Fallout Equestria: Redemption
Author: Cooperdawg
Chapter 15: The Abyss
“Given enough time, even the strongest of ponies will break.”

I stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down on the wastes I knew so well. The ground stretched out to the horizon, beyond which I could see a glimmer of light reflecting off the vast expanse of the ocean separating us from the Equestrian mainland. Above me, the clouds roiled, as they had every single day of my dreary life, hiding behind them the one thing I had been yearning to see every day since I was old enough to know what I was missing.
Silhouetted in the distance was the Seaddle skyline, its broken spires reaching hungrily for the sky, like so many broken fingers trying to claw their way back into the sunshine. If I strained my eyes, I thought I could make out a small brick structure wreathed in cables and relay dishes. In my mind’s eye, I could picture a bright blue Pegasus strutting about a small radio studio, smiling to himself as he prepared for another show.
As I watched, a darkness started to grow out from the core of the city, growing and growing until everything had been swallowed by its writhing, seething mass. The darkness spread towards me, enveloping everything it touched. In just a few moments I saw the familiar shapes of Millberry, Grovedale, and even Metro get consumed by the shadows.
And yet even those places could not sate its boundless appetite.
It rushed towards me, faster and faster, until it crashed against the base of the cliff I was standing on. The impact shook the rock beneath my hooves, threatening to send me toppling into the dark mass below me. It was all I could do to keep my footing.
The darkness retreated a bit, only to come crashing back with even more force. Below my hooves, the once-solid rock started to crack and splinter. Large pieces of rock started to break off from the cliff to be consumed by the darkness, but still I stood my ground. Part of me realized that to fall would mean that everything I cared for would be lost.
A third time, the darkness retreated, then paused, gathering itself before it surged forward once again. When it struck the rock below me, I felt the blow resonate in my chest as the entire cliff face shuddered. Even more rock shattered and fell into the dark as a massive crack appeared immediately underneath me.
In desperation, I jumped back away from the ledge, praying for solid ground to land on. The instant my hooves touched the ground, the rock simply crumbled away, sliding down towards the seething darkness, and carrying me along with it. As the darkness reached out for me, I tried to scream, but no sound would come. It was in utter silence that the darkness took me, taking away everything I had ever known.

I woke with a start, my heart hammering in my chest and the muscles in my back and neck screaming in agony at the sudden movement. For a few moments I was unable to breathe as the collar around my neck bit into my flesh, sending fresh rivulets of blood coursing down my legs and chest. I lay in the silence, panting and trying to reassure myself that it had simply been another dream, another nightmare to torment me even in sleep.

Ever so slowly, my heart rate returned to normal and I was able to take normal breaths instead of gasping pants. Beside me, Yaari grumbled something in zebra and shifted her body in an attempt to get more comfortable, but soon settled back down into an uneasy sleep. For the last week, she had been the only pony, or zebra, that I had been able to speak openly with. Nobody else was the least bit interested in entertaining any of the ideas I had, and I had to be careful about who I spoke with anyway. One word in the wrong place, and I would be stuck in an even deeper hole than I was already in.

Even so, Yaari was an odd companion. Having grown up in the ancestral zebra lands, she had an entirely different outlook on life than I was familiar, and comfortable, with. What struck me as the most different between us was our beliefs. I had been raised to revere the Princesses, and while I might not be devout in expressing my belief, I certainly respected what they had represented. But Yaari saw Celestia as nothing more than a foreign monarch that chose to defer rule to her sister when the times became too difficult for her to handle, and Luna as evil incarnate.

That particular gem of knowledge had touched off a series of arguments that resulted in neither of us speaking to the other for an entire day, practically an eternity in the Mill. I simply couldn’t understand how she could believe that Princess Luna was evil. Sure, she had attempted to usurp Celestia’s rule over a thousand years ago, and had been imprisoned in the moon for a millennium, but on her return to Equestria she had become a beacon of wisdom and guidance to the common pony. Her return had been the example that anypony, no matter how bad their crimes, could be redeemed.

Yet Yaari insisted that at her core, Luna had been evil. Being locked in the moon had opened her up to the stars’ influence. She said that Luna always had the potential to become Nightmare Moon again, and that in order to free herself at all, she must have made some deal with the stars; something that in zebra legend never ended well.

In the end, we had simply agreed that neither of us was going to be swayed to the other’s point of view and had dropped the matter, but that didn’t mean that we agreed on everything else. Her past had left her with many different ideas about what a pony’s, or zebra’s life should amount to, and the ways in which those lives should be lead. Many times, those philosophies clashed directly with my own, or otherwise confused me so completely that I gave up completely on trying to understand. Why would anypony honestly want to look down on another simply because of what their eye color was? It simply didn’t make any sense.

We had found an uneasy peace in the last week, more out of necessity than out of any love for the other. I don’t know if I would call her a ‘friend’, but she was certainly someone I was glad to have around while we struggled to survive in this hellish place. It would have to do.

I was unable to find any more rest for the rest of that night, something that would haunt me over the entire work day. Rest was already so hard to come by that I dreaded the next endless hours of back-breaking labor. As the sky lightened with the dawn and the Mill slowly started to rise, I steeled myself, mentally and physically, for the coming day.

With a familiar ring, the door to the pens opened and we were ordered to fall out and line up for inspection. It was a regular routine that was deceiving in its simplicity. Sometimes ponies would be pulled out of the lineup for some reason or another and when they showed up again, if they showed up, it was with fresh cuts and bruises. To me it was simply another reason to not draw attention to myself.

I stood in my usual place in line, with Yaari on my left, the top of her mane barely reaching my shoulder, and the brown Earth Pony mare that had spoken to me before on my right. I stood silently, my head bowed and eyes fixed on the ground in front of me, waiting for the order to get to work, but it was much longer in coming than I was used to.

Raising my head in curiosity, I almost jumped back in surprise when I was met with Volt’s face mere inches from my own, a sadistic grin plastered across her face. “Morning, slave,” she stated, the grin never for a moment fading, “The Boss wants to speak with you, though I can’t possibly imagine why he wants to exchange words with such a pathetic excuse for life again.”

“Of course, Volt,” I answered with a submissive nod, bowing low enough that a few strands of my mane brushed against the ground, not that it could get much dirtier.

The purple mare snorted at me, apparently not believing my submission, but turned away all the same, starting to walk towards the gate that separated the slave pens from the slavers. I was obviously expected to follow.

As we passed into the slaver’s area, I swept my gaze across it, taking in everything and anything I could, searching for anything that might give me some sort of advantage. All I could see were the doors leading to the various buildings and outhouses, as well as the bar that was already serving a surprising number of patrons. Everything was dilapidated and rundown, but none of these ponies seemed to care. All of them were simply lounging around, drinking or tormenting the mares that were tasked with their entertainment. Even as I watched, one of the slavers approached one of the mares, a perverted grin twisting his features, and led her into one of the buildings, all to the cheers of the others around him.

The entire scene made me sick.

It wasn’t until we were approaching the doors to Eulogy’s Pad that I noticed something that might end up being useful. The large neon sign had several thick cables snaking down the wall from behind it. As Volt opened the door and waited impatiently for me to walk through, I craned my head to try and see where they led, but they twisted into an alley on the side of the building and out of my sight. The beginnings of a plan were starting to form in my mind, but I would need help.

“Look all you like, slave. This is the only glimpse of freedom you’re ever going to get,” Volt sneered as I stepped past her. She gave me a kick in the rump to hurry me through the doors as she closed them behind me, then shoved me aside and walked into the room towards the massive blue couch that dominated the main floor. A pool table stood nearby, carefully set up for a game that I doubted anypony remembered the rules for.

Eulogy was lounging on the couch, dressed in the same (or possibly different) red vest that he had worn the last time we had met. His front legs were propped up on a luxurious red cushion and a tall, slender glass filled with some clear liquid was perched on the table next to him.

“You wanted to speak to her again, Boss?” Volt asked as she approached the buck, tossing her head in my direction.

“I did. Thank you, Volt. You may return to your duties. She won’t cause any problems here,” Eulogy answered with a dismissive gesture, not even turning his gaze towards the purple unicorn.

“Suit yourself,” she snorted as she turned and strode away, shoving me roughly to the side as she did so. “Mind your manners, slave.”

“Please, Evergreen, come closer. I do so hate to yell,” Eulogy called from his couch, now turning his gaze in my direction. He looked pleased with himself, but there was a questioning look in his dark green eyes as well.

I obediently strode forward, lowering my head to the ground in the way I had learned kept ponies from being noticed by the guards, and hoped that this meeting wouldn’t end the same way the last had. As I marched forward, a glimmer of light caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I stopped mid-stride, lifting my head in confusion and fixing my glance on the source of the glimmer.

Facing me was a large mirror that had somehow survived the war and the following centuries. Its perfect silver surface hung on the wall framed in a beautiful golden molding. My breath caught in my chest at the sight, but my heart plummeted at what it contained.

My mane had lost any semblance of shape or form and hung listlessly from the top of my head, framing my face in a dirty, tangled heap. A week of accumulated dust, grime, and grit made it near impossible for me to make out any of the green streaks that I knew were there, somewhere. My hide matched my mane, the usual rich brown faded into a dull beige. Several open sores wept some foul, clear liquid; the result of not receiving any radiation medication and working in areas that were heavily irradiated.

Color aside, my hide hung on me like the flesh on a ghoul. It looked like it had simply been tacked onto me as an afterthought, as something meant to hide the bones and muscle beneath, not that there was much of the latter left. I could count every single one of my ribs sticking out from under my hide, and my legs had lost a lot of meat. The skin around my eyes and nose was drawn and pale, giving me the look of somepony that hadn’t slept in years.

My eyes were the only thing that still held any color, the fierce green looking back at me from sunken eye sockets. The whites of my eyes were stained with yellow and marked with criss-crossing red veins, giving me a sickly, weak appearance.

The collar around my neck stood out starkly, the smooth metal surface contrasting sharply with the brown of my hide. Its edges were crusted with blood, and the flesh around it was red and swollen, locking it even more in place. I couldn’t help but wince at the sight.

I looked like a slave.

“It is a beautiful relic isn’t it? One of my most prized possessions,” Eulogy intoned from his seat, his voice distant, as though he was remembering some far off time.

“Am I included in that list?” I muttered from where I stood, tearing my eyes from my reflection and fixing my gaze on the Earth Pony that was holding me captive.

“Even now you have such a high regard for your worth, dear Evergreen. You must remember that, for the moment, you are still but a slave. The price I paid for you was mostly a bounty to stop the raids against my caravans. In here, you are worth no more than any of the others you share your quarters with,” Eulogy chuckled. He was speaking haughtily, in a fashion that I imagined was an attempt to copy the old nobility. It didn’t fit our surroundings.

“Can’t blame me for thinking I’m still worth something to somepony,” I answered with a shrug, picturing a strong, blue body crowned with a brilliant orange and yellow mane in my head.

“I suppose not. After all, there are many out there that still idolize you. Despite my attempts, simply enslaving you has not diminished the tales of your successes,” Eulogy sighed, shifting from his seat and rising to his hooves. He reached out for his glass and took a sip before setting it back down.

“If I’m the same as all of them, then why am I meeting with you again? It isn’t like any of them get private meetings with you,” I asked as he approached me.

The question made the buck smile, but it held little mirth. Instead, it seemed to have amused him in the way a mole rat’s struggles amused the predator trying to eat it.

“Because you are unique, where they are not. Even after a week of living amongst them, being one of them, I can see your insistence that you are still somepony worth mentioning. No other slave has ever held on to a sense of worth that way before,” Eulogy explained, “Which in fact brings me to the reason you are here. I have given you a taste of what it is to be a slave, and you have suffered as one. The offer I made the last time we spoke still stands. Agree to it, and the pain ends. Work for me, and the collar will be removed. You will still be watched, of course, but you will be free, more or less.”

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. The life of a slave was far more difficult than I had expected, and the possibility of not having to worry about the constant pain and fear anymore was something I very much wanted. But my self-chosen curse was that I could not think only of myself. Yaari depended on me; alone, this place would chew her up. Together, we had a chance at survival.

“Sorry, Eulogy, but a little pain isn’t going to change my mind. I’ve seen too much and suffered far more than you can possibly imagine. A few whiplashes and a couple more scars aren’t going to make me betray who I am. So go ahead and zap me into unconsciousness again. The threat of pain doesn’t scare me,” I growled.

“So you would rather remain a pony that is worth nothing, and has no freedom, than to be able to call yourself a free pony?” he asked incredulously, his calm façade breaking a bit.

“You aren’t offering me freedom, Eulogy. You’re offering me a different kind of shackle.
If you were really going to set me free, you would take this collar off and open the front gates for me,” I retorted, “So I’d rather be a slave on my own terms than on yours.”

Eulogy’s expression shifted from a disinterested mask to one of incredulous surprise. He wasn’t used to being told no, and I found a certain amount of satisfaction in seeing him break down. “A slave on your own terms? Such a thing doesn’t exist! I own you! I decide what happens with your life. With a flick of my hoof I could end your very existence! And you still think you have power over your own life?”

“In a word: yes. Now are we done here? I have some work to get done. That scrap doesn’t collect itself,” I stated, putting as much condescension into my voice as I possibly could. I was well on my way to getting this pony angry, and I didn’t care. Eulogy was the pony that valued me. He wasn’t the sort of pony to kill me because I got under his skin.

Even as I watched, Eulogy’s face twisted to a study in surprise, then shock, and finally anger. “If that’s the way you see it, then I’ll make sure you get back to work,” he sneered, any pretense at being a high-class pony disappearing. For a few moments, at least, he was just another wasteland thug. “Report to Scythe in the Factory. He’ll give you your job. Now get out.”

With that, Eulogy turned away from me and strode back to his couch, where he grabbed his drink and finished it in a single gulp. I bowed submissively to him, trying to keep from grinning, and would have failed, had I not already turned and started for the door.

The slavers directed a few curious looks in my direction as I walked past them, but none moved to stop me. I was happy for that fact, since I didn’t have a clue what I would have done had one of them done something. I made it through the gate without incident and made my way towards the factory. Scythe was the cream-colored overseer that had directed my scrap-collecting group back to the crater my first day here. I had yet to hear him speak in anything but a yell.

“Why the fuck are you in my office, maggot?” Scythe screamed as I pushed why through the swinging door. The office was bare, with only a desk, a small table covered with old liquor bottles, and a weapons rack loaded down with all sorts of inventive melee weapons, one of which was his namesake.

“Eulogy’s orders, sir,” I answered, bowing my head to the slaver, “All he told me was to report to you. I wasn’t told what my duties would be.”

Scythe snorted, rising to his hooves and reaching for a whip that had small length of barbed wire attached to it. “So you think you can just walk into my office like you own the fucking place? You’ve got a thing coming, you ignorant piece of shit!” He shouted around the whip.

I instinctively stepped back, but Scythe was a master when it came to tormenting slaves. The whip cracked and I couldn’t help but cry out in pain as it bit against my left side. Warm blood flowed from the furrows dug out by the barbed wire and I stumbled back against the door.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean any offense! I was just following orders!” I whimpered, curling up on myself.

“You’re sorry? How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel better, maggot?!” Scythe shrieked as he cracked the whip again, opening up another wound on my other side, an almost exact mirror of the first.

“I was just told to report to you! I didn’t want to get caught for being lazy!” I cried, any attempt at showing any sort of mind of my own gone. The pain of the two whiplashes was all-consuming.

“Hmph, I highly doubt that,” Scythe grunted, but he did lower the whip, “If Eulogy wants you working for me, I think I know exactly what task he wants done. Get on your hooves and follow me. Don’t fall behind.”

He strode past me, coiling the whip up and hanging it from his barding. I remained completely motionless until he was past me and through the door, then quickly pulled myself to my hooves and followed after him. He led me through the maze of fences and workers to a massive machine.

“This is one of our two working smelters. Your job is going to be making sure that the molds on the conveyor are in usable condition. Hemlock will be overseeing your work. If I hear anything about you slacking off, you’ll wish you’d never been born. Am I clear?”

“Absolutely, sir,” I answered, nodding vigorously.

Scythe snorted disbelievingly, but turned and walked away, leaving me standing on my own. Unsure of what to do with myself (there was no sign of any other pony nearby, and I was completely turned around) I simply walked a little closer to the machine, trying to get an idea of how it worked. It was roughly cubical in shape, with a massive opening at the top where the scrap would be dumped in. Next to me, at about chest height, was another opening that fed out into a conveyor belt that doubled as a mold, shaping the melted metal into ingots that could later be worked into other things.

I was so engrossed in my study of the machine that I didn’t notice the approach of another pony. “So Scythe is finally giving me someone else to help out over here, huh?” a strong, and attractive, voice asked.

He caught me completely off guard, and I almost pulled a muscle in my neck when I turned to face him. I did, however, open up a few more cuts from the damned collar. “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not working! I wasn’t told where anything was and Scythe just left me here! I’m looking for Hemlock,” I stammered out. Part of my mind realized that I was acting much more skittish and frightened than normally, but the wounds I had just received from Scythe were still bleeding, and the memory of what had caused the injury had me feeling a little defensive. Sucking up to these ponies for a time, at least until I figured out the rules that they lived by, wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

“Calm down, new blood. He treats every new slave like this. I’m Hemlock, by the way. I’m guessing you’re supposed to be helping me run this thing?”

I nodded dumbly, finally getting a good look at the pony. He was a light blue unicorn, but had the build of an Earth Pony used to hard labor. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was at least as strong as Steel Curtain was. A pale yellow mane, kept cut close to his head, was the perfect accent to his blue eyes. He was wearing a simple black vest, whose only purpose I imagined was to keep the straps of his saddlebags from chafing against his hide. What surprised me the most was the slave collar around his neck.

“You’re a slave as well?” I asked, unable to keep a note of surprise out of my voice.

“That’s right. Been doing this job long enough that Scythe more or less leaves me alone. I don’t usually get much help, which unfortunately means I know exactly what job he wants you to do,” Hemlock answered with a nicker and an uneasy smile.

“What do you mean? It looks simple enough: Just collect scrap and drop it down that chute up there, right?” I asked, waving a hoof at the scaffolding that would let a pony climb up to the chute at the top of the smelter.

“Yup, but that’s my job. Your job is to make sure the molds are all in good condition and to keep any of the metal from being wasted, and we aren’t given any sort of protective gear,” Hemlock explained, “The last pony they sent to help me ended up being carted off after only a few hours. The burns to her legs were too much for her to keep going.”

My jaw dropped in shock. This was basically a death sentence. “How the hell do your job alone then?”

Hemlock shrugged. “My job isn’t to keep the molds in order. They usually send a pony over once a week or so, just often enough to keep up with the rate the molds deteriorate in, but they never last long. Sorry, new blood, but that’s just the way things work down here. Now, once I drop this heap of scrap in up there and start the machine up again, it will start running automatically. You’ll only have a few seconds to inspect the molds before the metal flows, and replace it with one from that pile there. Put any cracked or warped molds into another pile so we can melt it down as scrap. If you’re too slow, the metal will just flow onto the belt itself. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”

I looked at the side of the machine where the pile of molds were. I made my way next to them and looked into the belly of the smelter. The very next mold to be used had a fairly large crack running through it, and would need to be replaced. If I was quick, this job shouldn’t be too hard or taxing. It would be hot, sure, but if I didn’t make any mistakes, I should be all right.

Before Hemlock had a chance to start up the machine, I grabbed a mold from the top of the pile and swapped it out for the broken one. It fit perfectly, and the process took me no more than a second, more than enough time for me to grab another and get it ready to put in place as soon as the first had moved, should it be necessary. No, this shouldn’t be too difficult at all.

With a loud grinding and belching noise, the smelter came to life, releasing a cloud of oily black smoke out of the opening right next to me, making me cough and my eyes water from the toxic fumes. A wave of heat followed that sucked the air out of my lungs. It took me a few seconds to force a full breath of air, and by then, the conveyor was already moving.

I barely managed to replace the next broken mold before the red-hot metal filled it. A hiss of pain escaped my lips as the intense heat from the metal washed over my legs. I thought I could already feel blisters starting to form.

Mechanically, I continued working, again barely in time for the next expulsion of red-hot metal. The temperature never let up. If anything, the constant disgorging of metal was making it hotter, and what sweat I did manage to work up instantly evaporated from my hide. Every breath felt like I was swallowing sandpaper, and my mouth quickly became dry, my tongue feeling like a lump of wood in my mouth.

It didn’t take long for the repetition of my work to become automatic. Reach for mold, wait for a deformed one and replace, reach for another mold, repeat. Anything that had a crack or other deformity, I would simply toss aside to be gathered later. The only thing that made it hard was the unceasing heat. The pain from my legs had long since been reduced to a dull throbbing that I had pushed to the back of my mind. Thinking about my pain would only make things worse.

I had become so engrossed in the timing of my work that I was shocked when the smelter shut down with a sudden grinding, accompanied by the sound of something popping and the smell of burnt circuitry.

“Damn it all! Now what the fuck am I going to do?!” Hemlock shouted from somewhere above me. His voice sounded tired, but his frustration made any hint of exhaustion seem meaningless.

I turned to ask him what was wrong, but was caught by surprise when my legs refused to respond and I went sprawling, sending molds sliding all over the place with a loud clatter. I looked down at my forelegs in surprise and was shocked to find myself looking down at the dried leather of bare, and dehydrated, skin, pockmarked with blisters. They looked to be only a short time away from gaining a truly bad burn. The constant heat had singed away the fur of my legs and basically cooked the skin. It was no surprise that walking was difficult.

I shifted them, and nearly cried out at the sharp pain that resulted. Instead of a shout, it was a more of a moan, but was still loud enough to draw Hemlock’s attention.

“Shit, new blood! Are you all right?” he asked with genuine concern, rushing down the scaffolding to stand near me. His hide had been blackened by the constant smoke hanging about the top of the smelter, but seemed otherwise the worse for wear.

“Argh, the pain,” I groaned, “I can barely move my legs.”

Looks exactly like what happened to the other mare,” he commented sympathetically, “Lucky for you, I managed to get my hooves on a couple of healing potions for just this problem. Slavers know that ponies are going to get hurt doing this job, so they give me just enough medicine to keep you working for the day.” He trotted over to a table nearby and retrieved a vial of that beautiful red liquid.

He unstoppered it for me and held it up to my lips. I drank greedily, relishing the taste of it and the feeling returning to my legs. The fur didn’t grow back, but at least the inflammation disappeared and the blisters healed, giving me the ability to at least walk again.

“Well, now that you’re taken care of, we have a bigger problem. Some of the circuitry in this damn thing fried, which means it’s just a pile of so much junk. If we can’t get it fixed, we’re both fucked, my friend,” Hemlock explained, waving his hoof at the smelter, “Scythe will kill me if I don’t meet the day’s quota, and if I die, you can sure as hell be sure that you’ll be following me.”

“Isn’t there somepony we can talk to that knows how to fix it?” I asked, rising to my hooves and facing the unicorn.

“There might be somepony down in maintenance, but they have so much else to get done that they won’t have time to get down here to work on it,” Hemlock explained.

“What if we offer them that?” I asked, nodding my head to the other healing potion that Hemlock had pulled out of the table drawer.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! You need that if you want to walk once we’re done here!” Hemlock protested.

“And we both need it if we’re going to survive the day. Will offering them that give them the incentive to come down here and fix the damn thing?” I demanded, “Because I would rather suffer from some Princesses-damned burns than to get myself killed!”

Hemlock hesitated for a moment, fixing me in a confused stare. “You are not like most,” he finally muttered, “Yeah, it should convince one of them to come down here, but I have some other work to get done. You’ll need to bring it down. Take that passage to wherever it lets you out, then turn left. The maintenance wing is at the end of that passage,” Hemlock explained, pointing the way out to me.

“I’ll be back soon,” I said, stepping over to the table and grabbing the healing potion. I didn’t have any saddle bags, so I had to carry it in my mouth.

Now it was simply a matter of making it look like I had every right to be doing what I was doing. There were a hundred different ways this could backfire, but as Hemlock had said, we were dead if we didn’t get that smelter up and running again. The slavers here weren’t the sort to be understanding about a mechanical failure.

To my amazement, I managed to make my way all the way to the maintenance area without anypony stopping me. I was given quite a few angry stares, but I was careful to maintain the posture that I had been given orders and was hurrying to see them carried out. Even the slavers were smart enough not to interfere with a slave on a job. Getting into the maintenance area, however, was going to be particularly more difficult.
Two slavers were sitting outside the passage to the small area, playing cards. When I approached, they immediately stopped their game and faced me.
“Well what do we have here?” one of them, a dirty red unicorn mare, sneered, “What are you doing here, slave? I don’t recall asking for a healing potion.”
“I was sent to speak to the ponies in maintenance,” I answered swiftly, depositing the potion on the ground. I had learned on my second day that speaking to a slaver while something was in my mouth was a sure way to get myself beat.
“On whose orders?” the other, a grey Earth Pony buck demanded, taking a step towards me and reaching for a baton with a foreleg.
“Scythe’s. The smelter where I’m working broke down, and we need somepony from maintenance to come fix it,” I answered quickly.
Dropping the massive slaver’s name did the trick. The two guards here shared a worried look even as they stepped back from me. “Ah, I see,” the mare muttered, “Well, I ain’t going to get in the way of Scythe’s business. Head on in and then get out. We don’t want you here any longer than necessary.”
I nodded my acknowledgement and retrieved the healing potion before trotting past them. The workshop they had been guarding was populated with only three ponies. Two of them were Earth Pony bucks laden down with a variety of normal tools that were hunched over a bench working on some piece of machinery. The last was a unicorn mare with a pink hide that was working on what looked like a collar. Instinct drove me towards her, and I wasn’t going to deny the luck of finding somepony that seemed to know how the collars worked.
“Hey, I need your help with something,” I announced as I approached, setting the healing potion down on the bench next to her.
“Bother one of them. I’m busy,” she snorted at me, not even lifting her head from her work, nodding quickly in the general direction of the two bucks.
“Considering that fact that you look like you actually know what you’re doing, I’d rather talk to you,” I answered, “Unless you want to get in the way of Scythe’s operations.”
As it had before, the overseer’s name got results. The mare sighed and looked up at me. A vicious scar cut across her face, the knotted flesh scrunching up part of her muzzle, giving her a permanent lopsided grin. “I’d be careful dropping his name like that. The fact that you have a healing potion with you makes me think he didn’t order you to come down here at all.”
“Strictly speaking, he didn’t. But I’m working for him, and the machine we need to get our work done has broken down. I need your help to get it running again or both my partner and I are fucked,” I answered, “Take the potion as payment to get it done now.”
“Time-sensitive job?” She asked, reaching out for the potion. I put a hoof out to stop her.
“We have a quota to meet by the end of the day. It’s yours if you’ll help,” I answered.
She stared me down for a few seconds, measuring me with her stony grey gaze, then nodded. “Done. Lucky for you I’m one of the ponies around here that actually knows how to work on this kind of shit. Now let me guess what the problem is: One of the smelters blew a conductor to one of the heating elements?” She reached for the potion again. This time I let her.
“I smelled burnt circuitry. Couldn’t even begin to tell you where it was coming from. That’s never been my job,” I answered, thinking of Crosswire.
“Still better than most would have been able to tell me,” the mare grumbled as she collected a few materials, “Now let’s go. I have to make sure to have that done before the end of the day.”
“Why are -,” I started, before being cut off by the mare.
“Not in front of the guards,” she snapped, clouting me around the ears as she walked past me, saddlebags loaded down with all sorts of implements and materials.
I followed after her, rubbing my head with a hoof, waiting until we were away from the guards and seemingly alone in the passages. “Why were you working on a collar?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
“Because somepony around here needs to build the new ones. Now don’t go and get any ideas,” she snapped, “Talk like that is what gets ponies in trouble around here.”
It was already too late to stop me from getting ideas. “You know how to get one off, don’t you?”
She stopped midstride and rounded on me, putting a hoof to my chest to stop me dead in my tracks. “Do you even know what the fuck you’re asking?” she hissed, keeping her voice hushed, “If any of them even get a hint that you even said that, you’ll be dead! First you drop Scythe’s name as a way to bully your way past some guards, and now you’re asking me this shit! How stupid can a pony get?”
“Stupid enough to know that I can find a way out of this place, but I can’t do it alone. This collar I’m wearing is a shock collar. I won’t be able to escape if they can stop me in my tracks with the press of a button. At the very least, I need somepony to disable the shocker and the explosives. I’m not asking you to remove it, just to tinker with it,” I argued.
The mare gave me a shocked look. “You haven’t got a fucking clue who I am! I could turn you in right now and live the high life for a few days for calling you out,” she growled.
“But you aren’t going to,” I retorted, holding her gaze, “I’m not some frightened Stable-pony that’s scared of getting hurt. I was born out there, and I’ve survived far more shit than most ever have to witness. I have a reason for wanting to get out beyond wanting my freedom back. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I think I understand better than you expect,” the mare stated in return, her voice evening out somewhat, “But give me one good reason I shouldn’t turn you in.”
“You hate them all as much as I do. Any chance to show Eulogy that he’s fallible is something you want. I’ve heard it said that ponies can’t escape from this place. Help me do just that, and you’ll know that he can be beaten,” I answered, putting just a bit of pride into my voice.
“I’m not going to do it for nothing,” she growled at me, though she did lower her hoof.
“I don’t expect you to. Here’s the deal: You get one of my healing potions every day for the next week. Once that’s done, you’ll pop this thing off, do whatever you need to do with the wiring to make sure they can’t kill or incapacitate me with it, then put it back on. That’s when I’ll make my move.”
She shook her head slowly. “You’re only going to give yourself a week to come up with a plan to get out of here? It’s never going to work. Here’s my offer: You give me ten healing potions, and I’ll fuck with your collar whenever the hell you’re ready to try to get out of here. If you think you can do it, you’ll need more than a damn week to put a plan together, not that you’ll succeed. And when you get caught, your better not fucking rat me out.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I agreed with a smile, stepping past her, “Now come on. All of this is moot if we don’t get that smelter working again.”
The mare muttered something unintelligible under her breath, but followed after me. From the look on her face, the words hadn’t been particularly polite.
Together we made it back to the smelter where Hemlock was just returning with a fresh load of scrap. He deposited his bags at the base of the scaffolding and watched us approach.
“I’ve got to admit, new blood, I didn’t think you’d actually pull it off,” he drawled, and odd smirk on his face.
“When I say I’m going to do something, I do it,” I retorted, “You know where this thing blew out?”
“Fuck if I know. All they have me do is run the damn thing. Haven’t got a clue how all the pieces fit together,” the buck answered.
“Just get out of my way and let me see. I know these things better than either of you,” the maintenance mare growled, shoving her way past me and approaching the machine.
Hemlock eyed her, his gaze traveling all along her body, and a wicked grin spread over his features. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said with a smile, taking a step back to let her pass. He sidled past her, approaching me, and I could see his eyes roaming across her flanks, stopping for several seconds as he peered between her legs. I really wanted to kick the bastard square in the jaw, or perhaps somewhere a bit more precious.
“Lay off the mare and let her save our asses, Hemlock,” I snapped, “It was enough of a rip-off for her to take my potion.”
“Just enjoying the view, new blood. Buck like me doesn’t get to spend much time with mares.”
“Here’s the problem,” the maintenance mare announced, “Thing’s temperature is set way too high. It melted the casing of the conductor. I can fix it, and will need to turn the temperature down a couple hundred degrees if we don’t want it happening again. I suggest you let Scythe know as soon as possible. He won’t be happy, but he’s smart enough to realize that we can’t push the machines so hard and keep them running reliably.”
“Will we meet our quota for the day? I’d rather not die ‘cause we had to turn the heat down,” Hemlock demanded.
“Depends on what your quota is. Honestly, for the kind of metal you’re melting, this thing was way overheated anyway. Chances are your production won’t be slowed down at all. Few seconds per load, at most.”
“Hmph, fair enough,” Hemlock muttered, “How long is it going to take you?”
“Ten minutes, at most. Hard part is where the damn thing is placed. Just need to… hrg… get my hooves in there,” she grunted as she twisted her body to reach the piece, “You two might want to take a short break. I won’t be long.”
True to her word, the mare finished fixing the machine within a few minutes. While Hemlock dragged his bags of scrap up to the top of the machine, she pulled me aside.
“We’re all in the same pen at the end of the work day. Find yourself a vest and use it to smuggle your potions out to me. I’ll find you there,” she told me, then walked away before I could get another word in.
“All right, new blood, we’re ready to get rolling again! You ready down there!” Hemlock called out to me.
I watched the maintenance mare for a few more seconds, the turned and trotted over to my place at the base of the machine. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I called back. By sheer luck, I had found a solution to what I thought was the biggest problem facing me. Now all that was left was to work on the beginnings of the idea that I had started to form this morning.

With the adjustments the maintenance mare had made, my work was much more bearable. It was still hot, but I no longer felt like I was being cooked alive simply by standing so close to the smelter. Since I was no longer in near as much pain, the worked progressed a lot quicker, and I was actually surprised for a moment when Hemlock had to break to retrieve more scrap.
During that short “break” I had to collect all of the busted molds and march them down to one of the production sites to be repaired. It was a long walk, and Hemlock was waiting impatiently on me when I finally returned. No words were exchanged, but we simply got back to work.
This process repeated itself several times throughout the day, with the breaks coming at the perfect times for me to get away from the smelter to cool down. My legs were still burnt, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been the first time, and I was actually capable of walking on them.
As the light began to dim with the coming night, Hemlock finally announced that we were done for the day, and that we had met our quota. I was exhausted, but knowing that things were starting to come together for me was a definite boost to my morale that gave me just enough energy to keep going.
“All right, new blood, before you get excited, you need to get down to Scythe’s office and let him now about the machine. Since it was your brilliant plan to get it fixed, it’s your responsibility to tell him,” Hemlock ordered me, putting a hoof in front of me to keep me from walking away.
“It’s your machine. Why don’t you tell him?” I argued, “I don’t see why it should be my job.”
“It’s your job because I told you so,” Hemlock growled, moving around in front of me, an ugly sneer marring his handsome face, “and I’ve got an… appointment… to keep in the pens.”
“I’m not going to be your scapegoat so you can go rape some unlucky mare,” I snapped, pushing my way past him.
Hemlock let me past, and I thought that would be the end of it, but he caught me by surprise when he jumped me from behind, wrapping his hooves around my neck and forcing me to the ground. My cry of shock died in my throat.
I fought viciously, throwing my head back in an attempt to stun him and hitting him in the side with my forelegs, hoping to force him to let up the pressure a bit. He had me in a perfect headlock, and it seemed like my struggles were in vain.
But Hemlock didn’t have a clue of how to truly render a pony defenseless, and in true stupid fashion decided to lean in close to my ear to whisper something. Before he even got the first word out, I turned my head and bit down, catching his ear between my teeth, then twisted.
His shriek of pain was deafening, but it did cause his grip to loosen up. I let his ear go and twisted my entire body, breaking free of his weakened hold, and rolled to the side, coming to my hooves in a single smooth motion. Even with my exhaustion, fighting was simply second nature to me, and I simply reacted.
Hemlock didn’t move a muscle, but simply lay where he was, clutching his head with a hoof. I could see a small trickle of blood coming from under where he was holding. I knew I hadn’t torn it off, but a small part of me was happy to see the bastard hurting.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” I growled.
“I’ll tell him you used a potion to get the smelter fixed,” was the panted reply.
“And why should I care?”
“Because then he’ll only give me one a day for you, instead of two. Then where will you be?” Hemlock asked, getting shakily to his hooves. His ear was definitely still attached, but I had caused a small tear near its base that would make it hang a little lower than the other all the time. It gave him a somewhat lopsided appearance.
I kept the buck pinned beneath my stare, trying to come up with something to argue with, but he had a point. I was going to need at least one of those potions every day to keep myself in working condition, and the other was my payment to the maintenance mare. If I lost one of them, I would be in serious trouble. “Fuck you, Hemlock,” I snapped, “Only because I need those potions.”
With that, I stalked off, leaving the buck behind me. I could feel his stare boring me in the back with every step until I turned a corner. I had just made myself an enemy. Only time would tell what kind.

As I came up to Scythe’s office, I couldn’t deny that I was nervous. The last time I had spoken to him, he had beat me for a reason so minor that I believed he would make up a reason to hurt me again. If he had heard about me using his name to get things done, it would probably turn out much worse for me than a few lash marks, no matter how painful those were.
By the time I was in front of his door, I was visibly shaking. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, raised a hoof, and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” his deep voice intoned, holding the promise of pain in its deep rumble.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside, keeping my eyes glued on the floor. Immediately, I could feel the buck’s displeasure. It felt like a palpable thing, hitting me in the chest in time to my racing heart.
“What the fuck do you want? The work day is over,” he growled. I heard the creaking of wood as he rose from his chair. His hoofsteps sounded like war drums pounding in my ears.
“I… I needed to report on the smelter,” I stammered out, my mouth suddenly very dry. I licked my lips in an attempt to calm myself. It wasn’t like me to lose it like this. Something about this buck simply made me fear him on an instinctual level. “It broke down earlier: the conductor to the heating elements blew out. A pony from maintenance came down to fix it, but had to dial back the temperature a bit, otherwise it would have just broken again. We still met our quota, but it is a little slower than before.”
“So you came into my office to tell me that something broke, and is now slower than before? Is there at least any good news?”
“Um… unless we try to push the smelter past where it is now, it shouldn’t break down again for a while?” I offered, lifting my head slightly to look at Scythe. He was standing closer to me than I had fought, with barely two feet separating the two of us. There was a frown on his face, and a malicious shine in his eyes. What scared me more was the hunger I saw in his gaze. It was unwavering, pinning me in place as his eyes explored my body. I wanted nothing more than to turn on the spot and run.
“No. I’ll tell you the good news, slave. You’re here, which saves me the trouble of having to find you. Do you want to know something absolutely fascinating that I learned today? A buck guarding the maintenance area came up to me and asked me if I had sent a pony down there. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise since I ordered no such thing.”
My stomach felt like it flipped over itself, making me feel nauseous. I took a step backwards, wanting to throw up, but afraid of what would happen if I did.
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” Scythe shouted.
I froze.
“You dropped my name as a way to fix that machine. You used me as a way to protect yourself. I DO NOT appreciate that kind of dishonesty in my slaves. Do you know what this means, slave?”
I shook my head, instantly regretting it as my stomach started to rebel. I fought it back down, managing not to throw up, but couldn’t bring myself to speak.
“ANSWER ME!” he screamed, small flecks of spittle landing on my face and making me wince back.
“N….n-no sir,” I finally managed to force out. I had never been this terrified before. My limbs had completely locked up and it was all I could do to keep the massive buck in my gaze. This was beyond the flight-or-fight response. I would be surprised if my body would let me do anything beyond cower.
“It means you need to be punished,” he growled, a deep, rumbling sound that reminded me of the thunder preceding a heavy lightning storm.
The first blow caught me completely by surprise. It landed on the side of my head and snapped my head painfully to the side, so suddenly that the collar didn’t immediately turn with it and cut painful wounds into my neck. I fell to the side, coughing and retching in equal measure, and finally lost the battle with my stomach, vomiting all over the floor.
A grunt of disgust came from behind me, and I heard the sound of something being lifted from the wall. The whip lash bit deeply into my side, and I screamed in pain. It became all too clear in that instant the Scythe had barely nicked me with the whip earlier that day. Now he was really laying into me, determined to cause as much pain as possible. I screamed again as the whip struck me on the other side.
I quickly lost count of how many times he hit me, but every time hurt more than the last. I was lying limp on the ground, sobbing openly and completely covered in blood when I heard him put the whip down.
“What would you say, slave? Have you been punished?” he growled at me. If anything, he sounded more worked up than before.
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again,” I forced out, the words broken up by my sobs.
“I don’t agree. You think you can use me as a way to do what you want. I need to show you who’s truly in charge out here,” he snapped. I heard him take a few steps forward until he was perched over me. “This will teach you who truly holds the power over your life.”

I had made it so far in life without anypony ever successfully taking advantage over me. In that moment, all of those years amounted to nothing as Scythe pinned me to the ground. The first unintelligible grunt was the prelude to my worst nightmare as he thrust into me. Thankfully, the pain of my injuries coupled with his complete lack of concern for my wounds caused me to quickly black out.

My world was pain. Consciousness returned only slowly, and the only thought I could form in my mind was that I wanted the bliss of unconsciousness to claim me again. Every twitch of my muscles sent another lance of fire screaming across my body. But fate was not kind, and I remained awake.

I tried to force the pain from the front of my mind and bring myself back under control. I wasn’t certain that I’d be able to do it, but slowly, the pain faded and I was able to breathe. I realized I was lying on a bed, rather than the cold, hard ground, but that fact didn’t strike me as odd.

When I was finally able to form a complete, coherent thought that wasn’t focused on my pain, the full realization of what had happened to me struck home. Memories of the experience came rushing back, flooding my mind with the sensations and emotions that had been writhing inside of me during the entire ordeal before unconsciousness had claimed me.

Most of the pain I was feeling came from between my legs, and I could only imagine how long Scythe had continued after I had passed out. I shuddered violently, the movement sparking another wave of pain from my physical injuries. I had failed in a way I’d never failed before. Years of living in danger, one of the few mares in a Raider gang, and I had managed to keep them at a distance that whole time. And now, from a single stupid slip, I had let that slaver rape me. I had let a fucking slaver get into my head and make me think I couldn’t fight back, and I had paid the price.

Tears sprung to my eyes, hot and stinging as they poured down my cheeks. I was completely worthless. What kind of goddamn savior was I if I couldn’t even protect myself from a fucking brute? I deserved what he had done to me, because I was too stupid to put myself in a position to prevent it. I had killed dozens of ponies like him, and what had I done when he threatened me? I cowered in the corner and let him have his way with me. It was fucking pitiful.

I was asking to ponies to trust me, to believe in me, and for what? To believe that I was capable of defeating an enemy a thousand times more powerful and dangerous than a simple thug working for some slaver? And I wasn’t even capable of fighting one of them off. Maybe getting captured was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. It put me in my place, made me realize that my life truly was worth nothing. Greymane was right when he told me that I was just another pony overreaching myself. What hope did I have of winning against a force like the one Seahawk commanded? I might as well have been trying to fly above the clouds. No matter how hard I tried, or struggled, I would always fall short. It was simply the way of things.

“She’s finally waking up. Scythe really messed her up badly, boss. I don’t know how well she’s going to recover,” a rough, though not unkind, voice intoned.

“You’re going to make sure she recovers, Bone Saw. Use our medical supplies if you have to. That mare is too valuable to me to simply let die. Save her life, or it’s yours on the line,” a familiar voice snapped back.

The sound of hoofsteps approached my bed, and I cracked an eye open to see who was coming towards me. I was surprised to see Eulogy, in his classic red vest, standing beside me.

“You made a big mistake, Evergreen, though I’m sure you realize that. Scythe is a mean bastard, but his talents at keeping a workforce motivated are almost unrivaled. I hope you learned that you shouldn’t antagonize him,” he said softly. If I wasn’t so certain of his contempt for me, I would have thought that he actually cared about me.

“Of course, sir. I was completely out of line. I deserved my punishment. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“I don’t believe you,” he answered with a snort, “You aren’t the sort of pony to think that disobeying your captors is wrong. I don’t think you ever have been, so don’t lie there and lie to me.”

“I swear, sir, I won’t disappoint him again!” I pleaded, tears coming to my eyes again.

“Now that, I know, is the truth,” Eulogy said with a satisfied smirk, “I’m going to come clean with you: I lied before. You are valuable to me. I spent a lot of caps to get you here, and I consider it an investment. I can’t let you die until I get a return on that investment, and the only way to do that is to make sure that the entire Wasteland knows what’s become of you. If you die before then, it won’t matter. My power will come from the knowledge that I can contain you and control you. If all you do is die within a week of coming here, then that means nothing. So listen to me, and listen to me carefully, Evergreen. You are going to survive. I command it, and as my property, you are going to listen.”

The last words were spoken in a whisper, no more than a few inches from my ear. They sent a shiver through my spine, and I felt the cold grip of fear around my heart. I peered up at the slaver, seeing the grim mask that was his expression. This pony was powerful, and there was no doubt in my mind that he would fulfill every promise he had made. If I screwed up, he could do far worse things to me than merely kill me.

He snorted again before he turned and walked away, quickly disappearing from the room to return to whatever work he had interrupted to see me. He was quickly replaced by Bone Saw, the thin, sickly Earth Pony medic that tended to the slavers, and the few slaves they deemed valuable enough to receive medical treatment.

“I’d make a serious effort to listen to him, slave,” he mused as he worked on me, cleaning out the wounds on my back and wrapping them in actual, clean bandages, “If Eulogy wants something, he usually gets it. He maintains this illusion of being a gentlepony, but I’ve seen him get mad. Even Scythe knows better than to get the boss mad.”

I said nothing, reflecting instead on what had been said. Eulogy had just proven to me that nothing I did was ever going to make much of a difference. I had resisted him, pushed his offers aside in some mule-headed attempt to prove that I could maintain my individuality.

I had thought that surviving as a slave would be easy. All a pony needed to do was listen to the slavers and they’d be fine. But I hadn’t predicted the everyday troubles of needing to get something repaired, or needing to get access to resources that a slave simply couldn’t reach. What I had truly miscalculated on was the cruelty and malice of the guards and slavers themselves. I had thought that they’d be just like most other ponies in the wasteland; mean, but at least reasonable. But they viewed slaves as just so much chattel, to do with as they pleased. It was truly eye opening, and in that revelation I found a fear that I didn’t know I could feel. With every passing minute, the prospect that I had believed escape was even close to possible became more and more ridiculous.

Before long, Bone Saw had finished with his work and left me alone. The wounds on my sides and back were healed, but there was still a stain on my soul, a stain that I doubted I would ever be able to remove, no matter how much time I was given.

The medical advances caused by the Great War between Equestria and the Zebra nation were truly miraculous. I had ended up in the infirmary with many deep lacerations and a lot of serious bruising, and within thirty hours, Bone Saw had me recovered to the point where he deemed me ready to return to work.

As soon as the declaration was made, I was forced to my hooves and pushed out the door. I had really lost track of time. Night was already falling, and I could see a line of ponies making their way back to the slave pens. I hung my head and started towards them. It was time to focus on survival. If I couldn’t get out, at the very least I could ensure that I didn’t hurt myself any more than I already had. Fighting back would only get me hurt more.

The slavers allowed me to pass without comment, then slammed the iron door closed behind me. Amongst the slaves, I heard a few mutterings that sounded vaguely like they believed I was dead. Who could blame them? I had been missing for a long time.
I stood silently where I was, looking over the room with tired eyes. I don’t know what I was looking for, but I didn’t find it, and I sighed heavily, pushing my way past the ponies lying by the door until I was outside. Even then, I couldn’t find any peace. The dark night sky seemed to be mocking me, the weight of all those clouds settling on my shoulders, whispering in my ear that none of my struggles had ever cause any difference, that in a few years, everything I had ever done would be forgotten, and any small change I might have caused would be undone.

I started to cry again, an empty, meaningless reaction to a life that had come to nothing in return. I simply felt empty inside, like something had come by and drained me of everything good that I believed in. Looking at the sky, I couldn’t help but wonder why I had thought that our lives held any value at all.

For all my life, I had believed that the Princesses were still looking down on us, still influencing out lives, and I wanted to believe that they still cared about us. But now, looking up at the dark expanse of clouds above me, I realized just how little any of that meant. The Princesses were dead and gone, killed in their castle over two hundred years ago. What was a pair of corpses going to do for a pony like me? Even if their souls had somehow lived on, why would they possibly want to help ponykind after we had fallen so far? The Equestria I had learned about had been a land of trust and friendship for a far longer period of time than anypony had any right to think was possible, and now look at us. Ponies would rape and kill another if they stood to gain the least amount of power or profit from it.

“Evergreen, are you all right?” a soft, concerned voice asked from beside me.

I turned my head to face Yaari, the milky white orbs that stood in for her eyes glowing with reflected light. The zebra mare was actually concerned about me, though I couldn’t possibly imagine why. She had never liked me, and our conversations had proved beyond a doubt that we shared more differences than similarities.

“You were right, Yaari,” I muttered, “about everything. We’re never going to escape this place. It’s over. They won.” I lowered my head again, closing my eyes in an attempt to get some sleep. It would give me a brief respite from this hell.

“You were injured, Evergreen. I know from speaking with you and knowing you that you have suffered pain before. I do not remember thinking that it had ever stopped you before,” she stated, her tone questioning.

“You just don’t get it, Yaari. What point is there in struggling anymore? I’m completely worthless. I can’t even protect myself from a Celestia-damned thug.”

“It was a fight you would have lost either way, Evergreen. In here, yes, we are weak. But that does not mean that we cannot find strength. I know from your tales that you have always been skilled in picking your battles. Even against Esteri and myself, you exercised caution and restraint, when any other pony would have simply attacked.”

“You don’t fucking understand, Yaari!” I snapped, lifting my head and glaring at the small mare, “It wasn’t a fucking choice! I froze! I couldn’t even imagine that fighting was a Luna-damned decision! I was a fucking slave!”

Yaari stared at me for a few moment, her large, white eyes unblinking. “I remember a pony that swore she would die before she stopped fighting,” she stated evenly, taking a step towards me, “I remember a pony that believed anything was possible, as long as they fought hard enough for it. I remember a pony that would follow a damned Princess, only because she believed that Princess wanted peace for her followers. What would that Princess think now?”

“What does it matter? They’re both dead. Have been for centuries,” I growled, lowering my head again.

“What happened to the pony I remember?” Yaari snapped suddenly, stepping forward again until she was nearly on top of me. The sudden anger in her voice made me jump in shock and I shied away from her, instinctively curling up to protect myself, my tail swinging between my legs.

I couldn’t answer. My shock at the zebra mare’s outburst held me pinned in place beneath her angry glare. For several long seconds, silence hung between us like a physical wall. Ever so slowly, Yaari’s posture relaxed.

“You were stronger than this, Evergreen. I saw that evil in you, but you made me see past it, and there I found a strength I have not seen in any other, even Esteri. I saw it that day you saved my life from those raiders, risking your own life to save one that hated you. What happened?” There was genuine concern in her voice, the type of concern I had only ever heard coming from the mouths of my friends, wherever they were. She reached out with a hoof, and any thought of comfort ran from my mind as I pulled back again.

“Don’t touch me!” I exclaimed, trying to put as much distance as I could between us without disturbing the ponies around us.

Yaari froze a look of confusion creeping over her features. As I watched, the confusion changed into understanding. “They did to you what you saved me from…” she muttered, loud enough for me to hear her. “Evergreen, I am sorry, but you must be stronger than this! There are ponies out there that are relying on you, that need you! You promised me freedom, and I did not think you were the sort of pony to break their promises.”

Before I had opened my eyes, those words might have meant something to me, but now, they were only so much noise. “How can another pony rely on me if I can’t even protect myself? I survived a raider gang without them once laying a hoof on me. Now look at me. A simple thug was able to best me, and I let him. Face the truth. It’s over.”

“I don’t believe you,” the zebra announced, “The Evergreen I know wouldn’t give up like this. I saw you kill three raiders without receiving so much as a scratch, and you’re going to let one defeat destroy you? How many times have you lost before, Evergreen?”

“Enough times to know that you can’t recover from some defeats. I’m finished, Yaari, that’s all there is to it. I’m a worthless excuse for a pony, who thought they were clever enough to get away with spiting slavers while under their power. Just leave me alone and get used to living here. Eulogy was right. Escaping is impossible.”

There was another extended silence, then Yaari finally took a step back from me. “Fine. Believe what you want. But I shall not give up fighting. You made me believe we could return to our free lives, and that is what I intend to do. Wallow here in your misery if you think it right, but I will not.”

With that, the zebra turned and left me, disappearing inside. I watched her go, thinking that she would learn. She had the same delusions I did, that our lives mattered for anything in here. One way or another, she would learn.

{This chapter was difficult for me to write, for some obvious reasons. I knew, objectively, that living as a female slave in a post-apocalyptic setting has some unspoken expectations, but it wasn’t something I didn’t necessarily want to write. In the end, the story followed the path of realism rather than my personal desires, and it is what it is. Thank you, as always, to Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria, and to my editors, MUCKSTER (who helps me a lot even during the writing process), and AdobE. The Gdoc for the story can be found here.)