Fallout Equestria: Chivalry

Silence permeated the dead expanse of the Equestrian Wasteland. The sort of silence that offers one time to reflect and speculate on their life. Such a thing that Westwood had plenty of time to reflect on as he flew over the current state of the land he called home. Time he needed to go over how much the world he knew had changed from the more or less peaceful land to a world wide war zone and now this. The idea was overwhelming.

Those thoughts of his home were cut from his mind when a voice sounded off in his radio, "Not the Equestria you remember is it?". A tinny voice echoed into his helmet.

Westwood immediately dove for the ground and took cover behind a ruined sky wagon with his carbine up and ready. His vision scanned both the landscape as well as his helmet's EFS to check for a possible source to the voice in his helmet, "Nox. You better not be fucking with me right now." Westwood spoke in hushed irritation while he slowly poked his head around the sky wagon to get more of a view.

A black cloud quickly formed beside the and took the rough shape of Westwood, "Don't look at me. I can’t mess with your radio." Nox replied with a gesture that looked like he was shrugging his shoulders.

"No. This isn't that voice in your head. I'm as real as you and the wasteland." The voice continued. There was a brief pause while Westwood continued to search, "You can stop trying to look for me. I'm no where close to you."

Westwood spent a few seconds longer searching the area and confirmed that the area was indeed free and clear of anything aside from a couple of radroaches scuttling about a few dozen yards from his position, "Alright then." Westwood started as his carbine was clipped back onto his armor, "Maybe you should start explaining how you managed to hack into a Shadow STG encryption." His back hugged the sky wagon's floor in the unlikely event that there was someone out there possibly tracking him with a sniper's scope.

"The encryption reset itself when you woke up. You're running an unprotected channel." The voice, regardless of being mechanical, seemed to have a matter-of-fact tone about it.

Westwood smacked his claw into the helmet. The display inside shook with a small display of static from the sudden impact which corrected itself less than a second later, "Alright. Fix the encryption when I get back to HQ." Westwood spoke under his breath as a mental note.

"So. I doubt you contacted me to tell me my encryption was disabled. Tell me what you want." Westwood spoke with his claw dropping from his face, "And while you're at it, tell me how you know everything."

There was silence for a moment, "The second part can wait, but I do need you to do something. More to prove if that really is you"

Westwood huffed and slammed himself down before a beeping directed him to check the currently established world map.

 "There is a place a few miles from where you are now. It's the old Evergreen Mills facility.” The voice explained as Westwood checked the map function on his pipbuck. The tag indeed indicated that the facility was just a few miles from his position.

“So why are you sending me out there? If you know me and the Shadow then you should know we don’t go anywhere without verified information. Speaking of. Exactly who are you?” A few button presses returned the implanted device to it’s standard positioning with a tag out in the distance to show where he was going.

There was silence for a minute, “There’s a supply bunker under the facility. It should be able to restock your friends over at that base you’re staying at for a few weeks. As for who I am, I go by Watcher.”

Words began to appear on Westwood's heads up display once again

Quest Added: Not As It Seems

Mission Parameters:  Search Evergreen Mills for supplies for Camp Pendelcolt.

Extra Parameters: Find more about Evergreen Mills Facility

An enigmatic voice with an enigmatic name giving him directions in an enigmatic way. Sounds like fun, “You better be right about all that. Because if you’re bullshitting me then I’m going to find you and show you what happens when you waste a knight’s time.”

There was a small chuckle in Watcher’s synthetic voice, “You never change.” With that the radio cut the connection with Westwood. The latter of which was attempting to back trace the location where he was receiving the signal. Whoever this Watcher character he was smart. Hundreds, if not thousands, of trace sources scattered about the wastes like the source was everywhere at once.

Westwood looked in the direction his EFS was telling him the mission objective was. Once more his wings shot open and pulled himself into the air at a low altitude. The altimeter once more appeared in his vision in the helmet’s display as he took to the air. The lines of data streamed across Westwood’s vision as he drew closer and closer to the checkpoint that Watcher had supplied for him.

Mere minutes passed and the Evergreen Mills appeared in Westwood’s vision. Instead of diving in, Westwood dropped back to the ground on the top of a hill a couple hundred yards from where the checkpoint was telling him to go. It would have been beyond stupid to just drop in the middle of some unexplored location that a mysterious voice from nowhere decided to tell someone to go to.

Westwood went prone on the rocky hill, “Visor: Disable visual aide.” He spoke as a command to his helmet. The glow his visor provided disappeared and along with everything that the visor projected into his vision. While unlikely, the glow could give him away if anyone happened to be using a scope or binoculars in his direction.

With a quick shift of his weight, Westwood threw his pack to the side. His claw dove deep into the pack and continued digging about until a small tube shaped optic was pulled out. With a few turns of a couple of knobs the optic was attached to the top of Westwood’s carbine.

The zoom that the new optic provided gave a clearer picture onto what was going on down below. A few roughed up looking ponies down, strangely no pegasi, were scattered about. More than likely some sort of night watch or something. Other than that he didn’t see anything in particular that would be considered a real threat.

“Yeah, Woody. I hate to break the silence, but what exactly are we doing here?” Nox once more made himself known. Oddly enough, the shadow’s voice didn’t sound so much sarcastic as it did concerned.

Westwood sighed as he slowly picked his pack from the ground, “Because that Watcher guy said that there would be supplies down here. And I hope you saw the state our boys were at. They need anything they can get.” After slinging his pack onto his back, he slowly started to move up to the area below cautious not to make a sound or let himself be seen in his pitch black armor.

“You want me to turn on some tunes?” Nox spoke once more while Westwood kept low, “It’ll make my life more fun anyway.”

Westwood shot a look at the living shadow before rolling his eyes, “Nox. For the love of all that is holy. Shut the fuck up.” Westwood shot back silently in the slight delay his current objective was taking from his day.

        The hoofball field sized distance between Westwood’s starting point and the facility below had taken much longer than the dragon wanted it to take. If he was running at full sprint he could have made it down there in less than twenty seconds, but he’d have to keep a low profile until it was clear if these ponies would shoot him on sight or just question why he was there.

        Westwood back was now pressed into a small, makeshift shack. His eyes and ears open to the sights and sounds around as he slowly slid along the wall without making full contact. He was close enough now that he could hear some conversation with others around him.

        “So.” A masculine voice started as Westwood approached the edge of the small shack, “When do you think the bucks will be here for the pick up?” The first voice continued.

        “The fuck if I know. I’m just here to watch the little cretins until that Lonely Dog guy can drop his caps on us.” The second voice could almost be drenched in slime if the tone could say anything about him.

        The first voice corrected the second, “You mean Lone Wolf. ” This second voice seemed to have more of a dignified tone to it. Perhaps a tinge of hesitation, "I don't know what he wants them for. To be honest I don't want to know. He's got the caps, we've got the product. Whatever this Lone Wolf wants, that's his business."

        Westwood stayed motionless for a moment as he listened to the two talk. What were they talking about? Someone called himself Lone Wolf out here now? And what exactly was this buck buying.

        With a heavy sigh Westwood brought his claw up to the helmet, “Specter: Clearance authorized. Full stealth systems online.” Westwood spoke quietly as he commanded the suit.

        There were a few seconds that his visor was blank, but soon after the EFS came back online. Now text began to scroll in the center of his visior.

Voice Command Recognized.

Active Camouflage Online

Noise Dampening Systems Online

EFS Shielding Online.

Estimated Time To Spark Pack Exhaustion: 20 Minutes

After the text finished and vanished a countdown timer appeared in the corner of Westwood’s EFS which counted down from twenty  minutes. Westwood immediately rounded the corner to find where the two voices he heard were positioned.

At the bridge overhead were two bucks. One, an earth pony, had a leather battle saddle equipped with a single sniper rifle on his right side. The other, a unicorn, had several small weapons holstered all around his body ranging from automatic pistols to sawed off shotguns. Which of them was a greater hazard was up for debate, but their threat status read green on his EFS for the moment. Not a good enough reason to drop the active camouflage, but it was at least a start.

Being careful not to make any unnecessary noise, Westwood sprung himself from the corner and rushed himself from the shack to another a short ways forward to the massive factory looking building. At each stop he kept his EFS up to ensure that there were no hostile presences in front of him.

At one of the shacks, Westwood heard more voices. These ones sounding more casual and conversational than the ones at the bridge. It was half way into a conversation, but perhaps it would give him a greater understanding of what he was about to walk into if he listened more.

"Yeah. That Lone Wolf guy gives me the creeps." A female spoke with the sound of cards shuffling faintly gave the shack slightly more context as to what was going on, "Shows up covered head to toe in pre-war crap, two gryphon bodyguards and for some reason seems to have enough caps to fill a lake. I don't know what he does with the stuff, all honest I don't know if I want to know."

A warning flashed on Westwood's heads up display that four minutes had past since the activation of the stealth system. With a huff, Westwood repositioned himself so he was less likely to be seen, "Specter: disable all stealth systems."

Voice Command Recognized

Active Camouflage Offline

EFS Shielding Offline

Noise Dampening System Offline

Westwood once again flickered into existence until his black armor and scales were completely visible. The dark of the night as well, as the lack of outside light aside from spotlights out of view, kept him hidden.

"I know what you mean. Then there's that look in his eye when he picks everything up. My blood runs cold when he just glances at me. Like he's just staring through me and looking at my soul." This second voice, while effeminate, definitely had a more male tone to it, "I can only imagine what he does with them all." There was a second or two of silence, maybe for speculation, "You think he keep some sort of freaky harem going or something?"

There was a third voice. This one also male, but more like the gruff voice of a lumber pony, "Don't fucking know, don't fucking care." The sound of ,what the dragon could guess had been poker chips, hit the surface they were using, "It's out of my pay grade to know."

More sounds of chips on wood entered the shack, "Still got to wonder though. Why does he want all of them though? You don't hear of anypony making some sort of city or something like Red Eye is doing out East. After what goes on down here, you'd think it would cause some sort of shit storm and 'wasteland heroes', " those words were drenched in as much disdain and venom as one could hold, "would come out there trying to save the day or some shit like that. Not even that DJ over in Tenpony says anything about all this. And he's got eyes all over the damn wasteland."

Westwood could get something from this little conversation he was eavesdropping on. Some guy named Lone Wolf was buying something here. Judging by the harem comment, more than likely females of some sort or another. Enough for Westwood to try and get to that facility to really get down to everything going on. Especially if this was as bad as he was thinking. Now to fin-

"Hold it right there." A female voice came up from behind Westwood. The feel of something wide bored tapped the back of his head, "If you want to keep your head you'll slowly put your guns on the ground."

So much for going in and not causing a scene, "Take it easy now." Westwood spoke through the voice emitter on his helmet, "I'm not here to cause trouble." Westwood spoke as he slowly un holstered his pistol and tossed it to the ground. The carbine was also slowly removed from his belt and tossed into the dirt.

"Says the robot that's sneaking around in the middle of the night." The barrel hit Westwood on the back of the helmet again, "Didn't even know ponies made robots that could sneak around."

Westwood sighed hearing yet another pony call him a robot, "Would it help my case if I said I wasn't a robot?" He asked as he lifted his claws over his head in an act of surrender.

The female voice slowly circled around Westwood until the source of the voice was visible. A white and grey feathered gryphon in roughly put together leather armor much like the others he'd seen here stood before him. The weapon she tapped against Westwood's head appeared to be some sort of homemade single shot shotgun gripped on one claw, "So, before I pump you full of buckshot, what are you doing sneaking around here?" The gryphon asked. Oddly her presence on Westwood's EFS was still green.

Westwood slowly took a breath as the ponies that were playing cards now came out of the shack to check the commotion, "Someone told me I could pick up some supplies here. He also told me that this place was uninhabited." Westwood replied as he contemplated getting out of the situation.

The gryphon narrowed her eyes and inched herself closer to the dragon's front, "Do you honestly think that I'd believe that shit? Who'd ever tell a robot that there were supplies in a slaver camp. I bet you're just one of those wannabe heroes I hear on Pon-3's broadcast. "

Westwood watched as the green dot went red at the hostile intent. He smirked under his helmet after hearing part of the information he was looking for right then and there, "Wannabe? No."  The drake shot forward and knocked the shotgun out of her talons before a palm strike impacted straight into her forehead. While her head was popped backward he quickly grabbed the gryphon’s arm and threw the avian over his shoulder and directly to the ground at his talons. One last punch finished the movement and knocked her into unconsciousness, "I'm a Shadow."

An instant later the three onlookers rushed for weapons inside their shack. When they emerged the dragon had spontaneously vanished along with the carbine and the pistol that he had tossed onto the ground a moment before.

“What the? Where’d he go?” The gruff stallion spoke while swinging the riot shotgun around to look for the very conspicuous two legged beast covered head to talon in near robotic looking armor.

Inside the Evergreen Mills facility a blue stallion held a paint brush in his mouth. Broad strokes covered the surface of a leather canvas as he worked his magic with a classical violin melody wafting through the air.  With the melody blended a soft humming from the stallion past the paint brush.

Behind the canvas was, despite being dirtied by the wasteland, a grey coated unicorn mare that gave an almost regal appearance posed in a more suggestive manner atop of a ruined sofa. The eyes she gave the painter an almost seductive glance as he painted her.

"Absolutely beautiful. " The stallion spoke through the corner of his mouth after several more broad strokes covered his canvas, "This may be my best piece yet." He mused to himself.

The serene environment he gave himself was disrupted as the door swung open and slammed the wall it was positioned beside, "Brushstroke.  We-" A paint brush flew across the room and the paint side impacted the intruder's face and left a splotch of green paint directly between his eyes.

"Ranger." Brushstroke started as the paintbrush levitated from the ground in an emerald glow and placed itself on the easel with a form of grace, "What have I said about entering when I am busy with my work?" The stallion's voice bore no inflection of anger.

Ranger gulped and was silent for a second before speaking with a strained and worried tone, "N-never." He gulped as the words struggled their way out, "Never unless it's an emergency. "

"Indeed. So, what may I ask is the emergency? " His voice never broke the calm perception that he seemed to radiate with every move. Even without facing the buck.

"Well. We have an intruder." Ranger started though before any more could be said he was interrupted by his boss.

"We have had intruders here before and you have never thought to come to me." This time Brushstroke turned to face Ranger, "What makes this one any different? " His eyes were just as calm as his voice as he slowly approached the almost green looking buck.

"Thi-this one stands on two legs. And it looks like a robot. A mean and evil looking robot." Ranger’s heart nearly quaked behind his chest and barding.

This seemed to peak the painter's interest, "Two legs you say? And a robot? Have you been drinking again?" His question seemed condescending as he stepped up closer to the obvious underling.

Ranger gave a nod, "It looked like it was about to surrender to Freya, but it pull some kind of zebra looking move. Knocked her out and disappeared like it was some kind of ghost." He tried taking steps back to the door, but each step was returned as the painter stepped forward.

"This two legged, robotic ghost knocked out a gryphon and vanished without a trace. It sound like one of those picture books you used to read." The chuckle the painter gave was not comforting in the slightest. If anything the inflection in that chuckle almost broke into a maniacal laugh, "Now Ranger. Sound the alarm, rally the bucks and get everypony armed. As we’ve already discussed. "

"Yes boss. Whatever you say." With that Ranger ran off. The rush nearly left a cloud outline as the off green buck streamed off.

With a sigh the painter slowly walked to the combat barding in the corner of the room, "Well Miss Rose. It appears that our time has come to an end for the mean time. Perhaps when this is done we can start over." The painter threw off his smock. Two wings spread from covers and seemed to stretch in place. On his flank bore a scarred brand of a cloud and lightning bolt as he started to suit up in the more combat efficient wear.

"Such a disappointment. " The mare spoke as she slowly pulled herself from the couch, "And I thought we could genuinely finish one this time." She trotted to a different assortment of armor, this one a painted power armor splattered in intricate designs and patterns that made it different from Steel Ranger powered armor.

"Alas my sweet. Perhaps this next piece will be the one that is not interrupted by the simpletons below." Brushstroke nuzzled the mare then slipped his wings through the holes in the barding. On closer inspection the armor was almost completely covered in a multitude of blades.

The mare lifted her power armor off of the stand with the emerald glow shown earlier and latched each piece to her body until everything but her head was covered in the painted metallic plates, "Now dear. Let's end this quickly so we won't be bothered." The seductive charm nearly radiated from her voice along with the wink that came after.

"Indeed Miss Rose. I do love our times alone, " He placed a small kiss to her cheek before a missile launcher attached to one side of the battle saddle with a grenade launcher attached to the other, “but duty calls once more.”

Sirens howled through Evergreen Mills while a few dozen armed ponies and gryphons stormed through the facility. Orders were barked out in rapid succession as the mish-mash of slavers broke off into groups to find their supposed robotic intruder in their base.

"Find the mother fucker already you sacks of shit!" The front unicorn with two heavy looking pistols floating beside himself screamed at the ones following behind. He and the small posse of four other ponies following behind. They had stopped at a shack with a lantern running and the radio inside playing a western guitar number.

“You. Get in there and check it out.” The lead pony pointed his two pistols at a unicorn following behind him.

The unicorn looked from side to side only to find the ones right next to him had all shifted several steps to the right or left. All alone the unicorn gulped and drew out a shotgun from a pouch on his back.

Shaking with fear, the unicorn reached the entrance of the shack. A montra echoed under his breath, “There’s nothing to be scared of. There’s nothing to be scared of. There’s no-”

The instant that the unicorn stepped completely through the entry a series of three high pitched beeps rang out right next to the unicorn buck’s ear. The buck quickly looked to the wall where the beeping made itself known. His ears folded back, “Well shit.” A loud detonation blew the wall clean off the shack. The wall was rendered to wood and sheet metal shrapnel sprayed onto the remaining four. Two of which were impacted by the heavy shards of wood and metal.

A body emerged from behind an overturned desk and anchored his carbine to the heavier wood on the other side of the desk. Five shots rang out from the carbine. At the same time five blood spatters sprayed on the wall behind the two only for one pony to drop the the ground. The last one more or less unscatched after a nearby explosion and ambush by the heavily armored beast.

Westwood sprinted to the last survivor of the small group and slammed the last buck into the wall behind him. The survivor kicked and swung his hooves attempting to get free right until seeing the soulless yellow visor of his attacker. That was when the buck’s body fell limp. Next thing the yellow unicorn buck knew he had a pistol placed between his eyes.

“Tell me exactly where to find where you’re hiding your products and I’ll think about letting you live.” Westwood demanded as he hammered the point home with a few twists of the pistol’s barrel right underneath the horn.

“They’re in the big building over there. Biggest room with all the old machine. I swear that’s it.” His eyes were easy enough to read, that and the puddle that formed underneath the interrogated buck.

Westwood then pulled the small weapon from the unicorn’s head, “Alright. You get to live for now.” With that he holstered the pistol at his leg before winding up a punch directly at the unicorn’s horn. The impact cracked his horn and bashed his head onto the wall behind him. Two slavers unconscious and four more dead.

“It came from this way!” A shout from a crowd as both spotlights shifted their positions to where the explosive trap. One spot light was blocked, but the second managed to shine directly onto Westwood. Several ponies skid on the ground when the light finally exposed who their opponent was to everyone there.

Mouths hung slack as the much larger group saw the image of their enemy, the wreckage he left behind and the unicorn with a broken horn pinned to the wall. Their bipedal foe dropped the slaver into the puddle left behind and stared directly at them. Both sides were motionless as they stared. The dragon in contemplation on his opponents, the slavers in fear that the thing in front of them was real and not some sort of spawn of Tartarus.

Westwood reached behind him and grabbed a cylinder from his belt. He slammed it to the ground and  instantly smoke began to flood the area with a black cloud. Broken from their stupor, two ponies reached for metal apples on their barding and swiftly tossing two shining metal orbs into the smoke. Twin explosions rang out with a combination of smoke and debris to clear out the smoke left by the dragon’s device.

Rolling in response to the sudden explosion, Westwood dug his talons into the dirt to gain his bearings once again. His ears rang from the detonation as warnings began flashing on his EFS.

Warning: Armor Integrity Compromised.

Repair Armor As Soon As Possible

All Stealth Functions Disabled.

An image of a biped appeared in his EFS with red lights flashing at what exactly was damaged. The image’s chest, left leg and right arm were all flashing bright red while the head, right leg and arms all flashed with yellow. Westwood tried to run again, but fell as pain shot up his body. His body hit the ground again as he looked at his leg. A thick piece of shrapnel had managed a way past his armor and through the thick scales.

Shaking slightly, Westwood moved for his pipbuck. Several button presses and his radio link opened up on public access, “This is Black Knight requesting immediate assistance. My coordinates are Sigma 54 by Gamma 67. Evergreen Mills Facility. I’ve encountered a slave trafficking camp. I’m currently wounded, but still active. Quarry is in the main structure. Estimated thirty active hostiles. They are heavily armed.”

With that he left the connection open for a few seconds longer as he tried getting to his talons. Another quick search through his pipbuck earned his inventory sorter levitating out a syringe that the pipbuck labeled as a ‘stim-pack’.

“There’s the fucker! Fuck him up!” A more feminine voice broke through the chaos as she charged ahead. Her head twisted to show the long, jagged knife clenched in her teeth with a maddened grin stretching across her lips.

Westwood yanked the shrapnel from his scales and jammed the syringe into the hole where the wound was. Near instantly the hole started closing up and Westwood sprung himself from the ground in time to avoid getting struck by the blade. The mare’s blade sunk into the ground before she, herself, was struck by a narrow, silver blade from overhead. The blade had oddly pinned the mare’s neck directly to the ground.

“Goodness, you are a fast one.” A male voice spoke overhead.

Once Westwood was back on his talons he drew out his carbine and aimed for the voice then to the crowd moving in and firing. Pings of low caliber ammunition shook onto the parts of Westwood’s armor that were not beaten and battered by explosions and shrapnel.

“I’m not over there metal one.” The voice echoed again before another knife whistled its way towards the drake.

Westwood’s shadow shot up to his arm as he moved to shield himself from the incoming blade. This knife shattered the translucent shield and sunk deep into Westwood’s boney scales. A twinge of pain signalled exactly how deep the knife went in.

“And durable too. I haven’t had this much fun since the old days..” The voice now had a clear source as hoof steps could be heard on top of one of the shacks along with the soft sounds of flapping wings. Much heavier steps mirrored the softer ones as a set of painted power armor started making its way out of the shadows.

“Careful Mister Stroke. You get wreckless when you start playing too rough. You’ve already killed one of the troops.” The mare’s voice echoed much louder than the stallion above.

Westwood grabbed the knife from natural armor and yanked the strangely light metal from its hold. A small inspection revealed runes not unlike the ones present on his sword. Westwood shifted his footing as his eyes shot between the now present stallion, the over-sized mare on the and the group of slavers that had suddenly gone silent. They were more focussed on the stallion and mare than the dragon, some even backing up with their heads down.

“I do know Miss Rose. You can’t blame me for having a bit of fun.” With a slight flick of Brushstroke’s wings another knife flew directly to Westwood. In instantaneous reflex, Westwood threw the blade in his claw back at his male adversary. The two blades skidded beside each other enough to create sparks between them as they flew to their marks.

Brushstroke simply shifted his body and caught the knife in his teeth while Westwood caught the blade rushing at him with his claw a split second before it impacted with the visor of his helmet. Before Westwood could blink a dozen copies of the same knife were floating above in a vibrant emerald glow. The dragon jumped to the side before the blades impacted where he had just been standing. A roll brought him back to his talons as he aimed his carbine at where the pegasus had been just a second before only he and the mare were no longer in their positions.

“You simply can’t be a robot with reflexes like those.” The Brushstroke made himself known. Westwood shifted his aim and fired three shots to the top of one of the shacks. Feathers seemed to jump off the stallion as the bullets tore off segments of the shacks. The whistling of a missile signaled where the mare had disappeared to. The plume of smoke barely missed Westwood as he shifted his abdomen to avoid the explosive.

That was when he saw the trajectory and the panicked crowd of leather armored slavers. The mare didn’t care what she was shooting at as long as she was shooting at him. The missile exploded in a mass of the grounded slavers, many left mangled and mutilated by the heavy explosive. The few airborne gryphons in the cluster rocketed skyward with no acknowledgement of their grounded companions.

“If you could please stand still Mister Robot we could move on with this. My partner and I have much to do.” Rose’s voice left little to no evidence that she cared that she was shooting at her comrades. As she spoke the same emerald glow from before covered her horn as her armor automatically reloaded the next missile.

Westwood pulled out the pistol from his holster and shot upwards. The lower caliber bullets fired from Westwood’s off-hand sounded off and clanged into several of the hovering knives overhead. As the blades dropped he spotted the glow on the runes just like how Harmony and Dissonance’s runes glowed in front of the magic barrier.

Westwood dove for one of the knives on the ground while the runes were still ignited white and threw the blade directly at the power armored mare while his carbine flung behind the dragon. The blades overhead dropped from the sky when Rose’s attention was forced to change to the single blade screaming at her. As the knives dropped the light extinguished themselves, “Nice trick you’ve got.” Westwood called out as he scooped another knife from the ground and threw it overhead at the stallion.

Westwood then took off running to the massive building. His wings shot open and flapped heavily to pick himself up from the ground and out of the effective area of the explosives on Rose’s battle saddle. His carbine was tightly pulled into his grip as a white circle at his talons shot him forward and closer to the massive building of concrete and steel beams.

“Don’t you run from me you little pest!” Paint Stroke announced in a strangely calm yell. A silver knife shot past Westwood’s head with the ignited white streaking by. A small chip of the black steel followed with it as though the armor was made out of butter.

Westwood flipped in direction and aimed his carbine between his legs while keeping his balance. A steady stream of concentrated shots flew from the dragon’s barrel at the quickly dodging and weaving Brushstroke all while the other stallion continued to throw blades from the armor.

Westwood’s magazine ran dry as he approached the building. He shifted his body to completely shift his direction to the opposite direction. Another white circle appeared where his talons had stopped like a newly build platform before his body shot downwards. Westwood quickly flew towards the ground. At the last possible moment, Westwood shot his wings open which softened his landing enough to not break his legs in the impact.

“No you don’t.” Five silver blades shot down at Westwood as he recovered from the impact of his landing. Westwood shot one arm forward and projected another circle which shot him backwards towards the metal door entering the facility. His body crashed through the metal door. He rolled backwards to face the entry with his half empty pistol drawn out.

After just a second to see if the area was clear Westwood holstered the pistol. The same claw reached for one of the small pockets on his armor and slammed an orb on the entry way which stuck to the wall. The light on the orb turned green which signalled the drake’s chance to move and reload his carbine.

Westwood’s eyes scanned about the inside of the first chamber. The remains of loading equipment and conveyor belts were scattered about like a metallic graveyard. Unlike the excitement outside which still made his heart pound underneath the heavy armored plates and peppering of metal shrapnel buried.

His steps were quick, but cautious. With all of the scrap metal scrambled about and the ruined equipment, a mine or tripwire could easily be hidden and trigger some sort of trap. His claws checked for a trap at the only door in the room that lead into a long and winding hallway. Little cubby holes with decayed mattresses, aged board games and assorted trinkets decorated the many walls separated only by the steel between each cell. After a good pace he pulled his last orb from the pocket in his armor and planted it on the wall with another green dot signalling it was activated.

It was eerie how empty things seemed to be empty. No signs of life, no evidence that anyone had been living inside for centuries. Not even his EFS registered anything in front of him or behind. And the silence. The silence was deafening. If not for Westwood’s talons on the concrete floor and the noise his helmet made as breathed, he would have thought that sound did not exist as though it were some sort of pocket dimension.

It had been nearly five minutes since Westwood first entered the compound. Five minutes of nothing. Just long hallways, small work rooms with unusable materials, and heaps of garbage strewn about. In those five minutes, the dragon was reminded that his last meal was possibly a day ago with a loud growl that seemed to echo throughout the chambers of the facility.

Westwood hit the armor where his stomach was before scolding it, “You. Shut up.” He berated the organ quietly.

Nox slowly materialized behind the dragon, “Woody. You’re doing it again.” Nox stated as he hovered beside his solid mirror.

Westwood growled at the living shadow, “Not now Nox. I’ll eat when this is over with. I’ll survive a couple more hours.” He argued with Nox as he slowly pushed open a door with his off hand and his carbine raised to engage with a possibly unread threat.

Nox seemed to have crossed his shapeless arms over his chest, “And a couple more hours turns into a day, a day turns into two. At least sit down for a minute and see if there’s something to grub on here.”

Westwood shot his gaze at the counter part, “I’ll rest and eat when the mission is over and whoever they’ve got trapped in here is out. You want me to make a pinkie promise on that?” He asked as he lowered his weapon.

Nox shook his head, “No thanks. And besides, it’s hard to stick a cupcake in my eye when I don’t even have a body.” Nox snarked back and received a claw streaking through his cloudy head, “Uncalled for Woody.”

Westwood shook his head and resisted pulling the pistol out on the shadow again, “Just.” He paused to compose himself, “Just shut up.” In the corner of his vision a green dot streaking by.

Westwood shot his head up to where the dot was and started running in the same direction. Room by room, hall by hall, Westwood charged through as he followed the green dot. As he approached what was the only unopened door in the area he spotted the source. A small colt dressed in a pirate’s costume. The colt looked back at the dragon and jumped through the closed door without opening it. Shortly after, the green dot vanished.

Westwood shook his head after witnessing another hallucination like back in his first trip to Stable 44, “This better not be another trip.” Westwood stated mostly to himself before rushing up to the door. Nearly a dozen green dots formed up as he approached the last door.

One swift kick to the door knocked it off its hinges and launched it into the room. Two steps in and Westwood was frozen solid. His carbine slowly lowered as he stared at a massive cage attached to some sort of generator. Inside the cage housed possibly ten foals who barely earned their cutie marks and in the middle of them stood a single plain looking earth pony mare.

The mare had taken what defensive position she could give when the demonic looking beast kicked the door down. When he lowered his weapon and seemed to stand in shock she lowered her guard, “You aren’t here for the foals?” The mare asked almost skeptically.

Westwood shook his head before reaching up for his helmet, “Not in the way the others might guess.” Westwood stated before the hiss of air passed by the hunk of steel. Once the helmet was removed, he took in a deep breath, “It’s a lon-”

“Westwood?” The mare nearly screamed as she pulled herself to her hooves and trotted as close to the dragon as the cage would allow, “You survived? Thank Celestia.” She added in with a smile crossing her features.

Westwood stared at the mare for several seconds in bewilderment when this probably thirty or so year old female just exclaimed his name, “Um, do I know you?” He asked before looking at her eyes. The iridescent green and blue eyes. Eyes that didn’t belong to a pony and yet there they were.

The mare had her turn to be silent before looking at one of her hooves, “Oh right. You never saw me like this before.” The mare let out a small laugh before her body erupted into brilliant green flames. The coat and mane seemed to evaporate as the flames passed over her form. The flames snuffed themselves out and left behind a thick chitin, a horn, plenty of holes in her frame and a crown-like growth on her head, “It’s been a long time.”

Westwood dropped his helmet at the sight of the changeling queen, “Alata?” He asked in confusion before taking several steps towards the cage. Any further attempt to get closer to the steel frame was deterred by a strong electric buzz and a painful shock as an electric bolt jumped the wire and onto Westwood’s claw, “Thank God. I was starting to think no one made it out of there.” Westwood stated as he vigorously shook his hand to get the feeling back in the digits.

After Alata changed to her normal self the foals calmed down and even attempted inching closer to the now somewhat exposed dragon, “Mama?” One of the fillies questioned while staying somewhat behind the changeling, “Who’s the big, scary lizard?” She asked which got something a chuckle from said dragon.

Alata nuzzled against the small filly, “He’s a good friend of mine from a long time ago, little one.” She spoke in a comforting tone that Westwood was familiar with, “Don’t you worry.”

Westwood looked to the oddly silent doorway then to the front of the cage. After clipping the carbine to his armor he unsheathed the sword, “Hold tight. I’m going to cut you guys out of there.” The runes on Harmony and Dissonance began to glow again as though reacting to something in the room. Seconds later the blade ignited in black flames just as it had done in Stable 44. A few steps took him to the generator that was electrifying the cage.

Westwood lifted up the sword to cut down onto the machine before Alata’s voice rang out, “Behind you!” She shouted. Immediately after Westwood turned around with one arm up as a guard. His shadow instantly formed a shield to protect him from what was coming at him. The translucent, intangible material shattered like glass as another of the glowing blades soared through the shield and into the scales of his arm.

“Why can’t you just stay quiet you miserable insect?” Brushstroke’s voice cut in as Westwood’s shadow returned to the dragon’s base. Overhead the blue pegasus hovered close to the steel beams compromising the catwalk.

Westwood left the blade in the bony scales with his blade gripped tightly in his grasp. His eyes briefly went to the silver blade that had shattered his shield. Once more those carvings decorated the weapon, “Draconic runes?” He asked himself before grabbing the silver colored steel and ripping it out of his forearm.

"Drago whatsit now?" Brushstroke asked while slowly lowering himself to the catwalks overhead, "My emperor offered me these blades as a gift for his loyalty. I don't know where he received them. I am just glad to be a part of his plan."

Westwood dropped the blade to the ground and grabbed his pistol. The last rounds in the magazine rang out through the large room before his pistol’s slide locked back. Those bullets sparked off a now green shield. A confident grin was plastered on Brushstroke's muzzle, "Come now. You didn't think I would face you alone without my lover now did ?" Brushstroke leaned on the side railing as he watched Westwood through the transparent barrier around him.

“Well, since we’re at an impasse. How about we have ourselves a peaceful little chat?” Brushstroke stated in a voice so calm that it was almost irritating.

Westwood scanned the area to check for a glowing horn or something along the lines to find the source to the new shield around Brushstroke, “Looks like I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter now do I?”

Brushstroke let out a chuckle, “No little lizard. No you don’t.” His grin slowly shifted to a more flat expression, “Something I want to know, lizard. Why is a knight of the Order here? We’ve done nothing to fuck with you guys.” He asked as a single feather slowly ran along the lengths of various blades decorating his armored barding.

Westwood flinched hearing ‘Knight of the Order’, “I don’t know about these knights you’re talking about, but my original intention was to collect supplies. A tip I got said that this place was unoccupied.” Westwood vaguely stated as he holstered his pistol.

That made Brushstroke’s eyebrow raise, “Seriously. You bear the knight’s crest, you’re a lizard and you got one of those weird ass swords. If you think I will fall for that shit then you will be sorely disappointed.”

Westwood slowly slid Harmony and Dissonance back into its sheath. The sound of metal on metal signalled that the blade was fully encapsulated by the metallic sheath, “Sorry to disappoint. But I just woke up a couple days back from a couple centuries of sleep, barely eaten anything and now I’m finding out my home went to shit.”

Brushstroke chuckled darkly at the notion that this beast was out of his element, and probably starving, “So you have nothing to do with the order of goodie two horse-shoe knights that keep wandering this area of our humble home?”

Westwood chuckled to himself, “Maybe way back in the day. Back when I was The Dracous Warlord of Shadow.” His eyes maintained locked on the brilliant green barrier that surrounded the pegasus standing above him, “I answered your question. Only fair you answer one of mine now.”

Brushstroke sighed and waved one forehoof in a circle in front of him, “Proceeeeed.” The blue pegasus granted as he drew out the word.

Westwood crossed his arms over the black steel covering his chest, “You’re a pegasus right? Some Enclave buddies of mine gave me the rundown that your kind retreated to the clouds. What are you doing down here working for pony traffickers?”

Brushstroke almost slipped at the question, “You have affiliations with the Enclave? That’s,” He paused as he regained his posture and balance, “That’s highly unusual for those racist bastards.” In a moment of deep thought with one hoof planted on his chin he finally got to answering the actual question, “I was. But I didn’t like it up in the clouds so I stayed down here.”

Westwood arched an eye ridge at the pegasus.

“Oh fine!” Brushstroke exclaimed, “I get sent down here for a recon run. Take some pictures of how horrible things are down here and pick up my check. That’s where I thought that things were so much different than up in the cloud cover.”

Westwood tapped a talon on the steel floor while slowly scanning around for the source of the barrier around Brushstroke, “Could you elaborate on that? I’m not seeing abandoning a military unit as a not punishable offense.”

Brushstroke mockingly moved his lips with incomprehensible gibberish, “I was getting there you hasty little lizard.” He cleared his throat, “I landed on the ground and saw this place as it really was. It was beautiful in its own right. And being a natural born artist in a land of nothing but white is more torture than anything the Enclave would do. So I did the best thing I could.” A grin crossed his features, “I butchered my little squad and used the charred remains to make a charcoal drawing of the macabre beauty of the wastes.”

Westwood nearly reached for his rifle at the mere thought of what his opponent just stated. Everything in Westwood’s body wanted to rip Brushstroke’s spine out right then and there.

 “Oh calm down. I was found and was sentenced to death.” There was a loud snicker as his off-white teeth finally exposed themselves, “Of course with my father being high up in the ladder I was able to avoid getting my head chopped off and I got branded a dashite. And since I was stuck down here,  I thought that I’d get into one of the biggest industries down here. A nice perk is all the time I get to perfect my true craft.”

Westwood clenched the grip to his carbine and quickly pulled it up to fire several off the rifle bullets only for them to ping off the glowing shield. The somewhat bored look on Brushstroke’s face seemed to tell everything about the fact he was being shot at, “I see that we aren’t going to go anywhere with this. Miss Rose, if you please.” He waved one hoof and gave a theatrical bow to the dragon, “Fare the well lizard.”

The sound of rapid heavier weapons fire echoed as several large projectiles shot down from a previously invisible position. Westwood instantly pulled his shadow in front of himself and formed a much wider shield than before. The explosives detonated in a stream against the black barrier. Each impact cracked the shield like heavy duty glass whilst the dragon strained himself to keep the shield up. After several seconds of continuous explosions another blade ignited white and broke through the barrier as though it was tissue paper. With the shield gone, one last grenade impacted his armor directly in the chest.

The detonation threw Westwood backwards into the electrified cage. Sparks of electricity arched over the metallic armor. The wearer howled in pain as the electricity coursed through his body until he was finally released from the pull. His body dropped to the ground, smoke streaming from his body.

"Seriously," Rose started as her body materialized, "That thing is what our emperor is afraid of?" She huffed as she trotted on the catwalk, "I just can't see it."

Westwood's body continued to convulse while the electricity stayed coursing through his nerves, "Now, now Rose. " Brushstroke started while watching both the dragon shiver as well as the horrified expression on Alata's face, "It did last longer than the last intruder. And it seems that we touched a nerve with the insect. I'd say that it's a good day."

Alata slowly inched as close as she could to the fallen knight, "Westwood. Come on. Wake up." The shake in her voice broke past the distortion the changeling queen naturally possessed, "Please. I can’t lose anyone else." Streams of blue began rolling down the creases under her eyes.

"Stow it bug." Rose stated in a hiss.  Her grenade launcher shifted to aim at the foals, "I don't want to murder foals, but you don't seem to react to anything else." Rose's voice sounded almost bored despite having threatened to launch an explosive into the group of helpless colts and fillies.

Alata shook as the threat sunk in. Her eyes still streamed tears as she reluctantly pulled herself from the cage wall. It appeared like all hope was lost.

Westwood grunted before using one shaky claw to push himself up from the ground. He was silent aside from a few grunts of pain until he was completely standing. His arms hung limp with head drooped low.

"Look at that Miss Rose." Brushstroke alerted his partner with a grin, "It looks like our toy is still running." Slowly his mouth gripped a new blade from the armor on his chest.

Rose's muzzle contorted into a grin as she kicked the lever to reload the launcher, "Oh good. The fun isn't ove-".

The world fell silent when Westwood threw his arms back and a earth shattering roar shook the very ground he stood .The dragon opened his eyes to reveal a pupilless red glow replace his normally golden hues.

Alata quickly retreated to the young ones and and erected a shield of her own around her and the foals ,"Stay next to me, and do not move!" She ordered the little ones as she watched the beast break loose, “And close your eyes.” The foals did not have to be told to do it, the fact that the dragon let out a monstrous roar was all they needed.

        Brushstroke’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden change from the calm dragon to that of an enraged animal. Rose on the other hand had an elated grin that stretched from cheek to cheek, “Oh yes. This will be fun.”

        Westwood snarled as he crouched down like predator pouncing onto his prey. Instantly he sprung up and lept for the power armored unicorn. Translucent blades of his shadow thrust themselves from the natural gauntlets as he lept to his prey.

              The grin on Rose's face remained as she prepped the missile launcher. She slammed her teeth on the weapon's bit and a massive projectile rocketed towards the berserk dragon barreling towards her. The berserker swung one of the blades and cut through the metal explosive. The missile was cut in two with the explosion from the destroyed rocketed the dragon faster to the mare.

                Several silver knives embedded themselves into the black metal chest piece to seemingly no  while the berserker roared once again. Two quick slashes tore the catwalk apart as though the heavy steel was composed of butter. Rose dropped to the ground with an audible impact while the armor absorbed a majority of the impact.

               Overhead, the beast sunk his claws into the steel walls and watched Rose hit the ground. His fangs oozed with drool as he watched his prey with those monstrous red eyes.

               "Rose! Run away!" Brushstroke screamed while his wings furiously flapped to keep himself from falling as Rose had  just done. His teeth gripped tightly on a fresh knife and with a flick of his neck sent the new blade flying at the monster.

                Not taking heed of the new weapon flying at him, Westwood dove down at the momentarily stunned unicorn below. A green barrier formed around Rose in her last line of defense against the berserk dragon barreling at her. The two black blades impacted the shield first and shattered like glass against the barrier.

                  A look of confidence appeared for just a second when the berserker was seemingly stopped by a simple shield spell. That look vanished when eight claws sank themselves through the shield and began tearing a hole through the shield. Flashes of silver continuously pounded into the dragons back the more the dragon pulled until the shield protecting Rose shattered just as easily as the blades shattered against her last defense.

                  Two extremely sharp rows of teeth made themselves horrifyingly known as they swiftly slammed down on her throat. Blood instantly began pouring from the  wound as the light in Rose's eyes started to fade. Brushstroke stopped throwing lines of Silver at Westwood. Nearly a dozen knives sunk deep enough to draw blood from the berserker's back. No more could be thrown from the empty sheaths.

                   Westwood's talon planted itself on the armor of Rose's body as the beast pulled his head back. The sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones began to fill the room as he pulled. Blood leaked from a growing wound at her neck. The wound grew more as he pulled until one final tear ripped the mare's head from her body. Thick crimson flew from both the head and the body which clung to its murderer.

                    In the cage, Alata turned her head away from the gruesome scene. Tears streamed down her face helpless to prevent the beast from completing his grim task.

                   The berserker snapped his jaws on the freshly decapitated head and crushed Rose's skull. The process continued until the unicorn's head was reduced to nothing but blood and mush. The beast then swallowed the mush. Blood and bone coated his face as he slowly turned his head to face the stallion overhead. Immediately he snarly at the petrified Brushstroke and readied himself to pounce at his last opponent.

                       Now it was Brushstroke's turn to go on the defensive. He never stayed still for long. Each swing of Westwood's enraged claws carved deep crevices into the steel and concrete of the walls and floor of the slave chamber. Brushstroke however was not fast enough to dodge the beast forever. All it took was a minute and the berserker pinned his pegasus opponent to the ground.

                       Westwood wound one claw back ready to tear Brushstroke's head off his shoulders. Before the beast could end the  life of the Dashite slaver, Alata's voice echoed through the chamber.

"Westwood! It's over! Stop!" The dragon's claw swipe shallow. Instead of ripping the head of the slaver the sharp digit ripped Brushstroke's cheek open on both sides of his face. A howl of pain signalled that he was still alive.

Westwood's breathing grew ragged as his body finally caught up with the berserker. The pupilless red eyes slowly began to fade away and return to the golden-yellow as his rage dissipated. Suddenly his body felt weak, almost ready to give out on him.

While wailing in pain, Brushstroke glared at the dragon, "Just kill me already monster. Do it." The Dashite challenged through the tears in his cheeks. Hatred and fear glistened his eyes as tears formed.

Alata shouted in protest, "Westwood, you've done enough. Please. No more killing. " Sorrow and pity saturated her voice while her barrier dropped.

Brushstroke grinned through broken flesh, "What's the matter dragon? Going to listen to the bug ? I got nothing left. Put me out of my misery. "

Westwood closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Once again he raised his claw.

"Westwood. No. Not you too ." Alata stated as the pegasus just grinned and accepted his fate.

Westwood's claw balled up into a fist. Then slammed down onto Brushstroke's broken and beaten face. The pegasus stallion fell unconscious ,but remained breathing.

Westwood slowly stood back to his talons. Each second threatened to drop him back to the ground, but he managed to fully stand upright enough to begin pulling the daggers out of his back. Each blade dropped steadily whilst the dragon walked back to the cage, "Haven't lost my touch now have I?" Westwood asked with a pained laugh as he struggled to keep standing.

Alata took several steps to the cage door where Westwood stood, "No. No you haven't." Alata spoke to the bloodstained drake before her. Streaks of blue stained her muzzle, "You're still the same knight as you were." A small smile crossed her face.

Westwood chuckled quietly, "Glad you think so." Slowly he drew Harmony and Dissonance. With a swipe the silver and black blade slashed the wall  keeping Alata and the foals from escaping, "Take care Alata. Someone will be here soon." Westwood opened the gate with the insulated grip of the sword before turning for the exit.

Alata rushed ahead and stopped right in front of Westwood, "No. You are not going out there in your state. And especially not when I finally know you're alive."

Westwood walked slowly around the changeling queen, "I'm sorry Alata. " Westwood started with a solemn note, "If I don't head out now then they'll storm the place. You're in no position to take them on."

"Neither are you." Alata stated bluntly as Westwood passed her.

Westwood continued the slow, pained walk with a smile on his face, "But that's where we differ. I'm  a knight. I fight so other's don't have to. " The blade to Westwood's sword sparked as it ran along the ground in his pace, "You should know that."

Alata froze where she stood as he slowly walked away. No words, no thoughts. The words ran through her head endlessly as he walked to certain death.  All to protect her and the young ones.

The slog through the steel halls of Evergreen Mills took longer than before. His wounds through his armor oozed crimson drops that mixed with the blood from Brushstroke and Rose. The black nearly completely covered by clotting red.

"Woody. Take a rest. You have to." Nox stated in Westwood's head.

Westwood leaned himself onto the wall for a second. Just long enough to pull another stim-pack out and jam the needle into one of the many holes in his armor, "There's my rest." Westwood answered the shadow before proceeding again.

The wounds had started closing, but the toll was already taken on his body, "Woody. Think about this. You're done. You can hardly walk. How are you -" He was silent for just over a second , "You're just sacrificing yourself to buy time for the bug."

Westwood gave a grim nod and that was all he did as the door outside grew closer. And that was all Nox needed, "I suppose this has been a long time coming hasn't it. We've both escaped the reaper's grasp too long. Finally time to check out."

Westwood nodded again to the living shadow, "Maybe we can be forgiven for the wrong we've done. Think it's possible?" He asked before walking out the front door and was greeted by a dozen heavily armed ponies and gryphons. Each of them pointing some sort of firearm at the bloodsoaked drake, "Luna. I'll see you on the other side."

Westwood lifted his sword and readied himself for his last fight. One last mighty battle cry sounded through the battle ground before gunfire rocked the wastes.

While Westwood was prepared for death, he wasn't prepared for one of the gryphon slavers to have their heads explode in a shower of gore. Then again, the slavers weren't expecting it either.

Several more loud shots echoed through the canyon. Explosions of blood and gore decorated Evergreen Mills. The slavers attempted shooting back, but something invisible cut the few that managed to get firing positions. The last slaver had his head crushed between something hard and the ground . Judging by the imprint in the ground, some sort of reptilian tail shattered the stallion's skull.

Westwood sank the blade into the ground to keep his balance when several creatures began appearing from glimmers. Two of them stood on four legs and bore armor resembling the powered armor he was wearing. Each carried the same overall design, aesthetic pieces and even the same crest. A dragon's skull emblazoned on a black shield and two swords crossed behind the skull. The two behind the first looked like mirror images of Westwood's squad back in the day.

"Black Knight?" One of the four legged knights asked through the filter. Possibly female in the way the voice buzzed.

Westwood nodded and pointed one claw behind him, "Yes, but I'm not important right now." His eyelids started feeling heavy, "A mare and foals. They need evac."

The female turned her head and gestured to the three behind her, "Black Knight. No need to worry. They're going to be taken care of."

Westwood let a small smile form as he slowly lowered his head, "Thats. Good." His eyes slowly closed. After a second he felt his body supported by something other than the sword.

"Keep yourself together knight. You're not giving up on my watch." The female's voice slowly dulled as Westwood slowly lost consciousness.

"Luna." Westwood's voice barely made audible in his exhaustion, "I'll see you soon." With that his vision turned to black.

Update Authorized:

Level Up:

Combat Perk Authorized:  Run and gun.

When moving you receive an added accuracy boost. Helpful when dodging and speeding about with  your draconian movement spells.

Faction Status Updated

New factions discovered

United Equestrian Knight's Order: Status set to idolized.

Wasteland Slavers: Status set to vilified