//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Metal Heads // Story: Fallout Equestria: Second Wind // by TinkerChromewire //------------------------------// Google Docs Link "Metal Heads" They dishonor the memory of their ministry, they are traitors to their own uniforms. Things back at Harmenhope Hospital weren’t  all sunshine and rainbows. During the night two patients had died, their bodies were wrapped in linen and put in large trash liners before being carted off to the Morgue at platform 3E. Murdoc was in an indifferent mood, shaking out a polaroid picture he had taken of each patient and putting both up with sticky tack on a bare place on the wall. He wrote the day in the lower right corner in thick black ink and went back to his rounds, treating his other patients and walk-ins with grim determination.         For the first time ever Gangrene was quiet, solemn in the aftermath of two expirations. She looked tired, her mane was matted with perspiration. One of the deaths was of another nurse who had been handling care for others that were sick. She had contracted something and had hidden her symptoms, dying sometime early this morning. Gangrene was flush, worried that she may have gotten sick as well from contamination. She claimed she had been careful, never touching patients directly and using alcohol to sanitize everything, still she needed a bit of time alone to think and to handle paperwork. They still had paperwork a hundred years after the war, it seemed like a waste of time to me. I left the small hospital and found PNK-3 waiting for me outside the wrought iron gate. Just what I needed, death followed by a cheerful jaunty about something I didn’t care about. I wondered if she had a cheerful tune about stomach ulcers somewhere in the messy jumbled mind of hers.         ‘’Good morning!’’ The bauble chimed to me in a sing-song voice. “I’m really happy to see you!” I pushed the gate open and slammed it shut behind me. “That makes one of us. This morning won’t be good unless I have some good news.” The spritebot sang in a cheerful voice that fit her color perfectly. ‘’Oh yes, good news! Let me give you some! There are four birthdays today I get to go and celebrate!’’ PNK-3 swayed in the air, bouncing with excited glee. ‘’I meant good news for me, specifically for me.’’ I groaned, feeling utterly lost when trying to talk to this aggravation. PNK-3 fell silent and stopped moving. ‘’Thought so.’’ I added bitterly. ‘’Is Mechanic there?’’ ‘’You’re so mean mister! You really need to try smiling for a change, cranky pants.’’ The robot chastised me to try being more cheerful, though I was baffled why ‘pants’ were mentioned since I didn’t wear pants. Most ponies didn’t bother wearing pants. ‘’I’ll put him on, he wanted to talk to you!’’ A soft crackle of static hissed over the radio, a fizzle and pop heralded the arrival of Mechanic’s voice, ‘’That’s why PNK-3 is here. So I could talk to you. I have some good news for you. Also I hear you didn’t have any luck recruiting anyone. Guess that means it’s just us, Mister Slinky.’’ I winced, recalling my time at the bar yesterday as noteworthy. “Yeah, good ol’ Greenvale hospitality.” My dialog dripped with sarcasm, “Is the good news that you’ll be sending me a different messenger next time?” “Nah, good guess though. PNK-3 is the best messenger I’ve got right now. Give me a few moments to double check my facts on this.” I could hear a few mechanical beeps and soft tones of a computer doing calculations, the spritebot gave a soft chime and the Mechanic spoke again, ‘’After double checkin’ and callin’ inna favor I found someone that might know a lil somethin’ somethin’ about where Muffin Cake stays at in the industrial park. It’s a more recent lead too, so that saves time and resources. The Highscore Arcade on the corner of 5th Avenue and Trotsworthy street. Pretty easy to spot, a mare named ‘Record Wrecker’ runs it.’’ ‘’What are you waiting for? Can’t you send a robot out there or something?’’ That should be incredibly straightforward. Robots were built to handle the three ‘D’type jobs that ponies didn’t want to do. Jobs too Dull, Dirty, or Dangerous for normal workers. This might fit all three if it meant trekking into the wastes to ‘check in’ on a lead. ‘’That ‘or somethin’ is gonna be you. I don’t got the resources tah spare so willy nilly. One raider is all it takes to trash a spritebot. I can’t spare one of my bigger toys since I need them here for emergencies. You’re the next best thing to heavy metal interference.’’ He assured me, ‘’And aren’t you gettin’ restless hangin around?’’ He was right about me getting restless. A hundred rounds at tin cans had not cured the wanderlust. They call it wanderlust, idiot, not stand-there-and-shoot-cans-to-feel-better-lust. I mentally corrected myself, that was ten seconds of thinking I’d never get back. ‘’Don’t assume things, it just makes you out to be a mule.’’ I defended. Yeah, I was being a jerk. Why? Because I hated this job.             ‘’Well aren’t you a barrel of sour cider?’’ Mechanic huffed over the speakers, ‘’And the expression’s ‘It makes an ass of you n’me.’ Just give me a hand here.’’ Thank You for the correction, poindexter.         ‘’Hand? Oh, ha-ha, you’re a real comedian. I’ll do it, I need to take my aggression out on something anyway.’’ I waved a hand gauntlet in the bauble’s constantly-smiling face.         ‘’It’s just an expression.’’ Mechanic replied gruffly, ‘’No need to get nasty.’’         “I think the explosive around my neck is cause enough for me to be snippy.” I gestured to the collar with a digit, poking it gently, “You Greenvale ponies are real slave drivers. Literally.”          The gate creaked open behind us and Gangrene joined me on the sidewalk. She was wearing her armored metal barding and had her rifle slung over her shoulder. ‘’I really hate paperwork.’’ She stated mournfully, ‘’Murdoc wanted it done right away.’’ She took notice of PNK-3. ‘’What’s with the bullet magnet?’’ She was either very fast at paperwork or the paperwork was simple.           ‘’That’s PNK-3.’’ I introduced them to one another with a quick wave, waving a gesture to the floating bauble that never ceased it’s unnerving smile. ‘’I’d think even bullets would try avoiding this thing.’’ She’d likely talk them out of the air or through some power unseen never cease blathering even if she was more holes than robot.         ‘’I’m Mechanic, currently remote pilotin’ this unit. You must be Gangrene. Hear you got a rep as a tough broad.’’ The tinny voice rang out swiftly.         ‘’Aw, are you a Hoofer Vacuum? Because you must suck a lotta dick to sweet talk like that.’’ Gangrene retorted snidely, she wasn’t in the mood to be patronized. ‘’You’re the brains that keeps this place running aren’t you? Got anything for us?’’         ‘’Ouch, you two are in a funk today. Yeah, I have information. I told Steelgraft where to follow up the lead on ‘Tubba Bubba’.’’ The way Mechanic talked was chuckle-inducing. Toughness forced into every syllable artificially by that city-slicker swagger.         “While I’m thinking about it, mind telling me what you know about my box?” I wanted to know what I was supposed to do with that special box. And by special I meant stupid. That’s a bit harsh. I really needed to stop arguing with myself mentally.         ‘’We can yak after you follow up on that lead. Got shit to do.’’ The mysterious stallion chimed over the speakers. I could hear the echoes of work going on in the background and music playing over the sound of tools running. Music featuring Sweetie Belle’s voice sidled up to the sound of industrial revolution. If he thought I was just going to forget about that box, he had another thing coming. I wasn’t sure what that thing would be, but it would be something unpleasant if he tried to keep my strange black box.         ‘’Where’s the lead?’’ The yellow punk mare asked, pulling open her saddlebag to pull out a small tub of industrial machine lubricant. She applied a glob to her mane and tail, the metamorphosis profound as it was simple. She put a smudged line of black under each eye.         ‘’Highscore Arcarde.’’ Mechanic informed her without a moment of pause. ‘’Good luck n’ such. I gotta go.’’ A fizzling pop of static blossomed from the speakers with another twin fingers of ghostly smoke. PNK-3 was back in control. ‘’Oh! Guess you’re done. I have birthday ponies to go sing for!’’ The pink robot went on it’s merry way. At least someone was going to have a good day, maybe PNK-3 gave out presents or had a cake dispenser? Let them eat cake! Food shortages probably meant parties were lackluster compared to pre-war bashes. You didn’t ask about the Recording! The little voice in my head nagged me. Hind sight was always 20/20. More pressing matters at hoof! Or hand. Buck you Mechanic, pointing out the obvious. I gave Gangrene a pensive glance. “Why are you slicking up your mane and tail? It looks better without the grease jello.” The mare snorted and whinnied dismissively, ‘’Yeah, looks real pretty. Pretty ain’t gonna make raiders or travelers wary. I need to look the part if I’m going to act like a bandit.’’ ‘’So the tough bandit Viper Gangrene’s just an act?’’ A smirk creeped onto my lips, one that unsettled the yellow mare. She slammed her side into me roughly as she stalked into the street, ‘’More like an improv with bullets and a hoof tapping diddy at the end. Quit flapping gums and move tail. We have ground to cover.’’ ‘’Yes sir ma’am sir!’’ I patronized her and received a glance full of daggers. We left Greenvale Heights via the massive gates that dropped into the ground, powered by massive hydraulic pistons that rumbled with power. The large sign that greeted me when I had first arrived carrying the critically wounded Gangrene reminded me of the tense moment a little over a week ago. Now it was tense for different reasons--Namely the explosives latched to my face. By the time we were three blocks away I realized I’d never asked what the range of my collar was, if there was a range. Baroness Bluff had to give me enough range to get to the Industrial Park, I had nothing to fret over unless I tried fleeing from this problem into the wastes. Not an option, no idea how to get the explosive collar off. There was always decapitation! Which I would definately not live through. At least the collar was a lovely shade of craptastic brown. “You know what I just remembered?” Gangrene asked me as we rounded on 5th street. “All those weapons and swag we didn’t bag off those raiders last week.” She turned her head to spit, “What a fuckin’ waste.” Scavengers had picked everything clean by now. Seven days was more than enough time to collect everything of value and leave. Maybe they even posed the bodies in funny post-mortem positions or used them to make ‘art’ like the wailing walls in the Dead Zone, only with less wailing. ‘’That extra cash would be nice, jingling in our pockets.’’  I commented passively. ‘’I had dibs.’’ She growled, angry at her bad fortune. Hot snorts flared her nostrils and every step she took was a firm, angry stomp. She kicked a tin can that dared to be in her way down the street. ‘’You’re going to attract attention. The raider kind.’’ I warned her, keeping my eye on the road ahead of us. Large storefronts greeted us on either side, boarded up but obviously already looted and bare. The Highscore Arcade was a perilous 16 blocks away from Greenvale Heights said to be fraught with pitfalls and wandering bandits. So far the only dangers were unimpressive shallow potholes and the only bandit here was Gangrene, both had their failings at being an actual hazard. Well, the small potholes weren’t that hazardous. ‘’Raiders are just couriers delivering me their stuff for the low price of a few bullets.’’  She sassed, tilting her head back and splattering the armor on her withers with thick black grease. She leapt up onto the curb of the sidewalk and trotted along it, taking the lead. A few more store fronts, nothing eye-catching drifted past the edges of my vision in a dull blur. ‘’This arcade, what’s it like?’’ I tried to create some small-talk to pass the time, boredom was the only enemy I had to contend with at the moment. That and the occasional radroach, as creepy as they were, they weren’t all that hard to deal with. Step, crunch, and trot on. ‘’Flashing lights, beeping machines. Ticket prizes...massive turret security system.’’ She answered. The mare gave me a playful shove as she hopped down from the curb. ‘’I have the highscore on Dance Dance Pony: V-Beats Syndrome.’’ She boasted, she spun and cracked me in the face with her tail, leaving a streak of grease on my cheek. That was no accident, she was doing that on purpose. And every time she did, her tail flicked up just slightly, barely drooping to maintain her modesty. I didn’t like Viper Gangrene as much as I liked Medic Gangrene. I wiped the streak of grease off my face with my sleeve and sighed. ‘’We all need our hobbies.’’ I affirmed, hopping over a mailbox that was in my way in the street. ‘’This arcade sounds like it hasn’t changed much since the war.’’ Except for the turret defense system. I thought with a soft chuckle. At least patrons would be safe from raiders getting rowdy. ‘’You ever been to an arcade, Steelgraft?’’ She asked with genuine interest, either that or she was a better actress than I thought. She looked at me over her shoulder. I knew a bit about arcades, there was one somewhere in Necro-Net. An entire server was dedicated to recreation in all it’s forms. I hadn’t gotten to enjoy it much, having been segregated from the main system for so long. “Yeah. I’ve been to one. Once or twice.” At some point I had been to one, in my normal life, with my family. The moment I grabbed a concrete memory it slipped away, breaking apart. ‘’Good! We should try winning something. They have some good prizes.’’ I knew where this was going. ‘’I get first pick of the prize if we win anything.’’ Why am I not surprised? The mare was wearing a wide smile, tail swishing back and forth as she tapped her hooves to an imaginary beat. Everything stopped, the practice dancing to a beat, the sound of hooves clopping over concrete, and even the street stopped abruptly. This was what they meant by ‘pitfalls and dangers’--The street ended in a gaping ravine that dropped twenty feet into a pit of spiked rebar and jagged scrap. An old narrow power pole bridged the gap. the pole was splintered and sagging at the middle. Yeah. No. No. Nope. No...No no no no no. ‘’How about we go around this dangerous pit of pincushions?’’ I suggested, looking for another way across the gap. The pit was too far to jump and it was the width of the entire street and sidewalk, butting up against the edge of the storefronts and their foundations. “I’ve crossed this thing plenty of times.” Gangrene tried to reassure me, “All it takes is just one slip or a single raider popping you to drop you and it’s curtains. Gotta be careful is all.” I preferred drapes. That and not dying because I went across a spiky death trap and got curtained for it. ”You have so experience with this pit?’’ I coaxed. “It’s a popular ambush spot.” Gangrene revealed with a mildly manic grin, “We should make sure to cross quickly or find another way around. Just be quick or be dead.” I’d rather not cross over a giant pit of spikes while someone could have crosshairs on me. I was going to go around through one of the stores. Gangrene seemed comfortable with gambling a quick run. ‘’I’ll meet you on the other side, just don’t keep a lady waiting.’’ She chided as she began her quick run to the other side. She made it halfway across before an ominous soft ‘beep’ ‘beep’ ‘beep beep beep’! sounded from the center of the plank. Gangrene cursed and sped up to a gallop as the center of the power pole splintered completely in an explosion of wood and fire. Gangrene barely managed to make it to the other side, dangling off the edge with her forehooves. “Bucking fuck rut! Stupid fucking trap!” Gangrene colored the air with flavorful dialog. She pulled herself up on the other side, tearing her rifle from it’s mount and cocking the lever. ‘’You alright?’’ I called out to her from my side. ‘’I’ll be better once you get your ass over here! The fucking dickmoles can’t be far!’’ She snarled, scanning the storefronts for any movement, rifle trailing through the air. I would have to go through the stores and get around the gap to meet up with her. I opened one of the doors to the nearest shop, a small cafe, and heard a soft ‘click’. A small bouquet  of metal apples fell from next to the door frame and struck the floor. I slammed the door shut and braced myself against it. ‘THOOM!’ The door shuddered, fracturing into fat chunks of rotten wood, leaving me to only hold the handle. ‘’Goddess bucking damn, traps are everywhere!’’ I wasn't seriously injured, I couldn't feel a thing. Of course the ringing in my ears only muffled the whooping cries of what I assumed were the raiders that had set up this ambush. I could already hear Gangrene cursing and opening fire on them. There was no time to spare, as usual it was charge without thinking. Into the cafe and over the counter. The dividing wall between this shop and the next had been broken down allowing me to enter the next store. There were newspapers unfolded and laid everywhere, likely they were there in case someone came by and disturbed them. More traps. This store had been a small book store. What better way to clear the floor than one of the bookcases? I pushed the one closest to me over, down into the center of the shop. A chorus of beeps blared before the bookcase exploded into splinters. A soft snowfall of fluttering paper scraps danced around the air in the aftermath of my slick ‘trap disarming’ skills. I had attracted attention for my efforts, a raider filled the doorway on the opposite wall. A degenerate piece of work wearing a burlap bag over his face, his eyes peering at me through holes cut in the bag, he was wielding not one, but two Bloomberg assault rifles, one on each side. Oh well blow me with a 34-pounder, how about we just give him a chain gun and call it a day? Both barrels ripped the air as he trained his sights on me. I began to move, juking to the right and galloping towards him, which he didn’t expect. I was struck several times, bullets glancing off the armor in my coat or lodging into the metal plates. I was almost on him! He’d already began to back up into the next shop, his accuracy suffering. ‘CLUNK!’ I whipped forward and kissed the floor. Black and scarlet blossomed out of my nose as it smashed into the floor. I grunted, looking back to see one of my gauntlets had triggered a massive and unkind looking bear trap with sharpened, beveled teeth. Had the teeth bit in any higher, where my flesh was, I would have more than just a broken nose to deal with. ‘’Looks like we have a clever one!’’ Snorted the stallion from the doorway. He made his way to me and brought his hoof down on my head, grinding it into the floor. “Stupid little shitfuck!” Did they just string random curses together to make new unimaginative curses? The only thing I disliked more than  dying was being killed by asinine ponies. He should have just shot me in the head, but no, he had to go with posturing. I reached up with my other foreleg and gripped him by the front of the burlap sack, pulling hard and tossing him off to the side like a sack of potatoes. He landed among a set of undetonated mines and died after their short lived song lead to turning him into a splatter of meaty, twitching chunks. A jolt of pleasure filled me and everything was crisp with clarity. The flow of sick, bubbling muck from my nostrils ebbed and I was able to push myself up and free myself from the bear trap. I tore the chain linked to the trap up from the floor and reset the trap, entering the next store with murderous intent. The act of premeditated murder did not feel completely alien, I had killed before. It was for survival. I don’t particularly enjoy wholesale slaughter. The raiders in this store had not expected me to be here, that anyone could get past their traps and their stupid sack wearing friend. They were all taking shots at Gangrene from behind their cover in front of the large open window. Several of them had jumped out to attack Gangrene earlier and now their bodies littered the street. The yellow mare was hunkered behind a broken sky chariot outside. ‘’Hey Burlap,’’ One of the raiders grunted without bothering to look back at me, ‘’How was that other guy? I heard a lotta booms.’’ Only now did he begin to turn to face me, his eyes widening as he took in my fearsome visage. I briefly imagined what thoughts must be going through his head at this moment. The dirty raider’s expression evoked a feeling of fear and helplessness. Surprise and remorse briefly flickered into his eyes before the bear trap I hurled clamped down over his face and crushed his skull, his eyes lolling out of their sockets as he slumped over with a wet, sick gurgle of sick. ‘’I gave your friend some unconventional beauty treatments.’’ I slyly spoke, letting the bear trap’s chain drop to the floor. ‘’And now it’s your turn.’’ Stop it. I ignored that little voice. The remaining raiders put their attention on me. One that turned and raised his weapon to fire had his head split open at the back by a shot from Gangrene’s rifle. The other, a younger slate grey earth pony, rushed me with a sledge hammer. This guy was as stupid as they came. Rushing someone that had a brutal flair for punching things wasn’t the best thing to do. He’d have better luck keeping his distance and trying to hit me in the head with a ranged weapon. The sledge hammer came down and I stepped back quickly, letting the heavy head of the weapon sink into the floor. ‘’Jheerst Rrrrrie!--ghek!’’ His words cut off, my knuckles left a bruise where I struck him in the throat, a light quick jab to disorient and cripple him. The sledge hammer’s handle dropped from his mouth and he collapsed into a heap, wheezing uncontrollably. He began to cry, choking on every struggling gasp of air. That’s enough! I froze, unable to act, to finish him off. I no longer saw a raider or bandit, but a helpless unarmed pony choking on his own spit, no longer able to harm me or my companion. He wasn’t a threat, disarmed and unable to fight back. With no threat there was no reason to keep fighting, I went to the morbid task of retrieving the bear trap from the dead raider’s face and wiped it off on my sleeve. I was rather fond of it already, as far as weapons went. ‘’Fucking brimstone and balefire, Steelgraft.’’ My companion sputtered, looking around at the carnage that lay in the wake of my ‘shopping trip’. The mare had killed a few herself, making six in total for this ambush party. ‘’Remind me to never piss you off. For a stallion so green behind the ears you smoked them pretty fast.’’ The entire conflict had only been a few minutes but living through it, it was the longest few minutes of my life up until that point. ‘’I just did what came naturally.’’ I parroted what Pane had said to me in the auditorium. There was truth to those words, this was just what came naturally. I was getting better at it too. Better at taking lives and protecting others. You can’t complain when you have someone relying on you for protection. Gangrene went about her usual job of corpse robbing, I didn’t help. Something about taking things off the dead felt too much like desecration. I really didn’t like how she suggested throwing their naked bodies into the pit for an ‘improper burial’. It was better than leaving them to rot, considering there was no place to bury them and no time to do so. I had come to realize the tool shop’s name was ‘The Shed’ from the sign that hung crooked over it’s ripped awning. Why was the name so amusing? This was the oddest line-up of shops ever. Cafe, then a bookstore, then a home repair and tool shop. At least it wasn’t a store that only sold sofas and quills. “Steelgraft, you missed one.” Gangrene shouted from inside the tool shop. “Missed one?” I asked, then it dawned on me. She was referring to the raider I had incapacitated. ‘’He’s harmless--’’ ‘BLAM’ ‘’No, Steelgraft,’’ She morbidly corrected me, ‘’Now he’s harmless.’’ I stormed into the store, a chain of knots forming in my gut, ‘’What did you just do?!’’ I knew what she had done, she killed that pony, the one that was helpless after I’d socked him in the throat. She shot him in the head while he was squirming and gasping for air. “Why did you do that? He was helpless!” “Now he’s a helpless corpse.” Gangrene spat viciously, “What’s your problem? You killed two of those raiders in the most brutal ways I’ve ever seen and you just decided to go easy on this guy? I don’t like to sleep with one eye open if he decided to go get some more buddies and hunt us the fuck down!” She holstered her rifle on her back after cocking the lever and went back to collecting their belongings. That was murder, it wasn’t killing for survival, it was murder! Or was it still survival? Justified by the chance that he might come back and kill us while we were unprepared?  This was uncharted skies for me, Gangrene knew more about how the world worked now, how Equestria operated. I did not like it. “It shouldn’t be like this.” I muttered. You shouldn’t find joy in this and do it needlessly. “News flash, it is. Life ain't all sunshine and rainbows. Ponies gonna die, monsters gotta eat, and I want to live a while longer.” Gangrene collected the rifles off the raiders, broken and worn down from abusive use. They’d be worth some caps, just for their parts. The two Bloomberg assault rifles in the other room had suffered damage from the detonation of the mines, but with the parts between them we could salvage a working rifle. The remaining mines were levitated from their hiding places and disarmed at a distance by the yellow mare, she added those to her saddle bags. I had nothing else to say to Gangrene right now, I wasn’t exactly happy. Normally I didn’t feel anything at all, but in the wake of the battle a sense of serenity filled my senses. The euphoria slowly tapered off replaced by the cold, oppressive numbness that permeated every limb until no sensation remained. You shouldn’t enjoy this. I palmed my messy red mane and slicked it back, then shook it out. Anything, anything to keep my hooves occupied so I couldn't wrap my cold metal fingers around my only friend’s throat! “All this stuff for the price of a few bullets.” Gangrene sauntered out from the shop. How about some of my respect for you, you crazy bitch? How much is that worth to you? Let it go. It isn’t worth it. My mind was arguing with me again, pushing me away from thoughts of violence. “What all did they have, or do you have ‘dibs’ on everything?” I grumbled, hoping she could detect the anger in my voice. “Some of this is for you. And get over it already, you’re being a hypocrite!” She bayed roughly, “They had some good shit. We’ll need it.” The mare brushed passed and flicked her tail, snorting. “Us or them. Them or everyone back in Greenvale relying on you! I’d rather keep on trekkin’.” She was right but that didn’t mean I had to like it or believe it. Deny it for now. You know you liked it. Fighting is fun, isn’t it? That euphoria, that drug. That sensation... I shook my head slowly, clearing it of the whispers and cobweb thoughts. “So you’re saying that’s for survival. In case he did do something...” ‘’Does it look like I enjoy killin’ pones?’’ She asked. The mare wasn’t smiling. She looked just as unhappy as me. ‘’You like taking their stuff.’’ I replied hoarsely. ‘’It’s a side effect of self defense. Some lives end so others can keep living free an’ safe. That’s why I’m a bandit. I got other scrubs other than you needin’ me.” She rolled her eyes, giving a soft huff. “Come here, I need you to carry shit, Mr. Muscles.” I was saddled with the heavier equipment, namely the two broken assault rifles and their provisions; a few days of water and some roasted meat that had the flakey consistency of crab or shellfish. How I knew that consistency was a mystery. I was just going to stick to munching on my beef jerky if I ever finally got hungry. Meat does sound tasty. Ponies are herbivores. Beef jerky is an exception, then.  There was another mystery, I didn’t know much about the Vipers. I only know they robbed travelers, or in Gangrene’s case, raiders for their supplies. She wasn’t doing it for her own personal gain, at least not completely. She was very hard to read. If she stuck around long I’d likely find out about them or maybe I’d ask around, see what word around town was concerning them. The rest of the trip to the Highscore Arcade was eventful. The streets were littered with the usual junk and wagons, long since looted shops staring at the street, empty and vacant. The one noteworthy thing that happened was I had disturbed an incredibly territorial radscorpion nest and we were chased for half a block by an enormous angry mother with infant scorpions on it’s back. Gangrene thought it was hilarious that I ran so quickly and screamed ‘like a little filly’. Just don’t think about it! What else had been jumbo-sized thanks to a hundred years of mutation? Don’t ask that! We’ll find out soon enough. “What’s the matter Steelgraft, not into moms? I think she liked you!” Gangrene snorted out through held back laughter. I was not amused. “I wish you coulda seen your face! Big Helga really put the scare into you!” “I was too busy running away from a GIANT SCORPION to care about it’s gender! The fat little babies were cute in their own...way.” Like tiny little sausages in carapace lining. And then they’d grow up and get big and--Stop thinking about it! “That thing has a name?” The yellow mare nodded, sliding up next to me, “And a fat ass bounty if you catch it.” Catch it...? “You know, alive? There’s a whole ranch that raises them for food. They want Big Helga.” Catch it alive. ALIVE! That was one bounty I was never going to accept. “Pinchy pinchy stiiiiiing~” Gangrene cooed, nuzzling up to my side and fluttering her eyelashes, “Oh, look! A tiny lil zombie pony! I’m just gonna eatchu up~” “Cut it out...” I begged, I didn’t like being taunted because I ran away from a scorpion the size of a small house. “Stop it.” ‘’Pinch pinch your lil cheeks~’’ She rubbed a hoof into my cheek, pushing my head to the side. ‘’You ran too!’’ I exclaimed, pulling away to trot out of range. ‘’I didn’t cry and scream like a filly gettin’ her cherry popped!’’ She called after me, breaking into a fit of laughter. That was over and done with, the ambush and...thing I didn’t want to think about were far behind us. We’d made it to the corner of 5th Avenue and Trotsworthy Street, a street that stood out with flashing lights, most of which were malfunctioning, a large neon sign that flickered and sparked saying ‘H-gh-cor- Arc-de’. All this surrounded a massive reinforced storefront with heavy double doors with two massive turrets that scanned the area passively, a single unlucky radroach was reduced to a crater by a quick ‘Bzat’ on the turret on the left. The one on the right was trained on us now. “That fortress is the arcade?” It looked more like a military complex now. “What are the prizes, surplus military weapons?” I joked, chuckling. ‘’Yup! Wait until you see the inside, it’s great!’’ She exclaimed, trotting up to the door. The door opened automatically and she disappeared inside. I soon followed, joining Gangrene. I had been joking about the surplus weapons part! Joking! A small foyer between the arcade’s flashing lights and the outside greeted us. Cubby holes lined the walls on both side, each with a key sticking out of the lock. Some keys were missing, in use by other patrons. They were little lockers. A small poster on a nearby wall stated in bold, sweeping letters: ‘No weapons in the Arcade. No bad attitude in the arcade. No whining. Make use of communal cubby lockers. Have fun.’ Gangrene was already stripping out of her armor and stowing it away, adding her weapons to the same locker. She stored her saddlebag in another cubby and took both keys after locking them. Gangrene kept a neck pouch on filled with caps, giving them a soft jingle. I followed her lead, all weapons and armor was stowed, saddlebags were shoved into another cubby. They barely fit into the locker. I took my key to my locker and followed Gangrene into the business side of the arcade. She hadn’t been kidding, the inside was the best part. It was like going back in time! The walls had colorful paint to elicit cheerful emotions, red walls with blue ceiling tiles and a chessboard floor tiling, characters from once popular games adorned the walls and ceiling. None I recognized of course. Arcade cabinets stretched from one side of the arcade from the other. Racing games, shooters, pinball machines, it even had a strength challenge bell and anvil! Many of the cabinets whirred and beeped with life, either being attended by a foal or covered with an ‘out of order’ sign. A lot of them were out of order, but the ones that were running were being used. Laughter, when was the last time I heard real laughter? ‘’Oh no! This is terrible!’’ Gangrene cried. What? Something bad? Here?! Could anything good last? I looked at her, her face full of shock and sudden disbelief. The mare dashed along an aisle and knocked over no less than two older ponies and a griffin before she came to a skidding stop in front of a particular arcade game. Dance Dance Pony: V-Beat Syndrome. ‘’No!’’ She cried out, ‘’Record Wrecker beat my score on ‘Through Balefire and Tartarus’! On super duper uber difficulty?!’’ I had followed her, expecting a fight or a great atrocity only to find...this. This was a nice change of pace, but Gangrene’s sense of priorities was definitely lacking. Everyone needs their hobbies. I thought, laughing to myself, ‘’And here I thought you said this was horrible! It’s just a h-’’ She shot me a glare that would boil water then freeze it instantly, one that said ‘not another word’. She pulled out four caps from a small neck pouch and stepped onto the dance pad, paying her toll to play. She tapped the arrow controls on the floor to select her song and difficulty. The hardness of this song was rated at ‘5 Records’. ‘’Are ya ready for dis beat?!’’ The arcade game boomed cheerfully, the voice of a very excited mare that sounded happy to be spinning the song. The music began to play, swift beats and arrows began to fly across the screen. Gangrene began to move, tapping each button with the timing of the music. This wasn’t just a game, this was a performance. She had a certain flare, her grease heavy tail spiraling around and her hips shaking gracefully, bobbing up and down. Soon a crowd gathered around us, to watch the performing mare swing to the beat. A minute and a half into the five minute song and she was drenched in sweat, her mane dripping black and she shamelessly pushed her rear out towards her audience, “Yeah! Like what you see?” She huffed, “I’m the beat mastah!” “Bonus points! Double score! Shake that thing! Oooooh! D-d-double team! Grab a partner!” The machine announced, the score was climbing higher and higher with the speed increasing. Gangrene shouted for me to hop on and join her. I was unsure, I’d just ruin her score. “Uh, I’m no good...” I waved a foreleg at the air and scratched the back of my head, “I’d just suck.” “Outta the way, chump!” A small soft blue earth pony foal with messy dark hair stepped in and took my offered position and began to play with her. His legs were so short he could barely reach multiple buttons at once. Rude, stubby lil bastard... He wasn’t doing great, but he was helping her score. I suppose it didn’t matter, those were bonus points after all. The song entered the final minute, the beat picked up even faster. Gangrene’s  hooves were a blur, sweat flying down her body, her breath a swift pant, eyes narrowed in concentration. The older stallions and some mares about the crowd whistled, finding the sight quite appealing. “I’d love to tap that.” “Hot burning sun, look'at that sweet water!” “Dayum, she just winked at me!” A soft clamor of mutters and declarations of ‘love’ floated about, muffled by the beat of the music from the game’s massive subwoofers. Gangrene was all smiles, the foal was in a state of pure concentration, tongue extended and an intense look on his face. ‘Tap tap tap’ ‘Wub wub wub’--The mixture of the beats moved me to my core, a display of swishing tail and  beading sweat, sparkling like dew. She’s something, my mind echoed to itself, beautiful, strong, insane? With a soft cry, the little foal tripped, falling right under Gangrene’s hooves, tripping her up. She fell to the ground with a firm ‘thud’ with only fifteen seconds of the song left. The crowd collectively winced, drawing in sharp breath. The game began to blare out ‘boos’ as they missed the tail end of the song, the beat multiplier dropped and the music stopped. She didn’t beat Record Wrecker’s high score. The crowd dispersed, some laughed, others were just disappointed. A few mentioned that it was an amazing attempt. The foal sat up, his eyes welling with tears, he began to bawl. Gangrene pushed herself up and faced the sobbing foal, her eyes narrowed, she’d bitten her lip in the fall, a thin trickle of blood dripping down her chin. I was about to jump in, to save the foal from what I thought would be a verbal stream of vile curses, but was surprised by what happened next. Gangrene smiled and drew the foal into a hug, brushing over his forehead with a soft kiss, ‘’Oh sweety, shush~ It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re not hurt are you?’’ What magic was this? I couldn’t figure this mare out. She was bi-polar wasn’t she? Was she just insane? Static filled the corners of my vision, things began to flicker. The young blue stallion now had goggles around his neck and a unicorn’s horn, Gangrene slowly shifted to a deep purple, her mane becoming a dark blue, natural and lush. Her smile never faltered, but its depth grew. The foal whined as the unicorn mare before me licked a napkin, dabbing it over the boy’s face. He had fat smears of ice cream over his cheeks and lips. The sounds faded and returned, with new music and laughter. There were stalls everywhere, games, prizes, and even a big tent was set up. A large, impressive castle loomed nearby, built against a mountain, cascades of waterfalls falling to the ground below. Canterlot, I remembered, You brought them here. To celebrate. There was a festival.  My heart was beating in my chest, I was happy, even with the growing worries in the back of my mind. The smells of candy and baked apples filled the air, and the cool breeze felt amazing against my pelt. ‘’Mooooom!’’ The young pony whined, squirming and turning his head away, ‘’This is embarrassing! Cut it out!’’ He looked to me for help, ‘’I’m not so little anymore!’’ “Do you really need to baby him so much?” I came to the foal’s rescue, wearing a very genuine smile. I was levitating a set of ice cream cones in my telekinetic field, an easy exercise for me. “Besides, his face will just get messy when he eats more.” I shoved my face into one of the ice cream cones, making a mess of my snout on purpose. Cold, sweet, and creamy. The sweet vanilla danced on my tongue. The mare gave me a look of annoyance and disapproval, “Oh you! Now I have to clean you up too!” My smile couldn’t get wider, “So get over here.” Was this my family? My wife. My child. My everything. I drew the lovely mare in for a kiss, she did not resist. Warm, sweet, and soft. Sensations alien to me were now familiarized. I knew it was a relapse, that this was just a memory. But this was a happy memory, one that I enjoyed and cherished. She giggled, squealed, and eventually pulled away. ‘’Gah, you cad! You almost got ice cream all over my gown!’’ She was so beautiful! How could a rough edged stallion like me land this mare? “Mmm...” She licked her lips, “Vanilla? Can I have a taste?~” “Sure!” I laughed, offering her a cone. She shook her head and  drew her tongue across my cheek gently, “It tastes better like this~” “Ew! Mom, dad! No mushy stuff!” The foal complained, wearing a pouting little frown, “It’s gross!” “Ah, it’s gross is it? I thought you weren’t so little. Where do you think you came from mister?” I teased, sticking out my tongue. My son was amused, laughing softly. “Momma said the flutterpony brought me!” He squeaked. I rolled my eyes. “Mhmm,” my wife agreed, “And you were the cutest little foal!” The boy snorted softly, “I’m not cute! I’m handsome!” His protest was as adorable as he was. “Alright my handsome young colt, how about you and I go play a game together?” I offered. Even though I was just along for the ride I felt everything, every emotion, every sense of pride and love. I wanted to play just as much as the foal did. I wanted to feel more happiness and share this time with them. The foal was so excited, nodding and scampering off to the first booth that caught his eye. It was a milk bottle and balls game, one that involved knocking over a set of weighted milk bottles with light red balls. It was an easily rigged game, and I somehow knew that. Or whoever I had been had known that. My son was pointing at a large plush he wanted, a large pink unicorn body pillow. I snorted softly, glancing to the foal that bounced up and down. ‘’I want that! I want that!’’ He squeaked. ‘’Are you sure? That’s pink. Little filly pink fru fru pink.’’ Maybe I had laid it on thick, the pony I was now growled, don’t you dare say no! Give him what he wants! I just wanted to make him happy and keep him that way. ‘’Honey, just let him.’’ The mare’s voice traveled to my ears, the lovely purple mare had not been far behind. ‘’It’s not going to hurt anything.’’ I dug out the bits and slammed them on the counter, ‘’Alright, don’t have to tell me twice.’’ I was outvoted two to three! Families were a democracy after all. The pale red unicorn mare behind the counter took my bits and offered the colt a set of three balls to play. ‘’Knock ‘em all down to win your prize.’’ She announced, stepping out of the way. My son grunted, the magic of his horn flickering until it held stable. He picked up the first ball and dropped it down onto the counter. “That counts!” The mare announced, removing that same ball, “Two more shots kiddo!” Why that little rat-tossing pony-feather sucking daughter of a whorse! That grinds my gears. I could feel my teeth gritting. The little foal frowned and tried again, concentrating fiercely and lifting the next ball. He hurled that one backwards and struck a display behind him. I winced when I heard a crash. That sounded expensive! “I...I don’t think I can do it.” Was he about to cry? The foal looked heartbroken, like he’d failed at something important. This was just a game! ‘’Yes you can, slugger.’’ I reassured him, ‘’And if you can’t do it now, we can always try again, okay? It’s not always about winning.’’ ‘’But I want the fluffy unicorn!’’ He squeaked out. I wanted him to have the unicorn plushie, I really did. He had to earn it for himself though. ‘’If you want it, then earn it. Don’t you remember the basics of Telekinesis?’’ The colt nodded slowly. ‘’Focus, visualize, and?’’ “Act!” He completed my sentence with gusto and pulled his goggles up to cover his eyes. He was serious now. He lifted the ball, grit his teeth, glared at his target and threw the ball. The milk bottle on top was struck and it fell over with a thud. I cheered, so did my boy. My wife laughed at how silly we must have looked. ‘’Sorry, you only knocked over one. There’s no prize for only one.’’ The mare deadpanned. ‘’Nice try, though.’’ What? ‘’But he...’’ One of my eyes twitched. My wife looked rather displeased but accepting of that situation. My son looked crestfallen. He pulled his goggles down around his neck, his lower lip began to tremble. That isn’t fair. Do something about it! I mentally urged him, the stallion I was. He had to do something. “Let me give this a shot...” I hissed darkly, a deep and cruel smile spread my lips. “I...I don’t think you should do this, honey, just let it go!” My wife was worried? Oh, great. What was I about to do? Now I was worried. I slammed the bits down on the counter and she gave me three red balls. I passed the ice cream, which had begun to melt, to my wife and the three balls took their place in my telekinetic grasp. The balls spun into fast revolutions, a soft sizzle and crackle of magical energy echoed from each one. ‘’You might want to duck, miss.’’   After I had all but atomized half the stall, the mare offered up the pink plush in exchange for our promise to never play a game at this festival ever again. I thought that was a solid victory. My son was overjoyed, hugging his prize and squealing with glee. ‘’It’s so fluffy!’’ The lovely purple unicorn mare was giving me a very deeply disapproving look, her lips in a deep frown, “Did you really have to do that?” “Totally.” I answered. “What am I going to do with you?” She asked, the concern growing across her face. She waved her hoof at me, “Hey, hello. Steelgraft?” No! No, don’t let this memory be over! I don’t want to go back yet! I want to stay here with my family! My happy memory faded away into a blur of sound and color. My everything, my whole world, gone again. ‘’Does he always do this?’’ Whispered a voice. ‘’Yeah, I think he’s fuckin’ busted.’’ snorted Gangrene. Great, I was back in reality. Gangrene’s face was uncomfortably close and she was slapping me in the face with her hoof lightly. She looked livid. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you fuck off in la-la land.” The mare accused me. She leaned back and sighed. “Got stuff to do, Dead-Head.” I was back in the brightly lit and cheerful sounding arcade, the flashing lights and beeps from operational machines melded into the marching band to my creeping insanity. A throng of foals surrounded me, looking at me with keen interest. Some were staring deep into the glowing face on the back of my gauntlets and a small griffin fledgling had perched on my back at some point during my relapse. ‘’Where do you put the caps?’’ The young griffin fledgling chirped, resting her talons on my ears and gripping them. ‘’I’m not a ride.’’ I grumbled, regaining composure as my mind caught up with everything going on. My companion was joking with the young whelps that gathered around me with interest. Just how long had I been out? A few minutes, maybe ten at the most? ‘’Hey, could you get off ‘im? I don’t think you want to put caps in him. He might not like that.’’ Gangrene found great mirth in my predicament. She smirked, nickering softly, ‘’Besides, his cap slot’s probably in his butt.’’ No I did not have a cap slot in my ass. A collective ‘ew’ echoed from the children and I was dismounted by the fledgling. Finally, a bit of space, for as much as I liked kids, being swarmed was overwhelming. Extracting myself, I left the horde, only to be followed by a few that were still interested in me. They were asking questions, ones that annoyed me to no end. ‘’Come on SteelGraft, we need to talk to Record Wrecker. Enough wasting time.’’ She heckled me. She was the one that wanted to waste time playing an arcade game! She paid the children no mind, trotting off ahead towards the massive prize booth. ‘’Why’re you walkin’ away?’’ One asked of my tagalongs asked. ‘’Because Gangrene and I have to talk to Record Wrecker.’’ I answered. ‘’Why?’’ ‘’Because I have business to attend to.’’ I answered again, my eye twitching already. Shouldn’t kids be afraid of me? All the adults were nervously avoiding my gaze or shuffling out of the way yet the kids were enamored by my presence. ‘’Are you a super hero?’’ Asked a small teal unicorn foal, one with a constantly dripping nose. She inhaled sharply through her nose and swallowed, panting out through her mouth. Isn’t that adorable? I shuddered. ‘’Uh, no. I’m ju--Actually, you know what. Yes. Yes I am. I’m a superhero. On super hero business.’’ I lied, much to the adoration of several of the foals. A few ‘ahs’ and silent, wide eyed stares began to make me feel uncomfortable. ‘’Your costume’s really stupid.’’ Spoke one foal in particular, the same eggshell blue colt that had been playing Dance Dance Pony with gangrene. His slicked back red and black mohawk screamed the influence of Gangrene’s style, and his narrowed grey eyes were now free of tears. ‘’What’s your superpower, being beat up and needin’ stitches? What a fucking joke, you ass weasel. You’re just Gangrene’s lackey.’’ He was mouthy for a little brat that had just been crying. He seemed to be a ringleader among these little urchins. The others joined in, no longer were they impressed, but now mocking. All that was bearable, the curiosity of how this brat knew Gangrene was not. ‘’I dunno, is your super power crying like a whiny filly?’’ I had previously thought it just random that the foal had joined her in the game. “And how do you know Gangrene?” The foal stomped his hooves, growling. “My super power’ll be kickin your faggy ass, staple dick!” The foal roared, wearing a cocky smile. I was tempted to compare the grin on his face with the one on my gauntlets with added velocity. You’d never hit a child. “You got a mouth on you, brat. Your mom must be proud.” I rumbled darkly. This foal was trying my patience and I had no time for it. “The fuck you know about my mom?! You wanna fight, you stripe dicked ninnyfart?” The foal shouted to me, narrowing his eyes. The following children began to chant ‘fight’ over and over again, which was a bad idea. I’d mutilate the kid If I was to fight him! Didn’t he know not to pick fights with things bigger than him? Like gigantic radscorpions? Augh, don’t think about that!  I pulled ahead of the children, trying to lose them around a congested corner and going down an adjacent aisle. ‘’Yeah, you better run you coward! Run away!’’ The small eggshell blue foal was snorting and stamping triumphantly. ‘’I remember when kids respected their elders,’’ I muttered to myself dryly. I don’t think I was ever that bad as a foal. Or maybe I was. Ah yes, the old days, where grass was green and the mares were pretty. I guess those times may as well be prehistoric. All the games in this aisle were shooting and war games. Target Terror, Rapid Recoil, and Airship Armada were among the most notable titles. They displayed animations of all their gameplay, the high scores that appeared weren’t held by Record Wrecker, but by a name unfamiliar, ‘Keena Keenshot’. Almost every working arcade game had a record of Record Wrecker at the top, this was the first time I’d seen consistent titles with high scores held by someone else. ‘’Steelgraft, hurry that ass up and stop playin’ with the kids, will you?!’’ Gangrene cupped her muzzle and shouted at me from across the arcade. I could barely hear her over all the boops and beeps and bouncing electronic 8-bit music. Eventually I did find my way to the prize and concession counter. A large glass display counter held prizes, all of which were toys, refurbished and repainted to near pristine condition. The mare behind the counter wore thick aviator goggles and a wide brimmed straw hat, an orange pegasus mare with a single crippled wing held at her side with bandages in a sling. Her short and spiky mane was a deep red. On the wall behind her, mounted on a pegboard was the ‘Big Boy Toys’, a range of weapons from rifles to rocket launchers, ammo, large chainsaw knives and other aggressive looking weaponry and an assortment of goods including chemicals, old music records, and even a gramophone. All prizes had ticket prices written down next to them. The most expensive item was a mint condition Pinkie Pie plush for 15,000 tickets. It was in a glass container on display, with it was a small figurine of the same mare on a tiny pedestal. A figurine which had no marked price. ‘’About time you made it, Deady. I was starting to worry you’d get your plot kicked by Rebel Riot.’’ She chuckled, shaking her head slowly. She wiped the residual sweat off her face with an old towel offered by the mare from behind the counter. ‘’Damn. I’m thirsty after that workout.’’ She tossed the towel back and pulled out a small bottle of slightly muddy water, drinking in heavy gulps. ‘’It was a neat attempt there, Gang Gal. Better luck next time to reclaim your record. Least your name’ll still be on the ‘Wall of Winners’ “ The orange pegasus quipped, running the sweat soaked rag over the counter. That wasn’t sanitary! The wall she pointed at nearby was behind the counter, it had names on plaques all over it, names emblazoned upon them. Those were from before the war, for right below them was a bunch of beat up hubcaps for sky wagon wheels with painted names on their polished yet still rusty surfaces. ‘’That little brat’s harmless.’’ I stated duly, pointing out the obvious. ‘’But your name is on the wall? Right up there with everyone else.’’ ‘’Don’t let him hear you calling him harmless, he’ll get cranky,’’ Gangrene knickered, capping her bottle and stowing it back into her small neck pouch. ‘’And yeah it’s up there, but I like havin’ my name in the machine. ‘Sides, it feels good to tap the beat and give them stallions some heat.’’ She gave me a subtle  smoldering look. ‘’Did you enjoy feelin’ the beat?’’ ‘’My feelings on your performance are dull.’’ I groused. ‘’Necro feelin’ yeah.’’ She snickered. “Was that entire thing a setup for a lame necrophilia joke?” My jimmies were quite rustled. ‘’You give me too much credit, but it’s fuckin funny!’’ Gangrene snorted out and burst into laughter at my expense. Even the mare behind the counter laughed at that lame, horrible, racist joke. Yes, racist! Ghouls are a race. Or was it sub-race? ‘’Lets get back to business.’’ ‘’Ah, sure, what did you need, Gang-Gal?’’ Wrecker spoke with a small, warm smile. ‘’Word ‘round town is you know where that fat fuck Muffincake is.’’ Gangrene stated, looking over her friend appraisingly, ‘’How th’ fuck you hurt your wing?’’   ‘’I uh, I don’t know where he is,’’ Record admitted while she continued to wipe the counter with the rag in rapid circles. She was smearing streaks of sweat over the counter, biting her lower lip. She ignored the second of Gangrene’s questions.   “We were told you knew something.” I added. If this was a dead end lead I was going to play hoofball with PNK-3 next time I saw her. Maybe give Mechanic a verbal thrashing for wasting my time. That won’t do you any good. Damnit voice in my head, stop being so logical. I want to be mad. An adult pony approached the stand and ordered a sparkle Cola, setting caps for it on the counter. Record Wrecker turned around, fiddling with one of the vending machines she kept behind the counter, slamming it to get a Sparkle cola and setting it on the counter while taking the caps. ‘’A few Muffin Cake Raiders came by this last sunday.’’ She began, ‘’I told em they weren’t welcome, they left. Waited outside my turret’s range. A group of kids left the arcade and got grabbed.’’ She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘’Me and Keena went out and tried to stop it, but Keena got her gun broke. They stomped my wing.’’ She cast a sad glance at her bound wing and tried to adjust it, wincing at the discomfort as the brittle bones popped. While this infuriated me and drove me to new heights of anger it didn’t help with finding Muffincake. I wanted to find him even more and rescue those kids but I’d never find them in the Industrial Park without any information. Holding back my anger I asked another question, ‘’Is there anything you remember? Anything that will help me find them?’’ ‘’I...I don’t know,’’ The mare stuttered, her ears folded back, ‘’All they told me was that they were going to boil the kids alive in a giant metal bucket and eat them.’’ The mare was bothered deeply, her voice wavering, ‘’These kids come here to forget how bad the wastes are. They should be safe here.’’ She looked me over and she ducked behind the counter, ‘’Just please leave me alone. I don’t know anything else.’’ ‘’They threatened yah and beat you?’’ Gangrene was angry, but she didn’t raise her voice, ‘’Wrecker, let me fix up that wing.’’ ‘’I don’t want to be involved! Go bother Keena. S-she wants to go after them.’’ The mare was near crying. She was afraid. I could understand, if we failed to kill the warlord and died, then the warlord would send trouble. The arcade was no match for the warlord with resources, a few rockets or explosives would take out her turrets, they’d just break in. If she helped us she’d make herself a target. Everyone here would be in danger. My understanding didn’t stop me from grinding my teeth in agitation. ‘’Where’s Keena?’’ Gangrene asked. ‘’We need all the help we can get to save those kids.’’ Her determination was only matched with the anger that burned in her eyes, brows knitted together in a stern scowl. After a moment to compose herself the mare straightened up behind the counter and wiped her face with that unpleasantly sweaty and dirty rag. She coughed, lifting her goggled off her eyes and wiping them clean. The tears that had filled the lenses fell down her cheeks and splashed over the countertop. ‘’Keena she t-took losin’ the kids super hard.’’ She was calming, soon her demeanor was less shaken. ‘’She’s over trying to earn tickets to get a new gun.’’ She unfurled her unbound wing and pointed at the wall of prizes. “She was thinking about g-going after Muffincake herself.” “Wait, you own the arcade, why don’t you just give her one?” What a cheapskate, my upper lip curled back and I exhaled what must have been foul breath, judging by how Wrecker’s nose wrinkled. “You don’t enjoy being helpful, do you?’’ Wrecker bristled, “Oh, you mean give one of my most frequent customers a weapon so she can go off and get herself kill’t?’’ She wrung out the dirty towel into a bucket behind the counter and slapped it down with a snort, “It’s a shame that happened, mister. Bad things happen. Lettin’ a friend go off and suicide pointlessly ain’t helpful. Now go away, your breath reeks and you’re rude!’’ I recoiled as she grabbed the towel off the counter and whip snapped it at the air, a sharp crack going off next to my ear that caused a deafening ring. “Alright! I’m going, I’m going!” We had outstayed our welcome with the owner, it was best if we moved on. And by ‘we’ I meant me, since I was an insufferable jerk. “Way to go Steelgraft, you went and pissed her off.’’ Gangrene chided me, following me as I left the concession and prize counter. “That only leaves finding Keena and seeing what she knows.” There were no other options, we had to find her and ask for her help. If she wanted to go after Muffincake that meant we had an ally. We were making progress towards the ‘games of skill’ section. Machines here spat out tickets for rewards, put in a cap or two and play a game for tickets, turn those in for prizes. Straightforward and fun. If scavenging from the wastelands was a fun game I might enjoy doing it more. ‘’Do you know who Keena is?’’ Or perhaps vice versa, according to that brat everyone knew of Gangrene, the Viper leader. ‘’Seen her around. She’s hard to miss.’’ The mare replied, scanning the aisle and games for Keena. ‘’Sticks out like a sore hoof, she does.’’ ‘’Why is that?’’ I asked, curiosity peaking. “Oh, you’ll see.” She assured me, raising a hoof and point towards a few skee ball machines. I could make out a griffin at one of them with downy white plumage and a messy crest of headfeathers. “There she is!” Gangrene took off, circumventing the few ponies in her way. I followed, every step bringing me closer to them. Soon, all things blocking my view of the griffin playing skee ball was behind me. I soon realized why Keena was said to stick out, she was a griffin with the back half of a pony! A painted mare’s back half had been attached to a griffin’s upper half, warm tones of earth mixed with splotches of creamy white and a tail of dark, shimmering sable braided short. Her beak was shorter than typical griffin beaks, curving downwards with a soft blue cere on her beak between her sharp amber eyes.         She rolled a ball up the track, missing all the hoppers for the highest points, cursing under her breath. Her score was low and awarded only a few tickets, “Dangit! That was the last of my caps.” She rasped, clicking her beak in agitation. She had yet to notice Gangrene or I and she counted her tickets, pulling the streamer of tickets from the floor.         ‘’This isn’t enough to get that assault rifle.’’ She sighed softly, hanging her head. She seemed so defeated, sitting sullen. ‘’Keena Keenshot,’’ Gangrene stated her name to get her attention, ‘’I normally don’t see you on this side of the arcade. Shouldn’t you be breakin’ records at the shooting gallery?’’ Gangrene took a seat on the lip of the skee ball machine’s edge. “Uh, yeah. Pretty bad few days. Do I know you?” The young griff--erm...whatever she was chirped questioningly, tilting her head to the side. The little brat Rebel Riot had been wrong, not everyone knew of Gangrene after all. “Yeah, ‘course you do. I’m Gangrene. You don’t recognize me when my hair’s not got an erection?” Gangrene then slicked up her limp mane, trying to get the heavy with sweat flophawk to stand on end. It slowly fell back down after maintaining it’s form for a paltry three seconds. “Oh,” Keena muttered, then did a swift double take of the yellow unicorn between her and me, “Gangrene, you mean Viper leader, top dog of the Rec Center Gangrene?” I spoke too soon, apparently the yellow mare was known around this area far better than in Greenvale or I had just failed to realize just how popular my companion was. Gangrene had mentioned a Recreation Center once before, over a week ago. You know, when she was going into shock from rocket propelled grenade and building debris poisoning. My short term memory was amazing for an amnesiatic dead guy. Stop thinking about it, more important things to do! ‘’The one and only. Now word is somethin’ big happened. And you know me Keena, I don’t take kindly to raider pukes fuckin’ with the itty bitties.’’ said the yellow mare with a grim smile, “I trash em.” “Is that why you’re here Gangrene? You and the Vipers’ll be helping me get the kids?” Her eyes were wide, her voice that had sounded so defeated before now held a kernel of hope. “Uh, not exactly, no. We’re actually going to be killin’ the fat slug of a warlord. Treatin’ a symptom of a disease ain’t enough.” Gangrene let Keena down gently, that sly smirk only getting broader, “You in?” “I, uhm, maybe. Who’s all coming along?” Keena asked, nervously clicking her beak, “You know I won’t be much good without a gun. Mine broke and I’m outta caps.” “Well, right now it’s juss me ahn my ghoul man-servant, Steelgraft here,” Gangrene introduced me, tugging on my explosive collar with her telekinetic grip. ‘’As for the gun problem? We got two Boominbergs we kin refurbish. That gat is pretty sick. 5.56 mm full auto-pain.’’         ‘’I’m not your man-servant, I’m Steelgraft, noone special. I just punch things.’’ I humbly made a reintroduction. That mare was really cheeky, her grin only widened at my obvious discomfort. ‘’Stop it! You’ll set it off!’’ I reached to my neck, holding the collar steady. With a sigh the punk unicorn released my collar, remarking, “Oh chill, it’s not just going to go off juss cuz I give it a tug.” She nickered softly, “Maybe I should get a little leash for yah?” The image of me being led around on a bridle and reins entered my mind, the absurdity broke me into laughter. The griffin--Erm, bird horse thing waved a talon at the air and straightened her shoulder satchel, “A Bloomberg, that’d do nice. I couldn’t pay but consider me interested.” She gave a shrewd smile, looking around nervously. I wondered briefly why she was circling in place, head high and at alert, finally she muttered to us, “You shouldn’t be talking like that! Kids are around!” She took keen interest in me, leaning in and looking me up and down. She tilted her head and took a step back, “What kinda ghoul are you?” Taking in a needless breath and exhaling exasperatedly I prepared for another potential freak-out on my hooves. Here we go again. “Yeah, I’m one of those Deadmare things everypony is so terrified of. Some don’t give a shit, but others do. Nice to see my condition bothers you little miss pony-bird.” “Hippogryph.” Keena corrected me crisply, “And no, It’s a pleasure to speak with you, the others will be so jealous!” If at any point in this conversation had veered into the asinine, this was it. Anyone that would consider it a pleasure to speak with me because I was a death blender was someone I sincerely doubted the mental continence of. Anyone who was jealous of them shared an equal level of stupidity. “I...What? I don’t even---’’ I had no words to convey why I was so confused, my mind slammed itself into a brick wall at thirty knots nautical over and over again, spilling it’s cognition into the clouds swirling below in my metaphorical thought soup. “I’m a bit confused.” Gangrene sighed, “Keena’s parents were interspecies, dolt. Papa liked them fine pone flank and got his kitty kit up in her mare grill. Plow wow pow wow, the good fuck? Birds and the Bees?’’ The yellow mare explained the birds and the bees in a vernacular that made my brain hurt even more. She also completely missed what I was confused about. “No, I mean why would anyone think it’s so great to meet a cyber zombie?” My words came out in a blurt, “Most I hear about ghouls like me are ill omens that murder towns and wreck entire settlements! They’re monsters!” “Language!” Keena hissed gently, looking around to make sure no young whelps were within earshot of us. Thankfully there weren’t, lest the clean speaking hippogryph decide to give me a speech about being a bad influence on kids. “Well it’s because ghouls are really neat, they have all kinds of stories, ya know? At the church we get to hear their stories, what Equestria was like. One thing they say about the Deadmare is they’re tortured souls that seek to return to the life they knew.” She took a short, inward gasping breath, “No one’s ever been able to talk to one of the tortured souls. The prophets are either ignored or...Well, made to pass on.” I think she meant killed. Murdered, executed, ripped to shreds, pushing up daisies, or whatever other way one could creatively say ‘they got fucking killed’. The ‘ignored’ part interested me, Deadmare that just ignored potential targets? Maybe there were other cyber zombies like me out there, ones that thought and had some memories. That was both inspiring and terrifying to me. “I get it, I’m some special snowflake. And you’re a...Church Hippygrunt.’’ I huffed out, rolling my eye, ‘’Yes, I’m a tortured, withered soul, so lost and without cause.” I thought I sounded sarcastic, but as the words left my mouth they became more genuine than I’d intended. Keena scowled, anger mingling in the bright shine of her eyes. She clicked her beak softly, “The Church of Eternia.” She informed me, “And it’s Hippogryph. Hippogryph!” She turned her attention to Gangrene, “So he’s helping us to redeem his past sins?”   The yellow mare laughed, once again tugging my collar against my protests, “Perhaps you missed his lil bomb collar. Motivations aside, he wants to save them kids as much as we do. So, you in or out?” “Donate me a gun and I’m yours! We should recruit more help, if possible.” She chirped, wringing her talons together. “Look no further ladies!” Squeaked the young blue earth pony colt, jumping out from behind a nearby ticket counting machine. Keena leapt up, letting out a startled squawk. It was that little brat, Rebel Riot from earlier. He had been hiding behind a nearby arcade machine, eavesdropping. He trotted up, making sure to stomp with every step to make himself sound bigger, “You need help. I’m the stallion to give it to you! Right, Gangrene? This time I should come with you! You said I could come next time last time!” This had bad idea written all over it, for multiple reasons. 1.) He was annoying. 2.) I didn’t know where we were going but I knew it wasn’t safe. 3.) I could not stress how many nerves this foal raked with his attitude. “Sorry squirt, we’ll take you next time.” Gangrene firmly stated, “I promise. Just this run’s too dangerous.” Thank you Gangrene! “You said that last time! You need a REAL stallion to watch your flank, toots! Not this...” He shot me a glare, sneering as he spoke, “This ass pounding coward.” He snorted, nostrils flared. I was just going to ignore that. “Dat ‘ass poundin coward’ is my partner, crotch fruit. And for as naive as he is, you don’t talk shit bout him, got it?” The yellow mare’s voice was stern and crisp, she hopped down from her perch on the skee ball machine and ruffled Rebel’s mane harshly, pulling him into a noogie. "Sides, you cried when you took a lil tumble playin' a game! Not ready for big times yet." The foal whinnied and squirmed, spitting out a few half-hearted insults, his grey eyes narrowed. “Stahp! You crazy piss sniffer! Ahn whatchu mean partner, what happened to ass-stench?” “Oh, he...retired. Permanent-like. He wanted to do somethin’ else.”  She lied unconvincingly. “He fuckin' died, huh?” He deadpanned, looking up to the mare with an emotionless expression. Gangrene gave a weak smile and nodded, “Nothin’ gets passed you, kid.” Keena, bless her, had stood in shock this entire time, beak held open in shock and surprise. She was stiff as a long dead corpse, stammering out short, broken syllables. “H-how’d yah learn to speak like that? That’s foul” She managed. “You’re a fowl!” Rebel blurts, receiving a firm swat from Gangrene for his rudeness. “Ow, the fuck was that for?!” He rubbed his sore plot with a hoof, biting his lower lip. “That’s for bein’ a brat. Now if you want to help, take this key.” Gangrene levitated the key off from her neck pouch and shoved it into his chest, “Take this key, get into my locker ahn get the Bloomberg rifles. Take em apart and get a workin’ one for Keena here.” She gestured to the still half-stunned hippogryph. The foal bit into the key, grumbling softly, “Frine! Bhedder prey mreh freh thish...” He mumbled around the key-ring, turning to leave us. He slipped around a support pillar next to a pegasus racing game and vanished from sight. “I didn’t know you were a mother, Gangrene,” I muttered to her. “Huh? Me, a mom? Hah, no. I ain’t his mom. I just look after the local kids. Thas what Vipers do.” She spoke with a sly smile. “And that’s why this fat turd’s gonna die.” She waved a hoof in front of the still rather stunned Keena’s face. “Come on, gal, you hear worse shit spew out at them sermons you go to.” Keena shook her head rapidly and blinked, “Yes, perhaps some of our pastors are a bit...Expressive, but foals should never talk like that!” She looked in th direction Rebel Riot had slipped off to, “Are you really trusting a child to fix a firearm?” Gangrene gave Keena a dull look, reaching up with a hoof to slick back her sweat heavy mane, licking her lips, she chuckled. “Why not? Kid’s good at fixin’ and that’s what he does for us at the Rec Center. He really pulls his weight.” Things began to click for me, the recreation center was where the Vipers lived, that was where Rebel Riot stayed. She watched over him. So the vipers were a family, loosely knit, a gang of survivalists. “Will any of the other Vipers be joining us?” I asked. “Nah, they got their own shit. Maybe I’ll ask n’see, but if any shit happens and we die, I need someone to keep watchin’ Rebs and the other urchins.” She stated simply, “Course I’ll be visiting the Recreation Center today, seeing as we’re so close to the mall.” Keena collected her tickets and wound them up, she walked off to a nearby group of foals all circled around a game called Fighting is Magic and handed the small spool to them, returning with her back turned to their cheers and excited smiles. “I wasn’t going to be needing those tickets since you’re giving me a gun. When are we leaving?” “We’re leaving as soon as you tell us where they took the kids.” My words came as a surprise to Keena, her beak falling open. “I thought you knew where they’d be. I don’t know where they are.” She answered, much to the fears that I held. We had no idea where to go and this lead was a dead end.         From bad to worse, everything was going to the dumps in a grand show of opulent failure. Sure, we had another ally which meant we had better chances, but we still didn’t know where the fuck that fat bastard hid in the Industrial Park. We played with the idea that Keena could try scouting for us, but that’d put her in danger considering the types of weapons the Muffincake raiders were said to have. Keena explained that the Muffincakes were enemies with the griffin faction the Whirlybirds, and as such made sure to have anti-air weaponry on hoof in case it came to taking down opponents that were airborne.         Everything was stacked against us and we had been dealt a poor hand. I didn’t know what the game Caravan was, but the analogy Gangrene used seemed fitting, ‘We got dealt blank cards in a game with stakes impossibly high’.         Our gear was unpacked and mounted on us, leaving nothing but the arcade behind, our next stop was the mall. I was burdened by my saddlebags again. Keena had a simple barding of cloth canvas and the empty sling strap that had once been part of her rifle. Gangrene had her armor back on. Rebel Riot was wielding a riot shield on his side, one that bore ‘It’s a Riot’ in bold red letters, except the ‘A' had been replaced by the anarchy symbol. We were probably the strangest group to travel these roads. The loud mouthed foal needed his tools to fix the rifles, which were back at the Recreation Center at a high-rise mall called ‘The Blok’, which had been one of the biggest outdoor malls in all of Detrot during the war. Now, it was a community of scavengers and merchants, just far enough from Muffincake territory that they were unmolested. That’s where Gangrene and her Vipers lived, butted up between faction lines in a ‘grey’ zone. Constant tug of war over the mall had weakened the Muffincakes and Whirlybirds so much that they’d simply given up on the mall and declared it a loss, leaving it to a band of ex-raiders known as The Misfits. They ran a local freak-show and fighting ring known as The Rose Thorn. I was told I’d fit right in.         “That’s a lotta’ info at once, Gangrene. You’ll fuckin’ blow his simple lil brain tellin’ him all dat.” Rebel Riot sneered, having yet to warm up to me whatsoever during our short trip together. “And I can make it home on my own, you don’ need’a babysit me.”         “I ain’t takin’ chances, sides, save you the return trip. Don’t need you getting eaten by wild dogs.” Gangrene’s kept a stable pace, leading the way down a decrepit alleyway. The graffiti screamed ‘psychotic breakdown’ and the dented, warped trashcans were homes to larger than average rats. Gangrene stomped on a radroach that had dared to cross her path, twisting her hoof firmly into it’s twitching corpse.         “Hah, that’s a good one, Gangrene.” I chuckled softly. I watched as Rebel Riot tried to emulate Gangrene by jumping on a radroach, only succeeding at pissing it off. The foal screamed and began fleeing from it.         The yellow mare snorted, pulling her rifle off her back and blasting the radroach in one reflexive motion, spitting afterwards. “That ain’t a joke. Wild dogs eat folks alla time.” She cocked her lever magically and tapped the trigger casing against the spikes on her shoulder armor. “Trigger inside’s feelin’ wonky. Gonna need you to patch up Ole Gil.” “You stole my kill!” Rebel growled, stamping his hoof as if some great wrong had been done to him. “And yeh, I can fix your crummy ole rifle.” He muttered, moving over to the Radroach’s corpse. “That’s what you get, twitch fuck! You get shot dead!” Done mocking the dead radroach, he jumped on it, sending a jet of bug goo to spray out the bullet wound in it’s abdomen, coating me and a nearby wall. We really couldn’t go a single day without me getting coated in something gross, could we? The gross goo smelled of pungent garbage, even stronger than what was covered in buzzing flies in the nearby dumpster. “Oh, thanks. I was feeling hungry anyway.” I wiped my face off, wiping the residue off on a nearby discarded newspaper. ‘We Will Win’ Keens was circling overhead, keeping a watch out for us. She perched on the top rung of the nearby fire escape and whistled to us, “Hey, there’s a bit of an issue up ahead the next road--It’s blocked by Rangers.” “Fuck!” Gangrene’s expletive made Keena wince. “They stoppin’ traders and travelers up there?” “Looks like.” Keena replied, “Taking things from them too. Why would they be this close to Whirlybird or Muffincake territory?” “No idea, maybe they’re gettin’ cocky since Chunky Salsa got done in. Those metal-heads’re robbin’ decent folk of tech. I ain’t ever surprised by those fuckin’ Steel Rangers.” Gangrene’s expression was cold and hard, her nostrils flaring. “Looks like we might have to pay a toll to get passed their pissant roadblock.” “Wait, the same Steel Rangers from the recruitment posters? ‘Fight to protect’ and ‘For a greater Equestria’ are their oaths.” As soon as I said that, Gangrene began to laugh, as did Rebel Riot. “Now, Steelgraft, that’s a bucking great joke!” The mare congratulated me, stomping her hoof and wiping a tear from her eye because she’d laughed so hard. Rebel was on his back, rolling from side to side. “Wait.” Rebel squeaked, drawing an inward breath. He sat up, “Gangrene, I think he’s serious.” The two shot each other a glance then let out boisterous, renewed laughter. I looked up to Keena, who shrugged, just as lost as I was in their humor. “This is over my head.” Keena admitted, “I mean I don’t see what’s so funny when Steel Rangers rob and shoot ponies for anything more tech than a screwdriver.” “More tech than a screwdriver...” I mimicked to myself, looking down at my prosthetics. “This is,” I flexed the digits on my gauntlets, raking the stained concrete, “Going to be a problem.” Steel Rangers, big metal suit wearing ponies with high powered weapons. At least they’re not giant scorpions under all that armor... Do not think about it! Giant armored mechanical scorpions. Fuck you brain, FUCK YOU! With an entire Nimbus class airship. “Heh...Ah, you’re too much Steelgraft. Oaths. Like they give ratshit ‘bout their oaths!” She stomped her hoof several times, tilting her head back to force air into her lungs. “Dayum.” The mare looked about the alleyway, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth, “We are gunna need to cover you up, Steel-butts. Can’t let them scrap you for your shiny bits.” She passed me, brushing against my side, whispering, “And I ain’t talkin’ bout the stitchin' in your dick~” The stitching in my what?! I looked down, between my legs to investigate. No, no staples there. I shot her a glare, “Oh, funny, very funny.” “Too...” She knocked over a trashcan with a sway of her hip, “Easy.” She turned her eyes to the dumpster. “Rebel, ready for some scav-work?” She opened the lid with her magic, looking to the foal expectantly. “You’re not seriously going to make a child go through a dumpster, are you?” Keena was appalled, her beak open in what I assumed was disgust. Beaks weren’t as readable as lips. “Am I ever?” The foal spoke with more enthusiasm than I would have used and bound for Gangrene, dropping his riot shield and leaping up onto Gangrene’s flanks before getting launched into the dumpster. The foal did a graceless bellyflop, scattering a sick collection of rancid trash into the air.         Several of the trashcans lifted up, floated over the dumpster, and emptied their contents out over it, burying Rebel in a stew of junk and debris, “Check this too, see if it has anything.”         “Ow! You stupid bitch, some of that stuff is heavy!” Rebel complained loudly, tossing out several pieces of junk, a broken radio among the pieces. “Why are we having short-stuff rummage in a dumpster full of waste?” I said, trotting over to the yellow mare and looking over the assorted ‘goods’. Broken radio, mentioned before, a few pieces of metal scrap, a couple of dead spark batteries, and a dead rat. “None of this looks very valuable.”         “That’s because these’re peace offerings.” Gangrene explained, tapping the dumpster with her hoof, “That’s enough squirt.” She rapped her hoof against the dumpster’s rusted, battered side.         The foal’s head popped up, a small collection of grime and filth in his mane. Leaping out, he was caught by Gangrene’s magical aura and set down gently. Rebel looked around for some musty newspaper and began wiping himself off with it.         “You okay there?” Keena asked, having left her perch to give the young earth pony a small, ratty cloth to wipe off with. “You’re such a mess, little guy.”         “I ain’t lil!” He growled, snatching the rag and wiping the smears of grease off his face, “And swimming through trash’s one ah my many hobbies. Never know what goods dumbass pones just ditch.”         The hippogryph winced at the use of such language from the foal, turning away and moving to the end of the alleyway, “We could just go around, find another road.” She suggested, leaning her head out to peek around the corner.                  “Nah, we’re almost there. We’re burning daylight, got only one more day to kill that slug.” The Viper’s words were met with a confused glance from Keena. “Well, Steelgraft’s only got one more day.” She elaborated, “He’s the one with the bomb collar.”         “Why would they do such a thing?” Keena demanded, rather appalled, “That’s terrible, worse than just slavery.” Keena seemed like the wholesome type that would have done well back in the Equestria I knew, she was a naive idealist. I liked that about her.         “Desperation, fear, maybe a bit ah good ole fashioned ghoul hatred.” Gangrene stated, lifting up the scrap and junk parts that Rebel had managed to find. She put them in her saddlebag, letting a part of the warped and cracked radio hang out of her bag visibly.         “You mean I might get to see his head pop? Fuckin’ sweet!” Rebel gushed, jumping up and down, “I’ve always wanted to see a slave collar go off!” I shot him a glare and he stopped, adding sheepishly, “I mean, when it wasn’t attached to a pony...” He squeaked, trying to save some face and passed with a C Minus.         “Cute, kid. It’s nice to know my impending decapitation excites you.” I mumbled.         “You gotta be good fer somethin'.” Rebel Riot replied with dark cheerfulness.         “What exactly is our plan?” Keena interjected, being about as lost as I was, “We give them the salvage we have, but that still leaves our friend here exposed. They’ll try to take him into custody.” She rubbed a talon under her beak, “He could find another way around while we go through.”         “I’d get lost,” I shamelessly outed my horrible sense of direction. Might as well be honest, I was new to this part of the city. On the other hoof, I was a redheaded half-blind ghoul with gauntlets fused to my forelegs that were fitted with retractable, magically powered fingers. I really stood out in a crowd and disguising me wouldn’t be that easy.         “I say we put him in a trashcan and carry him!” Rebel suggested, being rather unhelpful. “They’re too dull and brainfucked to think we’d do somethin’ oddball!” Gangrene was liking his suggested idea more than I liked, she was nodding in agreement.         “Actually, I got a better plan than that. Let me just empty these trash bags...” She upended a few more trash cans and tore a few rotten plastic bags from their contents, shaking the bags until they were a wispy shell of thin plastic. She was happy to find an old throw rug among the trash, a moth eaten, ratty old straggled mess, and added that to the pile of plastic and bits of cloth material she found.         “What are you doing?” I asked, wondering how this fascination with garbage was going to help us. Gangrene began knotting pieces of plastic together in places, tacking them to the tattered piece of rug. A belt off her own armor and the small project was complete--It looked like the ugliest cloak I’d ever seen, dripping with damp decay and smelling of mildew.         “I just made you a pretty, pretty dress, Steelgraft.” Gangrene chimed, holding up her small, horrid project in her telekinesis, “Come on, put it on!”         “I am not wearing that.” I deadpanned. “Ever.” The look Gangrene gave me said otherwise.         Okay, so I was now wearing that cloak I said I’d never wear. Gangrene can be very good at convincing others to do things they didn’t want to do. If this had been made of something less disgusting, it might make for good survival wear. The plastic and rotten cloth cloak was dripping, sticky, and smelled. I was grateful I could scarcely feel a thing, for if I could, surely my skin would crawl right off my body in protest. I just had to act natural, like a scavenger and let the fearless Gangrene handle talking to the scary metal suit wearing ponies.         Heavy metal hooves thundered up and down the road at our sides, their breathing heavy and deep through their helmets. I looked away, afraid to catch their gaze. They were larger than life, the suits had an oppressive power about them that was also awe inspiring. This was a small platoon of ponies, eight in total from what I saw, lined up along the road and patrolling up and down the length of the street in pairs. They left us alone for the most part, encouraging us to stop by the checkpoint at the end of the road. A billboard that once advertised Sparkle Cola, with a lovely butter colored pegasus mare with pink hair sipping from a bottle, now had the emblem of the Ministry of Wartime Technology on it. Seeing both the mare and the symbol of the ministry gave brief flickers of nostalgia and memories that were unrecognizable vapor. What do you mean collateral damage? -- Justify the means with that -- I’m so sorry, I’m so very sorry! The voice in my head was soft, delicate, and on the verge of crying. I shook my head, dismissing the broken flickers distracting me. Keep your head in the game, soldier! I expect you to fly straight, even with only one eye! -- That voice I did recognize, it was my commander. I opened my mouth to respond and caught myself, closing my mouth quickly. It’s just a memory, she’s not here. I told myself. The billboard proudly displayed next to the emblem; Steel Rangers Chapter 25, D-Squad         “The ‘D’ actually stands for Dunce,” Gangrene whispered to Rebel, making him laugh. Keena shot both of them a glare and shushed them. That didn’t stop them, they kept going, “Or Doofus.” Rebel added. “Dumbass?” Gangrene returned.         “It actually stands for ‘Do not screw this up,’ “ Keena clucked. The Steel Rangers had set up a roadblock across the main road leading into the mall, several concrete dividers and a shabby looking security shack had been erected, along with a traffic gate painted in the caution colors of yellow and black. At this checkpoint was the biggest stallion I’d ever seen, easily three heads higher than me, his broad shoulders and wide stance held all the authority he wielded. A marking on his shoulder marked him as a different rank from the others I had seen. His armor was dented and damaged, making him seem more rugged and battle hardened, on either flank was a phrase painted in bold stenciled letters; ‘Stand Tall’. He had a heavy looking gatling gun mounted on his side, the barrel gave an occasional low, lazy half spin.          Once we were stopped at the checkpoint, behind a small group of traders waiting their turn to get through, Keena began to get nervous. She tapped her talons to the cracked asphalt and looked around in rapid, jerking motions, eyes jumping from ranger to ranger. I was trying to keep my head down, covered in the plastic makeshift hood, tatters trailing and flicking in the stale breeze. “Alright, you’re free to go...” The gate was raised for the merchants ahead of us, bringing us under the close scrutiny of the Rangers. The massive stallion stood at the gate while his smaller companion asked us to step forward. “Do you have any technology deemed excessive for tribal civilian use?” Asked the ordinary looking ranger, armed with a rather nasty looking scattergun. The voice was a mare’s, which was unsettling considering that it was an expressionless metal suit with dull green glowing eyes. “Uh, no, not anythin’ excessive.” Gangrene spoke firmly, “What the hay you upstandin’ coltscouts doin’ so far from your cozy lil’ bunker?” The pitch of her voice was artificially sweet, honeyed with venom and spite behind every syllable. “I cannot disclose that information.” The steel ranger replied, she marched around us, heavy metal hooves pounding the ground deliberately. “So, what do we have here? You don’t look like caravaners. Travelers? Where from?” “We just got done having an outing at Highscore’s Arcade.” Keena explained, her voice mellow yet cheerful, “How are you today?” Her polite tone was noted by the steel ranger, who paused at her side.         “You’re an odd looking buzzard.” The ranger quipped coldly, brushing off Keena’s kindness like one would pick at a scab, looking her up and down, “Are you with the Whirlybirds? Didn’t know they took half-breeds.”         Keena visibly bristled, her feathers standing on end, her beak grinding silently, the anger she held left her swiftly, she let out the air she had inhaled as a soft sigh, “No, I’m not. I’m from the Church of Eternia, a worshiper of the Goddesses of Celestia and L-”         “I get it, you’re a churchmouse. Guess that means you keep your beak clean. Good on you...” Her voice rumbled over her respirator and she cleaved the air with a hoof dismissively, bringing it down firmly, “Enough chit chat with you, lets see who else I’m dealing with.” She gave Rebel some unwanted attention, leaning in to look at him, “What a cute lil filthy runt. This your kid, ma’am?” Disrespect and mocking were baked into every syllable.         Gangrene turned to face the ranger, chuckling softly and drawing Rebel Riot into a loose headlock, “This lil crotch-fruit? Nah, I’m just his baby sitter! Try to not scare him too much, he’s skittish.” I could tell her demeanor was struggling to hold, both her and Rebel had an extreme dislike of the Steel Rangers. I wondered why. “Stupid canned bitch.” Rebel Riot grumbled. “What was that, foal?” The Ranger demanded. “N-nothin’ ma’am, just mumblin’.” Rebel Riot squeaked, trying to back into Gangrene defensively. “Silver Tongue, stop heckling the travelers. If they’ve got no level 7 Tech let them go.” The massive stallion at the gate clad in armor had a deep, rumbling voice amplified by his armor’s speaker. He shifted, taking a light step to begin lifting the gate. “Yes sir, I was just getting to that, sir!” The mare half bellowed, half stammered while offering a stiff and rigid salute. She then looked over Gangrene and noticed the wires hanging out of her bag, “Ah, this one thought she’d pull a quick one!” She moved to Gangrene and placed a heavy hoof on her. Don’t you place a hoof on her! My mind screamed, I briefly entertained the idea of grabbing the armored mare by the casing on her tail and using her as a bludgeon to beat her superior, but dismissed it as a bad idea.         “You got me!” Gangrene whinnied, her acting needed work, but the wince and flicker of anger were genuine, “It’s just a busted radio! Go ahead, take it and the metal junk and sensor I got. No troubs here, mac.”         “You stupid tribals could never pull one over on Silver Tongue.” The ranger stated boastfully, eager to take the goods from Gangrene’s saddlebag, “Be glad we don’t detain you for obstruction, you’re free to go.” I think I knew why Gangrene and Rebel hated them, they were nothing like the poster said they were. They were a disgrace to their ministry and to their mare!                  Tensions lowered, muscles relaxed, and our small party was leaving this ordeal behind us. I had to hand it to Gangrene, everything went according to plan, all we lost was junk we didn’t care about. “Wait,” bellowed the large stallion known as Standtall, “You, the one in the plastic poncho, stop right there.” A sense of panic ran through the entire group, Gangrene was already squaring her stance, Keena spread her wings, and Rebel hid behind Gangrene. I froze, keeping my head down, I turned to face him. What does he want? Nothing good, I worried. Clearing my throat, I kept my voice as mellow and smooth as I could, “What is it?” “Take off your hood.” Standtall commanded, his suit hissing softly with every movement he took until he loomed over me. I complied, shaking my head until the hood fell, not wanting to let him see my gauntlets. The pale pelt and stitching of my face was bare to him, as was the collar around my neck. I kept my head low, trying to limit what he could see, my single eye rolled up to meet the visor’s gaze. After he looked me over, his head giving a slow up and down nod, he spoke, “Are you a slave to these travelers?” He demanded, his smooth voice held no contempt or anger. It was nearly impossible to discern his emotion. Think! You’ve no idea what he’ll do if you tell him you’re a slave! I took an inward, rattling breath, briefly chuckling before I shook my head. “No, I am not a slave,” I lied, “I volunteered to wear this explosive collar in case I went feral.” That had some truth to it, the best lies alway did. “If I lose my mind it will go off. It protects my companions from ever having to deal with my cognitive degeneration.” I used the same vernacular that Undertaker had used, trying my best to emulate his speaking style and prose. “Interesting. I’d never heard a slave collar being used in such a way. May I ask your name?” He spoke clearly, his voice rumbling and deep, “I’d like to add it to the guest records. Your name should be remembered.” “Everyone’s name should be remembered.” I countered with an insistent tone, “But since you’ve singled me out, my name is Steelgraft. My companions are Gangrene, Keena, and Ass-Pain.” I spoke clearly, Rebel Riot let out a half stammered curse since that was not his name. Gangrene silenced him with a hoof over his mouth. “Ah, good.” Standtall muttered, “Care to tell me what sector you’re from? Are you a Detrot local?” “I’m from the Dead Zone.” I confessed casually, “It’s a dangerous place, perhaps you’ve heard of it?” Did I just really say that? I was reminded of those hipster ponies I used to make fun of at cheap dives where the coffee was stale and cost 8 bits. “I have.” Standtall acknowledged, “That explains why you’re showing up red on my E.F.S.” The gatling barrel on his weapon began to gain momentum in a full spin. Gangrene opened fire, pelting the Standtall with bullets around his respirator and visor to disorient him. They didn’t seem to do much, just harmlessly pinging off his armor. The first arc of his spray went wide of me, tearing up the ground and scattering chunks of asphalt wildly, Standtall’s visor sparked, hissing out a short garbled noise. Shit! I didn’t even know what E.F.S. was and already I was thinking the worse, red typically meant combatant. But I hadn’t done anything aggressive except...Thinking about bludgeoning him with Silver tongue! Was the system that sensitive to detect motive? That’s worse than a detect evil spell! That was a detect motive spell on par with a master unicorn. Also, I was pretty sure I wasn’t evil. My party was already in action, Keena grabbed Rebel Riot and flew straight up to get him out of harms way and Gangrene had already drawn her rifle, the barrel blazing as she let off round after round at Standtall. “The fuck’s wrong with you rangers? Killin’ pones for spark batteries just ain’t ‘nuff anymore?!” She sounded very, very unhappy. Standtall managed to recover, getting his barrel up to speed again. Silver Tongue crossed into his line of fire. “Let me handle these punks!” The mare ranger cocked her riot shotgun and fired, slamming me with the spread and tearing gaping holes in my black plastic cloak. “Stand down, Silver Tongue!” Standtall bellowed, his underling did not comply. He had to maneuver to get a clear shot at me or any of my companions. They were militant, but disorganized. Had they fallen so far that they couldn’t even keep their soldier’s in line? Tragic and pathetic. My gun was under my cloak, in the way. I couldn’t reach it, so I had to think of something creative. Might as well ditch this disguise and embarrass this eager maverick soldier charging me in one fell swoop. Acting on pure impulse, my digits in my gauntlets unfurled from their housings and took hold of the hem of the cloak, peeling myself free of it. Trash-bag cloak in hand, I moved forward, juking to the side to avoid another direct hit from the shotgun’s roaring fire. Sweeping the air like a net, I aimed to capture a several hundred pound graceless metal butterfly, tangle her up and grip my new weapon by the metal case around her tail. It just begged to be used as the handle to a flail, a flailing flail. “Rangers fall in! A Steel Rangers rendezvous at me! Combatants!” The leader of the small band of rangers yelled into his own helmet. A cascade of hoofbeats, metallic in nature fell across asphalt and gravel, growing closer with tension raising quickness. ‘CLANK!’ I swung my improvised Steel Ranger flail against Standtall and staggered him, then struck him several more times, each time echoing the beautiful sound of metal striking metal. Silver Tongue was kicking, unwittingly striking out at her commander and firing her weapon. She screamed with each impact against her superior officer. In my final swing, I spun and let her go, sending both of them to go tumbling backwards, wrecking their security shack and collapsing it around them. “You’re a disgrace to your mare and her ministry!” I shouted at my bested opponent. I had little time to gloat, we had to move, now. I would leave this stallion to lick his wounds and consider himself lucky he had well armed friends close by. “Now that’s what I call takin’ out the trash, Steelgraft!” Gangrene whooped and chuckled, “Take that you metal husked fruit-fuckers!” Why...Why hadn’t I thought of that line? Damnit, I was really slacking on the zing today. “We need to get moving!” Keena called from overhead, circling us at a low altitude, around sixty feet, Rebel was kicking his legs, screaming. Poor kid must have been afraid of heights. “Those rangers will get here fast!” Keena added, her point driven home by the bullets flying in our general direction, some hitting too close for comfort, tearing holes in my burlap duster and pinging off the sewn-in metal plates. How the hell are they so accurate at that range?! Bullets ricocheted off the ground and all around us, I was struck several times in the flank and shoulder, but I was not slowing down for anything. Gangrene was in front of me so I could give her cover. I kept my eye straight forward, which meant I was staring at the muscled, sweaty curves of her armored flanks. I averted my gaze upward, seeing that Keena was doing just fine. Rebel had gone from screaming to cheering as the hippogryph began pulling aerial maneuvers to shake any chance for a round to actually strike her. “A little further and we’ll out range their S.A.T.S.!” Gangrene wheezed, her pace was beginning to lag, her flank bumped into the side of my face. I pushed her to keep her going. “What the buck is Sats and w-why argh! Gangrene, keep going!” I was not at my nicest moment, I was leaking black and red ichor in twin trails and couldn’t feel any of my injuries. I was sure that I was the only one injured out of our party, so why couldn’t Gangrene just suck it up? I briefly imagined E.F.S stood for ‘Easily Fucked Stallion’ and S.A.T.S. stood for ‘Super Asinine Tactical Squad’. “This is fuckin’ t-ririn’, gallopin a mile straight!” The mare whined her excuse, “Runnin’ outta steam here...” She squealed as I bit her on the ass, “You buckin’ cheeky bastard!” I bit her again, she squealed and sped up, keeping her momentum going. “C-cut that out, you’re leavin’ marks!” “Then don’t slow down!” I growled, “Just a bit further!” My mane was getting into my eye, I was having trouble seeing. I shook my head, blowing the matted, gnarled mess of red locks from my eye and tossed my head back, finally able to see where I was going. Everything was still just a blur of motion, one eye and no real depth perception limited how I could see. If my other eye worked, maybe I’d be able to see better! The mall was just ahead, we could lose pursuit of the rangers in there, Celestia’s grace permitting. The large erected wall at the mouth’s entrance had two guards posted, both wearing attire not much different from what raiders would wear. Gangrene flagged them down, panting for breath, “Let us the fuck in! Tin cans! Buckin’ tin cans!” Keena landed nearby, striding alongside us. I wondered briefly why she hadn’t just flown in, but dismissed such wondering for the task at hoof. The two guards atop the catwalk dashed over to levers on opposite sides, grunting with effort to engage the mechanism to open the door. Two large engines sputtered to life, belching out smoke from a towering set of chimney pipes, and eating a length of chain into a spinning winch to lift the door. “Them jerk asses, huh? Get in, we’ll tell em’ to fuck off.” One spoke, then the other added in a chiming, near melodic tone, “We’d love a tip though!” We made it inside and the gate slammed shut behind us. Still don’t have your character sheet? You’re hopeless. Well, at least you LEVELED UP. I reward exp for speech successes and skill-checks, you know. Oh, lets not forget about when you bear-trapped a raider in the face. That was rather entertaining. New Flaw! Macro-Entomophobia Character Progress Review Level Up! Level 5 acquired! Spend those skillpoints wisely...You don’t get a lot of them. Mostly because you’re mentally average. I’d say subnormal, but the skillpoints you gain per level say otherwise. I still think you’re an idiot. Just my personal opinion.