The first time I came home, I had an overwhelming feeling of disappointment.

I had been living in Canterlot for two years, the first as an intern and the second as a freelance writer. I came home after realising that freelancing sounds great when you’re in work and is hell once you’re out of it. After adjusting myself to the nature of living in a city with no money, I then had to learn how to live in a tiny textile town with debt.

There were two things that put Fetlock Fields on the map. One was the longest running family business of the town: Needle’s Threads. The Needle family came from a long line of tailors, dressmakers, designers, and business-mares who had built a clothing empire. While it was nothing compared to the highs of fashion in Canterlot, it was perfect for the pony who wanted to dress up a little more every now and then.

Most, if not all, families had a relative who worked for Sewing Needle, the head of the family. It was a tight knit community, pun unintended, built on generations of trust and innovation. While a Needle sat at the top, as always, the board was made of ponies of all walks of life. They squabbled over decisions like any other family would, even a few arguments that stained a reputation or two, but it ultimately brought everyone together.

You may think you’ve never heard of them, but if you see a pony out there wearing combat armour with a quick release knife sheath then you’re looking at Needle’s Threads’ greatest contribution to the war. There’s more to it than that, but I never found out what exactly. Loose lips ruin friendships, as well as get our side killed, so it was need to know. A supply grunt did not need to know.

There’s something about how the mighty fall, and all that nonsense, but that’s the path life took. From gossiping with high society and having afternoon tea with Prince Blueblood, to hefting crates of clothes and armour onto chariots eight hours a day. On the plus side, I certainly lost the weight I had gained from my less than stellar diet in Canterlot.

Of course, that was a far cry from sorry state I was in now.

We had been on the road for ten days in total. Just as Two Tone said, he wasn’t a miracle worker and Clean was having a great difficulty in walking let alone keeping his old pace. In pain, on a steady supply of Buck, and exhaustion made him more cantankerous than ever: snarling at anyone who did anything he slightly disagreed with. It only made the days pass by even slower.

However, he did admit my route was much faster. The roads were less travelled back in my day and the tradition had continued. Cracked but unworn, the pavement still showed the way to Fetlock Fields. I remember racing down these lanes once upon a time when I was younger, dodging the mail chariots coming in the other direction.

No chariot had made tracks here in a long time, husks of long dead mail ponies still dangled in the harnesses. Most of the cargo had long rotted away or was too burnt to be of any use, what remained I used to top up my radiation levels. It wasn’t awful tasting, I’m far too thankful I hadn’t lost that sense, but there are better things for a hungry ghoul to eat out there,

Domino had stayed quiet during the long walk, meaning I only had Two Tone to speak to if I wanted a conversation. The topic was mostly centred on him, but I didn’t mind that too much. I could tell that nerves were getting to him as he constantly checked on Clean every moment he had. Keeping him distracted kept us all sane.

“Is it much further, swinger?” he murmured for the tenth time that day.

Again, I shook my head. “We’ll be there by the end of the day. Look here.”

I took out my DC-pad for him to read, bringing up the map function. The marker for Fetlock Fields had slowly grown closer and closer. It wasn’t close enough for the group’s liking.

“Two Tone wants to be there before sundown, know what I’m saying? Swingers are tired, need to rest those weary heads,” he tried avoiding using a certain name as much as possible.

“And we’ll be there. Just a hop, skip, and jump, so move that little rump.”

“Catchy tune.”

“Don’t start,” Clean grumbled.

True to my word, we arrived an hour later. The approach had a helpful view of Needle’s Threads’ main factory, which lorded over the town. I felt my heart catch as I saw the familiar sights, now dilapidated and unloved for so long. The only comfort was that home appeared abandoned. The last thing we needed was a fight.

We made camp in an old café, that belonged to an elderly stallion named Flapjack, sweeping away the ancient shards of window from the only solid bed that remained. The years hadn’t been unkind to the small place, though there was little to scavenge from the pantry. Most of it was the standard preservative jammed food from the war. A few surviving cans of something more nutritious were devoured by the others so I settled for a bottle of Sparkle Cola.

Dinner was eaten in silence, each of us exhausted from the long walk. As normal, I volunteered for the night watch and let the others get their rest. It was almost an expectation now, but the others had no energy to contest it any more. Clean was worn to the bone with pain and drugged marching, Domino had a tired look in her eyes that betrayed her frayed nerves, and Two Tone’s morale still hadn’t recovered from the surgery.

While the others slept in a small room downstairs, I took a position in the upstairs bedroom. Looking out over the town with just the skeleton of Flapjack’s son for company, I rested my head against my hoof. Beyond the endless march of time taking its toll, very little had changed in Fetlock Fields. I could recognise certain houses and landmarks, sighing at the darkness.

I tried to bring the faces of the ponies who lived here to mind, the thousand faces I grew up seeing every day and then casually threw to one side when I sped away into a new world. By the time I was old enough to begin considering the idea, it was rare for ponies to choose to stay in their hometowns. Many set out to make something of themselves, other did it to escape.

Only a painful few seeped into sight, making me shudder until I forced them down. The horrendous feeling of guilt and my discomfort just being in the town again wasn’t something I could bring up with the others. They were all in various states of breaking down, while I had kept it all bottled up. Guess that’s the biggest difference between training and living a certain way. You know how to throw that switch, and when to flick it back.

That’s not to say that I am better at handling situations, not at all. It took months of training and hardening my mind to put myself in high stress situations and remain as cool as I could. Of course, that still cracked from time to time, but it was because I knew what the soft life was like. Clean, Domino, Two, Blue Bobbin, all of them had suffered at the whims of the wastes and lived this stress constantly. Now they were starting to crack.

It wasn’t surprising when, three hours after they had retired for the night, I heard a creak from the stairs.

“Hey Two,” I said as I felt the air move.

“That’s a good trick, swinger, they teach you that at Hoofbeats?” he joined me in staring out the window.

“No, just learned to listen. Domino would call for me, Clean would announce his arrival, you’re the only one who would leave the room,” I managed a wry smile. “That’s real magic.”

“Anything unexplained, swinger, anything unexplained,” I heard the slosh of his hip flask. It was running low. “Couldn’t sleep, thought you could use the company for a while.”

“Thanks Two, it’s better than being alone.”

There was more weight to it than that. Even as he sat there, I could see ghostly figures walking along the streets. Part of me hoped he would comment on them, proving that I wasn’t going mad, but I couldn’t point it out to him. That would be admitting I was.

“Know the feelin’ swinger, Two Tone spent many a year on the lonesome road, know what I’m sayin’?” he offered the flask, which I took with a nod. “Get all wrapped up in all kinds of nasty thoughts.”

“Yeah,” I replied half-heartedly.

“Like ponies we used to know, things we used to do,” he paused. “Homes we haven’t seen.”

I slowly set the flask down and stared at one building in particular. I could just make out the rusted shape of a telescope on the roof.

“What gave it away?”

“Written on your face, swinger, you really don’t want to be here. There’s two reasons for that kind of feelin’: you lost somepony here, or somepony lost you,” Two Tone took his flask back. “Two Tone gets the feelin’ you’ve been hit by both?”

“Yeah,” the pause lasted a little too long for him to give up there. “My dad when I moved to Canterlot, and I guess my mom and sister now.”

“Rough swinger, real rough.”

We sat in silence for a while, only marred by the occasional sip of the flask. I soon realised I was drinking far larger sips than Two, and I was sure he knew it too. If he did, he didn’t show any signs of caring.

“Swinger, Two Tone won’t push, but sitting on this won’t help nopony,” he finally said with a fatherly tone. “He’s here to listen, here to help you go home, but he won’t take another week of gloom, know what I’m sayin’? He has one pony on the edge of dependency, one pony on the edge of panic, and he’s stressin’ like there’s another Last Day comin’. You’re the only pony that’s holdin’ on, swinger, so let’s sort this out before this thing explodes.”

He had made it to the door before I responded. “A deal.”

“Hmm?”

“Tomorrow, after we search this place, I’ll go there and do it. But, I want to know something tomorrow too,” I turned my head to meet Two Tone’s eyes. “Tell me about Clean before he met Domino.”

Two Tone smiled and gave me a short nod. “Deal, swinger. See you in the morning.”

I smiled back until he left, then returned my gaze to the street. Some figures still meandered their way along the roads, one or two looking worringly real. They took no interest in the houses, making their way towards the factory in the distance.

I gritted my teeth, grinding them as I watched the shapes go about their business. How I wanted Two Tone to comment on them, to acknowledge what was happening. The Craterside ghouls had joked about seeing ghosts, but this was more than just seeing one or two tricks of light. There were things out there, and only I could see them. I spent the night watching the ponies walk through the streets I used to know.

I ignored the colourful pony looking through my telescope, and the bells that it wore.

“Something’s been here,” Clean sniffed at the ground, his eyes narrowing. “You see anything last night?”

We were stood a few houses from the café; the streets had emptied with the rising sun. Rather than the images melting with the changing of darkness to dull light, the ghosts had vanished into their homes – whether they still stood or not. There was a strange melancholy to the action, like watching them return after a long day’s work.

“Nothing worth waking you up over. They weren’t interested in the buildings,” I replied, looking at the nothing that Clean saw.

“You didn’t wake us?”

“They didn’t look threatening to me,” it wasn’t a complete lie. The things I saw last night could have all been in my head, but there was no way of telling without all hell breaking loose last night. I couldn’t risk the group’s safety because my marbles were slipping.

“That’s not the fuckin’ point, zombie,” Clean growled. “There’s somepony here. Don’t know who they are, where they are, or what they want. Should’ve woken us up so we could have a fightin’ chance.”

“We’re in no condition to fight,” Domino replied softly. We all knew who she meant by ‘we’.

Clean dismissed it with a snort but had no answer to give. Domino was right even if he didn’t want to admit it, we were hungry, thirsty and low on ammo. Not to mention how low our morale was right now – we would break like twigs in a combat situation right now.

“What are we looking for, Clean?” Domino continued, seeing how Clean and I were staring down at each other.

“No clue, just know the last pieces were sent here. Didn’t say why, but Needle’s Threads was real important,” he was sharp with his response, earning a frown from Domino. “Just gotta get in there and have a look.”

“I’d make a joke about needles in a haystack, but I think it’s a little too obvious.”

“Not wrong though, swinger,” Two Tone chimed, sighing after. “Sure there ain’t any more information? This is all a li’l too vague, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Again, that’s all I know. Mind gettin’ off my case, Two?” Clean snorted as he took the lead, the strange movements of his legs in their braces making me wince as I watched. “There’s somethin’ in there that’ll give us the next step, I know it.”

It’s strange, being a stranger in your own town. I can’t truly describe how it feels to be walking through somewhere that should feel so familiar but struck no chord of nostalgia. It was more like walking through a museum and examining the curiosities of ponies long past rather than a hero’s return.

I barely recognised the homes of my childhood friends and felt very little towards them. Like myself, most had escaped Fetlock Fields at the first opportunity that came. Some managed to find work that worked with their calling, others believed their life was worth throwing away in the millstone of war. Ultimately, I was the only one who ever came back – even if it was for a short while.

Needles’ Threads had slowly turned from landmark to colossus, towering over us all in its dilapidated splendour. Two Tone gave me a quick look, eyes full of understanding, and Clean led us into the shadow and towards the entrance.

The door made a near-silent woosh as it opened. Dust flew into the air, angry at the new arrivals. Whoever was in town hadn’t come this way. Nopony had been here any time recently: skeletons littered the floor, while the remains of display outfits rotted away on yellowed mannequins. The light from outside did little to penetrate the darkness, forcing Two Tone to light our way past the entrance hall. I tried to ignore the skeleton slumped at the welcome desk as I removed the ammo from its pistol.

There was a rattle from the corner, making me jump out of what little skin remained. Two Tone shook his head from the corner, tapping at the door on one side of the room.

“Locked, ain’t goin’ this way any time soon.”

“Doesn’t matter, this way,” Clean replied, walking towards a set of double doors. They groaned in protest as we opened them to still air. A corridor loomed ahead, grimy doors and windows sat watching the bones of other ponies. I felt a pang of guilt as I looked at the bones, while Clean snorted at the sight.

“Need to search these rooms, find some sort of paperwork.”

“Not the manager’s office?” Domino asked, looking at the stencilled writing on frosted glass. “It’s always in the last office in the building anyway.”

“Sounds about right, ain’t like I have somethin’ that’ll tell us where it is though.”

Two Tone trotted past Clean. “Just keep openin’ these doors until we find what we need, right swinger?”

The door swung out towards him, only to rapidly close again. The speed slowed at the last second, closing with a whisper quiet click. Two Tone’s wore an expression that had been caught between terror and amusement. He turned and looked at a nearby set of bones, eyes growing wider, before he nodded once.

“Well, swingers, looks like we ain’t alone here,” he said in a distant voice. He threw a bone to Clean, which was caught neatly in his magic. Clean carefully examined the yellowed remains, sucking in a breath. I could see teeth marks.

“Ferals,” Clean hissed. “Stay quiet, don’t open anythin’ without really thinkin’ about it.”

Images of Craterside feasting on the residents of Manehatten gave chase to the sickening realisation in my head. This wasn’t a removed idea, something that happened to another pony in another time in another place. This atrocity took place in a building I was far too familiar with, in the town I grew up in, to the ponies I knew. That thought along was almost impossible to understand, to wrap my mind around.

“Ponies don’t eat other ponies!” Tarlung’s voice shrieked.

That was enough for me to come back to the corridor. They weren’t ponies, they were ferals. They weren’t the mutated, insane, twisted neighbours I used to have. They were some foul by-product of megaspells that now infested Equestria. That was the mantra I used.

“Clean, here.”

Domino motioned for us to join her, pointed at a sign for the manager’s office, and made a swift movement for the doors. We returned to the lobby and made for the locked door, Two Tone grumbling as he studied the lock with Domino.

“Can’t do this blind, swinger, know what I’m sayin’? Two Tone needs somethin’ to pick it with.”

“Sorry Two, fresh out of lock picking sets,” I kicked a loose tile and looked around. “Anything else you can use?”

“Clean, do we still have that screwdriver? And Two, I need a bobby pin,” Domino moved the singer to one side, examining the lock in great detail.

Lockpicking was never my forte, it was the unicorn agents’ job. If there was a locked door with somepony like me around, we knew a way around or we didn’t require subtlety. If Morale was knocking, they knocked hard. A few minutes, and a little swearing, later the door clicked open. Beyond, a rusted metal staircase loomed with arrows pointing for the assembly line and our goal.

“Guess boss mare wanted to show off,” Clean said as he took the lead.

The staircase wound around and into the gloomy assembly area. We carefully shifted across the groaning metal, freezing at any sudden movements or unexpected noise. I felt greater terror at our slowed breathing, my raspy wheeze far louder than any of the others. Beneath us, something stirred and made a similar noise.

A cluster of feral ghouls stood, staring vacantly at ancient combat armour on rusted lines. A few sniffed the air and growled at the scent, but none made a move. Domino gave me a worried look but motioned for us to keep up with Clean, who had taken a considerable lead. Either he hadn’t noticed what was standing below or had chosen to ignore it.

We carefully made out way across the gangways, keeping an eye on the feral ghouls that lurked in the darkness below. They seemed to be uninterested in our presence, which suited us just fine, but the thought of what might happen if we disturb them wasn’t pleasant. I saw the office up ahead, sighing at the memories of years long gone. I had my interview in there, which was a strange thought.

As we approached the door, I picked out the sound of somepony talking. They sounded distressed, but also other-worldly, like they were from some strange radio show as the alien character. Something else set me on edge as he reached the wooden door.

I held out a hoof, stopping the others in their tracks. “Something’s… wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Domino whispered.

“Radiation. I can feel it,” rather I could feel something. On the other side of the door lurked a worryingly high level of radiation, enough for me to absorb, but it felt different some how. I crept closer, taking in the tingle and loving the feeling.

Opening the door, the flow grew suddenly. It wasn’t as powerful as my time in Craterside but it was leaps and bounds above what I had experience in Fillydelphia. The office was bathed in a sickly green light, my head span as thoughts of the drinks we had in my dream surfaced and I forced myself to stand up straight. At the centre of the glow stood a unicorn, dallying to and fro as she muttered to herself.

“Another late shipment, this is ridiculous, what on earth is going on?” she paced the floor, glaring at a dead clock. “Said they’d be here three hours ago, unacceptable, truly.”

“Hello?” I tried, wincing as she turned towards me. The glow was intense, almost mesmerising. I found myself unable to move my eyes away from her form, taking in the whole view as a site more lovely and hellish than any before.

She was like me – a ghoul. Yet while the others of my kind had a pallid, near death look about them, she stood with more life within her than I had ever seen before. Where I had rotted and become corpse like, she shone with an in-equine power that took form in that green light. She took a moment to compose herself after the sudden interruption and gave me a smile.

“Ah, a visitor! Well, this is most unexpected. I do apologise sir, I have been busy of late. How may I help you, Mr…?”

“Copy, Hard Copy,” I said, my voice faint compared to hers. It filled the room with an unearthly noise, like a chorus talking at once.

“Mr. Copy? My stars, no, it can’t be! Why, I haven’t seen you in years!” she exclaimed and pulled me into a close hug. “I thought you were in Manehatten, what are you doing back here now?”

“I thought it was time for a visit, a short one at least,” I found my hooves and stood against the glow.

“Well, please make yourself at home. I’m waiting on a shipment from Fillydelphia, new reinforced plates for the armour, but they’re terribly late. I would ask if you want tea but I’m afraid dearest Rain Drop hasn’t come in today, I do hope she’s alright,” she began to potter around the room as I sat down, trying to wrap my head around the whole situation. I then remembered that Rain Drop worked at the front desk.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the others crouched at the door. I gave them a nod and let them filter in, much to the mare’s surprise. The surprise increased as Clean entered the room.

“Fuck me sideways, that’s a glowin’ one!” he looked to me in horror. “The hell are you doin’?”

“A what? Where?” she said, looking around in terror.

“Clean, wait. This is the head office for Needle’s Threads, right?”

The glowing one nodded. “Of course, mom interviewed you here all those years ago.”

“So that makes you Knit, right? Knitting Needle?”

“You didn’t recognise me? We went to school together Hard! And it hasn’t been that long since then, I can assure you,” Knitting Needle pouted, which is a tricky thing to describe with her condition. “Why, just the other week your mother came in to visit.”

“Holy shit,” Domino muttered, looking at me with wide eyes. “You used to live here?”

“Missin’ the point, swinger,” Two Tone replied quietly.

“What’s the date today?” I asked, my voice low.

“Th-that’s a strange question, why do you need to know?” Knitting Needle looked a little panicked, pained even. She furrowed her brow.

“Answer the question, little miss,” Two Tone said softly. “Just checkin’ our calendars, know what I’m sayin’?”

“It-it’s the fifth of the seventh moon, but what does that matter?” Knit frowned harder, her voice strained.

“The year, what happened this year?” I said, trying to keep her calm.

Knitting Needle’s face scrunched in concentration. “So much! We’ve just been commissioned for another year by the Ministry of Wartime Technology, oh and there was that hullabaloo about those ponies disappearing into the Stables early, though I’m sure you remember that. It was in Manehatten after all.”

“Bullshit,” Clean whispered, making all of us flinch.

“You seem worried about something, what’s wrong?” Knitting Needle hesitantly asked, looking at Clean the same way a rabbit looks at a manticore.

“It’s ok, just making sure,” I said, standing up with a smile on my face. “Clean, Dom, mind giving us some space? You’ll be ok if Two stays, right, Knit?”

“S-sure,” she took a seat on an ancient couch as the others left the room. “What is this about, Mr. Copy? It’s been years since we last saw one another, you arrive out of nowhere with these strangers, it’s all rather distressing really.”

“Hard, call me Hard. I’m sorry for the sudden arrival, can’t let ponies know where I am all the time,” I gently patted her hoof. “Isn’t that right Two Tone?”

“Sure is swinger, can’t have you gettin’ caught up in another’s mess. He’s real important back in Manehatten, big writer, know what I’m sayin’?”

Knitting Needle nodded slowly. “I did hear something about new work, you’re writing again?”

“Yeah, comics and a few articles when I can,” I frowned at the still active terminal on her desk, feeling rather amazed that she could have afforded the model. “Odd question, can I use your terminal? Need to check my watch is synced. But I’m not the famous one here, let me introduce you to my good friend – Two Tone.”

“Of course, of course. Now, Two Tone?” she asked, looking expectantly at the stallion. I could feel the heat from his glare on my back as he realised what part I wanted him to play.

“That’s me, li’l miss, King of the Swing at your service,” he took a seat next to her on the couch. “Two Tone’s just back from Tenpony Tower, new album.”

“Tenpony? Where’s that?”

“Just the name we give the record studios in Manehatten,” Two Tone replied, cool as a breeze. “Can fit ten ponies in the booth they’re so big!”

I let the conversation fade in the background and focused on tapping away at the terminal. If Two Tone could hold the attention of several waitresses with a few songs, he could certainly keep Knitting Needle entertained for a few minutes. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked, and I was able to access the last few messages. From my little experience of Stable-Tech machines, I figured one mystery out already. The date hadn’t changed since the end of Equestria – in fact, it said that wasn’t due to happen for another two days. It explained how Knitting Needle could fool herself into thinking nothing has changed.

It didn’t explain how she had never come across a mirror. I looked over at the glowing mare and sighed at the thought. She was mentally locked in the week just before the world around her crumbled, blocking out the stress and trauma of turning into a ghoul through sheer willpower and denial.

If there was one thing Knitting Needle had, it was willpower.

I scrolled through the various messages and internal memos, wincing at the references to names long gone. My mind began to ponder if any of these names belonged to the growling creatures a storey or two below, but I shut the thought out quickly. If the worst happened, if I denied what they were now, I would be dead very quickly.

More messages flew by, until something caught my eye. The name made me frown for a moment, the message itself bringing a smile. Finally, a lead.

“Knit, can I ask you about something?” I said slowly, choosing my words very carefully.

“Of course, Mr Tone here was just telling me about his latest tour, a tour in Fillydelphia sounds just divine!” Knit beamed, while Two wiped away imaginary sweat.

“Yeah, it was something. I think I clicked on something, sorry about that!” I chuckled, waving my hooves. “Four left hooves!”

Knit nickered. “Still causing trouble? That inquisitive nose will be the death of you, Hard.”

“You can say that again,” I murmured. “Still, I thought I saw a famous name here, maybe six months ago. Now what would a Ministry Mare be doing here?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, I remember now, Wartime Technology… oh, what’s her name?”

“Applejack?” Two Tone offered, catching my eye and smiling.

“Yes! Lovely mare, lovely family actually, just finished designing some wonderful alternative designs for her sister. Those Stable jumpsuits are just so drab! Why does that matter? You’re not one of those stalker ponies, right? Still?” she said with a coy look. As coy as you can get with half a face.

“Stalker?! Come on now Knit, that’s just mean!” I spluttered as Two Tone began to chuckle. “I follow you home one time…”

“He wanted to ask me to the fall dance,” she explained to Two. “Of course, rather than go to my house and ask me there, he follows me all over town. Such a strange pony back then, hiding away in his comics when he wanted to ask something, but the first to take to the stage when it came to the school play.”

“Don’t bring comics into this,” I mumbled.

“Don’t you worry swinger, Two Tone won’t be lettin’ you live this down for a while,” the singer laughed, bringing a smile to my face as well. “Now, what did Miss Applejack want here? Seems a bit out of the way for her, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Well, she was bringing something along to be fixed. She said that it was originally designed by the Rarity, but that poor dear is so over worked with her own businesses that Applejack came to me. Said it was frightfully important.”

The trail of thought was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Two Tone nodded to me and slipped outside, closing the door back on us two ghouls. I moved over to Knitting Needle and took Two’s place on the couch.

“What was it?” I shifted, feeling a surge of confidence. The feeling faded as Knitting Needle hesitated.

“I honestly can’t remember… I’m very sorry Hard,” she sighed, the sound strange with the effects on her voice.

“Do you know where it is?” I pressed, hoping for something to push forwards with.

“No,” she calmly shook her head. “No idea I’m afraid, is it important?”

“Y-yeah, just a pet project. Favourite things, that sort of article. Keeps morale up,” I gave her my greatest fake grin. As always, it was bought.

“I am sorry, but I do know who might be able to help you.”

The next line was cut short but the sound of Clean’s shotgun going off, the door being kicked open, and shouting from the main assembly area. Domino supported Clean as he came in, Two Tone shielding both as he slammed the door shut. Knitting Needle cried out in fear at the sight of the smoking barrels.

“Bounty hunters, not sure how they followed us, but they did,” Domino spoke quickly, the sound of bullets slamming into the door sending us all to the floor. “Think they’re Devil’s ponies too.”

“Stars above, how many?” I hissed back, readying my pistol.

“Enough for it to be hard,” Clean replied. His voice was gruff, edged against the pain in his back.

“Sweet Celestia, what is going on?” Knitting cried. “Why are you all carrying weapons? What is this?!”

“Knit, you need to listen to me very carefully,” I began when a bullet managed to smash the glass on her door, opening us to the sounds of fighting below. “These ponies are here for us, not you. Do not worry about us, worry about yourself. You need to get out of here and hide, alright?”

“But the workers! Hard, I need to get them!”

“Don’t worry about them, you need to go, get out of here!”

There was a sickening scream, followed by shouts at the workers woke up. Someone cried out for help as they were eaten alive, gunfire showering the attackers. We all hesitated at the sound for moment too long.

“What was that?” Knitting Needle asked, her voice and expression distant. I could see that she knew exactly what it was but did not want to remember. Her eyes were empty, the life behind them slowly fading as she lost to the realisation that something was very, very wrong.

“Fuckin’ hell, they’re gone lady. They’re fuckin’ ghouls, abominations. You want to see what’s happenin’ to them? Ask the poor bastards they’re eatin’,” Clean snarled, shoving me out of the way. “Wake up already, else you’re dead.”

He didn’t expect to be flung to one side with such ease, though no-one else expected Knitting to them burst out of the room and throw herself off the railing. We could hear the screaming as the invaders were beset by a glowing horror. Two Tone shot a glare at Clean as he scarpered out of the room, Domino giving chase after helping Clean to his hooves. I watched Clean move towards the door, glowering at the sight.

“You comin’ or dyin’? She just gave us a ticket out of this mess, make the most of it,” he fired a shot at an unseen enemy before I grabbed him.

“Watch yourself, Clean,” I said through clenched teeth, barely audible over the fighting. “There are a lot of bullets flying right now.”

“And whose fuckin’ fault is that? Neglectin’ to tell us about these pricks has royally ruined this, ghoul. You have a problem with my methods, then bitch later. Right now, I want us out of here alive. That ain’t happenin’ with you chit chattin’ with a time bomb and mercs shootin’ the place up,” he shoved me back. “She’s gone, zombie, just a matter a time.”

“Then what about me?” I hissed at him.

Gunfire prevent an answer, sending us both back inside the office. Clean slammed the door shut again, throwing an ancient filing cabinet across as a barricade. I could head the snapping of bone and the animalistic shrieks as a feral met its end, as well as the terrified cries as a mercenary met hers. Pushing the images of what was happening outside out of my head, I dragged Clean towards the connecting office door, hoping there was another way out.

My luck held, but it was precarious. In the next room there was an emergency escape at the back, rows of designer desks sitting undisturbed for over a century. The door was being slammed repeatedly by something on the other side, the movements imprecise and harried. We split up, looking for a way to open the door without going anywhere near it.

It was the wrong moment to hear bells.

I glared at the harlequin as it sat on a desk, not unlike a dog. It patted at a document, looked up at me expectantly, and vanished the moment I looked away. With a growl, I swiped the document and upturned the desk. Clean shouted a countdown as I bit into my pistol, his magic gripping the door’s handle. It swung open with a loud clatter, bringing the noise of an angry feral ghoul as it burst into the room.

Now seeing it hungry the first time, I understood why they had taken the name. I tried to remember what Pirouette had said, all those weeks ago, but there wasn’t a pony left any more. There was no spark left in those mindless, colourless eyes. No song or word would escape its drooling maw, teeth snapping as it hungered for flesh. It was the utter opposite of a pony, a true creation of the wastes.

It made my blood boil.

Clean, true to his talent, made quick work of the feral. He slammed the stock of one of his shotguns into its jaw and stunned the creature. The other swung around, turning the feral’s head into chunks of long dead flesh. Its body crashed to the floor after, lying there as what fluid remain dribbled out. I felt a wave of guilt crash over me, wondering if I once knew who that was, but the thought left when we heard the growls of another coming galloping up the stairs.

As it entered the room, I let the desk I was hiding behind fly through the air and straight into the ghoul. I heard its spine snap as it was pinned to the wall, forehooves scrabbling at the desk in an attempt to free itself. Approaching the creature, I could only feel a deep sadness inside me. I finished the job with a single shot to the head and hurried as fast as Clean could move.

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to throw down and let out all the anger at his careless remarks, beat him to a pulp if it would put some sense into him, show him how much damage he had done with his actions. This wasn’t the place, nor the time, but the pressure was building. Somehow, some way, it was going to snap.

The staircase placed us near the main factory floor, the air deathly silent. One side had certainly won, we were just round two. It didn’t take long to see the remains of battle, the first appearance being a dirtied mare staring with terrified eyes. Her face was misshapen from the stomps it had received, and her left foreleg had been torn away. We wasted no time in searching the corpse for anything worth taking. A few shotgun shells and a potion were our reward.

Her attacker lay a little further, still biting down on the leg. There was a considerable distance between the head and the body, making Clean sniff as he examined the work.

“Somepony’s got themselves a real nice blade,” he muttered. “Cleanest cut I’ve seen in all my life.”

“Who do you think is still alive?” I whispered, jumping at the sound of gunfire in the distance.

“Won’t be them for much longer,” Clean visibly fought back the urge to gallop. We moved as fast we could, Clean trying not to grunt every other step.

The scene was a mess. Three mercs were panting as a fourth decapitated the last attacking ghoul. All of them were wounded and had begun to patch themselves up. So they didn’t realise we were there until one of them was filled with buckshot and slumped against the machinery.

The sword wielder leapt at Clean with a holler, but I met her before she could build enough momentum. The blade sung in the air as I knocked her slightly off course, following up with another strike of my forehoof. My mind scrambled for the zebra methods of fighting an opponent with a weapon. They came just in time.

The weapon scythed down towards my neck but came away hungry for my blood, managing to nick it as a reward for its efforts. The roll was imperfect, but it had done a fantastic job all the same. I bounced back to my hooves and bucked the mare with both hindlegs: the dat-placers not having enough oomph to activate yet. It worked nonetheless, as she skidded onto the floor and tried to get back onto her hooves.

The victory was short lived, as a brute of an earth pony joined the fray. His weapon was long gone in the firefight with Clean but that didn’t stop him from stepping into my space and delivering a hammer-like blow with a hoof. I slammed against an ancient machine, slipping underneath the next blow which made a loud metallic bong.

I could swear there was a hoof shaped imprint left behind.

As soon as I kicked the mass of muscle away, the sword came swinging back. The ancient machine gave a loud shriek as it was rent open, exposing the sliced innards. I looked at the mare, then to the damage.

“You could hurt somepony with that,” I remarked as my hoof managed to find her chin.

The impact sent her head over hooves, letting her give a soft grunt as she landed. My attention then returned to the second combatant as he shouldered me to the ground. There wasn’t time to recover as he stomped downwards, leaving me only time to roll away with just enough space. He didn’t find his mark but was rewarded with a loud rip as his hoof caught my jacket and tore it open.

With his weight down on the leg, I span on my back to swing mine into the joint. Both hooves drove into his knee and caved it inwards, bringing him crashing to the floor. He cried out in pain as I followed the next step in the pattern. Placing both hindlegs either side of his neck, I shifted my weight so I was reared up over his exposed head. All it took was a twist and the snap followed.

Something slammed into something else behind me without warning, some inner sense telling me to sprawl on the ground to avoid the follow up blow. Above my head, Two Tone’s riot shield blocked a few more stabs from the merc, until Domino took over. Domino’s knives were torn apart in sudden sparks but she pressed the attack, searching for a quick stab or kick. Her opportunity came after a mis-timed sidestep, the world slowing to a crawl as she drove her knife into the neck of the merc. The sword fell with a clatter, kicked away into the dark by our deadly mare.

A twist of her head, and the sword wielder fell dead.

“And where did you two disappear to?” I asked with a smile, getting to my hooves.

“Chased by a few of these fools and ghouls. We heard gunfire and thought it would be best to head there first,” Domino smiled as Clean joined us. “Sorry it took a while.”

Two Tone trotted, giving me a pat down. “Lost part of your fancy jacket there, swinger. Shame.”

A growl interrupted us. On the other side of the room, I could see a glowing form slowly make her way towards us. In the dim, green light, I could see the rotting faces of several other ghouls snap and heard the sound of monsters breaking into a lolloping gallop. The movements were unsteady, the ghouls falling over each other like newborn foals but with a ceaseless determination. We looked to each other, then to Clean. He was out of breath, face contorted in pain from the extended fight.

“For the love of… run!”

We broke into a mad dash, Domino leading the way as I shouted directions, while Two Tone and I held the rear. Every ten feet, I spun to fire a shot or two off at the small horde. The flashes of light illuminated the dreary corridors, giving our position away but also showing how much damage we were doing. It wasn’t enough.

Even with Two Tone using his shield as an improvised bat, we had barely put a dent in the number of ferals chasing us through the halls. I had put a few holes into the leading creatures, maybe even killed one or two, but I was now out of ammo and had no way of reloading without stopping. It was a really, really bad day to not be a unicorn.

I fired my last shot and cursed internally as the pistol clicked in hunger for ammo. A feral leapt from the pack but came to a sudden halt as it slammed into the battered riot shield, Two Tone throwing the creature back at the crowd with a shout of effort. It bounced and gave a strange squealing hiss as it was pounded flat by the other hooves. He pulled me back around, holding the shield behind us to deter any other creatures.

“Hard, end of the corridor! What way, left or right?” Domino yelled from the front, dragging Clean behind her.

“Left then look for a door. It was never locked when I was here, doubt that would have changed recently!” I shouted back.

I saw the others round the corner, Two Tone moving just a little faster than me, when I felt teeth sink into my leg. That hurt. I gave a very un-stallion scream, feeling the flat grinding teeth of another pony bite into my flesh. The ghoul pulled at my leg in jerking motions, having broken ahead of the pack in its mad dash hunger for pony flesh.

Two Tone yelled as he slammed the shield into the ghoul’s head, twice, thrice, until it let go. He threw the shield into the creature for good measure, retrieving it and me with another yell. The feral was stunned long enough for us to get away, the others finding purchase on the floor to keep up with us.

We joined the others in the room, which was still kept unlocked after all this time. The door to the locker room slammed shut behind us, Clean wrenching a locker set across it as the monsters outside piled against it. Hooves and bodies began to test the wood, hammering again and again on it.

“There’s no way out,” Two Tone cried, looking around in a panic. “Swinger, don’t mean to doubt your tactical abilities, but we’re dead in here!”

“I bought us time, we can work out our next move. What’s our ammo count?” I slammed a fresh reload into my pistol.

“Not enough,” Domino replied, searching as well. “There’s a vent, but Clean won’t fit in there.”

“Lockers!” Clean ordered, pulling a few open. “Look inside the lockers. Might be somethin’.”

We did as commanded, finding ancient clothing mostly, until Two gave a shout. The door made uncomfortable sounding cracks as we rushed over. In his hooves, a slightly tarnished, but other wise working, combat shotgun. I blinked at the weapon, looking to the others.

“Seen stranger. Ghoul, take that if you know how to use it. How many rounds, Two?” Clean had already moved to another locker, tearing out the contents.

“All full, eight shots, swinger,” he replied, throwing the weapon to me.

I looked at the device in my hooves, unable to process. “Why is there a fully loaded shotgun in a clothing factory?! Who? What?!”

“Doesn’t matter, it’ll help,” Clean shouted back, pulling another locker set down as the door began to splinter.

“You’ll be amazed at what you can find, Hard,” Domino chimed in. “Bombs, books, copious amounts of drugs, a briefcase full of grenades.”

“Some ponies,” I sighed, double taking as Domino brought forward said briefcase. “Oh come on!”

The small, apple-shaped explosives were at odds to the casual clothes they rested on. Three in total, enough to turn the tide if used correctly. Domino took two of them, hefting one and readying a solid buck.

“Two, keep them back and away from us. Domino, one grenade out as soon as that door caves. Ghoul, fire at the meat of the pack. I’ll take care of the flanks, got it?”

We all gave a grunt of acknowledgement, the door cracking once more. Clean floated Lock and Stock out, checking they were both fully loaded, and aimed them at the gaps. A rotting snout replaced a rotting hoof, growling at the inability to get inside.

“I ain’t dyin’ here.”

The door broke, and hell swarmed us. The shotgun felt uncomfortable in my mouth, dust and rust bringing new taste sensations that weren’t overly welcome. It was too heavy, and it had been years since I last used something bigger than a pistol. Braced against the locker, I fired the first roar into the maw of a feral.

Ichor sprayed across the faces of the horde as the feral fell to the floor, another quickly taking its place. The second shot wasn’t as well placed, slamming in the torso of the creature. It screeched in agony, trying to get back to its hooves as two more raced in. I fired another two shots, tearing the forelegs off of one and the lower jaw of the other.

“DOWN!” Two bellowed, his enhanced voice ringing over the damage to my ears. I obeyed as his shield came over me, the krump of a grenade going off just on the other side of the door. Fragments found their way through the broken plastic despite it slowly regrowing. I hissed as something sliced into me, realising that it was a shard of bone rather than hot metal as white stuck out from my side.

The doorway was now caked in ancient ghoul blood, the few that remained dragged themselves on what limbs still worked. Entrails followed them like grotesque streamers, leaking chunks of gory confetti. The comparison troubled me far more than the image itself, so I set to work putting it out of my mind by putting a bullet in theirs.

The last of the combat shotgun ammo was put to good use, a single shot to the back of the head made short work of the ferals. Without the adrenaline of combat keeping me going, I could feel every ache and wound. At some point, I had been shot. I hadn’t even registered the bullet slicing my leg but now I could barely shift my weight without a spark of pain.

The last feral looked up at me with its pale, undead eyes. it gave a choking gurgle, snapping teeth as I lined the shot up. A memory wobbled inside my head, and I wondered if I knew this pony. Did I go to school with them? Their relative? Did I work with them here? See them every morning? Who were they? What did they do?

I threw the switch. The shotgun fell, emptied of its rounds, next to the corpse of the feral.

“Ponies don’t try to eat other ponies!” Tarlung’s words, her tears, came to mind. She had witnessed the change of a loved one and had killed her. In the end, this was more of a mercy for their memory than a battle for survival. I fought back the tears.

“Is that the last of them?” Domino said, hesitant to tempt fate. “I’m exhausted.”

“Same here, swinger, this ain’t a good place to be,” Two Tone muttered, watching as his riot shield slowly regrew. “We need to get out of here.”

“If there’s nopony left, it’s a quick trot to the exit. Come on,” I led the group out of the room, moving towards the docking bays. My eyes were heavy, exhaustion had taken its toll on me. I hadn’t slept since Fillydelphia and the excitement wasn’t helping, bringing my non-existent energy levels to near zero.

I didn’t see her hiding in the darkness. All I felt was the explosion of pain as the pipe was slammed into my nose, and the taste of copper burst into my mouth. I fell to the ground in agony, only hearing the scuffle afterwards. The pipe let out a few more thuds, several banging against Two’s shield. Then came the worst one.

It sounded like a branch snapping. Only, branches don’t scream afterwards. One of Clean’s shotguns went off twice, following by dull thuds as it hit something over and over again. It then clattered to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I slurred through my broken nose.

“Don’t move swinger, Clean, don’t move!” I could hear the panic in Two Tone’s voice.

Domino was saying something, but it was unintelligible over Clean’s screams of agony. The gentle tingle of somepony’s magic could just be made out as something was carried over me. Looking up, I could see it was someone.

And their hindlegs were completely motionless.

The last thing I heard was the jingling of bells as somepony laughed. Then everything went black.

Clipping from Manehatten Today.

Police Continue Appeal For Mystery Killer

Manehatten Police Department are continuing their appeal for witnesses of a fatal stabbing that occurred last Friday, as nothing conclusive has been found in the early stages of the investigation.

The attack took place in a public lavatory just one block away from the famous nightclub Hoofbeats, where police believe the attacker attended that evening. Officers arrived on the scene just past midnight, after receiving a call from a bystander who stumbled upon the scene. The victim was pronounced dead at the scene, having suffered multiple stab wounds.

“He was a true hero, never provoked anyone and wanted the best for the world,” the victim’s mother said in an appeal. “All we want is justice for our son, there is enough killing out in the world these days.”

Police are looking for a stallion, most likely an earth pony, who was seen fleeing the scene. They have announced that they found multiple drug applicators at the scene, including several Dash inhalers, and are considering the crime to be a result of hallucination. Police have stated that they do not believe it to be racially motivated, and caution that such vigilantism towards the zebra populace will be not be tolerated.

The Ministries of Peace and Morale have released a comment on the tragedy, pleading for such drug takers to admit themselves to the nearest Ministry of Peace clinic for assistance in coming clean. The Ministry of Morale have also offered a reward for any information regarding the distribution of the drug.

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