Chapter 1

The mission was simple: kill the target.

Gavra had done it dozens of times before. All you do is run in, do a bit of shooty-shooty, and collect the bounty. Simple, right?

No. Not that simple. Not according to Girder, who was once again lecturing her about the importance of tactics, picking your enemies off one-by-one without making your presence known, not shouting, “Eat lead bitches!” before running in guns blazing, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, can you please stop eating that…

Laying on her side with her head propped by a talon, she used the other to fiddle with the lapel of her brand new jacket that required total fixation. She’d looted it from the corpse of a New Canterlot Republic pony she killed, thinking it looked nice but was profoundly disappointed to discover the small tear from where one of her bullets grazed their chest.

Sigh.

And here she thought she’d look spiffy in the Wasteland.

Well, she kinda already did? It complimented her armor superbly, which she always thought was on the tacky side. It was a simple bullet-proof vest with “08” printed on the collar, indicating that it wasn’t new, but—sigh, again—looted from somewhere. Oh, why did she have to get stuck with the trashiest group of Talon mercs?

“Gavra!”

Hearing her name, she jolted, pretending as if she had been paying attention the entire time.

A middle-aged griffon, forehead creased into a frown, glared at her. Girder took the cigar he was puffing on out of his beak, tapped it once so that grey ash sprinkled to the dry earth, and replaced it. Puffing… puffing… “Care to repeat everything I just said?”

Gavra waved him off in a way one would ward off a pesky fly. “Yeah, yeah! You’ll take control of one of the towers, while Gel blows some shit up to put a dent in their reinforcements, then I go in shooty-shooty and maybe punch that shithead Kestral in the face, maybe some crying will be involved, maybe he begs me not to shoot him, maybe I shoot him anywa—actually, I will shoot him anyways cause caps, which who doesn’t like that? Aaaand we go home and crush a few apple whiskeys. Did I cross all my Is and dot all my Ts?”

He stared at her contemplatively. Gavra was young. Somewhere in her early twenties, if he remembered correctly. He had expected someone her age to be reckless, but cocky? It pained him to admit, but she earned the right to that cockiness. The two submachine guns dangling along either side of her hips bared the names “Spray & Glaze” for a reason. Once over with Spray, twice over with Glaze, and with cunning precision. Also, she was hot as fuck, and she knew she was hot as fuck, so she used that to get what she wanted. But said recklessness would eventually get them all killed, and he wouldn’t have that.

“You’ll follow the plan, or you’ll wait here,” Girder said. “Your call.”

She sat up, mocking a scoff. “Listen, has a plan of mine failed yet?”

“Yes.”

“Shush, hoe. Anyways, I’m just saying that you need to live a little.” She pranced up to Girder and plucked the cigar from his beak. He didn’t budge, but he did let out an annoyed groan. She bit down on its end and puffed… puffed… puffed…

She turned toward the hill and splayed out her right wing before doing anything else, swiping Girder’s bullet casing “model” of the prison off the cinderblock in the middle of the merc trio. Gelato, a chubby griffon at least a decade older than Gavra herself, also let out an annoyed groan. He was half-tempted to shove a grenade in her mouth and tie the pen to something mobile. Maybe his tail? Nah, she’d just make muffled comments about how fat his ass is getting. Even with volatile explosives in her mouth, she’d still be annoying.

She rocked her hips side-to-side, swinging her tail like a pendulum. Halting at the peak, she plopped her butt to the ground, took another puff from the cigar, and stared down at the prison.

Four guard towers.

She pointed a talon in the shape of a gun at each one and made explosion noises. “Bang, bang, boom! Blow up the towers. They can’t snipe us then. Better lend me some of your explosives, Gel!”

Gelato hugged the bag of explosives close to him. “As if! You’ll only get everyone’s damn attention if you’re lucky enough to not blow yourself sky-high!”

“Oh, you don’t trust me?” Gavra said, still looking down at the prison.

“I’d trust my worst enemy with my life more than you!”

Gavra turned her head back toward him slightly, the barest hint of seduction apparent on her face. She flicked her tail, showcasing her ass, and with rose petals in her voice said, “I’d appreciate it if you lend me a few C4s, Gel. It might be worth your while.”

Gelato inhaled air through his nostrils, stiffened, and adjusted the bag of explosives that he was hugging to hide something else close to bursting.

Girder sighed. “You can’t bribe us with sex every time you want something to go your way, Gav.”

“Why not?” Gavra came up to the older griffon, beak inches from smooching position. She puffed on the cigar one last time and pulled it away, butt soggy from leaving it in her mouth for too long. She placed it back into his mouth and pressed a talon against his armored chest, her breath hot against his face.

“I haven’t heard you complain before, so why now?” she whispered in his ear.

“Because you could get us killed this time…” he whispered back nonchalantly.

Her claws pranced up his vest, toward his neck, and ran her fingers through his feathers. “And why is that?”

He grabbed her talon and peeled it away, simultaneously placing his other talon against her own chest and pushing her back. “Cause this time we’re fixing to attack a fortress, complete with armed guards, weapons bigger than our own, and numbers beyond our counting. A tactic is the only way we can get to the target unscathed. Not by blowing shit up like it’s Tuesday.”

“Pffhahah! Are you saying that you don’t respect my abilities?” She wiggled her rump in front of him, intending to show off Spray & Glaze, who (yes they have pronouns) dangled along either side of her flanks, but she was mostly showing off her assets. Sometimes she found the humor in being a cocktease. “What I’m getting from you is that you’re too afraid of a challenge. How about I prove ya wrong?”

She bowed and lifted her tail, trying to look as if she was just stretching her body—and putting on a damn good performance into that yawn—but mostly showing off her pussy. She spun back around to him. “How about instead of whatever safe, boring bullshit of an idea you had, we go with my plan. I go down there by myself, blow some shit up, give the good ol’ Spray & Glaze treatment, and if I get into trouble you just snipe 'em down from here, and you can say I told ya so? Sound good, eh?”

She plucked the cigar out of his beak and put it back into her own. Puffing… puffing… puffing into his face.

“Come on,” Gelato said. “Let’s just tie her to a fence post or something and come back for her when we’ve taken care of business. She’s not worth arguing with.”

“Gelato, give her your bag,” Girder stated simply.

The chubby griffon blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, give her your bag. She wants to take care of this herself, we’ll let her. She dies, she dies, but at least she’ll put a hole in them.”

“You cannot be serious!”

Gelato stood up, threw the bag over his back, and marched up to the middle-aged griffon. “She’s going to wake up everyone with a gun in prison! How are we getting to the target then?”

Girder reached into his saddle bag, taking out another cigar. “Well, guess luck will decide for us,” he said, striking a matchstick and hovering the flame over the cigar’s tip.

Gelato scoffed. “I can’t believe you… fine!”

He tossed the bag at Gavra, who caught it with an enthusiastic, “Yipee!”

“You get swarmed,” Girder said, puffing… puffing… “And that’s where your fun ends. I start sniping.”

Gavra smirked, flinging the bag over her back and already flapping her wings to take off for the prison. “You’re on!”

The plan was simple: blow some shit up.

Gavra was prepared to follow that plan to every bullet point; because bullets were pointy.

The southeast tower only had one guard, who was more occupied with watching the prison yard than keeping a lookout for outsiders. It was a unicorn mare wearing the shittiest jacket Gavra had ever seen! Crap, was it provided by the prison itself—wait, ah, yes. Inmate numbers on the back. Go figure.

She landed on the roof, unholstering Spray and attaching a suppressor. Dipping her head below the edge, she scanned the nest for the back of the mare’s head… which happened to be the opposite way now. The guard had changed positions and was now staring directly into her eyes, muzzle to beak.

There was only one thing a quick-thinking Talon merc such as Gavra could do in a situation like this: she kissed the mare on the lips.

The unicorn yanked back, on the verge of yelling but sputtering instead.

“Oh come on!” Gavra shouted. “My breath doesn’t smell that bad!”

The mare’s horn ignited, a riot shotgun in the corner of the nest glowing a similar color of lime. Gavra wasted no time in whipping Spray out and popping two rounds into her forehead, a third grazing her cheek.

Stuck in a silent scream, the mare fell. Gavra dropped down, peeked toward the stairs to see if any guards would come running up, and turned her attention to the yard down below. She flipped her mane away from her right eye and took out a pair of binoculars.

Thank fucking gosh this place has lights, she thought. She wouldn’t have any idea what she was up against otherwise. Not that she couldn’t improvise something, but fun shooty-shooty was best played when all her targets’ locations were known.

Four watchtowers in total, three left, one sentinel each, and each sentinel not expecting a griffon—a cute one at that—of all things to sneak up on them. They were too occupied with making sure none of the slaves ran away. Trailing down, she saw at least a dozen convicts littering the ground below. Some of them, mostly the ones wearing the shitty jackets—gosh, hers was so much better—carried weapons while a few others wore detonation collars. The convicts were using the prison as a slave depot.

Smart fellas. Take over the prison, turn it into a settlement, and then turn that settlement into a prison. Such is the way of business.

Bomb collars… Gavra thought. What are the chances that one of these guards hold the detanator that blow all of their noggins skyhigh?

Just like that, Gavra’s own inkling of a plan began to incubate.

She took off, but not before wiring a C4 explosive to the tower. She didn’t want to risk someone climbing it during the fighting to get a height advantage.

The guard of the southwest tower didn’t notice her dangling off the side of the parapet. Gavra’s head peaked over, the first thing to grace her eyes being a stallion’s tail. She wasted no time.

With swift, cat-like reflexes, she skittered over the parapet, dashed toward the guard, and banged their head against the low protective wall to daze them. Grabbing a lock of mane, she pulled him by the scalp, his rump sliding along the floor as they made their way toward the center of the nest where someone down below was less likely to see them.

A combat knife pressed against his throat, although he was still recovering from the concussion she’d given him.

“Aight bitch, where’s Kestral holed up?” she whispered in that same threatening way that Girder whispered to let Gavra know when she’s stepped over the line. She was getting good at that whisper.

The stallion muttered something unintelligible.

Gavra put more pressure on the knife, slicing a narrow valley in his neck. “What was that?”

A hoof slapped her face. It didn’t hurt, but there was an audible clap. Before the stallion could do anything else, she forced the knife down hard so that the valley leaked streams of blood. The last thing to come out of his mouth was a gurgle.

She wasted no time in wiring an explosive to the tower and moving along. The next pony would try to kill her despite the fact that she was sitting on his chest with a gun to his temple; the one after that tried to scream for help but was shut up with a quick snap of the neck. Sheesh, some of these guys had trust issues.

Finished, she whipped out her binoculars again and scanned the yard for more ways to even the playing field. Her eyes landed on an area sectioned off next to the administration building by a fence. A group of slaves, perhaps six, were in there. All of them were wearing bomb collars.

An idea struck her. There was a very good chance that Kestral would be hiding somewhere in that building. The moment the shooting started, he’d send guards to watch the front door. They wouldn’t be expecting a hole to be blown in the side of the building. It was the perfect second entrance.

“Hey, do you any of you know where Kestral is?”

Gavra knew what to expect when landing in a slave pen. This wasn’t her first rodeo, after all. She had expected them to grovel at her feet, begging her to free them. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be any less annoyed about it.

“Oh please, please, you have to save us!” A scrawny mare with her ribs showing wrapped a hoof around Gavra’s ankle. The griffon gave a disgusted look and yanked it free, stepping out of reach. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Just tell me where Kestral is, or better yet, tell me who has the detonator for your collars.”

A foal at least half her age ran up to her, hugging her other leg. “You mean you’re going to get us out!?”

Gavra stuck her leg out, trying to shake him off. “Yeah, something like that.”

She grabbed him by the scruff and peeled him off, the foal looking like an oversized puppy when she held him up. She flung him aside as if tossing a morsel to a peasant.

“Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll get you out of those collars.” Adding quietly, “Or something, something, another…”

Someone cleared their throat, and Gavra turned her attention toward a stallion standing by the fence. He had no mane, his body spotted with rashes like a demented-looking dalmatian. Flimsy stick between teeth, he poked it through the holes of the wire mesh.

“A couple of guards roo-teen-lee circle the perimeter to make sure all of us are behavin’.” His voice was scratchy, sounding if he had gargled nothing but sand for nine consecutive years. “If a rev-oh-lution starts one radios his buddy and theys blows alls our noggins off. If we team up, ya can take one while I take on the other with muh lance.”

Gavra’s eyes homed in on the stick, which she immediately assumed to be his “lance.”

“Thanks, but I think I got it from here.”

Her wings lifted in preparation to take off, but a sudden realization hit her: she had no idea what the two guards looked like. This thought was immediately followed up with an idea.

She turned back to the rashy pony with a stick in his mouth. “Hey, I know what you can do!”

Less than ten minutes later, a stallion in full security armor walked by.

The rashy stallion slammed into the fence, rattling it. “Hey, hey, come over here!”

The guard sighed. He pretended to ignore him and kept walking.

“Hey, we’ve got sick in here!”

The guard halted, turned, and walked up to the fence, banality etched into his eyes. He looked at the group of prisoners pinned up. “Is this another one of your games, Slim Jim?”

He heard something drop behind him, and before he could see what it was, his head was smashed against the mesh.

“Motherfucker!” he shouted. His helmet protected his face in case Slim Jim felt partial to pony cheek that day—which he had been before—but the guard was still very dazed. He was about scream for help when a knife pressed against his throat.

“Do you have the detonator on you?”

“Fuck you!”

Gavra dug the blade into his nape, a rivulet trailing down to his chest and soaking his vest. “I’ll ask again, do you have the detonator?”

“Fuck no!”

“Does your buddy have the detonator?”

“P-probably!”

“Radio him.”

“How?”

With her tail, Gavra patted his body down, searching for a walkie-talkie. She found it dangling from his flank and held it up for him to speak into.

“Tell him to meet you here. If he says he’s busy, come up with an excuse why. Tell him your horny and like it beneath the tail for all I care, just do what you gotta do.”

She held the button down, and the guard spoke. “Hey, Red…”

A gravelly voice that sounded more gravelly through the static storm responded. “Yeah?”

“We’re having some issues with the pests. Think you can come over?”

“What issues are you having?”

“A fight. Big one.” He tried hard to look back at the griffon, but she kept him pinned against the wire mesh. “Looks like someone is about to die.”

“I’m heading over right now.”

Gavra planted the walkie-talkie back where she found it.

“So,” the guard said. “Now that that’s over with, are you going to—”

Thick, bubbly gurgles escaped his gullet. The rivulets became geysers that shot out in small spurts. The guard rustled beneath her as some of the prisoners screamed at the site, the mare with her ribs showing covering the foal’s eyes, who already had a traumatized look on his face. In less than a minute the pony beneath her went limp.

Gavra let go, the corpse slumping against the fence face-first, blood sprinkling out of its neck. She holstered her knife, and without looking back at the prisoners, took off toward her hiding spot on the ceiling of the administration building.

A couple of minutes later, the second guard came running in. “Hacksaw, what’s—”

He froze.

The realization of what he was looking at didn’t hit him right away, but when it did it was already too late. Gavra jumped down, onto the guard's back so that he took the full force of her weight. The two tumbled to the ground, and it was over just like that. One simple snap of the neck, and the second guard was dead.

“Alright…” Gavra said, getting up and patting down the corpse. “Let’s see if it’s… here!”

Gavra held the detonator up triumphantly.

Hope brimmed in the eyes of several slaves as they stared at their savior, the purple griffon, who looked spiffy in her new jacket. It really tied together with her vest!

“Now they can’t kill us the second we escape,” the mare with her ribcage showing said. “Just break the padlock on the gate and we’ll find a way out.”

Gavra allowed the slyest of smirks to become notable on her face. “Yeah, about that… I’ll need to cause a distraction, and I don’t want any of you to get caught in the crossfire. How about you lot hug the wall of the building there, and I’ll focus on clearing an escape route.”

For a moment, she thought they would see through her rouse, but the ponies happily obliged.

Stuffing the detonator in her jacket’s inside pocket, she took out Spray, removed the suppressor, and replaced the mag with one full of incendiary bullets.

It was time for fun.

The ground shook, the air roared, the towers crumbled, ponies everywhere scrambled to safety as they tried to figure out what was going on.

Spray in one clenched talon, Glaze in the other, Gavra opened fire.

Several of the convicts fell to the ground in a fiery blaze, the ones who weren’t lucky enough to die instantly rolling in agony. The slaves working out in the open weren’t spared either. They ran around the yard, flames trailing them like capes.

The popping of gunfire rang across the yard. Through the hailstorm of bullets and smoke, many didn’t know who to shoot at and blind-fired in any direction. Some hit their own crew in the process. Gavra thought this was hilarious, and it took lots of effort to not break down laughing in the center of all the chaos.

Eventually, someone realized that the cute purple-headed griffon with a nearly-pristine NCR field jacket didn’t particularly blend in all that well with a group of convicts in shitty prison jackets.

“Hey!”

Gavra whipped to her right in time to spot a green unicorn with a sawed-off floating beside him. She threw herself to the ground, dodging a wave of silver shrapnel, then rolled backyard to avoid another wave that exploded the earth, flinging dirt into her face.

She blinked, struggling to open her right eye, a beady tear already forming. Without thinking she brought up both Spray & Glaze and released a ruthless torrent. Bullets peppered the unicorn caught while trying to reload, rattling him. If Gavra wasn’t so desperate to not die on the spot, she would have ended it there, but she kept firing even as his body caught fire, and kept on shooting as he charred to a black husk.

The body only fell over when both guns clicked, and Gavra took that as an opportunity to rub one out, as they say. She blinked her eye open slowly. It burned a little, and it was probably red, but that was one less distraction out of the way.

Replacing the empty mags with some full of hollow point rounds, she scanned the area. Corpses surrounded her. Some of the charred had cracks running through them that glowed with smoldering ember. Gunshots still rang out across the yard, although Gavra knew that it was only a matter of time before someone got a head on their shoulders and noticed how out of place she was.

Better do something before somepony notices me… she thought.

Pulling out the detonator for the slave collars, she pressed the shiny red button. Several screams echoed around her, and several ponies in the crowd exploded, taking several more guards out with them. Within seconds, the yard was littered with the rubble of destroyed architecture, potholes, severed limbs, and corpses.

She walked past an earth pony with a stub of bone sticking out where his left foreleg should have been. He was crawling away from her, and when she cleared her throat he practically skittered across the ground like a flailing snake. She laughed.

The explosion from the collars had blown apart the fence that sectioned the slave pen off from the rest of the prison yard. Gavra stepped over dead bodies and loose appendages, one of them being the half-annihilated head of the starving mare that groveled at her feet. She’d have felt bad if—no… on second thought, she wouldn’t feel bad. Not at all.

She stepped into the freshly-crafted entrance and called, “Hey Kestral, you in here?”

A bang, and something whistled past her. She dived behind a desk, gunshots ringing across the room. Taking a grenade from Gel’s bag of explosives, she threw it backward. The shooting stopped.

“Grenade! Get the fuc—”

The floor vibrated, the desk rattled, and a violent explosion ravaged her ears. When the chaos died down, all she could hear was an ongoing ring.

Gavra got up and listened for the pop of a gun, a shout, an indication of any kind that there were more ponies she had to deal with. Only ringing.

The ponies that fired at her lay in a pool of blood and guts; one was knocked back by the explosion and hit his head hard against the concrete floor, his cranium surrounded by a red halo. The other pony… one-half of a body. She stepped over their mangled forms and pushed onward, her tail wrapped around Glaze’s hilt so that she didn’t have to use her talons and could freely roam.

The griffon came into a hallway and slowed her approach. The ringing insisted its stay. She tried fingering her ear to pop it but that didn’t do much good.

She walked up some stairs at a snail’s pace, hugging the wall. The rapid tapping of hoofsteps scrawled down the next flight up—the only giveaway to Gavra the vibration—and the moment a unicorn popped his head out Glaze let loose a brigade of bullets that shredded the stallion’s skull.

“Fuck!” she screamed after the muffled motor-like drumming of her gun stopped. She holstered him and whipped out Spray, continuing her trek upward.

She turned the corner, still hugging the wall, and continued up the next flight. The ringing—oh that irksome ringing—continued to blister her ears like an annoying friend that couldn’t be rid of.

Gavra halted in the middle of the stairs and yelled, “Hey Kestral you fuck, I’m down here! If you don’t pop your head out by the time I reach the top, then I have some bad news for ya, pal!”

If a response was given, she didn’t hear it. The mercenary waited a few seconds. She tried waiting a full minute, but a minute without shooty-shooty was far too boring, so she continued upward.

And in her rush, she failed to notice the trip wire at the top.

Gavra let out a grunt as her talon snagged on something, then she looked down. “Oh shit…” she muttered.

Two metal apples clanged to the floor in front of her. She lurched back, intending to backpedal down the steps but falling instead. The world became a blur of lights as her mind struggled to catch up to the chaos of the situation; meanwhile, she struggled to keep her tail wrapped around Spray. Then, came the explosion.

If she wasn’t already falling down the stairs fast enough, the force of two grenades was enough to throw her back completely. Blurring lights zoomed by, Spray clattered down the steps, and its wielder hit the wall hard; squawking hellaciously as she felt the humerus in her left wing snap.

Gavra slumped to her side, tasting copper. She spat red onto the shitty floor tiles, her eyes—filtered through a haze of dizzy—trailing back up the stairs.

A threstal wearing a sheriff’s hat and darker than the night itself stood at the top, his slitted eyes of crimson looking upon her. He traversed down the steps with an eerie calm and terrifyingly playful smile on his face. He stopped in front of her.

“So,” Kestrel said. “You’re the shitstork that blew up half my prison.”

Chapter 2

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The plan was simple: get the fuck out.

“Hey, fucking—ah! Stop it!” Gavra shouted all she could, but they kept dragging her across the yard. It was only dirt, but it still hurt like hell, especially since one of her wings were broken.

After Kestral had her pinned, two guards came in and bounded her talons with blue string, also latching a couple of chains onto her hind ankles. It was clear to her that they wanted to rough her up for what she did, although Gavra expected that there was more to it. Any creature in their right mind would be furious to find out a young griffon girl, who happened to be a cutie-patootie, had destroyed half their brigade. Instead, Kestrel carried an eerie calm. He clearly had questions for her.

They must have been dragging her around for half an hour before the thestral called them over. They pulled her toward the face of the administration building where a group of stallions stood, who were likely the remaining survivors. It was kinda funny how the spot they brought her to happened to be in perfect view of the hill where Girder was stationed at.

“So,” Kestrel said, bending down to look into Gavra’s eyes, who was too busy cringing in pain to look back. “What does the NCR want with my prison.”

Gavra sat up, leaning back against the wall of the building and ignoring the fact that the two ponies holding the chains had her legs peeled apart spread-eagle, revealing her clit for all to gawk at. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe they think Hoofington needs a strip club or some shit.”

Kestrel’s lips twitched, pulling back into a smile that revealed fangs. “A joke. Funny. I’m guessing by the play on ignorance that you’re not really an NCR soldier and just thought the jacket was cool.”

Gavra shrugged. “I’m a victim of both their taxes and fashion sense, what can I say?”

He chuckled. “Hehe, so are you a Talon merc then?”

“You bet your bippy.”

“So, who placed the bounty on my head?”

Oh, look at that! An invisible watch on her wrist. It was surprisingly difficult to fake-check the time with both talons bound together.

Come on Girder, you dickhead! Gavra thought. They’re in direct view; you have the perfect shot!

“I don’t know,” she said, now fake-checking her nails. “I have a poor memory. You could probably kickstart it if, say… you pay double the caps?”

Kestrel’s pupils narrowed as they bore down on her. “How many caps for my head?”

“Two thousand!” she chirped. Well, it was only a thousand, but Gavra thought she could swindle him in the right direction in case he wanted to reverse-hire the mercenary sent out to kill him.

“So, four thousand caps. I could use that money to repair the prison and buy new slaves, or I could give that money to you. I wonder…”

She eyed Spray, who dangled against the thestral’s flank by a blue string. Glaze was on the otherside, although he was still out of ammo, if she remembered correctly. If she could just keep them distracted long enough, then maybe Girder’s would finally get his shit together, and she’d know the first thing to run for. The second thing would be for the bag of explosives, which happened to be on the back of one of the stallions that were peeling her legs apart.

Take the fucking shot you dumbass!

She was so focused on Spray that it took her a few moments to notice something else dangling between Kestral’s legs and pointing straight at her.

She swallowed, feeling sweaty for the first time in her jacket. “I’ve killed before. I’ve killed dozens of times before, not including these amateurs scattered around this playground. You know how good I am at killing. I could make this bounty disappear lickety-split.”

“Is that so? I don’t know. If I hired you, that means I’d have to forgive you for killing most of the Jack Knife gang. And I’m not in a very forgiving mood.”

“Pfffhaha!” she laughed. “Is that what you call yourselves? The Jack Knives? I can come up with five names at the top of my head that are way better! Like, the uh, like uhh, the Batty Bunch!” She tapped her beak in thought. “Yeah, Batty Bunch rolls off the tongue. What do you think? Needs work?”

“You talk too much,” Kestrel said, his smile dropping into a frown.

Gavra reached both talons out, air booping his nose. “And you drive me batty!”

Kestrel chuckled again, but this time it was more abrupt. A snort-chuckle. “Thestral jokes now. Huh.” He turned to a red unicorn standing next to him. “Shut her up.”

“Oh come on!’ Gavra shouted. “I’m a great conversationalist. Why, if you give me time, I can tell you all about everything leading to Equestria’s economic downfall during the war. In fact—”

Then her words were cut short when a blue string similar to the one binding her talons together wrapped around her beak. “Mmmph umph mph…” she squeaked.

Fucking take the shot, you prick…

Glancing in the hill's direction, she immediately understood why he was taking so long. A thick pillar of black smoke ran up to the sky, blocking his view of the scene. A pillar of smoke that she created.

Oh, if she could go back in time and prevent all of this from happening, she would.

“So,” Kestral hissed, stroking his hoof against her cheek. Gavra cringed away, earning another chuckle from the thestral. “What to do with you? I can’t let you go, no… not like this. I need you alive to find out who put the bounty on me. But I also need to avenge everyone you killed tonight.”

His cock twitched in the corner of her eye. Glancing at it, Gavra saw a clear liquid coming from the tip. He didn’t mean to…

No… Gavra thought. Please no, fuck that. ANYTHING but that.

She shivered all over, her hindlegs buckling, a warm feeling spreading through her loins that betrayed everything she felt about the situation. Tears tried to push past her eyes, but she held back. Maybe it wasn’t what she thought.

Six shiny schlongs were suddenly staring back at her, threateningly bobbing at eye level. Gavra was grateful for how thick her violet feathers were, considering how fast her face paled.

All six cocks throbbed hard. Morbidly, Gavra noticed that Kestrel’s wasn’t the thickest, though his staggering shaft more than made up for it in length. In fact, she was certain at least two of his goons were as thick and round as the braces around her wrists. Her beak trembled at the thought of taking that shorty bastard’s dick; compensating didn’t even begin to describe the size of that charcoal-black pillar. It even seemed to beckon to her, the pre-cum at its tip welling with every inch its wielder’s smirk rose on his face.

Gavra turned back to Kestral, who was slowly making his way to her. Despite herself, despite knowing there would be no way she’d even get far if she had the chance, Gavra scooched back until she hit the wall. Her useless wing smashed against the granite, and maddening sparks of clarifying pain clapped behind the griffin’s eyes, releasing the waterworks.

“Not gonna lie…” Kestrel chuckled. “Lovingly silent as it is right now, that mouth of yours is fresh enough I might not want it spoiled too fast.”

Gavra’s lungs clenched at the implied threat behind Kestral's words, especially now that she was cheek-to-cumvein with his rock-hard member. Her beak ground underneath the bindings as she shot a withing look toward Girder’s direction. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

There was only one thing left to do; the one true ultimatum Gavra had for a scenario such as this: she flipped him off.

Kestrel laughed and slapped his cock against her eye. Gavra flinched, clenching it shut, the impact sending shivers down her spine that made the fire in her loins churn.

“Here’s the deal: you best damn give me the greatest blowjob of any whore’s, and I might let ya stay alive; albeit as my personal slave. Bite down, though…” He sliced his hoof across his neck.

Gavra gulped, suddenly feeling parched. “Yeah bitch!” She thought but wanted to say if she could, regardless if the tears on her face revealed otherwise. “I’ll be your fucking whore. Just wait until I get out of these bindings so that I can fuck you up!”

Kestral’s warm, veiny cock caressed the side of Gavra’s head. “We understand, sexy?”

Suddenly, that stabbing ache in Gavra’s twisted-up wing felt like a tickle. The rest of her, however, pulsed with fear. Oh, when she got out of these restraints, she was going to kill him. It didn’t matter if he called her sexy—no matter if it was true—the thestral clearly had something coming to him if he was willing to ravage this helpless young lady. There would indeed be a fucking—a fresh anal-entrance of Glaze; she’d even attach a suppressor so it’d hurt more.

Rage and fear combatted. She felt angry. She looked scared out of her mind. It didn’t help that she nodded in response to his question.

“Swell.” The threstal leaned down, his breath like a jet engine against her face, forked tongue running up her cheek and spreading the feathers. He bit off the bindings around her beak and spat them on the ground. “Let’s see how much you learned.”

Gavra was stubborn. The tears in her eyes told them everything they needed to know. That they had this griffon pinned and could do whatever they wanted to her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Gavra felt the exact opposite or was at least in denial about it. In her own ideal reality, she had the upper hand here, and she would pretend she did to the best of her ability.

“You know, I prefer uhhlck!—” She was going to say something witty like I prefer white meat over dark when Kestral rammed his cock into her mouth, sliding in past her uvula but pulling back to the entrance. He rocked his hips back and forth subtly, rubbing it against her tongue to enjoy the warm, moist feel.

Gavra pulled back, taking back sticky trails of saliva, but he shoved it back in. It crammed down her gullet, choking her, then receded back to the entrance like a snake leaving its home.

She had no choice but to give in. The griffon leaned forward, fulling embracing his cock with a sniff.

Gavra had fucked before. Yeah, she got around, but she didn’t parade her body like some sort of circus whore. She fucked those close to her to get pretty much anything she wanted and got pretty good at fucking from that. She knew a BJ well, but here… she forgot everything she ever learned.

Her tongue slid back and forth ungracefully, without coordination. This seemed to satisfy Kestral enough based on his pleasured breaths, but also not satisfy him enough. He wanted more. His cock ran down her throat once more and pulled back. Gavra snorted, nearly gagging.

Her tongue suddenly found coordination, her beak rhythm. The urge to just stay alive was enough to jog her memory. It was slippery and warm against his cock. A little rough, but not bothersome. It felt nice. He moaned in satisfaction, hips synchronizing with her sucking.

More, he thought and pumped in.

Gavra shuttered as she swallowed his cock up to the medial ring. It was surprisingly easy to take from there, but she had no time to gawk. She continued slowly, giving his dick the lollipop treatment.

Just… she thought, not even noticing her quiet sobs. Just… fucking stop… stop please, okay?

As if her tongue weren’t appeasing enough, Kestrel rocked his hips back and forth in wider strides, tucking in and out of her mouth. Gavra made thick slurping sounds, trying to keep up with his chaotic rhythm dance.

The tip of his head barely graced the back of her throat, still giving her space to breathe; however, the feeling was still uncomfortable. The griffon tried her damnest to not gag on his cock, and the thestral didn’t seem keen to provide her with that comfort. He seemed enthralled with it.

Kestrel brought his hips forward, slamming her head against the wall. It didn’t hurt, but now her throat had a ten-inch log stuck inside of it. He slid out slowly, really making her wait for that tasty aiir. When the tip made it to the entranced, he slid back in, ravaging her gullet all the more.

“I expect you to keep up still,” he muttered between grunts.

Gavra did as told without hesitation, lapping her tongue around his penis. If she didn’t have feathers she was sure her flushed face would be obvious. Her cheeks burned, the heat of cock acting as a furnace. She wanted this to stop.

This had to stop.

Right now.

She placed her talons against his right thigh and slid her head back against the walk, cock feeling as if it were being lured out of her mouth. She successfully pulled her head away with a spitty slurp and reached for Spray…

But that attempt was thwarted when Kestral shoved his shaft down her gullet in a single swift motion. It bobbed up and done, treating it not as an airway but as a glorified sex toy.

Glick, glick, glick, she went as he pulled in and out, in and out, his speed steadily increasing. Gavra dreaded that inevitable taste of jizz. If merely having him inside of her wasn’t already terrifying enough, she didn’t want to be forced to swallow his… gross.

The air mixed with satisfied grunts, loud slicking sounds, and Gavra’s sobs. She tried her hardest to push away, but every attempt was thwarted by the power of his hips. His pace quickened, quickened, quickened…

“Ah!” With a moan of satisfaction, Kestral let his semen run free inside of her. He pulled out as he did, forcing her to swallow some and spreading the rest on her face in two spurts.

The griffon hacked up a storm, coughing spittle and cum onto her chest. When she stopped, she looked up at the thestral with red eyes singed with hate. “There, you fucking prick,” she spat, quite literally. “I blew your fucking dick. Now let me go.”

Kestral laughed. Oh, how cute she was! “That’s the funniest thing you’ve said yet,” he said, wiping away a tear.

He got off of her and nodded to the red unicorn behind him, his cock twitching in anticipation. Gavra dug back further, ignoring the painful flares in her wing.

The stallion positioned himself over her, forehooves along either side of her waists. Her legs trembled, the warm feeling in her loins burning with desire, a desire she demanded to be extinguished immediately. She felt queasy, her pussy pulsating.

His tip prodded at her vulva, trying to find an entry point. It slid in with relative ease—she was already wet from the voracious deepthroating—and a shiver shot up Gavra’s spin as she let out a sobby gasp.

He slid in five inches and pulled back slowly. He slid in five inches again and pulled back slowly. It felt pleasing to have him inside of her, yet no-so-pleasing to have him inside of her. It was a weird contradiction. Her mind screamed No! but her body screamed Yes!

She really hated her body.

“Please… stop… ah!”

The stallion rammed in, the speed of his thrusts increasing. Gavra squirmed beneath him, trying to wiggle her way out but being blocked off by his sheer physique and the simple fact that her legs were being peeled apart by chains. She tried pushing him off by placing both talons against his chest, but his weight proved far too great for that to work.

Her body rocked with the motion of his hips, the griffon nothing but a useless fuckdoll. He enjoyed being inside of her, although felt as if he wasn’t doing his part in avenging the settlement by savoring every minute of her. There was only one thing to do about that.

Gavra screamed as his thrusts went from diplomatic to megalomanic. Every hump forced her back against the wall, shooting white-hot agony into her wing. Schlick, schlick, schlick, his cock went.

She reached her talons up to his face, placing her right over his cheek in a fetal attempt to grab something. When that didn’t work, she raked her claws down the side of his face, prompting him to thrust harder.

By now she had become a fuckdoll in the very literal sense. The two stallions holding the chains that peeled her legs apart struggled to keep their grip as her body shook so hard that they threatened to yank out of their mouths. It did for the stallion holding her left leg, but the stallion holding her right held his ground, making grooves in the dirt as he slid back.

Finally, the red unicorn fucking her pulled his rod out and shot out a long white rope, that extended all that way from her belly to her beak, some of it landing onto her tongue.

Gavra didn’t even have time to catch her breath as the next stallion eagerly plopped on top of her and shoved his dick into her anus. She screamed in pain as her asshole expanded.

He brought her hips up to meet his, lifting her hindquarters off the ground. Another stallion prodded his dick at her cheek, trailing back a sticky thin line of pre-cum from his shiny red member and stroking it over her head. Gavra clenched her eyes shut so she didn’t have to look, but the scene was embedded into her mind. She could even feel a second penis prodding through her mane.

Gavra carried a knife with her at all times. Not just the combat knife, but she usually had a few small ones strapped to her body in case she ever got into a sticky situation. Now, being repeatedly raped by this group of stallions, she considered it deeply. Her instincts told her to let it happen; that it would all be over soon and, if she was lucky, Kestrel would decide to make her the latest addition to his slave collection. Another part of her, however, said, “To balefire with instinct!” and demanded she take the knife hiding inside of her left bracer and stab it into the ballsack of one of the stallions jerking it above her.

She didn’t do this, as badly as she wished. Because not only did it mean she’d live longer, but in general… she didn’t have the power to do so. She was completely powerless. Her body went limp, although her body still shook.

“The bitch finally stopped struggling,” the stallion fucking her asshole said. He slapped her ass, earning a whimper from her.

Pulling out, out the stallion raised his cock so that it was eye-level and shot veins of cum onto her pretty face, the stallions around her doing the same. Some of it got into her mane, some of it dribbling down her left eyebrow and covering her eye. Part of her was really glad that her right eye was protected by her hair, although she didn’t have much to be glad about this instant.

As soon as the stallion got off of her, she didn’t give time for the next one to proceed. She yanked her right leg, pulling the chain out of her captor’s mouth, and fell to the ground. She wriggled against the wall, worming her way through the dirt as used her hind legs to propel herself.

“She’s already had enough!” Kestrel laughed. “Oh, she isn’t going to survive the next half hour!”

“Stop it!” Gavra screamed as Kestral picked up one of the chains binding her ankles and dragged her across the ground on her side. “Just fucking stop it, okay! I’ll tell you everything you need to know! I know where there’s—”

She was going to say I know where there’s more Talon mercs, but another stallion was already clambering over her. She placed her paw against his chest and pushed him off, rolling to her chest and propping herself up with her bound talons.

Just like that, invisible restraints she could only interpret as magic bound her to the ground. Her hindquarter forcefully raised, legs spreading apart. From Kestral’s perspective, the griffon looked sexy as fuck with her butt in the air and head to the ground

He walked behind her and slapped her ass as hard as he could, appreciating the firmness of it, prompting a scream from Gavra. He was sure that her legs would be powerful. Powerful enough to support all of his weight.

“I know…” she muttered as the thestral mounted her. “I know where there’s—”

“Shut up,” he said, flopping her tail over her flank and shoving his dick inside of her pussy.

“But I—” She didn’t have time to say much else as a second cock entered her mouth. “Mmmmmph!”

The two stallions acted with perpetual motion and impressive choreography. As soon, as Kestral forced her forward, the stallion deepthroating her pushed her back. The griffon screamed around his cock, although the vibration only made it feel better.

Gavra didn’t know which to hate more: the one choking her, or the one making her stomach ache. The cock in her mouth tasted gross, like it had been serenading in garbage for one hundred years. She hated how every time he rammed in, his pelvis would bump against her beak. It was bad enough that she couldn’t breathe, but now she had to deal with sensory overload.

Kestrel hugged her mid-riff, moaning in satisfaction as he enjoyed the warmth of her body both internally and externally. The griffon was hot. Not in an attractive sense—she was—but in the sense that it felt boiling. He wanted to feel more of her.

He pulled out, dick covered in vagina juice, “Take off her clothes!”

The stallion fucking her mouth grunted in disappointment at not getting to finished, but he pulled out nonetheless. Gavra screamed as someone grabbed her jacket’s lapel and peeled it away, ripping it as they dragged her across the ground. If she could see, she’d be staring at the tattered remains of her field jacket lying on the ground in front of her.

They left her vest—that wasn’t so easy to tear off, and they couldn’t remove it without undoing her bindings, but they continued where they left off.

Caught on her back and caught between breaths, Kestrel lay down on top of Gavra, slamming his fork-tongue into her mouth.

“Mmmmmm!” she muffled-screamed, which translated to Eww, get out!

He kissed her as passionately as he could, lapping his tongue around, wrestling with her own. He pulled back subtly and pressed his lips back against her beak. Their mouths made a loud puckering sound as he repeatedly had to suck his saliva, along with her own, back in.

His breath tasted like mint. Mint that’d been shat on and left out in the sun. Sunbaked shitmint.

He pulled his head back up with a slurp and, wiping his mouth, swiped her hair out of the way.

“Open your eye!” he demanded.

Gavra blinked her free eye open slowly to stare up at a blurry Kestral.

“I want you to look me in the eyes while I fuck you,” he said. “I want you to remember this for a long time.”

Gavra whimpered but continued to sob silently.

His penis slid back into her vagina with ease, her tunnel tight yet well-lubricated with her natural wetness. Schlick, Schlick, schlick…

Gavra had stopped crying. Her eyes felt itchy, and her throat was in dire need of water.

His cock felt warm inside of her. He didn’t hold back any length, allowing all ten inches to slither in.

Pulling out was almost as satisfying as shoving in, but not as nice as the slippery feel. If he could be inside of her forever, he would.

Schlick, schlick, schlick

The urge to cum was rapidly approaching. It was already there, but Kestral staved off to enjoy every moment. This pussy was so fine that it was willing to hold back as long as he could. Better than any slave he ever had.

Gavra also felt herself approaching, and if she didn’t do something soon, she could see herself approaching that point far too many times to count. This would be going on when they got bored of her, and she’d hate to see what they plan to do with her after.

Schlick, schlick, schlick

He had gotten so into the rhythm that he’d forgotten all about the demand he’d given and clenched his eyes shut, fully embracing her. The entire world around him was gone, and there was just him and this sexy cat-bird thing.

Gavra’s eyes trailed down his body, toward Spray slapping against his flank by a blue string. Her talons were bounded together, but it wouldn’t take a lot of effort to reach down from under him and grab him… the gun, not Kestral. Again, pronouns…

Schlick, schlick, schlick

“Aaah!” he moaned. He dug a hoof beneath her ass and lifted her hindquarters off the ground. Resting her legs against his shoulders, he pressed his weight down on her, continuing to fuck.

The position was even more uncomfortable, but conveniently it gave her more of an opening.

Schlick, schlick, schlick

There was only one option left, as much as Gavra hated it. She wriggled her rump against his hips.

Kestral grunted but didn’t give any other response to signify that he was catching onto her bullshit, thinking that she’d just given in and would allow herself to become his personal fuck servant from this point forward.

Schlick, schlick, schlick

It would have to be fast. Others were watching. She slowly began reaching for the gun.

Schlick, schlick, schlick

She pulled back once he immediately bent further down, bringing her paws down to her head—gosh she both hated and loved how flexible she could be. He lapped furiously at the inside of her mouth, acting not as a sentient being but as an animal. She didn’t have long. There was no telling if she’d get another opportunity.

Schlick, schlick, schlick, schlick, schlick, schlick, schlick

JUST FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!

Clenching her eye shut, Gavra leaned forward, smashing her beak against his lips and slamming her tongue inside to sell the performance. Reaching her talons beneath the thestral, she yanked the gun away from his flank and pulled her head back with a slurp.

“Die you motherfucker!”

Kestral, distracted by pleasure, barely had time to register what just happened before the griffon mercenary let loose a spray of bullets that turned his head into swiss cheese. Placing a paw against his chest, she kicked him off, feeling gross with the way his corpse pulled out of her, ejaculating both into her vagina and onto her pelvis.

Refraining from the urge to gag in disgust, Gavra fired at something she heard approaching from her blindside and let loose another spray into his chest, the convict and rapist plopping to the ground silently.

Spray arched through the air, a couple of rounds entering through the head of someone, another entering a shoulder. It clicked, and almost instinctually she threw the gun into the muzzle of the stallion closest to her, knocking out a few teeth.

Swiftly, she reached for the razer hidden inside of her brace, drew it out, and flicked it open. She sliced off the bindings enough to wear she could break the rest off using pure muscle, but then something hard struck her head. Gavra nearly fell to the ground, but instead, she staggered to her feet in a daze with her head feeling like a ten-ton weight, bull charging towards… something.

She collided with someone and brought the razor up, slashing at their face. The stallion pushed her back, slapped the razor at her Tallon, and dove for her mid-riff in an attempt to tackle her to the ground. Gavra sprawled her hindlegs out and bore all of her weight down on top of him.

Fine, she thought. I don’t need a weapon to kill you perverts.

She raked her claws across the stallion’s throat. He gurgled violently and fell to the ground, throwing both forehooves to her neck. Whipping around, she—

The entire world shook as the stallion that was holding the bag of explosives spontaneously became enveloped by a bright, fiery blaze. The face of the administration building caved in, granite coming down like rain.

The explosion flung Gavra across the dry earth, skidding on her bad wing and making the griffon screech in pain.

When she sat back up, the scene was difficult to register. A stallion with half of his face missing hobbled out of the black smoke. He must have gotten five feet before falling over.

Gavra searched the ground for Spray, saw that he had landed relatively close to her, and picked him up. Her eyes had barely graced the ground in search of Kestral’s body for Glaze when another convict with a baseball bat clenched between his teeth—the one who must have struck her on the head— stepped out of the smoke.

He searched the scene, then saw the griffon lying on the ground, still very much alive. He charged toward her.

Gavra lifted Spray into the air, prepared to make another dentist’s day when a gunshot rang out across the yard. A bullet sliced through the convict’s leg, taking it off just below the knee.

He screamed like a filly, falling to the ground with blood squirting from his stub. Another ring and a fine red mist exploded from his head, onto the ground. Out of habit, Gavra aimed the gun in the direction the bullet came from.

Her breath caught in her throat, noticing for the first time how her chest heaved. Girder landed a few feet ahead of her. Girder, who saved her. Girder, who also took too long to get to her. Girder, who could have stopped her rapists any time he wanted. Girder, who didn’t stop it until she was about to die.

That piece of shit! She thought.

Almost immediately upon landing, she punched him in the face. “You son of a bitch!” she shouted. “You were jerking off, weren’t you?”

She brought her other talon up to hit him again, but Girder blocked it with his own. “No, I wasn't! I was just—”

She headbutted him, forcing him to backpedal a foot. “No, no, it’s not enough that you get to fuck me on occasion. That’s not your thing, apparently. You like to watch, especially when I’m being raped by a group of degenerates. You sick, sick, bastard!”

She brought Spray up and pointed at his head. “I’d shoot you right fucking now if I had the bullets. You are sooo fucking lucky. So, so fucking lucky.”

Her arm still shook. Her whole body still shook. The cold feeling of cum still dripped from her pussy. The warm feeling in her loins hadn’t receded, and she hated herself for it. She hated him for it.

Girder didn’t say anything at first. He placed his talon over the gun’s muzzle and lowered it to the ground slowly, staring into Gavra’s tear-soaked eyes.

“Gav,” he said. “I had no way of seeing what they did to you. If I knew what was going on I would have put a stop to it, but the smoke was too thick to fly through, and I had to make sure one of those convicts running from the prison wasn't Kestral."

She punched him in the face once more, putting all of her body weight into it. There was no reason why other than she didn't know what else to do.

Girder acted unphased by the punch, even if he could taste copper. “Gav, Gav listen to me,” he said, placing a talon on her shoulder.

She slapped it away and stepped back. “Don’t touch me!”

“It’s okay, I won’t. Listen, let's get out of here. We don't want more of 'em showing up.”

Tears streamed down Gavra’s face in harsh rivers, soaking the feathers around her eyes and cheeks. She held her place.

He reached a talon out. “Gav, I—”

Gavra brought Spray back up. “I said don’t fucking touch me.”

Girder respected her command and added to it by taking a step back, staying silent.

She cried for minutes. To Girder, it felt like an hour. Gavra? She lost all sense of time. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, or it could have been seconds. None of that mattered.

Finally, after an uncomfortable amount of time, Girder said, “After we collect the bounty off Kestral, we’re heading directly to our next job. Some head of a raider gang that’s been terrorizing a few settlements. I don’t blame you if you won’t want to come.”

Gavra sniffed, staring down at his talons. She hated Girder. He acted as a weird dad figure that she fucked on occasion, then had the audacity to take forever when a hellfire of cum was reigning down upon her. She wasn’t a super smart girl—her intelligence was moderate. But some part of her mind entwined with the last synapsis of rationality saw reason.

Inhaling air through her nostrils, she breathed.

“So…” she mumbled. “What’s the plan?”

Always Plan Ahead

by Breathtaking Carnality

Chapter 1

Chapter 2