“Who is your enemy, if not yourself?”
Baltimare’s rain could do quite a lot. It is truly fascinating, to watch something so common and mundane become the talk of the week. Each rain drop was colored a rainbow shade, painting the dark sky in a whirlwind of colors, and just as in old Equestrian nature, bright colors are not a good thing. Wherever the rain fell, something truly odd happened. Giant plants sprouted that mimic the noises around them, giant lizards were created which ate the giant plants, and then a raindrop would hit the lizard and explode it in a fiery blast.
I look over to Sure Shot and Sure Shield, doing their best to hide smug grins, and sigh, “Okay, fine, you both get five bits. I was incorrect and thought I knew everything about Baltimare, is that what you want to hear?”
Sure Shot grins, looking around the ruined arcade that we trot under, making sure to avoid every leaky spot, “Well, hon, I’m just saying… we were right. You weren’t.”
I nod, looking back at the rain, “Fine, you were right, I wasn’t. But you cannot think I should have suspected this in the least.”
She grins more, shrugging, “Maybe not, but you shouldn’t be surprised when stuff gets odd in Baltimare, hon.” She looks ahead, “Now come on, we’re here, hon, get your caravan face on.”
I look ahead, seeing a very large building ahead of me, which the arcade connects to. The building seems to stretch for many blocks, painted many different faded shades of blue. A sign hangs above a large double door set, reading ‘Trader’s Paradise Mall’. However, only ‘Traders’ is lit up, giving the impression from a distance of that being the name of the building. I nod, “A mall. A fitting place to begin a guild of traders.”
Sure Shot smiles, “I know, it’s a great location, isn’t it, hon? But there’s so much more inside.” She trots up to the door, opening them, grinning at me, and nodding me inside, “Go on in, hon.”
I slowly trot in, glancing around the building. It’s split into three floors, each covered in their own types of shops. It seems like the first floor is for food, water, and medical supplies. The second floor seems dedicated to weapons and armor, and other such fighting needs. The final, third, floor has what seems to be a bar, an inn, and many other salesponies of all other products. I smile, “Okay… this is pretty impressive. Everything efficiently organized, able to house many ponies, but where are the guards?”
Sure Shot grins, trotting in beside me, and pointing at a nearby ceiling. Hanging there is a tiny machine shaped like a gun, covered in a cracked black casing, “There, hon. Used to look like security cameras, but then some raiders tried to attack, and we learned they were guns. Plus, ain’t a pony in here, almost, that don’t have a gun.”
I nod, “So you have a militia of customers and turrets defending you. Not impossible defenses, but enough to make everypony want to not fight. It reminds me of a similar place in Hoofington.”
Sure Shield raises an eyebrow, “You’ve been to Hoofington?”
I nod, but Sure Shot speaks before I can explain, “We can always talk more about that later, hon. You’d better go talk to Mister Bit and tell him about the attack first.” She smiles, “He’s in his office always, which is right next to the store called ‘A Bit ‘O Nostalgia’, can’t miss it, hon. We’ll be in the Balti-More Alcohol Inn later, will we meet back up there, hon?”
I smile, “Sure, Miss Shot, if I can. Thank you for escorting me here.” I nod to her, “You are a good example of what ponykind should be, Miss Shot.”
She smiles back widely, “Aww, you’re too kind, hon. I’m just doing my part for Equestria.”
I smile more, “And it is good that you are, Miss Shot. I’ll see you in that Inn.” I then turn, and trot off, scanning the gathered stores for ‘A Bit ‘O Nostalgia’, as Shot said to.
The stores all are run by a mix of unicorns and earth ponies, with no real bias in either direction, and most of the shops seem to be doing moderately well. There’s even one being run by a Griffon, selling freshly cooked Radroach and ‘B.E.M’, whatever that means. Finally, I see ‘A Bit ‘O Nostalgia’, which seems to be run by a unicorn ghoul, selling various pre-war goods. Preserved foods, water served in two hundred year old bottles, surprisingly well-maintained dresses and suits, and a few pre-war posters and magazines.
I trot up to the slightly hidden office door beside the shop, having to jump back to avoid getting hit in the face as the door slams open. A burgundy mare with a golden mane… a cute one, trots out frowning and shouting back into the office, “You are a thieving degenerate, Bit, and don’t be surprised when this comes back to bite you in your rotten flank!” She then marches off, quite angrily judging by how she seems to stomp down with extra force. And yes, I’m watching her trotting pattern, not anything else. Be quiet.
I look back at the office, slowly trotting in and closing the door behind me. I look ahead to see a pinkish unicorn ghoul sat behind a desk, wearing a fine pre-war suit, sighing as he puts his head into his hooves. I clear my throat, “Mister Bit?”
He looks up, making an odd clinking noise as he does, and tilts his hat up. His nearly rotten eyes look at me, before he breaks out into a smile, “You look like a caravan master, Ma’am.”
I nod, trotting closer, and taking a seat across from him, “Half Mast, Mister Bit, Rainy Roads Caravan.”
He grins, and nods to me, offering a hoof, a jingling noise filling the air as he raises it, “Mister Bit, Ma’am Mast, Golden Plunder Caravan.”
I take his hoof, shaking it, “If you don’t mind my asking, Mister Bit, why do you make a clinking noise when you move?”
He pauses, looking at me, and blinking, “Oh, you’re new.” His horn lights up, pulling down the sleeve of his suit, allowing me to see circular lumps throughout his entire leg, “I was a banker, Ma’am Mast, and the Pink Cloud has an awful habit of fusing pony and occupation.”
I blink, “So you’re from Canterlot? I’ve only ever heard legends of your type of ghoul… that they’re nearly impossible to kill.”
He grins, moving the sleeve back down and pulling his leg back, “Why do you think I run the most successful caravan in the Wasteland? If the Zebras couldn’t kill me in Canterlot, Ma’am, then I can assure you that a pony with a rusty assault weapon won’t find success.” He smiles, “Now, Ma’am Mast, what brings Rainy Roads Caravan to my little Mall?”
I look down for a second, and sigh, looking back up, “A village to the west is gone, Mister Bit. A fellow Caravaner, Sure Shot of Sure Can Caravan told me it was by a group called ‘Legion’. My… my caravan got caught inside, I’m the only survivor.”
His smile fades into a soft frown, “Legion. I thought they were supposed to keep to themselves… this is valuable information, Ma’am Mast, and thank you for coming here and telling me. The loss of anypony, let alone a whole caravan, is a tragedy. I offer my condolences, and if there is anything I can do to help you, Ma’am, I will.”
I look at him, and smile slightly, “Thank you, Mister Bit… but I don’t know what you can do.”
He smiles, “I can give you a job, Ma’am. I’m beginning a new route to New Appleloosa, and I’d be honored to have a pony like you take the job. You’re smart, coming to me first with this information, you have experience, and you are as well spoken as I am, if not more. You’ll be paid very richly, you’ll have a home here in Traders, and it will ensure your protection.”
I pause, glancing away to a nearby wall. On that wall, I see a pre-war poster depicting marching Steel Rangers, with text saying ‘Loyalty, Duty, Strength- Mourn When The War is Over, Join The Steel Rangers Today!’
He looks over at the poster, and then back at me, slowly nodding, “Mourn when the war is over.” I look back at him, and he smiles softly, “You lost your whole livelihood, Ma’am, I can’t blame you for wanting to kill those who took it. Believe me, I know the feeling…”
I nod, “I’m sorry, Mister Bit.”
He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry, Ma’am Mast. Finish your war, the position will still be open when you come back. The Traders will always be open to you.”
I smile slightly, and stand up, “Thank you, Mister Bit. Have a good day.” I turn to trot out, only to pause, “Mister Bit, might I ask a small favor?”
He nods, “Of course, Ma’am.”
I glance towards the door, “What, exactly, were you called a ‘thieving degenerate’ for, and can I have it?”