Six years later…

I walked into the blinding light being generated by Daunting Times and fell back a step into the darkness of my room. Adjusting from darkness to light had always been a problem for me and that had not changed over the years. Looking to the office which joined my new room to Stable 77 I took a moment to wave to Daunting herself; she was a beautiful mare with a hazardous grey coat and long red hair laced with streaks of black. Her cutie mark which rested just beneath the utility barding she had on was that of a Stable door, the large gear like object which perfectly sealed off our little sanctuary from the harsh environments of the world.

She looked at me and smiled her winning smile, one of the few ponies in Stable 77 who was always happy to see me; her motherly voice calling out as I made my way across the office to the front door, pushing for it to open.

“Good morning Overstallion. Did you have a good sleep?”

“I tell you time and time again to call me Sunny.” I groaned pausing in the now open doorway, replying through the mechanical hiss of the door.

“That’s not proper protocol.” Daunting replied tidying up some files with her hooves; eyes leaving me for her work.

With a defeated sigh I left the room to deal with the problem at ‘hand’.

It should go without saying by this point in the story but I’ll clear some things up for you: I did become OverStallion, just one year prior when my mother passed away. The radiation poisoning that she had been living with since my birth having taken its toll on her. It wasn’t unexpected for after my party when she was interrogating me (questioning would be a massive understatement) about the swords which had been worn around my waist I had confronted her about her message. It was something that happened over time, the way everypony should die I would like to believe (not from radiation poison of course), with a set time to do everything one pony wishes to do and clear up any loose ends that would cause regret. My mother had trained me to be OverStallion, my father helped guide me in terms of my skills and abilities and the governors, the six mares who helped watch over Stable 77 with me acted as advisors in my times of need.

Of course this is not to say my becoming the OverStallion was an easy venture…My mutations made me unpopular and feared but beyond that my isolation from the families and other ponies in Stable 77 made me completely unbiased. As their OverStallion only I would provide the completely unbiased…love? Is it love? I’ll say it was love that I gave them; this unbiased love would allow me to guide the Stable with the gentlest hand and the fairest of decisions. It coupled with the fact that I was already trained for the job, I suppose, was what allowed the governors to accept a mutant like me as a leader.

At this point in the story I suppose it’s time to explain to you just how mutated I was compared to the other ponies… And I assure you that keeping myself as vague as possible was on purpose, but at this part of the tale (very early on I know) it will be hard to tell how I shaped myself to be the OverStallion this Stable needs without you being aware of who I am and how I appear.

I stand, erect, on two legs (weird I know) a full height of six feet and seven inches, an impressive scale compared to everypony else who ranged roughly four to five feet tall at best. My fore-legs (the Doctors refer to them as being ‘arms’, some term used to describe the limbs of monkey’s from a time long lost) were long, starting just below my neck and ending just above my knee; tipped with odd ‘hands’ topped with five ‘fingers’ (again the bloody monkey speak) on each side. Now this mutation is one that I have not only come to accept but enjoy, these fingers allowed a level of manipulation of my environment far superior to earth ponies and Pegasi, though thinking of my deformities in a positive light isn’t something I’m in the habit of doing. My hooves were replaced with ‘feet’ like that of a dog’s I suppose though the medical personal have informed me that the shape is far different; for one I have no claws. My skin was bare (mostly, I find myself growing hair in the most unusual of places…) and my mane was short and black a colour to match my eyes; ears rested, misshapen and bizarre just above my jaw on the side of my face, unmoving and static. I had no tail, or muzzle; my face far flatter then my companions. I had a nose a lot more prominent then the other ponies and sadly it did not seem to enhance my sense of smell over theirs. My outfit? Well I was wearing my Stable 77 jumper, a blue body suit of denim with leather straps and some reinforced shoulder and waist plating with a large, yellow “77” over the left chest and a larger “Prop. of Stable.co 77” on the back, the words above the letters as a form of subtype. Not that anypony could see that ‘77’ for two years ago my mother and the science ponies down on the lab floor (level 3) had designed a cloak for me out of a synthetic fiber down in the basement, I almost never took it off. The fabric (as far as I can tell) is woven from a strong fiber that was used in vest during the war, and to make it more malleable it was spun and woven upon itself constantly through the use of unicorn magic until it became as thin as silk while retaining the iron hard properties. Applying layer after layer of this ultra-thin fabric they managed to create a synthetic sheet of “bullet-proof” (it could stop 9mm. rounds at 30 yards, any closer and they figured would risk damage) which they died and shaped into a cloak as a OverStallion coronation present for myself. The cloak itself was a jaded black (one of the five dyes that we had access to in the Stable) and on its body was a brilliant and yellow ‘77’; very simple and minimalistic…for a cloak that is to say.

My swords remained at my side, tied around my waist at all times unless I was asleep (and I made sure they were arm’s length should I ever need them) or showered. They had as far as I and anypony else in the Stable could tell never lost their sheen, their sharpness and their lethality. There was an almost magical flash of light along their length each time I pulled them from their sheath; a brilliant shade of violet and orange dancing along their cold, cold metal. I had used them to cut through a locked door during an emergency lock-down which had trapped a small group of colts and fillies from the local school house inside a room filling with smoke from an electrical fire. The blades cleaved through the door like it was paper (though I’ll admit my arm ached for weeks after, odds are adrenaline helped full my personal strength), the blade not damaged in the slightest. It had become obvious that they were enchanted but how was impossible to determine the art of reverse-engineering a magical enchantment having been lost to the Stable since the first generation was lost.

I had come to spend three hours every day (whichever three I found myself to be free in) in the training room, alone; all other ponies cleared out for my own personal training. I had learned (self-taught) methods of meditation, and over time developed my own sword style; when not busy developing technique and steadying my hands I spent my time working out with all of my might. My muscle structure, though extensive, did not have the raw mass of the other ponies in Stable 77; I was weak and the weak are not meant to lead. It was a painful experience, to be reminded time and time again that I was inherently weaker than the other ponies; one that I did everything I could to compensate for. Speed training, cardio and stamina, reflexes, muscle mass, and above all else control. I had developed a natural talent for swift, silent movements which was all too helpful as the OverStallion and would remain useful in this moment.

For I had just turned another dull and stainless steel corner at the bottom the stairs leading to level 2 and there, on my E.F.S. was the red aura of a hostile.

The scene before my eyes was exactly as I had expected, there was Thrash…that bully from my days as a school-colt, with his deep burgundy coat and wild fiery mane of wild red and orange; cutiemark of a golden crown dripping in shadows on his flank. He was standing (panting I might add) over the beaten and bruised body of Samah Pooke, an earth pony with a light vanilla coloured coat and chocolate swirl mane (though the bruises and blood on his coat made it appear more strawberry then vanilla). Behind the two stallions was Downpour, an attractive Pegasus mare with a deep grey coat and long gently blue hair that curled around her neck slightly; she was hiding her face behind one hoof, not able to block my view of the bruise on her eye. Thrash raised his thick foreleg again, not noticing me arriving on the scene (he must not be looking for that red aura on his E.F.S.).

“Don’t you ever tell me what I can and can’t do again you piece of shi—“ I cut him off as he went to slam down on what I assumed were Samah’s already broken ribs.

Swinging down (years of crouching beneath the lower ceiling had made me an expect at falling to my knees) beneath Thrash’s uplifted hoof I delivered a sharp backhand to his leg which sent him off balanced; my left ‘hand’ gripping the lower katana on my right hip (they were set one above the other) the blade spinning out at my command coming against Thrash’s bare throat and stopping just against his skin. No matter what I did I could never cross the line, I was their protector not their dictator… a neighbour not a monster.

Thrash did all he could to stop himself from spitting in my face and attempting to split my skull on that risen hoof. I could see the unbridled hate in his eyes.

“He started this.” Thrash said, claiming self-defence was his common alibi and regrettably nopony ever spoke up against it and accepted whatever punishment offered.

“It doesn’t look like that to me, Thrash.” I said calmly, keeping my cool; blade not moving.

“Well you only saw the end it.” He spat the poisonous words at me, knowing that it was true.

“Defence or not there are limitations within reason Thrash and this has to sto—“ my voice cut off as Samah reached out his slightly bent hoof (and not bent naturally) and brushed my leg. There was a small shake of his head a simple body message relaying that he would not go against Thrash if I were to take him to the elders. The panting in Thrash’s throat slowed and the red aura on my Pipbuck had faded to white so I set my sword back in my sheath and turned away; disgusted. I knew what happened here but half of the cameras in the Stable were down to conserve energy, without and Overseer who was a unicorn power was lacking greatly and would tax the governor’s extremely for myself to demand them power all the electronics with their magic (the generator on power down mode for maintenance within the core). Thrash had gotten mad at Downpour (his fillyfriend, though out of fear I’m sure) for doing something, such as being too kind to Samah and had struck her for it, and Samah in her defence attempted to do what every real stallion in that situation would do and had earned his position because of it. But without the cameras and nopony to act as a witness there was no proof and the governor’s would side with Thrash (the fact that his mother was on the board and his father had replaced my own as security chief would have nothing to do with it I’m sure). But I was in control, I had to remind Thrash the moment he took a hoof out of line that I could pin it on him than I would and it would come down hard.

Sheathing my sword I turned away from the seething earth pony and wrapped my arms around Samah’s body to carry him; not enjoying how he winced at my touch hoping that I wasn’t causing more pain. “When I’m done taking Samah to the medical bay, Thrash, I’ll come have a chat with you, I think it’s about time somepony reminded you of what it means to be part of this family.” That’s what Stable 77 was to me, a family that I was in charge of, a family that was mine to protect. I was their unwanted and deformed uncle while at the same time being their guiding light and head; a precarious position I was all too well aware.

A flash of red on my E.F.S. reminded me just how ‘unwatned’ I was by someponies who would see me tossed from the Stable before accept me as their leader. My voice was as cold as death; there was no cracking in it this time as I crouched motionless with Samah in my arms. “Do it Thrash. Give me one good reason to lock you up for good, maybe then I can keep GOOD stallions out of the clinic.” I felt the shiver run through Samah’s spine; I had effect more than just my target it seemed.

After a dangerously long pause where I opted not to move I saw the red aura on my Pipbuck fade to white.

“Move Downpour, we’re leaving.” Thrash said the spite in his words palpable. “Move, now!” he barked harshly, with a whimper the downtrodden mare followed him off into the corridors leading to the living quarters, hopefully not to another beating. Every part of me wished she would stay and stand up for Samah, but every part of me knew she never would.

“Let’s go Samah, it’s a long walk to the clinic.”

_________________________________________

“I’m really sorry about this OverStallion; I know you’re very busy…” Samah said as I paused halfway up the flight of stairs I was carrying him; cradled in my arm. Training or not carrying a fully grown, fully weighted pony in my arms UP stairs was wearing on my endurance…It made me feel weaker than I know I should.

“You can make it up to me by coming forward and saying that he started it.” I groaned moving again, holding him as lightly as I could not wanting to injure him beyond what Thrash had already done to the poor Stallion.

“That would just be a band-aid fix…” Samah chuckled, wincing with a sharp whinny.

“It would get him out of the way long enough for you to make a go at Downpour…” I added slyly, reaching up one of my bandage wrapped feet and kicking the open button for the door before me, entering the top floor; a nearby mare noticing my load and moving away with a gentle sound of concern.

Through the swollen left eye which was pulsing in a scary way, the blood variably oozing from a gash above his right eyebrow and what appeared to be a few missing teeth Samah still managed to blush shyly and get that instant goofy grin. “Yeah then have him kill me when he gets out… if not her.” He said starting off jokingly, but the voice fell to darker tones as he spoke his mind.

“I’m not about to let that happen.” I said adamantly giving a smile to some mares ad a stallion who were moving from the Atrium to the living quarters, they showed concern and worry but with a nod of my head I sent them along.

The medical clinic came into light; a light that was flickering once every four and a half seconds, I need to tell Stanely. The artificial lights would often be fueled by the generator down below but as previously mentioned it was down for maintenance and I could only ask Daunting to do so much, she wasn’t getting any younger. Powering Stable 77 was no easy feat, I watched my mother do it for fifteen years… It truly was a miracle that unicorns were able to produce some much magic to keep so much advanced machinery working; boggled my mind every time.

A unicorn pony, stallion, walked across the intersection right in front of the clinic, one door would lead to the Atrium the other down to the living quarters and the school.

“Professor!” I called out to him, making him pause before the clinic door, looking at me he offered a sympathetic smile; this stallion was one of the few who fully understand the medical wonder that I was, far more than myself… He then noticed my load, squinting it took him a moment to determine which pony he was staring at; offering up a soft chuckle when he recognized Samah beneath the blood and bruises.

“I always said you had odd taste in women, Mr. Pooke.” He said, eyes leaving Samah for me. “Can I help you today OverStallion?”

“Could you hit the door for me Professor?” I asked politely, not wanting to lift my leg like that again; honestly the muscles were locking up a little.

“Of course Sunny.” He said with that knowledged look to his smile, turning away; I decided not to mention the slip to my first name. Professor Macbridle was the teacher in Stable 77, he was my teacher and he was my mother’s teacher (nopony was exactly sure how long he had been around), he had a coat the colour of pages and hair of a sea foam green which was short and unruly no matter how much time he spent working on it (which was by no means an unimpressive length). His cutiemark was a vial leaning up against a tilted petri dish, which reflected his position as head of Science Team. The door opened with a hiss and the Professor steeped aside. “If you’ll excuse me gentlecolts, I had hoped to find some students who have a tendency of wandering off but they seem to have escaped my ever vigilant eyes once again.” Waving me a hoof he disappeared down the tunnel leading to the living quarters which was passed a few more storage rooms and currently unused bedrooms for medical patients which had several rooms lining the wall. As he turned the corner and I walked into the center carrying Samah I heard a familiar, tell-tale sound of one of the doors sliding open.

Inside the medical bay I was rewarded with the blinding light of the surgical beamers which where tall sterile looking tools with a strobe like mass of lights. There was Doctor Love and his new companion Nurse Ivy Thymes; the previous nurse having succumbed to her radiation poisoning, as it was now the good doctor was only able to move and work with a constant I.V. of radaway which was set up on a long, wheel mounted tower that he pulled around the clinic. The doctor’s once vibrant brown coat had faded to pale beige; his red and blue mane had lost its sheen and darkened to a ghost of its former self. His cutie mark a sutured black heart had become discoloured. The new nurse, Ivy had a pea-cream coat and dark green mane lined with black; her cutiemark a red cross crawling with gentle vines.

“Got another patient for ya, Doc.” I said slowly setting down Samah on the table, pulling the doctor away from the little, purple maned filly who had a thermostat in her mouth, and dragging Ivy’s eyes from the medical files she was reading at the sterilized table in the back left corner of the room.

“More injured ponies for me to deal with?” The doctor said with a biting undertone of sarcasm that everypony in 77 knew was fake; Doctor Love was dying and he was allowed all the sarcasm and occasional bitterness that he wanted. Sliding his radaway over to the bed where I set down Samah he began to do his diagnosis, waving for Ivy to deal with the filly. He prouded (mercilessly) the bruises and ran his shaking hoof over the cuts and bent places. “Fractured ribs, one…two…three…” he sighed deeply. “some lost teeth, broken nose… that gash above your eye is rather deep and your leg’s been knocked out of place.” He shook his head. “Can’t I go one day without Thrash taking his anger out on somepony I’m going to have to care for.”

“Hopefully soon enough.” I said, turning to leave the room. “Will he be okay here?” I asked making sure they had enough medical supplies for anything they required, if not I would have to commission some from the lab.

“Yes, yes. He’ll be fine.” The doctor wave at me angrily. “Not sick, not hurt ponies out.” I smiled and followed his order.

There was the open door again and a flash of a small hoof. I couldn’t help but smile at the little ponies, calling out to them. “My little ponies should be going to school.” It was an order, not a request; turning away I walked down towards the stairs I had carried Samah up, pausing to let the children run off to class without ‘being caught’, deciding it best to follow them and make sure they find their way back properly.

______________________________________________

I leaned up against the open doorway to the classroom; inside fifteen filled desks were built into the ground with small tables for the students to write on. In the center was the projector which was, at the moment, explaining how we grew apples in our underground orchard.

The three little ponies had managed to find their ways to class and thankfully never noticed me following them. It is a shame that the Professor so often forgets his Pipbuck or his E.F.S. would have pointed out the same three auras that I noticed hiding out of the way, and the children being too young to have a Pipbuck themselves would not know the way it works. I leaned my cloaked back against the wall listening to the lecture when one of the little ponies whom I had ‘guided’ back to class raised a hoof.

“Professor?”

“Yes, what is it Light?” the professor replied breaking out of his lecture.

“Why is the OverStallion so weird looking?” the child asked, as young children do, without thought of the question and honesty pushed before everything else.

Sighing, Macbridle moved over to the projector turning it off, no pony had seen me and I shift a little more to the left to make sure it stayed that way listening, just like every filly and colt in the room was listening to their teacher. “Now listen up my little ponies, and listen well. I’m only going to answer this one time. The OverStallion is a very special pony, and when he was growing inside of his mother the radiation caused by the megaspells outside, the whole reason we are living inside this Stable underground, changed him. It changed every part of him so that he looks the way he does now. He moves, talks and thinks just like everypony else and I know for a fact that he’d lay down his life for every one of you here. There is nothing the OverStallion wouldn’t do to make sure you are all safe. So does it really matter how he looks or what made him look that way?” The professor asked his students; a plethora of mumbles meeting him back, they all understood that outside the Stable was dangerous and that the OverStallion was responsible for protecting them from it.

It did my heart well to hear that man who taught me so much speak of me so highly, to see the looks on the children’s faces light up at his words. I felt… vindicated for all the hardships I had to face looking the way I did, it was an amazing feeling that I didn’t believe I would ever feel again as I walked away from the classroom resting my right hand on top of my swords.

It was time to call the governors and deal with Thrash before he hospitalized another pony. I was not about to let somepony else get hurt.

________________________________________

I sat now in the governor hall, cracking my ‘knuckles’ (what the good Doctor described the joints on my fingers which allowed the sharp manipulation of objects) to relieve the tension which was building in my muscles. Sitting at the head of the long sterile table I paused to give wonder to that word. Sterile. Everything in this Stable was sterile and metallic, there was no sense of life or home in the cold metal halls and the painted metal furniture, it was alcoholic and unchanging; like the minds of someponies who had been sterile of thought for far too long.

I shook those thoughts from my mind, wandering down tangents would get me nowhere with these ponies; I had to be forceful and absolute or they will question and doubt.

The ponies I was referring to of course were the six governors of Stable 77.

Daunting you have already met; she sat directly at my right and honestly was the only pony there who would be behind me in whatever I choose, the others could not get over my appearance and tactics. On the other side of me was probably the greatest resistance to anything I did: Whirlwind.

Thrash’s mother was a hard elderly mare with a mane of salt and pepper a coat of thick steel; much like the walls of this Stable an impenetrable barrier. But like this Stable, I held the one key: authority. She hated that a mutant like myself had risen to power over her family, she was the kind of mare I would imagine the guild lords were back in the days before the megaspells; she wanted my power for herself, her husband and Princesses be blessed it never come to pass: her monster of a son. The ivory crown pierced with a golden scepter bellying the nobility she believed was inherent to herself and her talent for ‘ruling’ over those who would let her.

Beside Whirlwind was Bristol, a local artisan and beloved mare amongst the younger fillies. She was approaching middle age but still had all of the life that was warrant to one still in their prime. Bristol’s coat was a (magnificent) bright blue with a shimmering rainbow like mane though that didn’t do it justice. When I was younger I had asked her about it and she said that her mane and tailed were so faintly pigmented that they acted like a prism and reflected out the white light from the artificial lighting of the Stable colouring the other strands different colors along the spectrum. A glass vase tilted on her flank which danced the same shades as her hair.

Lastly on the left side of the table was Happy Tears, one of the science ponies in the research and development team of which the Professor was lead hoof. A mane of brilliant, strawberry blonde which was curled precisely fell down half of her neck the bangs curled up accenting her gently red eyes. A coat of soft brown matched the hair perfectly giving this governor a gentle and homely feeling though she was out of all the governors the one I would define as most sterile. On her flank was the cutiemark of a clipboard with a floating gemstone in its center, the gem a flawless emerald.

Beyond Daunting on my right side was Grandstorm Pooke, Samah’s grandmother. The oldest of all the mares within the governors it was surprising to me that Grandstorm was the least resistance beside Daunting about my decisions as OverStallion, she would side with me easily. I took in the weathered old mare with her faded red coat and cotton-candy pink hair laced with gentle grey.

The last of the governors at the table before me was a grizzled, middle aged mare with a dark lavender coat and a mane of violet stripped with lines of white. On her flank was a moon trapped in a ring of light. This governor was Moonbeam, the local radio pony for Stable 77.

I leaned back in my high back chair its base tilting on a swivel that Stanely had constructed for me out of some of the scrap metal which had been stored for decades if not a century in some of the lesser used storage rooms. Looking out at the six unicorns before me I parted my lips to begin the meeting.

“Thank you all for coming so swiftly after being called.” I began formally placing my hands on the table taking their eyes in one at a time, staring them down. “This a matter of the utmost importance.” I assured them.

“Then please, by all means be on with it. Some of us have things to do.” Whirlwind barked bitterly; I noticed the looks three disgust and two fear, Thrash’s family were powerful in the Stable, a governor and the security chief… but I was the OverStallion, I was power.

“As you wish Madame.” I said with a bow of my head to her, I could feel her rage bubbling up beneath her skin. Whirlwind wanted me to fight her to lose control to show one iota of failure. She would find none today, nor would she ever find such weakness in me. “For the coming five days while the core is in maintenance I will require all of you to assist Governor Times in powering Stable 77 and restoring it to full power.” I wasn’t even halfway through the sentence and I could sense the building resentment.

“This is highly improper!” Whirlwind barked, and I was surprised to see some of the mares whom I had hoped would help me with less complaint nodding along. “Powering the entire stable is a job for the Overseer, you are lucky that Daunting is complacent enough to power as much as she does while still keeping up in all of her secretarial duties. But to request all of us weaken ourselves and interrupt our given jobs within the Sta—“ I raised a hand and cut her off, the black eyes cutting her word in half.

“You seem to have misinterpreted me, Governor.” I said my voice quiet but loud enough that every pony there heard it in a different tone. “This was not a request. Another pony was brutally beaten today and with no witness willing to come forward and place the blame I must resort to this to protect you all. This means the cameras in private areas which are usually off at full power will be, at all times, on.” Now this is where Daunting started to lose faith in me as well. No Overseer in Stable 77 had ever turned on all cameras. The geniuses at Stable co. had intended to use this Stable to study the effects of constant and complete surveillance on ponies at all times but they had installed an ex-military pony OverStallion, not some scientist or suite in their pocket.

“This is absurdity! I will not tolerate such an attack on our privacy!” Whirlwind howled slamming her foot down hard, denting the long slick table; I wondered how much of his stomp Thrash had learned from her… “It goes against our very rights!”

“Then consider those rights currently suspended until I catch the pony behind the attacks.” I said, it was a command, an unspoken threat my hand found their way on the hilts of my sword challenging each one of them. They knew none could challenge me for my position in a match of strength, I may not have the muscle capacity of a pony but I had trained harder and far more than anyone in Stable 77 had ever known, little did I know I was building myself into a soldier.

“Barbarian!” Whirlwind called almost moving to strike me, a shift in my head stopped her.

“None of you carried Samah Pooke up three flights of stairs to the medical clinic where he could be treated for his broken ribs, internal bleeding, broken nose and missing teeth.” I said simply, if Daunting hadn’t been so close to Grandstorm she would have made it out of the room immediately. “Now, I want this to happen, right now while I watch. I will be removing security personnel from the security room. I AM the only pony who will be viewing you. Nopony else will be privy to what is going on those cameras. You have my word.” Whirlwind was still seething and was just about to attack the idea more when I cut her off.

“The main suspect being your son.”

Her rage dissipated like a deflated balloon. “You said you had no witnesses…” she said suddenly smaller, Whirlwind had only one loyalty, her family. I would die before I saw her or her monster become Overseer.

“I came upon the scene myself.” I clarified. “However neither Samah nor a beaten Downpour,” she winced and so did Happy Tears, Douwnpour’s older sister. “are willing to come forward and refute your sons claims at self-defence. Though Samah had a hard time moving his jaw in general.”

The fear and uncertainty was palpable, Whirlwind wanted to fight my orders but at the same time she wanted to run damage control at home and try to set up excuses to stop the Pooke and Tears family from reacting like the guilds would have when Calimare was in its prime.

Swift and sudden death.

“Now each and every one of you will power this Stable. Now.” I ordered and watched as their horns began to glow with the magical power of the unicorn. I could feel the surge of power throughout the Stable as if it was a part of myself, suddenly I felt regenerated from the grave; a phoenix bursting from the ashes. “Good, now Moonbeam.” I said drawing her attention to me, I could see how exhausted they looked; the main reason the Overseer powers the Stable when the generator was down had always been that at those time they would fall back to strictly secretarial work and reduce all of their movement while supplying magic. These six would not have the luxury. “Please send out a broadcast informing the ponies of the change in situation. Make sure everypony is aware of the full activation of the cameras and inform them that any complaints can be submitted directly to my desk.”

I pushed away from the table setting my right wrist on my sword hilt I gave them all my most winning smile. “Meeting adjourned ladies, thank you for your time and cooporation in our time of need. The Stable is stronger for it. If you’ll excuse me.” I said leaving for the security room, leaving the six behind to slowly continue about their day.

I had a security room to commandeer and an entire Stable to monitor.

_______________________________________

It had been over two days of me staring into an eight foot tall, ten foot wide wall of monitors which linked individually to each camera in the Stable providing real time feedback with no ‘lag’ as the science team referred to it. I was more than beginning to feel the strain of my venture having not moved from the room in those days save for short bathroom breaks and grabbing trays of artificially grown vegetables and fruits from in front of the door. I had been keeping my eyes on one pony, to ensure that I didn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to (though I’ll admit nothing realty happened, most ponies were too self-aware of the cameras).

Thrash was all I saw, every moment of his life was there before my eyes and I can’t even being to describe to you (my vocabulary simply won’t allow it) how unbelievable dull it was. But there would be a slip, a moment of anger. I know his mother had warned him of the repercussions and he was made well aware that I was watching. Thrash, I liked to believe, knew I was only watching him.

About seven hours into the third day the moment hit. I saw a raging Thrash enter his apartment dragging a crying Downpour in by her mane yelling at her (the screens were visual only). I saw the poor filly try to speak up and his hoof slap across her face and I was already halfway to the door. I turned my eyes to the screen just in time to see him grab the chair from his desk in his teeth and hurl it at the camera in his futile rage.

The bastard was mine, and nothing was going to stop me from taking him this time.

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I opened the door leading to the apartment where heated voices were coming; neither of which that of a filly named Downpour which caused a moment of panic.

With a hiss the door revealed its secrets and there was Thrash raising his hooves up to crash them down at the pony that he was arguing with: my father, Colt Magnum. It was a burst of adrenaline or merely the true rewards of my training that fueled me, I was in front of my father almost instantly taking off at full tilt. I allowed my S.A.T.S. to fall over me and I set the targeting system to guide my leg in a swift (and powerful) roundhouse kick. Delivering my leg unto Thrash’s overly exposed rib cage I lifted the pony off of the ground; his balance precarious from his raised stance. The action didn’t end there, as he flew to the wall I took notice of two things: Downpour was in the corner huddled tight away from the Stallions a gash over her eye and a swelling lip, and that my hands had found their way to my swords.

Following up with the kick I used the round house to build the momentum to keep me just behind Thrash as her crashed into the wall; drawing my katana I twirled the one in my left hand till the blade was ‘upside down’ twisting my body around so that it would land just against his neck, my right hand bringing the sword over the first in a scissor like position. My blade poised to slice through his neck at the slightest action. Panting Thrash looked up at me with baleful hate.

“You won’t hold me, my mother will see to that.” He panted growling his breath caught in his throat, the deep breaths pushing his flesh to my swords.

“Even if I didn’t have it recorded you striking young Ms. Tears, you destroyed that camera and destruction of Stable co. unauthorized by the OverStallion, who is me, is a crime punishable by six months in a cell. Thrash…” I said leaning in close my mouth to his ear. “I promise you’ll get much more than that, you won’t be attacking any other of my little ponies for a long time.”

The security team that my father had called arrived to see me pinning Thrash down with my blades, his father (an impressive stallion of dark grey with a jet black mane and eyes of a steel blue) arrived in his security barding looking less then pleased.

“Chief, please put this pony in irons and take him to the holding cell.” I said drawing away my swords and standing a full pony taller than everypony else slid my swords home. “The governors and I have some footage to review.

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Thankfully by this point, governors Grandstorm and Tears had built up enough anger and disgust to put Thrash away for a long time, two years with no chance of early release. No visitor hours at all and two hours of exercise a day. To be spent with me, and only me in the training room where I spent three hours a day.

It was the first day after his conviction and sentencing had taken place and I was sitting in the back of the training room; a massive blue painted room filled with weights, treadmills, an aerial tube for Pegasi to dash up and down and spread their wings and a small, plush matt for my meditation. I sat on the matt waiting for the prisoner to arrive for his first day of exercise.

Right on time, exactly two o’clock in the afternoon he door hissed open violently and Security Chief House and my his deputy, Gomez (a handsome brown pony with brown hair, he seemed plain but there was a subtle attractiveness to it, he was a good stallion) lead the orange suited Thrash into the cell, releasing him of the iron hoof-cuffs locking his legs in position.

They left us without a sound, I could taste the palpable hate radiating off of Thrash. I closed my eyes and crossed my legs sitting proper; my swords resting across my lap, my cloak hung behind my head where a special hook had been emplaced for my gear.

“So solitary isn’t enough? I have to be tortured with your irradiated ass.” He barked, figuring that he was already in the hole that ignoring any sort of social standard regarding my position was a safe bet; I looked to his left foreleg where his Pipbuck used to be and shrugged looking at him.

“You are a very, very angry stallion Thrash.” I said not moving more than my lower jaw, meditating on my words, understanding them fully as they were spoke; learning what each word meant on a meta-philosophical level. A method which allowed me to meditate on my existence and talents while carrying a conversation with ponies that would interrupt my practice. “And I’m not about to let you hurt another one of my ponies.”

My voice was cold and uninviting; I was not there to entertain Thrash or to teach him a lesson. I was the shield between him and the ponies of Stable 77.

“Why do you even care.” He spat sitting on the weights, setting it to around forty killos;a machine where one sat down and with their forelegs raised behind padded ‘arms’ pulled the weight forward while stressing the muscles in the core and chest. “I can name only one pony on the security crew who can look at you and not taste vomit.” He said eyes on me as he lifted the weight with a little strain.

Ending my meditation I stood up and stretched my back relaxingly my swords in my right hand, one sheath up in the air the other pointing down. I walked over to the treadmill and started it up, fast speed; fifteen degree angle, my every day cardio. “That really doesn’t bother me, Thrash.”

“It should you fucking mutant.” He growled lifting with more speed anger building at my complacency.

“I believe my title is OverStallion, not mutant.” I said pointedly looking at him as I ran, the gentle slope weighing on my muscles but just enough to feel the burn.

He literally spat at me slamming the levers carrying the weight together angrily.

I let it slide, he could call me what he wanted.

After an hour had passed I stood off and was moving to the same machine that Thrash was on (though it was situated in the opposite side of the gym) when he burst out angrily. “I don’t get it! None of this is any of your concern, none of it! You shouldn’t give a damn about the lives of those ponies; they don’t give two fucks about yours. Whether you live or die do you think they care? You think they’ll accept you? Never. They’ll never take you in, and I’ll never accept you as my superior in any way!” His voice carried hard in the tall room, I knew the guards at the door were listening, more than likely intimately, to our conversation.

I looked at him slowly he was sitting there sweating and panting from an hour of lifting the weight, his shifted posture telling of his sore back. I sunk the weight bar into the 100 kilo setting near the bottom of the weights and sat down. “Why? We’re a family.” I said looking at the ground lifting the weights and closing the bars in front of my chest. I could feel the swelling in my shoulders and chest tightened at the tugging weight. “However any of you ponies feel I have been giving a job here, Thrash, the job of looking after all of these ponies and keeping them safe. Hate me or not, these ponies are my job.” I said looking to him with those eyes ponies said I had, those cold and vicious orbs.

“For your job? That’s why you put up with all this abuse and hate, how bucking stupid are you!” he yelled at me leaving his set behind and moving to center of the room.

“I do it. Thrash, because I’m the only pony here who can be their shield.” I said looking into his eyes not stopping my arms with their rhythmic lifting, like the beating of a long lost drum. “To live for these ponies and, if the need ever arise die for them. I will do everything in my power to protect, save and spare them hardships. I’d die for them, would you?” I asked as he trotted right up to me, stopping right in front of my face hesitating at my question.

“That is why you will never sit in the same seat I sit, Thrash. It’s why your father will never rise above chief and why your mother will never be Over Mare. None of you have what it takes to answer that question without hesitation.” I dropped the weight and stood up, walking past Thrash as if he wasn’t even there I went to my cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders keeping the hood down. “And you never will.” I added walking towards the door looking to him now. “I think that’s more than enough exercise for today.”

Just as I was about to call in the guards to remove Thrash to his cell the exterior alarms went off, well an alarm went off, it wasn’t until I had reached command that I learned what it was having never heard this particular alarm before. The Stable, was under attack. From the outside.

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With Thrash back in his cell I, and the governors ran to the entrance way to the Stable, looking from the secure room to the side we looked into the terminal of the exterior cameras, ignoring the massive metal bars and parts which kept the massive Stable door locked and sealed. The outside of the Stable was a small subterranean tunnel of natural makes which lead up to the basement of an old industry video (a Stable co. weapons development building to be exact). On the monitor we could see the cause, there were a group of ponies maybe six with a few in the shadows.

They looked feral as if they had deteriorated beneath the standards of war-time ponies. They were covered in what I could tell was bloodied armour covered in gore and vicious spikes, some had sharp objects in their mouths I think I saw a knife and one with a shovel that had been sharpened to a spear tip. One of the freakish ponies, a Pegasus with a tainted green mane was wearing a massive mechanism which had, just moments before released two missiles at the vault door, it appeared to be in the process of reloading. I swallowed hard, the Stable vault would be able to eat those missiles and not waver but if they used too many explosives I was unaware of how long the hundred and fifty year old (or plus) wall would hold.

“What are they thinking!?” Whirlwind yelled over the crash of another rocket, dust filling the room from the impact.

I was about to offer a witty reply when, from the shadows of the cave came a winged unicorn who stood at least as tall as I did, silencing us all. The alicorn, a stallion, looked at the wall with great distaste; his long horn glowed with violent red energy before unleashing a bolt of magically created plasma which caused the Stable door to burn white hot for a moment.

I looked at his blood red coat and long coagulated mane, it looked like the blood of a corpse oozing magically from his head and flank; the cutiemark of a red sun dripping blood on his flank. A sadistic and haunting voice came into our minds and lashed at us painfully.

“Open the door and we promise to only take the grown and the healthy back to be sold.” The monster was confident and cocky, his voice sounding venomous. “I will personally promise that damage will be minimal and your women shall go unraped.” It hissed it my mind, the words in no way masking the lies, this monster was here to kill; this monster was here to dominate. “If you prove compliant then I will assure you the kindest of masters when you are sold.” With this the winged monster howled in our minds and broke the connection as two more rockets launched into the Stable.

“What are we going to do…?” Whirlwind said unable to comprehend the situation. “This…this can’t be happening…. Why would something like this happen?”

They looked at me, all of them were terrified and I considered our options. I found one route, but it would mean murder… was I ready to kill? I would die for the ponies of Stable 77…but would I kill for them, and end another ponies life… Slowly every face of every pony in the Stable filled into my mind and I knew my answer.

I saw every child looking at me with scared but curious faces, they had looks of awe inspired respect for somepony so different who would look over and protect them.

I saw every budding couple and gentle lover who had a special somepony within these hollowed walls, smiling at each other as they waved to me their eyes lost on one another.

I saw every elder who had lived their life long and hard inside our prison; locked away from the world.

I saw everypony who hated me and every pony who loved me and I knew in that moment that I would do anything, become anything for these ponies. I would be the monster they needed for a hero. No matter what.

“I think I’ll go great our new guests…” I said my voice ran thick with murderous intent that I was completely unaware I was capable of. These ponies wanted to enslave rape and ravage my family. And they would die for it, or I would die trying to send them to hell where they belong.

The security chief looked at me with the same incredulous look that the governors had shared in that moment. “If you go out that Stable door we aren’t going to let you back in…” he said seriously, I knew he would. It wasn’t even a matter of him trying to get rid of me, rationalizing my banishment (though I’m sure he’d delight in it later when the thought came to his mind), he was terrified of what I might bring back with me… the diseases and radiation of the top world had long been so far out of the Stable that many of us were worried that the immune systems of the ponies within could not handle it.

“I’m aware.” I said stepping from behind the room into the entrance, pulling the cloak over my head I crouched low to make myself look more pony like. The governors were looking at me dumbfounded, most of all Whirlwind. “I said I’d die for you all, well turns out I’d do a lot more than that.” I laughed pulling out my Pipbuck and reading a secret project of mine. “When I’m gone I want Daunting to be in charge.” I said looking back to them for a moment. “When I’m through close the door…and if I fail…well I tried.” I said sadly looking at them; nodding to the security chief who in term gave me, for the first time a look of genuine respect.

And so the gate to Stable 77 opened for the first time since it closed oh so long ago.

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I slinked my way out of the Stable, the gears grinding to life behind me; the initially excited ponies outside fallen and looking as murderous as I would admit only now that I felt inside. They were vile and disgusting blood and feces covering their armour and the stench, it pulled tears to my eyes but I remember the ponies on the other side of the closing Stable behind me. I had to be strong.

“Well, this is disappointing.” The winged unicorn said in his lofty, poisoned tones his voice sounding as if it was passing along a mechanical tube. “I had hoped you all would have come to some measure of sense. Instead they send a lamb to the slaughter…You’ll make a fine example of what we are about to do to them.”

I focused inwardly, trying to find that spot of inner zen which was eluding my mental grasp. I wish I could be more descriptive of the situation at hoof but I’m afraid that I was building a wall around my senses for what I was about to do.

With cold deliberation I lifted out my mutated arm from beneath the cloak revealing the Pipbuck strapped to my wrist; their reactions to the limb one of surprise and believe it or not disgust. Only the winged monster seemed to be uncaring.

I was a tinkerer, someone who liked to breakdown and reverse engineers new things and if I could somehow, find a way to improve them. This is exactly what I had done over the last six years with the box of Stealth Bucks I had found when I earned my mark. I had torn them down and tried (sometimes unsuccessfully) to put them back together in new ways until after four years of research I broke new grounds and succeeded in creating a whole new item.

I called my new creation a Ghost Buck.

It cast the same, high level invisibility spell of the Stealth Buck but had a stuttering effect; it would allow the invisibility to last a longer, average duration for sacrificing consistency. The uses would phases in and out of the invisibility with set ‘blinks’ as I liked to call them, if a pony (like myself) could learn to time attacks with the blinks (which I had) than it would be a truly devastating device. I looked at the six ponies before and their monstrous armours and that lie…that winged unicorn, a magical creature that had once meant beauty and grace, the Goddesses themselves being tainted by its existence.

I loaded one of my ten Ghost bucks into my machine and felt the invisibility cover me in its cold embrace.

Instantly the guns started firing, the two other ponies whose weapons we could not make out from the monitor appeared to be a small pistol and a powerful shotgun strapped beneath the wings of one of the Pegasus. I was already out of where they were shooting and just in time for the fake-God launched another one of his plasma bolts at where I had been standing just seconds ago.

Sprinting low to the ground I relieved my hips of my sword and came to the first pony in my sights, the one with the missile launcher. Lashing out in a sideways chop I became visible just as my blade bit flesh and the spell refreshed as the head, now cleanly removed from the body; I jumped away to dodge the hell-fire of another plasma shot which completely incinerated the corpse and any chance of salvaging the weapon. With a thunderous clash the Stable finished its closing, the earth shattering “BOOM” distracting the enemies long enough for me to get up into the melee fray with the one who held a knife in his teeth. Stabbing in through the ribs I pierced his heart sharply before twirling back and with a backhand swing of my other arm cleaved the un-armoured head of the one with the shovel in his mouth.

Invisibility rushed back over me as I flung myself out of the way avoiding more hellfire, there were only three ponies left and I could sense their failing moral. As well as the sense of the invisibility spell.

Dashing across the tunnel I barely managed to outpace another bolt of red magic as the winged beast launched his spell of seemingly at random, taking a step back with each cast.

I relieved another one of the criminals of his head, the gun falling to the side and going off on impact; striking the shotgunning Pegasus in the leg; crippled he attempted to fly up into the lower ceiling but I emptied his body of its contents as I sprinted under him; S.A.T.S. guiding my strike when I was too busy keeping an eye out for magical fire.

In a flash of invisibility I was gone again and it was just the two of us. I could smell the panic in the air; feel the sweat oozing beneath the false-god’s coat as his mortality was called to light.

The moment the Ghost Buck ran out I was right beneath the creature’s neck my blades pressed to his neck, and I could feel the life passing before his eyes as his last magical bolt flew high and struck the ceiling, dropping molten rock onto the ashed corpses of his once allies.

His voice quivered softly “I don’t want to die…” it was a whimpering plea of a creature that for the first time realised it was about to die. Leaning forward I began the cutting action of my swords which would cleave the beast’s head from his body, whispering a gentle answer as I steeled my very soul to protecting the gentle faces of Stable 77.

“It’s far too late for you to be saved.”

Level up: http://vault106.com/characters/Sunnysides