//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: Fallout: Equestria: There And Back Again 
// by Inkwell_the_writer_horse 
//------------------------------//

This journal is the property of sergeant major Duster Brown, if found please return to nearest New Canterlot Republic millitary outpost. 

Update on my mission to retrieve the smuggler and the convict. The convict, a former raider, Grave Digger was pacified with a single bullet to the cranium, after attempting to assult an NCR ranger. Though I cannot confirm this, I assume he died instantly. The smuggler, former citizen, Shot Glass surrendered himself, claiming to have information on a raider outpost close to the NCR capital, that could cause a problem for the NCR in the future. Will update if any further complications endanger the objective.

I finished typing on the small, hoof mounted terminal, the status report a fine piece of misdirection for the brass. I heard that insufferable twit behind me.

"What's that? Is that a pip-buck? Where you a stable dweller?"

I remove the chain from my battle saddle and latch it around on old streetlight, with a blown out bulb and a leaning at an obtuse angle.

"What's this? Why we stopped?"

Again the incesent whining, If I were a lesser pony I would've cut out his tongue by now.

"It's getting dark, we set up camp here."

"Where we're wide open? No, I don't think so, we could burrow under these rocks and make-"

"No, where you are wide open, I'm latching you to this post and then I'm making camp atop this small cliff." 

"Ya can't just leave me down here, that's suicide!"

I begin to climb the small rock face, grunting as I feel the full weight of the battle saddle pull me down. I look down at Shot Glass, staring at him as I speak clearly.

"If I say i'm going to bring back a prisoner alive, I'm going to bring them back alive."

I removed the small saddle bag from beneath my coat, after retreating farther back atop the small cliff. I removed a small modular rifle and placed it at the cliffs edge, overlooking the prisoner. I lay there, awake the entire night, the night scope on my rifle seeming to bathe the wastes in an unnatural green light. I was happy to find no raiders coming after us, just bloatsprites and the occasional wild dog. The muffled thwips of the rifle didn't disturb the prisoners slumber,and he awoke to a massacre of wild animals, or, as he called it, breakfast. 

I prepared myself a small cocktail of drugs, water and radroach juices, it was a concoction I'd used for years to keep me awake and alert on assignments. I stowed my rifle and found the prisoner at the base of my hill-top hide-away, next to a cooking fire.

"Where'd that come from?"

I asked whilst sliding down the short rock face. He replied with a mouth full of cooked bloatsprite.

"Oh, this old thing? You'd be suprised what I can scrounge together from some sticks and stones."

He gave a smile, revealing his full set of dull white teeth, and a small chunk of meat between said teeth.

"You have a little something..."

I trailed off, waving my hoof around the area my mouth would be beneath the mask. He swallowed his food and replied.

"What? Something in my rebreather?"

Smart ass.

I walk past him, to the street light, and latch his chain onto my battle saddle.

"Seriously? This again?"

He thinks we're friends, that I trust him, I set him straight.

"We are not friends, you are my prisoner, and you will be treated as such."

"Not even gonna have some breakfast?"

He presents me with a large chunk of cooked bloatsprite meat, large, juicy, succulent meat. I knock out of his hoof and turn away, begining towards Trottingham.

"Leave it for the manticores."

His ears drop and his eyes widen in fear.

"M-manticores?"

"Oh yea, didn't you know? There's a nest about three clicks north, wanna go meet some?"

He sprints towards, quickly halting before slamming into my back side. 

"Y'know I would, but I wouldn't wanna waste an NCR rangers precious time."

Figures.

As we continue along the broken and cracked road I check my hoof mounted terminal, checking how far we were from Trottingham. Again, the prisoner displayed a piqued interest in the simple gadget.

"Y'know, ya never told me what that thing was."

"Your point?"

"Well, aren't you gonna tell me?"

"Why would I, it's a hunk of metal strapped to my hoof, what more do you want to know?"

"What does it do? Where did you get it? If it was just hollow metal I doubt you'd keep staring at it like it ghoul in its undies."

I stopped and stared to him over his last remark.

"Okay, sorry poor choice of words."

I looked ahead, and continued on at a steady pace.

"So come on, what is it?"

"It's a terminal, a hoof mounted terminal. Designed by Stable-Tec towards the end of the war and built by a stable born scientist who worked for the rangers before we merged with the NCR. It has a text writing program, a map and is permanantley logged onto the NCRs primary maneframe. They've been passed down to veteran rangers when they go out on scout assignments. There, now are you happy?" 

He looked off in another directon.

"I guess."

I noticed him squint and lean his forward as he began focus on something in the distance.

"What are you looking at?"

He lowered his voice and spoke in an even tone.

"There's a band of raiders hiding in that building up there. I don't think they've spotted us but jus-"

And that's when the shooting began. The prisoner took a shot to the neck, falling to the floor, lifeless. I dragged his heavy husk of a body behind a half destroyed wall. I was out gunned, and with a dying prisoner, but I've been in tighter spots, okay, bring it on. I loaded my revolver and prepared for hell.