“My name is Raze, former operative of the Grand Pegasus Enclave and former security enforcer for the Fire Stone family. I am being treated well and have not been harmed in any way. I will not be released into your custody until the demands of my caretakers have been met. They require an audience with no more than three of your Steel Ranger representatives. This will include the Paladin known as Trueheart. The meeting will occur at seventeen-hundred hours at the Burrito Boss in Little Neighpon. Bring no weapons or power armor. Reinforcements will not be tolerated, will be seen as an act of aggression and will result in my explosive death. You dirt eaters better not fuck this up! I'm fuckin' hungry, what's f-”

“Did I not say dees before? Paladin Trueheart's squad should have accompanied heem. Now we're without de part and de pegasus to fly de thing.”

“Elder Horchata, I see what yer sayin', but Paladin Trueheart's reckless and noisy squad would've alerted the Enclave long before they reached their destination. It could've cost us more good ponies. Besides, we still have that ghoul.”

“That's all (sniff) irrelevant, anyway! The gangs are getting...bold. We have to, um...we have to start pruning them back before they become overgrown and choke out all the roads. I mean, the Fire Stones are having some issues with them, and-”

“'Lescha's teeth, Elder Green Hoof! Welcome to th' conversation. That's what we're discussin', yuh jackass. Maybe if yuh didn't waste all yer time enjoying yer stupid plants yuh could help out with yer share of the thinkin', or at least pay attention.”

The table erupted again with misguided emotions. The topics were as large and varied as the personalities discussing them. Trade with savages. The families and gangs. Sleepy Shores' failure.

Marrow was hardly paying attention. Rolls of pillows had sprouted below his eyes. Sleep had gone from dream-filled to beyond dreamless. Now, it seemed to Marrow, it was just the missing time in between work. He propped up his head with a hoof. A drunk smile stole his face. His plan may have failed, but that's why he always made a backup. That knowledge satisfied him more than any meal.

“Order!” Elder Gazpacho roared at the bickering ponies surrounding the table. He coughed roughly several times before continuing. “Order. Relax, my friends. Let's not e-speculate about such things. Come now. We're all smart ponies here. One of us must have some kind of especial plan. Elder Manzanita, you e-seem de most relaxed here. What are your thoughts on de matter?”

Elder Manzanita crooked one of her stern eyebrows as she answered. “Well, as I was sayin': we still have that ghoul, and she's more familiar with the technology than he ever was. I don't see why we don't just wait for Senior Scribe Ohms to finish his experiments with a replacement part to see if that works.”

“We can't wait another minute for Ohms to make something that'll work for that ridiculous contraption,” Elder Green Hoof interjected. “Things are becoming untenable in Celestia's Acre for just about everypony. We can't let the BP-16 and Crazy 8's run around and demolish whatever they want. I don't care what you hillbillies think; we need to wipe them out. We depend on groups like the Fire Stones for things like information, seeds and as much as you inbred hicks hate to admit it, some new genetic code to keep-”

“You don't talk about muh family that way, you hopped-up, ol' scab!” Elder Pinky Cripps flew from his chair, ready to defend his sister's honor against the shriveled, old stallion. Marrow couldn't tell if Green Hoof grimaced or smiled at the notion.

Marrow massaged his temples with his hooves. They were all right, of course. He hadn't even heard one clear argument. The meeting had become less about defining priorities and more about demanding respect and admiration. The Elder council had shifted their focus to rudderless bickering and the brotherhood would drift along with them, suffering.

As the aimless squabbles grew, Marrow found himself falling inward. BP-16, Crazy 8's, the families, the Enclave: these were only aggravations of the true enemies. A dwindling supply of resources and the power to control them. Of course these aggravations had to be cleansed. Of course trade with the savages, though distasteful, was useful, but the council had lost sight of its future and Marrow was already at work on his own vision.

A vision of enlightened individuals constantly destroying, erasing and improving. A place in which this zeal for perfection was embodied in a new master race, bound in solidarity and prepared to be shot into the heart of a new golden era. He felt himself pulling on the bow string, itching to let loose. Elder Gazpacho's hoof pinged repeatedly across the stainless table.

“Shut up! All of you! We are arguing over nothing.” Elder Gazpacho fell into another coughing fit. It took some time for the Elder to recover. He shuddered as he touched a hoof to his brow. “I thought we might need a different point of view. Dis is why I brought High Scribe Marrow. Maybe hees fresh perspective could shed some light on this situation.”

“Yeah, let 'im explain why his plan went straight tuh Hell,” Elder Pinky Cripps huffed.

Marrow stared at Elder Gazpacho. “May I speak now, sir?”

The Elder nodded.

“Alright.” Marrow lifted himself out of his chair, popped a few leg joints and proceeded to walk around the room. His rumbling voice conquered the room. “Please forgive me if my movement disturbs you all. It helps me focus. I'll be brief.

“We're all aware this is a delicate situation. We're dealing with a group of hostile savages. Idealistic, hostile savages: the worst. Paladin Trueheart may end up being a terrible sacrifice to pay, but while he and his newly-found savage friends distract them with talks of peace, we'll use that time to test the chain of this terrorist organization. I'm sure at least one of them is tired of living like a parasprite.”

It was a long walk, but it wasn't the distance that bothered him. Snaking through alleyways in BP-16 territory didn't trouble him in the slightest. He wasn't even too concerned about flying above the clouds to complete the mission they forced on him. It was that look. She stared at him as if he were the popular girl in school, and she was threatening to show the most embarrassing photo. Yet another in a long line of overseers. The futility of fighting back stung like the hot wind blasting his eyes. He shot her a sideways glance.

“Are you going to stare at me like that all the way to the skyport?” he asked.

“I might. So what if I do? You don't have to hide your accent around me, you know? I know all your little secrets.” Sleepy Shores savored the words like chocolate.

“Secrets? You don't even know the meaning of the word.” The lie did nothing to cover the pain of the truth. Sleepy Shores knew him like an old cliché.

“Don't I? I slapped that same flank she used to kiss. Her lipstick is still there.”

“I mean, the secrets business, ass. I have to keep this accent up for the time being. It's been a while since I've done something at all challenging.”

“I wasn't a challenge? Raze, I'm hurt.”

“Quit with the sophomore crap. We're here.”

The two reached the underside of an overpass. Raze tore through his bag and brought out the mechanic's coveralls he was given. He put them on in a hurry, wanting nothing more than to part company. Sleepy shores held out the PipBuck 1,000 he would have to use to identify a working Pegasus Magic Amplifier.

“You want this?” She turned her head coquettishly. She pulled the PipBuck back as he reached for it. “Ah, ah. Give us a kiss.”

Raze snatched it out of her hoof and pushed her aside.

She tapped her saddlebag. “Watch that attitude, mister. So help me, I'll press it.”

“I'm sure your superiors would love that. Marrow would do the same to you, only without the implanted explosives for that personal touch you so rightly deserve.”

“Oh, I'd miss you too, Brandy Buns.”

“Go suck an ass!” he yelled as he galloped and flapped his way into the air.

“Donkeys are a bit too big for me, but they might fit into your big mouth!”

Raze shook his head, happy to be racing out of earshot of Sleepy Shores. The PipBuck was tricky to wrap around his ankle as he flew, but his teeth and dexterous tongue made it work. The screen flashed as it clicked into place. It fizzled and popped a few times before it displayed the green boot up message along with a cheerful chiptune.

Raze grinned at its quaint antiquity. It had been years since he wore Enclave technology, but even his childhood toys made this thing look stone age. It began to emit a horrendous whine which slowly squelched to a more manageable hiss. Its power crystals glowed intermittently. He half-expected one of them to pop, but they kept chugging along.

A familiar heads-up-display faded into view. “Uh oh.” This particular PipBuck's Eyes Forward Sparkle was green. A pleasant enough color, but not different enough from the blue and gray of the sky. He clicked a few knobs until the E.F.S. shone gold against the silver of the clouds. “Nice. Didn't expect you to be customizable. Stable-Tec thought of everything, didn't they?”

He reached the cloud layer and stopped. Years. Deep breath. It had been years. What had he missed? Who was in charge, now? He didn't even know the overseers of this area of the Grand Pegasus Enclave.

He smiled mischievously. One more deep breath and he was tearing through the clouds. Cold water droplets burned his eyes as the PipBuck's radiation meter played a ballad.

The sunlight blinded him as he shot above the cloud cover. His back slapped against the clouds as he dropped from the air and sneezed. He cursed the Steel Rangers for not giving him a pair of sunglasses as he rolled onto his hooves. “Fluffy as always,” he grunted, patting the cloud cover.

Vast, empty plains of clouds surrounded him in all directions, save one. Pegasi were milling about the airship yard and hangars in the distance. Somewhere, in one of those hangars was a sky-tank with a working Pegasus Magic Amplifier. The cool breeze of the elevation rustled through his feathers. The clouds below and clear sky above taunted him.

The amplifier could wait.

Wind roared in his ears as he twisted and twirled through the air. No blasted buildings. No subway cars, and certainly no coffin transports. After the third month of scorching heat in the concrete jungle, the chilled temperature and open nature of the sky reminded his bones what they were made for.

He thought of the past.

Enclave. Lies. Willow Wind. He had carried his regrets for so long they had weaved themselves into his character. Betrayal. Drifting. Lies. The repetitious nature of it all had eaten holes in his tapestry. Year by year, his handlers filled them up with their own yarns. No matter where he made his home a new boss was waiting. A new set of rules. The same desire. The same outcome.

“This is your target. Make it look like an accident. Gang-related. We need that information. That object. We must have it. We're not paying you to stand around. Do it. Now!”

Regardless of their orders, the job always ended the same. Death. Caps. More yarn.

What in the tapestry was truly him? What were the desires of his self-imposed masters? Flying ever higher, he opened his heart. Cares that were not his own revealed themselves, naked to the light. One by one he could feel the fetters drop from his mind and shrivel like insects in the sun. The yarn caught fire.

Faces passed him by. Furrowed brows. Smiling. Crying. Friends and bosses alike blew away like dust in a shaft of light as he floated down to the clouds.

Only one face stared back at him as he landed gently on the fluffy vapor. He stared at her enigmatic expression. You hurt me, Willow. Cut me off from every-fing and everypony. Left me tuh wander in da dirt. It molded me into who I had no sense in becoming. What were you tinkin'? Why did you do what you did?

Her image was inscrutable. It hovered, unblinking. He reached two hooves to the sky, as if cradling her face. I forgive you, baby. Goodbye.

The image scattered and dissolved into the air. Raze felt light-headed. He picked himself back up and felt a nimbleness. He hadn't noticed it had gone missing for so long. So relieved from the burden was he, Raze didn't recognize the emptiness that was stealing over him. This new virtue of forgiveness left him feeling threadbare. If he was no longer a collection of others' desires, then who was he?

But there was another thick yarn weaving itself in. It would take a lot of work to remove. He groaned at the thought. Images of Grandma Riverdance flooded his thoughts as the stitches on his neck burned and itched. One last boss, he thought. Gotta keep my head in the game.

He flapped his wings and headed for the airship yard, feeling foolish for all the time he used up.

The yard was massive. Pegasi by the scores were fixing, washing and inspecting the airships. There were several fairly large, Raptor-sized warships floating on the clouds. Between them were quite a number of bombing chariots being shined. No ThunderHead-Class ships, he noticed as he breathed a sigh of relief. Security will be much more relaxed.

He didn't see any sky-tanks in the field, but noticed a group of them gathered in a hangar The hangar was being “guarded” by a small group of mechanics. He quietly zipped past the mechanics on break and into the hangar. The floor was coated with a flat linoleum, perfect for keeping little parts from being claimed by the ruined city below. He began inspecting the crafts. The first three yielded no working amplifier. The fourth, on the other hand...

Item: WG: CDN: VAL:

Pegasus Magic Amplifier 20 88 1138

Bingo.

Raze hurridly unscrewed the three hoses attached to it, but the bolt holding it to the frame of the sky-tank gave him a fight. He heaved until his coveralls were covered all over with sweat.

“Need some help, there?”

Raze jumped and slammed a knee on the metal frame. “Ouch! Dammit!”

“Woah, now. Careful there son.” The muscled voice was exactly what he expected to hear from a barrel-chested stallion with a bushy, handlebar mustache. This was what Raze thought too, as he stared down at the lanky, wrinkled stallion. Raze thanked his lucky stars the stallion was wearing coveralls similar to his own and not a shiny badge on a crisp military jacket. “Here, let me give you a hoof.”

The cowpony-eyed stallion reached up to help Raze from his precarious position. Raze accepted the help and slid down the side of the sky-tank. He could feel the bruise begin to form on his knee. “Oh, thanks dude.”

The stallion cocked an eyebrow and looked him over. “Think nothing of it. Sorry for startling you.” He was chewing on something as he looked from Raze to the sky-tank and back to Raze. “So, what'cha doing to ol' Wynona, city boy?”

“That obvious, huh?” Raze asked, massaging the bruise.

“Natives down here don't use words like 'dude' willy-nilly. Just you cloud surfer types from Saddle Cruz. Anyway, as I asked: what are you doing to Wynona? I know she's got some problems, but we're not stripping her down yet, are we?”

“Hey, I'm not the one giving orders, brah. I just work here. But nah, I'm just gonna make sure this amplifier squeezes out a bit more juice. They want everything at peak efficiency. I had it my way, works of art like Wynona'd be used as, like, a demonstration for students on how, like, great the workmanship was in old Equestria. Name's Dorsal, by the way.”

“Bucket. Sun Bucket. Let me take a crack at that thing.” Sun Bucket hopped on top of the tank with bravado known only to old mechanics. He glanced around the stubborn bolt, eyelids at half-mast, and produced a ratchet from a pocket. After fitting it around the bolt, he bit down and gave it a lazy tug. The bolt gave away with ease. From then, with all the enthusiasm of a low wage earner on break, he used his hooves to maneuver the ratchet. “Yep, them uppity military types are always wanting a phoenix when all you got are eagles. I keep telling 'em, 'You keep pushing these old machines, they're gonna catch fire and ain't nothing gonna rise from them ashes.' Sometimes I find myself wishing they could all just learn to relax. That war was lost so long ago. She is a beaut, though ain't she?”

“She sure is. Dude, almost cherry, too. She hasn't seen any action in a while?”

Sun Bucket beamed. “Well, she was all kinds of tore up when I got a hold of her. Looked like she hadn't been cleaned up since the Final Day. So, I requisitioned a few parts and threw a little pastern grease into it and here we are. Still having a little trouble with some of the flight controls, but she's almost done.”

The bolt came free with the ratchet and clanged on the roof of the Sky-tank. Sun Bucket screwed the bolt back into the amplifier and floated to the hangar floor.

“Now, you be careful with this thing, you understand?” Sun Bucket commanded. “It might be able to boost enough pegasus power to run a vehicle, but it's still just one-third of the unit. Earth pony construction and unicorn technology'll make it sink in the clouds if you drop it.”

“You're tellin' me! This one time my bud Strato and I are checking out these crazy winds near the ocean and he slipped on a-”

An Enclave officer, full dress trotted in.

“Having fun in here, colts?” the officer asked. Raze could see their frozen reflections in her mirrored aviators.

“Sergeant Irons, ma'am,” Sun Bucket started. “I was just helping to remove this amplifying unit for maintenance.”

“So it would seem.” Raze could feel her eyes dart over to him. “Who's this kid.”

“My name is Dorsal, ma'am,” explained Raze. “I'm here from Saddle Cruz working as a unicorn tech specialist for your-”

“Can it, dust muncher!” In a rush, her glasses-less face was in his. “I was having a conversation with my good buddy, Rust Bucket. If I wanted to hear from you, don't you think I'd let you know?”

“Yes, ma'am!”

“Luna's laconic limbic system! I swear, there are more of you brain-dead, dropout, hacky-sackers than there are dimples on my granny's ass!” She took two deep breaths, careful not to break her stare. “Now, hop back to it, and don't let me catch you fraternizing with my pegasi again. I have enough trouble understanding these hicks without them saying stupid shit like, 'uh, yeah dude, whatever, bro!' Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Raze walked toward the open hangar door and took a stumble at the threshold. The amplifier flew out of his hooves and started sinking slowly into the clouds. He looked up at Sergeant Irons, mouth agape. “It's okay, I got it.”

“Back away from the unit. For your own safety we will have a soldier retrieve it.”

“No, it's okay. I think I can get it.” He reached.

“Do not retrieve the unit. Civilians must not break cloud cover. It's for your own protection”

Raze hovered in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a group of soldiers move in.

“I repeat: do not break cloud cover or we will drop you from the sky!” She unholstered her plasma pistol.

The E.F.S.'s lifesign indicator dots clicked from a sea of gold to an angry red. He cursed his unlucky stars and flipped backward into the clouds.

Sergeant Irons' orders rang behind him. The chase was on. He snagged the amplifier on his way down. Again the moisture burned his eyes. He wiped the tears away as he shot out of the clouds.

The ground rushed at him. Skyscrapers clawed upward to seize him. Raze flapped hard to meet their grasp. Heat waves from their concrete beat him as he weaved through their bones. His coveralls stuck with sweat.

Pink beams burned into nearby buildings. Energy weapons. Raze rounded a ruined hotel. A giant flying insect? No. Enclave power armor! He stopped flapping and plummeted, narrowly missing another beam. Its bright heat burned a colorful hole into his vision and made him sneeze, again.

He flapped blindly as he fell. The familiar zaps and heat surrounded him. The shuddering stopped. Eyes opened. Shapes of buildings took side-stage. The multicolored blindspot commanded center.

He fluttered erratically, as he tried to regain his bearings. He torpedoed through an alley. Around the corner. Past a greasy spoon. A pharmacy. Another alley.

He hit his bruised leg on a dumpster. “Ack! Fuck me!”

Come on, Raze. It hasn't been dat long since yiz seen Enclave armor. What were ya tinkin'?

More clicks and zaps. Raze took solace in their terrible aim, but knew he couldn't dodge them forever.

He hurled himself out the alleyway. “Yiz guys wanna fight five against one, eh?” he whispered to himself mid-flight. “Let's see if we can even duh odds.”

The barrage continued as he zig-zagged through the open air. A beam blazed through his coveralls and hit his flank. He jerked. The PipBuck beeped. Warning signals flashed throughout his E.F.S. Severe burns.

The amplifier fell from his grasp as both dropped altitude. Before they could hit pavement, he reached out and nabbed it. He sped off just above the street. The blast in his side felt almost icy. By now it was bubbling. Adrenaline alone kept him afloat.

He smelled corn and shark. The stew was strong. Moving yellow markers in his E.F.S. They were close by. Blasts scorched the ground as he dropped to the sidewalk. He limped on three legs, the bruised leg holding the amplifier.

Hooves clattered as he rounded another building. Smoke and fire were visible in its shadow. Ponies were milling about them. They turned and stared at him.

“¡Hermanas y hermanos!” he screamed. “¡Enclave! ¡Enclave! ¡En el cielo, mira!”

They followed his advice and stared up into the sky. Immediately after shouting came the cackle of machine gun fire. More shouting. A cheer.

Taking full advantage of the situation, he hopped through a windowless hole in the building and searched for stairs leading to the roof, looking out of the corners of his eyes all the while.

Shots had stopped and a cheer rose up as he opened the door to the roof. They must've had some bad casualties, Raze thought as the cheer vanished as quickly as it had come. It was replaced by the sound of wailing. The filly in Grandma's photograph came to mind. What was her name?

The amplifier felt heavier than before. He stared at it. It glowed and gleamed. In its entire existence it had not seen dirt. He looked down at the roof. Splintered mouths yawned in the its dusty gray. He bit his lip. Sensations of pressure built up at his side as the adrenaline wore off. He choked back a lump in his throat.

What was her name?

The walk back did little to lift his spirits. What would the Steel Rangers have him do next? Grandma was important to him, but guilt pushed in from all sides. Past, present, future. For the first time in a long time he thought about ponies other than himself and the backwash of emotion made him vomit.

Staggering from his own mess, he looked up. The overpass loomed before him. Back to his masters. Back to his cage.

Magical light from the amplifier mingled with the haunting glow of the PipBuck, casting dancing wisps in the gloom of the underpass.

Something felt off.

“Sleepy?” he muttered. The name bounced around like a moth in the dark. “Knight Shores.”

He flew to the other side of the overpass. Something bit hard near his wing and he tumbled to the ground. The pegasus magic amplifier bounced across the cracked road and skidded to a stop some yards away.

“Git 'im, git 'im, git 'im!”

Raze's head reeled. “Oh, you can't be serio-” He felt a gag tighten in his mouth. A black bag was thrown over his head. He found struggling difficult as each of his limbs was pinned by creatures of considerable weight.

“String 'im up. Doc, you have something to make his trip a little easier?”

“Judging by this burn, I believe we should withhold extreme anesthesia for surgery. Med-X on the other hoof...”

Raze grunted as the needle bit into him. It burned for a moment before a wave of numbness washed over him. Through dull senses he assumed he was being tied up. The cart they threw him on had nice shocks; it gently jostled from side to side. The triumvirate of movement, his wound and pain-killers united to seduce him into falling asleep. It was difficult to tell the difference between reality and dreams lying numb in the black bag.

Raze sat on the stained mattress. Smoke from burning incense danced around his head and played tag with his nostrils. Cinnamon. Sweat. He was back in Friendship City. Drawings of home littered the floor. A caricature of Willow Wind demanded his attention. He knew he shouldn't brood over it, but its pull was too powerful.

And there she was, teeth too big and white to be real. Smiling eyes. Flowing mane.

A few tears rolled out. The lump in his throat wouldn't be held down any longer. “Why'd you do it, missy? What'd dey tell you?”

She frowned. Her mane cascaded out of the page and spilled onto the floor, fluttering in some mystical breeze. Her muzzle squared out and her fur burned into a golden orange. He stared back on himself.

Something rattled around in his mouth. He spat it out into a hoof. A tooth.

“Your choice,” said the paper specter.

The head began to inflate. It broke out of the page and crashed through the walls of his room. Pictures of memories followed plaster and bits of scratch paper into the abyss beyond. The planet of a face before him yawned. He fell slowly into the colossal version of his own mouth. Flapping and fluttering did nothing to hinder the pull. Like a boat caught in a maelstrom, annihilation was inevitable.

A molar cracked and its top shattered. The resulting whirlwind broke apart the remaining teeth and sucked them into the howling maw in the molar. Raze followed suit and found himself floating in a void. Wind whistling by his ears was his only indication he was falling.

The compound bustled with activity. With the arrival of Raze, plans for the liberation of Stable AW-10 ran through everyponys' minds. Fate passed through the armor prep room. Past the mural of a pony and a zebra bumping hooves. “TOGETHER WE ARE STRONG,” screamed the surrounding text. She walked across the rope bridge to gun maintenance without a glance to the asphalt, twenty stories below.

“How's it goin', Fate?” asked a yellow unicorn stallion, carefully cleaning firearms.

She stalled, making sure to give him a moment. “Going well, JB. You?”

“Just thankful I'm not on the bottom floor. That heat wave is still killer. Goin' to talk to the prisoner?”

“He's our guest, Jukebox. I hope you realize we don't intend to keep him incarcerated.”

“I get it. Just make it very attractive to stay, eh?” He circled a hoof around like he was disciplining a foal.

“Ugh. JB, grow up.” Her eyes made a barrel roll as she stormed out of the room. Jukebox's laughter followed her into the stairwell.

“One of these days, Fate, you're gonna have to learn how to lighten up, girl!”

Floor twenty-four: the highest in the main building and her stop. She opened the door to a dozen ponies, zonies and zebras hard at work. Each station was decorated by its own mural. There were several radio operators sending coded messages underneath silhouettes of a pony and zebra talking, denoted “COMMUNICATION.” More mohawked workers ticked away at terminals. There's was a painting of the same silhouettes sharing smiles and tears. “HISTORY.” A little zony colt sat on the floor next to his mother's desk and played with a miniature Sparkle~Cola® truck. Fate focused on a group huddled around the large, table map that dominated the center of the room. Looking down from the ceiling was the mural of the sun and moon swimming in a pool of stars.

“MANY SOULS. ONE HEART. INVICTVS.”

“Fate!” said a smiling stallion the color of old greenbacks. “Glad you're here. Planning to have a bit of a heart-to-heart with our little orange friend?”

“That's the idea. How's the liberation front?”

“Going well. Last time we spoke she mentioned how excited her filly is to stretch her wings outside. She seemed kinda … well … You know what? Nevermind. I'm sure it's nothing.”

“Come on, Richie. You know I won't stop until I know.”

His face screwed up as if he had taken a bite of something and was not sure if he liked it or not. “Well, she's garbling up some phrases and putting words in strange places. I mean, it could be a stroke or something as simple as that. Maybe I'm over-thinking it.”

“You know Stable-Tec. They ran experiments on almost every stable. Even though all these west-coast ones were privately funded, I’m sure they still found ways to screw things up. Hell, I'm a walking billboard for crazy, Stable-Tec experiments.”

“We all have those memoies, Fate, but there's a silver lining to each of our experiences. You have your telekinetic implant, I have my beguiling charms, and cute fillies and colts like little Warb over there would never have been born. Ah! And there I go playing Devil's advocate again. You go have your chat with orangie back there and I'll stay here trying to convince everypony that drilling into the side of the mountain is the silliest way possible to extract anypony. I mean really, what are you all thinking? I'm sure fate will have no problem convincing him to stay and help out. Even now, his own grandmother is incarcerated by the Steel Rangers. Can you imagine how that...”

Crazy Rich's monologue dimmed as she neared the room where Raze was kept. A pony and zony played cards outside the door.

“Hi, Fate.”

“Hey, Fate.”

“Hi guys,” she responded.

“Heading in?” Fate nodded. “Have fun.”

The room was nearly silent. Fate's breath reverberated deep within her skull. Raze shone like the sun against the blue sheets. The color had returned to his lips. Shakes were gone, too. Doc could certainly work wonders with very little equipment. The IV drip probably didn't hurt, either.

Fate's heart rate quickened. She had waited so long to help those poor pegasi trapped in that stable. Having suffered in the cramped spaces of a stable herself, the thought of living as a pegasus in those same conditions wrenched her heart. In the bed before her lay the best chance to cease their meaningless torment. She prayed.

Celestia, Sister of mercy, give me the words to sway his mind. Soften his heart and let him truly listen. Reveal the truth to him in Your light. Serenity. Peace. Tranquil waters.

Deep breath. “Wakey, wakey,” Fate said, flatly as she slammed the door behind her. Raze's eyelids struggled to open. Fate kicked Doc's stool bedside. She gently slapped his face. “Come on. Can't have you sleeping anymore.”

“Well, hello there,” Raze's drunk voice croaked. “Please tell me this is where my dreams go from freaky to fun.”

“So sorry to disappoint.” Her nonchalance remained steady. First impressions were important. She floated out the medical clipboard with Raze's prognosis and scanned it.

“Thank goodness. I thought a specimen as fine as you couldn't exist outside of fantasy.”

A specimen? Fate flashed back to scalpels and syringes. Observation. Detention. She sighed and muttered to herself, “Oh, Luna please no.” She assumed he meant no harm, but wasn't entirely pleased about the direction the meeting was taking. She looked over at him. His eyes were fixed on the floating clipboard.

“How are you...? I mean, what kind of...?”

“I was a science experiment. A specimen, if you will.”

“Oooh. Okay. You know what? I'm sorry. I was mostly just trying to say-”

“I know what you meant.” She wasted no time changing the subject. “So, I hear you're having Steel Ranger trouble. Also, you know you don't have to hide your accent here. We already know quite a bit about you.”

“Yeah, tanks. Dat makes me feel really safe. Along with deez bed straps I feel ruyght at home.”

“Oh. Didn't realize those were still on.” She started telekinetically unbuckling the belts holding his limbs to the bed frame. “You're a fairly violent sleeper. We thought you'd end up hurting yourself.”

“Ruyght. So, whut's up wit' you and da Steel Rangers? Why do you care?”

“The Steel Rangers are a plague. They see any piece of technology as theirs and are willing to kill to get it. Well, our group has needs too, and when we heard they were going to capture you and Riverdance, we couldn't help but pounce at the opportunity. Here, have some crackers.”

She floated the crackers over to his face. Raze munched at them, tentatively before grabbing the stack out of the air. He shook his head as he chewed. “I really don't follow.”

“Here. Let's get you out of this room. I'll show you around. Help you understand.” She pulled up a wheelchair. “Hop in.”

“Sister, I don't tink I'm gonna be hopping any time soon.” She helped him ease into the chair, careful to not disturb the bandage on his side. She used her telekinesis to push him and his IV out of the room and into the hallway.

The card-playing duo gave Raze a smile. “Glad to have you with us, buddy,” said the pony. He looked back to his zony friend. “Do you have any eight's?”

The zony leaned in. “Go. Fish.”

They strolled through the hallway and into the main room. Crazy Rich twisted his head and stared at the pathetic orange pegasus int the wheelchair. His face lit up.

“Thank the Goddesses and stars!” he said, rushing over. “I'm so glad to see you up and about. Well, almost up, but we'll get all that sorted. Fate, dear did you fill him in on what we're doing?”

“Not yet, Richie,” she said. “Giving him the tour right now. I think he'll figure it out.” She turned her head to notice Warb, the little zony colt admiring Raze's wings.

“Can I touch them?” he squeaked. Raze nodded with a slightly confused look on his face. Warb gently touched the feathers with his lips. “Can you weally fly? How fast can you go? Did you evoh meet the bad ponies in the sky?”

Fate watched the corners of Raze's mouth curl up. It was obvious to her that his experience with colts and fillies was limited as his answers weren't exactly forthcoming. He looked up at her, like a child asking permission. She nodded and gave a little smile of her own.

“To answer your questions,” Raze told the young zony. “Yes. Pretty fast and not all of da ponies in da sky are bad. Dey're just caught in a bad situation.”

“My mom says that soon, I'm going to get a lot of cousins who have wings, and we'll all live togethoh and they can fly.”

“Is dat so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, dat's just great. I have to go talk with dis nice mare now, okay? Nice meeting you.” He put out his hoof for him to bump.

“Uh-huh,” Warb said as he ran back to his toy truck and created a scenario in which everypony died and was then brought back to life through some kind of star magic.

“That was adorable,” said Crazy Rich. “You two have fun talking. I have to have a chat with our other guest. She's having some issues adjusting. Nice meeting you face-to-face, Raze.”

“Likewise,” said Raze, trundling out of the room with Fate in tow.

“You gotta be kiddin' me,” Raze said as he toyed with the detonator.

“Sorry, Raze, but you're going to have to live with it until you can find some way to get it removed,” said Fate. Watching his face was a grab bag of emotions. Knowing the explosive was still inside of him but having the detonator to himself couldn't have been easy to accept. A change of subject seemed merciful. “Ordering you to stay goes against my values, so I really hope I convinced you to help us. It would change everything.”

“Dis is a really nice community you have here.” Raze stared out over the city of Applewood, and itched the stitches at the back of his neck. “Tank you, by da way. For saving Frank. I know he's a weasel and a dick wagon, but he's not so bad... specially for one uh dem Fire Stone types, right? Hope he didn't give you a hard time. Hmmph. Why do you feel you need to expand, anyway?”

“Yeah, Frank and I met under some interesting circumstances. Suffice it to say: the shower I had when I got back was the best I ever had.” Raze chuckled as Fate sighed. “It's not that we want to expand. We just want to make sure everypony is given the same chance. Nopony should have to live their live enslaved to others.” And if a lot of the freed ponies in that bunker wish to join the cause, I won't stop them, was the thought she kept to herself. Her hope beyond hope. All equines following their own heart, living up to their own standards, and living harmoniously together. It made butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Okay, okay. For my own benefit, lemme get dis all straight. Dere's a stable full of pegasi and you need me to get da door to open, because da terminal lock is made of cloud stuff. But it sucks, because it's ruyght in da middle of Applewood Hills wit' all doze bloodwings. So you're gonna need a pretty big Steel Ranger group to escort all da refugees back to safety. And you're gonna get said Steel Rangers by dangling me and what's-her-face as bait in front of dem. Dat about ruyght?”

“You forgot all the technology that will tempt them. But yes, that's basically it.”

“I still don't see whut I'm getting out of dis. Looks luyk I’m still gonna have to go back to da Rangers.”

“We're not going to stop until all ponies are free from tyranny, Raze.”

“Huh. Oh! I tink I'm beginning to see da picture. Listen, sister. Da Steel Rangers aren't a little group. How do you tink you're gonna be able to take 'em down wit' just who you got? Even wit' a few batallions, you're looking at a full-scale siege you're not gonna win.”

“Of course we can't beat their firepower, but we will have many opportunities to wreak havoc on the inside. Crazy Rich has an extensive plan. Reliable sources have already made it known that our ideology is spreading from within their ranks. Ponies are sick of being subject to the whims of others, especially when it preys on those less fortunate.”

“Reliable sources, huh?” Raze shook his head. “You ponies are batshit crazy. I like it!”

“So, you'll help us?”

“I'll be your bait only if you answer me one ting.”

“What is it?”

“Were you born on day zero?”

“What? What kind of question is that?”

“Because you're da bomb.”

“Pfff!” She turned tail and walked out of the room, but Raze's voice followed her into the stairwell.

“One of dese days I'm gonna show you how to lighten up, girl. Gonna have to get used to me seein' as how we're gonna be workin' together! Den we're gonna go on dat date I know you been tinkin' about!” Fate chuckled to herself at his desperation as she trudged down stairs. She enjoyed having the upper hoof.

“I'm a married stallion, Knight Shores,” said Crazy Rich. Sleepy Shores slipped off her precarious position on the table and sunk to the floor. She had never before faced such stonewall rejection. “It's not going to work on me. Let's talk about Paladin Trueheart some more. His values seem to clash regularly with the higher-ups, isn't that right?”

Her eyes wandered about the room. They stopped on a reflection of bottle caps. Bottle caps on a green bottom. Her frustration melted. “What if I told you, you could be very rich.”

“I'm already crazy rich. Shoot, it's my name!” He laughed at his own attempt at humor. “I'm going to get rich off of this whole ordeal anyway.”

Her smile gained traction. “No, I don't think you understand me. The brotherhood is jumpy. I'm not sure they're going to keep the topside standing. It's not like they need anything from up here. We have all we need in the bunker.”

“That's not what I hear. From what I hear, you guys are scared you're going to lose your precious food supplies. Some of you are even trading with us 'savages.' I mean, that's saying something.”

“Fuck Trueheart. That nag isn't representative of the majority of us. The Elders want to wipe the slate clean. Start fresh.”

Crazy Rich shook his smirking head.

“Don't believe me?” she asked. “Fine. I won't tell you about what the BP-16 stole from the Mascarponies before they wiped them out. I also won't tell you about our Elders' final solution. I'm sure you'll change your tune when you and your family start frying in what's gonna be cooking.”

Sleepy Shores giggled at his frown.

“So,” she said. “You want to stay crazy rich?”

Author's Notes:

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.”