“Hey Crafter, you never did tell us… how was life in the Stable?”

“‘Tell you?’ There’s so much, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well… what if you wrote it out, like a journal or something?”

“I guess it can’t hurt to try. Maybe… maybe it’ll help. Got anything to write on?”

“Well, here’s this old notebook of mine. I don’t think I wrote anything too dangerous in it, so you should be fine. We’ll give you some time, ‘kay? Tail and I will be in the other room if you want to talk about it.”

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

… … …

Where the heck do I start?

Well, if I’m going to do this, I suppose I’ll have to let them — or, you, I should say — know how my Stable functioned in the first place.

I don’t know how the other Stables worked, but mine was always very by-the-book. We obeyed rules, protocols, work schedules, designated rest times… It was a communal effort to keep our little piece of civilization alive. To that end, our lives were governed by the six pillars of our society — the Departments, with each having an equal parts vote on the major issues of the Stable.

From early foalhood, the Education Department taught us right from wrong, and started identifying our strengths and weaknesses. Once we were old enough to take the C.A.T. (Cutie-mark Aptitude Test), we were assigned a Department to “Nurture the perpetuation of the Stable,” as the Overmare once put it.

Ponies with an aptitude towards teaching and caring for foals were generally sent right back to the Education department — as prospective teachers, this time. Those with kind hearts and a knack for encouraging plants to grow were typically assigned to the Agriculture department. Strict, physically capable and mature ponies were usually sent towards Security — not a department to be crossed lightly, they enforced Stable law and assigned punishment as needed. Occasionally — and it had only happened once in recent memory — a particularly apt pony (Despite the title, it could be a mare or a stallion) would be selected for grooming into the Overmare’s replacement, in due time.

That left two Departments.

As it was explained to me, the Judicariat was the Department responsible for the “Defense of the Stable and its occupants.” They were the ferociously armoured ponies who solved any dispute Security was unable to, and they did so with uncompromising efficiency. In all my years, I had never seen a pony actually selected to replace a Judicare.

With that in mind, if a pony hadn’t been chosen for any of the others, they were pretty much destined to be assigned to the Engineering Department.

My department.

I awoke as I always had, to the flamboyant tones of a mare I’ve been told once ran one of the six most powerful institutions of wartime Equestria. Those were dark, violent times... but every time I heard her, she seemed perfectly happy. Despite the fact that her voice meant that I had to get up, I was always just a little happier for hearing it.

Still, I was glad I’d found a way to turn off the song that played along with the “alarm.” That was just too much, in my opinion. Surely nopony needed that much reminding to smile, did they?

Swatting the pipbuck on my hoof with a motion practiced by long years of experience, I silenced the voice of the most happy person I knew — and she’d been dead for almost two hundred years. Fully awake, I glanced around my sparsely furnished room.

It was a spartan affair, now that I have things to compare it to. Small, under-illuminated by long suffering spark bulbs set into the ceiling. A bed, sink, dresser, bed stand and a solitary chair adorned the space. I couldn’t really complain — It wasn’t like I was married, and my job wasn’t the most glamorous in the stable, so I pretty much had to be content with what I had.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the ponies whose bedrooms didn’t have to double as vanity rooms.

The few things I actually owned were laid out neatly on the dresser — a set of Stable utility barding, the same as everypony else’s, except for all the extra pockets; and a small toolbox with my name stenciled on the side, where I’d painted over the name of its previous owner.

As was the normal routine, I crawled out of bed, splashed some water over my face, grabbed my toolbox and pulled on my stable barding with a quick flare of telekinetic magic. Right as I was turning to leave, I heard a knock at the door.

“Crafty! You up yet?” A feminine voice called from the other side of the heavy door, “I’m heading to the chow hall and figured you would want to come along.”

Instead of yelling, I calmly pushed the button to open the door, causing it to slide up into the roof with a gentle swoosh of displaced air and well-oiled machinery.

Before me stood one of my very few friends in the Stable, a mare with a vibrant red mane tied up to keep it out of her eyes as she worked. I’d always thought it accented by her yellow coat quite well, and was probably why her parents had named her “Haywire.” She wore a bored expression until she heard the door slide up into the ceiling, a smile blooming despite the yawn she failed to stifle entirely.

“Sure,” I replied, “I was just about to head on out anyways.”

“That’s the spirit,” She said, “Let's go see if they’ve found any new ways of making something as simple as reprocessed food any more inedible!”

The meal line was as short as it always was this early in the day. Not many ponies had reasons to be up as early as we did in the Maintenance sector… well, other than Security — I could see the Officer Handout quietly sipping coffee as he paged through what I assumed was either a book, or some sort of work log he’d loaded onto his pipbuck. His black mane, white coat, and security barding stood out against the grey of the cafeteria walls. He didn’t really talk much, but he looked up as Haywire and I entered, giving a polite nod before returning to reading.

Seeing him being about as taciturn as he usually was, we moved on to grab a tray each and head past the line. Those trays soon were filled by Mealcard, the aging mare on the other side of the food counter. “Hay fries,” I commented, “Just what I was hoping for. Thanks again!”

She fixed me with what could almost be called a glare, except for the obvious lack of emotional investment. “Don’t mention it,” She replied, just as she always did. It was always hay fries, after all... but it isn’t like that was her fault. Was it?

To supplement the tasteless latticework of fibre adorning my tray, I grabbed one — and only one, or Mealcard would surely have yelled at me — of the fresh, red-skinned apples, from what must have been the Agriculture section’s newest crop. I was looking forwards to seeing how they’d done.

Weaving our way through rows of empty seats, Haywire and I found our way to our usual spot, not too far from the entrance. Just as usual, the instant we sat down Haywire immediately tried to find something more interesting than the food in front of her. “So, did you hear?” She asked, sounding very excited, but talking in a hushed voice.

“Hear what?” I replied over a mouthful of reprocessed food.

She leaned in close, like something was a secret. I had to glance around the room, frowning. She seemed to be trying to be inconspicuous in an otherwise empty meal hall, aside from the cook and two stallions whom I’d never taken the time to get to know, seated just out of earshot. Well, and Officer Handout off in the corner, still sipping at his coffee. Still, I humoured her and leaned in as she spoke.

“I heard they've done the census.”

I stifled a surprised noise, glad that the meal hall was as empty as it was. It was getting to be that time of year, wasn’t it? I’d kind of lost track since the last time. “Already?” I asked, realization slowly dawning that there were more important questions to be asked. “Are we over?” I almost hissed, eyes wide.

She nodded slowly, “510, from what I heard.”

That wasn’t good. The Stable could only support 500 ponies at a time — the Overseers told us so. Much as we tried to keep to that number as much as possible… accidents happened. Foals were the future of our stable, and we weren’t about to limit our future. So, every year if we’re over the population limit… well, we had to send ponies away. To scout the surface, as our department heads informed us.

I hadn’t heard of any of those sent out returning to the Stable.

Picking up the apple from my tray, I bit into it, hoping it would buoy my spirits a bit. This time of year was a trying one, but we’d always got through it by doing our jobs and avoiding being the focus of attention. This year would be like any other, if we had anything to say about it. Keep quiet, do your job, don’t get noticed, just like always.

Despite how delicious it tasted, the apple really didn’t help any. For some reason, I just couldn’t shake that number from my mind.

510.

Ten of us would leave, and soon. There was some comfort that the ponies chosen to go were at least voted on by the committee, but... the thought did nothing for my appetite.

Returning the apple to my plate with only a single bite out of it, I pushed it away from me.

Haywire nodded. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Lets get to work, hey? Take our minds off things. Castle’s taking the day off, so there’s a bit more to be done.”

Together we stood, deposited our trays and made to leave. Or tried to, anyways.

As we were leaving, another pair of ponies were entering. Wingnut and Boltcutter. The dreadful duo, as Haywire had once called them. The larger of the two, Wingnut was something of the brains of their operation, while Boltcutter was… well, he was the second of them, anyways. Two of the other members of our Engineering shift, and the ones most likely to cause trouble. I glanced at the clock: fifteen minutes til our shift started. They weren’t fast eaters.

“You’ve got the East wing today, you two,” Haywire remarked, “Please be on time. It’s that time of year again, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wingnut replied, “I know what that means.” As they passed by, I just barely heard him add, “Bitch.”

I felt anger rise at the slight, but Haywire shot me a look that told me she didn’t want to make anything of it. “Don’t,” she said through gritted teeth, “If there’s any sort of right in this Stable, maybe we won’t have to deal with them for much longer.”

As grim as the thought was, I couldn’t help but agree.

It would be for the best.

The “work” Haywire had alluded to, is exactly what led to me crawling through a ventilation duct near the agriculture wing a few hours later. We’d already fixed the lighting in one of the residential hubs of the Stable, as well as one of the food reprocessors that had been on the fritz and helped the elderly miss Crumpets connect her terminal to the Stable network. Again. The day was coming to a close, and one of our few remaining tasks for the day was restoring proper circulation to this corner of the Stable, after it had shorted out the other day. Exciting stuff, I know, but… it’s how my life was, back then.

Things like that happened a lot. It was part of why the maintenance department had three shifts, while most others got by with two during the “day.” Or even one, in the case of the Overmare. Security and Maintenance were the only twenty-four hour rotational sectors in the stable… with the possible addition of the Judicariat. Those ponies scared me, even then, and I wasn’t about to try and ask how exactly they functioned. For that matter, I’d never actually seen more than three of them at any one time. Maybe they were just always on, running on spark batteries or something?

At any rate, even thinking of them sent chills up my spine. Better to get back to work, and put an end to the long day. Thankfully, the task at hoof was complicated enough to quickly distract myself with. My pipbuck beeped at me, informing me I’d shimmied far enough to be near the junction I’d need to work on.

“In position, Haywire,” I called out to her, somewhere below me and standing by a terminal that controlled the whole wing’s ventilation systems. “Make sure it’s all shut down please, I’m about to go in.”

“Done!” I heard her call back from below, simultaneous with the gentle sound of fans running quietly to a halt throughout the ducting I was working on. Not the one nearest me, naturally — it wasn’t working in the first place. But the silence of the others told me that this one wouldn’t start up the instant I got it working again.

Shuffling forward a few inches more, I lit my horn and cast one of my more useful spells for the task at hoof — I liked to call it a “flare,” but Haywire always said it looked more like a lightbulb. Regardless, I could project the little, heatless ball of magic some ways away, and it would light up areas for me to work on. Pipes, vent shafts, all manner of things. I’d gotten pretty good at it, over the years.

I projected the flare off to the side, against one of the walls and out of my field of view; but still close enough to light up the junction in question. As the harsh, white light illuminated the area in flickering rays, the problem was quite clear to see. A nut must have loosened itself off over the many years it had been in place, and one of the fan blades had fallen off. That, in turn, proceeded to jam the others in place, stopping the fan.

A simple enough matter. I levitated my wrench out of its spot on my barding and out in front of me. It was a solid thing, bare metal and flaking red paint, with a rubberized black mouth piece that I had never truly needed to use. Despite its age, it had served me well. Without fanfare, I used it to carefully bludgeon the offending fan blade out of the way before inspecting the damage it had caused. Mostly superficial, there were a few long scratches on the blade’s shaft. Nothing preventing me from simply re-attaching it where it had previously been mounted, at least.

So that’s what I did. Simple problem, simple solution. A new nut, a reattached fan blade, and a tightening of the other nuts on the fan assembly (“Why wait for problems to happen? Be proactive!” as the posters throughout the Stable were wont to remind me), all-in-all a few minutes later I was done. I uttered a soft “Nice!” mostly to myself.

It kind of figured that that was the moment my victorious cheer was accompanied by the dull shriek of tortured metal. Of all the vent screws I’d tightened, the ones that chose to give out right then were the ones securing my section of vent to the roof.

Figures, doesn’t it?

With a completely justified cry of terror, the bottom of the vent gave out on me, and I fell head first towards the Stable corridor floor two meters below. I saw my all-too-brief life flash by my eyes. No! It couldn’t end this way!

Abruptly, my fall ceased. The vent panel continued, crashing to a halt on the floor below me.

Surrounding me was the gentle aura of Haywire’s magic, tingling upon my coat. The mare herself still stood off to the side, away from where the panel had fallen. She was trying, and failing, to hide a smile.

“Crafter,” She said, “Why does this shit always seem to happen to you? I swear, you’ve got the worst luck of any pony I’ve ever met.”

“Well…” I replied, trying to think of a comeback. “You caught me, didn’t you? I’d say that’s pretty good luck, wouldn’t you?”

She didn’t even bother to hide the laughter, losing her concentration for a second, causing me to drop the last meter or so to the Stable floor, completely unharmed. Once she’d recovered, she commented, “If that’s how you want to see it, that’s fine by me.” Turning to the terminal she’d stepped away from to, as it were, save my tail, she simply pressed a single button.

We could both hear the sound of the vent system starting up again, including the fan I’d just been working on. “Well,” Haywire added, “At least you don’t have to go back up there.” She levitated the fallen panel back to its previous position, sliding a pair of welding goggles down over her eyes. “This’ll only take a sec, but you’ll want to look away, Crafty.”

I did as instructed, hearing her lift the panel back into place and magically tack-welding the corners back into place. If any more panels were to fall off the ceiling, that would be the last one to do so after she was done with it.

When the welding flashes had ended, I glanced back. Haywire raised the goggles and flashed me a grin as she said, “Well, that’s just about it for today. Why don’t we swing by the agriculture wing. You know, see how they’re doing over there, what with their shift starting and all?”

“Could we?” I asked, just a bit too enthusiastically. Hastily backtracking, I looked away from her. “I mean, um, if there isn’t anything else we need to do...”

She chuckled at that, but shook her head. “We made good time today. I think we can spare some to go say ‘hi.’” With a smile, she added, “I’m sure Spring will be there, too.”

I certainly wasn’t about to argue with that logic. Even the chance of getting to see Spring Breeze would have been enough to convince me, and soon enough we were packed up and headed through the maze of Stable corridors towards the atrium.

Haywire was right, as it turned out.

The instant we entered the agricultural wing of the Stable, the unmistakeable smell of foliage — of grass, of trees — greeted us. The door to the atrium itself swooshed open as it detected us, and we were greeted with a stellar sight. More beautiful than the rows of healthy, full apple trees was the mare who was tending them.

Her pale green coat was accented by her straw-coloured mane, long and flowing. Her bright blue eyes were focused on the task at hoof — getting tools and seeds and such together to begin a long shift of encouraging things to grow, to live, to bear fruit... just the seeds that were the marks on her flank suggested. The pipbuck adorning her foreleg and the Stable barding she wore seemed out of sorts with how she lived her life. Like they were blemishes on the sheer amount of nature that seemed to infuse the room.

Stepping past me, Haywire was the first to actually enter the lab, calling out a “Good morning, Spring!” to the mare in the trees.

She turned, initially surprised at being addressed. Her eyes lit up when she realized who it was, however. “Haywire, Crafter,” She nodded at me, holding my gaze before looking back at Haywire. “Good morning to you both. It’s been too long, how have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Haywire replied easily, “Long days, but Crafter here managed to put us a little bit ahead of schedule so we figured we’d check and make sure everything was okay around here.”

I nodded, wearing a big smile at the praise. “Oh, you don’t have to say that. It was both of us, after all.”

Spring laughed, the clear noise easily breaking through the drudgery of the day. “And still so humble,” She replied, flashing her eyelashes in my direction. “I can see why you keep him close.”

“Yeah,” Haywire replied wistfully. “Oh!” She seemed to catch herself, quickly checking back over her utility belt. “I think I left something back there. Crafter, see what you can do to give Spring a helping hoof, I’ll be right back.” Everything seemed to be in order, but I supposed I had been a little out of it after she’d brought up the prospect of saying “Hi” to Spring.

Some sort of understanding seemed to pass between the mares, but I couldn’t really make heads nor tails of it. At any rate, Haywire turned and left the way she’d come, leaving the two of us alone with the quiet whoosh of the automated door behind her.

“Well,” Spring said as soon as we were alone, “Shall we?” She asked, making very direct eye contact with me once again.

“Um, yes!” I stammered out, “I’d love to help!”

I’d helped in the atrium before, so as per the norm, I went over to a nearby terminal while Spring continued laying out and preparing her tools for the day. For my part, the watering cycles needed to be checked daily, and I knew that having a pony to help make sure nothing was out of the ordinary there would save Spring some time. A few quiet minutes passed, as we were each distracted with our own jobs.

Spring finished before me, and started her routine of setting up a series of faucets over the plants they were intended to water. I almost missed her call out to me, except that she started with “Oh, Crafter.” It took me a second to properly get my thoughts in order, and realize that the rest of her sentence had been “I’ve got a drip-faucet that just doesn’t seem to work here. Would you mind taking a look at it?”

Her voice was so innocent, my mind almost left me behind for a bit. Thankfully, I recovered before she noticed, heading over as I replied, “Sure thing, I’ve pretty much finished over here anyways.”

I settled in beside her — not close enough to touch, but still close enough to work on the tiny little mechanism she was working with. Upon inspection (of the faucet), the problem seemed to be a small pebble lodged in the hose, too small for an earth pony hoof to manipulate out.

Handily, I used my telekinesis to remove the pebble, ensuring there wasn’t anything else lodged in behind. “There,” I stated, “That should do it.” I gave her a friendly smile and levitated the delicate assembly back to her.

She tossed the pebble away, not breaking eye contact. “Thank you Crafter, that would have been a terrible bother if you hadn’t been happening by here when you were,” as she sidled past me, her tail brushed against my flank. She kept walking, clearly not noticing the contact, so absorbed was she in her task. Oblivious, she stood on her hind legs to fill the faucet’s reservoir and return it to its proper place.

I tried not to stare, I really did… But my eyes kind of had a mind of their own.

It figured that Haywire would find that time to return. I was surprised as her voice pulled me out of my stupor. “Why hello you two. Have a nice chat?” she asked, more than a hint of amusement flavouring her tone. I hurriedly glanced away from Spring, only to see Haywire break out into a wide grin.

I fumbled around, turning towards her in response, “Oh! Uh, Haywire, uh what’s… um… what’s up?” I glanced around, unsure if she’d noticed. “You find your, erm, wrench, was it?”

Spring finished what she was doing before returning to all fours and replying more properly than I had, “Crafter was just helping me get one of the faucets working again. Must be nice to have such a hard working stallion as part of your crew.” She was talking to Haywire, but she was looking straight at me as she said it.

I let out a heartfelt sigh. She hadn’t noticed, after all. “It was really no problem…”

“It is nice,” Haywire replied, though her face darkened as her words brought up another unpleasantly relevant topic. “Especially when the rest of your shift is always ‘calling in sick.’” She walked up to the two of us, glancing over at me as she did. “And yeah, found ‘er lying around at the last junction.” She levitated a wrench into the air, spinning it dramatically before returning it to her barding.

I couldn’t be certain, but I could have sworn I’d seen that wrench in the exact same place when she’d left… had she forgotten where she stored it? I decided not to bring it up.

“Well, good. That’s… good, then.” I stood awkwardly for a few seconds more. “I guess we should be off.” I shot a smile towards Spring and motioned to Haywire.

Haywire suppressed another yawn, saying, “Aye, time to clock out.” As she walked between Spring and myself, I couldn’t help but notice a subtle nod pass between the two mares. Odd.

“Well, I daresay I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,” Spring commented, waving a hoof as we turned to depart. “Good night, you two.”

Waving back, I replied, “Yeah, you too Spring!” I was looking back, trying to get one last glimpse of her before we headed off.

True to form, it was at that point that somepony decided to put a wall right where I was walking.

Spring hid her mouth with a hoof, chuckling lightly as she realized I wasn’t really hurt. The way I figured it, I’d gotten her to laugh. It was worth the pain in my face.

Hastily making a more dignified exit, I followed Haywire into the hallway leading away from the atrium (rather than the atrium wall, this time). Spring Breeze returned to her work, a smile lingering until I lost sight of her.

Haywire waited until the atrium door had shut behind us before collapsing into helpless, full body laughter. In between gasps of air and giggles, she managed to spit out, “Crafter, you know you’re hopeless, right?”

Glaring back at her, I tried giving it all I had to hide my embarrassment, to no avail. “You… you be quiet. You’d have the same trouble if you were in my spot.”

“Well if a mare like Spring Breeze let me be in the spot you were in when I walked in, I dare say I’d have trouble too!” She finally finished laughing, brushing a few errant tears from her eyes.

The moment was lost entirely when a hoofball slammed into my still sore face.

The mad howling of (unfortunately) all too familiar laughter tipped me off as to the whereabouts of our two co-workers. I ran a hoof over my sore face. Damn it, hadn’t it been a long enough day? I cast a glance over at the two of them: I was pissed, but this wasn’t at all the time of year to be caught causing trouble. True to form, that never seemed to affect their particular brand of stupidity, however.

“Hey Wingnut... Boltcutter.” I nodded to each of them, in turn. “It’d be nice if either of you would show up for a shift every once in awhile.” I tossed the hoofball back towards them casually, trying not to overreact too much. With luck, they’d be gone soon.

Wingnut stepped up and caught the ball with his magic. “Ha! Why would we when we’ve got such a ‘nice, hardworking stallion’ such as yourself to do it for us?” he mocked, his voice edged with a surprising amount of cruelty. “Besides, little miss Spring Breeze might get lonely if she finished the atrium before you got there. That would be just fucking terrible, wouldn’t it?”

Boltcutter stepped in where his partner in crime left off, “It would, boss!” He grinned through a smile missing a few teeth.

“What, you got nothing witty to say, Bolts?” I taunted. Probably not the best idea, but these guys had been poking at my… thing for Spring Breeze for years, and it got under my skin all too easily. “Can’t speak for yourself? Too stupid to think of anything? Why don’t you and your fuck buddy mosey on outta here and do whatever it is you do.” I was trying to avoid the fact that I didn’t really have much of a counterargument.

Luckily, Haywire proved to have a slightly calmer head than my own as she stepped in to back me up, a serious edge to her voice. “No need for that, you two. Just show up every now and then, at least. No need to start drawing attention to our crew so soon after the census was taken, now is there?”

510.

The number popped into my head, like a bad dream I almost forgot I’d had.

With that in mind, I felt almost ashamed of my outburst. Somewhat abashed, I added, “Look, she makes a good point. You can continue your bullshit afterwards, now’s not the time.”

Wingnut seemed to consider that for a moment, before retorting with, “We both know Socket wants his department to stay on the down low. He wouldn’t risk putting himself in the council’s sights, our entire department already does fuck all!” He actually spat on the ground, before turning to leave. In his wake, Boltcutter collected the ball and turned back to me, right as he was rounding the corner. He made a gesture with his forehoof in an “I’m watching you” sort of movement, before following his crony around the corner.

It would have been comical, had that number not been stuck in my head.

510.

“Idiots,” I muttered under my breath.

“Those two will be the death of this shift,” Haywire grumbled, half serious. “Whatever. Come on, let’s have a drink at my place before calling it a night.”

I must have acknowledged her or something, because that’s what we went and did… but the whole time, all I could think of was that damned number. I swear it really did stick with me through my dreams that night.

510.

The next day began like every day before it. The same singing pink mare, the same sheets, the same cold floor as I rolled out of bed, swatting the mute button on my foreleg as I did.

Like I’d done hundreds of times before, I murmured, “Gotta find a way to change that alarm,” to no one in particular.

I washed, dressed, and was at the door when Haywire called for me.

Just like the day before.

“Hey Crafty. You’re up already, aren’t you?” Her voice came from the other side of the door.

Instead of answering through a block of steel, I opened it and replied, “Yeah, ‘course I am. Who in their right mind could sleep through that pink pony’s prancing?” I gave her a smile, “It’s almost like they did it on purpose…”

She returned the smile, but I could tell the events of yesterday were weighing on her. The way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, the tired slump of her shoulders… we’d been friends long enough for me to pick up on things like that.

“Hey,” She said, bringing my eyes back to hers. “Let’s see if they’ve got any new ways of making reprocessed hay chips seem edible.”

I nodded, “Yeah, by now I’m sure they can figure some way to do it.”

So we went. Got our food from Mealcard, like any other day, and sat in the same spots we usually sat in — you guessed it, like any other day. Foiling our hopes, the hay chips were just as bland as they’d always been. The apples, however, were still quite good. I couldn’t help but think of Spring, and that sprinkler I’d helped unblock… it felt good to help.

And just like any other day, those two stallions I never really knew sat just within earshot. I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation… and once I heard what it was about, I really started to listen in.

“Hey, did you hear?” One of them asked, “Four names out already.”

“Really?” The other replied excitedly, “That’s fast, who is it?”

I saw Haywire’s ears perk up. I know mine did too. I felt my pulse increase, too.

Names out already? That could only mean the council had their eyes on some ponies for a while now.

The first buck lowered his voice, but was still audible to both of us. “Beto Chavez, High Stakes, Wingnut and Boltcutter.”

I leaned forwards, partial distress on my face… mixed with, if I’m honest, a bit of satisfaction towards what those two had coming to them. “There’s still six more. What if they’re lookin’ at our shift?” I asked Haywire, quietly but urgently.

She seemed to relax just a little. “I think we’re safe. They don’t like taking too many from any one shift without good reason — too many rookies running around in a shift means there’s a higher chance of problems, and we’ve already got Castle to watch… seems like he’ll do alright though… not sure about Wingnut and Boltcutter’s replacements.”

I let out a pent-up breath, feeling a little ashamed for the fact that I felt not an ounce of sorrow for the imminent departures. “Well I just hope you’re right. I guess I’ll feel better when it’s all over and done with… again.” I continued to pick at my food til we were almost out of time. My stomach just wasn’t up to eating, at the time.

Haywire seemed to have the same problem. She finished her fruit, but left the hay fries be.

We were out well before our shift would have had to start.

I just wanted that day to be over.

The day progressed like so many before it. Regular maintenance, replacing the odd pipe seal, nothing that would even remotely count as an “incident”... right until near the end of our shift.

That was when I heard a young voice yelling from down the hallway. “Haywire! Crafter!” As we turned, we saw the clearly frightened form of Castle round the corner, almost tripping over his own hooves as he saw us.

“What?” I called out, “What is it?!”

I felt a tightness in my chest.

Not today! Not today, of all days!

He came to a halt before us, gasping for breath. “Its Wingnut and Boltcutter, they’re in the atrium! I heard Spring scream, that’s when I came looking for you. I d- I didn’t know what to do!” He seemed frightened almost out of his mind, almost hysterical.

I barely took a second to share a glance and a nod with Haywire, before I was off, making towards the atrium at a gallop. Castle tried to match our speed, but he was already tired from the run, and I guess he must have lagged behind.

I was the first to burst through the door to the atrium.

Spring Breeze was lying against one of her beloved apple trees, clutching her middle. Wingnut stood over her with a cruel grin upon his face. Levitating a baseball bat off to one side was Boltcutter. There was fresh blood staining the bat.

Her blood.

I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t want to, for that matter. I charged straight at Boltcutter, trying to distract him enough for me to get to Wingnut. They must not have expected it, because I managed to barrel over Boltcutter and spook Wingnut into jumping back, away from Spring’s motionless form.

Managing to catch himself after the hasty jump, Wingnut called out, “This is what you get for ratting us out, Crafter!”

As my attention was divided, Boltcutter took the chance to hit me in the side of the head with the bat. I staggered and my vision swam, but I managed to keep on my hooves as I called back, “No one ratted you out!”

Concentrating, I visualized the bat in my mind, focusing my magic on briefly overpowering Boltcutter’s own hold on the improvised weapon. All it really did was rotate around the point Boltcutter was holding it at, but it was enough to swing back into his head with enough force to break his telekinetic hold on the bat.

As soon as he lost control, I lunged towards Wingnut, trying to catch him just as equally off-guard as his partner. Unfortunately, he’d always been the more intelligent one. He was ready for it, and grabbed the bat in his own magical field, a sort of magical tug-of-war beginning between his own dark grey magical aura and my own.

“Bullshit!” He yelled, “The council drew our names less than a day after we talked to you! They never draw them that fucking fast!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spring still slumped under the tree, weeping into her hooves.

Haywire was nowhere to be seen.

I wasn’t playing around any more. Dropping my hold on the bat entirely, Wingnut’s magical grip overbalanced, spinning the weapon off to the side. Grabbing the first thing I could think of, I magically pulled my trusty wrench forwards, swinging it in a vicious arc. Down it came, right across his horn.

He reared back, dropping the bat with a cry of pain.

I saw an opening, and jabbed with the end of the wrench, straight for his face. It caught him in the eye, sending him to the floor with an eye beginning to swell shut. The thought that it would bruise up spectacularly did nothing to abate my anger.

Leaving Wingnut to thrash against the ground, I went to retrieve the bat. Boltcutter was recovering from the earlier swing, and I needed to protect both Spring and myself from anything he might try and pull.

It was all for naught.

In that instant, the hydraulic hiss of the lab door opening met our ears. Standing in it, almost too big for the entrance, was the hulking form of one of the Judicares. Armoured horn to hoof in stylized, sweeping metallic gold armour and holding aloft a massive, enchanted glaive in his magic, he affixed his helmeted stare upon the room. The dark slots in his helm slowly swept across the room, assessing.

Despite the appearance of one of the most fearsome ponies in the Stable… I guess it just didn’t click right away — Spring was hurt, and she needed help. I dropped the bat, and sprinted to her side. “Spring!” I called out, “Are you alright?!”

I swear, the only other sound in the room was Wingnut’s mewls of pain.

Spring didn’t seem to realize it was even me talking to her, she just kept weeping, her delicate, injured body wracked by sobs.

“Spring? Spring! It’s alright, you’re safe now. A Judicare’s here. We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

After hearing a bit more of my voice, she seemed to calm down a bit, turning to me. Blood ran freely from a gash on her forehead. “C-Crafter? *hic* Crafter, why’d they do this?” She sobbed, throwing her forehooves around me and clinging on as though she’d never let go.

I put a forehoof around her, staying steady as she cried into my shoulder. The first of a series of vicious bruises were already beginning to form beneath her faultless coat.

“I just… I don’t…” I couldn’t find the words to say. Feeling miserable, I glanced over towards the Judicare’s unwavering gaze, completely unsure what he planned to do.

The Judicare simply stood there. Impassive. Cold. Judgemental.

Long seconds ticked by before, finally, he spoke. In a low but very strong, magically amplified voice he stated one word. A command, as much as anything, from a pony used to being obeyed when he spoke — with good reason.

“Come.”

I looked down at Spring, still shaking as she held me. “Sh-she needs h-help…”

The room remained tense for a number of seconds before he spoke again, in the same even tone.

“Now.”

“She shouldn’t walk, I can’t just leave her!” I responded, absolutely terrified.

The Judicare turned his head slowly to regard me fully, looking me in the eye with a hard gaze.

“Bring her.”

With my aid, Spring managed to stand with me carrying most of her weight. It wasn’t easy, but the two of us managed to move, at least. Leading us off, the Judicare turned and slowly walked down the adjacent corridor, wordlessly commanding all to follow after him.

In the hall I saw Security Officer Handout and Haywire. Both were white as ghosts, terrified of the pony they’d probably summoned with intent to help.

“We’ll be alright…” I said to Haywire as we passed.

She nodded a wordless reply, still staring at the retreating form of the Judicare as she fell in behind us, along with Officer Handout, who joined without a word. I’d never seen her so scared.

The procession of ponies trotted quietly down the halls, with Wingnut and Boltcutter taking up the rear. We finally stopped when we reached a room that was, normally, strictly off-limits. The Judicare opened the door with a flare of magic upon a terminal nestled into the wall beside it, and gestured for us to enter. The glaive hovered, menacingly. I think we all felt a sense of dread. We were being herded in there, and there was nothing we could do.

I took the first steps. As much as it felt like my hooves were dragging through muck, how every part of me screamed not to enter that door… the only other option was to test the patience of a Judicare.

I walked, entering the dark room with Spring at my side.

When my eyes adjusted, I found myself in a bare steel room — exposed ducting ran along the ceiling, exposed pipes ran along the walls. A solitary terminal sat off to one side, and set against the far wall was the centrepiece of the room: a great steel cog bearing the numbers “247.”

“What… what’s going on?” I tentatively asked.

The Judicare stopped, and turned around. He said nothing, just turning to sweep his helmeted gaze across our assembled gathering of ponies. A deep, raspy voice emanated from behind us, “I think you know...”

We turned to be greeted by the scarred and burned face of Gold Card, wearing the distinctive Judicare armour, minus the helmet. He was flanked by the one remaining Judicare in the stable. He looked at us, anger practically seeping from what was left of his features.

“You mean... No- no, you can’t! We didn’t do anything! Please, I was just trying to stop them from hurting Spring!” Tears welled in my eyes, all common sense out the door (an unfortunate metaphor, I’m aware), as I trotted right up to the imposing Judicare, attempting to get an audience.

The Judicare in front — the one that had led us here, and said nothing since — lowered his glaive in the blink of an eye, its point stopping bare millimeters from my neck. Needless to say, I stopped in my tracks.

Gold Card let out a dry chuckle, “Child, you just made it easy for us. Why try and deal with this when we can just throw out the trash, as it were.” His glare hardened. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“No, don’t!” I cried, “Please, I beg you! At least let Spring stay! She didn’t do anything!”

Haywire piped up, gaining confidence from my own defiance, “We were trying to help the Stable! You can’t very well help the Stable if you remove everyone involved!”

Gold Card replied, that same even tone, “She’s now a burden, a crying voice. Best to silence the babe.” He gave out a barking laugh, cold and humourless. “As noble as your intentions may be, all you would do now is make others notice. Bring to light things they don’t wish to think about. Your departure will keep them docile.”

The loud grinding of the Stable door began behind us as its ancient mechanisms began to open. I hadn’t heard the sound before, never having been present for other “departure ceremonies,” but I’ll never forget the sound.

Stuck in unmatched horror, the grinding shocked my senses, I gazed at Gold Card, disbelieving. The glaive at my neck didn’t flinch. “This is a dream. A terrible dream…” I muttered to myself, almost in a daze.

“Such a wonderful dream, a peaceful utopia…” His scarred grin mocked our plight.

I knew I would get no more from him. I turned slowly around, keeping my gaze down to the ground as I listened to the door continue to open.

The cog-like door’s slow advance ground forward, every inch seeming to take forever. All at once, it rolled over, sucking air from the outside as the atmospheric seal of the Stable was broken. A most terrible cold washed over us, stripping what warmth we had.

“We have no chance out there! It’s f-freezing!” I stared straight at the door, awaiting what it looks like out there. I could make out a room beyond, perhaps the Stable was built into some old building?

My eyes continued to adjust, and I almost wished they hadn’t. Beyond the door lay the remains of many, many ponies. Several seemed to have broken their hooves pounding upon the door. So many dead, and some more fresh, flesh still clinging to bone, preserved by the cold. The bodies seemed to mock our already dismal chances of survival.

“Oh yes, I’m quite sure you don’t stand a chance.” Gold Card replied, just as evenly as before. “That never seemed to bother you every year other ponies were sent to their deaths. That is exactly what everypony else will do — try to forget. And when they do? You’ll just be another nameless corpse. Like them,” He nodded towards the skeletons outside, “You will soon be.”

I couldn’t restrain the contents of my stomach, heaving my dismal meal upon the metal steps leading towards what seemed like a frozen hellhole. No words or thoughts came to me, other than one thought.

We’re doomed.

The others around us stared in shock at what was in front of them, the horror not quite sinking in.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, a few thoughts crept into my head.

I have no choice. If we don’t leave, that Judicare will cut us down where we stand.

My choice was made for me, I realized. I attempted to regain my composure, putting on my best face to hide my terror and disgust. I began walking forwards, helping Spring on the way.

“The first steps upon the road…”

I could tell there was a sick smile on Gold Card’s face, but I didn’t look back.

My movement spurred the others to move forwards into the blackness of the wastes. Once the last hoof left the threshold of our home, we heard the metallic creak of the Stable door rolling shut. Only the path ahead was left, and we walked.

Softly, I muttered under my breath, hardly even loud enough for Spring to hear.

“I’ll be back.”

My show of defiance buoyed my confidence, but as I stood with the cold antechamber before me, the unyielding door behind me, and a collection of friends and enemies standing around me... that time seemed very, very far away.

Spring still leaned against me, but the sight of so many corpses around us seemed to diminish any sort of comfort either of us might have gained from the act. It occurred to me that they didn’t smell, not really — It was too cold. They were frozen.

I swallowed bile nonetheless.

As my eyes began to adjust, I could begin to make out the remainder of the room. It was a large building, with walls that must once have been white, but long since faded with time. A vaulted set of doors stretched almost from one side of the room to the other, made of intricately carved wood that seemed to have stood the test of time better than the building around it. The door was flanked by a pair of black stone columns, stretching all the way up to the roof. I couldn’t tell if they were decorative or functionally load-bearing, but they were certainly impressive.

I couldn’t get caught up in it. It occurred to me that there were ponies relying on me, and I couldn’t afford to waste time staring at architecture.

I helped Spring lay down on a relatively clear patch of ground, making sure she was at least somewhat okay before taking stock of the others. Her tears were beginning to dry, at least, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about what had happened, yet.

Haywire seemed to be in a daze, confusion and slowly dawning horror making its way into her expression. She simply stood there, her eyes unfocused. Castle had retreated into a corner near the Stable door, sobbing and openly staring right into the eyeless sockets of a foal-sized skeleton.

On the other side of the room, Boltcutter sneered at me before beginning to investigate the immediate area, accompanied by Wingnut. Of all the ponies kicked out, those two were the only ones to have a chance to mentally prepare for it.

I decided to go see Castle first. “Hey, hey stay over here, and don’t look at them… or try not to, I mean.” I tried persuading him to move over by Spring. If we were at least together… I don’t know. It seemed like it would be better, at least.

“It’s…” he stuttered, “It’s so small.”

I avoided looking at the corpse. “Castle, there’s nothing we can do about it. All we can do is try to survive right now. I need you to keep your head. At least try, hey?”

“It’s so small, so cold…” He seemed to have gone into shock, violently shivering, and muttering to himself.

I avoided looking at the corpse. It certainly had him in a bit of a trance, and I feared it could well do the same to me at that point. “Castle, look at me! We’ll be okay. Just try and keep calm. Come sit over here with Spring, it’ll help you both keep warm.” I gestured over to where I’d left her, the small area clear of corpses that looked like it might start to be our gathering area, of sorts.

He followed my instructions, but he seemed out of it. Like he wasn’t really there, mentally. Still, it was better than staring at the poor, unfortunate corpse.

Sadly, that was about the point where Haywire snapped out of her trance, so to speak. “These are the ponies we’ve been kicking out every census…” she started to giggle. As I moved around to see her properly, her pupils had gotten very small. The giggles quickly moved on to almost hysterical laughter. “Is this it? Is this all they leave us with?! What ch-”

There was a crack, almost too loud in the otherwise quiet space of the room. Officer Handout had hit her upside the head with his baton. “Get your head about you,” He commented, almost too calmly for the situation. “Most of these ponies don’t have pipbucks, probably ones who wanted in when the bombs fell. Now look, if this building survived then there has to be others which have done the same. We’ll make it through this, just need to work together. As he finished, he calmly loaded a magazine into his pistol, before stowing it back in his security uniform.

I stared at him, awestruck that he would do such a thing. “What did you go hitting her like that for? Don’t you think we’ve been through enough, at this point?” I cried out, outraged that he would do that to my friend.

He trotted up to me, his muzzle not an inch away from my own. “Terror is a disease, Crafter. One that spreads to all those around it. If we are to survive, and I plan to, we must remain calm.” He almost spat the words at me.

But for all his bluster, I could see in his eyes that he was afraid. Very afraid.

“I…” Haywire started, awkwardly brushing her mane to hide her anxiety. “I was… sorry, guys.” She seemed ashamed, and didn’t want to instigate more of an argument. “Won’t happen again.” She tried to put on a smile, despite the circumstances.

I glanced up at her in acknowledgement, dropping the issue as I kept any further thoughts to myself. Instead, I decided to start searching the building for any sort of useful supplies.

The room we were in yielded nothing of worth, forcing me to look elsewhere. I told the others I would be looking around, and Officer Handout even gave me a nod of encouragement. I put my shoulder against one of the ancient wooden doors and pushed. Despite being over three times my height, the door yielded with minimal resistance, gliding silently open enough for me to move into the next room.

That was the point at which I realized we were in no small building. The room opened up around me, being well over a hundred meters from the doors I stood at to another, far less ornate set of doors set along the opposite side. The room was also, roughly, fifty meters across, with huge columns made of the same black stone as before, evenly spaced along the sides of the room. Near the roof, supported by the columns, was an ornate balcony that gave hints of other doorways, leading to what were presumably other rooms in this massive structure. Along each wall, three evenly spaced doorways — normal, pony-sized doors this time — were nestled in gaps between columns. Off to my left sat what appeared to be a reception desk, with a terminal seated upon it. The faint light of the screen illuminated a swathe of the otherwise rather dark room.

Cautiously, I made my way over to the terminal. The place had a… hushed tone to it. Oppressive, like any noise made was out of the ordinary, unwelcome. I could dimly hear the sounds of quiet conversation coming from the others, through the doorway I’d left partially open. Something made me… well, it just felt like a good idea to keep quiet.

When I finally reached the terminal, I was greeted with a screen infuriatingly stuck on a login screen. After several tries, not limited to “stabletec,” “password,” or “12345,” I determined that whoever must have locked it knew what they were doing. The information on there must certainly have been something important, for them to put that much security on it. I was stumped.

Deciding there was nothing for it, I started to head back to report what I’d found to the others. For whatever reason, that was when I felt… well, something. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, though as far as I could tell, there wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary about the room… not even up on the shadowy balcony, way up there. “Hello?” I whispered, almost to myself.

Quiet as they were, the words seem to echo in the empty room… a dull sound.

Empty.

I quietly made my way back to the others, closing the large door behind me this time.

Turning to the room, it seemed that everypony was looking at me, the first to venture out of the safety of the antechamber. I cleared my throat. “Um, so there’s a terminal out there. And the building we’re in is actually rather big…” I trailed off. There wasn’t a whole lot more I’d actually discovered, unfortunately.

“Hmm,” Handout commented, “I think we should check it out. Might be some supplies, somewhere. Canned food, blankets maybe.”

I glanced at him, remembering that sinking feeling that there was something going on in that huge room. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” I replied, “I’ve got a bad feeling...”

He let out a sigh, “I don’t think we have the luxury of being superstitious, Crafter.”

I thought about that for a moment before conceding the point.

Handout got to his hooves. “Well, let’s go look around, then.”

I opened the door again, pulling out my wrench… you know, just in case. “Alright, but I’m still uneasy about it.”

He stopped for only a moment to take in the massive room, before deciding to tackle the closest door to us, on the left. Even he seemed disinclined to talk while we were exposed near the massive door. Quietly, he led the way, carefully opening the door as he pointed his pistol through. I could tell there was training in his motions, but it looked like he hadn’t done anything really like it in a long time. Still, I would have simply opened the door — his way was better.

He gave a grim smile, evidently satisfied that the immediate corridor was clear, before moving into the doorway. I followed him in, quietly closing the door behind us.

I hadn’t made it more than a few steps after him before… well, I just got this feeling. Like something was watching me, something I can’t quite explain. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up… something felt wrong, and I said so.

“Oh come on, Crafter.” Handout commented, approaching a bend in the corridor. “What could possib-” He paused for a second, his eyes growing wide, as he seemed to lose his train of thought once he saw what was in the hall. “By Celestia…”

I stutter-stepped, not expecting him to stop so suddenly. Unfortunately, I saw what was waiting for us past the bend in the hall. Before us were the torn remains of a pony. Its bones were shattered, even broken open. Blood had sprayed the walls, coated the floor, as if an immense amount of violence had befallen this poor pony… hopefully, he’d died quickly. The worst part, however, took me a few seconds to realize: Most of the bones bore deep grooves in them… like they’d been gnawed on, by teeth not intended for the purpose.

I backed up a pace, and emptied what remained of my stomach’s contents on the stained tiles. Dimly, I overheard Handout comment, “This can’t be more than a week old…”

“We’re all gonna die,” I whispered, “That’s it, isn’t it? We’re just all gonna die.”

Handout was still examining the body, continuing to speak despite the fact that I was… somewhat out of it. “His gun’s still here… what the hell did this...”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna die. It’s… it’s gonna eat us. We’re done.” I sat down, staring corridor I couldn’t stand to face again.

Handout’s pistol was levitated out in front of him as he backed slowly away from the corner. “No, this body just proves that there are others out there. We need to find them. Find help.”

“What?!” I cried out, louder than I’d intended. “You want to find who — or what — ever did that? You’re out of your mind!”

“Not them you idiot, where he came from!” He jerked his pistol, indicating the body. “He had to come from somewhere. He’s not from our Stable, no Pipbuck.”

I tried to recall, rather than glance at what was once a pony… but ended up taking his word for it. Assuming he was right, that still left another matter: “But that thing… whatever it was that did that… it’s probably still here.”

“Yeah,” He replied, and I was abruptly reminded that he still had his pistol drawn. “I’m willing to bet it is. We need to leave here, and quick.” He started to head back the way we’d come, “But we need to figure out what our surroundings are, first.”

I nodded, still clutching my wrench in a magical grip. I pointed at the far door, “You think it’s that way?”

“Might be,” He replied, “This looks kinda like a fancy atrium, which means the entrance should probably be opposite from the Stable itself.” Again he gestured with the pistol, towards the far set of doors.

Not having any reason to doubt him, I simply nodded in response. Following his lead, we made our way cautiously across the room. I was more paranoid than ever that there was something in the building with us, but for better or worse, we saw nothing new. Taking up positions on opposite sides of the door, he inclined his head towards the door, then towards me. His magic still held fast to his pistol, ready for anything that might be out there. I got the hint, testing my own magic against the door. It didn’t seem locked, so I gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

Mouthing the words, he counted down from three, and I pushed the door open, enough for him to move if necessary. Our caution proved to be pointless, as we were both buffeted by what seemed to be a blinding sheet of white… and cold! I could feel it sapping the warmth from my barding, beginning to form a light sheet of snow and ice on the surface of the fabric.

Handout had to holster his gun to focus, but between the two of us, we managed to force the door shut, seconds after opening it. As it closed at last, Handout muttered a curse under his breath.

A shiver ran down my spine. “I can’t believe it. We’re trapped. We don’t have anything to keep us warm enough in that kind of weather!”

Handout visibly slumped, “This… this can’t be right. Maybe the storm will pass?”

“Yeah, I guess it might,” I replied, “But what if another one hits us when we’re out there? And what if it doesn’t pass?” I put my hoof on the recently closed door. It was cold, freezing even, and this was the warmer side. I felt my hoof adhere slightly, before I pulled away.

“Well, what would you have us do?” Handout replied, visibly frustrated. “I won’t wait here to starve, or worse.”

“Well,” I suggested, “We could check out the rest of the building. There could be food, or something else useful. You never know.”

He turned slowly to face me. “That’s probably what that pony in the hall was thinking when he went in there...”

Another shiver made its way down my spine. Not a positive outlook, there. “Well, I really don’t see any other possibilities here.”

Handout paused a moment, before slowly leading us back to the others. He spoke as we walked, “We give the storm two days, then we go. There has to be some other structures around, this was a Stable after all. Probably a town nearby, or the remains of one, at least.”

“You don’t know that,” I muttered, “No one does…”

He turned on me… I guess he heard me. “Fine then, stay here to die! I won’t though, I have to try. I’ll fight this fate ‘til the very end if I must!”

“I don’t want to die either, just looking at our options.” I replied, relatively evenly. “Besides, we should stick together, regardless… so yeah.”

“Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’d recommend you come as well…” He stopped short of the door back to the Stable antechamber, turning to me. “And I don’t think we should tell the others about what we saw. They’re panicked enough as it is.”

“Yeah… good call.” I replied, “It freaked me out more than enough, nevermind them.”

As we returned, it seemed most of the others had found spots on the floor to settle down, cleared of any immediate mortal remains. Only Wingnut and Boltcutter sat apart.

It hadn’t occurred to me at the time, but later it came to me that the other names we’d heard from the list had somehow escaped their fate — on account of our misfortune, I assumed. It seemed damned unfair that they’d changed things just to make it more… convenient, for them. They’d only sent the seven of us out, too. Not even the full ten that should have gone, according to the census.

I’d agonized over that damned number, and I’d gotten burned by it without even having my name called. Something about that just rankled, felt like we’d been cheated.

At any rate, Haywire was sitting next to Spring, attempting to comfort the other mare with her presence. Castle was sleeping fitfully near the two of them, clutching his barding tight to himself. Haywire noticed our return and looked up, though she stayed seated for the time being. “What’s out there, Crafty?”

I walked over to them, trying not to give any sense that we’d seen something terrible. “A big room,” I explained, “Lots of doors, must be a massive building… the far one leads to, well… a snowstorm. At least, I assume that’s snow.” On the nearer wall, Handout had sat down against it. He took out his pistol and began to maintain it. I saw springs, pieces, all parts of the weapon taken apart and cleaned with a rag. It seemed to calm him a bit, before I tore my eyes away. “How are you all feeling?” I asked, my attention returning to Haywire.

“Well,” She replied, concern evident in her tone. “Spring has calmed down, but still doesn’t want to be touched… she doesn’t seem to want to talk right now, either.” The other mare gave minimal sign that she was even aware she was being talked about, and Haywire gave a soft sigh. Clearly she hadn’t made much progress, there. “The rest of us are dealing with it as much as we can right now. I think my reaction was the worst so far… sorry about that.” She turned back to looking at me. “Wingnut and Boltcutter have been searching corpses for Sisters know what.” Disgust was obvious in her tone… but there was also a hint of fear, probably that they might actually have the right idea. Not a pleasant thought.

I spared the duo a glance. They were whispering by themselves, but I didn’t get the sense that they’d be any sort of a threat. “Don’t worry about them, they’ll get what’s coming to them… eventually.” I returned my gaze to Haywire. “You should try and get some rest,” I suggested, “Everyone should. We’ll wait out the storm, then try to explore our surroundings afterwards.”

She seemed quite willing to agree to that, not trying to suppress a yawn. “Will do,” she affirmed. “And Crafter… I’m glad you’re here, with us. I don’t think I could make it through this without a friend beside me.”

I returned the smile. “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here with you guys, too.” I made eye contact with Spring. I did mean it. As shitty as things were… I was happy to be with them.

I felt a flutter in my chest as Spring nodded in acknowledgement. She still didn’t want to talk, and she pointedly avoided looking in Wingnut and Boltcutter’s direction… but she indicated with a motion of her head that she would be okay with me sleeping beside her, opposite Haywire. I was all too eager to comply — especially if it was what she wanted. As I laid down, my flank brushed against hers. A shudder ran through her body, but once it passed, she moved herself closer, pressing herself against me and even going so far as using one of my forehooves as an improvised pillow. She was warm, and she smelled so good… I wish I could have just stayed there, with her.

Sometimes, I almost wish… nevermind.

We slept for a long while. Or at least, it felt like we did. Huddled together for warmth, against the descending cold. I think Handout might have kept guard, but I was too out of it to really notice.

When it happened, it all went so fast. One second we were sleeping, and the next, well…

A loud sound broke the silence in the chill air. The slam of a door, followed by the heavy tromping of hooves making no effort to be quiet, reverberating through the building.

No one needed to be woken, we were all so on edge that the noise had everyone up and alert. I drew my wrench, calling out “What is it?” to no one in particular. I had a moment of regret that we never had actually collected the weapons and barding from the corpse in the corridor… I guess we figured we’d have time.

Handout had adopted a shooting stance, aiming his pistol at the doorway. “Don’t know,” he commented, as if I was distracting him with something obvious.

Haywire was a touch slower, jumping to her hooves. “I don’t- I don’t know!” she cried out, rapidly glancing from me, to Handout, and finally to Wingnut and Boltcutter. At the time, I wasn’t sure if them being as surprised as we were was a good thing or not.

Spring and Castle both seemed almost catatonic. She just stared at the door, eyes wide and unblinking, while he couldn’t seem to find words at the time.

In the end, none of us truly did anything. We waited, for whatever it was to either find us or move away.

We heard a number of voices from the larger room, overlapping eachother and rendering individual voices unintelligible… until they were all drowned out by the loudest, most angry voice I’d ever heard. “Stay the fuck out of the hallways, you idiots. We know where they are, for fuck’s sake!”

“There are more,” I commented in Handout’s direction, “You were right, there’s gotta be a town out there!” I glanced around, the beginnings of hope starting to fill me. At the very least, it was better than the sense of dread that had settled deep in my gut, refusing to budge. “We’re gonna be alright! They’ve come for us!”

Handout seemed to lighten up, just a hair. He adjusted his stance to aim at the base of the door, rather than chest height. “Just maybe…” was all he replied with.

Despite my words, Spring shrunk back nonetheless, making herself as small as possible and hiding all but her eyes behind her hooves as she hunkered down.

I looked down at her, trying to be comforting. “It’s alright, they’re here to help…” I took a few shaky steps towards the door, slowly making my way across the room.

Long before I got there, the thudding of hooves stopped just outside the door, when all too agonizingly slowly, the doors were pushed open, revealing the biggest pony I’d ever seen. He was an earth pony, and he stood a full head and shoulders over Handout and myself, the tallest of our group… but for all his size, it was his barding that stood out. Thick, interlocking plates covered the front half of his body, all polished to a high degree of shine, except where lingering frost clung to its surface, confirming, if it was needed, that they hadn’t just come from somewhere else in the building. Upon his head was a wicked helmet, with three large, spiked protrusions jutting forward — one on top of his muzzle and one on either side. Each spike was about the length of one of my forelegs, and finely sharpened. He dominated the doorway, but as he entered another nine ponies moved in to flank him, their movements erratic, jerky. Like there was something wrong with them. I didn’t spare the others much of a look, too distracted by the hulking beast that had just entered.

I stared straight at the pony at the head, fear welling again. “He-hello,” I began, “We uh, we were just kicked out of the Stable, and were, well… we’re wondering if you could help us reach a nearby settlement…?” Cautiously, I took a few steps backwards.

The lead pony let on a dastardly smile, his scarred lips parting disturbingly at the motion. “Oh yes,” he rumbled, “We’re envoys of sorts. Come here just for you…”

I backed up to where Spring was, hiding her from view, as if it made much of a difference. “What do you mean, ‘of sorts’? You’re from a nearby settlement, aren’t you?” I shot Handout a glance, wanting to see his reaction to all this.

Handout’s face was drawn with tension. His gun was still out, unwavering.

“Oh, we’re a very nice close community… nice meat ya got there, by the way,” the stallion replied, causing Spring to glance away when he so much as looked at her. He laughed, deep and humourless. “Seems a bit shy, though.” His eyes narrowed and his grin widened.

“Meat? What do you-” I looked back at Spring, the thought of the gnawed bones in the hallway forcing unwanted conclusions to mind. “Oh, no, she’s not meat! Please, she’s had a rough time.” I magically gripped my wrench, ready to strike if I had to.

He feigned shock while still grinning. “What, had a bit too much fun with her? Not good to overwork ‘em.”

I looked over at Wingnut and Boltcutter. “What? No! She was… abused. I would never do that to her…”

He let out another throaty laugh, “Oh, we would never harm anypony, especially not when they send them out at the same time, every year.” It was then that I noticed the two very wide-barreled guns adorning his sides, hooked up to some sort of mechanical feed system. As he finished his statement, the other ponies moved more fully into the room. Terrible realization hit me, as I realized the coats most of them wore were actually stitched together pony hide. There were even cutiemarks. The furthest forwards carried a short chainsaw-styled blade in his mouth, revving it as if eager to spill blood.

I felt sick, but there was nothing to throw up.

“Please!” I cried, “We don’t want any harm, can’t you leave us be? You can have whatever we have on us, just leave us alone!”

The armoured stallion stared directly into my eyes. “Oh, it’s not what's on you we want…”

Wingnut stepped forward, breaking the trance that seemed to have fallen over most of the Stable ponies. “We’re not afraid of you. You think you can scare us into submission? Hah!” He gave a brittle laugh. I’d known him for years, and I could tell he was bluffing hard, even for him. I’d never hoped his bluster would actually work, until then. “We’ve just been kicked out by the scariest ponies this side of Equestria. We stared down Judicators and came out alive!” He approached the ponies from outside, puffing himself out as he spoke, trying to out-bravado the massive pony.

What happened next seemed as if in slow motion, yet surely only seconds must have passed.

When Wingnut finished his tirade, the armoured stallion just smirked before lunging his head forward, blindingly fast. The spikes on his helmet skewered the poor buck straight through. Then, with a violent whip of his head, the stallion threw the screaming Wingnut across the room into Haywire, knocking her over. It seemed like nothing to him, lifting and even throwing that much weight with only his neck muscles.

The pony with the chain knife dove straight at Boltcutter. Blood and smoke mixed with his scream as I fearfully looked away, already having seen the walls painted with the blood of another of the ponies I grew up with.

Across the room, Handout’s pistol spoke repeatedly. His aim was true, putting three rounds into the skull of one of the aggressor ponies, dropping him in an instant. As the pony fell, Handout swung to fire at the big stallion, pistol rounds bouncing harmlessly off the now bloodstained armor. With a smirk, the armoured stallion’s guns opened up, spitting death, loud and violent. In a spray of gore, Handout dropped unceremoniously.

I quickly helped Spring up, retreating as far as we could towards the Stable door, the bold numbers standing out in vibrant yellow against the carnage being wrought in the room just outside. I willed them to hear, to come… to help.

But they never did.

A mare grabbed the petrified Castle as the Stallion advanced upon us. With a short shriek cut heart wrenchingly short, a cruel knife was driven through the young buck’s temple.

Spring latched on to me, clinging to me as though her very sanity depended on it. Where earlier she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, now her eyes were wide, fixated on their leader.

Backed right against the Stable door, he loomed over us. To our right, I saw Haywire desperately trying to fight an insane-sounding mare. The mare had a crazy looking sickle that had knives tied, glued and welded on. Surely such a device couldn’t be considered effective, but all I could do was watch in horror as the mare fit it cleanly around Haywire’s neck. “Crafter!” She screamed, desperately, before the blade sunk into the skin of her neck. The mare above her turned her body, wrenching sideways as she did. My best friend’s head was separated from her body with a sickening pop and a spray of blood, before the mare above her kicked it in our direction, bouncing, lifeless, and trailing gore behind it.

I screamed, turning towards the leader and swinging my wrench with all the force I could muster behind it. The Stallion made no move to dodge, and the solid wrench connected with his helmet with a sound much like the ringing of a gong.

His head barely moved at all.

“You’ll regret that,” he said, adjusting the fit of the helmet upon his head. With one leg, he swept my forehooves out from under me. Right as my head hit the ground, he put his massive hoof on it, forcing me to look at Spring, quaking with fear and being advanced on, alone, in the furthest corner of the Stable entrance she could press herself into. “I’ll take her with us,” he said, “And you’ll know that we’re having our fun with her. And that you failed.”

He then swing his hoof, a broad motion that cracked my head against the ground. As I started to black out, I heard Spring being dragged away, screaming my name. My gaze fell on the last thing I’d see before I blacked out — the dead eyes of Haywire, her head having rolled into my field of view. They seemed, heartbreakingly, as if to say, “It’s not your fault,” before darkness overtook me.

When I awoke, they were gone. The… Raiders, as I would eventually come to know them as, had taken the corpses… all of them, and they’d taken Spring. Handout’s pistol was gone, too. As some sort of sick joke, they’d left Haywire’s severed head… and the skeletons of those who’d died before.

I was alone.

I… I cried, for a long time.

It was the cold that snapped me out of it. I hadn’t experienced a true “night” in the Stable, but I could certainly tell that the temperature was dropping.

The first thing I did was close the exit door, which they had left open. Then, I started to look around the building. The cold eventually got bad enough to overcome my fear of the corridors, and I ventured back to the corpse.

I think I pieced together a lot of what happened to him. Somepony I never knew, who’d simply gotten really unlucky. I found what had killed him, too — you all called them “ghouls,” but I didn’t know that at the time. They must have caught him by surprise. Now that I had a chance to look, he’d taken down several in this section of the corridor alone. Disgusting things, decayed, and with razor-sharp, ice cold crystals protruding in small clumps from their skin.

I took his pistol, wishing I’d had the courage to take it earlier… turns out, it was empty, but there were two full magazines on his body. I guess he didn’t have time to reload. Further in, I passed more ghoul bodies before I found his barding. It was leather, reinforced with fur and fleece on the inside. A garment designed for survival, plain and simple.

He’d been forced to shuck it, when one of the ghouls had gotten ahold of it — I could see the bite marks, the lack of blood. He’d been quick about it, but they’d caught him in the end. It kept me warm, those long days.

His pack was similar. Too loose, one of them must’ve grabbed it. It had food, water… enough for a bit more than a day, probably as long as he planned to be out. I managed to make it last three — it was the fourth, when you all found me in there.

There was one final thing he left behind. A beautiful single-edged sword, where it had stuck into one of the corridor walls after decapitating a ghoul. I didn’t need my pipbuck to tell me its name was “Celestial Riposte” — it was engraved on the handle. I didn’t actually end up making use of it until after you found me… thankfully enough.

I… I guess that’s pretty much it. When I tried venturing any further than where I found the sword, I actually saw them. Huddled in a corner, just… standing there. Those “ghouls” seemed alive, breathing and all, but… they weren’t ponies anymore. It seemed unnatural, and it was enough to convince me to stay away from the deeper parts of the building for good.

After that, I pretty much just held up near the Stable entrance, waiting for the snowstorm to end… and that’s when you all fell into my life… literally.

Author's Notes:

Well, this chapter has certainly been in the works for a long while. It took no small amount of self-motivation to finally get through this, but here it is — The Infamous Crafter Chapter. I thought this would be a really cool idea, and we built it into the overall scheme of how to release the chapters... and then I got bogged down immensely. Summer happened, life happened, fun stuff. Not enough excuses to be found to actually justify how long this took, sadly.

Anyways, this sets the precedent for similar chapters — one offs, written by other party members, and how they become part of the narrative. Snap remains the primary narrator, but I hope that these provide a sense of context, of character, and some insight into things that Snap doesn't necessarily see, as they go along. Above all, I hope you enjoyed this journey into the mind of Crafter. I can assure you, we're headed back to Snap with the next Chapter, and it promises to be a fun one. Should be written a lot faster, too, but we'll see about that.

At any rate, the final crunch was getting this done before Fallout 4... I can certainly promise, there ain't gonna be anything productive happening after Monday at midnight.

Also, 11:41 totally still counts as "Friday," right?