“Have to ask, did your cutie mark have something to do with causing disaster, or is it just part of the shit luck in being a ghoul?”

I glared at Bone as she smirked, picking another cabinet and looking through the contents. I slowly stood up as she found a familiar tin, popping it open and taking one of the small tablets out, placing the rest in a pack she had procured from somewhere in the room. Clean and Warm discussed battle plans on the other side, looking at the map and working out where we should storm first with our two pistols and seven bullets.

Clean looked especially bitter, though it was hard to tell if it was just his normal expression at the distance. I had elected to remove myself from the terminal and swear off them for the rest of my days, hiding myself in the corner until I felt better. There was no way I could have known, but I still felt guilt for indirectly causing the deaths of so many slaves.

Ponies, I corrected myself.

“What’s wrong with him?” Bone asked, rolling a Mint-Al along her tongue and gesturing to Clean.

“Tartarus below, you can’t tell?” I grumbled and slowly stood up, still feeling the sting of the bullet wound as it slowly healed.

“No shit, we’re trapped here with who knows what out there, no food, no water, and his back’s fucked. Injury or born that way?” she continued, nosing through the other cabinets and oohing at the contents.

“Shot to the back, rushed surgery, then a lead pipe finished the job,” I closed the door on her, glaring as she casually reopened it. “Mind staying sober for five minutes?”

“Fuck me, were you always this much of a party pooper?”

“No, but I’m certain that the amount you’ve taken so far is enough to kill me.”

“Pfft, mare up,” Bone began to sniff at the long-dried materials in the test tubes, gagging a little. “You stallions are always so dramatic and over the top in everything you do. You fuck ‘em once and then they want to save you from the wastes. You take a few pick-me-ups for the shakes, they call you an addict.”

“I know an addict when I see one, you have that look in your eye.”

Bone paused and examined me carefully. “You know what, I believe you, but while you got to repair yourself I’m stuck in this rut forever.”

“Sob story? You’re above that, Bone,” I replied, snark mode fully engaged.

“Yeah, I love it too much to give it up,” she smirked, turning back to the cupboards. “Though, for what it’s worth, zombie, your friend’s situation isn’t permanent. I can fix him.”

She blinked as I spun her around. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve tasted every fine substance in the wastes, and there’s one thing that can repair a pony like that. I know what it is, how to use it safely, and I reckon I’m a good enough doctor to fix the rest of your pals up too,” she smirked, eyes twitching as the drugs took effect. “In fact, right now, I guarantee I’m more than good enough.”

“How? Where? What do you want?”

“Music to my ears,” she sang as she pushed me away. “First off, you promise to help me and Rag break out of here. I heard you whispering to the mountain over there, ‘bout getting yourself out. I want in on the break.”

“Done,” I didn’t even hesitate. She was, unintentionally, going to be released as well either way.

“Second, I get to hold one favour on you. What I ask you to do, it gets done. When I say go, it happens or you die trying.”

“How is that anything different to slavery?” I couldn’t hide the smile from the irony of it.

“’Cause it’s one thing only, and I ain’t that cruel. Plus, you can always just run away before I get the chance to ask you.”

“Good thing I’m a fast runner,” I half-joked.

She replied with a wicked smile, like that of a housecat with a mouse. “Reckon I’m faster. Given what it is, we might find it here. We’re looking for something called Hydra.”

I nearly tripped over my own hooves at the word. “Are you insane?”

“Yes?” Bone cocked her head. “Oh! No, not a hydra. It’s the name I know it by, an experimental drug made by some madponies, apparently based on a formula made by the Ministry Mare’s top medical scientists. Only seen some shithead raider’s attempts and they work fine, so the real thing’ll be perfect. It’ll fix your friend, no question.”

“My question stands.”

“So does the answer. It’s the ultimate in healing medicine. Repairs a pony at the basest of levels. Even heard it can regrow a limb, make you like new if needs be,” Bone spoke with an almost wistful air, sighing afterwards. “Imagine how that would feel.”

“Try some Fixer to help with feeling like new, it does wonders,” I said, perhaps a little too bitterly. “If we can find this wonder drug, the deal’s on. Until then, no promises made or kept, got it?”

“Fine by me, zombie,” she offered a hoof.

I met it with my own. “Hard, Hard Copy.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something,” Bone smirked.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Ghoul, over here,” Clean stood with Warm by the screens, watching the bloodshed unfold. “We’ve got a plan.”

“How much of a plan?” Bone asked, joining us.

“More than we did earlier,” Warm answered, tapping at a screen. “This room here looks like the security room, and it’s currently empty.”

“And how is that going to help?” Bone sneered. “Hoping a friendly pony will be there to take us home?”

“A shut off,” I cut across Warm, who simply nodded. “It’s where I would put it.”

“Failin’ that, weapons, gear, somethin’ to help. Think we know where it is on the map, ain’t too far from here,” Clean wheeled over to the other side, pointing at the room in question. “Follow this corridor, two lefts, and it’s one of these doors.”

“In a place filled with murderous robots, experiments gone wrong, and who knows what,” Bone added, quietly but not quiet enough.

“If you have any smarter ideas, I’m all for hearin’ them,” Clean growled. “I ain’t too keen on spendin’ the rest of my time inside this here room.”

Bone glared at Clean and moved to meet the challenge. “Ok, squeaky, how the hell will we make it there? Two pistols between four ponies, and I’m counting fuck all else.”

“Improvise,” Warm cut between the two, deflecting the rising anger between them. “We won’t have to worry about an experiment gone wrong, not with those things around.”

He pointed to a floating sphere, metal appendages hanging next to the small jet that kept it suspended. Three stalks held three eyes that examined the corridor it patrolled, while the limbs kept a buzzsaw and a small pistol off the ground. Another had a lit pilot light, cutting through the darkness and revealing the corpse of a fellow slave. I hoped he was set alight after he was shot.

“No, no, that’ll just kill us instead,” Bone tapped the screens. “So will that one, that one, that one… is that a brain?”

“Didn’t say it wouldn’t be dangerous,” Clean spoke, his drawl serious. “Just our best chance. Not like we were gonna get through this without a scrape.”

“We’re off to a bad start though, Clean,” I kept my opinion quiet, letting the others ignore me.

“Holy shit,” Bone snapped us to attention as she stared at a screen. “The fuck are those things?”

I joined Clean and Warm in studying the creatures that lurked outside our door. Something had chased them our way, another wriggling out of the air vent just out of camera shot. They had the shape of dogs, the paws out of proportion compared to the gangly limbs and a short tail that flickered side to side. A reptilian tongue slid out, tasting the air and moving back into the salivating mouth.

“Somethin’ else to get through,” Clean said firmly. “Grab what you can, maybe a chair or two.”

Bone readied her satchel, grabbing another two hooffuls of various drugs and examining an old IV stand. Clean checked his pistols and nodding in short satisfaction, readying one and tucking the other away for safe keeping. It was strange seeing him without the stocks of his shotguns sticking over his head.

I shuffled the satchel over and stretched out, knowing that the only weapons I had left were my hooves. Warm remained unarmed as well, only wearing his collar and wraps for his hooves, and had begun similar stretches. I caught his eye, and saw a similar expression of confusion, when Bone whistled for our attention.

“You two ready?” she hollered, a painted-white chair by her side in preparation. As if they heard her, the door began to bang slightly, hissing coming from outside.

“I miss those shotguns,” Clean grumbled, his horn flicking the door open.

One of the creatures jumped, squealing as Bone’s chair sent it flying down the corridor with a wet thwack. Another took another chair to the back, hissing as Clean beat it over and over until it mewled in agony, looking up with a ruined back. The unicorn gave a disgusted look as he crushed its skull.

The third hung back, growling and rattling its tail at us. With yellowed eyes and slit irises, it opened its mouth revealing fangs glistening in what I hoped was spittle. I readied for a fight when Warm slid across the room and kicked it into the air. Like he was juggling a ball with his hooves, he skilfully batted the creature around before bucking it into a near wall. It barely had time to squeak as it slammed against the metal, gurgling as its pulped innards came to a standstill.

Warm nodded once and led the way out, giving a shout as he stamped another squealing creature to death. We rushed out the room, returning to the metal tomb of a corridor. Clean hobbled after Warm, his horn illuminating the murk, with Bone close behind. I held the rear guard, feeling naked without any armour or weapons.

True to Clean’s word, it was a short journey. We raced as fast as we could down the corridor, stopping at the junctions so we weren’t blindsided by some other creature or robot. So far, we had remained lucky, but knowing us that luck was about to run out very shortly. The second left came and a locked door loomed twenty meters ahead, two more flanking each side. Friendly yellow writing informed us it was the security room, as did a hovering robot wearing a police pony’s helmet.

Looking like a metallic, flying octopus, it hung in the air with an eerie roar from a small jet forcing it afloat. Three tentacle like appendages hung slack, each ending in a gruesome weapon, coming to life as bulbous eyes swivelled to catch up to whatever the sensors had detected. Namely, four horribly under-equipped ponies who were in various states of injury.

There went the luck.

“Ah! Foul zebra sympathisers, come to steal more treasures from Equestria have you? Have at thee!” the Mister Handy cried, its Trottingham accent throwing me off for a moment.

“Wait!” I cried, pushing my way to the front. To my surprise, it did pause.

“Last words?” I could hear the imaginary eyebrow being raised.

“Hard Copy, Agent of the Ministry of Morale, Team Frosting. These ponies are with me and we need your help,” I panted, hoping that at least one of those words would trigger something inside the robot’s programming. “Agent Battenberg sent us!”

It studied me carefully, the stalk-held eyes shifting up and down. “No, sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. Avast!”

“Figures.”

I bounced back from the whirring saw, getting a worrying sense of déjà vu as it narrowly missed my neck, almost nicking the collar. Clean fired a shot and cursed as sparks flew off the armour plating, barely denting the metal. He fired another shot to cover Bone’s charge, the IV stand only serving to push the machine back a few steps and making it chuckle. I charged back into the fray and gave my best flying kick yet. The robot bounced off a nearby wall, which the saw chewed into before snagging.

“Your attempts to kill me only prove your guilt!” it cried, struggling to free itself. “Now hold still while I get free.”

It surprised me how fast Warm moved, barely feeling him leap past me until the air caught up. It surprised me when he managed to kick the robot hard enough to tear the trapped limb off. But, what surprised me most, was when it cried out in pain.

“Arg! ‘tis but a flesh wound!” it readied the flamethrower arm, only for Clean to land a perfect shot. The backwash singed what remained of my hair, and the metal turned black with soot. The robot gave another scream, lances of red firing wildly as it tried to find us.

Warm bounced off the floor, and my jaw dropped. Like one of the valiant heroines from those trashy martial art movies, he sailed through the air unharmed but roughed up. He spun his body in a tight arc, bringing a rear hoof down in a solid stomp on the robot’s eye-stalk and folded the metal in on itself. They both crashed to the floor, Warm delivering another two quick jabs and wrenching the dented metal plate off to expose the whirring innards.

“You bastard!” the robot’s anger came through despite the synthesised tone, only to stop as the IV stand was rammed inside it. Bone cheered as the battered machine crashed to the floor, sadly beeping as it shut down.

“Gotcha!” she grinned, retrieving her makeshift spear. “Everyone else still in one piece?”

There were several grunts of acknowledgement from Clean and Warm, though I remained locked in silence trying to wrap my head around what I just saw. The hiss-snap of the security door woke me up, but I was still in awe of the sheer strength I had just seen. The others had already been inside for a few minutes, leaving me with the metal corpse.

“What just happened?”

“Pick your jaw up and move it, zombie,” Clean replied from inside.

The security room was nothing special. Bone had already squeezed herself into armoured barding and was examining the few melee weapons that lay around. Warm had moved the bones of an unknown number of ponies to a corner, a trail of dust showing the seats they once sat at. Behind a bank of terminals, Clean was staring and frowning, his magic wrapped in a trashed microphone. He looked at me and sighed.

“Ghoul, I’m about to say somethin’ stupid, but you’re the best shot.”

“Does it involve this terminal?” I gestured, feeling a slight unease.

“Yes.”

“Is this terminal connected to anything?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you want me to do this?”

Clean’s yes was covered by Bone’s no, the stallion frowning at her. “I don’t know a damn thing about ‘em, ain’t my area of expertise. Reckon it’s the same for the others, so ain’t askin’ them on it.”

I sighed and nodded, self-esteem at an all time low. “Sure, what do you want me to do?”

“I’m thinkin’ we can get this here microphone fixed up and start searchin’ for Dom and Two,” he trotted past me, wheels straining from the fight. “See what you can find on that terminal. Try not to drop another load of bots on us.”

I bit back a snarky remark, and took a seat behind the screen, tapping through the options available. Apparently, karma was being rebalanced, as the unlocked terminal had several security options relating to turrets and robots. I tried not to think about the yellowed humerus that lay beneath the chair and preferred the invention of some lesser god that had unlocked the terminal for me.

“Clean, think I can do something about the bots from here,” I called to him. Three different variations of “don’t touch it” came back.

I gave one an experimental tap just to see what could be done from here, disheartened as a request for a password winked up. I backed out of the option and started to search through the ancient logs for something useful instead. Most were old logs about the various comings and goings of the security, but a few delved in the opinions on the scientists working there. It didn’t take long for me to get side tracked.

Action Report – Incident #1142 – Sergeant Morning Star

Eggheads have screwed up, again. This new creation they’re brewing, only known to us as “IMP” has caused far too many issues. For something that’s supposed to turn the tide of the war, it’s doing far too much damage to us. One drop too many, and it turned that poor filly’s rabbit into a rabid monster that’s just hospitalised two of my ponies and killed another. It was supposed to turn it green. Now I have to write a letter of consolation to Jumping Jack’s parents and wife, fantastic.

I’ve voiced my complaints to the head honcho, Gestalt or Mosaic (whatever she decides her name is on a given day) and was told that we have to suck it up. “It’s a direct order from the Ministry Mare herself, until the new offices in Maripony are finished.” The hell does that mean? When will they be finished? Why does the research need to be moved there?! If it’s that dangerous, it should be nowhere near civilisation! In the meantime, I’ve refused to allow continued practical experimentation here. One of the few rights I have, and by Celestia I will not have more ponies die for this.

On that note, had another complaint that yet another chimera has gotten loose from containment. Bit stupid breeding them to have the power to melt through metal, train them from birth to chew through the armour of a tank, and then store them in a cage. What did you expect to happen?

“You alright?”

I glanced up to see Warm looking over me. I nodded and returned to tapping idly on the terminal, hoping to get somewhere. I tapped out and moved towards the communications tab. He knocked the screen twice, bringing my attention back to him.

“Where did you learn that?” he frowned at me.

“Learn what?”

“That kick. It looked like you were copying a comic or something: the run up, the jump, the screaming.”

If I could blush, I would have turned a brighter red than my old mane. “Uh, I read it in a book. A real book, that is.”

“Yeah, no wonder, it was awful,” he smiled. “A good attempt though.”

I scoffed to hide the embarrassment. “How would you know?”

“Because I learned that one years ago,” Warm gave me a knowing look. “From a real master, not a picture.”

“A real master? You don’t mean…?” I hesitated, head marching through the implications.

Warm nodded, opening up a new line of questioning. Of course, there were zebras in Equestria: it was Morale’s job to monitor and protect them after they fled their homeland. The knowledge they brought was vital for the war effort and helped further our cause in the pursuit of peace – so we told them.

“But how?” was all I could muster. “Who? Why?”

“No idea how, just know they did. Small tribe hidden away in the world. Helped an injured foal, her parents were keen to thank me. I was in chains with them for a few years, building up skills and picking up what I could,” he smirked. “And yes, you can call me sensei.”

“Is that the right term?” I frowned, trying to remember the word. “It doesn’t sound right.”

“You’re not calling me teacher. Or sir,” Warm motioned for me to follow, having copped on that my tapping was doing nothing useful. “You’ve got the moves down, but you’re lacking the basics. Get those stamped in, you’ll be kicking through robots in no time.”

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re twice the bulk of me,” I gestured my rotting remains. “You’re going to hit far harder than me.”

“That’s because I had to compensate,” Warm replied. “I’m not quick enough for the real moves, so I put everything into each hit. I think you’ll do fine though, you’re light on your hooves.”

“Ok,” my voice didn’t hide the scepticism, but I followed Warm to the door.

“Trust me, you’ll do fine. We won’t have long, but this will put you on the right track.”

I shook my head, trying to wrap it around the whole situation. “Right. So what happens now, you teach me some cleaning techniques and I’ll become a master?”

Warm blinked at me, looking rather confused. “No, we do it the way I learned how. Clean.”

The unicorn grunted an acknowledgement, trying to dig into the sealed lockers. The microphone looked almost serviceable already.

“Me and Hard are going out, we’ll check the other rooms and see if we can find something useful. Will you and Miss Go Fuck Yourself be alright?”

Another grunt.

Warm shrugged and led me out of the room, moving over to one of the rooms we had passed on the rush to get there. He grabbed a few intact metal plates from the robot as we passed, balancing them on his back with perfect precision. All he was missing was a team’s worth of coffee orders and he’d be the perfect ministry agent.

I shook the thought away and entered the room with him, the door sealing shut behind us. “So, what do I need to do?”

“First step is to teach you some of the basics and we’ll go from there. Your hoofwork is a mess and you’re combing too many styles, think it’ll be easier if we streamlined what you know and work on that first,” Warm explained, my eyes glazing over.

“Sorry, combining styles? Messy hoofwork? I don’t get it, I was just following the pictures and instructions.”

Warm blinked and whistled. “That book you read must have left a whooole lot out.”

Iron Hoof wasn’t known for its accuracy, I thought, trying not to vocalise the complaint. “What first then?”

“First part is easy, I teach you the basics through hooves-on teaching.”

“And what’s your coaching technique?” I asked, feeling a little nervous at the mischievous twinkle in Warm’s eye.

Warm dipped low in a stance I had only ever seen illustrated, his namesake expression turning a little cruel. “I beat the shit out of you until you get good.”

Unlike the movies, there is no fast forward through the power up montage. What occurs over weeks and years of hard consistent training is condensed into minutes of awesome with a kickass soundtrack, inter-cut with shots of the wised master nodding as progress is made. Maybe there’s a slow lull in the song where the hero falters, but then he gets back up and keeps going stronger than ever until he pulls through at the end.

Real life has no such luxury. It does, however, come with a great deal more pain and bruises. For the next two hours, Warm drilled correct hoof-placement, balancing skills and basic combat techniques that no book could have ever conveyed via the gentle art of kicking my teeth in. Time wasn’t on our side, so it was a quick and dirty job to get me battle ready enough for the dumber things we’d be fighting inside the lab. No sense in practicing a flawless hoof-lock to leg break when you’re kicking metal monsters.

It didn’t occur to me just how ridiculous this whole thing was. Here we were, death lurking around every corner, duking it out because he saw me attempt something from a comic book. It couldn’t come at a worse time, yet there was no better time to get it done. The opportunity to be tutored by a master of the art on top of it being an applicable skill in the immediate future.

Canterlot University eat your heart out. I’ll take the School of Extremely Hard Knocks any day.

During the breaks in the training, and what sparring we could handle, Warm explained more about the history of zebra of martial arts. Or, to be more accurate, what he could remember. Everypony from the war had heard of the most feared style, Fallen Caesar, and how one or two zebras could cut swathes into our troops. This had been scrutinised and examined a billion times over the war, to the point where the Equestrian Army had developed a counter to it based on one particular example: Doombunny.

What surprised me was Warm’s assertion that this was just one of the most effective styles for one on one combat. While Fallen Caesar saw the most use because it was ideal for a final struggle to the death, it was made to work as part of a sequence of other styles that blended together. Initially, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea: surely we’d have seen somepony use another style?

Warm countered with if I could tell if there was particular twist to their hoof or not when somepony kicks me in the face.

“Zebras came from a world of unending combat, every day was a fight for survival,” he explained during our scavenging downtime between fights. “You fought alongside the herd or they all died.”

“So that’s where the different styles came from?” I asked, pocketing a lucky few bullets.

“If you want to ignore all the sacrifice and meaning behind them, sure,” Warm scoffed. “Every style has its own history, its own story. Fallen Caesar, for example, supposedly came from a zebra warlord who once rose up against the tyrant that ruled their land. The new Caesar then taught it to his closest guards and allies so they may kill him in honourable combat should he become a tyrant as well. They then taught the new Caesar and on it went.”

The memories of how the zebras feared Princess Luna came to mind, perhaps they were trying to save us from a tyrant of the night in their minds. “Huh, makes sense. What about the other styles then? What are they for?”

“Depends where you stand in the herd. Are you the defender of the children, sworn to give your life before anything would happen to them? Then you take on Testudo, one that is mostly counters. Are you the scout, seeking out the dangers in the land and only using your attacks to help you get away? Then you learn Venator,” Warm continued on, pausing only to examine a new find or to bash a lock into submission.

Eventually, I asked the burning question. “Then which do I learn?”

“What is your role in the herd?” he replied, focused on a chest of drawers. “What do you bring to the table?”

I started but found the words were caught in my throat. Maybe I was overthinking the question, but I couldn’t help it. What did I do for Clean, Domino and Two? What did I bring? How do I make myself useful for them?

I felt something tug at my heartstrings as I reached for my business cards, still back in Hope. A reminder of who I once was, and now something I couldn’t keep hiding behind.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said, heart heavy. “Not yet at least.”

“Well, choose soon. Don’t know how much longer we’ll be alive for,” he turned from his work and gave my shoulder a firm pat. “And we have work to do.”

Something above us screeched, making both of us flinch and stare up at a trail of dust falling from the ceiling. A speaker popped and crackled, shaking more dust free.

Clean’s voice, somewhat exasperated, crackled through, “Finally, ghoul get back here. There’s a problem.”

We joined Clean and Bone, the former now also wearing armoured barding, as they argued over the haul they had managed to obtain. Beside several open lockers, as well as one which now had a screwdriver lodged into the lock, lay a few serviceable weapons. Bone stood defiant over some and barked at Clean.

“’Course it fucking matters! I’m not leaving empty hooved here! Got a damn business to run.”

“We ain’t leavin’ at all, you bein’ like this,” Clean fired back, eyes looking haggard. “Finally! Ghoul mind explainin’ to your new friend here why she can’t claim these weapons while we’re still usin’ ‘em? Figure you’d be better with the sense talkin’.”

“The mediator perhaps?” Warm muttered quietly with a raised eyebrow.

“I wish, makes it sound like I get somewhere,” I whispered back before joining the conversation. “Bone, how are we going to get this all out of here?”

“We all gotta use it, but I want mine and Rag’s fair share before we start giving out the goods, and I want a promise we will get that too!” she snorted, pawing the metal floor and dragging a few shells away.

“I’m sure we can work something out, we do need to put survival first,” I held up my hooves defensively as the glare turned my way. “Please don’t stab me.”

“Wasn’t gonna.”

“Well, glaring daggers and all,” I flashed a grin. “Point is, there are other things to go looking for. We need medical supplies, more weapons, and survivors.”

“Wait, what?” Clean and Bone chorused.

Clean recovered faster. “Ghoul, I’m all for finding Two and Dom, that’s a given, but we ain’t doin’ this shit again. We can’t save everyone, there just ain’t enough of us.”

“I agree, breaking us out will be piss easy, but everypony else at the same time? And they get their hooves on our hard-earned loot? No,” Bone snorted.

“That’s not up to you,” Warm rumbled, suddenly feeling much bigger than he did a moment ago. “I will not abandon anyone in this state. We band together, like we always have. We are a herd.”

It felt like we were stood in a dragon’s lair, the beast having just woken from a long sleep by three squabbling ponies. With a metaphorical talon around each of our necks, Warm moved between us all. His presence filled the room to stifling levels, Clean’s ears twitching as he fought the urge to fight while Bone looked nearly terrified by the visage. She eventually caved and nodded once, Clean managing a grunt before breaking eye contact. In a gasp of air, the tension fled and the room became still once more.

“Now then,” Warm said, his voice calm with peace instead of rage. “Medical supplies. Bone and Hard, you two scout out and find what you can. Me and Clean will use what we can here, see if we can do some good.”

“Sure,” I squeaked.

“Take the map, ghoul. Found a few spares, marked here and the first room on them,” Clean floated a small foldable sheet of paper, pointing at the various spots to hide the shakes. “You find anythin’, make sure it’s friendly and at least equine before you bring it back.”

“Sure you don’t want a pet abomination?” I tucked the paper into the satchel and dodged the scowl. Bone moved alongside, her IV stand now with a serrated knife taped to one end, matching the other knives across her body.

“Ok, let’s go. Give us three hours, we ain’t back we’re dead,” she trotted out of the room, whistling a tune I didn’t recognise. I shrugged at the others and gave chase.

“Ghoul, we’ve been here,” Bone grumbled at the crossing of corridors, looking at the squished remains of several oversized roaches.

“Maybe it’s the left turn at A laboratory…”

Navigating was never my forte. I was never a pathfinder during my time in Morale, I left that to either Gadget and her spritebots or the pony whispering in my ear to let me know where to go. Not to say I was totally useless with a map, with time on my side I could eventually get to where I was intending to. Intentionally or not, I would arrive.

Bone’s grumble grew into a growl. “We tried that, that’s why we’re here again. Face it, we’re lost.”

“Not lost, temporarily displaced, just a case of finding a new direction and taking it,” I stuck out my tongue, only for the paper to be snatched from my hooves and into Bone’s line of sight.

“Then we’ll take the next right and search every damn room until we find something,” she grunted, stuffing the unfolded paper into a bag. “Luna fuck me twice, you’ll be the death of me.”

I frowned at the swear but followed dutifully on. Beyond the bugs, we had met nothing else in the corridors. Bone suggested it was because of the area we were in: fewer experiments to contain so both robot and monster would be far from us. I hoped that she was right, I had no desire to find anything more dangerous than a bug right now.

We had spent most of the walk-in silence, occasionally hearing Warm through hidden speakers asking for survivors to find a map and come to us. With any luck, somepony would actually hear it and find the security room. If luck was really on our side, it would only be ponies that came to us.

“You mentioned something earlier, goddesses?” I tested the air, seeing if I could defrost or ease the tension. “Who are they?”

“Have you been living under a rock for the past century?”

“Technically under a building, but yes,” I quietly replied.

Bone didn’t give any sign that she heard and carried on. “Celestia and Luna, the goddess sisters. They carry the sun and moon above the clouds.”

“You mean the Princesses?” my brow furrowed. “When did they become goddesses?”

“Sweet fuck ghoul, I don’t know. Go find a historian and get them to explain it all!” Bone snapped, storming on ahead. “Maybe there will be some helpful book somewhere that’ll give you all the damn answers.”

“That seems a little too convenient,” I countered, trying to keep up. “I’m just trying for conversation.”

“And what good will that do?”

“I dunno, find out how to work better as a team?” I suggested, only to have a hoof jammed into my chest.

“There is no team, here. Partnership, sure, but once we’re out of here that’s us done,” Bone snorted, poking my chest as she spoke.

“And here I was, hoping you would have warmed up to me by now,” I sighed. “If there’s one thing I know from the war, making friends keeps you alive, so make as many as you can.”

“We won’t be friends, not with the company you keep and the things you look for. We’ve only needed each other, and we’re gonna keep it that way,” her eyes narrowed. “And you can bet your rotten ass that I’ll kill you if we bump into each other in Hope.”

“What are you so desperate to find there?” I dropped my tone to match hers, seeing a spark of surprise. “What’s got you so on edge?”

I moved to block her attempt to push past, meeting her eyes again. Crystal blue dodged my dim green, searching for an escape from the gaze and the situation, until Bone broke. Her body language shifted from aggression to passive acceptance, but she kept the annoyed expression.

“Trapped down here with who knows what, Rag is out there in trouble without any back up, and I bumped into the one damn pony I hate more than any other fucker in this world. Is that reason enough, Hard Copy?”

A distant scream echoed around us before I could reply. We both swivelled our heads to where it came from, distorted from the metal acoustics of the halls. I sighed and started to move towards it, feeling comfort as Bone moved to keep up beside me. She still bubbled with anger, now focused like a keen blade instead of boiling away. Our pace built up as we saw signs of a fight, blood splatters here and there with spent casings lying around. A sign flashed by telling us we were near the medical supply room.

The casings were cold, but the scent of blood was still fresh in the air, “Think this is a hunting spot.”

“There have been several fights here,” Bone added sharply. “Old and new blood mixed together, shitton of scratch marks… but there shouldn’t be anything like experiment labs near here.”

Bone frowned to herself and took the map out, studying it carefully in the dim red light. The endless metal hallway opened into a near identical one, only this ended with another doorway. I approached it with careful movements, body tense for the inevitable jump scare that fate had been holding on to for the last hour.

Nothing seemed off about the doorway other than the lack of door. I couldn’t see anything that suggested a trap, but I still entered with my head low and ear perked up and ready. The light behind suddenly winked out as my rear hooves crossed the threshold, leaving me in the dim red glow of emergency lighting. The corridor was barren, save for the outline of the frame and a matching frame at the other end.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice suddenly gaining an echo. “Bone?!”

I walked along the corridor, examining the walls for a clue to where I was and why the rest of the compound had just ceased to exist. At the other end stood an opened door way, the light flickering until I almost crossed the next frame. I noticed two things: first, the light wasn’t originally red, and second, there was writing on the wall.

TurN bACk HArD COPY.

The words were written in blood, the remains of a corpse sitting in the other corridor. The pulped mess was barely recognisable as a once living creature, rather a mound of meat with a few shards of bone poking through. It still wore a bomb collar.

I rapidly moved back to the entrance as, in the distance, something screamed. I tried to walk through the frame, only to find it blocked by something invisible. I pushed against it, trying to fight back the rising panic.

“Bone! Seven circles, help me!” my voice began to rise as the screaming grew closer. I took a few steps back and attempted to run through the blank space. I was thrown along the corridor as a reward for my efforts, which only added to panic.

“Oh no, no, no no no no,” I starting to slam on the frame, the walls anything.

The scream echoed around me, bouncing off the metal walls and reverberating inside my own head. I glanced over my shoulder and renewed efforts as I caught a glimpse of something approaching very fast. My own screams joined the noise as I could hear the sound of a hard gallop, hooves striking polished steel and leaping over the welded seams. There was no time to try one more time, so I turned to face my foe.

The creature was a rotted, skinless pony. Its one good eye span wildly as it continued the hoarse scream, hooves bloodied with the endless charge, half ear twitching as it came for me.
It was then I realised who I was looking at.

“You idiot!” I screamed at me and slammed me back through the door with an insane amount of force.

I managed a small woof as the air was driven out of me, followed by a cry as my head hit a wall. Stars swam around me as hooves pulled me away, my eyes blinking away the red when I saw the horror’s torso poking out of the door. The other me looked with his one good eye with a scowl, glaring daggers.

“Asshole! A hundred years of planning and practice, another fifty of running and killing to break the paradox, and you get in the way at the end?! FU-” and then he winked out of existence. A door rolled down the frame and slammed shut, a red light flicking on to “Locked”.

“The fuck was that?” Bone mumbled, more to herself than an actual question.

I could only shake my head and push for us getting as far away from that door as possible. I tried not to think about my words, nor the sign that helpfully identified the area as a Time Loop Testing Room. I barely understood magic, let alone how to manipulate it without a horn.

We returned to the corridor, the tension building back up once again as we replayed what we had seen over and over in our heads. Thankfully, all it took was a single left turn and we reached our goal. It seemed fate was having far too much fun with our lives, but it was willing to throw us a bone from time to time.

Still cautious, we opened the door and waited for the monster to burst out from hiding. Bone took the opportunity to throw her makeshift spear into the room, satisfied that nothing was coming at us after it stopped wobbling from the cupboard. We slinked in, taking the room in.

In the immediate vicinity, two rows of metal tables and stools sat with a list coat of dust – now disturbed from the change in pressure. Cold air washed over us, drying out my tongue as I breathed, blinking twice as much to restore a film of moisture. A mixture of wooden and glass doors sat in rows, labelled with the varieties of medical goodies that lurked within, while a half open door leading to a break room stood opposite a sealed glass and metal door. Bone moving to examine the treasure trove of chemicals while I nosed at the locked door.

Thick glass embedded in thicker steel let me look into the room, holding only rows and rows of vials. My eyes wandered to the attached terminal, waiting for a password to open the hoard of medical mysteries. I felt a temptation to just try and forced it down, even on my best day I wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance unlocking a terminal in a place like this.

“The fuck are these?” Bone’s question pulled my attention away as she lay two harnesses out on the table. “Found them on two mannequins in that room there, any clue?”

I looked them over, trying to discern a use. “No, nothing. They look like needles though.”

On some of the padded areas, there were rows of tiny needle like points, hollow tubes linking to them in preparation for something to flow through them. I traced the tubes, coming to where saddlebags should sit on the flank. Two canvas bags held metal containers, but I couldn’t pry them open despite our combined strength. Bone scratched her head.

“Dunno if they’re worth taking or not, they look painful,” her eyes scanned over once again before suddenly lighting up. “Wait!”

“What?” I frowned, watching her beam. I followed a pointing hoof and came to a word I couldn’t pronounce.

“They’re for drugs on the go! Look here: Isosteroprophenhol, that’s for storing buck. And here, this looks like it should take the tablets and turn it into an intravenous liquid to inject it into the body! Holy fuck ghoul, this is a great find!” Bone’s smile turned to a grin as she gave a very filly-like squee of joy. “Who knows how much this is worth!”

“Wouldn’t you need something to use this?” I frowned at the harness, hissing as a needle caught on my side. “It’s not like it can predict when you need certain drugs by itself.”

“Cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Yeah… how do you know that Isoscelespro-whatever is buck?”

“I read the labels, duh,” her smirk faded to annoyance at my confused face. “Yes, I can read. You find anything?”

“Storeroom, but it’s locked by a terminal,” I sighed, cutting it short as Bone held up a note with the word ‘password’ written on it. “You’d think security would complain about something like this.”

Bone shrugged, smiling. “We’re only ponies.”

We punched in the password, shivering as the door hissed open. Cold air rushed to greet us as did a plume of mist. Bone nudged me forwards, whistling nonchalantly as I fired a look over my shoulder. Bracing myself, I stepped into the cold and began to look over the various vials. All of them held chemical names I didn’t recognise in any shape or form, far beyond what anypony had ever taught me back in school chemistry.

All the colours of the rainbow stared back at me, each stoppered and labelled with precise care. I even spotted one that was literally all the colours of the rainbow in a single bottle, each one lying in perfect layers. What remained of my skin crawled at the sight, making me turn my head away. Across from it lay yellow painted canister, flecks of pink on it in vague shapes hidden by frost.

Experimental Medical Drug no.4777 “Hydra”

I carefully took the canister, the symbols of both Arcane Science and Peace adorned the side, along with warnings about it being untested on ponies. Given Bone’s familiarity with the drug, it seemed those steps in the safety program had been skipped long ago. I read along the edges, staring at the cocktail of chemicals and tiny notes about the storage.

Most of the words washed over me, meaningless gibberish in an arcane language far above what I could understand. I’m no fool, but science and magic weren’t something I ever took an interest in – beyond the logistics of how Ironheart’s armour could carry Saddle Rager in her True Anger form.

What did grab me were the words I did understand. True to its name, the canister contained something labelled as Hydra Extract. Hydras were one of the most feared creatures before the war, perhaps even more so than dragons or one of the star beasts. A dragon can be reasoned with. A star beast can be placated. Both of them would die once you pumped enough rounds into them.

A hydra could not communicate and had a high chance of coming back for rounds two to five after you’d blown it to kingdom come.

So knowing there were ponies who once worked here capable of not only defeating but harvesting a hydra’s body parts for medical experimentation did make me feel a little nervous, I must admit.

“How about that,” Bone said through chattering teeth. “A deal is a deal, ghoul. We get this back to the others and I’ll fix him up all shiny and new.”

I could see a mischievous smile behind her eyes as she took in the entire stock, only catching the slight twitch of an ear. Inside the lab, another hidden speaker squealed to life suddenly. Clean sounded angry as something was being stripped down in the background.

“-fine, ghoul can look after himself enough, and wouldn’t tussle with that mare on a good day. Besides, it’s just a medical lab, what’s the worst… shit,” the speaker popped as he flicked it back off.

We looked at each other and gave a nervous laugh, easing it through to a real one. I pushed past Bone and entered the lab, moving straight through to the rest room. I could hear clinks from the freezer and settled for praying that they were just being stored instead of consumed.

The two mannequins, now naked, sat in the corner next to a coat rack filled with lab coats. One made its way into the satchel, at the very least it could be torn up for bandages if not worn. I sat down at the terminal and began tapping away. Like many terminals, ponies had used it as a personal diary as opposed to the intended purpose – recording your work on something other than parchment.

That said, when you can enchant parchment to last indefinitely, was there a need for magical information storage?

The majority of entries were based on small experiments going awry or casual bitching about the relationships between colleagues, including a few fraternisation offences. Not that I was innocent of such conduct. One did catch my eye however – it was dated after the last day.

To whoever is still alive in here, for the love of Celestia help me!

I don’t know who let that madmare in, or why she’s activated the purge, but I’m still in here! I’ve had to hide myself in here because of one of those giant robots Morning Star insisted we get – for our safety indeed! The fucking thing nearly decapitated me when I came out of the bathroom, it’s only dumb luck I managed to get inside the labs. If anyone is near them, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SAVE ME.

Borealis

Mail written in surprisingly polite desperation, and accidentally on a terminal that can’t send any messages. Perhaps they escaped, though it was likely they didn’t. This purge that Battenberg had instigated was thorough enough to kill off all the other staff and Borealis didn’t come across as the surviving type.

With little else to read, I returned to the room and dove into the cupboards while Bone continued to clink and giggle inside the freezer.

“Find anything useful?” I asked, reaching as far back as I could.

“Ooooooh yeah, this is the jackpot. Also found a few missing things too,” she replied, another rattle of bottles chorusing. “Like there should be something here, but it’s not. Maybe somepony got here before us?”

“And skip all of this? Doubt it,” I grabbed whatever drugs I recognised, surprised that Bone had ignored so many on her first pass.

The silence returned for another ten minutes until I stood up from another delve. I froze as I saw the shape of a massive metal creature in the reflection of a cabinet window, lingering in the doorway. Though it was too large to fit through it, I could hear the beeps of circuitry as it tried to figure out a way to enter the room.

The machine was a terrifying combination of a metallic pony’s limbs with a body attached to the top. I had heard stories of Sentinels on the battlefield, and ever a few Ministries using them as security – just the shape alone was enough to wish there were several more miles between me and it. A flat head, sat on top of a thick bolted torso, swivelled towards me and red-ruby eyes lit up as it recognised a new target. A pneumatic piston swung into the door, easily crumpling one side of the frame as it began to carve a path towards us.

“Hard, what’s going on out there?” Bone’s voiced called from the freezer. The frame shook again.

“Might have a slight problem out here,” I replied, trying to force the panic from my voice and taking a position behind the closest thing to a weapon I could see. “Please tell me you found something with more punch than a spear.”

Bone poked her out as I tried to ram the machine with a metal table, my attempts to dislodge it screeching to a halt as I heard the tell-tale sound of a minigun warming up. The floor left my hooves as Bone tackled me out of the line of fire. Uncountable bullets slammed into the floor, chewing up the table and cupboards with ease as the mounted weapon corrected its aim.

We skidded beneath another table, kicking the legs down to put a barrier between us and it. Bone looked at me with a scowl as I put myself between her and the table, then began to dig through her bag. With a cry of triumph, she pulled out a strange grenade and threw it over the table cover.

Bullets had started to chew through the metal top when the device went off, the krump of an explosion replaced with an audible buzz of electricity. Blue sparks struck off the floor and surroundings, sending a tingle up my hooves as they arced up the sides of my legs. The robot gave a sad beep. Cautiously poking our heads over, we vaulted the table as we saw the robot had slumped against the frame, servos whirring as it tried to work out what just happened to it.

Bone started to shove the machine to one side with a grunt of effort. “If this is a slight problem, I can’t wait to see what you call a catastrophe, ghoul.”

“How many more do you have?” I asked as we pushed past, hearing the Trottingham cries of other robots echo from the corridors around.

“Not enough,” Bone replied, racing ahead without regard for the map. “One hundred for each one I use, by the way.”

“Do I look like I have any money?” I cried as the robotic cries turned to zaps of red energy being fired over our shoulders. A scream was bitten back as one grazed my shoulder, carbonising some of the flesh.

Bone skidded as she threw another grenade down the corridor, turning back as another burst of static took out more robots. I could faintly hear doubts of our bravery but ignored them in favour of living, dropping to the floor and sliding across the metal as Robopony whirled around a corner, metal tendrils flailing as it tried to grab at us.

“Sweet Luna, it fucking is a brain!” Bone half screamed as she rammed her spear at the glass housing, the shriek of serrated metal on toughened glass covering other expletives.

“Please stop dodging, I’m not very good at hitting a moving target,” the Robopony spoke with a worryingly child-like voice, firing a blast of magical energy at Bone as the tendril locked in place.

Red light glanced the armoured barding as another scratch appeared on the dome. I kicked uselessly against its legs, only making my own hooves sore as a reward, until the machine’s attention turned to me. The first tendril slammed into the floor, denting the metal enough to know that I did not want it anywhere near me, the second throwing Bone to the side with ease.

I rolled back to my hooves, dodging the first tendril’s second attempt to grab me. Another flash of red sailed past me, the groan of servos was drowned from the rumble of treads as the Sentinel began advancing towards us. The sight of a monstrous machine lumbering down a hallway froze me for a moment too long. Stars burst into my vision as I was flung from the Robopony, the child voice screaming.

“Not fair! I wasn’t done!” it shouted, firing a comparatively pathetic wash of red. The Sentinel grumbled a reply in machine, the minigun spinning up in response to the tantrum.

Bone pulled me away from the wall shouting something over the din before shoving us into a room, the hallway crumpling as it was hosed in gunfire. The door slammed shut as a chorus of “I say” came floating from another side. We sat panting in an abandoned canteen, Bone pressing a healing potion to my hooves.

“Where the fuck are they all coming from?” she spat, pulling herself to her hooves. “And why here? What’s here?”

“Perhaps I can help.”

We looked to each other, slowly turning our heads to the source of the robotic voice. In the middle of the room floated a single Spritebot, wings pattering over dusty tables. Feeling better from the various aches I had suffered, I stood up and looked at it warily.

“Bone, are you seeing this?”

“I can’t talk for long, but you need to get out of here. This room is pretty dangerous,” the bot continued as the torrent of bullets stopped outside. The Sentinel grumbled outside the door, which then bent in as the pneumatic arm began its work.

“Oh, right. My name is Watcher, and I think I know the-” the bot stopped still after Bone’s spear pinned it to the floor.

“Fucking robots!” she screamed, running towards the other doors.

We slammed against them, struggling with the heavy chains that had been wrapped around the handles. I looked through the port windows and could feel my irises shrink from fear. With a yell I yanked Bone away, the doors almost bursting open as something on the other side tried to force its way in. I saw a multicoloured tentacle push through the gaps in the door, the flesh rotting and scarred as it tried to grab what had disturbed its slumber.

Pinned to a scrap of clothing, a nametag that read Borealis.

Bone had run out of swears and simply look defeated, gripping her spear tightly. I moved behind, watching the canteen door’s dents grow deeper, the shutters buckling under each blow. Other than a few pans and a ladle, I had nothing to defend myself beyond a bag and my own hooves. The creature in the kitchen gave a hissing-gronk as Bone stabbed at the hunting limb, thick blood dribbling from the wound.

I honestly thought it was the end. A rather miserable way to go, but an end all the same. I thought about how little pain I felt on that fateful day and came to conclusion that being shot to pieces wouldn’t hurt as much as being eaten alive. I pawed the ground, focusing on my breathing and hoof placements instead of how I could see several Mister Handys waiting through the gaps in the door.

The speaker above crackled and popped. A mare’s voice roared through, tinny but angry, “You shut the fuck up now, unicorn. Oi, Bone, you get your sorry ass back here before I have to go find it!”

We both looked up, my face crumpled in confusion while Bone gave a triumphant cry. “Knew it! Ok ghoul, no dying today. Got a pegasus waiting for me!”

Everything happened at once. With a mighty crack, the lock holding the chains in place shot away and a mass of misshapen flesh spilled into the canteen. With a final bang, the metal door catapulted into the room, cartwheeling through several tables. The Sentinel’s minigun began to whir again and several Trottingham accents filled the room. In all the noise I could only feel a brief moment of stillness, a calm before the storm.

A bell jingled somewhere.

With a movement more fluid than anything I had ever done before, I grabbed Bone and threw us both over the counter we had hidden behind. The first bullet nicked my cheek, grazing past as we rolled over the wood. The others piled into the wall behind, tracking movement to the mutated creature. More cries of pain and a tentacle sought revenge, lashing out and driving a Mister Handy to the ground in a crash of metal.

“Right, that does it!” its compatriots announced, moving in with flamethrowers and saws. “We’ll have your legs off!”

Pushing Bone ahead of me, we dodged between the fight of machine and monster, scooting our way around the canteen until we could see salvation. All that stood in our way was the Sentinel once again. Bone pulled out another grenade, whispered something to it, and rolled it beneath the chassis.

What hairs remained stood on end as it depowered, beeping angrily. We sped past it and into the halls, never once looking back. The echoes of the fight were the only things that followed us.

Clean made a strange noise as he looked over the harnesses, studying them carefully. He slowly lifted each part up, putting it back down before rotating it and lifting it again. Another noise, followed by another examination.

“And these were just lyin’ there?”

“Third time, yes,” Bone replied, annoyed that her prize had been snatched immediately from her upon arrival. “Are we going to do something with them, or not?”

“Not until I’m done,” a voice called from behind the terminals, wings poking out either side of the screen. “Once this is rebooted, we’re good to go.”

I flicked the next page of my book over, a rescued copy of Guns and Bullets. In the two hours we were gone, six more survivors had managed to find their way to us. Bone’s companion, Rag, had arrived with another slave, called Wensleydale, along with a few interesting toys. Among them, a leg with a PipBuck still attached. The leg had been neatly placed in the corner, out of sight and mind while she worked on the device. I tried to ignore the blue jumpsuit that was still on it.

Warm had occupied himself with three foals that had somehow escaped unscathed. Turning Tide, who had guided them, was in resting in another room while her wounds healed. The four had come under attack by another tentacled monster that stalked the halls, escaping while it was occupied with the slaves they entered with. According to the Tide, it was less interested in eating her than something far worse.

I shuddered at the thought, and eyed up the salvaged weapons we had stockpiled. I had claimed a pistol should the worst happen, while Clean and the other firearm users had several shotguns in various states of repair. Nothing had come looking for us yet, which was either a blessing or a sign of worse things to come.

Our return was met with a mix of disbelief and joy. The foals were afraid of my appearance but that eventually turned to cautious avoidance rather than outright terror after Warm embraced me. I have no idea how he stomached the smell I must have given off after all the fun of the previous hours.

Rag, however, had her hooves around Bone before she even made it past the corridor. It was a wonderful sight, a side to Bone I hadn’t expected. I also began to wonder how much anger and fear she was actually repressing during the time we spent together, as she had a genuine smile on her face when they were finally reunited. The surprises continued after I offloaded the loot, when Rag approached me.

“Hard, right?”

“Copy actually, Hard Right was my neighbour.”

“Hilarious,” she replied, deadpan.

“You should’ve met his sister, Second Left,” I carefully placed the last potion on the worktop.

“You a comedian or something?” Rag caught herself, putting a hoof in front of my face. “Don’t answer. I just have something to say.”

“Something nice, I hope,” I turned to give her my full attention. “Getting a little bored of variations of ‘ghoul’ and ‘zombie’.”

“Yeah, know the feeling. Getting the name ‘feathers’ thrown at you a hundred times a day gets boring,” she sighed. “The thing is, thank you.”

The moment dragged on a little too long, so I tried to hurry it along with a hoof wave. “For?”

“Saving Bone. We only have each other, and she said you’ve saved her twice now. Even after earlier.”

I shrugged. “I’ve sided with several ponies who’ve threatened me before. Woke up to Clean pointing a shotgun to my face for example. We need to stick together, even if we end up shooting at each other a few days from now.”

“For what it’s worth, I owe you. Thanks again, Hard,” she smiled, something oddly familiar about the grin setting me on edge. I smiled it away.

“No worries, haven’t got much but we need to make the best of a bad situation,” I said.

“Yeah, ponies of a feather fly together, just like my old mare said. Just hope we actually fly and not flop.”

With a final noise, Clean dropped the harnesses and brought me back to my book. “Fine, if you can get them workin’ we’ll figure out a use. Ghoul, put down your book. Doin’ another check for Dom and Two, and you ain’t doin’ much.”

I did as I was told, following the squeaking wheels of Clean’s chair through the corridor. Wensleydale helped us through the barricade Warm and Clean had constructed out of what scrap metal they could make. We carefully picked our way across the route back towards the first room, staying as silent as the new corpses we came across. Most were more of the strange mutated dogs we came across earlier, but we found the occasional pony – both slave and slaver. The latter brought a bit of hope, which was quickly quelled when we realised that the slavers were searching for us as well now.

It had become an hourly ritual almost, Clean would take one of us and just stare at the screens for an age before we convinced him to come back. I could recognise a coping mechanism a mile away but was thankful he wasn’t trying to lie about his reasons, open and honest about who he wanted to save.

Yet still we sat watching the screens, looking for a familiar face or location. We’d occasionally see a fight between monsters and machines, even with a pony caught in the middle, but Clean would always refuse to leave. That said, there was nothing stopping me from leaving to rescue those in need, though deep down I was aware there was nothing a single ghoul could do in such a situation.

“Clean, I’m sure they’re alright,” I said again, staring at the screens. “They’re tough.”

“Ain’t believin’ it until I see ‘em,” he replied, eyes glazed over as he flicked from sight to sight. “You don’t know until you see a body.”

“The Ministry of Peace would have a field day with you,” I snorted.

“What’re you sayin’?” he turned, casting a wary eye on me.

“That you’re thinking too little of them, like you don’t trust them to survive. They’ve lasted this long, right?”

“Out there? Yeah, of course, but here? No, here’s worse,” his teeth ground against each other. “This fuckin’ place.”

“Seven Circles, Clean, what are you doing?” I gestured to the screens. “This brooding hero thing you’re trying just does not work, this isn’t you. You don’t sit in a wheelchair worrying, you do everything you can with what you have.”

“Don’t know shit, ghoul.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything about you, and yet here I am in a death trap helping you chase after something I barely understand for reasons I don’t get,” I moved to block the screens.

“And that’s none of your damn business,” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “We ain’t doin’ this.”

“Yes we damn well are,” I shot back. “You have pushed Domino to the brink, Two Tone is killing himself over not helping you more, and I’m at my limits too. Now you’re sat here, guilting yourself up because you have no faith in either of them.”

“Fuck you!” Clean roared. “What are you expectin’? You have any idea about what’s on my fuckin’ plate? You know what happens if I lose them?”

“I lose them too!”

Dust trickled from the ceiling as the echo faded. Clean cleared his throat and opened his mouth a few times, his tongue searching for the words. I shook my head and looked away, panting the anger away. He cleared his throat a second time, but remained otherwise still.

“Stars above, I’m sick of this,” I finally said.

“Of what?”

“You being afraid. Ponies talk about you like some force of nature, unstoppable and immovable. Two Tone holds you like a beacon of hope and safety, Domino loves you like nothing else. Seven Circles, even Devil Luck was scared enough to pull an entire casino on us because of you. Snake Eyes sent his best killer to take you out!” I stomped. “I want to see that Clean Sweep, not this shifty and shady creature who hides from slavers and turns his head when somepony stands up to him.”

His eyes flashed anger as I talked, unbridled fury at the mention of Snake Eyes and the insults. It gave way to a slow dawning, Clean slowly taking the words in and understanding my stance. One more push.

“You’re supposed to be this wonder pony, yet all I see is an old bitter stallion. Where is the Clean who barbeques raiders for a shifty look? Why has he vanished?”

“I ain’t that pony anymore,” Clean replied, voice hard and cold. “I don’t want to be that pony ever again. You don’t even know what you’re askin’ for, ghoul.”

“Then tell me,” I stood against the stare. “We’re supposed to be friends, right?”

The scoff felt like a dagger to the heart. I fought back an urge to storm away and continued to stare. If I moved, the tears may have started.

“We ain’t friends, ghoul,” Clean replied. “Ain’t no fault of your own, just the way it is. Better that way. And there’s a good reason I ain’t keen on bein’ this… thing everyone else thinks I am.”

“I get that, but why aren’t you taking the fight to the right ponies?” I stepped up. “What’s stopping you?”

“All-out war,” he suddenly snarled, face pressed against me. “I have far too much blood on these hooves to allow my feelin’s take control. If Domino had it her way, Manehatten would be painted red years back. I ain’t bein’ responsible for somethin’ like that.”

I felt fear. Not the kind of tense fear of a threat to your life, where a quick dash might let you see another day, nor the slow fear of a horrific realisation. It was a base, animalistic fear, as if I was in a room with some giant predator with no hope of escape. Septic scared me, and I was frightened by the creatures and machines that roamed these halls, but, at that very moment, I was terrified of Clean Sweep.

Warm’s growl was similar, but it was far more focused and intimate. His anger was directed at us for a greater purpose, like how a firehose contains such immense pressure and applies it in one direction. Clean’s was more like a fire: chaotic and uncontrollable, waiting to gobble up the next weakening structure or victim.

His voice carried power that I could barely understand, one that suggested that he could indeed bring war and destruction to the battered city. His eyes burned a cold determination, as if he were holding himself in check for fear of letting this murderous creature loose upon the world. Two Tone’s words echoed in my head, and an image of Clean stood among the flames emerged from the depths.

“We all have shames,” I said after a long pause, finally collecting myself as Clean brought his look down to a simmer. “But we can’t let them define us.”

“Ghoul, I mean this in the politest way, fuck off. That never has, and never will define me. I am what I make of myself, that clear?”

“Crystal,” I hid the wince after I spoke the word, almost on reflex.

“Perfect, you’re gettin’ the hang of this now. I don’t know where you heard the name Snake Eyes, or what it means to me, but you’d best be forgettin’ it real fast,” he fixed me with a glare. “Understood?”

“I get the feeling this is more for my benefit than yours,” I said stiffly, agreeing with a nod.

“Think of it how you will, just lookin’ out for myself and those I care for.”

“And am I among them?”

“Can’t rightly say you are.”

“Then explain the slavers back in Fillydelphia.”

“I was against that, and you know it.”

“But you did it anyway!” I caught his eye, moving back so we were face to face. “You did it and you defended me when they moved against me, why?”

“Because you’re my damn responsibility!”

It took a few moments for me to find enough braincells to answer. “What?”

“I took you out of that damn pod, I brought you into this damn world, now I have to look after you,” Clean snorted and spat on the floor.

“Who do you think you are?” I couldn’t stop the anger in my voice. “Look after me? Why do I need looking after?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped back. “I don’t know and I don’t understand, but I look at you, ghoul, and I just feel like you’re the saddest excuse for a creature I ever laid eyes on. Don’t get me wrong, there are some days I just want to blow your rottin’ head clean off and spare me from those thoughts, but I just can’t do it.”

“Well what’s stopping you?”

“You damn well stayed, that’s what,” Clean’s expression shifted in the most minute of ways. “You waited for us when we went to Tenpony, or you came back, don’t matter which. You put your faith in a stranger, and you ain’t a stupid pony. You can be a fuckin’ idiot, but you ain’t stupid.”

“You expected me to leave? Why?”

“It’s what I would’ve done,” Clean sniffed, looking over the screens once again. “I would’ve ran and ran and ran, until my ghoulish legs fell right off. Ran from all this shit and hidden away. Wakin’ up in a hellhole with an asshole and his problems aimin’ a shotgun at you.”

I nodded slowly, trying to look behind what Clean was saying. “I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I think I wanted to stay, just long enough to show the wastes that things don’t have to be so bad. That there is laughter here, somewhere, you just need to dig it out first,” I smiled, catching the tiniest twitch from the corner of Clean’s mouth.

“Think I need to take some words back, you are a little stupid,” Clean suddenly snapped to attention, focusing on the third screen on the bottom. “Fuck me, that ain’t good.”

“What is it?”

“You see that slave there?” he pointed at the decapitated body of a pony, surrounded by several Mister Handys.

“Guess the robots got him.”

“No, not the robots,” Clean sucked in a breath. “His collar went off just before they got there.”

My reply was cut short by the squeal of the speaker above.

“Clean, Hard, get back here. We have a problem,” Warm’s voice belched into the room, the worry on his voice. In the background, I thought I could hear crying.

We picked up the pace through the metal halls, and I was unfortunately proved right as we approached our base of operations. Gore had splattered the front barricade, the twisted remains of a shotgun lay nearby. Wensleydale was nowhere to be seen.

We moved through the barricades and joined Warm as he looked into one of the side rooms. Inside, the corpse of Wensleydale had been placed on a cot. A wet, red mess was all that remained of his neck. The collar was nowhere to be seen.

“Did he try to take it off?” Clean asked, watching as Bone dragged a blanket over the body.

“No, it just went off,” she replied. “He was standing guard, three beeps and boom.”

I looked to Warm who shook his head. “This is the longest dive I’ve been on. Maybe they’re getting impatient.”

“Tryin’ to flush us out, shit,” Clean snorted. “We need to get out of here, and get this damn thing started if we’re gonna break out.”

“Then we better get this shitshow on the road,” Bone replied, moving over the hastily organised medical tools we had pooled together. “Deal’s a deal, ghoul, let’s get him on the table.”

“Beg your pardon?” Clean looked between me and Bone for a moment, then settled on me.

“I, uh, found something. Something that can make you better,” I started, seeing the shock on Clean’s face. “Bone said she can help, she can make sure it’s safe and that she’ll patch us all up at the end of this.”

“In exchange for?” Clean gestured a hoof.

“Breaking her and her friend out,” I noticed the slight smile on Clean’s face. “Well, and a favour down the line as well.”

“Clever pony, got off light,” he remarked. “There’s a wastelander inside there.”

“I have my moments,” I replied, walking alongside him to another cot. “You’re being surprisingly cooperative, I had a whole speech prepared and everything.”

“Well, ghoul, either you’re about to save me or kill me,” Clean replied. “And it’s that or wait until my collar goes pop.”

I watched as he detached himself from the chair, grunting as he collapsed to the bedding. He grimaced as magic hefted his legs to a more comfortable position, Bone moving over with everything needed to begin the work.

“You don’t want to hear this, but you won’t be asleep for it. Won’t be pleasant, but it’ll do the trick,” she raised an eyebrow. “You mare enough?”

“Are you gonna talk shit through all of this?” Clean replied, looking thoroughly annoyed.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be fine,” Bone grinned back, taking out the canister.

The frost had melted away, leaving a sealed metal container of what could be the greatest medical miracle ever known. My eyes lingered too long, mind reeling at the possibilities. Was I letting a chance slip away? Was it just a pipe dream? If it could restore even a completely destroyed back, make you like new again, how would that affect me?

“Hard.”

I blinked back into the room, Bone looking up at me. “I can’t work if you’re stinking up the place. Go somewhere else, alright?”

“Of course, sorry,” I moved towards the door, pausing for a just a moment. “Clean.”

He shifted from the makeshift bedding we had, staring up at me. “Quit lookin’ so serious, makes me doubt this mare’s skills.”

“That wasn’t the problem,” I replied, still not meeting his eye. “This… thing, Bone said it could restore anything nearly. Limbs, bones, so long as the user is still alive it’ll bring them back. Like new.”

I nodded, meeting his eye with a serious look. “Make the most of it.”

Level up!

New Perk: Zebra Martial Arts (Blue Belt) – It's a far cry from the wise old master in a mountain, but a teacher is a teacher. You're now proficient enough in Zebra Martial arts to be a challenge to an actual student of the style and deal extra damage when using unarmed weapons. Maybe ponies should have thought twice before mocking your choice in comics.