Chapter 12: I was dead?
Chapter 12: I was dead?
“Very well, I will fix it. I only ask one thing in return…”
Somepony once told me that, sometimes, you need to know when to give up. I’d never really understood why you would want to give up for any reason. Before, I simply decided giving up was overrated. But more recently, the Wasteland had changed me for the worse. It’s just… the Wasteland grabs you by force and grinds down your resolve until there’s nothing left.
“Wakey, wakey.” Gala Frosty gently nudged me. I groaned and buried my face deeper into the most comfortable pillow I could dream of. “Oh, come on. You can sleep when you’re dead.”
“Knowing my luck, that’ll be in about half an hour,” I muttered, sitting up in the bed. “Status report.”
Gala Frosty smartly saluted. “Your new friend is making himself at home.” Great. Another addition to my increasingly unstable mind. She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “He’s a sexy, sexy stallion.” I blushed and hopped out of bed. Of course the rest of me would find him attractive if I did too.
“Anything else?” I smoothed down my ruffled feathers and walked into the living room. Drunk Frosty was still mostly passed out on the couch. Filly Frosty was playing with a little blue doll in the corner of the room. D’aww. Raider Frosty and Ice Storm were both sitting at the one table in the room having a hushed serious-sounding conversation. “What the buck?” I muttered, puzzled.
“Huh? What?” Gala Frosty noticed Raider Frosty sitting at the table with Ice Storm and not in her room. “Oh. That’s new.” She trotted over to them and cautiously poked Raider Frosty.
“What do you want?” she snarled, baring her teeth.
“Woah! Okay, just checking.” Gala Frosty backed off and stood next to me. “Sheesh. Touchy, touchy.”
“It’s going to be stabby stabby if you do that again,” Raider Frosty grunted. “Now, where were we?” she asked, turning back to Ice Storm.
“I say we leave her be,” I decided. “Last thing I need is a fight breaking out.”
“Actually hold on.” Ice Storm grabbed my leg before I could leave the room. “I have something to show you. Or more like something you need to remember.” He magically hefted his revolver and stood up. “You ready?”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I sighed. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Ice Storm checked his revolver for ammo and snapped it shut, satisfied. “I can distract the Warden for you while you look for the memory point.” He closed his eyes and an overglow lit up his already glowing horn. “I’ve put a marker over the building. Follow your Eyes-Forward Sparkle to the destination. Once you’re there, you’ll be safe.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what EFS he wanted me to use until it suddenly appeared in my vision. A second later, my PipBuck appeared around my leg. Oh yay, this thing followed me around too. However, I still didn’t understand what was happening. “Wait. Can’t you just use your unicorn magic thingy that you did last time?”
Ice Storm shook his head. “The only reason I could pull it off last time was because your Warden friend wasn’t aware of my presence. Now that he knows I’m here, my limited power is being suppressed. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t shoot at him.”
“Warden?” I asked, even more confused than normal. “What the buck is that, exactly?”
“Your little friend? The one that stopped your memory before?” Oh. He was talking about the Enclave officer that had complete control of my memories, if he ever got into them. “He keeps everything outside this home under lock and key.” He edged the door open and poked his head out. “All clear. Ready yet?”
“Will I need a gun?” I asked, staring at my suddenly-materializing saddlebag. “A big gun?”
“Nah. Don’t bring anything with you. You might contaminate the memory with anything you take into it.” He motioned me forward. “When I put my hoof out of this door, run. Down the street, into the square, and find the glowing memory point. I’ll do my best to hold him off.”
“Alright…” I agreed, unsure of what his plan was. “On your go.” Ice Storm calmly paced out the door and immediately the city turned a foreboding shade of red. “I know this is a bad time, but can we un-go? I just realized I might want to use the little filly’s cloud.” I cringed in the doorway in slight fear.
“Not now! Run!” Ice Storm yelled, sweeping his revolver down the streets. “I don’t know how long I can hold him off in my we—” He was suddenly slammed down an alley by a large steel panel torn from something.
“Well. That’s not good,” I muttered to myself, flying down the long street toward the square. A whistling sound from behind me gave me good reason to kick my wings into overdrive. I didn’t want to turn around to find out exactly what was following me. “Buck buck buck buck buck buck buck buuuuuuck!” I squealed as something clipped at my tail.
I dived and swerved around the wide street and finally lost whatever was chasing me by forcing it to collide with a wall. My victory was short lived when the officer from before suddenly dive bombed into the ground ahead of me. I banked around his little crater as he climbed out of it. “You are not welcome in my world!” he shouted at me. An obscenely loud revolver fired and the officer was flung back into his crater.
“Lead! It’s what’s for lunch, bitch.” Ice Storm jumped into the crater after him, revolver in tow. At least he shared my sense of humor. A vicious hoof-to-hoof fight broke out in the crater and he was launched into the air by a strong kick. “Let’s see you do that again!” he yelled at the officer, then frantically motioned me to keep moving before jumping back into the fray.
I made it to the square in one piece. Unfortunately I couldn’t see where the memory point was. My E.F.S. was telling me the memory point was in the square somewhere. “Where is it?” I frantically looked around for it. “There is no way I’m going to die looking for this damn thing.”
Ice Storm rocketed past me and smashed into a fruit stall. “Oh, you can’t die here.” He reloaded his revolver, munching on an apple out of the stall. “You’ll just become a prisoner of your own mind until a skilled memory digging unicorn can save you.”
“Good to know,” I muttered. “So, wanna give me a hint on what I should be looking for?”
“The hell should I know?” Ice Storm shrugged and dashed back toward his duel with my mental dictator. “It’s your memory!” he shouted, firing his revolver again. “You’ll probably know it when you see it!”
Great. Just great. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be looking for. I darted around the square, looking through random boxes, barrels, and drawers. I even resorted to staring at the mini-map while running around to find it. After a few panic-ridden moments, I realized that the memory point could be anything.
I dug through the first crate of imaginary apples and found absolutely nothing of interest. Maybe I was looking for something important? But what could it be? I turned around to search the nearby benches for anything that stood out. An explosion shook the ground and something behind me was reduced to kindling.
“Holy tits, this guy hits hard,” Ice Storm grumbled, apple bits leaking out of his hat as he stumbled past me. “Hurry up, would you?”
Easier said than done. “I’m trying!”
“Try harder!”
Just like that, something mildly shiny and nailed to a table with a knife caught my eye. It was a tattered, dented medal that had its embellishments violently scraped away. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t recognize it. I suddenly knew exactly what it was, exactly when I’d seen it. I closed my eyes and began to remember…
“Dad?”
<~~~>
“This squad assessment meeting will now come to order,” a bored voice intoned. I opened my eyes and found myself in a large, unfamiliar room. I was standing at attention in a line with the rest of my squad. To my left, Shadow Breeze and Dad. To my right, Tornado, Lightning Chaser, and Tiny Wings. Opposite from us, three high-ranking officers glared at us disapprovingly. The one in the middle had spoken, and he continued, “Would you care to explain what happened out there?”
“The situation needed to be handled delicately, and I proceeded as I saw fit,” Dad reported. “Unfortunately, the plan did not continue as planned, and my squad needed to improvise for safety, sir.”
The three officers conversed with each other. All of them were old and should have probably retired years ago. I didn’t remember their names, and they were all sort of grayed out and covered in a obscuring fog. Probably work of the Warden or something. “Somehow, we find it hard to believe you were forced to demolish a high-value target for your squad’s safety.”
I stayed at attention, resisting the urge to look at what Dad was shuffling around for. “Look, you bureaucratic snots. I don’t know what your idea of safety is, but I want to keep as many of my pegasi alive as possible.” He stomped right up into one of their faces. “You got a problem with that?”
“We do, in fact.” The officer shoved him backward. “Back in line, airpony.”
“Yessir,” Dad growled between gritted teeth and stepped back in line.
“You had a priority one assignment,” the officer on the right said. “Not only did you botch an entire operation, you destroyed our relations with a surface asset.”
“In our defense, he was kind of an ass,” Tornado pointed out. I stifled a snicker and attempted to keep a straight face.
The officers didn’t find that amusing at all. “Just because somepony is unbearable doesn’t mean we can’t work with them. And that certainly doesn’t mean you shoot his bodyguards with an incinerator.”
Tiny Wings uneasily coughed from down the line. “They were threatenin’ ta shoot th’ boss. I had ta think fast.”
“An incinerator? Really?” the rightmost officer asked sarcastically. “Where did you manage to requisition one of those?”
“Wif much difficulty,” Tiny Wings said proudly. “If ya know th’ right ponies, ya can get anythin’.”
“Gentlecolts, back on topic,” said the middle one (who seemed to be the one in charge, no surprise). “Which one of you will take responsibility for your failure?” I shared an uneasy glance with the rest of the squad. “Anypony?”
Dad sighed and assumed responsibility. “I’m their commanding officer, and I was leading the task force. The fault is mine. My orders were unclear, and I wasn’t focused on the op.” The officers murmured among themselves.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Sir, it was my fault for not relaying more accurate intel to the rest of the force.”
Lightning stepped forward and simply added “I was high.” I resisted the urge to facehoof.
Tornado also joined us. “I jumped the gun and started it.”
Tiny Wings admitted, “I dun goofed. Probably shouldn’t have burned them first.”
All of us glared at Shadow. “What? I just followed orders,” he blurted. The rest of us probably gave him death glares from hell. “Okay, I probably should have thought out the plan more before I agreed to it.”
Silence. “So, all of you are taking responsibility? Well, we can’t have that, exactly.” One officer mused. He turned to his compatriots. “Plan B?” They all nodded. “Ladies and gentlecolts, you have one option available to you right now. Voluntarily submit to a court-martial where we will re-evaluate your usefulness to the Enclave, and we’ll leave your families out of this.”
We kept our muzzles shut like good little airponies, repressing our anger and rage. Finally, Dad calmly said, “That’s not going to happen.” He took a step forward, and we all followed him in step. “You’d better come up with another option.”
“There is no other option,” somepony called out from a walkway. “Commanders, stand down.” The pony swooped down to the floor where we were gathered. The officers saluted at him immediately. The rest of us saluted only after Dad did.
“So, Harbinger, what brings you to our little meeting?” Dad casually asked. “Here to ruin the rest of our lives?”
Harbinger laughed. “So that’s what the grunts talk about, eh?” He circled us while we were frozen at attention. I didn’t really remember enough about him, but my fragmented mind told me he was really important in some way. “If these fine gentlecolts don’t have an appealing offer, maybe I can help.”
“Let’s hear it,” Dad replied defiantly.
“I have a high-risk job for you and your team. Due to the unfortunate demise of the rest of your task force, it only seems fitting to let you have a second chance.” My heart stopped. What? As far as I was aware, Alpha Two had taken some fire, but nopony had died! Bravo and Charlie hadn’t even been on task, had they? “You look scared. Why?”
“Wh–wh–what?” Lightning stammered. “All f-fifteen of them?” She dropped out of attention and collapsed onto the floor. “H-how?” Her hysterics kicked into high gear as her whimpering sobbing threatened to escalate into something louder.
I dropped attention and sat down next to her. “Hey. Shh.” I dug through her pockets, looking for the damn tin of mints she kept somewhere. I felt my hoof brush something small and noisy. I grabbed the familiar tin with the zebra on it and popped it open.“Uh… here, these make you feel better, right?” I held the tin in front of her muzzle. She picked one out and popped it into her mouth, giving me a sad smile. “Better yet?”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.” Lightning sighed and pocketed the tin again. She turned back to Harbinger with an angry glare.
“As I was saying, after a horrible Vertibuck crash, your entire task force was unfortunately wiped out.” He grinned, quite pleased with himself, and continued ignoring our horrified and enraged expressions. “I have a special assignment that will fix all of that.”
“You kill my team. You threaten us with excommunication. You threaten my family. Our families,” Dad stated, barely audible. He was pissed. Like, really pissed. Even though he was being quiet, the tone he was using made it just as effective as if he were yelling at the top of his lungs. “You expect us to fall in line, just like that?”
Harbinger was unfazed. “Actually, yes. Smoky Winds, I’m giving you an option because we used to be friends.” They went to flight school together, then? Must have been terrible, because Dad never talked about anything related to flight school. “For old time’s sake, eh?”
Dad glanced at us, then back to him. “Fine. What’s the op?”
“Simple escort mission. Finish the op, you all get clean slates. That simple.”
Shadow Breeze sighed. “Dammit, I like my slate.”
I inwardly sighed in relief. Good, at least the “Let’s put the frag mine in the officer’s latrine” joke wouldn’t be on my record anymore. Yay for me.
“Y-you mean I c-can go back into the med suite again?” Lightning sniffled. Oh right, I’d forgotten about that. She’d been banned from ever entering the med-suite when they’d found her passed out in a pile of painkillers and other assorted medication. Thanks to my slight experience in addictive substances in the Wasteland, it was probably because of her addiction to the Mint-als she kept eating.
“Yes, I can let you go back into the med-suite again,” Harbinger clarified. “A fresh start for all of you. Don’t waste it.” Lightning gave Dad the saddest face she could muster.
Dad grudgingly agreed. “Fine. we’ll take it.”
“Excellent.” Harbinger stomped his hooves on the ground happily. “The Vertibuck leaves in eighteen hours. I suggest you prepare your team before then. My liaison will give you the details later.” He produced a small medal out of his jacket pocket and proffered it to Dad. “Well, congratulations on your ‘successful assignment’, Senior Master Sergeant Smoky Winds.”
Dad wordlessly took it. “So, what now, boss?” Tornado asked. The officers plus Harbinger left through a door behind them. “Boss?” Dad continued staring at the medal. Tornado gave me a worried look. “I know I’m his second, and I should know, but does he normally do this?”
“No, he doesn’t,” I quietly replied, floating over to dad. “Sarge? Dad?” He didn’t react to my voice, which worried me. Tornado nervously hovered next to me. Somewhere behind me, Shadow was attempting to get Lightning off her butt and get a bit more presentable again. Judging by the sounds of arguing and whining, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Look, I’ll leave you with the boss. I’ll go figure out whatever… that’s about,” he said, gesturing at the scuffle behind him. “Regroup at the lockers later?” I nodded in agreement. “Sir.” He saluted at Dad then pivoted in place to yell at the rest of the squad, “Listen up, idiots. Clock out for five, meet at the lockers after for briefing. Got it?”
“Yeah. Later, sarge,” I distractedly mumbled.
Everypony else stopped their squabbling and saluted him. “Yes, sir!” They flew off through the other exit behind us, leaving me and Dad alone in the large room. A Raptor hangar of some sort, as I just realized.
“C’mon, Dad. It’s time to clock out.” He still didn’t react to me. I floated closer and rubbed his neck in some kind of hope that he’d snap out of it. “Are you coming?” I braced myself for an angry outburst.
Dad finally barked a scornful laugh. “Look at this.” He waved the medal at me. “This is my reward. Stupid, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“A monument to our sins, in miniature.” Dad went back to staring at the medal. “After six years of service, this is what I deserve.” He pocketed the medal in disgust. “That’s just great.”
“Let’s get you back to your quarters. I need to get some rest, and Luna knows when you slept last.” Ever since I was young, he’d habitually replace sleep with instant coffee and alcohol. “C’mon, Dad. Let’s go.” I attempted to nudge him toward the exit.
“Sleep is for the weak.” He snorted. “If you insist. Let’s go.”
A burning question popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Whatever happened to ‘the Winds never stop’, huh?” I asked more aggressively than I meant to.
Dad whipped around and slapped me across my muzzle. I recoiled, holding my hoof against my face. He pointed at me, anger in his story blue eyes. “Look, sugarpuff, we can’t win ‘em all. You’re young, and I admire your courage.” He deflated and continued, “Thing is, sometimes you have to know when to give up. Can’t win them all, sugarpuff. When you’re older, you’ll understand.” I was still frozen in shock and horrified by his outburst.
“But…” I finally stammered. My vision blurred with tears.
“Oh, Goddesses. I’m so sorry, sugarpuff.” Dad dropped his hoof and wrapped me in a hug. I collapsed into him and hugged him back tightly. “It’s just…”
“The stress talking. I know, Dad.” I wouldn’t hold it against him. “Let’s just get you in your bunk, okay?” I allowed him to lean against me as we walked out of the hangar together.
“I just can’t believe it.”
“What?”
He scornfully laughed to himself. “I just sacrificed fifteen pegasi for the lives of three worthless dirt dwellers. Whoopity bucking doo.”
<~~~>
I was pulled out of the memory by Ice Storm’s magic field. “That’s enough of that!” I had enough time to grab the medal in my teeth before I was thrown into the air unceremoniously. “Have a good time in there?” He ran along the street toward the cloudhouse where the rest of myselves was staying. I flew along above him, juking and diving to avoid incoming plasma fire.
“What the buck did you do to him?” I screamed hysterically as an electric green plasma bolt singed the feathers on my right wing. “He didn’t have a gun last time!”
“Yeah, so turns out shooting at him only made him mad,” Ice apologetically shouted back. “And whoever added him to your mind did not give a single buck about the rule of threes.” The rule of three? What? “Good news, I’ve weakened him enough so he won’t be a threat for a while.”
“Don’t you wish I brought my massive anti-everything rifle with me?” I had enough skill to fly upside down, but could I fire it while flying? Nah, that was stupid. If the recoil could break my ribs, firing it while flying would be spectacularly disastrous. Damn, would it look awesome, though.
“That hailslinger is nothing compared to my magnum,” Ice smugly replied. Well, somepony sure was very secure about themselves.
“How is that possible?” I cried, diving right down next to him to avoid a particularly accurate shot. “This thing fires, like, ninety caliber bullets. Yours doesn’t even clear forty five!”
“Firepower works in mysterious ways, sugarpuff.” He laughed. Wait, sugarpuff? “Almost there! Don’t stop running! Flying! Whatever!”
“Wait, how do you know—” Only Dad calls me sugarpuff!
“I was paying attention,” he simply replied. Raider Frosty opened the door and urgently waved us in. Even if she looked like somepony out of a nightmare, it was a relief to see her for once. “Just a little farther…”
A last bolt spattered off some kind of force field surrounding my house. Ice and I jumped in and Raider Frosty slammed the door shut behind us. “Cuttin’ it close, are we?” she growled with a hint of amusement in her voice. “You complete the objective?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I showed her Dad’s medal. “Got it.”
“Not talkin’ to you, dork,” Raider Frosty snapped. Sheesh, somepony’s got a cactus up her butt. Was I really this touchy?
“Calm down. Done, and then some.” Ice flopped onto the ground next to the table. “I need a drink.” He was promptly whacked in the face by a mostly-full whiskey bottle expertly thrown from the far end of the couch. “Thank you,” he grumbled to the room, rubbing his nose. Drunk Frosty waved back from her crater on the couch.
I glanced between Raider Frosty and Ice Storm. “Uh, am I missing something here?” The fact my subconscious was working with one of my other subconsciouses scared me a lot. “Do you want to share something with the class?”
They looked at each other and laughed. Did I mention how creepy I, uh… she was when she laughed? Like, it shouldn’t even be allowed to have that much creepy laughter in one spot. Even Ice Storm had a malevolent-sounding laugh. Raider Frosty finally caught her breath and replied, “Don’t worry your pretty little mane about it, filly.”
“Uh… ooookay,” I uneasily replied. Due to Raider Frosty’s aggressive nature, I decided to agree with her for my continued survival.
Gala Frosty strolled through the room and pulled me aside in one swift motion. “I need to talk to you. Privately!” she added, shooting a look at Ice Storm. Once we were out of the room and back in what looked like her room, she pushed me into a sitting position on the bed. Her room was simply covered in crayon drawings of dresses I’d designed for myself over the years. Other than that, there was the bed, a small nightstand, the closet, and a lamp.
“So, uh. What’s up? Feeling better yet?” I asked.
“A little,” Gala Frosty admitted. “But that’s not the point.” She addressed the rest of the room with, “Get your ass in here, right now!”
The closet opened and a full-blown skeleton fell out of it, tangled in his cloak. A skeleton had just fallen out of my closet. Okay, my subconscious’s closet, but hardly the point. “NO NEED TO BE ANGRY, GEEZ. COME ON, LORD OF DEATH HERE. CAN’T I GET SOME RESPECT?”
At first, the skeleton had simply alarmed me, but the second it started talking and identified himself, my heart froze. I simply stood and gaped, stunned into speechlessness. Nothing particularly witty came to mind. Don’t blame me for being shocked. Death himself just stumbled out of my closet.
All I managed to finally squeak was, “I’ve heard of skeletons in the closet, but this is ridiculous.”
If Death had actual eyeballs, he probably would have rolled them. “HA HA. VERY FUNNY,” he said sarcastically. Gala and I giggled anyway. “FOR A DEAD MARE, YOU’VE GOT A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR. OH, WE HAVEN’T BEEN PROPERLY INTRODUCED. CALL ME MORT.”
…Mort? Oh! Mort! This must have been who Filly Frosty was trying to tell me about a while back. If only I’d paid more attention! Wait, what did he just say? I abruptly stopped in mid-giggle. “Wait, what?”
“YOU KNOW WHY I SHOW UP,” Mort simply stated. “WELL, THINK OF THIS AS A COURTESY VISIT. JUST FOR MY LITTLE CONTRACTOR.” For the second time today, my heart stopped. I was dead? And what did he mean by contractor?
Gala Frosty gave me a what-is-going-on look. “Wait, what? Are we dead? Or are we, like, dead but not really dead?” she rambled, unsure of herself. “Is that what a courtesy visit is?”
“NO. YOU’VE GOT A GOOD CHANCE OF DYING. THEREFORE, HERE I AM.”
Oh, joy. “…Okay, uh, and what do you mean by contractor?” I added.
Mort seemed genuinely confused. “YOU MEAN YOU DON’T REMEMBER?” He searched our faces for a hint of deception. “WOW. YOU REALLY DON’T. WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD. THIS REALLY HASN’T HAPPENED BEFORE.”
Okay, that didn’t sound good. I sprang up and grabbed him by his midnight black cloak. “What. Did. I. Do?” I growled, taking a page from Dad’s book of intimidation.
“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH. YOUR TITS. CALM THEM.” Mort struggled against my grip. “LET ME EXPLAIN.” I released his cloak and allowed him to explain. “THREE WEEKS AGO, YOU DIED. SERIOUSLY.”
And cue heart attack number three. I gave Gala Frosty a sidelong glance and asked, “Did you know?” She shook her head.
“IF YOU MUST KNOW, YOU BLED OUT. MANAGED TO FLY A FAIR DISTANCE AND SURVIVE A GOOD LONG WHILE BEFORE YOU ATE IT.” Mort sighed. “I’VE NEVER SEEN SOMEPONY SO DETERMINED TO LIVE.”
“So what happened?” I pressed.
“WHEN I ARRIVED, YOU STILL HAD FIGHT IN YOU. SO I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE.” Mort threw back his hood and settled down onto the other side of the bed. A talking skull was a bit disconcerting, but I really didn’t expect less from Death. “WE MADE A DEAL. YOUR LIFE, FOR SOMEPONY ELSE’S.” Crap.
“Could we get the deal in its entirety?” Gala Frosty asked, voicing my questions exactly. “What did we get into, exactly?”
“UH.” Mort looked uncomfortable. “I’M NOT REALLY ALLOWED TO DISCUSS THE DETAILS OF OUR AGREEMENT, DUE TO THE BINDING TERMS OF THE CONTRACT.”
“Wait, why?” I asked, still confused.
“YOU CAN THANK DEAD LAWYERS FOR THAT ONE.” Mort adjusted his hood. “ALL I CAN TELL YOU IS THAT IT’S NOT SOMEPONY YOU CARE ABOUT.”
“So it’s a revenge job, then? Is that even allowed?” challenged Gala Frosty.
“KIND OF.” Mort got that uncomfortable look again. “THERE WAS A BUNCH OF FINE PRINT, BUT YOU’LL HAVE TO FIND OUT WHAT IT IS WHEN YOU RUN INTO IT.”
Well, that bucking helped. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the entire deal…” I realized. “I find it hard to believe you did this out of the goodness of your nonexistent heart.”
“I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW MY NONEXISTENT HEART HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. BUT YES, THERE WAS A CONDITION.” Mort sighed and furtively looked around the room. He dropped his booming echo and continued, “If you couldn’t complete the contract within two months, I would take the claim on your soul and somepony else’s of my choosing, and therefore remove you two from this plane of existence.”
Buck. “Who?” I asked, not sure whether I wanted to hear the answer. When I made that deal in the throes of death, did I really think it through? Did I sacrifice somepony for the sake of my own revenge?
Mort shrugged. “Can’t tell you. Sorry.” He decided to change the topic. “What do you remember about our deal? Besides what I’ve just told you, of course.”
“Nothing,” I huffed, crossing my forelegs. “This is new information to me.”
“Hm. That’s interesting,” Mort muttered. “What? Not my fault! If I made people forget their deals, then they wouldn’t remember to do them. Wait, that actually ends favorably for me. I should start doing that… Nah, that seems like a dickish thing to do.”
“If I could kill you…” I growled to myself.
“Fine, fine. I think I could make a slight exception for you in this case.”
“An exception?” I dreaded the response.
“An annotation to the contract, as it were. But I’ll give you a little liberty with it since it’s not exactly important and it’s a little out there. Just insurance for me, basically.”
As strange as it sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. “I’ll do it.”
Before the words made it out of my mouth, Gala Frosty immediately slapped me across the face. “No, we’re not. Always ask for the fine print,” she scolded.
“Don’t worry, I’m not like that.” When Gala Frosty gave Mort a scrutinizing glare, he flatly responded, “What? I was getting to it.”
“Fine print. Right now,” Gala Frosty insisted.
“Somepony’s been messing with some dark magic of the death-defying variety. As long as the ritual or amulet or whatever is still intact, I can’t see or touch them. I’d like you to find them and pass judgement. If you make the right call, I’ll add an extension. If not, well, I’ll have to take a bit off to make things right.”
I glanced at Gala Frosty. To me, this seemed like exactly what I needed to give me a little extra time to get everything done. The terms were simple and straightforward, and I didn’t really see anything that stood out to me as malicious. Of course, I was going to defer to my smart side first.
“I guess it’s as good as it gets,” Gala Frosty finally admitted. “You only do live once, yada yada. Just don’t forget.”
A scroll and quill materialized out of his sleeve. “Let’s see now… I, Frosty Winds, being of sound mind, blah blah blah… My soul for another, yada yada… Here we go.” He dipped the quill into his mouth and added a little annotation. “Special pending extension for one pending reaping in the near future. There. All done!”
“How will we know who it is?” Gala Frosty asked, just as confused as I was.
“We’ll know when we see them,” I guessed.
“Give the mare a prize! That’s the plan. Currently all the pieces are moving right where they should be, so once I need you… well, we’ll be in touch.” He shoved to scroll back into his sleeve and got off the bed. “Later.” And with that, he disappeared.
If I owed favors to any more ponies, I’d need to either need to buy myself some self-control or start making a list.
“So… wanna explain what Death was doing in your closet? My closet? Our closet?” I asked Gala Frosty. “More importantly, why the balls do I have a dark and edgy personification of death in here with me?”
She strolled over to the closet and closed the door. “When he showed up while you were out being reckless, Raider actively tried to keep him out.”
“Really?”
“I got him to teleport into the closet until you got back. And that’s Death with a capital ‘D’. He’s not one of us—he’s the one and only.” I followed her out into the main room, a few more questions answered. “So, what’s everypony else doing?”
Raider was still conversing with Ice, Drunky was still crashed onto the couch, and Filly was still playing with deluxe action figure Soarin. By the sounds of things, Raider and Ice couldn’t come to an agreement on whatever it was. “Hey! Klepto! Over here,” Raider yelled.
I assumed she was referring to me. “What?” I irritably stormed over there.
“How would you feel if I took control a little more often?” she asked. “I mean, I can get you through more fights, I’m stronger than you’ll ever be, and I don’t have my stupid emotional issues holding me ba—”
I shoved my hoof into her mouth. “Listen here, you. I’m only going to say this once. I own my mind, not you. When I need your help, I’ll ask for it. Do we understand?” When I didn’t get an immediate response, I roughly twisted and slammed her head into the floor. “Are. We. Clear?” She rolled her eyes, nodded, and made me reconsider the placement my hoof with an aggressive nibble.
Gala Frosty gently touched my neck. “This isn’t what we do,” she whispered into my ear. I begrudgingly grunted an affirmative and wiped my hoof all over Raider Frosty’s head. “There you go.”
“Sorry. It’s… it’s probably just the stress,” I apologized.
“We’ve had bigger things in our mouth before. It’s aaaaaaallll good.” Drunk Frosty giggled from the couch. I might have turned bright red from the implications of that. Filly Frosty only facehoofed from her spot on the floor.
“Really now?” Filly Frosty groaned. “So immature.”
A cacophony of noise erupted from somewhere outside. “I think that’s your cue to leave. Sounds like somepony managed to save us yet again,” Gala Frosty informed me.
“Apparently so. I need to stop getting killed,” I muttered, heading to the closest bed. “Almost dying is getting repetive.” I hopped into the bed and pulled up the covers around me. “Wake me when you need me.”
“You are so cheesy.” Gala Frosty smiled and patted my mane. “Now go to sleep. You’ve got bigger things to do once you get back.”
~~~~~
The second I regained consciousness, a wall of fuzzy numbness hit me. My face felt like it was a huge flabby pillow tied together with tape and painkillers. On that topic, my muzzle was actually taped shut with a healing bandage. At least my torso didn’t really feel leaky anymore—only kind of burny. “Mmmngh,” I groaned.
Pretty clouds… Could use a bit more color, though.
Focus.
But my faaace hurts.
Oh, stop whining.
A cursory glance of my surroundings didn’t really make me feel any better. I’d been moved between two tents, and it looked like somepony was standing behind one of them. I was currently lying on what felt like a makeshift stretcher, judging by the uneven cloth on my right side. A passing light purple unicorn mare noticed my losing battle with the bandage around my muzzle. “You’re awake! Don’t move, please. You might open your wounds again.”
I stopped struggling and let her fawn over me. “Mnh? Hmnph mnn uu?”
“Who am I?” she asked. “Well, everypony used to call me Stardust.” I raised my eyebrow. Used to? Stardust caught that. “You know, slavers and all.” Ah. That made sense. “I assume you’d like to say something.” I nodded vigorously and instantly regretted it as a massive headache slammed into me. “Hold still. I don’t want to cut you any more than you already have,” she said, levitating a combat knife toward me.
“Mpph!” I weakly protested. Most of me wanted to back away from the mare with the knife, but she looked so calm and gentle I couldn’t help listening to her. I still reflexively edged away from the knife floating at my face, though.
Stardust sighed and magically gripped my head. “Stop moving! I’m just trying to help.” I struggled a bit more, to no effect. The knife edged ever so slightly between my lips and sliced the tape portion of the bandages apart on either side of my muzzle. “There you go. I didn’t realize the blood angel was such a little filly.” She laughed to herself.
“You didn’ ‘et sthabbed inna froat,” I whined. “Ith ‘urts!” And my swollen tongue was not helping my speech either.
“So, how do you feel?” she asked with a smile.
“Bweh.” I felt like I’d been, well, stabbed in the face. “Why awen’t we in th’ tenths?
She glanced at a tent next to us. “Just an assumption that the outsides are probably cleaner than the insides.” Eew. Probably right on that count.
I suddenly remembered Rumcake. “What ‘bout my fend?” I urgently cried.
“Your friend? Your Steel Ranger friend?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded slowly as to not bounce my brain around too too much. “He’ll be fine. Allegedly his armor’s med-suite is keeping him alive, but I think he’s got a little concussion. Minimum. He won’t let me get near him.”
“‘Emme talk t’ ‘im. ‘Ow bad ‘s it?” I stumbled to my hooves and ignored the twisting pain in my gut. Ow. Ow. Ow. Of all the times to not use painkillers, now was a really bad time. I resisted the urge to barf and followed Stardust into the space between two nearly identical tents. Looked like the the slaves I’d liberated had helped themselves to the slavers’ armor and repainted them while I was in dreamland.
The second I set my eyes on Rumcake, I burst out laughing. He was on his back, legs frozen in mid-flail. “Frosty? Dammit, help me out here.” I continued laughing, tears streaming from my eyes. “Stoooop it,” he whimpered. They’d gotten his helmet off, at least. His pitiful expression only made it even funnier.
I fell over and shook in uncontrollable laughter. I finally stopped long enough to squeak, “It hurth’s to breafe!” And then I continued giggling.
Rumcake abruptly broke out into weak chuckle. “What the buck happened with your voice?” I tried my best to look angry, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. “You sound so adorkable!” Stardust tapped me on the shoulder and mouthed to me that she’d be waiting nearby.
“Thath’s wha’ you get for gettin’ sthabbed in th’ face,” I gasped. Finally I drew in several deep breaths. “Okay, I fink I’m done.” Good thing I didn’t have any lunch, because my stomach felt like emptying itself everywhere. “So how’th your legs?”
Rumcake glanced down at himself. “Well, I think I might have broken my leg. And I think I sprained my neck. Oh yeah, my armor shut down, too. How are you doing?”
I laid down across his torso. “Bweh.”
“That bad, huh?” He sighed. “I guess we should radio for help. You’re in no shape to fly, I can’t move, and we have a whole load of liberated slaves that are probably in no condition to travel.” I grunted a general agreement. We needed help. “You wouldn’t happen to have a working radio, would you?” He chuckled. “Worst. Date. Ever.”
“Bweh,” I repeated, coughing up something bloody. “I think I tore somefing. Ugh.”
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked me, concern in his voice. Still feeling kinda bad, but it was bearable. I nodded. “Well, I think I have a maintenance pack in my armor somewhere. In theory, you should be able to reboot my spell matrix with your PipBuck.”
“I think I fail’th arcane-’ech class.” Which probably wasn’t an understatement.
“Don’t worry. I can walk you through it,” Rumcake said with a laugh. “I can’t take you seriously at all. Your voice is adorable.”
Too bad my claw couldn’t pierce his armor. “I will wip you faeth off.” I pouted. “Hmpth.” I pulled up my PipBuck and flipped through the different options. Hunger began to gnaw at my stomach and brought my lack of cherry confectionaries to attention. Well, in my current state I couldn’t really eat them anyway.
The next whole hour was spent with Rumcake teaching me how to plug a PipBuck into a suit of Steel Ranger armor and the procedures on what to do. Apparently I was frustratingly bad at using pre-war arcane-tech anythings. After a few near-crashes and a spectacular failure that nearly short-circuited my own PipBuck, Rumcake’s patience finally reached its end.
“Just give me your hoof. By Celestia, I can’t believe you are this bad at it.” Rumcake cried out in exasperation. I shamefully reached out and let him see the PipBuck on my hoof. “Now, let’s see…”
“Thorry. ‘Old you I thuck at this,” I muttered. Rumcake was focused on the screen, scanning the letters for some kind of magical information that I obviously couldn’t find. “‘Ow’re you goin’ t’ use it?” I’d been poking at the little buttons with a talon with a little difficulty. With hooves, it seemed like typing on its little on-screen keypad was impossible. Rumcake didn’t even have his hooves free!
“Easy.” He reached out with his tongue and started tapping away at the screen with it. His tongue. “I have more skills than you think.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me. “Think about it.”
My face heated up faster than a laser gatling on full blast. Not to mention I broke out in a sweat somewhere more than anywhere else. “W-w-whaaaat?” I managed to stammer, trying my best to not drool. “I-I’m not finkin’ about it!”
“Oh, yes you are,” Rumcake singsonged, tapping away at the screen. “Your hooves are shaking. And your wings are all funny again.” Okay, wings, you can fold up now. Please.
“That’s th’ unsuppressed rage,” I stammered, still blushing. Fine, he was getting me riled up just thinking about it. Not totally my fault! Right?
Well, if somepony got herself a little actio—
Shut. Up. Brain.
“You’re so cute when you’re in denial.” Rumcake continued working at my PipBuck. I reminded myself to not punch him in his smug little face. “Aha!” His legs finally unlocked and his forelegs landed heavily onto my back.
“Ow!” Did I hear something crack? Hopefully not.
“Gah! Sorry, sorry.” Rumcake cringed in pain. “Ooh, ahh. Oh, that hurts.” A second later, he sighed in relief. “Yay, drugs.”
I squirmed around under his heavy armored hooves. Now that it was powered, his armor started to repair itself. Cracks fused and damaged panels repaired themselves. Coooool. “Anythin’ broken?”
“No. Doesn't feel like it, but I’ve been wrong before. Everything’s bruised for sure, dammit. Oh, now I don’t want to move anymore,” Rumcake groaned.
“‘Sthop whining. My everyfin’ hurts. Jus’ call for help.”
“Right.” He shoved his head back into his helmet and radioed in our position to whoever was in charge of the Steel Ranger radio post or whatever. After a long drawn out discussion, followed by an argument, followed up by some cringe-worthy pleading. “One of these days, somepony’s going to park a bullet in his face,” he growled, finally finishing up his radio call.
Unbearable, general hatred from everyone? “Thoufflé?” I guessed.
“Who else?” Of course. Who else. “We’re not supposed to go anywhere until he personally debriefs us. He’s steaming mad about all the mayhem that we just caused.” I had things to do! “Do you think you come up with anything to get us out of this?” he pleaded.
“I’m sure I c’n wing it.” Hehe. Wing. I made funny.
~~~~~
“Say ‘aah’,” Doc said, a pale blue glow still emanating from his horn. “I need to check whether that worked or not.”
“Aaaahhh.” I opened my mouth as far as I could. The moment we’d arrived back in town with our Steel Ranger escort, my first stop was to Doc’s clinic to fix my temporary speech impediment. My tongue had gotten more swollen on the way to back, and my basic knowledge of medicine told me I might have gotten an infection.
“Hmm.” A flat stick pushed down on my tongue. “Close enough.” The stick withdrew. “You can close your mouth now.” Doc tossed the stick over his shoulder. “This Stardust mare really knows what she’s doing with healing magic.”
“Really?” I snorted. “I didn’t realize.”
“Seriously, she really knows what she was doing.” I had to take his word for it, since I wasn’t exactly conscious for most of it. “Healing spells are hard.”
“Whatever. Everything good?” I moved my tongue around my mouth. My face felt right, if not a little sore. “The last thing I need is Rumcake making fun of me for the next week and a half.”
“Well, good news. Localized healing spell worked!” Doc jumped up and down with glee. “I can’t believe it!”
“I can’t either,” I added suspiciously. “What’s the bad news?”
Doc seemed puzzled. “Bad news? I guess stay away from really solid foods for the next, like, forty-eight hours?” I glared at him, and he shrugged “What? Can’t I have a moment without failure?”
“No,” Rumcake responded in his un-armored glory. “Hey, Frosty, I brought you a visitor.”
I craned my neck to look behind him. Lo and behold, Soufflé with his giant peaked cap was storming in behind Rumcake. “You better have a good explanation for this, Squire Winds.”
…I liked the sound of “Squire Winds” more than “science project”. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Okay, c’mon. Think, Frosty.
I got one!
Sweet. Go for it, Gala.
Gimme the reins.
Fine. The second you’re done, I want control back.
You got it, boss.
I’m not sure if anypony else noticed the slight elevation of my head, the shift in my posture, and the minute changes in my voice. But this wasn’t the violent haze of red like Raider Frosty. It was more calm, as it were. Like everything became more clear.
“Sir, let’s not be hasty,” Gala said, smoothly taking over. “I believe you are quite aware of your… unpleasant standing with the locals.” Soufflé snorted in what I thought was agreement. Or disgust. “Simply put, I have given you an opportunity to start changing that. Be a stallion of the ponies, as it were.”
“Get to the point.” Soufflé impatiently stomped the floor. “I’d like to remind you that I now have the proper authority to assign you to latrine duty in the event you wasting my time.
“As you wish,” Gala Frosty hastily agreed. “Now that we’ve effectively turned the only major hostile faction in the region into a large smoking crater, counter-operations and patrols can be reduced in favor for other uses of your Rangers. Maybe some PR? Luna knows you need it.”
“Do we really need public relations? I hardly care about what the Wastelanders think of us. We have a job to do, and I refuse to allow such petty things to get in the way.”
Gala slightly faltered, then swiftly recovered. “Think of it this way—now you can carry out your duty without needing to deal with those slavers anymore. ”
“Think of it this way,” Soufflé snarked back, mimicking my voice. “You took one of my more experienced senior officers on a high-risk operation with zero intel and no reinforcements. I’m sure you could imagine why I’m a little more than upset.”
I realized this, but it seemed that Gala Frosty had it under control. “And we considered this by bringing a stealth specialist with us. He did the recon, we carried out some sabotage on key structures, and got out of there with minimal injuries.”
“It was an unwarranted risk.”
“The ends justify the means,” Gala Frosty smugly replied.
“Hmph,” Soufflé dismissively grunted. “Fine. Your plan was not entirely asinine, but this will be your only warning.” His coat flared behind him as he spun around to leave. “Next time, clear your extracurricular operations with me and then we won’t be wasting our time.”
“Wow. Good work.” Rumcake observed as he watched Soufflé dramatically stroll out of the clinic.
“All yours, boss,” Gala whispered. Oh, good. She withdrew, leaving me in my familiar haze of confusion and pain.
“You say something?” Rumcake asked, coming closer.
I shook my head. Both as a negative, and to clear my head. “So, what’s next?” There wasn’t really much else to do. Even Doc looked bored since most of his patients had already checked out.
“You didn’t tell me how you got thrashed so badly,” Doc nonchalantly asked. “I just love stories.”
I shot a glance at Rumcake. We’d discussed it beforehand—Doc and Tabber were once squadmates or something, so he might take the news hard. “Uh,” Rumcake blurted. “Maybe—”
“Come on, tell me!” Doc bounced.
I sighed. “You want to know?” Doc nodded. “Fine. Your dear Agent Tabber suddenly decided he had his own agenda. Tried to tie us up with the rest of his loose ends.” Doc’s smile faded.
“The buck you do that for?” Rumcake hissed.
I rolled my eyes. “He was bound to find out eventually.”
When we looked back, Doc was gone. No longer in the room, or even the building. Just gone. “Well, what now?” I asked again.
“We need to do whatever Sleazy McCheapkins wants us to do. We have a deal, remember?” Oh right. Forgot about that. “Unless you have other plans?” Rumcake asked.
“I’m not breaking any promises now. Let’s get that over with.” I sighed. “I don’t want to owe Sleazy anything. I’m on a schedule here.”
“A schedule?” He cocked his head. “When did this become a thing?”
I couldn’t worry him with my own issues. “It’s just a personal thing. Don’t worry about it!” I mustered my most sincere smile.
“Uh… is it that time of month already?” Rumcake cluelessly asked.
I turned red and faceclawed. “No, no, no!” I flustered around trying to recover from that comment. “Uh, no it’s more like—well, uh… it’s a personal thing. No, not like that! It’s, uh—” I buried my face in his chest and screamed in frustration.
Rumcake was taken aback. “Uh… I’mma assume I got that completely wrong.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered into his chest. “Sometimes, I really want to punch you in the face. With my flaming power hoof of doom.”
“I love you too, Frosty.” He tousled my mane. “Shall we get down to business, then? I’ve got nothing better to do.”
~~~~~
“So, my little treasure hunters. Are you ready for your next task?” Sleazy rubbed his hooves together. “It’s important.”
“Let’s get this over with. Give us the details,” Rumcake replied.
“Ever since you moved in, trade has been picking up. And with trade comes guns. Now, here’s the problem: somepony’s picking off my dealers’ caravans in the past week. They make it to around here”—Sleazy pointed to a spot several miles farther from the slaver stronghold on the map stapled to his counter—“near the old downtown zone, and then they never reach their destinations.”
“So you think there are raiders out there?” Rumcake asked.
“It’s the more likely scenario,” I suggested. “They’re probably just waiting in the same spot for caravans to pass by.”
“Now, I need you two to recover the gun shipments. Feel free to help yourself to a few of them, but no more than three. I still have a business to run.” Sleazy pulled out an old notepad and scrawled a few things down onto it. “Here’s the full list of weapons, plus ammo.”
“And what if the shipments are being taken over by the merchants? Maybe somepony’s paying them off there?” I interjected. “I mean, this hasn’t been a one-time thing, is it?”
Sleazy scratched at the hole in his neck. Eeeeewww. “You make a good point.”
“So… what do you want us to do?” I asked, nearly failing to suppress my gag reflex.
“Eliminate with extreme prejudice. If somepony’s buying them up, then buy them back. With free, complimentary bullets. Courtesy of Sleazy McCheapkins.” He paused for effect, then deflated. “I need to remember to get my thunder noisemaker working again.”
“Anything else?” Rumcake asked.
“That’s about it. Oh, and bring back any bobbleheads you find, of course.” Sleazy smiled. “Any questions?”
“So… retrieve the guns, kill the merchants if they’ve gone rogue. Right? And acquire bobbleheads,” I summarized.
“Exactly! Now you’re thinking with power.”
Rumcake nudged me. “I’m going to go get my armor then. Meet you here in a few?”
I shook my head. “I need to grab some more… wait, nevermind. Yeah, I’ll meet you here later.” I was already in the one place to buy guns and ammo. Rumcake left the store, leaving me in the company of Sleazy.
“Vodcolt: You don't need to be a better shot, you just need to shoot more bullets! So, what can I do for you today, my little death machine?” Sleazy grinned, satisfied with the delivery of an obscure company’s slogan yet again.
“I need an upgrade.” I carefully placed the parts of my anti-machine rifle onto the counter. “I love the firepower, but I need some flexibility. You got anything?”
“Do I have anything? Who’dya think you’re talking to?” Sleazy scoffed, the gate to his armory popping open. “Come on in and let’s find you something nice, eh?”
After giving myself a few seconds to consider how creepy that sounded, I strolled on through the open door with Sleazy behind me. Curiously enough, more weapons lined the walls, floors, and cabinets than before in various states of disrepair and assembly. We carefully skirted around a haphazard—and very unsafe-looking—pile of what I assumed were mortar shells and to a pair of heavy-looking reinforced doors that I was very sure hadn’t been there before.
Sleazy sidled past me and unlocked the right door with a key he’d produced out of his neck. As I began to dry heave into an empty box, he politely held the door open for me. “Now, this—this is where true firepower happens.” He chuckled as I slunk past him.
The rest of the armory didn’t compare to this workshop. Weapon cases were neatly stacked in one corner, guns that I hadn’t even seen before were mounted along the walls, and a few more were in the process of being repaired on a few of the workbenches. Sleazy took up position behind the larger one in the middle of the room and placed his hooves on it.
I didn't even recognize some of these weapons! “Woah,” I breathed.
“Say no more! I know the way you think, my little sniper. And I know exactly what you’re looking for.” Sleazy strode over to the pile of weapon cases, and after appraisingly shaking a few of them, picked one and pulled it over to the bench I was standing in front of. “Say hello to the Steelpony Sights ‘AWpsy-Daisy’.” With a dramatic flourish, he undid the clamps on the case and flipped the lid off.
I opened my mouth to ask a question, but Sleazy answered it first.
“No, I have no idea why Steelpony wanted a whole division for specialty long rifles.” Sleazy gestured to the rifle in the box. “Anyway! Bolt-action, five round magazine, fires .338 magnum rounds. It’s been painted with a winter pattern, you know, since it’s part of the Arctic Warfare line of Sight rifles. This specific model has been fitted with a—”
As cool as it was, the last thing I really needed was yet another sniper rifle, even if this one used slightly more common ammunition. With all these other funny-looking guns liberally scattered all over the room, I stopped listening and instead began to idly browse the rest of his arsenal.
“…But I can see you’re a very special little mare that needs something a bit more special than this, of course,” Sleazy nervously chuckled, likely noticing my inattention. He slammed the case shut and nudged it aside. “Something ranged, too, of course,” he mumbled to himself as he searched the stacks of weapon crates.
There was a big monster of a light machine gun with the funniest barrel hanging on the wall that I was a lot more interested in, just because it looked really cool. “What’s this one?” I asked, making very sure to gesture just enough at it but not touch it.
“Ah, that’s an interesting one. If the label is to be trusted, it’s called the Discorderly ‘Champion Perforating Hydra’. Color scheme is supposed to make it look like a Hydra, but I’ve got my doubts. Thanks to Discorderly Corp’s unpredictable weapon designs, this one shoots standard-issue Equestrian Army combat knives for no good reason.” Sleazy pulled it down and let me handle it. “Since it uses runes instead of traditional gunpowder, it has a significantly lower rate of fire than other light machine guns. It’s what— Thirty, forty rounds max per box?”
After a little difficulty, I managed to pop the receiver open and stare down the belt-feed of knives that neatly sat in the attached box. “What.”
“There was a very good reason Discorderly Corp didn’t do well.” Sleazy took the ‘gun’ from me and remounted it on the wall. “And that’s one of them. Makes them quite rare, however—great for collecting. Maybe you’d like something as exotic as you are, hm?”
“Maybe?” I still wasn’t really sure what I wanted.
Sleazy chuckled again and motioned for me to follow him to a workbench with a mostly-assembled gun. “Exotic, deadly, and not quite all together. Say hello to the Sleazycorp Custom ‘Hail Queen Winter’ Support Shotgun.”
Even though it looked a little funny, it still radiated pure awesome. “Ooooh. I like the blue-white thing you’re going for on the paint.”
“Of course you would.” I couldn’t tell if that was Sleazy being sincere or sarcastic. “This bad filly packs twelve gauge slugs in a nine round magazine, perfect for support fire. She’s a modified version of a Vodcolt AutoAttack 24 with the barrel and dual mount stock from a PB&J Hazelnut Hellfire. I cannibalized the hoof-mounted grip from some Canterlot Excellence DMR, so it should be quite comfortable to operate. The scope is from one of the Vodcolt Sentinel-type rifles with a times six adjustable zoom. There’s space for an underbarrel attachment and a cup holder, for convenience.”
My jaw dropped. “What is this even for? Slugs are already blatant overkill—”
“The Hazelnut Hellfire was infamous for its stability and had an extended barrel because of its somewhat flawed design at the cost of fire rate, so I managed to tack it on with its built-in muzzle brake. After a few modifications, I turned this weapon into a sniper shotgun. Automatic, stable, and capable of accepting the AutoAttack 24’s twenty-four round drums if I can find where those went.” Sleazy scratched the hole in his neck. “It’s a bit longer than I’m comfortable with, but it can probably clean the flies off my ass at two thousand kilometers, so I’m happy with it. I’m still looking for a few parts to finish her off, but if you want her now I can go machine them.”
Suddenly, I didn’t really blame Rumcake for drooling over guns. “I want it.”
“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
I didn’t really have caps on me, and I didn’t want to sell anything I had with me at the moment either. “Bobbleheads. I can do bobbleheads,” I immediately blurted.
“Come on back when you’ve got them, eh?”
At least I had a new potential weapon, once I found another one of his stupid bobbleheads. “I guess that means I’ll need a resupply instead for now,” I begrudgingly sighed.
“Ah, let me show you my line of specialty ammunition as well! Lucky for you, not all the orders for Trotsworth Independent got shipped because of an unfortunate manifest error, aheh, heh, heh.” I judgmentally squinted at Sleazy as he continued to chortle uncontrollably.
As cool as it sounded… “I’ve got to dash. Maybe some other time?” I suggested.
“I’ll ring you up at the counter, then. BMGs, yes?”
“And some other stuff, too.”
“Let’s see what I can do about it.”
Footnote: Level up!
New Perk: Seamless Transition – You could say there’s a certain degree of skill to insanity. You can now swap sub-perks on the fly. Metaphorically and literally.
Current Sub-perk: Diplomacy – Remember thy Charlamane. You gain +3 to Speech.
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Was that a Halo 3 reference in there?
4259960
Maybe. Probably. There's tons of references to things all over the place, but damned if I can remember all of them. At least you found it!
4260003 It's supposed to be a joke. The guy's name is Sleazy; he advertises all his products as if they're the greatest things ever. 2000 kilometers is a hundred times farther away than the horizon (the horizon would be 20 kilometers away at a height of 100m, which is where a sniper would probably be positioned) so it's obviously not realistic in the slightest. Still talks about his guns as if they're a hundred times greater than they could even theoretically be. Because he's Sleazy McCheapkins!
Edit: Whoops, got my units mixed up. At 100m, the horizon would be 20 miles away, not km.
Tat pretty little mane line of raider, uh, Bain?
Also, I saw a soldier reference somewhere, hmmm.
4260917
You'd better have seen that reference.
4261332
Hey, thanks so much! Glad to know that this is as funny as I hoped it would be. Screw all that grimdark crap that other FoE stories come with.
Fallout is a horrible game. Call of Duty is the best RPG by far. Anyone who plays Fallout is obviously a console peasant.
4263756
Can't tell if really stupid or trolling...
Everyone in my state today.
4264013
Both?
Finally got my peepers on this, as it were.
I really like the interactions with her old squad, even if they're just memories. That shotgun makes me salivate.
Ooooh. A machine gun that fires knives! What's not to love?
(Sword-chucks, yo!)
And now Rum X Frosty grows Hotter and deeper!
And now I noticed how wrong that sounds...
So, just caught up on my tablet, and something's bugging me... That "Trottingham Assassin" Tabber apparently stole the orange plastic shutter shades off of, was a reference to Fallout: Equestria - Duck & Cover?
4281433
Good guess, but no. If I remember correctly, they're just orange-tinted sunglasses that suspiciously resemble the ones owned by a certain spy in a different place.
4281524
Shoot! Well, it's just as good a reference, I'll admit. Actually, I quite like all the references—they slot in nicely without being too obtrusive, plus I get a good deal of them—and I can only hope you continue this with your other stories! I can't wait to read through those too, when I get a moment.
I'm just waiting for Raider and Filly Frosts' to try snd manifest at the same time.
Well I must say this is a fantastic story that I'm enjoying very much. I love insane characters, especially one with voices or split personalities they talk to. That's always lovely. The parts where she's having adventures in her own head is really something cool. Oh, and I like Raider Frosty, her character is slowly turning out to be a little more than just, 'KILL EAT DESTROY!!!' But Filly Frosty is the best. D'aww, such a cute little filly. Finally caught up with this wonderful tale and look forward to seeing more soon. Oh, and we're fifteen (twelve whatever) chapters into the story and FINALLY get to the part about some sketchy deal she can't remember. Honestly dude, I'm not sure if it was a good idea holding that part off the summary off for so long. But hey, once some details were shared on her disease who cares? I wanna know what the hell is wrong with Frosty and if it's contagious. I can totally see the Enclave trying to make something to control people like little puppets, just like they did with Frosty during that intermission.
Ain't got much to say about the style or grammar, You're doing rather well here. With or without beta readers you're a great writer. There have been parts where I've thought about little details like her laughing while just moments ago she was suffering from even moving a tiny bit, but to be honest most of the time they're such small details it doesn't take away from the story at all. So there is room for some improvement, there's always room for improvement, but you're pretty on par with your writing and it's fantastic good sir. Especially your action writing. Very enjoyable. :)
From now on I'll see about reviewing each chapter, so long as you update and reply to me. Looking forward to the rest of this tale and breaking the chapters down. Good day and write on!
Quaver Ava
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You'd do that for lil' old me? Oh man, this is going to be fun for the both of us!
Although, yes, the deal is intro'd a little far in, I feel like it works a lot better where it is now. Introducing it a lot earlier made me feel like it was just being infodumed a la "Oh by the way here's some more random crap" instead of something feasibly in-universe.
Fun fact, the original version of the story references Project Horizons canon, but a majority of it has been phased out in favor of original-ish content. The nature of the disease is slightly different now, but it all still works out the same in the end.
4305056 I have yet to read Project Horizons so I'll keep an eye out to see what's what. And yes, I'll do it for lil' old you. :P
And honestly when writers reply back and socially interact with their readers, and if they've got good stories mind you, I'll gladly throw in a little effort on my part as well to give a little appreciation for those writers.
Them borderlands references. The 'Hail Queen Winter' is my kind of gun. Even with the Sleazy© embellishments.
It's like he took a pearlescent gun, stripped three other legendaries of their unique bits, and added em to the pearl. (*petulant whining in the background* "Now I want one...")
He is there to save you all by killing you!
“That which you know as Reapers are your salvation through destruction.”
-Harbinger from Mass Effect 2-
I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist.
What is juking? I think you mean ducking and diving, right?
Oops, you mist this one. The word "to" sould be the word "the". I've also noticed some small spelling/grammar errors in some of the past chapters I've read (including some of the revised chapters, I think. Don't quote me on that.) but for whatever reason I'm only compelled to point out this small one (and the juking one) for now. Odd, I must be going nuts or maybe I'm just tired.
If it helps, I could reread the past chapters again for you to see if I can find other errors to point out to you if you want. But for now, on to chapter 13!
Got any more Discorderly Corp guns? I have a thing for weapons that are awesomely impractical. Someone get me access to Sleazy's stock and a firing range!
Knife Gun!
img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130917065050/saintsrow/images/thumb/e/ec/SR4_Knifethrower.jpg/1024px-SR4_Knifethrower.jpg
I think I actually started tearing up when Sleazy was describing the Hail Queen Winter shotgun. Beautiful. I'd probably be able to understand it better if I knew which Borderlands-world manufacturers you renamed.
Lessee... Vodcolt=Vladof. Probably increases fire rate. PB&J=S&S which probably has more tech and ammo capacity. Whatever the heck "tech" is. Not sure what company Canterlot is. If I were to guess, Canterlot would aim towards the upper-class consumer. Only company that does that is Hyperion, and their guns are all about Accuracy.
Well, we already know the answer to that question is 'yes'. But lets see if this is talking about another time she dies. also, so this is the cahpter a certain person kept warning me about and saying they didn't like it. Time to see what's so bad about it.
Well, that was deep. But, Frosty being just to damn stubborn to give up, yeah I can see it. Though, still don't see much about the Wasteland changing her, at least in that respect. She hasn't 'given up' on anything so far, just kind of gone along with things as they happen. And she's only been there like, a week or so. Also, how does she know what she was like when she can't clearly remember things? Also, about grinding down your resolve.. Littlepip says hi. It only happens if you let it. Not that I don't see how that applies and how it is true for a lot of ponies, but, haven't seen it in Frosty at all.
Ohhh another one? Which one now?
Stallion!Frosty? Hmmm, well if the R63 is going to exist anyway, might as well make it official.
Okay, so... Ice Storm is in her head... but also the Mysterious Stranger.. does that happen to everypony with that perk? Is she the only one with it ever? Or is him being there just a result of her mind already being so fractured? He woulnd't usually exist like that in a ponies mind, but her's lets him? So many questions. Oh and why is Pyscho!Frosty out? (really don't like Raider!Frosty anymore since, that's not what she is. She's not Frosty's innermost beast, that part of her that would become a Raider if she let the Wasteland beat her down. Not the drives and needs and rage and pain that twists ponies into raiders. She's the result of some disease altering her mind. Not a Raider, just a Psycho. Also, odd of her to label her "raider" in the first place given she hasn't actually encountered any Raiders to know what they are versus just that Frosty being a Psycho.)
So, how would a fight between them even work? They are just parts of her mind, what would them fighting end up doing to Frosty's head?
Who is this!? Where did he come from!? How is able to bring back memories for her!?
So... ugh I have no idea what to say at this point because I have so little clue what is going on. Hopefully this explains some of it soon.
Well I had already figured that out. But why? Where'd he come from? And why didn't he show up the first time Noodle took her into her memories?
Navigating the city like that, memory points as buildings, all that. That.. kind of makes sense. It is all just her mind making things out into something she can understand. So that, is actaully not badly done. Just wish we knew more of what was going on.
(And yes having some mystery, wanting to know and keep on reading to find out, that's important. But it's also important for the story to make it clear we are going to get those answers, to keep on answering small things, even while asking others, and for to all feel like there will be some answer. Which given this stories track record with things happening "just because" is something I have a hard time giving it credit that it will do for everything. Her memory stuff, yeah cause that's part of the whole story. But Ice Storm? That I'm not sure about. Also, still need some hints, some things to guess at and try to work out, a few pieces of the puzzle given out. But maybe this memory will be it.)
Silly Frosty, you're a pony, not a chicken. but yes,
Hey this is Frosty's mind, it's her world.
And not sure that's a good thing....
But, she was told it was a building at first. So why did he say he put a marker over the building, if it's not a building?
Wow... why does THAT remind her of her dad? What the hell happened?
"No plan survives contact with the enemy."
Hmm, interesting. Or, is she just not able to remember clearly because she wasn't paying attention at the time?
Of course they do, Enclave leadership doesn't give a fuck about it's ponies, just it's power. Enjoy getting destroyed for that in a few years.
Wait, what? Who? Who the hell would they be contacting on the surface? Why? We know this is not to long before Littlepip leaves the Stable. Since it's after Calamity became a Dashite. Was Redeye starting his work on the towers and they were starting o prepare a response? No, they only realized what Redeye was doing to them after Littlepip tripped the alarms in the MAW hub. But they could still be suspicious of him and gathering forces to deal with him if needed. it's not wholly outside possibility, but would like to know more about why. And who.
I like him. Though, is that really the type of thing you want to say to an officer while already getting chewed out for screwing up? By you know, not letting yourselves be killed to save their larger goals.
Yeah, right. Enjoy a point blank balefire bomb asshole.
Okay I get the overall intent here but, the wording is just, really really confusing. How is it thanks to her becoming addicted in the Wastes that Lightning ended up doing that? you mean it was thanks to her experience she now knows it was likely because of that? Just, really confusingly worded there.
Why? How? Really want to know more about what's going on here. What was so important o the Enclave? Why did the rest die? What are they doing with so many troops under the clouds and nopony noticing them? How? one group like Frosty's sure, but a whole company doing things? Meeting with ponies? Who were they meeting with? How close is this to Operation Cauterize? They moved really really fast after Littlepip tripped the alarm, so clearly they had some basic plan already set up. Know a lot of what was going on under the clouds. This is likely how.
And nice view of how the lower ranked pegasi see their leaders, showing the breaks already forming, the resentment, the feeling of it just being wrong that will lead to many resisting the orders to exterminate foals in cold blood. So overall, while I'm a but questioning the stuff they're doing on the surface because, well, referencing that certain thing.... the overall look, really good view of Enclave life and really makes what comes later fit all the better.
Though is this 'special mission' the one they all died during? Well except Frosty? If so, that.. doesn't gel with what we already learned about the mission. Since the story already made clear that Frosty and her team were expecting just a regular recon mission, which at the last minute got changed into escorting the scientists. Not that they went in knowing it was some kind of special mission.
First,
Second, I'm with you Frosty, 
what?
Please, like your ribs aren't just one giant mass of fused bones and healed breaks by now anyway. And yes, that would be really freaking cool. Maybe get a recoil dampening mod for it like Spitfire's Thunder had.
AMR's are .50 cal. Also "this thing" implies she has it with her and it is right there, which she does not. Should be "that thing"
Yeah, even for you this is rather.. unsettling. Also, is Ice Storm part of our subconscious in the first place? What the hell is the deal with him? Or, is this more like Lash working with Id!Harry in Dresden Files?
It's your mind. Make her freaking talk and explain something for once.
................ oooookay, so..... now what?
Okay, the name was mentioned before. And, the all caps talk. Discworld reference? Now as to her knowing a grim reaper... ehhhh. not so big on that idea. Death as an actual anthropomorphic thing. Now the whole Reaper Ponies idea, hat rather works but, outright "Death"?
Roll credits
So, her memory issues have nothing to do with the whole deal with death thing then? So, they are because of whatever was going on up in the clouds with her acting as some brainwashed enforcer?
So she's been in the wastes three weeks.
So just any random pony she has to sacrifice, or want her to kill a very specific one?
Wait, how does Frosty get to allow him to kill some other pony too? And if he could just kill some pony at random, why does he need her?
I kind of like Mort.
Okay, so needs her to deal with some Necromancers that are keeping him at bay with, well necromancy, makes sense. Though what is "the right call"?
Try getting some more information on what might constituent "the right call". That bit is way to vague.
Ummm, WTF? Get that information! Know who you are looking for! Yes I know the story relies on things just happening but, relying on that is pushing it. Why the hell can't Mort give them any clue as to what the buck is going on?
This... I don't like. And, so easy to slip it into anoher realm that better fits with what is going on and with the setting. Not 'Death' but just one of the Reaper Ponies. Servants of death, but not in the anthropomorphic sense, no skeletal pony like Mort. Just, ones that see to the balance between life and death stays intact. It fits with what they are, and while Mort's personality isn't quite in keeping with them, but, hey it's a comedy, he's the 'special' reaper, like the Reject Rangers. (Yes I know the Reaper Ponies were just headcanon for Kkat, but, they fit a lot better in the setting and they make a lot of sense, and work for what seems to be needed here, while not feeling as out of place as "Death") Then again could just assume that's exactly what he is, and Frosty just mistakes him for "Death" himself.
Wait at first she was playing with a doll not.. a blue one... ohhhh oHHHHHHH! Very nice story. Very nice callback.
HELL YEAH! Now, while you have her like that, make her explain what the fuck is going on with Ice Storm.
Yes, but it leads to so much great times with the head Frosties. And now Ice Storm, seriously what the fuck is up with him!?
Like explain what the fucking hell is going on with Ice Storm?
See story, you can do subtlety
Can't really blame you. Also, can't find anything smaller then a combat knife to do that? Or just, you know, unwrap the bandage?
Oh, okay so that's why couldn't unwrap them. My bad.
"Blood Angel" there is a name with a lot of possible meanings to it and, you have not seen how big a filly she can be. And it's so damn adorable.
Ummm, you do have that healing potion you grabbed from the slaver outside camp. The one you beat to death with a pool cue. It should deal with your problems rather quickly.
So, if the armor shut down, how the hell is it's med-suite keeping him alive?
While it can be done, Littlepip needed a very specific tool to do it, which you'd only find in Stables or other places with Pipbuck repair tech.
Also this.
Need something stronger then
. that, was freaking literally make me burst out laughing hilarious.
So the story remembers that without power, his suit's med suite wouldn't work, so why did it say it was keeping him alive?
Frosty tried that already.
Or just, flip him off and tell him to fuck himself for being a arrogant, obnoxious, incompetent asshole.
Well, everypony gets a few times things go right, even you or Frosty.
And she has the lack of a bomb collar to tell you to fuck off and go screw yourself. Also, missing the last "
Well at least one of them remembers what assholes Steel Rangers are.
....... Huh, you know what.. he actually has a good point there.
Hehehehe, yeah that's totally fucking wrong but, well, he can't really deny it since it's how the Steel rangers feel.
But, okay, very nice job on that, he wasn't an ass just to be an ass, and he did have a good reason to be upset. very nicely handled there story. he's still an ass but, that's regardless of the situation.
How can they tell he's not in the building at all from there? How do they know he's not in another room or just out of sight? Also, well given his reaction to Tabber in the first place, can't think he'd be that surprised.
"I'm going to die within a month unless I kill some pony, but I have no idea who it is I'm supposed to kill or why." yeah hard to explain but going to have to do so eventually.
Bleh, also, that assumes ponies have a monthly rather then seasonal cycle. Yes no proof either way but, seasonal just feels better to me.
D'awwwwww
They're such a cute couple.
If they never make it to their destination, how does he know that's as far as they get?
Isn't that what your SMG is for?
"They've always been there." "Yes, but had they always been there yesterday?"
Well, that's one less thing for me to bring up. not sure if I should be glad the story is taking care of possible thing I could snark about. Or upset that it's giving me less to snark at.
........
... I... I'm going to be better off not even trying to think about it, aren't I?
I don't need to know any more to know that's what she's getting, just by the name. Also, Shotgun is exactly what she needs.
Why would a shotgun need a scope? The very idea is.. like.. totally counter to what Shotguns are designed for.
And... I can not be surprised at this given who made it.
Oh hey even Frosty realizes how ridiculous a scope on a shotgun is. I'm, just going to assume she's been dumping all her stat points on level ups into Guns to explain how she knows an of this now.
It is going to fail horribly and hilarious at that, isn't it?
So, well that went better then I expected from what i've heard.
Really my biggest issue is Ice Storm and what he fuck is going on with him not being at all addressed. Male version of Frosty representing some part of her, alright could buy that, but also being the "Mysterious Stranger" and able to exist out side of her body and save her like that? how!?
The other big part of course is the 'Death" stuff which, I already addressed, don't really like it as is, but could easily be made something better with a few tweaks, like I already went over. Mostly changing him from "Death" to just Reaper Pony.
And more looks at Frosty's life before the surface, and how fucked up the Enclave is and making clear why so many ponies would be so ready to tell them to fuck off. Really do like that part of it... the... other... hints and, well you know... not so much. But overall, yeah works, and the few details that don't would be easy enough to make work, once I know more about what is going on.
Not as good as last chapter, but still pretty decent.
Ah yes, quite.
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Adding to the dissymmetry!
It's probably just the airman in me speaking, but why are the enlisted airponies saluting other enlisted members? Other than that, I'm really enjoying this story.
I feel stupid for just realizing that Sleazy is a straight up rendition of Marcus Kincaid from the borderlands series. This story is pure joy to read, between all the references and the goofy character traits it just has a fun feel to it! The amount of borderlands references in this chapter made me nearly cringe. I have so much time in that game...
MarcusSleazy collecting bobble heads was a nice touch, reminds me of a certain arms dealer with a bobble head of himself...Sincerely,
A very content Yogi
p.s.- the sword weapon was amazing, reminds me of the babymaker BUT WITH F*CKING SWORDS!
Okay, I think I'm piecing this together now.
So apparently there was a job.
A diplomatic one, if what I hear is right.
only the other guy didn't want to be diplomatic.
that caused problems.
and those problems caused problems for the Enclave.
so they try and fire them.
doesn't work.
so the big wig comando comes down and offers a new way.
just go do a "simple" job that will get you all killed. Problem solved.
apparently it was a legit good job, though. Like, S rank shit.
still didn't make it.
Ashtray died. Freinds died. Frosty lost her left foreleg and then...
well "and then" is the question, is it not?
We already know that she was being manipulated before this incident even happened, though, and that she doesn't remember being "stuck".
Which raises a question as to why she was being used, and what for.
Bruh...what race was her dad again?
This reminds me of my sniper machine gun
black ops II: QBB LSW Assault rifle with force grip, FMJ's, and variable zoom/hybrid optics.
If I had my sights on you for more then 3 seconds, you would be one dead motherfucker.
Best part, the damn thing did the damage of a sniper rifle...as a assault rifle.
and it had variable zoom.
Yeah, only complaints is setting the thing to snipe a mofo from a perch, but then turning around and trying the same thing to some fool who walked up behind me without zooming back in for short range combat.
I got swiss cheesed as often as I made swiss cheese because of that.