Chapter Ten
Some things are best mentioned early by prerogative rather than explained later by necessity. Sharing something about one’s self is preferable to having it be exposed.
Falcon Wing bounded out of what used to be a grocery store, saddle bags packed with a small bounty all of his own. Steiner was waiting on the other side of the street in a battle stance: legs spread wide, eyes peeled, sweeping the guns at his side back and forth to cover the store and the rest of the street. He stood behind a barricade of mangled metal and concrete chunks. A dark gray helmet with silver lining was on his head, his burning eyes visible through the clear visor that curved upwards to accommodate his snout.
“Any trouble in there?” Steiner asked Falcon when the red pony was standing at his side and taking cover; lending his own eyes to the unicorn’s vigil.
“A few raiders, I was able to sneak past them and Klaxon… well. He does what he does…” Falcon Wing answered.
Klaxon did not like to kill and only drew the well maintained 10 millimeter he had in the strapped holster when he couldn’t avoid a firefight. That did little to stop him from his preemptive strikes, hitting unsuspecting raiders like a truck and putting them down without a sound.
The last week consisted of all these training runs. Klaxon taught Falcon Wing how to be stealthy and the trio went on scavenger outings; Steiner took up fire support and lookout duty while the earth pony stallion and young pegasus colt went on their missions. On that first day, Steiner gave Falcon his protection and bags.
The red colt wore a black coat of sorts. It was very light yet covered a lot of the pony. It was more like a leather vest with a hood and cape that draped off of his body but was not ridiculously long. The coat covered where his wings would be, shielding what remained of them from the world. Likewise they covered his saddle bags and tail. They were not exceptionally large and couldn’t hold as much as Klaxon’s bags, the two stallions accounting for Falcon’s less than spectacular frame. He had a striking stature for a colt his age, taller and longer than average but very lithe. His vest sported the bandoliers similar to those of Klaxon’s own.
Klaxon exited the ruined store after a short while, the sliding screen door locked in the closed position but the screen smashed in long ago by the raiders who claimed the large building as their own. A few yards on either side of the building, a line of landmines had been planted and disguised by debris and rubble. Klaxon found and disarmed each one on his scouting pass before the trio’s operation was put in effect. Steiner made quick work of the guards and while the others were on edge about the attack, the earth pony and pegasus infiltrated, relying on light hoofsteps and darkness to aid them.
By the end of the gathering, a large portion of the raiders had been either shot by Steiner and their bodies lay on the streets and just past the busted screen door or they had been swiftly dispatched by Klaxon’s own hooves. Falcon swiped their stash of medical supplies, healing bandages and health potions a-plenty. His extensive dealings with the doctor had proved useful after all! In addition to that, canned and boxed foods were in no shortage between the stallion and colt, though Klaxon had taken other supplies as well, some supplied by looted bodies.
“You did good today. Damn good” Klaxon praised in an even voice when he too was behind the makeshift barrier. “Didn’t hear a peep from your direction at all, almost forgot you were in there with me. Almost.”
“Did I mess up somewhere?” Falcon asked earnestly. In the shadow of his hood, his face had a nervous expression. Any mistake, any trace he left of his presence could potentially make a scavenging run end in disaster. He had to strive to do better! He had to BE the silence! BE the shadow!
“Nah, you did fine with what I taught you about being silent and keeping out of sight. It’s just that I’d have to be one huge dumbass donkey to forget about a pony I’ve been doing this with for the past seven days” Klaxon whinnied dismissively.
“…Oh” Falcon replied. He was prepared to swear that he would improve and not make the same mistakes again as he had at the end of the other missions. He was willing to spend hours going over notes he written when he was back at the cellar, notes he kept in one of the small cabinets near the welcoming mat turned bedding.
“You almost sound disappointed,” Steiner chimed. He was joking but his voice never betrayed it, still low and somewhat ominous, keeping the others on high alert. They can let their guards down as much as they could afford back home. On the street and in the open was not the place to chat.
“It’s not that I’m not happy that I did so well, I really am considering I’ve only been here for a bit over a week --“
“Hold up,” Klaxon interjected. “We found you just a week ago. You mean to tell me that Steiner and I found you not too long after
you left the Cloud Curtain? That you were not born in the Wasteland?”
“You’re actually from one of the pegasus cities? You know what it’s like above the clouds?” Steiner questioned, the revelation breaking his concentration on their surroundings.
“Not the best place to discuss this!” Falcon said pleadingly. He had a feeling he had a lot of explaining to do and he’d rather do it in the safety of the underground than opposite the shooting and robbing of raiders. Thinking of what had transpired there and what had transpired elsewhere over the week in that light sent a shudder down the pegasus colt’s spine. Was he learning how to be a raider’s raider? Sure he hadn’t killed anypony yet but…still…
The walk back to the outskirts of town had been a treacherous one. Raider groups clad in their despicable outfits and armors were scouring the Ponyville ruins be it by their own volition or an active search by their parties to find the ones responsible for the killing of their peers and pilfering of supplies. Falcon found the frequency of the near encounters with the savage ponies alarming, his suspicions leaning over to the latter possibility. And since the trio had struck out against various bandit groups…
Klaxon, Steiner and Falcon crept through alleys and slunk through the remnants of houses with giant holes in the walls, keeping out of sight while enemies battled it out in the Wasteland gloom, the sounds of their guns echoing loudly. A chance break in the clouds allowed for streams of golden afternoon light to shine down on the turf wars but -- as Falcon knew would happen -- the clouds billowed and rolled back into place. The gloom’s grip on the land below was reaffirmed.
The three closed in on the rundown building, Klaxon took up his role as sentry as Steiner and Falcon Wing dropped into the lair through the dumpster then followed himself. Several yards further out, beyond the train tracks but still not quite at Sweet Apple Acres were newly dug graves. The three had risked entering the death trap of a building to gather the long departed and give them a proper burial.