Prey

It was a cold morning in Maybe-January in the year of Celestia-Knows-When. I was on the top level of a two-level bunk, underneath me was Black Widow (Who I think was reading PlayPony the other night.) I got up, climbing down a rickety ladder and taking my backpack from a hook on the wall, the sound of which made Black Widow grumble.

“Awake?” I asked.

“Now I am.” She said with a bitter tone.

She got up with me, and we both trotted to the town center. We hadn’t been assigned to any missions the previous night, so it was our first day off in recent months.

“Want a beer?” I asked, retrieving a lukewarm can of it from my saddlebags and opening it, losing a little to the spray that resulted from it not being kept cool.

“Nah, not in the mood.” She said, looking to the gray sky.

“You’re never in the mood for a beer.” I joked lightly.

“Fuck you.” She said with a slight hint of a chuckle in her voice.

“I thought you were mares-only.” I retorted.

She opened her mouth to say something, then paused and laughed a little.

“I have no way to retort for that, gramps. That’s just funny.” She laughed as she called me by my nickname.

She flicked her mane out of her face and got a cigarette from her saddlebag. She used her magic to get a small wisp of flame to form in the air, which she brought to the cigarette to light it before extinguishing it.

“You know you’re supposed to be quitting.” I told her.

“I only said I’d quit because we ran out. I almost squealed when we found that carton in the old general goods store.” She said, taking a puff from it and blowing the smoke into my face to make me cough.

“I did see you jump a little.” I commented.

“I saw the spider that almost bit you.” She was lying. The blush in her face was obvious, and I saw the spider first.

“It’s not good for your health.” I told her. (Ironic that I’m drinking beer at the same time, isn’t it?)

“Neither is going out to scavenge after you went to the doctors a week earlier after complaining that your leg was aching. You really ought to talk to Octavia about retiring, you know.” She took another puff.

“I don’t know if I can retire. I’m probably too valuable, to her and the other scavengers, anyway.” I commented, sipping my beer a little. It didn’t taste like a cloud felt, but at least it tastes better than the pig shit that some of the survivors in the old bar try to distill.

“Yeah. Nopony’s lived long enough to retire, anyways.” Black Widow commented, taking a little break from her cigarette.

“Why bother quitting, anyways? Not like I have a retirement home waiting to tuck me in.” I took a rather large gulp of beer.

“Slow down. You sound like a dragon swallowing somepony.” Black Widow said sharply.

“Well you smell like one.” I always had comebacks when it came to our vices for some odd reason.

She laughed lightly, taking another drag from her cigarette before examining it, and then putting it out in the dirt.

Octavia approached us, and we both put down our things and saluted. It was customary of our little “military.”

“Please don’t do that without saying ‘good morning, Octavia’ first.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her hoof to dismiss us. We put down our hooves and waited.

“What’s up?” Black Widow asked, breaking the ice.

“I’ve looked at our medical supply charts, lately. We’re running low. At the rate we’re using them, we’ll run out by the week. Are you two in the mood for a mission tomorrow?” She asked, taking out the records of our supplies and how long we had until they were depleted.

“As ready as we’ll ever be, Octavia.” I said.

“Good. Meet me at the northern entrance after dawn tomorrow. “ Octavia turned, her patchwork hood flapping in the breeze.

“Not even a ‘want to get some breakfast at the kitchen, you two?’ Jeez, she really is as serious as I thought she was. Whelp, I’m crossing her off my ‘to-do’ list.” Black Widow took out a chart of mares names and crossed out Octavia with an ink pen. I laughed, since only I and a select few others really knew what being on Black Widow’s to-do list entailed.

Then a bell was sounded, coming from the main entrance. A bell was sounded three times, meaning that Loverboy was back. Black Widow and I rushed to the entrance, along with a myriad of survivors that seemed to appear out of thin air. Loverboy came through the main entrance doors, whilst soldiers nearby kept an eye for any Preds who found it to be an opportune time to rush in. Loverboy came in, pulling a small makeshift caravan behind him. When he was in, they shut the doors. He released the handle in his mouth, caught his breath, and then spoke.

“’Ello mates and birds, I’m back.” Loverboy said with a smile, wiping some sweat from his forehead. The crowd cheered by stamping their hooves on the ground and emitting some whistles, but the louder ones were quickly silenced by some guards.

Loverboy pulled the cover off of his caravan, revealing what he had found. Can upon can of food, a crate full of assorted ammunition and magazines, a couple rifles, and a crate of twelve wine bottles. No medicine. Me and Black Widow sighed, since both of our hopes of not going outside were crushed.

As soldiers began to put the supplies into bags, we trotted up to Loverboy.

“’Ello Iron. What’s happening in this neck of the woods?” He said with a thick British accent as he gave me a hoof-bump.

“Nothing. We know that you’ve gone though a lot, but-“

“We need medicine. Wanna come with us?” Black Widow interrupted me, cracking her neck a little.

“Sure. Not like I have anything else to do.” Loverboy said, taking his lever-action rifle out of it’s holster.

We had spent the rest of that night trying pitifully to crack jokes, drink, and enjoy some of the rarer things that Loverboy brought to our camp. Octavia scolded us lightly for drinking, but refrained from punishing us. She once lived our life, so she knows how nerve-wracking the idea of going outside can be.

The next day, after we had all slept, we packed up some things for our trip. I packed a pistol, a flare gun, plenty of ammo for both, and a bowie knife. I had traveled with Black Widow so many times that I didn’t even think of checking what torture devices she put in her bag. Loverboy, trying to look all badass, took the rifle in his holster and filled his backpack with as many rifle-bullets as it could carry. We all met at the main entrance, and as promised, Octavia was there.

“You’ll be going to the pharmacy next to the exit to Canterlot.” She began to brief us.

“You’re looking for anything useful. Painkillers, Penicillin, vitamin supplements, and for Celestia’s sake, Loverboy, don’t fill your pockets with contraceptives.” She said simply, causing Loverboy to blush in silence.

She had given us a map to where we were going, wished us luck, and we set off.