Fallout Equestria: Insanity's Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 3: Echo Chamber

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.

Thirteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

Unicorn buck, black coat, silver mane, emaciated body, shears for a cutie mark. He held a broken pool cue in a white, magical aura, though it shook in his grasp. He scanned the darkness, eyes growing wide, sweat dripping down his coat, knees knocking together.

Fear, it poured out of him like a broken dam. He didn’t even attempt to put on a brave face.

These were the worst to deal with. I can handle bravado, malice, anger. That behavior made the act easier, allowed me to believe the fate about to be brought down on them was somehow deserved. The scared ones, however, made me think about what I was doing. It’s harder to pretend when they’re begging and crying. He’ll scream, but I have to ignore him, just like the others.

After all, I’m gonna be a hero.

He looked up through the hole in the ceiling at the amassed slavers. They’re obviously excited, but mostly silent so as not to miss a single moment of my performance. Only hushed murmurs echoed down from the crowd when Bookie would pass by, taking down bets and collecting funds with a morbid sense of glee. The stage had been set and it was time to start the show.

“A-are you sure somepony else is down here?” the buck stuttered.

“Oh yeah, he’s down there alright,” Bullwhip called from above. My father was standing at his usual place, a small platform built to give him a clear view of the entire cavern. Chance, however, was conspicuously absent. My brother had stopped attending my fights some time ago. At first, he seemed to enjoy watching me struggle. But soon enough, after my skills had grown and my victories came easier, he’d stopped showing up.

It felt like my first real victory against him.

“And if I win, if I…” the buck swallowed hard, and I was close enough to see his throat bulge, “kill him, I can go free?”

“That’s what I said,” the orange slaver stated calmly.

“My brothers too?” the slave continued, suspicion creeping into his tone.

“Do I look like a lyin’ buck to you?” Bullwhip asked, his lips peeling back in a disconcerting grin. “You bring me the Pit Buck’s head, and y’all can walk right on out of here today.”

Dammit, I swore to myself. Why do they always have to talk about themselves?

Oh don’t get all sentimental on me now, Koe whined. It’s not like we haven’t heard a more pathetic sob story.

Please stop, I begged the voice.

Don’t you remember those two bitches a couple weeks back? Koe asked, repressing giggles. ‘Please, my daughter’s crippled,’ he began in a mocking interpretation of a mare’s voice. ‘Can’t you find it in your heart to-’ and then you bashed her fucking skull in. Hilarious.

I don’t… I don’t want to think about it, I thought back. The shame I felt from that incident haunted me in a way that few of the others ever had. That mare’s pleading, horror-stricken face would be forever burned into my memory

Kinda deja vue-ish, wouldn’t ya say? Takes me back to one of your first kills. The voice sighed happily, Ah, memories.

Please, I pleaded. The buck was searching the cavern again, I’d need to move quickly to catch him unaware.

Well, at least that bitch wasn’t lying to you. I nearly busted a gut when that three legged little filly got down here screaming, ‘I’m gonna get him for you, mama.’ The voice devolved into a fit of raucous laughter. She could barely hold that club. Whoever’s been handing out the weapons lately has got one hell of a sense of humor.

The charcoal pony had finished his inspection of the Pit’s perimeter, and had now set his sights on the only other place someone could hide down here. The pile of sand currently shrouding me.

I shuffled nervously as the slave approached. Regardless of how many times I’ve been forced to do this, the act never seemed to become any easier. I suppose, in some twisted way, I can extract a measure of hope from that. It meant that I hadn’t completely lost myself yet, that the remnants of my conscience still registered the horrifying acts I committed. But reality soon began to sink in, and I levelled my breathing in an attempt to steady my jackhammering heart.

There was no more time to delay.

Fucking finally, Koe sighed in exasperation. Shoot up and let’s get this started.

I don’t need it, I thought back instantly. My hoof gently touched the syringe by my side, stroking its smooth exterior and fantasizing about the wondrous chem trapped within.

Seriously? Koe asked in disbelief. You, literally, say that every time. We’ve been working on this for years now and you still haven’t realized that your pussy-ass sensibilities ain’t gonna let you do what needs to be done? Stop lying to yourself and shoot up. At least when you’re rolling you’re not such a whiny twit.

I said I don’t need it, I reiterated angrily. My words felt hollow. Rage made the task easier, there was no doubting that. The piles of bodies I’d built were more often than not constructed under its influence. But I hated what it turned me into. A remorseless, bloodthirsty killing machine. An architect of death and suffering.

A monster.

Prove it, Koe whispered tauntingly.

I snarled aloud, startling the slave poking apprehensively at the pile of sand. My horn burst into an incandescent blue, and a wild whirlwind kicked up in the enclosed space. Rocks, debris, and large deposits of the gritty dirt laid atop me began whipping around the Pit in a stinging vortex. The swiftly diminishing pile soon revealed my prostrate form, giving me a clear view of the retreating buck. The silver-maned pony had sealed his eyelids shut, and was swinging the pool cue wildly in a futile defense against the encroaching gale.

He looked helpless and terrified, an easy target. Slowly, I began stalking toward the blinded buck. My hoofsteps were but a gentle whisper compared to the squall overtaking the Pit. Soon enough, I was within leg’s reach, and the necessary steps for my victory became clear. Rip the pool cue out of his grasp, smash it into one of his leg’s, extract the information I need, then finish it quick. Not the most entertaining show I’ve ever put on, but results were all that mattered. I didn’t like drawing this out any longer than it had to be.

Still, a chorus of cheers erupted from above. The slavers gazed down with barbaric anticipation as they sought to have their bloodlust sated. “Pit Buck! Pit Buck! Pit Buck!” they chanted. I winced at the nickname. It was more comforting to think that the title helped my audience dehumanize me, let them see me as their prime source of entertainment instead of an ex-comrade. I didn’t like thinking ponies could be cruel enough to just want a measure of levity to go along with their bloodsport.

Just as the ethereal tendrils of my magic began to wrap around the pool cue, the slave’s eyes shot open and locked on me. His pupils shrank in a panicked reply, and the jagged edge of his weapon swung at me in an uncoordinated strike. I deftly ducked beneath the blow before grasping at the wooden pole and tearing it from his grasp. A shriek escaped the buck. I drew back the cue, ready to follow through with the strike, when a disconcerting whistle swiftly approached from behind.

I dived toward the floor just as something sailed overhead and slammed into the slave with a wet thunk. The whirlwind died as I stared at the scene in front of me.

The syringe of Rage, caught up in the angry gales of my tornado, had been flung, needle first, through the eye of my opponent. A nauseating twitch plagued the buck, and panicked chokes began escaping his lips. I swore to myself for letting my emotions get the better of me.

How was I going to get his name now?

As the dust began to settle I walked, ashamedly, toward the gathered slavers. Peering up, I saw a mixture of reactions. Excitement, disbelief, and plenty of disappointment ran rampant throughout the crowd. Too bad, I thought, their entertainment was no concern of mine.

“It’s done,” I stated simply.

“Oh really?” Bullwhip asked, leaning forward to better address me. The orange slaver wore a joyous grin, the most off-putting reaction that monster could ever show. “Might wanna rethink that, ‘cause he sure as shit is,” he finished, motioning back toward the fallen slave.

Confused, I tore my gaze from the crowd, and was greeted by the charcoal buck standing right behind me. With a surprised yelp, I leapt back from my opponent, causing a chorus of laughter to spring from the audience.

Once I’d regained some of my faculties, I further inspected the buck. The syringe still stood prominently from his eye, and even moved sickeningly as the orb scanned the area around him. Gone were the nervous shakes, now overtaken by a seething fury that I was all too familiar with. With a roar, my Rage-powered foe charged forward, lowered his head, and slammed into me. The frenzied buck kept up the charge until we both crashed against the far wall. My breath shot out of me in an aching gasp, and a barrage of pain exploded across my back.

Dazed, I felt myself slide to the floor. With a force of will, I peeled my eyes open. The slave was breathing heavily, veins protruded grotesquely from his neck, and the sclera of his remaining eye was entirely bloodshot. Burst blood vessels, one of the tamer side effects of Rage.

Holy fuck! Koe swore. That is so Goddess-damned hardcore!

The commentary isn’t helping, I thought back meekly.

What? I’ve been telling you to shove that stuff straight into your brain for a while now. I’m interested to see what it actually does.

Yeah, that’s the only reason, I responded sarcastically.

Ok, Mr. Psychoanalyst, you got me. I love the feeling and, maybe, we’re building up a wee bit of a tolerance. I’m just saying that a shot through the eye might get us back that first rush.

Maybe… I began to think, then shook my head. No, it’s not happening. I’m not an-

Addict? Koe interrupted, a hint of knowing in his tone. Then what would you call it? The shakes we get between fights? The sickness when we start withdrawing? The constant yearning that trumps our desire for food or water? You want it, I want it, and it helps us get the job done. What’s the problem?

I readied myself to respond, thinking up every half-assed argument to try and disprove the ringing truth the voice was laying down, but was instead forced to dive away from another of the maddened slave’s blows. His hooves slammed into the rocky floor, narrowly missing me, and a resounding crack echoed around the Pit.

Confused, I spared a quick glance back, and found the buck’s hooves planted inside the floor. My eyes grew wide as the implications began to register. That unicorn just broke a rock? With his hooves?!

Well, Koe said, obviously impressed, this just got a lot more interesting.

“Hey dumbass!” I called out, “When you’re done fucking up your hooficure, I’m over here.” I almost winced at the lameness of my own taunts. Koe’s method for enraging my opponents to the point of ineptitude had served me well, even if I wasn’t that capable yet. That display of strength let me see that I needed all the advantages I could get. Even the flimsiest of insults could mean all the difference.

“Get the fuck back here!” the buck snarled as he bounded after me.

Despite how tempting that prospect was, I instead focussed on keeping a safe distance between myself and the super strength-imbued stallion now screaming for my blood. In my panic, formations of scattered rocks shot into the air and sailed toward the advancing buck. Everything from pebbles to skull-crushing stones battered the charcoal pony, but all to no avail. One of the larger chunks slammed into the slave’s side, the unmistakable crack of shattering ribs echoing around the chamber, and yet the buck did not slow.

Instead, his intimidating gait transformed into a terrifying gallop. His movements, affected by both injury and chem alike, looked jerky and unnatural.

“You know,” I began, “if you were half as good at protecting your brothers as you are taking rocks to the face, you wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“I’ll rip your fucking heart out!” he screamed. His horn suddenly burst into a blinding light, and a brilliant beam of white magic fired across the Pit. I dove to the side, but the spell still managed to scorch across my flank. A piercing cry escaped me as I heard my flesh sizzle.

Focussing, I aimed one of my heavier stones at the approaching pony. With a flick of my magic, the stone fired across the space and slammed into one of the his front legs. Another snap resounded from the buck, and his forward momentum plowed straight into the rocky floor. He ended up on his back, I could clearly see the struck leg bent at an extreme angle, and a shard of bone had pierced the skin. Small spurts of blood left crimson streaks across the slave as he fought his way back to his hooves. Once righted, the broken leg apparently far from his mind, the buck stalked towards me.

“Goddess-dammit,” I swore.

What the fuck are you doing? Koe asked. You could have smashed his skull in with that shot, what the hell are you waiting for?

His name, I thought back.

Really? You’re still trying to keep that shit up?

It’s important to me, I responded.

Well, then it’s been nice knowing you.

I rolled my eyes as I shot my gaze back at the buck, only to find him crying. Well, maybe not really crying, but there definitely something pouring out of one of his eyes. I could see the syringe had been pushed further into his socket after the fall, and a constant stream of red trailed down the slave’s cheek.

An idea began to form as I stared at the wound, and my magic grasped another rock in preparation. With a shout the buck began stampeding toward me, head lowered in an attempt to impale me on his horn. Remaining calm, I waited for the distance to close. When the red of his remaining eye became clear, I fired the stone with practiced accuracy. A sharp whistle accompanied the rock’s journey, before a thump and the sound of shattering glass brought the enraged buck to a skittering halt.

Silence now plagued the Pit, and I took up the discarded pool cue as I approached the fallen slave. Towering above the supine stallion, I found his syringe skewered eye had devolved into a bloody display of minced meat. Shards of glass and bits of metal protruded from the sensitive organ, but a gasping breath let me know the blow hadn’t killed him.

A blue glow encompassed the back of the buck’s head as I gently raised him off the floor. I brought the jagged edge of the pool cue to rest against the fragile skin of his neck.

Suddenly, a terrified shriek left the slave’s throat, and his unbroken leg shot up to feel the gorey mess that remained of his eye. Panic electrified every part of the dying stallion as he thrashed and screamed. I wasn’t caught off guard by the slave’s behavior, as I was intimately familiar with the cause.

Numbed injuries suddenly exploding in agony, a burning bloodlust instantly extinguished, and rampant confusion as disconnected memories attempted to recall the last few minutes. It was horrifying, and I despised the feeling more than any other.

“Help!” he shrieked, still holding his ruined eye. “Oh Goddess it hurts! My eye, what the fuck happened to my eye?! Please!”

“Shhh,” I whispered calmly. “It’s ok, it’ll all be over soon.”

The slave’s remaining eye shot open at my voice, and the pupil shrank back in terror.

“Wait!” he cried out. “Please, don’t do this. I- I-” His voice calmed somewhat, “My name is Trim.”

Really? Koe asked again. Does he think this is actually gonna work?

I didn’t respond to the voice or the buck. I had what I needed now, but last words were the least I could give him.

“I have two-” he gulped nervously, “two little brothers, Patchwork and Spring Breeze, and I love them. I didn’t want this, I just wanted to get them to safety, back to our family. Please, can’t you understand?”

“I understand,” I said softly.

Trim’s eye brightened, “You do?”

“Of course, I know what it’s like to want to protect somepony dear to you. You’ll do anything,” I looked away from the buck, unable to meet his gaze as the words left my mouth. “So many have died down here for the exact same reason. But I don’t want that!” I shouted. “I want to help ponies, not kill them. So yes, I understand, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to help your brothers.”

“That’s why I’m doing all of this. To get stronger and fight back,” I continued. My voice cracked as rage and disgust clashed within me. The words tasted vile as they passed tongue, but this was the path I’d chosen, and I had travelled too far to turn back now. “But I can’t do that until I get out of here,” I stared into Trim’s remaining eye as hope and confusion both clashed within.

“And there's only one way to make that happen.”

I drew back the pool cue and plunged it into his neck. The sharpened wood easily pierced the tender flesh, and a crimson bubble began sprouting around the pole’s intrusion. A stream soon trailed out of the sides of his mouth and down through his nostrils. A choked death rattle bubbled out of his throat.

“It was nice to meet you, Trim,” I stated comfortingly.

A morbid shaking overtook the buck, and his fitful gurgling grew quieter. I held his gaze as the final sparks of life extinguished and the corpse finally laid still.

The silence didn’t last long as the crowd immediately reignited in cheers and excited conversation. Bets were quickly settled before the masses began to disperse, resigning themselves after the evening’s festivities.

Soon enough, only Bullship, Bookie and myself remained. The orange slaver beamed down at me, obviously pleased. “Bookie,” he began, “how much did we rake in tonight?”

“Little over two grand, boss,” the green buck stated jovially.

Bullwhip whistled, “That could hire us a couple more sets of hooves, maybe a few pieces of nice stock, or we could-”

“Uh, boss?” Bookie interrupted, starting to sound a bit more apprehensive. “Shouldn’t we maybe give a little thought to giving those caps to-”

“Are you still goin’ on ‘bout that, Bookie?” Bullwhip snapped, exasperation in his tone. “Now you listen here, that lot are our guests tonight, and I plan to be a gracious host. But I ain’t gonna have some prim and proper, little fuckstick send his people into my operation and start makin’ demands without even showin’ his own face. He can take that cult bullshit they’s spoutin’, and shove it right up his ass.”

I started listening a bit closer, this was obviously a continuation of some earlier conversation. What guests was he talking about?

“B-but boss,” the other buck responded, fear now creeping into his voice, “those messengers didn’t look like they were playing. If we ain't wantin’ to part with the unicorns, they really ain’t asking for that many caps instead. I’ve been hearing about this Fillydelphia place, and if half of it is true, then the fella running it ain’t somepony we wanna be crossing. I think we’d better just pay them off and be done with it.”

“If I want your advice,” Bullwhip began, stalking toward Bookie and shoving his chest into the smaller stallion. “Then I will fuckin’ ask you for it.”

Bookie staggered a bit before righting himself, then shakily responded, “W-whatever you say boss.”

“Damn right,” my father responded, “now feed the lil’ vermin and lock this thing up.”

“Alright,” the green buck responded, relieved at the dispersing tension, “I’ll just get the body out and-”

“No,” Bullwhip said suddenly, turning his attention back to me, “looked to me like those two had a lil’ moment there, why don’t we let them have some quality time together.”

“But boss, the kid did good today. Ain’t that being a little cru-” Bookie began, but cut himself off as the larger slaver narrowed his eyes into a threatening glare. “Yes boss,” he finished quietly.

The green stallion slowly lowered a box on a rope, shaking it to dislodge the contents. A box of cereal, a bottle of water, a healing potion, and an orange packet of Rad-Away toppled to the floor. However the sight of a fifth item had me desperately diving forward to ensure its safety.

Picking myself up off the floor, I turned my eyes back up toward the open hatch. Bookie met my gaze before giving an apologetic shrug, then slammed the metal dome shut.

A practiced thought ignited my horn, banishing the encroaching darkness in a somber blue glow. Gently, I placed my prize on the floor and laid down next to it, allowing the bright orange syringe to dominate my view. I focussed on the needle, desperately wanting to loathe the sight, to want nothing more than to crush it and allow the vile substance within to nourish the earth of my prison.

But the yearning I felt betrayed my intentions. My mind and body screamed in unison, demanding that I fuel the flames of my desire. Patches of my skin began to tingle and burn, and I knew of only one way to soothe it. Before I could stop myself, my magic snatched the Rage and plunged it into my leg. A small spurt of red shot into the syringe before the plunger slammed down, firing liquid bliss into my bloodstream.

I laid down on my back as the inferno began to blaze throughout me. My thoughts turned to violence and bloodsport, making me giddy at the prospect of my next fight. That small, rational part of my mind tried to speak up again, but the chem shot it down before it could disturb my high.

Yep, totally not an addict, Koe mused sarcastically.

“Shut the f-fuck… fuck up, Koe,” I slurred before my vision distorted, then turned a solid shade of red.

I picked myself up off the floor as I spat an orange-tinted bile. My head pulsed in unison with my heart, and my hooves ached. Sparing a glance down, I could see they were bloody and bruised.

The chem had become a staple in my life. It didn’t just lower my inhibitions, it set fire to them and poured on a healthy amount of gasoline. Nopony was safe from me when the Rage took hold and, as a result, I’d been trying to lessen my reliance on it.

I wasn’t naive enough to not see the signs of my own addiction, but that also meant I was fully aware of how deeply it’d sunk its claws into me. At the beginning, it was difficult for me to rationalize my behavior. Ending the life of an innocent pony to ensure my own survival wasn’t exactly the strongest morale high ground. Despite constant assurances from Koe that my future acts of heroism would balance the scales, I couldn’t keep pushing myself to do these horrifying things. Not alone anyways.

Against all my better judgement, I continued using Rage. The fear that poured out of the eyes of every opponent felt like it’d scorched my soul. My threadbare justifications for these heinous acts crumbled under the weight of the guilt, and Rage was the only thing that could keep me moving forward. Perhaps it was just my own selfish desire to live, and yet I marched on toward whatever lay at the end of this bloody path. However, the eagerness I soon began to feel anytime Rage was offered began to frighten me.

In the end I decided that, if I couldn’t completely wipe the chem out of my life, I could at least not use it for the intended purpose. Instead of injecting Rage whenever I needed to fight, I’d often relegated it to a reward at their conclusions, only rarely using it as the battlefield stimulant it truly was. The results were evident in my self-harm. If there was nopony for me to attack, then I’d simply target myself.

It felt like a fair compromise.

My magical light illuminated the Pit, allowing me a clear view of my departed opponent. Trim’s body was certainly a bit worse for wear as I could see his head had been beaten into a gory pulp on the cave floor, doubtless a result of my drug-induced rampage. At the very least, I found comfort in knowing he hadn’t been alive for the experience. Under the effects of Rage, there would’ve been no guarantee.

Tearing my gaze away from the body, I stalked over to one of the cavern’s walls and plucked a smaller stone, the package of Rad-Away, and the healing potion off the ground. I downed the potion first. My burned flank and the bruises on my back and legs instantly began to fade.

Next, I tore open the orange packet and began guzzling down the contents. I may not have been forced to drink from the irradiated creek that wound through my prison, but that didn’t mean I still didn’t feel its effects. After the first clump of mane fell off me, my meals began including the medicine. At least my contribution to the compound made me valuable enough to warrant the expense. In that I could take solace.

I scanned my eyes across the rocky surface, taking in every scratched mark I’d made over my time down here. Five columns of words stood prominently, and I breathed deeply as I approached. Lifting the small rock, I began carving into the softer stone. After a few seconds of scraping, the word ‘Trim’ had joined the dozens of other names now standing in perpetuity on this wall.

Whew, Koe chimed in, that was good one, huh?

“I guess so,” I stated meekly.

Oh come on, buck up hero, the voice whined. Nopony’s gonna fuck with someone that can do what you just did. When we get outta here, I reckon every slaver, raider and thug from here to Canterlot will be turning heel and running. When the great Venture Forth becomes the scourge of-

“When?” I cut the voice off sternly.

Huh, Koe responded, confusion rampant in his tone.

“When?” I repeated. “You keep saying when, but I’ve yet to hear when exactly is when.”

And how the fuck am I supposed to know that, the voice snapped. I’m just as stuck down here as you are, dumbass.

“You said you’d help me survive, you said we could escape,” I muttered, frustration poisoning my words. “But it seems like you’re completely happy to stay down here and slaughter innocent ponies. Well I’ve had it!” I shouted.

I have kept you alive, Koe answered venomously, and everything I’ve helped you do down here has been for your own good. But if you think you’re so Goddess-damned ready, why don’t we put that to the test? Let’s get out of here.

Before I could enquire further, I heard a soft muttering from outside the Pit. I stilled my thoughts, and turned the entirety of my focus toward listening to the conversation above. Listening isn’t really so much magic, although I’m certain there do exist spells that can improve it, but more a practiced skill. Anypony can hear something, but it takes a truly tuned sense to go above and beyond what is normally feasible. Shocking as it may be, I’ve had plenty of time to work on it.

“This is a bad fucking idea, boss,” Bookie stated panickedly. “I’m sure this feller didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Shut your trap, Bookie,” Bullwhip snarled. “This lil’ piece o’ shit thinks he can come into my compound and disrespect me? Say I’m uncivilized and lazy? Well he’s just ‘bout to find out what we think o’ prim and proper out in the Marejave.” His voice raised to a shout, “Ain’t that right e’rypony?!”

A cheer erupted in the distance, but I could hear a third, unfamiliar male voice speak above the din. “You killed a unicorn for nothing more than sport, and you assumed I would say nothing?”

“I was tryin’ to show a lil’ hopsti-tality to y’all, some entertainment while we talk business” Bullwhip snapped back. “Shows what I get fer bein’ neighborly.”

“Do you have even the barest comprehension of how valuable they are? Of course I was going to speak up. Now you compound the insult with this humiliation? Let my associates and I go, and we may consider not razing this place to the ground or reporting this little… misunderstanding to R-”

“I don’t give two solitary fucks who you reportin’ to. Nopony disrespects me and gets away with it. Besides, I ain’t unreasonable. Y’all gots the opp’rtunity right here and now to get outta here with your hides intact.”

A screech of metal followed the dome opening. As light poured into the Pit, I could make out the distinct shapes of my father and Bookie standing at the edge. A third silhouette accompanied them, one I didn’t recognize. It was quadrupedal with a rounded head, a sharp beak on the end of its muzzle, and sets of razor-sharp talons were attached to the end of each leg. The being’s feather coat was a mixture of grays and browns, and a simple set of leather armor made up its attire.

I remembered reading about these things before. They were called griffins, if memory served.

And here comes the final exam, Koe commented jovially. Hope you’ve been taking notes, kid, cause it doesn’t look like this fella is coming down to play.

“Alright y’all,” Bullwhip shouted, commanding the attention of the gathering crowd. “I got’s a special surprise for ya. An encore performance of the great Pit Buck!”

Another cheer arose from the slavers.

“And this time,” my father continued, “we got a special guest. Fillies and gentlecolts, all the way from Fillydelphia, I give you a dumbass Talon merc!”

The audience’s excitement rose to another level of fervor. I wasn’t entirely sure who these Talons were, but the crowd seemed to expect quite the spectacle.

“Y’all know the rules,” Bullwhip said, “if this feather brain somehow manages to take out the Pit Buck, then he and his flock can fly on outta here. If he can’t, well…” the orange buck chuckled quietly, “I think y’all know what happens.”

With that, Bullwhip put a hoof on the griffin before roughly shoving him into the Pit. A set of wings instantly shot out from his sides and attempted to flap. However, they looked bent and disjointed and, despite his best efforts, the griffin merely succeeded in softening his landing. He still managed to touch down on his feet, and immediately dropped into a battle-ready stance.

The griffin’s tapered, yellow eyes scanned his surroundings. Slowly, he began to move around, keeping most of the cavern entirely within his sight.

I held my breath beneath the sand, keeping close watch on my new opponent. He moved cautiously, yet confidently. The movements were obviously trained, professional, and lethal. Like a jungle cat zeroing in on its prey.

Time was against me, and the longer I delayed watching the griffin, the more time it had to find me. Experience on the battlefield was something I didn’t have. I never trained under any expert, nor was my knowledge base comprised of anything but personal experience. I wasn’t a trained killer or a soldier, and yet there was one advantage that my opponents never had, and it had saved me dozens of times before.

I knew this cave.

For years I’d been confined to this prison, and navigating the small space had practically become second nature. Every stalagmite, every pile of stone, every puddle of irradiated water was a potential weapon for me. Besides, even if everything went to shit, I could always fall back on a needle of-

A terrifying realization began to dawn. I didn’t have any Rage, I’d already used it.

Koe giggled softly, What’s wrong, hero? You said you didn’t need any of that stuff.

Are you enjoying this? I asked. This isn’t fucking funny.

Oh I disagree, the voice countered. You think a little blood on your hooves makes you some kinda hot shit, but once a real challenge shows up, suddenly you ain’t got the muscle to bring it down?

I shuttered at the voices words, knowing just how right it was. The motion caused a few displaced grains of sand to topple across the small opening I peered through, blinding me for a moment, and then gave way to the sight of the griffin glaring right at the hiding place.

A falcon-like screech echoed around the Pit before he leapt forward. Quickly overcoming my shock, I sealed my eyes and concentrated on building up as much magic as I could. Just as my opponent arrived to tear the pile of sand to shreds, I released the pressure in my horn in a sphere-shaped blast of energy.

The spell resounded around the cave in a cracking boom, instantly dispersing my hiding spot and slamming the griffin into a nearby wall. The mercenary recovered swiftly, landing on all fours and springing back toward me. I scooped up a nearby rock and hurled it forward. The griffin casually ducked under the stone before whipping his tail around and batting it back toward me. I leapt out of the way as the rock collided with the wall and burst into pieces.

Once righted, I began sidestepping, and found the griffin mirroring me from across the cave. We kept our gazes locked as we circled each other, looking for any sign of weakness to exploit. The griffin’s eyes scanned me up and down, gauging every aspect of my physique. His beak turned up in a grin before he spoke, “A child? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Only joke down here is you, pal,” I snapped back before flashing a grin. “Looks like they figured I was all you could handle.”

The mercenary’s grin faded, “Overconfidence is unbecoming of someone in your position. Perhaps if you beg for mercy, I might make your end quick.”

“Big words coming from a big… chicken,” I finished lamely.

“A… a what?” the griffin asked, seeming more confused than angry.

“You know, a chicken.” I stood up on my hind legs and tucked my front hooves under my shoulders. “Bwok, bok, bok, bok.”

Kid, Koe interrupted.

“Buckak?”

You’re embarrassing yourself

“Too much?” I asked quietly.

The voice sighed, Where do I even begin?

“Enough of this!” the griffin shouted. “I’ve no time for games! This ends now!” He dived forward as his claws lashed out in a scything arc. I dove to avoid the strike. Still, the talons raked at my side, slicing through my skin like a hot knife through butter. I cried out at the sudden, intense pain.

The blow threw me off balance, causing me to stumble and fall a few short feet away. Another terrifying screech pierced the air as the griffin darted toward me. Panic began to set in as I scrambled in the dirt, trying to escape from the instantaneous death of the griffin’s razors.

I failed.

A crushing weight pinned my forelegs to the floor. Looking around, I could see yellow claws wrapped around each limb. I struggled against the building pressure, but only succeeded in making my captor redouble the force affixing me to the ground.

“Where is your confidence now, boy?” he snarled. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to have some attack of conscience? When you play helpless and beg for mercy? Well, I hate to disappoint our captors, but I’m afraid my morality is not so far reaching.”

One of the claws gripped harder before I felt myself hoisted into the air by the foreleg. My skin ignited in irritation at the touch, and I struggled against the restraint with primal desperation. I rotated until I found myself face to face with the mercenary. His piercing yellow eyes regarded me as a hawk would some vermin. An annoyance, obviously beneath him, but a necessary kill on the road to survival.

“Such a shame,” he began, “to use one so young to goad others into showing leniency. Unfortunately, I’ve no more time to delay. This transgression cannot go unpunished. For that to occur, you must die.”

The griffin pulled back his other claw before plunging the talons into my abdomen.

My breath exploded from me in a choked gasp. The subsequent shock delayed the immediate pain, but a subtle twist of the intruding razors was enough to draw a shrieking cry from my muzzle.

Unceremoniously, the mercenary dropped me. I pressed my legs to the gushing wound, instantly soaking them in gore. A sputtering cough escaped my lips, and I desperately tried to keep my breathing steady.

The griffin turned his back on me and approached the Pit’s entrance, glaring up at the audience. “It is done,” he announced, mimicking my statement from yesterday.

Damn, Koe said, obviously impressed. That motherucker just tore you to shreds. Did you even last a minute?

“H-h-help,” I sputtered quietly.

What was that? Koe asked tauntingly. You’re gonna have to speak up, hero. It’s a little hard to hear you over the sound of me being right.

“P-please, help m-me,” I responded, slightly louder. The agony burning through my abdomen clouded my thoughts. The edges of my vision began to darken, and I desperately tried to stay conscious. Mind-numbing terror at the direness of my situation was the only thing I could clearly comprehend.

After everything that I’d been through, after all the lives I’d been forced to take, this was how my story would end? Bleeding out on the cavern floor? No, I couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let everything I’d sacrificed go to waste. Even if it meant listening to this voice, I had to live.

Alright, Koe sighed, exasperation in his tone. I think you’ve learned your lesson. Now I ain’t gonna to lie to you, right now you’re somewhere between fucked and royally fucked. We don’t know jack shit about healing, but I’ve got a little trick I’ve been working on that just might let you survive a couple more minutes. But first, I need a teensy little promise from you.

“A-anything,” I coughed.

I thought we had an understanding, but your attitude lately has cast a little doubt on that. So from here on out, you do what I say, when I say it. I’ve got nothing but your best interests at heart, kid, and I think it’s time you start showing a little appreciation for that. No more little outbursts, no more bitching and moaning. Just listening to your only friend in the world. Got it?

“I p-promise.”

Fantastic, Koe said, obviously pleased. So here’s what we’re gonna do. First, close your eyes.

I was terrified to follow the order. It felt as if doing anything but keeping my eyes pried open would lead to a darkness I’d never emerge from. But I’d made a promise, and it wasn’t like I had a lot of other options.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and the searing pain from my wound dominated my awareness.

Good, Koe continued, now you feeling that? That torment eating at you like a wildfire? Well, fires need fuel. You get rid of that, you stop the fire. Picture it, that gushing hole in your stomach is the first spark and it’s starting to spread. Creeping across your flesh and torching everything in its path.

I could see it. My mind’s eye was completely overtaken by the image of my body being consumed in flame. The gray of my coat turned the color of coal as it began to flake apart. I could feel my heart rate rise, and I began to hyperventilate. If I could summon the breath to scream, I would have been crying out at the top of my lungs.

How the hell was this supposed to help?

See now, I thought we were done questioning.

My jaw clenched as the tiny inferno continued to spread, readying myself for whatever the voice had planned.

That’s what I thought. Now, stop the fire.

WHAT! But…

It’s all in your head, kid. And, just like everything else rattling around in here, you’re in control. All these fantasies, you’ve gotta decide to make them happen. The pain ravaging your body right now, you have to reject it.

Imaginary flames continued to lick at my skin. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm the tumultuous pulse that had overtaken my heart. Slowly, a cloak of serenity fell across me, and I felt like I was beginning to take back control.

My focus turned to the encroaching blaze, and I no longer looked on in horror as my flesh cracked and fell away. It signalled that Koe was right, all I had to do was starve the flames of their fuel. The edges of the wound darkened from a burning orange, until all that remained was blackened skin.

The agony laid upon me did not disappear, but instead became more of an irritating itch. Like the nerves transmitting the sensations had been cauterized away. Obviously not ideal nor healthy, but now it wouldn’t incapacitate me.

There we go, Koe whispered congratulatory. Now get up.

My eyes shot open, and I began to take in the real surroundings. A pool of crimson continued to exude from my stomach, but the usual horror of such an injury didn’t register. Shakily, I pulled myself to my hooves. I could hear the cascade of blood continuing to patter against the floor.

The sight of my opponent beginning to climb up the rope ladder came into view. “Hey asshole,” I shouted, “is that all… all you’ve got?”

The mercenary’s head snapped toward me, showcasing his shock at my revival. “How are you still standing?”

In response, I levitated a stone from the far side of the Pit and fired it at the ascending griffin. It collided with his claw, resulting in a bone-shattering crack. A screech of pain followed his plummeting back to the cavern floor.

He laid still a moment, moaning and clutching at the now-deformed talons.

That was fucking perfect! Koe squealed in glee. Now let’s put the fear of the Goddess into him, let’s get a little nuts.

Nodding in understanding, I confidently strolled across the short distance between us. Towering over my opponent, I let a couple drops of crimson splatter against his face. The griffin’s eyes fluttered open and immediately grew to the size of saucers as he took in my gory visage.

Spurred by Koe’s words, it almost felt like the malevolent voice was speaking through me. “Aw, come on mister, we’re not done yet. I’ve got a lot more games we can play.”

The griffin’s pupils shrank back before he swiped at me with his unbroken claw. This time, however, I made no attempt to escape it. Instead, I merely caught the scything talons with my magic, instantly stopping the strike scant inches from my throat.

In a similar fashion as the mercenary had held me, I hoisted his body into the air by the restrained claw. With reckless abandon, I began to spin the griffin as a child would some string-bound toy. His form blurred as the speed increased, and panicked squawks could be heard above the whirring din.

Then, as I began to tire from the exertion, I slammed the mercenary against a wall. A sickening snap accompanied the strike, and I could clearly see his hind legs now bent to grotesque angles.

The griffin sputtered and coughed through his pained gasps as he helplessly tried to discern what just happened. His claws scraped at the floor and his wings flapped futilely as he tried to rise. The multitude of broken bones made him look like a crippled bird desperately trying take flight.

As I would hope most would upon seeing any creature in such a state, I hefted another large stone to put him out of his misery.

Ah ah ah, Koe chided. Not so fast, hero.

“What do you mean,” I asked aloud. “We won, can’t we just finish him off?”

Oh we will, the voice hissed menacingly. But we ain’t making it quick.

“But I don’t want-”

See, there’s the problem. We’re not doing what you want anymore. You still want my help? Then we’re playing by my rules. And it’s certainly not my prerogative to take mercy on those that screw with me. This piece of shit almost killed us, and he’s gonna know, to his last breath, that he fucked with the wrong pony.

“Wh-what’d you have in mind?” I asked, dreading his response.

At first there was silence, and only the tortured pants of the fallen mercenary broke it. The crowd above was also unusually quiet. As if every one of them was on the edge of their seats to see what I would decide.

I think he looks a bit thirsty, Koe finally stated, why don’t you give him a drink?

I was confused for a moment, what was I supposed to give him? Then, realization began to dawn as I slowly turned my sights toward the lethally irradiated creek that ran through the Pit. The very same I had considered using to take my own life, admittedly on more than one occasion.

A knot formed in my throat, and I gulped nervously to relieve it. A bubble of magic formed within the stream, scooping several mouthfuls of the toxic water. My skills in levitation still felt incredibly amateurish, and it was only cemented as the liquid dribbled from the spell like a soaking cloth.

Suddenly, I felt a claw wrap around my leg as it yanked me back. I tumbled to the floor, and the water splashed harmlessly back into the stream. I rolled to my back, catching sight of the wounded mercenary glaring at me with a burning hatred. His unwounded talon crushed my leg like a vise, and yet all I could feel was a mounting pressure. Koe’s mind trick must have still been working.

I kicked wildly with my free leg, bashing my hooves into the griffin’s beak. He snarled and tightened his grip before yanking me back. His talons dug into my skin, feeling like pinpricks to my numbed perceptions.

“Did you really think I’d just lay down and die?” the mercenary growled. “I’m going to rip your flesh from your bones, you demented little shit.”

My flailing grew more frantic. The blows from my hooves seemed nothing more than a minor annoyance to the griffin, and a grisly smile graced his beak as the distance between us closed. I craned my neck, trying to find something to break the mercenary’s hold.

None of the stones were near enough for me to get a proper grip, and my concentration was broken by the mounting terror.

I turned once more to the irradiated creek and began cupping as much water as I could. The magical basin slowly filled, spilling several times in my panic. Finally, I flung the contents of my spell with as much force as I could. The wave sailed over me, several burning drops dotting my coat, until the water splashed against the griffin’s head.

A shriek of pain erupted from my opponent as he instantly released his grip and clutched at his sizzling eyes. Tiny columns of smoke trailed upward as the sensitive organs began to dissolve.

Wasting no time, I immediately began to collect more of the water, this time levitating it more successfully. I galloped back toward the wounded griffin before surrounding his head in the same aura. His claw fell to his side, revealing the boiling sockets that remained of his eyes.

His panicked cries instantly became more muffled, and I began to shrink the volume of the spell. The toxic waste began pooling beneath his head, and the level continued to rise. Just before the mercenary’s beak broke the surface, a thought struck me.

A small gap appeared in the bubble of my spell. “What’s your name,” I demanded.

What’re you doing, kid? Koe asked, sounding annoyed. Finish him.

“Just give me this,” I pleaded. “Just let me remember what I’ve done.”

The voice was silent, and I took that as his acquiescence.

“What?!” the griffin cried, his voice sounding both pained and confused.

“Your name,” I repeated. “Tell me your name.”

“What do you care?” he snarled. “Finish it or don’t, but don’t waste my time.”

“I need it!” I shouted in frustration. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to be here. Doing these horrible things to anypony those shitheads point their hooves at.” My voice grew softer, “This is my way of remembering, of keeping track of everything I’ve done. I want to remember you.”

The griffin’s thrashing quieted somewhat and he leaned forward to speak. “Fine, my name is-”

Time’s up, Koe whispered.

Suddenly, the hole in my magic snapped shut and the water completely filled the bubble. The mercenary coughed and sputtered, but toxic mouthfuls soon found their way down his throat.

My magic soon dispersed, allowing the remaining water to splatter to the ground. The griffin made choking sounds and spat as much as he could, but the damage was already done. Soon enough, his coughs began splattering crimson dots. The stream increased until the mercenary was vomiting blood across the floor. Intermittent cries of torment interrupted his expulsions until he fell to his side, taking his final breaths in sodden gasps.

I stood in shock. The horrifying scene before me played out in my mind over and over again, and yet I still couldn’t accept it as fact. I had no love for my opponent, but the implications of how he’d died ravaged me in a way that none of my other kills had. All of them had been at my hooves, my decisions. Be they of sober mind or not, the choice had always been mine to make.

Hadn’t it?

“How?” I finally whispered.

How what? the voice responded.

“How did you do that? How did you make kill him?”

I didn’t do shit. Koe stated. This was all you, hero.

“You’re lying!” I shouted.

Oh really? Then let’s put it to the test. Punch yourself in the face.

“This isn’t the time to joke! Tell me, how did you do that?!”

The voice didn’t respond, further adding to my frustration. I was given little time to wait, however, as the crowd above erupted into a veracious cheer. Stomping hooves and shouts of encouragement rained down upon me.

Bullwhip beamed down, “See now y’all, th’ Pit Buck don’t disapp-”

My father suddenly flew backward, and the cracking of a rifle shot echoed through the air.

The cheers devolved into a stunned silence, none of the slavers knowing just how to react. That is, until several of their brains started splattering across the sand.

Pandemonium erupted amongst the crowd as they dove for cover. Gunshots continued to ring out, slamming into the scattering ponies. Cries of pain resonated from above.

“The Talons!” I heard somepony shout. “They brought Goddess-damned reinforcements!”

A bullet whizzed by my ear and sparked against the rocky floor. The shot snapped me back to attention, and I began to gallop away from the entrance. Sparing a glance back, I saw somepony standing at the Pit’s edge. Bookie stood shakily, a hoof nursing a wound on his left shoulder, scanning his eyes around the cavern. Upon spying me, he motioned for me to come back.

Apprehensively, I trotted toward him. With a flick of his hoof, the rope ladder tumbled down to me. “You make me rich, I save your ass. We’re even now, so get the hell outta here kid!” he shouted before turning tail and galloping off.

Gritting my teeth, I took hold of the ladder and began hauling myself up. A tightness in my stomach made the ascent difficult, and I almost began to wonder what it was until…

Yeah, your gut still looks like a used pincushion, kid, Koe said warily. Might wanna take it easy.

For the second time in my life, I emerged to a battle raging in Oasis.

The compound seemed relatively unchanged, save for a few more hovels and pens built as the operation expanded. The pens were brimming with terrified slaves, all huddled into corners

Dark-armored formations of griffins dived from the sky, peppering the panicking slavers in hails of gunfire and streaks of red. Those that still stood attempted to form a futile counterattack, firing random shots into the air. A few got lucky and managed to clip some of the attackers, sending them flailing into the ground.

Several bullets kicked up the dirt around me. Frantically I searched for a place to hide before diving beneath a nearby shed.

The battle raged on, but the outcome was easy enough to predict. Talon mercenaries continued their dive bomb assaults on the compound, and the cracking of distant of rifles indicated sniper positions somewhere out in the surrounding desert. The mercenaries were too well organized for the slavers to possibly contend with. Survivors of the first of the assault were now either fleeing or, in one horrifying case, swallowing their own barrels before the griffins had a chance to close in.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the assault was over. The final gunshots echoed into the air, and all was quiet. Hesitantly, I crawled toward the edge of the shed, peeking out at the carnage now surrounding me. The bodies of slavers lay scattered across the ground. Some still moaned in agony, a few even trying desperately to crawl away. However, several dozen of the dark-armored griffins began to touch down and immediately set to the task of cleanup. I heard a few ponies beg for mercy, before a chorus of shots quieted their plaintive cries.

After the executions, I observed them moving toward the slave pens and speaking amongst themselves. Then a single griffin approached the gates of one pen. This one was larger than the rest and wore a more ornate set of armor, with several markings decorating its battle-worn exterior. His feathers were jet black, and a set of large, strange looking rifles were strapped to his battle-saddle, shining with a menacing red glow.

The griffin leader, I assumed, threw wide the slave pen before calling out in a booming voice. “I am Axil, and allow me to be the first to congratulate you all. You have been selected to join in the most important movement to ever fall upon this wasteland. These wretches that have held you in captivity have been put down. Now your lives shall be dedicated to a far more righteous task.”

He confidently strode into the cage, and the occupants pressed themselves against the chainlink at his approach. “Our employer seeks to heal this land, to rebuild this nation to the world of peace and prosperity it once was. To that end, we now ask that you accompany us on our return to Fillydelphia, and became a critical part in his plan to reforge Equestria. Together we shall put an end to the nightmare you all have been forced to endure.

“However, those that are seeing this as an opportunity to run and continue your worthless existences in this hell are sorely mistaken. We are not your saviors, and any sign of dissent will be met with lethal repercussions. For now, your choices are still not your own. But rejoice, knowing that your sacrifice today will pave the way for future generations to live in a world with-”

The griffin was cut off as an emaciated buck made a mad dash for the exit. Before he even reached the edge of the pen, his body ignited in a brilliant orange glow. A pile of ash tumbled to the ground, revealing the mercenary leader pointing his rifles at the space the slave once occupied. Axil’s face was expressionless, and he turned back to the terrified crowd as if nothing had happened.

“Now,” he began, “onto the first order of business. We require any and all unicorns to step forward and identify yourselves. You shall be kept separate from the rest, as your talents have an even higher calling.”

These ponies were just falling into another nightmare, and no one was around to help them. Shakily, I pulled myself to my hooves and began to step out from my hiding place.

What in the holy mother of Luna’s cunt stains are you doing, dumbass?! Koe demanded.

“What I always promised to do, what I’ve been training to do. Those ponies need help, and I’m gonna save them,” I whispered back. “It’s time I start paying back for everything I’ve-”

How in the fuck are you still this stupid?! he interrupted. Didn’t that little rumble just now teach you anything? You barely survived one of those assholes, and he was unarmed. How exactly do you think going up against a whole Goddess-damned army of them is going to work out for you?

“Well- I- um-” I sputtered.

They’re gonna rip you in two faster than you can blink, he stated grimly. Now, we’ve still got a deal, don’t we?

I thought for a moment, before resignedly saying, “Yes.”

Good, then we’re doing this my way, the smart way. Gotta learn to choose your battles, hero. And this one wasn’t gonna turn out well for us. So turn your ass around, and let’s get the fuck out of here.

Ashamedly, I turned from the griffins rounding up the slaves and began to slink toward the other side of the shed. There was a clear line of sight between me and a familiar-looking gap in the defensive wall. It was a chilling realization to find myself underneath my own shed, in the exact same position as the slaves that sent me down this path to begin with.

In a cruel twist of fate, the memory was completed as a face appeared in front of me just as I was about to sprint for freedom. It was another griffin, this one a female. The feathers on her head were mostly white save for the light brown ones around her eyes and at the tips of her crest. The latter color comprised the rest of her coat and wings, though it was mostly hidden by her armor. A long scar ran diagonally across her face, sealing the left eye.

I was shocked into silence, petrified as the mercenary cocked her head at the sight of me.

Well, we’re boned, Koe interjected bluntly.

I shook in terror, my mind racing with the worst possible outcomes. What were they going to do with me? Would they throw me in with the others, or would they just shoot me on the spot? They seemed to value unicorns more highly, and I couldn’t bear to think of why that might be.

I could think of only one other option available to me.

“Please, don’t,” I begged quietly, the despair obvious in my voice.

A look of confliction grew across the griffin’s face. She quickly glanced at her comrades, then back at me.

In another desperate plea for mercy, I rolled onto my side, showcasing the gaping wound in my stomach. The pain was still far from my mind, but I hoped the horrific visage would be enough to tip the scales in her decision.

A small gasp escaped her beak, and concern replaced her expression.

“Grimfeathers!” a voice barked behind her.

She immediately spun around, snapping to attention as I spied Axil slowly approaching. My breath caught in my throat, and I could swear my heart came to a dead stop.

The jet-black griffin halted a few paces away, “Why are you not assisting the others? Need I remind you that your company has been subcontracted to-”

“Contracted,” the other griffin interrupted, “to help save your people and take out a few low-life slavers. I follow my contracts to the letter.” She made a show of turning her head nearly one hundred and eighty degrees to both sides and, I noticed joyfully, subtly took a small step to the right, completely blocking me from Axil’s view. “And I’ve done that. We’re not on Red Eye’s leash and, as far as I’m concerned, this little partnership between our companies is at an end.”

She took a few steps toward the larger griffin, shoving her face into his. “And don’t think you can speak to me like one of your subordinates, Axil. Remember, YOU needed MY help. If you hadn’t been offering so many caps for this, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

Grimfeathers began to walk away, keeping her gaze locked on Axil and, thankfully, keeping his away from me. “Send someone else with our pay when you get back. I’m done looking at you.”

A claw on her shoulder halted Grimfeather’s exit, and Axil stared deeply into her eyes. “Don’t cross me, Gawdyna,” he hissed. “If you had any sense at all, you’d have already taken Red Eye’s generous offer to join up with us. Maybe some of the others in your company would be more willing to see reason.”

“If that day ever comes,” she sneered menacingly, “I’ll shoot them myself.” With that, she shook herself free of Axil’s grasp, spread her wings, and took to the sky.

Some time later, the griffins finished rounding up the slaves of Oasis and began their march toward that Fillydelphia place.

I’d remained still beneath the shed. Not daring to move lest I risk being spotted again. When all seemed quiet, I finally emerged.

It was a slaughtering ground. I gingerly stepped over the corpses of slavers as I made my way through. The smell of blood and gunpowder hung in the air like a thick fog, almost making me gag.

However, I found no sign of Bullwhip, Bookie, or Chance.

I growled in frustration. At the very least I’d hoped that, after everything I’d been through, I could at least get the opportunity to kick my father’s and brother’s corpses. And yet it seemed their own cowardly natures had allowed them to survive. Still alive out in the wasteland, and free to continue hurting others at their leisure.

Now that I was out, they were both right at the top of my hit- I mean priority list.

Koe whistled in my head, Slavers en flambe, order up.

“We need to leave,” I responded.

Aw come on, don’t be like that. This is what we wanted, ain’t it? These assholes finally got what was coming to them. Justice has been served.

I wanted so desperately to agree. These ponies had been the source of every horrific event to fall upon me, and yet I could not bring myself to take satisfaction in their deaths. Despite every one of the innumerable wrongs the ponies of Oasis had commited, this was still the only home I’d ever known. I shed no tears for the slavers, but I also found no joy in their passing. I just felt hollow inside.
“Not like this,” I said, shaking my head. “This is just violence, no justice behind any of it. The only reason any of this should have happened would be to rescue the slaves, and they’ve just been moved from one hell to another. This was just people killing each other.”

And what would you call what we’ve been doing in that hole all these years, huh? A charity drive?

“I-”

Soup kitchen?

“If you’d just-”

Ooo, I know. Euthanasia! Putting all those poor souls out of their mis-

“Will you just shut up for two seconds!” I shouted. “The only reason I ever agreed to any of this was because you said it would make me stronger, more capable of being of hero to the ponies out here. Well guess what? We’re out now, and I’m keeping my promise.”

Well, somepony woke up on the wrong side of the killing field, the voice taunted indignantly.

Instead of responding, I started making my way toward the main building. The ramshackle tower was still standing… somehow.

Sheet metal hallways creaked and moaned as I walked through them. The usual sounds of revelry and conflict that echoed through the halls were replaced with a morbid quiet. I poked my head inside the washroom, and found the body of a slaver mare in one of the basins. She must’ve been trying to hide from the massacre outside, and yet the griffins had proven how ruthless they were in their efficiency.

Her white limbs were dangling over the edges of the tub, and a load of buckshot in her chest had dyed the water a deep red. I shuddered, knowing just how lucky I was to escape the same fate.

Continuing on, I moved into the mess hall. Luckily this room was at least free of corpses. The shelves were sparse in their supplies, but I grabbed anything that looked remotely edible and kept moving. Syringe’s old clinic was in an even worse state. Drawers, cabinets, and medical boxes had been pulled apart and thrown across the room. The Talons must’ve raided the place before leaving. Not even a single bandage was left of Oasis’s medical stock.

Disheartened, I made my way outside. I snagged an empty burlap sack on the way and dumped in my meager supplies.

I gathered my books and the music box and placed them inside the sack as well. The box’s latch came undone as I put it away, filling the air with the smile-inducing tune. A metallic clink sounded as a small medallion tumbled from inside and hit the ground.

I looked at the necklace, years of dust caked onto its exterior as it sat in the music box. The images of the two Princesses stared back at me, their steadfast expressions burning into my mind.

Breathing deeply, I lifted the cord around my head and allowed it fall across my neck. The little symbol was the only reminder I still had of my original purpose, of the dream I so desperately wanted to see realized. And its presence allowed me to believe that it was possible.

“I’m ready,” I said aloud.

“Are you now?” another voice called out.

My heart sank into my stomach. Slowly, I turned toward the source of the sound, preparing myself to flee at a moment's notice.

The female griffin from before stood atop the shack behind me. Her face was expressionless, and her gaze pierced through me with a subtle intensity. I gulped nervously and began backing away. She may saved me once, but what possible reason did she have to come back? Did she have a change of heart? Had Axil discovered what she’d done? I couldn’t be sure and, until I was, I couldn’t trust her.

“If I wanted to kill you, I woulda done it already,” she called, sensing my reservation.

With a gentle flap of her wings, she dropped to the ground in front of me. She was quiet for a moment, scanning her eyes across me with an almost academic interest.

“Well, can’t say you look like much,” she said after a while, “but anyone that can take beating like that and keep walking has got to be worth something.”

I’d almost completely forgotten about the puncture in my stomach, and I also had no idea how long Koe’s mindtrick was supposed to work.

The griffin stuck out a talon, “Gawd, Gawd Grimfeathers.”

I placed my hoof in her grasp and returned the shake. “V-Venture Forth,” I responded shakily. “Th-thank you for saving me, Ms. Grimfeathers.”

The griffin scoffed, “Please, everyone just calls me Gawd. And I didn’t do nothin’ ‘sides keep my beak shut.”

“Oh, uh, ok Ms. Gr- I mean, Gawd,” I stuttered back. “S-still you, um, you didn’t have to do that.” I thought for a moment, “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why did you help me?”

Gawd sighed, “Axil ‘n his company have been goin’ from slaver to slaver for a few months now, roundin’ up unicorns, or killing anyone that didn’t agree to at least a lil’ donation. This place here is probably the biggest operation around, so they figured a lil’ backup wasn’t such a bad idea. My company had the time and needed the caps, but I ain’t no slaver. I only agreed to back up him up if shit went south, that’s it.” She took on a softer, more sympathetic expression, “Besides, I have a couple lil’ hatchlin’s back home.” The griffin shrugged, “Chalk it up to my maternal instincts kickin’ in. Kids don’t deserve to be wrapped up in all this.”

I finally began to calm, trusting in the griffin’s character.

Mistaaaaake, Koe sang.

“I can’t even begin to thank you,” I said, ignoring the voice. “You’ve done more for me than anypony has in so long.” Tears started welling up in my eyes and a smile spread across my face. I could barely even remember the last time somepony had even given me a second glance, nonetheless showed me even a modicum of kindness. My heart swelled as I looked at the griffin, and I could barely contain it.

“Woah, woah,” Gawd said, “don’t get all sappy on me, kid. I’m new to this whole parent thing, and I got my talons full with my own.” She reached out a claw, aiming to wipe the tears from my face.

My aversion to touch ignited in that panicked moment. I recoiled instantly, swiping out with my hooves and tumbling back. Gawd retreated a few steps as I attempted to compose myself.

Looking back at her, there was no questioning or shock. Instead, Gawd had on a look of understanding, as if she’d expected my reaction to her advances. I felt ashamed. Why couldn’t I control control myself, even for a second? This griffin was trying to help me, and while my mind wanted to trust her, my body continued to fall upon its old instincts of self-preservation.

“‘T’s alright, kid,” she said softly. “They can’t hurt ya no more, t’s all over now.” She spared a glance around us, letting her sight pause upon the corpses of the fallen slavers. “Sick sons of bitches,” she hissed menacingly. After a brief pause, Gawd moved toward me again. She sat down a comfortable distance away.

“How long ya been here?” she asked.

“My whole life,” I responded.

The griffin whistled, and it took me a moment to try and wrap my mind around how she did that with a beak. “I’m sorry.” she said.

“For what?”

“Well, if for anything ‘sides some basic condolences, ain’t nothin’ that lil’ puncture you got there could be other’n a Talon merc’s claw. Believe me, I’ve seen a couple in my time.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, although I certainly appreciated some level of remorse for what’d happened. “And it’s not like it’s even the worst of what I’ve gotten here.”

“Still has to hurt like mother fucker, don’t it? I’m shocked you’re still standin’.”

“Well, it should,” I responded, “but, um, it’s kind of a long stor-”

In that moment, a fog in my mind seemed to lift, the muddied jumble of thoughts began to realign, and all my numbed perceptions came rushing back.

My abdomen felt like it exploded.

A choked cry echoed out of my lips and I tumbled to to the ground. My breath came in panicked gasps as the inferno in my stomach raged. I thrashed and flailed, and the edges of my vision began to darken.

The silhouette of Gawd appeared in the collapsing tunnel. She was crying out something that my pain-ravaged mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

Before the world went completely dark, I heard one more voice speak out.

Nighty night, said Koe.

The following stretch of time was a blur. I recalled the feeling of being weightless and the wind rushing through my mane. The ground below was incredibly far away and rushing past at an impossible rate of speed. Finally, there was something soft beneath me and voices were murmuring in the background.

I continued to fade in and out of consciousness, but I clearly recalled the face of Gawd filling up my vision and saying, “You owe me one, kid. I don’t work for free.”

Then all was quiet.

Somepony was peeling back my lips.

“Trace amounts of blood in the gums, a sign of anemia,” I heard an elderly mare’s voice say. “He’ll need a radiation purge. Lemon dear, would you be so kind as to fetch the kit?”

“Yes Grandma,” a filly responded.

A pair of hooves started gently pressing against my stomach and I felt my muscles tighten. However, the pain I was expecting had degraded to a minor ache.

“The sutures are holding well, and I don’t see any sign of internal bleeding.” She paused a moment as I heard her approach. “You are one very lucky colt.”

Koe sputtered out a laugh.

Slowly, I began to peel open my eyes. The room was dimmed, so the assault of brightness was minimal. There was some wooden panelling along the walls. A single light illuminated the space, attached to a lazily spinning ceiling fan. I could make out some drawings hung up. Simple pictures of fillies and colts all engaging in some manner of play, obviously drawn by the very same children depicted in them. Yet they all seemed to contain the image of an older mare, generally drawn in a light blue with a greying mane.

I was laying in a large bed, and it was the single-most comfortable place I had ever been. The pillows were as plush as I imagined the clouds above to be, the blankets were a cocoon of warmth, and I felt myself sink into the mattress like a soothing bath. Were I to have my druthers, I’d never leave.

But my inquisitive mind had other plans. Begrudgingly, I forced my eyelids fully open. I first noticed the bandages wrapped around my stomach, and just the lack of pain from the area was almost euphoric. An older, unicorn mare stood at the bedside, a comforting smile on her face. Her coat was light blue, and her mane had greyed with age. The mare’s eyes matched her coat, though each was covered in a subtle white film. There were wrinkles near the edges of her eyes and mouth, giving the mare a warm, matronly look. Her cutie mark depicted a swaddled pink heart.

Her eyes lit up in glee as I awoke. “Oh thank the Goddesses,” she began, “you gave us all quite the scare, my little pony.”

I attempted to rise, but the mare placed a hoof on my chest, forcing me back. The touch erupted into a spiderweb of irritation, but I wasn’t yet coherent enough to vocalize my distress.

“Ah ah ah,” she chided. “You aren’t in any shape to be getting out of bed just yet. If there’s anything you need, I will get it for you.”

After a short consideration, I realized how incredibly thirsty I was.

“W-water… please,” I said weakly.

“Of course, my dear,” the mare responded. Her horn lit up with a white glow, capturing a tin can set on the nightstand. Gingerly, she levitated the cup to my lips and tilted it forward. The cool, clean water washed away the vileness that had been festering on my tongue and quenched the burning thirst in my throat. I tried to tilt the cup with my hooves, desperate to get more of the wondrous liquid.

“No, no,” she scolded again, “little sips.”

The can was placed back against my lips, and I continued sipping at the contents. When my mouth felt like it wasn’t caked with sand, I was finally able to speak.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The elderly mare’s smile widened, “My name is Tender Heart, but everypony around here just calls me Grandma.”

“Where is here?” I enquired further.

“Oh it’s nothing much,” Tender Heart began, “just a little place to call home I’ve been building over the years. A sanctuary for myself and the children.”

“Children?” I repeated, perking up at the word.

“Of course,” she said. “I take care of children, just like you, from all across the wasteland. Be they merely separated from their families or… well, you know. I do find the word orphanage so dreadful, but I suppose it’s near enough to the truth. I care for those who no longer have anypony to care for them, or never had any to begin with, until they’re old enough to support themselves.”

“That’s… amazing,” I stammered, awestruck at the statement. She actually… cared? About ponies other than herself? I mean, I knew the wasteland couldn’t be completely devoid of selflessness, but to find someone so quickly? It was… suspicious to say the least. Then again, all I really had to compare this place to was Oasis. Maybe my old home was more exceptional in the wasteland than I gave it credit for.

“It’s nothing, really,” Tender Heart continued. “I’ve only ever wanted to care for children. Now that mine are grown and gone, and with how many little ones there are in desperate need of a nurturing touch, I felt it only right to continue doing what I love most.”

“So you’re out here all alone? Just you and a bunch of kids?”

“We get the occasional trader now and again, but otherwise, yes,” she answered.

“Isn’t that dangerous? What about-” I began, but was interrupted by the door opening.

A yellow, earth pony filly with a bright green mane stood in the doorway. She was about my age, except she already had her cutie mark. It showed a small, boiling pot alongside an assortment of vegetables. The filly had a pale yellow medical bag, emblazoned with some pink butterflies, in her teeth.

“Oh,” the filly gasped, “you’re awake.”

“That’s right,” Tender Heart said as she motioned a hoof at the filly, “This is Lemon Tart.” She repeated the motion at me, “And this is… oh dear. I don’t believe I even asked you your name. How incredibly rude of me. What is your name, dear?”

“Venture Forth,” I responded.

“So good to meet you, Venture. And thank you, Lemon, for bringing the kit. Now, I’m sure our guest is absolutely famished. Would you be so kind as to bring him a bowl of that delectable mushroom stew you made this evening?”

“Of course, Grandma,” the filly squealed excitedly before dashing out the door. I saw her peek into the room once more before giggling and scurrying off again.

“Such a sweet girl,” Tender Heart said lovingly as she unpacked several jars and bottles the bag. “And she is very excited to meet you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s been ever so long since she’s had anypony her age around. The others are all much younger, or old enough to be heading out on their own soon enough.” she answered. Tender Heart mixed several of the substances together in my empty water can before handing it back to me. It smelled like antiseptic, but I grit my teeth and swallowed the substance. It tasted like unflavored Rad-Away, gross but not unpalatable. The subtle irritation I’d come to align with radiation poisoning began to ebb away. “You’re quite the little blessing, that is if you decide to-” the mare cut herself off.

“Decide to what?” I inquired.

“Well, I know that this is all a lot to take in, and I wouldn’t dare try to guess what you’ve been through to get here. That wound is telling enough of what kind of life you’ve lived, but if I can, I’d love to try and make the next chapter a bit easier for you.” She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to put her hoof on mine. I recoiled instantly.

Tender Heart looked hurt at first, then smiled warmly, “Trust is a hard thing to come by in this world, Venture, and I’d like to try and earn yours. So if you want it, there is a place for you here. It’s nothing glamorous, and you will certainly be expected to help out with chores, but you’ll have a safe place to sleep, three square meals a day and, most importantly, a whole lot of new friends.”

Tender Heart stood up as the door opened again. Lemon Tart had a tray balanced on her head. It carried a steaming bowl and another can of water.

“No need to answer right now,” the older mare said. The tray was wrapped in her white glow as she set it across my lap. I took a deep whiff, and found the most tantalizing scent wafting from the bowl.

“Enjoy your dinner. Just call if you need anything else, dear,” she said before ushering the excited filly out of the room.

“Wait,” I called before she left the room. Tender Heart paused and gave me an inquisitive look. “What happened to Gawd?”

“Gawd?” the mare asked, confused. “Oh, you mean that griffin that brought you here?”

I nodded.

“She was asking around Hoofsprings for a place to bring you, and I suppose somepony directed her here. I must admit, she was a bit rude. Demanded that I take you in and make sure you’re ok, even layering on a subtle threat, as if I would ever turn away a child in need,” she said the last part a bit huffily as she stuck her nose in the air. “Anyway, Gawd seemed satisfied with the quality of care here and left. She did ask me tell you that-”

“I owe her?” I interrupted.

Tender Heart harrumphed, “Indeed. What a callous individual.” Her tone turned softer once more, “Now, that is more than enough talk for one evening. You’ll need your strength, so eat up and I’ll see you in the morning.” The door swung shut behind the mare with a gentle click.

Quiet now plagued the space, save for the subtle ticking of the nearby clock.

It certainly was a lot to take in. I’d stumbled out of a living hell and into a veritable paradise. As much as I wanted to finally rejoice at my good fortune, experience kept me cautious. But what if it were true? If that were the case, then I had a lot of adjusting to do. I’d always imagined my life in the Pit coming to an end, and immediately setting out against the villains of the wasteland. Instead, I’d found a place that might give me a little more time to enjoy just being a kid. I suppose the world would still be there in a few years, and then I’d be all the more ready to take it on.

I slurped up a mouthful of the stew. An explosion of flavor erupted across my tongue, and I almost moaned in pleasure as the rich, hearty meal filled my aching belly. Within seconds I’d swallowed the entire bowl.

I laid back and placed a contended hoof on my stomach. The pain was nothing but a minor itch now, and the warmth of the stew smothered me in a cloak of exhaustion. My eyelids fluttered shut, and sleep soon returned.

The brightness of morning slowly drew me out of my peaceful slumber. I immediately shot upright and took in my surroundings. Big, comfortable bed? Check. Empty bowl from the night before? Check. Innocent drawings from grateful fillies and colts? Check. I settled down and felt the sting of joyous tears at the corners of my eyes.

It wasn’t a dream.

My psyche had become notorious for plaguing me with hopeful and wondrous visages of life outside Oasis, then crushing them with reality when I would wake. This time, however, it was real.

Goddess-dammit, kid, a familiar voice piped up, how long are you planning on lazing about in bed? We got shit to do, in case you forgot.

“You’ve been quiet,” I murmured sleepily.

What, you don’t think I can read a situation? I know when I’m not wanted.

“Sure you do,” I commented sarcastically.

Well, that’s enough shooting the shit, wouldn’t you say? Get up, hero, we got ourselves a wasteland to save.

I stayed quiet.

Unless you’re actually thinking about taking up that bitch’s offer.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snapped.

Aw, the sweet naivete of children, Koe said. Well, I guess this is as good a spot as any to get started. Let’s go see what’s fucked up about this place.

“What are you talking about,” I asked harshly.

Don’t tell me you honestly believed a word of that horse shit. Some random mare in the middle of nowhere suddenly, out of the goodness of her heart, decided to start taking care of orphans? Without anypony guarding her or getting anything in return? That’s the oldest, corniest story in the Goddess-damned book. There’s something else going on here.

“No,” I muttered angrily, “just stop it. I know what you’re trying to do, and it isn’t going to work. Don’t you see? I don’t have to fight here. I can play outside, I can sleep peacefully, I can make friends, I can just… live.”

Yeah, sure. Because it’s not like you’re carrying any baggage.

“It’ll be weird for a while, and I’ll definitely need to adjust-”

Adjust?! the voice shouted amusedly. Kid, you’ve seen more horrifying shit than a brahmin’s tail. This ain’t the kinda place for you. You’re a killer, a warrior. This namby pamby bullshit will never last. Besides, aren’t we forgetting one little issue?

As if to punctuate his point, an overwhelming sense of nausea struck me as I pitched to the side of the bed. I found the welcoming sight of an empty bucket, doubtlessly planted by Tender Heart for just such an occasion, as I emptied my stomach of my first home cooked meal. Following the expulsion, my body was struck with an unbearable chill. I shivered uncontrollably as I pulled as many blankets around myself as possible. The room began to spin, and I sealed my eyes in an effort to stave off the oncoming delirium. It wasn’t long before I came to a horrifying realization.

How long had it been since I’d taken any Rage?

A day? Two? Three? I couldn’t be sure, but it was certainly longer than any of my previous stretches of sobriety. The symptoms of withdrawal were something I was all too familiar with, and the only cure I’d ever known was to further feed my addiction. My old field medic’s briefly touched upon how to deal with soldiers being deprived their drug of choice. I clearly recalled that, in some extreme cases, withdrawal could be lethal.

I needed Rage. As much as I despised myself for thinking it, my survival was reliant on me injecting more. My mind began to race for a way to plead my case to Tender Heart, without losing my chance at being able to stay here.

Another barrage of shivering took hold, and my breathing turned to ragged, pained gasps. I tossed and turned in bed, desperate to rid myself of this torment. There wasn’t time to convince anypony, and I was in no state to try. I needed my drug, and I needed it now.

Through the discord rampaging across my thoughts, I heard the door click open. I peeled open my eyes and found the kindly, old mare standing in the doorway. Her visage passed in and out of clarity, but I managed to witness her look of concern. I also spied another can floating beside her.

Tender Heart warily approached. I felt her gently, yet firmly, secure my thrashing form. My head was tilted back, and my mouth opened. The tip of the can touched my lips, before the single most vile liquid I’d ever tasted danced across my tongue and down my throat. It was like slave gruel mixed with a dangerously high proof liquor. I wanted nothing more than to spit out whatever it was, but my jaw was pulled shut, and a massaging across my neck forced me to swallow.

Almost immediately the shaking reduced to a minor irritation, my stomach began to settle, and a bit of warmth returned. The world stopped spinning, and I looked up at the worried face of my savior.

“It’s alright, dear,” she whispered, a comforting smile spreading across her face. “Try and stay calm. The potion should help, but you’re not out of the woods yet. Let it do its work and then we must see about getting you something to eat. You’ll need all your strength if we’re going to beat this.”

“How did-” I gasped, trying to formulate a coherent thought, “how did you know?”

A bit of sadness crossed over the smiling mare’s eyes. “I’m not happy to say that you aren’t the first case of addiction I’ve had to treat amongst the children. Also, the pockmarks on your legs were a pretty clear indication.”

Tender Heart sat on the edge of the bed, keeping careful watch of me as the potion quelled my inner turmoil. When my breathing was calm once more, she scooted a bit closer and brushed aside a strand of my mane. I lurched back, once more breaking the loving touch.

“Oh,” she gasped, “I’m so sorry, dear. I completely forgot.”

“It’s ok,” I said hurriedly, wanting to smother any sense of remorse this wondrous pony could feel. “It’s not you, I swear, it’s just that I… don’t like... being... touched.”

Her smile only widened, “I understand, sweetheart. There’s no doubt your life has been unjustly hard, but I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you through this.” The smile diminished somewhat, and was replaced with a serious, but concerned expression, “However, I’m going to have to ask you something very difficult, but it’s paramount that I know to properly help you in your recovery.” She paused a moment, looking as if she was struggling greatly to find the right words, “Venture, I need to know what you’re addicted to, and for how long you’ve been taking it.”

I looked down at the bed, guilt blanketing me as I fought to find a proper response.

“Don’t be ashamed,” Tender Heart said. “This isn’t your fault. Somepony forced this curse on you, that much I can tell. But if we’re going to get you through this, the first step is knowing exactly what I’m dealing with.”

“Rage,” I murmured quietly. “Several times a week for… I don’t how how long.”

“What?!” Tender Heart responded, horror overtaking her expression. “What sort of sick, depraved monsters would force a child to-” she cut herself off before taking several deep breaths. Once she’d calmed herself, Tender Heart donned her warm smile once again. “We’re going to get you through this,” she stated confidently, “I promise.

“Now,” she continued, “I do believe I promised you some breakfast.”

My stomach gurgled in response.

Author's Notes:

The quote for this chapter is from Hunter S. Thompson