Silver pulled her muffler over her nose and ducked her head as she gritted her teeth around the bit of cardboard. She positioned the scissors above her ear and took a deep breath.
Every pony had a chip in their ear, right at the tip. Every time a pony passed under a camera or com, they would be identified. This was a great predicament for a run away or a rebel, so the only way to be able to disappear was to get rid of the chip,
Silver bit down on the piece of cardboard and pulled the scissors shut around her ear tip, slicing it off cleanly. Silver shrieked, screaming around the bit so as not to bite or swallow her tongue. The slice began to bleed, and blood ran freely down her thin coat of gray and silver.
She coughed and spit out the cardboard, letting it fall to the ground as she collapsed against the dumpster. Silver gasped and reached for her scarf, placing it against her ear and sighing as the blood stopped running into her eyes.
It hurt. It hurt like fire and like anything else that causes pain. Silver leaned her shoulder against the dumpster as she looked up at the ledge above her. No cameras. No surveillance; Silver nodded to herself and sighed.
Luckily, she always kept a small first aid kit in her saddlebag, and she opened the tiny red box to find the gauss and cleaner. With a hiss, she opened the bottle of cleaner and spread it on her ear, late applying the gauss. She wiggled her ear experimentally, then, when the pain ebbed slowly away, Silver pulled the now bloody scarf over her mouth. She tucked the bloody cloth down and stood up shakily.
She was a mess; to anypony else, she would have looked like a poor college student that was down on their luck. Her wrapped ear (which was tucked underneath her hat so as not to call suspicion) as well as her burn mark, her drooping tired eyes, her dirty mane and tail, her tear stained cheeks.
Silver stretched and yawned with relish, her muscles popping and sighing as she twisted her body so as to wake up. She stood up and shook her mane, brushing it back with her hooves.
Silver had everything mapped in her head; Potts' house was under surveillance. Silver couldn't go back to her apartment room, or to the school. She scratched her chin and sighed. The school was the most guarded place, and no one, not even her old professors would help her. She didn't have any friends in the school district; all of her friends were in Ponyville (which was too far away).
But...
Silver made her decision and clipped her saddle bag shut and took a deep breath. She wiggled her way out from between the dumpster and wall and skipped slightly so as to catch herself from tripping. The air was cold and wet, and Silver nuzzled her nose into the muffler as she stepped out onto the street, her head held high.