I looked out the rotten window into the cold clouded sky.

Another red dawn.

I pulled my tired self out of my bed. It was cold...really cold. It always is.

Not chilly, not nippy. It was cold.

The kind of cold that stung...that hurt.

I trotted my half-asleep limbs to the window.

Before the window of my small room the polluted snow came sprinkling down, covering the city streets in an ice sheet colored by brown coal.

Fable moaned and patted my place on our shared bed, noticing my absence before whimpering in the cold.

I sighed and returned to her, embracing the filly in my hooves and holding her as I leaned against the wall, stroking her mane.

"Nimbus...?" she sniffed quietly, her muzzle in my shoulder as she began crying.

I closed my eyes and hushed her "It's okay...It's okay...we still have an hour or two before we have to get up...go back to sleep..."

Fable shivered and curled up in my embrace. "How old would she have been today?" she asked.

I did what little math I knew in my head. "43" I said quietly.

"Happy...Birthday...Mother" Fable murmured.

I sighed, my stomach churning like someone was wringing it with their hooves. "Make a wish for her" I replied in a whisper.

Fable nodded, still weeping into my shoulder as she remembered...longed for the life we used to have.

I never wanted any of this...I just wanted to go to sleep, wake up and find all of this to be over.

Fable cried like so many other nights. I held her weak framed self and stroked her mane quietly.

In an hour I'd have to get up and go to work at Blacksmith...just like every other day in this accursed hell-hole of an orphanage.

"Nim' c...can you play the music box for me please?" she whispered sadly.

I smiled at her and reached over to the chipped wooden music box, flicking it open and winding the key. After I closed it again, the tiny cylinder began to spin and soft, calming music played quietly on the bedside cabinet.

I looked at the box, it was Fable’s last gift before our parents were arrested and taken away forever.

I looked down at my young sister as she held onto me in her restless sleep...she never deserved any of this, she was so young and innocent, I had to act as her father, but I hadn’t even gotten my cutie mark when our parents were taken away.

The box continued to play softly. I really didn’t like that music...It reminded me too much of what I used to have, and what I wanted back so desperately.

Fable whimpered as she finally fell asleep, I nuzzled her mane and whispered into her ear:

“It’ll get better for us one day, Fable...I’m finally old enough to adopt you...I’ll talk to Head Mistress Asphalt about it today, then we can finally leave this accursed place.” I closed my eyes and felt myself getting sleepy, too. “We’ll move to the NCR, and I’ll build a nice life for us both...” I rested my head against the cold wall and sighed.

“I promise, one day, it’ll get better for us.”

"Come on colts, it's work time, get going get going!" I heard one of the prefects yell as he walked past.

I slipped my trench-coat on to protect me from the cold outside.

I turned to Fable who hadn't dared to step out from under the blankets of our bed.

I kissed her forehead and smiled at her "As soon as I get back from my work period I'll talk to Asphalt and get some adoption papers for you, okay?"

Fable smiled at me and shivered "O...okay" she mumbled.

I picked her coat up in my teeth and brought it to her, wrapping her up in it and put her beneath the blankets again "Stay warm. Those assholes still haven't provided fireplaces in our rooms and I won't let you become part of the reason to get them to do it."

Fable buried her head in the bed and through the sheets her muffled voice spoke "I'll be fine, go before you get the cane for being late."

I nodded and stepped out into the rotten wood hallway.

Some of the bucks walked past. I had recently shot up in height and now towered over the other orphans. I was even a head taller than some of the prefects and masters.

I got a lot of foul looks from some of the orphans...I didn't get along with many of them.

I got picked on a lot when I was younger, but I assume my height and what little facial hair I had managed to grow made me look older and more intimidating.

I tightened the rags I had around each of my legs, which hid my greatest shame, before I got moving.

Some of the...luckier bucks got jobs such as bookkeeping and filing, others got stuck with harder, more demanding ones such as working at the steel foundry or at the wood mill.

I was lucky, I worked at Whisky’s Blacksmith. Little more than ten of the dozens and dozens of orphans that lived at the orphanage worked there.

It was easy enough I suppose. I got along with the owner, an elderly stallion named Whisky Shot, who often let me off work to come eat lunch with him and tidy up his office, instead of working on the floors.

I stepped outside onto the frozen street, the foul brown snow drifting over me.

The brown and grey skies above spewed the pollution they gathered from the ever-burning furnaces and engines right back down on us in the form of this...horrible horrible snow.

New Stalliongrad itself could have easily been called a marvel of progress even before the skies were opened and the world cured of its poisons.

Stalliongrad and its regions were nowhere near the wastelands around Canterlot, we were on the northern coastline, to get to here from Canterlot you’d have to travel through an enormous expanse of frozen mountains and snow blanketed valleys.

Up here, the concept of Canterlot, Fillydelphia and Manehatten had died a long time ago.

The memories that the south even existed had long since blown away with the ashes of this city.

There weren't many Stables this far north, only a single one provided protection for the city, they didn’t expect it to be targeted.

After a year or two of militias clashing and clans vying for control, the ruins were rocked by a single mare and her armies of War-era tech.

Her name was Cinnamon Swirl.

Today, Cinnamon Swirl is labeled an idiot, a foalish moron who threw our soldiers away during the Winter War. I still think she was a much better leader than Sky Spring could ever hope to be...

Not much was known about Cinnamon Swirl, other than that she was undefeated at chess, and that she grew up somewhere dark and sinister, evidently this somewhere was deeply communist.

With the protection she offered the ponies of the ruins, the city quickly came over to her side.

Her strategies were truly spectacular, she was a marvel at anything to do with fighting. They say it was fascinating how enthralled she was by war.

She saw an almost artistic beauty in outwitting her opposing commander, studying how they fought and quickly learning the best way to match their forces and destroy them.

The mood she was put in when she won a particularly difficult battle was euphoric, like she was high on some kind of drug.

The way she commanded, it’s easy to see how she crushed the other clans inside of a month.

The city and its ponies flourished, the resources of the region were quickly made use of and New Stalliongrad City was born, which a year later became federated and changed its name to The Loyalist State of Stalliongrad.

Cinnamon and her armies ruled the region without question, she became notorious for the way she dealt with raiders and bandits, turning our small corner of Equestria safe again for the average pony.

That was until a certain unicorn mare down south activated Gardens of Equestria, cleaned the lands and rolled back the clouds.

Cinnamon sent scouts south past the mountains to find out what had happened...

Of course, what they found awakened her deepest interest.

...what? I like to read history books...

"OJ, let's ditch this joint and go check out the mares at the bathhouse."

I froze up.

Orange Juice. Just keep walking like normal, maybe he won’t see you...

He was short but he made up for it with a muscle bound physique and an aggression to  match, he ran a gang with a few of the other bucks.

Even the prefects didn't mess with him.

He almost always had a knife of some kind. A lot of the colts at the orphanage carried them, except for me. I hate blood, violence...

I'm a pacifist, I'd sooner put a knife to myself than to another pony.

No matter who they were and how much I hated them...

OJ always roamed with his gang by his side for protection.

Everypony pretty much let them have free reign, they had a tendency to make you regret it if you didn't. OJ's first hoof and best friend Chuckles was only a few notches below criminally insane.

I heard bucks say he's cut open ponies and shown them their organs before they died.

Along with Chuckles there was Shakes...well that was her nickname, her actual name was Salt Water.

The reason she was named Shakes was because of her addictions, she was always high on something, Mintals, Dash, Tweak or FPS, but her favorite was Lightbringer.

Finally OJ himself. He was a real hooffull, supposedly he has killed and maimed, but I doubted that he had it in him. Most of the stuff you heard about him he probably made up as a way to instil dominance over the other orphans.

I felt OJ brush past me as he walked by before he stopped and turned around, grinning his chipped and dirty teeth at me.

"Well, if it isn't my friend Nimbus" he chuckled "Congratulations by the way."

I looked at him with a death stare "For what?"

He wanted me to ask. "Rumors going around that Ass-fault got approached by one of the bathhouses again. They’re really fond of that sister of yours" he grinned.

I felt my stomach drop. I looked away and continued walking. There was no way that was true...Fable was too young, barely even cutie mark age.

Asphalt wouldn't be that cruel...would she?

"You hear that, everypony, Nimmy's little sister is going to be adopted by one of the bathhouses!" he yelled "I've seen those lips of hers, I know one thing she’ll be a pro at.”

I stopped dead. Come on Nimbus, you're better than this, don't screw up your chances of a release paper by starting a fight, you’re not a fighter, remember?

"Oohhh, I've struck a chord with Nimmy, haven't I?" he laughed, his voice breaking. "Perhaps I should sneak back while you're at work, get a sample and see what I think of her before she's working every stallion this side of Capital Tower."

Oh no...

Just rough him up a little, no need for a fight, just tell him to shut it and show him you mean business.

“Did I stutter or something?!” he yelled, trying in vain to get a response out of me.

I ignored him, heading off to work, trotting at a worried pace as I trembled.

You’re weak, you should have just hit him, that would have shut him up, this is your sister he’s making these comments about, you really going to let him do that?

“I’m not...violent” I repeated, trying to breathe slowly and calm myself down as I stalked the road heading to work.

I shook my head. I could feel it, the throbbing headache, my troubled mind pounding against the inside of my head, demanding to be let out.

I wanted to scream, pound, destroy.

Kill.

“No!” I shouted to myself on the now empty snow-riddled street. “I’m not violent! That is not who I am!”

I paused, leaning against the wall of a nearby building, breathing slowly. I had to calm down, I couldn’t risk slipping into one of my episodes in public, I’d probably end up getting arrested.

I’m not too comfortable explaining...my issue to you yet, maybe later.

I don’t remember how long I just sat there breathing quietly to myself, trying my best to compose my troubled mind.

I rested there until I was sure to be in control again, and interestingly enough, just as I was about to get up and start walking again, a sound echoed from the alley across the street.

It wasn’t anypony in particular, just an average stallion, who came trotting out of the shadowed passage.

The stallion wore a short coat, a small mossy green beanie on his head and a series of bandoleers and pouches hung around on his sides.

An old, slightly rusted assault rifle swung on his back as he trotted closer, his eyes sizing me up, his nose crinkling.

“Excuse me, young stallion” he asked in equelquent sounding speech. “May I ask a small favor?”

I raised my brows in curiosity “That depends...”

He smirked “Nothing in particular, just...if anypony asks about me...tell them you didn’t see anything.”

I looked up and nodded. Another wanderer of the New Equestria in trouble with a gang for debts. Same stuff, different hat.

“Thank you, your help is appreciated.”

I waved him off. “Whatever, go now” I replied, beginning my walk away from him, sniffing my cold nose.

Just like that, he was gone, drifting into the nearby alleyway with nary a whisper, he had disappeared.

I would have continued my walk had it not been for a rough voice and booming hoofclops coming up behind me.

“HALT FOAL” a voice commanded.

I froze and turned around, nearly swallowing my own tongue when I saw the enormous figure of Cobalt, second-in-command of New Stalliongrad, standing behind me.

The dark grey stallion wore a set of black and gold trimmed armour that was the hallmark of highly decorated officers of the New Stalliongrad military.

All across his breast were dozens and dozens of medals and ribbons.

Some argue that he only received them because his mother was the country’s leader, but I have never heard of anyone saying that to his face.

Whether cheating or not, Cobalt was not a soldier, he was a warrior, a brutal killing machine who found his calling in the destruction of his adversaries from the various conflicts our humble armies fought throughout the twenty years of our country’s existence.

Conflicts ranging between minor raider cleansing expeditions to full-out wars with other factions around this area.

He’d been fighting in every major engagement there’s been, he even participated in the Winter War.

That was expected, really. His mother had been a Commodore in the Enclave, set to become Admiral of the whole fleet after the previous one's retirement.

In fact, rumour has it, the armour Cobalt wears for actual combat is built from pieces of armour that the leaders of his fallen advisories wore, including the helmet of a

raider warlord who ran this region before New Stalliongrad’s founding, as well as the shoulder plate of an infamous Steel Ranger Elder.

I froze and stood up straight, just as we were taught to do in the presence of a board member.

He was flanked by dozens of heavily armed soldiers who were searching each alley and door knocking homes.

The enormous muscular stallion was probably the only pony I’d met who was taller than me.

He oozed strength and intimidation. I could almost feel myself shrink as his towering figure looked down at me.

He had to take a knee to level his eyes with mine, smiling a set of perfect white teeth at me. His hoof stroke my chin in an almost fatherly fashion. “Sorry to barge in on you, dear colt, but I must ask, have you seen anyone suspicious recently, we’re in pursuit of a stallion...I can not tell you much more than that, but I assure you it’s a matter of national security.”

Stories surround nearly anypony who has any kind of voice in this city, it only depends if you are willing to believe them.

For example 2nd Commander Cobalt, all kinds of stories haunt his persona, stories that portray him as more of an animal than a civilised pony.

Stories of brutality to soldiers of the opposing side as well as to civilians who cross him, torture and agonised suffering to any who wrong him, as well as the rumors that he’s abused some of his own regiment’s more hard headed soldiers in an...’interesting’ fashion as a way to assert dominance, he also kills the families of the ones who fail him.

He apparently reveled in it, he loved the fear and intimidation that orbited him wherever he went, almost like a stench that could only be associated with the kind of acts he executed.

I trembled as I looked into his orange eyes, remembering that stallion I talked to earlier.

Oh goddess...that stallion was a rebel from the Stalliongrad Revolutionary Guard.

Why...why did this happen to me?

Stories like this pop up all the time, normal ponies stumble into an SRG partisan, then get questioned about it by the Guards or the Army.

If you tell on the SRG partisan, the SRG tend to respond violently for causing them to lose a good soldier.

If you don't tell on them, the New Stalliongrad Guard...they always find out somehow, they pick you up for being a 'terrorist' sympathizer and ship you off to Artechoka Prospect to be killed off.

I looked into his eyes and trembled on the verge of bursting into tears, I was so afraid.

But why should I care about the SRG? That buck and I, we don't share any common ground, he and I are not on the same side.

Why should I care about him? Survival of me and Fable is all I care about.

"...Yes!" I blurted "A stallion ran past me before he went into that alley way..." I closed my eyes "That's all I know, I swear!"

Cobalt chuckled and patted my shoulder "Good colt, you have provided the state with an invaluable help, continue on your way. We have to lock this area down before..."

Before he could finish, a bright flash ripped out and an explosion rocked the earth as a nearby brick building went up in flames.

Cobalt roared angrily "Goddess damn it all! Find that terrorist cretin and bring him to me so I can rip his head from his shoulders!" he yelled, shoving me so hard I flew back before collapsing onto the road.

The idle soldiers scuttled off in search of the stallion without question.

Cobalt was seething, the veins in his head being forced up against his skin, his enraged eyes looked down at me and he growled "You are lucky I'm too busy to punish you for taking so long to answer me, otherwise I'd stomp your face in, you dirty street rat.”

The seething Cobalt galloped off into a nearby alleyway, his growls still audible as his giant figure vanished.

I'd had enough mental stress for one day and decided after that little scene that I'd scurry off to work before something else happened.

All the while I just hoped that SRG trooper didn't suspect me of telling on him. I didn't want trouble...I really didn't, I just wanted Fable to be safe.

Just a peaceful little life for us both.

It'd be great had that been what I got.

********

Work was pretty typical, I operated the smelters with another buck.

We didn't talk much besides exchanging grunts, another one of those assholes who had let the rumors draw me before they'd even had a chance to meet me.

I was eventually called up to Whisky’s Office.

I really did appreciate all that Whisky Shot had done for me.

He treated me with respect and kindness, mainly because he and my mother had been in a fling before my dad, as Whisky Shot expressed it "Woo'd that mare so hard she fell pregnant before they'd even fucked."

Whisky was a good stallion, always cracking jokes, trading friendly banter and seemingly in a permanent good mood.

His leather clad office was pretty typical of a business manager, leather backed books, mahogany desk, the ever present smell of wafting cigar smoke and whisky.

He had however gotten his fetlocks dirty to achieve it.

"Chest’ i khavla, Sir" I said walking in.

Whisky spun around on his chair and snorted "Chest I' Khavla my ass" pounding his papers.

"I have to admit, if I hadn’t had the cheap labour I get from the orphanage, I'd be fucked monetary wise."

Whisky was an old but still muscular Earth Pony stallion.

He was a chain smoker and also drank a lot, which made his voice sound like an old pan being dragged along a gravel road. That's a bit of an exaggeration to be perfectly honest, though it was indeed pretty rough.

Whisky dropped the papers and shook his head "Well...what can I do..." he sighed looking over at me and opening one of his drawers "Can I interest you in a smoke, Nimbus? What are you, 18 now?"

I shook my head "Niet, 17 Sir."

"Nimbus, we talked about this, just call me Whisky, I won't bite you for it" he snorted "Come on, you want a cigarette or something" he said, waving a small tin box in front of me, dozens of cigarettes in it.

I shook my head "No, thank you. Sorry Whisky, I don't smoke."

He laughed and put them away "I doubt smoking will be what puts either of us away, it'll probably be pollution, knowing this place, or perhaps an SRG attack..."

I sat on the chair, looking enviously at all the books on his shelf.

Reading was always something I'd have loved to be able to do, but my literacy wasn't the best, I could read and write to a very basic degree but not much else. The orphanage school wasn’t too great...none of the schools in the Loyalist State were, all they really did was hammer into your head how great the board is, how malevolent Lady Sky Spring, and how stupid Cinnamon Swirl was.

A lot of what dominated Whisky's shelves were stories and memoirs written by famous wasteland wanderers, ever since The Lightbringer released her tale, others had done much the same as a way to share their experiences with the world.

I envied them all, I wished I was a brave wanderer, traveling the wastes and fighting evil doers.

As free as I wanted to be...

One in particular was always on Whisky’s desk, and it was none other than Littlepip’s own memoir.

To some she was a hero, a goddess and a paragon of everything good in this world.

Here, she was the enemy.

She was a symbol of the NCR’s authority and government, an ally to the republic, and enemy to our state.

Her book was banned here, in fact, come to think of it, most books about the wasteland wanderers are banned here. A lot of the literature came up here when NCR companies realized the trading opportunities contact with New Stalliongrad offered and then many were burned after the Winter War when Sky Spring took control and changed the laws.

“You could get locked away for a really long time for owning that” I said, gesturing to the book.

Whisky looked down at it and snorted “With these laws I’m surprised anypony can even cross the street without getting arrested.” He traced his old tired-looking eyes over to mine “That book is the least of my worries anyway.”

He butted his cigarette into the ashtray “So, I heard Fable started working at the sweatshop?”

I nodded “I wish she didn’t have to...I prefered it when she was secure at the orphanage while I was at work, these aren't safe streets.”

“Aren't you of age to sign out?” he asked. “Have you thought about becoming her legal guardian?”

I laid my hooves in my lap and looked down in thought “A lot, I was actually going to talk to Asphalt about getting the papers once I get back from work.”

Whisky smiled, patting my shoulder “Well, I can offer you a full pay job when you do, kid. You’re still my best employee, about the only one of you orphan brats I’d actually be willing to pay for, especially now...”

I looked at him curiously “What’s wrong?” I peered at the papers that laid scattered on his desk.

Whisky sighed and kicked his legs back in his chair “Money troubles, there's no market for the shit I make Nimbus, ever since that trade embargo with the NCR, I’ve been hard pressed to sell anything anymore, nopony in this country has the money to buy the machine parts or any of the various other things we manufacture here.”

“You know, you could start making weapon parts for the government” I suggested.

Whisky shook his head “I couldn’t bear dealing with weapons, it’s just...against my morals.”

The old stallion smiled “I remember when our borders to the NCR were still open, free trade between the mountains...” he sighed, lost in a haze of his nostalgia “I used to sell heaps of different products every week to the NCR.”

He returned from his mental journey and shrugged to me “I miss Cinnamon Swirl, she did a lot more for this region than that bitch Sky Spring could ever dream of.”

I had plenty to say about Sky Spring, but with the constant fear of punishment, coupled with my run-in with Cobalt I was too scared to voice my opinion.

“Now, get your book out, we’re doing math today.”

Whisky Shot...I really have boundless thanks for that stallion.

Ever since he let me start working at his blacksmith instead of the foundries, he’s taken me up to his office every day and done everything from teaching me rhetoric to basic math.

Without him, I’d probably be illiterate.

And like usual, he sat down with me and helped me sharpen my skills in math, not a subject I liked very much, but it’s still nice to have the option to learn it.

Eventually, it came time to head back to the orphanage.

I was sure, I was confident and I was excited about my chance to finally get Fable and myself out of there. And with a job from Whisky, I planned to save up and look for a way to move to the NCR.

It was always a dream of Fable’s to move to Junction R-7 and meet Fluttershy.

My little sister idolised that mare like you wouldn’t believe.

Fable wanted to be a nurse or a doctor, whichever one she could become, and the best way she saw of going about it was to follow Fluttershy’s work almost step by step, hoping that by doing this, she would fall into roughly the same circumstances as her.

I’d like nothing more than to see her fulfill her dream.

Just not here.

Besides, even if I let her follow that aspiration here, there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d get a place in any kind of school to learn that sort of thing. The good schools were all in the rich district on the other side of the city or in the nearby town of Midnighton.

And unless you were born into the rich districts, there was very little chance you got into the rich districts.

Heck, I haven’t even seen Capital Tower up close before, it has only ever been a distant landmark on the skyline for me.

Stalking back to the orphanage, I quietly passed the street where I’d come face to face with Cobalt.

I chanced a look at the building that had gone up in flames earlier that day.

The logo on the front was busted pretty hard, I could just barely make out the words.

GOOD MORNING LOYALISTS!

PRINTING

It was a newspaper printing facility.

Pretty typical target for the SRG. Good Morning Loyalists was the state sanctioned newspaper, supposedly it was dripping in propaganda, though I never saw anything particularly “propaganda-ish” about it.

But to be fair, I only ever read it once or twice a month, we never got access to any reading material besides the tattered workbooks.

I quietly walked through the gothic gates of the orphanage.

The orphanage itself was a very common breed in Stalliongrad, it was a repaired building from before the war.

This style was typical for the industrial and lower class districts. The lavish new and towering buildings were all in the rich and high economic areas.

After Gardens of Equestria was activated, the former enormous radioactive crater in the middle of the city and the blocks and blocks of flattened radioactive dust that surrounded it were no longer health risks, and the Loyalist State very quickly moved to start construction on the newly habitable land.

So the wealthy moved into the new and clean parts, while the lower classes were left with the repaired buildings of the old world, how fitting.

I walked up to my room, determined to look respectable and make a good impression on Asphalt for when I went to sign my release papers.

Asphalt was going to see that I was the responsible adult I needed to be in order to be released.

I combed my mane and tried my best to clean up my face by splashing water across it with my hooves and scrubbing with a cloth. Clothes couldn’t really be helped, but I tried to get rid of the soot and dirt on my coat.

Fable wasn’t back yet as the fillies always came after the colts, their workplaces being a longer walk away.

I put my best game face on as I walked the creaky wooden hallways, heading upstairs to the headmaster’s office.

My hoof carefully reached out and knocked on her wooden door as I waited quietly for a reply.

“Come in” her croaky voice answered.

I opened the door and walked into her office, there at the desk sat a mare on the cusp of entering her senior years. Her mane was specked with lines of graying hair and wrinkles dotted her aged face.

Her eyes looked up at me and she seemed to deflate annoyingly “What do you want, Nimbus?” she asked.

I stood up straighter “Chest’ i khavla, I’ve come to request a hearing with you, Head Mistress.”

She huffed “This had better be important. I have plenty of things I could be doing other than talking to you, so get to it.”

“Yes Ma'am” I nodded “I shall not be too long.”

Asphalt gestured for me to sit down on the chair across from her.

“Go on” she said, looking down at her papers.

I cleared my throat “Well, you see Ma’am, I think it’s finally time me and Fable got out of your mane, I’d like to request that I get our release papers.”

She chewed her lip, thinking hesitantly “Signing you out shouldn’t be too much of an issue, you’re a year older than the leave date so you should be able to depart without a hitch, there's only a simple problem, kiddo.”

I could feel the intensity leaking off her and sinking onto me “What?”

“Fable isn’t old enough to be signed out, so the only way I’m legally allowed to let her go is if she is adopted by a suitable guardian.”

I smirked and chuckled “Well then...fine, I’ll adopt her!”

She looked up at me blankly “I don’t know whether you’ve ever read your ID papers, Nimbus but you’re forgetting something” she leaned back “You can’t adopt, you’re not a suitable guardian.”

My mouth just laid agape “I...don’t understand, I’m above the legal age, I’m technically an adult, aren't I?”

“Yes, you are” she snorted “But just because you are an adult doesn’t mean you’re a suitable guardian for her.”

I was at a loss for words, how could this be?

She opened a cabinet and flicked a few things before pulling out a file and pushing it to me.

I looked down at it, it was my orphanage ID papers. A sad picture of me back when I was a colt topped the upper left corner.

“Read paragraph three” Asphalt noted.

My eyes drifted down to the paragraph she was referring to. And very quickly it began to make sense.

Patient ‘Nimbus’ exhibits several signs of anxious behaviour, repetitive activity and paranoid fits. Upon further examination, patient appears to be developing early stages of schizophrenia as well as a number of other mental complications triggered by some kind of event from his past. Unless treated, symptoms may escalate into a severe psychotic disorder as patient ages.

She...couldn’t be this cruel.

“Make sense now, kid?” she asked, taking the sheet back and putting it in the cabinet. “Besides, even if you were suitable, I couldn’t – not Fable.”

I looked up at her in horror “What do you mean!?”

Asphalt smirked  “She’s already been adopted, signed and stamped, this morning even” she smiled “In fact, her new guardian even made a small ‘donation’ for allowing Fable to stay in a safe home, much safer than she would be with a stallion like you looking after her.”

“W..wha...who!?”

She picked up a different sheet and squinted, as she read the small print “Lady Magenta.”

I froze in shock “Lady Magenta...?” I mumbled “Of...Lady Magenta’s Massage and Bath House?”

“Yes.”

I curled my hoof and grit my teeth “Surely...I must urge you to reconsider, Ma’am” I said, just barely able to conceal my rage.

“No, Lady Magenta paid for my assurance that Fable be kept here until she comes to collect her tomorrow, no exceptions.”

I looked up at her “You sold my sister into prostitution?” I hissed.

“No, that would be illegal” she snorted “I signed her over to a wealthy mare to be looked after in the hooves of a safe legal guardian. What she does with your little sister when she gets to her new home is no business of mine.”

I slammed my hoof onto her desk “You can’t do this!”

“Yes I can!”

“SHE’S MY SISTER!”

She stood up and scowled back at me “I don’t care what she is to you. She may be ‘your sister’ but she’s my orphan and like it or not, she’s under my jurisdiction.”

She walked over to the door and swung it open angrily “Now, I suggest you pack your shit and leave my orphanage before I call the guards!” she threatened.

I stormed to the door and looked into her eyes “She may be ‘your orphan’ to you” I growled “but she is MY sister, I promised my mother I’d protect her from ponies like you, and I swear I will, to the end.”

“Try and stop me” she smirked “You can’t threaten me, you little cretin.”

I stepped out and turned around “Mark my words, you cold hearted bitch.”

She snorted and slammed the door in my face.

So yeah, that issue. Now you know.

My mental condition.

It had always been a presence in my life, as a colt it had made me mentally unstable and caused anxiety attacks ever since my parents were arrested.

However, as I got older, they grew more and more severe, around when I got my...cutie mark I had my first episode and on occasion since then I’ve had more.

I’m still not entirely sure what happens during them. It’s not the usual hallucinations and panic, my episodes don’t frighten me because they a terrifying, my episodes scare me because I become something I am not during them.

I become enraged and unpredictable, I get the overwhelming urge to hurt someone...

They don’t tend to last long, just a minute or two, but these episodes have very nearly gotten me into serious trouble several times.

Normally, a course of medication would help dull them and keep me from slipping like I do, but I can’t afford medicine like that, nopony in this kind of district can.

I barged past the other ponies and stormed up to my door, flinging it open.

Across the room, Fable squealed and jumped in surprise as I barged in “Nimbus! What's wrong?”

I walked to our cabinet and pulled out her saddlepacks and my rucksack. I walked over and put it on her back and tightened the straps with my teeth.

“Your knife...do you have it?” I asked sternly, threading the rucksack over my withers.

Fable looked at me, still slightly startled “Yes...it’s in my pocket...” she replied timidly.

She took out the small, dull coloured knife and showed it to me before I took and slipped it beneath my coat.

I hate knives and Fable shares my feelings, but I had no choice but to buy her one. She needs it for protection when she walks to and from work, these are dangerous streets for a filly as young as her.

She needed one...just in case something happened.

I walked to our desk and started unloading the essentials and anything that would come in handy: the first aid kit, our ID cards and my pocket watch among various other things.

“...Nimbus...?” Fable asked, quietly trotting to my side, looking at me with a concerned expression.

I looked at her “Pack your stuff, Fable...I need to get you out of here and somewhere safe...”

“Why...?”

I stroked her young, innocent face.

“Because I promised, I’d die before I let any harm come to you” I smiled lightly “and that...monster, Asphalt is trying to sell you to some perverted pimp.”

She looked back at me, clearly shocked “W..what?”

I hugged her tightly and stroked her mane “Pack your things, I know Asphalt, she’s already called the guards to come get me, we haven’t got long.”

Fable looked confused and terrified but then, visibly pulling herself together, she nodded determinedly and ran over to her belongings, gathering them into a small pack.

I did much the same, except I simply piled my belongings, such as my books and pens, into my trenchcoat pockets.

We were quickly done and just as I was about to leave, I remembered something.

I cantered over to the window and took Fable’s music box, putting it into my pocket.

Fable walked to my side and stuck close to me as I swung our door open and trotted out, Fable directly behind.

Coming down from upstairs as I entered the stairwell was Asphalt, who looked angrily at me.

“I should have known you’d try something as stupid as this, the guards are on their way, so if you don’t want to rot in a cell at Artechoka like your bloody parents, I suggest you leave Fable and go” she growled.

I looked up at her “One day, you will pay for what you do to these foals, Asphalt, but not today. Today, I am getting my sister away from you, and you’re welcome to try stop me” I smirked, opening my coat and showing her my knife “But it’s not recommended.”

She stepped back and roared “You’re a fucking fool, Nimbus!” as we trotted down and onto the first floor “What do you think Magenta’s going to do when she learns that some stupid colt ran off with her filly? She takes pleasure hunting down morons like you!”

No, no hesitant thoughts Nimbus, you promised your mother you’d protect her.

The ponies standing between me and the door, who had looked on with wide eyed curiosity, stepped out of the way as quickly as they could.

I led my sister out into the snow blanketed courtyard, stopping for a moment to catch my breath and collect my thoughts.

I could tell that Fable was thinking about where we were going to go.

I hadn't thought that far yet, but in my defense, I hadn't had a quiet moment since I got back.

Truthfully, there was only one pony who would help me in a time like this.

********

The door swept open, flooding the dark alley with light. In the doorway stood the old stallion Whisky Shot.

“Nimbus? Damn foal, you know what time it is?” he said yawning.

Whisky peered at the shivering Fable by my side “Fable? Nimbus, what the hell is going on, isn’t it past your curfew?”

I looked back up the alley to see if we were being followed “Something happened...I will explain Whisky, but we need somewhere to hide.”

Though he was still confused, he nodded and stepped out of the way “Of course, come in.”

I shook the snow off my back and stepped inside, Fable doing the same and entering behind me.

Whisky checked the alley before closing the door and locking it, leading us into his small living room.

Whisky’s house was nothing fantastic, just a series of rooms attached to his blacksmith and office. He kept his house very neat and clean though. I can’t remember exactly, but I believe he was married with a son at some point in the past, I wasn’t really sure at that time.

“Sit, start talking. Why are you here, and why do you need to hide?”

I sat down on the couch across from Whisky, Fable climbing up and sitting on my lap silently, as she took a moment to recollect what had happened.

I stroked her mane and looked across to him “I don’t know, Whisky...everything I knew...it’s just been” I sighed “thrown all over the place.”

Whisky frowned, rubbing his face “Nimbus, that doesn’t help me any...”

“I know...okay just” I took a breath, to be honest, I needed to say this out loud for myself as well. I needed to hear it because I was still confused as to what had happened. “Asphalt sold Fable to a bath house, wouldn't let me take her, so I ran away from the orphanage.”

Whisky looked away, trying to soak it in “So it’s guards we’re dealing with?” he nodded to himself, pausing for a moment “Which bath house?”

“Lady Magenta’s Massage and Bath House.”

Whisky looked shocked “Shit Nimbus, Magenta? Are you sure?”

“Yes, why?”

He laughed uncomfortably “Magenta does more than sell poon, kid. Magenta is a drug lord, has ties to slavery rings, she even has paramilitary under her saddle” he rubbed his face again “The law says that a juvenile can’t be adopted to be a worker. Heck, pimping underage prostitutes alone is shit they send you to Artechoka for.”

“Asphalt said she was paid...” I offered.

Whisky nodded “No surprise, your ‘Asphalt’ wouldn’t take that kind of risk without good compensation, Magenta probably had to pay through her teeth and sign the paper with her blood to get Asphalt to even consider a deal like that...”

He glanced at Fable, who was looking between us, her eyes filled with fright and anxiety.

“She’s ‘invested’ a lot of money into Fable, Nimbus...” he moved his head up to face me “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Magenta is going to come looking for Fable and to that extent you, for crossing her.”

I nodded, stroking my young sister “That’s it, then.” I looked out his frosty window at the brown snow slowly drifting down from the sky. “Escape is the only option. We need to get out of Stalliongrad, get to the NCR or something...”

“Getting out of the city shouldn’t be too much of an issue, but I suggest you stay in hiding for at least a week” he laid back “Magenta will be expecting you to try to leave the city and run away, best to wait for everything to cool down a bit and let them search before you make your move.”

“Agreed” I replied.

Whisky stood up, gesturing to a dark hallway “Come, I have somewhere for you and your sister to hide during the day.”

I got up and helped my little sister to her hooves, before we followed Whisky down the hall.

We were lead into a small room with a single, heavily packed bookshelf and a desk, clearly some kind of private study, somewhere a pony could remain undisturbed, alone with their thoughts.

Whisky walked over to the bookshelf, sweeping the left side of it with a forehoof, leading to a small click and a low clunk before to my surprise the bookshelf swept out on a hinge to reveal a wooden door, which Whisky opened.

We walked into what can only be describe as a museum, filled with dozens and dozens of treasures.

The closer I looked, the more and more evident it became that this small room was in fact a storage for forbidden and outlawed contraband.

NCR flags, Steel and Applejack Ranger armour, hundreds of books and records, flags and posters, supporting everything from LittlePip to Cinnamon Swirl.

I just stared in awe “Whisky...I...”

He smirked “See? I told you I had more to worry about than some stupid book.”

“I’ll bring down some blankets for you, you can make up a bed for yourselves, help yourself to what's in here too, I’ve seen it all, might as well let somepony else enjoy what’s been taken from us” he said, walking out the door.

I turned around “Whisky...I can’t even begin to thank you enough for doing this.”

He chuckled “You’re a good kid, Nimbus. You just had a shitty run of luck” he smirked “I’d hate to see something happen to you two, and that’s why I do this” he turned back and walked before pausing again “Or perhaps it’s out of some vain hope that I’ll still win your mother over from your damn father” he chuckled walking away.

“Nim?” Fable asked quietly “What’s going to happen to us?”

I stood silently for a moment, flicking a nearby book open. It appeared to be about the Old Equestrian Monarch “I don’t know, Fable” I sighed “But I have to figure it out, and don’t you worry, I will think of something.”

“I’m scared...” she admitted looking up at me.

I stroked her mane “I am too, but I swear, I’ll get us out of this mess, Fable” I smiled thinly.

She smiled back just as weakly.

“I promise, things will get better.”