Chapter 2 another Day Another…
By: ZCD99

*Note: Sorry about the foul language but the only scene wasn’t right without the swearing. That and Rider is a potty mouth. Thank You.

-Rider-

Eating to my filling I decided to head down to the lobby and see our new customer. I headed down the hall taking my time to check on any of the other patients and see how they were holding up. I don’t normally like checking patients but I hate slave surgery even more. It’s such a dull process compared to the other things we could do to them.

“Aww shit!” I said to me out loud “My Griffin instincts are getting the best of me again”

That’s been a resent problem with me lately. I’ll be having normal nice thoughts and then BAM! I think of torture or Death or anything violent for that matter. Grease says it’s a part of the Griffin brain to be over violent and a little selfish at times. I toy with him saying he’s just racist and needs to stop hating. But in all reality I know it’s true. That’s the only reason the slave camps and Quarries are run by Griffins instead of ponies.

When I reached the end of the hall I saw that Grease was already talking to the patient. “Hell,” I whispered “let’s have some fun.”

I stood up, kicked open the door and shouted “You! Slave! What are you doing here?”

By the look on Greases face I could tell I was in a load of hell now. The Pegasus jumped and began bucking at anything she could get at. Grease ran and calmed her down with a quick spell from his horn. The young Pegasus soon became a little slower until she finally collapsed unconscious.

Grease turned to me “What in Celestia’s god for fucking sakes name did you do that you dumb fucking bastard!”

I lowered my head “Shit! I didn’t think she would have a god damn heart attack!”

Grease even more enraged began again “She’s bean in Quarry 13 She could have easily broke any of her god damn bones because of your tough shit comment!”

Damn I thought now I’m really screwed. I didn’t know she was from Q13. He’s going to bring up the brain surgery again, and if he does was fucked for another adventure to the testing facility.

Greasy began to berate me about how we need to swap up the Medulla and replace it with a pony’s to fix my anger problems. So now after the surgery we have to go to the damn labs and steal more of their tech and chemicals to fix my problems. Shit no sleep for me.

After about an hour the Pegasus slowly regained conciseness I came over and apologized to her.

“Hey! Your awake I’m sorry about all that back there I’m just a little uncontrollable sometimes that’s all.”

She lifted her head and began to doze off again.

“Hey, Hey, Hey wait up you need to eat the Red Root before you go back to sleep.”

She looked up and opened her mouth. I placed the roots on her tongue and she began to chew. In a few moments she became limp again and we began the operation. Greasy left the room calmer than he was and brought back his little black bag of tools and instruments. Grease pulled out a piece of black chalk and made a light circle around Clare’s Cutie Mark. He then took out a somewhat rusted scalpel and made the circular cut around the markings. The incision began to bleed and I went to the back closet and brought back a gray small rag to clean up a little. Grease nodded to me and I retrieved the small paring knife from the bag and began to slide it under the Pegasus’s flesh, removing skin from muscle.

Greasy left and brought back a roll of gauss to wrap the area. We then proceeded to do the same to the opposite Cutie Mark. When we were finished it was about 5:30 and moved Clare to the other side of the room for her leg operation. We first made an insertion down her right hind leg and began cutting through muscle. Once through Grease handed me a Bone saw with the letters ADML on the handle. This stood for Arbor Dale Medical Labs, the place we stole it from. In fact about 95% of all the items down her had those same initials on them.

I began to cut through the bone and exchanged the femur with the sturdy steel replica. It fit a little snug but that was expected with most bone replacements. Grease took over and began sewing up the muscle and skin. He then left for the closet and came back with a few leg braces. The first one was too small but the second one fit quite well around her leg.

By now it was about 6 and Greasy carried her over to the patient’s quarters with his unicorn magic. There were about twenty beds all filled with ponies of different color and sizes. This was the hardest part, checking to see who needed to leave and getting them to go.

I began walking up and down the aisles and checking the clipboards for specific dates and times of surgery. Most of them should have already have left about a week ago. I began by saying “Thank you for coming for our services, but it is time for you to depart. If you will please grab your belonging I would be glad to lead you all to the exit.”

There was no response.

I began again “Please take your things and leave we have others patients who will be taking your places.”

A cult stood up and began to yell, “Why can’t we stay longer it’s not like any of these others will survive out there anyway!”

“Because were not a refugee camp that’s why!” Greasy yelled.

I gave him a puzzled stare and he looked at me with hatred in his eyes. I turned knowing that it was not intended for me but the stubborn cult in front of me. He and the cult continued to argue. I began to look over the clipboard in a small blue mare’s bed. She had the same surgery that Clare had just a few hours ago. She would be leaving. The yellow mare with her young orange filly, they’ve been here for two weeks, they would be leaving. Another colt this time smaller, nine days, he was going to go. Just about everyone in this room had been here well over a weak. They all needed to be gone.

I stood in front of them all and began yelling over the commotion “We will go down your patient numbers and if I read your number you will be leaving… today.”

Murmurs arouse through the group. Someone protested but Grease toned him out with a silence spell.

I cleared my throughout “Numbers 125, 126, 127, 130, 131, 135, 139, and number 141. Please pack your things and leave. We can do no more for you here.” There were a few gasps and a cry from the filly but it had to be done.

As the last of the ponies left the facility Greasy came up to me and said. ”That was brave of you to do that Rider.” He began. “I would never have been able to get them to leave without your help.” There were only about three beds left with bodies in them. Clare, a mare who had recently had there Cutie Marks removed, and an elderly cult who would be leaving with the mare after he had regained conscience.

“All right.” said Greasy, “Let’s get packing; we’ve got a lab to rob.”