“You don’t suit the martyr,” Warm said as he removed his hoof from my neck.

A groan escaped as I slowly got back to my hooves and went back into the first stance he taught me, practicing the pattern as he watched. My body ached all over as it slowly tried to combat the bruises, consuming the radiation from a contaminated bottle of water. In the lab’s defence, it was part of an experiment to see the ongoing effects of radiation on liquid, but it was the perfect top up for training.

Clean had been under the careful eye of Bone for around three hours now, the others taking the opportunity to sleep while we rotated a watching guard. With my inability to sleep, I was always around as the back-up but Warm had volunteered to spend the time with me to continue the practice. It kept my mind focused on something other than worry, not that I doubted Bone’s skills.

A few more slaves had arrived. No-one had heard from Two Tone nor Domino yet which put my stomach in knots, but I pushed it down. They were tough, they would be here soon enough.

“I think you could sacrifice yourself for the herd, go beyond your duty,” Warm continued, correcting a kick. “But you’re too… smart for that. You take risks but not ones you cannot survive.”

“What a backhoofed compliment, thank you,” I replied flatly. “I don’t know what to make of that.”

“Take it how you please, I meant no disrespect. What you did for Clean was not some self-sacrificing act, it was the practical choice. He was the weak link in the herd, and you took an opportunity to be selfish and made it selfless. That takes impressive emotional control, what did you do in your past life?”

“Threw parties, raided the homes of my friends and neighbours, and took copious amounts of drugs to cope with the stress,” I hissed as Warm threw me off balance with a well-timed parry. “Or are you about to throw some more zebra nonsense about coming back as a lizard?”

Warm frowned. “I’m not sure what lizards have to do with it, but no. Though it explains your actions somewhat, and what I think you are in the herd. Unseen, yet seeing all. Quiet, yet well spoken. The unexpected. The silent hunter, Ibis.”

I choked as he listed the description. “Hang on, wise? Seeing all? Silent? I don’t see how that’s me, Warm.”

He shrugged, pacing around the room. “The Silent Hunter. On hooves quieter than whispers, they slip forwards and deliver a fatal strike to the hearts of the foe, returning the herd successful without triumph. I think that suits the insidious nature of an agent of Morale, no?”

“So how does all-seeing and that come into it?”

“That’s just metaphor, take it how you will. To be frank, Hard Copy, you’re a manipulator,” Warm held a hoof up before I could protest. “I do not mean that in the negative sense, you know how to make things better for you, and by extension better for the herd. You do not operate as part of the herd, but as the key strike to keep the world in motion.

“Consider this, had you not convinced your comrades to continue your journey, Clean Sweep would remain crippled for the rest of his days. Had you not saved the life of Bone, she would not had offered to heal your friends. Had you not trusted me, we would have died long before finding the others. Had you not taken that grenade so long ago, you would not be standing here ready to make a lot of lives better.”

“How do you know about that?” I could not keep the ice from my voice, glaring at Warm. “And I never talked about Morale.”

“I know many things,” once again, he shrugged but had a twinkle in his eye. “And your friends are rather chatty.”

“Clean? I think you have the wrong pony,” I snorted. “Besides, why would he tell you about me?”

“Have you thought about asking him?” Warm retorted. “Do not look for new enemies, Hard Copy, it is not a wise path to follow.”

“Well, they tend to keep finding me, I’m a bit of a magnet for it.”

“A remnant of your nature before you became a ghoul?” Warm asked, stretching out.

I shrugged. “I can’t say, I tried not to count who I ticked off on a day to day basis. The list would be far too long by the end of the week.”

“Just as well, I do not trust a pony who knows the names of all his enemies,” Warm spoke as if he was dispensing some form of great wisdom. “He has far too much time on his hooves and spends little of it in a positive way.”

“What would you consider a positive way to spend time then?”

Warm considered the question for a moment, smirking as he came to a conclusion. “I think, if I were in the past, I’d spend my days reading to amass knowledge. Though I’m uncertain how knowledgeable a comic book can be.”

I couldn’t help myself but laugh, deep and rich from the belly. Warm joined in, his voice crisp and clear, until he slammed a hoof into my jaw. He continued to laugh as I staggered dazed, coming back and bouncing on my hooves as we went back into sparring. I concentrated more on dodging, avoiding the bigger hits and taking the smaller taps and checks. I had come a fair way in the art of hoof to hoof combat since Fillydelphia, my combat experience showing in the brief sparring matches.

Warm was still decades ahead of me.

I thrust out a forehoof as a feint, swinging my hindlegs around to follow up as Warm blocked the blow. With terrifying strength, he lifted himself onto one forehoof and used his own hindlegs to pin mine, flipping me onto my front with a flick of his spare hoof and shoving me to the floor. I struggled for a moment before he pressed his hoof to the back of my bomb-collar and make a click with his tongue.

“Better. You won’t beat me, but that is expected. You learn fast, Hard,” he released me and let me get to my hooves. “Faster than expected for someone of your age.”

“You’re not great at the whole compliment sandwich thing, but I’ll take it,” I groaned, shaking myself. “So what does this Ibis style mean? What cool moves do I get to learn?”

Warm shrugged. “No idea.”

“Helpful.”

“I was never fast or quiet enough for such a style, I cannot teach you techniques. The tactics are simple enough however,” he moved around the room, looking me over. “It is all about biding your time for the perfect strike, then removing yourself from the situation. When the herd has the Manticore cornered, you deliver the distracting or fatal blow. When the enemy is asleep in their camp, you are as silent as the shadows and remove the head.”

“When the world is at its worst, I do my best from the dark,” I smiled a little at the thought. “That sounds a bit more like me, or at least my job. What about you? What’s your place in the herd?”

“Ah, when I was younger I thought myself the Warrior. I was taught many styles, but loved Fallen Caesar the most,” he sighed. “But no, that is not my real place. I belong as the defender, the Testudo.”

“You seem the type to be good with kids,” I smiled. “Reminds me of somepony I worked with, once.”

Warm nodded, when he suddenly looked at the door. “Something is wrong.”

I was about to follow on when I heard something on the edge of my hearing. Slow rumbling. I raced with Warm out of the room, seeing Rag with another slave ready themselves with shotguns at the chokepoint. The foals looked terrified once again, Warm quickly ushering them into our training room as Bone joined us.

“Reckon it’s the big fucker?” she asked, biting her lip as I nodded. “Shit. There’s no way we can take him out with what we have here.”

“Any more grenades?” I tried, smiling as she took out two.

“This is it though. That fucker already took two and kept rolling. These might stop it, but that’s assuming it’s alone.”

As if on cue, we heard the battlecries of Mister Handys coming from the same direction. I groaned and moved back to the security room, taking a shotgun for myself. Bone moved alongside, picking up ammo crates and moving them up. Thirty rounds to go between four shotguns, not ideal but better than knives on a stick or fire extinguishers.

“Are you sure you should be out here?” I asked, resting the shotgun against a barricade. “Is Clean alright?”

“I’ve done all I can, just need to let it work its magic,” Bone replied, placing a tin of ammo. “I mean that literally. Your friend is tough, I’ll give him that.”

“Like you could never know,” I smiled at the compliment. “Maybe you should take a backseat on this one, we need somepony to patch us up should the worst happen.”

“You say that like you expect some poor fucker to get shot to bits,” she raised an eyebrow. “Come to think of it, I’ve put you back together more than anypony else here. You ain’t planning on more heroics, right?”

“Who me? Nobly sacrificing myself in the line of duty? Where did you get that idea?” I grinned. “I’m too sensible to go like that.”

“I almost believe you,” Bone snorted, her eyes showing a little smile.

“From what I remember of Hope, you’re far from sensible,” Rag said behind her, kicking a reload into an improvised battlesaddle. “You two ready?”

“Do you want an honest answer, or the cool one?” I replied, wincing as I saw Rag’s leg. “Are you sure it’s sanitary to wear that?”

The PipBuck was a good fit on Rag, but the nagging feeling about who the previous owner could be was too much for me to ignore. Rag seemed nonplussed about the whole ordeal, even becoming rather excited over the features the machine had. I remember getting motion sick the first time I tried one and had sworn off ever using it again, even though I was assured the later models had removed the problem.

“It’s as safe as standing near you is,” Rag replied, trotting past before her comment sunk in.

“Hey!” I called out, Bone snorting as she moved away as well. I shook my head, sighing with a content smile. For all the problems that we had run into since meeting the two mares, things were looking somewhat bright. At the time, I wished that we weren’t going to part ways, assuming we’d end up at each other’s throats soon after.

The feeling dissipated along with an unfortunate slave at the front of the barricades.

As the ash from their body blew past and into my mouth, I could see the Mister Handy turn around the corner. Before I could react, the body dented inwards as Rag and Turning Tide fired their shotguns into the robot. The saw was torn away from the spherical body, an eye-stalk flew away as it crashed to the ground.

“Here they come!” Rag roared and came they did.

Two more Mister Handys flew around the corner, giving chase to the two mares as they fired another few rounds into them. Four shots brought one down and had crippled the other, which rested against the wall in a worryingly life-like manner. I could swear I almost heard it panting.

“And now it’s time for me to explode,” it calmly said, the sound of something powering up coming from it.

As the whine built up, I could see the grey steel slowly turning red, white in some places. The whine turned into a rumble and an eyestalk came up to stare at us. The rumble was drowned by the sounds of Rag’s rapid-fire shots pummelling it into the metal floor until the rumble grew into a deep roar. We ducked behind cover as white-hot metal was thrown everywhere, embedding itself in walls.

“Holy shit!” Bone roared beside me, arriving without me realising it. “Can they all do that?”

“I hope not,” I said as the rumble was replaced with another far more menacing. “Else we have a real disaster on our hooves.”

“What the fuck is that thing?!” Turning Tide shouted as the Sentinel leered around the corner, giving a celebratory beep.

Found you.

I barely heard the shouts of terror as the minigun opened up, the barricades little better than paper against the storm of bullets. Bone pulled me away from my cover as she threw a grenade over our heads at the robot. The buzz-snap of electricity crackled across the hallway, the Sentinel powering down with a whine and a grumble. We jumped back to our positions, firing round after round into the machine.

It did nothing.

Metal slabs, too thick to be called armour, took the punishment as if it were no more than leaves in a gust. What remained of a paintjob was simply scarred off until we all clicked empty and rushed to reload. The Sentinel bided its time as it rebooted itself, and I could swear I heard robotic laughter as it did so.

“Fucking hell, what does it take to kill this thing!” Rag shouted, her wings looked more ragged than before with torn feathers. “That’s almost everything we have and it’s done nothing!”

“What else do we have?” I shouted back, looking for a convenient missile launcher or something to arrive.

Turning Tide suddenly jolted up, her face an epiphany, “The terminal!”

“On it!” Rag turned and fled towards the security room. “Buy me time.”

“How long?” I kept a wary eye on the machine, daring it to move.

“As long as we can,” Warm replied, quiet yet somehow filling the room, as he leapt over us and charged the Sentinel alone.

Ignoring the protests of the others, he tackled into the machine with a shout and slammed his hooves into the minigun. The metal screamed as it was slowly bent out of shape, each blow denting the fragile metal a little more. I found it hard to believe that Warm was ever considered slow with the flurry of blows he unleashed.

The Sentinel made a honk of surprise as it came to with a red earth pony smashing its arm to bits, the minigun clunking as it failed to spin up. Realising what had happened, the torso span to pull the weapon out of Warm’s reach, bringing the dented metal back arching back to attack him. His hooves came up in perfect sync and slammed upwards into the bottom of the gun, arm sailing off and exposing the inner torso in a shower of robotic gore.

Someone shouted as the piston arm came on the follow through. Warm moved his hooves to block it just in time, crying in pain as his leg shattered from the blow. He skidded along the floor, the Sentinel slowly advancing as more shots were poured on it. I fired round after round into the torso, hoping that a stray shot might get inside and do some real damage.

Nothing had happened by the time my shotgun clicked empty, Warm trying to back away as the Sentinel advanced slowly from the weight of the shots. While they did no visible damage, they did help in pushing it back slightly, only buying time before the inevitable.

I took a slow breath and dropped my shotgun. From the corner of my eye, I could see Bone’s shocked face as I grabbed the last grenade and charged ahead. I couldn’t hear anything else beyond my heavy breathing, the clang of hoof on metal, and the jingle of a bell. I darted past Tide, face contorted in anger as she fired another shell into the face of the Sentinel. I could clearly see a path in my head, following the trail as I jumped off a barricade, kicked off a wall, and sailed into the Sentinel. The pin of the grenade came off in my teeth and I slammed the metal sphere into the remains of the Sentinel’s shoulder.

It gave an alarmed beep as I crashed to the floor. The haunting red eyes flashed blue, lightning caressed the whole frame and a trail of smoke rose from the head. I punched a hoof in the air and grinned.

“Get up from that!”

“Hard!” Warm shouted, my attention coming up just in time to see the saw blade whizz past me.

It tore along my face, blood spraying along the metal as the Mister Handy became stuck in the wall. The shout had turned a solid strike to the skull to a jagged slice along my cheek. I looked along the arm and smiled meekly. The three eye-stalks were less friendly in their robotic apathy.

“Cake or death sir? I’m afraid we ran out of cake a while ago,” a claw swung up and grabbed at my throat, slipping off the bomb collar.

I tried to get away, but the claw locked on my leg instead, dragging me up to my hindhooves and leaving me awkwardly stretched out. The saw clunked as it was pulled free and I felt the heat wash over me as the Mister Handy opened up with its flamethrower, forcing the others back. I could barely hear their shouts and arguments about what to do. If they opened fire, they could hit me, but nopony could brave the firestorm to attempt to close the distance.

I swung my hoof into the joint and grimaced as the jolt worked its way along my bones. That one hurt. I tried again and again, the efforts wasted as the metal refused to budge. The saw spun up again and slowly advanced towards me. I suddenly realised that the machine, while still being just a machine, must have had some kind of intelligence within it. It was almost enjoying the torment.

With a shout I batted the saw away at the last moment, wincing as I heard a shotgun go off. Nothing hurt, but it was far too close for comfort. Another shot went off, the wall scored with buckshot while the saw came back again with greater speed. I turned my head at the last moment, feeling oddly thankful I not longer had a coat to worry about as it skimmed my skin.

“Look, hold still and it’ll go much faster,” the Mister Handy said impatiently, as if it was helping me dress rather than disembowel me.

I felt the heat rise as it fired another stream of fire at the others, crying as it grew more intense. The saw came down once again, too fast for me to deflect it cleanly. I flinched, waiting for the inevitable rip as it chewed into me. The heat grew and grew, becoming intolerable, until it reached a crescendo.

Then it all stopped. The saw stopped still, the pilot light winked out, Mister Handy had just froze in place. A few beeps came from inside the intricate circuits and wires as if it was mulling something over. The eyestalks clicked a few times.

“Ghoul, down!”

There was a single bang and holes appeared in the chassis, rocking the body away enough for the claw to lose its grip – not without taking a decent clump of skin with it though. Bone jumped over me and rammed a spear into the bulbous body, crying in triumph as it slammed against a wall. Warm then jumped past and stamped on the pole with his good leg, the spear piercing through with a scream of metal.

“Alright, c-call i-i-i-it a draw-aw,” the Mister Handy managed before shutting down.

“You alright?” Bone asked, helping me to my hooves. I hissed as I put the injured leg down, nodding. “We’ll get that sorted. What was that about no noble sacrifices?”

“Apparently I’d make a terrible martyr,” I replied, smiling at Warm in thanks. “What happened with the robot? What did you guys do?”

“Took our sweet time,” replied a familiar voice. “That said, always wanted to play the big damn hero.”

Clean Sweep stood with his same cold smile, hindlegs looking slightly shaky as they took the weight. The magic from his horn slowly flittered away, a stream of smoke coming from the barrel of a shotgun as he approached me. I couldn’t help myself and matched his approach, smile and all, grasping his foreleg with mine in greeting.

We held it for a moment before my head realised what I just did. “That was the bad leg. Ow.”

“This is probably the stupidest plan I have ever heard,” Clean said, staring at the harnesses once again. “And I’ve come up with some stupid ideas.”

“Can say that again,” I whispered, earning a glare from him. The new scar throbbed as my cheek twitched in a smile.

“If you have anything better to suggest, I’m all ears,” Rag replied, gesturing to the mess on the table.

“I’m on the side of the saner pony,” Turning Tide added, shutting up as she became the new focus of Clean’s glare.

“Think she meant you, Clean,” I said.

“Yep, I know.”

“Just making sure you knew a compliment when you heard one.”

“Ain’t too keen to be takin’ on praise of a dweller who trotted right up to slaver camp.”

“I have a name you know,” Tide sniffed.

“I know, don’t care.”

“For the love of… will you two pack it in?” Rag exclaimed, wings flared in annoyance. “Honestly, you two are like foals.”

I put a rotting hoof over Tide’s mouth before the inevitable ‘he started it’ came out. “Right, perhaps we should work on tweaking the plan. So at least Clean will be on board.”

“Not like I have a choice in the matter,” he grumbled. “Go over it again.”

Rag sighed, but did as she was asked. “Right, our main job is taking out the antenna. With so many of us here, we can’t all escape without one of us being spotted and all of us being killed. We’re in this together. These harnesses are medical applicators, they should administer drugs to ponies wearing a PipBuck-”

“Mmmph mmmph,” said Tide, pushing my hoof down. “Hang on, I missed this the first time around. First, why does it need a PipBuck?”

“It works with the monitor system in the device, checks vitals, uses what it needs, carries on,” Rag spoke with an odd cadence, like she was trying her best not to talk down to us.

“Ok, second, you said should.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t work.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Clean scoffed, walking around in a circle. “What’s the damn point in us havin’ the things?”

“Now hold on, they won’t work with the PipBuck but I can jury rig it with some help,” Rag hurriedly said before the harnesses ended up trashed. “From the looks of it, they were designed with outside help in mind as well. If the PipBuck failed, somepony else could activate the applicators if they were needed.”

“And you can set them up so we can do that on the fly, that it?” Clean replied, getting a nod in return. “Right, that aside, why ain’t we just opening all the doors and lettin’ that robot army of yours do all the work?”

“Because I need to be out there. They’re slaved to my PipBuck but there’s no way I can get out without some prick spotting me.”

“And the moment an unfriendly robot comes walking out, they’ll blow us all to hell,” Warm grumbled from the doorway, his skin pale as he hobbled inside.

“Fuck’s sake, does anypony listen to the damn doctor?” Bone shouted, shooing the injured stallion away. “I’d love to not give a fuck about your damn leg, but I wasted too many supplies fixing what I could. Get back in there.”

“That’s the other problem, these things,” I tapped the collar. “Have any more gone off?”

“Not that we know,” Tide replied. “But there’s still a lot of ponies in this place.”

“We need to shut them off, and that antenna outside is the key.”

“And there’s the problem,” Rag said. “The massive, heavily guarded, stuck in the open, antenna. And the moment someone sees one of us running up, they’ll have a lovely breeze on their neck.”

“So we’re back to square one, drawin’ straws for the suicide run,” Clean sniffed. “Again, stupid plan for the record.”

“I don’t see you suggesting something better! Better one or two of us than the foals,” Rag squared up to the unicorn. “I’m prepared to die, are you?”

“Shouldn’t come to that,” I said quietly as the pair slowly turned towards me, Tide scooting away from the crossfire. “Warm said earlier he’s learned how to disarm the collars, but we need tools and an explosives expert.”

“And the pony with a lit stick of dynamite for a cutie mark ain’t one, because…?” Clean raised an eyebrow.

“He’s better at the other end of explosives,” I replied.

Rag huffed, “Well, that’s just great.”

“Reckon I could do it,” Bone said as she re-entered. “I mean, I’ll need the parts and him talking me through it, but I can do it.”

“Ain’t that convenient,” Clean glared at me. “Anything else you want to reveal before we start arguin’ again?”

“Secret evil twin brother, the key to the doomsday device, and the location of the dragon’s cave where the salvation for the wastes lies,” I grinned and regretted it. “And smiling is going to be painful for a while.”

“Last one won’t bother me too much,” he replied, looking back at the harnesses. “So, feathers jury rigs those to work however, doc learns how to bust the collars, I’ll count up what we have left.”

“Who put you in charge?” Rag started.

“What would you do different?” Clean replied, eyeing her cautiously.

She stuttered for a moment before giving him a rather unpleasant pegasus gesture and storming off. I was partially impressed that she could do it with such damaged wings, but more that it had survived after all this time. Guess the lack of pegasi meant that they could get away with it.

“Thought so, stable’s with the foals and lookout, Warm’s restin’ up, ghoul… I’ve got nothing. Keep an ear out in case somepony needs help.”

“Glad you hold my talents in such high esteem,” I scuffed a hoof along the floor. “Guess I can finish that book.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Clean said as he walked away.

I swore he muttered something under his breath. It sounded like ‘you’ve earned it’, but that wouldn’t fit with his character. I smiled and trotted back to my reading spot.

The next hour, or so, slipped by with little action, beyond a few spouts of swearing from Rag as she worked on the harnesses. Clean’s stock take ended sooner than he thought, so he joined in on the repair work. I swapped guard duty with Tide twice to let her lend her horn to the work and ended up terrifying the foals once again. After a few foal’s jokes to calm them down, I told one of the more popular stories about the Ministry Mares.

“So Flutterfly shouted at the big dragon? But I thought she was scared all the time,” one of the fillies said: Lightning Dancer, the bolder of the three foals.

“Oh yes, she was scared. Terrified even! But, sometimes, we find courage deep inside us to do what’s right and save our friends.”

“What happened next?”

“The dragon was very scared by her shouting, and he told everyone he was very sorry. With a big flap of his huge wings, he flew into the sky and away from Equestria to look for somewhere else to sleep,” I twitched the corner of my mouth in an attempt at a smile. “The end.”

“But what happened next?” the colt, Rain Dancer, asked from behind.

“Well, the mares went home knowing that they saved Equestria, ready to do it again.”

“No, what happened to the dragon!”

I frowned, “You know, I don’t know! Maybe he’s still out there, waiting to be woken up from his nap. What do you think?”

“I think he’s awake and he’s flying around looking for another bed,” Lightning replied.

“I think he’s a zombie dragon and he’s looking for ponies to gobble up!” the colt roared, the smallest filly of the three squeaking.

“Rain! You’re scaring Thunder,” Lightning shouted, bringing another squeak from Thunder and a flurry of nods.

“Ah, there’s no need to worry,” I said, breaking the argument before it began again. “If real dragons eat real ponies, what do you think zombie dragons eat?”

There was a moment of silence before Thunder replied, “Zombie ponies?”

“Right! So you three are safe as stables, only I have to look out for any zombie dragons,” I gave a wink. “Of course, I could use some help from some brave friends of mine.”

Rain Dancer puffed his chest out, the face of a child’s idea of a warrior plastered on. Thunder looked terrified by the suggestion but nodded along with Lightning. I smiled at the sight, seeing a brief glimmer of hope in the three foals. My wounded leg tensed to distract from the pain in my face. Not the best of ideas, but anything for the audience.

The door slid open and Tide trotted back inside, “Thanks again, Hard. What have you been up to since I was gone?”

“We’re gonna kill the zombie dragon!” Rain announced, pointing a hoof at nothing in particular.

Tide sent a concerned look which I shrugged away, “They can tell you all about it.”

The door hissed behind me as I trotted back into the corridor. There wasn’t a clean bit of metal in the whole place, either littered with spent shells or blackened with soot. What remained of Wensleydale’s blood had dried up from the fire, turning to rusty brown or flaky black along the first barricade. A thing layer of ash lay across the floor, there wasn’t even a body to tie a name to.

It dawned on me just how lucky I was to survive the encounter with just a skinned leg and a few other minor wounds. I hoped that the luck would hold out until we were out of Appleloosa at least. From the security room I could hear Clean swearing at the terminal, either the microphone had died again or there was something wrong with the broadcast system in the labs. Either way, nopony was coming our way any time soon.

“Oi, Hard,” Bone’s head poked out from our medbay. “Get in here.”

“What for?” I asked, realising that I should’ve asked it before I walked into the room. “What is that?”

“Hm? Oh, Purge,” Bone replied, ignoring the bubbling flasks on two burners. “I need a test subject.”

“What?”

“For the bomb collars.”

“No, wait, two conversations. First, what is Purge?” I shook my head, trying to ignore the fumes. I had no idea how Warm could handle the heady vapours, but he seemed nonchalant about the whole situation. Oddly the most powerful scent was oranges, which made a pleasant change from the usual smells of a chem-lab.

“It’s like super Fixer, I guess. Purges the body of every contaminant in one fit burst, perfect for the pony who’s about to go on the bender of a lifetime and wants to survive most of it,” Bone grinned.

“Well, that answers why I suppose. One fit burst?”

“If I said explosively, it’s the wrong kind of idea,” Bone frowned. “Sort of. Put it this way, you’re gonna want a bathroom pretty fucking quick.”

“Charming,” I wrinkled my nose as the smell continued. “Test subject for the bomb collar?”

“Well, I ain’t trying the first go on myself, am I? I balls it up, we’re all fucked.”

“So you pick me?”

“Well, you’ve proven to not give a shit about what happens to your body,” Bone shrugged. “Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“She has a point, Hard,” Warm slurred. “For the good of the herd.”

“Seven circles, Warm!” I trotted over to him, looking at the glazed expression I mistook for aloofness. “He’s up in Cloudsdale! How is he going to tell you what to do?”

“We’ll cope. Come on,” Bone moved to a less busy part of the room. “The only other pony that might agree is the Stable Dweller or maybe a foal. I think that’s a bit too cruel though.”

I grumbled, accepting the argument, and laid where she indicated. Various tools were placed ready for use. I closed my eyes as the work began, trying to ignore each tug on the collar as Bone carefully disassembled it. For all the finery of unicorn magic, earth ponies had grown to learn how to use their tongues incredibly effectively.

Take that how you will.

So, in theory, I was putting my faith more in the generations of ponies that came before instead of a spear wielding drug addict and a dosy student of zebra martial arts.

“You’re doing it again,” Bone mumbled around a screwdriver.

“What?”

“Smiling. That scar twitches when you do it.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“If you want it to open up again, yeah. It’ll be a while until that heals better, don’t overdo it,” she grumbled over a particularly tough screw. “And it’ll make the foals even more scared of you.”

“Think I’m pretty scary as it is, took them this long just to listen to me without somepony else in the room.”

“Think it’s less scary, more creepy. Think they haven’t seen a non-feral ghoul before.”

I frowned at the comment. “Am I that uncommon?”

“Oh yeah, you’re rarer than a clean raider. The walking talking spooky showpony.”

“Think the creepy clown might sound better,” I half joked. “At least it flows.”

The bells jingle.

“Shit, you ok?” Bone looked around, her face holding genuine concern.

“Yeah, why? What did you do?”

“You just flinched like you were about to take a sledgehammer to the face. Just thought I caught you,” Bone yanked on something and I felt a part fall off. “Warm, is this ok to take off?”

“Yeah?” came the reply.

“Cool,” Bone chucked the piece away. “I hate this kind of thing.”

“Saving a pony’s life?”

“Disarming bombs, such stupid work and it only works half the fucking time.”

I watched as something important flew away, “You fill me with such confidence, Bone.”

“I should do, I’m an expert at this. I was prepared to use the favour on you as well,” she laughed as I winced. “Aha! You forgot!”

“You’re awful,” I groaned.

“And you’re thicker than shit, but useful to have around.”

“Bone?” Warm said slowly, as if he was feeling for the word around his mouth.

“Yes lightweight?”

“Don’t forget, you only have three minutes once you start. Else… boom,” Warm giggled at the end, an odd sound from such a massive pony.

I felt Bone pause.

“Hard, how long have we been doing this?”

“I have no idea.”

“Ah. I’ll just pick up the pace a little.”

I heard a crunch of something in Bone’s mouth and the sweet scent of mint wafted across my nostrils. I could hardly blame her for choosing to do that. The tugging became a little more erratic, the tools dropped in a hurry instead of being neatly placed as wires were snipped and pruned. The plan was a little more intricate than just removing the collar: the decoys still needed to be wearing them to work, the slavers’ first instincts would be to blow the collars instead of shooting the wearers.

I closed my eyes and waited for the beep of my collar exploding. I can’t describe myself as a pious pony: I was never one for deities or real superstition. I prayed all the same, keeping it inside my head to not distract Bone from her grunt inducing work. A screwdriver landed on my face a few times, snatched up in the frenzy of work.

“Bone?” Warm mumbled from his corner. “Green wire.”

“On it,” Bone replied, bringing the wire cutters up.

“Yeah, don’t cut it.”

The cutters flew across the room and hit Warm right between the eyes, “Fuck’s sake, you dopey bastard!”

“Whose fault is that?” I grumbled, opening one eye. “Did you cut it?”

“No, but I was damn close.”

I sighed in relief, “How much more work?”

“Dunno, better ask the lightweight.”

“I resent that remark,” Warm replied, his voice coming back to its usual focus. “Should you be throwing important tools at an injured patient?”

“I’ll throw tools at whoever I want, especially the shit-for-brains stallions that nearly make me blow myself up!” Bone snorted, “Look at this and tell me what needs to be done.”

“Yourself?” I said with worry.

I felt one more tug on the collar followed by a single long beep. “There. We’ll need the control panel to take it off, but it won’t explode from the signal.”

“You say that like it can still explode,” I mumbled, looking up at the towering image of Warm. He was still unsteady on his hooves.

“Well, yes. The explosives are housed all around the collar, if they are ignited then,” Warm trailed off. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to protect your neck.”

“I’m good at saving it,” I replied, slowly getting to my hooves. “Who’s next then?”

“Only one other pony,” Bone sighed. “I panicked and trashed most of these tools, there’s no way I can use these more than once. Of course that wouldn’t have happened if somepony told me what to do when I was supposed to fucking do it!”

“I thought you knew medicine?” Warm replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’m still feeling pretty woozy from those painkillers.”

“Well how was I supposed to know you’d take to them so well?”

“Fuck!” Rag’s voice belted from the security room.

I slowly made my way out of room, “Guess I’ll take a look and see what’s going on.”

Rag and Warm did little to protest and continued to bicker between each other. Warm’s stance was far more agreeable and understandable, given how Rag had essentially doped him up and was now blaming him for being in that state. Hindsight is wonderful for pointing out what was wrong, but something told me that Bone lacked foresight as well. Perhaps even any common sense when it came to drugs.

I entered the room to see Rag and Clean scowling at each other over the harnesses. The two had butted heads repeatedly since Rag’s arrival, and I feared that this time it was reaching its peak. I slowly approached, trying to put forward a calming presence.

“What’s happened?”

“This fucking unicorn is what’s happened!” Rag shouted, wings flaring out.

“Me? You’re the genius that said I should fix ‘em any way I can, and I did just that,” Clean shot back. “I used up some damn good materials gettin’ ‘em into a workin’ state, and this is how I’m thanked?”

“Thanked! You’re gonna kill one of us!” Rag yelled back. “All of them are set to go at the same time, that’s suicide!”

“Let’s take a step back now, ok?” I tried to move between the two before it came to blows. “What exactly is the problem?”

“One of the harnesses is good to go, even have a mouth activated toggle for the different doses and drugs,” Rag sighed, throwing a hoof up in exasperation. “The other is an all or nothing shot. You pull the toggle and it dumps the entire load into the user’s system. We could reduce the doses to make things easier, but all those conflicting drugs will fuck you harder than… I can’t think of an analogy.”

“Didn’t know that’s how it’s supposed to operate, but ain’t like I understand that kind of thin’,” Clean sniffed, catching my eye. “What?”

“You can fix a self-powering cart and six shotguns from nothing,” I said with a lowered gaze.

“Yeah. Guns and carts are one thing, medical tech is far different. Totally different skill set,” he cleared his throat. “Point bein’, what do we do now?”

“We’re not using it, that’s final,” Rag stamped a hoof and pulled it off the makeshift workbench. “Nopony could survive it.”

“He could,” Bone said from the doorway. To my surprise, and horror, her hoof was directed straight at me.

“What?” I said, perhaps a little too flatly.

“Ghouls have a higher tolerance than other ponies to drugs, they can take two, three times the dose before it starts to affect them,” Bone continued, a strange look coming across her face. “I reckon he could take the cocktail.”

“You reckon?” I began before being cut off by Rag.

“Bone, that’s pretty risky. What if it doesn’t work? It could kill him.”

“Could, but so could’ve deactivating that collar,” Bone smirked. “Oh yeah, Hard’s the first to be freed.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Clean mumbled. “Of course you’re the first!”

“For the record, I almost died during the procedure,” I pointed a hoof at him. “I want that known.”

“Almost, but you didn’t,” Bone sang.

“Well, we’re out of options, aren’t we?” Rag sighed, shaking her head. “Guess you’re on the first wave, Hard.”

“Who else then?” Clean asked, double taking at the only pony with her hoof up. “Fuck off, why you?”

“Because I know my limits and I can control the dosage better,” Bone replied, looking rather smug. “And I’ve deactivated my collar as well.”

“Already?” I bit my lip to stop the eyebrow rise.

“Yes.”

“Then how…?”

“Trade secret,” Bone winked. “If there’s enough of a distraction, I get can get to the antenna no trouble. Fuck it, I know I can get there with what I have brewing.”

“Alright, so how does the ghoul cause a big enough scene for you to do what you need to?” Clean asked, following everyone else’s eyes to the door as Warm cleared his throat.

“I might have the answer to that.”

“You ok?” Bone asked, rolling her shoulders as the door appeared in the gloom.

“Considering everything that’s about to happen, I can’t really say yes,” I replied gloomily. “But I don’t really have a say in the matter now.”

“Ah come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Fun? The last time I went on a bender like this it did not end up well for anypony involved,” I huffed, shaking my head as a memory popped into my head like a swamp bubble.

“Well, it’s that or we end up the only fuckers left alive in this place,” Bone glared at me. “So get rid of those shitty thoughts and get your head in the game.”

“And here I was hoping that your language had improved. Remember what to do?”

“Please, I’ve been playing the mare in distress for years. Don’t pull that toggle until you’re out of the tunnel, ok? Even I’m not sure what’ll happen when all that Stampede hits you,” Bone put a hoof on my side, just avoiding the harness. “Good luck, Hard. See you on the other side, yeah?”

She turned and bounced ahead, her own harness hidden under the security barding. I carefully skulked behind her, keeping to shadows as we approached the sealed door. Bone took a few moments to control her breathing, taking in a few deep breaths before slamming a hoof into her nose.

With a crunch, blood began to run from a nostril and stain her white coat. She reared up and began to hammer on the door, screaming like the Pony of Shadows was at her tail. The light above the door flicked from red to green and the lock slid open with a squeal of metal.

“Help me! Goddesses help me-e-e!” she wailed, the door swinging outwards to a confused slaver.

Without missing a beat, Bone hurled herself at the slaver and continued to thrash and wail, avoiding the slaver’s attempts to hold her still. The stallion shouted for quiet, only to be drowned out by her screams for salvation. Eventually, he pushed her away and back towards the door.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“He’s gonna kill me!”

“Who? The slaver brought up the stun baton in his magic, making my job that much easier.

“He went feral!” Bone screamed, scrabbling to get to her hooves and to the control panel.

The slaver, thankfully being too stupid to think beyond an immediate threat, slowly moved towards the entrance. He managed to squeak before I pulled him into the hall, his neck snapping as I swung and twisted it in one cruel move. I threw the stun baton out and up to Bone, the other slaver falling onto the floor from the terminal with a new hole in her neck.

“You ready to go?” Bone called as I trotted out. “That went almost too well.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” I replied, smiling. “Oh, and if you see a feral ghoul, don’t forget to scream.”

Bone grinned and took off towards the antenna, crying bloody murder. I gave her a few seconds headstart before giving chase, pulling on the toggle of the harness. I felt an icy chill as a blend of combat drugs were injected straight into my system. To her credit, as much as I don’t want to admit it, Bone could rival even the greatest of party animals of my time for getting the perfect drug cocktail ready.

She happily called the mixture Raider’s Punch: combining the effects of Stampede for combat prowess, additional painkillers to assist with injury ignorance, Mint-Als for heightened awareness through it all. What she didn’t mention, and what I noticed immediately, was the spice of Dash to boost my reaction time through all the relaxants.

It felt like every muscle in my body had suddenly bulked at twice their size and then vanish. Sensation was stripped away beyond what I could see and hear, though even then it felt like I was in a swimming pool. Everything cranked into high gear, my heart thrashing inside my chest as the adrenaline hit on top of everything else, colours blurring into one another as my head tried to keep up with everything else.

The Dash hit. My world slowed to a reasonable speed, like a movie being played in slow motion. More than enough time to soak in every detail and plot a route for the most carnage. I continued after Bone for a while, turning off once enough slavers had noticed my presence. The camp was too far for me to invade directly, plus being rather suicidal for such an attempt, but there was a resting area of some sort which had just enough slavers for a feral ghoul to be tempted by.

The world sat still for just a breath, but to me it felt like an eternity. In front of me, the horrifying mask of the harlequin appeared and bowed. I watched, partially in amazement and partially in grotesque joy, as it performed a dance across each of the six slavers that had just taken notice of me. There was an animalistic grace to the kills it made, all the beauty of a predator toying with its play.

I decided to play copycat.

I have no idea how quickly I moved, nor in the manner I did. Each hoofstep was barely felt, even as I swerved to and fro to dodge the muzzle flashes of gunfire, only the growing detail I saw told me I moved closer. The first slaver, who came at me with a tire iron, ended with the weapon jammed into his skull. I threw the body towards the others, seeing splotches of red thrown into the air as he took the brunt of the gunfire.

Five left. Slaver number two came at me with a battered looking pistol, firing a shot too close to avoid. I barely felt it tear its way through my leg and ricochet off the bone, instead seeing my terrifying visage in her eyes. My right hoof came up and slammed the underside of her jaw, teeth shattering on the metal mouth piece of the gun.

Shards of white fell as did the weapon, her scream cutting short as I felt an urge to clamp my own jaw onto her throat. There was no blood like with the harlequin, but I earned the same heady warmth from crushing her windpipe and throwing her to one side. The body slammed into the table she was sat at moments before, something beneath it applauding the throw.

I was enjoying this far too much to give a damn.

Three and four attacked the same time, now realising the danger of going alone. A baseball bat slammed into my ribs as another went for my head. I brought my head under the blow slowly, like I was avoiding a clothes line, and leapt over number four. The fifth slaver was halfway through reloading a familiar double-barrelled shotgun before I swept her off her hooves.

Her head cracked on the solid table, hard enough to take her out of the fight for the time being. Number three took another swing at my unguarded flank and I felt my leg wrench in a way it shouldn’t. He earned a solid kick to the face followed up by being pinned to the floor. The first blow had broken his nose, the next five pulverised the rest of his face.

Four squeaked as I grabbed the bat, shoving the thinner end into her eye. A quick turn around sent her spinning with a hefty blow to the temple. I threw the weapon at number six who said something about me not being feral. I could barely understand what was being said as I killed him, watching as his coat was slowly stained red with both of our wounds.

My ear twitched as I heard more shouts from the camp, ten more slavers pouring out as Rusty appeared from above. She barked orders, pointing with her one good talon as underlings did as they were bid. For a brief moment, she hung in perfectly clarity: the off white facial feathers clashing with the ashen grey body, metal claw brown with blood.

Three more slavers came at me, jeering and cheering as my collar fell from my neck. One deep breath and the rain poured down the empty street. Three zebra assassins raced towards me, one drawing a rusted pistol, the shots cracking through the air. I raced to meet them, letting loose an involuntary growl as my lungs wheezed for air.

I met the first zebra, throwing their cloak back and slamming a hoof into their face. The second came from behind as I span and drove their short sword into my side. The blow was mistimed, slicing instead of piercing and giving me an opportunity to counter. Two swift blows to the head, their skull bouncing off the ground as the slaver’s jaw broke.

“That ain’t feral!” a zebra assassin shouted, turning tail from the fight back into the dwindling night of Manehatten.

“In the name of Equestria, halt!” I yelled, stomping as the other two lay bleeding on the floor.

The sound of sirens wailed in the night, telling me help was on the way. Only, it wasn’t help for me. I looked back at the two assassins, and found them to be just party-goers – now beaten within an inch of their lives. I gasped and rasped at the burn in my throat, the acrid taste of Dash still on my taste buds.

The image was rapidly replaced with the floor as I took a blow to the head, my whole body suddenly sending me into a spin. I fought back an urge to vomit a realised something else about ghouls. It took a great deal of drugs to get us to a usable high, but that meant the comedown arrived that much faster and that much harder.

I swung back around to avoid the next blow, the fifth slaver slamming the bat down on me again and again in place of Clean’s shotgun. I took a few hits to the legs, knowing that I could bear the pain there more than a blow to the face. A moment appeared, and I wrenched the weapon away, headbutting the mare and flipping the pin over. I brought my hooves down on her, a small part in the back of my head suddenly audible and begging me to stop for a moment and realise what was going on.

It distracted me long enough to feel the ice in my stomach. I looked down and saw a knife in my gut. It slowly slid out and I fell to one side, suddenly unable to keep myself upright. My eyes hazed over as I tried to focus on the form slowly walking towards me. The slaver began to say something before taking a single shot to the head, body twitching once.

“I told your boss after that collar fiasco, this one is mine. Even if he has gone feral, he’s still my prey. Good afternoon, ghoul, how are we today?”

I gurgled a reply, tasting copper. His voice sounded like it was underwater, yet strangely clear as it bubbled through the pain. I tried to focus on my breathing, to push warmth towards the aching hole in my torso, but it all failed against the pull of the drugs still being pumped around my system. It all hurt so good.

“You know, I heard a funny story the other day,” Septic’s blurry form began to pace around me. “I heard about a ghoul in Fillydelphia who took on a tin can and, against all odds, lived. He talked his way out of being shot by selling out a casino nearby, promising the tin can riches they could only imagine. Apparently, the ghoul called himself The Sparking Ghost, which is a fantastic name in my opinion.

“I wish more ponies took on dramatic names like that. I’ve heard of a few old legends: Sentinel, the Ghost Herd, Watcher, the Mysterious Mare-do-Well. Those are names that will echo through the centuries, just like those old stories. They’re just like balloons, remember how I like balloons? They’re always sailing high in the sky, close but far out of reach.

“I like them because they give me a goal to achieve. I’ve killed many things, but I’ve never killed a legend before. Let alone a Ghost,” I felt the heat of his breath on my ear, making me shiver from the invasiveness of the action. “Goodbye, ghoul, I’d say it was fun but you’ve really disappointed on this turn out.”

A klaxon wailed, taking Septic’s attention. He moved out of my line of sight, shouting something muffled to a blurry nopony. I tried to crawl away while my body screamed from the effort, feeling dirt stick to my torso as more fluids were pumped out. I couldn’t feel anything from the cold now, only the surrounding sensations.

Something in the distance exploded, and a body fell in front of me. I tried to wipe away at the imaginary blur, my vision suddenly bursting into crystal clear focus as I saw the face of an unfamiliar pony, their face locked in a silent scream of terror. Their body lay a few inches away. I tried to crawl past them, and then realised where the explosion had come from. They were wearing an outfit similar to the skin-tight under-barding of a Steel Ranger, though with a damaged battle saddle attached to their back.

My ribs were in agony, threatening to puncture something vital after they had cracked. I heard Septic reload and fire another round. This one burrowed into my back, ripping and tearing its way through my body until it exited the undead flesh. This one I felt.

This one made me scream.

“Oh shut up,” Septic groaned. “Well, now I know why you took those slavers on, you little shit. Distracting us from the real problem, keeping my attention all on a stupid ghoul. Clever pony, not clever enough though. Stop squirming!”

Another scream as something white hot burst into my shoulder, taking a spray of blood with it. I could barely think past the pain, and prayed that the painkillers had already worn off. Else it was only going to get worse once they did. I gurgled as Septic dragged me up, staring me in the eye as I bled and feebly tried to break free.

“Look at you. You’re a disappointment, ghoul, a failure. Good for one thing and you can’t even do that right. I wanted a fight, a real fight, but this was a pathetic display. So I’m going to leave you here, in your own piss and blood, and let you reflect on what a disappointment you’ve been,” his face was a mask of disgust, looking down on me. “Die slowly, filth.”

“Wastelander!” a tinny voice barked, somewhat familiar. “Step away from the ghoul and drop your weapons. I do not want to-”

The Ranger never finished their sentence. There was a brief scream of metal followed by a broadcast of the Ranger choking on their own blood, the armour that was supposed to protect them preventing their hooves from pushing the claw-blade from their neck. Septic made strange shushing noises as the choking slowed to gargling and finally silence, like a father putting a child to rest.

“I suppose I should make an exit. All the protagonists make a daring escape when things seem bleakest,” my eyes rattled as Septic kicked my head. “Goodbye, Hard Copy. May you find peace in wherever you end up, it’s only fair time finally catches up with you.”

I gasped as he walked away, reaching out a hoof. I never wanted to kill another pony before. I never had such an intense desire to see another pony dead, but I would have given my life there and then to give me one shot at killing him. To not leave the fight where it ended. Instead I lost out to the fading ebbs of the brew, and let out one last breath.

In those final moments, where all sensation was lost to a warm comfort, the faint sounds of battle echoed into the distance. I felt something curl around me. The world turned to blurry shapes and vague ideas of what there was, eventually melting into nothingness as tears rolled. All the anger and exhaustion from this entire ordeal was slowly stripped away until only Hard Copy remained.

Somewhere, bells jingled.

I needed to sleep.