Tick.

There is something about the Wasteland that I never got used to. A terrible, hypnotic beauty? I guess I can call it that. Every place is decaying out there. Ugly. A monument of what was taken from us. RBT-91 was just like every monument in the Equestrian Wasteland.

The hallway I traversed with my two captors -whom I found were named Cheap Shot and Fast Load- was a wreck, but I was able to take in the scenery a bit better. Old, flaking posters dotted the walls. One was of a silhouette of a rock concert, the other was schedules for events. One particular framed poster we passed still had working light bulbs somehow and was illuminating a picture of megaphone surrounded by a wreath. Beneath said symbol was a message:

Then there was a smiley face at the bottom.

It was definitely the most interesting of the posters, but I really didn't get a chance to look at others more in depth since I was forced to keep walking. My two captors were talking to themselves basically the whole time I was aimlessly wandering and silent plotting of my escape, and the gist of their conversation was that they were relieved to be away from the command center. And also scared that they would be hunted by “the bad guys” if the center falls. When it got to be hunted, they decided to ask for my input.

“You're a sadist. How long do you hunt for your enemies?” asked Fast Load.

“As long as it takes... Or until we get bored.” I said, looking at a newer poster of a light purple mare with a puffy mane of purple and red stripes smiling happily into a rising sun with happy, healthy foals around her and a lush farmland seen only in fantasies in the background. Beneath her was: REPUBLIC 61: BUILDING A NEW WORLD.

I gagged at that.

“What, you don't like Sweet Berry?” asked Fast Load.

“She ain't my kind of girl.” I said.

“What's your kind of girl?”

“The kind that shuts up and makes me sandwiches.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less from a sadist,” said Cheap Shot. “Honestly, I wish I could just shoot you and rid Equestria of another useless gene, but I got my orders. Speaking of which, where the hell are you taking us? We've been going all over the place!”

I said: “I can't remember where I slit that Bonnet guy's neck. This place is big and my brain is all dumb 'n shit and can't remember shit for giggles.”

Cheap Shot rolled his eyes. “We got ourselves a winner.”

“The guy's name is Baton,” said Fast Load. “And since we're on the subject, I find it odd that a sadist like you managed to kill him and wrestle a ring on that mare's horn.”

We rounded a corner and passed a Mr. Vendor. The next hallway we entered was just like the other. Plastered with old posters and bulletins, with some advertising concerts, others for charity events and others brightly colored propaganda along the veins of support the troops, support the war, or get out.

So, we're walking, and keeping to character, I asked him: “What's so odd 'bout that? I've killed a lotta guys and sold a lotta gals from here to there. Baton was just another neck to slice and Lilac another mare to sell. Which, I still wanna fuck her when we get back just so we're clear. She's a fine tail and I'd like a taste of her before she's gone.”

“Sure, whatever, pervert. But I'm saying your claim is odd because me and Baton grew up in the same village,” said Fast Load, “and he was shot four times and had his throat slit when he tried to stop a Sixty One soldier from killing his little brother. But the next day he was up and moving and he chased the murderer for a whole year before beating him to death with his bare hooves.”

My steps slowed and I started to feel a bit woozy, but I fought to stay in character and dismissed the story with a scoff.

“So he killed a random soldier, big deal.” I said.

“It is a big deal because the soldier he killed was General Sour Berry, the husband of Chairmare Sweet Berry and a military adviser for Waltz and Ms. Gold for these hills,” said Fast Load.

My steps slowed down considerably after that.

“Yeah, that guy whose throat you supposedly slit killed a General, widowed one of the most powerful warlords of the Wasteland and shook up her plans all in one day after nearly having his throat cut off. So, I'm wondering how a diseased rat like you managed to kill the legendary Baton Armor,” said Cheap Shot.

Then Fast Load added: “We also never said the mare's name was Lilac.”

I saw a room out of the corner of my eye and with nowhere left to run I forced myself to chuckle and braced myself.

“Come on, guys. We're on the same side,” I said.

“I doubt it,” said Fast Load.

Their weapons clicked, and that was when I bolted. I felt like I was launched off a spring the way I flew to that room. The two earth ponies shouted at me, and I slid into the room and slammed the door shut. Gunshots blasted the wall on the other side, and some blew out the window of the door. Seconds later, the door was flung open and I pressed my back against the wall and my hind hooves against the door, using every ounce of strength I could to keep it shut.

Cheap Shot got partially through, so his head and front hoof was wiggling in view and he was swearing up a storm, trying to free himself from the trap. I gritted my teeth and about ripped my muscles apart trying to keep him pinned while I aimed my weapon at him.

“Cheap Shot, stop moving! I can't get a good shot with your flank moving like that!” yelled Fast Load from the other side.

“Fucking Sadist has me stuck!” yelled Cheap Shot.

That was when I pulled the trigger and his head jerked to the side with a circle of dripping red on the wall. Fast Load cried out for Cheap Shot, and I had to duck and cover myself because as soon as Cheap Shot's body slumped to the ground bullets went flying. With them came shrapnel of splintered wood, metal and broken glass. My body was covered in shards, and I felt the heat of the bullets, the air being pushed aside and tiny pieces of lead barely brushing over me. Bullets pinged off of my armor, but a couple breached and burrowed into my flank like hot, metal ants.

I guess I yelped louder than I thought I did because as soon as I did the shooting stopped. What was left of the door was bucked open and Fast Load charged in, battle saddle smoking and eyes red and crazy. I jumped towards him before he could fire and rammed him against the wall.

We both grunted and snarled as we wrestled along the wall on our hind legs, muzzle to muzzle and eyes locked in a vicious stare down. We slammed each other, bashed each other, I bit him him in the neck and he screamed and punched me in the gut, but I managed to keep my teeth into his neck despite my lack of air and we ended up tripping over Cheap Shot's body. From there we rolled over each other on the floor, dealing blows to one another. Punch after punch from Fast Load's armored hooves left my ears ringing and face bloody while mine hardly did anything to him. The cuts were stinging me, my shot flank felt like it had two burning hearts, and my insides felt like shredded meat, but I still fought. I had been through enough shit and wasn't about to get beaten to death looking like a sadist.

Very quickly Fast Load got on top of me and started pressing his hoof down on my my neck. My throat was being crushed underneath his hoof, and his blood and sweat dripped on me as I awkwardly beat against him. I even tried pushing against his face, but it did not work. My lungs started to burn, my heartbeats quickened and everything started to get dizzy and fading. Something happened, though. I'm not entirely sure what, but when I went for another punch that I thought was weak he fell off of me with a yelp, clutching his eye, which was pouring blood.

With him off of me, I rolled to my side, coughing and gasping for air and massaging my throat while I tried to stand on wobbly legs. I fell on my face and everything was spinning, my head felt like a balloon that was trying to float and I wanted to hurl. Then my hoof brushed up against a broken piece of the door. It was sharp and jagged, and I dragged it towards me and picked it up with my mouth.

Fast Load took this opportunity to pounce on me again. This time he was on top of my back and began slamming my head into the dirty floor again and again and again. It left me dizzy and blood trickled from my ear, but I managed to reverse head butt him in the muzzle. I heard a crunch, and he screamed and loosened his grip, and I pushed myself up with a lot of painful difficulty and let myself fall backwards so I was squishing him between myself and the floor.

I rolled a bit, swearing through the jagged piece, and when Fast Load finally let go I scrambled on top of him and sliced his face open from his missing eye to mouth with my bladed hoof. He howled and held his hoof over his gushing wound, kicking his legs wildly and swearing up a storm. I then spit the weapon into my hoof and stabbed him in the neck. He flinched and gurgled, and hot blood sprayed all over my hoof, chest and face, but I kept stabbing and screaming at him.

Over and over again I stabbed him.

I kept stabbing him until he no longer moved or made a sound.

I kept stabbing him even when I was drenched in his blood.

I kept stabbing him and I...

I...

Well, I kept stabbing him.

By the time I was done, I was panting and shaking. Tear, blood, sweat, all of it mixed and fell off of me in globs. I saw my reflection in the pool of blood beside him and his one good eye, wide and terrified, looking at me. I saw my missing ear, my scratched up face, busted muzzle, scars, bone and metal armor. I was looking in a mirror of blood, but I could not look at it long.

I started backing away. My legs, heart, lungs, all of them felt weak, and I fell to the floor, trying to gulp in the rotten air. I couldn't move and I couldn't think straight. I knew I had to get out of that room, but all I could do was sit there and look at the bodies I mutilated by my own hoofs. The hoofs of somepony who was supposed to schedule events and fix clocks.

I was supposed to run the Scheduling Department, marry, have three kids, live a peaceful, controlled life in the Stable and get cremated when it was all over.

Not this. Not sitting in some goat prison awaiting execution by ungrateful fucks because of some bitch who forced me out into this fucking nightmare!

You know, after sitting in that room, watching the bodies, listening to my watch, it really put this idea into my head. I really didn't want to believe it. I couldn't. So I limped into the hallway and slumped against the wall, cringing from the throbbing pain in my flank. I rested my head against my shotgun and tried to force the idea back into the darkness. The barrel was hot and even though it burned me I kept still. I could barely breath. I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't count.

Hell, I couldn't even hear my watch.

I wanted to cry. I really did. I tried to force the tears out to remind myself that I am me. I am Ephemeris Clock. I build clocks and schedule events. I am not Exile. I do not kill. I do not mutilate ponies. I am a scheduler. I do not kill. I build.

I told myself these things, but those words were hollow. They were useless. That was when I knew I wasn't Ephemeris, anymore. Sure, I had the name, but, really, it was just that. It was not me. I was Exile more than I was Emphemeris, and Exile needed to survive. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was after this moment of reflection that I went on autopilot and started to collecting their weapons. Or at least their ammo. I grabbed a few grenades from each of them, which turned out to be a lot heavier than I thought, and their clips, also heavier than I thought. From there, I made my way back to the station's command center.

The walk seemed longer than before and I reached the hallway I started at. My eyes were heavy, my hoofs could barely lift and my breathing was shallow. Every step was a strain and I felt my blood sliding down my shot up leg with each pulse. Then there was the ticking in my ears. Tick tock tick tock tick tock. Every tick every tock matched the flickering lights above, flashing the blood splattered, shot up hallway in darkness and dim light.

In a daze I stepped over a dead soldier. He was shot in the head. Eyes still wide and mouth open. There wasn't even a door to open this time. It was just a hole. When I stepped into the room I found more dead soldiers, more fires, more blood and bullet holes, and I saw Wilhelm execute a soldier holding out a bloody hoof, saying something to him. He sounded like he was begging, but one flash and muffled pop later and his brains were all over the floor. Then Wilhelm turned his weapon towards me out of reflex and I stared at him, feeling an odd sense of absolutely nothing.

Sure I was hurting, but emotionally I wasn't there, and when he lowered his weapon and said something to me I couldn't hear him. The ticking was too loud. Though, I figured out that the ticking was coming from a radio set that Baton and Burst Fire were working on, so I started walking in that direction.

I heard Wilhelm again, and then Stocker, Aria and Lilac came up and lost their colors seeing me like I was. Baton and Burst Fire also turned around and nearly jumped out of their seats. It was only natural to assume that Baton swore since I really could not hear much of anything that they were saying, but even though he held his hoof out in an attempt to stop me I still kept walking towards the communications rig. I heard a voice coming from it, but I couldn't make out the words. I just knew it was a voice and I needed to hear it.

When I was close enough to make out the words no one else was around. There was no Wilhelm. No Aria. No Lilac. No Stocker. No Baton. No Burst Fire. It was only the message.

“Please, somepony help us! We're trapped in a vault in A-1 Mane Enterprise Research Hub, and my friend touched an orb and he won't wake up! There's things out here that won't stop banging and screaming, and their trying to get in! Please, somepony help us!”
Click. Repeat.

“Please, somepony help us! We're trapped in a vault in A-1 Mane Enterprise Research Hub, and my friend touched an orb and he won't wake up! There's things out here that won't stop banging and screaming, and their trying to get in! Please, somepony help us!”

Click. Repeat.

“Please, somepony help us! We're trapped in a vault in A-1 Mane Enterprise Research Hub, and my friend touched an orb and he won't wake up! There's things out here that won't stop banging and screaming, and their trying to get in! Please, somepony help us!”

Click. Repeat.

And on and on it went. On and on I heard and on and on my mind cleared up to the voice of the radio.

The voice of Rose Petal.