The next two weeks came and went without too much excitement, consisting mostly of me hanging around the field hospital sitting on my hands and waiting for things to happen. That was broken up once by checkups for everyone in second platoon, and after Lita's warning I guess I should have been prepared for that. Most of the troops were healthy enough, and most of those who had a case of anything were just minor things like irregular molting patterns, but some poor griffoness by the name of Corporal Direwinds had the worst infestation of mites I think I've ever seen in my life. Most of her flight feathers had fallen out to reveal patchy, scaly skin underneath, and she was looking at likely months of reduced or absent ability to fly even after we treated her. The news only got worse for her, since the treatment consisted of a thorough weekly washing with a sulfurous dip that might as well have been brewed by a zebra shaman from the most foul rotten eggs available. Better yet, her squad wasn't going to be happy to learn that they were getting the same malodorous treatment, lest they get the mites too, but it was on her to break that news, not me.

That was pretty minor compared to the one major injury we received two days later. I'd just gotten there that morning when two griffons came barreling through the front door, dripping blood all over the lobby as they went. The victim was Private Stormclouds, a griffon from fifth squad of my platoon who couldn't have been past twenty, and who had been assigned guard duty at the wall of the main gate that morning. Apparently the ponies manning one of the machine gun emplacements were having trouble reassembling their weapon, and he was assisting them when he got the not so bright idea to try to hammer in a mount pin with what was first available at hand: a .50 caliber bullet for that gun. One hit struck the firing pin and set it off like a miniature frag grenade in his hand, all but removing two of his fingers and shredding the ligaments and bones in the rest of his hand. He was damned lucky we were able to save his hand at all, but I shared sentiments with Yvonne that he wasn't likely to recover much use of his fingers. What that would mean for his continued service was up to Lieutenant Blackfeathers after he recovered enough to go back on duty.

So, actually I guess it could have been more boring, and I was thankful to be there rather than back on guard duty in the end. At least that way I wouldn't have to deal with the slaves in any capacity, whether that meant chasing them down, watching my sister beat them to within an inch of their lives or even just watching them toil away in misery. You can imagine my exuberance then, when Serge informed me one morning that my training schedule had been adjusted again and I was back on guard duty for the next few days. The Pit was coming up, and with it often came a rash of increased “misbehavior” of the slaves, supposedly. The Lieutenant wanted more eyes on them for now, so joy, oh joy, that meant I was back to doing just that.

At least they could have assigned me somewhere else. Through some sort of twisted karma, our squad was being broken up to serve as temporary stand-ins throughout the city, and I got the honors of replacing Private Stormclouds at the wall.

Yawning hard, I drifted over the wall and flared my wings to catch a warm updraft and save some energy. The shift in schedules meant I'd been sent straight there after half a day at the clinic, and the day had dragged on and on ever since I arrived. Even with a full night's sleep I'd have been fighting to remain alert, but as usual I'd only managed about five hours tops the night before. I glided over the faint glow of the city's moat, watching the streams of green on the surface churn ominously. A bubble large enough to contain me rose to the surface and burst, spewing a yellow-green mist high into the air and coating the near wall with the vile substance. Shallow ridges covered the patchwork concrete surface where the toxic runoff had begun eating away at it over the years, giving me yet another reason to be glad I wasn't one of the ponies manning the wall itself. Being so close couldn't be good for your health.

No sooner had the thought entered my mind than a plume of noxious air from the bubble engulfed me. I coughed and gagged as I rolled to bank out of the suffocating fumes as fast as I could, sure that the burning in the back of my head was an early indicator that I really didn't want to breathe any more of it. At least it woke me up. Blinking to clear some of the sting from my eyes, I soared back past the wall and over the patch of cracked asphalt that served as the city's 'welcoming' area for caravans.

I'd been struggling to keep lucid ever since I arrived at my station, which was curious and frustrating considering how active the area was. Regular patrols dotted the uneven and dilapidated sheet metal fortifications along the wall itself, broken up by the occasional guard tower or machine gun emplacement. My right hand tingled when my eyes swept over the nearest gun nest. Was that the one Private Stormclouds fell victim to? I didn't plan on getting close enough to find out, and banked again to fly over a search light past the gatehouse itself. My feathers stood erect as I passed through the electrical field surrounding the twisted mesh of razorwire atop the gate itself, and for a moment I feared a bolt of the crackling energy would leap over to me.

Pulling away from that disaster waiting to happen, I ascended and scanned the area again. Really, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. Serge just told me to, 'you know, just fly around and keep an eye out,' and I was doing a pretty decent job of the flying around at least. A flapping figure circling over a guard tower in the distance caught my eye. Leigh was supposed to be out here too somewhere, but for the most part I was on my own. Just keeping watch when there were three dozen slavers and three dozen more pony guards visible at all times. What was going to happen? I suppose a slave was going to work his or her way past all of them with a pack full of escape supplies, climb the wall or squeeze through a drainage pipe and somehow make it past the moat of rotting death? Bleh, I was mostly there for show. As long as I didn't try to hammer a pin into place with a tiny explosive, nothing of any interest was going to happen.

Three back-to-back lengthy yawns were followed by an irritated snort. I hated being sleepy like this. No matter how much I knew that I wasn't going to have an opportunity to sleep any time soon, my body frankly didn't care. It's not possible to fall asleep while flying, thankfully, but if you're sleepy enough you can get dangerously close to it. I shook my head to clear it, spying a collection of townhouses circling a brown and dead garden lined with crumbled old stone benches. Those roofs were awfully inviting. I could still keep an eye out from up there, right? And if I microslept, at least I wouldn't likely drop my gun on someone or something. The slightly humorous image of my gun bopping a slaver pony on the head popped into mind, but the realization that I would be the one to treat that concussion made it a lot less funny. Besides, I was getting along with Yvonne too well to mess it up like that.

With my sense of morbid humor satisfied, I turned toward the homes. A heavier blanket of clouds was rolling in from the east, and having a little cover from the inevitable downpour of erosive, stinking rain would be a nice bonus. Without even a moment more of deliberation I found a spot under the awning of the nearest roof, tensing when the ancient wooden roof creaked and groaned under my weight. The gritty shingles wouldn't do my palms any favors either, but that was better than being soaked. After the wood settled beneath me I chanced a glance back out toward the gate. Sure, I could see everything from up here, and maybe a chance to sit down for a minute while I waited for the storm to pass would satisfy the nagging part of my brain that demanded I drop what I was doing and go to sleep.

Yeah, sure. I could dream, right?

“Behold!” a stallion with a curiously mechanical voice bellowed to my right. I snapped my head over to see a brown earth pony with a pristine flannel shirt sitting next to me. He grinned and mumbled something inaudible before raising a hammer up and pulling a nail from his shirt pocket. “With these, we can rebuild the homes, towers and lanes of mass transportation that will bestow freedom and prosperity upon generations to come!”

He started banging the nail into the roof in a spot that seemed an awful lot more arbitrary than practical, then said, “The work is hard, yes, but only through the generous gift of our efforts can our children have a better world!” Why was he shouting at me? Who the heck was this pony anyway, and how'd he get up here?

Casually, he tossed the hammer over his shoulder and threw both hooves into the air. “Workers! Welcome, and thank you for joining me!”

I gasped and lurched away from the wall I was propped against. Pattering rain fell all around me, running off the roof above to merge into little streams that cascaded down to the street below. Son of a- I'd fallen asleep! Of course, why I thought anything else was going to happen was beyond me...

“You are workers!” a deep and commanding female voice shouted from the streets below.

Did I recognize her? Maybe. I crept closer to the corner I was positioned at and peered down at her. My heart skipped a half dozen beats in my chest. Perched atop the porch of another home was none other than Captain Stern herself. Shit! If she'd seen me sleeping up here...

“You work toward the building of a better tomorrow, toward the New Equestria. Your work is your gift to the future. You can either give it willingly, or Master Red Eye will give it for you.”

Finally I tore my eyes off of the black and white griffoness to see who she was addressing. Three rusted through wagons covered in wiring to form crude cages sat in the center of the parking lot. Forty, maybe fifty ponies of all colors and varieties were packed inside, some huddled together, some pressing themselves as far away from the griffon as possible, and others still curled up in the corners and covering their faces. New slaves?

To her right, a robot the size of her head floated up and began blaring a speech. “Every factory that we recover, every mill...” Master Red Eye's voice. The stupid spritebot must have been what I was hearing in my dream.

Crap. I inched away again, blundering into my rifle propped against the wall and catching it an instant before it tumbled down the roof. Double crap. I had to get down and somehow resume my patrol without the captain seeing me. How was I going to do that? If I just took off she'd see me for sure. Anxiety welled up in my stomach as the speech went on and ended.

“I know none of you care about any of that. You're all just caring about your 'freedom.'” Stern leaned forward. “And how do you get that precious freedom? You earn it!”

I plastered myself against the wall and slid down to rest on my haunches. Okay, maybe if I sat still she wouldn't notice. She hadn't seen me yet, right? The rain probably distracted her. It wasn't going to let up in the next minute. I just had to sit still.

The introduction went on for a lot longer than I expected, but if I'm honest I didn't hear another word of it. Between the pounding of my heart and the splattering raindrops around me I couldn't make out anything else she was saying. I just wanted her to get moving so I could resume doing my job, please! For the first time I noticed she was equipped with the most outrageously enormous rifle in existence slung across her back. She pulled it into her grip and rapped her talons on it while making a predatory smile. At long last, she capped the speech off with a grisly ultimatum. “Try anything stupid: rebelling, fighting, running... all of those are fine ways to die horribly. But that is all they are.”

Okay. Okay, speech over, she's about to leave. I peered around the corner again, and sure enough, the ragged slavers strapped to the wagon harnesses pulled for all their worth to drag the new arrivals off to their new life. Fresh creaking and cracking punctuated the rain, but despite my fears of a roof collapsing underneath me, the sounds died out with the departure of the splintering wooden wheels of the wagon train. Whew. In the clear. Captain Stern turned away and spread her wings, surely on her way to take care of something more important than making sure all of us grunts were exactly where we were supposed to be.

She lifted off. All I had to do was get in the air and act like I'd always been there. I snatched up my rifle, adjusted my breastplate, slid over to give my wings room to open fully...

...and lost my footing. My rear left paw hit a puddle of water settled in the depression of a rotting section of the roof and promptly slipped out from beneath me. I yelped an involuntary shrill cry and clawed at the roof with my talons, but it was no use. I slid down the impossibly slick surface, caught a tin gutter and brought it tumbling down with me. My wings spread reflexively, but there was no time to catch any air beneath them before I twisted around and slammed into the pavement with a dozen times the needed force to knock the air from my lungs. Chunks of debris rained down on my back, plinking off of my armor harmlessly until my rifle bounced off it to land next to my face. “Oww...” I whined.

There was no time to whimper like a griffawn who'd skinned his knee this time. Chunks of shingle, wood and twisted tin fell away as I was pulled out of the pile by a foreleg. My 'savior' was a black coated griffoness in Talon armor. She hauled me up to eye level, fixing me with a casual, disinterested look. “Are you hurt?” she asked simply.

This was Captain Stern? I was caught completely off guard by her tone. Everything I'd gathered by reading between the lines told me that she was a griffoness you didn't want to interact with if possible, much less like this. “Uh... I don't think so,” I answered. My body was still a little numb and catching up to the impact, but nothing felt broken or sprained.

“Oh, good.” She released my arm, dropping me on my side. “Now, get up and explain yourself.”

I jumped up and faced her, taking in for the first time just how gigantic she was. Stern towered over me, fully a head taller, and stared back with the tiniest hint of a scowl. “I-I was, the uh, the roof was wet and I slipped.”

“You slipped?” She thrust a talon back to the carts of ponies, who were now staring our way as they were hauled off. “You're making a mockery of my company in front of everyone because you can't stand on your own four feet?”

“N-no ma'am, the-the roof was-”

“Wet? I'm not deaf, private! I don't care if there's a damned hurricane, griffons don't slip on a damp roof!” She leaned in closer. “Where is your station and why are you not at it?”

“I am!” I sort of lied. “I-I'm filling in for Private Stormclouds, patrolling the front gate.”

My stomach lurched as she grabbed me by the breastplate and pulled me close enough to touch beaks. “How can you patrol the front gate if you're sitting on a roof halfway to Friendship City!?”

“I-I could-”

Stern grabbed my beak and twisted my head around to point toward a cluster of buildings to the side of the gate. “Three years ago two guards were killed in that guard shack by an escaping slave.” She forced me to look back to her. “If a slave was slitting someone's throat in there, could you see it from that roof?”

Yes? Wait, maybe not... if I could just look at it again...

“Answer me!”

“No ma'am!”

She pushed me back onto my haunches. “Exactly. I'm going to give you a bit of advice that Heidi might not have told you. I do not tolerate anything short of perfection in my company. My griffons do not make mistakes. They do not slip off of roofs, and they absolutely do not shirk their duty by hiding from the fucking rain on a roof!”

My cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Please, someone, anyone kill me now! Just don't actually kill me, please!

Stern flared her wings. “Count yourself lucky that I have to show this last shipment of dead meat to their cattle chutes. You will not do this again. Now, get back to your post!”

“Yes ma'am!” I scooped up my rifle without bothering to check if it was damaged and leaped into the air. I paid the ache in my wings no mind as I climbed back into the sky, anxious to do anything to put distance between myself and the seething ball of feathers, fur and rage. My heart was pounding!

At least from up there nobody could see how embarrassed I was...

That day couldn't be over fast enough. By the time I was done with my shift I was in no mood to do anything but go directly to bed. Do not pass the mess hall. Do not collect dinner. Just go directly to bed. Not that doing so did much other than get me out of everyone's sight before they had a chance to ask what was wrong. I figured a night's sleep would help me forget Stern's shouting, but really all that happened was I got no sleep at all. Surprise, surprise.

The next morning seemed to take forever to come, but I was thankful when Serge rolled out of his cot and banged on the wall to wake the rest of us up. “Rise and shine ladies and gentlemen. You know what day it is,” he said, switching the lights on.

Carmelita groaned. “Please tell me it's Hearth's Warming Eve and my present is that I get to sleep late.”

If only. No, today was the day I'd finally get to discover what The Pit was all about. Ida had already given me a grisly overview, so I wasn't too enthusiastic. I rolled over and blinked to adjust my eyes to the fresh light. “I thought it was supposed to be this afternoon?”

“It was,” Serge replied, stretching. “The lieutenant told me last night that it got moved up to this morning.”

Lita groaned again and propped up. “I bet she's just doing it to screw with us. She loves that.”

“She doesn't have any control over it,” Leigh chipped in. She yawned and dragged herself out of bed, followed by Isaac.

Ida was next to sit up in her cot. She blinked a couple of times and asked, “Is something else going on this afternoon?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Serge started digging through his locker and said, “The reason it got pushed up is because Master Red Eye is going to be present this time. I guess it's the only time he could make it.”

That drew surprised looks from everyone else in the room. Lita said, “Huh, guess it's a big one then?”

“Yeah, that's right.” He slammed the lid back down, apparently not finding what he was looking for. “So, listen up everyone. Both Master Red Eye and Captain Stern are going to be there watching today. I don't need to tell you what that means.”

Lita sat up proper in her cot. “Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior daddy!” Err, that was a joke right? They had different last names. Serge Swiftwind and Carmelita Galeforce. Yeah, a joke.

“Don't call me that either,” he grumbled. Looking my way, he continued. “This is mostly for you Kaz. This is your first time, so pay attention. We'll be setting up along the roofs surrounding the Pit itself. We're supposed to watch and make sure that things don't turn violent outside of the ring. It's rare, but it happens. If it does, use whatever force is necessary to stop it.”

“Stern usually shoots them before we have a chance to get involved,” Leigh added.

“Right. Anyway, both she and Red Eye are going to be there, so it's imperative that you keep sharp. Captain Stern is a bit of a perfectionist and she won't like it if she thinks you're slacking off. Keep a close eye on the crowd and you'll do fine.”

Oh, believe me, I knew all too well what she was like already. “Got it. How long does it last?” I had to watch, but maybe it would be over fast.

“A few hours usually. The number of rounds varies. I don't know how many combatants there are this time.” Serge headed for the door and stopped to face us. “I've got to speak with the lieutenant. Everyone get suited up and ready to go. It starts in two hours so we have to be there in forty-five minutes.”

What? How did that add up? Ugh, whatever. I rolled out of bed and yawned. Whatever it took, I had to wake up. I'd be damned before I got sleepy and fell off another roof in front of her. She'd probably shoot me.

“I'll go get some coffee started,” Ida announced.

Oh, bless you. She was a real life saver. Maybe even literally.

Forty-five minutes go fast when you're in a hurry, but as I was coming to realize, more often than not being in a hurry ended with a lot of waiting. We were all prepped and ready within ten minutes and within thirty we were all already perched on our building, overlooking The Pit. I can't even remember what we ate that morning. There was some vague memory of coffee and some kind of bread that Lita claimed was dehydrated toast, but after spending fifteen minutes clearing the veritable fog bank in my head I was pretty sure that was a joke too. Dehydrated toast would be... powder. Or something. I yawned and tried desperately to keep awake.

Once again to my frustration, the activity going on below wasn't enough to really keep me alert. Nevertheless, I tried to rivet my attention on the growing crowd of ponies pouring into what looked to have once been a skating rink of some kind. The cracked surface was marred with innumerable old stains and pits from sources I didn't want to dwell too hard on, and the stands for the spectators looked like they'd probably collapsed several times only to be slapped back together with spare wood planks, the occasional rusty bolt and a lot of praying. There were so many ponies filing in that for a moment I feared it would crumble before my eyes.

A covered VIP box was positioned almost directly across from us, reinforced with much sturdier sheets of barely tarnished metal. That would be where Master Red Eye and Stern would be positioned, Ida told me. I expected an armored glass window too if he was really going to be here, but there wasn't even a mesh screen to protect him if the fighting got too close. Strange.

I shifted my weight to relieve the cramping in my back. Sitting on this roof for the better part of the day was going to kill me, but I sucked it up and tried to pretend to pay attention. I chanced a look down the line of griffons to my right, wondering how the rest of my squad dealt with this in the past. They all looked pretty disinterested at the moment, aside from Ida giving me a nervous smirk. “Remember, just keep your eyes on the crowd.” She pulled out a cigarette and offered one to me.

“No thanks.” If I tried smoking right now I'd probably end up dropping it and setting our strip mall on fire. Or The Pit itself. It would probably be hard to convince Stern to not shoot me at that point, so I took the safe route and went back to observing the churning crowd.

So much seemed wrong with the scene. Seeing the slaves happy for a change shouldn't have put me in such an uneasy mood, but I knew why they were happy. Maybe some were just genuinely happy to have a day off from the backbreaking labor, but too many of them looked eager for this bloodbath to get started. It couldn't possibly be as bad as Ida made it sound. Probably just ponies beating the snot out of each other and the occasional death. Right?

Time blurred in the familiar ominous sensation where I wasn't completely aware of the periods between my eyelids growing heavy. I tried to focus my double vision again and again, but ultimately it was the heavy beating of wings and a blast of wind that snapped me out of my stupor. I looked up in time to see Stern zip past us, circle the stadium once and land in the VIP box. She grabbed something and hopped back out before strolling into the center of the arena.

“Mares and gentlecolts, welcome to The Pit! You've got an honored guest here today, and it's because of him you've got the whole day off and a chance to get drunk at the Free Roamer this afternoon.” She raised a claw to the sky and shouted, “Stomp your hooves for Master Red Eye!”

Sure enough, through the attenuated early morning light I could see Master Red Eye's sky chariot drawing closer, pulled by two griffons. Ida lowered her head and splayed her claws over her chest in the symbol of the Talons, something I immediately copied without verifying that the rest of my squad or any of the other two dozen griffons stationed along the perimeter were doing the same. Probably something else Stern would chew me up and spit me out over if I got it wrong.

When I looked up I was first surprised to see that Lieutenant Blackfeathers was helping to pull the chariot, alongside a powerfully built griffon who I'd learned was lieutenant over second platoon. Gunther Strongclaws. Their presence barely registered when I noticed his other companions: a pair of dark green alicorns! No wonder he didn't have better protection in his booth. Who needed it with those at his side? The two giant ponies strode silently next to him as he dismounted and took the microphone from Stern.

“Workers, thank you for joining me,” he began. His voice was so much smoother when not being rebroadcast over an ancient spritebot. Understated even. “Today is a special day for all of you, a day without toil where you can relax and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Through your hard work, we have restored the Roamer Bar, and it is now producing enough drink that you can all partake freely today, as much as you wish.” He swept his cloak and exchanged the microphone to another hoof. “First, however, I give you all the opportunity to see who will next join the army that protects you day and night from threats afar. Those of you who survive six rounds in this arena will join my army, where none can question your place and skill.”

He cast a simple smile around. “Now, sit back and witness how even the lowest of us, or the most wayward can be reshaped into somepony who can service us all.”

Stern accepted the microphone and made the symbol of the Talons as Red Eye retreated into his fortified shelter. The alicorns waiting there flashed their horns and eyes, and in an instant a visible barrier of energy coalesced around them.

“And our first round begins! We've got two old friends fighting this time, folks. Rusty Thresher and Viscera, both ex-Grim Scythes! These two have killed a lot of ponies, and are both here today for murdering fellow slaves. Will Rusty win again and come one step closer to ultimate victory?” Stern jumped into the air and perched in an open spot above Red Eye.

The first round began with a mighty cacophony of fanfare and boos alike, followed by the emergence of the two combatants from their gates. Viscera was a truly disgusting looking lime green unicorn mare, who looked like said lime had started shriveling up and molding. She must have been sixty! Would they really put a sixty year old mare in to fight for her life like this? And against that opposition? Her opponent, Rusty Thresher, was half her age at most. The mud-smeared yellow earth pony stepped out of his gate, flicked his long black mane out of his face and scanned the crowd with his eyes.

“Begin!” Stern shouted.

Viscera charged straight for Thresher, and I looked away. I was supposed to focus on the crowd, not the fighters. Not two seconds later the screams started. My eyes flicked over for long enough to see that Thresher had already twisted her into a lock of some kind and broken at least one leg. With determined and frightening precision he snapped two more legs and tossed the mare aside. I looked away again. Just watch the spectators...

“Finish her off!” Stern's voice boomed over the audio system.

“Keep your feathers on, bitch. I'll get her in a second.” Morbid curiosity drew my attention again, and I saw him fiddling with a pressure plate under a barrel. He stomped the plate and jumped back well in time to avoid something that looked dangerously similar to the moat gunk spewing down. He swished his matted tail and looked at the next barrel.

“You've got thirty seconds. Get to it!” Stern insisted.

“Alright, alright. Fine.” He gave up on the barrels and returned to the suffering mare. With one foot upon her neck, he rammed another forehoof down and stomped her horn off. Again I looked away in time to not witness what brought on the horrible crack that ended her screams. “Sweet dreams.”

“Rusty Thresher wins round one everyone! Who didn't see that coming?”

Focus on the crowd... focus on the crowd... she was a murderer too... she earned that...

“Round two! Rusty's next opponent is Glitter Dust from the metro area. Glitter has been sentenced to fight to the death for repeatedly stealing food. Just think, every time you go hungry, it's because of ponies like her making sure there's not enough to go around!” Resonating boos filled The Pit.

Wait a minute... Glitter Dust? Metro? Stealing Food?

To my horror, a gaunt black mare shambled out of her gate. Or, was pushed out, more like it. She took two shaky steps back when the gate closed and pressed her rump against it, trembling the entire way. Her red irises were framed by completely red and puffy eyes, and the light glistened on damp patches on her cheeks. I'm not a superstitious griffon, but I thanked any gods that were listening that I couldn't hear her weeping. Clearly the pony princess-goddesses weren't there to listen.

It... it looked like they'd fed her since the last time I saw her. They'd fed her enough so she could fight for their amusement! I snapped my head over to Ida, who was wearing a sorrowful look. Not surprise... just... a look of defeat. “You said murderers...”

She nodded slowly and shifted. Was this routine?

“Come on Glitter, get your flank over here!” Stern 'encouraged.' “Or I'll start shooting in ten seconds...”

Glitter's face scrunched up into another stream of sobs and she huddled up into a ball. Seconds stretched on, ultimately punctuated by a thunderous boom from Stern's gigantic rifle. All eyes landed on the black knot of shaking pony. The mare jumped up with a scream and started crawling toward the center of the arena.

“The next shot won't be a warning. Now, fight!”

Rusty snorted and shifted the horn in his mouth from one side to the next like a cigar. Wait... he'd taken Viscera's horn as a weapon? My stomach lurched. “C'mon Glidder. Less get dish over wiff,” he slurred around the bony 'weapon.'

She whimpered and stopped short of the center. Oh, please no... I tore my eyes off of her and stared at a random slave in the stands: a surprisingly obese pink mare with white hair. Just focus on the spectators...

“Come on, Glidder.” Rusty growled. “Okay, fine. Juss ssay dere.”

Focus on the-

A crack rang out, followed by something skidding through the dust. My eyes involuntarily found the two fighters, where Rusty was approaching Glitter, who was now two strides away. The mare held one hoof up to her face and wailed as he approached, followed by balling up and holding both hooves up to cover her head. “Please, I-I-I w-w-w-w-as so-so-”

“Shuff up.” He spat the horn out and raised a hoof. “You know what, Glitter? We're all hungry. I don't like being hungry.” He stamped his hoof on her side, drawing a sharp, truncated scream. “I missed dinner a couple of nights ago because of you. Big mistake.”

She retched and writhed, but no more screams. He must have crushed half of her ribs...

“You pushed one of my buttons, Glitter. Ponies that do that don't live long.” He raised his hoof again. I tore my eyes away to stare at a shingle at my feet. Shingles didn't kill people... I... I could look at that until this was over.

Glitter shrieked. I lowered my head. Focus on the shingle... it wasn't hurting anybody. My hands felt numb. My whole body felt... weak. Focus on the shingle...

“Kaz,” Ida whispered my way. “Kaz, you've got to keep your eyes on the crowd. Kaz?”

Reluctantly, I looked up to a slaver guard standing precariously close to the fencing that separated him from the psychopathic pony and his victim. Try as I might, I couldn't help but look up. Glitter was lying motionless in front of Rusty, oozing blood from her mouth and nostrils. A sensation of queasiness settled in my stomach when I realized I was relieved that she was already dead.

Rusty picked the horn up from the ground and appraised her body. “So. You're hungry, huh, Glitter?” He transferred the horn to his mouth. “How about now?” With a single motion he rammed the tip into her stomach and tore downward. Blood spewed onto the ground... and Glitter screamed again. Feeble hoof waves were batted aside effortlessly as Rusty spat the horn back out. “I'm not hearing a 'no.'”

Seeing blood doesn't bother me. Even at this point in my life, I'd seen so many gallons of it over the years that I could probably swim in it without batting an eye. Gore doesn't bother me either. I've had to stitch people back together from some of the most horrible yet survivable injuries imaginable. Yet, nothing I'd seen or had to do in my life prepared me for what I saw next. My jaw went slack as he casually threaded a hoof through his 'incision' and started pulling out whatever he could feel. Blood and intestines spilled out amidst choking spasms from the dying pony.

I turned away completely, wishing again to any gods that I could plug my ears. Rusty kept going on and on in a casual tone about how he was going to find his oatmeal. Queasiness turned to nausea. My hands were actually shaking.

“Kaz! Kaz, you've got to look!” Ida grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled. “If Stern or Heidi sees you-”

“What? They'll yell at me?” Did she think I gave two shits about that at that point? If Stern shot me off of this perch it would have been a blessing.

Really, I don't know what I planned to say after that. My train of thought jumped the rails and sped off a canyon as I turned to face her... and saw the combatants again. Glitter whinnied pitifully one last time before Rusty finished pulling her guts out, wrapped them around her neck and... literally... strangled her to death with them. “Y'know Glitter, I've always talked about doing this, but you're the first I got a chance to try it on.” He huffed and kicked her body away. “Next.”

I threw up. Everywhere. Dropping my rifle, I fell back onto my haunches and stared out at the lifeless, mutilated mare. Slowly, my eyes tracked up to Red Eye in his box, sitting calmly between his alicorn guards. Not a shred of emotion was on his face. He... didn't care in the least. He just watched a mare have her innards torn out, because he didn't feed her enough, and he didn't care. It's a good thing I'd dropped my rifle. My life probably would have been a lot shorter if I hadn't.

“Whoa...” Lita murmured to my right. Everyone was staring at me.

I couldn't look at the arena anymore. I gave absolutely no shits about what Stern or Heidi did to me right then. The only thing I could look at was the vomit sliding down my breastplate and the roof. Bleeding pinfeathers from Hell... what had I gotten myself into...?

Ida turned away. “Sarge, Kaz is sick.” Yeah, sick. Sure.

Serge grumbled something and said, “He can't leave.” He leaned out to get a clear line of sight to me. “Kaz, they usually keep buckets of water near the old concession stand. You can go get washed up if you want, but I can't let you go, sorry. Hurry back.”

A silent nod was all I gave before easing up. Leaving my rifle where it had fallen, I walked off the edge of the roof and flapped weakly to keep aloft. My whole body felt dead and lifeless... just like Glitter.

“And the winner is Rusty Thresher again! Remember kids, crime doesn't pay!”

With no due respect, ma'am, fuck you. Fuck you and your boss.

A day off for the slaves was not a day off for us, and even when The Pit ended the Talons had to stick around to watch from afar to make sure that the slaves didn't get too drunk and start causing trouble. Like potentially stealing a beer from someone and being sentenced to death for it, say. How generous of Master Red Eye to open up the bar or whatever it was. Mercifully, second platoon took over for us at that point, so we didn't have to stick around. I didn't want to be anywhere near any drunk slaves at that point. One of them would probably end up in The Pit next time because he bumped into a guard or something.

Getting drunk myself didn't sound like such a terrible idea at that point, but of course that was one of the things we weren't allowed to do then. It was for the best anyway. Sure as clouds meant acid rain here, Liese was part of the force keeping an eye on the slaves now, and I didn't want to be drunk anywhere near her. Or be sober near her right then, for that matter. She'd probably never shut up about how awesome it was that Rusty Thresher won his fourth round in the Pit...

Instead, we were told to report back to the barracks where we'd get our orders for the rest of the day. I was last in the line of griffons meandering back to base, and by the time I flopped down behind Ida, Serge was already handing out assignments.

“Okay, the lieutenant didn't give me new orders, so we're going to just resume our stand-in patrols. Lita, you're with me at the west wall again. Ike, you're at the crater perimeter with first squad. Ida, you're at the Fun Farm perimeter with fourth. Leigh and Kaz, you're at the main gate again with fifth.” The blue feathered griffon raised an eyebrow at me. “If you're able?”

“I have a choice?” I croaked, honestly surprised.

“We're supplementing existing patrols, which I don't think is strictly necessary under the circumstances. I can send you to the clinic for the afternoon if you'd prefer.”

Leigh shrugged. “Yeah, don't sweat it. We'll be fine at the gate.”

“Uh... yeah. Okay, yeah, I'd rather work there.” At least no slaves would be nearby. I'd be happy to put someone's hand back together again rather than look at any of them right now.

Serge wrenched the barracks door open and said, “Alright then, you've all got your orders. We've got thirty minutes before we have to be where we're assigned.”

Great. What was I supposed to do for thirty minutes? Nothing. I just slumped against the old train car and watched the rest of my squad shuffle inside amidst Lita expressing her astonishment that Heidi didn't have us flying around some pointless part of the city instead of... flying around multiple pointless parts of the city. I could just sit there a minute and try to get my mind off of The Pit. At least I wasn't nauseated anymore, which was good because Yvonne had already complained three times that we barely had a pharmacy. Odds were vanishingly small we had any drugs for nausea.

Ida paused at the door when she noticed I hadn't moved. Oh boy, conversation time. Now wasn't a great time, Ida. She didn't get the hint, of course. “Kaz... I'm sorry.”

“You didn't do anything.”

She turned and drifted my way. “I could have prepared you better. I... didn't realize how bad you'd take it.”

Oh, really? I met eyes with her. “You knew, didn't you? About Glitter Dust?”

“No. It's happened before, but I didn't really think they'd-”

I looked away toward the mined embankment surrounding the base. “It's happened before. That's... that's justice here, isn't it? Just whatever the slavers say, goes. She'd have been better off if I shot her. I-I don't even want to think about it. I'm positive I don't want to know what else has happened...” Some very horrible images of exploitation came to mind. And why wouldn't the slavers run amok? What incentive did they have not to?

Ida circled and sat in front of me. “Then don't think about it. We do what we can, but most of this is beyond our control.” She frowned and added in a soft tone, “You'll drive yourself crazy.”

“Is that how you deal with it?” I asked honestly. “Because I don't think I can do this, Ida. Not anymore.”

She took a deep breath. “Partly. It... gets easier with time, like anything. I know that sounds terrible, but you have to understand that it's not all bad here. You have to focus on what Red Eye's done-”

“Yeah, about that,” I spat, sitting up. “I thought that too for a little while. You know, I thought that maybe there really was such a thing as necessary evil. But you know what? Today I learned that all of this is just a joke.” I waved a hand across the city peeking over the high mounds of dirt. “Red Eye's not doing this to remake Equestria. Did you see him today? That organized bloodbath was there for his sadistic enjoyment! That psychotic son-of-a-”

Ida snatched me by the beak and whipped her head around with wide eyes. Finally, she looked back and whispered to me, “Kaz, you can't say stuff like that! If someone heard you, it could get back to the captain. She could have you shot.”

Okay. First of all... the next person to grab my beak like that was getting bitten. Second...

I don't know, really. I just... sank in on myself when she released me. That was it. Right there. She told me everything she had to. Red Eye had everything under his hoof. The slaves were his play things, to be worked to death to build up an empire for him that nobody could challenge. The slavers were along for a slice of the pie, extorting whatever little bits of fun they could out of those hapless souls before they died in misery. And the Talons? We were just paid to shut up and do what we were told. Anyone who disagreed learned quickly to go along with it or be made an example of. Nobody would ever challenge Red Eye.

Pus-spewing bleeding pinfeathers from Hell... what had I gotten myself into?

Ida fixed me with a sad look. “Kaz... it's... I know it's bad, but you've got to choose your battles. This is one we just can't win.”

“I understand,” I mumbled. I understood all too well. We were slaves of a different color, but still slaves. I just had to play the good little soldier until someone finally pushed me too far, then they'd shoot me and throw my body in a furnace to be forgotten. I understood entirely. Suddenly, I was wishing again we had anti nausea medication somewhere.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, because she had to at that point. She knew the answer, and knew I wasn't going to tell the truth.

“Fine.” I grabbed my rifle, because I had to be a good soldier and listen to what Heidi told me before about leaving the base armed, and pulled myself up. “I should go.”

I left without another word or look back. I just had to let it all go. Somehow, impossibly, I just had to do as little bad as I could get away with, and live with that. At least at the clinic I could try to do something, anything, constructive.

...and pray that it wouldn't come back to haunt me weeks later.

Gain Experience – You gain 2,000 experience points for following orders and honing your skills. Even if you aren't happy about it.