Inkwell was the Steel Rangers treasurer. Now he has to rebuild his group from scratch.
A Steel Ranger’s transport ship is shot down near the outskirts of Wintertrot, taking nearly all hooves on board with it.
Barely escaping the crash by the skin of his teeth, Inkwell, an ill-prepared unicorn not used to combat, is suddenly saddled with the burden of completing the mission alone. To do so, he will need to extend the influence of the Steel Rangers to Wintertrot, seize a base of operations, and finally, process and secure any and all advanced technologies in the area.
And he’s going to need to use all of the very few skills he’s good at, and more, if he intends to complete that mission. No pressure, really.
Of course, nopony ever actually asked Inkwell what he wanted to do...
War. War never changes. The magical land of Equestria once existed in peace and harmony. Equestrian civilization was finally beginning to realize its potential, leaps in magic and science propelling pony society forward. The neighbouring nations were also going through this period of change. New ideas and philosophies were born and it seemed the era of peace and prosperity would only continue to grow. Then the war happened. A series of tragic events led to a conflict that would engulf the land of Equestria and their Zebra neighbours.
Despite continued attempts at peace, the war continued to escalate. The conflict became more and more terrifying as new weapons and technologies were designed, and tactics evolved to use them. The great war finally ended when Balefire Megaspells rained down across the world, leaving behind a husk of what was once a thriving planet.
The survivors of the war emerged to find a ruined and dangerous land waiting for them. Of these survivors, the Steel Rangers were some of the best equipped to face the new hazards of Equestria. With power armor on their backs and some of the greatest minds and technologies left from the war, the Steel Rangers set off on their mission to save Equestria's last remaining technological and scientific progress.
Being a Unicorn sucks. What do I mean by that? Well the telekinesis is great and knowing how to fix stuff makes you useful but that's just it. I'm useful, nothing more. You see, the bright spark our order is dedicated to, didn't think to make a suit of power armor for a unicorn. Somepony thought far enough to create winged power armor for those Enclave cocknoodles, but a horned helmet? Oh no, that's risky territory right there.
So I get relegated to fixing and repairing machines. When I'm not balancing the books. Yes, balancing the books, I'm the external treasurer and at best glorified mechanic. Excuse me if I don't jump for joy at having twice the amount of work as a regular Unicorn, for half the respect. Oh that's right, you don't know why I'm griping. Allow me to elaborate...
When you're a steel Ranger you have two potential paths, you either work as a Scribe and help maintain the technology and knowledge we've managed to save, or you're one of those power armored show-offs that go out into the field, guns blazing, proving what a badass you are. I am not one of those badasses. I'm not even a scribe, chartering our next course of action or discovering how to create a more efficient magical gatling laser.
I'm the lowly tech-head initiate who fixes the power armor or salvages what's left of it. I'm also the pony who has to write up the trade agreements with the local tribals and get them to scavenge for us. I'm the pony that has to convince the tribals who prop up and worship a suit of power armor that it's just a piece of technology and they'd be better off with this stack of assault rifles than a weather worn piece of advanced power armor.
My point is, I'm simply a useful part of the group. I fill a niche but can't even get a fully functional suit of power armor. Hell I got reprimanded for stealing a helmet and cutting a hole in it for my horn. Okay, so I ruined the helmet. But it's not my fault the ministry of wartime tech or the ministry of image didn't make a helmet for Unicorns! I'd say they were prejudiced except the ministries were run by Ponies from each group.
But enough moping, I suppose I should be grateful. I could've grown up as a raider or a tribal. I could have been part of some warband, and worst case scenario I could have been a slave. There are loads of situations worse than my own, and I know, because I've seen some of them. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. There are all kinds of messed up things that could happen to me. Like creepy cults, which if you think about it, the Rangers are a bit like that. You know, with all those oaths and stuff.
Let me give you all some examples.
We swear to protect Equestria and all her technological achievements.
We swear to protect our brothers and sisters.
We swear to protect ponykind.
We put our faith in our brothers and sisters, we trust them to protect us, just as we will protect them.
As you can gather, most of the oaths are more along lines of getting us to trust and rely on one another, making us a stronger group. In theory anyway. My father once told me that the oaths were what defined us, and without them we’d pretty much just be more intelligent bandits.
Speaking of my father, I often wondered to myself if my father had some premonition when he named me. My name is Inkwell and in case you're wondering what I meant by premonition, here's a hint. I have a quill on my flank, a picture of a quill dipping into an ink pot. Surrounding the ink pot is a small stack of bits and on the other a stack of bottle caps. It's hardly the most inspiring of Cutie marks, certainly nothing to write home about anyway, but it’s mine so I’m gonna keep it.
My quarters rocked and swayed uncomfortably against the neighbouring rooms as the wind roared outside. The metal walls hummed as they rattled against the rest of the compartments that made up the transport. The clamped on section of the ship I was riding in had not been attached as tightly, otherwise it wouldn’t be rattling and vibrating so badly.
I was sitting down in a rather comfortable position as I went over the reports I had been given before we left. My first priority would be to discover the economic climate of Wintertrot, mainly from reports I'd be forced to read through. I couldn't simply go out and do it by hoof because the Steel Rangers didn't want to waste a “valuable asset” like myself.
Figures that a ship full of Tech-heads would need somepony to be the bean counter and work out deals with the local populations. Otherwise we'd be scrounging for ammo as we tried to wrestle the tech from their dead hooves. It's a grim prospect, but one that I'm happy to say I prevent a lot of the time.
I looked up from my pile of paperwork and stared at the walls of my rattling quarters, bored out of my mind. Maybe today is the day I don a suit of power armor. Then I'll go room to room, deck to deck and personally kick each of those inconsiderate pricks right in the-
My brief fantasy was ruined, however, by a sudden announcement from the ship wide intercom. "Scribes and Rangers, ETA to Wintertrot is approximately one hour and fifteen minutes. Please prepare for landing. We'll be experiencing severe turbulence on our arrival."
"Funny how they never think to mention the initiates. What am I, mouldy hay or something?" I spoke aloud to myself. Not because, as some might think, I'm an egotistical narcissist. No, I just like the sound of my own voice sometimes.
I got up from my chair and reluctantly made my way to the outer corridor. The passageway branched out into multiple corridors, leading to other parts of the ship. I began navigating the halls, taking the quickest route to the center of the ship. The central chamber of the airship had numerous chairs that we had to buckle into before landing. Something about the stress of entering lower altitudes from higher ones. Somepony had told me why, but aerodynamics wasn't one of my strong points.
I stood in line ready to take my seat, when I was knocked out of line. I got back up, growling in frustration when I turned to see that Jack Knife had taken my spot. The mare turned back to me, blowing me a mocking kiss, before turning and talking to one of her friends.
Sighing, I moved to the back of the line. Nopony was willing to sidle over and let me slip back into line. After waiting in line again, I was ready to take my seat, when I suddenly realized my tags were missing.
For those of you unfamiliar with Steel Ranger practices, here’s a quick rundown on why tags are important. A tag is a small chip that is inserted into a terminal or maneframe so information can be read or encoded on to it. The tag’s purpose was to detail a Ranger's career and their outstanding accomplishments. Everything is recorded, such as the number of kills you make, the technology you recovered, technology you restored or destroyed. Even the shape of your Cutie mark is recorded on the damn things.
I groaned in frustration. I would have to trudge back to my quarters and retrieve the damn things. That or I would risk a reprimand and a loss of more of my scant, free time.
I turned around and left, making my way back through the airship at a jog. The corridors were now deserted, much to my relief. The last thing I wanted was to run into one of my commanding officers or worse, a star paladin. They got really strict about things like tags. I re-entered my quarters a minute later and found them hanging on a steel chain, loosely draped over a small peg above my bed. I levitated the small tags over to me, sighing as I thought of the very few annotations downloaded onto the nigh indestructible chip. I hung the chain around my neck and tucked it beneath my overalls.
The cold metal chip hung limply against my chest. Nodding to myself, I turned and prepared to leave the room. I barely took two steps when I was thrown into the air. My head met the cold metal ceiling of the small room with a solid thump. Instantly my ears were ringing and popping, and I felt light hoofed. My hooves touched the floor gently. I was barely brushing the metal floor as I felt the ship beginning to fall.
I struggled and flailed about whilst trying to reach the door. Moving ever so slowly, I managed to pull myself over to it. The hatch, much to my horror, refused to move. It must have been automatically sealed by the airship’s on board systems. It didn't exactly matter to me now, the airship was crashing and I was partially floating/freefalling as the ship began to angle more into a nosedive. I scanned the room desperately, looking for something I could use to protect myself.
My eyes fell on the storage locker. I mainly used it for storing spare overalls and parts. The storage unit was bolted to the wall by blessedly thick rivets, keeping it in place. I floated over to the locker, struggling against the increasing vertigo. I could feel my hide vibrating as the ship around me continued to plummet. Small explosions began erupting around the ship, and I heard the nearest engine start screaming in what could only end in catastrophic failure. I could smell faint signs of smoke from fires, and feel the heat that was being generated as we plummeted.
A sharp jolt made it clear the structure of the vessel was compromised. Grabbing my bed sheets and a syringe of Med-X from my stash of meds hidden beneath the mattress, I injected myself with practised ease and let the numbing sensation flow through my hooves. I then flung myself into the locker and covered myself in overalls, bedclothes, and the sheets. The soft cloth would hopefully act as padding for me. I reach out with my magic, keeping the door to my locker closed. I forced the locking mechanism to click into place and waited.
I don't know how long we fell for, but I felt the ship eventually take a full nose dive. My flimsy protection and my body were pressed against the back of the locker. I wrapped the sheets and clothing more around my body, creating a tight cocoon to protect me. The last thing I did was scream.
Scream and hope Jack Knife didn't make it.
I never said I wasn’t petty, and she had almost certainly managed to screw me over.
Comes with being a pencil pusher I guess.
I awoke to a dull thumping headache, centered in my horn. My chest flared in sudden agony as I tried to move. I surmised that I must have broken a couple of ribs. Groaning in pain, I attempted to loosen the cocoon of fabric I had encased myself in. My horn/headache was discouraging me from using magic to dig my way out, but my ribs were definitely giving me problems whenever I tried to move. Trying to find a balance between the two was hard to do, so I managed as best I could. After a bit of digging, I was able to locate the inside mechanism for the door. Sheets and clothes rained down after me as I fell straight out of the locker and onto my room wall.
I let out a sharp hiss as my chest exploded in extreme pain as I landed awkwardly on my bed. I dearly hoped the medical deck hadn't been shorn off during the crash as I clawed my way out onto the deck outside of my room.
Instead of the metallic flooring or a large burning wreck, I was met only by the howling winds of the Equestrian wastelands. The drab grey and brown colors of the wasteland greeted me. A solitary tree stood alone, black and burnt whilst surrounded by pieces of broken metal. Pieces of the airship’s hull jutted out of the ground or were crushed and twisted into new and interesting shapes by their impact. In the distance I could see a bizarre white substance coating distant hills and roads.
I had somehow miraculously survived the section I was in being severed from the main body of the airship, and then survived said section’s ‘emergency landing’ upon the ground. I ducked back inside my room after realizing I was completely isolated and help probably wasn’t coming anytime soon.
I walked over to my bed and found my small hoard of medicine mostly intact. What healing potions I had, had been shattered. It was probably a good thing too, as I would have chugged them down then and there without thinking about getting my bones set first. Instead, I extracted another syringe of painkiller and stabbed it into my body. With a rush of relief, I could feel the soft and comforting coolness of Med-X once again flooding my system.
I stuffed a roll of healing bandages into my robe’s inner pocket and an unlabeled vial I was keeping for a special occasion. I patted my clothing gently, adjusting their contents and slowly went back to the locker. A small jolt of fear running through me as I sifted through the assorted clothes and blankets. My hooves finally found what I sought, I threw the bundle of cloth aside and pulled out a small leather knife sheath. I had lost the knife a long time ago, but I still held onto the sheath. I had hoped to replace the knife someday, but it kept slipping my mind.
With the small sheath stashed inside my robes, I trotted out into the wasteland with two goals in mind.
First, I needed to hook up with whatever remained of my contingent. Second, see if our fighting force was so crippled that they'd finally let me wear power armor and make me a helmet for my horn.
I had doubts about my second goal but a stallion can dream right? I set off into the wastes, following a trail of metal and plastic debris. The faint smoke clouds in the distance was my first objective.
Trait Revealed - Misfit You can be very socially awkward and have a harder time making friends or realizing that you have them.
Perk Added - Survival Expert (Level 1: Junior Survival Expert) You recognize a dangerous situation when you see one, and you're quick wits can get you out of trouble. +2% to all your resistance stats.
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 1: Suit Up “A long walk from a short drop.”
My hooves felt like they were weighed down by lead weights as I pushed myself to run faster, the soft clicking of mandibles is enough to get anypony running. A whole pack of hungry clicking mandibles was enough to make a pony sprint for his life and call on Celestia and Luna for mercy. For me I was reminded of my lack of proper barding.
I weaved left and heard the soft swish of a radscorpion's tail jabbing forward and impacting into the soft white frost coating the ground. Behind me a pack of the monsters gave chase, an unarmed and unarmored Pony was too good a target for them to pass up it seemed.
I felt my lungs burning as I ran, but there was no way I was going to give up now. The burning wreckage of my contingents transport was becoming visible. I saw an opportunity to get the better of my hungry pursuers, and scrambled on top of an old carriage abandoned by a dirt road. The rusted metal groaned beneath my hooves as I scrambled my way onto the hood. Looking down I could see the radscorpions were tenacious if nothing else. Their stingers curled up and stabbed the hood of the car, time and again, making small sharp puncture holes in the rusted metal.
"I... have had it...with you!" I was glad nopony was around to hear that frankly embarrassing line of dialogue. I reached out with my magic, taking one radscorpions stinger and stabbed it deep into one of the small puncture holes in the wagon’s chassis and managed to wedge it so that the stinger would be pulled out if the radscorpion scuttled backwards. I wasted no time and reached out my magic once more, grasping a nearby rock.
One of the radscorpions was making some headway and getting up onto the junked carriage. In response, I drove the rock into its face and continued to do so. Even after it stopped moving I kept smashing the rock against it; I didn't have a Pipbuck or a suit of Power armour to tell me when I had killed something.
Feeling a bit bolder, now I had managed to severely bludgeon a radscorpion to death. I hefted the rock with my magic and took a tally of the surrounding Scorpions. There were at least four others, three were trying to find a way up to me and the fourth had its stinger jammed inside the wagon chassis. I aimed my rock, reflecting now that learning to aim a gun and aim a rock were two entirely different things.
I sent the rock soaring at one of the radscorpions. It hissed in pain as the rock cracked it's leg open. Yellow blood and ichor dripped out of the wound as I levitated the rock once more. I brought the rock down again. The now jittery mutant moved gingerly on its injured limb and tried to charge the carriage. I allowed it to get close and focused my attention on another radscorpion.
The second beast kept its distance but was closing in, ever so slowly. It's claws were posed upwards in what I assumed was an aggressive stance. I brought the rock down on one of its claws and was dismayed when the beast managed to catch my rock. I watched the rock slowly split as the vice like claw cut cleanly through it. Now seemingly disarmed, the remaining three scorpions surged at me, trying to climb up the pierced and punctured wreck, one industrious scorpion even using its trapped partner to scurry up.
I let a wry smile spread on my face as I flared up my horn and reach out with my telekinesis. I gripped the carriage and tipped it onto the surprised and now trapped scorpions, leaping off in time to hear their bodies give a satisfying crunch as the full weight of the carriage landed on the mutated bugs.
"Buck yeah, in your faces!" I admit, I wasn't as experienced in wasteland survival, otherwise I might have thought twice about announcing my presence to even more predators. But that was the last thing on my mind. I was elated, I had managed my first kills, on my own, without any power armour.
With renewed confidence I trotted away, making more headway to the crash site. I couldn't wait to rub it in to those sissy scribes that I survived and killed five radscorpions on my own. Maybe I should tell them it was three? Five is kinda boastful and hard to believe. I shook off the niggling feeling of modesty as soon as it crept up on me and continued trotting along the frost covered road.
I followed the frostbitten road until it joined up with one of the main ones. I knew if I followed it, I could take a more direct route to Wintertrot. Old, rusted signs announced how far I had to go, set roughly two miles apart each. Each sign was a faded shade of pink, with the smiling face of Pinkie Pie and some motivational words beside her. The ministry mare stared out at the road, her eyes seeming to follow me as I passed. I had to fight the urge to shudder and look back, because the first time I did I found the back of the sign had another smiling image of Pinkie. The image looked at me, almost as if I'd been naughty, a few faded words next to her proclaimed in red 'Eyes forward, buster'.
Walking along the road left me feeling terribly exposed. I kept glancing around, expecting some abomination of the wasteland to burst out from one of the frozen cars and assault me. I stopped by one transport carriage that had been rusted shut, the Ministry of Technology logo caught my eye. There was potentially something of value right here in the middle of the road. I trotted round to the back and wrapped my magic around the rusted doors, but they resisted and barely shook as I attempted to yank them off. I tried applying more pressure and even tried to make the door collapse inward. Sadly my efforts proved fruitless and the door remained stalwart and defiant.
I took a break, examining the door once again. I could see hints of a hydraulic locking mechanism, running just beneath the doors and upon further inspection beneath the carriage. I brought a hoof to my face as I realised the obvious and trotted round to the front of the carriage and the drivers cabin. I examined the controls, they were old and rusted but they could probably be moved much more easily than the door. As I clenched my eyes shut and exerted myself trying to magically move the lever, I couldn't help but reflect that a suit of power armour or perhaps a set of power hooves would have allowed me to rip open the carriage like a can opener. It almost caught me by surprise when the lever finally gave some slack, then slammed all the way forwards.
The old doors cried out as they opened, jamming about halfway. I wasn't exactly in a complaining mood though, I was just happy to have a way in. I clambered into the dark confines of the carriage and found the interior was still in good condition. The daylight flooded the interior revealing several steel boxes, still sealed away since before the end of the war.
I managed to unseal one of the crates and looked inside, seeing only a layer of packing material. I pulled it out with my teeth, the taste of plastic packaging lingering on my tongue. Inside was a small steel case, I levitated it out and popped it open, unsure of what to expect. I wish I could say I found something like a gun that disintegrates everything, the schematics for creating water talismans or maybe even a Pipbuck.
Instead I found a drill bit.
I'd say I was wholeheartedly disappointed and considered leaving it behind. But the small, perfectly preserved scrap of paper changed my mind. The scrap was in fact a piece of a user manual that carefully explained the drill bit's purpose, it read as follows.
Hello, and congratulations on your purchase of the Mark III Mining Apparatus and Diamond Magi-Drill fitting. This exciting combo is designed to be used in mining operations but can also serve in combat almost as well as any Steel Ranger Power armour. This innovative drill can be hooked up to a set of power armour. (Ideally the Mark III Mining Apparatus that is paired with this drill, but other suits can also be used as substitutes)
I suddenly held the magi-drill in a new light, realising its potential as a hoof to hoof weapon. I could envision myself now, driving the whirring magi-drill through a radscorpions carapace or slicing through another Steel Ranger's power armour. Now knowing what I held, I eagerly popped the lid on the other steel crate and carefully levitated the plastic packaging inside. The motor sat there, perfectly preserved and ready for use. With glee I slotted the drill bit onto the motor, then spent the next twenty minutes figuring out what I was doing wrong.
I floundered around in the packing material, until I found the scrap of paper, rereading the scrap of paper, before finding a convenient set of assembly instructions on the other side. Giving the drill a satisfied look over, I noticed the engine had a brace that was designed to fit on a suit of power armour. I haphazardly strapped the drill to to my left foreleg, the added weight giving me some discomfort. There were a few more boxes, but they were sealed with locks that required pass-codes or a good hacker. Despite my experience with technology, I was a rather poor hacker, usually I only worked on technology that was already in active service.
I decided I had best try to rendezvous with the rest of the Rangers and exited the vehicles, sealing the back shut once more. Walking with care, the added weight of a drill did little to help me move quietly as I continued down the road to Wintertrot.
As I neared Wintertrot, I finally discovered the airship. Even if the side turrets had been repurposed for sniper posts in the compound near Two Towers, it was a beautiful machine of war.
Or it had been.
Now, the sides of the vessel were split open, and the steel carcass was pockmarked with holes and gaping wounds. The exposed interior was gloomy and burnt, lit with occasional arcs of electrical energy. Smoke still billowed out in small clouds as the other side of the transport burned.
I was hesitant about entering. Sure I wished some of the ponies inside were dead. But that didn't mean I wanted them all dead, and I was certain somepony must have made it out alive.
Not content with waiting to find out, I looked for a way inside. The airship had crashed and ploughed through a small building before it came to land on its side. The main doors were either blocked by the ground or too high to get into.
My eyes were drawn to my magi-drill. It was designed to hook up and draw power from a suit of power armour. The armour is magical and is powered by magic. I wondered how I might jury rig a power supply, my thoughts turning again to the instruction manual. I hastily flipped through the wafer thin pages, before finding instructions on plugging in and powering the device. The manual plainly stated that I had to connect the motor to a source of magic. Examining the motor I noticed two small wires that would automatically hook themselves up to a suit of power armour, or failing that, would allow an Earth pony technician to physically connect it to a power supply.
I pulled out the wires with my teeth, then wrapped the tips of the wires in my magic and pulled them up to the tip of my horn. I felt the wires connect and then begin draining my magic as power began flowing into the drill. The motor's gauges lit up as it began powering up, purple light surrounded the drill head as it began to spin.
I hefted the tip of the drill and felt it biting into the metal. The metal became red hot as I forced the drill downward creating a jagged line down the hull of the ship. I fashioned a circle into the hull and stepped back as the thick hull gave way and collapsed inwards, leaving a rather jagged but accessible hole. I disconnected the magi-drill. I noticed with a sudden light headedness that the drain on my magic was beginning to make me dizzy.
I clambered into the hull and found the halls were full of faint wisps of smoke coming from the more severe fires on the other end of the ship. The dim red emergency lights that are supposed to inform the crew to evacuate were the only source of light. Wires hung loosely here and there, occasionally sparking as I walked along the wall. The ship was so far tilted over that the floor now acting as one of the walls. Navigating the vessel was a tricky business, complicated by certain corridors which were now steep drops. I scanned the walls as I moved through the vessel, clinging tightly to the walls, whilst looking for the relatively new signs that helped guide ponies that were new to the vessel.
I had to crawl along the walls slowly, like scaling down a mountain, except the rock face was made of metal and has protrusions like door handles, fire extinguishers and broken walls and equipment jutting out everywhere. My legs were scraped and cut as I traversed the ship as best I could.
I at long last reached the bottom of the corridor and found what I was looking for, the armoury door. The armoury door was sealed up tight, fortunately I had access. I scanned my tag and waited expectantly.
"Access d-d-KZZZ-denied." The crackling voice of the door's security programming spoke out. I silently cursed as I realized my predicament, I would have to go to the burning side of the ship and find a high ranking scribe or paladin. Which meant climbing back up the corridors and then along the others.
"Cocknoodles." I cursed and prepared to lift my hoof to my head. I almost fell as the drill weighed down my left hoof and nearly pulled me over. I whooped in excitement, realizing I didn't have to crawl through the flaming, smoke filled corridors. That would have been a really horrible dangerous experience.
I reconnected the drill, which began spinning as my magic flowed into it, a smile crept onto my face as I punched the drill into the door. Metal warped and melted under the magical weapons assault, loud screeches and inorganic screams emanating from the metal. My left hoof burned lightly as hot sparks leapt off the straining metal and danced across the floor. Small shards of metal and curly metal shavings fell like red hot snow before burning and smouldering on the floor as I carved a large entrance for myself.
An electronic gurgle emitted from the access terminal. “Bzzt-Access Gran-BZZKT-ted”
I allowed myself a satisfied smirk as I allowed the ruined doors metal to cool off. “That’s what they all say, in the end.” I said in contempt.
Standing outside the room, I glanced inside and would've been hopping for joy, if not for the sharp pieces of metal lining the walls that formerly held shelves full of equipment. I swept the metal shards aside with telekinesis and proceeded to hop through the mangled door.
The room was a technological treasure trove, several suits of power armour were still secured in their lockers along one wall. The wall opposite the power armour had been lined with a collection of weapons and ammunition, ranging from explosives like the typical grenade machine-guns and heavy assault rifles and magical laser weaponry. Many of the weapons had been knocked out of their racks by the crash and had ended up in a heap at the opposite end of the room, some weapons notably damaged. Like the well trained merchant I am, I began examining everything with care and consideration. The suits of power armour were the standardized suits of combat power armour used by Steel rangers, the helmet sported a gas mask like unit coupled with one of the suits many talismans, that would keep a pony alive in poisonous environments.
I found a locker with nopony’s name on it and proceeded to try and open the locker, made all the more awkward by the angle of the room. The power armour fell out, clanging heavily on the weapon racks across from it. I propped up the power armour until it stood unsteadily on a relatively clear patch of wall and opened it. I specifically chose a suit that didn’t have somepony’s name on it, call me silly, but the Ranger it belongs too might still be running around the ship and looking for a way out. And I didn't want them seeing me in their suit of armour. The whole reason I was looking for the airship plagued me with guilt. I slipped on the power armour, determined to see if I could find somepony still alive.
I disconnected the drill and let it fall to the floor as I adjusted to the power armour. I sealed myself into the armour and used my horn to levitate the drill onto my left hoof. The Drill connected with a few adjustments, it's weight was slightly off-setting when wearing the suit, but nothing I probably couldn’t adjust to. I levitated a helmet over to myself and examined it, taking note of the depressing lack of a hole or space for my horn.
As I lifted up my magi-drill, I made a mental note to get a piece of metal to cover my horn. The device was now fully powered by my suit and glowed with its familiar purple glow coming from the gauges and now the vents on the side as it powered up. With the precision of an inexperienced and ill-prepared pony, I mangled and completely ruined the helmet. I groaned in irritation, knowing the Elder was going to give me hell for doing that, assuming he was alive.
I discarded the warped and twisted remains of the wreck and lifted another. I wrapped both my hoof/drill and the helmet in my telekinetic grip as I brought the tip of the magi-drill down to the helmet much more slowly. I drilled a small hole into the helmet and lifted it up to examine it. The edges of the hole were a little uneven and warped, creating an oblong shaped hole, but it was an otherwise smooth entry. I slipped on the helmet the padding inside the helmet created a soft but firm outline of my skull. This would help keep the helmet on and keep it comfortable. The Helmet clicked and pressurized, syncing up with the suit of power armour; there was some static as the helmet alerted me to the damage to my helmet.
"Ignore helmet damage." I instructed the suit verbally. There was a pause as the helmet adjusted its programming. A scrawl of text temporarily flooding the screen before showing my condition as fine, with a cautionary icon showing my helmet badly needed to be repaired. I scanned the room, looking for one last item. A containment unit for anything I picked up. Examining my surroundings, my screen outlined and identified various objects, showing weight a rough estimate on protective values, and surprisingly enough their averaged barter prices. I was left to marvel for a moment at how useful this feature was. I scowled when I realized if they had just been given me a suit of power armour years ago I could have been a lot more efficient in my dealings with the tribals & gang ponies.
I finally spotted a containment unit, out of the reach of any regular pony. A unicorn must've stuck it up above the lockers before the crash. I was surprised it had been held in place through the rough landing. I grabbed the containment unit and propped it open, shocked by what I found inside.
It was a Vultur Gryphus Armored Saddlebag. An Air-Tite 286 model, no less. It was made for heavy infantry during the war, to protect the wearer’s non-essentials and ammo. This particular set was built to be customizable between fliers and ground infantry. It had a multi purpose rail slot for mounting heavy weapons on the top of the saddlebags, and feeder slots for ammunition on the back ends of the casing.
It was armored, heavy as all hell, nearly completely made of metal, obviously beaten beyond its warranty, repaired many times, and best of all, it was all mine. I’m sure that under my helmet, my eyes were gleaming, caps scrolling across them whilst the little greedy pony inside me was rolling around in a pile of caps.
Dropping the heavy saddlebag on with glee, I let the armor’s hydraulics take the weight. Levitating a machine grenade launcher and a missile pod over, I began the arduous task of attaching them to the rails.
I walked with a spring in my step as I left the medical supply closet. My suit’s sorting spell was already finding its way to packing the objects in as tightly as possible, making room for more supplies and future loot.
After accessing a shipwide data terminal I wasn't under any delusions of anypony surviving, not any more. The damage reports displayed on the terminal showed severe fires and extreme loss of function in the middle of the ship. Anypony who had still been on board during the crash would certainly be dead by now. Moving onward from there, I noticed I had lost the spring in my step.
I was simply here for one last grim task.
I mentioned before about the tags the Rangers wear. Funny to think that forgetting to bring mine actually saved my life, whilst the rest of my comrades had been strapped into chairs dying and burning horribly. I traversed the ship into the fiery bowels of the ship, the flames licked my armour harmlessly as it resisted the flames. Warning icons began to light up on my HUD, warning me my suit was at risk of overheating.
I sprinted forward, the pistons and hydraulics of my suit audible over the din of the burning decks, below and above me. I finally found my way into the crew deck, and suddenly I was thankful for the rebreather built into my suit for a whole other reason. The sight before me was gruesome, exposed teeth and expressions of pain were preserved on the burnt and warped features of my fellow rangers. Many had skin that was dark red like leather, whilst others had burnt black flesh, that looked like overcooked meat.
I could feel myself throwing up, I couldn't help myself. The exposed teeth, charred flesh, and in some cases the burnt skeletons all stood out. My helmet filled with my stomach's contents, only to my great relief, be drained by some form of cleaning talisman. The interior of my helmet was clean once more, bringing me some small measure of relief.
I took a shuddering breath to steady myself. And began reaching out with my magic, wrapping the tags of my fellow Rangers in my aura. The tags were deposited neatly into my storage unit, and bundled together as they began to pile up. Each Tag that passed by me was a Pony I knew at some time or another. I fixed his power hoof once, and I bought the inlays she wanted for her magical laser. Ninety seven tags in total were gathered. That left three. My own and two other crew members, not counting the pilots.
I examined the corpses one last time. Their dead eyes now empty and uncaring stared back at me. I did my best to ignore my unease, pushing it away as I searched the corpses for signs of the missing tags. Finding no trace of the tags, I turned to leave and noticed a red bar on my E.F.S (Eyes Forward Sparkle) display. After further examination, the red marker described details like threat level and distance from me. I began to wonder how the spells built into the armour knew so damn much.
I left the crew deck, making my way to the red threat. Better to get this over with right now, than wait until later.
The red blip on my helmet’s heads up display was getting closer. Whatever it was, it was making slow and steady progress. If it knew I was here it didn't care, or if it did care, it was being remarkably cocky going up against a pony in power armour.
Eighty Metres
The red blip was rounding a corner, getting ever closer. It was only one more turn and then straight towards me. I readied myself, positioning myself so I could swing around the corner and blast whoever, or whatever was inside the airship.
Forty Meters
I could hear steps, the distinct sound of a two legged biped. I could think of only two creatures that might be lurking around the corner. One of those hulking canine horrors, known as Hellhounds or one of the exceedingly rare Minotaurs
Fifteen Meters
I leapt out, ready to face the threat. My side mounted grenade machine gun clicked into active. I was momentarily flummoxed at what I was seeing. Before me was a black and white striped equine that could only be a zebra, old Equestria's infamous foes. The zebra was walking on two hooves, in what I assumed was an uncomfortable position. A large rifle was held in the zebra's front hooves.
The zebra, surprised at my sudden appearance, rolled into one of the rooms on the floor. I began approaching with a nervous trepidation.
"You can come out now?" I called out uncertainly, against the recommended ‘kill first, ask questions later’ approach my suit seemed to encourage, pointing out the low armour value of my opponent. In response to my friendly efforts to reach out, the barrel of the rifle snapped up. I hid behind the corner just in time as three rounds fired out. I saw the bullets leave smoking holes in the wall whilst the circuitry hidden beneath it began to burn.
I leapt around the corner, firing off two grenades wildly. Another burst from the zebra's rifle took out the built in light on my helmet, as well as one of my rebreather tubes. With two resounding thumps, the blip on my E.F.S turned highlighting him as a yellow neutral.
I grit my teeth as I stomped over. The zebra was unconscious, lying below me, entirely vulnerable. I levitated the zebra's rifle up to me and stored it with the rest of my acquired weaponry.
Looking down, I felt the moment was ripe. I could simply jump on it, my weight combined with the suit would kill my opponent and not waste any ammo.
And then my conscience caught up with me. What if the zebra had a family? They could be a mother or father. I decided I'd simply leave the unconscious zebra, they could make it out alive, everything would work out for him/her I was sure. Maybe I should leave a healing potion...? It was bleeding out the ears after all.
The vessel shook as a tremor went right through it.
"Cocknoodles." I cursed as I prepared to run. A groan from behind me caused me to pause. I glanced back down at the zebra again. As my mind began wrestling with various scenarios, none of which included me walking off happily into the sunset.
A great plume of fire shot up into the sky. A fantastic mushroom cloud illuminating the twilight and burning everything within a 200 meter radius into a charred husk.
As I watched the airship explode from afar, I theorized what exactly caused the explosion. An engine explosion was clearly involved, perhaps coupled with a bomb? That wouldn't explain the initial tremor that surged through the ship beforehoof, though.
"You rescued me?" I turned to see the Zebra stallion standing now on all four hooves and fixing me with a rather severe look. His face illuminated by the flames behind me.
"Well the ship was kind of exploding around us." My attempt at a joke was met with obvious confusion. The Zebra gave me a quizzical look. I shrugged whilst sighing.
"You're welcome by the way." The zebra didn't respond as I began to walk off, the barely audible hooves of a certain zebra could be heard soon after. I trotted ten paces expecting my Zebra 'friend' to be gone. Looking back I could see he had managed to keep the exact distance that lay between us when he first started talking.
"What's the deal? Don't you have friends or family to go back to right now?" The zebra gave me a deadpan expression and looked around as if expecting somepony to show up.
"You are responsible for me now. I am not fit to look after myself." The Zebra's words didn't sit well with me. Was he giving himself as a slave to me?
"Look, I don't want a slave. Neigh, I refuse to own one." The Zebra whinnied and snorted, an amused expression on his snout.
"You speak as if you have a say in such matters." The Zebra shook his head sadly. "You saved my life, therefore I am your responsibility. My actions are your actions." The Zebra finished his explanation looking me right in the eyes. His orange eyes felt piercing and made my skin crawl. I looked away quickly.
"Alright fine, you can come with me." I tapped a hoof to my helmeted face thoughtfully. "Now I think on it, I guess I should make you my first knight."
Now it was the Zebra's turn to look confused.
"What, you think I'm going to let just any pony or zebra follow me?" I stamped my hoof as I continued. "You're second in command of the Wintertrot Rangers. I'm your CO and possibly Elder too." I can safely say I was on top of the world right then.
"We're but two stallions alone out here. What do you hope to accomplish?" It was a valid point, but my years of sales pitches to tribal's kicked in as I did a theatrical twist and smiled.
"Come now, come now, no need for the gloom and doom." I raised a hoof and pointed in the direction of Wintertrot. "Wintertrot lays that-a-way. I'm sure I can win over some more ponies to my cause."
"You did not win me over. You simply beat me and let me live. I follow you beca-" I didn't wait for him to finish.
"Details, details. Look I have to go to Wintertrot, not just for my contingent's mission." A look of understanding crossed the zebra's face. We both knew what I wanted.
"Revenge is a poor cause...Elder?" I nodded at the zebra as he gave me an uncertain look. "Justice would be better I think."
"Justice & recovering tech. Doesn't sound too hard? Am I right Knight..." I realized then that neither of us had introduced each other, I sighed and held out a hoof to the Zebra.
"Inkwell." The zebra gave me a perplexed look.
"I am most sorry, but I did not bring an inkwell with me." I facehoofed hard, the metal helmet rattling softly against my horn.
"My name is inkwell." I clarified. "And your name is..." The Zebra caught on now and bumped his bare hoof against my own armoured one.
"My name, though not important. Is something I should share. I am Crosshair." At the mention of his name, I couldn't help but feel my gaze drawn to his flank. There staring out at the world, was a series of lines in the shape of a detailed crosshair. I was left to wonder if the world was driven by some force that enjoyed giving us names that matched our Cutie-marks.
"I'll call you Cross for short. Unless you don't want me to?" The Zebra shrugged his ascent and coupled the movement with a casual flick of the hoof.
"Alright then Knight Cross. Let's find a place to hole up for the night. We'll make for Wintertrot in the morning." I was a little giddy. My hoofs had a noticeable spring in them as I walked. Ok maybe I was really happy and giddy, something was going right for once. Plus it helped me keep my mind off the two missing Rangers. We trotted off to Wintertrot, not sure of what to expect, hopefully answers to some of my questions, and maybe some pre-war tech to make the mission worthwhile.
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 2: The Wall “Close encounters of a ghoulish kind.”
I awoke from my uneasy sleep. My face was dampened by a cold sweat, and the faint smell of smoke seemed to linger in my nostrils. My cheek was stinging as Crosshair stood over me, his orange eyes staring back at me intently as he kept a hoof over my mouth. He lifted his hoof to his lips, making a shushing motion and began creeping away. We'd taken refuge within a ruined little shop, the kind that bore a family's name on the front. In this case the name ‘Cutter’ had been written on a rusted sign.
I didn't dare get up. Crosshair could move silently, but my power armour would be far too noisy for stealth. Instead I levitated my damaged helmet over to me and slid it back on. The small warnings were still there, but I did my best to ignore them as I watched Crosshair. The zebra's coat seemed to help him blend in with the environment, his features almost blurred when he was in the shadows.
With my helmet now on and fully active, the built in EFS showed three red blips just outside the building. I was guessing three ponies, or maybe zebras if my new 'friend' was any indication. There were probably more zebras in the surrounding area, possibly friends looking for him. I glanced at Crosshair, who was spying on the hostiles outside, and mentally facehoofed when I realised I had his rifle in my steel saddlebag.
I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out the rifle, Crosshair watched me with a frantic expression. I didn't know what he was hinting at as I levitated the rifle over to him. He crouched down and leapt forward. A series of bullets punctured the walls where Crosshair had been crouching, I now realised why he had looked panicked. My magic glowed when I had been levitating the weapon over to him, alerting the hostiles outside the building.
Releasing the weapon to Crosshair's awaiting hooves, I scrambled up and steadied my aim at the door. Without warning, it slammed inwards, splinters of wood flying everywhere. With a few metallic sounds a grenade bounced in, coming to rest in the just settling refuse. Curses flying unbidden from my lips, I sprawled out over the floor away from the explosive.
Even with my helmet, the explosion in the entryway was near deafening. Shrapnel, both of wood and metal, shredded into the walls and ceiling. Lifting myself up, I had just enough time to look back at the smouldering entrance before a earth pony came rushing in, assault rifle spraying on full auto. Jumping in between the unarmored zebra and our attacker, a few bullets spanged almost harmlessly off my armour. I felt Crosshair rest the rifle atop my helmet and use me as a firing position.
His rifle sent out three incendiary bullets, they struck their target and sent the attacking pony screaming into the night, his coat aflame. Crosshair stopped leaning on me and began adjusting his rifle as I began walking out the missing door. I felt Crosshair's eyes on my back and for a second, I was gripped by the insane notion that I was about to become a char-grilled pony. I chastised myself as I walked outside the door and looked around. The burning pony lay dead and two others were hiding behind an overturned wagon, my EFS showing them as yellow, rather than red.
Crosshair stepped out and seemed to spot the two ponies taking cover. He shouldered his rifle, taking aim and licking his lips. "Knight Crosshair, just what do you think you are doing?" Crosshair looked at me, giving me a 'You can't be serious look'.
"I am ending these two miserable ponies who sought to end our lives. Did you expect me to heal them?" I sighed in frustration, Crosshair made a valid point.
“They’re amber on my EFS, we should let them go. We need to conserve ammunition for Wintertrot right? The zebra had an odd look on his face, like he had a bitter taste in his mouth. He evidently didn’t enjoy letting these ponies go.
“Are we going to make a practice of letting potential assaulters live?” He asked with a pointed look, he said sarcastically. “Ones that may think avenging friends was a good idea?” His eyebrow hadn’t quite lifted off his head, but it was making a valiant effort.
“We won’t avenge Buckaroo, honest.” One of the would be Raiders cried out.
“Y-yeah, what he said.” A twitchy and jittery earth pony stuttered as she took the bold and dumb move of standing up with a grenade in her mouth. I pointed the zebra rifle at the ground with my magic, holding it in place.
“My ‘friend’ here seems determined to shoot you. Might I suggest getting a move on please. Oh and if I catch you two acting like raiders again. I’ll put a grenade up your arse and pull the pin.” As the two grateful raiders galloped off, I held Crosshair’s rifle in place until they were out of range of my EFS.
I took this time to properly examine my zebra companion. He had a black and white striped coat like all zebra. His tail was solid black, whilst his mane which was the traditional zebra mohawk except he kept it short, like a buzzcut. His glyph mark, as zebras call them, had a small swirl, surrounded by a circle with four lines going through it. Crosshair noticed my pause and gave me a curious glance, prompting me to speak again.
"I apologize Knight Crosshair, this is still a little new to me." Crosshair nodded, an eerily calm expression on his face. My horn lit up and opened my steel saddlebag. "Also I want you to wear this." I levitated out a soft metal suit I had managed to pack, back on the transport. Crosshair took the suit and examined it with a keen eye, he turned it over and over, before he gave me an approving look.
"This is reconnaissance armour, light yet hardy." Crosshair held the gunmetal grey suit up, like it was some bizarre mollusc. I watched as he tried to squirm and slip it on. “Here, let me show you how to put it on.”
I undid the straps around the legs and chest, allowing the zebra to slip into it . The suit clung tightly to his body as he examined how it helped him move more silently.
"There's no helmet for it." I added rather sheepishly as Crosshair practiced some bucking with his hooves, lost in a world of his own. "I'll just let you get used to the armour." I added and turned away as I began to search through the barding of the burnt and bloody, dead raider.
The first light of the day illuminated the boundary between Wintertrot and the wasteland. The cold and lightly frosted tundra ended, and an endless field of dirty grey stretched out before us. I lifted a clump of the slate grey substance and watched it compact into a semi-solid lump in my hoof.
"It's snow you silly Ranger. Don't tell me you haven't seen snow?" Crosshair had an amused smile on his face as he watched my fascination with something he likely considered mundane.
This was snow. Real snow. The first sign of weather besides lightly irradiated rain in Equestria. Perhaps Wintertrot still had seasons? Or maybe it lived up to its name and we were about to trot into a permanently winter landscape. The snow I had picked up was half melted by the time I put my hoof back down. I wordlessly began walking forward, Crosshair following close behind.
Walking along the snowy landscape was a hazardous ordeal. I realized how easy it could be to fall and trip on debris buried in the snow. I went over twice, after tripping over jutting pieces of wreckage, concealed by the cold substance. To add to the hazard, a snow storm kicked up as we continued towards Wintertrot, making me briefly consider turning back. But that would mean we would have to walk back, besieged by a snowstorm.
The cold winds did nothing but give me brain freeze as my exposed horn and small portion of my scalp were exposed to the elements. Crosshair seemed at home in the cold weather, which I considered odd since zebra were from much warmer climes. Perhaps he was from Wintertrot? I knew I would have to pop the question, but exactly how eluded me.
I could swear my horn was starting to freeze up, the core of it seeming to be painfully brittle. I directed Crosshair to look for some shelter, and channelled magic through my horn, hoping in vain to keep it warm. While waiting, I dug through the snow covered ground with my armored hooves. It was an interesting diversion which unearthed a few frozen treasures. When Crosshair saw me digging, his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, and he started to shout something.
I didn’t hear what he said as my vision went black as the ground beneath me exploded, sending me skywards. I ragdolled through the air, my eardrums ringing as I landed painfully on my chest. The soothing sensation of my suit auto-applying med-x, dulled my painful ribs and let me focus on what was happening. My helmet’s display was white, becoming clear again as it rebooted and then red as hostile blips began appearing.
I got back on my hooves and watched as a mound of snow moved towards me with incredible speed. The mound burst open revealing what I thought was a rather large and angry white Yao Guai. It howled as it lunged at me, thick saliva flying from its face as it bounded towards me.
My grenade machine gun roared into life, peppering the area with grenades. I felt the explosives detonate and send up clouds of snow, obscuring my opponent. I halted my barrage after the fifth grenade and found the white terror was still coming at me, its yellowed eyes and pinprick pupils glaring at me. I lifted my Magi-drill and let it speed up as I galloped at my attacker. The beast snarled and swung at me with frightening speed. Its thick claws cleaved away most of a shoulder pauldron, and his teeth latched onto the side of the barrel of my grenade machine gun. I panicked as I tried to pull free and felt the snow white creature lift me with a great wrench of its head.
In my stressed state, I fired my grenade machine gun. The explosive shell hit the teeth in the barrel’s length, blowing the weapon and monster away from me in different directions. The explosion bent my armor into my side, warping the metal and shifting my still broken ribs. My shoulder and side ached horrendously, and I screeched silently with pain.
The monster stumbled back, holding its mangled jaw.
Through the haze of pain I saw an opportunity to kill my attacker, and fired my missile launcher. To my surprise and frustration, however, it dove into the snow and vanished, the missile striking the ground several feet behind where it had been, sending up a cloud of dirtied snow. I could make out some vague lumps moving in the snowstorm, so I staggered towards them, limping on my injured left legs.
Crosshair was locked in a deadly dance with another of the monsters. Seeing this one from a distance, I recognized the creatures as hellhounds, vicious descendants of diamond dogs. This one’s long blade-like claws swung in quick arcs as it tried to slice its striped quarry in half. The zebra was barely keeping his hellhound at bay with a combination of ducking and weaving between it wild and ferocious sweeps.
My own attacker was likely waiting to ambush me again, but rather than wait for him, I stumbled closer to Crosshair’s own skirmish. Crouching low, I positioned myself so I was on the blind side of the hellhound’s vision as I readied my missile launcher, feeling a fresh missile slam into place. I did my best to aim for the hellhound’s back, and fired. The air was pierced by a great, painful keening as the missile impacted against the hellhound, bringing it down to its knees.
Crosshair took advantage of the crippled hellhound, dashing around the heaving monster and scrambling up its back. The Hellhound tried to bat him away, but the zebra was faster, dodging the wild strikes and positioning himself on the injured monsters back.
Crosshair was twisting his hooves, wrapping his hind hooves around its neck, and began slamming the hellhound on the back of its skull. The white beast cried out in fear and pain, bloody dents appearing where the zebra’s hooves struck. I didn’t have time to admire Crosshair’s hoof work as my own attacker was returning, the ground vibrating beneath my hooves.
I quickly levitated a healing potion to the intake slot before I had to leap forward. The snow erupted behind me, giving me just seconds to turn to the right and fire the missile pod. The missile launcher UI flashed in my EFS, reminding me I hadn’t reloaded it, having been too engrossed watching Crosshair fight. As the potion worked through my body, the ringing in my ears gave way to a strange wail, then my hearing came back with a pop. Just in time for the hellhound to howl loudly enough to set my ears ringing again, then bound forward.
I threw myself into a desperate roll to the left and powered on my magi-drill. The purple magic bled off the weapon in violent twist of arcane fury.The sudden flash of purple made the hellhound pause and give me what I presumed was a confused look. I lunged forward, hoof raised so I could drive it into the chest of the white hellhound. Claw met drill as the beast tried to block the blow. An audible crack made the hellhound noticeably wince and stagger back, clasping its right paw.
I admit, I was surprised when I saw blood that wasn’t mine ooze from the hellhounds paw. My drill had actually managed to damage a hellhounds claw, a material that can cut through steel ranger armor. I let a smile creep on my face as I charged the hellhound once more, actually leaping at him as I aimed my magi-drill at his chest. The hellhound wasn’t quick enough to block my second strike; evidently a cracked claw was extremely debilitating.
My magi-drill tunnelled through the hellhounds other hand and began burrowing into its chest. Hot steam arose as the beast’s flesh was cooked and charred by the arcane tool that was hollowing out its chest. The hellhound gave one last gurgle as it fell on its back and lay still. I panted, adrenaline beginning to fail me as the battle ended. I climbed off of the fallen hellhound and looked for Crosshair, wondering where he might have gotten off to.
We moved on, looking like a nearly scrapped Protectapony and a battered Frankenzeebra. Crosshair walked slowly and deliberately, testing the snow in front if his for any more hidden traps. Crosshair had wrapped himself in the two fur coats of the Snowhounds we had barely managed to kill earlier. I walked a few paces behind him, shivering as the cold wind and radioactive snow, assaulted my left side. The gaping hole in my armor had been barely closed by what little scrap metal we had managed to scrounge up.
I began to slow, my eyes drifting upwards at the sight before us. From afar, it had looked much smaller. Now I stood in its vast shadow, Crosshair beside me. He was ignoring the misshapen miracle of nature and architecture before us, and scanning every window and roof top in the surrounding ruins.
Before us, stood what could only be described as a slab. A slab of Ice, steel, concrete and iron. A testament to pony engineering and ingenuity. In front of us was the vast white wall of Wintertrot, frozen in what must have been at least three metres of solid blue ice, coated in an ever constant coating of snow. The snow came crashing down far to the west of us, a vertical avalanche that could easily bury Crosshair and myself in seconds.
There was one entrance, a large hole, where once a massive gate must have stood. Abandoned carriages and wagons littered the road into the tunnel, we passed around the frozen steel chassis and made our way to the entrance. As we passed beneath it, I felt truly small and inconsequential. The whole wall seemed to be pressing down on me. I knew it was paranoid to think like that, but the wall really did feel oppressive, and the fact that it was surrounding us on almost all sides didn't help matters. The roof of the tunnel we passed through was utterly black, except for the wall of red blips above us.
"Knight Crosshair, the roof is full of hostiles." I whispered, doing my best to keep my voice low. Crosshair glanced up and squinted as if he could see into the impenetrable darkness above us.
"Elder Inkwell, it would be wise if we stayed quiet and moved quickly. I fear a brood of Bloodwings has taken roost here." Crosshair walked much more softly his hooves barely ruffled the coating of snow and ice beneath our hooves. “Fortunately for us, they sleep deeply in the cold, almost like hibernation.” I sighed in relief, knowing that at least we had a better chance of going undetected.
My armoured hooves made trying to walk quietly a bad joke, but I could keep the noise low if I went especially slowly. Instead I continued at a brisk pace, hoping the daylight hours would deter any Bloodwings from trying to make a snack out of us.
We made it halfway through the tunnel when Crosshair suddenly looked back at me. An expression of horror written upon his face, sending me into a panicked standstill. Then I noticed he wasn’t so much as looking at the entirety of me, but at my currently resting forehoof. Looking down, I may have peed a little inside my armor. I could see the outer lip of an EMP mine. If I were to lift my hoof, it would go off and shut down my armor until it could be hard booted, making me a sitting duck. Crosshair trotted over to me and pointed to my other hoof.
"Lift your hoof Elder and I might just be able to save your life." I lifted the armoured hoof and nearly went off balance since my magi-drill and missile launcher were both on the same side. Crosshair halted my fall and examined my hoof carefully, small beads of sweat dotted his brow as he struggled to hold me up. He lowered my hoof back down and walked over to my side. Before I could voice my protests, Crosshair was going through my saddle-bag, pulling out a small pair of wire cutters and a needle. When I had picked those up, I couldn't remember, perhaps I had picked them up at the Cutter family shop?
“Lift your hoof as soon as I tell you Elder. Otherwise you're going to have to get out of your power armor in 3 seconds.” I nodded, feeling myself shake a little nervously, he bent low. using the pliers in his mouth to pull at the mine’s casing. As he pulled, the mine almost slid out from under my hoof, luckily the zebra had used one of his own hooves to stop the mine. The zebra ranger spit out the pliers and began toying with the needle, trying to get it to sit right in his mouth, watching Crosshair fumble with the needle gave me an appreciation for hoof-knitting that I hadn't had before.
He placed his left hoof against my own now, pushing against it. “Now Elder!” My hoof lifted and I pivoted around as I prepared to turn and run.
*Beeeee*
The first warning beep filled me with dread, right before it was abruptly cut off. I looked back and much to my relief, the mine hadn't simply delayed in its detonation for dramatic effect. Crosshair had placed his own hooves on the mine to keep it from sliding or moving and used the needle in his mouth to mouth the small trigger inside, disabling the mine.
I let out a sigh of relief and lifted the mine with my telekinesis, floating the explosive device into my Saddlebag, figuring it could come in handy, possibly as barter materiel or against robots. I was about to thank Crosshair when his eyes widened and made frantic motions for me to duck. I ducked down quickly, and felt the air around me grow increasingly colder. Soft, squishy sounds could be heard as something walked down the tunnel behind us.
A luminous blue glow emanated from our unexpected guest; a small indicator in the left hand corner of my vision warned me that I was being exposed to radiation. The hoofsteps stopped on the other side of a carriage we were hiding behind. Crosshair silently moved his hooves as he began to creep around the carriage. I followed, my steel clad hooves muffled by the frost coating the ground.
“Ksssssssshh”
A low guttural hiss seemed to surround us as the hoofsteps drew closer. My fellow ranger slipped behind some crates that had spilled out of a wagon. I followed suite, moving as quietly as possible. I leant against the crate, letting out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. My helmet informed me that the yellow blip was drawing nearer, but I didn't need it to tell me that, because the radiation meter began to tick again, I wasn't safe, not with that gaping hole in my armor.
Crosshair wasn't faring any better, I could see him sagging, an exhausted look on his face. I would've been surprised to see Crosshair fit and ready, given our hunter was generating an insane amount of radiation, at least ten rads per second. We couldn't afford to wait any longer, I floated out a radaway from my saddlebag and hoofed it to Crosshair. I waited, just until the glowing blue rad factory was close and clambered over the crates. My Magi-drill whirred into life as I galloped forward.
“UUUUUUAAAUUGHH!”
The mouth of the glowing pony shrieked when it saw me. It’s rotten flesh seemingly tearing and healing itself. A blue wave shot out from the ghoul, sending out a pulse of radiation, it passed over me, leaving a cold, sick feeling in my stomach. I didn't break stride, hefting my magi-drill up, as the blue ghoul tried to smack me with one of its own rotted hooves. My drill ploughed into the ghouls left shoulder, black blood and rotten tissue being sprayed everywhere. Before I could drive it in deeply, the ghoul’s right hoof connected with my head, leaving my ears ringing as I staggered back.
“You blue bas-” I was cut off mid-sentence as the blue ghoul slammed into me, it’s hooves raining down blows on my helmet as it tried to break through. Cracks began spreading across my helmets HUD went offline as my vision was ruined by the pounding on my helmet. I thrashed desperately, powering on the drill once more as I swung with my right hoof. The magi-drill collided with the ghouls skull, splattering my helmet with black blood.
I grasped the helmet with my magic, releasing the clamps that locked it on and pulled it off. The helmet reeked, like sewer water, mixed with a dead body. I gagged and turned back to Crosshair who was draining a small bag of Radaway.
“Knight Crosshair, are you okay?” The zebra nodded, shuddering as he took rasping breaths. Was the taste of Radaway, that foul to him? Before I could ask him, Crosshair was running over to me, a worried expression on his face.
“Elder Inkwell, are you alright? Do you feel numb anywhere? Cold? Dizzy?” In truth I felt exhausted, probably radiation sickness from that ghoul.
“I'm fine Crosshair, perfect-ly...fi..” The words died in my mouth as I’d tried to lift my right hoof, only it felt like I was trying to lift a lead weight. I looked down, my eyes widening in shock as I saw my entire right hoof was coated in a layer of ice, a ridiculously thick layer of ice. Crosshair tapped the ice, making a dull clicking sound.
“We have to leave right now. We’re lucky all that noise didn't awaken the Bloodwings.” I glanced up at the ceiling, seeing only a solid wall of black. “Come Elder, we are halfway there, we mustn’t stay any longer.”
I groaned as I had to drag my frozen leg, Crosshair standing on his rear hooves and holding his rifle aloft. My leg made a dull clunk, each time it impacted the snow. We walked in near silence, Crosshair carefully watching the road ahead for any more surprises. I considered putting my helmet back on, but scrapped that idea when I saw the ghoul’s blood had soaked my helmet and frozen into a layer of ice. I made a mental note to avoid fighting these ghouls in melee if possible. The exit loomed nearer, I left out a sigh of relief, and wondered how I was going to get my Hoof free.
“Hissssss”
“Oh, Cocknoodles.” The hiss announced the arrival of a ghoul, thankfully of the non-glowing variety. Ghouls began to gallop at us, some pulling themselves out of rusted wrecks and others trying to claw after us or gnash uselessly as their frozen bodies slowed or trapped them. I gave up any pretence of trying to escape quietly and armed my missile launcher, Crosshair was defending us from charging ghouls, his incendiary rounds were setting them ablaze. I noted that some of the ghouls were keeping their distance, merely hissing and spitting as clouds of blue gas seeped out of their misshapen mouths.
“Elder, keep moving! If you stand still your hooves will be frozen!” As Crosshair shouted to me, I saw a pegasus ghoul swoop down at Crosshair.
“CROSSHAIR, ABOVE YOU!” The ghoul was quicker than the zebra, sinking its foul teeth into his right shoulder. I wasted no time, firing my missile into the nearest group of ghouls and began hobbling over to my fellow ranger. I nearly tripped as I approached and swung my frozen hoof, sending the pegasus ghoul screeching and hissing into an overturned carriage. I grunted as I lifted Crosshair with my magic, placing him on my back and began lumbering towards the exit, my frozen hoof pulling and straining at my left leg.
The feral ghouls continued to pounce on us and slow us down. Their teeth were ineffective against my armor, and Crosshair fortunately was able to swat away most of ice zombies that tried to cling and bite us. Still, two of them had managed to get a grip, one on my tail and another was gnawing ineffectually on my rear, right leg armor. My hooves heavy, I dragged us outside the tunnel. Crosshair staggered off of my back, preparing to take down the ghouls with his bare hooves.
Looking into the tunnel, I could see the eerie blue glow of dozens of eyes. Hungry ghouls were ready to pursue us into the city. I looked around in panic, searching for some way I could halt the approaching ghoul horde.
“THE TUNNEL! CLOSE THE TUNNEL!” Crosshair bellowed at me, whilst delivering a good buck to a ghoul’s face, caving it in. I aimed at the tunnel, and fired. Unfortunately I was severely inaccurate without any sort of targeting spell. The missile soared into the tunnel, illuminating the dark passage and the bodies of hundreds of Bloodwings.
*Skeeeeeeeee!*
A horrible screeching, chittering filled our ears as Bloodwings awoke, the beating of their wings was near deafening. I panicked and backed up, tripping over my frozen leg in the process. I fumbled with my magic, trying to load another missile, succeeding in temporarily jamming it.
“Celestia damn this weapon!” I cursed as I cleared the missile launcher’s barrel and reloaded it. Crosshair was firing his zebra rifle, trying desperately to hold off the charging ghouls, the swarm of bloodwings acting as a shield for the frost breathing zombie ponies.
*Skreeeee - Booom*
The missile landed a direct hit above the tunnel, sending a large chunk of ice, cascading down. With a dull clunk, my saddlebag's ammo feed loaded another missile into the weapons system. I let this one loose near where the first had hit, sending more ice tumbling and large spider cracks up the frozen wall.
“One more, I think!” Crosshair called out. His zebra rifle lay discarded, and he had resort to using the assault rifle we had gotten from Buckaroo.
I nodded in agreement and aimed for the large cracks in the wall. The missile launcher roared as it sent out another explosive missile, the projectile’s smoking trail followed it as it made contact with the wall. We got the desired result as slabs of ice, rock, and snow thunderously fell on the tunnel entrance, burying it under a giant pile of rubble.
“There is no turning back now Elder. The nearest exit from here is all the way at the eastern side of the city.” I nodded dumbly, still admiring the ruined carriage tunnel. “Come Elder, we must find shelter.”
Before us lay mighty skyscrapers and industrial buildings, streets choked with old carriages and skywagons. A whole road was blocked off by a collapsed, office building. I let Crosshair lead the way as we took our first steps into Wintertrot.
The buildings around us were blurred as the heavy winds and snowfall began to kick up. They grew out of the surrounding blurry landscape, like great grey monsters. I approached one frozen door and tried to buck it open. Crosshair facehoofed as I fell forwards, the ice easily resisting my attack.
"Elder Inkwell it is not wise to make unnecessary noise. You might attract something." Crosshair's voice was muted a little by howling wind, but still audible. I cocked my head at him in curiosity.
"We've taken on Wintertrot ghouls and Snowhounds, Crosshair. What could be more dangerous than those abominations?" Crosshair's orange eyes stared at me for a moment that went on far too long, his eyes had a glazed look as he finally replied.
"You will see soon enough Elder." The cryptic message was made worse by the finality in his voice as he began walking ahead. I trotted after him, not wanting to get separated.
Our Journey into the city finally led us to a building with a way in. Someone had blown a hole in the side of an old diner, evidence suggesting it was an old wound on the structure’s frozen facade. We made our way inside, and found the snow covered interior was at least marginally better than being out in the snow. Crosshair seemed to blend in with the grey, snow covered room as he disappeared into the shadows. I made my way towards the back rooms and found myself in what looked like an old staff room, complete with lockers and a coffee machine in the corner.
The greedy little pony inside me, rubbed his hooves together in anticipation as I began to loot the cupboards. I found a box of apple bombs cereal, a box of instamash (Just add water.), six cans of beans and a bizarre product called T.I.T Instant meals. I turned to leave and instead saw Crosshair enter, dragging a dirty old mattress into the room.
“Where did you find that thing Crosshair?”
“I found it upstairs elder, it is better we sleep down here however. The upper floors are terribly exposed to the elements.” Crosshair the mattress over to a wider patch of the floor, close to a set of worktops. “Elder,you should rest for now, I’ll take the first watch.”
My body eagerly complied as I trudged over and stepped out of my heavy and partially frozen armor, before collapsing on the reasonably soft mattress.
The heavy hoof-falls awoke me from my slumber. The wind outside had stopped howling, which probably meant the snow had as well. Whoever was outside the room sounded much larger than a regular pony, but those were definitely hooves I heard on the other side of the room. The hooves paused outside the door, I glanced around the room and noticed Crosshair’s absence.
The door shifted forward as the pony on the other side opened the door with excessive brute force. A large head poked into the room, it's huge nostrils flaring as it sniffed the room. It glanced at the mattress on the floor and saw me.
"Ha ha! FOUND YOU!"
Footnote
Inkwell: Level 2
Perk Added: No Pain, No Gain - You gain 25% more experience when crippled, and your DT is permanently increased by 2.
Crosshair: Level 1
Perk Added: Rifle Enthusiast - You are good with rifles, you can zoom in further and have increased accuracy with any rifle, but only when standing on only two hooves.
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 3: T.I.T “The horror! THE HORROR~!”
Let me say right now, I wasn't scared. I was beyond scared, to the point where I could no longer think. My horn flared up instinctively, illuminating the darkened room with a burst of grey light.
"Grah! Stupid pony... LIGHT!" The heavy and strained voice of my uninvited guest cried out whilst I pulled myself onto my hooves. I didn't need my helmet’s EFS to know this creature was hostile. I went to ready my grenade machinegun, only to remember that I wasn’t wearing any power armor. And worse, my grenade machinegun was a chewed and blown up pile of slag, likely buried under an inch of snow by now.
The angry super-pony had finally adjusted to the sudden burst of light and proceeded to enter the back room. I backpedaled quickly, glancing around the room in panic, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. Unfortunately, the back room seemed to lack any implements of war, not even a filthy knife.
“Oh BUCK!” I screamed in a totally non-filly fashion as a hoof like a brick cuffed my left ear and went into the plaster wall behind me. I scrambled to my hooves and ran across the other side of the room as the massive pony heaved his hoof out of the wall, leaving a large hole.
“STAND STILL AND DIE!” Yeah, like that was going to happen. I bolted over to my power armor, opening up the steel saddlebag. The ground trembled as the mutant pony made to charge me, I yanked the assault rifle and leapt out of the way as meat and bone met magic power armor.
Power armor won, the mutant pony staggering back with a bleeding skull. I grinned as I levitated the rifle and fired.
*Click... click, click,click*
“OH COME ON!” The assault rifle was empty, no-better than a steel baton. The assault rifle swung through the air and smacked my would be assailant. I didn’t let up, focusing on beating the massive pony with my improvised club. The stallion angrily snapped his teeth and swung his heavy hooves at the rusty gun as I skirted around the aggravated pony and once again over to my power armor. All I needed was a weapon, any weapon with ammunition! I started rummaging around inside my saddlebag.
*CRUNCH*
The sound of crushed metal greeted my ears, I turned around expecting the rifle to be stomped underhoof. Instead the angry giant had unslung a sledgehammer he was lugging around on his back and smashed the rifle into the ground.
“T’M TER DER!” Never was such a muffled sentence so terrifying. The massive sledgehammer swung back as the heavy pony charged at me, preparing the haymaker of all hammer blows. I did the only thing I could, which in no way involved screaming like a filly as I practically threw myself into a sideways roll. I howled in pain, feeling the hammer blow graze my ribs and tried to drag myself away from the mutant pony.
*CRACK-THOOM, CRACK-THOOM*
A deafening gun report made my ears ring, before the very heavy and meaty corpse of the super mutant slumped forward, landing on top of me.
"Ah Elder, good to see you're still alive." Crosshair walked in speaking around a sawn-off shotgun he had in his mouth. He placed the shotgun in a small sack he was carrying on his side, before moving over to help me.
"Elder Inkwell, meet the Super Stallions." Crosshair tapped the dead Super Stallion on the back. "Come on now Super Stallion, introduce yourself to my Elder." Crosshair glanced up at me and sighed.
"Sorry for leaving you alone Elder Inkwell. I heard them come in, and got up to deal with them." Crosshair trotted over to my sleeping place and picked up my helmet. "This one must have slipped past me." He gestured to the beheaded mutant and then waved a hoof to the door.
“Can’t... breath. Heavy...corpse..crush-sh-sh...” Crosshair standing on his rear legs, used his front legs to slowly lift the heavy body off of me. I took a deep and grateful breath, wincing as my ribs reminded me they were in pain.
“We cannot delay treatment any longer Elder. Your ribcage looks distressingly out of place and you’re covered in cuts and bruises.” Before I could respond, Crosshair began clearing a patch of floor, my mattress having been caked in blood and brain matter.
Whilst Crosshair busied himself, I decided to root through the super stallion’s corpse for anything that might prove useful. He had been wearing some rough leather armor, full of bullet holes and a metal dish of some kind had been bent and warped beyond recognition, shaped into a single shoulder pad. Searching the armor for pockets proved fruitless, earning nothing but a damp and bloody hoof for my trouble.
I tried opening a saddlebag? cage? on the beast’s back, resembling a shopping trolley that had been compacted into much smaller dimensions through sheer muscle power. I tried prying open the steel backpack, a very small piece of metal evidently meant to act as a lock, resisted my initial efforts. The lock finally started to give as I twisted the firm metal in my telekinetic grip, when Crosshair started poking me.
“You blind fool, are you so strung out you can’t see how misshapen your chest is? Lie down now, before I have to make you!”
I wasn’t about to take this crap from my own First Knight. I did my best to imitate the glare my old drill instructor gave me and opened my mouth. “I’ll have you knooooo~” And that was as far as I got. My head spun as I fell face first onto the cold floor.
I awoke to a wet meaty crack, and an intense pain the likes of which I’d never experienced in my chest. Cold bands held my legs splayed wide as my struggles began. Sinister zebra laughter echoed in the dark dank room and I’ll admit with shame I peed myself.
A deep chanting began as flames danced on the edge of my vision, illuminating a hideous torture room. When I tried to focus on any one thing, my vision blurred and warped, making the shadows seem to distend and flex in unnaturally life-like ways. The screams of the damned seemed to emanate from empty cages hanging from the roof and standing on tall thin spires.
I felt it more than heard the blade as it danced along the walls, just barely eluding my sight. A terrible longsword, shaped like a scalpel, generated sparks as it was scraped along the walls, the tip of the blade glowed red as if fresh from the forge. “Ah Elder, good to see you’re awake. And here I was worried I had hit you too hard...” The gleeful and all too familiar voice whispered right next to my ear, making me flinch.
“C-C-Crosshair... what... what the hell are you doing?” I stammered, my eyes bugging out as Crosshair rose up so he could face me. His eyes were solid globes of orange light that left glowing contrails as he moved. His coat, normally pure white and black was dyed rust red by the layers of dried blood that soaked him.
His terrible visage slowly swam out of focus for a moment, to be replaced by his normal self. A look of concentration and concern flickered on his face before returning to a smile that literally reached ear to ear. The scalpel sword spun on the tip of his left hoof before slowly coming to a stop, the blade’s tip pointing directly at me. The knife moved over my chest, the heat from the blade, black blackening my coat without even touching it.
Looking down as it came ever closer, I could see that he had already split me open like some lab experiment gone horrendously wrong. As the infernal blade reached ever closer to my ribcage, an intense feeling of vileness washed over me. And then my organs began to squirm. Flexing and slithering away, they tried to avoid the torture implement with seemingly sentient fear.
“Keep your eyes open, my humble Elder. Your insides tell of death and decay. Watch them as they tear and sunder, then turn black and rot away.” The nightmarish zebra’s smile seemed to only grow wider as the blade tip descended, the hot edge searing flesh and charring bone. For a moment, the dark room vanished. Crosshair was a white and black striped blur with red splotches, speaking in tongues for all I knew, his hooves working methodically inside my chest.
For a moment, his teeth grit and I felt more than heard a pop. Then my whole chest moved and the unbearable pain I had been barely enduring blew my brain like a fuse.
Wintertrot is entirely different when it isn't being assaulted by snow storms. The sun actually does break through the clouds here, admittedly it's only slivers of light, but they add so much colour to the grey drab world we all inhabit. Watching them through a gritty, warped and boarded up window using Crosshair’s rifle scope was my main source of entertainment for a good half week. I lay on the mattress sullenly, the days passing slowly for me. I felt a pang of guilt as I watched Crosshair head out each day while I recovered.
My magic might allow me to use weapons, as long as I wasn’t hurting too bad, but my body needed time to heal. I held onto the shotgun Crosshair had used, I decided it would be best to familiarise myself with the crappy, yet effective gun. I took the gun apart, looking for ways I might be able to improve the shotgun. It was already a bit of a liability being such a short-range weapon, but maybe I could make it more reliable?
I levitated the broken remains of my assault rifle out of saddlebags in the corner. The sad remains of my temporary firearm were tightly crushed together, I had to work my hooves, teeth and magic to pull the gun apart. The main body was useless, a caved in mess, but the firing pin, safety and grip and stock had survived relatively intact. They were certainly in better condition than the shotgun’s own parts.
I first decided to try and replace the firing pin first, I mean it should be the easiest part to swap out. Unfortunately, the shotgun firing pin was thicker than the rifle’s own. Cursing, I decided to compare the stock and safety, finding them both to be inappropriate matches. I threw the rest of the rifle away in frustration. The shotgun could be powerful, but its ammo limited it to a short range weapon, I levitated the twelve gauge shells over to me, turning one of them over.
I levitated a combat knife from my saddlebag and carefully slit along the side of it, from top to bottom. I then set the shell on top of an old magazine, ‘The Who’s Who of Canterlot’, and peeled open the plastic shell to examine the inner workings. There appeared to be a large metal slug, resting inside a metal case of some sort. Carefully pulling the shell wider, I slid the two pieces of metal out with my telekinesis. Behind the casing was a plastic padding with holes in the side of it. Pulling this out, I was confronted by a tightly packed wad of paper. The wadding was actually a bit hard to get out, but after removing this, I was able to finally see the shell’s powder. Levitating over a dry tin can, I dumped the powder into it. Looking down into brass casing of the shell, I could see the primer sitting in the center of the bottom.
Looking at the odd assortment of items that went into the ammunition, I tried to imagine it working in the weapon itself. Firing pin to primer. Primer ignites powder. Powder punches into the paper wadding. Wadding squishes, and absorbs some of the shock. Then the strange plastic bit... It seemed to have a spiral line of support. Taking impact from the wadding and powder, the structure would collapse slightly, giving it a bit of a twist. Then the casing and slug would launch down the barrel. Looking at the casing, it was obvious that the slits in the side of it would catch along any rifled barrel, making for a nice spin on the slug to help its accuracy.
It all made sense now, and with a little help, this ammo could easily be improved. And I had the ideal ammo I could use to make the improvements. I levitated out the twenty five millimetre grenades for my now non-existent grenade machinegun and decided to take one of them apart. The smooth grenade shell was easy for me to disassemble, all I needed was some empty shells and I could make some proper ammo.
Crosshair returned that night, carrying pieces of frozen meat and some kind of small animal pelts. I figured not asking about them was the safest route to take. He had been more talkative, trying to get me to talk about my time as a younger ranger. I usually deflected the questions with half-truths, giving vague answers like ‘It was alright’ or ‘Can’t complain really’. I mean I should’ve been thrilled he was talking to me, but the events two days prior, the nightmarish version of him, hovering over my chest, still had me spooked.
It was difficult being in the same room as him at times. I never said anything, but I knew he could tell something was wrong. The awkward silence we were enduring whilst waiting for the slightly irradiated meat to cook was stifling, I glanced around, desiring something I could talk about.
“I see you have been busy Elder. I notice you’ve decided to destroy your grenades for some reason.” I felt a smile creep onto my face, now I had something I wanted to talk about.
“You’re way off, my striped friend. I haven’t been destroying valuable ammo, I’ve been repurposing it!” I paused briefly to reach for the box of modified slugs I had kept close at hoof. “These are what I have been making.” I levitated one over to Crosshair, his face showing genuine curiosity. He played with the shell, seemingly weighing my modified slug in his hooves.
“It’s heavier,” He stated, obviously perplexed. Frowning slightly, he brought it closer to his face, examining it with a critical eye. “Much heavier...”
“I know, brilliant isn’t it? It’s my very own, custom made slug.” I beamed, showing pride at my own hoofwork.
“Elder, I hope that I don’t need to tell you that overpacking powder is not a safe method of making stronger rounds.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Please, stars above, don’t tell me you mixed the propellant powder with the grenade’s!”
“Only one way to find out.” I said with a smile. I started hovering the shell over the fire, and Crosshair went whiter than usual. “Nah I’m just foolin with you. No sense in spoiling a perfectly good dinner.” Crosshair let out a sigh of relief, slumping slightly. “We can test fire the rounds right now.” Crosshair bolted, the room door swinging as he darted downstairs.
The next morning I was well enough to walk, with my power armor on, I wouldn’t have any trouble supporting myself, the suit would just have to do... seventy percent of the work. I decided it would be a good idea to test out the shotgun, so we started looking for a lone mutie to practice on. It had taken a lot of acting, and maybe a Med-X or two to make it more convincing to get Crosshair to relent to my demands, but in the end, I like to think my infectiously good humor and charm won out.
We saw a couple of their hulking forms down the end of one street, and Crosshair spied another on one of the roofs, wielding a missile launcher. We slipped past these muties, looking for easier prey. We ducked through alleyways and hid behind bins or other old wreckage searching for a lone Super Stallion, hoping one would trot past us.
"Crosshair, how prevalent are these Super Stallions?" I whispered as we emerged onto a street clear of the vile mutants.
"They are fairly common, especially in the commercial district." Crosshair's orange eyes scanned the street with the well trained eyes of a hawk as we moved onwards. I found the cold to be much more tolerable than it had been earlier, and I relaxed a little hoping the worst Wintertrot had to plague us with was behind us.
We passed through the frozen city, my helmet's E.F.S combined with Crosshair's knowledge of the city kept us relatively safe. We had to avoid a few streets due to the number of Super Stallions crowding them. Several tense hours of sneaking through the ruined streets had put us both in sullen moods, but for different reasons. I was of the mind that we could, with the shotgun rounds, probably, take on two mutants at once. If we got the jump on them. Crosshair seemed to be growing tired of my weedling at him to test my perfectly safe innovations.
“Elder Inkwell, the chance of finding a lone mutant in this city is like finding just one bloatsprite, there’s always more, just around the corner.”
“I dunno Crosshair, I’ve certainly seen lone bloatsprites before.” I argued. “Besides couldn’t you make that argument for anything?” Crosshair’s eye twitched, right before he gave me a deadpan stare.
“Oh, I’m sorry, who’s lived most of his life in Wintertrot again?” I decided not to answer, I could tell Crosshair was getting irritable again.
Our lack of luck in finding lone muties to shoot was not going to deter me from firing the shotgun. “Fine Crosshair, you win this time. We’ll give up the mutie hunt.” Crosshair couldn’t keep the smug grin off his face. “You can just shoot that door instead.”
Crosshair facehoofed, letting out yet another sigh. “Elder, I do not think this is a good idea.”
I nodded, ensuring the barrel of the shotgun wasn’t jammed with snow or anything. Hoofing it over to the zebra, I rolled my eyes. “Look Crosshair, stop worrying and just fire the gun, it’s perfectly safe.” I then proceeded to the minimum safe distance of thirty feet, behind a broken brick wall. “Okay, go ahead.”
Crosshair proceeded to stand there and stare at me. “You said this was supposed to be safe?” He asked, looking at the gun like it was a radscorpion waiting to sting him in the eye.
“Completely safe Crosshair. Just go ahead and fire that little beauty.”
Crosshair fidgeted, glancing between me and the door. “If it’s so safe, then why are you all the way over there... behind a wall. In power armor...?” He put emphasis on power armor, giving me an accusing glare.
Giving an exasperated sigh, I facehooved a bit harder than I meant to. “Crosshair, I’m standing at Brotherhood standard procedure safety distance for testing of new armament and munitions. Now stop being a cocknoodle and just fire the damn thing!”
Crosshair threw up his forelegs in frustration, before standing on his rear legs and aiming the shotgun with his forelegs. In retrospect, I probably should’ve mounted it on a battle-saddle.
“Stars above, please protect me.” Crosshair mumbled around the shotgun trigger, before pulling it. Two things happened, the shotgun fired and Crosshair simultaneously performed a backflip due to the recoil, eyes as wide as dinner plates.
The door he had fired on opened, just as Crosshair fired. One second there was a vaguely ponyesque shape, the next there was a fireball and a broken set of double doors. I ran out of my cover, concerned the shotgun barrel might’ve breached or worse, Crosshair was unconscious. I approached the downed zebra, shaking him gently. He rolled around, aiming the shotgun at my face, his gums bleeding and his nose looking distinctly squashed.
“DIS IB ALL YOUB FAULB!” Crosshair bellowed, before lowering the shotgun and massaging his nose with his left hoof. I tried, I really tried to fight it back, but Crosshair’s nasally vocabulary brought involuntary giggles. Crosshair glowered, trying to take a swipe at me. “Ib’s nob funneh”
Before I could start making jokes about Crosshair’s speech, one the broken doors was kicked off of its loose hinges. A mutie stepped out, his face blackened and cut with the broken scraps of a helmet on his head.
“I'M GOING TO WEAR YOUR BONES! AROUND. MY NECK!” The obviously pissed off mutie bellowed, charging at us. I levitated the shotgun, loading the first round I could find into it.
“SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!” I ordered in a calm if loud manner, handing Crosshair the shotgun. He complied, aiming it using his forehooves, his tail acting like a counterweight and keeping him balanced. The shotgun roared, sending us both tumbling as Crosshair crashed into me. The super stallion was engulfed in an explosion, the shotgun shell completely decapitating him.
“Pushon” Crosshair grumbled. I shrugged standing up and started walking. “Pushon, I Wahb a Pushon.” It took a second for it to click, before I was mentally facehoofing.
“Right, healing potion. My bad.” I uncorked a bottle of the cherry colored concoction and hoofed it over to him. After some rather unpleasant crunching and cracking sounds from his nose, Crosshair downed the liquid.
“I think we can safely say this weapons test has been a complete success.” Crosshair eyed the shotgun before he nudged it towards me. “You’re the one with power armor and hoof mounted drills Elder, you use it.” I gave a half nod, not sure how to respond, Crosshair clearly didn’t enjoy my innovative ammunition. I levitated the shotgun into my saddlebag, plans already forming on how I could mount it to a battle-saddle.
“You know Elder, I almost mistook you for a filly in power armor...” I suddenly liked it better when I couldn’t understand him. I kept my complaints to myself, grumbling a little as we walked over to the steaming corpse. “Nothing... this one has nothing on him.” Crosshair muttered to himself as he searched the body.
“What about in there?” I asked, pointing to the doors that had been blown off. “You think there might be something worth taking?” The interior of the building looked like it lead down some hallways, possibly into an atrium of some kind.
“It should be worth a look Elder.” Crosshair mused before we made our way inside, a large banner was hung in the atrium, proudly proclaiming ‘Welcome to Trotsworth Independent Technologies’. Crosshair gave it a glance and then continued to scan the room, his rifle sitting in his recon suit's battle-saddle.
Looking again at the banner, I froze and felt a stupid grin spread across my face. I giggled, causing Crosshair to give me a confused expression. I burst out laughing, much to Crosshair's alarm.
"Are you mad Elder, what is the matter with you?" I chortled pointing at the banner.
"Th-that banner, hee hee, it's initials. The initials for Trostsworth independent technologies is T.I.T... Tit!"
Crosshair's deadpan expression was back, clearly we didn't share a sense of humor. I sighed and lifted my helmet off to wipe away a mirthful tear. Crosshair shook his head, walking ahead whilst mumbling to himself about immature ponies. Suddenly he paused about five feet from me, his ears twitched, his head turning to the right quickly.
Crosshair aimed his rifle as a large stallion came barreling into the atrium. His eyes glanced at us both quickly, before looking behind himself. “Quickly get down, this will be an ideal ambush site.” Without waiting for a reply, the stallion barreled into Crosshair, scooping the confused and struggling zebra up and onto his back. He dropped Crosshair behind an old receptionist’s desk and galloped over to me.
“Who the buck are yo-GLK!” was all I managed to get out, before the massive stallion clotheslined me into cover with him. He crouched low, peeking just around the pillar we were hiding behind. I tried desperately to not make too much noise as I struggled for air, however breathing seemed less important as a series of heavy hoof falls cracked the fragile floor as a group of ponies entered the room.
“Come out, come out. We know you are here!” That voice, the all too familiar voice of a super stallion. After finally getting a hold of my choking, I edged around the pillar, sneaking a glance at them. There were two of them, both wearing heavier armor than the ones we’d encountered earlier, clearly we would need to have a cunning plan. I spotted movement in my peripheral vision and turned in time to see a minigun being levelled and aimed just beside my head.
*Skreeeee, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack.*
MY EYES! Sweet Luna and Celestia my eyes, the brightness of barrel blinded me as it unleashed a hailstorm of bullets. The weapon’s roar deafened me this close to my head. Why did I take off my helmet!?
The minigun slowed down and finally stopped, but the striations along my vision and the dull thunder in my ears didn’t. The large stallion poked me, trying to get my attention. I could see his lips moving, but all I could hear was a damnable ringing.
“WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING! WHAT?!” I bellowed, my own voice sounding muffled, like listening in through a thick door. I pushed my hooves against my ears, popping them in a vague hope of reestablishing my hearing. The large stallion trotted away from me and began speaking to Crosshair, the large unicorn looking a little embarrassed as he spoke. I decided to go and loot the super stallion corpses, whilst I waited for my hearing to come back.
"I really am sorry about earlier. Heat of the moment and all that.” The pine green unicorn spoke, smiling sheepishly as we trotted through the corridors. “I don’t believe I introduced myself? I am Mustang, perhaps you’ve heard of me?" Honestly I hadn’t, then again, who names their colt after a breed of pony, albeit the most stallionesque pony.
“Er...no, sorry. I haven’t heard of you before.” He seemed to deflate a little. Setting his eyes into a distant stare, he took in a slow but deep breath. “I am Mustang the Thunderhoof,” he boomed while striking a pose on his rear legs. “The saviour of Crow’s Nest, and bringer of Indiscriminate Justice to the forces of Evil!” Watching him sure was impressive, and for a moment, he seemed to be backlit by a slowly growing glow. Staring a bit harder, I noticed his mane sweeping gently in the breeze. Still being inside, I couldn’t help but wonder where the draft was coming from...
"I also cook." He added casually. I very quickly decided I needed him for my contingent. Crosshair could cook decently enough, but it was all exotic zebra stuff that left a weird aftertaste in my mouth. And I am a little ashamed to admit that my own ‘wilderness survival skills’ were more than lacking.
I took a two legged stance myself, and introduced myself. "Well, I am Elder Inkwell. Current leader of the Wintertrot Steel Rangers." I wobbled a little and went back down. "And over there is my first knight, Knight Crosshair." Crosshair was standing on his rear hooves to reach a high shelf in one of the rooms we passed and gave a wave with one of his free forehooves. Honestly, how did Mustang and Crosshair manage those weird poses for so long.
“Aren’t you a little young to be an elder?” Mustang asked, eyebrows raised.
“Why yes...Yes I am.” I stated proudly. Not mentioning how the rest of my contingent had been burnt alive. That would’ve put a downer on the conversation.
"Truly it must be fate that I stumbled on you in your hour of need." He said, grabbing me into a massive bearhug. A small groaning sound emanated from my power armor as the giant muscles along his body flexed, and I could feel a steadily increasing pressure on my healing ribs.
“Uh...” I said intelligently. I would've protested that we didn't need help, then remembered I did need help. Crosshair could easily take care of himself, as he had lived here, after all. Mustang finally let me down and my armour's repair talisman kicked in, easing the warped armor on my chest plate back into place.
The burly Stallion trotted over to Crosshair.
"Hi ho, my Zebra friend. I see a warrior's spirit in your eyes." Mustang's white teeth shone through his thick black beard as he smiled. Crosshair was in his deadpan mode and nodded in recognition as he went about looting the drawers of an office desk.
"Tell me... Crosshair, wasn't it?" Crosshair nodded as he added to the pile of scavenged loot he was piling up. "Ah yes, Crosshair then. I wanted to know if there are more of your striped brethren within this noble order?" My heart stopped, I didn't know whether it was a good idea to tell Mustang there were only two of us. More importantly I didn’t know if my zebra ranger would be peeved at having his people classed as striped. Crosshair spoke before I had a chance to intervene.
"I am... sorry to say that my brothers and sisters do not share my... Elder's values." He said, his eyes flicking over to me for a moment. Mustang raised one of his big, bushy eyebrows and looked back to me as well.
"You're saying there are only two of you?" He asked, seemingly taken aback.
I nodded lamely, realizing how silly it sounded. Two Rangers alone in hostile territory, surely Mustang would think we were a pair of loons and leave. “At the moment, yes.”
"That... That is..." He swept Crosshair up in one of his arms. "TRULY NOBLE!" His thunderous voice echoed out throughout the building. I swear I saw icicles on parts of the roof vibrating at the sound of his voice.
"In enemy territory, against insurmountable odds. The Steel Rangers boldly continue to protect the weak and innocent." Mustang had released Crosshair and pulled off a valiant pose, one hoof raised as he spoke.
"I, Mustang shall hereby be honoured to follow brave souls such as thee." I could swear I was seeing tiny sparkles around his face, and unless he was hiding a tiny unicorn's horn beneath that bushy, curly mane of his, I had no explanation for it.
"Uh.... Very good." I smiled awkwardly, looking to Crosshair who was now watching me as well. "I hereby promote you to knight-" Mustang's eyes seemed to somehow darken. "I mean, I hereby promote you to Star Paladin Mustang." A stray beam of sunlight cut through a hole in the roof illuminating Mustang.The stallion nodded at me approvingly, and I felt the atmosphere warm up considerably.
“Now then, let me introduce you to my gun.” He said with a winning smile, leveling his weapon at me.
Footnote: Level Up
Inkwell: Level 2 No Level advancement.
New Trait Added: Fitful Rest - Due to recent events, your mind has become a disturbing place. You need to sleep 50% longer to feel as refreshed as others. You are also more likely to have bad dreams. (This Trait is not compatible with the Deep Sleep perk.)
Crosshair: Level 2
Perk Added: Calling Doctor Hooves - You know your way around the equine body. With this perk, you are capable of performing emergency medical procedures in less than safe places.
Mustang has joined the party. Mustang: Level 1
Perk Added: Bigger Guns - You love big guns, and have the muscle mass to move with them. You can wield large and cumbersome guns with ease, including non-equine heavy weapons.
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 4: Beans, Bullets, Bandages “When field stripping the T-45d Powered Armor Helmet, first unclasp the holding clamps...”
“WOAH THERE,” I yelled, pushing the minigun barrels away from my face. “Let’s be clear; the first rule of proper safety of firearms usage should be to never point the business end at friendlies.”
Mustang smiled sheepishly, eyes darting to me and the gun, before lowering it. “It is refreshing to see such care around guns in one as young as yourself.” I groaned internally, of course I knew my guns, I’m a Steel Ranger, weapons technology is practically all we’re invested in. Crosshair was exiting the last office on this floor, adding the items he’d gathered into the pile he had been building.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to take it all Crosshair.” I commented, glancing at the pile of miscellaneous goods he had piled together. “Just take the most valuable stuff” I added, before turning to ask if Mustang could carry some of the loot, only to find an empty space. How did a stallion that big move so quietly?
“MUSTANG! Where are you?” I called out, my voice echoing the halls. There was an awkward silence, followed by some strange shuffling sounds as Mustang made his way downstairs, wearing some bizarre harness. “What the hell is that thing?” The harness, neck-jewellery... whatever it was, appeared to be made of solid steel.
“It’s a yoke Elder,” Mustang proclaimed amiably. “A tool used on rural farms. Before they became industrialised.” The yoke looked to be heavy, I knew I’d struggle carrying something like that. Mustang seemed to pick up what I was thinking, as he burst out laughing. “Bah ha ha ha ha ha, oh Elder, this wasn't a farm tool.” Well obviously, it was clearly too heavy. ”It’s armor!”
...What?
“I used to wear a wooden yoke, funny story actually...” Oh please, Luna, Celestia, not a story about something mundane as farming equipment. “But that is a tale for another day.” A small relieved smile worked its way onto my face. “Instead, let me tell you the story of my gun. I call him Hailstorm, he is an M134 minigun.” Naming weapons? And giving them a gender? I’d say that was creepy, if I hadn't seen it done by so many other Steel Rangers.
“I first found Hailstorm clutched in the talons of a dead griffin.” Mustang began walking, I moved to follow, Crosshair following at our heels soon afterwards. “The griffin was surrounded by an army of corpses, their bodies broken or splattered under the immense firepower of this weapon.” My eyes went to the matte green and black minigun, a newfound sense of respect and foreboding starting to form.
“Can you believe I initially ignored this magnificent weapon? Such a young foal I was, I mean can you believe I went for a Plasma Caster?” Wait what?
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. You found a working plasma caster? Just lying out in the wasteland?” I asked, looking at Mustang skeptically.
“Well no Elder, it wasn't just out in the wasteland.” Ah good, clearly pony scavengers just hadn't found it yet. “I found it outside an irradiated military base...” My greedy inner pony was salivating at this news. “All the way in the great deserts of the Ponave... or was it the Moohave desert, I forget which.” And there went any hopes of raiding nearby military bases for supplies.
“Anyway, back to the story of my gun. I was levitating the plasma caster off the dried out corpse of a pony, when I was attacked by ghouls.” My mind drifted back to the ghouls we encountered in the tunnels, making me briefly wonder if Mustang had come across them too. “Now these ghouls weren't your standard ghouls, their skin was baked hard as leather, their combat armor fused to their rotted hides. As a young ch-aaAAACHOO!”
I flinched as Mustang let out a boisterous sneeze. Scuttling sounds could be made out as nearby vermin fled from their hidey holes. "Ah, excuse me Elder. As I was saying, a young child such as myself mistakenly thought energy weapons were better because they’re flashy.” He paused, stepping over a stack of old papers, a queer smile on his face.
“Like a colt with a new toy, I decided to show off and use the one weapon I didn't know anything about. The glitzy gun misfired horribly, sending plasma spitting into the air around the ghouls, but not hitting any of them. I panicked, searching for a new weapon, when my eyes locked on this green beauty. I knew what to do.” Mustang paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I hefted him with my magic and managed to find the firing mechanism. I dropped Hailstorm the first time I used him, his sheer weight and recoil caught me off guard. I managed to prop him up on the poor griffin’s body and use him as a firing position. The ghouls leather hides and toughened armour were nothing in Hailstorms wrath, his purging fury tearing flesh from bone and limbs from bodies.” Okay, getting a creepy vibe here, the seemingly plain minigun was starting to sound like a slasher villain from a holotape.
“I’ve carried Hailstorm ever since that day.” He finished, giving the minigun a gentle squeeze. Of course, gentle is a relative term, as the metal still groaned under the unicorn’s caress. It was a great story, asides from some parts where Mustang started calling his weapon by name. I reflected sadly that my weapons didn't have any history. I mean where were they when I was being attacked by radscorpions dammit?
I glanced at my shotgun, tiny in comparison, making me feel far too under equipped. I’d have to make it bigger. Better. Stronger. Faster. I would make it... The Million Cap Shotgun. I was brought out of my brief fantasy as Crosshair wandered past, trotting ahead quickly.
“Keep up Elder. Or are you trying to act like an elder pony now too?” So unfair, I was just mesmerized by a riveting story. Plus, now that I thought about it, I had a huge amount of... uh... stuff! On my back! Weighing me down! Muttering to myself, I followed my rangers up to the last floor.
The final floor proved to be more... daunting than the previous five or six, seriously we walked up five floors listening to Mustang’s story. The rooms we encountered on this floor had all been sealed by some sort of emergency lockdown. I was certain I could lift the lockdown on this floor and maybe some of the other floors if I could access the central terminal.
The central terminal occupied forty percent of this floor, the rest of the rooms were built around it. We passed by a few doors which let us see into the terminal’s housing room. Eerie red light seeped around the doors, long slivers of red light illuminated the corridors as we looked for a way into the terminal room.
“Any luck Crosshair?” I asked for what felt like the twentieth time as Crosshair tried to pick the lock on one of the doors. Crosshair grunted in response, focused solely on picking the lock with a bobby pin and a screwdriver he was manipulating in his mouth.
“Could we not just build a battering ram and break down the door?” It was an inventive solution, one we sadly couldn't apply here.
“That’s a no-go, Mustang. If we force our way into the room, it might cause the terminal’s systems to believe we’re unauthorised personnel and simply shut down or worse, fry the whole database.” I dreaded the idea of losing such potentially valuable information, especially considering the bad luck I’ve had recently. Picking the lock had a slimmer chance of causing the security systems to label us as hostiles.
“So Mustang, what exactly were you doing here anyways?” I asked, trying to fill the empty silence around us, while my zebra friend worked.
“Ah ha, yes about that. I was just... scavenging the bottom floor for ammo.” That was a blatant lie, his ammo feed was bulging with belts of five millimeter rounds. Seemingly sensing my suspicion, Mustang elected to simply ignore me, suddenly finding the ceiling fan very interesting.
“This lock is either cursed by the stars or rusted shut, Elder. I've broken five bobby pins whilst trying to pick it.” Crosshair lamented, showing me the bent pins. I looked at the keyhole sitting there, taunting us with its existence. We couldn't batter it down and we couldn't pick its lock, so that left searching for a key.
“Alright everypony, looks like we’ll need to find the key.” Crosshair groaned, planting his forehead on the door whilst Mustang looked thoughtful rubbing his chin. “I know it’ll be a chore going from floor to floor, searching for one elusive key, but we gotta do it.” I was not looking forward to it myself, but I had to seem at least marginally enthusiastic. “Alright Rangers, fan out and search this room first.”
We set about our task, Crosshair investigating a nearby cubicle whilst Mustang hung about the door, seemingly scanning the floor. I decided to rummage through a dented filing cabinet, pulling the drawers out with my magic and emptying them of the decayed documents inside. I looked back to the door for a moment as we started our search, only to find Mustang fiddling at it. It looked like he had something in his hoof and was jiggling it in the lock.
With a click and a triumphant cry, it opened. Holding up the key in his hoof for our disbelieving inspection, he smiled encouragingly, the strange gentle aura of light once again creeping up around him. “I... remembered I had found this key on the way up.” He said, his satisfaction nearly manifesting in physical form and beaming me in the eye. “I thought I might try it out.”
He tossed the key over Crosshair’s head, the glittering key vanishing behind one of the cubicles. “Come friends, we have a terminal to heroically hack and extract data from.” I trotted after the green pony, Crosshair pausing and glancing back over the rows of cubicles.
“Coming Crosshair?” I asked, he looked lost in thought. “Hellooooo. Equestria to Crosshair, do you come in Crosshair?” The zebra stallion’s eyes focused on me, before glancing over his shoulder.
“You go ahead Elder. I want to check the desks in the other cubicles.” I shrugged, giving Crosshair a mock salute as I quickly followed Mustang. The terminal room was illuminated by the red processor units, taking up the centre of the room. We were a floor above them on a little walkway that went around the towering processors. Mustang was over by a solitary terminal, a focused expression on his face as his magic engulfed the keyboard, trying to hack the terminal.
“Elder, I am ashamed to say this devious terminal is beyond my ability to master. Perhaps you will have better luck?” He stepped back from the machine, looking at me expectantly. I'm actually pretty good with terminals, you learn a thing or two whilst erasing or copying data from holotags or dealing with pesky pre-war viruses and malware.
I cracked my hooves for show as I stepped in front of the terminal. I tapped my hooves lightly on the keys, being careful due to the weight and width of my armored hooves. The screen changed several times as I went through menus until getting to what is commonly referred to as the ‘hacking menu’. Two columns filled the screen with rows of gibberish, words scattered in between. I tapped the keyboard tentatively and selected the first word.
“Radioactive” I muttered, I waited as the screen processed my entry. No luck there, still who expected success on the first go, I tried again, this time selecting Retroactive. No luck, but I was at least eliminating some of the words... out of the thousands in the dictionary, yeah I was getting nowhere. “Perhaps you should try that one Inkwell?” Mustang suggested, pointing at Interactive. I supposed it was worth a shot, I mean it was only one out of seven other words, what were the chances that it was the right one.
Access Granted…Success!
The screen finally cleared and entered a menu, just as Crosshair entered. The zebra sniper glanced at the both of us before walking over. “Did I miss anything?” He asked, looking around the room, probably for something to look through.
“Not much Crosshair, we figured out the password and we've just got into the system.” Crosshair nodded, taking a position at my side so he could view the screen. I went through the first few layers of menus, idly searching for places of interest. I paused when I reached the joint company option.
“Joint company options? As in pre-war joint operations? We should investigate. This may be what we have been looking for.” Mustang commented. Selecting the option, a short list of companies came up.
“Stable-Tec?” I said, my voice barely whisper. “Stable-Tec!” I repeated, practically squeeing, earning me some funny looks. You have to understand, this company was one of those major corporations that had their hooves in all kinds of technology development. I selected the Stable-Tec option and watched the screen flicker and fill.
“It’s a map of... Wintertrot? Yes, see there are the public access tunnels.” Crosshair said, pointing as he leaned over my shoulder. “And look there’s the T.I.T building we’re in.” I ignored Crosshair for the moment, my eyes being drawn to a series of red markers scattered around Wintertrot. Each of the red spots had a single letter or a series of them, giving them some form of designation.
“One to thirteen,” Mustang mumbled. ”a series of locations marked one to thirteen, under the stable-tec option.” Mustang’s voice began to rise in excitement, I felt a smile creep onto my own face as I began to realise what he meant.
“THERE COULD BE THIRTEEN STABLES IN WINTERTROT!” “There could be thirteen stables in Wintertrot.” “There are thirteen death traps in Wintertrot.”
We shouted in unison, Mustang and myself pausing as we replayed the last sentence in our heads. “Thirteen death traps.” Crosshair repeated, stamping a hoof for emphasis. Mustang quirked his head in confusion.
“Death traps? I thought they performed well enough, most of Stable-Tec’s fallout bunkers functioned correctly. Isn’t that so Elder Inkwell?” It was technically true, a large number of Stables succeeded and incubated the ponies inside who would emerge and repopulate the wasteland. But then you had those stables that conducted bizarre social or environmental experiments, some of which released crazed stable dwellers or abominations out into the wasteland.
Regardless of the risks, I wanted to see these stables, they were stables built by another company or at least in cooperation with another company, how bad could these stables be?
“I’m confident these stables will be one hundred percent safe.” I declared, receiving mixed reactions from the two, Mustang looking excited at the prospect of stable exploration whilst Crosshair threw his forelegs up and walking out of the room.
“Doomed” Crosshair declared as he left the room.
“I’m sure it’ll be fi-” I was cut off as Crosshair popped his head back into the room.
“DOOOOOOOMED!”
“Celestia damn it all Crosshair, give it a rest.” I looked at the screen realising we had one other problem. “And somepony find me something to draw on.” I really needed a mapping module or a PipBuck for maps like this.
We rested that night, Mustang taking the first watch, much to Crosshair’s silent chagrin. I could tell he was suspicious of Mustang and... well, I was too. You don’t just run into strange, heavily armed stallions, he had some kind of agenda I was sure. Suspicions were pushed aside as I awoke feeling, not exactly refreshed, more like I was rested from a quick nap. The scent of cooking food awoke me, Mustang was standing by a small travel stove he had set up on the terminal panel. Fat crackled and sizzled in the frying pan,
“Ah Inkwell, good to see you’re up.” Mustang said whilst flipping the frying pan’s contents. “Breakfast will be served shortly Elder, perhaps you could get the plates for me? They’re in my saddlebag.” I nodded, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before I groggily walked over to Mustang’s saddlebag. The first saddlebag was bulging with belts of spare ammunition for Hailstorm, neatly packed with a surprising amount of care.
I went to the other saddlebag and found the plates inside a clear plastic bag, I was about to levitate them out when my eyes drifted over to the rest of the saddlebag. Most of it was various knick knacks that Crosshair had plundered to sell later, but what caught my eye were two suitcases, one rather large and blocky like a brick and the other was thin like a business pony's briefcase. I found myself reaching a tentative, steel-clad hoof towards the blocky container. as soon as my hoof came into contact with it, my eardrums started ringing with Mustang’s voice.
“DON’T!”
His booming voice echoed through the corridors, likely alerting every monster, raider and would-be bandit within a ten block radius. I turned slowly, still recovering from the shock to find a rather panicky Mustang, levitating a hot frying pan.
“Sorry Elder... That uh box is very, personal, yes personal to me.” He grinned sheepishly, eyes darting to the frying pan repeatedly in what I hoped was him just checking the food wasn't burnt.
“I’m the one at fault Paladin Mustang, Elder’s shouldn’t go uh... performing, unauthorised searches.” Smooth. “Where did you learn the Canterlot Voice Spell?” Before I could get a response, we faintly heard Crosshair galloping down the hallways, I decided to try and act like nothing happened. I levitated three plates out of the plastic bags, Mustang smiled, dishing out three portions as Crosshair peeked into the room, guns ready.
“Did I miss anything?” He asked, giving myself and Mustang accusing looks. “I could’ve sworn you were trying to attract Snow Pirates with all that racket.” I felt my interest piqued and was about to ask about these pirates when I smelled the food. Glorious pre-war pancakes, their golden brown deliciousness demanded my attention, I tuned out Mustang and Crosshair and ate the best breakfast I’d had in years.
We left Trotsworth Independent Technologies as soon as we finished eating, we were all a little tense upon leaving, Crosshair scouting ahead from time to time, or Mustang scanning the frost coated windows and dark alleyways. Not much happened until we came upon a crude metal sign post, a recent addition to the landscape. Compared to everything else, with overly large rivets stapling the sign to a wall. There was an open street beside it; Mustang had wandered over to it as I brushed away the ice and snow.
Once clear I could make out what the sign said, the words being composed of old metallic letters. Snowridge. “Snowridge? You know anything about this place Crosshair?”
“Ah Snowridge, yes. It’s a small trading outpost where ponies lighten their loads, before moving on to bigger settlements, like Steelwall.” Crosshair explained, his eyes darting to the windows of the buildings around us.
I realized Mustang had vanished yet again, only this time he hadn't vanished around some corner. Following his hoofprints, we found him staring at an old grey wall that looked like three different graffiti artists disagreed with one another and tried to write over each others messages with limited success.
FUCK LU- was written above the first two messages, cutting off abruptly as somepony, probably the second artist arrived.
‘Celestia defends, Luna protects’. The second message proclaimed, carved into the stone wall in long jagged lines as if trying to obliterate the previous message.
FUCK TEH SENTINELL! The third clearly below average artist had written, probably sure in the knowledge that he wouldn't actually meet this Sentinel.
“Something wrong Mustang?” I asked, noting the strange smile he had on his muzzle.
“Hah! No, no Elder, nothing’s wrong. Just feeling a little nostalgic.” Okay, so my star paladin was an advocate of graffiti art? “I ran across an identical carving in Manehattan once, though not nearly as old as this one.” Well that was a small relief, at least I didn't have to worry about Mustang stopping to admire each wall.
“Can we go now? I feel too exposed, standing out in the cold like this.” I nodded at our striped sniper, letting Crosshair lead the way as I walked alongside Mustang. The snow crunched beneath my armoured hooves, the sound seeming to echo out into the streets around us. Each step made me feel like I was ringing a Luna damned dinner bell. My helmet’s E.F.S wasn't reporting much, besides several yellow blips that were flying around each other at a manic pace.
Crosshair remained vigilant, scanning the frost coated windows for any sign of ambush. My helmet’s E.F.S could pick up practically any threat, but I had a sneaking suspicion that Crosshair would likely be able to pick out any potential threats the helmet's systems missed. Crosshair lead us through a series of side streets and alleyways, pausing once we realised that somepony had blocked the route forward.
Somebody had overturned several large carriages to bar off access to Snowridge. Likely bandits or maybe some gang or tribe that had once run a toll booth of some sort. Before us was an old library that traders and travellers had likely travelled through after being fleeced of some of their goods.
“Spread out Rangers, find us a way through.” I ordered, the little pony inside me clapped his hoofs together as Mustang and Crosshair began looking around. I, of course, participated. It would set a bad example, the worst kinds of leaders were the ones who always let everyone else do all the work. At least that’s what my Dad always used to say, hard to decide if he’d be proud or angry with me, probably a bit of both.
Looking around, some serious effort had been made to turn this place into a deliberate killing ground. The old auto-carriages, chariots and skywagons that littered the landscape had been pushed together tightly. Chunks of concrete and lumps of ice had been used to fill in the gaps someone might use to escape. The area was dotted with signs of old battles. Broken guns too damaged to be of any use lay discarded, some even in pieces. Some heavy firepower had been brought to bear at some point, judging from some of the large holes and blown out husks of some of the auto-carriages.
A tattered rag flew from a jutting pole, some symbol or another was embossed on the damp fabric. Curious, I pulled the rag down with my magic and wrung it out, before unfolding it. The rag had several bullet holes and time and the weather had not been kind, but I was able to make out an image. It looked like a pony skull that was being pierced by a sword.
“What’ve you found Elder?” Mustang asked, about two inches from my face, totally not making me jump... Okay maybe a little. He wrapped the tattered flag in his own mint green aura to scrutinize it, tilting his head slightly.
“It’s some kind of flag Star Paladin, I don’t suppose you recognize the symbol?” Mustang shrugged, shaking his head, before he elaborated.
“Can’t say I do Elder, mayhap it’s some old Raider war banner? I've known them to form into cohesive forces with their own symbols on occasion.” Crosshair returned, giving the tattered flag a quick glance, before looking at me.
“Elder, there seems to be no way through. It’s clear this old route isn't used for a reason. I’d hoped to avoid potential ambushes by using the old trade route.” So that explained the lack of ponies and raiders in the area, I knew it was too quiet. “It seems we’ll have to backtrack to get to and use the main road. The library door is frozen shut.” Before I could gripe about having to walk back through the dead streets, Mustang spoke first.
“Knight Crosshair, do you recognize this curious flag the Elder found?” Crosshair paused, his mouth forming a thin line as he gave us the mother of all poker faces.
“That flag... it belongs to the Snow Pirates.” My zebra friends voice was utterly flat, his eyes narrowed as he glared at the flag, possibly hoping to burn through the flag if he glared at it hard enough. I looked over to Mustang, finding him to be staring back at me with equal confusion.
“Snow Pirates. What exactly are they? Like some gang or tribe?” Crosshair tittered, shaking his head slowly.
“Oh Elder, since when do raiders or gangs take the time to build blockades this good?” Crosshair pointed around us, the construction was above what I’d expect from gangs or raiders back south. “No, no, no. Snow Pirates are a lot worse than some gang. They've got big guns and they aren't afraid to take on any job, it wouldn't be in our best interests to draw their attention.” I really needed to get something to make log entries on, I had a whole lot of stuff I needed to remember about Wintertrot. Snow Pirates now on my mental list of things that will want to kill me.
“Anyway...” I stated, before an awkward silence could rear its ugly head. “this dreary talk is hardly productive. Show me that door Knight Cross, I’ll have us inside in moments.” Crosshair raised one brow, before turning and trotting over to the library. The building, like just about everything else, was coated in a layer of ice, the door handles buried under several inches of it.
“As you can see Elder, I can’t exactly pick it and our Star Paladin doesn’t have a key for this lock.” I saw Crosshair’s eyes flicker behind me, probably at Mustang. I didn’t have time to address my clearly jealous and clingy first knight.
“Key Crosshair?” I powered on my magi-drill, plunging the hoof mounted disemboweler into the solid ice and watching as it melted in a very satisfying manner. The drill gnawed through the brass handles and lock, slivers of wood pinging harmlessly off my armor, whilst Crosshair retreated a few steps from the shower of splinters.
The door finally gave in, the ice seemed to be the only thing holding it shut as the double doors slammed flat in front of me.
“I don’t need no key,” I said with a smirk over my shoulder. ”I’ll make my own door.”
Mustang was laughing, clapping his hooves before trotting over to me. “BRAVO, Elder! Bravo. No mere door should impede our journey,” He patted me on the back, the impact made my power armor reinforced legs buckle a little. “No ice or snow either. Come Knight Crosshair, I’ll lead us through the library.” Crosshair muttered something, but I was too busy getting my wind back to hear him properly. That, and a lot of my attention was also going to not looking like Mustang had punched me in the gut.
Old paper crinkled and flapped as the wind was let inside. Old rotted books lay in piles, the pages seemingly glued together, the weight of the paper turning them into damp mounds of paper. I silently lamented the all too familiar sight of vast swathes of knowledge lost forever, and instead paid attention to several blips that had shown up and then vanished on my helmet’s HUD.
I brought a hoof up and dinged my helmet, the spell jolted back into working order. The damnable cold was interfering with the suit’s systems. I was about to take off my helmet and see if i could find see the extent of the damage when something sharp scraped my horn. The thing most ponies don’t tell you about unicorn horns is that they’re particularly sensitive to pain. It’s not just a bit of bone I channel my magic through.
“Ah Cocknoodles, what was that?” I asked, my EFS failing to pick up any dangers. My question was soon answered by the frenzied fluttering of bloatsprites. A dozen of the flying devils had been hiding up in the rafters, waiting for prey presumably. The ugly pests buzzed around us, firing their spines at us.
Crosshair already moved to distance himself from the bugs, his eyes narrowed as he overturned an old desk and ducked behind it. Mustang immediately leapt into the fray, clapping his hooves together and squashing one of the insects like a water balloon.
“Foolish insects, you strike at Star Paladin Mustang, and the Rangers of Wintertrot! Prepare to PERISH!” Mustang called out, trying to swat more of the pests out of the air. I drew out my sawed-off, the weapon was loaded with pellets that would disintegrate these pests in an instant. I aimed for a cluster of three bloatsprites, the shotgun report roaring, roaring far too loudly.
*BOOM!*
Well, the good news was I killed one of the bloatsprites. The bad news was I blew open some kind of nest. One of the damp mounds of book and paper had been struck, unleashing a flurry of torn pages, and a swarm of vile bugs. Bloatsprites piled up around us as Crosshair picked them off, one by one with his zebra rifle, the insects spread the fire to one another in a rather delightful fashion.
Mustang had grown annoyed as his skin was punctured again and again by dozens and dozens of tiny barbs. I rolled to the right, closer to Crosshair as he unleashed havoc. Bloatsprites popped and burst in mid flight, far more efficiently than Crosshair or I could hope to achieve. Grey and blue ichor, shredded puffy flesh and thin, filmy wings rained down all around us. Any remaining bloatsprites had flown away into the safety of the bookshelves or scurried into their nests.
“Well,” I started. “that was unexpected. How are you both holding up, still fit for battle after that scuffle?” I asked, glancing at Mustang worriedly as he drank a healing potion with several spines still embedded in his flesh.
“I’m fine Elder, they were just Frostsprites after all.” Ah Frostsprites, another lovely addition to the rapidly expanding list of things I hate in Wintertrot. “Though I don’t recall giving any medicine to our Star Paladin.” He gave Mustang an annoyed look, the beefy stallion shrugged his shoulders, smiling widely.
“Fear not First Knight, that was one of my own potions. I brought a generous number of them with me if you’re low on medicine.” Crosshair snorted in annoyance but said no more. I noticed the frostsprite spines piled around Mustang and levitated one over for a closer look. The spine was thin and blue with a pointed tip, it appeared to be coated in ice. I snapped the thin spine, revealing that it was actually a tiny icicle.
“I think it’s best we move on Elder, Snowridge shouldn’t be much farther now.”
I nodded an affirmative, letting Crosshair lead the way once more.
The final trek to Snowridge took about an hour. We didn’t encounter anything that could kill us, but we did see a cluster of shambling ghouls pressed against a frozen door, trying in vain to get at us. Snowridge was exactly what I had been expecting, a decently defended stop where traders could sell some of their goods.
I approached the gate guards, trying to imitate how I’d seen other Steel Rangers approach settlements. Head upright, stomp hooves purposefully and above all, look like you are in charge. Not exactly an easy task when you’re walking next to a green unicorn built like a brick wall. I did my best to loom as I stomped purposefully over to the guard on the right.
“I require access to this trading post.” The guard nearly wet his barding watching three well armed stallions approaching the gate to address him. I noticed his partner pushing a box hastily beneath a nearby tarp, the faint jingling of bottle caps rattling inside.
I was immediately suspicious on the rattling bottle caps. It’s not like guards just hoof out free money to visitors. Most likely they were taxing random visitors, most likely just the traders or smaller groups travelling together.
“Not a problem s-sir, have a nice s-stay.” The gate guard blurted, his eyes flicking back to his partner and the box of money. My inner greedy pony began rubbing his metaphorical hooves together. I could tell I was going to fit right in with this town.
“Thank you, citizen. You have a nice day now.” It never hurt to be polite, and the expression on the pony’s face was worth it alone. I strutted into the settlement, the guards already muttering to one another in tones of bewilderment.
Once inside, we took a moment to observe our surroundings. Three high walls, either made from old auto-waggons and chariots or slabs of concrete that had been dragged into a vaguely rectangular shape. The walls connected to a grocery store which seemed to act as a motel, judging from the wagons and other transportation parked outside.
Just outside the grocery, a small tightly packed market comprised of wooden or scrap metal stalls, wagons and tents offered us a place to shop. Not that I intended to buy much. We were here to lighten our saddlebags, and pick up the essentials.
“Elder Inkwell, I need to acquire fresh ammunition. I have spent about two thirds of my reserves in the last four days.” Our Star paladin explained, showing me several belts of spent minigun rounds. Why he was holding onto them was a bit of a mystery.
“I too need more. This rifle of mine is a glutton for ammunition.” If Mustang and Crosshair were going through ammo this quickly, I’d need to keep an eye out for some alternate firearms for the both of them.
“Very well, Mustang, Crosshair. Stick together, I’m counting on both of you to pick up food, medicine, ammo and anything else we need.” Mustang and Crosshair shared an odd look with one another, clearly unhappy with being stuck together. They’d need to get used to one another if they were travelling with me.
“And where will you be Inkwell? Going to see a doctor I hope? You’re still recovering after all.” Crosshair locked his eyes with mine, the fierce orange irises brooked no argument. I’d go to the doctor, not because I was afraid of him, but I could get myself a Med-X whilst I was there.
“Of course Knight Crosshair, what a silly question. Of course I’m going for a checkup.” Crosshair gave me a suspicious look before nodding, turning and leaving with Mustang who offered a quick wave/salute.
I watched them both wander off, waiting to see if Mustang or Crosshair would doubleback. When neither of them did, I let off a sigh of relief and began trotting over to the first medicinal vendor I could see. I navigated through a few stalls selling miscellaneous junk, pausing here and there to offload some of the valuable scrap we had picked up on our travels. I saw the familiar Ministry of Peace logo over a doctor’s tent and trotted up to it, seeing a table before me with a veritable array of goods.
“See somethin’ you like partner?” A very rough and somewhat exhausted voice asked. I looked up from the table of goods, pulling my eyes from the med-x vials, only to recoil and draw my sawed-off. Before me stood a ghoul, not just any ghoul, one of the ones I’d encountered in the tunnels. His coat was ice blue, the skin beneath it, a sickly blue colour that looked like someone had dyed his skin.
His body was covered in a large brown winter coat that was in surprisingly good condition and a brown fedora sat on his head, his horn poking through a hole in the hat. His empty eye sockets glowed with a ghostly white light, giving him a particularly unnerving look. As if the glowing eyes weren’t bad enough, the skin at the tip of his muzzle was gone, exposing his teeth and nostrils. The ghoul took a drag of a cigarette hanging almost comically on the left side of his face and seemed nonplussed by the sawed-off I was waving in front of him.
“Is there something on my face smoothcoat?” The ghoul asked, chuckling to himself as he moved the shotgun aside with his own magic. “It’s alright boys, he’s obviously just a tourist.” Several weapons clicked as they were put into safety, I turned slowly, noting that fifteen security ponies had guns trained on me. The security ponies seemed to disappear back into the background, waiting for trouble to strike up again.
“Wait, who are you calling a tourist?” I asked.
“You smoothskin, you clearly haven’t seen a wintertrot ghoul, or at least not a smart one. Besides that, you’re clearly from somewhere else, your stance, the accent. Clever ponies like me pick up on that kinda stuff.” Okay, this guy was starting to creep me out.
“But enough small talk, if these lightbulbs I call eyes don’t deceive me, I’d wager you’re one of them Steel Rangers.” I felt myself tense up slightly, it’s not like we rangers have a good reputation as a whole. I kept my magical grip on my shotgun, just in case.
“Maybe.. what’s it to you?” I asked.
“Ah, well, it’s not what you can do for me, it’s what I can do for you,” Classic sales pitch, I steeled myself for a long spiel of offers. “I just happen to know the location of a stable nearby.” I sighed in relief, chuckling much to the confusion of my ghoulish acquaintance.
“You’re out of luck friend, I already have the location of thirteen stables.” I paused, letting him think he had nothing I wanted. “I do need some Med-X though, but I’m not exactly desperate for it.” I could see the gears click in his head as he began working out a price, I beat him to the punchline.
“Thirty caps a syringe and no more.” I stated, stamping a hoof for emphasis. The ghoul nodded, hoofing over three syringes of sweet relief. Which reminded me, I was supposed to go see a local doc about my healing injuries.
“You wouldn’t happen to be a doctor?” I asked the ghoul, he tittered shaking his head as he counted my caps.
“Me? A doctor? You want to go see Slicer, he runs the clinic.” Slicer? Sounded like some mad butcher, or worse, a raider name. Still if he was the doc, then I had little choice but to deal with him. I trotted away, in search of a medical check up and maybe some parts for my trusty sawed-off.
When I first saw Slicer, he was not what I would call a doctor. Even by the standards of the wasteland, he struggled to look even remotely like a physician. His red scrubs had probably been white at some point, and the bandolier of obviously used medical equipment he had slung over him was not encouraging at all. Falling back to my first thought of him, he was more a raider than I had feared.
I had to resist the temptation to shoot him on the spot, only the assurances of the various townsponies had stopped me. That, and the laid back attitude of the doc easily diffused any initial tension I had. Plus, Mustang’s sudden hoof on my shoulder shot any thoughts of gun violence right out the window.
“Mustang, what are you doing here? I thought you were buying ammo. Lots and lots of ammo.”
“I was going to buy ammo Elder, but then I found a scrap dealer.” What.
“What?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? I make Junk rounds.” Mustang levitated one of the rounds in front of me. My inner tech-pony cringed at the sight of it. Didn’t he know junk rounds were bad for guns? I’d save my complaints until he started maintaining it. I waited patiently as Slicer dealt with his patient.
“~Thank you my dear physician, I was feeling in need of medicine.~”
The rhyming, that horrible rhyming... it could be only one pony. Er, I mean one zebra.
When Slicer levitated a geiger counter over to me, his eyes nearly bugged out as it clicked faster and faster the higher it got to my horn.
“Take it away, take it away!” I yelled in alarm. Mustang started inching away from me, and suddenly Crosshair was looking into the room from the other side of the doorway. Pausing for a moment, I reconsidered what had I just said. “I MEAN, FIX IT! FIX IT! FIX IT!”
“I’m trying to, just calm down. I’m surprised you’re not glowing.” Slicer galloped over to a fridge in the corner, and pulled out a bottle, a pack of radaway and a large magnet. He levitated a drinking glass and a tube of wonderglue down from a shelf. After wondergluing the magnet to the base of the glass, he then dumped the radaway and the contents of the bottle into it. Rushing back over he applied some more wonderglue to the rim of the mystery potion and then slammed it over my horn, attaching it onto the base of my skull.
“Yeowch~!” I screeched, my voice cracking a little. “What the hell?!”
Lifting up the geiger counter, Slicer let out a relieved sigh as the clicking came back, but at a more subdued rate. “Well, you’re lucky that it hasn’t fallen off yet, and hopefully this will prevent that.”
Gingerly touching head around the base of the glass, I couldn’t help but wince. “What is all this?”
“DON’T TOUCH THAT!” Slicer yelled, smacking my hoof away. “That glass is the only thing between everypony else and the radiation.”
“What about me?”
“Oh, well it’s going straight into you.”
“WHAT!”
“Don’t worry, the magnet’s attracting it away from you. I was just kidding.”
“What..? Magnets don’t work like that!”
“Oh really? Who’s the doctor here?”
“But... But SCIENCE!” I waved my hooves around, trying to emphasize my statement.
“I think the geiger counter knows better.” He stated, patting me on the head, giving me the worlds biggest knowing smile.
‘Doctor’ Slicer had me lay down on a medical gurney and then placed a breathing mask, connected to a cannister. As he turned it on, a strange smell entered my nostrils, making me lighthead. As my head rested on the bedding against my will, I looked over at my companions. Crosshair was having a whispered conversation with the doctor, both of them casting me odd looks. Clearly Crosshair was concerned over my health and just... comparing notes, yeah, that’s it... He had the most medical experience of our little group, after all. Of course Crosshair was just checking his suspicions.
“Fret not Elder, everything will be taken care of in your leave of absence.” Mustang’s honest sounding words failed to assure me, but moments later I passed out, making it a moot point.
Upon waking, I happily noted that my breathing was much smoother after Slicer had opened me up and finished what Crosshair started. There wasn’t a disconnected feeling I had in my ribs, just a very numb ache, and I’ll admit that it caused me no end of relief.
My surgery took a surprisingly long time. So long in fact that Mustang and Crosshair would end up finishing the tasks they had originally been sent out to do. Mustang had a large burlap sack tied onto his side, away from Hailstorm’s barrels. The extra weight didn’t seem to faze him as he stood mostly still, humming a strange tune during my examination.
We paid the good doctor for the surgery and the check up, which amounted to just testing every part of my body to make sure it moved correctly. Well okay, it did involve a bunch of other poking and prodding devices, their purposes alien to me. And then there was this weird suction device and I don’t even know what THAT was about but it felt freaking weird. After all, I specialise in weapons and terminals. Medical technology is sorely lacking in my repertoire of knowledge.
We bunked down in an old apartment flat, just outside of Snowridge. It was rented to us by a surprisingly kindly innkeeper. The interior of our apartment was very spartan in its decoration. No furniture besides an old dining table and a writing desk in what most ponies would consider their living rooms. The kitchen was likewise sparsely furnished, with only a fridge, a stove and a counter. Mustang, upon noticing the lack of furniture, dumped the heavy mailbag onto the writing desk, whilst Crosshair went exploring upstairs.
“Elder, come see what I found in the market. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Mustang said, whilst undoing the straps on the heavy bag. I stood next to mustang as he levitated the bag and carefully poured its contents onto the table. A jumbled assortment of weapon parts lay before us. Why Mustang would buy this stuff was beyond me. We were supposed to be getting rid of extra weight, not adding more.
“I know what you’re thinking Elder,” he said, but I highly doubted that. “Yes that is a Western Equestrian Armaments M1918 automatic rifle.” That piqued my interest, the name was one of the companies mentioned back at Trotsworth’s Headquarters. I glanced at the table, unsure of what part went where. Mustang clearly detecting that I wanted to see the rifle, began putting it together with his telekinesis.
“Hey, are those external parts winterized?” I asked, halting Mustang’s reassembly and yanking the gun over to me, examining it up close. I took time to examine the barrel, ammo clip and firing mechanism, the materials seemed to be camouflaged similar to the limited models of winterized power armor I’d seen in old posters.
“Show him his other surprise, Star Paladin.” Crosshair said, walking into the room.
“Ah yes of course.” Mustang muttered, digging through the mostly empty mailbag, before pulling out a brown object. The smell of fresh leather hit my nostrils and made me flinch, as it reminded me... reminded me of... never mind, it’s not important. Besides the smell was delightful, the leather was fashioned into a holster, made to be worn around the neck and over a pony’s chest.
“It’s for that shotgun of yours Elder, can’t keep leaving it in those steel saddlebags. Never know when you’ll need to engage enemies up close and personal.” Crosshair elaborated, I breathed in the scent of freshly made leather, grinning like a goof as I tried it on. The holster sat perfectly. Maybe a little too perfectly... did Crosshair take my chest size when he was patching me up?
Before more morose thoughts could plague my head, Mustang had finished assembling the automatic rifle. The gun was a bit of a beast, yet it looked like a colt’s toy in Mustang’s hooves. He double checked the gun, making sure it sounded right and everything clicked perfectly, before levitating it over to me.
“This gun is for you, brave Elder. Knight Crosshair told me of your valiant battle against two young snowhounds.” Those were young Snowhounds? I’d really hate running into an adult. “He told me of how you bravely risked your life to stun our zebra friend’s attacker, even after losing one of your primary weapons.” And here I was beginning to forget about losing my grenade machinegun. I had barely had a chance to use it.
Mustang helped secure the Automatic rifle into my battle-saddle. It felt good and weighty against my side, I placed my scratched up sawed-off into the leather holster, now feeling like a proper Steel Ranger, or at least a Steel Ranger with a good taste in lower-tier guns.
“You should rest Elder, I think we will reach the death t- I mean stable tomorrow.” Crosshair said, making his way over to one of the mats. Mustang was folding up the large mailbag, making it small enough to fit inside one of his saddlebags. He’d cleared off the writing desk and was setting up his battle-saddle, levitating a screwdriver and hammer as he clearly intended to do some minor repairs or fine tuning. I didn’t feel particularly tired, so I opted to assist Mustang with his battle-saddle.
Before going to bed, I removed the glass off my horn with some solvent that Slicer had prescribed, only to find the inner contents had frozen solid. Getting rid of that was humiliating, and let’s just leave it at that.
It felt strange... walking alongside Mustang and Crosshair I mean. Each day they seemed to surprise me more and more, Mustang revealing himself to be very inventive when it came to battle-saddles. Last night he’d taken the time to show me how he could angle and aim his heavy weapon so effectively, without the use of an interface like the built-in systems of my power armor, or the dexterity of Crosshair.
We left Snowridge early in the morning, I’d wanted to get an early start so we could reach this mystery stable before midday. Then I would probably have to spend a couple of hours figuring out how to hack the door controls, but that was future Inkwell’s problem. The snow started to fall after about two hours, growing steadily heavier, seeing what was ahead became quite a problem, often forcing us to stop and seek out street signs to determine where we were. The heavy snowfall made me thankful for my helmet, my two companions had trouble with snowflakes flying into their eyes.
As we travelled, the sounds of gunfire could be heard, just barely over the howling winds. Crosshair did his best to navigate us away from the fighting, no sense in getting tangled up in a firefight. Wintertrot had other plans though, the stable we were looking for, kept bringing us closer and closer to the gunshots. Eventually the din of the howling snow was eclipsed by the sounds of battle.
We all flinched as an explosion all too similar to my missile launcher detonated on the upper floor of a building down the street from us. There was no ideal cover nearby, or at least nothing Mustang and myself could crouch behind effectively. Crosshair on the other hand, was easily able to hide behind a pile of rubble, staying low as he readied his rifle.
A group of about a dozen ponies emerged from a side street, wearing dark blue winter gear and goggles. One of the blue coated ponies was hefting a missile launcher in a telekinetic field. These ponies showed up as amber on my helmet’s EFS, I readied my weapons anyway, I wasn’t taking chances with a group of well armed ponies.
They spotted us, but didn’t fire on us. Instead the group of ponies took up defensive positions, and simply waited. I glanced over at Mustang and Crosshair, both of them looked ready to wipe these ponies out. They were both looking at me and the other ponies, the triggers on their weapons cocked and ready to fire.
“Wait here. I-I’m going to go talk to them.” I said, with complete confidence, not stuttering at all. I was already moving, before either of them could think of stopping me. As I stepped closer to the other ponies, I could feel the tension increasing. I couldn’t get a read on how hostile they were though, since my helmet’s EFS spell crapped out on me. Probably from overexposure to the cold. I stopped advancing about ten feet from them,
“That’s close enough tincan.” A red coated earth pony addressed me in a commanding tone. “Any closer and we’ll see how well that fancy armor of yours protects an exposed horn.” I bristled mentally, but kept my cool, keeping the anger out of my voice.
“I believe introductions are in order.” I stated, whilst doing my best to look directly at the stallion who’d addressed me. “I am Inkwell, current Elder of the Wintertrot Steel Rangers.” The reaction I got, was not what I expected. The red pony seemed unperturbed whilst his underlings seemed confused. The leader made a slashing motion with his hoof, silencing the group.
“Elder eh? You don’t sound too old.”
“I’m not.” I replied flatly, leaning forward, making myself seem as intimidating as possible. “You still haven’t told me your name.” I added, my helmet’s voice amplifier whilst not making me more charismatic, does have the benefit of making me sound more intimidating (Badass).
“Tch, lookout boys, we’ve got a badass here.” The other ponies all laughed with him. These ponies were apparently immune to my infectious charm. “Alright tinca-”
“Inkwell” I growled, starting to lose my patience.
“Fine, Inkwell then. I want you and your two buddies over there, out of here.” I was, genuinely surprised. Most ponies would’ve asked for caps or our guns.
“But boss, they’re running around with one of them striped fuckers! We can’t just let them...” The complaining stallion was cut-off as the red stallion smacked him across the face.
“DO I LOOK BLIND TO YOU!” I flinched as the stallion was punched again, his nostrils making a horrid crunching sound. “I CAN FUCKING SEE THE ZEBRA!” He bellowed, landing three more blows to the face, before he punched the stallion in the stomach, leaving him to curl up on the ground.
“Uh...” Was all I could think to say. I mean that escalated quickly. One minute I’m annoyed at name calling, the next I’m witnessing a stallion pummel one of his own in front of me.
“Sorry you had to see that, the newbies don’t always remember they speak only when spoken to.” He apologised insincerely, as he wiped the blood off his boot covered hooves. I glanced back at Crosshair and Mustang. Crosshair had a neutral expression. Mustang looked particularly uncomfortable with the display.
“I’m afraid we won’t be leaving,” I said decisively. The red stallion glared at me. “we need to get through this area and we can’t wait.” I clarified, the leader buck chuckled to himself as if he’d not been expecting my audacity. I was getting fed up with this stallion and switched my rifle from safe to ready to fire. The group of ponies went tense, the click of the safety silencing the stifled chuckling. If it weren't for the howling wind, I think you could have heard a pin drop.
“Alright Inkwell, you want through here? Fine, but you’ll get torn apart if you try to go through these streets alone.” He smiled, I didn’t like that smile. “So lets work together, you three stick close to us and maybe you’ll get through here alive.” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Of course if you try to go alone, the other Snow Pirates won’t take kindly to your presence, probably riddle that zebra with bullets.”
“I’ll...discuss your proposal, with my Rangers.” I said, turning to trot back over to them. I approached my Rangers, Crosshair looking frustrated with me and Mustang looking relieved to see me.
“Elder Inkwell, that was bold. It’s not often somepony would approach a heavily armed mob of ponies, even with good armor.” Mustang said, giving me a unsure grin, probably blown by away my awesomeness.
“What did they say Elder?” Crosshair’s voice was flat, his face equally neutral as he stared down the scope of his rifle.
“They want us to tag along with them. At least until we reach the other side of the battlefield.” Crosshair lifted his eyes from the Snow Pirates, shaking his head slowly.
“This is a bad idea, Elder Inkwell.” Crosshair stated firmly.
“That reminds me, those pirates have some kind of grudge against you.”
“We have a bad history with one another Elder. That’s all.” Crosshair said with contempt.
“I don’t like them either Elder; some of the stories I heard in Snowridge. Well, they make raiders seem tame by comparison. Didn’t you see those other ponies? They didn’t even flinch when their leader started beating one of them to a pulp.” Mustang exposited, the amount of discipline or fear those ponies had drilled into them was unsettling.
“Joining forces with them is a bad idea at best, suicide at worst.” Crosshair lifted his hoof and made a chopping motion. “The best thing to do is kill them all right now and be done with it.” I got the distinct impression that Crosshair really didn’t like these ponies.
“I agree with you both.” Both of my Rangers looked relieved. “Getting involved with these Snow Pirates is a bad idea, but we don’t have much of a choice.” Crosshair glowered at me, whilst Mustang looked uncomfortable. “We have to work with them, if we don’t it could take us days to go around and avoid fighting them and the Super Stallions.” Crosshair made a frustrated groan, before cursing in what I could only assume was the zebra native tongue.
“Elder... I’ll support your decision.” Mustang spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But... If these snow pirates show even a hint of betraying us, we can’t hesitate.”
“As soon as we’re through this warzone, we’ll deal with them.” I promised. “Besides, what’s the worse that could happen...?”
Travelling with the Snow Pirates was awkward to say the least. Half of them looked like they wanted to shoot Crosshair now that he was up close, and the other half looked like they just wanted to get away from him. I felt a little blind, walking without my helmet’s EFS. I’d gotten used to seeing all the little warning blips it provided when working at optimal capacity.
We could hear gunfire from as little as two streets away, the red stallion who hadn’t saw fit to share his name, was leading the way. I decided to mentally name him Red, until I could figure out his name. Red spoke into a small radio on occasion, probably with other Snow Pirates in the area.
We’d been wearily trudging together for roughly an hour when we were attacked. Three super stallion’s came exploding through a nearby wall, screaming and bellowing, and slammed into the group of snow pirates. Behind them two abominations lumbered forward on mismatched limbs, coming straight for me.
With a manly squeak, I fumbled to pull out my shotgun. Abandoning that, I instead aimed the holster at the nearest mutant and telekinetically pulled the shotgun’s trigger. The buckshot ripped into the face of the freak, blowing off a few waving tentacles. With a gurgling bellow it collapsed forwards.
Letting out a relieved exhalation of breath, I turned towards Crosshair. “See? Nothing to worry abou-” Suddenly my vision cut out. “What?” I was suddenly lifted up by my head and flailed around like a foals rattle. “CROSSHAIR, HELP ME! IT’S TOUCHING MY FACE!”
I heard screams and shouts as the Snow Pirates fought the super stallions and the roaring of Mustang’s beast Hailstorm in the background. The monstrosity slammed me into the ground like a walnut, futilely trying to crack open my power armor. It didn’t hurt but it did wind me and leave me feeling dazed.
As the mutant lifted me up, it let go, the tendrils going limp as I fell. I hit the ground with a heavy thud. Struggling to take in a breath, I glanced up to see the abomination flailing around on fire.
Crosshair walked over to me, grinning like a cheshire cat. “Get up Elder, there’s more fighting to be done.”
Crosshair was right, I’d already been humiliated. It was time to make up for it. I pulled out my shotgun, contemplating a heroic pose and deciding on a one-liner. Unfortunately I was lifted from behind by my tail, and swung like a baton, sending Crosshair flying through the air and into Mustang. And then came the slamming into the ground again, at which point I lost my telekinetic hold of my shotgun.
I was left with very few options, my missile launcher and rifle were both pointing away from the abomination. As I impacted against the ground, my legs played out and I saw my magi-drill. OF COURSE! Activating the drill, I curled up, bringing the drill close to my tail and slicing through the abdominal appendages gripping it.
The now tongueless beast reeled back and let out a guttural howl of pain. Taking the advantage, I launched myself forward onto it. I stunned it by slamming down on its head with both hooves, I grabbed it around the chest with one hoof and plunged my magi-drill into its chest. I let out an unarticulated scream that matched its death cries. When it finally stopped moving I stood up, and looked around. Everypony was still fighting the surviving two super stallions.
“AWWWW COME ON!” I moaned “DID EVERYPONY MISS THAT?!”
“KIND OF BUSY ELDER!” Mustang replied, not even turning around. “PERHAPS YOU COULD LEND A HOOF?!” Mustang was firing Hailstorm in bursts, taking care not to kill the Snow Pirates, which was no easy task as the mutant ponies were fighting them in melee. One of the super stallions was using his hooves and firing two battle-saddle mounted rifles whenever the Snow pirates got too far from his hooves. The other surviving mutant pony was slamming down a ferocious super-sledge with abandon, laughing the entire time.
Red and three Snow Pirates were trying to kill the rifle wielding super stallion. I ran up alongside Crosshair and Mustang, taking aim with my rifle and picking my target. I chose the super-sledge wielder, because he was a much easier target to aim at. The rifle practically growled as I fired it, its report being more subdued than I would imagine.
I missed the super stallion... unfortunately I hit one of the snow pirates trying to fight him. He howled out in pain as his hoof was shot, causing him to stagger backwards. The super stallion took great glee in pummeling him with the super-sledge, laughing maniacally even as the other snow pirates took the opportunity to barrage him with gunfire.
Okay, that could have gone better, but I could fix this! A well placed missile could probably take out that maniacal menace. I activated the missile launcher’s HUD systems, and aimed the super mutant. My helmet’s HUD flickered, but I didn’t need to be all that accurate with this weapon anyways. I aimed roughly between the stallion’s legs and his body, knowing I’d at least cripple him. I bit down on the trigger, and the missile roared away on a pillar of fire.
At the last possible moment, during the super stallions wild swinging. The tip of his super sledge grazed the missile, sending it careening off course. It’s new trajectory flew over the the heads of the remaining snow pirates, only to explode on a collapsed inconspicuous building behind them, peppering them with concrete and shrapnel. Suddenly a secondary explosion went off behind them, sending everypony stumbling away, followed incredibly by a third, and much larger explosion.
To my well tuned ears, I could pick out the sound of grenades, missiles and at least three types of ammunition going off in large quantities. All I could do was cry at the waste of so much unused ammunition. A heavy door flew out of the building, flipping in a low arc to embed itself through the super stallion and into the ground.
“RAAAAAH! Stupid ponies, must KILL!” The stallion gurgled. Even sheared in half it was still trying to fight.
I found myself galloping towards the mutant, gaining momentum as I ran. My forward advance culminated into a solid right hook, cracking the mutant pony’s jaw. “YOU SONOVABITCH!” I cried, manly tears running down my face. I began slamming my hooves into the mutants face, letting my unbridled rage seep out. “ALL THAT... ALL THAT AMMUNITION! THAT GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS AMMUNITION! GONE! BECAUSE OF YOU!” The super stallion seemed to not feel my punches, as it tried to ineffectively hit me. Regardless I continued to land blow after blow on its tough skull.
“Elder are you okay?” Mustang asked, placing a hoof on my shoulder. The now limp mutant lay cooling on the ground, its blood already freezing it to the ground.
I looked up at the burning ammo dump and sniffled. “No...” I warbled, before latching onto Mustang and crying like a foal. Crosshair and the leftover Snow Pirates watched me with mixed expressions of concerned confusion. None of them understood my pain.
“If it’s any consolation, that was one of our smaller ammo caches.” A snow pirate said, trying to be helpful. If anything I cried harder; they had more ammunition than ME! I cried on Mustang’s shoulder for several minutes. By the time I was done, the dead super stallion was buried under an inch of snow, and everyone was looking distinctly unsettled. Probably because of the snow piling on them.
“Better?” Mustang asked, smiling uncertainly. I gave him a quick nod.
“Right, well if you’re done crying, we need to get moving. We’re all soaking up radiation, and there’s no point sticking around since you blew up all our ammo.” I think Red might have been just a tiny bit upset with me. “Penknife, Goldtooth. I want both of you to scout ahead, I want no more surprises for this last leg of the trip. Be ready to fire on my orders.” Two stallions with rifles nodded, before galloping off into the snow.
“Is it wise to split up like that?” Mustang asked, seemingly asking everypony.
“You were here just ten minutes ago right? You saw what those super stallions and their scuttler pets can do.” Ah, so now I had a name for the abominations I killed. “The last thing we need is to wander into more groups of waiting mutants or worse.” I dreaded to think of something worse than a super stallion squad. Snowhounds maybe?
“Elder, it’s time you took a radaway.” Crosshair said, holding out a bag of the orange liquid. “Be quick Elder, the liquid inside can start to freeze if left out too long.” I grimaced as I levitated the pouch over to me, first splashing some of it on my exposed horn and then lifting my helmet to drink the rest of the foul medicine.
The sounds of distant fighting grew fainter as we trotted alongside the few remaining Snow Pirates. What had once been a formidable attack force was reduced to five ponies, two of whom were scouting ahead. I’d learned from Crosshair that the one super stallion to escape the battle had ponynapped two injured Snow Pirates. Mustang to my surprise, proposed following after them. but Red was adamant about pressing on, stating that they were probably dead by now anyway. I gave Mustang a questioning glance, to which he replied with a firm shake, and a look that suggested to the contrary. How he knew what I was thinking without seeing my face, I didn’t know, but I found it unsettling he could read me so easily.
Red occasionally spoke into his radio, speaking in some kind of code that seemed to involve a lot of metaphors. I kept my eyes out for any sort of identifiable landmarks, in case we had to pass through here again. We did pass an old gun shop, the sign faded and marred with rust. It looked like it had been looted some time ago, but I made a mental note to check it out if we passed through again.
Over time my eyes began to itch as the radaway coating my horn slowly seeped down, and in irritation I kept forgetting my helmet was on as I brought my hoof up to scratch my face. The repeated clanging was causing everyone to stare.
“You okay Elder?” Crosshair asked.
“Oh yeah, yeah. I’m totally fine. Just doing some field repairs.” Everyone gave me strange looks. “Oh yeah, you just gotta whack it here and there to get the... HUD back up...” Cocknoodles, nopony was buying it.
In the end Red just shrugged it off, pointing ahead. “We’re nearly there Tinca- I mean Inkwell.” Red said, warily eyeing a large clearing up ahead, possibly an old autowagon parking lot. “We can part ways up ahead, and then I’ll have the delightful task of explaining how I lost most of squad with wastelander reinforcements.” I winced a little, feeling a little bad for the red unicorn. Sure he was a colossal cocknoodle, but considering what some contingents of the Steel Rangers did to somepony who messes up this badly, I’d really hate to see what Snow Pirates did to their screw-ups.
We walked a little farther until we came to a small junction. One street leading off around and behind the parking lot.
“I think that’s far enough.” Crosshair said calmly, stopping in his tracks. He aimed his rifle at the Snow Pirates who reacted as expected, stepping away from him so they could aim their weapons. Mustang responded by standing next to Crosshair, revving up his minigun menacingly.
“What the fuck, Tincan! Call off your zebra psycho.” Red growled, shifting his aim between Mustang and Crosshair.
“Don’t listen to him Elder. This has all been a setup from the start.” Crosshair explained, cocking the rifle when Red moved to turn on his radio.
“Check your Helmet’s EFS Elder, it should let you see the two ponies waiting in ambush.” Oh... right. I hadn’t told anyone about my HUD being a malfunctioning piece of crap. I went with the tried and true method of field repair and dinged the side of my helmet. The HUD flickered back to life, showing critical damage failure messages and my EFS detecting two flickering blips ahead of us.
“I can see them Cros-” was all I got to say before everything went white. A explosive blinded me, my recently healed ribs were saved only by my power armor. Mustang’s minigun roared, the sound of ponies dying filled my ears as my vision came back to me. Red was gone, his two subordinates were dead, reduced to flaming pulp by Mustang and Crosshair. My helmet’s HUD showed a fleeing red blip approaching two blips moving on the upper floors of a hardware store. Hey my HUD and EFS were working again, the explosion must’ve given the helmet a jolt.
“Crosshair, they’ve got two snipers on the upper floors. Can you take them out?” I asked, moving down the street that would take us around the open parking lot.
“I can’t Elder, the scope on my rifle got shattered.” Well that sucked, so much for sniping the Snow Pirates.
“Might I suggest we move underground?” Mustang proposed, as he cleared some snow from a partially obscured ponyhole cover. No way his snipers could get us down there.
“Mustang you genius, passing underground will be perfect.” We would be able to find the stable we were looking for as well. Stable’s built beneath cities usually connected to the underground tunnels or sewer systems at some point. Normally they kinda overlapped or interconnected when they had to. I tried lifting the ponyhole cover, but found much to my horror that it had been frozen in place.
“Stand back Elder, let me aid you!” Mustang declared with gusto, shunting me aside. I could do it, I’m not weak, honestly I’m not. The cover was frozen by like several inches of ice. Mustang took a moment to properly position his hoof, before hammering it down with a resounding crack. Mustang then dug his hoof under the lid and flipped it off.
“I’M NOT WEAK!” I yelled without a trace of petulance.
They looked at me in concern. “I’m alright, see?” I dinged my helmet in a totally convincing manner. “Right as rain, right as rain.” If anything they were giving me even more worried looks. Buck, they must think I’m going senile already.
To escape their judging gazes, I leapt down into the tunnel, with a brief “I got this.” I landed surprisingly well. My power armor taking enough of the shock from the fall to prevent me from hurting myself. I lifted my hoof to turn on my helmet’s floodlight, but before I could a large weight slammed me to the ground.
“AHHHH!GETITOFF!GETITOFF!” I screamed explosively, the air being forced from my lungs. I flailed my hooves in a desperate attempt to dislodge my attacker.
“Elder calm yourself, it’s only little old me.” Mustang replied amiably.
“Hnnngh,” I croaked, trying to breathe under his considerable bulk. Mustang took the hint and moved his large form off of me. I gasped loudly, taking in a choking breath and prepared to turn on my helmet’s floodlight again, when I was suddenly slammed into the ground again.
“AHH! MUSTANG! GETITOFF! GETITOFF!”
“Inkwell calm yourself, it’s only Crosshair.”
“How did you know it was me?” Crosshair asked, still sitting on my back.
“Uh... I heard you falling.” Mustang answered.
Before Crosshair could respond, I tossed him off my back and regained my footing. Once again my hoof was stopped short from turning on my floodlight, but this time it was of my own violation.
“Did anyone hear a hissing sound?” I asked.
“That’s not good.” Crosshair and Mustang said in unison. I turned on the helmet’s light and felt my heart flutter with joy as I saw a sign proudly proclaiming T.I.T. Stable number VII.
“Huh? That went better than expected.” My floodlight’s beam lowered, revealing a horde of ghouls. They turned as one, raising their heads and let out the most bloodcurdling roar I’d ever heard.
Ah, cocknoodles...
Footnote:
Inkwell: Level 3
Perk Added: Attention Addict - Because of the way you act, you attract a lot of attention. Sometimes this is a good thing, sometimes not so much...
Crosshair: Level 3
Perk Added: Vigilant Watcher - If something is off or feels suspicious, you’ll probably notice it. +2 Perception whenever an ambush is about to take place.
Mustang: Level 2
Perk Added: More Dakka - Get the lead out! With either magical or mechanical means, you manage to fire ballistic weapons 50% faster than they are meant to. (Magical Energy Weapons are not affected by this perk.)
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 5: Show me the Bullet “It’s not a liquid! It’s a great many pieces of solid metal that form a hard, floor like surface!”
The feral ghouls charged, cold blue eyes glowing in the dark. Not good, not good, not good. I backed up, turning to run. Mustang’s heavy steps were right next to me.
“Elder, wait-” Crosshair started to say, but I was already running. Mustang continued running alongside me for about five yards, before stopping. Wait, why was he stopping? WHY WAS HE STOPPING? A series of utterly bizarre squishing thumps made me stop. Turning back I saw the feral ghoul horde charging... and running into a solid wall. Specifically, a solid wall of clear ice. How had I missed that? I trotted back over, watching the ghouls comically pile on top of each other as they kept charging and falling atop one another.
“Huh... I guess Celestia and Luna must be watching over us.” I said. Looking up, I realised that at some point, the road had cracked open, letting, presumably, running water down from above. How it had frozen in a solid, near perfectly flat wall was anypony’s guess.
“Heheh, I think that one just got it’s tongue frozen to the other side.” Crosshair was barely suppressing a laugh, his face scrunched up into an odd expression as he desperately tried not to smile. Overcoming his giggles, he became a little more serious. “We can proceed to the Stable, Elder. It’s unlikely the Snow Pirates can pursue us; not after your clever destruction of the ladder.” I glanced back at the ladder we’d come down, finding it had been crushed in multiple places by my fall. No wonder Mustang and Crosshair had to jump down.
“Of course, Star Paladin. No time to waste. Crosshair lead the way.” I said, punching a hoof forwards in an appropriately aggressive manner.
Crosshair facehoofed, shaking his head before pointing at my floodlight. “I’m afraid you will have to lead Elder. You’re the only one of us with a functioning light.”
Cocknoodles, he was right. Still, all I had to do was follow the signs, and be ready to fire at the first glimpse of trouble. My armor would most probably withstand anything we encountered, before whatever it was was taken down by my fearless companions.
Steeling my resolve, I started down the dark tunnel.
The hissing of ghouls echoed around us as they crawled and cantered unseen in the dark. The wide beam of my floodlight cut through the dark, illuminating the tunnels and catwalks ahead. Unfortunately, the bright light had a habit of attracting ghouls, and they rarely came from in front of us. Often they would burst out of maintenance and supply rooms, scattered along the tunnels. Occasionally the ghouls also popped out of overturned rail cars.
“I think the worst is past us. The hissing has gotten quiet-ERK!” Somepony had leapt onto my back in obvious fear. “Crosshair, get off me!” I yelled in indignation. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Well, okay, maybe there was, but still; didn’t want him freaking out over just some noises.
“Elder. I am not on your back. I’m here, on your left.” A sudden feeling of dread filled me as the pony on my back wrapped their hooves around my neck.
“M-Mustang, you’re awfully light.” The moment of awkward silence that greeted me was not comforting.
“Elder, I’m not on your back either...” He said after a bit from my right.
The gurgling growl alerted me to the ghoul on my back. The gnawing on my horn was also a good indicator.
“GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF!” I screamed, dancing around as I tried to buck the ghoul off. The ghoul could have been a champion rodeo rider with how tightly it was clinging to me. I was spinning and kicking, my hooves connecting with something soft. Unfortunately, it turned out to be Crosshair. The zebra howled in pain, holding his nose with one hoof before dousing it in a healing potion.
“YOU IDIOT! HOLD STILL!” Crosshair shouted. A light strobed out as Crosshair fired his trademark zebra rifle.
The ghoul took burst of shots to the torso and burst into flames, but didn’t have the decency to die and let go. Now there was a flaming ghoul chewing on my horn and dripping hot flesh all over it! I bolted down the tunnel, looking for something to extinguish the flame engulfing my back and horn.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I screamed, my flaming horn burning with the heat of a thousand suns.
“ELDER! STOP, DROP, AND ROLL!” Mustang yelled at me. Genius. Freaking genius. Still running, I buckled onto my side and rolled on my back, finally dislodging the ghoul. I jumped up, spinning around and searching for my fiery foe. Instead, I was met with a lack of burning enemy. Taking a few turns, I tried to reacquire my target. My helmet’s floodlight fell on a fleshy lump that vaguely resembled a pony. A trail of bodily fluids oozing back way over to me. Panting in my relief, I felt something wet and chunky on my horn, slowly dribbling down towards my eyes.
I pulled off my helmet and immediately searched my saddlebags, digging for something to wipe my face. In this case, it was the bedsheet I ‘borrowed’ from the inn at Snowridge. What! Their service was terrible, and the room was already bare of creature comforts. Mustang and Crosshair caught up to me, just in time to watch me try to clean black ghoul ichor from my face.
“Crosshair. Mustang. I need to feel clean again.” My body shuddered involuntarily. They both gave me mixed looks of humor and what I chose to believe was sympathy. Mustang extracted a bar of soap and a bottle of irradiated water. Exactly why anypony would buy irradiated water was beyond me. I mean it was everywhere already.
“We’ll be over here Elder. Please be quick. You can scrub down your armor with Sparkle Cleaner later.” Wait, my armor? Glancing over my shoulder, I was mortified to see my back absolutely coated in black sludge. It was on my horn and my MANE! I dumped the water over my head and vigorously rubbed in the soap.
My helmet lay deactivated whilst I cleaned myself in the red glow of... red glow of... Where was that coming from? I turned to see Crosshair and Mustang using a flare to illuminate the immediate area.
“Where did you get a flare? And more importantly, why have we been relying solely on my helmet for light?”
“We picked up a few in Snowridge,” Crosshair explained. “and as for your second question. We thought you wanted to save caps?” Clever ponies. I knew there was a reason I kept them around. I rinsed off my mane as best I could, vowing to have a shower, neigh a very long shower, as soon as possible.
After my quick wash, I put my thoroughly filthy helmet back on and we continued following the signs to the stable. We’d been walking for some time when we finally saw it. The tunnel lighting was fully operational around the next corner, illuminating the stable door. I rushed ahead, skidding to a halt as I finally witnessed it’s full and awesome glory.
The massive gear shaped door of Stable VII lay before us, surprisingly devoid of the usual skeletons you saw of ponies who had failed to get into the stable on time. The door had the T.I.T. company logo stamped on the top of the door, a wrench crossed with a bolt of lightning. The abbreviated name and the company’s full name were underneath the logo and the stable designation just below that.
I approached at a full gallop, hugging the stable door. ‘All mine’ my inner greedy pony cried. Right before I got electrocuted. Thankfully my power armor took most of the damage, but it still hurt. Kind of like getting burned, only the effect didn’t linger.
“Bleargh!” I managed, as I fell away from the electrical discharge. My recently repaired HUD flashed an alarming red before I heard a fizzing pop, and then it went dark.
“Careful, Elder. Stable doors have been known to be rigged with traps to prevent someone from forcing entry.” Crosshair added belatedly, whilst unsuccessfully stifling his giggling. I’d see if he was still laughing after I made him test fire another shotgun shell. I’m certain I could make a plasma shotgun shell. Mmmmm... Plasma...
I stepped back from the door and removed my now-defunct helmet so I could inspect the area around the door for any more hidden surprises. I should’ve known this could happen, some of the privately owned stables the Steel Rangers had run into in the past had had some nasty protection methods. One stable I recalled hearing about, had tesla coils waiting to electrocute anypony trying to hack the door open.
“Elder,” Mustang called, as I trotted up to the control panel. “Why did we come here?” What? Oh sweet Celestia how could I have forgotten. I facehoofed. I’d been leading my two Rangers here and they didn’t even know why?
“Sorry Mustang, Crosshair. I completely forgot.” I tried to access the door controls but found them locked, naturally. “We’re here because a Stable would make an ideal base. It’s easily defended, has plenty of room to store technology and equipment. Most importantly though, they usually have apple orchards or some other means of providing fresh food.” A stable food supply in the wasteland is something to treasure, we could probably trade the excess food we’d likely have for weapons, ammo etc.
“But what about the Stable Dwellers, Elder? What if there’s innocent ponies in there?” Mustang asked.
“Well Mustang, generally we usually induct some of them as initiates and move the rest of them somewhere else.” I started going through the password options, trying to find the right word to open the door. “Although, usually, they’ve either moved out by now, or all died for some reason or another.”
A minute later, and I was fairly certain I had deduced the proper code. But... no. No the password couldn’t be... it was. The password was ‘STABLE’. Who thought that was a good idea? That’s like having ‘password’ as your password, you won’t fool anyone.
With a release of ancient, pressurised air, the stable door groaned. Dirt, ice, and accumulated dust fell away as the door screeched inward, before rolling to the left in one smooth motion. Cautiously we entered the stable, wary for signs of danger.
The stable walls were all clean grey. If not for the thin layer of dust they would probably be shining. The air had a stale hint to it, like a room that badly needed aired out. The entrance area had a small room off to one side, where the door controls were protected by a thick plate door and what I suspected was bullet proof glass. Directly ahead of us lay another door. As we approached it, the thin metal door automatically opened for us, accompanied by a smooth whooshing sound.
We descended a flight of stairs that lead us into the first level, following some helpful signs that eventually directed us to the atrium. The atrium was a wide open space, with a balcony above us and a round porthole window the Overmare probably used as their office.
“Alright, Rangers. Listen up.” I said in my best commanding tone, suppressing an excited squee at finally being able to say something like that. “We need to get to the Overmare’s office. From there we can find out what this particular stable was doing, and if we need to start shooting everything we see.” I looked up as the lights flickered ominously. “After that we can work on the power,” I said as the lights settled. I trotted over to another of the conveniently placed maps of the stable floor plan, next to a billboard containing two hundred year old memo’s and once important announcements. The floor plan showed we had to go down two more levels to reach an elevator to the Overstallion’s office, that was surprising. Usually stables had Overmares leading them. The Overstallion’s office wasn’t what I was fully focused on, what caught my eye was the lowest level of the stable floor plan, an entire floor that was just one room.
I let Crosshair take the lead. My helmet was busted anyway and the well lit stable made navigation easy. We quickly descended down two levels; not taking the time to properly explore the rooms on each level.
A few minutes in and we were on the second floor. Through one of the doors the flickering lights glinted off of a metallic object. Unable to suppress my curiosity any longer, I wandered into a particularly dusty room and levitated the object in front of me. As my telekinesis rotated the boxy item, feather soft dust fell away from it, revealing it to be... sweet Luna’s exploding ovaries, it was an energy pistol! A very dusty one, but my first ever magical energy weapon salvage. Funny how an energy pistol would just be sitting in a mound of dust, though.
I glanced at the pile. Noticing some kind of metallic clip, I levitated it up, hoping it would be an energy cell. Instead it was a name tag. ‘Lucky Shot’ was printed in neat hoofwriting, next to a small photo taking on a decidedly sepia tone of a smiling brown earth pony buck.
I glanced at the dust pile. Then the magical energy weapon. Looking once more back to the dust pile, realisation finally dawned on me. “Oh....Oooooooooh. I...uh. Ahem. Crosshair, Mustang! Try not to step in anypony’s elses remains.” I said over my shoulder. Crosshair took that inopportune moment to lift his snout out of another ash pile, a film of white around his nostrils. “WHAT DID I JUST SAY!”
Before I could rebuke Crosshair, a bright red beam of light cut through the air, glancing across my shoulder plate.
“STOP... RIGHT THERE.... CRIMINAL.... SCUM...” The broken, tinny voice of a robot barked. A ponyesque robot with a domed faceplate was firing at us, I recognized it as a protectopony robot. The lasers fired from its head, burning and warping my metal armor but otherwise not harming me. I readied my missile launcher, angling myself just right. My trajectory was a little off, the missile exited the barrel, missing the robot which had decided to charge at us, the ensuing explosion knocking it over anyway.
The robot was unable to right itself, and began to instead fire wildly. “YOU’VE BROKEN... the LAW... PAY a fi-KZZZT.” Judging by it’s actions, it was most likely part of T.I.T’s security. The missiles splash seemed to have damaged its combat inhibitor. Crosshair quickly put three rounds into its head from close range, finally disabling it.
“That’s a new one.” I said aloud in the sudden silence. “Usually it’s ‘die zebra scum’, or something about security. This is the first time I ever heard a sentry bot stating I was a lawbreaker.” Maybe the T.I.T security was from a different provider...?
“ZEBRA INFILTRATORS DETECTED. ALL UNITS! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!” Another robot boomed, it’s speakers crackling as it rounded the corner.
“Oh, well there you go.” I said, pointing a hoof at the newest addition to our room. “Must be a one time thing.” This one was armed with dual miniguns, which revved up ominously. I prepared to fire my missile launcher again, when one of the rounds pierced my leg guard. Flailing my hoof about in pain, I realised it was using armor penetrating rounds. Getting a grip, I leapt back behind an ash covered bed as a streak of bullets disintegrated and exploded the furniture around me. Clouds of feather and wool exploded as the miniguns chewed through our thin cover. Glancing back, I noticed Crosshair was hiding behind me for extra cover.
The robot ceased firing, as a true hailstorm of bullets suddenly bit into it, severing one of its arms in a shower of sparks and lubricant. The sentry bot turned to its new attacker, preparing to fire, but never getting the chance as its head was disintegrated by a focused stream of bullets. The head exploded, flying into the room and landing by our hooves.
“Inkwell! Crosshair!” Mustang nearly yelled, relief seeping onto his features. “I got cut off by a cluster of irksome sprite-bots and a brain-bot. This stable is rife with robot guardians.” I stood back up, helping Crosshair to his hooves.
“The robots should be controlled in the Overstallion’s office. The faster we get there, the quicker we can shut down these machines.” I cringed as I prepared to lead the way. “But can we uh, get this bullet out of my leg first?” Crosshair rolled his eyes, reaching into his saddlebag and retrieving a scalpel with his mouth and a healing potion, smiling as I stepped out of the leg guard.
Med-x is cold, especially when it enters your system via needles. My suit injected me with a dose of med-x just after Crosshair had pulled the bullet from my leg. The damn suit was acting weird, it didn’t inject me with med-x when it was supposed to... or maybe it wouldn’t inject me until I reached a certain pain threshold. Regardless I made a mental note to look into it, because while the scalpel freaking hurt, it hadn’t been nearly as bad as when the bullet went in.
The journey to the Overstallion’s office wasn’t as difficult as I’d first envisioned. We encountered six more of the protectopony sentry bots, and two of those creepy brain-bots with their gentle feminine voices before finally getting to the corridor housing the lift. Fortunately, each encounter had been a separate instance, and relatively easily dealt with.
We entered the lift with some trepidation, though I was positive only the robots were being controlled, not the doors and other utilities. I mean why let us run around if the security systems could lock us in a room or corridor.
The lift door opened to reveal the Overstallions office in pitch black darkness. With a dull thrumming, the lights turned on, revealing several roof-mounted turrets, and four sentry bots armed with missile launchers and gatling weapons, which were powering on. Crosshair’s jaw hit the floor, and I squeaked in fear. Reaching across the entire way, Mustang hit the ‘close door’ button gently, sealing the entire nightmare back on the other side of a solid door.
“I think...” Mustang said, after some time. “We should find an alternate solution.” His voice was jovial, despite his initial pause. The lift door opened once more, this time depositing us back on the third level of the stable. I glanced around, looking for another map. There would only be two other places where we could shut down the robots. Logically, it should be either Stable Security, or the Engineering Department.
With a sudden gusto, patriotic music blared as a sprite-bot rounded the corner. At first, we almost ignored it, due to it’s seemingly docile activity. I started walking past it when the sprite-bot froze.
“Present I.D. or be terminated.” It stated clearly.
I laughed at the floating radio, preparing to swat it out of the air, when I remembered I did have I.D. I floated out Lucky Shot’s I.D. allowing the small robot to scan the card.
“Error. Lucky Shot was terminated nine nine nine years ago. Intruder alert!” The robot began firing and was soon joined by two floating robots I recognized as Mister Gutsies. I immediately prioritized them, swatting the sprite-bot aside and firing my saddle mounted rifle at them. I shattered two of the eye-stalks on one gutsy with a lucky spray, and made a lot of dents on both of them before they began to really pound on me with built in flamers and plasma casters.
Crosshair yelped as magical plasma singed his tail. The magic projectiles burned into my armor, eating metal and gouging chunks, but the thick armor held. The same couldn’t be said for my rifle though as the green plasma struck, and then destabilized my rifle, turning it into a puddle of green goop.
“I JUST GOT THAT!” I roared, unholstering my shotgun and firing. I’d packed in one of the explosive shells, which exploded violently against the top of the gutsy that had destroyed my rifle. Blinking away the after images, I saw the round had bent the eye-stalks at odd angles, one nearly falling completely off. The blinded gutsy attacked wildly, its saw arm grinding through the plasma caster of its companion. Mustang unleashed the full force of Hailstorm, the minigun’s excessive fire finally bringing the robots down in a pile of twisted scrap.
“INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!” The sprite-bot continued to blare as it lay immobile on the ground.
“Shut up, already!” I growled, punching my magi-drill into its small body and tunneling right through it. The robot sputtered and sparked, before falling silent.
“Elder Inkwell, I’m sorry you-hurk!” I cut Mustang off as I grabbed him in a hug.
“That’s the third gun I’ve lost, and I barely got to use it.” I complained, totally not sobbing as I hugged him for an appropriate amount of time. Three minutes if a cracked clock hanging from one wall could be trusted.
“If it makes you feel better, this stable will likely have a gun you can replace it with, in the armory.” Crosshair said, pointing at a map he had pulled off a wall. I looked at the map, stifling a few more sniffles. Crosshair’s hoof was pointing at the security office on the fourth level, the armory was adjacent to the security offices.
“We’re going to have to go further...Deeper into the rabbit hole so to speak.” I said, as I looked over the map.
“What’s a rabbit?” Crosshair asked.
“No idea. Just the way the saying goes.” I responded. “Let’s move on. We’ve been ambushed on this level more than enough times.” Crosshair rolled up the map as we began making our way to the stairwell.
We descended onto the fourth level, guns ready as we exited onto a floor where most of the stable dwellers must have died. Broken skeletons and bone fragments littered the floor along with the dried blood stains on the walls and more piles of ash from disintegrated ponies. I couldn’t resist the urge to occasionally pick up and inspect a weapon.
Most of the guns were in surprisingly good condition, though many had been damaged by what looked like treads, and some of the lenses in energy weapons were misaligned. Mustang stuffed several of the weapons into his saddle bags whilst I crammed the rest into my own.
We took care to avoid stepping on the skeletons, weird as it may sound. It felt wrong to stand on the skeletons or scuff and spread the ash piles. I’d have Crosshair and Mustang clear the remains away, once we shut down the robots.
We were making a beeline for the Stable security, when the floor rumbled ominously. The metal walls shuddered ever so slightly as something heavy stalked through the corridors. The rumbling of powerful hydraulics and crunching bones echoing loudly from the level below.
“INTRUDERS DETECTED! PLEASE VACATE THE PREMISES!” The booming, electronic voice of some kind of robot boomed as it stomped below us, navigating its way up from the lower levels.
“Scatter! Mustang in that room on the left. Elder, get into that room on the right. Wait until it passes and then fire at it.” Crosshair hissed at us, before running into a room a little ways behind us. Mustang had already moved into position, leaving me standing out in the open. I quickly remedied that, and walked into the little room. It was some kind of maintenance cubby, complete with several sets of tools hanging on neat little pegs or packed into glass cabinets. I definitely had to come back here. I needed proper equipment to properly inspect my weapons and power armor.
My attention was reluctantly diverted back to our current dilemma. A bizarre robot tried to round the corner, though it seemed to be having some severe trouble with the tight corner. It’s round oval body and four cumbersome legs were obviously not designed to navigate the tight corridors.
“THREE INTRUDERS SIGHTED! DISARM YOURSELVES AND LEAVE THE STABLE! YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY!” The robot’s voice box boomed. That was the first thing we’d take out. I cringed at the fact that we’d have to destroy it, but I could always examine the remains afterwards. Maybe in time we could get another up and running. The wall shuddered, knocking down smaller items and sending a tool chest onto the floor as the robot more or less squeezed itself forward, denting and scratching the corridor walls.
It stumbled on its large and cumbersome legs, nearly falling over. Mustang stepped out of cover to begin firing, I likewise copied him. I had loaded two explosive slugs into the shotgun, but they only left two burn marks on the armor plating, not doing any real damage.
“THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA! USE OF DEADLY FORCE WILL NOW BE APPLIED!” The robot opened up, its back panels revealing a long and unfamiliar energy weapon and its two side panels revealed rotary machine guns. We backed up quickly, before breaking into a panicked sprint as the robot began firing its weapons.
Large caliber bullets whizzed by, impacting, and in some cases, penetrating the stable walls. Glass and bone fragments flew through the air as windows and skeletal remains exploded. We rounded a corner, passing Crosshair just in time to watch a large blue, energy projectile smash into the floor and leave a huge burn mark. In the center of the scorch, the glowing metal had shaped into a smallish crater. If it wasn’t so hot, I probably could have used it for cover.
“Any bright ideas Elder? Perhaps retreat?”
“Yeah, let’s make like a tree and get the fuck outta here.”
“Come now, Elder, I’m sure we can-” All of a sudden my eardrums popped painfully. The wall behind us... and across from us had been vaporized in a near deafening explosion.
“Maybe retreat is the best option after all.” Mustang said, all traces of jovial heroism completely evaporating.
We hastily took the nearest turn and made for a door that I hoped was an exit. Mustang had unfortunately dropped all the weapons that he’d collected in his expedient retreat but I couldn’t really hold it against him due to the currently extenuating circumstances. Much.
Just as I was starting to think that maybe Crosshair was right about this Stable being a death trap, we hit the door, finding a set of stairs on the other side. Unfortunately they only led deeper into the stable.
Before we could contemplate an alternate route, the killer robot kindly announced its intent to launch a missile barrage. We fled downstairs just as the first missile was fired, making for the next level down. Just as we reached halfway point the missiles exploded, knocking us off our hooves.
Mustang went down, rolling ahead of me, while Crosshair was slammed upwards to hit the ceiling painfully, before landing on top of me. I had almost kept my balance, but the additional weight of Crosshair caused me to flop forward and start sliding down the stairs like a sled. Above me Crosshair started strangling me as he held onto my throat tightly, screaming ‘doomed’ the entire way. We slammed into the landing, mashing up against the wall in a painful, groaning heap.
“Crosshair. Please. Let go! You’re killing me!” I managed to choke out, Crosshair’s hooves slackened as he collapsed next to me. I took a few rasping breaths, before I braced my hooves and stood up. Mustang was nearby, wrapping some bandages around his left foreleg with practised ease.
“I could use a healing potion, Mustang.” Crosshair groaned, whilst standing up. “Just splash it on my back, it feels like it is just one big bruise right now.” Mustang happily obliged, pouring half the potion on his back and then forcing him to drink the rest.
Taking a look at the stairway entry, I was both relieved and worried that an avalanche of metal had blocked the bot from following us.
I had Crosshair pull out the map we had procured earlier and examined this level’s floor plan. The fifth level housed the reactor and engineering department. The only other way to get back to the upper floors was by using the stairs on the other side of this level or by crawling through the ventilation ducts. I immediately scrapped the latter idea, Mustang would barely fit into the vents, even I’d have to squeeze a bit. This left us with one alternative, reaching engineering and disabling the stable security. There was no way I was going back to the upper floors with that killer robot roaming about.
“Saddle up Rangers, this stable hasn’t beaten us yet.” Mustang perked up, whilst Crosshair was giving me a doubtful look. “We can shut down the robots on this level, plus the giant killer robot is on the floor above us.”
“But what if there are-” Crosshair tried to interrupt me, I cut him off quickly.
“Guys. GUYS!” I said, holding up a placating hoof. “We’ve totally got this.” My enthusiasm was infectious. Well, at least Crosshair wasn’t frowning anymore. I leaned over the map with Mustang and Crosshair, working out the quickest route to engineering.
The fifth level was dark, the majority of the ceilings lights had burst bulbs and occasionally sparked dangerously. This level was surprisingly devoid of robots. I suspected they had all been on the upper floors of the stable. These corridors were warped and more spacious, likely the oversized security robot had ruined the walls in its endless patrols. We passed darkened workshops, containing dust covered machinery and a few specialised rooms. For instance the PipBuck technicians office. I had to fight every kleptomanic, tech hungry impulse in order to pass by it.
“We’ll come back later, we’ll come back later, we’ll come back later...” I muttered the mantra as we walked past, my hooves dragging slightly as I forced myself to move forward. We paused as we came upon a large scorch mark on the floor. The burn mark was fresh, tendrils of smoke rising up and vanishing just as quickly. A beam of artificial light was illuminating the burnt patch of floor from above. I looked up cautiously, seeing a hole seared through the metallic roof to the level above us. The whole corridor vibrated, the corridor going dark as a familiar robot blotted out the light.
“ZEBRA INFILTRATOR REACQUIRED, FIRING PRIMARY WEAPONS!” We backed away from the hole quickly, metal groaned as the robot tried to get into a firing position. “ERROR! ERROR! TARGETING FAILURE! REPOSITIONING!” The Robot began stomping away on the floor above, much to our relief.
The whole corridor groaned ominously, before the roof not so much collapsed as it did split like a rotten muttfruit, letting the huge robot came plummeting through. The robot fell towards us, and Mustang and Crosshair were able to run away quickly enough. I, on the other hoof, was just on their heels, when the body of the robot pinned my hind legs. I was immediately grateful to the Ministry of Technology as the heavy robot pinned my legs under its considerable weight, but thankfully didn’t squash me like a radroach. The robot’s lights flickered and then dimmed, likely from the brunt force of the fall. Finally some good luck.
“Inkwell are you okay?” Mustang asked, coughing and wafting away the dirt and dust.
“Urgh! My freaking legs!” I groaned, trying to pull myself out from under the metal monster. “Crosshair, Mustang. Get this thing off of me!” Immediately Mustang obliged, his green magical aura wrapping around the machine and leaning it off my legs. I squirmed forward on my front legs like my drill instructor taught me and my fellow initiates ages ago. I jumped to my hooves as soon as I was free from the cramped location. “Alrighty-” I started to say before being interrupted.
“REBOOT COMPLETE, INTRUDERS DETECTED!” The massive robot thundered, it’s oval body lunging forward and slamming into my rear. I spun around, seeing the towering robot preparing to fire its ranged weapons. Of course, ranged weapons. I ducked under its firing arc, sliding to a halt, easily within crushing distance of its hydraulic legs.
“Keep it busy Elder! We have a plan!” Crosshair called out somewhere behind me. I was too busy focusing on not dying to ask what. The death machine took an unsteady step forward, two of its legs sparked dangerously. The robot took another stomping step forward, making the walls rumble with the force.
I grabbed onto the leg in a flash of brilliant stupidity. I realised my potentially fatal error as it slammed me into the wall with a resounding thud. Flattened between two relatively solid bits of metal, I couldn’t help but to let go of the giant hoof with a grunt of pain. Of course, this did nothing to help, as my knee guard became tangled in the exposed mechanisms when the leg pulled away. Groaning inarticulately, I was totally unprepared for being stomped on. If I had thought that being mashed into a Stable wall was bad, the floor sucked even more.
Probably the only thing saving me was the obvious extent of the damage to the robot’s actuators. It didn’t seem to be able to force enough pressure on it and completely flatten me. As it lifted its hoof off of me, I stumbled my way to standing up.
“Well, that wasn’t so ba-GULK~!” I started before getting stepped on again.
My armor began groaning from the strain of pressure, and I could hear internal components breaking and dislodging under the surface. My helmet's visor cracked explosively, spider webbing fractures along the entire surface. Suddenly, the HUD flickered back to life and began running a diagnostics and reboot display, completely removing any ability to see anymore.
“Oh, are you freaking kidding me?!” I yelled in frustration. As the pressure let off me again, I immediately started to scramble out of the way again, blinded as I was. I immediately regretted this hasty decision as I ran face first into a wall. Sure, I was wearing a helmet, but come on, It still pinched like crazy. So I have sensitive ear! Who cares! UGH!
Of course, as I reeled from this, the robot took the opportunity to stomp on me me again.
“AAARGH, WOULD YOU JUST STOP~!” I screamed. With a sudden succession of blinks my HUD finished its reboot, just in time for me to look up and see the robot lift its hoof once more, preparing to stomp again.
With a sudden green flash, a lance of magical energy impacted against the metal hoof. The robot turned away from me as Crosshair began firing a barrage of magical plasma with pistol he had probably found in another ash pile. A brief stab of jealousy sparked in me. Of course HE would get plasma.
Crosshair ducked around the corner, but didn’t retreat, continuing to fire at the overkill security bot. He was close enough that it couldn’t fire its more deadly energy weapon, but that didn’t stop the death machine from firing its machineguns.
It didn’t so much aim at Crosshair as it did his general direction. The wall Crosshair had vanished behind was being chewed through by the heavy firepower, already I could see holes poking through but no dead zebras. The robot halted its avalanche of fire, turning to me again, as it positioned its hydraulic hooves and prepared to stomp.
*BZZZZZKT!*
The robot’s leg hovered over me briefly, then moved back as the familiar sound of a minigun filled the air.
“FEAR NOT ELDER! I’LL DEAL WITH THIS ROBOTIC MENACE!” Mustang bellowed over the sound of Hailstorm, which he was firing from on top of the machine. He must have sprinted back upstairs, just so he could drop onto the robot. The now handicapped robot was twisting and turning as a relentless barrage of bullets tore into its casing. One of its machine guns exploded, flying off the robot and into a workshop.
“ALERT! ALERT! THIS UNIT IS UNABLE TO DEFEND ITSELF!” Hah, in your face Equestrian robotics! “SELF DESTRUCT PROTOCOLS INITIATED!” Oh, cocknoodles. “T-MINUS TEN SECONDS!” Mustang leapt off the robot, rolling and landing on his hooves again. I was wrapped in Mustang’s magic as he carried me, sprinting as quickly as he could, which was a good thing, because I’m not sure I could have done much running myself at this point.
“SELF DESTRUCT INITIATED! I DIE, SO THAT EQUESTRIA MAY LIVE FREE!” The explosion that followed sent us all flying through the air. It felt like getting punched by a Super Stallion again, only ten times worse, and across my entire body. I was deeply grateful to the ponies that designed this armor, excluding the lack of horn armor of course. We skittered and bounced to a halt in the center of the hallway, my suit sparking and rent in places.
For a little bit, we all just lay where we were, groaning or cursing gently under our breaths, or, in my case, just breathing. After a while of this, we finally attempted to pick ourselves up. I couldn't, of course. My suit was such a wreck that I couldn't do much more than wiggle about helplessly.
“Well... that could have gone better.” Mustang joked, giving us an amused grin.
From the ground, I sighed. “Mustang, Crosshair. Go back to the PipBuck technician’s office an-” I was cut off mid-sentence.
“Elder, we’re not going back for a bloody PIPBUCK!” Crosshair exploded.
I released a frustrated sigh, before explaining. “I need a Pipbuck Technician Master Key or an auto-axe so I can get out of my armor. I'm locked inside right now. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit stuck. Also, I prefer the Master Key, but if you do find an Auto-Axe, bring that with too. My drill might not be enough to get us into certain places.” It took a couple of minutes to describe what a Master Key looked like, they weren't that common after all. Crosshair left to find it, Mustang standing vigil against any would be robo-attackers.
“Mustang. Is my drill okay? I can’t see it at this angle.” Mustang leaned over and unclasped the drill, its comforting weight lifting from me. He examined it or at least put on a show of examining it, but even from my vantage point I could he hadn't a clue. Fortunately, it was within my sight while he fiddled with it, and I could tell it would still work perfectly. Nearly crying in happiness, I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. “It’ll be okay. Hehehah! Whew~! Everything is looking up already!”
Mustang spent the next few minutes examining my saddlebags which had been dented, but would be easily fixed, and my missile launcher which would need to have some light maintenance done to it. I felt my stomach quiver in fear as Crosshair returned an Auto-axe balanced perfectly on his back.
“Alas Elder, I was unable to find the Master Key, so instead I brought the jaws of life.” Crosshair was smiling, this was not a good sign. “I’d ask you to hold still Elder, but you’re already doing that.” Mustang levitated the auto-axe in his telekinesis, the motor sputtered and whined as it was used for the first time in years.
“What should we cut open first?” Mustang asked, whilst testing the auto-axe on a nearby wall.
“Start with the helmet Star Paladin, I imagine our Elder feels incredibly claustrophobic in there.” Mustang nodded, levitating the axe over to me.
“His horn is in the way,” Mustang pointed out.
“Oh well, just cut that off as well.” Wait, WHAT!
“WHAT!” I screamed. “Mustang, don’t listen to him, MUSTANG!” The blade came closer, the whirring blades inching towards me. “MUSTANG STOP! STOP!”
“Oh wait, I have the Master Key here, how silly of me.” Crosshair stated cheerfully, holding up the piece of arcano-tech in one hoof. “Now where do I insert this Elder?” Waves of mixed emotions fought for superiority as I kept opening and closing my mouth.
“I think you broke him, Knight Crosshair.” Mustang muttered, giving me a nudge.
“It goes in the slot on my flank, where the saddlebags were sitting.” I finally managed to croak out. I walked Mustang and Crosshair through the procedure, instructing them how to reboot my armor. There was silence when the moment of truth arrived, my armor jerking with a brief spasm as power began flowing again. The HUD came online again, notifying me of various critical failures and missing equipment. I pulled off the helmet, shaking my head, before I gingerly stepped out of the power armor.
“I feel so... naked...” I mumbled, quickly searching through Mustang’s saddlebag and pulling on a lumpy robe.
“Elder, didn't we have a discussion about going through my saddle-” I cut off Mustang’s baseless concerns.
“We have no time to rest. We must muster and make for Engineering.” I pulled the map out of my saddlebags and quickly worked out that we weren't too far from our goal. I Left my armor and saddlebags behind, carrying nothing but my shotgun and my drill. Mustang tried to carry it for me, but I was adamant, it was MINE!
I’d forgotten how tiring walking was. Crosshair and Mustang were giving me looks when I started to sweat and slow down. The trip to Engineering was thankfully not a long one. The doors were sealed however.
“Mustang, can you do the honor and make us a new door?”
“Of course Elder, please stand back.” Crosshair hoofed over a pair of goggles, Mustang accepted them and went to work on the door. The doorway didn't stand a chance against Mustang, who strained and grunted as he worked. Sparks and pieces of metal went flying in every direction as the scream of tearing metal filled our eardrums. With a final grunt, the door keeled inwards, cut into two diagonal plates. Mustang poked his head inside, taking a glance around the room, before giving us the all clear.
The first thing I noticed was the smell, like old hard cover books I used to find inside old libraries. The source was a pile of old papers next to the skeleton of a pony. The terminal in front of the pony was password protected. I gently levitated the skeleton out of the chair and went to work. The password was eighteen words long, which meant the number of password choices would be fewer. Mustang and Crosshair were busy rifling through the papers beside the terminal, whilst I tried to guess the right password. It definitely began with an A, all I had to do was work out if it had an n or a u next.
“Elder, listen to this.” Mustang cleared his throat. “‘I’m not a technician, I don’t know what I am supposed to do. This place wasn't built to last in the event of balefire bombings. It isn't a real Stable.
Even if I do manage to unlock everything, turn off the security measures, and deactivate the robots, I’ll still die of starvation. There isn't any food except in the breakroom, and that won’t last more than a week, if I ration it out.
Celestia, everything has gone to shit.
How did this happen? I just shoot guns for a living. I didn't want any of this to happen. The worst thing is that I'm so, so lonely.
It’s gotten quiet now. The gunshots and screaming have stopped. And the ponies didn't win. I can hear the robots walking around outside the door, but I sealed it with my override code. Hopefully they don’t have a higher level of authority than I do.
I don’t think I have it in me to starve. I accidentally kept the range’s testing pistol. It still has a couple of rounds in it I never got to shoot. Here’s hoping it’ll be instantaneous.
Celestia and Luna, have mercy on us all...
FUCK FUCK FUCK! They were confetti rounds. What stupid BITCH thought up these things?!’ After that, it just goes on ranting and raving until it gets unintelligible. Also, I think he ate part of one of the pages.” Mustang concluded.
“Well. That sounds appropriately ominous...” Crosshair said.
I unlocked the terminal as Mustang finished reading. A sense of dread filled me as I glanced down at the skeleton and levitated the pistol lying next to it. I checked the magazine, finding there were seven bullets with pink heads sitting inside. I aimed it out into the corridor, before pulling the trigger.
The pistol jerked in my magic, barking like thunder in the confined space. With what I can only say sounded like a party popper the round hit the wall. Instead of a small caliber bullet dent, a cloud of pastel colored confetti fluttered in the air, landing softly. Frowning, I turned to Crosshair.
“I don’t think he died from that.” I said, before shooting him.
He had just enough time to try reeling back before it hit him, detonating anticlimactically as it had done on the wall. Eyes bugged out, he hyperventilated for a moment and then collapsed to his side in relief.
“That was kind of mean.” Mustang said disapprovingly.
“He joked about cutting my horn off.” I said unrepentantly. Mustang lifted his hooves in the air and made a weighing motion, then shrugged his shoulders. Then he smiled and we both had a little laugh, Crosshair even joining in eventually. We laughed for a lot longer than we should have. I think we all were trying not to think of how the pony had eventually perished.
As we settled down, Crosshair stood up. “If you’re done shooting at me for the day, perhaps you can disable the security now?” He asked, suddenly looking a little dour.
“Oh lighten up Crosshair,” I quickly selected the stable security and disabled it. The lights in the room flickered, before powering on fully. “We've got power, and the robots aren't trying to kill us.” I stood up and dusted myself off a bit. “Now lets go inspect the bottom floor. I really want to know what could take up an entire floor of a stable.”
The entire bottom floor had been a storage room, boxes and piles of bullets were heaped as far as the eye could see. Well, maybe not that far, but it was a really big room. I mean, millions of rounds. Most were still in their cases, but a large horde had spilled from a few shelves, and in my ecstatic joy I had not been able to help myself. I’d jumped in and waded a few steps before taking a dive.
“HOW! HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT!” Crosshair cried in dismay. “This is scientifically impossible! You’re scientifically impossible!”
Coming up for air, I spit a few loose rounds out, like a stream of water. “Where there’s a happiness, there’s a way~!” I called, before going back down for another dunk.
“But...But...” Crosshair stuttered, struggling for words.
“Let him have his fun, Crosshair. He needs it. Especially when he figures out how long it will take to sort just that pile out.”
I suddenly stopped, still submerged in bullets. I hadn't thought of that. Trying to lift myself up, I found I was stuck. “Er... guys... need help.”
Footnote
Inkwell: Level 4
Perk added: Bullet Tester - You find, and use, exotic bullets more efficiently than the average Wastelander. Increased chances to find exotic bullets by 10%, and increased exotic bullet damage by 15%. Careful with the nasty ones!
Crosshair: Level 3
Level progression: 75%
Mustang: Level 3
Perk added: Robot Equalizer - Machines should fear the coming of your hoofsteps. You do an extra 5% damage to higher level robotic enemies and have a 10% higher chance of scoring critical hits, per Combat Level, up to 5 levels. Talk about levelling the playing field!
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 6: Accidents Happen “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
After fishing me out of a sea of bullets, Mustang and Crosshair forced me to rest, whilst they made sure all the robots were no longer hostile. It took them a few hours, giving me time to sort out some of the bullets. However, my chest began to ache over time, gradually getting worse and worse. Eventually it became so bad I had to lay down and curl up to try and somewhat alleviate the pain. I wanted a shot of Med-X, but they were in my saddle bags. Just as I decided getting up was more trouble than staying on the floor, I heard hoofsteps from behind me.
“Inkwell! Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Crosshair asked, leaning into my vision. I absently noticed he still hadn’t cleaned off the ash from his nose.
“I didn’t feel it.” I choked out, gritting my teeth in pain. “Not until now. Didn’t want you guys worrying, anyways... Owie... I think a rib is floating... again...”
“You idiot, what part of pretending not to be hurt made sense?” Crosshair asked, hooves up in the air in frustration. “Mustang get in here, I need you to carry our Elder.” Crosshair reached into his saddlebags and removed a syringe. “Probably best you aren’t awake for this. Pity there’s only a half-dose of Med-X left. It’ll have to do I suppose.” Crosshair stuck the needle into me, plunging me into sweet release.
Then he punched me in the face.
I recoiled from the sudden blow. “OW! Crosshair, what-?”
Crosshair raised his hoof again. “As I said Elder, best you aren’t awake. This one should knock you out.” This time his hoof struck me on the temple and I was out like a light.
I’m floating, the feeling of weightlessness fills me as I swim through the air. I bump into a wall, glancing around I realise I’m in a small room, the room rattling all around me. Furniture floats up around me, the bed, desk even the chair. My eyes lock onto the wardrobe bolted to the wall, realization hits me as I recognize my surroundings. I’m back on the airship, right when it was crashing.
I’m now touching the ceiling, like some spider, I easily walk along its surface and pull myself over, not to the wardrobe, but to the door leading to the hallway beyond. I grasp the door with my hoof, and the heat sears my flesh and fur, blackening it as I pull away. The door itself grows brighter and hotter as it melts before my eyes.
“Still happy I’m dead?” I knew that voice, knew it from before Wintertrot. But no, that pony was dead, I saw them dead and burnt. A pony in full Steel Ranger armor walked into the melted doorway, shining and shimmering from the white hot metal surrounding her. I recognized the mare, even though her mane was gone and her face was extremely burnt. But only because of the obnoxious, non regulation earring she always wore.
“Jack Knife.” I squeaked, slowly floating backwards. Waving my legs to steady myself in freefall, I watched her walk into the room in dumbfounded horror. “I saw you die. On the airship.”
“Isn’t that cute? Think a little old fire can stop me tormenting you?” She cackled, the flesh on her cheeks close to tearing. She licked her lips, her tongue made of what looked like liquid fire.
“Get back, you’re dead. DEAD! I collected your dog tag!” Something flashed in the flickering light, and I looked over to see the little bit of metal on it’s chain, wrapped around my hoof. Jack Knife scowled, stamping over to me and tried to pull it away. But her hooves couldn’t get it off, try as she might, and eventually gave up with a huff.
“You little thief! Stealing from your superiors. Lets see what the Elder has to say about all this.” She flung me over her back, and the glowing metal of her armor seared my chest, eliciting a sharp flair of pain. She stalked through burning corridors of molten metal, unaffected by the white hot flames that licked at her hooves.
She carried me to a roughly cut hole, the searing heat being replaced by an incredible cold. We were outside the airship, snow surrounding us on all sides. Nearly a hundred ponies were out here, all of them horribly mutilated by fire. A pony wearing robes that had partially melted and fused to his flesh turned to look at me.
“You’re dead... You died in the inferno Elder Ratchet.” The burning former Elder grinned horribly, reaching for for my hoof and trying to pull away another dog tag I hadn’t realised I was holding. The grin quickly vanished, replaced with a bony scowl.
“Give it back, Initiate.” He rasped, seemingly struggling to pull away the dog tag held limply in my hoof. “You have to let it go.”
“I can’t... I can’t. I don’t know why, but I just can’t.” The mob of burned ponies seemed to close in, ever so slightly. “It’s not like I want to carry these.” My hoof had become burdened under a thick ring of dog tags, their names blurry and unrecognizable.
“Don’t let go then. Keep hanging on to this hopeless endeavour!” Elder Ratchet said, flailing his forehooves in a gesture of mock defeat. His voice was slowly coming out more clearly, losing the rasp. “You have no concept of what leadership means. You think it’s all about getting ponies to listen to you?” His tone became firm, like my drill sergeant back at basic training.
“I don’t know. But, I’m trying.” I paused, taking a quick breath. “I’m trying really, really hard.” The silence that greeted me was chilling. For a few moments nopony spoke. I glanced around noticing it had stopped snowing. The ponies around me weren’t burnt husks anymore, they were flesh and blood. And they were all staring at me expectantly.
“Do not try to be a good Elder.” Ratchet spoke carefully, as if finding the words hard to say. “BE a good Elder.”
“But how will I know? What if I get a bitch like Jack Knife in my contingent?”
“HEY!” Jack shouted indignantly.
“There is always a bitch like Jack Knife in the contingent.” Ratchet explained calmly.
“HEY!” Jack Knife shouted again, to the amusement of everypony.
“But it is how you handle them that matters.” I glanced around at the sea of familiar faces, the dog tags no longer seeming so heavy in my hooves.
“Thank you. I’ll uh... I’ll try not to screw it up too bad...” I replied.
Sighing, Elder Ratchet facehoofed gently. “Probably the best we’ll get...” The world began to blur as I felt myself drifting away again. Before I could get away, Ratchet’s almost accusing voice cut through the fog. “And remember, only recruit ponies!”
As I floated away, I pretended not to hear. “Whaaaat? I’m kinda fading out fast here!”
“Oh, shit!” I could just barely make out him curse. “He’s already got a damn-.”
I awoke feeling not refreshed, but definitely better. Glancing around, I realised I was in the medical wing of the stable. Dust coated gurneys and dustier beds filled the room. My saddlebags were lying next to my bed. Searching through them revealed they were devoid of my Med-X.
“He’s gone quiet. Do you think he’s woken up?” Mustang whispered, failing miserably at being quiet. His naturally deep voice echoed in the empty corridors.
“I doubt he’s still asleep, the amount of Med-X I had was hardly enough to tranquilise him.” Crosshair replied calmly. There was an awkward moment of silence as their hooves got closer.
“Good thing he had those spare Med-X syringes, I wouldn’t have wanted to feel what you were doing to him either.” So that was where my Med-X went. I fumed silently for a moment, but let it go for now. I could always get some later. Mustang and Crosshair finally passed by the observation room window. I waved to them as they entered the room.
“Elder, what are you doing?” Crosshair asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know.” I said a bit listlessly. Pulling my hoof out, I realised I had twisted the chains of dog tags around it. Holding them up, I looked at them for a moment. “Thinking.”
Crosshair seemed to pick up on what I was feeling and remained respectfully silent. Mustang on the other hoof was unaware.
“What a fascinating collection of dog tags. I didn’t know you collected them.” He stated, sounding genuinely curious.
“I don’t.” I said dully. I went to lift my own up, but found it was missing. Panicking slightly, I glanced around before finding it lying on the bedside table.
“Oh.....Oh, um, er... My apologies, Elder. I was, ahem, unaware of how important they were to you... I’ll just...” An awkward silence threatened to fall upon us, but was quickly squashed by a tinny voice.
“Stand clear, stand clear. Patient detected.” A robot hovered into the room, Crosshair and Mustang levelled their guns at it, but hesitated when the robot didn’t react. “All firearms must have their safeties on when not on the firing range. Please put your weapons safeties on, or security will be notified.”
“Do what it says! The last thing we want is Stable security online again.” With reluctance, both of them put their weapon’s safeties on and allowed the robot to hover over to me. It was a Mister Handy model, specifically programmed as a doctor. The Ministry of Peace’s cross with three butterflies was painted on the side.
“Good evening patient *TICKET UNIDENTIFIED*, I am the Stable’s official diagnostic robot and medical dispenser.” The Robot moved one of its eye-stalks forward. “Performing diagnostic spell.” A beam of light passed over me, the robot made several strange beeping sounds as it processed the data.
“I can’t inform you of your problems. Your guests will have to wait outside the room.” I could tell just by looking at both of them, that my companions were not in the mood to leave me alone with the robot. I instead, tried a new tactic.
“Can you deliver your diagnosis later? I really, REALLY! Want to catch up with my friends.” A series of fizzing static sounds and beeps emanated from the robot, it likely needed some maintenance or replacement parts. After a long pause, the robot’s eyes flickered three times.
“Your condition is not life threatening. I shall deliver my diagnosis later, shutting down to conserve power.” The robot hovered across the room and into an alcove hidden behind some overturned furniture. The robot’s legs folding up neatly as it shut down.
“Well now. That was unexpected.” Crosshair muttered.
“I think it’s damaged, given how long it was taking to process a simple request. I’ll take a look at it later.” I said with a hint of weariness. I still felt tired, being knocked out is no substitute for proper rest.
“Do you want to talk about your dog tags Elder?” Crosshair asked. I contemplated the question, weighing spilling my guts to them.
“No... not really, but it would probably help in the long run....” Mustang levitated two chairs out from a corner and set them by the bed. They both got comfortable as I got ready to talk. “I suppose I should explain about these right?” I rattled the dog tags for emphasis. “Every Ranger gets one, initiates, scribes, knights, paladins etcetera. It’s kind of like a personal record.” Mustang raised a hoof, to interrupt me. I nodded and let him speak.
“What do you mean it’s a personal record Elder? It looks like a plain, if slightly thick piece of plated steel.”
“Looks can be deceiving Mustang. Allow me to demonstrate.” I levitated my own dog tag in front of me and carefully pressed it together, whilst unclasping a tiny lock on the bottom. The lock was cleverly concealed inside the plain tag, which popped open and revealed a thin strip, glowing with blue arcane magic.
“Is that some kind of...storage device?” Crosshair asked, leaning in closer.
“It is Crosshair, it is. Think of it like a holotape or recording that you can add to and edit. Normally it’s a scribe’s job to add data to dog tags and record everything on them, onto a maneframe.” I reassembled my dog tag and put it back on. “These dog tags, these pieces of plated steel and data storage devices...They’re all I have left of them, all I have left of everyone I knew.” Oh Cocknoodles, my eyes were watering. Leaders weren’t supposed to cry.
“Elder are you-” Mustang asked, before I cut him off.
“I’m...I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. Did I ever tell you about Jack Knife?” Both stallions shook their heads at me.
“To be honest Elder, you’ve been rather guarded about your past.” Crosshair explained.
“Yeah. Heh, sorry about that. I’ve been trying not to think about the crash or my past much. So Jack Knife, she was...a bitch. No not a bitch; ‘Thee Bitch’ of our, sorry, my contingent.” I paused for a second to let my words sink in. “She got to be queen bitch with her attitude and the fact she was a senior knight. Not a Paladin you understand, but she outranked regular knights and initiates. Jack Knife got some special privileges, like being allowed to bully the lower ranking knights and initiates, all on account of her special talent.”
“What was her special talent? Leadership, using guns?” Mustang asked, I snorted, shaking my head and smiling.
“No. Her talent was a metal detection spell.” I could see Mustang and Crosshair were both let down. “Hey that spell was nothing to sniff at. She could fine tune that spell to detect certain alloys, specifically the ones used in making certain weapons.” Realization dawned on both Crosshair and Mustang’s faces.
“So due to her unique spell, Jack Knife was allowed to be a Knight? Despite being a unicorn?” Crosshair asked.
“Exactly. And oh how she enjoyed flaunting that fact, walking around in her damn armor. In fact, let me tell you about when she first got her promotion...”
_______ooOoo _______
Rust. Every wall was covered in layers of rust and grime. The walls had become this rotten mess over a period of years, laying forgotten as the room was designated as a storage space. Now I was tasked with removing two centuries of rust, a punishment I felt was wholly unjust. I mean, okay, I had been helping Scribe Wavelength tinker and construct a device we found on some old schematics. But I hardly feel I was responsible for when she tested the device and blew down one of the walls of our compound.
Wavelength got reprimanded and was made to help rebuild the wall. I got lumbered with derusting some of the older rooms. It was dull, boring work, but I was at least allowed to use magic. I levitated a wad of steel wool and used my hoof to scrub another wad of wiry wool on the rusty walls.
I was almost out of the vinegar I was using, when I heard the familiar heavy stamping of power armor. No doubt a knight was bringing me another bucket of vinegar.
“Ugh, what’s that smell? Did somepony spill a vat of vinegar?” A mare’s voice asked. “Oh, no wait, it’s just you Inky.” The mare finished, giggling to herself.
“Hello Jack...” I said flatly. “Did you see a knight with a bucket of vinegar? I’ve nearly run out and-” She cut me off mid-sentence
“Geeze, Inky, rude much? At least turn around if you’re going to talk to me.” I sighed, turning around and dropping both my steel wool sponges. Jack Knife was there all right, but she was wearing a full suit of power armor, minus a helmet. Her smile only grew bigger seeing my reaction. “HAH! Your expression is priceless.” A white flash blinded me as Jack Knife took a photo on a camera she’d been levitating.
“Gimmie that! I’m not letting you post photos of me all over the compound!” I yelled indignantly. “I look like shit!”
“As opposed to how you normally look?” She replied snidely.
Not even bothering to say anything, I presented myself with my hoof, swaying it as if saying ‘look at me, and think about what you just said.’
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right... Waste of a good photo right there. I’m just celebrating my promotion to Knighthood. I want to capture every moment of this day.” Inside I was privately seething, I really shouldn’t have been. She earned the promotion, because it fit her skill set. She walked closer, still smiling brightly.
“Congratulations.” I said sarcastically. “I’m sure the wasteland will tremble at your hoofsteps.” I added in the same pouty tone.
“Oh shut up, Inkwell. You’ll get the chance to try on power armor some day. Probably when you have to set my armor and try it on for me. I’m sure the mare setting will fit you perfectly.” I gritted my teeth, biting back a retort. She was technically my superior officer now. “Come by my quarters later Inky, you can fill out my requisition forms for me.” As if that was happening.
“Forget it, Jack. I’m busy enough without having another workload on me. Do your own damn paperwork.” I retorted
“Ugh, Luna’s backside, Inkwell. How can you be so smart and still be so stupid!” She was nearly in my face at this point, and if looks could kill, I’d have had a nice hole in my head. Suddenly she lurched forward, and our heads collided.
Cursing in bewilderment, I tried to shove her back. Unfortunately power armored mares are pretty heavy, and I only succeeded in mashing our faces together even more. Finally, after some moments of awkward face mumbling, Jack Knife pulled back, her face showing disappointment.
“This, uh... armor is hard to get used to.” She said abruptly, then turned away and left me to myself.
I pulled myself off of the nasty, runny wall with a horrible sucking sound. My coat was stained with rust. Nearly crying in anguish, I left my punishment unfinished. I needed to be clean again, and was later reprimanded for tricking a few of the other initiates into finishing my work.
_______ooOoo _______
“And that’s just one of the times she made a mess for me to clean up!” I finished, a little anger heating my words. “It took days to get the red out! If there’s one good thing that came out of it, she stopped calling me Inky after that.”
“Elder... Do you understand the concept of romance?” Mustang asked, completely out of the blue.
“It, uh, it has something to do with neurochemical stimulants and some type of courting methods, usually towards a mare... right?” Crosshair facehoofed so hard it made a cracking sound.
“You are Doomed Elder. Doooooomed.” Crosshair stated sadly, shaking his head as he got up. “I’m not sure how you missed all those signs.” Signs? What was he talking about? There was nothing I missed. Crosshair’s face had frozen, whilst I was pondering a devious smile on his face. “Elder. Have you ever had sex?” I felt my face redden quickly.
“I, uh... Crosshair that’s...! I... NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” Crosshair and Mustang were giving me those judging looks again. “Hey, I’ve done it before! I’m no virgin! It took HOURS!”
“Riiiiiiight” The two rangers said in eerie unison.
“We’ll just let you get some sleep now.” Mustang stated, standing up.
“That’s right Elder, try to avoid any amorous dreams won’t you? We don’t want you falling out of bed.” The two stallions walked out of the room, leaving me with a growing sense of dread.
I managed to get a couple of hours of much needed sleep, after Crosshair returned and assured me that the Stable door was shut. I slept comfortably, no dreams of vague fires or images of evil zebras. When I awoke feeling truly refreshed for the first time in ages, I was eager to get out of bed. Unfortunately my ribs were still giving me trouble. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it did make me think twice about sudden movements. A cool syringe of Med-X, that I had to convince Crosshair to give me, and I was almost ready to go.
We ate a quick breakfast of two-hundred year old sandwich in a can (peanut butter and ‘raspberry’ jelly). The can was a lie though, you had to spread the jelly and butter on the bread yourself. It made me a little off put, and subtle suggestions of what I would do to the inventor if it turned out he was ghoulified pleasantly lurked at the back of my thoughts.
Riding the elevator to the top, I finished what was left of the lie in a can. We entered the Overstallion’s office later, now without the deadly robots ready to shoot us. I tapped one of the walls suspiciously, hearing a hollow clang of a hidden room. That was where T.I.T had decided to hide some backup for their employee’s protection. There was a large terminal that took up the back wall, which likely held all of this stable’s instructions. Curious, I accessed it, finding it to be surprisingly enough, not password protected.
The screen flickered as I was on the main menu, I scrolled through the options before selecting the Stable instructions tab. Two more options popped up, the Stable-Tec instructions and the T.I.T instructions. I tried the Stable-Tec one first.
“Greetings Overmare. You have been chosen to lead this Stable in an exciting endeavour. We at Stable-Tec believe that somewhere along the way, Ponykind lost its way. That is why your Stable will be participating in an exciting joint-company project with Trotsworth Independent Technologies, that’s T.I.T. for short. The goal of this stable is to-” The message cut off abruptly and was replaced by the sound of static. “Test. Testing. One, two, three.” The hell? Did someone accidentally record over something as important as Stable Instructions? More static filled our ears, before a new voice finally replaced it.
“Hello, this is Pinstrike Trotsworth, CEO of Trotsworth Independent Technologies.” Well, hello back to you! Things had just gotten very, very interesting.
“Our company has the pleasure of working with Stable-Tec, a joint project full of risk and unique opportunity.” There was a pause and muffled whispering, and sounds of somepony crumpling up and throwing away a piece of paper. “This Stable is not a proper Stable, it’s been converted into an ammo storage and testing laboratory. Plenty of the other Stables we are building will be used for their intended purpose. Stable-Tec is unaware of this, and their employees in this stable must be left unaware of this deception.
“In the event of the highly improbable megaspell apocalypse or outright destruction of Equestria, this stable will close automatically. There will be enough food to keep the senior most staff alive and well, before they can migrate to another of our stables. There will also be an adequate amount of radiation and hazardous environment survival equipment for the trek through the potentially irradiated ruins to Stable XII.
“You will no doubt have noticed the numerous robots around this particular stable. They were intended as part of some idiotic Stable-Tec experiment, but have been repurposed as security robots. You should already know this due to the many, many safety briefings, but I’ll say it once again: Do not try to take testing or training equipment from the Stable or the firing range.
“This, as you know, will result in the Stable security turning hostile, until the stolen equipment is returned or the stable security is reset. Fortunately you can do this from your desk or if it comes to it, you can always reset the system from Engineering or the Stable Security offices. We hope that...” There was a sigh of exasperation and mutterings we couldn’t make out before the tape cut off abruptly. I guess that explained the robots behaviour. The massive robot following us must have assumed we had taken weapons from the firing range. I facehoofed, thinking of the waste it had turned out to be after all. If only we’d known beforehoof.
“Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with.” Crosshair stated almost nonchalantly as he rifled through the Overstallion’s desk. “I think you know what we need to do Elder.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yep. Obviously we just have to disable the robo-”
Crosshair cut me off, slamming his hoof on the Overstallions desk. “No Elder, we have to destroy them. Machines can’t be trusted, you ponies were too reliant on them during the war.”
That was complete nonsense, of course. The Zebras had used warmachines all the time.
For a moment there was complete silence, and I noticed Mustang and Crosshair were staring at me. Mustang in interest, and Crosshair in a mix of loathing and denial.
“Go on,” Mustang said expectantly.
“Er... did I just say that out loud?” I asked hesitantly.
“You did, Elder. Though to be fair, it is a valid argument.” Mustang responded diplomatically, taking the neutral side. I glared a little at him for being so... neutrally not on my side.
“Well, my point still stands. Zebras used robots just as much as the ponies did. Maybe even more than us at some point, later in the war.” Shrugging, I trotted to the overstallion’s desk and accessed his terminal. “If some of the reports are to be believed, they were eventually going to try to only fight with them.”
Crosshair huffed in obvious anger. Flailing his head around, he started to bang his hooves on the floor. “Nnnngh~! Noooo!” He said, his voice a bit strangled. “Lies...! Evil...! UUGH~!” For a moment, he just took a large breath and then slowly let it out, his face turning a bit red. I was suddenly worried he might pop a blood vessel or something.
“Woah, there!” Mustang said in concern, pushing his hooves onto Crosshair’s shoulders. “You have to calm down, the Elder is only speaking what is... what he believes to be true.” It was true, but it seemed like a bad time to point that out.
“Crosshair, go lie down. Mustang go with him and make sure he does.” They stood around for a little bit, Crosshair half looking like he wanted to lash out at me. Mustang guided him from the room, keeping a firm hoof on his shoulder.
I waited until they had entered the elevator before I began examining the Overstallion’s terminal. It contained a helpful map of the Stable and showed all the PipBuck signatures and robots patrolling the lower and upper floors. There also seemed to be something called OSDefMeas. I was really sure I’d never heard anything like that before. Selecting it, I suddenly had to cling to the desk as it groaned and shuddered. With a squeal of metal, the circular dais it rested on rose up, and twin linked gatling lasers deployed from the sides.
Staring over the front, I couldn’t help but mutter in amazed excitement. “Wooooooah...!” This was awesome, this desk... no, my desk had roof and desk mounted gatling lasers. I had to show it off to the other guys sometime. I selected the OSDefMeas option again and then proceeded to select the stable’s security robots, shutting them all down. The robot blips vanished from the map all at once. I got up and decided to go inspect the firing range, maybe test out a couple of the exotic bullets.
“~Shot by shot, bullets hit the target.~” I sang cheerfully, watching as the last green tipped bullet exploded in a corrosive burst of acid on the pony shaped target at the end of the range, leaving a nasty puddle. I made a quick note on a clipboard I had found and proceeded to the next loaded assault rifle. There was a line of them, sitting along a table. They’d been here for a long time, but they hadn’t needed much in the way of maintenance. Pulling out the clip, I pulled out a single round, and wrote the serial number down, and a brief description. Loading it back in, I leveled the rifle at the next target.
The door to the range hissed open, a familiar medical robot hovered in, dragging a gurney with its gripper claw.
“Ah, there you are, *TICKET UNIDENTIFIED*. You are alone now, and I am pleased to report you have a developing addiction.” Worst. Bedside manner. Ever.
“I’m not addicted. I had to take those med-x syringes. I was in pain!” The robot’s eyes flashed, making fizzing sounds as it processed what I said.
“Typical addict denial. I am required to provide medical attention. Now that you are aware of your condition, you are obligated under company policy #1345-j8 to immediately undergo treatment.”
“I don’t want you to perform surgery, you malfunctioning tin can!” I shouted, backing away from the advancing robot. I needed my power armor back, approximately five minutes ago.
“Medical procedures are mandatory and non-negotiable, young lady. Even if I have to incapacitate you to treat you.” The robot brought its buzzsaw arm forward with a whine, and charged at me.
Telekinetically pulling the rifle close to me, I settled the butt against my chest and pulled the trigger. The recoil slammed the rifle against me, but I cushioned it with my magic. The rifle chattered almost happily, slamming round after round into the rushing robot. Each bullet hit with a small blue arc of electricity, punching holes into the light armor. As the dead weight of the bot fell upon me, I shoved a hoof up, bracing the still flailing armature away from me. Jamming the barrel of the gun against one of the holes, I held the trigger down until it clicked empty.
Pushing the bot back, it clattered to the ground. Taking a deep breath, I levitated the clipboard over, and marked off the EMP round functionality box. Looking around, all I could do was wish that Mustang, or even Crosshair had seen how EPIC I had just looked. Why couldn’t I do stuff like that when I wasn’t alone? I let out a resigned sigh. It suddenly occurred to me that I had supposedly shut down all of the robots. I guess medical, and maybe maintenance robots, were excluded? Getting over it, I levitating the robot out onto the firing range, and with some difficulty, set it up like another target.
“Can I join you Elder?” I turned to see Crosshair standing by the door, giving me a blank look.
“Of course you can, grab a gun Ranger, you can help test out some of these bullets.” Crosshair trotted over to the table of guns and began examining them. He finally selected a sniper rifle but took a moment to swap out the scope for one he’d been carrying in his saddlebag.
“I have to test out my new scope Elder. It’s going on my Zebra rifle after all.” Crosshair explained, before he loaded a clip of experimental bullets into his sniper rifle. He took aim at the expired doc I had propped up and fired.
What happened next was a thing of beauty.
The round exploded out of the muzzle in an eye searing blast of light and heat. The flaming bullet left a streak of afterimage along my retinas, before bursting violently against the lightly armored robotic hull. With a resounding roar, a pillar of flame burst through the top of the bulbous chassis. Before the flames could reach the ceiling above, a series of chemical retardants blasted out of barely visible vents.
Almost as soon as I understood what was happening, at least a third of the roof opened up, revealing extractor fans, which powerfully suctioned the dense smoke and powder. My mane flapped against my face as the turbine generated wind sucked air in from behind me. Then, with a suddenness that was almost startling, it all retracted back in, leaving the firing range almost as if nothing had happened. The only visible remains were the now half melted, chemical powder coated husk of the medical bot. Small shards of metal rained down in plinks and patters, tinkling merrily in my ringing ears.
I slowly swivelled my head towards Crosshair, my hooves coming up to frame my face in astonished wonder. “Wooooow...!” I said breathily, feeling like a little foal discovering the beauty of guns for the first time. “That was aaaaawesoooome~!”
“That was not awesome Elder, that bullet was incredibly dangerous. What if it jammed in the barrel and exploded?” Crosshair pointed out, trying to bring me out of my gun induced high.
“Ahah, n-no~! shhh-shhhhh!” I said, interrupting him. “Can’t talk for a minute. Need to let certain body parts settle down.” Crosshair gave me a confused look as I dashed from the room. I didn’t have time to think on it as I dashed into the closest public bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I turned on the faucet at full blast. Immediately I started yelling in pain. I’d turned on the wrong side, and it was practically molten hot.
I quickly splashed my face with cold water, but my face was still stinging like crazy. I couldn’t think straight like this, too many little nerves prickling me. I placed my hooves on the counter and reached for the cold tap when my hooves slipped, causing me to heabutt the mirror. I yelped as I cut my face and stumbled backwards, falling and hitting the back of my skull, while bits of glass showered down around me. I rolled to sit up, imbedding small pieces of glass into my back, exacerbating the situation.
Sweet Luna’s rounded backside, this hurt. I very carefully trotted over to another mirror and used it to look at my back and pick out as many pieces of glass as I could with my magic. Once that was done, I cleaned my face up as best I could and dabbed water on my cuts. I spotted a Ministry of Peace medical box besides the door and pulled it open. There was no Med-X inside, but there was a healing potion. I glanced outside the bathroom briefly and then levitated my last vial of sweet painkilling medicine out of my tail where I had been hiding it.
I glanced inside the medicine box and pulled out a length of medical tubing, tying it around my right leg to expose a vein. I tightened the vein with my teeth and and left hoof and using my magic, injected the syringe of painkiller. Cold and smooth relief flooded through my body, numbing all my little aches and pains. I sighed contently, just enjoying the sensation before I popped open the healing potion and sipped the deliciously cherry flavored potion, letting it knit my cuts closed.
With a yelp, I put my hoof up to my right ear. Looking in the mirror, I could see a bit of glass still hanging in it, the skin healing around it. Whipping out the bit of glass, I downed the last of the potion, but it was too late. The skin had completely closed, and the small hole remained. Maybe nopony would notice? I just had to pretend my ear was always pierced, who really focuses on a pony’s ear anyway? I mean, I wasn’t going to obsess over it or anything... I flipped it with a hoof a few more times just to make sure it wasn't going to change on me. Nope. Ugh...
With a last glance at it in the mirror, I turned and walked out of the restroom. Outside I walked into Mustang who gave me a suspicious look.
“Are you okay Elder? I heard strange sounds from the bathroom.”
“Of course you did, I wasn’t... uh, rather, I was... er... Having some trouble...?” An awkward silence descended as I let Mustang’s imagination fill in the pieces.
“I...see. Well, now you’re feeling, better...?” There was that awkward pause again... “Perhaps you’d like to join me? I was going to inspect Hailstorm, perhaps you could fix up your own Power Armor?” Mustang had a point, I couldn’t spend all my time productively testing out bullets. I had to fix up my armor, get back out there and recover some more technology. After finding my first Stable, I just knew I was going to be hooked on that feeling of discovery and reclamation. And the bullets~!
“That sounds like a good idea Mustang. I’ll need your help to carry it though, it’s quite heavy.”
“Fascinating... I see why the Steel Rangers are so successful now. This armor, it could turn anyone into a walking tank.” Mustang said, his tone one of wonderment. “So why did you only bring one suit?”
I looked up from my armor. We’d relocated to the PipBuck technician workshop, and I’d been slowly stripping the warped plates from the equally bent infrastructure. The room was overflowing with machining equipment, and I found it hard to contain my excitement at moments, random squee’s squeaking out of me before I could stop them. Containing another shot of happiness, I thought over Mustang’s question.
“I brought a lot of replacement parts, but taking an entire suit would have been weight expensive, and they only help me carry so much.” I explained. Theoretically I could have carried another suit, if I had had time to get another one from the airship armory’s lockers.
“Ah that makes sense. So when do I get a suit?” Mustang asked.
It was a good question, unfortunately I didn’t have any good answers. If there was any power armor in Wintertrot, they would have been stored in military facilities, which would be in lockdown or heavily guarded. “I could, potentially, jury rig some of the servos I have at the moment to help make a frame, but I’m gonna need a bunch more armor and parts. It’d be better to just find a complete suit and customise it to your... size.”
“Are you saying I’m... Fat?” Mustang asked, his eyes flashing alarmingly. His lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly, and I couldn’t help but worry that things might go drastically downhill in a moment.
“O-of course not Star Paladin. I merely meant because you have a taller and more muscular body than myself or Crosshair.” I explained in my best apologetic tone. Mustang glared at me suspiciously, before finally speaking.
“I understand Elder. Just don’t call me fat, I work hard to maintain my figure.” I nodded and decided to focus on inspecting my leg servos and pistons to ensure they were all still properly functioning.
Taking a power clamp, I started exerting pressure to pop the warped plate off. With a loud metal bang, the plate flew off, ricocheted from the ceiling, and impacted along one of the mesh locker doors. For a moment, Mustang and I looked at it, then back at one another. “Woops.” I said, almost as an afterthought.
I left the plate there as I checked over the damaged internals. The self repair talisman was at least still working, but it would need more scrap metal. It had run out at some point, most likely while I was being squished by the oversized security bot. Looking at one of the power junctions reminded me to check over the Magi-drill. I was fairly certain it was fine, but I’d... Squinting in thought, I looked at Mustang.
“I think I know how we can get you power armor, after all.”
I was sprinting back to the firing range, giddy as a colt firing his first laser rifle. Mustang followed asking pointless questions like ‘where we were going’ and ‘wait stop, there’s a hole in the floor’. I burst into the shooting range, after the door politely whooshed open. With a sudden halt, Mustang and I simply stared at the scene before us. Crosshair was sitting sedately, eating a packet of animal crackers calmly topping them with a dollop of green toothpaste.
“Hold on.” I stated. “I’m just gonna leave and come back in and maybe I’ll understand what is going on better.” I stepped back through the door, closed it, opened it again, and then stepped through.
Staring for a moment longer did nothing to help.
“Yeah, still not getting it.” I said flatly
“I don’t see what the problem is, Elder. I found this delicious ‘wintergreen mint’ cream, and decided to have lunch early.”
“Uhhh...” Mustang said eloquently.
I winced away, having much the same thought process. “You know that is for brushing your teeth, right...?”
“Why would I brush my teeth?” Crosshair asked, sounding a bit more confused than he should.
“Gingivitis, abscesses and tooth decay, just to name a few reasons. How else are you supposed to clean your teeth?” I asked incredulously.
Mustang's eyes boggled out. “DO YOU EVEN FLOSS?!”
“Flossing? Like candy floss?” Crosshair asked, still chewing the cracker.
“Stop eating that! It’s bad for you!” I yelped. “You’re going to throw up! How much have you eaten so far?!”
We looked at the table he was sitting at. There were three or four completely emptied tubes, crumpled and squeezed for what looked like every last drop. One was even split open, the insides licked clean.
“Oh my Celestia, I’d laugh if I didn’t know how much this is going to suck for you...”
“What are you talking abo-HURK!”
Mustang and I fled from the room. “YOU HAVE TO CLEAN IT UP LATER!” I yelled as we escaped the horrible sounds of Crosshair’s suffering.
We spent a while sitting outside the door. A long, awkward while, filled only with the faint sounds of what I’m fairly certain was Crosshair’s sickly moaning.
“That was... educational?” Mustang said uncertainly, shattering the quiet. “Why were we going to the firing range anyway Elder?” He asked.
“I was going to ask Crosshair where the mining facility was. They have exoskeleton rigs that they put drills on, like my Magi-drill. I can use them to make you a set of armor.” I explained, Mustang’s face brightened at the mention of his own suit. “At least, I think I can. I believe. Maybe.”
“Well why didn’t you say so? Lets go ask our striped friend.” And then he opened the door, to a sight that would haunt me till the day I’d die. There was Crosshair, laying in pool of minty green puke, trying to stand up, but slipping and falling back into it with wet sounds. Reaching over, I closed the door.
“Let’s wait.” I said, trying to bleach my brain. “We’ll ask him when he’s better. And cleaned up.” Mustang nodded in agreement, his own face looking quite pale.
We didn't see Crosshair until dinner time, which gave us ample time to finish working on my power armor. We were in the Stable’s public cafeteria, Mustang cooking in the kitchen whilst I set up a table for us. Crosshair walked unsteadily into the room, clean and showered but still looking sick as he slumped onto the table.
“Why are equestrian goods so deceptive.” Crosshair mumbled, his face resting on the table. “I mean who cares about taste if you’re not supposed to eat it?” Crosshair groaned, clutching his stomach.
“So how do you clean your teeth normally Crosshair?” I asked, genuinely curious to know how he had been taking care of his teeth.
“We take a cloth and dip it in a special solution. Then we use that damp cloth to clean our teeth, I didn't even know toothpaste existed until today.” Crosshair explained, before curling up and grabbing his stomach.
“You’ll be fine Crosshair, you just have to take some deep breaths, maybe eat something else so you don’t feel so bad?” We didn’t need to wait long, as Mustang returned with a large omelette on a platter.
I scooped a few hoofulls onto my plate, then took a tentative bite. It tasted awesome. I started shovelling as much into my face as fast as I could. “Where did you get the eggs?” I asked, cheeks bulging.
“Oh, I got them from a radigator nest when we were still on the surface.”
I managed to force myself to swallow the first mouthful, rather than spray it on the table. “Did you say radigator eggs?” I asked a little queasily..
“Oh yes Elder, best eggs you can get, unless you want to try stealing cockatrice or other killer bird eggs.” Mustang said, before adding. “After all, a radigator won’t follow you far inland, but an angry bird can chase you for miles.”
“Where did you even get radigator eggs?” Crosshair asked munching away at his own eggs.
“I found them in a river before I came to Wintertrot, sold half of them to a merchant for a good deal on some canned food.” Mustang replied.
We sat in silence, no more words needed to be said as we ate through our food. The radigator omelette had a spicy taste to it, and still tasted awesome, even if it was a bit disturbing where it came from. I waited until we were nearly finished to speak again.
“So Crosshair, how far are we from the mining facilities?” I asked, Crosshair didn't immediately reply, chewing slowly on his omelette.
“We are roughly two days from the mines, three if you want to take your time and be careful.” Crosshair paused tapping his hoof on the table. “You want to go to the mines don’t you?” He glanced at Mustang and myself and groaned.
“What’s wrong with the mines Crosshair? Are they full of monsters? Dangerous natural hazards? Rogue Robots? Cultists?” I asked, trying to lay out as many scenarios I could think of.
“The area around the mines are booby trapped by the creatures living there. They doggedly hunt down anything that tries to enter the mines-” I laughed out loud at his pun, bits of egg flying everywhere. After giving me the stinkeye, Crosshair continued. “And are fiercely territorial. Please tell me we aren't going there.”
“I'm afraid we must, Knight Crosshair.” Mustang said in a somber tone. “The mines are the only place we know we can find suits of power armor for us.” Crosshair sighed, standing up and taking my plate.
“I'm still hungry.” Crosshair said his mouth half full. “We’ll need to be at full strength for the trek. Eat plenty, we won’t have time to stop tomorrow.” Crosshair stood up, now more steadily than when he first arrived.
“I'm sure he’s exaggerating Elder.” Mustang said, though his tone was clearly conflicted.
“I'm not.” Crosshair said seriously. “If we don’t want to die, we’ll have to be constantly moving. There will be no time for rest.” On that note Crosshair left us sitting there, wondering what awaited us.
“It’s a bit loose, Elder. What did you do to my barding?” Crosshair inquired as we suited up and prepared to leave. We were standing before the stable door, our equipment arrayed around us as we prepared to leave. Mustang was fussing over Hailstorm, and I was having trouble clipping the magi-drill onto my leg plating.
“I only treated the metal alloys to harden them Crosshair, maybe they stretched out a bit?” I had taken to closing up some bullet holes his recon armor hadn't fully stopped for its previous owner. I hoped. Like any good leader, I had stolen away his armor and made a few tweaks and treated the armor with some hardening solvents.
“Did everyone remember to return all the testing guns?” Mustang asked, now finished adjusting Hailstorm and his battle-saddle.
“Yes Mustang. We double, and at Knight Crosshair’s insistence, triple checked.” My magi-drill finally connected with my power armor once more. I’d made all the repairs I could and let the auto-repair feature work its magic on what I couldn't.
“Let us be off then Elder, we've got dangerous territory to pass through.” Mustang said rather too jovially for my liking.
“Yes Star Paladin, and that’s just leaving the stable. Wait until we’re on the streets again, then we only have to worry about Snow Pirates, Raiders and Super Stallions.” Crosshair stated flatly.
I opened the door using the little control terminal. The door hissed and slid inward, before an arm swung down and pulled it aside. We were greeted by the sight of dozens upon dozens of ghostly blue eyes as ghouls looked at us in surprise. I felt my back legs lock up, fear seizing me in it’s icy grip. With a surge they came in, pooling around each other in a storm of thundering hooves.
Out of the rushing herd a voice yelled out. “Alright, which one of you idiots changed the password?”
Fallout: Equestria - Rangers of Wintertrot Chapter 7: Hot Potatoes “It doesn't matter who we are... What matters is our plan.”
“Uh...” I twitched inside my armor, trying desperately hard not to pee myself. We were surrounded on all sides by a moving, raging mass of rotted flesh, and cold lifeless eyes. The undead horde we had thought been secured behind the ice sheet had returned and now had a hold of Crosshair and Mustang. They were all over us, trying to peel off weapons, armor and clothing, anything to get to the sweet pony meat below the hard surfaces.
Three of them were trying to yank off my plated armor and failing miserably, there hooves clanging loudly against my back. While it was freaking me out that they were this close, the sudden jostling helped to jumpstart my brain back into action.
I snap assessed the situation. This close and they were putting me in the explosive envelope if I were to use my missile launcher. Instead, I gripped my shotgun in my magic, unclasping the top of the leather holster reassuringly strapped to my chest. It was the only weapon that seemed to survive being around me, and in these close quarters, it would do just as much damage, if not more, than a rifle. Once I ran out of ammo, I could use it as a club in tandem with my Magi-Drill.
However, before I could pull it out, a green magical aura wrapped around it, keeping it in place. “Elder, you’re being awfully quiet! Why don’t you introduce yourself?!” Mustang half-shouted cheerfully much to my shock, whilst giving an extremely enthusiastic hoofshake to one of the ghouls.
Taking a moment to really look around, I finally realised what I’d been seeing. The ghouls were all talking at once, voices rushed and nearly babbling. They were excited for some reason, but in a happy manner, not a blood thirsty way. They weren't tearing off our clothing and armor, but they had stripped off my front leg armor...
Wait... WHAT!
An earth pony ghoul had unbolted my leg armor and was shaking his head, frowning as he examined it.
“Hey, give that back. I need that!” The ghoul pony ignored me, walking off with the piece of dismantled armor. Another ghoul was trying to pull the missile launcher off of my back, and yet another ghoul was tutting as she pulled out and began inspecting my shotgun.
“Fascinating,” The ghoul enamored by my missile launcher stated, examining the autoloader. “A Vultur-Gryphus saddle-bag. Never thought I’d see one of these babies again.” By this point I was definitely beginning to grow annoyed. Looking over, I could tell Crosshair was too. The zebra was standing on his hind legs and using his forehooves to keep the ghouls from touching his equipment by holding it all above his head. Mustang, on the other hand, seemed to be soaking up the attention, and he was even striking a pose or two, letting that strange subtle light out to dazzle the dull eyes of what I was hesitantly sure were a trio of female ghouls.
“You! Are you the idiot that changed the password?” A ghoul with a stained lab coat asked me, suddenly appearing in my face. I nearly retched from the smell, the filters in my helmet obviously failing in scrubbing the horrendous stench out.
“It wasn't exactly difficult. What kind of idiot makes the password, ‘password’?” I asked, whilst trying not to gag.
“It’s such an obvious password that no one would think to enter it.”
“Uh, I did. So your argument is invalid. Therefore, I’m smarter than you.”
“You're luckier, not smarter. Who else would think to make a bullet that shoots confetti?”
“That’s not smart, that’s just...bizarre! Who would want a bullet that shoots confetti?”
“Obviously a Ministry mare would want it, and it’s good for the kiddies to practice their shooting with safe rounds.”
“SAFE ROUNDS!” Stopping to think about it, I had shot Crosshair with one. “I um, yeah... That actually makes sense.”
“WHAT!” I turned around to see Crosshair and Mustang giving me concerned looks. The other ghouls in the room had fallen silent.
“Tell that to my one eye, Sprocket.” A ghoul at the back of the crowd called out.
“That’s DOCTOR Sprocket, and we all know we worked out that particular problem in the Alpha build.” Leaning in close he whispered a bit too loudly, his breath chilling my exposed legs. “The Beta builds were impact triggered, and deemed too dangerous for the kiddies. The Alphas use range reading magic to self detonate before actual impact. Proven to be safe 100% of the time in all test firings.”
“We only did ten test firings before the war!”
“AND every single one worked exactly as planned.” Sprocket replied curtly. “Ministry Mare Pinkie Pie herself, approved these rounds.” Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.
“Ten test firings from before the war is not a guarantee of safety from a stockpile of millions.” The same ghoul argued back. “No matter how many times Pinkie swore they were safe.”
“If it helps, we fired two more recently and they were safe.” I added, Sprocket beamed triumphantly at the ghoul in the back.
“Ha! In your face One Eye. I told you they were safe.” Crosshair was looking at me, eyes bulging and hooves trembling in what I presumed was anger.
“YOU SHOT ME WITH UNSAFE BULLETS!” Crosshair roared, causing the circle of friendly ghouls surrounding him to scatter.
“Now Crosshair, I was sure they were safe. Besides, I didn't aim anywhere particularly lethal.”
“You shot AT ME!” Crosshair repeated, stamping one of his hooves.
“YOU SHOT MY EYE!” One Eye shouted from the back.
“Hey, you've got my PipBuck Technician’s key!” A ghoul rummaging through my saddlebag grumbled.
“WHY ARE WE ALL FIGHTING?” Mustang bellowed, though not quick enough to stop One Eye and Sprocket from having the most hilarious hoof fight in history. It started with One Eye throwing a slow punch at Sprocket, barely landing it with a dull squelch. For a moment nothing happened, but then one of the ghouls in back of the onlooking crowd yelled out something along the lines of ‘Geek fight!’ and immediately the two stallions began to pummel one another.
And by pummel, I of course mean they slapped at each other with both forehooves, accidentally headbutting every once in awhile. While this went on, they would occasionally stagger and almost lose their balance, generally due to one of their own punches actually landing, not the other way around. At one point I was amazed to see that they actually started hoof bumping with one leg while hiding their faces with the other in the most non-effective defensive posture I had probably ever seen used.
Eventually, they fell upon the ground, twisting over one another in what I could only describe as one of the most disgustingly wrong, ghoul male on ghoul male action with clothes on, that I’d ever had the misfortune to stumble across. While I knew intellectually that they probably were trying really hard to hurt one another, the jiggling, rotted flesh, and decidedly unhealthy wheezes and groans really didn't help. Also, the condensation from one another’s frostbite inducing breath beading up on them decidedly gave it an air of an exotic rendition of post apocalypse smut.
The hooting and hollering females (and even some males) wolf whistling them on was just over the top.
“This is just sad.” Crosshair said in mild amusement, watching the flailing scientists struggle with one another.
“Does this happen often?” Mustang asked one of the three ghoul mares clustered around him.
“Oh you better believe it, handsome.” One of the ghoul mares leaned in closer to him. ”Doctor Sprocket and Tester One Eye have been fighting about this for close to two hundred years now.”
“Alright you two, break it up. Ah said break it up!” A ghoul wearing a flame retardant suit, pulled the two ponies apart. “Alright now how many times ah’ve we got to go over-” He stopped mid-sentence as One Eye attempted to make another lunge for Sprocket, causing the hoof holding him back to fold up the wrong way, making a rather revolting squelching sound, accompanied with a dull, meaty pop.
“Oh, um. Sorry Tumblewee-” One Eye tried to apologize, but was smacked on the back of the head by Tumbleweed’s still functional hoof.
“Dang it, do you two know how long it takes to fix my legs?! Now I’ve got to put it back into place and hope I find some hydra or skele-gro. That stuff ain't exactly plentiful you know.” Tumbleweed complained, his leg flapping uselessly. The silence that followed threatened to pass quickly, so I decided maybe now was the time to ask some important questions.
“Alright, alright... Enough of these shenanigans, who are you ponies?”
“I’m a grif-” A voice tried to interrupt me
“Who are you people?” I clarified. Sprocket straightened himself out and adjusted his stained coat before speaking.
“We are the original scientists and testers employed by Trotsworth Independent Technologies, in Stable Vee-I-I (that’s roaman for seven by the way).” Somehow I just knew there were parentheses around that last bit. I don’t know how, but I swear you could almost hear them. “It got designated that way to avoid mix ups with the original Stable-Tec stables. We’re the people responsible for most of those lovely bullets.” Sprocket explained.
“And some of the cooler balefire eggs!” A stallion called out.
“And those delightful missiles and rockets that go really fast, and blow up extra big!” One of the mares latched onto Mustang added.
“Yes, yes. We made many wonderful types of ammunition, in the name of SCIENCE!” Sprocket shouted the last word, raising a hoof dramatically.
“Right...So what exactly do you people want?”
“Well, we’d like our stable back.” Sprocket stated cheerily. Heads bobbed up and down in agreement around him.
“We can’t just give you the stable back. Do you ponies have any idea how many times we were nearly killed just claiming it? One of the Mister Handies dissolved my brand new Western Equestrian Armaments M1918 automatic rifle into a puddle of plasma!” The ghouls had the decency to look uncomfortable, shuffling their hooves and trying not to look at me.
“Aw, that sucks.” One of the crowd said sympathetically. “I really like those...”
“How about we compromise?” Tumbleweed suggested
“We’ll give you half...” Crosshair stated charitably. “Of nothing.” Or not.
“I do the negotiating around here Knight Crosshair.” I said sternly. “And first thing on the agenda is giving me back my power armor!” The ghouls had skillfully stripped down my power armor while I was busy talking with Tumbleweed without my noticing. Now a small gaggle of them were poking their muzzles inside the exposed innards and jabbing at random things with sharp instruments.
“We can’t do that yet.” A ghoul levitating a small blowtorch responded. With a small spark and a hiss, it lit up menacingly close to my side. Dropping a welding mask on, his voice came out a little muffled. “These servos and spell matrices are a mess. And what did you do to the talismans? They look like something stomped on them.”
“The damage was caused by one of the robots. Specifically a giant four legged monstrosity that was much too big for the stable.” I retorted.
The ghouls not clinging to Mustang or working on my armor grimaced. “Ah, yes, we remember THAT robot. No idea what Stable-Tec or Trotsworth were thinking, when they put that abomination inside the stable.” Sprocket said darkly.
“I believe it was supposed to be a deterrent to bullet theft. We only ever kept that thing in the bullet storage level.” The griffin ghoul added helpfully.
“Well, it certainly won’t be stomping on me, I- I mean anypony anymore. I took care of it.” The ghouls let out a collective sigh of relief. Some even smiled, their decaying faces giving me quite a bit more nightmare fuel than I really wanted.
“To be fair, Mustang did do most of the work.” Crosshair added, oh so helpfully.
“I do not like to brag, but it was truly a battle that should go down in history.” Mustang said in a humble voice. “The great metal beast fell upon us, crashing through the steel roof like wet tissue paper!” Mustang dramatized the motion, jumping surprisingly high and landing with a loud slam.
“My Elder bravely distracted the terrible machine whilst Knight Crosshair kept it’s ranged weapons busy.” Mustang accurately mimed Crosshair’s firing technique, though he wasn't able to maintain his balance for long. As he came down, he swept his minigun back up.
As he was telling the story, his voice had slowly gained volume. So much so that he nearly bellowed the last bit while affectionately holding the minigun in the air with his magic. “When Elder Inkwell had to resort to a most daring hoof to hoof combat with it, I saw my chance. While it was disoriented, I sprinted to the floor above and leapt onto the robotic menace’s chassis, where I unleashed the full wrath of Hailstorm!”
Posing heroically, he activated the barrel motor for a short moment with a mechanical whine. Vague, barely audible choir-esque notes heralded a gentle light that seemed to come from everywhere but nowhere at once. Small sparkles shimmered along his well groomed coat, and a nice sheen of light gently flashed along any polished metal he was wearing. Muscles rippled under his flesh, undulating in yet another flavor of extreme male that was the sentient being of Mustang.
The three mares that had been waiting to get back near him immediately dove forwards, striking various poses on and around him that could have come straight from a comic book. One even splayed out near his front legs, one forehoof wrapped around his, swooning heavily.
Next to me, Crosshair smacked his hoof to his face so fast I was surprised there wasn't a sonic boom. “Aaaaand now I’ll never be able to read Sword Mares the same way again...” He said, somehow voicing my exact same thoughts. “I've never seen anything this wrong before.”
“Can we borrow him for an hour?” One of the ghouls still clinging to Mustang asked. There was a brief bit of whispering between the mares before she amended. “Make that two...?”
“I stand corrected.” Crosshair said, his face somehow turning a bit paler.
“Well I don’t know if-” I started, but was interrupted.
“Excellent, come with me ladies.” Mustang said in what I can only describe as the most gentlestallionly tone I’d ever heard as he escorted the rotted mares away.
“But, but... Mustang! We’re supposed to head out to the mines!” Mustang was too engrossed with seducing and being seduced to listen to me as he trotted away.
“Pardon me, but did you just say you were going to the mines?” Tumbleweed asked, disbelief written on his face.
“Yes, we are. Is there a problem?”
Doctor Sprocket cleared his throat, a sound much like a bag of marbles jingling. With some meat thrown in the mix. “It’s not so much that it’s a bad idea, per se. More like a terribly stupid one. During the war, the local mining companies employed diamond dogs native to the far north. They lived and worked in those tunnels.” I didn't like where this was going.
“So you're saying that the diamond dogs...”
“After the end, they stayed in those tunnels. Now we've got Snowhounds. I suspect that’s where they make their dens.” Great, the only source of power armor parts and they were in the dens of Snowhounds.
“Actually, I doubt it’s snowhounds Elder.” Crosshair stated. “Snowhounds don’t take time to lay traps or put up warning signs. We’re probably dealing with an organised group that are particularly cautious and territorial.” I found myself suddenly hoping that it wasn't those cockoodling Enclave artarbiters. That was the last thing I needed, heavily armed and armored ponies with an entire nation most likely willing to send more reinforcements to one of their last mines.
After the short moment of internal worrying, I nodded to Crosshair. “Thank you, but I believe we’re all getting off topic.” I paused a moment to look around at the other ghouls and make sure none of them would interrupt me. “I think we need to work out some kind arrangement. How about we go to my office?” I tried to lead the way, but my power armor was proving to be remarkably heavy and cumbersome. In fact, I couldn't even move. It appeared one of the ghouls had induced a frozen state in the armature of my suit’s joints to prevent potential complications. Sighing heavily, I resigned myself to wait for the scientists to get done. “That is... We’ll go as soon as somepony gets me out of this power armor.” I said, doing my best to keep a positive smile on my face.
I sat in the faux-leather bound chair of the Overstallion.
Reaching out to rub the polished wooden surface, I wanted to think that it was my desk. In my Stable.
But I knew even though taking it had been relatively easy, maintaining a Stable, even one this small, would take a very large number of ponies. I’d need the small army of relatively sane Wintertrot ghouls to help maintain it. I’d need them to test bullets, fix weapons and armor, replace Stable systems when they became worn, and repair when they broke. I’d need them a unified, well oiled machine, and I didn't even need to take the last Mint-als I owned to connect the dots. Of course, I had still taken it anyways, mostly because for something this important I needed every edge I could get to keep all parties satisfied.
Taking a deep breath of the slowly recirculated air, I caught a whiff of dead, rotten flesh, with a hint of... mint, maybe? Opening my eyes, I surveyed those before me. Sprocket and Tumbleweed were standing on the other side of the desk in between us, with a select few others next to or behind them. It seemed evident in our previous conversations that they were the ghoul herd’s appointed leadership and top staff.
Before I could say anything, however, I was cut off by a smooth, lilting voice.
“I’m surprised this stable isn’t flooded with radiation.” Beaker the griffin, the one who’d interrupting me earlier, was examining the room with a geiger counter.
I hadn't known what to think of him when I got a good look at him. He looked like he was in too perfect a condition for a ghoul. All his feathers and fur remained; there were no flaps of hanging skin or missing bits. In fact, if he didn't occasionally let out a super chilled puff of air with every slow breath he took I probably wouldn't have known he was a ghoul at all. Completely ignoring my contemplative silence, he continued on rambling. “Just look at these soldering lines... Absolutely reprehensible. I mean, I had forgotten Trotsworth had cut so many corners, but now I’m surprised they even bothered with the radiation shielding.”
“You can examine the stable later.” I assured the griffin as he scribbled down some notes on a small pad strapped to his arm. “First thing I need to know is what you plan to do with this stable?”
Jumping forwards, Sprocket launched into a near explosion of animation for one so... damaged. “What do we plan to do? That’s easy young Elder. We plan to do SCIENCE!” He declared loudly, raising both of his forehooves and somehow remaining upright. The other ghouls in the room all raised their heads a bit straighter, some even adjusting 200 year old attire. For some reason their enthusiasm was extremely invigorating, and I had to suppress the urge to jump up right then and there and do something... anything that was, well, sciency.
“He means we all want to go back to making experimental bullets and stuff like that.” Tumbleweed explained explained a moment later. “It’s not exactly easy to make the more exotic munitions without the facilities of the stable. We were reduced to making... small calibre armor piercing rounds...” The three ghouls shuddered simultaneously.
“What’s wrong with armor piercing rounds?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “They’re incredibly useful against robots and most armoured targets.”
The ghouls gave me a disbelieving look. Sprocket grit his teeth in anger so hard a back molar popped out of one of his cheek holes. Levitating it back in with a squish, he locked his cold, hard dead eyes with mine. “Armor piercing rounds are simple! SIMPLE! They’re boring to work on, do you have any idea how dull it’s been for us?” Sprocket started pacing back and forth as he continued to rant. “I mean you can’t just sit idle for two centuries, you've got to keep yourself occupied. You have no idea how excited we were when we could finally make a nice explosive round. Many of us literally wept tears of joy. Some for days, even! Then, of course, we used it to kill a cluster of raiders trying to loot our home.” There was a brief pause as the group shared a nostalgic moment of silence, small hums of appreciation gurgling out a little frighteningly.
I coughed politely when the eventual silence began to stretch out a bit uncomfortably. “I can understand what you mean.” I said, trying to sound as sympathetic as I could. “I used to get terribly bored just tinkering and repairing equipment, back when I was just an initiate. I never got to try and improve the gatling lasers or build the experimental weapons from blueprints we recovered.”
“Ah good, you understand then! You have the heart of a tinkerer, I can tell! That shotgun didn't repair itself, did it! No cheating here!” He placed his front hooves on the end of the desk, “So can we have our stable back then?” He asked, whilst, I assumed, he attempted to give me puppy dog eyes. Due to his physical state, it wasn't a surprise that he failed miserably.
“Here’s my proposal.” I placed both my forehooves back on the desk, and clasped them together before me. “You get to live and work in the stable again, now for the Steel Rangers. We’ll bring you food, medicine, amenities. We’ll also provide weapons and technology to examine and fix from around Wintertrot as it becomes available.
“You’ll need to follow some small, minor protocols to help function as an effective unit. Firearms training will be mandatory for any that aren’t yet skilled in at least basic self defense, and especially those going on excursions.
“In the long run, though, all you’ll really need to do is keep the stable running and see about categorizing the bullets on the bottom floor. It’s kind of a confusing mess right now. A wonderful, heavy, pointy mess of destruction, but a mess nonetheless.”
“WHAT!” Beaker screeched loudly enough to make us all wince. “Do you have any idea how long it took us to sort all those bullets in the first place? Which one of you messed up the bullet vault?” The griffin was uncomfortably close to me, leaning over my desk.
“It was like that when we got here. It was probably the rogue robots that made it.” I explained to the ice cold griffin. Beaker huffed in annoyance, retracting his talons from the desk.
“I suppose maintenance will get stuck sorting out that mess?” Tumbleweed asked Sprocket.
“Well the researchers would love to help, but SCIENCE! waits for nopony.” Sprocket stated boldly, garnering disapproving looks from the other two lead ghouls.
“The maintenance team and testers are not wasting their time sifting through and sorting piles of bullets. The researchers designed the bullets, they know how to categorize them best.” Tumbleweed stated bluntly, but patiently.
“But the researchers need to do Science! You know what happens when we don’t do some kind of experiment. Remember when old Doc Agon spent too much time looking after animals instead of doing research?” The ghouls shuddered again, this time in revulsion
“What did Dr Agon do?” I asked, genuinely curious. Tumbleweed and Beaker both gave pained looks while the others behind them made various gestures of warning. A few facehoofed. Suddenly, Sprocket flailed forwards beginning to work himself up again.
“He did the worst thing a scientist can do! He went NATIVE!” Sprocket shouted angrily. “We worked together for years. Invented whole new SCIENCES! And one little apocalypse later he decides to abandon our research and go live with normal ponies.” Sprocket was pacing again, probably out of habit. “I mean what kind of help did he think his expertise could provide to the wasteland anyway? His specialty was combustion weapons and animal cybernetics! Sure, Ministry Mare Fluttershy wasn't too happy about him trying to put animal brains on guns, but he was practicing real SCIENCE! for a while there! Last we heard he found some small town and was teaching ponies veterinary practices! Here! In Wintertrot!”
For a moment I tried to think of how that might be applicable to the extremely hostile environment I had recently been calling home. At best, all I could think of was maybe some medical expertise that paralleled doctoring, but it seemed a bit unbelievable. Maybe he was making cybernetics...? Might actually be worth contacting him, now that I thought of it.
“Okay, so we don’t want the researchers getting...antsy? Can’t we compromise?” I asked, glancing at the three ghouls hopefully.
“It would be so much simpler if you both agreed to a rota.” Beaker commented diplomatically. “Some of the researchers and maintenance teams work together to sift through and sort the bullets.That way it still gets done, but everyone can get some fun in the workshops as well.”
“That seems fair.” Tumbleweed said, nodding to himself.
“So long as we don’t spend TOO long in there we should be fine. Might even be good for a few of the scientists to look at some of our more successful creations.” Sprocket stated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“Okay then, now that that’s settled. How about we go and announce the good news?” I asked the ghouls. I moved to stand up, accidentally hitting the keyboard on the terminal. The desk shuddered, launching me almost all the way to the ceiling, the large autoguns popping out from under the desk.
“COCKNOODLES!” I screamed in terror, about to witness the death of innocent ghouls who promised to be better than any team of scribes a Steel Ranger contingent could muster. When they weren't immediately blasted away, I poked my gaze over my quivering hooves to glance at the terminal in confusion.
*No threats detected. Please deactivate or reset OSDef protocols.*
“I’m surprised that still works.” Beaker stated, getting close and examining the raised platform beneath the desk. Before long, the rest of the group of ghouls were poking at things under rim.
“I thought these got discontinued or scrapped after that one Overmare accidentally killed a Stable-Tec maintenance team?” A ghoul asked aloud.
“Probably another bright idea from the executives at Trotsworth. They were going to put one of their nephews in charge of this stable if I remember correctly.”
“Which one?”
“Does it matter? They were all so dumb it would give us headaches trying to figure out their means of communication.” Dark chuckles washed through the group, doing nothing to help with my tension.
“Can everyone stand back, please. I want to get down. You can all poke about and look at it when I leave.” The ghouls politely, and in some cases reluctantly, stepped back as I shut down the OSDef. The desk shuddered ominously as it tried to lower. With a metal shriek, it collapsed on one side, throwing me loose. Fortunately I landed on something soft. That something being Tumbleweed.
The desk collapsed and half sank into the floor, before finally combusting as electrical circuits fried and sparked dangerously. I stared in horror as the fire suppression system kicked in, blasting the ruined desk with chemical foam. Why couldn't I ever have nice things?
“See, I told them putting dual guns would be structurally unsafe!” One Eye declared triumphantly, whilst several of the other ghouls groaned and facehooved.
“Don’t worry young Elder, we can rebuild it...WITH SCIENCE!” Sprocket declared, whilst striking a dramatic pose. “But first, we need to let the maintenance teams do some structural repairs. Everyone please evacuate, remember to take the stairs!” A hidden floor panel popped open after being struck, exposing a tunnel at the end of a set of stairs.
“Why wasn't this on the map!” I asked, as we all began marching in pairs down the dark stairway.
“It’s a secret tunnel. Only the Overstallion was supposed to know about it, but obviously the maintenance ponies would know too. They did build it after all.” Tumbleweed explained helpfully. We trotted through the tunnel which became illuminated by a series of dim orange lights, not all of which turned on. We eventually arrived at the stable door, the entrance to the hidden tunnel cleverly hidden under a floor panel. We emerged to find Crosshair sitting by the stable door, simply watching us in mild amusement.
“Which one of you broke the elevator?” He asked cheerfully.
“Are you sure this is the same power armor?” Crosshair asked, failing to mask his awe at my fully repaired set. The protective plating gleamed, polished and buffed excessively after it had been hammered back into the correct shape and size. The pistons were practically silent in the legs when I tried bucking the air experimentally. The actuators ran in near perfect harmony, making it so much easier to move around in.
“Where did you learn to do this?” Mustang asked one of the ghoul mares who were thankfully not clinging to him anymore. Or sticking their tongues down his throat. I tried not to remember that with a badly contained shudder.
“Two hundred years is a long time, we liked to trade skills and teach each other new things to pass the time.” She explained happily.
“Did anyone learn cybernetics?” I asked, whilst attaching my armored saddlebags.
“Doctor Agon was selfish and kept those skills to himself.” Sprocket practically growled. I decided it would probably be best to avoid mentioning Agon, unless I wanted to keep listening to Sprockets rather aggressive rants.
“Here’s the last of your stuff. We’ve repaired it and in some cases, improved it where we can.” Beaker explained, pushing our equipment into the stable door area on a heavy equipment trolley. He handed me my shotgun and missile launcher with ease, before assisting in reattaching the missile launcher to my battle-saddle.
“How did you get my rifle?” Crosshair asked, whilst he held the weapon experimentally.
“We picked the lock on your door, stepped over the tripwire you set up, and eased it out of your hooves with telekinesis. We barely caught that bucket of water you rigged to fall on yourself if anyone touched your gun.” One Eye explained, barely hiding his annoyance.
“You could have just asked for it.” Crosshair explained, smirking at the ghoul’s expression.
“We thought you’d insist on observing us. It’s hard for us to work calmly when people are looking over our shoulders.” The one eyed ghoul elaborated. I finished properly attaching all my equipment, I examined my two rangers and waited for Mustang to put on Hailstorm and his saddlebags.
“Alright everyone, we’re heading out. We’ll hopefully be back in a few days.” I stood stoically by the stable door, waiting patiently for Mustang and Crosshair to finish their preparations.
“Excuse me Elder, you forgot your helmet.” Sprocket said, holding up my gleaming helmet. I took it and held it to the side in my magic. Brushing my mane aside with a hoof, everyone suddenly gasped.
“What, what? Is there something on my head? Is my horn okay?!” I asked, starting to panic. “Get it off! Help!”
“Was your horn always that long?” Crosshair asked. “It’s just always been kind of hard to tell with your mane being in the way all the time.” My horn was fine, perfectly normal by unicorn standards. Everypony was just overreacting.
“My horn is perfectly shaped,” I retorted, taking a look up at it. “And not in anyway abnormally loooooOOOH CELESTIA!” When did this happen? My horn was definitely not this big a day or two ago! Maybe all the radiation... SLICER! That pony pretending to be a doctor did something to me, I just knew it! Looking around, I noticed a lot of enamored eyes checking me out. Taking a moment to think it over, the ramifications finally hit me. Suddenly I wasn't so sure how Slicer’s personal standings with me were. “It’s okay everypony, common occurrence in my family.” I lied casually, thinking quickly. I then waved a hoof in a placating manner and struck a pose. “Usually doesn't take this long to kick in is all. Just caught me by surprise.”
“I don’t think that’s how genetics work...” Mustang began uncertainly.
“Nonsense, I remember my cousin Gilded Ribbons going through a similar growth spurt. Her parents were surprised when she came back from college.” Sprocket stated cheerfully. “Biggest horn I ever saw on a mare. Oh the accidents that used to cause. I remember this one time when she got stuck on the door frame. It made her prime close quarters soldier material though.”
Saved by the ghoul and his bizarre family. I took the moment to let a wave of calm descend upon us to try on my helmet. It was a tight fit. Had my face gotten chubbier? And it nipped against my horn just a little, but eventually I got the helmet to sit comfortably.
“Test! Test!” I said, experimenting with the now more badass voice amplifier. I could feel the reverberation of the echo, even through my armor. Everyone in the room was cringing, holding hooves or assorted limbs over their ears. “Sorry!” I accidentally boomed again. Turning down the setting with my lip, I tried again. “Is this better?”
“Much better. Fortunately, not nearly as bad as the Royal Canterlot Voice of course.” Tumbleweed remarked, patting his fleshy ears.
“Before you deafen us further, don’t forget to take this.” Beaker said, passing me a thick sheaf of paper, barely held together by a tiny staple that was straining, its limits nearly reached. I scanned the contents of the first page, and just to confirm what my eyes were seeing, I read it again.
“What is this?” I asked, with a foreboding sense of dread.
“It’s a shopping list of course.” Beaker explained. After a moment of just staring at him, he continued on. “You know, a list of items you should pick up while you’re out of the Stable...?”
“Where am I supposed to find a dozen intact spark batteries? A tesla coil? The last group of Steel Rangers I was with only found one, and it was the first one we’d salvaged in over forty years!”
Beaker had the decency to at least look a little embarrassed.
“We’re scientists, we need certain scientific instruments and components to conduct new experiments!” Sprocket whined. “We can’t just make new things out of random scrap metal! There is a process to this. We’re finally going to be finishing off all of our old experiments, and we need to start new ones. Oh yes, that reminds me...” The ghoul fished inside a tiny saddlebag he was wearing and pulled out a cigar box, which he then hoofed over to me.
“Er, thanks? I don’t smoke though.” I said politely, trying to offer it back.
“It doesn't have cigars in it, it’s got some nasty ammunition for that shotgun of yours. I got the idea to give them to you, after looking at those unstable explosive rounds. Never would have considered using grenade machinegun ammunition to make shotgun shells. It’s so... so... AUDACIOUS! Just like real science!” Sprocket exposited excitedly, unable to stop gesticulating and pacing wildly.
“Okay, okay. I get the shells, but why a cigar box?”
“Oh, I need you to pick up some smokes while you’re out. I ran out about ten years ago and I’m getting desperate. It’s on the list.” I facehoofed, the hard rubber pad making a dull clunk against my helmet.
“Fear not noble scientists, we shall do our best to find the items on this list.” Mustang snatched the paper from me with his magic and began reading it. After a moment, he looked up from it. “Where would we even start looking for a working cloud generator?” Mustang asked, unable to hide his bewilderment.
“You can find one of those in the old Wintertrot Snowtrooper training grounds.” One of Mustang’s admirers added helpfully.
“No.” Crosshair stated firmly, whilst finishing adjusting his reconnaissance barding. “That’s right across Wintertrot, if we were to go there as well, we probably wouldn't be back for at least two weeks.”
“Sorry folks, we can’t go there right away.” I told the disappointed ghouls. “But we’ll definitely try and acquire some of the more... luxurious food items on the list.” That seemed to please the scientists. I noted that both my companions were ready to depart, Mustang tucking the ‘shopping’ list into his saddlebags.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can, please don’t blow up the stable.” We walked out the the stable, giving the small crowd a wave as we passed by. “And don’t leave the door unlocked and unguarded while we’re gone.” I added hastily. As we trotted out into the dimly lit tunnels, the stable entrance screeched shut.
“Celestia, damn it.” I said, suddenly stopping. Looking back at the stable door, I couldn't help but let out a sigh. “I forgot to ask for caps.”
“Cocknoodles, I knew it wouldn't be that easy.” I said.
We had found our path blocked by another wall of ice, only this block was so thick that the passage on the other side was completely obscured. We had decided to try and make the first part of the trip by travelling underground. Unfortunately, there were only three tunnels going in the direction we needed to go and we’d already tried those. The first had been blocked by a ceiling collapse and the other was full of far too many Wintertrot ghouls. Crosshair tried the service doors on the side of the tunnel experimentally, before looking back at us and shaking his head.
“It’s no use Elder, the lock is frozen shut.” The lock tinkled softly as he tapped it for emphasis. “We’re going to have to travel on the streets again.”
I wasn't fond of the idea, but it was our only choice. With a resigned sigh, I nodded and began backtracking to the last ponyhole cover we had passed. It didn't take long to find it, we just had to hope it wasn't buried too deeply under the snow above. I climbed the ladder, intending to be the first one out, especially since I had a helmet and so getting hit was less of a worry for me. The ponyhole cover groaned and held firm for a short moment, before it slackened and slid upwards, showering me in a torrent of snow and ice.
I pushed the ponyhole cover aside, and poked my head out into the street. The snow was falling lightly in thick clumps, meaning I had an excellent view. My helmet’s E.F.S was full functional and wasn't detecting anything hostile in our immediate vicinity.
“It’s clear, come on up.” I said, climbing the rest of the way up and trying to figure out where we were. Crosshair emerged from the tunnels whilst I spotted a rusted street sign and brushed the snow off. “It say’s we’re at-”
“Crystal Street,” Crosshair said without looking and finishing my sentence, to my ire. “We’re on the right path Elder. we’ll need to be quiet though. Crystal Street leads to Crystal Road and from there to the Rockbiter District where the mines are located.”
“You know all that just from looking around?” Mustang asked as he squeezed his muscular form out of the ponyhole.
“No, I lived here. I know these streets like the back of my own hooves.” Crosshair elaborated. “I’ll lead if that’s fine with you Elder?”
“Quick, how many stripes are their on your first leg joint?” I asked.
“What?” Crosshair asked.
“Just seeing how well you actually know the back of your hoof. Not a very promising start” I said teasingly. Crosshair scowled slightly whilst Mustang and I shared a short snicker at him.
“Okay, okay, all joking aside. Please lead the way Knight Crosshair.” I ordered, whilst trotting up to Mustang and walking alongside him. The snow continued to fall, growing heavier at a slow yet steady rate. Twice we stopped when he heard a great roar in the distance, but both times I wasn't able to spot any targets. We did see a mini-avalanche of snow come cascading down an apartment block, however.
The quiet and lack of targets on my EFS was making me jumpy, not helped by the distant rumblings of what I hoped was falling snow. The crunch of the snow below our hooves and the otherwise pervading silence was finally broken when Crosshair forced us to stop.
“What is it Crosshair? Do you see someone?” Mustang asked, I looked around carefully but my EFS wasn't detecting any kind of threat.
“Right there, look!” Crosshair was pointing at a patch of snow ahead of us, where the butt of a rifle was sticking out. I tried to approach it, but Crosshair held out a hoof, shaking his head. “It’s a trap Elder. You can tell by how the snow is displaced.” I stared at the snow coated ground, but I honestly couldn't see anything wrong with it. I cocked my head at my striped companion who promptly facehoofed.
“I’m not seeing the problem Crosshair, can you lead us around it?” I asked.
“We can’t use another route, whoever laid this trap must have anticipated that. No we’re going to go through it.” Crosshair paused for a moment before quickly mumbling under his breath. Turning my helmet more directly towards him, I was able to pick out the Zebracin word for minefield.
“What! A minefield? Why didn't you just say so?” I asked.
Suddenly stopping his quite rant, he looked up at me. “You speak Zebrican Elder? You, um... didn't happen to hear anything else I said in Zebrican? Did you?” Crosshair inquired, though I could tell by his eyes, that he was genuinely nervous.
“Not all of it. But I know enough Zebrican to get a gist of what you were saying.” I said, not easing his fear a single bit. “So how about you lead us through the minefield?”
“But, but you have the Power Armor? You should lead.” Crosshair argued, gesturing at me.
“I can’t see or detect the mines, you’re the only one who can… right?” I turned to Mustang who had been staying quiet.
“I am afraid not Elder, alas if only I had the eyes and skills of our First Knight. I would boldly lead us across this hazardous ground.” So that was a no then. Cocknoodles.
“Fine, I’ll lead the way Elder. But DO NOT! I Repeat, DO NOT! stray from the path I walk. We don’t have enough healing potions to reattach a dismembered leg.” Crosshair said ominously, before walking to the edge of the hidden minefield. He walked left and right for a minute or two, likely trying to figure out the best path. I spent this free moment going over some more of the ridiculous shopping list items.
* Two quarts of I.M.P * The barrel of a bazooka * Pinkie Pie’s pound cake mix
Before I could fully contemplate the ridiculousness of looking for cake mix, Crosshair was calling out to us.
“Come on Elder, follow the guideline I've made, before the snow swallows it up!” Crosshair called out cheerily, already ten feet deep into the minefield already.
“Over here Elder!” Mustang waved to me, I galloped over and saw Crosshair had made a path of carefully laid out hoofprints, that gave us a slowly evaporating path to follow. I glanced at Mustang and noted his horrible lack of proper leg protection, he’d definitely lose a limb if he wasn't careful. He couldn't just run away from a mine if it was activated.
“I’ll take the lead Mustang. Just stick close to me… but not too close.”
Mustang nodded, moving aside as I took the first tentative step into the minefield. I sighed in relief when I didn't immediately explode and took another cautious step and another. We followed the winding path carefully, treading in Crosshair’s hoofprints.
“Please hurry Elder! You can’t keep tiphoofing along. The snowfall is becoming a blizzard, the path will be gone soon.” The snow was indeed getting heavier, the winding trail Crosshair had laid out was slowly vanishing. I picked up the pace, attempting to walk more quickly while trying to stick to the path. We finally emerged on the other side of the path, Crosshair sighing in relief as we exited the minefield.
“And you were worried we wouldn't make it.” I said, walking towards Crosshair.
*BEEP!*
“Cocknoodles.” I cursed, glancing down at the solitary mine. Crosshair facehoofed hard, groaning. The mine exploded, sending me staggering backwards and landing rump first on another mine, which promptly exploded. This one sent me cartwheeling towards Crosshair. Luckily, the zebra was quick on his hooves, sidestepping so fast there seemed to be two of him, as I dug a deep furrow in the snow.
“It seems everything blows up around me since meeting you, Elder.” Crosshair noted distantly as I groggily pulled my head out of the snow. “That noise will likely attract trouble, I suggest moving, now.” Crosshair urged, in that same tiny voice, helping me to my hooves.
“Too late.” Mustang proclaimed, the wind blowing through his beard as he aimed a hoof behind me. I gazed at him in confusion, trying to decide if he was being dramatic or urgent as I slowly swung my head around, I couldn't help but pause as Mustang seemed to shimmer, his features looking oddly feminine for a moment before it flickered back. Deciding it was probably some sort of snow mirage, I turned my head laboriously and saw Mustang was pointing at three, no, six... nine Super Stallions.
I noticed why the mutant ponies hadn't immediately charged. Three of them, wearing shiny masks, were barking orders at the others, forcing them to go around the minefield.
“They’re sending for backup.” Crosshair said, watching the mutant ponies through his rifle’s scope. “I Can’t get a clear shot in all this snow, we should retreat Elder.” Crosshair added, holstering his rifle.
“Alright Rangers, move out, keep sprinting and we should be able to outrun them before they get around the mines.” I tried to say. Instead I only managed to slur out some muffled mumbles. My head was spinning, and my hooves felt like lead weights as I tried to straighten out and focus on Crosshair or Mustang. I turned my attention to what I presumed was Crosshair who now looked like a striped blur next to the big green-blue I presumed was Mustang.
“Elder!” Crosshair squeaked at me, causing me to giggle at the ridiculousness.
Pinging sounds rang in my ears, like the patter of heavy rain, drowning out Crosshair’s frantic squeaking. “Guys! Hey guys, what’s that noise?” I slurred as loud as I could, half-shouting over the pinging sounds in my ears. I suddenly fell over as a loud roar seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. When it passed, I tried to stagger back to my hooves.
“He’s dazed, grab him.” Crosshair squealed. Then there were suddenly three Mustangs running at me and hurling me onto one of their backs with their heads.
“Hold on Elder!” Mustang boomed, directly into my ears.
“No need to yell!” I yelled, covering my ears, making my helmet clang as my metal hooves slammed into it. “Rude!”
Mustang snorted, running headlong down the street, as bright yellow lights whizzed past. The lights starting to move slower and slower, colliding like tiny stars against the surrounding area. I watched Crosshair shoot some flaming stars, one flying close to me, so I could actually see it wasn't a star, but a heat streaked bullet. A .308 T.I.T model, the tiny logo staring out at me boldly as it collided with a Western Equestrian Armaments 5mm minigun slug. The Two bullets slammed against one another in mid air, glowing red hot as they impacted, fusing together like a set of lovers, joined together for the rest of eternity. As they flash welded to each other, their intricate forces and emotions of physics blazed as hotly as a new sun forming before my eyes. A splash of sparks, too bright, etched new and wonderful designs upon each other, marking the other as it’s special somebullets. I felt only envy as their mutual destruction flicked the excess shards of themselves outwards, perfectly imperfect tiny baby bullets to patter in the snow and ice and concrete surrounding us.
Of course, right about then everything was ruined as I had a startling clear moment of clarity and I finally realised how cripplingly injured my head must actually be. A muffled screech like the cry of a balefire phoenix filled my ears as a missile soared above us, slamming into a building, causing spidering cracks to form and a cascading avalanche of ice and snow. Mustang spotted it and pulled Crosshair back as the path we were about to take was blocked off. The roar of falling snow and ice filled my ears, drowning out all the others as Mustang turned us in another direction.
“Need potion.” I mumbled, shaking my head to try and clear away the dizziness. Everything starting to speed up frighteningly around me, a dull ringing filling my ears as Mustang barreled through some old rubbish, which Crosshair set alight with his rifle. This didn’t deter our pursuers as it actually seemed to encourage them, a metal covered super stallion rushing through the debris, flaming debris clinging to his skin and armor as he chased us, laughing maniacally.
“I got this one guys.” I said, dipping into my saddlebag and pulling out two explosive shells, my head oddly clear as I loaded my shotgun. I looked up seeing the mutie was even closer, I smiled as I aimed perfectly, firing with a pleasing Crack-thoom! I watched in utter ecstasy as an alleyway door we had just passed burst open, revealing a howling Snowhound. Time slowed down enough for me to perceive the perfect moment of confused rage of the beast, it only having the barest slice of a second to realise it was screwed, before the miniature rocket grenade penetrated it’s forehead and its head exploded in a glorious plume of orange and red flames.
“I got one guys!” I declared proudly. As the door flew at us and into the chest of our closest attacker. “Make that two!” I laughed giddily, nearly falling off as the door slammed at Mustang's rear legs, barely avoiding a nasty friendship killing, via severed leg.
“It’s a dead end!” Crosshair wailed, valiantly trying to kick in a ice coated door. Mustang turned around, giving me an excellent view of the soon to be battlefield. Six Super Stallions were advancing, flames flickering behind them from the now burning building where the Snowhound emerged.
“They may have twice our number!” I yelled valiantly. “But we have twice their courage! And somewhere around at least 250% more brainpower as well!” I lifted myself bodily up Mustang’s solid back, placing my left forehoof upon the top of his head, and raised my drill at the advancing enemy. “Now take me closer, Mustang~!” I yelled. “I want to hit them with my drill!” Mustang glanced over at Crosshair seemingly unsure. “DID I STUTTER!” I yelled, banging my rubber soled hoof on his head as he stood there, unmoving.
Mustang grinned up at me, baring his teeth as he charged forward. I fell down from the precarious position I had been in, and suddenly Hailstorm roared to life beside me. The mutants grew closer, their green and horribly stretched faces set in eager grins or bellowing as loudly as possible. We rode close, my slick grip on Mustang’s wet neck causing me to gradually slip. I tried to cling on desperately, ultimately failing as I fell from his back, Magi-drill screaming on full throttle.
I landed hard, rolling due to my momentum and colliding with a Super Stallion, bowling it off its legs. I slid to a halt on my back, looking up into the armored face of a Super Stallion who I could tell was grinning as he raised a thick hoof. I raised my hooves to protect my face, the mutant pony screaming as his own hoof was shredded by the still whining hoof-mounted drill. Pieces of shrapnel, bone and flesh coated my face, tinting my vision red as the mutant pony collapsed on top of me.
“Tinpony take leg! Tinpony Die!” The Mutant screamed, trying to bite my helmet off. I tried to push off the heavy pony, the servos in my legs whining, but the mutie proved too strong. In a panic, I reached out with my telekinesis and quickly rammed my shotgun into the frenzied mutant’s nostril and pulled the trigger. The head vanished it a flash of white as the explosion blinded me and temporarily frazzled my helmet’s visual sensor suite.
My audio receptors continued to function perfectly fine however, allowing me to listen in to the fighting around me as I tried pushing the corpse off of myself.
“BURNING!” I could hear one mutant cry as he thudded in the snow close by, no doubt trying to roll in it and douse the flames. Mustang’s minigun never stopped firing, adding a loud whining roar to the battle going on around me as I finally pushed the beheaded super stallion off of me. I clanged my helmet, the tried and tested method of field repairers everywhere coming through for me as my vision finally returned.
“Did you guys see that?!” I asked, looking around and finding nobody around me but two mutant corpses. “OH COME ON!” I shouted as Mustang and Crosshair returned. “Did you guys see any of that?” I asked.
“Elder, your voice is coming out muffled.” Crosshair said, no longer sounding squeaky. I would miss that squeaky voice.
Slamming my hoof to my helmet one more time, I shook off the blurry feeling in my head. “I worried what would break first.” I explained, my voice taking on a deeper tone. “My Helmet or my head...” Pausing for a second, I tried to process how I sounded from the echo. I noticed my breathing was now very audible as well.
Both Mustang and Crosshair stared at me, eyes as wide as dinner plates and their coats standing on end.
“That was.... really creepy sounding, wasn't it...” I said. They nodded and I struggled with the clasps on the helmet.
Crosshair was suddenly next to me, looking like he wanted to help. “If I take your helmet off, will you die?”
“It would be extremely painful...”
“You’re a big Elder.” He quipped.
“For you...” I returned, getting a raised eyebrow. “The suit has… preventative measures, the ghouls added in for me. Specifically a very, very nasty shock.” I elaborated.
“Well it’s not too intimidating... you just sound a bit like a movie villain I once saw.” Mustang explained, chuckling a bit. “That was quite a battle there Elder, how did you see that snowhound before it opened the door?
“Aaaah, the Snowhounds think darkness is their ally... they merely adopted the dark... I was born in it. Molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was nearly a stallion, and let me tell you, it was briiiight as cocknoodles...~!”
“I think he hit his head harder than we thought.” Crosshair said, shaking his head at me. “Shame you can’t get the helmet off, I would've let you use some Med-X to dull the pain.”
Immediately I redoubled my efforts, hooves scrambling ineffectively against the locking mechanisms, earning a small chuckle from Crosshair.
“In any case, perhaps we should move on?” Mustang suggested. “As soon as we loot the bodies.” The three of us split off, examining the equipment on the corpses. The weapons were in surprisingly good condition, definitely worn down a bit by the weather though. I picked up a super-sledge, swinging it like a colt with a baseball bat.
“Why is there a gnome in here?” Crosshair said aloud as he rooted through a pack, a pile of knick knacks and random loot piling up behind him. “I mean, I can understand these ammo boxes, but brushable unicorns and an alicorn figurine?” My ears peeked at the mention of an alicorn, I looked over at Crosshair’s hooves, seeing the black figurine. The super-sledge dropped into the snow as I trotted over, breathing more slowly and exaggerated as a strange sense of excitement creeped up on me.
Crosshair gave me a wary look, stepping back a bit. “Elder, what are you doing...?” He asked, fumbling in the mutie’s saddlebag as he tried to pull out his hoof.
“Can I see that... please?” I said, grabbing it with my magic without invitation. The figure floated in front of me, a lithe, black, female alicorn. She was in a lunging stance, wings splayed wide, eyes slanted and aggressive. The base read ‘Be Scary’. It was intimidating. Feral.
Also, very hot.
I would have bucked this alicorn until the end of days. I felt a tear slip out. “And maybe I was the one to adopt the Darkness all along...” I took a ragged breath, the noise echoing around us.
“Are you okay, Elder...?” Mustang asked from over my shoulder.
“Perfectly fine... just fine indeed…” I suddenly started laughing, raising the doll above my head. Crosshair and Mustang started to back away as my laughter became a manic cackle. Then I fainted.
Item Perk Added: Intimidating Presence - In some conversations, you gain the ability to initiate combat while terrifying a mob of opponents, sending them fleeing away for safety or attacking you in fear of their lives.
Crosshair: Level 4
Perk Added: Diversionary Tactics - You've learned a number of tricks and tactics that can slow down your enemies and keep them occupied. Setting fires, collapsing buildings, just remember, each type only works for certain enemies.
Mustang: Level 4
Perk Added: Strong Back - Your strong back allows you to carry an extra 50 lbs of weight and not even notice. Of course, you will, but that isn't the point. Free weight, amirite?
I awoke to the soft crackling of a fire, the burning wood popping and snapping close by. Despite the fire crackling away close by, my body felt incredibly cold. I shuffled closer to the heat, my body scraping over a hard stone floor. There was a noise as my horn poked into something soft and warm. I reached out blindly, my hooves grabbing a warm fuzzy pillow which I pulled my head against. I snuggled my mysterious cushiony headrest, sighing in contentment. As my pillow shifted, trying to escape, I couldn’t help but cling more tightly and grunt in annoyance.
“Uhm... Inkwell?” My eyes opened, as I looked up slowly to the source of the voice. Mustang was looking down at me, an awkward expression on his face as I gripped his right hind leg. I could feel heat creep onto my face as Mustang tried and failed not to blush. I pulled back a little to note that there may have been an area of drool on him. But only a little, I swear.
“You’re horn is... jabbing into me.” He said pointedly, pushing me back a bit.
I sat up quickly, face nearly on fire. “Let us never speak of this...” I said quickly, thankful that Crosshair hadn’t seen that embarrassing display. “Ever.”
After taking a moment to try and settle my thoughts, I began rubbing my legs together for warmth and took a look at my surroundings. We were in a large warehouse of some kind, the shelves had been looted quite thoroughly, but I could still see a few sealed metallic crates, secured with thick rivets. I stood up properly, shaking out my mane and decided to investigate the crates for anything useful. I trotted up to the biggest box I could see, looking for some way to open it. Several dents and scratch marks scarred the metal container, obviously previous looters had been unsuccessful.
“Mustang, where’s my drill and power armor?!” I half-shouted at him.
“Elder, keep your voice down!” He said in alarm, trotting over to me.
“Where’s my drill? And my armor, and... all my things actually.” I asked, before adding. “And why are we not supposed to shout?”
“I loaned your equipment to Knight Crosshair of course, you were unconscious and too heavy to carry, while wearing it over a long distance. So we decided to have Crosshair wear the armor for... tactical reasons.” He mumbled the last few words, looking annoyed? Upset? I wasn’t sure yet, but I intended to ask him about it later. “We also need to keep quiet around here Elder, there are Hoofbiter nests in this part of Wintertrot, according to Crosshair.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, and glanced down at my hooves warily. “Why are they called Hoofbiters?” I asked, while making the tactical decision to climb atop the steel crate.
“Because that’s the first thing they bite, then they eat the rest of the pony.” Mustang said, clamping his teeth together for emphasis. “They’re supposed to tunnel under the snow, but Crosshair claims they can burst through concrete and mortar if it’s thin enough.” He further explained, tapping the floor lightly.
“I don’t suppose we could sleep upstairs?” I asked quickly, looking around for any stairwells or ladders promising safety.
“Unfortunately no...A lot of the rooms upstairs have collapsed or have openings, exposing them to the snow and frost outside. Crosshair is searching a few of the ground level rooms, hopefully he can scrounge up enough fabric to make a tepee.” I stared blankly at Mustang for a moment, before he quickly clarified. “Like a tent, Elder, but more pointed on the top...” He made a few hoof gestures, complicating the entire situation even more.
“Maybe we can make a start on the shelter with some of these boxes?” I suggested, hopping off the crate and trying to levitate it. The box glowed with my magic but was to heavy for me to budge.
“Perhaps we could use those boxes over there?” Mustang said, pointing to the shelves of boxes and containers. I nodded in agreement, smiling gratefully as we trotted over to the shelves. Most of the boxes were empty, but a few had stickers on them with faded addresses stamped on, with black ink. I couldn’t make out most of the words, the ink had started running off the labels long ago.
“Where are we Mustang?” I asked, opening one box that was full of sock puppets. Oddly enough, they were addressed to Stable-Tec.
“We’re in a warehouse, where letters and packages were stored before being shipped out. It wasn’t our ideal resting spot Elder, but we had been walking for four hours.” They’d been carrying me around in the cold for that long?
“So I’ve been asleep for four hours?” I asked, trying on one of the sock puppets for my amusement. It was one of the stable-colt, stable-tec’s friendly mascot.
“More like seven hours, you’ve been sleeping quite heavily Elder. You resisted our best efforts to wake you, including that ice cube Crosshair-” He stopped mid-sentence, snickering to himself. I glanced back at him, eyebrows raised.
“What did Crosshair do?” I asked suspiciously. Mustang looked ready to answer, recovering from his snickering, when a door banged open, my power armor walked in. I forgot my question immediately, hobbling forward. Crosshair saw me easily, pulling off my helmet, rubbing his forehead where my horn would stick out.
“Ah Elder, you’re awake at last. Did something sneak in and wake you, while my back was turned?” Crosshair asked, handing me my own helmet.
“There was an incident.” I said earnestly, putting on the helmet. I started checking the settings, which Crosshair had -of course- ruined in his inexperience. “What did you do to my helmet? All the settings are wrong. Why is the EFS off, did it break again?” I asked, turning it back on.
“No Elder, I merely found the dots distracting. Ugh... I can still see them, even without the helmet.” He said, rubbing his eyes. “And how do you move in such heavy armor? My muscles are burning!” He further complained. “And it’s too tight in certain areas, I had to take off the armor and-”
“Okay, okay. I understand Crosshair.” I said in my best soothing tone after taking the helmet off again. “You just need some practice, you’re probably fighting the armor, rather than working with it.” I looked at his slumped shoulders and sweat-coated face. “You need to use less effort and let the armor do the work, come on, lets find a spot for you to practice.” I said encouragingly, patting him on the shoulder pauldron.
“I would rather not Elder, this armor makes me feel-” I cut him off, remembering how my own drill instructor had reacted when I tried to worm out of practice
“Knight Crosshair, you are in the Steel Rangers now! Regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you feel, we do have to use and acquire technology!” I said, jabbing him on his armored chest. “Even things we don’t like!”
“Understood, Elder.” Crosshair sulkily.
We moved back towards the little camp fire, which had begun to burn low. Mustang fed the flames with some ruined books that burned slowly, before going through his saddlebags with the excuse of cooking some dinner. I didn’t argue, my stomach growled audibly as I started teaching Crosshair to walk in his armor, pointing out when he wasn’t using enough of too much force.
“Your right hind leg is dragging, more power in that leg.” Confession time, I was never actually taught how to use power armor. In fact, I’m wholly self taught. You see since I was a unicorn, who didn’t show combat aptitude, I got scribe training. However, I helped maintain power armor, so I knew how it worked. I was able to listen in on lessons, by taking extra long to repair air filters or on one notable occasion, actually repairing the demonstration suit of power armor. Now I brought u those lessons, slowly working through basic movement and traction exercises. I used my horn to adjust the leg armature when needed, Crosshair testing his leg each time I made a change, commenting on how it felt as we gradually got it to move easier.
“You’re getting the hang of it, now lets try trotting. You’ll find it’s easier to run now, see?” I said, watching Crosshair quickly making circles around us, his armored hooves hammering heavily, becoming notably softer as he continued to do laps and become adjusted to letting the power armor do so much of the work.
I was about to suggest Crosshair wear the helmet as well, when a warm, sweet smell filled the air. Mustang was levitating three separate cans over the fire in his green magical field. He was rotating them slowly, and my stomach groaned audibly as another waft of the delicious aroma passed me by.
“Let’s take a break, Crosshair. You must be hungry, carrying me around all day.” I joked, trotting back to the fire and sitting down, Mustang hovering a tin labelled ‘CRAM!’ over to me.
“What is cram?” I asked, perplexed by the oily pink gel that looked suspiciously like processed meat. “With a name like that I half expected this to be some sort of marital aid.” After looking at it for a moment longer I glanced worriedly at Mustang. “And I’m still not sure having even seen it.”
Sticking a sporkful into his mouth, Mustang hummed with appreciation.
“It’s Cram, Elder.” Crosshair said, turning his nose away. “Dog food.”
I recoiled from the admittedly good smelling pet food. Noticing my disgusted face, Mustang quickly expounded. “Not that kind of dog. It’s a nutritious meaty food... for diamond dogs. Lots of them lived here during the war, you know.”
Sighing, I levitated the plastic fork Mustang handed me with my tin, forcing some of the meaty substance into my mouth.
“This is pretty good.” I said, surprising myself, chowing down on the war-era meat. “We should have this more often.” Crosshair shuddered, pushing his can over to me.
“I can’t stomach that stuff.” He said, looking a little green.
“Says the zebra who was eating crackers with toothpaste.” I retorted, stealing his can of meaty goodness. Crosshair huffed, opening his saddlebag. I tried hard not to laugh when he pulled out some crackers and toothpaste.
At least this time, he used decidedly smaller portions that before.
We finished eating quickly, Crosshair taking a power nap while Mustang volunteered for guard duty. I let him take it, and spent some time examining my power armor. The minor damages it had taken were automagically fixed when it received scrap metal in the little port on the armor’s flank. I put the armor back on, noticing some hitches in the servos already. Either way, I was glad to be wearing it again.
I decided to take a quick rummage through the warehouse we were in.
The other rooms contained loading bays and further storage spaces. I made my way up an old disused stairway, my hooves crunching loudly on some old skeletons. I bent down after noticing a small glimmer in the remains, an employee tag from the looks of it. I took it with me, figuring it could be useful. I continued upstairs, entering a large office with two rows of desks. The desktops were strewn with old papers, and office supplies, leaving them in a state of disarray. I sifted through some of the closed desk drawers, adding some bottlecaps and a frozen solid sparkle-cola to my saddlebag.
I proceeded to the back of the offices were a set of double doors remained locked. I turned around and bucked the door. The wood splintering with surprising ease, I spun around, finding a dusty office. I walked in cautiously, small clouds of dust rising from the carpet as I looked around the office. The desk was neatly organised and no skeletons were littering the floor, suggesting whoever worked here had been absent when the megaspells hit. I opened the drawers of the desk, finding an ice cold bottle of wild pegasus whiskey and a small lockbox. Curious, I lifted the flat lockbox onto the desk, revealing a tiny key was necessary to open it. I slid the case into my saddlebag, along with the whiskey, not confident I could break open the box without destroying its contents.
While storing away the desk’s contents, I noticed a small button. I almost didn’t see it, and would have missed it, had a glimmer of light not caught my eye on its reflective surface. I glanced around, looking for any obvious traps, like roof mounted turrets or panels hiding security bots. Satisfied nothing was going to pop out to kill me, I reached out an armored hoof and hovered over the button. My curiosity grew as I knew I had to push the button, excitement building as I lowered my hoof down slowly and mashed it. There was a soft click and then... nothing. Just nothing.
My ears drooped in disappointment and I huffed, stalking out of the office. Who puts a pointless button on a desk anyway?
I took my mind off of the button by examining a small radio that had fallen to the floor some time ago. I gave it the customary wasteland test of functionality, i.e, shaking it up and down and seeing if it rattled. To my immense pleasure, the radio didn't jingle and jangle. I placed the old radio on a desk, fiddling with the little dials and tapping it on the side. The radio sprang to life, it’s faceplate lighting up as it began blaring static.
I turned down the volume, and scrolled through radio signals, before getting lucky and finding a functional radio station.
“Good morning friends! This is Snowflake Studio Radio Station, with your host DJ Frost Tongue. Bringing you the latest news in this icebox of a city.” The rough yet invigorating voice of the DJ announced. “Now friends, Ol’ Frost Tongue’s got some very interesting news for you all. Seems like the Lost Legion have made a tactical withdrawal from Wintertrot, though don’t count on them staying gone friends. I reckon they’re just biding their time until the Super Stallions or Snow Pirates have wiped out one another or are too weak to oppose them.” This was new and troubling information. Now I had to worry about three major factions; I made a mental note to ask my two partners about this Lost Legion.
“Currently the Super Stallions and Snow Pirates are content to fight close to the Rockbiter district and Merchant districts. Anyone in those areas should look into fortifying their homes or moving somewhere safer.” Frost Tongue paused, clearing his throat loudly, before speaking again. “Also, we’ve got reports of a pony in thick metal armor travelling with a zebra-” My ears perked at that, I grabbed the radio, turning it up as I dashed back downstairs, skidding along the floor before bursting into the store room with our base camp. Mustang looked up in alarm, lowering Hailstorm when he saw me.
“Elder, what seems to be the prob-” I cut him off, turning up the radio in my telekinetic grasp.
“So if you see this armored pony and his travelling buddies, buy them a beer for me. Now for some music...” Frost Tongue finished, a heavy beat beginning to play.
“Someone’s been watching us and reporting our actions.” I said, dropping the radio, causing it to play louder as I paced back and forth worryingly. “Probably started back in Snowridge, this Frost Tongue guy probably-” I was cut off by a low rumble, Crosshair springing to his hooves with a panicked yelp.
“What are you doing?!” Crosshair shouted, leaping on the radio and trying to turn it off, the little dial having been knocked off when I dropped it. Crosshair lifted the radio over his head and threw it to the ground where it hit with a dull thump, blaring even louder. “Oh stars, we’re dead. Quick, grab the guns!” Crosshair shouted, slinging his rifle onto his back.
Mustang, securing Hailstorm, following Crosshair as he dashed across the room. I followed, the rumbling getting even louder, a small fissure forming up one wall and the cement cracking as it went to our abandoned campsite. Mustang had the forethought to grab our supplies with his telekinesis. We crouched behind some shelves, using some boxes to hide ourselves.
The ground continued to crack as something large moved underground. I glanced at Crosshair, whispering softly. “What is that thing?”
“‘Those’, Elder... they’re hoofbiters. They’re attracted to heat and loud noises, which our camp site now has in abundance.” He whispered harshly. A kettle began whining loudly, left on the fire by Mustang. The wailing went pretty well with the warbling music, actually.
Suddenly, the floor cracked with a horrible crunching sound which was muffled by a plethora of loud screeching voices. Five long icy blue horns punched through the cement like water, moving much like a shark fins towards the camp fire. The curved horns were only the tip of the monsters, their large reptilian heads smashing through the cement floor, mouths opened wide as they lunged at the fire. They began attacking the fire, crunching the burning wood and splitting the kettle. The hoofbiters hissed angrily or squealed in pain as they were burnt, spitting out an oily blue bile in retaliation.
The radio was still blaring, despite being smashed aside by their initial frenzied assault. The tunneling terrors turned their attention to the source of the music, slithering along the floor like large snakes. They sniffed the small radio, lifting their scaly heads as their thick black tongues slipped in and out.
“I’ve seen gecko’s do this, they’re tasting the air. Looking for us.” Mustang whispered. The hoofbiters heads perked up and glanced our way, hissing loudly.
“Cocknoodles!” I shouted, firing my missile launcher. The beasts were faster, diving through the cement and avoiding the missile as they scythed towards us.
“SCATTER!” Mustang bellowed, throwing Crosshair to the left. The zebra yelped as he soared out and into the hallway leading upstairs. A hoofbiter made a beeline for me, it’s sharp horn angled so it would skewer me. I leapt in a clumsy roll, diving to the right as the bladelike horn narrowly missed impaling me. The horn stabbed into the wall behind me, the ground rumbling under my hooves as the hoofbiter let out an angry shriek and pulled itself free. I ran to the right, hopping over the cracked floor and sticking close to Mustang as we bolted through rows of looted shelves. The metal storage racks rattled behind us, being tossed aside like foals toys as the tunneling predators pursued us. I kept looking back, watching the horns cut through the ground, even bumping into one another as each hoofbiter tried to get ahead of the others.
“QUICK, THE CONVEYOR BELTS!” Confused, I looked at the black lines of conveyor belts, empty boxes littering them. Mustang jumped onto a conveyor belt with a heavy whump, the metal frame groaning under his weight. I leapt onto another one, feeling the metal and rubber crunch down, but not collapse under me.
“UP! UP! RUN UP!” Mustang shouted, running along the belt, which was rose up to the second floor. I ran up my conveyor belt, the structure swaying as hoofbiters swarmed around the supports keeping it up, I dashed up to a small opening where boxes inevitably came through, sliding into the opening. I almost made it, my armor cracking through the hole, widening it, but my saddlebags were still too wide.
“You made it! Let me help you.” Mustang stated in relief, grabbing me with his magic and pulling me through, the hole widening as the reinforced saddlebags ground against the 200 year old plaster.
“That went better than expected, usually the monster catches me and starts slamming me arou-” I joked, but was rudely cut off as my rear hooves were bitten. “They’ve got my hooves! THEY’VE GOT MY HOOVES!” I screeched, feeling myself being tugged and twisted from behind.
“Stop squirming Elder, I can’t get a clear shot at them!” Mustang said, trying to squeeze the barrel of Hailstorm through the tight opening. Stomping me flat with his forelegs, he tried to get a clear shot.
“Shit, just use my shotgun!” I half-screamed, in a totally manly way, and levitated it out. I fired behind me, but the shot went wide as the hoofbiter spun me into a roll. A loud explosion heralded the sudden widening of the conveyer entry point.
“I’ve seen radigators do that, it’s trying to twist your legs off!” Mustang said in a panicked tone. “I’ll take the shot!” He said, pulling the shotgun away from me, overwhelming my own magical grip, before pressing both hooves on my back and all his weight. The hoofbiters hissed as they tried to painfully twist my legs off in two different directions. Mustang fired, launching us farther into the room as the explosive shell detonated behind me. Painful screeches filling the air as the hoofbiter fell off the conveyor belt.
“I think you overpacked that shell Elder.” Mustang groaned beside me. I pulled myself up, wincing as I tried putting weight on my hindlegs. The hoofbiter’s teeth were still wedged into the metal, blue saliva and oddly luminescent green blood coating them. “We should be safe up here for now Elder, it’s too high for them to jump. But poor Crosshair is on the other side of the warehouse.” Mustang said, glancing down at the ground, below the conveyor belt. He turned around, noticing my injured hind legs “Oh, that looks nasty, lets get those out.” Mustang said cheerfully, pulling each tooth out carefully, and adding them to a small drawstring bag.
“Mustang why are you- yowch! Why are you collecting those teeth?” I asked, wincing as the last tooth was pulled free.
“Everything is worth something.” Mustang replied evenly. I was about to ask who would want monster teeth, when the cool sensation of Med-X and the warm tingling sensation of a healing potion flowed through me. I groaned in delight, lying there for a few minutes. “Uhm...Inkwell? Elder? You’ve been lying there for three minutes now, perhaps we should make haste and find Crosshair?” He was right of course, I couldn’t just lie there in drug-induced bliss. Reluctantly I stood up, my hind legs quivering only very slightly.
“Alright Star Paladin, lets find our first Knight.” I said, while pushing open the first door I could find. The door opened, hissing and crunching as it scraped along the ground. A thick layer of frost coating the corridor ahead of us. I walked ahead, the frost crunching softly as we entered the hallway. My helmet showed a friendly green somewhere ahead of us and several red blips squashed together around it. “You wouldn’t know how to fly, would you Mustang?” I asked, staring through the floor as we moved along.
“Sadly not Elder, those kind of spells are notoriously difficult to perform, especially more than once.” Mustang replied.
Well there went any hope of flying to safety, looks like we’d be forced to try and outrun the hoofbiters when we found Crosshair, or wait for them to leave. As we got closer to the green blip, a large banging echoing around us. We cantered towards Crosshair’s blip, finding the zebra was kicking a metal door, making small dents in the metal.
“Ah Elder, it’s good to see you both survived. Though maybe a bit of warning before you toss me like that Star Paladin?” Crosshair greeted us, still kicking the door.
“What are you doing Crosshair? I can see hoofbiters clustering beneath us, with all the noise you’re making.” I explained, glancing down at the mass of red blips below us.
“Relax Elder, they are young and unable to leap and tunnel up to us.” Those were young hoofibters? I shuddered to think what an adult would look like. “I’ve nearly got this door loose, just let me-” Crosshair was cut off by Mustang.
“Nonsense knight Crosshair, I’ll handle this. This door just needs a jolly good kick.” Mustang grinned, stepping a few paces back and charging the door. A pace from the door, he pivoted and slammed his hind hooves at it. Maybe a hairsbreadth away from impact, time slowed to an eerie crawl. Looking in slow motion at Mustang, I was greeted with a wonder to behold. Angelic light was blossoming from behind him, his hair still flowing in a wild arch from his spin. A group of singing voices echoed in the background, flowing perfectly over his muscled body like some form of divine choir.
As his hooves came to a seemingly slow rest upon the heavy metal door, a striped hoof slipped in and pushed the door open. Abruptly the light and music cut out, and Mustang collapsed to the floor in an ungainly heap.
“What? No, turn it back on!” I said before I could catch myself, earning some confused looks from Mustang and Crosshair. “Er, that is... uh...”
“Anyways,” Crosshair interjected, bringing the sudden awkward silence to an end. “I’d already taken care of it, if you had just waited.”
Behind the door, was a set of stairs, heading straight up, to another door. Mustang picked himself up, dusting his coat off and heading up the stairs. I followed suite, the air growing colder and my horn aching slightly as we got higher. Mustang bucked open the second door before Crosshair could open it letting in a blast of cold wind. Snowflakes whirling around the tight stairway. We exited the stairs, arriving on the rooftop, which was being bombarded by high winds and snow. I glanced around, searching for a fire escape or possibly a gutter we could use to climb down. Trotting over and examining a rusted ladder that lead down the side of the building
“It’s no use going back down Elder, it’s too dangerous.” He explained, scooping up some snow and rolling it into a ball.
“What do we do then? We’ll have to climb back down... Well, I’m sure we could outrun the hoofbiters...” I said, though I was dubious of my own claim.
Crosshair trotted up beside me, now pushing a massive lump of snow, which he shoved off the roof. We watched it fall for a moment, before it landed with a thick thump. It took about five seconds before hoofbiters were bursting through the ground and walls in a frenzied and hissing mass of teeth and scales.
“I, um... see what you mean, now...” I said weakly.
“We can move across the rooftops!” Mustang called out over the wailing wind. “Look here, it’s just a little hop skip to the other side.” Mustang added, cheerfully leaping to another rooftop, time almost seemed to slow as he flew through the air, before landing heavily on the other rooftop. He turned back, smiling widely. “Now then, how about you take the plunge Elder?”
We spent the next three hours hopping from roof to roof. Three. Dangerous. Hours. Every time I leapt over a rooftop or into a window, I had to worry about slipping and falling or falling short of my mark. The wind didn’t help much, sometimes whipping out in powerful gusts that nearly tipped over Mustang. During one gut-wrenching jump, Crosshair was hanging by his forehooves with two unaware Super Stallions below him. Fortunately, we pulled him up without incident, despite the gurgling hisses of their scuttler guard dog, trying to alert them.
We eventually found our way onto the roof of a deserted supermarket, where I had to hop down to a lower roof first. I then caught Crosshair and almost went through the roof when it was time to catch Mustang. Thankfully the roof held, though I quickly trotted back from the large cracks we’d made, just to be safe.
“I hope that’s the last time we need to pull off an escape like that.” Mustang said, breathing a sigh of relief as he looked over the side of the roof, the snow covered ground now closer than it had been in hours. I was equally relieved, at least if I leapt off this roof, I’d only end up under a couple of feet of snow.
“I found a way down.” Crosshair said, having dug through some snow and uncovered an access hatch.
“Good work, at least now we don’t have to leap onto rusted cars and snow.” I said cheerfully, glancing down the opened hatch, revealing an old wooden ladder. I pressed a hoof on the ladder lightly, causing it to groan a little, but seemed to be otherwise stable. I spun around and climbed down, followed shortly by my companions.
We’d arrived in a storage room, coated in frost and snow. Icicles hanging from the ceiling, making the room feel like a dangerous cave. I inspected one of the crates, cracking the lid off with my hooves to reveal cans and cans of cram.
“Guys, open your saddlebags. I need help carrying all this cram.” I exclaimed, as I began to pack away the cans of delicious meat. Crosshair visibly cringed in revulsion, while Mustang helped me pack the tasty canned food.
“I’ll go inspect the rest of this floor, you take care of those... emergency rations.” He trotted off quietly, exiting the room as a steady pile of square cans grew beside me. I was able to pack a surprising number of them into my saddlebags, stacking them in tightly one atop the other. Mustang added some cram into his own saddlebags before we inspected a few of the other crates. The other crates had been looted a long time ago, mostly the vegetable products like canned carrots. There were a few left, but at best they were in a questionable state. Still, I dropped them in as well. Waste not, want not.
Satisfied with our haul, I tracked down Crosshair using my helmet’s EFS. He was waiting downstairs, looking over some papers.
“Ah, your timing is impeccable. I think I know exactly where we are now.” I walked over to join him, peering at the checkout stall he’d laid the papers out on, revealing it to be some kind of map. “I managed to piece this map together, though it’s missing large parts of Wintertrot.” That explained why it looked so small and rough. “This can still be useful Elder, this is a bus schedule, indicating where you can get picked up. We just happen to be at one such stop.” He pointed outside the store, at a tilted bus stop sign poking valiantly out of the ground.
“Alright, so we’re on this bus route, how does that help us?” I asked, looking over the map.
“Well if you look here Elder, the bus route terminates at the mines. We just have to follow the signs and we should make it there without further hindrance.” He emphasized should, glancing out at the snowy landscape, frowning slightly.
“None shall impede us Crosshair.” Mustang said, raising a hoof gallantly. “If we find a wall, we will break it down. If anyone tries to stop us, we shall barrel through them. We shall complete our quest and vanquish our foes with righteousness!” The wind gusting into the exposed store blew through his mane and beard, heralding the gentle music and soothing lights that slowly crept up from behind him. I may have goggled at him for a bit before the window was slammed shut.
Looking over, it appeared Crosshair didn’t share our enthusiasm. Shrugging he opened his saddlebags, removing three pouches of RadAway and a brown bottle of Radsafe capsules.
“Drink up. We have quite a trek ahead of us.” Crosshair said, passing both of us a pouch. I removed my helmet to drink the medicine, dousing my horn in the radiation purging solution. Giving it a few minutes to seep in, before wiping away the excess liquid, before my eyes started stinging again. I ran a steel clad hoof over my horn for a moment. Was it sharper than before? maybe that was just my imagination. I noticed Mustang watching me, giving me a fake smile, before looking away. No doubt he was worried about my horn growth too. It had been poking him only a few hours ago, after all.
We had to wait a few hours for the snowstorm to die down to a more tolerable snowfall. Giving us plenty of time to snack on some of the pilfered cram, straight from the can, everything in the supermarket was too damp to build even a small fire and heat the cold meat up. That was fine, I kinda preferred it cold, it was more chewy that way.
The streets were eerily quiet, the wind having died down mostly. We froze every time we heard a large crash, usually cascades of snow falling due to their weight and the wind. As we marched onward, a cascade of snow fell across the street from us. My eyes lingered on where the snow had fallen from, revealing the top of the building had collapsed. I would have ignored it, had I not spied a massive hole in a taller building behind it. I glanced up at the building we were marching beside, noticing a hole bored through that building as well. Looking further down the street, I could see the ominous trail of destruction continuing in a downwards motion.
The bus route brought us along parallel to the trail. Coming to the lowest, and last holed building, I was finally able to see what had plowed through so many steadfast skyscrapers.
It was big and metallic, like the airship I had arrived in. But this was no mere airship, at the mercy of high winds. No, this was a downed cloudship, so torn and mangled it was actually pretty hard to tell what it had been. If I hadn’t seen a few blueprints, I probably wouldn’t have recognized the engineering compartments for what they were. As it was, large pieces of it were missing and huge chunk of metal had been gouged off the side of the main reactor. Several junction ports and cloud generators had been stripped open, revealing 200 year old circuitry that still gleamed faintly in the light. Rust had of course attempted to tarnish the behemoth, but for the most part, the ship was in relatively good order. You know. For having gone through what had to at least have been six or seven multiton buildings.
I paused, glancing at the cloudship wreckage and up the snowy street we were travelling along. On one hoof, I could continue to the mines where we might find some mining suits I could turn into proper power armor. And on the other hoof, there was a heavily damaged and mostly buried warship sitting right there. With a heavy sigh, I turned from the wreck. Instead of crawling through it like I wanted to, I had Crosshair pull out the map and mark down the street we were on. Hopefully, after getting some of the ghouls decked in armor, we could get a real scavenging team down here. Actually, now that I thought about it, they might even be able to fix it enough to get it at least partially operational.
And then the logistics side of me went into overdrive as I mutely followed my companions.
As it turned out, it was pretty much a straight shot to the mine. We passed by several signs, many of them old, depicting warnings. Some of the more artistic warning signs had pony skulls and crossbones on them, while others were written in plain equestrian. I ignored the colorful warnings mostly, focusing on how many mercenaries I could hire to protect a salvage team. Hiring Snow Pirates was definitely a big no-no. Perhaps Wintertrot had some talon or other mercenary groups? I’d worry about that later. We finally came upon the last bus sign, looming under the shadow of a large quarry. One noteworthy sign proclaiming: Do not antagonize the Diamond Dog workers. Throwing chew toys into the premises is a punishable offense of up to 5,000 bits and 6 months community service. Violators will be persecuted to the full extent of the law.
The quarry was protected by a thick steel fence, rusted but still firm and unyielding as I discovered, trying to kick it down. We trotted to the front gate, where a suspiciously new padlock had been attached, along with some rather strong chains.
“I don’t like this... this place feels like a trap.” Crosshair said, casting glances at nearby windows. A cloud of snow rose up on a nearby rooftop, probably just the wind.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Crosshair. Probably just those Snow Pirates trying to keep good and decent scavengers out of this place.” I said, sure in my own logic. “Crosshair, see if you can pick the lock.” I asked, Crosshair huffed, before reluctantly pulling out a bobby pin and screw driver. I spun and kept a lookout behind us Mustang joined me a moment later. We waited patiently, while Crosshair cursed in zebrican as he struggled with the lock. There was finally a click as the padlock opened. I pulled the chain off with my magic, tossing it aside. Mustang pushed open the rusted gate, followed by Crosshair and myself.
There were three noteworthy buildings in the yard outside the mines, alongside numerous rusted and long abandoned machines and vehicles. The closest structure was a large warehouse, coated in a thin layer of snow. Further into the yard was another facility with several tall smokestack chimneys. Off to the far right of this mining complex was the last notable building. It looked like some old offices, probably where they took care of the finances and other paperwork.
“We’ll try that warehouse first.” I said, pointing purposefully at the old building. “That’s probably where most of the equipment was stored.” Crosshair and Mustang both nodded in agreement, walking beside me as we made for the warehouse. The deadbolt was a lot faster than the gate’s padlock, but I still felt a bit antsy while standing there anyways. The door opened out onto the warehouse main floor where rows and rows of shelves filled the warehouse. Crates were stacked on bowing shelves, seemingly untouched in the last two centuries.
I mentally whooped, practically skipping past Mustang, until he pulled me back. “Be careful, this place could still be dangerous.”
I pulled myself out of his firm grip, but relented from prancing off into the rows of unopened goods. It would be just my luck to stumble upon any hidden traps.
“We can get a better look at this place from up there.” Crosshair said, pointing to a series of catwalks above us. We stuck close to the edge of the warehouse floor, before finding a ladder, leading up. I climbed up first, the metal frame of the catwalk lightly groaning under my weight, but thankfully showed no signs of immediately collapsing under me.
“It seems safe, come on up.” I called down, waving over the railing. My eyes stared over a row of shelves, until something seemed to move in my peripheral vision. I focused on the perceived movement but couldn’t see anything. My EFS wasn’t displaying any hostiles either, but I couldn’t help but linger on the spot for a few more moments. Still seeing no movement after a while, I eventually dismissed it as a trick of the light. Mustang chose to remain on the floor, watching as Crosshair climbed up.
“It looks abandoned…” Crosshair said slowly, pulling out his rifle and looking down the scope to scan the floor below. I walked to the left, peering at the roof for any hint of hidden turrets. I managed to make a quick lap around the warehouse, arriving back at the ladder, where Crosshair was still spying on the floor.
“See anything suspicious?” I asked.
“Nothing yet... no robot guardians or ghouls. No scavengers either... It almost feels... too safe.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that. Of course Crosshair would say something like that. Fortunately, saner minds know that not every building has ghouls, robots and mutants waiting to kill and snack on unwary ponies.
“It seems safe enough, I couldn’t see any panels for roof turrets.” Crosshair seemed to be staring intently at one shelf, before he slowly packed away his rifle.
“Very well Inkwell, lets just find what we came for as quickly as we can.” We climbed back down to the ground floor, and stuck close together as we began inspecting the packing cases. The crates were sealed tightly, the wooden boxes had been nailed shut. While the metallic ones had large locks on them, Crosshair was delicately picking the lock on one of the metal containers. Mustang preferred a more direct approach, Mustang swung the super sledge he’d picked up yesterday to smash open one of the crates, before sticking his head inside.
I popped open a metallic chest, drilling through the lock with my hoof-mounted drill. Opening it up, I was almost blinded from the light coming inside it. I reached in a hoof and scooped up a couple of colorful stones. Gems! I mentally corrected myself. A whole crate of gems could be exceedingly valuable, the ghouls could potentially make new talismans for energy weapons. Repair runes for armor, even. Assuming they could learn or copy the enchantments used on the talismans from the war.
Of course, all good things had to come to a loud end. There was a high pitched noise sounding vaguely reminiscent of an electrical discharge, followed by a sudden explosion. I turned towards the source of the commotion, only to see a dark form go flying past into another row of shelves.
“Was that Crosshair...?” Mustang asked, pulling his head out of the box and looking around.
I slid out my shotgun from its leather holster and carefully walked over to the end of row, before peeking into the next one. I spotted a blackened, smoking figure buried under some cardboard boxes. I walked over to the smoking body pulling itself off the boxes. It was Crosshair, his fur burnt and crisp, and reeked as was to be expected. But his eyes were unmistakable, even if they were dazed and rolling. With a sigh of relief, I holstered my shotgun so I could give a helping hoof.
“What happened?” I asked, helping him stand up. He opened his mouth to cough, only for a puff of smoke to escape instead.
“The cargo…. was booby trapped...” He rasped.
Next to us Mustang tapped a similar crate suspiciously, but nothing noteworthy happening.
“Seems fine to me, perhaps the-”
We would never know what he was about to say due to an ominously demented giggle that floated across the warehouse. We all jerked as one, looking around to try and locate the originating point. I could feel the hair on the nape of my neck go on edge, pressing against the inside of armor protecting it. Next to me, Mustang’s own coat nearly doubled in size, a barely audible poof accompanying the reaction. Crosshair, on the other hoof, was already at maximum fluff from the trap, but his eyes took on a rather worrying twitch as if to put the point across.
Of course, then the giggles only redoubled, quickly becoming a moderately hysterical, and considerably predatory cackle.
“Okay... uh...” I started in a low voice. “How about we make like trees and get the fuck outta here...?”
In a breathtaking display of coordination and teamwork, we successfully moved from row to row, keeping our weapons pointed out and covering every angle we could. After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than two minutes at tops, we had made out way to the door. Exiting at an unseemly pace, Mustang and I may have jammed ourselves in the doorway. Fortunately, careful deliberations won the day as I trampled him underhoof to make my escape. Turning back, it seemed we had worried for naught, as there was no shadowy specter looming on the other side of the exit. With a nerve shredding slam, Crosshair smashed the door shut, then reverse picked the lock until the deadbolt clicked shut.
Sitting down, we all took a moment to catch our breath in a collective sigh. I popped my helmet off to wipe the sweat from around my eyes.
“What the buck was that?” I asked, slapping some snow on my head to cool off.
“I’ve never heard such vile laughter.” Crosshair mumbled.
“It was like the laughter of a madpony, mixed with an unholy aura.” Mustang said surprisingly meekly, still coming down his poofy fur.
“Did anyone remember to grab the checklist?” I asked, remembering I’d been looking over it.
“Nope.” Crosshair and Mustang responded. I glanced back at the warehouse and then at my two companions.
“No worries. Lets just... press on to the mines? See where things go from there, I suppose...” I said, shrugging my shoulders noncommittally. We sat there for a few minutes, before reluctantly I stood up. I was still sweating heavily, despite the cold, so I kept my helmet off. I secured the helmet to the rigging of my saddlebag, using the little catch in the neckline.
Head gear secured, we made our way to the mine entrance.
The snow began to die down as we approached the mine, giving us a much clearer view of our destination. Large cranes stood idle, hanging from their gantries, hooks slowly swaying to and fro in the wind. Abandoned trucks and autowagons sat outside the entrance, rusted and coated in thick ice. The front of the mine was supported by a massive frame of girders and metal struts, many of which had ladders and scaffolding still hanging from them. Despite probably being unfinished or hopefully just under maintenance, the girders stood the test of time, supporting the massive weight of the earth and rock above it.
We moved between the frozen vehicles, making our way to the large yawning entrance. The interior of the mine was lit by a series of floodlights, some of which had failed over the years. Most of them, however, were still working, though dimmed significantly. We paused briefly, my hoof hovering in the air, before I took my first nervous step into the mines.
Footnote
Inkwell: Level 5 Perk Added: Lead by Example - For every follower you have, you and your party members gain certain bonuses to SPECIAL stats.
Crosshair: Level 5 Perk Added: Power Armor Training - You are now able to equip and use power armor.
Mustang: Level 5 Perk Added: Angelic Dialogue - During certain conversations, your actions and demeanor become almost irresistible. You inspire others and gain +3 Charisma during these conversations, assuming nothing interrupts you.
