//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Edge of Burning Country // Story: Fallout Equestria: We Love Burning Country! // by Str8aura //------------------------------// Chapter Two: Edge of Burning Country "We were spitting venom at most everyone we know If the damned gave us a road map then we'd know which way to go" Ridge Rider watched the desert horizon through a bulky set of binoculars. The setting sun killed all light, still invisible through the endless layer of clouds that curved over, all the way at the edge of the planet. Half of the planet was covered in the Enclave's clouds, stifling the celestial bodies that had once been worshipped by the continent now blind to them. Ridge Rider had the same wish everyone in Equestria did; he wanted to see the sun, just one time before he died, a glimpse of that which was immortalized on Equus. He wouldn't see the sun for many, many more years. But he did see a distant set of approaching dots, wavy through the heat and haze. He lowered his bandanna, whistling to his partner. "Our first visitors. Two coming, one tall, looks to be a Diamond Dog." "Hmm. Good on them for outlasting the rest of the packs around here." His partner said noncommittally, picking at an entire head of cabbage, wilted and unhealthy, but still undeniably exported recently. Ridge kept his eyes trained through the glass. "Coming on us. Look to be unarmed. Two satchels. The short one is a dusty brown Earth Pony... Aw, hell!" His mood lightened as he lowered his binoculars, stomping on the sand and turning to the campfire. "What? Do they have food?" His cohort perked. "Even better." Ridge smiled, tending again to the campfire, now spitting smoke high to the sky to join with the clouds above. "It's April and Beher. Water." If a pegasus would have stuck their head through the clouds, they may have mistaken the sight below for another night sky. Burning Country was pitch black, perfect for the countless predators that patrolled it; but like the stars that lit paths and constellations above, golden flickers of light dotted the various desert passes below. Beher's career most often kept him from joining the campfires that sprung up at night, but he respected them the same way every resident did. There was no organization, no demand; But every night without fail, the residents who found themselves with wood to spare would spend it, lighting fires that wanderers and vagabonds would draw to. For one night, strangers joined as brothers before parting ways. To a hypothetical pegasus, they were the last barbaric remains of a neanderthal society struggling to stay alive. To Burning Country, they were friendship. "For... if... we don't find... the next whiskey bar... I tell you we must die... I tell you we must die..." Ridge Rider gripped his guitar, expertly strumming thaums from his horn across the strings, measuring pressure to pluck out the needed tune. Around him, several more ponies had accumulated around the fire over the night's course. "We don't seem to be in any hurry of running out of those." One of the gathered pointed out. "How the hell are the bars and mom and pop stores so resilient? You too, Beher, that store's been running for centuries, and all time has done is teeter it." Beher shrugged, leaning against April's pudge as the two huddled around the fire. "If I had to guess? Ministry of Morale liked having their own stores. Owner wanted nothing to escape her gaze, and liked having a foothold in every city across the continent. To stop their real estate from being swooped up and replaced with a bakery or something, every store around here had to be in tip top shape. Any structural, health, or zoning flaw, the Ministry would swoop on that like a vulture and have them shut down within the day thanks to its government influence. Stuff n Things built to last. Through hell, high water, or Balefire Egg-Dropping Bombs." April reached into the blue cooler they had dragged out here, dismayingly noticing the only bottle left in it. Neither of them had wanted to completely scalp the next morning's supply, and had taken the absolute bare minimum to get them through the desert... plus a bit to pass around to the small collective at the fire. The remaining warm, dirty bottle would have to be rationed like the holy grail. They had, in fact tried to use the Water chip, long serenaded by talk of its powers in old tabloids, but the chip remained elusive. For one, It was little more than a gemstone inside a metal casing- all thaumic activity meant to coax out the bonded hydrogen and oxygen was all externally committed by someone who knew how to use it, which was a problem given its rarity. Even if they were willing to pull out the chip in public they still doubted a civilian, to most of whom the ancient art of teeth brushing was lost on, could operate it sufficiently. For safety's concern, the chip was well out of sight now, conveniently if not fashionably stored in April's chest under her shirt. The head had likewise been placed in her bag, lugged out of sight over her shoulder- it could take more of a beating. "You know, I'd reckon that does make sense." Ridge pointed out. "The old bat doesn't seem like the type to budge to any sympathizing bastard." He did his best impression of the Boss's cries to anyone who accidentally tread too close to his house. "My question is, for someone so manic as him, why'd he let you leave?" A round of agreements and 'where are you going?'s echoed around. Beher's eyes flickered away. "We're... just making a delivery." Ridge shot an unconvinced glance to the nearly empty cooler. "You deliver now? Bring me a damn pizza." Another joked to mild chuckles. "Alright, alright." Beher waved his hooves. "Our business is our business. But... we're going to the Carnival." Chuckles died quickly. "Alright... I won't pry. But I don't think you really need it explained to you that the place is creepy." Ridge reminded. "You ever wonder why there are so few raiders in Burning Country?" "Ridge, we're raiders." His cohort reminded. Ridge shook his head violently. "No, no, the alive-people raiders. They raid alive people. We're more... Pirates." "Pirates also raid alive people." "Ah, ah, shuddup!" Ridge turned back to Beher, leaning in dramatically. "You ever wonder what happened to them?" "They left? Because this place is a dump and the ones who think there's still anything left here worth selling are idiots? No offense." Beher leaned back. "None taken. But nah, something worse. Necessity." Ridge hissed. "Carnival's the biggest place around. So many raiders went in to raid, it was practically a rite of passage when I was a lad. Then, Annie moves in. Suddenly, everybody's going in and nobody's coming out. That ain't anything special, is it? Just means she knows how to defend her house. But then, after decades, it re-opens, and Annie? She suddenly has a crew, workers working a kids amusement park. That's special. Annie goes in. The scum of the earth, killers and thieves go in. Annie comes out. Entertainers and clowns come out. You seeing a discrepancy here?" "It went from a fort of death to a 6 year old's birthday party." His cohort added enthusiastically. "But a raider never forgets!" Ridge pointed to the sky confidently. "And they get antsy quickly. Maybe she's rough, but she's one girl. If they're subservient to her, either she's got a damn flesh eating monster under the place, or she's still letting them raid. Organized. Prepared. Alllll underrrrr her." Beher looked around the other, bobbing for a single amused face to let in that this was a campfire tale. He found none. "We gotta do what we gotta do. It's a public place. The rumors certainly haven't killed the business." "It's a popular spot for urban exploring." Ridge dismissed. "Plus, bragging rights. They should start selling shirts. 'I ate at the Abduction Carnival.'" "I think we'll be fine. We go in and out, deal and done. Right, April?" The dog was clutching her stomach again, and he lightly squeezed her leg to calm her down, scratching her fur soothingly until her tail wagged. "We gotta do what we gotta do." She echoed. Ridge nodded happily. "I like that moxy. The Brahmin raisers come along this road in the morning. You stay with us for a bit, we can bargain to get you where you want to be going." "Really? That easily?" "Damn skippy." Beher fished in the cooler for the last bottle. "I think you've earned this one, Ridge." Ridge quickly waved it off. "Nah, nah. That's all you. All in favor? That's what I like to hear." At the agreeing murmurs, Beher sheepishly hugged the bottle to his chest, and Ridge turned back to his guitar. "Here, let's get something happier. The woo-orst person I know!" "Mooother in law." April echoed, snapping from her stupor happily. "Mother in law!" Ridge grinned. "She woo-orries me so! Mother in law! She thinks her word is a contribution, but if she leaves it would be the solution! And don't come back no more!" Empty water bottles were raised to the air triumphantly all around. "Mother in law!" "What is a Balefire-Egg Dropping Bomb, anyway?" Beher and April were squashed between cows. The wood trailer was built to stuff as many cows into a small space, which was impressive given how heavy cows were and how roughly ramshod Burning Country architecture was. There was just enough space for the herder to agree to let them ride in the back as it was rolled between destinations, so long as they left the cooler with the Campfire ponies. Now, forced into a hug, the duo squinted in the shady light that only came through the gaps between wood boards on the walls and ceiling, illuminating choking clouds of dust and flies. All in all, it wasn't too bad- barely different from an outhouse. "It isn't obvious in the name?" Beher pointed out when asked. April snorted, then twitched her sensitive nose at the cow-stench. "Fine, then. What's a balefire egg?" "Another type of bomb." "Celestia, is that all ponies knew how to make?" "Don't be ridiculous. They made guns too." There was a sudden rattle that startled the cows as the trailer stopped, and Beher briefly feared the Brahmin would begin stampeding within the confines. From outside, they heard the Cattler begin talking. "Let's not be hasty. Uh, I'm not really into the whole 'Unity' thing. Mind if we go our own ways, folks?" "Fret not. We have no ill will. We simply want to check your trailer for security reasons." The duo glanced to each other, thoughts jumping to the same subject. "Can't think of anything I'd have of interest. Just transporting some cows, and a few travelers." Beher swore under his breath. Maybe there wouldn't be a reason to take them aside. He doubted it. "No wares being sold? Please allow us to check the trailer anyway. We're looking for something very specific." A set of hoovesteps circled the trailer, stopping at the doors ahead of the huddled pair. Beher quietly took the bag off April's shoulders and slid it under a Brahmin's udder. The doors opened, and light shone in. Beher squinted back, squeezing his friend's paw. "All seems in order. The Goddess thanks you for your cooperation." Beher dared to open an eye, blinking at the trio of Alicorns nodding as one and gently closing the doors. After a few moments of shuffling they were back on the road. Beher caught his breath, retrieving the bag before the cow decided to sit on it. "What in Tartarus was that about?" "Clearly not us. Fuck, I thought I was going to throw up." April admitted. "There have been a lot of Alicorns around lately. I served some yesterday." He recalled. "They're not converting, and they barely looked us over. Didn't even search our bags." "I think that was what the locals call 'luck'." April gently socked Beher across the head. "We may not have that fabled substance next time. We oughta make the most of it." It was impossible to tell which parts of the mural were painted by staff and which by vandals. The centerpiece was a cherry blossom pink mare with stringy, dirty hair strands of a much lighter pink almost verging on white that hung over her face. She smiled forward with a sympathetic, almost despondent Mona Lisa expression. But around her, all bets were off; phallic symbols, kilroys, devil horns, impossibly illegible bubble letters, pentagrams, and tentacles in sensitive areas were doodled in every blank space, not leaving a clue of what color the brick may have been beforehand. They were most likely added on by raiders after the fact, but they certainly fit with the Burning Country approved aesthetic. For a Carnival that billed itself on wanton violence to pander to an audience that expected seven knife fights before breakfast, it wasn't exactly misleading. April and Beher stood at the base, looking up to marvel at the mural's multiplicity of meanings. The parking lot had once been a lot larger, but per Burning Country's modus operandi, half of it was buried in sand. Not that it mattered much, since cars were a thing of the past, and hooves were built for walking on uneven surfaces. Paws, however, found sand to be a bit of a nuisance. "I gotta ask you, man, can the cows talk?" Beher turned back to the cattler as they slipped the straps around their saddle to hit the road. "They can. They just like to pick and choose their words carefully." The cattler confirmed. "You know how creepy that makes the entire ride, right?" "You thought it was creepy? Imagine how the Brahmin felt, with two strangers rubbing up against them, suddenly thrown into their circle of friends." The cattler snorted, before setting off. As the creaking wheels of the carriage cart full of cows that had carried them faded, Beher swiveled and turned for the Carnival's 'opening'. The opening in question was a large metal gate built into the wall alongside a pre-war admission booth built to withstand a bomb blast, which hadn't gone to waste. The glass was covered in scratches, and old posters of the head of Morale herself were scattered in shreds across the wall as they approached. April leaned down awkwardly to Beher's ear level as they approached. "Does this guy look like a raider?" "What does it matter? We're not narcs." He muttered back. "Everyone and their mothers are raiders here, you might as well ask if he's uncastrated. We're not running a sting operation here, we just find where the statue is and scope out some good ways to access it. Does this look like someplace hard to break into?" April tilted her head up, trying to see the top of the wall. "Yes." "That's what they always look like. There's always some backdoor somewhere, and that's where you do your best work. I got this guy who comes in every Wednesday, he will not shut up about lockpicking, maxed it out years ago. I've become a sort of expert." "Okay, but have you done any?" "If I learned a thing from watching someone else do the thing, how would I have learned to man a convenience store from a paraplegic?" "That's got to be easier than lockpicking." "I refuse to believe that. Now calmate, we're getting here." His mutters became whispers became hushed hisses before he perked up to the unicorn at the front gate who seemed inflicted with an awful case of RBF. "Hey! Ah, two please?" The unicorn reached down somewhere, and as they were writing on paper, Beher whistled nonchalantly. "Done... good raiding lately?" The unicorn squinted. "Done good?" Beher bit his lip. "Nevermind." They shook their head. "How old is your friend?" "12." and "35." Both answered at once, shooting looks at each other. April's look said 'Why?' Beher's look said 'We're running this operation on a shoestring budget. Until my paycheck raises, you're twelve.' Beher was better at expressive glances, given the advantage of a complete, undeformed face. "12." The two repeated in tandem. The uncaring unicorn passed an adult and child ticket respectively, and the gates creaked open, groaning like it didn't open multiple times a day. April and Beher crossed out of the heat into the confined shadow of the tunnel boring through the thick walls. At the end lay another set of gates, and as they opened Beher and April's gaits tensed. "We don't know what's through there." April whispered. "Death, destruction, chaos. Abuse and cage matches. Entertainment for the worst. Stay on your guard." The heat met them again as they exited, and sound poured into their ears. The pavilion was an octagon of pavement around a deactivated fountain. At each of the seven ends that didn't extend from the entrance, a path snaked away, sometimes crossing with its siblings, sometimes making detours, sometimes barreling straight for its goal. And what goals they were; food stands, pens with mutated animals, lines for covered booths, smaller buildings leading back into the walls that stretched high to shield the inside. The Carnival was gargantuan, and seemed to extend upwards more than out; rollercoasters, ferris wheels, and other incomprehensibly active machines that made physics work for them, precariously looped around each other like floating strings held aloft by thin but powerful metal bars that extended all the way from the ground floor. Of course, a wasteland standard is far lower than most; had the Carnival operated pre-war in this condition, it would have been shut down instantly. Every ride was caked in rust and screamed like banshees as its passengers rode over them. Dirt and grime and litter trashed the paths, and even as the machines were in use workers crawled over them like weevils to repair the rapidly crumbling parts as they were used. One paying attention may have noticed the lashes on the three headed manticore held by its legs with tight, fur ripping chains. They might have noticed the nail that suddenly shot out of one of the metal bars holding the rides, beaning a park goer in the eye and knocking them out instantly. But to a Burning Country resident, it may have been the most beautiful thing April and Beher had ever seen. Overlooking it all was a giant plastic model of Canterlot Castle, each part cartoonishly overexaggerated, but still compact enough to barely reach a tenth of the actual castle's size. In the Carnival, it was easily the centerpiece, and Beher imagined it served a lot of backstage purposes for workers. And of course, the fountain, bearing a clean stone statue of a rearing headless winged horse. Extending from the neck, barely noticeable, was a plastic tube just the size to fit through the hole they had noticed on head inspection. April and Beher tried to look everywhere at once as they entered, instantly going for the bench closest to the entrance, next to the dancing pony in the raggedy big-headed green alien costume. "Whew…" Beher exhaled. "This… is a lot." "No wonder it's popular." April agreed. "This barely seems like it came out of Burning Country. There are people here." Beher had noticed it too; surely due in part to its location right where the north met the south, but there were an uncanny amount of people gathered here, enough to make his head swim- at least 15 walking around, and likely more lined up or inside a smaller building. And that discounted the workers. "So, scope?" April reminded, lifting the bag from her shoulder and pushing it against Beher to jostle him. "Yeah, right." Beher shook his head. "We'll split ways. We're ordinary tourists." "Right, and I'm an unaccompanied minor." April reminded with a glower. Beher passed a sack of bits to April, pressing it into her side discretely. "Ride the rides, eat the food. Pass the time until the after hours to return the head." "The chip." April grunted, patting her shirt. "The chip-" Beher bit his lip. "It doesn't matter where they think the chip is. The chip is out in the boonies, is all they know. We're absolved of innocence- and we discuss our next part of the plan after we're out of the crossfires." "Second best time to discuss plans. Second to 'right now'." April sighed, sliding the pouch beneath her shirt collar. "Meet back here around lunch, see if we can't get an actual meal?" "That would be nice." Beher agreed. "Probably expensive though." "We'll be here for one day. Take it easy, hun." She reminded. "Don't linger around the petting zoo, or you might be chained up." "Don't stand too still, or the kids might want to take a picture with the dusty statue." "Good one." Beher groaned, taking April's obligatory kiss before the two stood up and parted ways. From his perch at the back of the amphitheater, Beher bit into his modestly priced fried Radigator meat as he watched the action unfold in centerstage, the chosen fighter wrestling the young goat into the ground by his neck. "Wow. I totally misunderstood the name of this event." He muttered to himself. Unexpectedly, the unicorn sitting next to him overheard. "It happens a lot. They would, but there just isn't a big enough supply of children to make that kind of endeavor bear fruit. It's all about risk and reward in the Carnival business." Beher looked left and right, then scooched closer. "I take it you're an expert." "I take it it's your first time!" "Answer mine and I'll answer yours." Beher responded, before reminding himself that this interrogation wasn't supposed to look like an interrogation. "Oh, I come here a lot. My goal is to ride each ride at least twice before I die." "That's a very modest goal." "I expect a very modest lifespan." "That makes sense." Beher leaned in. "Alright, what do you say to a pop quiz?" "Ooh, are they conducting a survey?" The parkgoer's eyes widen excitedly. "I know I am." Beher confidently non-answered. "In the eyes of a customer, how is the park looking on... Security?" "Well, the entire layout was designed by a paranoid old woman in the last stages of her life while on heavy drugs. The walls are several hundred feet thick, and the only entrances are those metal gates. Technically, the top is open, and was often used for hot air balloon entrance back in the day, but there's an electrical grid up there to catch stray pegasi... you know, when those were still a thing that lived on Earth." The parkgoer recited. "Right, go through the gates. When I'm delivering... Uh, knives." Beher stuttered. "They're restocking those? I really worry customer dissatisfaction may lower the lifespan of that particular attraction." The parkgoer tilted his head. "Funny, my worry about attraction lifespan is mostly caused by the knives." The event ended, and Beher found himself caught in the stream of the expert's schedule, meticulously mapped in a pattern spiraling from the outside to the center. Next stop was a ride shaped like rotating shotgun shells, cleaved in half and outfitted with cushions for a cushy conversation amidst the screeching metal against metal. "Alright, how many workers are there?" Beher pressed. "About 40, 50 give or take." "You ever hear any rumors about the workers?" The parkgoer's face turned stoic. "I do. That the Alien costume doesn't have a dedicated actor, and they just use whoever's on hand." "About previous work experience." "None whatsoever. For all I know they were grown in tubes. My knowledge is the same as everyone but Annie's." The spiral span. Carrying on the conversation, the two found themselves at the first coaster, screaming to be heard over the whistling. "Who's the Gummy Memorial Thunderdome named after?" Beher demanded, turning upside down and trying not to listen to the unscrewing bolts. "Original founder's pet alligator." The goer called back. "Number of visitors on the first day?" "Two, a lost kid and Annie riding the toy trains around." "First park co-manager?" "A Mister Noticeably Three-Eyed, since dishonorably discharged from the company. Is this helping your survey?" The goer struggled to turn his head against the G force, looking with a quizzical squint to Beher. "No, this is just really impressive to me. You know a lot about this park." Beher screamed. "I'm making an entire VHS series on the history! Wooooooooo!" The spiral wound down, and as noon approached, Beher jotted his last note on a stray napkin picked up along the way. "This has been enlightening." He admitted. "But I'm still a little lost on Annie herself." "Oh?" The guest munched his cotton candy, looking out from the car of the Ferris Wheel as it lazily carried them over the park from the force of the hamster ball at the center. "I mean, it's an odd choice, to rejuvenate an old amusement park of all things, right? And it's so... civilized." He swept his hoof over the small crowds they were passing over. "Even at its modest size, this is a lot of people to show up to a Carnival barely a few months after it opens, and before it opened... Well, the Wasteland seems cleaner with it around. That's what bothers me." Beher admitted. "It seems weird, doesn't it? Change always does." The parkgoer assured. "A lot of people are used to the gist; strange new place opens, new guy gets a bunch of followers, it just screams cult. But it's really just... safe. Maybe a childish place like this was really what Burning Country's tired population needed to really unite over something. It's already cleaned up the place, inspired business... if anything's gonna start a place that kinda looks like old Equestria when you squint, its somewhere like this. Add in some increased security for the natural threats all of the Wasteland brings, and its easy to see where it comes from." The weight of the head in his bags pulled on Beher's shoulder as he stood and leaned on the side of the car, watching the underneath. 'Kid punching'. They really needed better advertising. "So that's it? It's really just a carnival with beefed security?" "Of course!" The parkgoer paused. "I mean, there's also the Alicorns." "The what?" Beher blinked. "Ladies, gentlemen." A cool female voice that commanded attention sounded out over all the loudspeakers, and the crowds began to amass in the pavilion, looking up to the balcony that extended from the phony Canterlot Castle. As their wheel rotated slowly, Beher and the parkgoer leaned over the barricade to watch. "Dear hearts and gentle people." Beher squinted at the two workers coming out from a door at the back of the balcony, taking their place to flank the exit. It took a second to realize their most striking trait; Eerily, uncannily tall, with long folded wings and horns sharp enough to slice wood. "Friends of Burning Country, Equestria, and nations above and beyond." Then the centerpiece. She was instantly recognizable; pastels were rare in the south. The mural had gotten her pretty well; her bright pink pelt that matched the mare of Morale's to a tee, and the stringy, ratty pale parody of the same hue that she called a mane. Her tail didn't even have a curve to it like most ponies; instead, it extended a half inch off her flank before dropping like a rock. Still, despite that, the rest of her was a prim display of appearance, smartly groomed and poise held like a princess ready to make a speech- which, as it turned out, was her intention. If it distracted from the sight of Alicorns, it did its job well- but few seemed bothered by them, implying it was at least partly a common sight. "I welcome back any old visitors, and greet any new ones." Her eyes scanned the crowd. "We run a tight ship here, and I apologize to you for any cultural clashes you may have experienced while here. For our purposes, you may call me Anarchy Abduction. My friends call me Annie." The crowd was up in an uproar, workers and visitors alike stomping their approval. "This-" she waved her arms in sweeping gestures, instantly silencing the noise. "-Is the Carnival; like all things, it wasn't ours originally. It was first built by someone very terrible, whose propaganda still corrupts our Wasteland with lies of the past. Come the apocalypse, it was unwillingly released to a public who squandered its purposes. Then, me. While the previous owners no longer have jurisdiction, many of them can still be felt in these walls, the bones of the past under us all. It's what my mother used to call a Fixer Upper." She smiled kindly before her eyes took on a grim expression. "You see, friends, despite its history, this place has what no other place in Burning Country has; a tiny shred of pre-war Equestria, that stood tall against the bombs that tore apart our world. Centuries ago when the infamous BED Bomb was fired at Burning Country, I've settled here because I see what all of you see; this place did not stand that tall to be infested with rats, creatures burrowing beneath it to loot and breed in like parasites." She hissed the words, and the entire crowd tensed with her energy. "It stood to fight back, like a flower in the sand, battling against whatever time may bring to grow its roots across the country. Ozymandias has woken up, and he intends to take back what was stolen from him. I intend to take back what was stolen from me, and the youth of tomorrow, with a little help." She raised her head, proud smile returning as she closed her eyes to absorb the hoof stomping below. "Burning Country is a tumor, but recovery is possible; and that starts with a place for our youth to grow. We may seem barbaric, but only because the leaders of tomorrow started as the followers of today. I've made myself known by giving you what you want; Now, I intend to give you what you need. Give all of us what we need, not just Burning Country, but all of Equestria. We need recovery. We need life. And it begins with one foothold of civilization, spreading out and unfolding into a land of freedom." She opened her eyes, and leaned forward, facing the crowd below directly. "I love you all. I love Burning Country. I think, when forced to choose, we all do." The car touched down. "See you here tomorrow?" The parkgoer beamed. "Hey guys, hey, coming through, Diamond Dog, don't mind me..." April delicately muscled her way through lines, adjusting to the high volume of people slowly while clearly standing out- she swore she even heard a 'Hey, is that April?' from one of the parkgoers as she tried to find some place to settle down and blend in. The park was built around the paths that zig-zagged between attractions, larger on the outside and going in to the bare minimum, food stands around the Carnival. April was trying not to let anything catch her eye, far too aware of her inability to ignore the types of kiddy games advertised here- how often did you find a working pinball machine in Burning Country?- and instead kept herself walking aimlessly along the paths. It felt wrong to play here like she was another tourist. Like she hadn't killed someone who worked here. April shook her head. Her shortsightedness seemed to have led her off the path, and she looked down in annoyance at the pavement that kept getting buried out of sight under the sand. She didn't seem to be the only one who had ever been lost here; footsteps criss-crossed willy nilly where the pavement left. And following those footsteps, a trail of cleared sand, like a dragged object. April curiously followed the path, fitting her feet into it to try and gauge what something this large could be, so callously dragged through the sand after apparently having been carried the first half of the journey. Or... dropping out of the sky? The path began in the middle of the criss-cross of footsteps of countless visitors, and didn't seem to have a viable origin point. Following it behind a metal building, April peered over to where it led- a metal hatch laid diagonally against the back concrete wall. April felt her paws at it, trying to fit them under the hoof-sized handle at one end, and grunting in annoyance. Finally it slid open, and she took a step back with a pant, peering down the stone steps into the tunnels underneath. Technically, it could've been a room- she could barely see a foot down. But her money was on tunnels- it would explain why she saw so few workers moving between locations. Preserved the magic, she supposed. Something pressed against her back and she turned with a yelp, meeting an all-too-big smiling face. "Howdy, stranger! Gotten lost?" She exhaled in relief. The alien mascot was still dancing some kind of improvised jig, clearly weighed down by the heavy outfit in muggy heat. "Uh... No, I-I just lost my way. The sand..." "Aw, that's a darn shame! You wanna come back with little old me and play skee-ball?" "I'm... an adult..." April awkwardly deflected. The Alien Costume kept dancing, unnerving smile staring into her. On second thought, it was better to take the ride back and hopefully deflect suspicion. Surely she wasn't the first customer to find such an obvious hatch. "...You have skee-ball?" "Come on, up and over..." "Your hoof is smushing my nose..." April groaned as Beher lifted his hindleg over the top of the gate, and pushing off her snout, pulled himself over to fall to the sand below with a huff. A minute later, the empty control booth was commandeered, and the gates were opened. Hanging around the park hadn't been as viable of an option, and Beher doubted there were hotels; the majority of the guests also didn't seem sure where to go when they left, and Beher was sure he had caught a few lingering suspiciously long by the gates without actually crossing them. When night had fallen, it was time to finally put their plan to work. "Easier than I expected." Beher admitted as the two reunited. "Shouldn't there be guards?" "Count your blessings, Beher, things don't always go this well for us." April reminded. "Now please please please, tell me you have the head." The flap of the bag opened, and April peered inside, exhaling gladly and running a shaking paw over her brow. This was it; nut up or shut up. Beher's flashlight beam swept across the Carnival's empty attractions, catching in contrast the clouds of dust that seemed to emanate from the ground. At night, the creaking of suspended rickety beams overhead became far more imposing- paradoxically when passengers, in all reality, made it more dangerous. A threat existed; Beher just preferred to see it when it was coming. "I can hear you humming, if you can get whatever song's in your head out for five seconds..." Beher hissed after recovering from a brief heart drop. "Music calms me down." April defended. "You saw the speech she gave, right?" Beher spoke up. "It was kind of hard not to. She even had loudspeakers in some of the buildings, best I heard. But what about it? It seemed like a history lesson. At least it answered a few questions." Beher shook his head. "That wasn't all. Alicorns. Working for a mortal. It's like cats working for a rat, and apparently they've become normal over about a month since they first showed up." "Don't be mean to them." "I mean them SHOWING UP is normal. 'Delegations', they've been called. That's all I found out when I asked." "You heard Annie- she wants to rebuild society, starting from her vantage point. Well, a guard of unkillable mini-gods are a pretty good way to go about that from the safety of your own home." Annie pointed out in her dull whisper. "But why do the Alicorns care? If anything, they'd want the opposite. You've heard how they get their rocks off to Unity. Annie must have something they want, and are willing to bide their time for. Something they're actively looking for." He added in reminder. "What the hell could be valuable out here?" "I don't know, but if such a thing as value exists in Burning Country, Annie's gonna hoard it." April pondered. One side lit by ghastly yellow light, the headless Celestia statue still dripped the last remains of water from the phallic pipe as they approached, wings spread white and legs lifted to kick the air, appeared more like an angry spirit than a triumphant majesty. April and Beher took a few seconds to let the sight sink in before the dog nudged her companion out of his stupor. "C'mon, Ichabod." April stepped a paw into the dry bed surrounding the base, and crouched down with her hands cupped out to Beher. "Not the face this time." She hissed. Beher hugged his forelegs around April's neck with an oomph as his body was lifted, practically suplexed back to come face to face with where the head should be and scrambling around his bags, taking the head and dropping the rest into the bed. April sighed and shifted her shoulders as weight was shed. "I'm gonna turn around. More back support." She whispered, getting an affirmative tap on her shoulder in response. Lifting Beher by his flanks, April turned around to lean on the statue with her paws on its neck. "C'mon, c'mon..." She whispered forcefully. Beher rested the head on, carefully lining up the edges to find it fit like a glove onto the tube- only to realize it needed to be screwed on, taking it off, and readjusting to make sure the head faced forward. "It's on!" With an exhale, April folded, her squishy body catching Beher like a pillow as they collapsed into a heap and nurturing her sore shoulders. "We did it." Beher sighed happily, cradling his head. "We did it." April flashed a fang. "High five?" The two raised their respective limbs and slapped them together. A loud slap echoed from the impact point through the derelict park. Twin flashlight beams kicked on, facing directly towards them. "Good morning." A feminine voice icily greeted. "Park's closed, ladies and gentlemen." Against the blinding light, April adjusted first, squinting at the pink-maned woman watching them, flanked by the two flashlight carrying workers. She sucked air in sharply. "That might've been me." She sheepishly admitted, recalling the mascot. "Both of you, actually." Annie smiled cordially. "Don't discuss secret plans on a park bench in broad daylight." "I'll get the other guy." A single hushed sentence from behind him was the only noise Beher was sure he had actually heard during the voyage through the tunnels he had been ushered into under a metal panel behind one of the attractions. Fear had kept him moving forward, but until he exited, he wasn't even sure the guards were still behind him, although April's incessant sniffing betrayed her position. Alone in its isolation, his brain had invented noises for him to hear- he was fairly certain there was nothing slithering down there, for the simple fact that if there was, it would have killed him on the spot with his luck. So further and further they went into the warm, vaguely meat-scented tunnel that felt like diving down something's throat. As suspected, the castle's interior clearly wasn't meant for public viewing. It was almost entirely wooden structural support for the plastic shell meant to go over it. But after the brief claustrophobic journey through the tunnels, the castle was a welcome relief of moonlight. The panel that led into the hollow interior was lifted and Beher was given no subtle reminder that he was still at gunpoint. He kept moving, and was surprised to find Annie hadn't exited with them, although it didn't seem to perturb the guards. His best guess was that she had gone on ahead of them, as she hadn't spoken a word the entire time since they had been sealed into the dark. The only discernible landmark in the unfinished labyrinth was the polished entrance to the balcony he had previously seen Annie speak from, and their apparent destination wasn't too far from it. "Sit." They were instructed. Wasn't like there was much else to do. Beher was pissed, to say the least. It felt like twice now they had been so close to getting this off their chest and going back to the safety and comfort of the Stuff n Things. But then again, suppose they had succeeded; they were at the end of his 'plan'. The next step was to con the businessman a third time- evil or not, she still had a hell of a muscle division- and then pray everything worked out alright. The message of the story was starting to feel clear to him. "Do you guys know a Shackleset?" April quietly asked from next to him. A door so cleanly cut from the wood they had barely noticed it opened, and they were ushered into the only part of the phony castle that passed for a 'room'. The walls and floors were actually painted, furniture had been moved in, but every piece seemed to point in towards the centerpiece; Annie herself behind her desk at the back. Chairs were pulled out. Beher sat up straight, made eye contact, and kept his breathing level. Annie licked her lips, cleared her throat, and began calmly. "Three days ago, the head of our centerpiece statue was stolen under us from someone too oblivious to realize we recorded the entire thing. Two days ago, one of my own ventured out to track them down and kill them. Today, two guests are caught attempting to reattach the head. There's a discrepancy here. Would you do me a favor and spot it?" There was a game here. Beher's move. Customer service time. "Your underling is dead. A resident recently began breeding Radscorpions, and... you know how deadly they can be." A believable lie, with alibi and proof should she choose to look. Annie didn't seem to buy what was being sold. Her stare made her place on the food chain clear; she was at the top, and anyone else was on the bottom, miles below her. "And you took it upon yourself to take the head?" "Politeness is Burning Country policy." "And yet you weren't polite enough to come to me, face to face. Or one of my workers. You chose to sneak in under cover of darkness and attempt to do the heroing yourself, which, might I be the one to tell you, is exactly what the original thief took it upon themselves to do." Annie retorted, gesturing slowly in a small circle. Play to what she wanted. "I hope you aren't offended by me saying so, but... I was scared. You certainly make a presence for yourself." "None taken." Annie gesticulated a lot when she talked; her hooves always found somewhere to be, currently at her lower lip. "But I find your wording curious. 'I' was scared." She turned to April. "Is there anything you'd like to add?" Beher kept a poker face, slowly turning to April, who was not. Damned twisted jaw- he briefly considered using that excuse, but you didn't have to be an expert to realize it was more than that. She was tightly clutching her stomach again, shifting uneasily away from a spot on the chair's back, and her blinking was rapid and tight. "I don't often see dogs here. They used to be a lot more common, I'm sure you know. They didn't adapt well to the heat, the shallow ground, the predators... Your very existence is impressive. What's your name?" Annie pressed. April faltered at this, stuttering unsurely, until- "April." The room turned to the worker who had talked, who straightened his posture obediently when his boss's eyes fell on him. "You know this one?" Annie inquired. The worker took a breath. "She's... rather famous around here. I mean... she, she's a community worker. For the community." Shit. Nobody was going to recognize a convenience store worker. A girl whose appearance was half of her job, that was a different story. Must everything work against him? "April." Annie tasted the word, turning back to the seated. "That's a lovely name, although I may be a bit biased. Were you with your friend...?" "Beher." He amended. "...Your friend when he discovered my underling?" Lie lie lie lie lie- She asked the guards if they knew Shackle when they came in. Tell the truth tell the truth tell the truth tell the truth "Yes." April nodded with a heavy weight to her chin's fall, and Beher turned back calmly. "Remind me again, April... how did he die?" Annie felt for her own chin. April took a steady breath. Her fur dampened in a streak down her forehead. Her nose twitched. Her grip on her stomach tightened. Under the desk, Beher patted her leg discretely. April blinked. "Radscorpion got him. He was dead in seconds." Annie nodded. "May I have the head?" The sculpture was retrieved from the saddlebags, and passed across the desk to Annie, who inspected it over, before humming in satsifaction. "I see no reason to delay you any further. Thank you for your kind act. You've helped me a great deal." Annie smiled genuinely, and nodded her respect. "We're in the middle of a rather important process, and things have been hectic lately. I apologize for my rudeness. That being said, I'll still have to ask you to leave. Would you like an escort?" Beher and April stood quickly, fumbling for their bags. "Ah, no, that's okay. We're quite alright." Beher assured, opening the door behind him. "It was no trouble. We'll... be sure to come back some time." Both filed out, and the door was closed. Annie stared at the exit for another minute. Neither of her guards moved as she turned back to the head, peeking an eye into the hole at the base of the neck and inspecting it with a delicate hoof. She shook it, listening to the hollow emptiness. Annie inhaled deeply before regaining her composure. "Shoot to kill. Bring me their corpses, please." She instructed. The two workers flipped the safety off their weapons. Annie sat back in her chair, resting her hooves at her chin again. If it wasn't one thing, it was the other, it seemed. Her initial plan was to have all her loose ends wrapped up by tomorrow in time for dinner. She may have had to push it a little overtime, she mused, but at the end of the day the result was the same. Soon enough, the pest would be gone, and she could get to work on the rest. She didn't like these respites from work, no matter how brief. It gave her time to think. "We did it!" "Hell yeah, April!" Beher cheered, rearing onto his front legs to kick the air behind him. "You did great!" "Doggod, I thought I was going to throw up!" April panted, one arm wrapping around Beher's barrel and pulling him into a tight bone breaking hug. "But you didn't! You pulled it off spectacularly! We're in the clear!" Beher gasped with the relief of a 10 pound weight off one's back. "We're in the clear!" April howled to the moon unrestrained, then pulled her smaller buddy in for a kiss. There was a bang, then a shoop of something speeding right through the inch-wide distance between their lips. Beher's mouth fell open. "Run." A reload clicked behind them as April seized Beher like a football and bolted for it, ducking behind a row of food carts down main street under the assumption they wouldn't shoot their own property. That hope turned out to be misplaced. Wood chips exploded through a particularly thin popcorn stand, just where April had been. Clutching the pony to her chest, she jumped into a roll behind the beheaded Celestia statue, scampering on three limbs towards the entry gates. Another shot cleaved through one of the metal bars on the gate. Without stopping, April shifted her hands to Beher's belly and rump, and chucked him over the gate with all her force before shifting kinetic energy into her shoulder to slam through the metal. Clang. Turned out to be sturdier than she expected. "GET THE CONTROLS!" April screamed, clutching the bars frantically as Beher ran for the controller's booth. The bottom of the first gate creaked open, and April shrank from another missed shot before flattening herself like a rat and squirming under. Beher let go of the crank he was spinning as he was grabbed again, and the wheel spun back to close the second gate just as April slid through the wider gap. That would buy them some seconds, but it wasn't like they could lock the guards in their own building. April's pads slapped against the recently cooled pavement as she crossed the parking lot into the sand dunes, immune to Beher's squirms and cries of "I can run, damnit!" "There's nowhere to hide! It's too flat!" April gasped. Her physiology gave her an edge on speed, but the majority of the doggish agility she could have had was cancelled out by her weight. "Too much to call on a pegasus again?" Beher crossly growled. One dune was ever so taller than the rest. April slid down the curve, dropping Beher to roll in a heap next to her, both of them covered in sand. Already they could hear the gates opening, less than a hundred feet away. April grabbed her knees, shaking. "W-We fucked up. I don't know how, but we fucked up." "She was on to us from the start, but never mind the bigger picture. We need to keep her guards from stomping us like bugs!" Beher jumped onto April's lap, grabbing her chin and looking desperately into her eyes. April faltered, gulping and thinking quickly. Only a foot away, a gun was trained on the back of each their heads. The worker with the battle saddle grinned as he fit both of them at the end of each his barrels, taking the trigger in his mouth and opening wide to bite down with a vengeance. "Halt, citizen!" The worker turned around. Clad in a deep lavender hood, with a long purple hat and a swooping cloak, the masked man blended perfectly into the night, although not so much into the sand. "Who the hell are you?" The worker blinked. "The stallion of the night, protector of the wasteland, Mare Do Well! Let us not resort to violence! How may I help you, citizen?" Without another thought, the worker took out a knife and drove it through the idiot's halloween costume, watching them drop bemusedly. Not even worth a wasted bullet. When the worker turned away from the suited idiot and realigned his shot, his targets were gone. He dumbfoundedly scratched his head, crossing to where they had been and looking all around. Nothing but sand dunes and the Carnival in the direction he had come from for miles. Shaking his head exasperatedly, he spit out the trigger on the reins and turned back to his partner to deliver the bad news. Several minutes after his footsteps had faded, April's head burst out from the ground, sand exploding around her as she coughed. "'They didn't adapt to the shallow ground'. Screw you, Annie. Don't doubt a dog again." She spat. Saving herself had been easy. Burrowing underground was second nature to a Diamond Dog. Saving Beher had been significantly harder. Footnote: Level Up! (90) New Perk Added: Sh-Boom - Firearm proficiency increased. Not usage- Identification. The metal object being pointed at you? Yeah, that's a gun.