> Fallout: Equestria - Outlaw
>  by Tofu
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Cryptic Warning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Prologue: Cryptic Warning



Pain. And light. Bright light. It felt like Princess Celestia herself was bringing every last bit of her powerful magic to bear in order to smite me with the very fire of the sun itself.

…Hang on, that didn’t make any sense. Not only was Celestia no longer among us, but she was said to have been kind and benevolent—never malevolent and spiteful. Why then, was this insanely bright light feeling like it was trying to sear my eyeballs and making my head feel like it was caught in a vise? I groaned as my attempt to puzzle through the confusion caused the throbbing, blinding pain to increase and my stomach threatened to violently expel its contents.

Reluctantly, I peeled my sleep-crusted eyes open and held up a forehoof to shield them from the early morning sun pouring in through my window. Daylight. Right. Again, I groaned miserably and buried my face in the cool dark depths of my pillow. Oh, sweet relief at last.

“Mach!”

Oh, come on.

“Mach, breakfast!”

My stomach rumbled insistently despite my headache-induced nausea. Stupid indecisive, overdemanding body. Fine, I thought, You win. Food it is. Keeping my eyes pinched shut tightly, I slid carefully off of my bed, swaying unsteadily on my drowsy hooves as they sank a few centimeters into the cloud floor beneath me.

Heaving a massive yawn, I trudged forward blindly, using my lifelong memory of the house’s layout to navigate through my room and into the hallway before turning left to descend downstairs. I let my nose lead me from there, following the scent of fresh cooked food right into the kitchen like a busy little worker ant following a pheromone trail back to his colony.

Once I’d located the table with the foolproof method of bumping straight into it, I plopped my flank down into a chair and immediately let my forehead drop onto its surface with a sigh of relief. Well, that hadn’t been so hard. From bed to the kitchen with no mishaps along the way. I’d make it through the rest of the day yet. Baby steps.

“Good morning, sweetie!” the cheerful voice of a mare called out to me, and I sensed as much as heard a plate being set down by my head. “How’s my little stallion doing today?”

“Oh stars, Mom, not so loud,” I groaned painfully, each one of her syllables making my forehead feel like it was about to split open.

“I’m sorry, dear,” my mother apologized, lowering the volume of her voice considerably. “Here, this should make it a little better.”

She set something else down by me, and I finally perked up a bit when I gave an experimental whiff and identified the gloriously familiar scent. Coffee! I immediately picked my head up, expecting to see the ruby red coat and sunny smile of my mother, but soon felt hope turn to disappointment when I saw a silver-coated stallion with a light, bristly ice-blue mane sitting across from me.

“Oh,” I muttered glumly, feeling my ears droop as I cradled my mug between my forehooves and sipped carefully at the piping hot liquid within. “Hey, Dad. I thought you’d have left for work already.”

My father’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke considerably louder than was necessary. “I hope that hangover of yours is painful. Maybe the next time you decide to stay out until four-thirty in the morning drinking yourself so stupid you can’t fly straight, you’ll think twice about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you even make it into the house?” my father replied gruffly. “I didn’t hear you stumble in through the front door.”

“Flew in through my window.”

“Of course you did,” my father sighed, pressing a hoof tightly to his forehead. “Have you given any thought as to when you’re going to move out and find your own place to live? Aren’t you just the least bit ashamed that you’re a full grown stallion still living with your parents?”

I let my head fall back to the table. “Oh, sweet Cygnus, here we g—”

“Don’t take the spirits’ names in vain!” my mother chastised from over by the sink, turning to look reproachfully over her shoulder at me.

“—Go,” I finished stubbornly, picking my head back up to frown grumpily at my father. “And no, I haven’t,” I said, leaning forward to take a bite of what I’d only just now identified as a waffle sitting on my plate. Oats and chocolate chips. Not bad. Mom knew me like the back of her hoof. “Why bother moving out? We’re a military family, Dad. Our schedules and mission assignments are all so different that we’re rarely all in the house at the same time. It’s not like I’m intruding on your space, or you mine, so what’s the big deal? It’s a lot easier financially to just pay you guys a cut of the bills than it is to go out and get my own place.”

“Don’t you have any desire to purchase a house of your own?” my father scoffed incredulously. “Or find that perfect mare to spend the rest of your life with? I can guarantee you that no mare will want to marry a buck who still lives with his parents. What about a family? Don’t you ever want to settle down and have a foal of your own?”

“Not really.”

“So you’re perfectly content to spend the rest of your life sleeping with any mare who’ll have you and drinking yourself into a stupor whenever the opportunity presents itself?” my father said, the disappointment evident in his tone. “Is this really the path you’ve chosen? You come from one of the most well-respected pegasi backgrounds in history, and you’re going to choose the life of a… of a loser? Don’t you have any ambition at all?”

“If you’d just let me apply for transfer to the Wonderb—”

“NO!” my father roared, standing up so fast his chair went toppling over behind him, and slamming his forehooves on the table in outrage. “No son of mine will be a Wonderbolt, do you hear me? You will not disgrace the family by joining their ranks!”

“How would that disgrace us? The Wonderbolts are one of the most prestigious—”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times—we’re done speaking about this,” my father growled, bringing the conversation to a close. I glared at him as he pulled on the jacket to his uniform and seated his impressive peaked cap carefully between his ears, the three silver stars inlaid above its brim glinting in the light. “I shall see the both of you later, I need to be going before I’m late for duty.”

I glared moodily at my waffle as my father departed, its perfectly square shape marred by the one big bite I’d taken earlier. That years-old depression was starting to sink in, and I sighed sadly as my old buck’s words echoed over and over in my mind. I’d tried to make something of myself. I had! Why wouldn’t he let me transfer into the Wonderbolts’ squadron? They were the elite—the best of the best. Surely being among their numbers would bring us honor, not disgrace? I just didn’t get it. I never had. All these years, and he still stubbornly refused to let me fly with them.

“Don’t let him get you down, dear,” my mother crooned as she took a seat beside me at the table. “He loves you just as much as I do. You know it’s just his way.”

“His way is what’s causing the problem he’s been complaining about for all these years,” I mumbled sullenly. “I want to fly, Mom. To my absolute limits. I don’t have the kind of freedom to push myself where I am right now. If I were flying with the Wonderbolts, I could do that, but…”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” my mother said, gently wrapping her forelegs around my shoulders and curling a wing around me comfortingly. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but your father outranks me. He outranks a lot of ponies. He has too much pull in the military for anypony short of the Enclave High Council itself to supersede his authority.”

“Don’t I know it,” I sighed again. I leaned forward to take another big bite of waffle while I chewed over the situation at hoof. “Be nice if Dad cared a little less about his skewed notion of honor and a little more about what I could be doing with my life if he let me be. Instead, he’d rather just shame me about my choices at every turn.”

“It’s okay, Mach. Whatever you decide to do in the future, I just want you know that I’ll always support you. You’ll always be my little colt, sweetie, and I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, smiling warmly as she gave me a little peck on the cheek and stood to trot over to the sink and busily wash the dishes.

“So, what are you up to on your day off, Mach?” my mother called over her shoulder while I dutifully attacked my waffle. “You were going out to lunch with your sister, weren’t you?”

“Schedule conflict,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food, chasing it with a gulp of steaming hot coffee to wash it down. “Turned out she had to work today, so we had to put it off until a later day. That’s why I came home drunk last night. I didn’t need to be up early, so I figured I’d sleep in and then just hang around all day. Wasn’t expecting to be woken up for breakfast.”

“Sorry, dear.”

“’S all right,” I shrugged. “It was the sun that woke me up, anyway. I was in the middle of rolling over when you called me down.”

“The sun?” my mother said curiously, leaning over to get a good look out of the window over the sink. “It is sunny, how odd. I could’ve sworn they’d scheduled rain for today.”

“I think they did,” I said before scooping my empty plate up with my teeth and trotting over to the sink to clean it. My mother wouldn’t accept such a notion, and quickly yanked the plate away from me with her own teeth before dropping it into the wash basin. “Mom, I can clean my own plate,” I said sheepishly. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m already feeling like a huge asshole thanks to Dad. The least you can let me do is wash my dish.”

“Nonsense,” my mother said dismissively, planting a forehoof on my chest and pushing me gently away, her nose held in the air haughtily. “You’re terrible at doing the dishes anyway, sweetie.”

“All right, fine,” I conceded, stepping back to let her work. “I think I’m gonna grab some aspirin for this headache and go for a walk. I need a little fresh air to clear my head and think some things over.”

I turned and made my way out of the kitchen and into the house’s main hallway. Framed pictures lined the walls on either side, effectively creating a timeline of my family’s life from the beginning to the present day. Pictures of colt me and my little sister playing, photos from flight school and various field trips, pictures of my sister and I at our respective basic training graduation ceremonies and a lot more besides.

Not all of the pictures were happy memories. Anypony who took a stroll through our little gallery would soon find one constant after perusing the photos. As I grew older, my expression in the pictures changed from happy and carefree, to angry and rebellious, and then lastly to completely and utterly resigned.

One guess as to why.

I nickered in frustration, breaking my gaze away from the pictureframes and trotting my way down the hall to the bathroom. I fumbled my way through the medicine cabinet, knocking bottles of ancient pharmaceuticals retrieved from Equestria’s surface aside in my search for pain relief. I didn’t trust any of this stuff, really. How much faith could you put in a bottle of two-hundred year old cough syrup that had been tainted by the radioactive aftereffect of a balefire holocaust? Not much, that’s for sure.

When my search turned up nothing, I slogged back out into the hallway, calling out to my mother on my way back upstairs. “Mom! Mom, we’re out of aspirin! There wasn’t any in the medicine cabinet!”

My head throbbed painfully, and I sighed again before dragging my hooves up the stairs towards my room. Now that I was considerably more awake than I had been when I’d crawled out of bed, I could see what a disaster zone my room really was. Clothes and old uniforms were strewn all over the place, and various posters featuring the Wonderbolts—both new and old—were hung up anywhere that I could find wall space. A bunch of little action figures of a pre-war Wonderbolts team were displayed prominently up on a shelf, and my most treasured possession was placed out of the way in a corner of the room.

I made my way over to the mannequin, admiring the article of clothing it was displaying just as eagerly as I had the first time I’d set eyes on it. A genuine Wonderbolts’ captain uniform, passed down through my family for generations and treasured more than anything else I owned. Reaching up to the mannequin’s head, I removed the pair of goggles perched there and wrapped the bright yellow band around my own head, seating them carefully upon my forehead, just beneath my mane. Ruffling through a pile of clothes turned up my flight jacket, and I carefully fed my forelegs and wings through the holes before heading back downstairs.

A sudden noise up ahead caused me to halt as my hoof hit the last step, and I looked up to see a small pile of envelopes being pushed through the mail slot in the front door. Ordinarily I’d have ignored it, but one of the envelopes had caught my eye, and I made my way over to the pile curiously.

Reaching a hoof out, I spread and separated the letters out on the floor, my eyes immediately drawn to the pitch black envelope with my name printed above the address.


Mr. Mach the Pegasus
82 Easyglider Avenue
Neighvarro, GPE


I got mail all the time, so receiving a letter wasn’t all that strange. What was strange about it was the superimposition of the Grand Pegasus Enclave’s emblem on the envelope—a pair of eyes glaring out from beneath an arch atop billowing clouds. That fact alone meant it had come straight from the government—which, being a military pony, wasn’t exactly strange—but there was no stamp or return address. Taking that into consideration, the fact that it had reached my doorstep at all meant somepony had pulled strings to get it here. What the hell could it be about?

Grasping the envelope between my forehooves and tearing it open with my teeth, I flipped open a single folded shred of paper and read its meager two lines.


I need to speak with you, Lieutenant.
Meet me at Anemoi Park by noon. Alone.


What the hell was this all about? A letter bearing the official seal of the Enclave with no stamp or return address, and its only contents were these cryptic instructions? Just reading it made me feel like I was party to a ransom or hostage situation. Shit, what time was it? Did I even have time to make it to Anemoi Park to conduct this meeting?

“Mom!” I bellowed, jamming the piece of paper into my jacket pocket. “Mom, what time is it!?”

“It’s a quarter to twelve, why?”

Shit, I had to move.

“I’ll explain later, Mom! I gotta jet!”

I bolted forward with all due haste, wrenching the front door open and giving it a forceful tug behind me, leaving the momentum to shut it for me while I concentrated on my takeoff. Kicking off from the springy cloud cover beneath my hooves, I unfurled my wings to full span and launched myself skyward with one great flap.

Anemoi Park was at the center of town, so getting there would take about five or ten minutes at a healthy clip. Plenty of time to get there for this strange summons.

Neighborhoods sprawled out in every direction beneath me, military ponies taking up residence with their families at a location that was more convenient to them. It was a lot easier to own property and raise a family a stone’s throw away from the Enclave’s biggest military base than it was to commute from one of the bigger cities further away, like Cyclonus or New Zephyr. As a result, a burgeoning little community had sprouted up on Neighvarro’s outskirts, and it tended to attract ponies with both families and money—those that were usually very high in the chain of command.

My thoughts shifted from the scenery back to the letter as I neared my destination. Was following through on this wise? What if it was somepony with an axe to grind setting me up to slit my throat? Then again, on the other hoof, the envelope couldn’t get any more official than the Enclave’s personal watermark, so there was an equally as likely chance that I’d wind up in deep shit if I didn’t show my face at the park.

No, for good or ill, I had to show up for this meeting. I couldn’t afford any more strikes against my record. I really couldn’t.

I neared Anemoi Park with about six or seven minutes to spare, and quickly made my descent. I chose the center of the small park as my landing site, drifting down to hover by a statue erected at its center before dropping back to the ground with a soft fwoomp. The statue beside me depicted the physical manifestation of a series of winds—north and south, east and west, crafted from pure cloud and shaped to exemplify the artist’s rendition of breezes, gusts and gale force winds. 

Personally, I thought the statue was a load of horseapples. Now, a statue of a famous pegasus like Commander Hurricane, or Daring Do, or even one of the many Wonderbolt captains would’ve looked a damn sight more impressive than some wispy little clouds meant to mimic winds. Sure would’ve spiced this boring little park up a great deal.

Up above me, I watched with some irritation as weatherponies dutifully placed stormy grey clouds swelling with rainwater into their designated areas. I guess rain was scheduled for today, after all. If I wound up drenched because of this stupid meeting, I was not going to be happy.

“Where the hell is this guy?” I whispered to myself, spinning in a slow circle to see if I could find somepony waiting to meet me, but the park was vacant. It was just me. “I swear to Polaris, if this is a joke I’m going to prank whoever did it so hard they’ll have lasting trauma.”

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” a voice said from behind me, and I immediately felt my mane crawl uncomfortably. His voice was modulated. Disguised. I spun to face the speaker, but found only blank space behind me. What the hell? “My apologies,” the unseen pony said, and my jaw dropped as a figure materialized before me. “You’ll have to forgive me, I do so live for theatrics.”

Being visible made the anonymous pony no less concealed, if you can believe that. Standing in front of me was a pony shrouded in a dark grey cloak, its hood pulled up over his head so that the only thing visible was his armored snout and the glint of orange eye lenses. He was wearing power armor, but like none I’d ever seen before. His snout was covered by a breather mask when it should’ve been exposed, and the telltale sign of a bladed scorpion tail sheath was completely absent. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was suddenly feeling very uneasy. Who the hell was this guy?

“I understand that it’s your day off, so I’ll be brief as a courtesy to you,” the armored pony said, his modulated voice ringing like cold steel. “This is a very simple matter in any event, so it shouldn’t take more than a moment.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” I said, my voice wavering and betraying my nerves. Great, show fear in front of the mysterious badass. Terrific job, Mach. “Who are you?”

“Who I am is irrelevant. This meeting concerns you, not me.”

“What do you want?” I repeated, though this time my voice had gained significant strength and confidence, bolstered through my irritation. Don’t let anypony tell you that a bad temper is a weakness.

“I have one question for you, Lieutenant, and one question only.” The armored pony’s tone grew forceful and demanding at this point. “I want you to think very carefully before you answer. It is not in your best interests to lie to me, and if you do, I will find out. Please believe me when I say that lying to me would be a very bad idea for you.”

“Cut the shit and get to the point,” I growled angrily. I hated being pushed around. Hated it. The fact that this guy was openly threatening me mere minutes after we’d met was winding me up like a clock. “Ask your stars-damned question.”

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Lieutenant?”

And the award for most vague question of the century goes to…

“Apart from telling you to fly headfirst into a brick wall, you mean?” I snapped.

“Was I too vague? Allow me to rephrase. Are there any… secrets… you may be keeping, that you’d like to get off your chest? Anything at all?”

My heart began to pound in my chest. Impossible. There was no way they’d found out. No way. Dad and I had been careful, we’d taken every precaution, we’d put so much planning into it in order to ensure we wouldn’t be caught. We’d been left alone for years, why would they be poking their noses into matters now? No, this had to be something else. They had to suspect me of something I hadn’t actually done, this was way beyond coincidence.

“No,” I said firmly and confidently, glaring right into the armored pony’s visor. My mysterious caller seemed taken aback by my answer, recoiling as if I'd struck him.

"Are... are you sure? There's nothing at all you'd like to tell me about before I go?" His tone seemed pleading, almost as if he was desperate to give me an out. But why...?

"We're done here," I stated, a tone of finality to my voice. "This seems an awful lot like an accusation. I don't appreciate being bullied while I'm off duty, least of all by a pony with no visible rank. If it happens again I'm going over your head. My dad is going to hear about this regardless, so you better hope you have some friends in high places."

He stood there silent for a long time, and we glared at each other for what felt like an eternity before he spoke again. “…Very well. You may hear from me again soon, or you may never see me again for as long as you live. I hope for both of our sakes that it is the latter.”

Without another word the pony flickered out of view, and I saw the clouds where he’d been standing rebound back into shape—physical evidence of his departure. I remained there in the center of the park for quite some time, sweating over the conversation I’d just had, even though it had been hilariously brief. By the time I managed to snap out of my daze, the first drops of rain were beginning to fall, and I shook my head to clear my glazed-over vision as one such drop landed right on my snout.

I didn’t know who that guy was, or what his agenda had been, but one thing was for certain—he scared the living piss out of me. I didn’t know why he was poking into my affairs, or if my concerns were even valid, but I was seriously hoping I hadn’t just fucked up big time by lying straight to his face.

“It can’t be that bad if he left without doing anything,” I muttered to myself as I turned to head home. “If I was in deep shit, I’d damn well know it.”

It only made sense, right?

...Right?
> Chapter 1: Routine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Chapter 1: Routine



Much like my day off, that fateful day had started out just like any other. The piercing sound of my clock’s alarm sliced through the boggy mire of sleep, dragging me kicking and screaming back to reality. Or groaning and swearing, at least.

I slapped my hoof blindly down on the end table, seizing the clock and throwing it clear across the room, where it hit the wall and immediately stopped blaring. Repeated impacts from previous mornings scored the wall and left lasting evidence of my seething hatred for being awoken. Still groggy, I slithered out of bed and groped blindly around for my flight jacket, tossing it casually over my shoulder on my way out into the hallway.

I made my way downstairs to the bathroom and paused in front of the closed door. I could hear trickling water from within, and in my drowsy state, my brain had to work overtime to decipher what such a thing meant. When the rusty gears finally ground to life, I grumbled incoherently and turned my back on the door, making my way down the hallway towards the house’s entrance. I’d just shower on base, I really didn’t feel like waiting for whoever was in there right now.

When I stepped outside, sprawled out beneath my hooves and stretching far further than even the eye could see was a solid, endless stretch of cloud. Nothing but stark white, billowing masses of fluffy water vapor all coalesced together to form an opaque blanket above the ground below. As pegasi—ponies of the sky—clouds were also our primary form of architecture, and nearly every building in the neighborhood around me was fashioned out of the poofy white stuff, save for a massive spire erected centuries ago that pierced straight up through the cloud cover at the center of base.

What lay beneath the cloud cover? Nothing but endless stretches of barren, desolate, inhospitable wasteland unfit for ponykind to live in.

That is, of course… unless you knew better.

I lifted off drunkenly and ascended until I was just high enough to avoid smashing my face into a wall. I made the short flight from my house to the base in a lethargic stupor, gliding as much as physically possible to reduce the amount of effort required. Once I’d passed into the airspace over the base, I swooped towards the building that housed all of the showers and restroom facilities, shouldering my way through to the front of the throng of ponies lined up and ready to start their morning. Officer’s privilege.

Having gone through more or less the same actions every day for years, it was no surprise when I found myself in the showers staring slack-jawed at the floor. My eyes slid out of focus as hot water ran downward through my short, crew cut mane to drip in streams from my muzzle. I stood there for some time, staring blankly at the steam curling up from the clouds beneath me as the water helped me to wake up. Reaching up to gently massage the little drizzling raincloud above me to cease its downpour, I ambled my way over to a sink like a zombie, producing my toothbrush as I approached.

I was halfway to completing step three of my four-step morning ritual when I heard somepony calling from behind me. Looking up from the sink, I glared at my reflection in the mirror, ears pulled back in utter contempt at the disturbance. Everypony knew better than to bother me until I’d completed step four—acquire coffee. I felt my anger fade a smidge when I peeked over my shoulder and identified the approaching pony. One of my squadmates—Duster. The laid-back country pegasus trotted up to me while I went back to brushing, a look of confusion come over his normally-dull features.

Duster was one of my oldest and dearest friends. We’d met at our first day of flight school, and he’d helped me out of a spot of trouble that I’d foolishly landed myself in. He had a beige coat and a sandy yellow mane, and could rarely be spotted without his straw hat perched atop his head. Displayed on his flank was an image of a little hoof-operated insecticide sprayer—his cutie mark. 

Duster was built a lot more powerfully than I was. His shoulders were broader and his muscles were far better defined from years of working on his family’s cloud farm. Our vastly different talents allowed us to cover each other’s weak points in our line of work, and for years now it had worked out relatively well for the two of us.

“LT!” the beige pegasus drawled lazily, “LT? What’s all this about, Hoss?” 

I looked over at him without turning, using the mirror to make eye contact and raising an eyebrow in confusion. I tried my best to mumble a question to the confused-looking pegasus, but it was lost in translation. Duster rolled his eyes and gave me a level look, and I realized I hadn’t yet taken the toothbrush out of my mouth. Spitting it out into the sink, I repeated myself.

A look of shock passed over Duster’s features, and he recoiled visibly. “Y’… y’ ain’t heard yet? They done gone an’ reassigned me an’ Solara! We’re stuck flyin’ with Sergeant Gleaming Nova t’night!”

My stomach lurched uncomfortably, and my heart nervously started beating faster. That wasn’t good. My squad had been with me since long before I’d been posted here, despite all the stupid things I’d done since gaining command. That happened to be a miracle in and of itself, because I had done a lot of stupid things since I’d gained command. Reckless and impulsive were at the very top of my service record.

Shaking my still-dripping-wet-self off as best I could, I quickly threw my flight jacket on—a garment made of a thin fabric that sported patches for my squadron and the Grand Pegasus Enclave on the sleeves—grabbing all of my things before trotting briskly to the door, Duster following close behind.

“I’m gonna go talk to the Colonel and get to the bottom of this,” I called over my shoulder. “You and Solara meet me at the mess in ten.”

“Yessir.” I saw Duster swallow nervously out of the corner of my eye as he peeled off to find Solara, the other pony under my command. Why had the Colonel picked now of all times to separate me from the rest of my crew? One thing was for sure—she was about to get an earful from me. 

I hung a left out of the showers and galloped off down the hallway, charging my way rudely through the busy troops making their way to their posts. Most deferred to me on my way by, quickly sidestepping and saluting with murmurs of ‘Sir,’ as I passed them by, but one or two superior officers that I brushed past a little too close for comfort paused to hurl a few curses my way when I didn’t stop to apologize. In all honesty, I really didn’t care. Being disciplined for my behavior was at the very bottom of my list of worries, and it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d landed myself in hot water for egregious disrespect. 

I haphazardly slid around a corner ahead of me, my hooves throwing up small plumes of cloud as they dug into the billowing floor beneath me, my speed leaving me completely unable to stop in time in order to avoid colliding with a pony trotting in the opposite direction. I inadvertently clipped his shoulder with my own as we closed, and the two of us stumbled awkwardly for a moment before we regained our hoofing. I turned to murmur a hurried apology, and he’d apparently been about to do the same, until recognition set in and we reacted as polar opposites.

Standing across from me was a buck with a chalk-white coat and a long, flowing candy-apple-red mane. He had a somewhat effeminate nature about him—not only because of his lithe build and the way he carried himself, but also because of his soft-spoken voice, which was completely devoid of the usual gruffness you’d expect from a stallion. His frigid glare bored into me as we exchanged glances, his eyes as dazzling as a pair of ice chips hewn from a bright blue glacier. Eyes that were practically undressing me as their owner glanced coyly at me.

"Pardon me, Handsome," the buck said with a flick of his massive bushy red tail, a hoof held tenderly to his breast. "I didn't see you coming. I sure won't mind watching you going, though."

"Air Raid..." I said, barely able to keep the exasperation out of my voice. He never passed up a chance to flirt when we bumped into each other, regardless of the fact that I wasn't into him.

"I see you're in a hurry, so I won't tie you down... much as I'd love to," Air Raid said, seductively biting his lower lip and fluttering his long eyelashes at me.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes. I didn’t rise to his bait. Instead I trotted on, my thoughts still primarily focused on the unsettling issue of my squaddies’ reassignment. From behind me, I heard a high-pitched wolf whistle as I turned my back on the white buck instead of offering a response. There was no doubt in my mind he was ogling my flank even as I walked away from him.

Air Raid and I had… complicated history.

I sped back up to a canter, being mindful this time of everypony around me to save myself the trouble of another awkward encounter. My destination wasn’t too much further away, and a moment later I was sliding to a stop outside of a door embossed with the words Base Commander. I paused just outside for a moment to compose myself before I raised my right forehoof and rapped it aggressively upon the door to announce my presence. Without waiting for a response, I seized the door handle in my hoof and took it upon myself to barge on in uninvited.

There were murmurs of indignation as the door crashed open, and three ponies in lab smocks whirled to glare angrily at the source of the disturbance. They were burdened with clipboards, rolls upon rolls of blueprints, documents, little scale models and pocket protectors overflowing with writing implements. I rolled my eyes. Weapons technicians. Eggheads. That figured.

Behind a large desk at the back of the room I could just barely make out the slight form of a jet-black mare peeking out from between two of the three ponies assembled in front of her. Colonel Astral—the Institute’s base commander. The colonel's normally flawlessly-ironed mane was starting to frizz, and the look in her eyes was haunted. I didn't need an explanation to know that these techs had been harrying her over something for quite some time. 

I'd arrived just in the nick of time, it seemed. Time to rescue the damsel with my charm.

"EGGHEADS OUT," I bellowed, trotting up and herding all the ponies together so I could shove them collectively. "Out, out, get the hell out. I have important business to discuss with the Colonel you've taken up enough time."

"Ma'am I simply must protest to this behavior!" One of the techs stated indignantly. "There are several important items on the docket, many of which you still have yet to--"

"I assure you the Lieutenant's actions will not be tolerated," Astral droned monotonously, clearly lacking any sort of sympathy for the group of ponies that had been haranguing her. "I'll see to his discipline and send for you at such a time as my schedule allows."

"You heard the lady, nerds!" I said as I shoved the still-rabbling group through the open door. "Now scram!"

Now that the immediate problem was taken care of my sour mood bubbled up to the surface once more. “What's the deal, Astral?” I demanded angrily as I strode up to her desk. “Do you have a problem with the way I'm running my squad? You could say it to my face instead of going behind my back,” I snapped, slamming my forehooves up onto her desk and leaning over towards her in a gesture of open confrontation. “Or are you too chicken?”

“I’d suggest that you watch your tone, Lieutenant,” Colonel Astral snapped back as she parroted my gesture with her own hooves, her brow furrowing in genuine displeasure. “So long as you are under my command, you will show me the proper respect, and I expect you to address me properly. Shall we try that again?”

“Do you have a problem with the way I'm running my squad... Ma’am?” I hissed between clenched teeth. Stars, she was always such a freakin’ brat.

“I’ll need you to be a little more specific than that, Lieutenant. We’re not all mind readers here.”

“Don't give me that, you know exactly what this is about!” I shouted. “You reassigned Solara and Duster, and now you’re going to tell me why!”

“I am not under any obligation to disclose that information to you, Lieutenant,” Astral scoffed, straightening out a stack of papers that I’d skewed. “That is on a need to know basis, and you do not need to know.”

“That's horseapples, and you know it,” I spat. “You’re just holding it over my head because you’re a nerdy little wiener and you're embarrassed that I just made an ass out of you in front of a bunch of eggheads. You're just being stubborn on purpose so you don't look bad!"

Astral’s disciplined manner dropped almost immediately, and her long bangs fell down to partially obscure her steel-grey eyes as she fired back her retort.

“Oh, that's rich coming from the pony who can’t hold down a promotion for longer than five minutes!” Astral snorted, slamming her forehooves down upon her desk indignantly. “Maybe if you spent more time tending to your duties instead of chasing tail and slacking off, you could learn to focus on your career and build up a reputation to be proud of! You’ve been NJPed, stripped of your rank and sent to more disciplinary hearings than anypony else in the Enclave’s entire two-hundred-year history! You’re a joke! Nopony can take you seriously!”

“Tell me Astral, what would you have me do? Sit behind a desk all day?” I asked in complete disbelief, leaning across Astral’s desk toward her. “It’s bad enough General Silverbolt is keeping me locked down in recon, and I am not going to waste my life pushing papers and giving orders. If I can’t join the Wonderbolts like I wanted to, then what else is there for me, Astral? We don’t do anything! The Enclave sits around all day and does nothing but watch from above when we could be doing something constructive!”

“Watch your mouth, Lieutenant,” Astral murmured, likewise leaning towards me. “What you say is dangerously close to treason.”

“What are you gonna do, rat on me?” I challenged, leaning further across the desk assertively. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? Go on and run to daddy, Astral. Go and tell him that mean ol’ Mach is planning to run away from home and go on a huge crusade to wipe out all the evil in the world. You know he always finds a way to give his little filly what she wants.”

“Take that back, you dumb jock!” Astral shrieked, closing the distance between us so that we were literally butting heads.

“Oh, touched a nerve, have I?” I teased, the corner of my mouth beginning to turn up in a wry grin. Reaching a hoof out, I began to scratch behind Astral’s right ear and speak as if I were talking to a pet. “Who’s a daddy’s girl? You are! You are! Oh, yes you are!”

That had evidently been the straw that broke the camel’s back. With an enraged snarl, Astral unfurled her wings and gave them a quick powerful flap. The mare soared over the desk and slammed into me like a cannonball, knocking me off-balance and sending the two of us tumbling to the floor.

I chuckled as the little mare pinned me to the floor and began furiously pounding her hooves against my chest, her weak blows completely painless even against my thin frame. I reached out and snagged one of her forelegs when she brought it down to hit me again and gave it a good hard yank, pulling her forward to tumble off of me and wrenching her leg behind her back while simultaneously forcing her to the floor.

“Lemme go, you freakin’ scarecrow!” Astral squealed as I pressed her face deeper into the floor.

“Say ‘uncle!’” I teased as Astral struggled against my hold, replying only with an angry growl. “Say it!”

Astral answered me with a hindleg, and I quickly backed off to avoid having my tender bits crushed by her hoof. This afforded her an avenue of escape, and she quickly scrambled back to her hooves, turning to face me and nickering indignantly, her lips pursed in a grumpy pout.

“C’mon, Astral,” I said with a knowing grin. “You know you’re not gonna win this one. You never win.”

That didn’t stop Astral from trying, though. I rolled my eyes and sighed as the little mare charged at me, grabbing her around the midriff when she closed the distance and tossing her to the floor. I wasn’t too far behind, immediately flopping down on top of the squirming mare so that she couldn’t escape. Astral had never been good at close-quarters-combat, and things usually went this way for her when she got scrappy. 

“Cutie horse!” I shouted with a wicked grin, thrusting a hoof into the swirling galaxy on Astral’s flank. She gasped in pain before slithering free of my grip like an eel, seizing one of my ears in her teeth and pulling—hard. Clenching my teeth and ignoring the pain despite my ear feeling like it was about to tear free of my head, I turned it around and managed to get her into a headlock when I heard the door open. Pausing mid-grapple to look up, I saw that a junior officer had peered into the office to see what the ruckus was all about. When she noticed the two of us on the floor her face went completely blank and she slowly withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

“Mmph!” Astral grunted into my fetlock.

“Huh?”

“Mmph!” I moved my foreleg so she could speak clearly. “Off! Get off me!”

I complied without any fuss, allowing Astral to roll free of my grip and scooting back a short distance. Astral promptly sat up, holding her nose high in the most dignified of poses, before glancing over at me. We stared at each other in silence for a while before Astral’s lips started to twitch and quaver, and I felt my own smile returning as I watched her fight it.

A moment later, we were both laughing uproariously.

“Oh stars, did you see their faces?” Astral choked out between bouts of laughter. “They didn’t know what to do! I thought I was gonna lose it when you called them nerds.” Astral reached a hoof up to wipe away a mirthful tear at the corner of her eye. “Thanks, Mach. Really. Those techs have been in my office for almost an hour yapping at me about acquiring funding for like, a million different projects.”

“Hey, what are brothers for?” I said, standing and offering a hoof out to help Astral up.

That’s right. If it hadn’t been obvious already, Astral was my sister. My little sister. I had five years on her and still she was higher up the chain of command than I was. She was a smart little mare, though. She worked her tail off to get to where she was today and deserved her position way more than I did mine. 

I looked Astral over as I helped her to her hooves, trying to get a read on her expression as she looked up at me. She was a cute kid... when she wasn't on the clock. Once her hooves touched down on base, she immediately adopted a very prim no-nonsense demeanor. The sudden lapse of conduct she'd had wasn't exactly out of character for her, but she did try and keep it private. Explaining our little wrestling match to her superiors would probably be mortifying for her.

“Aw, you wrinkled my jacket,” Astral murmured solemnly as she got to her hooves, straightening her dress uniform and returning to her position behind the desk.

While Astral opened a desk drawer and reached in for a brush to groom her messy platinum blonde mane, I stooped down to help pick up some of the things that had fallen to the floor when she’d tackled me, pausing when my hoof brushed against the framed picture of our father—General Silverbolt. 

The photo depicted a venerable old pony standing at attention, a peaked officer’s cap adorned with three silver stars tucked underneath a brutally scarred wing. Rows and rows of medal ribbons hung from the breast of his dress uniform, each military decoration telling a story in its own right. There was no warmth to be found in his eyes and the stern, wizened old silver-coated stallion’s expression glared coldly outward from within the frame. I returned his gaze with one of contempt before returning the picture to its place on the desk. 

“So seriously, why did you reassign my squad?”

Astral paused her brushing to look up at me. “All right, full disclosure? I didn’t. These orders came down from up over my head.”

“What?” I cocked my head to the side in utter bewilderment. “Astral, you’re the base commander. Why would anypony in high command take such interest in one of your recon squads? I test weapons for the eggheads, why the hell would that make me a target for reassignment?”

“I don’t know, Mach,” Astral said worriedly, storing her brush back in its place within her desk drawer. “I don’t like it. I think something bad is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon.”

A tingle ran up my spine and I swallowed nervously. “What makes you say that?”

“The brief on your reassignment.” Astral shuffled through some papers before procuring a stack of stapled documents and leafing through it. “You’re to be placed under the command of Gust and Gale, and they’re to keep you under constant surveillance during your run tonight. You’ve been labeled a potential security risk, and it only gets weirder from there. Dad received some strange orders as well. He’s been ordered back to base, grounded until further notice, and instructed to await further orders.” Astral bit her lip and averted her gaze for a moment before re-establishing eye contact. “Mach, they had him return with Midnight Run.”

“Wha…” My jaw dropped open. Midnight Run was a Raptor—a dragon-killer class cloudship under my father’s direct command. “Who has the authority to push Dad around? He’s a three-star general! Not only that, but why am I being considered as a possible security risk? I haven’t done anything! My worst offense was requisitioning military assets for recreational use, and that was years ago!”

“I don’t know, Mach. I don’t know. I just… I think it’s best if you just went about your duties today as normal. I’d also suggest that you follow orders to the letter, and avoid putting so much as one hoof out of line on your run tonight if you want high command to believe that you’re innocent.”

“But I am innocent, you know that! I have nothing to hide, and I haven’t even been charged with a crime!”

“Then you should be fine,” Astral said with a hopeful smile. “Just try to act… well… not like you.”

My ears drooped in annoyance. “Oh, gee thanks, Astral.”

“You’ve held my ear for long enough, Mach,” Astral said, bringing our conversation to an end. “I have work to get back to, and you still have a few things to attend to before your mission tonight. Chief Engineer Nocturne is waiting for you to report in for your weapon brief so that you might familiarize yourself with it before the test. As I understand it, it’s quite the departure from his usual repertoire, and he insists that it will be of particular interest to you.”

I sighed and pushed aside the storm of questions flooding my mind. “Will that be all, ma’am?”

“That will be all, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”

I snapped my hindhooves together and saluted her as was proper, before turning and leaving her office. Now deeply entrenched in thought, I dragged my hooves as I slowly made my way towards the mess hall, devoting just enough of my concentration into weaving around the ponies hurriedly rushing off to other parts of the base. This day was just getting worse and worse. Me, a potential security risk? Dad on total lockdown? What the hell was going on? 

Astral was right. Something big was about to go down, and whatever it was, odds were it wasn’t going to end very well for my family and I.
> Chapter 2: Duty and Obligation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Chapter 2: Duty and Obligation



I didn’t pull my gaze up from the floor until I arrived at the mess. It took me a moment to locate Duster, as the place was currently packed wall-to-wall with the breakfast rush. The line for food wrapped all the way around the room to end right by the door where I’d come in. 

Unwilling to risk being hounded by a superior officer for flying above the crowd, I scanned the long tables full of ponies trying to get a quick bite in before starting their morning duties. I didn’t have to look hard, and I found Duster at his usual spot—all the way at the back of the room nearest the north corner. Plopping down beside the burly pegasus, I allowed my head to slam into the surface of the table, and groaned melodramatically. 

“Where is Solara?” I mumbled into the shaped cloud.

I heard the smile spreading across his face as he spoke. “Y’ took a bit longer’n a spell, Hoss. She weren’t none too happy. Solara already blames ya fer losin’ command o’ our squad. Reckon she’s got a point. Ah’d watch out if Ah was you, pardner, she’s on the warpath.”

“But it’s not my fault!” I protested. “Astral said that I was reassigned because I’m a potential security risk, but I haven’t done anything! You can’t put this on me when we still don’t know what it is exactly that I’ve done to bring this about!”

Duster nudged me in the ribs, completely ignoring my plight in favor of his own personal enjoyment. “Hey. Hey, ‘member that time y’ pissed her off, an’ she beaned y’ with that hailstone the size o’ a melon?” He started to snicker as I rubbed the spot on the back of my head where I’d been hit by it. It had been months ago, but my head throbbed with the memory of it as if it had happened just yesterday. I’d forgotten we were supposed to go out to dinner once we were off duty, and I’d inadvertently stood her up to hit up the bar with Duster. Needless to say, she hadn’t been too happy about it.

“Or how ‘bout the last time, when she took a leaf out o’ yer own book, stole a thundercloud from the armory an’ used it t’ hit y’ with a bolt o’ lightnin’?” Duster guffawed boisterously, slamming his hoof repeatedly on the table, and I pulled my head up to glare at him. 

“Okay, no,” I growled defensively. “That’s not funny. I was in the infirmary for three days. She could’ve killed me that time!” I really didn’t think I’d deserved that one all too much. It had affected me much more than it had her. I’d gotten busted down from captain to second lieutenant for pissing the wrong bunch of ponies off, landing her, Duster and I at our current posting as a result.

“An’ yet,” Duster choked out between gasps of air as he moved a hoof up to straighten his straw hat, now askew, “Y’ still go out with her. Tell me now, LT, why is that?”  

I felt my ears start to burn, and I slugged him in the shoulder. Okay, that was tearing it just a bit. I was already having a crappy day as it was and he was only rubbing salt in the wound. I really didn't need to deal with Duster's playful jabbing at my love life's hiccups on top of all of that. 

“Lay off, you country bumpkin," I grumbled moodily. "I'm having a bad enough morning, I don't want to listen to you point out all the flaws in my relationship, thanks. You've never even had a marefriend anyway, who are you to talk?"

“This 'bumpkin' don't need a marefriend t' tell when yer in a poisonous relationship, Hoss. Solara's a right purdy li'l thing, but 'iffin y' ask me she's more trouble'n she's worth. Y' should find somepony nice who likes you fer you, an' not jus' fer yer body. Ah'm savin' muhself for the perfect filly. Reckon Ah'll know her the very minute Ah meet her."

"I suddenly feel compelled to make an incest joke, considering your upbringing," I said dryly.

Duster chuckled and shook his head from side to side. "Real funny, Hoss. Ah don’t belong on no farm though, y' know that. Ah was born t’ serve in the military like muh grandpappy before me.”

“I think this says something a bit different, buddy," I said, poking Duster on the flank. "The country life is calling, you can't escape it no matter how hard you try! Look at the hat you're always wearing! It's slowly taking you over like an alien parasite! Next thing you know, you'll be showing up on base in patched overalls and missing like four teeth."

"Lookie here feller, it ain’t the purdy li’l picture on yer flank that determines what yer good at. What really counts is what’s in here.” Duster gestured to his chest with a hoof. “Our cutie marks don’t determine our destinies, Hoss. Ah don’t much believe in fate. Fate’s jus’ an excuse ponies use when they ain’t got the motivation t’ try an’ achieve what it is their heart desires.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take to heart profound epiphanies from the pony who had to repeat power armor training three times in order to pass,” I sighed. Pushing myself up, I started towards the door. “It's an admirable sentiment, buddy. I really don't think there's any escaping our destinies, though."

The sound of Duster’s grumbling faded behind me as I made my way out of the mess, and I turned right once I squished my way past a group of troopers and cleared the door. Best to get my early morning duties taken care of before I had to clock in to work on the Enclave’s dime later tonight. Not that what I had to do this morning was strictly a duty. Rather, it was more of a formality. Besides, I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t love this part of my job.

Stepping out onto the base grounds, I paused just outside the door to take a moment to bask in the early morning glory. Closing my eyes in sheer pleasure as the warmth of the sun bathed my coat and feathers, I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air dampen the back of my throat as it rushed into my lungs. A balmy eighteen degrees to start out the morning, a light refreshing breeze blowing from south by southeast, and not a drop of rain scheduled to fall. My eyes snapped open. Oh, yeah. Today was going to be a good day. 

Unlike most of the pegasi around me, I started off at a trot in lieu of taking to the air, much as I loved flying. The clouds beneath my hooves were pliable but sturdy, settling gently under my weight and rebounding like elastic as I traipsed my way across the base grounds. I did notice that I tended to walk from place to place a lot more than your average pegasus, but I had my reasons… and they were pretty good ones. 

The base’s layout was reasonably simple and easy to remember, and I made my way south towards the massive tower on the way to my destination. Directly behind me at compass north was the command office—the building housing Astral’s office as well as the majority of the base’s administrative offices. To the east was the barracks, and to the west were the aircraft hangars. I glanced over at the hangars on my way by, meandering my way over when a pair of mechanics that were currently poring over the exposed innards of a sky-tank looked up to give me a friendly wave.

“Hey guys,” I said amiably as I approached, “How’s it going? Is that Astral’s sky-tank you’re working on?”

“Yes, sir,” one of the mechanics said, leaning out from an open hatch on the side of the armored aircraft, his coat spackled with grease and oil stains. “There were some problems with the pilot’s interface causing her to pull to the right, and the gatling laser turrets were due for recalibration, so we figured we’d take care of any other problems we could find while we were at it. Sir.”

I’d never been very mechanically-inclined. I could disassemble and reassemble an energy rifle like nopony’s business, but when it came to aircraft, my knowledge went only as far as basic specifications. I knew that the sky-tank was an airborne troop carrier, and that the late war-era models had been redesigned to include ventral troop bay doors and side-mounted gatling laser turrets for cover fire. Early war-era models had a rear-deploying troop bay and missile pods mounted on stubby little pylons on each side of the aircraft. A cursory glance revealed Astral’s personal sky-tank to be of the former variety.

“All right, I won’t tie you up any longer,” I said, turning to leave the mechanics to their work. “Take good care of that thing, huh? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to the Colonel.” My tone gained a noticeably forceful edge at this point, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the mechanics.

“Of course not, sir. We’ll have her flying as well as the day she rolled off the assembly line.”

Leaving the mechanics to their work, I set off once again towards my objective—the final building on base that had been obscured by the tower until I’d made my way around it. Inside was the weapons development lab, a sort of think-tank where all of the Enclave’s eggheads could come together to do whatever they could with the limited resources we had. To be fair, they’d put out quite a bit of amazing experimental technology, and I’d had more than my share of fun testing it out for them. 

As I approached the doors to the building, I hurriedly clipped my military ID to a fold on the front of my flight jacket to hasten the process of authorization checks, pausing to make certain that it was secure before I stepped into the lobby.

If there was one location on the base where security was tight, it was definitely the R&D lab. I was immediately subjected to a metal detector before I was allowed to go any further, dutifully emptying any metallic objects in my pockets into the stupid little tray. Upon being waved through and reclaiming my things, I then had to go through the rigamarole of a security clearance check, wherein my ID was confirmed and my visit logged into the system before I was allowed to pass into the inner depths of the research labs.

All this to have a chat with a pony. Sweet Cygnus.

Chief Engineer Nocturne—or Doc as I called him—was an eccentric pony to say the least, but he was hooves-down the smartest pony I’d ever met. Having worked so closely with him for a good few years, I’d been treated to more at-length discussions about weaponry than I could shake a stick at. Testing his experimental weapon prototypes was a job perk of mine, one I’d acquired after a good deal of wheedling my sister. If I couldn’t fly with the Wonderbolts like I’d always wanted to, I’d been damn sure I was going to find something else I wanted to do.

“Doc?” I called out as I made my way slowly through the engineer’s workplace, rubbernecking every which way as I did. Workbenches and sophisticated tools for developing magical energy weapons were placed against every wall and even in several spots at the center of the room, leaving very few narrow pathways for a pony to move about. “Yo, Doc!”

When Doc didn’t return my hail, I assumed he was off in one of the other labs, and allowed my attention to wander until he made his way back. It wasn’t long before my curious nature got the best of me, and I gravitated toward a cluttered workbench to investigate. Various parts of a magical energy rifle had been eviscerated and strewn all over its surface, and I recognized it instantly, even spread out into its composite parts.

The weapon parts in front of me were those of a Magical Energy Rifle, colloquially known as a Sunburst rifle among Enclave troops, due mainly to the distinct orange ray of magical energy emitted by the weapon. It was well known for needing little upkeep and providing a reliable amount of shots per microspark cell—about thirty or so before the power was completely depleted. Standard-issue. Bread and butter weapon of the Enclave military.

I was so engrossed in my task that I didn’t realize I had company until I was assaulted by a loud, trumpeting squawk.

“Honk!”

“Stars alive!” I shouted, shooting straight up into the air in fright before I looked downward and noticed the animal that had startled me. Once I’d realized that she wasn’t a threat, I drifted back down to land alongside her. “Jeez, Bella. You scared me half to death,” I sighed to the large bird standing beside me, my heart still hammering erratically against my ribcage. “Doc needs to put a bell on you or something.”

It wasn’t uncommon for ponies in the Enclave to have pets, but living in the sky narrowed the choices down to pretty much just birds. Bella was a magnificent, snowy white swan—a bird revered for its beauty and very well respected among Enclave ponies, due in no small part to its connection to the constellation of Cygnus the Swan. 

Looking down at Bella’s neck revealed a piece of jewelry draped around it, not unlike a collar. What she was wearing was far more important than a collar, however. It was a talisman enchanted with a cloudwalking spell, which enabled her to remain with Doc above the clouds instead of plunging straight through them, or forcing her to remain flying at all times.

Bella had grown quite used to having me around the lab, given my many visits to see Doc. Sneaking up to startle me had quickly become one of her quirky little habits, and I swore to Polaris that she derived amusement from it. There was a degree of intelligence there, one that I wouldn’t have expected to see from somepony’s pet bird. Bella was an odd duck. Er… swan.

“Mach!” a croaky-sounding old stallion called out, and I snapped my head up to see Doc trotting in through a door at the far end of the lab. “You’ve sure kept your old friend waiting, haven’t you? I was wondering when you’d get here! I’ve got something real exciting to show you today. Two things, in fact!”

“Oh, yeah?” I said, feeling my foalish grin spreading as the old engineer closed to grips and extended his hoof. We shook amiably and he clapped me heartily on the back, taking a firm grip of my shoulder and steering me towards a distant corner of the lab. “You’re riled up pretty good, Doc. I guess Astral wasn’t kidding when she said you had something really different this time.”

Doc was a bit long in the tooth, but hadn’t yet reached his twilight years. The old stallion had had a foggy grey coat so bright in hue that it could be mistaken for white at a glance. Doc’s mane was really something else, though. Shocks of bright white hair stuck out in every which way, giving the old pony the appearance of having been struck by a bolt of lightning sometime in his youth. A little pair of pince-nez were always perched upon his muzzle, and his cutie mark depicted a strange triad of glowing bars set in a Y-shape. 

I’d never really been able to figure out what it actually meant.

I followed eagerly as Doc guided me deeper into the lab, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as my excitement grew. Bella tottered along beside us, her tail feathers swishing back and forth as she waddled after her owner like a little chick after its mother. When at last we stepped up to the workbench, I felt my curiosity turn to confusion. What I was looking at didn’t appear to be a weapon in the slightest—although, granted, it was covered by a sheet.

“Well,” Doc said, turning to beam fiercely at me. “Here it is, Mach.” With a grand gesture, the old weapons engineer swept the sheet off of the table and I frowned down at the object that had been concealed beneath it. What the hell was it?

The device was rather simple in design. Its largest portion was vaguely octagonal insomuch that it had eight sides, but it had been stretched out to odd proportions. It looked more now like an egg comprised of sharp, hard angles instead of the familiar geometric shape. A bulky antenna that looked retractable protruded from the device’s other side, and a strange little arm ran perpendicular to the main casing, with a tiny little razor-thin screen mounted directly to its bottom edge.

“What the hell is this, Doc?” I said as I furrowed my brow at the strange device and scratched absently at the back of my head. “I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

Doc chuckled warmly, and reached over to a nearby scrap metal bin to produce a different device that looked as though it had weathered a bomb detonation. “Do you recognize this, Mach?”

I squinted at the rent piece of metal. It took a moment, as it looked quite different from the ones I’d seen before, but it came to me eventually. “Yeah, that’s a PipBuck… or what’s left of it, anyway.”

“Just so!” Doc exclaimed suddenly, causing me to jump in surprise. “Just as this is a PipBuck, so too is this device on the workbench.”

“That’s a PipBuck? C’mon Doc, give me some credit. I may not be the brightest bulb, but I wasn’t born yesterday, either.”

“Have I ever led you astray before, Mach?” Doc said as he scooped up the device in a hoof. “Here, try it on. You’ll see.”

Doc approached me and lifted the device up towards my head, and I eyed him warily while he set to placing it on me. He turned it aside in his hoof and I saw a small brace with a hole big enough to fit something through protruding from the inside edge of the device’s casing. As Doc lifted it up, I soon realized that the hole was for my ear, which I also noted the device’s odd shape vaguely resembled. The brace sat upon my head, using my ear to keep it steady, while the device itself fit snug up against my ear, and the little arm with the screen hung just in front of my right eye, like a sort of gunsight or display screen.

“Ohh, I get it,” I said in sudden understanding. “It’s sort of like a hi-tech monocle, right? At least as far as the design is concerned.”

“It’s a little more complex than that, my young friend,” Doc replied, and I felt a gentle tug as he flipped a switch.

I nearly had a panic attack. The instant Doc powered the device up, the little screen burned to life like a tiny little video screen, but that wasn’t all. Twin displays at the very bottom of my peripheral vision magicked into existence, and a far more complicated display than either of them popped up directly at the center. I recognized most of the bits on the center display—readings like altitude and airspeed as well as a horizon line, compass direction, and a bank indicator. Where had I seen these displays before?

“Whoa, Doc… what the hell is all of this?” I said in utter shock, waving my hoof in front of my face to see if I could disrupt any of the displays. They remained unfazed, and moved with me every time I turned my head. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Well, Mach, like I said—it’s a PipBuck. It’s not exactly your bog-standard PipBuck, though. I’ve done some tinkering—”

“Of course you have,” I said with a grin.

“—Some tinkering,” Doc continued unabashed, “With its primary components. By now you’ll have noticed that the E.F.S. spell matrix has been swapped out with a matrix from an Enclave power armor suit, hence the flight interface at the center of your vision.”

So that’s why it seemed so familiar. The Eyes-Forward-Sparkle systems in Enclave power armor were geared towards aerial combat instead of ground warfare—the better to suit our airborne race and its fighting style.

“In addition, I have also managed to outfit it with matrices taken from a set of night vision goggles as well as a wideband communications device, making it a useful tool for intercepting and listening in on radio transmissions. To manage this however, I’ve had to remove both the radio and flashlight functions. All other functions—Stable-Tec Assisted Targeting System, item-sorting spells, automap, et cetera—remain intact, I’m happy to say.

“I designed it as a lightweight alternative to the amazingly useful everyday tool that is the PipBuck, and repurposed it to fit the needs of your modern Enclave trooper. I call it… the ScoutBuck,” Doc finished proudly.

While Doc gave me the rundown, I fiddled with a trio of switches on the side of the device, cycling through the various menus to explore their functions. One revealed a sort of status screen showing a happy little cartoon pegasus in perfect health, another showed the contents of my pockets—a mere twenty bits—and the final one gave me a list of various communications frequencies to which I could listen in on. Oddly, for such an advanced piece of technology, the displays were entirely in black and white, and I said as much to Doc.

The old stallion grimaced. “Ah... well, the best I could get my hooves on was an older model PipBuck—a 2000. I hear Stable-Tec retired them some time ago, and all the stable ponies are probably using the more advanced PipBuck 3000 by now. None of the salvage teams have turned up any of the newer PipBucks. Requisitioning that one for my own use was a nightmare in paperwork alone, and it’s an outdated piece of technology.”

“Is the flight HUD always active?” I asked as I experimentally turned my head and watched the horizon line remain level while everything else tilted around it. “While it would be undeniably useful in air combat, it’s making everything a little hard to see right now.”

“It’s altitude-sensitive,” Doc explained. “It appears once you’re in the air, but if you’re on the ground it fades out to make navigation and everyday tasks less difficult. Being as far above the ground as we are, it’ll be active the whole time.” Upon noticing my look of mild disappointment, Doc hastily added, “But the display can be manually toggled off at any time.”

Doc reached over to flip another switch, and the complex flight interface at the center of my vision disappeared, leaving only a crosshair and the indicators at the very bottom of my peripheral vision. I let out a long, low whistle, marveling at the device’s potential.

“Jeez Doc, this thing must’ve cost the Enclave a fortune. Are they going to become standard-issue? Hell, will there be de-militarized models available to the public? If this is something the stable ponies use in their day-to-day lives, I can imagine it working out just as well for our people.”

“Oh, no,” Doc chuckled, shaking his head back and forth. “No, I wasn’t contracted to develop this. I made it in my spare time. It’s a gift. To you, Mach. For helping me test all of my weapon prototypes. You’re far and away the best field tester a pony could ask for.”

“Oh… Doc, I don’t know if I can—”

“Nonsense!” Doc interrupted, turning his back on me and walking in the opposite direction. “I refuse to take no for an answer! I have no use for it, and you can make the most out of its functions on your reconnaissance flights. Hurry now, we’ve wasted enough time. I’ve still got to show you the new weapon prototype!”

My reply died on my tongue, and I immediately took off after Doc, following him as he made his way back to the door he’d entered his lab from. With a flap of her impressive wings, Bella fluttered up and perched herself upon Doc’s ginormous hair, waggling her tailfeathers primly as she settled down upon his head for the ride. Such a prima donna, that one.

I had no idea what was behind the door Doc was leading me to. I’d never been anywhere but inside his lab before, and any weapons testing I did was merely field testing. Doc always made sure to check and double check his work before issuing it to me for proper field testing. My job was to determine the viability of prototypes in uncontrolled environments, thus gathering the necessary data for the proper higher-ups to determine whether the weapons in question would be considered for production. The old engineer’s job was simply to make sure they didn’t blow up in my face.

When I followed him into the room beyond, how he did his pre-emptive testing became quite clear.

We’d walked straight into the next closest thing to a firing range. It was a long, narrow corridor that had a rail attached to the ceiling—a track for hanging targets. Beyond that, there wasn’t all that much to it. Out at the far end of the range was what appeared to be a very large gem in a custom housing, and immediately ahead of us was the weapon Doc had undoubtedly been working on.

“Well… here it is, Mach,” Doc said, gesturing to the weapon with a flourish as we stepped up to it. “It’s not the most complex thing I’ve ever designed, but it was quite the departure from what I’m used to. I really had to step outside of my comfort zone with this one.”

The weapon in question was just shy of twice a Sunburst rifle’s length, and a whole lot bulkier. To start, the receiver was nothing like what I was used to. There was no ejection port for spent shell casings found on ballistic weapons, and likewise no access panel for the calibration of delicate energy weapon components. Even the barrel was unlike anything I’d ever seen. A series of odd disc-shaped parts surrounded its length at regular intervals, and extended nearly all the way to the muzzle. Atop the receiver was what appeared to be a targeting optic, and I peered into it to find that it wasn’t a scope as I’d thought.

“Stars alive, Doc! What is it?”

“This, my friend,” the old engineer pony said with another fierce grin of pride, “Is what I like to call a coilgun. I’ve been contracted to develop a mass-produced equivalent to Colonel Autumn Leaf’s Star Blaster. The goal is to issue our troopers a weapon that will overcome any foe—even the exceptionally deadly alicorns.”

I felt my mane crawl in discomfort. I’d fought alicorns once in the past. Once. If it hadn’t been for my squad, I’d have been slaughtered outright. If this coilgun could do what Doc hoped it could do, then any threat they posed would soon be a thing of the past.

“You’ve got my ear, Doc. What do I need to know?”

“I’ll skip the extensive details, because I want you awake long enough to actually absorb the pertinent information,” Doc jabbed playfully. “The coilgun is a hybrid firearm—which is to say, the components are equally balanced between ballistic and magical energy. The weapon is loaded with a solid slug of a specialized material, which is then propelled by a series of electromagnetic fields shrouding the barrel that accelerate it to incredibly high velocities. We’re hoping that the slug’s material combined with the high velocity of the shot will bypass the alicorns’ shields entirely.”

I held a hoof up thoughtfully to my chin. “You said it was hybrid? What does it use for power?”

Doc gestured to a magazine attached to the weapon’s side, and an empty socket on the opposite side.

“The coilgun's slugs are stored in this magazine here, which hold a total of up to five. The gun also requires one microspark cell per shot to magnetize the round's ferrous core and charge the electromagnet capacitors. I’m still working on the power efficiency, but as it is a prototype, these things will change for the production model.”

I hummed and scratched at my chin. “A whole microspark cell, huh? Those aren’t hard at all to come by, but having to swap cells after every shot is deadly on a modern battlefield. What about operating it? It’s the size of a sniper rifle, and all of those components must make it rather heavy. I also noticed that this device mounted on top isn’t a scope of any kind.”

“You have an eye for details, Mach,” Doc said, rocking back and forth on his tippy hooves eccentrically. “The coilgun does not come standard with a bit or hoof trigger. This is a weapon intended solely for battle saddle use. As such, the optic I’ve outfitted it with links up directly with the onboard E.F.S. systems in power armor, or in your case—the ScoutBuck.”

“Perfect,” I stated simply. “I’m most proficient with my battle saddle, so I prefer that anyway. On a semi-related note, how confident are you that this coilgun of yours is going to do exactly what you want it to do, Doc? Nothing shy of high-yield explosives or anti-materiel rifles have been purported to successfully cut through alicorn shields. Even then, it’s iffy.”

“That is what I aim to find out right now, Mach,” Doc said, turning so that he was facing downrange. “As you can see, at the far end of the testing range I’ve set up one of our standard energy barrier projection gems. Similar devices protect vital targets like Neighvarro Tower, but this one projects a field far less powerful than those.

“Now if my calculations are correct,” Doc said, slapping his hoof down on a button affixed to the wall nearby, “Once the capacitors on this rifle reach full charge, you’re going to see some serious shit.”

A bright blue dome flickered into life around the gem in the distance, fading lazily in and out of visibility as the currents of magic surged through it. Doc quickly began bustling around the coilgun, popping a nearby microspark cell into the receptacle on the weapon’s left side, and checking to make sure the magazine was loaded and secure. Reaching a hoof up to pull down the lab goggles upon his forehead elicited an indignant squawk from Bella as she was disturbed. I watched eagerly as Doc picked up a trigger he’d hardwired into the weapon in lieu of a battle saddle.

I waited with bated breath as Doc bit down on the trigger… and nothing happened.

“Damn!” Doc exclaimed, spitting the trigger back out onto the table. “Damn, damn!”

“Hey, relax Doc,” I encouraged the old pony as he produced a small screwdriver and began attacking the coilgun, his brow furrowed in deep thought. I could practically see the gears turning, and he was probably running through multiple problem scenarios in the time it was taking him to gain access to the weapon’s vital parts. “They can’t all be perfect on the first shot. You’ll get it.”

“I don’t really have much time to troubleshoot, Mach,” Doc mumbled around his screwdriver, jerking back when a side panel popped free and exposed the innards of the coilgun. “I need this operational by tonight if you’re to run field tests for me. I’d love to keep chatting, but I really need to buckle down and get to the source of this issue before your flight. In fact, it’s entirely likely that the only reason you’ve made it this far without sustaining serious injury is precisely because I’ve been so careful.”

I’d never really thought about it that way before. In retrospect, it made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Something could have gone wrong on any one of several occasions, and I could’ve died because of it. Hindsight was twenty-twenty though, as they say. 

I gave Doc a reassuring pat on the shoulder as I began to see myself out. “Well, let me get out of your mane, then. I’ve still got a while yet before I’m on the clock, I may as well go find something to kill time.”

Doc grumbled an unintelligible response as I turned to leave, passing back through his lab and the staggering amount of checkpoints before emerging once again into daylight. I paused just outside for a moment to contemplate my options, noting that the ScoutBuck was showing all of the ponies on the base as little white blips on the E.F.S.’s compass. If I remembered the facts from my Airpony’s Manual correctly, the E.F.S. was a friend-foe system. So white blips were non-hostiles? What color would hostile targets be on this relic, grey?

While I was busy chuckling at my own joke, a pair of hooves slipped past my head to cover my eyes, and a mare’s voice spoke from behind me.

“Guess who?”

Uh-oh. I knew that voice. I tried to take off, but she had me down and pinned before I’d even made it a centimeter off the clouds. “Uh… hi, Solara,” I grinned sheepishly up at the mare sitting on my chest.

Though it was mostly covered by her flight barding, Solara had the most blindingly bright orange coat I’d ever seen on a pony. Looking at her was like staring at the surface of the very sun itself. Her wine-red mane was just as much an exemplification of her personality as it was Solara turning her nose up at military regs. It was long, wild, and just as untamed as she was—windswept and blown out in every direction. 

Her cutie mark was a pair of binoculars, and it suited her well. She had the best eyesight out of anypony I'd ever met. Perhaps Solara's most distinguishing characteristic, however, were the intricate patterns of the feathers on her wings. Comprised of multiple hues of oranges, yellows and reds, Solara's wings looked as if they were made of purest, shimmering flame. I'd never seen anything quite like it before. 

As we stared at each other, I remembered the last two times I’d pissed Solara off, which made me none too eager to see her at the moment. Sweat was starting to bead on my forehead as we sat there in awkward silence, and my mind raced with the possibilities she could be planning to exact her wrathful vengeance upon me. It was quite the shock when she broke into her cute lopsided grin and clambered off of me, offering me a hoof up.

“Jeez, calm down,” the fiery orange mare snorted. “I’m not mad at you, dummy. Duster was just riling you up, trying to make you nervous. You know how he is.”

Oh. Oh, thank the stars. 

“Well, uh, you can never be too careful, right?” I chuckled nervously, fighting the impulse to wipe my brow in relief. I thought I’d have been a goner after that incident with the thundercloud. “There’s not much that can top being shocked by lightning.”

“Look,” Solara said mutedly, leaning in close, her tone serious. “I heard through the grapevine that Doc’s latest prototype is supposed to be an alicorn-killer. You’re not actually going to be testing it on them, are you? You know how dangerous they are.”

“Won’t know until tonight what my mission is,” I sighed. “Doc’s scrambling to work out some last-minute bugs, so I really hope that I’m not expected to live test it against an alicorn. Where are you and Duster headed tonight, by the way? Y’know, since… you were reassigned to Nova and all.”

Solara rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry in response. “Command’s got us headed out to do the routine flyover of Fillydelphia. See what they’ve been up to down there. You know, the usual bullshit."

“Why?” I scoffed disdainfully. “Fillydelphia has three things—factories, radiation, and griffon mercenaries. That much hasn’t changed for years, and there’s no reason to suspect otherwise. The griffons have gotten wise, you know. They spot us when we do our runs. We’re sport to them, Solara. If they see you, they’ll try to shoot you down just for fun.”

“Fun? Shooting at us isn’t fun for them, it’s their way of getting back at us for the war on their people. I’ll show you what the definition of fun is, stud,” Solara purred, sidling up to me. I stepped back a hoof as she approached. 

“Hey, any other day I’d step in and rock your world, but I’m potentially in some real deep shit already, and I need to keep on our superiors’ good side. We’ve already been busted for fraternization more times than I can count and—mmph!”

My protests were quickly silenced as Solara pressed her lips to mine and threw her forehooves around my neck, pushing me back aggressively so that I was forced to sit. I responded in kind to her advances as she sat on my lap and wrapped her hindlegs around my waist, tenderly reaching a hoof up to caress her wild mane and neck, pulling her harder into me. It wasn’t long before I had to separate from her, and I leaned back to stare into her gorgeous, ravenously hungry golden eyes. 

Something was off about that, but it was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.

“We’re gonna—get caught,” I panted as I tried to catch my breath. “Let’s take this someplace—a little more—private.” 

Solara grinned wickedly and immediately seized my hoof in hers, taking flight and pulling me straight towards the hangar. I hastened to keep up, noting rather pointedly that the mechanics had finished their maintenance on Astral’s sky-tank, leaving the hangar devoid of occupants. Solara made a beeline for the open troop bay, and slammed the doors shut after she’d dragged me inside.

“Well, now that I’ve got you safely away from prying eyes…” Solara said in a deep, throaty rasp, grabbing ahold of me and throwing me roughly into a bench seat in the troop bay. “I think it’s time I had my way with you.”

Solara swooped over and perched herself upon my lap once more, pressing her muzzle to mine so forcefully my head hit the Sky-tank’s bulkhead with an audible gonging noise. Like always, I easily fell prey to her advances, and I cupped two gratuitous hooffulls of her flank, eliciting a gasp followed by an excited, shrieking giggle from the bawdy little mare. Why bother fighting her at this point? I still had a few hours to kill, and there was no way anypony would possibly see us canned up in Astral’s personal Sky-tank.

What could go wrong?
> Chapter 3: Descent
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Chapter 3: Descent



Evidently, we’d fallen asleep sometime after our wild shenanigans. Peeling one eye open, I leaned carefully upward so as not to disturb Solara, and peered out of the thin slit of the Sky-tank’s cockpit windscreen to see that night had fallen. Panic tore through my gut when I noticed the time on the ScoutBuck’s clock, and I quickly shot bolt-upright, toppling Solara unceremoniously off of me. 

“Oh, shit! I’m late for the briefing!”

I took only a moment to wake Solara, rapidly explaining the situation to her before launching myself out of the Sky-tank at top speed towards the command office. Throwing base regs to the wind, I flew through the corridors as well, much to the dismay of the night crew ponies shuffling hither and yon as they tended to their duties.

Slamming open the door to the briefing room, I skidded abruptly to a halt in my hurry, my hoof immediately slapping up to my forehead in a salute. “I apologize for my tardiness, Ma’am! I lost track of time!” 

The Wind-Twins—Gust and Gale—both turned to regard me with looks of disgust. It wasn’t too hard to tell them apart, twins though they were. They were both a light grey with matching dark blue eyes, but Gale, the older of the two—by minutes, as her sister constantly pointed out—wore her charcoal-grey mane tied up in a bun while her younger sister had hers woven into a long braid. My eyes flicked to the captain’s bars at their necks, and I swallowed nervously, holding my salute while they stared me down. 

“You’re late, Lieutenant,” Gale snarled angrily. “This briefing was to start ten minutes ago.”

“I know, Ma’am, and I apologize for that. I was, uh… I was testing out the new piece of gear Doc issued me.” I lied through my teeth, but there was a chance they’d buy it. Besides, it was still a half-truth. I had spent a good deal of time in Doc’s lab before Solara had tracked me down, after all.

“Is that so?” Gale cocked an eyebrow, her voice still dripping with venom. “It’s a stars-awful excuse, but I guess it’ll have to do.” At long last she returned the salute, and I allowed my hoof to drop in relief.

“I imagine you got an idea of our mission from Chief Engineer Nocturne, but allow me to elaborate. Command has ordered us to test the effectiveness of the prototype coilgun on alicorn shields. In order to do this, we’ll be flying out to the ruins of Canterlot. Not only will they be easier to locate, but effects of the Pink Cloud make the resident alicorns far less dangerous than the ones roaming free around the Wasteland.” 

I felt my blood run cold, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. Memories of nearly being slaughtered by alicorn magic flooded through my mind at the mere mention of Canterlot. 

“C-Canterlot?” I stammered. “With all due respect, Captain, that’s a suicide mission. I’ve been to Canterlot, and the alicorns there are no less deadly than anywhere else. In fact, they’re probably more deadly, simply because of how much of a deathtrap that place has become. Even if Doc works out all of the coilgun’s kinks, we’ll probably all wind up dead just trying to find a target to test it on!”

“If you have a problem with our orders, Lieutenant, you may take it up with Command,” Gale spat bitterly. “Or shall I consider this an act of disobedience and insubordination? You’re already on thin ice, it would be a shame if somepony were to… condemn you to the frigid depths below because you couldn’t do something as simple as following your orders.”

“Just give me the stars-damned thing so we can get this mission underway,” I snapped through clenched teeth. “The sooner we get it over with, the better.”

“I’m glad you saw reason,” Gale said curtly, before raising her voice. “Chief Engineer! You may enter now, if you please!”

I whirled around when I heard the door open behind me, and watched as Doc strolled through the door towards me. Nipping at the old pony’s heels was one of his weapon techs, laden with the burden of the coilgun, which had been mounted to a battle saddle and was riding loosely upon his back.

“Please tell me you worked out those issues, Doc,” I damn near pleaded as the two ponies approached me with the weapon and set to outfitting me with it. “Nopony told me that I’d actually be testing it against alicorns, in what is probably the most lethal place on the surface, no less.”

“I wasn’t able to do as much testing as I’d have liked, but I was able to work out the primary issue,” Doc assured me as his assistant placed the saddle on my back, and they began adjusting the bridle and harness straps. “You should be fine, just be sure that you exercise a modicum of common sense.”

Gust and Gale started snickering quietly in the background, but they were silenced by a dark glare from Doc.

“Now then, you should be ready to go,” Doc said, giving the saddle a firm tug to make certain it was secure. “I’ve linked the trigger to your battle saddle’s bit, and your ScoutBuck should recognize the proprietary targeting suite I developed for it.”

I flicked an eye over to the display screen and noticed that my inventory display had been replaced entirely with the most needlessly complicated reticule I’d ever seen. 

“Is this reticule really necessary with the crosshair the E.F.S. is giving me? That should work perfectly fine for the task, shouldn’t it?”

“The reticule is there for a reason, Mach,” Doc chuckled warmly. “The ScoutBuck’s coilgun targeting suite is designed to work hoof-in-hoof with the optic I’ve mounted to it. If need be, you can treat it as a long-range markspony or sniper rifle. Now, believe me, considering the significant threat your targets pose, you don’t want to be getting any closer than you have to be!”

I glared flatly at Doc while he reached for a strap hanging from his neck. “Here, I’ve gathered all of the magazines I’ve managed to put together thus far. You’ll have to obtain microspark cells from the armorer while your commanding officers are gearing up, though. I’m afraid I haven’t any on my person.”

“Thanks, Doc.” I took the satchel he offered to me, loaded with maybe ten magazines at the most, and slung it around my own neck. “Look, considering how serious this mission really is, I’d just like to take a second to say that I really appreciate what you’ve done for me all these years. You’ve made life a little less boring for me, and testing out all your little toys has been fun.”

Doc stomped a hoof on the clouds and nickered crossly. “Stop your nonsense, Mach. You’ve been through some pretty bad scrapes before—this is just another day on the job. You come back alive, and with my data and weapon intact, or you’ll have earned my wrath. Believe me, you don’t want to earn my wrath,” he said, the light glinting ominously off of his glasses as he glared at me.

“All right, then,” I said, gripping his hoof one more time for a shake, before heading out of the briefing room behind the twins. We stopped briefly at the armory so that they could outfit with weapons and I could obtain microspark cells for the coilgun. While the twins armed themselves with a pair of Sunburst rifles apiece, I crammed as many microspark cells as I could into the ammo pouch I had hanging from my battle saddle on the side opposite the coilgun.

Loaded for bear, we stepped out of the armory and into the brisk night sky, strapped head to hoof with death dealing weaponry and ammunition. I paused for a moment to look wistfully up at the stars twinkling in the night sky before turning my focus to the full moon. Ponies said that once upon a time, there had been a series of craters on the moon’s surface that formed a mare’s head, but whether or not that was true was a mystery. No such formation could be found on the moon these days, and I had damn good eyesight.

“Lieutenant!” Gale snapped, jerking me out of my trance. “We’re on the clock now! Get a move on, trooper!”

I tilted my head back to see the twins hovering idle just above me, waiting while I stood there stargazing like a dope. “Well,” I sighed, unfurling my wings. “Let’s go make some really bad life choices.”


*        *        *


We flew in a loose formation—Gust in the lead and to the left, Gale in between and to my right, and me bringing up the rear, dead center. It was a long flight out to Canterlot, and our predesignated flight path took us there by way of Ponyville, hitting several smaller waypoints in between. With absolutely no rapport between my commanding officers and myself, such a long flight gave me a considerable amount of time to kill on the way, so I fell back on the only thing I had to keep myself entertained.

I pawed blindly at the ScoutBuck’s many switches, and managed to activate the night vision spell with the intention of amusing myself by scanning the desolate, barren wasteland below us. There were twinkling lights of small towns and encampments—ponies trying their best to eke out a living on the cards fate had dealt them. Here and there I spotted a campfire where a group of travelers had settled down for the night, and even some caravans were still on the move, trying to get to their next stop as quickly as possible, so as not to be hit by raiders or bandits.

Ugh… Every time I laid eyes on it I felt my lip curling in disgust. I’d seen a lot in my days of flying recon, and it had gotten so tiresome by this point that I could easily turn a blind eye. It was deplorable the way those dirt-munchers lived down there. They made their homes and businesses out of war-torn ruins or hastily erected shanties. With alarming frequency I watched as they killed each other for food or water, or for money and weapons. Their savagery made me physically sick to my stomach.

How could they act so uncivilized? Sure the surfacers had no ruling body anymore, but us pegasi got along just fine. We'd overcome the chaos of war very quickly after it had ended. My forefathers had banded together to form the Grand Pegasus Enclave, establishing order and casting out those who sympathized with the surface ponies and attempted to sow dissent. If we could do it, why couldn't they? The answer was simple—they weren't trying hard enough. The surface ponies had lost their way and would rather squabble over resources than band together to overcome their dire situation. 

I sighed and shook my head. Pathetic, the lot of them. 

A tinny beep in my ear drew my attention to the ScoutBuck. Its automap function had been notifying me each time we passed a location of significance, and sudden movement caught my eye as we started to pass through the airspace over the ruins of Ponyville. I slowed to hover and squint down at the small town beneath me, focusing my attention on a small scuffle that had broken out by a bridge.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” The twins had noticed I was no longer in formation, and had swept around to hover nearby. I held up a hoof for silence and gestured towards the disturbance.

It looked to be a fight between raiders and slavers, but that wasn’t what had caught my eye. What had made me stop were the two ponies the slavers had been transporting. Both were unicorns, but one of them was wearing what I recognized as Stable-Tec utility barding with a number 2 on the back. She had to have been fresh out of the stable. Her barding was spotless, and had no rips or tears in it. 

Crossing my forelegs, I leaned back to watch the scene unfold with casual interest. It wasn't every day you saw a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed stable pony get her first reality check. To my surprise, I felt an errant pang of pity reverberate through my chest. This poor kid had no idea what she’d just gotten herself into.

I raised a single eyebrow in surprise as the little unicorn undid her shackles in a deft display of telekinetic prowess. She immediately went to work on her fellow captive’s bindings before she was interrupted by a pair of raiders crossing the bridge. My wide-eyed gaze faded, giving way to a grim frown. It was a quiet night, and our wings were deathly silent. All I had to do was listen, and their voices carried all the way up to where we hovered idle.

“Looks like we got ourselves some prizes!” One of the raiders—another unicorn—exclaimed in glee as she approached.

“Help us?” Said the little stable pony meekly. The poor kid sounded scared out of her gourd, and to be fair, she had every right to be. Raiders were certifiably insane. You could never predict what they’d do next, but there was one thing you could always count on—their penchant for violence. It was unquenchable and knew no bounds.

“Oh, I’ll help myself to you, all right!” The raider mare shrieked, and she pivoted to deliver a swift buck from her hindlegs to the innocent little stable pony.

One of the twins scoffed. Gust, I realized, once she spoke in a hushed whisper. "Tch, look at him. He's probably thinking about helping the pathetic little dirt ponies. Oh boo-hoo, the poor widdle stable pony is gonna get her first taste of the Wasteland. "

"That'd be just like him, wouldn't it?" Gale whispered back. "Putting that Wasteland scum over his fellow pegasi. That fiasco last year is proof positive he's a sympathizer."

"Brand him and be done with him, I say," Gust said. "Should've done it the second he came back from that mission. If he didn't have so many high-ranking family members, I'm sure he would've been cast out years ago. What use is a chain of command when you do whatever you want anyway? Must be nice to live such a cushy, privileged life. The rest of us actually have to work for a living."

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" I snarled, whirling around to face the sisters. Below us, the raiders had now immobilized the shackled unicorn and were trying to blast his hooves off with a shotgun. “I am sick and tired of you two giving me and my family all kinds of shit! My allegiance belongs to the Enclave, and it always has! If I wanted to leave to go rough it with a bunch of ground pounders, I would've done it long before I even joined the military!"

“You’re out of line, Lieutenant," Gale said with a sickly sweet smile. "Though we all know that doesn't matter to you in the slightest. I'm sure you'd run right to daddy and have the matter cleared up in a jiffy—oh!" Gale feigned surprise and held a hoof to her mouth. "That's right. He can't help you anymore because the Council finally wised up. Anypony willing to pull strings to pardon his own son is a pony whose loyalties are questionable at best. You, like your father, are nothing but a rebel sympathizer."

Before I could stop myself, I was streaking towards Gale with both hooves outstretched and ready to tackle her. From behind me I heard Gust’s Sunburst rifles hum to life and begin to crackle with energy. The familiar sound provoked an immediate response and I halted mid-flight, just outside of striking distance.

"If you so much as raise your hoof to me, I swear to Polaris that I will see to it you are branded and made to live with these savages for the rest of your days. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?” I growled an affirmative. “You are unfit for duty. This op is over,” Gale continued, "You are to return to base immediately. Until such a time as our superiors have decided what should be done with you, you are grounded until further notice. Now move.”

Damn it, my wings were clipped. If I disobeyed orders, I'd be in deeper shit than I was already. Even if I tried to keep going towards Canterlot to prove that I could handle what was asked of me, it didn't make a lick of difference. On any other day I would've said to hell with my orders, but Astral was right. Something very strange was going on. The way the twins had goaded me into reacting seemed entirely too suspicious.

“Son of a bitch,” I hissed, streaking off back towards Neighvarro. All of this because I wanted to pony watch. Since when did I give a fuck about anypony below the clouds? Why had that mare drawn my interest when I never spared a passing glance for anypony else? As if that hadn't been enough, I'd went and lost control of my temper. Again. Right after Astral had warned me to keep my hooves in line and play nice with the sisters.

“Command, this is Captain Gale,” I barely heard the mare saying from behind me. “We are returning to base ahead of schedule due to unforeseen circumstances. Suggest immediate and indefinite grounding of Lieutenant Mach until a thorough investigation into his true allegiances can be conducted.”

I tried my damnedest to keep my mind focused on the important things—namely the ramifications of my actions and how fucked I probably was—but that niggling little thought in the back of my head wouldn’t go away. What were the sisters ultimately playing at? These past two days had been incredibly strange. Yesterday that stranger had called me out to try and get me to divulge my private matters. Then the very next day, Astral tells me myself and our father are both under close surveillance. Was this just a coincidence? Did the twins just see this as an opportunity to strike an actual blow at me after years of simple passive-aggressive behavior?

Time seemed to stretch on, and I swear the short flight back to base was twice as long as it had been on the way to our destination. I could feel the eyes of the twins on my back as I raced on, and my heart was still hammering anxiously in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me? Why had I decided to pick today of all days to develop an interest in the Wasteland's goings-on? I was already under scrutiny for being a potential security risk, and this would only make me look more guilty once the twins gave their report.

Ignoring that stable pony altogether was what I should've done. She was probably dead by now anyway.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Gale said smugly as we approached the base grounds and began our descent. I looked over my shoulder to see her and her sister smiling ear-to-ear. “I don’t even have to go looking for the Colonel. She’s found us all on her own.”

“Mach!” a familiar voice called out from below me, panic-stricken and urgent. Astral. “Mach!”

I ripped my gaze away from the twins to look down at my sister as I landed, hurriedly streaking towards me from the command office. Her mane was a complete mess, and her dress uniform was disheveled and completely unlike her. Seeing her caused the feeling of dread that had been growing in my stomach since this morning to double in intensity. Something wasn’t right. Why was Astral waiting for me to return? She should have been tied up with her duties at this time of night.

“Colonel Astral!” Gale said as we landed, “I have the most interesting news regarding the Lieut—”

“Astral?” I blurted, cutting her off before she could build up momentum. “Astral, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Colonel,” Gale tried again, her tone one of forced calm and respect. “I really think you should listen—”

“I know, already!” Astral snapped aggressively, causing Gale to nicker and jerk back as if she’d been physically struck. “I have urgent business to discuss with the Lieutenant, and I will handle his disciplinary action afterward! You are dismissed, Captain! Both of you!”

Gale pursed her lips tightly, and the two mares glared at each other for a moment before she nickered again and took off. Once they were out of earshot, Astral turned back to me. “Mach, it’s Dad!”

My brow furrowed. “What about him?”

“They’ve placed him under arrest, Mach!” Astral said as she stepped over to me, her eyes on the verge of tears. I couldn’t help but nervously take a step back as Astral lurched forward and seized two huge hooffuls of my flight jacket before turning her pleading gaze on me. “Mach, they’re about to try him for high treason! You know what happens to ponies convicted of treason!”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and what had just occurred during the recon flight was pushed roughly to the back of my mind. “What happened, Astral?” I said, doing my best to keep calm and avoid riling her up even further. I needed information from her, and I sure wasn’t going to get it if she was a panicky mess. “What did he do? Why is he being charged with high treason?”

“H-He’s been accused of accessing restricted databases and purging classified Enclave files!”

I was dimly aware of my jaw dropping open. The world around me slowed down to a crawl. All sound drowned out until I could hear nothing but a dull ringing in my ears, and my eyes slid out of focus as the true weight of what Astral had just said settled on me. It all made sense now. All of it. That meeting yesterday in Anemoi Park, that strange armored pony’s cryptic warning... Our respectively weird orders today and the twins' behavior… They had to have been conducting an investigation, and they’d finally closed in on their culprit this morning. My father had been caught, and what Astral had just told me made it crystal clear as to how.

Whatever the hell my father had found, he’d wanted removed… and they’d caught him with his barding around his fetlocks. I had no idea what supposedly-damning information needed obliterating so urgently that he’d take such an enormous risk, but there was no way purging those records was worth the penalty for high treason.

Stars alive, that idiot!

“Mach, what are we going to do!?” Astral sobbed, giving me a rough shake to elicit some sort of response. “What in the name of Polaris are we going to do!?”

An urgent tingle coursed through my body, a mix of equal parts fear and a strange feeling I couldn’t identify. There was one thing that was coming to me with crystal clarity, however. I could feel it as surely as if it were a physical object that had been placed there—a tiny little spark deep within my chest that was telling me exactly what I had to do. Taking a deep breath, I looked skyward and fixated upon the brightest star in the night sky—Polaris.

“Polaris, hear my plight,” I whispered to the star, begging for its aid in my time of need. “Is what I feel genuine? Is this what I need to do? What I am meant to do?”

I waited with bated breath, expecting some sort of thought or instinct to pop into my head and confirm or deny my suspicions. Nothing of the sort happened, but as I continued to watch the brightly burning star, it winked out of existence for a brief period before once again bursting back into brilliant radiance. A blink. A single blink. Could that have been an affirmative?

That was good enough for me.

“Astral, I need you to calm down and listen to me,” I said, doing my best to play the part of big brother and keep her from worrying. “I need you to do me a really big favor, okay? I’m going to go and take care of this right now. When I come back, I need you to be waiting here with my gear, can you do that? Rattler, my knife, my service pistol—all of that stuff. I’m going to need it when this is over.”

“Why—?”

“Go, Astral!” I barked, and the jet-black mare nodded in understanding and took off in the direction of our house.

I watched until Astral’s coat had faded into the black of the night sky, and then I turned and bolted into the command office.

Fate had dealt me a pretty clear hand tonight, it seemed. Looking back on the way things had progressed so far, my path—and my future—had apparently been chosen for me. With Astral headed off to get my gear, I’d done all I could to prepare myself for the road that lay ahead, and now it was time to tackle the unexpected obstacle of my father’s arrest. As I approached the door to the interrogation room, I steeled myself for what was about to come, and reached forward to put my hoof on the handle.

Locked.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I hissed angrily. It didn’t come as much of a shock once I thought about it, but it did make things just a bit more difficult. How the hell was I going to get in there? I couldn’t just knock—it was an interrogation, for pony’s sake. That was when my eyes fell on the coilgun’s barrel, just barely visible in my peripheral vision. 

“Bingo.”

I moved so that I was standing diagonally to the door handle and sighted in with Doc’s fancy little reticule. This thing was supposed to be powerful enough to punch through alicorn shields, so it had to be able to tear apart a locking mechanism. If I shot straight in, though, I could hit anypony standing on the other side of the door, and though I didn’t really like my dad, I didn’t exactly want to kill him, either.

I reached forward to clamp down around my battle saddle’s bit, disengaged the trigger safety, and fired. There was a thundering boom and a slight shudder at my side, and a neat hole appeared at the crack between the door and its frame, right about where the lock bolt would be. There was a tinny scraping sound, and the door popped open a crack.

I immediately surged forward and seized the handle. “Wait!” I cried as I charged forward, bursting through the door before they could investigate the sudden disintegration of the door lock. “Everypony, wait!”

“What the—?” a stallion shouted in confusion, whirling to face me as I burst into the room. I’d never met him before, and I’d met damn near everypony on the base at least once. He was wearing an officer’s uniform, but no rank insignia were visible. Strange. “You'd better have a damned good excuse for interrupting an interrogation in progress... Lieutenant," the interrogator growled as he checked my rank insignia. "I'll see you court-martialed for this."

“It wasn’t him,” I said, stalking quietly forward towards where my father and the interrogator stood, and stopping just short of them. “General Silverbolt is innocent.”

Confusion washed over everypony in the room like ripples expanding in a pond, my father included. I saw him turn his head and furrow his brow, glaring at me suspiciously. I knew that expression. In my youth, I’d been subjected to that expression more times than I could count. That was the expression reserved specifically for when my father was deciphering one of my lies.

“Oh?” the interrogator said coolly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Be that as it may, this is not a trial, Lieutenant. Any evidence you may have to present will not help the General.”

“It. Wasn’t. Him,” I repeated through clenched teeth.

The interrogator narrowed his eyes at me and was silent a moment. “Very well then, Lieutenant. Suppose I decide to listen to what you have to say. If General Silverbolt is not responsible for these crimes against the Grand Pegasus Enclave, then who is, pray tell?”

“…I am.”

My father’s eyes widened in realization, and I saw sudden panic in his expression. No, panic was a understating it. What I was seeing displayed now was pure terror. Why was he so worried all of a sudden? “Mach—”

“Shut up, Dad,” I snapped, shooting my father a death glare before turning back to the pony conducting the interrogation. “It was me, sir. I did it. I stole my father’s clearance keys and used them to access restricted Enclave files. I logged onto the maneframe, and I purged it of all information I perceived as a threat. If you’re going to arrest anypony, sir, arrest me.”

“Lieutenant, you do understand how serious these charges are, don’t you?” the interrogator asked. “High treason is a very serious crime, and carries the direst of consequences. Do you truly understand what you’re condemning yourself to if you confess to this crime?”

“I do, but I don’t really see how that’s relevant,” I said with a smirk.

The interrogator didn’t think it was funny. “As you have confessed to a crime against the Grand Pegasus Enclave and her ponies—in the presence of a member of Enclave Intelligence, no less—I hereby place you under arrest until such a time as you can be tried for these charges.”

Enclave Intelligence. A spook. No wonder why he didn't have any visible rank.

Even as the officer slowly approached me to place my hooves in shackles, my smirk didn’t fade. I stood still until he’d gotten close enough to begin fastening the first shackle, at which point I slipped my hoof free before it closed and drove upward into his jaw in a brutal uppercut. The interrogator staggered, dazed, and I rushed forward, taking advantage of his momentary incapacitation. I wrenched the shackles out of his grip before he could recover and rolled him onto his back.

"B-Backup. Backup!" The Intelligence officer cried, before I wrapped my foreleg around his neck and pulled tight. I held my grip until he stopped thrashing and went limp, taking the time to cuff him before I stood.

“What the hell are you doing!?” My father said incredulously as I rose to my hooves. “Have you lost your mind!?”

“Oh, you’re fucking welcome, you miserable old asshole!” I sneered, turning to face my father. “What am I doing? I’m saving your ungrateful flank from a life in prison, but apparently that’s not good enough for you!” I shouted, throwing my forelegs up in outrage. “What do I have to do to actually earn your respect for once? Should I dye my coat black and put on a fucking wig so I look more like your precious daughter?”

“That’s not fair,” my father murmured, and he cast his gaze down and away.

“Fair?” I snorted derisively. “Fair!? What would you know about fair? Ever since the day I joined the military, you’ve been throwing your weight around to keep me from applying for transfer into the Wonderbolts’ squadron, and you know why? Because you know I’d make the cut! You know I can fly—because you're the one who trained me! To pile on top of that, both of us are neck deep in shit because you pulled this stunt and got your ass caught. Now I’m stepping up to take the blame so you don’t have to, and—surprise, surprise—you’re not even grateful!”

“So you figured you’d ‘save’ me by incriminating yourself,” my father shot back, no longer at a loss for words. “What a wonderful plan you’ve devised. Tell me, why should I be relieved now that I know you’ll be rotting in a jail cell in my place? Did you really think martyring yourself was an appropriate solution to this problem? How am I supposed to be grateful when you’re about to be carted off and made to pay for my mistake?”

There were a million things I wanted to say to him, and naturally my first instinct was to argue with him, but I’d made up my mind already. It was going to take a lot more than pointing out how stupid I was being to undo everything I'd already done. My only option to stay out of prison was to flee to the Wasteland, and if I could do my family one last favor by saving my father at the same time, then damn it, I’d do it. I loved them, and they deserved far more than what little I could give them.

“Don't pretend that you care about what happens to me,” I sneered. "When I'm gone, the furthest thing from your mind will be my well-being. You're going to have to do a lot of ass-kissing to patch up this mess you made. Fortunately, scapegoating me will make things easier for you. As for me? I'm going down to the Wasteland, but not for you," I said, jabbing my old buck in the chest. "For Mom and Astral. They need you. I don't."

My father’s jaw dropped, and he looked at me like I was a blathering idiot teetering on the brink of insanity. “You’ve done plenty of stupid things in your lifetime, but this is by far the most monumentally idiotic thing to ever come out of your mouth. You’ve gone insane. Certifiably.”

“Let’s get one thing straight right now,” I growled, stepping forward so that we were nearly nose-to-nose. “I’m not doing this because I want to or because it’s the smart thing to do—I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do, something which I doubt you’re even qualified to judge these days. Do you even remember what it’s like to make sacrifices for your loved ones anymore, or has that lost all meaning to you ever since you earned those pretty silver stars?”

“If we weren’t already in dire straits, I’d beat you until you were black and blue for being so disrespectful to me, boy,” my father hissed angrily. “I was making sacrifices for my loved ones when you were still nothing but a twinkle in my eye.”

“Then stop taking the moral high ground on this,” I snapped. “What I'm doing is necessary. I'm the fuckup in the family. We don't lose anything if I disappear, so if shouldering the blame for your crimes and leaving the Enclave is what it takes to draw the heat away from you, then that’s what I’m going to do.  I love Mom, I love Astral, and I… Well, I-I…” I averted my gaze and stared at the floor instead. “You’re my dad.” 

I couldn’t say it. There were too many years of pent-up rage boiling just beneath the surface for me to ever say it, but he seemed to understand anyway, and nodded in approval. “You’re my family, and families look out for each other. If this is the only route we can take to ensure we all stay alive and free, then I’m more than willing to sacrifice everything to make it happen.”

My father opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t get the chance. Before he could even utter a single word, the door to the room swung open seemingly on its own. There was a pregnant pause during which my heart began to race, and my father and I exchanged a nervous glance before the hidden figure standing within the doorframe spoke, revealing his presence.

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall during this conversation.” A shimmer of the air in the open space between rooms, and suddenly he was there. Those orange-lensed eyes glared out from beneath the grey cloak, and the mysterious armored pony from yesterday bowed his head politely as we held eye contact. “It was always so amusing to hear you two bicker like an old married couple. Good evening, General Silverbolt, Lieutenant Mach… I do hope you remember the details of our conversation yesterday.”

“Dad…” I said uncertainly, backing away as the armored pony made his way into the room. “He’s not here to talk.”

“What’s this about a conversation?” My father hissed under his breath as he backed up alongside me. “You met with this pony? What did you discuss?”

“The short of it is he told me that I really didn’t want to see him again, and uh… there he is,” I muttered back. 

I had no idea how long this guy had been listening in, but the only way out I could think of depended entirely on him having heard little to none of our conversation. It was the only card I had to play, and I was going to have to lay it down on the table one way or the other, so I leaned over to whisper a quick message to my father. I just hoped he picked it up fast enough to play along. “I might need to do something a little extreme, Dad.”

“Like what?”

“This.”

I immediately lunged for my pistol holster, seizing the mouthgrip between my teeth and wrenching it free before leveling it at—not the stranger—but my own father, instead.

“Back off, or I waste him,” I mumbled around the weapon’s grip.

“What are you doing!?” My father hissed over his shoulder.

“Getting out of here,” I said, loudly enough for it to carry over to our unexpected guest. I had to really sell this if it was going to work.

The mysterious armored pony’s body language didn’t change. He didn’t show any signs that he was shocked at my actions, nor did he tense up and prepare to take me out if I made a move. I had to admit that this was a huge gamble. Enclave troopers were trained to never disarm in a hostage situation, but I was hoping my father’s high profile would swing things in my favor just enough to get us through this in one piece. Stars knew I didn’t have any other choice at this point.

“Don’t do anything hasty, Lieutenant,” the armored pony said calmly, and I narrowed my gaze suspiciously at him. What was his deal? Why was he trying to be so friendly? “I'm sure we can talk this out. Who knows? Pending a full investigation, all the charges could be dropped.”

“Just let me go and nopony gets hurt,” I said in as threatening a manner as I could manage, though I felt being severely undergeared in comparison to my opposition sort of dampened the impact.

“I tried to be reasonable, Lieutenant. I told you it wasn’t wise to lie to me,” the armored stranger said, his tone that of a scornful parent. “I told you that I would find out if you weren’t honest, and I do believe that I was quite clear when I said that you would not want to see me again. You don’t honestly think you can escape, do you? Where will you go? Nopony in the Enclave will harbor a fugitive.”

“Who said I was staying here?” I shot back, taking advantage of the opportunity to point out that this guy wasn’t as right as he thought he was. “By the time anypony else but the ponies in this room know about what’s happened, I’ll have already left for the Wasteland.”

“That’s your plan?” the armored pony said, cocking his head to the side. “Please, Lieutenant. Surrender and come quietly. You wouldn’t last a fortnight in the Wasteland. If the indigenous wildlife doesn’t kill you, the prejudiced against the Enclave sure will.”

“You sure about that?”

“I can see you won't be reasonable,” the pony sighed solemnly, and I felt my eyebrows rise as he stood away from the door. “However, I am willing to give you a chance. I’ll give you a ten-second head start. If you can manage to outrun me in that time, then all the more power to you. I’d advise you to start moving now if you intend to elude my pursuit.”

“What, are you serious?” I asked incredulously, my eyes darting from him, to the door, and finally settling on my likewise-confused father. “Is he serious?”

“One, one-thousand,” the pony counted off. “Two, one-thousand…”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I felt my confidence rapidly draining away. “Shit, you’re serious.”

“Three, one-thousand…”

Oh, sweet Cygnus.

I slammed my pistol back into its holster and galloped past the still-counting pony, taking flight the second I entered the hallway. My eye focused on the ScoutBuck’s clock as I fled, and I felt time distort, my heart hammering thunderously each time a second came and went. How the hell was I going to grab my gear and get out of here in seven seconds? I needed a stars-damned miracle, and I needed it yesterday.

I was so out of my mind with panic that I nearly collided with Astral on my way out onto the base grounds. She was waiting just outside the door with my gear—a machine gun cradled in her forelegs, my combat knife clutched tightly between her teeth and one more I hadn't expected her to bring—my lucky goggles, dangling loosely by their strap from one of her ears. As quickly as I possibly could, I took all of them and began fastening them to my person—knife over my right shoulder, machine gun to my battle saddle, and goggles firmly around my forehead. The whole while, I was talking to her as rapidly as I could without becoming unintelligible.

“Astral, I need you to do me one last favor,” I murmured as I finished cinching up my battle saddle and stood. “I can’t explain what’s going on right now. Talk to Dad as soon as you can, he’ll tell you everything. Duster and Solara… don’t let them know about anything he tells you. If they know what I’ve gotten myself into, they’ll probably rush to help. This is my burden. I can’t be responsible for ruining their lives, too. Can you do that for me?”

“Mach, what—”

“Olly, olly, oxen free!” a cold, modulated voice called out from within the command office, and my heart skipped several beats. “Ready or not, Lieutenant—here I come!”

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” I groaned, backing slowly away from the office and Astral, and colliding with somepony behind me after I’d only made it a few steps.

“Whoa there, Hoss,” the familiar drawl of Duster said as I turned to see who was behind me. “What’s all the ruckus, pardner? Ah been hearin’ some mighty weird things goin’ ‘round since y’all got back.”

“I see you haven't gotten very far.” I turned and saw the armored pony standing in front of the command office, the doors thrown open wide, and the moonlight casting his armored face into such dark shadow, the only thing I could make out were his eye lenses. “Are you sure you don't want to surrender? Innocent ponies don't flee justice, Lieutenant. I implore you to keep that in mind before making your decision.”

“Who’s this feller, Hoss?” Duster asked curiously, stepping forward so that he could get a better look at the mysterious pony. “Never seen him ‘round base before. Y’all got a bone t’ pick with each other?”

"I really don't have time to explain, Duster," I said as I backed away from my friend.

A sudden, subtle motion caught my panicky gaze as Duster jerked to a sudden stop in front of me, and my eyes immediately snapped over to the source—his grenade webbing. A pair of oddly cylindrical-shaped objects different from the usual apple-shaped explosives employed in combat dangled from the straps over the huge stallion’s armored shoulders. Pulse grenades!

"Mach, what are you doing?" Astral said as I lunged forward towards Duster. As she spoke, Duster turned to look at me and his eyes widened behind his visor.

“I’m sorry about this, buddy,” I said regretfully, charging my best friend and tearing one of the pulse grenades from his webbing. Before he could react, I gave him a forceful shove towards the pony, yanked the pin with my teeth and tossed the grenade at a spot somewhere between Duster and my assailant. The grenade detonated a moment later, emitting a powerful surge of electromagnetic energy that left me unharmed, but had an immediate effect on both Duster and the other armored pony, shorting out both of their suits’ systems and rendering them completely immobile.

“Ha!” I jeered, “Ha, ha! Take that, asshole! Try and chase me now!”

“You’ve only bought yourself some more time, Lieutenant,” the armored stranger said, his voice no longer modulated without system power, but still muffled by his rebreather. “I’ve already arranged for a pursuit team. They’ll track you for me, and once I’ve seen to this minor inconvenience I will find you, you can count on that. So go ahead, Lieutenant. Go ahead and run. I'll drag you back here to answer for your crimes one way or another.”

“Not a chance in hell,” I snarled defiantly, although the clanging of multiple sets of armored horseshoes caused my confidence to take a pretty big hit. Looking past the armored pony, I could clearly see that a group of several Enclave troopers were rapidly approaching from deep within the command office.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave!” In a flash, I had my wings to full span and I’d launched myself into the air. The pursuing troopers arrived a moment too late, and bombarded the spot on the clouds where I’d once been standing, boiling the small spot of cloud into steam and screening my escape. I’d really have to push it if I wanted to outrun all of those troops. 

When I hit the outer limits of Neighvarro, I snuck a peek over my shoulder and saw a five-pony flight of pegasi formed up on my tail. Muttering a curse, I sped up a bit more as they started to gain on me, feeling the cool night air whip past my face. My blood was racing now—I hadn’t gone this fast in years, there’d been no reason to on a recon op.

Craning my neck over my shoulder one more time to check my pursuers’ proximity, I let slip a frustrated growl. Gaining, much to my dismay—and checking like this was only slowing me down. Damn it, why couldn’t the E.F.S. show distance to target? Or even have three-sixty degree coverage? I pushed it a little harder despite the burning in my wing joints, hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to my ace in the hole. I wasn’t entirely sure I could manage it with the way I was feeling.

As my airspeed indicator continued to tick up, the wind started whistling loudly in my ears, and I had to purse my lips tightly to prevent my muzzle from catching air and flapping wildly. Even as fast as I was going, the pursuit team was still steadily closing the distance. Well, that was it, then. They’d forced my hoof. Reaching up to my forehead, I slapped my goggles into place and accelerated in a sharp burst of speed, throwing everything I had into flying as fast as I possibly could. I’d only done this a hoofful of times before, but it wasn’t something you forgot how to do.

The very air itself pushed back at me as I sped faster and faster, but that was to be expected for a pony attempting to break the sound barrier. I’d had years of practice, of speed and acceleration training under my belt, so I knew I could do this… on a good day.

Today wasn’t a good day.

I hadn’t taken into account the fact that I’d barely gotten any sleep last night. After that meeting in Anemoi Park, I’d been up tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. On top of that, I hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and if I didn’t keep up with my ravenous appetite, I always wound up sluggish and drained of energy. To pile on to all of that, I was already pretty worn out from the aborted recon mission earlier tonight.

All of these things coming together caused me to flub my concentration, and I suddenly felt myself halted and rebounded as I failed to break past the necessary speed for achieving supersonic flight. Colors blurred and ran together as I tumbled and flopped through the air like a gyroscope, spinning far too wildly to simply course correct. My altimeter was rapidly counting down, and I started to panic as the numbers dropped closer and closer to zero.

With a great amount of effort and counter-flapping, I was able to slow my spin as I broke through the cloud cover and plummeted towards the ground, but I was still very much out of control. Landscape and sky traded places over and over as I continued to drop like a stone. A small town entered and promptly exited my view several times when I was less than three-hundred meters from the surface, and it appeared as if I was about to come down straight into a forest.

Only when I broke through the canopy did I come to realize the true identity of my crash-landing site. While I was ploughing my way through the thinner branches nearer to the sky, I had mere moments for the sudden terror to build up before my head slammed into a particularly large bough, and I dropped straight down. I landed hard on the uneven earth at the base of the tree, cracking my head once again on a gnarled root. I probably could’ve shaken off one, but sustaining two blows to my head caused me to promptly lose all of the remaining strength left in my body, in one of the most dangerous places in Equestria, no less.

I’d just landed in the Everfree Forest.



Footnote: Level up.

Trait(s) Added: 
Air Superiority – While in flight, your AGL is automatically raised to 10. However, indoors or on the ground, you suffer a penalty of -2 AGL.
Fast Metabolism – Your metabolic rate is twice normal. You are much less resistant to radiation or poisoning, but your body heals faster. Failing to consume food at least once a day results in a (stacking) penalty of -1 to your STR and END.

Perk Added: 
Reconnaissance – At night, you gain +1 to your Perception stat.
> Chapter 4: Rude Awakening
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Chapter 4: Rude Awakening



Rousing from unconsciousness on my own instead of being startled out of it by a blaring alarm clock was a new experience for me. It was, however, a lot more painful given the circumstances. I felt like ten miles of storm clouds.

My head was hammering worse than when I’d woken up with that hangover the other day. I could feel the beginnings of two lumps starting to form—one right on the back of my head from when I’d tumbled into the tree branches, and another on the left side where I’d struck the huge root I was now using as a pillow. My body ached pretty badly as well, due in no small part to my rough drop from the canopy above.

According to the ScoutBuck, I felt a lot worse than I actually was. A stroke of good fortune had allowed me to scrape by without breaking anything, and it seemed like I’d managed to avoid winding up with a concussion as well. I sighed in relief when I realized that I’d successfully made my escape without being killed, but when I remembered where I was, that relief quickly turned to panic.

The Everfree Forest was supposed to have been one of the most dangerous places in Equestria before the war. As far as I knew, it hadn’t gotten any better two-hundred years after the fact. In fact, if my years of observations on the Wasteland had taught me anything, it was probably even worse now.

“I have to get out of here.”

I pushed myself back to my hooves with a groan that was totally masculine, and not at all that of a hurt little filly. Aches and pains I wasn’t even aware of flared up at the sudden motion, and I realized that I was probably covered in scrapes and bruises from the crash landing.

Reaching a hoof upward, I struggled to push my goggles up onto my forehead as the strap caught and tangled with the ScoutBuck, but eventually managed it after no small amount of swearing. With my eyesight now unimpeded, I took a look around me, and quickly noticed that almost no light was making it through the forest’s thick canopy. I had the funniest feeling that the cloud cover had absolutely nothing to do with the low-lighting conditions. Visibility was poor, and my view was obscured by the thick wood, as well as tangles of vines and other plantlife still growing wild despite the irradiated land. Truly, this place was a whole different world compared to the Wasteland proper. It felt… wrong. Evil. Just the simple act of standing in the forest made me uneasy.

Something had been bothering me since I’d regained consciousness, but I hadn’t been able to put my hoof on it until I’d taken an honest-to-goodness examination of my surroundings. It was quiet. Too quiet. A forest should have been alive with the sounds of its untold number of occupants, but all I could hear was dead silence. Even in the aftermath of the balefire holocaust, shouldn’t there still have been some resilient wildlife left over? There were still ponies and dangerous creatures roaming the Wasteland…

And then I heard it. A low, guttural growl that made my hackles stand on end. I could feel a pair of eyes on my back, and I turned very slowly to look over my shoulder, swallowing nervously as I did. Standing a few meters behind me was one of the most terrifying creatures I’d ever laid eyes on, and I’d seen Hellhounds before.

Just behind me, barely visible between a pair of trees, was a massive canine. Its ears were pitched straight forward, and its lips were bared back in a snarl, revealing gnashing, razor sharp teeth. The slavering beast’s spittle ran in slow trickles from its maw to collect on its bottom lip, where it occasionally pattered down onto the forest floor. Two unearthly green eyes fixated hungrily on me and burned fiercely with an eerie magical glow, and I could see the thing’s nose wrinkling now and again as it sniffed the air to pick up my scent. I’d heard stories about these creatures, but going by those stories alone, this one didn’t look anything like it was supposed to.

As near as I could tell, this thing was a Timberwolf. All the stories I’d read about them painted them as creatures made of magically animated bits of wood, but this thing only vaguely resembled the creature of lore. The monster staring me down was a massive, dire-wolf-sized animal with a muddy brown pelt and a huge bushy tail that was standing straight up, but erratically twitched and thrashed itself against a nearby tree with an oddly hollow sound once or twice. The only resemblance this thing passed to its fabled self were its eyes glowing that bright, luminescent green.

I could feel my heartbeat immediately quicken, and I started to quiver as the adrenaline began to surge. My body tensed up, and I could feel every one of my muscles ready to react at a moment’s notice. I stared the Timberwolf down, and it did the same, watching me for my reaction. Waiting. I had to make a decision, and now. I could either hoof it and hope I could outrun the beast, or I could stand my ground and hope I could beat it in a fight. 

With none of my weapons loaded and ready? Yeah, right.

I ran.

I took an extra second to check my map and note which direction would take me out of the Everfree the fastest, and then I bolted. The second my hooves started moving, the Timberwolf let loose a furious snarl and gave chase. I pushed my bruised body as fast as I could make it go, using the sounds of the Timberwolf’s bounding gait, growls, and snarls as motivation to push myself even harder than I thought possible in my current state. I’d never been much of a runner, but my military training had given me an overabundance of endurance, and I drew deep down into my reserves to ensure I didn’t tire out and become this thing’s next meal.

Trees rapidly swept past me on either side as I darted nimbly between the trunks within the thick-woven forest. I leapt over protruding roots and ducked low-hanging branches and vines, my eyes constantly on the lookout for tripping hazards as I galloped full-tilt towards the forest’s boundaries. I didn’t dare chance risking a glance behind me and slowing myself down, but I could practically feel the Timberwolf’s breath on my haunches, and once or twice I felt as much as heard its massive jaws snapping shut much too close for comfort.

Somehow, someway, I still managed to stay ahead of the ravenous beast. Exhilaration flooded through me as I continued to sprint to the forest’s edge, and I saw my salvation a scant fifty meters ahead. I felt a triumphant grin spreading as I neared relative safety, and pushed myself just a bit faster. Almost there, now. All I had to do was break through those trees and I’d have plenty of wing clearance to take flight and leave this eldritch mutt behind.

At least, that’s how things would’ve gone in an ideal world.

I found my pride quickly torn to shreds as red hot fire erupted in my right hindleg. Powerful jaws seized my leg just above the hoof, and I was jerked to a sudden halt by the Timberwolf as it caught me and attempted to bring me down. My weight and momentum worked out in my favor, and I pitched forward, pulling the monster with me into a rough tumble onto the forest floor. Once I’d come to an abrupt stop, I quickly fought to scramble back to my hooves and get moving before the Timberwolf could do the same, ignoring the burning pain now radiating from my leg.

It was then that I learned that like real wolves, Timberwolves didn’t always hunt alone.

Just as I managed to stand, a sudden loud snarl from my right drew my attention, and I turned to see another Timberwolf leap from the underbrush and aim straight for my unprotected side. Time seemed to distort, and my brain was able to make a few quick notes before I could swing my forehoof to ward off the attacker. It seemed that the old tales held true—to a degree, at least. The Timberwolves’ dark brown pelts weren’t fur as I’d thought, but hard, barklike skin. The wooden armor protected the Timberwolf from head to toe, but for a few spots in between joints to give them free range of movement.

Hooves would be useless. I had to move.

I tried to run before it made contact, but I succeeded only in making things worse. Before I could move, the creature’s jaw snapped shut on my wing, and on pure reflex I attempted to flee, wrenching the injured limb away from the predator. I screamed in agony as I pulled with all my strength and was met with resistance, but following a blinding, excruciating wave of pain and a sickening pop, my wing slid free of the Timberwolf’s maw and flopped loosely to my side with a shower of blood droplets and feathers.

The second my brain registered the fact that I was free, the throbbing waves of pain became only so much background information. I immediately resumed my escape, streaking off at a limping gallop and leaving the hunting pair of Timberwolves back where I’d been ambushed. They gave chase once they noticed their prey escaping, but by the time they started moving, I’d already made it the rest of the way to the forest’s edge.

I charged through the underbrush, exploding out into open wasteland and putting the Everfree Forest behind me. The sounds of the Timberwolves faded as I continued to gallop on in a panic, hell-bent on getting as far away from the deadly pair of predators as I could. It seemed that luck was finally on my side for once, as the Timberwolves refused to pursue me past the forest’s boundaries. A quick check over my shoulder revealed nothing but two pairs of fiercely burning green eyes glaring after me as I fled.

I heaved a sigh of relief and slowed to a canter in lieu of stopping completely. It was difficult to see in the low light, but my eyes had adjusted to the darkness so that I could make things out just well enough with the aid of the dim, cloud-filtered moonlight. I squinted into the darkness until the familiar shape of a ruined town resolved itself, and headed in that direction. North, by the E.F.S.’s reckoning. 

I wasn’t concerned with investigating that stable pony’s fate anymore—not primarily, anyway. After that encounter with the Timberwolves, the more pressing issue was shelter. I needed somewhere to rest and scavenge medical supplies before I could even begin looking for the bridge where I’d seen the raiders confront the little Stable 2 mare. 

My right wing hanging limply at my side was a constant reminder that I needed immediate medical attention. Burning waves of pain radiated outward from just behind my shoulder, and a dull ache throbbed in time to the burning. It had definitely been dislocated, and if I couldn’t find somepony to help me fix it soon, I’d only be making things worse. My bitten leg throbbed with every step, insistently demanding that it too was injured. I was a lot less worried about my leg than my wing, but I still ran the risk of infection if I didn’t get it patched up.

Right. Shelter and first aid scrounging first, help second. No way in hell was I traveling at night with an injured wing.

I was so deep in thought and distracted by my injuries, I didn’t notice the ground shifting beneath my forehooves. I gave a started cry and immediately pitched forward, tumbling head over hoof down a muddy embankment and splashing down into a shallow trickle of a river. I growled in anger as I pulled my head up out of the filthy water and pushed myself back to my hooves. I could feel the mud caking on my coat and flight jacket, and the stinging in my leg redoubled as the sodden dirt pressed into my exposed wounds.

I trudged forward through the muddy water, which quickly rose up to neck level as I neared the middle of the river. Regardless, I tipped my chin up and kept moving, only lowering my head when the water level once again began to recede. I was panting by the time I made it up the side of the opposite riverbank, finally worn out from the physical exertion of both my flight from the Enclave, as well as my escape from the Timberwolves. The nearest building would have to be good enough. I was too damned tired to be choosy about which dilapidated ruin I took shelter in.

I hummed thoughtfully as I crested the riverbank and spotted the building ahead of me. I had to tilt my head backward to even fit the tall structure entirely within my view. It was a large rotunda, towering up over the majority of the buildings in Ponyville. Although, after taking a quick look around and seeing mostly levelled wrecks littering the town, perhaps such an observation wasn’t very noteworthy after all.

Tall windows circled both of the building’s balconies, their arch-shaped frames long since liberated of their large glass panes. Upon closer examination, the entire upper level appeared to have sustained immense damage at an earlier point in its lifetime. It would have to have been renovated extensively to repair damage of the magnitude I was seeing. Checking carefully to make sure I was indeed alone, I cautiously pushed the door open as quietly as possible and made my way inside.

You’re never really prepared the first time you smell a decaying corpse. Or any time after, really. Even when you’re ready for it, it has a way of taking you by surprise. The scent has a disgustingly cloying attribute to it—lingers in your nostrils and makes you want to heave, no matter how strong your stomach is. Blood is often the main contributor of the stench, gives it that coppery metallic smell that, when strong enough, can even play havoc with your sense of taste. 

I sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for the smell. The stench of death emanating from the building was so intense, it socked me in the nose like a burly pony’s hoof, and I nearly felt that I had to brace myself to keep from being knocked to the floor by the terrible scent.

“Sweet Cygnus!” I exclaimed in disgust. It was bad. Real bad. Never in my life had I experienced the stench of rotting corpses to this degree. I stood there on the threshold for a while, burying my nose in the sleeve of my flight jacket and trying my best not to retch. Was it really a good idea to head in? What if the culprit or culprits were still inside? I was in no shape to fight, and I still hadn’t had time to load either of my weapons.

After some thought, I decided that if the perpetrator was indeed still on the premises, they most likely would have made their presence known by now. If I could just make it up to one of the balconies, the stench of decay would cease to be an issue, so I headed inside despite the awful smell. It was far too dark to see inside, so I toggled on the ScoutBuck’s night vision function. What greeted my eye when I did made me relieved it wasn’t in color. I’d stepped right into an abattoir.

I’d seen dead bodies before. Hell, I’d made a few myself. But the degree to which these bodies had been maimed was absolutely horrifying. Pony corpses were strewn all about the first floor’s massive assembly room, and even more were piled up in the center and around its walls. Body parts and entrails had been tossed with reckless abandon all about the room like decorations of macabre festivity. Banners and tapestries that had once hung high on the walls were now torn or burned, shot through with bullet holes and caked with blood and feces.

Raiders. Might have even been the same raiders that had gone after the stable pony and her fellow captive earlier tonight.

I made sure to scan the building’s interior very carefully before I proceeded any further, checking the large walkway that ran the circumference of the room, as well as the many balconies that overlooked it. Being caught off-guard while I was injured would more than likely be a death sentence. To be thorough, I did multiple sweeps of the building, even going so far as to slowly turn in two complete circles. The E.F.S. came up clear however, and so I proceeded further inside.

Limping carefully around the mound of corpses in the center of the chamber, I made sure to give them as wide a berth as possible as I made my way towards the rear of the building, towards an archway covered with a shredded set of curtains set to the right of a small stage. When I parted the curtain, I managed a small whinny of excitement.

Directly ahead, mounted to the wall beside a staircase leading upwards, was a small metal box. Not just any box, though. This box was a light pale yellow and emblazoned with three little butterflies, the symbol of the Ministry of Peace—Ministry Mare Fluttershy’s cutie mark. First aid supplies!

I hobbled over to the first aid box and was surprised to find that it wasn’t locked. The cover popped open with a gentle tug, and I lowered my ears in frustration when I peered in at the contents. No wonder why it wasn’t locked, somepony had already raided all of the good stuff. There were no healing potions or syringes of Med-X within, and likewise no bottles of RadSafe or pouches of RadAway. The only item that hadn’t been pilfered from the kit was a lone roll of magical bandages.

It would have to do. Snagging the roll of bandages and stuffing them into my jacket pocket, I carefully plodded my way up the staircase beside me, and eventually came out on the upper walkway of the rotunda. The windows I’d seen from the outside ran around its entire circumference and overlooked every inch of Ponyville and the surrounding area. Moving over to one of the empty frames, I gazed out at the remains of what had probably once been a quaint little town, and found myself trying to imagine it in its heyday.

In the town square below, the demolished ruins of an earth pony statue were scattered about the inside of an old fountain. Further in the distance, I could make out a building that had been built within the hollowed-out innards of an enormous tree, a modest little train station, and if I didn’t miss my guess, a boutique, or maybe a haberdashery. I found myself mildly surprised at how accommodating the little town of Ponyville had been before the war. I was used to large cities and modern creature comforts, but this place had a rustic feel that wasn’t altogether lost on me. I felt oddly at home here.

I shivered and quickly moved out of the window. The last thing I needed was somepony with a keen eye and a scoped rifle sighting in on my head while I was busy sightseeing. Sighing, I put my back to the wall nearby before sliding down onto my rump, keeping my eye on the door downstairs in case anypony decided to wander in behind me. The air was indeed a lot fresher up here by the windows, and now that the stench of decay wasn’t violating my senses quite as severely, I realized that now would be a great time to take care of one of the most pressing issues that had been plaguing me recently.

Undoing the catch on the strap around my chest, I carefully shrugged out of my battle saddle, doing my best not to jostle my injured wing. I’d have to rely on my energy pistol for the time being. I didn’t have any ammunition for Rattler since live rounds were hard to come by in the Enclave, but I could at least swap out the spent microspark cell in the coilgun so I’d have a little more firepower at my disposal. 

Once I set the battle saddle down in front of me, I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach, and I stifled a sudden outburst. Rattler—my precious machine gun, which had been liberated from a surface recovery team many years ago—was in a severe state. Even as I reached a hoof out to touch the warped barrel, I felt my stomach twist itself into a knot. I had to have come down on it while I was dropping through the Everfree’s canopy. The machine gun’s barrel had bent completely backward, and there was no way I’d be using it in the foreseeable future. 

Reluctantly, I partially disassembled the weapon, sliding the damaged barrel free and tossing it angrily to the floor below. What were the odds I’d ever find a replacement barrel for it? It had taken years just to find the weapon in the first place! It could’ve been worse, I suppose. The entire weapon could have been rendered unusable in the crash, but as it was now, if I could find a replacement barrel I could easily have it working again.

I took a moment to gaze forlornly at my damaged weapon before breaking my gaze with a depressed sigh. Jamming my hoof into my jacket pocket, I procured the roll of magical bandages I’d recovered and fought briefly with it until I could manage to get the end unraveled. After an awkward amount of fumbling the roll and swearing, I finally managed to get my injured leg wrapped up tight, and I tied off the loose bandage, tucking the rest of the roll into the ammo pouch on my battle saddle for safekeeping.

As much as I hated the idea, I was going to have to get some sleep. I was far too tired and physically exhausted to travel, and traveling by night was a dangerous proposition anyway. I’d spent enough time flying over the Wasteland to know that the creepy crawlies liked to come out of the woodwork at night.

Stuffing my forehooves into my jacket pockets, I hunched my shoulders and tried my best to hunker down within the thin garment to ward off the night’s chill. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to manage sleep with my dislocated wing aching as it was, but I had to try. Dawn was only a few hours away, and it would be safe to travel by then. All I had to do was cope with the pain until morning, and then I could seek out anypony with some medical training. Hell, I’d settle for an extra hoof to just help me pop the joint back into its socket.

My thoughts soon turned to my family, and I found myself wondering what had happened above the cloud cover in the wake of my departure. Was Dad all right? Had my attempt to take the fall for him cleared his name and allowed them to resume life as normal? They’d have to deal with the fallout and negative stigma that would arise from my alleged ‘crimes’ going public, but it was a small price to pay. So what if everypony shamed my family because they thought I was a criminal? At least we were all still alive, if separated.

I shrugged a little deeper into my jacket, sighing restlessly to help alleviate some of the anxiety I was feeling. I’d done the right thing. I knew I had. My sacrifice would allow my father to continue to live free, and in doing so, he could continue to provide for my mother and sister. This had been the right choice. The only choice—I was certain of it.

As my eyelids grew heavy and slowly drooped shut, a faint feeling of panic and fear caused me to shiver uncomfortably. Why was I suddenly feeling like I’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life?
> Chapter 5: Getting off on the Right Hoof
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Chapter 5: Getting off on the Right Hoof



I stood quietly by the bridge where I’d seen the stable pony confronted by those two raiders, who were now lying dead at my hooves. Knowing that they’d been able to escape was a bit of a shock, but it sated my curiosity. Now that I'd done the only thing I really wanted to do, I felt a profound sense of loss. My one and only goal after getting my father off the hook was staying out of Enclave custody. Where the hell did that leave me?

I heaved a large sigh and kicked a small stone in frustration, glaring after it as it bounced off into the river. I’d awoken at the crack of dawn and immediately made my way over to the bridge to see what had become of the two unicorns I’d seen last night.

The scene that greeted me when I’d arrived at the bridge had completely subverted my expectations from the previous night. The two captive unicorns had evidently gotten the upper hoof on their captors, and I’d found the abandoned slaver’s chains, as well as slaver and raider corpses strewn all over the immediate area. The raider nearest to me had been strangled to death, one set of chains still wrapped tightly around the deceased pony’s throat. The other slaver had met a far more gruesome end, and I winced at the pulpy mess that remained of his head. Point-blank gunshot.

My emotions were in a bit of a hectic state without anything to occupy me. True to my reckless nature, I hadn’t given any thought to the circumstances of leaving the Enclave behind. Once again I’d acted completely on impulse, only this time it had been love for my family that had pushed me to act.

Everything was gone now. Everything. I’d lost my family, my friends, and in willingly coming to the surface, I’d been officially exiled from my very home for my actions. Sweeping my gaze over the horizon of the desolate, barren husk that was all that remained of war-torn Equestria, the same doubt from last night was quickly beginning to resurface. What the hell had I been thinking? How was I going to survive down here when the dirt munchers had been struggling for going on two centuries?

My stomach filled with the leaden weight of doubt, I turned my back on the corpses and set out in search of the nearest town. The few hours of rest I’d gotten hadn’t brought me back up to one-hundred percent, but they’d still done wonders for me. Not surprisingly, my dislocated wing still felt like a red hot iron spike had been jammed into my shoulder, and my wrapped leg was pretty stiff as well. The healing properties of the magical bandages had done enough to allow me to manage a brisk trot instead of having to hobble around like a lame old mare, which was a huge boon. I’d certainly take what I could get.

My current plan of action was to follow the train tracks out of Ponyville. They’d be a relatively clear—if exposed—travel route, and it was the most logical choice that I could think of. There was also a very good chance the tracks would lead directly to another train station, which would more than likely be in the heart of civilized territory. Or at least, that was the hope.

I made sure to keep my head low as I advanced further towards the edge of town, unwilling to leave myself exposed to any potential sharpshooters with a clear sightline to the streets. I’d gotten a good view of the town’s layout from the upper levels of the rotunda, and I made sure to head in the direction from which I’d seen plumes of smoke on the horizon. Where there was smoke, there was fire. Where there was fire, there were ponies. I’d just have to hope those ponies weren’t hostile.

I couldn’t have been more than a klick out from Ponyville when gunshots and the crump of muffled explosions broke out from back the way I’d come. I halted in my tracks and peered over my shoulder to examine the town from afar. Even from this far away, I could make out the occasional tracer round or cloud of fire and shrapnel from a detonated explosive. The conflict seemed to be taking place primarily in the vicinity of the huge tree-building I’d spotted from the rotunda. Heaving a sigh of relief, I turned my back on the small town and trotted off on my way. Thank the stars I’d gotten the hell out of there before I’d been swept up in that.

It was pretty easy going following the rail lines, and I trotted steadily onward towards what I’d been hoping was a town or settlement in the distance. Time seemed to drag on forever with no notable buildings or landmarks to occupy my attention. I felt like I may as well have been trapped in a desert for all the entertainment the lack of topographical variety was providing me. Then again, I suppose the same could’ve been said of the cloud cover, but at least we had buildings here and there.

After hours of traveling with nothing to distract me, certain things began to flood to the forefront of my mind. Important things, like the fact that my stomach was trying to eat itself from the inside out, and the back of my throat was bone dry and scratchier than a sheet of sandpaper. I’d completely forgotten to ask Astral to bring my survival kit along with the rest of my gear, and I hadn’t been able to find any provisions within the rotunda back in Ponyville. Damn the luck. The hoofful of bits jangling in my pocket was a reminder that I’d at least be able to buy some food and drink, if I could manage to find a pony peddling their wares.

The monotony of travel was eventually broken up when I passed into the outskirts of a tiny little town. As I approached the nearest waypoint on the ScoutBuck’s compass, I was alerted that I’d just entered the town of Apple Valley. I paused at the end of a street to glance over the town and decide if it was worth exploring or not. 

Relatively few buildings were intact that I could see. Immediately to my left was Apple Valley Elementary School—a dilapidated partially-collapsed ruin spewing desks, lockers, and other implements of education from within its condemned bowels. The ramshackle bits of foundation left over from several destroyed houses were the only evidence left that this had once been a small residential district. Only one little house was still in fairly good condition, and I made a mental note to check it out later. For now, I was more interested in the little school to my left.

The school was intact enough for ponies to have taken up residence inside of it, and if it was anything like Enclave schools, there would be a nurse’s office. If indeed there were ponies in there, and the nurse’s office was well-stocked on supplies, fixing my wing would be made a whole lot simpler. I’d heard that joint relocation was incredibly painful, and I really didn’t want to have somepony yanking on my injured wing without any kind of pain relief.

It was equally as likely to be completely abandoned, of course. This whole endeavor was reckless and a foolish waste of my time, but then, reckless decisions just so happened to be my forte.

“Excelsior,” I muttered, and pattered over to a collapsed section of wall.

I fought to stay upright as I made my way carefully down a heap of rubble, my hooves slipping occasionally on the loose debris. Even with all the time I spent on my hooves comparatively to my fellow pegasi, I was still realizing how easy I had it with a pair of wings. I couldn’t begin to imagine how the other pony races dealt with walking their whole lives. 

Sliding to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the pile, I tripped and scrambled awkwardly to keep my balance. The collapsed portion of the school had taken me down into a basement level. It appeared that the entirety of the room I was standing in was devoted to locker and shower facilities, and just ahead was a set of double doors that led deeper into the old building. Seeing no reason to investigate a simple locker room, I headed on in to the building proper.

I’d entered into a dark, dimly-lit hallway that branched out into two different directions. To either side of me were separate hallways that led deeper into the school’s basement, and I remained where I was while I tried to decide which direction to take. In the end, I settled with my dominant hoof and headed to my right, wending back left as the adjacent hallway immediately turned the corner.

I plodded slowly forward down the corridor, keeping left to squeeze my way by a series of filing cabinets stacked up against the rightmost wall. Yellowed old papers and a thick sheet of dust covered the floor, and were occasionally scattered by my hooves and the light stirring of air from my passage. Just ahead of me was another hallway that ran perpendicular to this one, with a small bookshelf against the wall by the intersection.

As I moved closer to the point where the hallways met, I caught sight of something just out of view. It was just around the right corner of the upcoming hallway, and I fixated on it as I drew closer, slowing my speed to a crawl and prowling stealthily forward.

“Oh, no…” I whispered, dread trickling over me like someone had turned on a tap of ice cold water just above my head. “That is literally the last thing I wanted to see.”

What I’d seen from a few meters back was the corner of a moldy old mattress. Once I’d come close enough to look at it properly under the wan light, it became quite apparent that the mattress was soaked through with blood. Upon the mattress was the source of the bloodstain—a decapitated pony corpse that had been left there to rot for who knew how long. My mind soon put two and two together, and my stomach did a backflip when I considered the very notion of such a disgusting act.

“Raiders…?” I murmured to myself as I backed slowly away from the corpse. “This reeks of those psychos,” I continued while I kept reversing, affording myself a nice glimpse of a massive bloodstain on the wall just above the bookshelf. “I didn’t think they were as wide-spread as this. You think you get a sense of things watching from the skies, but this problem is a lot bigger than I’d initially thought.”

I was about halfway down the corridor when I felt something cold and slimy bump up against my flank, and I immediately whirled to face backward.

“Holy shit!” I screamed in utter shock and terror.

I’d just bumped into yet another corpse, only this one was a far more macabre display than the last. Even as I turned, the cadaver swung freely to and fro at my rump’s agitation, clinking and squeaking softly as it moved through the air. The body had been impaled with several meathooks and strung up from the ceiling with heavy duty chains, where it could dangle freely like some sort of sick, twisted Hearth’s Warming tree decoration.

“Screw this,” I whispered, my voice tinged with very real fear. I tried not to imagine myself hanging from those hooks, or lying on that mattress to be used by some lunatic, but imaginative visions of far worse fates flashed before my eyes in their stead. “Whatever supplies might be in here aren’t worth it. I’m out.”

“Who’s there!?” A hoarse, raspy voice called out. Female. Every hair on my body immediately prickled and my blood turned to ice water. Oh stars, I wasn’t alone. I quickly fumbled my energy pistol out of its holster as the unknown pony called out again. “Is that a new friend t’ play wit’? Come on out! I promise I won’t bite… hard.”

Whoever it was, I couldn’t see them yet. The acoustics within the decrepit old hallway were strange, and I couldn’t tell where the pony’s voice was coming from, either. The ScoutBuck was turning up negative for hostile contacts, so whoever it was had to have slipped behind me. Turning to look directly behind me, I saw that the hallway continued before merging with what I assumed was the leftmost hallway I’d left behind earlier, but still I saw no hostiles in sight. Ahead of me and beyond the mattress with the corpse on it was a pair of doors that I’d been too spooked to investigate. Both were closed, and so I ruled them out as the origin of the steadily encroaching pony. That left back the way I’d come, or the hallway I’d bypassed.

I thought it over for a moment, and then turned to trot towards the corridor ahead, hoping to loop back around behind the stalker and make my exit back the way I’d come.

“HEY!” Somepony screamed from behind me, and I shot a glance over my shoulder to see a filthy unicorn mare standing by the mattress, her eyes wild and crazed, a small pistol held aloft in a field of gently glowing magical energy. My mane crawled when I saw the rictus grin on her face, and her right eyelid twitched several times. “Leavin’ so soon? Where’s the fire, big guy?”

I froze like a startled deer, my eyes locked to the pistol being brandished in my direction. I’d suddenly decided that I didn’t much care for unicorns as hostile combatants. At least with a pegasus, I could read body language. A sudden tensing of the jaw was a dead giveaway that a pony was about to fire. Magic completely erased the one advantage I had with regard to predicting my enemy’s actions.

I wasn’t sure I could turn and squeeze off a shot before she hit me, so I took off running down the hallway in hopes that I could safely round the corner. I did my best to put the hanging body between myself and the raider mare, and I even heard a round or two embed itself into the cold flesh as she opened fire.

The pistol’s thundering report was deafening in the cramped confines of the school’s hallways, and my ears rang profusely as the crazed mare squeezed off shot after shot at me while I fled for my life. Hooves clitter-clattered on the old tile floor beneath me as I bolted and the raider gave chase behind me. The safety of the adjoining hallway was a mere hair’s breadth away when I felt a stray round bury itself into my left flank, tripping me up and sending me sprawling to the floor.

If you’ve never been shot, I can only say that the pain is nearly indescribable. With the adrenaline surging I didn’t feel it at first, but when the pain finally hit me, I was on the ground hissing and cussing up a storm. It was nothing like an energy weapon wound—painful, but neat and almost surgical, and with the benefit of instant cauterization. 

Being hit with a bullet felt like somepony had taken a sledgehammer to my flank, only the pressure from the impact wouldn’t fade. Waves of blinding, white-hot pain radiated outward from my perforated rump, and I was too busy trying to stem the flow of blood to notice the raider mare stalking towards me.

“Oh, I think we’re gonna have fun wit’ you,” the mare said sweetly, and I peeled my eyes open, gasping in pain and looking up at her through swimming tears as she stood over me. “Can’t have ya runnin’ off before I get ya acquainted wit’ my friend, though, so nighty night fer now!”

I was about to rattle off a string of expletives at the crazy bitch, but she brought her pistol down from on high and smashed the butt into my skull. My world exploded into twinkling little stars as I flopped to the floor hard, but I managed to cling desperately to consciousness. Slowly, shakily, I reached a hoof forward and attempted to crawl my way to safety, terrified at the thought of being at the mercy of raiders.

And then the raider mare brought her hoof down on my head.


*                *                 *


“What should we do with ‘im, Curb Stomp?” 

I stirred at the sound of conversation. My head was killing me—that damn raider bitch had nailed me right in the goose egg that had popped up after I’d smashed into those tree limbs in the Everfree. I quickly became aware of the fact that I’d been bound, and I could feel whatever I’d been tied up with cutting tightly into my fetlocks. An experimental twist revealed both the knots and material to be of poor quality, but I didn’t want to make my move yet. If I made a sudden break for freedom, I stood the chance of stirring up the raiders and encouraging them to give chase or cap me on the spot.

I could tell by feel that I’d been bereft of all of my gear. The familiar weight of my battle saddle upon my back was conspicuous in its absence, and I couldn’t feel the snug tightness of my knife sheath or pistol holster. All I’d been left with was my goggles, the jacket on my back and the ScoutBuck, which I now realized wasn’t half as useful as I thought it would be, given that it hadn’t highlighted any hostile targets when the raider mare had been stalking me. 

I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one without any weapons, but if I was going to try, I needed to know what I was up against. I cracked open an eyelid just enough to see, revealing the raider mare from earlier, as well as an earth pony stallion conversing with her.

“Dunno,” the stallion shrugged. “I think he’s one a’ dem Enclave ponies, though. Lookit his jacket an’ his squeaky clean coat.”

“What about the mud, Curby?”

“What about the mud?” the stallion snapped.

“Well, ya said he was squeaky clean, an—”

“I mean besides that! He musta crashed in a puddle or somethin’. He had t’ have traveled at least a li’l t’ get t’ where we are, too. I meant he ain’t been down here long.”

“Well, so what?” the mare said, glaring through narrowed eyes at her partner. “That don’t change nothin’, does it? Big deal, so he fell outta the sky. Dem Enclave ponies ain’t gonna come lookin’ fer ‘im.”

“Prolly not,” the stallion shrugged. “I’m fuckin’ starvin’, though. Can we jus’ eat ‘im?”

My heart skipped a few beats, and I had to fight not to break free of my bonds and flee with my tail between my legs. Not yet, I thought. Wait it out for a little while longer.

“What is it wit’ you?” the mare replied incredulously. “Why ya always wanna eat ponies? No, ya can’t eat ‘im! Jeez, sometimes ya make me embarrassed t’ even hang out wit’ ya, I swear. We ain’t had any fun with ‘im yet, anyway. Never even seen a pegasus before, never mind had the chance t’ roll around with one. We’d be retarded t’ pass up a chance like this.”

“He is kinda hot,” the stallion said amorously, and I felt my mane crawl uncomfortably as he turned to leer down at me. “Lookit his legs, Garrote. Long an’ slender like a mare’s. An’ that plot—mmm! Nice an’ firm, jus’ the way I like it. I bet he’d look real good in a dress, too. Definitely got the ass fer it.”

“You’re not the first pony to tell me that,” I said, opening my eyes and glaring up at my captors. I’d had enough of listening to this asshole judge me like some exotic cultivar of apple. “The difference here is that the last guy who said that to me had some class. How about buying me dinner? If you want access to this temple, you have to pay the proper tribute, shit-for-brains.”

I sat up while the raider processed my snippy remark and took note of my surroundings. I was locked up in a cell made of wrought iron bars that had been erected in the middle of a sizable foyer. Just past the two raiders I could see a set of double doors with daylight pouring through their windows. Freedom! All I had to do was make it past these yahoos, and my salvation was mere meters away.

“You think yer fuckin’ funny, don’tcha?” the raider called Curb Stomp growled, slamming a hoof aggressively against the bars of the cell, perhaps to try and intimidate me. It wasn’t working. I was already as nervous as I was going to get, and my fast mouth was the direct byproduct of my fear.

“Oh, I know I’m funny, Ugly. You’re just too damn stupid to appreciate good humor.”

Curb Stomp nickered and reared up, slamming both forehooves against the bars and rattling them once more. “I don’t think ya realize where ya is, li’l birdie. Ya ain’t safe up in yer li’l Enclave para… parad… p-para, um…” The raider stallion furrowed his brow and scrunched up his muzzle in deep thought.

“Paradise, Genius,” I provided for him.

“Fuck you!” Curb Stomp shouted. “This shit right here is what I’m talkin’ about! Yer down here with us Wasteland ponies now, and we ain’t very nice t’ ponies like you who think they’s better’n us. Let’s see ya talk shit when I’m splittin’ ya in half, ya little faggot!”

“Little?” I snorted. “Dude, I’m taller than you are. I hope you have a stepstool hidden away somewhere.”

“That’s it, yer ass is mine!” Curb Stomp screamed, and he seized a little latch in his teeth and threw the cell’s gate open. “Ya better hope ya got somethin’ t’ bite, ‘cause I’m goin’ in raw! Imma fuck you bloody, an’ then ya know what? Imma eat ya while yer cryin’ fer yer mommy like a li’l bitch! I don’t care what Garrote says!”

I swallowed nervously. I was officially more afraid for my life than I’d ever been before. My heart was slamming against my ribcage, I was doused in a cold sweat, and it was taking every ounce of my self-control to refrain from shaking like a terrified little foal and pissing myself. As Curb Stomp stalked towards me, I tensed and readied myself to break the bonds around my legs. Once he got within striking distance, I could sucker punch him and flee to safety. Or at least, that was the hope.

“Wait just a fuckin’ second, Curby!” Garrote snarled, and I relaxed slightly as the unicorn mare intercepted the enraged stallion. “He’s mine! I found ‘im, so I get t’ fuck ‘im first! You can jus’ wait yer fuckin’ turn!” 

“’The fuck do you care?” Curb Stomp sneered, turning to face Garrote and leaving his back exposed. “It ain’t like you c’n get anythin’ outta ‘im, anyway. I doubt this li’l limpdick faggot could even get it up fer you t’ have yerself a good time. I ain’t got that problem. He don’t need t’ be hard fer me t’ rut ‘im like the li’l bitch he is. Ain’t that right, homo?”

“Fuck you!” Garrote shrieked. “He got a mouth, don’t he?”

Well, this definitely took the top spot for most awkward situation of my life. I’d never had somepony fight over the right to rape me first before. 

“Oh yeah, like he’s gonna wanna play along with a face full a’ yer sweaty box,” Curb Stomp shot back. “You’ll be lucky if he don’t start gaggin’ an blow chunks up there. Now get outta my way,” he growled, shoving the mare roughly aside. “You c’n have yer fun once I break ‘im. I’m sure all the fight’ll leave ‘im once he realizes that he ain’t got nothin’ t’ look forward to fer the rest a’ his life but bein’ my li’l cock sleeve. An’ if he wants t’ keep on fightin’, then I’ll jus’ eat ‘im bite by bite ‘til he bleeds t’ death.”

Curb Stomp stalked closer and filled my view, leaving me unable to see Garrote or what she was doing. I couldn’t rely on her to distract him any longer—he was determined to have his way with me at this point, and I couldn’t let that happen. As the raider stallion drew up on me, I gave my forelegs a sharp jerk outward and my bindings frayed and snapped, leaving me free to scramble backward and to my hooves.

The look of surprise on Curb Stomp’s face when I broke free would have been amusing had I not still been in very real danger. I made sure to watch him like a hawk in case he went for his weapon while I tried to decide if I should run him down and make my escape. A moment before I could start moving, however, I heard a crack and a sickening crunch, and the earth pony crumpled to a heap at my hooves.

“I said, ‘wait yer turn,’ Curby,” Garrote said sweetly, and I looked up to see the mare standing just behind his unconscious body, the pistol she’d shot me with enshrouded in her telekinetic field and held aloft. “Take a nap. He’ll still be here when ya wake up.”

I grimaced and took a step back as her wild eyes swiveled up to look straight at me. I’d never seen a crazy pony before, but that wasn’t necessary for me to see that Garrote was completely insane. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide as dinner plates, and her pupils had shrunk to the size of pinpricks. Every so often an eyelid or one of her ears would twitch, and she was shaking like a pony who’d been forced to weather a blizzard for hours completely naked.

I found myself backing slowly away from the raider mare, and I didn’t realize I’d run out of room until my flank hit the bars, sending a sharp jolt of pain through my wounded haunch. I pinched my eyes shut tight and stifled a yelp, fighting the impulse to just drop to the floor and cradle my leg.

“Nowhere t’ go, li’l birdie,” Garrote said as she started forward towards me. “It’s jus’ you an’ me all alone in yer li’l cage. Ya might not realize it yet, but I didja a real favor knockin’ Curby out. He woulda worn ya out like an old tire. I seen it happen before. Seen ponies die from it. Lucky fer you, I’m a li’l more gentle. If ya play nice, I promise t’ make it hurt good instead a’ bad.”

“What makes you think I won’t just club you over the head like you did to me?” I challenged, holding up a hoof to show her my lack of bonds. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not tied up anymore. I’m not about to hop into bed with you, and I’m not going to let you make me get you off, either. Tough break, lady. Time for you to find out what blue balls feels like.”

“Aww, I was hopin’ you’d play nice,” Garrote said, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “I guess we gots t’ do it the hard way, then.”

Without any further delay, Garrote made her move, and it was then that I realized that my monumental stupidity had screwed me over yet again. The unicorn mare took aim with the small-caliber revolver with which she’d clubbed her partner into unconsciousness and squeezed the trigger. Again, I cried out as the bullet tore into my right shoulder and I collapsed to the floor, my hoof clutched tightly to the hole that had just opened up in my jacket.

“Gah, fuck!” I hissed, clenching my teeth and closing my eyes tightly as I attempted to endure the pain. “Why!? What the fuck is the matter with you, you crazy bitch?”

“I told ya I’d only make it hurt bad if ya didn’t play nice!” Garrote chastised, and the hairs of my mane prickled when I heard her moving across the cell towards me. Before I could scoot away, Garrote rolled me over, and my cry of pain when my dislocated wing was roughly agitated seemed to only further compel the mare. “Go ahead an’ hurt me back. I like it rough.

“Don’t even think that’s an invitation t’ try an escape, though, Hot Plot,” the raider continued, and I instinctively shrank back away from her when I felt a blade pressed firmly up against my neck. A glance down revealed my knife to be held within Garrote’s magic, ready to open me up like a letter if I so much as attempted to escape. “Try an’ push me off or grab onta me an’ I might just… slip. Understand?”

“Then what’s the point of—mmph!”

My question was quickly muffled as Garrote sat herself astride me, slamming her forehooves down on either side of my head as she leaned forward to press her lips to mine. I fought the urge to vomit as her disgusting, sour-tasting rancid breath entered my mouth along with her tongue, and I began to thrash and twist in an attempt to spare myself from her nauseating taste. Time seemed to stretch on forever while Garrote remained locked onto my mouth like a persistent lamprey eel, and she eventually parted of her own volition, but not before biting down on my bottom lip and pulling back hard enough to draw blood.

“Mmm…” Garrote sighed in pleasure as I coughed and spluttered, gagging at the offensive taste lingering on my tongue. Urgh, I think that may have been what meat tasted like. “Ya taste good, pretty boy. Kinda like those cherry-flavored snack cakes ya find layin’ around every once in a while.”

“I’m not at all sorry to say that I don’t share that sentiment,” I managed to choke out.

“Really?” Garrote said, quirking an eyebrow skeptically. “Your li’l buddy is sayin’ somethin’ different.”

A wave of nausea and shame washed over me at my body’s unwanted response to the raider mare’s advances. I didn’t have a snappy comeback for that one, and even if I did, I doubted the mare would believe me. I didn’t need to justify myself to her, anyway. What I needed was to get her off of me before she got the chance to take this any further. Stars knew I didn’t want any of the diseases this filthy, debauched pony may have been carrying.

I wanted out. I wanted out. I didn’t care if she’d threatened to slit my throat if I tried to escape, I didn’t want any part of this. With the mare sitting atop me, my forehooves were pinned beneath her, so I did the only thing I could think of. I lunged forward as far as I was able and aimed squarely for her muzzle with my forehead. Pain blossomed between my eyes, and I sucked a breath in through my teeth as my skull made impact, but my sudden assault didn’t deter Garrote in the slightest. Against all logic, she found it both amusing, and apparently arousing as well.

“Careful, I almost cut ya,” Garrote giggled even as thin trickles of blood began to ooze from her nostrils, and I felt the bile rise in my throat as she reached her tongue up to lick away one of the trails as it flowed down her muzzle. “Mmm, yeah…” Garrote sighed pleasurably, leaning forward so that her chest obscured my view, and whispering quietly into my ear. “Jus’ like that, big guy. I think we’re gonna have fun, you an’ me. Here, lemme return the favor.”

I shivered as her breath tickled the hairs of my ear, cringing when I felt her begin to nibble aggressively upon it. I liked when Solara nibbled on my ears, and I even dabbled in a bit of ear nibbling myself, but it was always gentle. Garrote was seeking to cause as much pain as possible, and I fought to shove her off of me when she suddenly clamped down hard.

“Ow!” I yelled as she locked on like a vise. “Ow, get off! Ow, ow, OWWW!”

When the pain became too much to bear, I thrashed until I got my hindlegs up under the raider and kicked out, feeling a surge of triumph when I saw the mare’s look of complete shock as she went toppling backward, dropping my knife to the floor as she went. I took advantage of the opportunity, scrambling to my hooves as she did the same just across from me. I was about to begin searching for her pistol so I could kick it away before she could shoot me a third time, but I completely forgot about that when Garrote stood and my eyes caught something clenched in between her teeth.

The ambient noises inside the room seemed to fade out and were replaced with the dull roar of the blood rushing through my ears. I could feel it streaming downward from my wounded left ear even as it continued to throb and radiate with burning waves of pain. Just hooves away, Garrote began to chew the object in her mouth greedily, a thin trickle of blood that wasn’t hers staining one corner. She was smiling. She was reveling in my pain and misery, in inflicting bodily harm upon me.

I clenched my jaw when I saw her throat contract as she swallowed the piece of my ear she’d just bitten off, and I could feel myself beginning to quiver with rage. All pain from my injuries dulled to tolerable levels, and my chest began to heave as my heart rate skyrocketed. My mind completely emptied of rational thought, to be replaced by a single command, on loop.

Get it back.

“You BITCH!” I screamed, stooping to snatch my knife up in my mouth and rushing forward even as the mare’s triumphant grin turned into an expression of complete bewilderment. “You fucking bitch! Give it back! Give me my fucking ear back! GIVE IT BACK!”

Even as I reached the raider mare and threw my shoulder into her, knocking her to the floor, she continued to laugh in that same, deranged giggle. I followed her down, my irrational fury driving me to plunge my knife hilt-deep into the mare’s stomach. I felt muscle and sinew parting through the handle as I pulled the knife free with a squelch and stabbed back down with it savagely, rivulets of blood flying upward to splash and collect upon the hairs of my face.

Garrote shuddered beneath me, and I barely acknowledged the sounds of her pained whimpering as I again sliced into her abdomen with the knife. This time I cut down towards me, opening a deep rend in her stomach before dropping my knife to the floor and jamming my hooves into the hole I’d carved into the raider pony. With panic-stricken hooves I tore at the wound to widen it, reaching into the mare’s body and shoving intestines aside until I found her stomach, hell-bent on retrieving the bit of me she’d swallowed.

“St-Stop,” Garrote whispered meekly as I seized the pouchlike organ in my hooves and yanked it roughly free of the visceral membrane holding it steady within her abdominal cavity, using my teeth to sever the connections to her esophagus and intestines. “Please, stop.”

I dropped Garrote’s eviscerated stomach to the floor and grabbed my knife again, slashing into it and squeezing it until all of its contents emptied out onto the floor. It was then that I saw it—a tiny little mangled lump of crimson-haired flesh spewed out of the stomach as I applied pressure to it, and I quickly snatched it up in my hooves and stared at it with a sense of grief and profound loss. There was no way I could reattach this. My ear would be disfigured forever.

“Help…” Garrote squeaked, and I looked up to see the raider mare reaching out toward her unconscious friend, her eyes brimming with tears. There was legitimate fear there. She was completely and utterly terrified. “H-Help, Curby. I don’t wanna die…”

I looked up at the mare who had just moments ago been trying to take advantage of me in my moment of weakness. Seeing the dying pony now begging for her life brought me crashing back to reality, and hard. I looked down at my bloodstained hooves in horror, the warm crimson liquid standing out clearly against my own coat by a shade or two. I dropped the piece of my ear to the floor as they began to shake, and I frantically began trying to wipe the blood off.

“Need to get it off,” I murmured, my voice wavering in a panic. “Why won’t it come off? Oh stars, why can’t I get it off?” 

I froze and looked up again to see the mare as if for the first time. What I saw was a scene right out of a stars-damned horror movie. Garrote lay flat on her back, one of her forehooves stretched out towards the still-unconscious Curb Stomp. A massive rend had been opened up in her abdominal cavity, and her viscera were strewn all around her body like she’d swallowed a grenade and been blown apart from the inside. Her face was frozen in a masque of pain and fear, and as I looked into her glossy dead eyes, I felt dread settle in my stomach like a lead weight.

That couldn’t have been me. There was no way I could’ve done that—I wasn’t capable of such an atrocity. I looked down at my hooves again, bloodstained and with the remains of Garrote’s stomach and my discarded combat knife sitting on the floor as a backdrop.

“Oh, sweet merciful Polaris,” I whispered, and immediately scrambled to my hooves and hobbled out of the cell on my wounded limbs. I made it maybe four steps before I had to stop, stooping down and retching violently as the thought became too much to bear. I remained there for some time, panting and dripping sweat down into my pile of vomit while my mind buzzed with white noise. I was shaking from head to hoof and making little whimpering sounds on every exhale as I attempted to come to terms with what I’d just done.

“S-She, I… I had to,” I reasoned with myself. “I had to, I had no choice.”

But I didn’t have to painfully eviscerate her and tear her stomach out to retrieve the top half of my ear.

“She’s—was a raider,” I gibbered, my words coming rapidly and colliding with one another as they poured out of my mouth. “A dirt pony. They couldn’t give a shit less if they look like well-dressed turds, but we’re civilized. We’re better than that. What am I without my looks? Just another pegasus. Raiders aren’t like us, it’s different. It’s different, it has to be different. I’m not… I’m not like them.”

This wasn’t how it started, was it? A single traumatic event leading to a downward spiral into insanity?

A sudden, intense feeling of claustrophobia crashed over me like a tidal wave, powerful and overwhelming. I felt like the walls were closing in around me, and I began hyperventilating in my panic. I had to get out of here—away from these two and as far away from this stars-forsaken school as I could get. I couldn’t spend another moment trapped in here, or I was likely to completely lose my mind.

I only took a moment to rubberneck around and locate my gear, discarded just outside of the cell in a large pile. Against my better judgment, I pattered back into the cell and retrieved my knife, intentionally averting my gaze from Garrote’s corpse. Once I’d collected it, I snatched up my things and bolted for the door, not bothering to take the time to fasten them securely. 

Once I was free of the building, I ran. I ran and put all the distance between the school and myself that I could, thankfully having the presence of mind to head in the direction I’d been traveling before I’d stopped. I ran until my muscles burned with fatigue, and then I tripped and fell, rolling to a stop in the dirt.

I didn’t move from where I’d fallen, I merely rolled onto my back to look straight up at the cloudy skies, hurting and completely winded. If this was how things were going to be, I honestly wasn’t sure how long I would last down here. I’d killed plenty of ponies in my years of service to the Enclave military, but I’d never lost control like I’d done back there. I’d always had a very short temper, but it had never manifested in a display of such savage violence before. 

Was my behavior a product of the Wasteland environment, or did I really have the potential to be that terrible a pony without the threat of the law to punish me?

I immediately abandoned that line of thought, shivering uncomfortably at the implications of such a circumstance. To distract myself, I peered around with my limited range of vision until I saw a little settlement in the distance. Was that the place I was looking for? 

“Thank Polaris,” I groaned as I pushed myself to my hooves and started walking.

The small town loomed ever larger as I dragged my hooves towards it. It appeared to be a reasonably-sized little settlement from the outside, but it was difficult to see much of the town. Train cars had been stacked high to surround the town like protective walls, and it made seeing within to the town proper extremely difficult. On a good day, I’d have flown up to get a lay of the town, but the fact that I couldn’t do just that was the main reason for even seeking this place out. I just had to hope these ponies would be receptive to me. My luck so far hadn't really held out, but one could hope, right?

I tried to clear my mind of the horrors I'd experienced and committed within the elementary school while I limped my way over to the gates leading into the town. An indicator popped up on the ScoutBuck as I neared that identified the location as the town of New Appleloosa. I met no resistance as I made my way into the small town, but quickly slowed to a stop when I took a good look around. Something was wrong. Ponies were staring at me, and some even fled into dwellings or further into the town. Nopony was concerned that I was riddled full of holes and walking around with a dislocated wing, they were all just… glaring at me with hatred.

As I stood there aching, bleeding, and trying to figure out what I’d done to earn the ire of so many strangers, it didn’t take long before I drew the attention of a black and grey stallion who carried himself with an air of authority. He moved steadily towards me with purpose, and he didn’t look any happier to see me than the rest of the town’s populace did. In fact, it looked like he was ready to beat the shit out of me.

“Whoa, pal. Hey, easy,” I croaked, taking a step back and holding up a forehoof in a gesture of peace. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

The earth pony stallion glared daggers at me. “Now lookie here feller, Ah don’t know who y’ think y’ are, but ain’t no Enclave ponies welcome in this here town. Ah ain’t gonna abide y’ comin’ down in t’ muh town uninvited, stirrin’ up all kinds o’ ruckus and rilin’ up muh citizenry. All y’all Enclave pegasi are more trouble’n yer worth. Ah ain’t bout’ t’ let y’ jus' go ahead an’ get on with whatever it is y’ think yer gonna do here in New Appleloosa. ‘Specially if it ain’t in muh citizens’ best interests. Ah run this here town, and Ah’ll protect it iffin' Ah have to.”

“Look,” I said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, using every last bit of mental fortitude I had intact to refrain from having a breakdown. “I am very badly hurt, sir. I have no first aid supplies, and I need immediate medical attention or I’m going to bleed to death. I’ve lost a lot of blood already, and I’ve already pushed myself too hard just getting here. Please, just let me use your clinic. Don’t make me beg.”

“Ah don’t think y’ heard me, stranger,” the pony replied. “Y’ ain’t welcome here. If y’all Enclave ponies is too good t’ live down here with the likes o’ us, then yer too good t’ use our clinic, too. Why don’t y’ jus’ fly on up back t’ yer friends an’ get patched up there?”

“Because I am hurt,” I explained again, doing my best to keep calm. “I can’t go back anyway, because I left the Enclave. Why else would I be down here?”

“Ah c’n see a few pretty decisive pieces o’ evidence that yer story’s a bunch o’ hogwash, but I’ll humor ya an’ get a second opinion from somepony who knows this stuff a whole mess better’n Ah do.”

My head dipped downward and I swayed woozily on my hooves while the pony stuck a hoof in his mouth and blew a shrill whistle, calling out to somepony else in the town to come to us. I pleaded internally for the pony he was calling to resolve the issue as expediently as possible. I wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. I was completely exhausted, and it was all I could do not to pass out standing right there at the town’s entry gates.

“What’s all the ruckus, Railright?” I snapped my head up to see a pegasus standing beside the pony I’d been speaking to. “Ah ain’t got time t’ dally. Ah gotta git, y’ know Ah got caravan duty t’day.”

The pegasus the pony called Railright had beckoned over was a rust-coated stallion with a black desperado hat perched carefully between his ears. A battle saddle that looked to be heavily customized rode upon his back, and was outfitted with a pair of long rifles. None of these things were what jumped out at me, however. What caught my attention was the mark of burned and long since scarred flesh upon his flank depicting a cloud and lightning bolt. A Dashite? Here?

Why Railright had called this guy over suddenly made perfect sense.

“Ah assume y’ called me over ‘cause o’ this feller here,” the Dashite said, inclining his head at me. “Can’t say as Ah know what it is y’ want me t’ do ‘bout ‘im.”

“It’s real simple, Ah jus’ want ya t’ validate his claim that he ain’t in the Enclave no more,” Railright said, “Ah suspect he’s still with ‘em, and Ah ain’t ‘bout t’ let some Enclave pony into New Appleloosa t’ do whatever the hell they sent him here t’ do. Ah done took a look at his jacket already, an’ it’s loaded with all kinds o’ Enclave patches an’ things.”

“I’m not with the Enclave anymore!” I shouted suddenly, causing the two ponies to jump. “My wing is dislocated and I’ve been shot, I need help. I can’t fix these injuries all on my own! Look, if this is about money, I can pay you. Please, just help me before I die of infection or blood loss.”

“Anymore?” the pegasus quirked an eyebrow and took an acute interest in my recon patch. “Ah can’t say as Ah believe you was ever in the Enclave, stranger. Ain’t no such thing as Neighvarro Recon, an’ believe me, Ah would know. Ah done grew up there, Ah served in the military a’fore Ah came on down here, and we didn’t have no squadrons dedicated to recon. This some kind o’ joke, feller?”

“No joke, I swear. I hate to break it to you, pal, but things have changed since you left,” I wheezed. “We don’t do the bi-annual recon sweeps anymore, and we haven’t for quite a long time. It’s every night now. The higher ups want more information about the Wasteland faster these days. I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on, but it’s become something of an issue of importance with them.”

“Well iffin’ it’s true that ‘y left, then that would make ya a Dashite. The first in quite a long time, Ah reckon.”

“No,” I said immediately. “No, I’m not a Dashite, look.” I turned so that both ponies could see my cutie mark, still proudly displayed—if slightly marred—by my bloody flank. “It was something of a rushed decision. My father landed himself into some hot water, and the only way I could think of to get him off the hook was to take the blame and flee down here. There was no time for them to brand me.”

“Makes yer story a li’l hard t’ corroborate, then,” the pegasus stated, pushing up his hat to scratch at the back of his head and heaving a long, perplexed sigh. “Ah don't really get the feelin' that he's a bad pony, Railright. Ah really don’t think he’ll be any trouble t’ ya, iffin' Ah'm honest. Ah mean… look at the poor feller, he’s covered in blood.”

“Some of that isn’t mine,” I replied, feeling that it was best to be honest. “I ran into some raiders on the way here. It… it didn’t go well for me, that’s why I need help.”

“Regardless o’ whether or not that’s the truth, Ah think y’ c’n trust him, ‘least fer now,” the pegasus said, shrugging at Railright. “An’ if yer that worried about it, jus’ have somepony watch him fer ya. He can’t get up t’ any mischief if y’ got eyes on ‘im.”

“All right, well, Ah better let y’ git back to it, then,” Railright relented. “Ah guess Ah’ll jus’ tell everypony t’ make sure they keep an eye on ‘im, cause goddesses know Ah ain’t gonna let him jus' wander around on his lonesome. C’mon Enclave, the clinic’s right over yonder.”

“Hey,” I called out to the orange buck as he turned to leave. “Thanks for helping me out. Really. I’ve been having a tough time of it since I got down here, and you’re the first pony to really give me the benefit of the doubt.” I stuck out my hoof to shake his, introducing myself as he clasped hooves with me. “I’m Lieutenant Mach, Neighvarro 1st Recon.”

“Cap’n Calamity,” the Dashite answered as we shook, but the second I heard his name, my grip went limp. All I could hear were his words, echoing over and over again in my head. My heart had begun to slam against my ribcage in a blind panic, and I backed away from him slowly, my eyes darting to the rifles mounted on his battle saddle.

“C-Calamity…? Deadshot Calamity…?”

I’d never met him in person, so I’d never known what he looked like, but I had sure as hell heard of him. Everypony knew Captain ‘Deadshot’ Calamity. He’d won the Best Young Sharpshooter’s competition four years running. Years ago, he’d done what I hadn't cared enough to do until just last night—he’d come down here to make a difference. I hadn’t had the opportunity to see enough plight and tragedy in the Wasteland by the time of his defection to have been compelled to do the same. It had taken years of patrols for me to end up as jaded as I was these days.

I remembered being told one thing about the pony shaking my hoof, and I remembered it very clearly. Calamity had been branded and exiled for murdering his entire wing of troops.

A concerned look came over Calamity’s face and he attempted to say something, but all I heard was garbled, distorted noise. I lost my grip on reality for a moment, and it wasn’t until I hit the ground that I realized I’d lost my balance and fallen over. More garbled voices continued to talk above me, but I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Black started to seep in at the corners of my vision, and I gave up fighting. The ground was so comfortable, and it was such a nice time for a nap.

I was barely aware of being lifted before my eyes finally drooped shut and the sweet, cool dark depths of unconsciousness swept me away into glorious oblivion.

> Chapter 6: Collateral Damage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6: Collateral Damage



I was awoken from my slumber the next day by quite the ruckus. Or perhaps fracas would’ve been a more apt descriptor for the clamor. The sound of raised voices shouting urgently wrenched me out of the blissful painlessness of unconsciousness, and a sleep-crusted eye cracked open as I returned once again to the world of the living.

I appeared to have been moved to the clinic at some point after I’d passed out at New Appleloosa’s gates. It was immediately apparent to me that somepony had tended to my injuries while I’d been out. I felt a great deal less like death, and the dislocated joint of my right wing was nothing more than a dull ache—a large improvement over the stabbing, burning pain it had been causing me since I’d dislocated it. A persistent little ache at my fetlock caused me to look down, and I spied an intravenous line taped securely to a spot on my leg that had been shaved bald.

I rose slowly to a sitting position, the sheets from the bed I’d been placed on clutched loosely in my forehooves. A look down revealed that my jacket had been removed, and I could see nothing left of the gunshot wound but a bit-sized patch of bald, scarred flesh. I couldn’t get a good look at my ear or flank, but the sheets weren’t bloodstained, so they had to have been similarly taken care of. I twisted my neck around to get a good look at my wing and unfurled it experimentally, finding it to be stiff and mildly painful, but very much functional. 

Flopping back against the pillow propped up behind me, I sighed in relief. I found myself thanking my lucky stars that the ponies of New Appleloosa had carried me off to their clinic instead of dumping me in a ditch somewhere. They’d patched me up and set my wing, and I was reasonably certain that I’d be able to manage flight now. It would probably be pretty stressful and painful this soon after the injury, but I’d gladly set my recovery back if it meant flying was once again an option. I didn’t have too many advantages going for me—aside from my military training and gear, my wings were just about it.

My head snapped over to the door of the clinic when it was suddenly thrown open. The clamor I’d heard from outside quickly made its way into the small clinic as a group of ponies stormed in. One—a unicorn—levitated a badly wounded raider mare over to a bloodied examination table at the other end of the clinic. I immediately started to panic, thinking the ponies of New Appleloosa had found the corpse of Garrote and were attempting to revive her, until I saw Calamity bringing up the rear—ears drooping, biting his lower lip and fidgeting like he didn’t know what to do with himself. I knew that look—guilt. This was his handiwork. Oh, thank the stars.

Now seemed like a great time to make myself scarce, so I carefully slid the IV out of my leg and oozed out from in between the sheets as stealthily as I could. The shouting over getting the mare stabilized made doing so a very easy feat. I snagged my jacket from where it was hanging on a nearby hook and threw it on, quietly plodding over to the clinic’s door before anypony could spot me.

I rubbernecked on my way out the open clinic door, peering between a pair of ponies to get a look at the wounded raider. My recently-healed wounds throbbed with phantom pain when I noticed that the mare had been dealt similar injuries. Calamity’s high-powered rifles were an entirely different story to a raider’s scavenged little snub-nosed revolver, however. I could see that, like me, the raider had taken two gunshot wounds—one to the hindleg, and another to the shoulder. They were clean hits, and given Calamity’s reputation and guilt-ridden expression, what had happened was abundantly clear.

I paused to gaze curiously at the little unicorn mare bleeding out on the exam table. Something about her was ringing a bell, but I couldn’t quite place what it was… I felt like we’d met before, but that was impossible—I hadn’t met anypony friendly since I’d gotten to New Appleloosa. If I’d crossed her in my travels while she was wearing raider barding, we most likely would’ve traded shots, so it wasn’t that, either.

As much as it was bothering me, I had no time to dwell on it. While these ponies had been tolerant enough of my presence to heal my injuries, it was crystal clear that I wasn’t welcome in New Appleloosa. If they didn’t want me here, I’d gladly leave. There was a wealth of plight to be resolved in the Wasteland, and I was positive I could find some ponies who would all too happily welcome my aid.

Leaving the ponies to tend to the wounded raider, I slipped quietly out of the door with the intention to make tracks. I made it about two steps before I collided with something so solid I could’ve sworn I’d walked straight into a tree.

“Oof!” I exclaimed, rebounding and stepping back so that my hindquarters were back on the other side of the door, inside the clinic. “What the—?”

Standing on the other side of the doorway was a black and grey earth pony stallion, impeding my progress with his hardy bulk. Railright. Shit.

“Goin’ somewhere?”

“Uh…”

“ ‘Cause it looks t’ me an awful lot like yer tryin’ t’ skip town,” Railright said, glowering at me menacingly. “Were y’ plannin’ on payin’ fer the treatment we gave ya? Or were y’ jus’ thinkin’ you was gonna exploit our hospitality an’ skedaddle afore anypony could ask y’ fer money? Ah seem t’ remember y’ sayin’ y’ could pay fer yer medical treatment.”

“L-Look, I…” I stammered nervously. I’d never been good at bouncing back when caught red-hooved. Figuratively speaking. “I was just—”

“Let’s see some money, Enclave,” Railright demanded. “Yer not leavin’ until y’ cough up enough t’ cover what it cost us t’ treat ya.”

My confidence immediately returned with my surging temper. This guy was honestly going to stand there and make me out to be the asshole? He’d been planning to turn me away at the gates until Calamity had talked him into helping me, and I was the dick for trying to slip away without paying for medical treatment he wasn’t even going to give me in the first place?

Okay, yeah, I was still a bit of a dick for trying to skip out on my bill, but Railright was hardly on the moral high ground himself.

“You didn’t even want to help me, why the hell should I pay you?” I snapped.

“Whether or not Ah wanted to don’t make much difference,” Railright said dismissively. “Ah still took ya in an’ had muh ponies tend t’ yer injuries. Ah dunno how they do things up in yer Enclave, but ain’t nothin’ come free in the Wasteland, feller. Now either y’ give me the money y’ owe us, or Ah’ll take it by force. Yer call.”

I stared him down for a good long while, but it was evident that he wasn’t going to budge on this. I was fairly confident that I could just simply fly away from him, but I wasn’t as confident that he hadn’t told his town guards to shoot me if I tried to split. With a frustrated growl, I dug a hoof into my jacket pocket and scooped up all of my Enclave bits. As a last act of petty spite, I tossed all twenty of the small gold coins at the stallion’s hooves so that he’d be forced to pick them up off of the ground. 

“What in tarnation is this?” Railright scoffed as he turned a coin over with his hoof and examined the Grand Pegasus Enclave emblem minted onto the reverse side. “Ah said give me money.”

“That is money, genius,” I sneered. “Twenty bits. Haven’t you ponies ever seen a coin before? Those are all I have.”

“Ah can’t take these.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Ain’t nopony used bits fer currency goin’ on two-hundred years now,” Railright said with a smug smirk. “But Ah doubt you’d know that, holed on up in yer fancy li’l time-capsule paradise above the clouds.” I frowned angrily at him. I could practically see his thoughts laid bare with that expression. He thought he had me by the short hairs. “These days we use bottlecaps fer money. They’re easy t’ come by an’ damn-near impossible t’ reproduce, there’s no exchange rates t’ deal with, an’ they hold up pretty well all things considered.”

“Tough shit, then. I don’t have any bottlecaps.”

“Well then, it appears we got us one doozy o’ a problem here, muh little feathered friend. Iffin’ y’ can’t pay, then Ah’m afraid we’re gonna have t’ find another way t’ settle our li’l monetary dispute.”

“Look, I gave you money,” I snarled angrily. “If you don’t want to accept it, that’s your problem. I guarantee the gold used to mint those bits is worth a whole lot more than the steel in bottlecaps. What’s to stop me from just taking off and leaving you standing here like an idiot?” I said, adopting a crouching stance and spreading my wings to ready for an immediate takeoff. “I’d like to see you chase after me, earth pony.”

To my surprise, Railright chuckled. “Go on ahead an’ leave, Ah ain’t gonna stop ya.” I cocked my head to the side in confusion as he reached behind his back to grab something. “Ah’ll jus’ go on ahead an’ recoup muh losses by sellin’ all yer stuff. Reckon Ah should be able to get a whole heap o’ caps from most o’ yer gear. Them guns especially. Ah can’t rightly say how much somepony’d be willin’ t’ give me fer these, though.”

My heart skipped several beats when Railright produced my lucky goggles and twirled the band around a hoof, and I immediately slapped a forehoof up to my forehead to check if they were there. When all I came into contact with was the tuft of mane above my eyes, I darted forward and swiped at my priceless, confiscated family heirloom.

“Give those back!” I yelled, but Railright had anticipated my move. The stallion stepped back as I lunged, and my hooves met empty air, causing me to fall roughly to the dirt as I overbalanced. “Those have been passed down through my family for generations, you stupid dirt pony asshole! Give them back!”

“Iffin’ ya calm down, Ah got a proposal to make,” Railright said calmly, surprisingly allowing my slight to roll off his shoulders. “Ah won’t sell off all o’ yer worldly possessions iffin’ yer willin’ t’ work off yer debt.”

“What the hell do you want me to do, wash dishes?” I snorted grumpily. “For the record, I’m terrible at it.”

“You’d be washin’ dishes fer quite a while t’ pay back what you owe,” Railright snorted. “There was the wing relocation—that there’s a specialized procedure, givin’ we don’t ‘xactly deal with yer kind often, if ever. Bullet removal, blood transfusion, an’ saline t’ rehydrate ya. Ah believe the total cost came down t’ about three-hundred caps.”

My jaw dropped open. “What in the hell could I possibly do to work off that much debt?” I furrowed my brow and held a hoof to my chin pensively as a thought occurred. “That is a lot of debt, right? I’m not sure what the exchange rate is on bits to caps.”

“Yer from the Enclave, we done established that already, yeah?” Railright began.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, biting my tongue and exercising a monumental amount of effort to quash the snippy remark waiting at the tip of my tongue. “A fact you’ve been sure to frequently remind me of.” Well, I tried.

“An’ you was in the military, right?”

“Right…” I said, narrowing my gaze suspiciously. It was sounding like he was leading up to something that I wasn’t going to want to hear.

“Well, Ah recently caught word from our sister town—Old Appleloosa—that a group o’ li’l foals an’ their escort were captured by some raiders. Ah don’t much care fer their chances o’ survival in raider custody. Either the poor li’l young’uns will be killed by the bastards, or their innocent li’l minds’ll be warped by ‘em an’ they’ll prolly turn raider themselves. Ah’d like y’ t’ head on over an’ bust ‘em loose.”

“Foals?” I blurted loudly. “Foals? Why is it always foals? Let me guess, they’re tied to the railroad tracks while a train barrels inexorably towards them, and there’s also an evil little pony in a top hat twirling his curly moustache and cackling wickedly, isn’t there?”

“C’n y’ do the job or not?” Railright huffed impatiently.

“I could… if I had my gear,” I nickered. “I don’t know how you expect me to free a bunch of foals and their protector without a gun. I was barely strong enough to pass hoof-to-hoof combat training, and I sure as hell haven’t bulked up any since then.”

“Y’ c’n have this,” Railright said, tossing my magical energy pistol to the dirt at my hooves, much as I’d done to him with the bits earlier. “Iffin’ Ah give y’ all o’ yer stuff, then there’s nothin’ keepin’ y’ from just flyin’ on off without takin’ care o’ muh problem. Ah’ll hold it as collateral, an’ you’ll get it back when Ah hear that those foals have made it safely t’ Old Appleloosa.”

I bent down and retrieved my pistol holster, fastening it to my left foreleg while I thought over Railright’s proposition. He had me over a barrel, no question about it. Without my gear, I didn’t stand much chance of surviving out here in the Wasteland, so it was imperative that I reclaimed everything as soon as possible. I’d be damned if I let the bastard hock my goggles for a pile of stars-damned bottlecaps, either. I’d sooner shoot him in the face and incur the wrath of the town than be forced to part with such a treasured possession.

“All right, I guess we’ve got a deal,” I sighed as I finished tightening the holster and looked up to meet the stallion’s gaze. “Just tell me where it is I’m headed to and I’ll try to bust your little pack of brats free.”

“Yer gonna wanna follow the rails out o’ town,” Railright said, turning and pointing towards the distant tracks with a hoof. “Old Appleloosa’s ‘bout an hour’s train ride from here. Now. Them little young’uns was rustled while they was on their way from here t’ there, so them raiders must’ve taken ‘em t’ a place somewheres between the two towns. Reckon it’ll be a snap fer ya t’ find ‘em, what with yer wings an’ all.”

“Why not bug Calamity about this, then?” I asked. “He’s a pegasus, too. And you seem to actually get along with each other, though I can’t imagine why, given your prejudice against Enclave ponies.”

“Calamity don’t owe me money, that’s why,” Railright snapped. “An’ Ah known him a lot longer’n Ah known you. Calamity’s earned muh trust, but you… yer a wild card.”

"All right, fine, I get it,” I sighed in defeat. “I’ll do this for you, but I want your word that you won’t pawn off all of my stuff before I come back to claim it.”

“Iffin’ y’ come back after Ah catch word that them foals is safe, y’ ain’t got nothin’ t’ worry about,” Railright said, sticking out a hoof to shake. “Sure as muh name is Railright, Ah’ll keep yer gear safe so long as y’ don’t screw this up or try an’ run out on yer bill.”

Reluctantly, I grasped hooves with the pony who’d just made my life more difficult and shook to seal the deal.

“You’ll get your damn foals. Just make sure my stuff is ready by the time I get back.”


*                *                 *


I kept an eye trained on the ground beneath me as I made my way slowly towards Old Appleloosa. A smile had worked its way onto my face despite the difficult situation I’d suddenly found myself in. The droning whistle of the wind moving past my ears and the feeling of pure, unadulterated freedom was enough to lift my spirits immensely. Even though it had only been a day or so and my wing joint burned uncomfortably with each flap, it felt so good to fly again.

The landscape lazily drifted by beneath me as I continued my sustained glide, flapping at regular intervals to keep myself at altitude. The object wasn’t to actually reach Old Appleloosa, but to fly as slow as possible without dropping through the air, giving me plenty of time to scan the wastes for any sign of the captured foals or the raiders who’d taken them.

There weren’t many options that I could see, even from my vantage point high above the ground. I looked to both the left and right of the wending rail lines beneath me, but there wasn’t all that much to be seen. This had to have been a rural area in pre-war times, as open wasteland stretched outward for kilometers beneath me in every direction. Every so often a dwelling would crop up, but none of them stood out to me or had obvious signs that anypony had holed up within.

Right around the time the waypoint marker on the ScoutBuck’s automap hit the halfway point between New and Old Appleloosa, something suspicious finally caught my eye. I was just passing over a relatively beautiful old private estate when a flicker in a window drew my attention like a shark to blood. I immediately banked hard, breaking off of my established flight path and speeding up, entering into an elliptical holding pattern over the estate while I examined it from above.

The house itself had two floors and a large second-story veranda that overlooked the massive backyard. Tall plate glass windows overlooked the front of the estate, which featured what must have once been a magnificent white marble fountain encircled by a paved pathway for carriages, both long since cracked from age and the elements. The dead remains of carefully placed hedgework could be seen surrounding the estate and its property line, marking the private residence with a perimeter of dead branches. Another thing that drew my immediate attention was a little cart parked in front of the main entrance—double confirmation that this was the place I was looking for.

I kept my eyes on the windows as I circled the residence, determined to locate the source of the flicker that had initially caused me to investigate. I didn’t have to search very hard, and as I was passing by the estate’s east side for the second time, I again saw the flicker of a light through the windows of a smaller second-story balcony.

“Gotcha,” I muttered triumphantly, and entered into a shallow dive.

I soared down towards the balcony, slowing my descent and alighting gently upon it, so as not to alert anypony within. Carefully, I leaned over to the large sliding glass door that led into the room beyond and peered inside.

Beyond the door was a small bedroom, furnished exactly as one would expect, only with more elaborate, expensive furniture to reflect the owner’s wealth. A large princess-sized bed took up the majority of the room, and the rest of it was taken up by nightstands, an armoire, a large floor-length mirror, and a dresser laden with empty jewelry cases and a multitude of tiny little bottles of perfume. The flickering had originated from a lantern placed on one of the nightstands, and the flame guttered again even as I watched.

I had my hoof on the door handle, and I was just about to slide it open when I heard hoofsteps approaching. A strangled cry of frustration escaped my throat, and I quickly launched myself into the air to hover silently over the balcony. As I watched from my vantage point, a pony slid the door open and made his way out onto the balcony, heading over to the railing and casually leaning a foreleg up against it. He wasn’t dressed like any raider I’d ever seen, but his leather barding didn’t exactly make him look like a beacon of justice, either.

I thought about killing him for a brief moment—just giving him a hard shove straight off the balcony—but decided against it. Stealth was the name of the game here—I wanted to find those foals and get them out as efficiently as possible, and in a way that would minimize injury to myself. No, I wasn’t going to take the risk of killing him and alerting his buddies. Instead, I drifted down silently and landed once again on the balcony, slipping quietly into the bedroom and leaving the pony none the wiser to my presence.

Plush carpet met my hooves as I plodded silently into the bedroom, and they sank a centimeter or two before coming to rest on the floor beneath. The pony who’d wandered out onto the balcony must have been stomping around like an elephant for me to have heard him coming on carpet this soft.

I started moving before the pony could come back inside, crossing the room in several bounding strides that took me to the hallway door silently, due in no small part to my natural lightness on my hooves. Resting a hoof on the door handle and checking over my shoulder to ensure the pony was still on the balcony, I opened the door slowly and slid out into the hallway, thankfully having the presence of mind to shut it carefully behind me.

I took a look around before I moved any further into the estate, wanting to make absolute sure that nopony had spotted me exiting the bedroom. Directly ahead of me the hallway split into three directions, and what appeared to be a living room was directly ahead. As I advanced slowly towards the middle, my view to the right opened up into a massive, spacious, spartanly-furnished room with a fireplace and a veranda that overlooked the estate grounds behind the building. As I crept closer and closer to the center of the hallway, a sudden loud snort caused me to jerk my head to the left.

Exercising as much caution as was possible, I flopped down onto my belly and slowly crawled forward in the direction from which I’d heard the snort. Bits and pieces of the room ahead came into view gradually, a spiraling stairwell first among them. When I finally reached the lip of the landing overlooking what I now recognized as the entrance hall, I slowly leaned my head out, glanced straight down at the floor… and spotted my target.

Beneath me, right at the base of the stairs was a little group of foals—three, all told, along with their earth pony escort, bound and gagged. Both colts were dead to the world, snoring obnoxiously while their little filly compatriot sat patiently, occasionally taking an interest in a nearby object and fixating intently upon it. They didn’t appear to be worried or panicked, and they definitely should have been in the presence of raiders. Could their utter lack of concern be attributed entirely to their naiveté, or was I missing a piece of the puzzle? 

Regardless of whether or not I was missing something, I had a job to do.

Before I up and jumped down there to scoop up the foals and run, I took a moment to scan the rest of the foyer. The ScoutBuck was still refusing to provide me any feedback on potential hostile targets, so I had to rely on my own two eyes. It took a few full sweeps before I located a lone raider keeping watch out of the front door, just barely within my sightline. That blocked the main entrance as an avenue of escape, which left only the balcony from which I’d come—likewise a dead end due to the pony I’d snuck by—or the veranda directly behind me. Veranda it was, then. I was going to have to be very quick and very quiet to get these little foals out without drawing attention.

Without another moment’s hesitation, I hopped over the stairwell’s railing and unfurled my wings, using them to slow my descent and land quietly by the tied up earth pony. The chain of events that followed nearly gave me a heart attack. The earth pony jumped in surprise, causing the little filly to curiously investigate the commotion, and the second she spotted me, her eyes lit up.

“WOW, A PEG—” the little filly squealed excitedly, and I quickly slapped a hoof over her mouth before she could continue.

“Shh!” I hissed, shaking my head negative and holding up my other free hoof to visibly shush her. “You have to be a good girl, okay?” I whispered, checking to make sure the guard hadn’t heard her. “I’m going to get you and your friends out of here, but you need to be quiet. Can you do that for me, kiddo?”

“Mm-hmm,” the filly mumbled through my hoof, and I slowly removed it in case I needed to quiet her again.

“Okay pal, here’s the story,” I said to the foals’ escort as I started fumbling with his bindings. “Railright sent me to bust you guys out of here. Once you’re clear, he’ll finally give me back all of the stuff he’s holding as collateral, so rest assured that I’m pretty motivated to make sure you all get through this in one piece. What do I call you, by the way?”

“Chain Link,” the stallion said as I removed his gag and he rubbed at his sore forelegs where the ropes had cut into him. “What’s your plan, Featherduster?”

“Front door’s guarded, so I was planning on sneaking you guys out to the veranda,” I explained, pointing up and behind me. “I can fly all of you down to the ground one by one and then we can get the hell out of here.”

Chain Link thought it over for a minute. “Nah. I got a better idea. Follow my lead.”

Before I could protest, he’d scooped up both colts and thrown them onto his back, leaving the curious little filly to clamber excitedly up my leg while I wasn’t looking and perch herself upon my shoulders. Once Chain Link had seen that the filly was secure, he bolted straight towards the front door. I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach as his hooves clattered loudly on the old tile floor, drawing the attention of the raider by the front entrance.

“Hurry up, Mister! Let’s go!” the little filly encouraged me, and I took off running after Chain Link, biting my tongue to stifle a string of colorful expletives best not used around young ponies.

“I need backup!” the raider watching the front door bellowed as we charged towards him. “Don’t let them take the foals! We don’t want to lose them to those ponies again!”

That was an oddly coherent and well-spoken sentence for a raider. The motive checked out, though. Raiders didn’t like their merchandise running out from beneath their noses.

Chain Link completely ignored the raider moving to impede his progress, even as he blocked the earth pony’s path and stopped to sight down the barrel of his rifle. Instead, the reckless earth pony continued to charge forward like a bull, throwing out his shoulder and ramming through the raider, casting him aside like he’d weighed practically nothing. I couldn’t argue with those results, and the next thing I knew, we were streaking out through the front door and into the estate’s front yard.

”Come on!” Chain Link shouted, and bolted toward the cart that I’d spotted from the sky. “Hurry up and help me get the foals loaded into the cart, and decide whether you want to pull or shoot!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked as I galloped over to the cart and settled the little filly into it along with the colts, now awake and very much confused.

“Do you want to pull the cart, or do you want to hop in back and defend us?” Chain Link explained. “They’re not gonna let us go without a fight, so one of us needs to stay in back with the foals and keep them off of us. The other one has to pull our asses the hell out of here. Make up your mind quick, because they won’t take long.”

“Do I look like I’m strong enough to pull a cart to you?” I snorted incredulously.

“No, you look like a beanpole.” 

“Well, there’s your answer,” I said, and hopped up into the cart, squishing myself in beside the foals, now all gawking at my wings. “Hey! Hoovsies to yourselves!” I chastised as the filly began rubbing her face up against my feathers and sighing contentedly.

“Take this,” Chain Link said, reaching down to the floor of the cart and tossing me a long rifle that had been resting there before moving to hitch himself up to the cart. “It’s only got two shots, so make ‘em count.”

“Is this… is this a coach g—whoa!”

I ducked as a gunshot went whizzing by my head, and threw a hoof around the wall of the cart as it lurched suddenly into motion. I used my leverage to power through the minor G forces as we continued to accelerate, and propped the coach gun up against the wall of the cart to stabilize my aim. The 'rifle' was a side-by-side double barrel shotgun with triggers designed to be pulled with a hoof. The weight of the triggers had been adjusted accordingly, and required a good hard squeeze to actually fire the weapon. Lining up my first target right between the barrels, I held my breath and squeezed up on the leftmost trigger.

The coach gun roared and kicked back into my shoulder, but I was ready for it. I was used to the natural stabilization of my battle saddle, but I’d spent enough range time with scoped energy rifles to know how to brace for recoil, even if energy weapons had none. Given the nature of a scattergun, my aim didn’t have to be dead on, and I watched my target trip and fall as the hail of shot tore into his forelegs and chest.

My heart skipped a beat when the wounded pony fired off one last shot as he fell, but the bullet bit into the wood of the cart’s wall, and my attention shifted to the second of our pursuers. Once again, I braced the shotgun and took aim, but a bump jostled the cart just as I pulled the trigger, causing my shot to go wide. I cursed as the raider pursuing us escaped unscathed, and dropped the spent coach gun to the floor of the cart to reach down and tug out my energy pistol.

The final pursuing raider’s eyes widened in shock when I started snapping off shots at him, the sudden volley of pink laser bolts completely catching him off guard. I had a bit of difficulty landing my target with the cart’s constant jostling, but a lucky shot or two struck the pursuing pony in the chest, and I suddenly found myself one hostile target short. An eerie magical glow enveloped the pony as my final shot hit home, and he simply disintegrated on the spot, leaving behind nothing but a slightly phosphorescing pile of pink ash.

I heaved a large sigh of relief and flopped back against the cart’s opposite wall, chest still heaving as I came down from the adrenaline rush fueled by combat.

“Mister Pegasus?” the little filly inquired timidly. “Mister? Your leg is hurt, Mister Pegasus.”

“Eh?” I sat up and looked down at myself, and sure enough, my right foreleg was bleeding just below my shoulder. An exploratory glance revealed the bullet that had hit the cart’s wall to have been the culprit. “Huh, I didn’t even feel it. Thanks for letting me know,” I said, reaching down to playfully rustle the little filly’s mane. “I’ll be okay, though. It’s just a little graze, squirt.”

“How are we looking back there?” Chain Link called back from ahead of us. “We clear?”

“As clear as we’re going to get,” I replied. “Only two came after us, and they’re long gone now. Can you make it the rest of the way on your own? I know things didn’t go all that well for you the first time, but I really need to be getting back to Railright to pick up my stuff.”

“Old Appleloosa’s not far from here, I can manage,” the earth pony responded. “You can go ahead and take off. I really appreciate you bailing me out of that mess, though. We really couldn’t afford to lose these kids to those guys.”

“All right, well, good luck,” I said as I stood, wobbling slightly as the cart shifted beneath my hooves. “You little guys stay safe, okay?” I said to the foals surrounding me. “Try not to land yourselves in trouble! There won’t always be a hero to come rescue you, y’know?”

I couldn’t help but smile as the foals sent me off with well wishes and admiration, their cute little voices fading as I took to the skies once again and began my climb to altitude. This wasn't so bad. It was a lot like what I used to do, actually. Behind flying for the Wonderbolts, that was the whole reason I'd signed on with the Enclave military—to protect my friends and family, should we ever go to war again. I still didn't think much of the ponies down here, but maybe they weren't all savages. I'd just been blackmailed into liberating a group of foals from raiders, after all.

Maybe I could find a purpose down here... If the price was right.

You done good, Mach, I thought proudly to myself. So shines a good deed in a bleak and hopeless world. Looking back, I watched as the cart continued to roll towards a large settlement in the distance. “Enjoy your new life, you adorable little scamps,” I said as I continued to fly away and they grew smaller and smaller. “Not every day you get a second chance. Here’s hoping it goes better for you this time around.” It didn’t get much better than freedom. Things were definitely looking up for those foals. 

Filled with a sense of satisfaction, I sped off towards New Appleloosa, eager to finally reclaim all of my stuff and move on to the next person who needed some work done.


*                *                 *


“Ya done good, stranger,” Railright said as he handed over all of my possessions and I set to putting them all back where they belonged. “Ah didn’t think you’d be able t’ pull it off, but y’ made a fool out o’ me, Ah reckon.”

“It’s in the past,” I said dismissively as I adjusted my goggles to seat properly on my forehead. “You held up your end of the deal, so there’s no animosity between us. I do have one last favor to ask of you, though.”

“What c’n Ah do fer ya, feller?”

“I’m looking for work,” I said. “This was a good start, but I need to keep it up if I’m going to afford to keep myself fed and healthy. Is there anyone around here that might need the services of a former soldier? Anyone at all?”

Railright was silent a moment before perking up as a thought came to him. “Well now, Ah might have jus’ the thing fer ya. There’s a band o' mercenaries out here who operate out o’ a nearby rail junction—Junction R-7. Ah imagine they should be able to set you up with work real nice. Them solder o’ fortune types are always takin’ volunteers, ain’t they?”

“Rent-a-solders, huh?” I murmured thoughtfully. “Well it’s a start, I guess. At the very least, it’ll provide me a jumping-off point and it’s not like I don’t already know how to do everything a mercenary can do. What’s the worst that could happen?”


*                *                 *


I grunted as I was driven roughly to the ground and my face was mashed into the dirt by a massive clawed appendage wrapped entirely around my head. A second claw had evidently been used to take hold of a weapon, as the next thing I knew a barrel was being pressed firmly to my skull.

“Gimme an excuse t’ pull the trigger, ya little pegasus fuck!” A female voice screeched from behind me. “Go ahead an’ make my day!”

“Get the fuck off of me, you mangy, flea-bitten, twisted freak of nature!” I growled, my words mumbled as my face was held tightly against the ground. “You griffon bitch! I bet you wouldn’t be such hot shit without all of your buddies to back you up!”

“I’m gonna ask ya one question before I splatter your brains all over the ground,” the griffoness hissed dangerously. “Who do you work for? Is it Deadeyes? Answer me!”

“Eat shit,” I snarled, and spat on the ground. “Your kind crippled my father. It’s your fault he turned into such a miserable asshole and ruined my life. Given the chance, I’d kill every last one of you, and if I’d known I was being set up to meet with a band of griffons, I would’ve kneecapped the asshole that pointed me this way.”

“I asked ya if you were workin’ fer Deadeyes!” the griffon screeched loudly, pressing her gun harder into my skull. “Answer me before I paint the dirt red!”

“By the Great Egg, what in the hell is goin’ on out here?” A gruff female voice exclaimed, her tone rife with experience and world weariness. I heard the familiar whoosh of a large set of wings moving through the air, and felt a gentle breeze from a downdraft as a large creature landed nearby with a crunch of dirt and grit. “Got a new toy, Reggie? What did this one do?”

“Flew into our airspace and opened fire on us when we moved t’ investigate,” the griffon pinning me—Reggie—snarled angrily. “Didn’t even have time t’ ask him what his business with us was before he opened up on us with an energy pistol. I think he’s workin’ fer Deadeyes. I was just tryin’ t’ get that information outta him, as a matter of fact.”

“Who the fuck is Deadeyes?” I scoffed irritably. “I’ve never even met anypony named Deadeyes! Fucking Railright sent me this way!”

I heard the clacking of beaks, and the griffoness hesitated, her grip on me slackening a smidge. “…Railright? That pony that runs the show over in New Appleloosa?”

“Yes!” I bellowed angrily. “I don’t know what your beef is with this Deadeyes guy, but I don’t work for anypony. I’m an Enclave fugitive! Sweet stars above, you buzzards are fucking dense!”

The griffons stirred restlessly at my slight, and I realized too late that I may have made a mistake in letting my prejudice determine my response. I couldn’t help it—they were the enemy. Ever since we’d attacked their homeland to replenish our steadily-dwindling resources, there had been bad blood between the Enclave and the Griffon Kingdom, and given the hot-headedness of our respective races, it had never quite cooled down. 

“Let him up.”

“What!?” both Reggie and I blurted incredulously.

“But Mom—”

“Let him up, Reggie,” the second griffoness repeated. “I want to speak with him. Take his weapons and meet me in my office. Both of you.”

Reggie and I watched in stunned silence as her mother turned and began to walk deeper into the junction, past a massive energy cannon mounted to a train car that instantly drew my eye like a magnet. The seasoned old griffoness made her way towards a passenger car—the only other train car that had been coupled to the locomotive just ahead of it. Once she’d opened the door and slammed it shut behind her, I turned to the juvenile griffoness that had pinned me to the ground not a moment earlier.

“If you so much as touch my weapons, I’ll cut your fucking beak off,” I snarled. “Always wanted to peel a griffon’s beak off with my knife and keep it as a trophy.”

“I’d like to see you try it, you cocky little punk,” Reggie snarled, seizing my leg in one beefy claw and wrenching it behind my back, forcing me roughly back to the ground. I struggled against her hold as she undid the straps on my battle saddle, as well as my pistol holster and knife sheath, and she only let me up once she’d taken all of them into her possession. “Now get movin’ before I start breakin’ bones.”

I made a noncommittal grunt and followed after Reggie’s mother, examining the energy cannon as I passed it by. That was a lot of firepower. The thing would easily be powerful enough to completely vaporize anything dumb enough to get caught in the blast radius. Did these griffons even need that kind of firepower for defense? It seemed an awful lot like overkill. Then again, there really was no kill like overkill. Better safe than sorry.

Tearing my eyes away from the cannon, I focused forward as we neared the passenger car. Reggie had stuck to my flank like glue the entire way, making sure I was under her scrutinizing gaze at all times. It wasn’t like I couldn’t just shoot straight up if I’d really wanted to flee, but I went along with it anyway. I’d already done this dance with Railright, and I really didn’t want to lose my gear a second time.

I took a look around as I entered the passenger car, noting immediately that the furnishings were relatively unimpressive. The only decoration within the room was a large flag behind a desk flying the symbol of a griffon’s talon. I strode over to the desk and took up position directly in front of it, glancing over at the terminal sitting upon it as Reggie’s mother took note of my arrival. Reggie herself left us to stand guard by the door, presumably to make sure I didn’t attempt to flee.

“Okay, my little racist,” said Reggie’s mother, placing both claws on her desk and leaning over to tower above me. “You mind tellin’ me why you flew into my junction and opened fire on my talons? I seem to remember you sayin' somethin' about Railright.”

“I was looking for work,” I explained, forcing myself to be patient. “Railright said he could hook me up with a contact that would be willing to pay money for jobs that require my specific skillset. I’m a reconnaissance specialist and an automatic riflepony, so I didn’t think it would be too hard to land a steady job. Intel is priceless, and as long as there are two people left alive on the planet, somepony is going to want somepony dead. If I’d known that Railright was setting me up to meet griffons, though, I never would have come.”

“Oh, I’ve got work for ya, all right,” the old griffoness said, a cruel smile turning up a corner of her beak. “You’ve got wings and you don’t work for Topaz—that means you’re the only person I can use to get this job done. Let me make this crystal clear right now—you’re going to help me out, and you’re not going to give me a hard time about it. You said you were an Enclave fugitive? Well, I’ll tell them exactly where you are and that they can come and collect you if you decide you don’t want to cooperate. Alternatively, I don’t let you leave this train car alive.”

"I guess my hooves are fucking tied, aren't they," I growled, quivering with rage when I realized that once again, I’d been manipulated into helping someone against my will. “What’s the stars-damned job?"

The griffoness smiled again. “Tell me, Enclave, what do you know about Stables…?”
> Chapter 7: Strange Friends, Stranger Places
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7: Strange Friends, Stranger Places



My mane crawled, and I shivered as a chill worked its way up my spine. “Not nearly enough to make me comfortable about what I imagine you’re about to ask of me.” I nickered and pawed at the floor of the train car with a hoof. “The Enclave seized the resources of all high-altitude stables years ago, long before my time. I’ve never been a part of a recovery operation.”

“Don’t need you fer recovery,” the griffoness said, leaning over her desk to grab the sleeve of my flight jacket and wrench my leg upward so that the patch was within my field of view. “I need you fer this.”

“Wha… recon?” I said, dumbfounded. “You want me to reconnoiter a stable?”

“Somethin’ like that,” the old bird said as she released me and sat back in her chair. As I adjusted my jacket, she rested her forelegs on the desk, tenting her talons and glaring over them at me with a single, unblinking eye. The other was pinched shut, the eyelid marred by a brutal scar that ran down the side of her face and across her beak. “I’ve recently caught word of a stable nearby. It’s one of the high-altitude stables you mentioned a minute ago—built into the depths of a mountain. Now, what I’d like t' do is keep this a secret from certain individuals that I happen t' be affiliated with. I need a neutral party. A person… unconnected with any major organization fer this job.”

“Why?” I asked, narrowing my gaze. “What could you possibly gain from sending me into a stable to scope it out?”

“That ain’t none of your concern, pony,” the old bird growled, clacking her beak angrily. “All I need you t’ do is get in there, check the place out and give me the breakdown when you get back.”

“And suppose I refuse unless you decide to level with me?”

“I don’t have a problem tyin’ you up like a little pig and tossin’ you back up through the cloud cover, you cocky little punk,” the griffoness snarled, slapping both claws down on her desk and rising to her feet. “Seem t’ remember you mentioning bein’ a fugitive? If you really are on the lam, I’m sure yer people would love t’ get their grubby hooves on you again.

“You’re mine, little pony. Understand? You work fer Gawd, so don’t expect t’ go anywhere until you’ve completed this job fer me. Once our contract is complete, you’re free t’ go on your way. You want t’ shoot at some griffons? Fine. Go shoot at griffons that don’t work fer me. Maybe pay Red Eye a visit if you’re feeling lucky.”

I seethed quietly for a moment, grinding my teeth angrily and feeling my ears reflexively twitching out of irritation. She didn’t really have me over a barrel, did she? There had to be a way out of this, something I wasn’t seeing…

I cracked a toothy grin as the solution to my problem came to me.

“All right, fine,” I shrugged, my wry smile still turning up the corner of my mouth. “I’ll do your stupid recon work. If all I have to do is trot through an empty stable and report my findings, I’ll be on my way again inside the better part of an hour. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get right to it. I’m a busy pony and I have things to do.”

“Reggie…” the old griffoness sighed impatiently as I turned my back on her.

At her mother’s suggestion, the adolescent griffoness moved to impede my path, blocking the door with her large frame and stopping me with a beefy palm to the chest. “Not so fast, pal.”

Before I could inquire as to what their problem was, Gawd—if that was her actual name—had slipped out from behind her desk and stomped over to where I was standing by the door.

“What, you think I’m stupid?” Gawd asked, and cut me off as I opened my mouth to fire back a snippy response. “If you think I’m just gonna let you walk out that door, you’ve got another thing coming. What’s stoppin’ you from takin’ off the second you’re outside? I need collateral—somethin’ important you won’t be caught dead without.”  

I was so dumbfounded that she’d seen right through my plan that I wasn’t able to duck as Gawd’s claw reached towards me. The griffoness seized the ScoutBuck and tugged it roughly free of my ear, holding me at foreleg’s length as I tried and failed to snatch it back. “This looks pretty valuable. You can have it back once I get what I want.”

“I need that, you can’t take that!” I protested adamantly.

“We’ll hang on to your guns, then.”

“But what if there’s…” I hesitated, feeling a little foolish that I would even think such a thing. “What if there are… things in the stable? Hostile targets? I’ll need my guns to protect myself.”

“Well, pick one or the other or give me somethin’ equally valuable t’ hold as collateral. What’s so important about this stupid thing that you can’t part with it fer a couple hours?” Gawd asked, turning her head sideways so she could fixate her lone piercing eye on the device. “Is it some kinda Enclave gizmo?”

“It’s my navigation system,” I said simply, not willing to reveal any more of the ScoutBuck’s abilities, lest the greedy mercenary decide to keep it for herself. “If I don’t have it, how am I going to find my way to the stable and back? Or is this whole thing just a snipe hunt that’ll wind up getting me killed? Stars know you wouldn’t care if I dropped dead right here.”

“I won’t lie—I really don’t care what happens t’ you one way or the other,” Gawd said. “But I’m damn sure not settin’ you up t’ fail. If I send anyone else t’ check out that stable, I’ll be drawing suspicion t’ myself. With you, I can get away with it easily.

“That said, if this is how you’ve been traveling from place t’ place without gettin’ lost, I think one person can probably slip outta here without arousin’ any suspicion. Reggie will show you the way—I don’t want to hear it, Reggie,” Gawd snapped as the young griffoness opened her beak to argue. “Show the pegasus t’ the stable and get back here pronto, am I understood?”

“Yeah, Mom…” Reggie sighed miserably in a vibrant display of reluctant obedience. Turning to me, she locked a claw around my foreleg like a vise and dragged me roughly out of the train car. “Let’s go, you little twerp. I ain’t got all day.”

“Hey!” I snarled as I tripped and fought to get my remaining three hooves underneath me. “Get your damn claws off me, I can walk just fine! You’re only making it more difficult for me to balance!”

“Tch, do you always whine this much?” Reggie scoffed as I wrenched my foreleg out of her grip. “Here, take your damn weapons back. Don’t try anythin’ funny or I’ll gut you like a damn fish.”

My stomach churned nervously and I shuddered at the memory of Garrote’s eviscerated entrails, but I accepted my effects from the griffoness and set to re-equipping them.

Reggie leered at me with a raised eyebrow as I worked my way into my battle saddle, though I pretended not to notice the odd look she was giving me. I cinched up the strap around my chest nice and tight, checking to make sure the bridle was within easy reach and giving my wings an experimental test flap to ensure that I had proper clearance. Only when I was sure that everything was in order did I raise my eyes to meet hers.

“You’re kind of a freak, aren’t you?” When all I gave her in return was a disgusted scowl, she took it upon herself to elaborate. “Your wi—”

“I know what you mean, now drop it before I slap the taste out of your mouth,” I snapped testily. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand here and be judged by a griffon.”

“Oh jeez, whatever,” Reggie huffed, sighing in exasperation and rolling her eyes. “Just see if you can keep up, freak.”

“This has not been a good start to my life down here,” I muttered as Reggie lifted off and began to gain altitude. I followed suit, launching into the air and putting on a sudden burst of speed to rapidly close the distance between us. Reggie didn’t wait for me to catch up, and instead flew off in the direction of a small mountain range in the distance when I drew near. “Two separate circumstances of having my stuff held hostage is a dangerous precedent. In the same day, no less,” I continued unabated.

“So what the hell is yer problem with us, anyway?” I turned with a start at the abrupt lurch into conversation, noticing that I was no longer on the griffoness’s tail. I’d been so caught up in my own thoughts that I’d missed her braking to slide back high and just off of my right wing. “Nobody just up and opens fire on complete strangers without any provocation. Are you some kinda psycho or somethin’?”

“I really shouldn’t have to explain this to you,” I sighed. “Enclave ponies hate griffons, and griffons hate Enclave ponies. That’s just the way it is. The way it’s always been.”

“Nuh-uh,” Reggie said, shaking her head dismissively. “There’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“If you have to know, my dad lost partial function in his right wing to a griffon’s talons,” I growled impatiently. “Ever since then, he’s been a crotchety, miserable old asshole. My mom told me that he used to be a lot like me when he was younger. Easygoing, cocky, the life of the party. Now he’s just a jaded old dinosaur hell-bent on making everything more difficult than it has to be. Your kind ruined my father. You ruined my life.”

“How old are you, again?”

“Older than you, why does it matter?” I sneered.

“Because you have the attitude of a spoiled little cub, that’s why,” Reggie shot back. “Did you ever grow up? What kinda grown stallion blames a whole race of people fer his father’s attitude? What kinda grown stallion blames his father fer ruining his life, fer that matter? You’re more of an immature little punk than I am, an’ I’m younger than you. That’s sad, pal.”

“Piss off, catbird.”

“It’s a damn good thing my mom needs this job done, or else I’d break you in half like a little twig and tell her you had an ‘accident’ en route to the stable.”

“Lucky me,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

Following a dark glare from the griffoness, I made the very wise decision to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the flight. Reggie soared on ahead now that she had nothing more to ask of me, and in all reality probably wanted nothing to do with me at all. I made a mental note to at least try and curb my hostility a smidge. Dad had almost been eviscerated by these chimeric savages, and the same could very well happen to me if I wasn’t careful. I didn’t have my friends to help me out when I shot my mouth off anymore.

Thankfully the awkward silence didn’t have to stretch on for long. A sudden motion by Reggie drew my attention, and I entered into a shallow dive to follow. We were fast approaching a craggy mountain with dull grey features that were a perfect match for the overcast skies. Reggie’s target was a small, roughly-hewn cave entrance high on the mountain, located at a spot somewhere in the neighborhood of three-quarters of the way up.

I caught up to Reggie as she paused to hover in place just outside the cave entrance and drew up just beside her. I tried peering into the cave mouth to assess any potential danger, but it was a futile effort. The dim light making its way through the cloud cover only managed to illuminate a small patch of rock about a meter into the tunnel.

Well. This would be interesting, for sure.

“This is it,” Reggie said simply, and turned her back to leave. “Have fun.”

“Wait, that’s it?” I said, turning to give the griffoness a look of utter disbelief. “You’re just gonna dump me right here at the entrance and leave?”

A startled cry escaped my lips when Reggie’s claw suddenly shot out and seized my neck. Powerful digits wrapped around the lean muscle of my throat, razor-sharp talons digging into my skin just deep enough to cause discomfort. I could feel incredible tension in those claws. Reggie could have very well crushed my windpipe like a paper cup. Instead, she merely yanked me through the air to press her forehead to mine and glare hatefully into my eyes.

“I ain’t got time to show you around,” Reggie snarled, and I shivered when I heard a guttural growl rumbling in her chest that underlined her words. “I’m supposed to show you where the place is and get back ASAP. It was risky enough having me show you the way here. The whole reason we’ve never scoped the place out on our own is because we don’t want anyone else to know about it. Now get in there and do what you’ve been told to do.”

The next thing I knew, I was sailing through the air. Being caught off guard afforded me no time to start flapping, and pain flared up in my shoulder as I landed roughly on the uneven cave floor and tumbled to a stop.

“Call me 'catbird' again and I’ll tear yer intestines out and use ‘em to choke you to death,” Reggie yelled into the cave before departing. Touchy.

I pushed myself up and glanced over at the shoulder that had taken the impact. The fabric of my jacket had torn open on a jagged piece of rock on the cave floor, likewise leaving behind a nasty scrape. I sighed and held a hoof to stem the bleeding until it could clot on its own. I’d landed at the mouth of the cave, and I turned to gaze down its length at the enormous cog-shaped door that sealed the stable.

I really, really didn’t want to go in there. Naturally I didn’t have a problem with being indoors, but the interior of a stable was indoors to the nth degree. The very thought of being trapped underground with thousands of tons of rock pressing at me from all sides was enough to turn my stomach. What if a support failed? I’d be crushed into such a fine particulate my body wouldn’t even be identifiable by the best medical examiners alive.

I hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before placing one hoof forward. “I… I can do this. I have to do this. I don’t have any other options right now.” Fighting the impulse to start hyperventilating, I made my way towards the door one step at a time. My eyes were locked to the ceiling the whole way, half expecting a stalactite to dislodge and smash me into a messy little pegasus pancake.

To my immense relief, I made it all the way to the stable door without sustaining grievous bodily harm. A glance at the massive steel door revealed a scuffed and faded number 18 painted in yellow numerals upon its center. Reaching over to a nearby control panel, I rested my hoof on a large switch and hesitated. What if the occupants had gone insane from being cooped up for two centuries, and they rushed out to murder the first thing they set eyes on? What if they didn’t want to leave the stable, or thought I had ill intent at heart and they shot me just for opening the door? What if the door opened and poisonous gas poured out and suffocated me? What if…

I shook my head. No. Those were stupid thoughts. At best, the stable would be perfectly preserved and the occupants relieved to see that ponies still lived following the Great War. At worst, everypony within had run out of supplies to keep themselves alive and had perished long ago. Without another moment’s hesitation, I threw the lever forward.

A klaxon began to blare from inside the stable before quickly dying with a pitiful squeal, and with an ear-piercing screech of metal on metal that set my teeth on edge, the enormous cog slid inward and rolled to the side.

Reluctantly, I plodded into the stable’s antechamber with my head hung and my ear drooping, my fears already partially confirmed by what I saw. The interior of the stable was dead silent except for the constant drip, drip, drip, of a leaky pipe from somewhere deep within. Air rushed past me as the pressures between the stable’s interior and the outside equalized, carrying with it the acrid tang and musty dampness of rust and mildew. This place hadn’t been occupied for a long, long time.

I took a breath of the stable’s stale, heavy air and a sense of palpable dread hit me like a freight train. Why couldn’t I catch my breath? Oh stars, I was breathing poisonous gas, wasn’t I? The floor beneath my hooves lurched and I grabbed a nearby railing to keep from falling over, panting like I’d just run a marathon. The room around me was spinning now, and I gasped as the walls began to close in around me. I had to get out! I had to get out before I got smashed to bits!

I ditched the railing and bolted for the open stable door, wobbling unsteadily towards the cave tunnel in an erratic zig-zag pattern. My hoof caught a groove at the threshold meant for the stable door’s passage and I tripped, landing flat on the rough, cold stone of the entrance tunnel. My battle saddle’s straps were suddenly uncomfortably tight and I fumbled with them in my panic, throwing the heavy assembly off of my back and tearing my jacket off soon after.

Only when my bare coat was exposed to the open air was I able to catch my breath, and I took it in with huge gulps like a pony on the verge of drowning. I spent the next several minutes breathing as if I’d never get the chance to again. I didn’t snap out of it until a chill blew through the cave and gently rustled my feathers, mane and tail. No longer fueled by adrenaline, my hindlegs quivered and gave out beneath me. I plopped down on the cold stone floor, shivering at the cool breeze.

I shot a suspicious glance over my shoulder at the stable’s antechamber. It looked just as it did when the door had opened. None of the walls had compressed like a massive trash compactor and the floor was as level as level could be.

I shivered again and scooped up my jacket, pausing after I’d fed only one leg through a sleeve. What in Polaris’ name had happened to me? I’d never been that terrified before in my life, and I’d come close to death several times before. It couldn’t have been poison gas or psychedelic drugs in the stable’s air, or I’d still be hallucinating. I seemed to be comfortably lucid at the moment, so that certainly ruled out gas or aerosolized drugs.

Whatever had happened, I couldn’t let it keep me from pushing forward. I briefly considered ditching the ScoutBuck and flying off to some other corner of the Wasteland, but quickly dispensed of the notion. Laziness may have been one of my biggest flaws, but I never abandoned the mission. There was a job I needed to do, and by Polaris, I was going to get it done. Heaving my battle saddle up onto my back again, I secured it and headed back towards the open stable door.

Barely a hoof past the threshold, I felt my stomach twist like a pretzel. I planted my hooves wide as the dizziness hit me again, and fought to keep my breathing even. I could’ve sworn I even saw the walls moving out of the corners of my eyes, but whenever I turned my head to focus, they were right back where they were supposed to be. I felt cornered. Trapped with no way out inside an abandoned, glorified bomb shelter comprised entirely of cramped rooms and corridors.

And then it hit me. Claustrophobia. I was claustrophobic.

I’d never really considered the possibility that I might be claustrophobic, but then again, I’d spent my entire life living in wide open skies. Barring some time I’d spent on Thunderhead and Raptor-class cloudships, I had no experience with this sort of thing. Even so, I had to find a way to deal with this, and I had to do it now.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Almost immediately, my blind panic melted away without the confines of the stable to assault my sight. All I had to do was shoot through this place and report back to those filthy buzzards and I’d be on my way. Just a quick in and out. I could tolerate that for a little while. Just think about big spaces. Endless blue skies with plenty of room to fly.

My eyes snapped open. A wave of mild nausea washed over me, but only for a moment. I placed one trembling hoof forward, and when I didn’t collapse from dizziness I pushed onward, emboldened.

The stable’s interior was damp and cold—far colder than the ambient temperature outside. Light from dim emergency fixtures cast flickering shadows across the vast, featureless concrete corridors. Most metal surfaces had been claimed by rust, seizing several doors with corrosion and making passage through some areas impossible. All was silent save for the steady dripping of leaking pipes and my own hooves echoing with every step. I was barely aware of the sound of my own breath on every exhalation, weirdly amplified by the stable’s acoustics. Occasionally, a light breeze would blow in from the entrance tunnel, and the low howl of the wind’s passage sent shivers up my spine.

Nothing noteworthy jumped out at me on my trek into the stable’s depths. It wasn’t until I walked through a door and into a cavernous room that I actually stopped to take a closer look at my surroundings.

I was standing in a massive hub room, an atrium of sorts. Several doorways branched off and snaked outwards into the stable’s outer reaches. On the second floor above me, a pathway encircled the room in a series of balconies that overlooked the floor below. At the very top of one wall was a large glass half-dome with a dark room beyond. As to its purpose, I could only conclude that it was to watch over the stable’s residents as they went about their activities in the atrium beneath.

I felt a lot more at ease knowing that the stable wasn’t just a maze of suffocatingly narrow hallways. That fact alone didn’t make me feel much better, though. Now that I had an idea of just how large the stable was, I was feeling a lot less enthusiastic about my time estimate for a recon sweep. Truth be told, I didn’t even know where to begin. Signs were posted up over many of the adjoining hallway doors, though none really stood out as worthy of investigation. None but one—Overmare’s Office.

Overmare. That sounded an awful lot like a position of power. Perhaps this was the stable ponies’ analogue to our High Council? If that was indeed the case, this office seemed like my logical next step. There would undoubtedly be much to learn in there, and any information I found stood a good chance of placating Gawd’s thirst for intel.

With a clear goal to work towards, I felt myself relax a smidge. Substituting the chaos of a nebulous objective with a single, focused task quenched my thirst for structure. Military life had taught me to embrace order and routine with open hooves, even if it did start to wear on the nerves after awhile. 

I took a second to get my bearings, directing my gaze towards a darkened sign with a broken bulb that pointed me in the direction of the Overmare’s office. As I was trotting over to the open door, something stuck to a nearby support beam caught my eye. Curious, I meandered over to the rusted steel girder and peered at the object affixed to it. It appeared to be an old poster. Worn and faded, a great portion of the top had been torn away, leaving behind nothing but a small shred bearing a short motivational quip.


Remember, stable residents! Your body is your number one priority! 
An unhealthy pony is a dead pony! 
In the radioactive wastes, stay fit or you'll be paste!


“That is the corniest thing I’ve ever read in my life,” I snorted derisively, continuing on past the poster and chuckling to myself.

This far into the stable, the sound of the wind at the entrance had faded completely. With the exception of my hooves and breathing, everything was dead silent. The thick, uncirculated air felt like I was trying to inhale marshmallow and made catching my breath difficult. There couldn’t have been much breathable air left in the stable. Barely enough for a hoofful of ponies, I imagined. It was probably a good thing that I’d discovered this Overmare’s office. The second I got all the necessary info on this place, I was out of here like last year.

I soon found that the stable didn’t appear to be as empty as I’d initially thought.

The first thing to jump out at me was the wet splat my hoof made as it came down into a puddle I hadn’t seen in the low light. I paused to investigate and saw a dark liquid smeared on the bottom of my hoof. A curious whiff revealed a familiar coppery scent that made my mane crawl. Blood. 

Fresh blood.

I noticed a good deal more as I let my hoof drop to examine my surroundings. Signs of severe structural damage pockmarked the corridor. It looked almost as if somepony had let loose with a cannon or a wrecking ball. Massive gouges were smashed and torn out of the concrete, littering the hallway with stone fragments of varying sizes. My gaze was eventually drawn to bright white score marks that ran along one wall before stopping abruptly. Jumping the gap in the trail led me back down to the floor where the scrape continued on for a few meters and faded.

The blood trail, as it turned out, followed the scrapes in a parallel, if broken trajectory. The largest deposit of it was near where the scrapes had terminated, and a series of thinner, stuttering lines led off deeper into the stable. Somepony was in here with me, and they were wounded.

What was worse, I had no idea who or what had injured the victim.

I checked my weapons, making sure the coilgun’s microspark cell was plugged in and the magazine was seated properly. I also took care to undo the strap securing my pistol in its holster, as well as the one on my knife sheath. I couldn’t leave anything to chance. If I didn’t prepare to run across whatever had done all this damage, I’d be a dead pony.

I started forward and strained my hearing for anything out of the ordinary. I figured that the smartest thing to do would be to locate the wounded pony. A wounded pony was a twitchy pony, and the last thing I needed was a bullet in the back while dealing with the cause of all this damage. If they weren’t too badly hurt, I could even help them and hope they’d be willing to team up to make sure we got out of this place alive. 

The rancid stench of decay hit me like a brick as I moved closer to the drying pool of blood. So much for a rescue. Well, at least I could scavenge any possessions off of their corpse. Stars knew I needed everything I could get my hooves on down here.

I took care to step around the small puddle of crimson, but in doing so, my hoof brushed up against something solid. Whatever it was went skittering across the hallway and knocked into the wall, assaulting my ears with a veritable cacophony of noise that caused me to cringe. When my panicked heart finally slowed down, I opened my eyes and peered around until I’d found what I’d just kicked into the wall. The large, vaguely-spherical object had come to rest a short distance away, and I approached to investigate. It was metallic in nature, and appeared to be a helmet of some sort. Placing a hoof up against it, I carefully rolled it over and felt my blood turn to ice water in my veins.

An Enclave helmet.

What the hell was an Enclave helmet doing in a stable? Smack-dab in the middle of a pool of fresh blood, no less. To my knowledge, no ground operations had been authorized in recent memory. How had this trooper found his way into a sealed stable? Was it another Dashite refugee like Calamity? Could he have been injured by Enclave pursuit and fled here to recuperate? 

No, that didn’t make sense. Calamity was the last Dashite since Radar, and he’d left a long, long time ago. The wounds weren’t consistent with typical Enclave combat doctrine, either. Unless they’d closed to grips  and wounded the trooper with a bladed power armor tail, there wouldn’t have been any blood. Anypony who’d fought a power armored trooper in close quarters wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale, either. No, this was something else.

I picked the helmet up and turned it over in my hooves. It had sustained damage consistent with the battered hallway. A few dents pockmarked its pristine black surface, and a large spot of paint had been scuffed away right above the trooper’s left brow. Typically, Enclave soldiers with power armor training painted their names above the left brow, but the only thing left was bare grey steel. That threw any chance at identifying the pony right out the window.

That said, the helmet was still remarkably intact. Even the fragile, bulbous insectoid visor was unharmed. Power armor helmets weren’t just for protection, which made this find a very happy accident. Integrated into each helmet were many features that PipBucks came with standard. Maps and E.F.S. systems, and probably the most helpful at the moment—infrared spell matrices for night ops. Perhaps even better than all of that was the fact that proper training wasn’t necessary to know how to use a helmet. Without the ScoutBuck in my possession, this helmet was a gift from the stars themselves.

“Finders, keepers,” I said with a grin, and slid the helmet onto my head. It was snug, and I had a little trouble wiggling my intact ear through the hole at the top, but it fit decently enough. “Ugh,” I exclaimed in disgust, scrunching up my muzzle at the fetid stench of decay. “Shame these things don’t cover the whole head. It smells like a bloated, dead cow over here.”

The stench had increased tenfold by now, and I jammed a hoof over my mouth to keep from retching. I nearly puked out of sheer panic when a burbling, gravelly voice called out from behind me.

“You’re a disgrace, little pony,” the voice said in a guttural rumble. “Look at that bod—you’re all bony!”

I stood stock-still and slowly turned to look over my shoulder. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat, and it was all I could do not to scream. Outlined by my new helmet’s visor was a behemoth of a creature. Hunched over in the low corridor was a bipedal monstrosity practically rippling with muscle. The visor’s thermal imaging made discerning minor details very difficult, as it was a simple system that enveloped targets and environments with colored outlines. I had no idea what in the hell I was looking at, but one thing was for sure—this monster was huge.

Primal fear tore at my gut, and I could feel my leg muscles tense up in response to my distress. Instinct told me to take flight and get myself out of harm’s way immediately, but I didn’t have enough room to unfurl in the choked confines of the stable. Blind panic started to settle in when I realized that even if I ran, I had no idea where I was going.

Within the next few seconds, that all became irrelevant. The creature lunged forward with one freakishly gnarled appendage, and I took off running without a second thought.

A furious snarl from behind me motivated me to double my speed, and I skidded around a corner as the corridor took a sharp turn to my right. I could hear whatever it was struggling to keep up with me, thunderous steps making the solid floor beneath my hooves quake. The sound of shattering concrete caused me to shoot a quick glance over my shoulder, and I yelped in abject terror when I saw the creature make the same turn. Its sheer velocity and bulk caused the wall to crack and crumble as it failed to make the corner as deftly as I had. Barely fazed, it merely shook its horned head and continued pursuit.

This thing had too much strength. If it caught me, it’d tear me right in two.

I had to find a way to lose it. A way to circle around or double back to confuse it and lead it in a circle. Anything to increase the distance between myself and certain death. For now, all I could do was follow the path ahead of me. I bolted up a flight of steps at the end of the corridor’s run and took another right turn. Through an open door ahead of me I could see the vast expanse of the stable’s atrium, and the gears in my head immediately started turning.

Against every shred of survival instinct screaming at me to keep running, I slowed and waited for the behemoth to navigate its way up the stairwell. My heart was racing in anticipation. Surging adrenaline made my muscles quiver, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that I stood a very real chance of dying, I would’ve been exhilarated by the tension.

Once the thing had crammed its massive bulk through the narrow stairwell and rounded the corner, it turned to look at me and let loose a furious snarl. I shot a glance towards the atrium behind me and did some quick estimates, turning back just in time to see the creature lower its horned head and charge. Crunch time. I had a very narrow window for my plan to succeed. If I fucked this up, I was going to be one dead pony. I swallowed and took a deep breath as the monster barreled down on me..

Ten meters.

I turned to present my side to the creature, making sure to keep one eye on it the entire time.

Eight meters.

I crouched and made sure my hooves had traction on the smooth concrete.

Four meters.

I loosened up my wings in preparation for what was to come next.

Two meters.

When the thing had gotten close enough for me to smell its putrid stench, I used my fear-motivated reflexes to turn towards the atrium and start running. I could feel the creature behind me as I galloped towards the railing surrounding the atrium’s balcony, but he’d soon cease to be a problem. I jumped up onto the railing and used it to boost me higher up into the center of the atrium. Once in midair, I unfurled my wings and glided towards the opposite side.

I turned mid-flight and propelled myself backwards to ensure my plan had worked. Sure enough, the creature’s size and momentum left it no room to stop, and it crashed into the railing and kept right on going. I whooped and pumped my hoof in triumph as the horned monstrosity toppled off of the walkway and landed hard on the atrium’s floor. I drifted down to land on the walkway beneath me, propping my hooves up on the railing to peer down at the fallen creature.

“Ha!” I jeered, “Suck it, you musclebound freak! Maybe next time you’ll think twice about messing with somepony who can fly!”

I watched with twisted glee as the thing pushed itself back up to a standing position. It took a moment to look around and focus its beady little eyes on me, and it stalked wordlessly in my direction. I resisted the temptation to goad the beast further by turning and waving my flank around like a cheeky little foal. Dumb thing. By the time it found a staircase to get back up to my level, I’d be long gone.

Four beefy digits slapped down on the metal floor beneath me, causing me to jump back in shock. It was below me! 

The whole structure lurched beneath me, and I spread my hooves wide to maintain my balance. Metal groaned and shrieked as it was pushed to the breaking point, and I yelled in surprise as the rusted steel platform dropped away beneath me. The walkway went crashing down to the floor, and I went right down with it. The structure listed severely, tipping me over the railing and dumping me out onto the atrium floor, where I rolled to a stop with a pained groan.

I had to get up. I had to get to my hooves and start running before this thing caught me. If that thing could pull down an entire walkway, it would rip me right in two if I gave it the chance.

“Laugh at me…” the creature growled in a hoarse rasp, and a shock went up my spine when I felt those meaty digits wrap themselves around my midsection. “I wrath at you.”

No, no, no!

I squirmed and flailed as I was hefted effortlessly into the air. Up, up I rose until I was held high above the creature’s horned head. I thrashed my legs even harder when I drew up next to those gleaming white bits of bone, terrified of being skewered upon them. To my surprise, the thing lifted me back even further, high and behind its shoulder. Panic traded places with confusion a few times as the creature shifted its stance, putting one hooved leg behind it and taking a large step forward. What was happening became clear as crystal when I felt the familiar force of sudden, rapid acceleration on my body.

The thing had wound up, stepped into his throw and promptly released me. My stomach shot up into my throat as I flew clear of his grasp and straight towards the nearest wall. I screamed in both fear and surprise as I streaked through the air across the atrium at a blistering speed, completely unable to control myself. At an absolute loss for how to dampen my impact, I did the only thing I could possibly think of to protect myself. I curled tightly into a ball.

When I finally made impact, I didn’t stop dead as I expected to. The sound of shattering glass assaulted my ears, and I felt several shards cut into me as I crashed through a window. I kept right on going into the room beyond the broken portal, tumbling onto the floor amid the cascade of little glass razors raining down around me. I groaned as the last of the shards tinkled down and fell silent, pulling my hooves in towards myself protectively in an attempt to comfort my wounded body.

I could feel blood trickling from multiple cuts on my flanks and legs, and the steady burning of a scrape where I’d landed and slid across the concrete floor. I couldn’t gauge how bad the wounds were through the aches of my previous injuries, but they hurt. Badly. I wanted nothing more than to lay there until the pain went away, but a noise from beyond the broken window gave me all the motivation I needed.

The creature was coming. It wasn’t done with me yet.

I got my hooves under me and pushed, the combination of adrenaline and pain causing them to tremor and wobble. A quick glance over my shoulder showed me the massive outline of the thing stooping down, attempting to squeeze its massive bulk through the windowframe. Impending death gave me a sudden burst of energy, and I managed to pick myself up from the floor with all due haste. 

My head snapped from wall to wall in my attempt to locate an alternate exit that would get me away from that murder machine. Judging from the décor, he’d thrown me into some sort of supply room. Rows of storage lockers lined the walls, as well as stacks of old desks and chairs with wood surfaces claimed by rot from the stable’s moist air. By the time my eyes snapped back to the window, the thing had realized it wasn’t going to fit through the small hole, and had begun to pry on the frame. Metal groaned and slowly began to buckle, and my heart began to beat faster when I saw the gap in the wall slowly growing wider.

Door! Now!

My hooves pitter-pattered in a rapid staccato as I darted in every which way to locate a door. My heart sank when I spotted it at last—buckled in by an unknown force. Most likely by my pursuer in a past fit of rage. Tendrils of cold dread snaked their way up my legs and to my very core, plunging my whole body into a phantom chill. I was cornered. Trapped like a rat. The only way in or out of this room was through that window, which was currently stuffed to the brim with rippling muscle.

I threw back my head and growled in frustration. “Fuck! There has to be some other way out of this stars-forsaken room!”

I searched high and low, scanning the ceiling and the floor for some way, any way out of the room. No matter how hard I looked, there were only four walls, a window and a single door. The broken window and inoperable door were the only apparent ways in or out of the room. Was this really how I was going to die? Helpless, with no means of escape? There had to be an archway or something! A way into an adjacent room with a functioning door! A way...

Wait. That was it. The air ducts!

I was a pretty thin pony. If I could find a grate, I could try to contort my way through the ductwork and into an adjoining room. It was my only shot, my last hope to escape from this thing unscathed. I did a quick trot around the room in the search for a ventilation grate, glancing over my shoulder frequently to check the creature’s progress on the window. It appeared to be satisfied with the gap by this point, and had taken to trying to squeeze into the room again. No time!

“Aha!” I exclaimed upon spotting the familiar shape of a grate, barely obscured by a pile of old school desks. I bolted over to it immediately, sliding to a stop in a low crouch beside the wall. I reached a hoof towards the grate to tug it free before spotting something that made my heart soar. “Yes! Finally, something is going right for me!”

I hadn’t been the only pony with the idea to escape using the ductwork. Strangely enough, the grate had already been pulled off and thrown aside long ago. Given that time was not on my side, these circumstances could not have possibly been better for me. I squashed down flat on my belly and scooched up to the vent, carefully maneuvering my helmeted head into the cramped air duct. The smell of rusted steel was overpowering in such a small space. A wave of nausea hit me as I tried to jam myself into the confined passage, but I took a deep breath and swallowed before attempting to squish my shoulders in after my head.

It was going as well as I could have hoped until I had my shoulders completely within the duct. Once I’d managed to claw my way a little further ahead, my exposed muzzle bumped up against something that rattled oddly. I stifled a panicked yelp when I focused and identified what I’d bumped into. Apparently, I’d just found the pony who’d had the bright idea to squeeze through the air duct before me. The skeletal remains of an earth pony in stable barding were blocking any forward progress. Whoever it had been had met an untimely demise after coming into contact with a fan. I could see where the warped blade had sliced into the stable pony’s neck, and the cracked vertebrae made it obvious as to what had happened.

“Oh, come on!” I groaned pitifully. “Will somepony please give me a break?”

I thought about pushing the skeleton aside and continuing on, until I felt my battle saddle catch on the rim of the duct opening. Panic immediately overcame me, and I started thrashing and scraping at the smooth metal beneath my hooves to try and push myself out. I was stuck! I was stuck! I lifted both hindlegs and placed them up against the wall to give me leverage, and pushed with all my might to try and break myself free. A loud squeal and a tug on my head told me that my helmet had gotten caught on the duct. Twisting my head so that my left cheek was pressed flat to the metal surface, all resistance vanished and I shot out of the duct like a greased pig.

The room blurred as I flew back and tumbled end over end across the floor. I didn’t make it very far, and came to an abrupt halt when I collided with the stack of desks that had blocked the air duct from view. I groaned and flopped my head back against the pile of desks, each one of my wounds screaming in protest at the constant agitation. A loud growl from the creature encouraged me to open my eyes, and at that moment I finally spotted my salvation. Just above me, flush with the ceiling and incredibly difficult to spot in the low light was a large hatch. Painted in faded white letters upon the hatch were words that made my hopes skyrocket.


Maintenance Access
(Authorized Stable Technicians Only)


That was my ticket out of here!

I leaped and flapped simultaneously, boosting myself up through the air to snag the hatch’s handle. I put all my weight on the sealed access panel, but it refused to budge. I could feel sweat starting to trickle down my neck and back, and I chanced a look over towards the window. The creature had now managed to get its entire midsection into the room, and was now maneuvering its legs in after it. If I didn’t get this hatch open in the next few seconds, I was one dead pony.

“Come on, you bitch,” I growled, wrapping both forehooves around the handle and inverting myself to use the ceiling as a brace. Using my hindlegs to increase my leverage, I pulled on the handle with every last bit of strength I had. The muscles in all four of my legs burned with the strain, and I could hear my joints popping and cracking even over the creature’s ruckus. The hatch began to groan with my persistent tugging, and with a sudden jerk that threw me back to the floor, the heavy metal hatch flew open.

“If you wanna leave here alive,” the creature rumbled in its gravelly rasp, “You need the will to survive!”

I whipped my head around to fixate on the beast, and saw it rising up to stand tall just in front of the window. It was in the room with me. There was a moment of deathly calm while we traded glances. Naturally, hell broke loose immediately afterward.

The thing lowered its horned head and charged, kicking my flank into gear on pure reflex. While the creature barreled down on me, I launched myself towards the hatch, making sure to pull my wings in just as my hooves passed through the opening. There was a sudden tumultuous uproar from beneath me, drawing my gaze downward for a brief moment. I pulled my legs up into the access shaft just in time to see the pile of desks explode outward and scatter in multiple directions. A dark blur charged past a split second later, passing through the spot where my hindquarters had been dangling not a moment before.

With all due haste, I set to the task of making my escape. The maintenance accessway was a great deal more accommodating than the air vent had been. It was with no small amount of relief that I noted the crawlspace was big enough to easily fit me and my battle saddle. Not keen on being ripped back out of the passage by the creature, I clambered my way up over the lip of the vertical shaft and into the horizontal run. Beneath me, the concrete tunnel tremored as the thing attempted to get at me from beneath. Thank the stars it wasn’t just hanging sheet metal ductwork.

I didn’t have a whole lot of choice moving forward. There were no branching paths, so I was forced to continue crawling in a straight line. From what I could tell, the accessway was meant to give maintenance ponies an easier time getting to some of the stable’s hard-to-reach vital systems. Electrical conduits and water mains occupied the same space I did, with junction boxes and shutoff valves popping up every so often as I slid and scraped along.

Navigating was difficult with no way to determine my position inside the stable. Even my recovered helmet’s mapping systems were puzzled by my location. I continued to crawl along the maintenance tunnels, using my best judgment whenever I was faced with a choice of direction. I paused briefly at a three-way intersection to think about my next move. A great deal of power conduits were routing through to the crawlspace directly to my right. That much power could only mean two things—either I’d found some sort of electrical junction, or I’d stumbled across a portion of the stable with immense power demands. A control room of sorts, perhaps? 

Either way, it seemed like a safe bet to head in that direction, so I set to crawling.

I reached the crawlspace’s terminus some twenty meters on. Much like the point I’d entered from, the tunnel took a sharp ninety-degree turn straight down. At the bottom of the drop was another hatch, and I carefully lowered myself down onto it. I held onto a rung built into the access tunnel and placed one hoof down on the hatch, testing my weight against it. The hatch didn’t budge, so I pressed down a little harder with no results. Remembering how badly the last hatch had been stuck, I let go of my hoofhold and stomped down with all four hooves.

“Huh,” I remarked when the hatch refused to budge. “Can’t really say I’m surp—whoa!”

I flailed my legs like a lunatic when the hatch dropped out from beneath my hooves and I plunged downward. The drop was short but the landing was rough, and I exhaled with a grunt when I smacked down onto the hard concrete floor below. It took about half a second before I realized I wasn’t alone. Of course, the shouting and the sound of magical energy weapons priming was something of a dead giveaway.

“Stars alive, that thing is in the ceiling?!” One voice called out. A mare. “I’ve got you covered, LT!”

“Hold fire, that’s a pony!” Said another, also female. This voice was higher-pitched than the last, and… I recognized it. I knew that mare!

“...Fluff?” I called out tentatively.

The mare’s answer wasn’t quite what I was hoping for. All the breath left my lungs when an immense weight landed on me. A burly hoof found its way to the side of my head and slammed it roughly to the floor, pinning me where I’d fallen. If that hadn’t been enough to discourage me, the multifaceted gem tip of a Sunburst rifle being thrust into my face sure was. Well, I’d apparently found the Enclave team that had wandered into the stable. Coupled with their reaction to my presence, I had a pretty good guess now of why they were in the stable.

“Aw, come on Fluff—”

“That’s Lieutenant Marshmallow Sundae to you!” the mare interrupted. “What did you do with the Captain? Why are you wearing her helmet? More importantly, is that thing still out there?”

“C’mon Marshmallow, is this any way to greet an old wingpony?” I grunted, as the mare was considerably heavy. I shifted uncomfortably as her forelegs dug into my back. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“Don’t listen to him, LT,” the other mare cautioned, nickering distrustfully. “He’s just gonna try to talk you into letting him go.”

“Not now, Brightlance,” Marshmallow muttered to her wingmare. “Why’d you do it, Cap? Why’d you purge those maneframes? What could you have possibly stood to gain from that?”

“I didn’t do anything!” I yelled, feeling my temper begin to rise. “You have to believe me, Marshmallow! I’m innocent!”

“Innocent ponies don’t run!” Marshmallow bellowed into my ear. “I thought I knew you, Cap. I guess I was wrong.”

“I took the bullet, okay!?” I blurted, coming clean in the hope that it would get me out of this pickle. “My dad was the true culprit, but I took the fall for him. I just… Marshmallow, if you knew what my father meant to my mother and sister, you’d understand. It’s not that I wanted to see him rot in jail, but I didn’t do it for him. I did it for them. I wouldn’t lie to you, Marshmallow. You know that.”

There was a moment of tense, uncomfortable silence between us, which was broken when the weight immediately left my back. Before I could stand, strong hooves snatched me up and clutched me tightly to their owner in a death grip. All the air left my lungs in a massive wheeze, and I could hear the vertebrae in my spine cracking and popping as Marshmallow bear hugged me.

“Fluff—Marshmallow—I can’t breathe!” I gasped, and the mare dropped me back to the floor. “Stars alive, I forgot how strong you were.”

Now that my face wasn’t pressed to the floor, I could actually get a good view of the room I’d fallen into. A large glass half-dome on one wall made it clear that I’d managed to find my way into the Overmare’s office. The center of the room was taken up by a large circular desk, and a terminal was situated directly behind it, flush with the wall. Near the exit was a little waiting area with some plush chairs and a small table littered with moldy old magazines.

“You’re letting him go?” Brightlance said in utter astonishment. “B-But Lieutenant, you can’t take his word at face value. He’s a traitor to the Enclave! He destroyed classified data and then fled pursuit!”

“Allegedly. Believe me, I know Mach,” Marshmallow said, clapping me heartily on the back with one of her brass-hooved forelegs. “I’ve flown with him long enough to learn that he’s a terrible liar. He’s telling the truth, Brightlance.”

“Thanks, Fluff,” I said as I pushed myself up to a sitting position. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Cap, I thought I told you to quit calling me Fluff,” the mare growled, and I felt myself grinning when I saw her chubby cheeks puff up in anger. Her white coat made them look an awful lot like her namesake.

“I’ll quit calling you Fluff when you stop calling me Cap,” I shot back. “I haven’t been a captain for over a year now. We’re of equal rank, so stop treating me like your superior.”

“Rank is irrelevant now! You gave up your authority when you left,” Brightlance sneered, and I turned to warily regard the armored pony. I couldn’t make out much but the pale yellow muzzle poking out from beneath her helmet, but her body language—wings flared, aggressive stance—told me that she didn’t approve of Marshmallow’s decision. “I’m not obligated to follow any orders you give. If it was up to me, I’d—”

“But it’s not up to you,” I interrupted. “That’s up to your commanding officer. Isn’t it, Fluff?”

Brightlance opened her mouth to retort, but Marshmallow cut her off. “Brightlance, just leave it,” Marshmallow said. “I’m not running this operation, Mach. We were separated from our CO earlier when we were attacked by that… thing.”

“Yeah, I hear you. It came after me, too,” I said. “Bastard chased me across damn near half the stable, and I only just managed to escape from it. That’s how I wound up in that maintenance access shaft up there. Do either of you have any idea what it is? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“We think it’s a minotaur,” Marshmallow said as she sat across from me. The chubby mare reached up a hoof to scratch at her protruding musclegut, drawing my attention straight to a bulging pouch on her uniform. My stomach growled hungrily in response. “We did a little poking around in the Overmare’s desk earlier, found some paperwork outlining the stable’s experiment.”

“Fluff, do you… do you still carry around extra ration bars?” I asked, eyeing the mare’s chubby-yet-muscular physique and brimming with hope. Marshmallow always used to carry extra rations around to help her bulk up. My growling stomach was hoping she hadn’t kicked the habit yet. “I haven’t had anything to eat in two days. Help a pony out?”

A look of shock passed over Marshmallow’s face, and a hoof shot up protectively to her pocket. “C’mon Cap, you know I need the protein. I’m bulking! I can’t share my stash with you! Stars know it took forever to get my hooves on this many...”

“Please?” I pleaded, flopping onto the floor and looking up at Marshmallow with the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could muster. “Please, Fluff? I’m running on empty and I could really use a bite to keep my strength up.”

“Fine!” Marshmallow squeaked, her voice cracking humorously in frustration. “You can take one—one—on the condition that you tell us how you found the Captain’s helmet. Okay?”

I greedily snatched up the compressed nutrient bar that Marshmallow tossed over to me. Tearing off the wrapper with my teeth, I tucked into it without further delay. I’d made it about two bites in before I noticed Marshmallow’s pouty glare, her dark blue eyes glaring murderous daggers at me. Oh, right.

“I found it in a hallway,” I mumbled, spraying crumbs all over the place. “Right by a big puddle of blood.” The two mares exchanged glances and nickered uneasily. “But no body! No body!” I said hurriedly, dropping the last bite of ration to the floor in my haste. “I saw signs of a struggle down there. Score marks on the walls and floor, blood trails... it’s entirely possible your captain is still alive. I didn’t have much time to investigate before that thing found me. You said it was a minotaur?”

“The documentation states that the purpose of the minotaur was to work as a life coach and fitness instructor,” Brightlance rattled off, drawing the gaze of both myself and Marshmallow. “He was hired by Stable-Tec for the purposes of their assigned experiment. It would seem that the goals of this stable were to see if peak physical fitness and the successful pursuit of one’s personal goals for each and every pony would circumvent the chain of events that brought about the Great War.”

“Nerrrd,” Marshmallow whispered to me, barely stifling a snicker. Her chortling caused me to snort and we both had to stifle bouts of laughter, earning us a death glare from Brightlance.

“How’d you two wind up separated from your CO?” I asked, looking from one mare to the other. “With an enemy that dangerous, isn’t it best to stick together?”

“You’ve no doubt guessed that the reason we’re here is to track you down,” Brightlance said, turning her hate-filled gaze toward me. “We didn’t expect to make it to the stable before you, and we were searching for you when we were beset upon by that stars-forsaken monster.”

“We’d made it down to the reactor level when it found us,” Marshmallow continued before I could question what Brightlance had said, picking up for her wingmare. “It’s venting radiation and that entire level will kill a pony in a few minutes. Brightlance reckons that’s why the damn thing is still alive. She thinks it’s been ghoulified by the radiation.”

“So it snuck up on you and you split?”

“Not by choice,” Marshmallow growled, stomping a hoof furiously. “Cap wouldn’t let me at the damn thing. She ordered a retreat and told us to fall back to the Overmare’s office. This was the regroup point, but she hasn’t made it back yet.” Marshmallow sat so she could pound one hoof into the other, her brass hooves clinking as they made impact. “If she would’ve just let me at him, I would’ve destroyed him!”

“Fluff…” I sighed, already well aware of where she was going with this.

“I’d have used a Diamond Cutter and made that side of beef minced meat! Oh yeah!” the mare shouted, jumping to her hooves and hopping up and down like an excited filly.

“Fluff…” I tried again, to no avail.

“He wouldn't have lasted a minute in the squared circle!"

“Marshmallow!” Brightlance and I shouted at the same time. I traded an awkward glance with the mare and we immediately averted gazes, embarrassed to be on the same page with each other.

“Marshmallow, we’re not in the sparring room at base,” I chided the bellicose mare. “Just because you’ve been able to send any pegasus dumb enough to fight you tumbling to the mat doesn’t mean you can do the same to that thing. Have you seen how big it is? It threw me right through a window! That thing would tear you in half like a Thunderhead operations manual!”

“Mach, I could throw you through a window,” Marshmallow said, puffing out one cheek in a grumpy pout. “You barely weigh anything.”

“Regardless, it’s a stupid idea to take that thing head on,” I said. “I think we should try and find your captain and get the hell out of this place before that thing tracks us down. Do you two have any idea where we should start look…” I trailed off when I heard the screech of rusted steel scraping against itself. Both mares tensed and I saw their eyes focus on a point somewhere behind me. Heart pounding, I turned around just in time to see the automatic door forced up into the recess in the ceiling.

Behind the door was a pony, who immediately leaned against the doorframe for support.

“Captain Aeolus!” The mares shouted in complete bewilderment. I tried to make myself as thin as possible as the two rushed past me to get to their commanding officer’s side, and I slowly turned to watch as they checked to make sure she was all right.

“Captain, are you all right?” Brightlance asked as Marshmallow maneuvered herself so that she was supporting the mare. “Where’s Sky Strider? We thought he went with you when we split up.”

“Dead,” Aeolus snapped, hobbling along with Marshmallow towards one of the nearby chairs. She seemed to be taking weight off of her right hindleg in particular. “There was a collapse in one of the corridors. That damn thing brought the whole ceiling down on us, and Sky Strider was right under the rubble when it fell. Fell back as fast as I could, but it got ahold of me. Smashed my head up against a wall and threw me, lost my damn helmet and gored my leg on some rebar. I had to hide a few times when it caught up with me, but I managed to sneak my way up here after it just… took off.” Aeolus sighed as she sank down into the moldy old chair. “Seemed like it had somewhere to be in a hurry, so I took full advantage of it.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, making my presence known.

Aeolus’s head snapped over to me and she hopped out of her chair, only to immediately lose her balance. Her long orange mane swayed without her helmet to contain it, and Marshmallow caught the mare to steady her before she fell. Marshmallow appeared to be gently restraining her commanding officer, but could not or would not exert the necessary force to sit her back down.

“Well, if it isn’t the treacherous rat,” Aeolus growled. “I see you’ve availed yourself of my helmet. Does anypony want to tell me why this criminal isn’t restrained? Secure the target and prepare for exfiltration immediately. I want this traitor tied up like a stars-damned pig, is that clear?” Neither Marshmallow nor Brightlance—to my immense surprise—moved to capture me. Aeolus distanced herself from Marshmallow and looked at both of her wingponies with disgust. “What is wrong with you two? I gave you an order! Am I going to have to do this myself?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, you are wounded,” Brightlance said carefully. “and if you will recall, he is not the target. Our mission was to recover the stolen prototype. As much as it pains me to say it, we could really use his help to make sure we all come out of this alive. You’ve seen how dangerous that thing is, Captain.”

“I will not accept help from somepony who turned their back on the Enclave!”

I was across the room in two short strides, and Marshmallow swooped in to stand between Aeolus and I, keeping us at a distance with her powerful forelegs.

“I never turned my back on the Enclave!” I screamed, trying my best to lean around Marshmallow. “You think I want to live my life down here with these wastelanders? None of them trust me because of where I come from, and some outright hate me! I miss my family, I miss my warm bed, I miss my three square meals a day, and I’ve been injured more times in the past few days than I have in my entire military career! How stupid can you be to think I wanted this?”

“You came down here of your own free will, didn’t you?” Aeolus sneered from the other side of Marshmallow. “You could’ve surrendered to the authorities, but you chose to flee. You brought this upon yourself.”

I bit my tongue. She was right. There was nopony but myself to blame for my problems. As much as I wanted to stand here and trade banter though, there was still a very dangerous and deadly creature roaming about the stable.

“Look, we don’t have time to argue,” I said, pressing my hoof up to my forehead and massaging gently. “Our number one priority should be getting the hell out of this place before we all wind up dead.” I backed away from Marshmallow so I could see her properly and make addressing her less awkward. “Fluff, do you think you could carry her out of here? Brightlance and I will give you two cover while we make our way to the stable entrance.”

“Excuse me?” Aeolus hissed, throwing up a leg to keep Marshmallow at a distance. “What the hell do you think you’re doing giving my troopers orders? You should consider yourself lucky I haven’t shot you on the spot and taken that weapon from your lifeless corpse.”

“I think I’m making sure we all get out of here alive,” I said calmly. “You’re clearly not fit to lead your squad out of here, given that you’ve already lost a pony. You deliberately weakened your forces by ordering your troops to split in the face of a greater threat, and you’re still trying to call the shots with a debilitating injury. If you want to live to see your family again, I’m your best shot.”

“You betrayed your fellow ponies and you have the nerve to tell me I’m not fit to lead?”

“What I did doesn’t matter!” I shouted, pushing past Marshmallow so that I was standing directly in front of Aeolus. “Contrary to what you may think, I actually care about my fellow pegasi! I didn’t do what I did because of the wastelanders. Sure it helped my decision, but in the end I did what I did because I care about my family more than anything else in the world. The only other things I value as importantly as my family are my friends and my wingponies, in that order.” I gestured to the two mares behind me. “I’ve never lost a pony under my command, and I damn sure won’t let today be the day that changes. Can you make that same boast ?”

“You son of a bitch!” Aeolus screamed as she launched herself towards me, her purple eyes burning with red hot fury. “I don’t care if they want you alive! I’ll crack your damn head open like a nut and take the stupid gun from your body!”

I put up my hooves to protect myself, but Aeolus was aided greatly by her power armor. The enraged mare bowled me over and stood over me, swinging her forehoof down at my head with the intent of making good on her threat. I thanked the stars that I was the one wearing her helmet when my head snapped back and slammed against the hard concrete beneath me. Aeolus was able to get off two or three good hits before I could retaliate.

Before she could rip the helmet off and beat me to death, I kicked out with my hindleg. I made sure to aim for Aeolus’s bloody leg, and even though she had armor to protect it, the sudden jarring caused her to cry out in pain and topple over.

“You bastard,” Aeolus hissed as I scooted away. “If it weren’t for this leg you’d be dead right now.”

“Don’t push my buttons and I won’t push yours,” I said. “All I want to do is make sure we all get out of this place alive. That includes you, even though I can’t stand your guts.”

“I can already tell this is gonna be a project,” Marshmallow sighed as Aeolus and I glared at each other, chests heaving. “It’s going to be like babysitting a pair of rowdy foals on a long trip.” I felt a gentle pat on my shoulder as I stood and turned to face the mare. “You all right, Cap? You’re breathing pretty heavy.”

“That’s… not me,” I said uneasily, and I saw ears twitching all over the room. 

I could hear it now—a heavy, ragged breathing too deep in register to have come from any of us. I spun in a circle, looking all over the room and even up into the access shaft to locate the origin of the noise. The only occupants of the room were us, and so I at last turned my panicked gaze towards the open door. A huge shadowy form hunched over within the corridor caused my breath to catch in my chest. 

It had found us.

“Get the door!” I screamed, and charged toward the open door just as the minotaur did the same. I reached the door first and jumped up to seize the manual override handle. Even with all of my weight on it, the door slowly scraped its way down towards the recess in the floor. I started to panic until I felt a sturdy pair of hooves close around my waist, and the door slammed shut with the aid of Marshmallow’s strength. “Nice save, Marsh—”

My world lurched and I went sailing backwards when the heavy stable door crumpled in front of me. Marshmallow and I were thrown back away from the door, and I rolled to my hooves as fast as I could manage. A glance at the door showed that it had ballooned outward from the impact, and a pair of razor-sharp horns had come straight through the steel following the minotaur’s enraged charge.

“Everypony sound off!” I called as I helped Marshmallow back to her hooves. I received a chorus of affirmatives—Aeolus included—and so turned my thoughts towards our escape. “All right everypony, we don’t have much time. That thing isn’t going to just walk away, so we need to find another way out of this room ASAP.”

“What about that access shaft you fell down through?” Marshmallow asked, gesturing up at the open hatch in the ceiling. “We could go back the way you came.”

“That’d take too long,” I said, glancing over at the large glass dome overlooking the atrium. “There. Find a way to smash that window out. It’s big enough to easily fit a pony through, and we’ll have a straight shot back to the stable entrance once we’re in the atrium.”

“Yes sir,” Marshmallow said with a determined grimace, and I glanced over at Aeolus while she and Brightlance busied themselves with the task.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed that thing didn’t gore you,” Aeolus snapped as I walked over to her.

“Look, Aeolus—”

“Captain Aeolus,” the mare interjected.

“—Captain Aeolus,” I amended with a roll of my eyes, “I don’t have a problem with you. Marshmallow is an old friend of mine, and I want to see her get out of here alive just as much as you. I’m not out to make enemies, I just want to avoid any more unnecessary deaths.” The sound of shattering glass from behind me caused me to cringe, and I looked over my shoulder to see Marshmallow standing by a broken atrium window. She touched a forehoof to her head in salute, and I grinned at her before turning back to Aeolus. “I’m not asking you to be my friend, I just want you to cooperate with me until we get out of this place, okay?” I held out my hoof for a shake.

“Get that thing away from me,” Aeolus snarled, batting my hoof aside. “I’ll play ball until we’re out of here, but you’re not leaving my sight with that weapon in your possession. Do we have an understanding?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Good. Now help me over to that window before I change my mind,” Aeolus grumbled.

I was about to throw Aeolus’s foreleg over my neck when I heard a deafening crash. I whirled around to face the door, turning just in time to see the heavy steel shutter torn free of its enclosure. The door toppled over as easily as if it were made of aluminum, skidding a short distance before coming to rest. We were out of time.

“Marshmallow, get over here and help Aeolus!” I yelled, giving the mare a gentle nudge toward the window. “I’ll buy you some time!”

“What are you gonna do, Cap?” Marshmallow asked as she galloped over and got her neck beneath her commanding officer. 

“This gun was designed to punch through alicorn shields. It shouldn’t have a problem piercing the skull of a damn minotaur,” I growled, taking aim and grasping my bit firmly with my teeth. 

I backed towards the window, keeping the crosshair on my helmet’s visor centered on the doorway. The minotaur had to stoop to make it through into the Overmare’s office, and I waited until he’d stood up to his full height before making my move. Sliding my crosshair up to rest on the creature’s disfigured face, I clenched my jaw to depress the trigger. Instead of the satisfying kick of recoil and a dead target, I achieved far less desirable results. 

All I got out of the coilgun was a crackle and a loud pop, and I jumped when I saw a microspark cell ricochet off of the wall to my right. A quick glance to my side revealed that the coilgun had ejected its power source through some means, either by design flaw or intention. Either way, it left me and Aeolus’s squad vulnerable. I rattled off a string of curses as I continued backing towards the window, not at all willing to take my eye off of the bloodthirsty minotaur.

“Everypony’s clear, Cap!” Marshmallow shouted from behind me. “Let’s go!”

I spun around to face the window, hearing the minotaur snarl in outrage and charge toward my vulnerable backside. The familiar tingle of coursing adrenaline washed over me like a tidal wave, and I lowered my head and galloped towards the hollow window frame as fast as my legs could carry me. I could hear thunderous steps drawing closer as I neared my salvation, pounding in rhythm with my heart. Once I was close enough to the window I leaped, throwing my forehooves straight out and passing clear through the frame with centimeters to spare on either side. I felt a disturbance of air by my tail as the minotaur tried and failed to grab it. I found myself thanking my lucky stars that I preferred to keep it cut short.

Once I had ample room I unfurled my wings, gliding gently down to the floor of the atrium to land by the mares. The group had already started making their way to the corridor that led to the stable entrance, leaving me to catch up to them. I was just trotting up to Brightlance when a sound from back up towards the Overmare’s office gave me pause.

I looked up at the window after encouraging the mares to continue, only to see something that would’ve made my coat turn pink if hair could blanch. The wall around the window shuddered in time with the sound of a heavy impact. Subsequent impacts caused cracks to spider through the concrete surface of the wall, and I didn’t intend on staying around to watch what would happen. I bolted after the mares, stopping only to reach up and tug the door down behind me. I was banking on the door holding the minotaur back long enough to give us time to escape.

“Double time it!” I called to the mares, giving chase once I’d sealed the door. “That thing is coming through the wall!”

Sure enough, I heard the sound of heavy chunks of concrete crashing down to the floor like meteors on the moon’s surface. A much heavier thud heralded the escape of the minotaur, and it wasn’t long before it started trying to bash the sealed door down.

“What does it take to kill that thing?” Aeolus yelled as we rounded a corner and the familiar sound of a door tearing free met our ears. 

“More than we’ve got,” I said. “Just keep moving before it catches up. I really don’t want to find out what it feels like to be torn in half.”

“C’mon Captain,” Marshmallow piped up, “Just let me—”

“No, Marshmallow!” we all said at once.

If I hadn’t been terrified for my life, I probably would have laughed. There was something humorous about Marshmallow’s insatiable lust for fighting. The thought of her taking on a creature three times her size and exponentially stronger with a smile on her face was admirable.

We rounded another corner and there it was in plain sight. The stable entrance. I chanced a look over my shoulder and felt my blood run cold. The minotaur had caught up to us. It was a straight shot to the stable door, and there were no offshoots we could use to lose it. If we didn’t make it out of the stable before it closed the distance, we’d all be dead.

“Run!” I bellowed. Marshmallow took a second to toss Aeolus up onto her back and we all broke out into full gallop. “Don’t stop and don’t look back, no matter what!” I shouted as we ran for our lives. “If anypony falls, call out so the rest of us can cover you while you get back to  your hooves! This is it, everypony! One last sprint and we’re safe!”

The sound of bare and armored hooves hitting concrete echoed all around us as we made our break for freedom. Everypony’s breathing was ragged, and I could tell that this whole ordeal had taken its toll on us. I tried to keep my focus entirely on reaching the exit and not the sound of the charging behemoth gaining from behind. Aeolus bounced up and down on Marshmallow’s back, keeping herself steady with a hoof wrapped gently around the burly mare’s neck. Ahead and to my right Brightlance kept pace with the group, leaving me in the most vulnerable position. Directly behind everypony.

The spirits must have been looking after us that day, because before I knew it we were passing through the stable’s antechamber. My heart flooded with sudden exhilaration and hope as we ran through the open stable door and into the entrance cavern. While the mares kept running, I bolted over to the control panel and threw the lever back to its original position. My heart hammered in my chest as the door slowly rolled shut. I kept my eyes locked on the charging minotaur, but backed away as it drew closer and closer. Just when it looked like the door wouldn’t close in time, it sealed with a deafening screech, locking the minotaur within the stable for what I hoped was forever.

I let out a pent-up breath and felt a surge of euphoria hit me when I realized my life was no longer in danger. “Woo!” I shouted, trotting over to the mares with an ear-to-ear grin on my face. “Damn, I almost thought we’d had it in there!”

“You and me both, Cap. Stars alive,” Marshmallow sighed as she lowered Aeolus back to her hooves. “I’ll be glad to leave this place behind forever. No more ground ops for me, no sir. I think I’d rather park my flank at base and get my kicks in the sparring room. Still… would’ve loved to have the chance to cut loose on that thing.”

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” I said to Marshmallow, extending my hoof out to bump hers. “It’s been a fun little reunion, but I’m stuck down here for the rest of my life. Take care of yourself, Fluff. Okay? Tell my family I love them.”

“Will do, Cap,” Marshmallow said with a smile. “Good luck with everything. I hope you find purpose down here, whatever it may be.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Well, I’ve got intel to deliver to a person I hate, so I’d better get it done sooner rather than later.”

“Hold it,” Aeolus said from behind me, and I turned to see the mare pointing both of her Sunburst rifles squarely at me. “We had a deal. Give me that gun and I won’t turn you into a smoldering pile of ash.”

“You’re really going to argue with me over this thing when I helped save your life?” I snorted, incredulous. “You’re aware that it’s not even working, right? It’s useless. Garbage. I’ll take it off the Enclave’s hooves and we’ll call it square.”

“Whether or not you helped my squad and I out of that hellhole, we made a deal,” Aeolus said evenly. She wasn’t angry, merely stating fact. “Our mission was to recover the prototype and I am not returning empty-hooved. I won’t give up now. Not after we found you. Not after we got so close.”

“All right, fine,” I relented. “But if you’re going to take the damn gun, you may as well take your stupid helmet back too.”

I reached up to slide the helmet free of my head, grasping it carefully in my right hoof. I hesitated a moment, and then I threw the helmet straight at Aeolus. The mare was caught off guard by the sudden action, and threw up her hooves on pure reflex to catch the object thrown at her. With her occupied by the helmet, I turned tail and fled toward the cave mouth, throwing myself off of the cliff just as a hailstorm of orange energy beams streaked after me. I wasn’t worried about pursuit. Aeolus’s injuries would slow her down, and she wouldn’t want to venture any closer to the surface than was necessary.

Continuing my dive downward, I leveled out when I reached an altitude I was certain would deter Aeolus’s pursuit. Now all I had to do was remember the way back to the junction where Gawd had set up shop.

...Which way had that been, again?


*                *             	*


“Okay, I fulfilled my end of the deal, now give me my damn ScoutBuck back,” I snapped, slamming both forehooves down on Gawd’s desk.

“You’ll get yer little toy when I get my info,” Gawd said, reclining slightly and tenting her claws atop her desk. “You were gone a good long while. Have some trouble in there?”

“Yes, I fucking had trouble!” I shouted. “You know what I found in there? A minotaur! A ghoul minotaur that wanted to rip my spine out! Oh and wait, that’s not the best part. Get this—an Enclave recovery team here to hunt me down for this stupid fucking gun! I was too damn busy trying not to get killed to scout the place out, so here’s what I know: The reactor is kaput and has leaked radiation all over the stable's lower levels, so nothing works anymore. Oh yeah, and there’s… y’know… the minotaur. That’s something you might want to think about.”

“Shit,” Gawd sighed. “Well, that was a waste of time. I was hopin’ the place would be up an’ runnin’ so we could move outta here. At the very least, I was hopin’ there’d be some good shit t’ loot outta there. If there’s a minotaur in there though, that sounds like more trouble’n it’s worth. Here,” Gawd said, sliding my ScoutBuck across her desk towards me. “Gawd is always loyal t’ the contract. You’re free to go.”

“What, just like that?” I asked as I fastened the device to my ear.

“The terms and conditions of yer employment with me have been fulfilled. Yer off the chain.”

“Oh. Well, that’s… huh. I guess I’ll be going, then.” I started towards the door, but slowed to a stop when I realized that I had no idea where to go.

Even if it had been reluctantly, doing this job for that old griffon crone had given me purpose. Without a goal to work towards, I was back to being directionless again. I couldn’t go back to New Appleloosa, and I didn’t know of anywhere else to look for work either. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

“You look a li’l lost there, pal,” Gawd said, and I looked over at the griffoness as she made her way past her desk towards me. 

“I… I don’t know where to go,” I answered truthfully. "I came here looking for work, but I didn’t expect to run into griffons. I didn’t expect to be roped into a contract, either. I just… I feel like I have no direction anymore.”

“I could point ya towards a wealth of work if ya want,” Gawd said. “But I don’t know if ya wanna take advice from me. Y’know, bein’ a griffon and all…”

I gave the griffon a flat stare but didn't open my mouth. I'd learned my lesson. Speaking my mind was a bad idea here.

"I'd appreciate that."

“Head east,” Gawd said, pointing toward a wall of the train car. “All the way east, t’ the coast. A long time ago a friend of mine left fer a city out there lookin’ t’ make somethin’ of himself. Rumor had it that the place was total anarchy. A lawless pit ruled by slavers, raiders and merc bands. I hear he’s cleaned the place up a bit since then, but they still have a lotta problems out there, especially with local wildlife and raiders. My advice? Take up work with one of the local mercenary factions. You’ll never be without somethin’ t’ do.”

Already I could feel that familiar sensation of purpose welling up inside me. A chance to do some work bringing order to a chaotic mess of a city? Hell yes, I was up for that. All I needed was a name to coax the ScoutBuck into giving me a map marker. “Does this place have a name?”

“They call the place Sanctuary now. Or at least, that’s what they call the part of it that isn’t a complete shithole. You can’t miss the place, there’s a huge skyscraper right in the middle of the city.”

It wasn’t much, but after being forced into employment twice, I finally had a goal of my own. A purpose. Today marked the day that I truly began my life in the Wasteland.
> Chapter 8: Outlaw
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Chapter 8: Outlaw



For the fifth time in the past ten minutes or so, my eyes fluttered open and my head snapped up straight. Even the wind blowing through my mane and whistling in my ears couldn’t do much to keep me awake. The past few days’ events had taken a lot out of me, and the only sleep I’d managed to get lately was from unconsciousness. I was fairly certain that unconsciousness didn’t even count as sleep. Coupled with the little food I’d eaten since I’d fled the Enclave, it was leaving me feeling pretty drained.

I stifled a huge yawn and cast a drowsy glance down at the Wasteland beneath me. Night had fallen hours ago, but that sure wasn’t going to stop me from flying. Night ops were old hat for a recon trooper. This barely registered as an inconvenience. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dim moonlight making its way through the cloud cover. I could see just well enough to know that my nose was level with the horizon and not facing straight at the ground.

I could have toggled on the ScoutBuck’s night vision spell, but enhanced visibility wasn’t explicitly necessary for high-altitude flight. I wasn’t expecting to run into any physical hazards or hostile attacks as high up as I was. There was very little light to amplify, anyway. Nah, I’d make use of that in a situation where I really needed it. Like if somepony was trying to fill me full of holes.

In an effort to keep myself awake, I pushed my goggles up onto my forehead. The cold air rushing past my face caused me to squint and blink back tears as it robbed my eyes of moisture. I perked up a little, but it was still very much a losing battle. I was going to have to find someplace to put down for the night before I fell asleep on the wing. Flying all day and into the night had taken me well past the midway point towards my destination. I could afford to spend one night out in the Wasteland and continue on in the morning. Stars knew my sore wing would thank me.

Drawing my focus back to the ScoutBuck’s screen, I perused the map in search of a suitable place to take shelter. There were no locations in the immediate vicinity, but I was currently on approach to a small village nestled upon the outskirts of a larger town. That seemed to be my best bet, but at the rate I was flying it would still be another fifteen minutes at best before I made it as far as the perimeter.

My wings beat harder as I poured on a little extra speed. If I could shave a minute or two off of my travel time, so much the better. I easily could’ve kept going if I wasn’t so mentally exhausted. Long flights were nothing new to me, and I was quite accustomed to gliding for long periods of time to conserve energy. That said, my magically-heightened senses were picking up something I was not accustomed to dealing with. In fact, I avoided it at every turn when possible.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I growled angrily. “I’m almost there, for Cygnus’ sake!

I felt it long before I flew into it. It started as an uncomfortable crawling beneath my skin, and progressed to a feeling not unlike static buildup on my coat. My throat dampened with every inhalation as the air grew thick with moisture. I was even able to taste the barest hint of sweet, refreshing water on my tongue. Rain. I was flying headfirst into a storm, and a big one at that.

It wasn’t much longer before I hit the turbulent weather. A sudden updraft caught my wings, causing them to billow out and yank me upwards a few meters. The wind that was once a byproduct of my passage through the air was now also howling strongly at me from my right side. Turning stubbornly into the air current, I fought against the crosswind and began my descent as I grew closer to my destination. I didn’t want to risk a crash caused by rogue winds. The closer I was to the ground, the better.

The sound of driving rain greeted my ears as I approached the ground. An instant later I plowed straight into what felt like a solid wall of cascading water. Multitudes of water droplets pelted my exposed hair like so many tiny hammers. I blinked and shook my head to keep the runnels of water from seeping through my mane and obscuring my vision. Raindrops collected on the ScoutBuck’s screen as I flew on, pushed slowly off the side by the wind as I flew on. I was thankful to have it right where it was. With the screen suspended just in front of my eye, it kept me from having to blink to clear the rain. On one side, at least.

I shifted uncomfortably as my jacket continued to take on more water. It was sodden to the point of dripping now, and the increase in weight was a noticeable burden. Ignoring it as best I could, I pushed forward, desperate to make it to shelter and get out of the rain. I squinted through the downpour, feeling a sudden jolt of excitement when a small town resolved itself and steadily grew larger.

The familiar shape of bombed-out buildings rushed up to greet me as I streaked into the town. I swept my gaze up and down streets in my search for suitable shelter, but it was slim pickings from what I could see. Most of the buildings in the small town had either been destroyed during the war or had collapsed from a combination of age and the elements. Abandoned carriages and autowagons littered the empty roads, left behind when their occupants had fled for safety. Rainwater had begun to pool up in potholes in the pavement due in no small part to the storm’s severity. Runoff was streaming into the gutters at the sides of the road with such intensity that I could hear it splashing down even over the sound of the rain.

I didn’t find a suitable place for shelter until I’d neared the center of town. My ears perked up when I at last spied a small building at the street corner that looked promising. I couldn’t make out the text on the building’s sign in the dark, and so had no way to determine what its purpose was. Large plate glass windows overlooked the street, still miraculously intact after all this time. The interior beyond the windows was pitch black, but the building had four walls and a roof.

Swooping over to the door, I made a running landing and cantered into the shelter offered by the awning overhanging the sidewalk. Grasping the door handle with a hoof and half-expecting it to be locked, I was pleasantly surprised when it swung open with the tinkle of a bell and a squeal of rusty hinges. I stepped through the door as quick as I could in my haste to be out of the rain, my senses on full alert in case the building was occupied. I jumped and stifled a yelp when the door snapped shut on my hindquarters, the bell tinkling again as it bumped into my rump.

With the door shut, the noise from the storm deadened considerably. The deluge of rain was still audible from indoors, albeit muffled and far less obtrusive to my sense of hearing. I could hear water pattering down off of my soaked coat and landing on the floor mat beneath my hooves. Centuries of dust turned to wet muck as the puddle beneath my hooves steadily grew in size. My lip curled involuntarily at the thick sheet of grime coating the floor, and I nickered in disdain.

“Gross,” I complained. “Even that building in Ponyville wasn’t this dusty. Or the stable, for that matter.” My soaking wet coat and jacket were chilling me to the bone, and I shivered at the cold. I had to find a way to warm up, or at least dry off.

Reaching a hoof up to the ScoutBuck, I hit the toggle to activate the night vision. It didn’t give me much light in the pitch black room, but it did enable me to see. A quick glance showed me three or four aisles with shelves between them. By the door where I’d come in was a metal garbage can and a booth with an overturned register, drawer ajar. At the very back of the room a small group of refrigeration units lined the wall.  A corner grocery store?

A sudden pop up message on the ScoutBuck told me I’d discovered a general store. It took a moment to sink in, but when I realized how fortuitous it was that I’d found such a place I began prowling the aisles. If this was a general store, there was a good chance I could find some things to solve my problem. Maybe flashlights to cut through the darkness, lighters or matches to start a fire and get some heat… And maybe if I was really lucky, I’d find some food that hadn’t been looted yet. My stomach growled hungrily at the thought.

My frustration grew in sharp increments as I passed through each aisle and found nothing of use. The shelves were either completely bare, or they held items that were of no particular use to me. When I reached the end of the last aisle I lashed out in anger, batting aside a row of bottles and sending them tumbling to the floor.

“It figures,” I snarled, kicking away a bottle that had fallen nearby. I watched as it sailed across the room and hit the window with a dull thud. “I don’t know what I was thinking expecting there to be useful supplies left in this place.”

I shivered again and took another long look around the small store. No, there had to be something in here that I could start a fire with. I really didn’t feel like getting sick because I couldn’t dry my coat. I’d had survival training, what were the methods I could use to light kindling with limited resources? Think!

Friction was out, there was no way I’d be able to rub two bits of dry wood together long enough to generate decent heat. I didn’t have sunlight to reflect off of metal or through a lens, and I definitely didn’t have flint to generate a spark. I wracked my brain for more obscure ways to start a fire. I’d always heard it was possible to ignite steel wool with a battery. I hadn’t found either one of those when I’d looked through the aisles earlier.

Sighing, I looked down at the scattered bottles from my earlier outburst. They were all bottles of something called Wonderglue—some sort of extra-strength adhesive glue. I went to step over the bottles and froze in my tracks when an idea bubbled to the surface. Chemical reactions… Super glue! That could work! All I had to do was find kindling to keep the fire going and a safe place to start it so I wouldn’t burn the whole store to the ground. Adequate ventilation would also be a concern, but a quick look around revealed some windows up by the ceiling that I could open for that purpose.

Bolting over to the door, I snatched up the garbage can and dragged it to a spot just beneath a window. Hovering up to the window’s lofty perch, I was careful to avoid smashing my wings on anything as I unlocked it and tugged it inward to open it. Right, that was two things sorted. Now I needed to locate some kindling.

A little bit of poking around by the register turned up an old newspaper rack. I couldn’t see the condition of the papers through the night vision, but I had to imagine that they were all yellowed with age. I plucked one up and took a look at the headline. The very first word caught my attention and made my spine tingle when I read it. As a pegasus it held very special meaning to me, though it had never actually been relevant to me in the present day. I’d sure heard about it in history classes, though. Everypony had.


Cloudsdale Pledges Further Support to the War Effort;
The valiant pegasi of the City of Sun and Storm continue to enlist in record numbers


Cloudsdale… It had been our capital once upon a time, but the zebras had bombed it into nonexistence with their very first megaspell strike. They’d deliberately targeted us, no doubt due to our role as the backbone of Equestria’s infantry forces. My spine tingled with pride as I recalled my teachings of the vital role the pegasi played in the war.

Without Equestria’s legions of shock troops at its disposal, the zebras had severely hampered our nation’s military strength. Losing Cloudsdale had also caused the pegasi to retreat above the cloud cover and close off the skies for good. Those striped bastards had planned things well. They’d hit us right where it hurt the most.

I threw the paper back down onto the rack and dragged it over to where I’d set up the garbage can. Two more things and I’d be ready to go. I reached down to scoop up the bottle of glue I’d kicked earlier and brought it over to my impromptu fire pit. For the final piece of the puzzle, I dug a hoof into my ammo pouch and pulled out the remainder of my magical bandage roll. Unraveling it until it was just a wadded mass of cotton, I tossed it to the bottom of the garbage can and took hold of the glue. I’d heard about glue having some kind of chemical reaction with cotton that caused it to spontaneously combust. Hopefully it wasn’t all just a load of horseapples.

I fumbled the cap off of the glue bottle and took it up in my mouth, carefully leaning over the rim of the garbage can to empty its contents all over the pile of bandages. With the bottle drained and the bandages soaked, I stood back and waited. And waited. And waited. I was rewarded for my troubles not with fire—but with nothing but a few curls of smoke. Nickering angrily, I stepped back away from the can to avoid inhaling the fumes.

“Dammit!” I shouted, giving my wings an agitated half-hearted flap. “Okay, there’s gotta be another way to do this…” I thought for a moment, raising my foreleg to rub my chin pensively. When I caught sight of the pistol holster strapped to my leg, a thought surfaced. “I wonder if the heat from a magical energy beam would be enough to get an ember going?”

Sliding my pistol free, I ejected the small spark cell and reached a hoof back into my ammo pouch for another. A pop and crackle from over by the garbage can drew my attention, and I peered into it to investigate. It seemed that the mostly-depleted spark cell’s contacts had rubbed up against the metal surface of the garbage can, leaving blackened scorch marks wherever they’d hit. This accidental circumstance prompted another idea to bubble to the surface.

Turning my back on the garbage can, I made another sweep of the store. This time I went slowly and made sure to scan every possible surface. I was looking for something small and made of metal, like a paper clip or a bobby pin. If I could bridge the gap between the spark cell’s contacts with a thin enough piece of metal, I could get it to heat up enough to get a fire going.

Bottles, cans of cleaning solvents and pest spray toppled off of the shelves and scattered as they collided with my hooves. I’d just thrown a box of moth balls and some mouse traps to the floor when I spotted the answer to my problem. With no further delay, I seized the box in my mouth and trotted back over to my makeshift fire pit to tear it open.

I fumbled with the box for a moment, and the ancient cardboard crumbled at the slightest touch. As the box tore open, a cluster of ovular dull grey objects exploded outwards and went tumbling away in every direction. One such object came to rest up against the garbage can and I scooped it up in a hoof. Holding it up to eye level so I could examine it, I noted that it was a tightly packed bundle of metallic fibers. An abrasive that I could repurpose as a firestarter. 

“Steel wool,” I muttered triumphantly. “It’s perfect.”

Reaching over to my side, I threw the flap of my ammo pouch open once again and sifted through it until I’d managed to find another small spark cell. Snatching up one of the ancient newspapers, I rolled it into a loose cylinder with no small amount of difficulty and twisted one end so it wouldn’t unravel. With my makeshift torch constructed, I tore at the piece of steel wool until it was frayed and twice its original size. Loading the bundle into the paper cone, I picked the small spark cell up in my mouth and touched its contacts to the wool fibers.

Once the spark cell’s contacts touched the steel wool, the fibers began to glow cherry red and catch flame. As the embers spread to the paper cone, I blew on the fledgling fire to encourage it to burn brighter. It wasn’t long before flames were licking up out of the cone’s end like a torch, and I picked it up as carefully as I could. Tipping it over the edge of the garbage can, I dropped it onto the pile of cotton that was my failed first attempt at a fire.

When I was sure I wouldn’t smother the flames, I crumpled up several of the old newspapers and tossed them into the can one by one. The fire grew stronger as I fed it more fuel, but paper wouldn’t last me very long. I had to find something that would burn a little longer if I wanted to get enough heat to dry myself off.

After a little more poking around, I was able to come up with a few pieces of wood to burn. The newspaper stand itself had been mostly wood with a quartet of wheels to give it mobility, and I’d also managed to find a stool behind the checkout counter. It took a bit of awkward finagling, but I broke down both objects bit by bit and fed them into the garbage can to build up the fire. By the time I’d finished breaking down the stool and started on the newspaper stand, I had a pretty healthy flame going.

I made a nice pile out of the remainder of the wood and stripped down to my bare coat, placing my sodden jacket up against the fire-warmed metal can’s exterior to help dry it. With my jacket drying, I huddled up near the garbage can with the hopes of drying my own soggy hide. The ambient temperature wasn’t too cold, but the rain had dampened and cooled the night air a fair bit. Wet as I was, the warmth of the fire was inviting and provided a great deal of comfort and peace of mind. Something about the wan orange glow cast by the crackling flames made me feel safer.

The open window above seemed to be doing an adequate job at keeping the smoke from building up. It was a fairly small fire, and I figured it wouldn’t be an issue unless I decided to get a large bonfire going. I held my forehooves out towards the warmth of the fire, doing my best to ignore the rumbling in my gut. Even though I’d practically turned the place upside down and knew better, my stomach was still insistent in its demand for food. It couldn’t be helped. I’d just have to wait until I made it to my destination to scrounge up something to eat.

The warmth of the fire had a tranquilizing effect on me, and I was barely able to stop myself from nodding off several times. A brilliant flash illuminated the store and was followed by a loud crack of thunder that wrenched me out of my stupor. Shaking my head to clear the grogginess, I stood and meandered over to the plate glass windows at the storefront. I held a hoof up against the window and rested my forehead on its cool surface, looking through the dusty portal at the raging storm outside.

Rain. Thunder and lightning. Neither of them had been scheduled like the weather back home. It was surreal how wild and untamed the weather was. Large raindrops pelted everything beyond the window like bullets, slamming into the ground so hard they kicked up a fine mist. The street was beginning to turn into a lake as the drains failed to keep up with the water runoff. I could see various bits of litter drifting on by with the current, some pelted so hard by the rain they were temporarily submerged. Every so often a bolt of lightning would fork downwards from the skies above, illuminating the storefront and everything outside for a split second.

Above the clouds—that was where I belonged. Not down here in the Wasteland roughing it like these barely-civilized dirt munchers. I rapped my forehead against the glass repeatedly, eliciting a dull thunk each time my skull came into contact with the window. Stupid. Stupid. This was my life now, whether or not I liked it.

My shoulders slumped, weary with the weight of the resignation to my future. I turned, leaving the window behind me to return to the warmth of the fire. I didn’t want to think about this anymore. Dwelling on things was a bad habit of mine and I needed to shake it if I wanted to survive down here. The best thing to do at this point would be to listen to my body and get some sleep. I’d feel a lot better in the morning with a fresh start and the final leg of my trip ahead of me. If I could reach my destination fast enough, I could even find somewhere to scrounge up some food.

Nodding in approval, I balled up my jacket and lowered myself to the dusty floor, cradling the fire-warmed fabric between my forehooves. Burying my face deep into the folds of my jacket, I let the sounds of the raging storm lull me to sleep.


*                *                *


It was a nice cool morning following the storm, and I felt pretty good all things considered. I breathed deeply, savoring the delightful scent of damp earth as it entered my nostrils. The wind was blowing through my mane again, and I was back on course to my destination. I felt pretty confident that I could reach it by or just before noon. Flying through the night had allowed me to make pretty good headway on my trip. A glance at my map told me that I’d managed to fly nearly three-quarters of the way to my destination last night alone. I’d set out pretty early this morning. My overnight stop hadn’t hampered my travel time any, though strictly speaking, I wasn’t exactly on a schedule. I was in a bit of a hurry to get to this ‘Sanctuary’ though. The faster I could re-establish order and a routine, the faster I could find my place in things and settle down into Wasteland life.

Caps were my number one concern at the moment. The majority of my problems all seemed to stem from the fact that I was dirt poor by Wasteland standards. I needed to find somewhere to live and a way to put water and food in my stomach. To do that I’d need caps, of which I had precisely none. I’d gone from everything to nothing in ten seconds flat. I had no home, no money, and no way to make sure I stayed fed or even safe from the elements or those with ill intent. There was nopony down here I knew, either. Nopony who would be willing to support me for the time being. I had no relatives or friends whose hospitality I could depend on while I got back on my hooves.

I suppose I’d been asking for it by sticking my neck out for my father. Crabby old bastard hadn’t even appreciated it. It would figure that the one time I decided to do something nice for him I’d end up fucked in the ass for it. I fully expected him to find some way to undermine my sacrifice by telling my mother and sister how stupid I was. That’d be just like him. Always harping on about my mistakes and never acknowledging the things I did right. Maybe with me out of the picture he’d finally start to feel guilty about treating me like shit all my life. I truly hoped guilt was festering in his gut like a bad apple.

I smiled wickedly when I pictured the dressing-down my mother would give him once she heard the news. We never would’ve wound up in this mess if he hadn’t been so paranoid about secrecy. I didn’t know why he was so obsessed with concealing my stars-given talent, but everything would’ve been so much better for everypony if he’d just let me apply for the Wonderb—

A bright pink energy bolt streaked past my head close enough to singe my hair. I heard the distinctive crack of the weapon’s report a split-second later, and I could taste ozone on the air as a result of its passage. Raw instinct and training kicked in as I rolled left and banked hard. My quick response allowed me to dodge a follow-up shot from the unknown assassin, but just barely. Speed. I needed speed. I had no way to return fire short of my energy pistol, and I was liable to drop it in the middle of a dogfight. I needed to break away and disengage as fast as possible if I wanted to survive this.

Tipping my nose down, I launched into a steep dive. The sound of the whistling wind in my ears became a deafening roar as I began to accelerate. Several tense moments passed before my pursuer opened fire again, putting to rest my hopes of having shaken them. Pink bolts whizzed past me in a sporadic pattern, leading me to guess that my assailant was most likely using an energy pistol. That was somewhat relieving news. If they weren’t fielding Sunburst rifles, that meant they didn’t have power armor either. If worse came to worst, I’d at least have a chance at defending myself.

I made a slight adjustment to my wings so that my trailing feathers were oriented in opposite directions. The maneuver threw me into a tight corkscrew—an effort to make myself a little harder to draw a bead on—but it didn’t discourage my attacker one bit. I tensed up as even more energy bolts soared past me too close for comfort. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. Maybe I needed to get aggressive and lose my tail with a more offense-oriented approach.

Once the next volley of fire lanced past me I rolled hard to my right and looped back in a hard turn. Color drained away and I could see my vision starting to tunnel as I pulled tighter through the turn. I clenched every leg muscle I could before the high-G turn could deprive my brain of sufficient blood flow to remain conscious. Tilting my head back and squinting through the blackout, I was just able to spot my pursuer’s tail blowing in the wind. The pony in question was trying to stay on my six, but they were moving far too fast in their attempt to close the distance. Braking had shortened my turning radius and it wasn’t long before I was on my attacker’s tail. Color was returning now that I’d finished my maneuver, and I accelerated to close to melee range.

Up ahead of me, the stormy grey mare’s wings beat with the speed of a hummingbird’s as she tried to pull away. One quick glance told me I wasn’t dealing with a wasteland-born pegasus. Dark grey officer’s fatigues revealed the mare’s allegiance to the Grand Pegasus Enclave. My jaw dropped and an involuntary gasp slipped out. They’d found me again? How had they tracked me so fast? Nopony in the Enclave should have been able to determine my current whereabouts. I’d flown halfway across Equestria since yesterday afternoon!

My mouth had been halfway to the grip of the knife on my shoulder when I thought better of it. I needed answers. I needed to capture this mare alive and figure out why not one—but two search teams had managed to find me already. An involuntary shudder went down my spine when I remembered that armored, wraithlike figure’s promise to hunt me down. If regular troopers could track me down, a specialist like him could probably manage it twice as easily. With my goal clear, I beat my wings a little harder and gave chase.

My target turned out to be a nimble little flyer, and she shot a quick glance over her shoulder before putting on a quick burst of speed. I felt a fire light in my chest and broke out in a grin. If that was the way it was going to be, then I certainly wasn’t going to complain. It had been a long time since I’d played a little game of cat and mouse. Not since my flight school days. I beat my wings harder and hastened to catch up, tingles of exhilaration working their way through my body in my excitement.

The mare banked and rolled erratically to try and shake me, but I stuck to her like glue. When she entered a steep climb I slowed in order to maintain visual. I didn’t speed up again until she’d finished her half-loop with a roll, completely reversing direction. A roll-off-the-top. Classy!

A searing heat across my left foreleg made my mistake clear as day. I hissed and pulled my burned leg inward towards the security of my body. The offending bolt of energy that wounded me continued onward before fading far in the distance. A quick look over my shoulder elicited a growl of frustration. She was behind me! How had she gotten behind me? I’d followed her through that entire loop! No way was I about to let this pony outfly me. I’d never been bested in aerial combat, and I was not about to let that change. This time it wasn’t a training exercise—my life was on the line.

My best option given the circumstances was counter-intuitive but always effective on the unsuspecting. It was time to hit the brakes. I flared my wings out like two massive sails and lurched to an abrupt halt. An instant later, a grey streak soared past me and I flew off again in pursuit of my troublesome assassin. To her credit she was quick to react. When she realized what had happened, she nosed down and went into a steep dive to break line of fire. I followed close on her tail, folding my wings and dropping down after her like a hawk striking prey.

A faint pink tint enveloped everything I could see and increased in saturation as I picked up speed. If I was in this dive for too long I risked serious injury, but if my prey could handle it so could I. Time stretched on for what seemed like an eternity as I plummeted after the fleeing mare, and when she abruptly pulled up out of the dive I grinned triumphantly. Shifting my angle of attack to intercept, I pulled my nose up out of vertical and pointed it at a spot several meters ahead of her flight path. I still had the speed advantage. She was mine now.

As I neared the Enclave mare I stretched my forelegs out ahead of me. If I hit her in the midsection I could pin her wings to her sides and she’d be completely helpless. Unless she wanted to risk falling out of the sky, she’d have to remain securely within my grasp. There was of course the nagging little thought at the back of my mind reminding me that I didn’t know how strong this mare was. I had no idea if I’d be able to restrain her once we made it to the ground, but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. In a worst-case scenario I could always pull my knife on her.

Seconds before I made contact with the mare, quite a few things were made crystal clear. Everything lurched violently as a pair of hooves wrapped themselves around my midsection and pulled me into a sharp dive. I flailed as I lost sight of my target, thrashing and twisting in a desperate attempt to escape the clutches of the pony who’d grabbed me. How had I missed a second pony? I would’ve noticed another pony when I’d looped around to tail my target!

My blood ran cold when I realized my mistake. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it in the rapid descent, but I managed to put all the pieces together moments before we hit the ground. Back when I’d been tailing her through her roll-off-the-top—that was when everything should’ve been clear as day. I’d been tailing one mare while the other dropped back on to my tail and stuck with me. When I’d banked to go after her I’d let my guard down. I thought she’d gotten behind me, but in reality it had been two mares who looked exactly alike.

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt when my body was driven hard into the dirt. As rough landings went, it was a rough one. Rocks and tiny bits of grit ground at the flesh beneath my coat as my momentum grated me against the dirt like a piece of cheese. My pursuer and I both cried out when my jacket snagged on the ground and sent us tumbling end-over-end, each of us fighting to gain the upper hoof on the other. With the way my luck had been going, naturally I came out on the bottom.

“The jig is up,” a familiar voice said from behind me as we tumbled to a stop and the speaker clambered atop me. A foreleg found its way to the back of my neck and slammed my head against the dirt, while at the same time a pair of hind legs straddled my back and pinned my wings to my sides.

“The noose is out,” the exact same voice said from above me. With great difficulty, I managed to swivel my free eye around towards the speaker. Hovering just at the edge of my peripheral vision was yet another pegasus. Two Enclave troopers. Oh, I was so fucked.

“We finally found you,” the two mares finished together. It was then that recognition struck me like a lightning bolt. Their identical coat and mane colors, the similar voices… It was the Wind Twins. Captains Gust and Gale—the same two mares I’d been flying with the night I’d fled the cloud cover.

Dread seeped into my gut like I’d swallowed a glass of ice cold water. Why here? Why now? How had they found me, and why had they gone through all the trouble to take me alive? They’d been shooting at me only moments before! The only motive I could think of was their pre-existing hate for my family and I. I was certain that was why they’d been so keen to see me trip up on the reconnaissance flight. There was no doubt that this was the reason why Gale had been so furious that I’d escaped punishment.

“Well, well, well,” the mare above me said. I recognized the curt haughty tone as belonging to Gale. “Look what we’ve found, Gust. A treacherous little rat.” I winced as the mare dropped to land by my head, her wings stirring up dirt and scattering it into my eyes. “Accessing and purging classified data? Interrupting an interrogation in progress and assaulting a superior officer? Desertion, disobeying orders, refusal to cooperate and fleeing arrest?” I glared defiantly at the mare as she lowered her head so that we were eye-to-eye. Gale grinned wickedly. “I knew you’d slip up one day. Oh, how I waited for you to make the wrong move. What a lucky mare I am to have been the one to catch you.”

“If we’re going to do this we have to do it quick, Gale,” Gust said from atop me. “Remember what the recon debriefs said? This area is a Steel Ranger and insurgent hotspot. We don’t want to be caught alone out here. Less so while we’re busy dealing with this asshole.”

Steel Rangers. The last thing I wanted was to be caught pinned to the ground if one of those walking tanks showed up. One glance and we’d all be nothing but tiny little bits of pony mulch. What was that other thing she mentioned? Insurgents? What in Equestria was she talking about?

“I remember, Gust,” Gale said, pawing at the dirt with a hoof. “I think we can afford a few moments of glory. It’s not as if we broadcasted our presence by flying in on a sky-tank. It’s just us. You, me… and the traitor.”

“Alleged traitor, thank you,” I interjected. “How the hell did you find me? I’ve flown almost halfway across Equestria since last contact with Enclave troopers.”

“We have our ways, though I find it amusing that you think your movements wouldn’t be predictable,” Gale sneered. “The Council should’ve known you weren’t to be trusted when you botched that mission last year. They let you off with a slap on the fetlock and look where we’ve found you a year later—hightailing it straight back to your little insurrectionist friends.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarled. “If I’m a rebel like you say I am, don’t you think I would’ve defected immediately after ‘intentionally’ botching that mission? A mission that was successful, by the way. I’d just like to point out that I got the target. Eventually.”

“That’s a load of horseapples,” Gale said, her triumphant grin fading to make way for a disgusted scowl. “If that was the truth we wouldn’t have tracked you all the way to—”

“Gale, come on,” Gust snapped, her urgent hiss loud in my ear. “What if he’s made contact with them already? We spend too much time down here and we’ll be lucky to avoid being shot full of holes!”

Made contact with who? What were these two lunatics talking about?

“Right. You’re right, I’ve let this idiot distract me for long enough.” I tried to follow Gale as she moved out of my peripheral vision, walking over to stand somewhere behind me. “It’s time to be done with you once and for all.”

“Sorry I don’t fit into your busy schedule,” I snarked, “But if you’re in such a hurry, why didn’t you just shoot me earlier and be on your merry way?”

“There’s a couple reasons,” Gale said, her tone casual. “For one, we weren’t ordered to. The primary reason, though? The one most important to us?” Gale began shuffling through her equipment, and I heard the familiar hum of crackling magical energy once she found what she was looking for. “We want to see the look on your face once you finally hit rock bottom. Cover his mouth, Gust. He’s going to scream.”

Before I could voice my confusion, Gust’s free hoof clamped down over my muzzle. My heart began to quicken in a panic, and flashes of my encounter with Curb Stomp and Garrote flew through my mind at a breakneck pace. What was she about to do to me? Was she going to geld me, or kick me in the balls until I passed out from the pain? Jam something so far up my ass I’d be left to suffer and die from internal trauma?

I felt it the very next moment, and Gale was right—I did scream. Unbelievably intense pain flared up on my right flank, and I heard as much as felt the sound of sizzling flesh. The smell of burned hair and skin reached my nostrils not long after. Adrenaline was surging through me now, and I thrashed with the power of a pony possessed to break free of Gust’s hold on me. My forelegs clawed and scrabbled at the dirt and I managed to get my hind legs under me, tossing the mare off of my back as I scrambled to my hooves.

“What did you do to me!?” I screamed as I turned to level my gaze at Gale. Waves of pain continued to radiate outward from my flank, combining with the adrenaline to make my legs quiver beneath me.

“Just a little volunteer work, Outlaw,” Gale said, practically spitting the last word. “If your loyalty lies not with your fellow ponies but instead with your rebel ilk, then you may as well look the part. By the authority granted to me by the High Council, you are hereby officially expatriated from the Grand Pegasus Enclave. You have no right to a trial or an appeal. Any and all possessions issued by the Enclave military shall be relinquished at this time, and any attempts to regain entry into Enclave territory will be met with lethal force. 

“Now,” Gale continued, smiling sweetly. “You can either turn around so I can do the other side, or we’ll pin you again and do it by force.”

Gale’s words faded out, to be replaced by a high pitched ringing in my ears as I turned to examine my flank. The little winged horseshoe that had been with me since I was a foal had gone. In its place was a hideous patch of raw, burned skin in the shape of a cloud and lightning bolt. An unmistakable, irremovable sign imprinted upon me with a magical energy brand. A sign telling anypony who saw me that I was a traitor to the Enclave. Even as I watched, the branding iron’s magic continued to work, causing the parts of my cutie mark it hadn’t burned to slowly fade away. Moments later, there was nothing left on my right flank but an exact replica of Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark.

My cutie mark… they’d taken my cutie mark. They’d turned me into a Dashite. I’d just lost any hope of ever seeing my family or home ever again. It was just as Gale had said—if I showed my face above the clouds now, they’d kill me. As the realization began to set in, my thoughts decomposed into an incomprehensible droning buzz. An eyelid twitched and red hot fury surged through me as I fixated on Gale’s grinning mouth clamped around the handle of the branding iron. Her unbridled glee at my misfortune lit a fire inside me and my chest started heaving as the rage bubbled over.

Both sisters barely had time to react as I flared my wings out and deftly snapped them, boosting myself forward towards the smiling mare. I crossed the distance between us in a split second and drove my hoof into Gale’s mouth with every bit of strength I could muster. The mare cried out in pain and spat out the brand along with a few teeth as she reeled from the blow. I managed to catch the brand before it hit the ground and without a passing thought, swung it as hard as I could at Gale’s head.

A jolt of exhilaration coursed through me when Gale screamed in pain, and I pulled the brand back for another strike. The feel of the impact through the brand, the sickening crack each time it made contact with Gale’s skull touched me on such a primal level that all I could think about was causing her more pain. She had to suffer. She had to pay for what she’d done to me, and by Polaris I’d make sure she did. I hit the Enclave mare again and again until she went limp and fell to the ground. Even when she ceased moving, I didn’t stop. I was lost, completely overtaken by bloodlust to the point where I was further enraged when the sharp end of the lightning bolt lodged firmly in the dead mare’s skull.

I regained some small semblance of sanity when a screaming ball of mare slammed into me and drove me into the dirt. I rolled to keep her from pinning me but she rolled with me, her hooves throwing punch after punch at my head. The branding iron had fallen when she’d tackled me, but I spotted it as I came up on top of her. Snatching it up in my forehooves, I slammed it down across her neck before she could throw me into another roll.

“You… lunatic!” Gust choked as I pinned her to the ground by her throat. “You… murdered… my sister! You... murdered her!”

“You took my cutie mark!” I screamed into Gust’s face, leaning forward to press my nose to hers. “You hunted me down to brand me like an animal! At least Aeolus had the common decency to try and shoot me instead of disfiguring me!”

“You’re.. dead,” Gust said, tears beginning to stream from her eyes as she began to suffocate. “They’ll… find you. They’ll kill you.”

“Doubt it,” I said coldly. “I have no worth to the Enclave anymore. Why waste time hunting me down? I’m a Dashite now thanks to you and your sister. I’m a Dashite… and you two are just casualties of the Wasteland.”

I was about to press down harder and crush Gust’s windpipe, but I froze when a modulated voice called out from nearby.

“Well, look what we have here,” the unknown voice said, and I looked up to see a pair of Steel Rangers approaching us, bristling with ordnance. My blood ran cold and I fought to push the multitude of ways I could possibly die to the back of my mind. It was fairly difficult when my eyes kept sweeping over multi-rocket launchers, missile launchers and grenade machine guns. Swallowing nervously, I eased back to let Gust breathe. “I thought that was just tracer fire in the skies, but it looks like it was really a couple of little birdies settling a disagreement.”

“What do you want?” I said, my tone even and neutral. It was best not to piss these two off. If I said the wrong thing they wouldn’t hesitate to turn me into a smear on the ground. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“It’s been a while since our Elder has heard from your commander,” one of the Rangers explained. “The lapse in communication is starting to piss him off. Seeing as how we’ve been fortunate enough to happen across you two, I figure you can offer up some kind of explanation for us.”

“What’s he talking about?” I whispered to Gust, hoping the armored Ranger’s helmet would make hearing me difficult.

“Oh don’t act like you don’t already know,” Gust spat, coughing and spluttering as she caught her breath. “I don’t know who you’re trying to convince with this act of yours, you treacherous wretch.”

“Watch it, bitch. You should be thanking me for easing up. Actually, you should probably be thanking them.”

“You killed my sister and you want me to thank you?” Gust snarled, her expression twisting in utter shock.

“Regardless of the circumstance I think sparing your life deserves a certain degree of gratitude, yeah.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Hey!” the Ranger barked, and both of our heads snapped over to focus on him. “No whispering. Couple of Enclave ponies get to whispering nearby, I start to get nervous. Maybe they’re plotting something, y’know?” The Ranger rolled one armored shoulder in a shrug and began to pace back and forth. “Maybe they’re coming up with a plan to pull one over on me and my partner here so they can turn tail and flee. You’re all on thin ice as far as we’re concerned. Trust is a two-way street, and your commander hasn’t been giving us much of his.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen,” the Ranger said, ceasing his pacing and leveling what was clearly a missile launcher at the pair of us. “You’re gonna answer my question. If I don’t get an answer I like, you’re coming with us back to base. If you decide you want to get smart and run, I have no problems turning you into a crater. Are we clear?”

“Look pal,” I said, rising to my hooves and stepping slowly away from Gust. “Like I said earlier, I don’t want any trouble.”

I had to get away from these two. This was a complicated situation and I was in way over my head. Combined with what the twins had been saying, there was a lot going on here that I didn’t understand. Whatever these Steel Rangers were talking about sounded like something I didn’t want to be caught up in. I couldn’t even begin to fathom why Enclave troopers would work with Steel Rangers, let alone conduct operations groundside for any length of time. Those Rangers had to be fucking with us.

“There won’t be any trouble if you cooperate with us,” the Ranger said, tracking me as I moved away from Gust.

“Look, this is all a misunderstanding,” I said as Gust rolled over and pushed herself to her hooves. “Yeah it’s true that I was an Enclave soldier up until a few days ago, but this is the first time I’ve ever been this far east. It’s also the first time I’ve been on the ground for this long, so whoever it is you’re talking about I’ve never even met. Even if I was still in active service, I doubt my CO would be involved with Steel Rangers. We hate each other.” Wait, why’d I say that? Backpedal! “Uh... present company excluded?”

The two Rangers shared a glance before turning to look back at me. I tried to imagine flat expressions behind their helmets.

“I can verify that this traitor is no longer affiliated with the Grand Pegasus Enclave,” Gust said. What the hell was she playing at? What did she stand to gain from backing me up? “As you can see if you look at his flank, my sister and I were in the process of branding him a Dashite when things went...awry.” Gust’s voice cracked and she raised a hoof to wipe at her eyes. She shook visibly for a few moments while she regained her composure before dropping her hoof and fixing the Rangers with a steely glare. “I don’t think he’ll be of any use to you. I, on the other hoof, will answer your questions to the best of my ability. I’ve heard enough to understand that you’ve got things a little confused.”

That bitch! She was trying to convince them to get rid of me in exchange for her cooperation!

I started creeping slowly backward, being careful to keep Gust’s body between myself and the Rangers as I did. If I could get far enough away before they noticed, I could be in the sky and gone before they could blow me to bits. Odds were equally likely they’d blow her up and then blow me up right afterward, but it didn’t deter me any. If there was one thing I’d learned the past few days, any chance to get away with my life was a chance worth taking.

“Whoa, where’s the fire, buddy?” One of the Rangers called out, and I froze like a startled deer. “You got somewhere to be?”

I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options before I realized that there was really only one. Time to jet.

I turned tail and bolted as fast as my legs could carry me, hastily unfurling my wings as I ran. Both Rangers started yelling the moment I took off, and the projectiles started flying shortly after. Rockets streaked past me as I began ascending. Grenades and other munitions exploded underhoof, throwing up plumes of dirt and rocks that pelted me from beneath as I gained altitude. Much to my surprise, it looked like I was going to make a relatively clean getaway. I was just starting to relax, thanking the stars that neither one of them had been equipped with a minigun when everything became a blur.

A sudden flash of heat and light from directly below partially blinded me and robbed me of my hearing. At the same time I felt the wind knocked out of me and breathing became difficult. The world around me started spinning, and I began looking everywhere in a panic as I desperately sought shelter from the Rangers. My chest was aching and I coughed as I tried to draw breath, spraying blood into the air and throwing my mind into turmoil.

My heartbeat was the only thing I could hear clearly as it pounded in rapid, erratic terror. I could barely hear the wind over the ringing in my ears and my own heart and breathing. I had to put down. I had to find someplace to land and rummage for healing potions. I had nothing, and if I couldn’t find medical supplies I was dead meat.

I hastily scanned buildings beneath me as they passed by. I was having a difficult time beating my wings hard enough to keep myself in the air and I was losing altitude at a steady rate. Whatever that rocket detonation had done to me had left me winded. It was impossible for me to catch my breath, and I felt my strength fading as I wheezed and coughed up more blood. An autowagon service station about fifty meters ahead of me caught my eye and I set my sights on it. Autowagon repair had to be a dangerous profession. Dangerous professions would require emergency medical kits on site. That was my best bet.

When I made my approach to the service station I was flying almost too slow to keep airborne. I gave a few desperate flaps to keep from stalling and nosed down to speed up my landing. When my hooves touched down I overbalanced, stumbling forward like an awkward drunk. Pausing a moment to steady myself, I started moving towards the door of the service station as quick as I could without falling over. My breathing and heartbeat were loud in my ears and my vision kept threatening to white out before slowly fading back into color.

By the time I reached the door and managed to open it, I could barely catch my breath. I plodded slowly into the service station, wheezing in a desperate attempt to sate my body’s thirst for oxygen. My heartbeat was thundering in my ears as I made my way into the service station’s dark interior. I wasn’t that far from the door when I felt myself convulse, and I couldn’t suppress a sudden hacking cough. More blood dripped out of my mouth to patter down onto the worn linoleum floor in a shower of crimson specks. My legs gave out beneath me a moment afterward and I flopped down hard to the floor.

Oh stars, I was going to die. This was it. Not even a week in the Wasteland and I was already knocking on Death’s door. I squeezed my eyes shut tight as burning hot tears began to well up. I didn’t want to die. I missed my home, I missed my family and friends above the clouds. Would they even miss me? They’d never even know I was dead. I was about to drown in my own blood farther away from my home than I’d ever been in my life, and nopony knew I was even here. I was… I was going to die alone.

“Hello? Is somepony there?”

Or maybe not.

Feigning death, I continued to lay prone, conserving what little of my energy I had left in case I needed it. I tried to see as much as I could with my free eye, but the interior of the station was dark except for dim light seeping in through the boarded-up windows. A moment later, I spotted a new source of light. A pale orange glow drifted out from a back room, and I saw a weapon enveloped within the magical field of a unicorn. The pony herself wandered in just after the gun, and I snapped my eye shut when she took note of me lying on the floor.

“What in Celestia’s name…?” the mare said, completely befuddled. “Oh bloody hell. Probably another raider having a laugh. You lot have caused me enough trouble, yeah? I’ve about had it up to my bloody horn dealing with you bastards while I’m scavenging.” The unicorn walked carefully over to me, but she kept her distance. She held her weapon close and ready to fire, though she didn’t point it directly at me. I had an idea, but I needed her to get a little closer. “Wait a moment, this is no raider… What’s your story, mate? You alright?”

I didn’t answer, and I tried my best to remain motionless. The curious unicorn wandered closer, and I gathered every last bit of my remaining strength. When she’d gotten close enough to me to touch, I pushed myself to my hooves and hooked a foreleg around her neck before she could back away. I reached over to my knife sheath and tugged it out, holding it firmly against her throat and silencing her cry of protest. When the steel met the flesh of her neck, I heard her weapon clatter to the floor as she lost concentration and dropped it.

“G-Give me all… Give me your healing potions,” I wheezed. “Give ‘em to me and you can… can go.”

“Can’t you ask like a normal person?”

“I’m serious,” I said. “Just give… give me your healing potions. I’ll open you like a letter, I swear to Polaris.”

“Haven’t gotten as far as I have letting other ponies bully me, mate,” the unicorn said. “I’ve been raised not to negotiate with hostage takers.”

As she said it, I felt the barrel of a pistol seat itself firmly against my chin. I noticed a sudden absence of the familiar weight on the leg I had my pistol holster strapped to. Looking down, I noticed it was conspicuously empty. The twinkling of unicorn magic beneath my chin made it obvious that I’d just been outplayed. I really was going to die now. I’d just burned my only chance at help by trying to shake down this Wastelander. My legs shuddered and gave out again, and I collapsed back down to the floor.

I laid there out of breath as the last vestiges of my strength began to ebb away. My eyelids were growing heavier by the second, and I no longer had the energy to force them back open. As they drooped shut for what I imagined was the final time, I offered up a prayer to Polaris for guidance as blackness claimed me.


*                *                *


It came as quite a shock when I regained consciousness. Not only was I surprised to still be amongst the living, I wasn’t expecting to feel as good as I did. I still didn’t feel one-hundred percent, but I was doing leaps and bounds better than when I’d passed out. Breathing was a lot easier—if slightly uncomfortable—and my hearing had returned to normal. I realized my jacket and effects were missing when a cool draft blew through the building’s interior, gently rusting my feathers and mane. I also felt bandages on a bunch of small wounds I’d been too distracted to notice myself.

An uncomfortable prickle at the back of my neck told me I wasn’t alone. Putting two and two together told me that it must have been the unicorn I’d tried to rob. I thanked my lucky stars I had my back to her. I wasn’t sure I could look her in the face after she’d helped me despite everything.

“Why?” I asked quietly, blurting the biggest question on my mind.

There was a short pause before she answered, in an accented Equestrian dialect that I wasn’t quite familiar with. “Not quite sure I know myself,” the unicorn said. “I mean, I reckon I sort of thought about it a bit afterward but I’m not quite sure why I helped as quick as I did.”

“What did you come up with once you thought about it?” I asked, before hastily adding, “If you don’t mind saying, that is.”

“Well not to sound racist or anything, but the first thing I took note of was your wings,” the unicorn answered. She walked over from where she was standing behind me to sit where I could see her, albeit just outside of melee range. “We don’t exactly get many pegasi ‘round here. Then when I noticed your patch and equipment, I figured you were Enclave.”

“You’d have been right a few days ago,” I said. “Since then, not so much.”

The unicorn nodded. “So I tried to put myself in your horseshoes. I’m an injured Enclave pegasus seeking medical supplies. Dunno where the bloody hell I am, probably scared out of my gourd dealing with the shock of Wasteland life, and I’m already not thinking quite straight. Next thing I know, a scavenging unicorn mare is walking up to me with a loaded gun, and she probably came prepared. I’d be right foolish not to pass the chance up.”

“So you’re saying you took care of my injuries because you can sympathize with me?”

“Yeah, I reckon that’s about the size of it,” the unicorn said, lifting a hoof to scratch at her cream-colored muzzle. “Did the best I could. Healing potions have stopped the bleeding for the most part. I’ve bandaged all of the small cuts and scrapes, but I couldn’t seem to do anything about that burn on your flank. That one that looks sort of like the symbol for the Ministry of Awesome.”

I suddenly felt sick, and I curled tightly into a ball. “That’s a Dashite brand. They… The Enclave brands ponies that defy the government’s ideologies. It’s a magical energy scar, there’s no healing it. It’ll be with me until the day I die.”

The unicorn frowned grimly. She looked like she wanted to inquire further, but thankfully she did not. “I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be stripped of your cutie mark. Look, er…”

“Mach,” I supplied.

“Mach,” the unicorn parroted. “My name’s Greaser. I imagine you’re probably wondering why I didn’t leave after patching you up.”

“It’s one thought among many, yes.”

“Well, you’re still not out of the woods yet,” Greaser said. “I’d like to take you to be examined by a good friend of mine. This bloke’s the best surgeon I know, bar none. He’ll be able to look you over good and proper. Make sure you heal up right.”

I immediately grew suspicious. “I’m just supposed to trust you?”

“Mate, I could’ve let you bleed to death,” Greaser said, rolling her eyes and sighing. “I could’ve killed you bloody loads of times since then as well. Unconscious ponies are rather vulnerable, you understand. I know you probably think I’ll try to find a way to take revenge for being held hostage, yeah? That’s not the kind of pony I am. I dunno what things are like up there above the clouds, but we’ve got all sorts down here. We got off to a rocky start, but I believe in second chances. I just want to help you, mate. That’s all.”

I sat up with some difficulty, hissing in pain as I moved my forelegs and exerted my chest muscles. Yeah, I was still definitely in pretty rough shape. Was it a good idea to accept help from a mare I’d tried to kill? If she was lying and still harboring serious feelings of resentment, she could sell me up the river and I’d be none the wiser. Then again, she had a really good point when she said she could’ve killed me several times over already. If she was anything like Solara though, she could hold on to a grudge for a very long time.

I looked up into her emerald green eyes as I pushed myself up and tried to get a read on her character. She smiled hopefully at me, and in that instant I knew she was a good pony. Her cheerful spirits were infectious. I felt myself grinning back with my usual lopsided cocky grin, and I gave my wings an excited half-flap. After all these days of traveling alone, I finally had somepony who was actually willing to travel along with me. She could be a companion. A friend.

“I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, Greaser,” I said. “You’re good people. Now show me to my stuff and let’s blow this joint.”

“Good on ya, mate!” Greaser said, rushing over to give me a hug. My wings exploded outward in surprise. “I know things went tits-up at first but you’ll be glad we met, I’m certain.”

“I’m not sure how much weight my word carries to you as of this minute, but I believe you,” I said, reaching up a foreleg to hug her back. “I really do.”



Footnote: Level up.

Perk Added:
Mark of the Dashite – You’ve been officially exiled by your people. Visible proof of your alleged loyalty to Rainbow Dash has made Wastelanders quicker to trust you. As a result, you receive a permanent 10-point bonus to your Speech and Barter skills.
> Chapter 9: Hospitality
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Chapter 9: Hospitality



“Y’know, you could at least let me have the ammo for my pistol,” I said, trying my absolute best to remain friendly. “I’m gonna need to be able to defend myself if we’re attacked. If there’s one thing I’ve learned down here it’s that death is only an empty magazine away. Or uh, gem pack in my case.”

“Don’t get your feathers all rustled, Birdie,” Greaser replied. “I know this place like the back of my bloody hoof. I can get us to the city in one piece, and if anything comes after us I’m more than prepared to deal with it.”

I felt my feathers bristle in irritation. “Okay, my feathers are not rustled—”

“Who’s the mare that’s spent her entire life down here?” Greaser asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“You are, but—”

“Now how long have you been down here?”

“I dunno, like three days?” I guessed. “Even if that’s the case, I don’t see how—”

“Exactly,” Greaser said as she turned, her orange ponytail swinging over her shoulder. “Three days versus a lifetime. I know where we are and how to get where we’re going. I know the dangers of the area and how to avoid them, and I’ve also picked up a sizable knowledge of the wildlife. I trust you enough to travel with you but that doesn’t mean I trust you with a loaded weapon.”

“And here I thought we were getting along so well,” I sighed ruefully.

“I said I wanted to make sure you were all right, I didn’t say anything about trusting you,” Greaser said. “I’m just not the type of pony to leave a stranger to die. If you want to be one of my mates you’re going to have to work up to it, yeah? I’m willing to forgive and forget—provided you don’t try to stab me again anytime soon.”

“No, that—you don’t have to worry about that,” I said with little enthusiasm. “The last thing on my mind is turning on you, especially after you helped me.” Maybe I’d read too far into that hug. Now was as good a time as any to ask about it though. “You always hug ponies who try to kill you?”

Greaser nickered quietly. “Tend to get a bit enthusiastic sometimes when I’m meeting new ponies. It’s not always a good thing, but I’ve made a lot of nice friends over the years. It’s also helped me to keep off of anypony’s bad side,” She added pointedly. “Awful hard to stay mad at a cheery pony, innit? Kill ‘em with kindness, I say.”

“Right, yeah…” I muttered. “Friends.”

“What’s wrong?” Greaser asked, turning to look at me with her brow raised in concern. “Don’t you have any friends?”

“Uh,” I faltered, looking over my shoulders at the empty space behind me. “Not anymore? I mean, I did when I was living above the clouds. A small group. I’ve never been all that great at making friends. I have what my sister calls an ‘insufferable personality.’”

Greaser snorted.

“No, seriously,” I insisted.

Things grew quiet for a while, and I followed Greaser as she made her way to our destination. I was putting a lot of trust in her not to lead me right into an ambush. She really had no reason not to walk me across a minefield or into a building occupied by raiders. I was relying entirely on her perceived good-natured intentions. She seemed nice enough and her offer appeared genuine as far as I could tell, but even so I found myself awash with mild anxiety.

Up until recently we’d been following a main road towards a distant city. As we approached the city limits and the buildings grew orders of magnitudes taller, I paused to gaze curiously at an old sign by the roadside. It was a sign welcoming travelers to the city. Several of the letters had fallen off at some point, leaving behind an odd jumble that didn't quite spell out the city’s full name.


Welcome to the city of Buck s To  n


“Buckston?” I said, sounding it out.

“It is now,” Greaser said as she doubled back to see why I’d stopped. “The apostrophe and the W have long gone, so it’s taken on a bit of a new identity. The place used to be called Buck’s Town before the war. Quite a bit bigger than a town now, as you can bloody well see,” the unicorn said, inclining her head towards the tall office buildings at the center of the city.

I followed her gesture and looked up at the skyline as something caught my eye. One large black building towered above the others at about twice the height of its next tallest cousin. It stuck out like a sore hoof amidst its shorter brethren. From what I could see, the only way to that building—and the city center, by the looks of it—was by way of a partially-collapsed highway overpass. One end of the elevated structure was sloped downwards, its paved surface curved in a gentle arc not unlike a hillside.

“But why Buck’s Town?” I asked as Greaser resumed walking.

“As I understand it the town was renamed after a griffon bloke named Buck… Somethingorother. I can’t be arsed to remember his whole name. If you ask me, griffons name themselves rather oddly.

“Anyway,” Greaser continued, “Place was a little backwater town before this Buck fellow shows up. Wealthy entrepreneur, I’ve heard. He brought with him business and industry and the little town started expanding. Once the war was in full swing the place exploded in size. Apparently this Buck griffon made quite a lot of money through war profiteering and used it to build himself a nice tower right smack-dab in the middle of the city. Past that, well… you know how things went.”

I was so caught up listening to Greaser’s crash course of the city’s history that I hadn’t noticed us moving away from the highway. When Greaser kept walking forward into the ruined city, my unease started to grow. She appeared to be headed towards a dark tunnel sandwiched between buildings on either side. Upon the hill over the tunnel  were even more buildings and the only way past it that I could see was either straight through or over the top. I wasn’t keen to travel through another dark enclosed space and I certainly didn’t feel up to flying just yet, so I bounded ahead of Greaser and blocked her path.

“Whoa, where… where are we going?” I asked, trying my best to mask the worry in my voice.

“Into town,” Greaser said, nickering as she stopped short. “You make a better door than an archway y’know,” the unicorn snarked as she stepped around me.

“Wait a minute!” I insisted, again blocking Greaser’s passage. “Do we have to go through that tunnel? Why can’t we take the highway overpass? It looks like it heads right into the middle of the city!”

“It does,” Greaser huffed, “But we can’t go that way.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have a bloody trading permit, that’s why,” Greaser snapped, pushing roughly past me. “It’s the safest way in and out of the city. Multiple checkpoints along the way and at either end searching for trader permits and contraband. Freeway’s for merchants only, you see,” Greaser explained. “The permit for passage costs a heap of money. The kind of money only merchants tend to have.”

Checkpoints? Trading permits? And had she said contraband? I found myself following along behind Greaser as she continued on, too curious to care about the tunnel’s mouth looming closer. “I thought everything was just a disorganized rabble down here? You mean to tell me you’ve actually managed to establish some sort of rudimentary order?”

“Obsidian runs their ship tight as,” Greaser said matter-of-factly. “Sale of chems is prohibited within city limits. Slavery is also cracked down on pretty hard. It’s no Canterlot, but they try fairly bloody hard to keep things as close to ponies’ picturesque ideals of civilization as possible.”

Well color me impressed. I thought the surface ponies had been beyond hope given everything I’d witnessed over the years. The fact that there was something even remotely resembling law was enough to make my head spin.

I didn’t notice Greaser slowing down until she’d just about stopped and I nearly tripped over her. We’d paused at the mouth of the tunnel, and the reason for it became clear at a glance. From within hastily erected shacks on either side of the road came a small group of ponies. They didn’t look very friendly. The group was outfitted in a vast assortment of leathers and mismatching armor plates that looked like they’d been pulled out of a scrap bin and hastily welded together. Each and every one of them had filthy coats, disheveled manes and tails and the powerful stench emanating from them was enough to turn my stomach. That smell reminded me of one thing, and vividly—Garrote.

Raiders.

“Bloody hell, it’s the Boopers,” Greaser hissed under her breath. “Oi, Stringbean. Keep your mouth off your bloody knife, yeah? Let me handle this. You’re liable to cock it up and that’s us right buggered.”

“I have to keep my mouth off my knife because you won’t let me have it back!” I snapped. “I can’t even defend myself! This is some bullshit!”

My protests were silenced by a swat from Greaser’s tail. “Just shut your gob and let me do the talking,” Greaser muttered. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with Caltrop’s little band.”

Before I could ask who Caltrop was, the small group parted and a pony stepped forward. She was filthy like the rest of them, her coat caked in layers of grime and blood. The muddy brown mare wore a tattered old studded leather jacket, and belts of various shapes and sizes were wrapped around her with no discernable pattern. I got the feeling that they were more for looks than anything else, though I didn’t quite understand the purpose of the aesthetic.

As she stepped closer, she pursed her lips and blew a large pink bubble that popped with an audible crack. “Heya Lady,” the mare said in a squeaky rasp. “You was alone when ya left today. Who’s this clown?”

“G’day, Caltrop. This is… a friend of mine,” Greaser said while I scowled at the diminutive raider. “I don’t want any trouble, mate.”

“No trouble?” Caltrop said, raising her eyebrows. “You an’ me? We’re fine. Now yer little fuckin’ friend here… if ya don’t tell him t’ stop starin’ at me I’m gonna gouge his motherfuckin’ eyes out.” She turned to glare in my direction. “Ya hear me, Stretch? Ya better look somewheres else before I knock all yer teeth out.”

“I’d like to see you try it, you little shit,” I snarled before I could stop myself.

“Mach, shut up,” Greaser snapped as she elbowed me in the ribs.

“’The fuck you jus’ say t’ me?” Caltrop said as she spat out her gum. A few of the ponies in the group beside her nickered and scraped at the ground with their hooves. The youth tossed the unruly bangs of her vanilla-white mohawk out of her face and fixed me with a glare. “Go ahead an’ say it again. I dare ya.”

“You heard me the first time,” I said, stepping past Greaser towards the raider mare. I’d had enough of raider bullshit with Curb Stomp and Garrote. I wasn’t going to put up with Caltrop’s either. “You think I’m afraid of some upstart little shit and her gang? What the hell kind of name is ‘Boopers’ anyway?” Everypony around me reacted at once. Caltrop’s gang bristled and Greaser gave me a sidelong glance and a pained grimace. “A-Anyway,” I continued, “I’m an Enclave soldier. I’ve got years of training and combat experience, and I can fly. What’s the worst a group of street thugs can do to a pony that can fly?”

To prove my point, I lifted off to hover just over everypony and out of hoof’s reach. My chest hurt like hell doing it, but none of Caltrop’s gang had guns and at least I was out of melee range.

“Don’t underestimate a pegasus, dirt-muncher,” I sneered, looking down my nose at Caltrop.

To my immense surprise, Caltrop reached for some sort of rudimentary spear slung across her back. The raider mare took it up in both forelegs as she reared up, doubling her height and bringing her that much closer to where I hovered in midair. Caltrop’s hooves blurred and I howled in pain as the wooden haft of her spear cracked into my wing.

I dropped out of the air and fell flat on my back to the hard pavement below. As I laid there groaning, Caltrop walked over to stand by me. The rest of her gang followed behind her and my stomach did backflips as they entered my peripheral vision one by one.

“Don’t sell earth ponies short, asshole,” Caltrop spat, looking down her nose at me. “Oh an’ one more thing, ya brainless fuck—” Before I could ask what it was, Caltrop hooked her forehoof at my face as hard as she could. A moment later I was blinking tears out of my eyes and cussing up a storm while I cradled what I was pretty sure was a broken nose.

Caltrop bent down, putting her face so close to my own that I could smell her rancid breath. Her pink eyes narrowed as she glared at me, unblinking. Only when I met her gaze did she finish her sentence by uttering a single word.

“—Boop.”

“Right then.” Greaser said, and I felt myself being dragged unceremoniously along the ground away from the raider. “You’ve had your fun, Caltrop. You lot beat it before someone from Obsidian catches you. You know there’s no raiding parties allowed within city limits.”

“I told ya Lady, we ain’t raiders,” Caltrop said with a sly grin. “We’s jus’ tryin’ t’ survive out there like the rest ‘a ya. Can’t afford t’ be choosy ‘bout our targets. Ain’t no fault ‘a mine if some of ‘em can’t defend themselves. Mark’s a mark! We gots t’ put food on the table somehow.”

“That’s the bloody definition of raiding!” Greaser shrieked. “If you want food and shelter, either scavenge like the rest of us or get a job!”

“Eh, tomato/potato,” Caltrop said with a shrug and a dismissive wave of her hoof.

“To-mah-to,” Greaser corrected, her ears twitching in annoyance.

“Whatever. Look, I’m gonna be honest wit’ ya, Lady,” Caltrop said as she popped a little pink sphere into her mouth and turned her back as she started to chew. “The only reason we ain’t laid a hoof on ya is ‘cause yer in tight wit’ Obsidian. If you wasn’t on such good terms wit’ them…” Caltrop paused to turn her head slightly, so that only one eye was visible. “I prolly woulda took yer shit an’ left ya fer dead ages ago.

“Anyway… toodles,” Caltrop said as she walked away and her group followed. “Have fun in the tunnel.”

“Argh, sud ubba bitch,” I growled as the sound of hoofsteps faded into the distance. “I dink she broke by dose.”

“C’mere, you big baby,” Greaser sighed. “Give us a look.” She turned my head this way and that, pressing gingerly on my muzzle and eliciting a sharp hiss of pain from me. “You’re fine. Just a little bloodied. It’s going to be tender for a spell, that’s for sure.”

“I taste blood,” I protested as Greaser helped me to my hooves.

“Well there’s a lot of it,” Greaser said, floating over a grimy rag to wipe my nose. I got a powerful whiff of grease and machine oil that lingered even after Greaser stowed the rag in a pocket on her overalls. “She socked you pretty good. Bloody well told you to let me handle it, didn’t I? If you’re not going to listen to ponies that know better than you I can fairly guarantee a lot more mishaps like this in your future.”

“You could’ve helped me,” I snapped as Greaser began walking into the gaping maw of the tunnel entrance. I eyed the weapon she produced with her magic warily. It was rather large and looked more like an industrial tool than a gun. “You just stood there and let her kick the shit out of me.”

“You were asking for it,” Greaser snorted. “You shot your mouth off when I told you to keep quiet and let me handle things. If I were anypony else, we’d both probably be dead right now. Caltrop’s young. She’s got a lot to prove and she can’t afford to show weakness in front of her mates. Her lot know that if she comes down on me, they’ll all have a bad bloody time of it. She’d be right foolish to try anything.”

“What makes you so special?”

“It’s not me, it’s who I know,” Greaser replied. “Connections are power, mate. The more people you know in the Wasteland, the better off you are. I just so happen to be very close with Obsidian—they’re the group that runs things ‘round here. Mercenaries, but their leader is very fair. That’s who we’re on our way to see, actually.”

The gears in my head started turning. This could be my ticket to a steady job. Being a soldier of fortune wasn’t exactly glamorous, but the military life was all I knew. It wasn’t like I could just start up a trading company. I had no idea how to handle the logistics of such an operation. If I could put my talents as a soldier to use for money, I could certainly afford to put a roof over my head and keep myself from starving. I’d just have to figure out the best way to broach the subject.

“What do you think Caltrop meant by ‘have fun in the tunnel?’” I asked, squinting into the darkness.

“Dunno,” Greaser said as she paused to pinch her eyes shut tight. As I watched curiously, the tip of her horn began to glow brightly. A small orb of pale orange light coalesced just above her horn’s tip, casting a wan glow in a large radius around us. “I’ve been out of town for a couple days. The tunnel’s usually clear, but anything could’ve happened since I left the other day.”

“You mean it’s not guarded?” I asked as Greaser continued forward and I followed. “You said the highway overpass had checkpoints but there’s nopony posted to this tunnel?”

“Waste of personnel,” Greaser said. “Posting guards to the tunnel just draws resources away from where they can be better put to use. The inner city itself is patrolled regularly, so even if somepony up to no good were to get through the tunnel they’d still have to make it past one of the town guards.”

A short period of silence passed before I spoke up again to ask a question that had been bothering me.

“Why did Caltrop’s gang flip out when I called them the Boopers? That’s what you called them, isn’t it?”

“About that,” Greaser said, deliberately avoiding eye contact with me. “They’re not really called the Boopers. Officially. That’s just… sort of what we call them. Y’see, Caltrop’s known for leaving ponies she doesn’t kill with bloodied and broken noses. It’s sort of her calling card. Hence… Boopers. It’s a nickname. They don’t much care for it, as you saw.”

I growled incoherently to voice my displeasure. “So what do they call themselves then?”

“The Kneecappers or summat, I dunno,” Greaser shrugged. “Don’t really care, to be honest.”

We fell silent again, the only sound our hooves echoing in the cavernous depths of the tunnel. A concrete barrier divided the tunnel into two lanes, halving the amount of space we had to meander around the debris within. Old rusted-out hulks of abandoned autowagons littered the tunnel, their owners likely having fled once the bombs started falling and traffic became gridlock. Here and there a portion of the ceiling had collapsed, spilling dirt and concrete into the tunnel like a leaky pipe.

Cold gripped my chest and I had difficulty drawing breath. Oh stars, was the tunnel safe? My head whipped around to focus on the nearest hole. I could’ve sworn fresh chunks of concrete and gravel were tumbling down the pile. My eyes snapped over to a support beam to seek reassurance. Was it bending? What was the maximum weight rating for rusted support structures? Two centuries had passed without any maintenance! It looked like it was about to give out!

A strong bout of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled around like a drunken oaf while I fought to keep my balance. I was dimly aware of Greaser asking me if I was all right, her words nothing but garbled noise in my ringing ears. I was so preoccupied with trying not to slam my face into a nearby pair of autowagons that I didn’t hear Greaser’s shout until it was too late.

“Stop, mate! Watch out!”

Something snagged one of my forehooves and I tripped anyway. I flailed and flapped to try and prevent the fall, but I was already too messed up by vertigo to coordinate myself. A second later my claustrophobia was all but forgotten and I yelled in surprise when the tunnel lit up like a Summer Sun Celebration.

Electric jolts of adrenaline coursed through me when I heard what sounded like a heavy machine gun opening fire. Bullets whizzed by just overhead, and I pressed myself as flat to the ground as possible. Everything but survival had been pushed to the back of my mind, and I wormed forward bit by bit to the safety of the nearest cover—the wrecked autowagons. Greaser had already beaten me there, and the mare glared reproachfully down at me as I hunkered up beside her.

“Told you to watch out, didn’t I? Bloody hell!” She yelled over the gunfire. “Is stumbling around like you’re sloshed your idea of a joke? What’s the matter with you?”

“Can we save that for later?” I yelled back. “How many?”

“None!” Greaser shouted as the gunfire fell silent. She rolled her eyes as her voice echoed in the tunnel—now devoid of flying lead—before lowering her volume. “None. It was a booby trap, you featherbrained arsehole.”

“A booby trap?” I pushed myself up to my hooves and followed as Greaser trotted over to the gap between the autowagons. When I drew up alongside her, I followed her hoof down to where a snapped tripwire laid loosely on the ground. “Oh, son of a bitch. Is this what Caltrop meant by ‘have fun in the tunnel?’ Do you think she set this up?”

“Doubt it,” Greaser said as she looked over what appeared to be a rather complex rig. “This looks a little beyond her capabilities. I might be able to use some of this. Give me a sec, mate. I want to look it over before we go.” Greaser stuck her tongue out in concentration, and I felt the hairs at the back of my neck prickle at the sudden stirring of magical energy. “Let’s see… let’s see, let’s see what makes you tick, little guy.”

As I looked on, a strange magical projection shot out of Greaser’s horn, forming a sort of lattice of pale orange light that splashed over the machine gun booby trap. A second later, a brighter beam of magic swept over the lattice in a sort of slow scanning motion. Greaser’s eyes glazed over and as the beam crept along the lattice, they began moving side to side as if she were reading something. Greaser began muttering in an excited manner and I strained my hearing to understand what she was saying. It sounded almost like she was rattling off items on a shopping list.

“Belt-fed machine gun—intermediate cartridge. General purpose, I’d wager. Reckon I might be able to make use of it if it’s in good condition. Over here we have… a magical actuator rigged to the trigger, powered by a spark battery. Actuator could be useful, but the battery has a weak charge—worthless. Whole rig is held together with brackets made of scrap metal and… wood screws!? Bah! Rubbish.” I looked on puzzled when Greaser’s face lit up like a decorated Hearth’s Warming tree. “Maaad!” the unicorn exclaimed, her hooves pattering as she jogged in place. “It’s mounted to a tripod! Bloody hell, I’ve been looking for one of these for ages! Here, hold this!”

I flailed my hooves and managed to snag the machine gun as she ripped it off the tripod with her telekinesis and tossed it at me. All the little bits that had been attached to it went flying every which way as Greaser tore them off and discarded them like trash. Once she’d gotten the tripod completely free of any impromptu additions, she collapsed it and settled it across her back, securing it with some sort of hooked elastic cord.

“So what, you’re just gonna let me have a gun now?” I asked as Greaser searched the booby trap for anything else of value. I watched a nut and bolt or two slip into one of her saddlebags as I waited for a response.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not loaded.” Greaser snorted. “The only way you could hurt me with that thing would be if you were to swing it and I’m not too worried about that. No offense mate, but you don’t look like you could beat your way out of a wet paper bag.”

“I resent that,” I muttered, narrowing my gaze at her.

Greaser paid me no mind. She was apparently lost in her own little world and pranced off ahead of me with a noticeable skip in her trot. I hastened to catch up, fastening the empty machine gun to the free weapon mount on my battle saddle opposite the coilgun. I didn’t bother linking the trigger to the bit as I was pretty sure Greaser would want it back, whether it was for parts or to barter with.

“Hey,” I said as I caught up to her, “What was that thing you did back there?”

“Eh?”

“With your magic,” I explained. “That spell you used, what was that?”

“Oh!” Greaser said as sudden realization dawned on her. “I’m not used to ponies taking an interest. That was a diagnostic spell. It’s heaps useful out here in the wastes. More valuable than gold for a tinkerer like me.”

“It’s a what, now?”

“A diagnostic spell,” Greaser repeated. “I learned it from an old manual on autowagon repair I found a long time ago. It’s supposed to help a mechanic pinpoint malfunctioning or broken parts to make repairs easier, but I don’t use it for that.”

“Wait, what?” I said, confused. “Why not? How many other applications could there possibly be for a spell like that?”

“At least two that I can think of,” Greaser said. “I can use my magic to feel out complicated gadgets and devices. It allows me to easily locate useful parts. On top of that, it gives me a greater understanding of how things are put together, like a sort of reverse-blueprinting spell. It’s really made scavenging and building things heaps easier. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

A sudden idea bubbled to the surface, jarred loose by my unexpected discovery of Greaser’s mechanical aptitude. Maybe I could convince her to take a look at the coilgun and find out what the hell was wrong with it... That stupid piece of garbage hadn’t worked right since the first time I used it. Hell, it had gremlins when Doc had first showed it to me. Stars-damned thing was more trouble than it was worth and as far as I could see the Enclave was wasting time sending recovery teams to come and pry it off of my dead corpse.

“Oi, mate. Yoo-hoo, Equestria to Mach. Pay attention, Stringbean.”

“Huh? What?” I shook my head and looked over in Greaser’s direction.

“I asked you what your problem was earlier,” Greaser said. Apparently for the second time. “Y’know, when you were stumbling around like you’d had a pint too many?”

“Oh. Uh.” Now that my attention had been drawn back to the fact that we were standing in a tunnel, the world lurched abruptly. I shut my eyes tight and took a few deep breaths until the queasiness in my stomach settled, then took off at a brisk trot. “Can we talk about it while we’re walking? Preferably fast and towards out, please. I’m claustrophobic. I don’t like being underground.”

“What, this here?” Greaser said, looking up at the ceiling above as she trotted after me. “A tunnel? This is hardly what I would call underground, mate. Maybe the metro or the tunnel that goes under the eastern river, but not this one. I think this just cuts through a small hill.”

“I can’t help it, all right?” I snapped. “I just need to get out of here before I have a panic attack.”

We ran the rest of the tunnel’s length without incident, though I had to stop to clutch a stitch in my side once we emerged into daylight. Relief washed over me for reasons several. Not only was I glad to be out of that stars-damned tunnel, but I was doubly glad that Greaser had extended the offer to take me to someone who could look my injuries over. If it hadn’t been clear when I was inches from death, it was certainly clear now that those Steel Rangers had messed me up really badly. The sooner someone who knew what they were doing could examine me, the better.

After checking to make sure I was all right, Greaser gestured towards the end of the street with a tip of her head. I took her cue, nodding in understanding and falling into step behind her as she again took the lead.

Around us, the buildings had gotten taller and much less spaced out as we got closer to the city’s center. Many had collapsed in the centuries following the war, partially if not completely. Some ways were blocked entirely by the rubble of the fallen structures, forcing us to seek alternate routes. Although, I supposed that since Greaser knew exactly where she was going, they weren’t exactly detours.

Walking the streets of Buckston reminded me a lot of the metropolis of Cyclonus above the clouds. A strange phenomenon, it was a sprawling urban cityscape built around the eye of a hurricane. It was the very same hurricane from which the city had taken its name. Cyclonus—the Eternal Storm. A lot of bad memories surfaced as I recalled the few visits I’d made to the city. Memories I’d have rather left buried and forgotten.

“There it is,” Greaser said, dragging me back to reality. “That’s Sanctuary.”

I followed her pointing hoof over to a large gate set up between two buildings. I couldn’t see much beyond the gate, due in no small part to the tight ring of buildings completely enclosing the center of the city. That large black building I’d spotted earlier loomed over everything in the area. It stood so tall I had to tip my head back to fit it entirely within my field of view. I found my eye drawn naturally to it and due to my perspective it looked like it was poised to slice up through the skies and pierce the cloud cover.

“Hey!” Somepony bellowed from behind me, and I whirled to see a stallion pulling a caravan wagon. He’d stopped and was glaring at me impatiently. “If you’re done gawking, do you think you can get out of the way? I’ve got shit to do and time’s a-wasting.”

I grumbled an apology and stepped aside to let him pass. I scrunched my muzzle when I saw a train of wagons behind the first stallion’s, all making their way to the gates into Sanctuary.

“I thought traders had a different way into the city?” I asked as I turned to face Greaser. “That overpass I wanted to use?”

“They do, but the freeway offramp merges onto the street back towards the way we came," Greaser explained. "The traders have the luxury of bypassing all the side streets we had to take to get here from the tunnel. It’s pretty much a straight shot from the offramp to Sanctuary’s gates. I reckon it’s a bit of a fair trade for having to deal with all the checkpoints along the way.”

We fell into step behind the next caravan to pass us by, following it all the way to the entrance. There were one or two more ahead of us, and a pony in jet-black combat armor was stopping and checking for the trader permits Greaser had mentioned. As we drew closer, I caught a snippet of the conversation between the trader ahead of us and the pony posted to security detail.

“Hold up there,” the guard said to the trader. At a wave of his hoof, another pony went to peer inside the fabric covering his wagon. “Permit?” The unicorn trader floated out a little piece of paper for the guard to see. “Thanks. So where ya comin’ in from?”

“We did some good business in Manehattan before heading on over here,” the wandering merchant said. “Might try our luck over on Route 52 next.”

“And what is the nature of your stay here in Sanctuary today, sir?” the guard asked. “How long are you planning on being with us?”

“We’re just looking to see if we can do a little more business before we head out again,” the trader answered. “We’ll be here two, maybe three days, I think.”

“They’re clear,” the second guard said, stepping out of the wagon and returning to his post.

“Right this way, sir,” the first guard said, waving the trader forward. “Welcome to Sanctuary. Please take note that safety is our number one concern in Sanctuary. Discharge of a firearm, sale or purchase of chems and any slaving activity are all strictly prohibited. All security will be handled directly by Obsidian personnel, our local firm. If you notice any suspicious persons or ponies do not hesitate to flag down a patrol to report them. As a visitor, we ask that you please keep these things in mind for the duration of your stay.”

“Uh… okay,” the trader said with an awkward scratch of his mane. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Merchant lodging is on the outer perimeter of Sanctuary’s central trading area,” the guard called after the trader as he moved past the gates. “If you cannot procure free space, accommodations will be made at that time. Enjoy your stay here. Next!” Finished, the guard turned to face us. His expression was stern and businesslike, but softened when he spotted Greaser by my side. “Oh. Hey Greaser. I see you’re finally back from scavenging.”

“Yeah, mate,” Greaser said, grinning as she gestured at the tripod on her back. “It was mostly rubbish but I had a bit of an unexpected windfall on the way back. Found some good bits I can put to use right quick. Hey, do you know if Kiya has gotten another shipment of rivets in yet?”

“I think so. She said to ask you to stop by the next time I saw you.”

“Mad,” Greaser said. “If you see her again, tell her to put them aside. I’ll take the whole lot of them.”

“Will do. Who’s your friend?”

“Bloke I ran into while I was plundering an autowagon repair shop,” Greaser explained as she made her way past him. I followed, uneasy and expecting to be stopped. “He’s all right, Checkpoint. He’s with me. We’re on our way to have him looked at. He was a bit bloodied when we met.”

“All righty. Let me know how that turns out,” Checkpoint said with a smile that made my stomach do backflips.

Regardless, I followed Greaser into the settlement that was known as Sanctuary. So this was it. My ultimate destination that I’d been traveling towards since Gawd had turned me loose days ago. She’d promised that it was a good place to find work and I couldn’t help but agree as I took a look around.

I tried to take it all in as I followed behind Greaser, but there was too much to look at all at once. Sanctuary’s center was taken up by a small park encircled by a roundabout. On the outermost sidewalk, traders had set up their wagons and stands to peddle their wares. Trader wagons and caravans rolled around the roundabout as they came and went from the city, and ponies and non-ponies alike bustled through the busy town.

This place was practically a metropolis compared to that crappy little shanty New Appleloosa!

A piercing screech cut through the din of activity in Sanctuary, causing me and a few others to jump in surprise. It wasn’t a good sound. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I felt the adrenaline start pumping once more. I didn’t have to wait long to find out what had made the noise. She arrived with a beat of massive wings and was screaming in a language I only barely understood thanks to classes I’d taken in school. Classes I’d taken nearly a decade ago.

"He, du da!” the griffoness bellowed, and I recoiled as she swung the barrel of a sub machine gun around to target me while she hovered in place. "Die Enklave hat hier nichts verloren!"

“Oh fuck me, not again!” I yelped, casting into the depths of my memory to try and remember enough to keep myself from getting shot by another angry griffon. “B-Bitte, nicht das schiessen! Ich bin der freund!”

The griffoness squinted at me warily. “...Was?”

Damn it! She hadn’t understood me! “Stars-damned high school language classes!” I growled.

“Mach—” Greaser began.

“Not now!” I snapped. Couldn’t she see I was trying to avoid getting shot? I had to figure out how to tell her I wasn’t an Enclave pegasus. I wracked my brain a little more and tried getting my message across again. “Nicht innerhalb der Enklave!” I insisted. That sounded kind of right.

I hoped.

“Sag’ mal, verstehst du überhaupt was ich dir die ganze Zeit sage?” the griffoness said, speaking slow and clear. It was at this point that she lowered her gun, perhaps not convinced I was a threat, but not entirely sure I was harmless either.

“Some,” I replied. It was somewhat true, anyway. I could understand her for the most part, but I couldn’t remember enough words to respond fluently. "Ich bin… uh…” I thought for a moment and what I thought was a suitable word came to me at last. “Merk... würdig? Ah! Ich bin merkwürdig!”

“Tatsache,” The griffoness snorted. She covered her beak as she snickered at my response before firing off a retort. "Da hast du wohl Recht."

Showoff. She was practically talking circles around me.

“If you’re done making a complete arse out of yourself,” Greaser sighed, stepping past me and giving me a sidelong glance, “Tess, you’ve done it again.”

“Eh?” Tess chirped.

“You’ve started bellowing Griffon at yet another pony,” Greaser explained. “I should bloody well say you lost this bloke at word one and judging by your giggling, you’re just having a laugh now.”

“Ja,” Tess replied, her golden eyes shining mischievously. “Apologies, Mausi.”

Greaser rolled her eyes and gestured to the hovering griffoness. “Mach, this is Tess Shadowclaw. She works for Obsidian so you’ll probably be seeing a lot of her if you stick around.”

“Moin,” Tess said, casually waving a claw.

It was then that I noticed that Tess was actually fairly attractive… for a griffon. Wiry and lithe, she had a gorgeous coat and plumage that was a mixture of snowy white, blacks and greys. I almost hadn’t noticed the light combat armor she’d been wearing due to how well it blended in with her tuft of ebony chest feathers. I wondered vaguely what she smelled like and a sudden urge to stroke her back and scratch under her cute little beak overcame me. Utter revulsion and disgust with myself followed an instant later.

Wait, what? What? What was I thinking, she was a griffon!

“You speak Equestrian,” I blurted, slack-jawed and feeling my face start to flush. Thank the stars my coat was red.

“Eh, I speak little,” Tess said in heavily-accented Equestrian, holding a pair of talons about a centimeter apart. “Enough to get by. I am more used to scouting than talking with ponies, but Krieg… he insists on assigning me to patrol duty. So where is it you are off to, Storch?”

“I’m taking him to see Krieg, actually,” Greaser answered before I could open my mouth. “He landed himself in a bit of a spot before he ran into me. Showed up half dead, so I’ve convinced him to have himself looked over before he gets back to whatever it was he was doing.”

“Looking for work,” I said. “I came out this way to find work. I need to find a way to support myself out here since… well, since I don’t have a home anymore.”

“I should bloody well say you’ll find no dearth of work ‘round here, mate,” Greaser said. “There’s always heaps to be done for Obsidian. We can ask Krieg once we’ve got your injuries sorted. I’m sure he can drum up something for you to do.”

“That works for me,” I said as Greaser led me toward the massive black building looming over Sanctuary. Tess followed along, which immediately put me on edge. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”

“Will this be a problem for you?”

“Uh… well you were going to shoot me just now,” I said, annoyed that she couldn’t see why I was wary of her. “I’ll level with you right now—I don’t like your kind. I’ve had nothing but bad experiences where griffons are concerned. I—Oof!”

Greaser cut me off with a sharp jab to the ribs. I wheezed and clutched at my side, biting my lip to keep from yelping at the sudden jolt of pain. I must’ve looked quite the sight, as Tess cocked her head so far to the side it was nearly inverted. I tried to ignore the eyes on me by focusing on the little bobbing plume of feathers on Tess’s head that had been tied up with an elastic. Satisfied that she’d gotten her message across, Greaser continued onward.

“This is the Spire,” Greaser explained as we walked through a revolving door on the building’s concourse. “Obsidian’s main base of operations as well as the most important building here in Sanctuary.”

I took a look around as Greaser gave me the audio tour. Ponies and griffons wearing the same black combat armor as Tess bustled to and fro. So too did ponies and griffons in the garb of ordinary wastelanders, traders and scavengers. There was a near-constant flood of hoof traffic coming and going from a group of elevators at the very back of the lobby. I also noticed that most of those with injuries minor or major tended to make their way toward a particular set of elevator doors that were larger than the rest. A freight elevator, I guessed.

“It used to be a hotel and it still functions as such,” Greaser continued. “Permanent residents of Sanctuary all have rooms here in the Spire. The upper floors are reserved for Obsidian personnel and the very top floor is Krieg Razorbeak’s office. He runs things ‘round here. Down below is the clinic. Obsidian was able to procure enough medical equipment from nearby facilities to convert one of the basement levels into a hospital. It’s the best place for medical care for miles.”

“Holy shit, you guys are doing all right for yourselves,” I said with a low whistle. “You wouldn’t believe how many settlements I’ve seen from the skies that barely had two sticks to rub together.”

“This is Krieg’s legacy,” Greaser explained as she pressed the call button for the elevator. “He’s put years of his life into turning this city around, and it’s a job bloody well done. We’ve got very few problems with raiders and slavers, and Sanctuary has become quite the trader’s hub. We even get merchant ships coming into port from up and down Equestria’s coast.”

I mulled it all over while we stepped into the elevator and Greaser hit the button for the top floor. Stars above, Polaris had surely led me true. If everything was as Greaser had said, I couldn’t have possibly found a better place to settle down and make a living. Sanctuary was a safe haven and there was everything I could ever need to survive here. All I needed now was a job to afford the necessities. Maybe this Razorbeak could help me out with a little facilitation from Greaser and Tess. Stars knew I had a bad track record dealing with griffons.

When the elevator stopped and the doors parted, I saw what was quite possibly the biggest griffon I’d ever seen in my life sitting behind a desk. As we made our way out of the elevator and into the room he looked up from his work, the large grey crest of feathers atop his head bobbing at the sudden motion. There was warmth in his eyes and his jagged black beak quirked up in a smile when he saw Greaser and Tess. That all changed the second his eyes locked onto me.

“Krieg, no!” Greaser shouted.

His beak parted as he stood and a terrible sound rattled the windows. A horrifying cacophony of eagle screech and lion’s roar erupted forth. He exploded out of his chair and flew across his desk with surprising speed, moving far too quickly for a creature of his size. I stood rooted to the spot as he surged toward me, too terrified to move a muscle.

Massive talons closed around my throat a moment later, picking me up and slamming me into the wall. I gasped for air when his claw started to constrict, reaching my forehooves up to try and pry him off. This was evidently the wrong thing to do, as he smashed my head into the wall over and over until my hooves dropped limply to my sides.

“You fuck!” The griffon bellowed into my face. “You come into my city? You come into my building? You come into my fucking office? I told you Enclave bastards you’re not welcome in my city! I’m gonna wring your scrawny little neck until your head pops off, do you understand me?”

“Don’t… I don’t…” I gasped, but I couldn’t get enough air to speak.

“That’s right, you shit,” the griffon snarled. “Choke. You and your pals have caused me no end of trouble and I’m fucking sick of it. I warned you. I warned you not to set foot inside this city and now you’re going to pay for it.”

“Krieg!” Greaser shouted again. “Krieg, put him down!”

“Stay out of this, Greaser,” Krieg growled. “I’ve had it. It’s time to make an example.”

“Krieg, you’ve got him all wrong! He’s not with the Enclave!”

“Bullshit,” Krieg spat. “I know an Enclave soldier when I see one. See this logo?” Krieg pinched the Grand Pegasus Enclave patch between two talons and tore it off of my jacket with a flick of his wrist. “That’s the symbol of the Enclave.”

“Would you just listen to me for one bloody second?” Greaser snapped before turning to Tess, her gaze pleading. “Tess, help me! Talk some sense into him before the poor bastard suffocates!”

“Krieg, Liebchen, please listen to the little one, ja?” Tess said, resting a claw gently on the arm keeping me pinned to the wall. “What do you lose by hearing her out? It is not as if the pegasus could escape. There are three of us and only one of him.”

Little stars were starting to dance in my eyes and my chest was convulsing as it made a desperate attempt to draw oxygen. When the claw released me I flopped to the floor coughing, spluttering and gasping in lungful after lungful of air. I thanked the stars above that the griffon had seen reason but didn’t push my luck. Instead I remained on the floor while I got my breathing under control.

“Dashite, huh?” I flinched when the same claw that had tried to choke the life out of me locked around my leg like a vise. “Tch. That doesn’t change much. Once Enclave, always Enclave. Get him out of my sight.”

“But Krieg—” Greaser protested.

“Now, Grease Gun,” Krieg said, his tone stern. 

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Greaser said, her voice deathly quiet. I saw a lot of myself in her then. Anger and rebellion. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Then get this waste of space out of my office before I really lose my temper and throw him through a window,” Krieg said. “I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong and he needs help!” Greaser protested. “The whole reason I brought him up here was to talk to you! I figured you’d let me explain, but you went and blew your bloody top before anypony could say a word! Krieg, he’s been cast out of the Enclave. He has nowhere to go and he was half dead when I found him. The least you can do is help him out, especially after you damn near killed him.”

“I’ll think about it,” Krieg relented. “Come back tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I said I’d think about it!” Krieg shouted, his words underscored with a lion’s roar. “Tess, get these two out of here before I have a damn stroke!”

"Auf geht's, meine kleinen Pferdchen. Come, come," Tess said, helping me to my hooves and ushering us towards the elevator. “It is not wise to try our luck. Bitte, come back tomorrow. He will have cooled down some by then. I hope.”

As we piled into the elevator, I turned to face the closing doors. I caught a glimpse of the behemoth of a griffon just before the doors slid shut. I saw nothing but contempt in his eyes when they met mine. He was glaring at me with such utter hatred that it chilled me to the bone. What was this guy’s grudge with Enclave ponies? Why did he think we—they—were or had been in his city?

I held a hoof to my temple and groaned my frustration. This was getting way too complicated way too fast. Combined with what I’d heard talking to the Wind Twins and Steel Rangers, things just weren’t making any kind of sense. My brain was tangling itself into a knot trying to figure it all out. I needed sleep. And food.

“Can we be even now?” I sighed, breaking the awkward silence as we stood in the elevator. “I think at this point we can call it even.”

“I’m sorry,” Greaser said, her ears pinned back. She wouldn’t look at me and kept flicking her tail and scratching at a foreleg. Tess was looking like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t there. “I didn’t… I thought he would be fine if the two of us were there with you.”

“Yeah, well... He wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry!” Greaser said, turning so that she was facing me straight on. “I really am, I swear to you. You've got nowhere to stay at the moment, yeah?” I shook my head. “I didn’t think so. Look, why don’t you spend the night at my place? It’s right here in the Spire so you know it’s safe, you won’t have to spend a cap, I’ve got food—I think—and I’ll come with you tomorrow to see Krieg again.”

“No! No, I am not going anywhere near that monster,” I said, my voice trembling. “Did you see how big he was? My head must have come up to his shoulder and he got his claw all the way around my neck! All the way!”

“If I may interrupt, Storch?” Tess said from behind me. I turned to give her my attention. “I will talk to Krieg before you are to meet again. He is stubborn, but my word carries weight with him. You do not have to fear for your safety next time. This I swear.”

“See? Everything will be fine. So what do you say?” Greaser said, her expression brimming full of hope.

I really didn’t want to go back into that murder machine’s office. Greaser was offering me free room and board though. Greaser’s smile widened when my stomach roared its own approval of her offer. It couldn’t hurt, I guess. I could always spend the night and then change my mind in the morning if I wasn’t feeling up to it.

“Yeah, all right,” I sighed. “I’ll come crash at your place.”

“Good on ya, mate!” Greaser said, clapping me on the back. “I uh… Well I’ve not had time to clean, so the place is in a bit of a right state. Bloody hell, we’ve been standing around in this elevator the whole time and nopony’s pushed a button.”

Greaser reached over to the panel and hit a button for a few floors down. That put her room near the top. Hadn’t she said the upper levels were for Obsidian personnel?

When the elevator stopped on Greaser’s floor, the two of us said our goodbyes to Tess and set out for her place. The Spire was pretty ritzy, all things considered. I could feel plush carpet beneath my hooves and the lights were functional, so they had to have working generators rigged up somewhere. I saw room service carts and was considerably impressed until we got closer and I saw them caked in layers of dust. Ah well, I could survive without the pampering as long as I got food.

“Well, here we are,” Greaser said as we stopped in front of a door. Her horn lit up and floated a key into the lock before pushing the door wide. “Home, sweet home.”

“Sweet Cygnus.” 

Mess didn’t even begin to describe it. I heard debris being pushed aside as she opened the door. When Greaser flicked a light on I was greeted by what could only be described as a disaster zone. An innumerable amount of devices in varying states of assembly were strewn over every square inch of Greaser’s home. Scrap metal, spare parts. Nuts and bolts covered every last bit of floor that wasn’t otherwise occupied by appliances, recovered weapons and detritus.

Impromptu junkyard aside, Greaser’s place was spartanly furnished. Her door “opened” into a living room with a small kitchenette equipped with naught but a table and a refrigerator. Within the living room was a plush-looking couch and some sort of workbench Greaser had either assembled herself or scavenged from the Wasteland. A darkened doorway led into what I could only guess was a bedroom or a bathroom, and large plate glass windows let in the dim light of the overcast skies.

“It’s bad, I know,” Greaser said with a sheepish grimace. “I’ve really let it get bad. I’m always so busy scavenging and tinkering that I can’t be arsed to clean up the place. Did… did you want to come in?”

“Uh... yeah, thanks.”

I was extremely careful not to tread on anything as I made my way into Greaser’s home. I picked my way through the debris, only placing my hooves down when I was sure I wouldn’t step on something that would lodge itself firmly into their undersides. This left me in a somewhat awkward position after only a few steps, stranded in a small clearing a meter from the doorway. As innocuous as my predicament was, it was somehow still very stressful and I nickered when I felt my neck start to sweat.

“Hold on, I’ve got it,” Greaser said, shutting the door behind her and firing up her horn. All of the junk in the room was swept up and collected into a mountainous pile by Greaser’s magic before being unceremoniously deposited into an empty bin she procured from a corner of the room. “There we are. Sorted. Go on and make yourself at home, mate.”

I thanked her wordlessly and plodded over to the couch. Undoing the straps on my battle saddle and resting it on the floor was about all I could do for maintenance right now. Shrugging out of my jacket, I tossed it down as well and flopped onto the couch, letting myself sink into the plush cushions with a contented sigh. This was nice.

I took a look around while Greaser busied herself over in the kitchen. Being so high up gave the room’s window a nice view of the outside, and I clambered off of the couch to take a look. There wasn’t much to see of the city on this side of the tower, but it afforded me a very good view of Buckston’s coast. A large bay filled most of my view, encircled on either side by outcroppings of land in the vague shape of a horseshoe. 

Something caught my eye as I looked out at the water. Right in the middle of the bay was some sort of structure that looked like it was anchored to the seafloor. I couldn’t fathom its purpose and before I could ask Greaser if she knew what it was, she called over to me from the kitchen.

“All right mate, I don’t have much to munch on but you’re welcome to what I’ve got.” She approached me holding three objects in her levitation field. A bottle filled with some sort of brown liquid, a little box of snack cakes and… an apple?

“Where’d you get an apple?” I asked as I held my hooves out to receive the food Greaser had brought. “I thought the Enclave were the only ponies who could still grow produce.”

I took a bite of the apple before Greaser could answer and dropped it the second my teeth bit into its crisp red peel. Flavor exploded into my mouth with that very first bite. Sweet, tart, and completely unlike anything I’d ever tasted in my life. I snatched the apple back up and devoured it in only a few bites, licking the juices off of my hooves even after it was long gone.

“That was amazing,” I said, smacking my lips. “I’ve never tasted an apple like that in my life. The apples we have above the clouds taste like shit. Well technically they don’t taste like anything but they may as well taste like shit. How are they grown? You guys shouldn’t get enough sunlight to reliably maintain an apple orchard.”

“Well, we—” Greaser was interrupted by a polite knock on the door. She furrowed her brow in confusion. “—Uh, excuse me. That’s odd, I don’t usually get visitors.” 

I watched as Greaser trotted over to answer the door, ready to bolt out the window at a moment’s notice. I was expecting to see that monster griffon come to crush my skull like a grape, or maybe Tess. I wasn’t expecting to see what was on the other side of the door.

When the door swung open, I caught a glimpse of a statuesque pony. Indigo in color and with attributes of all three pony races prominently displayed. She practically dwarfed Greaser in size and she certainly would have towered over even my lanky frame. My blood ran cold and I tensed up as I remembered the last time I'd encountered such a terrifying creature. Alicorn! How had a stars-damned alicorn gotten into the building? We were all dead!

“Hello,” the alicorn said politely, “Excuse us, ma’am. We were wondering if you had a minute to talk about—”

“No solicitors!” Greaser bellowed before slamming the door shut right in the alicorn’s face. I felt my heart do several backflips. Was she insane? That thing could kill us all with a thought and a flick of her horn! “Bloody hell, it’s every other week with that lot.”

“Okay,” the alicorn said from behind the door, her voice noticeably muffled. “Thank you for your time.”

“What.” was all I could muster in my stunned state. “Why would you...? That was an alicorn!”

“Oh yeah, they come ‘round all the time,” Greaser said matter-of-factly. "That Unity lot, they’re always looking for willing ponies to join their cause. Doesn’t matter how rude I am to them, they always come back.”

“I can’t take this shit,” I groaned. “This is a bad dream I can’t wake up from. I think… I think I need to  lie down.”

“Feel free to,” Greaser said. “Like I said, make yourself at home. I’m going to step out for a bit, I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll lock the door behind me but I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll definitely be here with Tess before we head up to see Krieg again.”

“Thanks, Greaser. Really,” I said as I clambered back up onto the couch. “For everything. I really don’t deserve it after what I tried to do to you.”

“No worries, mate,” Greaser said. “It’s all water under the bridge now, especially after what happened with Krieg. Get some rest, yeah? Remember, we’ve still got to get you looked at.”

I mumbled a drowsy affirmative as I sank lower into the couch’s cushions. I was glad I’d trusted Greaser in the end. She really was a pony of her word, and that was worth more than gold to me at the moment. I had time to hear the door click shut behind Greaser before the combination of comfort and fatigue dragged me down into the blissful depths of sleep. 

Maybe living down here in the Wasteland wouldn’t be so bad after all.



Footnote: Level up.

Companion Perk Added:
Wrench Wench – Tech-savvy mechanic Greaser has joined the party! With her expertise, you gain a +15 point bonus to repair and discover more crafting materials than normal within containers.
> Chapter 10: Terms of Service
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 10: Terms of Service



I found myself adrift in inky black darkness. I couldn’t feel the solidity of the ground beneath my hooves, nor the spongy softness of the cloud cover I was more intimately familiar with. I also had no idea which way was up—which by all accounts should have been distressing—but I felt surprisingly devoid of panic.

As if the universe itself was watching for my reaction, tiny lights winked into existence all around me. They filled my field of view—left, right and all around me in every direction. Miniscule orbs of light twinkling against the pitch black backdrop of space. Living above the cloud cover meant I was no stranger to such a sight. Stars. Seeing them again caused my old sense of foal-like wonder to resurface and I felt my spirits lift higher than they had in days.

I searched the skies for the moon but couldn’t find it. Not an odd circumstance to me, although history told me such a thing may have caused distress in pre-war times. Nowadays the heavenly bodies governed their own passage and every thirty days or so the moon completely disappeared from the night sky. Still, something about it bothered me but I couldn’t put a feather on it.

Entering into a lazy backstroke, I drifted along and swept my gaze over the billions of twinkling little lights all around me. It was a little disorienting from outer space compared to the cloud cover. Even so, I was still able to locate and trace the patterns of stars I’d grown familiar with. I worked my way from constellation to constellation before coming to rest on the brightest star in the night sky. Or the place where it should have been. Polaris’s conspicuous absence left me feeling profoundly uncomfortable.

Before I could begin to panic, a gaseous blob of color danced about in front of my face and I drifted back a ways to see what it was. Floating before me was the cloudy facsimile of a swan. By some strange magic a large amount of cosmic dust had coalesced to form the familiar shape of the bird I remembered only as Doc’s treasured pet. At its core and all throughout were twinkling little lights that formed the constellation of Cygnus.

“Spirits preserve me, sweet merciful Polaris,” I gasped breathlessly. “Cygnus?”

There was no response from the swan. It merely fixed me with what I assumed was a stare given that it had no visible eyes. As I gazed upon what may or may not have been the manifestation of a deity, a small amount of dust flowed from the creature and gained shape. A moment later I was looking at a blue pint-sized pony with more twinkling stars inside that together formed the constellation Equuleus.

“A pony!” I exclaimed excitedly. Cygnus’s head drooped back in an unmistakable gesture of a sigh. “Sorry, I got carried away. This is really neat.”

I watched patiently as more bits of Cygnus siphoned off and formed miniature avatars of the constellations. When it was finished, the swan gestured with a wing and I looked on, curious. Between us was a miniature cosmic diorama with four pony constellations and a gaseous blob circling over their heads. Three of the ponies stood on one side of an invisible line and the fourth stood on the other side facing them. I shivered as Cygnus outstretched a wingtip to touch me and drew it back to rest on the lone pony constellation.

“That’s me,” I guessed. Next, Cygnus drew its wingtip over to one of the three other ponies and it exploded in a cloud of sparkles. “...That guy explodes?” Cygnus shook its head and the pony reformed, then it repeated the previous gesture. “He dies?” Another shake of the head. “Disappears?” By now Cygnus had gotten quite frustrated and buried its face in a wing. “I don’t think you understand how bad I am at charades. Trying to guess what you mean is really tough, you know. Pointing doesn’t tell a whole lot.”

Cygnus perked up immediately and another bit of dust formed the shape of an arrow beside my representation. Again, it pointed to me and then to the other pony with the orbiting cloud above it. With another gesture the arrow loosed itself and speared the pony and it disappeared in a poof as before.

“Ohhh, you want me to shoot that guy,” I said, and Cygnus nodded its approval. “Why, though?”

My answer came abruptly as the until-now-shapeless gas took on the shape of another constellation, this one that of a snake. Before the name could even surface in my mind, the heavenly serpent coiled and reared its head back. My scream died in the vacuum of space as the snake darted towards me with an ethereal hiss. I was powerless to defend myself, forced to watch as the beast struck. In an instant the head swelled to massive proportions as it grew closer. The very last thing I saw before I woke with a start was the pitch dark void of a black hole before massive jaws closed with a deafening snap.


*		*		*


“I still don’t think this is a very good idea,” I groused. “If he really wants to kill me there isn’t going to be a whole lot you two can do to stop him. He seemed pretty committed to it until you stepped in, but something tells me that trick won’t work twice.”

Once again I found myself inside the Spire’s elevator as it rose up to Krieg Razorbeak’s office. Greaser and Tess accompanied me but it wasn’t doing a whole lot to steel my nerves. Having had time to think about it I’d decided I was no happier to be meeting with him today than I had been yesterday.

“I have spoken to him,” Tess said from my right. “He is… willing to compromise.”

“Just relax, mate,” Greaser said, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. “How are you feeling, by the by? Doing all right?”

“I’m going to assume you mean mentally.”

“Yeah. Good night’s kip can work wonders and you were out like a bloody light by the time I got home.”

I rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “I had a really weird dream that woke me up and made zero sense, but it was still the most restful sleep I’ve had in days. Still real tender around the ribs. I’m not sure healing potions were enough for whatever got banged around in there.”

“No worries, mate. We’ll get you looked at,” Greaser said. “If Krieg’s not willing to do it I’ll find someone else who can get you sorted out. He’s not the only bloke ‘round here with medical expertise, he just happens to be the best.”

“I’m positively brimming with confidence,” I droned as the elevator dinged and the doors parted.

He was still there, that massive griffon. He had a strange coloration, like some mad sciencepony had lopped off the top half of a massive grey hawk and stapled it to the body of a panther. He stood over by the large plate glass windows overlooking the city, brooding and glaring out over the bay’s waters. I caught his eye in the reflection of the glass and realized that he wasn’t actually looking out the window, but instead watching us as we exited the elevator.

“So,” he growled without turning, “Welcome back, Red.”

I bristled at the intentional rudeness before correcting him. “Mach.”

“Red,” Krieg insisted. “You’ll be in and out of my life in short order and I don’t have time to memorize the name of every pony who comes through my city. I’ve been told you’re in need of medical care. I’m sure you understand that costs money.”

“I learned that lesson days ago, trust me. I’m well aware that Wasteland surgeons don’t accept Enclave military medical coverage. Or real money.”

“Funny guy,” Krieg said flatly. He wasn’t smiling. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re not a braindead moron. You understand where I’m going with this?”

“Quid pro quo,” I answered simply. “A favor for a favor.”

“Bingo. You say you’re no longer in the Enclave. You’ve also been branded—though only on one side, which makes me wonder. Either way, this could work out such that it mutually benefits both of us.”

I narrowed my gaze, suspicious. “What are you getting at?”

“I got a little job for you, Red,” Krieg said as he at last turned to face us. He stomped over to his desk and sat down in his chair with a creak of ancient leather. He stared at me for a moment, drumming his talons idly against the arms of the chair. “First, you’re gonna find out what those Enclave bastards are doing in my city. Once you’ve done that, you’re going to come back here and tell me everything you learn. You get that done, you’ll get your medical treatment.”

“Is this the part where I tell you to take your offer and shove it?” Beside me, Tess and Greaser winced and grimaced.

“Easy mate,” Greaser cautioned with a whisper. “Try and keep it civil, he’s very prideful.”

“Excuse me?” Krieg said, ceasing his talon-drumming and leaning forward in his chair. “My hearing’s not what it used to be so I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“If that’s what you want me to do, I’d be better off taking my chances with some back-alley quack that learned medicine from a foal’s anatomy book,” I sneered. “All it’ll take is one look at the lightning bolt on my ass and I’ll catch a laser straight through the forehead. If you think whatever officer is in charge of this apparent top-secret operation is stupid enough to divulge crucial details to an enemy of the state, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“What if I told you that you didn’t have a choice?” Krieg hissed, clenching the arms of his chair  tight enough to puncture and tear the leather.

“Oh, damn,” I said, half-hearted. “I don’t know how I managed to miss the shackles on my legs keeping me here. Well, shit. I can’t just walk away after all. I guess you got me!”

“Nein, Storch,” Tess cautioned. "An deiner Stelle würd' ich das sein lassen.” The griffoness paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh mömentchen, lass mich mal kurz... Perhaps try peace? No, that is not the word. Ah, diplomacy.”

“You’re going to do this for me whether you want to or not,” Krieg said, standing up on his hindlegs to tower over me. “Because I don’t have anyone in my employ who can successfully accomplish this. Because I need to know if whatever the Enclave has planned puts the people in my city in danger, and...” Krieg took that moment to lean over and grab me by the throat again. “Because if you don’t do this I’ll break every bone in your body and throw you off my roof.”

His grip wasn’t tight enough to choke me, but it sent a very clear message. “I got it,” I hissed, seething. “But I won’t last a snowball’s chance in hell without a way to conceal my brand.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Krieg said as he released me. “We’ve got everything you’ll need.”


*		*		*


“I feel like an asshole,” I said as I perched the officer’s cap between my ears and ensured it was straight, “Even when I was leading surface recovery teams I didn’t wear this shit.”

I’d said my goodbyes to Greaser after leaving her with most of my things, but not before asking her to take a look at the coilgun in my absence. I couldn’t well show my face around Enclave troopers with stolen equipment, though considering the circumstances the sentiment was a tad ironic. Krieg had sent me off with Tess, who’d set me up with a stolen Enclave field officer’s uniform with matching cap and boots. I tried really hard not to think about how they’d managed to acquire such a thing or what had happened to the previous owner. As I finished affixing my pistol holster to my leg, Tess gave me a quick rundown.

“I have managed to track the Enclave pegasi well enough to pinpoint a likely base of operations,” the griffoness explained. “There is a high amount of activity centered around an old bottling plant southwest of Sanctuary. I would start by searching there.”

“Have you noticed anything heavier flying in the vicinity?” I asked, “Like Sky-tanks or even troopers with power armor?”

“Nein,” Tess answered with a shake of her head. My eyes were drawn to her bundled crest feathers as they swayed with the motion. “I have only been able to observe the occasional pegasus dressed as you are entering or exiting the building. I have also noticed Steel Rangers coming and going, though very rarely. Perhaps only once or twice.”

“Steel Rangers,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “What does it mean? It makes no sense.”

Maybe I could get more out of this than just medical treatment. With all these strange happenings allegedly involving the Enclave operating on the surface I was starting to get awful curious myself. After my encounter with the twins and that Steel Ranger patrol I had a lot more questions than answers. Perhaps I could get some of them cleared up while I was in the process of placating that crotchety thug of a griffon.

“All right, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I said. “I’d tell all of you not to wait up but I don’t suppose you will anyway.”

“I will follow shortly and remain in the area for half an hour,” Tess said, much to my surprise. “If you do not return within this window I will assume things have gone poorly and report back to Krieg of your failure.”

That sounded more in-line with what I expected from a mercenary. “Gee, thanks for the vote of  confidence,” I snorted.

“Bitte,” Tess chirped.

I rolled my eyes and took flight, much as I didn’t want to. My chest still ached something fierce with every beat of my wings, but I’d be damned if I was going to drag this task out by walking. I didn’t pay any mind to the city beneath me as I flew, but I did note some things along Buckston’s coast that stuck out quite clearly. One of the more noteworthy sights was an old naval station with a lone aircraft carrier capsized at port. Further down the coastline I could see a shipbreaking yard with rusted out hulks of scrapped ships scattered all around. Burgeoning industrial town indeed.

I kept an eye out for this bottling plant as I got a lay of the land. I didn’t expect to recognize it when I saw it, but it was quite clear from the second I set eyes on the building that I’d found exactly what I was searching for.

Erected atop an old brick building was a huge caricature of a bright green spaceship. It was a cartoony-looking thing, vaguely bottle-shaped and superimposed with the word Lightspeed in a sweeping cursive font. The whole affair was artistically encircled by stylized rocket exhaust.

I let out a thoughtful “Huh.” It wasn’t a beverage I was familiar with at all. Then again, I wasn’t really familiar with any pre-war consumables. That brown stuff in the bottle that Greaser had given to me was pretty tasty, though. Sparkle~Cola if I remembered correctly. I had to see if she could find me more of that stuff. Just the thought of the syrupy sweetness and pleasant fizziness on my tongue was making my mouth water.

“You’re stalling,” I mumbled to myself when I realized what I was doing. “Sooner I get this over with the sooner I can get out of here.”

I pitched forward and aimed for the front entrance as I descended. I wasn’t too worried about being caught impersonating an Enclave officer. I used to be one, after all. Considering my experience with regs, procedure, and terminology I had no need to bluff my way through anything. What concerned me was being recognized. Or not being recognized, as the case may have been. All it would take would be one pony wondering who the hell I was and why I was snooping around to blow my cover.

Straightening my cap one last time, I put on my best officer’s scowl and pushed the doors open. It went about as well as I could expect. I ran into nopony while I marched through the bottling plant’s corridors. I snatched up a clipboard from atop a table as I passed and tucked it under a wing. I’d always heard the best way to look busy was to be holding something.

Something was nagging at me as I trotted along, but it didn’t register until my unease had grown to the point where I could no longer ignore it. I paused and looked over my shoulder when I realized what was bothering me, but found nopony there. I’d just waltzed into what was supposedly an Enclave field outpost without encountering any sort of guard or patrol. Was I in the right place? Or was it possible that the pony in command was just that lax with regards to procedure?

“Hey. You,” A voice said from in front of me.

I whipped my head around in a panic to focus on the speaker, my neck muscles tense and ready to grab for my laser pistol. A pegasus clad in power armor stood before me, his visor pushed up to allow wispy curls of his blue-grey mane to poke out from under his helmet. A vicious scar raked across his snow-white muzzle, the healed tissue pinching his skin just enough to give him the illusion of a permanent sneer.

“Yeah, what?” I snapped. I couldn’t give him a second to get suspicious, I had to be aggressive to sell my disguise. “Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question,” the stallion shot back.

“I don’t see how what I’m doing is any of your business,” I replied. “I’m on my way to the latrine so unless you want to tag along and hold it for me while I piss, I suggest you get back to your duties.”

There was a brief pause before the stallion started walking towards me, his gaze accusatory. “Y’know,” he said as he approached with clanking armored hooves, “Now that I think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing you around before. What was your name again?”

I felt sweat start to bead on my neck and I fought to keep my expression neutral. “If you don’t know who I am then we have a serious problem—”

“Not the one you’re thinking of, that’s for sure,” the stallion said, cutting me off. “The only problem I see here is a pony with nothing to do. You know what I think? I think it looks to me an awful lot like you’re shirking duty. Why don’t you accompany me to the Commander’s office? I think we should go have a chat with him and see if there’s anything important he needs us to do.”

I stammered, “That won’t be necessary, I—”

The stallion blurred and I felt an armored leg hook itself under my left shoulder. At the same time, the bladed scorpion tail swung around to rest its tip just beneath my jaw.

“I insist,” the stallion said, using his grip on my leg to throw me forward and ahead of him. “Down the hall and to the right. Don’t stop until you reach the end.”

“Don’t tell me where to go, I know my way around,” I snapped in a vain attempt to keep the bluff going.

“Save it. Get moving.”

I made a noncommittal grunt and began walking in the direction I’d been told. Various plans of escape blurred through my mind in a panic, but truth be told I could see no way out. Not without sustaining grievous bodily harm at any rate. Right now my best option was to meet with the commanding officer of this operation and hope he hadn’t yet heard about my exile through the grapevine. If I got lucky, I even stood to gain by engaging in civil discussion with a member of my own kind.

When I reached the end of the hallway, I paused before a closed office door. I did a quick scan of the immediate area while my ‘escort’ tromped up behind me. I was hoping to spot a potential escape vector, a window or an adjacent room—anything to break line of sight to me. My luck being what it was afforded me no such boon. Instead it was nothing but long corridors to either side of me.

“Get in there,” the trooper barked, giving me a shove forward.

“All right, all right!” I complained as I placed my hoof up against the door while muttering under my breath, “Stars almighty, you’re a grouch.”

I pushed the door open and stepped into what appeared to be a conference room. Gloomy and lit only by the feeble glow of a flickering bulb was a long table that took up most of the room. Set upon the table were various documents and discarded papers, but none of these things compared to the centerpiece. It stuck out in stark contrast, floating above the table just high enough to pass a hoof underneath it without touching. I recognized it instantly. I’d been there before.

“Cyclonus,” I gasped as I caught sight of the Enclave metropolis in miniature.

Indeed it was. An exact replica of the Eternal Storm whirled lazily above the boardroom table, fashioned completely out of cloud. The papers upon the table stirred and flapped in the miniscule winds generated by the fun-sized natural disaster. Tiny little cloud buildings orbited above the hurricane’s eye wall, carried along by the churning wind. Even after my brief visit last year I still remembered how disorienting it was being in a city that spun like a huge wagon wheel. When airborne, at least. If one was to spend a length of time flying in Cyclonus, the same building could be in a completely different location inside of an hour.

I stepped forward towards the table and reached out like a curious foal as some primal part of my brain told me to touch and see if the model was a genuine cloud.

“I’ll ask you to refrain from touching the display, thank you,” a voice said from directly opposite me. I froze as a pair of hooves reached out from beneath the cloud and coaxed it higher to rest by the ceiling where it continued to whirl overhead. Once I was finally able to tear my gaze away from the meticulously detailed model, I looked down at the pony who’d moved it up out of sight.

Across the table from me stood an indigo-coated stallion. His face was an expressionless mask and he regarded me with a glance I interpreted as halfway between accusatory and irritated. He didn’t say anything but continued to stare at me, unblinking. I rustled my wings and swallowed as I observed one eyebrow rising up to rest just beneath the Enclave commander’s mossy green mane and his lips parted to form a small ‘o.’ If losing his demeanor in front of me bothered him in any way, he didn’t show it. He merely reined his eyebrow in and any trace of emotion that had been there vanished from his features.

“Rime,” the commander said, not taking his eyes off me. “I believe I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“I apologize, Commander Vortex,” the pony from behind me—Rime—replied. “But I bumped into this one wandering the corridors. I figured you might want to see him and decide what to do with him personally.”

“I see,” the Enclave commander answered. He didn’t sound pleased. “Find Crosswind and send her in, if you please. I’ve some duties for her to attend to.”

I turned to watch Rime depart, his armored tail slithering through the door behind him as it shut. I felt my confidence rise a little as he did. I didn’t like my chances against an armed and armored opponent but this Enclave commander was unarmed. If I needed to make a hasty retreat I didn’t think he’d pose a threat to my escape. I turned back around to see him regarding me with a very intense gaze.

“You have until my subordinates return to explain yourself,” he said once we’d locked eyes. He had a very smooth, eloquent way of speaking and he enunciated all of his syllables perfectly. Somehow he managed to do so with none of the snobbishness one would expect from such a trait. He must’ve been a good public speaker because I was having a hard time hating the guy on first impressions alone.

I hadn’t really prepared a contingency plan for this situation. My intent had been to shoot in, snoop around a little and shoot straight back out.

“Oh, we haven’t met yet,” I said with a winning smile. “I’m the new guy. Yep. Just flew down this morning. Name’s Operative Frosty Wi—uh…” I balked, stopping myself from blurting the first name to spring to mind. No, that sounded too girly. I needed something more stallionesque. “Wi-Winds… Wind Chill…” No, Wind Chill sounded a little too broody to fit a pony of my stature. That was more dangeresque than stallionesque. “Winterfresh,” I answered without further thought, my face a grim mask of seriousness. “My name is Winterfresh.”

Nailed it.

“Indeed?” Vortex said with a slight inclination of his chin and brow. “You seem like more of a… Big Red to me. Did you want to try that again? We’ve still got some time before Rime and Crosswind return. Please do continue, I’m rather enjoying myself.”

“Beg pardon?” I said, fighting the urge to loosen my collar. Was it getting hotter in here?

“If you thought you could waltz straight into my outpost and blend in like one of my few trusted associates you were sorely mistaken,” Vortex said, a touch of incredulousness in his tone. “As far as infiltration attempts go this is by far the most abysmal I’ve ever seen. Would you like to know precisely where you went wrong?”

It was apparent that I’d been made so I didn’t bother trying to lie my way out of it. I wasn’t the best bluffer by any stretch of the imagination and I’d only dig myself a deeper hole by trying. I had to figure the only reason I wasn’t dead yet was because Vortex had something in mind. Whether it would be good or horrifically bad remained to be seen.

“I’m listening,” I murmured.

“Your attire, for one,” Vortex said, pointing at my stolen officer’s uniform. “Standard-issue Enclave military. All of my subordinates have altered the appearance of their gear in order to be subtly distinguishable from your run-of-the-mill Enclave trooper. Or did you completely fail to notice the blue accents in your half-witted plan to fool me?”

I honestly hadn’t noticed it before, but now that I took a closer look I could see navy blue stitching all throughout Vortex’s uniform. Even the composite body armor he wore to protect his chest and hindquarters had seams lined in more blue trim. It didn’t exactly scream out loud like neon green would have but it was a very distinct and clever way to distinguish friend from foe if one knew what to look for. Damn the luck.

“So, my little Enclave spy,” Vortex said as the door opened behind me. I whirled to see Rime enter followed by a second armored trooper and I swallowed again as they blocked the room’s only exit. “That brings us to the inevitable question of what to do with you.”

“Whoa,” I said, my wings unfurling slightly as I felt panic begin to take hold. “I know what you’re thinking but I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh?” Vortex said. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like the Enclave has sent an agent to collect intelligence about my operations and whereabouts. Though I’ve admittedly learned a whole lot more from you than I imagine you’ve learned from me. Namely that the Enclave doesn’t know a thing beyond the fact that there is an independent contingent of former Enclave pegasi operating without the Council’s knowledge.”

“You’re not with the Enclave…?” I shook my head with a nicker. “Wait, that’s not important. Okay you have to listen to me. I’m not—heh—I’m not a spy. I’m not even affiliated with the Enclave.” Vortex gave me a flat look. “Uh, anymore. Really.”

“Crosswind…” Vortex sighed, his voice weary with exasperation.

“No, really!” I cried desperately, but Vortex’s expression remained unconvinced. “Okay, yes, fine! I was sent here to spy, but not by order of the Enclave. It was for dirt-munching Wastelander mercenaries! I swear!”

A heavy blow struck the back of my head and my eyesight blanked out as surely as if somepony had tossed a flashbang into the room. My legs turned to jelly and I dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes while multicolored stars danced and flew before my eyes. Before I could process what had happened, an armored hoof slammed my skull against the floor and held me immobile.

“You’re not fooling anypony, scum,” A mare’s voice snarled from behind me. Not Rime, then. “You show up out of nowhere, try to blend in like you’ve been working with us for years when you haven’t got a clue and you’re wearing standard-issue Enclave field officer dress. You must think we were all born yesterday.”

“Listen, listen, listen,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “Just listen to what I have to say!”

“Shut it!” the mare snarled, and my protests were cut short when her hoof squeezed my head even harder against the floor. I gasped and tried to recoil when the bladed tip of her suit’s scorpion tail darted in to float just in front of my eye. “Shall I kill him now, sir?”

“You may dispense with your usual brand of hostility, Crosswind,” Vortex sighed. “Just hold him for the moment.” He moved to where I could see him from my position on the floor but made no effort to lower himself to my eye level. Instead, he looked down his nose at me with an expression that clearly said I was wasting his time. “I am a very busy pony, so it would be in your best interests to present your case as clearly and succinctly as possible.”

“Okay look,” I breathed out with a sigh of relief, “This’ll sound stupid at first but roll with me on it, all right? All I need you to do is let me up so I can pull my pants down.” Vortex’s eyelid twitched and I had a feeling I was going to need a bucket pretty soon for all the sweat pouring off my face. “Or one of you can do it!” I said before he could change his mind. “I don’t care who the hell does it, just get ‘em off me and everything will make sense. Trust me on this one. It costs you nothing to hear me out.”

“Crosswind.”

Crosswind’s bladed tail vanished from in front of my eye and I yelped when I felt cold steel press against the base of my spine. When I heard and felt tearing fabric instead of rending flesh I realized Crosswind had used the blade to cut the waistband of my stolen Enclave uniform. The area around my flank got significantly more breezy as the tattered remains of my pants dropped down to my fetlocks. A firm prod at the brand on my flank set the wound to throbbing and I inhaled sharply.

“Fresh? Well now, this is interesting,” Vortex purred. “Perhaps there was a grain of truth to what you said after all. Crosswind, let him up.”

I pushed myself up when the armored hoof left the back of my skull and locked gazes with Vortex. I couldn’t get a total read on his expression, unique as it was. If I had to guess I’d have put it somewhere between satisfied and calculating. Something about the way he was looking at me told me the gears were really spinning in his head. Though then again, after my accumulated time in the Wasteland maybe that was me getting used to knowing when I was about to be implemented as a tool of somepony’s will.

That was me, apparently. The Wasteland’s most overworked multi-tool, yours for the princely sum of only nine-ninety five. Aisle seven between ratchets and wrenches. If you hit woodworking supplies you’ve gone too far. Don’t leave home without one!

“I believe you said something about being here to spy?” Vortex asked. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I confirmed, rolling my sore neck and shrugging my wings. “I needed a favor and the payment was information. I was sent here to find out what the Enclave’s interests in Buckston are, but…” I trailed off, giving Vortex my best calculating stare. “...If what you say is true, the Enclave was never in Buckston, was it?”

“Not as thick as you look, are you?” Vortex coolly replied. “That is correct, the Enclave is not, nor has it ever had a presence in this location. Regardless of that fact it has been quite a useful guise for my operation. A small strike force of pegasi with pristine equipment tends to attract the attention of the aspiring wasteland warlord, you see. Openly wearing the insignia of a mysterious seldom-spoken-of faction tends to give ponies pause.”

“If there’s a point, get to it,” I snapped. “I’m not an Enclave spy, as I have gone to painstaking lengths to prove. I really don’t give a good stars-damn what you and your lackeys are up to. My one concern for the immediate future is making nice with the local riffraff so I can get my damn hoof in the door. Am I free to go or not?”

“Watch your mouth, scum,” Crosswind snarled, and I found myself flanked on either side by both she and Rime. “You should be groveling at Commander Vortex’s hooves and thanking your lucky stars that you’re still drawing breath.”

“You have got some serious pent-up aggression there, Sweetheart,” I jibed before I could stop myself. “You should try flicking the bean once in a while. Or I could gladly assist milady if the task is considered beneath her,” I said, extending a hoof towards the purple mare. “Shall we away to your chambers, madam? I assure you I am an expert lover.”

“You slimy piece of sh—”

“If you two have finished,” Vortex snarled, his gaze snapping from me to Crosswind and back until we were content to merely glare daggers at each other. Once we’d settled down he flashed me a diabolical smile. “Come now. Surely you’ve learned by now that nothing in the Wasteland comes for free. I don’t think I need to point out that you’re also bargaining from a position of weakness.”

“Stars a-fucking-live,” I spat. “Here we go with the bullshit again. ‘Do this stupid fucking thing for me, Mach,’” I said, affecting a prissy, nasally tone and injecting as much insolence as I could physically muster, “‘Wipe my ass for me, Mach. Go do my grocery shopping. Genetically engineer magical radiation-resistant grapes and feed them to me off the vine, Mach.’ It never fucking ends with you people!”

I could hear Crosswind’s teeth grinding, but she held her tongue. Rime appeared to be coolly detached and was unaffected by my mockery. Vortex, to my immense surprise, had allowed his smile to grow wider. Nothing I could throw at the guy seemed to phase him. He was cooler than a cucumber in the freezer.

“Rime,” Vortex called, the smirk disappearing from his mouth to be replaced by a grim line. “is the package secure?”

“Yes, sir,” came Rime’s gravelly rasp from my right side, “Secure and awaiting retrieval. I just received word from our contact this morning.”

“Excellent,” Vortex said. “Excellent. Your part in all this is quite simple, my sharp-tongued associate. All I need of you is to fetch a package for me. About so large,” he said, holding his hooves about fifteen centimeters apart. “It’s a holotape with sensitive information stored upon it. It’s quite dangerous for me or mine to be seen in public with some of the contacts I’ve established. Therefore, we use a series of dead drop points when brokering information. You will go to the Buckston Police Department and retrieve this holotape for me.”

I scoffed despite myself. “What exactly stops me from fucking off the second I walk out of this factory?”

“The fact that if you don’t,” Vortex began, his grin returning, “I will completely undermine your mission to spy on me and have you publically outed as an undercover Enclave agent. I will ensure you are declared persona non-grata and run you clear out of this city. You will never find work, you will never find lodging and if I am lucky that insipid griffon mercenary leader will hunt you down and murder you in the most creatively painful way imaginable. He’s been a constant thorn in my side and made it rather difficult to operate out of the shadows. Despises the Enclave, you see.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit and you know it,” I sneered. “Who the hell would listen to you? You’re no more trustworthy than I am, walking around impersonating an Enclave detachment.”

“I retract my previous statement, you are an imbecile,” Vortex chuckled. “Contrary to what you may believe, we are not the same. You are a stranger with naught but a discolored patch of flesh to prove your allegiance. You’ve no assets or allies, no credibility. However, I have resided here long enough to have sown plentiful seeds and reaped their rewards. Whom do you suppose the wastelanders are more likely to believe?” Vortex cooed, a lone eyebrow raised. “A drifter who flew in overnight, or any one of several business associates of mine? Contacts I’ve made that have lived in this city their entire lives; indigenous peoples to a land we’ve merely adopted as our own. Do you really think your word will shake the foundations of the trusting business relationships and local connections I’ve established to further my influence?

“You’re digging at the bottom of a dry well and I’d advise you to stop before you hit water,” the smug asshole continued. “I don’t ask much from you. Be a good little soldier and retrieve the holotape that we may wash our hooves of each other. It shouldn’t take more than an hour if you don’t tarry.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled before I was calm enough to respond without shouting. “That’s all, right? Once I run this errand you won’t try to fuck with me?”

“Once your task is complete I’ll have no further use for you,” Vortex said as he turned back to his model of Cyclonus. “No further action will be necessary on my part unless our paths should cross again. I trust you can find your own way out?”

“I can manage,” I growled before injecting as much saccharinity into my voice as possible, “Unless Dollface over there wants to do me the pleasure of escorting me out.” I puckered my lips and made kissy noises at the irate mare. “Maybe we can take the long way out and burn off some stress before I go.”

“Will you get lost, you fucking creep?” Crosswind shrieked. “Do us all a favor and get shot in the face!”

I slid through the door grinning ear to ear, but paused to stick my head back through before I closed it. “Ought to work on the temper if you want to pass as an Enclave soldier. Keep losing your cool like that and people will start to wonder where your discipline is.” I ducked her bladed tail when it came rocketing toward my skull and embedded itself into the wood of the door. “Toodles!”

Once the door slammed shut behind me as Crosswind tugged her armored tail free, I bolted for the entrance. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I was in the air and checking my tail to make sure nopony was following me. When I was sure I wouldn’t be pursued I exhaled a massive gust of air and relished being back beneath the vast openness of the skies.

Briefly, I considered leaving Vortex twisting in the wind as I flew back downtown but ultimately dismissed the idea just as fast. Razorbeak hated my guts and I imagined he’d gladly take the word of one of Vortex’s contacts over mine. At this point I was certain he’d jump at any chance to put two in my head and throw me in a dumpster. No, for now the best course of action was to continue playing errand colt. Realistically this would be the very last time I’d ever have to do so but I cursed myself for even allowing the thought to cross my mind. Jinx much?

“Hallo.”

“Stars alive!” I bellowed, clutching a hoof to my surging heart. At some point on my return trip Tess had glided up alongside me without my noticing. “Don’t do that, I’m wound up tighter than a clock right now!”

“T'schuldigung,” Tess replied, though she looked more amused than remorseful. “Were you successful in learning anything? You are still alive. That is a good start, ja?”

“I learned plenty, but I can’t come back to the Spire to make my report yet. The guy in charge has me by the short hairs. If I don’t play fetch for him he’s gonna fuck my reputation before I even get the chance to establish it. You wouldn’t happen to know where the Buckston Police Station is, would you? They’ve left a dead drop there for me to collect. Once I retrieve it I’m off the hook.”

“I will tell you how to find this place but you must be careful, Storch,” Tess said. “It is outside of Sanctuary and not within range of Obsidian’s patrols. Not protected, kapiert? Steel Rangers lurk this area frequently. I will head back to the spire and find my team. We will fly overwatch for you, ja?”

“I won’t say no to backup,” I replied gratefully. “I’d rather not need it but I’d definitely appreciate the help if things go to hell in a hoofbasket.”

“Sehr gut. Auf wiedersehen.”

Tess tossed me a salute and we split. I watched her go and my gaze lingered perhaps a little too long on her snowy white flank as it disappeared into the distance. Damn it, that chick was growing on me like a bad habit. I shook my head and put on a burst of speed. There would be time to consider that glossy, magnificently-formed avenue of thought later. For now it was time to put this absurd chain of favors bullshit to rest for good.


*		*		*


Locating the police station wasn’t too difficult with Tess’s directions. I was glad to have the help because damned if everything in the city didn’t look samey to me, foreign as the construction was. Cloud buildings felt a lot more distinct to me at a glance. I was used to gentle curves and whorls with lots of solid columns and poofy clouds galore. Everything below me looked like a bunch of crudely designed boxes crammed into every available space the pre-war architects had to work with, leaving just enough room to lay down the roads.

It was those very same roads that helped me pinpoint my destination. Buckston Police Station itself was such an innocuous-looking building that I probably would’ve missed it without help. It was just another rectangular slab of brick blending in against the backdrop of the sprawling cityscape. A long strip of road just in front of the building was what gave it away. I could see faded letters that had been painted onto the paved surface centuries ago that declared the space as police parking only.

Eager to be done and off on my way again, I swooped down to land on the station’s front stoop. I swept my gaze around to do a quick perimeter check in case I missed anything from the skies but the coast was clear. Raising a hoof to push the door open, I paused and let it drop when I saw a glint of light out of the corner of my eye.

When I spotted the source of the soft mote of light I was initially confused, but it came to me immediately when I realized what I was looking at. Somepony had painted a motley crew of spots on the concrete steps of the police station with what appeared to be metallic paint. Together they formed a symbol that would make no sense to a Wastelander but that I was able to identify without a second thought. They were stars. A constellation. Aquarius to be specific; the water-bearer.

“Vortex’s contact?” I murmured quietly as I traced a wingtip over the small dots to link them and form the familiar pictogram of Aquarius. “I suppose it would make sense to use a communication system only pegasi would understand, though I have no idea what this is supposed to mean out of context. This must be my clue to keep an eye open for more of these.”

I pushed onward into the police station, my senses on alert for hostiles and my eyes on the lookout for more starsigns. I didn’t have to wander far to find the first one. At the station’s reception desk was another spattering of paint dots, this time in the shape of Sagittarius; the archer. I was no less confused about its meaning than the last sign, but on a whim I decided to head in the direction the head of Sagittarius’ arrow was pointing. It was a solid guess and I didn’t have to wander far before I found an identical constellation of Sagittarius further inside the station.

I slowed my pace a little now that I knew what to watch out for and took some time to poke around the police station’s innards. It had been ransacked for sure, in all likelihood several times over just as the general store I’d spent the night at. Prowling through the abandoned police station was almost in the same realm of creepy as the old elementary school from my first day in the Wasteland. All the abandoned offices and department desks only served to remind me of the fact that people used to work here. Two-hundred years ago people would have been shuffling through these halls, filling out reports and answering phones day in and day out.

Old terminals and furniture were strewn through every corridor leaving me to pick my way around the clutter in a ridiculous zig-zag pattern just to push forward. After the third detour through a side room I gave up on exploration and made a mental note to come back at some point in the near future to check the evidence room and armory. You know, once I was finally free of my laundry list of obligations.

I didn’t expect to find a whole lot on my return, but with any luck some things had been overlooked. With a great deal of luck I’d happen upon a treasure trove of supplies that scavengers had failed to pilfer. Anything that would put money in my pocket or bartering power on the table was an attractive prospect to me at the moment. Doubly so considering most of my equipment was either damaged or nonfunctional.

When I at last tracked down the final Sagittarius I found it had been sprayed on a pile of desks and filing cabinets that blocked off the rest of the hallway. To my right was my apparent destination and where Vortex’s contact had made the drop—the interrogation room. I sighed and shook my head as I stepped into the room to retrieve the holodisk.

“Somepony thinks they’re a fucking comedian,” I grumbled. “I would’ve left it in the evidence room.”

There it was, right there on the plain-looking table in the center of the room. I cast a wary glance at what I knew would be a one-way mirror and froze when I saw my reflection. I looked like shit. My coat was caked in crusted blood and grime, my mane was a greasy mess and I had massive bags under my bloodshot eyes. Stars alive, I looked like a strung-out hobo. Or like I was at the tail-end of a week long bender. No wonder everypony was wary of me, I looked like I was about to start screaming in tongues and shanking ponies with a fork.

It wasn’t all bad, though. I tilted my head to the side to get a good view of my face in profile. That little tuft of hair on my chin was starting to grow out a bit and I didn’t altogether hate the look. I’d had to keep it trimmed close and neat to meet hygiene regs so I’d never taken the time to experiment. I shot myself a smile. Rakish. I made dirt pony look pretty damn good.

I was about to turn to pick the holodisk up when I noticed it reflected in the mirror—another starsign. It turned my blood to ice water before I was even able to identify it and I spun around to verify the un-mirrored image. Serpens. Connecting the dots and remembering my dream from the night before, I knew this was too weird to be a coincidence. I went to snatch the holodisk up and book it out of the station as fast as my scrawny legs could carry me when the flickering light overhead winked out. I heard the door slam shut a moment after and panic started to well up inside me when I heard somepony speak. I wasn’t alone.

“You shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you. I’d put that right back where you found it if I were you.”

Light blossomed from behind me and I saw my head silhouetted on the wall beside Serpens’ constellation. Turning once more to face the mirror, I saw the massive armored bulk of a Steel Ranger on the other side of the glass, headlamp turned on to nullify the reflective properties of the mirror and allow me to see him. Or intimidate me. Both were likely but I assumed the latter was more to the point considering Tess had told me they prowled this area. My gut lurched and my chest ached in remembrance of the previous day’s encounter.

“Sorry, you got the wrong guy,” I replied. “I’m just a courier.”

I sized up tall, armored, and handsomely dangerous while I waited for his response. He looked far more deadly than both of the Rangers I’d seen yesterday put together, no question. He was brimming with weaponry and his armor had been reinforced beyond anything I was familiar with to the point that he looked more like a walking tank. Thicker steel plates and reactive armor had been affixed to every spare bit of metal not occupied by a weapon. I could see the barrel of a minigun over one shoulder and his battle saddle was outfitted with both a missile launcher and what looked like an autocannon if I wasn’t mistaken.

“It doesn’t really matter to me whose hoof I catch in the cookie jar,” the Ranger replied. “I was duly informed that the thief made his way here and I fully intend on reclaiming my stolen property. Retribution is my tasty dessert.”

“Well murder can’t be the only thing on your mind because I’m not in the middle of helping you give the wall a new coat of paint.”

“Not yet,” the Ranger shot back. “You and I are going to have a quick little chat, understand? I’m in no mood for games today. If you’re cooperative I’ll just leave you here to rot. If you try and give me the runaround they’ll need a squeegee to scrape what’s left of you into a bucket. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” I said, doffing my cap and tossing it into a dark corner of the room. Leaning up against the table, I crossed my forehooves and gave the Ranger my attention. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve been in this exact position in the last seventy-two hours.”

“My heart weeps,” the Ranger said dryly.

“Really, now,” I quipped before he could continue, “My memory’s a little fuzzy but I could’ve sworn the Tin Pony had a little trouble getting his hooves on one of those.”

My smirk disappeared faster than snow on a sweltering summer day when the Ranger’s minigun spooled up. My breath caught in my throat waiting for the muzzle flash that would herald my messy demise but it never came. Instead my focus was redirected to the whine of the minigun’s motor as the barrel assembly continued churning.

“You just used up your freebie so I hope it was worth it,” the Ranger said mirthlessly. “Try my patience one more time and see what happens.”

“You’ve got my undivided attention, big guy.”

“Good,” the Ranger grunted with a nicker. “I’m not after your life story. I’m not interested in what you stole from me or what you intended to do with it. I couldn’t care less why you did what you did, whether it was for money or valuables or to earn somepony’s trust. Likewise, knowing how long you’ve been skulking around under my nose does me no good. I want you to tell me, in no uncertain terms, who it is you’re really working for.”

“Uh, you mean right at this very moment or ultimately?” I answered uncertainly. “Because technically I’m contracted out to two people right now, it’s sort of a complicated situation I’ve landed myself in.”

“Why are you here?” the Ranger growled. “Under whose orders are you stealing data? Who are you retrieving that holodisk for?”

“His name is Vortex,” I said, holding a hoof up beside my ears. “A pegasus about my height, dark blue coat. He’s got a pair of lackeys in power armor and they operate out of an old Lightspeed bottling plant. I don’t really know much beyond the fact that they’re a rogue cell camouflaged as an Enclave—”

“Don’t fuck with me!” the Ranger bellowed, and I cringed as a burst of minigun fire punched through the mirror and whizzed past my head close enough to make the hairs in my mane sway. “I told you not to try my patience. My next burst is headed for center mass and I’m not fussy about ammo consumption. You better believe I won’t let up off the trigger until you’re nothing but a pile of mush. I will ask you one final time. Who are you working for?”

“I told you, you brainless piece of shit!” I shouted back, too afraid and pissed off by now to be concerned with the consequences. “I’m playing fetch for some asshole named Vortex who I’m pretty sure is going to dick me over!”

“That’s horseapples,” the Ranger said. “You’re a real shitty liar. I’ve been working alongside Vortex for months now. Vortex was the one who told me to be here waiting for you. Why on Celestia’s green earth would he put one of his own on the chopping block? I’ll tell you why. Because you’re a goddesses-damned rat and the pleasure of dispensing with you is a very generous gift from my business partner.”

“You’re a moron if you think he’s being straight up with you,” I murmured. “You’re just as much a pawn on the board as I am. I can tell the guy is playing me like a fiddle but I don’t have a choice but to play along.”

“Which brings us to the matter of your untimely death,” the Ranger replied. “I—” He paused mid-sentence and cocked his head to the side. I could hear a tinny voice from the other side of the mirror and I guessed it was his radio. “This better be good, I’m in the middle of something. What? What? Who are the instigators? How many?” There was a brief pause during which I heard the muted sounds of gunfire and explosions issuing from the Ranger’s radio. “Dig in, we’ll force a retreat or kill them. I won’t be ousted by a bunch of bleeding hearts. I’ll be there shortly, I just have to wrap up some unfinished business.”

A sound comparable to tearing fabric cut through the silence a moment later. Bullets and a rain of glass shards cascaded towards me too quick for me to react. I gasped and stumbled backward when I felt sledgehammers strike me with the force of approximately one million freight trains. All strength oozed out of me and I made a desperate grab for the table to prop myself up, but to no avail. My bloody hoof slipped free of the wood surface and I crashed to the floor where I huddled in a broken heap.

“Vortex sends a message,” the Ranger said after his minigun had wound down, “Let freedom ring.”

I laid there on the floor for stars only knew how long. Bleeding, broken and too distracted by pain to concentrate on getting myself to somepony that could help. My breath came in shuddering rasps and I could feel my wounds throb with every beat of my heart. My thoughts grew more and more clouded as time passed. Pain lessened somewhat as I grew wearier. I even started to hallucinate towards the end and I could’ve sworn I heard a voice talking to me.

"Storch? Wo bist du, Storch?" Hey, that sounded kinda like Tess. “Antworte mir falls du meine Stimme hörst! Shout, please!”

I made an attempt to call out but the only thing that made it out of my mouth was a gurgling howl of pain. By some stroke of luck it was enough of a sound to home in on. Minutes later I felt powerful digits grasp me and haul me up to my hooves. I swayed but didn’t fall as Tess threw one of my legs around her neck and held me up with her shoulders. On my other side a different griffon did the same and they started carrying my half-dead ass out.

“Wh-What took you so long,” I mumbled drunkenly. “I’m only dying here.”

“Schweigen, dummkopf,” Tess chastised. “Save your energy. You are not dying before you can give your report to Krieg, kapiert? The Spire is not far. Hold on for just a few more minutes.”

“Jawohl, frau Shadowclaw,” I slurred drunkenly.

Agreeing to cling to life was simple enough but actually complying was another thing entirely. I had no strength left. I was running on empty and I’d been doing so for days now. Most of my blood was now outside of my body and all I could think about was how great sleep sounded. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead and despite my best efforts they ultimately drooped closed.


*		*		*


“I wasn’t looking at your butt, I swear!” I shouted when my eyes snapped open again. Probably the very first thing I noticed was that I felt exceptionally comfortable. A little sore, but for the most part quite cozy. I also wasn’t dead, which was either a plus or utter misery depending on how one chose to look at it. “Stars, what a butt, though. Whew.”

“Erm…” the familiar voice of Greaser came from my side. “I’ll not ask what that’s all about. Don’t go back to sleep, hey? I need to go fetch Razorbeak, he wanted to talk to you once you woke up.”

I watched after her for a moment as she departed before taking a look around. I’d been tucked into a princess-sized bed while I was unconscious. I barely had to turn my head to know I was in Greaser’s room. Much the same as the living room, junk and disassembled machines littered the floor around her bed. Blueprints and posters had been tacked up on her walls with no regard to spacing or straightness. In one corner was a desk with an unfinished project set atop it and unlaundered clothes sat in a heap by the door.

My mane crawled at the thought of meeting with Razorbeak again and I found myself hoping he wouldn’t murder an injured pony. Time dragged on while I waited for Greaser to return with the surly griffon and I started to wonder if he was taking his time on purpose just to make me squirm. I was just about to try and roll out of bed to find a bathroom when the door opened and the two of them filed in.

“I see you pulled through all right,” Razorbeak growled after a minute of tense silence.

“Um… yeah,” I responded lamely. “Yeah, I guess so. I suppose I have you to thank?”

“Among others,” Razorbeak said. “Tess says you were able to do what I asked you to, is that true?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Would you like me to fill you in now?”

“If Tess trusts you then that’s enough for me,” Razorbeak said, turning to leave. “Rest up for now. Take it easy for the rest of the day. You lost a lot of blood but none of the bullets hit anything vital. I topped you off with a transfusion but the wounds will take some more time to heal, light activity only. Do whatever you want tomorrow morning but be in my office by tomorrow afternoon for debrief. Got it?”

“B-Beg pardon?” I stammered.

“I told you healthcare didn’t come free, Red. You work for me now. Welcome to Obsidian.”

Holy shit.

I had a job.



Footnote: Level up.

Obsidian fame gained!
Accepted -  Mercenaries of the Obsidian PMC have come to accept you for your help investigating a security threat.
Sanctuary fame gained!
Neutral -  The citizens and merchants of Sanctuary aren't quite sure what to think of you yet.
Vortex's Rebels infamy gained!
Vilified -  You don't know what you did, but you're awful sure you're on somepony's blacklist for life.