Content Warning: This chapter contains a scene that may be disturbing to some readers. For those wishing to skip this scene, I will include a symbol (#####) after the paragraphs preceding and following it.

Fallout Equestria: Insanity's Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 2: Voices

"I find it frightening - to awaken and be unsure if everything you remember about life not being just part of a dream. Waking means I've slept, and sleep dissolves what certainty I have left.”

Fifteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

The warmth of the morning sun bathed my bed in golden light, pleasantly heating the blankets embracing me. My feather pillow felt like a cloud, and it was doing a fine job in convincing me that waking up could wait just a few more minutes.

A mare’s voice outside the door had other plans. “Venture, sweetheart, it’s time to get up.”

“Mrrumf,” I grunted back, pulling the soft cotton over my head.

“Come on now, don’t make me have to start singing,” a mock threatening tone entered her speech, and she elongated the last word in a sing-songy voice.

“Mrrmf… five more minutes,” I mumbled, further securing myself within the blankets piled on top of me.

“Ok, you asked for it,” she responded as I heard the door swing open. The sound of somepony drawing in a large breath resounded throughout the room. I grasped a pillow near me and pulled it around my ears in anticipation.

“Good morning, good morning,” she began. The sweet melody that was her voice hammered against my post-waking stupor, “The sun has risen high.”

“Good morning, good morning,” the covers were yanked off of me, and the pillow was plucked out of my grasp, “It's time to rise, don't be shy.”

“Good morning, good morning,” she began to increase in volume, and the clop of her hooves boomed like a drum on the oak floor, “Open your eyes, let's not delay.”

“Good morning, good morning.”

“Time to get up and greet the…” the singing trailed off, and I felt the warmth of a magical aura surrounding me, lifting my sluggish form into the air and gently peeling open my eyes.

“Day,” she finished, drawing out the last word in a mellow whisper as she pulled me close, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

The unicorn in front of me was stunning. Her tidily brushed mane flowed along her back in a brilliant, deep purple and periwinkle sheen. Her royal blue coat managed a healthy glow in the morning sun, and the matching eyes shimmered like facets on a fine diamond. A deep pink heart adorned her flank, struck through with a wavy, purple eighth-note. Nightlife was, truly, a mare to behold.

“Ok, mom, I’m up,” I slurred sleepily, trying to hide my eyes from the brightness assaulting them. I took a quick look around my room, seeing the small and ever-so inviting bed sitting unmade behind me. The rest of the space was standard fare for a ten year old: a number thirty-one Hoofington Reapers jersey hung in its frame, several event posters for The Wonderbolts had been plastered on the walls, and a giant panoramic depiction of Maretropolis hung above the bed. The six forms of the Power Ponies were illuminated by a skylight, and shown keeping watchful eye over the cityscape beneath them.

The floor was littered with various empty plates, dirty cups, toys and books. In fact, the only part of the room in any sort of order was a shelf beside the large, round window. Sealed in plastic sleeves, all twenty-four issues of Power Ponies were displayed lovingly beside each other. That entire portion of the room was meticulously clean of any dust or debris, and every comic looked brand new.

Turning back toward the smiling mare, I gave her a grumpy scowl until she let out a small laugh and lowered me back down to the floor.

“What’s the deal, mom?” I asked accusingly. “Why did you have to wake me up so early?”

The smile only widened as her eyes narrowed mysteriously.

“You mean you don’t remember?” a look of fake hurt crossed her features, whilst a hoof raised in front of her heart.

“Remember what?” I sputtered back, frustration and confusion pervading my words.

“Or... could I have forgotten to tell you?” she gasped questioningly. Her hoof rose to beneath her chin as she seemed to mull something over.

“Tell me what?!” I almost shouted, reigning myself in at the last second. I loved my mom, but she had a pretty frustrating sense of humor sometimes.

“Well, if we’re going to be raising our voices, maybe I should just head over to the skyport alone,” she stated huffily.

“Wait,” I did shout, “why would we go to the skyp-...” I cut myself off as I put two and two together. “Dad?”

The smile returned as she nodded.

“Dad’s home?!” I shouted in glee as I leapt back onto my mattress, bouncing on the creaky springs as a warm radiance swelled inside me.

“Ok, ok, calm down,” Nightlife spoke comfortingly, plucking me off the bed with her magic once again.

“But I thought dad’s deployment wasn’t ending for another month,” I asked, after settling back down on the ground.

“After you went to bed last night, we got word that his unit is coming back today, and I thought it would make a nice little morning surprise,” she turned back toward the door. “So get ready and come down for breakfast, we’ll leave as soon as you’re done.”

Once she was out of sight, I jumped on the mattress a few more times before turning toward a poster on my wall. Five Wonderbolts all stood at attention in their blue and yellow uniforms, saluting off into the distance. The closest was a steel-gray buck with a deep red mane. I touched the shiny paper, drawing my hoof down the pegasus’s form. An ornate placard was printed beneath each pony, and the one under the buck read, “Sergeant Fire Storm.”

“I missed you dad,” I whispered quietly.

After a quick mane and teeth brushing, I raced down to the kitchen. The smell of freshly-made pancakes permeated the air.

The small room was painted a warm yellow, and had oaken cabinets on each wall. A big bay window, set in the breakfast nook, let in the morning light. On the wall beside the table hung a framed family photo from our trip to Horseshoe Bay last year. It showed me sitting on my dad’s shoulders, laughing as we all walked down the beach. Mom was smushing an ice cream cone into the gray buck’s muzzle.

Waiting for me on the table was a huge stack of fluffy, golden treats, drizzled with syrup, whipped cream, and fresh berries. As much as I enjoyed savoring mom’s cooking, there simply wasn’t time today. Without any utensils, I beset upon breakfast, shoveling sweet mouthfuls of gooey pancake down my throat.

“Woah, woah,” Nightlife called as she entered the room, “slow down, honey.”

“Can’t,” I responded quickly, trying to overcome the annoying physical limitations of my jaw.

Mom giggled softly as she took her own seat at the table, a steaming cup of coffee and an apple floating gently beside her. “Well, at least use your utensils.”

I sighed, annoyed at the interruption as I reached my hooves toward the fork and knife set beside me.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Nightlife chided as she motioned toward my horn.

Nodding with understanding, I knitted my brow in concentration as the cutlery lifted into the air and dived into the dwindling stack of pancakes. The knife smoothly slid across each portion while the fork nimbly brought it to my mouth, allowing me to make short work of the remaining pastries.

“Very good, sweety,” Nightlife said approvingly, “Celestia’s school will be so lucky to have you.”

I beamed from the compliment. It’d been a rough road trying to get me accepted into Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and I was almost past the cutoff age. My parents had told me that the rising tensions with the zebras had all but stopped any new applicants from being accepted to a royal facility. Luckily, through dad’s military status and mom’s connections in the royal music circles, we’d finally received my acceptance letter the day before Fire Storm had been sent on deployment.

It’d been six months since then.

Mom didn’t seem too keen on discussing what it was, exactly, that dad and the rest of The Wonderbolts had been sent to do. We were both worried about him, each scrap of news we heard on the radio only deepening our concern. Every day it was another failed peace conference, rejection of new trade sanctions, or any number of minor conflicts erupting between ponies and zebras.

Rumors of some impending, major outbreak of violence was the hot topic of Equestria, and the talk was only exacerbated from the kidnapping several months ago. A group of ponies had been taken by zebra pirates, and it seemed incredibly unlikely for the conflict to come to a peaceful end. The zebra’s Caesar appeared to be trying to help rescue them, but was refusing any talk of Equestrian forces entering zebra lands.

The whole state of affairs just confused me. Why wouldn’t we want to work together with the zebras, and what did they have against us? I knew a few, and they all seemed to be pretty nice folk. It always seemed like adults had to fight over everything these days, and nopony would even say why. Every inquiry I made was just met with, ‘You’ll understand when you’re older,’ but it all seemed crystal clear to me. The zebras were our friends, and if you did something to upset your friends, you apologized and moved on. Why did everypony need to make things so complicated?

As the final bites of pancake disappeared into my mouth, I raced toward the door, staring expectantly at Nightlife. She gave a warm smile before swallowing the final bites of apple, and setting her empty mug back on the table.

“Ok, ok, we’re going. But you’re cleaning this up when we get home.”

I nodded enthusiastically. As much as I despised it, not even the threat of dish duty could smother my excitement.

Nightlife lifted an incredibly ornate, Rarity-branded sunhat onto her head before moving toward me. I was practically vibrating in anticipation. Summer was almost over, but at least I’d get to have dad back for a little while before I left for school.

Just as her purple aura surrounded the knob, a thundering knock sounded from the door.

My excitement overflowed, dad must have come home on his own. Mouth agape in a huge grin, I turned back toward mom.

She looked confused, but cautiously nodded and motioned me forward. My own blue magic encompassing the knob, I twisted it and threw the door open, ready to pounce into my dad’s outstretched hooves.

Captain Spitfire and First Lieutenant Soarin both stood at the door. Their usual Wonderbolts attire was replaced with somber, purple dress-uniforms. The Captain also sported a pair of reflective sunglasses.

I took a few steps back, my smile transforming into an expression of awe. I'd only ever seen the two senior Wonderbolts during air shows, never had I met them in person. Dad always talked about what an honor serving under these two had been, and that reverence he'd shown now struck me into stupefied silence.

But where was he?

My mental image of the two powerful pegasi was shaken slightly as I noticed their morbid expressions, and the shimmering remains of tears near the edge of the Lieutenant's eyes.

"Hey there kid," the sky-blue buck began, his voice cracking slightly as he extended a hoof. I slowly grasped it, returning the shake.

"You must be the great Venture that... S-Storm is always going on about. It's nice to finally meet you. Is your... is your mom home?" His composure was breaking down, sending a jolt of worry coursing through me.

I nodded silently before pushing the door wide open and revealing Nightlife. Her look of confusion only deepened when she saw who was at the door, though concern etched itself into her features as well.

“Spitfire, Soarin, how are you both?” Mom asked cautiously.

“Just fine, Nightlife,” the golden mare piped in, her gruff voice sounding calm and collected. “Do you think there might be a place we can talk,” she spared a glance down at me, “alone?”

“Sure,” mom responded as she turned toward me. “Sweetheart, do you think you can run up to your room for a little while?”

"But mom-"

"No buts," she cut me off sternly. "I'll come get you when we're done, but I have to talk to the Captain and Lieutenant first."

“O-ok mom,” I stuttered, the heavy weight of dread settling in my stomach. What was going on? Where was dad? Was he ok? Why didn’t they want me in the room? Dozens of questions were racing through my mind, but the seriousness in mom’s voice told me that I wouldn’t get her to budge.

I settled myself at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, but with a clear view of the pink living room as the three ponies settled in. Mom took a seat on our brown, beat-up old easy chair, while the two Wonderbolts both sank into a hideously green couch. Nightlife may have had one of Equestria's most beloved voices, but her decorating talent was sorely lacking.

Soarin began to speak in a hushed whisper, only a few words loud enough for me to catch. Spitfire had adopted a stoic look, and even continued to wear the sunglasses after settling in.

“... top secret… pirates… no zebra support,” he went on, the few words I picked up not making any sense. “... took a risk… complications… bad intel…”

A look of horrified realization fell across my mother’s face, and both of her front hooves crossed over her mouth.

“He saved a lot of lives, including mine… won’t be in vain… hero... so sorry… here for whatever you need, I promise.”

Concluding his speech, Soarin motioned toward Spitfire. The serious mare reached into a briefcase they’d brought along and withdrew a triangularly folded piece of light-blue cloth. It was adorned with stars and the images of Celestia and Luna swirling around each other. With reverence, she placed the flag on her front hooves and extended them toward mom.

Nightlife broke.

That was the only way I could think to describe it as she fell to the carpet, smacked the flag out of Spitfire’s grasp, and clutched at the two, her wails filling the house. His own resolve failing, Soarin also collapsed, holding mom tightly as the sounds of anguish arose from the huddled ponies.

Terror rampaged through me. I’d never seen mom acting like this and, whatever Soarin had told her, transformed my concern for dad into complete horror. The pieces began to fall into place, but I shook the thought out of my head.

It couldn't be true.

After a few minutes of sobbing, the Wonderbolt gradually rose, bringing mom back to her hooves as he did. Spitfire was the first to speak, now audibly enough for me to hear.

“There are preparations that need to be made, Nightlife, and it’s going to take a while. Is there anypony that Venture can stay with while you’re away?”

“M-my… my sister,” mom choked out. “Cloudy Dreams… in Canterlot.”

“Ok,” Soarin added, “we’ll make sure he gets to her. I know it’s sudden, but we really should get going.”

She nodded slightly, raucous sobs convulsing her body every few seconds. Nightlife trotted up the stairs, spying me as she mounted the top step.

“Mom,” I asked cautiously, “where’s dad?”

She didn’t say anything, just drew me into a tight, shaking hug. I could feel her tears spattering against the back of my neck as she held me. My own began streaming down my cheeks as I finally accepted the facts in front of me.

Dad wasn’t coming home.

The two of us clutched desperately at each other, letting the horrible truth hang in the air as we grasped at our final, living reminders of Sergeant Fire Storm.

After what seemed an eternity, Nightlife drew her head back and tried to plaster on a reassuring smile. “It’s ok, baby,” she cooed softly as the sobs continued to wrack my body. She began running a hoof comfortingly through my mane, “Everything’s gonna be ok.”

She pushed my head back, meeting my tear-filled eyes, “Alright?”

I nodded, tremors still coursing through me.

“Ok, mommy needs you to be strong now and go with the Captain and Lieutenant. They’re gonna take you to see your aunt. You remember her, right?”

I nodded again, but pressed my muzzle into Nightlife’s soft coat, muffling the anguished cries that escaped my throat.

“Shhh,” Nightlife shushed me, running her hoof along my back. “It’s ok sweetheart, let it out.”

Time dragged on as I buried myself in mom’s chest. The torrential storm of thoughts running through my mind blurred my concentration to white noise. My teeth chattered and numbed as the sobs wracking me quieted to a gentle croak. Finally, only fitful coughs escaped me as tears and mucus trailed down around my face.

Mom pulled a piece of soft white cloth out of a nearby drawer and wiped it gently across my stained cheeks. She dried the tears pouring from my eyes, before placing the hanky across my nose and prompting me to blow. When I could compose myself to an acceptable level, mom gently set me back on the ground. “Now,” she began, “I need you to go downstairs and wait with Soarin and Spitfire while I go get us packed.”

“Ok,” I croaked, wiping tears from my eyes.

I moved toward the staircase, but felt the comforting aura of Nightlife’s magic surround me, pulling me into another hug. This time it seemed less a desperate grasp, and more like the loving embraces I was used to receiving.

“Mommy loves you more than anything, you know that right?” she asked, her eyes sealed shut as she held me.

“I… I know mom. I l-love you too.”

She tried smiling again before releasing me and gesturing back down the stairs. As I reached the ground floor, I saw the two Wonderbolts standing stiffly by the front door. Moving toward them, the thoughts running through my mind felt muddied and sluggish, mirroring my gait as I approached.

Both pegasi looked like they wanted to say something, but appeared to think better of it. I didn’t mind, what could they say? Dad was gone, mom and I were alone. Nothing else mattered.

A couple awkward seconds passed before the golden mare cleared her throat, “You know, your dad was under my command since he was first accepted into The Wonderbolts. Now I’ve seen a lot of trainees come through our camps, but I can count on my hooves how many have shown his level of determination and promise. It was an honor to serve alongside him.”

I didn’t say anything, just continued analyzing the various imperfections in the hardwood floor.

“And he never stopped talking about you,” she continued, “I swear, he’d be bragging about your first horn drawings like you’d just done a Sonic Rainboom. He was so proud."

She adopted a contemplative look, "I guess what I’m trying to say is Fire Storm was one of the best ponies I ever served with, and he saved a lot of lives doing what he did. That's just the kind of pony he was. Brave, daring, loyal, but also so humble, never wanted to talk about his own accomplishments. To him, they may as well have been getting out of bed in the morning, but your’s? He thought the world of you, and knew that you would amount to great things.”

I felt a hoof under my chin as she raised my gaze to meet hers. She lowered the sunglasses to the tip of her nose, revealing a trail of shining tears falling from her stoic gaze.

“I don’t want to sound too presumptuous, but I can see the same spark in your eyes. I think he was ri-.”

A cracking boom resounded throughout the house, cutting off Spitfire and forcing all of our attentions upstairs.

“Oh no,” Soarin whispered breathlessly, his eyes widening in horror.

“Mom!” I shrieked as I bounded toward the stairs. Calls for me to wait sounded from the pegasi behind me, but I was already halfway up the steps before they even began to react.

I galloped down the hallway, praying that I was wrong about the source of the sound, that there might be some other explanation. I burst into my parent’s room, and collapsed in shock at the scene before me.

Nightlife lay on the bed, one of dad’s service revolvers beside her. My mother’s eyes were wide open, the remains of tears still streaming down her face. A fountainous bloom of deep crimson stained the purple accent wall behind her. The creeping cascade of blood dripped down, staining the white blankets. A piece of paper was clutched in her front hooves, both of which she’d crossed over her chest.

I sat there, stunned. My mind felt like it was simultaneously grinding to a halt, and moving faster than ever before. The beating in my chest rose to a crescendo, letting me feel the pulsing in my throat. I could feel a subtle twitching throughout my left eye, and the air filled with a high pitched whine. The horrified gasps from the pegasi entering the room sounded muffled and distant. Then, as if all at once, it hit me.

“Mom!” I cried out, leaping onto the soiled bedspread and wrapping my hooves around the corpse. “Mom, please… p-please wake up. You said… you said w-we had to be strong. I… I c-can’t be strong without you. Please, just wake up. Wake up!”

The words tumbling from my mouth made less and less sense as I went on. I could feel the presences of the two Wonderbolts behind me, but I ignored them. My mind was completely overrun with grief as I wailed into Nightlife's coat, praying to Luna and Celestia alike to wake me from this nightmare.

“I’ll always… get up when you want me to, I won’t complain about chores, I’ll practice when you tell me to, you can sing as much as you want just… please,” I begged.

“Please wake up.”

Don’t leave me.

The cool stone of the cavern floor was the first sensation to become apparent to me, quickly followed by the torturous burning of suffocation.

My eyes shot open, and I desperately tried to pull in a breath. A gentle wisp trailed down my throat, quickly followed by the feeling of a hot iron piercing my chest. I tried to gasp for air, but each attempt was merely smacked down by the overwhelming pain assaulting me. After several attempts, a small, steady supply began to fill my lungs, and I rolled onto my side. Barely audible chokes passed my lips, and a warm, metallic-tasting stream poured from the side of my mouth.

As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I immediately wished I’d kept them shut. Just a few inches away from me lay the silhouette of Lullaby.

I tried to push myself further from the corpse, desperate to not reawaken the debilitating horror that ran alongside the memory. I managed a few inches before my legs slipped in a cool, slippery liquid, collapsing me back to the floor. With few options left, I closed my eyes again and was left alone with my thoughts.

At first I pondered the dream, and how I’d never experienced one that vivid and lifelike. It felt less like some random assortment of imagined imagery, and more like a distant memory that I’d forgotten until just now. The excitement felt from the prospect of a father returning from war, the taste of a home cooked meal, and even the earth shattering event of losing both parents in one devastating swoop all felt like situations I’d experienced before. But how was that possible? Everything in the dream seemed so serene, so peaceful. Not only that, the colt I’d envisioned was talking and thinking like the problems facing Equestria were just starting, like everything I’d just seen was somehow in the past.

It was almost too insane to consider. Granted, the trauma I’d been put through these last few days was unlike anything I’d ever endured before, and I’d always had an overactive imagination. Could this just be how my mind was reacting to all I’d been put through, or perhaps everything I’d done?

That realization shattered the importance of my musing, turning my attention toward the past day’s events, and the horrifying nature of the crimes I’d committed. I’d failed. Failed in the most appalling of ways. Somepony had entrusted me with not only their life, but also those of their family and what had I done? Stood idly by as a filly watched her father executed, and then killed her mother to save my own life. I’d been selfish and cowardly, more concerned with my own well being than helping others. How could I possibly justify my fantasies of being some kind of hero?

I was a monster.

I wanted to scream, to cry, anything but lie in a pool of my victim’s blood and await my own death to ferry me on way.

A choked gasp escaped my lips as that grim thought began to register. I wasn’t ready to die.

In Oasis, death is so common it practically becomes routine, and yet I’d thought so little about my own mortality. I’d always assumed that growing up was the bare minimum of what I’d experience in this life, but here it was. The pain unleashed at every movement, the irregular beating of my heart, and the chilling wrongness my body reported all pointed toward the end of my life fast approaching.

But I was just a kid, kids weren’t supposed to die. Kids were supposed to make friends, play games, go to school and come home to loving families. While it wasn’t like I was doing much of that anyway, that’s the picture my books always painted. Beyond that, what even awaited me on the other side?

My thoughts travelled back to my final moments with Cinnamon Dash, and the words I’d used to try and comfort her. They were easy enough to say, but knowing the full extent of my sins cast a shadow of doubt over that assurance. Was it possible to seek redemption after what I’d done? To what limits did the Goddess’ mercy extend, and did I even deserve it?

A single hot tear ran down my cheek as I began to pray. Please, Celestia, forgive me. I'm so scared, I don’t wanna die. I'm not ready. I just want-

My pleas were interrupted by the sound of shrieking metal and a blinding light filled the cavern. I cried, or more accurately croaked, out in pain as I desperately tried to shield my eyes.

A few moments of strained blinking began to clear my vision, giving me a clear look at Lullaby. The brown earth pony had one cyan eye opened wide, whilst the other still hung from a tangle of pink nerves. The blood pouring from her impacted skull had all but abated, but not before the pool had encompassed us both.

Bullwhip’s voice filled the cavern, “Incredible, ain’t it?”

With my final reserves of strength, I heaved against the cavern floor and managed to flop over onto my back. I stared up through the open hatch, and found the orange slaver beaming down at me.

“The depths that ponies will stoop to in order to taste freedom again,” he paused as he glanced at the body beside me, “or win it for those they love. I gotta say, she jumped mighty quick at the opp’rtunity I offered, even when I told her what she’d need to do.”

A rope ladder suddenly dropped from the edge of the hole before Bullwhip grabbed hold and descended down into the cavern. He walked slowly over to me, towering over my prostrate form, and never losing that smile.

“Are ya startin’ to get it?” he asked before beginning a slow walk around me. “I wanted to show you that it don’t matter what you do for somepony, they’ll always be lookin’ out for number one. There ain’t no place for heroics in the wasteland, it’s all about survival.” He spared another glance at Lullaby, “You can fight as hard as you want tryin’ to ‘make the world a better place,’” Bullwhip laughed quietly as he shook his head. “And you can see what we do as some great evil, but at the end of the day, we’re just tryin’ to make it through to tomorrow, just like e’rypony else. We’re fillin’ a role in the nat’ral order,” he looked back and pointed a hoof at me. “We are the hunters,” he directed the hoof at Lullaby, “and they are our game. The weak fall to our hooves so that we may survive. Ain’t nothin’ more true to nature than the relationship between predator and prey.”

“Now,” the slaver spat, losing the smile and shoving his face right into mine, “I’m probably about to do somethin’ real stupid, but you’re young and, believe it or not, I... get where you’re comin’ from.” He looked away from me as he stood back up, a look of what I almost mistook for regret passing over him. “If you’re finally willin’ to accept your place, and get right back to work, I’m willin’ to give you another shot.” His voice dropped to a low growl, “And I’m sure you know this is about two more chances than I’d give anypony else, so what do you say boy?” He extended a hoof toward me.

My shallow breaths grew shakier as I stared at the hoof. Taking it would mean everything going back to normal. I’d have my job back, the security of the compound, semi-regular meals, my shed, my books… Chance. The thought made me shudder, but comparing that to life in this hole, it still sounded like paradise. All I needed to do was take his hoof, put my nose to the dirt, and just get on with my life. It sounded so tantalizing, so simple.

All it would cost is my soul.

I sealed my eyes shut and shook my head. This wasn’t it, this wasn’t I wanted. It was strange, but I knew that accepting his offer, even if I swore to myself to keep trying, I’d still have made the choice to go back to that life for my own gain. The years of staying aloof to the perpetual suffering would start to weigh on me, making me just as numb, and maybe just as cruel as the rest of them. My choice was made when I helped those slaves escape, there was no turning back. No true hero could look at how Oasis operated and turn a blind eye, I had to be better than that now. That’s what the Masked Matter-Horn would do, or lay down her life trying.

With defiance in my tear-filled eyes, I quietly gasped, “Fuck… you.” Then I reeled back and spat with as much force as I could. Most of it just landed right back on my face, but several spittles splashed against Bullwhip’s hoof.

He didn’t react at first, just drew back the leg, and wiped it against the dead slave’s coat. “Well, I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t disappointed,” he said calmly. “You’re smart, and that is just so rare these days, but… ” he turned away and began a slow canter back toward the ladder, “a buck’s got to have his convictions, and I respect that.” He grasped onto the first rung and began hauling himself up. Upon reaching the entrance, my father stared back down at me. “But that ain’t gonna stop me from stickin’ to mine. So get comfortable, boy, ‘cause you’re gonna be down there ‘till I figure out just how to deal with you.”

With that, he about-faced and began trotting away. I continued to stare up through the open hatch, closely examining the shape and movements of the gray clouds. A sense of serenity fell over me, and my breathing began to calm. As a murky darkness clouded my mind, I felt a small smile spread across my face.

Maybe I was still a good pony. My whole life had been built around prolonging and remaining complicit in the suffering of others, and it almost seemed like I’d become numb to it already. Day in and day out had me witnessing atrocities that anypony with a hint of morality would be sickened by. I'd stood on the precipice of heartlessness, and despite being scared out of my mind, I’d used this moment to fight back. I know deep down in my heart that what I did for those ponies the other day was right. Bullwhip’s sermon of the “natural order” could do nothing to extinguish the ringing truth in the righteousness of what I'd done. It wasn't easy, and it certainly put my own life into more peril than it's ever been, but that's always what it seems to take to be the hero.

I was offered the easy way out, a chance to renege on all my dreams of heroism in exchange for burying the hatchet, and I turned it down. Maybe that didn't make up for my own crimes, but hopefully it meant I could be deserving of some measure of forgiveness.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and my breathing grew shallower as the thundering in my chest settled to a steadily slowing beat.

I was still terrified of dying, and the realization certainly put a damper on my righteous mood, but I felt a bit more ready. My limbs relaxed, and I tried to ready myself for whatever would face me on the other side.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain jab into my abdomen. I cried out, but was silenced as a thick, oily liquid was injected into my stomach. It felt slightly warm at first, almost comforting, before I felt the substance swiftly spread throughout me.

A sharp cracking resounded through my ears as I felt my broken ribs begin to move, and a piercing howl escaped me as the bones began snapping back into place. The jagged shards tore through my innards, making my organs feel like they were being ripped to shreds, before they too quickly healed. It was one of the most nightmarish things to ever befall me. The searing pulses of fresh injury ran headlong into the relief of instant mending, forming an entanglement of sensations that ravaged my consciousness. The oily substance was zipping around me so fast, I couldn’t keep track of what was being done.

Finally, the torment began to withdraw, and I sucked greedy mouthfuls of sweet air into my lungs. As my senses returned, I peeled open my eyes, only to find Chance standing over me. The brown buck was smiling wickedly and a thick, filthy syringe was grasped in his teeth. White bandages covered the entire right side of his skull.

“Welcome back, Fucktoy,” he growled.

“Ch- Cha- Chan-” I stuttered as my newly healed heart struck up a rapid drumline that resonated through my ears.

“Aw,” he sighed sympathetically, cutting me off, “did you think that was gonna be the end of it? That we’d just let you die all calm and peaceful-like on the comfy cave floor? Oh Fucktoy…” he trotted up to me, before lowering his face till it was level with mine, “There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let it be that easy. You’re gonna suffer for a long, long time.”

He backhoofed me across the face. I felt my skull slam against the rocky floor, and a field of stars began dancing in my vision. His hoof grasped my side and flipped me over onto my stomach. “Now,” he snarled, “I do recollect that we were in the middle of an-” he ran a hoof along the side of my face,”-intimate moment, when your little antics so rudely interrupted us.”

“Chance… please,” I finally sputtered as I scrabbled to get away, panic electrifying my every nerve. “I swear I didn't do it. I'm sorry about your eye, I'm sorry about the slaves, just please don't-” he smacked me again.

“You really think I give a shit?” he spat. “Oh poor, naive little Fucktoy. I just got the green light from dear ol’ dad to do whatever the fuck I want to you.” He placed a hoof on the joint in my front leg and pressed down, hyper extending the muscle. I cried out as the veins in my leg felt as if they were brimming with glass shards. Chance spoke again, his mouth now right beside my ear. “‘Long as you survive whatever I do, you’re mine,” he whispered. “So I'm gonna hurt you, Fucktoy, and if you thought things were bad before-” he giggled sadistically, “just you fuckin’ wait.” He put on more pressure before releasing the leg, allowing me to recoil it and begin rubbing at the burning joint. I heard the slaver trotting back behind me.

“Oh,” he sighed dreamily, “you can’t even begin to imagine how much I’ve missed this” I felt him press his muzzle to my flank and inhale deeply. “And now it’s gonna be so much more satisfying. Knowin’ that the ass I’m rippin' apart belongs to the little shit that shot out my fuckin’ eye.”

“P- please…” I gasped shakily, pleading once more as fear paralyzed my limbs, “please, Chance… don’t… I’m sorr-” another blow drove my skull back against the hard stone. As the stars began to clear, I felt the terrifyingly familiar sensation of Chance mounting me.

“No!” I shrieked, as I began to flail wildly, smashing my hooves against Chance and rock alike as I desperately tried to escape. This couldn’t be happening. I was the good pony, the hero. I didn't deserve this. It wasn't fair!

My eyes began to burn as my dehydrated body attempted to summon tears, and I coughed through my screams as my blood turned cold at Chance’s touch. “Please,” I begged, a sob periodically breaking up my speech, “please, not again. Don’t do this!”

“No… chance,” my brother sneered. He snatched my tail in his teeth, pressed a hoof on my shoulders, and yanked my hind end up. I yelped in pain, before the disgustingly familiar sensation of his length pressed firmly between my flanks.

He wasted no time in ramming himself inside me.

My shrieks rose to a piercing wail as I felt my flesh tear around his sudden intrusion. With a sickening moan, he withdrew slightly before slamming his pelvis back against me. My cries resounded throughout the cavern at his every insertion before I devolved into pitiful whimpers. A warm stream began to trail down my hind legs.

Chance continued to ravage me, the seconds drawing out into indeterminate stretches of agony. This was different than every other time he’d taken me. His usual sadism felt amplified with every savage movement, and he periodically broke his onslaught to deliver blows with his hooves. He’d slam my head to the ground, before lifting it up to whisper his perverse desires in my ear.

“I can’t wait to find out just how much it’ll take to break you,” he wheezed. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to put you back together whenever it happens. We still got plenty more Hydra where that came from. Oh we’re gonna have so much fun experimentin.’ Maybe next time I’ll show ya just how it feels to have an eye ripped out, and… Hey!” Chance exclaimed. “That’ll give me a brand new hole to fuck. Win-win, don’t you think?” He burst out into another fit of giggles before continuing to slam against me.

I couldn’t respond, or even summon a coherent thought. All I could do was try to keep my retching to a minimum and block out my utter hopelessness as best I could. It proved fruitless as a darkness began to spread throughout my being, and every ounce of shame and disgust I felt bubbled to the surface. I cried out again, “Please, stop!”

This was hell.

Finally, his momentum picked up as the rapist drew closer to his release. With a final cry of carnal pleasure, a disgusting heat erupted inside me. Unable to hold back longer, a final retch expelled a vile, black liquid from my mouth, and my whole body collapsed.

Chance slipped out of me as I crumpled to the floor, my anguished panting the only sound left in the cave. A painful tingling began to spread throughout my face as I lay in the puddle of vomited Hydra. The burning from my ripped backside had numbed throughout my brother’s onslaught, but experience told me that the initial shock was only temporary. The ongoing pain of Chance’s depraved act would come soon enough.

A ringing in my ears deafened me to whatever my brother might have been doing. However, I soon felt a hoof grasp my side before Chance flipped me back over. The stinging on my face abated as the venomous chem dripped off my cheek.

Peeling open my eyes, I spied the sadistic slaver grinning down at me.

“I… hate… you,” I gasped shakily.

A look of mock hurt passed over him, and he placed a hoof on his heart. “Oh, that just tears me up, Fucktoy. Truly, it does.” He started laughing again as he walked toward a corner of the cave and picked up a metal tray with his teeth. Stalking back over, he let the steel slab clatter to the floor. I spied a carton of filthy-looking water, a bowl of green gruel, and a glass bottle containing the transparent purple of a nearly-useless healing potion.

“Bon appetit,” he called before trotting over to the ladder, hauling himself up, and giving me a final, nightmarish smile as the hatch slammed shut.

The darkness was more comforting now. It blinded me to the sickening visuals of my reality as I wept quietly against the cavern floor, tears now freely pouring down my face.

My stomach roiled from the disgusting water, but my non-liquefied organs gave the pleasant sign that I hadn’t just drank something lethal. The potion had done little but take the edge off the fresh wounds Chance had inflicted, and a single bite of the slave gruel quickly drove away any hunger I felt.

A fog of disconnected thoughts swam through my mind, and very little was able to pierce it. One, however, stood out prominently amongst the others. One that terrified me, but not nearly as much as continuing my existence in this hole.

Alongside the relief of quenching my thirst, there lie a small bit of disappointment that the water hadn’t killed me. It meant Bullwhip wanted to keep good on his promise, he wanted to keep me alive. I don’t know how long they planned toy with me, but there had never been an apparent end to Chance’s sadism, nor my father’s lack of mercy. As scared as I’d been at the prospect of death, I’d now learned survival had far worse in store.

The sound of trickling water still gently resounded throughout the Pit, and that one thought returned to me.

I could end it now.

Weren’t a few moments of agony preferable to a potential lifetime? The terrifying visages of corpses began to flood my mind, those I’d been forced to drag out of this hole. Their final moments, frozen in rigor mortis, were burned into my memory. Faces smeared with their own blood, hooves desperately clutching at stomachs melting just beneath the skin, and some, seeking a faster escape from their atomic suicide, even bashing their skulls open against the cavern floor. It was horrifying, but wasn’t it still the less painful choice?

For fuck’s sake, was this really what I’d been reduced to? Was I going insane, or was this thought process just a symptom of growing up in the wasteland? Maybe it was an eventuality inherent to this world. You either lose your empathy for others and only look out for yourself, die trying to fulfill some misguided moral ideology, or check yourself out when you’ve lost all hope.

Maybe there wasn’t any compassion left, but that didn’t explain the family I’d watched torn apart. The regret in Lullaby’s voice even as she tried to kill me, and the chilling terror in her husband’s when he sold us out. Both of them had been willing to sacrifice their lives and humanity to ensure their daughter’s safety. In those moments I’d been shown that there was still love in the world, I couldn’t deny that.

I just didn’t understand why there wasn’t any for me.

Regardless, the uncertainty of my fate alone nearly drove me to plunge my muzzle into the irradiated depths. I could practically imagine the agony, but I also knew that it couldn’t possibly be a worse fate than throwing myself at the mercy of my family. Just a few gulps and I knew I could escape.

On shaky hooves, I managed to waddle over to the stream. Every movement of my hind legs caused a jolt of pain to lance up my spine, gasps to escape my mouth, and nightmares of the feeling’s origin to erupt in my memory. Standing above the water, I could practically feel the heat of the radiation. Several shaky breaths trailed down my throat as a heavy pit began to form in my stomach.

“Just do it,” I whispered.

I slowly lowered my mouth to the stream. A stinging heat sprouted across my muzzle as it broke the surface, and my lips parted as I prepared to guzzle a lethal dose. My eyelids sealed shut, and my shoulders shook in grim anticipation for the awaiting void.

Please, I thought desperately, don’t let it hurt too much.

Coward.

I nearly jumped from my skin as the new voice broke the silence. I withdrew my mouth from the water and scanned the cavern for the source. Seeing nothing near me, I sealed my eyes in concentration before my blue light weakly illuminated my surroundings.

Lullaby’s corpse still lie in the same spot, but nopony else seemed to be present. “Hello, is anypony there?” I asked the darkness, but only my echo answered me. “Hello?!” I shouted. My lips curled back, “Please!” I wailed into the darkness, “Somepony, anypony?!”

A familiar shriek of metal responded, and the cavern grew bright once more.

“Who ya talkin’ t’?” a deep voice asked from above.

Staring up through the hatch, I spied the giant, red mass of muscle that was Pike towering over the entrance.

“N-nopony,” I stuttered quietly, “just... myself.”

The giant slaver grunted in response before he kicked the ladder down into the Pit. A straining creak sounded from the ropes as Pike clumsily descended. A loud boom echoed throughout the chamber as the muscled pony landed.

I backed away from my brother. The stoic mask he wore made it impossible for me to tell his intent. Was he here to get his own pound of flesh from me? As the compound’s best hunter, he undoubtedly had been the most put-out by the jailbreak, and all of his wasted work seemingly lay at my hooves.

My brother lumbered closer, and my heart kicked itself back into a rapid drumline. I sealed my eyes shut again, dropped to the floor, and held my forelegs over my head. “Please, Pike, don’t hurt me,” I pleaded as his heavy hoofsteps stopped just short of me. “I swear, I had nothing to do with any of this.”

After a brief pause, he responded, “Ah know.”

My eyes shot open at his response. Lowering my legs, I stared up at him. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

“How?” I asked, confusion permeating my voice.

“Why would ya?” he grumbled.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I genuinely couldn’t think of an appropriate response. He’d answered the question simply, but perfectly. Still…

As if aware of my concern, he continued, “Ah’m not smar’, but Ah ain't blind. You don’ like wha’ we do, Ah know. But you is smar’, too smar’ t’ make Pa mad on purpose.” He stopped himself, and scrunched up his face in concentration before proceeding, “Ah think he knows too, and Chance.”

“Then why are they doing this?” I asked.

The giant slaver shrugged, “Need somepony t’ blame, Ah reck’n” He directed his gaze back at the hatch, “Others’re mad, want their caps. Knowin’ who lost ‘em makes ‘em happy-” Pike looked back at me, “for now.”

“For now?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “but they’ll wan’ more soon ‘nuff.”

“What’s gonna happen to me Pike?”

He seemed to ponder that for a second before lowering his head, “Don’ know.”

“Oh,” I responded, disappointment coloring my speech. Another thought sprang to mind, “So why are you here?”

Pike looked over at Lullaby’s corpse, then back at me, “Ge’ th’ body.”

“Oh,” I said again, the feeling of defeat further seeding itself within me.

My brother didn’t move at first, but started looking around the cavern suspiciously. With a final glance up through the hatch, he laid down in front of me, bringing our gazes level with each other. “An’ one more thing,” he whispered. Then he stood on hind-legs, swept me up in his hooves and delivered a bone-crushing embrace.

I gasped in shock, and my skin roared at the sensation. Before I could vocalize my distress, Pike gently set me back on the ground.

“I… wha-... huh?” I stuttered as my confusion sailed to new heights.

The enormous pony gave a small, sheepish smile, “Thank ya.”

“For what?”

The smile disappeared, and a melancholic air began to exude from Pike, “Saw ya th’ other nigh’.”

I was about to ask him to clarify, but thought better of it. What other night could he be talking about?

He drew in a breath, and let it out in a shaky exhale, “Saw ya and-,” his face scrunched up in concentration again, “Ciman- Cimanin- Cinmaninin-”

“Cinnamon?” I offered.

He nodded, but continued to wear the mournful expression.

The emotion in his response was the most animated I’d ever seen my brother, and it shook me to see the statuesque pony broadcasting his feelings like this. “Were you two… together?”

He shook his head. “She weren’t like other ponies. Didn’ jus’ see me as some big…” a look of resignation crossed him, “...dummy. She talked t’ me. Listened t’ me.” His gaze lowered to the floor, “Made me feel… not dumb. Like I had a friend.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, Pike,” I responded instantly.

He looked up. This time it seemed his turn to be confused, “Ya don’? Bu’ you’s smar’.”

“Apparently not that smart,” I said, motioning to our surroundings.

Pike shook his head, “Ya are. Ya read, an’ only smar’ ponies read.”

“Anypony can learn to read,” I responded.

“Not me,” he said dejectedly, “too dumb.”

“No you’re not,” I exclaimed, leaping to my hooves, “and I’ll prove it. If you really want to learn, I can teach you.”

Pike’s eyes widened, and his jaw fell open in shock, “Ya would?”

I smiled as I took a few steps closer, “Of course.”

“Why?”

My mouth opened to respond, but I stopped myself. Why indeed? I'd been so caught up in the moment that I hadn't even realized the gravity of my words until I'd said them. Two minutes ago, I was standing over an irradiated creek, ready to end this nightmare in one horrifyingly painful gulp, and now here I was offering to start tutoring somepony? If anything, I should at least be curled up, crying my eyes out and begging for freedom.

Teaching my brother how to read should’ve been on the bottom of my priority list, and yet watching him talk about his relationship with Cinnamon sparked a feeling of sympathy for the giant. His actions toward me gave the impression that there was more to him than the muscle-bound slaver I’d always known.

And maybe helping others was how I handled my trauma. Nopony should have to be subjected to the abject cruelty my father and brother displayed, but the realist in me pointed out that I didn’t have a whole lot of say in how much of it I received. I did, however, have a choice. I could play into their hooves, give up, wallow in this pit until my will finally crumbled, or I could do more.

Despite the horrors of my new reality, there was one important fact that no amount of self-pity could possibly let me ignore. I was alive, and there’d been too many hurt or killed to make sure I’d ended up that way. Deep in my heart, I began to think this might be some kind of test, a trial of will and morals laid out by the Goddesses themselves. I couldn’t think of any other reason for my actions being punished like this. It was the only answer that gave me any shred hope.

I had to live, to be strong, and to keep trying. And if I couldn’t do it up there, I’d do what I could down here. Even if it was something as mundane as teaching an illiterate pony to read, I would still be doing good. My final rebellion would not only be my survival, but my commitment to making things better, no matter what.

‘Atta boy.

I jumped at the voice again, spinning around to check the cavern, but we were still alone. Pike was giving me a perplexed look when I turned back toward him. I shrugged off the eery sensation as my focus returned to the conversation at hoof.

Perhaps there was also a way to make this offer mutually beneficial.

Gingerly, I tried to place a hoof on my brother’s shoulder, but settled for the highest part of his leg I could reach. “I know we’ve never been close, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start now. It’s not like I have a whole lot else going on and, as long as I’m gonna be stuck down here, it’d be nice to see a friendly face once in awhile.” I tried to muster the biggest smile I could, “Besides, we’re brothers, right?”

His look of shock transformed into the biggest, goofiest grin I could possibly imagine. It was a bit off-putting from his usual demeanor. The giant pony nodded enthusiastically, several long strands of his green mane pulling free of the knot he kept it tied in. “When?” he asked, eagerness dripping in his response.

“Well,” I said, “we can’t do a whole lot of reading if we don’t have any books.” I gestured again to the gloomy surroundings. “But, if you can bring me the ones I’ve got in my room, we can start whenever you like.”

“Ah’ll get ‘em” Pike responded instantly before spinning around and galloping back toward the ladder. He paused briefly to throw Lullaby’s body on his back, then took hold of the first rung.

Excitement flooded into me at the implication of Pike’s words. My books, I’d get to have my books! If nothing else could go right for me, at the very least my most prized possessions would be back in my grasp. I only hoped the others hadn’t taken their anger for me out on them, or see the red slaver trying to smuggle them down here. Celestia only knew what Bullwhip would do to Pike if he found out the giant pony was helping me. Out of all the things I knew about my father, his love of punishment shined through with a grisly brightness.

A niggling feeling tingled at the base of my neck as that thought crept in. “Pike, wait!” I called after him. The slaver paused in his ascent, swaying gently as he craned his neck back down toward me. “Don’t come back today, wait until they send you down here again.”

He cocked his head.

“They probably won’t like you helping me, and I don’t want anypony to get suspicious.”

He seemed to consider my words, before resignedly nodding his agreement and climbing up and out of the Pit. Pike grasped onto the hatch, bracing himself to close it, but gave a final look down at me.

“See you soon, lil’ brother.”

The sound of stones scraping together echoed throughout the cavern as I drew the first diagonal line. I followed it with a mirrored image, connecting the two as I did. Finally, I bridged them with a horizontal etch slightly below the peak. “Ok, what’s this one?”

Pike paused for a moment, scratching his head with a hoof. After a few seconds, he responded, “A?”

“Good,” I drew another series of lines, this one vertical with two bumps along it’s length.

“B?” he asked, this time a bit more confidently.

“Perfect,” I complimented. We’d been through the alphabet a few times already, and I was incredibly impressed with Pike’s progress. I’d thought that, with him being so much older, that these first few steps would be almost beyond him. Instead, my brother been able to identify various letters after just a few hours. There were still a few he had issue telling apart, but I was confident that he at least knew every letter’s name. I was getting ready for us to start building up to actual words, but I needed to be sure. Getting him frustrated during our first tutoring session wouldn’t exactly be productive.

I decided to throw him a curveball, “Ok, how about these?” I quickly drew a series of diagonal lines, connecting them all at their peak as I had the first character. When finished, there were two letters on the floor that appeared to be the horizontal mirror image of each other.

“Um…” Pike stammered, furrowing his brow as he did. The giant peered closely at the characters, swapping his gaze back and forth between them. The hatch was mostly closed, shrouding us from any unwanted onlookers, but also severely limiting what light we had to work with. My magic provided just enough illumination to make out the markings.

“It’s ok,” I said comfortingly, “take your time.”

Pike took a deep breath, before turning his attention back to the characters. After a few seconds, he confidently stated, “M,” whilst pointing to the character with two peaks and, “W,” at the other.

“Fantastic,” I exclaimed.

The red slaver beamed from my praise. “So we can star’ readin’ now?” he asked excitedly.

“Almost,” I responded, “now we’ve got to start working on pronunciation.”

Pike gave me a blank stare.

“Um…” I stuttered, trying to think of a way to explain it, “It’s basically how the different letters sound when you put them together, and there’s some pretty tough rules to remember.”

Pike cocked his head, “Like what?”

“Well, different combinations of letters can sound almost exactly the same while the same combinations can be completely different, it’s all about the context. There’s honestly more exceptions to the various rules of spelling than there are words that follow them. Then there’s the words with silently pronounced letters-” I cut myself off as Pike’s growing look of horror derailed my berating of Equestrian grammar. “But don’t get discouraged,” I said quickly, “you took to this stuff like a radroach in a balefire pit, so I’m sure you’ll have it down in no time.”

Looking markedly calmer, Pike levelled his gaze back at me and nodded his desire to continue.

“Alright,” I began, before scraping an ‘F’ followed by a ‘PH’, “to give you an example of what I was talking about, these combinations would be pronounced the same.”

The blank stare returned.

“Yeah, I know,” I relented, “but I promise, it’ll start to make sense soon.”

“Th-the M-Manny-Maney…” Pike groaned in frustration before tossing his hooves over his eyes. The crumpled pages of Power Ponies number four lay open on the ground in front of us, their yellowed pages turning an odd green in my magical light. Pike’s comprehension after learning letters had slowed immensely, but we were still making headway. In fact, considering the materials we were working with, I’d still say he was making fantastic progress.

Despite the refreshing distraction offered by my brother’s visits, I still wasn’t blinded toward the severity of my situation. I still didn’t know if Bullwhip was cooking up some creative punishment, or if he’d eventually just let Chance fully of the leash once they’d bored of me.

Pike had tried to give me a sense of how much time was going by, but during his absences, the moments just blurred together. It might seem like days or even weeks had passed, although Pike assured me he was stopping by as often as possible.

Time spent with my oldest brother was all the more precious as every other moment was filled with maddening silence, or Chance. The sadistic buck would show up every few days and enact whatever warped fantasies he’d dreamed up. Chance’s savagery was relentless, but true to his word, he never took it too far. Meaning I’d survive, if just by a thread.

The conclusion of Chance’s visits often included an offering of Hydra, which I continually refused. I wasn’t naive enough about chems to not know how damaging they were over time, so I’d been contenting myself with the varying quality of my prescribed healing potions. However, I was terrified that my continued denial was resulting in injuries that lay beyond the weakened draughts’ abilities. Luckily, Chance hadn’t kept his promise of taking my eye, not yet at least.

Pike never mentioned it, even when the signs of our brother’s abuse were obvious, but he’d bring an extra healing potion and some decent food whenever he came for a lesson. He even brought the sheet from my bed so I’d have something to help me sleep and, perhaps even more importantly, also smuggled in my music box. The merry tune may not have been enough to allow me to completely fall into blissful escapism, but it offered me a measure of tranquility in this painful chapter of life.

It helped keep me sane.

“You’re doing great, Pike,” I reassured him, “That’s a tough one since it’s kind of a play on words, but it says Mane-iac.”

“Why do that?” he asked quietly, “Ain’t there a lot o’ words already?”

“Well… yeah, I guess, but sometimes ponies like to be a little more creative with names.”

“Oh,” he murmured.

“Don’t get upset, it’s hard for everypony at the start,” I consoled.

Pike absently pushed at a few pebbles, then turned to look at me, “How’d ya learn?”

“There was a slave,” I began, the warmth of one of my few good memories bathing over me. “A few years ago, when I first started working. Her name was Cheery Days, and she’d talk to me while I cleaned out the pens, ask me how my day was going, and even came to my defense when the other slaves started hassling me. It really helped me acclimate to work knowing at least one pony didn’t outright hate me just for being involved, and it was nice having somepony to talk to. Anyway, she’d give me my lessons at night and quiz me when I was cleaning out the pens. She even gave me a few books she’d smuggled in.” I looked down at the comic at Pike’s hooves, “One of them was a beginner’s reading guide.” Pike’s ears perked at that, but I had to disappoint him, “Somepony stole it a while back, I guess it was probably pretty valuable. It helped, especially after she got sold, but she also wanted me to learn how to read for fun, so she gave me a comic.” I gestured toward the brittle pages, “That one, actually.”

“Why’d she do somethin’ like tha’?” Pike asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” I responded.

“She knew what you was, that you weren’t gonna do nothin’ for her, and nopony else’d give a shit ‘bout her helpin’ you. What’d she wan’?”

“Well, it’s different for everypony,” I admitted, “but I think she knew that I didn’t want to be involved in their enslavement anymore than any of them wanted to be enslaved. Other times, ponies just like to be nice to each other, maybe in hopes that things can go back to the way they used to be. Before any of this.” I gestured toward the roof of the cavern, and the wasteland outside. “Before the slaving, raiding, and killing. Just a world of folks looking to do right by each other, and try to be friends.” I looked up at the ceiling, “That mare was my first inspiration to try and do better, to try and be like the heroes in the stories she’d given me.” I lowered my gaze back to my brother, “We live in a pretty rotten world, Pike, and I think there’s a lot of us that just want to try and make things a little… brighter.”

The giant pony seemed to mull over my words before he adopted a somber, almost regretful, expression and lowered his head to the floor.

I began to regret explaining it that way. It wasn’t like anything I’d said wasn’t true, but I’d also effectively demonized the focal point of his entire existence. I placed a hoof on his shoulder, “There’s always time to do good, Pike, no matter what you’ve done. As long as you want to do better, and you feel regret, then we can at least ask for forgiveness.”

“No,” he said solemnly.

“No?”

“Don’ regre’,” he answered, “it’s what Ah do good.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

He shot me a perplexed look.

“What I mean is, well, your talent is hunting, right?”

Pike shot a look back at his flank, analyzing the crossed spears adorning it, “S’pose.”

“Well, who says that what you hunt has to be slaves, or that you even have to hunt at all? You could do anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked.

“Definitely,” I exclaimed, my excitement building at his awestruck expression. “There’s a whole world out there, big brother, and I think if we work together, we could make a real difference. Even if you do want to keep hunting, there’s plenty of ways to do good with that. You could hunt for supplies or lost ponies. Maybe even bad ponies like raiders, thieves, slavers-” I cut myself off.

“B-but...” Pike stammered, nervousness suddenly sprouting across his face and his eyes growing wide, “...but Pa-”

“I know,” I said comfortingly, “he scares me too. But we’re not his slaves, and we can be anypony we want to be. Pa doesn’t control us.”

The slaver’s widened eyes relaxed somewhat, and an air of contemplation fell across his face.

“Come on,” I said warmly, “let’s keep going.” I could always try again. It would take more than a few inspiring words to undo the years Pike had spent in Bullwhip’s employ, but his reaction gave me a bit of hope. Maybe he’d always wanted to get away from this life, just like me, but never had the confidence to try. While it wasn’t like mine was in much better shape, maybe our two broken wills could amount to somepony capable.

Pike breathed a deep sigh of relief, obviously grateful for the change in topic. He levelled his gaze back at the pages before him, “The M-Man-Mane-iac?” my brother looked back at me for approval.

“Perfect,” I said.

Pike was smiling down at the comic in front of him. He’d been on the same page for the last half hour, even though I knew my brother was capable of reading through the entire book in that time. I was busy wolfing down the can of cram he’d brought along. The spongy pink… stuff tasted like a whole stack of snack cakes with how hungry I was.

The giant’s progress lately was astounding. After getting through the first comic, Pike immediately latched on to the next, sped through the faded magazines, and even expressed dismay at the torn novel when he realized he’d never find out how Daring Do escaped Ahuizotal’s clutches. Although, my brother did swear to keep an eye out for another copy when out hunting.

The glow in his eyes as he devoured the written words made almost everything I’d been through to get him here worth it. Pike was now officially literate, and I’d never felt prouder.

It was the same pride I’d felt helping those few slaves escape, leading me to believe that a hero’s victory needn’t always require defeating some villain. Sometimes being a hero just meant helping somepony who needed it, even if their aggressor was just their own confidence. If all this really was some test set out for me by the Goddesses, I’m pretty sure I was passing with flying colors.

I let the empty can clatter to the floor before trotting back over to Pike. Peeking over his shoulder, I could see him staring at a full-page spread of the Saddle Rager’s transformation. The meek behavior the character generally showed was in such stark contrast to the hulking beast she could become, it was almost disconcerting seeing her outside of battle. A sudden realization hit me, and I began to understand why Pike was staring at this page.

“You like the Saddle Rager, huh?” I asked inquiringly.

“Ayep,” he responded happily, “she’s so cool. Th’ way she jus’ clobbers th’ bad guys, but only if’n she thinks they deserve it. Nopony can tell her when t’ figh’, it’s all up t’ her. Ah think she’s my favorite.”

“Mine’s the Masked Matter-Horn,” I said. “She’s always looking out for her friends, always has a plan ready to go, and she makes everypony feel valuable.” I sat down next to Pike, reading over his shoulder as he finally continued on with the story.

“You know,” I commented, “you kinda remind me of the Saddle Rager.”

The red pony startled a bit, before levelling a look of disbelief at me, “Ya really think so?”

“Definitely,” I replied. “I mean, sure, there was a long time where I didn’t know you very well. But over ever since I’ve been trapped down here, you’ve really shown me who you are deep down. You’re tough when you need to be, but there’s still a gentle, misunderstood pony hiding in there somewhere. Only difference I see is you’re big all the time, not just when you’re angry.”

Pike seemed to mull over my words, his expression changing to one of deep contemplation. “Maybe,” he muttered after a time, “but she fights bad ponies, and Ah’m-”

“Somepony born into a life that never gave you choice,” I interrupted, knowing where he was going with that thought. “We’ve all done bad things, Pike, but that doesn’t mean we’re bad ponies. There’s always a chance for us to do good, it’s just that this world doesn’t give us a whole lot of opportunity. The right decisions are always there, they just aren’t always the easy ones. Pa sure as shit isn’t ever going to order you to make them, but you’re not him. You’re whoever you want to be, whether that’s Pike the slaver, or…” I flipped the comic back to the image he’d been gazing at, “Pike the hero.”

The giant’s troubled look had relaxed as I spoke, and there was even a subtle hint of yearning in his expression. I could tell he wanted to believe me, but something was still holding him back, something that was keeping his loyalty solidly rooted in this life.

Well, I thought, may as well be now or never. I extended a hoof and put on the biggest, warmest smile I could muster, “So what do you say, Saddle Rager, want to help me make the wasteland a better place?”

Pike stared at my hoof, his inner turmoil spreading across his face like wildfire. I knew from the start that this moment was coming, that at some point I’d have to make the slaver choose between his comfortable, familiar life, or abandoning it to jump into the great unknown. These last few… weeks (Goddess I hope it’s just been weeks) I’ve tried to be the kindest and most understanding pony possible, hoping that would sway his decision. From the way I’d always seen Bullwhip treat him, I assumed that only Cinnamon and myself had shown the buck any modicum of compassion.

It had never been my intent to put him on the spot like this. Truly, I’d just wanted to see a friendly face and to have a closer relationship with my brother. But it had become apparent that if I ever wanted to escape this place, I’d need help. He was my last hope.

After a few tense seconds, the giant slaver said, “Do ya think Cinnamon would like that?”

“I know she would,” I responded instantly.

Slowly, the red pony pulled himself up and clopped away from me. My smile faltered, and I could feel my heart drop into my stomach.

That’s it, I thought, he’s leaving. I pushed him too much, and now I’ve pushed him away. What was I thinking, trying to get him leave everything for some stupid fantasy? Good going, idiot.

However, instead of heading toward the ladder, Pike walked toward the pile of sand beneath the hatch. I saw him lower his head and pick up my ratty sheet. It’d been nestled in the coarse bedding, as it proved the softest place in the cave to sleep.

As he trotted back toward me, I gave him a perplexed look. My brother only smiled as he tossed the cloth across his back, then extended his hoof toward me. “Ah’m ready,” he stated confidently, before adding, “Mas’ed Matter-Horn.” My smile erupted back across my face as we bumped hooves. With a bit of magic, I hastily tied the sheet around Pike’s neck.

The dark city streets of Maretropolis extended out into the peaceful night. Flickering street lamps bathed the asphalt in a disconcerting sheen, while the shadowed alleys remained hidden from view. A gentle breeze rustled piles of litter, but an eery silence was all that could be heard otherwise.

Two ponies marched along the sidewalk. One, a unicorn, wore an outfit of deep red and light blue with a matching mask covering the upper half of his face. The other, an enormous earth pony, was dressed in a costume of turquoise and purple with a single strip of purple cloth wrapped around his eyes.

The unicorn paused before a brilliant light burst from his horn, causing the shadows to retreat from all but their dimmest corners. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, the light extinguished and the pair continued on their way.

“It’s quiet,” the unicorn commented, “too quiet.”

“It is?” the earth pony asked, “Maybe i’s a… um… bad guy?”

“Well… yeah, probably. But we’re not at that part yet,” the unicorn responded, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Ah ain’t good at playin’ pretend,” the giant lamented, “why can’t we jus’ ge’ t’ the fightin’?”

“There’s gotta be some buildup,” I said, turning toward my brother. “That’s always how the stories go.” The mental illusion of Maretropolis fell as I broke character, revealing Pike and I as the two sheet-cape wearing ponies we actually were. City streets became stone floor, and sides of buildings became the walls of the Pit.

I’d always loved playing superhero, even though I’d perpetually been alone in the endeavor. The only other kids in Oasis had never exactly been in a position to play with me, so forays into the fanciful worlds of imagination had been a rare pleasure for me to indulge. However, the victory of pulling Pike over to my side had created an air of excitement I couldn’t. The idea of becoming like the heroes in my… our comics had resonated so well with both of us, I felt like delving into a little immature fun would be a welcome break.

It was a little embarrassing, asking Pike if he wanted to pretend to be superheroes with me, but he’d agreed with a surprising amount of eagerness. After a quick dash back to his room to acquire another sheet, we set the stage, decided on the story, and began our adventure into the feigned world of the Power Ponies.

“Bu’ this par’ is so damn borin’,” Pike complained. “How much more build-up do ya need?”

“Just a little longer,” I asked, giving the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could muster and pouting my lower lip, “please.”

“Fine,” he relented, standing back up and adjusting the sheet on his back, “bu’ hurry up an’ get t’ th’ excitin’ par’.”

“Ok,” I promised. My head lowered toward the ground as I took a deep breath, trying to get back into character.

“Let’s check out these alleys,” I began, trying to make my voice sound commanding. “The Police Chief told us that the number of attacks here has risen the last few nights.”

“Wha’ kinda attacks,” the ‘Saddle Rager’ asked, trying his best to sound invested.

“Mane assaults,” I said. “All the victims have reported their manes and tails were shaved. Since none of the hair was found, they’re assuming the perpetrator has been collecting it.”

“Ew,” the giant responded, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

“Maybe not as ‘ew’ as you think,” I stated, continuing in my explanation. “Another interesting fact, every pony that’s been assaulted have been stylists, models, actors. All of them the kind of ponies you’d expect to take good care of their manes and, perhaps, have one desirable enough to make wigs. The type one could assume would fetch a high price on the black wig market.

The earth pony gasped, looking surprised, “Ya don’ mean-”

“Yes,” I stated gravely, “it sounds like the Mane-iac has returned.”

Suddenly, a new gust picked up, blowing the piles of trash around in a blinding whirlwind. As the refuse began to settle, a new figure stood before us. A gangly violet mare, garbed in a suit of purple, black and gold, stood above us. Her tentacle-like, green mane clung tightly to the tops of four nearby light posts, holding her aloft.

“Well, well, well,” she began, her voice soft and venomous, “what do we have here? The Pitiful Ponies, trying to save the day.” She flicked her gaze back and forth between us, “But where’s the rest of the merry band of pathetic? Did Humdrum trip everypony else down a flight of stairs…” she put a hoof under her chin in contemplation, “...again?”

“Mane-iac,” I snarled as I drew in magic and ignited my horn.

“Where?” the muscled pony at my side asked, spinning around in bewilderment.

I cringed a bit, “Over… um… over there.”

“Oh, righ’,” he mumbled sheepishly, then adopted a wide-legged battle stance. “Stop righ’ there, villain.”

“Or what?” the manic mare mused.

“Or else… uh… or Ah’ll pound your fuckin’ head in!”

Well, I thought, at least he’s trying.

“Yeah,” I shouted at our imaginary foe. “Come with us peacefully, or face the righteous might of the Power Ponies!”

The Mane-iac threw back her head and unleashed a wicked cackle, “Oh, that’s too rich. And how, pray tell, will you manage that with just the two of you?”

“Don’t underestimate us,” I warned. “It doesn’t matter how strong you are, or how many of us are here. As long as we’re together, we can do anything.” I peeked over my shoulder, “Right Saddle-Rag-”

I was cut off as a rapidly approaching stalagmite filled my vision. Just in time, I dropped to the floor, and felt the jagged rock sail over head. With a crash, it slammed into the ‘Mane-iac’. In reality, a huge gash appeared in the cavern wall, and the the stone spire split in two.

Looking up, I stared back at Pike with shocked look. The muscled pony beamed back at me, “Righ’, Mas’ed Matter-Horn,” he called proudly.

“Fucking hell, Pike,” I gasped, trying to get my heart rate under control, “we’re just playing. Could you tone it down a bit?”

“Oops,” the giant pony muttered, a shameful look of realization replacing his smile. “Sorry, Ah go’ excited.”

“It’s ok,” I said after a moment, finally calming myself. “Let’s just get back-”

“No, it’s no’,” he muttered, turning his head from me. “Ah almost hurt ya, coulda killed ya.” The shame in his voice tugged at my heart, and I regretted snapping at him. “Ah told ya, Ah ain’t good at playin’ pretend. Too stupid Ah gue-”

“No,” I cut him off, an irrational anger overtaking me, “don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

He looked back at me, now shocked more than anything.

“We have worked too Goddess-damned hard for you to still think something like that,” I chided, marching right up to Pike and shoving my head up toward his face. “You’re a lot of things, but I think we’ve both proven that you aren’t stupid. No matter what Pa, Chance, or anypony else says.” I put a hoof on my brother’s leg, then threw caution to the wind and wrapped both forelegs around his and squeezed tight. Immediately, my breathing turned to panicked gasps, my head began to spin, and a roar of discomfort seared across my skin, but I endured it.

Pike’s look of shock deepened as I embraced him. After the first incident, I’d explained my issue with touching - not in detail, as I felt the reasons were fairly obvious - but he’d respected my condition nonetheless. There’d been a few slip-ups here and there, but the giant pony had been overly-apologetic every time. But this wasn’t some casual contact, this was necessary. Pike needed to know just how much he meant to me, that no minor mistake could possibly drive me away or change the newfound love I had for him. We were brothers, and I would suffer any amount of discomfort to make sure he knew that.

“You’re a smart pony, big brother,” I finished.

The red giant’s expression fell into a deep relief, and a big smile spread across his face. Pike hesitantly raised his free hoof, and looked down at me questioningly.

“It’s ok,” I said, bracing myself.

Pike’s leg gently fell across my back, returning the hug. It was… unpleasant, but not nearly to the extent I’d been expecting. The embrace felt similar to clutching Ambrosia all those days ago. My condition was still there, but softened from a paralyzing burn to a minor itch of discomfort.

A warm glow touched my face, almost as if outside light had broken through into the cavern, just for the two of... wait… light?

I began to notice that an actual brightness was fighting to break through my closed eyes, snapping me out of the affectionate delirium. My stomach dropped, my legs began to shake, and an indescribable fear struck me.

The hatch was open.

Shaking, I gently pushed against Pike, breaking the hug and allowing me to peer up toward the ceiling. As I’d guessed, the metal dome was opened wide, revealing Bullwhip idly tapping his hoof as he gazed down at us.

“Aw,” he called, shocking Pike out of the moment as well, “Did I interrupt your lil’ moment of brotherly love? I didn’ mean to do that.”

Shaking, the red pony turned his eyes upward, and froze. A look of unparalleled horror sprouted across my brother’s face, and his legs began knocking together as he desperately tried to remain upright. “P-P-P-Pa-”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” the orange slaver snapped.

As he had weeks ago, Pike crumpled under Bullwhip’s words. My brother’s gaze turned to the floor, and I could see the beginnings of tears forming in his fear-filled eyes.

Bullwhip’s anger no longer contained, our father kicked the rope ladder down into the Pit. “Thought I heard something crash down here, and I guess this explains where you been sneakin’ off too, eh? Though I shouldn’t be surprised,” his gaze turned toward me. “Seems like this lil’ fuck just can’t stop makin’ trouble for me.” He looked back at Pike, “Get your dumb ass up here, retard.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” I shouted, my terror instantly transforming into fury.

“Oooo,” Bullwhip cooed, a look of amusement crossing him. “You been workin’ on growin’ a backbone down there, boy?”

“Pike isn’t dumb,” I snapped, ignoring his comments. “He’s smart, a lot fucking smarter than you’ll ever be.”

A barking laugh escaped the slaver’s lips, “Him? This dumb sack o’ shit right here? Boy, if you think there’s anythin’ rattlin’ ‘round in that teeny tiny brain, I’d reckon you’re stupider than he is.”

“He can read,” I stated simply, before letting my own smile appear, “and I bet you can’t.”

The amused look dropped, and a corner of Bullwhip’s lip turned up in snarl, “Well now, if that’s the case, maybe I’ll have ‘im read you your last rights.”

My grin disappeared, and the earlier fear returned.

“That’s what I thought,” the slaver spat. “Now Pike, I gave you a fuckin’ order.”

The giant pony turned toward me, mouthing a silent apology before grasping onto the ladder and hauling himself up. As he reached the entrance, Bullwhip violently yanked the make-shift cape off the bigger pony’s neck and tossed it back in the Pit. Then, with a look of disgust, he pulled back a hoof and smacked Pike across the muzzle, toppling him to the ground. “Now I gots to figure out a way to punish the both of you,” he stated, agitation in his tone. “Pike, come.”

The orange pony about-faced and began trotting away. Before following, my brother gave me a final, sorrowful look.

I returned it with a smile and a wave, letting him know it was alright. He tried to muster up a grin of his own before grasping onto the hatch and slamming it shut.

Goddess-dammit.

A day must have passed. The only measure of time available was the growing hunger and thirst I felt, becoming an insufferable ache, but paling in comparison to the crushing guilt.

Whatever Bullwhip ended up doing to Pike was my fault, because of my idiotic interpretation of the “right thing to do.” Why is it that every time I think I’m doing some measure of good, the world sees fit to punish me and anypony else involved? Weren’t we the good ponies? Why did pieces of shit like Chance and Bullwhip get away with murder, when decent folk like Pike and Ambrosia had to suffer?

I cried out in frustration before pounding my hooves against anything that looked remotely breakable. Metal boxes and the remains of the shelves dented slightly at my onslaught. I began to leave dark smears of red on every surface from the hot cuts and bruises sprouting across my legs. The containers proved frustratingly resilient, so I turned to bucking at sand and fragile-looking stalagmites until my lungs burned. My breath came in shaky gasps before I began to calm. Legs growing weak, I fell backward, and slammed against the stony floor. As the hammering in my chest slowed to a steady beat, I turned my gaze to the ceiling.

“Why?” I asked aloud, echoing the same sentiment from my arrival in the Pit. This time, however, the audience of my pleas were the Goddesses themselves. I gritted my teeth as fresh tears sprouted in my eyes, creating clean lines in the filth clinging to my cheeks.

“WHY?!” I shouted again. “Why do you keep letting this happen? Isn’t this what you want, for somepony to try and make things better? ANSWER ME?!” The echoing cries hammered back against my ears, nailing home the only revelation afforded from my prayers.

Nopony could hear me, I was alone.

With a wail, my streaming tears devolved into blubbering sobs. The relentless tide of remorse and rage crashed over me, and my final strands of resolve collapsed at the onslaught. Sodden coughs and chattering teeth interrupted my sorrowful weeping, and a rising wave of nausea dragged me further into my deepening pit of hopelessness. I turned to my side, brought my rear legs up, and held them tight as I began to rock back and forth.

“Please,” I managed to sputter, “help me.”

Get up.

I snapped upright, startled at the sudden intrusion. Blue light illuminated the cavern as I whipped my head around, but found myself alone. A niggling feeling of remembrance tickled the base of my neck, and I thought back to the events preceding Pike’s first visit to the Pit. I’d heard the voice, I couldn’t deny that now, but this time I was going to figure out just who the hell it was.

“This… this isn’t f-funny anymore. W-whoever you are, come out,” I called.

Who’s trying to be funny? the voice answered, causing me to jump again. But if you’re looking for a joke, I’ve got a pretty great one about zebras and light bulbs.

The voice was male and sounded young, maybe even somepony the same age as me. It was relaxed, but with a subtle hint of command in the tone. The voice also appeared to come from all around me, almost as if it was speaking directly into my head.

My silence must have urged the voice on, Or are you not a joke kinda kid. How about a jape? Everypony loves japes.

“W-who are you?” I asked.

Well, that’s kinda the fuck of it, it answered. Can’t say I’m tots’ one hundred percent certain myself.

“Then why did you-”

Listen, kid, the voice interrupted, if your first few moments of consciousness were some little fuckhead’s tantrum, you’d wanna nip that shit in the bud too. Whining gets on my nerves RE-HEALLY fast.

“I wasn’t whin-”

Oh poor me, I got a dick shoved up my ass, I wanna try and kill myself, why doesn’t anypony love me? it interrupted in a mocking tone. Bitch, bitch, bitch, that’s all I’ve heard outta you.

“How did you-”

Know what you were gonna say? the voice finished, Not quite sure how you missed this one, genius, but I’m kinda in your head.

“What!” I shouted, running my hooves across my skull as if to find the intruders entrance.

Yeah. Can’t exactly say how, but here we are, it answered.

“B-but why?” I asked shakily.

Uh, weren’t you listening, the voice stated patronisingly, I’m as in the dark as you are, kid.

The panic coursing through me had me pacing across the cavern, desperately trying to think all of this through. Could there really be somepony in my head? No, that was too insane to even consider. There had to be some other explanation, right? It’d been awhile since I’d had anything to drink, maybe this was just a symptom of dehydration. That would make sense.

Although there was another possibility. My thoughts travelled back to the first time I’d heard the voice, and the horrifyingly lifelike dream that’d preceded the encounter. Strange visions, hearing ponies that weren’t there; the pieces started to fall into place, and a shocking realization chilled me to my core.

“Am I going crazy?” I asked quietly.

A moment of silence passed. Really? it finally asked in disbelief, You’re asking the voice in your head if you got a couple screws loose, if you’ve taken a trip to the whacky shack, if you’re a few candles short of a birthday cake? The voice paused and made a noise like somepony blubbering their lips and running a hoof across them. I think you just answered your own question, kid.

My stomach dropped, and my lip began to quiver as a fresh bout of tears threatened to spring forth at the voice’s sobering declaration.

Oh don’t you fucking start that shit again, the voice snapped, startling me from the oncoming breakdown. Speaking of birthdays, you’re really bringing my first one down with all this mamby pamby bullshit.

“B-but-”

So you’re a couple degrees off kilter, who the fuck cares? it interrupted. I’ll let you in on a little secret, this world isn’t exactly the best place to nurture a sane or rational mind. You think anypony else up there is any better off than you are? I mean, yeah, most of them ain’t stuck in the ground and getting their asses reamed out on a regular basis, but I can guarantee that anypony that knows how to survive ain’t exactly in their right mind. Everypony’s got their own way of dealing with shit, and your’s just so happens to be creating a new best friend. Is that really so bad?

As confusing as the voice’s reassurance was, I really couldn’t deny what it was saying. Sure, it wasn’t exactly comforting me in the most conventional of ways, but it had stopped from drinking the creek’s water, and was currently trying to make light of what should be ample excuse to try again. Could it be that this was how my mind was seeing fit to protect me? To create something in such stark contrast to my current state in order to pull me out of this? As crazy as it sounded, maybe this was a good thing. Maybe the voice could help.

Now you’re starting to get it, the voice cooed approvingly. Stick with me, kid, and I guarantee that we’ll be having more fun than a breezie in a hurricane.

“So you’re gonna help me?” I asked hopefully.

Not sure if you noticed, but I’m kinda along for the ride. I think it’s safe to say that if I let you bite it, that ain’t gonna turn out too rosy for me either.

“Can you help me be…” I trailed off, a touch of embarrassment putting pause to my words.

I’m in your head, kid, the voice reminded me, won’t do you too much good trying to keep shit hidden.

I took a deep breath, “Can you help me be a hero?”

A what now? the voice asked, genuine confusion in its tone.

“You know,” I continued, “a hero. Somepony who helps others, that stops the bad guys, that saves the day when nopony else will.” I lowered my head toward the floor, “I’ve been trying, but I just keep-” I kicked at a nearby rock, sending it sailing the across the cavern, “fucking it up. I just want to learn what I’m doing wrong so I stop making things worse.”

The voice was quiet a moment before drawing out, Suuuuuure, that’s… exactly why I’m here.

“Really,” I shouted excitedly, hope returning to my voice, “you can help me be a hero?”

First things first, it chided me, we got to figure a way out of here.

As small a consolation as it was, the voice’s presence and reassurance offered a small respite from the thoughts assaulting my mind. The pit that had become my stomach began to ease, and my breathing returned to a calming rhythm.

“So what do we do now?” I asked tentatively.

Well, the voice began matter-of-factly, if the boundless wisdom and experience offered by my… weeks of life experience is anything to go by, I’d say that opportunity is just about to come knocking.

Before I could respond, the familiar shriek of the hatch opening pierced the tense silence, and the brightness of the day illuminated the dismal cavern. I instinctively put a practiced hoof over my eyes, letting them adjust in what I’d learned to be the most efficient way.

Oh thank fuck, the voice swore, sounding relieved. Real talk? I was totally bluffing.

Ignoring the comment, my vision began to clear away the sudden blindness, allowing me to make out a figure standing on the edge of the hole. A few strained blinks revealed a large, red earth pony.

“Pike!” I shouted before sprinting toward the entrance.

The ladder fell down into the Pit, and the giant began a slow descent. As he landed, I galloped up to him, excited, but also wanting to gauge the extent of Bullwhip’s abuse. My brother wore a somber look, and fresh bruises were plastered across his face, but otherwise looked none the worse for wear. However, he was carrying some kind of syringe in his mouth.

“Are you ok?” I asked, worry in my tone.

Pike remained quiet, an eerie reminder of our past relationship. He gave only a sorrowful look before turning his sight up toward the entrance.

The fuck’s this retard’s problem? the voice inquired.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” I snapped under my breath. Then I followed Pike’s gaze, and froze on the spot. The towering, orange visage of our father approached the edge of the hole, followed by the sneering grin of Chance, and then numerous others. Silhouettes began to appear until the entirety of the Pit’s entrance was surrounded by all manner of curious and grinning slavers. Nopony spoke, but there was an obvious air of excitement pervading the crowd as they beamed down at us.

“Wh-what’s going on, Pike?” I asked nervously, my legs beginning to shake.

Still my brother remained silent, although I could hear his breath growing shaky around the needle he clutched.

Hold on, the voice cut in, is everypony here for me? Aw, I didn’t think anypony would care about my birthday, but this is shaping up to one hell of a party.

“Quiet,” I pleaded silently.

I’m thinking shots, then some chems, and hell, let’s go all out. Somepony break out the motherfucking streamers!

Before I could further implore the voice to cease his endless chatter, Bullwhip stepped closer to the edge and then addressed the crowd. “Fillies and gentlecolts,” he began haughtily. “Welcome to the grand openin’ of our latest pastime.” The slaver began a slow canter around the circumference of the entrance, head held high and a wicked smile plastered on his face.

“Now, all y’all remember a couple weeks back we had bit of an… incident involvin’ the payday of our lives,” his gaze fell back down on the two of us. “And I’m sure y’all are equally aware of just who we can thank for that.”

My knees knocked together as I shrank back from the daggers now staring down from the amassed ponies. Our father continued, “And I know that tensions ‘tween y’all and me have been up there, and I ‘ppreciate your patience. Payday may’ve been delayed, but I know a lil’ entertainment can help relieve that stress. Now, I’ve been thinkin’ long and hard ‘bout just how to deal with this lil’-”

“Ain’t the only thing long and hard directed at ‘im lately,” Chance cut in before he devolved into a dark chuckle.

Bullwhip cuffed the brown pony behind the ear, causing him to stagger, “Don’t you fuckin’ interrupt me, boy.”

“S-sorry Pa, didn’t mean nuffin’ by it,” Chance placated as he took a few steps back.

The orange slaver stared him down for a bit before returning his attention to the crowd. “Like I was sayin’, been thinkin’ real hard on just how we should deal with this. What punishment would be fittin’ and entertainin’ ‘nuff to fit this crime. I take great pride in how I dispense justice, but this’n, I got’s to admit, has had me right puzzled. Not only was the perpetrator one of our own, but my own boy to boot.”

The buck reached behind him, then pulled a hunting rifle from somewhere on the ground, propping it against his shoulder, “Normally, I’d prob’ly just starve him out for a while, let ‘im think a good long while ‘bout just how badly he fucked up, before puttin’ a bullet in his head. But I think we can all agree, that ain’t ‘nuff.”

A vicious cheer arose from the crowd, interjected with calls of, “Burn ‘im alive,” “Bury ‘im in that hole,” “Let us have a go at ‘im,” “Fuck ‘im up, Pike!” My blood chilled, and my heart felt like it was about to rip itself out of my chest.

Hoo boy, the voice stated, we got us a lively bunch. They sure know how to party.

“And just when I think I’ve got it all figured out,” Bullwhip continued, “this lil’ shit here goes and tries to turn another one of my boys against me.” That silenced the crowd, and looks of disbelief began raining down on Pike.

“Y’all heard right,” our father commented, “the pride and joy of this compound, the best hunter any of us have ever bore witness too, has turned against his daddy as well. He’s been bringin’ food, water, medicine, and, the way he tells it, was even plannin’ on helpin’ this traitor escape.”

I shot a hopeless look at Pike, but he refused to meet my gaze.

“Now,” Bullwhip continued, “I see myself as bein’ a fair and reasonable buck, and while little Venture’s already blown all his chances, Pike hasn’t. So, instead of further delayin’, I’m thinkin’ we can kill two birds with one stone. Prove Pike is still one of us, and get what entertainment we can outta this traitor. So to that end,” the orange slaver drew himself up, and raised his voice to grandiose levels, “welcome, everypony, to the Oasis Arena!”

My gaze remained transfixed on Pike as the horrifying implication began to set in. They wanted the two of us to… fight?

HOLY SHIT! the voice cut in. That sounds awesome! Happy fucking birthday to me!

“What!” I shouted in disbelief, “B-but, I don’t want to fight.”

Sounds to me like you don’t have much of a choice, kid.

I shook my head, “No, I won’t do it. Heroes don’t fight just because somepony said so, or to save their own skin. They fight to protect others and-”

You saying you’d rather die?

“N-no,” I muttered, “but… I can’t… I won’t-”

You will, or we’re both fucked. If it helps, just imagine you’re saving me! Ain’t that what you said heroes do? Come on, just how many ponies are you planning on saving when you’re dead on the floor of this fucking hole!

My breath caught in my throat, and a sense of dread crashed over me, “I… I… but-”

Listen, the voice softened its tone, life ain’t all black and white, you should know that better than anypony. This might seem a little fucked now, but just imagine all the good you’ll do once we get out of here. That grateful brother of yours just sold out faster than a two-bit whore during shore leave. You really think he’ll keep up this little hero charade? And besides, you can always ask for forgiveness, a small bit of warmth cast over me, like somepony draping a leg across my shoulders, right?

Before I could answer, Bullwhip continued his monologue above, “Here’s the rules, two ponies go down there, one comes out. If Pike wins, his loyalty is proven, and all is forgiven. But if by the holiest grace of those cunts in the sky Venture wins, well, we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. ‘But Boss,’ I hear y’all askin’, ‘how’s watchin’ one big retard smash a lil’ traitor’s head against the floor entertainin’, ain’t this a bit one-sided?’ And to that I say, y’all are right. So I think I’ve come up with a way for the lil’ shit-shoveler to last more than a couple seconds.” His gaze turned toward Pike, “Do it.”

Something sharp jabbed into my front leg, causing me to cry out in pain and surprise. Turning toward my brother, I could see he’d lowered his head and jabbed the dirty-looking needle into my flesh. With his tongue, the red giant pushed down the plunger, and a tingling warmth shot into me.

Immediately, I could feel my heart kick itself into a gear I didn’t even know was possible, the edges of my vision turned red, and a searing spasm shot through my bloodstream. I cried out, clutching at the entry point of the substance, desperately trying to claw whatever it was out of me. “Wh-what was th-that P-Pike,” I stuttered, “M-my b-blood f-feels like… Like. It’s. On. Fire!” I screamed the last words, unable to cope with the torment assaulting me.

“Stay calm,” Pike whispered quietly, “be over soon.”

His words did little to soothe me as I continued sputtering incoherently against the floor. I devolved into a fit of coughs as the blaze coursing through me reached my throat, then continued on toward my head. The veins along my skull began to pulse, and I grit my teeth as the substance roared across my consciousness. Suddenly, the burning sensation began to withdraw, the convulsions ceased, and the world seemed to fall away. A ferocity I didn’t think I was capable of feeling crashed against the walls of my resolve, and a single, fervid desire overtook of me.

I really wanted to kill something.

Hoooooly shiiiiiiit, kid, the voice drawled. We gots to get us some more of that, feels like a hoofjob and a kick in the skull. I’m lovin’ it.

“Yeah,” I gasped as the scorching adrenaline shot through me. Shakily, I brought myself back to my hooves, and levelled my gaze at Pike. The red edges of my vision narrowed until only my brother remained in view, and an irrational smile began to spread across my face.

“Ha,” Bullwhip called from above, “ain’t nothin’ like a little Rage to turn a pitiful little shit into a killin’ machine.”

Before I could even register my father’s words, I felt my legs galloping beneath me, and the tingling sensation of a spell began to form in my horn. Pike’s eyes widened in shock just before I reached him. A hysterical shout left my lungs, and the building magic discharged in a blinding flash of light. An immediate resistance slammed against my head, but some alien force drove me forward until the pressure shattered, and a resounding boom echoed all around me.

Breathing heavily, I found I’d shut my eyes. As they began to slowly peel open, I saw Pike was no longer where he’d been standing, but was now in a crumpled heap on the other side of the Pit. A smoldering mark lay at my hooves, the remnants of whatever spell I’d just managed to cast. The wicked grin still plastered across my face, I began a slow stroll toward my prostrate brother. Some rational part of my mind kicked and screamed, begging me to think about what I was doing, but it was easy enough to ignore. My desire was now perfectly clear, and the who or why was irrelevant.

Irrelevant? the voice asked, its tone sounding euphoric. Are you fucking with me? After everything you did for him, this shit head still sold you down river.

“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, continuing my approach. The mound of red flesh began to stir, and Pike raised his head with a dazed expression on his face. As the red slaver regained his faculties, he turned slowly back toward me. A nervous shake overtook the giant as our gazes locked.

You put your life on the line for him, the voice cooed, and he stabbed you in the back.

My jaw clenched as a roaring blaze of anger overtook me, and the pitiful sight of my brother merely stoaked the flames.

He doesn’t regret turning you in, he just didn’t know what you were capable of. He didn’t think you could win.

My lips turned up in a snarl at the voice’s words. The actual truthfulness in them meant little, but they were exactly what I wanted to hear.

He’s a pathetic coward that was willing to kill the only pony that treated him like more than a braindead slaver. Somepony like that doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

My shoulders began to heave up and down as my breathing deepened and grew more rapid. The voice’s urging kicked up a frenzy of emotion, further driving me to enact whatever violence I deemed necessary.

Time to go to work, hero, it continued menacingly, time to fight the villain.

With a righteous cry, I galloped once more toward Pike. A brilliant incandescence radiated from my horn, and I braced myself to splatter the traitorous pony against the nearest wall. My heart continued its rapid beat, further fueling the furor of anticipation building within me. The distance between us closed, and I prepared to unleash all the fury building up inside-

A hoof slammed into the side of my head. The force of the blow sent me sailing across the cavern and slamming into a stone pillar. As the air in my lungs heaved out in one large gasp, so too did the mounting magical energy stored in my horn. With a deafening crack, the force of the unleashed spell shattered the column, raining shards of rock down upon me. As I blinked away the dust drifting down, I could see Pike had lifted himself off the floor, and was stalking over to me with a slight limp.

I put a hoof on the shattered column, and tried to lift myself up. The middle of the pillar had become a jagged stalagmite, making it difficult to gain any grip against its surface. The red slaver began to pick up the pace, and quickly closed the space between us. As he glared down at me, I swore I could see a bit of reservation in his expression.

“What’re you doin’, Pike?” I could hear Bullwhip call. “Take that lil’ fucker down, or do you not remember what I told you?”

My brother twitched his head in a reserved nod, then the giant slowly rose up on his hind legs. He stood still for a moment, letting the tension in the air thicken into an uncomfortable cloud, before bringing his hooves down toward me.

With plenty of forewarning, and the heightened awareness offered by the chem, I leapt out of the way and crashed against the stone floor a few feet away. Pain shot through my head, an obvious result of Pike’s earlier blow, and yet it didn’t seem to bother me much. The feeling was there, but my mind placed its importance far below my desire to end the pony slowly approaching me again.

I puzzled over that last move, wondering why he’d broadcasted his intent so clearly. Weren’t we supposed to be fighting, shouldn’t he be trying to kill me? Even with that limp, I knew he could maneuver much faster. I growled in frustration, enraged from the coward’s reticence.

Uh, the voice said. I didn’t mean to imply he couldn’t still kick your ass, and there ain’t no way in hell you’re gonna be able to overpower him like that. You’re gonna need to start fighting smarter, not harder.

“What… do you… suggest?” I wheezed.

Well, it continued, you probably know that dumb bastard better than anypony, you’ve gotta know something that’ll get under his skin.

“How’s that supposed… to help?” I asked, finally getting a proper lungful of air.

The voice groaned. If you get somepony mad enough, it began patronisingly, they’ll start fighting with their heart, not their head. Thusly, fuck ups will occur, and you can make your move.

I nodded in agreement before rising back to my hooves.

Teeth bared, I began gathering magic once more. The shimmering light quickly encompassed the cavern, and I began to ponder the voice’s advice. What could I say to get under Pike’s skin? What did I know about the giant pony that would get him to start fighting irrationally? A few answers began to trickle in, and my smile returned in all of its manic glory. If I were to use that blasting spell again, I needed to get nice and close.

“Hey d-dummy,” I called across the Pit, halting Pike’s advance.

Ooo, scathing, the voice commented sarcastically. Come on, kid, you can do better than that.

Despite the weakness of the insult, I could make out a distinct look of confusion and hurt spreading across my brother’s face. A twinge of remorse struck me, but it was quickly consumed by the murderous desire that continued to burn. I grit my teeth again, and steeled myself against any further guilt toward this pony. Like the voice said, he didn’t deserve it.

“After everything I did for you,” I shouted, “this is how you show how much you care?! How much you appreciate everything I sacrificed?!” I began my own advance toward Pike, causing the giant to begin shakily backing away.

“N-no,” he stuttered, “Ah don’t-”

“Do you even know what I’ve been through down here?!” I interrupted, letting the rage coursing through me poison my words, “Or were you just too stupid to notice? I’ve been starved, beaten, raped, and, still every time you showed up I put on a happy face. Put my own damage aside just for you, just to make you feel like you were worth a damn!”

“Ah… Ah…” Pike responded, “B-but… lil’ broth-”

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that!” I shrieked, cutting him off again. “Now I know what you really are. A pathetic, spineless, dumb-shit coward!”

The red giant’s jaw dropped, and it began to quiver as I continued my verbal assault. The dawning of tears appeared in his widened eyes, causing a sickening pleasure to erupt in my heart. I was getting to him.

Shit, the voice chimed in, I didn’t think you had it in you. Now let’s drive it home. It’s time to really piss him off.

I nodded my agreement before letting loose my trump card, “Guess that explains why you couldn’t save me...” my voice lowered to a growl, “... or Cinnamon.”

My brother’s look of hurt was replaced with a morbid realization, and quickly followed by a barely contained rage.

“Don’t,” he muttered quietly.

“You know I was apart from her for quite some time, while I was trying to save her life,” I called, continuing my approach. “Do you think, when she knew it was over, that she cried out for you?”

“Stop,” Pike snapped, his repressed anger spilling over into his words.

“How do you think that poor mare felt,” I went on, finally arriving in front of the slaver and shoving my face into his, “when she realized that the pony she’d been comforting, the only friend she had, was putting the recapture of slaves over her life?”

“I said stop,” the giant pony growled.

My smile only widened, it was time to end this verbal offensive. “I was there you know, at the end. Holding her while she slowly died. Wanna know what she said?”

Pike’s gaze had dropped to the floor, and he shook his head from side to side before an animalistic roar erupted from his throat. The giant drew back a foreleg and swiped vaguely in my direction. The windup of the swing gave plenty of time for me to roll out of the way, then release the pent up magic I’d been drawing in this whole time. It was more energy than I’d ever successfully dealt with before, and the pressure on my horn felt like an ocean leaking through a garden hose. A searing pain erupted in my forehead, but a moment later the strain instantly eased and another boom resounded throughout the pit.

This time, however, the force of the blast was enough to propel me backwards and slam once more into the same stalagmite. A field of stars danced in my vision, and a warm liquid began pouring down the back of my neck. As the ringing reduced to silence, I could make out the voice chastising me.

Come on, kid, it was saying, you read, dont’cha? Isn’t there something about third laws and apples that you’re forgetting about here?

“Wh- wha-” I mumbled dazedly, rubbing the back of my skull. As I brought my hoof back into view, I could see it smeared with red.

Shit, the voice commented, that ain’t good.

Ignoring the comment, I craned my neck backwards, and found the top of the jagged stone spire was splattered with blood. If I’d hit the pillar just a few inches higher, I would’ve been impaled through the neck. Hopefully a concussion was the only thing I had to contend with.

Whipping back around, I saw Pike had already begun to pick himself back up. The giant’s coat was now stained with dirt and darker patches of red. Otherwise, he looked none the worse for wear. A look of unbridled contempt was plastered across his face as he began slowly approaching me.

Oh for fuck’s sake, the voice whined, what the hell does it take to kill this shithead?

My mind was racing, desperately trying to formulate a plan, but my thinking was muddied and sluggish. Every fiber of my being just wanted to beat Pike to death, and that desire overrode any tactical thinking I could possibly come up with.

Think fast, genius, the voice urged. Don’t know about you, but I ain’t a big fan of being smeared across the cave floor when that lummox bashes your brain open against that pillar.

Wait, I thought, the pillar? Quickly turning my head once more, I spied the blood-smeared, viciously sharp stalagmite, and an idea began to form.

What’re you thinking? the voice asked in a pleased, questioning tone.

I didn’t need to answer, that would be apparent soon enough. I glared daggers back at my brother, “You didn’t give me a chance to finish before.”

Pike didn’t halt his approach, but the hateful scowl deepened.

“Cinnamon’s last words,” I continued, garnering a sadistic joy from the reaction I knew I’d receive. “‘Where’s Pike?’” my voice lowered to a menacing whisper as I continued the lie, “and then she died screaming.”

Pike bared his teeth, and a savage snarl escaped his lips. The lumbering giant charged at me until he braced his rear legs and leapt into the air. Time seemed to slow as the slaver sailed forward, and all four hooves aligned themselves to pulverise me into a red stain on the cavern floor. I felt almost paralyzed, shocked at the grace such a large creature could exhibit when pressed. Reaching the pinnacle of the jump’s arc, Pike began his descent, and I smiled wickedly as I saw where he would land.

With a final heave, I leapt out of the way. Instead of the expected boom of impact, the air filled with the wet sound of tearing flesh, followed by a shocked, sodden choking. Turning around, I felt my crazed grin spread wider at the sight.

Pike’s hooves had planted in the ground almost exactly where I’d just lain, but the jagged spire of rock had impeded his descent as it pierced his chest. A flowing cascade of the giant’s blood dribbled from the wound, pooling beneath him in a crimson puddle. An anguished gurgling was the only sound escaping my brother’s lips and, in a pathetic attempt to ease the suffering, he desperately tried to heave his bulk from the anchoring stalagmite.

Damn, son! the voice exclaimed. That was fucking slick! Did you see the look on that retard’s face? It lowered its tone into a mocking interpretation of Pike, Oh, I’m gonna stomp you into- WHOOPS! Impaled myself. Then it devolved into a maniacal cackle.

Spurred by the voice’s praise, I slowly pulled myself back to my hooves and approached the dying slaver. My body screamed at me from the collection of injuries I’d acquired, but the chem urged me forward, demanded that the job be finished, that this traitorous fuck’s blood be splattered against-

What was I doing?

All at once, the burning rage in my heart extinguished, the murderous desires receded, and the horrifying reality that was the last few minutes crashed down on me as if the Pit itself had caved in. The various aches and pains reignited in excruciating vividness, my body began to shiver, and an overwhelming nausea forced me to keel over and vomit a bright orange slime across the floor.

As the worst of the side-effects began to abate, I nervously raised my head and took in the sickening visage. A disturbing shake had overtaken my brother as he accepted the futility in trying to escape. A continual stream of red poured from the sides of his mouth, and the gore pooling beneath the gaping wound spread until it reached my frozen hooves. I sprang back from the warmth, my eyes grew wide in horror, and it took all of my faculties to not keel over again as a newfound sickness struck me.

“Wh-what’ve I done?” I stuttered.

Uh, you won? the voice offered.

A raucous sob escaped my mouth. Ignoring the grotesque warmth encompassing my hooves, I leapt toward my brother. I swiftly began checking him over to see if there was anything I could do, anything that could reverse the atrocity I’d just committed. Tears streamed down my face in a shimmering cascade, making subtle splashes as they landed in the spilled blood.

“P-Pike…” I sputtered after several seconds, “p-please, don’t die. I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean any of that. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to-”

“Ah… know,” he gasped.

“Wh-what,” I asked, surprised at the calmness in my brother’s tone.

A few wet coughs escaped the red giant’s mouth, spattering the cave wall with crimson spots, before he continued, “Pa said… if we… didn’ figh’… he’d kill… us both.”

“But why the chem?” I questioned, my blubbering continuing to interrupt my speech, “If I’d known... I-I would’ve let you win. I don’t want you to d-”

“Mah… idea,” Pike interrupted. “Ah knew… ya would’ve’… lemme win. Ah wan’ed… you t’ live, but… it had… t’ look… real.” My brother shakily raised his head, “Ah saw… what you… was doin’... an’ Ah think… it worked.”

“No… please,” I begged as I threw my legs around the dying pony and buried my face in his coat. Hundreds of signals from pain to my body’s revulsion at the soft embrace bombarded my mind, and I did everything I could to shut them out.

“It’s ok… I wan’ed this… ya jus’... have t’… promise… promise t’-”

Another fit of coughs cut Pike off, and his breathing grew rapid, but shallow. I cried out in distress, “Promise what? I’ll do- I’ll do anything you want, I swear.”

The giant’s gaze softened, and a small, warm smile spread across his face, “Promise… that ya… won’... be… like… us.” He delicately raised a leg and draped it across my shoulders, “Promise… t’ live… an’ that… one day… you’ll be… a… hero.”

I wiped a hoof across my eyes, “I-I promise, Pike. I won’t let you down.”

Pike’s smile widened as the convulsions reached a fevered rhythm. “Ah know… ya will. Ah… love ya… lil’ broth-.” A final gasp left the giant’s throat and he fell limp, dragging his body further down the stalagmite. The weight from the limb began to crush me, forcing me to squirm out from beneath my brother.

My lips quivered and, once more, my vision began to tunnel until only the grisly corpse remained in view. My legs buckled, collapsing me back to the rocky floor. My eyes sealed shut, and my lips peeled back in a snarl. The torrent of grief and regret bubbled up in my chest, demanding some form of release.

With few options as to how, I raised my head to the sky and poured my heart into a blood-chilling scream. The echoes reverberated around the cavern, hammering back against my ears in an endless feedback loop of anguish. As my breath ran short, I pulled in a shaky gasp before continuing the howl. Memories of my unjustly short time with Pike flashed in front of my eyes, further increasing the veracity in my cries. A metallic taste sprouted across my tongue, and my throat felt in danger of rupturing. Soon, a meek wheeze was all that escaped my lips.

Uh, kid? the voice asked tentatively. You might wanna-

“You,” I growled menacingly, turning the whirlwind of emotion ravaging me toward the voice, toward the being that’d goaded my chem-addled mind into committing these unspeakable horrors. “You… you made me do this. You made me kill my brother!”

Ok, first, the voice began, offense coloring its tone, that’s a real fucking nice thing to say to the… thing, I guess, that just saved your sorry ass. And two, all I did was give you a couple pointers. Turning him into a dumbass-kabob? That was all you, buddy.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, “you’re not my friend!”

Now that’s a pretty shortsighted thing to say, it commented, seeing as how I’m the only one you got left. Want more evidence? Look up, genius.

My eyes widened in realization. I’d completely forgotten we weren’t alone, an entire audience was just a few meters above me.

And they’d just watch me kill one of their own.

I raised my gaze toward the Pit’s entrance, only to find a group of shocked expressions glaring down at me. Silence pervaded the crowd, furthering the mounting tension that had permeated the space. Nopony moved, nopony seemed to even breathe, only the strained quiet remained.

Finally, after an insufferable stretch of time, Bullwhip’s expression turned from surprise to one of rage. The orange slaver lifted the rifle again, braced the stock against his shoulder, and fitted the firing mechanism in his teeth.

“You Goddess-damned little...” he growled as he placed me directly in the gun’s sight.

I yelped in fear, dropped to the floor, closed my eyes, and threw my hooves over my head. “No, please…” I managed to squeak.

“That was fucking wicked!” another voice shouted.

Shaking, I slowly lowered my hooves and peered up toward the source of the interruption. A green, earth pony buck was prancing around the circumference of the entrance, blocking my father’s view and delaying my imminent execution. The buck’s mane was a brilliant gold, and I could faintly see the outline of three white dice adorning his flank. His excitement was palpable, and obviously contagious if the excited murmurs and smiles spreading throughout the crowd were any indication.

The buck continued, “Did y’all see the way the kid picked apart that big lummox? HO-LY FUCK! I ain’t never seen nopony pick a fight like that. That was some straight up psycho shit! And the way he was slingin’ those spells? Like a fuckin’ fireworks show. Now that was Goddess-damned entertainin’” The slaver turned his attention toward a particular white, unicorn mare. The same, I recognized, that’d executed Lullaby’s husband all those days ago. “What’d we agree the odds against the kid were again, Canvas?”

The mare turned away and mumbled something incoherently.

“What was that?” the buck inquired, throwing on a big, toothy smile and leaning toward the stoic slaver.

She sighed in exasperation, “Fifty to one, Bookie.”

“And,” he went on, the subtle hint of laughter hidden in his tone, “if I ain’t mistaken, I’m the only one who placed my bet on him. Twenty caps, if I do recall.” Bookie turned his attention toward the entirety of the crowd, “Pay up, bitches.”

A displeased grumbling replaced the excited whispers. The amassed slaver’s reached for their saddlebags to hand over the winnings. Soon, a sizeable pile of caps was jingling around in the beaming buck’s grasp.

I realized how distracted I’d become with the confusing scene, and I turned my attention back toward the more pressing matter. Bullwhip had also began to scrutinize the transaction, a look of curious perplexity now adorning his face. As the victorious gambler began to trot away with his earnings, my father cleared his throat, “Now Bookie, I’m sure you recall that I, as leader of this merry band, have a ten percent fee for all betting pools.”

Bookie turned back toward the orange slaver, sporting a knowing grin. “O’ course, Boss,” he responded before tossing a small sack of caps at Bullwhip. Then he turned back toward the other attendees, “And don’t worry y’all, I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to make it back next time. Right boss?” he finished, directing the last question back at my father.

“Sure,” he murmured, jingling the sack on his hoof, “next time.”

The crowd struck back up into an excited fervor as they began to disperse. Many took envious glances at the small fortune Bookie had amassed, before devolving into conversations ranging from who the next opponent would be, if my victory was just a fluke, or where their bets should lie on the next go around.

As the final ponies disappeared from view, I saw my father’s shoulders begin to shake before he threw back his head and let a triumphant cackle escape into the sky. “Hoo boy,” he said after a few moments, wiping a hoof across his eyes, “I can honestly say, that is the last fuckin’ thing I expected outta that lot.” The orange slaver’s gaze returned to me, “I thought you winnin’ woulda had them wantin’ to tear you apart, seein’ as how you weren’t the most popular kid around beforehand, and now they’re gonna be doin’ all of Pike’s work. Guess that just goes to show what a little showmanship, and the chance at strikin’ rich, can do for morale. Good work, boy.”

I was taken aback at the praise. “Good work?” I repeated. “I just killed your son.”

“And?” Bullwhip shot back.

Anger overtook me once more, “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!” I shouted, “Don’t you care about him at all?!”

“You’re talkin’ like I can’t just make another one,” he spat condescendingly. “Besides, losin’ that retard ain’t nothin’ compared to what that lot woulda done if I just sat on my hooves.”

“What?”

“I’mma fill you in on somethin’, boy,” the orange slaver began. “I wasn’t lyin’ before, the situation ‘tween the workers and I has been a little tense since your stunt with the jailbreak. Nopony likes missin’ payday, and the first one they’re gonna be thinkin’ to take their frustration out on it is the one charge. Namely, yours truly.”

Bullwhip raised a hoof to beneath his chin and adopted a ponderous look. “But they loved watchin’ you fight, even though most of ‘em just lost everythin’, ‘least till we get another deal lined up. So I’m thinkin’, maybe we can work somethin’ out. Keep this little show of ours a’goin’.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked nervously, although the implication seemed painfully obvious.

“Well,” Bullwhip began, looking back at the sack of caps, “what if we make this whole arena business a permanent staple of our lil’ community? I’m sure there ain’t no shortage of slaves willin’ to fight for their freedom, and I’m pretty sure you’re not too keen on me followin’ through with puttin’ a bullet through your skull. Seems like a worthy investment to lose a couple bits of rowdy stock in exchange for a lil’ morale boost and, to be honest, you’ve been more profitable to me down there than you ever were shovelin’ shit up here. So here’s what I’m thinkin’, you put on a lil’ show for this lot whenever I toss somepony down there, and you get to keep on livin’ as long as you keep winnin’.”

“B-but, I-”

“And, shoot, I’m feelin’ mighty generous right now. I’ll go ahead and make sure that sick fuck of a brother of yours stays outta your ass. Not only that, but you’ll have all the…” he glanced at the fallen Rage needle, shattered at some point during the fight, “motivation that you’ll ever need. How’s that sound?”

“I- I-”

“Before ya go and say somethin’ you’ll regret,” Bullwhip interrupted, “I’ll go ahead and let ya sleep on it. But rest assured, boy… ,” he turned his back on me and took hold of the metal dome, “that’s the only way you’ll be livin’ through another day in that hole. So think hard, and I’ll be back in the mornin’.”

The hatch shrieked a final time before slamming shut. Darkness once more encompassed my world, leaving me alone with the corpse of my savior, and the voice that’d helped me kill him.

“I won’t do it,” I spat for the thousandth time.

You know, you keep saying that, the voice mused, but I’m having a little trouble believing you’re actually that stupid.

“I’m not gonna play their games,” I growled, ignoring the insult. “I made a promise that I won’t end up like them, that I’ll-”

Live, it responded coldly. I was here the whole time, kid, and the other thing that carousel horse-lookin’ motherfucker told you to do was live.

“He sacrificed himself for me!” I shouted, enraged by the voice’s uncouth comparison. “He was my brother, my friend. The only pony left in this Goddess-damned place that gave a shit about me, and you’re making jokes?!”

Oh, the voice said, I didn’t realize the appropriate response was to bitch and mope around. You know, at least until you make his sacrifice completely fucking meaningless when you die to that sadistic piece of shit.

“It won’t be mean-” I stopped myself, realizing the morbid truth hidden in the voice’s blunt declaration. There had to be another answer, and I wracked my mind for anything that could let me keep my promise without becoming part of Bullwhip’s bloody sideshow.

Look, the voice interjected, following my line of thinking, the way I see it, you got three options. One, you don’t accept and you die.

I shuddered as I pictured my father returning, taking aim as I cowered and begged for mercy, before putting me down.

Two, you do accept, decide not to fight out of some misguided sense of morality and… you still die.

Flashes of some muscular slave beating me into an unrecognizable pulp played next, drawing a frail whimper from my lips.

Or three, you accept and use this as an opportunity.

“Opportunity?” I asked pensively.

Yeah, ‘cause let’s be real here, there’s no way in hell you would’ve won that fight if Pike wasn’t taking it easy on you. Now, how exactly do those heroes you’re always going on about deal with the baddies?

“Well,” I began, “first they ask them to surrender-”

The voice scoffed before drawing out, Boooriiing.

“Then,” I continued, trying to contain my frustration, “if that doesn’t work, they’ll fight until they’re able to bring the villain to justice.”

And do you know how to fight?

“W-well, um, maybe. I mean, I’ve-”

Never been in a real fight in your life, have you?

“No,” I admitted shamefully.

And that’s what makes this an opportunity, the voice said. These fanciful ideas dancing around in here with me won’t mean a damn thing if you can’t follow through. You need practice, kid, and an assembly line of ponies with the sole intent of crushing that noble little skull of yours seem like just the ticket. You gotta learn how to fight, and how to kill.

“I… I can’t,” I stated morbidly. “It’s one thing to… k-kill in self-defense, but killing ponies that are just fighting for their freedom? That’s not what a hero would do, that’s not justice, that’s-”

Ok, lemme try and explain this another way. What does ‘justice’ mean?

“No one pony can decide what justice means, not even a hero. The best method is to bring villains to jail, so the authorities can decide what-”

Gonna go ahead and stop you there, it interrupted again. When was the last time you saw a jail or, for that matter, anypony dumb enough to try and run one? Do you really think that anypony would be willing to try and lock up slaving pieces of shit like your father and unremorseful rapists like your degenerate brother? And even if there was, do they deserve a second chance?

“Um…” I stammered, starting to see where the voice was going.

Maybe in the candy-colored, cutesy, always-winds-up-with-a-happy-ending world of the Power Pussies, that noble way of thinking might have some merit. But we don’t live there, we live in the brown and red, hideous, stick-a-knife-or-dick-into-anything-that-doesn’t-agree-with-you-and-get -away-with-it-because-nopony-has-the-balls-to-risk-their-necks wasteland that we see today. And you honestly think, in a world like this, that a hero wouldn’t kill?

“But it’s wrong!” I cried, still desperate to find some other answer.

Well that’s one fine and dandy opinion you got yourself there, the voice snapped. But you know, the thing about opinions, they’re kinda like assholes. Everypony’s got one, and some of them really stink. Here’s the big truth you’re so conveniently forgetting, nopony will get justice doing things your way. You’ll die, the ponies you want to protect will die, and this marble will keep on spinning with pricks like Bullwhip and Chance running the show. That is, unless somepony does something about it. This world doesn’t need band-aid fixes and noble sentiments, it needs a final solution. Preferably in the form of a bullet.

“Why should I listen to you?” I muttered. “I don’t know what sick, depraved part of my mind created you, but because of you, I said all those horrible things to Pike. After everything I did for him, trying to make him realize how special and important he was, letting him know he could confide anything with me. Then you made me use that trust to hurt him, to kill him, to-”

And if he wasn’t letting you win, the voice interrupted again, do you think you could have won any other way?

“I… no,” I relented.

Because getting inside somepony’s head is a real smart way to win if you ain’t got the muscle to fall back on, it stated. That’s why you should listen to me. I know how to make sure we live through this, no matter what. You might hate me now, but once we’re outta here, saving the day left and right, basking in the glory and adoration of everypony you help, and making that brother of yours proud that you kept your promise, you’ll be thanking me. But that can’t happen if you die down here. So ask yourself something, are a few unimportant, selfish lives worth depriving the wasteland of the great Venture Forth, champion of the innocent and smiter of evil? I think you can really make a difference, kid, but you need to have the guts to pull the trigger when necessary. That’s the only way to change anything, and the only way you’re getting out of here.

I had trouble buying into the praise, especially after everything the voice had done, but it was starting to make some modicum of sense. With everything I’d been forced to witness, could I really deny what it was saying? I wanted to help create a better world, but was the only way of accomplishing that goal to make it a bit bloodier first, to do what nopony else seemed capable of?

But what if I was just afraid to die? What if this confliction was just spawned from my own selfish desire to live? Was my life truly that much more valuable than anypony else’s?

Only one way to find out, kid.

I nodded shakily at the statement. Maybe it was futile, trying to be a truly good pony in this fucked up world. If I wanted to make a difference, then sacrifices would have to be made. Beyond the voice’s convincing, it was Pike’s actions that made me realize that more than anything. My brother had given his life to make sure I’d survive, and I couldn’t let what he’d done be in vain.

However, if I truly wanted to keep my promise, I also had to resist the callousness this world continually tried to instill. I couldn’t become complacent, I couldn’t let killing lose its impact, especially if I was going to be the one doing it.

With that assurance in mind, I stalked over to one of the cavern walls, snatching a shard of rock in my blue aura as I went. With a subtle push of magic, the top of my music box opened and the happy tune began to fill the dreary space. The soft, smile-inducing melody began to calm the discord rampaging through my mind.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the rocky wall before carving into it.

Uh, the voice said perplexed, not sure what drawing pictures is gonna do but-

“I’m remembering,” I snapped, cutting the voice off. Once finished, three names were carved into the stone, “I won’t let myself forget what I’ve done here. Every death I cause, I’ll get their name. And then, one day, I’ll know how many lives I’ve taken, and just how much I’ll have to make up for.”

I directed my hoof at the first name, “Syringe.” I moved it slightly to the right, “Lullaby.” Finally, I faced the final name, and a gentle sob escaped me before I said, “Pike.”

My gaze dropped to the floor, and I felt several tears drip from my muzzle.

“I promise you, all of you, that I will honor your sacrifices. When I finally leave this place, I will help make the world a better place. I will do better.”

So you gonna keep talking to the wall? the voice asked patronisingly. You keep that up and ponies might start thinking you’re crazy.

“What’s your name?” I asked quietly.

You’re really not getting this whole ‘voice in your head thing, are you? I don’t have one.

“Well, I can’t just keep calling you the voice.”

What’d you have in mind?

“Well,” I responded as inspiration began to dawn, “I remember reading a story when I was younger. It was about a filly lost in the forest. She was scared and alone, convinced the entire world had abandoned her, until an air spirit appeared. It comforted the girl, told her not to be afraid, and led her back home.”

Yeah? the voice said, curiosity coloring its tone.

“So if you’re really here to help me, then maybe the spirit’s name would be fitting.”

Well let me just take a look.

“What do you-” I began to ask before stopping myself. Duh, it was in my head. I was sure that if there was anything the voice wanted to know, it could easily find out. It was a bit disconcerting, but what choice did I have?

The voice was quiet for a bit before saying, Huh, I like it. Short and to the point. The turn key on the music box chose that moment to finish unwinding, once more plunging the cavern into a menacing silence.

The voice made a noise like somepony clearing their throat, It’s a pleasure to meet you, Venture Forth. You can call me Koe.

Author's Notes:

The quote for this chapter is from Johnny The Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez