The sun was setting. Its light was turning the ocean to fire, as if it were burning a sacrifice to the Goddesses. From her vantage point in the skyscraper, it was the clearest she'd ever seen. Her eyes stung from the shine, but she couldn't help but stare. After leaving the laboratory, she never missed an opportunity to look at a clear patch of sky. She gloried in the cloudy mornings as the wastes gave birth to the day in the east, and marveled at the explosions of color the sun made when it set in the west. Every once in a while, the wild clouds over the ocean would part to give her an unobstructed view. She didn't want to play favorites but, Celestia have mercy, she loved the rare glimpses of Luna's sky the most.

There had been nights when she enjoyed a lonely stroll along the beaches. Occasionally, she was rewarded with a view of the night sky. The moon, as often as she'd seen it, looked so clean up there. It seemed immune to the stains of the deep blues and rich purples of the inky void in which it lay. It was unsoiled by neglect and untarnished by the thoughts of wicked ponies. Perhaps it was the moon-white color of her coat or maybe it was the blue in her mane, but she felt an affinity for the Princess of the Night. Luna always had a certain quality she valued.

Luna was free. Free of decay, free of the rotting society of Celestia's Acre. She was freed from the bonds of her sister and released from the chains of her own nightmares. Free from her underground cage, Fate no longer felt the yoke of bondage. Enslavement comes in many forms, however, and Fate felt controlled by her own bitterness. Knowing there were still ponies in underground stables, slaves under haughty hooves, made her blood run backwards.

CRUNCH.

She jumped and looked at her hooves. Her mess kit was crushed in between them. She grunted a laugh, shaking her head at its new, discus shape and placed it gently at her side. I really hope nopony heard that. Chuckling at herself, she looked back over the water in the distance. Its cool breeze carried away her moment of levity as her face slackened into a look of longing. There were always patches of clear sky over the ocean.

But the sun was setting.

She had been waiting for hours, and she wasn't entirely keen to stick around Twilight Sparkle Boulevard after dusk. There was the fact that the entire area had been staked out and covered by power armor-less agents of the Steel Rangers. Then there was the fact that she knew the skeleton of the skyscraper she had been waiting in was being patrolled by those same Steel Rangers. Finally, there was the knowledge that any minute the bloodwings would start pouring out of the metro stations. She either had to find a place to hunker down for the night and pray to not be heard by the beasts' super-pony hearing, or else take her chances hoofing it back to the bunker in La Neighah. Being the logical pony she decided on the former. She had no desire to be eviscerated and eaten by ravenous, flying beasts.

Like it or not, she was stuck for the time being, and the sun was quickly sinking. Crazy Rich better be right about this pegasus, she thought. Or I'm shooting that fat-assed Fire Stone handler in the head. The earth pony levitated her binoculars and focused them on said fat-ass. Levitation: the greatest gift she never asked for, courtesy of the scientists from her privately-funded, underground stable. Similar to a Stable-Tec® stable in both build and aesthetic, this particular stable's ultimate purpose was to foster the advancement of cybernetic technology. To this earth pony its ultimate purpose was to use base-born ponies like herself as victims for their debased experiments.

She watched as he paced up and down the alleyway in his khaki trench coat and fedora, chain-smoking cigarettes. He occasionally reached up to scratch the back of his mane or blow his nose. She wondered why Crazy Rich even trusted a traitor to his own family. Well, at least the Fire Stone stuck to his own ideals, no matter how corrupt. That thought didn't keep her from frowning.

The sun was starting to sink into the ocean when she spotted him, the same burning orange color as the sidewalk and buildings at this time of day. He strode along in his blue, two-piece suit toward his appointment. She quietly set down her binoculars and raised her sniper rifle as the orange pegasus reached the alleyway. The weapon was outfitted with an arcane-powered listening device, perfect for eavesdropping. It was also a precaution. Firing at Crazy Rich's contact in order to keep the pegasus alive wasn't the most attractive option, but that orange stallion had to survive. She had to trust the plan. She had to trust in Crazy Rich.

She flicked a switch on the side of her weapon and the crystals attached to either side of its scope began to heat up and glow. Covering the crystals with a pair of dark socks, she activated her ear bloom and pointed her weapon directly at his head.

“...one about Fillydelphia?” the Fire Stone traitor said in a distinct, blown-out voice. She heard the unmistakable sound of a revolver being cocked. She aimed at the head of the larger pony, and clicked her amplifier to standby. One bullet could change the world.

Her breathing relaxed as she prepared to fire. The wind was toying with her hair, whipping streamers of blue across her face. She hesitated. Her company had only one shot at this.

A feeling of weightlessness overtook her.

She shook the hair from her eyes as she peered through the high-powered scope and watched as the Fire Stone lowered his weapon and hugged Raze vigorously. Very friendly, she thought. The two ponies began walking down the deserted boulevard towards Rainbow Dash's Bar & Grill, directly across the street from from her. The amplifier came back to life with a click as she exhaled a silent prayer of thanks to Celestia for not letting it all fall apart. She listened in on their conversation.

“I know! Between them and those vicious raider gangs how are we supposed to grow and maintain the city? I mean, really. As much as I like you, Raze, and enjoy all your accents and impersonations, I don't like having to deal with a trained assassin.”

“Oi'm a trained spy, Frank. It's your organization what pays me for doin' dat.”

The fat pony lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He scratched his mane again.

“ And I'm sure all those ponies you've … terminated for us thought the same way! 'Oh, he's a great spy. He's just killing me for money! It's just business. I understand, ha-ha!' The point is: this band of ex-stable-dwelling anarchists, Invictus, right? They're gaining a lot of sympathy from some of those gangs, BP-16 especially. What are we supposed to do if they succeed in ‘freeing’ one of the sealed stables? Do you know how much useful technology is in one of those places? You think Celestia's Acre can handle those combined forces if they get any new tech from a stable?”

The little voyeur scrunched her nose at those accusations. What gives him the right to dictate what other ponies do she asked herself. Doesn't he realize how enslaved the majority of these stable ponies are? Toiling away under an overmare or stallion who was given the title by birth or some rigged election? These ponies need to make their own choices. If he has the stupidity to think we're going to try to “take over” some place … That doesn't even make sense. I can't believe Crazy Rich trusts this guy.

Her own experience in a stable was a typical story of wartime-Equestrian society thrown into a cramped space underground and pressure-cooked for over a hundred years. A few scientists and political bigwigs eased into the life of the controlling bourgeois while the rest of the populace catered to their needs. It seemed a tired cliché, even more so when she made it to the surface and found society hadn't changed there, either. Every town had its own corrupt leaders. The ponies of Celestia's Acre even had a government. What was she to do? Stand by and watch Equestria rebuild itself on the backs of the bruised?

She shook her head in an attempt to dislodge her internal discourse and went back to paying attention to the conversation of the two shady ponies.

“In a world of balefire and suffering,” Raze said, using his best announcer voice and miming movie trailer explosions with his hooves. “One pony. Uses his power of worry … to change Equestria forever. Frankfurter Fire Stone is … boom! Your Mom. Based on a true story.”

Frank punched Raze in the chest as the pegasus just laughed it up.

“Yeah, you keep on acting like an ass while our government falls apart. We're trying to help ponies, Raze.”

“Da government does whatever it wants. It's luyk all dese gangs. Dey extort tings from ponies in exchange for a bit of 'security'. Fuck me, Frank, de only reason Oi ever work wit'choo is yiz guys in da Fire Stones have at least a bit of morality. Ya still remind me of da Enclave, bunch of fuckin' rats.”

Frankfurter ran his hoof through his mane and sighed. “I'm sorry they did that to you, Raze, I really am, but you have to start accepting the way the world works. You've seen what happens when there isn't any recognized law or police force. You've witnessed what gangs like the Crazy Eights do to towns outside of our reach.”

She squinted. The Crazy Eights were nothing but a pack of wild jackals, only attacking what they knew they could easily conquer. They ravaged the occasional, ill-guarded caravan that wandered out of the city limits on its way to the nowhere-towns of the desert. Sometimes the town, too. If you actually empowered the people, she thought. Instead of letting them live in a dream land of false security, they would have taken care of that problem long ago.

The sun was almost gone and she could hear chirping noises begin to grow in strength and number. There were no birds around this time of day. Whatever was going to happen needed to happen soon.

Raze looked at his companion, his expression losing all warmth. “Invictus, Crazy Eights, BP-16?” Raze asked, looking around. He checked all his points. His gaze stopped on her, almost like he was looking at her through the lens of her scope. She ducked, hoping he didn't see her. What am I doing out here? she asked herself. It was a good question. Observing Raze's shuffling from one fascist group to the next seemed hardly important, but somepony needed to keep an eye on him. Come on Fate, honey! Get it together! She closed her eyes for a moment and raised her rifle. Serenity. Peace. Tranquil waters. Luna save me, this wingboner's good but he's going to get us all killed.

“Whut about the Steel Ranjus?” Raze asked, still staring in Fate's direction. “Aren't you afraid o' dem?”

“Honestly, Raze? They scare me shitless.”

“It was nice knowing you, Frank.”

“Raze, hey … I'm sorry.”

The pegasus shoved Frank to the ground as his wings spread out from under the bottom of his suit jacket. Jumping high, a crazed look of survival stole his face. He knew what was coming for him. He didn't get very far before she saw three blue darts appear in his side. He flapped in vain, falling in a crumpled heap of feathers and fur. Frank got up and ran to the large, blue theater to the right of the bar & grill. His face bore a look of simultaneous shame and fear.

In seconds the street was flooded with the once-hidden Steel Ranger agents. Two carried off the unconscious pegasus, the rest covering all sides. They moved as one, across the street and into the theater building. Its thick walls denied her ability to listen in on the proceedings. It was time for her to move. After turning off and collapsing her rifle she put each piece carefully into its slot in the weapon's foam-padded case. The sun was down and the light of dusk wouldn't last much longer. She had to change. Opening the side compartment of her modified PipBuck, she pulled out her stealth outfit. Really nothing more than dark blue spandex, it offered her bright body the eye-confusing protection of darkness.

After slipping into the form-fitting suit, she strapped the rifle case across her back and crept across the third floor of the building. She moved silently, low to the ground across the length of the floor, the large metal desks her cover. Her Eyes-Forward Sparkle showed no signs of enemies nearby, but she remained cautious knowing the spell had trouble detecting the stealthiest adversaries. The cool, ocean wind sang its lonely thoughts through the empty window panes. The stillness surrounding her was unnerving, but she made it to the stairwell and down the stairs.

The pegasus had to survive this hand-off. She could only imagine the next time an Enclave-trained, pegasus spy who might be sympathetic to her cause would wander into Applewood. The plan had to work. Failing to protect him could completely erode Invictus’ designs for a revived Equestria, creating an even bigger rift between the factions. Maybe even incite another territorial war.

With trepidation, she entered the cavernous lobby on the ground level. The light outside had really started to wane, projecting a chilling blue color onto everything in the lobby. The chittering noise had morphed into the sound of leathery wings flapping. She had to move it to the theater if she wanted her body to stay intact.

The lobby echoed with the soft, punching sound of her hooves on its tile floor. The open space where the front door used to be was within her reach.

A Steel Ranger agent appeared, pointing a silenced pistol at her. It took her brain an awkward moment to realize she was out in the open. Three shots rang out as she dove behind a concrete pillar. Blending into the shadows, she scolded herself for not being careful enough. Squads of eight! Squads of eight! Why didn't I count them? Dammit! This guy probably heard me crush my mess kit. Gah! He's going to alert the rest of his squad! How did you not notice him, Fate?

He came into view, but he didn't seem to notice her. The rush she felt hiding from him made it difficult to breathe quietly. I don't want to fight this guy, she told herself, staring at the dangerous pony looking for her. I got to get out of here. This operation is screwed, anyway. Crazy Rich will pick his trail back up again. Rubble blocked her escape to her left. The lit, open spaces to her front and right were her only possible points of egress. She had no choice. She had to fight through this stallion.

She tensed as he put a hoof forward. His cautious step was rewarded with a buck to the face, dislodging the gun from his mouth. It rattled across the floor taking an incisor with it.

She threw another kick. Bleeding from the mouth, he leaned back and swatted it away. He countered. She ducked and hit him with two punches of her own to the side of his ribs. His subsequent cough peppered her face with blood.

He spun and backed away even as she lept at the nearby pillar and launched herself from it. Her flying punch connected, showering the dusty floor with blood and saliva. He tumbled backwards, end-over-end towards the street, landing on his back.

Doesn't he hear the fluttering, she asked herself, trying to run past him. If this idiot doesn't back off we're both going to die. He reached out and grabbed her leg, tripping her. Standing up, he started for her.

Her magical aura reached out to find something to make him let go. Finding a small stone, she hurled it at his head. The improvised bullet cracked against his skull. He winced and backed away, but shaking his head, bit onto a piece of loose rebar and tore it from the wall. Fate couldn't believe what she was seeing. Goddesses, is this guy's head made of concrete?

He lashed out at her. She leaned back, the rusty rebar missing her middle by inches. His technique was slow, but wide. She was being corralled. Another vicious swing, another step back into the corner. She tossed another levitated rock at him which he batted away. She was trapped again. The savage chain of oppression was once again searching for her. Its grip was warm and icy at the same time, like a mean relative one only sees on Hearthswarming Eve.

Fate had spent enough time in chains. Ducking under another swipe from the rebar, she pounced on her attacker, kicking off from the wall to gain more momentum and power. The two skidded across the floor, Fate landing on her hooves and her adversary on his back, disoriented.

She used his confusion to buy her time enough to run off into the street, but landed on her face instead. She held a hoof to her now-wounded nose and cursed the pony who had set the tripwire. There was a rumbling. Concrete boulders began to rain down around her. The majority of the rubble missed her as she rolled away, but her right rear leg up to the fetlock was caught in the debris.

She tugged at her leg. Struggling was no use. She was trapped. The Steel Ranger agent emerged from the concrete dust plume wielding his silenced pistol once more. With no real hope to escape, she watched him take aim. This is it, she thought. Brought down by a hunk of concrete and a tiny, lead slug. She stared into his eyes, defiant to the last, when he was knocked off his hooves by a dark blur..

He let out a furious roar as he kicked the bloodwing off himself. He staggered to his feet. Blood mingled with strands of saliva, dangling from his lips. Another of the bat-like creatures rammed into him, followed by another, and another. A steady stream of them erupted out of the nearby metro, chasing after the lead one which had taken its prize up in the air.

Fate used this distraction to dig her leg out of the rubble. She struggled to her hooves and started hobbling across the street. She craned her neck to watch the stallion successfully beat his flying captor unconscious. He fell, only to be snatched mid-air by three others. They pulled at his legs using their powerful wings as leverage against the air. Yelling turned to shrieking as Fate heard the juicy crunch of his leg being ripped from his body. She watched the lucky bloodwing fly away with its reward. The rest of him fell out of the pulsating swarm. Her hooves stumbled onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street when the screaming stopped with a crunching thud behind her. She grimaced, choking on her fear.

She staggered down the alleyway, looking for a back door to the Rocky Theater. A bloodwing landed in the alleyway, blocking her way. She hesitated, not knowing exactly what to do as the creature made its way toward her. Its massive fangs dripped with a mixture of blood and venom. Her eyes darted around, looking for anything to use as a weapon. They spotted a piece of pipe further down the alleyway. She levitated it and pulled it into the back of the bloodwing's head with all the focus she could muster. It popped sickeningly through its skull, protruding out of its eye socket. She managed to run past the convulsing monster and down the alleyway. Slurps and gurgles of the savage feast continued behind her.

Shambling up the steps to the back door, she set to work on picking the lock. She had levitated out her home-made lockpick when everything went silent. The bloodwings had finished their meal and began their chirping to find another. The sound would have been adorable, had she not witnessed their previous meal. She tried to muffle the sound of the lockpick's work on the door. Each click of the lock's ratcheting tumblers was a gunshot in the near silence. Keep picking, she told herself. They can hear you, but you have to keep picking. The rasp of claws against the ground grew, along with the fluttering of wings and that incessant chirping. The lock was being stubborn; it was one of those locks that time had forgotten to weaken, making any progress in its violation painfully slow.

A gentle hiss touched her right eardrum.

Fate forced the bloodwing from her mind, though fear was gnawing at her gut. She focused on the lock and the relatively safe area behind it. For her there could be no fear, no bloodwing, only the lock. The mutated bat didn't see it that way as it prepared to jump to the platform on which Fate was standing, disregarding its stairs, entirely. Several more shapes joined their hungry friend on the platform and its railing, staring and hissing at her.

The obstinate lock finally succumbed to her caress even as three of the beasts hurled themselves at her, their dagger-like talons outstretched. The door opened. One of the bats lashed out with a claw. Leaning her head, she felt a slight tug at her ear. She stumbled inside as quickly as she could on her lamed leg. Closing the door seemed like it would be nearly as difficult as opening it had been, as the surging cloud of leathery flesh tried desperately to push through. The beasts were strong, heaving with all of their ravenous weight against the old, steel door. What they weren't, however, was clever. Fate used their frenzied state to her advantage as she levitated a mop and tossed it over their heads. Many of them chased after the motion, hoping for an easy meal. The remaining creatures were easily dissuaded from their assault with stabs from her survival knife.

She put a hoof to her ear. The talon had ripped a hole in her suit but luckily her ear was still intact. The door slammed shut, cutting off nearly all the sound from outside, leaving only the scratching noises of the bloodwings' claws tearing at it in vain. Lock the door! She wrenched the apparent lock lever, sinking three massive deadbolts deep in the wall. She leaned her back against the door. It was cold, and she could feel the vibrations of the bloodwings' fury through its steel.

Breathe.

She sighed and sunk to the floor, relieved to be through with the giant bat issue for the day. The shock and excitement of her fight for survival was quickly evaporating, allowing her to feel every pain signal her leg and nose were sending her brain. She eased herself off of the door and, wincing, stood up. Her leg was throbbing, but she couldn't waste time cradling it. There had to be a shadowy place to witness the transaction. She would never forgive herself if she missed something important.

Staring into the blackness before her, she clicked the light of her PipBuck on to get an idea of where she was. She looked around at the long, dark room. The holes she assumed used to be windows had long since been covered and reinforced by all manner of materials. Something to her left reflected the wan light of her PipBuck. It was a mirror, fairly well-preserved. The somewhat translucent shadows silhouetted against it suggested this room was a bar. Or at least it had been.

Ignoring the pain as best she could, Fate limped across the dusty old room to a wooden door. “Employees Only” stated a big plastic label. It was unlocked, and led to a narrow stairwell. Its ceiling and walls were plastered with every type of sticker and graffiti imaginable. Logos of musical groups and pop-culture references forgotten by time stared at her from all sides of the stairwell. Though her outfit covered her entirely (large gashes nonwithstanding), a chill ran down her spine as she put a hoof on the railing for balance. Even through the suit, she could feel every bump of goo left by decades of stickers.

The stairs led her to a little space at the bottom of the stairwell. Four doors greeted her and she could hear distant muttering emanating from the right-most. Noticing that the door was also leaking light from the space underneath, she clicked her PipBuck's light off . She pressed her ear to the door and could hear two voices and the trickle of water. The smaller voice was speaking.

“...right after, right?”

“Yeah,” the gruff voice answered. “We're not even gonna wait for all those bats tuh clear out. Can you believe that?.”

“Need me to hold your hoof all the way back home?”

“Pshh! Laugh all you want, bro. Sleepy Shores is back and you know how she gets when things go her way.”

“Aw, shit.”

Fate heard the gruff voice cough up a chuckle. “Good luck trying to get any sleep tonight, dude!”

Typical stallions, Fate thought to herself, massaging the space between her eyes again. Always a contest. Always a new conquest. There was a slight pause in their conversation as she heard the water slow to a stop.

“Are you sure any of that will happen with Marrow acting all manic?”

“Ugh, Fin! Why'd you have to go and screw up my night before it started?”

“Just sayin', Gat. His royal creepiness has a way of screwing things up for everypony. Other than the obvious, what do you think he wants with that pegasus?”

“I'm not even going to try 'n find out. Don't burden yourself with the secrets of scary ponies. Speaking of which, we better get back out there.”

“You go on ahead. I still have, um, some unfinished-”

The big voice snorted. “Still shy? Shit, you should'a been a scribe.”

“That's funny, Gatling. I'll have to remember that one the next time I have to save your ass from a slap-happy pimp.”

“Hey, I was wasted! It doesn't count!”

“Excuses. Still doesn't change the fact that he would've slapped you to death.”

“Whatever. Have fun playin' with yourself in the dark, duck-fucker.”

“Ass-hat.”

The sound of hooves told Fate of the big pony's departure. If they were just taking a bathroom break before they rejoined the rest of their brothers, it wouldn't take that long. She waited for another trickle of liquid to start, but it never came. Checking her Eyes-Forward Sparkle, she noticed the little green bar representing the pony who was apparently called “Fin” had not moved. Curious, she peered under the door. She saw four gray hooves standing right behind it.

Shit!

The door handle began to jiggle.

Fuck!

It was locked. Thank Celestia for small miracles, she thought, trying the other doors with her telekinesis. Two doors opened for her, the one with a star on it at the other end of the stairwell and another on the wall directly to the right of it with the word “Mares” emblazoned on its front. She left the door at the end opened as she hobbled into the mares’ room and closed its door behind her. She switched her PipBuck light back on to find a place to hide. It illuminated the two toilet stalls in the corner of the room. The entirety of the room that wasn't black tile was completely plastered with in band stickers and personal advertisements, each with matching seven-digit numbers. The smell was no better; the room reeked slightly of an almost sweet wetness, as if something had been turning fetid meat into candy. Her nose told her “no”, but she had to hide somewhere.

Choking back her lunch, she entered the corner-most stall, stood on its battered porcelain seat, turned off her PipBuck's light and closed her eyes. She tempered her breathing and reached out with her other senses. Fin had stopped fumbling with the lock. A sense of relaxation stole over her body. Then the crash came. Apparently the Steel Rangers taught their ranks a different style of lockpicking. Oh, please don't come in here, she prayed. Oh Celestia, sister of mercy, please don't let him come through that door. She had no way of making it out of this situation alive if she had to start killing Steel Rangers. They had her immeasurably outnumbered and out-gunned, and there weren’t many good hiding spots in the Rocky Theater. Leaving was, of course, suicide with the swarms of bloodwings outside. With her injured leg she would be too easy a meal to pass up.

Fin's hooves thundered down the little stairwell room. They stopped in the dressing room. Sounds of him milling about wafted through the restroom door, like he was looking for something. Celestia, sister of mercy, let him just walk back out of the room and return to his post. Please, just let him return to his post. She heard opening drawers and what sounded like furniture being overturned, then silence. Silence set in as Fate recognized her own shallow breathing. Luna, sister of the night, let him not hear me and pass on by.

He was quiet for what seemed like several minutes until Fate heard his defeated hoofsteps mercifully heading back to the door through which he originally came. Relaxing a bit, a smile moved across her face. Then she heard it. A clicking sound came from the stall next to hers. It was only a little bit at first, as if a rattle and a ratchet had a baby. But the noise grew louder and more dense. The air began to putrefy even as she breathed it, clinging to her nostrils like an obsessed stalker. Finally, with a belching slurp, many red bars began to populate her Eyes-Forward-Sparkle. In the pitch black of the restroom she couldn't see a thing, but she knew what they were.

She had to wait until the Steel Ranger sentry was gone, but the radroaches would find her eventually. Unfortunately for Fate, she couldn't hear anything else above the skittering of the- Wait! Hoofsteps. He was returning. Biting her bottom lip, Fate shook her head. Damn. Not your lucky day, is it?

The door crashed open and a bright, bluish light blew the darkness of the room away. The innumerable shiny, brown carapaces of the radroaches made the floor look like a rust-colored sea. She retched as she saw the light bounce and land in an awkward position. It was understandable. The shock and revulsion at opening a door to a sea of insects would make anypony drop their flashlight. Fate kept her dry heaves as quiet as she could, not that Fin would have been able to discern hers over his own.

“Oh! HMMMNNNG! Oh...oh, that's nasty! Oh Godde- HMMMPHGH!” One hoof holding his belly, he spat a few times on the ground and turned to face the radroach intrusion. His voice sounded a bit more weak when he said, “Okay, you guys gotta go.”

The light moved back to a higher position even as she heard the crunches. One-by-one Fin stomped through the mass until he came to the first stall, and bucked it open.

“Ah, so this is where you're coming from! Eugh! Die!”

It sounded like potato chips being stirred into a jar of mayonnaise.

CRUNCH … SLURP … CRUNCH … SLURP!

Fate was sweating. A bit of ocean breeze would have been sweet relief in that dank room. Even just the sound of empty space would do, but the other pony kept her trapped in the infested rest room. There was a bit of heavy breathing before she heard him back out of the stall. “Alright, I know there are a few more back here. Come and meet your maker.” His hooves squished to a stop in front of the stall she was in.

Oh crap!

Fate hurdled the wall over to the neighboring stall, touching the sticker-encrusted divider as little as possible. She peered over the last wall at the mass genocide Fin had wrought. Now was her only chance to get by undetected. She took a moment to build the courage to run out into the slippery, open floor. Please, dear Luna, sister of the night, let me move as a shadow through darkness, she prayed. With that she hopped the last wall and landed on the floor without a sound. She grit her teeth, stifling a scream brought on by her leg injury.

Fin was still quelling the radroach rebellion as she rounded the door and snuck into the next room. It was a slightly bigger area with concrete floors and a rusted, roll-up metal door. The loading bay once used by musicians and their roadies now lay derelict. The sticker motif continued into this room as well. Voices and a number of strange, metallic sounds were emanating from the theater. She was missing out on what was happening to her target, but Fin would soon be finished with pest control. She had to hide.

Something warm and wet splashed up her leg. Ew! Her expression soured as she looked down to find her hoof in a puddle. That's right, she remembered. She hung her head and sighed. What kind of slob would use the ground when there are toilets in the next room? Thinking a bit more about it, she remembered that not everypony was raised in a sterile environment. It still didn't change her disgust.

Ignoring her now-wet and quickly-cooling leg, she spotted an old equipment case and slipped into it. She opened the top slightly to peek out, waiting for Fin's return. As if on cue, the young stallion appeared from the restroom, looking rather smug. He trotted through the loading bay on his way back out to the main hall. Hmm, she mused. Blue coat. Cute face … Nice ass. He stopped as if sensing her thoughts, and carefully shined his light around the room. Fate closed the top of the case and froze in place, making sure not to make a sound. She bated her breath, taking in air only as much as she dared to smell. Filthy stallions.

After a few quiet and smelly moments, the sound of his hooves meandered out of the loading bay and echoed in the theater beyond. She silently pushed up on the case's top enough to make sure the room was empty. Thank you Luna, sister of the night, for your blessing, she prayed. Please be with me now. Moving like a spider in the darkest corner of a room, Fate slid out of the equipment case. She could hear echoing voices coming from the theater. Celestia damn me if I missed anything important. She looked for a place to listen in on the proceedings in the theater. There were stairs leading to a curtain-covered door jam. Bingo.

Without a sound, she edged up the little staircase leading to the stage and hid behind the curtains. Peering through the shredded holes the moths left behind, Fate had a good view of the majority of theater. Several battery-powered construction lights lent their yellowish glow to the hall. What they revealed surprised her.

There were four Steel Rangers already in power armor with one other just getting into his own. Damn, she swore to herself. There goes any possibility of taking them out. She could only assume they were the same Rangers from outside. They stood near the front door. Two were holding onto a pegasus ghoul mare, an extremely rare sight. The ghoul seemed worried as she stared over at Raze. That must be “Grandma,” she thought, thinking back to her briefing. Crazy Rich might have been crazy, but he was certainly thorough.

Toward stage left was a herd of ghoul ponies surrounded by a group of mercenaries led by a well-groomed mare in a plum colored suit. Well, that's different, she thought, staring at the strange sight. Next to the suit stood Frankfurter, who was still looking quite worried in his trench coat and fedora.

Her eyes moved to the middle of the room where she spotted her target, stripped of his suit and wearing a slave's collar. Fate hissed. Her own memories of slavery burned, hot in her mind. If the pegasus tried to escape or even got a certain distance away from the controller for his new neck-wear, the collar would relieve him of his head. She fought her indignation back. Nopony should be another's property. Celestia, sister of mercy, I pray for a delicate end to this situation.

Fate caught herself stroking her mane again in an attempt to soothe herself. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She repeated the mantra in her head. Serenity. Peace. Tranquil waters. The techniques were foreign to many, but effective. The knot that had wound up inside of her unraveled bit by bit, allowing her to open her eyes and focus once again.

Raze was tied to an old wooden chair. Next to him sat what looked like a large, metal coffin attached to a cart. That didn't exactly bolster Fate's optimism. Over Raze towered a massive pony in the vermillion habit of a Steel Ranger Scribe. Fin stood next to him, talking about something. The hulking scribe was nodding as he listened to what the little, blue stallion was saying, but he kept his hood-covered head pointed at Raze.

Fate didn't waste any time opening up her rifle case and putting her weapon together. She covered the glowing crystals of her listening device with the dark socks and switched on the device.

“All of them?” asked the gravelly-voiced scribe.

“All that I could see, High-Scribe,” Fin answered.

“Hmpf. At least it explains the red blips on my E.F.S. Fall in line and put your armor on, Knight; we're going to be leaving here shortly.”

“Yes, High Scribe.” He saluted and proceeded to trot over to where his armor lay on the ground.

The front door opened and another armor-clad Steel Ranger strode inside. He sounded out of breath as the speakers on his armor came to life. “Sir, Knight Repartee has fallen.”

The High Scribe craned his neck to look at the armored pony.“What?! You're sure?”

“Yes, sir. The bloodwings got him, sir. They left his remains in the middle of the street. I have his holotags.” The knight held out a hoof, the bloody tags dangling on a chain as proof.

The Scribe looked back at Raze. “Well, shit. Hey! Hey, asshole!” He took Raze's head in between his hooves and shook it. “Do you hear that? You cost me a pony!”

Raze's head lolled to the side as he groaned. He blinked several times, though lids weren't moving quite right. The tranquilizers had obviously performed their job with aplomb. “Mnn, hnng?” he asked, unable to focus on anything in particular.

“Oh, good! You're awake! I trust my little concoction isn't too much for your metabolism. A fit pony like yourself should have no trouble breaking down a weak sedative like this.”

“Ffffn yyyuuuhhh!”

The hall reverberated with the scribe's bellowing laugh. “Fighting already! You're going to be fun to work with.” He motioned over to the Rangers holding on to the pegasus ghoul. They dragged her over to sit within Raze's field of vision. Fate noticed a rope corseting the featherless wings to her body. Efficient. Around her neck hung the deadly collar of a slave, and her hooves were shackled. The big scribe smiled as Raze attempted to focus on what was before him. “Hello, Raze. Nice to finally meet you. My name is High-Scribe Marrow.”

Fate closed her eyes and dropped her head to the ground at the mention of his name. Stories of Marrow were well-known within the stable-born circles. First-hoof accounts of raids led by a callous, off-white stallion flooded her mind. Tales of his torturous interrogations would have reached mythic status, had she not herself seen the disfigurements he perpetrated against his captives. Shit, she thought. High-Scribe fucking Marrow. A murderous sociopath is exactly what my life was missing.

Marrow continued, “I have been sent here to procure equipment for the Steel Rangers. Namely you and Riverdance here.” Fate took mental note of her name even as she choked down the urge to shoot Marrow in his neck. Nopony should be another's property. “Sleepy Shores, please enlighten our guest as to why he is here.”

Marrow moved to the side of Raze and tapped away at the controls on the metal coffin.
One of the armored Steel Rangers trotted over to stand in front of the pegasus. With much hissing, the Ranger's helmet came off and out flowed a shimmering, viridian mane. The sea green mare it was attached to smirked as she held her helmet with a foreleg. “Hiya, Brandy Buns!” she said. Raze let a small look of shock slip through his training, and Sleepy Shores just giggled in response. Fate didn't understand the significance. Who's this chick, she wondered to herself. Raze just sat there, silent.

“You sorta rushed out of bed earlier today,” she started. Well, there you go, thought Fate. She rolled her eyes as Sleepy Shores went on. “What's up with that, huh? Wait, no. Let me guess.” She tapped a hoof to her lips as she looked up in thought. “You had to re-arrange your cognac glasses? No? Okay … Oh! Your dolly needed her hair brushed, huh? No? Hmmm... Don't tell me you went to see your coltfriend?” Her eyes went wide as she backed up and looked around at the rest of the room. “Oh, Goddesses! I think I turned him gay, you guys!” That got a chuckle from much of the room. Fate rolled her eyes again in frustration. She had no desire to hear this loathsome mare spout her pedestrian insults.

“No? Oh, wait. You guys … He met a shady character in an alley in Applewood, right? That means there's something I have to check.” She kicked out her foreleg that wasn't holding her helmet and connected with a very sensitive area on Raze. The pegasus began coughing, shaking and wheezing. Apparently Marrow's sedative wasn't much of a pain-killer. “Oops! Not a mare! Sorry about that, buddy.”

“Knight Shores!” The rest of the room faded into silence as Marrow's deep voice rumbled forth like a controlled rock slide. “No harming the equipment, Ms. Shores. If he is unable to fulfill his duties there will be sanctions set upon you and I will personally see that they are carried out. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Mmm. You may return to your preparations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Marrow took over Sleepy Shores' spot in front of Raze. “Forgive Knight Shores' exuberance; she's just excited at the prospect of traveling with you.” Finally, Fate thought. She pushed a silent button on her PipBuck to begin recording audio. Raze appeared nonplussed as he received the news. “She's going to keep an eye on you as you procure some equipment and information for us. Nothing an accomplished spy like you can't handle, I'm sure.”

Marrow smiled and walked around the pouting Raze. The whole scene reminded Fate of those old, educational films she was forced to sit through back in the lab. The timberwolves hunted in packs. Every pack member would eat from the kill, but only after the alpha had his fill. “You should be thanking us, you know. We're saving your life. No one wants you. The gangs know you're the one who's thinned their numbers. The families, too. You've been branded as a traitor to the skies, so that's out. Even in you were able to make it across the desert, from what I know the cities out east wouldn't exactly welcome you.

Fate's ears perked. Canterlot and The Bucklyn Bridge were sights she had always wanted to see. She was amazed by the heights ponykind could reach when they shared the same vision, and wondered what stories of the east Raze had in his collection. Marrow continued. “Fillydelphia, I've heard, has taken a turn for the worse and you were kicked out of Friendship City. And now you've come to this: living with an ex-wartime operative in the tunnels underneath Applewood. Just two pegasus spies 'shootin' the breeze.' You know, you should really consider moving out of your grandma's basement.”

The booming clack of Marrow's hooves echoed through the hall as he slowly circled Raze like a buzzard. Fate noticed her teeth clenching as she watched the scribe parade around with his air of smug superiority. The experience was unnerving for her. Marrow had quite a bit of leverage on Raze already, but if he were to hold true to his reputation as Fate feared, he was going to do something unkind. She tried to rein in her mind from flying off into the furthest realms of conjecture. Serenity. Peace. Tranquil waters.

Raze didn't appear to be doing much better. His head was doing figure-eights as he tried to hold it up. His face melted into the best scowl he could muster under the influence of the sedatives. “Yuh cnnnn't fnnnnngn' get a mmmme!” he imparted. He seemed to be breaking through the tranquilizers, though with much effort. He let out a drunken laugh. “How could yyyyou evfffffen tink dat? Sshhhhe doessssn't mean annnn-fing to me.”

Marrow stood still as he regarded Raze's statement, squinting. He didn't seem angry. He seemed … pleased? Fate felt her stomach drop. Her brain was describing what was coming. As much as she didn't want to continue watching, a detailed account of the meeting was required.

“Oh, yes she does, Raze. Yes, she does. But don't you worry about ol' Grandma. I'll personally make sure she's treated the way a dame like her should be.” Marrow brought up his hoof and stared at it like some priceless antique. “With great care and attention to detail. I mean, we don't want her escaping and tearing apart families again, do we? Anyway, I believe you Fire Stones have something to say.” The two Fire Stones meandered over to face Raze. The Mare in the plum suit spoke.

“Hi, Raze, honey. Looks like you made some powerful friends.”

“Flare,” Raze growled. “It had tuh be you, didn't it?”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, hon.”

“All dis.” He looked around at the Steel Rangers and at his own restraints. “And dat,” he said, pointing with the back of his head to the herd of ghouls.

Flare laughed a politician’s laugh. It gave Fate goosebumps. This was one of the heads of the Fire Stone family and political leader of the ponies of Celestia's Acre. The greater Applewood region was under their control. The idea that the leaders of the organization made dealings with an ex-enclave operative left a bitter flavor in Fate's mouth. Politics always had a way of dissolving into contests of might and deceit.

“You think I was behind all this?” Flare asked. “I wanted to retire you! Your friend, Frankfurter over there went far beyond my jurisdiction just to save your life. Set up a deal with that hot liaison you seem to know really well.” She leaned in close and gave him a wink. “Those zombies are the payment. Pretty good haul for a guy like you.”

Flare smiled as she took a step back. “Frank, do you have anything to say to your friend before he hits that long and dusty trail?”

Frankfurter stared at the ground. Through the scope, it looked like he was crying. It was obvious he never wanted this kind of situation to happen. He half-heartedly raised his head. “Raze I … I'm so sorry,” he said.

“Me too,” said Flare as she pulled a semi-automatic pistol from her suit and shot Frankfurter in his surprised eye. The bang bounced around the big room. Fate grimaced as she tore the ear bloom out of her ear. The feed back through her amplifier was deafening. Wiping a tear from her eye, she placed the ear bloom in her other ear. Marrow was staring in her direction. “Shit,” the whisper escaped her lips. Please, Luna, let them not notice me.

“You sure you got all of them?” Marrow asked, disregarding Frankfurter's bleeding corpse.

“All of them that I saw, sir,” the fully-armored Fin replied. “But it was a swarm. It wouldn't surprise me if they've broken through the pipes again.”

Marrow chewed on Fin's words as he stared at the curtains at the back of the stage. His eyes didn't feel like normal pony eyes to Fate. They had the power to lay judgment, to condemn from across the room. Raze couldn't pull his eyes away from his dead friend as Flare stood over him, cleaning her weapon. Fate looked on his pain. He had just lost who appeared to be his only friend, and for what? So another pony could save face and keep controlling others? She could relate. Feelings of loss, of loneliness, of rage? Yes. She could relate.

Fate felt helpless as she waited and prayed for the scribe to go back to what he was doing. Her prayers were answered when, after a terrifying moment Marrow addressed his squad. “Alright, time to put him in the box!” his voice boomed. “This pegasus has to be in and out of surgery before tomorrow morning!” His Rangers flew into action, some tearing Raze out of the chair and others opening the mechanical coffin which hissed and steamed.

Marrow hobbled over to Raze as they were strapping the pegasus into the coffin. “Well, that was entertaining, wasn't it? Too bad about your Fire Stone friend. You understand why she had to do that?” His eyes lingering on Raze’s brand. He smiled. The coffin began to shut. “One last thing, pegasus. Make sure to play nice with Knight Shores. You're family now!”

The metal coffin closed with a hiss as Marrow chuckled wetly. He hitched himself to the wagon. Two Steel Rangers blindfolded Riverdance and threw her, mangled leg and all, in the wagon, next to the coffin. “Gatling Storm! Sharkfin Soup! Move up!” The two Rangers responded quickly, moving to the front doors. The entire squad vanished into the lobby. Fate could hear chirps and screeches followed by the booms of heavy weaponry. The Rangers would have an easy trip home. Mission accomplished. Her focus shifted to Flare and her bands of mercenaries and ghouls. Worries floated through her mind about what they'd do next, knowing she would have to share the building with them for the night.

“Shoot-Fire, please get one of your boys to toss that outside before he starts to stink.” She motioned at Frankfurter's lifeless body. “And start up a fire; I'm sure you're all starving.” She turned to smile at her ghoul prizes. Fate tasted the bitter, iron flavor again, but didn't act on it. Invictus had to be patient. These corrupt, tyrannical ponies would reap their karma in time.

Two ponies were dragging Frankfurter in her direction. Oh, “outside” back here? She switched off her device, but didn't have enough time to break down her rifle. Wrapping it and its case separately with her telekinesis, she gently put them into the equipment case before jumping back in, herself.

She heard the hoofsteps and dragging sounds of the mercenaries along with two muffled voices.

“Well, fuck me! I'm not haulin' this sack uh lard outside!”

“Yeah. Flare's crazy if she thinks I'm gonna go anywhere near them bloodwings when they're all uppity like that.”

“Throw him in that box, there?”

“I like your thinkin'.”

Oh, no, she thought. The dragging sound was already really close. Oh, Celestia, sister of mercy, no! The top of the box opened up and Fate's eyes went wide. Luna, please no! There were several grunts before she saw Frankfurter's horribly disfigured face leer at her over the side of the box, his tongue lolling out. A small tear of blood weeped out out of his empty eye socket and dripped onto the end of Fate's nose. She tensed every muscle in her body, bracing for impact. It was all she could do to not jump out of the box and run from the building, screaming all the way.

The case gave a great creak as the two ponies outside of it heaved the body over its side. Frankfurter landed roughly on Fate's middle, knocking the wind out of her. Then the top closed, shrouding her in darkness.

Finally freeing herself from under his fatty folds of flesh, she curled up in the corner of the case, panting. I should have stuck to gun maintenance! Crazy Rich can keep these horrible jobs! She was ready for a day off or, considering her surroundings, at least a day outside. She clicked her pipbuck's broadcaster on. Its red light eerily illuminated Frankfurter's shape. Ew.

“Luna One to the Moon,” she whispered, breathlessly at her pipbuck. “Luna One to the Moon.”

“The Moon reads you, Luna,” a grainy voice crackled in her ear. “Aren't you lonely up there, on the moon?”

“My friends are the stars and a rock named Skippy.”

“What have you got for me, girl?”

“I have a recording of the meeting. They're going for it.”

“Excellent. We'll keep a tag on him.”

“He's going in for surgery tonight. They're probably going to fit him with a slave chip. That's not going to be a problem, is it?”

“No, no problem. We'll send Doc out with you.”

“I need a shower.” Fate sniffed at her hoof. “A hot one.”

“I'll make sure the tank's full before you get back. How's the contact?”

She looked over the vague outline of Frank’s corpse. “He took a nap. I'm sorry.”

“That's a shame. Who's the perp?”

“Flare.”

“Of course it was. Well, at least the news won't go to waste. We'll talk when you get back. I am the master of my fate.”

“I am the captain of my soul.”

She clicked off the broadcaster and sat in the heavy darkness for a minute, trying to process her day. The first meeting, the fight, the flight, the second meeting, and now this? She wondered how else the Goddesses would toy with her.

Frankfurter suddenly gasped for air, convulsing. His hoof cracked Fate in the nose before he settled down to a stable breathing pattern. Fate rubbed her nose and swore. The broadcaster light clicked back on.

“Luna one to the Moon. Luna one to the Moon.”

“The Moon reads you, Luna. Aren't you lonely up there, on the moon?”

“My friends are the stars and a rock named Skippy.”

“What's up, Fate?”

“New developments, Rich.”

I want to give a MASSIVE thanks to yetanotherpony, who whipped my writing into shape and smashed this chapter until it was readable.

This story is based on Kkat’s strange and wonderful, Fallout: Equestria. If you haven’t already, please do so. Here’s the link: Equestria Daily

If you’d like to read more Fallout Equestria Side Stories, take a look at: Fallout Equestria Side Stories post on Equestria Daily and the Fallout Equestria Side Stories thread on Ponychan

Thank you also to Arcane Scroll for the excellent site: Fallout: Equestria Resource. There is a chat function on that site, come say “hello.”