Trigger to Tomorrow Side Story: Crossfire

by thatguyvex

Chapter 6: Crossfire and Skull City

Chapter 6: Crossfire and Skull City

When she trotted out the door from the armory, with a new pair of black vinyl saddlebags strapped to her that were bulging at the seams, Crossfire earned a quirked eyebrow from Mane Event. The gender ambiguous pony glanced between the two saddlebags and cleared his throat with a nervous half smile.

“What did you do, stuff the entire armory in there?” Mane Event asked.

Crossfire gave him a narrow eyed, thin lipped smile that made Mane Event shudder a bit, “Not all of it.”

“Right, right. Well, no matter to me. It’s all Nightbane’s stuff, and he let you have free run of it. So, let’s get you into makeup real quick-”

“No,” Crossfire said flatly. Mane Event’s ears sagged and he pouted his lips.

“Have it your way. I think just a touch of eyeshadow would do wonders for you, but so be it. This way then,” Mane even said while leading Crossfire to the sealed pair of double doors. Mane Event opened the doors by pressing a button, causing them to slide open smoothly and silently. Beyond them was a small space about large enough for two or three ponies to fit comfortably. At Crossfire’s look Mane Event gestured her to enter, which Crossfire did after only a second of hesitation. While the confined space looked suspicious, if Nightbane wanted her dead he’d had plenty of chances to have her killed earlier.

Once inside the doors sealed behind her and lights came on above. Mane Events voice crackled through a pair of speakers, “We’ll be broadcasting live. Try to make a good show of things, perhaps a little mugging for the cameras if you understand the concept. Oh, and break a leg!”

Crossfire sighed, suppressing her irritation. She didn’t plan on making a show of anything. She was going to kick Nightbane’s flank if she could, and go down swinging if she couldn’t. Either way, she had other concerns beyond satisfying Nightbane’s whims. As long as he made good on his offer to make her part of the Drifter Guild that was all she wanted from him; past that the griffin could sit on a grenade for all she cared.

There was a shift in the room and Crossfire could feel movement. At first she thought the room itself was an elevator, but seeing the floor slide down and the ceiling above her open up, she realized it was just the room’s floor that was a lift, taking her up through the ceiling. Light blared down on her from above and she squinted, shielding her eyes as she was lifted into an entirely new room; one that was so large she imagined it had to encompass the entire dimensions of one floor of Gunner’s Heaven.

She stood at the top of a platform now, with a semi-circular set of metal steps leading down into a vast arena illuminated by ceiling covered in solid panels of magical light, making the room almost uncomfortably bright. A complex maze of ramps, steel catwalks, and criss-crossing bridges made from metal grates filled the chamber, giving it the feeling of a vertical labyrinth. Crossfire noted other details with a quick glance; ropes hanging between drops as if meant to be used to swing across or climbed to get to higher or lower levels, and numerous steel barricades and obstacles that could be used as cover but also could impede movement.

Its a damn jungle-gym in here, she thought, taking a tentative step towards the edge of her platform, levitating her rifle off her back and holding it at the ready beside her.

“Welcome to the playground,” she heard Nightbane’s voice, speaking from across the arena and Crossfire spotted him standing on an identical platform to hers. He carried his unique weapon, the large, blocky submachine gun with the underslung knife-shaped bayonet, and had a cigar clenched in his beak.

“So now what? There a countdown, or do we just start shooting each other?” asked Crossfire, already planning her first moves. She didn’t know what to expect from Nightbane, but knew she wanted to stay moving, and in cover. She noted a set of barriers along a catwalk to her left that was pretty close.

“No countdown,” said Nightbane, spreading his wings, “Fight started the moment you entered the arena. Got plenty of eyes on us, so let’s have fun, shall we, and give the good folks at home something to watch!”

With that the griffin flew straight up and Crossfire broke into a gallop for the nearest ramp leading into the maze of catwalks.

----------

Sitting in a comfortable and plush leather seat the pure white unicorn stallion leaned forward, watching the monitors in front of him with intense gold eyes. A long, well groomed off-red mane hung down his shoulders. His eyes flicked briefly to the door to the lounge when it opened, and the stallion smiled as he watched an earth pony mare enter the room.

Hers was a odd colored coat, a faded fuschia. Her mane and tail were a light, lustrous gray, like the steel of the broad blade she wore on her back. Like the stallion the mare’s cutie mark was obscured by clothing, him wearing a white form fitting suit, and her wearing a dark leather trench coat. Her blue eyes met the stallions golden ones, and the stallion saw the faint tension in the mare.

“I didn’t expect to see you here Applegate, but it’s a pleasant surprise,” the stallion said.

“I need to talk to you Whiteheart, and didn’t want to wait until you were done here,” said Applegate as she slowly walked over, canting her head to look at the monitor, where Crossfire could be seen running along between barricades on a catwalk, her rifle firing away. On a different monitor, Nightbane could be seen smoothly slipping through the air, avoiding Crossfire’s shots with expert skill in using the catwalks as cover.

“A prospective recruit,” said Whiteheart with a knowing smile, “Nightbane apparently has found himself another pet project.”

Applegate sighed, shaking her head, “You indulge him too much.”

“He makes the Guild no small amount of profit,” countered Whiteheart, leaning forward as Crossfire leaped from one catwalk in daring dive for a higher cross bridge. She snatched it with her hooves, quickly hauling herself up as Nightbane passed beneath. Nightbane’s gun fired a blazing stream of shots, silver flashes erupting from the weapon’s muzzle. Crossfire rolled aside, bullets tearing past her. She used her magic to levitate her rifle over the edge of the catwalk and fired a shot that burst into a spreading stream of shrapnel fragments. Nightbane had to dive down and under another catwalk to avoid the deadly rain of metal.

“She is skilled,” Whiteheart said. Applegate frowned, her blue eyes gazing intently at the monitor that showed Crossfire rushing for a spiraling ramp leading to an even higher catwalk.

“That weapon,” Applegate said, “She’s a Protectorate soldier.”

“Do you know her?” asked Whiteheart.

Applegate watched for a few seconds, not immediately answering. On the monitors Crossfire reached the top of the spiral ramp, only to find Nightbane had shot upwards to the same level a few catwalks over. His gun sent a stream of silver streaking bullets towards the black mare, who rushed along her own catwalk, barely staying ahead of the storm of bullets. She returned fire fiercely, teeth grit, eyes focused. She worked the breach of her rifle with smooth speed, and each shot was accurate, on target. Nightbane twisted and rolled in the air, each of Crossfire’s shots narrowly missing the griffin’s flesh, as if he somehow knew where each shot was going before Crossfire even pulled the trigger.

Applegate, in the meantime, kept looking at the mare on the monitor, blue eyes unblinking as she examined Crossfire. Whiteheart watched Applegate with one eye, patiently awaiting her response, while watching the match with his other golden orb.

“No,” Applegate said at least, “She seems familiar, but it’s been many years since I was in my homeland. In all likelihood she merely reminds me of somepony.”

“And who would that pony be?” asked Whiteheart, still watching the fight unfold. The monitors for a moment lost track of both combatants, but Whiteheart knew Mane Event was orchestrating things behind the scenes and in short order the cameras shifted to catch both mare and griffin.

Whiteheart smiled, impressed with the black coated mare. She’d lured Nightbane into a small cul de sac of close arranged catwalks and ramps that blocked off much of the griffin’s room to maneuver, and she launched herself into the air to swing her large bayonet at the only place Nightbane could possibly go. The griffin, beak grinning and cigar clenched tight, used his own smaller bayonet to catch Crossfire’s blow. Crossfire, landing on a lower catwalk, turned and used her telekinesis to send her rifle into a spinning set of slashes, pressing Nightbane, taking shots at any opportunity.

With fluid ducks and turns the griffin kept himself out of harm’s way, but for a moment it almost seemed like Nightbane was on the defensive, which in Whiteheart’s experience was a rare occurrence with the griffin warrior.

“I am not confident enough to say,” Applegate said at last, as Nightbane pushed Crossfire’s rifle away far enough to dart out of the cul de sac he’d been lured into, firing away to send Crossfire into cover as he went.

“It’s just a feeling,” Applegate concluded with a shrug, “In any case, the reason I’m here is I need to speak with you about our guests from yesterday. The pegasi.”

Whiteheart laughed, lightly, waving his hoof, “Oh, them. Do you not want to take the assignment? They did request you by name.”

“I don’t trust them,” Applegate said firmly, “This... Odessa, doesn’t seem like they have Skull City’s best interests in mind.”

Whiteheart’s laugh only grew heavier as he watched the monitors. Crossfire had switched the clip on her rifle, and was firing behind her as she ran across a long catwalk. From each shot peals of smoke filled the air, creating a thick screen behind her. Nightbane was utterly obscured by the smoke, as was a solid fourth of the arena.

“Of course they don’t, Applegate. Remember, to them we are merely dirty, unworthy ‘landbound’. Hah, but yet they still come to us for help. Such is the strength of our Guild’s reputation,” Whiteheart said as his horn was bathed in gentle, snow colored magic which in turn wrapped around a glass of red wine sitting on a stand next to his chair. As he sipped the drink his eyes widened slightly in surprise at the scene on the monitor.

“Oh my, she’s a resourceful one, isn’t she?” he commented.

Applegate also saw what was happening on the monitors and her own surprise was quickly replaced with faint alarm, “Where did she get so many remote mines?”

“I would say that Nightbane was perhaps too forthcoming with his stock of munitions.”

Applegate glanced at the door out of the room, “Should we halt the match?”

“Oh, fear not, Nightbane built his arena with sufficiently reinforced materials to withstand significant punishment. The building will shake, but no more, through his playground may need quite a bit of reconstruction after this,” Whiteheart said with a soft laugh.

Applegate frowned, “I was more concerned with the health of the combatants. I didn’t think the point was for either of them to die here.”

“Have faith, Applegate,” Whiteheart said, no sense of concern in his tone.

On the monitors, while the smoke screen she’d created had billowed out, Crossfire had reached into her new saddlebags with her magic to withdraw small discs of what appeared to be mines, and had rapidly gone about placing half a dozen on the catwalk behind her. Once she was done she pulled out a detonator and threw herself behind a steel barricade along a catwalk that was perpendicular to the one she’d placed the mines on. Switching out the clip in her rifle, Crossfire levitated it over the top of the barricade and fired. The shots that came out were clearly not normal bullets, but instead white phosphorus rounds that burned a brilliant path through the air. Crossfire at first seemed to be firing at random, but then Whiteheart noticed she was angling her shots up into the ceiling, and as a result panels of the fluorescent lights were bursting apart, showering the area above the smoke with glass and sparks.

“Interesting, but what is she trying to accomplish?” Whiteheart mused.

“Flushing him,” Applegate said, “If she is Neighlisus Bayonet Corps then that mare is trained to use any opportunity to disorient her enemy.”

“Ah, but Nightbane has fought these Bayonet Corps before. Nothing she can do should be a surprise to him,” commented Whiteheart as he saw Nightbane fly up through the falling glass, using his gun to ward off the worst of the glass shards from his face as he got above the smoke screen. The griffin flew with amazing speed and grace through the rain of glass, then spun in the air, dodging a rapid burst of more phosphorus rounds from Crossfire.

Nightbane was still grinning, even as one of the phosphorus rounds caught his black coat and burned a hole through it, though it didn’t quite score his flesh, and he held his submachine gun in front of him. From a small chamber on the side of the gun Whiteheart saw a small, faint blue light glow, and the unicorn stallion smiled, shaking his head.

“He’s going to end it here.”

“There are still the mines,” Applegate pointed out.

Whiteheart continued to shake his head, leaning back in his seat and taking a long sip on his wine, “It doesn’t matter. Nightbane has finally acknowledged her as an opponent worth his fullest efforts. The battle is over.”

Applegate’s brow creased in a frown, but she didn’t argue the point. Whiteheart knew Applegate had faced Nightbane when he was serious. The unicorn chuckled to himself at the memory. That particular district of the Outskirts had needed no small amount of reconstruction after those two had finished that fight. He reclined in the soft folds of his chair, watching the monitors with a calm, critical eye. If this mare, this Crossfire, survived Nightbane being serious, if even for a few seconds, she was going to be a pony that warranted keeping a close eye on. Whiteheart made a business of finding and cultivating potential, and thus far he liked what he was seeing.

Nightbane, with one solid flap of his wide wings, dove towards Crossfire’s position. One monitor switched its angle so that Crossfire could be seen from behind her steel barricade, her yellow eyes narrowed as she saw Nightbane diving at her, and consequently passing over the spot she’d set her mines. Crossfire smiled grimly, hitting the trigger of her detonator.

Explosions rocked the catwalk, rending the metal and dropping half of the catwalk to the ground below. Through the smoke and shrapnel the dark, darting form of Nightbane could be seen, and it took even Applegate a moment to realize what had happened. The griffin had barrel rolled, flying beneath the catwalk just as the remote mines had detonated. He’d then completed his roll to avoid getting crushed by the falling catwalk. It had all been one, fast, smooth maneuver of the kind Applegate knew few could match, and fewer could have expected.

Crossfire had clearly been taken by surprise, the mare’s face a mask of shock as Nightbane appeared from her trap practically unharmed. To her credit she reacted fast, swinging her rifle around, but Nightbane was faster, the griffin diving right on top of the mare and tackling her off the side of the catwalk she’d taken cover on. The two spun in the air for a moment before both landed on the steel floor of the arena with a hefty smack. Both combatants rolled away from one another, Crossfire springing to her hooves despite what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder, and Nightbane just as fast, with one wing bent out of shape from the rough landing.

Both Crossfire and Nightbane brought their weapons to bear in the same instant and Whiteheart leaned forward as twin shots rang out, deafening in the arena.

Crossfire’s bullet tore past Nightbane’s head, tearing off a few feathers and cutting a red line across his cheek. Nightbane’s burst of fire from his sub-machine gun stitched a line across Crossfire’s rifle, sending the weapon spinning away, out of the red aura of her telekinesis.

For a few seconds they both stood there, staring at each other, Crossfire’s face drawn tight in a deep, snarling frown, her teeth grinding. Nightbane was grinning, and kept his weapon trained squarely on her.

Whiteheart, setting back in his seat, pressed a button on the side of the chair with a hoof, activating an internal speaker into the arena.

“Nightbane, that’s enough. She’s more than proven herself.”

The griffin laughed, and Whiteheart heard his reply over the monitor.

“Guess the show’s over then. Nice bit of fighting there, kid. Actually got my blood pumping.”

Crossfire’s only response was to snort derisively as she retrieved her weapon and said, “Just show me the damned door out. I’ve got work to do, and need to get my rifle fixed.”

“She has no idea the kind of honor she’s been given, has she?” asked Whiteheart with a shake of his head, laughing in amusement, “Her irreverence, is it a matter of arrogance or ignorance, I wonder?”

Applegate turned from the monitors, which switched to a view of some of the other matches taking place across Gunner’s Heaven, and eyed Whiteheart grimly, “The matter concerning Odessa. If it is your insistence I take the assignment, I will, but I tell you now Whiteheart we are playing with a dangerous group. Tread carefully with these dealings of yours, lest you drag down the entire Drifter’s Guild.”

“Cease worrying, before you turn yourself into an old mare before your time,” Whiteheart said, refilling his wine glass, “But I thank you for taking the job. I’d have hated to have to send anypony less suitable.”

“Like Nightbane?” Applegate asked, a hint of a smile on her otherwise stiff features.

Whiteheart’s reply was a deep chuckle.

Applegate took that with a small shake of her head and she turned, departing silently. Whiteheart continued to sip his wine as he examined the monitors, still eyeing the one remaining monitor that showed Nightbane’s arena, and the black unicorn mare that stomped out of the exit door that had appeared now that the match was over.

“Welcome to the Drifter’s Guild, young mare,” Whiteheart said, raising his wine glass in toast as Crossfire left the monitor’s field of view, “I’m expecting interesting things from you.”

----------

Getting her rifle fixed was simple enough, as Gunner’s Heaven was fully equipped with all the facilities that those who’d fight in its arenas could dream of. Shops for weapons, armor, ammunition littered one wing of the building, including repair shops. Mane Event had given Crossfire a generous supply of little bronze coins, the same Gella coins she’d seen Wellspring use to bribe Skinner before. She didn’t quite know the value of the coins, but it hadn’t taken many to pay one of the repair shops to fix up the damage Nightbane had done to her rifle.

She fumed silently as she sat waiting for the unicorn armorer to finish using a complicated magical spell she didn’t begin to understand to use raw materials to rapidly fix the damage to her rifle. She wanted to deck Nightbane so badly it was like her hoof ached. It wasn’t just that he’d damaged her rifle, it was just in general principle for how cocky the bastard was. It was going to be torture having to deal with the guy on a daily basis.

But like or not, she was Drifter’s Guild now. Nightbane had told her he’d give her the grand tour of the Guild headquarters later and help set her up with quarters. Crossfire wasn’t too keen on that, but it’d do until she could find a place of her own, and sorted things out with Knobs and Bruise. But before all that, once her rifle was fixed, she had some matters to attend to back in the Outskirts.

Two loose ends to tie up named Skinner and Spiked Heels.

“Here you go miss!” said the overly cheerful armorer as he approached where she’d been sitting on a bench next to the open front of the shop. He had a blindingly bright pink coat and a neon blue mane, and far too much pep for a fellow who worked on weapons.

“Lovely piece of work if I do say so,” the stallion said, his eyes roving over her rifle with an appreciative whistle, “I’ve seen Protectorate weapons like it, but this one’s been made with special care.”

Crossfire fixed the stallion with a grumpy stare and took the rifle in her own magic, shouldering it, “It’s fixed?” She asked as she carefully examined her weapon with the critical eye of a parent ensuring their child is uninjured.

“Good as new,” the stallion proclaimed, “You ever need anything worked on again you just remember Polished Sheen and come on back! I’d love to keep that weapon as fine tuned as I can. I saw your match against Nightbane. Never seen anypony give that griffin so much trouble. Hey, you doing anything later tonight? I know a nice club near the west gate. I’d be happy to-”

“No,” Crossfire said simply, turning to leave. She paused only a second to say, “Thanks. Rifle is in good shape. See you later.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before marching away, winding through the crowds. She reached the main entrance to Gunner’s Heaven and hesitated a moment at the threshold. A part of her wanted to go back to Knobs, to see her friend again before she did what she felt she had to do. But Crossfire knew if she went back and talked to Knobs then Knobs might well figure out what Crossfire was planning and try to talk her out of it. And Knobs would probably succeed. Crossfire knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with this if Knobs asked her to stay.

Crossfire squared her shoulders, narrowed her eyes, and with a determined step, left Gunner’s Heaven.

She had no fear of being caught by any of the armed guards that patrolled the streets of the Inner City. Nightbane had given her a ‘day pass’ before she’d left to get her rifle fixed. It’d keep the authorities from tossing her out the gate, and also allow her back in, as long as the magical signature on the small plastic card remained; which it would for twenty four hours.

The streets were relatively clean and the passing ponies looked similarly clean and civilized compared to the squalor Crossfire had seen in the outskirts. There was a faint aura of fear about everypony, though, as if each passing pony, griffin, or ghoul had a sense about them of lingering danger. It reminded Crossfire of how the towns back home in the Protectorate had felt during the war, with the residents always on edge about the possibility of being invaded by Skull City’s gangs and Guild’s.

The Inner City was arranged haphazardly, one thing it shared with the Outskirts. Most the buildings were two to three story affairs of brick and concrete, with a cluster of larger towers towards the center and north, including the three largest towers whose tops were blackened, with piercing bits of steel and glass reaching upwards like shattered teeth. Crossfire looked at those towers and wondered why, if the ponies tried so hard to keep the Inner City looking normal, that those towers were left ruined, and indeed seemed to have lights built into them to maintain the visage akin to a skull.

Some kind of half-assed symbolism, Crossfire wondered?

She ignored much of what she passed, only pausing to ask for directions. Before long she noticed she had company. Crossfire sighed and turned down an alley, following the now much more dirty alleyway until she turned a corner and found a dead end. She turned and waited for her pursuer to show up, knowing the unsubtle mare wouldn’t bother trying to hide.

Bruise came around the corner a minute later, her bulky frame halting a few paces away from Crossfire. Bruise looked at Crossfire with a hard edge to her eyes, lips pressed tight. She wasn’t wearing her battle saddle, Crossfire noted, but Bruise looked no less ready for a fight.

“What? Concerned for my safety so you decided to trail me in case I got mugged?” Crossfire asked sarcastically. Bruise snorted.

“Saw you leaving. Was waiting to see where you’d go,” Bruise said, eyeing Crossfire up and down, taking note of the saddlebags Crossfire wore, as bulging as they’d been when she’d entered the arena with Nightbane, “What are you planning?”

Crossfire tensed, “Plan? No plan. I’m making this one up as I go along... but I’m not leaving anypony out there that’s got a reason to hurt Knobs. Not Skinner, not Spiked Heels... nopony.”

“Skinner I give no shits about,” said Bruise, spitting, “But you go after Spiked Heels, you’re going to end up mowing through a lot of friends of mine before they take you down, and make no mistake they will take you down. You can’t beat the whole gang.”

“Not if I fight fair,” said Crossfire, “So what? You’re going to stop me?”

“Was thinking about it,” Brisue admitted, and the big mare for a moment looked hesitant, “Only way I can think to stop you is brawl with you here and now and hope the Enforcers drag us both away for disturbing the peace, of whatever bullshit they’ll charge us with. Even a day pass won’t keep us out of jail or getting sold to the Labor Guild if we break the Inner City’s precious fucking rules.“

Crossfire had to admit she hadn’t thought of that. She had no doubt she could take Bruise down, maybe even without killing the mare, but it’d call down the guards on them both and while she might wriggle out of trouble, it’d keep her in lockdown for awhile she imagined. Still, she’d rather take her chances with that then leave enemies out there that’d go after Knobs at some point in the future.

“So why haven’t you jumped me yet?” she asked, “Your plan isn’t bad, even I’ll admit that.”

Bruise’s jaw tightened, “Because I want Knobs safe too. And you’re right. Spiked Heels isn’t the forgiving sort. Unless she’s taken out of the picture, Knobs will always be in danger any time she leaves the Inner City, and even then... well, Spiked has contacts this side of the Wall.”

“So...?” Crossfire prompted.

“So, here’s the deal,” Bruise said, “I got friends in the Hammer Crushers I don’t want dead, but quite frankly Spiked Heels ain’t one of them. She’s an alright boss, but ponies die everyday and I won’t cry over her corpse. I’ll help you get to her without you having to get your fool ass killed fighting the gang, and you let me take care of the rest from there.”

“And Skinner?”

Bruise spat again, as if that alone said all she wanted to on the subject.

Crossfire smiled thinly, “Then I think I might have something resembling a plan, actually...”

----------

Spiked Heels was still furious. Most of her gang knew to keep their distance from her when she was in this kind of mood. Not only had that cunt Wellspring betrayed her but she’d lost too many of the gang chasing after that Protectorate bitch and the apprentice ghoul wrangler that’d been stupid enough to try and help her. Spiked Heels had lots of ideas in her head as to just what kind of pain she was going to inflict any of them if they turned out to have survived their jaunt in the sewers!

She had already put out a few feelers among her contacts both in the other territories of the Outskirts and in the Inner City, hoping to hear any news if those mares had surfaced somewhere. The notion that they’d died fast to some monster’s claws in the sewer and not by her own hoof dug under Spiked Heels’ skull.

“Boss?” a gang mare, an earth pony ghoul, asked as she approached Spiked Heels, who was busy pacing the main chem lab. There was a skittish, apprehensive twitch in the ghoul ganger’s features, looking at Spked Heels with a nervous gulp.

“What!?” Spiked growled, showing bared teeth. The ghoul drew back, grimacing, as if expecting to be struck. Spiked Heel’s realized she’d raised her hoof and spread her wings, spiked horseshoes ready to strike. The pegasus took a calming breath and folded her wings, saying again, “What?”

“Uh, boss, you’re not gonna believe this, but Bruise just showed up at the gate.”

Spiked Heels blinked, shaking her head in disbelief, “Bruise? Thought you said she got diced by some monster down below?”

The ghoul mare, one of the few survivors of the gangers who’d gone down into the sewers and been given a shot to escape by Bruise staying behind to cover them, nodded, actually smiling a rotted grin, “Yeah, but looks like she made it! She’s askin’ to see ya.”

Spiked Heels sat on her haunches, frowning, but only for a moment, “Right, send her in.”

Work in the chem lab slowed slightly at the conversation but one sharp look from Spiked Heels got her ponies back to work. The Hammer Crusher’s mostly baked a special blend of Dash and Mint-als that was called Soarin’. It was popular stuff and Spiked Heels wanted to up production to quickly make up her losses in the gang. Easy enough to get ponies addicted enough to the drug that they’d willingly work for the gang with minimal pay outside of just getting a cut of the product. Most the newer recruits were brought in like that. Spiked liked her ponies loyal, and nothing forged loyalty like addiction. Only a few of the more veteran gangers weren’t addicts, mostly because Spiked Heels hadn’t started the practice until a few years ago.

Bruise was one of those veterans, and Spiked Heels would’ve been lying if she said she wasn’t glad to hear the huge mare was alive. The question was, what of the Protectorate bitch and the other mares that’d killed her gang members?

It wasn’t long before Bruise came through the doors and Spiked Heels noted how beat up Bruise looked, covered in a number of nasty bruises more purple than her own coat and sporting more than a few bad cuts that Bruise appeared to have bandaged up herself.

“Still alive. Fuck, I knew you were hard to kill Bruise, but even I’d given you up for dead,” said Spiked Heels as Bruise trotted up.

“Yeah, well, was a close thing,” said Bruise, voice quiet and gruff.

“Shit, you look like you need a drink,” Spiked Heels gestured towards one of the many bottles of alcohol that littered the tables of the chem lab, most the workers liking to indulge a bit as they worked their long hours. Spiked Heels didn’t care, long as the work got done.

Bruise shook her head, “Not really in the mood boss. Been a hell of a bad day.”

“I’ll bet. So, what happened? How’d you get out? Last I heard you were about to go hoof to claw with some nasty-ass sewer critter that’d taken out a lot of our gang.”

“No joke, that thing was a bitch to fight. Spent most my time just dodging it,” said Bruise, “Had to run out a side tunnel, following them ponies that you sent us after.”

“They dead?” asked Spiked Heels, leaning forward eagerly, licking her lips.

“No,” said Bruise, and at Spiked Heel’s twisting visage of ire she quickly added, “Least not Knobs. I followed them to a tunnel that led back up to the surface where that Wellspring mare took the Protectorate pony off towards the Inner City. Knobs, near as I could tell, went back to Skinner’s shack.”

“Skinner? The hell she’d go back to him for?” Spiked Heels asked. She wasn’t surprised Wellspring ran back into the Inner City with her tail tucked beneath her cunt. Wellspring was alright in bed but the mare was a coward and had no stomach for the nastier side of life. Why Wellspring wanted the Protectorate bitch Spiked Heels couldn’t guess, but it didn’t matter. She’d keep her lines out with her contacts and wait until Wellspring showed her face again outside the Wall... then, well, then she and Spiked Heels would have a talk. With sharp objects.

As for Knobs...

“I think Knobs doesn’t know Skinner sold her out,” said Bruise with a shrug, “She’s always been the nice one to not think bad of anypony. Skinner’s her boss, so of course she’d go check in with him.”

“Knowing we’re after her ass?” Spiked Heels asked, scoffing.

“She probably figures we’ll just let it slide, since we were mostly after Wellspring and Crossfire. They’re the one’s that actually killed our ponies. Knobs was just kind of dragged along.”

“The fuck she was,” Spiked Heels hissed, “Bitch is just as guilty as the other two! Don’t matter if she pulled a trigger or not, she was there, helping those bitches! She’s a complete moron if she thinks I’m letting her get away with screwing with my gang. Her hide is mine! You say she went to Skinner’s?”

“Yeah...” Bruise trailed off, then looked Spiked Heels square in the eyes, “Look boss, I’ve done good work for you, right?”

“Sure you have. Picked you up as a freakin’ kid and you done good since,” Spiked Heels said, giving Bruise a solid pat on the chest, “Biggest bitch in the Hammer Crushers, near on eight years now.”

“So can I ask a favor? Can we leave Knobs outta this, just this one time? She ain’t a threat or nothing. She’s harmless.”

“The fuck you care?” Spiked Heels asked, lips pulled back in a sneer, “She ain’t part of the gang.”

“No, but we go back, me and Knobs. If it don’t need to happen then I don’t want her being hurt,” Bruise said with a look on her face Spiked Heels couldn’t remember ever seeing on the huge hulk of a mare. In most the years she’d been running with the Hammer Crushers Bruise had been as hard a mare as Spiked Heels could want on her crew. Brutal, strong, loyal, about everything Spiked Heels asked for out of the Hammer Crushers. It was strange seeing the mare looking soft, especially about some Guild hoof-licker trying to worm her way into the Skull Guild.

Spiked Heels feature scrunched in a tight frown. She was tempted to just let Bruise have her way and call it good... but no, she ran her gang loose as it was and she had one ironclad rule she never broke; somepony fucks with her gang, they die. Long as ponies played it cool with her and didn’t cause trouble Spiked Heels considered herself a reasonable pony. The second blood got involved through, there was no stopping until any and all who wronged her and her gang were in the dirt.

“Bruise,” Spiked Heels approached the mare, and despite how much bigger Bruise was Spiked Heels managed to put all the menace in her gait needed to get her point across as she stood on her hind legs, put her hooves around Bruise’s head, and went snout to snout with her, “Listen, and listen close. Your friend fucked with the gang. You know what that means. You know what I do to anypony who fucks with the Hammer Crushers. We get soft? We get weak? We make exceptions? We. Fucking. Die. We got gangs biting and nipping at our territory, hearing we lost a bunch of ponies. They hear we’re going soft on top of that, they’ll eat us alive. That’s not happening. Not long as I’m in charge. Today, right now, we’re going to pick up this Knobs mare, and we’re taking care of her. You don’t got to be a part of it, I won’t do that to you, but its happening. So take the day off, go get some sleep, drink yourself unconscious if you got to... but this Knobs mare is dead by nightfall. Period.”

Spiked Heels let go of Bruise and took a step back, and in her stance, the tense lift of her wings, and the hard question on her face it was clear she was asking if Bruise was planning on making an issue of this, and if she was it was going to get violent right then and there. Bruise looked Spiked Heels in the eyes, and let out a long sigh as she glanced away.

“Had to ask. And if it’s all the same to you boss, I’ll do it myself. I owe it to Knobs to do this myself. Can I at least make it quick? She’s a kind mare, never meant any harm to anypony. Least I can do is snap her neck fast and leave it done. Can you give me that much?”

Spiked Heels narrowed her eyes slightly, “You can do it your way, but I’ll be coming to see it done proper. Me and a few of the gang. Not a problem, right?”

Bruise’s eyes flickered with a tension Spiked Heels saw clearly, through it was there for only a moment as Bruise said, “No, boss.”

“Good. I’ll go get a crew together and we’ll be moving in five minutes.”

----------

Bruise knew she was failing to hide how on edge she was. Again and again she questioned why she was doing this. Why was she leading the boss of her gang and three others that Spiked Heels had hoof picked to come along into a trap that would mean either their deaths or hers? Why was she about to betray eight years of loyalty to the Hammer Crushers?

She thought of what had happened down in the sewers, of how Knobs hadn’t hesitated to stand beside Bruise to face that terrible monster. Bruise’s mind went further back, ran through her memories of Knobs from their younger days as foals, barely surviving on the streets. Always was Knobs smiling in those memories, an impossible ray of sunshine in a world of mud, blood, and unending struggle to just stay alive.

I’m doing this to keep that crazy mare alive. I’m not turning on my gang, I’m just... taking care of the one pony I know won’t ever stop until Knobs is dead.

Bruise didn’t hate Spiked Heels. Most the time Spiked Heels was a hard but fair boss. Bruise wasn’t fond of the way the pegasus used that Soarin’ drug on newer recruits, but that was part of why the gang was as large as it was and could keep a firm control on its territory. But fact was Spiked Heels had a vindictive streak more vicious than a hungry pack of feral ghouls. As long as Spiked Heels was alive she’d seek to kill Knobs, one way or another.

It had to be this way. Bruise was just pissed she hadn’t been good enough a liar to keep Spiked Heels at ease. There was no doubt in Bruise’s mind that Spiked Heels had brought along the four other gangers in their little procession because she wanted insurance against Bruise pulling anything. Bruise knew all the other gangers in the group well, though to call them ‘friends’ would’ve been a stretch. Spiked Heels had picked ponies who wouldn’t have any reason to hesitate to kill Bruise, and they were all well armed. Hammers, big sledgehammers or smaller carpenters versions were present, but the gangers carried an assortment of shotguns and rifles, including one particularly nasty looking drum fed weapon that was built to shoot railroad spikes. That one was carried by Spiked Heels herself, her personal weapon. Anguish, she named it. Bruise didn’t get why one would bother naming a weapon, but she’d seen the gang boss using the spike thrower... and at least the name fit. It didn’t kill ponies so much as put them in indescribable amounts of pain; Spiked Heels’ favorite kind.

Crossfire, you’d better know what you’re doing, Bruise thought bitterly as the procession reached the edge of the Outskirts where Skinner’s home was.

Before Bruise crossed the dirty street towards the old convenience store Spiked Heels raised a hoof to hold her back. Spiked Heels gave Bruise a steely look, then turned to the other gangers.

“Cracked Smile, Liquorice, find spots to snipe from and cover us, in case there’s any surprises waiting.”

Two of the gangers, both armed with rifles, nodded and trotted off towards nearby ruined buildings to climb up to find good vantage points. Spiked Heels looked back at Bruise, “After you.”

Bruise grimaced and walked on. Spiked Heels, she noted, brought up the rear of the group, the remaining gangers between her and Bruise. Her steps seemed to echo hollow on the asphalt covered in cracks and dirt, too loud to her own ears. A dry, hot wind swept across the street, billowing dancing dust devils in the parking lot in front of the convenience store.

At the door Bruise raised a hoof to push it open. As she did so she heard the clicking of the ganger’s behind her unslinging their weapons, racking shells. Bruise paused for just a moment. She couldn’t help it. This part of the plan required she trust Crossfire, and that was something she had in very short supply towards the Protectorate mare. It was far too late to back out, however. For Knobs she had to see this through.

The door opened and Bruise went inside. She moved through the living room, which was empty, and got about halfway before the ponies behind her noticed how empty the place looked as well.

“Well, where they at, Bruise?” asked one of the gangers, a black unicorn mare with a neon green mane levitating around her shotgun with suspicious eyes.

Bruise had moved so that she was beside one of the ragged, patchwork couches, not far from a side door leading further into the building. The gangers, Spiked Heels included, turned their weapons towards Bruise. But before any of them could speak Bruise burst into movement, bucking the couch with all of her not inconsiderable strength. Shotguns roared and blasted parts of the couch to pieces as Bruise broke into a gallop for the side door. There was an airy buzz of noise, like the sound of a large fly, and Bruise grunted in pain as agony exploded in her left hind leg. Still she ran on, only glancing back once to see the gangers getting around the couch, and Spiked Heels still aiming her spike thrower at Bruise. Three spikes were protruding from Bruise’s leg, the rusted, barbed metal digging into Bruise’s flesh and making each stride of her galop feel like lances of fire were ripping through her.

Still she ran, going through the door without bothering to pause and open it. Beyond was a small kitchen that Bruise rushed through towards yet another door that she smashed through. This door led to the back parking lot of the convenience store turned home, and she heard the sound of pounding hooves as her now former gang gave chase... only by now they might have seen what Bruise had ignored as she ran through the kitchen; all the bushels of tied up grenades that had been set up around the kitchen, whose pins had been tied to trip wires that Bruise had consequently triggered as she ran through.

As Bruise threw herself outside, she heard the gasp of fear from the gangers behind her just a second before the back half of Skinner’s home erupted in a fast cacophony of explosions. Bruise tucked her shoulder and rolled, biting back a scream of pain from her leg. As she hobbled to her hooves she looked at the convenience store. The back half where the kitchen's’ back door used to be was now a smoking, burning ruin, half the wall collapsed. There was a torn, bloody piece of meat that might’ve been a hoof laying on the concrete nearby. Bruise felt a small stab of guilt, but knew it was her or them now. Them or Knobs. To Bruise’s continued surprise, that thought alone was enough to get her moving. She couldn't’ assume she got more than one or two of them with that, and hopefully Crossfire was doing her thing by now...

… Bruise only got a few paces before a burst of railroad spikes flew out of the gloom and smoke of the ruined convenience store and stabbed into her chest, staggering the giant purple mare with new agony.

Spiked Heels walked out of the ruin of the store, face a snarling visage of rage, eyes glittering with the promise of a slow, painful death as she leveled Anguish’s rusted, wide barrel at Bruise.

“Bruise... consider yourself officially out of the gang.”

Bruise, having a hard time breathing past the pain of the spikes that’d stabbed into her chest, just growled angrily, and charged.

----------

Pressed up tightly against the cold concrete of a fallen wall, her form partially concealed by a rotted out, old crate, Crossfire had watched carefully to mark where the gangers with rifles had taken up sniping positions while Bruise had led the others into Skinner’s home. The old ghoul was currently tucked away in a rusted barrel down the street, after Crossfire and Bruise had paid the ghoul wrangler a surprise visit and a heart to heart talk concerning the importance of valuing one’s apprentice; especially if said apprentice happened to be Knobs. Most of the actual talking had been done by Skinner in the form of cursing and screaming, whereas Crossfire and Bruise were both mares who communicated better with punches.

With Skinner out of the way it’d been easy enough to rig his home to be a trap and work out a simple enough plan to lure Spiked Heels there. As Bruise had warned Crossfire the gang boss had brought some of her gang along. When Bruise led three of the gang, including Spiked Heels, inside Skinner’s home Crossfire slowly levitated her rifle up, trying to pick out one of the other gangers who’d taken cover in the buildings across the street.

When she heard gunfire inside the convenience store, soon followed by the explosion of frag grenades she’d rigged in the kitchen, Crossfire looked for a target of her own. She wanted the snipers dealt with fast, because if any of the gangers inside Skinner’s place survived she didn’t want to get caught between them and the snipers.

“Shit,” Crossfire swore quietly, seeing that the gangers weren’t stupid and had actually found good positions among the half destroyed buildings. She didn’t have a clear shot at either sniper. But that was what the Sniper Shark XR’s alternate rounds were for, and thanks to Nightbane she had plenty of those to work with. Taking out her clip of normal rounds she slipped out a few rounds from the clip and then loaded three special rounds; two explosive, one smoke.

Snapping the clip back in Crossfire rose and fired in the same motion, three quick shots. The two explosive rounds detonated near where she knew the snipers had taken cover. It wouldn’t likely do more than spray concrete chips on them, but it’d startle them and get their attention. The third round Crossfire arced up over the street, releasing a cloud of smoke between her and the snipers. That done she bolted from cover and galloped for the buildings as the cloak of white smoke descended over her to conceal her location. Gunfire rang out anyway, bullets buzzing through the smoke, most of them not even coming close.

Crossfire heard the sounds of a struggle from the other side of the convenience store, two marks roaring and yelling at each other. Bruise was alive, and apparently so was at least one other ganger. Probably Spiked Heels. Crossfire grit her teeth. She needed to finish the snipers fast and get over there. She’d hoped Spiked Heels at least would’ve been taken out by the grenades! She just hoped Bruise could hold her own for a minute or two.

Through the smoke she reached the bottom of the buildings the snipers were hiding in, the bottom floor no more than a bare, debris strewn mess. She rushed through, heading for partially destroyed stairs she had to vault to get up. There was no time to be silent about this. She ducked low, instinctively, and that saved her head from being popped like a messy red zit as one of the snipers, hearing her rushing the stairs, turned and fired rapidly with an automatic rifle.

Bullets destroyed plaster and stone above Crossfire’s ducking head and she turned the corner sharply to face the sniper, a brown unicorn mare with a stringy pink mane. The mare’s rifle was held in a tight yellow aura and her rapid shots had forced the barrel to climb upwards. As she saw Crossfire had avoided her burst, the mare’s eyes widened and she backed up a step, lowering the rifle to get a better shot but she needed a second to adjust for the recoil.

Crossfire didn’t give the ganger mare that second.

Putting her mind into that cold, practical place her military training had given her, Crossfire breathed calmly as she aimed and fired. Her bullet tore a bloody hole into the brown mare’s chest and the ganger let out a ragged scream as she was forced back against the wall, falling to the ground. Though the pony was down Crossfire aimed and put two more rounds into the fallen mare’s chest to make sure she stayed down.

Any guilt Crossfire might have felt she buried deep under the knowledge these ponies wouldn’t have done any different to her, or Knobs if they could get their hooves on her.

The floor of this second story was partially missing, but there was a narrow band of it still intact that led to an open doorway to where Crossfire knew the second sniper was. Looking that way she caught sight of something being tossed through, a familiar apple-shaped grenade. Crossfire threw herself over the rail of the stairs, landing hard on the wood steps and sliding down to the open gap as the grenade went off. Her body was hit with a few chips of debris, but she avoided getting anything worse than a few splinters and light cuts.

“Yeah, you like that, bitch!?” shouted a male voice from above, and Crossfire saw another object bouncing around the stairs, “Here’s another!”

Crossfire spat dust out of her mouth as she scrambled to her hooves, jumping the gap in the stairs and throwing herself through an opening that at one time might’ve housed a window. Another explosion followed, a piece of shrapnel cutting her flank as she rolled away from the building. As she came to her hooves she quickly switched her clip for one loaded with armor piercing rounds. She heard the ganger still shouting obscenities at her and suggested various things he intended to do to her corpse that Crossfire suspected wouldn’t be sanitary. Vivid imagery through; the guy had a talent for colorful language.

Too bad he didn’t realize his shouting was marking his position behind the concrete wall on the second floor.

Crossfire fired off four or five shots in quick succession, the armor piercing round tearing through the wall with minimal effort and tearing through the ganger with equal ease if the sudden scream and gurgle Crossfire heard was any indication. Crossfire wanted to go double check to make sure he was dead, but a coughing from behind her made Crossfire spin around.

A ganger pony, another mare, this one a black unicorn with a green mane, was stumbling from Skinner’s front door. Crossfire raised her rifle to fire, but right as she pulled the trigger the ganger mare stumbled, causing Crossfire’s round to zip above her target’s head. The mare, feeling the bullet pass by, quickly reoriented herself, blinking at Crossfire and creating with the immediate, honed combat instincts of a pony who’d grown up in the violence of the Outskirts. Crossfire had to go galloping for cover as the ganger fired her shotgun over and over again, while also rushing for cover.

Feeling buckshot tug at the air around her, pellets painfully striking her jacket from near misses, Crossfire dove behind the brown metal hulk of an old autowagon, while the ganger mare rolled behind a thick metal post that might have once been a street lamp.

For a few moments the two mares exchanged gunfire while trying to keep themselves behind their respective cover, but soon enough Crossfire got an idea and turned around, facing the autowagon. She concentrated with her horn, red light engulfing it, then gaining an intense overlay as she wrapped the ruined autowagon with her magic. It was too heavy for her to lift, but she found she could push it. Grinning, Crossfire pushed the autowagon forward towards the ganger mare’s street lamp, poking her rifle through the ruined windows of the cabin. The ganger mare let out an emphatic curse of “Fuck!” as she saw the autowagon drawing closer and kept blasting away in a vain attempt to get through somewhere and hit Crossfire, but buckshot didn’t do so well against metal, even old, rusted metal.

Soon enough Crossfire was close to the ganger’s cover, and the gang pony got desperate. Roaring in equal parts rage and fear the ganger rushed the autowagon, leaping atop the hood before Crossfire could draw a proper bead on her. Crossfire had to dive at the mare, inside the ganger’s arc of fire, to avoid the next shotgun blast. Crossfire and the other black unicorn tumbled off the autowagon in a tangle of thrashing hooves.

The gang mare viciously bit into Crossfire’s collarbone, and savagely beat at her head with a leather clad hoof. Crossfire pushed past the pain and focused, wrapping her own hooves around the flailing ganger mare, rolling so Crossfire had her below her on the ground. Seeing the other unicorn levitating her shotgun towards Crossfire’s face she quickly slashed with her rifle to knock the shotgun away, then swung the rifle around, bayonet aimed downward.

The gang mare saw the bayonet and in terrified desperation thrashed and punched, trying to dislodge Crossfire, or hit Crossfire’s horn. Crossfire took the hits with grit teeth, and plunged her rifle’s bayonet straight down into the gang mare’s throat. The blade went straight through and crunched past the ganger’s neckbone. The ganger spasmed, and blood splashed across Crossfire’s face, but in a few seconds the gang mare lay still, eyes turning glassy in death.

Breathing hard, and shaking terribly, Crossfire rolled off the body and took a second to pull her rifle free. Adrenaline was still surging through her, and she had no time to catch her breath as from around the corner of Skinner’s home she saw two ponies rolling, locked in a fight just as desperate and fierce as the one she’d just finished.

Bruise and Spiked Heels exchanged blows with such a fury and speed it was hard to tell where one mare began and the other ended. Bruise had every advantage of size, strength, and reach, but Spiked Heels was more experienced and twice as viscous. Spiked Heels carried a weapon that to Crossfire looked like somepony had taken parts of a combat shotgun, welded on a wider barrel and huge ammo drum, and then covered it in reinforced metal backing and spikes. She cracked Bruise across the face with that gun, forcing the big mare to stumble back, and then Crossfire saw just how badly wounded Bruise was.

Bruise was sporting almost a score of dark, rusty spikes buried into her at various spots along her sides, chest, and legs. Even as Crossfire started to take aim with her rifle she saw Spiked Heel’s fire another spike from her strange weapon into Bruise’s right foreleg, causing her to cry out in pain and that leg to crumple under her. Before Spiked Heels could put another such spike into Bruise’s head Crossfire opened fire.

Whether it was some kind of highly honed combat intuition or pure luck Crossfire didn’t know, but Spiked Heels seemed to know the attack was coming and spread her wings, shooting up into the air to avoid the shots.

Wheeling about in the air, Spiked Heels saw Crossfire, and laughed with raw maliciousness.

“There you are! Was just about getting tired of fucking up Bruise!”

Crossfire fired again, working the bolt on her rifle as fast as she could to try and knock the pegasus out of the sky, but Spiked Heels went into a series of evasive spins that made it hard to track her, laughing all the while.

“I’m mounting both your heads at my front gate so ponies know for a long time not to fuck with me and mine!”

Crossfire had been shuffling back towards the autowagon for some cover, but was too slow. Spiked Heels fired, even while evading in mid-air, and Crossfire gasped as a railroad spike blasted into her right hindleg. The barbed spike drove a hellish wash of agony through Crossfire, knocking her over. She forced herself to keep moving, hobbling into cover, but the pain was pure fire with every movement. Seeing Bruise still getting to her hooves, despite having so many of those spiked in her, Crossfire was amazed at Bruise’s determination and endurance. But fear also gripped Crossfire, seeing Bruise. The mare was covered in blood, breathing in huge, heaving gasps, with bubbling red foam at her lips and nose.

Bruise was a mare at death’s gate. Adrenaline and willpower alone was keeping her going.

“Spiiiiiiiiked!” Bruise roared, and ignoring her wounds, galloped over to the dead ganger that Crossfire had just killed moments before. At first Crossfire thought the mare was going for the ganger’s shotgun, but to Crossfire’s shock Bruise reached over, picked up the body, and in the same motion turned and hurled the body into the air.

While Crossfire had been having trouble tagging Spiked Heels, Bruise either lucked out or had some kind of fury born accuracy working for her, as the body sailed through the air like a macabre missile and clipped one of Spiked Heels’ wings. With an enraged cry Spiked Heels was sent tumbling downward, hitting the street hard. She rolled to her hooves, both wings badly bent from the fall, but she still had her rail spike thrower clenched in her mouth.

Bruise, having apparently expended the last vestiges of her strength in throwing the body, teetered on her hooves, eyes blinking and losing focus.

“Bruise!” Crossfire shouted, seeing that Bruise was out in the open.

Spiked Heels snarled and aimed at Bruise. Crossfire’s horn blazed red just as the gang boss fired, and she grabbed the railspike thrower with her magic, yanking it with a quick telekinetic pull. The spikes went wide, though Spiked Heels kept a tight grip on her weapon, preventing Crossfire from disarming the pegasus. Even though the shots missed, Bruise collapsed from the wounds she’d already sustained as Crossfire focused her attention on Spiked Heels. There was no time to get into cover herself, not without leaving Bruise out to be finished off. This had to end now!

Eyes narrowing, scuffing the ground with her hoof, Crossfire turned all her attention to Spiked Heels, who in turn met Crossfire’s eyes with a hate filled glare. For a second the two mare’s stared at each other, as if by look alone they could kill one another. Then at the same time both Crossfire and Spiked Heels galloped towards each other. Railway spikes flew from Spiked Heels’ weapon. Armor piercing rounds fired away from Crossfire’s rifle. The spikes tore at Crossfire’s hide, one burying itself in her shoulder, another in her flank. Her bullets ripped through one of Spiked Heels’ legs, another took off an ear. Both mares kept charging one another, ignoring injury and pain.

The last few paces the two blood covered mares threw themselves at each other, Spiked Heels raising her forehooves with their spiked horseshoes to try and crunch Crossfire’s skull while Crossfire stabbed with her bayonet towards the gang boss’ chest. Both slammed into one another at odd angles as they tried to avoid the other’s blow. Crossfire took a spiked horseshow across the jaw, tearing her lip. Spiked Heels was gashed deeply across the chest, but the blade skipped off a rib and didn’t go fatally deep.

Crashing into each other both mares rolled on the ground. Spiked Heels drove a horseshoe into Crossfire’s gut, blasting the air from Crossfire’s lungs. Crossfire punched Spiked Heels hard across the face, sending the railspike gun flying away. With a backhoof swing Spiked Heels drove an elbow into Crossfire’s chest, stealing even more breath as Crossfire started to black out. Shaking off the feeling Crossfire rammed her forehead into Spiked Heels’ chest, her horn piercing leather armor and causing blood to run down her brow.

Even impaled by a horn Spiked Heels kept fighting, rolling Crossfire onto her back and pulling the horn free, raising herself up and raining blow after blow down on Crossfire, shouting all the while.

“Stupid Protectorate bitch! Killing all my little ponies! Fucking with my life! What the fuck gave any of you Protectorate bitches the right to fuck with us!? Ain’t selling you to the Labor Guild no more, gonna keep you myself. Let any bastard with a sick bent and caps to throw me have a go at you until there’s nothing left of you but a mewling bitch begging to die!”

Crossfire was rocked left and right by the unrelenting blows, despite trying to keep her forehooves up to block. Her head swam with pain and fuzziness, and she was close to passing out entirely. But Spiked Heels said something else, something that wiped away the pain and brought everything back to sharp focus.

“And that little cunt Knobs, when I find her, is going to join you as a screaming fuck toy.”

Boiling anger pushed Crossfire away from the edge of unconsciousness and a surge of magic poured into her horn. She’d dropped her rifle moments earlier, but she saw it now, clearly, and despite Spiked Heels smashing her hooves onto Crossfire’s horn as to try and stop the magic Crossfire levitated the rifle up and like a spear the rifle flew, bayonet first, straight into Spiked Heels’ back. The thick blade burst through Spiked Heels chest, drenching Crossfire in blood as the gang boss blinked stupidly down at Crossfire.

“Nopony is ever going to hurt Knobs,” Crossfire growled, “Not while I’m alive.”

With a hard yank of her magic she twisted the blade, then ripped the bayonet out of Spiked Heels chest sideways, tearing open the pegasus’ chest in a shower of gore. Spiked Heels let out one last, whimpering gurgle, one hoof pawing at the gaping wound, disbelief on her face, before she went limp. Crossfire shoved the corpse off of her before standing, breathing heavily.

Pain now impossible to ignore, Crossfire could only barely stand, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes to try and bear the hot, searing anguish wracking her body. But she couldn’t stop moving. She had to get to Bruise. With pained steps making every meter walked a trial Crossfire went over to where Bruise had fallen.

Her chest rising and falling in large but slow breaths, Bruise looked ten times worse than Crossfire felt. The spikes from Spiked Heels weapon were like a small forest sprouting from Bruise’s hide, and the dirt strewn street beneath her was marred by a pool of blood. Bruise, eyes barely focused, turned towards Crossfire.

“Got her...?” Bruse asked, voice weak, ragged, and barely above a whisper.

Crossfire, seeing the stark, painful truth in front of her as she looked Bruise over, hung her head and nodded, unable to do more than say, “Yeah, I got her...”

Bruise laughed, or tried to. It came out more as a small rasp.

“Good,” Bruise said, “That’s good.”

Crossfire, not knowing what else to do, sat down next to Bruise, “I...” Crossfire tried to think. It was hard to get clear thoughts, the pain demanding so much attention, “I think I could find some healing potions in Skinner’s place.”

“Not enough for... for how fucked up I am. Better for yourself. Get back to Knobs alive, before rest of the gang figures out what happened.”

Bruise forced a hoof up and wrapped it around Crossfire’s, Bruise’s eyes gaining just a brief luster of focus, “Knobs! Take care of...”

Her strength fled before she could finish, but Crossfire gripped the other mare’s hoof tightly, saying "I will! I’ll take care of her. I swear it. No matter what. Always.”

She didn’t know if Bruise heard her or not. Crossfire wanted to believe so, but she’d never know for sure, because it was at that moment that Bruise died, her entire body going still after a final, labored breath.

----------

Skinner had heard the gunfire and explosions from his cramped, uncomfortable position tucked inside a barrel, his forelegs still tightly bound with rope and his mouth gagged. He’d run through a few ideas on using his magic to escape, but aside from the spells related to his work with feral ghouls he had nothing to actually get him out of a barrel. He could turn it over, but all that’d do was shaking him around a bit, not free him of his bindings.

So the ghoul could only stew over his situation, trying to ignore the painful bruises all over his body from the beating those two mares had given him. After a time the gunfire stopped and he could only pray Crossfire and that other, huge gang mare, had gotten killed. He had a sinking feeling that wasn’t the case.

His suspicion was at least partially confirmed when he heard hooves outside the barrel, and he was subsequently dumped over and yanked out. He saw the black unicorn standing over him, her face a terrifying visage of anger that promised painful death if he did anything she didn’t like. She was clearly wounded, bandaged up all over with what he suspected was magical healing bandages from his own supply. Nearby was the other mare, the big purple ganger, but one look told Skinner she was dead as a plank of wood. Too bad, Skinner kind of liked the big ones. Crossfire frowned, smacking Skinner across the face to get his attention back on her.

“Listening?” she asked, and Skinner nodded, once.

“Good. Here’s the situation. The Hammer Crusher’s boss is dead, and her body is right outside your doorstep. Now I don’t know much about gang politics, but I get the impression they won’t really care to hear your side of the story as to why she’s dead in your front lawn. Even if you could tell them it was me that killed her, they’d probably string you up anyway. Now, I’m not horribly inclined to do anything more with you than cut your legs off, the same ones Knobs lost because of your betrayal, and leave you to the Hammer Crusher’s good graces... but...”

She leaned over him, yellow gold eyes glittering like the wrathful sun, “Knobs is fond of you, and she probably wouldn’t want you to die a horrible, painful death like you deserve. So here’s the deal. I’m taking you back to the Inner City, on the condition that you take Knobs back as an apprentice, and make sure she makes it into the Skull Guild. If you try to betray us again, if you so much as think of trying any shit to go against me, or hurt her... they’ll be finding pieces of your body for years to come.”

She removed his gag and looked at him expectantly. Skinner licked his dry lips, glaring up at the mare, but he didn’t spit out any threats or curses. She could just as easily decide to kill him, and Skinner knew it. And with Spiked Heels dead the Hammer Crushers might rage briefly, but more importantly they’d be so disorganized that the other gangs would move in on their territory fast. It’d be a bloody gang war in this side of the Outskirts. He didn’t think Crossfire really understood what she’d unleashed, causing a power vacuum in the gangs, but he had no trouble getting his own hide out of the area for awhile, and if the price of continuing to live was taking his apprentice back on and smoothing out her initiation to the Skull Guld, Skinner could accept that.

“Sounds like a deal to me,” he said, coughing, “After this, we’re square?”

“Almost...” Crossfire said, and with a flicker of magic her rifle swung around, the butt of it cracking between Skinner’s hind legs, causing the ghoul to howl.

“Now we’re square.”

----------

A lead like weight pulled at her heart as Crossfire stood outside the door to the room Knobs was in. She could hear Knobs talking with another pony, Wellspring from the sound of it, though the door muffled the words into indistinct murmurs. Crossfire had managed to maintain a focused composure up until reaching this point. The pain still fresh in her recently bandaged wounds was nothing compared to the growing chasm of fear inside her.

She had to tell Knobs what had happened, but Crossfire wanted to be anywhere other than in that position at that moment. A part of her wanted to angrily blame Bruise for getting killed, but she knew ultimately the fault lay at her own hooves. Going after Skinner and Spiked Heels had been Crossfire’s plan, and she’d involved Bruise. Now Bruise was dead and she had to tell Knobs.

“Its not going to get easier the longer you wait,” Afterglow said, the doctor looking at Crossfire from down the hall. Afterglow and some of her employees had taken care of Bruise’s body for the time being, putting it in a morgue until they were ready to bury her. Afterglow’s eyes stared at Crossfire, not harsh, nor particularly sympathetic. Just truthful. Crossfire took a deep breath, hating every second of this, and hating that Afterglow was right. This wasn’t going to be made easier just by putting it off.

Closing her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart, Crossfire opened the door and stepped in.

“Crossfire!” Knobs cried out almost immediately upon seeing her, Knobs face turning quickly concerned, “You’re injured again!? What happened? Are you alright?”

Wellspring, standing by Knobs’ bed, gave Crossfire a curious look, her eyes glancing over the bandaged wounds on Crossfire’s body. Wellspring’s expression turned to a schooled neutrality as she said, “I saw your fight with Nightbane. You were not badly injured in that fight.”

Crossfire walked over to the front of the bed, not able to quite meet Knbos’ worried eyes as she said, “No, I wasn’t hurt bad in that scuffle. Part of the Drifter’s Guild now, I guess. Still need to settle the details on that. But... uh... there was something else I needed to do and...”

The words just got snarled up in her head as she tried to figure out what to say. Everything she thought off just went fuzzy and tangled, unable to get past her lips, and she couldn’t look at either Knobs or Wellspring. The silence didn’t last long as Knobs asked the question that made Crossfire’s heart constrict with ice.

“Crossfire... where’s Bruise? I saw her this morning and she said she was going to go talk with you.”

She felt paralyzed. It was suddenly rather hard to breathe, but she forced herself to. Crossfire, with painful slowness, forced herself to look up at Knobs, meeting the other mare’s green-eyed gaze. There must have been a world of truth splayed across Crossfire’s face, because the moment she met Knobs’ eyes Knobs’ mouth opened slowly, the blood draining from her face.

“No...” Knobs whispered, shaking her head, “No, no, no, what happened? Crossfire? What happened!?”

Knobs hooves were reached forward, trying to touch Crossfire’s shoulder, but Wellspring put her own hoof up and held Knobs. Wellspring said nothing, but her own look was questioning, and filled with reserved worry. Crossfire backed up a step at the pain swimming into Knobs’ eyes, Knobs clearly already knowing what was coming.

“I... I’m...” Crossfire was shaking her head, “I’m sorry. She... I... we both wanted to make sure you’d be safe!”

“Safe? Safe how?” Wellspring asked, still holding Knobs as Knobs started to breath faster, as if starting to panic.

“Where’s Bruise!? This is just a joke, right? She’s getting me back for pranking her before. Ha ha! Funny! You can come out now Bruise, you got me!”

“Knobs...” Crossfire said, feeling a lump form in her throat that was hard to talk past.

“No!” Knobs shouted, “You’re not telling me this! You’re not telling me she’s dead! Why!? How!? After all we went through yesterday!? She can’t die! She’s Bruise! She’s stronger, tougher, and bigger than anypony I know! What...happened?”

Crossfire felt pain as she ground her teeth and met Knobs desperate, tear streaked eyes, feeling as if the world was opening up beneath her, ready to swallow her whole. But she found she could speak, though every word felt like spitting rocks.

“I went after Spiked Heels. I needed her dead, so she wouldn’t come after you. I also went after Skinner, to get back at him for selling us out. Bruise, when she confronted me about my plan, agreed to help. To protect you.”

“Protect me? Why? We’re in the Inner City! We’re safe here!” Knobs said, voice nearly cracking.

“Not necessarily,” Wellspring said, her tone gentle, “I had intended to bring this up when I met with you next, Crossfire, but I had fears Spiked Heels might send ponies after you and Knobs, as well as myself. She has contacts in the Inner City, and could afford hit ponies, or to smuggle her own gang inside to target us.”

“Not anymore,” said Crossfire.

“I don’t care about that!” shouted Knobs, shaking, “What happened to Bruise!?”

“She led Spiked Heels and a few of her gang to Skinner’s place, where we set up a trap. The plan had been to take Spiked Heels alone, but she brought enough help to... complicate things. There was a fight. Spiked Heels is dead, but... she wounded Bruise badly before the fight ended. I’m sorry Knobs, I am, but she didn’t make it. If there’d been anything I could have done I would have.”

Knobs now had tears freely falling from her eyes, her shoulders shaking, “I don’t understand. Why did you do it? Even if the gang came after us, we could’ve survived it... together. All of us together. But you thought it was smart to run off by yourself to fight a whole gang. Bruise... she went with you... oh Goddesses... no...”

The sobs came in full then, a choking, repeated cry of pain as Knobs buried her face in the nearest available surface, that being Wellspring’s shoulders. Wellspring just helplessly patted Knobs, though she gave Crossfire a look with sympathetic eyes. Knobs kept sobbing, Crossfire remaining silent, unable to image feeling worse than she did at that moment. If Knobs decided to shoot her then and there Crossfire probably wouldn’t have even resisted, let alone blamed her.

“... my fault...”

The words came out between sobs but they cut right through Crossfire’s mire of self pity and made the unicorn blink in surprise at Knobs.

“What?”

Knobs pulled away from Wellspring, “This is my fault. It’s all my fault!”

Crossfire looked at Wellspring, who just appeared as confused as Crossfire felt. She stepped closer to the bed, holding out a hoof hesitant to hold Knobs’ arm.

“Knobs, no,” Crossfire said emphatically, “I’m the one that dragged Bruise out there. I went after Spiked Heels. I hate it, I hate myself for this, but I’m the one whose shoulders this falls on, not you!”

“You were trying to protect me,” Knobs said, wiping at her face, “Both you and Bruise were trying to keep me safe. I even made Bruise make a promise to me that she’d make up with you and not let anything bad happen to you!”

Knobs could not have appeared more miserable, her ears flat against her head, her entire mane seeming to lose luster, her voice a shuddering pain-filled mess, “I... I thought you might do something crazy. Bruise, she just wanted to stay by me today, and keep an eye on me, but I was worried about you, Crossfire. I asked Bruise to go find you and make sure you’d be okay. I didn’t know! I didn’t know! I thought she... both of you... would be okay.”

“Knobs, you mustn’t blame yourself for this,” Wellspring said, hugging Knobs tightly, “There should be no blame. I firmly believe that Crossfire and Bruise both did what they thought was right, to protect all of us. There is no way they could have foreseen how it would turn out, and in the end Bruise has given her life so that we need not fear Spiked Heels’ retribution.”

Knobs abruptly pulled Crossfire into the hug as well, as if by holding both Crossfire and Wellspring as tightly as she could she could somehow dispel the events of the day like some terrible illusion.

“I’m sorry Knobs...” Crossfire said, with the sinking feeling she’d be saying those words for the rest of her life, and mean them, every time, “I’m so sorry.”

Knobs said nothing, tear stained muzzle buried in Crossfire’s mane, and for long minutes all three mares shared that silent embrace, letting their own individual emotions play out. Crossfire, eventually, managed to step away from the bed, and looked at Knobs’ with a guilt twisted visage.

“Knobs, I... I have something else I need to tell you, and I know this doesn’t make up for anything, but you should know; I didn’t kill Skinner. I just got him to agree to take you back on as an apprentice.”

At Knobs continued silence Crossfire swallowed, mouth dry, and said, “That doesn’t... shit, I know that doesn’t make up for Bruise, but its something. I... I’ll go now.”

She started to remove the red jacket Knobs had given her with her magic, red aura wrapping around the garment and pulling it off one leg, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better friend-”

Abruptly Crossfire felt new magic touch hers, Knobs green aura mixing with Crossfire’s red aura as Knobs used her own magic to put the jacket firmly back on Crossfire. Crossfire looked at Knobs with a question in her eyes, and Knobs’ own expression was still filled with pain and sadness, but there was the smallest hints of her old smile still there.

“Crossfire, I don’t want you to go anywhere. I want you to stay. And... and please, help me say goodbye to Bruise.”

Wellspring, standing off to the side, nodded firmly in approval, the same sentiments shining in her eyes.

Crossfire looked at the jacket she wore, running one hoof over the sleeve with the same genuine affection she showed her own rifle. She looked at Knobs, blinking back her own tears, tears she so rarely shed, and would rarely ever shed, and nodded.

----------

The graveyard was one of dozens that ringed the Outskirts of Skull City. Bruise could have been buried in any number of Inner City plots, but Knobs had insisted upon Bruise being buried in the same graveyard that her parents were buried in. Knobs said she wanted to make sure her family stayed close. She actually didn’t know which markers were her parent’s, they had died so long ago, but she knew it was the graveyard built along the south road, on a ridge facing the eastern mountains.

There was no gravekeeper, no ponies who operated or maintained the graveyard besides the occasional citizen of the Outskirts. It had hundreds of graves, many little more than unmarked plots of churned earth, while others sported mixtures of gravestones or other markers made from whatever scrap and debris could be found. A chilly wind blew over the companions as they brought Bruise’s body out to the graveyard. Crossfire carried the body, while Wellspring carried Knobs. For reasons of his own Nightbane had joined them, the griffin personally helping dig the hole, only stating that he was, “Giving respect where it was due,” and saying no more on the matter. Crossfire didn’t know whether to be appreciative or not, but she didn’t argue Nightbane’s presence.

Crossfire still didn’t like him. He’d shown her the Drifter Guild’s headquarters briefly, mostly to show her where the job boards were and to insinuate she’d need to start taking jobs soon in order to make his ‘investment’ worth his time. Crossfire intended fully to get to work straightaway, as soon as this was done. She had a pair of cybernetic legs to purchase somepony. It was a debt that if it took her a decade or more she’d pay back and then some.

They buried Bruise towards the tip of the ridge, right beneath an old, gray tree, one of the few in the area. Crossfire and Knobs worked together to move a big concrete block over to be a headstone, and Crossfire carved in Bruise’s name with the tip of her rifle’s bayonet. The entire time Crossfire had dug the grave her thoughts had swirled into a strangely quiet state. In a way she felt as if she wasn’t just burying Bruise, but that she was burying herself. Her past self. The Protectorate soldier who’d fled her homeland in disgrace.

As the last of Bruise’s name was carved into the concrete block that would mark her final resting place, Crossfire wiped sweat from her face and turned a glance towards Skull City.

The twisted, sprawling shanty town of countless metal and wood huts and shacks, spreading over the hills like a field of rusted mushrooms, seemed to come alive with lights as the day started to turn dark with the coming evening. The lights of fires, candles, torches, and a few flickering electric or magical bulbs gave the city the look of a shimmering underworld, the lights reflecting off a haze of mist forming off the top of the huge Wall to the Inner City. Crossfire, despite her exhaustion from the day’s events, despite the heavy weight on her heart from all that had happened... felt a sense of belonging to that city. It was a horrible place, filled with struggling folk just trying to stay alive, but maybe she could make a life here.

Few words were said as the ponies and one griffin stood over the grave. Knobs had been sat down between Wellspring and Crossfire, and though she tried to say some words about Bruise it became quickly obvious she was in no condition for them, soon falling into quiet sobs as Crossfire and Wellspring both held her. Crossfire herself had no idea what she could possibly say. Nightbane drained half a bottle of what looked to be whiskey to Crossfire’s eyes, and he poured the rest out on the headstone, sharing a drink with the departed. Maybe it was a griffin thing. Wellspring said a few words, but Crossfire couldn’t recall them.

Eventually Nightbane flew off, telling Crossfire to meet him at the Guild so he could introduce her around to the evening crowd. Apparently the Guild never really slept and was pretty active at all hours of the day and night.

“We should get back to the city, just in case any of the Hammer Crushers see us, and aren’t busy fighting other gangs moving in on their territory,” said Wellspring, looking about a bit nervously. Crossfire noted the Radio Guild mare had replaced her gun with a heavier pistol and had purchased some leather armor from somewhere. The rugged armor didn’t look right on the otherwise pristine gray mare.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” said Knobs, sitting on her haunches in front of Bruise’s grave, “I just... want a few more minutes.”

“Very well, I’ll wait for you two at the gate,” said Wellspring and trotted off towards the graveyard’s exist, “Just a few minutes though. Returning through the Outskirts at night can be very dangerous.”

Crossfire and Knobs sat there, side by side, silent for a time as the light in the sky slowly trickled away, the cold wind continuing to blow over the two mares.

“Crossfire...” Knobs said, finally, “I know you might not believe this right now, but I’m glad I met you.”

Crossfire laughed without any mirth, shaking her head, “Knobs, literally nothing has gone right for you since you met me. Why in all of Equestria would you be glad to have met a cursed pony like me?”

Knobs leaned against Crossfire, causing the black unicorn to blink in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. Knobs still had a sad gleam in her eyes, but her smile, at least, was strong.

“Because you’re a good pony.”

A ghost of a smile played across Crossfire’s own lips, “If you say so.”

“I do say so. And one day, you’re gonna believe it yourself.”

Crossfire didn’t know what to believe, but for that moment, sitting there next to one of the few friends she had left in the world, Crossfire decided that she could look towards the future with a little bit of hope.

----------

Six years later...

The grave was the same as it had been when it was first dug. The two ponies in front of it were also the same, if a bit more weathered than they had been when they’d first stood in this same spot.

Crossfire polished off half a bottle of whiskey, and like she’d once seen Nightbane do, she let Bruise have the rest, pouring the whiskey over the grave marker. The cement block turned dark with the alcohol running over it, some of the drink pooling in the carved name of the mare who’d died all those years ago. Crossfire put the bottle away into the folds of her crimson jacket, the stout old piece of clothing still intact after all this time. Crossfire never spared any expense keeping the jacket well repaired. Next to her, Knobs shuffled about with the squeak of wheels filling the air.

The apparatus around Knobs’ hindquarters was crude in the way a lot of Wasteland built items were, but it was effective for what it was. Braces, with rugged wheels sprouting down from crutch-like stocks allowed the legless mare to wheel around a bit using her forehooves to propel herself. It was awkward, but it was the best Knobs had to work with. In six years, it was what Knobs was stuck working with, and the fact continued to stab at Crossfire.

Getting there. Caps have piled up nicely, last year or so, Crossfire thought bitterly, thinking of all the things she’d had to do to make those caps over the years. Since she’d finally made A-rank in the Guild she’d been able to get some of the better paying jobs, and progress had gone fast. Soon. Soon she’d fix what went wrong and Knobs could maybe live like a normal pony...

… well, as normal as a ghoul could live, anyway.

Knobs leather hide crinkled as she stretched, grinning, “Well Bruise, we’re taking off! I got my rounds to do and Crossfire’s got a job! Wish us luck Bruise! I’ll visit again soon!”

Her flesh rotted, but her teal hide still showing clear in several places, Knobs still managed to look ten times more energetic than most ponies who had all their legs and weren’t ghouls. Crossfire always hid her frown, seeing Knobs’ condition.

They hadn’t known she’d contracted ghoulification from the radiation they’d soaked up in the back of Gunner’s Heaven until months after Bruise’s death. Strangely Knobs had adapted to the change quickly and with all the vigor and good cheer she seemed to always have when dealing with life in Skull City. Knobs had finished her apprenticeship with Skinner within that very same year.

Now Knobs wore the black coat of a Skull Guild ghoul wrangler, her stringy red mane and tail contrasting sharply with the dark garment. Knobs, energetically wheeling around, bumped Crossfire with her flank.

“Hey, Crossfire, look alive! Geez, stop being so morose, you’ll depress the ghosts!”

Crossfire heaved out a sigh, “Knobs, graveyards are, by definition, depressing.”

“Nope! This is where we get to see our loved ones and show them we’re doing okay! So smile, so Bruise doesn’t have to worry about us! C’mon now, smile!”

Crossfire’s lips twitched in something that might have been a faint facsimile of a smile, which caused Knobs to groan dramatically and shake her head, “Gah, okay, stop smiling, it hurts to see it!”

A bark of a laugh escaped Crossfire then as she and Knobs turned and walked (or in Knobs’ case pulled herself along) to the graveyards exit gate, a black iron old affair with dead ivy wrapped around its open frame. Beyond on the road was Knobs’ ghoul wrangler wagon, its iron lamp hanging from its post and a modified ramp at the back allowing Knobs to wheel herself up to the driver seat, which was really more an alcove for her to set up in. A ghouled brahmin stood in front of the wagon, waiting its master’s call.

Also by the wagon were two stallions. One was a white unicorn with a short, spiked blonde mane, wearing a black scarf-mask and with leather armor covered in knives. The other was a hulking earth pony, brown with a black mane and bushy beard, a sizeable revolver holstered across his chest.

“Hey boss,” said Shard, the unicorn, “You ready to get going yet?”

“Them Labor Guild types ain’t liking to wait,” said Brickhouse, the earth pony in a gravelly tone.

Crossfire glared at both of them, “They can damned well wait as long as I want them to. They’re paying us, but they need to respect the Drifters Guild.”

“Don’t know why you visit this place every time we go out,” said Shard, shrugging as he eyed Knobs as she clambered into her wagon. Crossfire stepped between him and Knobs with a hard look on her face and Shard coughed, glancing away, “Of course I guess you can do what you want. You’re the boss.”

“That’s right,” she said, tone brooking no argument, “I’m the boss. Now let’s get going.”

“Wish you weren’t working for the Labor Guild on this one,” said Knobs as she settled into her alcove, using her magic to take up the brahmin’s reins, “They’re kinda... well, things are getting worse with them every day.”

Crossfire shrugged, “Can’t be helped. I got requested for this. Besides, the pays good, and I go where the caps are.”

For a moment a dark cloud passed over Knobs’ leathery, cracked features, her eyes still a strong green giving Crossfire a sad look, “Yeah, well, caps are good, but being alive is better. Be careful out there Crossfire. You too, boys. Keep an eye on her out there.”

“Keep an eye on Crossfire? Shit, we’re lucky if she even lets us see any action,” said Brickhouse with a guffaw, while Shard refrained from commenting.

“Its a milk run anyway,” said Crossfire, giving Knobs as reassuring a look as she could manage, “Just escorting a group of slaves down south to Saddlespring. We’ll be back in a week, tops.”

There was no need to tell Knobs anything different, at any rate. Crossfire knew the job was a lot more than just the escort. The Labor Guild had found a Ruin in Saddlespring, and wanted to make sure they got their hooves on whatever was inside it's depths. They had a whole cadre of egghead types down in the independent township already, and Crossfire and her team’s task was to protect them and ensure the research on the Ruin went smoothly. Of course they were still being paid to escort the Labor Guild’s own personnel and slaves, but that was a secondary concern to the Ruin itself.

Crossfire didn’t care about the details, as long as she got paid. She doubted anything would happen anyway. Saddlespring was a simple, peaceful town, and most Ruins close to Skull City were fairly harmless...

Most of them. Crossfire still carried memories of a monster in the darkness and an unimaginably huge tower underneath Skull City, but she’d never gone back, and as far as she knew, nopony else had ever gone back down there either. Perhaps the Labor Guild would pay top caps for that kind of info... but no, Crossfire, cap grubbing as she was, didn’t think it’d be a good idea for anypony to mess with that tower.

“Well,” said Knobs, “I’ll see you when you get back Crossfire. Wellspring’s back in town, and I was thinking we’d get together?”

Crossfire paused, then let that tiny, rare smile onto her face, making sure she was turned so neither Shard nor Brickhouse could see it, “I’d like that.”

With that, the two parted ways, Knobs leading her wagon north back towards Skull City, and Crossfire and her two companions heading south to meet up with the Labor Guild caravan they would be escorting to Saddlespring.

As they walked, a swift, pleasantly cool wind blew across them from the east, from the distant mountains where Crossfire knew a few small groups of tribal ponies made their homes. Crossfire, for reasons she wasn’t certain of, found herself gazing east as she walked, facing that wind. It felt good on her face, billowing out her long, blue ponytail mane. Facing that wind she had the strangest feeling, as if something was carried upon that wind. A sense of change. A sense of... something stirring in the depths of her soul.

Crossfire dismissed the feeling and doggedly continued to walk, shaking her head at her own foolish, if brief whimsy.

She had a job to do, and caps to earn.

Author's Note:

And there we have it, the final chapter of Crossfire's side story, though hardly the end of her story. I had a great deal of fun writing this all out and putting into word what had before just been my own musings as to some of the background of this character. As I said this is far from the end of Crossfire's story, merely a glance at some of the events that shaped her going into her first encounter with Longwalk in Trigger to Tomorrow. There's much more to tell, but that's for another story, and for a certain tribal colt to learn. Aside from writing Crossfire and other characters like Knobs, it was also just fun to delve a bit into Detrot, aka Skull City, and provide a bit of a glimpse into what the place is like. I hope you all enjoyed it too. As always thanks go to KKat for creating a story that's inspired so many of us to delve into it in our own ways, and thanks to Doomande for pre-reading for me. I welcome any and all comments and critiques and thoughts from you guys, and thanks for reading.

Comments

[the other sans]

Once inside the doors seale behind her

Sealed.

each of Crossfire’s shots narrowing missing the griffin’s flesh

Narrowly.

using his gun to ward off the words of the glass shards from his face

Words of glass? Suddenly, a Dragonborn shouts glass words ((Worst))

Through the smoke and shrapnel the dark, darting form of Nightbane could be seen

The darting form of Nightbane could be seen.

following he now much more dirty alleyway until she turned

The.

and while she might wriggled out of trouble

Wriggle.

You’re plan isn’t bad, even I’ll admit that

Your.

“What!?” Spiked growled, showing barred teeth

Bared.

Bruse wasn’t fond of the way

Bruise.

Crossfire, you’d better know what you’re doing, /Bruise thought bitterly

Random... Slash here.

plunged her rifle’s bayonet straight down into the gang mare’s through

Throat.

She cracked Bruse across the face with that gun

Bruise.

“I’m mounting both your heads at my front gate so ponies know for a long time not to fuck with me or mine!”

Just curious, this line meant basically not to mess with her or her gang right?

Her strength fled before she could finish, but Crossfire gripped the other mare’s hoof tightly, saying ‘I will! I’ll take care of her. I swear it. No matter what. Always.”

This one part needs to be a opening quotation mark.

It was suddenly rather hard to breath

Breathe.

If Knobs decided to shot her then and there

Shoot.

mostly to show her where the job boards where and to insinuate

Were.

and through she tried to say some words

Though.

Apparently the Guild never really slept and was pretty active at all hours of the day and night

Forgot your full stop at the end here.

Now for the comments... followed by a quote;

Crossfire didn’t care about the details, as long as she got paid. She doubted anything would happen anyway. Saddlespring was a simple, peaceful town, and most Ruins close to Skull City were fairly harmless...

You dun it now Cross, you've tempted fate.

I'd like to shout profanities at you for choosing goddamn fitting music in this. We finally see the end and while some of us may have seen it coming, some of us were just hoping something a little better would come out of it and not this. Especially Knobs. I think I'll just shout profanities at Doomnade instead. We might get into a good shouting match with a few blows. If physical blows can be dealt through the internet.

Why do I get the feeling that while the past chapter is closed right now, Knobs is going to meet Longwalk and he's going to have his first encounter with the happiest (or perkiest) ghoul he has ever seen? Sure he's seen Odessa, unicorns, pegasi, golems, monsters, hell hounds and pony spiders he hasn't seen a ghoul as of yet.

And suddenly I get the feeling that Crossfire is going to feel a great tragedy coming. I swear if you kill Knobs in the story I'll join Crossfire and beat the shit out of you. And your pet Doomnade as well. Maybe. Just maybe.

[thatguyvex]

4853961
Once more I must thank you for helping with spotting those errors. Consider them fixed.

I'd like to shout profanities at you for choosing goddamn fitting music in this. We finally see the end and while some of us may have seen it coming, some of us were just hoping something a little better would come out of it and not this. Especially Knobs. I think I'll just shout profanities at Doomnade instead. We might get into a good shouting match with a few blows. If physical blows can be dealt through the internet.

The day someone invents a way to transfer physical force via the internet might be the day I have to consider getting an outdoor hobby.

Why do I get the feeling that while the past chapter is closed right now, Knobs is going to meet Longwalk and he's going to have his first encounter with the happiest (or perkiest) ghoul he has ever seen? Sure he's seen Odessa, unicorns, pegasi, golems, monsters, hell hounds and pony spiders he hasn't seen a ghoul as of yet.

Might very well be a thing that could be happening in the near future.

And suddenly I get the feeling that Crossfire is going to feel a great tragedy coming. I swear if you kill Knobs in the story I'll join Crossfire and beat the shit out of you. And your pet Doomnade as well. Maybe. Just maybe.

I can only take it as a compliment that you're that fond of Knobs.

[the other sans]

4856711 I just noticed that I had a lol brain fart for edit number 3, the one about the glass. I meant to put Worst not Worse.

But to answer your suspicions, yes Knobs is a likeable character, one that we wish to see no harm come to her. She's honest, works hard for what she does and tries to keep a smiling face with a positive outlook for the future.

Though I see some irony about her current situation considering her current profession.

[thatguyvex]

4857273
Well, Knobs does at least have a good friend who will go all out to protect her.

True, though she's adapted to her condition fairly well, all things considered.

[SubjectSigma]

Well this story certainly made me view Crossfire is a totally new light. She's still that battle hardened badass wasteland mare I originally saw her as, but this soft side of her and her true motives bring a completely new perspective to her. And poor Knobs. I had to stop and go back when it said she was a ghoul The way you dropped that fact was great as well, but damn she cannot catch a break. I think she may be my favorite character in this awesome world you've made so far. When she first showed up I think I mainly liked her because she looked like a pony version of Carolina from RvB, but now seeing how she is, how no matter what happens to her she's still such a sweet and happy pony... I never seen a ghoul I wanted to hug so bad.

And that last bit with the song was great. Crossfire. I almost feel like you named her that on purpose just to use that song for something like that.

[PersonalGamer]

That wrapped up a lot better than I expected. I expect to hear more of crossfire, though. And I expect that Chekhov's Prison(?) is coming back to give Murphy an assist, and would be sad if it didn't.

Now that that's done, all you need is a side story for Binge! Everypony is asking, after all. Wait... No, they're not. That'd be a rather disturbing and not terribly relevant story.

[thatguyvex]

4862396
Thank you, I was hoping the story might add some depth to Crossfire. And yeah, Knobs, hard to say if she's incredibly unlucky to have all those things happen to her, or if she's incredibly lucky to have survived it. I did very much enjoy writing her, though, even if I put her through so much. Glad to hear you liked the song. Crossfire's name comes from a different Wild Arms ost, but when I noticed there was another with the name I knew I wanted to find a good spot to use it.

4868438

And I expect that Chekhov's Prison(?) is coming back to give Murphy an assist, and would be sad if it didn't.

I assume you mean the tower they found underground? If so, then yes, its no real spoiler for me to say that it's going to be coming up in the main storyline in due time.

Now that that's done, all you need is a side story for Binge! Everypony is asking, after all. Wait... No, they're not. That'd be a rather disturbing and not terribly relevant story.

Can't disagree with you there.

[Doomande]

4853961
PET! PET DOOMANDE! You know what... I think that I will encourage vex to kill her of later on... I mean... we do need some dramatic tension, and since people know of her now. I mean, there are so many complications when one gets new legs, and they could always malfunction as well, Murphy is a strong force in the wasteland after all

[the other sans]

4890815

to kill her of later on

Off

You also forgot to capitalise his name. Assuming Vex is a guy that is.

And the irony is that if you do do that, I'll volunteer to be your Doom

[thatguyvex]

4890815
4892017
... I suddenly feel as if I no longer have a say in these things.

Assuming Vex is a guy that is.

Last time I checked.

[the other sans]

4892099 Oh but you do have a say in things.

Just be careful where you tread lest you enter the Crossfire between us

Now we just have to figure out where you have a say in things...

[404]

Oh, so Crossfire is only turning Longwalk over to the Labor Guild next week to buy legs for Knobs? I guess that isn't so bad. Crossfire is one twisted horse.

[Starlight Nova]

Hold on a second... I thought the Drifter's Guild had four S-Ranked members! You only described three! Who's the fourth? Er, there are four, right? Trigger to Tomorrow has such long chapters I've lost track...

[thatguyvex]

9394964
*nod* Right you are, kind of on both counts. In this story, Crossfire remembers that during the war between the Protectorate and Skull City there were three S-rank Drifters who fought in the battles and earned a fearsome reputation. They're not named here, but two of them are Applegate and Nightbane, and the third one hasn't shown up yet in the main story. Then in the main story, around chapter 27 I think, it is mentioned there are four S-rank Drifters in the Guild in total. That's because one of the S-rank Drifters didn't participate in the war, since Drifters can choose which assignments they take, so one simply choose not to get involved in the fighting. Its mostly a minor background detail that doesn't tie-in much to the main story, but the reason for this is that this final S-rank member specializes exclusively in hunting down Wasteland monsters, and refuses any mission that'd involve fighting people.

[Revluc_The_Pony]

I live Crossfire as much as I do with Binge!

[Fangirling Sunny]

It kinda Wild to think Crossfire and Longwalk have been in the same shoe.

[omnifire]

For a few seconds they both stood there, staring at each other, Crossfire’s face drawn tight in a deep, snarling frown, her teeth grinding. Crossfire was grinning, and kept his weapon trained squarely on her.

Oh no, a male clone!