• Published 27th May 2012
  • 5,543 Views, 845 Comments

Fallout Equestria : New Roam - Delvius



The city of Roam is tortured by ambient and open hostility. Finally, a Praetorian arises to protect the city like the Legionnaires of old, and nothing will stop him. Nothing but himself, that is.

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Chapter 3 - Out of the Sky

Chapter 3
Out of the Sky
"My life is ruined!"








I didn't know quite what to expect. I had just decided to take on a probably impossible task; I didn't even have a plan on how to start, and already I was flying full speed to the walls of the city where the greatest civilization on Earth started. So it didn't come as much of a surprise that my brain was now bombarding me with a whole arsenal of questions, much to my annoyance. After the first few minutes of letting my thoughts settle, though, it all started irritating me less.

Several questions by the automatic question-asker that was my head stood out, though.

'Are you seriously going to do this?' A seemingly pissed off part of my head asked.

'How do you start?' A more reasonable one wondered; how or why I even differentiated the two by their questions, I don't know.

'Do you even know where you're going?' The latter asked, and that question actually snapped me out of my thought-filled flight to the city's edge. I decided to glide back down to the ground before my lack of focus caused me to hit a tree or something. Well, not likely at that height, but still; lots of bad shit can happen to someone, no matter where they are, if they aren't aware. So, where exactly was I going?

'To Roam, wise ass,' Was what that inexplicably cranky part of my brain thought at me.

'Yeah, go fuck yourself,' I mentally thought back at it... at myself...

I grunted as I face-hoofed, only to find out how Cuffs and Kevlar Vest would have felt when I slammed a hoof-full of steel at them. Well, luckily I didn't face hoof that hard, otherwise my muzzle would have bled.

'Ugh, get back to the original question, dumbass,' That part of my brain said again. And this time, I resisted the urge to swear back at it. Well, let's see...

The forty foot high walls of Roam were about another mile due south. From what I saw from the hill, the capital had had what looked like a bridge that hung over a deep chasm as an entrance, and the drawbridges were destroyed. How anyone else got into there, I didn't know.

"But that's what these are for," I said with a smug little smile as I looked back at my wings, stretching them out wide in preparation for flight. So, once I got into the city, first I would look for someplace I could get some food and more water, after which I would try to get knowledge of the surrounding area. I would see what I could find out about the locals, any gangs or tribes, and perhaps sate my own personal curiosity about the zebras from long ago in the process -- that was the plan brewing in my head, at least. It seemed sensible enough, and it was better than just sitting on my flanks, staring north towards my home, wallowing in my emotions and lost-ness like some foal.

Right now, though, I was trotting down a dirt path to the side of an asphalt road. The path seemed to lead towards a structure in a clearing in the dead forest that looked like an old convenience store -- an simple wooden and concrete two-story building, with little in the way of aesthetics in it's boxy form; it was for pure functionality.

I got closer, and saw red bars on my E.F.S. Almost a dozen of them inside.

Of course there were red bars. The wasteland just loved sending me against hostiles, outnumbered, so it could watch me get blasted in the chest and flanks with buckshot. Oh fuck, more killing... just my luck. Well... I might as well; not unless it wasn't necessary. Who knows, maybe they were just some animals or something?

As I glided quietly to the door of the store, which had been pried open long ago, I readied the assault rifle and took a deep breath. There were at least a dozen of them in there. My heart started to pound as I began to worry about my odds, but I just took another breath.

'Okay, let's do this.'

I snapped around around the corner and immediately shouted, "Surrender!" It was an unlikely move to be followed, I know -- what sane person would surrender just because someone told them to? They WOULD surrender if, say, said person had beaten the crap out of them.

But nothing. There was no reaction. Even the bars on my E.F.S didn't show any response. "Ooookay..." I drawled as I landed on the floor of the store, crunching old wrappers underneath my hooves. This place wasn't as thoroughly looted as I had thought; some boxes, and even a safe behind the counter, being untouched. I would look into those later. I kept my guard up; right now, looting this place wasn't my objective. I had to find these bastards before...

Something crunched beneath my hoof and it gave a wet little high pitched crunch as it was flattened by under weight of my metal-clad hoof. I lifted my limb and looked.

Okay, this may not have been the most disturbing thing I had seen yet, but a giant cockroach flattened underneath me was still really disgusting. I swear, if Daisy Fresh back from my stable had looked at it, she'd crawl away and hide under a table somewhere until she was sure they were all dead. I looked at my E.F.S., and saw that one of the red bars had disappeared.

"Hmm, I wonder..." I thought out loud, some relief brewing in my head "Hey! Come out before I come in there and put a bullet in your head!" This time, though, one of the bars shifted. Then the others... All of the red bars were coming to me now.

Oh shit. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have done that, I was not prepared for this! All relief left me as I dove for cover in front of the counter, pulled out the rifle and waited.

'Fuck fuck fuck, they're almost at the corner. Oh, Celestia, they're getting closer!' My heart started to pound again, and this time I found it hard to calm down. But I just sucked in several deep breaths, and that managed to calm me down just in time. 'Okay, here they come!'

More cockroaches. All the red bars were cockroaches. I relaxed and felt a great weight lift off me as I saw that. One them approached the dead cockroach, and then... and then I then felt disgust as it started cannibalizing on the corpse. "Well, that was anticlimactic." I trotted over to them, and said out loud, "Oh no! These horrible cannibals are feasting on the corpse of one of their own! Whatever shall I do?" I waved my hoof dramatically over them, then I just looked at the roaches with a flat look, before stomping on each one with a metal-clad hoof.

Finishing my grisly work of exacting justice on cannibal cockroaches (my Pipbuck was -- and still is -- adamantly deciding to call them 'radroaches', but I just went with the regular 'cockroach'), I finally looked over at the boxes. Most of the wrappers inside them were breached and had foul-smelling, rotten contents spilled around. A few, though, were still wrapped and looked edible enough. I looked over at the name on the wrappers. "'Dulcis Dente tortulas', huh? Let's see, what does that mean? Hmmm... swee-sweet! ... dente... dentist... tooth! Tortulas? Tortulas... bis-biscuit! Sweet Tooth biscuits!" Well, it was a bit of a joy to know some of those zebra speech classes I was forced to attend were paying off.

Packing any food items I could, I opened the cash register. Caps. At least a dozen of them. Remembering how the earth pony mare had used it in her sentence, I slid them all into the pockets of my vest. Finally, I trotted over to the safe. I sighed as I looked at it. Several inches of reinforced steel couldn't be penetrated by my rifle. And it didn't look like something that would open from falling a hundred feet.

As I was just about to leave the building and the safe, I stopped short. That safe was locked, and most locks could be picked! I just needed... "Yes! A screwdriver and three bobby pins! Thanks, Wonderglue," I said as I approached the safe again and knelt before it. Okay, how did I do this again? The last time I did it was so long ago... I placed the pin into the slot of the safe's lock, then the screwdriver, and slowly turned it... careful...

But then the pin snapped. "Damn," I muttered to myself before putting another pin in. "Okay, feel for any stress... Oh! Okay, try shifting it just a tiny bit... almost... just a little more..." I licked my lips as I decided to apply more pressure; pressure which could decide whether the safe opened or not. Oh, how I hoped I made the right choice...

This time the safe opened, and I looked inside in glee. Pride swelled up in me over my accomplishment, and I looked over the contents with a look of augustness.

Well, this wasn't something you usually find in a convenience store -- not unless it was convenient for people to kill their neighbors, that is.

The heavy shotgun within was a semi-auto, ten shells-in-the-mag, iron-sights only, EJ-100 model; the 'EJ' stood for 'Equestrian Juggernaut'. It was a great find for me not only because it came with ammo, but also because it was an Equestrian design and could be handled comfortably (even if I would later on use my hooves for fighting; strange, I never even trained for that kind of combat). The gun nut in me whooped at the sight of the weapon, and my hooves instinctively reached out to grab it.

But, great and joyous as the find was, now I had to make a choice. I didn't have a battle saddle, and the rifle I had gotten earlier -- fairly small and light as it was -- couldn't fit in my saddlebags. Well... it wasn't even comfortable to handle, and it had quite a kick, even considering the fact that I was SURE I was strong enough to handle recoil.

In the end, I decided to take the shotgun and leave the rifle; the shotgun suited me far better, and felt more comfortable to the grip. I did, however, keep the rifle ammo, just in case I needed to sell it to whatever merchant exited out here that didn't try to slit my throat.

Just then I noticed a small name scratched into the barrel. 'Tankbuster' it read. Well... it was a strange name. I wondered how it had obtained such a title. I didn't think anything less than a missile or an artillery shell could bust a tank... meh, probably just for show or something. Then I saw the note inside the safe, which had been covered by the shotgun shells. Picking it up, I unfolded it and looked inside. This is what it read:

"Tekasho,

The Equestrian military is getting close to Roam, and I fear for the fate of our home. I know you think I am a traitor for leaving the empire and you, but I did what I had to do. Take this, it is an Equestrian Juggernaut shotgun. Use it to defend our family. Please, I do not wish to see the fall of our nation, but the Caesar was wrong in his provocation. I pray we may meet again, in better circumstances.

May the stars be kind to our souls.

Zecora"

So, this shop owner, Tekasho, was married to a traitor zebra named Zecora who was fighting for the Equestrian military? Well, wanting to protect him was a good gesture, but I wonder what happened to him. This shotgun didn't look used at all.

Still, doing one last sweep of the store, I trotted back outside and towards the city. Even from this distance, the city still looked immensely large... too large to tame...

Oh, how I spent the next few minutes wondering whether I was making a huge mistake or not.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

As I finally approached the city walls, I saw that this particular segment of Roam's massive walls was smashed down and that there was a makeshift drawbridge leading from my end into the city. There were a few zebra guards, each wearing a segmented leather barding with a brown coloration, at the other end -- one mounting a machinegun and the rest idling around. Not wanting to feel like an intruder by flying over them, or a potential hostile by drawing my weapon, I approached the barricade instead. The guards immediately looked at me and pulled out their guns.

"Halt! Who are you and what is your business here?" A zebra mare asked, stern and cold. While the rest of the guards were looking at me with serious and stern glares, the youngest -- a colt who looked just old enough to have been out of school in my Stable -- was shaking and eyeing me in fear. He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my gladius and on my helmet. Clearly I looked intimidating; somehow that amused me and took a little bit of my anxiety away.

Finally, though, I answered. "My name is Goldwreath, and I am looking to enter the city," I replied as calmly as I could, even though a part of me was quivering in anxiety at their potential to kill me. The colt looked at me fearfully, eyeing my armament and clothing, which once again made me feel a little more at ease. I don't know why I felt that way towards that colt; I was and never will be someone who truly takes pleasure from the discomfort of others. I also wondered who exactly these people were. Where they a gang of some sort? Bandits? Raiders?

I decided to put these concerns into question, even though a part of me hung back in hesitation, "And who, might I ask, are you people? You haven't shot me yet, so I assume you don't want to loot my belongings off my body." Several of the guards glared at me, making me temporarily want to take back my words. But I stood my ground, returning their glares with a blank stare.

Then one of them, the leader I assumed, answered for the group, "We are the Legion. We operate within the city to remove harmful groups, maintain the city however we can, and do our best to bring the people within much needed resources. Just like the ancient legions." At that, her eyes popped wide as she suddenly got a better look at me. "In fact... you are wearing a suit of ancient zebra praetorian armor on you right now! How did you get such a suit?" Her voice carried with it an almost reverent and impressed demeanor, like the mere fact I looked like a praetorian was like seeing a sign from a deity for these people. Which, given how the tribal zebras were, was actually possible. Then again, these people didn't seem tribal... Yeah, nevermind, it isn't important.

I was actually about to tell her 'from my Stable', but that didn't seem wise. Who knew what these people were capable of -- what they would do if they found out about a working fallout shelter? Instead, I just told her what I deemed was believable enough; tell the truth, but no the whole truth, as Lighthouse had once told me.

"I got it from a dead Stable pony. Which is where I got this as well." I showed her my Pipbuck. "Luckily, he was a mechanic. So he brought tools with him, and those tools were able to remove the Pipbuck." I remembered what my class clown, Whoopee Cushion, had once told me about lying: 'The key to a good lie is in the details. Just don't over-think, or you'll find yourself stammering.' I mentally thanked him, then I looked back at them. They considered me carefully. Finally, they lowered their guns and the leader approached.

"Very well. You may enter," She said, and I smiled and started trotting past them.

"BUT there is a toll. One hundred caps," She demanded, shoving her hoof forward and stopping me before I could go any further.

Annoyance sprang up in my head; mostly because I thought she should have told me BEFORE I got all happy. I was tired of having good emotions turn to bad. "A hundred caps? Ah, well... wait! Do I really have to pay this? I don't see it in writing," I protested, much to her visible agitation. Clearly, she wasn't used to being questioned or otherwise hampered like this.

Just then, the youngest zebra nervously brought out a stone tablet with chalk scratched over it and gave me a sheepish smile. It had different rules and regulations about entering the city, but one caught my eye: "Admittance into Roam: 100 hundred caps..." I raised my head up and murmured through grit teeth, "Well, son of a bitch." I turned back to her and gave my own sheepish smile. "Yeah... sorry, I don't have a hundred caps."

She just looked at me hard for a moment, giving me a glare that almost, on it's own, threatened to shoot me. Then she stomped her hoof down and said imperiously, "Then I cannot allow you to enter. Turn back." The guards all pointed their guns at me again, except for the youngest, who just looked at the ground as he slowly backed up. Figuring out that I wouldn't be able to get far without them putting me down -- even if I SO wanted to try my luck -- I reluctantly turned and started walking away. Honestly, what else could I do? They seemed like a government; would I go rebel already? Sure, antagonize an armed and supposedly large organized group; seems like a wonderful idea!

But then there was this... odd, static-y noise that emanated from within the hollowed out wall. I knew that sound, that was the sound of a radio! So there were some working electronic devices out here, huh? Good to know.

While I continued trotting away, thinking of a plan to get in, one of the guards blankly approached it and banged it once with the butt of his rifle. Immediately, a loud, charismatic voice of a stallion burst through from the radio and into the surrounding area. "Good afternoon, children! I got some news I know you are going to loooove!"

Okay, who the hell was this guy? Out of curiosity, I turned back around and just listened. The zebras seemed to be listening intently; apparently this was something they did often.

"Okay, ya'll know about the Stable Dweller, right? That crazy mare that popped outta a Stable somewhere, and has since taken down the slaver operation out of New Appleoosa? And then you know Security, that OTHER mare who appeared around Hoofington and has cleared a part of a major trade route of those NASTY raiders? And all those other heroes poppin' up all over the place?"

Well, I wanted to know what was going on in Equestria, and at least the news so far was good. Now if only I could GO there... bah, but that desire is not likely to come true.

"Weeeell, ol' DJ PON3 has just learned of ANOTHER knight in shining armor -- and I mean that quite literally in this case -- that just popped up! And it isn't in Equestria this time. That's right, for all my zebra listeners down south, there's finally some hope for ya'! Now, my reports are vague, and only two witnesses reported in."

"Okay, I'm just putting this out there right now: I know for a fact that there ARE other people helping out down there -- those Specter guys, some vigilantes now and again, and hell, sometimes even someone in the Legion gone rogue. So some of you may be asking: 'why does this Praetorian guy get mention and they don't'? The answer is simple: this guy fought with Redeye's slavers, who just SOMEHOW managed to get all the way down to the Zebra capital! The Specters skirmish with the Legion, the Molten Tides fight EVERYONE, the tribes fight one another, but there's barely been ANY fight against everyone's 'favorite' slaver. And THAT is why this guy deserves some mention; but don't worry all those other guys, you ain't forgotten!

"Now, I don't have too much of a physical description, but what I DO know is that he's a crimson pegasus stallion wearing... uh, what's this... 'ancient zebra praetorian armor'... and a blue kevlar vest. (according to the witnesses, at least) That's pretty much the reason why they called him 'the Praetorian', and is also going to be the reason why I'll call him that too.

So for all you listeners down south, take heart. You finally got someone down there who seems willing to help, so try to welcome him. And that means you too, Legion. I know you're supposedly working to rebuild that place, but you can be notoriously dis-trustful. Don't even make me bring up that whole 'refugees as terrorists' incident again."

Anyway... that's it. Stay safe children, DJ PON3 toaster's been on the fritz. I guess I really should get on that... Now, where can I find a toaster repairpony?"

The signal died, static taking it's place once more. The zebras talked quietly to each other, seeming to discuss the recently heard broadcast.

My thoughts were far less organized.

I just stood there, frozen in place. I... was the subject of media now? Wh-what madness was this? Don't get me wrong, I was flattered by the mere thought of it, but already? Was my little act of helping people really THAT important? And again with Redeye, the apparently very important slaver I knew next to nothing about. Were those zebras I saved earlier the witnesses? And if the DJ lived in Equestria, news must have traveled REALLY fast.

'Talked about on the radio... oh, it's the end of the world,' Muttered a familiar part of my brain.

'Not now, you dysfunctional heap of tissue,' I thought back at it. The occurrence of what just happened was still just starting to hit me. This 'DJ PON3' knew about me? But... how? Did the witnesses go all the way to Equestria just to report it in? No, that was ridiculous.

'Still... everyone who heard that might know who I am now. I guess I should ditch the suit before It brings me trouble...'

But the zebras were already approaching, all of them this time. They had their guns lowered, but that didn't really make me feel any better. They were examining me critically as they approached, their glares making them look like they wanted to tear out my insides with their gaze alone. I did my best to look... calm -- and for that I can say I succeeded -- but I could not stomp down the panic swelling up in my head.

Finally, they stopped right in front of me. Before they did, though, I loosened the gladius from the sheath a little, just in case. As they stood there, the leader zebra took a few slow steps forward, stopping about a foot from me

Finally, lifting the uneasy silence that was broken only by the static, she spoke. "You are him?" Her voice was calm, almost unnervingly so. I wanted to lie, of course; just a minute ago they'd threatened -- even if not to a personal degree -- to kill me, that alone unnerved me. Still, I guess I couldn't really lie to them at this point.

"Yeah..." I drawled. I really hoped they weren't going to jump me and shoot me in the head or something, whether because they viewed me as a threat or because they, I don't know, thought my head was valuable or something. I really didn't want to fight right now, especially not with that machinegun nearby. And the fact that I had actually killed earlier today... and the fact that I was forced into the outside like an animal... okay, come to think of it, I was NOT in full control of myself; sure, I seemed calm enough, but I remembered how badly I wanted to kill those slavers earlier. I was no delusional fool, I was NOT stable at that moment.

One of the zebras shifted and looked back at his gun, and I tensed. But then he just coughed once and looked back like nothing happened. I was glad that was it, because I was feeling really jumpy right now. The zebra just stared at me for several moments.

Eventually, she looked back at the others, and they just nodded in response. Clearly, it was in zebra culture to talk little, ask questions flatly, and stare a lot -- yeah, pretty inviting culture they had. After all, who needed to talk to others, right? It only kept you from going insane. Well... then again, I may have been talking about the quieter zebra cultures; Roaman culture was QUITE based upon image and position, which needed a lot of talking and a good way with words.

She looked back at me, then said just as flatly as everything else most zebras said, "You may enter Roam. just do not interfere with the Legion, we are already struggling as it is." All the zebras stepped to the side, showing the path into the city.

"Uhh, thanks. I guess," I said as I started stepping past them.

'Maybe shouldn't drop the suit just yet. If it gets people to help me, I guess I should keep it,' I thought, and put on a sinister little smile as thoughts of me stomping around in the suit flashed through my mind.

As I stepped past the wall and into the city, the zebra called back out to me, "And if you really want to help, you should go to our leader, the Legate, in the Forum. That is in the center of the city." Ah, so they really were organized. Honestly, I hadn't expected to find much civilization out here, so I was pleasantly surprised to hear that they were more than just some highwaymen of a sort.

I looked back at her and said as politely as possible, "I'll keep that in mind."

There was a soft beep from my Pipbuck, and I lifted my hoof and looked at the screen. "New quest; 'The Glory of Roam', started. Current objective: find a way to the Forum."

It didn't seem very important at that time, but that notification may have sent me on the most ridiculous quest of my life.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

As much as meeting this 'Legate' seemed important, I REALLY wanted to know more about this place first. Why save a city you know nothing about, right? Made no sense... okay, fine, I'll admit I did just want to compare what I learned in the Stable about the Zebra Empire and what I ACTUALLY saw out here.

Anyway, as I trotted on the crumbled streets, looking around at all the classical-esque structures around me, I decided I might as well admire their architecture while I still wasn't being shot at or something. After all, not a lot of time for admiring beauty in the wasteland, might as well take what you can and when you can.

Really, despite two centuries of decay and disregard, Roam was still a surprisingly majestic city. Everything about it -- from the bridges that crossed over dried rivers to the structures that stood high above the street, from the many statues on pedestals of dirty marble to the pillars upholding massive roofs of classical structures, and from the more modern looking buildings of glass and concrete to the ancient waterways covered in dead moss -- was constructed with such detail and craftsmanship that it created a beauty that even the apocalypse couldn't seem to stamp out completely.

Of course, there weren't that many structures that looked even remotely 'serviceable' in pre-war terms or for carrying out their initial purpose, but I guess the people living here had found ways to use it to their advantage; homes, communication outposts, firing positions, sniper perches...

'Ah, there we go. Just bring up some depressing realities to make my day better. Good job, brain!'

'No problem.' Okay, what, was my brain secretly planning a revolution in my head or something?

Then suddenly there were the sounds distant explosions, booming and thudding, the pauses between them occupied by rapid gun fire. In the distance, flying up from the top floors of a nearby modern skyscraper, I saw what looked like a flying tank! It hovered next to the tall structure, and fired a salvo of rockets against the windows. Immediately, two missiles returned fire. One of them hit the tank, the other was dodged. The vehicle wobbled as it flew away, and several small black dots emerged from it and fired green bolts of energy at the building as the tank slowly flew to the ground.

I stared at that for a moment. What was going on here? Was Roam a warzone or something? Okay, granted that Roam was indeed constantly at war with the tribes and the barbarians, but that's not my point. And who were the combatants? I could guess who was within the building; slavers or raiders or even the Legion. But who the hell was commandeering the flying tank?

'Nevermind that. Right now you need to find some place to take cover in,' Thought the, thankfully, different and more logical part of my brain as I continued trotting around on the broken and cracked marble and asphalt. The sun was setting now, and my Pipbuck said it was 5:30 PM. Oh well, I could see more of Roam the next day (though, I'll admit, the Roaman fan in me was screaming to keep exploring). But that still left me needing a place to stay, and it wasn't like I could just go into one of these buildings at random. I would have to look for a suitable one.

I approached a small, ramshackle, apartment like building beside a large, columned, yet walled-off structure that towered over the surrounding buildings. It was the apartment that got my attention; the really big building had an eery look about it, like some generic haunted house mansion, except this time with a perimeter that could actually keep people out.

I looked to my E.F.S, and it said there were no bars within. Carefully, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. There were the signs of recent activity in here: lots of hoof marks on the dusty plank-wood floor and several tin cans, empty and otherwise, lying around. Well, the building had a second floor, at least. I went upstairs and found a narrow corridor, with window pointing outwards and facing the the way I came on one end and another pointing into the city on the other. Both windows had sandbags, concealed from outside view, going at least halfway to the top of the windowsill. There were several boxes of ammo near each window, and even a few shotgun shells in a cabinet. The rest were sniper cartridges; I left those alone, as sniper rifles were NOT my preferred weapons, nor were their articles in gun magazines.

After I had finished my looting, deciding not to begin looting food until my apples were all gone (the metal armor was heavy enough without stuffing my saddlebags with more stuff), I decided to close the door and prop up a chair against it. I settled on the mattress and just looked at the radio station. The signal was dead; either it couldn't reach this far or it was temporarily disabled. Next I looked at the status of my body. Well, according to my Pipbuck, I was still healthy. Lastly, I looked at the quest log.

'The Glory of Roam,' I thought. 'How did my Pipbuck think of that name? And does the name mean anything aside from just an optimistic text against the grim reality around it?' Well, that didn't matter at the moment. It was already 7:00 PM, and although I usually slept at around 10:00 PM in my Stable, I was exhausted right now. After all, trotting and flying around in forty pounds of steel wasn't exactly good for your fatigue. So, after a few last thoughts about how the hell my Pipbuck named my quest, pinned the location of 'the Forum' on my map, and how it knew I had to meet the Legate in the first place, I drifted to sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I was on the edge of a river, the concrete banks that would have formed a steep fall into the water now broken and forming a stony ramp up onto the road above. The river had clean, fresh, and non-irradiated water, and I could say that for sure because I was drinking it without my Pipbuck clicking.

On the other side, I saw zebras and ponies come out of an eery mist and bending their heads down to drink from the river. I felt proud of myself, watching these people drinking fresh water. I had done something significant, something that for some reason I couldn't remember. Whatever it was, it had gotten people what they desperately needed in the harsh wasteland, something that everyone should have access to: clean water.

As I stood proud on my side of the river, more of them gathered along the banks of the river to drink. They were coming from everywhere: from the upper and lower floors of buildings -- tall and short alike -- from the sewers' ponyholes, and even from the craters formed in the ground from when the city had been attacked. There was no fighting, no quarreling; there was enough for everyone. I smiled as I looked down at the clear, cool water at my hooves. Then I joined them again, and dipped my muzzle into life-giving liquid.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I woke up groggily, but immediately felt the cold, hard metal of a muzzle pressing against my forehead, right beneath my helmet's brow plate. I blinked twice, clearing my vision, before seeing the long, segmented barrel of a sniper rifle against my head, while the moon's light shone in through the window and reflected off the scope. The obscured form of a hoof wearing black hoof-gloves appeared on the rifle's trigger, destroying any hope I had that the rifle had not simply, say, appeared out of nowhere and landed on my head -- a foolish hope, I know, but I just didn't want to think that I might actually have gotten shot.

'Sorry, Luna. I'll appreciate your beautiful moon AFTER I've dealt with whoever this is,' I thought before turning my eyes to the wielder.

Mare, earth pony. She was wearing a camouflage jacket with a hoodie, and as stated before some black gloves. She had a gray coat and a black and short mane, but her cutie mark and face were obscured by black cloth. Her eyes, staring down at me with a hard yet not hateful gaze, were a deep blue, like an oil pastel-colored ocean on paper.

She just kept the barrel down on my head, and I tried to carefully bring out my gladius. That hope was stomped when she performed said action against my left forehoof.

"Please, don't even try it," She said in a surprisingly soft, middle-pitched, yet authoritative voice. With the barrel of such a powerful weapon pointed against my skull, I decided to comply. She backed up, taking two steps before gesturing for me to stand. I did so, and she immediately said, without any hesitation or anxiety, "Get out the door. I will be right behind you. Just follow where my gun pushes you to go, and you won't get hurt. Got it?" Then her voice showed some annoyance as she continued, "Did you even know this was my outpost?"

Outpost? Outposts were outer defensive and operational points, right? So... where exactly was the the place being defended? Well, I guess I would find out soon enough. I trotted outside, feeling the gun being pushed against the back of my metal helmet. As of now, she was pushing me southwest. Trying to maintain a steady pace, despite all the rubble, was proving more difficult than I thought.

After climbing our way through a few narrow alleys in-between equally ruined and toppled structures, we emerged into a wide and long marble and concrete street, and started heading west. With less buildings blocking my vision, I finally got to look up at the moon. It wasn't quite the experience I had hoped, as having a gun pointed at you tended to take some joy out of things, but I took what I could get.

Needless to say, the moon reflected the city perfectly -- at first glance, it was a rough, cratered, broken, and cracked ball of luminous white rock. Physically, it was a stark contrast to the radiant, smooth orb of the sun. But it had beauty, too. Like I said, it reflected the city perfectly: it may have been physically ugly when viewed with typical mentalities of grandeur and opulence, but there was a strange comfort provided by it's subtle, soft glow -- something that seemed to say, 'Even when things are dark, I am with you.' It's bright white coloration stood out well against the dark night, and the stars complimented it softly and brought out it's beauty to the fullest...

Wait, stars?

Okay, at that moment I had some mixed feelings about stars. They were beautiful as well, no doubt about that. They were soft, numerous points of light that seemed like torches far apart from each other upon the black sheet of the night sky, or multicolored glitter spread out over a black canvas or illustration board and illuminated with soft light. They came in different colors -- some were red, others blue, some yellow, most white. In fact, their beauty was such that had I not seen Zecora's letter and the last statement of 'may the stars be kind to our souls' -- and I didn't have a barrel against my head -- I would have enjoyed their sight completely. Such as it was, I really didn't want to die in order to find out what that superstitious sentence meant.

After trotting down the street a few minutes, we finally reached a four-way intersection with high barbed wire fences covering the sides of each entrance, except one. The fence barriers of that side seemed much further down the street to make room for dark silhouettes of the structures on the road. The large fence doors that could close off all four entrances completely had, above them, raised platforms attached to the windows of the nearby structures from which the shadows of guards loomed and patrolled.

Approaching the closest entrance, I saw what looked like a zebra stallion with a bolt-action rifle on the metal platform above me. I entered into the perimeter fences and saw about... sixteen or so makeshift structures of sheet metal built into the fissures and craters of the road. Some of the fissures and craters were so deep down that the roofs of their structures were lined up perfectly with the road. Passing by one of the structures -- a bar, from the look and smell of it -- I saw that a split-open pipe was placed at the entrance. It probably acted as a moat against any rainwater that might have flowed in, as it lead into a deep pit right next to the doorway.

My Pipbuck gave off a noise that resembled a cash register being opened, and I saw the notice 'Via Oppidum discovered' in the corner. 'Via Oppidum' meant 'Road Town', if I remembered my linguistics classes correctly. There were still a few flickering lights that were on -- mostly hanging upon wires that snaked above the town, but there were a few in the buildings themselves -- and several guard ponies and zebras were patrolling. There were probably about fifty bars in this place, all of them blue. That was good; I didn't want to fight any of these people.

The earth pony mare lead me into a small structure on one corner of the settlement, before she pushed me in with a rough shove of her gun. I turned around to face her, but then she slammed the heavy, metal butt of the rifle against my face. She gasped as she saw me falling down, saying in a rushed, soft tone, "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to hit you so hard!"

As I fell down, I had one more moment of consciousness, and, with that moment, I mentally thanked Luna that the gun she was wielding was NOT an HEV Lightningbolt.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

Waking up, I found the light of the sun creeping into my dirty, dingy little prison. It turns out the place wasn't as cramped or otherwise as filthy as I had suspected when first brought here, which relieved me a bit. There was the sound of working outside: hooves trotting about, water pouring into buckets, talking, and the sounds of metal on metal. I also heard voices, most of them asking something along the lines of, 'Did you see who they brought in?'

I got up shakily, the weight of my armor making it hard to balance myself. I opened my saddlebags and picked out an app-...

But they had taken my saddlebags, as well as my shotgun, gladius, and kevlar vest. They had probably tried to take my praetorian outfit off as well, but the metal armor wasn't exactly easy to remove with all the leather straps and knots and the chainmail underneath inter-lacing into the leather undercoat. If that was the case, maybe they didn't have intent to kill me; I think that any determined bandit group with a captive would thoroughly loot their prisoners.

Well, they already took what they wanted from me, so I guessed they wouldn't mind that I banged at the wooden door and yelled, "HEY! Let me out of here! Come on, I didn't do anything!"

There was the sound of movement directly outside, and a shadow appeared from the light seeping in from under the door. The door was pushed open with a long creak, and the mare who introduced my face to several pounds of metal the night before stood before me. For the longest moment, she just watched me, occasionally looking in another direction. Considering she knocked me out last night, I just glared at her -- I didn't particularly dislike her, mind you; glaring was kind of the typical response in situations like these. She looked back with this strangely shy, uncertain look; if she was a bandit, then she honestly didn't seem like she had the expected sternness for her job.

Finally though, she said slowly and shakily, yet with barely hidden restraint, "Are you sure? So breaking and entering into my outpost is 'nothing'?" She gulped and let out a shaky breath, looking around nervously. Then she looked back at me for a moment, before looking away and saying softly, "You're lucky though; Conductor said he wanted to talk to you when you woke up." Then she fell silent, and the awkwardness mounted.

Deciding to brake my silence and end this suddenly awkward situation, I drawled, " Yeeeaaah, well, you didn't exactly tell me I couldn't go in." If she had, then for certain I would have respected her wishes; unless she was using her position to terrorize people, or unless I was that desperate for shelter.

She replied slowly, "Good thing too. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone in and you would have gotten killed. Just don't ask how." I actually really wanted to ask her despite her insistence to not ask, but just bit it in. Well, I didn't see any bodies of any intruders. Maybe she had set traps that, I don't know, people had been smart enough to suspect? That seemed possible, given that she was a sniper; they had to protect there positions, so said a military magazine I had read.

I sighed, "Alright, uh, well, thanks for not killing me then. Now, who exactly are you and these people? Also, where am I?" This place didn't really seem like a slaver town -- I saw no signs of mistreatment or people sleeping outside in the cold -- nor was it a bandit settlement -- I personally thought bandit settlements would be a bit more... barbaric; you know, filled with blood and littered with booze bottles and stuff. These people certainly weren't barbaric. In fact, if what I was hearing was any indication, they all seemed to be working together well enough; there was no fighting, at least, and that was a good indicator.

She didn't respond for a moment, but then said in her rather meek voice, "I don't really tell people I don't know my name. Sorry." She looked up at me with an apologetic and nervous smile. "As for where you are, you are in Road Town -- Via Oppidum in Imperial Zebra. This place is one of the few genuinely friendly places you might encounter in the outer Roaman ruins; don't expect to find any place that won't rat you out unless you pay them if you go into the city. That's what people who've been there tell me, anyway." She pointed her hoof at a one of the buildings on the northern side, across the street, which was the main space where the town's craters and fissures had the structures built into them. The building itself three story building with fortifications around the windows and a barricade at the door.

She clicked her tongue and looked around, her eyes meeting the roof. "Anyway, enough about me. You can learn more about the town from Conductor, and you really should go talk to him. He's quite concerned as to who exactly I brought in."

I nodded and started trotting out, deciding to reserve my questions for later. I passed by her in the doorway, making her cringe to the side. I was starting to get the impression she only appeared stern last night because... well, I don't know, maybe she took the security of the place where she stayed really seriously.

Just then, I remembered I was still missing all my stuff. "Hey, where exactly is my stuff? Did you take it from me last night?" It was either her or someone else; probably someone else, this mare didn't look like she could even stay near me comfortably.

At that, she cringed quite a bit, almost looking ashamed and embarrassed. Her reply came in a strangely shy voice that shook and stammered, not at all like the calm and collected demeanor she showed the previous night. "Yes, well... um... I, uh... you had quite some dangerous weapons. So, uh, I had to... take it from you. I-I hope you don't mind." Oh. Well, maybe she was the one who took my stuff from me.

After a while she gave a sheepish smile, and trotted away quickly while keeping her head low. As she moved away, I got a good look at her cutie mark, as well as some other... areas -- and for goodness' sake I am not, nor am I, a pervert; so don't even think about it. It was just the angle of view and the direction her flank was facing, okay? Oh, damn, now I'm thinking about it...

Anyway, it was a strange cutie mark, not an object or a group of objects. Rather, it was more of a situation; it was a silver, typical medieval shield with mist coming from within, crawling outwards. And, within the mist, there was the silhouette of a pony -- or maybe a zebra, I couldn't tell -- in the background. I put that detail into mind -- who knew, maybe it had an interesting background -- and trotted across the town's main area to the building.

The town didn't have much in the way of an established and solid perimeter. They seemed to have only chain fences for blocking the different entrances, garrisoning the structures near them with some guards, as well as the platforms above the fences. Still, it had some of the things that I supposed pre-war society would have had: they had a few small merchant stalls and reasonable security, even a bar. Lining the side of one of the buildings was a set of wooden animal pens, closed off by wooden gates, and topped with sheet metal.

With curiosity of this strange new world taking over me, I trotted over and took a peek inside one of the pens, despite the stench.

What in Luna's frosty strap-on was that?

Pardon my language, younger or otherwise offended-by-strangely sexual-oriented-audiences -- although where I got the tendency to swear with sexual terms eludes me -- but... what I saw inside was just... was a disgusting and foul-smelling two-headed cow! It's skin was somewhere between pink and orange and had quite a lot of infections and marks that marred it's skin and whatever remained of it's coat. My eyes widened as I stared at the... thing, and my stomach churned violently. It was good that I had not eaten anything.

A zebra mare approached, wearing what appeared to be tattered classical Roaman citizen robes -- strange choice of post-apocalyptic clothing, I know -- and looked at me. Her eyes widened in wonder as a small smile crept onto her face. "Morning. I see you've met our brahmin -- strange things, aren't they?" Then she face-hoofed, and said with rushed politeness, "Oh, sorry. My name's Meryl, and welcome to Via Oppidum. What's your name?"

I replied in a stutter, "Eh, uh... morning. I'm Goldwreath." It may have been a bit unwise, just saying my name casually like this; that's not really the sort of thing you'd expect to do freely in the wasteland. "Might I ask, what's a... 'brahmin'?"

She snickered good-naturedly, "Probably a Stable-pony..." She looked at me, then the brahmin. "Brahmin's are, well, basically mutated cows. They could speak before and during the war, the cows I mean, not the brahmin -- they don't talk, or so I've come to observe. They provided us with food as long as we took care of them back during the war -- don't know if you knew that." Then her eyes widened a bit and she said with a tone as if she was trying to correct me for something, "They were sentient, mind you; some of them were Roaman citizens, so I was told." She looked over at the brahmin, and said with a wistful, sad look, "And they still provide for us. Even if we can't always protect them any more. Poor guys. I wonder what it's like for them."

I wondered too, and the thought of it saddened me. Sure, I may have been disgusted, but looking at the creature... person, I mean, I just had to ask myself if they knew what I was saying and what we were talking about. If they did, well... best not to offend.

"What do you feed them?" I asked, concerned.

She replied with a sigh, "What we can. Mostly what plant matter the traders bring around -- mostly dried grass, per our request. Occasionally we give them some live grass, and boy do they get excited when we do. But... mostly just what we can." She shook her head, "I wonder how these guys'll survive out here. They did survive before, but... I don't know. How are they gonna live?"

Well, this was getting more and more depressing. I excused myself -- even giving the brahmin a polite nod, and trotted off. The last thing I saw was the zebra giving the brahmin several pats on the head, and somehow that made me sniff.

Thankfully I soon arrived at the building, and my arrival there swept away the feelings from earlier. A zebra guard standing at the doorway gestured to come inside and sit on on one of the old, moldy couches on the floor. Taking that as my cue to sit down, I got onto the sofa while the guard went upstairs. While he was away, I looked around at my surroundings.

The walls were a very dark, dirty red, with most of the paint peeling off in large flakes. The cement beneath was cracked and scorched, but not enough to fatally weaken the structure's integrity. Most of wooden furniture in the room was on the verge of collapsing on themselves; decay and bacteria having eaten it's way through most of their wooden legs and the rest of their surface. There was a pile of paper on one of the rotting tables that didn't look quite as rotten as everything else around me. Curious, I went over and took a look. They were security reports, the one on top being written in clean print. I separated it from the pile and started reading it.

" Security report "

M.

A pegasus stallion wearing an intricate suit of metal armor and a blue kevlar vest, as well as a shotgun and a dagger, was spotted in my outpost this night. He is now in the jail building. All belongings save the metal armor have been confiscated and placed in the security crater."

I placed it back on top of the pile. So whoever that mare was, her name probably started with 'M'. 'What could it be', I wondered. All sorts of names came to mind: Mira? Maya?... Matilda? Maybe her LAST name started with 'M'? Or did she even have a last name?

But before I could I think of more names, the zebra stallion came back and called me to follow him up the stairs. I followed him up, and he led me through a nearly broken-down door that opened into an office, which was actually little more than a rectangular space with a bookshelf at the back, a desk at the front, a few windows on the side from which light came in, and a few chairs. There, behind the desk, was a unicorn stallion with a brown coat and butter colored mane. His cutie mark was obscured by the desk, though I didn't really care for that at the time.

"Ah, the visitor. Please, sit down," He said in a calm -- almost forcefully so -- tone, and he had the strangest look of intelligence you could see on a lanky buck like him. He gestured to an unstable looking seat in front of the desk. I was about to turn around and ask the guard if they had something more... substantial, when I saw that the guard had already left and closed the door behind him.

'Oh well. I just hope that chair can take my weight,' I thought, and with a sigh made my way to the chair. As I sat down, the chair gave a soft groan and a long creak, but thankfully didn't break. I then turned to the stallion with the intent of asking some questions, but he beat me to that intent, much to my annoyance.

"So, you are the one my guards brought in last night. Might I ask, who exactly are you, stranger? You don't look like a bandit, but your armor very much resembles Legion heavy troopers. Could you explain that, please?" He asked with a hint of suspicion and quite a lot of caution. Clearly, I looked intimidating in my segmented steel armor and red plumed helmet. Well, to be honest, I DID look intimidating in it. I would try to use that to my advantage later on in my experiences, actually.

"My name is Goldwreath. And no, I am not affiliated with the Legion. Although, they did let me in after the DJ spoke about me on the radio. I don't really know how the DJ even knows about me, though -- something about me being the only one fighting some 'Redeye' character," I replied honestly; who knew, maybe he could detect lies? Unicorns were unpredictable like that, always using magic and whatnot.

His eyes suddenly popped wide, lingering on any exposed patch of coat and then on my wings. Realization seemed to dawn on his expression. "You-you're that pegasus DJ PON3 was talking about yesterday? The one who freed those zebras?" I nodded, and he seemed to relax, letting out a deep breath. "Oh, good. You have no idea how relieved I am to know that someone capable as you is within the vicinity."

He looked up at me with a strangely pleading look, and elaborated, "We've been getting hit a lot by bandits lately, and some of the people we sent out to look for supplies outside the city's walls have already been taken by that Redeye. We also get attacked by raiders on occasion." He clicked his tongue and looked at me nervously and stammered,"I know I don't quite have the right to ask, but... uh, maybe you could, well, maybe, you know... uh, ...help out with that?"

Now came one of the first major decisions I had to make. Now, I know what you're thinking: 'Goldwreath, you need to survive! Don't throw away your life for people who barely know you and whom you barely know!' Yes, that thought ran through my mind, quite a bit in fact. However, the mere fact was, to put it lightly, was that I had little to no plan on how to start with my ridiculously large ambition of helping the city. So really, what I had been presented just now was an opportunity to start with it. I couldn't just throw it away. Besides, in all honesty, I needed something to do. Just trotting around the city aimlessly did NOT sound like a good idea.

Still, I was not without concern. "Well, I would help. And... I will. But... all by myself? I got those slavers by surprise and by catching them unprepared. I doubt I can do that against larger groups, especially now that they know who to look out for." At the last statement, he gave me an incredulous look, as if baffled I would even suggest such a thing. He got up off his chair, taking a step back (standing on his hindlegs as as he leaned against the wall behind him), and rather dramatically touched his chest with his right forehoof.

"What? Oh, no no no no no no no no. No. Of course not ALONE. I wouldn't want such an important and capable individual such as yourself going ALONE." He got down on all fours again, and continued calmly, "No, you will be accompanied by Myst. She knows where these people are." Oh, okay. Well, at least I wasn't going alone...

Wait, who was Myst?

As he sat back down, I decided to ask, "Uh, who's Mys-..."

But I was cut off as four explosions shook the building in rapid succession, causing Conductor to hit the ground as he fell forward from the shaking. Outside, the ponies and zebras were running around, screaming as two more missiles slammed against the ground. The guards were firing back with whatever automatic weapons they had, and I could even hear the blasts of shotguns. Conductor raced past me, bucking the door open and galloping downstairs. Me? I just flew out the window and slammed my metal-plated hooves on the cracking road beneath me, feeling like a boss. Of course, that feeling of epicness abandoned me when I saw the flying tank falling out of the sky crashing towards me.

'Nice job, dumbass,' A very unwelcome part of my brain said. I didn't care enough to respond at the moment as I rolled out of the tank's way JUST as it crashed several feet from me and started dragging itself across the street to where I was a moment ago.

Stopping on the roof of the bar, I turned around to look at the fallen tank. There were several pegasi wearing a strange, segmented black armor sticking out of the door leading into the compartment of the tank. As I watched, one of them; a mare with broken goggles (showing her eyes to be a deep orange) with a mane that had a had a lighter orange coloration on the outside and a darker orange underneath, began crawling out of the tank but collapsed as she reached the street.

I looked at where the missiles were coming from: a wave of Legionnaires were approaching from the west, at least three of them carrying some form of some form of rocket launcher, and they seemed to be willing to destroy the town to get at whatever survivors were in the wreckage. That thought was confirmed when the guards called out to each other, shouting for a rally against the Legionnaires, who promptly opened fire.

"Aw, hell no..." I said as I saw them breaking past the fence gates and spill into the street. The guards took cover in the debris and craters created by the impact of the missiles, while firing down the street at the gathering mob of angry Legionnaires. Well, I had not time to waste! And so I grabbed my shotgun and...

Oh, surprise surprise, they didn't give it back. Great, I was screwed.

I looked around to try and find the mare -- Myst -- who had surely taken my stuff the night before, but I couldn't see her among the guards. And so I thought, 'She's a sniper. And where do they stay most of the time? In buildings.'

With that thought in mind I dove for the cover of a fallen pillar, which brought me next to a zebra mare guard. I looked around at the buildings while watching out for a muzzleflash near the windows. There was nothing there. Well, there was nothing I could do about it at the time. So I did the only thing I could do: try to get these guards into a retaliatory strike.

This was no skirmish like the day before. This was a battle.

I couldn't help it, I started panicking. This enemy was organized and well armed, not at all like the slavers from yesterday. I could already envision them overwhelming the defenses, slaughtering everybody in sight, me included. My mouth became dry, and my heart thundered in my chest like an overworked pump. My eyes darted around in panic, and all thoughts were reduced to an indecipherable haze of scattered words and blurry mental images. I cowered where I was, and shut my eyes close.

But at last the panic subsided, and to my own surprise I found myself lying down on the asphalt, right against a fallen concrete column, and shaking. I shook my head, drew myself up, took a deep breath, and swiped the receding shame of my cowardice away. No, no time for panic now. That was detrimental, and I needed to be at full capacity right now.

I was still in the same cover as the zebra mare from earlier. My chest plate scraped on the ground as I crawled towards her, feeling the bullets whizzing through my plumes and scratching the metal of my helmet. I screamed over the battle, "Where are they coming in from?!"

Delaying a second, she yelled in reply over the roar of the battle, "They are storming in from the western entrance, as well as from the western buildings! They must have broken away the barricades to have gotten in!" After that, she popped her head out of cover and fired a shot of her rifle at an approaching zebra stallion, hitting him in the neck as he attempted to gallop to cover.

Okay, so I had to think of how to deal with this...

They were encroaching in on the town from the western direction. They at least didn't have the advantage of cover, but the guards couldn't pop out of cover often enough to put a serious toll on their numbers. The Legionnaires were sporting automatic assault rifles and submachine guns, so they would try to get closer to use them effectively. The ones with the launchers seemed intent on nothing else but trying to finish off the tank, and for that one of them was already lying dead in one of the craters. Now, if I could draw their fire long enough, I could give the guards the opportunity to shoot while the assault was reloading. But where would I fly off to? If I knew where my equipment was, I could perhaps help in the battle. But where was the security crater? And where was Myst, as well? The only thing I could think of now was try to lead the guards in a counter-attack, but I would need my weapons to defend myself.

Then suddenly, over the chaos of the battle, echoing semi-auto gunshots rang through the air with threatening clarity. 'CHUG!' 'CHUG!' 'CHUG!' 'CHUG!'. I saw four Legionnaires fall from shots in the head, the rifle rounds ripping half their heads off. Relief and adrenaline shot through my veins as I thought of the most likely wielder of that rifle: Myst.

I looked at the buildings, my eyes scanning the windows. There, right out of the second floor, was the muzzle of the rifle I had seen the night before pointing at the amassing crowd. I shouted as loud as I could, draining my lungs, "MYST! WHERE THE HELL IS MY STUFF?!"

I waited for an intense moment, heedless of the battle going on about me. Screams and yells and shots were ignored as I focused all attention to whatever reaction came from the sniper. Several times did a bullet nearly hit me, and the zebra mare almost pulled me back down; for sure, exposing myself like that was NOT a good decision, and I was lucky I wasn't hit at all.

Then the barrel nodded twice in in the direction of a sheet of metal, the roof of a structure, on the other side of the street. It must have been the security crater. I looked at the zebra mare and told her, "They're trying to keep you down with suppressing fire! Take EVERY opportunity to take a shot at them, otherwise they'll overwhelm us! Keep your head down, and aim! Most of their shots are unguided!" She just looked at me, fear and uncertainty etched in her facial features, and gave two small nods.

I looked at the distance from my position to the other side of the street: it was around twenty feet. Bullets shot across the gap again and again, making it look like a storm of lead. Sparks and concrete shot into the air as both sides opened up on each other with non-stop lead. Well, I would have to go through that. There was nothing for it.

Let's do this.

I jumped into the street before using my wings to propel me quickly to the other side of the street. For just a moment, I felt the heat of dozens of projectiles on the exposed parts of my hindlegs and flanks. Bullets from both sides scraped underneath and above me, and I could have sworn I felt an impact against my helmet. My armor similarly took several hits, but thankfully I sustained no injury.

But just as I reached the cover of the other side, a powerful burst of automatic fire ripped through my right wing, tearing some very large holes in the flesh and hitting at least two of my bones. I crashed into a concrete slab on the other side of the street, denting my armor in the process. Sharp, stabbing pain pulsated from my torn wing, and I winced and bit my tongue from the agony of it. It was just the first time I injured my wing like that. Gradually, though, as I lived out in the wasteland more and my wings took more beating, I got more used to it. At that time, though, it hurt like hell.

I forced myself to focus through the pain and picked myself up off of the ground. My eyes glanced over three guard ponies taking cover against another concrete slab a little further from me. They were cowering and flinching at every impact on their cover; it was pathetic. Turning to them, I yelled at their fearful, oblivious, naive-looking faces, "Take shots whenever you can! Don't let them pin you down!" I pointed at a blue earth pony stallion with an assault carbine, "Especially you, with the assault rifle!" They seemed to understand, and leaned less pathetically against their cover as they waited for a break in enemy fire.

The blue earth pony, however, started to take several slow steps back, hyperventilating as he began to lose focus on his grip on the rifle. His breath smelled of alcohol, as did everyone else's -- I may never have drunk, but I knew the smell: wine and beer, lots of it.

Of course he was drunk! But of all the times be drunk, he had to pick today? As he began to shake, I stomped over to him and smacked him across the face, saying in as stern and authoritative voice as I could, "Get back in formation, you drunken fool!"

He stared at me for a moment, eyes widening in apparent revelation. Finally he shook his head. He seemed to regain some of his senses, and scampered over to join the others to form a less laughable defense.

I stayed close to the cover of the walls as I slowly made my way to the crater. My wing started bleeding heavily, and I felt more than a little lightheaded, but I forced myself to focus. Finally, I reached the crater the station was in and crawled through the entrance. I found myself in a surprisingly spacious and cozy circular crater with around thirteen beds formed in a ring around a stack of smoking coal in the middle. I stared at all of it for a moment, contemplating how the guards would have lived down here.

Then my eyes fell upon a table near the exit ramp. And there, on that table, was my stuff. I galloped over and picked up my gladius from the floor, grabbed my shotgun and put on my vest. Looking through my saddlebags, I dug out a healing potion and downed it. Immediately, the bleeding from my wing stopped, though some ugly scars remained. Checking Tankbuster's ammo, I jumped out of the exit and out into the street.

Well, this wasn't good.

The attackers had pushed more than halfway into the town, nearing Conductor's office. The zebra and the three ponies, accompanied by perhaps five other guards and a few of the settlers, were still holding their ground though, but they wouldn't last unless I did something drastic. Flying to the nearest cover I could find -- a concrete column support for one of the buildings -- I waited for the approaching mob of... twenty-two zebras to approach. My heart thundered in my chest as my panic spiked, but I maintained a level of calmness.

One of them ran past me, and I reflexively blasted her in the back with the shotgun. The shotgun gave a monstrous roar, launching the pellets with such force that the zebra mare was actually ripped in half. It was at that point that I learned why the shotgun was called 'Tankbuster'.

Dashing around the corner of the column, I flew up and into a circular formation around the approaching group, drawing a significant amount of their fire to me. I felt several bullets strike my barding and armor, but they were either shotgun pellets or some low-caliber ammunition. I rose into the sky, performing an aerial back flip as I fired three shots into the crowd. The blasts were so strong they actually killed four of the tightly-packed group. That left me with eighteen more.

As I approached the ground for a landing, the remaining guards popped out of cover, and peppered the street with a short but deadly burst of fire. Another four fell, leaving fourteen more. As I approached the last missile-packing Legionnaire, I dove down and slammed into him, sending him flying against the same concrete column I had taken cover behind and smashed his face against it. The others were still trying to catch up from when I had strafed them, then from when the guards had shot at them, then from when I had landed in their midst.

Tankbuster roared as I turned and sent the remaining six shells into the crowd, downing three while the rest took cover.

As I was about to dive for cover to reload, a zebra stallion wearing heavy, metal armor studded with kevlar around the chest and shoulder slammed into my side, sending me crashing against a pile of rubble that had fallen from one of the building in the initial missile strikes. I grunted as I pulled myself out of the rubble, looking at one very angry looking zebra stallion in a similar version of my segmented metal armor. His metal helmet also had plumes, going left to right instead of front to back. The Roaman numeral 'II' was etched on his browplate, signifying officer status.

"What, you want a piece of this?" I said, taunting, as I drew the gladius, the blade giving off a deadly ringing noise as it moved in front of me. The other attackers were now the ones pinned down, being scattered and confused, by the guards as they moved forward.

The gladius seemed to give the centurion Legionnaire pause for a moment before he put on his original fierce expression. He glared at me as we circled each other, and pulled out his own gladius. Our eyes were kept on the other's movements like the smallest twitch would be the last thing we ever saw, and given the situation it was very much the case.

Finally, I lunged forward, aiming for a gap in his shoulder plates. Just then, though, he shook his left side roughly and a thick metal plate on his shoulder slid down to reveal a red, circular, segmented metal shield. My blade deflected harmlessly off his shield, and he took the opportunity to bash the shield against my face before turning and slashing me across the chest. Luckily, I shifted my head to the side, the helmet taking most of the bash's force and my armor scraping the blade away.

I staggered back a bit, before regaining enough composure to rear up and slam both forehooves against his shield, this time sending him staggering a few feet back. I jumped up and flew above him, then dropped myself on him with a metallic stomp. He managed to move just enough to avoid two of my hooves, but the other two caught him in the flanks. His hindlegs collapsed out from under him, and I came in behind him as I stabbed the blade into his neck. The helmet's neck plate, which would have prevented this stab, had been completely torn off by what looked like a shotgun blast. His body slumped to the ground in a metallic thud, and I turned to face the others.

The remaining Legionnares were formed up in a circular formation, retreating out the way they came. There were only five left now, but they were almost at the exit. A loud metallic 'CHUG!' emanated from what looked like an old coffee shop, and the bullet splashed a zebra mare's brains all over the ground behind her. From behind his own cover, the same drunk stallion fired a missile launcher at them, the rocket exploding in the middle of the survivors. All their limbs rained from the sky, and an eyeball landed next to me. I just looked at with barely hidden disgust before finally turning to go back to the town with the others.

The battle was won, and I was alive. Now it was time to investigate who the hell the people in that sky tank were, and why the Legion seemed so determined to kill the survivors, even if it meant attacking a town. It must have been a pretty important topic if they went against their goal of protecting the city to pursue the pegasi.

'Well, now I've got some questions of my own,' I thought as I neared the sky tank, the survivors of the attack already gathering around it. 'Time to find out.'





Footnote: Level Up

New perk gained: Praetorian, Level One -- Nice, you're leadership skills are remarkable. All followers and friendlies gain fifteen percent more health, as well as deal additional damage, if they are close to you.

Author's Note:

This chapter took me QUITE a while to edit.