Chapter 6
Then we were bowing our heads as rain began the first stage of its journey. It began as a light spit but very quickly turned itself into a downpour to end all downpours. Rain hammered down on my hat, beating my head like an abusive parent and soaking me through to the skin. I was cold, wet, tired and generally quite miserable. The only positive thing I could find in my situation was the fact that the Scavengers were likely a little less willing to go hunting for us in the pouring rain. They were likely tucked away in shelters or keeping warm and dry and generally doing the smart thing and avoiding the rain.
The terrain left a lot to be desired. The ground beneath our hooves quickly turned to mud and there was little cover save from a few trees. What little foliage there was was jagged or covered in some sort of pointy appendage that made them less than appealing for shelter. Wraith and I had only been walking for a few hours but I was beginning to get very tired of the activity. On top of a small rise I spied a small (and relatively run down) shack and pointed this out to Wraith. If anything it would give us some shelter from the rain and the increasingly powerful wind. He agreed but suggested we go in ready for a fight as with such little shelter, the Scavengers had likely already occupied it.
We made our way towards it, Wraith hanging back slightly and aiming his (now fully loaded) rifle at the only window that faced us. There didn’t appear to by anypony inside and I stood myself by the door, pistol at the ready gripped in my magic. I’d realised that it would be much more efficient if I fired the weapon this way where possible, leaving my hooves free for activities such as running or hitting ponies in the face. Wraith joined me, standing on the other side of the door. I took a deep breath and watched carefully as Wraith silently counted down from three… two… one.
As he reached the final count he turned and barged into the door, shoulder first, bringing his rifle to bear. I swung in after him pointing my pistol into the room but relying on Wraith to pull the shots. The hut (which was composed of a single room) was completely void of pony life, save for me and Wraith of course. I slid my pistol back into its holster and surveyed the interior. There was a round table at near enough the centre and two chairs, one of which was over turned. There was an oven which I doubted still worked and a fridge, which I likewise doubted the functionality of and dreaded opening for fear of the stench of rotten food. There was also a cupboard above the work surface and a steel safe which looked firmly shut. Wraith slung his rifle back over his back.
I shut the door to keep out the wind and sat myself down at the table, “So what do we do now?”
“We can’t wait this storm out for long or the Scavengers will find us. I suggest we spend the night, then get on the move again.” I nodded in agreement. Until then I’d do my best to try and relax. The first thing I did was turn my attention to the steel safe. I wasn’t a master locksmith and lockpicking wasn’t really my talent, but I did have a little experience with the art from my thieving days. I asked Wraith is he had a bobby pin on him and instead he handed me a set of keys, “It’s probably one of these.”
“Where did you get them?”
“They were on top of the safe.” I blushed with embarrassment and began the process of finding the correct key. It was the sixth one along out of a total of six. With a sigh I twisted the key in the lock and heard a satisfying click as the deadbolt slid out of place. I pulled back on the keys, forcing the door to swing open and reveal the safe’s contents.
Inside the rather gloomy safe was a small pistol (which was a different shape to any I’d seen before) and what looked like a bag of bullets. I took the pistol and the bag of rounds and showed them to Wraith. He cocked back the pistol to check if there were any rounds left in the chamber before declaring, “It’s a HK USP, chambered in the same size as your Glock. I’m assuming those rounds are 9mm. Let me see them,” he emptied the rounds out onto the table. They looked a little weird, with the tips of the bullets bent inwards. Wraith smiled, “Hollow point ammunition. Load that up into your pistol and it’s going to wreak some havoc.” I scooped up the bullets in one hoof. Wraith proceeded to show me how to load, of ‘bomb’, magazines with rounds and soon I had a magazine of eight hollow point rounds ready to go and another seven in back up. I put the clip in one of my magazine pouches and tipped the rest of the loose rounds into a compartment in my saddlebags for later use.
Well with the thrill of the safe over I decided to see what I could find in the cupboard. There wasn’t a lot in there. However, I was overjoyed to find an (unopened) jar of marmalade, which I hastily tucked into my saddlebags underneath Wraith’s uniform. That was the point where I removed his uniform and threw it over his head, “I don’t need to carry this anymore.” He didn’t answer with words and simply slipped the khaki tunic over his head and straightened the brassard. There was nothing else in the cupboard worth looting so I peeked into the oven, which was empty. I refrained from opening the fridge for aforementioned reasons.
There was only one window in the entire hut, which provided what would, under normal circumstances, have been quite a nice view. There were two door, one which we’d come through and one which I assumed led to the back garden. I was correct, and as I opened the door what felt like a bucket’s worth of water tipped onto my head, causing my hat to droop down over my eyes. Severely unamused, I glanced up to see what had soaked me further. It was a drain pipe which had broken from all of the rain water collecting in it. I snorted in derision. The back garden was fenced off from the rest of the terrain and had a gate mounted in it towards the far end. There was also a very large water tank in one corner with a less equally large wooden tub positioned underneath a tap. I twisted the tap experimentally and a stream of water flowed into the already full tub. I stuck my tongue out to taste the water from the tap. It tasted clean and relatively fresh. That was good; we had a source of clean water. I twisted the tap again to turn it off so as not to waste anymore of the water, then returned to the comforts of the indoors.
To my vague dismay, Wraith had opened the fridge door. To my vague disappointment, there were no freshly severed heads or other body parts which would indicate that the Scavengers had been through the area recently. Instead there was just a pony’s skull, so either the Scavengers hadn’t been here in a while or they’d just sheared the head of all its meat. That’s kind of why I’d have preferred to find somepony’s head; then there would be no doubt in my mind that the Scavenger’s frequented this place. Wraith sniffed, “Nice.”
“Hey, these are your comrades here.”
“That’s not why I joined the Scavengers.”
“Well, you fly with the crows you can expect to be shot at.” Wraith nodded.
I spent the rest of the afternoon on edge, expecting to see Scavengers every time I looked out the window. It confused me a little though. Why would somepony want to live out here, far from any form of civilisation? I mean, the only reason the LRSA compound was there was because the Scavengers infested the area like ants infest sugar water and the city of Refuge was a Wanderer city established after the revolution. The nearest major city to us was probably either Manehattan or Fillydelphia, but both were some way off. It didn’t look like a farming district, so maybe they just liked their solitude? Well, the arrival of the Scavengers must have come as quite a surprise for the inhabitants of this little shack.
I occupied myself by searching the cabin top to bottom for extra supplies. All I found, though, were solemn reminders of a hard struggle. On one wall was a fairly large blood splatter that had dried over time, and on the floor nearby were several loose teeth. There were scrapes all along the walls, holes in the table and floor and spent shell casings around both doors. I looked carefully at the safe. I noticed that on the floor near were I’d found it was a large scrape as if somepony had dropped it and tried moving it. The safe itself was stained with dried blood on one side and only now did I notice the bloody meat cleaver on the work surface. The surface itself was so heavily stained with blood that the material beneath was almost unrecognisable (some form of granite which was polished smooth). I picked up the cleaver and tested the edge with my hoof. The edge was rather blunt. It must have been a slow and painful death.
Above the work surface, in the wooden walls, I found some marks. They looked like etchings made with a chisel and I soon discerned names. There was ‘Thunder’, then ‘Carbine’, then ‘Tsunami’ but the clearest of all (and also the biggest) was ‘Splinter’. I showed Wraith, “Grim, huh?” Wraith failed to reply. He simply stared at the last name on the list. “What? Is something wrong?”
“That,” he said, pointing his hoof at the final etching. “Is an evil beast.” He was almost shaking, as if in fear. He clapped a hoof to his forehead and sat back down at the table, a look of pain twisting his face. Concern immediately dominated mine and I quickly asked him what was wrong. He waved a hoof at me, “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Bad memories. I’m fine.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with,” I waved my hoof around generally. “This? Did you?”
“Lord no, but I don’t like seeing that last name. Leave me alone. I’m fine.” I tried to assist further but Wraith insisted that I just ignore him (several times) so I eventually gave up. I stared at the name. It didn’t strike any chords with me. To me it was just a well carved memoir of the horrible pony who’d performed this awful deed. Still, I added it to memory. Maybe someday it would become useful. I added all the other names to my repertoire as well, extending the list of ponies that I wanted revenge on. If I wasn’t careful I would be putting half of Equestria to death.
I would have enjoyed watching the sunset, but the rain and cloud made it impossible to see the sun at all, so one moment I was in daylight, then the next it had gone dark. Wraith dug around in the garden (not literally) until he uncovered a lamp in an old chest that had been tucked up against the exterior wall. After some serious effort we managed to get it lit. It was hard to do without any matches, but Wraith found a small cigarette lighter discarded and buried in the grass outside, so we used what little fuel was left in that to light the lamp. I huddled close to it, not really for warmth but because I felt a lot safer nearer to the light. I ate an apple that I had left over from my time with the Wanderers just to tide me over until I could come across a more substantial meal and drank from my canteen. I wasn’t massively worried about using too much water, as the tank outside had more than enough water to refill both of our canteens several times over.
The night was quite thick, as was the rain, and it was hard to see very far in any direction. However, around midnight, Wraith blew out the lamp and ducked down in cover. He quickly whispered, “I can see lights. Probably benign, but I’m not taking the chance. I glanced out the window. Sure enough, four lights could be seen slicing through the darkness, like the beams from a torch. I couldn’t discern whom they belonged to, but they were definitely moving and heading in our direction. I told Wraith this and he swore under his breath. He cocked his rifle to check if it was loaded, then proceeded to actually load it. I slid my clip of hollow points into my pistol, ready to start shooting should hell break loose.
Wraith and I waited with held breath for a few minutes. I could feel the grip of my pistol beginning to get slippery as I sweated with fear. I hated fighting Scavengers. The only time I had come anywhere close to it, I’d been captured and taken as a slave. I wasn’t too eager to repeat that, especially not with this lot who appeared to be a lot more violent than the Scavengers that had invaded my home. I could hear voices over the sound of heavy rain. One of them was definitely feminine. I heard her say something, then receive a reply from what sounded like a stallion. The two others didn’t do much talking so I couldn’t tell much about them. I hoped they were friendlies.
The voices got louder and louder until I could hear them on the opposite side of the wall. I heard the mare say, “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” before the front door was opened. The mare stepped in and shone her torch around. From what I could discern, she had a pastel green coat and a more minty coloured mane. Her mane was swept back and it made her look like she’d flown through a wind tunnel (which she hadn’t, she was a unicorn) and on her head slanted at a jaunty angle was a garrison cap. My heart sank when I saw the unmistakable khaki tunic. It was soaking wet and clung tightly to her body. Her cutie mark was a toothbrush. In her hooves she clutched a sizeable assault rifle with the torch attached to a rail on the side. Underneath the weapon on a separate rail was a long tube with a trigger system of its own. The weapon was rather intimidating. She shone the torch over the work surface, then over the open safe. She frowned and cocked her assault rifle. She shone the torch over the table, spotting the still smoking lamp. She called over, “Hey guys, I think somepony’s been here.”
I would have silently cursed if my throat wasn’t constricted with fear. Wraith put a hoof over his eyes as the Scavenger shone her torch over his face. The Scavenger called back, “T’sokay guys! It’s just another one of us.” As soon as she’d finished talking I stood up, lined up my sights and fired off a single round at the mare’s head. I recoiled in surprise as her face exploded, a massive hole appearing in her head where once her eyes, muzzle and general facial features had been. She stumbled backwards and hit the wall, sliding down it and leaving a thick trail of fresh, blackish red blood in her wake. These hollow points were horrific.
I heard a loud yell of, “SHIT!” and readied myself to make another shot. Something was thrown through the window. It appeared to be a long metal tube covered in holes. I looked suspiciously at it and then was forced to cover my eyes as it emitted a violent flash of white light. I stumbled backwards, my vision completely shot and my ears ringing. I heard another gunshot and then the cocking of a rifle. I franticly and furiously rubbed my eyes in an attempt to restore my vision. I was entering a blind panic. Ha, blind panic! I just got that! I was scared that I’d been permanently blinded, but slowly my vision returned to me. I managed to make out the corpse of another Scavenger on the floor at the hooves of the first one, this time a stallion, his shotgun lying at my hooves. I picked it up. The device was unfamiliar to me. None of the NSA guards had ever wielded a shotgun so I had no idea how to properly operate it. Still, it had a trigger so I assumed that it worked in a similar way to my pistol.
The back door flew open and a very large and aggressive Raider-in-Training stepped through the door, a foreboding looking hatchet in his hooves. He made an attempt to swing at me but before he could hit me I brought the shotgun to bear on his torso. I pulled the trigger and the weapon jarred against my hooves. The recoil was significantly higher than on my pistol but I fought to keep control. The loud bang that the shotgun made was quite satisfying, and I saw the Scavenger’s chest cavity implode as the force of the shell shattered his ribcage and sternum, sending bone fragments into his internal organs and spattering blood and organ parts over the floor behind him. He fell backwards and there was another splash of blood. If I thought my hollow points were gruesome, then I’d evidently never seen the destructive force of a shotgun up close.
There was a brief calm when all I could hear was my own heavy breathing and the rain hammering down on all sides. Three down. There was still one left. I flung myself out of the back door and swung my new shotgun around, the torch underneath the barrel illuminating the garden. The Scavenger was nowhere to be seen. Then a spray of bullets hit the wall inches from me and I ducked in cover. The final Scavenger was hiding behind the water tank. I counted to three before running out and ducking behind the other side of the tank. I knew the Scavenger was just on the other side and he knew I was too. I wanted to get out before he did, so I hurtled around the side of the tank and pointed the shotgun at the Scavenger’s head. I pulled on the trigger. He put a hoof in front of his face to block the shot. Nothing happened. The shotgun just clicked as I pulled the trigger. The Scavenger realised that his head was still intact and cast me a malicious grin.
I stumbled backwards as the Scavenger pulled out a large knife, the blade viciously serrated on one side. I drew my kitchen knife. I wasn’t fantastic at hoof to hoof fighting but the shotgun had just decided to give up on me and I didn’t trust my pistol at the moment, not at such close range where he could easily disarm me and leave me open to attack. He made an arcing overhead swing which I dodged with ease, twisting to one side so that the blade sliced harmlessly through the air. I made a jab at his ribcage, intent on going up between two ribs and hitting his heart, but he made a small leap backwards to avoid my thrust. He started to plan a little more tactically, now aware of my ability to defend myself. He made a jab at my side but I suspected it to be a feint. I knocked the blade away with my hoof but kept my knife ready. I had suspected right and the stallion swung an aggressive hoof at my temple, expecting me to be distracted by his attack. I sliced at his oncoming hoof with the knife and heard the satisfying thud of metal hitting flesh. He yelped as the blade of my knife nicked at his skin, drawing blood.
The Scavenger growled and prepared for another attack. He lurched forwards. I stuck my knife out in front of me and felt him slide down its length. I peeked at the Scavenger. He’d impaled himself on my knife, the blade stabbing into his belly and blood seeping over my hooves. I screamed and pushed him off my knife. I looked down at his lifeless body. On closer examination I noticed a large hole through his head. I looked up. Wraith cocked his rifle as he stood in the doorway. I had been so deeply zoned in on my fight I hadn’t even heard the shot. I gave Wraith a nod of thanks and asked if he would help me drag the body inside. I wanted to do my looting in the dry.
After we had lined up all the bodies against a wall and shut all the doors we attempted to reignite the lamp. The fuel in our lighter died just before it caught and I quietly cursed. I rounded on the pony I’d been fighting in melee combat and dug a hoof into his tunic’s chest pocket. I found what I’d been hoping for, a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches. I struck a match and lit the lamp. I tucked the box into my saddlebags for use later, then prepared to toss the cigarettes out of the window. Wraith stopped me. I looked at him, puzzled, “You don’t smoke, do you?”
“No, but cigarettes are a valuable commodity amongst the Scavengers. They could be useful.” I nodded and put them in with the matches. With some light now on the subject I began to loot the bodies.
I started with the mare. I picked up her assault rifle and placed it on the table. Wraith picked it up, removed the magazine and cocked it before applying the safety catch. He held the rifle in his hooves, “One M16 assault rifle with underslung grenade launcher.”
“What?”
“This thing here,” he pointed at the tube with the individual trigger system. “Is a grenade launcher.” He pushed the tube forward and a thick slug like round fell out. “And one fragmentation grenade.”
“It doesn’t look like the grenade you showed me a while ago.”
“Just like not all rounds are the same, neither are all grenades.” I nodded. The world of firearms and explosives was more vast and diverse than I gave it credit for. This seemed to be a recurring theme with me. Wraith stood the grenade on the inert end and placed the empty assault rifle on the table, removing the torch as he did so and placing it to one side, “And a torch.” I checked the mare’s holster and found a pistol identical to mine. I grinned.
“One Glock.”
“One Glock 17,” Wraith corrected me. “There’s more than one type of Glock.”
“What’s mine?”
“A 17.”
I removed the magazine, cocked the pistol and re-bombed the round that was ejected. I placed the empty pistol and the magazine on the table. Wraith clicked on the safety catch. Wraith’s practical OCD over weapons was useful at times but annoying at others. I searched the rest of the Scavenger’s apparel and found three more clips for the Glock, two more for the assault rifle, one extra grenade, a hunting knife and a scrunched up piece of paper. I placed everything on the table but the paper, which I unravelled. I blushed hotly and quickly scrunched it back up, concealing it in my saddlebags. Wraith counted through all of the extra kit and then brushed it all to one side of the table, taking care not to knock over the grenades.
Then I turned to the pony that Wraith had shot whilst I was blinded. I placed his shotgun on the table. Wraith picked it up, “A Benelli M3, 12 gauge.”
“It’s not working.”
“What?”
“It’s not working anymore. I tried to shoot that last Scavenger with it but it just clicked.” Wraith said nothing and simply placed a hoof on the bottom of the barrel, pumping it back and expelling an empty shell from the chamber. The shell was large and a deep crimson with a brass base. It had burst at the top. Wraith smiled, “Did you try doing that?”
“No.”
“With most shotguns you need to pump this part here after every shot.” Wraith repeatedly pumped the shotgun until all the shells had shot from the side. He lined them up on the table next to the now empty shotgun. He declared that there were seven rounds left and I found another eight in the Scavenger’s chest pocket. The Scavenger lacked a pistol but instead had a small weapon that looked like a cross between an ice axe and a hatchet. I placed it on the table. Wraith smiled, “One tomahawk.”
The next Scavenger along was the Raider-in-Training. I placed his hatchet on the table and searched for a holster. I eventually found it and drew his pistol. It was very heavy and much larger than any pistol I’d seen before. I placed it on the table and Wraith gave a low whistle. He removed the magazine, ejected the remaining round and flicked on the safety, “One Desert Eagle.”
“So what’s that then?” I could see that the rounds that this thing was packing were a lot larger than any I’d seen. Whatever it was it was powerful.
“Fifty calibre heavy pistol. If you get shot by one of these then it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing or what you’re hiding behind. Let’s hope they don’t have too many of these things.” The officer also had a set of binoculars, a torch, a packet of cigarettes (pocketed) and a stick of chewing gum (devoured).
Finally I turned on my late nemesis. I placed his knife on the table. Wraith laughed, “One kayaking knife.” I looked for a pistol and found none. I put his primary weapon on the table. It was the same as the one I’d seen Tenner using back at the Wanderer village. Wraith did all the usual safety checks, then declared, “One Skorpian submachine gun.” Also on the Scavenger was a glowstick (for some reason) and a small pistol that looked too weak to do any damage. I found three spare rounds for it and showed it to Wraith. He identified it as a flare gun, then proceeded to ask, “You didn’t see any flares go up, did you?”
“No, why?”
“With such a large territory sector it’s likely that these Scavengers use flares to communicate quickly.” That made sense. In rain like this a radio would have been all but useless and waving flags around was inefficient at the best of times.
Wraith and I were both impressed by our haul, and I decided to take the large pistol with me, tucking it into my saddlebags. I also took the tomahawk to replace my kitchen knife (after the bloody Germans had confiscated my bayonet) but I left all of the heavy weapons. I also took as much of the ammunition as I could in case I ever needed it. Wraith took very little (actually I don’t think he took anything) and all that we didn’t bring we tried to fit into the safe. We got all the pistols in there as well as some miscellaneous items but the heavier weapons we had to hide underneath the floor boards. Now in the event of having to return here we would be much better equipped. We locked the safe and Wraith put the keys with the heavy weapons. He said that if they were going to get captured he didn’t want the Scavengers getting hold of the keys. I silently wondered what the other five keys were for, but not for long. Such things fail to interest me most of the time.
We decided then that sentries would be needed. I offered for first shift, which Wraith accepted, falling asleep in the chair. I spent most of my shift on the other chair, gazing blankly out of the window. When it was quite apparent to me that nothing was going to happen I committed the cardinal sin of sentries and left my post. I stood up from my chair and yawned. I was looking forward to when Wraith took over from me. I gazed at him, sleeping on the chair with his right foreleg hanging at his side, his left resting on his chest. I took a sniff of his mane. To my surprise it smelt vaguely like charcoal. I turned back to my post with a defiant look. I shouldn’t be taking every sentry job as an opportunity to visually molest Wraith. I resumed my seat at my sentry post, gazing out of the window, staring at the rain but thinking of Wraith. My mind wandered and I immediately lassoed it in again. From what I’d recently seen I didn’t want my emotions to have free reign over my mind. I woke Wraith up a few minutes later so he could begin his shift. I sat on the chair and put my hat down over my face, closing my eyes and falling into a very welcome sleep.
I expected to wake in the morning to some sunshine, the storm having broken. I expected the grass to still be soaked and the sweet smell of a storm gone by but no. When I woke the storm was still raging and now some thunder had been thrown into the mix. I heard a loud boom from quite a long way away, but still, I wasn’t best pleased at the weather. It was times like this when I wished I was back in the days of weather ponies. Unfortunately I wasn’t, so I simply had to grit my teeth and bear the horrible weather.
When I opened the door I was immediately buffeted by a gust of wind that nearly knocked me backwards. It didn’t though, so I maintained my dignity. Wraith and I pushed out of the shack and continued on our heading, the rain driving into our faces and the wind making the going hard. Typical, really, that the day I decide to begin a long distance trek is the day that a colossal storm kicked off. That sort of thing seemed to always happen to me. I could hear thunder a long way off and knew that there was still the worst to come. I had to remove my hat and stuff it into my saddlebags in order to prevent it from flying off into the distance. The downside to this was that my mane got absolutely drenched. The sludge under our feet made walking even harder, and the mud caking my hooves made them feel like lead.
After a good couple of hours we may have gone a kilometre or two, but no more. Wraith and I decided that it just wasn’t worth it and we’d have to take up refuge in someplace. We kept our eyes open (as much as was possible in the torrential downpour we were stuck in) for shelter along our path but couldn’t see much in any direction. At least if any Scavenger patrols were headed our way they’d likely walk straight past us.
Soon we did find a shelter (or more we walked headlong into it) in the form of what appeared to be an old café. If I squinted through the rain, I could make out a cobbled street and a few houses. We’d stumbled across a long abandoned village and we were very pleased to see it, immediately ducking into the shelter of the doorway. We shut the door tight behind us to keep out the rain. I took in the room as a whole. There was a staircase behind the counter that lead upstairs, and upon the counter was a cash register that had a bullet hole in the side. There were several tables scattered across the room with the chairs stacked on top, except one which had two chairs pushed under it. There were a few paintings hanging on the wall, most of which were askew, and a few stacked up against the side wall. A lot of the paintings had been defaced in some way, usually with graphic graffiti. Polystyrene and porcelain coffee cups were stacked behind the counter on shelves with a few loose ones alone sitting on the tables or on the floor. It wasn’t massively tidy, but at least it was shelter from the driving rain.
The first thing I did having set about my duties was open up the cash register. It made a loud and satisfying ‘ching’ as I did so. There was no money in it (no bits that is) but it was loaded with loose bullets of all shapes and sizes. There was one that was easily the length of my horn (which, for your information, was slightly larger than average for my height and I was quite proud of it). I closed the register and it clicked. I looked under the counter for anything useful. There was another of those steel safes, however this one looked severely battered, as if the Scavengers had really tried hard to get it open. There were scrape marks all along the faces, the lock had been battered by something blunt and there were several small dents in it from where the Scavengers had likely been shooting at it. It looked so worn that the door seemed ready to come off its hinges. I tugged on it but it wouldn’t budge. I enveloped the door in a field of my magic and put as much force behind it as I could. I heard it creak once before pulling loose with a loud metallic snapping sound.
I looked into the surprisingly still well protected hollow. There was a small pistol with a couple of loose clips and a bag full of what appeared to be bullets, but I couldn’t tell. Also inside was stack of log books, likely the café’s inventory and bank records. Whilst the books were useless to me, I did take out the pistol, ammunition and bag. The bag chinked, which was promising. The pistol made me laugh quietly to myself. It was just big enough to be considered the same size as my hoof, and I struggled to imagine it doing any considerable damage to anything. The bullets looked the same as the ones my Glock used though, so that was a good sign. I emptied the contents on the bag onto the table. I was slightly disappointed when no bullets came out, but instead a shower of golden coins clattered onto the desk. There were easily a couple hundred bits there. Whilst usually such a sight would have made me salivate, this money was next to useless to us out here. Still, I took about fifty of the coins and put them in my saddlebags, which were beginning to get very heavy. I would have to do a sort of them whenever I got to Refuge.
Wraith was beginning to strip his rifle for cleaning. I debated doing the same but ultimately decided to check what was upstairs. Besides, weapon cleaning was boring. I climbed my way up the stairs but froze just before I reached the top step. From here I could peer through the banister and see what was up here and whether or not there was anything to be worried about. This looked to be a residential area, likely where the old café owner lived. It was well furnished with a writing desk, a bedside table, a large oaken wardrobe, what looked like an artificial bush suit, a sniper rifle, a light machinegun and two Scavengers with no tunics on laying on the bed and making out with each other. For the record, their tunics were at the foot of the bed, so I knew they were Scavengers. The window was open slightly, making the curtains flap in the breeze. I loved how outside the weather had gone all balls up, but inside there was just a light breeze. It made the room feel rather fresh and clean, despite likely having not been cleaned in a very long time. There were a few drops of rain that made it into the room, soaking the floorboards below the window.
I ducked my head down. Either these Scavengers were too heavily absorbed in their own passion to hear us, or they thought we were Scavengers. I slowly began to back my way back down the stairs as things got a little more intimate and alerted Wraith to their presence. He reached for his pistol but I stopped him, “I think they think we’re Scavengers or they’d have come down to kill us already.”
“So what better time to kill them? When they least expect it, before they kill us when we least expect it.”
“Yea, but…”
“What?” I blushed and whispered the next bit.
“They’re kind of… You know… having sex.” Wraith blinked, entirely uninterested.
“And?”
“It’s kind of a little rude to kill them when they’re doing the face down tango, isn’t it?”
“Would they extend the same courtesy to you?”
“No, probably not, but I’m trying to be bigger than they are. I don’t want to stoop down to their level.” Wraith nodded. We had to be the bigger ponies here. It was true, if I was having a private moment they wouldn’t hesitate to put a knife in my back, but I didn’t want to be like the Scavengers any more than I could help, so I simply sat at a table trying not to hear the commotion upstairs. I was rather surprised when I heard a loud thud, but then rolled my eyes as the usual noises continued.
I eventually did begin cleaning my weapon, and was rather surprised when the noises kept going after I had finished cleaning it for the second time. Seriously though, how long can two Scavengers bonk each other for? I think soon after that they ‘finished’ and the noises stopped. I looked over at Wraith; he had just finished loading his rifle. He cocked the rifle and prepared for a firefight. I loaded my hollow points. Gruesome though they were (and likely illegal) they were very effective and could turn even my pistol into a powerful weapon to be reasoned with. I could hear the Scavengers talking but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. It sounded like the stallion was agreeing with something from the tone of his voice. I heard the sound of something heavy being picked up and readied myself.
I heard the stallion at the top of the stairs, “Do you want a coffee or not?”
“I’m not drinking that crap. You can’t make a decent coffee worth shit!”
“Hey, I don’t work here arsehole! You can make your own coffee.” I heard a laugh and then the sound of somepony descending the stairs. As soon as the stallion’s muzzle came into view I clapped my hoof over it and put the pistol to his head, dragging him off to one side. He immediately tried to scream but failed. He still wasn’t wearing his tunic, but he now had a garrison cap on his head. Wraith pointed his rifle at the Scavenger’s head and whispered, “If you make a sound, I’ll end you.”
“I can’t hear any coffee being made, are you having problems with the machine again?” Wraith poked the rifle into the Scavenger’s forehead.
“Answer her. And answer her properly.” Wraith nodded at me and I took my hoof off his mouth, ready to pull the trigger if he made any sign of screaming for help.
“Yea. It’s being a little faulty again.”
“Hurry up well, I need you back up here.”
“I’m a little tied up here.
Wraith pushed the Scavenger into a chair and kept his rifle on him. He whispered over to me, “Go get the other one.” I nodded. I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could. When I was about half way up the stairs the mare called back down.
“Hang on a sec, what about the other guys down there. I haven’t heard anything from them?” I froze completely. I waited for the stallion to respond and after a while he called back up.
“Yea, yea. They’re a little quiet. Speak up guys.” Nothing more followed. I was back to creeping. The mare was beginning to get suspicious and I had to subdue her before she came down to see what was going on. When I got to the top of the stairs I saw the mare with her tunic on (but not done up), resting the sniper rifle on the window sill and peering down the scope. She turned to look at me and I froze in place. She stared at me and I stared back. She blinked once, “You don’t look like a Scavenger.” I lunged forwards but she was a little quick for me, reversing the rifle and smashing the butt into my temple. I stumbled and fell to the floor, pain searing through my head and making my vision flash. My head was buzzing and my ears were ringing. My pistol had fallen to the floor with a clunk and the Scavenger rounded on me.
“This one’s not very friendly!” She picked me up by the collar of my jumper and slammed me against the wall. My vision was still swimming slightly and it was making me feel slightly sick. The Scavenger took a handkerchief out of her pocket and blindfolded me, completely blocking out my vision. I felt her throw me onto the bed. Likely this was a measure to make sure she didn’t make too much noise. Wraith was in a bit of a stalemate. He couldn’t take his rifle of the stallion and help me or the Scavenger would come up behind him and stab him in the back. Likewise he couldn’t leave me at the mercy of this deranged lunatic. I just hoped he made up his mind quickly, and whatever he decided to do I hoped it would help me escape.
I felt the Scavenger push me against the wall again, this time face first, my muzzle smashing into the woodwork painfully. She grabbed my hooves and pulled my forelegs back, eliciting a howl of pain. The agony shooting through my collar bones was horrific. It felt as though she was intent on pulling my legs off. I felt her slap a set of cold metal cuffs on my hooves, locking them and trapping my legs behind my back. I lit up my horn, but without the ability to see I couldn’t direct its energy in any particular direction. I think I managed to knock over a plant pot, but not much more. The mare dug her hoof into my back, “Stop that or I’ll cut off your horn.” I let the aura die down and screamed again. The Scavenger grabbed my mane and pulled my head back, tying a gag into my mouth. She pulled me back and pushed me onto the bed where I sat myself up, moaning in pain and fear. I heard the Scavenger pick up my pistol. She called down the stairs, “Okay, listen here, whoever you are! I know you’ve got my coltfriend hostage, but I’ve got one of your number up here with me and she’s in no fit state to fight. If any one of you come up these stairs before my coltfriend is set free, I’ll scatter her brains.” Interesting. Her choice of words indicated that she thought there were more of us than just me and Wraith. Maybe Wraith could use that to his advantage, if he was smart enough.
The Scavenger pushed the barrel of my pistol under my chin. I panted in fear. Only I knew the true destructive power of the rounds currently held in the weapon. A shot from my pistol with normal ammunition I could probably survive, but having witnessed the effectiveness of the hollow points, I didn’t have high hopes of surviving, particularly at this range. The Scavenger pulled on my mane again and I grunted in pain. She took my gag out of my mouth briefly, “Scream, little filly! I want them to hear your pain.” She gave my mane a hard tug and I screamed, my voice reaching pitches I didn’t know it could reach. I was terrified. I was completely at this Scavenger’s mercy. If only I’d just shot instead of trying to capture her. Then I wouldn’t be having my mane pulled whilst blindfolded and cuffed.
I decided to call out, “Wraith? Wraith help me!”
“How many of you are there?”
“There are three more downstairs and more on their way. If you don’t let me go then we’ll kill you first.”
“Who do you work for exactly? You’re not LRSA and there’s no way that the NSA have the balls to stumble into our territory. Talk, you little bitch!” Pain shot through my sternum as though the mare had just bucked me in the chest and I fell backwards. I would have screamed but the blow knocked the air out of my lungs and sent pain rocketing through my torso. I gasped whilst trying to regain my breath. I wheezed a quiet, “I work for the Regulators. We’re trying to restore order to Equestria.” I’d just made the faction up, but it made me sound vaguely important and I hoped it would scare her into thinking I was with a group capable of wielding revenge.
“I’ve never heard of them. You’re lying!”
I heard the Scavenger pick up something heavy. I assumed it was her rifle. She hopped onto the bed next to me and I waited in anticipation of an incoming blow. I felt her swing what felt like the butt of her rifle up between my legs and I howled in agony. I crossed my legs and rolled over onto my side, biting down on the bed sheets to stifle my cries. She grabbed hold of me and forced me back onto my back, “Tell me the truth or I’ll break your fucking legs!” I panted in panic. I soon got back the will to speak, but my speech was interspersed with gasps of pain and fear.
“I-I’m a freelancer! It’s just me and my friends.”
“Right, so there is nopony else?”
“N-no. Just us.”
“Good. Then not many ponies will care what I do to you!” I felt her stamp on my sternum, hard. I was confident that if she did that again then it would shatter. I would have screamed but the blow forced the air back out of my lungs again.
The mare laughed maniacally. I could tell she was enjoying this. Enjoying hurting me. I was silently willing for Wraith to just forget his hostage and come and save me. Whatever happened, I didn’t want to die like this. The mare lifted up my jumper until it was hanging over my face, exposing my midriff. I felt something cold and sharp press in between two of my ribs. She whispered close to my ear, “I’m going to give your friends five minutes. If they haven’t let my coltfriend go by then. I’m going to kill you. Until then, you’re my hostage. Now be a good filly and open wide.” I did as she commanded but dreaded the outcome. It was surprisingly better than I expected. All she did was spit in my mouth and gag me again. Whilst it was disgusting, it wasn’t as bad as what I had anticipated.
I moaned quietly into my gag. The pain from between my legs and in my chest was horrible. The Scavenger was pacing slowly. After the first minute passed she called down the stairs again, “I’m not happy with having to wait this long! How about I do some more damage to your friend?” I groaned. Here we go again. I felt the blade of her knife on my face. For one horrible moment I was sure she was going to stab me in the eye or something, but she simply cut a gash from underneath my left eye across to the base of my neck. I howled into my gag as her knife split my fur and skin and spilled my blood. I kicked my hind legs furiously, getting a lucky strike on the Scavenger’s side. It didn’t do anything other than piss her off a little more, and she cuffed my hind legs as well to stop me thrashing. She came up close to me again, “Do that again, my little filly, and I’ll cut off your horn and push it up your ass!” I stopped struggling. My blindfold was beginning to soak with tears as I literally cried in agony and morbid fear.
She returned to pacing. I was counting the seconds. Every one of them I was willing Wraith to just appear and rescue me, or just anypony at all, but nothing happened. The second minute passed. The Scavenger growled, “Ding dong! That’s another minute! Keep this up and the only thing left of your companion will be a nice fur coat!” The Scavenger came towards me again. “Your friends must not care about you all that much for them to not have attempted a rescue yet. I’m disappointed.” My heart sank. Wraith was still a Scavenger, really. He said he wasn’t, but he really was. He had the uniform and everything. Could he possibly just turn his back on me when the going got tough? Had the stallion we’d captured downstairs swung him back round to their way of thinking? I hadn’t thought it possible but I’d already proved that Wraith was mentally weak. It just took some well-spoken words to convince him to swap sides.
The mare threw herself onto the bed next to me. She stroked her hoof along my mane in a patronising way, “You were so cock sure coming up here, weren’t you? You thought you could catch me off guard? I’m not as thick as my coltfriend I’m afraid. As you found out, much to your misfortune.” The Scavenger yanked on my mane again. I screamed into the gag as she did so. She didn’t stop though. She just kept pulling on my mane harder and harder until I was sure she would simply yank it out. She stopped though, but instead she wacked me in the face, making my head spin again. Thankfully the bed absorbed most of the energy, or my nose would likely have broken. The Scavenger chuckled, “If this keeps up for much longer, I’m going to ram my knife between your legs, understand?” I nodded furiously. I was now silently praying for Wraith to save me. Please, for the love of all that was still good in the world, somepony, anypony please help me.
I counted the seconds, watching Wraith’s remaining saving time dwindle into non-existence. He was running out of time to help. If he didn’t show up soon then I would never be able to have foals. Thirty seconds. I was sobbing into my gag, preparing to beg for mercy should I get the chance. Twenty seconds. I would do anything, please just make it end. Fifteen seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight. “Time’s up! That’s another minute gone by!” Wait, what? She was either counting faster than me or she had started sooner. Either way, I still squealed and forced myself onto my belly in order to protect my precious genetalia. The mare didn’t sound perturbed, “Oh, well I suppose that’ll do too! Get ready for the pain of a lifetime!” I could hear her pace towards me, I could see in my mind’s eye her preparing her knife. I felt her pull on my tail and I screamed again. Had my legs still been free I would have kicked her as hard as I could, but alas, I was powerless. I could mentally see her ready up, preparing to strike.
I heard the sound of metal rupturing flesh and felt hot blood spatter across my back. Had she done it? That didn’t hurt much at all. I didn’t even scream. I couldn’t feel any knife sticking into me, nor was there any agonising pain. Maybe the shock had killed me. Was I dead? I felt something heavy fall onto my back, then something rolled me over. I felt my gag get pulled from my mouth and the first thing I did was blurt out, “Please! I’ll do anything you want! Don’t hurt me anymore!”
“Bucky, it’s me!” Wraith pulled off my blindfold, light rushing into my eyes and temporarily blinding me. I winced and looked up to see Wraith looking down on me in concern.
“You took your time! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through up here?”
“A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Gratitude? It took you four or so minutes to do anything! What were you doing down there? Playing Texas Hold’em with our hostage?”
“Actually I was trying to think of a way to save you without getting you killed! It’s not that easy juggling two hostages at once!”
“Oh shut up and get these cuffs off me! I don’t care what happened down there! Just get me as far away from this Scavenger lunatic as possible!” I turned my head to look into the eyes of the mare that had tortured me. There was a trail of blood pooling in the corner of her mouth and I could see a large kitchen knife in her back. Wraith hastily went about searching for the keys and quickly undid my cuffs.
The minute I was free I leapt up from the bed and backpedalled furiously. If there was any place I wanted to be, it was far away from her. That was the most traumatic experience of my entire life and aspects of it haunt me to this day. This simply served as a well needed reminder of what I was fighting to end. I poked the corpse once. It didn’t move. I pulled the knife from her back and a fountain of blood left with it. I rolled the body over and picked it up by the collar of the mare’s tunic, “How do you like getting stabbed in the face?” I yelled as I slammed the blade of the knife between the mare’s eyes. It didn’t get very far, being stopped by her skull, but it was the principle that mattered. I dropped the corpse and spat in her eye. “I’ll keep my horn on my head where it belongs thanks.”