//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: What Remains of the Shattered World 
// by ImpossibleReflection 
//------------------------------//

	Dust flew heavily through the air. The wind blew over the barren landscape and tugged at a worn brown duster and matching cowpony hat. Under all this clothing was an orange coat, and an apple cutie mark. Under the round brim of the hat lay a pair of determined green eyes. A pair of eyes looking for something lost.

She started up a hill. Remnants of white and black sand. What once was a checkerboard, but deteriorated over the years in the absence of his power. 

She crested the top of the hill.  In the distance she could see the faint silhouette of a very small town in the distance. She tilted her hat back down over her eyes to attempt to block the sand and began trudging down the hill and towards the town. 

The hard ground, with a fine soft covering of sand, broke and cracked under her hooves as she cantered into the town. It was as basic as a town could get, one east to west street with buildings lining the north and south sides of it. They structures were decayed and in a serious state of disrepair, and the mare doubted they provided much protection against the elements. On the north side the town snuggled up against a shot rocky hill.

Any ponies that where outside gave her disdainful looks. Others went inside. It wasn't just because she was a stranger, it was what she was carrying. She was a gunslinger. A pair of twin barreled howdah pistols were strapped to her forelegs, and a musket easily twice the length of her torso lay on her back. 

Not long after it all began, a griffin figured out they could use the charges from fireworks to launch projectiles at a lethal velocity, in the hopes of defending himself he made firearms. The notion spread quickly, and while many thought them evil, many others thought them a necessity. Though sometimes the ponies who thought them evil needed one, that's where the gunslingers come in. They provide service of some sort, getting rid of varmints, criminals et cetera. Or sometimes whatever or whoever the person with the cash wanted a hole in. Whether guns were good or evil were irrelevant in the eyes of the mare. They existed, and as such will not cease to exist, and will be used as long as they do.

She stood still for a moment, focusing her ears as they lay insider her hat. After a few moments she found what she was searching for. The sound of a honky tonk playing on a piano, a sound typically only found in one type of location. She headed towards the noise, hoping for a lead, after two years of searching, she was hoping for just one clue to lead her to what she was looking for: A tavern on the north side of town.

The buildings in the town blocked some of the sandstorm, but that didn't keep some sand from coming in when she walked through the double doors into the din of the local watering hole. She stood at the doors of the tavern, there were what appeared to be magical blasts decorating various furnishings and parts of the interior. As she started walking through, the conversations died one by one as ponies threw looks at her, either of disdain or curiosity. Some of the conversations resumed immediately after they paused, others kept trying to turn their eyes into the guns they so distrusted to shoot the newcomer.

The gunslinger payed them little heed as she made her way to the bar, where the barmaid sat. She was a unicorn, maybe in her early twenties, just old enough to barely remember the old world. The well armed mare tilted her hat back and sat upon a barstool. "We don't take to kindly to your kind around here" the bartender stated coldly.

"Ah can tell."

"Well what do you want."

"Equestria like it once was."

"I can't give you alcohol strong enough to make you believe that."

"But maybe you can give me some information. Ah'm lookin' fer ponies who used ta be heroes."

"All the heroes are dead."

"Maybe they are, don't keep me from lookin' though."

At that the bartender let her building irritation show, "Are you going to buy anything or am I going to have to kick you out?"

"I'll pay ya fer information, if ya can give it to me." The gunslinger reached her head back into one of the large pockets of the duster and retrieved a bag of bits, letting it jingle as she set it on the bar.

"So what information are you looking for?" She eyed the gunslinger skeptically.

"I'm looking for ponies that look like they should stick out in a crowd of millions, but don't."

"Sounds like a wild goose chase."

"Somepony has ta chase it."

"I don't think I'd remember a pony that won't stick out."

A young unicorn colt with a broom spoke up, "What about that mean flying pony who wouldn't stop crying? Well, feathered pony, she didn't fly too much."

That peaked the gunslingers interest. "Would she happen ta 'ave a yelluh coat, and a pink mane?"

"Yeah that was her!" the colt shouted happily.

"Would ya happen ta remember where she went?"

"No." The bartender spat out.

The gunslinger looked the bartender square in the eyes, "Ain't no use lyin' to me."

The unicorn seemed to recoil at the declaration. Then she solidified her nerves and met the gunslingers stare with one of her own.  "I will not let you hunt that mare down."

"Ah'm gonna help her."

"Now who's lying? you're just going to gun her down as soon as you find her."

"Ah don't lie. Ah may shoot ponies, sometimes not asking as many questions as Ah should, but Ah don't lie. She was an old friend of mine before everything went ta shit. How many bits do I have to give ya, I'll give ya every last one if it'll help me get my friend back."

"your bits ain't ..." a loud crash interupted the bartenders dialogue, the piano stopped playing on an off key, and all conversations ceased. The cause of the disruption being the doors.	

"Tax time," came the unmistakable gravelly voice of a diamond dog. 

The orange mare glanced over her shoulder to see three tall creatures shamble in. Each wielding a glowing crystal blaster from the war. They where walking up to the patrons of the bar having bits handed into their paws from unhappy, and definitely unwilling hooves. The gunslinger slid her bag of bits back into a pocket on the duster.

Finally one of them made it to the bar and pointed their crystal at the bartender, at which the unicorn levitated a bag of bits from under the counter and placed it in front of the diamond dog. "That all? Give more!"

"I d-don't have any more." The crystal glowed a bit brighter. "I swear I don't have any more, please, show mercy."

It was at this time the diamond dog took interest in the heavily equipped mare. "You, give bits."

"Enope."

The diamond dog enraged by this, reached his empty paw out, the crystal glowing sickly purple, "Give!"

Instead of following the requests of the thug she ducked under the creatures arms, then standing up on her rear legs, placed the barrels of one of her howdah pistols under the diamond dogs chin, and before he could do anything, used her other hoof to press one of the triggers.

A ball of fire and smoke erupted and engulfed the diamond dogs face, but what really did the damage was the slew of lead balls that flew through his skull liquefying the brain instantly. Some of the pellets made it all the way through, splattering liquid remnants of brain mixed with blood against the ceiling.

As the diamond dog fell the mare turned to the other two thugs, one had his back to her, with no pony in direct vicinity. The other diamond dog was turning towards her with a glowing crystal about to be aimed her way. Unfortunately the one about to fire was right behind a pony that would be caught in the crossfire should she engage. After a nearly instantaneous calculation, she launched another slew of smoke, fire, and lead at the diamond dog with it's back turned, all nine pellets leaving holes in the creatures back. It then fell to the floor and began twitching. The gunslinger quickly dove out of the way of the blast from the last living diamond dog. 

The blast struck the bar sending alcohol and broken glass raining on the cowering bartender.

The gunmare used the mental map of the place she made in her stay here to attempt to figure out the safest angle of attack on the last diamond dog. The diamond dog was almost entirely surrounded by ponies, meaning that the mare would have to get in closer than she would have liked. She ducked under a table to get closer. Damn she thought to herself, there was no way to safely get close enough to minimize collateral to ponies, she was going to have to rush forward and hope for the best.

As the diamond dog started to level the crystal at her, she bolted towards her opponent at a curve in the hopes that it would confuse the dog enough to not be struck. The dog blasted to the gunslinger's left missing entirely. She dove at the diamond dog as he released another shot, this one piercing the mare's duster and singing her right hindleg. The momentum carried her, and she pressed the muzzles of her other howdah pistol into the bottom of his ribcage. Pressing the trigger unleashed the lead projectiles into the chest, tearing upward through lungs and heart and leaving in a spray of blood that rained down harmlessly.	

Her momentum caused her to tackle the near dead diamond dog bowling it over, her body then rolling a few more times off of him into a lump of pain. She struggled to reach the flask of whiskey she kept in her duster, and once finding it opened it and poured it over her burn. She bit dents into the metal when the whiskey struck flesh. she finished pouring out the alcohol and put it back into her inside duster pocket. She then fetched some bandages from out of her duster side pockets. she was wrapping her hindleg with a bandage when the shock wore off of the barmare. 

"What in Tartarus did you do!?"

"Ah solved yer thug problem."

"No! They're going to get revenge for this. These dogs were part of a bigger pack, and they're going to come and kill us all now!"

"Well how 'bout this, Ah finish solving yer thug problem, and you tell me about the yelluh pegasus."

The gunslinger and the bartender made eye contact and had an argument only they could hear, only they could know about. The bartender yielded, "Fine."

After this agreement the gunslinger began the process of cleaning her guns. She took the brush out of her duster and holding it in her mouth swabbed the barrels, then flipped the brush over and used the wire at the other end to clean out the pinholes connecting the powder pan to the inside of the breech. "Tell me how to find the rest of 'em," the mare stated before beginning to load her pistols. 

"They're in a cutie-theif camp due north of here."

The mare held a powder horn in the crook of her foreleg and used her teeth to uncork it. She them poured the appropriate powder down the barrel, then using her teeth she extracted the fixed ramrod and pushed it down the barrel, before tamping down the powder with her hoof. "How far," she asked before once again using her teeth to extract the rod.

"Not much more than a mile, pretty much on the other side of that hill. You can't miss it."

The gunslinger put a small bundle of cloth full of lead shot down the barrel, before once again tamping it down. She then poured the appropriate amount of powder in the flash pan before locking the steel striker in place. She repeated the process for the next two barrels. The last barrel she didn't shoot, had the flash pan open with no powder left from her tumble, so she replaced the powder in that as well, Also checking the musket, and replacing the powder that had fallen out of that as well.  The day was almost over, and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she could really feel the pain of the burn and the fatigue of the miles she'd traveled today. "Do ya have an open room?"

"Yeah, upstairs, any room you want, we don't get many travelers."

"How much?" Said the gunslinger.

"Excuse me?"

"How much would a room cost."

"Oh, uh. twenty bits."

The orange mare reached into her duster and grabbed the sack of bits and tossed it to the unicorn. "keep the change" 

The unicorn regained some semblance of professionalism, "My name is Wet Whistle, what is your's?"

"Applejack. Nice ta meet ya."