Chapter 1: Speak-Easy
“Now this is the story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down.”
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Boom. Headshot.
The body of what once was a mole rat came tumbling down to the rocky ground after having its pudgy head blown to bits by a sniper rifle several yards away. I wasn’t too far off that same spot, digging through a rust pile for scraps as my watchful gunpony, Justy, pulled the trigger on that varmint. The sudden, loud noise interrupted me, making me jump. I stared in shock momentarily at the auburn-locked manilla unicorn with a cheesecake slice and strawberry syrup cutie mark. He checked his foreleg gadget thing, which he calls a “PipBuck”, for any other hostiles in the area.
“I really think you should consider carrying a gun with you at all times, so I don’t have to foalsit you while you are doing your job.” He said in a chiding tone under his white sheriff hat that shielded his fiery mane. I gave him a defiant smirk before returning to my scrounging, obviously not giving a flying feather.
“Hey, if I did that then you’d be complaining about how bored you are with nothing to shoot at” I paused momentarily to put the metal scraps into my saddlebags, before continuing. “Besides, I believe that shot of yours just made you reach your one hundredth kill milestone for this month, pal.”
Justy’s eyes widened a bit. Either he forgot and was confirming this to be true, or he was creeped out by the fact that I remembered and kept track during this whole time. Whichever it was, the mercenary made a ‘Yes!’ gesture victoriously. He will be getting a bonus thanks to his contract agreement when he first got assigned to me. Suddenly, an earth pony wearing a jumpsuit over his green coat emerged from an abandoned outhouse a few feet from us.
“Howdy you two! Ah got mah quota, how ‘bout you Flash?” He asked in a chipper tone, his chestnut mane in dire need of a wash. His saddlebags are busting out the seams with all sorts of goodies. I almost envy his effective, yet questionably crude, finding skills.
I nervously scratched the back of my head. “Oh hey Tune Awp. I’ll be needing a few more minutes since I’m still sorting through all this crap.” Unlike him, I’m a bit more selective about what I decide to take back with me to our employer in New Appleoosa. However, as I saw the sun starting to set for the day, I decided to just quickly wrap up what I was currently sifting through and motioned my two companions to begin our mile long trek back home.
Being a citizen in Appleoosa isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Simply put, I’m a scavenger. I find useful things from abandoned places- guns, food, mostly worn-out metal you name it- and give them to Mayor Railright’s maintenance officer for a small amount of caps monthly. It’s not a glamorous job by any means but I was provided a small house, which I share with Tune Awp my partner in salvaging. That is worth a lot down here, especially since I don’t have to pay rent, being a municipal employee and all. My only regret is that my friend does a better job than I do, thanks to his lack of pickiness. I personally think around a third of what he brings back in gets tossed back out the following day.
‘Justy’, short for Just Desserts, is a hired gunpony who has been in this town assigned to protect me and my partner by the city for two and a half months. He sleeps in the motel down the lane in the shopping district near Ditzy Doo’s Absolutely Everything and the local pub. He’s a cool unicorn for somepony of his occupation but despite the three of us warming up to each other, it’s no surprise that he’s only in it for the caps by the end of the day. Me and Tune Awp were assigned to him by the mayor after protesting about one job incident involving a large Radscorpion and a very, very close call. Thankfully, no pony was injured since I was able to escape while Tune Awp crippled the monster’s legs with a shotgun we luckily found that particular day. Not to mention he’s cheap, at least after I helped my boss, Steady Plug, talk his rates down.
With heavy thud, Steady weighed in our spoils and prepared our weekly salary behind his office counter in the city station. For a middle aged, charmingly balding earth buck, he sure was taking his sweet time counting the caps one by one while we stood waiting on the other side.
“49...50...51...52! Come pick up your pay Tune!” I silently thanked the goddesses that the trip back to town had no raiders or beasts to attack us and that I was finally able to relax for this week. “28...29...30...31! Here’s your share Flashbang,” he chuckled slightly as I grabbed the pouch muttering, “behind as usual.” What a dick.
Afterwards, he dismissed us swiftly pointing his hoof to the exit since he now had to get back to sorting and putting what we found to good use. I sighed a bit on the way out while Tune beamed at his jingling cap bag. Forty caps is the average pay which is determined more by quantity than quality. Not a big issue for me; I’m broke not destitute.
About myself, my name is Flashbang. I’m a chocolate brown earth stallion with a cobalt mane and yellow highlights. Unsurprisingly, my cutie mark is a flashbang sphere in mid-detonation. I think I got it because I’m quite a good galloper. My ability of reaching top galloping speed in less than ten seconds flat has helped me keep my scavenging job since my build allows me to outrun the many dangers out there, so far at least. My parents moved here when I was still a young colt and I grew up here, my dad died defending the town from some yao guais, my mom developed dementia over the years and now lives in her psychiatric ward quarters. I did mourn for them both but that’s now years past. My father’s death is why I didn’t want to have a guard job or anything that has to do with guns. Now, I work this job with a few other scavengers in groups of two and it has been this way ever since I came of age.
“Flash, we ‘ought to hurry ‘n go meet up with Justy at the bar like we told him we’d do.” Tune Awp reminded me after we finished having a quick bite from a cheap street vendor. It is said that ponies are not meant to eat meat because we are supposed to be vegetarians or something but whoever said that is wrong. Those ant meat burritos and radigator sandwiches really fill you up. Maybe, it’s just that we’ve adapted diet-wise I’ve never really had any problems or second thoughts with meat eating.
I nodded. “Yeah, I suppose we shouldn’t leave him waiting. Let’s go.” We tipped the food vendor and made our way across town towards the ‘Tipsy Gelding’. Before we reached our destination, I spotted a couple of ponies heading straight out of town with the corner of my eye. One of them is a strange gray mare with another one of them Pipbuck things, while the other one is none other than ‘Deadshot’ Calamity with his trademark hat and battle saddle. It seems that the two have geared up to the teeth with help from Ditzy’s shop and are on their way to shooting up a storm to someplace that’s certainly dangerous.
While it was an odd and quite scary sight, I soon perished the thought from my mind since it was none of my business and I’m with my colleagues to get drunk. Me and my friend disappeared past the bar’s wooden swing doors.
I found Justy in the bar area waiting patiently while the bartender was cleaning his glassware. “Justy!” We called out to him and he waved us in to sit by him. The shelf on the bar is filled with different spirits and vintages along with some stacks of cups and mixers. On the other hoof, the stools were half-filled up as workers come to loosen up after a good day’s work in the ambiently-lit relaxing social atmosphere.
“Only a couple minutes late! Quite an improvement from last time you two.” He joked. We then proceeded to have a good time discussing new milestones and talking possible job routes, the place was now fairly full and the night young. After a mug or two, we weren’t really hammered yet so Justy pointed me to a fairly new gizmo installed on the far corner of the establishment.
“You should try it out,” he goaded. “It checks your weight, asks you questions and pops out an evaluation of you. It’s fun!” Tune Awp turned his head and gave him a quizzical look.
“Ah ain’t spendin’ mah hard-earned caps on some dumb evaluator,” He put his hoof on his chin for a second or two before shoving me towards it “unless ol’ Flashbang ‘ere does it first.”
“Wha-hey!” I shouted in protest, but gave in since a part of me was indeed curious. Looking back at my companions for a second, I turned and trotted over to the ‘Vitatron Pep-o-meter’ and inserted a cap on the open slot to activate it. I stood on the scale provided and answered the questions it generated in a cute pre-war manner. My unicorn pal was right, it was fun. Shortly after, it was finished and the machine printed out what it listed as my “S.P.E.C.I.A.L.” :
Flashbang’s S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
5 - 4 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 6 - 4
Amused with my results, I made my way back to where Tune Awp and Justy are while the technical earth pony gets up to check his stats with the Vitatron, steering clear from other patrons and bar staff passing by. It may not be visible with the jumpsuit on him right now but I’ve seen his cutie mark before, it’s a bullet turned on it’s side cut in half. Tune’s had a knack for fixing broken things and even making custom parts to existing ones like that automatic can-opener he made for me on my birthday last year. Where did he learn how to do that? Self-taught? I better ask him one of these days.
“So, how well did you score?” Justy chirped as he took another swig on his beverage. I handed him my print out, having minor qualms on how a simple machine can even measure something as subjective as Luck.
Feeling a bit of boredom, I eyed the bar casually to get a feel of how busy it would be tonight and to get a better look at my surroundings. A realization hit me like a football to the back of the head. Not only is this place packed, but there’s a lot of griffins visiting and they don’t look like peaceful passer-bys either. More like, they appear to be rugged wasteland folks with weapons and scars to match. I nudged my increasingly inebriated friend to ask him something about these particular guests. I had a bad feeling in my gut about these guys.
“JD,” he knows that when I call him by that name then I’m not fooling around. “Why is this bar full of suspicious,” I coughed into my hoof before continuing in a near whisper, “unsavory griffins tonight?” He looked me with a dour expression that shows some hint of drunkenness almost as if he can’t believe I’m being concerned on his special occasion.
“Huh? Oh, they’re the White Gold Feather Company trade caravan group.” He replied, putting his drink down for a minute. “They make quarterly rounds across the wastes cycling on different towns to avoid hostile attacks supposedly, but I bet it’s mostly to keep a low profile from competition.” He added this bit after a small pause to help calm my nerves. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen their types before every now and then back when I didn’t work in this town here with you.” With that attestation, I finally eased up a bit.
So it looks like all I need to do is to act natural and not piss those birds off while they’re here and I should be fine. Tune Awp made his way back to us in our bar spot soon after. “Ah can’t believe this,” He crumpled up his results slip and tossed the paper ball in the nearest trash bin. “that stupid contrapshun can’t measure mah rootin’ tootin’ skills worth a damn!” I wasn’t surprised by his remark since he really can be full of himself sometimes, being three years older than me and all. I just averted my unimpressed eyes with a sigh.
“No need to rub your superiority in even further.” I muttered trying to cheer him up.
Time flew by, so did a couple more downed drinks. The three of us were really having a good time celebrating our work achievements with Justy’s milestone being the highlight among the banter-laden bar music. I’m sure that my two buddies are less sober than me now since they’re having a bit too much fun, no wait that’s the whole point. It’s quite dark outside and the lights turned up since everyone’s filled up on grub by now. Some of the sensible ponies were even beginning to call it a night and head back to their homes.
I got shaken out of my daydream when my friends called me over to a private room with several of the griffins from the same trading group. At first, I was quite apprehensive but then I told myself to just ‘act natural’. I kept a friendly attitude front as I pulled up a chair around the four strangers and my companions. It looks like they were all about to start gambling using cards as caps being put on the center of the table as chips. Fortunately, the stakes weren’t low enough to join and it looked safe enough from my viewpoint.
A big brown and silver griffin with a chipped motorcycle cap was our dealer and tactfully shuffled the cards with ease. “Nice of you to join us. Marko’s the name and Omaha’s the game.” He motioned everyone to have a seat before he resumed his card fiddling, “this isn’t a pussyfooting game like Blackjack so everyone ante up!” Me and Tune Awp were so game, placing twenty five caps in front of us as the other three players did the same. Justy and one of the other griffins, Paulie I think was his name, stepped out to get us all more refreshments and to arrange designated drunk guides. Fortunately, I knew the rules of this game because I planned on winning it big! The other players for tonight were called Jeff, Shawn and Tookie. Tookie huh? What a weird name for a gruff, feathered thug wearing an eyepatch.
The music outside quieted down as the door shut us. Marko dealt our first hand. All of us who were playing looked at our hands being careful not to show them to the players. I didn’t like this hand, the odds weren’t good enough. “Fold.” I surrendered my hand but fortunately I didn’t have to put in some caps that round. Shawn folded too, the rest of them played the first round. The flop came and Tune Awp raised enough to scare the other griffins for the first win.
“Well, if you birdbrains don’t want it, Ah’ll just take it!” He said triumphantly, taking the pot. I was getting an inkling that these players around us weren’t very keen on being smack talked judging from the brief glares.
Looking at my cards again, I went ahead to dispose of this garbage forfeiting my blinds. “This hand stinks worse than having carcass chunks on your clothes all day.” I kicked back on my chair, noticing that Justy was taking his time out there with the other griffin. Probably ogling at some of the patron mares or something.
My friend flashed a cheesy grin, pushing more of his caps on the table. “Ah don’t know ‘bout the rest of you, but ah like these cards.” I swear I could smell the liquor through his breath. “A lot!” In my opinion, he was getting too loud and I struggled not to plant my hoof on my face in front of the four griffins that look to be increasingly agitated by his impressive display of sportsmanship. Jeff dropped his hand, growling under his breath while the other two players called Tune on his raise.
“Watch yourself.” Tookie warned, baring his talons instinctively which my eyes spotted were squeezing the edge of the table.
“All in!” The pony mechanic shoved all his money onto the pot. I coughed in reaction to mask my surprise at such boldness. No one else visibly reacted but they all folded so that round is over. At this rate, it looks like my pal here is the one who is going to win it all this evening. “Ah could ‘ave been bluffin’ that time, but thanks for the money anywho.” He gleefully took his money, with interest, back.
This does not look good, even I can tell that Marko the dealer is getting increasingly miffed with Tune Awp’s manners. Too bad I can’t just tell him to shut up in front of the visitors while we’re supposed to be having a blast tonight. The next round was different in that Tune Awp folded and I was actually able to play my cards this time. The flop came.
“Ah’ll sit this one out gentlemen.” Please for the love of Celestia, be quiet! Feeling a little risky myself, I bet a third of my money on this hand to the table. Jeff pulled out, silently cursing us crazy ponies. Shawn and Tookie remained with the menacing eyepatch griffin countering with a re-raise.
This guy is challenging me and I’m not backing down now. “I get that you’re supposed to be big and intimidating and all, but you’re making a big mistake my friend.” I said, matching his bet. Any higher and I’ll pass the point of no return, so I pray that he’s not going to raise the bet any higher. I freely admit that line I just used wasn’t was best thing to say during the time.
Shawn heaved a groan and folded, we were now at the turn waiting for the river. Both of us checked and we had a showdown as the last card, a King of Clubs, hit the table. I flipped up my cards to reveal my double pair of Fives and Jacks, Tookie flipped his hand to reveal that he had triple kings. I lost and he took the pot with a boastful smirk. “Better luck next time, little pony.” Tookie sneered. I knew it’s just a game but I can’t help but fume internally with my wonderful streak of bad luck.
There was a noticeable ‘Thump!’ coming from the ceiling, everyone’s eyes shifted around for a second. Well. I didn’t know ponies were now doing THAT upstairs... Is it really that late? That better not be my bodyguard... I wouldn’t be too surprised if it did turn out that Justy went to get some tail since this wasn’t the first time it happened, that lazy bastard. With that in mind, me and Tune Awp’s eyes met for a moment and he gave a knowing shrug with a “hmph,” as if reading my mind.
The next round came, Tune Awp looked somewhat less cocky that time. His cards were either that mediocre or the alcohol is starting to pass through his system. It could have easily been both but nevertheless he called for that round. “I hope you can beat all reds!” Tune Awp jeered as everyone placed their bets and the flop revealed three red cards. From the looks of the griffins faces though, they were getting tired of his winning.
“Oh yeah? All in.” Shawn egged, moving all his caps to the pot.
Jeff shook his head and slid his cards away from him folding before he kicked back to a more comfortable sitting position. That was when I noticed that him and Shawn were carrying rope on them. What an odd fashion statement, even for New Appleoosan standards. “Hell naw, this is gonna get ugly.” He barked.
Tookie, on the other hand, went balls deep in as well. The center of the table looked very impressive now, at least in terms of low-stakes Omaha. That definitely got corresponding responses from me and my friend back on our side of the table with his incredulous gasp being more apparent than my sly whistle. Something was definitely amiss, are those empty potato sacks on top of those crates in the the far corner? And more importantly, where the blazing hellhounds is Just Desserts?!
Not wanting to see my friend get ganged up on, I called the two griffins on their bluffs, going all in. “Oh it’s on. Prepare to lose.” I gave a flashy wink at Tune Awp to get him to loosen up from all this tension. I had two aces in my hand ready to dominate this round from Tookie’s boys. He took this cue to follow me and go all in as well, trusting my plan. The air felt thick with all of this reckless betting. Much so that it made Marko have to put his cards down and step out for a drink.
“Just a few seconds you psychos, I’ll be right back.” Shawn and Jeff grunted impatiently while Tookie chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow at me for a few seconds which I found a bit disturbing. The end of the game is at hand and all that griffon wants to do is continue creeping me out? Perhaps I’m just absolutely buzzed out of my mind.
“You look like you got a question, little pony. Well?” Tookie pulled out a cloth rag to wipe his forehead with while the other two griffins in front of us made stretching gestures. I didn’t notice that this, well everything that happened prior really, was all a diversion until it was too late.
WHAM!
Tune Awp slumped forward on the table motionlessly as Marko suddenly knocked his lights out with a pre-war baseball bat, both his cards and caps spilling over the floor. “Tune A- Ack!” I tried to yell but got cut off with a bat swinging for a home run on the side of my face with such painful force that made me tumble onto the floor.
Amidst the burning sensation on the right side below my eyes, I can tell this will bruise for a while as I spat out a bloody tooth that came from the back of my now swollen, bleeding mouth. The griffins acted quickly, I heard them getting out of their seats in my unpleasant daze. I wasn’t able to react in time or defend myself. My ears picked up on some shuffling as the thugs were fixing to kidnap me and Tune Awp. Tookie pinned me down to keep me from escaping and jammed a drugged cloth to my schnozzle. I can only stare weakly at his uncaring, cold gaze before the chloroform took effect and I passed out as they dumped me in one of the sacks. My final thoughts wondering what in Celestia’s name were planning to do with us simple pony folk.
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Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Extra Special - You can put a single extra point into any of your SPECIAL attributes. PER increased by 1! (4->5)