Four hours, that's how long it had been since that bitch of a horse stole my ute, my vodka, and all the rest of my shit.
I swore when I found her I would make her pay. I was currently walking in the direction I’d last seen her. There was no way I'd catch her while she was driving, but I kept walking hoping I'd find her and my ute when she stopped.
My intoxicated state had worn off, my anger burning up most of it. I probably still had too much alcohol in my blood to legally drive, but my head was clear, and all I could think about now was her.
She could have been anywhere. But I kept walking in the same general direction hoping for a lead when I picked up a scent close by. Odd, I thought, unless Triple had stopped somewhere. I so hoped she’d stopped somewhere.
I let my nose lead me; it seemed there were certain perks to being a dragon.
Follow me, I'll show you that pesky pony went and then we'll make her pay.
So here I was hunting my prey instinctually like a predator. I looked at my claws and my teeth in a nearby puddle. I could do some serious damage with these.
I can teach you how to use them. How to rip apart that pony who stole from us.
I shook the gruesome thoughts out of my head. I wouldn't kill Triple, that would be going too far. I'd just maim. Seriously maim. Put her within an inch of death. She needed to apologise to me first. Then maybe I'll kill her…
Yes! Do it! Crush her. Break her skull. Break all the bones! Feast on her flesh!!!
Or maybe not. Just maiming. Or something.
As I continued on her trail, no more violent thoughts of revenge surfaced, but I did start to wonder where someone like Triple might choose to hide.
Sniff. Sniff. The scent had gotten stronger. So strong, in fact, it almost made my eyes water.
I was clearly on the right track. My eyes scanned the area. Pony, pony, pony. Where was she? Sound. I heard a sound, electricity perhaps? I was confused: all the houses I’d been to so far didn’t have any power. What could possibly be making the electricity?
Now I followed my ears. Vastly improved hearing seemed to be another perk of being a dragon; maybe being a dragon wasn't so bad after all….
As I got closer I heard it was an engine: a double exhaust note I'd recognise anywhere. It was music to my ears, that beautiful sound. She was close.
I started running, my powerful dragon legs pushing me faster than I could ever hope to run as a human. I got on all fours and broke into a sprint, I was gaining on her I knew it.
A shelter of some kind came into view, skeletons of cars strewn around it like a junkyard or a warning to stay away. It looked out of place in this neighbourhood of nice, modern suburban houses. Even after a year the houses looked the same, albeit a bit dilapidated and overgrown. This shelter stood out like a sore thumb.
I continued to run when I heard a loud noise: my poor baby screaming in pain. They were going to destroy my ute if they kept running her like that. Why? What kind of monster would do this to such a defenseless and beautiful ute?
I got mad.
Yes!
I was filled with rage.
YES!
I ran towards the sound faster than ever when I came upon my ute and Triple Distilled.
She never knew what hit her. I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, like a puppy being scolded. She screamed in surprise, her hooves flailing. The car stopped suddenly; she must’ve hit the keys in the ignition.
"N-Nat!?" Her eyes shrank to pinpricks, "H-how did you find me?"
I leered facetiously at her and leaning in close I whispered, "I followed my nose." Tapping my nose, I leaned over and looked into the driver side of my ute, where I saw something spilt on the floor, I could smell vodka. There would be hell to pay now.
"What’s this?" I asked, forcibly directing Triple's head to the mess on the floor.
"I-i-i-It was an a-a-accident," she said, shivering in fear.
"An accident?" I questioned, my voice full of venom. I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck again and rubbed her nose in it, like I was disciplining a misbehaving puppy.
“Bad pony. Bad, bad, bad," every time I said 'bad,' I shoved her face further into the mess.
I had probably gotten my point through to her by now, but I was having fun, so I pulled her out of the cab and dragged her all the way to the back and threw her in. She was too frightened to even try to escape. I got out the duct tape, and I taped her to the back wall of the tray. She is not going to move anymore. That was for certain.
"Stay here."
She nodded her head quickly, her eyes full of fear.
I went to check out the makeshift shelter. Maybe there were others with her.
That means more to kill. Or maim, as you like.
It also meant the possibility of more supplies.
I made my way inside the shelter, if you could call it that. It looked as though it could fall apart at any time, a whole heap of junk welded together in the shittiest way possible. Most of it was composed of car parts likely looted from the mass graveyard out front. I recognized some hoods from various models and makes of cars crafted into makeshift armour or camouflage.
Once inside, I heard a television playing what sounded like a familiar movie.
I slowly made my way to the TV, where I found a couch and a winged pony with light blue fur and a white mane that appeared to be matted to his head. The mark on his butt looked like a welding iron, and I supposed he was the one who had welded together the junk on the outside of this shelter. He was holding what looked like a crack pipe. Seriously? A crackhead pony?
He looked at me with a frown and said, “The fuck are you?” A bit too aggressive for my liking.
At his feet I saw a plastic bag of white rock-like things. The crack. He saw the direction of my gaze and knew what I was thinking. He started for the bag, but I was quicker. I grabbed the packet while simultaneously punching the crackhead in the face.
"Ow! You broke my nose!"
I wasn’t too concerned.
"You want this?" I toyed with him.
"Yes, very much. Please give it back." He sounded like he was missing a few teeth. It might have been my fault, but I wasn’t bothered by that possibility.
"You need to do something for me first," I said. I was extorting him, plain and simple. I wanted someone to keep an eye on Miss Purple in the back of my ute.
"What? What? I'll do anything! Just gimme back my crack!" He was really desperate to get his crack back, even sobbing at the end for extra effect.
"Good pony,” I said patronisingly. “What's your name though? I need to know what to call you."
He shakily raised a hoof gesturing to his crack pipe.
"Your name is Crack Pipe?" Seriously? What was with these stupid names?
He nodded, the fear apparent in his face.
My previous leering grin returned, "I have a special job for you."
He shrank back, but he was still interested in what I could need with a crackhead like him.
I brought him out to where my ute and my prisoner were. I heard him gasp, presumably from seeing Triple Distilled tied to the back of the tray. Seeing as they were both near the same shelter, they must’ve been acquainted, and that suited me just fine. I leaned down to his level.
"Now listen, your job is to make sure she doesn't escape." I said, pointing to Trip.
He looked a little apprehensive at the thought of betraying his friend, but I had leverage. I shook the bag of illicit drugs over his nose.
"Do it, or I'll get rid of your crack."
He thought about it and then nodded, somewhat reluctantly. He made his way to the tray of the ute and hopped up, taking a seat and watching Triple with sad eyes. I decided to give him some extra encouragement, so I walked up to him and smacked him in the back of the head, hoping he wouldn't get any wise ideas about being a hero.
Triple just stared at me, her eyes seething with hate. I pulled off a strip of duct tape and stuck it over her mouth to keep her quiet in case she tried to bargain with me. I was done, ready to leave and continue whatever I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted by a pony in the middle of the road.
I sat in my ute, in my nice form fitting seats with the cutout for my tail. So comfy. I took a deep, calming breath and then turned the key.
It didn't start. There were whirring and whining sounds coming from the engine. My temper was boiling. I got out and slammed the door. I was more than just pissed off, I was furious!
I swung myself up into the back, Crack Pipe staring at me with intense fear. I ignored him, my attention on Triple. I ripped the duct tape off her face, causing her to wince in pain, but I didn't care.
"What did you do to my ute?" I demanded, but she wouldn't answer; she didn't even have the decency to look me in the eye. So I slapped her, hard, my claws drawing three lines across her face. Slowly, they started to seep blood.
She flinched, a single tear escaping her eye. Finally, her gaze met my own.
"We used it as a generator to power our hideout. It's what we've done to all cars we've found." The way she said it made it sound like she was giving away top secret information.
"Who's we?" I asked.
"There were four of us." She started, my intense stare warning her to keep talking, "Me and Crack here, another who went off looking for supplies a couple of days ago and hasn’t come back yet, and another who...died."
"Right." I really didn't care about her sob story. I just wanted my ute fixed.
"Fix my ute!" I demanded.
"I-I-I can't, not with hooves." She shrunk under my hateful stare. Having hooves was not an excuse.
I knew I'd have to replace the fuel if it was all used as a generator, I leaned in real close.
"Where's some extra fuel, E-ten preferably?" My voice was cold, devoid of emotion, but Triple understood that I could still explode at any second. She was definitely shaking in her metaphorical boots now.
"W-w-we don't have that, we drained all the cars we found." She looked like a tortoise ready to go inside it's shell, but with nowhere to hide.
"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" I slammed my fist down centimetres away from her face, the crackhead stifling a cry of surprise and worry. Triple had her eyes clenched shut and was trying her hardest not to turn to my direction.
I tried a different approach, I softened my voice to be calm and soothing, "Where's the fuel? I wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty pony after all." I threatened, finishing my dramatic performance by slowly caressing her cheek.
This seemed to horrify her even further. She gave me the shifty eyes again, before coming to a sensible decision, "U-um t-t-that Hyundai over there might have some fuel left, it should be E-ten too. We stopped using it because the battery went flat."
"You better hope you're right, or your pretty face is gonna get messed up again."
I got up to go look at the Hyundai but before I could Triple cleared her throat: "Um, did I say Hyundai, hehe? Slip of the tongue… it was actually the, uh, Honda, yeah. They both start with 'H' so it's easy to confuse them, right?" she laughed unconvincingly.
I made my way over to the car graveyard looking for the Honda with fuel to siphon. I hoped I would find it, for her sake.
A Honda Civic. The car that every douchebag uses as their JDM ricer. Luckily it was E10 compatible like my ute, but once I smelt the fuel in the Civic it was clear that it wasn't E10. Damn, it was only unleaded. I was pretty sure that unleaded fuel aged better than E10 anyway. I disconnected a whole heap of cooling hoses from various skeletal vehicle remains and duct taped them together to make a siphon to remove the fuel from the Civic. I tried opening the fuel cap cover but it wouldn't budge, so I used my elongated claws to pry it open. I ran back to my ute to get a couple twenty litre drums I had found on my way out of Brisbane. I hooked up the siphon to the inside of the fuel tank, and after building suction in the system with my mouth, I spat out the fuel that flooded my mouth and aimed the hose into the first drum.
While I was waiting for the fuel to siphon I took a better look around the shelter. Triple had said she had a refinery or some sort of distillery here. If I could find that it would really increase my alcohol storage.
I decided to go back into the shelter to look around for stuff to scavenge. Making my way into the makeshift lounge room I noticed the television was off, likely because I had just cut their power off. They had a nice couch, but I didn’t have enough room unless they also had trailer stashed here somewhere. I had an aftermarket tow bar on my ute to use, but I’d never really needed it before now. I saw the crack pipe that whats-his-face was using sitting on the couch, and I stuffed it in my pocket to use for future “motivation.” At one end of the shelter I found a door slightly seemingly leading to a simple closet. What could be back here? I thought to myself.
Behind that door was the most beautiful treasure I’d ever seen, kegs with hoses running out of them all laid out on a pony-sized bench. Stacked in the corner were dozens of sealed bottles, containing what I hoped was alcohol.. Going over to inspect them, I popped the cap off a few of the bottles and discovered that it was not just one type of alcohol, rather, there was vodka, gin, and whiskey. I assumed that they were all made by Triple Distilled, and if her namesake was in any way involved then all of these were triple distilled brews.
I ran out of the shelter to grab my duffel bag. On the way to my ute I swapped the siphoning hose over to the next drum. After giving my passengers another stern look, I grabbed my duffel bag and ran back to the shelter to grab as many bottles as I could fit in my bag. After that I went looking for a trailer; I came up empty-handed, which was a disappointment but not a big loss. I had enough for now.
Once I was done searching for a trailer and scavenging other various things I made my way back over to my siphoning and disconnected everything. I carried the fuel drums and my recently plundered loot back to my ute, noting how usually light all the stuff felt. I wasn’t the strongest as a human, but as a dragon, it seemed I had significantly increased strength as well. I carried my newfound loot over to my ute, and fueled up. If this didn't work there would be consequences.
Here goes nothing.
I turned the key, gunning the engine a couple of times to run the fuel through the system, and it started! I got out while it was running to re-tape over Triple’s mouth to make sure she wasn’t planning something with Crack Pipe. I turned to see Crack looking at me with pleading eyes. I got out the packet of crack and gave him a pinch of crack. I didn’t give it all to him so that he’d have a reason to stay. Without his pipe he looked down at the chunk I had just given him, before tossing the whole thing in his mouth.
I got in the front of my ute and left their dingy excuse for a hideout. I was off to search the rest of this apocalyptic wasteland, ready to claim everything and anything as mine and mine alone. I was off, continuing my drunken rage trip that had no end destination apart from south.