//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: The Rain is a Pain, it falls Mainly on my Mane // Story: Fallout: Equestria: A Cut Above // by Wirepony //------------------------------// Author's Note: This chapter benefited from the twin spurs of shame and sleep deprivation – it's tough to keep up with mutant text-producing abominations like Volrathxp. My thanks still go out to my pre-reader, Arcane_Scroll, who saves me from my comma abuse. Fallout: Equestria: A Cut Above. Chapter 3: The Rain's a Pain, it falls Mainly on my Mane. I woke up cold. The evening breeze had been to the south, and had been little more than a distraction thanks to the protection by the bulk of the hill. The morning brought reversal of the wind, carrying a chill and a salt smell off of the water. The cold had soaked through my armor, damp from the dew, and I was not having a good start to the day. I managed to get myself to my feet, cursing the cold and the wet. Blinky was still in his normal comatose state, and didn't react except to grunt and cuddle in closer when I moved him up onto my shoulders. I picked up the unnamed pony's hat. It was faded and worn, but it was still a hat, and it fit well enough. Screwing the fedora onto my head, I nosed around the shanty for anything I had missed or neglected the night before. The back of the shanty held nothing of interest, nor did the side. The remaining side of the three-walled structure held the ammo cans I had noticed on the way in, and first aid kit. Grumbling at the uncomfortable feeling of the wet leather, I turned to the ammo boxes. The first one was unlocked, and had a handful of smallish bullets in it. I tucked the stubby brass into a saddlebag, on the theory that someone might want it enough to trade for it. The second ammo can was locked. I pulled a screwdriver and a bobby pin out, and did my best, but couldn't get the lock open. I moved on to the first aid kit, and it was locked, as well. I bit down on my rising irritation, and the screwdriver, and concentrated on the bobby pin. I had never had much training in picking locks, and little opportunity to use the skill I had. The bobby pin rolled off to the left, slowly and carefully. Ears forward, I listened to the tiny sounds coming from the 200 year old lock. Finding a pin I felt confident in, I slowly rotated my head to the left. Awkwardly, I craned my neck around nearly a full circle, and when the lock clicked open, I dropped hat, screwdriver and bobby pin, and fell over in surprise. Righting myself, I took a second to nuzzle Blinky, who was complaining about the trip to the dirt. Once he calmed down, I replaced my dapper new hat, and opened the first aid kit. With a smile, I snatched out the magical bandages, still sealed in their original plastic. Into the saddlebags with them, and with the two syringes of Med-X that were all this kit had in it. Back on my feet, I stretched again, working the weirdness from cranking my neck over out of my system, cursing my damp leather armor. I fired up the mapping assistant, orienting myself back towards the lake, which was almost directly South now. I took one last glance around the lean to, delivered a sharp kick to the ammo can that had resisted my lockpicking attempts, made a final adjustment of my nice new hat, and set off. Blinky spat and muttered from my shoulders, grumpy about his rough handling during my lockpicking. I ignored him, tipping my hat to the fallen technician pony, under his mound. He'd faced a terrible time, been witness to the end of Equestria-that-was, and died alone in this desert. I felt pretty good about having gotten him under the dirt, where he belonged. Laying forever in an abandoned shack or food to raiders or animals was something I was probably going to face, some day. But that was me, born in the Wasteland, and part of it. That wasn't the pony I had buried, though. He was part of a softer, better place. Dark thoughts rolled and boiled through my head, aggravating me as I trod circles inside my mind. The sun hadn't properly come up this morning, hidden behind grey clouds that thickened and filled the sky as I creaked and grumbled my way South along the dunes, my wet armor slowly warming and drying from my exertion. I kept a wary eye on the clouds, and sure enough, almost as soon as my armor stopped being irritating because it was wet, the rain started. The first fat droplets of rain hit my hat with weird 'paff' noises, and I stopped cold to pull my rain cape out of my saddlebag and toss it over my barrel. Blinky would stay dry, at least. The cape fastened around my neck, and just covered the base of my tail, adding another layer of aggravation to my day as it tugged at both ends. Aggravating or not, the cape helped protect me against the moderate rain that followed. I trudged across the Wasteland, occasionally pushing into a canter on the downhill slopes, and the Wasteland flattened out. Midmorning, I found a lower than normal low spot, one that had collected a decent puddle in the rain. Fishing one of my empty canteens out from under my rain cape, I filled it and drank. The gritty, earthy-tasting water did nothing to improve my mood, and I grumbled my way onward. The rain increased in force as the day went on, and at noon I stood in what was certainly a downpour, my rain cape and armor soaked through, Blinky the only spot of warmth on my hide. I was starting to pass beyond aggravated and towards concerned. The mapper said I should have reached the 'Inland Sea' already, and there was nothing but the steadily fading hills. Much more of this, and I was going to have to do something about warm and dry, and that promised to be very difficult in the unceasing rain. I was almost literally blown out of my funk. The crater that appeared in the sand to my left came on the tail of a blast that sounded like thunder, and startled me badly enough that I somersaulted off of the dune and slid down its sandy side in a miniature avalanche. I came to rest on my left side, facing South with a mouthful of sand. I spit sand, and started sorting limbs and leather, when a booming voice interrupted me. "Stop right the fuck there, fucko! That wasn't a miss, that was a warning shot. Do anything but wave a hoof, and you're a splatter!" I stopped everything, falling back onto my side. Blinky growled and dug his claws into my shoulders, poking me through my armor. I twitched, and froze, shivering, when a heavy 'KaCHOK' sound came from overhead. I slowly raised my right forehoof, and just as slowly waved it. "Good boy. Now, roll onto your fucking back and stretch all them legs out." The unknown voice demanded. "I can't, I'll squish Blinky!" I protested, and another crater blew out of the sand, this time just to the right of my head. I kicked over onto my back, trying to avoid squishing the indignant Blinky, who pierced claws through my armor and what felt like several inches of meat. "Owwww, FUCK!" "Alright, just sit tight and someone will be out to see to you." Demanding Voice said, and I heard rattling clanks and a creaking squeal of a door opening. Hoofsteps thudded across the sand, and shortly someone came into view, a heavy figure swathed in a hooded rain cape, black and shiny in the pouring rain. "Huh. You don't look much like a raider, son." The shrouded figure said in a gravelly tone. "I'm not. I'm fucking –OW- hurting here, though!" I replied. "Blinky's trying to dig his way out of my fucking chest, the long way!" The figure snorted, and backed away a step. A gun of some sort floated around in a green magic field, pointed at my head. "That Blinky thing under your rain cape?" he asked, gruffly but not impatiently. "Yeah. He's kinda my pet." "Tell you what. Unhook that rain cape and roll out of it. Don't make any sudden moves, or Mabel here will ruin your whole fuckin' day. OK?" "Yea- Yes." I sputtered, and slowly reached up with a forehoof. The latch of my rain cape popped open obediently, and the strap fell loose. Moving slowly and smoothly, eyes on the looming prescence in the grey rain, I opened my legs as wide as I could, and twisted myself over. I ended up kneeling, facing the unicorn in the rain cape, soaking in my already wet armor. Blinky, unsquished and furious, pulled his claws out of my shoulders and swarmed up my neck, chittering a molerat war cry. His rear claws dug into the back of my head as he launched himself at our captor, and the unicorn shied away and caught the poor molerat in another magic field. His gun never so much as wavered. "Ha- heheheh! Is that Blinky?" The unicorn asked, laughing. I nodded assent, and stayed kneeling and quiet. The unicorn floated Blinky towards him, Blinky gnashing his oversized teeth and flailing all four stubby clawed feet. The unicorn laughed again, and then swung Blinky back towards me. Blinky hit ground close enough that his thrashing rear feet kicked sand into my face as he touched down. Squinting my eyes against the grit, I snaked my head forward and caught the pissy molerat by the nape of his neck. As I gripped him, the magic field faded, and I tucked Blinky between my forelegs, keeping a firm grip on his wet hide. "OK, son, I'm gonna take that oversized toothpick off your armor. You'll get it back, don't worry." I nodded again, my mouth full of molerat hide, and Stickbird slid out of its strap in the unicorn's magic field. The unicorn examined it as well, before moving it well away from us both. "You can stand up now, son. Just take it slow and easy." I followed direction, as smoothly and slowly as I could. As I got my hooves under me, the unicorn pulled his gun back, though it never wavered away from pointing at my head. The unicorn considered me for a few long seconds, then nodded. "You gonna have to put that little ball of angry down if you wanna talk, boy. You think he'll stay put?" I nodded, then made a short gesture towards my shoulder, Blinky swinging like a bag of sausages in my mouthgrip. "We'll see. Turn to the side, here, and take it slow. Slow is the good word today, understand?" I nodded again, and turned to put my side to the unicorn. Blinky had stopped thrashing and growling, and had subsided back to a more normal grumbling. When I – slowly – put him on my back, as far forward as I could manage, he nipped me once, right through my armor, and subsided in his normal spot on my shoulders. Mouth free, I carefully looked at the unicorn, very aware of the gun still pointed at my head. "Thanks.. I think." "You're welcome, son. And I think you actually might be. You got a name?" The unicorn asked. "I'm Wicked Cut. I'm not a raider, I'm a tribal." I said, trying to keep my voice level. "And what's the difference, exactly?" The unicorn responded in his gruff voice. "I don't eat ponies, and I only kill them if I have to." I replied, my voice staying level easier now. This was one of the things we had talked about a lot, back home. I had a sudden shock of homesickness, and combined with the rain, that was enough to start me shivering. "Fair enough, boy. Let's get you and your Blinky in out of the rain before you catch your death. I'm Four-claw. Go on ahead, now." Four-claw stepped aside, his gun moving smoothly and easily in his telekinetic field. He picked up my rain cape and hat in other fields, and gestured smoothly southwards. I started out ahead of him, my shivering making my soaking armor even more uncomfortable, and it was just a few steps before a wall loomed out of the rain, a pony-sized door open in the side of it. I walked through the door, Four-claw behind me, and stepped between an earth pony and a griffin. The earth pony managed to grin around the fire axe clenched in her jaws, and the griffin twitched a nod in greeting, holding a massive rifle easily in his claws. Four-claw nudged me as he came through the door, and I continued forward, eyeing the place I had found myself. The wall continued to either side, further in either direction than I could see in the heavy rainfall. A platform ran along the inside of the wall, allowing somepony on it to see over the wall and shoot, if needed. Directly over the door stood another griffin, this one in flat black combat armor and carrying another massive rifle. This griffin launched off the platform and landed in front of me, slinging the rifle with the ease of experience. Drawn back to the center of the compound, I saw a squat, massive building, standing square in the distance. Rain reduced visibility to blobs, and there were two large ones off to the left of the building, hulking round in the grey. "Welcome to Saltfort, youngster. Four-claw let you live, so you aren't a raider or nutjob. What's your name?" The griffin, who was the Demanding Voice putting craters next to my head from earlier, asked. "I'm W-ww-wicked Cut, and I think I'm f-freezing to death here." I ventured, and the griffin laughed and gestured with a broad sweep of his wing. "Take him inside, Four-claw, we'll send Knock-knock out for the next one." The griffin's broad grin didn't change as he winked at me, and Four-claw nickered laughter behind me as he squished my sodden hat on my head and ushered me towards the bulk of the central building. Whatever sort of people these were, they at least seemed happy, if a bit trigger-happy. Four-claw guided me to the front door of the building, which seemed almost fortified – the doors were thick, and only had tiny windows in them. A dark green earth pony mare opened the door from inside. This allowed me into a small square entryway. The mare caught my eye - her colorful coat was almost completely hidden by the same style of black combat armor Demanding Voice had been wearing, and like Demanding Voice, she had no head covering. I couldn't help but wince at the sight of her mane, which had been cut short, almost to a fuzz of lighter green. "What?" she said, raising an eyebrow at my reaction. "It's just… your mane!" I said, and the mare's jaw dropped. "Soaked to the skin and shot at, and you're worried about my mane?" She said, surprise on her face. Looking past me, she eyed Four-claw, who shrugged. "You're a weird one." She stated, turning from me to open the inner door. I looked to Four-claw myself for guidance, but he just repeated his earlier shrug, and gestured towards the door. Obediently, I trotted through this door, which was just as thick as the outer door. Sockets on the top and bottom of the frame looked like nothing other than a bank vault we had found in Our Tacksworn. The inner room that this door led into was dry, relatively clean, and dominated by the long desk thalt spanned the far wall. Doors in each wall hinted at the rest of the building. Another griffin sat behind the long desk, his sooty grey feathers shined by the glow from a working terminal. The overhead lighting was inconsistent, many of the panels dark or missing, but what panels remained glowed steadily, giving the room a much brighter light than the rainy gloom outside. As soon as we were both in, Four-claw nudged me on the shoulder and waved at the griffin. "Hey, Grimfeathers. Pull your head out of the past and get this kid dried off and fed while I go talk to the boss. Find out what he wants, you know." He said, then turned to me. "I'm gonna go put your weapon in the armory. You can have it back whenever you decide to leave, OK?" He asked. I thought about it quickly, and didn't like the idea. "Alright. Thank you, Four-claw." I replied, not seeing any way around it. Four-claw thumped me reassuringly on the shoulder and moseyed off through a door to the south-east, after dropping my sodden rain cape on a bench. The griffin behind the counter sighed, and I walked up to the worn wood structure. "Lemme guess, kid. You're some sort of wasteland hero, looking to set things right." The griffin said, eyeballing me. I shrugged, eyeing him right back. "Right now, I'm just a soaking wet tribal dude looking to dry off, actually. I can save the Wasteland tomorrow." I shot back, winking at the griffin, who laughed. "You're alright, kid. I'm Engineer Grimfeathers, sent to this slab of rock to help the eggheads figure it out. What are you?" "I'm Wicked Cut, and I was kicked out of my tribe's hometown to figure out how to make the jump from Tribal to Villager." I replied immediately, and Engineer's beak gaped in a griffin laugh. We shared grins for a moment, before the raggedy griffin rose to his feet, coming out from behind the long desk. Moving, he had none of the grace or predatory swagger of the griffins in stories. Instead, he gave the impression of falling over and catching himself, especially when his left hindleg would hit the ground. The reason for his awkwardness became apparent when he rounded the corner of the long desk. His left hindleg terminated in a wooden stump affair, with a leather stub on the end of it. It didn't seem to slow him down, terribly, and he lead the way to the two doors on the east side of the room. Pushing open the one closest to the door I had entered by, he waved me in. The restroom was clean and empty, two of the stalls repaired, the only sink present intact, and the normal complement of rubbage and rubble missing. Engineer followed me in, and worked the taps on the remaining sink. "Hot water, even. Floor drain works good, too." Engineer burbled, happily showing off this amazing rarity. I stood astonished, my jaw hanging open, as steam started to roll up from the basin of hot water, Blinky stood on my shoulder, looking past my head and wrinkling his nose at the oddness. Engineer laughed as I started frantically stripping out of my armor, moving to a cabinet I hadn't noticed, tucked in behind the swing of the door. As I swung my hat onto the pile of armor, Engineer returned with a sponge, which he tossed in the sink, and a big fluffy towel, which he hung on the wall of one of the stalls. "I.. I just.. wow!" I managed to sputter out, switching my stunned gaze between the clean towel and the sink, now full of steaming water. Engineer laughed as he stepped around me to shut the hot tap off. "This has been a hell of a contract, kid, but it does have its perks. Wash off and scrub up real good, we've got tons of hot water. Make sure it all goes down the drain. Come see me once you're cleaned up." Engineer explained, then left me in the worn, but clean, confines of the bathroom. I proceeded to put deed to word, rinsing all of my canteens and scrubbing everything as best I could. The sponge was worn, but in good shape, and it was still clean enough when I finished working on my gear that I had no problem with the idea of using it on myself. I checked the temperature of the water in the sink, which was pleasantly warm now, and grabbed Blinky. Blinky, who had been very interested in the bizarre activities going on in this strange place, did not like the idea of his molerat posterior being dunked in the sink, and made his displeasure known with spits and snarls. His complaining availed him nothing, though, and in he went. The screaming fury of an enraged molerat is pretty high on the 'loud' scale. It didn't compare to gunfire, but it carried. I was holding Blinky down with one forehoof, scrubbing with the other, and the water in the sink was running tan with dirt, when Engineer stuck his head back in the door, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene. Without a word, he closed the door again. Blinky squalled and fought through his entire bath, but was pink and clean when I was done. He smelled good, fresh and only a tiny bit ratty. I almost pranced over to the pile of cleaned armor, and plopped him on top of it. Giving his considered molerat opinion, Blinky hissed in my face, curled up on the armor, and farted, before beginning the long process of washing himself with molerat spit. Laughing, I returned to the sink, drained and refilled it, and started sluicing myself clean. The hot water kept coming, and I put serious mileage on the sponge. Hot water was uncommon. Pots big enough to heat enough water to make a difference were rare, and it wasn't often that the effort needed to put together a hot bath couldn't be spent on more useful or immediate things. I scrubbed and scrubbed, dirt and dried blood, grease and ground in sweat swirling off my hide and into the floor drain. I tilted my face up into the sponge, hot water rolling past my closed eyes like liquid pleasure. The sink kept providing hot water, and I kept using it. My mane ran with dirt, brown streaming off my dripping hair. The bite on my leg had almost completely healed, only a pair of red marks remaining after I peeled the bandage off and gingerly scrubbed the area. I was amazingly clean and felt better than I had since I left home. Considering my mane in the cracked-but-usable mirror, I returned to my saddlebags, displacing the sleeping and shiny molerat, and pulled out the syringe of mixed cactus goop I had created. I squirted a small amount onto a hoof and sniffed at it. It had retained the pleasant, almost minty odor it had when I first made it, which was a good sign. The creamy texture had remained as well, which was key. With a shrug, I wetted my hair with a fresh hot sponge, and rubbed the entire contents of the syringe into my mane. It foamed up! The foam wasn't terribly thick, or incredibly consistent, but as I scrubbed my mane clean, I could feel it working. Soap, as such, was an incredible rarity, precious when it could be found. Even the harsh Abraxo cleaner was prized, and this stuff didn't burn when it didn't get rinsed off immediately. I scrubbed vigorously at my scalp, working my way across my entire hairline, the thin lather rolling down forelegs and hair. I dunked my head completely into the sink afterwards, rinsing and throwing water everywhere. I began stripping the water from my mane while the sink refilled, marveling at how even this primitive soap improved the feel of the individual hairs. I rinsed twice more before the last of the soap washed out, and couldn't stop myself from shaking. The animalistic pleasure of a good shake is not something to be discounted. I finished the simple, energetic procedure centered between all four hooves, almost gripping the tile floor. I tossed my head back and pranced back to my saddlebags, extracting one of the few 'nonessential' items I had brought from home. The hoofbrush slid into place on a forehoof, and I brushed my mane out. This was, in its own way, as pleasurable as washing my mane was. I cranked my head over to one side, stretching out the neck tendons as much as I could, so my mane hung down, and brushed that side, then flipped my head over to do the reverse. I was a few strokes into this side when the door opened again. Fortunately, I was already facing the door, so I saw the green earth pony from the door stick her head in. I waved with my brush-encumbered hoof, and the mare's eyes went wide. "That's.. wow. OK, I kinda see what you were saying earlier." The mare said, trotting over to the towel hanging on one of the stall walls. "Bossman says you need to get fed and briefed… he's got an offer for you." She then tossed the towel at me, a high arc that I was able to catch without the towel hitting the wet tiles. I shook off the hoofbrush, tossing it onto the pile of armor and saddlebags, and began drying my mane. Once I had the long flamelike sweep of my mane acceptable, I began working the towel around my barrel and shoulders. The mare stepped forward to help, which made things a lot easier, and I noticed her eyes straying to my mane, which I flipped across my neck, whipping her nose with the wet strands. She jumped back with a snort, and we both broke into laughter. After I was dry enough, the mare took the towel from me and hooked it back on the stall wall, while I slid my hoofbrush back on and threw a quick swipe at my mane. I stuffed the brush back into a saddlebag and latched it, shooting a glance at the patiently waiting mare with her stubbly mane. "So what's your name, anyway?" I asked, as I started shuffling my armor into carrying mode – basically two heavy leather bags that would sit forward of my saddlebags. "I'm Main Spring. I help keep the various shooting irons working, and help out with the soldierey stuff." The mare answered brightly. I clipped a strap closed and slung the converted armor up onto my back. My saddlebags were occupied at the moment, so I smiled at Main Spring. "Well, I'm Wicked Cut. My tribe kicked me out so I could go learn something, help us grow into a village. Pleased to meet you!" I shook hooves with the green mare, then nudged Blinky with a forehoof. Blinking, the molerat uncurled from his nap on my saddlebags and eyeballed me. I pointed a hoof at him, then swung it to point at Main Spring. "Blinky, meet Main Spring. She's nice, even if she abuses her hair. Main Spring, this is Blinky. He puts up with me and bites." Blinky rose up on his hind legs and sniffed delicately at Main Spring's hoof, getting a giggle for his efforts. I picked up the saddlebags he had abandoned, slinging them onto my back. I clicked my tounge at Blinky, and he dropped back from the petting he was receiving from Main Spring. I picked him up and set him on his normal spot, where he curled up and went back to sleep. Favoring Main Spring with a smile, I nodded at the door. "Shall we?" I asked. Smiling back, she led the way. The room I had come from was more populated now, with Demanding Voice chatting idly with Engineer and an unfamiliar unicorn. This massive beast looked more like some sort of architectural feature than a pony. Some sort of bridge abutment or pillar. His brown mane was shaved short on the sides, and stuck up in a well kept brush on top. He was gesturing when I walked out, and his hoof hitting the ground, even in idle conversation, thumped hard enough that I could feel it through the floor. My eyebrows shot up at the sight – this had to be the biggest pony I'd ever seen. He looked like he could overtop Deerjohn for height, and had a lot of pounds on the leggy deer. Engineer noticed us coming out of the bathroom, and alerted the other two with discreet nudges. Demanding Voice grinned toothily at me, and the slab of unicorn next to him eyed me, taking me in in a glance. With a friendly clop on the shoulder and a nod of his head, the huge unicorn sent Demanding Voice on his way. Demanding nodded at me on his way out the front door, and I nodded back. Walking up to the imposing slab of muscle, I stood in front of him and saluted sloppily. The unicorn laughed, and reached out a hoof. His hoofshake was strong, but controlled. None of the pushing strength displays I'd seen from younger ponies. "They tell me your name is Wicked Cut, the messiah of the Wasteland. I'm Brick Wall, the leader of the Talon mercenary group assigned to this expedition. I think you can help us, Lightbringer." My shock must have shown on my face, since Brick Wall broke into a grin that looked like a fence made of yellow tombstones. Engineer fell off his bench laughing, pounding on the floor as whooping guffaws shook his body. I stood in a state of shock, jaw hanging open as Brick and Engineer laughed like madponies. Main Spring trotted past me to smack Brick on the shoulder, cutting his laughter off. "Come on, Boss, the kid's good people. Why you gotta mess with everyone?" "Awww, Springy, I didn't mean no harm. Besides, it seems like every other bumpkin or vault crawler thinks they're the next Stable Dweller or security mare. Gotta see if the kid's got a head on his shoulders before we try and make use of it." Brick explained, giving me time to put my head back together, and for Engineer to drag himself back onto his seat. "You are such a tool, Brick." Main Spring retorted, trotting past our little conversational group to one of the doors I hadn't been through yet. "Just tell the guy" She shot over her shoulder as she nudged the door open and walked through. "Tell me what?" I asked, trying to regain my composure. "Well, I wasn't precisely kidding about needing your help. The Talons here are damn good fighters, but we're almost exclusively ranged specialists. There's a vault tucked under this place, and I could use a decent melee fighter to back up the shooters when we go in." "And I just happened to be handy." "And you just happened to be handy." Brick agreed, another grin flashing onto his broad face. "You've also reacted appropriately to our little greeting outside the wall, and have treated me and mine with respect. I wouldn't hesitate to recruit you into the Talons, actually. But I think you'll be a big help when we go downstairs, Talon or not." "Besides, you know what to do with hot water, unlike about half of these stinky bastards" Engineer added, sniffing approvingly. "If we can pull this off, the Eggheads will have a field day with the equipment, and we get first crack at the salvage. You want in?" I stopped to think it over, rubbing my jaw in thought. Brick clopped me on the shoulder, again a well-measured gesture, not the punishing blow someone less aware of their strength would have delivered. "Let's get you fed while you think, kid. We've got plenty of chow in this shack, at least." I nodded at that – it had been a long cold day, and after that bath, a meal would be heaven itself. Brick waved at Engineer and headed around the desk. The griffin threw a casual salute, and left his seat, joining me on the far side of the desk. Engineer guided me through the same door Main Spring had used. On the other side of that door, there was a large hallway running to the left and around the corner, and a stairway up on the right. Engineer went straight up the stairway, which wrapped around further right, and opened into a large room filled with ponies and griffins. The murmur of conversation in the room died as I went in, and I had plenty of time to note the benches and tables, tough simple constructions of wood and scrap, and the long counter at the far end of the room, echoing the layout of the room below. Dishes and utensils decorated the tables, Griffins and ponies both eating from bowls of soup, griffins with meat alongside their bowls, ponies with piles of hay. Licking my lips, I shot a glance at Engineer, who gave me a griffin grin. "Head on up to the counter, let's grab some chow." I put deed to word, and approached the counter. Another griffin was behind it, an apron and a squashy white hat on her head, idly twirling a ladle and staring into space. Engineer swatted a talon on a bell sitting on the counter's surface, and the countergriffin neatly fumbled a catch, dropping her ladle with a crash. Engineer's smile was as big as I'd ever seen it, the tiny feathers around his eyes crinkled by the force of his amusement. With a snarl and a rude gesture, she dived under her side of the counter after the ladle. Having retrieved her utensil, the griffiness brandished it at Engineer like a war club. "Egglebert, you bastard!" she screeched, waving the ladle threateningly. "No fucking eggs for you, you reprobate!" Engineer (Egglebert?) was busy laughing his head off, so I slid past him to approach the counter. The furious griffin held her glare on my grey guide for a long moment, before transferring it to me. Nervously, I smiled, and waved. "Hi!" I said brightly. Apparently, this was the last straw. I could see the pupils in her eyes contract into pinpricks, and I could hear the scraping of feline claws on the tile floor. Crouching, she quivered just long enough for my own eyes to open wide, then she was in the air lunging over the counter at me. I threw myself backwards and to the side, but not nearly fast enough to avoid her outstretched talons. Fortunately for my continued good health, she ran into the massive shoulder of Brick Wall, and crumpled on him like he was his namesake. Brick, calm and unruffled, stood between me and the griffin, who was back on her feet, her tail lashing behind her, but her posture subdued, almost crouching over her forelegs. Ignoring the griffin, Brick helped me get back to my feet. "You OK there, boy?" Brick asked in his surprisingly pleasant voice. "Yeah. If you hadn't shown up, though, I don't know what would have happened." I replied, stretching the foreleg I had landed on, jumping out of the way. I craned around and checked Blinky, who hadn't even bothered waking up, his claws hooked into the straps of my bundled armor. Brick nodded once, then turned back to the agitated griffiness. "Hellen. Get topside, run a patrol. Don't come down until you can think again." Brick commanded brusquely. Hellen gaped her beak in a snarl, crouching further as if to pounce at Brick, then flashed past him in a scrape of claws on tile, and was gone. Brick shook his head, then nodded at one of the other griffins, who jumped to his feet and hustled to Hellen's recently abandoned spot behind the counter. "What can I get you guys – we got fried hay, fried eggs, hay fries, some fresh cattails, even a little bit of grass. We've got some pre-war apples, sugar bombs, even some potatoes!" The light brown griffin was cheerful and good natured, pointing out the various items as he named them. I nodded my way along, pointing out some fried eggs and cattails. I held onto my plate as Engineer moved past the vegetables, picking out some fried tunnel rat and a brahmin steak-and-eggs combo for himself. The griffin had moved back to his interrupted meal, so I scooped some of the brahmin steak-and-eggs onto my plate for myself. Engineer had made it to a table already, so I scooted in next to him, hoisting Blinky onto the table next to my plate. As Blinky dug into some cattail, I snatched up a tunnel rat half and started crunching bones. I finished off the last of the tunnel rat, spitting the little claws and legbones back onto my plate, and cleaned my teeth with the tail, preparatory to switching to the eggs. I noticed that the room had gone silent. Looking up, I saw everyone in the room, pony and griffin alike, staring at me. Picking my teeth with the rat tail, I looked around, meeting their confused gazes. "What?" Footnote: Level Progression: 57%, Sorry, maybe next time!