There’s a series of old expressions that mean roughly the same thing. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Up the creek without a paddle. If you want to be crass, flank deep in the shit. Understand the general theme?

So, here I was, out of the frying pan and into shit creek without a paddle. Or a floaty.

“Friendship, Magic of. Ring any bells, zombie?” the unicorn snarled, a glow of magic reforming over one of his weapons.

“Clean! Back off for two seconds! Give it some space!” the earth pony pushed him back, gently. Clean did as he was told, and gave a sidelong look to his partner. She then turned towards my quivering self with a smile as sweet as sugar.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“That’s what he needs? TLC? Fuck me sideways,” Clean growled, stomping out of sight.

Domino shook her head, before helping me out of the life support pod, “I’m sorry about this. We’ve been searching for this… thing for months now, he’s just annoyed that it’s not what we expected. Take your time.”

I staggered out, collapsing on the ground. It took a while to work out how to stand up again, though I remained unsteady. The air felt wrong, but not uncomfortable. I murmured thanks, taking in where the pod had landed. We had smashed through the lower levels of a department store, with the top half of the building folding on itself. The remains of the wagon had pierced through to the floor below, just the broken and buckled rear sticking out.

The entire floor was covered in a layer of greasy mould, the air thick with a haze. Just old brick dust, not the ashes of the dead, no sir. Over in the corner, clearly a left-over Nightmare Night decoration. Not a real skeleton. Please.

“I’m Domino, and the grumpy unicorn is Clean Sweep. What’s your name? What were you doing inside that thing?” Domino passed me my suit, frowning at the pristine condition it was in. I was thankful for a distraction.

“Hard Copy… it was on the business cards.”

Domino held the furrowed brow, “You mean, Ministry Agents didn’t use code names? It feels like that ruins a lot of the fun.”

“Nah, that’s what we had false moustaches for,” I started to put the suit on before seeing my forelegs. “SEND ME TO THE MOON!”

“What now?!” Clean stormed back, wearing an expression like a father who had just heard a crash in the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with my leg?!” I half screamed, waving the offending limb.

Clean stared at me, before replying mostly to himself, “I ain’t believin’ this. Nope, screw it. You need me, I’ll be food huntin’.”

I wanted to fire a snarky remark about the café probably being closed given the state of the building, but my attention was taken by a full body mirror. I raced towards it, wiping away as much of the grime as I could. I let the sight steal my breath away.

In the reflection, there stood my corpse.

My mane was no more, my tail had vanished. A concerning amount of skin had fallen off inside the pod, what remained looked cracked and flaky. The muscle beneath looked dry, but still twitched with life as I moved around. Though the icing on the cake were my eyes. Once vibrant, they appeared both dull and strangely luminescent, like glow in the dark balls.

I looked to Domino, who returned it with a piteous smile. It took me a while to form the question.

“What? How?”

She sat beside me, patting a shoulder with a hidden look of repulsion, “Sometimes, ponies don’t die because of the magical radiation. They… end up like you. We call them ghouls.”

I sat in stunned silence, trying to make sense of it all, when she continued, “Did you not realise what was happening?”

I shook my head, “Last thing I remember was the pod telling me there was a seal fault. I was trapped inside that thing, and it hit me with some kind of sedative. I woke up when it said that the Ministry of Peace were nearby.”

Domino turned a shade red, gesturing to her labcoat, “Guess the ID card we picked up earlier did that. Scavengers found pods like this scattered around a while back. We had heard rumours about one being buried in this store, but nopony was willing to risk climbing inside to find out after the top floors collapsed.”

“What about the emergency message? Surely somepony heard it?”

“Oh yes, it’s where the rumour came from. A recording asking for a doctor, there are lots like it out there. Some called it the Sparking Ghost, after the store. It was only walking back where the message changed that we thought to check it out,” She smiled, at odds to the lacklustre rescue story. “Why were you in there?”

She nodded to the pod, though the term coffin seemed to fit better now.

“I was injured, took a grenade to the chest in a raid. They put me in there, next thing I knew I was in the sky being flown to a hospital. Something exploded and…” I gestured to the ensuing chaos from the crash.

Domino nodded calmly, before walking away to let me get dressed. The suit, though comforting, felt heavy. Like it was punishing me for surviving while the fates of my companions were unknown. Their faces flitted around in my memory for just a moment. I had barely survived after being inside a life support machine for the past 150 years. There was no hope that anyone else was alive after all this time. That’s when it really hit me. Agent of Laughter, the last one. I was alone.

No. I pushed those thoughts down. I had survived against all the odds, there was the chance that at least one other did as well. I did have help from the pod, but in the end, it was myself that kept me going. Somepony could have survived. Somepony must have. Domino had said that I was a ghoul, so there were others like me. I kept the mantra up as I pulled the rest of the suit on, returning to the pod to my waiting saviours.

“Righ’, now I have a real problem here.” Clean began, cracking the pod’s supply chamber open, “Y’see, I’ve just been denied somethin’ that promised to be somethin’ special. Instead of some grand prize, I got a gloomy ghoul. And that ain’t makin’ me a happy filly.”

“So what do you want? What is this Magic of Friendship you mentioned?” I replied, putting my gear in place. Earpiece, now dead, rested in an inside pocket next to the business card holder.

“No clue,” Clean grunted, pulling out several empty bottles from the machine, before taking the few drugs that remained and tucking them away. “But it’s big. Each of the Ministries had a part in it, somethin’ from the war. I know it’s here in Manehatten, where and what I need I haven’t a damn clue. Ah damn, no food left in this one.”

He gave that same grin, sending a shiver through me, “That’s where you come in. See, most folk have the good sense to not go pokin’ in Ministry Hubs. Those who don’t tend to come back. So, with a bona fide Ministry worker around to help out, I’m sure we’ll crack that first nut.”

“You want me to raid my own Ministry?”

Clean shrugged, “Have a look-see, more like. I ain’t one for pilferin’ all there is, just the big stuff. Plus, I figure you’d want a look. Last respects and all that.”

It was an opportunity to see what had become of Hoofbeats, and at least begin the search for my friends. Hell, it would be cathartic to go and look at the remains of my world before I even tried my hoof at this one. A small doubt began to creep into my head, but I swiftly stomped it out and replaced it with curiosity.

“You’re chasing something you don’t know, and want to go poking around Ministries to find it? That’s a big risk, why?”

“Ain’t your business to the whys, ghoul, only that you’re gonna do this for me,” Clean snorted. “Plus, I’ll make it worth your while. Teach you ‘bout livin’ in these here wastes, and ‘bout how to come to terms with your… predicament. Hell, I’ll even throw in some loot too. Better than me stuffin’ yur sorry ass back in there for somethin’ far nastier than me to find.”

He had a point. The odd couple did save me from my prison, and it gave me a leg up on surviving. I didn’t think much of Clean, but Domino seemed pleasant enough for the time being. Even then, I felt a sense of gloom come over me.

“You said wastes, plural.”

Domino nodded, “There isn’t much an Equestria left, I’m afraid. If it isn’t radiation, it’s taint. And it it’s neither, then you’re in Canterlot. That’s far worse.”

I grimaced, questions would have to be asked later, “Alright, I’ll show you Hoofbeats.”

Manehatten was just a name.

Sure, the streets were laid out the same, and there were plenty of stores I used to spend my lunchbreaks in, but there was no life left. No vibrancy that made the Ever-Wake city awake. We passed a corner where I used to get my morning paper, my mind showing me the newsmare waving from her small shack.

“Morning Mr Copy! Loved your piece in yesterday’s Times! I heard you co-wrote next week’s Jack & Jill, always love that comic!”

I frowned, trying to recall more than a voice and a vague suggestion of what she looked like. I only really registered the cap and apron she wore, grilling hay burgers as a breakfast alternative. It dawned on me that I never learned her name.

With so many buildings collapsed, and a lack of transport, it was going to take us the better part of a day to get to Hoofbeats. Didn’t help that I was moving like a newborn foal on top of that. Clean vocalised his disappointment greatly, but was still patient with my trips and tumbles. He and Domino were gracious to fill me in on the more important events of the last one-hundred and fifty years. Most ponies who were around today had descended from the initial survivors, carving out a living in the less irradiated parts of Equestria. Anywhere far enough from the major population centres. Around seventy years before I woke up, some of the Stables had opened to the wastes, bringing a new wave of confused survivors to the fray.

“So the Arcane Science Hub survived here?”

“It’s now called Tenpony Tower, it’s where Clean was born,” Domino sat, waiting for me to drag myself up a decent pile of rubble.

“Ain’t where I belong though, too up themselves for my likin’”, the unicorn grumbled, looking out over the area, “Damn unpleasant sort.”

I reached the top of the rubble, holding a hoof to my eyes to dim the light as a spot of unfiltered sunlight winked through. Clouds blanketed the sky, as if all the pegasi had closed up shop until further notice. When I brought it up with my two saviours, they said that they had never met a pegasus in their lives. Neither had their parents, nor grandparents. Now that was worrying. I had heard rumours about some pegasi looking to secede from Equestria after heavy losses and demands of weather control. Had they gone ahead?

“Most likely,” Clean grumbled when I asked, “If’n they were plannin’ on it, I ain’t one to assume the better nature of the folk of the past. Ya’ll were too busy blowing up one ‘nother to notice a lot of things.”

“Like what?” I mean, investigating matters at home was my job. Hindsight is a useful tool.

The unicorn motioned to the ruins we over looked, “There’s a lot, an’ I mean a lot of real fucked up stuff from the war. Secrets from the Ministries an’ so on. Secrets the Ministries kept from one another. Ain’t surprised those who could run, did.”

I frowned, studying the stallion carefully, “What sort of secrets?”

He caught my eye, and gave an evil smile, “Oh, ya gonna find out soon enough.”

We continued our journey in strained silence, stopping in the remains of a café for the night. I made myself useful, clearing a space in the floor for our group to sleep. Domino spent time picking through the cupboards and the pantry, no-longer locked shut after a bit of shotgun work from Clean. It was a practiced motion from the two, he blasted the lock free while she kicked the door open. Anything lurking inside would have two barrels of steel and a fine array of knives in them before they could let out a squeak.

“How long have you two been travelling together?” I asked as Domino watched a can of creamed corn on a small fire. I couldn’t tell what song she half-sung to herself.

“About six months now, but we’ve known each other longer,” she carefully moved the can from the heat, wiping her hooves on the lab coat, “Why do you ask?”

“Reminds me of work. That kind of practiced movement.”

Domino looked up, away from the piping hot food, “Work? You must have been in a few fights then.”

I shrugged, “Not as many as you think. Most collaborators didn’t put up a fight when we came knocking. If we needed grunts, we’d take on soldiers who weren’t on an active tour. It takes more than just fancy hoofwork and a gun to be an Agent. You need to show folks a good time to be part of the Party Ponies.”

“Be mighty concerned if ya offered to show me a good time,” Clean grumbled, taking a seat next to Domino by the fire. He tenderly poked at it with a stick, waving the heat away from his hoof as he threw it on the pile.

My nose wrinkled, “I’ll have you know I stopped that service after the pie incident.”

Domino let the tiniest of giggles slip before catching herself. She looked to me first, then to Clean before continuing with a clean and wonderous laugh. The unicorn slipped into a smile as well, adding a chuckle. A hip flask floated out of his clothes, opening and pouring a swig into his mouth.

“Pie?!” Domino shook her head, shaking the laughter away.

“What? Never had a bad run in with pie before?” I grinned, only a little conscious of how toothy it would be now.

“Can’t rightly say I have,” Clean mused, a frown forming. “Ain’t too sure I’ve had pie in a long time, now.”

Domino waved a hoof in the air, trying to clear away her laughter. “Ok, what happened?”

I settled, moving so I had my forehooves ready, “It’s a long one, so get ready.

“It was my second year at Manehatten, and we were chasing a rumour about a group called the Honeytraps. They would lurk in bars and danceclubs, lure in military folks and try to extort secrets through blackmail. Wasn’t doing wonders for the local entertainment districts, ponies were worried about going out and having a good time. It was up to me and Team Frosting to take them out.”

I began to weave the tale, finding the flow of words after a short while. My voice, though sounding like a rusty motor chugging unhealthily, had become less of a shock to me. It felt like I was back in the office, simply telling the other teams about my day and this wasteland was just a nightmare. I was going to wake up soon inside a hospital with doctors telling me that it was touch and go, but mission complete.

Of course, what I fantasised and what is real are two very different things.

“… so then, I hold the empty dish across my nethers and say, ‘I’ve heard of a sticky situation, but thi-’ oh, hello,” I paused, looking at the three figures stood in the doorway. The light of the fire blocked out any discernible features, but I felt a nagging tingle in my spine that they were bad news.

Clean immediately rolled away from Domino, springing up with shotguns at the ready. He reacted a little too slowly, and yelped as he took a shot across the foreleg. Two of the newcomers raced towards Domino, trying to pin her to the ground. I didn’t see the rifle held at the back at first, but I spotted the other two were armed and ready.

The two racing forward were sat at odds with my idea of a pony. While still in perfect pastel tones, one a lovely sunshine yellow, and the other a sky blue, there was a sickness to the coats. They were dirtied, turning the yellow a more bile-like colour and the blue into a darker and menacing hue. This was little compared to the random assortment of metal strapped to themselves as makeshift armour, rusted in places and flecked with what I hoped was brown paint.

The bile coated mare earned a knife to the throat for her efforts, Domino slipping another out and ramming it up into the soft underside of her attacker’s jaw. The second grabbed Domino by the hind legs and began to pull, a pistol stuck to her head. Domino shifted, trying to kick at him but couldn’t find the right angle for any damage. The pistol pressed harder against her.

The unicorn gave an evil grin. Not cold, like Clean’s, but full of wicked mirth, “You’re gonna make for real good ruttin’ with an extra hole in your head!”

My weapon found its way into my mouth, and barked twice as I fired at Clean’s attacker. The first shot sparked off the poorly made rifle in his teeth, the second finding his skull cleanly and punching a hole through. There was a brief look of surprise, like he had just registered that I existed at all at that moment. His body dropped and another shot fired off, his tongue having just enough twitch to fire it away.

I readied myself for the unicorn, who hesitated between shooting myself and the struggling Domino. He didn’t see the shotgun come up behind him. Brain matter exploded into the floor. Domino gave a shriek as she pulled her legs up, checking them for damage.

“Dom, you ok?” Clean groaned, pulling himself up. He gave me a death glare before limping over to the mare. She nodded, looking him over.

“You’re hit, let me see.” she began to dig through her saddlebags, pulling out bandages and wrapping them around his leg. “Just a scratch, we’ll have to take a look at it in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Clean turned his attention to me, glaring, “Mind explainin’ what the hold-up was?”

I opened my mouth a few times, with no sound escaping. Adrenaline still had a good hold on me. Clean grunted as he put weight on the leg, testing it.

“We nearly got got! See someone, don’t start chattin’, start shootin’,” Clean snorted before turning away, digging through the items of our attackers. Domino carefully stood up, wiping off the gore before looking over. She gave me a quizzical look, to which I nodded.

“I’m ok. Just nerves. What the hell was that about? Who does that?!”

“Raiders, probably.”

“Raiders?”

There was a thump as a corpse was thrown next to me. Clean gestured to the flank and the raider’s cutie mark. A skull with a single eyeball falling from the socket. What did this pony do to get that? What is the talent associated with it?

I looked back to Clean, his face a blend of rage and smugness, like he had just proven himself right. It dawned on me that there was a lot of anger inside this unicorn. Right now, that anger was pointed my way.

“What kinda ponies were around in your day, to end up with folk like this in mine? Ya’ll fucked up. Royally.”

Morning broke, though the sickly light made it hard to tell.

I had found it difficult to sleep. Not due to bad dreams, I just couldn’t close my eyes for anything restful. Guess I had slept enough over the last century and half. I spent the night keeping an eye out on the street instead, letting Clean and Domino sleep in the pantry.

The night had been suitably quiet, like a graveyard should be. A few distant pops of gunfire went off in the far distance, but I knew that they wouldn’t be an issue. The raiders’ corpses had been strewn outside the café as a clear warning to anypony investigating. I felt queasy at the work, but Clean made it look like something he’d done a thousand times before.

What had happened to my beautiful home?

Clean outright refused to talk to me, unless it was confirming directions. Domino was also quiet, but a more reflective silence rather than anything malicious. I had the feeling that the two were replaying the events of the previous night, and that this was first time in a long while they had dropped their guard. It was a grim reminder. There wasn’t going to be a safe bed for a long time ahead, even in my own city.

A short while later, we came across a familiar sight. Though the windows were long gone, I could still feel the thump-thump of the bass deep in my chest. The cheers of the crowd as the DJs spun both the soft and melancholic rhythms of Sweetie Belle, and the pulse pounding, nosebleed tracks of seedier clubs.

“It’s just like me,” I smiled, looking at the old skyscraper.

“Rotting, old and a husk?” Clean replied, looking over the area with a weather eye. He looked to me and my no-doubt charming smile.

“Yeah, but still alive deep down.”

We approached Hoofbeats carefully, hooves crunching on long broken glass. The heartbeat of Manehatten was stilled. No mess of colour moving in delight. No scent of alcopops and cider, blended with the more illicit substances snuck in. The DJ platform still hung from the ceiling, nopony to use the tables again. No noise.

It felt so wrong. This was the home of joy, of laughter, of life. I hunted for the source, the one thing that made Hoofbeats a home instead of a building. The spark had to be hidden away, waiting to come out once again.

I remember my first time in Hoofbeats, as a visitor rather than on my way to work that is. DJ PON3, the on-air character of Vinyl Scratch, remixing live, with Pinkie herself directing the party procession. A sea of colour moving in unison, feeling so very alive. Alcohol on constant flow, mares and stallions intertwined in both couples and friends. Tables of conversation and food, the occasional sweet being launched across the room in the name of humour, chased by the ecstasy of laughter as it found its mark.

Gentle Giant and Gadget both carrying me home, all three of us drunk as skunks. I proclaimed there and then that I would be the first stallion to host a party at Hoofbeats, something that had never occurred before. Though it was laughed off at the time, and somepony else beat me to the punch, I still dreamed that one day I would be the headliner. Lack of musical talent be damned.

It wasn’t meant to be. Not then, and not when the crowd is the skeletons of ponies caught in the firestorm. They had been cooked alive, begging to be set free as the world died around them. My mind came back to the room, Clean holding me back in his magic grasp.

In a dazed, desperate, and angry attempt to find that old life once again, I had turfed several broken tables over. I gazed at the new destruction of my home, feeling a deep shame bubbling inside. I had acted the fool here once again, this time so much worse than before. My body slumped to the floor, Domino giving my hoof an affectionate pet.

Clean seethed with anger, “Are you gonna be like this the whole way though? ‘cause I ain’t keen on pullin’ yur sorry flank back to reality every ten minutes.”

I shook my head, while Domino shot a look. There was a brief moment of tension, as if the two were having a silent fight for control over the situation. To my surprise Clean sighed, giving a look that almost seemed understanding.

“Alrigh’. Lead on zombie. Anythin’ that’ll help.”

I wiped the congealing tears from my eyes. “First stop, my Team’s floor. I want to pay respects.”

I could have walked this path with my eyes closed. The mould and rot washed away, the walls coming back to life with bright and cheerful wallpaper. Pinkie’s smiling face appeared, reminding that everyone deserves to smile in these dark days. If only she knew.

We continued a short way, the way impeded thanks to the remains of a giant scooter carving a decent chunk into the building. Thankfully my team’s office was on the other side of the building, but it made getting upstairs harder. We took several detours, slowly picking our way through the offices.

I was beginning to see why these places were considered off limits to most ponies. Twice we encountered the defence systems, which had been kept offline while there were security ponies to stand guard. Those owls are terrifying when activated. Great metal animals screeching ‘WHO’ as they race towards you is not something I’d seek out most days. The situation only became stranger, when it realised that I still worked there and gave a verbal slap on the hoof.

“You’re late, WHO! Miss Pie will be very upset, WHO!” he taunted, fluttering as he kept up. The owl had followed us since the second floor, eyes glaring but remaining a friendlier yellow. I glanced at my companions, both of them standing a considerable distance from us both.

“Think I’ll be fired for this?” I rolled my eyes, head bobbing to our escort.

Clean smirked, “That’ll be wishful thinkin’.”

A few precarious moments where the floor had rotted to the one below, and we had made it. Team Frosting remained on the door, now coated in a thick layer of dust. I gave it a wipe, trying to show pride again, before opening the door.

It felt like my first day all over again. The sense of trepidation as the door swung inwards. The low murmur of terminals. The scream I gave over the sound of party horns as I was covered in confetti, and had a hat attached.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome
A fine welcome to you…”

The whole team sang as I descended from the doorframe, all with deliriously happy smiles. The door was decorated with streamers and photos from my days of training, including one concerning photo of me playing volleyball in sunglasses. A huge banner stretched across the back of the room, Welcome to Our Team, Hard Copy!

“… Team Frosting to-daaaaaaay!” the mass of white (which turned out to be an earth pony) finished with a beautiful bass note, complete with a moss green unicorn firing off sparks.

“You must be Hard Copy! Welcome to Team Frosting!” a pegasus mare shook my hoof energetically, “I’m the party planner, Hope! You already know the mare by the punch, Golden Days. She’s our boss, and the best one ever. The massive stallion by her is Goliath, but we just call him Gol. He’s our contraband and supplies officer.”

The two nodded in turn, raising their cups as my two dearest friends began their introductions. A unicorn mare, with a set of goggles resting just on top of her horn, flashed me a smile. She grabbed my hoof with her two, shaking hard enough to take me off the ground.

“Aam Gadgit, an' thes is Gentle Giant. We're th' technical side ay th' team, if ye need somethin' fixed, bloon up, ur some fireworks, we're yer ponies,” she gestured to the muscled mass of white who simply nodded, a polite smile on his face. “Lookin' forward tae workin' wi' ye, an' I'll shaw ye aroond th' city. When th' striped bastards gie us a chance!”

“Group photo!” Hope sang, pulling the four of us together before the flash of a camera.

The illusion melted away, and I stood looking at the remains of the office. A few terminals remained, two with the flicker of life. A single, massive skeleton sat in a chair, head set to one side. The skeleton faced the doorway, watching the owl fly off into the empty offices.

The chair creaked in the wind, glass had blown inwards from the shockwave and ensuing firestorm. Knowing him, he’d sat there sending what messages he could to make sure we were all safe. I only hoped that the charring of the bones came after he died, the damage coming clear as I approached. Even in death, he still towered over me.

“S-sorry I’m late, Gen… traffic was awful, and the doc said I needed bed rest. Guess I took it a little too literally.”

The bones felt cold, and unbearably heavy until Domino came to my side. She silently helped me move them, lying them down into a rag that Clean provided. I looked to the cantankerous unicorn, trying to read his thought process. He stiffened, looking around for an escape before sighing.

“I need you, ghoul. Consider this somethin’ of an upfront payment. I’m a hard ass, I’ll be expectin’ a lot and I will run you into the ground. But I ain’t a monster. Do what you need to here, then we get to it.”

I nodded and finished laying the bones down. It felt strange, not having a word to say when now was the time to talk. A proper funeral would come later. I took a moment of silence to collect myself, then moved to my old station. Just like training, there was a time for switching it all off.

The motivational cat pictures and old Sparkle-Cola poster were mid-way into rot, the magic mixed into the ink still holding the images long after they should’ve burnt away. It’s weird what survives and what doesn’t. Silly poster telling me to “hang in there” survives magical hell, but a stallion of unrivalled talent and ability gets cooked just four feet away.

My terminal still hummed with life. A few taps and I was logged in. The clock-in screen came complete with an angry Pinkie Pie, telling me I had missed a lot of work. Out of habit, I went straight to mail service.

Two new messages, one automatically sent when I was injured. It was mostly the policies and details of what would happen if I died, as well as a notification for Golden to be aware I was off duty for a long period. Wonder how the insurance teams would react with me in this state.

I sent it to the bin and opened up the second, smiling. I had no way of listening to it now, so I moved on to archived mail. Hundreds of now ancient conversations flicked up on screen, each vying for my attention. Goliath’s surprise birthday party, Gadget’s weekly grumble about not doing correct maintenance of our gear, Golden’s monthly party review. It felt good to be reread all these old stories, just to pretend everything was normal once again.

“Hard? Clean’s found something.”

I looked up, Domino gesturing to follow. I put it off, those messages could wait. We trotted over to Golden’s desk, Clean frowning at the screen. He looked up at me.

“Was left unlocked, doubt that a Ministry Agent wouldn’t have a password on. What’s a DC-pad?”

Looked like Golden managed to get some sort of forewarning before the bombs hit. She never left her terminal unlocked even when just standing up to stretch, “No clue, why?”

He pointed to the on-screen message.

As requested by the Ministry, Stable-Tech have finished the development of the prototype DC-pads. Each team will be issued one for further testing to check that it meets standards. This is an excellent opportunity for further investigation techniques, saving a great deal of individual cracking time. Please respond to this message with your choice of agent to carry the item, and the automated system will update accordingly.

The DC-pads are held in storage cell B.

“Sounds like somethin’ useful. Let’s go get it.”

I shook my head, “If the owls are active, then so is the rest of security. Unless you want to take on a vault full of roboponies, I need to put a formal request through.”

“Will anypony be on the other end to receive it?” Domino rested her hooves on the desk.

“All automated.”

“Mind doin’ the honours?” Clean stood up, taking a look around the room as he did.

I took his place, tapping in my name and ID number. I added a few other details, mostly out of habit, while Domino looked on.

“I don’t understand him.”

Domino blinked, “What do you mean?”

“I know I haven’t made things easy, but he goes from rage to kindness on the spin of a bit. Is he always like this?” I looked away from the green screen.

Domino shook her head, “No. He has a lot to be angry about, I don’t blame him. But he also sees himself in you, in a way. New to this world, confused. You’re doing things he grew out of years ago.”

Warmth moved to her eyes, “But you’ve made him smile. That’s something impressive in itself.”

I paused for a moment, smiling a little. I had a lot to process, and not a lot of time to do it. Yet, Clean had saved me and gave me the benefit of the doubt. Even if he needed reminding from Domino to do so.

I typed a second request and hit send. Shortly after, a message came back with a code for unlocking the storage box. With any luck, there was something still down there to collect. It was also a testament to Stable-tech’s durability, even the servers were still ticking to this day.

“Okay, let’s see what’s inside the mystery box.”

The descent was uneventful. A few more security bots approached, each reprimanding me for my tardiness, but nothing came of the encounters. A quick reminder of who I was, and a lie that my guests were waiting for passes, we could walk unimpeded. Eventually, we came to the secure vaults, where I turned to the others.

“Okay, this is where I need to leave you. If the security system is still working down there and we trip it,” I took a sharp breath, moving my hoof across my neck. Domino and Clean nodded, the stallion not hiding his reluctance. With any luck, the vaults downstairs were still untouched.

I carried on alone, rehearsing the code numbers needed to get by security. It was a recent change from living ponies to the new Robronco robots back during the war, and they creeped me out in the full light of Equestria. Tartarus knows what they’d look like in the hazy gloom of post-apocalypse Manehatten.

Glowing green eyes watched my descent, as the vaguely pony shaped bodies rolled around on wheels. Obscenely leathal weapons swivelled, tracking my movements with terrifying precision. Two of the robo-ponies turned to look at me. If somepony had added eye shutters or something! Just to pretend that they were alive. Not this uncanny valley weirdness!

I stood separated from the two, one locked into place as part of a security gate. It spoke in the harsh groan of synthesised voice.

“Identify.”

“Operative, Team Frosting. Hard Copy. Here to collected package 4223/b, authorisation code 7669,” I swallowed hard, waiting for the verdict. The silence was unbearable. Though, not as unbearable as being atomised I imagine.

“Confirmed. Procced to row 5, then row 2.”

I let out a breath as the gate rumbled open, the metal catching and squeaking at points. I hurried through to the vault, moving over to row 5. The housing was massive, at one point containing an obscene amount of confiscation contraband and zebra drugs. most ended up missing under pretence of being tested for medical applications, but it was just the nature of the job. Some ponies loved to party, others knew that bribery of prohibited goods could make lips considerably looser.

Row 5 consisted of more safes, with a few loose items here and there. It took some time to find the safe mentioned in the mail, but with a few clicks it was open. Inside was a small black device. It was not unlike the pipbucks Stable-Tech were advertising. Though this one was considerably thinner and had no way of attaching to my leg.

I poked at the device, wincing at the green light that flashed up. The Stable-Tech logo flashed up, followed by a balloon slowly filling up. The balloon expanded until it burst, changing the screen. Text scrolled along, giving a selection of modes.

Welcome to the Ministy of Morale DeCrypt-Pad. Please Select

>Decrypt

>Storage

>Map

I felt the smile coming, this would be very useful. I tucked it inside my suit pocket before moving over to my second prize. Soon after, I was trotting back to the concerned pair sat at the top of the stairs. Clean gave me an impatient look.

“Finished?” I nodded in response, showing him the pad, “That’s it? Righ’, we’ll see what it can do. Where’d y’think we should- are you wearin’ socks?”

I looked at my hindlegs, which were now covered in a fine pair of black socks. A few small wires connecting something on the sole of the hoof to a small gem on the insides.

“Yes. They’re MAS experimental kinetic storage weapons,” I replied, soaking up the blank looks. “Also known as Datplacers by the test group.”

“Datplacers?” Domino asked, frowning.

I walked over to a nearby table, “Yes, Datplacers. It takes something from dis-place…”

I bucked the table with all my might, feeling the metal connectors hit the wood perfectly. There was a slight “womph” as my hooves hit. The table soared down the corridor, smashing at a far wall.

“… and moves it to Datplace.”

I took pride in the looks from my companions, shuffling to ease an itch, “They’re not the most comfortable of things, and it’ll take a while for them to recharge again. I also grabbed more ammo for myself, plus a few smaller goodies for the road.”

Clean nodded, “Righ’. Now, the Magic of Friendship. Let’s git to it.”

I led them back upstairs and into the records storage. If there was anything regarding the Magic of Friendship, there would be a paper trail somewhere. I left Domino and Clean to their work in the main office, explaining the bizarre method of organisation that Pinkie once subscribed to. While they busied themselves with a physical search, I made my way to one of the few working terminals and got to work.

The DC-pad connected to the terminal easily, a short cable attaching the two. The small balloon icon appeared on the pad’s screen, slowly filling and letting air out on repeat. After ten minutes, the balloon expanded and popped in a shower of confetti. A scroll of text informed me I now had access. A decent amount of mail came up, and I had no clue whether any of it would be useful. Same muck, new century.

I let my mind wander as I scrolled through heaps of useless information, slowly checking each and every line for hidden messages and double meanings. If we had something like this back during the war, it could’ve changed our information gathering drastically. Just plug in and unload all those secrets, proving innocence without the messy investigations and accusations. It was too good to be true.

I sighed after checking off a message about new subscription to Hooficures Monthly. This felt almost wrong. It always felt off when in an investigation, peeking into the private home lives of ponies. Yet it was an unfortunate necessity. Only the really strange enjoyed this side of the work. I would much prefer writing articles for the local papers and the raids themselves. One side was calming and gentle, the other bringing that combat rush I had missed from the front lines.

Then there were the parties. The look of undeniable joy on a filly’s face when Pinkie came to visit, or the carefree smile of an elderly couple as we celebrated their anniversary. Worth every bullet, every awkward conversation. Every scream.

Something flicked into my glazed vision, bringing my attention back.

Subject: Memory Orb Storage Updates

Miss Pie would like to remind archive staff that orbs of importance are to be taken offsite for further storage. This is a simple precaution to prevent several high security projects from being leaked in the unfortunate, and unlikely, event of orbs being lost. As such, the following orbs are set for immediate transfer with associated materials:

Inquiry 54226/a – Four (4) orbs. Accompanying materials: One (1) letter, One (1) audio confession. Location: Shattered Hoof Re-Education Facility.

Project 132/b – One (1) orb. Accompanying materials: One (1) audio file, One (1) blueprint docket. Location: Ministry of Morale Canterlot Hub.

Project 103 (Codename Magic of Friendship) – Six (6) orbs. Accompanying materials: One (1) case containing personal affects. Location: Grand Gallop Casino.

Progress.

“Clean, Domino. I have something.”

The pair moved over to me, both looking considerably dustier. I pointed to the screen and let Clean read through. His muzzle moved slightly as he read through, turning up in a smile before back to a frown.

“A start, means that it ain’t just an ol’ pony tale,” he nodded, standing up.

Domino sighed, “We’re doing this then?”

“Damn straight. Ain’t no way I’m stoppin’ now.”

I massaged my temples, “That’s assuming that the Golden Gallop still exists.”

“It does.”

I turned as both of my companions answered in unison. Both wore bitter expressions, like the conversation had dragged up bad memories.

I hesitated, gingerly touching the hornet’s nest, “Take it you know the place?”

“Yeah… ain’t where I want to go, but needs must.”

Domino nodded, “Clean isn’t exactly welcome, but we can manage.”

“Ok. Did you find anything?” I gestured to the archives. I blinked in surprise when Clean nodded, taking out a stained binder. He flicked through the pages quickly, tapping at a letter.

“To removal personnel, blah blah blah… Miss Pie has requested that all workers taking part in the Magic of Friendship project agree to sworn secrecy. This is of utmost importance as Princess Celestia is providing the funds to the Ministry of Morale to see the project to completion. Any information about this could blah, blah, blah...” I sped read the rest of the letter, skimming over the intricate details of Pinkie’s demands. Mostly numbers relating to confetti and cake mix.

“Princess Celestia?” Domino whispered, Clean nodding.

“This is big. Still doubtin’ me, Dom?”

“It won’t be a weapon,” I pointed at Clean. “Princess Celestia detested the idea of experimental weapon development, stepped down before the really interesting things were made.”

Clean dismissed it with a snort, “Ain’t carin’ ‘bout what it is, only that it’s there and I can carry it out.”

“Alright,” this threw an interesting spin on things. It was clear that Clean wanted something to bargain with, rather than use. “So, what’s your plan for getting to the Golden Gallop? It’s a long trot to Fillydelphia.”

“Ain’t too bad, done it before. We’re gonna need help gettin’ in, and luckily enough, I got a favour to call in.” Clean made his way out of the room. “Dress up nice Dom, we got a King to visit.”

The earbud connected to the DC-Pad easily, a small antenna poking out. I sat in my old office, downloading the years of mail into my new toy. Clean and Domino busied themselves with a little bit of scavenging, trying to hunt down what they could find inside the other offices. I had asked them to restrict it to ammo and food, I didn’t like the thought of disturbing the dead by taking personal items.

I scrolled through the options on the DC-Pad, selecting the last message received by my terminal. Gentle Giant’s last words. It began with a pause, the office sounding strangely quiet. Faintly, I could hear life outside in Manehatten. My eyes closed as Gen spoke for the final time.

“Hey Hard, not sure if you’ll get this… or if anypony will, but I thought I’d say it anyway. Golden and Goliath have already left, as have most of the other teams. Just me here, waiting for Gadget to get back. We heard about you, and Hope. I know you’ll both pull through, she’s been taken to one of the cloud cities, not sure which one.

“Yeah, we knew. Everypony did, just turned a blind eye. I want to grumble, tell you off. Never mix work and pleasure, and all that, but I’d be a damn hypocrite if I told you that. You know me and Gadget got married two months back? Drunken act at Las Pegasus, but we didn’t have it in us to call it off. Figured we’d give it a shot after the big mission. Now here we are…

“Aah boy, I’m going to die. Think just talking, pretending somepony is here is helping. I don’t want to, but there’s nowhere safe to go. We found out what it was they were moving… yeah, it’s that. Pinkie gave us the head’s up, let us scramble to try to stop it. Bless that mare, I think she’s still in the building somewhere, waiting for something. Probably staying with the others to keep them calm, no sense panicking them.

Think at the end of the day, she deserves to survive all this. We all do, but after all she’s been through, all she’s done to herself in the name of laughter and smiles… I’m not angry. We’ve done some bad things, Hard. Real bad. Hurt a lot of ponies, I just hope that most realise it wasn’t easy. Never was.

“Guess that’s it, that’s all I have to say. Thought my last message would be cooler, huh? Listen, Hard. If you make it out of this, if you live through it, keep going. Keep walking with your head held high. Stand proud, do better. Find the others, make sure they’re safe. I’ll do what I can from here, but for now goodbye.

“And good luck.”

Level Up

Author's Notes:

Making of, and playlist suggestions, can be found here!