Fire Ghost Chapter 11: Skin to Bone

“They say you should dig two graves when embarking on a journey of revenge.”

“Hello everypony! It is I, Dj Pon3, comin’ t’you loud and proud from the Equestrian Wasteland! How ya’ll doin’ in post-apocolyptia today? Remember fillies and colts, it’s a wide, weird and dangerous world out there. Not every untouched salvage spot is ripe for the pickin’, y’hear? So exercise caution the next time you go ruin diving out in the middle of nowhere. Because those bones y’find? They’re not always from the war.

“And now, let your senses be stroked by good ol’ Sweetie Bell, singin’ ‘bout those rainy days.”

The melody was slow and sorrowful. It complimented the colorless landscape that rolled by. Hammer, Zinfandel and I had left quickly after our encounter with Hammer’s… handlers. The unicorn had sat in a pensive mood ever since. I felt I knew the pony, had saved his life, and he had returned the favor.

Hammer Horn, or ‘Custard’ as the mare had called him, had family reasons for lying about his name. It wasn’t something I could hold against him. Which was why I wasn’t going to press him. He would open up when he felt comfortable, but it was probably going to be sooner than he might have wanted.

Zinfandel snorted and laughed, beating her hooves against the steering wheel.

“Custard! Pff, haha! Oh, oh my sides. Oh they hurt. Were you trying to be macho with the ‘Hammer’ name?” She cried mirthfully. The Zebra's joy at his expense prompted the pony to defend himself and from there, into his story.

“Okay, so my parents and I did have a bit of a disagreement. I… found out about some of the deals that they’ve made to keep living their comfortable lives. And not just them, the whole family, going all the way back. They… helped smuggle zebra megaspells into pony cities in exchange for amnesty, for protection.” My feelings were somewhat ambivalent about such a revelation. The old war was so distant, separated as it was by time. From an academic standpoint I could understand the betrayal, however it all happened so long ago...

“They trade with Ragtag, with slavers and Red-Eye, and worse. They… we… make ourselves indispensable so that everyone else has no choice but to cow-tow. Well, I shouldn’t say that it’s just my family. It’s sort of a small group of families living in their estates right near the border. One of the servants told me about it and I just couldn’t stomach living there any longer. Not off the blood of old Equestria.” Hammer spoke with conviction that sounded taught. His arguments weren't just points of view, they were affirmations to himself, of his own reasons.

Zinny kept her opinion to herself, still on the tail end of her amusement.

“It wasn’t right, and I was going to grow up and have to do the same thing. So I left. Wasn’t easy either. I’m the scion. Eldest son. Supposed to inherit and go on lying and cheating and stealing. Not with guns and the like, but with favors and words. Might as well be a raider is how I see it. Found a pony in Rust Town who could make me disappear. They got me in touch with the mayor. Finding her sister and bringing her home would have been my payment.”

That did seem like something Citadel would do.

“Tracked her to Ghoul City, following the trail Feral left. Ran into Ghost. The rest you know.” It seemed simple enough, and definitely plausible. Disagreement with a higher power and subsequent decision to relocate. No revelatory vision followed his words, bathing the tale in blood, death, and turmoil.

A few moments passed with only the rumble of the Workhorse and the grumble of the tires over rough sections of gravel and broken road to disrupt it. Mostly empty landscape passed by, framed by an eternally overcast sky. It was relaxing in a strange way. The rocking motion of the seat complimented the hypnotic thrum of the noises of our passage.

A bit of a jauntier tune came on over my radio and I turned up the volume enough for it to fill the interior of the vehicle. (insert convertion into uhhh... a jauntier tune. I'll pick which one later) First Hammer picked up the chorus, singing along with the words. I had heard it myself a few times already, DJ Pon3's selection being rather limited. I joined in with what parts I knew and hummed the parts I didn't. Soon enough, Zinfandel added a feminine touch. Was studying pony radio stations part of Remnant training?

Perhaps it was odd, a griffin, a unicorn, and a zebra singing a two hundred year old song. Yet again, it struck me as the beginning of some cosmic joke. I could hardly wait for the punchline.

In those couple of minutes, I wasn't worried about what the future held. A rather nostalgic warmth blossomed in my chest that had nothing to do with the burn scar. What was this strange feeling? Friendship. Only a few days had really gone by since I had met the intrepid pair, and in that short time we had been through a fair bit. Each day outside my Stable had yielded more danger than my entire life prior.

Through our trials, we had grown close quickly, this young noble playing at adventuring, lost zebra medic and I. Although it didn't necessarily make sense, we three sang together and our bond strengthen through it. Maybe it made me miss Ruby and Blunt, but salved the yearning with immediate comfort. I lived in the moment and it was good.

***

I have seen strange and disturbing things during my time in the wasteland. When I saw the crucified ponies, I felt a chill run down my spine.

Someone had driven steel beams into the ground and strung up hapless ponies. Some had metal stakes driven through their limbs, others tied to the posts by wire. There was artistic variety in the poses. Many of the beams had protruding struts at different angles, allowing the limbs to be positioned differently. They hung in various stages of decay. Most were just bones while some still had a bit of flesh left clinging in strips and tatters. All of them, besides being put on display like pinned butterflies, had thick black X’s painted over their eyes.

It was getting to be late in the day, and the veiled sun cast strange light and even stranger shadows.

With how all their mouths hung open, the painted marks made it seem they were still all screaming their last. The black pits made it seem as if they were fixed on me. All those souls, trapped in pain, all staring at me. If I looked too long, I could have sworn I heard some of them. They scratched at the surface, whispering their final cries.

It was a pit that I almost fell into when the sight of the large building we were approaching brought back other memories. The last time I had gone to a hospital it had not ended well, or been conducive to my health. I doubted this time would be any different.

It was a grandiose but functional structure. My PipBuck dubbed it the Marauder Memorial Hospital. The construction had stood the test of time respectably, showing nothing beyond the usual wear and tear. The crucifixions increased in regularity the closer we got. A veritable thicket of macabre decoration was planted in the dry bed of a large fountain before the main doors.

Zinfandel pulled the Workhorse up the shattered pavilion, maneuvering around steel beams and derelict or overturned medical vehicles. There was a pony shaped blur and begrudgingly, I pulled down my vision adjusting flight goggles. Everything came into much sharper focus. I didn't like wearing them because it was a reminder that as a bird of prey, height of the avian hunting chain, I needed glasses. It was a notion that did not bear consideration for the humiliation that ensued.

Zealot was waiting calmly in front of the hospital entrance, bearing a wide grin. A few greasy locks of his black mane hung over the white mask. The earth stallion wore a strange looking gun in a battle saddle across his side. It was about as long as my automatic rifle with huge coils making up its barrel. And of all things, a sword lay in a scabbard across his back with the hilt in quick reach. The agent of the Lady also wore a suit of combat armor that made my paltry barding seem like rags.

When we were close enough he called out a welcome.

“Ah, my good friend. What a pleasure it is, Ghost, to be working together.” Zealot’s cheerfulness before struck me as rather fanatical, now it just seemed manic. I dismounted the Workhorse and approached. He was very still, but the stallion’s muscles betrayed the eagerness lying beneath his mask. “I trust you still have the gift from my Lady Nightmare? It will prove most useful I think in our coming search.” I raised my brow in suspicion.

“And just what do you expect us to find? For that matter, what are we finding?” I demanded. All the vague allusions were getting on my nerves. Reality seemed stretched thin around this violent pony. His presence was distracting. Around him I could almost taste the blackened aura he wore with glee. And for that matter, how long had he been waiting here around these purposefully displayed dead?

Hammer and Zinfandel joined me to listen in.

“It wouldn’t be any fun if I just told you, now would it? As to what we’re going to be fighting, that’s another matter. There is a creature that lies between us and our prize. It’s known as the 'Flayer’. You’ve already noticed some of its handiwork.” Zealot said with a sweep of a hoof, encompassing the many crucified forms. Beside me, the zebra mare muttered something that sounded like a ward against evil.

Yeah, going into this hospital seemed like a great idea.

“The reason this artifact is not already in the Lady’s possession is similar to why the spirit you touched remained out of her reach. Too many of her agents died in pursuit. She had us bide our time until someone like you came along.”

“How considerate of her,” I replied sardonically.

“Wasn't it though?” He said in rapture. The strange stallion took a moment to bask in his worship, staring blankly into the distance. His head whipped back toward me. “You and your companions must be prepared. Bring the Lady's gift. It will surely prove useful before the end. Join me inside when you're ready to proceed.” Without further explanation, Zealot practically skipped through the shattered glass doors into the dark interior.

“Is it just me, or is that guy a little crazy?” observed Hammer.

“What a brilliant deduction. What is next I wonder? Perhaps some math?” Zinny poked fun at the obvious statement of the unicorn. The two swapped a few barbed quips but both were rather subdued by the still atmosphere. Not to mention the smell.

“Yeah, he's a little... off. I think it goes without saying that this place gives me the creeps. Whatever this Flayer thing is, it doesn't like visitors. Don't load yourselves down with anything unnecessary. Take extra ammo too.” I checked all my weapons: Pistol, rifle, APW, power fists, and tail sheath. Compared to my companion's arms, my ensemble seemed rather excessive. Really, there was no kill quite like overkill.

As always, I would keep an eye out for lunchboxes to hopefully start to replenish my explosive armament.

“You think it'll be safe to leave our stuff out here in the open?” Hammer pointed out. Looking around at the visual deterrent sprouting from the ground, I felt our possessions would be safe for a few hours. Although he was trying not to show it, the unicorn was clearly on edge, his eyes darting to the empty windows staring down at us.

I took no chances, making sure my power gloves were primed and advanced with my automatic rifle out and ready with bayonet attached. Even at the threshold all I could make out were darkened shapes. I checked behind me to make sure my backup was close. Hammer nodded and Zinny just looked determined.

The receiving area of Marauder Memorial was full of moth eaten floor cushions and a long desk that had seen better days. A few swinging doors stood to divide the different sections of the complex. Zealot was waiting patiently at the general care wing. Well, more like pacing patiently. Two more dead ponies were staked to the walls with black painted eyes.

Most of it had been dedicated as a military hospital for more serious injuries coming from the front lines or war wounds that require more than a few days rest in a tent triage. At least that's the impression I got from the clipboard sitting on the curved desk. Hammer was busy poking cushions, chuckling as many of them simply collapsed into dust. Zinny joined me in examining medical records, trying to glean any useful information from what was laying out.

Behind the counter there was a small pile of caps and a few shots of med-x appropriately enough. Hopefully some healing potions wouldn't be too hard to come by. To my knowledge our medic was down to two of the miraculous elixirs plus whatever shamanistic brews she had left. Paltry scavenging done, we joined Zealot at his portal inward.

At the mere sight of us coming, he pushed them open, talking as he went.

“What we want is going to be in the deepest section. This hospital is connected to an underground research complex operated by the Ministry of Peace. They tested a lot of new spells and techniques here. Where better to develop than someplace where it would be needed the most? Naturally, they stockpiled some very powerful items and artifacts. Several of which are quite prevalent to my Lady's interest.” The energenic pony needed no prompting from me to continue his rather one-sided explanation of ancient history.

Zealot lead with a cool confidence that made me consider that he had come this way before. It would certainly explain his eagerness in plumbing the supposedly rich depths.

A ghoul crawled from around a corner, dragging its limp lower half behind it. Before I could even think to raise my gun, an electric sizzle split the air and a white bolt moving almost too fast to see punched through the hairless hide and turned the zombie pony inside out. The gnarled body was quite literally pulled into chunks by the force of the projectile.

I turned to stare at Zealot, who simply kept walking and stepped over the destroyed ghoul with no more concern than if it was just a pile of rocks. If he had that kind of power and ability, what did he need us for? The more I thought about it, the more I questioned whether aiding him was really worth risking my life and the life of my companions.

The three of us exchanged loaded glances.

“Just through this ward here we will find a set of emergency stairs that will lead us down to the research wing.” True to his word, we took another two turns past empty hospital rooms before there was a metal door to two flights of steep concrete stairs that double backed. We hadn't gone all that far really and already my sense of self-preservation was caught between screaming and begging me to leave. A pair of ponies, these missing their skin were poised over the open door, forming an arch. A few small radroaches nibbled on the decomposing meat.

Okay, maybe a little forceful warning of no trespassing was understandable, but really? Corpses posed into an arch above a doorway? Interior design with bodies was where I drew the line.

The lighting in the research area was respectable, if not quite adequate. Down here, the walls had shifted from a pure white sterile aesthetic to more of a utilitarian gray. The floor was made of cracked tiles. The first basement floors had observation rooms with wide windows looking in on beds or examination slabs.

A security robot ambled down the hallway, pausing to look at us. It was a bulky thing on tracks with an illuminated brain case and a barrel chassis. It decided we were intruders and the visible cerebral tissue changed to an angry red hue. Again Zealot's strange gun punched a hole big enough to see through in it. The noise of the robot's destruction must have stirred the hornet's nest however because a small stream of ghouls shambled out of their rooms and began to charge. The earth pony popped the head of one with another bolt of force.

I raised my automatic rifle, and pulled its trigger for the first time. I didn't think to use SATS so I got a real taste. The gun lived up to its name, spitting out a few powerful rounds at high speed. My first burst was fairly dead on, perforating a zombie torso. Brass tumbled and my aim shifted ever so slightly. They were all coming at us in the same direction down a narrow hall. With a slightly longer depression, I washed the stream of lead over two targets. One ghoul went down missing both front legs and the other staggered into a wall with a wet smack and fell.

Zinfandel's searing bolts of magical energy turned one charging abomination into glowing ash while Hammer pulped the only one that got close with a well-aimed swing. The sledgehammer caved in the soft chest cavity before launching the already dead ghoul through an observation window. Zealot decapitated two undead with a single swing of his long, slightly curved sword. I was in awe as the steel carved through flesh and bone like it wasn't even there.

The firefight had occupied the span of less than ten seconds and had been as ferocious as any I had been through.

Although I was disappointed that the elemental effect of the zebra modified rifle had failed to manifest, I was more than pleased with its physical performance. It was difficult to control, and I knew I wasn't taking full advantage of the gun's full capabilities. That just meant I could only get better.

Looking at Zealot I couldn't help but wonder why he really needed our help at all, besides this 'Flayer' thing that had a penchant for poor taste in décor. He hardly paused to take a breath before consulting with some inner sense of direction I wasn't privy to and turned to head down a different corridor. Honestly, his haste was starting to get a little annoying. Scrounging through dead enemies and old cupboards was a rewarding and slightly addicting endeavor.

Just thinking about the agitation made me crave a cigarette. And damn his impatience I was going to have one! My lighter clicked and a little ember glowed in my beak. I filled my lungs and was struck with a certain sense of irony when I consulted my PipBuck to find we were entering the burn study section.

Hammer and Zinny were in the grips of their usual quarrels over every little detail. The background noise was soothing in its own rather annoying way.

I needn't have worried about falling behind because our mad guide had stopped. That in itself did not make my steps and my heart falter. It was the smile he wore, and the vicious curl to his lip. Smiling was not the right word for it. The earth pony had peeled his gums back to bare as many of his teeth as possible, savoring the sight before him. Based on the way his cheek muscles twitched visibly, he hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

When I stepped beside the stilled agent, my own gaze shared his own.

In two rows of four, there stood large vats emanating sickly green luminescence. Along the walls were tall banks of medical equipment showing a wide variety of esoteric readings and measurements. Inside the tanks were just... blob looking things. Dull overgrowth, like fungus hung over the edge of each. A hovering medical bot circled, checking churning tubes to each of the squat cylinders. After a few rotations around the room, ignoring the pair watching it, the automaton stopped in front of one with a lot of strange fungus crawling down the side.

“Oh missus Star Tulip, aren't you looking lovely this morning. You're treatment is going swimmingly if you'll pardon the pun. Uh-oh! It seems the new skin is growing just a little bit off center. Don't worry, this'll take just a moment and won't hurt a bit, I promise.” The floating medical attendant cooed in a synthetic voice. To my immense disgust, the robot revved an attached circular saw up to speed and carved it along the lip of the vat, slicing through the thick protuberant matter that hung there.

The lump of biological matter flopped to the ground with a meaty thwack against the hard floor. The something inside the vat writhed and thrashed briefly in the strange container, splashing a little of the viscous soup out.

From the moment I saw the vats, my mind had started making connections to the burn treatment sign. The medical robot had only confirmed my suspicion. I knew what was in those containers. However, admitting it would make it real. Even so, I had to be sure. I had to know beyond a reasoned shadow of a doubt before I could accept what I already knew was the truth.

Walking across the wet floor, I holstered my rifle and held my PipBuck light up to the glass to peer through the cloudy emerald liquid. A ghoul with blind, milky eyes and a slack, open jaw stared back. I recoiled in horror and lowered my light. The ensconced, radiation changed creature was little more than a bulbous sack of flesh. My cigarette fell and I didn't bother to pick it up.

In my somewhat limited foray into the field of medicine I knew that the treatment of severe burns involved growing new skin from cultured samples of the patient. Was that the purpose of the vats? To encourage new growth for damaged tissue? I shuddered to think of my own burns, and was grateful that the occupant of the container was a ghoul whose mind was too gone to understand.

Turning, I saw my two friends standing at the threshold, their mouths agape and their faces stricken. Next to them, Zealot strode forward and turned his body to the opposite row from where I stood and before I could possibly imagine what he might be doing, the earth pony's weapon spoke. Bright flashes were accompanied by a cacophony of shattering glass. The contents of the broken containers poured out in sloppy deluges. The freed grotesques moaned and gurgled on the floor, unable to move under the weight of their own bodies.

Zealot wasted no time pulping their heads, silencing the mewling cries. Disgusted, I hovered above the thick sludge collecting around the sluggish drains set into the floor, repulsed by the thought of touching it. The earth pony turned and I flitted quickly out of the way.

The heavily armed stallion repeated his methodical destruction and execution, even shooting the medical robot through its body as the custodian tried frantically to attend its dying wards. It all seemed a little excessive. Pointless even.

“That ought to get its attention.” Zealot said with a vehement smile.

“What? Get what's attention?” Hammer demanded, caught between looking at the homicidal stallion and the remains of his work.

“The Flayer.” I finished. Something clicked in my head.

Claws flashing. One of many. Sleepers must not wake, waking must not dream. Skin to bone and bone to skin. On and on, flaying and sewing and skinning and sewing. Carving like an artist with a fleshy canvas. Painting with pain, brushing with knives.

And the agent of the sleeper shall taunt it. Seed the thought of vengeance and rouse with vigor that which should be lethargic. Love once thought impossible stripped like so many layers of muscle.

“You,” I challenged “What have you done? Do you even realize?” Honestly I wasn't sure myself, but I knew it was worthy of severe reprisal. Judging by the blissful look of satisfaction, I'd say he did.

“The Flayer doesn't like being seen without its... covering. Even then it doesn't like the light. So, we have to draw it out. What better way than pissing it off?”

I'm sure the argument would have escalated on my part if a loud, sibilant hiss hadn't bitten the air.

“Oh, fuck.” I whispered. I landed back next to Hammer and Zinny, taking what comfort I could from standing shoulder to shoulder with them. At the far end of the room, where another door stood open, a claw made of long blades reached around and scratched the wall once before retreating.

A bolt from Zealot's gun chased it into the darkness, followed quickly by the pony himself. He galloped without hesitation into the unknown. I don't know where the courage to follow him came from, but it came nonetheless. The same madness must have gripped the two beside me because they kept pace.

The stallion hadn't gone far and had thrown out flares to create a circle of light. I added my own PipBuck light and strengthened the luminescent protection. There was a loud skittering sound that seemed to brush right behind us, only for it to fade. No walls or ceiling were clearly visible from our point. They were too far away for the light to reach and I had to wonder just how big this chamber was. Behind us, the open door shut with a loud metallic bang, making me jump.

The fearless pony stood impassive as a stone, waiting.

I felt an odd tug at one of my back legs and looked down to see I was bleeding from a trio of lines above the ankle. My insides went cold. Whatever had cut me had been so sharp I had barely felt any pain. This was getting too freaky. I tried tracking it on my EFS, but as soon as I caught a glimpse of red it would retreat out of range or turn sharply.

I readied my APW.

“Here it comes,” Zealot said turning in the direction of the approaching skittering sound and spread his legs in a ready stance.

But this was a monster, and I was not a griffin to play fair with monsters.

When I could discern the movement in the inky blackness, I triggered SATS and aimed for center mass with my twenty-five millimeter launcher, queuing up two shots. The first was too high, hitting the far wall behind the beast, however the second sailed straight and true, detonating with enough force to send the still shrouded... thing skidding off its attack run. I raised my gun to fire again however I was shocked when Zealot put a hoof on the barrel and made me lower the weapon.

A rasping laugh emanated from the shape, and the creature stood.

“Hello, Zealot. I missed you.” said the Flayer. Nothing so gruesome should have a voice so buttery and smooth. “It's been a long time now. Two years since you left that pretty thing under my care? I see you brought new toys for me to play with.” It edged closer to our light, but not too close. The stallion did not respond to the Flayer.

“She called for you, Zealot. Even as she bled her last all she could say was your name over and over. She screamed it, she rasped it, and she gurgled and she cried it. Oh it was such sweet music. Her skin was, mm, sumptuous to say the least,” the Flayer purred. “Such a supple hide, so unlike my normal fare.” The creature clucked its tongue in distaste. At least, that's what it sounded like. “It lasted me for quite a while.”

My understanding of the mysterious pony deepened. At some point he had come here before, either with a partner or a larger group and had fled with his objective unfulfilled, leaving behind at least one member. A friend, lover, or family member perhaps. Maybe he and I were not so different after all.

The thing orbited us, teasing around the edge of our protective circle of light. In the shadows pooling beyond our island of phosphorescence, the creature was clearly draped with robes of stitched hide. Its eyes were round pools of iridescent purple. Sometimes The Flayer’s metal claws made tiny sparks as it dragged them across the ground, each sharper than a surgeon’s scalpel with which to ply its fleshy occupation.

The sparks were like tiny lightning bolts and ever so faintly etched sharper detail into my vision. Across the sternum where my explosive round had caught it the macabre leather mantle had been torn. Underneath were visible muscle groups. I could actually see the wet crimson strings slither over The Flayer’s metal bones. For the most part it was equine shaped, except for the vicious instruments tipping its forelimbs.

The acidic green glow from its eyes left afterimages across my vision.

It had no skin of its own. Zealot had said it didn’t like to be seen without being covered. For the monstrosity it was worse than being naked. No wonder it was so protective and covetous over the ghouls trapped in the growth vats. From them it could farm as many yards of skin it needed to cover its massive frame. Most of its coat was sickly brown, but laced throughout were splashes of brighter colors from non-ghoul victims.

“Your… friend was reduced to quivering meat. A lump of dissected tissue. It is simply amazing how all those delicate muscle groups and nerves opened up like a flower. A red, beating, pulsing bloom of beautiful blood vessel traceries and pulses of bioelectric signals. I opened her up and left her that way on one of my racks. She was lovelier that way than when she was so closed up.”

The Flayer stood up on its back two legs and put a claw to its chest, posing like a model on a runway, almost pouting as it showed off the undamaged hem of its ‘dress’. The abomination loomed over us.

“True beauty is on the inside after all.”

Strange things had happened to me, or have been told to me. I could think of few that rivaled this. An artificial fusion of machine and flesh that was obsessed with skinning things to wear connected to a pony that to my knowledge was invincible. That definitely rated as strange. Zealot had kept his cool through the Flayer’s speech, poised too hotly on revenge to be provoked now. After the speech delivered with such deathly proclivity, the agent had a response.

“We have come for the contents of the vault.” That got the Flayer’s attention. It stopped pacing and leered at us intently.

“The dreamer shall not wake. Mother knows best. I would have thought you learned that the last time? Tsk tsk, Zealot. Though you shall try and fail again, I have no doubt you will put forth as valiant an effort as last time. Too bad for your new friends. Maybe you should have told them about what happened to your old ones.”

“Silence.” Zealot spoke with a fury that chilled even my blood. I had felt the danger this stallion held, and although the Flayer’s terror inducing sight and ability bellied challenge, it would doubtlessly be a contest to behold.

He did not wait, aiming and firing with his powerful gun. The Flayer weaved nimbly out of the path of the projectile before Zealot had even triggered it, seeming to follow the trajectory of the muzzle. The release of tension into full combat was both exhilarating and most terrifying. Hammer swung his weapon in a magical grip and put a new hole in the floor where the beast had been. A few magical red beams found their mark but didn’t do any visible damage.

My APW had a little more success. Instead of trying to directly hit the flitting target, I instead tracked its movements and launched successive shots at its feet. The Flayer was unnaturally fast and difficult to predict, but I only had to hit near it to do damage. The blast overpressure was enough to make the metal monster slow and waver long enough for Zealot to draw a fresh bead.

The Flayer must have known somehow and leaped away; letting his shot kiss nothing but air again. For a tense moment, the four of us were back to back, trying to figure out where it would come from next. I could feel Zinfandel shaking and heard Hammer’s heavy breathing. My own heart thundered beneath my ribs in mortal fear.

I looked to Zealot and saw only the steel in his eyes hidden behind his mask, moving intently through the thick air. Although I normally liked the darkness, lack of light only aided our foe. Lacking flares like the earth pony, I loaded a clip of incendiary shells into my APW and listened intently for any sound. There was a tiny whisper of scrabbling against stone and I let loose a shot aimed as best I could.

The dull ‘fwoomp’ of my gifted gun belied its power. The round exploded against another wall across from us, the fiery bits falling to the ground, illuminating another doorway. There was a shrill scream as an edge of the Flayer’s skin cloak caught flame. Somehow I felt it was more an expression of effrontery over further damage to its covering than any real pain.

Strange thoughts came to me in this strange time. There was serenity in such battle. A thoughtlessness that comes over you. There isn’t time to think. Having to think means being slow and being slow means dying. It was the second occasion that had made me wish I had never found those files in the Overmare’s computer. Was being free worth facing such terrible things?

The more I saw of this world outside my underground home, the more I began to think that perhaps the world had died in Balefire. The last few survivors were just stubborn. The ponies and zebras had perfected killing. Had perfected killing so that they didn’t even need to do it themselves anymore. What kind of toll would a weapon like the Flayer take if unleashed?

Weapons…

No! No, not now! I struggled against the encroaching visions, trying not to let them take control. Now was not the time to be drifting off. It was a moment of hesitation, and one moment too many.

The Flayer sailed out of the darkness far from the angle it was last seen, grabbing Hammer as it went. The long claws hooked through the collar of his barding and hauled him along. I turned to the sound of his shout and couldn’t take a shot without risking hitting him. I holstered my explosive gun and readied my power fists, taking flight with a strong bounding leap.

It was fast, but the Flayer couldn’t outrun a griffin in flight. Until I was on the wing, I hadn’t noticed the bladed tail. The appendage lashed at me, cutting across my armor, and sinking deep enough to cut my chest. The distraction was enough for Hammer to reach with his magic and hit the Flayer across the head with his sledge.

Strong as the creature was, I had yet to meet anything that could shake off a blow from the unicorn. Stunned, the beast’s grip loosened enough to release Hammer. Although my strikes lacked technique, I powered hits into the Flayer’s side. The discharge singed the mismatched hides but I didn’t know if I was doing any real damage. My tail sheath seemed to do even less, the blade attached there barely sinking an inch in.

With a warcry, the unicorn threw himself at the creature.

I had to give Hammer credit, standing back and using his sledge was one thing. Tackling the Flayer and trying to wrestle it into submission while bashing it repeatedly with his weapon was another. Using my crackling power fists I gave what assistance I could. The fight was strange, the brightness of my PipBuck casting low luminescence. Everything was either harshly or dully illuminated.

All too casually, the Flayer bucked me, exploding the air from my lungs and sending me skidding along the floor. It backhanded Hammer as he pinned one limb down. With both of us out of the way and the metal flesh mash distracted, one of Zealot’s shots finally connected. The white flash exploded into a haunch and out the other side. The Flayer shrieked and spat curses while it spasmed.

Zinfandel called my attention back to the circle of light. With what thought I had in my breathless state, I grabbed Hammer and started hauling him in the relative direction of safety out of reach of the deadly creature. Wounded and dazed as well, he had enough sense to run with me.

The unicorn mumbled something under his breath, no doubt offensive, although I was a little busy running for my life to catch it. Zinfandel sent a few more crimson bolts over our shoulders and gestured for us to hurry. We reached the circle of flares and the zebra began to check us over. I turned to look back and the Flayer was nowhere to be seen. I had my own set of curses to mark the occasion.

“Alright, Zealot, what do we do now?” Hammer asked what I was thinking. The earth pony was wary and alert, looking all around. I used the opportunity to drink one of our last healing potions.

“I have a plan. We keep together and go through the morgue to the Dry Grotto. From there we can get to the vault. There, we can kill-” Whatever else Zealot may have said, was silenced by the claw that emerged through his sternum with a sickening crunch. His breath audibly caught as he looked down to the blade fingers sticking out of himself.

I froze, unable to comprehend. The Flayer picked him up and turned him around to peer into the eyes of the impaled stallion.

“I see you, little pony.” Zealot, agent of the Lady, went limp around the Flayer's claw. The sight was entrancing. Thought slipped away and reasoning became warm shapeless feeling. The Flayer examined him like a curiosity, as a child might watch an interesting insect. Deeper urges forced me to disregard the paralysis in my muddied thoughts.

“Run.” I breathed, nudging Zinfandel to get her moving. Out of the corner of my vision I could see my two companions watching the Flayer intently. The three of us started moving towards the outlined door. When we were about two dozen feet, raw terror sank its fangs into me and I turned to flee as fast as the wind would take me.

Reaching the door first, I held out my foreleg to see what was in the next room. Seeing walls close by lined with large shelves and with nothing immediately deadly, it seemed safer prospects than what lay behind. Our escape had not gone unnoticed.

Hammer and Zinfandel were almost to the door when the Flayer discarded Zealot’s body and turned towards livelier prey. Although we hadn’t seriously damaged the construct in any debilitating way, the cosmetic patchwork of skin had several tears and fresh holes. Many layers of it flapped loosely in the violence of its motion. For all its artificial nature, it sure knew how to move smoothly.

If I hadn’t been so terrified, I would have been fascinated by the intricacy of the mechanisms.

First the zebra, then the unicorn made it in beside me. Immediately I began to push, but the hugely rusted door barely budged an inch. Hammer, then Zinny threw their own weight beside me. The slab was almost closed when the Flayer hit it, the force knocking all three of us onto our collective asses. The hinges screamed in protest as the metal monster heaved and reached through the opening.

The groping limb made me back away. Knife-fingers flung some of Zealot’s blood over my face. I drew my pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullets caught flesh, and at close range damaged the muscle, ricocheting off solid bone. Some of its own oily fluid poured from the small holes. Withdrawing the arm, the creature resumed slamming itself bodily against the portal.

Together my cohorts fought a tug of war like no other.

“Hammer!” I cried as I pushed my legs to the limit against the ground. “Hit it! Hit the door!” I clenched my eyes and heaved all my weight and strength into pushing, but I was losing ground. Zinny was trying her best. Valiant, yet futile altogether. Then the strongest pony I knew, physically, and magically, threw all his power into one swing of his sledge.

There was an indentation in the metal of the door as it slammed closed into its frame with a shower of rust. Distantly, I heard a thud as the Flayer got a taste of its own medicine in being thrown back off a door. Before it could regain momentum I pulled a large metal locking bar into brackets. No doubt pissed, the Flayer hit the barrier again, denting the solidity of it in a minuscule way.

The Flayer screeched and clawed, metal shrieking against metal.

Even if it wanted to, the murderous creature couldn’t break it. This was a military hospital after all; most of the halls probably had defensive provisions to fend off invaders. For a while after the sounds of the creature venting its rage dissipated, and all I could do was lean against the door, panting in fear and adrenaline. My heart beat a crazy rhythm in my chest. The only sound aside from the blood rushing in my head was the panting of the two lives beside me.

Minutes, hours, or maybe just seconds passed, and my beating life muscle slowed from a million miles an hour. I reached for a cigarette and found my talons shaking too much to grab a single one out of the pack.

“What the fuck. What the fuck, man? The fuck was that thing? How can it do that shit? I hit it. I hit it right in the head. Even metal it shoulda been gone. Shoulda gone down.” Hammer panted and muttered.

“It ripped Zealot apart like he was nothing. How can something so unnatural be so strong?” Zinfandel said distantly.

“What does it matter, he’s dead. Whatever. We need to get the fuck out. Fuck this. Fuck whatever we’re here to find.” Hammer’s voice was edged with hysteria.

“And how do you propose we do that, genius? If you had not yet noticed, the only way out is blocked by the death machine.” The zebra got right up to his face, gesturing angrily at the barred gate.

“Well, maybe if we left you for bait. You’d complain enough to draw it off.” Hammer’s voice rose in volume, challenging the banded mare right back.

“Guys, chill. This is not the right time.” My voice cracked partway through my appeal and ended up a gravelly whine.

“How about I shove your worthless self out there, you are meatier.”

“Yeah, well maybe if you had done more than just blink your little flashlight then Zealot would still be alive.” Hammer growled.

“Woah, that's going a little far. C'mon.” This time I was just flat out ignored as they gesticulated inches from each other.

“Excuse me? I will show you what this ‘flashlight’ can do. I at least was not the one getting dragged off by the giant skin wearing… thing! All you are good for is waving your little toy around.” She sniffed derisively.

“Oh, bitch you did not just insult my hammer. Fuck you, and your stripes.” Things were escalating between the pair and I had just about had enough. The volume of their argument was giving me a tension headache coupled with the adrenaline backlash.

“What did you say to me you limp-dick excuse for a pony?”

“Don’t test me, bitch. Not right now.” Hammer jabbed Zinny with a hoof.

“Quit it. Both of you.” My voice had regained a little strength through the pounding in every escalating word. Again, I was disregarded.

“I will turn you to ash, before you have any chance to bash.”

“Oh shit, the rhyming. Spare us the fucking rhyming!” Hammer threw his front hooves into the air.

“You have a problem with my rhymes? Fucking ponies, what a waste of time.” Zinfandel rolled her bright green eyes and flipped her bangs.

“I’ll waste more than your fucking time.” Hammer brandished his namesake threateningly.

“Fucking try it!” Zinny got back in his face, both baring their teeth.

I had had enough.

With more than a little anger, I grabbed both of their manes, and crashed their foreheads together with a brain rattling thud. Although agitated, I was in control enough to make sure Zinny didn’t get a new hole through her skull from Hammer's horn. They went down together like sacks of apples.

“Shut up! Both of you shut up! By all the fucking dead gods above it’s like listening to a pair of foals squabble over candy. Are you two sure you’re not blankflanks? Because I sure as shit can’t tell. At this point, I’m waiting for the makeup fucking to begin! Maybe you two just need a good rut. Sheez!” Even though they were still recovering, I wasn’t done ranting.

“I mean by Celestia’s burning teats, I’ve seen some fightin’ in my time but do you two go at it. And right now of all times? Could we wait until after the mother fucker who wants to skin us is dead to do this? Really, as a professional courtesy maybe.” I pushed enough sarcasm in that last statement to peel paint. They at least had the shame to lie on the ground and not look at anything while I shouted at them.

“God dammit it’s no one’s fault that Zealot is dead. It’s the Flayer that killed him. I didn’t pull the trigger, and neither did you, so quit with the fucking blame-try-to-kill-each-other game. We are in some deep shit right now. And I don’t know about you two, but I think three shovels are better than one.” Shit analogies notwithstanding, it seemed like I was getting through to them.

“Our guide is gone. We don’t know how to get back and there’s a homicidal metal thing with weird fetishes after us. There’s a whole lotta unknowns. But we will not get out of this alive by fighting with each other. We will survive this by not panicking. By sticking together.”

A little corny, perhaps. Ham-fisted even. Both were no doubt nursing headaches at least somewhat sympathetically to mine. Dammit now I couldn’t light my cig because my claws were shaking in anger! Okay, maybe it was still terror, but I could blame them.

Hammer rubbed his head.

“What’re we gonna do, Ghost?” He didn’t sound angry, just lost and scared. Zinny looked up at me with wide eyes. They were just as afraid as I was. They just had different ways of dealing with it.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, brushing a talon back through my crest. With a little work I managed to get a stick in my beak and lit. One long draw later, I felt a little more stable.

“We’re gonna…” Something convincing. I had to make it sound like I believed it. “We’re gonna survive. Much as I hate to say it, screw whatever we were here for. That died with Zealot.” Was I becoming jaded to death? Perhaps a little. “We can’t go back the way we came, so obviously we have to go forward.” I gestured into the darkness ahead.

Keep it simple. One thing at a time. Clear objectives.

“Zealot did say something about a Dry Grotto. Now if I know anything about underground shit, then that probably means there’s a path that water used to take. Where there used to be water, there are pipes. And where there are pipes, there has to be a way out. Right?” I had to hold out hope that there was more than one exit out of this fucking hospital underground.

Who thought this building design was a good idea? It seemed like the old world ponies just loved unnecessary construction. Though in retrospect it does seem like they at least built to last.

“Yes, yes that makes sense. We just need to find the morgue. Somewhere beyond that is this Grotto.” Zinny clung to her words as a lifeline.

“Yeah, yeah, then we get th’fuck outta here and have a happy day.” Hammer agreed. “But uh… Does it seem cold in here to you, Ghost?” I looked at the unicorn oddly, noticing that he was shivering slightly. I would have attributed it solely to him being sweaty and cooling off if not for the water crystals puffing from his mouth with his breath. The banded mare too was huffing visible air.

It felt chill to me, but not that low in temperature. This was strange, and I tried to think of a reason why the air would be so cold. A faint hum could be heard from unseen air compressors to refrigerate the room. Why would they be running? Unless the Flayer or the hospital wanted to keep something cold.

Raising my PipBuck, it became clear.

“Well, at least we found the morgue.” My voice trailed off.

Huge sets of racks stretched up to the ceiling, attached to rails along the ground to allow them to be moved by consoles set against them. The racks each held dozens of veiled, temperature preserved bodies. They went on into the visible light.

“I think we should get going. Y’know, just a thought. Unless, anyone feels like having a two hundred year old pony popsicle.” Hammer pointed out.

“I think I’ll pass.” I walked slowly, warily past the many racks, my friends keeping pace besides me. Alert to threats, we finally reached the end of the morgue out into another set of corridors. These seemed to be autopsy rooms set adjacent to the morgue for body retrieval.

The dissection machines poised above the tables were unnerving, poised to fulfill their grisly tasks of organic examination with gusto even as they rusted. I took the opportunity to scavenge everything I could find. There were several medical boxes ripe with fresh supplies, several of which required a little bobby pin persuasion by Zinfandel.

Our healing potion supply needed a little bit of a boost along with fresh bandages and other ancient medical miracles as well such as med-x and other drugs and chemicals besides.

I took the time spent waiting on the banded mare to strip the dissection apparatuses of their knives. Many of the tiny blades I left but there were two per machine that were large enough to catch my interest. A little wrench work later and half a dozen were mine. At least parts must have been imbued with preservation spells to keep them from rusting and the ones I took were mostly free of corrosion.

The distraction of dismantling mechanical devices was welcome.

Around a corner there was a malfunctioning security robot that trundled forward at the sight of me and raised its weapon to fire. Luck was on my side as its gun misfired and ignited its own charge packs, exploding from the waist up. I winced at the noise of the explosion and was filled with dread, wondering who or what may have heard the commotion.

I stuck my flank against a wall and motioned for Hammer and Zinny to do the same while we waited to see if anything came to investigate.

For about a minute I became painfully aware of the feeling of my beating heart and the flight goggles pressing against my sockets. Just as I was about to relax and continue on, a cluster of red bars appeared on my EFS. A dark shape melded out of the space beyond. I could hear the ghoul snuffling about, picking around the bot. Soon one became two, two became four, and four became ten. All of the zombie ponies milled about, bumping into each other, hunting for life.

I wondered what the creatures subsisted off of when I remembered all the bodies the Flayer left strung up and crucified. They had all the meat they could eat. The ghouls were in the way, and unlikely to leave anytime soon. I hefted my rifle and gestured around the corner. Hammer and Zinfandel both nodded and I turned to take aim at the nearest shape. Exhaling, I squeezed the trigger firmly.

My skills were sorely lacking to use the automatic rifle to its full potential. The hefty gun was difficult to handle and about half of my shots missed, yet half was all it took to blast the pony of its hooves. I fired in bursts of indiscriminate fire down the hallway, killing one more and wounding a few others.

Even before the first shell casing had hit the floor, the rest had all started charging towards me. They were a lot faster than I anticipated and were upon me before I could even eject the spent clip. A few bolts of power sliced into the knot of mutated creatures from Zinny behind me before they my position.

The first ghoul that reached me got a bayonet through the sternum for its troubles. There wasn't time to retract the blade and free my automatic rifle before more piled in behind it, forcing me to let go of the gun to confront the fresh attackers. I stabbed out with my bladed tail, catching the next in the throat. The ghoul could have cared less about the injury and kept coming at me.

Next was a lot of backpedaling and punches with my power fists. There was hardly any room to maneuver or dodge, just a lot of slugging it out with the ghouls that could reach me. Hammer struck with his floating weapon around me while Zinny kept up her fire, snapping out shots as the opportunity presented itself.

Brittle bones cracked under my blows, every strike aided by immense discharge that snapped off entire limbs. For a few mind bending moments it was a little hairy, but these were low level ghouls, scraping away an existence from the Flayer's leavings. They were weak and although their bites packed a tenacious strength, they were no match.

I heard the bang of a ballistic gun and felt a pain lance through my back right leg that brought me to my knees. With a gasp I slammed my claws into the heart of the last ghoul which fell over with a gurgle and a thud.

“Hammer!” I shouted between pain and indignation. The unicorn stood with a smoking pistol, dumbfounded.

“What?” He asked, mystified.

“You shot me you blind bastard!” I hobbled a little further, holding up my back leg. His face shifted between surprise and then amusement, and settled on contrite.

“My bad. M'hammer broke.” He laid his ears back sheepishly and holstered his pistol with a nervous grin. The unicorn floated out the two pieces of his weapon, now splintered about three quarters length down the handle.

“I'll fix it, hold on. Zinfandel, help if you please.” I asked the zebra medic with a tentative wave of my leg. The bullet had dug a nice furrow through me so at least spared me the joy of having lead dug out. Snorting a little under her breath, the banded mare inspected the wound a little and hoofed me a healing potion.

I chugged the thick purple vial happily and felt the throbbing burn drop to a tingle and fade. Within a few seconds I was good as new. Forlornly, Hammer Horn gave me his namesake, now a pale imitation of its former glory. I confiscated the offending pistol too for personal safety.

Aside from the splintered wood, the metal head of the mallet was loose on the final chunk of handle, scratched and rounded at the corners from so much use. Some Wonderglue and an entire role of duct tape later, it was back together. It wouldn't last much longer in its current condition.

To my further dismay, I found I only had two clips left for my automatic rifle, having expended the rest much more quickly than I would have liked. The power of the gun was balanced by the fact that ammo was hard to come by and fucking expensive. Blowing through enough rounds to fill a hunting rifle ten times over wasn't good.

I put the weapon away so as to preserve the last of the ammo for an emergency.

When I saw Zinfandel pull out her pistol I knew we were in trouble. We had brought along enough food and water to last a while, but had gone through nearly all the ammo I had bought at Rust Town. This was a hospital; guns and ammo were not in abundance, yet I could hope otherwise. So we moved forward. I pulled some magic cells from the self-annihilated robot so that our medic could switch back to her main weapon. There was little else among the ghouls worth picking up.

Around the corner was a security checkpoint. At last I thought that we might get some better armament. Our group’s medic unlocked the door and let us in. There definitely quite a few ammo cans, a fair few sealed. Zinfandel got to work with bobby pin and screwdriver. I was honestly still surprised that she didn’t do some zebra hoodoo with a wave of her hooves that undid locks.

It wasn’t a very big room, just a pair of ballistic glass windows, a desk with a terminal, and a few empty gun racks. Why were they always empty? I toyed around with the terminal a little, plying my mind as best I could to the encryption but invariably getting myself locked out. Two of the cans were brimming with shotgun shells, which would have been great if we had found a shotgun to go with them. Also a plethora of rifle ammo too small for my automatic. I left feeling very disappointed with Marauder Hospital for a place that hadn’t been very often scavenged.

We passed a few more turns and empty halls before emerging into a closed off room made of rough rock and metal stairways going down. The further down we went, the colder it got. It honestly didn't bother me, but by the way Hammer and Zinny were shivering it was bad. At the bottom was a metal hatch that slid smoothly open. Through it was an old generator room that hummed with power. The squat turbines thrummed and sometimes gave an unhealthy metal click, symptomatic with degradation.

A sudden alarm broke the quiet, nearly making me shoot the darkness in surprise. The ringing purred then faded, and a second later started up again. It was… a phone? I remembered working on one or two back in Stable 57, used for privacy compared to the intercom system.

Yes, of all things, a phone against the wall was ringing. I exchanged glances with my companions and both looked as puzzled as I felt. It rang persistently, showing no signs of stopping.

Hammer was the one who trotted forward and picked up.

“Hello?” He asked, perplexed. His face shifted between skepticism, terror, and then confusion. After a moment of listening, the unicorn held the receiver out in his magic. “It’s for you, Ghost.”

When I took the old thing, I didn’t know what in Celestia’s name to expect.

“This is Ghost.”

“Yes, I’m calling to deter you from your current course of action. The sleeper must not wake. Mother knows best after all,” said an incredibly deep voice. There was a little distortion in the line, but the words were pretty clear.

It was the Flayer.

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out. I know why Zealot sent you here, and you won't get it. Mother knows best. You must leave now. But, I won't let you. I see you, little griffin.” Tingles ran down my spine and I turned, searching every shadow and corner for those glowing eyes.

“Don’t listen to him!” screeched another voice, this one belonging to a mare. I pulled the receiver away in pain as the pitch of the mare’s cry rose into distorted noise.

“This is unexpected. Excuse me, but you have no business in this conversation, miss.” The Flayer said.

“I very much so have a right if you’re trying to mess with my dear Ghostie.” The female speaker stated possessively.

“Have we met before?” I asked into the phone.

“Of course we’ve met! You rescued me. Don’t you remember, silly? Oh, fond memories indeed.” The mare I saved outside of Rust Town sprang to mind, but no… this was someone else.

“Back to the matter at hand, if you please. Due to certain alarms having already been tripped I will warn you once, Ghost. If you dissuade yourself from your current goal, I will have no choice but to take more drastic measures in preventing the dreamer’s awakening. That is my charge, and I will fulfill it to the letter. Let me assure you that no harm will come to you if you do or don't comply.”

This was odd, gone were the insane giggles and strange obsession with skin. Was the Flayer asking me politely to leave? There was no quaver or maddened inflection of tone. It would be very nice if leaving were so simple. Yet this thing was clearly insane, speaking in obvious contradiction.

“Don’t you tell him what to do! My little griffin knows exactly what he’s doing. If it’s pissing you off mister, then he must be doing a good job of it.” The mare descended into bubbly sniggers.

This was getting weird in a nonsense way fast.

“So how did you know to… uh, call me here? Well, at the moment I can’t not go further into this place, so how about-“

“Unacceptable. This interference and this variance will not be tolerated by you or your allies. Understand that there will be consequences beyond your imagining.”

“Now wait,” I tried to appeal to this oddly reasoning creature before the mare jutted in once more.

“Are you threatening him? Are you threatening him? I will find you, and I will cut you in half before you touch even a single feather on his head!”

“There is nothing you can do to me. If you had any sense you would try and dissuade him.”

“I will do no such thing! You listen to me, Ghost. Whatever this guy wants you to do, you do the opposite.” The two cut back and forth too quickly for me to get a word in edgewise.

“Like that will actually do any good.”

Very gently, I hung up the phone, and the entire assemblage proceeded to fall off the wall with a crash.

“So… who was it?” Hammer asked after the dust had settled a little.

“I have no idea, and honestly, I’m more confused than ever. But hey, at least that’s nothing new, right?” I said with a grin. Trying to be confident, I crossed between the live generators to the other metal hatch. “C'mon, we've hit bottom. Nowhere to go but up.” When I opened the door, I dearly wished I could have taken back my fate taunting words.

I stared into a chasm so deep I felt vertigo grip me.

My heart rate spiked and I had to draw back lest I lose my balance. Hammer peaked out and had similar reservations. After taking a few breaths to calm myself, I realized that I had been looking out over a bridge. Going back to the hatch I took a better look.

The first thing I realized was that it was totally underground, having hoped that maybe looking up I would have seen sky, but it only kept going up into similar blackness. I could have just flown out if that were the case.

A long span of grated steel crossed the apparently endless drop to the other side. Across the way was a huge gate, easily fifteen feet high and twenty-five across. Huge floodlights were above it, shining onto the connection. Looking to my right, I saw where a few other walkways connected the bridge to different doors set into the wall of the chasm.

A red light flashed above the gate and huge pneumatic pistons lifted out of their locked positions. Before it was fully open the Flayer slid through and reversed the lock. The gate protested angrily, gears grinding as they stopped and turned the opposite way. The huge machine slammed back closed with a certain finality.

The Flayer moved, and I ducked back, letting just enough of me hang past to see. The Flayer prowled along the bridge to one of the other hatches, taking the time to strike a pose in the spotlight. The metal monster trailed a claw lovingly across the tarnished walkway and disappeared.

Well... shit.

I let out the breath I had been holding. I could only attribute the Flayer's lack of direction straight to killing us was its apparent inability to reason. Otherwise surely it would have headed right to this hatch.

Trying to weigh out the options in my mind, I came to very little. The gate the Flayer had come from wasn't an option, there being no clear way to emulate what it had done. Going back the way we came didn't sound very good either, not with the creature roaming the halls, knowing them much better than I, even with an automap.

Looking out again, I noticed a path carved into the stone of the gorge. I waved my companions over for a look. It was precarious, there being only an old metal pipe for a railing. The chasm turned and I couldn't see around the corner. At least out in the open I could stretch my wings and hover.

“I do not like this, Ghost. There is something evil about this place.” Zinfandel said around chattering teeth as she tentatively stepped onto the stone. I wasn't going to disagree.

I flew around, ahead of my friends as they threaded their way along the path. All the way past the bend was a strange whitish outcrop attached to the other wall. With my much improved eyesight I spied another door, this one maybe leading to an emergency exit. There was a long but narrow walkway that could be lowered from a crank. All in all it seemed a little unprofessional for a hospital to have such dangerous conditions.

Landing carefully, I grabbed hold of the crank and strained against the rusted gears. Something was too old, and snapped, letting the bridge hanging above crash down. Wincing at the avalanche of sound, I turned and waited for my friends to catch up.

There was something... off about the floor. A strange substance encrusted the outcropping of rock. Pillars... no, giant glass tubes lined one wall. Nearly all of them were cracked, some broken open completely.

And the vision...

Brewing, conjuring, crafting, culturing all manner of viral organic compounds. They were nurtured for experimentation, for understanding and medicinal salves. Then, after the fire rained from the sky and the life within the tubes was forgotten.

In time, lost, it grew outside the bounds originally set for it. Doing what all life does: Survive.

Initially, sustenance was plentiful, the living tissues and organisms gorging themselves on the nutrient rich fluid in the tubes. Together they became a very unique ecosystem, ripe with cooperative symbiosis.

The joys, the tenacity of life is never to be underestimated.

Then the mare came, many years later, part of a scavenging team delving deep into the bowls of the hospital in search of medicine and loot. They were chased by the Flayer, as was to be expected. What wasn’t expected was the betrayal leveled by the leader of the troop, abandoning the mare to her fate, trapped on outcrop with a tireless killing machine waiting for either the bridge to lower or the door to open.

At first afraid, the mare eventually became accustomed to the strange creatures that had evolved, accelerated by the faint magic radiation that leaked through the rock. They fed her, and in turn, she fed them.

Time passed, she died, food ran out, and rock was not enough to sustain. Cartilage and bone calcified, while muscle atrophied and froze.

The pain from the visions had almost faded from memory. It was bad enough this time that I had to take a shot of med-x.

Something felt wrong in my head, like wires were being crossed. I couldn’t help but imagine a cackling demon pulling my neurons this way and that like a demented puppeteer, showing me only death and doom. In my conscious state I knew what I saw wasn’t real but in that thin barrier between waking and sleeping when everything blurred together, I really didn’t know.

The idea of my sanity slipping away was enough to startle me out of my reverie before Hammer and Zinny could wonder why I was standing still for so long. At least then I knew what was wrong with the floor. The ancient flesh had vitrified around the rock in a sort of collected commune of organisms.

Near one of the glass pillars were the bones of a mare, curled around countless tiny bones of unidentifiable creatures. They were locked together in final moments, cut off from the entire world and the troubles of it. Hammer strode up onto the mat of vitrified material and paused in contemplation.

“I wonder what this stuff would taste like. I bet if you cooked it long enough…” The first thing that came to my mind was the smell such a concoction would have and I immediately felt my stomach turn. Zinfandel was the first one to point out the obvious question.

“What is this place, Ghost?” For a sheer half of a moment I wondered why the banded mare thought I would know before I realized that I did.

“This is the Dry Grotto. Let’s not linger.” Zealot had no doubt thought to take this abandoned path to sneak up behind the Flayer. Whatever the reason, I took my own words to heart and opened the hatch leading out of the Grotto.

***

“Holy hell!” I shouted over the din.

The robot was armed, armored, and blared a screeching siren. Heavy fire blazed from the gun set onto the side of its boxy torso. I laid myself flat against the floor and lashed out with my own automatic. Hammer tucked himself behind a vending machine of all things while Zinfandel rolled through a doorway to avoid being lacerated.

Bullets tore through the air, impacting the thick metal plates protecting the defensive automaton. Lead rained against metal in staccato rhythm with the sound of my gunfire. The rounds staggered the robot, throwing off its aim. In less time it took to draw breath my rifle clicked empty and the bot sagged back, smoking through the couple of penetrating holes.

I reloaded. A few rounds had hit me too, digging into my barding and cutting shallowly into flesh. The alarm slowly died.

With a lurch, the security bot righted itself and the covering on the box on the opposite side of its torso opened, revealing multiple rockets. There was no cover for me to dive for, so I lay on the trigger once more, until smoke rose from the end of my gun’s barrel and once more the bolt slid onto nothing.

Strangely, a small corner of my working mind took a moment to enjoy the scent of cordite, a sharp, powerful scent compared to the mellow strawberry aroma of my cigarettes. A dying note of failed gears and slipping joints issued from the chassis of the army robot as the light behind its helmet-like slit faded. I felt relief wash over me until the next robot trundled into view on fresh treads.

This one had time to get use with its rockets, the explosion showering me with debris. Lucky for me, it took the shot too early and the explosive sailed into the vending machine Hammer was taking cover behind. The large drink dispenser nearly flattened the unicorn and forced him out of cover between me and the death machine.

Not one to think much, Hammer Horn swung his recently repaired sledge right into the side of the robot’s squat head with the sound like a bell and snapping wood. The blow knocked the machine right over onto its side, completely off the treads while the upper half of Hammer’s mallet went sailing off into the darkness, leaving him with only half a stick.

It seems my repairs weren’t up to snuff with the unicorn’s abuse. Still alive, the machinegun side moved to point at the flummoxed pony.

“Watch out!” I shouted with all my might, mentally urging him to move. Zinfandel was quicker and knocked Hammer out of the way, through an adjacent opening, but not before both of them got a brief hosing of gunfire.

My talons were only a fraction of a moment slower, putting down my gun, and drawing my grenade launcher. I had two clips left, one of explosive, one of fire. The throaty sound of my weapon punctuated the whine of the machinegun.

The shell went true, and shattered the fallen robot, blowing it to pieces. Chunks of smoking wreckage clattered off the walls as the air shook with thunder. Heat and pressure washed over me and my thoughts flitted to my friends. Briefly, quiet fell as the last of the remnants stilled.

Then another security robot came around, trundling heedlessly over the fallen.

I broke that toy too. Using the last explosive shells I had, I blasted it to scrap in moments, trigger pull after trigger pull. The walls were blackened and cracked by force. It took a few seconds for the bright flash of the detonations to fade from my vision. More red bars propagated on my compass.

Fuck, fuck, fucking shit pissing hell.

As soon as I was able, I rose up from the floor and ran forward. Around and down the side passage I hurtled to my companions. Zinfandel was holding Hammer’s head, slowly getting him to drink a healing potion while her own wounds still flowed freely with her blood. There was a strangely distant look in her eyes that I didn’t like, and the unicorn was definitely delirious.

“C’mon, Zinny, we need to get away from here, hide and wait this out.” She nodded without speaking and moved to one side of the injured pony to help me lift him up, but I would have none of that. Reaching forward, I got a good grip in Hammer’s barding and hoisted him up onto my back.

The banded mare was freezing up, breaking down after so much time spent running and fighting for her life. Everything smelled like rot, decay and gunpowder. All the sensory assaults were wearing her thin. I had to practically shove a healing potion in her face to get her to drink it. The same thing was happening to Hammer. He was slowing down, getting sloppy; else he would never have been so injured.

I was reminded readily of just how big a pony he was. It was hard going, but soon I had a worked up to a good pace and led us from the sight of the frenzied fight. Fortunately it seemed the robots weren’t particularly skilled at tracking.

We went down a lot of stairs. Down and down into the freezing dark.

Eventually Hammer regained enough of his senses to get off my back, literally. I wanted to find a safe corner to tend to our wounds and rest and proposed the idea out loud to my coterie.

“Whatever man, I ain’t sleepin’ out here. No fuckin’ way.” He said around a yawn.

“Yeah, we need someplace that there’s only one entrance that we can barricade. I really wish ghouls were the only thing we had to deal with down here.” We looked around for a few minutes until we stumbled across an old storeroom. As if there weren’t enough useless side rooms in this place. At least this one had a few old mattresses stuffed into a corner along with a few other bits of semi-useful junk.

The door had a lock, but we barricaded it nonetheless. If anything tried to get in, we’d hear it in time to wake up. Even so, I made sure that my guns were in easy reach and didn’t take off my barding. We laid the two mattresses out on the floor.

Zinfandel tended to all of our injuries with the somewhat abundant medical supplies we had gathered.

There was nothing to make a fire with. Even if there was, the room had no real ventilation. A hot plate was found and hooked up and soon glowed cherry red, for however much good that did us. Hammer and Zinfandel promptly got around to half-heartedly arguing over which one of them would use it first.

At the prospect of imminent sleep, my body practically went into shutdown. Even the semblance of safety was enough to lull me to sleep on anything that wasn’t the floor. I just fell straight atop the old cushioning and made myself comfortable. They weren’t doing it loudly, so I didn’t feel the need to get up. I stayed awake long enough to eat some heated up beans out of a can and let my mind drift.

After a few minutes my dozing was interrupted by a pair of bodies snuggling up against my sides.

Back from the very verge of dreams, my mind recoiled and inhabited my senses once again. I raised my head to glare at the two of them.

“The fuck’re you two doing?” My right eyelid twitched a little in agitation. Being disrupted from sleep was one of the few things that could really make me cranky.

“You are just… so toasty!” Zinfandel said with an embarrassed smile as she wiggled herself in closer.

I looked over at Hammer with equal incredulity.

“What about you?”

“What? I ain’t cuddlin’ with no damn zebra. And yeah, you are pretty warm.” Partly because I was too tired to argue, and partly because yes, they did provide comfort, I didn’t press the point. With a sigh of defeat, I spread my wings and pulled the two closer with my feathers.

Admittedly, they were warm and allowed me the peace of mind to slip off to sleep.

***

Only about four hours went by, but the rest was necessary for the mind and body. My joints were a little stiff from being so exhausted and sleeping in my gear. The first thing I did was stretch my wings and pop my joints, leaning out like a cat and extending my talons to the fullest and working my way back.

An itch nagged at me and I felt the urge to preen some of my feathers. Yawning, I rooted about with my beak and found a sticky patch. Being so close I got a nostril full and suddenly felt much more wakeful. The scent was... frighteningly intimate and feminine. There was another clump of feathers that had a much thicker... ugh!

Immediately I looked between the two hoofed perpetrators lying innocently beside me and my imagination did the rest. I had a suspicion that their hooves would each smell of the others amorous pheromones.

Damn though, how hard had I been sleeping to not notice a pony and a zebra getting themselves off on top of me? Ah well, I'd just give them hell about it later. Maybe I would have been more aggravated if we hadn't been deep in the bowels of a military hospital fighting for our lives.

Perhaps I even understood them, giving in to the assurance of the warm touch of another.

Out in the wasteland, there had to be a reason for the birth rates to keep up with the fatalities occurred through raiders and radiation and innumerable other ways of horrible death. Without nearly every pony out there getting busy at every opportunity, how else could enough lives be brought into the world to replace the losses? The delayed release of various bunkers and Stables could only inject so much fresh blood. 57 only failed to open because of the proximity of the radiation given off by Ghoul City.

My stretching disturbed my companions and I gave them both a good shake and it served them right. Both played dumb to my questions regarding the mysterious stuff on my wings. Again resolving to needle them about it later, I took stock and braced myself for our next foray.

I checked my remaining weapons in forlorn resignation. I was completely out of .308 and had only one clip of incendiary shells for my APW. At least my fists didn't run out of ammo. Pistol clips and good knives were in decent supply at least. Hammer was down to his hooves and magic, me not wanting a repeat of the earlier incident. Zinfandel was low as well, even after recycling what empty magic cartridges she could.

It didn't leave much in the way of defense if the Flayer found us. There was no telling how much further or how many more bots and ghouls we'd have to go through to get free of this labyrinth. While Hammer and Zinny were busy doing their level best to pretend the other didn't exist, I decided to go scouting and hope nothing was waiting beyond our barricaded door to bite my head off.

Carefully, quietly, I opened the door and stepped back, ready for anything to come through. After waiting what I thought was long enough, I sneaked out into the hospital beyond. My padded feet and talons made so little noise compared to hooves I wondered how ponies or zebras were able to move silently at all.

Ghouls… Always with the fucking ghouls. Three of them milled about, unaware of my presence.

I raised my silenced ten millimeter and hit SATS with great relish. Queuing up one shot in the head for each, I let my system work its magic. Attacking from such a position of superiority, all three of their heads came apart like ripe melons. Nothing but a whisper and the sound of rotten brains splattering over the walls broke the quiet. Brass tinkled like raindrops.

It felt good to be the predator again. Being prey wasn’t a natural state for a griffin, and the Flayer’s continual lurking presence grated the wrong way against my feathers. I went back in and whispered the all-clear. We must have been getting close to an exit after all this time, some way out of this hellhole. Hammer and Zinny stuck close behind me as we ventured forth.

The zebra gasped, startling me a little. I turned to her…

And saw the Flayer holding her up by the nape of the neck, examining the mare. It was delicate in its touch, not even breaking her skin with its scalpel claws.

“Pretty zebra. You will make a fine addition.” Without even a glance to Hammer or I, the metal monster set off at a breakneck speed.

Oh Celestia. The scene was frozen for a moment, the sensation of standing there, useless as Zinfandel was torn away into the darkness to be left to the Flayer’s mercy. Just before I lost sight of them, the zebra’s scream echoed back.

The mare was doomed, lost to shrieking torture…

No, not while I yet lived.

Words did not pass between Hammer and I as we both ran after them. An unspoken connection was forged between the two of us for a little while, touching on our senses only enough to know where the other was. That’s what I suspect he felt at least based on how in tune our actions were.

We followed the fading screams. The Flayer wasn’t trying very hard to lose us, taking a pretty straight path to whatever lair awaited in the bowels of his domain. As fast as Hammer and I ran though, we were hopelessly outclassed in speed and local familiarity.

Memory reminded me of a similar chase and how it ended.

Once, we almost lost the trail, standing poised, frozen at an intersection of three branching hallways. The building had deteriorated around us steadily, the walls corroded and the bodies strung up in advanced stages of decay. Hardly any of the lights still worked, only a few ruddy emergency strips cast their glow on the path. Straining all my senses to the fullest, I tried to discern which way the demon had gone.

My muscles wound themselves taught as the seconds crawled by, primed for any trace. Seconds crept into a minute, and one minute climbed into several. Hammer Horn muttered sweet hopefuls into the stillness. A draft of air carried a unique stench, like metal and blood. That was how I chose which way to go and prayed to any god or goddess, dead or alive to be kind and merciful.

The light blue unicorn followed me without question, staking his faith in my instincts.

Because of the dull lighting, I didn’t see the pit until my claws and paws touched nothing but open space. The fall was long enough for me to get my wings open, but not so long as to flap them. Then I hit the water, with Hammer not even a second behind me.

My beak was open and I got a mouth full of the putrid sludge we had landed in. It was foul beyond imagining and I felt myself heaving and retching while submerged. The nausea threw off my equilibrium and suddenly there was no way to tell up from down. Cramping muscles prevented me from trying to rise to the surface. I clawed and kicked and tried to propel myself in the best approximation of up with what little oxygen I had.

Up until then I had not felt the cold, my body somehow generating enough heat to keep me comfortable where my companions had not been. I felt it then, in the icy pool. The arctic temperature of the sewage cut me to the bone. Never had I felt such paralyzing chill.

It stayed out of my eyes, and my goggles let me see towards the light. Too much gear weighted me down. I felt myself sinking down and touched the bottom with my back legs. Lungs burning, I tried to kick off as hard as I could for even one breath. My wings betrayed me, opening in reflex out of desire to go up; they only caught drag and kept me from the air. It was almost funny how close I was.

For an instant I believed death had come and would swallow me as I drowned, blackness eating my peripheral vision.

Then a pair of strong hooves lifted my head above the surface and I spit out a wad of sludge and vomit. The air was just as bad as the water, yet air it was and I gulped it down while clinging to my rescuer.

Thank Luna for you, Hammer.

With the unicorn’s help, I managed to get to an area shallow enough to stand with my beak just barely above the plane. Faculties slowly returning, I became aware of a kind of scratching, irritating sensation crawling in my fur and feathers. It was too dark to really see so I raised my PipBuck and angled the light.

The surface of the lake crawled with maggots. Decomposition heated the upper portion of the water and air enough to allow them fetid life.

Fat white grubs were everything, swimming, soaking in the decomposing soup. The water was colored reddish brown from all the biological waste thrown into it. Chunks of meat, bones, and entrails all floated along with their bloated worms. They were in my fur, under my barding, slithering slippery trails across my back and wings. The liquid left a thick filmy feeling on the parts of my body that had been dipped. Which was everything.

For a moment, my shock overcame my disgust and gag reflex. While Hammer lost the contents of his own stomach, I looked up and saw that the pool lapped against a shore of bodies. Some were hanging over the edge, partially submerged, and all were missing their skin. They formed a semi-circle around a patch of dirt and concrete.

There the Flayer had set up his workshop.

Two spotlights sliced through the darkness to shine on an angled slab to which Zinny was strapped. The mare was naked, crying openly, and tugging at her restraints weakly. Next to her was a tray full of pristinely kept scalpels and precision razors. The other light traced the figure of the Flayer itself. It stood so enshrined before what appeared to be a mixture between a throne of bone, and a chase lounge draped with blankets made of skin.

Outlined, but not directly illuminated was the rounded metal door of a vault.

The monster seemed to be debating whether to add Zinfandel’s hide to the lounging throne, or to its own coat.

With renewed vigor, I trudged through the muck and slurry of corruption until my wings we free and I lifted off. I grabbed hold of Hammer and helped drag him to the shore of bodies. Together we rose, him onto the bodies, and me into the air. The Flayer took no interest in the wet noises our struggles made. The disturbances were outside the light, and so were beneath notice. It stalked over to the bound mare, and loomed over her with a butcher’s grin.

Mentally reciting a silent prayer to the spirit of my pistol and its bullets, I emptied the magazine, the bullets stinging the Flayer while the casings plopped into the water. The steel demon hardly took notice. The ten millimeter did nothing, and it was too close to Zinfandel to use my APW, not with only incendiary shells.

It did notice when Hammer bulled straight into its reinforced ribcage with a roar, puncturing muscle with his horn and throwing the beast half a dozen feet with a full body toss. The Flayer recovered in an instant and backhanded the unicorn, beating the pony down into the congealed dirt. Before it could strike again, my magically aimed knife sunk into its shoulder socket.

The time it took for the Flayer to rip out the blade gave Hammer the opening to get up and move out of the way. Just as I was readying another throw, a glint of white caught my eye. Unbidden, my gaze rose to an I-beam jutting from the rough stone wall above the Flayer’s lair. And there I saw something impossible.

Zealot stood poised on the narrow metal beam, surveying the drama being played out before him like an angel of death. His battle saddle aimed down and unleashed deadly magical force. Three times he fired, puncturing hoof-sized holes into the demon.

Recognition hit me that his weapon was a gauss rifle, utilizing powerful coils to accelerate a small projectile to incredible speeds. Then of course, I realized that my brain was busy retrieving information on the book passage I had read about his gun rather than trying to figure out how he wasn’t dead.

Wasn’t I supposed to be the ghost?

Screeching and reeling, the Flayer was caught off-guard from the attack. Hammer again used the time to reposition, putting himself between the butcher and the prone zebra. His horn glowed around a metal rebar protruding from a pile of rubble and used the metal spar and the cement clump still attached at the end as a club. Fierceness shined in his eyes as he took a swinging stance and tossed his head, magically flinging the makeshift weapon.

The impact staggered the huge beast and we gave it no respite or quarter. From above I dive-bombed while the Flayer reeled.

“I will kill you! I will kill all of you!” The beast raged with the sound of jagged metal clashing together. At a full dive, combined with the accuracy of SATS, I sent a power fist careening into its lower jaw like a feather freight train.

I had tagged two attacks, so still in the grips of slowed time; I pivoted and skidded through the old bones, executing a pinpoint turn to rocket my other claw into the opposite side.

Then something strange happened. Stranger than Zealot coming back from the dead, stranger than battling the Flayer.

Sometimes I’ve found it takes a few heartbeats for the slowing effect of my PipBuck’s targeting spell to fully wear off. Rarely is this ever an inconvenience, it just happens. This instance however an unknown variable intruded in that interval time and seeming to bend the impossible, extended it.

A unicorn mare appeared from thin air, dark blue and tall. She wore a long, warm brown leather duster, sort of in the style of the Rust Town ponies that covered most of her. Heavier body armor was underneath, along with crisscrossing bandoliers of bullets. Her horn poked through a wide brimmed hat, blocking my view of her eyes. What I did see though, was her grin, and the huge revolver that floated in her magic. It was a work of art, the dark metal engraved with beautifully deadly designs. I had no idea what caliber it was, but my guess was big.

When she pointed it my way, I had the final though of at least being slain by a work of art, stuck fast as I was still by the time dilation. Five shots rippled the air…

The first caught the Flayer in the left socket and disappeared, extinguishing the acid green glow. The second impacted square on its forehead, ripping the flesh covering to shreds and deforming the metal on contact. The third tore of its already damaged jaw. The fourth achieved full penetration through the brow, while the fifth found mark through the cheek. A blackish ichor spewed from the nearly decapitated head and neck of the creature.

Still grinning, she blew away the smoke from the end of the revolver’s barrel, blew me a kiss, and vanished once more. Except for the appearance of Luna herself, nothing could have been more bizarre.

Time righted its natural flow and the moment passed. The Flayer fell, its one remaining eye rolling manically while it hissed and gurgled, attempting feebly to rise. Zealot landed on its back and started to wrench and pull at something at the base of its neck. Hammer and I backed away from its death throes.

The masked earth pony succeeded in yanking out whatever he was trying to extract with a shout of triumph. Finally, the Flayer, beast, metal demon of the Marauder Memorial Hospital, died. Its thrashing stopped and the light went out of its socket. Grasping what looked like a memory orb in both hooves; Zealot raised it above his head and laughed.

It was the laughter of revenge long sought after, and fulfilled. Beneath the resurrected pony, his mortal enemy lay vanquished. For a moment, I wasn’t sure whether we had killed the right monster.

Hammer dropped his makeshift weapon with a clatter and quickly attended to the bound zebra. He quickly undid the straps and looked her over for injury, then embraced her heartily. The concern he showed was touching as I watched them. Turning my gaze back to Zealot, I watched him chuckle a little more and dismount the corpse of the Flayer, playing with the large orb like a pretty bauble.

As the pony drew closer, I could see the hole in his armor and the blood still staining his mask and barding. Only rarely had I ever seen someone so happy. He was walking on clouds for sure. The orb dripped with a thick fluid thick with the Flayer’s brackish blood and the stench cut through even the charnel house around me. It was sharp and felt charged somehow.

“See how the mighty are fallen! Yes, yes, I knew I was right to count on you, Ghost. Superb work indeed. Couldn’t have done it without you, definitely. Now this,” He held up the slowly pulsing sphere, “is something that will make a fine addition to m’lady’s collection. Do you know what this is, Ghost? Do you have any idea how valuable, how powerful this little thing is? This is a miniaturized come to life megaspell.” The pony held it out for me between his front hooves.

Come to life megaspell? In miniature? Was such a thing possible?

“Take a look. I know you can.” Zealot knew exactly how to tempt me. I could see the darkness swirling in the green glow, knowing that it held secrets and knowledge. There was a pull, like magnetism, or perhaps gravity that started to draw my talon towards it.

Just one touch and I’d sink into that blackness. A growing part of me urged me on, a personal taint to my soul that craved the things the orb promised. The tip of my digit froze millimeters away from the sticky surface and a whispered glimpse was all I needed. To look into that, to see into the soul of the Flayer would be one step too many into madness. Perhaps there were secrets, but not ones to be gained without cost.

With great hesitation I drew away.

“I don’t think I want to.” Zealot made a noncommittal noise and put the orb into his pack. “But answer me this: How in hell are you still alive? I saw the Flayer impale you. You were dead, dead as could be.”

He just kept smiling.

“Not everything is as it seems, and I’m a lot tougher than I seem. Lady Nightmare bestows her own gifts as well. You provided me the perfect opportunity to take the monster by surprise, though I am impressed by the damage you did.” He nudged the steaming head.

“You mean you didn’t see the mare?” I knew that hadn’t been a vision.

Zealot frowned only slightly. “Mare? I saw no mare, only you delivering a deadly blow.” His good mood quickly returned. “Let us turn our attentions to other matters. I’m sure you’re curious as to what’s in this safe.” The earth pony turned, marched to the giant seal and flipped open a key panel.

With smoothness that belied its age, the vault opened.

While Zinfandel gathered her things with Hammer’s help I followed behind into the giant safe. I was interested to see what required so much security in a hospital. There were a few metal shelves, most of which were empty, and enough room for about four ponies to stand shoulder to shoulder. I did find a trio of ‘super’ healing potions according to my PipBuck and what seemed to be a packed away medical robot. The main attraction though, was the…

Briefcase?

Occupying the only used slot among a dozen was a simple black case with a pair of latches and a carrying handle. Tucked next to it, almost as an afterthought was a pale yellow memory orb. Zealot moved to case with a purpose, scooped it up, and put it in his bags, making sure to double tighten the straps against his body. He grabbed the yellow sphere almost as an afterthought.

“That’s it? That’s all we came here for? No hidden stash of super-virus or… or something to remove all the taint from the wasteland or something? No magical fix for all life’s problems, no ultra-piece of armor or some secret of why the world ended? What the fuck did we come all the way down here for?!” I’ll admit I was kind of pissed.

“Such a fanciful imagination you have, Ghost. No, this is a fully primed healing megaspell.”

Say what?

“Say what!” Hammer shouted behind me, having caught the tail end of the conversation. Zinny joined him in exclamations of disbelief.

“That.” I pointed derisively. “That little case is a healing megaspell?” Honestly, I expected some big mechanism painted with arcane unicorn glyphs. Or maybe just something a little more impressive. A simple case was just… boring. I could understand that it was possible, just not perhaps why.

“It’s simple really, after the initial debacle with healing megaspells, and megaspells in general for that matter, every agency in existence at the time called for a massive reduction in power output.” Wait, yes, I had read about that in my Megaspell Theory book. “When Fluttershy not only healed the friendly troops, but the enemy as well, a massive investigation was launched by the OIA.” Zealot paused.

“What do you know of the OIA?”

“I’ve heard the name before, but not what they did.” I answered as Zealot and I walked back out of the vault while Hammer and Zinny took their turn looking around the empty vessel. They immediately got into an argument over Hammer carrying the packaged medical bot.

“The Office of Inter-Ministry Affairs facilitated most of the major interactions between the six ministries. The highest ranking members of the OIA wielded great power and made it a business of theirs to gather the secrets of the kingdom. Some said they pulled the strings behind much of the war. It’s ironic to see what all that power, all those secrets got them. Even then, if the six Ministry Mares had come together as the element bearers they were, who knows what might have happened.”

“How does that tie to what Fluttershy did?” I asked.

“Well, Fluttershy conducted the final breakthrough research into megaspells with the intention of ending the war, with creating something that could stop the fighting with its power. But she did this research through her ties with the Ministry of Arcane Sciences as well as her own without the consent or knowledge of the OIA. Which was quite something, especially with all the rumors of her involvement with Goldenblood, the head of the OIA.

“The first use of the healing megaspell was something that shocked all who heard about it. Well, pretty soon the ponies in charge became rather resentful about being left out of the loop. So, a great restriction was placed on healing spells. From that day, none could ever hold such potency again. Fluttershy’s actions resulted in such severe backlash she never held the same control, even over her own Ministry, again.”

“And you know this how?” Asked Zinfandel with not a little venom in her tone. Zealot turned to the zebra.

“My Lady has gathered much knowledge in her time. It’s simply amazing what memories were left behind after the end of the war.”

“Now hold on, jus’ a second. All this is nice, but what about getting paid? Didn’t you promise us great rewards or something?” Hammer brought up a good point. There was a small bit of greed perhaps motivating him, and me as well. However, it all came down to going through the hell we had just survived for nothing other than a pat on the back pretty much.

“I agree. Old world drama doesn’t refill our guns or fill our stomachs.” We three all stared rather irritably at the agent.

“You’re right of course and are well within your right to ask for compensation. Here, this should cover any expenses incurred and then some.” Zealot reached into his bags with his mouth and pulled out what looked like a simple brick. He tossed it to the ground where it landed with sound akin to something deceptively heavy.

A corner of it caught in the light and I saw it to be no ordinary brick, but a bar of solid gold, stamped with the mark of the Equestria Treasury. All of us fell silent, staring at the bar. Zealot trotted over to the fallen Flayer and began to carve up the corpse. Something caught my attention when he disconnected the left arm with a loud pop.

The agent’s cutting through the artificial muscle had dislodged the rest of its flesh robes, revealing the slot at the base of the neck where Zealot had pulled the orb. There was a plaque of some sort beneath it. I got closer for a better look.

Delicately woven magical filigree lined the hemispherical slot where the soul of the Flayer had been housed. Beneath it, wrought in simple text was a metal placard that read: Property of the Ministry of Arcane Science. My examination of the remains was interrupted by another sickening squelch as Zealot finished with the arms and reached into the guts of the artificial life to pull a few more pieces out. The parts stuck lewdly out of his packs.

“Here, catch.” He casually flung the memory orb at me and out of reflex, I caught it.

Oh dammit.

I was in a unicorn mare… again. Anatomical anecdotes may have crept to mind if I hadn’t been immediately plunged into chaos. All around was the howling of the wounded. The receiving area of the hospital was somewhat recognizable. Ponies wearing combat armor poured in, some helping their injured fellows, and some coming in on stretchers.

Doctors in white coats moved this way and that with determination and speed, assessing need and severity of injury before moving on to the next. What fascinated me was the number of wounded. There were more ponies dying before my host’s eyes than lived in my Stable. There was a distinct scent tainting the air. It smelled of intestinal hemorrhaging and pain.

My pony seemed nonplussed at all the commotion and carried herself calmly and purposefully toward a yellow pegasus that was directing the efforts of the medical staff, seeing the most dire cases got first attention and making sure that the stream of casualties did not stall and block other from receiving care.

“Miss Fluttershy, there are many urgent calls that-“ My host started.

“That can wait, Noteworthy.” Responded the pink haired pegasus without a second glance.

So this was the illustrious Ministry Mare I had heard so much about. For a short time I had thought that maybe this was the direct memory of the pony, but it seemed only from the perspective of an observer. It was curious to see though, an individual so singularly determined to fulfill her task.

A soldier with a bandage around her head covering an eye and missing a back leg reached was rolled nearby on a gurney. She grabbed hold of Fluttershy with her two front legs as she passed.

“Why? Why did you do it? Why did you heal the zebras too? You saved me, my friends, we would have lived if you hadn’t saved them too. My friend didn’t have to die. Sprinkles didn’t have to die. You could have saved her. Why didn’t you save her?!” She started to scream and shake the yellow mare. A smart orderly jabbed a needle into the distraught soldier’s neck and the pony’s grip loosened enough to be pried off.

I watched, or rather my host, intently watched the ministry mare. There were very subtle signs that her mind was cracking under the pressure. To a pony who has dedicated themselves to life and healing, it’s necessary to be empathetic and kind. That is also their downfall. Fluttershy could try, or pretend to try that she was walling her emotions off from the blood and suffering around her. Her position and her nature would never allow it. Not completely.

“Well ma’am, I think miss Rainbow Dash-“ Again my host was cut short as Fluttershy turned as if stung. A strange look crossed her features, ambivalent in its joy and terror.

Ah, and here comes Rainbow Dash, leader of the Ministry of Awesome. She wasn’t too hard to distinguish with her chromatic mane. This one too I had only heard of. She was a fearsome sight, clad in battered armor with guns that made mentally drool seeing them.

And it was hard to miss her glare. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the pegasus could have killed with such a look. Clearly, it was meant for one and only one.

“Attention, Rainbow Dash, dragonslayer present!” Shouted one of the flyers that flanked her. I wasn’t sure if the disruption was entirely appropriate in a hospital trauma room, but the warriors seemed to take heart from her presence and everypony perked up a little. Those that could saluted.

Dragonslayer? Now that was a title even I could respect for a pegasus.

Rainbow Dash marched straight to the other Ministry Mare and stopped.

“We’re gonna have a talk later.” Fluttershy could only mumble something in return before the colorful pegasus pivoted smartly and walked back out of the hospital.

My host held her position, still watching to see what her superior would do. For a few moments she did indeed seem defeated, broken down by the admonishment of her friend. Fluttershy looked out on the dying and wounded around her and still coming in, and something changed in her. It was like an electric current ran down her spine.

"I must do better." The mare spoke softly.

She regained her determination somehow. I don’t know what did it, as I was not privy to her thoughts. Clearly though, something had occurred to her, something strengthened her resolve and she once more directed the bedlam around her.

A picture of the Ministries and their heads began to coalesce in my head, about who they really were. Based on their rank, I would have imagined their roles to be mostly superficial or bureaucratic at best. Such was not the case it seemed. The Ministries were the government, divided among six separate entities. I did lack the rather vital piece of knowledge as to how Luna used them.

However these ponies, these element bearers… they did not sit idly by. They took charge, directing the pursuits and priorities of their organizations. In Rainbow Dash’s case, she even took to the front lines. I had no doubt that every major technical, magical, and construction project involving the war could be traced back to the six.

Yes, if they had been such great friends, then surely the war had driven them apart, each doing what they thought was necessary. Necessity can be a bitch.

It seemed fitting that the memory was left with the vault holding the megaspells. While it wasn’t the direct recollection of Fluttershy herself, it showed why such great potential had been restrained. If that had been the aftermath of the first ever use of the megaspell, then it stood to reason that development into weaponizing it had followed shortly after.

And, then if that were the case, how could Fluttershy have reacted to such news? What does anyone do when they think the thing that will save the world ends up helping to annihilate it?

Such thoughts aside, I woke up propped against the slab that Zinny had been strapped to. Stiff, and with a serious cramp in my neck, I got up. My friends were quick to see if I was well.

“I’m okay.” I looked around. “Where did Zealot go?” Hammer answered.

“After you went into th’orb, he went over to that elevator there. Said to thank you again and that he would be waiting at the… uh…”

“The Ministry of Morale Station Seven.” Zinny finished. The elevator in question at that moment returned down to our level with a pleasant ding. At least he'd had the courtesy of sending it back down to us.

Celestia above did I need a shower of some sort. The gunk that was caked in my fur and feathers did not bear contemplation. I shuddered to think that there were even some maggots still writhing around beneath my barding. It was worse now that the gruel had dried and begun to chafe. Hammer's coat was filthy, having taken a dip too. Streaks of waste tinted his fur, and his light colored mane was crusted flat with scabbed over gore. He was dry, if nothing else.

Most of my possessions had escaped unscathed from the brine, though my pistol was in need of a good cleaning. I wanted to be angry at Zealot for all the caps we'd pretty much spent on this little expedition, but it was hard in the face of the gold bar now sitting heavily in my packs. The estimated value my PipBuck gave it was staggering.

Zinfandel was the least filthy, but the zebra had retreated into herself, pulling up the hood of her cloak and clutching at it tightly. Being taken by the Flayer had damaged her in ways that a healing potion couldn't fix. I didn’t like the way she flinched away from every little noise. We all needed a day or two to rest and come to terms with what we had seen. I know I did at least.

We all got into the elevator together and I pushed the button to get us the hell out of there. The last look I had was of the spotlights still shining down on the steaming corpse of the Flayer, his macabre throne, the open vault, and the skinless bodies edging the runoff pool before the door to the lift closed. No words really passed among us as we rose. There was really nothing to say, lost in our own thoughts.

Gears clanked and cables pulled restlessly, and we ascended. Even though it was probably safe, I still watched the doors of the elevator open with great suspicion. No ghouls or killer robots immediately set upon us, and it seemed we had been let out into a small vestibule with several other elevators. Connected to it was the lobby we had come in through what seemed like days ago.

Out we marched, scarred and yet alive.

Waiting next to the Workhorse was a very irate looking Iris Bloom and her four guards. I would have to ask Zealot later how he snuck past them carrying parts of a homicidal robot. Although she didn’t seem like she wanted to shoot us immediately, I could see her considering it. Rather than let her start pointing hooves, I took the same approach I did last time: That of an intrepid griffin old world enthusiast.

“Iris Bloom! My dear what a pleasure it is to see you again.” I said with a flourish, and then picked up one of her hooves to give it a refined kiss. Again, the mare was flustered at being treated to cordially.

“You were not where you said you were going to be, Mister Ghost. I do not like being lied to. I am here to retrieve the young master.” She challenged, glancing at Hammer and his less-than-apt appearance her tone hardened. I put an open talon to my chest in an affronted manner.

“The very suggestion I would do such a thing wounds me, my dear. It was my intention to head to our rendezvous post haste! Nay, it was merely delayed on the part of my expedition to the location you see before you.” I swept out a claw to indicate the hospital. I noticed some of the guards shifting nervously with the crucified trophies of the Flayer around them.

“A very worthwhile endeavor might I add. An expedition that would not have succeeded without the many skills and bravery of your charge.” I tried to give my best smile.

“This time, Custard is coming with us, or we will shoot you and take him. Do I make myself clear?” The seriousness of Iris’s tone made it clear to me she was serious. Pushing her further would only agitate the situation. I looked back to Zinfandel for a little support, but the zebra was as lost as I was with what to do.

A pair of ponies moved to either side of Hammer, or Custard, and began to march him forward. The group set off with him in the middle. The unicorn was speechless in shock. This was the last thing he had expected. I could only imagine if ponies from Stable 57 had found me and demanded my return to face justice. My mind raced, trying to think of some solution.

“Wait!” I called. Iris Bloom halted while the rest continued. “Ha-“ I caught myself. “Custard has proven himself to be a loyal retainer, and I would be remiss in my duties as his employer if I did not accompany you and appeal to his mother and father. Surely you would not object to that?” I added an extra little twist to my words, making sure that my proposal was the utmost example of reason.

For a moment, it seemed she would say no, damning Hammer to whatever fate awaited him with his family after working so hard to escape it. He still hadn’t told the whole story as to why, yet whatever that reason was, it was enough to petrify him. Hammer Horn had faced hordes of ghouls, ancient horrors without breaking. However the mere thought of his family was enough to paralyze the pony.

I would not abandon him to something that terrified him so.

A few agonizing moments later, the battle worn mare nodded in agreement. “I see no problem with you and the zebra accompanying us to see the master’s mother and father. Perhaps they will let him go with you, but my orders are to bring him back. It will be up to them where Custard goes from there.”

Nodding emphatically, I latched onto the words. “How blessed we are to be in the presence of reason! Such a refreshing turn of events from normal. I swear common sense is rarer than power armor in the wasteland.” Truthfully, I was being sarcastic and yet delivered it with such enthusiasm that a few of the guards turned to each other, unsure what to make of me.

Hammer perked up a little, realizing that all hope may not be lost. I quickly motioned for Zinny to get in the Workhorse and start it up. “We shall follow right behind you, c’mon Hammer.” I heaved my packs into the back and jumped into the passenger seat while hesitantly, our unicorn companion got into the back.

Iris Bloom eyed me somewhat suspiciously and made sure that her retainers surrounded our vehicle as the engine started with a roar. Zinfandel shifted the heavy transport into gear and all of us together set off. I thought about offering Iris a spot in the vehicle, but wanted some privacy to talk about what we were going to do next.

“Hey, Ghost, you know you don’t have to do this.” Hammer said with guilt, his ears drooping slightly.

“Oh shut up, hammer. Who else has a skull thick enough to use as a battering ram? Here, help me figure a way out of this mess. C’mon, we’ve been in worse situations. Like, I dunno, maybe an hour or two ago? Hmm?”

“Yeah, yeah! How hard can it be to fool my parents again, right?” Hammer smiled.

“Hammer.” Spoke Zinny with quite a rage underlying her use of his adopted name. Even I was a little scared at what she was about to say. “Tell me a joke you big lug. Before I change my mind.” Zinfandel kept her attention focused on the road while Hammer and I exchanged a look that spoke volumes before I felt a wide grin split my beak and a similar one on his muzzle.

“Okay, so, a manticore, a giant radscorpion, and a Hellhound walk into a bar…”

Letting the tension bleed out of me, I lit a cigarette and reached beneath the seat for my magazine of perverted pony pinups. After cracking open the cover I kicked up my paws and sat back to enjoy the ride.

Level Up.

Perk Gained: Arcane Stranger – You have your own personal guardian angel... armed with a fully loaded magnum and powerful magic. With this perk, the Arcane Stranger appears occasionally in S.A.T.S. mode to lend a helping hoof and horn, with deadly efficiency.

Author's Notes:

Okay, wow. It’s done. Finally. Holy shit. I feel true guilt at having delayed publishing this chapter! Believe me, between work, school, and spending time with my wife, I hardly have a few hours edgewise to write. That's not to mention the numerous file corruptions this chapter has suffered along the way. And Fimf losing the chapter twice. Once five minutes ago. (insert epic rage as I redo two hours of formatting (should have been posted at six o'clock))

I’d like to thank all of you who kept pestering me about it and giving me your support. You know who you are and it might not have gotten done without all of you. Also! If you see me online it’s probably just her reading on Fimf.

To all of you who have taken this journey with Ghost thus far, I hope you've enjoyed the ride. There's still so much more to go.