> Fallout: Equestria - Hellbound Express
>  by TimberLine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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



FALLOUT EQUESTRIA: HELLBOUND EXPRESS


By TimberLine



Prologue

Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria.

There came a time of great advance. An industrial revolution. Technology advanced in leaps and bounds, the likes of which had never been seen before. Creatures from all around worked to build and advance their world. Ponies in particular saw such great advancements to ease there lives and find better ways to produce. But with such great advances comes great consumption. Once plentiful resources soon became cherished rarities. War became inevitable, as two superpowers laid siege, their lust for coal and gemstones becoming a matter of life and death. Until one day that lust would consume the world.

*    *    *

Tick... tick... tick... 

The quiet was deafening in the small office with the only noise being the marking of time. 

Tick... tick... tick...

Railright made an agitated sigh as he sat at his desk, nothing more then old twisted two by fours covered with plywood, so beat up it was swollen and peeling away. Forms, figures, manifests and grievances were rising up around him. Pencil in mouth he tried to work through the demands of holding together a small settlement from his perposionitly small office. Nothing more then a few boxcars bolted together made up, for lack of a better word, town hall. It consisted of sheriff’s office, jail cell, records keeping, tax collection and his personal residence. It had a constant scent of rotting wood and heavy stale air. The small hoof full of working lights cast a yellow tint throughout the car. Railright glared at the clock leaning slightly to the left on a old bent nail. 

Tick… tick… tick…

“I am not in the mood for this.” He grumbled around the pencil. Feeling annoyed, it was only 10:36. Late, but not horribly so. Between the eerie quiet, and that damn clock constantly ruining his concentration with its incessant, repetitive clicking, he couldn’t focus. An itchy tingle kept picking at the back of his mane.

Spiting the pencil out he admitted defeat. “Alright I’m done.” Getting back to all fours he walked through the office.

Walking out onto the wood slat walkway that ran down the front of several rail car buildings, he couldn’t help but feel the whole town seemed uneased. Few ponies were out in the darkness of tonight. Even the dark seemed darker, the inky blackness only broken by the occasional light coming from a few windows around the town. The few makeshift lanterns that served as street lights only seemed to illuminate a misty haze. It was neither a drizzle nor was it really a fog, it was more of a greenish murk, obscuring most of the town. It's presence was only overshadowed by the yellow tint of the street lamps. Railright could already feel the bitter orange taste of a Rad-X he knew he would have to take later.

Taking stock of the town, pony traffic seemed very light, even for this time in the evening. Black silhouettes of guards could be seen patrolling along the top of the railcar and container perimeter.

Absolutely Everything was dark, save for the dim light coming from a backroom. Ditzy-do must still be working on something. Probably special edition’s to her Wasteland Survival Guide. He knew that not to long ago she had come out with the Hoofington edition. He was willing to bet that this one was either going to be for Manehattan or traveling the Big 52. It occurred to him that she probably never sleeps. Poor thing, he really felt sorry for the poor mare. What a kind soul she was, willing to spend her time helping to make sure others stayed safe.

Railright continued his slow walk around the town. Looking down, his eyes focused on the wet gravel and dirt, turned mud below his hooves. Small trickles of water moved and pooled around the small rocks. With the wet mist dampening his mane and coat, damn, tonight was just shitty. Everything about this life just left you with a shitty feeling.

Turnpike Tavern was open, but judging by the voices coming out of the establishment and the silhouettes, there only seemed to be a hoofful of patrons tonight. Even the music drifting out from the cracks in the walls and the makeshift door seemed slow and down beat. Six String and Drum Sticks sure knew how to play to the mood. Their music had an almost mourning tone to it.

Another shiver ran down Railrights spine. He flicked his tail against his sides to try and calm his tension.

An older black and grey stallion wearing a beat up and equally old black cowpony hat as well as a brown duster was pushed out from the saloon yelling with a drawling twang “Change your ways heathens, or Celestia as my witness, you will burn!!”

“Shut up you old coot” a voice hollered back from inside the saloon, Followed by laughing and a few more comments, that if said to Railright, would probably end in a hard right hook.

“SON, THE GODDESS HAVE GIVEN ME ENLIGHTENMENT!! HEED MY WARNING!! CHANGE YOUR WAYS OR FACE ETERNAL DAMNATION IN BALEFIRE AND BRIMSTONE!!”

“PREACHER!” Railright yelled trotting up to the older stallion. “Quite your ramblings! I’m about to lock you up for being such a bother!”

With ears folded back, Preacher turned to face him “Sheriff, how can you let such villainy exist in your town.”

“Enough Preacher!” Railright cut him off before he had a chance to launched into a monologue. “I think it’s time you bed down for the night.”

Both ponies stared with hard eyes, but Preacher broke first. “Very well then sheriff. I will continue the goddess’s work in the mourning, once the goddess Celestia blesses us with her light once again.”


Railright scoffed at that one, but turned and continued his walk. “What light.” He grumbled to himself. He had never seen the sun or felt the warmth of its rays. The cloud curtain was as sure as radiation itself. Ever present, and ever casting its gloom over this desolate shit hole.

Preacher drifted into town a few moons back, and since he was mostly all talk and normally wasn’t too much of a bother, Railright permitted him to stay. But truth be told, when Preacher finally decided to move on, Railright would not lose any sleep over it.

Silence once again returning to Railright ears as the crunch of gravel under Preachers hooves slowly faded. He made his way to the train yard, hearing the muddy, wet gravel crunch under his own hooves. The itch in his mane returned along with a knot in his stomach. This feeling of unease gnawed at him the closer he got to the rail yard.

Up ahead was the main line track that ran through town, from Ponyville to the rest of Equestria, through New Appleloosa before continuing south, up a mountain grade, toward old Appleloosa. Two siding tracks ran next to the main line for loading rail cars. with a large, rusted crane in between tracks 2 and 3. Track 4 was a RIP track had been made to allow for maintenance to be done. Track 3 had a string of rail cars on it. Three flat cars loaded with logs and a few wooden barrels and crates, two box cars with crates of homemade barding, along with some gun parts and one passenger car with a caboose at the end. His sad excuse for a train was older than antiquity. All his cars were small, single axle boogie sets. Although the paint had long since faded away, they still kept the decorative trim from when they were in service before the industrial revolution.

The shadow of a large unicorn pony wearing a yellow hard hat could be seen milling around, checking tie downs and doing last minute checks. Crane must be working late tonight, getting ready for tomorrow’s run.

Their rusted down, sad excuse of an engine was sitting in the round house with the nose of the boiler, cattle catcher, and heart shaped light poking out. There were two other engines with the same 4-4 wheel configuration in the round house, but one with missing drive wheels and driving rods, while the other didn’t have a cab. 190 some odd years had not been nice to these engines, but if he had to use three engines to make one work, then so be it. These engines were pre-war, hell, they were even pre-industrial revolution.

Crane and Torque were decent mechanics, it’s just at some point, things break and can’t be fixed. They still had a few fire talisman’s left to heat the boiler with, but those would eventually die, and it would be back to pulling the train with pony power. Fire talismans were very hard to come by. He was just thankful to have gotten a water talisman.

A rush of air and the crunch of gravel told him some pony had just landed behind him.

“Railright, hell itself is rolling down those tracks, probably a mile out. They have come back.” The pegasus said, with a his twanging accent.

Railrights ears perked up at the news. He turned to look at the young, rust colored pegasus with a large brown cowpony hat and twin rifle battle saddle.

“Calamity.” Railright said. “Do a fly over to the gates, let them know it’s coming, and to open up. DO NOT SHOOT!” he stressed. Staring him down. “Not another shootout!.” Calamity ears folded back as he glared. Then mumbled something about slavers deserving nothing less than a bullet.

Calamity had only been in town a few moons. And in that short time he had left and come back a time or two. Calamity had said he had come down from the clouds only a few moons before that. When Railright had questioned him on his story, all Calamity had said was there was nothing worth his time up there, and how the Enclave were a bunch of cowards.

Railright had gotten annoyed by the pegasus’s blunt demeanor from time to time. It didn’t help that he had a knack for blowing things up, but besides that, Calamity was a good hoof to have. Honest and hardworking, Railright needed more ponies like him. But when Railright told him he could be a permanent resident, the pegasus had declined. That had caught Railright off guard. Said he wasn’t keen on staying put too long. Railright thought there was more to it then that, but Calamity didn’t elaborate, and Railright didn’t press. Hoping that with time, the pegasus would find no place better.

From out past New Appleloosa town limits, deep in the darkness of the wasteland, the loud sound of a long, low train whistle shattered the silence. Not the high pitched, almost cheary whistle his engine made, but a deep, low tone the seemed to echo in your ears and tighten around your soul. It was the warning that pain and suffering was rolling down on top of you.

The guard ponies, and few work ponies in the yard, froze and looked toward the sound.

The moisture in the air seemed to have become 5 degrees colder. Railright looked from the trouble coming their way to other end of the rail yard, where the track continued up the hill to Old Appleloosa, and could only imagine how many lives were at the end of that track, about to be shown what true pain and total loss of freedom really were.

The unofficial mayor turned back to Calamity, who replied simply “I reckon everypony already knows”

Railright narrowed his eyes at him. With a quick nod and a few pumps of his wings, the pegasus took flight.

Railright watched Calamity moving across the yard. Losing him for a second as Calamity flew behind the large crane sitting at attention over the railyard.

He stood off the mainline looking down the track that ran under the perimeter wall of cars and scrap iron. A flat car had been placed on its side sitting on a set of rollers. As the car/gate was rolled open, light flooded down the track and into the railyard from the lamp mounted in front of the boiler. The ground started to tremble as the monstrous machine moved slowly closer. Small pools of water began to ripple as the locomotive pulled into the yard. He had seen this train many times before as it stopped in new Appleloosa each time before heading up to old Appleloosa. Yet he was never truly prepared for what he saw.

A deafening blast erupted from the sides of the engine as great white plumes of steam billowed around the train, making it harder to see, save the beam of light cutting through the cloud. As the engine slowed to a crawl, emerging from the gates through rolling clouds of steam and coming into the dim lights of the rail yard, it revealed itself in its entirety. Gigantic in size. The engine alone must be 16 feet tall and at least 70 feet long. All black save for the polished steel that made up the driving rods.

The steam locomotive was a 4-8-4 wheel configuration. Two sets of smaller guiding wheels under, and directly behind, a large, broad cow catcher, almost comically small in comparison to the rest of the engine. These were followed by four sets of driving wheels, each of which were taller than a regular pony. All linked together with heavy steel driving rods. Finally, two more sets of trailing wheels sat under the cab. The faded number 3133 was barely visible under the cabs window. A massive boiler, 8’ across, sat above the driving wheels with a walkway running down the sides from the nose to the cab. Large sheets of flat steel covered the front third of the boiler on the outside of the catwalk, looking like a grim approximation of blinders some sniper ponies used. Hanging off these panels was a painted canvas banner colored in a crimson red with a single eye painted on it.

At the front top of the boiler was a short round smoke stack billowing out thick clouds of smoke in shades of deep purples and necromantic greens, with ribbons of pink that twisted and rolled up toward the sky. It was as if the engine was run on the burning of pony souls. Occasional spurts of glowing red embers would arc through the air, fall across the boiler, and proceed down to the ground, where they were extinguished in a hiss of steam on the wet gravel.

The engine was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The rhythmic motion of the driving rods passing one another and the sliding of the drive piston was truly hypnotic. It was a true testament of earth pony engineering, and an enormous display of Red Eyes power. To not only have the power of manufacturing, but also the requisite logistics. Being able to move anything almost anywhere in no time at all gave the slaver leader a massive advantage over other factions in the wasteland. And Red Eye knew this. Its what helped build up his empire so quickly. Sending the train out to bring back scrap iron, food, medical supplies, tech, and ponies. Lots of ponies.

Regular slaver caravans could bring dozens of pony slaves in. One train load could bring in hundreds of slaves. All to work and die at the Fillydelphia Fun Farm. Many slaves never even survived the journey, leading to the train being named The Hellbound Express.

Railright took a few steps back as the engine rolled by. The rhythmic dinging of a brass bell and steam blowing out from the drive cylinders and floating above the ground before settling at his hooves. Looking up at the cab, the fires of hell itself seemed to have come unloose. A black silhouette of a pony was in the cabs window. Flames were licking up in the air in the cab. The demon pony looked down at him with what looked like fire reflected in his eyes.

Uncontrolled fear gripped Railright as he felt his heart stop and the breath be taken from him. Eyes wide, he took 3 steps back before tripping over his own hind legs and landing his rump in the rocky mud. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered “The devil has come for you. Time to atone for your sins.”

Fighting against his instinct to flee, Railright closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Trying to still his racing heart, he refocused and calmed himself. Now was not the time to show fear.

As the engine and its massive tender of seven axles rolled by, it was followed by a flat car loaded with rail ties and sections of railroad track. A large track mounted ponytron was chained to the end of the flat cars. Sporting two large arms, each capped with a minigun. Four double decker passenger cars showing their age followed. Cancerous rust ate at every corner of the cars, with plates of steel being used to patch holes. Long faded markings could barely be seen on parts of the last three passenger cars that were still original steel. Some letters could even be made out. Remnants of the cars’ history, trying not to be forgotten. The words “Hellbound” had been spray painted in a deep blood red, followed by the word “Express” in elegant script that was original to the car when it had first seen use.

Light shown through some of the windows, but nopony could be seen. The last passenger car was void of windows, but had a large sliding door on the top and bottom levels. To the right of the upper level door, there seemed to be an imprint in the steel in the shape of a pony. Railright cringed to think of how that gotten there, and what became of the poor pony.

Next were four container well cars with double stacked containers. The top containers had platforms coming out of each end, almost meeting the platform from the car in front and behind it, making it easy for a pony to walk from one car to another. Again, these containers had seen better days. Light peeked through round holes of different sizes all over the containers. Again, each upper level container had barn style sliding doors for easy loading and unloading.

Three more empty flat cars, save for the two large track mounted ponytrons, one placed at each end of the first flat car, followed. Each ponytron faced opposing sides of the car. Railright once had the idiotic notion of trying to take the train for himself, but that thought had been quickly scrapped after he saw the robotic armament mow down an attacking band of raiders. One thing was for sure, this train was well armed.

Three open gondola cars for scrap metal came after this. Finally, at the back of the train where the slave cars. Old converted cattle cars, covered in coils of razor wire with rusted patches of steel over some of the larger holes. Dried blood and shit stained the sides of the car. The stench of decay and disease hit Railright like a buck to the muzzle. He wrinkled up his nose, trying to push away the horrid smell.

No light or sound came from the slave cars. That would not be true when the train came back this way.

With the last screech of metal on metal breaks, the whole line of rolling death came to a stop. With the final clanking of steel as the slack between the cars compressed then relaxed. A loud hiss of steam erupted from the other end of the rail yard where the engine was nosed up to the south gate. The final knocking of air brakes worked there way from car to car in quick succession, giving the final notice that The Hellbound Express had arrived.
> Ch 1 In Bound
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter One



In Bound




“Blood will be spilled. Lives will be lost. Fortunes will be made. Men will be ruined”


 -Thomas C. Durant



“Sleep? Pussy? Drink?” Overdrive thought to himself, As he packed some Ursa Major wintergreen long cut into his right cheek. They all sounded good to him. But fatigue was pushing at the back of his eyes and it had been a long day. He snapped the can of chewing tobacco shut and putting it back into his saddle. His day was going on eighteen hours and they were just now getting into New Appleloosa.

Their little detour to drop off one of Red Eyes Stable Infiltration teams, Team 4, at the base of the Canterlot Ruins had taken more time then it should have. The Canterlot line was long worn. Years of pink cloud had warped and softened the steel track. Overdrive brought the train as far as he dared up the mountainside before the rail started folding under the engine’s weight. At that point, it was up to the infiltration team to hike the rest of the way into the city. Then came the arduous task of backing the quarter mile long consist back down the mountain and back on the main line.

The rain had suppressed the pink cloud enough that it was almost survivable to go into the city. Still, that was a grim fate. He would be surprised if he ever saw those ponies again.

It was just there luck that once the heavy-armed, shoot first ask question later, team of killers had disembarked the train was when Hellbound Expressed had gotten attacked. And of course, it was while going through the raider den of Ponyville. Even with the station on the outskirts of town, those fucking bastards had layed in wait to ambush them. And no matter how many they killed, more seem to attack with each pass through town. This time, a few even managed to get on to the train. They were quickly shot down or just fell off, but never the less, they couldn’t let it happen again.

They did lose three of the six FNG's. Ponies fresh on the train with no experience or slaves that have earned freedom from The Farm. Overdrive was not surprised. FNG's from Fillydelphia never seemed to last long for some reason, whether it be by attack or accident. They would last maybe a few trips at best. Hellbound Express was a dangerous living, it was like the engine itself came up with new ways to help ponies leave this world. Except for the full-time crew. But none of them were from Fillydelphia. Strange, the engineer thought.  Shrugging off the notion and getting back to the priority at hoof.

“Pussy, yeah, pussy first, drink second, then sleep.” A smile crossed his muzzle at the thought. Sitting at the engineer’s controls on the right side of the cab of Engine 3133. He spat a stream of thick, dark brown saliva out the window and rested his right foreleg on the window sill, enjoying the cool night air that flowed into the cabin and helped offset the heat of the boiler. Face covered in sweat and soot, he looked out into the darkness. Black shadows of rocks and long dead bushes just barely appeared through the fog and mist that rolled past him as the train made the final few miles into town.

Overdrive was a tan, sand-colored earth pony, with a short cropped dark brown mane and tail, and deep green eyes. He wore a ball cap that had the logo of the Equestrian Transcontinental Railroad on it. A large shield with a small “E” on the lower left, a large “T” right in the middle of a shield, and a small “C” in the lower right. He wore a combination battle/utility saddle. On his right side was a 7mm long rifle. On his left were tool pockets and an oil can. It’s never wise to be unarmed in the wasteland. And he was a pretty good crack shot at picking targets off at five hundred yards from a moving train. The rare moments when he took the saddle off you would have been able to see a X shaped railroad crossing sign on his flank.

“Well fuck.” He said with a strain as he stretched his back, being rewarded with a few pops. “Agh” he grumbled while he prepared himself to get back to work and bring this few thousand tons of steel to a stop. He looked over to his left at his fireman, Whistles.

Whistles was a white unicorn with a long, striped, black and yellow mane and a steam whistle for a cutie mark. The unicorn had dozed off in his chair leaning against the left side cab window. His utility saddle laying on the floor behind his seat. It was loaded with a small assortment of tools, an oil can, and a semi-auto combat shotgun.

Overdrive always nagged at him to get a rifle, or something for long-range shots. But Whistles always said that was what the tri-barrel energy cannon on the tender was for, and if raiders got in the cab, they would be too close for him to use his long rifle. Whistles shotgun was better for close quarters, and Overdrive found it hard to disagree with that point. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, they had never been able to put that to the test, seeing as nobody had ever made it into the cab before.

Overdrive looked over at the sleeping unicorn and pulled out a 10mm socket from his saddle. Pausing for a second, he decided it would be better to switch to a 5/8 wrench. Had more heft to it, and 10mm sockets were always hard to find.

With a flick of the wrist, the wrench flew across the cab and hit Whistles right in the neck!

“Fuck!” Whistles yelled, “What the hell man.” He began rubbing the side of his neck with a hoof.

“Wake up! We’re coming into New Appleloosa. And you should be paying attention to the water level.” Overdrive said.

Whistles horn light up with a yellow glow of magic as he levitated the wrench into his own saddle then looked up at the sight glass. The water level in the glass indicating they still had about a third of a tank left. “Hey man, it's just under half. We wouldn’t have boiled off that much since the last time I checked it.” He said in that slow, easy, monotone voice.

“And the tri chocks?” Overdrive said with annoyance. Whistles laid his ears back flat then rolled his eyes as the upper tri chock valve was opened, blowing steam into the catch pan. Opening the middle tri chock unleashed a mixture of steam and water, while the lower tri chock blew out hot water into the catch pan when it too was opened.

Whistles glared back at Overdrive but said nothing as he went back to leaning on the window frame and staring out into the wet darkness.

“You know what happens if you get dirt or sediment stuck in that gauge and it gives you a false reading?” Overdrive warned. “You boil off all your water. You could permanently damage the engine, or worse, blow our ass up if steam pressure builds too high.”

“Relax bro, the boiler is 8” thick. An anti-machine rifle couldn’t penetrate that. You worry too much.” Annoyed, Overdrive knew he was right about the sides of the boiler. But the firebox was the weak link. If there was a rupture, it would dump all that pressure into the cab. Luckily, that would take about 600 PSI, almost double their normal working range.

Overdrive looked back at the wall of gauges, valves, and levers. The front wall of the cab had two rectangular windows that looked forward down the catwalk alongside the massive boiler. The engine’s huge firebox protruded into the cab, looking like a large upside-down U that went from the floor and almost up to the ceiling with a bright firelight beaming out between the opening on the firebox door. Pipes and hoses snaked their way all along the top and down the sides of the boiler. Right within Overdrives reach, half a dozen levers gave him total control of the train’s movements. Engine brake, train brake, speed control, sanding knob, bell knob, and throttle.

What was not part of the original engine was an advanced defense model Eyes Forward Sparkle, originally used by the Equestrian Army in their tanks and Armored Pony Carriers. But unlike pipbuck EFS that only worked with the pony who was wearing the pipbuck, this allowed any pony in the cab EFS to see if there were any surrounding threats.

This multi pony defense system also came with a two-way broadcaster that would communicate with the rest of the train, and his favorite, a radio. He loved listening to Radio 52 or the smooth voice of Mr. Newhaggus when they were in range. But that had been a while ago. Since they started this dedicated run from Fillydelphia to Old Appleloosa, it has only been able to pick up DJ Pony and his 12 songs. And DJ Pony did not have a favorable opinion of them.

Checking his gauges, the boiler pressure was sitting around 255 psi. A bit high for his liking being they were slowing down, and more than likely everything was going to start being shut down for the night. He reached out a hoof and dropped back on the speed control about two notches and pulled back on the throttle. He then began to pull back on the engine brake lever. 

Driving a steam locomotive was just as much of an art as it was a skill. Overdrive felt the slack take up in the cars and start pushing against the engine. Watching his pipe pressure gauge, he slowly started pulling back on the brass train brake lever. Adding a little bit of sand to the rails with a few quick bursts of the sanding lever, he felt the engine shutter a little as the wheels gained a better grip on the tracks, causing the whole consist too began to slow. Checking the speedometer, he saw that it had dropped from 40 to 32mph.

Grabbing the whistle, he let 3133 scream out one long, deep-toned whistle. Sticking his head out the window, the cool night air chilling the beads of sweat on his forehead, he got a better look down the tracks and saw the lights of the New Appleloosa train yard.

Pulling the speed control all the way back into the second notch he started applying just a touch more train brake. He watched as the speedometer crawled its way to 20 mph. Unfortunately, he also watched as the boiler pressure rose to 275psi. 350psi was where the red line started, with the gauge topping out at 400psi.

“Hey, kill the talismans and let them start cooling off.” Overdrive said to Whistles over his shoulder. After he didn’t get a response he looked over and saw that Whistles had dozed off again. Biting his lip in anger he got down off his seat and apple bucked the unicorn hard in the side, slamming him up against the side of the cab.

“AGH!!” whistles howled in pain!!

“You lazy mother fucker!! We are pulling into the damn station!! Shut those fucking talismans down NOW!!” Overdrive yelled. The day had already been too long, he didn’t need any more of this shit.

“Alright!!” Whistles snapped back. “Its just been a long day ya know.”

“Shut up, it’s not like you ever left that spot. You never even fire a shot while going through Ponyville. So shut the fuck up and do your job!” Overdrive retorted.

“Goddess man, when was the last time you got laid. You’re cranky. You need to lay some pipe. You know. Play eight horseshoes. Calms any pony right down. Makes you feel good.”  Whistles said as his tone and mannerisms went back to there normal slow, soft, easy going patterns.

Overdrive sat back in his taped up engineer’s chair, pressing on the steam dump valve. An eruption of steam blasted out from either side of the engine, tapering off just as the engine was starting to pull through the gate.

Overdrive watched the pressure gauge fall to 211 psi, wondering to himself “When was the last that time I’d gotten laid. Two, maybe three days ago? Humm… been too long.”

It had been three days. That new mare in warehousing. She had been a recently promoted slave. Goddess, what was her name? She was pretty good. She had even gotten a bath recently, having been promoted and all. Clipboard! That’s is. That was her name. Nice girl he thought as he rolled past the main gate.

He didn’t mind New Appleloosa, his only problem with it was its lack of a brothel! But the fact that Candy lived here more than made up for that. He had a fancy for her. Not enough to make him settle down, but he cared more about her than other mares he had gone to bed with. She was none too pleased with him right now though. Not after Half-Cocked had run his mouth about other mares he had been seeing. Overdrive almost knocked his front teeth out for that cock block.

Whistles had climbed down from his fireman’s chair trying to look through the slots in the firebox door. Magic glowed around his horn as he tried to manipulate the talismans. Grumbling to himself Whistles swung the firebox doors open.

Whoosh!! A column of flame shot out of the firebox, crawling up the head of the boiler and rolling across the ceiling of the cab. Extinguishing itself before doing any real damage.

“Holy goddesses!” Whistles yelped as he was knocked back onto his flanks. Smoke whiffing off his white hide which was now more a soot black color.

Overdrive just sighed, rolled his eyes and turned to look back out the window.

Standing in the rainy mist was a grey stallion that just seemed to plant his tail in the mud. Overdrive thought it odd that Railright would be out and about this time of night and in these less than ideal conditions.

Whistles had gotten back on his hooves and made a second attempt at the firebox. Slowly, the burning inferno started to die down until it was just a faint glow.

Overdrive leaned out the cab and could see he was closing in on the south gate. Pulling the speed control back to the 0 notch, closing the throttle and releasing the train break, he let the consist coast the last few hundred yards into the town. Once he was a railcars length from the gate, moving at around 3 mph, he set full engine brake and brought the train to a stop. Smashing steel knuckles chimed in session between the cars as the train slacked up then relaxed again. Applying the train brake, a sensation of sweet relief and fatigue washed over him as he took a deep breath and relaxed into his chair. His job was done. He had brought the train and its pony crew into New Appleloosa.



***       ***       ***



A ribbon of smoke rose up from a burning cherry, slowly turning paper and tobacco into ash as it crept up the cigarette. A small grey earth pony mare, wearing a tattered purple bandana over her cream-colored mane. Large round glasses that magnified her eyes, she sat at a recovered steel office table.

An old fluorescent light hung on a chain from the ceiling, casting a yellow light throughout the shipping container. The dirty plywood floor and corrugated steel walls were offset by pre-war works of art gathered from around the wasteland that decorated her office. Sitting toward the rear of the container, a spiral staircase lead to a second container above this one. Toward the front of the lower container was a secure storage area. Talismans, chems, and artifacts were stored under lock and key behind a chain link gate. 

Shadows rocked back and forth across the walls as the lights swayed to the movement of the train. The small mare took drags off the cigarette and watching the smoke float up and curl around the light fixtures. 

Papers listing the large variety of inventory layed out in front of her. The open cabinets above the desk loaded with binders. The spines reading "payroll", "operational costs", "inventory price analyzes" and other mundane ledgers. Rows and rows, pages and pages, books upon books of numbers. 

Porter loved numbers. They never lied, always predictable and to the point. She knew how to work them, balance them, play with them, and most of all, Make them grow.

Her small size and large glasses made her unassuming to most. But the wasteland had made her tough. Growing up in the casinos of Dice made her smart. She could move money, juggle books, tweak inventories. Find which department was skimming from the bottom line. For her it was easy. Just follow the money... and the inconsistencies.

But Dice was many years behind her. Officially, she was Hellbound Express’s conductor. The trains #2. Unofficially, she pretty much did a little bit of everything. Where Overdrive and Whistles managed the engine,  IV took care of medical, Half-cocked ran security, and Gandy Dancer maintenance. She was the catch-all for everything else. Inventory, accounting, and handling the mercenary and bounty contacts. But also cooking, bartending, card dealing, seeing to the FNG’s and to guests. Those who bought tickets that is. Those riding against their will were kept in the cattle cars. The Slavers tended to them.

Porter felt a cold indifference looking over the projected inventory they will soon be picking up and delivering from New and Old Appleloosa. 

Normal drop-offs include guns and ammo, medical supplies, raw materials, and food-stuff. They would also be picking up 458t of scrap iron, 25 crates of barding, and 30 kegs of Apple Whiskey as part of their stop. 

Each town was pretty much the same, mostly specialized in one thing. So the proprietor of each towns general store sold off what they could of what the town manufactured and would then buy up all the goods that the town needed. 

For a lot of settlements, this train was their lifeblood. At least it had been when they were traveling all of Equestria. But for the last 6 months, they had been dedicated to Red Eye, running from Fillydelphia to Old Appleloosa. That was when the train wasn’t in the shop. Porter assumed those towns that had relied on this train for their supplies were now being supplied by trading caravans nowadays or had just dried up and died off. 

She had reached the last line on the manifest thinking over the fates of those abandoned towns. 659 head of slave stock. Slavers from all around the countryside would gather up ponies by raiding settlements, hijacking caravans, or simply by picking up ponies out wandering the waste. They would then drag them to slaver towns like Old Appleloosa, Paradise, or Yellow River. The big name slavers, like Red Eye, would send out there goons to pay the "independent" slavers to see that the slaves were shipped back to their base. In Red Eyes case, the Fillydelphia Fun Farm. 

Porter never saw herself as a slaver. She was not out there picking them up. If she saw a pony out wandering the waste, she would pick them up and take them to where they wanted to go, for a price of course. 

She just kept inventory as they came on and off the train. But slaves weren't even that profitable for them. They didn't buy and sell. Only transported. Not compared to things like water talismans and magical, pre-war artifacts. But to her, they were so rare it wasn't worth chasing. It had become somewhat of an obsession for Coal. 

A prickling sensation ran up her spine as she thought about Coal. 

She narrowed her eyes at the bottom ledger and decided it was time to go talk to the stallion. 

Getting out of the chair and back on all fours she checked her pip buck. It was 10:36 they couldn't be more than 20 minutes outside New Appleloosa. 

She turned and walked up the spiral staircase to the upper container of car number six. The first of four double stack well container cars that made up their rolling warehouse, informatory, and maintenance shop. Trotting through the center aisle of the upper car six just fueled her anger.

Upper car six was the armory. Normally full of all kinds of firearms and ammunition. Now, dim fluorescent lights lit up mostly empty shelves and low caliber rusted arms that weren’t worth the space they took up in the arms racks. 

Reaching the front of the container, she pushed open the door and stepped out onto a catwalk that almost bridged the two cars. Knocks and pops of a moving train pounded at her ears while wind whipped her mane into her face and her glasses began to accumulate droplets of water as she trotted over the narrow gap in the catwalk that separated the two cars. Looking down, she could be the railcars knuckles backdropped by two rails and rushing ties beneath her.

Stepping on the catwalk of car five, she opened the door and stepped into the first of four actual passenger cars, the dining car. After this came the two sleeper cars and then the administration car. All four cars were double-decker superliner types, build by the Draft and Pullman Company during the height of the industrial revolution.

The noise of the train abruptly cut off as the sliding door closed behind her. The sudden change in temperature causing her glasses to instantly fog up. Sitting down on her rump, she pulled them off and wiped the water off on her matted coat.

Being able to see again, she took in the full view of the dining car. 

The car was one open room from front to back. It had a pool table, dart board, corn hole board, and shoe toss for entertainment. A few booth tables, bar top tables, and a poker/blackjack table. The bar was half the length of the car mounted against the center of the right wall. A stairwell at the front of the bar lead down into the kitchen and food storage.

At the back end of the bar was the pony shaped imprint stamped in the wall that had been filled in with graffiti, mostly consisting of ponies names, dates, and theories to how the imprint had gotten there.  

The flooring was old worn carpet, scattered with occasional holes showing the plywood floor underneath. Worn wood paneling walls and a boring dull green ceiling reminded Porter of her old casino days. Every inch of wall that didn’t house a dirty window was covered with train memorabilia. Framed black and white pictures of old steam engines sat next to images of more modern spark generator locomotives pulling heavy freight over mountain passes. Railroad crossing signs, signal lights, and logos of long-lost rail companies. The Baltimare Southern, the Norcolt Central, Four Stars Transit, and the Ministry of War Time Technology just to name a few. Of course, centered on the wall behind the bar was the large shield of the Equestrian TransContinental, with Friendship Express on a rocker under the shield. 

Once the largest railroad company on the continent, they had more track mileage, rolling stock, and engine power than any other company. Boasting the fastest times from coast to coast. The Friendship Express being the pride of the line. A celebrity in itself. If you were traveling, you wanted to ride on the Friendship Express. Since they were the only still functional trans-continental train the ETC must have done something right.

Five ponies were occupying the car at the moment. Two of the FNG’s, one earth pony and one unicorn were sitting alone at a table, staring into a bottle of sparkle cola. They looked battered and bruised from the incursion earlier that day.

A red pegasus with an orange mane was hoof locked with an fluorescent pink earth pony with a dark purple mane and tail, both seeing who could pin the others hoof over first. There was a lot of grunting and mumbles of curses coming from that corner of the car.

Behind the bar was a beautiful unicorn with a peach coat and sky blue mane mixing herself a drink. Tall, lean, and well kept, Porter stared for a heartbeat.

“Care for a drink dear?” IV said in a soft, aristocratic accent of the Society.

Pausing for a moment. “Sure, whiskey. Have you seen Coal? We need to have words.” Porter responded with a slight edge to her voice.

IV lifted one eyebrow and twitched an ear. “I believe he has been in his study for most of the day,” she said as she poured out a shot and set the bottle of wild pegasus on the bar.

Porter huffed, through back the shot of courage, and trotted on through the car. 

“Och, ye think ye git me thare, son? ” the pink pony grunted with a think accent pulling his hoof hard against the pegasus. 

“Your getting weak you old buck.” The pegasus slowly brought the pink hoof closer to the table top. 
Porter just watched as she trotted by. “Gandy, you are going to break something.”

“Don't be such a crabbit and be selling me short just yet.” Gandy Dancer shifted his fetlock, and with one powerful grunt made almost a full half circle, bringing Half Cocks hoof just an inch off the table. 

Half cocks eyes bulged and his muscles strained as he fought back. 

“Nope, nooope, nooo. Fuck youuu!” he grunted knowing he about to go into muscle failure. 

A jolt ran through the train car as the consist began to slow its speed. The sudden shaking caught Gandy Dancers for a split second, causing him to lose his focus and giving Half Cocked the break he needed. Half Cocked brought Gandys hoof in a full half circle and pinned it against the table top.

“Fuck yeah, I win!!” Half Cocked said, jumping off his seat and hovering about a foot off the floor, shaking both hooves in the air in victory.

“Oh, you cheating little bastard. Fuck yur arse! ” Gandy shouted in a fit of rage diving over the table and tackling the pegasus out of the air and pinning him to the flood.

Porter looked at IV who watched the brawl with minimal interest. They traded glances and Porter turned and headed out the front of the dining car into the sleeper car. Walking down the narrow aisle on the right hoof side of the sleeper car she passed staterooms for passengers. Porter felt the anger she had for Coal come back, knowing they hadn't had a fare-paying passenger in quite some time. Red Eyes goons don't pay a fare since he thought he owned the train.

By the time she got through both sleeper cars and into the administration car, she was practily galloping. Stomping every hoof. 

The upper story of the admin car had a conference room, the train superintendent's office, and the crews personal armory. The lower had Coals personal quarters.

She slid the door to the office open and invited herself in. Sitting behind a desk at the other side of the office was just the pony she needed to see.

The office was well kept, nice carpet, clean wood paneling walls, with soft white lights hung from the ceiling to illuminate the room. Pictures hung on the walls, not of trains, but of pre-war Equestria. The first one She saw was a newspaper clipping on a new, coal-fired power plant promising to fuel an industrial revolution. Another clipping had a picture of an orange mare wearing a black Stetson, leaning over a coffin. Another, a picture of a rainbow colored pegasus in power armor, flying lead in front of a squadron of pegasi. The final picture was of a scared white unicorn with a golden mane and tail sitting next to a smiling yellow pegasus with a small white bunny at her hooves. In one corner of the room there was a small display cabinet filled with different types of gems and rocks. The only train picture in the entire room was of the original Friendship express. A yellow earth pony was pictured wearing a striped engineers hat and a red handkerchief, leaning out of a 4-4-0 engine while a light blue earth pony stallion with a Fu Manchu, wearing a conductor hat and uniform, stood on a platform looking at his stopwatch. 

On the wall behind Coal was a very large picture frame. Under the glass was yellowed parchment drawn with a map of the entire country of Equestria and bordering neighbors. Red lines snaked there way across the map, marking the tracks that had grown to cover the nation during the great war.

But none of this mattered as she walked up to the desk and took a seat on one of pillows.

The massive all black stallion sitting on the other side of the large dark monogamy desk eyed her cooley. His ears laid back as his black eyes narrowed, staring down at the mare less than half his size. 

“Why don't you come in and have a seat,” Coal said sarcastically in a dry, incredibly deep tone. 

Porter pulled a few papers out of her saddlebags and tossed them on his desk. Both ponies looked down at the ledgers, seeing that they had more red ink than black. Porter paused, debating the best way to start this conversation. 

“Three months. A full quarter. We have not turned a profit in three months. Haven't made our quota in four.” She paused, watching him glance over the papers and back at her. His face still unreadable. “This train is too big to be sustained by one dedicated line. We drained the resources of this region in 3 months, now it's not even producing enough to fill half this train.”

She paused, waiting for Coal to respond.  When he didn't, she continued “If we don't make this ridiculous quota.” Porter pointed her right hoof at one of the pages infront of her. “We won't be able to even make payroll. Let alone keep maintenance on this outdated rust bucket.”

The big stallion’s eyes grew hard at the insult to his train. “We get free maintenance from Red Eye in exchange for delivering the resources he needs .”

“Bull shit!” She snapped harder then she intended to. Calming herself, she made sure her next words were even before she continued. “Red Eye has only given us second-hand parts salvaged from the most dilapidated of equipment. Or worse, parts made by Solaris. Just enough to keep us limping. After each run 3133 spends two weeks in the shop. There are no good parts left in the Applejack Rail Complex. The coach yard, maintenance yard, and switchyard, they have all been picked clean! We can't keep doing this!” Porter saying those last words through gritted teeth. 

Coal felt a flicker of anger inside him. These arguments were becoming more frequent.  Picking up a glass of Velvet Bridal, he took a drink of the fine whiskey. “There are things in the works bigger than you”

“STOP IT!!” she screamed, “you can't keep hiding behind that! Every time!” she was practically shaking.

Coal came around the desk “Red Eye has what we need. He has resources we could use. Not to mention a growing army and those fucking alicorn freaks” 

“Then we run! We have a train! Equestria is a big country! There are plenty of other towns we could survive. Go talk to the White Apple’s, or head north to the Crystal Empire. At this point, I would settle for going to Hoofington and talking to Big..”

“NO,” he cut her off sharply “Do not finish that sentence. Would you rather deal with the casino bosses of Dice?” 

Porter looked away. 

“There is nowhere we can go they can’t find us. He will send team after team of Talons until this train is either brought back or scraped in a ditch. Either way, all of us will be a corpse. Not to mention Steel Rangers. They would love nothing more than to cut this train open like a can and pick it clean.” 

“So you are scared! Is that it!

Getting pissed, Coal leaned down and got right in her face. “Enough! Don't you ever insinuate I’m a coward! No pony tells me what to do. That is your only warning!” he said before getting back up and turning his back to her.

“Well, what about Shattered Hoof Prison. It's not that far! Seems a lot of ex-slaves have built up a camp there, and they are paying top caps for as many gems as they can get.”

Turning to face her again he said “They are still just outside Red Eye's territory.”

“We can do it off the books!” Porter refuted desperately trying to get him to see reason.

“Shattered Hoof is nothing more than a glorified raider camp!” Coal said anger building in his voice. About at the end of his patients 

“Dodge City is not even a half days ride from Appleloosa. I hear they are starting to grow cherries again.” she was now pleading in desperation.

“Porter! That section of track has been taken over by the Everfree and Red Eye doesn't want to send slaves to clear the track. He has us by the balls!”

“So you are just going to keep being Red Eye’s bitch!” she snapped

The anger erupted inside Coal. In the blink of an eye he had Porter by the throat and up against the wall. Her hind hooves dangling above the floor, desperately kicking in an attempt to regain a footing. Her forelegs wrapped around Coals massive foreleg. She could feel his muscles tighten under his hide. 

But despite all this, it wasn’t fear that crept into her eyes, but loathing and anger.

“I am nobody's bitch.” Coal almost whispered in her ear.

Fighting for air, she barely managed to retort.

“Then prove it.”

The moment was cut by a blasting train horn.

Coals ears perked up and he let Porter drop to the floor. He stared down at her as she lay coughing on the floor, “Now go see to this town's abomination.”

Watching Porter get up and walk out of his office, Coal walked back behind his desk, picking up the glass of whiskey and finishing in one swig. He sat the glass back down hard upside down on the desk. Turning, he stared at the map of Equestria. All that track. How much of it was even still useable. They can't just run. He had to play his cards smart. He couldn’t afford to let Red Eye or any other pony get there hooves on this train. This train held too many secrets. 



***    ***    ***



“Yi''ll need tae go easier on her. Ye keep pushing ‘er this ‘ard yer gonna burn up th' bearings 'n' throw a rod! 'n' goddess be damned if a'm th' one humping the heavy bits on 'n' aff this train again.” 

Overdrive’s left eye twitched as he just stared at the pink stallion for a moment while the gears in his mind translated what the mechanic was trying to tell him. “Then we need to stop more often to lubricate the drives. These engines were designed for fast passenger and freight. She will do 100 MPH.” saying with pride as he put one hoof on the main drive rod. 

“Laddie, tis was 200 years ago, she isn’t as young as she once was. Ye could jist tak' yer heavy hoof off th' throttle. Yi''ll need tae keep ‘er under 25,” Gandy said, grabbing a flashlight from his utility saddle in his mouth and bending under the linkage to look at the back side of the bearings. “She is dry as a bone. If it wasn’t fur th' cold night 'n' rain it woulda bin smoking or even caught fire.”

“Is there a problem?” A voice said from behind them. Overdrive turned to see Porter walking up. “We are heading up the mountain at first light.”

Overdrive ears laid back looking at her. He spit and turned back to Gandy. “Get the bearings regreased and have her rail ready by mourning.”

“Tis not that simple. Th' bearings ur shot 'n' need ta be replaced.” 

“Then pull the rods and repack the bearings,” Overdrive said “Porter, how many bearings do we have left?” 

“8, one more full set.” she said recalling the inventory.

“Replace Oan a' eight drives?!” Gandy stammered.

“Fix all the drives that aren't going to burn up and fall off!” Overdrive retorted.

“Urr ye daft? That wid tak' a full day or mibbie more.” 

“Then get Crane to help you.” Overdrive turned and started walking into town leaving the two ponies behind. “Like the little one said, we’re rolling out at sunup.”

“Are you not going to help fix it?” Porter yelled toward him, “what do I pay you for?”

“I have my own things to patch up. And you pay me to drive, not to turn wrenches,” Overdrive yelled back as he trotted away.

Walking through the muddy gravel, he left the lights of the rail yard and worked his way through the railcar town.

Through the mist, Overdrive saw the shadow of a pegasus come into view. The closer the pegasus came, the stronger the scent of rotting flesh began to hit his mussel. The ghoul had a chalkboard and a basket hanging around her neck. Her eyes brightened up as she saw Overdrive and cheerfully trotted up to him before wrapping him with a squishy hug.

“Hello Ditzy,” Overdrive said, secretly cringing as he felt her flesh slide around her body. 

She placed the basket down and pulled up her chalkboard and wrote “Basket, muffins, for the train crew.”

“Aww thank you, Ditzy.” Overdrive gave her a smile before pulling out and biting into a muffin from the basket. Ditzy had written a new message on the board. “Porter?” 

“She is down at the train. I hope you have enough product to trade,” he said, offering a friendly warning. 

She gave a bright smile, then it slowly faded and she shrugged. She erased the chalkboard and wrote “Coal?”

“Yep. He’s still alive. And in charge. Just try to avoid him.” 

Again, she erased her previous message and wrote. “Muffins! Win over?”

“Doubt it.” biting into his own muffin. “No amount of muffins can change an asshole and a bigot.”

She looked undeterred. 

“Well enjoy the rest of your night.”  as Overdrive worked his way around her. She waved and coutined her carefree trot to the raidyard.

“Knowing my luck, she would go farel right in the middle of a hug,” he thought to himself, rubbing his tired eyes and walking on.

Slowly, he slipped into the medical clinic. Walking through the dimly light ward, a few ponies where sleeping, but non were who he was looking for. He began working his way to the second story. Each step creaked as he took light steps, trying to make as little noise as possible. Coming up on the bedroom, he slowly opened the door and slipped in.

Narrow slits of light from the window laid across a small bed. The covers of the bed slowly rose and fell with every breath of the beautiful, sleeping mare. Overdrive slipped out of his battle saddle, letting it fall next to the night stand, and took a seat on the bed behind the white mare. He started running his hoof through her cotton candy pink mane. When she stirred he softly said “I hope I didn't wake you.

“You didn't.” she said in a naturally sweet tone

“A Little early to be in bed isn't it?”

“It's been slow, its crappy out, and I was feeling tired.

“Ah, how have you been?

“Fine.” she said, still laying with her back to him.

Red flags began going off in the back of his mind. “Tread carefully my friend,” he thought to himself. 

“I missed you”. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. 

Candi scooted away from his nuzzle. Overdrive was starting to feel like he was crashing and burning.

“I did miss you,” she said as she sat up and looked over at him, “but Over, it's been three and half weeks since you were last here.” She looked at him with sad eyes. “It was hard, wondering if you were safe. If I still meant something to you. If I'm your special somepony.”

Overdrive cringed at the words, although he didn't show it. “I came to see you as soon as I could. Gandy is probably cursing me up and down right now.” He had a small smile as he told her this. When she didn't respond he said “I noticed a certain pegasus is still hanging around.” Her eyes glanced down for a second. “Calamity seems to be able to turn heads. Can you tell me there is nothing going on?” He eyed her accusingly.

She slowly responded “I could understand why some mares might find him a looker.” Quickly, Candi followed that up. “But I have never. Besides, he is out with caravans almost as much as you are.” 

“Do you really want to have a special some pony who travels as much as I do? What kind of relationship would that be?

“Then why don't you stay here. Railright would eagerly accept you into our town.” Candi proposed an offer she had made several times already.

Overdrive was well aware of Appleloosa's rail capabilities. And they were minimal at best. Turning to look out the window, he took a deep breath and said “Candi, have I ever told you my cutie mark story?”

Candi shook her head. 

“I'm from a industrial town/stable called Ironworks. Right on the edge of the Emerald Sea, at the end of route 52. When I was just a young colt, my friends and I would sneak out of the stable and wander the industrial complex. Incredibly dangerous looking back on it now,” He said with a chuckle, still looking out the window.

“One day while we were playing, we got attacked by an ironwolf. Like a urban counterpart to your Timberwolves. They manifest themselves using pieces of scrap iron, its metal mouth drips with hot tar and has a horrible breath that reeks of burning rubber.” He eyes were unfocused as he recalled the memory. Candi didn't say a word as she listened to the story. He spoke with such conviction.

“We did the only think we could do. We ran. But we weren't fast enough. I lost one of my best friends and almost lost my sister, Short Shift. Running through back alley ways, that monster destroyed everything in its way. Ripping out walls, tearing down pipes. It seemed unstoppable. We were diving over creates when Short Shift tripped. I went back for her, but by the time I had her on my back and running again, the beast was right on top of us. I can still remember that overpowering smell. There is a scar on the back of my rear calf where some hot tar landed. It burned so bad, but I pushed through. We had just barely made it into the cab of a spark generated switch engine. I managed to fired it up, release the brakes, and put it in gear. Before that, I had never been in a engine before. We drove away. It pursued us and damn near tore the engine apart, but we found help and they destroyed the ironwolf. After that, this railroad crossing sign appeared and I knew I was destined to run trains. I learned railroading in the switch yards of Ironworks, but when I saw 3133 for the first time she called to me. I knew I had to run that train. To see Equestria, and to get out of Ironworks.” 

He paused, having finished his story, and looked into Candi's eyes. 

“Candi, I’m sorry. But I just ca….”

She put a hoof on his lips and bent forward. “Shoo…” then pushed her lips to his. He wrapped his fore legs around her and laid her back down on the bed.


***    ***    ***


“Last stop!! Fillydelphia Rail Terminal, Fillydelphia!! All passengers must disembark!!” All-Aboard hollered out as he walked from car to car. The cute passenger cars of the Friendship Express were standing room only. All-Aboard pushed through the crowd, repeating his message. 

The old passenger cars rattled more than they use to. The seat cushions were worn and starting to fray. The amount a passenger traffic has been steadily increasing the past few years. They sure were in thriving times. They would have had to add six more passenger cars to help handel the flow of traffic. The contis was getting so long and heavy that it was getting harder for there 4-4-0 “Equestrian” engine to pull the weight. They were burning ⅔ more coal to get the same mileage they had been getting two years ago.

All-aboard reached the first car and slid open the side door. Leaning out of the train car, they were pulling under the giant awning of Equestria's finest and largest rail depot. Steel I beams rose up from the platforms and made a gentle arc’s over each track. More steel laced between the main girders and supported large sheets of glass, allowing warming rays to bath the patrons in sunlight.

He took a red lantern by the door and started swing it, giving the signal to slow down. As the train slowed to a crawl as it pulled into the station. All Aboard stepped off the train and onto the platform. As the train came to a stop, he started walking back down the train, sliding open the doors and releasing the floodgates of ponies. In seconds, the platform was flooded with bright pastels and an eruption of hooves clapping on concrete, laughing, and a cacophony of conversations so loud that they were able to drown out the pops and hisses of the engine. 

Stepping back into the caboose, the light blue, earth pony stallion walk back through each car, closing the doors and making sure each was void of ponies. Trotting through the passenger cars, All Board felt a twinge of sadness. He knew that times were changing, and it was adapt or get left behind, but aside from increased passenger traffic, it really had not affected him personally. That was until two weeks ago, when the time tables came out. It was surprising to find out that the Friendship Express 4-4-0 engine 446 and its 28 small, two axle passenger cars, had been taken off the schedule.

At first he could not understand why the ETC would discontinue its most famous passenger special. Dispatch had been very tight lipped about the future of the Friendship Express, and the two weeks had gone incredibly fast. Before he knew it, the train orders were on his desk for the last transcontinental run. And aside from the slow going and the large volume of passengers, the run was surprisingly uneventful. The glory and pride of 446 pulling the Express will come to an end without ceremony. 

Still, walking from car to car, all the memories came back to him. He remembered countless faces of ponies excited to travel to new places. A smile crossed his muzzle remembering past times.  The time of the great bakery mystery. A group of friends tried to figure out who was eating the baked goods before a cooking competition was a personal favorite. He got a chuckle recalling that adventure.

By the time he got to the engine, he had found two wallets, a red purse, and a pair of yellow saddlebags. He flagged down a porter, a teal mare, and had her take the lost belongings to the ticket counter. Grabbing a green lantern, he began to wave it. Trying to get the attention of the station control room that was perched high in the station, looking over all the platforms. He stepped into the engine where the engineer, Steamer, was sitting at the controls and looking out the large, heart shaped window in the front of the cab. He kept his eyes on a red light at the end of the platform. 

“Well, what next?” Steamer said.

Looking down at the train orders he carried, “We need to drop the cars on track five in the couch yard. Then take this old filly to round house number three, door six.” he said patting his fore hoof on the engine’s window sill. 

“She was a good engine.” Steamer released a sad sigh. “What do you think is next?

“Probably get demoted to general freight,” All Aboard said sarcastically.

Steamer looked over with a glare that turned to smile.

The signal light turned green.

“All right, lets go,” Steamer said pulling on the whistle string.

TOOT, TOOT, TOOT!

He gave three quick bursts of the whistle to give an acknowledgment of movement before releasing both the train and engine brakes, pulling the reverser back into the second notch, reverse, and applying ¼ throttle.  The train gave a hard knock and started backing out of the station. 

After winding from track to track and waiting for freight trains to pass, it was a slow journey across the train yard to drop the string of cars and back the engine into the round house.

Steamer and All Aboard walked into the dispatched office. Dust and dirt being tracked along the floor in front of a long counter. Three mares behind the counter received inbound/outbound train orders, maintenance of way requests, and local industrial waybills for the Fillydelphia District. 

“Hey boys!” Timetable, a forest green mare with cherry cola colored mane said as she shifted through the way bills of Engine 756, a mixed freight out of Balimare. 

“Hey darling,” All Aboard said, handing her his stack of paperwork. “Not going to lie, it's been a sad few days. I'm going to miss the Friendship Express.”

“Yeah I think this is the end of an era.” Steamer chimed in, leaning on the counter. “So what do you have next for us? Putting us back in the driver pool?”

Timetable looked confused. “End of an era?” she asked as she sent out orders for Engine 235 on track 3, a Gem train going to the Zebralands, and Engine 196 on track 15, a long string of loaded hopper bottoms from Caledonia.  “You two are still going to be running the Friendship Express.” she assured them. 

“But we were taken off the schedule. And rumor has it they were going to decommission that engine.” All Aboard said.

Timetable just stared at them. “Wow, you’ve really been out on the road to long.” Taking a exasperated sigh. “The Friendship Express isn't being decommissioned, its being upgraded. With this economic boom, Equestrian Locomotive Works and Buckwin Locomotive have been in fierce competition for building the next generation engine. And these engines are massive. They can pull 100 cars at 100 MPH!!”

“Bull shit!” Steamer said. “There isn't a engine on the line that powerful.”

“There WASN’T an engine that could do it. This engine is a 4-8-4,” She said. Steamer looked over at All-Aboard with a impressed look.”Rumor has it Buckwin has plans on the drawing board for a 4-8-8-4,” said Timetable as she stapled timecards together and hoofed then over to Manifest, a teal unicorn mare with an aqua mane. 

“I’m sure not to be outdone, the ELW will probably build a 4-10-10-4.” Steamer said jokingly.

“Actually, yes.” Timetable said.

Steamer and All Aboard looked at each other. Timetable just smiled and gathered up papers into a folder and handed it over to All Aboard. Looking down, on the front of the folder there was printed,


“Friendship Express


Engine 3133”


All Aboard gave her a sideways look.

“Round house 1, door 3. Then pick up the cars from RIP track 6 and then take the consists to coach track 1 to get prepared for tomorrow's run. The ceremony starts at 10 and your scheduled for leave at 11:14 for Canterlot.

“Ceremony?” Steamer asked.

“It's going to be a big ceremony. Even the princess with be here, taking the first ride on the new train.” Manifest said holding a folder of more paperwork in her amber colored magic glow. “The high brass is making a big todo of this.”

“Well let's go see what this new engine has to offer,” Steamer said as they trotted toward the door. 

“‘A 4-10-10-4 engine has to be well over 100’ long. How are you going to get that around curves?” Steamer asked, stepping out the door.

“That's for smarter ponies then you or me to figure out.” All Aboard said following him out.


--- Achievement---


Congratulation!! You have a train!! The whole of equestria is open to you! Where do you want to go first!


--Stats--


Engine 3133
Make: Equestrian Locomotive Works
Model: FEF-3
Owner: Equestrian Transcontinental
Price: 2,120,000 Bits
Length: 98’ 5”
Weight: 912,250 lb
Fuel/capacity: Coal, 55,000 lb.
Water, 20,000 gl.
Traction Effort: 63,750 ft/lb
> Ch 2 Load Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


***Chapter 2***



“Load Out”



“Took this right off him. And he earned that with the sweat of his slave-trading brow.”

 
- Malcolm Reynolds 




A bright spot in the clouds sat high in the sky. Hellbound Express rolled back across the switch and cut on to the siding. The gap between the cattle cars and New Appleloosa's smaller freight cars were steadily closing. A white unicorn with a striped yellow and black mane sat on his haunches next to the track picking at the ballast with his hoof.

“You're ten cars out. Keep comin’ back.” Whistles said into the broadcaster built into his utility saddle.

The world was bright out. More light than normal seemed to be getting through the cloud curtain, making Whistles squint his eyes. He felt bored, even fatigued. He turned his eyes up, trying to focus on the white tip of his horn at the top of his vision. Crossing his eyes, he almost got the tip into focus. But the strain hurt, so enough of that. Next, he laid his right ear flat. Then raised it up again. Did the same thing with his left ear. Then with both ears.

“Eight cars out.” He drawled.

A yellow unicorn, Crane, with a matching yellow hard hat with a small hole cut into it to allow the tip of a horn poked out was trotting up to him.  “Yo Whistles, thanks for taking these cars up the hill for us. Saves us allot of work.”

Whistles turned to look at the stallion approaching him before he responded. “Not a problem man, we're headed that way. Might as well. Not like we don't have the power to add on a few more cars.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Whistles just stared back to Crane, not sure if that was the question or if another question was still coming.

“What is this “man” you always seem to call every pony?” 

“Oh “man”? That's just a figure of speech ya’ know. Used to drive Overdrive crazy, but he mellowed out about it after a few years.” Whistles explained.

“You have been doing this a while now, haven't you?” The question seemed to be a leading one.

“Well, Coal has been on the longest, but yeah, I have been surfing the steel for a while now.”

“So, are you alright with this? Hauling slaves and all?” Crane was interested in what the mellow unicorns thoughts were on the topic.

“Oh, it really doesn't bother me. I mean, aren't we all slaves to something in the end.”

The broadcaster cracked with the sound of Overdrives voice “Yo’, Whistles, how far out am I?” 

“I'm slave to this train, I can't leave. Plus I don't have any better place to go. And you, you're like a slave to this town.” Whistles eyes glazed over as he went into a deeper sociological state of being.

“I could leave whenever I want, I just got things to do here. There is work to be done around here.” Crane knew this was not exactly where he had planned to take the conversation. “Besides, you should probably get back on that broadcaster”

As the cattle cars rolled along behind Whistles, he continued his sociological decent. “You might not wear chains of iron, but chains of responsibility are chains all…”


!!!CRASH!!!


The knuckle of the last cattle car drove hard into the string of New Appleloosa's freight cars, snapping the knuckle on the smaller car. The crash reverberated through the Hellbound Express. The whole consist pushed back another full cars length before coming to a stop. 

Whistles turned around and looked at the train. A broken knuckle was laying on the track under the cattle cars. He shrugged, keyed the mic, and calmly said “Stop there, you're good.”

A long string of profanities spilled out of the broadcaster as Whistles turned back to Crane, intent on enlightening him on how everypony is already a slave.

Crane just facehoofed. “I will go get another knuckle” He turned around and started walking back toward the round house.


*** *** ***


Flipping through her manifest, Porter was satisfied with the exchange. Having traded off what goods they had and spent a large quantity of caps. Ditzy could retire rich if she pleased. But Porter knew Ditzy would use those caps to buy more goods that came into town. The thought of functioning economics made Porter feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

Walking through the upper deck of the contain car, her and her trading partner were finishing up business, hoping the entire time that they were almost done. The scent of rotting meat was beginning to get overwhelming in the hot, stuffy container.

“So, if that is all, I believe we have finished what I believe to have been a fair trade?” Porter said looking at the ghoul pony. 

Ditzy tilted her head to the side in thought. Her left eye began rolling in the back of her head. Porter suppressed the urge to vomit at the sight. And in the blink of an eye Ditzy’s eyes returned to normal as she remembered something. 

Digging her grey, featherless wing tip deep into her saddle bags, she pulled out a clear crystal the size of a hoof. 

For a split second, Porters eyes went wide. Trying to keep a neutral expression was critical while bargaining. But this time she just could not help it, she knew a good prize when she saw one. Hopefully Ditsy didn't notice.

Ditzy cracked a smile. She let Porter hold the talesman while she wrote on her tablet. “Came in a few weeks ago. Some trader found it in a old factory in Dodge City.”

As Porter inspected it Ditzy cleared her chalkboard and wrote, “They said it makes a gas. You can fill up balloons with it!” 

“This is a helium talisman?” Porter asked. Still turning it over, looking for an inscription. Ditzy nodded her head and smiled wide, showing twisted, black and yellow teeth.

Tasting bile in her mouth, Porter quickly looked away from the ghoul. Red Eye had been looking for a helium talisman for a while now. Ever since they found a stash of large air balloons in the MOM hub. Finally, she found the talisman’s etched marking. She was surprised when she noticed the engravings was not “He”, the symbol for Helium, but instead was just an “H”. 

“Ditzy! This isn't helium?! This is a hydrogen talisman!”

Ditzy shrugged. 

“This gas is very flammable!” Porter explained with a start.

Ditzy wrote on her chalkboard “still trade?”

Porter thought. Red Eye had been looking for anything lighter than air. And its not like there it's a huge threat of these balloons to be shot down.. “Ok Ditzy, what would you like for this?” 

After scribbling on her calk bored Porter winced when she read “Pip Buck”.

“Ouch. I might not get out of this with a leg up.” Porter thought to herself. Unlocking the pip buck cage, her and Ditzy stepped in. 

Ditzy seemed in aww as almost two dozen pip bucks of different styles and models were stacked up on shelves. Ditzy walked around looking at all the different pip bucks before stopping and pointing to one. A big one! It was a pip buck 2600. Mounting on the lower calf like a regular pip buck except this one ran up the leg almost till it met the shoulder. Porter had read old reports on the 2600. They were great for transporting secret messages and were impossible to hack, but….

“I'm sorry, Ditzy, but I can’t let you have a 2600,” Porter explained, “there not user friendly.” She was trying to sugar coat the truth in hopes that she wouldn’t have to explain the real reason why. “I will trade you a 2000 for the talisman.” 2000 were the most common model. Most stables were stocked with the 2000 model. 

Ditzy stared flatley at Porter. “Trade for a 3000?” 

Porter laughed out right! “No. Those are very rare. I will meet in the middle with a 2500. It's still a reliable machine.”

Ditzy thought for a moment before writing on the chalkboard. “Deal”

Porter walked out onto the catwalk of car six. The light was blinding after coming out of the darker container. The rain had stopped just before day break and it was getting hot and humid. The handkerchief tying her mane back soaked up the sweat of her brow. 

Pulling out her pocket watch and flicked it open, her ears laid back and she knickered. Ten minutes to eleven. “So much for rolling at first light,” She muttered to herself. 

Leaning out the side of the container car, ponies were milling around in small groups of conversation. Sliding down the ladder, the ballast crunched under hoof as she began trotting toward the engine.

“You're a sad excuse for a pegasus, you know that.” A twang accented voice, dripping with malis, sounded from the other side of the train.

Porter stopped as her ears perking up. She looked between the cars and saw two pegasi, wings outstretched, feathers ruffled, almost noise to noise, having a heated conversation. 

“Now why would you say something like that to your cousin?” Half Cocked asked with his equally red necked accent.

“Cousin?! I ain't your damn cousin!” Calamity retorted.

“You're from Navarro. Everypony's a cousin in Navarro,” Half Cocked shot back, “I know you came down here full of piss and vinegar wanting to change things. Gonna be a big damn hero, ain't ya!”

“How can you live with yourself. To me your no better than a slaver! I have a policy when it comes to raiders and slavers!” Calamity said with a shooty look. The heat of pure anger building up inside of him. He almost wished Half Cocked would make a move.

“I ain't no slaver! I just don't want to die. Not all of us want to be down here in this shit hole. I had a good life up there.” Half Cocked spat on the ground and looked back at Calamity. He didn't like being on the defensive like this. “You know what your daddy said to me?”

“Don't you bring my daddy into this!” There was a sharp edge in Calamity’s voice. Heart racing now, his anger could have fired the boiler of the train.

“The hurt and disappointment in his eyes when he heard what you did. Where was your loyalty to your family!”

“My daddy never gave a radroaches ass about me! You though he was bad in basic, try living with that everyday of your life! Always in the shadow my brothers! So don't you talk to me about how my family felt! What would you know about any of that!”

“Look, I don't blame you for wanting to fix shit. But did you have to bring every pony down around you? Your lucky your daddy and brothers still got jobs.”

There was a pause. Could Calamity really say he didnt care what had happened to his dad or his brothers? Deep down, he knew he would just be lying to himself if he said he didn’t care.

“Well your here now. Why don't you help me.” 

“It’s going to take more than two ponies to bring down Appleloosa.” Half Cocked having been there often knew the camp and its fire power.

“You got enough fire power on this train to do it.” Calamity pointed a wing tip at the train.

Half Cocked knickered. “Please, you'll never get this crew to risk their lives like that. Coal only cares about bull shit trinkets, that and his own self worth. Porter only cares about the caps. Gandy’s to old to give a damn. And Whistles is just a goddess damn lazy piece of shit. You might get Overdrive and IV, but again, aint no pony going to be risking their own lives for another. Still, Appleloosa is just one small problem in a much larger problem. Much bigger than any one small group of ponies could try to fix. And again, I ain't looking to die.”

“That's a lie. Your the first one to start shooting and pull some crazy stunt. But that's your problem right there. Lack of faith. It’s not in your heart to do right.” 

“There's crazy, then there's suicidal. Besides, kill them before they kill you. Anyways, I got to go.” Half Cocked began beating his wings and taking flight. He stopped, hovered in the air looking back at Calamity. “Captain, if it's any consolation, I never believed what they said about you.”

“I ain't a Captain any more, Lieutenant,” Calamity said dryly. 

This gave Porter pause. She knew she was not meant to hear all that. And that was a side to Half Cocked she had never seen before. Did she really only care about the caps? Something for her to chew on later.

As she walked alongside the train, IV and Candi were talking, but in a much lighter tone.

“Apple schnapps you say? Are you sure it's wise to mix medication with alcohol?” IV seemed to be questioning the decisions of the town’s medical pony. 

“I’ve just found it helps the medicine go down better.” Candi had seemed to be all smiles this mourning, if a little sore. “You sure you can't spare any more medical bandages. I never know when you ponies will be back around this way.”

“I do apologize, Candi. I sold you all that I can spare.” IV knew that it wasn't the whole truth though. “We need everything else to fix up the slaves. They always seem to be in the most dreadful condition.” 

“I understand. This should get us about three weeks. If there is no major fighting.” They were literally stuck between Appleloosa slavers and Ponyville raiders. The chances of that were slim.

“I'm sure we will be back by then.” IV assured. 

“Besides, we get to bill for medical expenses when treating the slaves,” Porter said, trotting up to the two mares. A small voice in her mind repeated what Half Cocked had said about her. You only care for caps. She suppressed the thought. That's not how Mr. House had taught her to think. It's not good for business. “Where is Coal?”

IV pointed a forehoof toward the front of the train. “I believe he is talking with Railright by the South gate.” 

“Ok, climb aboard, we are about to leave.” Porter turned to trot up the train.

Indeed, Coal was at the south gate, arguing with Railright. Seemed she was two for three for hot tempered conversation. 

“We need more fire talismans!” Railright exclaimed. 

“No, you need to produce more! The amount of cargo we picked up here is pathetic! I don't think this is what Red Eye had in mind when he loaned you a water talismans.”

Railright cringed on the inside. Most ponies in town didn't know Red Eye had given them the water talisman. “How am I supposed to produce anything if I’m not able to get raw materials into town.”

“An emergency on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine. Find a way. Pull the damn train up the hill if you have to.” Coal knew he had the stallion by the balls, and he relished in the feeling. Noticing Porter trotting up, he turned his attention to her. “They get those cars tied in?”

“Yes. Gandy and Crane fixed the knuckle, the airlines tied off and we are ready to roll.” 

“That's another thing, 150 caps per car. That's blatant robbery,” Railright blurted out, “and you're beating up my equipment. I ought to charge you 300 for that knuckle.”

Coal glared at Railright. He stood at least a head taller than the sheriff. “I will take 200 caps off.” 

“I want 250.” Railright said firmly. Money was the only leverage he had over Coal. It was the card he had to play in order to try and get control over the conversation. 

Coal looked over to Porter. “Cut the last 6 cars of the train. I just won't take them up then.”

Both Porter and Railright stammered. Coal had called his bluff. Railright hadn’t thought Coal would be willing to miss out on caps to prove a point. Seems he was mistaken. 

“Rather get paid for five then none.” Porter said hesitantly.

“Fine. 200.” Railright was quick to interject. The corners of Coals mouth curved up. How nice it was to hold all the power. He thought to himself. 

Railright, begrudgingly hoofed the caps out of his saddlebags. 

“Have the gates open when we come back through. We are not going to stop.” Coal said. “Now, let's get out of this shit hole.” 

Railright’s ears went flat as he bit down on his tongue. Every deal and every pass of this train just seemed to get worse and worse.

Porter just watched as Coal trotted into the passenger car and Railright walked away, ears laid flat. Snapping his tail in the air with every swoosh.

Standing in the veranda, Porter keyed up the mic on her broadcaster. “Overdrive, you have 9 cars still in the siding. Take it easy till we clear the gate.”

“Roger that.” Overdrive’s voice came back.

The quiet air was shattered by the sound of three deep whistle blasts. The knocking sound of slack action raced down the train as the knuckles drew tight and the whole consist began rolling forward. Porter rocked to the side as New Appleloosa began moving away in front of her. She pulled out her pocket watch and released a deep sigh. “So much for first light.”


*** *** ***


Wind whipped through Half Cocked's mane and hair. Wings outstretched, he flew high above the rails, scanning the track looking for broken rail, obstructions, or raiders laying in wait. Twin AR-10’s, loaded and cocked, were mounted on his battle saddle, just waiting for something to spring up.

He could feel pressure building behind his eyes. His vision was beginning to fog and he was finding it harder to stay focused. He pulled up and started hovering in the air. Looking back a half mile, dark, greenish-purple smoke was rising from the ground as the train worked is way across the desert. 

Pulling out a can of PTM's, he popped one of the candy flavored drugs. 

As the fog of sobriety lifted away, the world fell back into clarity, “Oh there it is!” Half Cocked said with a smile. 

The sun was on the downward side of the day as a slightly brighter spot in the clouds worked its way toward the horizon. Looking to the south, Appleloosa was off in the distance with the Hellbound Express only about 30 minutes out from it. 

“Hey, Condor, look at what we got here,” a rough voice said from behind him. 

“Hey pegasus, you’re a long way from the Enclave” Condor said.

Half Cocked rolled his eyes recognising the voice of that turkey. Turning around, two of Red Eye’s griffin mercenaries floated in front of him. Grenades and ammo belts hanging off their armor. Each carried a modified AK in their talons. 

“Shut the fuck up, Sabbath,” Half Cocked said, staring down the griffins.

“Half Cocked?” Condor said. “You're late. Stern is not happy. She'll have your tail feathers for this.”

Half Cocked snapped his tail in the air. “Are you really too stupid to understand how many things are wrong with what you just said.” 

Condor tightened his grip on his AK. Snapping off the safety.

“Well then, I’ll just let you take the lead on this dance!” Half Cocked said with narrow eyes and a half smile. Lining up his twin AR-10’s. 

Sabbath looked over to Condor, “Lets take this dirt side.”

“Aww, and I was hoping for a two step.” Half Cocked chuckled as the two griffins dove toward the ground. 

Half Cocked dove down toward the slaver town. Dilapidated old wooden buildings and derailed rail cars lined the sides of a deep muddy road. The stench of shit and death bucked Half Cocked in the muzzle. The whole place was surely out of Celestia’s nightmare 

Half Cocked took a deep breath and kept his descent toward the ground. He circled over the train station. Two tracks came in the North end of Town and exited the town at the South side. A large, three way intersection was about half a mile further down the line where they would turn the consist around. 

Flying over the train station, the stench was at its worse. Directly behind the depot were the slave holding pens. Rusted steel catwalks were mounted over the cages with ragged and scarred slaver ponies kept a eye on the slaves.

Ponies so dirty that none had the bright pastel colors ponies were known for. The pens were barely even half full. Half Cocked grimaced. They definitely weren't going to meet quota with this load. Catching himself, he noticed his first thoughts went to there quota, not the fact that living breathing ponies where down there. Maybe Calamity was on to something. Was there a way to take down this town? Could a few ponies get enough of a jump to free slaves? A knot started form in his stomach and weigh it down. Stupid, suicidal thoughts of glory and justice began running though his mind.

Popping another PTM, his mind was quick to point out he had to be worried about the quota or Red Eye might make an example of the train crew. And he cared more about his own hide then these ponies. That was a good enough rationalisation. 

There seemed to be a fair mix of mares and stallions. One stallion seemed to be taking advantage of a smaller mare with the guards not doing a damn thing to stop it. A few fillys huddled in a corner, and there looked to be one big bastard chained down in his own cage. Two guards watched his every move. Goddess that is a big buck! Half Cocked thought to himself. Laying down, he was almost as tall as Half Cocked was standing up!

Taking another lap over the pens for a closer look, there seemed to be a little more than 200 or so ponies. Only a few even looked up to see him flying over. It was easy to tell the difference between those born into slavery and those forced into it. The ones who had accepted their fate or didn't know anything other than slavery were thin and weak from a life of malnutrition and hard labor, yet they were the ones that seemed the most coherent, the most alert. They were easy to transport, did not cause trouble, and knew there place. 

It was the slaves that had been forced into slavery that were where the trouble lied. Ponies typically went one of two ways. Either they broke down in fear, which could lead to depression and even suicide, or they turned violent. They always seemed to be looking for ways to cause trouble. They would probe defences, testing their limits. They could team up with other slaves and try to riot. The smart ones knew that the best time to riot was in transit. Once they got to The Farm, it was all over.

Half Cocked banked and headed back over town. Landing in the mud outside a large, multi story barn. Walking through the doors, he was again greeted with a horrid stank. But this time, it was booze, vomit, and overworked pussy. 

Hoof Cuffs was the town saloon and brothel. Trotting into an open floor filled with gambling tables, a bar on one side and a stage set up on the opposite end, ponies gambled away caps and slaves. Slave ponies could change hooves multiple times a night without ever knowing it. Which wouldn't matter when they got to Fillydelphia. If they survived the trip that was. To the slavers, it only mattered who collected the caps for that slave and the number of catches. Half Cocked even knew a slaver in the top 20 that never caught a single slave, just won them at the tables.

Half cocked surveyed the room. Catwalks of rusted steel lattice bolted into rotting wooden timbers ran over the stage and into some rooms on the second floor. The place was busy, packed with ponies, not all of which were slavers, but they were all unsavory. Along with slavers, there were mercenaries, hit ponies, bandits, and thugs. A few mares wearing colorful yet worn dresses hung off the stallions who seemed to be winning. Doesn't matter if you win at the tables, the whores are the only ones that will be walking out of here with the caps by the end of the night. Half Cocked thought to himself as he trotted up to the bar.

“Hey, get me some whiskey.” Half Cocked dropped a cap onto the bar. The bartender spit a thick stream of brown saliva into a glass he was “Cleaning” and wiped it out with a dirty old rag before setting the glass back on the shelf. He gave Half Cocked a curt nod. 

Cheers and whoops from the crowd erupted as an aqua colored mare with a lime green mane and tail wearing a tight tattered purple dress trotted on stage. 

A piano played an up tempo tune as she began to dance around. Trying her darndest to act seductive, this mare of the night reared up on her hind legs. Holding the bottom, she made the frilly ends of the dress flow around her, occasionally giving teasing shots of her engorged teats between her legs. For which the crowd gave a great applause

“Well if it isn't the eyes of the Hellbound.” A voice came from behind Half Cocked. “Y'all are a week late and first thing you gonna do is get a drink?”

“I was feeling thirsty. You know dehydration is a major killer out here in the waste,” Half Cocked said, never taking his eyes off the dancing mare who now had her hind quarters in a air for the whole saloon to see. Half Cocked gave a small chuckle at the irony. She put clothes on to give a strip tease, yet most the time ponies walked around naked. Of course, most mares don't go out of there way to show off there clam. 

“You know what else is a major killer?! Lead poisoning!” Anger was building at the disrespect this pegasus was showing him, he raised up a hoof to bring it crashing down on the back of Half Cocked’s head.

In the blink of an eye, Half Cocked pulled out a knife with this wingtip and pressed it tight to the slavers neck, causing the slaver to freeze.

Finally turning to look at the green pony, Half Cocked chided “ Now Apple Core. Why you gotta get rude like that.” 

Apple Core just eyed him sharply then glanced at his companion, a greytoned earth pony sporting a mini gun battle saddle moved closer.  

“Boss wants to have a word with you.” Bare Root said.

“Oh, well, best not keep the queen of this little ant hill waiting.” Half Cocked resheathed the knife, picked up this shot of whiskey with his wing tip, and turned to give one last look at the stripping mare. She had fully extracted herself from the dress and was letting some stallion, or could have been a mare, bury their face between her hind legs, her oversized breasts burying the ponies muzzle. Not that they seemed to mind, but shouldn't they have to come up for air?

Half Cocked trotted into Boss Hoss's office on the second floor of the barn. Condor and Sabbath were already in there. The two Griffin mercenaries were flank deep in an argument with a bright purple mare sitting behind a desk backed by a large, chalky grey stallion. 

“Stern is tired of getting train cars full of corpses!!” Sabbath said, his talons beginning to dig into the desk.

“Gental-pon….” Pausing, thinking that was not the best word to use with an angry griffin. “we are working on cutting the attrition rate here in our pens. Most seem to die in transit,” Boss said as he noticed Half Cocked, Bare Root, and Apple Core walk into the room. 

Sabbath took his talons off the desk and turned to look at Half Cocked, who took a seat in the chair and kicked his hind hooves up onto the desk, leaning back as if he hadn't noticed Boss’s attempt to throw the 3133 crew under the rails.

“Hey, don't look at us, we just haul them. It's your job to see to there needs.” He held his forehooves up.

Bare Root spoke up. “We have been developing new drugs to give the slaves the stamina needed to survive the trip.”

Sabbath didn't look impressed. “Stern is not happy with your lack of collection recently. That's why she sent us, to judge what kind of operation you have going on here. And we are not impressed.”

Boss was keeping her cool, but small beads of sweat started to form across her forehead. “Well when you get back to Fillydelphia, you can tell Stern I have every slaver combing the countryside looking for more slaves. We are just starting to expand our reach. There are multiple towns and homesteads ripe for the picking.”

Sabbath snorted. “Let me give you a warning. If things do not improve soon, Stern is going to send a…” he paused to think.

Condor finished Sabbaths sentence. “There going to send A “special representative” here to improve your operations”.

Apple Core and Bare Root exchanged worried glance. 

“You're here, so where is the train?” Condor turned to face Half Cocked, who was still relaxing in the chair, as he said this. Seeming not to notice the tension building in the room.
Half Cocked looked down at his left hoof. Taped at an imaginary watch with his right hoof. Then brought his hoof to his ear listening for clicking noise from the non existent watch. “Oh, in about 10 minutes.”

The two Griffin looked at each other. “Ponies” Sabbath muttered as they walked out of the door of the office. 

Boss Hoss rubbed a hoof against the brow of her muzzle. “What are we going to do?”

Apple Core started, “I think we should start with chems. Mixing Dash and Buck has given some positive results for the caravans.”

“Ok, we can try that.” Boss knew the stakes and they were trotting a razors edge at the moment.

“Sure, till you get the dosage wrong and now we have to deal with 200 charged up slaves crammed into a tight car,” Half Cocked stated as he examined his right hoof. Faking more interest in the chips in his hoof then the current topic.

Boss looked back at Apple Core with a raised eyebrow.

“I can assure you, we have it worked out.” 

Bare Root had been sitting on an idea for a while now, and now was as good of time as any to purpose it. “What if we started getting into the foul market? There easier to control and train. You only have too kill one and the rest will stay in line. I know they can't do the work of a grown pony, but we can always play up the investment angle.”

Boss contemplated this. “Not a bad idea. We will have to start reaching out farther anyway we do it. Start hitting up the outlying rock farms.”

“You could always stop beating the shit out of them.” Half Cocked said.

All eyes turned to the large grey station standing beside Boss Hoss. 

Having not said a word yet, Whip Crack looked back, “What? I like beating them.” A deep growl and a sadistic grin on his face as he said this. 

Boss Hoss turned back to face her lieutenants. “Bare Root, your still keeping those records?”

“Yeah, I had to clean a lot of 200 year old messages off the terminal. Got all but one that seems locked,” Bare Root explained, “Mind telling me the point of records keeping?”

“Yes I do. Be sure to make a note about everything that has happened here. And do it soon, All three of you are going with our pegasus friend here on this run. See that it goes smooth.” 

The three ponies gave a sharp nod then headed for the door. There was work to be done this evening. 



*** *** ***



Two apples sat on a bar. A magical glow enveloped them as their shapes shifted into glass shot glasses filled with an amber liquid. Apple Whiskey’s horn quite glowing as he took the the four caps.

Another slow night at Turnpike Tavern. But it had been a day for a drink. Railright growned. Feeling a heavy weight of responsibility hanging over him as he threw back his shot glass relishing the whiskey burn as it went down. 

“I reckon it’s going to take a few more of those to drown out this day,” Calamity said, taking a seat on a bar stool next to Railright. 

Railright just grunted. “It's going to get worse before it gets better.” 

Calamity just looked over at Railright. “You could do something about it,” he said, throwing back his apple shot.

Railright shot him a glare.

“This stuff ain’t bad, but ever tried wild pegasus?” Calamity responded, ignoring the glare, 

“We need more wagon caravans,” Railright gruffed, “This town is going to die if we keep depending on that train.” Taking a heavy breath he asked, “Calamity, I need you do me a favor. I need you to try and get more caravans to come into town. Don't go east, there is nothing good east. Try running the 52 if you have to. Talk to the White Apples or go see what is in San Anponyo. But we need to do more trading if we want to survive.”

Calamity considered the request. It’s not like the stallion was asking for to much. Calamity was already a wasteland veteran and typically traveled the Equestrian Midwest. “Would it stop you from trading with slavers?” he purposed.


Ting… ting…. Tiiiiinnnng….


Three strums of a guitar rang out from the stage, catching every ponies attention. Drumstick sat behind his drum set starting into a tap, tap, TAP. tap, tap TAP rhythm that seemed to mimic the chugging of a steam engine. Six Strings started singing in a deep baritone voice. A smooth, rich vocal that could touch your very soul.


There's a long black train


Coming down the line


Feeding off the souls, that are lost and crying


Dirty, tired ponies stood fetlock deep in pony shit and mud, locked in rusted steel pens. Steam driffed above the ground as a bright orange and yellow sky lit up the cloud curtin on the horizon backlighting the Hellbound Express. The black engine sat idle next to the line of slave pens. Dark purples and mixed strips of neon greens drifted out of the smoke stacks. To the dirty ponies in the cages, this was death itself. They could feel the heat radiating off the boiler, and even though this giant steel beast sat, almost majestic on the rails, they knew there was a burning fire in her soul. A blistering passion that would consume everypony, slave, slaver, and crew alike. Patiently waiting to drag them to the pits of hell.


Rails of sin, only evil remains


Watch out brother, for that long black train


As the light faded to grey, Apple Core and Bare Root walked on catwalks above the cages as loading ramps were moved into place. Whip Crack moved through the cages, pushing the slaves out of the pens and down toward the chutes. Crack! Rearing up on his hind legs, the whip sliced through the air again. Crack! The whip struck the hide of a seafoam pony as it dropped into the mud. She had been a beautiful mare, the most beautiful mare in her whole village. She was a sister, a daughter, and the bride of a honest stallion. He was a hard worker and together they were carving out a life in this horrible world. She had cried tears of joy when she found out they were going to have a foul. Now, she cried tears of pain. Her love now dead and her baby lost as dark crimson blood seeped from slash's cut deep on her sides and flank. Whip Crack smiled as he brought a hard hoof into the mares soft underbelly. 


Look to the heavens


You can look to the skies


You can find redemption


Staring back into your eyes


Porter sood on one side of the loading ramp, IV on the other. As ponies slowly walked into the car IV checked their health, giving health potions and casting simple healing spells. Porter, clipboard in hoof, noted cutie marks, health rating, and recorded “inventory”. A mare, seafoam in color limping bad was next in line. IV flinched, poor girl was hard to look at. Face black and blue, right eye swollen shut, and deep lacerations on her side. Her vaginal cavity was scared and scabbed. She had seen many rappings to receive this much damage. With a hardened attitude of fixing product, IV reduced the swelling, mended broken ribs, and wrapped the wounds nn healing bandages. Finally, IV gave the mare a tablet, mix of Buck and Rage. The dosage of the drugs were unknown, but it would give the seafoam mare enough energy to walk up the ramp and into the car.


There is protection, and there's peace the same


Burnin' your ticket, for that long black train


A small, young, dark blue buck was next on the ramp. IV floated up a small drug tablet and a canteen of water, which the colt drank from. One of his ears was split, and a few of his teeth had been knocked out. IV went to apply medical bandages when she notice this young bucks lack of a cutie mark. He was just a young colt, and not the first IV had seen this night. IV couldn't meet the foal’s tear soaked eyes. Children were hard. Unlike adults, they didn't have a chance to save themselves. But she steeled her heart and moved onto the next one as the nameless colt struggled with his hooves to walk into the car.


There's an engineer, on that long black train


Making you wonder, if your ride is worth the pain


Coal stood on the top of the cattle car, overseeing the loading process. Two griffins also paced back and forth across the top of the car looking for trouble. Coal scanned the rail yard and holding pens. Looking down, he saw weakness. He knew that these ponies were where they were meant to be. The strong rule over the weak. That was the natural order of the waste. If these ponies were stronger they would be free. Looking over at Half Cock he found him sitting behind a monster of a rifle. In situation that could go sideways, Half Cocked pulled out Destiny, a 50. caliber Anti Machine Rifle. The pinnacle of small arms projectile weapons. Half Cocked scanned over the pens, tracking both slavers and slave alike. 


He's just a waitin', on your heart to say


Let me ride, on that long black train


A massive beast of a pony, Dark red with toxic yellow eyes and wearing multiple chain hoof cuffs emerged through the opening of the chutes. This stallion dwarfed the two slavers on either side of him, who were large in there own right. Coal was surprised by the size of this one. Weakness was the last things this massive pony portrayed. Both Porter and IV stared up at the massive pony in aww and fear. Porter’s Pencil fell to the mud as her jaw dropped. IV’s hooves shook in fear as she fumbled with a healing bandage. Half Cocked choked up on Destiny, taking a tight grip. If it goes down, this is when that would be. 


Well I can hear, the whistle from a mile away


It sounds so good


But I must stay away


No longer confined in the chute, the giant pony looked at either staver standing next to him. He then looked right at IV. Their eyes met and IV felt her heart stop as he gave her a small smile. With unimaginable speed, the stallion reared up swung a massive hoof into the skull of the slaver to his right, cracking it. Brain and blood ejected itself from behind the ponies eyes. Before the slaver’s lifeless body collapsed into the mud, the red stallion looped his chains around the other slavers neck. Pulling back with tremendous might, the chain tightened around the slavers neck and began to dig into his hide. Harder the massive slave pony pulled, cracking of vertebra and the crushing of his windpipe split the air. The slaver pony’s eyes bulged out as his fore hooves tried grabbing at the chain. Blood was streaming down around all sides of his neck as the chain dug deeper into the muscle till it ripped straight through. The slaver head rolled back into the big ponies forelegs as the body dropped into the mud.


That train is a beauty, making everybody stare


But its only destination, is the middle of nowhere


Coal watched the scene as the two griffins began to bring their weapons to bare. He felt a sense of pride watching this stallion take back his freedom. On the inside, Coal could appreciate this stallion. Looking at Half Cocked, he gave a subtle nod. At this range, Half Cocked didn't even have to aim. He pulled the trigger and AMR bucked in his hooves. The giant red pony looked down at the two small mares standing on either side of the loading ramp when the stallions head was liquified by a 6 ounce bullet traveling at 2,800 feet per sec. The round sent a wave of energy rippling around the skull, turning hard bone into powder and brain into pulp. The head exploded in all directions in a shower of gore and pink mist as the bullet exited the cranium and continued on, striking a dirty peach mare behind him center in the chest. Having lost little momentum, the impact drove a small hole through her hide and expanded in the chest cavity, ripping the shoulders apart and blowing the front half of the mare in two, sending blood and internal organs in all directions before coming to rest deep in the mud.


Yes watch out brother, for that long black train


That devil's a drivin', that long black train




*** *** ***


Hooves clicked on polished marble floors. An aqua colored unicorn rushed through the crowded concourse of the Grand Manehattan Terminal, an architectural masterpiece of stone and elaborate granite carvings. it was the crown jewel and corporate headquarters of the Equestrian Transcontinental Railroad. Toner panted as he made it to the elevators. Stomping his hoof hard on the up bottom.

“Come on! Come on!” He slammed the button repeatedly in the vain hope that the elevator doors would open faster. Once the doors opened, he barreled in, prancing in place as he ascended up the skyscraper. When the doors finally opened on floor 76, he galloped into the operations main office.

“How many trains do we have in the Zebrica?!” Toner yelled, catching the attention of every pony in the room.

“Umm we…” several ponies started shuffling through papers.

“Get a massage out to the eastern district! Hold all trains at the Equestrian border! Get every train out of the Zebrica!!”

Every pony stopped and stared at him. This was absurd! Never in company history had they ever completely shut down and abandoned an entire district before.

“Do it now!” Toner snapped before continuing through to the main offices.

Panting hard, he leaned up against the door frame of the corner office to catch his breath. Sitting behind a large polished oak desk was a beautiful ginger mare with several shades of red in a styled mane and tail. Dressed in a grey form fitting suit dress.

“Toner, what is going on?” Daisy Chain said a calm even voice.

Toner, looking stressed and disheveled, pulled out a newspaper with his magic and floated it over to Daisy Chain. Right on the front page, in large bold print read;


Equestria is Going to War


“Princess Celestia has pronounced war against the Zebra empire.” Toner said.

Her only show of emotion was her ears moving to lay flat against her skull. She paused as calculations and priorities ran through her mind.

She was an amazing mare. All the stress of running a railroad, yet she always seemed calm and cool. She always had a solution to every problem. She demanded the best from every pony including herself.

“Hault every train from going into the Zebrica. And get evey train out of the country”

“I have ma’am.” Toner replied.

Daisy Chain got up and began walking toward the elevators. After heading up to the top floor, she entered the antechamber of the CEO’s office. A beautiful young white mare with purple shaded mane sat at the receptionist desk.

“Miss Chain, umm…. Mr. Rail has requested not to be interrupted by any pony.” Glitter Pop stammered. She was a nice mare, if a bit dim.

Daisy Chain knew she had been personally hired by Gin Rail more for her looks then her ability.
Daisy Chain glared at her. “Are you going to stop me from seeing my brother?”

Realizing she was caught in a hard spot, she began to panic. She could not refuse an order from the vise president of operations. Yet, letting her in would disobey the company president. Yet, it would be rude to not to let Miss Chain see her brother.

“Well…. Umm…” she said in a panic. Fumbling with papers and knocking a pencil holder onto the ground. When she bent down to pick up the pencils with her mouth, Daisy rolled her eyes and just kept walking through the doors.

“Umm… Ma’am…. You can’t go in there.”

“Its ok Glitter. Nothing would have stopped her.” Toner said, walking up to her desk. His magical glow engulfed the pencil holder and pencils, lifting them back onto the desk.
“Thanks, Toner. Its just, I’m thankful to have this job. I can’t afford to lose it.”

“Oh, fret not my dear. In my experience, it’s best not to get in the way of sibling rivalry.”

As Daisy walked in, three ponies were laughing. Sitting behind a giant, gaudy walnut desk sat a thin, lanky blue stallion, reclining in a high back executive chair with his hind legs kicked up on the desk. A ribbon of smoke rose up from a cigar Gin Rail was smoking.

“Gentalcolts, I believe we are going into a new age of prosperity!”

“Gin, my good buck! We can assure you that this will make all of us very rich!” A dull yellow unicorn with a red and white striped mane said.

“Remember, Gin, every challenge is just an opportunity in disguise!” the other pony said. They both spoke very quickly and played off of each other. But the way they talked, they just sounded sleazy, it made her hide crawl.

Daisy trotted up and cut between the two dull yellow ponies in matching pinstripe suits. She tossed the newspaper at her brother. “Did you know about this?

“Daisy!” Gin said with surprise as he sat up. Looking at the paper headline. He folded the paper back up and sat it gently on the desk. “Of course I did. Princess Celestial made preliminary announcements last night.”

“And you didn't want to give the rest of us a heads up?! We have trains in hostile territory now!” 

“We wouldn't have wanted to give those filthy zebra's a warning of what was coming,” Flim added.
“Wouldn't want to give any disadvantage to our good fighting bucks of Equestria,” Flam said, smoothly finishing Flam’s sentence. 

Noticing Daisy Chains anger, Gin Rail quickly brought their meeting to an end. “Gentalponies, I will definitely be in contact with you.”

Being a expert in figuring out what wasn’t said, Flim and Flam turned toward the door. “Of course, Gin. Next time though, how about we bring you out to Las Pegasus to finalize the deal?” Flim said with a bit too much charm. 

“That is a wonderful idea brother! We could make a weekend out of it!” Flam finished. 

“We will put something on the books,” Gin Rail responded. 

As the two business ponies walked out the door, Flam looked at Daisy. “Miss Chain.” His voice was dripping with contempt as he said this. 

Toner walked in and sat in a cushion next to Gin's desk. Daisy always liked him to be at her meetings. Saved time on filling him in later.

Once the door was closed behind the swindling business ponies, Daisy whirled on Gin Rail.

“How could you have known and sent trains into the Zebrica! You put ponies lives at stake!” Daisy yelled, unleashing all her anger and stress. 

“Like Flim and Flam said, we couldn't raise any suspicion. Plus, we need to get as much coal from them as we could. We haven't sent them any gem trains in a week.” Gin was calmly coming around the desk. “Our country is at war now, sis. Things are going to change, and we need to get ahead of the curve.” 

“Is working with those con-ponies part of your plan?” Daisy said, still feeling like she needed a shower after being around those two. 

“Actually yes, they just became chair pony for one of our largest customers. Hippocampus Inc.” Gin had a slight smile on his lips at Daisy’s look of disgust. 

Feeling her emotions starting to get the better of her, she composed herself. “Not what I would call the best business move. Taking over Equestria's largest energy producer which runs solely on coal.” 

“Well, you see, they have a contingency for that,” Gin said, trying to maintain control over the conversation.

“Of course they do”

Sighing, Gin went on “They found Equestrian coal reserves in the Smokey mountain's.” As a after though he continued. “Though, we are having some trouble with the locals.” 

“Are you surprised? Have you seen any reports on this coal? Sight surveys? Land deeds? Any legal documentation?”

“Well… no.” Gin said a bit timidly. “But that's what our next conference will be about.”

“The one in Las Pegasus? I'm sure that will be a productive meeting.” Daisy said dryly. 

“Well that, and they’re looking into alternative energy,” Gin said a bit defensively. “We are looking into solar power. There are plans in the works to build a solar array outside the Everfree Forest. The hope is to offset our demand for coal.”

“And what about us? Our entire fleet of motive power depends on coal!” Daisy could feel her brother slipping. It was like backing a rat into a corner. 

“We have plenty of reserves to get us through this.”

“We have ten months of reserves. A year if we cut trains and increase the length of others,” Toner said dryly. 

“Excellent!” Gin Rail said with enthusiasm.

“No, Gin, the labor unions are not going to agree to that.” Daisy reminded him.

Gin contemplated that. “It's being said this war should be over by Hearth's Warming!” 

Daisy looked over at Toner who just shook his head. “Of what year Gin?”

Gin Rail just stammered.

“What is your plan after we burn through our reserves? What of the millions of bits we spent on those 4-8-8-4 engines?” Daisy said.

“Those big bucks are the most state of the art engines we have ever bought!”

“One is stuck in Zebrica, two are sitting in round houses in Hoofington. And ELW is six months late on the 4th engine. Plus three more on order.” Toner informed them. 

“Cancel the three on order.” Daisy said.

“Wait one Apple bucking minute! We can't just go canceling orders!” Gin Rail said.

“Gin, why would we buy more coal burning engines when we don't have any coal to burn?” Daisy said.

“But I made a promise….”

“Stop, Gin. I don't care what you promised. I’m not going to let you make decisions that could tank this company.” she said calmly.

He nickered and glared hard at her. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it! It’s all numbers for you! You need to start understanding our social obligations to Equestria!”

Daisy Chain just stared at her brother as he started on his angry decent. No amount of logic could bring him back now.

“You know they talk about you, in the highest circles! You know an appearance in Canterlot would really help out your reputation.”

“My work speaks for my reputation. I don’t care about anything else.”

“Well you should!” Gin snapped “Because it’s not just your name at stake here!” 

“Gin!” Daisy Chain snapped back, getting his attention.”I don't play politics. That's your job, I’m trying to run a railroad.”

He paused, staring at her. Ears laid flat. “The Grand Galloping Gala is coming up…”

That was the final straw. She hated the Gala! And not like how everypony else hated the Gala. Daisy flat refused to play the part. Getting back on her hooves, she turned to Toner. 

“Get those trains at the border turned around. Let’s see what we can do to get that last train out of Zebrica.” Turning, Daisy and Toner left the CEO’s office to the sound of Gin Rails futile efforts to get an upper hoof on his sister.


***Achievement***



Heart of Stone


You have turned a blind eye to the horrible acts against your fellow equine. Sure, you might not be the one who is cracking the whip, but are you doing anything to help the wasteland? Good luck sleeping at night.


---Character Profile---


Overdrive

Gender: Male
Race: Earth Pony
Color: Sand tan with dark brown mane
Cutie Mark: Railroad crossing sign
Job: Engineer
Home town: Ironworks EQ