“This doesn’t make any sense.”

I glance down at the mess of wires and metal that is my PipBuck before looking back down at the scene before me: a small valley nestled between a few mountains that stick out against the cloudy sky. And built into one of those mountains is a building complex. As far as the map on the screen is concerned, that complex over there is ‘Equestrian Defense Silo One’.

However, the granite sign next to me, the one I nearly rammed into because I was too busy reading, proudly proclaims this place as ‘The Lunar Institute of Rocket Research and Development’.

“I swear, this thing better not be broken again,” I mutter while banging my PipBuck against the granite sign, hoping that the map will correct itself. But It doesn’t. Because of course it doesn’t. Which still leaves the question: what is this place exactly?

Well, only one way to find out. I tighten the leather strap keeping my PipBuck to my foreleg, put away the old leatherbound book hovering in front of me, and begin walking down the broken road towards the complex itself.

My PipBuck has to be acting up again, there is no way this place can be a silo: Equestria never had any silos at any point in its history. There was no need for them. Not when megaspell chambers were more powerful, more precise, and nigh impossible for the zebras to counter.

Besides, if it’s true that this is a silo, then there would be hundreds or thousands of missiles stored just over there. With safety features that have probably rusted away after two hundred years of neglect and disuse. All armed to the teeth with warheads that could go off with the slightest nudge and send this entire place straight to Tartarus…

But this place is definitely not a silo, so I’m clearly worrying over nothing. I hope…

Though why anypony would build anything this close to dragon lands is beyond me. Dragons had a rather hostile attitude towards ponies, with a sizable majority allying with the zebras during the war. It just feels like they’re asking for some giant dragon to burn this place to the ground.

Or maybe not. This is about as out in the middle of nowhere as one can get and the whole complex does blend into the mountain from afar. If it wasn’t for the sign, I probably would have walked past and never noticed it.

Walking past the open gate, I make my way down the road, casually looking at the few rusted out motorwagons along the way. Nothing stands out as interesting until the symbol on a nearby truck catches my eye: a set of gears inside an apple-shaped box bisected by a sword. The symbol of the old Ministry of Wartime Technology.

Suddenly this place feels a lot more ominous than before.

Granted, they were the development and research branch of the Equestrian government, so their presence at a research facility isn’t all that out of place. It just doesn’t help that nearly every place where one of the Ministry’s presence is felt tends to be a death trap. Or worse.

I glance back at the gauss rifle on my back, held together by the power of duct tape and hope. Lots and lots of hope… Maybe it’s best to just turn around and forget that this place ever existed. Satisfying my curiosity isn’t worth the risk of accidentally running into whatever evil might still be lurking inside. And it’s not like I can’t find any answers once I finally make it into town.

‘If you make it to town,’ the little pony in my head says just as I turn around to leave. ‘It’s been, what, three days since you parted ways with that caravan? And the town is supposed to be four more days away? Do you even have enough supplies to make it there now?’

With some reluctance, I look over my inventory on my PipBuck. There’s still enough supplies to get me to town but not enough to keep going after that. However, with no caps and nothing to sell…

‘You should have stayed with the caravan,’ the little pony points out as I let out a frustrated sigh and look back at the truck. ‘They seemed like nice enough ponies. You could have worked for them for more supplies or caps until you got to the next town.’

Even if that would have worked, it’s too dangerous for me to stay around others for too long. No, it was good that I left when I did. Even if it puts me into bad situations like this.

Making my way to the front of the truck, my attention is drawn to the pony in the broken side-view mirror. At first, I don’t recognise the dark grey unicorn in a brown duster and old riot gear staring back at me. Then I notice the messy and unkempt dark green mane, the light green highlight going down his left side of his mane and tail, the light green eyes. And how dull and lifeless his colors look to me.

How did I turn from a bright and hopeful pony, convinced that he could fix the wasteland Equestria had become, into this broken and depressed pony?

A burning hatred stirs in my chest as the memory of a silver-winged griffon comes to mind. Along with an orange earth pony and a zebra and- I shove the memory back into its box before it can continue on.

Don’t think about them! There’s no need to think about them. Just, just forget about what happened back then and focus on the situation at hoof.

With a deep breath, I open the truck’s door and poke my head inside. To my disappointment, the cabin looks barren and, after a few minutes of searching, I give up and make my way to the back of the truck. The variously sized crates I find as I open up the tailgate certainly look promising. The fact that all of them look like somepony looked through them, less so.

The feeling that this place isn’t as well hidden as I originally thought grows with every empty crate I go through. Until I open up the last one and groan in frustration at finding it empty as well. Because of course all the crates would be empty! Even the large crates labelled “exhibits” are empty! Honestly, Luna, aren’t you supposed to be a benevolent goddess now? Couldn’t you give me a break for once and let me find something useful? Like more magical fusion cells to power my rifle with? Just a thought.

Though, why was the Ministry of Tech shipping exhibits to this place? What does a research facility need exhibits for?

Getting out of the back of the truck, I turn my attention towards the still ominous-feeling facility up ahead. Guess it can’t be helped. I straighten out my mane in the mirror (because Luna forbid I get shot for looking like an insane lunatic) before continuing down the road.

As I get closer to the entrance, I note the different display missiles along the path. Maybe these are the “exhibits” that were in some of those crates? The missiles look like they could be taken apart and stored inside of them, so it is possible. It’s also surprising how detailed each one is considering how long these display models must have been out here for. Almost like somepony has been taking care of them after all these years…

Unfortunately, the plaques that proudly stand in front of each model weren’t given the same care and attention: two hundred years’ worth of wear and tear has made nearly all of them unreadable. A shame, really, since most of them don’t look like the balefire missiles sometimes seen in old newspapers and such. What is the story behind all of these missiles? Why was this place researching so many different models? Hay, why was the Ministry of Tech involved in all of this in the first place?

And looking at the only readable plaque left standing — the one in front of the largest and most imposing model missile, reading the words ‘L33-742A Eclipse Missile’ on it — the question once again pops into my mind: are there hundreds of these Eclipse Missiles sitting under my hooves, all waiting to explode at the slightest nudge?

“Quit being silly, this place isn’t a silo,” I mutter to myself before moving towards the double doors leading inside. “This is just some abandoned facility out in the middle of nowhere. All I need to do is walk in, grab whatever valuable stuff I can find, pick up a book or three about this place, hopefully find more MFCs for my rifle, and then leave before something bad happens. I can do this.”

Pulling my rifle out, I hesitantly open the door a crack before poking my head inside.

It’s hard to decide how to feel about what I’m seeing. On the one hoof, there isn’t an unexpected scene of pure gore in here. No corpses hanging from the ceiling, no pools of blood on the floor, and no sadistic ponies around with a vested interest in shoving sharp objects into my body.

On the other hoof, there’s nothing really here at all.

Well, that’s not entirely true. The large lobby definitely has a few things in it, like the granite statue of the moon behind the U-shaped receptionist’s desk being the main feature. But there doesn’t appear to be anything worth scavenging in the room. With the lack of dust around the place, I wonder if this is a sign that all of the good salvage is gone and I’m just wasting my time.

No sense giving up here, though. I cautiously enter the room, taking in the musty air while carefully scanning the place for any hidden dangers. Two set of stairs flank the receptionist desk on each wall leading up to a balcony overhead. Up ahead are three doors, one on each base of the stairs, and a double set behind the statue.

The one to my left is wide open.

I slowly walk over to the receptionist’s desk and take cover while pointing my rifle at the open door. The hallway beyond looks empty, save for the broken remains of a side door on the floor. Maybe another scavenger decided they’d had enough and decided that using a shotgun round to open the door was worth the potential salvage on the other side. While I can appreciate why somepony would destroy a door like this (locks being the bane of my existence as well), it does mean that somepony was here. And they might still be wandering around this place.

Activating the Eyes Forward Sparkle spell on my PipBuck, I scan around the place, but no green or red dots appear in my vision. Which should mean there isn’t anypony around, friend or foe. But this is my PipBuck after all. Weaving together spells from different pieces of a PipBuck’s technical manual doesn’t create the most stable spell matrix for any PipBuck to run on. Let alone mine.

The Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell was annoying enough to figure out. Who knew it actually speeds up the user’s perceptions instead of slowing down time? And getting it to cue up actions and properly execute them once the spell releases was a nightmare. At least both it and E.F.S. work properly now… Most of the time.

Nevermind, let’s make sure that there isn’t anypony over there.

As I start moving away from cover, I notice the nearby terminal on the desk. The monitor has a giant crack in it, but, for the most part, it still looks usable. It would be easy to jack in my PipBuck and download whatever files might still be in there, which might include some information about what was going on in this place, and maybe even a useful map pointing out where the storage rooms are. I can spare a few seconds to hack into it, right?

‘Sure, if you want to let the other scavenger get the drop on you while you’re distracted,’ the little pony says while shaking his head.

Assuming there is a scavenger here. Outside of one destroyed door and the unusual cleanliness of the place, there isn’t anything to suggest that there’s another pony here. And it will save me a lot of time in the long run if this terminal has the information I need. Especially if it contains an admin password to a room full of pre-war books, trinkets to sell, maybe a new magical energy weapon, among other things.

Alright, it’s decided then. Let’s crack this terminal open.

Hooking my PipBuck up to the broken terminal, I try to access the system when the lights above me flicker off and on. Huh, guess this place has a working generator somethere. Which probably means there are turrets here that are still operational.

‘Oh, your turret system isn’t working? Well lucky for you, Intrepid here is amazing with Pre-War Tech,’ the voice of the silver-winged gryphon echoes in my head. ‘Aren’t you, Intrepid?’

I shake my head and focus on my PipBuck, which, confusingly, doesn’t show that it’s connected to the terminal at all. Pulling out my screwdriver, I remove the terminal’s cover before opening up my PipBuck and directly connecting the two together. It takes a few tries, but I eventually get a solid connection and manage to download everything on it. With a triumphant smile on my face, I quickly unhook my PipBuck and… then frown again when it becomes apparent that all I’ve retrieved is a list of corrupted files and data.

Teaches me for prioritising curiosity over common sense. Again.

Hold on, what’s this? Mixed in with all of the nonsense is a message labeled ‘New Job Details’. Selecting it brings up a garbled mess on my screen, but there are some bits of actual Ponish that I can make out:

Silky Stars,

First of all, welcome back. I hope you enjoyed your vacation. 596f75206d61792068617665206 865617264 some things 32f5 have happened while you were gone 07365742074 6865207265636 f7264207374726 1696768742e

652073696e636520796f75207765726520676f6e652e First of all, the Ministry of Wartime Technology 420646f776e our facility 616e64207475726e20697420696e746f a museum. As a result, 74686579206116e64206c657420 0626520 taking over 6d7926f6e20616e6420 you’ll be working 756e6465722

I know what you're thinking, 69746e66169722e You’ve worked so hard and put so much of your soul into the project 746863206 c696b652726 20e6720 everything we’ve accomplished here. If it’s any consolation, I feel the same way.

4e6f6e6207 4686572659273206e6f746 8696e672652063616e20646f20 right now 746f20 6b6696c6c treat this place right. 4776520626f 76f6e9274 care about 7468697320706 656206f7574 the heart of this place, 7265706c6 72207368616d206f66 a museum, and 6c6175676 talk about 8652073 696c6c7920 ponies that wanted “to walk where Luna once walked.”

492073686f7 6d65656d20612 06c69746 remember our motto: Always aim for the moon. 206d69 572652028616e 6421206292e As we have always done before, a75737426f6666 20616e64 keep trying. 56e206966206974207461 6b65756e647265640746f2067 6542c

e7977 92c20 part of the arrangement is that you are now in charge of the new museum 4206f66 20746865207 3696c6f2e Just 6d616b65 4686f73 f747320 4d696e6973747279 keep the place pristine like it should be. Put on a good face, smile that wonderful smile of yours, and tell ponies what we do here. 5768617420776520 652e204920686 c6f73742066 96e206f757 26c6

4920686176656e e280997420676976656e20757020 6f6e206f7572 2064726 5616d2c205369 6c6b7 92e2049e28 09 96c6c20

5746865722e204920 70726f6d6973652e
-R3472y23453es

“This doesn’t make any sense.” I find myself uttering for the second time today.

Ok, from what I can gather, the sign outside was correct in that this place was a research facility at some point. But the Ministry of Wartime Technology took over? Or maybe they’ve always owned this place and I’m reading this wrong? Then, at one point, somepony decided that this facility needed to be converted into a museum for some reason? And what is this about ponies that wanted to walk where Luna once walked anyway?

What the hay was going on with this place?!

With a groan of frustration, I close the message and glare at the broken terminal. Well, if it isn’t going to provide any useful information, then it better have some good parts left in it that I can pawn off when I get to town. It’s not like anypony is going to mind if I vent my frustration by stripping this stupid thing for parts, right?

After ripping out whatever useful components I can from the stupid terminal, I return my attention towards the open door and walk into the hallway beyond. Maybe there’s another terminal somewhere that will help me make sense out of what I just read.

More signs of the supposed scavenger’s search become apparent when I look inside of the room: junk items lie discarded on the floors of each room along with toppled bookcases, tables, broken chairs, and the shattered remains of yet another door on the other side. From the look of things, they didn’t find whatever they were looking for. I would probably feel a sense of kinship towards this mysterious pony, and their skilled use of shotgun lock picking, if this didn’t also mean that my chances of finding valuable supplies just decreased sharply.

Still, there might be a chance that said scavenger might have missed something.

As I start to sort through what is here, I uncover a blood trail on the ground, going from where I’m standing all the way through the now mostly doorless frame.

Keeping my rifle close, I cautiously poke my head through the frame before going inside and following the blood trail into the next room.

I bite my tongue to keep myself from swearing.

Blood splatters and deep gashes decorate the floor and walls of… whatever this room was originally. Terminals, chairs, cubicle walls, all lie scattered on the floor or smashed against the walls of this place.

Along with the mutilated bodies of a few dead ponies lying in their own blood.

Oddly enough, despite the bodies looking like they’ve been rotting for a while now, the blood they are lying in seems fresh. Like the battle that took place here was recent, though how recent is anypony’s guess at this point. It honestly looks like a bunch of feral ghouls were in the wrong place at the wrong time when something decided to tear through this place.

At least with those cuts on their bodies, they’re most certainly dead now. And definitely not just playing dead at the moment, waiting for me to drop my guard before rushing me, tearing me into tiny shreds…

Taking a deep breath, I cautiously approach one of the bodies, poking it with my muzzle of my rifle and quickly teleporting back a few feet when its leg twitches. Thankfully, that’s all the movement it does and the other body doesn’t respond when I prod it. Proving once and for all that they are, indeed, dead.

Hopefully this doesn’t mean there are feral ghouls roaming around this place. After all, they do love gathering in Pre-War places like this. And the last thing I need right now is a repeat of what happened back in that abandoned maintenance tunnel back home. If I bump into a pack of feral ghouls here before finding more MFCs for my rifle...

“Alright, focus,” I mutter to myself before walking towards one of the open doors. “There are no signs of feral ghouls running around this place. Just long-dead bodies that won’t hurt me. And whoever, or whatever, tore through this place is probably long gone by now.”

‘Or maybe it’s hiding somewhere,’ the little pony in my head suggests. ‘Just waiting for some stupid pony to bump into it and become its next meal.’

“But E.F.S. will pick that up before that happens… maybe,” I mutter while cautiously poking my head and rifle through the open door. “Not like I have the option of leaving. I’m going to need a lot more than what I currently have if I’m going to make it safely to that town nearby. Assuming the town even exists.”

After making sure nothing is waiting for me on the other side, I head down the long corridor, stopping every few feet or so to check out each room I come across.

While each one turns out to be devoid of ponies, ghouls, and, to my eternal annoyance, anything worth salvaging, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.

It doesn’t help that I keep catching glimpses of red on my E.F.S., suggesting that I’m being stalked by some monster or-

*Crunch*

The gooey insides of a crushed radroach drips from my hoof as I lift it up and wince in disgust. “Or it could have been a radroach. Figures,” I say with resignation while taking out an old rag to wipe my hoof off with. “Just watch, a whole swarm of radroaches will come out of the woodwork and kill me while I’m trying to scrape this stuff off. All because I wasn’t paying close attention to my surroundings and stepped on their friend by accident. That would make for an interesting story to tell at the bar for sure.”

I guess I should be grateful that the worst thing I’ve bumped into so far is a radroach. But why didn’t it move out of the way when I was about to step on it? Actually, why does it look half eaten? And why is there a damp breeze hitting the back of my neck all of a sudden?

Against my better judgement, I look up to see a rather large, bipedal, dog-like beast hovering over me. A hellhound. Hovering over me. With blood dripping from its mouth.

“Umm, H-Hello there,” I manage to say as my eyes drift along its grey fur down to its razor sharp claws that are also covered in blood. “M-My apologies, I think I just stepped on your, umm, pet?”

“Lunch,” The hellhound says with a toothy grin that makes my blood run cold. “But that’s ok, I just found something better.”

“Ah, I see.” I reply back before teleporting away, his claws slicing through the air as I reappear further down the corridor. While the hellhound looks shocked at my sudden disappearance, I start running as fast as my legs can carry me.

The last thing I want is to fight off the living incarnation of death with only three shots for a rifle that is falling apart at the seams.

Behind me, the hellhound chuckles rather loudly as his voice carries through the corridor. “Oh, this is going to be fun!”

“For whom exactly?!” I shout back before turning the corner, passing through some double doors, and barely catching myself before running off the catwalk on the other side.

Below me lies some kind of underground loading bay, with a truck half buried under the rubble of the access tunnel, a lot of catwalks, and—

I hear claws tearing into the ground behind me, and I turn around in time to see the hellhound racing towards me. Immediately, I activate S.A.T.S. and-

… S.A.T.S., I need you to turn on now!

The hellhound’s sharp claws tear into my shoulder just as I barely teleport away. Reappearing next to the half-buried truck, I glance at the new gash that is now bleeding on my duster; the little pony shakes his head at my annoyance with the damage and points out that I could have just lost a leg right now.

Three shots. That’s all I have to take down a monster that can easily rip me apart like a wet tissue. How in Luna’s good name am I supposed to do that?

Yet, my eyes feel drawn to the blood seeping out of my wound. As if to remind me that there is another way to deal with this hellhound.

N-No! I can’t resort to that! I won’t! After what happened last time, I—

My opponent jumps off the catwalk and lands right on the front of the truck, grabbing my attention again as his weight crushes the hood like paper. Were hellhounds always this strong?!

In a fit of panic, I teleport back a few feet before blindly firing at him, cursing my bad luck when the shot only grazes his side.

One.

“That was a warning shot!” I yell, using my teleport spell to swap the spent MFC with a fresh one from my saddlebags. “Now, how about you stop trying to kill me, I give you a sweet roll, and we go our separate ways?… Please?”

The hellhound gives me a rather incredulous look as he tilts his head at me. “Are you stupid or something?”

“I prefer foalishly idealistic myself.” I point my rifle at his head. “And I prefer not to spill blood if I don’t have to.”

A chuckle escapes the hellhound’s lips. “But I like it when ponies bleed!” He yells before lunging at me, his claws digging into the cement just as I teleport away. I fire another round at his back, the bullet biting into his shoulder as he whips around to glare at me.

Two.

Spying two doors near me, I dash towards one of them, hoping to get through in time to escape. I barely move a few feet before the hellhound cuts me off. There’s barely enough time to teleport back before his claws swipe towards me.

Blood trickles from the new cut on my forehead. Wiping it from my eyes, I once again teleport away as my opponent lunges towards the ground.

Now on all fours, the hellhound scrapes his claws on the cement as he turns to face me. My rifle shakes as I take a few steps back, only to press my back against a wall.

For a brief moment, we stand there, his eyes fixated on my rifle while I desperately try to calm down enough to properly aim it at his head.

Then he charges with reckless abandon and, taking a deep breath, I fire off my rifle.

Three.

Three shots. And that last one only grazes his scalp. Too late, I try to teleport away only to watch in terror as the hellhound is now on top of me, wincing as his claws reach in for the killing blow and…

Why isn’t there any pain? Why hasn’t he reduced me to bloody ribbons yet? I blink and look to see his claws a good few inches from my head, frozen in mid-strike. Letting out a deep sigh, it dawns on me that S.A.T.S. has finally activated. About time it did!

Not that it does me any good right now. I’m out of MFCs for my rifle. And considering how the hellhound is blocking my view of the rest of the room, teleporting away is pretty much impossible at this point.

So now the only option left is to wait for the spell to fail and to die a horrible death. Out of all the worst things that could happen, this is definitely the Worst. Possible. Thing.

O-Ok, ok, calm down, I’m not dead yet. Just running on borrowed time.

My rifle is still pointed at his head, so if I can manage one more shot from my rifle, the knockback might give me enough room to escape. Unfortunately, I’ll need something else to power the rifle. But MFCs are just concentrated bursts of magic that— OH DON’T YOU DARE INCH ANY CLOSER!

Alright, this spell isn’t going to hold for much longer. Let’s condense my thinking here. Gauss rifle need MFCs. MFCs equals magic. What else has magic, though? Well, I’m practically a well of magical energy. Maybe I can link my magic into the MFC chamber for the rifle and use my reserves to power it?

Not like I have much choice here.

Queuing up some headshots, I funnel as much magic as I can into my rifle. With a deep breath and a quiet prayer for a miracle, I execute the spell.

Indescribable pain sears through my horn as my ears ring from the shot of my rifle. With my eyes shut tightly and my forelegs clutching my head, I slump towards the ground screaming in pain.

Note to self: use a magical surge protector next time.

When the pain finally dies down, I open my eyes. The first thing that catches my attention is the now-headless hellhound on the ground. And partly chestless as well. The throbbing pain in my head keeps me from feeling disgusted with the kind of overkill I managed to inflict on him.

Although, the odd thing is all of the wires and pieces of metal that are scattered with the… bits of his head still remaining. Did this hellhound have cybernetics implanted in his head?

My blood runs cold as my ears pick up the one sound I had hoped never to hear again in my entire life: the roaring sound of hungry ghouls.

And that last shot woke them up, didn’t it? Dear Luna, what the hay did I do to tick you off today?!

Bodies slam against the two doors on the main floor while a few rotting ponies pour in from the double door above. They look down at me with hunger in their eyes. Not good. Not good at all.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any other way to get out of this room. There is a makeshift cage in between the two doors with some kind of box attached to it, but being trapped in a cage while the room fills with hungry ghouls looking to eat me isn’t all that appealing to me.

The doors on the main floor give way and more ghouls start pouring into the room. Quickly grabbing my rifle, I wait for most of them to come close to me before teleporting over to the entrance of the cage; a sharp pain sears through my horn as I do so.

Before it subsides, a ghoul tackles me into the cage, causing its door to swing shut as we slam into the wall on the other side. The ghoul bites into my right foreleg, causing me to yelp in pain before I bash its head into the cage wall to force it to let go. I repeatedly slam the butt of my rifle into the ghoul’s head as it slumps to the ground, reducing its rotting head into bloody pulp.

Sweat runs down my face and I take deep breaths as my body shakes from the experience. It takes all of my self-control not to teleport myself back out of the cage when a ghoul slams itself into the door. Ignoring the ghoul’s attempts to claw its way in, I quickly lock the door before noticing the box from before, with a row of three buttons next to an old speaker. I try every button on there, hoping that something, anything would happen.

Nothing happens.

“What I wouldn’t give for a 9mm right now.” I slump down against the wall, pain still pulsing through my head as more ghouls ram the cage to no effect. Then again, a 9mm didn’t do much against the feral ghouls in that abandoned maintenance tunnel back home. At least I’m not on the wrong side of the locked door this time around. For what little good that does me now. With literally nowhere else to go, I pull out my book and turn on the radio, before letting out a bitter laugh when static comes out of it.

Of course there wouldn’t be a radio signal here. I’m stuck in the middle of a mountain range. Which means there’s no chance of anypony receiving any call for help. No chance of listening to one of Velvet Remedy’s songs to calm my nerves.

No chance of some stupid griffon and his hired companions to save me from these ghouls like back at the maintenance tunnel.

“Alright, who’s out there at this time of the day?”

Startled, I look around before realizing that the raspy voice is coming from the speaker next to me. Clearing my throat, I press a button at random and silently pray that this box still works. “Umm, hello, my name’s Intrepid Scholar! I’m in a bit of trouble at the—”

“Who?” the raspy voice asks.

“Intrepid Scholar,” I repeat while another ghoul slams into the gate, “Not to be rude, but there are feral ghouls here and—”

A heavy sigh crackles through the speaker. “Let me guess, you woke up the sick and they are making a mess of the place up there. Honestly, this is why we… nevermind. You didn’t kill any of them, did you?”

I blink at the comment before looking at the bloody remains of the ghoul. “Umm?” I flinch in pain while teleporting the remains outside of the cage. As some of the ghouls leave to investigate it, I turn my attention back to the raspy voice. “D-Does it really matter?! They’re trying to break through this cage and kill me here!”

“Kill you? Why would they...” There’s a moment’s silence before the raspy voice asks “You’re not a ghoul, are you?”

Today just keeps getting weirder and weirder. “Umm, no? No I’m not. Is that going to be a problem?”

A groan crackles through the speaker, punctuated by another slam that causes part of the cage to bend slightly. “N-Nevermind,” I said quickly. “Look, can we have this discussion face to face? I can’t really concentrate when there are feral ghouls bashing against the cage here!”

The cage jolts to life and suddenly it dawns on me that I’m in an elevator as it moves down the elevator shaft. The ghouls instinctively back off and watch me descend with their eerily dead gaze.

“When you hit the bottom, go to the door, page the box next to it, and wait. There.” The raspy voice orders before a faint click signals the end of our conversation.

Slumping back down against the wall, I watch as my view of the room is slowly replaced by cold concrete. Well, this day took a rather sharp turn for the absurd there, didn’t it? At least I’m still alive and breathing. For all that that’s worth, anyway.

Sick. That’s what my raspy sounding savior called those feral ghouls. Maybe he’s a ghoul himself? Probably. And not a friendly one from the sounds of it. But then, if I survived the amount of magical radiation that would kill other ponies and come out looking like a zombie, I’d have a hard time being nice either. Especially considering how most ponies tend to treat ghouls.

Maybe the reason he didn’t want me to kill them was because they were his friends before they went feral. Calling them sick might be his way of holding out hope that they might snap out of it, that things will go back to the way they were before. If only that were possible. Ghoulification isn’t kind to the pony mind, assuming they didn’t completely lose it right after the end happened. Once they go feral, no amount of cybernetics or magic will bring them back. It’s foalish to think otherwise.

Not like I’m one to talk about ponies being foalish, though. Given my own reasons for being out here in the first place.

Regardless, I should be thankful that he was kind enough to let me in. Maybe he’ll have some supplies I can work for or some knowledge on how to get to the next town? Hay, maybe he knows the history behind this place and the model rockets outside. That would be nice.

Opening my book, I calmly turn the pages while enjoying the really slow elevator ride down. Right, if Luna’s willing, I’ll get my answers, trade for some useful things my savior is willing to part with, and then leave before anything else happens.

Lights along the elevator shaft flicker to life and the elevator shakes briefly as a layer of metal slides into place, cutting off my view of the room above.

The little pony in my head sighs. ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’

Congratulations! You’ve survived long enough to level up! Lucky you!

New Perk: Magical Energy Transfer

Through a combination of quick thinking and sheer dumb luck, you have discovered a way to use yourself as a power supply for magical-powered devices. However, since most magical technology isn’t designed with this kind of interaction, there’s a chance for the device to overload and painfully surge back towards the source, among other dangers that may result from careless use of this ability.