Fallout Equestria: Redemption
Author: Cooperdawg
Chapter 13: Turning Point
“And who are you, that I must bow so low?”

Another day, and another unfamiliar bed. Sometimes I missed the familiarity of a regular lifestyle. Not that I didn’t think what I was doing was necessary. In a way, I even enjoyed our work, knowing that I was making progress, despite appearances to the contrary. Now, saving ponies was the only thing that drove me forward. It was a large change in such a short time, but all that told me was that this was what I was supposed to be doing.

At the end of the day, I could say I was actually happy, far happier than I had been in years. I had a group of friends that were willing to do just about anything for me, and, shoot me for thinking it, but also a potential relationship that could offer me stability and security in this fucked-up world that we called home. Every day I saw evidence that ponykind had allowed this to happen to us. It was in the haze on the horizon, and the blasted lifelessness of the wasteland.

I could still see the pictures in my mind’s eye, from the small book I had treasured so long ago, before my life had gone so completely wrong. They were pictures of rolling green hills, and orchards that went on as far as the eye could see, every single tree laden down with fruit. And our leaders, the ones meant to deliver us to safety and ensure our protection, had wasted it all. Now all that was left was a broken shell, sometimes not even that. Civilization as we knew it had ceased to be, but from the fires of hell, something else had emerged, something that gave us an opportunity to build something better.

In a way, the apocalypse could be said to have saved us all. I knew that I valued the friendships I had more than anything else I had ever owned. Part of me, the cynical part that I tried to keep buried, told me that ponies had once considered friendship a given, and that they had forgotten the value of what a friend was.

And sometimes, taking away the safety and security of those preconceptions was the only way to teach us that everything good in life was to be valued, that even the smallest of kindnesses should not be overlooked. The bombs had ended a world in which ponies were expected to help their neighbors, then ushered in a world where the simple act of cutting a rope led to the belief that there was a debt to be paid. The words “It’s simply what a friend does,” had probably not been uttered in a very long time.

And that was why what I had was so special. In this world of greed, death, and misery, I had found a group of ponies, as different from each other as anyone possibly could be, that were willing to save lives because that was simply what decent ponies did. I couldn’t be prouder to know that they were my friends.

And to add something even better to all of this, I finally had my journal again. It had taken me a while to find a usable pencil, but ever since I had picked one up while wandering in Metro I had renewed my tradition of writing in it every time I got a chance. I had also started a new tradition of reading some of my earliest entries, and they all brought back images I had long since forgotten, like the morning so long ago my parents had woken me with a fresh meal, with real food. It had been the first time I had ever eaten real food, and now the memory of all of those tastes were coming back. It brought a smile to my face.

I pushed myself to my hooves and pulled on my saddlebags. Shooting Star had promised to speak with me before we left, and I intended to do just that. I had a few questions I still needed to ask, and I was willing to do whatever the DJ wanted to have them answered. At the end of the day, the wasteland ran on a barter economy, and information was one of the most valuable commodities in existence.

The mess hall was nearly empty, populated only by a few of the soldiers protecting the base, as well as Crosswire and Tinder Box. It seemed that the tech had found a kindred spirit in the scarred white mare as they had their weapons laid out on the table between them, discussing something about how to best clean and maintain the precise machinery that allowed the firearms to function.

They spared only the barest nods in my direction when I arrived before returning their focus to the discussion. I didn’t mind. All I wanted was a bite to eat.

A burly green Earth pony was standing behind a set of table that had been moved to form a sort of buffet. Laid out on them was a vast variety of food, from seemingly fresh sandwiches to the ubiquitous pre-war packaged food. There were even a few options for the carnivorously inclined. The buck was wearing a chef’s apron and had a ridiculous poofy white hat on top of his head.

“Ah, our Heroine of Seaddle!” the Earth pony boomed as I approached, “Tell me what I can treat you to? We have everything! Fresh produce imported all the way from the remote settlements of Baytown and Fresh Springs; Fresh meat from the hunters beyond Buckview; or, of course, the ever-so-popular pre-packaged food? You’re wish is my desire!”

I was taken aback by the enthusiasm in the buck’s voice. “I’ve never heard of Baytown or Fresh Springs,” I muttered as I perused the available food, “Where are they? And how the hell did you get their food all the way here?” Any town that was capable of producing its own food must be powerful indeed. They would need a way to protect their interests, since they would always be the target of raiders looking for a quick and easy meal. Even slavers would find the draw irresistible.

“To answer the second question, our main base has an arrangement with the two towns, and gets regular shipments. Any time soldiers are moving from here to our base, the replacements bring a few crates of fresh food with them. As for the first question, they are not well known, but we still have connections with some of the ponies that live there, thanks mostly to Shooting Star’s radio equipment. They are remote ponies and don’t really like the company of others, though they are willing to trade their surplus goods with us in exchange for weapons and ammunition,” the buck explained with a slow nod of his head, “They live beyond the mountains to the south, on the other side of the peninsula that we call home. If you look at the map on your Pipbuck there, I am sure you will see what I mean.”

I pulled up the map and zoomed out as far as it would allow me. Sure enough, I could make out the shape of the landmass on which Seaddle sat. It was a relatively thin strip of land, jutting out into the ocean from the main body of the continent. The mountain range I knew so well extended almost to the coast, with only a small strip of arable land available for any sort of farming, though I imagine they did a good job of protecting the land from the torrential downpours that were so common here.

“Huh, I didn’t know anypony lived that far south,” I mused, lowering my leg and looking at the buck, “Is the food they make any good?”

The buck laughed, a hearty sound that originated deep in his chest and practically shook the walls. “Good? It’s the best meal anywhere this side of Equestria. What few reports we can get from the homeland tell us that there is a group of ponies near the old city of Hoofington that might be able to produce fresh fruit and vegetables as well, but everything we hear from that region tells us that the land is sick, poisoned even. Seaddle was not targeted by nearly as many bombs on the Last Day. I will guarantee that our food is better!” He announced, pounding his chest in pride.

“Your food? Did you grow up there?” I asked pointedly, my gaze now wandering to the apples and carrots lying on the table. They looked healthy and juicy, and my mouth was watering just looking at them.

“Hah! You’re sharper than most!” the buck exclaimed, a wide smile splitting his face, “Indeed, I was born in Fresh Springs, and there was no better place to live. But, as with all safe and secure homes, life was dull. Mine was a spirit born to wander, and I did so from the day I earned my cutie mark! Didn’t stop until I fell in with the Captain. Decided that fighting to help the ponies of the Wasteland was better than wandering aimlessly.”

“Captain? Is he the one in charge of all of you?” I asked, reaching out and grabbing one of the ripe, green apples to inspect it more closely.

“Aye. Captain Rolling Thunder. Those of us here are only a small group, tasked to protect Shooting Star. The rest of us are safe and sound at the old military base to the west. There are enough of us there to protect ourselves, but not quite so many that we can really help the wasteland, at least not in the way the Captain wants to,” the buck said sadly, “That’s why we volunteered to come here. At least we can make a difference protecting the only sane voice to be heard by all ponies in this part of the world.”

“I might have to talk to this Captain at some point. He sounds like a useful pony to know, especially to someone in my profession,” I said, smiling as I took a bite of the apple. It was by far the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. Sweet, and at the same time tart, juice flowed into my mouth and down my chin. I was so used to food being bland, so old that it had lost all flavor, that I had almost forgotten food could have a taste.

My face must have shown my thoughts because the buck started to laugh again. “Ah, I love to see ponies eat real food for the first time, and discovering that food can be enjoyed, rather than just eaten for survival. And the Captain would love to meet you, Heroine.”

“Please, just call me Evergreen,” I finally managed to say, finding my voice again as I took another, much larger, bite.

“And I am Spring Bounty. If you do travel to Camp Resolve, tell the Captain I sent you. He will make you welcome! And please, take these for your travels. They’ll remind you of better things in the lifeless wastes we call home,” the massive buck said, giving me a bag full of fresh fruits and vegetables.

I immediately stashed the treasure in my saddlebags. My friends would be amazed at the taste of the fresh food. I’d share them for our meal when we got to Stable 113. I was already looking forward to it. “Thank you, Spring Bounty. Now, I need to go see Shooting Star. We’ve got a few things to discuss before we can leave.”

The buck nodded his acceptance as I turned and trotted out of the room, my spirits lifted to levels I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was amazing what effect a little bit of good food could have on the mind.

Within minutes, I was standing at the door of the DJ’s studio, and knocked.

“Come in,” his iconic voice answered immediately, still joyful and upbeat.

I pushed the door open and found the DJ standing at one of the many consoles in the room, typing something. “Give me just a moment. I won’t be long,” the Pegasus said, sparing me the briefest of looks over his shoulder.

He finished his work, typing a few last, seemingly decisive commands before shutting the console down and turning to face me. His face instantly lit up with joy when he recognized my face. “Ah, my Heroine, I was looking forward to seeing you this morning. I’ve been receiving reports from the Wasteland about last night’s show. Hearing your voice has given many ponies hope again. And I also learned something you might wish to know: Millberry has sent a caravan south, with the intention of traveling past Metro, and even past Grovedale. Would you happen to know why?”

I nodded, a smile spreading across my features at the knowledge that my work was coming to something. “I would. Part of the deal with Millberry was securing a water purifier or recycler for them. I found one in a Stable outside the Steel Ranger Outpost, and they agreed to give it to Millberry, since their bunker already has a purifier.”

“Ah, I see. Well, that is something worthy of telling as well. I’ll be sure to tell the city on the next show. I must say though, it is rare for me to get news like this right from the mouth of the mare responsible. It’s refreshing,” Shooting Star with a smile, “But I doubt you came up here to listen to me blather. What questions are still on your mind, my Heroine?”

“I thought I asked you to call me Evergreen, Shooting Star. I hate that title. I’m nopony’s hero. I’m just a mare trying to give them all a chance to live,” I complained, stepping past the DJ, a stormy look replacing my smile.

“I know, Heroine, but in my mind, you are one of the few with the strength to save us. If anything, your past makes you all the better for it,” the DJ answered, his hooves clopping on the ground as he turned with me.

“What!” I shouted, turning on him, my anger briefly getting the best of me before I tamped it down and locked it away in a corner of my mind. This buck did not deserve my anger, not after everything he had done. “How could you possibly think that?” I asked incredulously, once I was under better control of myself, “I made a living out of murdering other ponies. My followers routinely mutilated the corpses of our victims, and I did nothing to stop them! How the fuck does that make me better suited to save this fucking wasteland! I know of at least a half dozen ponies that want to put a bullet in my skull out of principle!”

Despite my tirade, the DJ still had that damned smile on his face, like he was in on some joke that the wasteland was still waiting to see. It was infuriating. All I wanted was to see this damn buck crack, to get angry, or sad, or disappointed, or something. He was too fucking happy.

“And that is why you are better suited. You know the price of failure, or the cost we will all pay if you give up. You understand what evils lie out there, and because of that, you know what you are fighting against,” he answered calmly, he façade completely unbroken.

“But I don’t!” I exclaimed, “Seahawk isn’t like the raiders or the slavers. They are unorganized, brutish, and largely stupid. The ponies loyal to him are anything but! He has the loyalty of killers like Greymane and Mareina, and the other mercenaries he commands are well-equipped and smart. Did you hear anything about my fight with them outside of Buckview?”

“No, I can’t say I have. You were the only one’s present in that fight that have had anything to say about it. I know of one other survivor, but he is well out of my reach right now,” Shooting Star answered, slowly shaking his head, “So tell me about the fight.”

I sighed, thinking back to the ruins of that town. Immediately the image of smoke rising into the chill air, fueled by the fire set into the corpses of the ponies that had called the town home came to mind. “The entire town was a wreck. Nothing taller than a single story was still standing. We were just making ready to head back towards Metro when they approached from the east. For all I know they were taking cover in the forest. Their leader was smart enough to know how to manipulate the leaders of the town, at least for a while. When they stopped cooperating, she knew enough to be able to overcome their defenses and burn everything to the ground. As far as I know, she only made one mistake.”

“And what mistake was that?” Shooting Star asked thoughtfully.

“Not listening to me when I said we were more than capable of killing her and avenging the innocent lives that she had taken,” I growled, “But the fight wasn’t easy. They had good combat armor, which meant that only headshots were a guaranteed kill, and their weapons were well maintained, not to mention military-grade. They knew what they were doing and how to do it. We were simply better.”

“But one of them survived,” Shooting Star pointed out, an amused tone in his voice.

“Yeah. Starshine, a Dashite from Stormfront. Steel Curtain knew him when they were both still in the Enclave. How’d you know?” I asked, turning to look out the window.

“Because you gave him a job to gather all the Dashites in the region, and I didn’t get this brand out of love for the legends of Rainbow Dash,” Shooting Star answered gravely. It was the first time I had heard him speak in anything but a joyful tone.

I turned to look at him, but he was facing away from me, looking at a small picture. In it was a young blue Pegasus with a striking resemblance to the DJ himself standing between another two Pegasi. One was a sand-colored stallion with a bold expression and a crew-cut brown mane, and the other was a dark blue mare with a flowing green mane. It didn’t take a genius to see that it was his family.

“Starshine came here?” I asked, stepping towards the DJ.

He replaced the picture and turned to face me, the smile returning. “He did, though I had to turn his offer down. I’m needed here. I’m afraid he’s received the same answer from most of the ponies he’s spoken with. Some have agreed to go with him, but many are not. I don’t think anyone really understands what the Enclave was hoping to accomplish with this little project of theirs, especially not anypony down here.”

“What do you mean? Steel Curtain told me about what they were doing. He said they were branding and exiling soldiers for small infringements,” I argued, “Why wouldn’t they want to band together and fight back?”

“Because Steel Curtain does not have all the information. He forgot to think about the possibility that some of those ponies volunteered,” Shooting Star explained, a severe expression on his face. He strode past me and stood by the window, looking out on the skyline. “I’ve fought the hard fight for this city for so long… And now the Enclave has found the one way to trip me up.”

The change in the Pegasus was surprising, and it made me uncomfortable. I had thought that I wanted to see him crack. But as much as his constant joy had annoyed me, it was truly unnerving to see him as anything but. Even worse, he seemed angry. “The biggest drawback of my work is that even the Enclave can pick up my broadcasts. In the beginning I wanted them to, until I realized that I was giving them information about everything that was down here, including the locations and strengths of all of the towns and settlements. To a military like theirs, every scrap of information is valuable.

When I realized that, I changed my approach, hiding specifics. Now, I never mention locations, or mention the strength of towns, except if they may need immediate help. I hide everything I can from them in an unceasing war of information. And now all that effort is for nothing!”

“What are you talking about? Why would ponies volunteer to be branded and exiled?” I asked, “It doesn’t make any sense. They’ll never be able to go back!”

“They don’t care. Their loyalty to their leaders is unwavering. The Enclave has finally found a way to get past my strategy. Mark my words, Evergreen, those ‘Dashites’ are just as loyal to the Enclave as any other soldier. They were sent for one purpose: spying on the towns and the ponies in them. Stormfront is preparing for something. I would bet every single holotape I own on that,” Shooting Star growled, turning back to face me, an ugly grimace twisting his features, “They took a truly personal choice and made it into something we must now all be suspicious of.”

“What do you suggest I do, then? I can’t just start killing Dashites on the chance that they might be allied with the Enclave,” I asked, my voice wavering a bit. I didn’t like this side of the DJ.

“No, you can’t. It would destroy your image. Chances are that whoever is in command ordered them to look and act like the other Dashites, so they will be nearly invisible, standing out only because they are Pegasi. Doubtless some of the soldiers were victims like your friend claims, exiled to hide the operatives. But that makes it worse. We can’t even use the time of their arrival as a way to judge. I’m still trying to decide how to report this to the Wasteland,” Shooting Star said, the grimace disappearing to be replaced with a sad expression as he turned his gaze to the microphone.

“Then don’t. It will only cause mass panic and more hatred towards Pegasi than what already exists. Let us handle it. If what you say is true, then Starshine will be close to finished with what I asked him to do. I’ll talk to him once he contacts me, and we’ll figure out what to do. I’ll think on the problem until then,” I answered, reaching out to put a supporting hoof on the DJs shoulder.

That simple gesture brought his sunny disposition back, and he jumped up, his smile returning, and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “This is why you are my Heroine! Even in the face of despair and adversity you have a plan! I’ll will watch and listen, and if I hear anything, you will learn of it. You know when my shows are. Every time you tune in, I’ll be sure to include something that may help you in some way. I need to be a bit careful how I give you the information, but it will be there. Now, I don’t think there is anything we can get from each other now, my Heroine, and the wasteland awaits your aid. Thank you for your presence and your kind words,” he exclaimed, finally releasing me from the crushing embrace and charging off to one of his consoles, probably to prepare for his next show.

“Of course, Shooting Star. Glad I could help,” I said awkwardly, making my way towards the door, “And good luck.”

“You will need it more than I, my Heroine. The wasteland is a better place now I have finally met you, and it will continue to be better as long as you live. Now go! Your journeys await!” The DJ announced, shooting me one last, beaming smile.

I smiled in return and retreated out the door, heading back downstairs to meet with my friends. This felt like it was going to be a good day, one of the few we had ever had.

We didn’t waste any time in gathering our things and leaving the radio station. Tinder Box was in the lead now, since she knew best where we needed to go. A small detachment of the ponies based at the station guided us as far as a few blocks out, to the limits of what they considered their territory.

From there, it was a simple, straightforward route through the city to the outskirts. Tinder told us that the Stable was housed in the basement of an old workshop, close enough to the city that it shouldn’t take us more than an hour or two hours to make it out there.

While we traveled, I considered how I would explain the problems that Shooting Star had presented. The scattered loyalties of the Dashites was a truly worrying problem, since a plan had been forming in my mind about how to possibly use them. Now, all of that was worthless. There were easily a few of those operatives that would join Starshine’s efforts, if only to get themselves closer to another source of information.

The more I learned about the problems plaguing this city, the more I realized how out of my depth I was. I was a single pony facing mercenaries willing to slaughter entire towns, killers capable of taking on four other, better equipped ponies, and winning, and governments that were throwing their own soldiers into the flame just to gain a minute edge. All I had on my side was my determination to do right and the support of my friends. I might as well have been a hare trying to fight back against an eagle.

The density of buildings was just starting to thin out when I decided that the rest of my friends needed to be aware of what was going on. Steel Curtain, in particular, since he was connected to what was happening. “Hey, everypony, hold up a second,” I announced, bringing us to a halt, “Let’s take a quick break. I need to explain some things that Shooting Star told me, but I’m not willing to let down our guard while traveling in the city. It concerns what our next moves are going to be in the next few days.”

“Oh? What did he tell you?” Steel Curtain asked, alighting next to me and taking a generous gulp from his canteen.

“It’s about Starshine, and the Dashites he’s been gathering,” I started, then proceeded with the rest of what the DJ had told me. I left nothing out, including telling them about the DJs own troubles with trying to keep information from the Enclave. I finally finished by telling them about my promise to do something about the problem once Starshine got into touch with us.

“Fuck, I should have realized the Enclave was smarter than we were giving them credit for,” Steel Curtain swore, stomping a hoof in anger and sending up a small cloud of dust.

“I can’t say I’m too surprised. An organized military like they have would not have a hard time coming up with a plan like this. All they would need is the permission to do it,” Crosswire said, “The question is what are we going to do about it?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, “But for now, we can’t trust any Dashite we meet unless they prove, beyond any doubt, that they are not still loyal to the Enclave.”

“Isn’t this going to cause problems with him?” Tinder Box asked, pointing a hoof at Steel Curtain, “Because you said he is a Dashite, but he still has the armor of an Enclave soldier.”

“It might,” I agreed with a contemplative nod, “but thankfully, most of the towns we deal with on a regular basis know him. The only problem we might have is with Millberry, and that is only if those Dashite’s that are loyal to the Enclave make their loyalties known. Hopefully, the fact that he’s traveling with me will set aside any doubts as well. Despite my hatred of the title, Shooting Star’s efforts are making me a known entity.”

“But how are we going to tell the Enclave ponies apart from the true Dashites?” Suture asked quietly, “I can’t imagine they’ll be going around simply announcing their true loyalty.”

“I agree. We need to think of some way to determine the real deal from the imposters,” Marcus put in thoughtfully, “Maybe a question about why they were exiled?”

“That wouldn’t work,” Steel Curtain snapped, “Evergreen already explained that a lot of the ponies that were exiled were young soldiers fully exiled on the grounds that they would screen the deployment of the undercover troops, many of whom are probably young enough to blend in. No matter which way we cut it, we’re caught in a fucking trap!”

“Not necessarily,” Autumn said, the first time she had spoken throughout the entire discussion, “The wasteland is full of Pegasi that have left the Enclave behind. We already know you, Starshine, and now Shooting Star as well. If we can find other experienced Dashites, like the ones that Starshine is gathering, then they should have some idea about how to differentiate between the two. I can’t imagine that the operatives will willingly slander their own leadership, regardless of how well they’re prepared. My guess is that they will hold to a few suitably hateful lines, but hold back from the truly harsh shit, like what we’ve heard from Steel Curtain.”

“That might work,” I stated with a nod in the young mare’s direction, “It’s definitely something to think about. But that’s all I wanted. Thought you all should know the situation. When Starshine finally contacts us, we need to have an idea of how to move forward. I hate walking into shit blind.”

“Thanks for sharing, Evergreen. It’s interesting, knowing a bit more about what’s going on,” Tinder said, nodding appreciatively at me, an odd half-smile on her face, “Now, shall we continue? We’re getting close.”

True to the scarred mare’s words, we were approaching the old, dilapidated workshop that supposedly housed Stable 113 after a rather short journey. It stood off to one side of a power distribution facility, most likely meant to house the machinery and tools needed to run and maintain the fragile, and now destroyed, components that once allowed the electricity be routed to the city and surrounding areas.

“You sure this is it?” Autumn grumbled as we pushed our way through a hole in the chain-link fence around the perimeter, “This place looks like a graveyard.”

“It’s supposed to. We didn’t want a giant sign over our home announcing to the wasteland ‘Look here! There’s a Stable!’” Tinder Box retorted.

She led us to the building and pushed the door open. Her shotgun slid down into a reachable position as she stepped through the door. I unconsciously readied myself for combat as well.

“Hey, Evergreen, do you really think you’re going to need everyone down there?” Marcus asked as we followed the white mare inside. His eyes were darting from the door to the sky, and his expression revealed how nervous he was. He was almost more jittery than Steel Curtain had been in Metro.

“Probably not. Why? You afraid of being underground?” I asked, turning to look at the griffin with a questioning look.

“Yeah. I can’t bear not being able to see the sky,” the griffin answered, his voice shaking, “I’ll keep watch out here, wait for you all to get back.”

“All right,” I answered, shrugging, “Steel Curtain, you want to stay topside as well? I know how much you hate going underground.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” the armored Pegasus said, the note of relief clear in his voice, “See you all when you get back.”

I nodded at the Pegasus and continued inside. The workshop was in tatters. What few horizontal surfaces were left were littered with debris and litter, ranging from empty bottles of Sparkle-Cola to various electronic scraps and scrap metal. In one corner, and ancient vending machine sat, its lights still flickering anemically. It didn’t look like anything could have been hidden here.

Nevertheless, Tinder Box made her way around the main counter and hit something underneath the register. From the far corner of the room came the sound of gears grinding loudly together, and an entire section of the floor rose up, split in half, then slid into slots in the floor specifically designed to hold them. What was left was a metal staircase leading underground.

Autumn Mist let out a low whistle as she approached the stairs. “Impressive. You lot keep it running?” she asked, looking back at Tinder Box.

“As well as they can. If that door were to ever seize up, either open or closed, the Stable would probably fall apart within the month. Despite their forced contact with the surface, those ponies aren’t ready to be a part of the Wasteland. It almost destroyed them the first time,” the scarred mare answered pensively as she walked up to the staircase and started on her way down, ”But on the other hoof, they can’t survive without periodic scavenging parties to dig up some old tech or food. They simply can’t sustain themselves alone.”

I followed after her as she led us down a short maintenance corridor that opened on a large room. One wall was dominated by the massive gear-shaped door of the Stable. The number 113 was pained in bold yellow letters on the front.

Next to the access panel was a small intercom unit. Tinder Box marched up to the device and activate it, then sat down to wait for a response. It took almost two minutes, but a frightened voice finally answered from the other side. “Who is this? What do you want with us?”

“It’s Tinder Box. I came back with a pony that the Overmare needs to meet. And don’t worry, I’m not with that damned gang anymore. These ponies are here to help us,” Tinder Box answered quickly and succinctly.

“Tinder Box? I thought you weren’t ever coming back?” the voice asked, finding a bit of strength in the familiarity.

“Didn’t think I’d have a chance. Now are you going to open the door?” the white mare asked shortly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course. Step back, and give me a moment,” the voice said. A few moments later, and a siren started up, followed by the now-familiar grinding of the Stable door being pulled open. On the far side, an emaciated yellow Earth pony buck stood waiting expectantly.

“So… who are your friends, Tinder?” he asked nervously. He was practically shaking in fear. I found it hard to believe that he would be the pony sent to watch the door.

“This is Evergreen,” Tinder Box answered, gesturing to me, then to each of my other friends in turn, “Her friends are Suture, Autumn Mist, and Crosswire. Another two are waiting topside. Now, care to bring us to the Overmare? We have a lot to talk about.”

“Uh… I need to clear you all with security first. We don’t allow weapons past the door,” the buck answered shakily, his eyes darting to each of us in turn, fixating on our weapons.

“Uh… I don’t think so,” Autumn growled, taking a step forward, “It’s my policy to hang on to my weapons at all times while inside a Stable. Things are way too fucking dangerous for my liking.”

“Dangerous? Our home is what has kept us safe for all these years!” the buck exclaimed, his tone hurt.

“And every one I’ve stepped in in the last three weeks has nearly killed me. I agree with Autumn Mist. We’re keeping our weapons. You have my word we won’t draw them unless we’re attacked first,” I argued, “Tinder Box was kind enough to guide me here because I helped her. I’ve come on behalf of a friend that was meant to take shelter in this Stable before the bombs fell.”

“Friend from before…” the buck trailed off, his expression confused, “How is that possible?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been outside?” Crosswire asked nonchalantly, “Well, here’s the quick version: The bombs did not kill everypony. A lot of ponies survived, but some of them were mutated by the radiation. Now, they are extremely long-lived, some of them having survived since the end of the war.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, nodding at the tech, “My friend is one of those ponies. She is the reason I’m here.”

“But… your weapons,” the buck protested.

“Are staying where they are. I already gave you my word that we wouldn’t use them. Now, can we please see your Overmare?” I asked, walking pointedly forward.

As I expected, the buck didn’t have the backbone to resist. He deflated, his head dropping to stare at the floor, then nodded weakly. “Ok. Follow me.” He turned around and led us out of the entrance and deeper in the Stable.

It was odd, seeing one of the things still in operational condition. The walls were clean and the lights shone brightly, casting a bright white glow over everything. Even with my suspicion of the place, it felt much more comfortable than I expected. But that didn’t stop the feeling that something was going to go seriously wrong every time I stepped around a corner.

During our walk we crossed the paths of several other ponies. All of them immediately shied away at the sight of us, running back to wherever they thought they would be safe. I couldn’t imagine why. We were following one of their own quietly, there shouldn’t have been a reason for their fear.

When we entered the atrium, it was full of ponies sitting together, laughing, talking, and simply enjoying themselves. As soon as we appeared, however, all sound ceased and every pair of eyes locked on to us. The atmosphere of comfort and happiness evaporated, leaving behind a bitter air of almost palpable fear and nervousness.

“Outsiders… What do they want with us?” somepony asked, the voice practically quaking with fear.

“Is that… Tinder Box with them? Why did she come back? I thought she was staying with that group topside?” another asked.

The fear and unease in the room was almost unbearable, and I couldn’t help but feel the need to say something. “I’m not your enemy,” I announced, looking from face to frightened face, “My name is Evergreen, and I am here keeping a promise to a friend of mine, a friend that knew the ponies that created Stable-Tec. In the Wasteland, I’ve made it my job to help ponies wherever I find them. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Why would this friend of yours want you to come all the way here?” somepony asked, pushing their way forward. It was a burly charcoal Earth pony buck with an auburn mane, “What does our Stable have that they could possibly want?”

“A message I found that was meant for her explained that she was meant to take cover in this Stable before the bombs fell. When I finally got the message to her a few days ago, she asked me to come here on her behalf, to see if anything had been left behind for her from the founders of the company,” I answered honestly, “I figured it was the least I could do for a pony that has seen so much heartbreak.”

“Hmph, sounds like a wild story if you ask me,” the buck snorted, “I may not know much about outside, but even I know the war ended two hundred years ago. Nopony could have lived that long. It’s impossible.”

“That’s ‘cause you’ve never met a ghoul,” Crosswire drawled. I could swear he was taking some perverse pleasure in throwing these ponies off guard with knowledge about the Wasteland.

“A what?” the buck asked, his gaze snapping to the grey unicorn.

“A ghoul. Picture a zombiepony, then imagine that it isn’t completely batshit insane and still knows who it is. That’s a ghoul. They survived the bombs, but the radiation made them into what they now are. Somehow, all that radiation made it possible for them to live for a hell of a long time,” Crosswire explained.

During the exchange, my eyes wandered, and eventually landed on the large circular window that overlooked the atrium. Standing in it, facing us, was a stern-looking mare. Her hide looked to be the color of rust, and her mane was bubble-gum pink. On her flank was a symbol of a gear. Her gaze was fixed on me, her eyes boring into my own. There was no doubt in my mind that she was the Overmare.

“Crosswire, drop it. The Overmare knows we’re here. Let’s get this over with and get back outside. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and I don’t like the idea of Steel Curtain and Marcus just sitting out there in the open any longer than they have to,” I ordered, walking past the tech and urging our guide to continue.

He did as I asked, leading us through the maze of passages, but not without a lot of confused and fearful gaze following us. After a short walk, we finally stood in front of the door to the Overmare’s office.

“Ummm… I’ll just leave you here then. Tinder knows the way out once you’re finished,” our guide murmured nervously, shifting from hoof to hoof, then disappeared back the way we had come.

Not wanting to drag things out any longer, I stepped up to the door and knocked. An imperious voice answered almost immediately. “Enter.”

I hit the mechanism to open the door, and it slid back into the ceiling. The room beyond looked exactly like every other Overmare’s office that I had stood in: Large, round, and with a massive wooden desk placed exactly in the center. The back wall was taken up by the mainframe that governed all the automatic functions of the Stable.

Seated at the desk was the stern mare I had seen from the atrium. Up close, I could see that her cutie mark was actually a Stable door, rather than a gear. “You’ve caused quite a stir,” she intoned from her desk, “And I do not like things upsetting the careful balance we have. Despite our forced contact with the surface, many of us are not prepared for the full immersion that it most likely required for our long-term survival. Your presence catalyzes changes I don’t think we are ready for.”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important,” I answered, stepping inside and coming to a stop across the desk from the mare, “But let me introduce myself. I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she interrupted me, “Shooting Star’s broadcasts do make it this far, and it doesn’t take a genius to know you’d be coming here on your way to wherever it is you go. So tell me: what do you want? Technology, supplies? I’ll tell you now, our supplies are already far more limited than I wish them to be. That gang she is with already took most of it.” The Overmare’s stare was now centered very precisely on Tinder Box.

An image of numerous shelves lined with medical supplies crossed my mind. Doubtless most of those supplies had come from this Stable. “I don’t want supplies. I want information,” I answered, setting a hoof on the desk and drawing the mare’s attention to myself. “A few days ago, I was in a bunker to the south of the city, up in the mountains. I met a pony there that survived the war. She was supposed to take shelter in the Stable, but never made it in time. We think the founders of Stable-Tec might have left something behind for her.”

“Survived? Who is this pony you’re talking about?” the Overmare asked, her grim façade giving way to confusion.

“Her name is Cheerilee. She was their teacher when they were still only fillies,” I said, watching the Overmare for any signs of recognition. To my surprise, she did perk up at the mention of the name.

“So she did survive…” she muttered under her breath, then she re-focused her gaze on me. It was much softer now. “She sent you here in the hopes that something was left for her?”

I nodded. “Yes. She no longer wants to go traipsing across the Wasteland, chasing rumors of what could be, but it’s what I’ve been doing for weeks.”

“I see. I do have something for you then. When I opened my sealed orders, handed down from the very first Overmare of this Stable, there was a message contained within, with orders that it was only to be opened by a mare named Cheerilee. That must be what they left behind,” the Overmare said thoughtfully, turning and walking towards the computer, “Come over here. I’ll download it onto your Pipbuck so you can bring it to her.”

I did as she asked, walking around the desk until I was standing beside her at the terminal, my left foreleg held up so she could interface it with the computer. “You’re trusting me at my word, just like that?” I asked, not sure that the mare was being straight with me.

“I am, for two reasons. The first is that the chances that you know that name are so small, you have to be telling the truth. The second is that I could honestly care less. The message has been a mystery to us, and one I am more than willing to part with,” the Over mare answered, grabbing my leg and hooking my Pipbuck up to the computer. Within moments she had accessed the files and downloaded the message. “I want a promise,” she said once she was finished, “You don’t listen to that message until you are with her. It was meant for her, and it will be opened only when she is there. Am I understood?”

“I promise,” I answered, nodding, “I know a thing or two about how meaningful messages like this can be, especially after hearing what was in the last one.”

“Good. Is there anything else you need from us?” the Overmare asked, returning to her seat.

“No. I came only for the message, though if you had any supplies for trade, I wouldn’t mind making a deal. We have extra weapons and ammunition we can give you in exchange,” I answered hopefully. In truth, the weapons we had salvaged from the gangers, both Skulls and Earth Marchers, were weighing us down. I wanted to get rid of them as quickly as possible, but they were too valuable to simply dump by the roadside.

“I suppose we could spare some food and medicine. Tinder Box knows where you can make the trades. Now, if that is all, I have a lot of work to do,” the Overmare stated as a way of dismissal.

We left the office, letting Tinder Box lead us through the passages to the small general shop. A few minutes of haggling later, and we left with a healthy supply of fresher food and medicine. From there, we started on our way outside. Again, ponies were watching us while we left, but they didn’t stop us. Many of them seemed happy to see us go.

Part of me wanted to stay and try to convince them that they wouldn’t be able to hide from the wasteland forever, but I knew that it wasn’t my place to interfere with their lives. Their Overmare was obviously capable and had a plan. Any interference from me would simply make things worse.

I sighed as the heavy steel door slid shut behind me. It felt like another opportunity lost, despite the fact that I knew there was nothing I could do to change it. We made our way up the stairs and into the workshop where Tinder Box took a moment to close the hatch again and kick some garbage over it to hide it somewhat.

“Fuck, I didn’t think I’d feel that out of place when I finally went back,” Tinder swore, her voice wavering slightly while she worked, “It’s hard to believe I was born down there.”

“Sometimes all a home can be is the place we’re from,” Autumn muttered, “I know that’s my case. My family just drifted from place to place until they were ultimately killed.”

“I suppose you’re right. So, Evergreen, what now? I did what you asked and brought you here. Now where do I stand?” Tinder Box asked, looking at me with a questioning gaze.

“You’ve been really helpful, Tinder, and I know you saved my life a couple of times in that fight down in the Metro tunnels. I don’t think anypony would complain if you were to join us, if you wanted. I know I could always use another ally on my side,” I answered hopefully.

A smile split the mare’s features as she looked at me. “Heh, you mean travel the wasteland, righting wrongs and killing any fuckers that get in our way? Yeah, I think I can do that. Thanks, Evergreen. Let’s hope I fit in better here than I did with Surplus.”

“I can’t imagine we’d have too much trouble. Now, come on. We’ve got a long way to go today still,” I answered with a smile as I opened the door and stepped out into the open.

The first thing that struck me was the sheer number of contacts on my E.F.S. They were everywhere, and most were red. Whatever had happened up here, it was bad. The entire workshop was completely surrounded! My thoughts immediately turned to Steel Curtain and Marcus, and what had become of them.

I received my answer moments later when I spotted Marcus pinning a de-armored Steel Curtain against the ground. His armor lay in a disassembled heap a short distance away. The light blue Pegasus jerked against the griffin as soon as he saw me exit, managing to free enough space to get his head free.

“Evergreen, RUN!” he shouted before the griffin wrestled him back to the ground and put him in a sleeper hold. The Pegasus was strong, but without the added power from his armor, the griffin was stronger.

I immediately drew Hammer and fired a round at the griffin, catching him in the shoulder and opening a flood of bright red blood from the wound. It knocked him back off of Steel Curtain, letting the Dashite get to his hooves and charge towards us.

“Evergreen, get the fuck out of here! It’s Mareina’s gang! Marcus has been with them this whole fucking time!” he shouted, running to me and shoving me to the side. His voice was hoarse and strained, unsurprising if he had been fighting against Marcus the entire time we were underground.

I moved with his push, starting to gallop as the bars on my E.F.S. started to move. There were so many of them…

“Stop them! Seahawk wants that bitch taken care of!” a shrill voice ordered.

I turned my head to see who was speaking, but that was exactly the wrong thing to do. The movement slowed me just enough for a pair of griffins in the air to line up their weapons. The bullets reached me just before the sound of the rifles did.

The first sliced into my right hind leg, piercing cleanly through the limb and cutting it out from under me, sending me tumbling to the ground, but not before the second impacted against my shoulder, tearing through the armor and imbedding itself in my flesh.

The pain was almost unbearable, feeling like white-hot pokers were being driven into my body. I screamed in agony, already feeling warm blood flowing from the wounds. When I finally came to a rest, I lifted my head as high as I could, looking ahead towards my friends. Part of me was praying that they were coming back for me, but I knew that it would be impossible. This was the end of the line for me. The future rested in their hooves now. Mareina had me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“GO! RUN!” I screamed through the red haze of pain, struggling weakly to get my legs under me, but my wounds put any option of supporting myself out of the question, “Get to Metro! Tell Mallet to prepare! Seahawk is making his move!”

Tinder Box, Autumn Mist, and Crosswire nodded and took off, but Suture and Steel Curtain hesitated, pausing as they considered going back for me. By then, it was too late. The two mercenaries that had shot me were already landing beside me, taking aim at my friends.

I may have been hurt, but I wasn’t helpless, I pulled my knife from its sheath and threw it at one of the mercenaries with a snap of my head. It imbedded itself in the griffin’s throat, bright red blood gushing out and staining the white feathers. The griffin collapsed, choking on its own blood and drawing the attention of his fellow to me.

Ahead, Steel Curtain and Suture were still watching me, conflicting emotions on their faces. The Pegasus, in particular, looked like he was about to break down. “Fucking go!” I screamed, putting every ounce of rage and pain into the words as I could. In the next instant, something hard cracked against my head and everything went black.

So this was death. Odd, since it felt exactly like every other shitty day with a hangover. Which made me think: I really did not want my afterlife to be with this kind of a headache. It was probably my price for killing so many ponies.

I sighed, hanging my head. I had tried my best, and it hadn’t been enough. In the end, I had trusted too freely, and it bit me in the ass. At least I had taken one of the bastards with me in the end. Maybe Marcus as well, the traitorous fuck, if I was lucky.

I lifted my head again, trying to get my bearings. If this was what my afterlife was, I might as well start figuring out where it was. Hopefully I wouldn’t be completely alone. It looked like I was right where I had been when I was killed, sitting outside the small workshop, blood staining the ground around me. Looking up, I gasped in shock.

The clouds were missing. Above them, something was very wrong. The sky was solid black, not even the soft blue-black that I had seen in pictures, but a deep, midnight black of the sort that no light would ever pierce. Unbidden, tears came to my eyes. I had spent so much of my life yearning to see the stars with my own eyes, and now, in death, they were mocking me. It just seemed so unfair.

I collapsed, crying softly to myself at the unfairness of it all. Not even the knowledge that my life had bought the lives of my friends was enough to soothe the feeling of betrayal. I stayed like that for what felt like hours, but what did time matter to me anymore? I had an endless amount of it.

“So now you see where this policy of trust got you, dearest Evergreen,” a familiar voice proclaimed, interrupting my thoughts, “You’re cut off, injured, and much closer to death than you have ever been, and what do you have to show for it? A hoofful of grateful, cowardly ponies and a small collection of so-called friends that will fall apart now that you’re no longer around to hold them together?”

I lifted my head, looking for the source of the voice. I already knew what it belonged to, but I couldn’t believe it. I was dead, I had to be. “Where are you?” I growled, forcing myself back to my hooves and wiping my eyes, “Can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Now why would I ever do that? You are far too much fun,” the voice laughed. It obviously thought that it was back in control again, “No, Evergreen. Now, there is nopony left to protect you. You’re mine, and you will stay that way.”

It materialized from the shadows, its emaciated form fitting in all too well with our dark surroundings. Its eyes glowed red in the dim light, lending it an otherworldly appearance. I turned my body to face it, lowering myself. I knew it was strong and fast, but I didn’t have anything left to lose, and I was not going to simply let it beat me.

“No, I’m not. I’ve never been yours, and I won’t let you twist me like you did before. I hurt them far more than they ever deserved, and they still forgave me!” I yelled in defiance.

“Because they are fools, just like you!” it exclaimed, stepping forward. I could see the hunger in its eyes. It wanted me, badly, and would stop at nothing to get what it wanted. Despite all of its strength and power, it was awfully single-minded and could think of nothing else other than its goal. There, at least, was my advantage.

“Fools that are willing to trust a pony as fucked up as I am! They deserve my loyalty, if only for that reason! It’s more than I deserve, but they don’t care!” I growled.

“And it will be the end of them,” the creature hissed, grinning widely as it approached me. The expression didn’t fit on its face. It made the thing appear crazed.

“No, it won’t. Unlike most, I know they also believe in what we are fighting for. Even if they don’t stay together, they’ll continue the fight. They might even try to come back for me.”

“Do you really think that’s going to happen? What’s in it for them? They just saw you, their driving force, fall, like any other failure in the wasteland!” the creature shrieked.

“They’ll come back for me, because they know I’m still alive, and more than that, Steel Curtain loves me. He won’t just give up, no matter how many times I yell at him to,” I answered, finally admitting to myself the truth of what I had seen in him for the last days. The harder part would be admitting to myself what I felt.

The creature laughed, a harsh, raucous sound that hurt my ears. “Love! You think love means anything in this world? Look around you, Evergreen, and tell me what love has done for this place!”

“I have looked,” I snapped, “And I have seen the beauty in the Wasteland, that is all the more precious for how rare it is. I’ve seen ponies on the edge of death ask first about their friends and colleagues before asking for help. I’ve seen parents willing to start a fight simply to protect their child. I’ve seen a Pegasus risk his very life, simply because of his love for the Wasteland. And above all of that, I’ve met five ponies kind enough to trust a pony that is good at nothing more than taking the lives of others.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts. Already, I could see the look of doubt on the creature’s face. For the second time, I had put it off guard. It was used to me floundering about with weak answers, or with no answers at all. It had no clue how to deal with me when I knew exactly what I wanted. “And I have found something more worth fighting for, beyond just the future of the wasteland. I’d die for them, for all of them, because they’d do the same for me. In the world we live in, nothing else could possible mean more. Even more, I love him too.”

There, I had said it. Call me crazy for admitting something like that when I still couldn’t decide if I was capable of taking so many lives, but I couldn’t just sit here and pretend my feelings didn’t exist. It wouldn’t be easy, but hopefully it would work.

The creature laughed again, but now its laugh was hollow. “You’ve got to be kidding. Do you really think that will help you here? He has no power over me. Nopony does!”

“I do,” I growled, and leapt.

It shrieked in rage and side-stepped. I landed next to it, but couldn’t turn in time before it tackled me, bearing me to the ground and pinning me beneath its bulk. It lashed out with its hooves, battering my body until I was curled up, simply trying to protect my head.

After what seemed like forever, the barrage ended and the creature backed off, letting me move out from underneath it. I crawled away and turned my head to face it.

On its face was an odd grin, like it knew a joke I could only guess at. “Oh, this is too rich. You know, my Evergreen, I’m going to let you go, this one time. The next time we speak, you will be begging me to take you back.” Its grin widened into a smile and it faded away into the shadows, leaving me confused.

The next moment, the darkness from the sky descended, wrapping me in its embrace and carrying my consciousness away, like some great tide sweeping me away.

As I slowly came to, I realized that my wounds had already been cleaned and treated. For whatever the reason, it didn’t seem like these mercenaries wanted me dead. Next, I became aware of the fact that my armor, saddlebags, and weapons were gone. My Pipbuck was still on my leg, probably because it was almost impossible to remove the things without the right tools.

Finally, I became aware of the shackles around my hooves, binding them together with chains that were just slack enough to allow me to walk. I shifted my legs, testing my mobility. The chains rattled loudly against each other, drawing the attention of someone nearby.

“Hey, boss, she’s waking up!” they shouted, the voice harsh and raucous. Then, there was the sound of movement as someone settled down next to me.

“You have me to thank for being alive, Evergreen. Consider it my thanks for making my job so easy,” a familiar voice sneered in my ear, “Oh, and for the fresh food as well. It may not be meat, but it’s a welcome change from the same old shit we get every day.”

I twisted my head, trying to see the source of the voice and was met with Marcus’s face. It was drawn and pale, probably due to the amount of blood he had lost from my shot, but it looked like his injury had already been well taken care of. His expression was conceited, and he had a grin that made me want to smash his beak into the rest of his face. “Fucking traitor,” I growled, twisting my entire body in an attempt to get my hooves underneath me, “I’ll kill you for this!”

“Good luck with that. You’re finished, Evergreen. Done. Your little movement dies here. Without you to push them forward, that merry little band of yours will collapse under its own weight within days,” the griffin laughed.

The furthest thing from my mind now was morality, and I wanted to kill this feather-brained fucker. The bastard had betrayed us. I saved his life, and he had betrayed us. I could forgive a lot of shit, but this was too far. I strained against my bonds, finally managing to prop myself up. “They’re stronger than they look,” I snarled, “And they believe in what we were doing at least as much as I did. But the one question I have is why? You saw what we’re fighting against, and you still betrayed us! You helped us, even! I saved you!”

That last comment elicited another round of raucous laughter, which was echoed by a number of griffins now watching the exchange. “You really think you saved me?” Marcus laughed, “You truly believed I was some naïve idiot that got caught by some good-for-nothing gangers? Here’s a newsflash for you: We paid them to hold me until you got there. We knew they were all going to end up dead, ‘cause that’s the way you work. When that idiotic sniper of your found the caps we used to pay them, I thought you’d see right through the scheme. Lucky for me you’re just another stupid wastelander that thinks trust can save the day.”

I forced myself to stand, my rage burning deep in my chest, and lunged at the griffin. Something stopped me in mid-air, swiping me away from my target and throwing me to the ground. The air was forced from my lungs and a spike of pain drove into my wounded shoulder as I landed on it.

“That’s enough of that,” an imperious voice proclaimed. The owner of the voice landed beside me, standing over me in a stance that communicated absolute victory, “If you can’t play nice, Evergreen, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

She was a large griffin. The feathers on her head and neck were a tawny brown, blending perfectly into the golden yellow of the fur that covered the rest of her body. She wore an ancient duster, not unlike the one Marcus had been wearing, except hers was worn overtop a set of olive green, military grade combat armor. I doubted I’d ever discover where she had managed to find a set in the Wasteland that was fitted for a griffin. Perched atop her head were a pair of goggles, the straps so covered in dust and grime I couldn’t even begin to imagine what color they had originally been.

Her yellow eyes, with their vertically slit feline pupils, were lit up with humor, and the skin around her beak was crinkled with what I could only imagine was meant to be a smile. All it appeared as to me, however, was a slight parting of that raptorial beak which was easily capable of shredding flesh.

That was the main difference between griffins and ponies. In the harshness of the Wasteland, some ponies chose to start eating meat, if only because it was easily available, but we weren’t carnivorous by nature. Griffins were, and they reveled in the hunt and the kill. It was probably one of the many reasons they made such skilled mercenaries and assassins.

A jagged scar ran across one side of her face and down her neck to end on her shoulder, appearing as if some giant creature had dragged a claw down her face, and the feathers had grown back only patchily to cover it up.

Strapped across her back was a military assault rifle, not unlike the ones I had seen being used by the ponies at Shooting Star’s radio station. In a holster under her duster, I could also make out the sleek body of a plasma pistol. Energy weapons were rare in this city. The fact that she had one was a testament to her resourcefulness.

“Mareina,” I growled at the griffin, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Obviously not enough, Evergreen, otherwise this would have been avoided, and your life wouldn’t be over. You had your chance to back off, but you just had to keep going, didn’t you? Never stopped to think about how it could end?” she asked gleefully, a sadistic grin splitting that beak even farther, giving me a clear view her long, thin pink tongue and the dark chasm of her throat. I could easily picture her capturing and killing a pony to eat.

“You’re a mercenary. Why the hell are you fighting for Seahawk? What do you possibly hope to gain by helping him enslave the entire fucking Wasteland?” I growled, forcing myself back to my hooves and doing my best to ignore her jibes.

“Two reasons. The first is that Seahawk has the deepest pockets, and I only work for the best. Second: I’m getting sick of this life, always worrying about my next meal, or if our water will last for the next week. What Seahawk plans to do is bring the entire Wasteland together, under a single banner. Then, all of our needs will be taken care of, and we will be able to live in harmony once again,” Mareina explained casually, examining the talons on one of her hands.

“Really? That’s your reason?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her, “Forcing these towns to cooperate won’t solve anything, and even if they start working together, that doesn’t carry a guarantee of solving the resource shortages. Metro has been rationing their supplies carefully, and Millberry has been in desperate need of a water purifier for a long time. Do you really think the fact that they would all be listening to the same egotistical tyrant will solve anything?”

“It has to be better than what we already have,” Mareina answered, shrugging, “But all the same, there’s nothing more you can do about it. You’re mine, to do with as I please, and I think I know of a few offers that will set me up nicely.”

I didn’t want to know what she was talking about, but I was getting the feeling that she didn’t mean to kill me, and that was a terrifying thought. There were two constants in the wasteland for when a pony was captured after a fight. The first was that they ended up dead. The second was getting sold to slavers.

“Why? Why not just kill me?” I asked, striding forward, but I was stopped short by Marcus who stepped in front of me to halt my progress with a stance that clearly indicated his willingness to hurt me if I did anything stupid.

“Because I don’t profit from your death,” Mareina answered, that grin returning to her face, “Killing is Greymane’s style. The over-zealous bastard hates the idea of leaving an enemy alive, and I can’t blame him. But the Mill is impossible to escape. That is a fact that has been proven a hundred times over.”

Now her intent was clear. She was going to sell me to the Mill, and there was no doubt in my mind that they knew exactly who I was. I had already interrupted several of their caravans and killed a lot of their muscle and suppliers. Going there might as well have been a death sentence for me, except for one problem. The words I had spoken to that terrified buck we had freed rang in my ears again. Slavers wouldn’t kill a pony if they stood to profit from that pony’s life in some way.

The slavers would keep me alive, but they were going to give me the worst jobs, either the most dangerous, the most humiliating, or both. If I couldn’t get free soon, there was no way I was going to be able to prevent that.

Mareina was watching me, probably trying to gauge my reaction, and judging from that damn grin on her face, she was getting exactly what she wanted. I couldn’t deny that I was terrified, but fear had never managed to paralyze me. If anything, it made me unpredictable.

With a shout, I leapt forward, intending to strangle the bitch with my chains, or, failing that, inflict as much damage as I could before one of them killed me. I had already resigned myself to death, and anything would be better than becoming a slave.

I had badly underestimated her strength and speed, and being shackled wasn’t helping me at all. She neatly sidestepped my attack, the grin never fading from her face, and lashed out with a taloned hand. The claws slashed across my side, drawing deep furrows in the flesh. Slick, warm blood immediately started to flow, but I managed to stay on me hooves.

I turned to face her, panting heavily, and leapt again. This time, she stood her ground, rearing up on her hind legs and taking my charge in her chest. My injured shoulder impacted against the solid ceramic of her armor. It felt like I had run face first into a wall as I stopped short, the griffin not even budging an inch.

She laughed, an almost maniacal sound as she grappled with me, using the chains around my legs to pin them against my sides as she slammed me against the ground, driving the breath from my lungs, then pulled back with a fist. “And this is why you don’t fight me,” she said, grinning, and brought the fist down.

My vision exploded in stars as I blacked out for a second time.

When I finally regained consciousness, night had fallen. My hooves were bound even tighter now, making it almost impossible to move, much less stand. When I opened my eyes, the only thing I could see was a firepit about ten feet away. The glare from the flames drowned out anything else I might have possibly been able to see.

I was lying uncomfortably on my side, with a rock digging painfully into me. I shifted, trying to move off of it, but all I succeeded in doing was moving it to press against a bandage covering one of the claw wounds left behind by my fight with Mareina. I couldn’t help but to cry out in pain, which drew the attention of everyone around me.

“Hey, the bitch is waking up again. Good thing the boss ain’t around. I still need to pay her back for killing Kierst,” a harsh voice said, the voice holding a promise of sadistic things to follow.

“Stand down, mercenary. Mareina left orders that she was to be unharmed unless she tried attacking somepony, and you are going to follow those orders,” an eerily familiar voice responded. The voice was cold, so much so that I felt shivers run down my spine.

The sound of hooves clopping against stone echoed around me as the owner of the voice walked around so I could see him. The stallion that came into view had a red hide and a grey mane. For the second time in my life, I was facing down Greymane, and he hadn’t changed at all since the last time we had met.

“I have to admit, Evergreen, you surprise me. I told Mareina that her little trick wouldn’t get you, that you were far too perceptive a pony to fall for it. It isn’t often I’m proven wrong,” he mused, his cold voice at odds with the amused grin on his face.

“I had my reservations about Marcus, but he seemed to be playing me straight,” I growled, “I’m not the kind of pony to simply question someone else on sight. I learned the hard way that sometimes you have to take somepony else at their word.”

“Exactly the wrong lesson to learn, in my experience. The only pony I’ve ever been able to trust explicitly was Seahawk. Now you see how your chosen path was never fated to succeed. Trusting in others always leads here,” Greymane stated nonchalantly.

“Leads where, Greymane? To me lying on the ground, shackled and about to be shipped off to the Mill, or to you, standing there surrounded by allies, but with not a single pony you can rely on in your entire life?” I asked pointedly, getting a small amount of satisfaction from the buck’s doubtful expression.

He recovered quickly, his stoic expression returning, and grinned. “I’d rather be the hated mercenary that is free and alive than the beloved Heroine chained and shackled, whose fate only holds death in store,” he answered.

“But when you die, Greymane, will you be able to say that your life was worth something? If you were lying on the ground, bleeding out, would somepony risk themselves to try to save you?” I pressed, putting as much conviction into the words as I could.

The red buck hesitated, his gaze briefly dropping to his hooves before he raised his head and looked me straight in the eye. “The life of the mercenary is a lonely one by definition. When I die, it will be because somepony was stronger than me, or faster than me. When we met in the Ironshod Firearms factory, I thought for a moment it might have been you. Now, I see differently. You are just another wastelander that failed where so many others have as well.”

“I haven’t failed yet. And you didn’t answer my question,” I stated, “Is there somepony out there that would risk their life to save you?”

“Of course not. Ponies like that don’t exist anymore. They all died with the end of the Old Equestria,” Greymane said with a toss of his head.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I had to convince my friends to leave me behind, and even then, they hesitated. Steel Curtain would have killed himself if it meant saving me,” I said, glaring into the mercenary’s eyes, “They were all willing to throw themselves into danger for me, and that isn’t something you can command through fear, Greymane.”

He snorted, sneering at me. “Pretend that your life is worth something all you like, Evergreen. At the end of the day, you are the slave and I am free.” With that, he turned and trotted off, leaving me to my thoughts.

I didn’t like my prospects. I had tried to make them kill me, and all it had accomplished was some fresh wounds and a bruised ego, but at least I had seen for myself just how vicious and strong Mareina was. Now, I had tried to reason with the pony that was possibly my greatest enemy, but his head was so far in the clouds that he simply dismissed everything I had to say.

Being a slave was bad, but it wasn’t the end of the world. I would survive, because I knew how to. I had the knowledge that my friends were out there, trying to help me, and that they cared for me. I knew that out there was the stallion that loved me, and that I loved in return. Nopony, not even Greymane, could take that away from me.

The night grew chill, and not even the warmth from the nearby fire was enough to drive the cold from my bones. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been forced to sleep outside. It was easily long before I had ever become a raider. My only solace was that the pair of griffins tasked with watching me were forced to suffer with me.

At one point in the night, they were replaced, and one of the replacements was no other than Marcus. He was looking a lot healthier, but the easy-going and friendly expression I was used to seeing from him was gone, replaced with the same mean glint in his eye and the superior set of his ears that I had seen in every other griffin in the camp. When it came down to it, he was no different than any of them, except for the fact that I knew him.

“Come to gloat some more, Marcus?” I asked angrily, not expecting an answer, “Leading my around by the mane wasn’t enough for you? Need to rub my face in the mud a bit more?”

“Actually no, Evergreen,” the griffin responded haughtily, “It’s just my turn to guard the merchandise. Slavers from the Mill will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up, and it’s my job to make sure you’re still here for them by then. Not that I expect you to be able to get away.”

The silence grew between us after that last. There wasn’t really anything else to say on the subject. “Why didn’t you just let them kill me?” I finally asked, “It would have made everything easier.”

Marcus shrugged, a gesture that was almost invisible through his duster. “Because I remember my mother teaching me that being alive in any fashion is better than being dead, and I felt like owed you,” He stated, though the cruel tone was gone from his voice.

“Owed me for what? ‘Making your job easy’?” I sneered, “Wasn’t exactly the fucking intention.”

To my surprise, the griffin sighed, “That, and because you actually thought I was on your side and treated me the same as everyone else in that little group of yours. You gave your all to everyone, and only expected the same in return. It was… different than what I’m used to here, and it was a refreshing experience. That’s why I owe you. I don’t expect you to understand. In the end, I thought you deserved to survive for a bit longer. Who knows, maybe by the time Seahawk has everything under control, the Mill included, you’ll still be alive. Then, I’m sure he’ll have a place for you. Can’t really say for sure, though. Only Mareina and Greymane have ever met him in person.”

“Great, my one hope at life is that the bastard I am actively trying to stop will pardon me when he’s finally won. You do realize I’m about the only pony out here with the influence to get anything done, right?” I demanded. I no longer cared about who I was speaking to, or that my words would undoubtedly reach the fucker. I just needed to vent.

“And that’s why you’re here. Mareina said the order to take you in came straight from Seahawk. Seams you pissed him off somehow. Not the brightest thing to do,” Marcus answered, grinning.

“At least I was trying to do something good,” I answered sullenly, “How many ponies are there that can claim the same?”

“Not many, true. But then, most ponies know better than to throw their lives away on a worthless cause,” Marcus answered with another shrug, then fell silent.

I let the silence grow, wondering to myself if what I had been doing was truly worthless. No matter which way I looked at it, however, could I find a reason that fighting for pony’s freedom wasn’t a good thing. What Seahawk wanted just seemed far too similar to slavery.

Before long, dawn was breaking, and the sky began to lighten somewhat as the sun rose beyond the unyielding ceiling of clouds. My future as a slave was only hours away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. To make matters worse, it began to rain, and it wasn’t a light drizzle, either. It was a total downpour of the sort that soaked me completely to the bone.

It was probably around six in the morning when the slavers appeared, escorted by Mareina. The slavers were a pair of unicorns. The first was a light green stallion wearing dirty red barding. His matching red mane was scraggly and unkempt, and his teeth were yellowed. His partner, a purple unicorn with a two-tone blue mane, was much better put together, but she had the sort of expression that told me immediately that she was vicious and cruel. What really caught my eye, however, was the Pipbuck on the mare’s leg.

“Here she is, Shackle. Her name’s Evergreen. I imagine Eulogy really wants to get his hooves on her, considering what she’s been doing to his business,” Mareina announced, gesturing to me as they approached.

“He did say something about a special bounty to go to the pony that grabbed her for us,” the stallion confirmed, “I think it was somewhere in the neighborhood of four thousand caps, opposed to the usual five hundred for a good slave. Though I have to say, she doesn’t look like much.”

“That would be agreeable,” Mareina answered with a nod, her beak splitting in a grin, “And she may not look like much, but she’s smarter than she looks.”

“You’re going to want to watch her carefully, as well,” Greymane announced, appearing from somewhere out of my line of sight, “She’s got a resourceful streak a mile long, and can be vicious as hell if she gets in a fight.”

“As we expected, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to kill our forces,” the mare answered. Her voice was soft and delicate, but there were undertones to it that I had only ever heard coming from the truly fucked-up raiders, the ones that found joy in making their victims suffer. It was the kind of voice that terrified me.

“And we’re always prepared for the trouble makers. Volt, fit her with one of the special collars, and make sure it’s on a different frequency from the rest. We wouldn’t want any accidents,” Shackle ordered.

“Of course,” the mare, Volt, answered with a short nod as she strode forward, her horn illuminated with magic as it drew a collar out from her saddlebags. Unlike every other slave collar I had ever seen, this one did not have a smooth inside. Instead, the inside curve was covered in small spikes.

“Now try not to struggle too much,” Volt proclaimed as she approached me, her magic unclasping the collar and swinging it open, “You don’t want this collar to be put on wrong. You’ll find that your life will be cut quite short.”

I recoiled instinctively from the mare, but my bound hooves only let me move so far. Volt had no trouble in grabbing my head with a hoof and holding me in place as she wrapped the collar around me and slammed it shut. The ends met with a resounding click, signaling the end of my life as a free pony, at least for the time being.

The spikes immediately dug into my flesh, making me want to choke. Within seconds, I could feel my throat become slick as my blood welled out from the dozens of puncture wounds, though none of them were actually serious enough to threaten my life. This collar was designed to be as uncomfortable as possible, and any wrong move would cause pain.

“I see you’ve already noticed what this collar does, slave,” Volt mused, her curled gaze following my every move, “I’ll tell you that it was designed to never become comfortable, so you will never forget what you are. Now, which one of you can unshackle her for me? We need to give her a demonstration of what happens if she misbehaves.”

A griffin dutifully stepped forward and undid the chains around my hooves. I instinctively shifted to get my hooves under me, wincing as the blood rushed back into the limbs, but finally managed to make it up. Hopefully, being as compliant as possible would avoid any needless pain and make them think I was perfectly willing to do whatever they wanted. It was my only ticket to get out.

“I don’t recall telling you to stand, slave,” Volt growled, her voice pitched to sound commanding. She lifted her Pipbuck so she could access it and tapped a few buttons.

Electricity shot from the collar, making me cry out in pain as my muscles seized up. I toppled over, no longer in control of my own limbs and screamed again as the spikes against my neck bit into my flesh again.

The flow of electricity finally stopped, but my muscles were still trembling with the after-effects of the collar. I simply lay where I had fallen, panting and trying to catch my breath. Somewhere deep inside me, a tiny part of my spirit broke. A shock collar made escaping impossible. They had at their disposal a way to stop me in their tracks whenever they wanted.

“Stand,” Volt ordered.

I barely heard her. My injured side and neck were still throbbing, and tremors were still going through my muscles as they continued to react to the powerful current that had just flown through them.

“I said stand, slave,” the mare repeated, a tone of warning.

Another wave of electricity hit me, making me arch my back and moan as my body instinctively tried to get away from the source of pain. When the wave finally ended, I was gasping for breath, trying to force my limbs to obey me and lift me to my hooves.

“Too slow,” the mare growled as I finally made it to a sitting position, “Your response needs to be fast. Wasting time is wasted caps.”

Again, my muscles were turned to so much useless meat as she triggered the shock collar for a third time, making me flop to the ground, sending another spike of pain into my neck. When the pain finally ceased, I lay where I was, whimpering in pain. My body wasn’t capable of taking this kind of punishment, and standing was going to be impossible if she kept shocking me.

“Now, stand, slave. That is an order,” Volt ordered again.

I struggled to comply, managing to get my forelegs under me and force myself to a sitting position, but there my strength cut out and I collapsed, gasping for breath. It felt like there wasn’t an ounce of strength left in my entire body, and all I wanted to do was pass out.

Instead another jolt of electricity passed through my body, making me cry out in pain and writhe on the ground. Somehow, through that haze of pain, I managed to make it to my hooves, finding some source of strength from the fear of being shocked again. I stood there, trembling, and watching the purple unicorn as she looked at me almost disinterestedly over the screen of her Pipbuck. Sweat was beading on my forehead to drip down my face, mixing with the rain.

“I’m impressed. Most pass out before they make it to their hooves,” she mused, lowering the Pipbuck and turning to face Shackle.

“I hope you’ve had your fill of fun, Volt. We still have to get back to the Mill,” the stallion complained.

“Before you go, I will stress again my point of watching her carefully,” Greymane insisted, striding forward, “She, and her group of friends, almost managed to best me in combat. She is not to be underestimated.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve met plenty of her type before. Wouldn’t be the first time we enslaved one of those ponies that managed to get featured on that fucking DJs show,” Shackle answered with a dismissive wave of his hoof.

He pulled a pouch of caps from his saddlebag which he then tossed at Mareina. “Four thousand caps, as agreed. Thank you for your business.”

He turned and started to walk away. Volt followed him, sparing only a brief glance in my direction, obviously expecting me to follow.

I did as she expected. What other choice did I have? My legs were still shaking with the aftereffects of the shock collar, but falling would mean another bout of electricity, and I wanted to stay under my own control for as long as I possibly could.

As I walked past Greymane, the buck watched me with a penetrating glare. “We will meet again, Evergreen. That much I am sure of,” he intoned as I passed, “But you will determine what the circumstances of that next meeting. For your sake, I hope you will have learned your place by then.”

I held my tongue, biting back my stinging reply. There was no doubt in my mind that if I did anything else that these two slavers did not specifically give me permission to do, I would be shocked again. Blood was already leaking out from under the collar fastened around my neck, the result of falling several times and having those dozens of tiny spikes dig into my skin.

As we walked out of the camp, I could feel every set of eyes on me, especially that pair of green eyes that belonged to Greymane. I could feel the sense of victory in the air. These mercenaries knew they had just removed one of the greatest threats to their work, and now they would be almost unimpeded in everything they did, barring the local resistance. But nopony was left to fight against them on the large scale. Not even Metro would go out to fight for another town. Mallet would only fight to defend his town, and I couldn’t blame him for that.

After a short time, we were well away from the camp and out in the middle of the wasteland. Ahead, I could make out another encampment that was already being cleaned up as its owner prepared to move. It immediately became apparent that the camp belonged to the slavers. Chained to the ground on the outskirts of the camp were a dozen ponies, all of them dirty and with broken and defeated expressions. They were going to be my new companions.

The first thing Shackle did when we arrived was to chain me up with the others, tacking me on to the back of the train of slaves. Every single pony there was watching me, and I could see the same hopeful look in all of their eyes. They knew exactly who I was, and they believed this was all just some ruse, that I would do something heroic and save us all. By the Princesses Above, how I wished I could.

I didn’t know how they recognized me. My leg, side, and shoulder were wrapped in bandages that had been stained a color somewhere between red and brown, and my hide was coated with a mixture of mud and blood. Even though Mareina had had my injuries treated, she hadn’t bothered to clean me up.

Once Volt and Shackle had moved on to help with breaking the camp, the slave next to me in the chain finally broke the silence, risking punishment just to speak with me. “Heroine?” he asked quietly, as if he barely dared himself to speak.

“No. Just Evergreen. I’m nopony’s hero anymore,” I muttered in return, “Seems I finally met my match.”

“You mean… you didn’t plan this?” the buck asked after a moment’s silence.

I lifted my head to look at him, wincing as the spike cut off my supply of air for a brief moment. He was a dirty grey unicorn with a ragged blue mane. He was wearing a tattered vest that was doing almost nothing to protect against the wind and rain. He might as well have been wearing nothing at all.

“If I had planned this, I wouldn’t be wearing the collar,” I answered sadly, “and I would have some sort of weapon beyond my hooves. I’m sorry, I’m not what’s going to save us.”

“But… you’re the Heroine of Seaddle! You’ve saved so many already!” the buck protested, “I’ve heard about your traveling companions. Won’t they help us?”

“They’re probably trying to put something together, but I’d be surprised if they even know where I am right now,” I answered, “Last time I saw them, I was shouting at them to get to Metro, to warn Mallet. For all I know, we’re on the opposite side of the wasteland from them. Fuck, I can’t believe it’s come to this,”

“So, what are we supposed to do?” somepony else asked, their voice still holding a note of hope.

I turned my head to find the source of the voice. It belonged to a young purple Earth pony mare, probably about the same age as Autumn Mist. Her mane was still more or less styled, with a long pony tail hanging over one shoulder.

“We survive,” I answered bluntly, “We do what they say, when they say. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be pretty, but we can only hope to be free by doing everything they tell us to. Right now, they have all the power, and we cannot try to act until we even the balance somewhat. Believe me, I have no intention of giving up, but right now there isn’t anything any of us can do. When we get to the Mill, then we might have a chance.”

“But nopony has ever escaped from the Mill,” the first buck protested, “Haven’t you heard the stories?”

“No, I haven’t,” I admitted, “But I remember hearing that nopony could ever spit in the face of the Wasteland and make anything of themselves, and I think I’ve pulled that off. At the end of the day, those are only stories. What matters is what we do and how we do it. Just because nopony has ever escaped doesn’t mean we can’t.”

They watched me, their expressions hopeful despite the situation we found ourselves in, and I could feel their determination to survive, if only because of my presence. Part of me hated the thought that I held such influence over these ponies, but another part of me realized that it meant that the collar around my neck didn’t stop me from being who I was. It was just another obstacle to overcome.

I could still fight, even if I no longer had a weapon. The battlefield wasn’t filled with bullets and explosives anymore, but rather the idea that I would be shackled for the rest of my life. The battle was no longer for my life, but for my freedom, and I would be damned before I gave up fighting for that. Besides, I still had a few choice words to say to Steel Curtain before I could let myself give in.

Level up!
Perk Gained: Black Widow: You deal +10% damage to male opponents and have unique dialogue options when speaking with members of the opposite sex.
Skill Note: Melee (75)

{I have been waiting to write the chapter for SO long, and I truly hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did planning for it and writing it. What has happened in this chapter has been the plan for a very long time, and I have a lot of plans ahead for what is going to be happening. As always, thank you to Kkat for creating Fallout Equestria, and thank you to for his editing. This would not be in nearly as good as shape as it is without him. As always, the hub page to the story on Google docs can be found here.}

{Some may have noticed that Cody was not thanked as is usual this chapter. Unfortunately, he has had to back out of editing due to work, school, and life in general. If anyone reading this is willing to help out, or knows someone who would be, *please* point them in my direction or let me know. I really want more than just our two sets of eyes on this.}