//------------------------------// // Rolled Snake Eyes // Story: Fallout: Equestria: New World Blues // by Lumpfish //------------------------------// Fallout: Equestria: New World Blues Chapter 2: Rolled Snake Eyes -- ---------------------- “Click Clack” “Quip” “Whisper Leaf” “Nifty Thrift” “Polo” ---------------------- Question slips out like a rich perfume. Lulls him in, begs him to agree to it. But another cold wind blows through. Been asked this plenty of times throughout life’s road. Answer’s always been the same. “Nope.” And always will be. The jackal doesn’t seem fazed. Even grins wider, as if he expected the answer. “Good. Then my proposition will be all the more enticing to you.” He tightens the grip on his nehmoa as the Jackal starts to trot, enterin’ the back door’s lantern light. Can spot those details now that he couldn’t in the bar. Blood red coat. White, almost gray mane. Suit, tie and fedora are all a dark gray. Stands about half a head taller than him. Has a form that would fit right in with a pit of serpents. “Believe ah just told ya ah wasn’t a bettin’ stallion stranger. Ah doubt ah’ll agree to any deal yer lookin’ to make.” “Oh, but do you know that for certain?” the jackal purrs, takes another step. Another inch and he draws. But the jackal stops, looms on that border. “What if, ranger, this ‘deal’ has nothing for you to lose and everything to gain? A bet whose outcome is already assured in your favor?” The jackal scoffs, shrugs. “Why, accepting such a surefire win isn’t a bet at all. It’s common sense. Something you’ve displayed to have a rather large quantity of, might I commend.” Sweet talk. Suspicious... His eyes narrow. “Where are ya goin’ with this?” “Ah...” The jackal sighs, turns his eyes up. “The question I’ve been waiting for.” The jackal slides a hoof up to his chest. “First, introductions. My name is Snake Eyes, cue the dual dice I have for a mark. I have been a resident of New Pegasus since birth, gorging myself upon the wonders of gambling, drinking, whores... I’m sure you get the picture.” Snake Eyes pauses, as if waitin’ for a response. Starts up again before the silence sinks in. “Second, yourself. It’s rude to eavesdrop, I know, but I couldn’t help overhearing about your ‘delivery’ back in the bar.” Snake narrows his eyes, scannin’ him over with suspicion. “A courier to Mr. Spade. Care to explain?” He backs off from the holster. Still ready for a draw. “What ya heard is what ya heard. Ah don’t just spill details to any stranger that asks for ‘em.” “Mmm. Not even a name?” Give him the answer with his own narrowed eyes. “Pheh.” Snake Eyes crinkles his nose. “A stallion of iron, I see. Very well. Allow me to give you my details then. See if I can put myself in a better light.” Snake motions a hoof back to the settlement, disgust clear on his face. “You’re most likely wondering what a high class resident of New Pegasus is doing in a...’place’?... such as this. I’ll spare us the next few hours and give you the simple version of this story: I happened to anger a select group of powerful ponies and had to simply ‘lay low’ for a while. Leave New Pegasus and let them cool down, if you understand. Now...?” Snake nods west, muzzle curlin’ up in a smile. “I feel it’s time to return home.” “Alright. Start trottin’.” “Ugh!” Snake rolls his eyes. “No! Bloodthirsty bandits, savage natives, predatory wildlife... It almost killed me making my way out here, I don’t want to die on the way back!” Dots start to connect. “...And ah ‘spose this is where ah come in.” “Exactly.” Snake’s smilin’ again, looks to the bar door then back to him. “You proved yourself quite capable back there. With a ranger like you as an associate, the return road to New Pegasus would no doubt prove itself a tame one.” Hm. Deal's soundin' awfully slated. Not surprised. “Got a few kinks with yer idea. To start things off, ah don’t trust ya.” Snake waves a hoof for him to continue, looks unfazed. “Unsurprising. And...?” He nods to Snake’s back, bare under the light. “Ya ain’t got wings. Four or five day flight to New Pegasus could turn to a couple week’s trot.” “True. Keep going.” Feel as if he’s bein’ toyed with. Go on anyway. “And chances are that ah’d get a bunch of ponies ah ain’t ever met on mah bad side, all for a travelin’ companion that don’t look to have much experience with his gun or survival skills.” He grimaces, shakes his head. “Ah’m not seein’ the profit for me.” Golden eyes glint in the moonlight. “That’s because I haven’t told you yet. Let’s get back to basics, shall we? Your mission is a delivery of some object or message to Mr. Spade, Lord of New Pegasus. Can you at least agree to that?” Ain’t nothin’ Snake Eyes hasn’t heard. He cocks his head. “Sure.” “Do you know anything about Mr. Spade?” Roll the question about, chew on it a bit. “‘Sposedly alive since the old war, yet ain’t a ghoul. Kept New Pegasus intact through the war somehow...” Fact sheet drops off. He shrugs. “Ah’ll be honest, the mission briefin’ was thin on the details. Fly out to New Pegasus, deliver the message to Mr. Spade, get his response, fly back out.” Snake sighs. “Then allow me to fill in what your superiors did not: Mr. Spade is a ghost, ruling New Pegasus with an invisible hoof. He has no messengers, no greeters to accept messengers, nothing. In fact, only four ponies in the past twenty five years have spoken directly to Mr. Spade.” Ah. Heard this one before. “And ah ‘spose yer one of ‘em?” Snake’s muzzle rises into a smirk. “Not quite. A lifelong friend of one of them. Assist me back to this friend’s good graces, you get easy access to New Pegasus and an audience with Mr. Spade.” Hm. Lifelong friend. Ain’t much better. He keeps Snake’s eyes in focus. Old familiar quiver would give it all away. “Story’s soundin’ a little convenient there, Snake.” But Snake laughs, gold eyes shimmerin’ in the moonlight’s silver. “Very well. Go on then. Fly west, to New Pegasus. Once you’ve spent a month trying to get past the city’s defenses which would let me in at a second’s notice, once you’ve wandered about The Strip for weeks without a clue of where to begin, once you’ve exhausted all options and return to your superiors to report a failure... then you can begin to have regrets of this night. Til’ then... good luck.” Snake stares down at him with a small frown, eyes of steel. Not a single damn twitch. Exhale to steady himself. Don’t want to chase this fella off just yet. “‘Spose ah fly off to New Pegasus, security turns out rather simple, and ah find this friend of yers mahself?” Snake shrugs, sneerin’. “He would most likely kill you. Or have you killed. Probably the latter. He has a small army at his disposal after all.” Holes are startin’ to patch ‘emselves up. Well, the big ones at least... “Alright. ‘Spose ah fly off to New Pegasus, find this friend of yours, and let him know you’re out here?” “He’d imprison you, send out scouts, wait for them to return with me, then maybe alert Mr. Spade for you, after wasting several more weeks than you had to. If the scouts didn’t find me, he’d have you killed.” “Hm. Ain’t too friendly folk, are ya?” “Welcome to Equestria.” True enough. Silence creeps over ‘em both. Loosen the set jaw, drop the wings, ease the stress off his legs. Let his mind wander a bit. Think of any holes he might of missed. Lonesome night breeze blows between ‘em, nudgin’ their manes in the wind. Would shiver about now if not for the company. “If ya’ll are so tight, why didn’t ya run to yer friend for protection?” Snake shakes his head. “It was really a ‘spur of the moment’ sort of thing. Also to mention, New Pegasus is a city, and unlike any other you’ve been in no doubt. Different from the open desert and other such wilderness, there’s only so long you can hide yourself before somepony slips you some poison or you find a knife in your back. Better to keep out of sight and return when things are cooled." Again, true. He falls silent, sucks in a bit of cold air. Bein’ grounded the rest of this mission is the biggest blow. Would over double his travelin’ time, open up new dangers. Then again, reach New Pegasus and his story’s true... Then there’s Snake Eyes himself. Ain’t the sort of stallion ya turn yer back to, much less travel with. But then he does seem mighty desperate. Backstabbin’ would only happen after they’re already in New Pegasus, past this supposed defense system... Ah damn. He’s actually considerin’ this. After he gets back, think it’ll be about time for a nice long sit-down with the scouting force. “Ya've been patient over there. Just need to understand ah’m not the most trustin’ of stallions.” Snake Eyes bows his head a slight. “I understand completely. I wouldn’t trust myself either were I experiencing this from your perspective. Not to mention, if your age and experience are any indication, you’ve survived your own fair share of double-crossers throughout life’s roads.” Ain’t that the truth. A short pause later and Snake Eyes goes on. “If you’re still having doubts about my sincerity, I wouldn’t be past placing in a few ‘tests’ for myself. ‘Checks’... ‘restrictions’, so to say.” He raises a brow. “What ya have in mind?” “A ‘check’ for example: Ask anypony we come across about Mr. Spade. If they tell you he’s the most talkative and friendly pony on the strip, you can dump me off right then and there as a liar.” Believe that’s called ‘common sense’. He nods. “Go on.” “Mmmm... Aaah.” Snake’s eyes brighten. “Obviously I’ve only given you a small portion of my own predicament. Along the road I’ll tell you more and shed a bit of light on my own backstory. Not much, I know, but it’s the details which create the line between truth and lies.” Stallion’s got a way with words. Somethin’ to be wary of. Maybe even put to good use. “One more of yer restrictions and ah’ll take yer deal.” Snake Eyes rises, eyes widenin’. “Oh?” He tips his stetson to the six-shooter holstered on Snake Eyes’ right shoulder. “Yer gun. And any other weapons ya got on ya. Don’t like leavin’ a pony defenseless in this day and age, but it’s a might easier hearin’ ya scuffle around for a rock to smash mah head in as opposed to slippin’ out yer iron.” Same grin Snake Eyes’ first wore pops back up. “I probably would miss you point blank given the chance. I have horrible aim. That said...” Snake Eyes trots a few steps forward, twists so that his right shoulder and its holster face out. “I’m assuming you want to perform the honors?” Consider it for a moment. Second it takes to pull that six shooter puts him in a good position for a slit throat. Do it the old fashioned way then. “Nope.” He slowly unholsters his nehmoa, aims it at Snake. Makes sure to keep it an inch off target. Can’t trust these old bones like he used to. “Unholster it yerself and set it to the ground. Slowly, and mind the aim.” Snake Eyes frowns at the nehmoa before scoffin’, carefully reachin’ for his own iron. Takes it by the mouth grip, slips the six shooter from its holster, bends over and lowers it to the ground. Risin’ back to his hooves, Snake retreats a few steps and motions to the discarded weapon. “There you are. The only weapon I have. Not much compared to that hoof cannon you have there, but I rarely ever use it in the first place.” Keeps his nehmoa ready as he retrieves the gun. Snake watches him move, holdin’ perfectly still. Pick it up off the ground, turnin’ it around in his hooves. Standard 357 magnum revolver. Long barrel puts it away from the rest. And the rose-like engravin’s that run along its metal. Club on its mouth grip, hearts next to the cylinder. His eye catches on a single word runnin’ along either side of the barrel. ‘Lucky’. Looks back up to Snake, brow raisin’. “Lucky?” Snake smirks, shruggin’. “It’s more a family heirloom than anything, really. Passed down from my father. Name came with it.” He peers at the gun, smirk fadin’. “Still, I admit it holds... ‘personal’ value to me. Don’t lose it. Or damage it.” He nods while unlatchin’ the cylinder, removin’ the shots. “Don’t need to worry yourself about that. Ah take care of the guns ah carry, owned or not.” All six shots out. Latch the cylinder back in, deposit the ammo and Lucky into his left saddlebags. Holsters his nehmoa too. Now for Snake. He scans the stallion hoof to head, stoppin’ when they meet eyes. “Gonna need a quick pat down.” Snake sighs, loosenin’ his posture. “Keep it tail and above.” “No need for anything else.” He trots to Snake Eyes’ side, beginning to press along the fabric. “Had three different assignments helpin’ folks set up some prisons. ‘Correctional Facilities’, as the NER like to call ‘em. Learned mighty quick the signs for when a pony’s hidin’ somethin’ in a place it shouldn’t be.” “An interesting little tidbit there,” Snake says, liftin’ his chin. Startin’ around the chest now. Suits a bit dirty. Rugged. No surprise. Silk ain’t meant for such a place. “I suppose I’ll be hearing more along the way?” Other side. Almost done. “Depends. Could hear none, could hear quite a few. Mane and hat now.” Snake Eyes tips his head down, allowin’ him to take the fedora into his hooves. rim’s spotless. Bowl’s empty. Nothin’ suspicious. Snake’s mane is about standard length. Holds that dark white color in spite of all the dirt. Combed back in the past were he to guess. Desert made sure to rough that up, turn single strands to pasted rope. He hands the fedora back to Snake Eyes. Only one thing to do now. Take a step forward, swipe a hoof through the tail. Nothin’. “Alright. That’ll do,” he rasps, trots back and lets Snake regroup himself. When Snake finishes, he holds out a hoof. “Welcome aboard. Name’s Tumbleweed.” Snake Eyes grins, accepts the hoofshake. “I was right then. I guessed it from the ball of brambles you have for a mark I spotted under your duster, but didn’t want to appear rude. Seems you and I share the same burden many other ponies must carry: the mark tells our name. Makes it difficult to hide it.” “Right. Doesn’t mean ah can’t keep ‘em guessin’.” “Very true.” Fasten the holster, check the rifle and saddlebags again. Another cold breeze sweeps through, makes him pull his duster tight. Feels like a while they’ve been standin’ there talkin’. Surprised Snake ain’t freezin’ to death with only that suit. “I’m assuming we’re not finding rest in the settlement?” Snake asks, glancin’ from the bar back to him. “Nope. Half a mile trot out, cluster of rocks beneath that mound off in the distance. Trust the wildlife more than the drunks.” “Fair enough. Lead the way.” First things first. Stetson off, combat helmet on. “Aaah...” Snake Eyes purrs as he watches him retrieve his helmet. “Wide lens, spark battery compartment... night vision?” Flick. Familiar red tint swims over his vision. “Yep.” Voice comes out thick and muted. “Stick close. But not too close.” “Of course.” White glow from the bar fades out behind ‘em as they trot further into the desert. Snake Eyes does a fair job followin’, steppin’ over rocks, skirtin’ shrubs. So silent he glances back over the shoulder a few times along the way just to make sure he’s still there. Watch for any smart ideas he might get too. ‘Bout ten minutes of trottin’ later and they reach the mound. Same one he’d been overlookin’ the settlement from not too long ago, cept at its base. Can’t reach the top without wings. Wouldn’t camp there anyway. Just askin’ to get picked off. Location he’s picked out is a blessin’ from nature. Three tall rocks formin’ a near wall, springin’ out from the base of the mound, yet leaves just a small enough space between the two for a few ponies to rest. “Right here, behind these rocks.” He steps aside, gudin’ Snake Eyes into the site. Snake trots into the area, pawin’ a hoof at the ground. After a bit he looks back up, frownin’. “Not bad, from what I can see. The dirt is rather... ‘unsatisfactory’, but that comes with the desert. In the end, safer than most places I’ve been sleeping the past couple of weeks.” “Glad it passes your inspection,” he grunts, followin’ him in. Snake scoffs but settles to the ground, restin’ his head on his front hooves. Shouldn’t be too hard on him. Miracle he ain’t bitchin’ like a spoiled filly considerin’ his upbringin’. He takes off his saddlebags, rummagin’ through ‘em for some grub. Comes back with a can of rations. Hold ‘em up to Snake Eyes who’s been watchin’ him the whole time. “Hungry? Ain’t tasty, but it’ll fill you up.” Snake waves him off with a hoof. “Already had my dinner back at the bar, although I’m sure even your rations would put that garbage to shame.” Right then. Find a nice spot to lay back. Happens to be up against the side of the mound. Just steep enough so that he ain’t belly up, strugglin’ to move about. He does the old ritual of cuttin’ open the rations, starts to slurp it down. Tastes different than the first. There it is. A dark red engravin’ against his light red tint. C-rations. Carrots. B-rations, beans, was yesterday. S-rations, spinach, the day before that. P-rations, D-rations, A-B-C-rations. So many damn rations he can’t keep up after all these years. And yet none of ‘em taste like what they say. Finish up dinner, toss the can. Give the critters a new play set. Then silence. Desert life’s crawled underground from the cold. Miners asleep in their barracks. The bar’s lights have blackened, snuffed out durin’ their trot to the mound. Even the wind’s died back out, precious few wisps it gave ‘em. Assume Snake Eyes is asleep. Good at fakin’ if he isn’t. Lies perfectly still, looks almost dead. His own eyes start to droop, tell him its about that time to hang up the old dreamweaver. But his mind, instincts, won’t let him. Celestia, what the hay is he doin’. Takin’ along a civilian, ‘specially after the entire squad just got picked off by Rhinos headin’ out from this area. Single stiff breeze will six this city-slicker. Then Snake Eyes himself. Ponies like him are always thinkin’, even when chattin’ with others. Thinkin’, plannin’, all so their next bet will pay off in their favor. Ain’t much a thinkin’ stallion. Get in, get the mission done. If ya gotta be silent about it, be silent. Gotta go in head first, least find some cover. Always been simple. Always been good at it. Thinkin’s done nothin’ but throw him off course. Thinkin’s gotten squad members killed. If the talk outside the bar is any hint, Snake Eyes is doin’ some thinkin’ of his own. Question is, when does a ‘thinkin’’ become a ‘doin’’. Let out a breath, try to clear his mind. Rest his head back against the side of the mound. Flick off the night vision to save sparks. White of Snake Eyes’ mane takes in the moonlight good, lettin’ him keep an eye on him. Case he has a trick up those sleeves. Pull his duster tight, nehmoa closer. Then he waits. -- Footnote: Maximum level reached Status: Normal You’ve gained a companion! Snake Eyes This companion currently has no known perks This companion currently has no known traits -- ---------------------- The room falls under a shadow as the screen's light fizzles out, castin' the fifteen of 'em at the briefing table into a shadow. They sit there silently, some noddin', most without so much as a breath of acknowledgement. The stallion in front of the screen turns towards 'em, lookin' 'em all over with judging eyes. "You have your objectives," he says firmly, eyes hardening. "Are there any questions?" Not a single hoof, nor talon, is raised. The stallion nods and relaxes. "Then begin preparation. You have a full day before moving out, so spend your time wisely studying the targets and objectives. If you find a question or wish to hear the briefing details again, you may request it from either me or the commander." His gaze changes to the three unicorns that sit at the head of the table. "Sergeant Night Light, Corporal Hot Pie, Specialist Rowdy, the M.A.S. will be escorting you to the megaspell chamber for further instructions. Dismissed." Everyone starts to move at once. The three unicorns are escorted from the room by two heavily armed guards. The rest of 'em murmur amongst one each other, exitin' the way they'd come. He sits there without a word, starin' at the screen. Lot of information. Lot of targets. Lot of ponies. He grimaces, sinkin' back in his seat. Lot that can go wrong. ---------------------- Surprises him to see Snake Eyes stirrin’ before the dawn breaks. Would think a stallion like him would live by the night. Snake raises his head from his hooves, blinkin’. Looks about a bit, stoppin’ his gaze upon him. He’s lyin’ against the mound, unmovin’, still wearin’ the combat helmet and mask to cover his face. Doesn’t know he’s awake. Give him one reason. One evil eye, one betrayin’ smirk, and it’ll end soon as it began. But Snake loses interest, rises to his hooves. Takes one look down at his dirtied suit and curls his lip up in disgust, beginnin’ to brush himself off. Tension drains away. Maybe bein’ a bit paranoid. He begins to stir himself, reachin’ up and removin’ his combat helmet and mask. “Ah.” Snake Eyes grins at him, riddin’ himself the last blots of dust. “Not to sound suspicious, but I had a hunch you would be awake under there. Not a chance you’d leave me unsupervised after the whole ‘20 questions’ scenario last night.” Alright. Maybe not too paranoid. Lifts himself from the mound, depositin’ his mask and helmet. “Told ya last night: ain’t the most trustin’ of stallions.” “That you did,” Snake Eyes hisses between his teeth. “But for both our sakes, try not to miss out on too much sleep, yes? Don’t want to wind up dead because the ranger was too busy looking for the knife at his back instead of the bullet in his face.” He grunts, rummagin’ for his stetson. Either speakin’ sense or spinnin’ a web. Tell with time. Ignore it for now. Don the stetson, fasten the holster, check the rifle. Before strappin’ on the saddlebags, he unlatches the two canteens, holdin’ one up for Snake Eyes. “Drink up as much as ya need. We’ll have ‘em refueled in a minute here.” “Stopping by the bar before we leave?” Snake Eyes asks, uncorkin’ his canteen. “Yep. Miners should be in their work, leavin’ us some room. Even a few stragglers should be holdin’ off their drinks for now.” Uncorks his own canteen, takes a few long draughts and a breath before continuin’. “Won’t be in there for long. Trot in, get ‘em filled up, maybe get a bite of info, get out.” Snake Eyes hands him back the canteen, noddin’. “Good. I’ve spent enough time in this junk heap as is. The sooner we put it behind us, the better.” He latches the canteens back to the saddlebags, strappin’ the saddlebags on tight. Double check the stetson, nehmoa, and rifle. “Alright. Stick close.” “...But not too close. Yes, yes.” Sand and dirt’s a calmin’ shade of blue as they set out. Thin fog blankets the ground. Makes it all look more an ocean than a desert. Dunes and mounds turn to waves, crashin’ against the rocks, flowin’ along the shrubs. But dawn breaks the final stretch to the bar. Chases the fog away. Turns the ocean to gold, rocks to rubies, shrubs to shimmerin’ wreaths. Catches for only a moment before the desert’s familiar grit settles in. Not gold but a pale yellow. Not ruby, but a rusted red. “Aaah... look at you...” Snake Eyes trots up beside him, grins as he scans him over from hoof to head. "Well muscled, yet not too buff... have that weathered, rugged look..." Snake sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Now that I can actually see you, I’ll make another bet: you had all the fillies chasing after you back in your day, no?” Edges of his mouth twitches. Don’t know whether to frown or not. “No. Ah fancied a few, a few fancied me,” rubs his lips together, tryin’ not to think. “Nothin’ ever came of any of ‘em.” Snake Eyes frowns for him. “What a shame. If you had gained entrance to New Pegasus back in your youth they’d of been unable to keep their hooves off of you. Mares always seem to flock to the occasional cowboy who manages to slip onto the strip.” “Doubt anything would of come of it. Never been one for sleepin’ around.” “You have also never been to New Pegasus.” Small talk cuts as they reach the steps to the bar’s porch. Off in the distance the hills slope down to the mines. Can see a rainbow of blurs movin’ about outside the minin’ cave, hustlin’ carts along rails and unloadin’ coal into large steel bins Must be more in the mine. Means what they saw in the bar last night was only a portion. Healthy little community here. Sheriff’s still up on the porch in his chair, sleepin’ slumped down with a bottle in his hooves. Bit of drool drips down onto his vest, mouth hangin’ open with a loud snore. Don’t even need to keep their hoof falls quiet as they trot up the steps. Damn stallion’s a motorboat. Passin’ through the double swing doors gives a whole different greetin’ than the night before. Heat’s all gone, smell of soap instead of whiskey. Chairs and stools are all empty, the only other soul in the room Tab the barkeep. She wipes down the counter with a scrap of cloth, hummin’ a homey toon. Perks up as she notices ‘em, chestnut mane bouncin’ as she gives ‘em a friendly nod. “Howdy strangers. Thought there was a chance ya’ll would sleep out around here and come trottin’ back in the mornin’. Ya both look sharp yerselves and sharp ponies know ya don’t go trottin’ the Palomino at night unless ya wanna be a dunestalker’s dinner.” She stows the cloth away, rises back up to greet them. “Now what can ah get ya both?” He takes off the saddlebags, unlatches the two canteens, puts ‘em up on the counter. “Lookin’ for a refuel for these two canteens. Some food if ya got it to spare. Some info too.” “Got those first two comin’ right up,” Tab sings, takin’ the canteens. “We can chit chat a while after ah have ya both ready.” Tab starts her work, hummin’ and movin’ about behind the counter. Watch her for a while before leanin’ in, whisperin’ to Snake Eyes. “Suppose ya know all about the road to New Pegasus?” Snake Eyes bristles up, whispers under his breath. “No. Why would I?” He narrows his eyes at the stallion. “Yer tellin’ me ya trot all the way out here and don’t remember a thing about yer way back?” “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Snake hisses, squintin’ back. “What do you think I did as I was fleeing for my life? Took a tour of the desert?” Snake scowls, scoffin’. “Forgive me if I didn’t leave a trail of crumbs along the way.” Dear Celestia. This stallion. Find out next he’ll need help takin’ a piss too. He lets out a deep breath, goes back to watchin’ Tab. Tab disappears into one of the backrooms. Returns with their canteens and a simple crate filled to the brim with all sorts of canned and wrapped foods. She pushes ‘em across the counter, motionin’ with her hoof for them to dig in. “The wrapped goods are one cap and the canned goods are two. Take yer time and let me know when ya picked out what ya need.” He trots up to the crate, starts rummagin’ through the selection. Decent from what he can see. Worst thing in there are the plain old granola bars Plenty of canned goods, most likely fished out of some old pre-war shop. That'll do. He puts three cans out onto the counter. Gives him eight. Only four days of travel. Better take another two, make it ten. Quick second to count ‘em all out and Tab smiles back at ‘em. “Five cans and three wraps? That’ll be thirteen caps.” Opens his pouch, tosses thirteen up onto the counter. “And for the info?” Tab shakes her head. “Day ya need to pay for a friendly chat is the day ah close down mah bar. What’s on yer mind stranger?” Fair reasonin’. “‘Spose the first thing ah need to know is the road to New Pegasus. Any idea on the fastest trot there?” Tab’s smile shrinks, eyes turnin’ sad. “Ah stranger, yer askin’ the wrong mare for that sorta question. Doubt anypony else out in the mines can help ya either. Only thing us minin’ ponies know about New Pegasus is that it’s a big ol’ city ya eventually run into trottin’ west. Ah can tell ya where to find a pony who can tell ya somethin’ though.” She points a hoof to the same hallway he’d escaped through the night before. “Likely ya didn’t see it last night, but there’s an old dusty trail out back that heads west. Now unless she’s rocketed off already, ya should find a mare and her caravan gettin’ ready to take that trail back to Goldroot within the hour. Bein’ from Goldroot herself, she should be able to fill you in a bit more than ah did or at least help ya along the way to the town.” “And I assume this ‘Goldroot’ is... ‘civilized’?” Snake Eyes asks, venom tippin’ his words. “We both certainly received quite the welcome from your friends upon both our arrivals here.” Just enough venom that Tab doesn’t seem to catch on. She chuckles, shakes her head. “Don’t be so hard on these colts and fillies, stranger, they ain’t ever shot a pony in their life. That said, most things those folks over in Goldroot have ever pulled a gun are is the wildlife, and even then that’s only when they get attacked.” She chuckles a bit again, lettin’ it die out. “Tell ya what, soon as ya talk to those ponies out back, let ‘em know Tab sent ya. That’ll get ya on their good side right quick.” “Thank ya kindly,” he says, tippin’ his hat. Gotta balance out Snake Eyes with some good ol’ fashioned courtesy. “Only one more question for ya. Colt that exploded on me yesterday mentioned that some other pegasi and ah’ll assume a griffon dropped by here some time ago. Heard anything about that?” Tab’s eyes widen, noddin’ as she leans into the counter. “Been hearin’ about it fer for the past few days now. ‘Hearin’s’ the key word. Wasn’t there mahself when it happened.” She pauses a moment, tappin’ her chin. “Uh... let’s see... believe ah was told they came in durin’ the night, lot like ya’ll did. Four of ‘em. A griffon and three stackers...” Four. Shootout back at the hill had eight. Ahh, the package. Must have had four keepin’ it out in the dark, guardin’ it while the others grabbed a drink. “... folks say they came in like anypony else would. Ordered some drinks from Whimsy, other bartender who takes mah days off... drank for a bit... then they started talkin’. Got everypony riled up.” “Give me anything ya heard.” She nods, eyes searchin’ the counter. “Accordin' to Whimsy they started out with her and the tables near the bar.” She points to the table his colt sat at last night and table behind them. “Told everypony they were a part of some group of ponies out east. Called ‘emselves the ‘Steel Dawn’ or somethin’ fancy like that.” Name brings up a thousand images in his mind. Most of blood. Some of cold steel. Almost as if he’s there again. Recent ones are the easiest to see. Four young ponies, sleepin’ on the slope of a lone hill out in the badlands of the Palomino... “Ya alright there stranger?” Blink and it all fades away. Tab and Snake Eyes are both starin’ at him, brows raised into curious expressions. Goes to speak but his jaw is clenched. Legs locked up. Whole body is tense. Shakes himself, lettin’ out a long breath. “Ah’m fine. Go on.” She watches him a moment before continuin’. “Right. Let’s see... somewhere around there is when everypony else in the bar started gatherin’ round. Next ah heard they was talkin’ ‘bout some war off to the east, between them and some other ponies... ‘Equestrian Republic’ is what the miners have been mutterin’ since then. Assume they’re your folks judgin’ by last night?” Gives her a simple tip of the head. Doesn’t need to be anything more. “Well Whimsy left around then on account of there bein’ a chance of a fight, but let me tell ya, whatever those stackers said about yer folks got ‘em all riled up. Been mutterin’ and cursin’ about it for three days straight now.” She backs off the counter, throwin’ a hoof into the air. “Me? Ah ain’t one to throw away common courtesy on the hooves of some other stranger’s words. ‘Specially if they were most likely drunk while they was squawkin’.” She waves a hoof out in the direction of the mines. “And don’t ya worry about them. All of this junk is just the miners finally gettin’ their hooves on some made up gossip. As long as yer folks keep to their work and leave us to ours, ah’m sure we’ll all get along just fine.” Have to hold back a grimace. If only the world worked that way, darlin’. Tab carries on for him, puts a hoof to her chest and takes several deep breaths. “Whew! That was more than even ah’m used to. Sorry ah wasn’t too much help on those Steel Dawn folk. Ah’m sure if ya wanted more of a story on ‘em ya could go out down the ways a bit and ask the miners there. Might still give ya a bit of hell though.” Snake Eyes coughs, turnin’ his nose up. “I’m quite certain we aren’t that desperate.” Venomous as it sounds, can’t disagree. “What ya told me so far will do. Want to thank ya for all the help ya’ve given. For last night, too.” Tab smiles at ‘em both, shruggin’. “Like ah said before. Stranger or not, it’s always good to carry about a bit of respect for your fellow ponies.” She pulls the crate and caps back across the counter, pushin’ over their canteens and food. “Now don’t forget yer goods, don’t forget the trail and the caravan is right out back, and don’t forget to tell the caravan ah sent ya as well. They’re already friendly folk, but it never hurts to carry a good word with ya.” He tips his hat to her one last time. “Ah’ll keep it in mind. Thank ya kindly.” “Ain’t a thing stranger.” Tab takes the crate onto her back and drags the caps behind the counter. Turnin’ to leave through one of the back doors, she waves ‘em a hoof. “Good luck, and happy trails!” She disappears into the backrooms, leavin’ him and Snake Eyes alone. Mind’s swimmin’ right about now. Never been a curious stallion. Also never been a naive one. Steel Dawn’s movin’ about the Palomino, ferryin’ around suspicious packages. Guess the only good news is that if Snake Eyes is to be believed, chances are they haven’t had an easy time gettin’ into New Pegasus either. “Steel Dawn...” Name slides out, hissed between clenched teeth. Look over to see Snake Eyes gazin’ at him with a coy expression, muzzle turned up into a serpent’s smile. “Seems the name lights a fire in you. Would I be correct in presuming that you and this faction have a... ‘history’ together?” History. Suppose so. Another landmark on a long and broken road. He turns back to the counter, begins to load the rations and Snack Cakes into his saddlebags. “Ain’t anything of yer concern,” he grunts. Snake rolls his eyes, sneerin’ as he looks away. Thankfully keeps his mouth shut. He focuses on loadin’ the supplies into the saddlebags. End up fittin’ three cans layin’ em down sideways atop the five he had. Last two go down snugly into two large pockets under the fold over. Latch the canteens to the outside and its done. Oof. Saddlebags are just about full. Spine lets him know that good. Used to be that he could ferry two of these things stuffed to the brim with guns and rations. Time changes things. Snake follows behind as he heads out through the hallway. Still just as lonely as before. Sunlight pourin’ in from the end door doesn’t make it any less ominous than the lantern light did. Trot down it. Open the door. Step outside. Not the same greetin’. Different in every way. Wind was eager to bring ‘em the desert’s chill, yet jumps town when the sun rises. Leaves a stale heat, makin’ every breath as if through a large straw. Full daytime as well. Dirt and rocks and shrubs seem to shoot back the sunlight, creatin’ a hazy white sheen over the desert’s sand. Can see the road Tab told ‘em about a bit down the slope, caravan ruts and hoof marks turnin’ it a darker shade than the untrodden earth around it. Now where the hay is that caravan? “Well aren’t ya’ll two just the darndest things that have ever trot out of the Buckham bar!” Voice comes from over his shoulder, squealed out by a mare in the distance with shimmerin' pink eyes, a bright yellow mane, and a rich green coat that could fit right in beside any of the Palomino’s many cacti. Her mark, suitably enough, is a bright pink and violet cactus flower that buds bombastically from her flank. While she stares over at ‘em smilin’, six other ponies are suitin’ up for the road: another mare standin' beside her, a stallion and a mare checkin’ their bags and guns a bit farther back, and three stallions hookin’ ‘emselves up to enormous emptied carts. Really should start checkin’ his five and seven from now on when leavin’ a buildin’. “Don’t ya’ll just stand there!” the mare shouts, beckonin’ ‘em over with her hoof. “We don’t bite, promise!” Snake Eyes’ lets out a light groan, lookin’ from the mare to him. “Perhaps it’s best if we go this one alone, yes?” “Might have agreed if ya had half a mind about the road,” he says, startin’ to trot. “But bein’ as neither of us do, ah’d feel a might wiser travelin’ with somepony who does, Come on.” “Ugh...” Snake Eyes scowls, begrudgingly followin; behind. Mare and her caravan’s about a good fifty yards off, a slight blur in the desert haze. Gettin’ closer, can see the mare and two of the other three ponies off the carts have double barreled shotguns for iron. The sole exception is the mare standin' beside the squealer, who's seemed to have opted for a lever-action shotgun instead. She's the complete opposite of the bouncin' mare at her side, from her inverse yellow coat and green mane to her relaxed posture and calm eyes. She has a cactus rose for a mark as well, albeit dark red as opposed to her partner's pink. He tips his hat to 'em all as he and Snake get another twenty closer. “Howdy there folks." The squealer doesn’t waste any time, shootin’ her hoof out like a rocket and grinnin; to ‘em both. “Howdy yerself! Names Prickly! This here is mah sister Pokey!" The tranquil mare at her side waves nonchalantly to 'em before turnin' back away, lookin' off in the distance. Prickly turns back to them excitedly. "What ya two go by?” He accepts the hoofshake, tryin’ to keep his eyes kind as he shakes his head. “Apologies ma’am, but ‘friendly strangers’ is all we can part with ya.” “Strangers!?” Says it as if its the darndest thing she’s heard. Quickly smiles again, even wider than before. “Well that makes this all the more fun! Ain’t often we get strangers around these parts, much less a stacker and a city-slicker!!” She does a half-turn, lettin’ out a sharp whistle to the others. “Ya’ll unhitch yerselves and get yer flanks up here! Makin’ the strangers uncomfortable with all yer standin’ around!” The whole party begins to move behind her. The other two gun toters come up first, both unicorns. Mare names herself Dust Crops, the stallion Dust Bowl. Don’t ask if their related. Caravan pullers come up next, just as friendly, if not a bit more quiet. Anvil, Bursage, and Big Iron. After greetin’ him they shuffle on over to Snake Eyes. City stallion does his best to keep the greetin’s short, wearin’ an annoyed expression as the bigger ponies happily force him into a hoofshake. Pokey stops by last, givin' him the same firm hoofshake as her sister, leadin' up with a drawled out, "Howdy. Always good to have some extra hooves on board, both for the company and the desert itself. Never know what can happen along the road." She leaves him with that ominous warnin' and moves on to Snake Eyes, repeatin' much the same thing. “Hoowee!” Prickly cheers, liftin’ her stetson and wipin’ her brow, grinnin’ at him. “Like ah said, don’t get too many visitors around here, ‘specially a pair unique as ya’ll. Might ah ask what brings ya round these parts? Aside from the fresh air and desert beauty of course.” Can see Snake Eyes lean in from the edge of his view, ear flickin’. He tips his head, gives her an apologetic smile. “Have to forgive me again, but the business is a stranger too.” Snake Eyes sinks back, rollin’ his eyes. “Oooooo. Well aren’t you just the mysterious one!” Prickly chides. “But don’t ya worry none strangers. Ah know ah may seem a bit exciteful, but ah ain’t one to go pryin’ into anyponies business.” “‘Preciate it. Might be a bit backwards of me to ask after that, but is yer caravan headin’ out to a town named Goldroot?” “Sure are!” Prickly’s eyes suddenly light up like a cactus flower. “Oh! Ya’ll lookin’ for some company along the way? Road ain’t too dangerous, but its always good to have somepony watchin’ yer back.” Hm. Didn’t even have to ask. “And I’ll assume you’ll be wanting some caps...?” Snake Eyes asks, his tone almost answerin’ the question itself. Pokey loses her peaceful state, starin' back at 'em lazily as if they're crazy. “Caps!?” Prickly yelps, her smile droppin’. She gapes at the both of ‘em, her mouth hangin’ open and her brows furrowed. “What do ya’ll both take me for, a swindler? Only one thing ah need for a companion to come aboard and that’s a good ol’ fashioned hoofshake.” She fires out her hoof a second time. “Put ‘er there partners!” And for a second time he accepts it, bowin’ his head. “Mighty kind of ya’ll. ‘Preciate it.” “Ain’t a thing!” Prickly lets go of his hoof, holdin’ hers out to Snake Eyes. “Yer turn now city slicker. No need to be shy!” Snake Eyes seems to consider it a moment before reluctantly takin’ Prickly’s hoof, sighin’. “You ponies have such a fascinating addiction to hoofshakes.” “Don’t see why anypony wouldn’t,” Prickly says, still shakin’. “If ya wanna seal a deal its fast, easy, and best of all, dirt cheap!” “Two words I’m certain you’re quite accustomed to,” Snake hisses, pullin’ his hoof back and wipin’ it against his other leg. Sun’s been workin’ its way up over the bar all the while, the mornin’ light creepin’ onto the rest of the caravan. Slow but steady it swallows up the shade, slitherin’ their direction. Its just as Prickly starts to pull back as well that the light breaks right into her eyes, makin’ her curse as she throws a hoof up to her eyes. “Darnit! Sun’s on the move already huh?” She turns away, brings her hoof up her muzzle and lets out another sharp whistle. “Alrighty ya’ll, do yer final checkups and then we’re headin’ out! Remember to get them carts tight!” She looks back over her shoulder and waves ‘em along. “If ya’ll are ready over there, we can start workin’ our way down to the trail. Ah love to talk just as much as the next pony, but we got plenty of time for that along the road.” He and Snake Eyes both watch her start to trot off. He narrows his eyes at Snake, noddin’ over to Prickly. “Ya knew about this caravan the night before?” “Yes, in fact, I did, after my ‘warm’ greeting to the bar,” Snake Eyes sneers, still watchin’ Prickly. “But they aren’t traveling the full distance to New Pegasus. Also, I just so happen to possess a trait most ponies lack these days.” “And don’t ya’ll worry ‘bout fallin’ behind,” Prickly calls back. “We keep a nice and steady pace. Even a city slicker and a grounded stacker shouldn’t have a problem keepin’ along, no offense of course! Haw!” The sneer widens as he looks from the mare to him, hissin’ through clenched teeth. “Standards.” ---------------------- Footnote: Maximum level reached Status: Normal New trait added: Native’s Knowledge “Always good to travel with a pony who knows the lay of the land, even if she happens to be a few apples short of a full bushel.” While in this caravan’s company, all party members receive +10 to survival while within the Palomino.