Dear Diary,

Last night I couldn’t sleep well. I had another nightmare again, and it went like this:

I was walking down a street in my old neighborhood, past all of the houses that were there, and looking for mine. But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find it. It was late at night, and most of the houses were completely dark, but some of them had lights on in certain rooms. At first, I couldn’t see what was going on inside because the shades were up, but as I kept going down the road, I saw more and more houses without shades. And inside the rooms, I could see groups of ponies-- no, families-- doing things together: watching TV, eating dinner, playing games, dancing… all kinds of stuff. But the most important things were that they all resembled each other enough to look like actual families, and that they all seemed to be having fun.

No dysfunction, no resentment, no missing members, no nothing. Everypony was there, and everypony was enjoying themselves. Wow. I can’t remember the last time my own family acted like this-- must have been years ago-- or if we had ever been like that at all.

I continued walking, becoming more and more desperate to find my home. All of the houses on the street began to look exactly like my house, but I knew that none of them were. Even the house numbers became the same, but I still knew in my heart that none of them were mine. Even if the lights weren’t on, even if nopony was home, I just wanted to get inside and be with the furniture-- they were as much a part of my family as any pony was. But the more I looked, the more things I found that were just unfamiliar to me.

Then I came across a long dark stretch where none of the houses had any lights on. It was in this stretch, on the right hoof side, that I eventually found it. I crept up to the window and looked inside, finding everything exactly as I had remembered it, all down to the dimness of the lighting. The only new addition was that of an adolescent filly of about medium height, wearing jeans and a midnight blue sweatshirt, and saddle bags hanging from her sides. She was wistfully examining framed pictures on a shelf, pictures of a family that once was happy but no longer was, giving each of them the careful attention of a last goodbye.

But she didn’t stay for long. Soon, she headed towards the front door and opened it. I didn’t want her to see me, so I dove into the hedge in front of the living room and watched her from there. The filly closed the door, locked it, and then headed down the road towards a very tall hill in the distance. I lept out of the bushes and continued following her, wanting to know where she went while half-knowing just where she intended to go, and maybe even stop her from getting there. But then she just kept walking faster and faster, until she was walking so fast that I had to run just to keep up. Then the houses ended and the hill began, the road going up and up but never turning, until it finally got to the top of the hill. The filly walked over the peak and down the other side, disappearing from view. I couldn’t lose sight of her for long or else I would lose her forever, so I ran as fast as I could up that hill. It was hard work, but eventually I reached the peak and lept… over a cliff?!?

As I lost all sense of control, I fell, backwards, into a deep abyss of gaping darkness. Having nothing to grab onto to stop my fall or even to comfort me during my fall, I screamed. Falling, falling, with nothing to break it, this was ten-- no, twenty, no, a hundred times worse than the steepest roller coaster. What made it even worse was the knowledge that nopony could do anything to save me, and that nopony would even hear my screams… well, one pony would. I looked up in the night sky above the hole and saw the stars and the moon, symbols of Princess Luna’s divine reign. Perhaps she would see me, and at least inform all the other ponies of my demise… or would she?

As I fell deeper into the hole, it closed in around me and made the celestial objects appear smaller and more distant. Darkness closed in around me until I could no longer see the stars, just the moon set on top of a background of dark blue-purple the size of a porthole window, surrounded by complete darkness. Then I could no longer see the moon, and I knew then that not even the astronomer princess could find me. I kept falling and falling, and right before the darkness enveloped me completely, the dream ended and I woke up sweating.

I stood inside a large marble structure overlooking the city through the metal grid of what was once a glass wall. The city was dead and lifeless, but sounds echoed through the ruins, as if the buildings were a giant seashell made of steel and concrete. The echoes of a long lost civilization, once vibrant and alive, but now only existing in memories. And if those memories die… then so will everything that millions of ponies have spent their lives working so hard to achieve. There was another break in the clouds up above, this time much bigger, and through it I could see the stars shining brightly overhead, their great numbers highlighting the emptiness of the scene below.

For the first time since leaving the Stable, I began to feel sad. I sat on a bench, feeling sad for… well, I really don’t know. Was it for the cruel fate of millions of ponies I had never met? Or was it because sixteen years of my life had just vanished in an instant? All I can say for certain is that I felt a sadness, a level of sadness that was enough that it clearly showed in my face, but not sad enough to make me cry (I really don’t cry all that often).

Suddenly, a foreleg wrapped itself around my neck and a hoof landed squarely upon my shoulder. I turned my head around and saw Oleander with a calm smile on her face. It made me feel uncomfortable to feel somepony I didn’t know all that well touching me like this, but it also made me feel better.

The discomfort must have shown more prominently, since Oleander took her foreleg off me and her smile turned into a small frown. She also backed a few inches away, giving me a little space at one of the few times I didn’t need it.

“No...” I said, wanting to say more, wanting to ask her to stay and hug me again, but I couldn’t get the words out.

“I’m not leaving you, Silver,” she said, most of the usual ice having melted out of her voice, but the firm, authoritative tone remaining. She stepped a few inches back and sitting next to me on the bench. “Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m just worried,” I said. “Worried about what’s going to happen next. About where I’m going to go. If I’m even going to have a- a- ugh, I just-- had a bad dream, that’s all.”

“You’re worried about your future?” Oleander asked. I nodded very slightly.

“You must to have hope,” she said. “You have to believe in yourself.”

“But how can I have hope or believe in myself if I don’t know where I belong or what I’m supposed to do?” I asked.

“Why don’t you tell me about your dream first?” Oleander asked.

So I did. I told her about my dream, but only what I could get into words, which was… admittedly little. It was a very basic rundown of the dream, which I hoped was still sufficient for her to interpret.

“From what I can gleam,” she said, “It would seem as if it is a manifestation of both your greatest desire, and your greatest fear. You want to be accepted and you want to be loved. Unconditionally, for who you are. If you cannot attain this, you are perfectly willing to walk away and search elsewhere until you find what you’re looking for. Your greatest fear is that you will be rejected by everypony, and that you will die alone.”

My jaw dropped at the sheer accuracy of that statement. I was certain she must have used some mind-reading magic because even with the information that I withheld from her, she read me like a book. However, it still didn’t quite make complete sense.

“But-- why would I be afraid of being alone?” I asked. “I’m not afraid of being alone. I like being alone.”

“Sometimes, yes,” she replied. “But not forever. You do need other ponies, but you tell yourself that you don’t because you refuse to accept that you’re dependent.”

“Dependence is not a bad thing. You are nothing without the support of others, just as I am nothing without my magic. You may not conceive of your life that way, but it’s still true, and maybe one day you will come to understand that. The sooner you can accept your nature, the overwhelming desire to attach to something, the better.”

I thought about this for a minute, and although it seemed pretty accurate, it didn’t quite sit well. I don’t think my problem is necessarily dependency per se, but one of how I relate to the world.

“So, what I want most in my life is to find someplace to belong?” I asked.

She smiled. “Precisely. In the coming months, you will scour the world in search of companions. If you find many who you find agreeable, then you may satisfy your desire and find inner potential that you never knew existed. You will reach your goal when you have finally found a place to call home. I too was once cast out of my community at a young age, though not by choice. After a long journey, I found my place, as will you if you do not succumb to any temptations along the way. And perhaps...”

She paused for a minute and looked at the stars.

“Perhaps… Luna will help you.”

We stared out at the stars together for a few minutes.

“However,” she declared, turning to face me, “Forgive me for being blunt, but you cannot stay here, and neither can your friends. I built this organization as a tight-knit clan held together by shared values. And from what I can sense of your soul, you do not share those values. And in dire times such as these, we cannot risk allowing strangers to mingle freely among our ranks.”

“I understand,” I said.

“And that... friend of yours,…” Oleander continued, “she pulled some shit with my guards to get you in, I have no doubt. I’m merely pretending that you’re my guests so the others still think I’m in control--so they can think they’re still safe. Imagine what a disaster it would be if it were discovered that I, the great Oleander, ultimate authority on all things relating to the dark arts, couldn’t even maintain a simple shield spell without letting something slip in.”

Then, turning directly to face me, she said,

“Tomorrow morning, you and your friends have to leave.”

“That’s what we were planning to do in the first place,” I said.

“Good,” she said, beginning the walk back to her quarters. “It is better for us both that way.”

“Uh… goodnight,” I said meekly, uncertain if she would hear me, or even care.

To my surprise, she briefly stopped, turned her head around, and returned my farewell.

“Goodnight.”

The next morning, we awoke to find it was snowing outside the shield. Everypony seemed to move 20% more lethargically today, as ponies are apt to do on snow days, so me and my friends took our time in eating breakfast and getting ready to go. I would normally be excited, or at least somewhat happy, to have a snow day, but because we had some traveling we had to do today, I was not. I was anxious to leave, and many in the OLF were anxious to see us go, and even though we had a legitimate excuse, their patience was visibly wearing thin. Dmitry also seemed to share my feelings, suggesting that we leave several times this morning, but Grapevine vetoed every proposal because, in her words, “It’s too cold.”

However, I was most worried about Katie, who seemed to delight in trying the OLF’s patience, and spent the whole morning poking around other ponies’ stuff. I swear I even saw her steal a few things here and there, not because they were of any use, but simply because she could. We really needed to get out of there before Katie got herself, and us by association, into trouble.

At 11:00 sharp, we were standing around near the elevator when an off-duty Blackberry Prickle marched up to us wearing a wry smile and then started pushing us towards the elevator.

“Chop-chop, fillies! It’s time to go. Come on, move it, move it, you’ve overstayed your welcome and it’s about time you leave. Come on, get to that elevator, it’s time for you to leave, Oleander’s orders.”

“Wait-- did she really say that?” asked Dmitry.

“Nooo...” said Blackberry, “But if I say that she said it, they’ll believe it.”

She motioned behind her to a small crowd that was gathering behind her. Half of them seemed happy that we were finally being forced to leave, and the other half were angry that we weren’t moving toward the elevator fast enough. Glory was at the front, gently tapping the smooth part of a nail bat against her palm.

“We’re going to leave now,” I said, quickly putting on my saddlebags and trotting over to the elevator. The mob advanced, forcing us to retreat to the bridge. I smacked the call button and waited desperately for the elevator car to save us. Glory and Blackberry were halfway across the bridge, both grinning with the zeal of a school bully about to beat the pulp out of the protagonist, just like that scene in every school-related movie ever. If I wasn’t at risk of getting beaten up by professional terrorists, I would have found such a scene laughable.

After a minute that seemed like ten, the elevator’s doors opened and we scrambled inside. I hit the ‘Lobby’ button, then the ‘Close Door’ button, and after another overly long minute, the doors finally closed. By then, the mob had come right to the doors of the elevator, essentially trapping us completely.

At the last minute, Blackberry slid her way into the elevator, brandishing a machine gun. I didn’t know if they were changing the guard or what, but she seemed to go out of her way to make herself intimidating to us.

When the elevator opened at ground level, Blackberry pushed us out of the elevator, then followed closely behind us as we stepped away from it. The on-duty elevator guard seemed utterly confused by what was going on, but I wasn’t: Blackberry had followed us down here to make sure we left. And we sure did, mindful of the intimidating eyes watching us from the mob on the elevator bridge. At the moment, I had forgotten about the shield and was genuinely worried that they might shoot me if I didn’t back away fast enough.

We kept going, but Blackberry had stayed put, standing next to the elevator and watching us walk away. Once we had gotten several yards or so away, she yelled,

“And don’t come back! Especially not you!”

Pointing to Katie, who innocently asked us, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you,” said Dmitry. “You almost got us killed back there-- at least a dozen times. What were you thinking, leading us in there like that?”

“I was just looking for a place to stay overnight,” she said. “I mean, a safe compound guarded by a bevy of trained soldiers and an insanely powerful mage? That’s a true luxury these days. Most places make you pay for that kind of stuff. Not to mention the free food.”

Dmitry grumbled, but said nothing.

“And besides, I wanted to broaden your horizons,” Katie added. “How many ponies get a guided tour of a real-life terrorist training camp?”

Dmitry just glared at her. Grapevine seemed impressed.

“So, what is it ya do for a living?” asked Grapevine. “Err.. did ya do?”

"I'm an inventor," Katie replied. "I invent stuff."

"Ooh, cool," said Grapevine. "What kind of things?"

"I've invented lots of things," said Katie. "Like the noodle fan. And toilet golf. And the solar-powered cigarette lighter. And the car exhaust grill. And the egg cuber. And lipstick made entirely of butter. And diet water. Pretty much whatever I feel like."

"Oh my gosh, you were the one who invented diet water?"

"Diet... water?" asked Dmitry.

"Yup," said Katie. "That was all me. And it was a breakthrough invention, too. The one that made me rich."

"I love that stuff!" exclaimed Grapevine. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure."

They stopped so they could sign the autograph. Grapevine spent five whole minutes rifling through her bags to find some paper, not finding any, then looking again but still not finding anything. So then she turned to me.

"Umm... Silver? Can I have some paper?"

"Alright."

So I tore a piece out of this journal and gave it to her. Then she looked through her bags but couldn't find anything to write with. Then, turning back to me, she asked:

"Ummm... a pen too, please?"

"Alllright..."

A little annoyed at how long this was taking, I reached into my bag and gave her a pen, which she turned around to give to Katie, but she had already produced a writing utensil-- an eagle feather, to be exact-- which looked like it had been dipped in…

"Oww!"

I felt a prick in my shoulder like a needle had been stuck in it, and stretching my collar to see what had happened, I saw a dollop of blood. What was even stranger was about it was that nothing had pierced my coat or stable jumpsuit.

"Oh, I'm out of ink."

I reflexively clenched my shoulder in case it happened again, but instead I heard Dmitry say "ow." I looked up and saw him clutching his shoulder.

"Aaaand... done!"

Katie gave the paper to Grapevine and stuck the feather in the brim of a black tricorn hat which had somehow materialized on her head.

"How... did?" I asked, but the question seemed so absurd that I decided not to ask.

We continued north, eventually crossing under the highway 30 bypass, bringing us into a sprawling industrial park at the far north of town.

“We’re almost at the airport, guys,” I said. “But maybe we should find a place to stay tonight before going into the airport? It might take us all day to search the place top to bottom.”

“Good idea,” said Dmitry. “There are lots of hotels around here. Do you have any preferences?”

“How about the Consulate Suites?” I suggested. “I stayed there once. That place is amazing.”

“That sounds good,” said Dmitry. Then he asked the others, “Any objections?”

“Yeah, I have an objection,” said Katie. “What if we can’t make it there in time?”

“Of course we’ll make it in time,” said Dmitry. “We’re only thirty minutes away.”

“Well, on the off-chance that we aren’t able to make it...”

“We’ll make it, don’t worry,” said Dmitry. “It’s only about noon. We have plenty of daylight left.”

As they were arguing, I looked at the road ahead and noticed it was snowing again. The snowfall had come on rather suddenly, rather suddenly, like, starting less than a minute ago, and it was steadily getting heavier.

“Well, if we can’t get to a hotel on time, then we’ll just have to seek shelter in the nearest building,” Dmitry replied. “Does that answer your question?”

“Why yes, yes it does,” said Katie.

Then snow began growing harder. And harder. And harder still. And then I realized it was hail.

“Oh shit, it’s fucking hailing!” I cried as my head began to be pelted by pebble-sized chunks of frozen ice.

“We have to find cover!” said Dmitry.

“Where?” asked Grapevine.

“There’s a Ministry warehouse just over there,” said Katie, pointing at a large yellow warehouse made of corrugated iron Come on, let’s go!”

It seemed like an odd choice, but it was the best option, as it happened to be the warehouse that had the closest pickable door. Left with no better options, the four of us bolted towards it, with Katie taking the lead.

The last time I remember being in a warehouse like this was when I was doing a school play. Dozens and dozens, if not hundreds of costumes in all colors, materials, and sizes lined the walls of a blocky room, with nooks and crevices twisting and turning outwards like a knot of roots at the base of a tangle of poison ivy. Normal warehouses were square or rectangular. This made no sense.

Neither did Katie's thought process as she scampered about the building, picking up random odds and ends: styrofoam cups, straws, bowling pins, empty cans, those little party blower things-- It seemed as though she was just picking up anything that happened to catch her eye. It was completely counter-intuitive, since she traveled on hoof and should be traveling light.

But this was how we spent our afternoon, poking around a Ministry of Morale warehouse while waiting for the storm to subside. I kept going over to the front office and checking the window to see if it was clear, but it was to no avail. My checks became less and less frequent because nothing changed, and it seemed as though we would be trapped here until the next morning... assuming we ever got out at all.

The warehouse interior was like a house of horrors throughout. The gaudy and kitsch designs, combined with the dim lighting of the place, created an atmosphere you would find on the grounds of a carnival on a dark and stormy night. It was unnerving, to say the least, and the deeper you got the more likely it seemed like a clown holding a bloody knife would step out of the shadows. But so far, the only other living things we saw in here were the occasional ant or spider who had made their home in the crevice between boxes of junk and fed from the decaying sugary baked goods stored near the facility's kitchen. The frequency of bugs increased exponentially as you neared the kitchen, and I dared not enter for fear of finding something extremely disgusting, like a mega-spider or a zombie clown chef.

Strangely enough, the building still had a supply of electricity, which alleviated some of my fears because it allowed me to navigate the building in the comfort of the yellow lukewarm fluorescent lighting you can expect from any government owned building instead of stumbling through this haunted house of a building in the dark with nothing but my pipbuck’s flashlight.

Given the circumstances I described above, I’ve made it a point to spend the night in the one part of the building that seems normal: the front office. Having a door to the outside made it an even better choice because I can quickly escape if anything went wrong. It’s not like I’m scared or anything… well, maybe a little bit. I’m just… concerned. Concerned about the look of this place. This is honestly the sketchiest warehouse I’ve ever been in, and being all abandoned and infested with bugs only makes it sketchier.

Because of my insistence on sleeping in the front office, even though there were other rooms with much softer things to sleep on and I would have to listen to the hail rapping against the window all night, Dmitry also decided to sleep in the front office because he didn’t want me to be alone. Grapevine also joined us, leaving Katie, who really wanted to sleep in one of the MoM’s bounce houses, to go off and sleep alone.

It was kinda nice having just the three of us again, especially after being dragged into highly suspicious lodgings two nights in a row by a pony who gave rather dodgy answers to all personal questions.

“Tomorrow morning, I say we ditch her,” Dmitry declared. “She’s been giving us nothing but trouble for the past… thirty-six hours!”

“Why? Ah think she’s pretty cool,” said Grapevine.

“Well, I’d like to get away from her too,” I said. “She’s kinda creepy, and mysterious, and hasn’t really told us much about herself.”

“Neither have you,” Grapevine said wryly.

It was true. I hadn’t really told either of them much about myself. But they could at least trust me, seeing as we’ve all known (or at least been aware of) each other for several months. We were stable buddies, united by a common purpose and all having been to hell and back. But this… Katie… she just appeared out of nowhere.

“You know, I don’t even think ‘Katie’ is her real name,” said Dmitry.

“Why not?” asked Grapevine. “She’s been pretty friendly.”

“Because I can feel it,” said Dmitry. “Even the first time she introduced herself, I knew in my gut she was lying. Besides, what kind of pony names their kid ‘Katie,’ anyway?”

“Well, what kind of changeling names their kid Di-di… di… Dimimi?” Grapevine retorted, her mouth tripping over her tongue as it does when she’s trying to pronounce anything that sounds remotely foreign. “Why not something simple, like ‘chrysalis,’ or ‘thorax,’ or ‘pupa’?”

“Well, ‘Chrysalis’ was one of the most popular fillies’ names before the revolution...” Dmitry mused. “...And we had a defense minister named Pupatov, and-- hey! Are you implying us bugs again?”

I felt I had to jump between the two before things got out of hoof.

“Okay, that’s enough, you two. Grapevine, you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Me? Why???”

“Because you started this,” I said sternly.

“I was just asking a simple question...”

"Well, you're being insensitive."

Grapevine said nothing.

"So, I think it's decided: we need to ditch her," I said, scanning the room for the others' approval.

Dmitry seemed pretty satisfied with the proposition, (or at least my approval of it since he proposed it in the first place,) while Grapevine remained silent, realizing she was overpowered.

"Ditching her outright might arouse suspicion, or hurt her feelings," I continued. "But I think we might be able to keep her out of the airport if we insist it's dangerous enough."

"I don't know," said Grapevine. "She kinda likes danger."

"We'll think of something," said Dmitry.

"Yeah, we'll think of something," I said. "If not, we could always just ditch her."

"Or maybe we could be honest with her about our feelings," said Grapevine. "Maybe if we just tell her we need some space, she'll grant it."

"Yes, maybe," Dmitry said yawning and lying down on the couch. "Well, I'm going to sleep now, and you two should too."

"Hey, I thought Silver was going to sleep on the couch," Grapevine protested. "Does that mean I get to sleep on the beanbags?"

I looked over at the mass of giant black beanbags in the corner and realized that they made a pretty good bed. They were even arranged to form a mattress, possibly Grapevine's doing in anticipation for the night. I chucked my coat onto the beanbag mattress, where it landed in a small clump.

"No," I said. "I will sleep there after I finish my watch. You get to sleep on the floor, or you can clear off that desk and sleep on top of it if you really want to."

"Wait-- maybe we can do hot bunking?" proposed Dmitry. "I'll sleep there after my shift, and you can sleep there until then. We only need two beds, and It's kind of cruel to make her sleep on the floor in these temperatures."

I conceded to this, and agreed that we would punish Grapevine in some other form at a later date.

After they went to sleep, I stayed up alone, sitting at the desk trying to work out a strategy for our attack on the airport, although I quickly realized that since I don't have any intelligence on the place yet I can't make any informed decisions. I have the feeling that going directly through the front entrance would be undesirable, and perhaps suicide if the zombies were waiting for us. Do zombies even have the ability to plan and think ahead? Perhaps we'll find out. In any case, it might be better if we start at one of the concourses and work our way through. That would allow us to make a coordinated sweep through the place.

Another question that I thought about was whether we should go in guns-a-blazing, or if we should move cautiously and rely on stealth to minimize engagement? We might run out of bullets if we just shoot everything in sight, or end up killing the very ponies we’re trying to save. Well, in any case we won’t know until we get there, though I feel nervous about going into this situation unprepared. The only thing I know for certain is that, if experience has taught us anything, we’ll need to stick together, since it’s easy to get lost in a place that big.

Progress to Next Level: 225/1700