The hooves move quietly accross the wasteland. Their names and faces are blurs. You walk forward, as if your legs were being moved for you. You brain feels empty, lifeless, apathetic. Gravity pulls you down, harder than ever before.

The yellow demon walks beside you, watching you. Around her, the soldiers of Equestria. Bodyguards, you realize. You can't take a single step out of line.

You have no choices. Whatever you do, it doesn't matter. You can't die. You can't live. You can't be You. You a plaything. A minor role in you own story.

What even is the point anymore? S̙̜͈͕͙̫̕ͅt͚̥̼ṷ̱͉͇͓̠̞c̪̳͇̺̣̫̀k̳̬ ̼o̺͢n̛̩̺͖͖ ҉̰̱̻̗̳r̶͍a̮̳͎̦̳̘͕i̮̘̣̜͍͎ļ̠̣r͏̜̤͈ͅo̞a̜͓̹͚̩̙̙͟d̲͟ t̳r̴a͓̺̠͍͙͖̩ck̭̟s͉̜͇,̺̻̼͉͖͘ ̮͟ͅg̖̣̻̪u̳̣̦̞͍͕i̪̣̹͈̦̦d̻͕͖̖̮͝ͅi͈͟n͕̫̯g̰͙̼͇͈ ̹̹͍̣͟y̘͕̟͖o̬͍ṵ̷̰ ̴̮̩̯͇͈o̩̙̬͙͔n̲̗̘̻̭͈ ҉s̼͎̠͜o̘̟͈͇m͜e̖̝̦̲̲͖͉ ̵p̯̯̞͘a͏̭̟̲͈t͍͍̺̤̕h̡̞̱̲̖͎̮̦?͙ͅ A͕͇ ̶̶̹̺̱̬̪̕p̡̡̩̱͉̝̱á̝̪̼͚̣̤̬̪͟͡t͏̟̘̺̰͈͟͝h͓͈̘̭̲̺́ ̶̗͝t̻̦̼̀͜ͅo̳͔̫̜͇̮͎̯͡͞ ̴̼̱̬̹́͝w̢͖͇h̷̀҉̦̘a̧̤͍̻̮͞͝ṱ̷̥̠̫?̖̰̝̳̬͓̳̙͙́̕ ̞̣͕͢Y̶̴͙͖̥̹͈̟͇̻o̧͖̞̹͇̙ú͖̹͔̣ ̢̹͉͘͠ͅc̗̻̤̘̳͝͡a̷̷̶̹̼n̷̸͇̳̜͍͈̩'҉̵͕͕̩͉͚ṯ̵̝̝͍̞ ̧͎̳̫p̶͙̱ͅr̷͓̼͔̰̘͖̮ò̞͖̪̪̺̹̲̱̗t͇͔̯̫͓̫e͔̯̱͙̪̳̭͍c̷̛̳̼͉͎̭̱̺̬͞t̴̖̰̩̘̗̺̗̀̕ ̺̟̻̬̭͔h͖͎͚̰̱̰̬̥̕e̘̣̳̦͓̘̫̖̲ŕ̢̟̦̠̯̺.͏̜̳̮͈̮͜ There's only Fluttershy.
S̨̑̽͊̽̈̉҉̻̳̣̬̱̜̳̬̖̫͈́͟͞h̵̨͒ͤ͑͗͐̒͒ͩ̔̍̈̊̉̒́͂͆̚͏̪̘̰̪̻̣̀ë́̾ͪ͗͐̒͢҉̩̲̣̬̤̫̳͕̜̖͉͇̳͔̰'̶̧̞͉͉̲̖̬̻̻͇̋̃͂ͨ͛ͯ́s̢͚̞͙͇͈̤̣̱͕̪͚͖̬̤̗̀ͩ͑̄̍ͤ̀̑͗̏͊̃̏͊̄̐̃͒̕ͅ ̨ͦ̓̔̾͗̎͋̋͏̖̮̙͚̫͎àͧ͆ͥ̍̎̎̆͛͋̅̓ͣ̿͏̷̨͖̺̖͇̟̫̺̬̲͎͍̝̻͈̘̠͈͡ͅț̵̷̞̹̤͉̳̟͓̹͚̖̹̠̮̻̿́̿̔͢͢ ̴̭̜̭͔͙̩̬̬͔̖̩̩̮̝̹̹ͯ̿ͫ̚ȩ̷͒̂̉̌ͭ̑͂ͣ̇̾͌̽ͣ̿͂ͣͬ̚҉͎̜͕̪̭̖͎ͅv̷̧̭̗̮̲̝̈́͑̅̉ͬ͒ͮ̾ͤ̽̓̓͂̎̑͑̀̋̈ĕ̢̯̤͇̺̯̙͉̼͇̹̼̺͎̝̮͙͆ͤ͐ͫͭ̔̓̆͐ͧͨ͐̿͗̅̇̇͜͡r̶̨̟͎̣̝̬̰̣̟̣̩͙͍̥͑͛͊ͦ̓̀̓͆̍̈́ͨ͐̽ͭͫ́͡ý̷̸̡͕̝̱̤̯̩̘̱̜̻̬̪͓͍̮̙͇̬̅̄̄ ̵̸̧͖̼̝̠͎͉͎̭̣̞͕̬͓̹̭̼͙̄̏͐ͣ̋̓͋̈ͦ͋ͬ̔̌ͨ̄͟ş͚̳̫̤̮̼̜͈̬̤̙̻̦͉͙̬̰͍ͮ͂͐ͥͦ͛̂ͦ̃ͮͬ̽̃͒̕͡ţ̦͚̩̲̻̉͛ͮͬͥ̆ͧ́̑͟͢͞e̡̗̞̩̳͉̺̰̪ͩͩ͒́ͩ̈́͟͡͡p̾̿̿̓̓̾͐ͦ̃͌̊ͧͪ̅̊ͥ͠҉͡͏̧̻̰͈̥͇͙͙̣̻̘̪̬̗̩͕ ̧̑ͭ͂ͥ͋͆̕͜҉̡͕̝͎̗̼̬͕̮͕̱̠̲̭̼̙͕͓o͗͆ͨͦ̌ͪ͆̐̐ͭ̌̈ͫͯ̈́͗̂͏̷̨̗̹̠̙͈͠͞f̵̣̦͔͕̳̰̤ͫ͊ͩͦͯ̑̽ͭͤͪ̈́̅ͤ̍ͤ̑̀̑̋͘͠ ̛̞̞̞͚̱̞͎̩̳̠̜͉̱̲̠̫̩̳͔ͥͫ͒̎̿̓̀̆̅ͧ̍̀͛͆ͨͩͭt͊̇́̈ͦ͆ͮ̈͌̿̽͢͏̠̱͓̼h̢̠͉̲̟̟̗̙̱͎͈ͤ̃͌̒̐̒̂̄͜ȩ̝͈̳͍̲̄̅ͧͣ̓ͪͫ͌͆̉͂ͯͤ͐̍̏̊̀̕͠͞ ̛̯̥̭̣͍͖͔͚̜̼̥̗̣̤̜̱̮̹̈̔͂̊̏̒͊͂ͩ͒̂̀͡w̋ͨ̔͋ͧ̚҉͜͏̠̘̙͚̭̫̘̺̞͙̫̪̟̲͕̜̱͙å̢̤̙̻̣̳̻ͯͥ̎̀̓̆̋̄ͦ̃̌̊̈ͦͫͦ͠͡y͛̈́ͦ̓̑ͨ͒ͩ̋̂͗ͫ̾ͧ̀̚͜͏̜̥͈̝̰̝ͅ.̴̢̛̞̦͎̩̥̳͖̜̥̻̱̳͙̟̬͙͋̿̊̑͌ͫ͋̄ͤͧͨͅ ̷̨̼̳̩͇̬͈͚̹͍͊̀ͭͤͧ̈́̍͒̇̅̐͟͟S̨̨̭̜͍̤̹͓̭̻̗̼͈̳̺̰̙̖̣̼̅̋͛ͫ̈́̊͛̔͐͋̊ͨ̾ͧ͐͂͌̄̚̕͞ͅh̨͑̔ͬͪͤͤ̍͌̚͘͞͏͓͔̯̲̣̙̝̪̹̲͖̺̯̝̻̗̬ę̛̻͎̖̥̖͑̓́ͬ͋ͬ̒̏̃̂ͬ̽͒̏ͯ͟͟͠'̴̝̙̠̣͖̭̣̼͉̎̍̂͒ͯ͘ͅs̝̱͚͇̦͇̹̝̰͚̜̹͛̃̉͗̉̍̍͒͑ͨ̍̍͒̆͌́̚͠-̵̲̭̬̰͖̭͚̺̬̼̺̹̘̲͚̖̜̼̂̓͌̉̅ͬ̈́̎͝͝

> sudo admin
Please enter password: *******

Welcome Fluttershy, How can I help?
>Revoke priv -all

This will revoke all administrator privileges from all non-creator users, continue?
>yes

"I'm in," Red says to herself.

With a simple key press, the world around her has an unspeakable tension lift from the air.

"Now, I think it's time to get this story back on track," Red says to herself. She turns to a dog, sitting beside her. "I'm going to go out, okay? I don't think the ponies will try to kill us anymore. But we should still be quiet, alright?"

The dog looks at her blankly, her panting breath is warm to Red's fur.

"Good girl, Red," she says, rising to her hooves.

The mare looks at herself in a piece of jagged mirror. She takes a nearby cloth and begins wrapping her face into a sun-mask. Throwing on a cloak, she stepped out of a small tent, one of many in a sea of tents. Around her, many ponies of stange stature and muzzles. Each wearing matching sun-masks and cloaks.

She takes a deep breath and approaches a stallion. She reaches into her cloak and holds her dagger.

"Excuse me?" Red asks. "This is the line for enrollment, right?"

The stallion looks the mare up and down.

"You think you're built for war, missy?"

Red relaxes and takes her hoof off the concealed weapon.

"I may not look it, but I'll fight to the death for what I want."

The stallion smiles.

"Then yes, this is the line. The Equestrian forces are only a day or so away, so we need every troop we can get."

Red nods and turns to the line of ponies.

"Good," she says trotting forward. "Because this is my story now."