyard! (Here in the Junkyard!)” Lilac’s voice roared with the desire to win!
“Prove I can work!” How could everypony know so much about what was to be said?
“Here in the Junkyard! (Here in the Junkyard!)” Iron Clad’s voice seemed to only drive home how far sanity had fled!
“Guard the town!” Violet Strings was filled with gusto and cheer.
“Play my strings for everypony!” All joined together for the wasteland to hear.
“To feed! To prove! To guard! To play! To fly! To do!” My mind swam and felt so drained and confused.
“Here in the Junkyard! Here in the Junkyard!” Surely sanity had been horribly abused!
“And it’ll be the best town ever!” Slowly the ponies began to disperse once more.
“At the Junkyard!” As my hooves gave out, and my jaw again hit the floor.
All around me ponies had begun trotting together. Moving materials and working on new buildings, it seemed they really planned to stay forever! My heart pounded as the two beside me reached down. A whisper from one in my ear; “Please Princess, do not frown!” That title hurt and stung my heart. But they were right, I should do my part.
Slowly again I raised to my hooves, my thoughts turning to assist. But they were working and my presence was not missed. Many more had gathered nearby, to cheer and cajole. “Don’t worry, Princess Aurora. Just go with the flow!” Dozens of ponies shouted encouragement. But my thoughts were filled with lament. They kept using that title, which made me feel so bad. But their intent was not to make me sad!
Slowly I stood again, my mouth open to correct their mistake. But a resounding crash made me hesitate. A door swung open and familiar pony appeared. Wrapped in bright white robes and with anger to be feared! Her crippled wings were no disability. As she stomped across the yard, straight towards me! “Aurora! Some of us are trying to get our beauty sleep. Would you PLEASE tell your ‘dear subjects’ to KEEP IT DOWN!” Arsenal’s voice was filled with rage. Nearly exploding from what I could gauge. But this wasn’t my fault, I hadn’t started it! I should not be the target of her fit!
Opening my mouth to answer her demands, Scraps took it upon herself to foil my plans. She leaped down and trotted ahead, despite Arsenal seeming to wish her dead. What happened next felt almost unreal. But then, perhaps even I could see the appeal.
*** *** ***
The grin upon Scraps’ face was not held back. But Arsenal’s annoyance showed no slack! “Well, well, this pegasus has been quite busy,” Scraps raised a hoof to Arsenal’s robe, across patchwork stitching and at edging did she probe, “There’s no need for you to get in a tizzy!” For a moment I thought Arsenal might just explode, her obvious rage had not been slowed! As I moved to stand and offer my help, Scraps called back with a swift yelp. “Guards! Detain the dear princess in my ride. Her discomfort I will not abide!”
Beside me the alicorns raised their wings to block my path. For a moment I considered pressing forward and risking their wrath. But then they spoke, two voices as one, in stalwart tones not to be outdone. “Princess please, the queen has had her say! Your worries are not needed this day.” But day had already gone, night now lingered on. Alas their magic whisked me away, before I could have my say. Soon they held me where I sat again. I couldn’t break free, though I heaved with the strain.
Adjusting the rollers tight in her mane, Arsenal glared at Scraps with great disdain. “Busy or not is no business of yours! Just keep quiet out here, or do you like me looking a mess..?” She practically growled that last word, I’m sure everypony had heard. Soon others were gathered all around, it seemed that their argument was gaining renown. “You might be content to leave your mane all a mess,” Arsenal prodded at the curly fluff beneath Scraps’ crown, her face covered by an elongated frown, “But some of us have standards. Not that I’d expect any of you muckdwellers to understand.” She waved a hoof in irritation. Others looked annoyed at that generalization.
Scraps merely smiled and put a hoof around her neck, giving her cheek a brief peck. “Shush you silly winged pony. Everyone here can see you’re a phony!” The grin which had spread ear to ear was now something I had learned to fear. “What you want is not beauty to make your commander proud. What you wish is a pony from amongst this crowd!” She surveyed the surroundings with intent most clear. Her gaze could be tracked behind her eye gear.
The pegasus groaned and tried to pull away. But Scraps wouldn’t let go until she had her say. “I do -not- want some grubby muckdweller as my special somepony, thank you very much. Some of us just have a basis for what makes a presentable mare, that’s all.” She huffed and puffed in angered frustration, while Scraps seemed to only increase in elation! “If you’re quite done with all that singing, will you let me go so I can get back to sleep?” Though her complaints were quite vocal, she seemed to be staying quite local.
A laugh and a bounce escaped our queen’s lips. Soon she was bouncing ‘round and doing flips! “Now, Cherry, my dear. I fully understand your plight!” She bounded and leaped with ease and grace. Now there was no chance for anypony to save face. “It’s abundantly clear that somewhere in here is a pony who will treat you just right!” She slipped and slid through the crowd, her singing coming quite loud.
For a moment Arsenal rolled her eyes, turning away with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t believe you’re starting.” She stormed back, ready to unleash her wrath. Only for Scraps to leap out and block her path. For a moment they stood - a glare and a grin - setting an odd tone to the mood. Finally Arsenal broke down with a slump, it seemed she was finally over the hump. “Fine, first let me set a few rules.” She raised a hoof towards Scraps, with each word she gave the earth pony light taps. “It’s of utmost importance that the pony I get is one who is sweet and knows tools.” She turned and stalked away a few paces, now they had practically swapped places!
Scraps raised a hoof to give a salute, she seemed to be having quite a hoot. “Sweet, tools, got it!” She rose to her hooves and trotted away. Soon, through the crowd, I could hear her voice say: “There’s so many ponies just wait you will see!”
Arsenal turned and swayed, though in her spot she stayed. “They will have to be smart and so stylish and stick right by me!” Her tail twitched despite being bound. Surely somewhere here a pony could be found?
Amongst the crowd a commotion stirred. The pony brought forth was not one she preferred. “How about Fog? He’s skilled and sharp and a technical wiz!” The ice blue unicorn heaved a groan. That was a fate he would certainly bemoan.
A ruffle of feathers and roll of eyes was followed swiftly by a disappointed sigh. “Skilled, sharp? Have you heard what he says?” Fog opened his mouth to protest the claim. But he was shuffled away before he could lay blame.
Scraps was off once again through the crowd. The look on her face still so proud. “Cherry have faith. Because I will bet you, somewhere out here is a pony who’ll get you!” She grinned as she trotted up to Arsenal’s side. Slowly I was settling in upon her ride. “Come on, sky’s the limit!” She waved a hoof towards the stars. A shuffle of wings showed off painful scars.
Raising a hoof towards the sky, Arsenal let off a mournful sigh. “Sky is good. I’d like to go home...” The longing look upon her face made it clear how much she’d lost to this place.
Scraps instantly moved far across empty space. I could teleport and even I wouldn’t match that pace! “Really? Because I think this earth pony has your name written all over him! Look, he likes you.” She forced a dark grey earth pony out, and he blushed. Certainly this kind of thing wasn’t to be rushed?
For a moment Arsenal stared at him; her response came slow, not on a whim. “... Pass.” She shook her head with a frustrated groan. How many more would she deny before making one her own?
Completely undeterred Scraps continued her song and dance. A rhythmic motion to bounce and prance. “There are so many wonderful choices for all you will need!” Soon she’d pulled two more forward against their will. Rosemary and Iron Clad, both holding perfectly still. “There are cooks and jailers who are quite clever!”
“Cooks and jailers do not like science.” Arsenal’s response was flat and dismissive. Did she have to be so derisive?
Filled to the brim with motion, Scraps replied to stem the commotion, “True, but I’m sure they could learn!”
A roll of the eyes and a quick slide, Arsenal was walking back inside! “That’s it, I’m out of here.”
Once again Scraps blocked her way, not willing to let the pegasus avoid her say. “Wait! There must be a pony who will meet your demands!” Reaching out with a hoof she pulled an armored pony near. Even beneath his armor I could see his fear. “How about a Ranger? Just look how tall he stands!” Horror and dread was what his stance declared. Was this the one Arsenal had repaired?
Arsenal looked him over with thought and consideration. Her answer was simple, despite much consideration. “Ugh. Smarter and cleverer!” She rolled her eyes with a growl. Her mood seemed to be turning even more foul.
“Smart. Clever. Right.” Scraps’ grin had not faded, her efforts continued unabated. “I’ve got just the thing right here, dear Cherry!” She rushed forwards throwing a hoof for a hug. Arsenal’s response was to give a frustrated shrug. “How about you and me!?” Her declaration came with great glee. Why was she calling Arsenal ‘Cherry’?
A grunt and a groan were the first answer back. Arsenal’s annoyance seemed to be right on track. “You’re just a muckdweller!” She pulled away from the other mare. Well, that was hardly fair!
Of the refusal Scraps did not seem to mind. A gentle poke with a hoof as she answered in kind. “Not any muckdweller. I’m also an engineer quite stellar!” In excitement she waved a hoof all around. Drawing attention to the machines which did abound. Many things sat within this pile of junk. Many repaired and made functional before they sunk!
Arsenal groaned and pulled away. What was it going to take to make her stay? “Yeah... Right.” She shook her head and twitched her tail. Surely this complaint could not fail? “Scraps my dear, this won’t cut it!” The pegasus stormed and stomped across the yard. The air filled with hooves clanging metal quite hard. “I need a pony who’s a guarantee.” She swung her flanks and turned about. Her face looking skyward in a lonely pout. “Somepony smart, somepony stylish.” A moment to adjust her robe hiding hesitation. Was she really so invested in her station? “Who knows enough to dress as well as me!” She had found dresses amidst the wreckage of time. And certainly she knew how to avoid most of the grime.
“I’m sensing you want someone pretty.” Scraps raised a hoof to tap her chin. Who knew what gears could be turning within.
A hoof was raised to cover Arsenal’s face, lowering her gaze in solemn disgrace. “No, you think?” Was getting her point across really this hard? I knew what she wanted, this was getting awkward.
As I opened my mouth to protest the misunderstanding, Scraps vanished in a puff of smoke, so alone Arsenal was standing. In an instant she left and in an instant returned. She wore a suit and a grin unconcerned. “I have many wonderful dresses if you won’t look by!” She raised a hoof to her neck to adjust an odd piece. For once in her life not covered in grease! “Like this gorgeous piece which comes with its own tie!”
Arsenal tilted her head from side to side. Her gaze lingering upon Scraps with some slight pride. “Better. But prettier.” That was surprising, and something I never expected to see. Arsenal looking upon Scraps approvingly?
The grin upon the mechanic’s face grew greater and greater. I hoped she wasn’t going to be paying for all this later. Soon she’d vanished off to wherever she went. The return trip was instant and seemed like time went unspent. “I see. How about a tuxedo? Or some slippers? Or nice boots?” Each item she listed was quickly retrieved. The appraising eye of Arsenal was not one to be deceived. “I have many types of clothing, soon you’ll see that!” In a moment she was carrying a box. Swiftly she undid all the locks. “Jewels and gemstones, don’t let out a groan!” The light from within sparkled and shined. Arsenal’s back leg kicked uncontrollably behind. “Perhaps what you’d like is a fanciful and amazing hat?” In a moment Scraps was no longer wearing her crown. Instead she was wearing something which looked more like a strange gown. Sparkling gems which matched starlit skies. With dark cloth and a feather of great size. Colors which seemed to match her revered cloak. All of a sudden I felt myself choke!
Sorrow and pain flowed from deep within. What a time for this to begin! That robe was important, its history vital. It belonged to the one for whom ‘Preacher’ was title! Yet there she was wearing it without shame. But who was I to lay that blame? Surely she had no way to understand, why I would make such a strange demand. I wished to shout to scream and protest. But right now was not the time for such unrest. The two were drawing closer than ever before. So I swallowed my pride and the pain I just bore. But what was it about that fanciful hat? What memory had it stirred to send my mind into such a spat?
That was a question I could not contemplate. For the singing and dancing did not abate! “Now you’re talking!” Arsenal’s voice cracked and squeaked with delight. It seemed they were growing closer tonight. “But only if you can manage to keep yourself clean!” She pressed a hoof to the mechanic’s shoulder. The pegasus definitely growing bolder. “So much muck, and work aplenty!”
Scraps frowned slightly as she looked away. For the first time tonight she seemed in dismay. “A mare needs her protection, if you ask me.”
The complaint fell upon deaf ears. Now it was my pegasus friend who let out the cheers. “The dress would be awesome. But the hat really suits you!” She tilted her head to one side then the other. Imagining her thoughts made me let out a shudder. “Are you sure you wouldn’t put up with a new hairdo?”
Scraps shook her head, long curly mane bobbing with each motion. The crowd of ponies had dispersed despite the ongoing commotion. “No. I’ve got a beautiful white gown just waiting for a night.” Now she was dressed again in something new. Long white and flowing, in the breeze it blew.
The appraising gaze of my winged friend, looked over the mare from end to end. “Are you sure it won’t be too tight?” She paused in thought as options were contemplated. Had her rejection of muckdwellers really abated? “A date, that’s it!” She sprang and shouted towards sky above. Pressing a hoof to Scraps with a gentle shove. “There’s really just one way, to find out if we are a match!” She curled her hoof in excitement as the idea took form. Could she really have been taken by Scraps’ charm? “We’ll have a time of peace, tranquility and love. Which will make each moment last!”
The grin upon Scraps’ face grew wider with joy. She responded to those thoughts with a voice most coy. “Don’t forget candles! Bet you’ll love it there, then we’ll know for sure whether we should be with each other!” She hooked a hoof around Arsenal’s neck. Together they trotted back towards the patched together wreck. They came closer towards me, their song filled with unchecked glee. “The ones who are happiest and best together!”
“Just you and me.” Arsenal returned the hoof in kind. Into the chariot they climbed. “Can’t settle for less. Because I’m the best! So together we will see.” She planted a soft kiss upon Scraps’ cheek. Soon the wheels began to creak. “Who’s the greatest, perfectest pony in the world for me!”
Slowly the carriage began to move. To each other they still had much to prove. Their voices raised in unity. Washing together across this small community. “Let the date begin, and may the best mare win!” Together we rolled across open ground. Had they completely forgotten I was around?
The music cut out as their song ended. What kind of ponies had I befriended!? For a moment I held my tongue, still worried about the two alicorns beside me being high strung. But as we went, my thoughts overpowered my fear. The time was drawing far too near. “Scraps please don’t do something you’ll regret! Arsenal, please, you can’t be taken in yet!” My voice whined and caught within my throat. But my thoughts I would not sugar coat! “She’s drunk too much of my gift this morning. She might do something crazy without warning!” My eye twitched and heart all aflutter. I struggled with each breath to avoid a stutter.
Arsenal and Scraps seemed not to notice at all. How far would these two fall? A building drew closer its walls simple and bare. This morning it had surely not been there! But what lay within I could not expect. Surely Scraps had already checked...
Soon the date was underway. It seemed I really had no say.
*** *** ***
The room within those walls was dimly lit. Large enough for all of us with a comfortable fit. Tables filled much of its internal space. Soon Scraps and Arsenal together found a place. The two by my side moved with purpose and meaning. Finding me a place nearby I could listen without leaning. “Here you are, dear Princess Aurora. Please relax, I’ll fix your tiara.” A moment of green light as the weight on my head shifted. I hadn’t even noticed as at the edge of my vision darkness lifted. The dim light of the room came from high above. Dozens of dim headlamps hung down to set a scene for love.
My place at a table set with comfort and precision. Why hadn’t I been let in on this decision? “You two are going to follow me all night?” A sigh passed my lips, I wasn’t looking for a fight. “If I’m to be sitting here as they date, at least get me something to eat while I wait.” Food sounded like a wonderful thing. I hadn’t eaten since the Stable... no to the present I must cling! My mind threatened to whisk me away. Those horrible memories it wished to replay. A shudder ran down my spine at that thought. All attempts at mirth this night seemed to be for nought. “Bring me something sweet. Something tasty to eat. Anything to get my mind from this track. Something for which there is no lack!” Soon the two had departed from my side. My wishes they wished to abide.
Across the way at the table nearby, Scraps and Arsenal’s conversation nearly made me cry. They looked up as Rosemary came to ask them for their order. “I believe I will have some rigatoni. And for you my special somepony?” Arsenal’s voice was nearly saccharine in tone. The sound of it made me want to groan.
The grin Scraps returned was worse still -- I'd feared all this sweetness just might make me ill. “Now that is a question most severe. But I think I’ll have what you’re having, my dear.” From the paper upon her hooves she briefly read. Questions of where it had come from were ignored, I wished to enjoy this night instead. “And let us have a bottle of wine. That would be most magnificently divine.” This time I let out a quiet sigh. For once perhaps I was content to let time tick by.
My mind swam in confusion and fear. Scraps was still one I held most dear. This night was my fault, with all its twists and turns. It was my responsibility to deal with any emotional burns. The quiet creek of a door drew my attention. Shocking red mane and silent hoof-falls, Requiem arrived without mention. She took a place quickly by my side. The lonely look on her face made me wish I had died. A soft hoof laid around her shoulder -- the singing and dancing had left her alone, but all I could do was hold her. She leaned against my flank with a silent tear. Looking up towards Scraps and Arsenal I wished she could share their cheer.
“So there I was with nothing to use but tong tinglers. Would you believe how hard it is to fix whiz dinglers?” Arsenal was telling some story with words I did not know. Was she really just putting on a show? “Moment by moment my fear crept by. Then that jerk snuck up on me and yelled ‘Hey Pie!’.” She gritted her teeth with frustration and rage. Wrath which a laugh seemed to assuage. “The shock was great and my surprise beyond measure. So I turned to show him my displeasure. Only to realize in that moment of panic, I had fixed the machine and earned my cutie mark as a mechanic.” The laughter which erupted was instant and loud. But that was a story for which you should be proud.
My mind fixated upon that tale. A cutie mark was something everypony should have without fail. Yet there remained nothing shown upon my flank. My past was still so much a blank. My hoof moved without so much as a thought. A gentle stroke to Requiem made my mind less distraught. Soft music began to fill the air from nearby. Violet Strings was there to play and I wasn’t going to ask why. Soon bowls arrived for my friends’ table. It seemed Rosemary was still quite able. “I couldn’t find any rigatoni I’m sorry to say. But I did what I could with what I had anyway.” Two bowls which steamed just slightly in the cool air. The smell of tomato sauce spread everywhere.
Together my friends sat and talked the night away. Enjoying a meal of noodles and tomato puree. Arsenal’s delicate and controlled motion was a sharp contrast to Scraps’ violent emotion. She buried her face in the meal. Then again the way the food smelled made me almost squeal. Arsenal just laughed and raised an old cloth. Wiping tomato stains from her marefriend’s face in a wide swath. “Be more careful my silly widdle greasey-weasey-wrenchy-wenchy! There’s no need for you to get your face all drenchy.” Those words made my stomach nearly do a flip. How could she say those words while so obsessed with being hip!?
Scraps just smiled with entranced gaze. It was almost like she was in a daze. “I’m so sorry, my pretty cherry-werry-sweetie-pie. I’m not so used to giving manners a try.” She tilted her head to one side, looking ready to swoon. Someone please gag me with a spoon! Anything to stop my stomach’s complaints. At this rate I was going to need some restraints.
As if in answer to my prayers, the two other alicorns returned with their wares. A pile of snack cakes larger than my head. Was this where my request had led? Soon it was sitting on the table before me. My heart pounded as my mind filled with glee. The smell of sugar filled my senses with wonder. But before I could eat I thought of the table and the one under. Taking a few I floated them away, something for Requiem as a treat on this sad day. Soon I was cramming my face with sugary sweets. Glanced up some time later to my friends' empty seats!
The wonderful taste and ecstatic feeling blurred my perception. I had missed my chance for an interception! From up above I could hear hooves fall upon the roof. Why had they chosen now to become so aloof!? With fear and worry I rushed out the door. Straight out into the yard, watching these two was becoming a chore!
Up above upon the roof they sat together, staring up at the stars through cloudy weather. “You saw them every night back at home. But to us on the surface the sky was just a silver dome. So please don’t be angry at what some might have to say. Life isn’t fair and shouldn’t be this way. Many judge by looks or by type. Me? I say forget all the hype.” Scraps spoke with words of wisdom most true. Offering solace to one who once flew. “Those who come from closer or from far. We’re all the same ponies, each born beneath a star. The world is larger than most realize. How fair is it to judge just by travel size?” she shook her head in dismay, things should not be this way, “So don’t hate those who believe you stole the skies away. Here you’ll always have a place to stay.” A comforting smile for one lost and alone. Perhaps Arsenal felt the need to atone?
The pegasus looked upon skies far above her face quiet and quite long. How long had she been searching for a place to belong? Slowly she spoke with sad words and heartache. I hoped that tonight was not a horrible mistake. “This world is strange and horrible it’s true. But it’s not quite so bad when I’m with you.” Slowly downwards her eyes were cast. Was there something worse in her past? “When my wings were hurt and I could no longer fly. I believed for certain that day I would die. They came to me then, when I could not escape. They seemed intent to batter and rape.” She winced in pain and horror at the thought. She meant those raiders I fought? The memories that had stirred in me that day. The disturbance of my past upon my mind weigh. But that feeling was one I knew all too well. It was like being chained within hell. A feeling of weakness and powerless shame. The feeling that somehow it was you who was to blame.
The thought of her enduring such an awful thing made my blood boil. My mind churned and emotions a murky roil. Were that raider leader alive on this day, her hide I would surely flay. Parts of me protested the evils I committed, but the thought of the monster stopped soothed me more than I admitted. “They offered me a place when they saw my skill. ‘Do as your told or you’re the one we will kill!’. A bargain made with ponies not to be crossed. I saved my life but at what cost?” The sorrowful look as she gazed towards the ground. Not at me but at Requiem’s quiet sound. Did she know what they had done to the filly? She must have suspected, to not would be silly.
Scraps just patted her upon one hoof with a sigh. Her words were perhaps cruel but she was not one to lie. “They took her family friends and loved ones. They used your skills to build and repair those guns.” For a moment Arsenal looked shocked and pained. But soon composure she regained. Scraps continued her words of kindness and sorrow. I wondered briefly if they’d remember this tomorrow. “Do not blame yourself for another’s cruel ways. That is no way to spend your days. Instead look to tomorrow and all you can do. Know that you’re important though friends you have few.” A hoof raised to the chin of the pegasus most sad. Perhaps tonight wasn’t really so bad. A grin spread across her face as lips met. Scraps had been looking forward to this all night I’d bet. A kiss between two who were closest to me. For a moment they seemed as happy as could be. Yet Arsenal swayed and wobbled in her place. Leaning against Scraps as a brace.
Scraps in turn just laughed and called out. Her voice raised across the yard with a shout. “Aurora! Catch us!” She swayed as well and tumbled free and away. Her legs wrapped tight around Arsenal and grinning come what may. The two plummeted together through the open air. Panic scrambled through my mind, this wasn’t fair! In an instant they were wrapped in my magic bubble. Mere inches short of crashing into the rubble.
The moment of terror had passed, but the throbbing of my heart would still last. The two unconscious within my magic grip. Towards Frozen Fog did I zip. We needed his knowledge, expertise and thoughts. Quickly before the guilt tied me in knots!
*** *** ***
A groan broke the silence within Scraps’ store. Arsenal began to stir atop the ancient patched-together couch. It had been hours since I carried them both in here from the rangers’ barracks. Frozen Fog had not been too pleased when I told him the details about my gift to Scraps, but after checking the two out he seemed certain they were both fine. Or would both be fine in time, at least.
Right now Scraps was sleeping off her intoxication in her hammock. Arsenal was just coming around. I was mostly just glad the madness was over, my legs aching slightly from hours of silent pacing. Requiem sleeping silently atop the store counter. I’d told her to go off to bed several times, but she never listened to me.
“Bwuh... What happened?” Arsenal’s voice finally raised into the air, “Why does my mouth taste like mechanic? And... Tomato sauce?” Sticking out her tongue briefly. ‘Taste like mechanic’? How often had she kissed another pony to have some idea what they actually tasted like? “Last thing I remember was... Oh. Oh dear.” It’s funny how easy it is to see a bright red blush on dark red coat, really. You’d think it’d blend in a lot more.
A grin passed my face, “Oh, don’t you worry. Your greasey-weasey-wrenchy-wenchy is resting in the next room. She’ll be fine by the time the sun comes up. Or at least Frozen Fog seems to think so.” Wow, I thought blushes were easy to see. Apparently flushes were even easier, as Arsenal seemed to turn a shade of pale pink which couldn’t possibly be healthy.
A shuddering gasp as she raised a hoof to her forehead and collapsed back onto the couch. Dammit, that was the third time tonight. At this rate she was never going to recover! Though it wasn’t any less amusing this time than the last two, I had to admit.
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 10) New Perk: Mare of Destruction - Your talent for destroying everything you lay your hoof upon is rivaled only by the guilt you feel for everything you leave a smoking crater in your wake. You receive a permanent +5% to your critical hit rate with all attacks.
There are certain basic needs which everypony shares. Food, water, housing. When these things are taken away from a pony they’ll do almost anything to get them back. Friendships become secondary to survival. The Wasteland had a way of stealing the most basic decency from everypony. Depriving them of what they needed and driving them to their very limits. What would you do to get another meal? Would you steal it? Would you kill for it? Fight monsters? The world’s a dangerous place.
But those needs also draw ponies together. Together it was easier to get what you needed than alone. Communities could grow food, build structures and search for water far easier than a single pony alone could. Even raiders, horrors that they are, stuck together. These common needs drew ponies close, made them rely on one another, care for one another, even if they cared nothing for those outside their community. How far apart, then, was a pony who didn’t need those things from the rest? When you were never hungry, never thirsty, had protection from wind and rain simply by being what you are? How big a gap does that put between you and those who rely on each other just to survive?
*** *** ***
A tiny mote of dust drifted silently through the air. Stained a soft golden by sunlight streaming through a cracked window. Gentle breeze of wind swept silently from some yet unpatched gap in the ramshackle walls carried the little ball of fluff aimlessly. The whimsy of the wind tossed it slowly through the open air, gently dancing above the hard, flat surface of the counter.
Others joined it in a quiet dance as a little whirlwind pulled them closer near the ancient table. Ancient magazines, read a thousand times over, sat beneath their play like an audience locked in a burning theater. In a moment their dance was done, drifting away again across open air. One slowly floated lower, landing upon a great purple plain where gusts of wind from two enormous caverns caught it. Dragged helplessly by the winds it vanished into the depths.
I sneezed.
Ugh. Dusty, boring, and lonely. That pretty much summed up the state of Scraps’ store for the past two weeks. I slumped back down onto the counter top, chin laying limply against it and staring half-focused at the far wall. An ancient peeling poster was plastered there, one I had somehow missed before Scraps asked me to mind the shop. ‘Be a part of something bigger than yourself!’ read the top, a valiant looking white unicorn posed dramatically below with hoof raised up to point into the distance, ‘Join the Equestrian Guard today!’. It was hard to believe someone like Scraps would have chosen that to put on a wall she’d spend hours every day staring at. Then again, she probably spent her days in her work room anyway.
The radio quietly spewed music from the corner. The same song played for what must have been the thousandth time. I’d heard it so many times I didn’t even pay attention to which song it was any more. Just more words and noise, nothing meaningful. Bored. Heaving a sigh kicked up more tiny dust motes to amuse myself in staring at. It wasn’t much, but it was better than doing nothing at all. Somewhere behind me in Scraps’ workshop I could hear the soft squeaking of her ceiling fan, a constant quiet rhythm, just enough to be noticeable and not quite loud enough to be ignorable like the radio. So bored.
Scraps was working on something in there. I could hear the occasional sound of machinery, the fizzle of electrical arcs and every once in a while the sharp whining crack of a blow torch. She’d been working for days, barely taking the time to eat and sleep. She’d been trying to do it since the day after her ‘experience’ with my cooking. Part of me, the exhausted, bored and depressed parts mostly, desperately wanted to stab myself for that mistake. I was doing my best not to agree with that part. Self-mutilation only occasionally solved problems, after all. Plus it hurt.
Frozen Fog, at least, had managed to force her to get a few days rest before she started working again. Threatened to tie her to a bed if she didn’t cooperate. Almost had to make good on that threat, when Scraps started insisting that somepony had to mind her shop. Of course I volunteered. She was a friend, and that’s what friends did, right? Parts of me really regretted that decision after almost two weeks of staring at the same wall without a single customer.
Oh, sure, there’d been some basic maintenance. The occasional individual coming by to drop something off for Scraps to repair from the settlement outside. Most of them didn’t stay to talk. I got the feeling that, despite all I’d done to help, a lot of them were still nervous around me. Not that I could blame them. From what they said, at least a few had ended up in that camp because of me. Part of me wanted to go back there, find Doublethink’s remains and do something unconscionable to them. Most of me was trying to bury that part in a thousand tons of mental cement. It wasn’t working very well.
My wings were starting to cramp again, time to roll over. A great heaving motion brought me most of the way to my hooves, followed by a swift thunderous ‘thump’ as my bulk hit the ground again on the other side. “I’m bored.” As though verbalizing my problem would somehow force the very fabric of the universe taught and cause it to spit up an answer for me. It was almost enough to make me wish I was back out there being shot at, stabbed or blown up again. Almost.
I wasn’t even sure what Arsenal had been doing all this time. After her ‘encounter’ with Scraps she had mostly vanished. I wasn’t sure if she was avoiding me or avoiding Scraps, but she wasn’t coming into the store at all. It was worrying, with the way she’d been acting I almost expected her to do something drastic. But she didn’t seem the type to give up so easily. She’d been beaten, broken and wounded by the wasteland. Giving up over some one-night fling just seemed pathetic by comparison, somehow. She was better than that. She had to be. Right? It must have just been boredom driving my mind to the worst places.
A quiet creak brought me back towards reality, dragging me painfully from my own thoughts. The door swung open just a little bit, but nopony stood in the doorway. For a moment there was silence, then a young voice spoke up. “Come on! You’ve got to learn how to talk to somepony sometime, right? You trust her. It’ll be easy!” A familiar voice. Earth Bound. She’d been trying to get close to Requiem ever since they came to the Junkyard. I think she was just thrilled to meet another pony roughly her age. Requiem was, as ever, silent in return.
Tiny little grunts filled the air a moment later. Slowly, I heaved myself to standing position again, climbing up over the counter and down the other side. One advantage of having long legs, at least, was that furniture was surprisingly easy to get over. Just have to be careful not to accidentally put a hoof down on it. Ruined a good chair that way a few days ago. I think Scraps was still annoyed about that.
Outside the door was Earth Bound, stalwartly trying to drag Requiem inside by her tail, tiny wings beating as hard as they could as she attempted to drag forwards. To the little pegasus’ favor, she was doing a fairly good job at it, judging by the small furrows left in the surface of the ground outside. Requiem was pressed tight against the ground, trying to grip it with all four hooves as hard as she could manage.
For a moment I just stood and stared at the two quietly. Earth Bound had clearly been struggling to get Requiem in here for quite some time. Though why I wasn’t entirely sure. “Do... Do you need help with something?” The moment the words were out of my mouth I wanted to cover my face with a hoof. Of course she needed help with something. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be coming into the shop.
The little pegasus squeaked again in frustration, before finally answering me. “Yeah! You can get Requiem to stop trying to run away from me!” The moment Requiem’s tail was out of her mouth the little grey filly bolted, dashing past the pegasus and through the door, taking refuge behind the counter. This time I actually did lift a hoof to my face with a sigh.
“Why don’t you come inside and we can talk?” Slowly I headed back behind the counter, checking to make sure Requiem was doing alright. She was hiding underneath an empty crate labeled ‘milk bottles’. Whatever had happened this morning must have terrified her much worse than normal, usually she just chose to take a position others wouldn’t notice, rather than actively hide like that. “Is there something I can help you with? In specific?”
Earth Bound trotted in after me, standing a short distance back from the counter so I’d be able to see her when I sat behind it. “Well... Do you have any dolls or anything? We used to have some when I was younger. I even had a talking Prince Blueblood action figure once! It was great! But most of them got lost and Granny said we could only take the most essential stuff from home. But toys -are- essential! I still feel bad for leaving my Virtuoso Lyra behind. She’s a great musician, after all!” For a moment all I could do was stare and blink numbly at the question. Was this what foals were normally like? Part of me, a big part, said yes. That this was what a filly was -supposed- to be. Not a ball of horror and shyness, but friendly and happy.
Still, I contemplated her question a few moments. “Dolls..? I don’t think Scraps has anything like that.” At least not that I’d ever seen. The best I could do was give a nervous smile. Part of me really wanted to cry about that answer. Here was a child who wanted nothing so much as something to play with, and I had to turn her away? Somehow that hurt worse than being stabbed.
“Awwww.” The filly sunk her head a little. “I wanted to give something nice to Requiem. I thought maybe if I gave her a toy or something she’d be my friend! But she doesn’t seem to like me at all. Always running away.” For a moment there was silence before the little filly leaped upwards and planted her forehooves against the counter with a grin, “Oh. Oh! I know! When you first came to our town you had an old doll in your bags! I remember seeing it during the flight back. She was little and grey and had one of those fancy anklets like you do! I bet she’d love that!”
My mind went blank at that question. A... toy I had with me then? In my saddlebags? Wait, that was right wasn’t it? I had found a doll. In... oh. There. The sound of gunfire rang in the back of my thoughts, the dying light in the eyes of a colt danced across my imagination. For a moment I wanted to cry again, what kind of monster was I, stealing from a place filled with innocents and condemning them to death? But they were monsters. Monsters in the skins of ponies. Not a pony, just a monster. Right? Right...
Slowly I slid a hoof under the counter to remove my saddle bags. It took only a moment with the help of my PipBuck’s inventory sorter before I had the doll in my magic: an old ragdoll, looking to have been patched several times over the years. Her dark grey coat had small patches of purple and green sewn into it where it must have torn. The thickly curled mane of yarn was stretched and slightly battered. She looked lived with. Old. Not broken, just aged. Like the wasteland in a way, some part of me quietly suggested.
Quietly, I floated the doll to the counter. “Well, I have this I guess... I’m not doing anything with her.” It was a her, of that I was sure. I didn’t know how I knew, the doll was hardly distinctive about such things as stylized as it was, but some part of me insisted it must be female. I offered a slight smile to Earth Bound. “She’s yours if you want her. As long as you promise to take care of her.”
The little filly stared up at the doll wide-eyed for a moment with an excited smile. “Really!? Just like that? But... Granny says you should always pay for something. It’s only fair to give somepony something in return if they’re doing something nice for you!” My mind scrambled to try and comprehend that. Friends just did nice things for one another, didn’t they? It didn’t have to be about paying things back, did it? “So... Uh... Um... Oh, I know! What if I help teach Requiem to talk! I bet that would be worth a doll, right?” She grinned excitedly at the prospect.
For a moment I just stared, then slowly a smile crawled from the depths of my mind to battle its way past tears, sorrow and disbelief, crusading its way through my thoughts to take up encampment on my face. A small giggle even managed to follow in the trail it blazed with minimal resistance. “Alright. But you should take it slow.” I lowered my head to almost whisper, as though what I was about to say were some great secret, “She’s kind of shy.” Another giggle managed to sneak its way past my defenses before I slowly straightened up again.
Earth Bound just grinned as she leaped from the floor to the top of the counter, beating her wings hard to give her enough propulsion to actually make it. “Don’t worry! I’ll take good care of her! Granny taught me how to sew, too. So I’ll make sure that she doesn’t get hurt or anything, too!” Somewhere beneath me I heard the soft sound of wood shifting against metal. Out of the corner of my eye I could just spot Requiem moving from her hiding place at the mention of her name.
Slowly she climbed from her hidey hole, slipping up onto my back and then to the counter. She was still hiding, standing behind the large register which dominated part of the counter. Some chimera of an adding machine which Scraps had patched together from half a dozen different pieces. She stared at the back of the doll curiously a few long moments before slowly slinking her way across the counter. Earth Bound hadn’t even noticed her yet, she was so enamoured with the doll.
For a moment I smiled, then an idea occurred. Wrapping my magic around the doll I turned it around. My eyes closed a moment as I presented it to Requiem. Careful to move slowly so it didn’t startle her. “Requiem. Meet Miss Stable Pants,” that was the name my PipBuck had given the doll, for some reason, “I hope you like her very much. I think she likes you!” I wasn’t sure why a doll would like someone, or how, but it just felt like the right thing to say.
When I opened my eyes Requiem was no where to be seen. A moment of confused searching with my eyes revealed the brilliant red fluff of her mane poking out from behind one of the boxes of spare parts near the corner of the room. Slowly she peered out at the doll, only to spot it still there and immediately flee again. Like she was terrified of it looking at her, even though it wasn’t alive. But that was insane, wasn’t it? It was just a doll, it couldn’t hurt her! Parts of me protested the prospect in its entirety, but another part, that horrible dissenting part which seemed to assume the worst of the world, insisted she was terrified of the very idea of being looked at.
I opened my mouth to talk to her, reassure her, “Requiem, I-”
*BOOM!*
A deafening detonation came from Scraps’ work room, drowning out the rest of my words and immediately drawing all attention to that closed door.
*** *** ***
For a few long moments silence reigned supreme in the small shop. Requiem had darted back into her hiding place, whatever words Earth Bound had been speaking were cut off as surely as mine. Cold, horrid fear ran down from the base of my skull along my spine to settle like an iron weight in my gut. That explosion had been violent, even now I could see black smoke trailing from the top of the door. The fear that Scraps had accidentally killed herself choked words and thoughts from my mind. Even the usually conflicting bits of thoughts and emotions were silent in those long moments of trepidation.
Finally, the explosive bang of wood against metal broke the silence. Thick, black smoke rolled from the now-open doorway, obscuring my view for a moment. The smell was awful, like burning tires mixed with ozone, a horrid stench which I was certain had been born of some dark pit from beyond the world. The smoke rose high, clinging to the ceiling and gradually leaking out the tiny gaps and holes in the walls. No wonder Scraps had never fixed those drafty corners. Part of my mind quietly wondered how common this kind of thing was if she felt the need to leave ventilation holes in her house. The rest of me didn’t want to know the answer.
What felt like eternity, stretching out moment by moment, passed in that small room before the smoke thinned enough to see a figure standing in the doorway. Scraps was coated in a thin layer of black soot, her braided mane looked singed around the edges and the ash clinging to her goggles gave them a matte black coloration, a contrast to their usual shine. A soft cough passed through her as she regurgitated inhaled smoke. “I’M OKAY!” Well she was certainly loud, and talking. ‘Okay’ was perhaps pushing it a little.
“Okay? Okay!? You blew up your workroom! We should get you to Frozen Fog, make sure you’re alright!” Scraps just stared in my direction quietly a moment before fishing for a rag from one of the boxes nearby with a hoof. At least I assume she was looking for a rag, she didn’t seem to be having much luck seeing where she was going. “Why don’t you just take the goggles off?” A mostly rhetorical question, as I was already in the process of levitating one of the ratty pieces of cloth into her hoof.
A few moments and Scraps had wiped her goggles clean, “WHAT!? I CAN’T UNDERSTAND A WORD YOU’RE SAYING! THERE WAS AN EXPLOSION, EARS ARE STILL RINGING.” Wonderful. Not only was she crazy, she was deaf too. I raised a hoof to my face, as much to block out that horrid stench as out of embarrassment on her behalf. The clinking of glass bottles made me open my eyes again, catching Scraps fishing around in her refrigerator. She didn’t look pleased as she pulled herself clear, a bottle of Sparkle~Cola held in her lips. She mumbled something around it I couldn’t understand.
I heaved a sigh as a squeaky voice from behind me spoke up. “Wow! Do you do this a lot Miss Scraps? You must have the best job ever!” Earth Bound’s familiar tones made me groan. Please no encouraging the crazy science pony. It was bad enough she’d allowed her lab to explode, the last thing I wanted was someone telling her she should do it more often. “Thanks for the doll, Miss Princess Aurora.” Augh! Was everypony in the wasteland really going to call me that? “I’ll take good care of her and make sure Requiem has lots of time to play with her and everything!” The voice grew more distant as the little filly departed with her new toy. Thank Celestia.
The solid thunk of a full bottle of Sparkle~Cola hitting the counter dragged my attention fully back towards Scraps. “I asked you a question. Why are we so low on Sparkle~Cola? The caravans know to bring extra out here. I even give them an extra good deal on the stuff most of the time.” She frowned and grabbed hold of the bottle opener in her mouth. A moment later it was seated on the bottle and the resounding ‘thump’ of her hoof pulled the cap clear in a single swift motion. Something I hadn’t witnessed her do personally since the first day I had arrived.
The part of my mind still cross about her blowing up her lab was winning the arguments over how to answer. “Maybe if somepony didn’t drink ten bottles a day we’d have more of it.” Without much thought I rolled my eyes. Scraps was a friend, and I tried to be patient, but she blew up her workspace and her first thought was about why there wasn’t enough soda? This pony had the strangest priorities in the entire wasteland! “Besides, there haven’t been any caravans to buy from. Not since you had me minding the shop, anyway.”
Requiem had made her way out of her hiding place, slinking silently between Scraps’ legs, around the counter and towards me. A moment later, she was taking refuge behind me from the arguing. I could feel her pressing her chin up against my shoulders as she peered out at the ash-covered Scraps. If the explosion had shaken me, it had almost certainly done far worse to her. Parts of me were amazed she was still even in the shop. Much more of me was just thankful she was close by. She needed somepony to remind her the world wasn’t entirely frightening, and at least it gave my life some small measure of meaning.
“Eh? Really?” Scraps’ frown grew more pronounced as she took her first drink from the bottle. “That’s weird. Usually they come by about once a week. If it’s been that long since any came, then something must be wrong.” She raised a hoof to tap her chin. “Or maybe they just don’t care for my choice of salesmare.” Hey! That was hardly fair! Usually ponies had to at least see me before they ran away in terror! Or shot at me. The shooting seemed a lot more common than the running, actually. “This is no good at all. If something’s gone wrong in Trotonto then we’ll need to get someone down that way to talk to them. Find out why the caravans are moving so slow.”
Slowly I rose to my hooves, “Alright. But first you’re getting checked out by Frozen Fog. You just blew yourself up, and I’m not having you end up seriously hurt and just ignoring it.” For all her skill with machines, the mare seemed to have no willingness to take care of herself at all. Dirt, grime and grease I could tolerate, but injuries weren’t to be ignored. Scraps opened her mouth to protest, but I didn’t give her a choice. Purple light surrounded her and her Sparkle~Cola bottle as I levitated her in front of me. “Whatever you have to say can be said on the way to the clinic. No complaints.” It was surprising what being the bigger pony let you get away with.
Scraps grumbled in annoyance and waved her legs in a futile attempt to escape my magic a few moments before returning to the topic at hand. “If there’s something wrong at the Pasture Passage company, someone will need to go see them. They’re the only ones who usually send caravans out this way. And we’re going to need supplies, lots of supplies, till we can get some kind of local farming going on. No caravans means no new food. We’ve got plenty of water, thanks to you, and some stockpile. But... no new food means we’re running on borrowed time.” The mare downed another mouthful of Sparkle~Cola.
I knew where this was going. These ponies were my responsibility, I was the one who brought them here and promised them a safe home. As we walked through the streets several paused in their daily activities to offer friendly waves and smiles. Part of me protested they were only doing it because they were afraid of me, that they secretly hated me, wanted me gone. Another part lavished in the attention, but demanded more. They shouldn’t just be waving, they should be groveling, bowing, showing proper respect for their princess! I tried to strangle that piece with some mental piano wire, but it wasn’t working very well.
Whether their actions were ‘enough’ or not, these ponies had accepted me. The only ponies I’d met who had. Not like they had much choice, I suppose, but I wasn’t going to abandon the closest thing I had to a real home now. “I’ll go.” I heaved a sigh; I really didn’t want to leave the Junkyard again. The wastes outside were horrible and dangerous and this place was safe and calm.
The distant ache of gunshot wounds mixed with the dreadful horror of killing ponies and the cold rage from memories of slavers and torture. But if civilization was to survive here, somepony had to face the fire. Better it be the monster who nopony needed than somepony important, right? The quiet weight of Requiem on my back reminded me there was at least one pony in the wasteland who needed me. Somepony I couldn’t abandon. For her especially I had to go. I wouldn’t sit here and wait as she starved.
“Well, duh.” Scraps’ response was as eloquent as it was immediate. “But not just you. Trotonto’s a long way away, it’ll be at least a week by hoof. And you’ll want to bring help. Take Arsenal with you. She might be a stuck up pretty pony, but she knows enough about machines that you might be able to barter some of her skills in return for the return of the caravans.” ‘Might’ didn’t sound very good. “Besides, I really don’t want to put up with her coming and bothering me about how her mane won’t sit quite right, or how the two hundred year old shampoo doesn’t smell like flowers and rainbows any more.” I admit, a smile crept across my face at those words, that definitely sounded like Arsenal.
We were already approaching the clinic and barracks of the Steel Rangers. “I’ll go find her and drag her with if I have to. Who knows, maybe we’ll be really, really lucky and she’ll find a dress shop in Trotonto which meets her taste. That’d be nice.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the idea. Scraps, surprisingly, didn’t laugh but just downed another mouthful of her soda. It almost felt like she was trying not to do something worse.
Heading inside, I dropped Scraps off with Frozen Fog. He’d need some time to check her over properly, and the sooner I went and retrieved Arsenal, the better. At least it wouldn't be too hard to get her to come with me, right?
*** *** ***
The home which Arsenal had claimed sat small, almost humble, compared to the larger surrounding buildings. Tucked neatly between Rosemary’s diner and the Steel Rangers’ barracks, the building was easily dwarfed by both. The reason she had chosen it was obvious enough to anypony who paid attention, as electrical cabling ran to both of the largest structures in the Junkyard. The dangling wires which had been patched into those power sources and run off to her own home easily visible beneath the morning sun.
It wasn’t at all what I expected of the mare. I had thought she’d pick one of the huge, sprawling almost-mansions a few of the more upper class ponies had picked. For definitions of upper class which include ‘formerly a slave’, in any case. The Junkyard was wanting for many things, but construction materials were not one of them. But she had picked a place which supported convenience over size, though the reason why wasn’t entirely clear to me at first.
I hadn’t seen the interior of her home before, making it something of an adventure in an otherwise familiar place as I approached the front door. Requiem stirred on my back, peering around me towards the doorway out of curiosity. Knock first, right? I raised a hoof to bang on the door. “Arsenal? We need to talk!”
For a long moment I stood in relative silence. Other ponies trotted past me, the shufflings of early morning in a small town, but nothing from within. After a minute I tried again, with a little more force. Still no answer. Now it was moving from odd to worrying.
Grabbing the door handle with my magic I turned and shoved the door open. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. Apparently wherever Arsenal was from didn’t worry much about theft. Parts of my brain threw up huge warnings about her safety and health if somepony in the yard turned out to be dangerous.
It only took Requiem a moment to leap from my back, instantly shuffling into the house and vanishing from sight. I was pretty good at picking her out, but the interior provided ample places to hide. Small piles of junk, obviously fished from the piles outside, lined walls and corners. A work bench patched together from half a dozen other pieces of furniture sat in a corner with a disassembled radio strewn across the surface.
The front room was only the first in a long line of disaster areas. Pushing past the initial junk, I came to a second room. This one was larger, a small pile of cushions set out on one side with a low table in front of them. The whole room lit by a single hanging bulb from the ceiling, casting an eerie yellow tinge to everything nearby.
Through one of the side doors I could just make out the shape of a large arcanotech machine with a cylindrical helmet attached to a long, multi-jointed arm. I didn’t even want to hazard a guess what that was, but Arsenal apparently valued it, if the fact that it had obviously had parts replaced from other, similar, machines was any indication. Patches of other-colored metal where she’d replaced housing and plating, tools leaning against it and what I could only guess were spare parts piled in a small crate nearby.
The thunder of hooves against the floor upstairs brought me out of my wanderlust, drawing my attention towards the sound of rapid movement. Worse than that, a moment later a shriek filled the air, not precisely in pain but definitely loud and abrupt. My mind leapt to the darkest places, imagining some horrible pony had broken into Arsenal’s home and was doing unmentionable things to her at that very moment!
In an instant I took off across the house towards the staircase. Which, in itself, was actually quite hard. The building’s doors weren’t really large enough to let me move through them easily and I very nearly smashed my horn into an overhang just getting around the corner.
Two by two I rushed up the stairs in a huff. Cold fear running down my spine as the warm, wet feeling of dieing raider projected itself across my mind. That horrible way a pony gasped and heaved as they breathed their last few breaths. The thought of something like that happening to Arsenal shaking me inside.
The door at the top of the stairs was closed, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I grabbed it with my magic as I rushed upwards and onwards, and flung it wide moments before what would have been collision. For a moment my nostrils flared, anger rushed to my mind, rage fueled by panic as I came face to face with Arsenal’s predicament: the flurry of white robes and the twitch of broken wings, the way her mane tossed with every unexpected motion. The thunder of hooves against metal and carpeting beneath her hooves as she moved without warning or direction.
She was dancing.
Or maybe prancing might better describe it? Rushing, bounding from place to place across the room. Dressed in the same fluffy white robe she had been during her unexpected awakening over a week ago, patched together from a dozen towels. She looked healthier, happier, than I’d seen her... well, ever really. No longer just skin and bones, the times of good food and exercise having done her wonders. Though perhaps not as wondrous as the regular bathing had.
For a moment I just stood dumbstruck as she rushed and turned, enjoying the simple pleasure of motion. I suppose after spending a week or more chained to a wall any freedom at all must have been a joy. But this was still unusual. Sitting on a small table near her bed was what resembled a radio, the glowing lights clearly indicating it was on, but there was no sound issuing from it. The way Arsenal was prancing about, she undoubtedly had music.
Without much thought I grabbed the controls to the radio and switched it off. At least that still worked the way it should. “Arsenal? Are you okay? You’ve been holed up in here for a week!” She had barely even been seen around town. Hadn’t even come to visit me! Was this really what she’d been doing all that time? Even for a mare as obsessed with appearances as she was that seemed a bit much.
The dark red mare blinked a moment as her radio turned off. “Hey! I was listening to that!” She reached up a hoof to remove the small metal clip from one of her ears. I hadn’t spotted it before, with her mane in motion and her body following after, but she had an earbloom for her radio like the one which went with my PipBuck. Odd, I’d not seen one used with any other kind of machine before. For a moment she was silent as though considering what I said before finally answering my question. “It’s been a week? Really? Are you sure?” Her hoof tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“Yes. I’m sure. Agonizingly, absolutely positive.” A week of sitting in the front of Scraps’ store checking the time over and over, just to make sure I knew when exactly I could leave. That kind of boredom bred a sense of horrible, agonizing dread which made me almost wish for- No, not even that would make me wish for something like Stable 66 again. A tiny shudder ran down my spine at the very thought of visiting that place again.
Arsenal furrowed her brows. “Oh. Well. Why’d you come and bother me anyway? I’m fine. See? Just been working on some things in my free time. Basic needed-for-life things. Like a mane dryer and washing machine. You know, stuff everypony should have!” For a moment all I could do was stare at her in disbelief. There was a serious chance the town would starve, that there wouldn’t be enough to go around, and she was worrying about shampooing her mane and keeping her clothing properly pressed? I fought the urge to grind my teeth in irritation at that prospect.
“We’re going to Trotonto.” No, not a question. We were going, and that was final. She was going to help me get this done. It needed to be done, for the good of the town. “You’re coming with. I need your help.” Plus there was the fact that, pegasus or not, it was way more likely that ponies would listen to her than me. At least she usually managed not to get shot at before they asked who she was. Maybe after they met her, but not before.
The look I got in return was like I had just asked her to travel to Tartarus with me. “You cannot be serious, Aurora. Why should I give up all these wonderful conveniences and comforts of my very own home just to trek across that awful, ugly wasteland, getting sand and dirt in my nice clean mane I might add, when there’s so much to do here?” Ah, there were the words I was expecting. Well, maybe not those precise words, but the basic idea was there at least.
“Because if you don’t all the ponies here might starve.” I frowned a moment. “Well, not all the ponies. Maybe only around two thirds? I know I won’t starve. Neither will the other Alicorns. But you probably will. Is that a good enough reason?” I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her about whether or not she was coming. Better to just make it clear what she stood to gain, right? “Plus, Trotonto is where Merry-go-Round was from. If there was one dress salespony there, maybe you’ll get lucky and find another.”
At first her look was one of disbelief, then fading into annoyance, then finally acceptance. “Fine. If you need me so much I’ll come. It’s not like I could expect a bunch of muckdwellers to be able to do even something so simple and basic as farming right. You ponies down here are probably still surviving off the wreckage from two hundred years ago!” She raised her nose high in the air and snorted. “I’ll get my things and we can go. And maybe if you’re really lucky I’ll even help you find something which will fit such a generously proportioned pony as you.” … Did she just call me fat?
Arsenal shooed me out of the room as best she could. One advantage of being so ‘generously proportioned’ was that it was actually quite hard for another pony to shove me around. “Just be by the gate by mid-day, okay? It’s going to be a long trip and I need to make sure we have enough supplies before we leave.” I waved a hoof to her with a grumble, slowly trotting back down the stairs. Really, after all this time, she was still complaining about something so simple as the world being dirty? Were clouds really that clean? Ugh. Sometimes she could be so infuriating.
Out the front door I went. A moment later Requiem caught up with me, carrying a small silver locket in her mouth. Levitating it up from her I gave it a look over. Empty inside, must have been pulled from one of the junk heaps. An idea occurred which made me smile, something to deal with later, if we were lucky. I tucked the little locket away in her saddle bag. “Take care of that, someday it might be important.”
Now, it was time to visit Rosemary and Frozen Fog. We’d need food, water and medicine for a trip this far. Well, Arsenal and Requiem would. Some part of me kept insisting I’d be better off traveling alone. That I was stronger than they were, didn’t need what they did. I did my best to gag that part of me.
I didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not ever again.
*** *** ***
Three days of relative peace had passed on the path between Junkyard and Trotonto. We traveled mostly in silence, though Arsenal seemed to find something new to complain about every day. She was a good soul at heart, but some part of me insisted that no matter how good the world was she’d always find some flaw in it. Something which could be made better, maybe. A part of me thought that was a good thing, something the wasteland needed so very much. Most of me just wished she’d find a better way to express her distaste than whining to me about how hot the sun was or how hard the ground was.
The journey had been uneventful for the most part. The occasional well-picked-over ruins near our path provided protection from the elements, with only occasional disruption by radhogs or similar minor concerns. Nothing we couldn’t handle under our own power, thankfully. Today had been more peaceful than most, and the scattered remains of the night’s meal sat not far from where I was resting.
The last embers of the dieing fire were the only illumination besides the stars left. Arsenal had fallen asleep hours ago. She’d left her robe back in the junkyard, thankfully, but had insisted on bringing a sleeping mask with her, crudely stitched together from what I guessed was cloth taken from an aged couch. Watching her sleep made me wonder how she had ever made it as a soldier. Maybe things really were that much different where she was from. Maybe they could be again someday.
A slight pressure and movement beneath my wing alerted me of Requiem rolling over in her sleep. She tossed in her dreams, her legs twitching just slightly for some unknown reason. My wing pulled tighter around her. She was one of the most important things in my life. No, not one of but the most important, and I wasn’t going to abandon her to whatever horrors haunted her dreams. She deserved better than that. Better than I could give her. But I had to keep trying.
The storybook sat open on my forehooves. I had barely even moved for hours from where I lay. I wasn’t tired, not really, but the quiet ache of loneliness drove me to sleep each night. Better to sleep with my friends than just sit and stare and wonder what tomorrow might bring. But tonight was different somehow, the story I’d read to Requiem tonight had been a story of the six. The six most important mares in Equestria before the fire which burned the world. Something in it kept me up tonight, aching and gnawing at the back of my mind.
Silently a purple glow bloomed around the book on my hooves as I turned the pages one by one with my magic. Looking at the pictures more than the words, the stories of their struggles. Six mares gathered together, white, orange, blue, pink, yellow and purple. The six colors of the Preacher’s mark. The six colors on the recordings.
They stood together, depicted with energy flung from them towards the form of a great black alicorn. In her mane were stars and flares of the night. Night Mare Moon, the name was familiar but distant, that too gnawed at my mind. I should know these names. Should know their faces. Parts of me insisted on it and others agreed. This should be important, the most important thing in the world. But they wouldn’t come.
Silently I traced by hoof over the image. The purple mare resembled the one I had seen on posters far away in the library. Her name was so close I could taste it. Something I should have known instinctively. It was important, vital. But I couldn’t place it. Not right now.
The pink earth pony, I had seen her as well, in the great palace owned by monstrous raiders. A recording of her was there, which tore at my heart and my mind to see. She needed help. She had suffered greatly in the war. I wasn’t certain how I could know that, I had never met her, had I? She’d died two centuries ago, when the world burned.
A cyan pegasus with a mane of rainbow streaks. I knew her appearance. The figurine which Violet Strings had given me bore her appearance. ‘Be Awesome!’, such advice felt very appropriate somehow despite the distance in time and place between us. She was the mare in the photograph at the library. She had been important to the world beyond just these legends. She’d had an impact. Inspired a generation. Maybe more. That distant feeling of confidence swelled slightly when I thought of her. It chewed at the loathsome feeling of forgetfulness, reminded me that even the greatest ponies weren’t without flaws.
The white unicorn, her name was beyond me as well. But I had seen her writing. Tom had been hers before he was mine. The letter was signed by her magic, as she had left her hoofprints upon the weapon I now carried. My heart felt crushed when I thought of that. She had done something she found personally distasteful for the good of Equestria. Why was I so certain she had? I didn’t know her. I couldn’t know her. But that was what I knew, and that hurt worse.
The last two were unfamiliar to me. I hadn’t found or seen any signs of either of them in my travels. But I knew they should have mattered, should have been somepony important. I couldn’t remember their names, or the stories about them, not any more. But each night, reading them to Requiem brought back memories of a distant time. They were comforting in their distance and diffusion. The illusion of remembering was perhaps preferable to actual memories, the distant foggy thoughts calming and pleasant in their unreality.
As I stared at the image I found my eyes clouding beyond my control. Tears crept from the depths of my mind up my throat and to escape through my eyes. Falling in small drops down my muzzle to land on the book below. The water beaded and fell from the book like it was plastic, the ancient magic meant to protect it from harm working its wonders still. That image ate at my heart, crushed my mind and spat upon my memories. It demanded I know more, and every moment of failure was a horrible thing, born of my loss and sorrow. It gave me hope and reminded me of everything I was missing all at once.
For a long moment I just sat and stared at that image, my heart ground beneath its weight, allowing tears to fall in silence beneath a cloudless, star-lit sky. I had begun this journey with no knowledge of myself, no past, no memories. Parts of me said I’d have been happier if it stayed that way. This horrible feeling wouldn’t be there. The pain of losing everypony I cared about wouldn’t weigh upon me so much. But it mattered.
Desperate for anything to take my mind off my pains I closed the book and turned on my radio, let the words and songs of others drown my sorrows. The trailing end of a jazz song filled my ears, cutting off after only a few moments to be replaced by an aged male voice. Comforting, confident, calm. A voice which could have motivated dozens in happier times.
“Hello out there, all you lost souls in the wasteland. I know there’s not many of you tuned in right now, but I want to let you know that I care about each and every one of you. Without you the wasteland wouldn’t be worth living in. So remember, no matter where you go, there’s someone out there who wants to see you succeed.” It was odd, but even that distant voice gave me some small measure of happiness. I had never met him, would probably never meet him, but even those hollow words calmed my heart just a little. “Now, it’s time for a very special segment, another from the stories of heroism and wasteland rescues.”
Silence reigned for a few moments before a new voice broke in. This one was female, older, but smoother. She was calm, confident.
“You’re listening to the adventures of me, the amazing Argyle Stockings and my stalwart ghoul mareservant Xyra! Today’s episode, Ponies of a Feather Die Together!
“Now, now, dear ladies there’s no need for you to be so single minded!” The sound of hooves moving together filled my ears. Half a dozen ponies must have been working together to make that kind of sound. “Just put your spells down and we’ll talk about this properly!” The sound of a gun cocking was easily audible over the radio.
A different voice filled the sounds now, or rather several voices at once, all perfectly in tune with the same tone and even pronunciation. It sounded like six of the same pony were speaking at once. “You have interfered with the Goddess for the last time!” My heart sank at that word, my memories churning. The Goddess. That title was important. Very important. Painfully so. “Now it is time for your end. Surrender and join the Unity or be extinguished.” Unity. Scraps had mentioned Unity before, when we talked about what I had forgotten. It stirred memories as well. A horrible sense of powerlessness mixed with a wonderful freedom from responsibility in the depths of my mind. That was what the other Alicorns sought to reclaim. It was no wonder it was so hard to get them to listen.
“Come now, ladies. We’ve had this song and dance before, haven’t we? There’s no need for this to end in bloodshed!” The other voice came back, this time she sounded scared, or at least nervous. She was... Expecting something to happen between then and now perhaps? “There’s no need for such harsh prospects. I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial understanding!” The crack of thunder filled the audio followed by gunshots. Evidently, friendly was not the outcome.
Suddenly amidst the chaos of spells and pistols came a veritable blast-wave of noise. A detonation I couldn’t begin to understand how the studio had duplicated, which seemed to mix the worst parts of a grenade and a scream. “Sorry I’m late, boss! These slingshots weigh more than I remember and I had to find an appropriate present for our mutual friends.” Another female voice. This one sounded old, gravelly, weathered, yet not broken. It was upbeat and enthusiastic despite obvious age.
Laughter followed as the sound of the detonation fell away. “Xyra! You munificent zebra, I could kiss you!” You could practically hear the grin which was behind those words. “Why, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up in time. Those ladies were not in the mood to talk at all. Such a pity.”
The sound of hooves descending a staircase filled my ears as this zebra approached her friend, at a guess. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boss. I’d feel like I was robbing the cradle. Maybe you should come back in another century and ask again.” The two shared a laugh as their hoofsteps grew quieter and more distant, fading into low tuba music.
A moment later the original voice of Argyle Stockings broke in again. “Remember to tune in next time for more adventures of me, the amazing Argyle Stockings and my stalwart ghoul mareservant Xyra!” Before the radio cut back to the smooth, calming jazz which had been playing before the special broadcast began.
Slowly, I lowered my head as I thought on that. That could easily have been me, until very recently. It was no wonder ponies reacted with such hate and distrust. But I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t a slave or servant or anything but me. Was I? I didn’t want to be that, not ever again. Even if it might be easier. Even if it might be less painful. Cold fear ran up my spine which I did my best to stamp out.
The feelings of weighty loneliness caught up with me as I closed my eyes, slowly drifting off.
*** *** ***
The approach to Trotonto was slow but safe. It was obvious from the way that the wasteland gave way to once-civilized construction that we were approaching our destination. Outcroppings of ancient highways stood high overhead, the roadwork between their mighty pillars long collapsed. Amidst those few patches still standing I could see clusters of shoddily built houses, with long ramshackle staircases or pulley systems connecting to the ground below. A few ponies were in the process of coming or going from their homes as we passed, though not close enough to see them clearly.
Great billboards stretched skywards above the ruined cityscape as we drew closer, marking where the old roads had run. Most were faded, weathered to the point of being illegible. One, however, stood high and proud and didn’t show any of the fading or damage of the past two hundred years. A cream-colored earth pony mare with a curly two-tone mane and tail, dressed in the most absurdly gem-heavy outfit I had ever seen, stood upright on the image, mouth open.
A flow of magical notes across the image made it clear she was supposed to be singing. ‘This week only, live at the Sunrise Hotel and Casino, Sapphire Shores!’ was written across the top of the image. Beneath it was what had once been instructions to reach the establishment. Somepony, or perhaps griffin given the lack of easy access to the monolith, had scrawled ‘FUCK GHOULS!!!’ in thick black spray paint lettering across the bottom in its place.
Beside me, Arsenal was staring up at the image with no small degree of awe. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was attracted to that mare. But she was probably- “Look at that dress!” -in love with her clothes. Of course. “I wonder if this Trotonto place has anywhere to get clothes like that. If so, maybe I’ll have to re-evaluate my judgements on you muckdwellers and your choice of attire.” Even as she said those words she was strutting ahead of me, heedless of any danger. The promise of fancy clothes apparently motivated her at least as much as the promise of not starving. I couldn’t help but marvel at her bizarre choice of priorities.
Against my back, I could feel Requiem stir just a little, peering out over my head at the distant cityscape as we approached. Hardened, trampled earth slowly gave way to harder, ancient concrete and asphalt. Around us I could see sagging buildings, damaged by centuries of rain water and wind. That they were intact at all was a testament to the way that the pre-war ponies had constructed their homes. The signs of burning were around the edges of the city, ancient craters left pockmarks in the landscape as we crested the small hill at the far edge of the town.
The interior of Trotonto stretched out before us, many of the ancient buildings still mostly intact. Mostly short, squat buildings of brick and mortar. The roads led us onwards towards the town, as we could see a metal wall had been erected around much of the exterior. The wall was a melange of metallic plates, welded together from pieces of salvaged chariots, both land and sky, as well as dozens of sections of metal taken from less distinctive origins. Ponies moved beyond the walls as a small group stood near the lone visible opening dressed in thick combat armor.
As we approached those on duty did little to stop us. This was surprising enough in itself. Everyplace I’d been so far somepony had decided I made a great target. It was enough to make me wonder if my special talent might be getting shot at, sometimes. The placidity of the security here, the way they paid me no more mind than any of the other passing ponies, was a comfort. Yet there were parts of me whose hackles rose at the prospect of being ignored. Both out of fear and out of indignation. We were great! We were strong! We deserved attention! Those feelings ground at the back of my mind like hooves across a chalkboard, as I did my best to ignore them.
As we passed by the group, one of their members stepped into our path. “Whoa there.” Okay, here it comes, they were going to tell me my kind wasn’t welcome here and that we’d have to turn around and go back home. Right? “Before you head into town, there’s something you should know. Now, ponies ‘round here aren’t gonna hate you for the color of your coat or the shape of your body. But you better have caps or a willingness to work. Had a few problems with your kind rolling into town like they owned the place. Rather not have that happen again. So if you’re not here to work, negotiate or trade, I suggest you just keep traveling.” A nervous swallow from the smaller stallion revealed easily the nervousness he had just standing up to me like that.
Bits of me rankled angrily beneath the accusation that I would cause trouble. Other bits were angry that he’d dare to claim we didn’t have a right to travel where we pleased. Most of me just didn’t want any kind of trouble. Better to get the simple answer out first. “I’m looking for the Pasture Passage company. I’ve heard their headquarters are here? Their caravans have stopped coming and I’m here to find out why.” Might as well be forthright. Better than getting shot at, again, over some stupid misunderstanding.
For a moment the stallion looked me and my companions over. Well, companion, I doubted he was even aware Requiem was there with the ferocity she had taken to hiding beneath the mass of my mane. Arsenal just snorted. “Aurora, darling, you shouldn’t be so rude to a pony who’s obviously risking life and limb to protect his home.” She stepped forwards in front of me and gave a warm smile. The first time I’d seen her do that for anypony living on the ground. “You’ll have to pardon my large friend for her lack of manners. Up until recently her only friend was some crazy old mare living all alone in the wasteland. A pity, really. I’m Arsenal and this is Aurora Borealis. We’re looking for the Pasture Passage company headquarters, as she said. But we’re also in the market for other things around town.” The thick red and brown robes which hung off her frame did little to lend any kind of charisma to her statements, in fact they seemed to make him even more suspicious.
The stallion stood quietly a few moments, tapping his chin with a forehoof. “You can find Pasture Passage headquarters down the roads that way. Follow the signs, shouldn’t be hard. Might want to watch out, though, I’ve heard they’ve been having some problems lately. Local employees might not be too happy.” He pointed off in another direction a moment later. “Market’s down that way. If there’s anything else you want you’ll find it somewhere there. Lots of stuff comes here from all over the wasteland. Advantage of being the center of trade and all that.” He gave a look up to me again then back to Arsenal. “Just watch yourself. No stealing, no attacking others, no sabotage. The usual kinds of things. I’d hate to have to shoot a lovely mare like you.” The way he said it made it clear that even though he’d hate it he’d still do it.
I breathed a sigh of relief I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as the stallion moved out of our way. That was easy, at least. Arsenal practically pranced past the guard post, immeasurably pleased with herself. I just sagged a little as we headed on inside. I wasn’t that bad with my manners, was I? we walked down the streets together towards the Pasture Passage headquarters.
The walk wasn’t long as we followed the simply constructed signs hung from half-collapsed buildings towards a small collection of still-intact warehouses. Large, concrete walls stretched two stories high and were shaped into a U with a central loading and unloading yard between them. Dozens of ponies meandered about the main yard, along with many ancient chariots in various states of loading and unloaded. These weren’t like what we’d seen with Tumbleweed, they must have been running far larger quantities of supplies across the wastes with these teams.
Dozens of other ponies, clad in armor ranging from simple leather to heavy shaped metal, hung around the edges of the yard. Most were talking to one another, in various processes of maintaining weapons or drinking. Sharing stories, one would assume, though we didn’t get close enough to find out for ourselves. Most likely they were guard ponies for the caravans which came and went from this place. None of them seemed to be paying us much mind, for which I was thankful. There was enough firepower here to make the town guards blush, it was no wonder they’d warned us about potentially angry employees.
“Hey! What’re you all doing here?” A familiar voice called across the yard. A moment of searching brought my eyes to Tumbleweed as he trotted up towards us. “Surprised to see you lot way out here. What brings you to Pasture Passage headquarters? Looking for work, or just wandering the wastes without purpose?” He gave a surprisingly friendly grin up at me considering the surroundings.
Nervous electricity ran up my spine at the thought that he might consider this normal. “None of the caravans have come to the junkyard. We’re here to find out why. There’s a lot more ponies there now, and they’re going to need food soon...” No doubt there. A week travel out, a week travel back, and a week travel for the caravan even if they came with us back. This wasn’t going to be good, we were cutting the supplies awful close.
Tumbleweed’s smile died down a little bit. “Oh. Well, at least things went alright in that stable, right?” That just made my heart seize up, horrid memories of dieing foals and the awful sight of a pony losing their cutie mark flashed through my mind. Arsenal just silently shook her head with closed eyes. The smile vanished entirely from Tumbleweed’s face. “Oh.” For a moment the four of us were all silent, as the commotion in the yard went on around us. “Well, I’m afraid I have bad news. The boss has corralled all the caravans for now. He’s not letting any of us leave. Rumor is that we’ve lost four caravans to some unknown attackers and he’s worried that we’re going to go belly up. No one knows anything, though.”
“Wonderful. Why can’t it be easy, just once?” I wondered aloud, perhaps not the best idea as it elicited a laugh from Tumbleweed. The frown and annoyed glare I gave back was enough to kill that. “I don’t suppose you could get us in to talk to your boss, could you? We’ve got to get a caravan moving soon or the junkyard is going to start starving. There’s a whole settlement of ponies out there who need supplies. I’m sure he could make a bundle of caps off them if he was willing.” This time I listened to that cynical part of myself. It wasn’t enough to appease a pony with what was best. Better to appeal to their self-interest, yes.
“Well, I suppose I could. It’ll take a bit though. Probably not until tomorrow. He’s busy discussing some kind of plans with his assistants. Dunno any details. But I’ll do what I can.” Tumbleweed pressed a forehoof to his chest. “Being the senior-most caravan driver has to have some benefits, right? Most of us don’t stay in the business very long. Make a good haul and then retire, right? Me, I just like the chance to travel.” He shook his head as he was getting off track. “I’ll go see what I can do. But it’ll be at least until tomorrow before we can. Why don’t you lot go check out the town and come back here tomorrow morning and I’ll let you know what’s going on?”
Arsenal just grinned as she agreed. “Yes. That sounds splendid. We’ll have a chance to check out this wonderful city of yours and find something worth seeing here. I’m sure there’s got to be many valuable things left over in the ruins you’ve seen here.” She didn’t even give me a chance to answer before trotting away behind me, grabbing my tail in her teeth and tugging me after. I could have stopped her, it wouldn’t have been hard, but right now I had to agree with her.
I gave a brief wave of my forehoof before I turned; time to explore the town and find out what there was to this Trotonto. Maybe we’d be really lucky and this would be simple. But most of me doubted it.
*** *** ***
The sounds of the market made finding it easy. Masses of ponies moved between stalls amidst ancient, decaying buildings. Ratty awnings hung from stained tents, patched together from many different pieces of fabric. The waves of pastel ponies mixing and flowing through the market were a comfort and a horror in equal measure. I could feel the eyes on me as we walked, the occasional stare of disbelief, the glare of hatred, but most seemed to ignore me completely. Part of me wondered if this was how Requiem always felt, as though anything she did might set others off into an angry mob.
The market was hardly wall to wall ponies, but I had never seen so many in the same place before. There must have been at least a few hundred spread across all those stalls. Talking, trading, walking. The variety of clothing, some of it clearly taken from ancient high society designs while others wore worn down utilitarian barding, made it clear that these ponies came from many places. How many places could exist like this? Where ponies from across the wasteland might travel even if for only a single day?
Barkers stood upon street corners beneath bent street lamps, calling out to passers by, advertising the stores on old broken streets.
“Come and see our selection-”
“-nothing like them this side of-”
“-guns you’ll ever own!”
Talking over each other to mix with the sounds of ponies doing business. Stylized signs hanging from those rebuilt stalls advertised their products, most clearly built by the owners from sections of salvaged metal, patchwork things built from ancient license plates stolen from broken chariots. For all its life and motion, this was a city of salvage and re-use, a place where scavengers came to pass on their goods and those few with practical skills came to ply their trades.
Arsenal’s voice rose above the crowd. “Well, at least there’s some things you muckdwellers know how to do. I was beginning to worry that nowhere on the surface would even resemble a civilized place.” She let out a huff as she glanced across ponies dressed in once-fashionable attire now half-decayed from age and use. “Though they should learn to take better care of their things.” All I could do was groan a little. She really had no concept of what life was like, did she? Then again, did I? It was only those horrible memories which gave me any perspective at all. “Why don’t you and Requiem run along and see if you can find more of those books or recordings or whatever it is you collect. I’m going to look for something practical.” Without another word she turned and walked away before I could even interrupt her, vanishing into the crowd.
I might have been able to follow her, find her amidst the crowd and drag her back, but this place seemed safe enough. Comfortable enough. A place to rest and relax, to let our guards down just a little bit, maybe. Together with Requiem, I forged ahead through the crowds in the market, amongst the masses of stalls and trading to look across goods and signs.
My eyes, lifted above the mass of ponies, could see others down alleys and hidden from obvious sight. They rested behind ancient dumpsters, wearing neither clothing nor rags, and gathered close with one another. Many seemed twitchy, angry or frustrated, the way they eyed the market. Ponies who had nothing to trade, and nothing left to give. My heart ached angrily at the sight, memories of worse times flashing through the back of my mind. I did my best to ignore them.
Light grey hay, yellow asparagus, twisted and gnarled little apples, cans of peas and carrots from before the war, the occasional tin of soup or box of cake. Such was the bounty of the wasteland on display here. Yet the local ponies seemed content, neigh enthusiastic, about acquiring such ancient goods for their own consumption. It reminded me of Arsenal and the tunnels beneath Central Junction. The irradiated cake wedges she had wanted so badly she didn’t even stop to consider whether they were dangerous. Take away their most basic necessities and ponies would satisfy themselves on anything at hoof.
Amidst the stalls I saw machines, the shattered remains of a once-functional terminal, a set of tools like those Arsenal carried with her. Most were corroded, weathered and beaten. Bent, cracked or even shattered outright, used as a display for the gems within. I couldn’t imagine any ponies here would want to buy spell matrixes, I doubted very much most even knew what they were. But as we walked my eyes fell upon one thing which made my heart leap and lightning race down my spine. A recording, marked with six gems and two alicorns chasing one another’s tails. A mark which matched the preacher’s logs. Another marker in somepony’s path across the wasteland.
The stall wasn’t crowded. The rest of its contents were bits of ancient machines which had been gutted and hung from hooks. Ancient wiring in a variety of colors, cracked gems which would never again channel arcane energy, none of it interested me. Only that recording. The pony behind the stall was a young unicorn, her white coat meshing well with her soft pink mane. No dress nor fanciful clothing marked her, and from where she was standing behind the small stall I couldn’t make out her cutie mark. Her face lit up the moment my shadow fell over her, as though she’d been waiting for anypony to notice her.
“Hello! Hello, hello! Welcome to the World of Junk! I’ve got pieces of machinery brought in from here to Trottingham, can I interest you in some 15 milliether cables? Maybe a Model 12 earbloom?” She reached up with a hoof to poke at one of the collections of cabling and then nudge a small earbloom towards me. For a moment she looked towards me with contemplation. “No. I imagine a pony like you wouldn’t be interested in anything like that. Ah, I know! You must be here to buy one of my amplification crystals! They’re guaranteed up to 2 megaether!” She lifted a large gem from the table, holding it between us. A shimmering blue crystal with five points cut like a star.
All I could do was stare at her in confusion. There was somepony down here who understood this kind of thing? Silently I wished Arsenal were here. She’d have some idea what all this meant. A moment of hesitation and I shook my head. “No... I want the recording.” Motioning towards the tape with a hoof. “Where did you get it?” I wanted to know where this strange pony had come from, the one in the recordings not the one in the booth.
The unicorn just stared at it a moment and blinked. “Really? You want that? Are you sure I couldn’t interest you in some Ministry of Arcane Technology magical charge balancers? They’re great for grounding out excessive arcane energies from devices!” She gave me her best smile and indicated an odd device on the table with a pair of metal prongs on it. I shook my head. She gave a sad sigh. “Awwww. Well I guess it’ll be good to get rid of it finally. Nopony ever seems to want to buy it. Somepony dug it up out of one of the old buildings here after it collapsed a year or two ago.” She lifted the recording from the table in her magic and turned it over. “Fifty caps for the recording. Darned thing is overwrite protected anyway. Can’t use it for anything but playback.”
I dug the caps from my saddlebag without a second thought and dropped them onto the counter. I hadn’t brought a ton of spare money, but Scraps knew enough to let us bring some. “Thank you.” Wrapping the device in my magic I pulled it away from the table. She gave me a sad, almost pleading look. “And I’ll bring my more technically inclined friend back here before we leave town. She’ll probably be interested in what you’re selling.” That instantly cheered her up again. At least it was better than leaving her without anything to hope for, right?
Stepping away from the stall I plugged the recording into my PipBuck and let it play. Preachers Log #3, the earliest of any I had found. In an instant that familiar voice was filling my ears as I wandered the city of Trotonto wherever my legs would carry me, engrossed in the past.
“Blessed be the Goddesses and the Six. May their path lead us back towards greatness and their lessons mark our way.
“Trotonto. It’s nothing like what I imagined. I’d heard stories from mother, I mean the High Priestess, of her times traveling the wasteland when she was a Preacher. But Trotonto is different. There are ponies here, as many as home, maybe more. They live, they cheer, they talk and play. But there’s more here than that.
“The trade companies argue, privately and publicly, I’ve seen it in our time here. A week in this place, each day I find more who will come and listen at least for a time. So many others selling something in the markets, as I stand alone in the small park at the heart of the city. But some come, they listen, they leave. But they listen! I’m sure they’re listening! Even if some of them are probably just there because they have nowhere to go.
“We all have nowhere to go. The wasteland is vast and dangerous, or so I’ve heard. But our words can heal it. It was ponies who damaged it, and it will be ponies who make it right again. All it takes is for us to work together again. Learn the lessons of the past, purge yourselves of the pains of the dead. To work away the damage so many deaths and so much magic did to the world in a single day.
“... I’m sorry, I suppose anypony listening to this probably knows all that already. Still, it’s so exciting! I’ve never been beyond home before except for the walk here. The recorder Makeshift helped put together for mother’s PipBuck is working fine. I’m still amazed she managed to get that thing working again. I didn’t think anypony could fix them! Shouldn’t have doubted her, she is my best friend after all.
“We’ve been in Trotonto about a week now, and we’ll be leaving soon. But there’s still so much more good I think we could do here! When I get back home I’m going to recommend that the Seekers send more here, establish a local church maybe. I think the ponies here will listen, if they’re given the chance. They just need something to believe in.”
A second voice broke into the recording, this one was younger and higher. With an odd sort of flow to it and an even odder choice of words. “Our departure comes quickly from this place, dear Crepe. Would you please stop fiddling with that tape? Packing all these chariots will be quite hard alone. The sooner we get moving, the sooner you help ponies atone!”
The original voice returned a moment later. “That’s Makeshift. She’s a little odd and silly at times. And she knows how much that rhyming annoys me. Ah well, I should get going. They really do need all the help they can get, and we leave from Trotonto in the morning. Heading towards Baltimare. Don’t know much of anything about it. Mother never visited there in her travels. The caravaneers all seem to think the ruins there are dangerous. Hope we won’t run into any serious trouble.
“Talk to you again when I arrive!”
The recording promptly cut out. My wanderings had carried me far from the marketplace. The ruins of an ancient part of town surrounded me. Weathered and broken. No signs of crowds or caravans or trading. As I took a step there was a clatter of wood beneath my hoof. A glance downwards brought my eyes to a sign. A sign which made my collar burn and my blood run cold. My heart seized in my chest. My flanks throbbed in dull pain. The marking of an upside down horseshoe surrounded by a red circle and struck through.
*** *** ***
Rage.
Rage burned in my heart like a blast furnace. Ran down my veins like liquid fire. Seared my muscles. Tinged the whole world red. For a moment all I could see was that symbol, that marking, which should not be. My head throbbed with the weight of the past, the pounding raindrops of memories splashed against my mind a dozen times in a second. Mixed, confused, swirling images born of a stormy mind and a confused past.
Pain.
In anger I flared my nostrils and took a step back. My horn lanced with energy as the board bearing the symbol floated before me. For a moment I stared, the sharp cutting pain of memories dragging against my mind. The pain of times I didn’t want to focus on, but which that sign kept bringing back carried me. My magic grew brighter.
*CRACK*
The board smashed in half cleanly along the grain, cleaving the image in two. My heart danced in my chest, the feeling of joy which that brought almost enough to stomp out the flames of hate. Almost. The beat of magic along my horn stung like lightning which only drove my fury higher. It hurt to stress my telekinesis this way, but it was worth it. My world was red, filled with hate.
*SNAP*
The boards broke again. Now four, cut into quarters. For a moment I held them, floated them before me, my eyes not even seeing what was beyond them. In my fury I flung them across open air with all my strength, the brilliant purple glow terminating in an instant. They smashed through the door of the ancient barn with ease, cutting wood to splinters. My eyes snapped back to reality though it did little to quench my anger.
Around me was an open yard, well-trampled dirt which showed only the faintest signs of having fresh life growing upon it. Steel posts sunk into concrete anchors measured out the yard, once used to support chain link fences. My mind insisted they had been pens. Places where ponies were locked and held without choice or chance. My heart pounded and my collar burned.
The barn before me stood open and without thought I muscled my way within. Empty. Ancient, decaying wood was all that remained within. Not even the usual debris you expected to find in the wasteland. No terminals, no locked boxes, no supplies. Just emptiness. Emptiness which sang to my heart and fueled my anger.
I stormed further within, thinking nothing of what I was doing. In frustration I turned and bucked one of the wooden struts as hard as I could. “Why!?” The beam cracked, but didn’t give way. Another buck. “WHY!?” Again the beam cracked, worse now. The roof sagging just slightly. “Why is it always empty!?” A third buck. The beam gave way. The roof sagged far worse, but didn’t give way. For all its age and abandonment, the barn had been built to last. It wouldn’t outlast this day, I wouldn’t let it.
My mind frothed and raged, screamed and denied. I could feel cold water run down my face, washing away long dried tears. I could hear the drum beat of hooves like ten thousand tears falling upon uncaring earth. I could see ponies, great and small, young and old, marching away into the distance. Each a face I had known once, but meant nothing now. Each a pony who had been here, been here with me. And I could hear that horrible, awful laughter. That cruel, sadistic, twisted laugh I had heard in my memories before.
My mind threw up awful ideas. Horrible prospects. Prospects of destruction and hatred and the desire to destroy. A voice far away and deep down whispered secrets of unmaking into my mind. Like an angry child I seized them without thought. Grabbed the promise of power and the memories to reclaim it. A spell wove through my horn, streaking with flourish and rage. Purple flames burst into existence and danced through the air. For a moment controlled and restrained, then hurled with force into the wood construction which surrounded me.
The burst of heat and smoke was instant. A moment, my shield surrounded me, the fires beyond licking at its edges but not reaching within. My eyes throbbed and vision pulsed. My horn sung with power as the glow around it grew brighter. More flames. More fire. This place deserved to burn. To be unmade. To be ash and forgotten by everypony. So long as even the memory of those who had done such awful things remained the world would never be whole. Such were the voices, neigh demands, which fell upon my mind.
The fire burned brighter, a great plume of smoke rising into the skies, and I stood at its center. My hooves moved without thought in a dance of triumph and fury in equal parts. This place would not harm another. Could not harm another. I would see to it. I had seen to it.
Hooves closed around my throat.
For a moment I thought an enemy had snuck up upon me. Fear and anger mixed in my mind as I tossed and squirmed beneath those hooves. But they were small, not large enough to even wrap fully around my neck. Requiem’s hooves. Requiem. My mind turned to ice as the heat of the flames burned around us. My vision congealed into reality once more. What was I doing? How could I do something like this with her here? She shouldn’t see this. Shouldn’t be this.
Tears welled up in my eyes and in an instant I rushed towards the burning doorway, my magic protecting us from the flames as I fled the shattered remains of the barn. Ponies had begun to gather around the outside, watching the barn burn. I didn’t even stop to look at them. I could feel their eyes upon me. Fear, hate, confusion, curiosity. The thoughts of ponies who hadn’t seen what I had, hadn’t felt what I had. Couldn’t feel it.
I ran. I ran down streets which I had never seen yet were somehow familiar. I ran from my past, from my actions, from myself. Anywhere but here.
*** *** ***
The town whizzed by in a blur of panic and horror. My mind was so wrapped up in what I had done that I scarcely noticed the surroundings changing as I wove through streets without heed. Tears fogged my eyes and made the whole world surreally unfocused, like it was just some bizarre dream.
What had I been doing? Parts of me insisted it was justice, appropriate purging of the evils of the world. Other voices claimed it was revenge, fulfilling and self-mandated. Only one voice spoke against those claims, reminding me of Requiem and that the ponies in that building were long dead. Long dead, like every other pony I had found connected to my past. It wasn’t fair, nothing but ghosts and bones. Was I the only one left? The only sign that my once-friends and family lived at all? My inner turmoil was rudely interrupted when an elderly mare stepped out of a building just in front of me.
*WHAM!*
One of the downsides of being so large is that it’s very hard to stop moving quickly. Despite shoving my hooves as hard as I could into the dust-covered concrete beneath them, I skidded onwards into an unceremonious and violent crash with the elderly pony. Thankfully I wasn’t traveling so fast that the crash was actually dangerous, mostly sending me tumbling from my hooves onto the ground chin-first into the dust and grime of the street. A small pile of it gathering before my chin to mark how far I’d slid. Around my neck Requiem clung for safety, or perhaps just reassurance.
Behind me I could hear some unhappy words being spoken. Well, for certain values of ‘unhappy’ anyway. “My dear lady, you should watch where you’re going. You might seriously hurt a pony with those long legs of yours.” The voice was old, broken, sad. The kind of voice which came from loss and self-blame. My body slumped as a mare with a mint-green coat and faded pink mane stepped before me. She wasn’t as old as Violet Strings, but was obviously elderly. Her mane had started to go grey in streaks. An odd set of diamond-shaped checkers of black and white marked her flanks, something I’d never seen before.
The best I could do from my position face down in the dust was mutter a less-than-useful apology. “I’m sorry. I was... Running away.” The look I got back was perhaps the most skeptical expression I had ever seen. Even her gaze said what was obviously on her mind. “I... I mean... I was...” For a moment I stumbled for words as she looked up from me towards something in the sky.
The mare spoke up to interrupt me a moment later. “You’ve been crying is what you’ve been doing.” She gave a sad kind of chuckle. “That’s okay. That’s what I was planning to do today too.” She reached out and gently helped me back to my hooves, which turned out to be more help than I’d expect from an old mare. “I know a place not far from here. Serve the best whiskey and beer this side of Paint Town. Trust me, I know.” At the mention of alcohol her expression lightened significantly.
I nodded numbly. I had nowhere else to go. She had to have realized the smoke pillar in the distance was my fault by now. This pony wasn’t stupid. Old, but not stupid. She turned without another word and began to move off down the roads. I followed after in hopes of finding some solace for my mistakes. If nothing else, maybe I could find out more about this pony and this town.
*** *** ***
The bar was old, like most of the buildings in town. Built before the bombs fell. The old walls encrusted with dirt and grit blown in off dry plains before the rains had started. A small part of it had been cleaned enough for somepony to mount a plaque on the wall. ‘Ironhide Bar and Grill. We serve meat.’ It made me wonder briefly why they’d need to specify that. Up until the doors swung open and the three of us stepped inside, at least.
The interior was large; this place had been an eatery before the war as well and had plenty of space for seating customers. Dozens of scavenged tables, some of them obviously patched together from multiple pieces of different tables, were set up in the room. Around them were gathered a menagerie of creatures the likes of which I had never laid eyes on before.
Ponies were common enough, a usual sight in the wastes. What was rarer was the nearly dozen griffons sharing drinks and stories spread across the room. But odder still were creatures I couldn’t place. Massive things, standing on short stubby rear legs with massive hulking arms and claws as long as my muzzle. Their broad, flat faces gave them an odd kind of accent I could pick out of the crowd as we moved towards an unoccupied table. Some parts of me threw up warnings about danger from them, but the lot of them seemed more preoccupied in consuming their lunches and drinks than starting any trouble, so I tried to smother that voice.
But, by far, what shocked me the most was to spy another Alicorn. A dark green pony, sitting alone in a corner. She obviously saw me enter, then promptly turned her attention to her drink. For a moment I considered heading over there to talk to her, but I could practically feel the shame coming off her. Whatever had happened to her in the past wasn’t for me to pick at. Instead, I just sat and looked to my companion.
For her part, the mare I had been walking with just gave a surprisingly enthusiastic smile. “Isn’t it grand? Seeing all these ponies and griffins and hellhounds managing to get on together? Even if it’s not over anything but business and caps, it’s still amazing. No place like Trotonto anywhere else in the wastes, I can tell you that.” She lowered her voice almost conspiratorially. “Trust me, I know, I’ve been from here to Grevyi City and back again. Long walk that one, but worth it, when you’re a hero.” A moment after she slumped forwards just slightly and muttered something I didn’t catch.
As I opened my mouth to ask a question, one of the serving ponies arrived at our table. “Ah, Miss Stockings, the usual I assume?” My companion smiled and gave a nod. She came here often enough to have a ‘usual’, which, given what she’d said before, didn’t bode well for what she was running away from. “And what about your friend?” She looked up to me curiously. It was an odd kind of experience in this town. Everywhere else I had gone ponies were suspicious, angry, fearful or abusive. Admittedly my experience with the wastelands was hardly wide and far, but it seemed a strong trend. Here, nopony seemed to even notice what I was, or care.
This time it was my new companion who cut me off. “She’ll have a whiskey. Extra large. Dry.” All I could do was frown a little as the serving pony headed off to get what was ordered. “Trust me. Little whiskey in you will do you good. Especially with all the stuff you’ve been running away from.” Requiem was doing her best to go unnoticed it seemed, and as usual succeeding surprisingly well. Not that I could blame her in a place like this, so full of ponies and other things. “Now... I suppose I should introduce myself, my dear lady.” She offered me a hoof. “Argyle Stockings, Gentlemare Adventurer and Wasteland Hero!” Pride puffed her up briefly and made her look ten years younger before she sagged again. “At least I used to be.”
With some nervousness I shook that hoof, thinking back to the recordings I had heard on the radio before. “Aurora Borealis. Are you really Argyle Stockings? Like the one from the radio..?” It seemed like a stupid question, in hindsight. After all, anypony could have heard those recordings and claimed credit for them. But this one seemed sincere somehow. The way she lit up when she talked about being a hero was familiar somehow, and painful in its own way to see.
Argyle just laughed a sad, lonely sort of laugh. The one which only comes when you’re laughing about your own pain. “Yeah, that’s me alright.” She cleared her throat and spoke again. “You’re listening to the adventures of me, the amazing Argyle Stockings and my stalwart ghoul mareservant Xyra!” Her voice was an almost perfect match to the one on the radio. Which was surprising to say the least, given that I would have guessed those stories were years old. She just heaved a sigh. “Some days I wish I had never sold the stories to the studio. But they paid me enough to make life easy for a long, long time. And at least now the wasteland gets to hear the good times.” She shook her head. “My apologies, my dear, I shouldn’t focus on things like that.”
Parts of me protested the idea that she should bury her past like that. Equestria was truly a dark and weary place if even its heroes ended up broken and alone. “It’s... Uh... It’s good to meet you?” My voice wasn’t exactly reassuring. How did you greet a pony you knew would have killed you not so long ago? “What... What happened to you?” Of course sometimes my mouth had plans it didn’t bother to communicate to the rest of me until it was too late. “Um... I mean... That is... If you’re okay with sharing..?”
Argyle just gave me a sad kind of look and then frowned. “You ever seen a dragon? Like a real one, up close and personal?” I shook my head, I hadn’t even seen a fake one! “Long, long time ago, feels like a lifetime now, Xyra and I were out dealing with slavers, scum of Equestria they are, down around Pleasant Acres. Bastards were tougher than we expected.” Her voice took a dark turn, from the polite and upstanding mare towards something much darker. “We couldn’t beat them all, so we had to run. There’s some mountains not far from there. Fled into the cliffs with them chasing after us. Down into the caverns.”
As she explained, the drinks finally arrived. She had a single large glass with some kind of green drink inside which seemed to match her coat color almost exactly. Even from where I was sitting I could smell the spices in it. Before me was a much larger wooden stein of brown liquid, big enough to serve four normal ponies. Like the sort on the label of the Sweet Apple Acres Apple Cider bottle I had found, except massive.
Without hesitation Argyle downed a mouthful of her drink. “Keep them coming.” Her instructions to the serving mare who just gave me an apologetic look and headed back away from us. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The caves. Long, winding, dark caverns full of bloodwings and radhogs. Just your basic wasteland vermin most of the time. No big deal. It was the slavers we were worried about.” She stared into her drink quietly a few moments. “Up until it happened. Never even saw the damned thing. Just those awful points of light in the darkness and the acidic smell in the air. Then suddenly everything was on fire.” She shuddered a little and shook her head. “White flames ate everything. Scorched the walls, burned the bats, roasted the radhogs. I was lucky enough to be close to a side tunnel, managed to get out of the path of the flames. But Xyra...” She downed another mouthful, tears welling up in her eyes. “Xyra didn’t... I’ve seen her survive some impossible things. But being burned to death by a dragon? I don’t think even a ghoul could survive that.” She slumped again, staring at her drink as tears began to run down her cheeks. “Now look at me. I’m a useless old wreck without her. Don’t deserve to be called a hero any more.”
All I could do was offer a hoof and a reassuring smile. Not that I felt much like I could reassure anypony. Not after the way I had acted. “It... It could be worse..?” Argyle just sort of looked up at me with an angry glare which made it clear she didn’t think it could. For a moment I levitated the whiskey and took a long mouthful. The taste wasn’t bad at all, and the warm tingle it left in my guts as I swallowed was nice. “You’re still alive. That’s got to count for something, right?” Part of me knew what was coming next even before she said it. It still hurt.
“Be better if I were dead. Then at least it’d be over. Can’t die now, though. Not after what happened to Merry. Cross would never forgive me. Can’t do that to her. She’s the only grand daughter I’ve got. Even if she doesn’t believe my stories.” Argyle finished her drink just in time for another to be delivered. It seemed that she had set her own kind of rhythm with the locals.
Slowly I downed another mouthful of my drink, bits of warm spacious feeling creeping into my mind. “... Don’t say that. Dead is dead. It’s never better.” Parts of me protested, fueled by that feeling of disorganization the alcohol was creating. Claimed that sometimes things were worse than death. I could see the body of a foal broken beneath my hooves. Another with a slit throat hurling through the air. I closed my eyes and willed it to stop, doing my best to clamp down on those feelings as I downed the rest of the drink in a single pull. Trying to drown my memories in that warm comforting feeling. It wasn’t hard to see how Argyle had chosen this path.
The warmth and disorientation grew stronger with each mouthful. Making the world swim slightly around me, disoriented and disorganized thoughts rambled through my mind as Argyle and I shared stories and consolation for one another. The details lost to the foggy haze of being drunk. For hours the two of us sat together, until Argyle had to leave. Then I stumbled from the bar, confused and broken, tears staining my cheeks and pain heavy in my heart. What had I said? What had I done?
In a haze I stumbled through the streets, aimless again.
*** *** ***
Darkness consumed the sky, the last distant rays of hope from a dieing sun giving the faintest vestiges of belief in a better tomorrow before sinking completely. The shadows loomed in dark alleys as my alcohol-fueled haze carried me through twisting and confused streets. Motion swam at the corners of my vision as I struggled to remain standing. The twisted shapes of almost-ponies and mumbled nonsensical words flowed from areas beyond the illumination of ancient, flickering street lights. Deals with purpose and reason which eluded my drunken mind. Slowly I shambled through darkened streets with no direction.
*WHUMP*
Sudden contact with something hard brought my attention back from contemplating the deep philosophical significance of the cracks in ancient pavement. Before me stood another Alicorn, grand and imposing. She seemed to tower over me, eyes alight with inner power, her body poised with deliberate power as she stared down at me with disdain. In a moment of weakness I collapsed to sit. Her voice rumbled like thunder as she spoke, “Aurora Borealis. You disgrace. You coward. You who would forgive those who visit the crimes against others which pained and broke you. Terrified child.” How did this Alicorn know me? Her angry red eyes bored into me like the lance of a magical beam weapon, searing my heart and turning my blood cold.
“I-I’m n-not-” I stammered a response as best I could, only to be cut off by a snort from the other Alicorn.
“Do not lie to me, child. You fear what you are. You hate the gift which was given to you. Terrified of being a ‘monster’. Laughable. Pathetic.” My head pounded and tears welled up in my eyes once more. No. No! That wasn’t... I wasn’t... I fought and saved ponies. I had... I had made a difference. Arsenal. The Applejack’s Rangers. Requiem. Requiem!
In a moment of frustration I lept to my hooves to respond. “I... I’ve saved ponies! Helped them! I’m not a monster! Just... Just look like one! Requiem is safe because of me. Arsenal is still alive because of me!” The gaze of this other alicorn did little to change or even recognize my response.
The flaming snort which followed filled the air with thick, caustic smoke. It burned my lungs and seared the eyes, making my tears of sadness mix with those of pain. “You? You did nothing! You pathetic, ungrateful child! You stood in fear and confusion as We did what was necessary! We slew your enemies. We held you aloft when monstrous ponies would have slain you and hurt others. As We always have.” No... No that wasn’t true. I had done those things alone! Hadn’t I? My head was spinning and pounding from the choking thickness of smoke around me.
The voice of the alicorn before me echoed with each word as she spoke, like a thousand voices speaking together, each only subtly different from the others. “We are Great and Powerful! We would command the wasteland to Our whims! We would make the world whole again! We would prove that we are the chosen, not monsters. You? You would cry. You lack the will to save anyone!” No, no that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true! I wasn’t a monster! I wasn’t... I wasn’t this -thing-!
Anger and sorrow roared inside me in equal measure. The distant voices of my past were silent, though I couldn’t fathom why. “I’m not... I’m not a monster... Not a monster... Never a monster...” I stared at the ground near the hooves of the mighty alicorn before me. “Not... Not a monster... Not like you... Never like that... Weak, worthless, selfish, but not a monster.” My heart was ice in my chest with each word. It felt like I was trying to deny the very weight of the world upon my withers.
That great angry voice roared around me, the heat of her gaze carving along my body as she stood without motion. “Not a monster? Look at yourself! You who were blessed by the Goddess! Who knew the True Unity! Who believed in the future of all ponykind enough to throw away your past! Now a crying child. Who, with fear, crushes and, with anger, destroys! There is no reason to believe yourself a monster. Yet you do. Because you fear Us and what We could be.” It wasn’t true. I wasn’t... I wasn’t like that. I wouldn’t have agreed with what she was saying, never. Never, never, never! Somewhere from the recesses of my mind the sight of a dieing foal sailing across open air cut through my thoughts. Never. Never again. Never like that.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood before the one who judged me, whose voice spoke with the weight and fury of my past. Who was she? How could she even know me. “... I... I...” My voice was lost, words burned away by the rage and indignation of this horrible thing before me. All I could do was sit and listen. But there was something wrong with what she said.
“You wretch who cannot even muster the courage to stand to Us! You who should be the Great and Powerful. Who should stand astride the world and shape it to your whims! Who should be strong and never forgive nor forget in your endless crusade for what is right! That was what you promised, wasn’t it? What you promised to-”
Something beneath her voice reached my ears, even in all the fury and anger and rage and volume which she spoke with, a quieter, sadder voice reached me, which seemed to drown out her anger with depth and loneliness. “-forgive me of my sins and let the darkness swallow them up to be forgotten. Those choices made in haste and sorrow which mark me forever, let them be carried far and away and hidden from all; that only I need carry their burden. Please forgive me-” A quiet prayer, distant and sad and lonely, born of some past mistake and horror. Somehow that voice felt worse, sending ice along my spine and making my whole body feel frozen as I endured the angry tirade of the great behemoth before me.
“-beneath your attention! To think one such as you would even deign to speak to such lowly peasants is a travesty! The Goddess knew the truth, and she shared it with Her children. Now you choose to deny it!” Witheach word she grew larger, the flames in her eyes hotter. “You who fear to be a monster will never be savior or hero. Who would die a thousand tiny deaths of fear and sorrow and loss rather than save a single life! Who has forgotten their oath and purpose in the world!” Her mane was ablaze, tail flaming and filling the world with destructive rage. I felt like a foal by her side, barely large enough to reach her knees as she towered above me. “You do not deserve this life given to you by the Goddess and Her chosen! Surrender to Us! Let Us free! We will do what you cannot! Make this world whole and healthy again in a way you cannot even imagine!”
“No... No! I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! I... I...” I stared upwards, silent and unmoving, frozen with fear and regret and sorrow and loneliness. Some great horror had conjured this monster from the beyond and now it threatened to swallow me whole. What had happened here and why? My thoughts could not proceed, as though my entire mind were consumed by the rant of a single, angry pony.
“Aurora? Who’re you talking to?” A familiar voice cut through the rage and anger of the great behemoth before me. In an instant the flames consumed her and she vanished into smoke. The world throbbed in pain as my mind crashed back to reality. A cold wetness ran down my spine from rain falling far above as the dim illumination of a street light cast reflections on the surface of an ancient store window.
For a long moment I sat in confusion and pain. My head was still thundering with her words, the chorus of discordant voices in my head confusing and garbling my thoughts. “No one. Just me.” The words spilled from my mouth even before thinking, without even realizing what they meant. Exhaustion and alcohol mixed to make my thoughts muddier than they should have been.
Arsenal just let out a quiet chuckle and trotted up beside me. “Come along, darling. Let’s get you out of this rain and into a nice warm building. I met somepony I think you’ll like. And she’s agreed to let us spend the night. Well, in exchange for my purchasing something a tad more extravagant than I expected. But now that’s nothing to complain about, is it?” She let off another giggle and began to lead me away from the mirrored surface. “Requiem was quite worried about you! I was surprised when she came bursting into the shop and practically dragged me out by my tail to find you. Still don’t know how she managed to find me, come to think of it.” She tapped her chin a few moments in thought.
With head low and eyes still burning from tears, I let Arsenal lead me through the empty streets. The horror of having worried Requiem so much was too big for my aching mind to grasp. Enough sorrow for one day.
*** *** ***
Exhaustion had overtaken drunken stupor by the time Arsenal led me back across town. My legs ached and weighed me down like iron chains despite my freedom. Arsenal, by comparison, seemed to be filled with life and color even more than usual. “... was a hard choice, but that’s alright. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to get what you want.” She’d been going on about the dresses and the day’s purchases ever since we started walking together. The soft weight of Requiem on my back slowly filtered into my mind as the alcohol-induced hallucinations faded. I hadn’t the heart to look back and see if she was crying or hurt.
The small door of the shop swung open with the slightest screech of protest from ancient, rusted hinges. It was some small miracle that this town even held together. A testament - and epitaph - for the builders of the years before balefire scoured the lands. Warm orange light filled my vision, blinding me to the world for a brief moment as we moved through a door-frame which felt two sizes too small to be comfortable. Its rounded construction barely high enough that I didn’t have to duck, and frame not even large enough for me to unfurl my wings. Exhaustion prevented any sadness at the way the world constantly reminded me I didn’t belong.
An unfamiliar voice cut through the diffused fog of my thoughts. “Ah, so you found your friend then? She’s bigger than I imagined. You should have mentioned she was one of those winged unicorns.” The voice wasn’t filled with anger or disdain or hate, just curiosity. “I don’t get many requests for dresses by your kind.” the mare walked up until she was standing beside me. A soft mint-green coat and darker forest-green mane gave the unicorn a distinguished and well-maintained appearance. “But that shouldn’t be a problem for me. So don’t you worry, I’ll take care-”
“Oh, nonono. We didn’t come to buy her a dress! Though I suppose she might look nice in something with some frills and maybe a nice set of ribbons in her mane...” Arsenal interrupted the other mare, which got her a mildly annoyed stare. I was, at this point, too tired and sad to even bother protesting that I didn’t deserve a dress. “Or maybe with one of those tiaras you had on display in the front window?”
The unicorn turned and waved a hoof to Arsenal. “Please, I am an artiste! Cloth is my passion and color my preference. Do not concern yourself with trying to second guess my designs. But if not for a dress then why -did- you bring her here? She smells of whi- alcohol and tears.” She gave me the briefest of condescending looks, but I couldn’t blame her. I probably looked a mess as well.
Arsenal frowned at that and stared at me. My eyes traced back up that stare and only just then noticed she wasn’t wearing her armor. She’d been out and about with her wings on display. That was odd, and dangerous. “Well, I was hoping you could teach her your spell for mending dresses and cleaning things. The level of filth when traveling with her has been just unacceptable. And I’d so hate the lovely things you’ve made me to get damaged and have no way to fix them.”
The unicorn stood and contemplated that, tapping her chin. Just as she opened her mouth to speak again there was a resounding slam from the back door and a much more familiar voice calling out, slurred and surprisingly happy. “Cross Stitch! Ah’m home! Ah mehd ah new friend!” Argyle Stockings’ drunken slur was notable; evidently she’d been drinking just as much as me and with far less body mass to absorb it all. The Earth pony stumbled through a rear door with a loopy grin on her face. “She was reheheheally nice! Shared lotsa stories, listened to th’ ones about Xyra an’ me and didn’t give me no lip about them not being true!” She was drenched with rain water and looking at us through a matted mane which must have obscured most of her vision.
The unicorn, Cross Stitch I’d assume, responded with frustration and a snort. “Granny Argyle! What’s wrong with you, bursting into my shop drunk and all wet? I’ve got customers!” She stormed across the room towards the drunken old mare. “And you’ve been spreading those crazy stories of yours around again? I know the wasteland is dangerous, but the fact that that mare from Grevyi City was willing to pay you for those crazy old stories wasn’t enough? Now you’ve got to go spreading them around Trotonto too? Are you trying to make me a laughingstock?” It was obvious this was a conversation they’d had many times before, as Argyle didn’t even seem to notice her grand daughter’s words.
The elderly mare just straightened up a little and peered through wet mane. “She was really nice. One o’ them ahl-i-corns. Like th’ one you got over there!” She waved a hoof in my direction. I fought the urge to cover my face in my own hooves. She didn’t even recognize me. No surprise, really. But I’d have hoped the collar or PipBuck would give it away. “Really, really nice. We got t’ drinkin’. She sounded really sad. Said she’d come a long, long way to help her friends. Ah remember when Ah left home, just t’ help whomever Ah could. Was a-”
The unicorn cut her off with a snort. “A sad and cold day in the midst of winter beneath the thick grey clouds, on the third day of a freezing blizzard as food was running short. I know granny, you’ve told me that story since I was two years old.” She gave a defeated sigh and raised her head to look to us. “I can’t really spare the time for proper magical training right now. But I have a book I could sell you with the dresses. It’s got plenty of useful information in it about everyday spells. I can’t do most of them, but it might be useful for her.” Argyle was rambling on about something which her granddaughter silenced with a hoof in the mouth. “Why don’t the three of you head upstairs? There’s a spare bedroom where you can spend the night while I work on your order. First, though, I’ve got to see my ‘dear, sweet’, old grandmother to getting cleaned up and into bed.” The sarcasm in her voice was palpable.
Arsenal just gave an excited grin and nodded her head. I didn’t even have the energy to protest knowing Argyle. My pegasus companion lead us up ancient, creaking stairs towards a large room on the second floor. Not the largest, perhaps, but large enough. My head was throbbing by now, the sounds of yelling making what would have been a soft thump into a splitting agony. Argyle and Cross Stitch were arguing. Well, it was more like Argyle rambling on with a story and Cross Stitch responding with annoyance. Part of me ached inside to see a pair who should be so close fighting so much. But I didn’t have the energy for any kind of emotions right now.
Without ceremony I dropped to the floor beside the single bed in the room, which Arsenal had already promptly claimed for herself. On my back Requiem stirred. At first I thought she might go for the book, ask me for a bedtime story which I lacked the enthusiasm to give her. Instead she crawled beneath my wing and just cuddled to my side. The almost-silent sound of her breathing a soft percussion as I closed my eyes and fell into darkness.
A silent, dreamless sleep was a mercy after the madness of being awake.
*** *** ***
The morning passed in a hung over blur, as my mind throbbed with regret over yesterday’s outbursts. Anger, rage and sorrow all became regret through the lens of hindsight. I had destroyed, raged and hated for the mere symbol of that which had once been. The voice in my mind which kept reminding me that I was grander and superior to others was more insistent than normal. What I had done was right, justified, appropriate. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt hollow and meaningless.
Arsenal exchanged words with Cross Stitch early in the morning, though in my post-alcohol haze I barely caught more than a few moments of conversation. It seemed that Cross Stitch had worked through the night on a special order for the pegasus, to have it ready for our likely departure today. I didn’t want to spend more time than necessary here in Trotonto, especially not after yesterday.
The whirlwind of events soon found us back at the Pasture Passage compound, its main yard a bustling excess of activity entirely too early in the morning. Tumbleweed found us first, “Howdy! Glad to see you all made it back alright. Hope your first night in the big city didn’t set you too far back.” He lowered his voice in hushed tones. “Heard someone burned down one of the old barns in the abandoned part of town.” An icy chill ran down my spine. “No one seems to have any idea why, though. That place had always been bad business, though. Slavers used to own it, till the sheriff ran them out maybe fifty years ago.”
Fifty years. The barn had been abandoned for at least half a century. The cold along my spine seemed to melt and slide along my ribs to settle as a frozen block in my heart. Fifty years. Everypony in my memories was probably long dead by now. Even longer than I had thought. Somehow having a number to put on it made it so much worse than before.
Arsenal spoke up, finally drawing my attention closer to her. “Slavers? I can’t imagine -why- they’d choose to set up in such an upstanding and wonderful place as this. Why, it has the only dress shop I’ve seen anywhere in the wasteland!” A dress shop she had apparently taken good use of, judging by the odd changes to her armored robes. Cross Stitch must have been every bit deserving of her name, having managed to cover over most of the metal plating with finer red cloth. It looked like the interior of the outfit had been redesigned as well. Though it was still hardly flattering, it was at least probably more comfortable.
My head was pounding lightly from emotional exhaustion and the left over daze of excessive alcohol consumption. Even my voice sounded foreign to my ears for the first moments of speech. “Did you manage to get us in to talk with your boss?”
A moment of silence followed, as my heart skipped a beat. It felt like the entire yard went silent, though I don’t think it did. After a few beats of my skull's hangover-metronome, Tumbleweed finally answered. “Well... Sortof. See, the boss wouldn’t sign on to see you directly... But... Well, I did get something almost as good. See, I told you the reason everyone says he’s been holding caravans here, right? Well, found out the truth. Nothing we’re sending’s getting through to Baltimare.”
All I could do was give him a confused look. What did Baltimare have to do with the Junkyard? “Baltimare’s just about the biggest settlement you’ll find anywhere around these parts. Well, except Trotonto, anyway. And Pasture Passage has been trading with ‘em longer than anyone. The boss goes way back with the settlement’s founders. Anyway, without the resources we get trading with Baltimare, the company’s coming really close to being unable to actually pay for anything. No Baltimare, no Pasture Passage.”
I let out an involuntary groan. I could already see where this was going, and I didn’t like it at all. “But I got the boss to agree to send one of the caravans up towards the Junkyard. It was weird, to be honest, never really talked about that place much with him before. After I told him about Scraps, though? Almost seemed like he was chomping at the bit just to get a chance to send someone out there!”
I breathed a sigh of relief and Arsenal broke into the conversation. “Well, that’s excellent news! Then we should depart with them, shouldn’t we? After all, we don’t want to be late getting home to the celebrations!” Somehow I just knew there was an unspoken ‘and away from all this unwashed rabble’ on the end of Arsenal’s words. At least she had the tact not to say it out loud.
Tumbleweed gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Um. About that... See, the boss may have been excited, but we’re still really short on ponies to do the jobs we need done. So to get him to agree to it, I kind of promised you lot would come with us to Baltimare and figure out what’s going on out there.”
Well it wasn’t the worst outcome possible, and meshed pretty well with what I was planning anyway. Still would have been nice to be warned ahead of time. A quiet, involuntary sigh passed my lips. “Okay. One more rescue mission, and then we can go home.” Really, all I wanted to do was crawl under a blanket and sleep for a week. But today was not my lucky day.
A grin migrated to the earth pony’s face. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. It’s probably just some new group of raiders or some gang which thinks they’re hot stuff setting up on the roads. Usually they’re pretty safe, not many ponies crazy enough to try and hit any of the well defended trade routes after all. But every once in a while someone causes some trouble.” He paused briefly. “Still, awful lot of ponies gone missing. Glad to have someone like you on our side!”
Someone like me. I wondered whether he meant someone who would try to help others, or whether he meant an alicorn, but the truth was I really didn’t want to know the answer. “Let’s just go...” Requiem shifted on my back slightly, steadying herself as we moved towards the nearest wagon.
“Think you can haul a wagon? Makes things easier for the rest of us.” I gave a silent nod, and was soon strapped into one of the half-dozen chariots which had been patched together from bits and pieces of other, broken, chariots.
Arsenal wasted no time at all taking position on the back of the laden vehicle along with Requiem. She didn’t even bother asking whether it was okay to ride rather than pull and I was in no mood to argue. Around me other ponies were getting strapped in, weapons were loaded and readied and supplies checked, and carts filled with goods and supplies.
By noon the long walk to Baltimare had begun. Vast, empty wasteland stretching towards infinity before us.
Notes:
Aurora Borealis (Level Up! - Level 11) New Spell: Flames of Wrath (Rank 1) - Hatred, rage and destruction have their place in a world as twisted and pained as the wasteland, and you have learned the secrets of harnessing their power. You can now summon flames which manifest your emotional state to assault your enemies or show off for your friends. Be careful, you wouldn’t want to set the world on fire!
Silent Requiem (Level Up! - Level 10)
Arsenal (Level Up! - Level 10) Quest Perk: Dressed for Success - The miracles of a dressmaker’s shop are amazing even in a fallen era. The expert care and attention garnered to your clothing has granted you +1 to your Charisma while interacting with others in a peaceful manner. You also occasionally gain new special conversation options reflecting your particularly high class style.
