> Fallout Equestria: Eschaton Storm
>  by TheCopperDragonBard
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fizzlepop Berrytwist

Fizzlepop merely walked forward, intending to reach her destination miles away. She didn't care about any pain she had in her hooves, or how long she had been travelling for- in fact, the only reason she even cared about going to the cities to begin with was because this one populated area was the closest of such locations for a good while.

Fizzlepop had been a vagabond, of sorts, ever since the day she lost her horn; she would simply wander Equestria, collecting various oddities she discovered on her journeys to sell at markets, earning the money she needed to buy food and similar essentials. Granted, she had also been considering other career paths as well, as of late.

She would frequently keep up-to-date with the news during her travels; from what it had seemed, there was a bit of hot water going on between Equestria and the zebra's newly-founded empire. Although the Royal Sisters had tried to keep things under control, war between the two kingdoms ultimately broke out, and now the two sides were fighting amongst each other. However, from what it seemed, Equestria seemed to be getting the upper hoof, and victory seemed to be imminent on their behalf.

Even with triumph on the horizon, the broken-horned Unicorn was still greatly considering joining the Guard, doing her part in serving her country- even if such a time would be brief, with the zebra's defeat being only a matter of time.

'Hopefully the zebras will be smart and surrender while they still can. Surrendering and only losing a little- or even a lot- is much better than not doing so and losing everything.'

Tempest's right forehoof struck a rock, causing her to trip over, causing the only item she collected in a good while, an ornate guitar, to fly off her back and clatter forward, emitting a hollow thunk as it landed on the gravel road.

Concerned for the item's safety, she immediately dashed forward to access any damage done to the relic. The guitar in question was a string acoustic, carved from a dark brown, polished wood(cherry, she thought), with a shimmering black pickguard that had flecks of silver in it that formed the Pisces constellation. It was supposedly the guitar of a famous country singer and- well- guitarist named West Bard, and it could easily be worth hundreds of bits if it was the real thing- granted it's fall hadn't messed it up beyond that point.

She grabbed the instrument, swiftly but carefully, and inspected it for any damage that would decrease it's value.

A few scratches. Tempest released a breath of relief. It would only decrease the value by a couple of coins, at most.

Slinging the artifact back over her shoulder, she continued walking on her way over to her destination. Eventually, she ascended a hill, one that overlooked the exact location she had been heading- Manehatten, a city of commerce and trade- the perfect place to do business.

She began to continue on he way- and stopped.

Over in the horizon, in the sky, she saw what seemed to be plane heading toward the city's way. That was odd... planes were typically used for military use. Most of the time, it was pegasi who performed aerial deliveries.

The plane flew closer- and that's when she realized the horrifying truth.

That was a military plane- a bomber, to be exact.

What the Tartarus would a bomber be doing flying over the city? It wasn't descending towards the airports, heavily giving the implication that it was a hostile asset, and even then, why would the zebras try to attack the city when doing so would only cause them to lose even faster(and likely with less mercy offered)? They had to have been either insane or desperate to pull such a bold and direct move.

However, what happened next completely caught her off guard... instead of dropping a steady stream of bombs over the city, all it deployed was a single, incorporeal, glowing ball.

It fell upon the city, disappearing into the skyscrapers and office complexes- and a mere second later, a colossal explosion erupted from Manehatten, consuming the city in a flash of blinding light. Tempest had to look away quickly, shielding her eyes and turning her head away from the ball of light that radiated from the city. Of course, since her eyes were away from the city, she didn't even know what was coming- not that she would have been able to avoid it, anyway.

A wave of agonizing energy washed through her; she hadn't even known until she had felt it.

And that's when she started on fire.

Her flesh and coat, starting alight with sickly green flames that wreathed her entire body, burning with the intensity of a thousand suns and inflicting the pain of a thousand hells, disintegrating her fur and charring her exposed flesh. 

She tried to turn her eyes back towards the city, to see what had become of it, but such proved to be a folly; the baleful energy tore at the left side of her face now that it was even more exposed to it than the rest of her body. The energy disintegrated her cheek, exposing the left side of her mouth, revealing a mouthful of teeth clenched in agony. Her left eye was immediately consumed by fire, melting the organ and cauterizing the socket simultaneously. Upon feeling half of her vision fail her, she turned back away immediately. 

Throughout the whole ordeal, she was in too much pain to scream, to voice her agony to the world.

Another shockwave thundered the earth, though this time she was able to both hear and feel it. She was sent flying from the ground she had been standing on for what felt like one torturous eternity, a ball of fire and flesh hurling through the sky.

In spite of all of this, it was only when she hit the ground that the pain overtaxed her being, and when her vision faded to darkness.
> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One-hundred seventy-five years later...

Scorch

To say Scorch was having a bad day would be a huge understatement.

He was dangerously low on supplies, with only a fully-loaded gun, his long-tattered Stable attire, a combat saddle, and a Pipbuck cuffed to his right foreleg. He hadn't eaten for days, and in order to actually obtain supplies, he had to follow the Roaches- because wherever the Roaches were, there was almost always gear.

The Roaches were a subdivision of the Wretched Hive- who themselves were the most prolific, powerful, and easily the most dangerous raider band in the Wastes. The Wretched Hive held unparalleled dominion over the land- they were better equipped, better trained and disciplined, and more numerous than any other band of raiders, and used these factors to keep the wanderers of the waste in line. 

Granted, he knew the entire Roach collective wouldn't be here; the Roaches were spread out all over the Wastes, as many of the other splinter-factions of the Wretched Hive were. Of course, a squadron of raiders from any of the factions would always be a cluster-buck to deal with, especially for one as poorly-equipped as he.

He had been tailing a trio of mobs for days, hoping they would lead him to somewhere he could restock, and had done so for a good while, eventually being lead to the ruins of Vanhoover. Upon arriving at the city, the squadrons had dispersed to search for junk, and he had done the same.

As of now, he was at the westernmost part of the port town, the area that held all the docks and naval trading departments; he was currently poking around an entire field of rusty carriages and vehicles overlooking the sea. He only really had his eye out for Roaches; rarely anything lived here, after all.

Unlike a lot of pre-war settlements, Vanhoover was never recolonized after the war, meaning that nearly everything had been untouched by survivors- it was fertile ground for gathering supplies. It didn't surprise him too terribly much that the Wretched Hive sent the Roaches here- and, to be honest, it didn't even surprise him on why they hadn't salvaged the area earlier. Many of the post-war colonies were deep into the Equestrian Heartland, and the Wretched Hive's stronghold was straight-up on the other side of the continent.

He investigated the carriages, ancient and abandoned, doing quick scans on them with his Pipbuck to detect anything of interest within them. He scanned and bypassed countless vehicles, having found nothing within them.

Meanwhile, many yards away, three changelings with partially-decayed chitin and exoskeletons, ash-grey in color with faint, gleaming eyes and orange war paint smeared on their bodies were spying on him from afar- not that he knew. One of them, a soldier with a full-head helmet with numerous eye holes, who also had orange triangular sigils strewn across her body, was peering through the scope of her sniper rifle to get a clear view of the intruder. At her right side was a drone with a chinstrap helmet on his head and his left eye replaced with a cybernetic, with orange claw marks painted over both of his eyes and armed with a full grenade belt; on her left, a drone with a metal cap locked over the top of his head(a hole for his horn having been provided), with triangular, jack-o-lantern-esque eyes painted over the area the eyes would be and an auto rifle grasped within his telekinesis.

The soldier lowered her rifle and addressed her inferiors. "Anthony, Ian, close the distance. I'll take him out from here."

Obeying her orders, the drones slunk ahead, cackling stupidly as they stealthily advanced, while the soldier took aim.

Meanwhile, Scorch was still continuing to investigate the various abandoned vehicles that cluttered the fields of the abandoned port, happening upon a carriage that had the skeleton of a stallion strewn in the seat. The owner of the skeleton had met with a terrible death; the cranial area of the skull had been shot through, undoubtedly by a bullet.

"Ouch."

It was then when he heard a gun go off, followed by a tremendous pain as he felt something cleanly tear through his right foreleg.

Clutching his now-bleeding leg and uttering a curse, he immediately ducked behind the vehicle with the dead stallion, readying his own rifle, a painted-red piece of work called Tirek's Middle Claw, for combat. Looking through the scope, he saw the offender- a changeling ghoul armed with a sniper rifle... a Roach, no doubt. He took aim, crouched and under cover behind the vehicle; although a regular rifle didn't have the range and accuracy of a sniper, he would still be able to hit her from here.

He then heard maniacal cackling behind him, scaring the Tartarus out of him. He whipped around, gun ready, to see a pair of ghoulified drones, one with a belt of grenades clutching one with his telekinesis, and another with an automatic rifle trained on him.

"Hah, you're gonna die!" the grenadier shouted as he pulled the pin on the explosive he was currently wielding.

Swifter than lightning, Scorch pressed a button on his Pipbuck, activated the S.A.T.S spell and freezing everything in place.

"Uh, Anthony, why aren't we moving? We're about to get shot."

"Because, Ian, he's deciding what part of our body he wants to shoot, and we just have to hope that by a random percentage algorithm that he'll miss us."

"Well, he's not even aiming at us, so I don't even know why he even bo-"

The grenade held in the grasp of the raider named "Ian" exploded, and if the initial explosion didn't kill them instantly, the explosions caused by the other grenades negated any hope of survival, reducing the ghouls to green paste. Scorch was triumphant in his victory, at first- until another bullet tore through his left shoulder blade, reminding him of the soldier he had taken cover against.

He immediately assumed cover again, resuming his position and firing a shot at the Roach soldier, the bullet tearing away the left side of her throat. Scorch was briefly surrounded by a purple energy, just barely mending his wounds. It was hardly much, but it provided a brief relief. Such was the benefit of Tirek's Middle Claw; every drop of blood it spilled, every life it extinguished, healed it's wielder's wounds, thus prolonging their own life.

Of course, his crack-shot did little; the ghoul's destroyed throat reconstructed itself in a second, drawing off the irradiated atmosphere around it to heal it's wounds, only leaving behind a (still noticeable) scar. Recovering, the soldier fired another shot. Although the rusted hull of the carriage made for a good shield, Scorch was still grazed on his right shoulder, forcing him to remain behind it to briefly nurse his wound. He shook off his newer shoulder wound much quicker than his other injuries, taking aim again and striking her in the chest, causing a gout of green, irradiated blood to spurt from the wound. The injury healed soon enough, leaving only a mark where the bullet penetrated the exoskeleton. With that, the soldier retaliated, once again pulling the trigger.

And nothing happened.

Although Scorch couldn't really hear her, she seemed to hiss as she remove the clip from her sniper rifle and reached for a new one. Taking the opportunity, he fired another shot, nailing her in the neck. 

It did nothing; not only did she regenerate from the wound completely, but her other scars seemed to heal over as well. At least, on the bright side, his own had as well; he was considerably in a better shape than he had been not too long ago.

Reloading her rifle, she sent forward another shot, and he took another graze to the right shoulder, ducking behind the carriage. Scorch leapt up again to take another shot at his foe, only to be shot himself right through the right side of his chest, with no rusty metal hull to shield the bullet.

'Clever girl.' he thought. Deciding to be sneaky himself, he decided to crawl over to the other side of the carriage; once he did so, he popped out and took a potshot at his combatant, shooting her right in the heart. Although the regeneration made it so it did virtually nothing, the life-force he reaped from her completely healed the chest wound he had received.

Which was replaced by an even worse one that struck his sternum, dangerously close to his esophagus. Thank the Goddesses that the bullet didn't tear through his spine on it's way out.

The wasteland wanderer took cover yet again, clutching at the horrible wound. It had barely missed multiple vital organs when it struck the chestplate-like bone in his ribcage. He looked to his rifle; he had one bullet left. He prayed to Celestia and Luna that it would produce enough life force to matter- then swung out from his cover and pulled the trigger, nailing the Roach sniper in the leg.

A mere inkling was all he got. It hardly even stopped the bleeding, let alone healed the wounds to any favorable extent.

He made a mad dash toward another carriage to reload... only to be shot in the right flank, causing him to topple onto the ground.

Even as he heaved his body forward, feebly attempting to crawl away, he heard the buzzing of insectine wings coming closer. He heard a thud at his side- before a blunt force struck him in the head, stunning him. He opened his eyes to see the elongated barrel of the soldier's sniper rifle in-between his eyes, the Roach looking directly at him through her helmet. He could see the glow of her eyes through the holes added to it.

"Such an exotic-looking fellow, aren't you? We Roaches aren't like the Hornets... we don't exactly have the pleasure of kidnapping unfortunate souls on a daily basis. I'm almost tempted to keep you as my little pet..."

She tilted her head as if she was still pondering it, causing a shiver to run down his spine. If he wasn't terrified a few seconds ago, he was now; the prospect of being a raider's personal object was not a pleasant one.

"...but, you still intruded upon our scrounging grounds, and we wouldn't want anyone alive to run off and risk exposing our presence here."

She applied her telekinesis on the trigger, ready to shoot.

"You gave me a good fight; that's not something I can say for a lot of the unlucky bastards I kill. For that, I'll make your death quick."

She pulled the trigger- and once again, nothing happened. She was out of ammunition.

She growled, pulling the gun back and slinging it over the back, before hovering into the air, proceeding to fly off.

"Don't hold your breath! I will inform the others of this, and when you do, you'll either be dead, or you'll wish you were!"

And with that, she took off, flying towards the ruins of the actual city located eastward. Scorch struggled to stand up, with both his chest and leg in tremendous pain. He limped forward, looking around for any way he could hide or escape. He knew that he wouldn't be able to leave the ruins by the time the squadrons converged upon him, especially in his current state. He hardly even had the strength to even think about the fact that he was doomed, let alone reloading or thinking on how to escape; he merely finished his walk over to the wrecked carriage that he had originally bolted towards for cover and slumped down, sitting down while leaning against it with a thump.

He heard a snort.

Immediately cautious, he leapt into a battle stance, readying his enchanted rifle(even though it was empty), and went back over to the vehicle to investigate the source of the noise within.

He did not expect what he saw.

It was another pony.

Or, at least, he thought she was; she was one of the most horrid-looking specimens he had ever seen. Her fur and flesh had been charred black, although he could still make out a vestigial hint of tyrian purple in her burnt coat, and she lacked a mane or tail- likely burned off from whatever partially incinerated the rest of her body. Her veins burned with a vibrant green light that radiated from underneath her skin. One of her eyes was closed, and the other an empty socket with a green pinprick of light glowing from within it, giving off a chilling feeling that she wasn't completely asleep. Her left cheek had been completely torn out, half-exposing her jaws, which had teeth that radiated a faint green glow, not unlike the eyes of the changeling ghouls. She wore a cloak, and at her side was a burnt and heavily damaged guitar- though the implication that it was still playable amazed him. But easily her most noticeable physical trait was that her horn was broken off at the base. Few Unicorns survived long in the wastes without their horns, and yet this figure had made it all the way to Vanhoover.

Speaking of which, this individual just so happened to be sleeping, curled up into a ball and sleeping comfortably, completely oblivious to the threats that she would face.

Scorch couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the Unicorn, as well as astonishment of her obvious confidence.

Then he thought of another thing- she was clearly a survivor. She had lasted as long as she had with no weapons, drugs, or even magic; that would give the strong implication that she was a skilled combatant, with potentially years of experience.

She could be his ticket out of here. Even if he didn't see her as such, the squadron would inevitably find her as well- and he doubted even someone like she could hold off two roving gangs of raiders- who also happened to be ghouls, not to mention.

All he needed to be sure of was if she was safe to associate with. Activating his E.F.S spell, he scanned over the sleeping mare.

Yellow, not red. Good.

He grabbed ahold of her shoulder and began shaking her, firmly but gently.

"C'mon, stranger, eyes up."
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fizzlepop Berrytwist

The peace of her dreamless sleep was disturbed by a feeling of her shaking.

"C'mon, stranger, eyes up."

She started coming to, beginning to open up her eyes to see what seemed to be a purple blur and the green, reddish-brown, and gray of the outside world.

"Please, I need you awake."

She fully woke up, seeing her surroundings in full clarity.

"You're up! Good, good! I'm going to need your help, if you don't mind."

She turned to the source of the noise, and saw a stranger with her in the carriage. 

He was... a unique pony, to say the least. He had the body type of a typical Unicorn, but had an elongated, reptilian snout, a thin coat of scales instead of fur, talons replacing his front hooves, and slit pupils, all akin to a dragon. His scales were a vibrant indigo with streaks of cyan, his mane and tail were bone-white with streaks of red and violet, he seemed to lack a Cutie Mark, and his eyes were two different colors- his right being a bright cerise, and his left being an aureolin yellow. He wore what seemed to be a saddle with a mechanical arm, with said mechanical arm holding onto a crimson rifle, as well as a tattered denim shirt and what seemed to be the offspring of a bracelet and a computer strapped onto his right foreleg, just above the claw. His shirt was a blood-soaked mess, and his right flank was bleeding.

She didn't attack him; he clearly seemed to be friendly, as he himself hadn't attacked, nor was attacking. Nonetheless, she remained cautious- one had to be in this world.

"Who are you?"

"A wanderer, much like yourself. But we should really get to know each other later. We really need to get out of here, as quickly as possible."

A multitude of horrible screeches echoed across the ruins, coming from the city.

"This is Roach territory, and since I'm assuming you've faced the Wretched Hive- what am I saying, who hasn't at some point- you do not want to trifle with them. They only know I'm around, but long story short, if we don't high-tail out of the ruins before they find us, we're both dead."

He leapt out of the carriage, and he proceeded to replace the clip in his gun, before turning back towards her.

"We had best head towards the city if we want to save our skins."

Fizzlepop got up, slinging her guitar over her back and leaping out of the carriage. "Isn't that where these Roaches would be?"

"They'll still be expecting us- well, me, mostly- to be out here, so they'll be searching for me around this area on that basis. The last place they'll be expecting us is an area even further into their turf than we already are." 

More screeches came from the city, considerably louder.

"We need to move inside, fast. We won't survive out in the open like thi-"

Fizzlepop was already running past him, towards the ruined skyscrapers and buildings.

"I get the idea, let's just go!"

She and her companion began sprinting to safety(Fizzlepop quickly taking notice of his hobbling run, likely due to the wound in his leg). The dirt of the plains swiftly turned into concrete roads, and they slowed their pace, skulking around the ruined buildings while keeping an eye out for the ghoul raiders that had set up base throughout.

While they slunk about, her fellow survivor spoke to her again, whispering to her.

"I can't help but ask, why were you sleeping while the Roaches were in the vicinity?"

"The Roaches weren't in the vicinity when I dozed off. They- and you, clearly- must have come overnight. I had come her to rest, recuperate, maybe grab some supplies- since this place is one of the hardest-to-reach places in the wasteland, I thought it would be fine. I didn't expect anyone else to be here."

Before she could go on, the half-dragon grabbed her and yanked her behind a carriage, knocking them both onto the ground.

"Ouch! What was that for?" she whisper-yelled, still trying not to attract unwanted attention.

"There are Roaches ahead! Look!"

They both looked over the edge of the carriage to, indeed, see numerous Wretched Hive ghouls marked with orange paint patrolling what seemed to formerly be a plaza. She counted five- a drone with a regular rifle and a belt of six grenades, wearing a full helm with multiple eye holes, another drone who wore both a pair of leather boots wrapped in chain on his forelegs and a belt of five grenades, yet another drone who seemed to wear a tin can on top of her eyes which also had multiple eye holes, and one more drone who wore virtually nothing, covered with horrid tumors and boils all over his body. He carried a unique-looking gun, one that looked like a wedge with a grip, a trigger, and a barrel, of course. Fizzlepop couldn't be certain, but she would recall that being a magical energy rifle. The gang's fifth raider was a soldier that had a metal cap locking over his head and a couple of metal, wing-like protrusions welded to it, who had a revolver and a belt of six grenades strapped to his chest. There was also one other distinctive aspect about them- they had a pair of timberwolves locked in a cage that was chained to a lamp post, who gnawed on and tore at the bars continuously.

The drone with the helmet, rifle and grenade belt was rummaging through a box, assumedly some of the many supplies they had gathered during their brief time in the city. She tore open the box and dumped it over, causing a tremendous quantity of Twinkies to pour forward.

"Hey, guys!" she called, drawing attention to the other raiders. "Who's up for some Twinkies?"

Immediately, the raiders bolted over to the box, surrounding the sugary snacks and proceeding to unwrap and scarf them down. The broken-horned Unicorn immediately took notice of her companion's envious expression.

"Food... need food... must eat..." She saw the desperation, the urge, the compulsion in his eyes- the kind of feelings that would spur reckless action.

'Oh no...'

"NEED FOOD!!" he shrieked, aiming his rifle at the feasting ghouls. Fizzlepop was successful in knocking the gun away, but failed to stop him from pulling the trigger, causing the gun to go off, the bullet deflecting off a couple of walls before embedding itself into a stop sign. The Roaches all snapped their heads towards the two, their horrified faces visible from above the carriage edge.

"Hey!" the drone with the magic energy rifle shouted, his weapon already trained on them. "You shouldn't be here!"

The quintuplet of raiders fired upon them, accosting the two with a flurry of bullets and arcane energy. They thankfully ducked in time, avoiding the shots taken at them.

"Great work, genius! How are we going to get out of here alive now?"

"You know those timberwolves trapped in the cage that they're holding?"

"Oh, you noticed them? I thought you were too consumed by your hunger-induced mania to even acknowledge anything but those Twinkies."

"Har har. Anyhow, I reckon that they aren't being treated very well by their owners, because, you know, the Roaches are raiders. So if I shoot the lock off the cage, they should turn on their captors in an instant. At worst, they'll weaken them enough in both weaponry and health for them to be easier to pick off; at best, they'll just kill them for us."

Fizzlepop didn't even bother mull over the thought; she'd take anything that tip the odds of survival in their favor, even if it was only by a modicum. "Do what you have to do, just do it quickly!"

She saw the half-dragon scoot over to the edge of the carriage, aiming at the lock on the timberwolve's cage. She saw the lock shatter off with a spark of contact, and the cage door swung open.

The timberwolves wasted no time in pouncing on their captors, one whacking a ghoul off to the side with virtually no effect and the other tearing it's jaws into a raider's foreleg.

Satisfied that the heat was no longer on them, the two merely watched as the raiders fought their pets. In a bid to overwhelm the timberwolve's innate regeneration, those who had grenades used them; the ghoul with the rifle threw one at a timberwolf, the explosion blowing it's right foreleg and side to splinters. The drone with nothing but grenades and the soldier both chucked one of their own, the drone attacking the already-injured animal and the soldier hurling his explosive at the other. The wounded beast lost most of it's lower body in the newer explosion, reducing it to crawling on a single leg, while the previously-uninjured timberwolf got it's head blown off, causing it to wander around blindly. The group closed in for the kill, the drone with only a rifle and the soldier with the revolver combining firepower to shoot it twice in the head, temporarily putting it down. The other was completely splintered when the tumor-riddled drone fired a blast of mana upon it. With that said and done, all attention returned to them.

"Well... that didn't go nearly as well as I imagined..."

They ducked just in time to avoid another barrage coming their way.

"So, do you have any other half-baked Batmare-Gambit plans you'd like to share?"

"Uh, no."

"Good, because I have a plan. When I give the word, you start shooting."

"Wait, what do you mea-"

She didn't bother listen to his response, hurtling over the carriage and straight into the gunfire, charging up her horn. She fired a blast of emerald electricity into the fray, striking the drone with only grenades, causing him to collapse while convulsing spastically, dead. The lightning chained to two other drones, one with just a rifle and the other with the rifle and grenades, who also began shuddering violently.

"Nail those two!"

The hybrid complied, killing both drones with shots to the head. Meanwhile, the last surviving drone and the soldier fired upon her, the soldier firing a bullet from his revolver and the drone shooting her with the energy rifle. The bullet struck her foreleg, and the energy blast only grazed her, mostly slamming into the carriage behind her(earning a yelp of dismay from her accomplice). She felt the bullet wound and energy burns heal over just fine; they didn't really pose too much of a problem for a ghoul like her.

Retaliating, she fired another blast of electrical power from her shattered horn, striking both two of them and momentarily stunning them once again. Taking the cue, he repeated his previous feat, striking them both dead with headshots.

She turned back towards her partner, grinning triumphantly. He himself was also smiling, giving her a curt nod.

"Good thinking. I think you should call that team technique the One-Two Punch."

Her smile faded. "I wouldn't grow used to the concept, if I were you. Anyhow, let's keep going. We should probably find some way out of here."

"Are you kidding?" he stated, skittering around the carriage and searching the fallen ghouls. "I still need to scavenge all this stuff! I haven't had food in days, my rifle's down to two bullets, I mean, c'mon!"

He began tearing the clips off his former foes' rifles, either adding the bullets to his already-existing clip or stuffing the newer clip into the pockets of his shirt. After scrounging up ammo for his gun, he went over to the Twinkies(no surprise there) and began stuffing them inside of his pockets, and even into his shirt.

Rolling her eyes, Fizzlepop looked around for anything that may possibly help them escape the forsaken city- she turned around back where they came from... and froze.

She saw a mass of flying shapes heading back towards the city, howling and screeching. And they were heading their direction. 

"We need to go, now."

"Huh?" the hybrid quizically replied, having actually gone to the labor to unwrap and eat one right then and there.

She whipped around toward him. "They're coming back. We need to move!"

"Oh, my dear friends, we were always here."

The two looked around at their surroundings, and before their very eyes, multiple Roach ghouls either slunk out of the shadows of buildings or crawled out of the buildings themselves, weapons of all shapes, sizes, and varieties trained on them. One ghoul in particular descended from the balcony of an abandoned apartment, an individual with stylized triangles of orange paint marring her body, armed with a sniper rifle and wearing a helmet that covered her entire face and was dotted with numerous eye holes. Fizzlepop would have sworn she saw a look blending recognition and horror plaster her partner's face.

"It was a trap?"

"No, of course it wasn't. Did you really think we'd send our entire force after you? No, it wasn't a trap; you were simply dumb enough to think heading into our primary territory was a good way to evade us." It was only then that she seemed to acknowledge the Unicorn ghoul's presence. "Oh, and I see you made a friend."

Fizzlepop would have made a remark on how she wasn't his friend, but it wouldn't have mattered either way. They both heard the search party fly in behind them, although one individual stood out from the others; he had no armor and the flesh of his face seemed to have melted over his eyes, giving him a faceless appearance with only his elongated horn jutting out. Even that, however, was not his most identifiable aspect; what was was that he was much bigger than the other raiders, standing at nearly three times their height and twice as long.

"Radroach, knock them both out."

Swifter than she would have expected and faster than she could prepare, the changeling colossus sprinted forward, bringing up it's hoof and knocking her unconscious instantly.
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scorch

Scorch began to rise from unconsciousness, and with a concussive headache that made him wish he wasn't waking up. The left side of his head really hurt in particular; he tried touching it, and all he was rewarded with was an agonizing flare of pain. His vision was fuzzy, but he could see that it was a bedroom, of some sort. He was currently lying on the bed itself, on top of the sheets.

Had he fallen asleep somewhere else entirely? Had the entire experience been just some sort of lucid dream?

He tried to get up- only to hear a sound akin to metal chafing against metal, and something pulled against his neck, strangling him. He sat back down, gasping profusely, and reached up and felt where he had been choked, and touched metal. He looked down, and saw an iron collar locked around his neck. Looking behind him, he saw that the collar had been connected to a length of chain, and that the chain itself was locked to one of many metal bars that made up the bedpost. 

His vision was completely clear now, and he noticed he was completely undressed, his only article on him being his Pipbuck- which was completely unnatural, since he always slept armed, regardless of the situation. He looked around the room, noticing that it was in a run-down condition, with the paint peeling off and chunks of plaster breaking loose. He also noted that the skulls of a few ponies were strewn around the room, likely kept by trophies by whoever had lived- or did live- here.

'So it wasn't a bad dream.' he thought grimly, remembering the events from earlier that day. Looking back, that one soldier had probably been right- although it had seemed like a good idea in the moment, he probably should have considered that they wouldn't send their every asset after him. And now because of it, he and that other Unicorn were now in the Roaches' grasp.

He looked around, seeing if he could find something to break or unlock his collar or chain. Looking around to his full capability, he scanned the room for a tool that could help him accomplish this, and found nothing. He slumped back down in defeat and started to look around again, if only for hoping to find something interesting to sate his boredom. His eyes rested upon a mirror dresser off to the left side of the room, and noticed a sheet of paper face-down on the table part of the furniture piece. Clearly having nothing better to do at the moment, he decided to see if there was anything to read on it, and telekinetically carried it over to him.

The movement from the paper to his talons was wobbly and strained; his telekinesis was, to put it simply, horrible- he could only carry smaller, lightweight objects with it, and even that took tremendous effort on his part. Nonetheless, he still succeeded in accomplishing the feat, and he took the paper in his claws. Much to his satisfaction, it did have writing on it.

Yhuul, my dear friend,

I trust that you are doing well. I wish you luck on your scavenging over in Vanhoover, and I certainly hope you find something over there as valuable as what we have over in the ruins of Canterlot. We've struck gold over here- screw all the talk about the Pink Cloud and crap, what we've discovered was worth it!

I think me and my squadron may have found something that can hand the entire wasteland right into the Wretched Hive's hooves. All I have to do is to get my thugs to contact the Queen; there is no doubt on my mind that she'll be pleased upon hearing what we have discovered. Once she knows, she'd be more than happy to send multiple Bookworm teams our way to help us bring in as much of this stuff as we can.

As for what this is, well... I'll leave that as a pleasant little surprise. Popular talk spreads like wildfire, after all.

Your friend,

Ahkha

What? The Wretched Hive have found something that could make them rulers of the wasteland? What could that possibly be? They already access not only the most tech, but some of the strongest tech out of any organization in Equestria! What is so powerful that they could possibly want? He folded up the letter into a minuscule pad of paper and stuffed it underneath his Pipbuck, making sure it stayed perfectly hidden in-between his arm and the terminal. 

'I need to get out of here.' he thought, his mind rife with determination. Thankfully, if there was one spell he could use, it was teleportation- a fact he remembered when thinking of ways he could escape.

He concentrated on blinking away from his chains, clenching his eyes shut in focus and willing up the energy to tap into his innate Unicorn magic...

...and found himself still leashed to the bed, no further in his plans of escape.

"What?" he said, flabbergasted. "That should have worked... why didn't I teleport?"

"Because that chain is magic-proofed."

He swiftly looked upward to see the same changeling soldier from twice before, smirking at him tauntingly. Granted, she was bereft of her helmet and sniper rifle, but her triangular, orange markings and her voice were the same.

"You didn't actually think we wouldn't take your magic into account, did you? You severely underestimate us, I've noticed. We didn't simply want to cut off your horn, especially given that such a task would be unnecessarily messy- especially given that we have much more convenient ways of preventing our Unicorns from escaping."

She walked over to the bed, crawling onto it and over him, towering over him in his current state. He glanced over to see a cabinet of the mirror drawer open via her telekinesis, and also using her magic, she pulled out what seemed to be something reminiscent of a tiny, metal baton- only for her to press a button on the bar that caused a thin, long blade to spring up.

"I really regret trying to kill you back at the ports... I would have really wasted a truly unique being to share my bed with... however..."

She carefully levitated the switchblade to his throat, keeping it hovering a couple of inches away from his neck.

"I am going to suggest this, more for your sake than mine- you will not try to escape, under any circumstances. You will remain at my side at all times whenever you are not within this room, and do everything I say should I demand anything of you. Otherwise..."

She floated the blade closer to his neck, only mere centimeters away from impaling his esophagus.

"I'm still not entirely averse to ending your life. Your skull would still be an interesting addition to my collection, I will be honest there."

Scorch nodded meekly, being careful to not knock the blade into his throat, and praying his simple-yet-obedient reaction would satisfy her. Much to his relief, it did, and she pulled the blade away and flung it into the mirror, causing the once-miraculously-intact reflective surface to fracture at the point of impact.

"Good. Now..."

He released a sharp gasp upon feeling one of her forehooves brush against... "personal areas", while bringing his head up to hers with her telekinesis to look her in the eye, their horns scraping against each other.

"We're having a little event later tonight that I intend to go see, but I want to see what your made of before we go..."

She briefly ran her tongue along the side of his head before bringing him in for a kiss; one that brought him no satisfaction, for it was as vapid and empty as his forced role.

He would find a way to escape; that was for certain. But he couldn't do it now; not if he valued his life. If he ever found himself in a position where he had such an opportunity, he would take it.

For now, he would satisfy her sick demands- even if he would despise every second of it.

'Every time I'll be forced to bed her is going to suck.'
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fizzlepop

Fizzlepop was in pain as she awoke, her vision blurry and her skull pulsating. She came to her senses quickly enough, though, and saw herself in locked in a cage. Said cage seemed to be within the remnants of an exercise room, filled with twisted, broken equipment meant to build muscle and lose weight. She was only wearing her cloak; her guitar was nowhere near her or on her, likely confiscated from the Wretched Hive. She growled at the theft; she would crush these ghouls like their namesakes when the time came. And that time would come soon, once she escaped from this cage.

"Ah, you're awake."

The scarred Unicorn turned her head to see another in the cage with her- a Griffon, with a long, thick beak, a feathered half with ebony-black feathers, a leonine half with ash-grey skin, and scarlet-red eyes. He had his wings bound to his body with what seemed to be some giant metal cuff, ensuring that he wouldn't fly away(assumedly in a situation where he would have to be moved from one place to another). The tips of his feathers seemed to be graying, and he certainly looked old.

"Where are we?"

"Deep within the Roaches' camp here. This place is set up around an old motel that they decided to repurpose."

"Overnight?"

"Working together can do wonders, I'll give it that."

She turned away, grunting. "Hardly. I've always been better off on my own. I've been like that ever since I was a foal."

"So, you're saying you've survived on your own for one-hundred seventy-five years?"

She snapped her head back towards him. "I never told you that I was a ghoul or alive for that long."

"Yes, you did." the old Griffon chuckled, smirking mischievously.

She was about to object- and she stopped.

She had told him that, just now, by saying that. She buried her face in her hooves, groaning in defeat.

"Oldest trick in the book." the stranger stated, maintaining his triumphant grin. "In all seriousness, you've just wandered and lived on your own all this time? I mean, it's nice just having time to yourself and all, but I don't actively seek out solitude; I accept help whenever it presents itself."

"It's the only way to survive. I learned long ago that you can't trust anypony, and that's even more true now that everyone is either a social Darwinist, in some aspect, or a corpse."

"So that other fella you were brought in with... that wasn't a partnership?"

"Well, alright, it was. But I wasn't naively placing my trust in him, and we were both working toward the common goal of getting out of the area. He had suggested going into the city to evade them- a folly concealed in the plaster mask of a well-thought plan. If anything, this further cements my reasoning for not trusting anyone."

"A 'folly concealed in the plaster mask of a well-thought plan', eh? One that it seems you agreed with, since you are clearly here with the lad- if not in the same place, at least. Riddle me this, stranger- who's the bigger fool, the fool, or the individual who listens to them?"

"I wasn't exactly plenty of ideas myself, and as I had said before, we were working together towards a common goal. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Even if you weren't placing full trust in him, you still trusted his plan enough to go along with it- not to mention trust him enough to believe he'll keep his end of the deal and not leave you to die with these Roaches. A tad contradictory for somepony who's worldview is, 'don't trust anyone'."

Struggling to come up with a reprisal, she merely said, "I do what I must to survive," before turning away from the Griffon again.

A few minutes of silence between them. "So," Fizzlepop asked him, "how did you end up here?"

"I was an on-the-go prisoner; they tried to drag off an unfortunate stallion on their way over here, and when I tried to stop them, well... all I did was get us both captured."

Another few instances of silence. Not even turning to face the Griffon this time, she asked him, "So... now that they have us, what do they do to us?"

"They hold gladiatorial matches with the prisoners they have. They'll be throwing either me, you, or both of us in the pool not too far from here and pit us against one of the drones, who's typically drugged up with something random before the fights even begin. The sucker apparently gets to keep the gear confiscated from the respective prisoner or prisoners if they win."

"And what happens if we win?"

"We don't. If you succeed in killing the first bastard they send your way, they continue to throw fighters at you, each competitor stronger than the last, until you die. How do I know, you may ask?"

He chuckled morosely, until continuing.

"Remember that stallion I mentioned earlier? The one I tried to save? They sent him in. He held his own against as much as a soldier high on Stampede before he died; his last opponent was the force's Twisted, Radroach. The poor kid was too weak to even run at that point... at least one punch was all it took to finally end his suffering."

Fizzlepop's ears perked up. "What's a Twisted, I may ask?"

"Big sons-of-a-guns, warped and transformed by excessive amounts of balefire radiation. From what little I've heard around here, Wretched Hive members who consume too much love from the radiation-afflicted ponies around them become these... though it may be wrong. To be honest, I care less about how they came to be, and I care more about how we could make them cease to be. Preferably involving high-powered weaponry."

Fizzlepop actually knew rudimentary little about the Wretched Hive; all she really cared was that they were easily the most powerful faction in the wastelands and that merely surviving a squadron of one took a combination of copious amounts of firepower, intelligence, and luck- and as such preferred to avoid them at all costs. Perhaps knowing how what little government they had worked would be useful in future encounters- provided she ever escaped from here, which was unlikely, at least as of now.

She heard the clopping of hooves, and the cage was approached by multiple drones, armed and ready to kill if the hostages within tried anything. They unlocked the gate, crowding around the gate and discouraging escape.

"C'mon, you two. Let's go."
> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kenny

The Griffon felt as he was prodded along by the drones both behind him and at his sides, pushed forward through an abandoned swim area toward an empty pool, the Unicorn ghoul he had talked to mere moments earlier alongside him. He looked around to see nothing but cheering and shouting raiders, excited for the violent entertainment they oh-so-hungrily craved.

Well, all but one exception.

He saw a half-dragon, half-Unicorn, his neck bound with a metal collar that was connected to a chain, which in and itself was being held onto by a female raider, armed with a sniper rifle and wearing a helmet that covered her whole face, with multiple eye holes punched into the metal. The hybrid himself had his head downcast, though he didn't seem bereft of hope or will; Kenny could only guess is was merely an act of subserviance and obedience to keep his captor satisfied. The same poor lad that... whoever she was, had worked alongside. Now that he had a closer look at the individual, the Griffon immediately noticed his lack of accessorization, barring the Pipbuck locked to his right foreleg. It wasn't too much of a surprise, really- depriving a prisoner of any means of escape was just common sense, after all.

The raider removed her helmet and proceeded to kiss him lustfully, and while he returned it with gusto, the look in his eyes betrayed this; they had no passionate spark or excitement to them, simply a bland, non-devoted slate, proving that his own kiss was also a facade, only serving the purpose of satisfying his mistress.

He felt sympathy for him. Although he could not pretend to know what he was suffering through, and would suffer through for a good while, he still experienced empathy for the young stallion's plight- and remorse that he was powerless to help.

'I'm going to die here. There will be nobody to save others from the torment that raiders dispense... nobody else willing to help them, to give them hope.'

Although he likely would never say it aloud, he agreed with his fellow prisoner on one thing... too few people in these cold, dark times cared for more than just themselves- too many with potential to do good being converted, manipulated, into the selfish and false ideals of nihilism and sadism.

They were both lead to the edge of the pool. The raiders checked the cuff around his wings before shoving him down into the tile pit. The broken-horned Unicorn followed soon after, thrown into the blood-ridden hole alongside him. He felt a couple of things being thrown onto his head; he opened his eyes to see a plastic syringe filled with Dash and a pill of Buck; the drugs he always carried around with him, and frequently used.

Either they thought he was too weak for a good fight on his own or they had a modicum of mercy, but either way, he was grateful for the gift.

Sitting up, he plunged the syringe into a vein in his arm, and popped the pill into his mouth. Almost immediately, time seemed to slow down, and he felt his strength increase tenfold; he felt as powerful as he always did out in the field, where he could always take them come a combat scenario.

He noticed the ghoul at his left looking at him in shock, and he turned his head toward her.

"Yes?"

"You can take that stuff... and survive it at your age?"

He snickered grimly. "A good combination between balefire radiation enhancing my metabolism and body functions, and having used the crap for most of my life."

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlestallions!"

They both turned to the source of the noise to see that a drone, clad in a cape and wearing an iron helmet with a T-shaped cut-out akin to a visor, perched on a lifeguard tower overseeing the makeshift arena. Although his cape obscured most of his body, he seemed to have orange wave-patterns curling around his chest, from what little of his body was seen.

"We have come here today to witness a fight, for a moment of entertainment, of relief, from our hard work and duties to the Wretched Hive. ARE YOU ENTERTAINED?!"

The entire crowd shouted "Yes!" in unison.

"You're... you're kidding, right?"

"Also yes!"

"Well then, in that case, let's get this match going! And our first contender to enter the ring is none other than Kelly!"

An enthusiastic female drone shoved her way to the front of the crowd, wearing a metal cap locked onto her forehead with a couple of horns jutting out of them, covered in orange eyes and carrying a huge gatling turret with her telekinesis, cackling madly as she loaded a belt of bullets into the clip. Speedily pulling over a syringe filled with Med-X, she plunged it into her jugular artery, filling herself up with the painkiller and leaping into the battlefield, machine turret trained on them.

"Weapons ready, prepared to kill, GO CRAZY!" the announcer declared, and wasting not one second, she sent a stream of bullets towards his ghoul acquaintance.

Tried to dodge she did, but she wasn't even able to move before the turret tore at her front legs, splintering bone and rending flesh and muscle, causing her to collapse, unable to move. While the drone gloated over her victory, Kenny leaped forward, tearing at her face with a claw, but she didn't even feel the attack and merely punching him in the ribs, knocking him back. Sprawled over on said back, he looked over toward... her. Although her legs were beginning to piece themselves back together slowly, she was still crippled. However, the look on her face was one of determination, denial, defiance- and what happened next, he knew, didn't amaze just him.

Her horn crackled with a green energy, for a mere instance, before she left loose with a destructive blast of malachite lightning. Although the combination of the changeling ghoul's regenerative powers and the painkillers prevented any meaningful harm, it still left a blistering scorch mark that bubbled and oozed with the drone's scarcely-preserved flesh.

Her own astonishment lasted only a second- but a second was all Kenny needed. Flipping himself back up, he punched the raider across the jaw, causing a sputter of green blood to fly free from her mouth while simultaneously dislocating her jaw. Once again, the relentless combination of painkillers and regeneration proved effective; she barely even reacted at his punch, even as it unhinged the lower jaw from the sockets, and said jaw yanked itself back into place on it's own. Revving up her turret again, she aimed at the Griffon point-blank, a sadistic smile spreading across her face.

Kenny sprinted away- if not for the hope of escape, then for the hope that the artillery unit would at least do less harm. As the gun fired away, he was able to dodge it at least partially, although it still tore through his body to a great extent. The muscle buildup provided by Buck softened the damage, but at the end of it all, he was still riddled with multiple gunshot wounds.

The Unicorn took her chance again, firing another bolt of electricity at the gladiator, and while it still did relatively nothing, it offered enough of a distraction to get in a claw-swipe at her neck. To his surprise, she actually felt as her throat was torn away, making a brief gasping sound(despite technically not needing air), but the regeneration fixed her esophagus completely.

'She's practically invincible on painkillers; we've hardly hurt her once in this fight.' he thought, his brain uttering the words cold and venomous. 'Of course, the only reason why I'm even fighting her to start with is out of a combination of me not having a choice and me wanting the satisfaction of taking as many of these jerks with me as possible.' He turned his head back toward the Unicorn ghoul he was fighting with, who's legs were still repairing themselves. 'She probably must think that she can still find a way to escape, somehow... a foolish hope. A false hope.' He returned to reality upon hearing the revving of a gatling turret, and seeing it pointed at him, once again.

He flung himself backwards just as she started firing again, and although the Dash and Buck working in conjunction prevented him from dying, he was, at this point, riddled with multiple bullet wounds and was bleeding profusely, coughing up blood in excessive quantities. Nonetheless, he still sprinted toward his opponent and tried to jab her eyes out by sticking his razor-sharp claws into them. Even as her optical organs exploded into green slush, her regeneration replaced them in due time, and even then the painkillers prevented her from reacting. This was still enough of a distraction for Kenny's ally to get a hit in, as he leapt way in time for her to deliver a blast of unstable energy- which still did nothing.

'Okay, this is just getting repetitive.' the Griffon verbally scowled, as Kelly once again prepared her machine gun.

But she didn't shoot.

She seemed to look over the edge of the pool, lowering her weapon, and soon enough, her face melted into one horror.

The other Roaches, understandably curious and confused as to why she had ceased her attack, followed her gaze... and they too fell silent in utter fear. And when something actually frightened the Wretched Hive, you knew it was bad.

He heard galloping hooves, buzzing wings, wheels turning, and wild howls and hisses that weren't that far away to begin with, and that were already coming closer and louder with each passing second.

When the rowdy din was finally upon them, they both saw a carriage speed by, and machine gun rounds went off, though not from Kelly's gun.

Raiders began falling, dead, as he heard more vehicles entering the area and witnessed anarchy take hold.
> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scorch

Scorch found himself being chained back to the bedpost, still collared at the neck and once again sprawled out on the bed.

His slaver had grown bored with the fight, it seemed, and dragged him back up here to her little room. It was a likely unintentional, and ironic, act of kindness and mercy to the half-dragon; he could barely bring himself to look at the three gladiators slaughtering each other.

He prayed for the survival of the prisoners with every fiber of his being, though it seemed unlikely, as the raider barely even acted like they had touched her through the fight, while they themselves had taken a lot of punishment.

As for him, he was being tended to by his mistress, who herself was returning to the bed and forcing him, once again, into a one-sided embrace. She was clearly hungry for more; then again, why wouldn't she be? This was her first day with, as well as one of the few raiders that had, a sex slave, and surely she would take advantage of him every chance she got.

"Ready for round two, handsome?" she hissed, a caustic brew of amorousness and sadism at his plight in her voice.

"I can't say I am... not that my input would change anything..."

"That's right." she growled, pleased at his submission. "Keep up this good behavior, and I might even allow you a few more freedoms under my command... of course, you have to prove consistent in demonstrating your worth..."

She began to bring their muzzles back together for another kiss; another act of desire that sapped his strength rather than bestow it, bringing no pleasure- only a feeling of gray, bland emptiness.

And that's when they heard gunfire and screaming.

The soldier immediately jumped off of him, gathering her sniper rifle and checking it for ammunition before turning back to him, using her telekinesis to undo the lock tethering the chain to the bed, before using said telekinesis to grasp his chain and yank him along.

"Come on. Something's causing trouble down there."

They both ran(he having little other choice to avoid being strangled by the collar) down the flights of stairs, ultimately running out of the vacant lobby wrought with rusted, mobile coat hangers, torn-up check-in desks, and destroyed sofas and into the encampment outside- and witnessed total anarchy before them.

Raiders were scrambling around in a maddened panic, with numerous carriages who were occupied by other changeling ghouls speeding around. 

Scorch didn't exactly see the reason behind the panic. I mean, it was just raiders with car-

One of the vehicles, with a makeshift gunner's turret crafted into the roof, fired upon one of the drones with a machine gun, tearing the raider apart in seconds. His shredded body slumped onto the ground, the only movements being violent twitching, jade blood pooling from his corpse.

What?

That wasn't natural. If there was one thing that defined the Wretched Hive and the reason behind their success, it was their lack of infighting. What reason or benefit was there to divide a faction, and one that works so well, against itself in such a fashion?

He felt himself being forcibly yanked towards a light post, dragged over by his small length of chain. When she managed to get him over there, she locked him to the structure.

"Stay." the soldier ordered, readying her weapon.

"Wait, you're leaving me here?" he asked, shocked- though the reality was, Scorch shouldn't have been too surprised.

"I'm gonna go up on the balcony and nail these suckers from afar! I'm gonna show these Locusts who's boss!"

She proceeded to fly upwards towards the metal catwalks that stretched upward through the condo complex, undoubtedly to stake a position to bring death from above. However, before that could even be achieved, another carriage sped by, this time armed with a makeshift rocket turret. The hostile vehicle fired a rocket upward, and Scorch followed the rocket with his eyes, ultimately leading to his mistress, who was still flying upward when she became consumed in an explosion of fire and debris.

Scorch got down, covering his head to shield himself from any rubble(and stray body parts) that would land on him. He got back up, and looked to his chain. He couldn't unlock it; he had no key or anything to pick the lock, and he had no skill in magic that did the job. The chain itself was magic-proof, so teleportation wasn't an option. And even if he wasn't suffering from malnutrition, he wouldn't be strong enough to pry apart the collar around his neck.

"There he is!"

He turned his head over so quick he himself was surprised it didn't break. Running his general direction were two figures- both of them the prisoners that fought in the arena. He recognized the broken-horned Unicorn ghoul in a heartbeat(he had only discovered she was a ghoul when she recovered from the gunfire in the shootout back at the plaza- before, he had thought she was just a scarred, veteran wanderer), limping severely as she moved forward(her legs likely still healing a little) but the other was one he had never actually encountered. Of course, he recognized the Griffon for his role in the gladiator fight, but nothing more.

The Griffon charged up to him, roughly grabbing the hybrid by his collar- before yanking it apart, much to his amazement.

"Th-thank you. But how were you..."

"Buck can give you the strength to do next-to-anything, kid. Speaking of which..."

He flexed his wings from within the confines of his body manacle. The metal briefly chafed, creaking as they stretched out on his sides, before popping off his body and clattering to the ground, his wings unfurling.

"Mmmph!" He grunted as he took the time to stretch them to their limits, inducing faint cracking and popping noises as he did so. His posture finally relaxed, he sat back down. "Finally! My wings were clamped like that for far too long!"

Scorch turned to his companion, addressing her. "Did you convince him to help us?"

"No. If anything, the opposite was true- he dragged me here to save your rear end. I wouldn't have bothered."

Oh. Hearing that was... disheartening.

The Griffon brought him back to reality. "We need to move. We should get our crap and escape while the Locust Horde is giving them a much more important distraction than us."

Locust Horde... Yhuul had said called the hostiles Locusts as she was departing... perhaps that was what she meant. He had never heard of a subdivision of changeling ghouls that wasn't loyal to the Wretched Hive; perhaps this Griffon could provide some insight on the matter.

"Hey, numbskull, you coming?!" He heard a female voice calling. He came back down to earth to see that the others were already a good distance ahead of him. Cursing under his breath in both annoyance and surprise, the former being mostly directed at himself, he sprinted behind them, following their lead.

They returned to the pool area and proceeded to look around for their possessions, keeping an eye out for both the Roaches and the carriage-riding Locusts to see if they tried anything sneaky while they searched. He himself had been investigating underneath the lifeguard tower when he heard the Unicorn call out to them. "I found our stuff!"

Converging on her spot, he and the Griffon came up to a decrepit, unlocked chest near what used to be a snack bar, and, indeed, many of their items were within- potentially saved as a reward for whoever won.

Although his clothes were not within, likely thrown away(which was currently more of a shame than it typically was, as the violation he had suffered only a few hours ago made him really averse to being exposed), but at least his most important possessions, his combat saddle and Tirek's Middle Claw, where within. 

Also within the chest was a pair of leather pouches, a belt and holster and a revolver that was a spiraling blend of color running down the gun, a tornado of blindingly bright shades of violet, orange, yellow, white, pink, and cyan. The only dull color was on the barrel; black paint had been used to write the word "Vengeance" on it. The Griffon, as soon as he saw it, immediately snatched it from the tub and began inspecting it as thoroughly and caringly as someone else would a foal.

As the stranger tossed and turned the gun in his grasp, Scorch was able to get a much better look at it. On top of the barrel was a maroon triangle pointing downward toward a dial that was divided into six separate spaces; each space had a word written in tiny print within it. The six settings were labelled as follows; "Arcane", "Image", "Morale", "Wartime", "Peace", and "Awesome", with the arrow currently pointing towards "Arcane". While it's apparent owner had it turned upside down, Scorch thought that a different word- "Ministries' "- had been painted on the opposite side, thought it was harder to tell turned the way it was.

Deciding to cease focusing on the revolver, given their environment, he decided to suit up into his saddle and gun. While he did so, the Griffon finally stopped inspecting the gun, proceeding to twirl it around in his hand, giving a brief laugh in satisfaction. "Good thing the bastards barely touched it! I'm telling you, they would have had Tartarus to pay if they had damaged this thing!"

The Griffon snatched up the two bags and his belt and sheathe as well, briefly opening them up before closing them again, smiling in content, and slinging the drawstrings around his wrists. He then put on the belt and slid his gun within the holster.

"Alright then, is everybody done?" the group's ghoul asked impatiently, her teeth bared(you can't really hide much with a cheek torn off). She had her guitar slung across her back; she must have grabbed it and not noticed the action, or even the guitar, for that matter, when he was looking at the Griffon's peculiar gun.

Scorch looked at Tirek's Middle Claw. "I'm down to two bullets, but that's something we need to access later. Until then, I'll just make both shots count."

"And I got plenty of ammunition for Ministries' Vengeance here in my pouches."

"So we're good, then. Alright, let's get out of here!"

And with that, they began hastily looking around for an escape, a way to exit the city. They made sure to try to stay out of sight of fleeing raiders and marauding vehicles that where rampaging across the ruins of Vanhoover; at this point, it had spread far beyond the encampment, as raiders tried to escape the city on both flight and hoof. Nowhere was safe; raiders would be chopped down on the ground, and these "Locusts" seemingly had peerless long-range weaponry, as even when he looked up, he could see ash-grey shapes dropping from a good distance above the city.

They were currently hiding within an alleyway, hiding out and keeping an eye out for a way to proceed with escape. Scorch looked over to outside the alleys, out into the streets beyond. He saw a female changeling ghoul run into his line of sight, only to be shredded to bits via machine-gun fire. A carriage sped by her dead body, it's occupants laughing cruelly. Scorch couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity; even for a raider, dying in such a way was just... eeaugh!

Deciding to take his attention off of it, he looked over to the other streetway, creeping over to the edge of the alley to look around for something.

And that's when he did see something- almost like a blessing from the Royal Sisters themselves.

A military hangar, and from the looks of it, it hadn't even been pilfered by the Roaches yet. Surely their would be some sort of aircraft in there that could get them out of here!

He tapped both other individuals on their shoulders, getting their attention. "Follow me."

They did as he advised, silently but swiftly slinking across the street over to the hangar doors, slipping into the hangar in-between the closed doors.

They entered a wide area shrouded in shadow and darkness, a void in which nothing could be seen. However, all other senses were applicable, and the Griffon quickly made this obvious.

"Disgusting. It smells like something died in here."

"What's your name?"

"What does this have to do with what I just said?"

"I doubt we would do well as a team if I just referred to you as Griffon."

"Fair point. Kenny."

"Well then, Kenny, I should remind you that this is the apocalypse- so something probably did. And... what's your name?"

"He literally just told you his name!"

"I think he was meaning your name, young lady."

"Whatever. Do you actually need my help at the moment?"

"Why, yes, thank you for asking. Use your horn and shed some light around here so we can find the light switch."

"Why can't you do that? You're a Unicorn as well, are you not?"

"Don't you think that if I did know illumination, I would have used it? Besides, it's not that big of a favor to ask."

The room filled with a dim, jade-hued light, lightning dancing all across her horn and mildly illuminating her ruined face as she scouted the room, looking around for the light switch. Eventually, she found it on the left side of the room, near the doors, and pulling it in kind, giving light to the long-abandoned area. Over in the back of the massive room was a massive helicopter, with two pairs of steadying mechanical legs keeping it above the ground.

"Amazing." Scorch baffled, awed. He immediately ran over to it, scanning it over with his Pipbuck for readings. Once he finished, he checked the screen. "Just as I believed- this is a cloudship. A Vertibuck, at that. You'd think that the prospect of a military hangar would excite the Roaches, get them to actually see what's inside, but I guess not."

He ran over a couple of more scans on the Vertibuck, checking on it's condition and ability. "And it's in astonishingly good condition. I don't think it was ever actually used in combat."

"So it'll fly?" Kenny asked, nonchalantly spinning his revolver on one of his claws.

Turning back toward them, he nodded. "All I need is some gas, and it should work just fine."

Scorch had turned his head back toward the Vertibuck, and proceeded to look around for gasoline- when he heard a creaking noise from the other side of the building. He turned over to the entrance, with Kenny and their Unicorn accomplice looking the same way as him, to see the slightly-open doors being pushed apart by a pair of giant, ash-grey hooves, monstrous growls of strain emancipating from the other side. 

'You hold off whatever's at the door!" he told them, returning his attention to the aircraft before him. "I'll get this baby some juice!"

While Scorch worked on finding fuel for the helicopter, Kenny, revolver in talon, trained it on the door.

"Trust me, whatever's coming out ain't even gonna touch you."

As the door gave way, thunderous footsteps rattled the hangar, and Scorch spared a look behind him to see what abomination had entered. 

It was a hulking ghoul that stood at nine feet tall and twelve feet long, with orange splatters dotting it's body. It had a monstrously deformed face, with a mass of flesh melting over it's eyes, to the point where only the muzzle and horn were visible, the latter jutting out of the boiled-over exoskeleton. Scorch immediately recognized it as the Twisted that had knocked him and his ghoul companion out earlier.

"Hey, uh... what's your name?"

"He only told you a few minutes ago!"

"Again, he was probably talking to you."

"Well, does it matter? We clearly have an unwelcome guest that we need to attend to!"

"That's what I'm talking about! Do the One-Two Punch with Kenny! You know, that thing we did back with the group of raiders!"

Kenny smirked mockingly. "You know, for someone who says they're more fond of working alone, you two already seemed to have a little battle technique going."

"That was his idea, not mine!"

Radroach, thirsty for carnage, took advantage of their inaction and, using whatever vestigial remnants of his magic he could access, charged a swirling green energy in his horn.

"So how does this One-Two Punch work, I may ask?"

"She zaps something, or someone, with her lightning, and then the other person attacks it and anything, or anyone, else the lightning chained to while they're stunned." Scorch explained, though he had returned to frantically searching for gasoline and was not facing either of them, nor the Twisted they were facing.

"Sounds like a good enough strategy to me." the Griffon concluded. He pulled back the hammer of the gun, producing an audible click. "We'll show this big crapsack who's bo-"

A pained groan interrupted him, and Kenny looked over to see the ghoul behemoth fire a beam of green energy upon him. Still under the effects of the drugs given to him in the arena, he was able to leap out of the way, the beam only grazing him as it struck the concrete floor, boring through the hardened substance in a hail of fragments and dust upon impact.

Finally entirely focused on their respective tasks, Scorch continued his search for fuel while the other two held the Twisted off. The Unicorn fired a bolt of lightning upon the goliath, stunning it, while Kenny opened fire upon it while the Twisted was incapacitated. 

The bullet was shrouded in a deep purple glow, leaving a slowly-fading trail of similarly-colored light behind it as it flew forth from the muzzle. As it struck the changeling, the point of contact erupted into an explosion of violet fire that spread along the changeling's body, albeit only for a brief instance. The ghoul's exoskeleton healed over only slightly, given it's lack of extensive harm. 

The Unicorn ghoul briefly looked over towards Kenny, genuinely amazed.

"Did your gun just do that?"

"If you like this thing on "Arcane", just you wait to see what else this can do."

The Twisted fired upon the group again, this time aiming at the other ghoul in the room. She was sent flying across the room, slamming into the helicopter at breakneck speeds, although her abilities as a glowing ghoul allowed her to regenerate from her fractured bones soon enough. Getting back up, she fired another dose of lightning upon the brute, causing it to stagger back slightly as green energy danced across it's body. Kenny fired another shot from his revolver, this time blowing off it's front left leg. Although the stump was fixing itself, it was considerably slower than before.

And that's when it did something that caught them both off guard- it proceeded to create a trio of green balls of energy that swirled around it's horn, for an instant, before flying towards them. She took her blast to the chest, but her regeneration allowed her to heal completely, drawing off the balefire in the atmosphere. As for Kenny, he successfully evaded both of them, jumping out of the way and the blasts exploding at either side of him. He recoiled, merely for a moment, as if having a heart attack, before he returned to his stance, gun once again ready.

He turned to his fellow combatant. "Ready to finish him off?"

She nodded, and they both fired upon the hulking raider simultaneously, ending the abomination's life in an explosion of arcane energy, plasma, and green slime.

They both turned towards Scorch, who was just finishing pouring in gasoline for the Vertibuck. He ran in and turned the key in the ignition, causing the propellers to start spinning before turning his gaze to them from within the cockpit.

"You two, man the guns. We're getting out of here."

"You know how to fly that thing?" Kenny asked somewhat doubtingly, nonetheless clambering in, holstering his pistol and grabbing ahold of the turret.

"No, but you haven't either, and I doubt anyone else here is going to offer us flight lessons."

As if to enunciate his point, more feral screeches came from the outside; they had likely heard the shootout with the Twisted and had come to investigate(in spite of being attacked by a much more prevalent force... or were the attackers coming to investigate? It didn't matter.).

The Unicorn ghoul, looking back towards the opened doors once, finally entered the cloudship and took up the other turret. Scorch looked down on the cyclic bar to his right, grasping it in one of his talons.

He prayed to the Royal Sisters that fortune would favor him this time- while simultaneously begging them to not make the situation another cruel joke like the last time he had prayed for their intervention- before turning the cyclic to the right, wheeling around towards the hangar doorway and swiftly driving toward it, just as Wretched Hive began to congregate upon the entrance, the Roaches swarming upon them.

Thank goodness that did what he thought it did.

The helicopter barreled through them with ease, sending them flying out of his way, as Scorch took a turn to the left, driving down the street and into the open area ahead. Turning his head downwards, he looked around frantically for the controls to ascend. He finally laid his eyes upon the collective, grabbing ahold of it and yanking it backward, causing the vehicle to begin it's ascension. Pressing his back hooves down on the petals, he used them to turn the helicopter a full ninety degrees as it continued skyward, facing the east side of the city before he shifted the cyclic forwards, proceeding to fly off.

If he was being honest, he had just been fiddling around with the controls and hoped that it would work, and was grateful on his success in that so far.

He proceeded to fly over the city, continuously ascending into the skies, reaching nearly a mile into the air. He heard the two in the back firing off their turrets; he could only assume more Wretched Hive and Locusts were attempting to board the vehicle, and the fact that they were still flying gave the implication that they were successful in holding them off- thank goodness.

Eventually, he spared a look behind from the cockpit, and saw Vanhoover miles behind them. Kenny and their other teammate had ceased fire, further given the implication that they were in the clear.

He smiled, equal parts triumph and relief. 'We made it. We actually survived.'

He had hardly eaten anything, he was even lower on ammunition than he was before, and he had even endured some nasty wounds today(to both his body and self-esteem), but he was still alive, and at the moment, he was just fine the way it was.

Truly relaxing for the first time that day, he thrust the collective forward, and the Vertibuck began it's slow descent to the barren earth below.
> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fizzlepop

Fizzlepop felt like it had been hours when she finally felt, and saw, the helicopter lower itself to the ground.

'Finally.' she thought. 'Soon, this will all be over.'

She felt a shutter encapture the "Vertibuck"(she had never even heard of a cloudship in her life, despite the half-dragon giving the implication that they were crucial during the times long-passed that she lived through) landed, and without a moment's hesitation, she immediately leaped off, and began walking away.

Of course, as fate seemed to enjoy picking on her, Kenny immediately followed her, calling after the Unicorn ghoul.

"And where do you think you're going, young lady?"

"I was old before you were even alive, so that technically doesn't apply to me."

"At least I look the part. And you still didn't answer my question."

"And here's your answer: away. Anywhere else but here. I thought I made it very clear back in the Roach's camp that I work alone."

"And is that any way to repay the good fellow over there for saving your rear end, twice?" he growled, gesturing over to the aforementioned hybrid, who had gotten out of the cockpit and left the helicopter.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"First, back when he noticed you sleeping in the abandoned port in Vanhoover-"

"Okay, now I know that I didn't tell you that! How did you know?"

"He told me."

"Liar! We were too busy gunning down those bugs for you to actually talk to him for most of the ride, and even when we weren't, he himself was too busy flying the Whirlybuck or whatever the crap it's called!"

Kenny didn't adopt another cocky grin or victorious smile, but the spark in his eyes proved he knew more than he let on. "You underestimate how much happens when your lights are out, my little pony..."





Scorch, earlier in the day...

Scorch's everything hurt, his vision a red haze as he slowly began to awake, the red coming from the pain that wracked his entire body, most predominantly his head. He slowly sat up, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings, and he saw that he was locked into a cage, iron bars surrounding his every angle. He saw that he was in some sort of room; although many of the assets and objects of the room were too mangled to identify, he could identify dumbbells and what seemed to be an elliptical in the vicinity, and he drew to the conclusion of the area having once been an exercise room. He noticed that he was devoid of pretty much everything, minus his Pipbuck; likely confiscated from the Wretched Hive.

"So, he awakes."

Scorch turned to see a Griffon in the cage with him, his wings bound to his body with a giant metal cuff. Although mostly a dull black and grey in coloration, he had vivid red eyes that stood out from his dull plumage. He looked to be in his late sixties, and yet held himself and seemed to be in the physical state of someone half his age. 

"Who are you?"

"A fellow prisoner, an innocent hostage, a wanderer who just tried to mind his own business... all things you can surely relate to or with, I'm certain." the elder joked, a smile plastering his face in spite of his circumstances. 

"I... can, for that matter." Scorch replied truthfully, a soft, small smile of his own adorning his face, the old inmate's own joviality lifting his spirits, if only a little. He looked back out towards the outside of the cage, his smile fading as the dystopian setting around him reminded him of the condition of both him and his fellow captor's condition. "Though I doubt I'll be doing any more wandering- at least, any time soon, if I'm really, really lucky."

"I can't help but notice your little friend here hasn't woken up."

"Huh?"

The Griffon scooted back as far as he could go, and Scorch scooted over some, to see the prone, unconscious form of the glowing ghoul he had partnered with in their bid to escape, also locked into the cage with them. Her veins and empty socket still glowed with the sickly green light of balefire radiation.

Scorch retracted back, guilt flooding him, though not to an overwhelming, despair-inducing extent.

"She was your partner?"

"Sort of." he confirmed. "We were just... helping each other try to escape."

"What happened?"

"I had gotten the Roach's attention and I had found her asleep in one of the carriages; it seemed she had fallen asleep the night before the squadrons and I had arrived. I woke her up and suggested that we work together to escape, and that we head into the city to evade them." He snarled at his own naivety. "In hindsight, my plan was downright stupid; I should have known they wouldn't all go after me, even if I was more important than a mere intruder who had slighted one of their soldiers. And now because of that, I've lead us both to our deaths."

"Hey, hey, don't be too hard on yourself. I certainly see what you were trying to do; trying to hide from them on their own turf; it would most certainly be the last place they would expect." the Griffon complimented, patting him on the shoulder. "And the fact that you woke someone up to get them out of a territory belonging to the Wretched Hive, instead of leaving them to die and save your own hide? That takes guts and heart, and the latter is something I've seen too little of in these times."

"To be honest, it was somewhat ulterior; she looked like a survivor- I mean, look at her. That practically screams badflank wasteland wanderer. I was hoping that her skill would help me escape."

"And she would have escaped as well. You still did the right thing in not leaving her behind."

"Even then, it did us no good; we're clearly stuck here, likely for what little probably remains of our lives."

Silence. It lasted for a few moments, long enough to think that the old Griffon had ceased conversation with him. That was, until he did speak again.

"Sometimes, that's life. Doing good, and yet only being repaid with torment." he turned to the half-dragon. "That was how I got here."

"Really? How?"

The Griffon sighed, though not of boredom or exasperation, before continuing. "I was actually snagged by this band of bastards a week or two ago. They had been trying to mug and drag off a poor colt, no older than a teenager, and I was witnessing the whole ordeal. I refused to let it stand by, and so I flew right in there, revolver in my claw, and I was like, *pew* with one of them," he went on, making his right talon into a revolver-esque position and mock-firing it, "and then I shot another one- I mean, they were all over the place, so I was just like, *pew* *pow* *bang*!"

Scorch smiled; the stranger's recount of his attempted rescue was both amusing him and warming his heart, the former coming from his rather... eccentric description of it.

"And whenever your in something like that, you're always like, 'I got this!' and I mean, I was like, 'I got this!'... but, as you can clearly see, I did not have it."

Scorch couldn't ask anything more, primarily about the fate of the captured colt, as he heard the cage door open. He looked up to see a drone wielding a two-by-four plank of wood, and before he could brace himself or even react, he felt a bludgeoning agony flash across through his skull, knocking him out instantly.





Back to Fizzlepop...

"... so you see, he could have easily left you to die out in the ruins so he could escape; odds are, when the Roaches would come looking around, you likely would have either been asleep or just waking up, and since they were searching around for someone, they would have found you eventually, and you would have been too vulnerable, against insurmountable odds, to truly fight back, let alone survive. But he didn't, and even if you were ultimately captured anyway, he at least tried- a debt you clearly stated you wouldn't repay if I hadn't made you come along."

Still snarling in anger, the old Griffon continued. "Second, he was the one who found the hangar, got the vehicle up-and-running, and piloted it in spite of not even knowing how to get our rear ends out of here. He could have ditched us both then, too, but he didn't. So if you think you're just going to up and ditch him without even showing gratitude for saving your rear end, then you are just as brain-dead as a feral!"

"I work and survive on my own, and that is that! I'm leaving!" she snapped- which she soon came to regret.

Faster than she had previously seen him move, ever, he twisted the nob on his revolver to another setting entirely, before proceeding to fire a shot into her back left knee before she could run.

The bullet tore through her joint with far more power and far more speed than a typical revolver bullet. The shot didn't just fire through her leg; the knee fractured into pieces from the force of the attack, and she collapsed onto the ground with a yelp of pain.

The Griffon loomed menacingly over her, projecting an aura of hostility that she had never felt from the kindly being. "Like Tartarus you are."

Fizzlepop clutched her ruined leg, glaring defiantly up at him. "What- is that- what did you do to my leg?!"

"Wartime- another setting this gun has. Arcane converts the bullets into energy blasts, while Wartime increases the stopping power and traumatic force of it's shots." He aimed the gun down toward her. "A feature I'll happily use on your other knees if you-"

"Kenny, stop."

The both turned to see the half-dragon coming up to them, a stern but calm expression on his face.

"I appreciate your attempts to help, but her unwillingness to help is something we can't change- and shooting her knees isn't going to help in that regard. However," he turned to her, maintaining his expression, "we will still require your help."

"Really?"

She stifled another yelp of agony as Kenny fired a bullet into her other hind-knee, an action that earned the Griffon a withering glare from the hybrid.

"Just... allow me to explain." He proceeded to pull out a folded-up piece of paper from under his Pipbuck, which he then proceeded to unfold into a letter. "While I was being held hostage in the room of one of the soldiers, I found this letter on the top of the drawer. It says that they have something that can use to seize control of the wastes."

"You mean more than they already do?" the old Griffon asked, being passed the letter.

"Even then, what would be in it for me?"

"Think about it; if the Wretched Hive were to obtain total domination over the Wasteland, I doubt they would leave any non-changeling alive, whether they be normal or ghouls. That would include you. You may be a glowing ghoul, but even with your regeneration, you're not invincible. If we were to stop the Wretched Hive's plans, that means everything would generally not die, including you. After that, you can roam and wander the wastes and be as alone as you like."

Fizzlepop mulled over the notion. If the Wretched Hive were plotting to obtain total dominion over the wastes, that would mean that everything that wasn't one of them would likely perish. She had always vowed to be on her own, to not trust anypony, to do things alone... but she was not unreasonable. Even if she tried to stop the Wretched Hive on her own, she knew it would be suicide; from what little she knew of the faction as a whole, she knew that such a feat was impossible, no excuses, given their influence and might.

She nodded. "Very well. I will work alongside you for as long as necessary, and no more."

"That's all I ask." the hybrid stated, before turning his head upwards toward the cloudy sky- which was getting even darker. "We should probably set up camp, get some sleep. We'll need to be at our most rested for our journey towards the Canterlot ruins." He turned toward the Griffon, taking his hand and shaking it. "My name is Scorch, by the way."

"Why are you telling him his name?"

"We're a team, so knowing each other's names are a necessity if we're going to work as an efficient one." Scorch replied. "Now, for what I believe is the third time today, what is your name?"

Fizzlepop thought long and hard. She couldn't just tell them her real name- that would be a fool's decision. She wouldn't trust any of them; cooperation, and no more. She had to think of a fake name, something to go by than her(honestly embarrassing) real name.

She got one. It sounded awfully awkward, but it was better than nothing.

"Eschaton Storm."

Scorch gave her a satisfied smile. "Alright, then. Now that that's out of the way, we should probably build a fire or something to keep us warm." 

Her two teammates began to depart, setting out to look for sticks and stones to build a makeshift fire pit with.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I can't use my back legs."

"You're a glower," Kenny snarked, "walk it off!"





Fizzlepop lay on the barren earth, wide awake, her guitar off to the side. She looked around the general area, lit up by the fire, providing much-needed heat this far north; Scorch had landed the Vertibuck near the abandoned railroad, right were it began to pass through the mountains. Kenny was snoring away, and Scorch had his back turned, breathing silently and steadily. They were both asleep; that was good. That meant no disturbances.

She grabbed her guitar, slinging into off her back and sitting upright, readying it in her grasp. She turned some of the tuning pegs, before giving a few test strokes.

Perfect.

She began plucking at the strings, starting a song, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before beginning.

"I walk through the valley, of the shadow of death,
And I fear no evil, because I'm blind to it all,
And my mind and my guns comfort me
For I know I'll kill my enemies when they come."

Her strokes became stronger, the tune becoming louder, losing herself in the music and drowning out everything else around her.

"Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, all the days of my life,
And I shall dwell on this earth forevermore.
Still I walk beside the waters, for they restore my soul,
but I can't walk on the path of the right, because I'm wrong."

She continued to play, so encaptured in her song that she was unaware of an awake Scorch listening to her, now turned over towards her direction, head raised to better listen to her.

"Well I came upon a mare at the top of a hill,
Called herself the savior of every race,
Said she came to save the world from destruction and pain.
But I said, 'How can you save the world from itself?'"

Still unaware of Scorch's presence, Fizzlepop continued, playing away and preparing for the outro.

"Because I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
And I fear no evil, because I'm blind to it all,
Still I walk beside the waters for they restore my soul,
But I can't walk on the path of the right..."

She took a deep breath, finishing with a mere whisper.

"...because I'm wrong."

She finally opened her eyes again, merely staring at the ground, clutching her damaged guitar. She sighed, merely setting it back down, though still remaining upright herself.

"So that thing is playable."

She whipped her head over to see Scorch sitting upright as well, a small(but still admittingly warm) on his face.

"How long were you awake?"

"I've actually been up since we've all tried to fall asleep; nearly dying multiple times in a single day, as well as being molested, will kind of rattle your nerves."

The latter reason caught her by surprise. "You... what?"

"It's nothing. I take it you can't sleep either, since your clearly up." he stated, brushing aside her own concerns. "You have an amazing singing voice, by the way."

Similarly ignoring that comment(though not for the same reasons that he likely had), she merely asked another question. "So... do you have any ideas as to how we might be able to fall asleep? As you said yourself, we'll need all the strength and energy we can get for tomorrow."

"You could always play us a lullaby on that thing." Scorch joked, adopting another pleasant grin.

She frowned. "I would much rather not. Even if I wanted to- which I don't, to be perfectly clear- any I do know the lyrics to are quite hazy, due to a combination of me not singing them as frequently as some of the others I know and being alive for nearly two centuries."

Suddenly, a loud growling was heard, and Fizzlepop swiftly adopted a combat stance, the shattered remnants of her horn crackling with malachite-colored energy.

"What is it? Where is it?"

"That was me." Scorch admitting, cutting to the chase. "The only thing I've eaten for a good while is a single Twinkie."

Scorch sighed in disappointment... before a look of inspiration crossed his face.

"Why don't we go hunting? I know you don't need sustenance, but me and Kenny do, and since we both haven't eaten in days, we really need it. Once we have enough for a good breakfast, at least, we'll come back here and eat tomorrow. Not to mention, once we do, we'll likely be too exhausted to do anything but sleep." he beamed. "Taking out two cupcakes with one stone."

Fizzlepop gave him a look of bewilderment. "What?"

Scorch shrugged, though he averted his eyes from her own, said eyes taking on a discouraged look. "Pre-war term I learned. Anyhow, we should probably get going."

He gestured toward the darkness ahead, not revealed by the limited light of the fire. "Ladies with illumination first."

Fizzlepop proceeded ahead, her horn becoming surrounded in a ball of sputtering green light as she advanced into the darkness and into the mountains, Scorch following close behind her.
> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kenny

"Where are they?!"

The Griffon jabbed a hellhound dagger into the left lower knee of a changeling ghoul with yellow markings smeared across his body, the latter tied to a chair and propped upright. The changeling stifled a scream of agony as it's joint fractured, the incredibly-sharp blade puncturing through it.

"Tell me where they are, you bastard! What did you and your craphats do to them?!"

The raider didn't talk, so Kenny pressed the blade deeper into it's destroyed kneecap, piercing through it entirely this time. This time, it's attempts to withhold it's agony failed, and the ghoul howled in pain.

"Tell me. Where. They are."

Still no answer. Grabbing the knife with both talons, he proceeded to twist the blade around in place, splintering apart the bone even moreso now. Another yell of pain, this time louder.

Kenny noticed the bones of the ghoul's ankle already repairing themselves, drawing from the omnipresent radiation in the atmosphere to heal the grotesque wound.

"Use your energy-draining innate magic all you want- it won't make this easier for you. Do try, though- it'll just prolong your torment here."

Yanking out the dagger, which was now coated in green, viscous slime, he proceeded to plunge it into his right knee, starting the process anew.

"Alright, I'll talk! The other Hornets are taking them to Dodge City! Home of the Spiders!"

Kenny roared, knocking his captive over on his side, still bound to the chair. The Spiders were the Wretched Hive's trade division; while the Roaches collected the equipment, the Spiders actually distributed the weapons and tech the Wretched Hive possessed, while simultaneously dealing and selling all sorts of illicit trades with other species- include slave trafficking.

His bestial howls faded into a growl of equal parts predatory and vengeful drive. He went back over to his side-turned hostage, yanking the blade out of his kneecap- before slamming the blade through his skull, impaling it to the floor and ending his misery. Kenny turned away, leaving the shed he had been interrogating the raider in, grabbing the ghoul's map of Equestria on his way out and unfolding it. He found his current position, and then Dodge City.

'Don't worry.' he thought, determination dominating his thoughts. 'I'll find you, and I'll save you.'





"Kenny?"

The Griffon had been lost in his thoughts, and the sound of Scorch's voice brought him back down to earth. He realized he had been crushing his radroach in his claws, covering them in green goop and exoskeleton pieces.

"Are you... doing okay?"

Eschaton Storm and Scorch had both seemingly gone out last night and had found a shed full of radroaches in the mountains, and had decided to kill all of them and bring them back as food- the ones Scorch had killed were crushed to bits, and Storm's were pre-fried due to her electricity. The fire was going once again, being used to cook their insectine breakfast on sticks.

For the record, Kenny and, as far as he knew, Scorch, were both fine with eating bugs at the moment; they had both gone days without eating, and what little food Kenny had been given while a prisoner had lacked both taste and quantity. He also noticed that Storm was also munching on some of the radroaches, and given the ghouls lack of a need for sustenance, he could only assume she was doing it for the taste.

"Yeah." he lied. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good." Scorch accepted, before looking down at the radroach remains in Kenny's talons. "You should... probably eat that. We're about to head out soon."

Obliging, the Griffon began chomping down on the crunchy bug. They kept eating until every last radroach was gone, Kenny and Scorch having eaten the most due to their hunger, with Storm herself only having one- again, because she didn't really need it. With their food gone, Scorch smothered the fire pit, his dragon scales preventing the coals from burning him too much.

"Alright, now that that is said and done, we should head to Canterlot and stop the Wretched Hive from whatever they want to do. And thankfully for us, we have a Vertibuck, which should get us to the ruins toot-sweet."

Scorch trotted over to the helicopter and climbed within, himself and Storm following him in, taking their positions at the turrets like they did yesterday. They felt the vehicle shudder to life underneath them, and heard the blades begin to rotate above them.

"Alright! Into the wild blue- well, gray- yonder we go!"

They began to lift off the ground, ascending slowly, steadily, from the earth...

...only for the helicopter to sputter and cough, before rapidly plummeting to the ground only a few feet below.

The impact sent the two skyward, slamming them against the roof and back down into the passenger area. Storm groaned in pain, clutching her head and cradling herself back and forth, fighting off what he assumed to be a thunderclap headache. Kenny was hardly any better- he had a bloody beak(both nose and mouth) and his chest pulsed with agony, the roof of the Vertibuck having made contact with his ribs.

"Hmmm... it seems the Vertibuck had a lot less fuel left in it than I thought..."

"No motherbucking crap, Sherlock!"

Kenny didn't say anything; he was still in pain, and the effects of his drugs had long worn off from last night, so there had been nothing to buffer the contact. Not to mention, he didn't have Storm's regeneration, which probably explained why she had(or was) recovering faster than he.

Once everyone could see straight again, they dismounted from the military aircraft, checking their weapons to see if they had sustained any real damage. Thankfully, no.

"So... I suppose we're walking." Scorch deduced, looking to the east. "I guess it's a really good thing we ate now."

"So I assume we're supposed to walk all the way to the Canterlot ruins?" Storm growled. "No way. If we even were to do so, I doubt we'd be there in time to stop the Wretched Hive from obtaining whatever the buck they're after. I would much rather prefer a way there that consumes less energy and time."

"Well, we may not have a choice," Scorch bluntly stated, frowning, "because the railroad is out of the question, since Vanhoover is likely still occupied by Wretched Hive, and even if we made it to the train station, it's likely been down for centuries- literally. And I sure as Tartarus don't know of any more possible was to get a train or any other faster-moving form of transportation, for that matter."

Kenny's mind began to process things once again, and doing so allowed him to recollect; although he had read few maps of pre-war Equestria, he had read them enough to know that another city existed just south of Vanhoover which was also connected to the railroad- and Kenny could only assume it was just as vacant as Vanhoover was... well, typically was.

"Actually, there may be somewhere we could go to that may have a train."

They both turned their heads towards him, their eyes carrying an expectant glint to them.

"From what I believe, it's a town just south of Vanhoover called Tall Tale, and it should be completely empty, given it's similar distance from the Heartlands. It's connected to the railroads, so there might be a train we can use, and even if there isn't, it should be nearly untouched, just like Vanhoover, so we'll probably find a good deal of supplies there- something else we're currently lacking."

"I should remind you that Vanhoover was another location that is rarely touched by wanderers and raiders, and we had to escape numerous Roach squadrons from that same city. Not to mention, Tall Tale is only a few miles, give or take a couple, from Vanhoover... what stretch is it to assume that they may have gone there, too?" Storm butted in, objecting.

"They gave up chasing us when we were escaping on the Whirlybird, so I don't think they'd bother searching for us. Besides, I highly doubt that they sent extra teams there."

"I should also remind you that that we had machine gun turrets pinning them down as we were flying off, and our flight speed was much faster than theirs- they didn't have much of an option except to retreat. With our helicopter down, we only have a rifle with a couple bullets, an enchanted revolver, and my ruined horn, and we barely escaped that hellhole with those."

Kenny was about to argue, when Storm's eyes suddenly widened, seemingly with realization. She turned towards the half-dragon, who was turning investigating his maroon weapon, seemingly to kill time. He raised his head in acknowledgement of her presence.

"You're a Unicorn that can actually use his horn. Why don't you just use telekinesis and carry both of the turrets around with us? Nobody would threaten a wandering group with two machine guns floating around them at all times."

"About that..." Scorch said, looking down nervously. "I... can't really use magic."

"That's a lie. I saw you start a fire yesterday with your magic, and you used your magic to heal yourself during our skirmish with the squadron when we first entered the city."

"Well, I'm not saying that I can't use magic, but I can't use it for a whole lot. The most I can do are cantrips and small spells, like that combustion one you saw yesterday. As for me healing myself, that was actually my rifle." he patted his gun on the body, drawing attention to it for emphasis. "It's enchanted to steal life force from living things it hits, and uses the stolen essence to heal it's wielder. So yeah, all but the most mundane spells- way out of my league."

"You can't be serious. You don't know a single spell that might save our hides in a fight?"

"Well, I can teleport, but I can only use it on myself, and doing so exhausts me way more than it typically would with a Unicorn- which by itself is next to none."

Storm groaned, planting her muzzle into one of her hooves. Getting the feeling that their conversation had ceased, Kenny resumed his own point.

"Well, it seems we don't really have much of a choice regarding what we do. If we want to get to Canterlot, quick and efficiently, Tall Tale is the best chance we have."

"Very well." the Unicorn ghoul replied, removing her hoof from her face. "Let's just head over there as fast as we can, and get this done and overwith- because we're still going to have to walk, and although it's not as far from here as Canterlot, we'll still need to travel some distance if we're going to get there in a timely fashion."

"Let us begin, then." Scorch stated, speed-walking ahead of them. They were about to follow him- only for him to stop, clutching his head as he kneeled down with a grunt of pain. They both ran forward to brace him, to prevent him from falling. Kenny looked over towards the other Unicorn, her expression... concerned.

That was odd... she clearly had no positive feelings about being on this team; why would she care about one of her teammates as anything but?

Her voice, while considerably calmer than her expression, still carried the same air, if more subdued. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... a migraine."

"Did you slam your head on the roof of the helicopter when it fell?"

"No, no, I had my seatbelt on when I had started it up. Safety first, you know?" He chuckled- although it seemed forced.

He got back up. "Well, we shouldn't stall any longer," he declared, still pressing the side of his head with one of his talons, "we had best get going."

He looked over to Kenny. "Why don't you lead the way? You're... more likely to know where we're going."

And so the Griffon did, marching forward as the other two followed behind him. Even then, however, his task was half-hearted.

He couldn't unsee the look of concern on Storm's face, her willingness to see if I teammate she supposedly only tolerated was okay. That didn't seem natural for an amoral wanderer in the slightest.

'Perhaps... there is more to her than she let's on.' he thought. 'Perhaps... she is more than just a self-serving lone wolf.'
> Chapter 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fizzlepop

The trek to Tall Tale was long and arduous, covering several miles on hoof to reach the ruins. As the three continued to press on through the wastes, Fizzlepop thought back to when Scorch had had his migraine, a few hours before; how he couldn't even walk from the pain. She had gone to help him; not something she typically did. She admitted, she had moments of compassion for those who were suffering that hadn't tried to kill her, and she knew it would likely be her downfall one day; she had to admit, even in these trying times, she still possessed her equinity- a fatal flaw out in the wastes.

Nonetheless, as she thought back to when she and Scorch had first met, out in the field of abandoned carriages and vehicles; thinking back, she realized Kenny had a point; although Scorch's plan was far from well thought-out, he at least meant well, and he had tried to get them both out. It made her realize something; she owed him one.

It felt strange, having technically needed to depend on someone else, in spite of her vows to always be alone. That saying, this team thing was still a temporary thing, and she was already beginning to despise it, but he at least deserved her gratitude.

'I'll thank him once we're on the train, heading towards Canterlot.' she swore to herself. 'As of now, we have much more pressing concerns at the moment.'

"Storm, we're here."

She looked up to see the ruins of Tall Tale up ahead, the skeletons of skyscrapers towering above numerous smaller buildings. They continued to walk within the ruins, beholding the once-luxurious estates surrounding them, now fallen into ruin.

"Stay back, you bastards! Who are you?"

They all stopped and looked forward to see a Pegasus stallion with a black coat, white mane and tail, gray eyes, and an ace-of-spades Cutie Mark aiming an assault rifle at them, grabbing ahold of it with a battle saddle. Scorch and Kenny readied their weapons, and Fizzlepop, having no weapon, decided to take the diplomatic route.

"Don't fret, whoever you are. We're just looking for supplies, and this city's junction."

The Pegasus eyed them suspiciously, said eyes wild and paranoid, still keeping his weapon trained on them. "Just that, huh? I don't believe you, you're lying! That damn dragon isn't going to kill me, and no decoys are going to lure me out long enough to-"

A monstrous screech echoed across the ruins, and a shadow fell upon the Pegasus. As he turned up towards the sky, a large beast knocked him down onto his back, slapping his gun aside with flailing claws. The survivor didn't even have time to scream before the dragon clamped it's dagger-laden jaws into his throat and yanking it's own head upwards, ripping it straight out in a spray of blood.

"Celestia and Luna!" Scorch exclaimed, shocked and horrified, as the three retreated into an alley to hide. Fizzlepop peeked her head around, and was thankful to see that the dragon was too busy devouring it's newest kill to even look around for them.

The creature, as a creature, looked horrible- it had shining, black scales, and had a gaunt, skeletal frame, it's scales drawn tight to it's flesh and bones. It had a pair of thin, forward-curving horns, and thick, triangular teeth. It's wings had a yellowish-green membrane, and it's eyes were green, as well as wild and frenzied in a way that revealed the dragon to be feral. It was about seven feet long; an adolescent.

She turned back to her teammates. "Let's sneak around this thing; it's a feral, so there's no negotiating with it."

Nodding their heads in agreement, they pressed forward through the other end of the alley, she herself following behind them. They swiftly ran into a casino, long abandoned, to hide from the dragon.

They surveyed the area that had taken shelter in. Numerous slot machines and games of chance were scattered throughout the premises, either knocked onto their sides or remaining upright, gathering both cobwebs and dust from hundreds of years of isolation, with no risky souls to satisfy them. Large stages, once places of glory for showmares and performers, now stood empty, nothing but nothingness and the passage of time keeping them company, their curtains ravaged by moths and lights shattered, never to shine again. Walls painted a multitude of bright, luxurious colors were now crumbling, the paint peeling away and chunks of plaster breaking off, further revealing how decrepit this place had become.

But even those aspects didn't catch her eye as much as one other attribute of the room did- that being that caches of ammunition and various food and supplies were scattered throughout the room. It came upon her that somepony had, or was taking up residence here- perhaps that Pegasus that was now dragon food.

"You guys see all of this?"

"Yeah..." Scorch said, his voice seeming, very strangely, not in the moment, especially given that he desperately needed rifle ammunition.

"Well, I sure do." Kenny said, beginning to walk forward towards the jackpot before them. "Although I feel guilty for plundering the poor lad's stuff, he ain't exactly going to be usin' it anymore, anyway."

Kenny began rummaging through the various crates strewn throughout, and as he did so, Fizzlepop noticed that Scorch still wasn't coming near the treasure trove of supplies before him. She turned her head to her right to see Scorch over at a nearby table, sitting down and reading a Playcolt magazine, his different-colored eyes scanning over the article's contents with a very happy smile on his face.

Walking closer just slightly, the glowing ghoul fired a beam of jade-colored energy at the magazine, incinerating it in his grasp instantly and snapping him out of his hormone-induced stupor with a yelp. Clutching the ashes of his read in his talons, he looked over to her, an embarrassed grin forming over his face and laughing nervously.

She merely pointed her hoof over to where Kenny was. "Food and ammunition. Now's your chance."

Neither arguing nor complaining, he bolted over, and also began to stock up, frantically searching for what he needed. She merely watched, needing neither due to lacking both a weapon and hunger. Nonetheless, she wanted to do her part for the team and began to look around for something that could help them through their journeys. Shifting her gaze over to the table in which Scorch had been sitting at, she only then noticed an entire pile of magazines stacked up upon it, and she decided to trot over to the table and look through them; surely more good would come from her searching than Scorch's.

She started by picking up the magazine currently on top, with the cover ripped off and showing a page advertising "Granny Smith's Hard Cider". Ignoring it, she immediately turned to the next page.

Oh, wow. It seemed to be one of those magazines.

Heat beginning to flush her face, she decided to make her investigation through the article a swift one, paying as little attention to the mares in provocative positions as possible as she searched for anything that might be useful.

Okay, she may have lingered on shots that were particularly hot for a moment or so, but that was beside the point.

Having found nothing of value within the magazine, she quickly pushed it off to the side and grabbed the next one. Thankfully, it wasn't another edition of Playcolt, and as she paged through the content before her.

The noise of plaster and metal exploding from the ceiling caused her to turn her head upwards. Gasping, she immediately leapt from the table, before a column of flame incinerated the table and the articles upon it, reducing them to cinders. The dragon from before landed on the ashes, bringing up a billowing, black cloud as it touched down, looking down on a prone Fizzlepop while growling hungrily. The Unicorn ghoul shot a blast of lightning at the reptile, knocking it back and stunning it as electricity crackled along it's body. As she crawled backwards to give herself distance from the feral beast, she took notice that Scorch and Kenny had also realized what was going on, and had their weapons trained on the dragon, ready to shoot if it didn't fly off.

Shaking it's head, the dragon recovered from it's electricity-induced daze- before a bullet struck the side of it's head. Although it's scales prevented the projectile from killing the creature, a small burst of blood erupted from where the bullet had bounced off. As the dragon was staggered by the bullet, a Changeling ghoul flew in from out of the shadows of the building and entered close-quarters with it, moving in a blur, engaging the monster with a shotgun clutched in it's telekinesis. It only took another shot, this time a shotgun shell, to the chest for the hunger-driven reptile to retreat, flying up through the hole it had created, clutching the bleeding wound in it's torso as it flew off.

With the changeling that saved their hides now standing still, catching it's breath, Fizzlepop was able to get a good look at him. He had the ash-grey chitin and glowing, green eyes of a typical changeling ghoul, but he lacked the body paint or the armor of a Wretched Hive raider; rather, he wore the skin, skull and spine of an adolestant red dragon, the skull and face serving as a hood and the body serving as a cape. Now that Fizzlepop had a better look at his weaponry, she saw that his shotgun was fed by a drum; an I-9 combat shotgun, if she recalled right. He also had a sniper rifle slung around his back- undoubtedly the long-ranged weapon he had employed to distract the dragon.

She heard a click, and before anyone could react, Kenny brought Ministries' Vengeance up to their rescuer's head, pressing the barrel against his temple.

"Drop your weapons and get on your knees."

Not saying a word, he obliged, lowering his shotgun and pushing it away with his magic, before slinging off his sniper rifle and doing the same with it. The ghoul crouched down, his face calm even as the Griffon kept the gun at his head.

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Alright then."

It was then that Scorch decided to speak up on the Changeling's behalf. "Kenny, I don't think this is necessary."

"He could be a Moth of the Wretched Hive, for all we know. I never actually thought that they would have sent scouts here, but..."

"I assure you, I am not-"

Kenny punched the back of the changeling's head, knocking him onto his stomach with a grunt of pain, and connected the barrel to the top of his head. "I didn't tell you to speak."

"Kenny, think about it. If he wanted to report back to the Wretched Hive, wouldn't he have just watched the fight and reported our deaths to his superiors?"

"Maybe he's trying to give us false hope, lull us into a false sense of security- that way, they can catch us off guard when they come to murder us. Or perhaps he just wanted to keep us alive just so his fellow raiders would be the ones to kill us. Given that the Wretched Hive are sadistic pricks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was one or the other."

Witnessing the entire discussion, Fizzlepop spoke up. "And what if we were to kill him? We would only risk incurring the Wretched Hive's wrath even more; they would surely come investigate the reason as to why their scout hasn't returned... and as I've said before, Vanhoover is only a few miles from here."

"It'll buy us more time in leaving Tall Tale than simply letting him go, with the added bonus of him not telling them where we're going to. He'd undoubtedly do that if we let him live."

"I can help you."

Kenny fully returned his attention to the changeling at the point of his gun. "I thought I told you not to speak until-"

"Kenny." Scorch demanded, sternly. The Griffon looked up at the hybrid.

"Let him talk; he clearly wants to tell us something."

Snarling, he removed Ministries' Vengeance from his head, but continued to pin his captive down. "Very well; if you have a reason as to why I shouldn't put one in the back of your skull, you had best say it."

"Again, I can help you."

Kenny raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Oh, can you? And how might you be able to, I may ask?"

"I have the feeling that you're just as determined to leave this ruined city as I am."

Kenny eased up his grip on the changeling, his expression and tone softening. "Go on."

"If we work together, we can find a way out of here. There's this old train station in the southern district, and from what I believe, this was the last place that the train stopped by before the railroad shut down. I can't get to the train on my own with the dragon prowling the skies, but with us working together and combining our firepower and strength against the thing, should we need it, we should be able to get to the station and get out of this town."

Fizzlepop could still see that Kenny was suspicious, if only less so. "Even if he were a member of the Wretched Hive, Kenny, I think accepting his help and having a better chance of survival with him around is the better idea as a whole. And to top it all off, we technically don't have to tell him a thing until we can be sure he's trustworthy."

His features finally relaxing into a calm, but nonetheless stern, expression, he got off the changeling he was pinning. The ghoul rose from his prone position, telekinetically collecting his shotgun and sniper rifle, slinging the latter over his back and wielding the former within his telekinesis once more.

"But to be perfectly clear," Kenny growled, pointing his hand cannon at the newcomer threateningly, "if he tries anything cocky or sneaky, I'll nail him on the spot like any other raider."

"I'll keep that in mind." said stranger stated, his voice laced with sarcasm.

A roar echoed throughout the empty ruins- and it was close by.

Scorch took the courtesy to address the obvious. "We should... probably get moving."





Currently at the train station were a gang of Locust Horde changelings, prowling the general area, looking for supplies. A trio of carriages were parked off to the side of the tracks, decked with machine gun turrets fashioned onto the roofs of the vehicles. As for the raiders themselves, there were eight- five drones, three soldiers. One drone had a metal cap that locked over his eyes who carried around a combat rifle, one drone and one of the soldiers had a helmet that covered their faces with numerous eye holes punched into it that carried a magic energy rifle and an assault rifle, respectively, another one had her right eye replaced with a cybernetic that glowed white who wielded a bolt-action pipe rifle and a full belt of grenades, yet another one wore a dragon skull as a helmet and carried a sniper rifle, and another drone had a metal helmet that covered over his entire head(similar to his other cohort, only it lacked eyeholes) who wielded a revolver. As for the other two soldiers, one wore a metal mask that only had a couple rectangular holes for the eyes and carried a rocket launcher, whereas the other had a metal cap that locked over his entire face and was draped in chain, telekinetically wielding an energy rifle.

Fizzlepop, along with the rest of their motley crew, were watching them behind a decrepit, rusty carriage, their means of escape being heavily defended by members of the Locust Horde.

"Surprise, surprise, our one ticket out of here already punched. I warned you two that this would happen." she snarled, though her glare was more aimed towards Kenny.

"Speculating something isn't the same as actually knowing something. Your case was the former, not the latter, so stop complaining." the old Griffon rebuked, pulling the hammer on his hand cannon back before turning the dial to another setting, labelled "Awesome". He raised himself over the carriage, taking aim at the drone wearing the skull on his head.

"Kenny, what are you doing?" Scorch asked, concerned.

"Showing you what the 'Awesome' setting does on this baby."

He fired four magically-charged bullets into the raider, who exploded into a blast of rainbow-colored energy. The blast caused the grenades on the other changeling to go off, causing another cluster of explosions that killed the entire group, obliterating them in a flurry of fire, shrapnel and green-colored gore.

It wasn't often when Fizzlepop had thoughts like this, but... that really was awesome.

She saw the Griffon turn back over to them, the latter adopting a cocky grin as he saw their awestruck faces.

"It lives up to it's name, doesn't it?"

Regaining her composure, Fizzlepop shook her head, just slightly, snapping herself back into focus. "We should probably get onto the train. That explosion probably didn't help us in being covert with a hungry dragon lurking around."

The changeling and Kenny pressed forward towards the now-abandoned locomotive, and as they proceeded to do so, Fizzlepop still noticed that Scorch wasn't moving. She turned her head over to him and saw that he was still standing there with an amazed look on his face, completely zoned out.

'At least he's not distracted by a Playcolt magazine.' she thought as she trotted over to him.

She knocked her hoof on the top of his skull once, emitting a blunt, hollow sound as he came back down to earth, looking over at her.

"Do us all a favor and help the other three find a way to start this rustbucket. I'll be with you in a second, once I'm sure that the dragon won't be on our haunches in an instant.

Giving a nod, he too moved forward towards the train, towards his accomplices.