> Fallout: Equestria - Bounty Hunting
>  by WeaponPrime
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Rust Rail
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The town, if you could call such a small thing that, had all but emptied into one building at its center. A lone figure trotted calmly down the middle of the main thoroughfare, the road’s only purpose seeming to be to lead ponies right up to the saloon’s front doors. Twangy guitar music and the constant din of too many voices talking at once practically vibrated the ramshackle structure on its foundation. He paused, taking a moment to straighten his combat barding before he reached out with his magic and pulled open the heavy wood door. Inside was near deafening as dozens of ponies, a few griffins and even a buffalo all talked to one another over their preferred vintage of rotgut, moonshine and other homebrewed liquids that will make you blind. Very few paid him any mind as he winded his way through the crowd. In the back of the room a door swung open and a colt scurried out, a tray of steaming food-like items balanced on his back. He hurried around the room, depositing plates in front of patrons before disappearing back through the door. 

A bored looking pale purple unicorn mare stood behind the bar, her pink magic enveloping a dirty glass and an even dirtier rag as she ‘cleaned’ the former with the latter. 

“Ain’t seen you for a while.” she said, as she looked the stranger up and down. “Can’t say it’s a pleasure to be seeing you now.”

The blue unicorn stallion squeezed between two others, leaned against the bar and gave the bartender his best, disarming smile. It might’ve worked had he been a little younger, hadn’t been missing a significant portion of the right side of his face and if he was still alive. Being a ghoul tended to bother others. Maybe it was the putrefaction, the sloughing or the tendency for ghouls to become feral.  Maybe it was all three. But that never let it stop him from being as downright pleasant as he could to a pretty mare.

“‘Ey there, Violet. Still as cheerful as ever I see,” he responded, “Gimme a shot o’ your finest, throat-burniest rotgut.”

Violet leveled a disinterested stare on the stallion but didn’t make a move for any bottles as she continued to clean the glass levitated to her side.

“How ‘bout you pay me for the last time, and then maybe I won’t have my muscle throw you out by your greasy hide.” she replied flatly. The large buffalo trotted over, as though he were somehow summoned by Violet’s distaste for the stallion. He quickly glanced at the buffalo bouncer, placed a hoof on his breast and offered Violet his most pained look, again thwarted by his ghoulish nature.

“Now Vi, I’m ‘urt. Ya know I always pay you when I’m not working,” he said.

“That’s just it Sentinel, you’re ALWAYS working. And I always relent,” She responded, as she tossed the rag into his face and set the glass down on a shelf behind her. “Not this time though. Pay your debts and then maybe, MAYBE I’ll get you a drink.” The buffalo snorted in agreement, but made no move of his own. Sentinel’s hazy blue magic engulfed the rag and pulled it free.

“Right, right. Sorry, love, but the wasteland always needs the skills of a pony such as myself. Just lemme ask ya a question right quick and then I’ll find me wallet.,” he said as he leaned an elbow on the bar and gesturing for Violet to lean closer. With a roll of her eyes she complied. “You ‘ear of a bloke what goes by the name o’ Duster?”

A pair of ears flicked casually in his direction.

“Maybe. Why?” Violet responded, her perpetually bored look giving away nothing.

“Well, I might be lookin’ ta collect a bounty on ‘is ‘ead. Seems ole Duster went and pissed off my employer somethin’ fierce. I’ve been offered a mess a caps ta bring ‘im in.”

Violet shrugged and gestured around.

“Ya got something more than a name? A description perhaps?” she asked. “Shit, even a species would narrow it down better.” Sentinel nodded and screwed up his face as he struggled to recall details.

“‘Ang on, ‘ang on. Memory ain’t what she once was,” he said. “Now lessee. ‘E’s a brown earth pony…” Sentinel held out a hoof, “‘bout this tall,” he continued, “and is tryin’ ta sneak out tha front while me back is turned.” Sentinel whipped around and telekinetically launched a large combat knife from its sheath hooked to his barding across the saloon. The blade buried itself in the wood of the door with a resounding thunk, just inches in front of a stallion’s nose. He stared at it wide eyed before slowly looking in shock towards Sentinel. Instantly the bar fell silent as all eyes were either on the knife, the stallion or Sentinel.

Damnit all. I missed… Sentinel thought as he stepped away from the bar. 

“Ya must be Duster, am I roight?” The stallion swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his temple as his eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that would help him escape.

“I don’t want any shootin’ or bloodshed in my bar, Sentinel!” Violet barked loudly.

“Yeah, yeah. No shootin’. Anythin’ fer a bird like you,” Sentinel said as he hooked a foreleg around Duster’s neck and pulled him close like they were bosom buddies. Duster winced and turned his face away from what remained of the ghoul’s.

“C’mon Duster, ‘ole friend,” he said as the knife wiggled free of the door and repositioned itself on the underside of Duster’s jaw. “Let’s ‘ave us a nice, civil chat.”

Sweat dripped down the stallion’s brow as Sentinel’s magic began to tug at the door. His eyes darted back and forth and he saw dozens of eyes all looking in their direction.

“T-ten thousand caps!” he suddenly shouted. Sentinel’s brow rose slightly and the knife moved to point at Duster’s face..

“Oy! Don’t you d-” he started, but Duster cut him off.

“Ten thousand to the first one that kills this stupid zombie and gets me out of here!” 

All across the bar came the sounds of chairs being scooted across the wooden floor and of weapons being drawn or primed.

“HOLD IT!”

Violet’s sharp cry drew every eye in the bar. She stood with her forehooves on the bar, a nasty looking combat shotgun held in her magic that would leave just about any man feeling woefully inadequate in comparison. Next to her stood her buffalo bouncer, a small hold-out pistol clenched between his jaws.

‘Atta girl, Vi. Don’t let these blighters ‘urt your ‘ole pal, Sentinel… he thought with a smile.

“Before any of you idiots get some stupid idea about tryin’ to claim that bounty,” she said, panning the shotgun across the room, “You remember that there ain’t no bloodshed in my bar!” Sentinel’s smile widened and he gave Duster a smug look. “Take’em outside and THEN kill’em!”

Sentinel’s face fell and all eyes returned to him, now accompanied by devious grins.

“W-wait…” Sentinel said, backing up against the door, “Vi... Darlin’... Ya don’t mean that,” She shrugged her shoulders dispassionately.

“Maybe this’ll remind ya to pay your damned tab,” she said flatly.

Sentinel’s jaw worked soundlessly as dozens of retorts rolled around his head. The bar patrons slowly closed in on him and backing him further against the door. Finally, he pointed a hoof at her and scowled.

“When I’m through with this… you… me,” he said, gesturing back and forth between them, “There’s gonna be words. ‘ARSH words.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” she said, her shotgun lowering. Sentinel kicked out with a rear leg, knocking the door open, slammed Duster’s head against the door frame and telekinetically shoved his limp form out into the street. He rolled end over end before coming to a rest on the flat of his back in the middle of the street.

Sentinel stepped out and immediately leapt aside. There was a loud crack of a hunting rifle followed by a portion of the door frame exploding outwards in a shower of splinters as some overzealous fool opened fire inside the bar. Sentinel rolled to his hooves and scrambled around the corner and out of sight as Violet’s angry shouts spilled from the open door.

“Hey! Moron! What did I just say?! Get that idiot out of here, Tramples!”

Sentinel vaguely heard a snort followed by heavy hoof falls that practically shook the building on its foundation. A scream rang out as a wiry pony clad in dirty leather barding flew bodily through the window and skidded on his face for an almost comical amount of time. Ponies spilled out of the bar after him, weapons clenched in teeth or levitated by magic and pointing in every direction. They milled about the front door, eyes darting this way and that as a large griffin pushed them all aside and and craned his head around.

“Where’d that stupid rotter get to?” the griffin hissed.

“Is that any way ta treat a veteran a the war!?” Sentinel barked. Dozens of heads and weapons all whipped in the direction of his voice, training on their prey.  Sentinel spun around the corner in front of them, his horn glowing. Immediately eyes widened and bowels loosened as they caught sight of the unicorn smiling and the very large machine gun he controlled. 

“Shoulda stayed in the bar, mates,” Sentinel’s milky eyes narrowed and the machine gun began to roar.