Fallout Equestria: Las Pegasus

“Steele! Steele! Steele are you in there?” asked a whiny child's voice; the sound of little hooves striking thick steel followed shortly. “Steele!” It squeaked again.

Thump after thump found its way into Steele's head and finally revived him with a deep intake of air through collapsed lungs. Pain greeted him with its foreboding presence and hindered his attempts at lifting his heavy eyelids. It stung him once more, but to its dismay that only persuaded him to find the strength to finally get his eyes open. Fuck. Where am I? He wondered. His mind raced and struggled to place him in a reality where he lay in a pool of blood, in a sideways room. Hell, if it wasn’t for the ringing in his ears he’d be certain there was a ominous buzz lingering ever so closely to his left.

“Shit!” Steele cursed as reality hit him hard.

His adrenaline and fear gave him the strength to ignore his body's cries of pain and use his magic to throw himself away from the sentinel’s plasma shot; his body hit the door behind him, replying to the earlier knocks with a solid thump, and his vision shrouded in darkness for a brief moment.

“Steele!?” Questioned the familiar voice; a voice that gave Steele too many emotions to focus on right now.

Consciousness quickly losing its weak grip over his mind, Steele grit his teeth to a point where they threatened to crack, but mustered enough strength to pull out his revolvers and pelt the sentinel with all the hatred, anger, confusion, and fear he felt. The sentinel was long disabled before Steele stopped firing blanks, his adrenaline taking over his reflexes; once it wore off, his guns clinked uselessly to the side. He took a moment to breath and pick up whatever pieces of his psyche he could find. The fuck is going on here? He asked himself, breathing heavily as he looked around his room, his meant-to-be steel coffin. He brought his hooves to his face and looked them over with utmost disbelief; he clinked them together a few times simply to assure himself of their existence. Is this a dream? Was I out cold? He wondered.

“Steele answer me.” A voice sobbed. “Please.” it added.

The request wrecked Steele's train of thought and quickened the pace of his heartbeat. Behind his dying body was a ghost filly that supposedly not only saved him, but provided him comfort when he needed it most; and it asked nothing more than love and loyalty in return. Or was that a dream too? He asked himself; after all, a place with a history as vile as stable eleven's could do much more that make a fear stricken mind believe its own wicked imagination.

“I’m all alone again aren’t I?” Questioned a grief stricken filly, filling Steele with another wave of emotions he didn’t want.

Clinging on to the last threads of life and awareness he had left, Steele leaned against the stable door, a trail of his own blood leading to his body like paint from a brush, bleeding to death; he listened to the sobs, but he didn’t know how to feel. He was tired, angry, sad, and above all, frustrated. He had had-enough; he didn’t want to deal with this, he didn’t want to die, didn’t want to bear the pain of losing his chance to help Rose another time. He considered getting up, but the pain kept him firmly planted. Maybe he did want to give up, to lose. He tossed the idea around a bit, savoring its taste and considering all it entailed. Lose; that’s all he had to do. Give up, call it quits, let… go, and all his troubles would be gone. With all the shit he’d gone through he had never really lost. He never died, never suffered physically irreparable damage. He always came up on top, always survived despite the Mojave’s wishes to see him dead; he’d won every round, survived every blow, and clawed his way to survival up until now. He had won when his prize was life, but what point was there in winning when the prize was no longer attractive? Why win when you lose just by playing the game? Maybe it was time to give up; to lose a round so that he may end the game in his favor.

Steele closed his eyes, relaxed, and let the cool hand of death slowly embrace him; he was going to let the Mojave win this time. Another sob woke Steele up for good, and he jolted back into awareness. Who am I kidding? He told himself. He wasn’t going to die, not because he wanted to live, but because he had to. He had friends. Dream or not he had made his choice; to survive for the small group he now lead into either riches and comfort, or death. Regrettably, he had placed a responsibility that he could not run away from.They needed him, and despite what he forced himself to think, he knew he wasn’t selfish enough to cheat them by giving up.

“I’m coming, Rose.” He mumbled, momentarily breaking the sobbing as he struggled to levitate the hydra potion. He gave it one last push, and rolled the bottle close enough to take it and gulp down its precious contents with an almost angry enthusiasm. How the hell did The Steele almost decide on giving up? He mentally barked at himself, letting the potion wash over his insides and set his bones in place.

Steele got up on shaky legs, careful to not slip on his own mess. As his dream had predicted, the sentinel stood slouched and deactivated where it had almost killed him, his clothing was torn and caked in blood, and his head spun from having most of it on his clothes and coat. Steele reloaded his weapons and repacked his gear, trying to not linger on the dé jà vu. He found the stable’s mainframe and water crystal where he imagined they would be; he hesitated before unlocking the door, but quickly forced himself to. Finally, he stood before the very door that had lead him into two separate lives that he could not distinguish from real or imagined. Behind it lied an answer to a question he did not want answered. He wasn’t sure if he could bear to face Rose again, face a spirit that he had cruelly betrayed; he sighed and took a deep breath before giving the door his best glare. He wasn’t sure he could live through another abandonment, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t live through leaving a crying and dependent filly in a hell hole like this. He opened the door.

“Steele!” Rose gasped. The filly had been crying and her face and coat were soaked with tears; beside her rested an old bag filled with explosives. A pen and paper stuck out of the small outer pocket. To Steele's relief he felt Rose as she gripped his foreleg and sobbed quietly into it.

Steele pondered as to what to say, taken both by the awkwardness of the gesture and his experience. On one hoof he knew that touch had deceived him, but on the other he could not fathom a way for tears that weren’t his to feel this genuine. Overcome with emotion, he could do nothing more but hug the cute little filly; she squirmed a bit, surprised by the sudden action, but soon melted into his tight grasp. Steele hugged her for all he was worth. He hugged her for forgiveness, for affection, and to hope that he never has to leave her behind like he supposedly already has. After Rose’s external, and Steele’s internal sobbing had ceased, Steele cursed himself for being a pussy and straightened himself.

“I thought you were-”

“I'm not, and I won’t leave you behind.” Steele interrupted. He just wanted to leave, to find his friends and save Rose from this shit-hole. “Come on, follow me.” He said, straining to put the saddlebag on his aching body.

“Where to?” Rose questioned him with a familiar caution.

“I’m taking you with me.” Steele answered assertively, more as a command to himself than to answer Rose. He was too scared of reliving his dream to bother adding anything else.

Steele marched through the stable, ignoring the familiar dread, and taking caution as to not look back at Rose for fear of seeing her displeased. He lead her back to the stable door and paused, praying that he would not hear that damned question.

“You’re leaving Steele?” Rose asked, concern and tension in her voice.

Celestia dammit. “We’re leaving.” Steele answered sternly.

“But-”

“We are getting out of here.” Steele growled again, fighting the pain in his head; pain that he hoped was coming from the lack of blood rather than Rose.

Steele quickly maneuvered to open the stable door before Rose could protest, and the squeal of the rusty stable door droned out any other noises. Through the pain, Steele maneuvered to stand in front of the door, ready to see his friends and be done with this ordeal. Once the door opened however, the color drained from his face. It was night time, and nothing but a used, days old campfire stood where his friends were supposed to be.

“Wha- What?” Steele thought aloud, his world torn right from under him.

A soft, yet almost cold presence pressed itself against his rear leg.

“Steele? You aren’t going out there, right?” Rose asked, hugging his leg tightly.

Steele failed to come up with an answer. Everything was wrong! His friends were supposed to be there, it would be day, and they would all leave! This couldn’t possibly be right, could it? Steele wondered. Ok. Okay, take it easy, Steele. You have no idea how long you’ve been in there. Maybe it has been days and they’ve left. You’ll catch them in the morning. He reasoned. He took a few deep breaths and cleared his head; right now he had Rose to worry about, and she seemed alive, so he just had to calm down. Besides, he didn’t really want to leave the safety of a haunted stable anyway. Outside was dangerous. He could lose Rose, or get hurt; it was safe here, in the stable. Wait, what? he asked himself, surprised by the unusual thought.

“Steele it’s scary out there, can you stay with me?” Rose asked, tugging at his leg and heart strings.

“But we can camp out there, in fresh air, without bodies.” Steele reasoned, glad that there was enough ventilation to rid the air of the foul stench.

“But it’s scary and dark out there. I’m staying here, and you said that you won’t leave me, so come on let’s go.” Rose protested, letting go of his leg and motioning him to follower her into the stable.

“No! Rose I wanna get out of here, please let’s leave-”

“Steele, you said you were not going to leave me!” Rose shouted, taking a more intimidating stance, which despite the fear in Steele’s conscience, was cute for her small size.

“I’m not, Rose, please-”

“You said you weren’t leaving me!” Rose screeched, her yell echoing through the stable and Steele’s head; he shut his eyes and covered his ears in an attempt to drone her out.

“Rose.” Steele pleaded through the ringing; his heart was racing and his mind tried to reject the unpleasant dé jà vu.

“Why would you want to leave me, Steele!? I helped you, I cared about you, I needed you! Why would you hurt me like that? Abandon me!? Steele!”

“Steele! Steele are you alright?” Scratch shouted, rocking him in an attempt to wake her distressed friend.

Steele recoiled out of bed, nearly crashing into Scratch.

“Luna save me.” Steele muttered, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He felt sick again, but was thankful there was nothing left in his stomach for him to puke.

“You alright?” Scratch asked again. She was visibly shaken and she eyed Steele with concern.

Steele struggled to comprehend his situation. What was real and what was a dream? He wasn’t sure anymore, but at least now he had someone he trusted beside him.

“What happened?” He asked gruffly, looking at Scratch with tired, blue eyes; she was fully dressed and the morning sun shone through the window.

“You were screaming your name in your sleep so I woke you up.” Scratch answered; to Steele's dismay she eyed him like he was mad.

“Goddesses.” Steele sighed, pushing his muzzle into his hooves.

“Hey, you alright? What happened?” Scratch consoled, placing her talons on his shoulder.

Steele looked up and was met with genuine concern on Scratch’s face; dream or not that was a welcome new addition to his life.

“Rose.” He finally whispered, looking back down toward the foot of his bed.

Scratch thought of what to say without hurting Steele further, but was interrupted by him once more.

“Nevermind me, Scratch. Thanks for waking me up, appreciate it, but we have things to do.” He said, getting out the opposite side of the bed. “I see you're ready, but where’s Hermes?” He added, making his way toward the bathroom.

“Hermes couldn’t find the trader yesterday, so he left to repair your armor and gear today. I, uh. I didn’t want to leave you unattended, not in your current state that is, so I stayed behind to watch you… sleep.” Scratch finished, scratching the back of her head and looking away to try and make the situation less awkward.

Steele craned his head past the bathroom’s doorway to give Scratch a raised eyebrow, questioning look. “Smooth.” He said, chuckling as he closed the door behind him.

Scratch face-clawed as the door closed. “That came out weird.” Steele heard through the door.

Steele spent an unusually long time looking at himself in the mirror. What would normally be a scruffy-haired, lively, deadpan face, was now tired, sick, and weak; only his toned muscles tied together at his chin scar kept his face from drooping, and even they looked energy deprived. What’s wrong with me? Steele wondered, hating himself for looking as bad as he felt. Probably just hungry. Yea, that’s it. Some food will do me good. He decided, a bit more enthusiastic now that he had a goal in mind. Steele finished tidying himself up and met Scratch outside.

“Where are the explosives?” He asked.

“They’re in the floor safe of our other room. It’s not like we’re going to be carrying those around, so might as well just leave em here where it’s safe.”

“And the crystal?”

“It’s in my bag. You don’t have your clothes on you right now, and we’re carrying some pretty precious cargo; I’d rather not let every traveler see it.” Scratch answered quietly.

“Good thinking.” Steele answered, looking toward the rest of the town. He was glad someone other than himself could make the right decisions. “Let’s go find Hermes. I don’t feel like staying here much longer. Besides, I don’t like being this vulnerable in broad daylight.” He added, looking at his exposed coat.

“Morning, boss man!” Hermes greeted enthusiastically, stopping his friends at the foot of the staircase. He was levitating Steele’s hat and garb, both of which seemed to have gone through some patchy repairs; his own stable suit was reinforced with metal pieces and leather that seemed to be the work of the same inexperienced trader.

“Nice timing.” Steele greeted; he eyed his clothes with displeasure.

“Thanks. How’d you sleep?” Hermes answered. “You don’t look like yourself.” He added.

“I’ll be fine soon as I get my clothes and hard earned pay.” Steele answered, taking his garb and putting it on.

“Sorry about the patchy repairs, but it was the best the trader could do.” Hermes apologized. He looking away while Steele finished dressing himself and put on his hat.

Displeased with the patchwork, yet finally clothed, Steele looked over the repairs. He unsuccessfully tried to not look disappointed at the makeshift work. Instead of his usual neatly concealed protection, large, bulky steel plates covered his shoulder and chest. A few small holes in the leather revealed the older and thinner plates behind it.

“Well I can still walk, so it’ll have to do.” Steele said, breaking the awkward silence. "Least the blood is gone."

“Well you have thicker armor now.” Scratch commented. She herself looked slightly disgusted by Steele's new wear, but said nothing else.”

“What now?” Hermes meekly asked, still feeling bad for doing his job poorly.

“Lets go collect what belongs to us.” Steele answered, pushing past Hermes and heading toward the mayor’s office.

Once there Steele stopped short of the door. “Give me the crystal and stay out here you two, I’ll handle this.” He commanded.

“You sure you’re in the mood to negotiate?” Scratch asked, hesitantly handing over the crystal.

“I’m not, and that’s why I’m going.” He answered, opening the door and walking in.

Upon entering Steele interrupted a conversation between No-Bark and Sunny Aurora, both of whom turned to face him as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. A shot glass filled with apple whiskey sat atop the mayor’s desk, indicating that she had either been working hard recently, or anticipating Steele’s arrival. No-Bark shifted around in his chair while Steele and Sunny stared each other down; both found the matter at hand unpleasant, but Steele knowing he had the leverage this time, took initiative.

“I didn’t know you were waiting for me like this, Sunny.” Steele greeted, walking up to and taking a seat at his chair. “If I’d have known I’d have dressed in something a bit more presentable.” He said, smiling charmingly at Sunny, who bore through him with a fierce stare of utter contempt.

“Good idea, maybe next time you can clean up for the occasion too.” She snickered, eyeing the rusted brown patches left on Steele's coat with disgust.

Steele acknowledged her statement with a nod and quickly looked himself over. “Price I had to pay to get this town what it needs.” He continued calmly.

“Our hero.” Sunny spat.

“I don’t know what it is, but something tells me you’re not exactly happy to see me, so why don’t we cut the formalities and get straight down to business, huh?” Steele offered casually. He levitated the glass of whiskey to his mouth and savored the mayor's face as he took a sip.

“Lets.” Sunny agreed, tearing open a drawer and removing a sack of bits neatly tied shut; she placed it on top of a set of documents and slid the whole package over to Steele. “A thousand caps, two hotel rooms, and -" She took a moment to swallow the idea of her next words. "Citizenship deeming you eligible for a discount at all vendors in Novac.” She finished.

“I assume favors will remain a verbal agreement.” Steele said, looking up from the documents and payment.

“I’d rather not have the town know they owe something to some mercenary.” Sunny answered bitterly.

“This mercenary has more support from the town than its mayor.” Steele remarked. “News gets around fast when problems disappear as soon as a new stranger shows up.” Steele leaned back into his chair. “But, I’m sure they will soon be praising the mayor that gave them access to a fresh water supply in the dry hell they know as the Mojave.”

Sunny eyed the cocky bastard in her chair and thought of all the hateful things she could say. Instead she chose to get the ordeal over with as quickly as possible. “Fair enough, but first things first. The crystal If you please.” Sunny said, extending a hoof toward Steele.

Steele drew the crystal from his saddlebag and began to levitate it over, but withdrew it right before Sunny could take it.

“And the information you owe me?” He said, taking pleasure in watching the mayor’s frustration with him.

“No-Bark here would gladly tell you what he saw soon as you hand over that crystal, wouldn’t you honey?” She asked him, no longer using all the venom she had saved up for Steele.

The crazy pony had been sitting quietly this whole time, trying to not get noticed by Steele for fear of falling victim to another one of his interrogation sessions, but with the reassuring smile from Sunny he found the courage to speak.

“Anything for my wifey.” He began, earning Sunny a confused eyebrow raise from Steele. Wifey? Steele wondered, but a smirk and stern glare from her warned him to stay silent.

“But first, the crystal.” Sunny said, extending her hoof once more, this time she narrowed her eyebrows at Steele. He reluctantly levitated the crystal over, and the major snatched it from his magical grasp as soon as it was close enough. “Thank you.” She sneered. “Now No-Bark dear, can you please tell us what you saw when Lucky passed through town?” She asked, using a tone similar to that of a caring spouse.

“No-Bark sure can!” He exclaimed, returning his attention to Steele. He wet his lips before continuing. “Here No-Bark was, quietly sitting in the dark waiting for the zebra ghosts to show up and attack our brahmin again. It was real cold outside, and Ol' No-Bark was lying real low and quiet like so the ghosts wouldn't see him. Oh if they did he'd sure be in trouble." He wagged his hoof around for emphasis. "No-Bark knows the zebra ghosts don't take kindly to us pony folk, ah-"

"No-Bark dear, can you please get back to the man Steele is looking for?" Sunny asked kindly. No-Bark looked at Sunny like to a stranger for a moment, but recollecting his insane thoughts he continued his story.

"Righty, so here come this trio, real mean looking; their leader all fancy looking in his big shot checkered jacket. He was talking to his two friends, nasty looking raiders that meant trouble, when out of the blue they got attacked and chased by an alicorn. Hoowee I never thought I’d see anything like it, but the darn thing chased em off toward Boulder City.” No-Bark finished, chuckling to himself.

Steele exchanged a quick confused glance with Sunny before asking: “An alicorn?” He confirmed doubtfully. “You’re talking about the extinct species of gods that faded into history, those alicorns, right?”

“Well seems like they ain’t extinct no more!” No-Bark shouted, taking offence at Steele’s sarcasm.

What else did I expect? Steele asked himself. He sighed and kneaded his forehead in an attempt to relief the stress. “Well I heard Boulder City, so that’s where I’m going.” Steele concluded, getting up and stashing his reward. “Thanks for your time ma’am.” He added, sharing a final glance with Sunny before he turned to leave.

“Good luck.” She cooed, taking a sip of her whiskey as she enjoyed the thought of Steele having nothing but a sketchy hint of a lead.

“How’d it go?” Scratch asked him soon as Steele closed the door.

“Well my bag’s a 1000 caps heavier, we got a place to sleep, and we got a destination.” Steele answered, eyeing the nearby food tent with a hungry temptation.

“Where’s that boss man?” Hermes piped up, eager to finally have a lead on the bastard that left him for dead.

“I’ll fill you in soon as I fill my stomach.” Steele said, giving in to his hunger and making his way to the food tent. “You two coming? Common, my treat.” Steele urged.

“Aw, sweet! I was beginning to think you lost your appetite too.” Scratch exclaimed, hurrying to catch up to Steele and finally satisfy her hunger.

“Fine.” Hermes sighed, disappointed about having to wait again; he dragged himself after them.

Steele’s current situation didn’t please him at all. Questions without answers lingered on his mind, mocking him and deluding his thoughts from peace. He felt weak and exhausted as his body had life forced into it by powerful magic, and his restless mind ceased to relent on further stressing it. To make matters worse his responsibilities loomed on his conscience, and all he had to show for his leadership was a sketchy lead given to him by a crazy pony. Things weren’t well and the near future didn’t seem to hold anything promising, but all that didn’t matter right now. He couldn't begin to work on fixing his problems with an empty stomach, and maybe once it was satisfied the world would seem like a habitable place again.

***

Steele let out a content sigh and placed his bowl back onto the table. Nope, still terrible. He thought. Although his stomach might have been full, he still felt empty and disappointed.

“Feel any better?” Scratch asked, making little popping noises as she licked her talons clean; the roasted squirrels she had, appeared to have satisfied her hunger and put her in a good mood.

“Huh?” Steele asked, looking up from his bowl.

“Guess not.” She replied, eyeing Steele’s disconnection with concern.

“So where are we going boss man?” Hermes exclaimed. The suspense was killing him and he had barely touched his food despite having not eaten anything since Steele got out of that damned stable.

“Boulder City.” Steele answered solemnly.

“That’s what No-Bark said?” Hermes pressed.

“Yea, but he also said they were chased by an Alicorn.” Steele added, his tone a mixture of both humor and displeasure.

“Alicorns?” Scratch asked, staring at Steele as if he had been the one to say it.

“Alicorn.” Steele corrected bitterly.

“Well, there are stories-”

“Enough stories Hermes!” Steele growled. “I’ve lived through fables better left stories than history. I’m still not sure what the hell I’m in living now, but if it’s just another story, then I’d rather write it than listen to it!” Steele yelled. He took a moment to calm himself down and not give prying eyes another show. Once calm, Steele took another deep breath. “I know that’s not much of a lead, but it’s all we have. I don’t like it either, but I have no clue as to what the hell we do next, hell I’m having a hard time deciding what to do with myself. So enough stories, enough questions, lets just get back on track so I don’t have time to lose my fucking mind.” He sat back down with a heavy thud and waited for a response.

“My bad boss man, didn’t mean to criticize.” Hermes apologized awkwardly. He returned his attention to his food and played with his cold soup.

“You ever been to Boulder City, Scratch?” Steele asked, switching topics to avoid any awkwardness. This friendship thing was already a bigger pain in the ass than he bargained for.

“I have been, once, but I was on the run from some mercenaries and only stayed there for a night. All I know is half the town’s leveled from some Legion-NLR skirmish back in the first battle for Hoover Dam. Place is crawling with NLR troops that come to honor their fallen.”

“No problems with raiders or Legion then, good. Whoever this Lucky Star guy is must have good relations with the NLR if he decided to stay there for a night; those uptight fakes rarely appreciate uninvited guests.” Steele rose and prepped his gear. “Either Way, lets go. It’s still early and Boulder City is half a days away, if we set out now we can make it before nightfall.” He urged, eager to finally do something other than sitting around and thinking.

“Right behind you.” Scratch replied. She shouldered her sword and followed him into the hot, dry Mojave.

“Comen!” Hermes shouted, his mouth filled with food he desperately tried to finish. After a few more attempts at shoving as much food into his mouth as he could, he gave up and ran after them, his gear comically bouncing around from a lack of secure storage.

The trio went North, toward Boulder City. The trip itself was generally quite since Scratch and Steele have had their fill of socializing, and Hermes, upon not getting anything more than grunts and mumbles, gave up his attempts at making conversation. As the sun lowered itself only slightly above the horizon, the first abandoned housing of Boulder City came into view. Finally here. Steele thought, relieved that he no longer had to endure the heat of the Mojave, and could focus on something other than the filly sized weight on his conscience.

“Take it easy on the water.” Steele instructed Scratch; it was her second bottle for the trip, and Steele was getting agitated. The heat, his fatigue, and his acquired frugality all boiled down into a deep displeasure at seeing the waste of such a precious resource; ignoring him, Scratch raising a talon as she finished the water, further angering him.

“I’m bigger than you, I need more than a bottle like you two.” She stated, tossing her bottle onto the ground.

“Oh, are you?” Steele hissed, leaning into Scratch menacingly and broadening his chest.

“Yea, I am.” Scratch replied, pressing her face against Steele’s and showing off her large form as well. She didn’t like Steele’s tone, and no one was about to out-tough her; she knew better than to step down to ponies.

“Take it easy you two. We’re friends, remember?” Hermes piped up. He felt uneasy about seeing the two of them threaten each other like that. Neither would back down, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do in that situation, so he rather evade it all together.

The two glared fiercely at one another, exchanging threats in complete silence. It would only take a single mistake to pop the thin layer of control keeping the tension at bay. What are you doing? Steele asked himself. A gap in his anger let a single message from his conscience slip through. It killed him to give up, but eventually Steele let off and took a step back; he was ashamed of acting like a brainless raider.

“My bad, the heat’s getting to me. I’m on edge and I took it too far. Try and be less wasteful, with water especially. This is the Mojave, that stuff is rarer and more important than the caps we risk our lives for.” He said, picking up his pace again without another word. He didn’t like giving up his ground like that, especially to someone under his leadership, but he realized that friendship meant he had to admit when he was wrong.

“Alright.” Scratch replied gruffly. She frowned as Steele walked away, still worked up about him treating her like she was an obedient child. Who does he think he is anyway? He might be a tough guy and all, but he’s not the only one around here who can take care of themself. She thought bitterly.

“Hey, Scratch, take it easy.” Hermes asked, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “Steele’s a bit worked up right now, remember? There’s no reason to start fights with someone like him, cause he won’t back down like that again.” Hermes reasoned, hoping a conflict over nothing could be avoided.

Scratch finally brought her attention to Hermes after he tugged on her talons. She simmered down once she got an eyeful of his pleading emerald eyes, and unclenched her fist. Having pleased Hermes she returned her attention to Steele's shrinking form as he gained distance on them; he was shaking his head and all in all appeared unsettled from the confrontation. She sighed and dropped her grudge.

“No need for stupid fights between us, right? We got the Mojave and all the damned things that inhabit it for that.” She answered, smirking as Hermes let out a relieved sigh.

“Thanks.” He said. “Let’s go catch up.” He added, trotting after Steele with Scratch in tow.

When they caught up to him, he was standing still, surveying the scene before him. Up until now the town was deserted and useless, old shops stood vacant and boarded up, buildings were crumbled and structurally weak, and only a few squatters and a traveling merchant with his brahmin were seen walking the streets.

“Guess these were the guys you were talking about, Scratch.” Steele said, looking back at the twenty or so NLR soldiers scattered around the center of the town; oddly enough the mass of well equipped soldiers all seemed on edge and had their weapons drawn. They all varied in size, shape, and race; even a few pegasi joined their ranks. Most were recruits, and their crisp uniforms and rifles paled next to the heavy gear of their seniors. They were all mostly loners and mercenaries united under one flag whose believes they did not necessarily hold. It payed to be one of the largest and well equipped in the Mojave, and all were willing to remain loyal to their colors so long as they stayed on top of the food chain. Strangely enough, the small platoon seemed shaken and on guard. The oddly paired trio had their undivided attention.

Unsettled by the unwanted attention, Hermes leaned toward Steele. “What do we do now?” He whispered.

“I can fly up and see what’s going on, but I rather not get shot by these guys.” Scratch suggested, returning the unpleasant glares. She particularity eyed the pegasi and their rifled battle-saddles.

“No need. I doubt these guys remember me, so lets go see what they’re up to. Who knows, maybe Lucky’s to blame for this.” Steele said. He began to find his way through the en masse of blue uniformed mares and stallions, keeping his hat and eyes low.

“I think I might want to stay back here for now.” Scratch said. “These guys don’t look too happy to see a griffon here.” She explained, pointing a thumb toward the unhappy faces of the NLR.

“Good idea. See if you can find a rooftop where you can still see what’s going on, we might need you.” Hermes replied, looking back at the multitude of NLR soldiers that had their gazes locked onto Scratch. He could still read their tense body language through the layers of leather body armor.

“On it.” Scratch said, spreading her wings and taking off toward the sky, further unnerving the NLR. Once she was out of sight, they returned their hard gazes toward Hermes, judging him for bringing a griffon into their city. He tried to keep calm and followed Steele, turning heads as he went; he followed him to a less populated area of the town square, where the NLR seemed to have set up operations.

“I’m going to have to stop you right there.” Boomed a loud NLR Lieutenant; his blue winged, crescent moon insignia rose and fell with his heavy chest.

“What’s going on here?” Steele asked calmly, unfazed by the Lieutenant’s bravado. Another bastard brainwashed by the NLR officials to actually believe the bullshit they spewed. He thought bitterly.

“You’re not in any position to be asking the questions here.” The Lieutenant answered gruffly, obviously angry that this pitiful excuse of a mercenary was questioning his orders.

“Oh, common. Can’t you just tell us why the mighty NLR, with all their trained soldiers are standing here with their hair on end?” Steele asked, adding a dose of sarcasm that only further angered the Lieutenant.

The thick earth pony stallion opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Hermes.

“Sorry about bothering your operations like this Lieutenant…”

“Lieutenant Gravel Dust.”

“Gravel Dust, but we’re looking for someone named Lucky Star. We heard he passed by here with his two friends. Have you seen them?”

The large pony eyed the duo, particularly Steele and the heated animosity in his eyes. Even a large guy like him was put off by his nerve, so he decided to acknowledge his politer friend instead.

“Can’t say I have, but you two are going to have to resume your search another time. Right now we got a hostage situation on our hooves. A couple of Goths have captured some of our soldiers after we got word about their location here from some stranger. They’re holed up in one of the buildings up ahead." He nodded toward the section of the town that seemed to have taken the brunt of the fighting and left a single decomposing building as the sole survivor. "We got a few soldiers taking cover and making negotiations right now, but the Goths inside know they're done for and are not giving up the fight. Anything could happen, so we’re keeping civilians out of this.” He answered.

“Goths?” Hermes asked.

“Nasty bastards that are capable of giving even Legion a run for their money. They used the be the largest and toughest raider gang in the Mojave and beyond. Least till Legion and the NLR brought their numbers to a dwindling few, they're only the shadow of what they once were.” Steele informed.

Gravel smirked and spat onto the ground. “They were raider scum that threatened the security and stability of the Mojave, and NLR operations.” Gravel stated. “They deserved to be eradicated.”

“Funny, you said that almost exactly like they taught you to at boot camp." Steele smirked. "Forgot the part about the greatness of the NLR." He remarked sarcastically.

“Excuse me?!” Gravel barked, steam threatening to rush out of his nose with every deep exhale as he steamed with anger.

“As I was saying, they have a nasty initiation ritual, and every Goth is not to be taken lightly. I say it’s best not to piss them off or engage them head on, least not in melee combat. Their pain tolerance is similar if not greater and as severe as Legion’s.” Steele explained, completely ignoring Gravel and facing Hermes, who was unnerved by Steele’s actions and their potential consequences.

“Is there something you want to tell me, boy?!” Gravel yelled, the veins in his neck nearly popping as he gripped Steele and raised him into the air, forcing Gravel to rise on his hind legs.

Steele’s ice cold gaze clashed with Gravel's fiery stare. “We just want to pass through and see if we can help you guys with your problem.” He wheezed, pulling back on Gravel’s tight grasp with his own hooves to avoid being choked. “Besides.” He added, his horn glowing. “We don’t want to have a problem, now do we?” He grinned as Gravel’s eyes widened at the sound of a click; his grasp loosened with a cold .44 magnum's barrel at his temple. He looked back to find Hermes, although nervous and uneasy, levitating his plasma rifle and standing at the ready.

“I hope they kill you two.” Gravel growled, dropping Steele. “You're lucky my men weren’t nearby to kill you both.”

“Thanks for your time.” Steele replied, re-holstering his revolver and moving past the angry Lieutenant.

"We'll see what we can do to help." Hermes quickly offered before catching up to his reckless friend. To think I put my life in this guy's hooves! He thought. “What the hell was that, Steele?” Hermes whispered loudly once he caught up.

“I got us through, didn’t I?” Steele asked nonchalantly, signaling to the few NLR troops who were entrenched in front of the building.

“You nearly got us killed, is what you did.” Hermes replied bitterly, climbing up the NLR trench after Steele.

“Oh yea, about that. I appreciate the loyalty back there. Honestly didn’t believe you’d have the guts to aim at that guy.” Steele added, stopping short of a broken wooden door that separated them and the Goths inside.

“No problem.” Hermes sighed. He decided to drop the subject upon seeing that he was getting nowhere.

“Focus Hermes, these guys don’t fuck around.” Steele commanded, drawing his revolvers and Hermes’s attention. “And remember, no niceties.” He added before kicking down the door and stepping in, guns ablaze.

Steele stood still, his eyes locked on the stallion that levitated a sawed off shotgun and pointed it at his face. The Goth was surprised and quickly re-adjusted his stance to match Steele’s, his friend only had time to pick up his 9mm submachine gun and aim at Steele as well, his jaw clenching the gun’s grip tightly.

“Hello gentlemen, we’d like a word.” Steele announced, keeping his guns locked on his attackers, and his eyes on the shotgun wielding unicorn.

“Oh, so you think you’re fucking funny huh, tough guy.” The unicorn said, his voice strident.

“Blow his fucking brains out.” The other Goth suggested. He spat out his gun, obviously deeming Steele not worth the effort.

“With pleasure.” The unicorn answered, grinning at Steele.

“Now take it easy you two, you don’t want the NLR to come here and kill you all, now do you?” Steele reasoned. “That is, if I’m not done with you two first.” He added, pulling back the hammers of his revolvers.

“Big mouth for a dead man.” The unicorn answered, levitating his gun closer to Steele.

“Celestia dammit Steele! Why can’t you enter like a normal-” Hermes shouted, entering plasma gun first and stopping his sentence short.

“Well, Luna fuck me.” The earth pony said softly, apparently in awe of Hermes’s presence.

“It’s you, you piece of shit!” Hermes yelled. He launched himself at the Goth, pinning him to the wall with his rifle; his eyes threatening to melt a hole in his chest before he could pull the trigger.

“Whoa, take it easy hot shot!" The Goth protested, raising his hooves and giving up the fight. "Fuck man, If I didn’t know any better I’d say a ghost has come to kill me for my sins.” He smirked, eyeing Hermes with fearful recognition.

Steele and his unicorn opponent gave each other a quick glance of confusion before returning their attention to their partners. Way to grow a pair of balls Hermes. He thought proudly, surprised that his clumsy, loose-tongued friend out machismo-ed a Goth.

“I thought we killed you for good.” The Goth continued. He tried to casually push away the rifle, but Hermes only thrust his deeper into his chest.

“Yea, Lucky must have been a lousy shot.” Hermes hissed back, his magic squeezing the trigger slowly.

“Look, I’m sorry man. I was only doing what Lucky told me to, and now the fucker left us for dead too. He took your package and threw us to the NLR. Hell I’d like to see him dead as much as you do.” The Goth explained, obviously bewildered by the stallion who escaped death.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” Hermes demanded, bringing his rifle up to his old assailant's throat; his friend swung his gun at Hermes, but Steele used the opportunity to dig his revolvers into the unicorn's throat.

“This isn’t between us, so I don’t think there’s a need for our guns. We can put them down now.” He suggested, twisting his guns to prove his point. The Goth lowered his gun begrudgingly, but stared at Steele with a growing distaste; loyal to the deal, Steele lowered his guns as well, but kept them out in the open in case of trouble. Goths weren't ones to like being out-alphaed.

“Because if you kill me now, then you’ll never know where to find Lucky, and Magister militum will gladly have your head.” The earth pony reasoned. To Steele’s surprise, he made no effort to try and counter Hermes’s attack; if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the Goth was actually scared of him.

“Magister who?” Hermes asked, poking the Goth with his gun again.

“Their leader. It’s best to stay on his good side.” Steele informed.

“Yea, listen to your friend.” The unicorn Goth piped up.

“It’s wiser to stay on my good side.” Steele threatened, glaring at the unicorn.

“Fine then, you tell me where’s Lucky, and we can talk about you getting out of here alive.” Hermes said, backing off and giving the Goth a bit of breathing room.

“With pleasure. The bastard was last at The Follower’s church, back toward the outskirts of this town. We didn’t have a chance to ask him what the hell he needed there before he stole the package and took off, hoping to claim the profit and leave us without pay no doubt.” The Goth explained, spitting on the ground at the thought of Lucky. “Oh, and here, a souvenir for you. It's Lucky's lighter. Shove it up his ass when you catch up with him.” He said, taking out a small, engraved lighter and tossing it to Hermes, who caught it with his magic.

“With pleasure.” Hermes answered, looking over the lighter and re-holstering his plasma rifle. “As for you getting out of here. If you release the hostages, we can get the NLR to let you go without a fight, deal?”

“Ha, you make sure they agree to that, and then we’ll do it.” The unicorn Goth remarked.

“He has a point. The NLR won’t give up an opportunity like this easily.” Steele said.

“Let me do the talking then.” Hermes assured him, a new zest in his actions. He left Steele and the Goths alone to an awkward silence while he talked things out with Dusty.

“So… no hard feelings then?” Steele asked, attempting to break the ice.

“Yea, you get us out of here alive, and no hard feelings.” The unicorn replied.

Hermes returned after a few tense minutes later.

“They’ve agreed to let you guys go if you let the hostages leave first.”

“As if we’d fall for that.” The earth pony Goth smirked.

“I don’t think you guys have much of a choice.” Steele said.

“Yea, but it’s better than getting rid of our leverage and letting them come and get us.”

“They were ready to come in and kill you anyways. Before we got here, they had men getting ready to move in and kill you both.” Hermes said. “Letting them go is your best bet.” He added.

The two Goths looked at each other and silently argued as to whether or not to do as they were told. A short conversation between their eyes, and the earth pony sighed. He kicked a nearby chair and looked down regretfully. “Tell them we have a deal.” He barked.

“Alright, come out after the hostages are out of the way.” Hermes instructed, turning to leave.

“Hey, courier.” The Goth called.

“Yea?”

“Before you kill the fucker, tell em “Blade sends his regards, will ya?” Blade asked.

“Sure.” Hermes answered, walking to meet Dusty. Steele followed him out.

“They’re letting the hostages go now.” Hermes announced as the duo met once more with Dusty.

“Good. Now we can kill them without trouble.” Dusty replied, unsheathing his radio from his garb.

“What!? You said you’d let them go!” Hermes yelled.

“Yea, but HQ just sent us new orders. I can’t just let them off like I promised.” Dusty said, looking past Hermes and Steele. “Good, I see our boys are unscathed. Nice work gentlemen, the NLR gives you its thanks.” He told them. He brought the radio to his muzzle and pressed its button. “Firing squad.” He began.

“You can’t do this! We had a deal!” Hermes yelled, rage and a hatred for the NLR swelling inside him; he considered drawing his rifle.

“You can’t trust anything that comes out of an NLR officer. They have no honor and would rather do what gets them paid than what's right.” Steele said. “Ain’t that right, Lieutenant?” He asked, giving Dusty his most criticizing glare.

“Orders, sir?” Dusty’s radio buzzed.

Dusty glared at Steele with utmost contempt. He had never met anyone who dared to even attempt to push his buttons, but damn with this bastard good at it. He shifted his gaze to the steaming courier, observing the effect his actions had on him. Oddly enough a change in thought seemed to pass through the Lieutenant's thick skull, and he returned his attention to the radio.

“Firing squad.” He began, staring at the duo. “Stand down.” He finished, securing his radio and looking meaningfully at Hermes.

“Copy that, standing down.” The radio replied.

“The NLR is more trustworthy and respectable than your friend here makes you believe.” Dusty stated. “We thank you for your help.” He added, turning his back to the duo and walking off to fulfill his other duties.

Blade and his fellow Goth trotted nervously past Hermes and Steele.

“We won’t forget this!” He shouted.

The duo watched the Goths disappear into the outskirts of town; to Steele Hermes appeared a bit disappointed in not dishing out his revenge, but he as he watched his friend sigh contently and eye his new trinket, he knew they had made the most of the situation. “To the church than?” He asked once Hermes had gotten awfully quiet.

“Yea, and Steele.” Hermes delayed, eyeing his rough friend with a smile.

“Hmm?” Steele asked; he raised a brow at Hermes's odd behavior.

“Thanks for your help. I don’t think this would have ended as smoothly without you.”

Steele rolled his eyes and resumed his search for the church. “Don’t get all sappy on me yet kid.” He replied, leaving Hermes alone to stare at him quizzingly. What kind of church could exist in the Mojave? He wondered, returning to the pointless task at hoof. Most had given up on the goddesses, and those that didn't, kept it to themselves. All Steele hoped was that this wouldn’t be another mad cult whose beliefs the Mojave had corrupted.

“You can’t keep things nice, can you?” Hermes asked, trotting up to Steele and interrupting his thoughts.

“Things don’t stay nice in the Mojave.” He answered.

“You but you’re not a thing.” Hermes argued.

“Then I’m an asshole.” Steele countered.

“Well can’t argue with-”

“You sure you want to finish that?” Steele inquired, narrowing his eyes at the courier.

“Me?” Hermes asked, raising a hoof to his chest with a sarcastic, hurt expression. "Never." He laughed; Steele wasn’t as cold as he lead himself to believe.

The duo found themselves in the worst part of the town; nothing stood taller than a few stories here, and most of it was destroyed. The air grew thicker here as the dry Mojave breeze picked up dust and ash. All that remained of a once lively city lay scattered across the desert in ashes, or in rubble on the streets.

“You sure this is where we need to go?” Hermes asked. “It’s getting dark.” He noticed.

“Depends, does that fit your description of a church?” Steele asked, pointing to an old building. Surprisingly the only structure that appeared habitable around this part of town blended well with the remains around it, and effectively hid its gloomy exterior from anyone not directly seeking it. Its once white wood was now closer to gray, and its structure seemed rotting and unstable. Standing three stories tall, the old hazard had its windows blown in and boarded up; only the insignia of the goddesses remained attached above its thick, wooden double doors, protected by a magic long lost.

“You guys sure like to wander and cause trouble.” Scratch announced, flying down from seemingly nowhere to meet her friends. She landed with a soft thump and eyed them both. “Didn’t think you guys were going to be dealing with Goths, not to mention cause trouble with the NLR too; hell I was ready to swoop down and decapitate the bastard that had you pinned, Steele.”

“Nice to know you had us covered then.” Steele answered sourly.

“Hey, what’s with the tone?” Scratch asked, starting to get annoyed with Steele’s mood swings.

“Oh sorry, I forgot it was custom for you to run away soon as there’s trouble.” Steele remarked sarcastically, scowling at Scratch.

“Run?! I was watching you guys from one of the rooftops because my presence there would only anger the NLR! I don’t run, Steele! And I’d like it if you shove you sarcasm and anger elsewhere.” Scratch said menacingly, thrusting a talon into his chest and forcing him to lean back. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is today, but I won’t have any of it, especially not when I watched your sorry ass for a whole night.”

“God, it’s like you’re a married couple.” Hermes remarked; he giggled, but stifled himself and cleared his throat when the bickering couple gave him another set of glares.

“You’re right.” Steele piped up, surprising the both of them with his response. “I’d thought you ran off when you didn’t show up behind us, and the wasting of water from earlier had me worked up. I was wrong Scratch, and I apologize. We even?” He asked, extending his hoof to her.

Scratch stared at Steele’s hoof for a moment; pondering what kind of trickery Steele was up to. He didn’t seem like the kind to apologize, heck even she didn’t apologize unless absolutely necessary. She searched his eyes for answers to his odd behavior, but finding nothing no trace of animosity she accepted the apology. “Yea, we’re even.” She said, shaking his hoof.

“See, you even make up like a couple! Just don’t kiss on me now, if the NLR sees you they might start shooting for public indecency." Hermes commented, giving his best to not break out in tears from his own joke.

With a hoof-print on his cheek and lingering pain from the worst noogie of his life, Hermes caught up to his friends and joined them at the churches doors mumbling curses to himself.

“It was just a joke.” Hermes complained, rubbing his sore head and face. Ignoring his whining, Steele swung the large, metal door knocker and listened to the deep sound echo throughout the church; soon hooves clicked behind the door.

The trio exchanged mixed expressions as they listened to hushed voices and movements from inside. Eventually one the the heavy doors creaked as it opened slowly, revealing a dim interior lit by nothing more than candles.

“How may the church help you?” A silver maned, dark purple unicorn asked; his light purple eyes scanned the suspicious trio nervously.

“We’re looking for-”

“Guidance? Yes, many that come here do, but I’m afraid I cannot be the judge of that. Please come in.” The unicorn interrupted Hermes, opening the door and ushering the trio into the dark and ominous looking church.

The trio were hesitant about accepting this robed stanger’s invitation, but Steele rolled his eyes and pushed forward, deciding that he’d already seen enough to not fear the dark. He lead the group down the aisle, his hooves clicking softly against the aged and worn wood. As they walked, the trio observed their surroundings with mixed feelings of wonder and apprehension. They past old pews that once held faithful ponies, and walls that held dim, spiritless candles. To Steele, this seemed like a place where faith and hope came to die, not to be found, but his friends seemed to have their own opinions about the eerie, almost malign interior. They could have used a better interior decorator. Steele snickered to himself. His short trip down the main aisle stopped Steele short of the church’s pulpit, and left him wondering whether to admire or detest the ominous structure. The pulpit itself was crafted out a thick, dark wood; its lectern was made of the same material and seemed to stem from the pulpit. Behind the impressive display, the insignia of the goddesses’ was embedded into the wall, overlooking the rest of the church like a watchful eye, almost as if it could banish any evil that would enter. Surrounding the emblem was a crescent candle stand, encircling the emblem with dim light.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” The mysterious unicorn asked, suddenly next to Steele.

“Iron Weld! We do not bring darkness and sin within these walls!” A new voice boomed, resonating through out the empty church.

Surprised, Steele scanned the room to find the source of the powerful voice, and was taken aback when he found it belonged to a frail old pony. The old coot had appeared out of nowhere and was now standing on the pulpit, almost as if he had risen from the ages old wood; his features were hidden by the dim light, giving him a mysterious and powerful presence.

“I’m sorry Oracle.” Iron Weld apologized, kneeling apologetically. “These strangers came here for guidance.” He explained, pointing a hoof toward Steele and his friends, his gaze never leaving the floor.

“You have brought sin into this house!” Oracle yelled, leaning over the lectern and revealing his ice cold, foggy, blind eyes; eyes that pierced Steele’s being and criticized his very core.

“But, sir-”

“Enough!” Oracle roared, forcing Iron weld to wince and return his gaze to the floor. “You three, come forward.” He instructed, balancing himself on lectern.

So much for normality Steele mused, stealing a glance at his friends; they shared the same confused look, but said nothing and looked to Steele for instruction. Steele stepped forward, deciding that this might be the only way he’d get any answers out of the mysterious grey unicorn.

“Lost and searching for guidance are we? Well, you will find it here, however-”

“Actually we’re-”

“Silence!" Oracle demanded, slamming his hoof on the lectern. I know what you are here for, the goddesses foresee everything and I, as their prophet, will act as the vessel that shall fulfill their wishes!” So much for a sane church. Steele thought bitterly, deciding to hold his tongue for now. “The goddesses brought you to me so that I may provide you guidance in your time of need, but first... I must pass judgement.” He paused, scanning each of them with his cold, pale eyes. Under his gaze, Steele's friends shifted uncomfortably, and Hermes looked away completely. “I sense evil among you, and I will deem you either worthy of the goddesses' blessing, or damned to rot a sinner’s path.” He continued. “Young one, step forward.” He instructed, keeping his cold stare locked onto Hermes.

“Me?” Hermes hesitated, wondering how a blind pony can see so much. Steele's distasteful eye-roll motivated him to step forward obediently.

“Your hoof child, give it to me please.” Oracle asked, offering his own weathered hooves in return.

Hermes hesitated, glancing back at his friends for guidance, but complied and surrendered his hooves. Oracle gripped Hermes’s hooves tightly, and in an instant pulled himself mere inches from his eyes, staring at them intensely as if searching for the very essence of Hermes's core; frozen in fear, Hermes could do nothing more than surrender his stare to the misty eyes, caught in their cobra-like spell. Within only a few moments the psychic began to tremble slightly, a low pitched hum escaped through his pursed lips; as if to strengthen Hermes's anxiety the mystics eyes began search every nook and cranny of his own, letting no secrets stay hidden from their magnetizing grasp.

Suddenly, the old mystic dropped the courier's hooves and rested himself upon the lectern. “Child!” Oracle yelled, startling Hermes out of his trance. “Not a single wicked mark poisons your soul, no impurity clogs your airy heart, and no sin clouds your mind with grief." He explained, easing Hermes with the flattering description. "But, beware young one." Oracle warned, catching his attention once more. "For a blank page is easily tarnished by those less-" He lingered on the last word, choosing instead to gaze in Steele's direction, eliciting a rather un-amused smirk from the pony who waited impatiently in the shadows. "Pure." He finished; he stared meaningfully at Hermes now. "Beware your heroics child as you know not of the hardships that life holds, and not of the chaos that plagues the land and seeks to corrupt the last remaining spirit of the days of old. I advise you my son, to form an image of yourself now, before you are so easily corrupted and deluded by the very thing you strive to protect; fill the page with your words before other's leave their corrupt marks on it, and be wary to trust the ever charming snake." Oracle hissed, almost whispering as he leaned closer to Hermes. "You young one has the goddesses' blessing." He announced, returning to the floor and waving Hermes off. "Now my daughter, come into the light and let me shine it upon your dim soul." He instructed,

You know not of the hardships that life beholds and retain the spirit of the days of old. But beware young soul!” Oracle warned, leaning into Hermes and covering his face with breath as stale as the pony it belonged to. “You can be corrupted, tricked, easily deluded by the very thing you strive to protect." The mad pony pulled back and returned to the ground. "There will be hardships soon, but stay on the right path. Beware child, do not let the things you hold dear lead you astray!” He finished, taking a moment to regain his breath and recharge for another reading. “The young one has the goddesses’ blessing.” He announced, returning to a calm voice. “Please, my daughter, step forward and let me shine a light on your dim soul.” He instructed, coaxing Scratch to come closer.

Scratch hesitated, but decided to humor the crazy pony nonetheless. She approached the lectern and offered her talons with annoyed skepticism. I mean, you don't even have to see Hermes to know he's a wuss. She thought un-amusingly while observing the old coot.

“Do not grow tense my child, the goddesses see no difference in their children and neither do I.” He said, smiling as if he could see the surprise on her face. Although a bit flustered, Scratch did as she was told and relaxed, tempted to hear what Oracle had to say.

Oddly enough, Oracle took his time with handling Scratch's talons, gripping them gingerly and running his hooves across them slowly. He released one of her talons and focused on her right one as he inspected it diligently, yet delicately as he searched for all the answers he needed. To Scratch it was an awkward talon massage that she never signed up for, yet it appeared that Oracle deemed the process similar to that of reading a complex book, his brows furrowing and lips pursing as if he was struggling to pass a difficult paragraph. Once he finished, he gently lowered her talons and sighed heavily. “Yours is a dim soul indeed. Pain and guilt dirty your mind with fear, as fate seems to cruelly take from you the one thing you yearn to obtain. Oracle raised his head to meet Scratch with sorrowful eyes. " You deem yourself as broken as the world that you relentlessly toil yourself in, searching feverishly for answers you fear you'll never find. Indeed, the future holds many questions for you, questions to which answers will be hard to find.” As Oracle uncovered the truths she wished to leave buried within the confines of her mind, Scratch's bold bravado began to melt into sadness and disbelief. She refused to hear that what she already knew, and she looked away from Oracle, ignoring whatever else he had to say. “Look up child.” Oracle instructed softly, bringing a cold hoof to Scratches beak and lifting it till she faced at him. “There will be many moments in your life where you will be faced with truths you can’t and won’t want to believe, but you must overcome them." He inspired, straightening himself and raising his voice to a more commanding tone. "Stand tall my daughter, for I see answers at the end of your journey. Do not give in, and you will find them in time.” Oracle finished, dropping his hoof from Scratch’s face. “She has passed judgment.” He added, smiling warmly at the surprised, yet seemingly content griffon as she joined Hermes’s side, lost in thought as she mulled over what had been foretold by the old prophet.

“Come my son. I can feel your hesitation, but I must assure you, I speak the truth no matter how badly you wish to deafen yourself to it.” Oracle instructed, cutting off Steele mid eye-roll.

A lunatic, a con-artist that sells his bullshit so passionately that he may even believe in the shit he's selling; Oracle was nothing more than that for Steele. However, the mad pony was the only one standing between him and the progress of his regrettable "quest of virtue", and that was incentive enough for Steele to begrudgingly take part in Oracle's act despite the sinking feeling in his gut. Bullshit or not, Oracle and the rest of the church felt off.

As Steele took his spot, Oracle's face tensed into an unpleasant frown. “Your hooves son, quickly.” He urged, prepping his own hooves to ambush Steele's once close; his sudden aggression made Steele think twice about listening, but curious, Steele obeyed only to find his hooves seized swiftly. As soon as Oracle had Steele's hooves in his possession he winced, almost as if they had burned him and he refused to let go. “Your hooves son, they are so cold.” Oracle whispered, his face quickly twisting with pain; he began to sweat and moan.

A few moments of awkward moaning passed, and Oracle began to have an intense conversation between things only seen to him; his tone changing in pitch and volume as he murmured his insane conversation out loud. His mad little show was slowly plucking away at the last nerves Steele had, testing his patience as he grew further agitated by having his hooves locked to the demented freak show. Growing sweaty himself, Steele looked to his friends for support, but found them uselessly enthralled in act; even Scratch payed him no mind as she eyed Oracle with a strong sense of foreboding. Looks like I'm sitting this one through alone. Steele realized, deciding to endure for a while longer. Suddenly, Oracle threw away Steele's hooves and collapsed onto the lectern, gasping for air as he dampened the wood with his perspiration; in the surprised silence, Iron Weld stepped forward worryingly before Oracle shot back up and glared at Steele with disgust.

“Your soul is blackened with sins that you weigh your mind and scar your body. Corruption invades your thoughts, blackening your judgement. Your heart beats not with pure blood and hospitality, but instead bleeds black ink filled with fear, pain, and regret." Oracle accused. He began to circle Steele, who hid under his hat and took the all too familiar insults. "You're beyond broken child, you're corrupt, dirtied with sins of your past, some of which are not yours to bear. Truly, you bear a burden that is not all yours to bear, dirtying yourself with the sins and blames of others and letting their corruption sully your own weathered soul." Oracle came to a stop in front of Steele, staring meaningfully at the icy pony. "But indeed, a bleeding heart is not a frozen heart. You yearn for freedom, for redemption, for forgiveness, and oddly... for acceptance." Oracle mused. "Corruption can be cleansed my son, but it cannot wash away the troubles you yourself choose to hold onto. Cold, perhaps you are son, but I do not yet see heartlessness, so learn to not pay for the wicked deeds of others, and accept your failures as lessons." Oracle warned edging closer as he spoke. "Your past makes you selfish, but beware for soon you shall be faced with a burden far greater than can be fathomed my most. Some will deem you a demon, others a hero, yet all will play you to their will. Treasure what you have child, for losing them will only have you lose yourself." Oracle had stopped short of Steele and stayed silent, letting Steele process the warnings given. For Steele, the rant was nothing more than a collection of all the insults he heard before, and a bunch of nonsense he deemed worthless to pay any mind to. "There is more!" Oracle announced with a loud stomp that resonated throughout the church, startling all; he brought himself only a few mere inches from Steele's muzzle, clouding Steele's airway with his aged, rancid breath. "Your possession and failure to differentiate your mistakes from those of others fuels a malevolent bond with a soul that needs you as much as you refuse to let it go." Oracle griped Steele's garb tightly, trying to shake sense into the speechless mercenary. "It feeds from you child! For the goddessess' sake you must let go, for the good of you both free your heart and mind from its shadowy grasp! Only then can you be cleansed!" He commanded, pushing Steele till he sat, frozen in disbelief.

The final threads of precious patience and control Steele held onto snapped, and the ground beneath him felt like it had been ripped right from under him. How could he know? How could anyone know! He asked himself. The sore subject pulled on familiar heartstrings and Steele struggled to control his emotions. He seized Oracle fiercely, staring madly into the blind pony's eyes.

"How much do you know!" He demanded. "Tell me old man!" He pleaded, shaking Oracle as he struggled from snapping completely. Scratch and Hermes felt the urge to do something, but neither moved as they remained frozen in disbelief of what was unfolding in front of them. Emotion was an unknown word to Steele, and for him to so easily be forced into an emotional panic was baffling.

“I cannot let you leave until you are cleansed child!” Oracle shocked, accepting Steele's anger. “You must let me cleanse you, for I, as a prophet of the goddesses cannot let you leave otherwise!”

“You’re crazy!” Steele objected, dropping and backing away from Oracle. “This is all bullshit! And I’m tired of wasting my time here any longer!” Steele objected, breathing heavily as he yearned to deny everything Oracle had said.

“Steele.” Hermes began, taking care with treading on thin ice.

“No Hermes, I’m tired of this stupid quest you have me running!” Steele barked.

“Son, you don’t have a choice, unless you wish to attack an old man that is.”Oracle said calmly.

“Look at yourself Steele, you're a mess and you know it. Listening to someone else for once might do you good.” Scratch said. “The sooner you do, the sooner we leave.” She added.

Steele glared at her, but intent on not making a scene he shut his eyes and took a deep breath;perhaps she was right. He was losing mind and tempter at the thought of being read so clearly by the mad pony. There's no point in humoring them anymore. He resolved, deciding that Oracle may have taken a lucky shot in the dark and hit a weak point.

“Ok, I’ll do it if you’ll give us what we’re looking for.” Steele surrendered.

“You might find more than you’re searching for.” Oracle warned. “Iron Weld! The materials please!” He commanded.

Iron Weld moved swiftly, levitating a large metal tub onto the pulpit and filling it with a questionable liquid. He then retrieved a necklace that had a smaller insignia embedded in it, and gave it to Oracle.

“Now my son, remove your clothing and kneel before the waters blessed by the goddesses.” He instructed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Steele objected, eyeing the sludge-like liquid with caution.

“Kneel!” Oracle commanded once more. This time Steele did as he was told, removing his garb, and kneeling in front of the tub to meet his grim reflection. “Now, in the name of the goddesses, in the name of Equestria, in the name of this church, do you repent my son? Do you wish to have your sins washed free, forgiven by the goddesses?” Oracle asked, projecting his mighty voice across the whole church.

“I do.” Steele answered reluctantly.

“Then pay a price for your sins! Let them surface now!” Oracle commanded, levitating a whip from the lectern and whipping Steele across the back.

Steele screamed, his anger surfacing like the streaks of red that ran across his back. Scratch and Hermes flinched, reaching for their weapons, but were stopped by Iron Weld.

“No! Don’t, it is necessary!” He pleaded, momentarily quelling their anger and forcing them watch with cautious anxiety.

“Do you wish to wash your sins now that they are out in the open for all to see, to sever your ties with the wicked?!” Oracle asked, whipping Steele again and forcing a yelp of pain from the hardened unicorn.

It took every ounce of willpower for Steele to not lash out on the crazy bastard.

“Yes.” He answered through grit teeth, more out of anger for being reminded of his Legion days than from pain.

“So be it.” Oracle finished, walking behind Steele and submerging his head in the vile liquid.

Steele thrashed, surprised by the sudden action. His throat erupted in fiery pain as he breathed in a mouthful of the vile liquid. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, and pain erupted throughout his body. He tried to fight back, but somehow the frail old pony held him securely submerged. I won’t die like this! Steele commanded himself, placing his hooves against the ground and getting ready to push back with all his being.

Suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the force behind his head lifted and Steele’s head shot out of the tub, gasping for air much like a fish out of water. Steele struggled to regain his breath, each inhale bringing a sharp wave of pain with it. His lungs and his muzzle burned, but not as much as his desire for revenge. He scanned the room with red, itchy eyes. He heard yelling, but as he scanned the room he found his vision fleeting. Everything was getting blurry, and Steele tried to spin around to spot his friends. But as he turned, only darkness filled his vision, and he collapsed as pain filled his body.