//------------------------------// // 2015 project - Fallout:Equestria Family Matters - Prologue // Story: RoMS' Extravaganza // by RoMS //------------------------------// Prologue Don’t bring a sword to a gunfight. According to the laws of this universe, it should be considered cheating. The swordspone will always fuck you up so badly. “Okay, mate. We may have gotten ourselves into a bad head start, you and I,” I muttered with my eyes riveted on the sword hanging above my head. Blood dripped in slow drops on my face into one garish rain. If only it could just avoid my eyes, I’d be so damn happy. Slowly, my eyes crawled up to my assailant. I glared shotgun loads at that bulky yellow stallion standing over me; his greyish mane made his blue eyes hard to see. He held a strange sword in his mouth. Short but large, its upper part was sickle-shaped and a gold lining was etched all along its edge. That would fetch a pretty price on the second-hoof market if you asked me. If only I could have it. Patched up protection plastered the stallion’s chest and forehooves. I bet those parts were made out of a steelranger armour. That stallion was definitely not the kind of pony to mess around with. “I may have tried to rob you, extort you, and even kill you, but I ain’t that of a bad pone you know,” I trailed on. “You’ve killed like five of my lads so maybe, just maybe, should we consider ourselves even, don’tcha think?” I had never smiled that broadly in my whole, boring life. I growled, grinned, wiggled around, and licked my lips. The stallion just huffed, breathing foul air onto my face through his yellow teeth. His sweat trickled down and spilled over me and the parquet. “Tell me one reason I shouldn’t kill ya, Caffeine,” the pony spat at me, pinning me down with his hoof and closing in with his sword. “I don’t know,” I replied dryly. “Didn’t you have a contract? You haven’t told me me yet how much ponies put on my face this time.” He raggedy breath became louder. Anger transpired off his hide and his fire-blazing eyes never diverted from mine. “I shouldn’t have taken that contract,” he broke in. “Dealing with bandits like ya… always a problem. You didn’t even let me tell ya what the matter was. I just wanted…” I rolled my eyes and cackled. “Oh, come on! You know what you stepped in. You’re not the first one to come here and try to kill the business,” I berated, cutting him off. “We ain’t the bad bunch around here. I even let the merchants go through unharmed… if they pay a small fee of course. If they don’t… well, Luna can watch upon them all.” I squeaked when the sword dropped at a mere inch from my face. I did try to melt away into the dusty parquet. His narrowed eyes betrayed his broken patience. “Such an irritating, blaring pony,” he growled through his gritted teeth. “Will ya ever let me finish speaking?” I pinched my lips together, looked right and left, and sighed deeply. I was seriously getting tired of the shitty situation. If only I could have something to drink, a weapon… or any kind of opportunity. “You’re talking about contract,” I brought forth, decided to delay my death penalty. “Who’s sending you? Bloodskulls, Ragnar’rocks? Or maybe those sneaky, incestuous Blacknecks?” The pony arched a brow at my question and I grinned back. “What? No?” he hesitated. “Stop trying to draw conclu…” “Because, you know,” I slurred again. “For any urgent request you have to go through my intendant first. And she’s right behind you, awaiting your order.” The yellow stallion swerved his head back and I kicked out. That trick always worked like a charm. As he scrambled away, shaking off the sudden daze, I reached out for my ripped apart bag lying a hoof from me. I pulled out a short and jagged knife and thrust it in a long sweep. Stepping back with a parry, he sent sparks flying over our heads. I screamed and jumped. He grimaced. I leaped and attacked. He dodged. Moving forward, his edge found its way in a table. I growled, hacked through his defence and sought for his neck. He let go the sword, reared up and blew the air out of my chest with a violent buck. I crashed in the set of chairs that circled the bar counter. My head hit the wooden stock and splinters flew all around. Dizzied, I saw him fetch his sword, ripping apart the table it had been embedded in. “Don’t destroy my furniture!” I bawled, tasting blood in my mouth. The stallion trembled with anger, “First ya don’t listen, then ya lie, then ya make it as if I was the bad guy?!” He bounced sideway and swivelled, seeking my headleg’s kneecap. I kicked in a chair that went smashing in him mid-air. Pushing my rear hooves against the bar counter, I slipped beneath the jumping pony and crawled at the opposite side of the vast room. He landed, turned, and charged. I was panting. Sweat dripped into my eyes. I was burning like hell. The disgruntled stallion clenched his teeth on his sword’s pommel as he reached at me. No more talking. No more bargaining. “Come and get me,” I drawled just before contact. “Make yourself at home!” I slipped on the side and pointed my knife in his cheek. He dove backward and avoided the edge. Reaching the nearest wall in his charge, he rolled over and bucked the bricks. Propelling himself right at me, he smashed in my chest full force. My knife dropped and his sword whistled to my neck. Yet, the blow never came. “I’ve got a message for ya,” he pated heavily. “Me too.” With a spit flying in his eyes, my rearleg found its way to the stallion’s family jewels. I glanced aside and grabbed a splintered table leg. With a roar, my jab reached and pierced through the stallion’s neck. I pushed him back and scrambled away on my haunches. Unable to see, unable to speak, and unable to breath, he randomly whipped his whistling sword around. I slipped behind a turned over table just before the sickle-sword blasted midway through and got blocked. He grunted as he forced on the sword’s guard to take it out. Only then did I hear a thump, quickly followed by the scrapping noise of a bloodied fur against wood. I jumped over the split open table and crashed with all my might into his ribs. “Ah! You hear that! Nobody fuck with me!” I howled. “Nobody!” I stood up and took in full view the reddish and bent body. The sight made me take a few steps away. Reaching the middle of the saloon, my knees jerked and I fell face flat on the floor. Shivers had taken hold my body. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear. But rest wasn’t an option. I wanted to fight. To punch. To bite. My body refused to move. Fuck it! “AND WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT STALLION ANYWAY!?” I screamed. I laughed… grinned… quivered. I loved adrenaline. I hated it too. My heart was shaky, bumping…wild. Quaking like a dildo, I lifted my hoof above my head and hid my eyes from the blinding light pouring from the broken windows. It was suddenly so calm. There was only the wind to sing a lullaby. My heart beating like crazy, I lay unable to move for goddesses knew how long. Only a cough that weren’t mine called me back to the world of the livings. I sat with difficulty and my mane crawled as I got to see how my saloon had turned into a pandemonium. It was utterly destroyed, fucked up, whatever. Bodies piled up all around. I could count seven of them with the bloody stallion not accounted in. Blood had leaked in the cracks of the parquet. At least it was some oil to its creaking. It will need some polishing though… again. My bookshelves had broken down and book that I had traded, taken, or scavenged lay in heap on the ground. A bullet hole marked the Ponies’ Tales prints I had had so much difficulty to complete. I closed my eyes and sucked up my roar. I breathed in, reopened my reddish and achy eyes, and looked away. The mirror that had stood behind the bar counter lay in sharp shards on the ground. Only an eighth of it still remained screwed to the wall, cracked and uneven. There were too many bullet holes to count. I should have definitely invested in targeting lessons for my pals. Lessons on survival would have been a must-have too… Witnessing the damage caused to my property, I finally saw a pony’s head hanging in the doorway. Even the entrance door had been smashed. “You fine, boss?” After one long sigh, I rubbed my forehead with an approving grunt. Sponging away the red that stained my cheeks with the back of my hoof, I glanced at a gaunt pale blue mare whose teeth had seen some wild beating. “No, Bilberry. I am not fine,” I growled. “And don’t call me boss, please.” The place smelled like shit, blood, and powder. I rose to my hooves and stumbled forward to the mare. She caught me before I fell. I was going to ask something but a ceiling fan went crashing down on the ground behind me. One blade even snapped off a deadpony’s back. Bilberry spied at my face, grimaced, and cowered away towards the entry. I closed my eyes, exhaled… I. Was. Fine… No I wasn’t, silly. I hung my head low and threw a fire-setting glare ad the dead swordspone. I was almighty pissed… so much I took his own weapon and embedded it in his flank. Again… Again… I kicked, screamed, ran, cried, roared around… bawled around until I slipped and fell in the large red puddle that had stretched from the body. Sprawling flat in the grim didn’t stop me from grunting and hacking around. I drummed my hooves hard on the floor. I had had enough. Why couldn’t have had that bail out card like in that game Bilberry always had me to play. I held one hoof to my face then one to my chest. I was in pain. I had to stop… easier said than done. When I opened my eyes again, the mare was standing next to me, a half-filled glass on her hoof and a towel on her back. “You want… a drink,” Bilberry asked, trying not to get her messy, bleached mane in the small glass she held out to me. “I don’t like you when you’re angry.” I sat up and looked at her ravaged smile. I tried to grin back but found I couldn’t. I met her eyes and breathed out. After a couple of seconds spent in silence, I took the drink and sipped it all. “Luna almighty, I hate whiskey,” I croaked. “I’m sorry,” Bilberry sniffed, lying low. I grabbed her before she ran away. “It’s not your fault, sweetie,” I said. “Let’s blame the pony there.” I kicked the dead body of the swordspone. With a forced giggle, Bilberry kicked it too, pushing the heap of flesh on its side. “The fucker didn’t know who is was messing with,” I said. “Don’t you think?” While Bilberry mumbled approvingly, I scanned the dead stallion’s patchwork equipment. His sword was the only item of value he had on him at first sight. Aside from his armour, now drenched in red, he had carried a worn out saddlebag. I frowned and narrowed my eyes. Until now I hadn’t seen the scroll that had been lying inside. Spiked by curiosity, I stretched my hoof and dragged the bag to my side. My name had been written on a small paper slag glued to the metal clip that held the scroll closed. I had never seen such kind of paper and I was definitely ready to see how many caps they had put on my face. It would go on the wall with the others anyway. It helps to show who the boss was around here. Snapping it open, I scrolled down the paper and read. When I finished, my head dropped. “Oh goddesses,” I rasped. “Tell me, tell me,” Bilberry intoned. “I can’t read.” The paper held one single paragraph and it was something I wouldn’t have wished to hear. Yo Caffeine Shot. It’s Mom. I’m sorry to tell you that but I am probably dead. I asked my lawyer to open my will and to carry it out in my name. This message has probably be sent by him to you through a specially hired courier –Not a bad one, though, I know your habits… You’re not the calmest kid I brought to this world. Anyway, I need to split the estate after my death. Hence, you’re expected in Philomena. Since the sky was opened five years ago, I can now set up a date for the will to become effective. If you’re not there on time for the will opening, which is set to be on the Summer Sun Celebration’s Eve, your brothers and sisters will get everything you had. I know how much you love each others. I.e. get your fat ass down to town so you can get my cold, wrinkly body out of that dank murderhouse they dare call a hospital. Mom, P.S. You’re the one to receive my PipBuck, I know how bad you are with maps so I give you mine. Don’t fiddle with it. You always break stuff down when you shouldn’t. P.S.2 Check the courier’s bag if you killed him. If you did, I’m kinda disappointed in you, son. “Oh, come on!” I cried out, throwing the paper away. Bilberry cringed slightly but she found the strength to ask, “Something’s wrong?” I slumped slightly over my rump and could only get myself to stare at my earth pony hooves. “Mom is dead,” I muttered and repeated, “Mom… is… dead. How could she…?” I reread the fact once again to wash away the sense of surreal that hung in my brain. I couldn’t believe that the steel slab of a mare she was… was dead. That was going to be so complicated. “Go fetch my bag,” I asked Bilberry. “Please.” As she ran like a gust of wind, I shakily stood on my haunches, soaked and wet in so much red it made my cream white fur as grim as it could be. I needed a shower the town had never got to work. Rusty and cranky, I sat on the nearest, still intact chair in front of the bar counter. I stared at myself in the cracked mirror. With my short, brown mane and eyes and a cream white fur, I was a pretty common sort of earth pony. I grunted, cleared my throat, and struck the counter with my hoof. “Barpone!” I yelled. “Yep!” A green stallion with a neatly trimmed blue moustache popped out from under the bar counter. Looking at me with widened eyes, his hooves went for under the counter and brought up a set of towels. “I… thought you had a shotgun under the vodka shots?” I growled, rubbing my nascent beard. He gave me the widest and most sheepish grin he could muster and kept silent. Meanwhile, I took one towel and started scrapping off the already drying grim off my hid. It took more than ten swipes to finally get a view of my cutie mark… a fucking cardboard box. I grimaced and focused back on the barpone. “I’m sure I’m going to regret it but you’re the more competent around here to run the business,” I gave out with a grunt. “You take care of the affairs for the time being ‘til I come back.” “Wait? What…? You sure?” he fumbled through. “Yes, I am,” I mumbled. “Sincere condolences by the way,” he apologized. “Oh come on.” I smirked. “The ragmare should have broken her pipe earlier in my opinion. She had her time.” I heard somepony stroll back in the saloon with a load of backpack clanging around. “Bilberry?” I called out. “Mmmh,” she chewed over something. “You can use the gun under my pillow when I’m not here if misters and misses around the place ain’t giving compliance,” I said. “Oh yiiiiiis!” she said, dropping what she held in her mouth. A gunshot roared, splitting my ears. A little bit of wall crashed on the ground right after. I was still staring at the bartender while he was struggling not to laugh. I would have made him swallow his arm if he had laughed. “You can especially hit him,” I motioned towards the bartender. All trace of smug grin vanished from the stallion’s face. The pleading kind of look he gave me was satisfying enough that I wouldn’t go back on my words… not just yet. Bilberry however was ravished. After I had relatively fairly and somehowishly cleaned myself, I went back to the courier’s corpse and rummaged through his saddlebag. I rapidly found the PipBuck mentioned in the letter. It was bulkier than models I had already seen. And not very well protected too. Cable sprouted out of its side and coil stuck up around its screen. Was that a battery hanging out to a cable? Mother, what had you done? Strapping it to my left hoof, I waved the engine around, feeling the pulling weight on my leg. Shortly after, I pushed a button and the screen lit up. First completely white, the screen snapped to black and strips of green code scrolled down. It turned dark again before it restarted, this time with a blue-coloured bios. Mother always liked personalisation. ‘>> Welcome Mr Shot’ it spelled before initializing the main menu. “Leave,” I abruptly said. “Who, me?” the bartender asked. “Yes you, only you.” He ran past Bilberry, who clacked her teeth next to his tail, and disappeared outside. “You okay?” Bilberry asked, walking to my side. I grimaced and slowly looked up to her. “I’m gonna have to leave, Bilberry,” I said. “And no, you can’t come with me.” She pouted and went to a tight hug. “I don’t wanna to,” she said, rubbing her face in my neck. “Can you promise me something?” I whispered. She mumbled a yes. “Don’t hit ponies too much while I’m gone, okay.” I felt a nod at the tip of her muzzle against my skin. “Can you promise also?” she added. “Everything you want,” I said. “Come back,” she told me. “I will,” I replied. “I will.” “And don’t cry,” she rasped. “It’s nothing,” I said tugging her close to me. “It’s nothing.” “I don’t like when you cry,” she said. With no smile, I looked down. It was a rainy saloon today… As three dots of water struck my PipBuck’s locked screen, a few words flashed into life. >> Good Luck, Son. >>Family matters. Chapter 1. Inside To Emptiness “I was stalling in the garish morning, alone in the desert. No song strollin’ my mind to sing. Alone, but with all my rueful thoughts.” * * * I heartlessly watched the scenery roll by with my forehoof sitting on the edge of the wagon’s window frame. Patches of dried grass. Sandy dunes in the distance. Desert anywhere to look. My mind trailed off as the music blared by my PipBuck cracked and spurred at each bump the train wagon made on the two-century old track. “Don’t look at him, sweetie,” a red mare warned, hiding her filly’s eyes from my smelly sight. Blinking, I looked away from the landscape and stared at the mare. I would have bet my head she was wondering how I had gotten into the first class wagon. Money’s privilege m’lady! We get some money to spare in my field of study. “But, mommy!” the filly protested. “Look at his stuff!” “Yes. Exactly. Don’t look at it.” A hoof resting on my forehead, I smirked. The mother desperately tried to hide her child from looking at the big ass bag resting next to me. The unicorn filly hadn’t had her cutie mark yet. Her rosy blank flank stood out, even though she always tried to hide it with her golden pony tail. “He must have stolen that Pip Buck,” the mother muttered. Unheeding, I took a pack of gums out of my pocket and chewed over two tabs. Then I let the pack on top of the table. “Want some?” I asked the filly. The mother’s eyes widened, her eyes going back and fro from me to her puppy-eyed kid. “There aren’t those kind of mints,” I pointed out. “I don’t want to add kidslaughter on my bar tab.” The filly’s lower lips rolled over as she gave her poutiest pout to her mother. “No,” the unicorn mare snapped. “But mooooom,” the filly whined, pushing a strand of bright yellow mane off her muzzle. Biting the tiny dried bits of skin off my lips, I turned up my PipBuck’s volume and drifted back to the landscape. The kid’s horn glowed yellow as she tried to reach out to one tab. The Mother licked her hoof and wash her filly’s magic off her tiny horn. The filly instantly whined and it made me smile. Kids were always a small light in the grim and dank, the dirt, and the sweat of the wasteland. While my PipBuck vomited guitar riffs, I carelessly scrolled down my backpack’s content on its lit up screen. It was probably the twelfth time I did so today. I got supplies, food and water, spare ammo for my boomstick, some med-x, and enough caps to last a month in the city if I stay put on my expenses. I had gotten no health potion with me though. There were useless where I was going anyway. The desert had proved itself too hot to keep potions in a bag without wasting them away. I couldn’t carry a fridge with me to that hot as fuck city of Philomena. As I reached the bottom of the list, the last entry still held that one bizarre name. “Brisée,” I butchered. The sword had sat on top of my saddlebags all along the trip, strapped to them with leather belts. For once, my curiosity struck and I untied the weapon. Lifting it, I made it shine in the blazing sun’s rays of light and set it up on top of the table. The sword was dented in many places. Only the external part of its sickle-shaped edge had been sharpened, probably hundredth of times so that it was uneven and jagged. To be honest, I didn’t want to be hit by that monstrosity. Asking my PipBuck for details, I scrolled to the one sentence that had popped up when I had added the tool to my inventory. “Zebra khopesh, old,” I reread and sighed, “Bleh, nothing worth of it.” The red mare coughed and I raised my head. “What do you think you’re doing?” she pointed out with anger. “Looking through my stuff, ma’am,” I said. “It ain’t going to take care of itself.” Fumbling through my supplies, I closed my teeth on a long and thin sharpening stone. Pinning my sword down, I started the work. Sparks cracked up when I forced too much on the sword with the stone. The filly seemed in marvel at the light bursts. “What?” I called, puzzled by the mother’s dagger-throwing stare. “I still can ask your daughter if she want to do it herself.” “Oh, yes, mommy! Please, say yes.” “N-No!” she spewed back. I chortled and went back to work. “Ouch,” I cried. Not paying attention had me earned a cut. Thanks! I put the tip of my hoof in my mouth, silent witness to the mare’s grin, an I-told-you-so look haunting her face. “See,” the mare smirked. “He’s just a poor sod.” Keeping silent, I studied her dress. She wore a wide and fluffy multi-layered crimson robe decorated with black lace. It was very neat. Pricey I’d even say. And that corset. Umm, damn... That was kinky. “Going to some formal event, Miss?” I asked with a toothy grin. “You must die out of heat in there.” “Only since you’ve opened the damn window,” she teased back. “I was fine with the air conditioning on. Thank you.” She took a folded fan from her purse, snapped it open, and hid her face behind. “Mommy and I are going to see the new metro!” the filly burst. “It’s an anau… ino…” “Inauguration, my dear,” the mare interjected from behind her fan, “and don’t talk to him.” “But mooooom, you’re always talking about it,” the small-framed unicorn murmured. “You said you put a lot of money in it!” I arched a brow and smiled. The mare had reached out to her filly’s mouth not fast enough. I loved to hear about money matters and that mare, she saw my greedy eyes and gulped. “So…” I began, my muzzle drawing closer I was trailing off on purpose, feeding off her apprehension. It always brought me a smile to see ponies squirm around, especially nobility or what remained of it. “You’re an investor, aren’t you?” I beamed off. “Why choosing Philomena? Last time I went there it was a vast shithole filled with radioactive wast and monsters. I remember fillies and colts used to throw rocks at radwhip snakes down there.” I looked over at the filly and snapped my teeth together. She squeaked and sought refuge in her mother’s dress. “They would gobble you up in one throw if you aren’t fast enough.” I giggled. “And if you’re fast enough, they would bite in their own tail and roll like a wheel behind you… Until they barrel over you and snap you bones aaall together.” The filly cringed a bit in her mother’s dress with a whine. “Mommy. He’s scary.” The mare shook her head. “He’s only talking legends, sweetie,” she said before calling me out, “And you, sir… have to see the changes in the city. With all the good coming from the Eastern Coast, Philomena is getting revived. The region is, you’re right on that point, as dangerous as before the Lightbringer’s coming… but Philomena’s city centre is a beacon of light in the desert.” “Ain’t New Pegas, though,” I mocked. “Ever been there?” The mare took offense of me suspecting her of wild gambling apparently. She didn’t answer. “So you’ve invested in the city, right?” I asked. “It seems to be a risky bet in my opinion. Do you expect a high-yield?” “And what does a…” She looked at me from head to tail with a slight disgust, “… a raider know about finance?” I looked at my right hoof, then my left one. Come on, they weren’t bloody enough to earn me the title of raider, not yet. I held my hoof on my heart. “Oh, come on, lady,” I giggled with an over-the-top aristocratic accent. “We, gangers, hold a high respect to the concept of equity investment and venture. Shall we not take into account the risk of losing one’s life in a bargain we would be no more than raiders. My mother educated me well before I went astray.” Her face grew dark. “I’m still thinking that you’re playing with my nerves,” she spat. “Maybe,” I replied with a shrug and a slight grin, “maybe not. You’re just entertaining.” “What would a distinguished bandit like you do in Philomena? The local government is trying to import order, not…” She held a hoof towards me. “…desolation.” Her eyes swiftly glanced at my sword. I rolled my eyes and finally strapped it back on top of my saddlebag. I got the message. “Family,” I answered. “I gotta buried my mother.” “Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry.” “Oh, that’s alright,” I replied, seeing that she hugged tight her filly. “The Shot family has seen worse than that.” Her eyes widened. “The… Shot?” She pondered, narrowing her eyes. “The Shot Family? Like in Ambedo Shot?” “Oh, you know my mother?” I spurred with an arched brow. She pinched her lips together, grunted, and stood up. “Come one, sweetie,” she ordered harshly. “We go.” “But mooom,” the rose filly complained. “No,” she barked. “We. Go.” As I watched them pack away silently, I couldn’t scrap away the ill-feeling that had just set in my heart. Apparently, mom was more notorious than I thought. “Hey, what’s your name?” I asked the filly before she slipped through the door, pulled by her mother. “I’m Sunburst,” she said with a broad smile. “And you?” “Caffeine.” “Come on,” her mother groaned through her gritted teeth outside. The filly disappeared in the alleyway of the wagon and I felt drowned in silence and slight darkness… In fact, I was drowning in silence and darkness. I looked back at mother’s PipBuck to check on the radio. Only a faint static sound emerged from its small speaker. I tapped repeatedly on its screen but nothing came out of it. “Mmmh…” I growled. “Something must block the signal.” “Hello, everypony,” a voice cracked out from the interphone in the wagon through neatly hidden speakers. “We will be arriving in Philomena in three hours. The outside temperature is reaching a hundred and twenty, or nearly a fifty for the griffons on board. Meanwhile, we’ve got a haboob inbound and it is expected to cover the whole region from here to Philomena. Thereof, we diligently ask you to strap yourself on your sit and to close any open window. We wish you a pleasant and marvellous journey through the sandstorm.” “A haboob?” I spoke out loud. “Haven’t seen one in a while.” I looked through the window and saw nothing. It was very dark and plain… like a wall. A wall that was racing towards me. “Oh, fuck, fuck!” Sand. There was sand everywhere. I closed the window too late. The wagon’s room had been yellowed with fine sand and it was everywhere. Mane, fur… even eyes, buttcrack. Goddesses! That itched like star spiders up my arse. “You’re alright, mister?” a groom asked me through the slit-open door of my cubicle. “Yeah,” I grunted, waving a hoof in the voice’s direction, throwing dust in the air. “Bring me water… please.” “Right now, sir!” “And a towel!” I called. Sitting in my seat, I witnessed the mess around me. I should have called the dustroom service too. The light bulb above my head cracked alive with the duststorm outside thick enough to trigger the nightlight system. A second later, the wagon creaked and swayed on its right side. I slipped and rolled, hitting a wall. “Wow,” I laughed. “Impressive.” Then the wagon swerved back on the right and I rolled in the opposite direction. I ended up with my ass above my head. “Luna fuck me,” I grunted, rubbing my forehead. Eyes closed, I prodded for the nearest seatbelts. Acting rapidly, I had myself strapped down before the next bump acted up. I would have ended on the ceiling if not for those sweet leather straps. Something heavy thumped on the ground outside. “May I?” a voice called me out. I looked down at the groom crawling in my wagon’s alleyway. With my cubicle’s door swinging open, the poor stallion came in, his face as wet as it could get. “There are enough seats for another pony,” I said. “Thanks,” he muttered, strapping himself down. A long awkward silence followed, only cut from time to time by a violent gust of sand grinding at the outside of the train. “Eh, looks like a radigator’s trying to pry open the ceiling?” I joked. With the stallion’s forced smile as sole answer, we both drew back in silence. The next few hours went uneventful and the few words I exchanged with the groom were too boring to be mentioned here. It was with relief that I welcomed the train driver’s call for terminus. “Inbound Philomena. Everypony out,” the voice said. “Thanks for travelling with Westward Railway Incorporated, brought to you by Tenpony Tower Capital, Manhatten.” The haboob was still blowing strong in the outskirts of “New Philomena”. At least, that’s what the plaque I was standing in front of said that the city was called now. Looking up, I couldn’t see shit. Ponies ran all around, their faces and bodies hidden under heavy scarves and capes even though it was terribly hot out here.