I was speechless, mouth agape in desperation. My eyes scanned over Grey, rapidly darting from point to point, trying to figure out something that I could do. In all honesty I couldn't do anything, but it didn't stop me from searching for a thing to do. Grey was poisoned, but I knew naught with what. Even if I had some means of brewing an anti-venom or something, where would I begin? There was hardly any of the raw form of it left and my medical textbooks didn't cover the various forms of poison or their symptoms. Only about how the body worked and how to repair torn and broken body parts with the application of magic and medical equipment I no longer had access to!

There was a rough lick on my cheek, and that broke my panicked internal monologue, Scrapyard’s sympathetic whine as he looked back towards the smoking ruins of the Steel Ranger base, still ablaze in unnatural green fire, like a pyre for Cait. Cait, of which I also didn't need another reminder of, who was dead. The stress over the last few months caught up with me as the realization that one of my closest friends were dead and another was dying in front of me broke through my mental barriers, everything that had happened over the last year or so finally pushing into its limelight and I did as any eleven year old filly would do.

I bawled. Curling into a tight ball by Grey's side, and all but screaming my lungs out in sadness as tears flooded my eyes and trickled to the ground, a sobbing mess. Not that I cared for it... Scrapyard whined, but padded away, resigning himself to waiting until I became coherent, and probably to do his own mourning. A few flaps of feathered wings announced the landing of my rescuer, whose approach was muted by the sound of my voice, pleading for Grey to wake up.

"Are.... you two okay?" a familiar voice asked, hesitating briefly.

My mind was too torn to care much for whoever it was, as I tried to explain the predicament and that Grey was poisoned, my unconstrained emotions, however, causing it to come out as an incoherent mess.

A pair of hooves yanked me out of my fetal position, before one of them slapped me across the face, "Oye. Snap out of it. Are you two okay?"

The pain staggered my downward spiral of uncontrolled tears and shut me up, The masked mare before me, I had indeed met before, though I didn't know if she could help or not, "Grey's been poisoned!" I blurted out, the first coherent thing I had said in the past few minutes, tears still falling freely, "And I can't do anything about it!"

"Poisoned?" The orange masked mare asked, and pulled me aside, setting me on my rump with her hooves before heading to Grey.

"Can you do something to help him?" I asked, and she dismissively waved a hoof at me while she examined the stallion.

After several minutes, the mare sighed, "Could of if we were in Hollow Shades... But that's across Equestria, it ain't a poison I've used before, but I do know its symptoms." The Masked Nightmare Nighter looked to me, face unreadable but her voice a bit regretful, "Sorry lovebug, the best you can do is hope his immune system can fight it off. We should probably get him out of here before that balefire radiation worsens his chance at living." she nodded towards the giant pyre of fire. In all the tragedy, pain, and sorrow, I had hardly noticed my pipbuck ticking away at the sacrifice that Cait had made. Slowly I understood the necessity, idly grabbing and collecting his stuff and putting his bag on top of my own saddle bags and struggling to lift the stallion as well. I felt the weight lessen as the winged pegasus went to his other side, and helped me support him. Dragging him away and into the base of the mountain range closest to us, to the east. She continued to lead us to a cave, not too far off the ground, and set Grey down on the cold stone.

She muttered something about grabbing some wood for a fire, and I just nodded numbly. Grey was going to be alright, right? He was a sturdy stallion who had survived getting a leg and both his wings removed, and from the scars he had also survived any number of wounds as well. But poisons weren't an injury you could chug a healing potion or wrap up and wait to heal. It was a disease used by evil ponies and creatures who needed a quicker way to kill larger prey. But Grey was strong! I reasoned internally.

I tended to Grey, his forehead had been covered in sweat, and I used some of my canteen's water and a piece of spare cloth from my bag to wipe at it, he had a fever. A probable symptom of the poison. All my attention became absorbed on tending to Grey, not even noticing when the orange mare returned, and started a fire in the small cave, only briefly stopping to sterilize the rags in an empty can of water and continue treating him, allowing him to use both his and my own sleeping bag for optimal comfort, and a frenzy of activity. I barely slept over the course of time. Eventually, though I didn't know how much time had passed before the orange mare pressed a can of open, and cooked yams into my hooves, "Eat." She commanded.

I turned my gaze from Grey, looking at her, then at the food, "Not hungry..." I mumbled the excuse.

"You've been at it all day and night, and it is day again."

She sighed as I still made no move to take it, "Do you think that old guy would like it if you starved yourself worrying over him? Eat."

She, admittedly had a point, and though my mind wanted to ignore it, my own stomach grumbled. So I slowly nodded my thanks and ate, hurriedly, so that I could go back to watching over Grey. I felt slightly better afterwards, but still worried sick about him. His body was covered in sweat, and I took care to keep him clean, hours seemed to pass in the span of years as I watched him. Eventually the orange mare went to sleep... I didn't, sleep. To the point of fighting back the fading edges of my consciousness, and watching over my mentor as he slowly tossed and turned in his own discomfort as blood fought poison at a microscopic battle of wills, skill, and luck.

After an unknown span of time my head started to sink. My body's aches came more clear, and without a word of conversation, there was little to do to distract me from tending to Grey, of which I could do very little, or suffer with my thoughts. If only I had been a bit stronger, or older. More competent. How much had my inexperience had ruined so far since I left the stable? My mind searched backwards. Even the very act of leaving had been bolstered by Grey's influence. Without him I probably would of been stuck at the Stable Door, caught, and then subjected to the influence of a hive minder until my will broke. If I did somehow get out, if it wasn't for a combination of luck that the guards got caught by the nest of bloat-sprites, they would have given chase long before I made any distance from that horrid place of slaughter.

Further on, I reminded myself that if I hadn't met Cait and Scrapyard, I would of likely had become art for a raiders nest. Had I of been more competent, perhaps I could of saved more ponies, no, beings. The two sentient A.I.'s, one who was trying to secure his own place in the wasteland, and the other who sacrificed herself for my sake. Maul and his slow aching internal bodily prison. Cait's Suicide to secure the rest of our escape from his suddenly hostile neighbor of a chapter of Steel Rangers. Scrapyard being nearly murdered, and the overall state of misery that the entire wasteland was in. If I had been more competent, I could of dodged the knife, and Grey wouldn't of thrown himself in the way of the thrown knife.

Cait was dead. That thought sparked again in my mind. It just didn't seem possible. So cheerful and full of life, in armor that was some of the best ever made in Equestria. To know that he had gone out in a balefire explosion was... heart wrenching, yet somehow like him. What fate would he have ended with if he hadn't needed to use that balefire launcher? I pondered that, myself to the end of which Cait could of hadn't all Tartarus broken loose in that accursed base. Would he of became an Elder, perhaps, or of died in his sleep? Cait had been a more lively friend than a patient one, and seeing him as sitting behind a desk giving orders to others didn't really suit my mental image of the ranger. Not that any of my questions mattered, he was dead. Just like the rest of my caste, the rest of several other castes in the stable, Trixie, scientists, raiders, all this death. It was too much.

My thoughts flickered to the past, how did Equestria used to be so cheerful? I canceled that line of thought. War was the answer, but that war had long since ended and left both nations doomed to a wasteland of hopelessness. What could I, one Changeling, do to change that? After a moment of consideration, I had to admit to myself not much. Science and magic had ruined the world in its pursuit of weapons, and only more science and magic could probably fix that. More so was fixing the individuals who made up the nation. I wasn't made for either roles. I had been made a Soldier in the stable. While I fancied myself a Medical pony, that job was gone with my horns ability to cast the spells themselves. While I could still treat the injured, provided with supplies, it was never going to get as effective as it was before. So what role did that put me in? What could I excel at?

I took another look at Grey, wiping away and replacing the rag that was on his forehead. Rarely did I ever look away, but this gaze was to his injuries. I wondered how many of those scars had been from ponies, and which had been the mutated wildlife of the wasteland. I knew his three largest injuries had been caused by Bulldozer in the past, with his wings and leg. But how many more I wondered, did that particular menace to society inflict upon my aged mentor. Briefly, I recalled a story, he had shared during the earlier days of my castes training, during a break between learning how to climb a rough uneven stone wall with our hooves, and the hour long jog around the Arena, which still served as the training ground for changelings whenever an event wasn't happening.

We were panting with exhaustion, and with Grey's remarks to building up our meager stamina we were given a short break, in which to rest. One of the more courageous members of our caste, who had lasted until failing the magic aptitude test, had asked him how he got the scar on his eye. His usual scowl had then became a look of resignation, as several others chirped in that they wanted to know as well. Eventually our buggering had caused him to agree to share with us a story. Fourteen remaining changelings of the case, myself included at the time, gathering around him with eyes of wonder at our usually harsh but fair mentor.

After a moment of thought, he had begun with, "It started a long time ago, far before any of you little ones were born. I was in the outside world, far more... intact." He would gesture to his metal leg, which acted, like always, more of a peg-leg than an actual leg, it was a lot cleaner in my memory than it was currently, a sign of its recent wear through the wasteland, and I continued on remembering the story, "I was out there in the wasteland with a few companions, investigating a rumor of trouble that had been plaguing one of the few half decent villages in the cloudy world of the surface, and it lead to us going deep underground, in a cave far unlike the one we're currently in."

He had our attention, absorbed in the story he was sharing with us, "With rough stone walls and uneven flooring, a room dripping with water and a foul smell of death in the air, we tracked the rumor down to its nest. Apparently whatever was down there was forcing the village to give it sacrifices of other... ponies. As food, for its greedy gluttonous stomach. Regular food, or a diet of the mutated fauna or wildlife didn't suit it, and it craved pony-flesh."

We shivered, at that idea, with a fair bit of repulsion, though I had suspected that 1993-17 had been imagining with rapture something eating the scientists in the Stable at that point. Grey continued on, his voice still slow and methodical as he he continued his story, "Down we crept, through a maze worth of cold stone, with naught but a pipboy light, a flashlight, and a torch to light our way. Then we found the creatures lair."

He paused, as if wondering how much to share with us, "It was decorated with the bones of the ones who had been served to it before us, a mound of them on either side of the cavern as if a mound of gold for a dragon. It lurked in the dark, and its outline was unclear, but later would its form be easily enough to identify." He paused.

"What did it look like?" One of us had asked.

"It was tall, incredibly so, more than five times the height of I. With the front body of a hunting cat, and the back half of a goat. The creature opened a set of eyes, revealing in the dim lights a set of almost glowing fangs in the dark as the first head lifted up into the air above its body, watching us warily. Then a second head rose, eyes no less Menacing, but instead of fangs, so long that they jutted from the cat like head's mouth, this one had horns, curved as if the devils of tartarus themselves had manifested in it. From behind it, its tail would jet out, another strange edition to the body of the creature, long, covered in scales, with a snake like head to match."

"It had three heads?" another asked, in disbelief, "What in Equestria was it?"

Grey had chuckled, though by the tone of it, you could tell it was one of slight malice towards the thing he had fought long ago, "It was a Chimera, yet not one at the same time. A creature that had once been made up of all sorts of animals, only its genes got mutated by the taint in the wasteland, and increased its ferocity, size, and appetite."

"How'd you beat it?" One of us asked then.

"Was getting to that, here we were, a small group of ponies versus the most nightmarish creature you could imagine. Like a hunter, it wasn't surprised at our appearance for long, and crossed the distance between us in a blur of speed, taking off at near full speed with the span of seconds. Even less time, it took, for it to ram one of us, crushing the poor guy against the wall with the goats horns, bigger than his ribs. We opened fire. It was utter chaos then, it took dozens of wounds, and over the course of the battle it knocked out my two companions. When it tried to finish them off, I taunted it. Calling it all sorts of infuriatingly insulting yet accurate names in order to get its attention, though the guns helped. It lunged towards me, as I pulled a grenade out of my bag with my mouth, and in a well versed set of timing and desperation, slid under its lunging paws. One of its saber tooth fangs clawed this scar into my face as I slid by, depositing the metal apple into its open mouth, taking its pin with me as I ran to my companions. The stupid thing tried to spit it out, but instead of letting it drop, it tried to push it between its fangs to get it to get out."

"What happened then?" I remembered asking.

He had deadpanned, like it was obvious, "It exploded."

"Cool!" Another one of us shouted, his hooves raised to the air.

"What happened afterwards?" I asked, wanting to hear how the rest of that tale.

He paused, his eyes momentarily glazed over in thought, before he shook his head, "That, will be a story for another time, now get moving! Can't have you all slacking off when the other castes be getting ahead in their training!"

All of us had groaned, but we did as we were told, a good report of small hooves resuming their training on packed dirt.

I smiled grimly at the memories, a pleasant distraction as my eyes drooped. Quickly I snapped myself awake as I felt a hoof on my shoulder. Shaking it off, I looked to the Nightmare Nighter and she asked, "Have you even slept yet?"

Warily, I shook my head no. "Sleep," she ordered. "I'll watch your friend."

I mumbled incoherently, and she just stared at me, that ever present bag like mask on her head staring until I eventually nodded, Moving over to a nearby spot and passing out after getting myself situated. I considered it luck that I had a dreamless sleep. After all, I was expecting nightmares to haunt me after losing Cait and Grey being...

He will live, I told myself. A small mantra in sleep. I slept like a log, the aches and pains in my body dulled by the sweet mercy of unconsciousness. In knew naught how much more time passed before I was nudged.

Wake up Lovebug.

I stirred and groaned, aching body now that it hadn't moved in a while, resisting the urge to disrupt its needed rest.

I need your help. Something is wrong!

My jumbled mind and resisting body tried to go back to sleep.

Damnit Bug!

A gunshot caused me to leap up from my rest with a jolt of panic, as I got to see that the Nightmare Nighter had fired into a wall, to get me up and moving. She was currently Struggling with Grey. His face was contorted in pain and his hooves curled as I rushed over, fearing the worst.

"Help me hold him down, damn it. He's going to hurt himself!" The Nightmare Nighter spat between being batten in the face by a hoof and kicked in the gut by Grey's rear hoof. She wrestled the side of Grey's front legs down on one side, and I moved to hold down his rear leg as he spasmed.

It took both of us together to hold Grey down until his seizure ceased, then together we resituated the older stallion a bit further from the fire. His skin was extremely hot to the touch, and I used colder water this time with the rags in order to bathe his face and clean up the sweat and dirt that the stallion had on him again, "What happened? How long was I asleep?" I asked the Nightmare Nighter.

"A good while, I've been watching your friend most of the time while cleaning my guns and he was fine a minute ago. Then he started thrashing and I woke you up." The Nightmare Nighter replied, stretching and momentarily flinching, putting a hoof in her mask, "Yep, I think he gave me a black eye. Eesh... Strong hoof on that one."

"Nothing else happened?" I asked, and she shook her head, as I checked Grey's still unbroken fever, as I started to reapply and cycle the rags of wet water, and continued cleaning and soaking Grey in its heat. Beside me, my book was a flutter of pages as my spare hoof cycled through my medical textbook, eyes rapidly swapping between making sure that Grey wasn't going to grow worse in health while the poison went through his body, and from scanning the symptoms once again. There had to be something I could do! Something!

Wordlessly I continued my vigil, the orange mare leaving at some point and coming back with a large mole like creature, it was dead and she cooked it, and my momentary revulsion to meat was met with an image of a few weeks before, where Cait was eating the radspids with Scrap. My breathe tightened as tears began once again to fall. Images of Cait paired with the blurry death he had given himself, and memories dragging me back towards the stable, where the various deaths of my caste had been played out before me, at first subtle, and later, not so much. To think if there had been another bullet in that gun, number 1993-17 would be here and not me. She would of been a lot more skilled in things out here than I was.

Adjusting my body, I ceased to sit, and instead curled myself into a ball on my side. Remembering everypony that had died in my short life thus far. I had been alive for such a short time, if the world was truly naught but filled with death, how many had Grey witnessed to perish in his time? How many lives had I ended just by leaving the stable? What would of been done differently if I had chosen to go in another direction than directly forward away from the stable? Or if any of the rest of my caste had made it instead?

I imagine that they'd be dead.

My ears flicked up and over as they went to block out sound reflexively as I ignored the voice, but it was in my head, not a sound wave, so my attempts to do such was futile, I grunted mentally, Not now Roggar...

Your memories would prove a point, '1993-17' was a far more aggressively minded member of your family, and it was that aggressiveness that lead to her carelessness. Her bulk and straightforward manner would of been eventually had lead to her death in any number of places, even before meeting Cait. Do you honestly think that she would of survived long enough to even of reached the brute you first encountered or the mind enough to work with Cait and his dog?

I sighed, If not 17, then why not any of the rest of my caste? Can you honestly say that none of them would of done better than I have?

If a voice could roll their eyes, it just did with its tone, Yes, I can say that none of them would of lasted as long. Seeing as your program was to root out the best suited member of your caste for their army, and seeing as you're the sole survivor within your minds knowledge of that laboratory of a stable, and the first one to escape their clutches and also having resisted one of your own species 'Hive-Minders' long enough for a pleasant turn of events to happen in all this sorrow.

I didn't have the energy nor willpower to dispute his reasoning, so I just fell silent on the matter. There was a rough sigh in my head, however, I will admit, so much death is draining on someone so young of mind, and it doesn't help that you're forced to be an adult without time to really full grow into one, but it is far more important to let the dead rest where they are in your thoughts. It is impossible to change that fact that they are deceased, take it from me. Instead, focus upon the living, lest they end up in the grave in your absence. Though I fear it may be too late for your friend, here, the least you can do is make sure his passing is a pleasant one and that you learn from your experiences, instead of being crippled from them.

I closed my eyes, and opened them again, wearily replacing the now cooled rag again with the next hot one before resuming my watch over my mentor.

It is so frustrating, being unable to treat this poison, or do anything to fix this. If I could cast my old spells-

Then we'd still be in this position. that glow you can create with your horn may be able to stitch flesh back together and reset bones, but poison is a completely different beast that you haven't been trained in. Not that there was much reason to do so until now. Where we're going and been, actual poison hasn't been that much of a problem.

My mind flicked back to the radspids, as evidence of the contrary.

A spider's toxin is far different than the poison administered by assassins. For one, a spider typically turns the insides of its prey to liquid to eat, this, however, is far more malicious.

Assassin? Did you literally just say butt-butt-in?

Assassin, its a term used to describe an individual who uses stealth and deception to remove the lives of others. Be it for pay or out of self interest.

Changelings certainly fit that bill, considering our main preferred tactics. My curiosity was subdued by my quiet misery, however, and we spent the next few hours in silence. I was almost dozing off again, a mark of my exhaustion, when the first glimmer of hope with Grey emerged. At first, it was a ragged draw of breath from the shallow ones he had been taking thus far, along with a ragged coughing and wheezing, I rushed to grab a bottle of water while Grey coughed, and helped him into a sitting position, using my side as a makeshift pillow for him as I put the water beaker to his lips.

He drank, a few gulps before pushing it away with a hoof, weakly, as he coughed a bit more, "Aria...?" he said between coughs, his eyes dazed as he slid down onto his back, letting out a long breath after the initial wheezing had passed.

The mention of my name already had my response under way, "I'm here Grey, how are you feeling?"

He took a moment, comprehending what I said, before responding, his voice quiet, "Feels like the stars themselves have kicked me in the heart... Ugh... Aria...?"

"Yes Grey?" He was talking, and that was a good sign, right?

"How're you holding up?" he asked.

He was on the verge of his deathbed and he was asking how I was holding up? I couldn't help it, another stream of tears flowed out while I chuckled, a pain filled, sobbing, ugly laugh, "You've been poisoned and stabbed in the chest with a throwing knife that was meant for me and You're asking how I'm doing? Really Grey?"

His own chuckle was emitted, though he seemed to quickly regret it as another wave of pain rolled in him and he coughed again, groaning momentarily, "I didn't mean... physically. Aria, I'm sure you know as well as I that I'm dying."

"You've survived worse?" I spoke it more as a hopeful inquiry than a statement. A desperate plea that my hopes would be answered, but the slow shake of his head eliminated all such hope.

"Maybe have I been younger, and less worn throughout the years. I know my limits in any case..." He spoke quietly, calmly, his face ever so slightly grimaced in pain, "Aria. I need to tell you some things... Things you may hear in the future, great things and terrible things, but I want you to remember those who fall for how you remembered them."

"Grey..." My voice naught but a whisper now, as my mentor held back another cough, and continued on.

"The trials in this world are tough and cruel, but it is through our trials we become stronger, and better able to combat those threats. But like all things, these trials must eventually come to an end. We all die eventually, just as this nation did, and as our enemies fall, so do we."

His tone of finality, it was heart wrenching, "I'm sorry Grey... If I had been faster and stronger, I could of-"

His eyelids parted into an angry glare at first the ceiling before concentrating on me, his voice loud enough to cause me to flinch, both from the volume and his glare, "Do not blame yourself for what has transpired Aria. You were moving to the best of your abilities, and while I may not know the intricacies of magic and changeling magics I know the struggle you were under would of had many other changelings in that stable of shot me in the head then and there, but you didn't."

He put heavily emphasis on that last word, before coughing loud and hard enough to have a few specks of blood to land on the stone floor of the cave, his voice more gravely as I watched in horror as his body was failing on him, "Now... listen. For both the stars and the princesses above, sake, listen... and bring me your pipbuck."

"I'm... listening." I told him, as I curved my bound hoof, the metal device upon my leg, to his front.

He eyed it over, flipping through a few sections till he reached a particular locked file, and inserted a code. My pip buck's screen went from green and orange to green and white as the front screen started to resort its files, and he pushed it away, as he spoke quietly, "This will share with you my story, Aria, it is a collection of all my knowledge before entering the stable... and a lesson for you to take on your own time... I... I have a secret to tell you, in regards to your creation in that stable."

I moved my pipbuck back under myself as I propped grey into a more comfortable position, and he continued, a bit firmer, "They use pony DNA alongside the changeling samples that they have procured through the years, though their results are typically the same, but each caste of changeling has been related in some way to one or more of the ponies within a stable."

My head was now curved around to look Grey in the eyes while his head was against my side, eyes searching for the meaning in his words. His own words trailing off as he took in a few more ragged breaths before continuing, with a smile smile and sad eyes, "Look in my watch, and you will see the mare who's hair was used as the genetic sample of your caste... and the father."

My mind was starting to link things together, as Grey fumbled for his coat, I pulled open the pocket and withdrew his pocket watch, opening it up. It was a picture. A picture of him, as a pegasus, far younger and with visibly less scars upon his body, his mane blue and red, standing with another pony, who had the hair remarkably similar to mine. I looked up from the watch and into his eyes, a small grin still adorning his face, "You remind me... so much... of your mother."

That hoof of his reached up, and I leaned into it, several pieces suddenly clicking into place, Grey had really been my father? All this time I had a dad, and been traveling with him? The waterworks began again, but Grey's hoof moved from my hair, to my cheek, as if to quell that rain, "None of that now..."

"But... You're going to be gone..." I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "Why are you telling me this? It's hard enough..."

He chuckled, again, the smile growing, "I will never be truly gone, not while you carry a piece of me in your heart and mind. Besides... death is but a temporary separation. I will be waiting for you in the lands above, Aria... No, my daughter... I was ready to meet my maker a long time ago back when I first lost everything. Whether my Maker was prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter..." His smile faded, as his hoof slowly collapsed back to the floor, "Aria... I'm afraid this is... where we part... I'll... I'll see you on the other side someday... I love you..."

"I love you too...Dad." I told him, as Grey went quiet, as his breathing slowed once again, and his eyes fluttered shut.

In the end, he died, a smile on his face, as his chest stopped moving, and his heart ceased its beating. I stayed there, embracing him in a hug, for the rest of the night, as the only other occupant that was still in the cave, watched in muted silence.

Outside, Scrapyard howled.

Xp Footnote: 80% until level up.

Companion: Grey Iron has died!

Footnote: Legacy of the Mysterious Stranger: Grey has given you access to his personal records throughout the years he has traveled and been in the wasteland. The secrets and notes as well as quests he has been completing throughout the years have been added to your pipbuck and you have also been left with his watch, and unique gun, Lucky... You've made your father proud over time, Aria. Remember him well...

Next Chapter: Chapter 40: Funeral Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 7 Minutes