Fallout Equestria: Redemption
Author: Cooperdawg
Chapter 14: The Mill
“The mind is as much a shackle as any chain.”

I’d heard a thousand theories about being a slave in my lifetime. I’d heard that the slavers take pride in beating us down, making us think we’re worthless, and that they can take our lives at a moment’s notice. That was proven false the moment I was bought for four thousand caps. It gave me value, far over that of normal slaves, and my supposed masters would not let me go to waste if they spent that fortune in finding me.

I’d heard that they make a point to prove that slaves have no power, that every action we take will accomplish nothing for ourselves. The fact that one slave getting hurt in a forced march and bringing the entire entourage to a halt shows that even our simplest actions are enough to force a group of more than ten slavers to a halt, even if their solution is as simple as a bullet to the head. They still had to stop to respond to a slave’s action.

I’d heard that a slave’s life is worth only what our masters decide it’s worth, and that our only purpose is to do exactly what they wished, without even considering the possibility of doing anything else. Their means of controlling me was clear evidence that they feared what I was capable of.

I had said that the secret of survival as a slave was being compliant, listening to every word that came out of the masters’ mouths and doing exactly as they wished as soon as they said it, even if it meant endangering our lives. Now I was learning that the truth went beyond that. The secret to survival as a slave was to make them believe you were doing exactly what they wanted, when the truth is the exact opposite. I had learned what the limits were within seconds of having the collar placed around my neck, and I would have the scars to remind me of those limits for the rest of my life, both on my neck and on my soul. But they had also taught me where my power lay.

My advantage was my value. The pony all these slavers looked up to, this Eulogy, had spent a fortune to find me, and take me, and that made me more than a simple slave. It made me a prize, and ponies always took special care of their prizes.

There was no doubt that I was going to be humiliated and forced to do things I would never otherwise choose to do, and doubtless many of these things would threaten my life, but my first rule was there for a reason. At first, I had thought that anything would be better than slavery, including death. Now, I thought differently.

I was going to survive, even if it ended in me hating myself. At the end of the day, all that mattered was finishing what I set out to do, and I was not going to disappoint Shooting Star, Cheerilee, and every other soul in the Wasteland that was counting on me simply because I couldn’t do something that would keep me alive.

Ponies had told me that the one simple rule of the wasteland was that survival had to come at any cost, and it was a sentiment I agreed with, to a point. At this point in my life, I would not turn my back on the things that made me who I was: my desire to see the wasteland become something better and my drive to protect every innocent life that I could. As long as I held to those two simple facts, I would do anything, even if it meant murdering a pony in order to protect others.

Shooting Star had a point when he said that most could not do what I did, and I hadn’t been lying when I said that it took more than simply picking up a gun and walking out the door to make something of our world. What I hadn’t said was what it required, and that was a willingness to take as many lives as necessary to make a dream into a reality.

Since the first few questions, my fellow slaves had mostly remained quiet, focusing their energy in staying on their hooves and not lagging, especially after one of our number was put down for spraining an ankle on a rock he hadn’t noticed in time. I couldn’t help but think that the slavers were using that buck as an example to the rest of us. For most of them, it worked, but all it did was make me angrier.

Despite my anger, I held my tongue. Drawing attention to myself would do me no good. Staying in one piece was more important than anything else, as any untreated injury could easily become infected and lead to sickness and ultimately, death. The injuries I already had were making me tire quickly, not to mention the torture that Volt, that damned bitch with the Pipbuck that controlled my shock collar, had put me through that morning they had bought me, but my injuries had at least had been cleaned and bound, so my risk of getting sick was fairly low.

It had been almost two full days since then, and we had spent the entire time marching. With every step, I felt our fate draw nearer, and it terrified me. Once I stepped a hoof inside the confines of the Mill, my chances of getting free would drop dramatically, and there was nothing I could do to slow our approach to that place.

I could tell by the cockiness in the slavers’ strides that we were drawing close. For most of the journey, they had been wary, carefully watching our surroundings and always having their weapons at the ready. I felt a small amount of pride at the fact that it was probably my repeated attacks on their caravans that made them wary of the wasteland, not to mention the fact that I was one of their slaves. It was just another example of the way that I held power over these ponies.

But now they were confident. Their weapons hung at their sides, almost forgotten, and they were talking and laughing amongst themselves .The few snippets I managed to hear of their jokes didn’t do much to improve my opinion of them. How anypony could find a punchline about crippling a pony by severing a leg funny, I would never understand.

Their lightheartedness made me more uncomfortable, because it meant our destination was close. Doubtless we would arrive by nightfall, and then the real hell would begin.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. The sky was just beginning to darken with the setting sun, out of my view as always, but the slavers continued forward with sure steps, rather than stopping us to set up camp.

The smell reminded me of my old camp. It was reminiscent of ponies that had forgotten what hygiene was, or that there was another option to living in your own filth. There was also the smell of burnt flesh, a sickly-sweet stench that made me want to gag. Several of the other slaves did.

“Hah! Sounds like they like the aroma!” One of the slavers laughed. He was a thin, dark-blue Earth pony buck with a puke-green mane styled into a Mohawk. His name was Whip Lash. Fitting, considering his cutie mark of a whip made out of razor wire, and the matching weapon that hung from his barding. Thankfully, I hadn’t seen it put into use yet.

“The fuck you talking about, Lash?” Volt answered, her disgust twisting her features into a cruel mask, “Even I can’t stand the stench of this shit hole. Still can’t believe Eulogy isn’t pushing for some better real estate.”

“Can it, Volt. Gripe all you want, but not in front of the merchandise,” Shackle, the apparent leader of the group, snapped, “Now get back there and make sure they’re all following along nice and quiet. Especially that special purchase from Mareina. Eulogy ain’t gonna be happy if he doesn’t get his hooves on her.”

“I guess somepony in this group has to do the real work,” Volt sighed, slowing her pace until she was walking alongside us slaves.

Her horn began to glow with a strong lavender aura, and a simple .22 pistol levitated out of from her barding. She sidled along the chain of slaves, finally matching our pace when she drew beside me.

“So how does it feel just being another one of them, slave?” she sneered, using the barrel of the weapon to push a stray strand of my mane away from my face, “Nothing special, nopony worth mentioning. Just another empty face and worthless life.”

“She’s the Herione of Seaddle! She isn’t worthless!” the dirty grey unicorn buck that had first risked himself to speak to me answered passionately, “She’ll save us all, just wait and see!”

“She’s going to save all you gutless pukes? Is that what you think?” Volt sneered, lifting a leg and accessing her Pipbuck, “We’ll see just how well she manages that when, with a simple press of a button, I can do… this.”

I knew what was coming, and no amount of bracing was going to let me withstand it. The surge of electricity coursed through my body, locking up my limbs mid-stride and sending me tumbling to the ground. My collar bit painfully into my neck when I landed, making me gasp for breath as the spikes dug into my windpipe. The chain around my left leg that connected me to the rest of the slaves continued forward, wrenching that leg out in front of me and making me cry out in pain as it strained my already-vulnerable muscles.

“Tell me, slave: how is she going to possibly save you when I can put her on the ground with a flick of my hoof?” Volt sneered, walking past me and standing alongside the buck.

The line of slaves had now come to a halt, unable to drag my weight through the mud. Compared to them, I was in shape and well-fed, and it showed. “Just because you can use a button to stop her doesn’t mean she can’t save us! She’s smart and resourceful! How many different groups of slavers has she taken out, huh? How many ponies like us has she managed to save so far?”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Volt frowned, a positively gruesome expression on her thin face. “Too many,” she growled, bringing her pistol to bear, “and it is exactly this kind of resistance we need to put a stop to. Tell me, slave: Do you think she can save you this very second?”

The buck’s gaze darted over to me, then back to Volt. In that split second, I saw the fear in his eyes, as well as the desperation. That glance was a cry for help, and for a miracle I couldn’t deliver.

During the exchange I focused on regaining control over my limbs, struggling, and finally succeeding in dragging myself back to my hooves.

“She can’t do shit. Not as long as I control her,” Volt sneered, watching me with one eye. The second I was up again, she hit the button, sending another stream of electricity through my body.

I collapsed again, and in that moment, I saw the hope and belief drain out of these ponies. I was helpless, and they all saw it. They finally understood that I couldn’t save them.

The expression on the buck’s face was the one that tore my heart the most. He had believed so strongly in me, had stood up to his slaver with the belief that I could protect him, and now he was realizing that I had no such ability.

“I’ll tell you what,” Volt mused, floating her .22 closer to her face so she could inspect it, “I’ll make you a deal. If you can get her to even try to stop me, you’ll get to keep your life. And as for you,” she stated, turning to face me, “If you even think about helping him, I will make your life a living hell, and I will make sure Eulogy finds out about your disobedience. Just because we have orders to keep you alive don’t mean that he will be as charitable.”

She held my gaze for several moments, her piercing glare making sure that I knew, in no uncertain terms, that I didn’t have a choice in what to do.

“So what’s it gonna be, slave?” she continued, turning her head back to the buck.

She cautiously shifted his gaze from Volt to me, and held me pinned with a gaze so desperate that I felt myself torn. “Please, Heroine. Help me. It’s what you do. You save ponies!” he pleaded, his voice the sort of pleading whine I had used to hate. Now, all it did was make me feel pity.

I was faced with a choice, and it was a simple one. I could screw my own chances for survival and step forward to help this buck, and maybe save one life. Or I could hold my tongue and do nothing, and make my chances for survival that much better. My rule was compliancy, and there was a reason for that rule. Helping this buck would not improve my chances of getting out. It would do exactly the opposite.

I had to make the choice that would let me continue my fight, even if I would regret it for the rest of my life. I remained where I had fallen, turning my head away from the buck and staring at the dirt beneath my hooves. I focused my gaze on a small rock that happened to catch my attention. It was small, barely larger than a pebble, but it had smooth edges, like it had been worn down over the years, unlike all the jagged stones and pieces of rubble that littered the wasteland.

“Heroine, please! I need you!” the buck pleaded, “I have a family! They need me. I… I can’t die here. Please… help me.”

I shut his voice out of my mind, reducing his words to unintelligible sounds. The rock became the focus of all of my attention. Underneath the grime of the wasteland I could make out the marbling of the stone, with streaks of white, red, and black criss-crossing its sleek grey surface. As I focused, I could make out a tiny hairline crack spread across one of its faces, forming a small black chasm and breaking a few of the marbled streaks apart.

“It don’t look like she’s listening, scum,” Volt sneered, chambering a round in her pistol. The sound was loud and jarring, and startled me out of my reverie for a moment.

“Evergreen, please! Help me!” the buck begged, crying now. His sobs were heavy, and I could see him shaking in my mind’s eye.

I stared at the rock at my hooves, at the way the dirt and mud of the wasteland clung to its surface holding it trapped against the ground where even a solid kick would have trouble dislodging it. I felt like I was that rock, and that I was so stuck in my own thoughts that I couldn’t stand up and defend a pony that needed it. I hated myself for it.

I closed my eyes, shutting the world out and focused instead on the feel of the dirt beneath my body, the bite of the spikes of my collar against my neck, and the cold steel of the chain around my leg that bound me directly to that buck.

A gunshot tore through the wasteland, making me flinch. A moment later, I heard the sound of something heavy falling to the ground. I fought back against the emotions welling up inside me, against the injustice of what had just happened, my anger at the mare that had taken a life, and the hatred of myself for doing nothing to stop it when I had been the only one with the ability to.

Throughout the sounds of rattling chains, I held my eyes shut. I knew what was happening, and I couldn’t face it. Not yet. That buck was being removed from the chain and I was being rebound to the next slave in line. His corpse was going to be left at the roadside for scavengers. A corpse that could still be alive, if only I had chosen to act.

“All right scum, we’ve got a schedule to keep! Move!” Volt shouted, an undercurrent of sadistic pride in her voice.

I lurched to my hooves, head still hung low, and limped along behind the line of slaves. I tried to keep my eyes firmly focused on the ground in front of me, but out of the corner of my eyes I spotted a dirty grey lump on the ground, and a lolling head whose glassy, staring eyes were fixed on me. I felt fixed in that gaze until we turned around the side of a hill in front of us.

The Mill sat before us on the other side of that hill, sprawling across the landscape like some twisted nightmare. It got its name from the massive structure of the grain mill that the complex had originally been intended for, but now, that mill had been stripped for parts, leaving behind a rusted metal shell.

The main tower was now being used as an exhaust tower, and thick, oily black smoke was pouring out of an opening at the top. In the dim light of the wasteland, it looked like the tower was covered in blood.

A tall wall that was several feet thick circled the entire perimeter and was topped with rolls of razor wire. Nopony was ever going to escape by climbing over those walls. Even if they did, the guard towers erected at regular intervals gave anypony on watch the perfect vantage point to spot any potential escapees, and then shoot them. Part of me doubted that the threat stopped some ponies from trying.

Nestled between two massive stone columns and reinforced by several barricades of razor wire and firing lines was the steel gateway into that hell. Looking at it made the entire complex look more like a fortress than a slave camp.

As we neared, I could hear sounds coming from within the complex. The loudest was the whining and grinding of ancient industrial machinery. Whatever was going on beyond that steel gate, it was big, and I was on my way to meeting the pony in charge of it all.

We were marched right up to the gate, weaving our way through the maze of razor wire that guarded it. A half-dozen heavily armed ponies were sitting around an improvised table playing cards as we approached.

One of the ponies, a green Earth Pony mare with a dark blue mane that was cut into something that might have resembled a crew cut rose from the table and turned to face us. “Took you fucking long enough, Shackle. We’ve been expecting you for two days. Where the fuck have you been?” she asked angrily, her gaze shifting from the slaver to us. “Is this all you have to show for your efforts? A dozen starved and broken ponies? I expected better.”

“This is better. That bitch in the back is the one responsible for all our losses these past couple of weeks. Had to go a little out of the way to pick her up, but the boss is going to be happy once he knows we’ve got her,” Shackle retorted, lifting his head and puffing out his chest.

“You don’t say?” the mare drawled, striding past the convoy and coming to a stop next to me, “So you’re the cunt that offed Chainlink, eh? Call me impressed. Fucker was one of the best fighters I knew. How’d you do it?”

“In my experience, a bullet to the head kills most ponies pretty easily,” I answered simply, shrugging, “He was no different.”

The guard laughed, throwing back her head and revealing a row of yellowed teeth and the stench of half-rotted meat. “Oh, you I like! You’re gonna want to watch that attitude though, slave. Answers like that amuse ponies like me, but fuckers like them don’t take too kindly to it,” she chuckled, nodding her head in the direction of Shackle and Volt.

“Stop fucking around, Shrapnel. Some of us actually have work to do. Now open the damn gate,” Shackle growled.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got it,” Shrapnel answered, rolling her eyes as she chuckled at their expense. She made her way to a small gatehouse set into one of the columns and briefly disappeared in the gloom. A moment later, there was an anemic grind and the gate began to swing open. Shrapnel reappeared, leaning against the column. “You know the drill. Drop this stinking lot off at the pens, but bring her straight to Eulogy,” she said, gesturing to me with a jerk of her head, “He’s going to want to welcome her personally.”

“She’s just a slave, Shrapnel. None of ‘em get special treatment,” Shackle retorted as he started to lead us through the gate.

“Your funeral. I’m just telling you what’ll make the old buck happy,” Shrapnel answered with a shrug as she waited for us to pass.

I couldn’t hear Shackle’s response, as the gate began to grind against its hinges again, slamming shut with a metallic clang behind us. We were now sealed within the walls of the complex. Most of us would probably never walk out as free ponies again, but I was determined not to be one of that number.

We were led along a rough dirt track that traced a path between mounds of wreckage before passing into an area that could only be the main courtyard of the complex. Here, a vision of hell met us.

Most of the area was taken up by the slave pens. They looked to have once been stables for livestock before the war, and it didn’t look like much had changed. They had been reinforced so the slaves within couldn’t simply break their way out, but otherwise, the original steel cages in the outdoor areas did a perfect job of keeping the slaves contained, while still giving them the option of taking shelter indoors.

Another part of the courtyard, bordering the slave pens, was the industrial complex that had been built up around the base of the old grain tower. The heat and stench of industrial toxins coming from there was overwhelming, making us gag and sputter for breath. The sounds of work came from within the structures there, and now I could also make out the sounds of shouts and the crack of whips.

The last part of the courtyard, built up as far from the slave pens as was possible, was the slaver’s area. A corrugated steel fence surrounded it, separating them even further from the pens and work areas, and the single gate was guarded by a pair of armed guards. Through the gate, I could make out their mess and rec areas which were populated with mean-looking slavers, as well as a few ponies I was fairly certain I had seen in the shanty town outside of Metro.

The rec area was also populated with several slaves, all of them mares. Some were serving the slavers, while others were being forced to provide whatever entertainment they could. The entire display disgusted me, and I could feel a familiar rage building within my chest. I wanted to charge in there and kill every single slaving bastard for what they were doing. Nothing less would suffice.

“Get in there, scum! Somepony will be along shortly to give you your instructions. I suggest you don’t get too comfortable. You won’t be sitting useless for long,” Shackle ordered, holding open a reinforced door to one of the pens. The chains were removed from our legs as we filed into the dark confines of the pen. The only light came from the open door to the outside cage.

As soon as I stepped through the door, it slammed shut behind me. In a moment of crushing defeat, I realized that I was trapped, and had no idea of what I was going to do to get out of here. I had no allies, no weapons, and no information. It was easily the worst situation I had ever found myself in.

I stumbled through the pen, trying to find an open spot to lie down, but it was crowded, with bodies piled against each other for every scrap of open space. The smell of unwashed bodies was thick and cloying, actually managing to overpower the toxic fumes from the industrial site.

Not finding anything inside, beyond a few annoyed grunts and curses, I stumbled into the outdoor cage and collapsed on the first open patch of ground. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop the tears from welling up or coursing down my cheeks. I had managed to keep it together this long because of our march and my focus at trying to find every possible weakness in this place that I could, but now that I was locked up and had nowhere to go or nothing to do, I had nothing to stop my emotions from rushing back in a crushing tide.

I had chosen not to act, and a life had been lost as a consequence. No matter what any pony said, that blood was on my hooves. I may not have pulled the trigger, but I had done nothing to stop it. And all because I couldn’t risk threatening my own safety. It was a curse to know I was one of the only ponies capable of fighting back, or to have a reason to fight back, and something inside me was breaking at the thought that I had simply sat by and let the buck be murdered.

In the silence of my mind, I vowed that I would avenge that nameless buck, and that Volt’s death would be neither quick nor painless. She would suffer, and she would understand exactly why I was not a pony to be fucked with.

I couldn’t say how long I lay there, feeling sorry for myself and wishing for things to be different, but it couldn’t have been long. The sky was still bright enough for it to be late afternoon, at worst, when somepony approached me. They came from within the slave pen, so I immediately knew that they were a slave as well, but that didn’t mean much. A simple rule of society was that even a slave force would construct a hierarchy among itself, with some slaves becoming more powerful than others. And it was always the newcomers that inhabited the lowest rung of that ladder.

“What are you doing out here? Only the veterans get to sleep outside,” the voice growled angrily.

I lifted my head, doing what I could to wipe the tears away, and looked up into the gruff face of an elderly Earth Pony buck. He had a red hide and ratty white mane that hung in wisps from his head. He stood over me in a stance that communicated a physical strength that most ponies his age usually no longer possessed, especially given what he was.

“There wasn’t any space in there,” I answered, needing to put all of my focus into my speech just to keep my voice from breaking, “And I… I just needed to lie down.”

I lowered my head again, resting it on my forelegs. My thoughts were drifting back into the abyss of self-hate when the buck kicked me, making me stagger up into a sitting position in shock.

“I don’t think you get it, new blood,” he growled, “You don’t get to be out here. I’ve seen hundreds of ponies like you come through here. You’ll be dead in a few days, and I don’t want you stinking up our space.”

“I’m not going to die,” I retorted icily, the comment jarring me out of my slump. It made me realize how much I had let that buck’s death affect me. It was terrible, to be sure, and it was going to take a lot before I forgave myself, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be on my guard. “These bastards will try, but they will not succeed,” I continued, staring into the buck’s eyes.

He seemed surprised now, something that gave me a small amount of satisfaction, but a hard and angry gleam was still present in his gaze. “Being angry isn’t going to help you either.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Here this buck was, trying to lecture me, when I knew exactly what was needed to survive. I had survived far worse things than this buck could even imagine. “Oh I know exactly what it takes to survive,” I said with a grin as I rose to my hooves, “But having to worry about bucks like you trying to call me out really isn’t part of the plan. You see, from my perspective, we’re all exactly the same. They certainly see it that way, and I don’t see a reason to disagree with them. And that means that you have no power over me beyond what I choose to give you.”

The look on the old buck’s face was priceless. The anger was completely gone, replaced by shock. “I have been here for almost five years!” he sputtered, “I have survived longer than most ever do, and you think you can lecture me! You don’t know what it’s like to be a slave!”

“If you mean that I don’t know what it means to have a collar slapped around my neck and not have the freedom to choose what I’m going to do, then I agree with you. I haven’t got a clue what I’m in for,” I growled, “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t experience slavery. My chains were a different kind, and they held me tethered to a life I hated because I didn’t know any better. And honestly, I don’t care about the fact that you’ve been here for five years. At the end of the day, none of that matters. All that matters is what we do with what we have left.”

“But we don’t have anything!” the buck protested, bringing another twisted grin to my face.

“Exactly my point,” I said with a smile, “We have nothing. So what do you have that makes you better than me? A few years more spent in hell? I promise you, I’ve seen more death and destruction in these last few weeks than you’ve seen in your entire life. I’m no rookie to hell.”

The buck looked like he was about to say something more when the loud ringing sound of the door to our pen being opened echoed through the cramped confines of the building, and a harsh, familiar voice shouted, “Where’s the stupid bitch that killed half our caravans at?”

My smile disappeared from my face and I sighed. “Would it kill them to use a name? How the fuck do they tell us apart if they don’t use a fucking name?” I muttered as I pushed myself through the crowd until I stood in front of Volt, getting a little bit of satisfaction out of the old buck’s expression when he realized I was the one Volt was looking for.

“Right here, Volt. Your boss want to see me?” I asked, trying to sound submissive. It didn’t help that I hadn’t been this low on the social ladder in years.

“Watch your tone, slave. Do I need to remind you what you are?” She sneered, lifting her Pipbuck in warning.

“No ma’am,” I immediately answered, bowing my head and lowering myself slightly in front of her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hint of a grin creep onto her face. She thought she had me completely under her control.

“Good. Follow me, and keep your eyes down. Not many slaves get the pleasure of Eulogy’s presence,” Volt ordered, then turned and stepped out of the building.

I followed her out of the pen and across the courtyard towards the fence that separated the slaves from the slaver’s area. As we passed through the gate, I realized that the slaver’s buildings weren’t fenced off from the slaves, but the other way around. The steel fence hid the large open areas beyond from the gaze of the slaves, and it wasn’t hard to see why.

The space the slavers had to themselves was massive, easily twice the size of the courtyard surrounding the slave pens, and it contained everything they could ever need to live comfortably, up to and including a clinic and fully-stocked armory. The building we were currently approaching was larger than most and was a sturdy brick structure that had a massive neon sign hung over the door that read ‘Eulogy’s Pad’. I barely managed to withhold a grimace at the showiness of it all. This Eulogy’s ego must be triple the size of anypony I had ever met, except maybe Seahawk, though I hadn’t actually met him yet.

Once we reached the door, Volt pulled it open with her magic and gestured for me to walk in. I stepped past her, feeling her gaze drilling me in the back every step of the way. When I was finally through the door, I heard it slam behind me and the slaver strode past me, a cruel grin on her face.

“Eulogy, I got that cunt that killed Chainlink and Ingot down here. You said you wanted to see her?” Volt announced loudly, making her way over to a wet bar that was set up on one wall and picking up a bottle of whiskey. She took a moment to examine the label, then opened it and took a large gulp.

“Thank you, Volt,” a deep voice answered that was coming from somewhere above me, “You can take that bottle of whiskey as a mark of my gratitude. I want to speak with her privately.”

“You sure about that boss? Want the frequency for her collar, in case she decides to do something stupid?” Volt asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

“If it makes you feel better. I don’t think she’ll be trying anything here. She has nowhere to run and nothing that gives her an advantage. Acting now would gain her nothing, and I know she understands that. Leave us,” the pony answered. The voice was still coming from above me, but was moving to my right. I was twisting my head, trying to see where its owner was.

He finally came into sight a few moments later as he descended the large staircase whose base was facing the wall ahead of me, putting the actual staircase out of sight. At first glance, Eulogy looked just like every other pony I had ever met. He was a nondescript brown Earth Pony with a black mane and was wearing a rather simple bright red vest. His cutie mark appeared to be a gravestone, which I hoped had something to do with his name, rather than the business of death that he was a part of.

As I watched him, however, I noticed something that set him apart from everypony else I had met that was a part of his slave operation. He was actually clean, his hide free of the dust, grime, and sweat that every other pony in the wasteland simply got used to. That doesn’t mean that the rest of the wasteland doesn’t believe in hygiene, but wasting good, clean water on washing one’s body is something that simply isn’t done, and dirty water never quite gets that last layer of grime off. The fact that this buck was clean, really clean, meant that he had to have a very steady supply of clean water, a feat almost unheard of in the wasteland.

“If you say so, boss,” Volt finally muttered, stashing the bottle of whiskey in her barding and making for the door. She paused for a moment to give something to Eulogy, then continued on towards me. As she passed me, she kicked me in the gut, making me retch and fall to my knees, “Don’t forget your place, scum. The likes of you shouldn’t even look at him.”

I heard the door open and close again while I struggled to regain my breath and drag myself back to my hooves. When I finally succeeded and looked up, Eulogy was standing only a few feet away from me, an almost amiable grin on his face.

“I apologize for her,” he said, turning towards the wet bar once he saw that I was all right, “She’s a little severe, but she keeps the caravans in line, so I keep her around. I prefer my employees here to be a little more even-tempered. Would you like a drink?”

“A… drink?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around what was going on. This buck was supposed be the slaver in charge of all the slaving operations in the Seaddle wasteland? And he was offering me, his slave, his property, a drink? It didn’t make sense.

“Yes. I have whiskey, rum, beer, wine, maybe even a bottle of good North-Equestrian vodka around here somewhere. What would you like?” he asked as he poured himself a glass of some amber liquid that looked like a bourbon.

In my mind’s eye a saw a half-empty bottle of Apple Whiskey. I had never had a chance to finish that bottle; I had wanted to save it for an occasion really worthy of it. Now, it had probably disappeared down the gullet of one of those damned mercenaries working for Mareina. “I’ll take a bottle of beer, but not that cheap shit,” I answered. It was an old joke we’d thrown around in the old gang, and one of the few things from that life that I had held one to. To my amusement, Eulogy actually laughed.

He pulled a brown bottle out of a fridge and made his way over to me. I grabbed the beer from his hoof and took a drink, relishing the barely-cooled taste of ancient hops sliding down my throat. It tasted like shit, but anything was better than the tiny amount of dirty water that the slavers had been giving us on the road.

“You don’t seem that different from one of us, Evergreen, or should I say Heroine of Seaddle? Shooting Star seems to be really enamored of you recently, but you really aren’t that different from us,” Eulogy mused as he took a sip from his whiskey.

“I’m no Heroine. Just a pony trying to make things better,” I answered automatically, “And I don’t think any pony is really that different from anyone else. The only differences are the things we believe in.”

“So you think those cowards in Metro aren’t too different from raiders?” Eulogy pressed, an eyebrow raised in surprise at my answer.

“Hah! Raiders are an entirely different thing altogether. Crazed bastards can barely remember what they are, much less keep track of a set of morals and ethics. But everything else: gangers, merchants, ponies like me, and even slavers like you, we’re all more or less the same: all just trying to survive in a world that keeps trying to kill us. The differences come from how far we’re willing to go to do that,” I answered with a grin, taking another swig from my beer.

“No, there’s more to it than that. You’re hiding something. What are you, Evergreen?” Eulogy asked pointedly, “And don’t lie to me. I’d hate for this conversation to become uncivil.”

I hesitated. My past had become a very personal thing, and it wasn’t something I shared easily. My friends knew only because that life had affected almost all of them, but Tinder still didn’t have a clue. But on the other hoof, lying to Eulogy could be a very poor decision. “I was a raider not too long ago,” I admitted, lowering my head to look at the faded label on my beer. It was too worn to make anything out except for the light blue shade that used to be the background, “It took one of my friends showing up out of nowhere one day and saying a few key things to me that made me realize how much I hated that life.”

“So you just changed gears and started helping others? Just like that?” Eulogy asked, “I don’t believe it.”

“Life is never that simple. At first, it was just about survival. You know, finding the right supplies to keep myself going, and helping Metro seemed to be the best way of giving myself somewhere I could go back to, to trade for supplies and food. My intention was to become a mercenary. Life had other plans in mind,” I explained.

“So now you travel the wasteland, righting wrongs and getting involved in things that are much larger than you are,” Eulogy said with a lopsided grin, “Not exactly the healthiest choice, though I’m sure Volt taught you that.”

“I stopped caring the day I walked into Buckview and saw the entire town burned to the ground and the ponies that used to live there thrown into a single pile and lit on fire. Somepony has to keep shit like that from happening. If not me, then who? We don’t live in a world where we can wait for somepony else to come along and put things right. We can only rely on ourselves,” I stated simply, draining the last of my beer and dropping the bottle on a table.

“And that’s when things started becoming more difficult for you, didn’t they?” Eulogy asked, “Because you had to keep digging. And that led you to me.”

“What led me to you was the fact that I chose to trust someone, and they betrayed that trust. I’m here because we were outgunned and surrounded, not because I chose to do something to try to make the wasteland a better place,” I growled.

“I suppose the heart of the matter is that you took out two of my caravans, and killed a lot of my best slavers,” Eulogy stated, finishing his drink as well, “If you haven’t noticed, I appreciate the finer touches of life. If there’s anything the ponies of old understood, it was luxury, and that is something I attempt to live by. But that sort of life requires resources, the kind of resources that are only available to those that are involved in the trade of something plentiful, yet is always in high demand. There are not many markets like that in today’s world, and your actions have dented my production and made my lifestyle more difficult to maintain.”

“It doesn’t matter how gilded the life is. Your business is the destruction of the lives of others. That isn’t something I can stand for. Not anymore,” I retorted, “Every single one of those ponies out there has a life, and family, and friends. You have stolen all of that away from them. Think for half of a second: If you offered them food and shelter, I could almost guarantee that most would stay and work for you, because they would be safe. Instead, you choose to enslave them and drive them to the brink. How many slaves die in a month, or a week, or even a day?”

“You are making the same assumption as every other slave that has stood before me has made. You saw the industrial site and assumed that I keep all of you here to work. You couldn’t be more wrong. Your particular slave pen is my workforce. The ones who work the mill and keep this place running, but the other pens are only temporary. I am not in the business of forming a workforce; there is no way I could keep it all under control with our limited size. No, I am in the business of trading slaves. Fully ninety percent of the slaves that come through here are sold elsewhere, most to mainland Equestria. Somepony in Fillydelphia has a huge operation in the working and is begging for slaves from anywhere he can get them. I am more than happy to oblige, especially given the offering price. That one pony has made me quite rich,” Eulogy said with a smirk.

“And what is that wealth worth?” I pressed, “What good do all of those caps do you if you don’t use them? Every cap I have ever made I have spent on ways to help either myself or my friends, because out there, on the road, I can’t shoot a cap at somepony, and I can’t use one to save a friend’s life.”

“The typical viewpoint of a wastelander,” Eulogy mused, “I am not a wastelander. I am a businesspony. My slavers are the ones that need to go out there, not me. Which brings me to my last point, and the one that is most important to you. You have killed a lot of my employees, which puts me in a bit of a bind. When I put out the order to find you, I was expecting some higher-than-thou pony that cried themselves to sleep every time they were forced to kill. Instead, I am now discovering that you know the darker sides of ponykind, and you have no hesitations about taking a life, which gives me some options. I am not stupid enough to trust you with a full position as one of my slavers, but you would go to waste as a slave. My offer is this: I take that collar off of you, and you work in the slave pens, keeping the population under control and keeping them efficient. What do you say?”

The offer took me completely by surprise. I opened my mouth, intending to announce my acceptance, then stopped myself to think. If I said yes, then I would have a huge advantage, namely, my collar would be gone. But there were a lot of problems. I would be watched, probably constantly and closer than if I was a slave. The slave pens were the most heavily guarded area of the entire complex, which meant that if I ever tried anything, I would be found out almost immediately. And then the last problem: controlling a population of slaves meant hurting them, maybe even killing them. I had vowed to save those ponies, to make their suffering end. If I accepted, I would be doing the exact opposite.

I steeled myself for the inevitable response and set my jaw in a determined expression, or at least I hoped it was determined. “I would rather die,” I growled.

The smirking grin disappeared from Eulogy’s face to be replaced by a look of disappointment. “I see. I can’t say that I am surprised, though I wish you would see reason.”

“Being made to hurt those ponies would go against everything I believe in today, Eulogy. ‘Seeing reason’, as you put it, would mean betraying everything I have spent these last weeks fighting for. That is not going to happen. And before you ask, I’m not afraid of what’s to come. I can guarantee that I’ve survived worse,” I said, taking a few steps towards the buck.

“I believe you. The wasteland is a harsh place. Ah well, I had to meet the mare that was able to impress the good DJ. I imagine he would be interested to know the things I learned this afternoon,” Eulogy mused, his grin returning. He obviously thought that the threat of destroying my reputation would make me agree with him.

“Go ahead and tell him. I’d rather that than to accept your offer,” I said with a shrug. This was where my fight back started. He believed he had such an advantage over me, that knowing my past would make Shooting Star despise me. He was going to be in for a rude surprise when he learned the truth, and that would make him angry, and angry ponies made mistakes. Mistakes in a world like ours ended in death.

“You truly aren’t very smart, are you, Evergreen?” Eulogy asked with a cock of his head, “I will destroy your image. If you ever manage to get out of here, a feat that has never been accomplished since I have been in charge, you will not be able to go anywhere without being spurned. You will be finished!”

“I was finished the day this collar was locked around my neck,” I shot back, “And as you said, nopony has escaped ever since you took over here. So your threat, very simply, isn’t one.”

Eulogy shook his head slowly, that grin of his spreading into a full-blown smile. He looked me in the eye and reached into his vest for something that looked like a detonator, with the only exception that it had two buttons. “It can’t be said that I did not give you the choice to have a better life. You could have become something here, Evergreen. No matter, you have made your choice, and I will support it.”

Before I could say anything, he pressed one of the buttons. Instantly, my body was wracked with pain stemming from the shock collar, robbing my limbs from my control and eliciting a shriek of agony from me. Unlike with Volt, Eulogy didn’t let up on the charge, and kept me lying in agony, electricity coursing through my body, until the blissful nothingness of unconsciousness claimed me.

When I finally came to, it was to the familiar revolting smell of unwashed bodies. I cracked my eyes open to discover that I was lying in a corner of the slave pen, surrounded on all sides by other slaves, all of them quiet and curled up around themselves. There wasn’t a whole lot of trust between ponies in here.

I shifted slightly, wanting to get out from the press of bodies, but groaned in pain the second I moved. Every single muscle protested against any sort of movement, and it felt like they were on fire. Eulogy must have continued shocking me even after I had already passed out. I did my best to shut the pain out of my mind and forced myself to my hooves, gritting my teeth against my body’s protests.

My legs were shaking badly when I finally made it up, and my heart was racing, but I couldn’t prevent the slight grin from spreading across my face at my success. After a moment or two of steadying myself, I tiptoed around the sleeping ponies as I made my way outside.

It was odd, that I considered the stench of the industrial site preferable over the smell of other ponies, but then, I had never really been forced to live in such close quarters before, but had spent a lot of time scavenging from old pre-war sites. Either way, I breathed a large sigh of relief when I finally made it out of the pen.

Outside, it was dark, and a quick check of my Pipbuck revealed that it was very early in the morning. I switched it over to the radio function and dialed in Shooting Star’s station while I found an open patch of ground and lay down. The soft music that poured forth from the small computer did a lot to sooth my jangled nerves, and I found myself actually smiling at the sound. In the hell that my life was quickly becoming, there were still things that were unchanging, and as long as those things remained, I would know there was still hope.

A few songs later, and after I had turned the volume down to keep it from disturbing others, or from getting myself in trouble, the recording of Shooting Star’s most recent show came on.

“Hellooooo Seaddle! I hope you are all sitting down, because it is time for the news! Unfortunately, today is not a day for good tidings. It has come to my attention that only hours after having left my station, our Heroine was attacked by mercenary forces, and she was captured. I’m afraid I cannot say what has happened to her since then, as her companions have not been heard from since, either. My question to all of you is to keep your eyes out for them. If you find them, please, speak to them and discover what has happened if you can. A mare that has taught us so much about what it means to be a better pony should not be so easily forgotten. That is all I have for you tonight. And Heroine, if you are listening, we are looking for you, and we will help you.”

The voice faded into the night, and the soft, slow chords of one of Sweetie Belle’s ballads rolled out into the cool night air. I was shaking my head slowly, tears coming unbidden to my eyes.

“Please tell me you lot aren’t trying to find me,” I whispered, “I told you to go to Metro. Mallet needs to know about what’s happening.”

“I wouldn’t bother with that show, if I were you,” a voice intruded on my thoughts, “It’s just going to make surviving here that much harder.”

I turned my head to fix its owner in a hard glare. In the darkness, all I could make out was the long, ragged condition of what appeared to be a dark mane and the dull amount of light reflecting off the pony’s eyes. The voice sounded female, but that was all I could determine. “What the hell would you know about it?” I asked icily, “What if this is what keeps me sane?”

“I’m not arguing that,” the pony answered, the shape shifting slightly as she shrugged, “I’m arguing for your survival. There was another pony in here not too long ago that had one of those computers. She’d listen to the show religiously every night. Eventually decided that death would be preferable. She didn’t come back to the pens after the work day was over.”

“Good thing for me that I have every intention to survive,” I snapped, “And nothing is going to stop me.”

“Funny. That’s exactly what she said when I warned her of the same thing,” the mare muttered, “I’m not telling you how to live your life. I’m warning you against doing something that’s already killed several ponies.”

“I’m sure they didn’t have the same reason to listen to the show as I do,” I said, shifting myself somewhat so I was facing the pony.

“And what reason is that? You know him or something?” the mare asked, her tone chiding.

I took a few moments to decide what to tell her, and finally decided that honesty was the best course to convince this mare that I knew what I was doing. “Yeah. I was grabbed on my out of the city after meeting him, but that’s not what I mean. That Heroine he’s talking about, she’s me. I hate the title, but after speaking with him, I’ve come to understand his reasoning for giving it to me.”

It wasn’t an idle statement. Talking to the buck had given me a lot of insight into the way he did things, and the way he saw the world. I still felt like I didn’t deserve the title, but I knew why I didn’t. The rest of the wasteland didn’t. To them, I was everything the name signified.

The mare remained silent for several minutes as she thought about what I had said. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that. Of course, you could be lying to me. I have no way of knowing. What’d you do to screw up this badly?” she finally asked.

“Trusted someone I shouldn’t have. Ponies like me find a lot of enemies. One of mine outsmarted me, so I ended up here. My friends are still out there though, and they’re still alive. Hope isn’t lost yet,” I said grimly, lifting my gaze to look out over the walls and towards the horizon. The darkness was still too thick to make anything out, but I could make out the line of the clouds over the black edge of the walls.

“If you’re sitting in here with one of those collars on, hope has been gone for a long time,” the mare grumbled and lowered her head, making her just another dark lump against the ground.

“I disagree,” I shot back, finding a small measure of satisfaction when her head came back up. I could imagine the questioning look on her face, “It’s just a different kind of shackle. At least now I don’t have to worry about getting shot at every day.”

I fell silent after that and looked back out to the horizon. I must have been lying there much longer than I had thought, since the sky was beginning to lighten with the coming dawn. It was going to be the first full day of my new life as a slave.

“Some chains are worse than others,” the mare retorted one last time before she also fell silent.

I couldn’t find a reason to disagree with her. In my current situation, it did definitely feel like my collar was a much worse shackle than I was used to, but part of that could be the reasoning that it was locked around my neck, and I knew exactly how much damage it could do to me. I sighed and lowered my heads to my forehooves. Hopefully I’d be able to get some sleep before the hell of tomorrow started.

The sound of the door to the pen being slammed open roused me from the uneasy sleep I had managed to find, leaving me feeling groggy. For a few moments I couldn’t remember exactly where I was, but the harsh shouts of whoever had opened the door, not to mention the slow shuffle of the ponies around me, served as a very quick reminder.

I rose to my hooves along with everypony around me, casting about as I did for the mare I had spoken with the night before. The only pony that looked like it could have been her was a deep brown Earth Pony mare with a blonde mane that shot me a quick glance as we filed out of the pen to stand in a line outside. Her gaze was neither angry nor supportive, but more of a look to see me in the light of day. I could feel her judging me and weighing me against whatever she thought I should be.

Once we were all lined up, one of the guards, a ragged blue unicorn buck I hadn’t seen before, announced where we would all be working. I was assigned to scrap recovery, whatever that meant.

The announcements finished, each group of slaves was led to their respective work areas. By watching, I could tell that most slaves had a usual job; not surprising, given the specialized equipment that an industrial site like this would use.

My particular group was made up of only a half-dozen ponies, including myself. Three of these slaves struck me as abnormal, in the sense that their expressions and the way they held themselves did not look like they were from some town or caravan. It almost felt like they had been raiders or bandits, judging purely on the way they held themselves.

While in the presence of the guards, they were quiet, even submissive, but that didn’t stop me from seeing a few angry glares pass between them, making me feel distinctly uncomfortable. They would be a danger if the guards ever lost control of them, and my only saving grace was that I knew how to deal with their kind, but other slaves wouldn’t have that kind of experience, especially the other two in our group.

One was a small Earth Pony stallion who looked to be a few years younger than Autumn. His grey hide was covered in dirt and grime, and his black mane hung in knotted tangled over his neck. His cutie mark was a trio of bottle caps, making me think that he must have traveled with a caravan. The last member of our group was an older unicorn mare who had a lifeless gaze in her eyes that I had come to equate with those ponies that had been stuck in this place for a long time. She had a dusky orange hide that was covered in sores and what little was left of her bright red mane hung in thin clumps from the top of her head. She looked like a mare on the verge of death.

We were led out of the Mill and a short walk away to the ruins of an office complex that was situated on the edge of a crater. Part of an office building had tumbled down off of its foundation into the crater, leaving the innards of the structure exposed to the elements. What few glances I got into the crater itself revealed a mess of rubble and scrap, as well as a collection of greenish rain water. This must be the remains of a balefire bomb impact site.

“All right, maggots, listen up ‘cause I’m only saying this once, and that only because one of you is new. Your job is to get down there and pull out as much scrap as you can carry that we can recycle for the Mill. If I don’t think you brought out enough, you’re going back in. You each get one dose of Rad-Away, and I’ll give it to you whenever I damn well please! Now, get to it!” the guard in charge of out small group ordered once we reached a small structure set up on the edge of the crater.

At first glance, the small shack looked like any other random structure, but I quickly realized that it was the guard’s outpost for this particular job and had been built next to the easiest path down into the crater.

As soon as the orders were given, the other slaves in my group started down the trail into the crater. I stayed a few steps behind the ponies that looked like raiders and kept a careful eye on them. They wouldn’t be supervised down here, and that was when they would take advantage of whatever small amount of freedom they could find. Being a mare, I would have to watch my back.

“This is the last trip for me, I think,” the elderly mare murmured as we descended the trail. My Pipbuck was starting to click slowly at me, warning me of a higher level of radiation here. It explained why we were going to receive a dose of Rad-Away.

“What do you mean? If you’re quick and careful, this job shouldn’t be that hard,” I answered, reaching down into the rubble and pulling out a solid length of scrap metal that I deposited into the saddle-bag that I had been provided for that very purpose. I was hoping that my demonstration would convince the mare that it wasn’t as difficult as she thought, but all she did was shake her head at me.

“I’ve been here for a long time, dear, and I have never been given that dose of Rad-Away. The radiation takes a long time to build up, but we are never given a chance to get rid of it. I think this will be the last day I crawl into this crater,” she answered with a sad smile.

“Why would they lie to us like that?” I demanded, a bit more angrily than I intended. The outburst drew a surprised look from the mare, but she quickly reasserted her sad expression.

“Because they enjoy seeing us suffer. Mark my words, dear: Not even raiders can match these guards in sheer savagery. But don’t weep for me. I will finally be able to join my beloved family,” the mare said as she drifted away, down a thin trail I hadn’t even noticed until then.

I watched her go, wondering at how bad things had to be for that mare to not even care about her imminent death. In just a few short moments, she had disappeared around a piece of rubble, and my chance to say anything else to her was gone.

The raiders were already out of sight on the main trail ahead of me, and I wanted to keep an eye on them for any potential trouble, not to mention the fact that they couldn’t get the jump on me if I knew where they were at all times. I hurried to keep up with them, spending a bit of my precious energy to trot down the trail. I rounded the curve ahead of me just in time to see one of the raiders disappear inside the crumbled remains of a collapsed office building.

As I neared it, a voice from off to my side stopped me. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” it said. The voice was high-pitched, but undoubtedly male, and had the dismissive tone I was used to hearing from old bucks that didn’t care whether or not I listened to them.

I turned my head in the direction of the sound and spotted the young buck that had come down with or group. He was standing in the midst of a tangled wreck of metal and pulverized concrete and was watching me with an uncaring gaze.

“And why not?” I retorted, “There’s got to be some good scrap in there.”

He shook his head slowly and turned to look down at the rubble at his hooves, as if trying to determine the best way to drag it all back up to the edge of the crater. “Did you even look at those three? They’d chew you up in seconds. Everything in that building belongs to them. The last pony to follow them in didn’t come back out.”

“They’re slaves. By definition, nothing belongs to them,” I snapped, “Besides, I’d rather know where they are and avoid getting jumped then to let them do whatever the hell they want.”

The buck shrugged his shoulders and pawed at the ground. “Suit yourself. I ain’t gonna stop you. It’s your funeral, not like anypony is going to notice.”

I snorted and approached the door. I paused for a split second to listen for any noise coming from the other side before I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The hallway I walked into was dark, with no windows, and no working lights, to break up the shadows. Once the door closed behind me, I was left in utter darkness, with only the dim light from my Pipbuck making it possible to see at all. How the raiders could find their way around in here was beyond me.

Using my Pipbuck as a flashlight, I made my through the halls, sticking as close to the wall as I could and only using the computer to light the ground immediately in front of me. At the same time, I was keeping a close eye on my E.F.S., watching for any movement from the raiders I knew were in here.

After a few minutes of blindly walking through the dark, I stumbled, literally, into a small foyer that was criss-crossed with hoofprints in the dust. A pillar of light streaked into the center of the room through a large hole in the wall opposite me, and almost twenty feet up. Whatever this room was now, it appeared to have once been a massive lounge or meeting room.

My complete lack of stealth ability notwithstanding, I was grateful for the light. It made me feel like I was actually a part of the world again, rather than some shadow trespassing somewhere I shouldn’t be. I made a full circuit of the room, examining the motes of dust that were flitting about in the pillar of light. I was also looking out for any signs of these ponies visiting this place regularly, which seemed to be the case, given the volume of hoofprints on the ground.

What struck me as interesting about this room was that my Pipbuck had stopped clicking at me. Somehow, this part of the building was free of a dangerous level of background radiation. Even given the danger of my situation, I let out a sigh of relief. It was one last thing to worry about, at least for the moment.

As I passed on of the hallways extending back into the depths of the building, I noticed a trail of hoofprints breaking off from the mass and following the hallway. I struck out after them, slowing my pace to watch my step a little more carefully. I didn’t want to stumble into another room to find it occupied.

The trail led me through the building and down a set of stairs into what appeared to be a sub-basement. Down here, I had to be extra careful about watching where I stepped. Conduits snaked along the walls and ceiling, and they had broken in several places to litter the ground with tangled cables, not to mention the disgusting mass of broken glass and stains. It looked like the raiders had no difficulty in finding alcohol, and then leaving the glass from the broken bottles everywhere they could.

I was so focused on trying to not make a sound that I completely missed the appearance of the blue bars on my E.F.S. It wasn’t until one of the ponies said something that I stopped, holding my breath out of fear that I had betrayed myself, and switching my Pipbuck’s light off as well.

“Fuck, what the hell happened to her? I thought we left enough water for her to live off of yesterday,” one of them announced angrily. His outburst was quickly followed by the sound of something colliding hard against a wall.

“Apparently not. The other bitch probably took it from her. She don’t look like she’s suffering much,” another answered with a tone of contempt.

I finally looked at my E.F.S., and was surprised to see four bars on it, rather than the three I was expecting. There was another live pony in there with them, as well as at least one corpse.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself, cunt? Want to beg our forgiveness for taking away our other plaything?” the third raider sneered. I could easily picture him leaning in close to whoever their victim was to make himself more intimidating.

To my surprise, an angry burst of unintelligible chatter answered the raider, but it wasn’t unfamiliar to me. I’d heard it once before, spoken in almost the exact same way, but directed at a buck I had come to respect that night. The speech was zebra.

There was the sound of someone hitting what sounded like a body. “Shut up with that outlandish noise,” the first raider growled angrily, “You’re in pony lands now, bitch, so you better talk like the rest of us, or you know what happens.”

Another burst of zebra answered him, which was met with what sounded like another blow. “He told you to shut up! Can you not understand us now, either?” the third raider shouted, “Fuck, this cunt is dumber than a pile of radioactive rubble.”

“Probably still smarter than you, Dart,” the second raider said, chuckling at his own joke.

“Fuck you, Gorge,” Dart shot back angrily, then, in a more submissive tone, “So how about it, boss? Can I take her first, teach her a little lesson in manners?”

“Fuck no! You know the way things work, Dart. I get first rights, and you two can have whatever is left over. That shouldn’t be a damn surprise,” the first raider snapped.

Dart grumbled something unintelligible in response, but it didn’t sound like he was going to argue. It was the classic response I was used to seeing from raiders.

Their conversation had pissed me off, not only because they were casually discussing raping somepony, but because I was fairly certain that I knew who they were going to rape. Of course, the question of what the hell she was doing here was crossing my mind, but that was largely secondary to my need to act.

I strode out from around the corner to find myself facing a room that was lit from a few flashlights the raiders must have been keeping near the entrance where I had first come in. The lighting wasn’t great, but it was enough to make out a few details. The three raiders were gathered together, circling the huddled from of a small zebra mare.

The harsh white light was casting stark shadows against the wall, but also kept my approach in the shadows, not that I was trying to be stealthy anymore. I marched along the hall, surprised at the fact that the raiders seemed to be completely ignoring my approach. It wasn’t until I was about to step into the cone of light that one of them finally noticed me.

“Woah, what the fuck? The fuck are you doing here?” Dart exclaimed, stepping back in surprise.

Gorge immediately stepped forward, pushing the other raider back with a hoof. “Now, now, Dart. Don’t be rude to our new guest,” he said with a twisted smile, “She must be really desperate for some company if she followed us down here.”

“You’re going to let her go,” I ordered, pointing at the zebra with a hoof, completely ignoring the two raiders. My eyes were focused on their leader, since it was his decision that they were going to follow.

“Why should I? Dart and Gorge have a point, you know. We could offer some nice company. In return, you get to keep your life,” he answered with a toothy grin, revealing an incomplete set of rotted yellow teeth.

“You’re going to let her go because I am a whole lot meaner than I look, and I am more than capable of killing you if you don’t listen to me,” I growled, lowering my body slightly, “You ever hear of the raider gang south of Grovedale, up in the mountains? They belonged to me, and when they kicked me out, I went back and killed everypony that was left.”

My announcement had conjured a momentary look of fear in the raider, but it was quickly swept aside by an expression of confidence, and one that wasn’t entirely sane. He started laughing, a low, ugly sound, and his grin widened. “But you ain’t in charge of anything here. I am. So here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to ride you, and you’re going to convince me that you like it. If you do that, I’ll forget your little threat there, and you get to live. If not, well, our other friend down here just died, so we have a vacancy.”

“This is your last warning,” I growled, preparing myself to attack, “Let her go, and we all walk away. If not, you’re all dead, and that is a promise.”

All three raiders started laughing, and one of them, Dart, by the looks of it, actually felt to the ground clutching his sides. “Oh, you’re something else, cunt. I’m going to enjoy breaking you,” the boss sneered, “Dart, Gorge, hold her down.”

The two raiders circled around until they were behind me, and I forced myself to wait and let them do the hard work for me. When they moved forward to hold me, I finally moved, bucking back with my hind legs. My right leg caught Dart in the chest, forcing him back with a sharp release of breath. Gorge, on the other hoof, had taken a much lower angle of attack, and my hoof caught him square in the nose. I felt something give, and a shout of pain followed my kick.

An expression of surprise slowly wiped the smug grin from the raider leader’s face, and I saw him take a tentative step back as his two underlings collapsed, Gorge clutching at his shattered face, and Dart trying to regain his breath.

I leapt the second my rear hooves were on the ground again, barreling into the leader’s chest and forcing him to the ground. I wrapped my hooves around his neck and started to squeeze, cutting off his breath. He started to beat against my sides, making me wince in pain, but I held on. Letting go would mean my death.

The leader’s attacks grew steadily weaker, but I could see his two lackeys recovering. They would be on me in a few seconds, which gave me little choice on what to do. I readjusted my grip on the leader’s neck, giving him the briefest gasp of air, then wrenched my hooves to the side. His neck snapped with an audible crack and his body went limp, leaving me free to deal with the other two raiders.

Dart moved first, charging me with his head lowered. I sidestepped, letting his momentum carry him past me, and extended a leg, tripping him as he went by to land in a tangle of limbs atop the corpse of his leader.

Leaving Dart to disentangle himself, I turned my attention to Gorge, who was still lying on the ground, blood-soaked hooves clutching his face. I strode up to him and paused when I reached him. He hadn’t even noticed my approach and lay in a heap, his pain blinding him to everything else going on.

I was about to act when a shout of rage reached me from behind. Dart charged me from behind, holding a shard of metal in his mouth like a knife. I twisted and brought my Pipbuck to bear, blocking his awkward thrust with the hardy computer. A splash of blood on the screen revealed that there was nothing guarding the piece of metal where the raider was gripping it. It was the typical action of a raider so obsessed with the kill that they hurt themselves in an attempt to draw blood.

Dart attacked again, and again I blocked his attack with my Pipbuck, but this time I struck back. I pivoted on my other leg, swinging my hind leg around to kick Dart in the chest, making him stumble back and gasp for breath. Before he could recover, I attacked again, using my Pipbuck as a bludgeon to strike him in the head and daze him. He dropped the shard of metal as he coughed for breath, and I shoved him aside to stumble into a wall.

In the brief second I had before he regained his balance, I swept up the shard and turned to face him, and not a moment too soon. He was already charging me again. This time, I let him, but moved with him when he reached me. His momentum swept me up and against a table, sending the flashlights tumbling away and drowning us in darkness. I felt him shift on top of me, and chose that moment to strike, darting forward with the shard of metal and burying it in his chest.

Dart grunted, and the weight on top of me disappeared as he backed off. I rolled off of the table and grabbed for one of the flashlights, turning it to point at Dart. He was stumbling against a wall, one hoof clutching the piece of metal embedded in his chest, coughing up thick wads of blood. I must have pierced one of his lungs with that piece of metal.

I made my way over to the buck, keeping the beam of the flashlight focused on him and poised for any tricks he might be trying to pull, but he slid down to the ground as I approached, coughing wetly. There was no question that he was dying.

My face set in a mask of determination, I placed the flashlight on the ground, facing him, and stepped forward, pinning one of his forelegs to the ground with a hoof, and forcing the other away from the shard of metal in his chest, which I then wrenched free. A stream of blood followed it out, and Dart let out a shuddering breath and swiped at me, but the attack was weak and clumsy and hit nothing but open air.

“This is all that rapists and raiders deserve,” I growled as I knelt forward, setting the edge of the piece of metal against his throat. The look in his eye was terrified, but there was nothing in his gaze that would stop me from doing what had to be done.

I drew the shard across his throat, opening up the major veins and left him to bleed out. My attention was now solely on Gorge, the only raider left alive. He was still on the ground, but was now watching me with a terrified expression.

“Awe, come on. You don’t have to kill me! I’ll work for you, yeah! You… you’re obviously stronger than they were! I won’t give you any trouble, I swear! Now, come on, put the knife down,” he begged, the words coming out oddly through his broken nose.

“Did you rape the dead mare?” I demanded as I approached, still holding the bloody shard of metal.

“What does it matter anymore? She’s dead, and it’s a damn sight better than being a slave! Come on, we can be friends!” Gorge sniveled, holding up a hoof as if to stop my progress out of sheer force of will.

“It matters. Did you rape her?” I repeated. I was now only a few steps away from him, and could practically smell the fear coming off of him.

“Look, they made me do it, all right! It was a matter of survival! If I didn’t do what they told me, they would have killed me. You know how it works, right?” he asked, his tone becoming even more pleading.

I shook my head slowly. “It doesn’t matter. A better pony would have stood up for what is right. You’re no different than any other raider I’ve ever known, and the wasteland will be a better place without you.”

As Dart had done, Gorge attempted to stop me with a healf-hearted swing at my head with a hoof, but I had the upper hand. I blocked his clumsy attack easily with my leg, swept the leg he’d used to attack me to the ground, and broke it with a sharp twist.

Gorge let out a shriek of agony, which I ignored as I stepped forward, knocking him onto his side with a swipe of my Pipbuck. As he lay in a dazed heap, I struck with the piece of metal, burying it in his throat.

I stepped back, watching him for a moment as he clutched at the shard of metal with his good leg, trying to stem the flow of blood even as he started to cough and sputter. I turned away, focusing now on the zebra mare that was tied down, leaving the raider to drown in his own gore.

The knots holding her down weren’t complicated, and it took only a few seconds to undo them and help her to her hooves. I supported her until we were standing in the light of one of the flashlights, then let her go to collect the other one. When I returned, she was sitting on the ground, eyes fixed on me, but the gaze wasn’t a normal one. Two very familiar, milky white orbs held me pinned beneath their gaze.

“I thought it was you, Yaari,” I said, sitting down across from her, “How the hell did you end up here? Where’s Esteri?”

“Missing. I’ve been trapped here long enough that I must believe he is dead. It’s been days since I’ve felt the breath of wind,” the mare answered harshly. Even now, after I had saved her, she still hated me. “And you have not changed one bit.”

“Maybe not,” I answered with a shrug, my tone a bit more biting than I had intended, “but my skill at killing is the only reason the two of us are alive and able to walk out of this building on our own. But you didn’t tell me how you ended up here. I didn’t think Esteri would let you get captured without getting killed first.”

“He certainly tried,” Yaari practically growled at me, “We were travelling northeast when a group of slavers attacked us. Normally it would be no problem, as Esteri and I are more than capable of fighting a group like that, but something was different this time. There were far more of them than there should have been. We were separated during the fighting, and I’m not the fighter Esteri is. I was pinned and rendered unconscious. When I came to, I had this thing around my neck.” She gestured to the slave collar around her throat.

“Shit, could they have known about you and him? If they brought a force that large together, I can only imagine that they knew how dangerous you two are,” I asked as I retrieved one of the flashlights. We’d need the light to find our way out of here.

“It’s a possibility I cannot ignore,” the zebra answered, her voice becoming a bit more neutral.

“Well, we’ll figure something out. The two of us should be able to come up with some plan to get out of here,” I said, if not happily, then with at least a little more joy to my voice than I had been feeling for the last several days.

To my dismay, Yaari laughed. “Do you really think that we’ll be able to escape from this place? I may be blind, Evergreen, but even I am well aware of the walls and guns that stand between us and freedom. Escape is something that cannot be done.”

“Perfect. It should be easy then,” I answered as I started forward, following the trail of prints that had led me down here.

“What are you talking about? It’s impossible!” Yaari snapped, her hoof-steps echoing loudly on the floor as she hurried to catch up with me.

“And I’ve made a life based around doing the impossible. Also, if the guards believe it’s impossible to escape, they will be much more lax in their duties. When guards become complacent, the miss things, and those oversights are what I’m going to take advantage of to get out of here,” I answered stiffly.

“Do you really think you can do it?” Yaari asked, her voice evening out even further. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was beginning to agree with me.

“I have to. If I give up, then I’ve lost, and I refuse to do that. Seahawk will have to kill me before I stop fighting,” I growled angrily, “He’s won this fight, and it’s certainly set me back, but no more than I’ve put him back by interrupting his plans. His only advantage over me is that every plan I interrupt doesn’t personally hurt him, only his lackeys. Since the only support I have is from my friends, every single time I lose I am set back drastically, my current situation being a prime example.

We were now entering the foyer that had shown me the trail the raiders had taken. As we walked through the light streaming through the broken wall, Yaari stopped and turned her head towards the hole. Her eyes closed and I could only imagine her relishing the feel of the slight breeze against her face.

“It seems I’ve misjudged you, Evergreen. I still see a great evil, but every time you open your mouth, the complete opposite comes out. I can’t understand it,” she sighed, turning her head to face me, “And I would very much like to. It’s not normal for me to read another so wrongly.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. I had precious few allies already, and it would do no good to alienate the one possible friends I had in here. “That’s because there is a lot of evil within me. It simply isn’t something I can do anything about right now. It takes all of my strength to simply keep it at bay.”

“I don’t understand,” Yaari stated, taking a step towards me and pinning me beneath that piercing stare of hers, “How can you be aware that you are full of evil, yet still be so capable of fighting against it?”

I sat down, hanging my head to stare at the ground beneath my hooves. “Believe me, it’s not easy. Suffice to say, the evil isn’t me. It was, once, but not anymore. I simply haven’t been able to shake it. It takes all of my willpower to keep it from taking over again. I almost failed just a day or two before we met.”

“That’s not enough. What you speak of sounds like the work of the stars, and the malicious spirits that serve them. Explain, now!” Yaari growled. Every pretense of neutrality was gone from her voice. She sounded angry, and I had no illusions to the fact that she would attack me if my answer wasn’t satisfactory.

I let out a heavy sigh. I didn’t want to tell her the truth, but I also didn’t have much of a choice, at least not anymore. “All right. You sure you want the truth? It’s going to be hard to believe.”

“Tell me, Evergreen, and know that your answer will decide whether or not you survive this day. Do not mistake my lack of conventional sight to mean that I cannot defend myself,” Yaari snapped.

“You asked for it,” I answered quietly. I then proceeded to explain everything that I knew about the think living in my mind. I told the zebra how it had first infested my mind, appearing as my parents, and offering me encouragement and support. I continued with how it slowly became darker, changing from dreams I could not wait to return to, to nightmares that almost destroyed my life, leading to my banishment from Grovedale. I told her of how it had taken control over me, leading to my life with the raiders, and the dark years of murder and torture that had become my life as a result. I finished with an explanation of what we believed it was, a spirit released with the waning power of the Princesses, and how it was still fighting to turn me back to a life of death and destruction.

Throughout it all, Yaari remained deathly silent, her milky white eyes following my every motion, never leaving me for even a second. I could feel her judging me, weighing every word against what she saw in me. I could only hope that I could show her the good within me as well.

When I finally finished my tale, the zebra mare remained silent for a long time, her expression one of pensiveness. When she finally spoke, it was in very controlled tones, her accent more noticeable than usual. “You believe yourself to be fully in control over you own thoughts?” she asked. She was tense, that much was painfully obvious, and it wasn’t the sort of tension that I usually saw in frightened or confused ponies. It was the kind of tension I saw in ponies that were backed against a wall, with no other option than to fight for their survival.

“I think I am. It’s tried to twist me back to its way of thinking several times in the last several weeks, and only succeeded once because of how weak I was at the time. If it wasn’t for my friends, it would have completely regained control over me. But they were there for me, and I took control back. The last time it spoke to me was shortly before I was officially enslaved, and it backed off. I think it wants me to suffer. It thinks I’m going to come crawling back to it in desperation or something, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not going to let that happen. I’m either going to escape in full control over myself, or I’m going to die in here, with this collar around my neck,” I answered confidently, looking the mare directly in the eye.

“But so long as it lives inside you, you can never be in full control. Creatures of the mind excel at acting unseen and unheard. Even now, it may be driving you towards these acts, letting you think you are in control of yourself, until it has pushed you into a position where it can take advantage of you again,” Yaari argued. Her stance had relaxed somewhat, but she was still very much on edge.

“I refuse to believe that,” I retorted, “If you’re right, then nothing I do will have any impact, and I know from experience that that isn’t true. I beat it back before, and it will not regain control over me without a fight. Every time we’ve spoken, it has made it very clear what it wants me to do, so I make sure to do the exact opposite. I don’t enjoy killing, but I know it’s unavoidable. The difference is that that thing wants me to enjoy taking lives. I’ll admit, Yaari, after we spoke in that caravan shelter, I was pretty broken up for a few days. I saw myself as nothing more than a killer, good for nothing better than taking lives.”

“Aren’t you? The first thing I saw you do when you appeared was kill those three ponies that held me captive. For all their strength as raiders, you made it appear easy. They didn’t even land a single blow,” Yaari challenged me.

“I’m good at killing. I’ve spent five years perfecting the skill, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it, or that I don’t realize the effect it has on me or those around me. One of Shooting Star’s guards put it in terms that I’ve taken to heart. I kill because it’s necessary. I take the lives I need to take in order to protect the lives of ponies that are otherwise defenseless. I don’t have a problem killing raiders, slavers, or any other pony that thinks it’s all right to take advantage of others. Killing them makes life safer for the rest of us,” I answered, “So condemn me if you have a problem with that. At least I know I’m fighting for something better. I’m killing so that others don’t have to, and if my soul has to spend an eternity in hell for that, then so be it. At least I’ll die knowing that I’ve changed the lives of others for the better.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Yaari demanded, “You think you’re actually doing some good in this world, despite the blood and death that follow you?”

“Are the ponies I’m killing now the sort of ponies we want rebuilding the new world? They are trying to control others through force, enslaving or killing as it suits them. My parents taught me about a world in which ponies were happy for a very long time, and I’ve met a pony that has survived since those days. Even with all the regret she has towards those times, I could tell that she missed those golden years greatly. That sort of freedom is what I want for this city. I want ponies to be able to travel from town to town without fearing for their lives. If I have to kill a few dozen ponies for that, then so be it. But if you’re going to insist that I’m a bad pony simply for killing, then I’ll make sure not to kill the ponies that are about to rape you next time,” I said with a snort, then rose back to my hooves and started walking again, leaving the zebra behind.

I could understand her reasoning. Hell, I agreed with part of it, to an extent, but there had to be limits. Everything I had learned about the mare was that she saw the world purely in black and white. We could spend a lifetime debating the subject, but the harsh truth was that nothing in the world was that clear cut. There were extremes, to be sure, but every pony has some sort of redeeming quality. The deciding factor was what they chose to do with their lives.

The sound of hooves echoing off the walls made me tense up for a moment, but they weren’t hurried, so I was confident that she didn’t mean to attack me, but I made sure to keep myself ready to move should she try to surprise me. Instead, she drew up beside me and matched my pace. Together, we made our way slowly out of the structure, stopping occasionally to collect a few hunks of scrap metal and other salvage to bring out with us. When we finally emerged out into the overcast day, we had a very healthy, not to mention heavy, supply of junk stuffed into my saddlebags, and the makeshift bag we had hastily strung together for Yaari.

We started the climb out of the crater, struggling on the uncertain footing to keep from falling and injuring ourselves. The weight of the salvage made the climb difficult, and any misstep could result in a very bad injury. We were roughly halfway back to the top when we stopped for a break.

“I need to apologize for my words,” Yaari announced suddenly between panting breaths, breaking the long silence between the two of us, “I spoke unfairly and allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. The idea of this evil you are grappling with made me think of nothing but that evil, when your actions are proof of good intent. You saved my life, and I am grateful for that. Esteri often chastised me on my habit of being more severe than necessary with strangers, and it is very easy to forget those lessons when he isn’t there. If you think you can find a way out of this place, I will help you.”

I stared at the mare in shock, since I hadn’t been expecting her to say anything like that. The last time we had met, she had wanted Esteri to murder us, simply because they knew what I had been, and it had taken the buck shouting her down to get her to reconsider. She must have gone through a lot for her to have this change of heart now. “I… Thank you, Yaari. That means a lot to me. I promise, I’ll find a way out of here, and we’ll find Esteri and set things right.”

The zebra nodded curtly. “Good. There is still much to be done. Now, we have taken enough time. We should not be late.”

With a short nod of agreement, I rose back to my hooves and slung my saddlebags over my back. It weighed a lot, and I would probably curse myself later for trying to carry so much, but I did not want to be sent back down for another load.

“Well, what have we here?” the slaver drawled as Yaari and I dragged ourselves up the last few feet of the trail to finally stand on level ground before the small shack, “I was wondering where she got off to. Thought the crater killed her. Where’s you come from?”

“She was trapped beneath a section of wall that had collapsed,” I announced before Yaari could speak, shooting the mare a look that I hoped would convince her to remain quiet, if she could even see it, “I helped her get free.”

“I see. How charitable of you. Now, where’s that group of three and the old mare? I’m on a schedule here,” the slaver demanded, striding up to me, “Since you went so far out of your way to help this helpless excuse for a maggot, I’d imagine you know where the other are as well.”

I stood my ground, glaring into the slaver’s eyes, daring him to challenge me. “I don’t know where they are. Helping her took a long time, so I haven’t got a clue where the others are.”

“You sure about that, scum?” the slaver growled dangerously, leaning closer to me until the cloying smell of his breath made me start to feel nauseous, “Lying to me would be a very poor decision.”

“I’m positive,” I answered stiffly, not breaking eye contact.

The slaver snorted, the burst of air hot against my face, and so vile that I had to fight back the urge to gag, and turned around. “Fine. We’ll wait a little longer, then you maggots have to take whatever it is you’ve found back to the industrial site. They’ll decide whether or not you lot have to come back here.”

We were given a generous half hour to rest before the slaver lost his patience and gave us the order to move, using the thin whip attached to his barding as an incentive for us to drag ourselves back to our aching hooves and to pull the heavy packs back on. He then led us on a forced march back across the blasted terrain separating us from the Mill, where he left us at the gate to talk to the other guards.

The short walk felt like it had taken hours, every single step harder than the last as the weight on my back fought to drive me into the ground. Yaari was struggling to keep up with me as well, practically dragging herself along. Her head was hung low and her ears were hanging loosely about her head, but she managed to keep up with us, hard as it must have been.

At the gate, I fell into step behind the only other surviving member of our group, the young stallion who had urged me not to follow the raiders into the office building. He was the only one that seemed to know where we were going, so I gladly let him lead. Our long trek was finally nearing its end. Hopefully, we’d have a chance to rest once we arrived.

The Industrial sector was even worse than I had feared. The foul-smelling fumes assaulted us from the moment we stepped past the gates, several orders of magnitude more powerful than they were at the pen. The entire area was built like a maze, with walls and fences rising seemingly at random, making our path a twisting, difficult trek that quickly left me disoriented, despite the compass in my vision.

Everywhere, ponies were at work, either slaving away at what looked to be impossible tasks, like cutting down rusting hulks of broken-down vehicles into usable chunks of scrap or working massive pieces of what was probably extremely dangerous industrial machinery with little or no safety equipment or training, or overseeing the work of the slaves, usually through the liberal use of whips.

Our path brought us to an office overseeing the main production floor where all the scrap metal was being melted down and shaped into various pieces of more useful materials, like fenceposts, hinges, and even bullets. Standing outside of the door was a mean-looking Earth Pony stallion with a mane the color of blood and a cream-colored hide covered in splotches of naked skin, mostly scar tissue.

“Took you lazy slaves long enough. Let me see what you’ve brought,” he growled once we arrived, striding forward to meet us, only to come to a stop a few steps short. “Where the fuck are the rest of you? I was told six slaves would be bringing me salvage, not two ponies and a fucking zebra! I swear, everyone in this place is fucking useless. Regardless of what you’ve got, it isn’t going to be enough. Get back out there and bring me more!” He ordered, pulling out a police baton and striking the young stallion viciously in the head, sending him reeling.

“Drop what you’ve got in the collection area and get back out there. Move, now!” the overseer snarled, moving to swing his baton again, but we were already moving, hurrying to get out of his way and away from the arc of his weapon.

Part of my spirit was completely crushed. I had expected to get a chance to breathe. Instead, we were being sent straight back to work. My entire body was aching, from the tip of my nose to the end of my tail, and it was all I could do to even remain on my feet, yet I had to keep going. To stop would mean more injury and pain, something that would keep me from working on a way to get out of this nightmare. My entire plan hinged on not drawing attention to myself, yet I was already failing miserably in that regard. If I were to collapse, it would only mean more attention drawn towards me.

We forced ourselves onwards, dropping what we had collected in a massive pile of scrap metal and other junk. The sheer size of the pile made my contribution seem like an ant, of the non-mutated variety, offering tribute to a dragon. It was yet another blow to my spirit after how heavy my load had been on my back.

Now that the load was gone, walking was easier, and we had a chance to catch our breath was we made our way back to the gate where the slaver that was in charge of our group sat waiting, a smug look on his face. It dawned on me that he had known exactly what was going to happen, and was now taking a great deal of pleasure from the defeated looks we must have been wearing.

He led us back out into the wasteland, right back to that crater. I already hated it.

“All right, maggots, get back in there and fill up those bags! We ain’t got all day!” he shouted, cracking his whip over our heads again, hurrying us back down the trail and into the irradiated depths of the giant hole.

By the end of the day, we had made the trip between the crater and the Industrial area a half-dozen times, and every single part of my body was in a state of pain I didn’t think was actually possible. I had thought that I’d pushed myself to my limits before in the past. Now I knew that I had never come even close. Unfortunately, I was far too exhausted to take any sort of pride from that fact.

When we were finally led back to our pen and locked inside, I found the first scrap of open space and promptly collapsed, my legs no longer capable of supporting my weight. The dirt of the floor stung fiercely as it got into the weals left behind by the slavers’ whips, but the pain was secondary compared to the soreness of my muscles.

Yaari collapsed beside me, panting heavily, her limbs shaking. She didn’t have the advantage of the endurance that I had spent a lifetime building, not to mention the fact that she had spent who-knew how many days locked up in that collapsed structure. I was amazed that she had managed to remain on her feet at all.

A short time later, we were given a meager meal of pre-war food and a small cup of what I could only assume was water taken out of the dirtiest hole the slavers could find. It wasn’t much, and I finished it quickly, my stomach still growling for more.

“You shouldn’t have done that, though I suppose we can’t blame you, being new and all,” a pony near me mused as he slowly ate his meal, taking the time to savor each bite, “If you take your time, it seems more filling. You’ll be thankful for it later.”

“I’m just so hungry,” I answered tiredly, too tired to even look over and see who was speaking, “and I feel like I couldn’t stand again, no matter how hard I’m pushed.”

“Well, you’d better get used to that feeling. It’s not going to get any better,” the pony stated with a knowing smirk as he swallowed the last of his meal. It didn’t sound like he was trying to be supportive, but rather was taking pride in the fact that he knew something that I didn’t. Even in a place like this, ponies tried to find a way to get power over others.

His words sounded too much like the truth for my comfort. I was being forced to face the reality of what slavery was, and it was nothing like what I had believed. I had thought that life would be bearable if all I did was listen to everything I was ordered to do. Instead, I was being forced to the very limits of my ability. I had no clue how long I was going to be able to keep up without becoming completely burnt out.

Regardless of my limits, I was going to have to start working towards finding a way out of here, and that would require finding allies. Yaari and I would not be able to accomplish an escape alone. I would need help from a few carefully places ponies within the entire infrastructure of the Mill if I was going to get out. I could only hope that I would last that long.

Level up!
Perk Gained: Iron Hooves – Unarmed attacks now deal 20% more damage.

Skill Note: Unarmed (40)

{And here we reach the end of another chapter. This one proved much more difficult to write than I was expecting, since I am used to writing characters whose actions are not limited and are free to act as they see fit. Writing a slave is definitely something I am not used to, and I hope I’m doing an acceptable job of it. Thanks, as always, go to Kkat for the original FoE. Also, thanks to MUCKSTER for his tireless efforts at editing for me (even if he does require the occasional prod). I would also like to thank AdobE for helping me with proofreading and editing. It’s nice having another pair of eyes to look at this. Also, the hub page for the story’s GDocs can be found here.}