Each of the three species of pony is intrinsically linked to a part of the world, and that link is a part of who that pony is. Earth ponies are linked to the ground beneath their hooves, drawing strength from the earth and knowing how to care for it. Unicorns are sensitive to the natural magic that pervades Equestria, channeling it through their horns and bending it to their will. Earth pony strength and skill and unicorn magic may be fantastic in their own rights, and downright essential to civilized life in some cases, but if you ask any pegasus if they’d give up their wings for either they would laugh in your face.

This is because pegasi are connected to the sky, and that gives us boundless freedom. Sure, the surface world is big, but it is ultimately finite. You can dig into the earth, but that requires great effort whereas going up for a pegasus is effortless. Even if we are technically stopped by the end of the atmosphere and the great dark void beyond, here in Equestria we can go where we want when we want. That’s why pegasus wings are so study, because to deny them from us is to deny us an essential part of our soul as a race. All this is why I can say with absolute certainty that waking up with my wings bound and immovable was a sensation that rivaled leaving my friends behind.

I woke up feeling wrong. I had the horrible feeling that the ceiling was collapsing on me, even when I looked and saw the rough stone celling was still firmly in place. I tried to flex my wings, and realized with a cold horror that I couldn’t. Looking over my shoulder I saw a band of iron had been wrapped around my mid-section pinning my wings to my side. My hooves were unbound, but that didn’t do me a lot of good. Chains were attached to the sides of the band and connected to the floor by anchors, making sure I stayed put.

I spent the next several minutes futilely trying to break my bonds. No matter how I strained, I wasn’t strong enough to wrench the chains from the floor, and even if I could I had no way of slipping the band. It was locked by a latching mechanism that would take a unicorn’s magic to use, and when I tried sucking in my gut to possibly slip out, it magically shrunk to accommodate. Screaming for help proved to be a bad idea, I had a pounding headache from when I was knocked out and yelling made my cell echo painfully. Unable to free myself I did my best to ignore the claustrophobic sensation, and mounting fear, and took stock of my surroundings.

I was in some kind of holding cell, the rough stone walls suggesting a cave. I had been lying on the bare floor in the center of the room, where the chains held me. There was a solid iron door in front of me with a single slat in it that let in a chink of light. Other than that the room was featureless, no bed or windows, not even a bucket. With nothing else to do and no way to free myself, I lay down once again and rested my forehead against the cool stone.

I don’t know when I fell asleep or when I woke up, the little source of light I had never changed so I had no way to measure the passage of time. All I had was the fact that I was painfully hungry, thirsty, and that the lack of commodes was becoming uncomfortable. The pounding in my head had gotten worse, probably from the dehydration. I stood as straight as I could, the chains pulling taught with my knees barely unbent. I strained against the chains, praying that I’d break free. The muscles in my legs burned as I struggled, sweat beading on my forehead. One drop of sweat rolled into my eye, and I instinctively threw up a hoof to wipe it out. That caused me to overbalance, landing painfully on my side.

I lay there panting, my legs burning and my side throbbing in time with my head. I wanted nothing more than to use my talent to chill the floor I was laying on and rest my head against it. But with my wings still firmly bound I could only close my eyes and hope that somepony would come for me soon. Maybe by some miracle Scout could track me to wherever I was and free me. Of course, that was if he even wanted to, after I abandoned him.

My breathing thundered in my ears as I lay there. Having my eyes closed didn’t help the terrible feeling of isolation. Without my wings I was cut off from the sky, I had willfully abandoned my friends, and now I was locked in a cell with no signs of life outside of it. Not even my captors cared enough to help me, I was going to die alone and forgotten in here. I felt tears leak out my closed eyelids, precious water I couldn’t afford to waste but I couldn’t stop them from coming. The surface world and everypony I cared about was going to die, and I’d be rotting in this cell the whole while. I curled up and cried quietly until I fell asleep again.

My sleep had not been entirely dreamless, but in my weakened state the dreams were little more than muddled colors and sensations. Fear was followed closely by anxiousness which had been replaced by joy and so on. Images of my friends and family flashed by and were quickly replaced by Wasteland monsters. By the time I awoke I was more exhausted than when I fell asleep. My eyelids had stuck together from the dried tears, which didn’t terribly bother me. Looking around my cell would only depress me further.

To make matters worse, I was in no better shape physically than I was mentally. I was still curled up, but this was to ease the pains of my cramping stomach. Meanwhile my throat continued to burn dully, and my head pulsed painfully in time with my heartbeat. I had no idea how long I had been locked up, but I was certain I couldn’t survive much longer. Eyes clenched tight I groaned pitifully, even the meager chink of light illuminating my cell was hurting my eyes.

Wait, did the light just shift? Forcing my eyes open, I looked up and saw a figure moving past the door, shadowing the light. “Hello?” I called out weakly, my voice little more than a parched whistle. Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, I tried again. “Is anypony there?” Audible, at least. The shadow stopped. “Help me, please!” I called as loudly as I could.

A sharp, avian eye appeared in the slat, glaring down at me. I could see black feathers surrounding the eye. “Poor little pony’s not looking so good. Thirsty, little pony? Hungry too? Don’t worry, we’ll deal with you soon.” The figure walked away, a feline tail briefly appearing in the opening.

Griffons. I had been captured by griffons. That meant I was in Talon Mountain, near the peak. The thought of being above the clouds again was equal parts joyful and terrifying. On the one hoof I was back in my natural habitat, wings or no wings, but on the other, practically everything that lived up here wanted me dead. My captors were on that list but frankly I had been too concerned with the Enclave to worry about them. Now I had no choice in the matter.

The griffon cackled as he left, the sound echoing. I hoped that “soon” wouldn’t be long, my vision was already swimming from the dehydration. Even the strangling loneliness took a backseat to my baser needs. My concept of the passage of time was already distorted by the unwavering light, but seconds seemed to stretch under my distress to the point where minutes felt like hours.

I wasn’t sure when I lost the ability to control my bladder, all I know was that I was tempted to drink my own urine to slake my thirst. If I could have moved to do so, and I might have, but my bonds prevented me. The chains were short enough that I couldn’t fully stand, let alone twist around. My mind was fogged, thoughts sticking together like they were coated in sweat. Somewhere amidst my clustered thoughts I came to a realization, they were doing this on purpose. Whatever they had brought me here for they clearly wanted me as mentally unstable as possible. The realization didn’t do me a lot of good, knowing why I was suffering did little to ease the suffering itself.

As if on cue, the metal door clanged open, admitting more light and a pair of griffons. The half-avian half-feline creatures would have looked ridiculous if they weren’t so clearly dangerous. My jailors were heavily muscled and wore battle saddles laden with heavy weaponry, though I was too out of it to care. The larger of the two, an ebon feathered male, stalked towards me. “Poor little pony,” he growled, grabbing a clump of my mane in one talon. Yanking my head so I was forced to look into his eyes, he clacked his beak inches from my face. “You look half dead. If it were up to me you’d be all dead, but the old harpy needs you. Today’s your lucky day, little pony.”

With his free talon he took out a bottle of water, uncapped it with his beak, and pouring the contents down my throat. The water tasted vile, was lukewarm, and probably irradiated. Despite that I drank greedily, spluttering some up in my desperate efforts to slake my thirst. All too soon he moved the bottle and dropped my head, his razor talon taking some of my gray mane with it. I coughed violently, having breathed in some of the water. It was better, but nowhere near enough and I was still starving. “Food, please.” I choked out. “More water…”

The jailor cackled. “Greedy little pony! Just like all the others, hm? We decide if you get more.” As he taunted me, he unhooked the chains binding me to the floor. My partially rehydrated brain screamed at me to attack, to run, to do something, but my body was too weak to comply.

The jailor grabbed my mane again, tossing me towards his companion. I stumbled into the other griffon. This one had tawny feathers and seemed to not find as much amusement in this as his friend. “Come with us, our Matriarch will see you now.” He made it sound like I had a choice.

We made our way down the natural stone corridor, which was lit every few feet by enchanted gems. The griffons flanked me on both sides, staying just behind me so they could easily shoot me in the head if I tried anything. They needn’t have worried, it took everything I had just to put one hoof in front of the other, escape wasn’t an option.

I smelled the griffons long before I saw them. I had actually experienced the smell of griffon before, and it wasn’t something easily forgotten; a sickly mix of sweat, blood, and “lived-in” nesting. When I was a filly, my brothers had been deployed to Talon Mountain. They had been gone for weeks, coincidentally some of the happiest weeks of my young life, and had come home reeking of griffon. The smell alone had been enough reason to avoid them.

Now the smell was overwhelming. I resisted the urge to gag so as not to piss off the jailors. We had taken several turns that I hadn’t been able to follow in my head, and had entered a wider hallway. I could now hear the griffons, raucous voices punctuated by the occasional screech echoing off the stone walls. The voices grew louder as I was marched into the main rookery, the heart of the griffon nest.

This was one of the few chambers that had been shaped artificially. The circular room had a low terrace around it, on which rested a large number of griffons. To my left sat an old, grey harpy whose perch was slightly higher than the others. The Matriarch. One of the jailors shoved me into the center of the room and the griffons redoubled their yelling. I couldn’t understand what they were saying through the screeching, but felt it was nothing good.

The harpy let out a piercing shriek, silencing the room. I winced at the sound, folding down my ears. After making sure she had silence, the Matriarch turned to me. She was no bigger than any other griffon, certainly no bigger than I was. Truth be told she was rather scrawny in her old age. Despite that, her voice was strong and clear as she addressed me. “Who are you, little pony?”

My first instinct was to lie, an irrational part of me didn’t want to say my name above the clouds incase the Enclave heard. But here in the heart of griffon territory my biggest worry was that the chimeric creatures grew bored of me, so I answered. “I’m Sleet Gray.”

“Well Sleet Gray, maybe you can tell me what the Enclave is doing with dirt ponies on my mountain.”

I stared dumbly at the harpy for a half a minute, my starving brain trying to piece together the question. She thought I knew that? Why would I know that? Before my exile I was just a civilian, nopony outside the military knew that. My brothers certainly hadn’t told me. My growling stomach made it even more difficult to concentrate, let alone comprehend. “What?”

Faster than I could have reacted even if I wasn’t completely out of it, the black feathered jailor leapt forward slammed me to the ground. I bounced painfully off the stone as the watching griffons roared in approval. I folded down my ears and threw my hooves over my head against the noise. Another piercing shriek sent a lance of pain through my brain and silenced the flock behind me.

I peeked from under my hooves, the harpy staring imperiously down at me. “I asked you a question, Sleet Gray. I want an answer.” Her voice sounded tinny to my ringing ears. “Why are dirt ponies on my mountain?”

The pressure in my brain had expanded behind my eyes, but I managed an answer this time. “I don’t know…”

Black Feathers grabbed the enchanted iron band, his talons digging into my back. He flung me towards the harpy and I smashed into the terrace. White hot pain shot through my back from the point of impact, making me scream. I lay there, trying to focus through the numerous points of pain, when I felt the harpy’s talons dig into my mane. She lifted me up to eye level, glaring at me. Her eyes were a cold blue, bloodshot, and conveyed no mercy. “Bullshit you don’t.” She said quietly. “You were below the clouds, you wore a fancy coat, had a fancy gun, and were carrying this.” She held up the Recollector in her other talon. “You mean to tell me the Enclave is just giving away toys like this to civilians? That they are just letting anyone go below the clouds without the brand?”

I didn’t have enough water in me to cry from the pain. My breath came in labored gasps as I spoke. “I’m not Enclave.”

Dropping the Recollector, she grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the wall behind her. “Then why do you still have your Mark?” She asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“Because I’m not a Dashite.” I choked out. “I’m a threat.”

This clearly intrigued the old bird. She lessened her grip on my throat, but did not put me down. “How can one little pegasus be a threat to the whole Enclave?” She asked.

“You know Drill Sergeant Storm Banks?” I asked. “The one who trains the ponies at Coltarado to come kill you?” The harpy nodded. I could feel adrenaline singing in my veins, clearing my mind just enough to speak in fuller sentences. “I’m his daughter, the one who killed his wife and son, and I know what the Enclave is planning to do to the surface.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as the griffons digested that. “So you hold their dirty little secret, huh?” The harpy eventually asked. I could see the gears turning in her mind. “And now I have you, shouldn’t be too hard to negotiate them away. Turn you over and we get our mountain back.”

I felt my stomach drop down a pit. “That wouldn’t work.” I said quickly. “Like you said, I’m one little pegasus. Do you really think they will give up on Talon’s resources just for turning me over? They need this mountain! Turning me over buys you a week while they try and execute me, then they come back, and with reinforcements!”

“Reinforcements?” She asked quizzically.

“All those search parties combing the Wastes looking for me? With me dead they’ll have nothing better to do than come here for your head!” Now I had their attention. Looking around the room, I could see every steely eye locked on me, but I could also see something else. I saw empty roosts, and members of the flock sporting various injuries. Even with my mind a mess I could see it clear as day, they couldn’t hold out forever; and they certainly could not against an Enclave bolstered in both numbers and morale. Whether they had admitted it to themselves or not, they needed every advantage they could get, and I could give them one. “You keep me alive, we split the Enclave’s attention. Every soldier they send down below to find me isn’t one beating down your door, and I have a plan to stop what they are going to do to the surface.” I took a deep breath and gambled. “If we work together, we can destroy them

For a few seconds, silence. Then the griffons had erupted at my proposal, screeching and cawing madly. The harpy keened loudly, calling for silence, but the flock refused to heed her. My ears were ringing painfully from the din. She gnashed her beak in irritation before turning to my jailor. “Clavicle! Take the prisoner!” She tossed me towards the ebon feathered griffon. I bounced painfully off the floor, the sudden shock ruining the clarity I had been holding on to. I could still faintly hear the harpy barking orders, but my ears were ringing too much to understand.

I felt the jailor’s talons dig into my back as he grabbed the iron band. He tried to haul me to my hooves, but my ringing ears killed my balance. I stumbled dumbly for a moment before the jailor, Clavicle I suppose, roughly lead me along. As we left the main rookery, the noise followed down the halls, slowly dying down as we moved further away and the old harpy regained control. By the time we returned to my cell all was silent except for the clop of my hooves and the clack of Clavicle’s talons. Nevertheless there was noise like a charging magical energy rifle still buzzing in my ear that refused to go away.

Clavicle dragged me into the cell, reattaching the chains to the iron band. I was almost thankful for the opportunity to nurse my various pains. I laid my head on the cold stone floor, eyes closed and taking slow breaths. It felt like my entire body was throbbing in pain. Much to my distress, I felt Clavicle grab hold of my mane and lift my head once again. I wanted to try and maintain some kind of stoicism, but couldn’t stop a groan of pain. It sounded pitiful, even to me.

Much to my surprise, Clavicle put the water bottle to my lips. I was shocked at first, but began drinking greedily. The water was revolting, but could have been liquid moonlight for my parched throat. He did not take the bottle away early this time, allowing me to drink my fill, or at least close to it. The bottle finished, I was still hungry and still battered, but felt much better. “Thank you.” I said earnestly.

His response was to hold the edge of his talon against my throat. “I should kill you right now.” He growled. “You’re a lying bitch, like the rest of the Enclave. You’ll just run back to them pissing yourself if we let you go…”

I swallowed hard, feeling my Adam’s apple rub against the talon. “You won’t kill me though.” I said, feeling a lot less confident than I sounded.

“And why not?”

I managed to crack a smile. “Because part of you believes me.”

He sliced the talon across my neck. I tensed, expecting the sickening sensation of my blood flowing freely. All I got was a minor pain, barely noticeable amidst all the other aches I was experiencing. Clavicle had cut my neck just enough to draw a line of blood, shallower even that the raider bite from... Goddesses had that just been two days ago? Or longer? I had no idea how long I had been a prisoner of the griffons, but it felt like months. Clavicle held up the talon, a single drop of my blood on the tip. “Whether I believe you or not doesn’t mean shit.” He said, grinning wickedly. How a griffon grinned with a beak was beyond me. “What matters, is that until the old bird says, otherwise, you’re mine. And that means it’s my pleasure to kill you if you become worthless.”

Letting go of my mane, he turned and stalked from the cell, slamming the door behind him. I sighed in relief, once again resting my head on the floor. Disgusting as it may have been, I finally had some water in me and could start to think clearly, the cool stone on my forehead also helped. Making allies with the griffons was incredibly risky. As a rule griffons did whatever was in the best interest of the individual and the flock, and that meant that dealing with the pony races on occasion. However, these griffons had been at war with the Enclave for over two hundred years. They had every reason in the world to hate and distrust pegasi, even if it went against their natural practicality. The only thing keeping me alive right now was the word of the harpy, and that may not last forever. I needed a way out of here, quickly.

My stomach growled loudly, interrupting any further thought. I may be hydrated, but I was still starving, and crashing off of the adrenaline was bringing my various aches back in spades. I felt myself drifting off. I could escape later. I could rest for now… Maybe until my ears stopped ringing…

Wind whipped through my mane, but not in the pleasant way flying did. This wind was cold, biting, and stung my eyes. I held a hoof in front of my eyes, blocking some of the gale. “Hello?” I called, my voice thin in the wind. “Is anypony there?” All I could see was white for miles. Squinting, I put the hoof down and went to take a step. My hoof plunged through the ground and I felt my heart seize as I tumbled after it. My head followed and I glimpsed the Wasteland far, far below me. Except it wasn’t the Wasteland, the world below was thriving and alive.

I managed to not slip off the small platform I was standing on. My heart thundered against my ribcage while I watched the world below. When I managed to calm down, I picked myself up, my rear hooves slipping perilously behind me. The fluffy white clouds on all sides refused to support any weight I put on them. I was standing on a small frozen platform barely large enough to hold me. “What’s going on?” I whispered. Why couldn’t I walk on clouds? All pegasi could walk on clouds! I tried to flap my wings, but felt nothing. A lump of ice formed in the pit of my stomach. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder.

Looking behind me, I was unsure what I was looking at for a second, then it hit me. The scream of terror built somewhere in my stomach, rising until it burst out my mouth and echoed across the empty sky. My wings were gone. Over the scars of my now empty wing sockets was black stitching reading “TRAITOR”. My sleet-and-snow Cutie Mark was gone, replaced with an ugly brand of Rainbow Dash’s Mark. I tried to run from my own scarring, tumbling off of the platform as I did. With no wings to flap and nothing to catch me I plummeted towards the thriving world below…

I jerked awake, but something was wrong, I couldn’t move! I struggled and strained, but I couldn’t even stand! I need to fly I… Oh Goddesses my wings! I can’t move them! It wasn’t a dream! Now my lungs are empty, I can’t breathe I’m…screaming?

A sharp pain flares in my right cheek and I’m jolted fully awake. My chest is heaving like a windstorm as I try to force air back into my lungs. “Maybe she’s just crazy.” I hear someone mutter.

I focus, griffons. Talon Mountain. The cell. The nightmare slowly fades as I recognize my jailors. Clavicle, the tawny feathered male, and the old harpy are standing in front of me. I locked on to the Matriarch and approached as much as my bindings would allow. “Please.” I said, unable to keep the note of desperation from my voice. “Please give me my wings back…”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The old harpy said, causing my chest to feel like it was caving in. “You see, I did a little looking into who you are, Sleet Gray.” She circled me while she talked. “And I learned specifically how you killed your family.” She ran her talon along the exposed part of my wing. I shivered at the touch, the band was restricting blood flow and the contact caused an unpleasant tingling sensation. “I think I’ll keep these locked up nice and tight for now.”

I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. It was clear that panic and pleading would get me nowhere. “How can we get anywhere without a little trust?” I asked, trying and failing to steady my voice.

The harpy stopped and locked eyes with me. ”’Trust’ was giving you water. ‘Trust’ was not letting Clavicle slit your throat. There has been plenty of ‘trust’ Sleet Gray, if you want more you will need to earn it.” It felt like she could see straight through me, through any deception or mask. “You’ll get your wings back when I say so.” She held the stare for several seconds before turning away. “Now follow me.”

I hadn’t noticed that while she was talking, the other two griffons had unhooked my chains. I stood up fully, my knees aching. However, on the lengthy list of aches and pains I currently had, the current top priority was my stomach. I didn’t want to do much else but fill my cramping gut, and could only hope that the griffon’s “trust” would get me some food sooner rather than later. Still, having no other choice, I followed the old harpy silently.

The trip was short and made in uncomfortable silence. I could feel the piercing eyes of the jailors on me like an itch in my mane. The itch was multiplied a thousand times in my wings, the desire to free them intensifying after the nightmare. The effect was making my mind spin again. I needed something to focus on. “How long have I been here?” I asked.

I saw Clavicle move in my peripheral vision, probably to violently reprimand me for speaking out of turn. He stopped when the Matriarch spoke. “We caught you three days ago.”

Three days since I left my friends behind. A part of me wondered what they were doing, if they were still together, or even still alive. Shaking my head clear of the thought, I continued talking. “Why capture me in the first place?”

”We noticed the Enclave going below the clouds, way more than just a scouting party. Naturally we wanted to know what was going on.”

I waited for her to continue, but she stayed silent. Suppressing an annoyed huff, I prompted. “So why capture me?”

The old harpy gave a screeching laugh. “One little pegasus, flying alone, below the clouds, at night? You were either really fucking stupid or on some really important mission. I decided it was the second one.”

Great, I had been imprisoned because they gave me the benefit of the doubt. There was hilarious irony in there somewhere, but I was too hungry to see it. Any attempts to think through my growling stomach were dashed when we rounded a corner and the smell of food assaulted my nostrils. It was just about the sweetest thing I had ever smelled, even though it had a strange undertone I couldn’t be bothered to identify. I sniffed deeply, feeling my belly rumble in anticipation. Come to think of it, before all this started I had never eaten the meal my Mother had brought in for me. What had it been again? Apples? Hay fries? Both? I had been too concerned with almost being shot to pay attention, and like everything else from my old home it was destroyed.

Even my thoughts of home couldn’t stick with the smell of food so close. The fact that the smell was growling stronger certainly didn’t help, but as the smell grew so did the other, less pleasant scent. It was strangely familiar, and as we grew closer I got the distinct feeling that I didn’t want to recognize it. Just before we rounded the corner into the griffon dining hall I put my hoof on it. I knew where I had smelled that smell before, Stalliongrad. It was the smell of blood.

I really should have expected nothing less from griffons. Nevertheless I felt my appetite wane dramatically at the sight of the bloodstained dinging hall. The chimera clearly did not believe in table manners, small pieces of I don’t know what were left on and around the great wooden table. The fact that the table was made of wood spoke to how old this settlement was, but my stomach was churning too much to care.

I took a deep breath to control my queasiness, but ended up gagging on the smell. This seemed to amuse the griffons. “What’s the matter, little pony?” Clavicle asked tauntingly. “You’ve been to the Wasteland, can’t handle a little meat and blood?”

Swallowing my disgust, I answered back sharply. “I grew up in a different standard of living.” My tone was unwise, but this black feathered bastard was really starting to piss me off. “Forgive me if I haven’t lost all civility to the Wasteland yet.”

Roughly shoving me around to face him, Clavicle grabbed my head in both his talons and glared into my eyes. “I don’t give two shits about your civility, pony.” He squeezed my head, making the pressure that sleeping had only partially removed grow. “Your civility won’t stop me from ripping your head off…”

“Clavicle!” The Matriarch cawed. “Let her go!” Disobeying for just a second longer, the jailor finally let go of my head. I stumbled backward as my head screamed. The charging-energy-weapon noise was back, and agonizingly loud.

The tawny feathered guard must have moved, since I continued stumbling until I hit wall. Sliding down the rough stone, I settled into a sitting position and wrapped my hooves over my head, eyes squeezed closed. I faintly heard clicking talons and the tawny guards voice say “Get up.”

“What the Hell do you people want with me?” I groaned, keeping my eyes shut.

“We want the Enclave gone.” He answered simply. “We want them to regret trying to drive us from our home, and we want to fly the skies without watching over our shoulders.” I cracked open one eye and looked up at him. His expression was uncompromising. “That’s what you want too, isn’t it?”

I held his gaze for a minute before very slowly standing up. I took a deep breath, opening my both my eyes and nodded. “Yes, it is.” I responded, forcing my voice to be steady.

“Then please, sit down.” He gestured to the large table. “And try not to piss off my brother.”

I found a reasonably clear spot and sitting on the stone floor, apparently the griffons didn’t believe in chairs either. The Matriarch sat down opposite me, the guards flanking her and pointing their battle saddles at me. “Clavicle tells me you are hungry.” She stated. “What would you like to eat?”

Against my stomach’s protests, I said. “I don’t think you have much I’d eat.”

“Actually we recently had a very successful raid against an Enclave supply shipment. I’m sure there is something there you’ll eat.”

I felt an irrational fear and anger grip my stomach. Taking into account how long I’d been here and when I had fallen into the Wasteland, I had a good idea what shipment she was talking about. “That was Coltarado Height’s surplus payment to the military! If they don’t meet the quota they’ll lose military support!”

The Matriarch raised an eyebrow. “And you care about this why? I thought we were going to destroy them.”

I bit my lip. “I want the military destroyed, but this hurts innocents…”

The old harpy laughed heartily, the screeching cackles grating against my ears. “Innocents! Who in the Enclave is innocent? You abandon the surface, live off of stolen mountains and hog the skies!” She stopped her laughter, but her eyes still shone with vicious delight. “None of you Enclave are ‘innocent’. You’re all thieves and traitors.” I bit my tongue against a sharp rebuttal, pinning the blame of just trying to survive on ponies two hundred years after the fact didn’t sit well with me. The Matriarch must have noticed my consternation. “Are you honestly considering defending them? The ones who drove you out and are trying to kill you?”

“I wasn’t nearly executed by civilians.” I said through gritted teeth, carefully omitting the part about Radiant Dawn selling me out. “It was my brother acting under orders!”

“And do you know what all those civilians think about you?” The harpy countered. “Do they stay awake at night, worried for your safety because you were wrongly accused? Do you think any of them care? You are dead to them,” At the word “dead” she slammed her fist on the table. “and they will string you up without thinking twice!”

The sound of a roaring crowd and the feeling of rough fibers scratching my neck sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes and tried to center myself, but to do so I needed food. “Do you have any apples?”

Opening my eyes I saw the harpy grinning at me in that strange griffon way. “Glad we can get down to business.”

A short while later I was digging into a small pile of apples. After the first bite my hunger had exploded, as if I had been repressing it and the taste of food broke all restraint. Nevertheless I managed to keep my scarfing as close to polite and controlled as I could, the griffons knew that starving me had an effect, I didn’t want them to see how much. After my third apple in as many minutes, the Matriarch spoke up. “You said you knew the Enclave’s plan for the surface. Care to fill us in?”

I glanced at the two bodyguards as I ate. “Are you sure you want them around?” I asked innocently.

“My sons are to be trusted.” She said confidently.

Not much in the way of family resemblance. I thought. Acquiescing with a nod, I prompted another answer. “You know, I got his name,” I gestured to Clavicle “but not yours.”

The stalling seemed to be grating on the griffons nerves. Even so, she answered “I am Ragewing,” She motioned to the tawny griffon. “and my son is Arterial.”

“Named after is big heart?” I asked after a tense moment of silence.

“We were named after the first wound we inflicted on each other.” Arterial said. “My brother broke my collar bone, I cut his neck.”

Ragewing snickered at my shocked look. “Luckily we had healing potions nearby, otherwise he’d be an only child.” I saw Clavicle’s jaw tighten, clearly a raw nerve. I decided to get back on track before the ebon feathered griffon was set off again.

“I do know the Enclave’s plan for the surface. I found it by mistake, they tried to hide the file amongst junk nopony would look at. Unfortunately for them, I did.” The silence was cue to go on. “They plan to slaughter the surface world. Most of the ground ponies will die in the holocaust.”

Ragewing leaned in closer with a hungry expression. “And why would they do that?”

I shook my head sadly. “I didn’t see much about why, only the what.” It was true, luck or perhaps misfortune was what made me open the file concerning the method of genocide first. “The propaganda they plan to spread says that they are going to ‘Reclaim the surface’ and ‘Destroy threats to our way of life’, but Celestia only knows how much of it is true.”

Ragewing mulled over what I said. She kept up that same predatory look, making me feel distinctly like prey. Now more than ever I wanted my wings back, straining them against the band only compounded the feeling of being trapped. How wholly this griffon controlled me was becoming frighteningly clear with each passing minute. “How much more do you know?” She asked.

“Not much.” I admitted, carefully choosing my words. “I didn’t get the chance to read the whole file before my brother showed up.” If I remained just useful enough to be kept alive, but not be exploitable, I may find a chance to convince them to free me. The fact that I was dealing with griffons made the possibility of pulling that off depressingly slim, but it was all I had.

“How about a timetable? When will the surface burn?”

“They are going to want to start as quickly as possible, but this is such a huge undertaking they don’t want something to go wrong either.” I shrugged. “Best guess? A few months, maybe more maybe less.”

“Then that gives us some time to prepare.” Ragewing said, standing up.

“Prepare?”

The aged griffon snickered wickedly. “If the Enclave throws everything they have down below, they leave their cities ripe for the picking! We will break their back while it is turned!”

My heart clenched in my chest. Was she being serious? “Wiping you out is no doubt part of the preparations!” I said hurriedly. “They wouldn’t underestimate you to the point of not expecting counter-attack!”

Ragewing glared down at me, her bloodshot eyes questioning why I dared doubt her plan. I braced myself for some kind of retaliation, but to my surprise Arterial spoke up. “She’s right, Mother.” He said, drawing the Matriarch’s attention. “Waiting to strike will only get us killed.”

“And striking now will get us killed!” Clavicle snapped, cutting off the Matriarch from speaking.

“Not if we are smart about it.” His brother retorted. “If we use what we have then we can do some damage without sitting around and waiting for the Enclave to come and blast us all to Hell.” It was clear that “what they had” was me, a situation I needed to remedy quickly; I couldn’t stop the Enclave as a griffon tool for revenge.

Before the argument could continue, Ragewing gave a keening cry for silence. “Quiet, both of you!” After waiting a second to make sure they had obeyed, she continued. “I have the feeling we can learn much from our little pegasus. Take Sleet Gray back to her cell. Make her comfortable, but keep the band on.” With that, she began stalking from the room.

Celestia damn her and all she stood for! My wings felt like they were being crushed and the terrible claustrophobia weighing on me had been slowly increasing. I had managed to shove it to the back of my mind as I tried to weasel my way into a position of potential escape, but the confirmation that I was to remain bound made the sensation skyrocket. Desperately, I tried called after her retreating form. “What do you expect from me? Finding Cauterize was a fluke! I can’t help you stop the Enclave from a CELL!”

Ragewing paused before striding over to me. Grabbing my face in her talons, she spoke very slowly. “I think you know more than you say. I know your type, unimpressive little shits no one pays attention to. You sit there like a fly on the wall and hear all sorts of interesting things.” She gave that creepy griffon-smile again and I felt my despair clutch my heart. “I think you will be very helpful.” Releasing me, she left the dining hall without further comment.

I didn’t bother trying to resist the griffon brothers when they lead me away. Despite being fed and partially rehydrated I was no match for them, even if I did have access to my talent. My head spun as we walked searching desperately for an angle I could use to free myself. No matter what excuse I fabricated, or logic I tried, I couldn’t find a scenario where I could convince Ragewing to let me go. My hooves felt heavy with the weight of my situation. I had left my friends and now I had failed the surface. The Enclave would come and destroy the ponies below, the griffons would foolishly attack and be destroyed, and I would be found and executed. We reached the cell and I entered wordlessly, standing in place to be chained to the floor. To my brief surprise, they turned to leave without doing so. Right, ‘comfortable’. I sat and watched them close the door, specifically Arterial. Clavicle stood back, glaring at me.

No… Not me… He was glaring at his brother… An idea sparked to life, desperately shining against the hopelessness. “Could I get some water?” I asked.

“I gave you water already.” Clavicle snapped irately.

“That was yesterday,” I said, sounding innocent rather than snippy. “I need more.”

I held my breath as the ebon feather griffon made to storm into the cell, praying my gambit would work. “Don’t get greedy, little pony…”

I suppressed a sigh of relief when Arterial stuck out his foreleg and blocked his brother. “It’s fine, I’ll get her some water.” Perfect. I thought, maintaining a mask of innocence and defeat.

Clavicle glared at his brother with such intensity I half expected Arterial to go up in flames, but eventually yielded. After telling me to wait (again, making it sound like I had a choice) Arterial and his brother left, locking the cell behind them. Several minutes later, the tawny griffon returned. I sat against the back wall, eyes closed and appreciating the relative freedom not being chained gave me. I opened one eye and was pleased to see that Clavicle was nowhere to be seen.

Arterial approached cautiously, keeping his guns trained on me. “I can’t hurt you.” I said, opening both eyes. “Even if I had my wings, I couldn’t stop you before you shot me.” The jailor didn’t speak, handing me a bottle of water. Pulling it open with my teeth, I took a long pull. Thankfully, this water was at least clean. Arterial turned to leave as I drank. Swallowing, I spoke up. “You won’t convince them.”

The griffon stopped, turning to me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your family.” I said, not standing up. “You won’t convince them that keeping me here is a bad idea.” He tried to keep a stoic expression, but I saw his eyes tighten. “That is what you were thinking, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“The Matriarch knows what is best for the flock.” He said without any heart, the doubt clear in his face.

I latched onto that doubt. “Are you so sure of that? Have all her decisions been for the best lately?” He didn’t speak, choosing only to glare at me. “If you won’t say it, I will.” Silence. “Fine, Ragewing is old. She’s been fighting the Enclave probably since she took over as head of the flock. It’s wearing on her, making her reckless and impulsive.” I leaned forward, looking into his eyes. “She can’t see why keeping me here will get all of you killed. If the Enclave finds out I’m here, they will spare no expense to kill you all and take me. Same if they think I died on the surface or if Cauterize grows near. With me here, there is no happy ending.”

“You want me to defy my own mother…” He said in a low, dangerous voice.

I held up my hooves in a placating gesture. “I’m not asking for a coup, what I’m asking is that you get me out of here.”

The griffon looked down at me searchingly for about a minute. I resisted the urge to say more, praying that I had said enough already. After what felt like a short forever, he turned and left without another word. I tried not to let his silence affect how I felt, having no idea if it was a good or bad sign. Instead I savored the bottle of pure water, and waited.

Waiting gave me ample time to consider things I’d really rather not think about, but having no other form of stimulation, I was forced to look back on the past few days. Naturally, and traitorously, my thoughts wandered to Scout and Clarity. No matter how many times I rationalized my decision to leave them, I couldn’t deny that I still felt awful about it. What else was I going to do though? Drag them around the Wasteland, just waiting for the Enclave to kill us all? I couldn’t afford that. If I was going to stop the Enclave I couldn’t worry for the ponies I cared about.

But had leaving really been the best option? After all, Swift Winds and the other soldiers in her group had seen Scout. He was just as wanted as I was, and even with his PipBuck he wouldn’t be able to evade capture forever. If I had stuck with them, maybe I could have helped…

I hit myself on the head with the bottle. No. I can’t think like that. Scout is clever, his damned Cutie Mark is in survival! He can fend for himself, and if Clarity is with him, then he has her magic on his side. They would be just fine without me, and as soon as I got out of this damned cell I’d be fine as well. I went to take another drink from the bottle, but it was empty, and ironically I felt thirstier than ever.

I don’t know how much longer I waited. I resisted the urge to fall asleep, not wanting another nightmare to set me screaming and put the whole rookery on red alert. Studiously ignoring the almost painful desire to move my wings helped with keeping awake, but it was becoming harder and harder. My shoulders rolled and twitched on their own accord, trying to flex my wings. At some point I had fallen into the rhythm of flight, despite the fact that my wings didn’t actually move. The enchantment in the band apparently didn’t like that, and tightened considerably. I gasped in pain, willing my muscles to still before the band snapped something. This was maddening, I needed to get out of here, I needed to move, I…

There came the sound of talons clicking on stone. I held my breath, all other sensations temporarily forgotten. Arterial appeared in the little slat on the door and after a few seconds opened the cell. Fighting the impulse to rush out the door, I stood still near the back of the cell. The tawny griffon carried two full saddlebags in place of his battle saddle and wore a decidedly uncomfortable expression as he approached. Stopping in front of me, he wordlessly reached behind me and with a few deft motions undid the latch securing the band.

Goddesses preserve me, this must have been what Clarity felt like. My wings immediately flared out and a sensation of relief that was soul deep washed over me. If I was a crystal pony, I’d have shone as bright as the sun. “Thank you.” I said breathlessly, marveling at my wings like a newborn foal.

“Don’t get too excited.” He reprimanded, reaching into one of the saddlebags and producing my coat. “We still have to get you out of here.”

I happily took the garment. A part of me that hadn’t been consumed by my desire to fly had felt terrible about losing the coat so soon after Threads had modified it. Slipping my coat on, I immediately spread my wings through the slits cut in the back. Arterial’s eyes widened at the sight, clearly not having found the mods, a testament to Threads’ work. “Did you get the rest of my things?” I asked, buttoning the coat.

“You’ll get them back when we have you outside Talon.” He had resumed his stoic glare.

Understandable, just because he trusted me enough to raise havoc for the Enclave didn’t mean he trusted me enough not to shoot him in the back. I nodded. “Alright, lead the way.”

After first checking that the hallway was clear, Arterial set off at a brisk pace while I followed behind. Having my wings back, I decided to hover rather than walk so as to keep my hooves from making noise. The cave system was eerily quiet, with no other griffons to be found. I faintly recognized the route to the main rookery, despite my delirious state the last time I made the trip. We passed through the large cavern, which felt even more spacious when empty.

Or seemingly empty. A thunderous crack barely drowned out Arterial’s screech of pain, blood starting to flow at the point where his feathers became fur. I dodged the bullet aimed for me more out of luck than skill. I had frozen in shock at the first gunshot, dropping from my hover as the second shot passed over me. The shooter cawed furiously, firing at me again. Stupidly, I stood there shocked, only moving once the bullet bit into my left foreleg. Fiery pain lanced from my quadriceps, finally jumpstarting my brain enough for my survival instinct to scream at me to move!

I took wing, trying to gain height on our attacker. Three days bound in iron had done my wings no favors, anything more than the hover I had been maintaining stretched my cramped muscles painfully. Still, staying on the ground would get me killed, and looking down I could see our attacker. It was Clavicle, tracking me with his battle saddle as I flew overhead.

Before I could say anything, not that I’d have much hope of talking him down anyway, Clavicle fired again. I felt the bullet rip through my tail as I dived wildly. My leg was roaring dully from the gunshot wound, blood soaking into my coat sleeve. Insanely, I could only think how annoying it was to get the coat back only to have it be shot up. I was jolted from my inane thoughts when the ebon griffon fired on me. I jerked to the side, praying to the Goddesses that I’d dodge the bullet.

Apparently only one of them was listening. A white hot line blazed across the left side of my face, just under the eye as the bullet grazed me. I screamed in shock and pain throwing a wing over my eye without thinking. Falling from flight, I landed agonizingly on my shot leg, groaning through clenched teeth as it collapsed beneath me.

The click of talons on stone accompanied Clavicle’s voice as he approached. “Bad little pony, messing with my brother’s head and leaving your cage! I don’t care how useful the old bird says you are, you need to be punished…”

Do something, damnit! I mentally roared at myself. Opening the eye that barely avoided being shot out, I saw blood staining my ice blue feathers. I had my wings again. I had what made me a pegasus, and by thunder I was not letting this cock-sure bastard take it away again! I felt my power well up like an icy ball in my stomach, mist cloying around my feathers.

I screamed and flared my wing at Clavicle. All the torment of my confinement from the past few days was put into that scream and the rush of arctic air that followed. Clavicle let out a shocked caw, stumbling back from the frozen attack. This still wasn’t even close to the moment of panic I had at Coltarado Heights, but it was more than enough to ice over Clavicle’s feathers and coat to the point where we looked pure white.

A wave of black passed over my vision and I could maintain the gale no longer. I slumped on my uninjured leg, fighting for consciousness. Miraculously, Clavicle was still moving, albeit stiffly. To my surprise, however, he didn’t attack, choosing instead to make his jerky retreat. I wanted to kill the fucker, but I was still shaking off the fatigue of my spell. At first I didn’t understand why he was running, but as my ears stopped sounding like a tornado was blowing between them, I could hear small arms fire to my side. Following the sound showed Arterial, having somehow produced a pistol, firing wildly at his brother while he limped over to me. “Can you walk?” He asked, glancing at my shot leg.

“No.” I gasped, not even bothering to test it. “But I can fly.”

“Good, c’mon.” Arterial set off once again in the direction we had been going. I followed, through despite what I had said, what I was doing wasn’t technically flying. It was more like falling forward with my three good legs and taking a running wing assisted leap before I hit the ground and then repeating. Nice and easy, all momentum, no strain, just fall and jump. The sounds of the griffons waking up in all the commotion came from all sides, slamming doors and screeching calls echoed down the stone halls after us. I had no energy to dedicate to worrying about that, just fall jump repeat, fall jump repeat, fall jump…

I ran into Arterial during a fall, the impact knocking me onto my flank. “We’re here.” The tawny griffon said, not commenting on my clumsiness. A large, bolted steel door stood before us with no obvious means of opening it. Set just above and below where a door knob would be was a set of holes drilled into the steel. Arterial set his talons into the holes, twisting them on previously invisible seems, and pushed with a grunt of effort. The door unsealed slowly, gale winds ripping through the small opening and shocking me into full alertness. The wind was wild just beyond the threshold, the cloud curtain boiling just below the cliff the door lead onto. With one final groan, Arterial had the door open about half way and braced himself. “Take my saddle bags and go! Your things are inside!” His voice was barely audible over the wind.

I took the bags as instructed, noticing the wound in his side, which flowed freely. “Will you be okay?” I yelled back. I was asking about more than just the wound, he had just openly defied his superior and attacked his brother because he felt it was the best course of action for the survival of the griffons. Even though he had been my jailor, I didn’t want him to suffer for trying to help his people.

“I’ll be fine! Just go! I can’t hold it forever!” A slipped past him and headed out the door. “Sleet Gray!” He called once I was outside. The wind whipped Arterial’s feathers wildly as he braced the door open, his eyes burning with unshakable determination. “If you fail, or have tricked me, I will find you.”

I met his gaze evenly, despite my weary body and mind. “Stay alive long enough to watch the Enclave burn.” I told him. He nodded, pulling the door closed. From the outside, it looked like just another piece of rock on the mountain face. Once it was fully closed, I could hardly find it again.

Turning away from the door, I gazed out over the cloudscape surrounding me. I was just above the curtain, and up on the mountain the wind was wild and terrible. Squinting against the wind felt disturbingly familiar to my last nightmare, so I looked up at the sky above me. Night was just starting to fade, the first vestiges of dawn appearing over the far horizon. The inky blackness of night was giving away radiant reds and oranges as Celestia’s sun replaced Luna’s moon.

It was a beautiful sight, the kind I had enjoyed on the occasions when I woke up early enough. The kind of thing lost to me in the Wasteland. From this angle I could not see Coltarado Heights, the door I had exited from was on the other side of Talon, away from the ongoing battle. Looking back at the mountain, I could imagine the outlines of my former home on the other side on the unyielding rock, a gap in the city skyline where my neighborhood used to sit. Thinking about home made my gut churn, not with fear but with sadness. Despite all that had been terrible about my quiet, civilized life I missed it. It had nothing to do with my family, or what weak excuses I had had for friends, or even the security of having a military to watch over me. What I had there was peace, things like a sure next meal and a soft place to lay my head each night. These were comforts and securities that almost nopony had in the Wasteland.

“And something they will never have a chance to find if the Enclave comes.” I said, the wind whipping my words away. Without further meditation, I pulled the saddlebags off of my bag and set to work binding my wound.

Like most of my practical knowledge, first aid was something I had picked up from my father and brothers, but had never bothered to actually master. Removing the strap from the bags and tying it over my gunshot wound was probably doing more harm than good, but without a healing potion it was all I had. Fortunately, the bullet had gone cleanly through, so I could save myself the excruciating agony of removing the round myself.

Pulling the strap tight with my teeth, I bit down on a scream as the wound protested being bound. Nevertheless, when I stood up I was able to walk on the leg without collapsing. After first getting my bearings with the rising sun and storing Black Powder, the Recollector, and the memory orb in my coat’s many pockets, I jumped onto the clouds and began trotting roughly south. I didn’t dive back down into the Wasteland, since having escaped Talon Mountain meant that St. Ponysburg was once again in my path and I wanted to avoid the settlement. Being set so far back was infuriating, but the ordeal had given me at least one potential ally in Arterial when the time to fight the Enclave came.

Of course, he had to survive that long first. I glanced back at the mountain top, which rose surprisingly high in the sky even well after it broke the cloud curtain. Hopefully he could find allies amongst his flock to join him, otherwise he was doomed well before the Enclave busted down the door. I shook my head, there was no time to worry. I was taking a serious risk staying above the cloud cover and needed to keep a sharp eye out. Still, it was better than limping through the Wasteland, at least until I found a building down below I could scavenge, hopefully for some healing supplies.

If it wasn’t for the rising sun and the receding peak of Talon marking the passage of time, I’d have thought I was making no progress. The featureless cloud plain was rivaled in its sameness only by the clear blue sky above. Eventually, Talon was no longer visible, the tiny dot of the peak disappearing behind the clouds. The sun was well past the noonday point when the throbbing of my wounded leg told me it was a good idea stop and check my progress.

Selecting a spot, I reared up before bringing my back hooves down hard on the clouds. With a sound not unlike a pillow being fluffed, the clouds dispersed. Poking my head through the hole, I marveled at the Wasteland below me. The surface world was indeed vast. The tundra was a patchwork of grays and browns dotted here and there with landmarks and buildings. One cluster of buildings in particular stood out to me, it looked to be cut in half by a large hole. St. Ponysburg was well to the North of my path, excellent. I wanted desperately to return to the town, have Sister fix my leg and see if I could find Scout and Clarity. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I would only put them all in danger by being there.

Nevertheless I spent a good minute looking longingly at the town. I felt a soft brush against my neck, reminding me that the cloud curtain would be closing the hole I made soon. With a sigh I looked away, scanning the area for someplace I could scavenge for supplies. Tracing a ruined highway, I spotted what looked like a factory down below. I didn’t expect much in the way of food or healing potions, but it was better than nothing.

Standing, I made to dive off the clouds, but when I took one last look at the fluffy gray plain surrounding me, I got an idea. Gathering up a small ball of cloud, I condensed it to about the size of a memory orb and made a thin layer of frost. Pegasi could do a number of extremely useful things with clouds, carrying around a ball of the stuff would come in handy. Tucking the little ball away, I dove towards the factory far below.

My hooves flew furiously over the keyboard, trying to break the code locking the terminal. “C’mon you piece of shit…” I growled as I was forced to back out for the fifth time. Glancing at a monitor next to the terminal I was working on I saw security footage of a scrum of filthy ponies trying to beat down a door, the very same I had frozen shut. The jeers and taunts of the raiders were not helping my concentration.

The damned factory had been COMPLETELY infested with the psychopaths. Walking through the front door to reception had greeted we with grisly raider décor, the main desk had a splayed open unicorn corpse chained to it in a backbreaking manner. That was all I had time to see before the raider mare patrolling the room spotted me and opened fire. A bullet grazed my wing before I managed to get into cover, fumbling Black Powder out while I hid behind a vending machine.

The raider charged stupidly towards me, cackling like a demon as she rounded on me. A blast from my pistol turned her to ash. I gagged on the smell of burnt hair and flesh, holding a wing over my nose and mouth to avoid breathing her remains in. Before I could get a handle on the situation, I heard more raiders galloping towards me.

I took off, wobbling slightly as the graze along my right wing burned. Landing on the balcony overlooking the reception room, I laid in wait for the approaching raiders. Little did I realize, there were a few on this floor too. I noticed the sound of pounding hooves behind me mere seconds before the attacker cracked me on the head with a baseball bat.

Stumbling to the side, my vision swirling erratically, I collapsed on my side with Black Powder falling from my grip. On instinct I threw up a hoof to defend myself, barely stopping the raider from caving my head in. He screamed something around the grip on the bat in his teeth, the words terribly slurred, though I was fairly certain I heard the words “feathery cunt” somewhere in there. He continued to swing erratically, battering my leg without hitting anything vital. This distracted him long enough for me to become lucid, plant my hooves in his gut, and throw him off of me. He stumbled into the railing of the balcony, the rotted wood breaking under his weight and sending him plummeting.

I had no time to check if he was dead or not, I needed to get moving. Doing so with one battered and one shot foreleg was difficult, and with my head still ringing it was damn near impossible, but if I could survive my incarceration, damnit I could survive this! Grabbing Black Powder and stumbling too my hooves, I set off in the direction that had the least amount of raider yells coming from it.

Fortunately, I found the building’s security station quickly enough, and even better the door was open. I practically fell inside, just as I heard a raider scream “Skin the bitch!”

“Thunder and lightning.” I growled, slamming the door shut. Flapping my wings, I froze the lock and hinges shut, which is how I found myself in this situation. Finally I found the correct password and entered it, praying that there would be something on here to help me. “Sweet Celestia and Luna, yes!” I cried as I selected the first command, Activate automated security, and mashed confirm.

After a tense thirty seconds, there came a cacophony of gunshots and magical energy blasts from outside the door. I slumped to the floor, exhausted, and indulged in my body’s many cries of pain. After what felt like a small forever, the sounds of combat stopped and all fell quiet beyond the door. Ignoring the protests of my limbs, I got to my hooves, retrieved Black Powder and melted the ice holding the door shut.

Cautiously, I poked my head outside and nearly gagged on the smell of gore. The raiders had been devastated by the automated defenses, their bloody corpses littered the hall. I went to take a cautious step out when an automated voice spoke. “Please present your security badge for identification.” I felt my heart skip a beat, looking to the voice I saw a Protect-a-pony making its shambling way toward me. Shit.

Quickly retreating into the security room, I went to scramble to the terminal and shut down the robots. Rapidly scrolling through the options, I screamed in frustration when I found no shut down command. “What cloud headed IDIOT doesn’t include a command to shut down their robots!?” I asked the terminal angrily. I found an entry referring to an emergency security shut down, but reading it made me scream.
>Attention all security personnel
>After the recent incident, I feel it is in the best interests of all the employees that the emergency security shut down is located in my office from this point forward. The up and ups back at HQ ensure me that our systems will not be compromised again, but it is my philosophy to be better safe than sorry.
>Sincerely,
>Director Girder

“Of course!” I raved “Because everypony here is Stalliongrad was so damn paranoid they couldn’t even trust their own chief of security!” As the sound of the Protect-a-pony’s metal hooves grew closer I scrambled for something to stop it. I was too weak to freeze it and my shitty aim wouldn’t kill it fast enough before I was finished off.

Stumbling over a skeleton I hadn’t noticed before, I found what I needed, a security tag, which I plucked from the rotted uniform. I slipped my wings away, the skeleton had belonged to an earth pony after all, and whirled around just in time for the Protect-a-pony to enter the room. I held up the tag in my mouth and prayed.

After an extended stretch of seconds, the lights that served as the robot’s eyes flashed green. “Confirmed, Security Chief Key Ring. Have a nice day.” With that it turned to leave.

I dropped the tag with a sigh. “Thanks, Key Ring.” I said to the skeleton. After pinning the tag to the front of my coat, I painfully walked off in search of some supplies.

One ice busted lock and a pillaged medical box later, I had downed a healing potion, feeling the magic going to work on my many wounds. My shot leg itched terribly as the flesh knit itself back together, and a number of bruises from my incarceration that I had forgotten about were fading. I contemplated going to the director’s office to shut down the security, but Key Ring’s badge had worked so I felt safe amongst the automated defenses.

My exploration proved somewhat fruitful. I found the raiders’ supplies and while most of it was soiled beyond redemption, there was enough clean water and sealed containers of food to keep alive for a while. While poking around I learned more about the factory, like that it was an old Stable-Tec facility in charge of manufacturing parts for Stables, but had also been closely involved in the construction of several Stables in the Stalliongrad region. Amongst a pile of forgotten papers in a break room I found a map of the region with a number of Stables marked on it. One in particular caught my attention, up near the top of the map circled in red was Stable 130. A number of scribbled notes surrounded it, including “damned cowards”.

None of the other Stables were marked as such, and shifting through the pile of papers proved fruitless. “What’s up with your Stable, Scout?” I asked my absent friend. Were there complications with recreating a pristine Equestria, and who were the “damned cowards”? Before I got the chance to search for answers, the sound of gunfire erupted at a different end of the factory. Snapping to attention I rushed into the hall as a security bot rolled past. “What’s going on?” I asked, but the robot either didn’t hear me or wasn’t programmed to respond.

Growling in frustration, I rushed back to the security station. The longer the sounds of fighting persisted the more worried I became. If the intruders could hold out against the automated defenses, then they were a much more serious threat than raiders. Once I entered the security station, I went to the monitor showing footage from the cameras. Cycling through the cameras rapidly, I almost skipped over the one I wanted. The lobby was being torn apart by the fire of several robots, filing the desk with lead. A levitated sidearm poked out and fired blindly at the robots, drawing their attention. With the fire diverted, a figure popped up and with three precise shots from his battle saddle destroyed a Protect-a-pony before ducking back down.

Even in the grainy footage I recognized the stallion, an irrational happiness hitting me closely follow by dread as reality hit me like a block of ice. That was Scout, pinned down by the security system I had awoken! And if the levitating pistol was any indicator, Clarity was with him too. By sheer coincidence my friends had found the same building I had, walked right into a deadly automated crossfire, and I was nowhere near the button to turn it off!
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Footnote: Level up!
New perk, Intense Training: Your time in the Wasteland has toughened you, adding a permanent + 1 to your Endurance.

Author's Notes:

Ugh, the semester may be coming to a close, but my workload certainly doesn't show it! Sorry for the delay, but once finals are over I'll have so much more time to write and will be able to get updates out on time. As always, big thanks go to Kkat for creating Fallout: Equestria and all the great things that come along with it. Additional thanks to my friends Mobius and Rowsdowa for proofreading and providing helpful insights when I was stonewalled by writer's block.