Factions vie for control of Baltimare as a threat rises from the south.
Half Mast always was a peculiar mare. Taken with dreams of saviors, heroes, and distant lands heard from the barely legible remains of burnt and ruined books. Acting as a caravan master in hopes of finding those distant lands, Mast’s life is about to change forever.
Baltimare always has been fought over, but now, a whisper of a new faction comes from the south, and the roar of ancient projects below reawaken.
Rocks, perhaps the most common of all features decorating the Wasteland. Sure, Raiders are numerous, and assholes are around every bend, but they don’t hold a candle to rocks. Indeed, rocks are everywhere, and that is wonderful. What is a rock? It’s a mystery, just waiting for somepony to come along and look under it. What hides under a rock? A scorpion mostly, but sometimes… sometimes you find something-
“Mast! Get your head screwed back on!”
I blink out of my thoughts, as a nearby stallion shouts at me. Brown, large in size, wearing light leather armor, and carrying a gun by his side. I smile, “You know, Sentinel, you’re like a rock in many-“
He rolls his eyes, interrupting, “Mast.”
I grin, “You are being such a killjoy today, Sentinel. I simply wished to give a dramatic internal mon-“
He narrows his eyes slightly, “Mast.”
I smile, trotting over and lightly hitting him on the leg, “Oh, fine, since you insist, I’ll pay more attention. But it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
He nods, returning to scanning the Wasteland around our small caravan. Two carts, being pulled by some young stallions, laden to the brim with goods, trundling along behind us, kicking up a miniature dust storm.
I look ahead, blinking as I see simple structures in the distance, “Are we already there?”
Sentinel nods, trudging forward at the same steady pace, “Yes. No thanks to your spacing out.”
I grin, “You sound bitter, Sentinel. What, do you want me to share it with you? Well, don’t mind if I do, Sentinel, you see, rocks are-“
He looks over at me, speaking over me, “A mystery waiting to be solved.”
I pause, and blink, shrugging and continuing to trot ahead, “Yes, well… it’s true, really. You never know when a rock might be-“
He looks back towards the slowly approaching town, “A diamond.”
I look at him, rushing forward and turning around to look into his eyes, “Now, now, Sentinel, one more interruption and it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
He rolls his eyes, trotting past me, “As if I-“
I grin, interrupting him, “Even get a paycheck to begin with.”
He looks back at me, slowly grinning, “Now there’s Mast.”
I grin more, trotting up to and beside him, looking forwards at the approaching town. Or village, really. Is there even really a town left in Equestria? Certainly no cities, not by Pre-War definitions. Sadly there’s no Wasteland Census, though there should be, it’s really useful. As for this… village, it’s a simple affair. The buildings seem to be made out of stolen Pre-War bricks mixed with stone and some scrap metal, creating a very… rushed look to it all, like a filly’s combat armor when she wants to go with her mom to Zebrica. Ponies trot around the whole village, selling various goods that can’t be made out from so far.
I look over at Sentinel, “I am serious, though, rocks are important. Just look at this place. At one time, only rocks were here, but ponies came together to build it all up.”
He glances over, “You sound like an old filly’s book.”
I smile, “But it’s true! Ponies can do just such amazing things, right? Not even the end of the world could keep us down, we just got right back up and started to rebuild!”
He nods, “Not always a good thing, Mast.”
I nod, and sigh, “Yeah, yeah, slavers, Raiders, yada-yada. But still, we can do great things, Sentinel. You just need to have a bit of belief.”
He shrugs, as we reach the village proper. I look down the central road, until my eyes happen upon a weapon’s shop. I grin, grabbing some bags from the carts behind me, depositing them on my back and trotting up to the shop, “Sentinel, sell the rest of the stuff for water, food, and medicine. And try not to scare the merchants to death.”
I trot on, feeling the force of an eye roll from Sentinel. A very magical thing, that, being able to feel the rolling of somepony’s eyes without seeing them. Makes me wonder why I never asked him to teach me the trick, though perhaps he wouldn’t want to give up the forbidden magic.
The shop that I approach is pretty simple, a purple mare standing behind a counter, and most of the shop empty. I trot up to the counter, and smile to her, “Half Mast, Rainy Roads Carvan.”
The mare smiles back, leaning on the counter some, “Powder, sugar, how can I help ya?”
I blink after she speaks, taking a moment to process her accent. Not very refined, in fact, very unrefined, yet pleasant to the ear. Appleloosan, perhaps, or maybe from the southern jungles. I shake my head clear off thoughts, and nod to her, creating a perfectly diagonal motion, “A fine day, Powder, I’m looking for a lot of five millimeter bullets, as many as you can sell.”
She grins, “Five mil? Ain’t an ammo type one asks for, ‘less they got a big ass gun.”
I smile and nod, “Well, I’m not buying for myself, Powder. Now, don’t make this a rumor, but I do have some good relations with Steel Rangers in Baltimare, who chew through ammo like a starving foal with a can of beans. So they are paying quite a lot for five millimeter rounds, and I plan on making a profit from buying from you and selling to them.”
She grins more, leaning closer, “So you’re telling me, sugar, that then Steel Rangers are buying five mil for a lot?”
I nod again, “Well, yes, Powder, I believe I did just say that.”
She smiles, “And tell me, sugar, why should I sell to you, when I could just sell to them?”
I smile back, “Well, Powder, two reasons. Firstly, any profit you would make by directly selling to them would be less than the cost of hiring a caravan or group of ponies to properly transport the ammo and barter with the Rangers. Therefore, it would be a bad business venture, and draw unwanted attention to your little village. Secondly, because I am asking nicely.”
She grins, looking me in my eyes for a second. After a moment of silence, she nods, “Can’t say you’re wrong, sugar. I got around five hundred five mil that’s just collecting dust in the back room. I’ll give them all to you for… a thousand caps.”
I nod, depositing a sack onto the counter, and opening it up, “Counter deal. You will give it to me for two leather bardings, a Stable Suit with it’s number removed, three ten millimeter pistols with ammo included, and a thank you.”
She looks at the assorted items, and nods, “That’ll work.” She turns around, opening a hidden door on the back wall of her shop, and coming out carrying a bin, clinking with ammunition inside. She places it down, allowing me to immediately pick it up, and begin to trot out. She grins, “You’re forgetting something, sugar.”
I turn around, a moment that unwittingly saved my life, for as I open my mouth to thank the mare, a flaming bottle of alcohol barely misses my head. Instead, it slams into the counter Powder is leaning against, instantly exploding in a mixture of flames and glass shards, catching onto Powder’s fur.
Fight or flight is a very curious thing in ponies. When presented with a difficult, dangerous, or stressful situation, the body and mind are forced to choose. Do we run away in fear, or do we fight and struggle? It’s a false dichotomy, as there’s a middle ground. Freeze. The brain is too shocked by what it sees, and stops. You simply stop and stare in horror, unable to move an inch. I saw a mare burning in front of me, and I chose to freeze.
Powder quickly catches ablaze, four separate fires starting all over her body, and quickly spreading to her highly flammable fur. Only when I could smell burning hair and flesh did I think to react, and by then, it was too late. Powder had stopped making noise, leading to the realization that she was screaming, and stopped moving at all. In light of the horrifying sight in front of me, I turned tail and ran, forgetting about my ammunition entirely.
Outside wasn’t better.
The streets of the village were full of ponies of three types. The running and screaming, the standing and fighting, and the odd. The ‘odd’ being a very descriptive term, as they were. Ponies wearing near ancient looking armor, painted red and gold, running around the streets with machetes, knives, and only very few rudimentary guns. One in particular carries a bunch of alcohol, and a lighter.
A pony runs into me from the side, knocking me to the ground in pain and shock. I blink the dust out of my eyes, looking to see a terrified stallion running by, another mare running into him, bowling the two of them over into the path of one of the odd ponies. The armored mare, accompanied by two friends, immediately sets to beating up the two, armored hooves creating sickening cracks over the sound of fires, running, and screaming.
All around the town, similar scenes happen. Scared village ponies being beat down by armored hooves, then tied up and toted to the center of the town. A few foals run around, shouting for parents, and other foals twitch on the ground, trampled by the stampede of frightened ponies. A few village ponies attempt to fight back, shooting at the armored ponies with low caliber weaponry, only injuring one or two before being rapidly cut down. Smoke fills the air from buildings like Powder’s, creating a sickening haze over-
I’m knocked out of my thoughts as I’m roughly grabbed, and pulled behind Powder’s shop. Sentinel looks at me, “Mast, get up. We need to go, now.”
I blink, and slowly get up, “Right… get going.”
His eyes narrow, “Mast, I’m serious, snap back. I need you here and now, not lost.”
I nod, shaking my head, once more creating a diagonal motion, “Okay, okay, I’m back. Shit, yeah, we need to go, now.”
He nods, flicking out a trigger for his battle saddle, the hunting rifle on it chambering a bullet. He begins to trot down the little side street, trying to keep out of side, heading for the edge of the village. I follow behind as quietly as I can, trying not to focus on the ponies calling out for help from behind me. I sigh, and whisper to him, “I didn’t get the ammo. Fuck.”
He looks back, “I didn’t think this would happen today, Mast, I’m sorry you’re getting caught up in it.”
I pause, quickly starting back up to keep up, “Sentinel?”
He looks ahead, steeling his gaze, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you later, once we’re safe.”
I frown slightly, “No, Sentinel. You can speak as we escape. If you’ve been doing something behind my back, I want to know.”
He looks at me, scowling, “Fine. These ponies are about to be-“
He’s cut off by a loud bang.
His talk quickly turns to gurgling, as blood begins to flood from his neck.
Blood is always right around the corner in the Wasteland. Iron, crimson, staining whatever it touches. Some find themselves far from it, in peaceful places, with peaceful ponies, yet it always catches up. And now, it runs freely from Sentinel’s neck, staining his fur as it follows the path of gravity.
I snap my head to where the shot came from, seeing one of the village ponies stood there, trembling, a single shot rifle help shakily.
Anger is a curious thing. To some, it is an all encompassing rage and energy. To others, it’s a cold hatred, logical, calculated, focused entirely on removing the object of hatred. To a few, it’s almost like passing out. One moment, you feel emotions swell inside of you, and the next, you stand over the dead body of a farming pony, a bloody cut across his neck, and a still dripping knife in your mouth.
I look down on the dead farmer, scowling and putting my knife back into it’s sheathe, right next to my neck. I look back at Sentinel, but he’s still and dead, his hoof outstretched towards me. I look away, trying to blink away the tears before they can escape. No time to mourn, no time to cry… only escape. Yet still, I hesitate as I raise my hoof, wishing it was all a bad dream.
The approaching stamping of hooves forces me to move, and move quickly. I gallop past the dead farmer’s body, and rush past the final building of the village. Gunshots come from behind me, the buzzing of near misses whizzing by my ears, a cacophony of close calls.
I wait until the village is far behind me before I risk taking a look back. The smoke on the horizon is all that’s visible, looks like the odd ponies didn’t try to chase me. I sigh, taking a moment to sit and rest, my mind flashing with images of blood and death.
My ears pick up approaching hooves, many of them, causing me to jump up to my hooves, drawing my knife, still wet from blood. I glare, dropping into a stabbing pose, only to pause as I see the ponies approaching.
A caravan. A silver, grey due to dirt, pair of ponies, mare and stallion, looking at me in concern. The mare, wearing lightweight leather armor and carrying a long range rifle in her battle saddle, speaks first, “You alright, hon?”
I blink as I look at her, “Baltimare. You’re from Baltimare, I’m facing east then. We were from Baltimare, too.”
She smiles, “We?”
I look down, standing up fully and putting my knife away, “Just… never mind. I’m Half Mast, Rainy Roads Caravan.”
The mare nods to me, “I’m Sure Shot, hon, and he’s Sure Shield, Sure Can Caravan.”
Sure Shot nods, drawing my attention to him. He wears heavier metal armor, carrying two shotguns in his battle saddle. A faded red mane cascades down the back of head, like a waterfall of blood. He clears his throat, “And… where is your Caravan, Miss Mast?”
I glance back at the village, as Sure Shot gasps, “Oh! Oh no, hon… it was them damned Legion ponies, weren’t it?”
I look back, and nod, “Presumably. They ambushed the village, I just barely managed to escape. My… my friend didn’t make it…”
She rapidly trots up to me, drawing me into a hug, “Oh hon, I’m so sorry. Just isn’t right, them type of pony running into your type of pony. Wiping out an entire village, too…” She looks over at Shield, “What was it’s name?”
I speak before he can, “It didn’t have one.”
He sighs, looking at the distant smoke, “They’ll pay, Miss Mist, eventually. This isn’t the first place they’ve attacked.”
Shot nods, “They’re a horrible crowd, hon, but I’m sure you know that now. I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, slowly returning her hug, “It’s… it’s not your fault, Shot. I distracted him, he couldn’t see the shooting pony.”
She frowns, “Now I don’t want to hear any of that, hon, it isn’t any of your fault. It’s them Legion what are to blame.”
Shield nods, “We need to let others know. Head back to Baltimare, tell the Traders.”
Shot nods, “He’s right, hon, and you’d better come with us. Just wouldn’t do if I left you out here all by your lonesome. Maybe the other Traders can get you another caravan.”
I sigh, but nod, “Maybe… maybe.” I stand up, and look at them, “I… haven’t been to Baltimare much, all I know is the Rangers there.”
Shot frowns, standing up herself, “Those damn Rangers aren’t any decent folk, they’d kill you for a piece of scrap. No, hon, there’s better out there. Us Traders are a buncha merchants, caravaners, and big shot prospectors. There’s also them BITCHes, a ‘technocratic democracy’. Act like we know what they mean.”
I snort, “BITCHes?”
She nods, and begins to trot back east, “They work outta the old university, BITCH, so they call themselves BITCHes. Aren’t that bad a group, closest thing to an owner of Baltimare. Oh, there’s also some insane preachers, but they ain’t that big.”
I follow after, and nod, “How long will it take to get there?”
She looks back, and smiles, “Depends on the weather, hon. Could be a week or two, or two days.”
I raise an eyebrow, “What kind of weather would cause that much of an increase?”
She grins, “Rain. Trust me, you haven’t seen anything like Baltimare rain.”
My confusion, and eyebrow, spike further up, “Rain? Sure, trotting in the rain is unpleasant, but it isn’t that bad.”
Shield looks over at me, “You’re from Manehatten.”
I pause, and slowly nod, “Yes… I’m from Tenpony Tower originally. I left a while ago. How can you tell?”
He slowly grins, “Manehatten ponies always act like they know rain. Same with Hoofington ponies, always think they know. Trust me, Miss Mast, rain can do a lot more than simply make mud here, and it can certainly do more than make you cold.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he seems to be being serious. After a moment, I shrug, “What’s the worst that rain can do?”
Baltimare’s rain could do quite a lot. It is truly fascinating, to watch something so common and mundane become the talk of the week. Each rain drop was colored a rainbow shade, painting the dark sky in a whirlwind of colors, and just as in old Equestrian nature, bright colors are not a good thing. Wherever the rain fell, something truly odd happened. Giant plants sprouted that mimic the noises around them, giant lizards were created which ate the giant plants, and then a raindrop would hit the lizard and explode it in a fiery blast.
I look over to Sure Shot and Sure Shield, doing their best to hide smug grins, and sigh, “Okay, fine, you both get five bits. I was incorrect and thought I knew everything about Baltimare, is that what you want to hear?”
Sure Shot grins, looking around the ruined arcade that we trot under, making sure to avoid every leaky spot, “Well, hon, I’m just saying… we were right. You weren’t.”
I nod, looking back at the rain, “Fine, you were right, I wasn’t. But you cannot think I should have suspected this in the least.”
She grins more, shrugging, “Maybe not, but you shouldn’t be surprised when stuff gets odd in Baltimare, hon.” She looks ahead, “Now come on, we’re here, hon, get your caravan face on.”
I look ahead, seeing a very large building ahead of me, which the arcade connects to. The building seems to stretch for many blocks, painted many different faded shades of blue. A sign hangs above a large double door set, reading ‘Trader’s Paradise Mall’. However, only ‘Traders’ is lit up, giving the impression from a distance of that being the name of the building. I nod, “A mall. A fitting place to begin a guild of traders.”
Sure Shot smiles, “I know, it’s a great location, isn’t it, hon? But there’s so much more inside.” She trots up to the door, opening them, grinning at me, and nodding me inside, “Go on in, hon.”
I slowly trot in, glancing around the building. It’s split into three floors, each covered in their own types of shops. It seems like the first floor is for food, water, and medical supplies. The second floor seems dedicated to weapons and armor, and other such fighting needs. The final, third, floor has what seems to be a bar, an inn, and many other salesponies of all other products. I smile, “Okay… this is pretty impressive. Everything efficiently organized, able to house many ponies, but where are the guards?”
Sure Shot grins, trotting in beside me, and pointing at a nearby ceiling. Hanging there is a tiny machine shaped like a gun, covered in a cracked black casing, “There, hon. Used to look like security cameras, but then some raiders tried to attack, and we learned they were guns. Plus, ain’t a pony in here, almost, that don’t have a gun.”
I nod, “So you have a militia of customers and turrets defending you. Not impossible defenses, but enough to make everypony want to not fight. It reminds me of a similar place in Hoofington.”
Sure Shield raises an eyebrow, “You’ve been to Hoofington?”
I nod, but Sure Shot speaks before I can explain, “We can always talk more about that later, hon. You’d better go talk to Mister Bit and tell him about the attack first.” She smiles, “He’s in his office always, which is right next to the store called ‘A Bit ‘O Nostalgia’, can’t miss it, hon. We’ll be in the Balti-More Alcohol Inn later, will we meet back up there, hon?”
I smile, “Sure, Miss Shot, if I can. Thank you for escorting me here.” I nod to her, “You are a good example of what ponykind should be, Miss Shot.”
She smiles back widely, “Aww, you’re too kind, hon. I’m just doing my part for Equestria.”
I smile more, “And it is good that you are, Miss Shot. I’ll see you in that Inn.” I then turn, and trot off, scanning the gathered stores for ‘A Bit ‘O Nostalgia’, as Shot said to.
The stores all are run by a mix of unicorns and earth ponies, with no real bias in either direction, and most of the shops seem to be doing moderately well. There’s even one being run by a Griffon, selling freshly cooked Radroach and ‘B.E.M’, whatever that means. Finally, I see ‘A Bit ‘O Nostalgia’, which seems to be run by a unicorn ghoul, selling various pre-war goods. Preserved foods, water served in two hundred year old bottles, surprisingly well-maintained dresses and suits, and a few pre-war posters and magazines.
I trot up to the slightly hidden office door beside the shop, having to jump back to avoid getting hit in the face as the door slams open. A burgundy mare with a golden mane… a cute one, trots out frowning and shouting back into the office, “You are a thieving degenerate, Bit, and don’t be surprised when this comes back to bite you in your rotten flank!” She then marches off, quite angrily judging by how she seems to stomp down with extra force. And yes, I’m watching her trotting pattern, not anything else. Be quiet.
I look back at the office, slowly trotting in and closing the door behind me. I look ahead to see a pinkish unicorn ghoul sat behind a desk, wearing a fine pre-war suit, sighing as he puts his head into his hooves. I clear my throat, “Mister Bit?”
He looks up, making an odd clinking noise as he does, and tilts his hat up. His nearly rotten eyes look at me, before he breaks out into a smile, “You look like a caravan master, Ma’am.”
I nod, trotting closer, and taking a seat across from him, “Half Mast, Mister Bit, Rainy Roads Caravan.”
He grins, and nods to me, offering a hoof, a jingling noise filling the air as he raises it, “Mister Bit, Ma’am Mast, Golden Plunder Caravan.”
I take his hoof, shaking it, “If you don’t mind my asking, Mister Bit, why do you make a clinking noise when you move?”
He pauses, looking at me, and blinking, “Oh, you’re new.” His horn lights up, pulling down the sleeve of his suit, allowing me to see circular lumps throughout his entire leg, “I was a banker, Ma’am Mast, and the Pink Cloud has an awful habit of fusing pony and occupation.”
I blink, “So you’re from Canterlot? I’ve only ever heard legends of your type of ghoul… that they’re nearly impossible to kill.”
He grins, moving the sleeve back down and pulling his leg back, “Why do you think I run the most successful caravan in the Wasteland? If the Zebras couldn’t kill me in Canterlot, Ma’am, then I can assure you that a pony with a rusty assault weapon won’t find success.” He smiles, “Now, Ma’am Mast, what brings Rainy Roads Caravan to my little Mall?”
I look down for a second, and sigh, looking back up, “A village to the west is gone, Mister Bit. A fellow Caravaner, Sure Shot of Sure Can Caravan told me it was by a group called ‘Legion’. My… my caravan got caught inside, I’m the only survivor.”
His smile fades into a soft frown, “Legion. I thought they were supposed to keep to themselves… this is valuable information, Ma’am Mast, and thank you for coming here and telling me. The loss of anypony, let alone a whole caravan, is a tragedy. I offer my condolences, and if there is anything I can do to help you, Ma’am, I will.”
I look at him, and smile slightly, “Thank you, Mister Bit… but I don’t know what you can do.”
He smiles, “I can give you a job, Ma’am. I’m beginning a new route to New Appleloosa, and I’d be honored to have a pony like you take the job. You’re smart, coming to me first with this information, you have experience, and you are as well spoken as I am, if not more. You’ll be paid very richly, you’ll have a home here in Traders, and it will ensure your protection.”
I pause, glancing away to a nearby wall. On that wall, I see a pre-war poster depicting marching Steel Rangers, with text saying ‘Loyalty, Duty, Strength- Mourn When The War is Over, Join The Steel Rangers Today!’
He looks over at the poster, and then back at me, slowly nodding, “Mourn when the war is over.” I look back at him, and he smiles softly, “You lost your whole livelihood, Ma’am, I can’t blame you for wanting to kill those who took it. Believe me, I know the feeling…”
I nod, “I’m sorry, Mister Bit.”
He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry, Ma’am Mast. Finish your war, the position will still be open when you come back. The Traders will always be open to you.”
I smile slightly, and stand up, “Thank you, Mister Bit. Have a good day.” I turn to trot out, only to pause, “Mister Bit, might I ask a small favor?”
He nods, “Of course, Ma’am.”
I glance towards the door, “What, exactly, were you called a ‘thieving degenerate’ for, and can I have it?”
Guns are a fascinating thing; able to pack so much force into a high velocity piece of metal that they alone changed the way wars were fought, and yet small enough to be carried by a single pony. Guns are variable, perfect examples of pre-war Equestria, a piece of equipment that accompanies the modern pony no matter where you go. Melee weapons, however, are so much more interesting. Often crude, taking mental fortitude and strength to use, and usually a poor choice in modern combat. Yet when you see a true melee weapon, you can tell in it’s very foundations that whoever carries it is sure to be a destructive force of death through a battlefield, a hurricane, perhaps comparable to a dancer, jumping from slash to cut to stab to crush.
When Mister Bit pulled out a beautiful, elegant sword from underneath his desk, I was surprised to say the least. It wasn’t of any complicated make, no, it could be made from any piece of scrap metal. But the care to detail, the pure heart that went into it is indescribable for any who use mass produced guns. Slightly curved to allow easier cutting, sharpened and maintained to such a point that it looks almost new, with a handle wrapped in somehow perfectly maintained leather, short enough to be easy to carry, long enough to leave no question about the mortality rate.
I trot out of Mister Bit’s room, new weapon carried in my mouth, and scan the crowds and shops for any sight of the burgundy mare I saw storm out before. Eventually, my eyes catch sight of her golden tail, standing and talking with the Griffon selling meat. Slowly, I begin to trot over to her.
As I approach, I can hear her loud complaints, “That Bit, I swear, two centuries and he still acts like an ass.”
The Griffon nods along, bored, taking a bite out of some grilled radroach. The burgundy opens her mouth to speak again, but I trot up and tap her on her shoulder first.
She turns around to look at me, “Ye- Wait, is that my gladius?”
I nod, holding it out to her. She takes the blade in her teeth, flipping it around, then grabbing the handle and admiring it. I smile a bit, “Sorry, Miss, but I just heard what you said when you exited Mister Bit’s office, and I-“
I’m cut off as she puts the blade into a sheathe near her neck, then wrapping me in a tight hug, “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
I glance away, blushing just a tiny bit… which is just because it’s hot inside the mall. That’s how blushes work, be quiet. Clearing my throat, I smile slightly more, “It wasn’t any trouble, Miss… just asked Mister Bit for it. Really, you should be thanking him, I mean, he’s the one who gave it to me, and thus he should be praised for it, truly.”
She smiles, breaking up the hug and trotting back a step, “Oh, he is not the one I’m going to thank. That degenerate bastard is the reason it was taken in the first place!” She blinks, and shakes her head, calming down a bit, “Sorry, sorry, just… thank you. This is very important to me, and… thank you.”
I smile slightly, rubbing the back of my head because it’s itchy, and that’s all, “Well… you’re welcome. Oh, umm, I didn’t introduce myself? I’m Half Mast, Rainy Roads Caravan.”
She smiles wider, offering her hoof, “Thank you, Half, really. I’m Guiding Way… I don’t belong to anyone. Not anymore.”
I nod, “Well, Miss Way, it was a pleasure to help you getting back your… gladius, as you called it. Umm… have a good day!”
I turn around to trot away, only to stop as she trots up beside me, “Wait, Half… would you… would you want to…”
I look over at her, smiling slightly, and most definitely not blushing, “Would I want to… what, Miss Way?”
She glances away, and then looks back over, “Travel together. Like, explore Baltimare, get some caps… you know, just… being pals and doing cool stuff? You don’t have to say yes! I know you probably have other stuff to do, but-“
I smile, and interrupt her, “I don’t currently have anything to do, Miss Way.”
She smiles widely, “Great! I mean, good… yeah, so, umm, you wanna travel Baltimare? Do some bounties and such?”
I nod, “I think I would be very happy to do some traveling and bounty hunting, Miss Way. I need some caps myself… I have some unfinished business to attend to sometime.”
Way nods, “I do too. It’s a long story, really, but let’s just call it some family issues.”
I sigh, and look ahead, “Yeah… call mine that too, Miss Way, it’s accurate.”
She blinks, “Well… so, bounties? What can you fight with, Half?”
I look over at her, reaching down and drawing my knife from my neck sheathe. I show it off a bit, before slipping it back in, “My knife, Miss Way, I am very proficient in it’s use.”
She smiles, “Oh, good, you use melee too! It’s so rare to find anypony that actually knows how to fight without a stupid gun.”
I smile back, “You have to admit, Miss Way, guns are very efficient. They’re just not as elegant.”
She nods, “Or as skill based. Anypony with half a brain can pick up something and pull the trigger, but it takes a lot more to get up close, figure out where to strike, and then strike without getting hit, you know?”
I nod, “I know, Miss Way, I do indeed know. Now, these bounties you mentioned, where are they?”
She blinks, blushing a bit, “I… don’t know.”
Right as soon as she finishes speaking, the Griffon cook begins to speak, “I gotta bounty offer for you.”
I turn to face him, and nod, “We’re interested.”
He grins, “There’s a group of raiders at the nearby Pony Joe’s, and they’ve been stealing all of my radroach supply. You go there, kill all of them, you get fifty caps.”
I raise an eyebrow, “Fifty caps? You are asking us to risk our lives for you, fifty caps is not nearly enough. One hundred caps, and even that is barely worth it.”
He smiles, “One hundred caps? Done.”
I nod, “One hundred, for both of us. After all, we are both risking our lives, it is only fair we both get paid a life-risking amount.”
He grins, glaring at me for a second, then nodding, “Fine, one hundred caps each. But you only get them when you return.”
I smile, and nod, “Of course, sir, have a good day.” I turn, and begin to trot away.
Way trots with me, glancing back, “I think we just got cheated, Half.”
I nod again, “Maybe, Miss Way, but he’s a Griffon. They don’t give up money easily.”
She smiles slightly, “You’re right, I guess. So I guess we’re officially a team?”
I smile back, and nod, “We are a team, Miss Way.”
———
Footnote: Level Up! (6)
New Companion Perk: Clear Way - While Guiding Way is in the party, all enemies suffer a -5 to DT! In addition, all sharp melee weapons in the party deal additional ‘Bleed’ damage!
Raiders are a fascinating and disgusting facet of the Wasteland. Ponies who have turned away from every ideal the old Equestria spoke of, embracing freedom in the forms of chaos, violence, and right by might. They are a perfect encapsulation of all the problems of-
My side is poked by Way, knocking me away from my musings, “Half, you’re zoning out.”
I blink, and look over at her, “Sorry, Miss Way, I was merely thinking.”
She grins, “What about?”
I pause, “Well… Raiders, Miss Way. To summarize my thought process quickly, I do believe it would be proper to say ‘screw them’.”
She smiles, raising some binoculars to her eyes, “Yeah, no, not even if you paid me. I say we just kill them.”
I blink, “I… that’s not what I meant and you know it’s not what I meant.”
She glances at me, grinning, “Are you going to complain or help me spot threats?”
I look down at the Pony Joe’s, which is the only standing building in a row of destroyed shops, and the filthy ponies trotting about it. Way and I thankfully managed to sneak into a higher position in a building across the street, specifically on the second floor, allowing a slightly higher view of the old building. The building we’re in is heavily damaged, allowing the dim, clouded sunlight in through a broken chunk of roof which shines on us. I look over at Way, “May I see your binoculars, then?”
She smiles, passing them over, “Sure. I’m not the best at spotting things anyway, well, things I should recognize.”
I nod at her, “Well then, leave the scouting to me.” I look through the binoculars at the Pony Joe’s, speaking as I notice details, “It looks like there’s a unicorn with a well-kept shotgun, three earth ponies, two with knives, one with a combat rifle, and another unicorn sat around a dying fire with another earth pony, both unarmed.”
Way nods, looking down there with me, “So… we sneak up as best as we can, take out the shotgun and the combat rifle first. Then, since we’ll be noticed, we fight with the knife ponies, and we should win since we’re more skilled. Finally, we’ll take out the two unarmed ones, since they should pose the least threat.”
I glance over at her, “How can you be sure we are more skilled than the knife carriers, Miss Way?”
She takes the binoculars back, looking down at the ponies, “One is favoring a leg, so he probably has an injury there and will be easier to take out. The other, well, she has a slight bump on her back left leg, meaning she either had some disease or something like that, and will not be able to stand up to our non-diseased selves. We just need to focus on those legs for both of those two.”
I smile slightly, “Very impressive, Miss Way.”
She smiles back, looking my way, “Yeah, well… I was taught good.”
I nod, “Whoever your teacher is should be-“ I look back down at the raiders as I speak, seeing the combat rifle pony raise his rifle in our direction. In fact, he’s looking our way too, and aiming. It’s only at this point that I barely notice a light on his cheek, a reflection from our binoculars. I shout, “Roll!”
Way wastes no time, rolling to the right as I roll to the left. The combat rifle fires with a loud bang, barely missing us and impacting into the broken roof above me. I scowl, crawling further into the building, away from the window and instead towards the stairwell, Way crawling right beside me.
She takes a deep breath, shaking her head, “Well, shit… thanks for seeing that.”
I look at her, “I do appreciate it, Miss Way, but perhaps save the thanks for when we aren’t in danger?”
She nods, “Fair.” She stands up, as we are now out of the way of any firing, “Alright, they’re probably stupid enough to send the knife ponies charging at us, so we should prepare here, at the top of the stairs, since high ground is better than low.”
I nod, rolling to my hooves and drawing my knife from it’s neck-sheathe, “Right…”
We both stand in our fighting position at the top of the stairs for a few minutes. After at least five minutes, Way slowly looks at me, “I think they were smarter than I gave them credit for…”
I look over at her, “So then what’s the plan? Wait until they grow bored?”
She shakes her head, opening her mouth to speak, but pausing right before, one of her ears twitching. She turns to look down the stairwell, as do I.
From down the stairs, echoing it’s way up to us, is the sound of metallic thudding, each loud thud followed by the sound of flooring breaking. Every thud is slow, but powerful and purposeful, slowly growing louder as it draws closer. Way’s eyes widen a bit, “Something big’s coming…”
I listen for a moment more, looking down the stairway. Slowly, I can see bright lights growing stronger with every step, slowly climbing up the stairs. I back away, “Steel Ranger.”
Way looks at me, backing away as well, “Steel Ranger? You can’t be serious… you can’t!”
I look back at her, “I’m afraid I’m deathly serious, Miss Way. We should run.”
She shakes her head, frowning, “No… I’m not running. Some fancy armor isn’t going to stop us, Half.”
I step closer, “Way, this is suicide. If he get close to him, then we are dead. We need to run.”
She scowls, drawing her sword again, “I don’t give a fuck about what we ‘need’, Half. Now are you going to help me?”
As I look in her eyes, I finally realize that Guiding Way might be insane. Those beautiful… by which I mean golden, eyes filled to the brim with confidence and hidden emotions. They sparkle like none other, and after a minute, I realize that… well, maybe we do stand a chance. Perhaps, with our combined skills, we can take down a Steel Ranger.
I nod, drawing my knife, and going next to a wall right near the stairwell. The thuds grow steadily closer, the bright light now shining out of the opening for the stairway, growing brighter with each passing second.
Finally, with two more loud thuds, a metallic head rises out of the stairway, it’s visor staring ahead blankly, and fog lights on either side of it’s head lighting up the room.
As soon as one of it’s hooves touches our floor, I sprung into action, lunging into their side with the sharpest point of my knife. To my surprise, the knife actually cuts into their armor, piercing all the way to the hilt. The only problem is that my face is where the hilt is, resulting in me slamming my face, full force, into tons of metallic armor.
I fall back in pain, my face already bruising, and my nose most definitely broken in some fashion. I hear some metallic chuckling from above me, bringing my sense of sight back as I look to the source. The Steel Ranger looks down at me, its chuckling sounding almost demonic from the voice modulator in the armor. It trots over to me, cracking the floor beneath it, and raises a hoof up high.
Before it can bring it’s hoof down, Way comes springing from behind it. Her sword reflecting the dull Equestrian sunlight as she thrusts it right into the Ranger’s metallic flank. The sword pierces through, almost as if without resistance, causing the Ranger to yell out in pain.
Way begins to draw her sword back out, but the Ranger doesn’t allow that to happen. Before she can pull the blade out and move away from it, the Ranger slams it’s back hoof into her chest. She goes flying back towards a wall, the force of her impact against it cracking away the old material. Crashing onto the floor limply, she coughs roughly, struggling to try and rise, her battered body not allowing it.
The Ranger turns to trot towards her, Way’s sword falling out of the it’s flank from the movement and clattering told the ground in defeat. Every step he takes towards Way carries a promise of death with it. I look at my knife, still lodged into it’s side. Slowly, I stand up, my mind protesting with a heavy sense of vertigo as I regain my footing. As quietly and as quickly as I can, I trot towards Way’s fallen blade, picking it up in my own mouth.
Looking at the Ranger, who now stands a few steps away from Way. With as much energy as I can, I charge forward at it, swinging Way’s sword at it’s neck.
It slashes across the armor of the Ranger’s neck, cutting into the metal and getting stuck in some hydraulics before it can reach the pony within. I try to wrench the sword away, grabbing tightly and pulling with all my force. Suddenly, the Ranger spins around quickly, the spin threatening to send me flying off the blade, but I barely keep hold of it. I learn quickly that that was a mistake, as it slams me and the sword into another wall, the sword flying out of both his armor and my mouth, down to the ground on the other side of the wall.
I groan from the blunt force, looking at the Ranger and slowly trying to get back up. It’s visor simply stares at my attempt to get up, watching my eyes all the while, even as I collapse back down into a coughing fit. Not content to have my try to recover, the Ranger picks me up from the ground with a single hoof, crushing my already broken ribs all the more.
From being it, Way finally gets up, yelling as she pounces on it’s back, flailing and punching at the cut parts of the armor’s neck. The Ranger ignores her pitiful attempts, looking to my right, at the new window made by Way’s breaking of a wall. I gasp, and crawl at it’s hoof in desperation to stop the inevitable.
The Ranger looks at me, it’s visor reflecting the dim sunlight back at me coldly.
I look back into the visor, gasping, “Please…”
The Ranger throws me out of the broken wall to the ground below.
———
Footnote: Level Up! (7)
New Perk: Them’s The Breaks: You’ve suffered many broken bones and blunt force injuries. The pain will never go away, but some of the damage will! All Blunt and Fall damage is reduced by 25%! If only you had this before today…