As the sun starts rising over the old mining company turned Red Eye slave trafficking outpost, Gearing continues to slowly patrol the compound. Out in the open, and without even trying to hide himself. In fact, he’s intentionally making himself, and his new outfit, as visible as possible as he practically struts around the compound like he owns the joint.

Because he stripped Stubs of everything he had, and is wearing it himself. He stripped the rest of the Red Eye’s personnel in the camp as well, of course. His own personal equipment he squirreled away where no one is likely to find it. He’s wearing the same goggle-eyed sack-headed modified hoofball helmet on his head that Stubs was wearing. And the rest of him is covered with the piecemealed armor that Stubs had been wearing, plus additional contributions from the last mare he subdued. Gearing had even taken off the bodysuit, because that was a bit too different if anyone had seen it. The primary difference between the two is that Gearing has wrapped extra cloth around his entire body before putting on the armor, to cover his brassy hide, but done in such a way that there’s not a noticeable difference from the outside. The baggy sections covering his legs were taken from the mare, and do an excellent job of covering up the lump from his PipBuck. However, by donning the Red Eye soldier’s armor, he’s learned a thing or two about its capability. Namely that under all of the fabric there was even more armor. And that it’s not as puny as he’d originally thought. Enough so that he’s pretty sure AP rounds might just serve him better than he would have otherwise thought. And the carbine that he’d previously admitted to most likely being better quality, after closer examination, was just as advertised. It’s got some wear on it, but beyond that it is in perfect working order. Which he realizes that means they do in fact have the resources to keep their troops armed and their equipment maintained. Details that he’s not soon to forget.

Though the one change that he had to make, by necessity, was with the added layers that he put over his haunches and what he’s done with his tail. Stubs’ haunches were easily seen, even from a distance, and that’s how Gearing could identify the tan buck was in fact tan. But with the way Gearing’s own body works, he might get away with something to make him look a similar color, but would not get away with any kind of real look at him. Because plates and cogs look nothing like pony hair and he knows it. So he’s completely covered himself with more of the armor and fabric. And he’s taken a page from the one mare he’d surprised, and wrapped fabric around his tail, then braided it with more fabric tightly tied to it with some bits of metal here and there giving himself an apparent baton. If she got away with it, it should work well enough for him. It took some time to figure out a way to make the costume seem seamless. But Commander Pancake’s full body mirror was priceless in its aid. A fact that Gearing regularly thanked the commander for while he was getting himself dressed for success for his plan.

It took a while for Gearing to get everything situated and for him to learn what he could from the outpost. And, before the sun even thought about coming up, alone in the cold dark of night, Gearing finished everything. The whole monumental task. Everything that needed to be stowed away has been. Things that needed to be cleaned or removed have been. And now he alone is the guard of the complex as he waits for the next stage of his plan to start. He wishes he had something else to do, because since he started worrying about being spotted, or more accurately, not being spotted on patrol, he’s had little else to do but think about what he’s doing as he’s walking around out in the open.

And it’s tearing him apart as if he’d stumbled into another enervation field like the one those ghouls had chased him into. But this time it’s one of his own making, and he could dispel it at any moment. He has time. But, he stays the course and instead chooses to damn himself further. He’s sure it’s the only way his scheme will work. Because who would ever conceive of anyone doing what he’s doing, willingly, and intentionally. Especially someone that regularly gets hailed as a ‘hero’.

With the sun peeking over the mountains and the area starting to lighten up, Gearing heads over to the area where he knows the supplies are kept. Thanks to a key he’d found around Pancakes’ neck before he carried him off to his own holding cell, he’s able to stroll right up to the shipping container and unlock it with the intended key. Of course, he could pick the lock and get in, but appearances are important and he has no idea who may be watching. Especially with the light levels coming up all around The Hoof.

He pulls the shipping container’s door wide open, and trots right in. For added theater he clicks on the electric light that’s inside, and carefully looks over the shelves of supplies. There’s quite a bit in here. Enough for the outpost’s personnel and their ‘guests’ for quite a while. And, as Gearing had learned, even more so as Pancake had been shorting what he’d been giving to their captives before sending them off. Since the entire time he’s been here. So he’s amassed quite a bit of supplies off the books.

But Pancake isn’t here right now. ‘Stubs’ is.

So Gearing grabs the clipboard off of the wall, and quickly peruses what’s available. He puts a few items into his own saddle bag. Then grabs a couple items and puts them into a plastic shopping basket that was sitting on the floor of the shipping container. But, despite what others might think, he actually lists everything he takes on the clipboard, including the rations he put into Stubs’ saddle bag hanging from his side, before replacing the clipboard and leaving. One thing that he’s learned about these ponies is that, if nothing else, they are very strict about keeping records. He’s sure there is some level of corruption and things being taken ‘off the books’ by some individuals when they know they can get away with it. Discipline is never 100%, especially with an army of apparent slaves. Pancake is a perfect example of that. And the real Stubs is as well, at least judging by his open complaining among other things that Gearing’s learned about them. But Gearing is trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. This is an important role that he himself has to play.

The role of an obedient slave soldier of the great and fantastic leader Red Eye.

And, being the only one on guard duty, it’s up to him to do what needs to be done. So it would draw no suspicion from anyone, even if they were to see him, to watch him stroll right up to the cage with the two unicorns in it that are still sleeping. Gearing sets the basket down away from the cage, and then starts passing the items in one at a time inside through the bars. After he gets the items inside he steps back and looks them over again as they lay in the trampled dirt of their confinement pen.

‘I really don’t like this,’ the little blue pegasus says as he looks off to the side and refuses to look at anything more than mind space clouds.

If you got a better idea, I would love to hear it, Gearing mentally groans back. But the little pegasus in his head remains adamantly silent.

After a few moments of standing there looking in. Gearing reaches up with one of his booted forehooves and smacks the metal of the cage. “Hey! Quit pretending to sleep already… Get up.”

The aging buck raises his head and stares at Gearing wearily as he says, “Why?”

Gearing hits the cage a couple more times, before he says, “You need to eat this.”

The buck blinks a few times, and then glances down. His eyes go a bit wider as he asks, “What’s all of that? You all didn’t give us that much before?”

The mare lifts her head finally and looks over at the meager meal before looking up at Gearing. “What’s that gonna cost us?”

Gearing waves a forehoof towards it as he says, “You’re gonna need it. You’re getting transferred out today. So you better eat it quick before they get here. Because if you think they’re just going to let you lay there if you pass out from hunger you got another thing coming… Not alive anyway…”

They frown then slowly walk over and grab the plastic bottles and gingerly sip from the water. Though it takes the buck an embarrassingly long amount of time to get it open with just his mouth and hooves and his frustration at not being able to use his magic is evident on his face. His eyes jump wide as he looks at the bottle after managing to take his first sip. “What’s with the water? It doesn’t taste like radhog ass like the stuff from yesterday?”

Gearing avoids looking at them as they start eating and grumbles, “That’s because those bottles were filled from the rain water catchers. So they aren’t as dirty.”

“Oh, well that’s nice of you,” the elder mare says as she nibbles on some kind of stale cake made from unknown grain and plant matter. But Gearing catches the look on her face and it just hurts all the more as he sees that she wasn’t being sarcastic. She was actually grateful for the ‘treat’ of clean water.

Gearing looks around quickly and then stealthily slips out the rations he’d taken for himself. He leans towards the cage as he says quietly, “Hey… gimmie that wrapper… trade me your empties.”

They look from his hooves, with the new food, then up at him, and Gearing says, “You can have this too, but I need the empties…”

The mare looks at him and smiles as she asks, “So they won’t know you gave us more than you should?”

Gearing doesn’t verbally reply beyond a disgruntled sad sigh as he waves the newly filled packages towards them. They quickly transfer their water into their one bottle, and grab one of the newspaper wrapping papers that the mystery cake had been in and passes them both over to Gearing. And he quickly stows the garbage in his bag as they take the freshly delivered food as well. As they start divvying up the extra food between them Gearing says with a grumble, “Don’t tell anyone I did that…”

The mare smiles as she shakes her head. “I won’t. I wouldn’t want you to get punished for trying to help us.”

The older buck asks quietly, “There wouldn’t be any way I could talk you into just letting us out of here and letting us go, is there?”

Gearing steps up closer to the cage, and the buck actually recoils away expecting some kind of violence hurled at him and ends up sitting down accidentally. Gearing leans on the cage and whispers, “I can’t do that… I’m sorry… If there was any other way out of this I’d take it. I swear.” He hangs his head and sighs as he says, “I’m sorry.”

The mare walks up to the cage and gently taps him on his boot. When he looks up she gently rubs the mask on the side of his muzzle as she asks softly, “We’re not the only ones trapped, are we?” She tilts her head and lets out a sigh as she says, “You may be on the other side of the cage… but you’re just as much a prisoner as we are, aren’t you?”

Gearing slowly lowers his head as he lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. This is the best I can do for you now.”

The mare smiles as she has tears on the edge of her eyes. “I never thought I’d hear such kindness again…” She pats him on the side of the muzzle as she says, “It's okay… I understand… really, I do… It’s not your fault… You’re a good buck.”

Gearing looks up at her and says flatly, “No. I’m not. A ‘good buck’ would find another way out of this.”

The older stallion gets up and walks over to the cage as he smiles. “Buck… you’re young… we’re old… We’ve had a good life for the most part… There’s no point in getting yourself and others killed on our account.” Gearing and him share eye contact for a bit before the buck holds up the bottle of water and asks, “But any chance of getting some more water? If it’s going to be a long trip I’m not gonna make it dehydrated.”

Gearing nods quickly as he says, “I can do that. I’ll just grab some water out with a cooking pot and give you some tin cans, will that work?”

The mare smiles widely as she says, “That’d be amazing, dear.”

Gearing quickly runs over to the cooking area, grabs one of the long handled cooking pots, fills it from a rain barrel, and hurries back to them. After dropping off the pot of fresh water he scrounges up a couple tin cans, without the lids, and drops them off as well. As he’s setting down the two improvised drinking implements and picking up the trash from where they’d finished and left it outside of the cage for him, the older stallion says happily, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Gearing looks up at him and says quickly, “Please, don’t thank me. I do not deserve your thanks.”

The mare sitting at the edge of the cage smiles at him as she says, “That’s not the way gratitude works, young buck… but… don’t worry… We won’t tell on you to anyone.”

Gearing hangs his head as he looks away. “Well… thanks for that.” Then he turns and goes back to his patrol around the compound. He’s not sure when they are supposed to get here today, just that they are supposed to get here today. And he really hopes they don’t wait until nightfall to make an appearance. He’s already going to have enough of a problem explaining where he’s been all night. He even starts debating on what kind of mischief he can get into on the way back that he can blame his absence on.

As it’s getting into the late morning, and he’s walking from guard post to guard post near the main entrance where the train tracks are, he hears an ear-splitting blood-curdling scream of pure terror.

Coming from behind him.

He turns around and starts running back towards the building where the mine entrance is held, and then vectors around towards the side as he hears the old stallion and mare crying for help.

As Gearing is coming around the corner of some shipping containers, and clears the rusted out debris of mining equipment, he regains line of sight on the slave cages and sees the mare and buck using the cooking pot to beat back a trio of oversized scorpions that are trying to get into the cage with them. Each one is so big that their pincers alone are the size of a pony’s hoof, let alone the rest of the little beasties. There are two at the front of the cage, and one on the side nearest to Gearing. And giving the pair a perfectly good reason to be so terrified, the one nearest to Gearing has managed to flip itself sideways, and is in the process of trying to figure out how to get itself the rest of the way into the cage with them. It wiggles back and forth as its legs skitter in mid air as it works its body between the bars. All while its pincers are stretched out as far as they can be and sweep side to side in a bid to snip off bits of pony to nibble on. Its tail is high and ready to strike but is thankfully blocked by the rails of the cage. It’s slowly making headway into the cage with them; despite the fact the matronly unicorn keeps bashing it in the face with the metal pot that Gearing had left them for water.

Gearing charges in as fast as he can as he yells, “More fucking scorpions?! Hold on, I’m coming!” He stampedes towards the cages as quickly as his hooves will take him, and as he comes up behind the clever scorpion almost getting in. He grabs it by its tail with his forehooves, and simply jumps back and away from the cage while holding onto it. Several of the scorpion’s legs that had been on the inside of the cage, and tried their best to hold it to the cage despite what Gearing was doing, snap and break from the sudden unrelenting force. Gearing yells and screams as he rears up and spins the scorpion over his head with it still held in its forehooves by swinging it by its tail. He takes a few steps, increasing speed by turning his own body, before hurling the scorpion a distance away. The scorpion slams into the side of a massive rusting metal shipping container, and then limply falls down into the fifty-five gallon drum that was standing next to it and under the critter’s point of impact. Gearing only watches for a moment longer before realizing that he’d make the right choice. He was pretty sure that one was only partially full of trash, and the fact that the scorpion hasn’t already scurried up enough to be seen proves it.

Gearing hops over and grabs the second scorpion by the tail, and performs the same spinning maneuver he’d done with the previous one, before using it to smack the third one away from the cage, sending it flying a short distance away.

The little pegasus in Gearing’s head frowns as he says, ‘I see we’re in the ‘so pissed off we’re using a motherfucker to beat another motherfucker’ stage of annoyance…’ He shrugs before he smiles. ‘Hey, at least we’ll get some more glands out of this… so don’t crush the spiky bits too much.’

Instead of throwing this one away, he slams it down on the ground, onto its back, then quickly slides over and steps onto its body with a hind hoof as he controls the tail with his forelegs. After giving the tail a hug, with the stinger feebly pointing away from him, he straightens up and twists away, ripping the tail right off the scorpion in one cracking, sucking noisy action. The scorpion, to its credit, lets out an angry pained screech as it tries to skitter away and thrashes around but can’t get itself upright because of Gearing stepping on it.

Gearing jumps back and away from it as he spins around in time to avoid the third scorpion’s stinger zipping in from the side. And he halts the fresh scorpions advance with a quick snap of his heavily wrapped baton-like tail, proving the effectiveness of the mare’s design by batting the tail away from himself while in mid air. Then he starts pacing around the scorpion in a circle trying to get a good angle on it.

In the meantime, as soon as Gearing is chased off of it, the second scorpion flips itself up right and then starts chasing after Gearing as well. It might not have its tail anymore, but it has its pincers and a whole lot of anger.

“Careful!” the mare yells from the cage.

“Don’t get stung! Their pincers are bad enough, but their venom can sometimes kill a full grown stallion in one poke!” the old stallion adds.

The mare reaches out and throws the long handled cooking pot towards Gearing as she yells, “Here, use this!”

Gearing tap dances around the pair of scorpions, keeping clear of the four pincers, two pairs of mandibles, and the one stinger among them as he keeps glancing over at the pair in the cage.

Dammit, if they weren’t there this would be so much easier, Gearing mentally groans.

‘If we weren’t trying this whole bullshit in general this would have already been over,’ the little blue pegasus in his head reminds him.

Gearing jumps over the tailless scorpion, grabs the pan with a forehoove, and spins around with it. He smacks the tail of the other scorpion away, causing it to stumble and recoil as it actually felt the pain in its tail from moving suddenly in an unintended direction so violently. He smacks the tail side to side a few more times, aiming for the stinger barb with the metal, as he tries to keep the two scorpions positioned to block each other. Then when he sees them separate a bit more, to try and come at him from different angles, more in a sense of getting annoyed at each other for getting in the way of their own meal than any kind of actual cooperation or planned move, Gearing takes advantage. He spins the pan around, and catches the stinger inside the pot as he jumps over onto the scorpion that had lost its tail. For the second time in a matter of minutes it’s insultingly pinned to the ground under Gearing, but this time right side up. It reaches back and keeps trying to nip at his hindhoof as he firmly plants it there, but can’t quite make it as he’s just outside of the distance of where the scorpion can reach. So it keeps struggling under him as he’s trying to ward off the other one with the cooking pot.

Gearing glares at the one that keeps trying to sting him, and yells, “Wait your turn!” before smacking it away with the pan. He’d figure out its timing between strikes, where it would sting at him, hit the metal pan, then pull back and shift to try again. But as soon as it struck with its tail, he quickly brought the pan down on the scorpion’s head, before swinging around with a follow through and catching the scorpion right in the mandibles with the thick side section of the pan and knocking it back a few feet. As soon as he makes contact with that one, he turns his head sideways, just enough to make sure where the one he’s standing on is, before he brings the edge of the pan down on the head of the furious little arachnid under his hoof. He manages two good smacks before the third scorpion is on him again, but by that time the tailless scorpion is thoroughly stunned and laying flat under Gearing’s hoof.

This time when the third scorpion attacks him, he simply bats the stinger again, and then angles the pan down towards the scorpion’s head. But the scorpion, still having a rather sore mouth from the last hit, uses its claw to absorb the blow. Except Gearing wasn’t actually trying to hit it in the head this time. He traps the claw inside of the pan as he’s hopping forward towards it. And as he is shifting to the side of the scorpion, he quickly grabs the stringer with his other hoof as it zips in at him. And as soon as he has a hold of it, the fight is decided as he releases the pan, spins around, and begins the same maneuver he did before. He twirls the scorpion over his head, before bringing it down on its back.

Right on top of the still stunned scorpion.

Again and again. And the pair screech in mutual pain and frustration as their carapaces crack and fracture. And after repeating the maneuver so many times that it’s becoming absurd, the tail of the scorpion finally simply breaks off from the abuse and the two scorpions are left on the ground broken and leaking greenish yellow liquids through the many fractures in their carapace and where their tails have been ripped off.

Gearing drops the tail to the side, picks up the pan, and bashes their heads in a few more times. And he doesn’t stop until there’s nothing really identifiable left of the heads except fragments of chitin and greenish insect jam. Gearing drops the pan and scurries over to the cage as he asks, “Are you two okay? They didn’t sting you did they?”

The two unicorns stare at him wide-eyed before they both, in unison, shake their heads slowly.

“You sure?” Gearing asks urgently.

The mare looks herself over a bit before she starts looking the stallion standing next to her over as well as she says, “We look fine.” She looks at him and smiles widely as she says, “That was something! You really saved our keister!”

The stallion waves at Gearing and asks, “Are you sure you’re okay? Couple of those stings looked like they got close.”

“Close, but that was it,” Gearing replies with a sigh.

The mare opens her mouth to say something, but the area echoes out with a howling cry in the wind.

Both of them huddle together in the center of the cage as their eyes go wide and she murmurs, “Oh no…”

Gearing looks over towards where he was sure the sound came from and starts twitching his ears.

‘You have got to be shitting me…’ the little blue pegasus in his head asks incredulously.

More and more calls echo out, and then some, quieter, fainter, start coming from inside of the large central building.

Gearing runs over to the side, and looks around the rubble and shipping containers, and his ears fall down as he sees a group of ghouls meandering in the front of the compound but headed their way. Gearing slips the carbine from his back and props it up over one of the rusting tipped over mining carts as he snarls, “Fucking ghouls!”

And, to remove any question on their mentality, they let out the same eerie unequine screams that he’s been hunted by before as they look over and notice him.

Gearing aims his rifle as he sees the group growing by the second and activates SATS. And Gearing concentrates on them as time slows down to a near stop.

‘It’s a whole fucking herd!’ the little blue pegasus says as he groans.

Well, I’m not in a stupidly ridiculous enervation field. I’ve got skies above me, and a lot of area to maneuver. Oh, and I don’t have to worry about being quiet or a whole swarm of murder bots might slag me, Gearing replies.

‘Yeah, ‘Gearing’ doesn’t have a problem… but Stubs does! Or are we going to throw all of this away and go ahead and rescue those two?’ the little blue pegasus in his head grumps. He puts a hoof to Gearing’s nose as he says, ‘This is your fucked up idea, you know?! So what’s it gonna be?’

Shit… no… I gotta do this right… Gearing mentally mutters.

‘Well, how does Stubs even fight? We don’t know. He could either be a markspony or a complete idiot. And if we suddenly start dropping them too quickly that could cause problems as well,’ the little blue pegasus adds.

Fine, I’ll split the damn difference… think three rounds per would sound about right? Four?

The little blue pegasus groans as it visibly cringes, ‘That’s such a waste of ammo…’

Three per kill, mix up ‘missing’ with kill shots, Gearing counter offers.

The little blue pegasus points at the rifle and scowls as he says, ‘This rifle either has been in a surplus crate until recently, or it’s been out and about and getting used. I really doubt they’re manufacturing these now. It’s one of the same type of rifles that were being used before we got our asses frozen for two hundred years. It has a proven track record. Don’t insult it!’ He waves towards the front as he says, ‘And don’t forget the front attachment… This one doesn’t have extended magazines so we just might need it.’

And a lower amount of rounds for this than I would have liked, Gearing mentally groans.

‘For Equestria?’ The little blue pegasus offers with a cringey smile.

For the future, Gearing replies flatly before dropping SATS.

Gearing, with the rifle propped up over the side of the mining cart to steady the aim, opens fire on the group of ghouls running into the compound towards him. The first three drop in rapid succession as Gearing slowly shifts the barrel back and forth and releases one hot welcome package at a time toward the ghouls closing in on his position.

‘Hey, dummy, you’re too spot on! Go for a few body shots, save the head shots for later!’ the little blue pegasus scolds as he’s quickly tallying the shots fired and factoring in the accuracy percentage with each squeeze of the trigger.

In between the shots the compound echoes out with the horrible screech of the ghouls as they charge at him as quickly as they can, while calling in others to help them. And, as Gearing is pulling out a fresh magazine and reloading the rifle, he can hear that the ones in the mine are trying to break down the gate to join the ones outside in their assault.

‘That’s seven,’ the little blue pegasus says as rotten matter spatters across an excavator that’s half buried in mud and silt. ‘Um… we’re going to have a problem here,’ the little blue pegasus comments as he sees more than double that number pouring in their general direction from several avenues.

After getting the fresh magazine in, Gearing starts backing up from the overturned mining cart as he reaches under his right foreleg with his muzzle. He bites down on the handle and quickly pulls the long blade from its sheath where it was hidden before transferring it to his hoof. He gives quiet thanks for the cloth face covering and how it didn’t prevent him from doing this. He also apologizes to it for making fun of it for most of the night. Gearing quickly attaches the long serrated blade to the mount on the end of his rifle as he quickly backpedals away from the advancing herd.

“Hey! Get us out of here!” the stallion unicorn yells as he beats on the inside of the cage.

“If scorpions weren’t bad enough, now ghouls?! They’ll tear us apart!” the mare screams as she huddles up next to the older stallion.

“Hey, where are you going! Come on, let us out, you can’t just leave us in here to die!” the stallion yells as Gearing backs up in front of them with no apparent intention to do anything for them.

Gearing looks over at them and yells, “Get to the center of the cage! They’re ghouls, but they’re still ponies. If you can’t get out, they can’t get in. Just stay out of their reach!” He raises his rifle and unleashes a torrent of bullets, emptying half of the magazine and dropping two more before he yells, “I’ll protect you!”

“You’re nuts!” the stallion yells as they both quickly scurry back away from the edge of the cage as a large group of ghouls come pouring into the area.

Gearing unloads the rest of the magazine into them, and when it clicks empty he’s more than a little annoyed by the fact that he’d actually killed less than he’d meant to. He runs over to the side towards the large shipping container not far away with a couple fifty-five gallon drums next to it, and as the closest two ghouls are getting near him, he thrusts out with the rifle, right into the first ghoul’s head, before hoping back, grabbing the fifty-five gallon drum next to him, and swinging it around open side first. With a sweeping scooping action he catches the ghoul as it jumps after him, and the ghoul ends up slamming right into the bottom of the fifty-five gallon drum head first. Gearing pushes forward, forcing the ghoul into a seating position onto its haunches. And as the drum goes up and over it upside down, he screams, “You two have fun!”

And the screams coming from the drum magnify as the ghoul thrashes around and gets its face unwillingly introduced to the already very angry scorpion that’s been trapped in the bottom of the drum since Gearing threw it. And, unlike how Gearing had surprised it, this ghoul had no such advantage and the scorpion instantly starts taking its frustrations out on it with mandibles, pincers, and tail stings unleashed at the fastest pace it can manage.

Gearing quickly grabs the rifle, kicks the dead ghoul off of the bayonet, and swiftly starts running away as other ghouls pour into the area.

Even though Gearing is in plain sight, and in a straight path, the ghouls notice the two unicorns off to the side, and most of them run over to the cage and start thrashing against it from all sides. The mare and stallion huddle in the center, and scream in terror as the ghouls try their best to get in at them. Their limbs flail through the gaps in the bars and their muzzles snap at them. And all around the pair all they see is writhing angry ghoulish flesh with glowing eyes staring at them.

Gearing runs up one of the large industrial conveyor machines, hopping over certain areas where the metal chain link mesh that the machine had been using to transport the ores had rusted through. Thankfully the rollers are still mostly intact so he makes good time until he gets up to the top of it where it would normally drop the ores off into some storage unit for shipping or sorting. But, instead, Gearing sits down, props up the rifle with his hind hooves as he rolls back, and sights down towards the slave cage.

The first time any one of them notices anything is wrong is when a ghoul that had used the others as an improvised equine ladder manages to get on top of the cage. As they are scrambling across the top, and trying to bite their way into the metal cage, their head explodes in a shower of black ichor and rotten chunks. The creature instantly goes still and limply falls down as its eyes stop looking at anything in particular.

The report of Gearing’s carbine screams out one after another, and several more ghouls fall down around the cage as they are busy trying to get at the couple. But the ghouls don’t respond to it. They have something far more interesting in front of them if they can only just reach it.

That is until the ghouls that had kept going after Gearing come around the bottom of the conveyor, reacquire sight on their prey, and let out a long inequine scream as they start scrambling up the conveyor belt towards Gearing. Instantly the surviving ghouls at the cage turn, look over and up as they follow the sound, and then answer their herdmates call before charging off to join them.

The couple looks around at the various corpses as they shake from fright. Then they look up and see Gearing shooting down from the conveyor belt a distance away. The elderly mare screams out with as much panic in her voice as she had a moment ago when she was terrified for her own safety, “Look out! The others are coming!”

On top of the conveyor belt Gearing rotates the gun around and shoots straight down the conveyor belt’s length at the ghouls charging up at him. Given this is his last magazine for this weapon, he decides to cut back on his intentional missing. Although, with the way things are swaying as the rickety machine has ghouls starting to clamor all over it, he’s actually missing more often then he likes anyway. Which only gets worse as other ghouls actually start climbing the framework of the conveyor machine straight up the sides towards him.

And when his carbine clicks empty, he rolls over onto his hooves, and pulls the carbine back as he prepares to defend himself from the coming horde. The first ghoul that manages to make it to him has a couple holes in its chest where a few well placed, yet ultimately impotent, rounds had already injured it. Gearing brings his rifle around, kissing the side of the ghoul’s head with the butt, and kicking it off to the side with the same momentum, before using that entire motion as a wide up to stab the next ghoul in the head. But before he gets the rifle back out of the fresh corpse, another ghoul jumps over the one he’d just stabbed, and ponypiles Gearing. He falls down onto the conveyor belt, onto his back, as a ghoul had managed to climb up the entire length of the conveyor belt, using just the frame, and came from the side to grab onto his hind leg and bite it as it yanks him down.

Gearing lets out a yell of anger, surprise, and pain as he slams into the conveyor belt with the ghouls closing in on him. The one that had jumped on top of him, he gets his hindleg under it, the one that isn’t currently being feasted upon by another ghoul, and heaves it up and off of him with a flinging kick that sends it up and off of himself and over the side of the machine. He reaches over, grabs his rifle with his forehooves, and then starts bashing on the ghoul that’s trying to eat through the boot on his hind leg. After smacking it off of himself enough to stand up, he rears up with the rifle to smack it with the rifle again, but another ghoul has managed to make it the full length of the conveyor, jumps into his side, and it completely knocks Gearing off his balance as the conveyor machine is already swaying wildly from the ruckus happening all over it.

The three go tumbling over the side, from the top, and the pair of unicorns watch in horror as Gearing falls down and disappears behind a collection of debris and shipping containers, with two ghouls clinging to his body the whole way down. They visibly wince when they hear the audible sound of the meaty crunch as the trio impact into the ground somewhere out of sight.

And the elderly couple start shivering and shaking as they hear the screeching calls of the ghouls, even after their guard had fallen from such a height. Over time the calls start settling down, and getting more quiet. Even the ones from inside of the mining building start tapering off without any further incitement. And, slowly, the mining compound turns eerily quiet. Where the only sounds are their own fretting, the howling of the wind through the bars of their cell, and the squeaking grinding sound as the old rusting equipment sways with the wind.

The stallion groans as he holds the mare close to him, “Young fool… he should have just made a run for it.”

“What are we going to do? I haven’t seen anyone else? We’re stuck in here!” the mare moans.

The stallion shakes his head. “He’d said we were getting transferred out today, remember? So somepony’s gotta come by for us sometime…”

She buries her face in his neck as she moans, “I almost hope the ghouls get them too… As much as I don’t want to starve to death in here, that just seems more fair.”

The stallion gives her a gentle shake as he chuckles morbidly, “Careful… you might just get your wish on that.” Then the two bury their faces in each other’s necks in mutual comfort.

A few minutes later a loud crunching sound catches their notice, before a banging metallic clang echoes out. And they look up in time to see Gearing dropping the metal fifty-five gallon drum to the side as he examines the destruction the scorpion and the ghoul had unleashed on each other. Apparently the ghoul didn’t take kindly to getting stung and bit. So it bit back. And the two have absolutely mangled each other as the scorpion had held onto the ghoul’s face and snipped and slashed large swaths of ghoulish flesh away as it struck it in the face, head, and eyes, again and again with its stinger.

But, just to make sure, Gearing uses the knife that functions as his carbine’s bayonet, and stabs them both in the head. He looks over at the unicorn pair and asks with a pant, “You two okay? Have you seen anymore?”

They stare at him with their mouth agape before the mare jumps towards the cage bars and screams, “You’re alive?! How?!” She looks him over and shakes her head as she says, “We watched you fall!”

Gearing flicks some filth off of his knife, then wipes the rest off on the side of his boot before putting it back into its sheath. “Yeah… that sucked.” He starts walking towards them, slowly, limping with a back hind leg as he says, “Thankfully the ghouls were kind enough to cushion my fall.”

‘The cab of that tractor buckling in under our weight helped too,’ the little blue pegasus in Gearing’s head groans.

The older stallion looks him over as he asks, “You’re not hurt are you?”

Gearing lets out a laugh before he says bitterly, “Nah, it fucking tickled.”

The stallion grins at him as he says, “I’ll be damned…”

Gearing lets out a sigh as he slowly sits down and stretches out his hind left leg. “Well, I’ll be there for sure, so you’ll be in good company,” Gearing replies with a snort. Gearing looks around as he asks, “Where the hell those scorpions come from? I’d been patrolling around so how the hell they just sneak in like that?”

The mare points off to the back by the kitchen area as she replies, “From that direction I think.”

Gearing nods as he says, “Okay, well, I’m going to go check it out. If you see anything yell… and I’ll come running.”

The mare smiles at him as she asks, “Again, you mean?”

Gearing looks over at her as he says flatly, “As many times as it takes.” He readjusts his carbine over his back as he turns and limps off towards the camp’s storage area to resupply.

---

Footnote:

Please Stand By. . .

Please Stand By. . .

Please Stand By. . .

Please Stand By. . .

Please Stand By. . .

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