//------------------------------// // PARTY TIME (By Skybolt) // Story: Chilling Wasteland Stories to Tell in the Dark // by MuseoSansPony //------------------------------// Tyretread was in a dire situation. Raiders had ambushed his wagon, and had the cart totally surrounded. He was hiding inside and firing out of the windows as well as he could. The wagon contained all of his worldly possessions, the most important of which was his daughter, Saltine. She was growing up, now a teenager, but in times like this all he could ever see was the four year old he had to pull from the grasp of her dead mother. Their journey for a safer place to live never seemed to be over. He had to think quickly, but that was something Tyretread was not very good at, at least, not on his own. When Saltine’s back was turned, he floated out the hidden tin of Party Time Mint-als. As soon as the tablet melted on his tongue, he could feel his focus tighten and his awareness of their surroundings multiply exponentially. He scanned around the buildings at the various figures firing at them. Saltine was able to take out one more of the six, but the others were still shooting. Raiders are very hierarchical, killing a leader makes them scatter. After a few seconds, Tyretread was sure he knew who that leader was. The mare had the fiercest face among them, her eyes seemed to glow red and flaming manticore horns grew from the sides of her skull. Tyretread blinked away for a second. The years of Mint-al abuse had begun leaving him with terrible side effects. He loaded an armor-piercing round into his bolt-action rifle and fired right through her chest. Her death rattle had the intended effect. The others stopped firing and disappeared. After a few minutes it was safe for them to continue on. A few days later, they had thankfully made it through the densest part of the city and out onto the open road. The last store they passed by was an old fashioned boutique. After scavenging for a few minutes, Saltine had come back with a skirt and halter-top combo that she was fawning over. That night she had fully integrated the expensive clothing into her armor, working diligently on the stitching by the campfire. Then, without warning, another group of raiders popped out of the ditch beside the road and chased them away from their wagon. Tyretread was separated from his daughter, and could hear the popping of her semi-automatic rifle. One of the raiders kept pursuing him, and he knew he had to turn this around quickly. He swallowed another tablet of Party Time Mint-als and spun back around. The raider that was pursuing him now had the face of a hellhound, but it was still just an earth pony inside. Tyretread fired, and the monster went down. Galloping back to their camp, two creatures were fighting each other while circling the wagon. He took aim at the radscorpion and fired. It was dead in seconds. Once he got within the glow of the campfire, the mole rat, the lone survivor, raised its gun at him and began firing. In a panicked response, he fired back until the mole rat stopped moving. His heart began racing and his mind was trying to decipher what happened. He went searching in the ditch, seeing where Saltine might be hiding. Only when he passed the wagon, did he see the radscorpion start to fade away. It was wearing a very expensive skirt and halter-top.