Ow, my head.

It felt like an icepick was being driven through my forehead with all the care of a sledgehammer through a wall of toilet paper. Wait, what am I yammering about? Spongy bright lights flashing in front of my ocular bulbs are hurting my thinking box. What a dink? Dink? No, drink? Yes, drink. A lotta drinks? Yes. Medical necessity. Maybe prescribe a higher dose next time, might help the old thinker tinker right now-a-wow.

I’m such a good fucking doctor.

No, no, no, thinking time now. Gotta think clear, clear as whiskey. Wait, is whiskey clear? Kind of, sort of clearish amber with a small hint of... no Goddess-dammit we’re getting off track again, gotta think. Where am I?

It would probably help if my eyes were open. Ok, right eye first. I felt the lid peel over my eyeball like the skin off an orange… with similar sounds to accompany it. The world was still mostly dark, but a dim, green light was coming from somewhere else in the room. Now the left. Similar results finally gave the scene some depth, and I guess I was laying on the ceiling.

Wait, that can’t be right. But the floor was so far away. I mean, I do have wings, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten me into a harrowing situation after a night of drinking. Especially that one Nightmare Night when all my friends and I dressed up as bats and tried to outdo each other’s impersonations. I wrapped my tail around the top of that flagpole and hung upside down while we all passed out. That was a less than fun way to wake up.

Fucking shit, why is it so hard for me to concentrate? Obviously I’m just looking at the ceiling, I’m lying on my back.

The pieces of my concentration steadily fell back into place, the train of thoughts finally getting back on schedule. How much did I have to drink? The last thing I remember was trying to comfort Tumbler, then we both started in on that flask Cracks gave me before we left and then-

Tumbler.

My eyes finally shot open as I tried to stand and… why couldn’t I stand? I struggled and shimmied, but my limbs all remained still. I then became acutely aware of the binding chains lashed around my body.

Oh fuck! I started to hyperventilate, but realized I was only breathing through my nose. A gag, really? A muffled scream was all I could manage around the ball of cloth so unceremoniously shoved into my muzzle. My breathing turned to short bursts as I futilely continued to struggle against the restraints, but still nothing. My heart jackhammered against my chest, threatening to burst free from the fleshy prison.

Calm down. Panicking wasn’t going to help me now, I needed a plan. First, find out where I am. Second, find a way to escape. The rest could wait until later. I was at least still able to turn my head, and I slowly tried to take stock of my surroundings. I definitely wasn’t in the entrance hall anymore. No, this new room looked quite a bit more like an office. The material under my back and on my left were fairly plush. Maybe a couch? There was a circular desk in the center of the room with a terminal perched atop it. That was where the green light was coming from, and it was illuminating the outline of a pony.

I couldn’t help it, I shrieked once again into the cloth. The figure turned toward me, finally catching sight of my struggling.

“S-so I guess you’re awake?” a stallion’s voice asked timidly. His voice sounded ragged, a dead ringer for the one that had greeted us from the intercom when we first arrived. But while he was definitely an adult, or at least close to it, there was a bit of childishness to his tone. Like a young colt that had just been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar. The stallion pushed back from the desk and cautiously walked toward me.

Although the lights were dim, I was still able to make out some of his features. He was fairly tall, but skinnier than almost any pony I’d ever seen. The dark grey of his coat was visible beneath the grimy, blue and yellow jumpsuit he was sporting. His deep blue mane hung long and clumpy, like he hadn’t washed it since the last time he’d had a decent meal. His bloodshot left eye continually averted away from me, almost as if he were terrified of making eye contact. The right one was shut or… wait. A long scar ran along his right temple, starting at the eye and tapering off near the back of his skull. I sucked in a breath when I realized it was gone.

“H-hello, miss. A-are you comfortable… you know, all things considered?” he continued, a look of concern passing over his face and an unusual amount worry in his tone. “I really don’t want to knock you out again, that spell I used isn’t good for the brain. But it’s gonna be pretty boring until your friends get here and…” he trailed off. His hoof suddenly shot up and smacked into his face. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t care about any of this. I’ve just never really had to entertain any guests before and-” he stopped again.

He turned to the side, his concerned expression morphing into one of frustration, “Yes I know you’ve been here, but I don’t count you.” His previous timidness instantly shifted into anger, almost hatred. There was another pause, “Because I despise you, that’s why.” Pause. “I don’t give a damn about your feelings. Now please, I’m trying to talk to her.”

What the fuck?

He turned back toward me, “Sorry again. I’m kinda new to the whole ‘hostage taking’ thing, and I’m probably screwing it up.” His mouth morphed into what was probably an attempt at a smile, but came off as a toothy sneer, “M-my name’s Venture, Venture Forth. What’s yours?”

“Mmph?” I mumbled confusedly.

“Oh, right. The gag… and the chains,” he said sheepishly. A blue glow surrounded the gag and started to pull it down. Was he really letting me answer? Seeing an opportunity, I prepared my lungs. If he needed me as a hostage, then he probably didn’t want me dead, at least not right away. If I could get out one good scream, that might be enough to alert the others.

Just before the cloth cleared my muzzle, he stopped, “Hold on, are you just going to scream as soon as I pull this away? I understand why you’d want to… but I really can’t let you do that.” His expression grew darker, more resolute. He said nothing more, but the atmosphere grew heavy with the promise of what he was willing to do to keep me silent.

I needed to get this gag off, but I’d also had a front row seat to the levels of violence this Venture Forth was capable of. I was briefly reminded that there were many things he could do that didn’t involve killing me. I shuddered as flashes of Tumbler slowly being impaled on that spike played through my thoughts. For now I’d have to play this cool.

“Uh pmfmiss,” I mumbled around the gag, shaking my head and trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Uh won’t scea’.”

Venture breathed a sigh of relief. “Ok then,” he sounded much calmer. “I really am sorry about all this. I didn’t want to hurt anypony, honest. It’s just-” he stopped again, his earlier anger returning in full.

“I told you to stay out of this!” he barked, whipping around and facing the empty space behind him. “Leave, now!” Pause, “She’s tied up, far from her friends, and I’m strong enough to do whatever the hell I want to her if she tries anything.” Another pause. “I DIDN’T FUCKING MEAN THAT!” he shouted suddenly, causing me to jump in alarm. Well maybe not jump. More like wiggle in alarm.

Another pause, “Y-yes, you and I both know I’ve never done… anything like that. I don’t even want to touch another pony, much less… that.” Pause, “NO CHANCE DOESN’T COUNT YOU REPUGNANT FUCK!” Pause, “I don’t care what you think,” Venture seethed, “I would never do to another pony what he did to me. How dare you even think that I’d-”

Pause, “I don’t know, like crush her skull, snap her neck, or… oh.”

He turned back toward me, regret burning in his eyes as if he'd just remembered I was there. I reflexively struggled against the bindings, muffled shrieks escaping my gag. “I’m sorry,” he said panickedly. “I wouldn’t try to kill you unless you gave me a reason to-” he cut himself off and buried his face in his hooves. “I’m not helping, am I?”

I took a few deep breaths, trying to settle my drumline of a heartbeat, “Nuh, ooo rn’t.” Then a thought struck me.

As much as I hated the comparison, I couldn’t help but draw the parallels between our behavior. He sounded almost exactly like I had when I was trying to comfort Tumbler. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and making the whole situation worse in our fluster. Yeesh, maybe that meant I was a little bit of a psychopath.

No, not psychopath. Oddly enough, the analytical part of my brain chose that moment to kick into gear. I was a psychologist, words had meaning. Afflictions had meaning, and they had very clearly defined symptoms. Psychopathy was never the easiest diagnosis to make, but there were at least some very prominent red flags. While everything I knew so far about this pony certainly checked off severely stunted social behavior and a proclivity to violence, these last few minutes certainly didn’t mark him as one lacking empathy.

That marker was perhaps the most important of all. He could be faking it, surely, but what reason would he have to? If all Venture wanted was my compliance, he could certainly play up the emotionless and violent captor. Instead, he was acting like an awkward teenager trying to ask out his high school crush. Bipolar? Possibly. Schizophrenic? Almost certainly if his continual outbursts at somepony I was ninety-percent sure wasn’t there was any indicator. But this short conversation did not mark him as a psychopath to me. What kind of life would this pony have had to live to get to a state like this? To be plagued with mental issues this deep in a place like the Wasteland?

I started to feel almost… sorry for him.

Regardless, a psychopath would be an issue, but him? Him I could work with. This discovery could absolutely play to my advantage.

“Mmph,” I mumbled, meeting his gaze and then glancing at the gag.

“Oh, right,” Venture said, looking relieved at the turn in discourse. His magic surrounded the gag again and gently pulled it out of my mouth. “S-so can we try again?”

I took a few more breaths, closing my eyes and trying to reimagine the situation. I wasn’t tied up and at the mercy of somepony that had just killed… at least four ponies. I was in my office, starting my first session with a new patient. Although, I guess this time I was the one on the couch.

I put on the most comforting smile I could muster, “I’d like that. My name is Crescent Harmony.”

“A-and I’m Venture, Venture Forth,” he responded quickly, smiling slightly at my calm tone. Then his eyes widened, he grit his teeth and slammed his face back into his hooves. “You already said that you moron. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he growled, punctuating every ‘stupid’ with another blow to the face.

“It’s ok,” I responded, keeping up the understanding demeanor, “I know this must be a stressful situation for you. Let’s move past it.”

“And toward what?” he asked, looking back toward me with a suspicious glance. “What are you trying to do?”

“Nothing at all,” I stated simply. “Just for us to move toward what the both of us are going to do to make sure we all make it out of this alive.

“That’s… awfully understanding of you,” he observed, distrust creeping into his tone.

Dammit, I couldn’t lose him now. He might not have been a psychopath, but he was certainly intelligent. Somepony like him had to live completely off of self-preservation, and it was a safe bet he wasn’t a stranger to betrayal. If he even began to suspect I was trying to fool him, this wouldn’t end well for me. Honesty was definitely the best policy right now.

“Look,” I began frankly, “I’m going to level with you. I am terrified right now. Like, scary story in the middle of the night, lightning flash, suddenly headless horse, shitting myself terrified. I’m in a new place, putting my life in the hooves of ponies I barely know, and trying to survive in a way I never had to before. I’ve… I’ve seen what you’re capable of. I don’t want to die, so that means I’ll do whatever I reasonably can to make sure that doesn’t happen. You said you didn’t want to hurt anypony, and I don’t really have any other choice but to believe that. So believe me when I say that I just want to talk this out.”

Venture stared into my eyes, trying to suss out any hint of lying in my statement. I met his gaze, trying to keep my breathing calm and believing in the truth of my words. His pupils shook, as if keeping up the gaze was causing him some physical pain. After a few moments, he turned away, nodding his head in acceptance.

“Ok, Cr-Crescent,” he whispered breathily. “So what is it that you have to say?”

“First things first,” I began coolly. “Let’s talk about what brought us both here today. Get some common ground going.” I took another deep breath, “I was hired as a field doctor by Whiskey Stone, a salvage scavenger operating out of Hoofsprings. A couple days ago his daughter, Tumbler-” he winced when I said her name, but I suppressed any reaction and pressed on “-radioed in to tell us she’d found a Stable and then went quiet. Our group came out here to look for her and her team.”

“And then you found them,” he added dryly.

“Yes,” I answered, allowing no judgement to enter my tone. This really was just like talking to a patient. “So that’s my story, what about yours?”

“None of your business,” he snapped instantly, a bit of anger creeping into his tone. “You don’t need my life’s story. I just need all of you gone, and that will be the end of this. Got it?!”

“Ok,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. “Then let’s just talk about today, and what we need to do to make that happen. I’ve been in the front hall since we got here, so I’m not entirely sure what’s happened since then. If you can tell me, then maybe I can help start some kind of negotiations.”

“Here’s your negotiations,” Venture seethed, “they leave, then you leave, I lock the door, and then you all thank fuck that you didn’t end up with your heads on FUCKING PIKES!” He shouted the final words and shoved his face right up to mine, although, I noticed, not quite close enough to touch. “I just need to be left alone, that’s it! End of Goddess-damned story! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not going to work. Nopony is going to lie to me, nopony is going to trick me, understand?”

“I understand,” I responded, the fear beginning to gnaw at my demeanor was still held at bay through my professionalism. This was just another upset patient, nothing more. “But you have to understand the reality of what’s happening here. Tumbler is hurt, and she needs medical attention right now. We can’t leave until-”

“So why didn’t you save her?” he retorted. “You’re the doctor, right?”

“I’m not… skilled enough to-,” I responded, my voice cracking slightly at the lie, but I stopped. Honesty. I need him to trust me now, “It’s because I’m not a… medical doctor. I lied to Whiskey to get this job and now I’m in way over my head like. A pony he cares about very deeply is dying, and everypony else out there would just as soon shoot you on sight as say a single word. The only way any of us are getting through this is if-”

“You… lied to them?” Venture asked, cutting me off. His anger seemed to be evaporating a bit.

“Yes.”

“But you’re telling me the truth?” he continued.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to trust me and, regardless, what I am doesn’t matter too much if I’m dead,” I said bluntly.

He turned away from me, his shoulders slumping, “It doesn’t matter either way.”

“Why do you say that,” I asked, worry creeping into my tone.

“Because she’s dead,” he stated, sounding regretful once again.

“D-dead?” Oh Goddess no. I should have guessed, but I didn’t want to believe it. What else would he have done after taking me? Say, ‘howdy-do, just gonna knock this pony out and skiddadle. Have a great day?’ “And you…”

“I killed her, yes,” Venture said simply. “She begged me to. I suppose I can’t blame her for wanting it to end.” His head turned toward the floor and a sorrowful chuckle shook him, “If only we could all have somepony so kind and merciful as to put us out of our misery.”

For the first time since I’d awoken, another emotion burned beneath my fear. Fury pressed against my resolve. I wanted to spit venom, fling every ounce of anger onto the vicious pyre of my words. He didn’t deserve my understanding, my kindness. Was I really going to lie to myself and pretend this was the first time he’d done something like this? How many countless others had died at this pony’s hooves? How many innocent lives snuffed out, their deaths dragged on through tortuous hours of agony? I so desperately wanted to be free, regardless of how much harm I could actually inflict. I wanted to hurt him, lash out with everything I had at this… this…

“Monster,” Venture whispered, then turned back toward me. Tears were shimmering in his eye and more still trailed down his cheek, dripping onto the floor. “That’s what you see, isn’t it? A vile, bloodthirsty FUCKING MONSTER!” he cried. A bolt of blue light lanced from his horn and trailed toward the room’s single, circular window. Shattering glass and a piercing, aetheric boom blasted through the space. The intensity of the spell sent an electric surge through the air, tingling across my coat and spreading static through my mane.

A manic, toothy grin spread across his face, but the tears kept coming. Sobs wracked his shoulders while that dark chuckle escaped his throat. “Wh-who could blame you?” he began. “How could anypony see anything else? After everypony I’ve killed, everything I’ve done?!” His chuckle morphed and contorted into full on crazed giggling, starkly contrasted by his continued weeping. “I don’t want this *hehe* I never w-wanted any of this. D-do you know what I wanted to be? I was supposed to be… supposed to be a- a-” He fell to the floor, covering the back of his head with his hooves and continued laughing and sobbing against the steel plate. “I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry. I don’t want to be like this. I just want this nightmare to end.”

Venture’s voice strained to a croak, “Y-you’re even trying to be nice… i-it’s been so long and I… I can’t even…”

Suddenly his head snapped up, and he turned back toward the empty space again. “I told you to shut up!” he screamed. Pause, “I’m n-not a pussy. I’m n-not.” He wiped at his eyes and tried to suppress the sobs. “Just… please…” he squeaked, “... please stop. N-not… not now… p-please.”

Breathe, I told myself, just breathe. He was disturbed… very disturbed. There was no denying that. Regardless of what I felt right now, anger wasn’t going to help anypony. Tumbler was gone, I had to accept that. Everypony else in our group may still be alive, and I had to do everything I could to keep it that way.

And was I really mad at him, or was I mad at myself? Venture had just acted on instinct. Like an abused dog approached too quickly, he’d lashed out and hurt a lot of ponies. In spite of how intelligent he seemed to be, there was something very broken inside of him, and I had to remember that. I was the one who should have known better, that if I hadn’t volunteered for this job, Whiskey could have hired somepony more capable. Somepony who could have treated Tumbler without the Auto-doc, somepony who could have kept her alive. Maybe none of us would have had to set hoof in this stable and…

… and Venture would still be locked away.

Alone.

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” I said delicately.

Venture whipped back toward me, sniffling, “Wh-what?”

Was I… supposed to be here? For him? I was never much of one to believe in fate, but this was all a little too coincidental, too perfect. “I said I don’t think you’re a monster,” I repeated, bringing back the smile.

He scoffed, “Then I’d really hate to see what your definition is. You don’t know me, you don’t know what I’ve done. Trust me, the world would be a much better place if your friends could find a way to finish me off.”

“Then why haven’t you let them?” I asked instantly. “If you just wanted to die, then it would really easy to just walk out there and let them kill you. But you haven’t, and there is a reason behind that.”

Alright, time to lay down the diagnosis, “I do think that you’re hurting, that your life has been very difficult. It sounds like you had some kind of goal once, something you wanted to accomplish, something you still want that’s keeping you from ending it all right now. But for whatever reason, now you feel that you belong down here. You believe that you’re doing the right thing by locking yourself away from the world, and that getting rid of anypony that might bring you back out is for the greater good. A lot has happened to you, and I won’t pretend that I fully understand what that is. But I do know that… monsters wouldn’t feel the kind of regret you’re showing me.” I let that sink in, meeting his gaze and trying to show as much compassion as I could, “I think you’re sick, Venture, and I… I want to help you.”

Woah, woah, what? What the hell did I just say?! I want to help him? That… no, there’s no way. After everything that had happened? That was crazy. This is crazy. I’m talking nonsense, but…

But Venture was perfect.

I knew it was selfish to think. My duty in life was to treat and soothe the mental anguish this world inflicted on ponies, but there was no way I could ignore an opportunity like this. He was the absolute ideal specimen to show those apathetic warmongers back home that my mission wasn’t the waste of resources they had all thought it to be. A wastelander who had done vile, unspeakable things, but still showed a semblance of equinity. He wanted to be better, but had no recourse as to accomplish that. If I could treat him, then he would be exactly what I needed to finally convince the Enclave to reestablish contact with the Wasteland and bring this whole era of war and strife to an end.

“Please Venture, let me help you,” I repeated.

“Y-you’re lying,” he snapped, backpedaling away as if he’d just been struck. “This is a trick. It’s always a trick. You don’t care! None of you ever really care about me! You’re all the fucking same!” he screamed.

“I’m not lying, Venture, I sw-”

“SHUT UP!” he shrieked, putting his hooves around his ears and sealing his eyes. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” His horn burst into light once more. Books on the shelves behind him, supplies from the desk, and, to my horror, a handgun that had been lying out of view all sprang into the air. They whirled around the room in a gail, slamming into walls and me. The pistol crashed against the ceiling and fired, the bullet planting itself not a hair’s breadth from my face.

I shrieked and tried to shield myself by turning toward the backrest of the couch. My body was battered by the onslaught, and there was no end in sight. This was it, this was how I going to die. Beaten to death by books.

It was graduate school all over again.

Something else hit me, something soft. I spared a wary glance and just barely made out the dull brown cloth of my saddlebags. The gale had it pinned against me, the flap fluttering in the magic breeze. Another book came around and slapped it away, spilling the contents into the wind. I watched as notebooks and potions alike joined the debris sailing about the room.

Then I caught sight of one large colorful piece of cloth. It whipped around the room several times until it too pinned against me, though this time it didn’t fly away. My nostrils were immediately filled with the nostalgic scent of musty, pine cologne. I couldn’t help but grow a small smile as I nuzzled my face into the blanket, taking comfort in the fact that it would be the last thing I see. The figures of the Power Ponies stood in a fanning line before my eyes, almost like they were protecting me from the gale.

And then the winds died.

A thundering cascade of thumps marked the contents of the tome tornado (tomenado?) crashing to the ground, then there was only silence. I took a few shaky breaths, allowing the comforting smell to soothe me. When I was reasonably sure that I wasn’t quite dead yet, I shimmied my head out of the blanket and turned back toward the room.

Venture stood in the exact same place, but now his eyes were open and locked directly onto me. I couldn’t quite read his expression, but I took comfort in the lack of panicked rage. After a few more minutes of silence, he spoke, “What’s that?”

I cocked an eyebrow, “A-a blanket?”

“I… wh- yes I know what a blanket is,” he responded frustratedly. “I mean specifically, what’s on it?”

“Oh,” I said. Well duh, of course that’s what he meant, “It’s the Power Ponies. They’re the characters from my favorite comic books. It was about this group of friends, a bunch super powered ponies that fought against the forces of evil and-”

“You… ” he interrupted. Sheesh, manners were definitely going to have to be part of his treatment… provided we ever got there. “You’ve read the Power Ponies?”

He knew them? Interesting. “Of course. When I was a filly, they were how my dad got me into reading. He’d let me stay up as long as I wanted just so the two of us could get through the next issue. We must have read them a hundred times over, but they never got old.” I grinned at the memory, “Since then my dad and I have always been really close. Have you read them?”

Venture didn’t respond at first. Instead he walked over to the desk and pulled open one of the drawers. Several bundles of paper flew out and hovered in the air before me. My eyes grew wide as Venture displayed the first thirteen issues of the comics, all neatly wrapped in clear plastic with only minimal signs of wear.

He smiled. An actual joyous, unforced, real smile graced my captor’s lips as he saw my reaction.

“Wow,” I whispered. “I’d only ever gotten to see digital copies, never any of the original prints. They were all we ever had back in the Enclave.”

“Enclave?” Venture asked, the smile disappearing.

Shit. Me and my big, stupid mouth.

“What’s that?” he continued.

Oh thank fuck.

“N-nothing special,” I responded instantly. “It’s where I grew up. Just another community out in the Wasteland, th-that’s all.” Technically not a lie.

Venture shrugged, “Ok.”

I needed to get this conversation back on track, I couldn’t afford waste this olive branch. “So who’s your favorite character?”

That got his attention. His grin returned in full force and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “The Masked Matterhorn, obviously,” he stated haughtily. “What’s not to love? She’s strong, cunning, and a real leader.”

“I always liked the Saddle-Rager myself,” I responded excitedly, letting my love for the series drip into my tone. “Smart and compassionate, but if you piss her off she could turn into one bad bitch.” I smiled sheepishly, “It might seem a little stupid, but sometimes I kind of like to pretend I am her. To know that I can dole out love and compassion to everypony I care about, but squish my enemies like bugs if I have to. She’s always been one of my biggest role models.”

“That’s not stupid at all,” Venture said, scooching closer with excitement plastered across his face. “When I was little, my older brother used to play Power Ponies with me and he…” his smile faltered a bit and his tone grew somber. “His favorite was the Saddle-Rager.”

“I have a brother too,” I said. Yes, personal connection achieved! “He’s younger than me, but he was never really into comics. I swear he was born thinking he was too old for stuff like that. Are you two close?”

“We were,” he answered as his expression grew evermore dour. “But… not anymore.”

“Oh?” I said inquisitively.

“Fratricide does tend to strain the concept of brotherly love,” he continued.

Goddess-damn, is there any way to talk to this guy without it ending with him killing somepony? “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Venture mumbled. “He’s just another in a long list of ponies that became the victim of my own stupid decisions.”

Nope. Not letting the conversation turn that way again. Maybe I could push further on this, learning more about his past was exactly what I needed to begin properly working with him. But every instinct I had told me that was a bad idea. Right now I needed to create a deeper bond with Venture. Get him to open up on his own terms. It was incredibly obvious that he needed to feel in control right now. Even so, I needed to catalogue everything he said. I could get through to him, I just knew it.

With as much motion as I was allowed, I motioned toward the floating comics, “I only ever had access to the first ten; I’ve never even seen those three.”

The change in subject brightened him up a bit, “I know what you mean. Until I got here, I only had three. I guess whoever built this place knew that ponies would want to read more than just textbooks. Reading for fun is important too.”

“Do you think… maybe I can read them?” I asked hopefully.

Remember, you’re doing this to establish a more personal connection with him, I thought. Not because issue ten ended with Radiance and Humdrum brainwashed by Hypnogriff into attacking Maretropolis and stopped right before the Power Ponies were forced to fight one of their best friends and Goddess-dammit why did these stupid fucking comics have so many FUCKING CLIFFHANGERS!

“Of course,” Venture said quickly, floating over the three issues and dangling them before me. He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh man, you’re in for a treat. Issue twelve finally introduces the mastermind behind the Legion of Moon that’s been bringing together all the villains in Maretropolis and… oh.” He paused, seeing my strained smile and my eyes darting down toward my bound legs. “I… I can’t really let you go yet.”

“That’s fine,” I said understandingly. It was a fleeting hope anway. “We could read them together.”

His eyes widened and a small blush graced his cheeks, “A-are you sure.”

“Of course. Reading alone can be fun, but sometimes it’s even better when you can share the experience with somepony else.” This was it, I had to be very careful from here on out. He’d extended a measure of trust to me, now I just needed to solidify that feeling, “In fact, it’s the best way to start getting to know a new friend.”

“F-friend?” he asked reservedly, but with a bit of hope twinkling in his eye. “You… want to be my friend? After all this?”

“The best of friends should want to know everything about each other, the good and the bad.” I put on the warmest grin I could possibly muster, “I’ve seen a lot of the bad, so now all that’s really left is the good, right?”

Venture matched my smile and gently pulled issue eleven out of its sleeve. He walked over to the couch, sat beside my head, and flipped the cover to the first page. In the dim blue of his horn’s magic, the first page was illuminated.

He cleared his throat, “The Power Ponies in Hypnotic Radiance Part II.”

“In this corner,” Venture read aloud, his voice higher pitched and nasally to emulate the announcer pony, “we have our challenger. Weighing in at pitiful one hundred twenty pounds of weak pony muscle, fillies and gentlecolts I give you the Saddle Rager.” The panel swapped over to a timid little pegasus standing in one corner of a large wrestling ring. A large crowd of wrestling-costumed henchponies began a chorus of boos.

The succeeding page showed the rest of the Power Ponies trapped in a cage dangling over a vat of highly acidic sports drink. Radiance glared down at the ring with a disapproving look. “Hmmph,” I continued reading in the haughty tone I always imagined she’d have. “What uncivilized ruffians have we become entangled with? Announcing a lady’s weight like that is so uncouth.”

“I think we have bigger problems than that, ponies,” Venture picked up, reading the Masked Matterhorns next line. “Saddle Rager can’t just transform whenever she wants to. Toro Toro will flatten her if she can’t.”

“Don’t worry, girls,” Venture continued, now reading the lines of the sidekick Hum Drum. “I know Saddle Rager won’t let us down.”

“Eh, even if she does,” I piped in, taking over the lines of Zapp, “I was getting kind of thirsty anyway.” She kicked a pebble from the cage and watched it dissolve in the green, bubbling vat below.

The perspective shifted back to the announcer in the ring, “And in this corner…” The lights of the arena dimmed, and a twin pair of spotlights began spanning across the warehouse the match was set to take place in. “We have our champion. Weighing in at an astonishing seven hundred and fifty pounds of pure, unadulterated muscle and brutality. The flattener of foes, the suplexer of superheroes, the dominator of demigods! I give you the one! The only! TORO TORO!”

The henchponies erupted in cheers as the spotlights came to rest on a curtain leading into the ring. The red cloth burst aside as an enormous minotaur sprinted through. He was decked out in full luchador gear, complete with a red and black mask that covered his face and horns. Toro Toro leapt into the ring and snatched the microphone away from the swooning announcer.

“How we all doing tonight!” the villain (Venture) shouted.

Another round of cheers answered him. Several speech bubbles piped in demands of, “Crush that puny pony,” and “Snap her in half,” and, “Have my babies, Toro Toro!”

“That’s good, that’s real good!” he continued. “I think we know why we’re all here, don’t we?!”

More shouts of encouragement rained down on him.

“My friends, we have travelled the globe taking on every single foe that dared think they could stand up to THIS!” Toro Toro hunched over and flexed, bulging out his muscles in a grotesque show of strength. It only further incensed the crowd.

“And now, all of that has led us here to Maretropolis where this-” he pointed toward the Saddle Rager, now shaking like a leaf in the opposite corner, “-weak, miserable little doormat thinks she can possibly stand up and run with this bull!” Toro Toro stalked over to the other end of the arena, shoving his face right down toward the pony.

“Any last words, tiny horse, before Toro Toro flattens you for the entertainment of these fine degenerates?” He pointed the microphone right at the trembling pony.

“U-um, hello everypony,” I whispered meekly. A cascade of boos and a hailstorm of trash and rotten produce pelted the Saddle Rager. “O-oh, please don’t do that. Littering is very harmful for the environment and-”

“I said!” Toro Toro interrupted. “Do. You. Have. Any. Last. Words?!” every panel punctuated the words with another flexing pose.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry,” Saddle Rager responded, clearing her throat. “I don’t want to fight you. We can resolve this peacefully if you just surrender now… if that’s alright.”

“Hmmm!” the minotaur mused mockingly. “That’s a really tempting offer.” He turned toward the crowd, “What do you all think?”

The entire warehouse erupted in boos and shouts of, “No,” and, “Coward!”

“Well there’s your answer,” Toro Toro stated pridefully. “And in case you were thinking about running away, here’s a little motivation.” He snapped his fingers and the cage containing the other Power Ponies instantly began to descend toward the sizzling sports drink.

“We got five minutes before that cage enters Toro Toro’s Super Enhancing Energy Slurp™, and your friends experience The Taste of Victory™,” he leaned toward her, a sneer plastered across his face. “So whattya have to say now?”

“Th-that stuff is… is…” Saddle Rager stammered before her face contorted in rage. “Poison for the environment!” she shouted. “You think you can just pick on anypony smaller than you?! That you can just kidnap anyone you want? Force anyone you want to fight you?” The text became more and more distorted and each panel began to focus on the swelling of Saddle Rager’s limbs and muscles as she grew. “Well I’ve got something to say about that!” the silhouette of the hero’s shadow fell across Toro Toro as his confident look deflated into shock.

Finally the panel shifted back to Saddle Rager. She now stood several feet taller than the minotaur, her muscles bulged to impossible dimensions, and her eyes turned a piercing red.

“WHY DON’T YOU PICK ON SOMEPONY YOUR OWN SIZE!” she roared, then leapt toward her opponent.

TO BE CONTINUED

“GODDESS-DAMMIT,” Venture and I shouted in unison.

“That’s seriously where it ends?” I whined.

“I know!” Venture agreed. “And that’s the last one the library had… the last one that I used to have! I thought, of all places, a fucking library would have the complete set!”

“So we can’t even find out what happens!”

“No!”

“Ugh!” I groaned, slamming my head back against the couch. “Comic book writers seriously needed to consider the world ending before making so many fucking cliffhangers.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Venture intoned as he slid the final issue back into its sleeve.

I didn’t even know how long it had been since we started reading. We started out taking turns reading pages aloud to each other, but eventually started talking about how we felt the characters would speak. Finally we decided on roles and read the corresponding characters, talking and laughing all the way.

It was… nice. I almost even forgot about everything else that had happened today, hell even since I’d arrived in the Wasteland. It was the most normal interaction I’d had with anypony in over a month.

And it was with Venture, somepony that had kidnapped me and killed Goddess knows how many ponies. But with every passing minute, I felt even more assured in my hypothesis. Venture could be treated. He could be my star patient. Now I just needed to find a way to show this off to the Enclave and everything could finally start-

A muffled, crackling noise pierced through the air. Venture locked gazes with me before we both looking up toward the ceiling. We found the noise was coming from an intercom speaker mounted on the ceiling.

“I… is… mmph… fucki…” buzzed through, then some of the static began to clear up. “Is that it? Is it on?” I heard Whiskey’s voice come through.

“Yeah,” Cracks’s distant voice answered. “I re-routed some of the life support system’s power, but it won’t last long. So hurry up!”

“Alright, alright. We got it from here, now get goin’.” Whiskey answered in a hushed whisper. Then he raised his voice to a fairly gruff and menacing tone. “Now you listen here, fuck face. I know you can hear me. Now we know you got our doctor, and… and I saw what you did to my lil girl. Needless to say, I’m a bit put off by that. If I had things my way, I’d be mountin’ your head on my Goddess-damned mantle before the day was done. But for the good o’ the rest o’ my people, I’m willin’ to look past that. I don’t know what it is you’re plannin’, but here’s the deal. I propose a lil bit o’ trade. If the Doc’s still alive, we want her back. You give her up, and I don’t feed all these creepy fuckin’ dolls o’ yours into this real nice, industrial shredder down here in maintenance.”

“He… he wouldn’t,” Venture whispered, horror stricken across his face.

… dolls?

“You got ten minutes to get down here. You take the dolls, then tell us where the Doc is. When we know she’s safe, we all walk outta this with our hides intact. Hear me? Ten minutes.”

The intercom fizzled, then went quiet again.

“Fuck,” Venture whispered, then whirled around began slamming his hooves against the desk. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” He glanced around the room spied the fallen pistol and holstered it before walking toward the door.

“Venture, wait,” I began. “What’s going on?”

“He figured out!” he snapped angrily. “They found out about… about my family.”

“Family?” I questioned. “But I thought you were alone down here.”

“I am… I mean I’m not… I mean… ugh,” he groaned. “It’s hard to explain, but-”

He paused and got that look from before, like he was listening to somepony else talk. “No!” he shouted. “I know it sounds crazy, but-” Pause, “Maybe she’ll understand if I just-” Pause, “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” he screamed as he banged his hooves against his head. “STOP FUCKING TALKING!”

“Venture, who’s talking to you?” I asked.

“Koe!” he shouted. “This fucking asshole can’t just leave me alone for five minutes!”

“Koe?” I continued. “Venture, who is Koe? Nopony else is here.”

“I know that! It’s just… I can’t… it’s a long story alright?” he finished frustratedly. He turned back toward the door, “I’ll… I’ll be back soon, ok?”

“Venture, please wait,” I begged. “I don’t think you can trust Whiskey. Not after… “

“Not after I killed his daughter,” Venture finished bluntly.

“Yes,” I agreed. “So we both know what’s going to happen. Please, we can’t let this end in more violence. We can fix this, talk this out.”

“No, we can’t,” Venture deadpanned. “Stay here.”

“I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of choice in the matter-”

The door sliding shut interrupted me as the unmistakable clunk of heavy locks echoed through the air. Stomping hoofsteps faded into the distance and I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“First session notes,” I mused to myself. “Patient is somewhat uncooperative.”

I waited in silence, not sure how much time was passing. It might have been an hour, or ten minutes. I was never one for waiting patiently. Not since that one time when Sprinkle Shoes blamed me for spilling the glitter glue back in magic kindergarten. Our teacher had made me wait in the corner for ten. Whole. Minutes.

It was so long.

This was bad. Venture needed help, real help. Even if Whiskey was telling the truth, something I doubted for some reason, this wasn’t what he needed. Locking himself back up in this place would only make his condition worse. He’d either have a complete psychological break, leave on his own, and wreak Goddess knows what havoc on the Wasteland, or he’d starve to death. The latter was probably the best he or anypony else could hope for.

Venture was my first test, I just knew it. If I could prove that somepony like him could be treated, then the rest of the Enclave would have no choice but to help my project. Battalions of psychologists could start making their way to the wasteland, clinics could be set up, and, with the minds of the Wasteland’s populace healed, we could start making real headway toward fixing our world.

A noise came from outside the door. I sucked in a breath, waiting to see who was going to make it back. A tinkling of metal began to ring out, a couple snapping sounds, and muffled cursing. Finally, the door sprang open and Cracks hurried inside.

“Doc? Doc, you in here?” she whispered to the darkness.

“Here!” I shouted excitedly before the other mare dashed toward me and slapped a hoof over my mouth.

“Quiet,” she hissed. “You want that psycho coming right back here? Get your shit together, girl.”

“Sorry,” I whispered. “His name is Venture, by the way.”

Cracks gave me a deadpan look, “Excuse me?”

“His name is Venture, not psycho,” I clarified. “Psycho is a very hurtful term to use on somepony suffering from very real mental issues and-”

“Well I regret to inform you that I could not give less of a fuck,” she responded, dumbfounded at my comment.

She levitated over a bobby pin and a screwdriver. The latter was inserted into the padlock on the chains binding me, and the former began slowly circling its perimeter. Within a few seconds, the lock sprang open and the chains slithered to the floor.

Oddly enough, chains do not make the best blankets. I tried to stand, but it felt like I’d just done ten sets on a bench press using every muscle my body had. I very quickly followed the chains to the floor.

“No time for screwing around, Doc,” Cracks whispered as she pushed me up. She glanced around the room before spying the terminal on the desk. “Ha, jackpot.”

She jumped into the chair and started passing her hooves over the keyboard, “Damn, little more security on this one. It’ll take me a minute to crack into this.” Cracks looked back over at me as I finally righted myself. “So here’s the plan. Whiskey and Riveter are gonna take care of the psycho. The old bastard's got a real hard murder-boner going, so he’ll probably get the job done. However, failing that, our job is to find out where the Protocol X shutdown is and get the front door open. We meet up with the others or, if they’re dead, just get our asses outta here. Our choice I guess. Also, Crosshair and North Star got their asses roasted, so we don’t need to worry about them.”

“Wait, what!” I cried, but quieted down when Cracks put her hoof against her mouth. “That’s a hell of an afterthought,” I hissed.

“Eh, shit happens,” Cracks shrugged. “Now hop on the admin terminal out there. I already broke in, so just look through it and see if you can find a way to get the power back on. I’ll work on getting into this one.”

“O-ok, got it,” I stuttered before making my way outside.

Two more? Two more ponies were dead because of Venture? This was getting worse and worse every minute. Could I really do this? Help somepony who could so easily and callously take another’s life? Did I really want to?

Regardless, it wouldn’t matter much if we were all still stuck in the dark. I sat at the smaller desk outside and was greeted by a few lines of text.

‘Morning Announcements’

‘Stable Roster’

‘Cafeteria Schedule’

‘Book Checkout Due Date Database’

‘Resident Checkout Blacklist (Use Only In Case of Extreme Mishandling of Books!!!)’

‘Messages [0]’

‘URGENT MESSAGES [1]’

‘Stable System Functions’

I was about to click the functions tab, but something about the option preceding it caught my eye. Who had sent an urgent message? Why wasn’t it checked? I really shouldn’t, but my curiosity started to burn. Besides, I justified, maybe it had something to do with the shutdown. That would be urgent, right?

I tabbed down to the option and confirmed. Immediately a password screen opened.

‘By Order of Stable-Tec Leadership, This Message Box is For the Viewing of the Stable 42 Administrator Only (No Overmare Access Granted)’

‘Please Enter Admin Password:’

I gulped. Cracks had given me a few tutorials on breaking into terminals, so I guess it was time to give it a real shot. I didn’t have a Pipbuck, but she had given me a small, portable drive with her favorite hacking program installed on it. After plugging it in and launching the program, an enormous list of various characters filled the screen with several words dotted in between. I gulped when I realized it was an eight-character password. Far more than I’d ever had success opening before.

No time for doubt now, I thought.

>‘OVERMARE’

>‘Entry Denied’

>’1/8 Correct’

I guess that would be too easy. I tried several others, meeting similar measures of success. I followed the hints provided to me ‘3/8 Correct, 5/8 Correct,’ until finally, on my last available try, the machine chimed its approval and granted access.

> ‘FOALFREE’

Huh, interesting. I gazed at my prize, a single, blinking message addressed to the administrator, and the sender seemed to come from Stable-Tec corporate. I clicked it open.

Featherweight,

There is no way I’ll ever be able to express my gratitude to you for helping us out with this. I know you had loftier goals for your role in Stable-Tec, maybe even taking on one of the few Overstallion positions yourself. But, in my opinion, these installations are far more important than almost any others we’ve created. The very least I can do for you now is provide an answer, hopefully one that will satisfy your curiosity as to why this one is not yours.

First off, Applebloom, Sweetie Bell, and I are all well aware of how competent you would be as an Overstallion, never forget that. The Education Initiative was born out of financial necessity, nothing more. The accountants are constantly banging down my door, yelling at us that we can’t afford to build another toilet, nonetheless three more fully equipped Stables. I won’t lie to you, funds are running out. There was no way in Tartarus that we’d be able to apply for a loan, not with the entire Equestrian financial sector controlled by Luna’s government. I don’t need to tell you how much she despises us.

That’s why we turned to the Ministries. They’re somewhat autonomous and, if the rumors are true, this wouldn’t be the first time any of them did something without exactly asking for Luna’s blessing. Twilight and the Ministry of Arcane Sciences were the obvious choice. When she learned we wanted to create an entire series of Stables dedicated to preserving knowledge, she looked about twenty years younger. I hadn’t seen her that happy since before the war.

But she had her conditions, the most important that you need to know of is she wanted to hoofpick the Overmares, no negotiations. We begrudgingly agreed, but, while we hate to go behind her back, the prospects for an experiment are too great to leave this place as a control. That’s where you come in. Whoever is chosen as Overmare may operate the day-to-day functions, but the success of the experiment here is entirely in your hooves. The functions for activating a system called the Eraser Deployment System (as well as the Protocol X emergency power shutdown) are all installed on this terminal. Opening this message will have unlocked the option in the Stable System Functions. It will be up to you to decide when it is enacted.

You’re probably wondering what that experiment is, and I regret we could never talk about it in person. You never know who is listening these days. The idea is simple, and we need only look to history to see why this experiment is so important. The Great Library of Alexhandria was thought to be the greatest collection of Equine knowledge of its day. When it was burned by invading forces almost two thousand years ago, the age of progress and knowledge those ponies had known came to an end almost overnight. Centuries of ignorance and regression took hold, the entire continent devolving into superstitious and fanatical beliefs. Some were derived from real knowledge, but perverted and warped to fit the agendas of those smart enough to control the masses.

That is exactly what we wish to re-enact in Stable 42. If the world as we know it comes to an end, future generations will need as much data as possible to combat what will happen when all known knowledge and history is wiped out. The other two installations that are part of this initiative have their own experiments to cover.

Believe me, we know how this sounds, and what it would do to Twilight if she knew what we were planning. But we can’t let hurt feelings get in the way of progress. This is data we NEED to have, it will be invaluable should the worst come to pass.

Wait as long as you feel is necessary, probably a few decades when the first generation born to the Stable have had their chance to learn what this installation has to offer. Then, when the time is right, activate the EDS and wipe that knowledge out. Failsafes are in place to stop any digital backups that are attempted. After that, we count on you and any others you may see fit to inform to continue this work should anything happen to you. I know it will hurt, especially after all that time you sought the truth at that newspaper we ran when we were kids. But I trust that you realize what’s at stake here.

Thank you again. Good luck.

Scootaloo

I sat back in the chair, breathing a heavy sigh from that letter. Is this really what the Stables had all been about? Running wild experiments on the inhabitants to learn what would happen at the end of the world? The inhabitants of these Stables were here to protect themselves from that. The word ‘control’ hinted that some of these installations were free from this experimentation, and Stable-Tec would pick and choose who would learn how to bring the world back, and who would be the example to learn from. Some detached, unemotional part of me could see some logic in the thinking, but to actually do it? That was insane.

But they were insane times. These ponies knew that their entire way of life could be wiped out in an instant, and preparing their citizenry for that possible outcome would have to have been on at least a few pony’s minds. A very dour thing to foresee, but obviously they were right to think about it. The ponies behind Stable-Tec must have truly believed the ends justified the means. Even still, I shuddered to think of what other schemes they had cooked up for the dozens of other shelters dotted around the country.

“Hey!” Cracks snapped from inside the Overmare’s office, drawing me out of my historical musings. “You got anything yet? We’re on a bit of time crunch here.”

“N-not yet,” I stammered, panickedly backing out of the message. I’d almost completely forgotten about my task. Once again I began to peruse the lines of text, this time clicking my way into the ‘Stable Functions’ tab.

Inside was a menagerie of different options. From scheduled lighting functions, to automated food production, announcement systems, and even prerecorded lullabies to play through the nursery PA system. Finally, at the very bottom of the list, the option ‘Emergency Power Protocols’ was listed. Clicking on it instantly brought up a warning message:

Warning: Eraser Deployment System is now primed. Protocol X Emergency Shutdown highly recommended before activation. All Stable residents should return to their quarters before EDS activation. Failure to do so may result in unintended fatalities.

Below the message listed two options:

Protocol X Emergency Shutdown (Active)

Eraser Deployment System (Inactive)

I tabbed down to the first, my hoof hovering above the enter key, but paused. Turning the lights back on was absolutely what I wanted, to bring some level of normalcy back to this whole fucked up situation. We could get the Stable door back open, regroup with the others, and finally get out of this hellhole.

All it would cost was Venture’s life.

I knew getting the lights back on would basically be signing his death warrant. Without the element of surprise, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Whiskey and Riveter and-

Was I really considering this? Helping him meant that Whiskey and the others might… die. They weren’t exactly my friends, but they certainly hadn’t done anything to hurt me. What the hell was wrong with me? After everything that had happened, everything he’d done? Cracks, Whiskey, Tumbler, all of them had been completely innocent in all of this. Venture was the bad guy, wasn’t he?

I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. That young stallion regaling me about his favorite superheroes with such passion and fervor in his eyes. Holding their tales of selfless heroism as such an intrinsic part of who he was, and what must have happened to him to drive him so far from that path. Regardless of how badly I wanted to compartmentalize him and be done with it, I couldn’t justify to myself that Venture was evil. Like such a frustratingly large amount of things in this Goddess-forsaken Wasteland, it wasn’t that black and white. He was sick, disturbed beyond belief, but not evil.

What the fuck was I supposed to do? How could I even begin to think about treating somepony in a place like this? It wasn’t exactly the most conducive environment for addressing the sort of mental damage Venture had obviously endured. Maybe… maybe a quick death was the more merciful choice.

“Yo Doc!” Cracks shouted. “What in Luna’s holy tits are you doing out there?”

I was about to answer, when the echo of distant gunfire did so for me. The heavy thumps and rapid cracks sounded like a violent thunderstorm. My stomach dropped as the sounds grew faster and more fervent, continuing on with what seemed like no end in sight.

“Sounds like the party’s kicking off,” Cracks mused. “That psycho is in for it now.”

Why oh why did she have to put it like that? I didn’t know what I was going to do as far as treating him, or even what the next few minutes would entail, but my mind grew calm and resolute. I knew what I needed to do right now. The others would have none of it, I knew that too, but this was the right thing to do.

Some logical voice in the back of my mind whispered of this being for the greater good, that successfully treating Venture would force the Enclave’s hoof toward realizing the denizens of the Wasteland were a far cry from the lost cause the pegasi believed them to be. If it meant the deaths of a few more ponies, then maybe that sacrifice was well worth the cost.

I shook that dark thought from my mind and paged down to the second option on the screen. I had no idea what this system was designed to do, but Venture was obviously a survivor. It just might provide the distraction he would need to get away. If not, well it’s not like things would have turned out a whole lot different for him.

Eraser Deployment System (Active)