If nothing else, I have to give it to the designers at Sky Bandit.

The dynamo was a genius idea for the ground-based pony, and utterly useless to the standard clientele of pegasi or those on the front line, who relied on self-powered vehicles rather than traditional horse powered ones. The idea was perfect for the everyday merchant; powered by a spark battery, it reduced the weight of the entire cart to make pulling it a breeze. It felt no different to walking at a normal pace, only with a bigger consideration for corners, and was nearly whisper silent.

Once you had sold your wares, you walk back without the need for the weight to be reduced, so the wheels would power a dynamo that turned the motion back into stored power for the battery. Nearly infinite use from one battery, all from what you’d be using the cart for anyway. Simple, flawless, fantastic.

And utterly unheard of, as the only prototype was in my family’s workshop at the time.

Carbon’s Triumph rattled along the road, bringing a groan from Clean as he tried to work out how to rest in his new wheelchair. It was cobbled together from rough ideas, Clean’s directions, and my sister’s old copy of TLC Squared, but it worked all the same. The task also brought out a side of Clean I had never seen before, that of a pony well versed in metal and wood work.

He had waved off the praise quickly, pointing out that it was common sense to know how to do it from weapon maintenance. This was quickly countered when Domino reminded him that he was the one who reinforced her labcoat and did the clothing repairs as well. He rarely made noise after that.

It had eaten up a few days building the chair and cart, but that time had let us scavenge Fetlock Fields thoroughly. There wasn’t anything worth taking left in the town, but we were better supplied since we left Fillydelphia. That’s not to say we were well off, ammo was still scarce and the others were thankful I didn’t need any food else we would be in trouble.

The road to Hope was a long one. Located between Ponyville and where Appleloosa once stood, we had the Everfree forest on one side and raider country on the other. We rested during the day, venturing out occasionally to look for friendly ponies to barter with, and travelled at night. With dynamo system in place, one of us could sleep next to Clean and our gear, one would pull and one would stand guard. Clean, meanwhile, controlled the gun.

I didn’t want mum’s old recoilless rifle falling into the wrong hooves, now.

While ammo was limited, it was powerful enough to punch through a light zebra tank. It was overkill for anything short of a Steel Ranger, making it a very good deterrent when raiders became a little too bold. After firing a single round that manage to go through a building, and out the other side, the one party brave enough to try turned tail and ran. It was a waste of ammo to chase them down, but it did stop anyone else trying their luck.

Just on the outskirts of the town, we settled down for the night. As the campfire popped and hissed at the canned meals on it, we discussed what the plan was once we were inside the town.

“No point in taking the cart in, not ‘til we find this warehouse,” Clean said, sipping at another healing potion. “Won’t be a sign pointin’ us to it, and we can use it to set up a camp.”

“Where would this sort of warehouse be, Hard?” Domino asked, hissing as a spark leapt out at her.

I mulled the question over a canteen of filthy water. “Could be anywhere, if it’s one of the Ministries’ it will be well defended. If it’s Awesome, then we’re really screwed.”

“Death trap,” Clean muttered. “Pray it ain’t.”

“If it is, how’re we plannin’ on gettin’ in?” Two Tone slowly lifted the cans of beans off the fire. “Ain’t no way we can fight our way in in our state.”

“We’ll find a way, still have a few tries on this thing,” I tapped the DC-pad in my pocket. “Worst comes, I’m sure Hole Punch will help.”

Two Tone snorted. “Namin’ a gun, ain’t that the strangest thing you’ve ever heard?”

I hid my smug smile as Clean’s blush turned to a glower. “Some folk just enjoy namin’ things”

“Seems unnecessary to Two Tone, swinger, just a gun,” the singer sniffed, taking a careful bite.

“Right, and the ten back up outfits were essential because…?” Clean rolled his hoof, waiting for an answer. “Yeah, thought so.”

“Ain’t Two Tone’s fault you didn’t learn lick ‘bout fashion, swinger. A performer has to look his best at all times, know what I’m sayin’? You’re there in the same clothes you’ve worn for years, lookin’ like any other two cap scaveng-argh,” Two’s gagging was drowned out by Clean’s growling and our laughter, slowly petering out.

“We still have the problem of finding the warehouse,” Domino began, watching the others tuck in to their food. “Hope seems a little… flat.”

“There isn’t much here beyond the Ironshod factory, so it’ll be blended with the surrounding buildings to hide it, or it’ll stick out like a sore horn,” I wiped my mouth clean and tapped a hoof against my chin. “Hmmm, keep an eye out for shops that don’t belong.”

“Real helpful,” Clean snorted. “Can’t tell what half these shops used to be, let alone whether they’re supposed to be here.”

“If only you had somepony from that time who could help in working all this out!” I flung my hooves to my face and collapsed in a heap on the floor. “Oh woe, woe upon this cruel world!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, put your caps where your mouth is, ghoul.”

“It’ll speed the whole process up,” Domino added. “I would say it’ll be a breeze, but with our luck...”

“Would be good to know what kind of shops are worth breakin’ into as well,” Clean admitted, quietly though.

“That and seein’ if a store’s a chain, or a real, one of kind find,” Two Tone beamed. “Good to get some exclusive materials, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Remind me what century you’re from again?” I shook my head, Two shrugged. “Either way, we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“I hope so,” Domino smiled. “No more goose chases.”

“Don’t say it,” she groaned as we looked the store. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Well,” I started, trying to fight the giggles. “At least we won’t be chasing a goose.”

Outside one of the most specific stores I had ever seen, we examined the bright yellow door. Daffodil’s Duck Depo boasted over one hundred unique varieties of rubber duck design, not including recolours. It stood out like a sore horn for a variety of reasons.

First, the paint had fared far better than the other doors on the street. While the other doors were chipped, cracked, and even non-existent, the Depo’s still held strong. Second, it still had windows. We discovered that the windows could self-repair after examining the lack of glass on the rest of the buildings, and when Clean launched a bin through them.

Finally, it was on the same street row as a load of coffee shops.

I groaned a little, knowing full well who had decided on the cover and the location. Pinkie did declare there was a method to her madness, and nine times out of ten she was proven right at the end, but it still made me wish for a slightly saner and more understandable mare to be in charge of a Ministry.

However, it did mean we had moved forward with our search. Having spent three days slowly working our way through the town, we had made very little head way in our hunt for Warehouse Delta. After the first day, we chose to hide the bulk of our possessions in what we elected to be our base of operations – dragging Carbon’s Triumph all day was a pointless venture in Hope. This find was the first breakthrough, and a great relief to all of us. The only thing standing in our way now, was a lock.

“It’s not something I can pick,” Domino hummed as she studied it with Two Tone. “It’s just a black panel, no buttons, no keys, nothing. I’ve never seen anything like this one before.”

“That, and Two Tone doesn’t have the skill to try it,” he said, replacing his shades. “Looks like we’re stuck here for the time being, swingers.”

“Maybe there’s another way inside,” I glanced at the surrounding stores. “Like a wall that has collapsed somewhere.”

“Shush,” Clean said, sharply.

“Swinger, if you have a bet-”

“Shush.”

Two Tone blinked and was about to retort when Domino put a hoof to his muzzle. We waited in silence, until I could pick it out as well – the rumble of a cart being pulled along, and two voices singing something together. We nodded and dashed for cover, me and Two hiding behind an old apple wagon while Clean and Domino ducked around a corner. The rattling increased until I could hear the voices clearly.

“… bring out your junk, we’ll give it a home
A broken pistol or a garden gnome,
Come on, come on, come on,
Come on an’ give it to us!”

A mare sang while another hummed a tune to match, both looking very casual about walking into town. They stopped and helped each other detach from the overloaded wagon, groaning as they stretched themselves out. The entire thing was filled with junk of all kinds, my mind spinning at the sheer volume of random odds and ends, from ancient teddy bears to broken toasters, piles of rags that could be clothes, and even a weapon or two buried in it all.

“Well, here now,” the larger of the two had a raspy voice, the sound of a long-time drug user at odds to her remarkable singing voice.

She jumped into the wagon and pulled out something I hesitate to describe as a sword. The blade was the same length as her, a quarter more for the grip, and had been made from the metal bumper of a Sky Bandit. On one side, a yellow smiley face had been crudely painted on the wider part of the blade.

She hefted it on to the back of her leather armour, white hooves and blonde mane almost blinding compared to the stained brown clothing. Her companion kicked a hoof, and I heard the soft whining build of a MEW charging up. She flicked her hood back, revealing a short, pale blue mane with a streak of white running through the middle. I slipped back behind the cover as she scanned the area.

“Think we’re being watched,” she said, loud enough to give us warning.

“Think we’re too late too,” the other growled. “There’s a trashcan in there.”

I slowly stood up and walked into the open, letting the wind flick my jacket open. I didn’t try to hide my holster as I squared off against the two mares. They slowly moved to stand opposite me, carefully eying me up. If this were a movie, this is when the music would stop.

“Afternoon,” I tried.

“Hey,” came the curt reply.

“Can I help you?”

“Depends, how hungry are you?”

“I’m a ghoul, we don’t really get hungry,” I replied, trying not to let the hesitation show. Honestly, I had no idea if that was true.

“That’s good to hear. You some sort of last guardian? Here to protect the secrets of Equestria?” the hooded mare stared me down.

“Not exactly, more an aficionado of rubber ducks and duck accessories.”

“So you decided to throw a trashcan through the middle of the shop? Tantrum at the lack of limited editions?” her larger companion grunted. “You’re full of shit.”

“Why are you here?” I fired back, shifting my weight a little. “What’s so important about that building?”

“Like you don’t know,” the sword mare matched my stance. “Run away, little ghoul, there’s nothing here for you.”

“I’d do what she says, you and your friends,” the hood flicked her eyes around. “I know the sound of unicorn magic, and I’m sure they know what this thing is capable of.”

“I’m sure we can talk this out without the need for fighting. No need to shoot the place up, right?” I looked over my shoulder and raised my voice. “Guys, slowly now. Just to talk.”

Domino moved first, striding towards me with an air of confidence. She flicked her ice mane out of her face, as if to establish herself as the alpha mare. Clean followed behind, holding himself proud despite the difficulty of the chair.

“Ain’t lookin’ to scrap over this, sure there’s enough in there for us to share. Sound fair?”

“Not a bad call, but what’s the chance we’re after the same thing?” the hood lifted her chin. “What are you here for?”

“Can’t we find that out after we get in, baby? Ain’t it easier if we’re all inside, know what I’m sayin’?” Two Tone appeared next to me, only to double take. I tried to follow his eyes, only to see the shock and rage building in the sword-carrying mare.

The same white coat. The same blonde mane. The same singing ability. Even a similar cocky stance to them. The air grew horribly, unbearably, silent as we watched the two ponies. I could feel the air being pulled taut, the presence of the two ponies almost overbearing.

“Oh,” Two Tone managed. “Shit.”

I barely managed to pull the stallion out of the way as the sword came down, both of us kissing dirt as it cracked the concrete. I shoved my pistol into my mouth and fired a warning shot, only to leap back and aim for an actual shot.

“Bastard!” the mare shrieked as we dissuaded her from giving chase, taking the opportunity to hide back behind our cover.

To the side, I heard Clean open fire as well, cursing as he missed and hit the glass again. Several ducks inside squeaked as they were perforated, the zap-whine of the hood’s MEW firing back to keep our heads down. I fired a few more shots to chase the sword mare away until my pistol clicked empty.

“Two, do you know her?” I ejected the magazine. “She looks like you, sings like you, but there’s no way. You’re not that old, right?”

I looked at him as he gave a sheepish grin. “Uh, early bloomer?”

There was a sudden thud, followed by an odd wobbling noise. Two Tone and I turned to look at the spear jutting out of our cover.

“Who the hell uses spears in a firefight?!” I shouted, trying to reload my pistol as quickly as I could.

I swung my head over to see where our foe was, only to find the mare running away with a wire between her teeth. I looked back at the spear, following the trail, and grabbed Two just before the wagon exploded. We skidded to another spot, Two’s shield catching most of the deadly splinters sent everywhere.

“WHO THE HELL ATTACHES GRENADES TO A SPEAR?!” he belted, wincing as a few shards poked through his suit. “You’re a mad pony, kid, and Two Tone ain’t likin’ it one bit!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!” she shouted back, coming back around with another spear. “And don’t call me kid!”

“Don’t take it too personally, Two, I’m sure you’re not the only absent father in the world,” I said as I threw my pistol in the air to him and met the mare in the open.

Compared to the sword and saw I had fought in close combat, the spear was far less dangerous. Most of the blows she dealt were to stun or guard than to kill, but that only showed how skilled she was. Despite their earlier attempts, the two weren’t overly keen on actually killing us rather than scaring us away.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working.

I span around another stab and brought a forehoof up to counter the reverse swing, jabbing my other hoof towards her face. She dropped and brought her own up in two snapping kicks, which I caught with my cuffs, following with another stab downwards. I heard the tearing of fabric and felt the sting of a new cut across my chest, bringing myself close and delivering a solid headbutt on her nose.

There was a slight crunch, and a grunt from the mare. I chased it with another two blows and a turning kick from a hindleg, only to be tripped up and having to roll to avoid the stabs at me. Two Tone’s shield came to the rescue, blocking the blows with quick twists and giving me a chance to slide away.

The shield came over both of us as her companion strafed us with shots, cloak completely gone. The battle saddle housed an impressive looking MEW rifle, red beams eating at the shield while an assault rifle kept us scooting for cover. Her black painted combat armour looked almost fresh off the line, the flanks adorned with a strange symbol not unlike Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark.

But that wasn’t what caught Two’s attention.

“A pegasus?” Two Tone blurted out for me. “What the hell is-”

He didn’t get to finish as the spear assault came back, catching him along the leg and staining his suit with a flood of red. The butt of the spear swung into his nose, matching the injury she had, and sent Two sprawling. I tackled into her, batting the spear out of her mouth and pinning her hooves down. Someone, somewhere, shouted something I couldn’t hear.

“Can we just talk for five seconds?!”

“Goddesses, your breath stinks,” she said as she headbutted me.

It wasn’t enough to do any real damage, but the jerky motion let her slip out of my grasp and start to squirm out. I went to pin again, only to have my side explode in pain. My body spasmed as I heard the crackle of electricity, feeling it tingle across my entire body. More blows thumped down on me until I felt hooves holding me down.

Somewhere Clean shouted, “Fuckers! Come at me!”

Something clicked around my neck, and I heard the distressed cries of the others fight against the shouts of the new arrivals. My eyes burned from tears and the damage done to my body, and I looked to the nearest figure I could see. The cutie mark was a ball and chain, and the owner had a gap-toothed evil grin.

“Nighty night, new blood,” he whispered, and brought the stun baton back on my head.

That could have gone better.

When I came to, night had fallen. I groaned at my sore neck, my hoof moving to massage the pain away. My eyes opened faster when I felt something metal fastened around it. I tapped all around it, unable to get a look beyond a dim red light just out of the corner of my eye.

“Rise and shine,” came a dry, female voice. “Glad you’re not completely dead, I get to bitch at you about the smell for a while longer.”

The sword mare, no longer in her armour, lay at the other end of the caged cart. She had a metal ring fastened around her neck, with a similar red light on one side, and looked completely bored. I was more taken aback by the number of scars that decorated her body, not all of them from combat. Her cutie mark sat proudly on her flanks: a single spear landing on the centre of an X.

“And no, I don’t know where we are,” she pre-emptively answered my first question. “Only that we’re being taken to Rusty’s place, wherever that is.”

“Rusty? Who’s that?”

“These pricks’ boss, maybe the head honcho for this area. I lose track of who’s who all the time,” she laughed humourlessly. “And now I’m gonna die or end up some fucko’s cocksleeve. All because of you pricks.”

“You attacked us first,” I started only to be cut off by a savage snarl. “Sorry, I don’t speak that.”

“Lay off him,” the other mare said, lying behind me. She lounged against the bars, with a tired look on her face. “It’s not worth the energy right now.”

The cage rattled as a passing slaver slammed into it, growling for us to stay quiet. Taking a moment to do as he said, I could hear Two Tone singing somewhere in the camp. I strained to see where it was coming from, and to find the others.

“Who does he think he is? Dancing and singing for the bastards,” sword mare muttered to herself.

“Probably trying to gather information,” I said, hoping to paint the singer in a good light. “Two Tone wouldn’t do this just for fun, he’s got a plan.”

She scoffed. “Two Tone, shitty name for a shitty stallion.”

I looked to her pegasus friend whose own eyes were directed skyward. As she gazed at the clouds, I found the answer to an unasked question. Her wings were ragged, misshapen from some sort of defect rather than damage, muscles atrophied and nearly limp compared to those I could remember. Those wings had never taken flight. They shifted a little, showing the Bit sign for a cutie mark.

“Yes, wings, amazing,” she brought me back to the world. “You know what else has wings? Bloodwings, and I’ll fuck you up the same way they do if you keep staring.”

“Sorry, just haven’t seen a pegasus in a long time,” I mumbled.

“Won’t be seeing at all in a minute.”

The other mare gave a hoarse laugh. “And you were telling me to lay off?”

“She’s got you there.”

“Shut up,” they chorused.

The night passed by with the sounds of Two Tone continuing his songs. A small amount of food was passed around for the others to eat while I kept my ears out for news and clues. We were in two different cages, on our way to some kind of big meeting for slavers hosted by this mysterious Rusty. Two ponies would rest inside the cage, while the third pulled for a day – perfect for draining us of enough energy so we couldn’t resist being put back inside.

That said, the collars stopped us short of trying anyway. The mares explained that they were bomb collars, wired to explode when we were out of a certain range or whenever somepony pressed the button. There was no way of safely removing them without tools, and our weapons had been stripped from the word go. We didn’t even have rags to cover us, something I had noticed since waking up in the wastes. I prayed that Carbon’s Triumph was still safe, the DC-pad, projector, and Rainbow Dash hidden away as well.

Else we were really stumped.

The days crept by as we left Hope and began a long trek to Appleloosa. Two Tone’s shows had yielded some information, though it was patchy at best. Worst of all, it seemed like somepony had tipped the slavers that we were at Hope.

Ponies had enough common sense to steer clear of the wagons, though I saw a few peeking at us from hidey holes. None were brave or foolish enough to approach us, to attempt a rescue. The bitterness seeped its way in, but I understood why they wouldn’t risk life and limb for ponies they didn’t know.

It soon gave way to despair on the fourth night of marching. Hope was long gone, in both senses. I rested against the bars of the cage, staring out into the darkness, trying to ignore the pained whimpers of Clean as he turned the wrong way in his sleep. For what it was worth, the slavers had allowed him to keep the wheelchair. The mares seemed amazed that he was kept alive, making my spine tingle: they knew who we were.

My eyes settled in the gloom, taking in just enough light to see shapes and suggestions, when they spotted movement. I sat up, looking at the shapes as they cautiously approached, “Psst, hey!”

The shapes paused, and two ponies skulked their way to the cages. A mare and a stallion emerged from the gloom, looking beaten, bloodied and half starved. I could see the desperation in their eyes and felt the creeping horror of what was going to happen next.

“Hello?” the stallion replied, voice low.

“Get back!” I hissed, pushing my head between the bars. “Go, now! Get help!”

Then I remembered that I was a walking, talking corpse who just appeared out of nowhere in the dark.

Her scream covered his swear and woke the entire camp: slavers milled to the cages, firing shots to keep them penned in. The mare attempted to run but was tackled and mercilessly beaten by three of the vile ponies, while the stallion stood his ground, shouting for her to run away. I turned my head as he came under the barrage of metal implements, my cage-mates taking no interest in the fight.

“Haha! Lookit, we’ve got some wasteland newbies,” a toothless unicorn exclaimed, hauling the mare up.

I could now see that the blue jumpsuit she wore, the number 37 stencilled in yellow writing on the back, as well the blocky shape of a PipBuck on her leg. The stallion wore the same, though his suit now featured blood stains from a gash on his head. The two were forced on the floor together, the collars snapping shut around their necks.

“Well well, ain’t this just our luck?” an earth pony mare stalked the two. “From the looks of it, you two are fresh out, ain’t you? Oh Rusty’s gonna eat you two up.”

The stallion joined Clean, Domino and Two Tone’s cage, eyes white and unresponsive to the shouts of the mare. She skidded away from me as she was forced aboard, the pegasus giving her a wary look before moving over for space. The stablemare tried to struggle at her collar, eyes full of fear in place of determination.

“Don’t,” the sword mare said sternly. “Mess with it, and it’ll take your head off.”

“No, no no no no no no,” the stablemare said over and over again, eyes darting. “Cog! Cog, wake up!”

“He’s out, baby,” Two Tone replied, his voice smooth as silk. “Calm down now, panickin’ ain’t helpin’ nopony, know what I’m sayin’?”

The sword mare muttered something about ‘baby’ and snorted, but Two’s words helped the stablemare get her breathing back in order. She still looked scared witless however, eyes darting everywhere around me as if she was mostly scared of just acknowledging my existence.

“Don’t mind him now, he’s real friendly, ain’t you swinger?” Two encouraged, jumping as a slaver shouted for quiet.

I nodded and gave her a toothy smile. In return, I got another mewl of fear and settled for staying as far away from the mare as possible. With the excitement over, the slavers started to settle back down, the others falling asleep as well. I turned my attention to the endless sea of clouds and sighed.

What would the stars say if they saw this?

The following morning began the ordeal once more. I took position to pull the cage and put all my energy into the simple act of putting one hoof in front of another. It gave Two and Domino time to talk to the new arrivals.

Even after the night, the stallion still hadn’t woken. Two assured the slavers that he hadn’t died, but if they wanted to actually use him they’d need medical supplies. The laughter at his request told us how much they cared.

As the days rolled by, Two Tone managed to squeeze names out of the mare: Turing Tide and Brass Cog. The two stable dwellers had just fled Stable 37, somewhere in the Appleloosian desert. The Steel Rangers came knocking just a week or two before and barely a hoofful of survivors got away. The pair ended up separated from the others after a raider attack and followed the light of the camp’s fire for safety. In their defence, I’m certain I’d do the exact same thing.

Soon, Appleloosa itself changed from a point on the horizon to our immediate vicinity. The old frontier town had changed a great deal since its inception years before I was born, especially with so many of Ironshod’s board hailing from there. Even then, it still wasn’t safe from the touch of balefire. Many of the buildings had collapsed from the stress, others lay obliterated from the detonations. Those that remained stood proudly against time, while rotting from the evil that lurked inside. I shuddered at the new decorations and hoped that the ponies whose remains now covered the walls died easily.

But more than the buildings, the numbers scared me. We were just eight of what seemed to be tens, maybe a hundred slaves, all locked inside pens of all shapes and sizes. Foals cried for their mothers, husbands called for wives, the newest arrivals still had the look of hope of rescue, while the long-term slaves looked beaten to the very soul.

We were placed in a corner, still separated by a few meters, amongst yet more slaves. Turning Tide and Brass Cog were led off elsewhere, while the two mares kept to themselves, remaining silent until the first night of arrival. I was stood sentinel, watching the sleeping and crying forms of my fellow ponies in iron, slowly mulling thoughts over until I heard light hoofsteps behind me.

“You do this every night?” the pegasus asked, joining me as I looked over the others. “Bit creepy.”

“Ghouls don’t need sleep, and I’ve got little else to look over.”

“She’s right though,” Domino mumbled sleepily from her cage. “It’s a bit creepy, Hard.”

“Thanks Dom, always count on you to have my back.”

“What are friends for?” she replied with a tired, but playful, smile on her face. “Didn’t catch your names.”

“You didn’t,” the pegasus rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure none of us want to stay here, so how about we help one another, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?”

“Break out.”

“That’s a result, not a plan,” Domino slowly got to her hooves. “No equipment, no idea where we are, and we’re outnumbered. Not to mention the new accessories.”

“So we’ll just sit tight until prince charming comes along?” the pegasus scoffed. “Let me guess, he’ll be tall, dark, handsome, dressed in the finest armour of all the wastes?”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag.”

If I could, I would have broken into a cold sweat at the voice. It had chased us across the wastelands once before, and now it found us in the worst possible situation. I saw Domino’s face fall and Clean slowly stir, his expression turning to anger as he saw our visitor. My head slowly turned as he removed his gas mask, a smile plastered his face as light from his horn casted shadows on ours.

“Look who we have here,” Septic Shock sighed. “Not in great shape, are we folks? If only I was a hero…”

“What are you doing here?”

“Spoilers, my dear joker,” he tutted, the smile becoming even crueller at the sight of Domino in a bomb collar. “Oh this is delicious. Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make sure to tell them to treat you properly. Wouldn’t want daddy to get all upset when he hears about how you’ve been enslaved thanks to your boyfriend. Let’s just hope for your sake that comes soon, I have a bad memory.”

“Fuck you,” Domino growled.

“Ah ah ah, careful now. The only reason the corpse and the cripple are still alive is because of my sweet talking. Wouldn’t want them to go the way of weasel now, would we?” he chuckled at the glares.

“The fuck’s a weasel?” the pegasus spat.

“Four-legged animal, known for wriggling its way out of things and going pop,” Septic replied. “Honestly, what are you taught in schools these days?”

“How to kill smug cunts like you,” she snarled back. “Let me out of this cage and we’ll see who goes pop.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You wouldn’t last two seconds,” I muttered, much to the pegasus’ shock. “Back down before you get us all killed.”

“Well, well, the zombie’s learned. Why don’t you tell them what I did to your one-eyed friend? That ought to wake flappy up a little,” Septic’s smile turned to a sneer. “That said, I’m pissed off I don’t get to kill you, ghoul. That little collar is a shield right now, but maybe that’ll disappear when I come back with a nice fat reward.”

“Trust me, I’ll be coming for you once it’s off too.”

“I look forward to it. Be a shame if somepony like you ended up dying here,” he licked his lips, eyes twitching. “I could do it, you know. I could kill everyone else here. So it’s just you and me.”

“Then do it,” Clean snarled from behind me. “Hurry up and get this shit over with, ain’t plannin’ on sittin’ here waitin’ for the end.”

Septic hesitated, then shook his head. “Ah, sorry, I have to let you suffer for a little longer. I know, I know, it’s such a bummer! But my hooves are tied.”

“Bullshit,” Domino spat. “Since when did the rules ever stop you? I know what you’re capable of, so why hold back now?”

“I have my reasons,” Septic crooned.

The pegasus snorted in dismissive mirth. “Your friend’s a real piece of work, ghoul. All talk and nothing to show for it, bet he doesn’t have the balls to fight a real pony.”

“Says the mare that fights a cripple?” Septic smiled as he pulled his mask on, his voice muffled by the rubber. “I’ve killed children that would put up a better fight than you, my little pony.”

“Monster,” the earth pony mare growled from her corner, finally taking her eyes off of Two Tone’s cowering form.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Septic hummed.

“You’re worse than that. Creatures like you are just born evil,” Domino snarled.

“Born evil? Oh no, my dear Domino, it took me many years to reach this point,” he chuckled, looking dreamily into the distance. “That said, I’m far from the worst thing the wastes have produced. No, I found that, then I killed it. Enjoy the rest of your days, I’m certain I will.”

He pivoted on his hooves and sauntered towards the waiting slaver guards, leaving our cages alone. Clean shook his head and groaned as the aches began to return, rubbing at his back. Domino gave him as much help as she dared, grumbling at her collar.

“Mouthy prick,” the pegasus mumbled, then glared at me. “What’s your history with him?”

I didn’t come up with an answer, ignoring the continued glare as I moved to the small corner of the cage and waited. In the cage beside me, a small bundle of foal was curled up and sobbing. I looked at the pitiful creature, reaching out to touch it before freezing.

I looked at the rotting limb and began to wonder whether it was the right thing to do. Could I still make children smile? Is there such a thing as a happy slave? I wondered if the foal had ever seen a life outside of bars and collars, and slowly retracted my hoof.

How do you make somepony like that happy?

The question consumed my thoughts as night became day, then night again. The mares’ bitterness towards us festered as more slaves arrived, now numbering nearly one hundred and twenty if the groans of passing slavers were anything to go by. Mornings began with a shock baton alarm, checking that we were all still alive, followed by poor attempts at taunting and offers of freedom in exchange for foul favours.

I noticed some of the others being dragged away, our cages remaining untouched. None of the slaves returned in the coming days, only more were taken. We tried not to think about what was happening to them, keeping our thoughts to ourselves. Even the foal was taken before we were selected, making me grimace at the thought.

Then our turn came.

We were herded out of the slaver camp, marching in file under the watchful eyes of ponies and even a few griffons. I felt little towards the half eagle, half lion creatures during the war, knowing their hunger for money overpowered their sense of loyalty to either side. Several stood at the reinforced battlements of the camp, sniper rifles on pivots to keep unwanted guests out. There was never any hope of escaping while we were inside, but now we had a chance.

Around twenty of us were marched out, a collection of different ages and genders, but almost all with the same defeated look. To one side, a rickety wooden outpost had been built with a giant antenna sitting atop it. I briefly considered what purpose it could serve, but soon all that played on my mind was whether we were about to be sold or simply used as sport. Neither was ideal.

They kept us in a tight group, looking over the dusty hills outside of the town. I licked my parched lips, wondering what we were looking at. I then realised there was something else about the hills – they were too sharp for them to be natural, too organised as well. It was almost a pattern, perfectly placed to give the illusion of a small cluster of hills.

Bunkers.

“Lissen up, hound-bait!” a slaver roared, sending the foals cowering. “The boss bird is here, so belt up and clean the shit from your ears!”

He stepped to one side and gave way to another figure. Tall, imposing, staring down at us like we lower than filth, the slaver’s boss flexed her wings and rattled her talons along the cracked ground. She smirked, as much as her knife-like beak allowed, and studied us carefully. I saw that one claw has been replaced with curved blades.

Rusty.

“Meat,” she relished the word. “That is all you are. Meat. You are shields, you are carrying equipment, you are scavengers, you are property, but above all else, you are meat. You have lost the right to call yourselves ponies, or any sort of creature. You are meat.

“However, even I can pity meat. In this world, there are things greater than a food source. Weapons, water, technology, money. Today, I bring you good news, meat. To some, this is old news, do not spoil it for the fresher cuts. Centuries ago, your fucking ancestors decided to perform experiments on who knows what beneath this earth. The same ancestors that turned this once beautiful land of peace into the shithole you call home.”

She chuckled and held a claw to her armoured chest. “I can’t thank them enough.”

“You will dive into these laboratories and bring me the fruits of their labour. You will do this in eight hours. If you disobey, think you can escape, or try to hide what is mine from me… well, there’s a reason it’s called a bomb collar. You will be working in groups of four, make sure you get along,” she spun on the spot and barked orders to her cronies, sending the group into a flurry of activity.

“Saves us the search for the labs,” I said, trying to lighten the mood half-heartedly. “Maybe we’ll make some progress.”

“This is insane,” Two Tone muttered. “Ain’t ever heard of a slaver op bein’ this organised, nor this big. She’s got one pair of lungs on her, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Reckon there’s somethin’ behind the scenes here, Septic wouldn’t just stroll up to any slaver’s hole,” Clean sucked in a breath. “He’s wantin’ somethin’, and I reckon he needs or wants us to find it.”

“But what?” Domino wondered out loud, biting her lip. “What’s so important about this place?”

“What isn’t?” Two kicked a rock to one side. “Lab that ain’t seen the sun for longer than the land? Bet there’s plenty of interestin’ things down there, swinger.”

“New blood, move it!” a slaver howled at us, his stun baton parting me and Clean from Domino and Two. “Don’t you think about arguing, else we’ll see how long it takes for this to start cooking ya from the inside out!”

We backed away towards a small group of fellow slaves. I caught Two Tone’s eye and gave him a sharp nod, Domino mouthed something to Clean. In their cluster, I saw Turning Tide and, now awake, Brass Cog. My attention returned to the approaching group, and I let out an audible groan as the sword mare was stood among them.

“You know,” Clean drawled. “Would seem like fate has a real hard-on for fuckin’ us, huh ghoul?”

“There was an ancient belief that a few ponies adopted during the war, from some faraway lands. They said it was called karma, a balance to the world. You need to do good deeds to have good done to you, while evil deeds are punished with misfortune,” I sighed at the thought. “You’d think the parties would have counted for something.”

Clean snorted his amusement. “Like that idea, sounds like goin’ all out on the drink and comin’ to later. Guess there’s somethin’ to it.”

“Yeah, only this karmic hangover is feeling a little unfair. I only drank the punch,” I groaned, biting back a yelp as a stun baton touched my side.

“Shut up, rotflank, or I’ll feed you your own teeth,” our chaperone grinned, solidly built but showing the signs of drug abuse. “Your team awaits.”

The first member was herded towards us. Naturally, it was our previous attacker. She looked less than pleased to see us as well.

“Oh fuck’s sake. First Rag’s dragged off, now I’m going to die with the cripple and the corpse? Just my damn luck,” the mare shook her head, only to glare as the slaver poked at her with a crackling baton. “Congrats, it’s a tamer version of my vibrator. You gonna do me a favour and go fuck yourself with it?”

I was impressed that she didn’t make a sound as it slammed into her face, but she remained silent as the slaver dragged her to me and Clean. I offered a hoof, only to have it ignored as she got to her own, spitting out a glob of blood. A snort of bloody snot followed as she rubbed her nose.

“Twice in one day, Luna dammit. Might start liking it eventually,” she muttered. “Keep staring and dreaming, death breath, this mare doesn’t fuck corpses.”

“Wouldn’t necessarily call you a mare,” I replied, looking at the crowd as the groups were herded away. “Mares are ponies, and you’re not much of a pony.”

“Are you all talk, or do you actually do something?”

“Think she likes you,” Clean smirked. “More fight in you than I thought there’d be.”

“Still more alive than the two of you put together,” she followed, falling quiet as the baton crackled again.

“Staying quiet keeps you alive,” the slaver grinned. “Should follow Mr. Smiley’s example, new blood, else I’ll give you something to really scream about.”

Moving towards us was a mountain of pony, easily twice my size. His crimson coat stood bold despite the numerous scars all over his body, orange mane with red flecks and tips was flicked out of his eyes. A few sores around his neck had scabbed over, rubbing against the metal of a far older bomb collar. His eyes were full of a deep, blue sadness, while his jaw was set in grim determination, matching the fire of the exploding dynamite cutie mark.

“Say hello, Smiley,” the slaver cackled. “Are you gonna ask their names again? Or have you finally learned?”

The vile creature walked away, still laughing as she rounded other slaves into groups. I offered a stiff hoof to the stallion, surprised at how readily he took it.

“You’re new,” he stated.

“Well, give or take a few decades, but yeah,” I replied. “I’m Hard, this is Clean and…”

“Go fuck yourself,” the mare spat.

“… and her. We were caught about a week or two back, yourself?”

“I can tell, you use the words of a free pony,” the stallion looked us all in the eye, I could see he had said this time and time again. “Long enough to forget, welcome to the herd.”

“Got a name?” Clean asked, looking uncomfortable after meeting his gaze.

“Warm. Warm Smiles.”

We marched across the arid ground, looking at the other groups lined up at various bunker entrances. Groups of four stood in front of the doors, some wearing masks of bravery while others didn’t disguise the terror they were feeling. Foals cried for their parents as strangers ignored them, a few good Samaritans trying to reassure them.

Doors popped open, the teams darting in. Some managed to all enter before the doors swung close again, others barely made it past the entrance before I heard gunfire or some sort of creature roaring. I shook my head in horror, trying to pretend it was something else lurking there.

“Goddesses,” the mare said under her breath.

“Fuck me,” Clean whispered. “Ghoul, what the fuck were you ponies doing here?”

I didn’t have an answer to give.

We passed a team of three children and one adult, hearing the sealed air escaping as it opened. The door swung open, and a roar came from the cavern. I span around on instinct to see fleshy tentacles burst from the opening and grab a screaming foal; the limbs, thick like roots of an ancient tree, made the little bones pop. Slavers shouted as they opened fire on the unseen horror, the other foals trying to flee as the adult was pushed into the door.

I convulsed as the baton slammed into my side again, touching on the burnt skin. “Stop staring, move faster else that’ll be you, meat.”

The gunfire continued, the door slamming shut as the screaming children were rounded up and taken away. I prayed it was to somewhere safer than where we were heading. We reached our designated door shortly after, a slaver with a battle saddle giving us a toothy smile. He kicked the assault rifles ready and began to tap at a terminal hooked to the door.

“So this is the stallion of the hour?”

Above the door, inspecting her talons, Rusty rested. “I thought Septic was mad to ask us to keep an eye out for a cripple and a ghoul. I thought ‘there’s no way a pony that injured would risk slaver territory’. You’re full of surprises, Clean Sweep.”

“You have somethin’ to say, say it,” said Clean.

“My mother told me not to talk with food, bad manners,” Rusty grinned. “I do hope you enjoy this stroll down memory lane with the ghoul, I’ve heard it can get pretty nasty in there.”

With a bark of laughter, she flew up and over our heads. I felt oddly passive about the whole conversation: the most talkative of all the ponies I had taken out tended to be the first to run when things went wrong. The same extended to griffons.

“This’ll be fun. Hey, cripple, heard you’re still alive ‘cause of some fancy money on that head of yours. Do me a favour, don’t get eaten in there,” the salver cackled, tapping a few more keys.

Clean ignored the taunt, a grim look appearing on his face. Once again, his life was bought through money. The door hissed as the pressure was released, my neck popping as I rolled in preparation. I looked to Warm, who was performing similar warm up stretches.

“Any survival tips for an old timer?” I asked, voice distant.

“Find a weapon.”

“Anything else?”

Warm gave me a look and cracked a small smile. “Then find a weapon you can actually use.”

“Piece of cake,” I muttered.

“Grab what you can, get out alive. Everything you find that’s useful to the boss is one step closer to freedom, maggots. If you come back empty hoofed, we throw you back in. If you take too long, will pop you. If you don’t come back, then congrats with your freedom,” the slaver wracked with laughter, hacking into a wet cough as the door swung open. “Go, go, go!”

I took a deep breath and dived inside. The bravado came to a choking halt as Warm pulled me back by the bomb collar, the familiar tat-tat-tat of a turret matching the sparks that kicked up on the metal floor. The slaver shouted for us to get back inside, but our fellow slave ignored his rambling, picking up a rock and launching it into the room. The turret tweeted a recalibrating jingle as it spun around to look for the tiny invader, firing another burst of rounds at nothing.

As the metal cavern was lit up with gunfire, I saw cover a few meters in. Warm threw another rock, and I chased after it as the turret hesitated what to shoot at. Fortunately, it chose the rock. Another burst went off, giving me enough light to see a fallen fire extinguisher. The turret made a sad beep as metal canister crumpled metal housing.

“Let’s go!” I shouted, guiding Clean, Warm and the mare through.

Somewhere, an alarm was screeching and other turrets, unseen, swivelled and clicked into action. The door slammed shut, and we were plunged into darkness for a few, terrifying seconds. I winced as Clean’s horn lit up, the unicorn looking grim.

“Where first?” he asked, looking to Warm.

“Look for an armoury or a research lab. Either one will help,” he looked up and down the corridor, and nodded a direction, taking the lead.

We started to follow, only for the mare to snort. “You’re following him? Pretty stupid.”

“He’s done this before, I trust him to get us through this alive,” I replied. “He’s the closest thing to an expert right now.”

“Yeah, if he’s so great at this, why’s he still a slave?” she pushed past me. “Fucking idiot.”

“Bitch,” Clean whispered as she moved out of earshot, following on as well. I did the same, pausing for a moment. The fire extinguisher would come in useful.

The corridors ebbed in a red light, my eyes adjusting to the gloom quickly while the others took more cautious steps. After I caught up to Warm, I started giving careful instructions on avoiding the bones of other ponies inside. I didn’t detail what I could see, mostly because I tried to pretend that I didn’t see it. Vents had been torn open, ancient blood rusted the edges, bullet casings littered the floor, even a few scorch marks from explosions loomed from the gloom.

Relief finally came when we found our first four way junction ten minutes later. A satchel lay at one corner, along with a carved arrow in the wall. We pulled it open, sighing at the familiar sight of a 10mm pistol. Clean took the weapon, grunting at the three shots remaining. The only other item was a holotape, but with no way to play it I kept it tucked out of the way.

We followed the arrow, Clean keeping close behind. We’d freeze every few moments, hearing the sounds of something skittering behind sealed doors, or somepony screaming. Warm had unfortunately informed us that the bunkers were all connected somehow, so the scream could be an echo through one of the vents, or somewhere around the corner. To go searching would be a death sentence.

“Was left alone on one run, others went to hunt for the source,” he murmured. “All dead.”

“If we’re divin’ inside to look for weapons, why’re there still slavers out there? Ain’t anypony tried usin’ ‘em?” Clean grumbled, asking the question we all wanted to.

“They tried, the moment they came out with them the collars went off. All the collars are hooked up to the antenna you saw on the way here, the slavers can see if they’re still active too. One of them gets opened, you can bet on those bastards will be waiting.”

The mare tsked, the news ruining her plan. She moved ahead with Clean, taking the extinguisher from me. I was glad to not be the one throwing themselves into danger any more.

“That said, I have a plan,” Warm whispered to me. “Think I have a way of getting out of here.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes out. “I’m listening.”

“We could die.”

“I’m listening.”

“And it’s not just us I want to break out,” I turned to meet a fierce flame in his eyes, almost taken aback by the passion. His intentions remained unspoken, but clearly communicated.

“Like I said, I’m listening.”

True to his name, he gave me a wide grin. “Knew you were a good pony, a servant of the herd. I’ve been a slave long enough to pick a few things up, like how to disarm the bomb in these collars without the slavers catching on.”

“I’m guessing there’s a but here,” I suggested.

“But, I don’t have the tools that can do it, and I don’t know explosions well enough to do it perfectly.”

I blinked and looked at his cutie mark to double check. He sighed at the motion and nodded sadly.

“I can craft an explosive out of Big Mac and Cheese and a wire, turn a tin can into a grenade, tell you how to flatten a building with a twig. But the opposite?” he shook his head. “Still, you in?”

“I’m in,” I didn’t even consider it for a second. “Make sure you let Clean in on it too. He’s good in a fight.”

The moment broke with a scream from ahead, too clear to be an echo. Clean started swearing at something as we raced ahead, hooves squealing as we stopped. Bone had pushed herself against the wall as something tried to grab at her. Clean had backed away as well, his magic wrapped around the fire extinguisher as he tried to keep it out of the creature’s grasp.

Trapped in a metal shutter, it had the vague shape of a pony without a coat. Pale skin was taunt against bone, while a vertical slit for a mouth split open to reveal a mess of tentacles, throbbing and writhing slowly as they tested the air for the meal that had just slipped past. Dried blood around the door informed me all I needed to know about the last group of slaves through our door, and I tried not to think about how there wasn’t enough room for a pony to pass through the gap whole to be devoured.

Bone looked at us from across the hallway, a look crossing her face as she seemed to weigh up a choice. She made a grim nod, spun around and ran away, hooves striking against the metal as we pushed back from the probing tentacles.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Clean shouted, slamming the nearest tendril with the butt of the extinguisher. “What now?”

“We go back, we won’t make it past here,” Warm said, keeping himself between us and the monster.

As he spoke, we heard a rattle from the far end of the hall. Around the corner came the mare again, galloping as fast as she could with something long and metallic in her mouth. I could only watch in wonder as she slid along the floor and swung the end of a metal floor lamp into the mouth of the monster. There was a crunched followed by an unsettlingly scream of pain as the lamp’s base was wedged into its head, the door holding it in place.

The mare gave us a smug grin and lead us onwards before the lamp could be dislodged, the monster still crying in agony as we rounded the corner. She was almost skipping ahead, the red light of the bomb collar shifting as she moved along.

“Ah, that’s much better,” she trilled, Clean meeting my eye and giving me a worried look.

The arrows continued to materialise as we walked, though no other bags appeared. We occasionally came across another turret, as well as another unfortunate slave who didn’t see it in time. The fire extinguisher had become battered and misshapen from the repeated abuse, but we were keen to keep using it over the pistol.

The last turret came down in a screech of metal. Clean began to dig through the pancaked remains, pulling out a few undamaged bullets and adding them to the bag.

“Any luck we’ll find somethin’ that can shoot them,” he said, half to himself to raise spirits. “Where now?”

“To the right,” the mare replied, looking down the hallway. “I can see a door.”

She slowly moved towards it, when we heard the rumble click of another turret. Just above the door, it slid out, almost as if it was in slow motion. I didn’t even realise I had moved until I used her as a springboard, throwing the extinguisher at the turret with a shout.

Tat-tat-tat and the canister gave, filling the space with white foam. My voice broke at the feeling of a bullet slamming into my flank, shoving the mare out of the way lest any other shots came at us. Something inside me clicked and I jumped backwards, fighting through the pain. The remains of the extinguisher flew into my hooves, one side perforated with three bullet holes, and I swung it up at the ceiling.

The subsequent bang and sad beep made my spirit sigh in relief and joy. Only one word echoed in my head: Awesome.

The door clicked and hissed open, leaving me lying on the floor with blood slowly dribbling out of my side. Clean, Warm and the mare pushed through the white foam, the red stallion sighing in relief as he saw me.

“Thought you were dead. Nice work,” he patted me on the shoulder and took point, Clean following after. I slowly pushed myself on to my hooves, the mare easing me up as well. I cast a wary look, to which she snickered.

“Like I’m gonna do something to a mad-pony like you. Scratch my back, I scratch yours. Thanks for the save,” she then studied the wound. “You’ll want to get that removed before you drink a healing potion, nothing’s worse than a bullet stuck inside a healed wound.”

“Thanks,” I frowned, limping through the door.

“Bone,” she added. “The name’s Bone.”

She pushed past me, checking the step at the door. “Why tell me now?”

“Gives you something to yell before all the heroics, ghoul,” she replied as the lights flicked on inside.

The door opened into room filled with cabinets, a single terminal on a desk sat at the head. Along a wall, rows and rows of dead screens sat, coils of cables trailing from the terminal. On the other side, which Warm was studying carefully, a massive map showing the spiderweb of connections for the other bunkers. A single pin was attached to one particular room, helpfully labelled “Medical storage office”.

Clean pottered around, examining the screens with a frown, while Bone began opening the various cabinets. I turned my attention to the terminal, pushing the skeleton of a unicorn out of the way. Another 10mm pistol sat at the desk, while a card sat on the other side. I carefully examined the plastic, balking at the symbol on the other side.

“Guys,” I called out. “Think I’ve found something.”

The others looked over as I held up the Ministry of Awesome card, feeling a deep unease. Bone shrugged, Warm grunted and returned to the map, and Clean whistled. His wheelchair rattled as he approached, the effort clear on his pained face. I moved to meet him.

“Think it’s what’s her name?” he whispered, I nodded. “Righ’. Check that holotape, see what she knows. Maybe she can get us an out.”

“Clean,” Warm shouted across the room. “Think I’ve found an armoury, and a medbay too.”

“Perfect,” the unicorn shifted over, taking the pistol with him and leaving me to return to the terminal. I wiped the dust away, and popped the tape slot open, tapping to load up whatever was on it. Lines of code and technical jargon washed across the screen. Bone approached and watched the stream.

“Never understood terminals, that’s Rag’s department,” she muttered. “Found some tweezers and bandages, can get that leg looked at.”

I nodded my consent and lay down with a grunt as she got to work. Her change in tone was jarring, but not unwelcome. At least I had a name to call her now. With a little working, the bullet was pulled free and my leg was wrapped in bandages, the magic already healing the hole left behind. I was about to nod my thanks when I saw the slow motions of chewing, catching her eyes as the pupils shrank to pinpricks.

“Bone, what did you just take?” I asked cautiously. She smiled and tapped her nose, winking. I caught the scent of mint.

“Got us a path,” Clean said as he approached, Warm in tow. “We’ll use this place as a base, then head out to gather weapons and medical supplies. Can start thinking about what to do afterwards.”

We gave our approval, and the terminal chimed. I got to my hooves and saw that a single selection had appeared. The holotape whirred as I clicked play.

“This is Agent Battenberg of the Ministry of Awesome Recovery Team. If you’re hearing this, then I have failed my mission to secure the Combined Development labs. I thank you for completing my task and commend you for your sacrifice.”

“The fuck did she just say?” Bone hissed at me, a wash of cold running down my spine.

Battenberg continued without pause, no emotion from her voice. “The experiments here were meant to turn the tide of the war in the direst of circumstances. While most were benign, others involved… less savoury ideas. Unfortunate choices had to be made, and they were hard choices. This is Equestria’s shame, the projects that could never appear on paper but were necessary for us to win the war. It was my team’s duty to secure these labs and destroy what experiments remained, though only I have made it this far. However, it seems that I was unable to finish my task. In this event, I have loaded a script onto this tape that will fully activate the security systems inside the facility. Unfortunately, whoever you are, I cannot allow you to leave.”

The door slammed shut, while somewhere outside, I could hear panels sliding open, and the sounds of things waking from a long slumber. One by one, the screens flicked on, each showing a feed from across the laboratories. Some had helpful notes of what room we were looking at, while others simply had an ammo counter. Those ones span suddenly and I could see the shocked expressions of slaves stare up at whatever had just dropped from the ceiling. Brass Cog was among them.

I looked to the others, each wearing a different expression. Clean’s was of concern, Bone’s anger, while Warm appeared almost passive. I looked down at the skeleton and hoped she died a slow, horrible death to do this to others.

“If word got out about what has transpired here, then it would only bring shame to the Princesses. That cannot happen. Equestria thanks you for your service, and I personally wish to extend an apology for your unfortunate fate. Rest assured, the robots will make it as painless as possible. None of the staff here suffered in the first purge. Long live Celestia, long live Luna, long live Equestria!”

The tape stopped, and through the metal corridors we heard the screams starting – some equine, others certainly not. Screens showed ponies fleeing rooms and corridors as multilimbed robots floated into sight, buzz saws whirring and flame throwers cooking the air. On one screen, I could see the remains of a stallion being pulled apart by some strange dog-like creatures, while another pony was slowly being covered by a mass of tentacles. I could hear my ragged breathing, feel the throbbing pain in my side and my beating heart slamming in my chest. Clean summed it up perfectly.

“Fuck this place.”

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