When I awoke, an indeterminate amount of time had passed, and I was in unfamiliar surroundings. What was it with me falling unconscious all the time? Perhaps whatever had deprived me of my memories was also adversely affecting my ability to keep from passing out. Maybe, but there was no way to know for sure. Even if I were a real doctor, I would still need access to a working machine to scan my brain, and I didn’t imagine there were many of them laying around in the Wasteland. It was possible that there was one back at the MoP Hospital, but I didn’t relish returning to that ghoul-infested building any time soon.

I had more pressing concerns at the moment – figuring out how I’d escaped the horde of ghouls alive, and where I was now. Boxes and ammunition crates were stacked up around me, as well as miscellaneous junk that wouldn’t fit into any of the cases. I was lying on a dingy bedroll laid out in the middle of the narrow aisle between the stacks of goods. The floor and walls were wooden, as was the low ceiling, and the tiny room bounced around slightly, leading me to believe that I was in the back of a wagon.

I didn’t appear to be restrained in any way, so I probably hadn’t been captured by slavers, raiders, or anypony with the intention of turning me in to the Steel Rangers. My saddlebags were tucked away nearby, along with the rest of my gear, and nothing seemed to be missing. I gathered all of my things before heading for the divided door set into one wall and shoving the top panel open.

The wagon was rolling down a decrepit street in a part of Vanhoover I’d never seen before. The exteriors of the buildings here were especially bleached, and many of them looked like they’d had their windows blown out and tops torn off by force. There was no danger within sight, so I opened the lower panel of the door as well and stepped out onto the street. As I shut the door, I noticed that the wagon had been painted in bright, neon colors, much of which was covered by a dull gray tarp. Somepony wanted to draw attention to the wagon, but wisely not at the moment, when it could prove a tempting target for raiders.

“Well, lookie who’s finally awake,” the mare pulling the wagon quipped as I trotted around to the front.

My apparent rescuer had a white mane and tail with a chestnut coat, and a scar running from her cheek and across her neck. She was wearing a leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and a riot helmet without the visor. A pistol like the one I’d found in the Vanhoover Sports Center was in a holster at her side.

“What happened?” I asked her, hoping that she’d explain how I’d gotten here, as well as what her profession was, given that I couldn’t deduce it.

“Back in the hospital?” she asked, looking at me sideways as she continued to trot along, her wagon rolling behind her, “I saw you head in there and went in afterwards, figurin’ if there was anything that needed to be taken care of, you’d clear it out for me. When I heard shooting above, I figured you were done for, but it lasted awhile, so I thought I’d come up and take a look-see. After finishin’ off them ghouls what was piling on top of you, and seein’ you were still alive, I figured it’d be worth my while to get you out of there and patch you up.”

“Thank you for that. I didn’t think I was going to make it,” I said sincerely.

“Well, since you owe me for saving your life, I’m sure you won’t mind pulling the wagon the rest of the way,” the mare said as she stopped and detached herself from it.

“Um, well, I suppose,” I said, finding it hard to refuse, given that I really did owe the mare my life, “How much farther are you going?”

“Oh, not far at all,” the mare waved off my question as I tried to situate myself in the wagon’s harness, “We should be at Burnside within the hour.”

“Burnside!” I exclaimed.

“Why, do you have a problem with the town?” the mare asked.

“No, I’ve actually been trying to get to Burnside for the past few days.”

“Lucky for you I was there, then,” the mare replied, “And on my way back to my shop in Burnside. Name’s Price Slasher.”

“Doc,” I introduced myself as I started the wagon rolling again.

“That your real name?” Price Slasher asked skeptically.

“Is Price Slasher yours?” I replied. I’d heard some crazy names during my time in the Wasteland, but I found it hard to believe that her parents had had the foresight to name their daughter something so fitting for her profession as a merchant.

“Fair enough,” the mare conceded before changing subjects, “You’re going to like Burnside. It’s the trading capital of the Wasteland. Anythin’ you can think of, you can buy and sell in Burnside.”

“What makes you think I’ve never been there before?” I asked, picking up on her assumption.

“Please,” Price Slasher snorted, “You’ve got the look of somepony fresh outta the Stable. Now, you seem competent and able to handle yourself—I’m not sayin’ you aren’t—but your appearance still marks you as recently being a Stable-dweller. Speaking of which, you might want to consider removing or covering your PipBuck before we get to Burnside.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, looked down at my foreleg-mounted computer.

“Well, I can’t really turn you in to the Steel Rangers, what with all the magical weapons I’ve got, and most of Burnside wouldn’t deal with them anyway, but there’s some that would sell you out for those fifteen thousand caps.” Price Slasher said, “You’ve got to understand, they’re offering a fortune for you, and not everypony can turn down such an opportunity.”

“They might get a rude surprise if they take it,” I said, “The last time somepony tried to turn me in to the Steel Rangers, they’d put mines in with the caps.”

“Oh!” Price Slasher said, looking shocked, “Well, that should be enough to deter ponies from taking the risk, but you never know.”

She was probably right. It seemed like nopony in Vanhoover really trusted the Steel Rangers, but sometimes that didn’t matter. The bounty they’d placed on me was sizeable, even more so than I’d originally thought. Raiders with any sense were more than willing to chase and capture me, and for slavers it was only natural; now, I was headed to a town with ponies who would consider selling me for caps. All things considered, I’d had it pretty easy so far when it came to settlements; all of them either despised the Steel Rangers, the idea of selling a pony, or both. Burnside seemed to be a bit looser, but the mysterious pony in Stable 57 had said to go here, and I continued to believe that the stranger had my best interests in mind. Maybe I would finally meet them in this town I knew little about apart from the name. There would be only one way to find out.

Price Slasher was true to her word, and the gates of Burnside came into sight within the hour. To get there, we had to follow a very specific path through the ruins of Vanhoover. At about the same time that my PipBuck’s radiation counter began to click out a warning, metal pylons emanating a slight buzz appeared in rows on either side of the street. Burnside had been on the very edge of the Vanhoover Crater, Price Slasher explained, but was protected from the blast and the balefire radiation by pylons like the ones that now carved out a path to the former prison. A few guards were posted on the road that ran straight as an arrow to the town, in order to deter any raiders from attempting a foolish frontal assault.

The last stretch of the path was clear of buildings on either side. In fact, it was clear of everything. The Vanhoover Crater stretched off to the north and south, and a smaller hole lined the edge, with only a narrow strip of land and Burnside itself untouched. Price Slasher claimed that this crater had been made by the town to make it even harder to attack, using explosives intended to destroy the prison. If that was true, then there had been enough explosives planted to destroy the prison several times over.

I was still pulling Price Slasher’s wagon as we approached the gates of Burnside. As the merchant had recommended, my PipBuck was now concealed by bandages. There were plenty wrapped around the rest of me, so I hoped they wouldn’t look out of place. Burnside was built like a fortress, and even without the radiation and sheer drop surrounding it, it would have been a formidable place to assault. A heavy gate set into a doorway large enough for an auto-carriage (or a merchant’s wagon) to pass through barred our way. Above it hung a banner with “BURNSIDE” written on it, in case anypony found their way here accidentally, but I could still see parts of the location’s previous name underneath. According to other signs I’d seen along the route, Burnside had once been the Sawthorn Correctional Institute. Of course, that had been before a megaspell had struck practically next door to the facility. Their new name was much more fitting.

“Well, well, well, look who made it back,” a stallion in security barding said as he stepped through the smaller door set into the gate, “I see no manticores or hellhounds have gotten you yet.”

“Despite all your hopeful thinking,” Price Slasher jabbed back, “So, you gonna open the gate for us or what, Jade?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said disinterestedly as he motioned to somepony on the other side of the gate, “I see you roped somepony else into dragging your junk in for you.”

“I saved his life out there,” Price Slasher said as the gate slowly opened, and Jade snorted disbelief before I nodded affirmation, causing his expression changed.

“Make sure you see the Regulators once you’re inside,” Jade said with all seriousness.

“I know how things work here,” Price Slasher said as she rolled her eyes, “I’ve only lived here the past twenty-two years of my life.”

Jade stepped back as the gate finished opening, and we walked into Burnside, the wagon still rolling along behind me. The outer wall of Burnside was square, with guard towers situated at the corners and at regular intervals. Within that enclosure was a prison yard surrounding the prison building itself, an unpleasant-looking structure with eight wings pointed in the cardinal and intercardinal directions. One of those wings was practically nonexistent, the materials from it cannibalized to create the many smaller structures that filled the former prison yard. It was much like Sundale, where a central pre-War building was surrounded by smaller buildings built from scrap by Wastelanders in their endless creativity and pragmatism. One other pre-War building resided within the walls of Burnside, built against one of the exterior walls. During the War, it had probably been the offices of the warden and quarters for the guards.

“You can drop the wagon off here,” Price Slasher said as we came alongside a shop with her name painted over it, “Go take care of any business you have, then come back here when you’re done. I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

Unhitching the wagon, I wandered off into the marketplace of Burnside. Truly, there wasn’t much else to Burnside but the marketplace; it was a trading city like no other. As I’d come to expect, most stores sold a certain type of goods, but the diversity was found in just how many shops filled the former prison. Across them all, I doubted there was anything that wasn’t sold in Burnside. Weapons both mundane and magical, protective barding all the way up to Equestrian Army issue and even one set of mechanized armor like the Steel Rangers, food (both pre-packaged centuries earlier and grown fresh from all across Vanhoover), combat drugs to ostensibly increase your strength or reaction time, two-headed cattle like the ones I’d seen merchants in The Strip using to transport goods, formal and casual attire (mostly) spared the ravages of the War and time, protective robots and guns-for-hire, decorative paintings and light fixtures; you could buy anything here!

I started my adventure into Burnside trade by selling the saddlebags I’d been given in Stable 85. The hiking saddlebags I’d picked up in Sorceress Plaza had greater capacity, so it was easy to give them up, even if they were a reminder of the Stable I’d come from. I still had my Stable jumpsuit, doctor’s coat, and PipBuck (of course), and there was no way I’d abandon those, so I still had something to remind me of Velvet and Charity’s sacrifice.

The next thing I did with the caps at my disposal was to stock up on ammunition, especially for my new submachinegun, which chewed through bullets much faster than my pistol ever had. Burnside’s traders had no shortage of ammunition, even the rare magical energy cells I needed for my magical energy rifle. I was able to make a deal with the pony selling them by trading them for the ammunition I’d picked up in the BRAMM office but had no use for.

“… and remember children, that we must all stand tall and stand strong against the forces of the Wasteland that seek to destroy us outright or lead us astray, which may be the worse fate,” I heard the voice of DJ Pon3 come from a nearby radio as I trotted through Burnside, “Even the Steel Rangers, who proclaim loudly that their intentions are benign, engage in practices more fitting for slavers or raiders. Do not be lead astray by their offer of caps for a life and so give in to those practices yourself. But this action need not be a passive refusal; it can be a forceful rejection of their way! How, you may ask me. If you see anypony with a PipBuck, do just the opposite of what greed would compel you to do; help them! They’re out there, otherwise the Steel Rangers would not still be insisting that they be sold like slaves to them, and one of them is the Stable-dweller I’ve spoken to you about from time to time. If you see this stallion in his yellow coat, help him to escape from the Steel Rangers, and any who would turn him in for a prize …”

Usually, DJ Pon3’s messages were full of hope and goodness, and this one was no exception, but a dark thought also occurred to me as the radio host was speaking. I’d been identified by the DJ as a pony to help, which was good, but also as a pony with a PipBuck, which was not so good. Ponies who had heard the radio broadcasts would know me by my doctor’s coat, and it wouldn’t be hard to make the connection that I had a PipBuck, despite my efforts to conceal it. Remembering Price Slasher’s warning that there were ponies in Burnside who wouldn’t balk at turning me in to the Steel Rangers for caps, I ducked behind some shops the first chance I got and removed my coat, tucking it into my saddlebags. I figured that my Stable jumpsuit was fine, since I’d seen some for sale in the shops around. So far as I remembered, DJ Pon3 had never named the exact Stable I’d come from, so the number on my back wouldn’t give me away.

I wandered around Burnside some more, and nopony seemed to pay me much attention to me except when they wanted to sell me something, so my ploy appeared to have worked. After circling the town and finding nothing else I wanted to buy, I returned to Price Slasher’s shop. Unlike many of the merchants of Burnside, Price Slasher had a shop large enough for ponies to walk into and browse her collection instead of doing business through a hole in the wall. The shop was empty of customers at the moment, so I approached the owner and asked about the favor she’d mentioned earlier.

“Ah, yes; considerin' where I rescued you, I’d say it’s safe to assume you have no problem with scavengin’ in ruins?” Price Slasher said.

“I suppose so,” I replied warily, “Why?”

“Well, obviously the goods in my shop don’t just appear here by magic; I have to scavenge for them,” she said as she gestured to the shelves of assorted supplies around her, “Thing is, the more time I spend scavengin’, the less time I have to sell the things I’ve scavenged.”

“And that’s where I come in?” I asked, thinking I followed where she was going.

“That’s right,” Price Slasher replied, “There’s a Super-Mega-Ultra-Store nearby that I know hasn’t been scavenged, but I don’t really have the time to go out and do it myself. I was hoping you’d do me a favor and take a look-see, bringin’ back anything you find that I could sell here.”

“I . . . suppose I could do that,” I said with a little hesitation. She had saved my life, so how could I refuse? Maybe this was even what the mysterious pony had meant for me to do upon reaching Burnside. It was work, after all.

“I appreciate it,” Price Slasher said, “Now, it’s not far. If you come back the way we came and follow the railroad tracks north, then follow the river . . . Or, I guess I could just mark it on your PipBuck.”

“You know how to work one of these things?” I asked as she fiddled with the dials and added a new location to my map.

“I’ve had some . . . experience . . . with a PipBuck in the past,” Price Slasher said, but didn’t offer any other information.

Whatever her experience been, she was familiar enough with the PipBuck’s operation that I soon had a new location and a new objective on my map of Vanhoover: Super-Mega-Ultra-Store.

It was obvious how Price Slasher knew that nopony had scavenged the mall-sized store. Through my binoculars, I could see four raiders patrolling the parking lot, and there were sure to be more inside. At least, I found it hard to believe that four raiders alone had managed to capture, torture, and display all the Wastelanders whose bodies I saw hanging from the store’s front. Just how many were within the store was concerning. I could probably take out the ones outside, but scavenging within a raider’s den would be difficult if there were more than three in any one place. Maybe I could manage if I kept them separated, but there was no guarantee that that would be possible.

Putting my binoculars away, I stared down at the raiders in the parking lot through the scope of Meadowsweet’s sniper rifle instead. I’d told Price Slasher that I would scavenge in the store for her, and I still intended to do so, if possible. However, I wasn’t going to rush into certain death for her. That would be ironic, since I was only doing this because she’d saved my life.

First, I would begin with the raiders in the parking lot, since I had a good vantage point atop the hill and could probably snipe them all before they found me. Maybe a few would even leave the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store and become targets as well, as long as I didn’t attract all of them. As good as my position was, it couldn’t hold out against endless waves of raiders.

I cast SATS as I lined up my first shot, knowing that it really would be impossible to accomplish my goals completely unaided. With the help of the spell, my first bullet was right on course, entering a raider’s forehead and exiting through their mane. There was enough time left before the spell wore off to line up another target and fire, though this one shaved through the raider’s spine instead of her head.

It didn’t take long after time snapped back to normal for the other raiders to notice that their numbers had been depleted by two. Fortunately, instead of trying to figure out where the shots had come from, they rushed to the bodies of their dead comrades. This made it easy to target them, but my first two shots missed, and they began to look around to try and locate me. My third shot hit, knocking another raider down and leaving only one left in the parking lot, who was beginning to look worried. His shouts carried up the hill to me, but I couldn’t make out any of the words.

Evidently his yelling attracted some of the raiders within the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, because another came into view before I managed to silence him. The original four raiders were dead, but now there were two more in the parking lot with slightly clearer heads. One of their heads became even clearer as I used SATS to blast his brain across the parking lot. The other now knew where I was, and ducked out of my sight behind a mail drop box.

I knew it was probably futile, but I attempted to shoot the raider through the mailbox; even though some of my shots penetrated, none caused the red mark on my EFS to vanish. I ducked down in surprise as a bullet passed over me and struck the irradiated tree behind me, causing a branch to snap and fall. The raiders had a sniper of their own now. I moved behind a park bench to get some cover, and observed the parking lot again. There were three living raiders down there now, and the third set up a tripod before rushing back to the store. The raider reappeared a second later dragging the remaining part of the minigun. There was no way I’d survive if the raider set that up, so I took a chance and exposed myself, firing rounds from my sniper rifle at the mare until she went down.

The sniper’s round deflected off the top of my helmet, leaving a gouge, and I ducked back down. Another shot struck the park bench a few seconds later. The sniper knew where I was now, and was getting better with his aim. SATS might be enough to take him out before he got me, but it was a risky gamble. Instead, I waited until he fired again – this shot narrowly missing the bench – and galloped toward the nearest cover, which happened to be another park bench. Again I waited for him to fire, and again I ran for the next park bench as soon as he did.

The steep hill leading down to the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store had a staircase carved into it to allow easy movement down to it, and I was now near the top of the stairs. It was still a long way down, but fortunately a sign advertising the store had fallen from its pillar halfway down the stairs, which would provide decent cover. As soon as the sniper fired again, I took off down the slope, skipping as many steps as I dared. I had farther to go now than in my previous sprints, and I almost didn’t manage to jump out of the way in time as the sniper lined up his rifle on me. Rolling the last ten paces, I came to a stop behind the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store sign.

I’d strapped my sniper rifle to my back before beginning my evasive maneuvers and now drew out my submachine gun. After the raider fired again, I levitated my SMG around the corner of the sign and sprayed in his direction. Hearing expletives shouted in pain, I stepped out from behind the sign and finished the raider off.

I quickly ducked back behind the sign as the raider I’d last left behind the mail drop box fired at me with his own submachine gun. His weapon went silent for a few seconds, and I was about to venture a look when a metal apple without its stem bounced up the slope and behind my cover. I quickly kicked it away and ran in the opposite direction, still feeling the force of the explosion behind me. Jumping out from behind the other side of the sign, I entered SATS and fired my SMG repeatedly at the raider until he fell, his gun dropping from his mouth.

My EFS alerted me of a few more raiders inside the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, but they didn’t seem very active at the moment, so they must not have been aware what was going on. It looked safe to recover supplies and ammunition from the raiders I’d killed, but I kept my submachine gun out just in case. I was able to recover a few sniper rounds as well as some for my hunting rifle, but unfortunately nothing for my SMG. Even though the last raider I’d killed had a very similar weapon, it used rounds just a hair smaller than the ones my SMG needed.

Once I’d finished looting my kills, I headed cautiously toward one set of front doors of the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store. The glass in the sliding doors was long shattered, but they still slid to the side as I approached them. Immediately within the store were a couple Sparkle~Cola vending machines, and I used one as makeshift cover as I looted it for the few remaining bottles of the soft drink. When I began looting the other one, I discovered that it had been stocked (by the raiders) with metal apples, which I happily took for myself.

It was dark in the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, but I encountered no raiders initially as I ventured in, though their handiwork was everywhere. Senseless destruction and mutilation was all around me, making me doubt if anything useful here had survived for Price Slasher to sell. Still, I continued on, past a makeshift living area and cash registers that I looted for Bits. Shelves stretched off into the distance as I moved deeper in, and I began to hear the sounds of living raiders.

Abundant pre-packaged food on the shelves made it tempting to start loading up and get out of there, but I didn’t feel safe doing so until no more raiders were around. I spotted a security office ahead, which was likely to have some armaments useful for dealing with them. Unfortunately, I could see a raider patrolling near it, and my EFS told me that there was a group of them nearby. It would be impossible to sneak by to the security office without alerting them.

I crept up on the lone raider, my machete floating nearby. It was a tense few seconds as I moved along nearly silently, watching out for tin cans and wastepaper that could give me away if I stepped on them. In the end, my stealthy advance was compromised by the raider turning to the side. By reflex, I cast SATS and time slowed to a crawl as I launched myself toward the sentry. I saw recognition in the stallion’s eyes as he spotted me and tried to bring his weapon around, but he was too slow. My machete struck his neck, carving through the flesh until it struck his spine.

Time snapped back to normal, and the raider gave out a gurgling cry as he fell to the ground. The other raiders, gathered around a fire, jumped up at the noise, reaching for their weapons. Spinning toward them, I pulled the stem from a metal apple I’d picked up at the Sparkle~Cola machine and threw it in their direction. The explosion killed most of them instantly, and I finished off the one that didn’t with my SMG before she could crawl to her weapon.

My EFS told me only of direction, not distance, but I was confident that there were no more raiders nearby. Even so, there were some still in the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, and it would have been impossible for them not to have heard the explosion, so I had limited time before more were on top of me. I jumped over the low counter of the security station, and got to work on the door to the interior office.

The lock was difficult, and I broke several bobby pins trying to get it open. I snapped another one as bullets started flying past my head. I hadn’t expected the raiders to close in on me so fast, but apparently seeing the scattered bits of their comrades had sufficiently motivated them. I tried to keep my head down and broke several more bobby pins, but eventually I was successful and the door popped open. I was hit in the hindquarters twice as I squeezed inside, and had to pull myself the rest of the way.

Before doing anything else, I locked the door from the inside to keep the raiders out. I then saw to my injured flank, removing the bullets from the wounds before chugging down a healing potion. Gritting my teeth as the flesh repaired itself magically, I looked around the security office. There were plenty of weapons here, as I’d expected, but nothing surprising or with the power needed to help me fend off the raiders. I did swap my hunting rifle for a model that wasn’t half falling apart and covered in duct tape, and stocked up on ammunition, but that was all I took.

The most interesting part of the room was a large pod about the size of a pony next to a desk with a terminal. Judging by the lights coming from them, they were both still powered. The pod had a window on the front at eye level, and out of curiosity I brushed the dust off. I nearly jumped back upon coming face-to-face with a robot like the one I’d encountered at the MAS Hub. This one looked slightly lower-tech, with less shine on its metallic skin and energy rifles mounted to its back instead of internally. I wondered if this robot also had a pony’s brain instead its domed head.

I was brought back to the moment by the sound of raiders banging on the office door. Looking around, I concluded that there was no other way out of the office and I was trapped. The door was sturdy, but it wouldn’t hold forever, especially if the raiders decided to get smart and use explosives. I moved over to the desk and began to hack the terminal. Maybe the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store had auto-turrets that I could activate them from here. It turned out that it didn’t, but I did have the option of activating the robot next to me. I bit my lip, trying to decide if it was worth it to let the robot out and possibly have it kill me as well. A muffled detonation from outside the office that bent the door made my decision for me.

“No! You’ll never blow it down like that! Let me!” a raider’s voice carried in from outside.

I tapped a key, and the terminal began to rapidly issue commands. As the lights on the robot’s faceplate lit up in sequence, I ran to the other end of the room and ducked down behind a table. The robot whirred to life, and it began to move as the pod slid open. As it stepped out of the pod, an explosion shook the office and the door flew across the room. Raiders swarmed through the gap a moment later.

“Halt!” the robot ordered in its electronic voice, “You have damaged company property. Submit now, or force will be used.”

A short, spindly raider at the front of the crowd laughed and swung a sharpened shovel at the robot’s neck. Except, the robot had no neck, and the shovel did no more than scratch its metallic skin. Without warning, the robot’s foreleg came up, throwing the raider against a wall, breaking multiple bones and snapping his spine. The other raiders backed up a little.

“You are trespassing,” the robot addressed the crowd, “Remove yourselves from the premises or deadly force will be used. Flim-Flam Incorporated, Conglomerated, Amalgamated will not be held responsible for any injury or loss of life. You have 10 seconds to comply. 10 … 9 …”

The raiders didn’t wait for the robot to finish counting down, and attacked with angry yells. Upon being attacked, the robot ceased its countdown and immediately fired upon the raiders with its magical energy rifles. Beams of light lanced into the group, and many of them were turned into piles of glowing pink ash. When no more raiders remained alive, the robot looked around for a bit, and I tried very hard to remain hidden. When its guns began firing, I thought I was done for, but soon I heard the robot walking out of the office and I came out of hiding. Even fewer raiders remained on the floor now, the robot having used its rifles to cut a path through the piles of bodies by turning them into ash.

My caution was not unwarranted, though; the automaton was marked as hostile on my EFS. There were quite a few other hostile contacts on my EFS as well. Now that I was within the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, the spell was picking up all the raiders inside, and I saw that it would have been suicide to fight them all on my own. I heard yelling from outside the office, followed by the sound of an energy rifle being fired repeatedly, and a group of red dots winked out.

I kept a close eye on my EFS as I ventured out of the security office and followed the robot’s path of destruction. The downside of the robot using magical energy blasts on the raiders was that there was little left to recover loot-wise from the piles of ash, though occasionally there would miraculously be something that didn’t get incinerated. I began to look at the shelves more and figure out what would be good to bring back to Price Slasher as the threats on my EFS quickly dwindled until only one remained.

“You are trespassing,” the robot’s electronic voice caught me by surprise while I was looking at a shelf half-filled with emergency radios, “Remove yourself from the premises or deadly force will be used. Flim-Flam Incorporated, Conglomerated, Amalga-”

Once I realized that the robot was behind me, I hoofed it as quickly as possible to get some distance before firing my submachine gun back at it. As before, upon being attacked, the robot ceased its spiel and opened fire at me. I ducked back behind a set of shelves, watching the automaton’s location on my EFS. In the brief look I’d gotten, I’d seen that the raiders had managed to inflict some damage to it, but nothing substantial. It was tougher than the one I’d encountered at the MAS Hub.

I backed away and opened fire with my magical energy rifle as it rounded the shelves. A few of my shots struck it, but they either bounced away or burned small inconsequential holes in the robot’s metallic skin. Once it was in a position to shoot me, I jumped out of the way again, using the shelves as cover. The robot moved intelligently, peeking around the shelves instead of following me, and I was forced to find new cover.

I ducked behind a stand covered in dusty canteens and pulled a metal apple from my saddlebags. Magical energy beams lanced all around me, vaporizing canteens, as I judged the distance and threw the metal apple. It rolled across the store floor and exploded a second later, the blast accompanied by the satisfying sound of rending metal. I jumped out of cover and entered SATS, quickly targeting the legless automaton on the ground. I let loose with my SMG, detaching the magical energy rifle that hadn’t been taken off in the blast from the body. I must have also hit the robot’s power plant, because its lights flickered out moments later.

Cautiously, I approached the machine, half-believing that it wasn’t really dead despite what my EFS said. It tipped over when I gave it a kick, and I finally allowed myself to relax. I stood there for a few moments, putting off what I knew I had to do, before giving in and crouching next to the robot’s head. Did this robot have a pony’s brain inside? Had I just ended a life for the second time? I popped the top of the dome off, but thankfully all that was inside were circuit boards and wires. So, had the pony-brain-controlled robot been an MAS experiment? I would have to return to the MAS Hub later to find out for sure. For now, I needed to gather up all the supplies I could carry.

“Excellent work!” Price Slasher praised me as I presented my find to her.

Not knowing what she’d wanted, I’d brought back a little bit of everything, which fit since her shop sold a little bit of everything. The trick was getting it from the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store to Burnside. I had found a shopping cart in decent shape and loaded it up with food, weapons, ammunition, medicine, radios, clothing, and anything else I could think of. I’d even thrown a few tents from the camping section into the cart, keeping one for myself. It was a bit of a pain getting the shopping cart up the slope by the store, but I’d managed, and hadn’t encountered any resistance on the way back that would cause me to abandon my prizes.

“I’m glad you like this stuff, but it would have been nice if you’d told me about the raiders,” I said.

“I hope they weren’t too much of a problem,” Price Slasher said as she catalogued the items in the shopping cart.

“Well, they did very nearly kill me,” I said, feeling that she wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“I was sure you could handle it,” the mare said, her attention still on the cart, “I never saw very many raiders there.”

“That’s because they were inside,” I protested, “There must’ve been forty at least.”

“And you took them on yourself?” Price Slasher asked, her attention caught finally, “If I’d known there were that many, I’d have sent you somewhere safer. Speaking of which, I have another favor to ask you. I need you to recover some petrol for me from a fuel station not far from here.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I protested, “Another favor? I appreciate that you saved my life, but how many more favors are you going to ask of me because of that?”

“Just this one,” Price Slasher replied.

“And how can I be sure of that?”

“Because it’s the law,” Price Slasher said as she trotted around behind her sales counter and produced a sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” I asked as I trotted over.

“It’s the Regulators’ estimation of what you owe me for saving your life,” Price Slasher said as if that was the most sensible thing in the world.

I looked at the page incredulously, reading the words printed finely by a machine.

Presiding Regulator: Hollow Point
Party A: Price Slasher
Party B: Doc (more records needed)

Goods & Services Provided by Party A
(1) Saved life of Party B (see Note1 below)

Goods & Services Provided by Party B
(1) Pulled wagon of Party A to Burnside
(2) ! TO BE PAID ! (see Note2 below)
(3) ! TO BE PAID ! (see Note2 below)

Notes
Note1: Given the circumstances of the situation, the Presiding Regulator has determined that saving the life of Party B should be repaid by three (3) favors for Party A.
Note2: Party A may choose any favors they deem fit for Party B to fulfill so long as they do not lead to certain death, debasement, or indentured servitude.

“This seems kind of cruel, making a pony repay what should have been a kind gesture,” I said as I looked up from the printed page.

“This is Burnside, a trading city. Nothin’ is free here; that’s just the way things are,” Price Slasher said, with what seemed like it could be genuine sympathy, “Just be glad it was me that saved you. I’ve been easy on you with my favors. Some ponies would ask for your life in exchange for savin’ it, and the Regulators sometimes agree.”

“I’d . . . be their slave,” I said as I realized what she meant, and Price Slasher looked troubled.

“Yes, but you don’t have to worry about that with me,” she said, “You’ve already fulfilled two of my favors. Just do this last one, and both I and all of Burnside will consider your debt to me repaid for all time.”

“Well . . . okay,” I said tentatively. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

“This ought to be easier than dealin’ with the raiders at the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, at least,” Price Slasher said as she tucked my record of debt behind the counter, “Now, let me mark the location on your PipBuck.”

I had the fuel station in my sights, but I didn’t want to move in yet. Like the Super-Mega-Ultra-Store, this fuel station was not abandoned, or at least not as abandoned as Price Slasher had led me to believe. Eight ghouls were out front, shambling around pumps identical to the ones I’d seen at the fuel station in the forest north of Vanhoover. Many more irradiated corpses littered the ground around them, though I couldn’t be sure they were all dead, no matter what my EFS said.

Another reason I wasn’t moving in was that I needed to be careful with firearms around the fuel station. The pumps supplied petrol to the surface, and it was highly flammable. It explained how the auto-carriages I’d seen without boilers or magical energy reactors worked, but not why Price Slasher wanted the liquid so badly. Strapped over my flanks were two fuel cans I had been instructed to fill up and bring back. Thankfully, I’d seen no raiders on the way here; the last thing I wanted to do with nine gallons of flammable fuel strapped to my body was get in a firefight.

The zombies hadn’t seemed to have spotted me yet, and I wondered if I could snipe some of them with my hunting rifle if I was careful. In the end, I decided against it, and advanced toward the badly burned ponies with my machete alone. While I was still a little way off, I picked up a broken piece of the road and threw it at the nearest feral ghoul. It looked my way, it’s eyes seeming to glow slightly, and tried to growl/yell, instead sounding more like it was coughing.

I had plenty of time as the zombie ran toward me to ready my machete, and the freshly sharpened blade cut nicely through the creature’s neck. The sound of blade slicing flesh got the attention of the other ghouls, and they all turned their heads my way, breaking out in various kinds of coughing. I spun my machete around as the first one reached me, cutting it off at the knees and following up by stabbing through its softened skull.

Two more approached me at the same time, and I swung my machete around at the one on the right, striking the other with my PipBuck and knocking it to the ground. The zombie I’d swung the machete at tried to grab the blade with its teeth, but I slid the weapon swiftly to the side, taking a piece of the zombie’s cheek with it. I clubbed it in the side of the face with the machete’s hilt to disorient it before swinging the blade back around into its neck. It wasn’t enough to kill it, though, and I had to swing the machete into its body twice more before the walking corpse stopped moving.

The one I’d knocked down before was getting back up and I struck it again, some flesh sticking to my PipBuck this time, and moved toward the next zombie charging toward me. It had been a large pony during its life, and it had carried its considerable bulk into its undeath. For this, I felt justified in using a projectile weapon, and used my SMG to turn the ghoul’s head into mush.

I picked my machete back up off the sidewalk where I’d dropped it and swung it into the head of the next ghoul to charge me. The blade sliced through the side of the zombie’s head and into its brain, but didn’t make it all the way through, beginning to dull from its frequent use. It was still enough to kill the zombie, and the corpse slid off the blade and hit the pavement.

As I swung my machete at the next zombie, lodging it in the ghoul’s foreleg, I heard grunting from behind me. Sneaking a quick peek over my shoulder, I thrusted both my hind legs back and bucked the zombie I’d hit twice before off its hooves. The ghoul flew through the air and struck a lamppost, breaking its spine. It continued to growl at me, but no longer seemed able to move.

The zombie I’d stuck my machete in lifted a hoof and used it to keep me from withdrawing my blade. As it tried to chomp my muzzle off, I lowered my head. Pushing forward blindly, I jabbed my horn into the ghoul’s neck and jerked my head up. Ichor oozed into my mane as I tore the creature’s throat open and its lower jaw in half. A kick with my foreleg snapped one of its legs, and I pulled my machete out before using it to slice the zombie’s head off.

The last feral ghoul was on top of me now, and I backed off to provide myself with more space. As I tried to charge back toward the ghoul, I was pulled up short, and I turned to see that the ghoul against the lamppost had my tail clenched in its teeth. I turned swiftly back to face the mobile zombie moving in on me and held up my machete as it tried to strike me with its hooves. The blade cut into its forelegs, and with a little force I was able to push the machete all the way through. I brought my hooves down on the zombie’s head as it fell, weakening its skull before plunging my machete through.

Turning around, I used my machete to cut the zombie’s head off, even though it took three strikes to complete the job. Using the blade, I pried its teeth from my tail. Breathing heavily, I surveyed the field around me, but no more ghouls seemed to want to attack, which was just fine with me. I tried to wipe some of the ichor from my body as I retrieved the fuel cans and headed over to the fuel station.

“Excellent!” Price Slasher said when I delivered the petrol to her, “First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll report to the Regulators that you’ve fulfilled your debt to me.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, relieved that this 'favors' business was over, “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you want this fuel anyway?”

“All these lights and the pylons that keep this place safe from radiation have to get electricity from somewhere,” Price Slasher said as she hauled the cans behind her sale counter, “There’s a microspark reactor under the prison, but it can’t power everything. There’s still a few generators that need this stuff to run, so the Burnside government pays dearly for it.”

“How dearly?”

“Fifty caps a gallon last time they set the rate,” Price Slasher said.

Fifty caps per gallon certainly wasn’t pocket change. With the petrol I’d just retrieved for Price Slasher, she’d receive 450 caps. Considering that it really hadn’t been overly difficult to get it, that was a hefty score. To pay the same bounty the Steel Rangers were offering for me, I’d only need to bring back 300 gallons. Of course, transporting that much would be a massive difficulty all on its own, so it’d probably be best if I gave up on that idea.

“Well, you probably want to find a place to stay for the night, but before you leave I have something to ask you. Oh, don’t worry, it’s not a favor. You’ll be paid,” Price Slasher said as my face darkened, “I’ve got a package to deliver to the Republic of Rose, and I was hoping you could take it for me. I was paid part of the price up front, but the rest is to be paid on delivery. If you deliver it, you can keep that amount.”

“Well . . . all right,” I said, figuring that I wouldn’t have many better opportunities to start doing jobs here like the mysterious pony in Stable 57 had advised me to.

“Perfect! Come on by in the morning, and I’ll give you the package and directions. For now, find a place to sleep and – word of advice – you might want to take a bath,” Price Slasher said as she scrunched up her nose.

Level Up
New Perk: Pyromaniac – Magical energy weapons now have a 5% chance of igniting the target.
Weapon added: Hunting Rifle
Equipment added: Tent (1- pony) – provides shelter against the elements for a single pony in a single bedroll
New Quest: A Rose by Any Other Name – Deliver Price Slasher’s package to the Republic of Rose
Barter +1 (14)
Energy Weapons +1 (26)
Explosives +2 (26)
Lockpick +1 (43)
Medicine +1 (30)
Melee Weapons +4 (17)
Science +1 (61)
Small Guns +5 (61)
Sneak +1 (41)
Unarmed +3 (20)