Fallout Equestria: S.T.A.L.K.E.R

by aegishailstorm

Chapter 31: Ties

Chapter 31: Ties

Twenty Four hours later...

Nikolai led the six equines down the road at a low, steady pace. Off in the distance- but growing ever so steadily closer, Canterlot glowed like an eerie toxic lighthouse beacon. It was a constant measurement of The Stalker's progress towards his end goal. First up on his itinerary was to create a proper itinerary of a route to Canterlot, a to do list. Something that he was determined to accomplish as soon as they made it to their next semi-civilized town or settlement. He had taken to calling the little filly they had come across, that being Potato Sack by the Ukrainian equal of her name. Much to the amusement of her parents.

"мішок, or 'Mishok'."

Something that he was quick to explain his traveling companions all the same. He found it humorous, if even a bit cheesy, something that he did not mind. Their first night out and away from Prairie City had been spent almost entirely underneath a surprisingly clean defunct highway overpass. Unsurprisingly, the family didn't mind it after what they had been through. Just hours earlier they had buried their daughter at the top of the ridge overlooking Prairie City with Nikolai's given condolences. Death was natural, and for a Stalker used to watching people get dismembered in revolting, mind breaking, Lovecraftian ways, it was almost a peaceful respite. He hadn't known the mare. But he waited for the family to finish before taking them northeast.

"You know..." Nikolai began. "I would really to be able to hook radio up to PDA. It would be delightful to know be able to switch channels through means other than spinning knob or imputing frequency through buttons."

This wisecrack elicited a slight reprimand from Willow: "Nikolai, I don't even have the luxury of buttons. I don't have any technology- Spell bound or otherwise, to mention. You're the only in the group with any of the sort."

The Thestral laughed at his own quip, and was met with a laugh of pure consignment from his Stalker companion. Nikolai knew all too well that he would have to find the both of his friends radios at some point. Hand/hoof signals and slurred shouting could only get a trio headed by a burgeoning Wasteland Cap Mafia moss so far.

"I don' believe that I've asked, but how do you three get along so well?"

"Well," The Stalker began, "That is... Fantastic question. Is matter of chance, loyalty perhaps? I make friend easy!"

This statement elicited nods of affirmation of his companions. "Well, he's certainly right about that." Flashpoint began. "He has what most of the ponies that I have met lacked, as silly as it might seem... Compassion." The Stalker laughed under his mask.

The Stalker held himself back for a brief moment so as to be able to give his Zebra friend an affirmative pat on the head. "Why than you for words of praise. But- It really is not that difficult. You just behave with manners, not hard! Hard for folks that shoot at me, and eat ponies for fun, but civilized... Even normal ponies, is not really any trouble. But remember, you must always be courteous with whoever you meet. You can decide whether to walk away, run away, or start shooting after fact." Winding Sprocket drew a heartening sigh.

"You are mighty smart sir-" Nikolai laughed. "Eh... Not really, I just retain knowledge, and wisdom... Ok. Not great, but ok." He waved his hand, and drew his attention towards a length of equine strewn carts making their way down the road towards him.

Painted Flowers decided to speak this time, "It looks like a caravan. It's not a town, but it would be better than the wild for my husband and my Filly." Winding returned his mare's statement with a vehement nod. "Only if they can, I'd rather not get our hopes up. What's the point?" Nikolai halted the group and turned to the family.

"You can decide to go wherever you want, and my companions and I will direct you. We make for Canterlot, yes. But we... And I, am more than happy to assist your return to a safe place. Wherever that may be for you. Please, I tell you absolute truth here, I am weighed down both by the weight of the items which I took from those dead raiders, and that of your an my own friends safety." Flashpoint's face twisted into a crooked smile on acknowledged awkwardness as the group started up their path towards the caravan. It seemed large from a distance, and was sure to have something worth participating in awaiting the Stalker and his companions.

After about 2 minutes of walking, Nikolai beckoned the others to stay where they were and tasked Willow with the job of watching the family. Following that, he began to approach the convoy with a brisk sense of urgency in his steps- minding very well the fact that for all they knew he was just another strange abominable mutant who desired to eat them, rob them, or eat them and then rob them. He had taken Flashpoint and Winding Sprocket with him, hoping that those in the caravan might see equines traveling with him and be put at ease. And it actually seemed to work. They struck up a conversation in a semi cordial manner, and quickly took to the Stalker's delightful mannerisms.

"Hey, is all good!" Nikolai cried, waving to Willow, who brought Painted Flowers and Potato Sack over to him.

"Are these the ponies you said you wanted us to take in?" The mother and daughter of the family seemed slightly off put by this sudden statement, but remained silent and allowed Nikolai and the unicorn he was speaking with to continue to talk back and forth.

"Yes. They are." The Stalker glanced around, examining the 5 wagon strong caravan. Only half a dozen guards were present, alongside seven merchants in bulky garb and rucksacks that brimmed with odds and ends. As if they had tried to take as much as they could carry with them. They were mostly silent through the deliberation, except for a few whispers back and forth about caps and...'other things'.

"Well," They unicorn merchant finally concluded. "I'm sorry, but we can't take them. We're overburdened as it is but- There is a little town named Garden. It's... Just a little too close to Canterlot for comfort. Most traders, us included... Don't like making rounds anywhere within 10 miles of Mount Canterhorn as a matter of safety." Nikolai preformed an exaggerated shrug, and debated with himself internally as to whether or not to tell these wandering merchants of his journey to Canterlot.

"And this Garden?" He continued pressuring them. "Where is it? Did you come from there?'

"No, no. We just happen to know about it, don't worry." The unicorn reassured the Stalker. "It's safe, and hopefully..." He pied a glance over at Potato Sack. "Age appropriate." A few of the guards and a merchant or two snickered.

"Yes but- Where is it?"

"Follow this road you're on right now until you see the billboard at the intersection with the old army checkpoint- make a left northwards and keep going. It's about five miles out from there, nestled at the base of some hills. The road past that is all Canterlot territory. Pink Cloud in the water and everything. I've never seen it personally, but there's an old steel bridge that runs over a river, turning northbound on it will take you... As far as I know, straight to the ruins of Canterlot itself. Going straight ahead or south will inevitably lead in you butting up against the Big 52. If you were going the other way, I'd say that you should try Hope. But given that it's close to Ponyville, it's probably teeming with Raiders." Nikolai raised his right eyebrow below his mask.

"How did you come into contact with this information?"

"I'm a traveling merchant?" The unicorn replied awkwardly. "I... Travel a lot? Though I've got to say, in all my days in this profession I've never, ever seen a creature that looks like you." Nikolai nodded his head affirmatively.

"Yes, that is...I can see that. I noticed it a while ago."

"Take care then." The unicorn replied. "Or... Would you like to look through our wares and see what we have on offer? It's a bit risky setting up shop out in the open but, if you've got the caps-" Nikolai had already taken to browsing though their wares, reaching under tarps and slowly examining each in the caravan with warranted suspicion.

"See anything you like?" Nikolai took hold of the second tarp in the row, an action which seemed to particularly worry the merchant who presided over it.

"It's quite alright-" It was too late, he had thrown the tarp off. And the secret was right out in the open.

A grimy set of power armor, still fully intact and laying on its side. It was surrounded on all sides by other metal crates, so that a passing glance at the cart would have revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The guard watched Nikolai with stern eyes, his muzzle drawing ever closer to the pistol he kept holstered on his chest. Pony 'sidearm' holsters were usually affixed to either the shoulder or the chest for ease of access.

"That isn't for sale." The merchant replied. Nikolai held up a hand, and pulled himself up onto the cart. "Oh, is no problem. I no-"

"Is that a genuine suit of Power Armor?" Flashpoint asked, trotting up. "It's a shame, even if I had a set for myself, I wouldn't know where to start with fixing it. Much less repairing it." Nikolai rocked his head back in forth. "Do not worry, I no want armor for myself. And it would not suit either of my companions. " The Stalker reached underneath the armor and tugged on something, his hand came out with a shiny and seemingly barely used multitool.

"How much for this thing?" By now, the familial trio of ponies they had been escorting took notice of what their Stalker guardian was doing, and peeked into the cart for a look.

"Wow, is it real?" Winding Sprocket asked the merchant. Who seemed aghast at his question. "Wha-Bagh! Of course it's real!"

"I... Don't suppose you could tell by the name, but I'm more than an earth pony with a loving family. And if not for them, I'd ask you for a job."

In the meantime, the Stalker pressed onwards. He desired to have the multitool more so than anything else on the wagon, but he didn't want to make it seem like that, lest he find himself scammed into paying more than the item was worth. He had an important reason for acquiring a multitool. Obviously, the first matter was one of convenience. He needed a better way to open cans, alongside a flathead screwdriver which he could use for various things, a more compact knife, and a set of pliers for the obvious purpose of doing what a screwdriver could not, and what a set of tweezers was too weak and two for. He could have paid with caps, but he resolved to find a better way.

"Perhaps we can barter. Will this suffice?" He drew a modestly maintained Iornshod Firearms 12 gauge double barrel shotgun he had taken from a raider, alongside 4 shells, from the recesses of his pack. He opened the action, and snapped it back into place. It's minute 6 inch barrel made it woefully useless with anything other than dense buckshot or slugs past a 15 or so meters, but, contrary to popular belief, a shotgun was still a firearm. And one would be foolish to underestimate one even at range.

The Merchant took a look at it, and nodded in affirmation. "Yes, that ought to suffice." Nikolai set the weapon and handful of shells he had gathered for it on the wagon, and pocketed the multitool in turn.

"Thank you."

Nikolai added as he turned back to his friends, all of whom had decidedly gotten bored at staring at a suit of old power armor, and instead went off on their own ways and began to look through the other carts. Both Willow and Flashpoint turned up empty. With the exception of several dozen new shiny bottlecaps in either of their packs. Tearing though the remains of Prairie city had paid off. With this final purchase, Nikolai was assuredly ready to move on. The two parties bid each other safe travels, and Nikolai continued on his northeast bound journey to Canterlot. A place which, judging by the directions given by those in the Caravan, was closer than Nikolai had anticipated. He wasn't the best 'geusstimate' of distance with regards to converting Miles to Kilometers, but even he could tell that it wouldn't be long before he was standing at the gates of the Grand Glowing City on a mountaintop that had been in the backdrop for so much of his journey.

"So..." Winding Sprocket began. "You've been with my family and I for the better part of a day, why don't you us about yourself? It's a long way to that town of Garden- And I'd be more than happy to return your curiosity with some stories of my own life. Perhaps you'd like to hear about how I met the most wonderful mare in the world?" At this, Painted Flowers trotted up besides Winding and nuzzled up against his fuzzy neck, a gesture which he returned in kind.

"Your family does certainly seem to be a healthy one, very well. You see, I come from place far, far away from here. Now, before I tell any more. You must promise not to tell anyone."

"Ummm... Alright, I figure I oughta owe that to you. Go on..."

Nikolai drew on to tell the wondering family in whole about who he was, where he was from, and what his intentions were for his expedition across the Wasteland. Up until the Army checkpoint, Nikolai reveled them with descriptions of his past life. His need to pay for higher education, his journey into the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone and subsequent early days 'learning the ropes' from veritable living legends, and the chaotic fight which led to his sudden and painful arrival in Equestria. Obviously, there was a lot he still didn't know about that. Anomalies, and the Zone back home were a strange thing. While he did know the base workings of most, the science and reason behind them, if there was any to be known at all... Was as much speculative as it was visual fact. After that, he gave a brief description of his journey up until Prairie City. He saw no harm in it, and sought to build as much trustworthiness as was possible in the time it would take them to reach their destination. While he did tell them about his escapade through Old Olneigh, he didn't dare mention The Enclave, The Unity, or heaven forbid, the damned abomination which had called itself The Goddess. He figured that would be a little too much detail for the already shaken and traumatized ponies. Seeing that they had lost a daughter and a sibling only the day before. Nikolai was dramatic, not insensible. But that didn't stop him from telling them about the Water Treatment Plant outside Whiskey Springs, The Glow, The Everfree Forest, or even The Stalker's passing 'run in' with a hellhound. Though he realized that the more gory details of even those examples may be a little worrying to the family. Insane ponies with shovels and machetes didn't really stack up all that well against Lovecraftian abominations that would make a seasoned Spetsnaz Officer wide eyed with terror. He himself wasn't the least bit shaken by it. He supposed that he had just grown desensitized to it.

"Wow, and in two weeks?" Winding exclaimed. "From that Salt Cube City down south to all the way here? In two weeks? If you weren't standing here before me right now Nikolai, I'd tell the the mad stallion who spun that kind of tall tale to take his lying flank somewhere else!" Nikolai nodded and smiled at the praise, and adjusted the filter placement on his mask a moment after. Wearing a GP 5 for long periods of time wasn't straining once you were used to it, but it did put a little extra strain on ones neck,, but he didn't mind. It was just something that once more, Nikolai had grown immensely accustomed to. His equipment was subpar by the standards of modern militaries, but it was still more than adequate for seeing him through the harder parts of the Wasteland. As they passed the derelict wrecks of light military vehicles which had stripped clean of any remaining things of value by Generations of passing scavengers, and he began to see large, square concrete structures in the distance, his mind grew to recall the skylines of his last visited cities, but also the skyline of Pripyat. The abandoned city just outside of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. A place he had never had the opportunity to visit, but had seen enough photos and enough tales of to know that it was no place for a Loner like him. Entire Platoons of heavily armed mercenaries and military groups had gone into the place, only to return either not at all, or in much lesser numbers. In the city of the dead, nothing good ever happened. Unless by chance you were a mutant, or you were an insane cultist who sported a Monolith Emblem on their uniform.

"Garden... Is that it?" He drew his PDA and examined the digital map, with Winding Sprocket, Willow, and Flashpoint alike crowding around him, and Painted Flowers failing to keep Potato Sack from galloping over to see what all the others were so invested in.

"It's about five kilometers north of where we are, seeing that checkpoint was back there- Yes? That does not look like a town, that looks like a small city. That Caravan guide failed to mention that. It is no matter, of course. Surely we that we will find that it is safe refuge for your family."

"And if it isn't?" Painted Flowers asked, finally letting Potato Sack go to stare in wonder at the electronic screen. Something she had never before seen, the closest form of media being that of a few old picture books and flip books. Moving pictures, especially anything digital, were unheard of by the little filly, and her mother soon found it exponentially difficult to keep her from looking over the glowing orange digital map and it's myriad of digital icons and topographic lines. She couldn't get away from it until Nikolai turned it off and stuffed it back into his gear.

"Why... That is simply map. Is no big deal. Just more convenient than paper. Power has yet to become any major issue. So I will continue to use it. It is no matter for any of you. Please, I would rather we get there sooner than later." He rose from his crouched position and beckoned the group to continue making their way towards Garden. Marked and guided by both the road, and the distant apartment blocks and hills that stood in between Nikolai and Mount Canterhorn. And, subsequently... Canterlot. Now that he was getting even closer to it, it was on his mind all the more

"What should I look for? How will I scale mountain? Is there pathway? What kinds of monsters or creatures might preside in there?" The Stalker scarcely had the time to contemplate these things while he trod over ancient asphalt and kept his eyes and ears open for the slightest notion that they might be under attack by any sort of thing. Sentient or otherwise. His radio played a calming and steady tune with an upright tone to it. He turned up the volume on his radio, and received a positive response from the whole of his group. So he decided to keep the knob right where it was. Steel guitar was exactly what the Stalker needed to retain his euphoric, almost giddy feeling.

" 'Cause I know you... And you know me... And we both know where this is gonna lead... You want me to say that I want ya to stay... So you should probably leave..."

While the songs lyrics spoke to something tiring, the beat and heart behind the voice singing it kept Nikolai and his friends hooked. The weight behind the lyrics almost seemed to fit to the tone of his situation. Matching with the motion of his advance towards the city of Garden almost perfectly. So much so that he resolved to record and replay the song. Much to the joy of all he was with.

"You know," He began. "From what I have seen so far in my life, there are two inconspicuous things which can easily bring people together. Food- And music. Not any music, but music with weight... The kind that tells a story."

Painted Flowers seemed almost moved by The Stalker's words, and approached him with a suggestion of her own:

"Nikolai, have you ever heard of the Radio host DJ Pon3? From what I've heard, it's the only radio station in the Wasteland that doesn't run some kind of propaganda or ulterior motive outside of good will. You have a radio, you should give them a chance. You might like it." The reaction Painted Flowers got was nothing like what she expected. Rather than a concurrence by Nikolai, she got a vivacious, booming laugh.

"DJ Pon3? The truth fellow I hear on radio? No, no. He says good things, yes- But the music he plays is... for lack of better word; Childish! I cannot stand it blin! Perhaps I meet in person someday and I give proper talking to about musical tastes!" He stomped the ground.

"Sorry." He hastily apologized.

"I am very passionate about music, you must know. I never considered making it myself, but I do listen to it often. It is just as said a moment earlier. It is a respite in world of blandness. It is like ground black pepper on Omelet, hearty music cannot do anything but help after a hard day." He walked on in silence for a moment before briskly spinning about and proclaiming to the group that nothing would ever be bland with him around. For he intended to convey as much Slavic joy and comradery as was possible. A statement which all but Flashpoint failed to grasp in any meaningful sense. And even then, all The Stalker got from his striped friend was a quick smile and a:

"Yes, of course Nikolai. We're all thankful for that."

Though behind his back, they had all come to a mutual understanding that he was, if not a full blown mad man, then at least deserving of the moniker of, 'off his damn rocker'. Had Nikolai not been too busy humming along to the song on his radio, he probably would have had some fierce words of either rebuttal or partial understanding. He thought himself normal. But normal according to himself, not what others thought ought to be normal. Though, his own normal mostly coincided with the base normal of the rest of the world. It was a Slavic sort of normal, one which was overwhelmingly prominent in Northern Ukraine and the rest of Eastern Europe. From Poland to Russia and Siberia, and Latvia down to Ukraine and Romania. In spite of minor cultural and even language differences, most mannerisms and even parts of life remained the same. After all, it wasn't just the regional commonality, it was also due to the failed Soviet Union which had occupied the majority of the Eurasian continent for the better part of a century. But he also brought with him little bits of American culture from the time he had paid the United States a visit, and fell in love with it. If his distinctly Earthly presence about him was not yet enough, then he also brought with him a conglomerate unique mindsets which had grown to dominate the Exclusion Zone. One that, like the Eastern and Western Hemispheres of the planet he had left, were as similar as they were different.

Notably, as always. Was the distinct lack of humans. Something that, outside of convenience matters, he really didn't mind. He was an adaptive man, and all of his new friends more than compensated for it. They overcompensated, if anything. The fact that he was speaking with small equines half his size, or fighting them never slipped his mind.

About two hours passed from the Checkpoint to the outskirts of Garden. All in all, four from the time they had left the Caravan. It passed briskly. Nikolai was in a great deal of hurry now. But he had scarcely failed to take in the sights in the process. All of which was somewhat overshadowed given that he would soon be in Equestria's former and supposedly great capital itself. As the asphalt of the highway grew into the marked asphalt of a strangely utilitarian looking city with an blatantly garish amount of faded billboards and pealing advertisements for Sparkle Cola and the best parts of 'Canterlot high life', he couldn't help but believe that he and his companions might be just a slight bit underprepared for such a grand undertaking. And not least of all The Wasteland Survival Guide had seemed wholly inadequate for such a grand undertaking. Offering only sparse information on what the interior of the city might be like. Putting it out of his mind to instead focus on bringing the full measure of senses to bear within an eerily quiet city. The Caravan guide had called it a town. But if anything, that was a drastic downplay. It would be like calling Dubai or London or New York villages. They may have once been, but they were exponentially more than that.

"Does anyone else hear growling?" As almost if by instinct, all three Stallions, and Painted Flowers, circled themselves around Potato Sack, who herself seemed just as interested in defending herself as her parents.

It was the hallmark sound of a feral canine. Not a hellhound, but a semi normal mutated dog. A series of sounds the The Stalker was well acquainted with. Not only from his time in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, but also his home town. There was a different mentality about dogs in his part of the world. A chained dog or wild one out on the street usually signaled danger, and thus encouraged avoidance and fear. Not that much of the latter was ever given. He knew enough about actual wolves to know that they wouldn't actively go and harass humans out of anything less than extreme hunger. But the mutants he had come across from time to time were different. It was something about the Zone's very presence that made them fiercer than most any other canine, so much so that they would very likely tear a well built Pit Bull to pieces if given the chance.

The howling kept on for about 20 seconds as the group edged their way down the road, Willow finally decided to figure it out himself. Five seconds at an elevation of about 50 meters was all that he needed. A pack of mutated dogs was swarming about the edge of some great makeshift wall. He flew back down to the surface and reported his findings to Nikolai after touching down in a swift hurry. Not a moment later, the sound of pitched canine shrieks echoed off the apartment walls nearby, followed by the notable sound of six pitched rifle shots in quick succession. Nikolai could was actually able to tell. He had grown so acclimated to hearing pistol and shotgun fire, that the pitched fire from several rifles at once actually seemed to blur into one for him.

"What was that?" Winding asked, wheeling his shotgun about and gazing at the apartments suspiciously. Nikolai laughed, and took his rifle off of it's safety. "Who was that? Better question. You hear no whistling noise? They no shoot at us. Make sense, yes? Trust me... I learn about this stuff from experience!" As they came around the side of one of the apartment buildings, a remaining dog still bent on its desire for a warm blood filled feast came bolting around the side of the building, running parallel to the Stalker as the whole of his group opened fire in a bid to stop it before it got any closer. They succeeded much, much better than Nikolai had anticipated. Given that they had collectively burned through over 20 rounds of ammunition trying to dispose of the vile thing. The Stalker swapped magazines, almost regretting his decision to open fire had he not remembered a time only a month prior when he had come upon a body torn to smithereens by phesdo dogs.

"Hallo!"

A grand voice called from off in the distance. "Welcome to Garden!" And then it came into sight. Garden proper. Surrounding a row of apartment buildings was a wall. And beyond that... Was a dense grove of dead trees. But, that wasn't the oddest thing, the strange part was the glowing thing that was flying around it.

"What is that?" The Stalker pressured Willow, the bat pony shrugged. He was just as perplexed, he had seen a lot, to be sure. All those in Nikolai's company had, though there were things foreign to even them. Winding Sprocket had never so much as seen an alicorn before. He and his family had lived in a relatively well guarded and decent sized community prior the the attack which had forced them from their home. And they hadn't really ever seen anything scarier than a limping feral ghoul. Which, in all seriousness, didn't really stack up against Steel Rangers, pegasi wearing power armor, teleporting Unity Alicorns, Glowing Salt Pillars, Hellhounds or other such delightful attributes of the Wasteland.

"Hello! Name is Nikolai! No shoot please!" The voice returned his statement with, "Ok! Only if the feeling is mutual!" A figure bearing green armor characteristic of what he had seen in the old military ruins across the Wasteland popped up over the wall and waved them in from a distance. "Well," The Stalker began. "They haven't started shooting at us. Good?"

"There isn't a gate in sight, that's a pretty big wall though." Willow replied, tussling his bat wings below his cloak.

"Well, let us go on inside and see." As soon as they passed through the wide open hole in the wall that marked the highway, they were greeted by a sudden booming of motion all around them. The inside of Garden was nothing like the scarce and sparse exterior. It was little more than a thriving, functioning trading post. They were approached by a older looking pinkish unicorn mare with a wooden peg for a foreleg and a rough smile spread out across her muzzle.

"Hello there. I saw what you did from the wall, apologies but we don't get many visitors. Oh but it's alright, go on. You're welcome here as long as you don't cause any trouble." Nikolai arched an eyebrow below his mask. He had seen creatures with missing limps before, even humans. But a pony with a peg leg? It was a new and unwelcome sight.

"Oh, and who's this cute little filly?" The mare trotted up to Potato Sack and ruffled her mane in a flurry of exchanged giggles.

"Oh, I'm Potato Sack!" The little foal tugged on her cloak.

The pink mare's smile remained unchanged. "I can't say it's any stranger than the things I've heard in my day. Oh... Enjoy your time here Potato Sack. If y'all are hungry, we've got free food for the foals. Though, I wouldn't suggest you go on trying to drink the groundwater. Canterlot and the Balefire bombs that landed in 'n around here have made it plum near unbearable." She laughed in a way that couldn't help but make Nikolai smile. Off from their right side, another unicorn, this one bearing light blue fur and a greyish mane approached them. The green armor and a pair of G3-esque rifles mounted on a battlesaddle directed Nikolai to believe that he was the one who had waved to them from the massive makeshift wall.

"Hey, you're those folks from the road, ain't ya? Oh, you wouldn't happen to be mercenaries for hire? We could use some more guards for day and night shift alike. How are you holdin' up?" The final statement was directed to the humble looking old mare. Who tugged at the leather pistol holster on her chest. "I'm fine, just greeting the new folks. Where'd you come from?" Nikolai contemplated the question for a moment, and then simple answered:

"South." There was a great deal of truth in the statement, plus, it was little more than an informal meeting. He didn't need to launch into a whole life story.

"Um, listen ma'am." Winding Sprocket pushed his way past Nikolai, who sidestepped just a moment too late to be stuck by Winding's fuzzy head. "My mare and I are looking for a place to stay, we'd go with Nikolai here but he says he's off to Canterlot." Nikolai facepalmed his mask's filter.

"No tell people, remember?" He murmured, staying just under earshot.

"Oh, well...." The mare trailed off, her smile turning uncertain. "If you're looking for advice... You won't really find any here. Try them folks over in Zebratown or those poor foals in Glyphmark. I can offer some advice, good luck. And... You should probably stock up on as much Med-X, healing potions, and Stimpacks as you can carry. We're a bit sparse on inventory but, you should be able to find all you need here." Nikolai nodded.

"Alright, thank you for help. What is your name Miss...?"

"Knitted Troubles." I do knit, just not often. Mostly leather armor and coats. As you could tell, there's no shortage of hide or old salvage to snag up and mesh together out here. "That's Scraped Edges." The unicorn tipped his helmet.

"Combat armor from an wrecked military convoy. The old Ironshod factory ain't too far from here, that's where I picked up this here IF 64. He tugged his rifles. Nikolai arched an eyebrow at the design.

"Do you mind if I take look at it? I no break, promise."

"Hmm... Alright." The Stallion struck the magazine paddle of one of the guns and picked the loaded steel box of 5.56 off the dirt, then racked the massive paddle of a strange charging handle and picked up the 5.56 round with his magic, enveloping it in a cold silvery aura. He unslung the weapon from his battle saddle and levitated it up to The Stalker. Who snatched it up by it's bizarre trigger array.

"And you pull trigger with tongue? Oh, that must hurt." He fiddled with the assembly, and realized that it could swivel to either the left or right side depending on preference. The stock, if it could even be called that, was a strange wooden gimble that drew down to a pony's shoulder. The whole thing looked a little absurd up close, the barrel couldn't have even been more than 30 centimeters in length. He handed it back to Scraped Edges, who rearmed it in a hurry, slipping it back into his battle saddle with his magic once again.

"Odd, but I can see how it would be more convenient. Still, I would take mine any day of week." He took up his AK 101 and held it out for the stallion to examine.

"Wow, it looks a bit like a griffon rifle. What with that weird trigger and all. Iornshod, Colt and Filly, Griffinstone Mechanics..." Nikolai laughed, and set his hands in his pockets.

"It is ok, you can save me tangent. Winding, you wanted to tell them something?"

"Yes, yes. My family was attacked by Raiders south of here, and... We're looking for a new place to settle down. I heard that were short of guards. I'd be up for the job if it means safe harbor for my wife and filly."

"Sure, sure, of course!. It's just me and my brothers at this point. We need the help. By all means, there's plenty of old apartments or little homes nestled in here and there. You can start picking one out if you like, free of charge. They're far from the nicest residences in the Wasteland... But there is no rent for residents." Winding Sprocket looked overtly satisfied. But something inside of him told him to examine Garden further before excepting such an offer. He turned to talk with Nikolai, only to find he had already gone off the various rows and little pop up shops to search of something useful to add to his variety of purposeful odds and ends. Mostly, he was searching for additional healing potions and Med-X. The Stalker figured that, having expended the majority of his medical supplies from Earth, he would have to stock up on as much as possible.

"Nikolai! Nikolai!"

"Huh? Winding? What is it?" The earth pony tapped the asphalt with a forehoof. "I'm seriously considering Garden... At least for the time. I won't have just anyplace for my family, I need to make sure they're as safe and well fed as they could possibly be." Nikolai nodded in agreement as he picked up a rifle magazine from one of the tables, and then subsequently set it back down and motioned for Winding to follow him.

"What do you think?" The Stalker shrugged. "I don't really know, I like this place. It is not the best, but that Knitted Troubles looks and acts fine enough. I would take you with us if you could... But I cannot imagine that you would want to go through Canterlot." Winding Sprocket shook his head. "No, no. Of course not. Not a chance! Thank you for helping us out this far Nikolai... It really means a lot to us." Nikolai laughed, and wavered his right index finger at him.

"I am not leaving yet! Do not worry! Oi! Willow!" The Batpony spun about and stood upright at his friend's request. "Yes Nikolai?"

"Look for things that could help us on trip. Ammunition. Healing potions, Stimpacks, Med-X, any of that stuff. Also... If you find 5.56... Tell me." Willow went off into the marketplace, which just left Flashpoint.

"If you don't need any more help Nikolai, I'd like to go and help Winding and his family find a place to call home. Er... I will be over on the south eastern side of Garden if you need me." With the two stallions having gone in opposite directions, Nikolai was left to browse the selection of traders at and around the main road that led through the city. He stared up and about at the apartment blocks, and chuckled.

"It is just like Zaporizhzhia on rainy afternoon. It even smells like coal smoke... So much for Garden I suppose." He returned to the traders to continue his browsing spree.

"Hmm... Hmhm!" Willow hummed in affirmation as he completed a transaction between himself, and a meek unicorn who had been in the process of sweeping the humble cracked concrete flooring of the sidewalk she and her few companions had set up on. Market stalls and tents bearing goods had sprung up all about the sidewalks, playgrounds, and formerly grassy knolls. Though most were empty, and bare of anything valuable. This was such an oddity to Willow Lamp that he couldn't help but ask the mare, who was just 2/3rds his size, why it was.

"Oh, you know..." She replied solemnly. "Some alicorns flew overhead a few days ago and scared out most of them. Most of those tents have been empty for years... Canterlot Pink Cloud soaks into everything... Ponies tell stories, those stories become rumors, next thing you know... Your prosperous trading settlement loses most of it's customers to ones down south. Not to mention all the awful things that come out of hiding once the sun goes down. You'd think you were just ghost stories if you hadn't seen them with your own eyes. We have it bad, yes... But those ponies over in Zebratown and Glyphmark have it even worse. Willow shrugged, and made a mental note to remind Nikolai of it.

"Well, thank you for the healing potions." He held them up, and then slung the back around his neck.

"Y-you're welcome..." She replied, her voice trailing off as she resumed sweeping the floor that didn't look like it needed any more sweeping.

Willow held up the leather pouch filled with four of the little bottles of shimmering purple liquid. He smiled beneath his hood, and trotted off, having felt just a little better than before, he was now in search of something to add to his own collection of items. And he decided that some new shotgun shells would suit him just finely.

Nikolai meanwhile, had taken to browsing for ammunition. But, on account of a turned about and crudely written sign that had led him down an alleyway which had subsequently led to him almost taking a broken glass bottle to his leg as he hurried past what must have been a hole in the wall tavern, he inevitably ended up looking through something a bit more unique. As he quickly discovered, Stimpacks, Med-X, RadAway, Rad-x...Or RadSafe as it was also known as. And of course healing potions, which were just the tip of the iceberg. The Stalker found himself intrigued by the myriad of strange magical supplements. Dash, Buck, Rage, and Mint-als. All of which he held a warry predisposition towards, figuring that an additional bottle of Vodka and some Radaway was more than enough to see him through anything. He knew better than to take strange anomalous substances which could hold a danger of addiction. Though, he did splurge on Med-X. Nikolai held no phobia towards needles, so long as he knew they were well kept and hygienic. Any that he had left him the first time he had to use an ai-2 medkit to both stave off radiation poisoning, and keep him going as he ran from monsters and Emissions.

"Alright!" Just as he was beginning to make his way back towards the main road, he happened back by the gun shop he had passed by when he had fist arrived in Garden. Nothing out of the ordinary, or even noteworthy... Except for the white talon painted on the side of the canvas, and the fact that he had spotted something which made the destructive part of his brain tingle with joy. He nonchalantly marched himself over to the table and waved at one of the ponies behind the counter.

"Hello! Name is Nikolai! I... Uh... I could not help but notice that back there. Is that some sort of light machine gun?" The pony in question trotted back over to some metal crates and picked up the item in question with his magic.

"Yes... It's a Colt and Filly 16 with a heavier barrel, a bipod, and... Drum magazines. Each holds sixty rounds of 5.56... Does it interest you?" Nikolai tisked. "Hm... Sure! But not machine gun, no... I want one of those magazines." He held up his own rifle. "I am not gunsmith... But- I could probably make that-" He extracted the magazine from his rifle and pointed at the well.

"...Fit and feed in this. Please and thank you. How much?" The unicorn looked Nikolai up and down. And after a moment, fully resolved that Nikolai was in need of it.

"Forty caps." The Stalker began. "Eighty," The unicorn behind the counter replied.

"Just give us sixty, that should do." A Griffon stepped out from behind the tent flap, snagging up the magazine and setting it on the table in front of Nikolai. Who fished out the appropriate number of bottlecaps, and exchanged them in earnest.

"Pleasure doing business with you sir." Nikolai extended his hand, and awkwardly shook the griffons talon.

"Hey..." The Stalker began. "You are griffon ma'am? I have questions. If you not in business of charging money for answers, could I sit over there with you and talk?" The Griffon shrugged.

"Eh, whatever. I don't have much to do anyhow. Half the ponies here are too broke or too scared to buy what we're selling."

"You are selling firearms and ammunition. In this world, how could it be scary? Is it because of the talons?" The Griffon's beak curled up into a smile. "Yes, in a way... It's complicated."

"That sounds like nonsense," He murmured, hurriedly adding, " Please just tell me. I am interested..." His voice trailed off as he spotted Painted Flowers out of the corner of his eye." Eh- Tell quickly. Friend tell me I have to watch his family. I no turn down job."

"Is he paying you?" The Stalker boomed with laughter. "Hah! I wish! No, it is really not an issue."

All the while, Flashpoint and Winding Sprocket were busy searching along the level suburban outskirts of the settlement for any viable homesteads. Winding insisted that he didn't need all that much, considering that he intended to search for some other place if possible. But he still wanted his family to have a steady roof over their head for the time being. Nikolai would have described it as searching through the downtrodden part of Cleveland, except in Cleveland, you didn't have to deal with mutant dogs. Just the occasional unsavory degenerate or drug addict shouting at you from the sidewalk. Or by chance, limp-wrist firing a pistol with modifications of questionable legality at you while again, crying bloody murder for no apparent reason. They took to a little subdivision about 200 meters off the road. It was a short distance, but well enough away from population that the two stallions resolved to scout out their building of choice; a single story red brick house based in between the apartments of downtown Garden, and the raised highways leading up over the hills towards Canterlot in the northeast.

"That one looks nice enough. The roof is all intact, there's no paint peeling. The front deck looks whole. And, except for a few broken windows... It's all nice and good." Winding trotted up to the front door, balancing his shotgun on his left hoof as he went.

20 minutes later...

Willow would have gone back to look for Nikolai, but the meek little mare's boss: a saury, odd mannered middle aged earth pony mare who seemed to worry at even the prospect of somepony else seeing her face, told the bat pony stallion about a den of mutant dogs in a nearby parking garage. Nikolai had seen her eyes, and determined that she was neither a bat pony nor ghoul, and certainly not a unicorn. The cloak and hood combination seemed to be the universal wasteland constant of the words, 'leave me alone'. And it was a feeling he felt much obliged to respect. He wasn't Nikolai, prying and intending to know every little bit of every little thing. He needed some extra money. And he figured that his bipedal philanthropic Stalker friend wouldn't object to such a proposition. He had taken search and destroy jobs before. And for a pony who could fly at a rate that could rival a pegasus in power armor, he warry, but far from worried about the danger. What he was more concerned about was the strange mare returning her side of the deal. Even if he repeated it to her verbatim, she might just turn away and pretend it never happened. So he had to bring back proof. He figured, disturbing as it might have been, some torn limbs and claws might serve as adequate compensation.

"I'll fly up, scan the levels, take the mutants in mid air with my carbine, and be back to Nikolai in 20 minutes with 50 new shiny caps to my name. It doesn't sound that hard. No, no Willow. That's not the way to approach this, caution... Remember? You aren't new to this." He put his thoughts out of his mind, and crept around a corner to unfurl his leathery wings, out of sight and out of mind of the flurry of armed and paranoid ponies below. Sticking to the taller buildings in the area, he made his way to the parking garage, marked on all four sides with a massive 3 painted in peeling reflective white paint. The sides of the building itself were covered in decayed plants. A gesture which Willow figured to be a homage to the city's name of Garden. Making almost no noise, he rose in elevation to a height of about 25 meters along the stairwell on the southeastern side of the concrete structure. He turned left and slowly made his way along the concrete guard blocks at the edge of the garage until he heard the almost thundering noise of pack animals fighting and prancing about inside the structure. He shifted his course upwards by about another meter and spotted three of the creatures fighting over the torn carcass of a fourth.

"Fifty caps? For four dogs? This isn't right. There needs to be more two it than this." He took aim with his gun, stabilized his movement in midair, and then briskly brought his rifle scope up to his slit yellow eyes and put four canine bodies to rest on the concrete in the span of three seconds. Nikolai would have been proud. But it was nothing odd, or even difficult for a stallion who had been doing such things his whole life. The bat pony waited and listened patiently for a moment. Through his eyes, the dark recesses of the garage's 3rd floor were all but lit up with massive stadium lights. Everything that moved, he noticed. More to that, he could smell the dead, rancid carcasses of the mutants he had just shot, and the gunpowder smoke drifting from the suppressor on the end of his rifle. All of which burned in his extremely sensitive nose. Thestrals held a myriad of distinct advantages above even the average pony in terms of the 5 senses, even more so than a human. Their wings weren't as attuned to high altitude flying or acceleration as a pegasus, but they certainly could turn fast, and be as quiet as they wanted to, when they wanted to.

Unfortunately, none of that seemed to help Willow when a Glowing Bloodwing. It swooped right down from one of the rusting metal pipes overhead and took a slash at his backside, lodging it's fangs in the leather padding on his back. Which, for an abomination almost half his size, was fairly worrying.

"Get off of me!" The being pulsed with greenish light and screeched violently. Willow screeched back, which seemed to only encourage the thing. He whirled around in mid air and struck the creature with his right hoof, knocking it off his back. The Balefire being emitted by it made the fur on the back of his neck stand up. And he felt faint. He landed, drew his shotgun, and smeared radioactive bat goop all over the wreck of an ancient rusting car. The boom from the weapon resonated up and down the structure, and just a moment later, two more Bloodwings flew to meet and greet him. Both of which he put down with his rifle. He turned, bounded up into the air, and flew for the ledge. About halfway in between him and the open sky, another, massive Bloodwing. This one nearly his size, dropped from the ceiling and knocked him off balance. The two creatures fell together in a heap. Willow quite literally flew into a rage, striking the thing over the head with the butt of his shotgun until it stopped moving. Without any more time to react, Willow scrambled up and made a mad gallop for a destroyed section of the guard wall. This time, it was a feral ghoul which snagged him, and tackled him just inches from the edge. The snarling thing clawed and tore at his armored and padded underbelly.

"Get. Off of me!" He gave the zombie esque creature a fierce uppercut. It was joined by another mutant dog, who snapped and lashed at his face as he struggled to hold both back. He raised his rifle and fired the last shot in the magazine into the ghoul's sternum. Putrid blood and gore exited both sides, covering him in even more filth. He whipped around and blew the feral dogs leg off. Just in time for three more to show up and begin slashing the cloth and leather around his hind legs to pieces. One tore off a chunk of his tail, and he clenched his teeth in agony's. One finally found a vulnerable spot and came off of him smeared in the Thestrals blood.

"You asshole!" He fumed, drawing himself into a pinprick eyed fury. In a rush of adrenaline, he rolled off the ledge, caught the breeze with his wings, and glided down onto the next level of the parking garage. He found himself landing right on the broken glass covered hood of a dilapidated sports utility vehicle. He watched as another canine figure dashed off the floor above and plummeted to its death in a bloodthirsty rage. The Thestral coughed and exhaled raggedly.

"I want more caps for this." Willow thought to himself, coming to understand Nikolai's frustrations with irate clarity. Just as he slipped his body off the hood of the car and reached for a healing potion from his rucksack, another ghoul, a feral cat of immeasurable ferocity, came storming out of the underside of a nearby truck with a flurry of terrifying mutant kittens and began mauling him once more. The purplish vial fell from his grasp and cracked on the floor, knocked away by one of the felines.

"That's it, no caps! He struck the magazine release on his carbine and reached for a new magazine. When all at once he heard a chittering noise, and found an oversized radscorpion skittering across the garage floor from the ramp, and directly towards him. Baring it's fangs and snapping it's massive claws. He turned to open his wings and fly off, when all of a sudden, he heard automatic suppressed rifle fire from behind him, moving up the ramp and drawing progressively closer to him, until a 5.56 caliber projectile tore the scorpion's tail right off. Followed by two more shots which put it down for the count. Up from the first floor came Nikolai, swapping magazine while crying obscenities' at the corpses of his mutant victims.

"Ohoho! Must have been Zoo Party! Ey! Willow!" The Thestral groaned in pain as the feral cats scampered off. The Stalker spun his head around and darted over to Willow's side.

"Can you stand?"

"Oww..."

"Can you fly? Blyat! The sun is going down soon, and those things will be all over us if we do not go!" The scent of Vodka on the Stalker's jacket practically reminded Willow of home. The Bat pony hovered off, but stopped Nikolai all of a sudden.

"Help me grab some mutant body parts... I need them for something." That was something the Stalker was oddly well prepared to hear, along with: "My wing's sprained." After some rushed slicing and dicing, the two shambled their way back to Garden. Oddly undisturbed by the mutants around them.

"Look who the Wasteland dragged in!" Flashpoint's warm, dirtied smile was the first thing to greet the Stalker and his bat pony companion back to Garden. Followed by a satisfied looking Winding Sprocket, and an equally enthusiastic Potato Sack and Painted Flowers.

"I... Take it you found house?" Winding nodded. "Oh, you bet-" The earth pony shifted his gaze to Willow, who quickly landed and folded his wings under his torn cloak.

"Ouch, are you alright?"

"Ah, I'm fine." Willow lamp murmured, wincing as the words passed his fangs. Nikolai shook his head. "No, no you are not. Come, I will see that you are taken care of over there my friend! No worry!"

"I need to collect my payment first."

"From what?"

"I'll tell you inside." He began trotting away towards what seemed to be an improvised clinic. The Stalker quickly whispered something into Flashpoint's ear as he passed by, and the Zebra went off back towards the market.

"So, tell me... What is it?" The bat pony kept himself from flinching as Nikolai cleaned the wound, and injected a bit of penicillin in his foreleg, before wrapping his shoulder with the cleanest bandages he had with him, including a few magical ones. He wasn't quite sure how prominent rabies was in Equestria, but he figured a magic healing potion and some comfort would be more than ample substitutes for any proper vaccination. Even now, Willow's ailment couldn't help but bother Nikolai, who was still recovering from the shotgun pellets he took to the leg back in Prairie City.

"I took a small search and destroy job for fifty caps. Those limps you an I are carrying around in our packs are the proof that I made good on it."

"Want me to leave you here to rest on cement with little blanket, or do you want to come with me and get your payment? I not kid you Willow, you will come along with me."

"It's done." Willow chirped, Nikolai opened up his old temperature controlled hunting pouch from his time in the Exclusion Zone and poured the items out onto the table. "Is this proof enough?" The poor little unicorn behind the counter looked as though she was about to faint, when her hooded boss arrived and answered.

"Yes, yes it is." And set a small pouch of bottlecaps on the table, before taking the limps in the strangest fashion, and trotting off.

"I am so, so sorry for inconvenience." Nikolai apologized. "My friend here, he said you guys want proof he did thing. So I provide proof alongside him." Nikolai gaze the mare a double thumbs up, and walked back towards the main road. Nikolai spotted Flashpoint approaching.

"Hey, Willow close your eyes." It was an odd request, but he did as asked, and when he opened them, there was Flashpoint, offering him a crossbow.

"A crossbow... Um, alright."

"It's even quieter than your rifle, and besides, Nikolai promised he'd split the cost. Not withstanding the half dozen bolts for the weapon. The stallion behind the counter said you could use rebar in a pinch."

"He is not lying. I do same thing back in Primary School. Come, I make something, and tell you story.... Have you heard of Talon Company? What a creative name! They are all literally just Griffons! How funny is that!?" He swiftly glanced about to insure that no one was listening in. If someone had, then they didn't seem to care.

"What do you say? We spend night here, at Winding Sprocket's new place... And then we set out for Canterlot in the morning? If we start before sun comes up, then we should be there in time to have the whole day to ourselves."

"Alright." Willow replied.

"As Nikolai sat around a freshly stoked fireplace, hammering and peening out the little bits of the drum magazine he had acquired earlier, and his two friends lay on a half destroyed and stained set of couch cushions, The Stalker suddenly arrived at a stark and blunt realization. He snagged a little notepad from a side pocket of his rucksack, unfolded it along with a small pen, and began fliddling around with all the thoughts in his head, to his own shock, and it finally set in that he had been in Equestria for two whole weeks.

Two weeks, most people, even most Stalkers, didn't accomplish the things he had done in a lifetime.

"Blayt... Only two? Ohoho... I need drink. This world is going by too fast." He set the notepad down besides his new drum magazine, and took swigs of Vodka until he fell asleep in his chair. Snoring just softly enough so as to not be able to wake his exhausted friends. He could only imagine the kind of nap he would take after Canterlot...