I groaned awake as my head pounded. Reaching a hoof up, I winced as part of my head felt sore. Bringing it down, I found my hoof was stained with still drying blood. Storm had fucking actually went ahead and beat me senseless anyway, and now I owed her a rubber bullet for that brahmanshit. Then I heard the sounds of moaning and snoring and quickly remembered where I was.

Sitting up, I found that my rear legs had been bound together with slack chained shackles, loose enough to be able to walk at a little less than normal pace, but not much more. What was more or less my concrete pen was only open on one side, and showed out into the main cell block across from me, where I could see dozens of other pens like mine neatly barred off. Odd thing was, every other pen that I could see had two ponies in it.

Turning around, the looming figure of a pony was propped up limply against the back wall. I concentrated on my light spell, trying to see if my horn would finally cooperate. After a quick spark, I managed to form the dimmest mote imaginable and weaved it close. The stallion as it turned out, seemed to be completely still. It probably had to do with the numerous lines of staples that ran across his body, and the fact that he had some sort of tubes running out of his back and into a heavily jeweled chestpiece.

“Fuck, maybe it’s a good thing he’s dead. Didn’t want any company anyway.” I shook my head and flopped down onto the floor again. Running through the plan again in my head, I knew I had hours of time to spend waiting for the one half hour Grandma said that they let us out for per day. With an annoyed grumble, I turned over towards the barred doors and stared out into the dimly lit block.

I thought about what I was even doing here, and how crazy this was to even attempt. I am not my Grandmother, and I don’t run around the wastes as a force of good. Hell, I’ve been lucky that Filly hasn’t put out a contract on her, but that probably has more to do with that friend she has there anyway. Figures she could keep contracts off herself, but would she help me when I need it? Fuck no!

Lost in thought, I should have been listening.

Somepony touched me. The feeling of a cold hoof on my skin made me shiver instinctively. The darkness, the exhaustion, everything hit me at once and I saw him again. My mind took over and grabbed the trainguard with my magic. With a scream that half came from the panic, and half from the sparks that shot from my horn, I found my magic lifting his heavy form and propelling it from me as quickly as I could. With a crash, the stallion slammed against the steel bars on our cell, wrenching them from their hinges as he rolled and tumbled along the floor into the open block.

Sitting up, I turned around in horror at what I had just done. Frantic yelling quickly escalated into a roar as both the other cell’s occupants and the guards around started to call out. Among the chaos, the most surprising thing was that the body I had thrown was starting to get up. Now in the proper light, I could see that his white coat was covered in more stitches than I had been able to see. The tubes leading from his chest flickered on to a soft blue, and the gem studded chestplate started to shimmer softly as he shook the bits of concrete from himself. Turning to me, he stared at me with a set of brightly burning red eyes, the ebbing glow coming through several vertical slits in his eyes. It wasn't until he started to walk back towards me that I realized that they were cybernetics, giving off the faint whine that all things electronic did seemingly just to annoy me.

I pushed myself further back into the corner as he single hoofedly picked up the steel door, dragging it along behind him as he kept his gaze locked on me. Trapped in a small concrete box was not an advantageous position, and my options for escape were narrowing by the minute. Maybe I could squeeze past him? No, with enough strength to lift that door, he could swat me back in an instant. Wait until he get's too close to use it as a weapon? No, he'd be in hoof to hoof range and I'd be down with a single hit anyway. The only option is wait and find a moment that I could hit him in the only place a stallion is most vulnerable.

He stopped just inside the cell, growling as he turned around and hooked his hooves around the cell bars. With a couple of loud grunts, he pulled it back towards him. The metal door frame squealed and groaned as the steel door was pulled back into place, staying upright as he let go of it with a sigh. He wiped his brow and turned around with a more relaxed look.

"Before you say anything." He sat down and put his hooves up slowly, looking a whole lot less threatening that he did a moment ago. "Let me apologize for that. I probably shouldn't have violated your personal space. I didn't mean to startle you, and I'll stay back if that's what you want." He even went so far as to crack a small smile. Well, as much of one as he could with an oversized metal jaw in place of a normal one.

“You’re a…” I didn’t really have a reaction planned for this. Why would he stop? Is he friendly or just plain stupid?

“Deadmare. Not many of us left around, but I assure you that I am in good enough condition to level this place.” He held out his hoof in the friendliest way somepony who just shrugged off that much steel could. “My name is Lockjaw. I’m a real live walking, talking archano-monstrosity, and I’m at your service.”

“Right…” I'm still trying to figure out just what a deadmare is. I’ve heard stories about them here and there, but they all end with ‘and I just barely got away with my life’. Playing it cool might just be my best course of action. “I was going to say Cyberpony, but sure, we’ll go with what you said.”

“And you?” He asked and rolled his hoof, encouraging me to take it. I did and immediately regretted it. He was ice cold. As strong as I thought I was, with the light touch he gave, I could still feel muscles in his leg almost as thick as my hoof.

“I’m a unicorn… thought it was fairly obvious.” I could already tell that he was going to be worse than Caltrop.

He blinked in surprise before breaking out into cacophonous laughs. “I meant your name. I’m not daft enough to have forgotten what one of your kind look like.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Sorry, it’s not often they stick me with a mare, let alone a mare calm enough to converse with.”

“Let’s just say I’ve been through a lot of shit this last week. I’m PC by the way.” I pulled my hoof back and looked over him again as my brain finally caught up with me. “You said you could break out of here? That’s great, I’m going to need your help then.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that. I only brought it up because everypony who does talk to me eventually asks.” He gave a shrug with his his massive shoulders. “Besides, I can’t leave when I’ve got this.” He craned his neck, showing off the bomb collar that I didn’t even notice when looking him over before. It had carved so far into his neck that I was sure that if he took a deep breath it might go off. I guess it was a good thing he didn’t have to breathe or something.

“And if I could get it off?” I leaned forward and tried to look more closely at it. The problem is that it’s on there so tight that even slipping a tool in might make it explode. “Would that be a fair trade?”

“Even then, I was left here to do a job. I refuse to leave until it is done.” He got back to his hooves and joined me against the back wall. Well fuck, I guess I’m back to relying on myself to get out.

“Then can you at least tell me if you’ve seen somepony?” Feeling more than a little uncomfortable with him next to me, I got up and stood at the steel bars. “He’s a stallion, charcoal coat, silver mane, missing a tail?”

“You know, I might have seen a stallion like that being led in last night a couple of hours before you got here, but he’s not being kept in this block.” Lockjaw gave either a grunt or a laugh, of which I couldn’t be sure through his jaw. “He’s in the slave block.”

I looked back to him in concern. “What do you mean, slave block? Isn’t this whole place just a stop off point for slaves?”

He shook his head. “Only the west block is used for the slaves. The east block, where we are? This side never stopped being a prison. Of course, it’s gotten awfully crowded recently with this Red Eye’s enemies taking up most of the space.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assumed you knew. Like it or not, the warden wanted you in here. If you don’t know why, I suggest you get his attention and ask.”

“I don’t have time to play games with some Asshole. I’ve got friend’s to break out.” I mean really, all I needed to do was get a message out to Storm for where to send Sandy, that’s it. Everypony else in here could go fuck themselves.

“I still suggest it. Getting on his good side can help take some attention off you.” Lockjaw leaned back against the wall like he had been when I first looked him over. “When they let you out, do something to force his attention. Start a fight, seduce a guard, kill somepony. It doesn’t matter, just do something. Trust me on this.”

There was an electronic buzzing noise that encompassed the entirety of the block, the heavy stomps of guard ponies filing in preceded the systematic unlocking of cell doors. For being full of supposed criminals, the single file line that formed and slowly made it’s way to a door at the end of the block was neat and quiet. Ragged and emaciated ponies of all shapes, sizes, races, and gender marched along in solemn, silent unity, and to be honest, the thought of becoming one of those ponies sparked a small amount of fear in me. No more than a couple of hours in here, that’s the most I want to spend in this place.

One of the guards finally reached my cell, holding the ring of cell keys in his teeth with a confused look across his face. It took me a minute to realize that when he put the door back on, Lockjaw put it on backwards. With a roll of his eyes, the guard simply ignored me and moved on to the next cell, abandoning me here.

“Hey, Asshole, I want out.” I pressed up against the bars and shouted for him. Lockjaw groaned as he picked himself up and walked forward. He put his foreleg against the bar next to my head and gave it a slight push. The entire door squealed and tipped out of it’s frame again.

“Just trust me. Talk to the warden.” Lockjaw grumbled as I stepped over the twice broken door. Picking up the door like it was nothing, he twisted it around as I stepped over towards the line that was forming. “Oh, and when you see her, tell Storm that I’m still waiting.”

Before I had a chance to ask how he knew Grandma, one of the guards came up from behind me and prodded me in the side with a ice cold steel baton. “Come on, get in line.”

I had hoped that being outside would mean that I’d get a chance to get away from the prying eyes of everypony else, but like the rest of my life, outside time turned out to be a joke. The shackles they had us in meant that we couldn’t move more than at a walking pace, so not many of the prisoners moved around much. This isn’t really an issue, because from up on that overlook, this courtyard looked a whole lot bigger. There was only enough space for us all the be just out of hoof’s reach of each other, and even that wasn’t enough space to some.

Within the first thirty seconds of being out here, I’d watched two mare’s start a fight that ended in one getting a broken leg, and the other impaled through the neck on the other’s horn. Needless to say, I shuffled my way to the outside of the ‘recreational formation’ and found a spot next to the fence that I could sit. The sun was somewhere above the cloud cover, and looking toward the mountains, I could make out the rough outcropping that Storm should be watching over me from. It’s her damn fault that I was out for so damn long, but I really hoped that she was watching right now.

Ignoring the fact that my cellmate said he knew grandma, I focused on the task at hoof. I had lucked out and gotten a cell on the first floor of the complex, so Sandy shouldn’t have an issue burrowing my tools to me. The issue lies with the fact that I don’t know where amongst the cells I sit. I didn’t exactly have the time to count just how many there were along my side, so a guess is going to have to do. I patted down some of the dirt in front of me and looked around.

About every thirty feet there was a guard patrolling on hoof. They walked in grid like patterns between us, most of them equipped with assorted rusting shotguns or metal batons. One thing most of them had in common was the barding they wore. Cobbled together bits of leather and cloth looked more to me like these ponies were raiders than security. Looking at the dead mare with a fresh horn wound in her neck, it didn’t actually seem so odd to recruit raiders with how violent the prisoners get. They get to kill ponies who act up, and are readily available to replace if whoever ran this place needed to.

Without looking, I began to trace my hoof along the dirt. I kept my head on a swivel, trying to make sure none of the guard’s caught on to what I was doing. Now, I know that I’m no artist, but when I did look down, I couldn’t help but frown at the work I had done. I’d seen pre-war children’s art that looked better than my map, and that was being generous to my work! With a grumbling mutter under my breath, I rubbed it out and patted it down again. This time, I would watch what I was drawing.

“Hey, stop it.” A stallion’s voice cropped up, swiftly followed by the click of the safety on his shotgun. I looked up as he approached, a younger unicorn buck with bright yellow eyes that seemed so out of place amongst the others. “Drag your hoof again and I shoot it off. No digging.”

Lucky for me, It looks like got a guard who wasn’t one of the bloodthirsty raiders. This is good. I can work with this.

“Fuck off, asshole.” I shot back to him and tapped at the dirt a few times. I wasn’t going to draw again, not with him watching, but I really hope Storm will pick up on what I’m trying to do. Tapping at the dirt again, I turned to face the guard, unhappy that even if his eyes were soft, the riot barding that adorned him didn’t look to have anything to do with the notion of soft.

His eyes hardened in anger. “Fucking mouthy bitch!” He snapped out, raising his rifle in his magic. It looks as if I had misjudged him for being the non-violent type, reeling from a strike to my head that punctuated the reward my assumptions have given me. I reached out with my magic and let out a whine as my horn shot painful sparks out. I gripped and pulled at the stock of the old gun to keep it away from me, while I could feel his magic torquing the barrel down.

Had my horn been working right, I could be fairly sure that I would be winning, but each pulse of pain that shot through my skull was going to doom me. Slowly and steadily, the barrel of the gun dropped, inch by inch toward what I hoped wouldn’t be the end of my life. I clenched my eyes shut and focused hard on the gun, using every ounce of magic I could muster to change the course of events in my favor.

Then my magic gave out.

The guard’s magic won out, but he wasn’t expecting all the resistance to release at once, and he ended up shouting a string of expletives as the shotgun flew past my head. He was quick to recover, and by the time I opened my eyes, he barreled into me. Once again, I was in a hoof to hoof fight that I had no hope of winning. His blows were clumsy, but heavy, each furious kick against me forced just a little more air from my lungs. I tried to fight back, curling up and going for the geld, but the riot armor did it’s job and kept me from doing anything other than enraging him further.

Between my scream and a deafening gunshot going off, I couldn’t be sure what had just happened, but I did know that I was alive. Other than the extreme pounding going on in my head, the whole of the yard around me was silent. Whispers crept up like the wind, and it was then I decided to open up my eyes. My assailant lay on his side next to me, his angry eyes dark and lifeless as a line of blood drained down his forehead. A few of the other guards stood with their weapons raised at me and their mouths on the trigger.

“Hold your fire.” The amused tone of a stallion carried through the ringing in my ears. Looking around, it took me a moment to trace back where it came from, finding a sharply dressed white coated stallion standing on one of the main block’s guard overlooks with a hunting rifle propped up against himself. He held his hoof out to point to me. “I know who you are, Miss Cap. Please, why don't you join me up here for lunch?”

All it took was one look at the well groomed mustache on the end of his muzzle to tell me two things. One, he was the Warden, and Two, he was an asshole. Unfortunately for me, there was little choice in what answer I could give. Though maybe…

“Fuck…” I managed to wheeze as I tried to reach out for the shotgun with my magic, finding myself only increasing the horrendous pounding against my skull. I felt myself float up from the ground, wrapped in the magic of somepony else. My forelegs were pulled to the side and hooked around two of the guards necks before I was dragged back toward the doors inside.

I was taken back through the main block,a large, stark black letter A was painted on the wall opposite the one leading outside, and in the center of it, lay a scratched and heavily marred window to what looked like an office. Up above me, the sound of hooves on metal drew my attention to the catwalks that ringed the entire ceiling. The warden caught my gaze and flashed me a million cap smile, disappearing with the rest of the main block as I was dragged through a set of double doors.

There was a loud buzzing sound that made my head spin, and made me flick my ears in annoyance. The door in front of me popped open with a clack, and I was pushed through. It was down another hallway before taking a right through another buzzing door, an old cafeteria on the other side to greet me. The grime coated surfaces and rusting tables were a fun reminder that even in a place built to prevent escape, the wasteland has found a way to break inside these fortified walls. The only thing out of place was the small pristine tea set that sat at the end of the longest table in here. I’d seen how the cups in the wasteland have resisted it’s wear, but never a tea set.

I cringed as I was taken through yet another buzzing door that lead to a rather bland looking starewell. The blue walls got cleaner with each flight, and after we reached the third floor, it was absolutely sparkling. A large wooden door was opened by one of my guard’s magic, and I was pulled along a carpeted hallway. stopping before we reached a small reception area that looked almost like it could be brand new. The brownish-orange carpet meshed oddly with the yellow wall paint, and the few, well dusted fake plants in the room added just a touch of life to it. With a pair of barely molding chairs and a desk that shot images of Florentine into my mind, I was about ready to believe I was in fact inside another memory.

The magic that had lifted me surrounded me once more, pulling me off of them and setting me gently back onto my hooves. The sudden pressure on my legs made them wobble, but I managed to hold myself as one of the guards hoofed at a box on the desk. It gave off it’s own annoying buzzing sound, but this time, the voice of the Warden promptly followed.

“Go ahead and send her in.” Was all he said before he was cut off with a burst of static. The one guard still next to me pointed his horn to the door and gave the handle a twist, popping it open just enough where I’d have to push my way inside. Then he promptly pushed himself past me and joined his companion in one of the chairs, drawing up a magazine from the far side of the desk and opening it. Taking a few steps forward, I put my hoof against the door labeled ‘Facility Administrator’ and pushed.

“Come in, come in!” The stallion beckoned through his thick cigar smoke as he poured what looked like alcohol into a crystal clear glass. “Shut the door before you go ahead and find yourself a seat.” He gave me the same smile he did earlier as he traded his cigar for the top of the old booze bottle, sealing it as I turned and did as he asked. “Oh, forgive me, I should have asked if you wanted one as well. Have you ever had Cognac? A good friend of mine has been working on perfecting it, but the issue isn’t in the grapes, but finding a good source of Oak for the casks.”

“What do you want?” My question made him deadpan with a sigh. I knew that there had to be some reason he brought me up her. Nopony just shoots one of their own without a reason. Well, nopony outside of raiders that is.

“I’m sorry, I do tend to get swept up in the formalities.” Picking up his cigar in his muzzle, and his drink in his fetlock, he strolled lazily back to his ornate wooden desk. He sat down in his chair with a relaxed sigh and leaned back, putting his rear hooves up before pointing at the two pristine chairs in front of me. “Do have a seat though.”

“I’d rather not.” This was one of the things both mother and grandma ingrained in my head. If you’re captured, spend as much time on your hooves as possible. Not only does it allow you to move in a moment’s notice, it makes your captor uneasy and prone to slipping up.

“Fine, your choice.” He dismissed me with a shrug and a puff on his rapidly shrinking cigar. “I've heard quite a bit of you Ms. Cap, and not just from the slaves recently. You've made yourself quite a name with the work you did for Fillydelphia, a both good, and bad reputation at that.” He took a sip from his drink and puckered from the taste, setting his glass down with a clunk on the desk. “I admire the work you did for them. If my guards were anywhere near as competent as you, this prison would be a breeze to run.”

“Unless you're looking to hire me, I'd rather sit in my cell.” Even then, I didn’t want to be up here. Everything about this guy comes off bad, and I know that the longer I stay, the more I’m going to want to do everything in my power to kill him.

Somehow delighted by my response, he smiled again. “Though I wish I could afford your expertise to retrain these half wit excuses for guards, that's not why I kept you from being bludgeoned in the yard just now.” He kicked his hooves off the desk and leaned forward, his chair giving out the most annoying rusted squeaks it possibly could. Even with how pristine this place looked, signs of the end where there just sitting beneath the spring coverings. “You see, I could actually care less about you. The real question I want the answer to, is why did Storm Rider bring you to me?”

“I've got a fairly hefty contract on my head. Every hunter from New Pegus to Manehatten is after me.” I lied through my teeth, and even before I had finished I could see on his face he didn’t believe a single fucking word.

“Oh Ms. Cap, I'd hope you'd be smarter than to lie. You see, during her stay with us, the whispers she gave when she thought she was alone to the ponies she thought she could trust? Those mean that I know a few close kept secrets that she didn't want getting around.” He laughed through his cigar, sending a rolling wave of noxious smoke toward me. “One of these things is that I happen to know that Storm wouldn't just turn you in for a thousand caps, seeing as she's too loyal to betray family.”

Well, there goes that angle. “You’ve obviously haven't ever been shot by her then.” Now I’m not so sure how to go about this. He’s already too sure that I’m here on Storm’s behalf to even believe the truth if I told him, so the only thing I have is to give him what he wants to hear.

“Oh, on the contrary.” He hoofed at his blue suit jacket, pulling it back and popping the snap buttons on his shirt as he revealed his chest. His chest was a whole canvas of old nicks, gashes, and healed bullet wounds, two of them in particular he pointed to with his hoof. “Had she been a better shot by an inch, I would have died the last time she made her escape. So believe me that I am willing to fire the first shot against her this time, even if it's through you.” Leaning back, he didn’t even bother to fix his shirt. “Care to revise your answer?”

“She sent me in to get somepony out, but I won’t tell you without a trade off.” So, the new plan is to feign hiding a contact with important information, and use it as leverage to release Caltrop and Brightshine before breaking out myself. Horribly thought out, and in no way expected to succeed, but at least it’s a plan.

“I’m listening…” He said, cocking his eyebrow and taking the last puff on his cigar.

“I have a couple of friend’s that you’ve just pulled in to your slave building. I want them released before I give you anything.” I stood still, locking my eyes onto his as he contemplated my offer.

He leaned forward and put his hoof on his own intercom. “You’re lying.” He stated simply and hoofed at the button. “We’re done in here. Get this piece of shit out of my sight.” He stared at me as the door to the office opened and the two guard’s entered, flanking both sides of me. “You know what? Stick her in isolation, if she does have any information on somepony important in here, we'll see how long she lasts down there next to the boilers.”