Dig Deep dropped to his rear, gasping for breath. His body ached all over and, if the monumental effort it took to lift his head was any indication, he was dying. Around him lay the bodies of Cutthroat’s team of slaves and Minders - all of them dead and scattered about the room, having used the last of their strength to move out of the way for the others to continue their glorious work. One by one they’d done this, until only Dig Deep and Cutthroat remained.

“It… is done…” Dig Deep wheezed. Cutthroat shambled over and sat next to him, her eyes sunken and her skin drawn across her bones. Her once fitted armor now hung loosely from her withered frame.

“Then I am one step closer to freedom,” she said. Her head rolled on her shoulders and looked weakly at Dig Deep. Without a word he got up and staggered from the room on wobbly legs, distancing himself from the temple. Cutthroat’s horn flickered with power as she lifted a match. She scraped the head of it along the stones of the temple until it caught fire and then she dropped it onto the loose collection of dynamite, grenades and mines that had been piled in front of its sealed door. The fuse of a stick of dynamite sparked into life and Cutthroat smiled. “At las-”

The explosion rocked the building. The doors to the dig site ripped from their hinges and warped from force and heat as they flew to either side of Dig Deep, missing him by scant inches. Motes of dust rained from the ceiling and several of the lights died as the building threatened to succumb to its age and wounds and come crashing down around him. But it was only a threat. When the rumbling began to settle, Dig Deep staggered through the blasted doorway. Dirt and smoke hung in the air, burning his lungs with each breath. Cutthroat, who had been reduced to so much red paste, coated the floor and walls in a thin film. Dig Deep strode through her remains, his eyes locked on the gaping maw of the temple. The stone entryway was scorched black, only the capstone was missing, having been blasted into rubble revealing a black void beyond.

“Finally… after all this time…” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath in the dusty air. He stepped up to the opening and, taking a deep breath, lifted a hoof across the threshold, his ears twitching as though listening carefully to something.

“No, I have come too far to stop now,” he said, and planted the foot on the ground inside the entryway. There was a rumbling, and the sound of stone grating against stone. Dig Deep’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but only blood spilled forth. He looked down at the crackling blade that sunk deep into his chest. It pulled free suddenly, disappearing into the darkness before him.

“G-g-...” he choked, as he staggered back from the temple entrance. A massive shape followed him, shrouded by the smoke and dust from the explosion. A pair of glowing blue eyes stared down at him as he struggled to back further away, blood spilling from the wound and onto the ground. An ornate halberd, sparking with blue electricity cut through the smoke. Dig Deep lifted a hoof to shield himself, but to no avail. The blade slashed cleanly through pip-buck, foreleg and throat in equal measure and Dig Deep split apart.

“I can understand your employer’s concern,” the mustard colored stallion said, folding his hooves over one another as he leaned forward onto his desk. He wore a pristine pre-war suit that, combined with his behavior, made him the spitting image of a businesscolt from an age long dead. His mane was slicked back and a small, well-maintained mustache curled beneath his nose. “However, I can assure you my operation will not affect his.” He stared at the trio of armed and armored Griffins that stood across from him. They looked terribly out of place in the posh office which, despite 200 years, still had a carpet that was only slightly burned and intact windows.

A timid orange mare approached them, a polished metal tray neatly balanced on her back, on top of which was a selection of drinks and snacks. One reached out and plucked up a bottle from the tray and pulled the cork with its beak. He spat it across the room before taking a hefty pull of the amber liquid within as Fortune continued. “It’s been well over a decade since we’ve even sent teams as far north as Baltimare. All of our current stock is pulled from the local area.”

“I get that, I do. But the boss sent me to be extra sure,” the lead griffon explained as he reached back, yanked the bottle away from his compatriot and took a swig for himself. He wiped his beak on his arm before continuing. “The wheels are turning back home and the boss is moving forward with... whatever it is he’s got planned. He wanted us to make doubly sure you’re not going to interfere with our... ‘supply lines’.”

Fortune offered the griffins a well-practiced political smile. “Rest assured that we want nothing from Fillydelphia. We are quite content right here,” he said, gesturing at the room around him. “If you’d like I can have you shown around, perhaps seeing our operation more closely might alleviate some of Red Eye’s concerns.”

“Nah, I think we’re good here,” the lead griffin said, holding up a talon. “We’ll let Red Eye know that you won’t be stepping on his hooves.” Seemingly content, he gestured at his comrades with a wing. They filed out of the room, their leader taking one final pull from the bottle, draining its contents. He dropped the bottle to the floor and let out a loud belch as he left. Fortune watched them go and when he was sure they were out of earshot he sighed. “Feathered monstrosities…” He then glanced at the mare. “Remind me to get another bottle out of storage.” The mare, her eyes downcast, nodded meekly and returned the tray to the wooden cabinet against the wall before moving to retrieve the bottle.

“Sir,” an armored unicorn stallion called as he slipped past the griffins and stopped at the threshold of the office. Fortune glanced at him and waved him in with a gesture of his hoof. He recognized Backbreaker, the stallion he employed as Lead Minder. The stallion hurried in and shut the door behind himself. “Sir, there’s… been a development.”

Fortune tensed visibly and turned to face the stallion. “What sort of… ‘development’?” he asked slowly. The stallion stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“We’re missing another scavenging team, sir,” he said. As he spoke, Fortune slid out of his chair and walked around to the front of his desk, his eyes narrowing. “As you are aware, a few weeks ago Cutthroat’s team went missing. We dispatched a second team, Bruiser’s, along the same path more than a week ago with the intent of locating them, or at least their bodies. But they have not returned either.”

Fortune’s eyes narrowed and he turned sharply and returned to his desk. He began tapping furiously on the keys of the terminal on there, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen. He paused a moment later and flicked his gaze towards Backbreaker who had gone silent. “Continue,” he said.

“Yes sir,” Backbreaker said. “Though I’m afraid that’s all the information I have to go on currently. I am… hesitant to dispatch another team, let alone a squad of Minders to track them down. We don’t need any more disappearing acts. I wanted to know how you wanted this handled.” Fortune nodded as he typed away, only half listening.

“You said Bruiser?” he asked. Backbreaker nodded. The terminal flickered and a pixelated picture that looked vaguely like Bruiser appeared before lines of text replaced it. Fortune’s eyes quickly darted over the information, far quicker than Backbreaker could read. He only caught the barest of information about ruins inhabited by ferals and the words ‘steer clear’ picked out in bold before he scrolled past.

“I see…” he muttered before turning back to his Head Minder. “Send for Zero. I would like to speak with him on the matter.” Backbreaker swallowed hard and nodded, then hurried from the room. Fortune turned to the mare who had been quietly waiting nearby, leaned on his desk, and gave her a warm smile. “That will be all for today, Daffodil. I think you’ve earned a rest.”

The mare nodded and silently trotted out, closing the door after her. When she was gone, Fortune’s placid smile melted into a snarl. He raised a hoof and pulled back his sleeve, revealing a sleek gray pip-buck. He tapped at it angrily. This was why he’d sent one of his own this time. Sure, it was also to keep an eye out for anything that might be of use to him. But it was also a way to track the team’s progress. He pulled up his peon’s tag signal and-

-it was gone.

Not out of range. Or weak.

Simply… gone.

“FUCK!” Fortune screamed, slamming a hoof down on his desk, damaging its centuries old surface. The door to his office clicked open. He opened his mouth to scream at whoever it was, but the familiar black and white stripes of Zero choked off his anger. He gestured him inside and stood from behind his desk, moving to stare out the window at the mine proper. He looked down past the crisscrossing gantries and watched the colorful horde of slaves as they worked.

“You sent for me, master?” Zero said as he shut the door with the tap of a hind leg and trotted to stand in front of Fortune’s desk.

“Yes, Zero. I did,” Fortune said. His words were clipped, his anger barely under control. “We have a… problem... with disappearing slaves.”

“It is my duty to free you from your vexations, master. Tell me how I may be of use,” Zero said with a slight bow of his head. Fortune took a deep breath, willing himself calm.

“Tell me, Zero,” Fortune said slowly, “What do we do with slaves that cause trouble for me?”

“We make examples of them, master. For all to hear. So that their mistakes are not made again by others,” Zero said without hesitation. Fortune turned slowly around to face the zebra, who quickly lowered his gaze to the floor.

“And what about for those in my employ who disobey me?”

“The same, master. Your rule is absolute and failure is not to be tolerated.”

Fortune smiled and crossed around his desk to place a hoof on Zero’s shoulder. “That is why I like you, Zero. You know your place perfectly. Would that I had an army just like you. I could conquer the world if it was what I truly wanted.” Fortune removed his hoof and trotted back to his desk. “Zero, I have some missing slave teams I would like you to track down. Cutthroat’s and Bruiser’s. You find them, and you bring them back here. I will not tolerate any more failure.”

Zero snapped to attention. “It would be my honor, master,” he said dutifully.

“Excellent. I will give you a vehicle. Choose a team of Minders to take with you and bring me back all my slaves,” Fortune said flatly as he returned to his terminal.

“Of course, master,” Zero said with a bow. “What of the missing Minders?” Fortune looked up from his terminal, his face a mask of indifference.

“As I said, Zero. Bring me back my slaves.”

Zero bowed his head once more and trotted to the door.

“Oh, and Zero?” Fortune called after him. Zero paused in the doorway and looked back. “Take Backbreaker with you. He needs a reminder of what happens to those who fail me.” The faintest hint of a smile tugged at Zero’s mouth and he nodded.

“As you wish, master.”

Lash sat in the Minder’s canteen, staring listlessly into the chipped bowl in front of her. Dozens of off-duty Minders sat at the arranged tables, chatting loudly, eating, and generally just killing time. At her table though, it was just her and Whips. She felt… off. Her main source of entertainment had been gone for some time now, and without him to torment she felt… empty… lost. She sighed and pushed the bowl away with a hoof, content to stare at the notched and scarred table surface rather than eat.

“Somethin’ wrong, hun?” Whips asked from across from her. “Ya hardly touched yer food,” he said as he levitated a spoon to his mouth.

“Not hungry…” she muttered, not looking up. Whips frowned and his spoon lowered into his bowl. He telekinetically brushed Lash’s tangled green mane aside and looked into her eyes.

“What’s eatin’ ya up?” he asked softly. Lash jerked away from her father and glared angrily at him, her face bright red. She whipped around as she heard a snicker from a nearby table, but saw nopony in particular paying her any attention. After a brief moment she turned back to Whips

“I told ya not ta do that ‘round the others, dad!” she hissed through clenched teeth. Whips frowned and wilted in his seat.

“Slaver or not, you’re still ma daughter,” he said quietly. Lash rolled her eyes at that.

“Fat lotta good that’s ever done me,” she said as she stood. “I’ve got work to do.” Her bowl levitated up with her and she hurriedly slurped down the soggy Sugar Apple Bombs. Wiping her chin on her foreleg, she casually flung the bowl at the kitchen area where a tired and drawn unicorn caught it in his magic and began to clean it in a basin of water. She trotted down the aisle of tables, making her way for the exit when an ugly orange-maned stallion leaned into the aisle to stop her.

“S’matter hun? Somethin’ wrong?” he asked in a nasally voice. Lash felt her face burn and her blood boil.

“Fuck you, Chains!” she spat. She moved to go around him, but the stallion slid out of his seat and positioned himself in her way once more.

“Ah c’mon. Daddy’s little angel can’t take a joke?” he asked as he stood up straight to look down on Lash who glared daggers at him. The other slavers at his table chuckled, clearly egging on their friend. “But I guess the biggest joke here is you.” A hush fell over the room as utensils clinked against dishes. The duo stood in silence for a moment. Chains stood tall, a smirk on his face. Lash stood like a statue carved in stone. With an angry shriek, she attacked. Panic flashed across Chains’ face as Lash barreled into him, driving him to the cracked tile floor.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” she screamed as she brought iron-shod hooves down on Chain’s face in a flurry of blows. Slavers scrambled from their seats and onto tabletops, not to break up the pair, but to get a better view. Cheers for and against them both erupted as it devolved into a full on brawl. Chains shoved her off and scrambled to his hooves, only to get tackled once more. The pair rolled across the floor as Lash bit down on his ear, drawing a pained yelp from him as he bashed his hoof against the side of her head.

“Outta the way! Outta the fucking way!” Whips yelled as he tried to force his way through the crowd that had gathered, his eyes wide with fear. “Lash? Lash!” he called. But she couldn’t hear him. All she could hear was the blood thundering in her veins as she did her level best to rip Chain’s stupid head from his body.

“Is there a problem?”

Everypony froze. Lash’s hoof stopped just inches from Chains’ already bloodied nose. The crowd split as Zero strode forward. He stopped just shy of Lash and Chains, staring down at them dispassionately.

“Well?” he asked. Lash and Chains untangled from one another and scrambled to their hooves.

“N-no! No problem, sir!” Lash said quickly as she picked an arbitrary stain on the wall behind Zero to stare at. Chains goggled at her and then looked at Zero as he jabbed a hoof in Lash’s direction.

“Like hell there ain’t! That bitch tried to kill me!” He looked back at Lash as he wiped blood from his nose and lip. “Maybe a good skinnin’ll teach her her place!” Lash’s eyes widened, but she remained silent. Zero looked them over silently. The room was so quiet you could hear a bloatsprite fart a mile off.

“You two will come with me,” Zero said flatly as he turned and started for the door. Lash felt her heart pounding in her chest as her ears flattened against her head. She knew what a trip with Zero meant. Her eyes darted around, seeking help or a weapon. Anything that would save her from-

“Oh fuck no! I ain’t goin’ with you! Do I look like a slave, ya striped fuck?!” Chains bellowed loudly. Zero stopped mid stride, his shoulders tense. He turned slowly and everypony backed up a step. Everypony except Chains, who continued. “Why don’t’chu just run on back to your little house o’ horrors and filet yourself another slave.” he said, raising his hoof and giving Zero a dismissive wave.

Zero was like black and white lightning. Before Chains could even react he’d slipped inside his reach, hooked Chains’ foreleg in his own and twisted. Chains was lifted from his hooves and swung in an arc over Zero’s shoulder and back down onto the tiled floor with enough force to crack them. He topped off the move by putting his hoof down on Chains’ exposed throat and holding him in place as he surveyed the room. When no one else made a move he looked down at Chains, leaning a little more weight onto his neck to make him cough and sputter.

“You may not be a slave. But you serve the same master I do,” he said slowly and carefully. “Do not make me remind you a second time.” Zero stepped off Chains’ throat and the pony pulled away, sucking air and coughing. “Now, come with me.” he said, looking at Lash as well. “There is work to be done.”

Lash swallowed hard and cast a worried glance into the surrounding Minders. Her eyes fell upon her father, looking equally worried and perhaps a bit pale. Reluctantly she peeled her gaze away from Whips and followed Zero and Chains out the door.

“Are… are we in trouble, sir?” Lash croaked. Zero looked over his shoulder at the mare, eliciting a flinch.

“No. We have some missing tools. It is up to us to retrieve them.”

Despite her worry, Lash’s ears perked up and a grin crept into place.

Author's Notes:

Meanwhile...