As I mentioned, this wasn’t my first time going to Trotson. Five years ago the GPE had attempted to infiltrate it and find out how Shadow Corp controlled the region’s weather. I was a Sergeant Major back then, and one of a hoof full of ponies that made it out. We had learned quickly that Shadow Corp didn’t play around, and when my squad leader died I did everything I could to get everypony else out. I was the highest ranked pony there, after them.

I… I didn’t do that great. Six total ponies made it out, and the only one of my current squad that was present was Lucky Shot. I fucked up bad. I tried to send them straight through the Shadow Corp’s pony-made sandstorm and got so many pegasi killed. I refuse to remember what happened there and how they toyed with me. Even if the screams don’t leave I’ll make damn sure the images do.

The worst part is that, despite it being a failure, the upper brass congratulated me for it all. According to them the fact I had managed to get anypony out of there with how bad things went downhill was something to be commended. I got a medal for getting most everypony killed, and the only reason I didn’t tell them to shove it up their ass was because I wasn’t fully there. My body was present, but my mind was distant. I was in pain, even if how it hurt wasn’t the normal type of pain.

The only pony I told that all too was Anchor…

----------------------------------------

It takes a lot to get me to cry. It was hard back then and near impossible now. That day was when it became the latter. The brain sees everything that possibly can go wrong become reality and it stops caring. The world becomes duller, distant, less… there, then it had ever been in your life. Every other sound becomes muffled to the screams of the recently deceased.

Oh goddesses the screams. They followed me through the entire medal ceremony, and didn’t cease when I returned home. I remember staring at myself in the mirror for an absurdly long time. The sound of my two foals, Rainy Day and Clear Skies, didn’t seem to reach my ears. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even acknowledge them, considering my state at the time.

The screams themselves weren’t coherent but I could feel their intent. Tartarus, I still feel their intent. The difference was back then it was all consuming, like being pulled under by the wasteland’s ocean waves. I didn’t have anything to pull myself out and I was waiting for the moment my head struck a metaphorical rock. I definitely would have too, if it wasn’t for Anchor.

A lot of what happened before he snapped me out of it was a blur. The first vivid memory I had since the sandstorm was him standing next to me. We were in our bathroom, the sound of our foals playing suddenly much more clear to my ears. Anchor had this concerned look on his face, and that look became a sort of… grounding point I’ll call it. A point where I always went to pull myself out of that horrid space whenever I fell into it.

“Do… Do you want to talk about it?” Anchor asked me, his calming tone a piercing javelin to the key containing me.

I didn’t respond in words. I remember just looking around at everything, from the cloud walls to the cloud floors, the mirror and shower. For the first time in hours I recognized where I was. It was home, a safe place where nopony could hurt me. A place where my mental and physical anchor was. An anchor not meant for ships, but for healing those like me.

“You’ve been in here for an hour, just staring at yourself,” Anchor explained. He placed a hoof on my shoulder as my eyes absently trailed from his face to his hoof. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been off since you came back from that mission. These past few days you’ve been… somewhere else.”

“A few days? You mean I didn’t just get back?” I had asked.

The question frightened him a bit, I could tell. Anchor was always more open emotionally than I was. I’m not entirely sure how a pony could just forget whole days but it had happened. I knew because he nodded. My jaw hung open, eyes lost on something that didn’t exist. We sat there in silence for an unknown period of time before I spoke again.

“How many days… has it been?”

“You and the survivors came back four days ago. You got a medal for your actions today,” He told me. He spoke softly, voice dripping in melancholy. All I could do in response to learning about the medal was blink. “They consider you a hero for getting your fellow soldiers out of that situation. I… think you were happy about it.”

“I got a medal for it? I got them all killed and I got a medal?” I questioned. Anchor didn’t respond, and the question wasn’t meant for anyone. I took a step away from him. “Why? I saved nopony. So… so many are dead now. They knew we would flee from there and…”

Anchor suddenly hugged me. I don’t know why he did, cause I didn’t deserve one, but he wrapped me up. I’m not sure why but that was all I needed for tears to fall from my eyes. Though I didn’t hug back, I did rest my head on his shoulder. His hug was the only hug that ever managed to get my emotions to truly blossom. It was his special little power that I never truly understood.

I called it ‘the touch’. The name came from a power one of the ministers from the war apparently had.

We stayed there together for a long time. I wasn’t sure if he wasn’t willing to let go of me or if I was afraid to let go of him. I stained my face and his body with the water my eyes refused to hold down. For a day that I came to hate, that cry was something that I hold close to my heart. Under his heart and our foals, allowing me to weep that day was one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me. He was the best stallion a mare could ask him…

… and I abandoned him.

----------------------------------------

My eyes refocused on the world around me, and I looked up. Looking back on that would have put any other mare into a state of despair. They would have cried. I know one of the soldiers that had gone on that mission succumbed to the screams. The rock under the waves meant for me took out them instead. That should have gotten a reaction out of me.

Instead it all stayed inside, there but unable to be called upon willingly. It had been like that for five years, and I was about to enter the very place that had made me like this in the first place. A small part of me was scared of that but it was held by my throat by the numbness that held the rest of my emotions. With its silence I could look at the coming wall of sand without worry. The sandstorm that separated Trotson from the world around it.

There were two ways into the city, at least for the sane pony. The first way was over the sandstorm, which was how I had done it five years ago. The sandstorm reached as high as the cloud curtain created by the S.P.P. Towers. Theoretically all pegasi, griffons, or any other sapient creatures had to do was fly as high as the lowest cloud. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, and that was what the Enclave had been led to believe.

Going over had one major problem, however: Shadow Corp hated it. Trotson was like a board game to them, with its residents as its piece. Now imagine if some other pony started trying to use pieces from a different board game out of nowhere. They saw going over the sandstorm the same exact way, and that was how the GPE had managed to piss them off. We played by our rules, not theirs, and we paid for it with blood.

The second way in, not including the suicidal act of heading through the storm itself, was train. There was a tunnel in the sandstorm formed specifically so the railroad wouldn’t be covered. Shadow Corp was also immediately alerted by means I don’t know. They had time to add you into their board game, making you as much a piece as everypony else. Angel Hair had taken this method, and I was doing the smart thing in following her.

That would actually explain why the griffon, Gold I think he called himself, had called me smart.

I watched from my cabin as the storm got closer, closer, and then surrounded us. The entire outside world gained an orange tint to it, and visibility dimmed greatly. I felt the memories of that day five years ago try to resurface, so I looked away. It wouldn’t be long till I could see the city itself, and the last thing I needed was to end up in an awful reminiscence at the wrong time. All that really had to distract me was the rhythm of the train and my rifle.

I needed to make sure it was clean. It was likely to get a lot of sand in it once we reached the station.

----------------------------------------

Trotson station

Day 1

If a pony found anything about Trotson from before the wartime, they would know the city had once been given a nickname. The Desert Jewel, if I remember correctly. It had started as a mining hub due to the wealth of minerals located over it. It was also home to easily the largest quarry in all of Equestria, the city providing the marble for many old official government buildings. When the war started it became a production hub, and much like Fillydelphia it got hit on the Last Day because of it.

That was the most I knew about it, but perhaps some time in the city was going to shed some light about other sides of it. If I was gonna return to the place that gave me PTSD I might as well find some way to enjoy it.

Granted the city seemed like it was in a far worse state than I was. Building looked ready to crumble or had huge chunks of them missing. That was kind of the norm for the wasteland. What wasn’t the norm was that literally everything was covered in sand. It didn’t drown the city but as soon as one exited the storm surrounding it they saw just how much the little specs covered the streets, buildings, skeletons, and anything else around. I was glad I had taken the time to clean my rifle; it was gonna hate this place.

Thankfully the station was closed off… or had once been. From my place outside my cabin I looked at the building I was about to step out into. Some of the roof was still there but holes were showing. I couldn’t tell if they were father time’s fault or due to the balefire bomb that was dropped here. Those holes allowed for sand to find its way into the station proper. A station that, while still used, had nopony manning it.

When I say no pony, I mean no pony.

As the train came to a stop, I noticed there wasn’t a single grounder there to greet us. Back home a pegasus get off a ship, military or civilian, and there were always other ponies around. Trotson station, however, was just… empty. Nothing but sand, stone, and brick. A far cry from the comfort at arriving at whatever pegasus city one was heading to. The train was likely several times safer.

That wouldn’t do me or the GPE any good though, so as soon as the doors opened I stepped off. The immediate crunch of sand under my hooves drew my attention downwards. I couldn’t see what the floor was actually made of here, so I wipe some away to get a look. The floor was marble, most likely from Trotson Quarry. I lost interest in it as I looked to the only other pony that had gotten off the train with me.

Though perhaps saying pony was incorrect, seeing as how the individual in question was Gold. We looked at each other for a bit, and then he started to slowly plod his way into the station. I looked up at the holes in the ceiling, which were plentiful but too small to fly out from. The sound of someone clearing their throat brought my attention back to Gold.

“Head out together. Don’t always have company. Would be nice,” He said, the echo of the station making his voice sound even more ghostly then it already had. “First time here, right?”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. I looked at his wings, then shrugged. “Not a grounder, so sure. I won’t have to worry about leaving you behind.”

He didn’t say anything about my words, which was good. I made my way to his side, not taking my eyes off him. He still had the style of a raider about him, so I had to be cautious. Last thing any pony needed was a gunshot to the skull when not looking. That wouldn’t help the GPE.

The sound of the train behind us drowned out any hooves as we moved away from the platform. That meant I was stuck within the city now. I swerved my eyes between everything around me, from Gold to a faded station map and the little filly and colts room we passed. All of it led to stairs heading up, far more light seeming to be present there then it was down on the platform. That meant windows, which would give me a good view of the city.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“You know if Shadow Corp clears the station? Wanna know if I should expect hostiles,” I inquired.

Perhaps that question was putting a bit too much trust in this griffon, but a soldier needs info on the enemy they are facing. Specifically, how many there were and how to best handle them. I was far more used to fighting ponies than feral ghouls, hellhounds, or whatever other creatures dared to pop out of this horrid place. The info would be necessary for survival, and one of the biggest things Ironsight couldn’t give me. I doubt he had been down here anywhere near as much as I.

“They don’t. You can’t kill, not worth having around. That is their view,” He said as we started climbing the stairs up. “Could find nothing, could find tartarus. Prepare for both.”

“I am, don’t worry,” I assured the griffon. It's nice having someone who is used to how things worked on my side. “Granted I would prefer to have a battle saddle, but I can fire this thing without one.”

Gold gave a firm nod. “Good. Stay close.”

We reached the top of the stairs, and I found myself staring at a massive glass ceiling. It was a glass ceiling, anyways. The feeling of something crack under my hoof telling me it too wasn’t spared by the balefire bombs. Along with chairs going down two main central walkways, there were several shops lining both the walls and middle of the station. They had seen better days; nopony had bothered to settle in the station itself it seemed, so everything still in the shops were two centuries old.

I probably could fly through the shattered ceiling and into the Trotson streets, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I needed help finding either Bone Breaker or Sharpshot, and Gold was my only option. He wasn’t flying, so I wouldn’t just to make sure. Perhaps his wings didn’t work that well anymore, given his age. I remember my grandma could barely get off the ground during her last few years.

“What a sight,” I whispered. “Must have looked even more amazing two centuries ago.”

“Yes. Won’t ever see that. It's long gone,” Gold replied. He turned his head towards a nearby trash can, seemingly untouched by the balefire compared to the destruction around it. “Will stay that way, with these around.”

He grabbed one of his shotguns, brought it up, turned the safety off, and loaded a slug. I looked to where he was aiming, seeing nothing but random items before me. I was pretty damn sure at that moment he was going senile, taking a few steps back for my safety. I watched as his eyes narrowed on the trash can, wrapped a talon around the trigger, and pulled.

I expected to see the obliteration of a perfectly average metal trash can. I did not expect it to morph into something else. I didn’t get a great look at what it looked like before its entire lower section was ripped apart. With the speed bullet, Gold loaded another slug and fired at what I assumed was the creature’s head. The sound of both rounds rang through the entire station several times before fading. I heard something shift to my side, and saw what it was that had nearly fooled me.

It was a giant bug-horse thing, glowing radioactive green. That, and the fact it was lunging at me was all anypony needed to tell it was hostile and feral. I got up on my hind legs and raised the novasurge rifle I had on me, the beast’s open mouth closing around its barrel. It wasn’t what I expected, but it worked, allowing me to pump three shots into it before throwing its lifeless body off my gun and far across the floor. The laser shots didn’t create the same mess as the slug rounds Gold had, but anyone could see the point where they exited out the back of its mouth.

I kept my rifle trained on it long enough to be sure it wasn’t alive, then lowered it. The creature’s insectoid eyes glowed blue, a unicorn-like horn on its head. It wasn’t any pony species I had ever heard of, leaving me to believe it was the cause of some balefire mutation. Certainly looked like it had been burnt to a crisp, but instead of burnt flesh it had the exoskeleton of any other insect.

“Guessing you know what it is?” I asked Gold, turning back to the griffon. He still had one of his shotguns in his talons, telling me we weren’t done with these things just yet.

“Shifters. That is what we call them. Not sure what they actually are,” He said as he started slowly walking through the right side of the station. I followed him, back turned to watch for any more of the insect creatures. “Nothing from before the bomb. Showed up after. Likely a mutation. Shapeshifting is odd, however.”

“Yeah. Seems more like a naturally-born ability than one given through over-exposure to radiation,” I said, keeping my movements in sync with that of Gold. It wasn’t fun using this rifle this way, but without a battle saddle I had to stay on my hind hooves. It was the only realistic way to fire this thing. “Guessing they have a tell, considering how easily you picked that one out.”

“The item they shift into is in mint condition. Anything new or shiny should be shot first,” Gold explained.

As soon as he said that, my eyes caught a magazine that seemed as if it had been freshly printed in the store to our left. I kept my eyes trailed on it, ready to shoot if the shifter attacked me. It made the wise decision to leave me be, and as the next shop cut my vision off from the one it was in. I returned to scanning everywhere else as I did.

The sound of two slugs being loaded and two shots being fired told me everything I needed about what Gold was doing. While I hadn’t shot anything that had left me alone, he was ready to clean the house. Any shifter he noticed was eviscerated with two shots. That was all he ever loaded, and that was all he ever seemed to need. The GPE would have approved of the efficiency, and I most certainly did. He was as good with a gun as Lucky had been.

I noticed a shifter to my right, having tried to attack me as soon as my eyes had started looking away from them. Quick as can be I snapped back to them and fired twice. The first shot missed, the second hit dead in the skull. It died mid lunge, body knocking into me and nearly sending me to the ground. It was easy enough to push off.

Near immediately after I got the dead shifter off me, my ears went ringing. I felt something hit me that was warm, wet, and most definitely not a living creature. I turned my attention back left, to what remained of a shifter right next to me. Its blood, which was more black and not red, covered my rear. The feeling was gross, but it was better than getting bit.

“Up stairs. Exit is there,” Gold yelled, pointing at a flight of stairs leading to the station's second level. It was more an attempted yell than anything. He started hacking as soon as he finished talking.

“Understood. I have your six,” I replied.

We picked up speed slightly, keeping our eyes out for any shifter dumb enough to come near us. That proved to be none as we passed station shop after station shop looking over every possible item that might be an enemy in disguise. They were smarter than I had given them credit for, and maybe not as feral as I had originally believed. They were clearly still animalistic, but it was entirely possible that, before the Last Day, they hadn’t been. A twisted version of a once intelligent species, like so many things on the wasteland surface.

The last shop passed by, and we had reached the stares with no injuries. Considering how encounters with enemies usually went, I would say that was far better than I ever would have expected. I didn’t want to know what would happen if those things bit me, and for now it would stay that way. Gold was the one to thank for that more than anything, though his unwillingness or inability to fly was also the reason we had been in harm’s way in the first place. If info wasn’t so important I would have just flown through the roof.

As long as they didn’t have wings under that chitin, of course. Then they were still a bit of a problem.

“Not out of woods. Only safe outside. Even then, shifters might be around,” Gold explained as we headed up the stairs. I had to drop back onto all fours to climb, feeling my balance starting to fail and not wanting to tumble down to the first floor. “Bite is deadly. Incredibly radioactive. Ghouls and Alicorns safe. We? Not so much.”

“Don’t get bit. Simple enough,” I said. He gave me a grunt as we reached the halfway point of the stairs.

The second floor wasn’t as crowded with things as the first, though that seemed to be on purpose. I could see what had to be a reception desk on the far side of the room. It was likely where ponies would get there tickets back when they were needed. The other side had a sitting area, the skeletons of ponies lucky enough to die instead of turning into a zombie visible. Perhaps such a fate was better than going to the clouds or ending up in a stable. They were blind to what the world had become.

Unlike the first floor, which had been filled with the shifters, the second felt barren. I caught maybe one total as we made our way from the stairs to the door leading outside. It had taken the form of a Ministry of Morale poster that looked a little too freshly printed. Considering they were on the far end of the building, I didn’t see them as worth the shot. They seemed to think the same as they let me get to the door without any problems.

Gold opened the door for me and allowed me to exit first. He followed right after and closed the door. We quickly checked the area around us, searching for anything that might be deadly, and then lowered our guns. I let out a sigh, happy at how smoothly things had gone even if my face refused to show it. Then I just… stared off into the city before me.

I had seen it while coming in on the train, but it felt different standing in it. The cloudless sky allowed the sun to shine, revealing how everything had seemed to lose its color to decades of neglect. If something did have color, the sand no doubt hid it from view. Any wastelander or Enclave soldier knows that their being actual sunlight in the city was unnatural. Some would ask what caused it.

I, however, could see what had the origin of the cloudless sky.

Off in the distance, sticking out like an Alicorn in an metaphorical orgy of earth ponies, was the mangled husk of an S.P.P tower. It wasn’t damaged in any way, but transformed. Where other towers were white, the bottom section of it had been encased in a black building. I know who it belonged to and why it had been built there.

That was where Shadow Corp was.

“Enjoying sunlight?” Gold asked me. I nodded as I glared at the mutilated tower. “Wasteland cloudy. Very sad looking. Less controlling, though. Here, Invisible Mare watches. Tower is hers.”

“As I should expect. No wonder she knew we were coming five years ago,” I replied, not noticing the griffon had made his way to my side till his shadow covered me. I glanced at him, and then back out to Trotson. “Was part of the Enclave force that came here five years ago. We went over the storm instead of through the tunnel. You can guess how the Invisible Mare took it.”

“I remember. Was here,” Gold replied. I winced at the knowledge he had seen, or at least been made aware, of how bad that had gone. “Horrid business. Sorry for your losses. Most don’t like Enclave. I’m not different, but loss of life is always sad.”

“It’s fine,” I told him, turning away from the tower and instead towards the city streets around me. “I’m guessing you got somewhere to be.”

“Yes. Visiting a friend. Young mare, only fifteen,” Gold explained, the faintest glimpse of a smile worming its way onto his face. “Stable dweller. Name is Lucky Heart. Bit loopy, but good where it counts. Hates cutie marks.”

I blinked at that last comment, wondering how in the goddesses bosom any pony could hate such a big part of them. There was a story there, but I wasn’t gonna delve deeper into it. For his raider-like appearance Gold seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Better and smarter than any other grounders I’ve met, that is for sure. If I wasn’t on a mission, I probably would have had interest in joining him.

“I’m also looking for a pony. A few ponies, actually,” I said. Now was the time to ask for directions before we part ways. “The names are Angel Hair, Sharpshot, and Bone Breaker. I heard the second and third ponies could help me find the first.”

“You’ll want the Quarry. Breaker’s group is there,” Gold said, pointing out into the city. I could make out what looked like a giant hole in the city. Up till then I had assumed that was where the bomb had landed. “Never heard of Angel Hair. Sharpshot? No clue. He likes to disappear after being found.”

“Got it. Thanks for info, and for sticking with me at the station,” I said, taking a step forward as I prepared to leave.

“One more thing.”

As soon as I turned to look at the griffin, I felt something jab into my neck. Reflexes kicked it, swinging one hoof hard at Gold’s talon, disarming him. I took a step back, the griffin looking at me calmly and stepping forward. The smile on his face grew as I felt the area that I had been jabbed, not knowing what it was.

That was when I noticed a syringe where there hadn’t been one before, laying on the ground in an unassuming manner. I looked back to Gold, then back to the syringe, the back of my neck stinging. I felt my head throb a little, but I ignored it as I tried to bring the gun up to point at me. He was already too close at that point, because by the time I had started raising the rifle up he had put his talon on it.

With me as close to his face as I was then, I could see the truth of his smile. I had originally thought it to be joyful, but now I saw otherwise. It was a somber smile, one that I couldn’t quite piece together. I felt the pound of my head grow, closing my eyes and bringing a hoof to my forehead. My gun hung in front of my neck. I stammered back in a sudden loss of balance, feeling weak and tired.

“What… What did you put in me?” I asked, the fright in my mind actually coming through my voice. Of course my emotions actually showed up now that I had been drugged.

I couldn’t stand, first falling onto my rear and then laying down on my side. I swore I was seeing code in the top left of my vision, but I couldn’t be sure; everything was blurry and reality felt a bit distant. The only thing I could be certain of was the existence of Gold looming over me, looking sad. I tried to open my mouth in an attempt to speak, but it did nothing. I was drifting to sleep for a reason I didn’t know.

“Welcome to Trotson.” Gold said. His voice sounded muffled and far away, but I could hear him.

Those were the last things I heard before my mind drifted to sleep, but not before I caught a glimpse of what looked like an EFS in my vision. It had a single, red dot on it.

----------------------------------------

Message from IM incoming…

…

…

Message received

I can confirm that our new arrival, subject P-1, has had the MentaBuck integrated without any complications. That is good, because it means whatever was keeping Pegasus bodies from accepting it into their biological system has been eliminated. Took enough of them for it to work. It means we won’t have to bury another body… hopefully. We still have no clue if it will have long term effects on the subject's body. That is why we have field testing. Our agent will also be keeping a close eye on her once he is done with his visit. Minsters always said friendship was important.

He is taking her to the test site now. Time to see if a pegasus reacts any differently to the MentaBuck than Unicorns.

As for the other pegasus we’ve been keeping an eye on, it seems she isn’t Enclave. She probably doesn’t know we’ve been copying the data she has with her. Oh boy is some of this juicy, and perhaps a little dangerous. Doesn’t seem to be complete though. A shame, but considering test subject P-1 is looking for her we may learn something about it all soon enough.

Also, to the big purple pile of scales I know is peeping at these logs, I have three words: she is mine! You don’t get to have this one, okay! Trotson is my city, and if I find you trying to hack a single Sprite-bot I’m gonna get real mad. You won’t like me when I’m real mad.