Mad Max

The warm rays of Celestia's rising sun awoke the stallion from his slumber. His vision, though blurry, soon allowed the stallion to begin his daily routine as he straightened in his seat. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he fought hard to suppress the long yawn threatening to emerge from his wide open mouth. Waving his right hoof over his still gaping mouth, he was able to stave it. Blinking, he turned his head to look at his canine companion, who he assumed was still dozing off underneath his sheets. He was wrong.

The Blue Hoofer was nowhere to be seen. Brow knitting in irritation, the stallion's eyes wandered around the rest of the car's interior. The jars of dog food still lay devoid of its contents, the discarded spoon still carelessly dumped inside the empty can. Grumbling, the stallion leaned forward in his seat, retrieving his shotgun from the floor. Grabbing it's right side, he inserted his hoof within the worn-leather cuff he had crafted into the handle, choosing not to tighten it for the time being.

Turning to his left, he grasped his empty gas can, knowing full well that he could find anything in the Outback, possibly including a scavenge-able car, maybe even with some spare food and ammo.... the stallion mentally bucked himself for over-indulging on his thoughts. He had to focus on the matter at hoof; his canine companion was missing, and as far as he knew, was miles away by now. Looking back at his Pursuit Special, he was presented with two options: to continue on hoof, or to drive onward. While driving would be a lot safer, the car was low on fuel as it was, and going on a wild goose chase for the Blue Hoofer could prove deadly later on. On the other hoof, if he continued onward, he could become fatigued fairly quickly due to his recently blown-out ankle, and he would have to hide the Pursuit Special very carefully, so as to not return to a band of thieves trying to take his fuel. That would only end up....messy..for them.

The stallion adjusted his hoofball shoulder-pad and decided to travel on hoof. Turning fully around to his Pursuit, he trotted toward the driver's side, opening the door and grabbing the camouflage covering from the back seat. Hoisting it around the car, he made sure it was hard to see, nestled behind the overhang of a large rock. Though it was a little easy to notice, possibly due to the fact that he alone already knew of its existence, he finally picked up his previously discarded gas can and headed off toward a clearing.

It was simple enough to track down where the canine might have went; as it ran across the field, it formed a pathway through the dry grass, allowing the stallion to pinpoint his destination rather easily. What the stallion didn't realize was how long it would take, Celestia's sun beating down upon his dark leather clothing, causing his brow to involuntarily sweat. He wiped it off subconsciously, a practiced movement of his since day one out in the Faustralian Outback.

As the stallion slowly reached the bottom of a large hill, he silently cursed his lack of wings or magic; being an Earth pony in a world full of high speed chases and deadly marauders, no way to really grasp things proved difficult. Luckily, the stallion had a collection of belts from his time in the Faustralian Highway Patrol. With a couple of spare parts from wrecked vehicles, the stallion learned to craft anything useful, such as the makeshift funnel that assisted his driving, and the cuff necessary for wielding his firearm. Along with his plethora of items was his homemade ankle brace, made out of a wrecked car's tailgate hinges, needed for walking since his cannon had been blown out by a gang member five years before, along with a slight shakiness in his shooting foreleg from a motorcycle running over it the same day, fixed by the now absent sleeve that covered his right foreleg.

Walking up the hill after his rather lengthy reminiscence, the stallion was greeted with a dirt road that stretched for miles to his right side. Along the main road stood a secondary road, one that went around a large, barren tree and curved back toward its larger cousin. But it wasn't the road that interested the Earth pony, no, it was the dusty object that stood on the outcrop road, and the curious animal that was walking around it.

The stallion suddenly noticed he had un-holstered his shotgun and was aiming it at the machine before him, and with a raised brow, he replaced it within its holster, trotting over to the Blue Hoofer as it stopped and looked at him. It walked over to the Earth pony, who reached with his right foreleg and patted the dog's head, words of a job well done exchanged as he mussed up his companions fur.

Whistling for the canine to follow him, he trotted toward the machine, which he now noticed had a large three-bladed propeller atop it. It looked to be a gyrocopter, something not unheard of in the vast Faustralian Wasteland, a favorite of many survivors who could get their hooves on one, as being in the air meant no danger unless spotted from below, a easily avoided feat as the prop could usefully be quieted down with a smaller engine. This gyrocopter, however, lacked a smaller engine. The stallion contemplated whether or not the owner had a death-wish, but soon stopped himself as he noticed the small tanker of gas right behind the engine compartment.

He had a feeling it was a trap, and he quickly reached for his shotgun again as he scoured around the area suspiciously, inching closer toward the awaiting tanker as he searched his surroundings. As he neared the gyrocopter, he slowly grabbed his gas can from his belt, and was about to begin his usual routine until he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Drawing his head back toward his chest, he successfully evaded the snake that had almost claimed his life, and with a grunt of aggravation, he stamped on its body, holstered his firearm, and grabbed it by the neck, bringing it up to eye level with him.

As it hissed and squirmed, the stallion withdrew his knife, and with a quick motion, began to cut its throat from its body.

"Don't hurt it!"

The stallion, still grasping the snake, turned his head toward his right side, and found a yellow pegasus staring him in the face, a crossbow gripped in both front hooves. His fur was of a tannish-yellow, his brown mane covered by some form of vintage cap, complete with a dusty set of goggles atop his forehead. His tail flicked back and forth in obvious panic, and the Earth pony wondered if he had ever done this before. Licking his lips, the Pegasus yelled, "I said, let it go!"

Brow furrowing, the Earth pony complied, placing the bastard snake on the ground, where it slithered back toward the copter and into waiting once more, "Now, drop the knife," the Pegasus demanded, stepping closer toward his adversary in question. He did as he was told, and slid it toward him when he asked, "Now, the gun," he said, watching intently as the stallion brought the firearm out and placed it on the ground.

Still taking aim at him, the Pegasus bent over and grabbed the shotgun, placing it underneath his right wing. Looking back at the Earth pony, he began to speak, "I saw you drivin' past me yesterday in that car. What was that, a V8 Interceptor?"

The brown stallion hesitated, then nodded as he glanced back at the Pegasus, "Ah, the Last of The V8 Interceptors, now where the hell didjou find one of those, huh?"

The stallion kept his mouth shut, knowing full well that if he told where he'd got it, this bandit would get him in deep, deep shit with his friends. The Pegasus noticed his silence, and proceeded, "Oh, don't wanna tell me? Fine by me, I'll just go ahead and place one o' these bolts right between your eyes, how about tha-"

The Pegasus yelped as a large weight slammed into him, causing him to fall face-first into the sand as he dropped his crossbow. Swiftly grabbing his shotgun, he exclaimed, "Good boy," to his canine companion, who had hidden when he had noticed the opposing Pegasus in waiting.

The pony in question looked up from the dog on top of him and found the business end of a sawn-off double-barrel shotgun staring him down. Gulping audibly, he stumbled on his words, and finally spouted, "You wanna know about the oil refinery, don't'cha?"