Fallout: Equestria, Darkness Falls

“Ugh!”

I covered my ears in a futile attempt to save my hearing from the metallic screech of the ancient seal. Such a horrendous sound that could wake the dead!

The goodbye was short and sweet. Dawn and Harmonics had seen me off, along with Golden Belle and Star Key. Later on they would announce my intentions and reasonings with the rest of the Stable, as time was of the essence with this situation. The longer I delayed, the harder my task would be and the longer it would take to apprehend Whiskey.

I sighed in relief as the infernal noise finally ceased, and eagerly let my forehooves down from my ears.

Beyond the seal had been darkness. Not just any darkness, but absolute black. No light and very little sound; my one companion seemed to be some sort of steady drip of liquid that echoed off of whatever the walls may have been in the shroud of shadows. I couldn’t even see my own muzzle! Of course, it did not help that my coat is a charcoal black, either.

I’m not sure how long I stood in the relative silence. Nothing else happened, and that was perhaps more worrisome than a wall of cacophonous sound.. I never recalled such utter silence anywhere else in the Stable. There was always something; the hum of the lights, some pony’s hooves clopping away in the halls, the soft sound of Harmonics’ music playing over the PA system.

Nothing but that slow and steady drip... drip... drip...

My ears pasted against my head and I sat back on the cold, hard, metallic floor just outside of the Stable door. It felt rougher than the white metal that made up Stable 46. only rougher than the white metal that made up Stable 46.

If I could only find my Pipbuck light…

I pawed at my left foreleg as I tried to find the confounded light switch, and jumped when it finally clicked on. It did little to penetrate the dark curtain around me.

The floor beneath my hooves was a very ugly gray with splotches of red here and there, like the ground was diseased beneath me. A glance behind and I saw the ancient seal from this side; it was identical to its interior -- a circular portal with geared teeth and the number ‘0046’ inscribed in the center -- save for more red splotches and lots of dust. Particles of the disturbed grime floated in the air like a malevolent miasma.

Out in front of me lay what was beyond. The metal I stood on ended and rough, wet rock expanded forth. The walls non-uniform and uneven, striated in colors of red, gray and brown. The room was not rectangular, more like an oval mouth, complete with teeth shorn of the same rock. Each spike on the floor had a partner that hung from the ceiling.

I gulped. Maybe this is the mouth of an enormous demon, its mouth against my home, waiting for prey.

I quietly made my way off the platform, unwilling to make more noise than necessary, just in case I was right. My pipbuck’s small light struggled with the darkness, but like it should have, the illumination peeled away the evil, inch by slow inch.

The princesses gave us the tools of knowledge and light so that we may prevail against evil, within and without. The sermon gave me comfort and I more confidently carried on, my only companion the steady drip of what had to be water in my odd surroundings. It helped that as time crawled by, nothing leapt out to attack me, save for my own imagination once in a fair while.

Much of the way stayed the same and I began to wonder how much farther I had to go. Granted, my pace was slow and cautious; every moment I expected something to jump out at me, some demon eager to claim my soul for his own.

The wall to my right gradually changed from the rough rock to smooth metal. Once I moved closer to investigate, I could see a rectangle of steel, bisected in half with a barely seen line. I blinked, curious, and saw faded glyphs on the metal; I could barely make out what they said, though after moments of squinting at them, I finally made sense of them:

This appeared to be some kind of different portal to Celestia-knows-where. It was made of the same metal, yet I did not recognize any of the runes or their meaning.

“Hmmm.” I examined the strange wall for anything that might tell me what it was used for. Perhaps this was Cerberus’ prison, the massive guardian on the other side struggling to escape. Though, it could have been anything as I simply had no realistic idea. If there is a caged guardian of tartarus on the other side, he was being awfully quiet.

Though… even more puzzling as I looked around the dank, dark space…

“There’s no other way out,” I whispered as my ears folded, and it made my heart sink.

There was nothing other than this metal door and the ‘teeth’ I had seen earlier. Just where had Whiskey gone to? My eyes could see no possible way to operate this...Door? Device? Portal? Even as I made my way from corner to corner I could spy nothing.

A quick peek at my pipbuck reported that I had been doing this for nearly an hour!

“Arrgh!” I stomped the floor. “How does this confounded thing work!?” I then pounded on the door once, wincing at the discomfort in my foreleg as the metallic wall simply gave a weak twang. Other than that, my assault went unnoticed.

As I continued to stare at the defiant door, my ear twitched and folded at the sudden influx of a cold breeze…

Wait. A cold breeze? In here? I felt no such thing outside the stable door. In the arboretum, the ventilation systems would blow with just a bit more power than in the rest of the stable; this was to circulate the recycled air and bring a ‘freshness’.

I turned to the dark direction I thought it came from and was met with an elevated platform laiden with a jawline of teeth. But I felt it again, along with the gentlest whistle of air as I listened intently. Upon closer inspection I found a way through the teeth to reach the platform, and after an arduous climb -- and a couple of painful falls -- I reached a small summit just big enough for me and maybe somepony else to stand on without being too crowded.

The whistle grew stronger and slightly colder from where I stood now. Its source became apparent too, as the wall had a crack large enough for me to weave my way through. Assuming that Whiskey was unable to open the door, this must have been the way he departed. Either way it was to be my only way to proceed forward.

“Here we go…” I said to myself and took a deep breath. I was certainly not claustrophobic, but such a tight space in a strange land made me uncomfortable. Only a few feet in and I had to unfasten my saddlebags to fit, levitating the bags just behind me.

It was slow going. The uneven ground made the already treacherous and narrow path that much more difficult to navigate. More than once a sharp edge of rock would poke at my side, or the poor light that my pipbuck afforded me wouldn’t illuminate an outstretched length of rock before it could bop my head. I added some light from my own horn to assist, though this put a strain on my horn as I was never used to using multiple spells at the same time.

I bet that Petal and Flicker could do this with ease, I thought to myself and I almost wished I had brought somepony with me. Already, these deplorable conditions had me wanting to go back to the door and ask to be let back in.

Traversing the long, craggy ‘hall’ was a task in and of itself. As I went, the gentle breeze became more frequent and gradually gained strength. Unfortunately, the intensity of the cold gained momentum as well. Soon it stung my cheeks and a few times I had to close my eyes and wait for a lull, lest I knock myself out on a rock.

Dumb rocks. I chastised my surroundings. If I could just…

Oh! I stared at the saddlebags and grinned. I had been levitating them high, an attempt to keep them from getting damaged and preserving their contents. I lowered my bags and used them as a shield against the growing wind.

Perfect! I chuckled softly, even as the cold began to make me shiver.

The wind kept getting worse, as did the cold. But after a short while of this I could see the faintest illumination bouncing off the rock walls. I had a feeling I must have been close, and this spurred me on towards my goal. My curiosity grew as I trudged closer towards… something. I had absolutely no idea what I would find, but I reminded myself that this had to be done.

No matter what I find, I must press on. I have to find Whiskey and bring him to justice for his crimes. And--

My thoughts were interrupted as something cold landed on my nose. I blinked and went cross-eyed while trying to look at it. Within seconds it disappeared, leaving my nose wet.

“Huh?” I blinked again, and as I refocused my eyes, I saw more of the strange white specks flowing in my confined space. There were only a few, and as soon as they touched me or the wall, they would vanish. This happened everywhere except for the ground at my hooves, which was blanketed in a thin sheet of the cold, white… whatever it was.

It didn’t seem malevolent, aside from the brief spike of cold whenever it touched a part of me that wasn’t covered by my robes, so I pressed on. Perhaps if I meet anypony that is friendly -- despite how remote that possibility may be -- maybe they can inform me as to what this is.

As I moved, more of the strange white specks appeared with the growing light. Soon the passageway had deposits of the stuff on the walls. Particularly the floor as it crunched under my hooves, leaving prints that bore witness to my travels. I kept a steady pace, my bags acting as a shield against the wind, as I made my way through the crevice.

How far does this passage go?

I soon found out as the narrow rocks rather suddenly gave way to open space.

The rough-hewn walls to either side of me abruptly ended and the ground became flat and relatively even. Pure white met my hooves as the sheer abyssal formed out before me. The white stuff covered the ground, falling from the enormous sheet of gray that appeared impossibly far above my head, yet eerily near. This room was larger and more prominent than anything else in Stable 46. So much so that I hardly believed it was real.

I stared. And stared. And stared. My jaw agape, ears folded and a primal fear wrenching my stomach into knots as a thousand questions rapidly ran through my mind.

What is this? Where am I? Why is this room so huge!?

I whimpered softly as my hind legs gave out, then the soft crunch of my saddle bags against the ground -- my horn’s magic had given out as my concentration was utterly shattered.

Not only was I in some kind of huge room that was beyond comprehension, but I was apparently very high up. Just beyond the ledge where I emerged, the ground stretched on forever below me. So far below, that all the unrecognizable things looked like toys to me, just outside hoof’s reach.

Some form of structures -- regular rectangles with jagged edges -- clustered up seemingly forever away. They branched out in some kind of circle, the epicenter of which was dominated by the largest of them, then tapered out to smaller structures and monuments, the middle of which was bisected by a thin, wavy blue line that reminded me of a much larger version of the stream that ran through 46’s arboretum.

Dizziness blurred my vision and I had to squint my eyes shut, lest I lose my sanity from this hellish sight. Don’t look, Silver, it has got to be some kind of evil spell that intends you ill will. I took a deep breath and steeled myself as best I could, using my goal of finding Whiskey to direct me.

I peeked down the precipice of where I sat. Far below I could see more of the odd structures, much smaller and clearly in neglectful disrepair. It was my best bet so far.

The only problem was how I was supposed to get there…

To say that the way down was arduous and dangerous would have been very gross understatements. Here and now I was convinced that this tartarus was working against me in ways so unfathomable, I believed the Princesses’ light and guidance were challenged to help me.

While I had a significant width of path to walk down, it was never consistent. I had to navigate crumbling remains in constant fear of whether the rock ledge would give under my weight every few dozen feet. So paranoid was I of the potential, disastrous occurrence that I took to tossing my saddle bags ahead of me to decrease weight.

Even this took an unforeseen toll. In my days in Stable 46, I never needed to lift more than a light book with my telekinesis, let alone a fully-loaded saddle bag. The dull, complaining ache in my forehead spoke volumes; if I didn’t rest my horn soon, I would exhaust myself, let alone induce a rather unpleasant migraine

How much farther do I have to go?

A glance downward gave me the answer. The trek down the side of the monolith that housed my home took me some distance from the mysterious structures I had spotted from above. A distance that was thankfully not insurmountable, even with my drained energy.

“Phew…” I breathed a sigh of relief that the climb was nearly over. Every step was a worry that I would fall to my death. I simply must be careful.

Once the beginning of this path ended, the structures were at last within easy sight.

To say that these were in ‘neglectful disrepair’ was an understatement as well. I recognized what must have been windows, blown-out and even destroyed altogether. Many of the wooden walls were gouged with gaping holes, even those that were constructed of what looked to me like smooth rock . Alleyways between each were cluttered with various debris and refuse; barrels, bags of Celestia-knows-what, and large metal bins. Lastly the husks of wheeled things were strewn about here and there, everything coated in the white stuff I had seen everywhere since I departed the monolith’s crack.

I stood at a distance and watched the desolate area before me. There was no sign of movement, no indication of the Princesses’ light anywhere. A forsaken deadland.

My senses insisted that I leave the foreboding omen behind. Surely Whiskey would not be there. It appears as if there is nothing to be had --

Movement caught my eye and disrupted my train of thought.

From a broken wall emerged a pony. At first I thought that maybe I had gotten lucky and Whiskey was indeed here, but everything about the pony was different than my query. The pony barely wobbled out from the hole, the lithe, skinny frame told me that this newcomer was a mare and not one of the weird ‘stallions’ that Whiskey was. Blue coat, short and messy red mane, and clothing that has seen far better days. She stumbled along as if her hooves were unwieldy mallets, criss-crossed in a daze.

The last thing I noticed was the clear point of a unicorn horn on her head.

She needs my help.

I trotted my way forward at a steady pace, ready to put my limited knowledge of medicine to use. I learned a decent portion of what I knew from Genesis and Gauze, and with any luck, it would be enough. As I got closer, her wounds became clearer to me, and I was relieved to see they didn’t seem life-threatening.

I had to hold my breath as I got near. The strongest, most putrid stench of Celestia-knows-what just radiated off of her. The semi-pained groaning spurred me on as she knelt on her forelegs.

“Are you hurt?” I asked tenderly, knowing the answer as I examined many cuts and bruises. It was more to see if she was cognizant enough to respond. Goddesses, what happened to her? “Just relax, I can help you…”

Without hesitation I took off my saddle-bags to take out what I would need. Thankfully I packed several things I believed I would have use for in my journey; among food, provisions and holy charms, I packed limited medical supplies. Disinfectant and bandages would have to suffice.

The mare continued to groan. “Don’t worry,” I softly encouraged as I looked, “you’re going to be fine…”

That groaning turned to quiet giggling. Then, in a tone that could not have been sane, she muttered “But you’re not gonna to be…”

I blinked. Wha…?

“I’m not--” My breath froze at the manic, wide-eyed look the mare gave me. That look of crazed insanity that sent nothing but chilling fear down every link in my spine. The widest grin bore back at me, her eyes wide and pupils shrunk, with nothing short of malice. Something was horribly wrong.

She giggled madly as her horn flared, then everything went black.

“Silver?

“Silvie, it’s time to wake up.”

The voice of my guardian stirred me to consciousness. My head hurt. The last thing I wanted to do was go to a sermon with such a headache bothering me. The chilling bite of the air wasn’t helping either.

I mumbled my displeasure, unwilling to go. As I did so, I tried to paw for my comforter, though my body just did not respond to my dreary commands. Somehow it must have been a hard night for me; I was not usually this disagreeable.

My guardian tsked softly, then chuckled in amusement. “Come now, Silvie, you know that if you are to be High Priestess one day, you need to learn your sermons.”

I pulled the covers over me with magic, shrouded from the world around me and trying to ward off this persistent cold. While I knew Dawn was right, I still had no desire to get up. Even as a filly it amazed me how Dawn dealt with my obstinance.

“I don’t wannaaaaaa,” I whined foalishly as I retreated further into the pillow. Even so, this did nothing to bring me comfort or even a reprieve from the blasted cold.

Dawn snickered. “Don’t worry sugar, you’re gonna get just what you need.”

I blinked awake. My guardian’s tone abruptly changed. I looked up and stared into what was undoubtedly Eternal Dawn, but everything else was off. Instead of a warm and kind smile that could comfort any crying foal, there stood a malevolent grin. The gentle eyes that could reassure any mare of her place in the Princesses’ light were now cold and filled with some kind of evil that I could not begin to place name or comprehension.

That chilling mockery of her voice continued, “Whether you want it or not!”

Goddesses! Th-this isn’t Dawn! This cannot be!

She came closer, menacingly towering over me. I screamed.

“Ah!” I woke with a bone-jarring start, my head still pounding. Flashes of memory reminded me of the cold, except it was far worse now than before.

The ruins of some kind of massive storeroom stretched on around me in all directions. The only thing I really recognized to make that kind of connection was the rows of metal shelving. Every few rows were crooked and bent noticeably out of place, some of them so severely that traversing down the aisle would have been impossible due to blockage. The place was beyond filthy with trash scattered around the floor; cans, bottles and piles of things I did not want to place a name on. The very air felt contagious. The ceiling in the very center had caved in, destroying the middle of the room with a mound of the white powder from the outside, with more of it slowly floating down from the gaping wound above.

Of course, all of this was overlooked by one other glaring fact.

Everything was upside-down.

“Well, well, well…”

I blinked and went quiet. I steadied my heavy, panicked breathing the best I could to turn my head to the source of the voice. There sat three ponies around a dirty mound that was set ablaze.

“Looks like the prize catch is awake,” a familiar voice said, tinged with dark amusement. On the floor, flipped in my vision, was the mare I was trying to help. Two more joined her that wore dank clothing, dirty and in bad shape much like the mare’s was.

“Oh goodie!” came another voice next to the mare, crazed with excitement. “Please tell me I can tap that now!”

The pony was clearly another stallion, like Whiskey, though his coat was a sickening green that I couldn’t tell was his natural coat or just so dirty that it appeared to be so. His mane was not much better; the grime and grunge was bad enough that I couldn’t discern if it was supposed to be brown or gray. His clothing sported thick padding along his shoulders.

The mare rolled her eyes, but still grinned savagely. “Hold your fucking dick until Bracket gets back.” She chuckled as she shifted her hind legs. “Didn’t you get enough from me?”

“Fuck no.” He exaggeratedly pouted. “You tire out too damn quick, I need some new fucking pussy!”

“Boss said no,” the third chimed in, his voice deep and gravelly. This third stallion was larger than the other two by far. His clothing had spiked metal pads on his shoulders and knees. A scar lined the dark stallion’s muzzle from lip to chin. He lacked a mane and a tail.

The first stallion whined. “Come on, Buckshot! Boss don’t need to know!”

Buckshot growled and shook his head. “No, Cleaver, and if you do I will rip your balls off. Got it?”

The mare snickered at the gruesome threat. I wanted to vomit despite having no clue what he meant. “Oh Goddesses…” Having any part ripped off sounded entirely unpleasant!

“Damnit...” Cleaver sighed, his gaze turned to me. “You assholes suck. I mean look at her! You can’t tell me you don’t wanna pound that plot!”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but my already rebelling stomach churned even more! I tried again to move, my forelegs and hindlegs were bound with scratchy rope that was tied off to the musty raptors above. It’s now that I noticed my saddlebags were gone, as were my robes. All I had left on me was my pipbuck.

I studied the knots and figured I could untie them…

“HEY!”

I yelped as my mane was pulled hard, bringing my swimming gaze back into that of the mare, her horrifyingly angry eyes glaried into mine. Something metal and sharp pressed against the base of my lit horn.

“Bitch!” she screamed at me. “You even try those knots and I will fucking hack that pretty little horn off your head and shove it up your ass!”

Oh Goddesses!!

I whimpered and leaned back as far as I could from her. Cleaver and Buckshot flanked the small mare, their own menacing glares fixated on me. I barely nodded. My voice barely a whisper, “O-Okay!”

That furious glare suddenly turned into that twisted smile once again. “Good,” she said, her tone taking a complete one-eighty as well. “Now that you understand, let’s keep it that way.”

I gulped and nodded, flashing a quick grin as the mare pulled her knife away from my horn.

Cleaver grinned wickedly, then chuckled. “Too bad, that’s my fetish.”

The rest laughed while I was again left in the dark. Fetish?

I cleared my throat gently once things appeared to calm down. “U-uhm, e-excuse me?”

“What is it, meat?” Buckshot growled.

I winced as I hung there. “Wh-what is going on? Why a-are you doing this?”

They stared at me as though I had grown a second horn -- the prospect of which probably would have pleased Cleaver. Then the halls echoed with laughter.

“Wait!” The mare laughed as she held up a grimy hoof up. “Wait, you mean to tell me, you don’t know?”

I shook my head and this just caused her to laugh louder.

Buckshot smirked, the first to quell his amusement, then pointed up at my bound legs. “She’s a stable dweller; her type are dumb as bricks.”

Cleaver muttered something that made Buckshot quite unhappy, earning him a rather disconcerting death-glare.

“Bwahahah!” The mare continued her laughter, then managed to quiet back down. “That explains why she was so eager to ‘help’ me! Never seen a raider before, have ya, honey?”

Raider?

“You’ll find out soon enough, tight-flank,” Cleaver said with a wide grin, a hunger behind it that made my coat stand on end. “Ain’t that right, Shank?”

The now-named Shank spoke, “Pretty much. Bracket’s rounding up slaves to trade to Nexus. The big boss is going through his cargo too fast.”

Cleaver huffed. “I still think we should have a piece of them before handing them over. Especially her.” He nodded in my direction and winked.

A firm stomp from Buckshot ended that sentiment as Cleaver and Shank jumped, the floor rattled under the strong stallion. “No.”

“You’re not nice!” Cleaver complained.

Shank sighed. “Still, wish that Bracket didn’t cave into that freak with the mask. We did just fine on our own.”

Buckshot rolled his eyes in clear disagreement.

I listened quietly as the three talked around the fire as things settled back down. Eventually Shank levitated out a small rectangle and distributed these odd, paper-thin rectangles with simple pictures on one side and more complex images on the other. Each drew from the stack and held what they called a ‘hand’ of them. Many times they would hoot and cheer as one of them clearly won, the others groaning or cursing vehemently at their loss. Most odd of all, they seemed to be trading things that looked like pieces of trash.

Such odd behavior. Is everypony here this crazy?

The time spent suspended like this was irritating me. Blood pooled in my head, the source of my headache while the strain in my limbs steadily caused them to go numb. I tried not to move much, as when I did I would slowly rotate and I did not like the looks Cleaver would give me when my rear was facing him.

As the three played cards and discussed, I did pick up on a few things. These ‘raiders’, as they called themselves, seemed to be in discontentment with each other. Buckshot seemed to support a cause and leadership that Cleaver and Shank didn’t much care for. Shank would often lament about the ‘good old days’ when the group wasn’t under this ‘freak with a mask’. Cleaver’s motivations were simple, and didn’t agree with being unable to do… whatever he wanted to do with me. All I really knew was that I did not want to find out.

I just need a chance to talk to them without Buckshot arou--

Boom.

I gasped in surprise and looked around, the soft thump reminded me of Whiskey’s gun going off down the hall, but lingered slightly and felt more powerful.

Shank grinned. “Sounds like another bastard hit the minefield.”

Buckshot nodded and stood up. “Ee’yup.” The large stallion donned an odd contraption onto his back and buckled it on. It looked like it could have been a saddlebag, but instead of bags it had these thick pipes with round drums. Then went for a blown-out section of wall with ruined drapes over the entrance. “I’ll check it out.”

I blinked, then fought back a grin. Perfect!

I waited for a little bit, then, “So…”

Shank stared at me, as did Cleaver.

“What?” Shank replied when I did not.

I fidgeted a bit, trying to ease my aching legs. “So, who is ‘Bracket’, exactly?”

Shank smiled. “He’s our leader, and a damned good one. We did good under him, and we even had plans to hit Reprieve’s heavier caravans!” She sighed somewhat wistfully, an expression that seemed to annoy Cleaver.

Speaking of whom. “Yeah, until that freak came around…”

“Freak?” I asked.

For a moment Shank seemed confused. “Oh, right... stupid stable dweller.” She sing-songed the insult with an unnerving bob of her head. “I forgot. Some big shot from Saddle Arabia. Came here and demanded Bracket’s obedience. Boss refused at first, but that freak did something.”

“Uh-huh,” Cleaver replied with a nod. “Him and that freak trotted off a distance and didn’t come back for a while. But when they did, Bracket announced we were joining, no questions asked. Anyone that spoke out got their asses kicked. Hard.”

Shank nodded slowly.

Interesting. “And you two don’t like him?”

They both sighed, then Shank spoke up. “Fuck no. We were better off with only Bracket.” She huffed with a heavy, resentful scowl. “Celestia-damned bastard.”

Celestia WHAT!?

“Don’t say that!” I glared at her, my head throbbed even more at this unabashed heresy. No pony takes Their name in vain!

She laughed. “Oh, seems I struck a nerve. And if you don’t like it then you can take it up with my complaint department!” She waved her large knife around to emphasize her point.

I growled but held my tongue. Much as I wanted to berate her, I was in little position to ward off any kind of attack. I refocused; I need to get this sorted before their friend came back.

“Anyway,” I restarted. “Why is it that you and the others don’t simply convince Bracket to abandon this, um, ‘freak’? Surely if enough of you disagree he will side with you.”

“Pfft. Not with Buckshot brown-nosing up to the asshole. He’s all for the prick’s new way of doing things. And it sucks for me because all I can fuck now is this slut!” He pointed at Shank.

“Fuck you!” Shank glared.

Cleaver continued with a smirk, “Buckshot’s, like, the biggest of us. No one can take him on.”

And there we go. “Hm. No one.” I gave a grin of my own. “But with teamwork, surely both of you could convince him? Then Bracket would be in a better position to resume control. Isn’t that what you want? To go back to what you were doing before?”

They both stared at me, jaws agape and astonished at the simple idea. Those stares soon went to each other, and they both grinned madly.

“Ya know,” Shank began with a disturbing sweetness to her voice. “You stable dwellers aren’t so stupid after all.”

I blinked and wasn’t sure if I was just complimented or not. Shank and Cleaver gathered their things and trotted beyond the campfire’s light, and soon I was left in silence with the gentle crackling of the fire.

Perfect. Now they’ll settle their differences and I can use this distraction to free myself. Plus, they’ll be better off with their boss back in charge. Everypony wins!

I scanned the room as best as I could, trying to make sure that Shank and Cleaver were not watching me from somewhere. Luckily I was hanging just beyond the fire’s light, so they would not see what I was doing. I checked the improvised doorway for Buckshot’s return, and lit my horn as softly as I could.

I peered down my snout, trying to not make it look like I was looking at my bonds. I just need to get these loose, then, hopefully I can…

My ears quirked as heavy hoof-falls came closer and I looked up. Buckshot came through the curtain and he started to come my way.

I froze and immediately doused my horn.

Buckshot quirked an eyebrow at the only pony immediately visible. His maw opened, about to ask the obvious about where his two friends had gone, when a clatter resounded through the room.

He frowned. “Cleaver? Shank? The hell’d you go?” He spared one more glance at me, then started off down one of the messy aisles.

Soon as he left, I lit more horn again, quieted down and concentrated on the knots. They were tight, and it didn’t help that I needed to be subtle.

My ears strained to hear where Buckshot was, all to make sure he wasn’t about to come up and snap my horn off. The mental image made me cringe, I had to fight the urge to move faster.

Spine-tingling chuckling of female -- and psychotic --- origin echoed softly through the room, like the demonic spirits of the afterlife.

Buckshot spoke up from somewhere, “Shank? You two shitheads fucking again…?”

The giggling continued, and it took me a moment to refocus on my task. These ponies were scary and I wanted as far away from them as my legs could carry me! The first knot came undone with a barely-suppressed squee.

Yes! Two more to g--

“We SEE you~!”

The deep-voiced, pained cry of Buckshot filled the quiet air, followed by a deafening crash. The giggling grew more maniacal.

“AUGH! YOU MOTHERFUKING!!”

BANG, BANG!!

Two simultaneous thunderclaps filled the air and I shrieked! It had to be the odd contraptions Buckshot took with him, some other form of death like what Whiskey had.

I don’t have time to be subtle!!

I glowed my horn and really went to work on the knots, my body trembled as my heart pounded frantically. What are they doing!? I wanted them to convince Buckshot, not kill him!!

BANG, BANG!!

Two more simultaneous booms, the horrible sounds of shrieking mixed with maniacal giggles. It took all I had to suppress the panicked shrieks that wanted to erupt from my lungs. The second knot gave, my bonds lurched to the ground, but I was not free yet.

CRASH!!

I screamed as a nearby shelf erupted, the old, abused metal shattered and a ball of living chaos spilled forth. The tornado demolished the fire, sending burning embers and hot trash flying in all directions. I barely got a look at Buckshot, Shank and Cleaver brawling it out, the former covered in cuts and the latter two peppered in bruises.

BANG, BANG!!

“AHHHH!” The ground suddenly came up to greet me, the ropes severed as Buckshot’s terrifying weapons fired! I shook and curled up, questioning whether I was alive or not from the near-miss. Burning fire stung my thigh, I had landed on a red-hot tin can! I rolled, scrambling off into some of the cold, white stuff in the room. Instant relief sunk into my leg.

At least one thing here isn’t trying to kill me...

Suddenly the room became a lot brighter. Many of the disturbed, inflamed bits of improvised fuel had found their way to old wooden tables, chairs, and even old posters with disturbing images painted over the originals. I stood corrected...

My three captors were still going at it. Shank and Cleaver clung to the massive frame of Buckshot, stabbing, biting and kicking. Tables and chairs shattered as the huge pony would throw one of the smaller ones off, take aim with the horrifying weapons on his sides, only to miss as the other pounced on him.

I don’t know how long I stared or how long this atrocious cycle repeated. Blood everywhere, horrendous cuts and injuries. At one point Buckshot had a horrendous bite on the side of his neck that bled freely, and Shank had a broken foreleg. It greatly hindered her the next time Buckshot threw her off.

BANG, BANG!!

Shank’s head exploded. And in her side there was a gaping hole filled with shattered bones and pulped organs. The ex-raider went motionless, save for a twitching hind leg.

Suddenly I was back in the hallway in my home, watching Clover die. This was magnitudes worse as Clover’s death had at least been far cleaner, more peaceful, and not fighting for her life as Shank had been. It suddenly clicked in my head what Shank and Cleaver had intended to do, and I had merely been unable to see it. These ponies were absolutely crazy beyond the shadow of a doubt! So sickeningly, unfathomably insane without the Princesses’ light to guide them, that everything they did was nothing but sin and darkness.

Though there was one similarity. The cold way in which Buckshot had killed Shank, much like the pony I was pursuing.

I didn’t feel sick, I was sick! The entire time (which amounted to only a few seconds) my mouth hung open in a silent scream just before my stomach emptied its contents. My mind raced; comprehending my thoughts, what I had just witnessed with my own eyes, and what felt like a thousand other complicated tidbits of information, all of them assaulting me at once!

The sudden crash of dangerously close burning wood snapped me out of it. Goddesses, the roof was collapsing now! The fire had spread and the whole building was ablaze, its structure failing as the fire ate away around me.

Only one thing became important now.

The drapes where Buckshot had left were already burned to ashes and no longer separated the outside world from the hell around me. I raced as fast as I could, the eerie creaks of structural strain kept my eyes upward -- and it paid off, as several seemed intent on crushing me beneath their weight! Crash after crash, followed by my terrified shrieks.

Familiar black cloth caught my eye as I was about to bolt out the door. My saddlebags and robes!

Without thinking, I dashed as quickly as I could, skidding to a halt only once so that the still brawling raiders could roll past me. Soon as the train-wreck of feuding ponies went by, I grabbed my stuff and made for the exit. The whole time the building was roaring, angry that I was trying to escape with my life. Horrid images of the entire structure collapsing, myself trapped and being burned alive flooded my mind and drove my aching legs on faster.

The entrance was nearly within reach…

… when the entire world went loud and dark.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Conversationalist, Level 1 - Passing speech checks against ponies that have half your Intelligence is greatly increased.

Author's Notes:

Finally out of the Stable! Yay~! Now the real fun can begin!

I'm going to try and come up with good perks for Silver to have as she "levels up" but if I happen to skip a chapter with it, then I probably couldn't come up with a relevant perk...

Anywho~ This is my first attempt at some raider madness and I hope that I got it down pat. It was fairly cringe-worthy for me and my primary editor, so yeah~

Thanks for reading and I hope we can all have a fantastic adventure with Silver and the ponies she encounters!