[Tock.]

Walking the desolate land that was Equestria was a numbing experience. It was a place where time and life did not exist. All there was, was rocks, rubble, dead mountains and bare hills as far as the eye could see. Equestria was the incarnation of hopelessness. How anybody survived out there was a mystery to me. Hell, at least your country had good areas to work with, but not Equestria. It was dead, through and through.

Anyway, after walking for hours on end down the crumbling road, I found a good spot to catch my breath and give my hoofs a beak, and give myself something to drink since my throat was parched. While I rested, I checked my watch. It had been five hours since I left, and there was no sign of the party that took Ebony.

I looked in the distance and saw the sinking sun barely poking through the gray clouds. Eventually I got bored staring at it and continued walking through the Wasteland once more.

After close to another five hours of wandering I came across another town, and I stared at its entrance, hesitant to enter after the last fiasco. I decided to enter it anyway, hoping to find more food and water since what I took did not last long at all. As I walked through the town, I stole glances at smashed window, raided stores, twisted metal stabbing the ground and a turned over bus with a worn advertisement for a Flim Flam jet-pack on it.

Not too far from the bus was a structure nestled to the side. It looked to be a fuel station of some sort, given its blocky feature and tanks bolted to the ground. The fuel station had all of its windows boarded up and its door was swinging lazily, creaking and moaning with each motion. Nearly all of the signs were gone, too, leaving just blank slates. The only sign left was splintering and hanging by a bolt. It said “Rich Fuel” with some slogan at the bottom that was long faded and warped out of existence.

I carefully stepped inside and immediately covered my nose when I smelled the familiar stench of death and heard flies buzzing. I strained my eyes to see through the darkness caused by the thick dust. The specks that were caught in the weak beams of light were illuminated and a gust of wind pierced through the boards on the window, blowing loose dust and random pieces of paper.

The floor creaked under my hooves, and I felt my paranoia spike with every creak. I turned to every whisper of a sound and jumped when I accidentally kicked away an empty rusted can. I watched the can bounce and clatter across the splintering floor until it came to a stop at the hoof of a unicorn corpse covered in semi dry blood. The blood was all over her face, neck and outfit, and behind her was a spray of dark red that was all over the wall with a single bullet hole at an awkward angle.

I stared at the hole questionably for a moment before I looked at the mare and saw a pistol lying in front of her, and next to her was an open book. I figured she killed herself since the world sucked so much and thought the book was a diary. I was mistaken. I didn’t get to invade somepony’s privacy, I got to read an instructions book. The Mentally Inferior’s Guide to Shooting. The chapter she was on was How to Properly Handle a Gun- Pistols.

Talk about a massive fail.

I quickly realized that she was no ordinary Wastelander. She was wearing a PipBuck and had the blue and yellow trim of a uniform on, albeit with some modifications on like metal plating and spiked shoulder pads and a patch. The patch had a 65 on the forehead of a pony skull with its left eye socket made of a gear.

That little detail aside, I tapped the screen of the dead mare's PipBuck and it flickered to life in a green light with barely any energy left. I saw numbers and stuff scroll across the screen rapidly, and after thirty seconds it went to the main screen with “WARNING: REPLACEMENT HOST NEEDED!” flashing on the bottom. It had one day left on its power supply before it was completely dead and would need a replacement battery. Something I am sure is not made anymore.

It saddened me that I couldn’t take hers since I didn’t have the proper tools to take it off, so I did the next best thing. I scrolled through her menu, looking for a map. I came across the medical section and her head was flashing with a sad face and “CRIPPLED” in bolded letters above it, and I found out what she had in her inventory: medical supplies, the pistol (same as the one I snagged), its ammo and the book that she didn’t know how to read. When I finally got to the map section, my hopes of a quick return to the Stable life diminished.

Stable 65 was clear across the Macintosh Hills, past the Badlands and into the Hayseed Swamps, and across from it, on the other side of a place called Horseshoe Bay and the city of Baltimare, was Stable 61 (marked as Republic 61).

I was not too thrilled about that, especially considering what they did, but further inspection of her map led to me finding out that while the dead mare was an idiot she certainly got around. I saw dozens of discovered locations on her device. There were locations of factories, settlements, train stations, hubs and monuments. There was even a marker labeled “Waltz's Manor” with a little heart next to it. Seeing that, I suddenly got a sick feeling in my stomach as I recalled the dinner I had with Waltz and Lilac.

I pulled out for a full view of the region and studied the map as well as I could, trying to memorize all the locations and see if there were other Stables I could go to besides one that was across from a murderous Stable. I couldn't find more Stables, but I did catch two places not too far from where I was. One was a hub for a “Macintosh Transit Corporation” and the other was a settlement called “Transit”. I tried to get an idea of the best route but I accidentally hit one of the tabs and it switched to her radio. It crackled to life and some obnoxiously cheerful music echoed in the station. When it stopped, a charming mare's voice came on.

“Good evening, my little ponies, it is me, your hostess and Chairmare of Republic Sixty One, Sweet Berry, here for another talk. Many of you are good ponies, just trying to live out your lives in ways of virtue, but it is hard to be virtuous when the world is against you. But fear not, for you will find sanctuary here at Sixty One. The food is plentiful, the water is clean and enough for a warm shower every night. That is right, Republic Sixty One can provide you with civilization. A place where you can live like how we were meant to be. A place of shelter and food and education for your foals and even for you if you desire it. So come on down to Republic Sixty One, and let us build a New World together.”

The music played again and I went to the next screen. It was a note screen with six hundred and eighty two notes.

My jaw hit the floor. I didn’t even have that many notes when I was still running schedules! How the hell was she able to get so many?

Curious, but not wanting to waste my time by going through all of the notes, I took a look the first, which was a recording labeled “Waltz and Me- 13” with another stupid little heart next to it. I played the recording, not caring about her privacy since she was dead anyway and couldn’t yell at me or anything. Plus it stopped the music.

It crackled at first, but when it got to it, I heard a familiar voice accompanying Waltz’s and a third pony, whom I was guessing was the owner of the PipBuck.

“He must be stopped no matter what. He is dangerous to Ms. Gold and the New World,” said Waltz.

“Waltz, you worry too much. Yanker already killed him and his team, remember?” said Lilac.

Waltz snorted in disgust. “You do not know Wilhelm like I do. I want to believe he is capable of death like all of us, but every time he survives us I wonder more about his origins.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting superstitious,” teased the other mare.

“It is not superstition if it is supported by facts, Glamour. He has survived things no one should have and yet is still not crippled. I want to believe that Yanker killed him so we can put this nightmare behind us and build the New World without worry. But a part of me tells me that Wilhelm is alive.” Waltz paused to take an uneasy breath. “I will go to Yanker with Lilac and see his progress. And you must go to Transit and find out what you can about the Restoration. Be discrete, and learn to shoot for Gold’s sake while you’re at it.”

And then it ended with a click. I stared at the screen, watching the little light blink as I thought about one specific line from the message: “I want to believe he is capable of death like all of us, but every time he survives us I wonder more about his origins.”

Waltz, the guy that nearly scared me to death just by looking at him was scared of Wilhelm. I wondered what he meant by “origins”. Did he think that Wilhelm was an alien? A super soldier? Some kind of time traveler with healing powers? I didn't know, but I had a feeling that if Wilhelm was tough enough to scare someone like Waltz, well... Never mind. You could guess that he was bad news for anypony that was on his shit list.

After regaining some sense, I did a quick scroll through the other notes and found out that Glamour was a delivery mare. She delivered whatever needed to be delivered and didn’t have any assignments besides the one Waltz gave her before her untimely death.

I searched her body for the medical stuff and found her last healing potion. I popped the lid off and chugged it like clean water. It was gone in seconds and I spat the container away from me and gagged at the unpleasant taste of rotten orange. Then I collapsed to the ground, grunting and clutching my side when I felt my bones mend. I felt the cracks disappear, the marrow return like stitches and the scabs of my previous cuts fall off with new skin underneath.

I was healed in seconds and I felt great after the pain faded. I only had a bad aftertaste which was something I could deal with easily. I chuckled wildly with joy as relief washed over me, knowing that today I wasn’t going to die. I felt my ear, hoping that it also came back, but I still felt the ridges and sighed with disappointment. It appeared that I would be forever deformed.

I scavenged Glamour’s corpse and took all of the things I could carry. Her saddle, her medical kits, the ammo, the book, caps, and the canteens were all mine now and I was ready to go.

I checked my watch before I peeked outside to see that the minuscule light was fading to darkness. I galloped away from the station and kept running until I was on top of a hill. The night was almost there and I could see a large building in the distance, surrounded by the rotting remains of what appeared to be a shopping plaza. I squinted my eyes and noticed that the large building had a big sign proclaiming it to be Macintosh Transit Corporation.

I didn’t see any lights or smoke, and I really didn’t want to sleep outside, so I took a swig of the canteen for some liquid courage, but got something else instead. I swished the liquid in my mouth, analyzing the odd taste with mixed reactions. It tasted like spinach, and it was thick like a poorly made smoothie. It had leafy chunks in it and I thought I tasted dirt. When I poured just a bit in the bowl of my hoof, I scowled and rubbed the strange smoothie thing off my hoof. It was green and brown, chunky and smelled like baby ass. I threw the canteen away and spat out that shit. If I was going to die out here, it would not be from a bad smoothie.

I stepped inside the building that was named Macintosh Transit Corporation Hub. Thankfully there was nothing horrible on the way over, just some oversized roaches that got acquainted my hoof. The town was just like the other one, too. Lifeless, smashed and looted down to the floors. I didn't search thoroughly, though, since it was dark out by the time I got there and I didn't want to go in blind. And I don't think I would've done any exploring if I had a light of some kind, either, since I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

As for the Macintosh Transit Corporation Hub, “spacious” is one word that can accurately describe it. And if we're going with two, it'd be “spacious” and “dusty”. My hooves slid along the dirty floor, leaving obvious trails, and I felt the dust clog my nose and lungs. I had to stop occasionally to clear them out with a cough or sneeze. Every time I did so, the noises echoed in the halls and I froze in my spot, just waiting for a psycho to come running around the corner.

Luckily nopony came.

I walked past framed posters, unframed posters, and posters that once had frames but were now barely covered. Each poster had something to do with a bus. One had a bus driving majestically down the road with a beautiful sunset behind it, another had a group of ponies filing on a bus, all smiling, and the last had a cheap diagram that showed the intricate design of the large transit vehicle. They had other ones depicting monorails and lightrails and a futuristic train that can supposedly run on solar energy. I thought that that was BS.

Anyway, I continued to explore the building. I checked the offices, which were pretty much void of anything interesting, and I checked the cafeteria. The only thing I found was a skeleton with half their body in an oven. The cafeteria didn't have any food or water, and it honestly sucked because I was low on food, and my stomach was tight and its rumble echoed in the derelict structure. With its rumbling, I dove for cover behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And I think I fell asleep for a minute, too, because as soon as my eyes closed it felt like I was falling. I snapped awake and pushed my hooves out just in time to stop myself from faceplanting the floor. Then I poked my head out and scanned the darkness for any signs of life before I climbed over it and walked back into the maze.

It had been another hour by the time I was able to find a break room, and it was a break room with a map of the Macintosh Hills, too. The room itself was pretty much like the others. It was barren, its floor was grungy and its furniture nearly breaking. Some of the circular tables were tipped over and some of the chairs were missing legs. I figured somepony must've turned them into spears or something.

As I explored the room, I found a couch that felt like a slice of Paradise for me. Its cushion was so soft I didn't even care about the stains on it. And since the window was now a jagged hole in the wall, there was a cool breeze to go with the setup. I didn't care about the breeze, either. It felt good to me.

I laid down on the couch and practically deflated at the blissful feeling of a soft cushion. My heavy eyes were just about to close, too, when I saw it. A flickering light illuminated a “Mr. Vendor” like a beacon of dinner. My mouth watered, and I slid off the couch and walked up to the vending machine. Its screen was covered by a metal shield, and that went away when I pushed a red button next to it. The covering slid up and a display of food appeared. I could've just cried for joy.

They had everything! Preserved apple slices, preserved cake, preserved donuts, and even water and soda! I giggled and pushed the combination to get me some apple slices, but the machine beeped.

“Please insert five bits,” said the machine with a highly robotic stallion's voice.

My smile dipped into a frown and my brows furrowed as I glared at the machine. I hit cancel and pushed the combination for the water.

“Please insert ten bits,” said the machine again.

I screamed and shook the machine. Ten bits for water! I knew for a fact that water was not that expensive, especially at the time period this machine thinks its in. I was being conned by a vending machine, plain and simple.

“Please do not shake Mr. Vendor. Mr. Vendor is very nice and Mr. Vendor would appreciate it if you did not shake him. Shaking Mr. Vendor could lead to Mr. Vendor falling on you, causing serious injury or death. Thank you.”

I huffed, stopped shaking the machine to step back so I could think on how I was going to get my dinner.

“Mr. Vendor thanks you for discontinuing your shaking.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

I punched the glass, leaving a crack in it, and a blinding flash of light erupted from a circle right above the screen. I blinked and stumbled back, and the machine yelled at me.

“MR. VENDOR HAS FOUND YOUR HOSTILITY INEXCUSABLE AND IS NOW BLACKLISTING YOU FROM OTHER MR. VENDORS. PLEASE STANDBY WHILE YOUR PHOTO IS PROCESSED.... ERROR. PHOTO COULD NOT BE PROCESSED. ATTEMPTING CONNECTION.”

I was getting really tired of this “Mr. Vendor” thing, and my stomach agreed with me. With the way it was growling I could eat a whole orchard. While Mr. Vendor repeated his error and attempting connection messages, I stormed away from the vending machine and grabbed a metal stool. I didn't care about the taste of rust or dirt in my mouth, and I swung the stool against its display window until it shattered. Then I took everything I could fit into my saddlebags, and what I couldn't stuff, I had for dinner. A bottle of flat soda and two cans of fruit slices. Sure they were nearly three hundred years old, but they tasted fresh and it I loved it!

After my dinner, I crawled back on the couch, snuggled up with my bags and stared at the door until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

“Well, howdy there, partner, whatcha doin’ sleepin’ on the couch like that?” asked a mare with a country accent the next morning.

At first I thought I was dreaming because her voice was really pleasant, unlike the other psychos that I had dealt with earlier. And it was a nice way to wake up.

Though, that pleasant thought went right out the window when I heard strained gears whirring and clicking. I looked up from the rotten cushion to see a really cute face of yellow mare with a thin green tint, and she had a two tone green mane with two pigtails that had been tied at the bottom with red bows. That beautiful face was on a screen, and the screen was taking up her whole body, which was a big block resting on a pole that looked like it could heighten and lower itself, and that was attached to a big circle, wheel, ball thing on the bottom. She didn’t have hooves. Rather she had thick arms with pudgy hands.

“Whatcha doin’ on the couch, there? Ya waitin’ for the tour?” asked the machine again. Her face switched from a curious look to a teasing smile like somepony flipping the pages to a photo album. It was weird. She extended her hand and said: “I’m Tour Guide Apple Fritter. What is your name, stranger?”

I pressed my hoof against her palm and said: “Just call me ‘Exile’.”

She shook my hoof and giggled, her face picture switching to the appropriate laughing one, saying: “What a cute name! I named my dog ‘Exile’!”

I arched a brow. I found it very hard to believe that she would name a dog “Exile”, much less own a dog to name “Exile”. And if she did, then it would be messed up because I wanted my new nickname to be special, and anything given to a dog is not special. It’s low.

“You’re our first visitor in 259,200 seconds!” she said, clasping her hands together by her… cheek and smiling at me. “That means you get a special tour! I’m sure Cartwheel wouldn’t mind any!”

Within a matter of minutes, I was sitting at a desk in a large, dim atrium filled with more desks, and a random skeleton in the back. Hanging from the ceiling was a projector that flickered to life and displayed grainy footage of a video that was top tier boring. I would've loved to run away, but Apple Fritter watched me closely. Every move I made she met. I could barely scratch my ear without her making a move towards the exit. And since her smile never went away, I started getting little spiders crawling up my back. Her smile was no longer kind or pleasant. It was a rapist smile, and the last thing I wanted was to get raped by a robot.

After the opening credits, which seemed way longer than twenty minutes with the obnoxious music and looped footage of mobile buses and exciting office work, a stallion jumped off of a bus. He was a scrawny guy with a slick mane and a pressed suit, and he had the smile of a shyster.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, I am Cartwheel Track, founder and holder of this amazing company,” said the stallion in a slight hick accent. The background music accompanying him only got worse when he trotted past a group of ponies looking way too happy to be going on a bus. “At Macintosh Transit Corporation, we believe that staying connected to your loved ones and your work is important, and for that we strive to give you the best rides. Affordable. Flexible. Clean. That is what everypony deserves for a bus.”

The footage and sound fuzzed out and when it reappeared with a pop a moment later, he was standing on a bus.

“Here, at Macintosh Transit Corporation we strive for improving bus routes and safety,” said Cartwheel.

“Excuse me, sir. Please remain behind the white line at all times,” said a stallion with retarded smile, wearing a gray suit and hat sitting in the driver's seat.

Cartwheel looked at the camera and stepped back, shrugging his shoulders with whomp whomp music in the background.

This guy went on about this company and their plans for the Macintosh Hills for a good three hours. He talked about everything, ranging from schedules to tires, seats to the type of paint they used, and the “proud history” of their uniform and how they are contributing to the war effort by researching more fuel efficient engines. I felt myself nodding off, like my head wasn’t screwed on right. It just swayed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until I snapped myself awake. The boring video finally ended with Cartwheel standing in front of a building with MTC’s symbol on it, waving farewell with other ponies. He was the only one with a genuine smile, everypony else looked like they were smiling because the director told them to.

“Macintosh Transit Corporation: Keeping Equestria Connected”, appeared on the bottom of the screen as it faded out to an image of a bus driving through a golden age, utopian neighborhood that looked a lot like Sunshine Gardens. Then “Paid for by the Ministry of Transportation” appeared on the bottom along with a block of text I couldn’t read.

The footage conked out again, this time for good, and the whole room lit back up. I stared at the screen wondering what the heck I just watched for another few seconds before Apple Fritter rolled in front of me.

“Did you enjoy the video?” Fritter asked.

“It was… nice?” I said.

“Fantastic! Any questions, comments or concerns?”

I shook my head quickly, hoping that she would take the hint that I wanted to get out. She didn’t.

She clapped her hands and said: “That’s mighty swell! That means we can continue with the tour. Up next is how Macintosh Transit Corporation is revolutionizing the way seat cushions are stitched together for the greatest comfort and strength your little tushie can sit on!”

I shook my head harder. “No, that's all right. I actually got to go to... work. Yeah, I got to go to work. I got meetings to go to, ponies to schedule. So... yeah... Bye.”

I tried to walk away like nothing was wrong, but my steps were brisk and my heart raced quicker the closer I got to the door. But when I got to the door, the little green light above it turned red and the door clicked. I tried opening it, but it wouldn’t budge. I grunted and swore and my hooves screeched against the dirty tile as they tried to get a good hold while I pressed my shoulder and all my body weight against it. Then her shadow covered me and I froze and slowly turned around to see her creepy smile again.

“But the tour must continue.” Fritter said with too much glee in her voice. “Everypony must see how Macintosh Transit Corporation operates for the well-being of Equestrian civilization!”

I made a dash away from her, but she lunged towards me and grabbed my tail before I could get halfway across, and she started dragging me across the room.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” was all I could say as my hooves scraped against the ground, desperate to grab anything they could. I grabbed the chairs and tables, but they only fell over and hit me on the head, and when I latched on to a desk near the exit I was relieved that it was bolted in. Apple Fritter tugged on my tail and I pulled myself towards the table. I felt hairs getting yanked out and my skin tearing, but I refused to let go. She managed to yank me away from the desk after a hard tug and she sped down the hall with me in her mechanical arms.

"You sure are a restless feller,” said Apple Fritter with a chuckle as she carried me down the hall, hugging me like how a child would to subdue an unruly puppy. I squirmed and awkwardly banged my hooves on her metal hide.

“Let me go, you crazy robot! I don't want to sit through your stupid tour!” I shouted.

“After the cushions comes a seminar on how to properly sit on a bus. Isn’t that exciting?” said Apple Fritter.

“No!”

She accelerated her speed and soon the wind was rushing past my ears and she nearly tipped over as she rounded the corners. I continued banging and screaming for her to let me go, and right as we rounded another corner with a sign that had a seat painted on it, I slammed my hoof on her shoulder and she jerked violently and it sounded like rocks being thrown in a blender. She got all jittery and swayed side to side, bounced off of the walls and crashed into furniture while speaking thirty sentences at once. Then she hit the edge of a staircase and we both flew towards an observation window.

The window shattered into little shards and Apple Fritter's grip loosened as we fell. I was able to push myself off of the deranged machine and somehow launched myself towards a hanging model of a bus while Apple Fritter crashed to the floor below.

I barely made the jump. Half my body landed on the roof and the other smacked against the side of the model, breaking through its shell, cutting me slightly and hitting the metal skeleton inside. When my groin smacked against the bar inside I coughed and gagged as the painful nauseating feeling made me feel like I was going to puke, but I still managed to stay on. I tried to pull myself up, but froze when I heard grating and something snap. I looked up and saw one of the wires falling down with a rain of ceiling chunks in its wake.

The model started swinging around, scrapping against the wall and showering the decayed tile with its shell and pieces of the wall or shards of glass. I swore and tried to tighten my grip, but with the crazy swinging and flat exterior my hooves were quickly sliding off. More of the wires and pieces of the ceiling were yanked out and one of them fell right towards me. The wire sliced through the shell and popped the part I was on right off. I fell off screaming, with the chunk of the model in tow and I landed on a lobby couch. It snapped and I was covered in a cloud of dust and couch guts. I laid there, out of breath and a soreness paralyzing my whole body.

The last of the wires snapped loose, causing the model to splatter on the floor behind the couch in a twisted wreck of metal and broken shell. There was an explosive BANG from its impact and a generous amount of the lobby was covered in a cloud of dust and mold for a while before it was clear enough for me to see again.

I crawled to my hooves and stared at the twisted wreck, and then I laughed while sitting and spreading my hooves out, cheering: “YES! Yessssss! Thank you, Celestia! Oh, man... Oh... Wow! That was close. Phew!”

Then a pair of robotic hands grabbed me from behind and turned me around so I could see a really pissed off Apple Fritter. My heart would stop working from the sight of her murderous snarl and dark red screen, which was now cracked and making the photo fuzz and flicker in and out. Her grip tightened to where it seemed like she would crush my bones into tiny little splinters. I winced and wiggled desperately as she held me, and when she brought me closer, I could hear the gears straining and smell smoke coming from her.

“The tour must go on, Exile,” growled Apple Fritter.

Like hell it will! I tucked my hindlegs up and with a good, solid kick that us earth ponies are known for, my hind hooves cracked her screen and led me to being able to push myself away as she reeled back. I landed on my back with a grunt, but quickly got back to my hooves and knocked Apple Fritter to the ground with me on top of her.

“YOU! STUPID! ROBOT!” I screamed with each punch to its mug. The screen cracked with each punch, and on my fifth or sixth punch my hoof went through and jagged edges cut myself while the busted wires bit me with burning sparks. When I withdrew my hoof, it was dripping blood and had little specks of burnt fur and skin all over. But the robot was dead and twitching under me and that was all that mattered. I felt my pride surge for killing the insane tour guide robot, and to make myself feel even better I bucked the metal carcass.

The robot twitched again and gurgled something I didn’t understand nor care about. With me getting exiled, getting my ass kicked by a mare and having a chunk of my ear bitten off, I was getting really tired of getting dealt the crap cards. I made a mental note to find a Wasteland survival guru or something as I limped away, being sure to keep my injured hoof off of the ground.

And that was when I heard it. Groaning and squeaking and gears grinding against each other with sickly scratches while jumbled words echoed in the lobby. I froze and slowly turned around, eyes wide like dinner plates at the sight of Apple Fritter standing up, sparking and twitching. Little sparks hopped out of the hole in the screen and it swayed back and forth as its arms swung limply, like a drunk trying to stand, and when it got itself stabilized it turned to me.

It stood in its spot with small spasms rocking its body, and I took another step back, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. Then she screamed a demonic, mechanized and all around horrible screech and lunged at me with her hands extended and jacked up wheel leaving a trail of sparks.

“HOLY FUCK!” I screamed.

I reached for the nearest thing I could, which was a piece of jagged metal, and I stabbed it right smack in the middle of that blocky body of hers. My crude weapon pierced all those fancy computer parts easily, and Apple Fritter started flailing her arms wildly as she recoiled with sprays of electric fire and sparks shooting out in every which direction they could. She started bleeding melted plastics and some strange green goo, and she shrieked in a way I never thought a robot could when she grasped the bar and tried pulling it out.

She tugged and tugged and tugged, but each tug only made her agonizing scream louder and the display of sparks and fire all the brighter. I backed up until I was by the wall and watched in sick fascination as she fought to get the bar out, but when it looked like it was hopeless, she spread her arms out and screamed. Then an explosion blew her body apart, sending her innards and my weapon flying as she crashed to the ground, leaving cracks on the tile.

I ducked when the metal bar got impaled good and tight on the wall just above my head. I was panting and sweating, and I gulped when I took a moment to look at the bar. Then I looked back at the metal corpse and saw that it was nearly hollowed out with a ring of burnt, cracked tile, hardened goo and melted plastic around her. But she was still twitching and I honestly thought about stomping on her until she stopped.

When Fritter finally died, she dimmed down, destroyed gears slowly whirring and clicking to a stop, with her last words being a humming: “You killed me, Bruce.”

I blinked, wondering what the heck she was talking about now, but seeing as how she was hollowed out and burnt to a crisp, I just limped away, knowing I wasn’t going to be getting anything. Before leaving, I tried to get the metal bar out of the wall, but it wasn’t going anywhere and all I really accomplished was making my injured hoof sorer. So I bid my farewells to the bar that saved me and hobbled away to gather my supplies and fix myself up. It was then that I remembered that I had a pistol on me. Talk about a serious kick to your pride.

We'll just fast forward a bit since nothing else really happened after that incident. After I regathered my supplies and fixed myself up, I took the map and an unopened package of markers I found in the break room and put them in my saddle bag. I marked the Hub's location before I left to find Transit, which took me all day even with the help of signs that I was sure were moved by some jokers, and when I found it, it wasn't a pleasant welcome.

“And what business do you have here?” demanded the guard; a butch unicorn mare with a line of ear rings, a mohawk and thick barding made of scrap metal.

She jabbed her weapon at my nose, and I was able to step back just barely out of her range, but that was still enough to make my aching muscles scream at me for being too rough. I really needed a nap, and I really needed Ms. Butch-Bitch to put her weapon away, I could still smell the powder lingering from the damn thing when she shot at me for coming to close without permission. Not pleasant.

“Lady, I'm just looking for a place to stay.” I said, wincing and awkwardly rubbing my side with my hind leg afterwords since my ribs apparently didn't like me talking, either.

“You wanna use that tone on me again, dick fucker!” she said with a snarl. I didn't even realize I was using a bad tone, but I was in no mood for this shit, so I just glared at her,

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“No!”

I screamed and stomped my hoof on the ground. I swear, anypony could've heard that scream from a mile away. Then I was sort-of saved.

“Shelly, knock it off,” said another unicorn mare sternly; she was white and had seas of brown, and a darker brown mane. Her mane was also braided with feathers tucked in it, and she wore a vest underneath a large jacket with a rifle slid into a scabbard on her side. She dismissed Shelly and approached me, saying: “So, what is your purpose here?”

I wanted to scream. “Are you kidding me! I'm just looking for a place to stay, that's it! Is that too damn hard to ask for!”

Shelly disappeared in a doorway, only to reappear a minute later at the top of a generic tower overlooking the area. She dismissed the pony up there before she put a sniper rifle on a railing and sat down with some binoculars hovering in front of her eyes. The mare that saved me from death waved her hoof in front of my face, snapping my attention back to her.

“So, you're just looking for a place to stay, eh?” she said.

“Yes! Oh my Sun, you are finally getting it!”

“Hm, I don't know if I like you. You're kind of an ass.”

I chuckled at near psycho pitches and I felt my eye twitch. The day started out as shit and looked like it was going to end in shit. No, shit was better than what had happened to me in just a few short days. Were these people kicked out of their homes for a rigged system? Were these people nearly killed in a gladiator death match with a skinny cannibal? Were these people conned by a vending machine and held hostage by a tour guide robot? No. No. No. And no. All nos!

And now I couldn't get a damn bed! Assholes.

I swallowed what little spit I had left and pushed back my greasy mane and said: “Look, I just want a place to stay. That is all. Can I- Can I pretty please with a big fucking apple on top have a bed for one damn night!”

I growled in pain and aggravation when my side stung again, and when I shifted to clutch my side I felt my legs buckle slightly. I was so worn out and battered I couldn't even properly comfort myself.

Ms. Oblivious stroked her chin. “Permanent or temporary? Because if it's permanent then we don't have the space.”

“Temporary!” I screamed. “Goddess-damn, I just need a place to stay for the night!”

The mare studied me for a few seconds, but I was too pissed off to feel uncomfortable. My scowl drooped to a frown though when she started humming, and I released a heavy, pain filled breath through the nose as soon as her hoof started stroking her chin. When she was done with her in depth scrutinizing, she beamed and straightened herself out.

“Okay, you can stay for the night,” she said with a cheerful smile, then her smile went to a stern frown, and she said: “But before I let you in, I'm going to need your name.”

“Exile.” I said bluntly.

She looked at me suspiciously and I stared back at her, silently telling her to just go with it. Thankfully she accepted it, but warned me that if I used any name other than Exile while inside she would find out and personally kick me out. Literally. She explained how she would drag me to the gate and then buck me in my rump so that way I would land on my face in the broken concrete outside.

Then she extended her hoof with a smile and said: “I'm Hazel Nut. Sheriff, Mayor and tax collector of this town. Any problems you come straight to me and I'll fix it up, no problem.” I shook her hoof and she craned her head towards Shelly, and yelled: “Open the gate, Shelly!”

My eyes lifted up to the triangle of scrap metal as a loud whine of a rusted turbine engine echoed out. It took a few seconds, but the slabs of metal covering the entrance screeched against the ground and each other as they were pulled apart to reveal a town inside. I limped inside in with Hazel, and my jaw dropped from the scope of the place.

It was surrounded on all sides by buses with metal plates bolted over the windows and they were all attached by contorted metal bars. On top of each bus was a grated walkway with jagged railings angled outwards and barbwire connecting the posts. The bus wall was being patrolled by ponies armed with rifles with either an SMG or a shotgun as their secondary.

The town itself, though, was a miracle in Hell. Sure it was rundown, but I also saw prosperity. The shacks of homes were made of sheets of metal and storage containers, but they were painted and had fences around them with little mailboxes. Overlooking the bundle of homes was a parking garage with more milling about inside, and next to the parking garage was a concrete building surrounded by a wall of cars that were somehow stacked on top of each other. The building had “ADMINISTRATION” in faded letters over a fortified entrance, and on the roof was a monument of a bus looking like it was zooming off into space. There was only one way in to the Administration Building, and that way was guarded by scared green stallion chewing on a stick and sitting behind sandbags with a turret resting on them. He was also wearing old combat armor and reading a book.

Me and Hazel parted ways, but not before asking her where I could go check out a room for rest. She told me of a place called “Misty Froth's Relaxation Hole”.

“A place where you can eat, drink, and be merry!” said Hazel with a smile before trotting towards the Administrative Building. The name of the place didn't sound too pleasant to me, and she didn't give me directions where to go, so I was left standing awkwardly at her as she left.

When Hazel was out of sight I sighed and walked aimlessly through the neighborhood. It was like they were trying to relive Equestrian lifestyle before the bombs fell. Some were even sitting on their very own crude porches, on rocking chairs and conversing among themselves while foals played in their “yard”. It was strange, but I just let it be.

I wandered around for a good twenty minutes before I finally found that Relaxation Hole that Hazel mentioned. It hurt my shoulder just to push the door open, and when I stepped inside, my winces and labored steps were drowned by bustling activity. Ponies of all shapes and sizes crowded around tables and at the bar, talking and roaring with laughter about some joke. I could barely hear myself think or the upbeat music playing over the chatter. In the far corner, some slick looking stallion was talking about his date with somepony named “Caramel Cream”. It was strictly perverted and every now and then one of the listeners would say “No way!” or “Awesome.”. They were an envious bunch, through and through.

Through all patrons, I was able to get a good idea of the place, though. The walls were still painted and the wood looked good for something that had minimal care for two hundred years. The furniture also looked purely recycled. Chairs of varying shapes and sizes surrounded tables also in different shapes and sizes, and some even looked like signs cut into whatever shape worked at the moment.

When I squeezed my way to the counter, I tapped on it with my bandaged hoof to get the bartender's attention, rubbing it soon after from the sharp, tingly sensation I got from provoking the injury.

I was surprised she actually heard me since it was so loud inside, but she stopped what she was doing and approached me with half lidded eyes and sultry smile. She was an earth pony mare with a light blue coat and a straight, dark blue mane and tail. Her cutie mark was a mug, of all things. She leaned over with one hoof on the counter and the other pressed into her side. It looked uncomfortable, but she obviously didn't think it was. I was starting to think everypony in Transit was slightly nutty.

“Why hello, there, stranger, what can I do fer ya?” she asked warmly.

“I just want a room.” I said.

She arched a brow and got a wolfish smile. “Would you like room service with that, Mr. Grouch?”

I shook my head. “No, I just want a night alone. I'm outta this hole tomorrow, anyway.”

She inspected her hoof with a cool smile. “Well, if yer only here for a day why not get some service? If there is one thing this town is known for, it's our room service. It ain't cheap, but worth it if you got the caps, and I can guarantee you that you'd have a night yer never gonna forget if ya get the deluxe package.”

“Caps?”

“Yeah. Caps. The currency of the... oh... Ohhhhh~”

“Oh?”

“Yer one of them Sixty Seveners, ain'tcha?”

I nodded, and she nodded, too.

“Thought so. We get a few every year. This town was actually founded by exiles for exiles long ago. We don't get much now,, but we recently got one in. Poor girl was torn up bad.”

My ears perked and I planted my hoofs firmly on the counter. “Ebony is here?”

“If that's the name of a black earth pony mare, then yeah. You can thank Wilhelm for bringing her here.”

And just like that, my ears fell and my blood went cold. “Wilhelm?”

“Yep. He's right there, if ya wanna thank him.”

The bartender pointed behind me and I looked over my shoulder and noticed a familiar group in the corner. The same people that laid waste to Yanker's town were sitting in the said corner. The largest was talking to a mare that was passing him by. She gave him a teasing look and playfully flick of her tail to his chin before trotting off. He grinned and looked at the leader of the group, but his grin disappeared when the leader slapped him on the back of his head. The female was hunched down, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else other than the Hole, and when the leader looked at me, I gulped and whirled back to the counter, both hooves drumming nervously on it with beads of sweat rolling down my face.

“Ya doing all right?” asked the bartender.

“He's looking at me.” I said.

“Didja try to kill him at any point in time or try to nibble his ear?”

I furrowed my brows. “No.”

“Then you'll be fine.” She put a mug of beer in front of me and winked. “On the house. If ya need anything, just come find me. My name's Misty Froth and I'll get ya situated.”

I nodded and she left to tend to another customer. I took a sip of the drink, too scared to move, now. Between what I saw the group do and Wilhelm's unwavering gaze, I was too afraid to drink. I nursed the beer with tiny little sips, and the glass shook violently in my trembling hooves. I mean, they did save Ebony, but I had a feeling that the group wanted to kill me, and Wilhelm's constant staring wasn't helping. Then came a loud BAM!

It came from a massive hoof slamming down next to mine, making me yelp and jump in my spot, spilling my drink in the process and leaving my heart close to exploding. Then the big guy's face appeared next to me, nearly touching my cheek with his muzzle.

“Hallo, Fremder! Long time no see, yeah?” he said excitedly in an accent similar to Wilhelm's, though considerably more jolly.

I leaned away from him, his breath and body reeked of alcohol and I wasn't sure if he was genuinely excited or if the alcohol was messing with his mind. I was leaning more towards choice two.

“Yeah,” I said, chuckling nervously, “it's been a while, horned-pony thing.”

I bit my tongue and winced, partially because I literally bit my tongue and partially because I was afraid he'd beat me to a pulp because his smile disappeared in flash. He got a sneer and he grabbed my shoulders with his hooves and held me in place.

“That was the funniest thing I have heard in a long time,” he said in a deathly serious tone, leaving me more confused than worried now. Then he laughed and released me just so he could stand proudly with his chest puffed out. “But I am no mere pony,Fremder, for I am a Bewohner von Steinböckenia.”

“A what?” I asked with a blink.

He blinked, then realized that I did not speak his language, so he chuckled and put his hoof over my shoulder and said with an understanding smile: “I’m an ibex.” Then he extended his hoof. “Where are my manners? I'm Stocker von Haus in der Prärie. What's your name?”

I shook his hoof. “Exile.”

“Your parents named you ‘Exile’?”

“No, but I don’t think my real name is much use anymore.”

“Bah! Names are important and will always have a use. Rejecting your name is like rejecting your soul. So, spill the beans, Exile. What's your soul name?”

“...Meris.”

There was no way I was letting anypony find out what my full name was, and I noticed Wilhelm's eyes were zeroed in on me like crosshairs of a sniper rifle, and his jaw was tight, like tooth breaking tight. I thought I saw his eye twitch, too, so I turned back to Stocker.

“I should move. Maybe to the hospital. Wherever it is.” I said.

At first Stocker was confused, but then he looked at Wilhelm and realized why I wanted to find another place to relax.

“He’s probably wondering why you followed us. But don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless,” said Stocker.

I had a very hard time believing that, but before I could make a move, he put his hoof over my shoulder and turned me towards the group table.

“Why don’t you say hello to the group?” said Stocker.

“Uh, no, that is probably a horrible idea.” I said nervously as I tried to slide away from him, but he wrapped his hoof around my neck and tightened his buddy hug, practically strangling me in the process.

“Nonsense!” he said. “They will be more than happy to see you! Just don't make any sudden movements around Will; he’s a bit edgy at the moment.”

I really didn’t want to meet the group now, but I wasn’t strong enough to resist the cheerful brute. He brought me to the table where his chumps were drinking warm alcohol and nibbling on what I could only guess was bark. When we came up, Stocker was beaming and I was once again trying to slip away.

“Will, Exile. Exile, Will. Aria, Exile. Exile, Aria,” said Stocker in a single breath, his hoof snapping towards the subjects as quickly as his words.

Wilhelm stopped eating his bark and stared at me intently for a moment before he turned to Stocker and spoke to him in the foreign tongue. Stocker replied in the same language, and while they had their conversation, with Wilhelm sounding aggravated and Stocker sounding cheerful, the yellow one, Aria, would not stop staring at me. Seriously, I doubted she even blinked during the length of the conversation. Between the staring of Wilhelm and Arai, I was starting to think staring was a cultural thing, too.

Stocker put his massive hoof on my back and pushed me into an open seat while taking the one between me and Wilhelm. I looked down at the table, noting how it used to be a sign that had a sofa and quill pen on it, and when I looked up Aria was still staring at me. I inched away a bit and she made that same sheepish smile she gave me before Yanker was killed. But not wanting to be rude, I politely smiled back, which went away in a blink when Wilhelm made a low growl.

“Don’t be like that, Father,” chuckled Stocker as he playfully slapped Wilhelm’s back. “Aufzuhellen! We got that traitor so now we can celebrate!” He raised his mug to the crowd and shouted: “To Will!”

The bar patrons shouted “To Will!” back, their mugs pointed towards the ibex, and he respectfully raised his mug. Everypony took a huge gulp of their drinks and slammed their bottles, mugs or whatever they were drinking from to their bars and tables in unison, making a loud, glassy bang. They resumed their conversations shortly after.

“Where’s Ebony?” I asked some seconds later.

Wilhlem stared at me suspiciously and Stocker took a gulp of his drink before he answered.

“That little mare is resting in the clinic under the doctor’s orders, and Father placed some guards outside. But she’s fine. Nothing a little nap can’t handle,” said Stocker. He smiled nervously when Wilhelm and Aria gave him their own looks of annoyance and shock, and he added: “Fairly speaking.”

Then he cleared his throat and put his hoof around Aria and lightly nudged her closer to me. Wilhelm stared at Stocker with narrowed eyes while mine and Aria's were wide with shock. I tried to move away, but for some reason I couldn't move, so all I really did was lean back, looking like an idiot while Aria was pushed closer to me with next to no resistance on her part.

“She's single, by the way,” said Stocker with a mischievous smile.

“Well I'm not.” I retorted in panic, but I didn’t think he heard me since he went on to have a few slurry words with Misty Froth. I looked at Stocker and tried to get him to come over, but he was too busy flirting and when I turned around Wilhelm was looking like a he was suffering from killing withdrawal. I smiled nervously and inched away from Aria again and told him: “I promise you, I'm not that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy?” he asked dangerously.

My smile disappeared and I said: “You know, that kind of guy.”

“You better not be.” Then he got up and walked next to me and whispered in my ear. “I'll be watching you, Stalker.”

“Exile.” I corrected.

That got me a sharp slap to the back of the head that nearly slammed my head against the table. I winced quietly as I rubbed the back of my head and watched Wilhelm walk away, stopping by Stocker to tell him something before leaving for the upper level. Once their short conversation passed, both ibexes looked at me before Stocker went back to Misty Froth and Wilhelm disappeared. I had a feeling he was going to a secret nest to watch me through a scope.

I cleared my throat and looked at Aria, her face was glued to the floor and trying not to look at me this time. Earlier she wouldn't stop staring like Wilhelm, and now she can't look at me. I didn't get it. An awkward silence came as we sat there, listening to the conversations unfold for a few minutes before I decided to break the mold.

“So,” I began casually, “how are you single?”

She quietly said: “Dead. Jerks. Or actually female.”

“Oh,” was all I really could say. Her gender confused part reminded me of Glitter Glue, and I started to wonder how Artisan and Rose Petal were faring. I was hoping that Artisan wasn't getting more hot pie to the face and that Rose Petal was not being a toy for Curly. However, I got a twisting feeling in my gut as I thought that the worst was happening, and knowing the Overmare, nothing would be done about it if shit was hitting the fan back there.

“Is Ebony your other?” Aria asked suddenly, knocking me back to the real world. I looked at Aria again, giving her a blank look.

“My other?” I asked.

“Your marefriend. You seem worried about her.”

“Oh. No. She's an exile like me. When we got exiled I left the group she and I were with because I was an idiot, and now she is hospitalized and I have no idea where anypony else is.”

Aria nodded, her eyes falling to the floor. “She said there was more exiles, but they were either killed or taken. You got lucky. Or maybe a divine hoof led you to leaving.”

I didn't believe that, and I looked at the table, longing for Rose Petal and my life back in the Stable. A good life without all this... shit.

Anyway, after taking a moment to honor the memory of my good life I looked at Aria. She actually reminded me of Honey Sap. They had the same colors, both were shy and took good care of themselves. Aria was clean for a wastelander; her coat was still dirty but you could tell that she tried washing it and her mane actually looked combed. I only realized that I had been staring a bit too long when she inched away.

“Sorry, you just remind me of somepony I used to know.” I said solemnly.

“Your marefriend?” she asked.

I shook my head and said: “No, I barely knew her, but she was quiet and kinda looked like you, not to be creepy or anything.”

I think I scared her anyway, since she backed further away from me with eyes wide and ears drooped. I held out my hoof defensively and quickly apologized. Partially because I felt bad for scaring her like that and partially for the fear that Wilhelm could be watching and waiting to blow my brains out or slice my neck or kill me in some horrible fashion.

“Who was she?” asked Aria.

“Who?”

I kicked myself instantly after. I knew who she was talking about, it was just that my mouth worked quicker than my brain at that moment.

“The one I remind you of,” she said.

“Oh, her name was 'Honey Sap'.”

“Did you like her?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat; I hardly paid any attention to Honey Sap. When I saw her, though, she was usually with Rose Petal on the Meet and Greet Days and I watched Rose Petal in a completely non-creepy stalker way. But I would be lying if I said I didn't see any appeal in Honey Sap since she was a good looking mare with a nice personality. I still didn't like Aria's prodding, though, so I reiterated that I barely knew her. She seemed content with that and went back to looking at whatever it was she was looking at earlier.

“Look, you seem nice and all, but I'm taken,” I said, trying not to sound rude. “I'm sure you'll find another ibex who will suit you just fine.” I smiled and pointed at Stocker with my bandaged hoof. “Actually, Stocker looks good for you.”

“He's my brother,” said Aria.

My hoof stayed up with my smile, but inside I was screaming. I couldn't believe that I had suggested something as stupid as incest! Though in my defense I had no idea they were brother and sister.

“Okay then, that was awkward.” I said as my hoof dropped, my smile was also gone and replaced with an embarrassed blush.

Aria giggled, and it was a pleasant sound. There was no way she and Honey Sap were not related. They had to be in some twisted way since her giggle was soft like Honey's.

“It's okay,” said Aria. “Everyone makes that same mistake.” Then her face fell and she looked down again, biting her lip slightly. “She must be great if you are willing to stay with her, even when you have been exiled.”

I nodded and said: “Yeah, she is great.”

And it was right after I said those words that Stocker slipped next to me and slammed a mug into my hooves and another in Aria's.

“Cheers to great mates!” he said obnoxiously his own mug raised hooves. “Drink in her honor, neuen Freund!”

I was hesitant, but eventually figured what the hell? I’m not drinking to pick up a chick. I’m drinking in honor of my marefriend who I will never see again. So our mugs clinked and all three of us chugged.

It was mostly a blur, but I do remember that the drink I had was a lot better than what I had earlier. It was sweet, tangy and actually made me feel like I was floating. I had four more of them. Or five. Or possibly six. Hell, I can't remember. All I really remember is that within a matter of minutes I was alive!

Sure the floor felt like it was moving and my body felt like it was made of wet noodles, but I was having the time of my life! I was surrounded by a group of patrons that laughed and talked with me like I was one of them, just like when I was at those Sixty Seven parties.

We laughed at everypony and everything, and by Celestia it was great! I was even taught a cool little song that they sung when building stuff.

Raise this barn. Raise this barn. One, two, three, four. Together we can raise this barn. One, two, three four. Upupup. Lower the beams. Hammer those joints. Work in teams- and something else after that. Go to Transit and they'll teach you the song.

After singing some folk songs and doing some folk dancing around the place, including a table dance that inadvertently led to me falling on my face, we all sat around again to chill out. Some decided to go home while others went to their own corners. Most stayed, though, to hear about Stable Sixty Seven, which was brought up because Misty Froth pointed out I was a Sixty Sevener. That got everypony talking.

In my drunken state of mind, I let it all out with more emotion that a mare drowning in estrogen. I might've stretched the truth a bit, I mean you couldn't teleport from one place to another with a PipBuck (How that rumor started, I have no idea.) but it was handy having a map on your foreleg or trackers or the dozens of other cool features on it. I talked about my humble beginnings as a clock mechanic and how an embarrassing Meet and Greet Day led to me getting the mare of my dreams and running scheduling in the Stable. It was the corniest love story they have ever heard. Or so Stocker said.

Long story short, I explained how I got Exiled from my Stable. I told them about the Scorecards and how everypony has a chance to be expelled, regardless of their position. I told them about Curly Mane and her mysterious hate for me, which I have to believe was centered around Rose Petal, and I told them how she got me exiled. That earned a lot of boos and awes. The sympathy felt nice.

When the crowd settled down, I was a wreck. My eyes were wet, tears soaked my face and I had trouble breathing. Misty Froth pat my shoulder and somepony said something about Curl reminding them of their wife.

“I think the worst part of it all is that I won't be able to hold Rose Petal again.” I said, adding a sniffle in there because why not? I was already trashed and my emotions were getting the best of me. The crowd laughed and somepony threw a piece of food at my face, playfully mind you, and so I did a fake glare and pretended to wave them off, yelling: “Ah shaddup, all ya'll.”

That got everypony laughing, me included. It felt nice to let it out and joke a bit, though a part of me did want to throw something back at the guy who threw food at me. Aria smiled a bit, too, but it looked like she was trying to slide into the floor. She really reminded me of Honey Sap in every way. It was weird, but what was weirder was that I had this desire to hug her. She just seemed really adorable!

Then somepony asked: “What would you do if you saw Rose Petal right now?”

“Oh that's easy,” I slurred with a wave of my hoof, “I would do this!”

I grabbed Aria by her waist yanked her close to me. She squeaked but that was silenced when I put one right on her lips. I felt her burning up and thought I heard her whimper and she became tense, like a stone under fur, but with all the cheering and thumping let's just say that in my drunken state I felt like a king. And I guess I was on her longer than I thought because next thing I knew, I was getting pulled off, saw Wilhelm's hoof, stars and then the table. And that was the last I remember of that night

The next morning I woke up with my head throbbing, jaw sore, and my eyes and ears hurting with the stench of alcohol and vomiton me.

The room I found myself in wasn’t too bad. I mean the floors and mattress were stained with nearly three hundred years of crap, and the room was bare of pretty much everything, except for a bed, a mirror and a locker, but other than that, it wasn’t bad. It kinda reminded me of home. Only dirty.

I looked in a mirror hanging on the wall and found that I had a fresh bruise on my jaw. I touched it and it felt like I had stabbed myself. My hoof recoiled from the sudden unpleasant feeling, and I checked my pocket watch and saw that it was noon. I sighed again, and slapped my watch shut and I looked inside the footlocker and found my stuff neatly stacked. Shrugging, I put it all back on with some difficulty because I was still sore, and I opened up the door only to be greeted by a close up of Wilhelm’s face.

I screamed and jumped back. It was like his very presence made my jaw hurt even more! I tried rubbing it, but the slightest touch only made it worse, and me whimpering in front of that killing machine didn't make my situation any better. When he stepped into the room I honestly thought he was going to kill me. I tried to find a way out, but with the only exit blocked by him, and with my stellar record of getting my ass handed to me, it was pretty much a done deal no matter how things played out.

When he had me cornered he said: “Last night I let you off easy since you were drunk, but if you ever kiss Aria again, I will do more than punch you.”

He stared at me and I stared back at him, shocked at what I was hearing. A part of me wanted to call him a liar since I still thought of myself as a swell guy who would never kiss a girl in a drunken state of lust. I wanted to tell him that I was forever faithful to Rose Petal and would never ever force myself on her or any other lady. But as much as I didn’t want to believe it, my throbbing jaw told me he was telling the truth. It just doesn't get bruised for no reason. So now I had swollen jaw to add to my list of bruised bones, cuts, more bruises and psychological trauma. Life was great!

“We need to talk somewhere private,” said Wilhelm.

“About what?” I asked.

“You will know soon enough.”

It sounded strange and kinda disturbing, therefore I didn’t move. He turned and walked towards the door and was about to leave when he turned around and told me to hurry up.

I gulped.

He glared.

I followed.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Hard Training (1)-- +1 to Agility.

Author's Notes:

Serious Edits.