Fallout Equestria: Operation Flankorage

by Kashin

Welcome to Flankorage

Fallout Equestria: Operation Flankorage

Chapter Nine: Welcome to Flankorage

“Thank goodness. Being a city pony is hard work. I‘m so hungry I could eat a h-”

I stretched out my aching neck, producing a loud series of cracks. Over the course of a few hours I had managed to grow accustomed to the distorted vision of my artificial eye, but the apparatus still easily weighed over four pounds.

Laden with half a dozen salvage filled saddlebags, I staggered out onto the top floor balcony of the motel. A stabbing pain coursed through my skull as I closed the door to the last room. According to BARON, I had to exercise my horn frequently if I wanted regain my full magical potency, despite the pain. Easy for him to say, he didn’t need to deal with what felt like a drill between the eyes.

I stepped out into the diluted sunlight onto the top floor deck of the motel, overlooking the rest stop. A respectable parking lot stretched out from the ring shaped building, flanked by the theater on the left and a magical vehicle service station to the right. The motel itself, the ‘Northern Light Lodge’, stood four stories tall and encircled a hot tub the size of a public pool. What I wouldn’t have given for a relaxing dip, but without a considerable source of magic there was no way to turn it on.

My barding chafed my hindquarters and cut off circulation to my extremities as I trotted down the stairs towards the lobby where everypony else was waiting for me to finish snuffling around. I had lost practically all of my possessions in the tunnels and while my fluffier coat was doing an admirable job of fighting the cold I was loath to run around the wasteland without at least the meager protection my last outfit had provided. A spare Boxxy Brown Moving Co. jumpsuit that Maple had kept in her bags was serving for the time being, but this one was easily two sizes too small. Unfortunately armored barding seemed to be a scarce resource in hotel rooms. All I had managed to dig up that could even fit me was a black tuxedo with a poofy, gold tie; snazzy to be sure, but not something suited to hiking, never mind combat.

I spotted Echo perched on the ‘Northern Light’ sign, a wavy rainbow with a star at each end, sharpening a set of ice skates. The Enclave pony hadn’t fared much better than I had in the equipment department. Aside from her two blue metal blades, she had lost all of her knifes during our flight from the demons and was making do with any item remotely resembling a blade that she could get her hooves on.

I raised my hoof to give the black pegasus a friendly wave, causing my jumpsuit to pull painfully tight in a very sensitive area. My involuntary spasm of pain sent me tumbling down the remaining flight of stairs.

“That is it!” I yelled as I untangled myself from my numerous saddlebags. “I can’t wear this thing anymore!” My struggles to escape my suffocating outfit were apparently quite amusing as I found Echo staring at me and chuckling softly to herself. “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled in her general direction, bowing deeply to stretch out my aching mussels. “I just live to entertain.”

“Oh!“ Flight’s voice came from behind me. The entertainer mare was standing in the open lobby door, blushing and half averting her gaze. “There you are.“ I had just mooned the poor mare, right when she seemed to be getting used to me.

I immediately snapped my rear legs under me and dropped to my rump with a plop, suddenly finding my own fore hooves quite fascinating… Actually they were. I hadn’t noticed before, but there were three sharp growths coming out of the front of each hoof; they sort of looked like little claws. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“He was infected by the ferals, his heart beat is supposed to be high.”

I guess I couldn’t delude myself into thinking I just needed a trim anymore. I was going to turn into a monster! A horrific, pony eating monster! No, no, stop that. I haven’t hurt anypony. I’m still a pony. I’m still a pony.

“Ocher,” the lime green unicorn said hesitantly, sitting down next to me and snapping me back to reality. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. Rosalyn is sorry too, she’s just too shy to tell you herself.” She rubbed her fetlock uncomfortably. “It’s just… we were scared okay? There are more false saviors in the wasteland than real ones. Trust me, I know.”

“How did you wind up with the Unity anyway?” I asked, discreetly shaking out my fetlock to hide my diminutive claws.

Flights fiddled absentmindedly with the ruffles of her battered dress. “My family works in the Crucible; it’s an entertainment town on the outskirts of Flankorage.” the green mare replied with something between nostalgia and regret. “They run a lounge, ‘The Stick and Carrot’. All my siblings work there as bouncers, barmares, entertainers, everything. We are quite popular actually, even among several groups of very important ponies, myself specifically… that was actually the problem.”

“It was a problem that you were popular?” I asked, bemused. “Isn’t that usually a good thing?”

“Not with some of the ponies I was popular with,” the unicorn continued, getting up and standing in front of me. “I was a game girl. My job was to make the customers comfortable and like me so they would drink and gamble more.” She pantomimed little flirting gestures. “The problem comes when they like me too much. I attracted the attention of an aristocrat pony from Manehatten, Bigwig, who was up north on vacation. He became a bit obsessed with me and asked me to come back to Tenpony Tower with him, but I couldn‘t leave my family so I told him no.”

She started pacing back and forth. “He didn’t take no as an answer,” Flights continued, becoming more agitated with each word. “The bastard tried to bribe me and even threatened me. Eventually he resorted to attacking my family. He hired some pony to rob us blind and then tried to cash in all his chips!” she was practically screaming and her nervous pacing had become furious stomping. “He could have ruined us, but he offered to pay our way out of debt if they sold him me.”

“They didn’t really have a choice,“ the lime green unicorn went on, all of her fury being replaced by morose resignation. “Anypony who doesn’t pay their dues in the Crucible become the property of the settlement.” She dropped back to her haunches and stared at the dirt. “We would have all been enslaved and the fate of community slaves is far worse than being a bed servant to a rich Manehattenite.”

“If you were sold to this Bigwig bastard how did you wind up in a Unity slave camp?” I asked as delicately as I could, shivering slightly as a gust of chill air blew through my shaggy coat. “Especially one that far off the beaten path?”

“Tenpony tower doesn’t allow slaves or slavers,” the entertainer mare responded, looking up at me. I fought to keep from grinning at the thought of a settlement that didn’t deal with sub equine scumbags like the Unity. “So he had them sell me to the Unity and planed to have one of his servants ‘save’ me and hire me on as an indentured servant; little more than a slave with a different title.”

“Hold on,” I said, standing and trotting over to my discarded uniform. The cold was getting to be a bit much for me to handle, and the padded vest looked adjustable enough not to cause me breathing issues. “Do you think we should stop by your bar when we get to the city, in case Bigwig finds out you got free and tries to threaten your family?”

“Thanks,” the lime green pony said, blushing lightly. “That means a lot to me, it really does, but they should be fine. The deal was for them to sell me to the Unity, everything after that was Bigwig’s responsibility. If he tries anything now he will be breaking his deal and will be enslaved by the settlement.” Flights stood and used her telekinesis to help me wiggle into my vest.

“But I could use your help on another issue,” the entertainer mare continued, magically adjusting my buckles. “While he can’t do anything against my family directly he can still do the same thing to other mares. If you could prove he robbed us to the Ladies they can make sure he doesn’t hurt anypony ever again.”

“Of course I will,” I replied, finally getting the barding to fit comfortably. My rump was still chilly, but over all it was an improvement. “Just one question; who are the Ladies?”

“The Ladies of Blood and Flame,” the unicorn said, waving her hoof in mock theatrics. “They were mentioned on the radio earlier. Anyway, they are in charge.”

“That sounds ominous. Not the most likable of ponies I take it?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Flights responded, trotting back to the lobby door. “They are both utter lunatics, but they are fair rulers…” the lime green mare put her hoof on her chin and chewed her lip. “Though the Lady of Blood has been acting strangely lately.”

“Strange?” I asked, pulling my numerous saddlebags back on. “I need to wonder what qualifies as strange for a pony called Lady of Blood.”

“She used to be very flamboyant,” the Crucible mare replied, opening the door. “She was creepy, but she just livened up any room she entered. Recently though, she has been more disturbing and almost reclusive.” She shook her head and stepped into the lobby. “Just… if you can find evidence, it would probably be safer to bring it to her sister. She’s the pink one, you can’t miss her. I need to visit the little fillies room, then I’m going to make sure everypony else is ready to go.”

I nodded and gently kicked the door shut behind her. As it would probably take a few minutes for everypony to get ready and do their business I flipped on the radio and tuned to ‘The Voice of Flankorage‘. It was bound to be depressing, but I was bad at waiting and without Icy to argue with there was little else to do.

“Beeeed! Ow!” a melodious voice bellowed from my PipBuck, accompanied by a dying fanfare. I had just missed a Sweetie Belle song, wonderful.

With a pop the fading instruments were replaced with R.F.P.’s measured, deep, rolling voice. “Good morning Flankorage. We here at the broadcast station have an exciting news docket for everypony today, but first, we here on the Voice of Flankorage team have a more personal message to share. If you remember a few days back, one of our brave reporter ponies went missing. We have received unconfirmed reports from a reliable source in the Frostborn Chevaliers that she is still alive.”

“You ponies deserve the whole story. Our reporter was dispatched down south to investigate a potential scandal. Unfortunately, during her investigations she was snatched up by the Unity and enslaved at one of their camps. Things were looking bleak for our newspony until that Merchant pony my colleague , DJ-PON3, brought to our attention arrived. According to our source, he some how managed to get all the slaves out of the camp before returning and exterminating the entire facility. Merchant, you have our thanks for saving our Scoop, visit us any time. We would love to have you. We are also legally required to offer our heartfelt condolences to the Unity for their tragic losses.”

My stomach turned in knots. On the one hoof I was overwhelmingly proud for saving Scoop, Echo and the others. But on the other hoof I had managed to get three ponies killed through my own arrogance and stupidity. I knew Icy would have said that if I hadn’t showed up they would have all been killed or worse and one had been beyond my help from the start. Unfortunately, logic did precious little to help alleviate my guilt… Hold up. Everypony who knew I was at the timber yard was either with me the whole time or dead. How in the sphincter of Luna did these news ponies keep learning of everything I did? Where were they hiding all the damn cameras?

“Now for local news,” the announcer pony continued. “Canterlot Caravans has postponed their shipments to and from the valley once again due to ‘logistical difficulties’. Many Flankorage industries rely on the supplies imported from the south and if Canterlot Caravans can no longer provide them many will be forced to turn to alternate suppliers such as the Unity. If these ‘difficulties’ are not resolved soon it could spell the end for one of Flankorage‘s founding factions.”

“Finally we have some rare news from further north in Zebra territory. Apparently the Merchant isn’t alone in the fight to protect ponies. A lone sniper has been disrupting Northern Legion supply lines and defending the Bassy border settlement. According to witnesses, the zebras have taken to calling this mysterious hero Penumbra and residents have begun using the moniker as well. As the sniper pony has never actually been seen we have been unable to get a statement.”

“This news segment has been brought to you by Square and Level Construction; we do it right. When we come back I will have Hunt Master Blood Moon in the studio with his top five salvaging tips, but first here is Ocatvia‘s Second to accompany the morning calm.”

“Hunts Master?” BARON’s borrowed voice scoffed over the soothing cello music that was flowing from my PipBuck. “Hardly; that one is little more than a glorified bounty hunter.” I turned with a start to see the armored buck standing less than a leg’s length behind me. I had to put a bell on all my companions… or actually pay attention to my E.F.S. “Your entourage is ready to go. We shouldn’t delay longer if we wish to reach the city by nightfall… Trust me, we want to be there by nightfall.”

“Right,” I replied with a nod, turning off my PipBuck. Twenty miles in a day, that shouldn’t be too hard.

*** *** ***

“Get down!” I yelled, tackling the lime green unicorn to the ground. A set off massive, jet black talons slashed through the air where the entertainer pony had stood not a second earlier.

The massive, black feathered bird swooped back into the overcast sky with a rumbling hum that made my teeth shudder. A rain of black-red blood sprayed from the dozens of small holes Maple’s shotgun and Grim Harvest punched through the creature’s underbelly.

“Find cover!” BARON barked from the middle of the highway, waving his hoof towards a pile of boulders near the tree line that Rosalyn was hiding behind and Scoop was using to steady her hoof cannon. “It’s coming back around.”

I rolled off the prone entertainer pony and pulled Echo’s sidearm from my barding and swung it up at the rapidly descending, house sized vulture. Slipping into S.A.T.S. I queued up four blasts of magical, liquid fire on the creature’s eye.

*Pew!* *Pew!* *Pew!* *Pew!*

Three of the blasts pulled low and splashed against the buzzard’s viciously hooked beak, liquefying small patches of yellowed bone. The fourth struck its target, boiling the volleyball sized organ and bursting it like a balloon. I couldn’t help but feel a stab of empathy for the half blinded monster; it made my missing eye itch. Shrieking in pain, the blinded raptor slammed into the asphalt, nearly flattening Flights and I with one of its flailing wings and completely burying the armored, hunter pony under its black, feathered body.

I hopped back to my hooves and scrambled away from the flailing mass of claws and feathers. Flights was already on her hooves and galloping to the boulders the two other mares, Scoop and Rosalyn, were firing their hoof cannons from.

A black streak shot down from the sky and skimmed along the vulture, leaving a bloody line across its back. Echo pulled up sharply and skidded to a halt on the opposite side highway, her tail braid soaked in the buzzard’s unnatural gore.

“I thought you told me birds were normal sized!” I yelled at the Enclave mare, swapping out my pistol’s spark cell for a fresh one from one of my innumerable pockets.

“I said most if the birds were normal sized!” the black pony replied, spitting her ichor coated, blue steel knife into her fetlock. “This one appears to be an exception to that rule.”

The crippled bird rose back to its talons and spread its hundred hoof wingspan with a booming thrum. The sound hit me like a solid wall, knocking me off my hooves and sending me sprawling in the dirt. My weapon didn’t fair nearly as well, shattering into pieces of warped plastic and twisted metal in my magical grip.

“Uuugh,“ I groaned as I dropped the wreckage of my gun and struggled to get my bruised legs back under me. One, two, three, four, yeah they all still worked; for the moment at least. Maple was bucking furiously at a crag in the road that had caught her shotgun and was keeping her stuck to the ground. Echo had been blown back off her hooves, tumbled off the highway and slammed head first into a pony sized stone on the side of the road. She barely avoided being decapitated by her own tail blade, but the nasty blow knocked the soldier pony out cold and left a bloody stain on the rock face. How I hoped she was only unconscious; there was no way I could handle another death.

The buzzard stalked away from BARON’s broken and battered body (I saw a quartet of his chrome, harness injectors plunge into his spine so he was still alive, but it would probably be a while before he was fully functional again), and advanced on the motionless, Enclave pegasus. Oh no you don’t. “HAY!” I bellowed at the creature, shooting a blinding beam of light at its remaining eye. I winced and staggered as the drill in my horn made another rotation into my brain, but I got the predator’s attention. “OVER HERE YOU OVERGROWN DODO! FOLLOW THE SHINY PONY!”

The predator shrieked at me and advanced on me at frightening speed, despite its awkward gait. I groped my barding for a weapon to no avail. I had not thought this plan out very well, but I was the only pony who was still mobile enough to avoid the bird‘s crushing, hooked beak. I immediately turned and took off at a full gallop for the tree line; at least it wouldn‘t be able to fly in there.

I plunged into the underbrush with the massive avian hot on my tail, snapping its pony sized jaws at my hindquarters. Thick brambles tore at my already failing legs and entangled themselves in my coat, continuing to scrape at my hide with every movement I made. I weaved between the massive trees with as much agility as I was able, but the vulture, despite its blindness, seemed to easily keep pace with me. I couldn’t keep running much longer. I was far from fully recovered and exhaustion had nearly caused me to fall twice already; one slip up would mean death. I needed a place to hide, quickly.

An enormous tangle of roots jutted out of a half collapsed zebra tunnel. I was loath to deal with those death traps ever again, but the forty hoof, predatory bird snapping at my flanks wasn’t giving me many options. I dove through the lightest patch of vines and scrambled as far into the hollow as I could. Hissing through my gritted teeth I relit my horn, but to my dismay the cavern extended a scant five hooves in either direction before becoming an impassible mass of tangled roots and rubble.

A roar sounded from behind me. I turned just in time to see the massive raptor’s enormous, yellowed beak smash through the layer of vines and slam shut mere inches from my nose. I scrambled back and pressed my back flush against the cavern wall as the creature’s head retracted.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps while I prodded magically for something, anything, I could use as a weapon. The head smashed back in, deeper this time; the roots wouldn’t hold it back much longer. Fuck! The closest thing I could find to a usable weapon was a slightly pointed stick about the size of my leg.

The predator pushed in closer, shrieking over its ever present hum, only four hooves from my underbelly.

Even closer. Three hooves away.

Closer. One of the major roots snapped, allowing it to surge closer and rip a shallow tear down my breast with the tip of its beak. It would have me on its next attack. I started building up a charge in my horn and floated up the sharp stick, blinking back tears from the stabbing pain it caused. The buzzard recoiled its long neck, preparing for its last attack. I was only going to get one shot at this and if I missed I was dead.

The beast’s head slammed through the last wooden barrier that separated us just as I set off my flare. I leaped to the side, causing the stunned beast to miss me by a hair and bury its maw in the dirt. Not wasting a second I slipped into S.A.T.S. and designated a single attack on my avian opponent.

*Squelch*

The beast howled through a mouthful of dirt as I bucked the wooden stake into its remaining eye. Got ya! Taking advantage of the creature’s agony, I darted out of the hollow, between its legs and through the woods, in the general direction of the road.

I heard another thrum from behind me as the tree I had been hiding under fell to the forest floor and the giant raptor pulled itself free. “Shit!” I exclaimed, pushing my legs as hard as I could. “Must run faster. Must run faster.” My brief, terrifying rest had done little to ease the strain on my burning muscles.

I burst through the tree line just as my front legs gave out on me. Careening end over end I slammed face first into a warm, sunset orange mass.

It was a unicorn mare in a heavy, black greatcoat, lined with pink fur and an oversized, black officer’s cap with gold trim and a large smiley face embroidered on the front. Standing on her hind legs, the militant mare was holding a well polished saber in one fetlock and a five hoof long, metal candy cane in the other. She looked down at me with a sweet smile that completely contradicted her imposing, albeit very pink, uniform.

My companions where nowhere in sight. I must have gotten turned around and wound up on a different chunk of the hilly highway.

The buzzard crashed out of the trees and onto the road, spraying gore from its ruined eyes and filling the air with a head splitting whine. The standing mare’s reassuring smile became a toothy, ear to ear grin. “I love my job,” she said merrily, wrapping her metal candy in a field of yellow magic to help her level it with the vulture‘s breast. As it passed my eye level I saw a riffled barrel on the front of the candy cane. Sweet Celestia! That thing was a gun, and whatever it fired was easily the size of a lemon! “Party time.”

*KABOOOM!*

With a deafening blast the buzzard’s chest blew in half, showering the highway with half cooked meat. I couldn’t explain it, but it smelled oddly good; I could hardly keep from drooling all over myself. I rolled to my rump while I waited for the ringing in my ears to stop and absentmindedly sucked some of the half coagulated blood out of my leg fur.

I was delicious! The seared blood was so hot, sweet and rich. It was making my mind go completely blank.

“Wooooo!” the deep orange mare squealed from the ground behind me, pulling my attention away from my delectable fetlock. Firing her weapon had blown her off her hooves, tangling her up in her massive jacket and sending her fancy hat flying to reveal a short mane of curly, red hair. “I adore party time.” She flipped back to her hooves in an impressive show of agility and floated a lime sized, bubblegum pink bullet down the candy cane gun’s still smoldering barrel.

“Who are you?” I asked the orange unicorn, wiping some of the blood from my muzzle with my highly absorbent leg fluff.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning to me with her softer smile and extending her hoof. “That was rude of me. I’m Captain Dawn Star, Ministry of Morale Field Officer for the 2nd Frostborn Chevalier Squadron. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Um… that’s a mouthful,” I replied, shaking her hoof and taking care to keep my claws hidden. “I’m Ocher Bullion. Thanks for saving me by the way.”

“Is there some part of covert operations you don’t understand ma’am?” a mechanically filtered stallion’s voice (similar to BARON’s but no where near as deep) asked from behind me. I turned and saw a unicorn, covered from horn to hoof in a suit of sleek, gem inlaid, power armor and a fur lined coat similar to Dawn Star’s (but with white fur instead of pink) seemingly materialize out of the underbrush. He was completely featureless under his seemingly visor less helmet and carried an intimidating, tubular weapon that occasionally sent sparks of magical energy arcing along his armor’s lines of crystalline inlay.

“Well, you’re no fun Dust,” the morale mare pouted. “Besides,” she continued, quickly becoming far more chipper and holding up her weaponized dessert. “If they wanted me to be subtle they shouldn’t have given me a Cannondy Cane to play with . Anyway, this is probably the pony we‘re looking for.” The Frostborn were looking for me? “Grey coat, black mane, tall, coin mark, probably woolly…” Yeah, that sounded like me, but why would they be looking for me?. “…The eye plate is unexpected though.”

“You’re looking for me?” I asked, getting back to my hooves. “Wh-”

“Ma’am,” Dust cut me off. “We have secured the others and await your orders. Several of them are badly injured and will need to be dealt with quickly.” The others?… Oh no! If these ponies are Frostborn they would attack BARON on sight and I doubted my friends would let some strange armored ponies kill our guide.

“NO!” I bellowed, planting my hooves on Dawn Star’s shoulders. “Leave them alone! They’re not-!” I was abruptly cut off again as a field of shimmering, white magic wrapped around me and slammed my face into the pavement. I heard a crunch and felt my nose shift out of place.

“Sorry about that sweetie,” the morale officer said, sounding as if she genuinely cared that I got hurt. “The lieutenant gets a little over protective of me sometimes.” She looked up at the armored stallion who was magically pinning me to the ground. “You can let him up. He’s not going to hurt me.” The soldier pony released me from his magic field and I sat back up, wiping a trickle of blood from my slightly misshapen muzzle. “Now listen up. We aren’t going to hurt your friends. We are only gathering you up so we can take you safely back to Flankorage.”

“But you don’t understand,” I protested, sounding far from convincing with my broken nose. “One of them-”

“Killed BARON,” Dust cut me off again. “We know.“ Damn it all, stop interrupting me! Wait, killed BARON? Had somepony killed him in the short time I was away instead of, well, SAVING ME?! “The Hunter known as the King informed us and offered up the mass murderer’s flank plates as proof and the other’s collaborate his story. He refuses to give us the helmet as he claimed it as his trophy, but that is his right as a hunter.” Oh that clever bastard.

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” I replied with a toothy grin. “You understand my fear about mistaken identity right?”

“Well of coarse I do silly,” Dawn giggled, tussling my mane. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I wasn’t empathetic. I’m very good at telling when a pony is upset, worried or…” She leaned in closer to me, almost touching her horn to mine, and her voice became far softer and more sinister. “when they are lying to me.”

*** *** ***

She knew. The smiley face pony knew The King was BARON. And there was no way that wouldn’t come back to bite us later.

Dust and Dawn had lead me along the road and met up with my friends; they were all a bit battered, but conscious and no worse for wear. Eleven more fully armored unicorns were encircling the group, all armed with pony length, magical rifles and equally large, gem studded lances. Scoop and Maple broke from the group and tended to my injuries despite the Chevalier’s protests, but Dawn Star kept them from doing anything rash. BARON was flexing and boasting in The King’s crude speech patterns to one of the soldier ponies who I assumed was a mare due to her relatively slight build.

Maple and I traveled mostly in silence, keeping tabs on the numerous conversations around us as the walls of Flankorage grew ever closer. The pony BARON had been chatting up, who was indeed a mare, was named Sara and was sickeningly receptive of the hunter pony’s crass advances. Echo and Dust argued about the particulars of Frostborn/Enclave treaties and rights, each spewing a slue of precedents that meant nothing to me out of context. The three wasteland mares (even Scoop to my burning chagrin) seemed to be awe struck and were fawning over the magical armored soldier ponies. Through the whole thing, the orange, morale mare blathered on about seemingly random subjects to whoever she was near, flowing seamlessly from one irrelevant topic to the next as her listeners changed.

The forests that filled the rest of the valley were cleared for miles around Flankorage. In their place were thick fields of fruit bearing briers tended by scores of agricultural ponies, single mindedly working the numerous farms. A series of buildings surrounding an enormous stadium stood along the northern edge of the clearing, all swathed in colorful, billowing banners. A staggered line of ruined, observatory like cannons overlooked the city from the slope of a towering mountain to the east. The cloud piercing, ivory spire I had seen from the Stable exit jutted out from an adjacent valley, just north of the guns, but the raging storm that had been orbiting it every other time I had caught sight of it was absent.

As the blob of bright clouds that passed for the sun on the surface vanished behind the western mountains we finally reached the ten story, steel wall that ringed Flankorage. A heavy, solid steel gate, easily large enough for a full grown dragon to walk through, stood closed at the end of the highway. Tall, grey, metal spires peaked above the top of the wall, peppered with tiny spots of light. One building towered over the others, topped with a horizontal, eight spoked wheel, five of which connected to armored zeppelins.

I stood there, jaw agape. I knew it was big and I could see it growing as I approached, but standing at the foot of the monolithic city made its sheer scale truly sink in.

“Come on slow pokes!” Dusk called from the base of the wall. She was standing by a barely perceptible door just adjacent to the main gate with a small, circular hole at about head height. “The city is closed for the night so we need to use a security entrance.” The officer unicorn floated off her cap and slid her horn into the opening.

With a surge of orange magic the door split and slid aside to reveal what looked like a mesh floored freight elevator, easily large enough to accommodate two dozen ponies. “Up we go,” the amber mare said, trotting onto the elevator. “unless you want to stay outside in the mud till morning.”

Everypony shuffled into the oppressively cold lift. The shaft was dimly lit with weak, pale blue lamps studded along the exposed, steel girders that supported the walls. The slot grating that made up the floor exposed a jet black pit below us, the meager lighting studs vanishing in the murk. With a flick of her horn the morale officer brought the elevator online with a hiss and a blast of steam. Maple and I threw ourselves to the grating as the platform shook and lurched upwards, rattling on its raw tracks. It felt like the thing was moments away from hopping its tracks and plummeting us all into a bottomless pit.

“I’m gonna die,“ I mumbled to my self and clamped my eyes shut. “I’m gonna die. I survived a hell spawn zebra and a house sized raptor, but this stupid scrap pile of a lift is going to get me killed.”

I felt a hoof prodding at my flank. “Ocher,” Scoop’s sweet voice whispered in my ear. Slowly opening my eyes again, I saw the reporter mare staring me in the face. “We’re at the top. You can get up now.”

I flushed and stood back up, keeping my eyes abashedly on my hooves.

A burst of chill air hit me as Dust opened the door to the top of the wall and trotted out with the rest of the Frostborn ponies. The top of the wall was obviously built to fight from; wide enough for five ponies to walk abreast, with a chest high parapets, studded with gun emplacements along the outer edge. Each weapon was attended by a soldier pony in white and green flack armor.

The Chevalier lieutenant stepped to the fortification’s inner edge. “Merchant,“ Dust said with a synthetic chuckle over his shoulder. “I think you will want to see this.”

I followed the armored pony to the edge and what I saw left me stunned.

We were overlooking a massive courtyard, stretching from the armored wall to the city proper a quarter of a mile away. The municipality was no where near as pristine as it appeared from the outside. The twisted, metal skeletons of ruined skyscrapers littered entire neighborhoods of rubble. Impact craters, from city block sized chasms to hoof sized pockmarks peppered everything. Despite the dilapidated conditions, hundreds of ponies roamed through the blasted streets.

Standing in perfectly ordered rows in the courtyard were easily over a thousand ponies. Every one of them wore the same white and green, armored barding, equipped with an assault rife battle saddle.

“We give our lives to Flankorage,” the assembled ponies boomed out in eerie unison. “Our beacon of light in a world of darkness!”

“We give our hearts to the ponies who call it home. For they are the life blood of the city!”

“We give our souls to the god princesses. May Celestia’s light guide and Luna’s shroud protect!”

“We are the Frostborn. The Flankorage First and Only!”

“We hold the line against the savage, the mutant, the zebra!”

“This we swear!”

Dawn Star trotted up next to me, her coat billowing in the wind despite its bulk. She turned to me with a massive grin. “Welcome to Flankorage.”

*** *** ***

“You had better hurry if you want your case heard,” Dust instructed as he trotted down one of the clean, metal corridors of Stable 116. The forest green, Chevalier stallion had removed his helmet and would have actually given me a run for my money in the charm department if it weren’t for the latticework of scars across his face; but then again we may still have been, even if I was wearing my stupid, face toaster. “The council is nearly adjourned for the night.”

We had been rushed to another elevator at the base of the wall that took us under the city. Apparently Flankorage was essentially a single structure, with the wall and all major buildings in the city connected to an underground tunnel system, all leading to Stable 116, situated under the sky port at the city’s core. A spell powered tram system ran throughout the labyrinthine, eleven mile long complex and we were whisked onto one (the Gold Line according to sign on the tram car) almost as soon as we stepped off the second elevator. All the soldier ponies save for Captain Dawn Star, Dust and Sara left us to attend to their own business on other lines.

At BARON/The King’s subtle prompting (via E.F.S. messages) I had Flights help me remove my robotic eye and replace it with a strip of black cloth from Echo’s tattered uniform; making an effective eye patch that actually looked rather rakish with my longer coat. Style aside, removing the apparatus was probably wise as it not only would cause problems if I needed to turn on the charm, but it could potentially expose BARON’s true nature to other ponies in the city. Captain Dawn Star seemed to already know and I doubted her team was as ignorant as they pretended to be so I just had to hope for the best with them.

While I was at it I opted to change into the fancy suit I had found in the Northern Light Lodge. Flights was kind enough to help me get the tuxedo sitting properly. The entertainer mare was quite good at fitting stallion’s clothes; I had the distinct impression that she either moonlighted as a tailor or her saloon job entailed more than just flirting. I couldn’t help but a surge of satisfaction at the little sneer Scoop shot the green unicorn as she pressed up against me to get my coat tails sitting correctly. I was quite aware of how petty it was and I did feel a bit guilty about it, but the reporter mare’s little show of jealousy was rather gratifying after her fawning over the Chevaliers on the way to the city.

Our mysterious patron had not only dispatched a dozen heavily armed ponies to retrieve us, but also seemed to have enough pull to get an immediate audience with Flankorage’s ruling body. Something was going on here and I really didn’t like it. Nothing was free, we just didn’t know the price yet and I had the sinking feeling that it was just going to keep getting higher and higher.

“So what am I supposed to do here?” I asked the verdant Chevalier buck as I cantered after him, making light clanging noises reverberate down the hall. “Is there any particular etiquette or decorum I’m supposed to observe?”

“Just stay quiet until your case is called,” he said sharply, turning a corner with an overly dramatic flourish of his coat. We followed him down a long corridor that terminated at a large set of oak double doors bearing, in gold paint, a trio of rings, connected in a perfect triangle. The dark wood looked terribly out of place in the cold, metal corridors of the Stable.

“I’ve been to council meetings before,” Scoop assured me from my blind side, nuzzling my neck fluff. “I’ll walk you through it. Don’t worry.”

“Or you could just let the King here do all the talking,” Sara giggled from behind me. The bright yellow soldier mare was still fawning over BARON like some fan filly, looking tiny next to the armored stallion, even in her magical plate mail. “I’m sure he could get them to listen to anything.”

“Don’t mind her,” Dawn nickered from the back of the group. “She has always had a thing for the Hunters. Thinks they’re romantic.”

“Well they are,” the groupie unicorn replied slightly indignantly. “They go out to battle savage monsters and seek lost artifacts, lone ponies verses the vicious, cruel world. Their just like the dashing heroes out of a fantasy novel.” The King? Dashing and romantic? Ha! That drunk Shrike mare from the ski loge had more charm while she was passed out on the floor, in a puddle of booze and drool.

“Cutie,” Maple said with a soft, sultry voice. “You’re a magic knight in shining armor. I don’t think it gets more romanticized than that.”

“I-I, but, you…“ the orange unicorn stammered, flushing and coming to a complete stop. “Cutie?” The security mare ignored her and trotted up to flank me with Scoop, flicking her bright white tail across Sara‘s nose as she passed.

“You just did that to fluster the poor mare didn’t you?” I whispered in the Stable mare‘s ear, fighting to suppress a giggle.

“Yeah,” Maple replied with a grin. “All that hero worship was getting on my nerves, but it is nice to know I can still make mares weak in the knees.”

“You’ll have to give me lessons some time,” I said, nudging her armored ribs with my knee.

“What?” the blue earth pony asked, placing a hoof on her breast in feigned offence. “And help the competition? Never.”

“Your companions will wait here,” Dust interrupted, magically opening the double doors. Beyond them was a richly appointed antechamber with cushioned benches and small reading tables lining both wood paneled walls. An identical set of doors sat at the far end of the room, guarded by a pair of Chevalier unicorns in elaborate suits of gold trimmed, jet black power armor with shining, magical energy lances built in. Over a dozen ponies wearing dress suits in various states of disrepair were crowded around the entrance to the next room and a few others sat scattered about the chamber. “You will need to leave you weapons here as well.” That last bit might have been an issue if I had any weapons left.

“Are you okay with this?” I asked my assembled companions.

“We should be fine,” Echo assured me, unpacking her cloud into a crude lounge and digging out a copy of ‘The Manehattenite’ from one of the reading tables. “The Frostborn may be many things, but deceitful isn’t one of them.”

“Besides, we have the gallant knight and Daring Do over here to protect us,” Maple chuckled with playful sarcasm, pointing to Sara and BARON. “Who would dare mess with us now?” The little, blue mare’s joke caused the armored unicorn to blush and sputter while the hunter buck simply ground his armored forehead with his hoof.

I nodded and made my way to the black armored, honor guard ponies; I was hardly in any position to argue with the heavily armed ponies. The morale mare walked next to me, nodding for the guards to open the doors. Beyond them where a set of wide, carpeted stairs. As I nosed my way through the assembled supplicants, taking care to avoid treading on their moth eaten dresses, I was barraged by a slue of complaints and criticisms.

“What is a woolly doing here?” an indigo, unicorn mare in one of the nicer gowns, a multi-layered, aquamarine dress with delicate lace trim, scorned, sticking her nose up at me. “Are there no standards anymore?”

“How did he get in so damn fast?!” a red earth pony buck in a brown, pinstripe jacket asked irritably, shaking a mixed bag of bottle caps and bits at the guards. Want the money. Want the money. Want the money. “How much does a pony need to pay to get swift justice around here?!”

“Please,” the slightly raspy voice of a small, brown robed griffin girl I had mistaken for a large pony pleaded. “The Zony district is in desperate need of increased security. The brutality these people endure is unacceptable.”

I pushed forward to the door. No telling off the pompous bitch. No drooling over the sack of money. No fretting over the standards of living for some ponies… no, zonies… What in Equestria was a zony? I had to stay focused. I had a Stable to save and only one real chance to do so.

“Ma’am,” one of the guards said from behind me. “You may not enter the council chambers at this time.” The two council guards had stepped between us and the little, blue news pony.

“It’s okay,” Scoop chirped, trotting up to the Captain and I and pulling out a small ID card glued to a worn notebook cover. “I have a press pass.”

“Nopony is allowed in without express permission from a council member or ambassador,” the black armored buck (At least I thought it was a buck. It was hard to tell through the voice modulators in their helmets.) responded flatly without even bothering to look at the little mare‘s credentials.

“You must be new here,” the reporter pony replied impatiently, sitting down with a huff and beginning to lecture the armored soldier as if he was just a little foal. “Here is how it works: We play your ‘rah, rah, go us’ patriotic broadcasts and you let us attend and report on state events. You have to let me in.”

“Oh just let her in trooper,” Dawn Star instructed the guard pony brightly as she floated off her fancy hat, sword and confectionery cannon, placing them by the door frame.

“Yes my lady,” the troopers said in unison, bowing their heads and stepping out of Scoop’s way. The little mare hopped back to her hooves and walked back up with her snout in the air.

“Lady?” I asked the soldier mare as the three of us made our way up the stairs. ‘…it would probably be safer to bring it to her sister. She’s the pink one, you can’t miss her.’ Well the smiley unicorn wasn’t pink… “That wouldn’t happen to be Lady of Blood would it?”

“Oh please,“ Dawn replied with a half hearted whicker. “Those ponies are insane. No, I’m the second daughter of Duke Morning Star; you’ll be meeting daddy soon.”

*** *** ***

The three of us emerged into a large room that was vaguely reminiscent of 114’s atrium. A shadowed balcony ran around the room, filled with silhouetted figures, most of them ponies, but some distinctly not (I was able to make out several griffins, what seemed to be an overlarge unicorn that would stand a full head over any pony, even a scrapper, and what seemed to be a hybrid of a pony and a giant, armored bug). Directly above us was the distinctive, half circle window of an overmare’s office with the Stable Tec logo removed and replaced by the same three circle symbol from the doors. Aside from the yellowish glow that radiated from the office above, the only source of light in the room was a single spotlight shining down on a lone table in the middle. The simple, wooden table had three ponies, two earth pony mares and a unicorn stallion, standing opposite a nervous looking earth pony buck in worker’s overalls. The four were arguing fiercely, pounding their hooves on the table, shouting and generally behaving like obstinate adolescents.

The morale mare directed us to a set of seats that I would probably have blundered into if they hadn’t been pointed out. I probably could have remedied the issue with a bit of light from my horn, but I had the distinct impression that becoming a floodlight would not put me in these ponies’ good graces and I desperately needed to be in their good graces. I set myself down as gingerly as I could so as not to ruin all the work Flights did to make me look presentable; though with the tuxedo and the stylish eye patch I thought I looked down right debonair.

Scoop plopped herself down next to me. “Now if you want to get anything out of these ponies there are a few things you should know,” the reporter mare whispered softly in my ear, waving her hoof towards the table. “Remember when I said that the Frostborn technically run the show here?”

“Yeah,” I replied as quietly as I could, cocking my ears.

“Well they do,” the blue mare continued. “116 was designed to study the prolonged effects of martial law, but once they left the Stable they found holding off the zebras, keeping wild threats at bay and managing the day to day activities a logistical nightmare. So they delegated the civil duties to the three most proponent groups in the city.”

“That one is Duke Morning Star,” she said, indicating to the unicorn stallion. He was wearing an almost pure white, fur trimmed robe with gold embroidery, making him look like a ghost with his ice blue coat and platinum blond mane. “He is the direct descendant of the region’s prewar noble, North Star. The aristocracy handles all foreign relations for the city. They generally aspire to keep their diplomatic allegiances strong and consolidate power back into the hooves of the nobles like in the days of Celestia’s rule.”

“So that’s the pony who set up the stupid ‘slavers welcome’ treaty?” I hissed back a bit more loudly than I had intended.

“No, that was his mother,” Scoop replied, shaking her head. “I am loath to say it, but the city probably wouldn’t have survived without it. Just remember, they are more interested in pride and power than ethics so don’t try to appeal to their ethics because it won‘t get you very far.”

“Anyway,” she went on, indicating to the better dressed of the two mares. This one was wearing a fitted, deep red suit that complemented her aqua coat and slicked back, orange mane. “That is Racket, she is the CEP of Canterlot Caravans and is in charge of Flankorage’s economy. I would say that she has more of a heart than Morning Star, but she will still put caps and trade above everything else. The Unity has hurt them financially so they should probably support any course of action that will bloody the slaver’s collective noses. The Unity still brings a lot of caps into the valley so they will be less supportive of anything involving open war or total expulsion from Frostborn territory.”

“And that last one is Lapis,” Scoop said, pointing to the last mare. She was deep blue, with a long, black mane and wearing a simple, but well crafted pink and yellow robe. “She is the current head of the New Ministry of Peace, you shouldn’t have any problems getting her on your side.”

“New Ministry of Peace?” I asked. “Didn’t the old one screw up pretty badly with the apocalypse and all?”

“They started out as a group of doctors, nurses and social workers who survived the balefire bombs,” the news pony elaborated with a flourish of her hoof. “They pulled the survivors together and cared for them until 116 opened again and now they manage all the city’s civic issues.”

“Any way, you are probably the last case of the evening and they have spent the whole day remembering how much they all hate each other so the councilors will be trying to wrap this up as quickly as they can so they get back to their own business. So keep it short and to the point. You should be fine.”

I nodded. Short and to the point. ‘Excuse me, these bastards invaded my home. Could you please come and kill them for me?’ No, that wouldn’t work. Something a little less blunt and whiny. Hmmm…

“Then it is agreed,” Morning Star announced, forcing me to focus again. His voice was little more than a whisper, but it reverberated through the entire chamber. “We regret to inform you that the Frostborn are spread too thin and our own security forces are otherwise occupied, so we cannot spare the horsepower to sweep the service tunnels at this time.”

“But my mares are dying down there!” the foreman buck protested, slamming his hooves on the table. “And everypony needs-”

Racket silenced him with a single gesture before pressing her hooves together in front of her mouth. “However,” she replied calmly. “We will provide you with an allowance of caps to equip and arm your workers or hire outside assistance as you see fit, but we expect you to remedy the situation. Do we understand each other?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” the stallion stammered, standing to leave.

“We truly are sorry about this,” the yellow robed mare said as the worker buck was walking past us.

That probably wasn’t a good sign. If they refused to even protect their own city’s infrastructure what were my odds of getting them to lend me a small army?

“I believe we have one final petitioner for the evening,” the Duke said, indicating to me with a sidelong glance. “Merchant, join us if would be so kind.”

As I rose to my hooves I felt something warm, soft and moist press against my neck, just under my chin. “For luck,” Scoop whispered breathily in my ear, making my knees turn to jelly and almost causing me to fall flat on my face.

The reporter mare stifled a giggle with her fetlock as I continued my short trek to the councilors’ table. Think about Wonderbolts. Think about Wonderbolts. Rainbow Dash’s perfectly toned flanks in a skintight jumpsuit. Damn it, gutter brain! Math! Math is good. Two times two is four. Four times four is sixteen…

“Please take a seat,” Lapis prompted, indicating to a cushioned bench under the table. I did as I was told. “So, what is it that you need from us?”

All right Ocher, moment of truth. “I come from Stable 114 in the southwestern mountains,” I said, mustering as much false confidence as I could. “We have recently been viciously attacked by a group of Unity raiders.”

The councilors’ expressions where unreadable except for Racket who was wearing a nearly imperceptible, devious smirk. The others in the room where far less composed. A collective gasp and a swarm of angry murmurs came from the collected figures on the balcony. I had an active audience. I could work with this. “They tore down our door and flooded into our home!” I continued, standing and addressing the crowd more that the politicians. “In the short time our Stable security was able to fight them they had caused a death toll numbering in the hundreds with several dozen more taken as slaves!” I paused for a moment to let my statement sink in, doing my best to look each observer in the face.

“It has been brought to my attention that, not only is this heinous act unconscionable, but it defies a treaty made with this city,” I continued, directing my speech back at the political ponies. “So I have come to beseech you to send aid to our beleaguered home. My people have managed to entrench themselves in the bowels of our Stable, but they can not hold off the slaver’s onslaught forever.”

“That is bold claim,” the pale noble stated calmly. “I don’t think you realize the magnitude of what you are asking us. Your request would force us to openly attack our most powerful ally.”

“But if what the Merchant says is true then they have already broken their alliance,” the robed mare interjected. “These slaver alliances have been taxing Flankorage’s moral center for decades now. We can not allow them to overstep the few safeguards we have in place to protect our ponies.”

“That is a lie,” a raspy voice called from the balcony behind me. I knew that voice. But where from?

“Calm down,” A raspy, buck’s voice said reassuringly. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

That was it! The Preacher from Gelwin’s recordings, the stallion she instructed to rip out her own daughter’s flight feathers. I looked over my shoulder at the slaver priest. An additional spot light illuminated an older, off white, earth pony buck in a blood red robe. He was completely bald with a jet black spiral tattooed between his bright yellow eyes, about where a unicorn’s horn would be.

“This pony is trying to deceive you,” the bald buck continued, addressing the crowd and pointing his hoof at me accusingly. “He is a vicious killer who has slaughtered the children of the Unity at every turn. This twisted stallion seeks to drive us apart with his malevolent claims of betrayal and subterfuge.”

“I kill your monsters because I watched them invade my home and slaughter half the ponies I have ever known!” I snapped back at him, building a flare charge in my horn. “And you have the nerve to call me a ‘vicious killer?!”

“We do,” a echoing female voice came from behind the tattooed buck. I nearly fell off my bench as the overlarge unicorn stepped into the light.

It was a goddess! A huge, winged unicorn with a deep purple coat, a long, golden mane that seemed to billow in some ethereal breeze and luminous, solid green eyes was standing next to the slaver priest.

“The Unity was invited to bring the glory an light of the Goddess to this dark and deluded Stable,” the demigod continued. Invited?! Goddess or not, what kind of maniac would invite a horde of murderous psychopaths into their home?!. “Give us until morning to gather proof of our benevolent intent.”

“As tempers seem to be running high and everypony is tired I have been instructed to adjourn for the evening,” Dawn Star interjected, holding a hoof to her ear and starring up to the office that overlooked the chamber. A lone, pony silhouette stood in the middle of the window, looking down on us. “You have your evening, Harbinger. We will reconvene at o’ five hundred hours tomorrow.” Lets see, that would put it about an hour after ‘sunrise’, probably figure in another hour or so for the councilors to argue.

“Agreed,” the midnight mare said as she stepped back into the shadows, her luminous eyes going dark.

So that was the Harbinger from Gelwin’s messages. This blasphemous demigod was the leader of the Unity in Flankorage. It was the face of the enemy.

*** *** ***

“Ron is going to be so happy to see me,” Scoop chirped, practically bouncing beside Maple and I as we trotted through the blasted, night streets of Flankorage. “Not only am I not dead, but I have a short report from this evening’s council, several new stories we can make into radio plays and I am even bringing him his new favorite Stable pony. Isn’t this exciting? Are you excited? ‘Cause I’m excited. This is just going to be so much fun.”

I gave my companions a rundown of my meeting as soon as I got back to the waiting room. As expected, everypony reacted with some mix of outrage and snide cynicism to the Preacher’s denouncement of my character. But when I got to the demigod’s ridiculous claim that they had been invited Echo blanched and quickly excused herself from our company, saying that she would see us in the morning.

BARON opted to take his leave shortly after the Enclave pony did, heading off to the Hunter‘s headquarters as soon as we got back to the surface (something about checking on his investments). Finally Flights and Rosalyn split off with Dawn Star to find some form of trustworthy escorts to take them home. The bar pony offered Rosalyn a job at the Stick and Carrot as the poor mare had nowhere else to go. Scoop suggested that they stay at the broadcast station until I got back and could take them myself, but the entertainer mare declined. (I could understand, I had no idea when or even if I would be back and she had been away from home for far too long as it was.) The lime green unicorn also took the time to tag her home on my PipBuck with an attached objective of ‘Stop by for a visit some time’.

The city streets where a mess of pot holes and crumbling cement lit by a combination of the few lamp posts that had survived the centuries and jury rigged systems that ranged from flashlights hung from buildings to flaming braziers. The buildings around me were a bazaar mix of ancient and recent architecture with crude, sheet metal shanties set up between dilapidated, prewar ruins and what looked like brand new construction. The few dozen ponies (According to Scoop Flankorage’s population was actually closer to ten thousand) that wandered the avenues actually made the streets seem more lonely than if they had been empty; serving as a cold reminder that this city was built for millions.

“Well, you have Harbinger sweating at least,” the reporter mare continued. “She usually just lets her creepy priest do all the talking. I haven’t seen her speak through one of her alicorns in years.”

“Alicorns?” I asked, sidestepping a small blast crater. “You mean that thing, that pseudo goddess, isn’t Harbinger?”

“Oh heavens no,” the news pony responded with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “That was just one of her agents. She overshadows them to act as her eyes and hooves in the wastes; you can tell when she is using one by their glowing, green eyes.”

“Then what is Harbinger really?” I inquired. “And for that matter, there are more demig-er, alicorns?”

“Tons of them,” the little mare replied with a hoof flourish. “Nopony knows where they came from, but they started showing up with the Unity.” Scoop trotted over to a slightly warped, metal bench and sat down. As for Harbinger herself, I have no idea.” Scoop stopped and shrugged. “Nopony outside of the Unity priests have ever seen her, but if I had to guess I would say she is a very powerful alicorn.”

“So these alicorns are dangerous I take it?” Maple asked as we joined Scoop on the bench. “Like feral demon dangerous?” I couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of those saber like teeth sinking into my cheeks and the taste of their burning blood filling my mouth.

“They are a different kind of dangerous,” the blue mare responded, getting into her ’story teller’s’ voice. “The Hunters clash with them on occasion, when their targets happen to be Unity slaves…” She paused, seeing Maple and my looks of utter disgust that somepony would assassinate a slave.

“… Oh!” the reporter pony gasped as she figured out the cause of our revulsion. “No, no, no. The Hunters may be a shadow of their former selves at this point, but they still have some standards. They will still kill bounties even if the pony in question is enslaved at the time, but most of the times they fight alicorns are during rescue missions.” Well that was something redeeming I guess, not a lot, but something.

“Anyway, back to alicorns,“ the little mare continued, fidgeting a bit. “According to the few Hunters who make it back from fighting them they have some sort of hive mind that makes them especially potent in groups. The only times the Hunters ever win is if they ambush the alicorns or hit them with guns built for fighting zebra tanks and dragons.” She shook her head and stood back up. “Unfortunately I don’t know the specifics, just wild tails about indestructible shields, armies that materialize out of thin air and other bits of melodrama. Anyway, we are almost home and if I keep going on like this we won’t get there till morning.”

“I’m just looking forward to being able to sleep in a real bed after all this time,” Maple announced, getting up to join the reporter mare. “Not needing to worry if I’ll wake up with a gun to my head would be nice too.”

“Yeah, beds are wonderful,” Scoop sighed. “All warm and soft even better if there is a very special somepony to snuggle up to.”

Four times four is sixteen. Sixteen times sixteen is two hundred and sixty nine ... er.. I mean two hundred and fifty six...

The broadcast station was one of the taller buildings in the city; while still dwarfed by the sky port it was easily thirty stories, not including the numerous antenna that sprouted from its flat roof. A cardboard box, slightly larger than a pony, with a ’No Running By The Pool’ sign taped to it sat next to the skyscraper’s entrance in a pile of old mattresses and empty beer bottles.

“’AY!” a gruff voice bellowed from the box as we made our way to the door. An off white earth pony buck with an unkempt, gray beard stepped out of the cardboard container shaking his hoof. He was wearing a dark green beanie, a tattered, green jacket, a pair of pants that were more patch than denim and a single, leather loafer. “Who ’er you three and what ya doin’ on ’ma lawn?!”

“What?” I asked, turning to the unkempt stallion and instinctively groping for my nonexistent weapon. Maple immediately dropped into a fighting stance and leveled both her guns.

“Don’t worry about him,” Scoop assured us, waving the security mare down. Maple complied hesitantly. “I’ll take care of this.”

The little, blue mare cautiously approached the ranting tramp. “I’m Scoop,” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable. “We’ve talked before. You gave me that tip about the Unity down south, remember?” That lunatic told her to go south?! He is why she got captured and enslaved?!

“Don’t be daft!” the off light grey pony replied irritably. “Of course Oi remember ye! Oi’m talking about those three!” He waived his hoof at Maple and I. “And, yes Oi may be the ‘lunatic’ responsible fer ‘er gettin’ snatched, but Oi’m also the reason you meet ‘er in the first place, Flufficus Pufficus.”

“I-er… what?” I stammered, perplexed. Had he just answered my thoughts? Maple obviously shared my confusion as her head had cocked a full ninety degrees.

“Now introduce yourself loike a polite pony,” the tramp instructed, gently shoving past the reporter mare and stomping up to us. “All three of ye.”

“Um… I’m Security Officer, Maple Sugar,” the Stable mare said hesitantly, pointing to herself. “And this is Ocher Bullion. You do know there are only two of us right?”

“A pleasure to meet you Miss Sugar,” the hobo pony replied with a big smile, loosing all hints of hostility. “And you too, Mister Fluffy Puffy. That other bastard hasn‘t introduced himself to you either, eh?”

“Um, my name is Ocher,” I replied. Up close this pony reeked of sweat, alcohol and several other foul odors that I didn’t care to identify. “And what other bastard? We are the only ponies here.”

“That one,” the grey pony said, pointing at me. “Right there.”

“Me?”

“No,” he said dismissively. “Not you Fluffy.”

“O-cher Bul-lion,” I corrected him, bobbing my hoof with each syllable.

“Fluff-y Puff-y,” he replied, copying my condescending tone. “It’s yer own damn name, get it roight. Besides, Oi wasn’t talkin’ to ye.”

“He is the only pony there,” Scoop said, putting her hoof on the filthy pony’s back. The hobo groaned and rolled his eyes.

Without warning the tramp pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. “’Ay!” he yelled at my raw horn as he batted it repeatedly with the back of his hoof. Every impact made my vision go white for a moment as the drill in my head rammed deeper into my brain. I arched my back and tried to scream but I only managed a squeaky gasp. “Wake up in there you magical bastard!”

“GET OFF HIM!” Maple bellowed as the vagrant’s weight was lifted from my chest with a crunch.

I got back to my hooves cautiously, gasping and fighting my light headedness. My skull still throbbed and my vision was blurry. The earth pony tramp had been bucked into the middle of the street and laid there, curled up and clutching his slightly misshapen ribs.

“Aaaaggggghhhhh!” a loud, arctic gasp came from the back of my mind.

“Icy?” I asked myself, still stumbling around. “Is that really you?”

“Ocher?” the frigid voice asked weakly and out of breath. “You can actually hear me? I‘m still alive?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. Scoop and Maple were eyeing me nervously, but not backing away. “What happened to you?”

“I don‘t know,” Icy wheezed. “He hurt me. The zebra actually managed to hurt me. Then when they broke your horn everything just went dark.” I heard his voice devolve into hacking fit. “The murk covered me and no matter how loud I yelled you never seemed to hear me. I felt like I was drowning, but I would never die.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“No,” the arctic voice replied, slowly seeming to regain his strength. “There is something very wrong with us, but I think we will live.”

“Good, good,” I said, nodding my head. I never thought I would be glad to be reminded of my stress induced madness, but it just felt lonely without him. “Anyway, I‘m glad you are back.”

“It’s good to be back, it truly is. But don’t think I’m going to be going easy on you because of this,” Icy chuckled. “You need somepony to point out when you are being a stupid pony.” I couldn’t help but grin at his statement. I knew he was going to be grating on my nerves in a matter of days, but for the time being I was just pleased to have my brain mate back.

“There y’are,” the tramp said, trotting back up to us with a bit of a limp. “It is about toime. Now introduce yourself like a nice, polite pony.”

“Who is this filthy vagabond?” Icy asked with disdain. “And why is he calling you rude?”

“I think thi-” I began to reply before being interrupted by the hobo.

“Oi’m the buck that got you out of your ‘murky, eternal drowning’ melodrama,” the grey stallion said in a mocking imitation of Icy’s voice. “And Oi’m calling you rude, not Fluffyus Maximus here.”

“Did he just answer me?” the arctic voice inquired.

“Don’t you talk about me as if Oi’m not here!” the tramp yelled at my horn irately. “Oi will not be!… Never mind. Oi’ve got something for ye.” the gray pony hobbled back to his box and started throwing more beer bottles into the street.

“Lets go before he gets done,” Scoop said pressing herself to my side to steady me and helping me to the broadcast station door. Maple followed, flanking me with the reporter pony. “I’m sorry, he has never attacked anypony before. He is usually just ‘that friendly homeless guy‘, but he is a good contact. He just seems to know things nopony should be able to know and has given me some of my best stories.”

“Yeah, I noticed that last bit,” I replied, doing my best to move under my own power. “He just had a conversation with the voice in my head.”

“Uh huh,” Maple said hesitantly. “So the voice is back then?”

“He is,” I responded, nodding to her. “But he seems to be a little less leave them all behindey now.”

“We might want to hustle,” the little, reporter pony interjected, oddly unfazed by my news of hobo/crazy interaction. “Trust me, you don‘t want whatever he wants to give you. I‘ve gotten a few rocks, empty bottles and an old shoe.”

“AVAY!” the ragged buck’s voice boomed from behind me. Was the tramp speaking Zebra? “TRUE TO FLUFFY PUFFY!” I turned back to the homeless pony just in time to see a shiny, round object flying at my face and slam into the tip of my fragile horn.

With an agonizing crack everything went white.

*** *** ***

“Ugh,” I moaned, waving my hoof to ward off a horrible stench that seemed to be smothering me. My clawed hoof contacted something soft, scratchy and greasy in front of my face. I slowly opened my eyes to see the homeless pony’s face scant inches from my own with my hoof pressed against his beard.

“Well then,” the tramp growled ominously, pressing his nose against my own and narrowing his eyes.

I started charging my horn for a flair and magically probing around in his chest for his heart.

“Oi‘m goin to go and get mesel’ a sandwich,” he continued, becoming cheery again and smiling from ear to ear. The vagrant buck got off me and trotted to a doorway where Scoop was waiting for him. “Cheery-bye!” He waved and cantered off, past the reporter mare without another word.

“I-I-” I said flummoxed and sitting up. I was in a green room with a beige carpet, a little bigger than my own, that had obviously once been an office for a very important pony. The entire south (according to my E.F.S.) wall was a single window with a breathtaking view of the torch lit city, with the fully illuminated sky port standing jutting from the center. The doorway that the little, news pony was in was situated between two humongous bulletin boards, coated with photos, magazine pages and miscellaneous scraps of paper. A fairly posh, princess sized bed with red, flannel sheets sat opposite Scoop, between the window and a doorless bathroom. My barding was folded neatly at the foot of a dresser on the other side of the room.

“Sorry about that,” Scoop apologized, entering the room, shedding her own clothing and tossing it to the side as she went. An intoxicating sent hit me as soon as she unzipped her jacket, nearly making the world spin again; a pleasant change from the stink of the vagrant pony that still clung to my coat. “He didn’t mean to hurt you. He actually felt so bad about it that he offered to help Maple carry you up here to my room.”

“Oh, this is your room,” I said, slowly releasing the magic from my horn. I hadn’t been in a mare’s room in years; Primrose usually came over to my place. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem,” she replied, kicking off her last leg warmer. “It is too late to take you to Ron tonight. If I did he would keep you up all night swapping stories. So I‘ve shown Maple to her room for the night; one of the suites we have set up for guests. We only had one room available that wasn’t filled with radroaches so you will be staying with me tonight.” I’ll be spending the night with her. Be a gentlecolt, be a gentlecolt.

The little mare trotted into the bathroom and turned the bathtub’s hot water fully on. “Though I will be damned if I let you get hobo stink all over my bed,” she said, fiddling with the temperature knobs. “But, while I have been saving my rations, I only have enough water and power credits for one bath right now.”

“That’s okay,” I replied forlornly. So much for sleeping in a bed. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. The carpet looks comfortable enough.”

“Well you don’t need to,” the blue news mare said almost timidly, poking her head back out and looking at me from through her midnight blue bangs. “We could always share the bath… if you want to that is.”

“I‘d love to!” I replied brightly, hopping to my hooves. I took a deep breath and dialled back my enthusiasm. I didn’t want to seem desperate or over excited. “I’ll be there in just a moment.”

I heard her slip into the tub with slosh, sending a cloud of steam that smelled of a sweet mixture of soap and mare that made my spine tingle. Oh Celestia, I hoped the parts of my implant that was still attached was waterproof. “Now Icy,” I mumbled to myself. “I don’t want to hear a peep out of you until I say otherwise. Understand?”

“You don‘t want pointers?” he responded snidely.

“Icy,” I cautioned with a low rumble.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” the cold voice reassured me. “I’ll keep quiet. Think of it as a head warming gift.”

*** *** ***

I stretched out in the red, flannel sheets as the first morning glow percolated through the cloud curtain. My freshly cleaned coat was fluffed out in a full body bed head, probably making me look like some sort of grey pompom with legs. I could have just laid there forever, everything was so cozy, soft and sweet smelling. I looked down at the little blue mare that was curled up against my breast, breathing softly into my chest fluff. Her cheeks were flushed and her midnight blue mane was tangled with my own fur.

“Ungh,” I moaned lightly. The council would be making its decision soon and I was supposed to go meet with Ron first. Scoop let out a squeaky yawn and pressed her face against my neck, purring softly with a serene smile.

“They can wait a while,” I whispered, wrapping my self back around the soft, silky body of the diminutive, reporter mare. My own very special somepony.

Footnote: Level Up
New Perk: -- .Stable Shot -Your attacks are smooth, graceful and precise. You have a higher chance to score a critical hit on an opponent in combat, equivalent to 5 extra points of Luck.

This is a story based off the magnificent work of Kkat (Fallout Equestria)

(Special thanks to A friendly Hobo, DiceArt, No One, Otherunicorn and tosxychor for helping me go over this and making it as good as it could be. And to all the good folks at Fallout: Equestria Side Stories Compilation)

Comments

[Damhoof]

love the perk :3

[The Magister]

Weee more Flankorage. I think I can guess where the idea for the hobo pony came from :)

[NeverKnown]

Ocher & Scoop Wooot ^^

[UnintentionalMishap]

AWWWWWWWWWWWWW YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH

more Flankorage

[Satch]

Was a rather good chapter. To tired to make a proper reply, but was quite well paced. Brought up a few questions about Baron thou. As well as speculations, nothing special xP