Pack & Satchel never seemed to agree on anything. It had been that way since they were kids. The two brothers fought incessantly.
Luckily, their sibling rivalry had made the two work harder at what they did in order to outdo each other. They were couriers, both members of the small 'Papa Smokey’s Wasteland Express' courier company.
Every successful assignment was a pushpin on the employee history board that Papa Smokey used to great success. The simple incentive played on the brothers’ personalities, making them both his top couriers.
Usually their deliveries were small in size, within a day or two of their storefront, but that would not be true of their next assignment.
A group of four or five ponies entered the shop one day, carrying some boxes of old terminal parts. Something about their eyes set Papa Smokey on edge, as he felt for his gun below the counter.
The leader of the group presented the boxes of parts and gave them a delivery location up past Manehattan, saying that the recipient would be waiting there.
Enthusiastic as always, Pack & Satchel each offered to make the delivery. The leader with the cold eyes silenced them and demanded that they both go, saying that the packages needed extra protection and they had to move quickly, no wagons.
The brothers were a bit stunned, but Papa Smokey agreed, and they set off the next day.
Each brother carried two boxes of terminal parts, arguing over which one was carrying more. They were venting their frustrations that they couldn’t count the job as a success against the other, instead competing over who was 'leading' or 'pulling the most weight' in the combined assignment.
The next day they argued over which direction to take on a split in the highway. Pack wanted to take the turnpike because it was a straighter shot and Satchel wanted to take the coastal road because there were less obstacles.
Their argument grew heated enough that they both renounced traveling together. Each brother went off in his own direction, beginning a race for their destination.
Pack was pretty satisfied with his choice of the turnpike. The long, straight concrete path was only interrupted by a few large pieces of debris. Most of the smaller vehicles had been picked clean for parts long ago, their frames having been tossed aside by hellhounds or other travelers.
At nightfall, he decided that he would only sleep for a few hours, then pick up traveling again after midnight to try to beat Satchel to the drop point.
Just as he was setting off again, he heard the creak of metal as a wagon frame seemed to flex on its own. Frightened, Pack pulled out his shotgun, but continued galloping.
To his surprise the shotgun went off on its own and he found himself rolling across the broken concrete. When he rolled to a stop, he spit the shotgun handle out of his mouth to inspect the barrel.
The barrel was gone.
A clean slice ran through the side of the gun. The only surviving piece of the mechanism was the firing pin.
Pack then noticed a figure standing over him. His head turned up, to see a tall black shadow looming, with bright red glowing eyes.
A deep mechanical voice boomed from its face: “Surrender your cargo, or die.”
Sweat ran down his forehead as he raced to think what he should do. He gazed at the remains of his gun, then back up at the shadowy creature.
That’s when he noticed something strapped to the creature’s back. It was two boxes of old computer parts. A smile began growing on Pack’s face.
“I won!”
