Fallout Equestria: Chivalry

by Milibron212

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Anthro, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Princess Luna, Changelings, Original Character
Length: 55980

In the war,there was a faction of dragons allied to Equestria. Their commander and a small squad attempted to stop the destruction. They had failed. Their commander is all that remains of the faction. That commander is locked in cryosleep. until now

In the final days of the war, before the megaspells hit Canterlot, there was a team attempting to stop the launch of said spells. Their valiant efforts were wasted. The megaspells were destined to hit their intended targets. Nothing was stopping them.

As their act of redemption, the squad forces the leader into a stasis chamber to protect him before the world became the wasteland it was. The squad leader, Westwood, fell to sleep while his friends and his home were quenched in emerald balefire.

Over a century has passed and the chamber was found by an enclave search party searching for an ancient signal found in previously zebra claimed lands.

Anthro tag only for dragon OC. I do not own Fallout Equestria, or My Little Pony.

Tags may change as the story progresses. Cover art done by The Dark Shadow

Published 2014-03-06 15:40:04 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-17 06:07:17 UTC

Failure

It was quiet. Even with Celestia's sun risen high in the sky not a single peep could be heard. It was almost an unearthly quiet, one that made someone want to make some sort of loud and obnoxious sound just to remember that they had ears. That sound was satisfied by a loud "Hello!". The source was a zebra standing guard, "Blasted quiet. Drives me mad." The accented voice spoke as he seemed to shiver. The guard seemed alone on that ledge, the facility looked like a form of warehouse. The odd part being that this warehouse was in the middle of no where.

That quiet was once more broken. Not by a voice or animal, but by what sounded like the crunching of rocks underneath the guard, "What on N-?" He started to ask before moving toward the edge where he heard the sounds. His actions were rewarded at a black claw appeared from the railing and grabbed the guard before pulling him over and making the zebra fall several stories to the hard ground below, screaming the entire way down. Normally this would give a call to alarm, but the guards were so used to hearing such noises from the downed zebra that they didn't seem to care any longer.

The source of the claw swung himself over the railing to appear in a crouched position. Black matte armor covered the creature. The creature was a relatively small dragon with a carbine slung up behind his back and secured on a latch at his hip. The carbine showed many customized and aesthetic upgrades lining his weapon. In the dragon's right claw resided a silenced pistol, once more showing his custom work on his weaponry, which he moved side to side searching for possible targets

The view of the armored dragon showed something to be feared, a near demonic looking presence from the drake. His eyes were hidden under the yellow glow of the visor, the helmet offered avenues of escape for several grayed horns sprouting from the top and back. The dragon's armored wings showed that they could be used both for flight as well as protection. The shoulder plates seemed lined with different colored potions with hypodermic needles. Instead of lining his body with spare ammo, several long magazines had been stuck into pouches the perfect size for the dragon's custom rifle as well as extended magazines for his silenced pistol. On his left arm, under his natural armored forearm, was a prototype pipbuck made special for him and his small group surgically implanted into the softer section on the inside of his armored forearms. The pipbuck was wired into his specialized armor to set his Eyes Forward Sparkle permanently to his visor as a head up display.

The black armored and scaled drake raised up one set of claws to the side of his helmet and a garbled voice came up from the drake, "Black Knight to Lumen. Sector clear. Move up." He spoke quietly to keep himself from being noticed as he waited for the rest of his squad.

A buzz filled sound came back through the reptile's radio, "Westwood. When was the last time you saw a zebra with our comms?" The voice came out from the other end of the communications as three more dragons his size climbed over the ledge. The one whom was addressed as 'Lumen' dusted his claws off to shake the stone and mortar off.

The black scaled drake, Westwood, shook his head with a groan. The comms were cut off now that the squad was all in the vicinity, "You can never be too careful Lucian." The drake's voice spoke through the voice emitter on the front of his devilish helmet, "Squad. Stack up on the door." Westwood ordered checking his EFS for hostile activity. Red dots began filling up the compass on the bottom. He counted off the red dots all the way until he made it two twenty. Twenty hostiles in the very next room, "And what was that you said about zebras and our comms?" He asked unlatching the carbine at his side and holstering the pistol.

That was when the black scaled drake went into full commander mode, "Lucian. Breaching charge. Stat." He spoke pointing to the door leading into the facility.

Lucian grinned and grabbed a flat, square-shaped item from his right shoulder plate. Quickly, Lucian slammed the charge into the door. The rest of the squad formed up behind Westwood and Lucian on both sides of the door. A loud beep could be heard as the charge went off and blew the door off the hinges. The sound from the charge signaled a mass of bullets shooting through the new opening, "New guys apparently." Lucian joked waiting for the pause for when they had to reload.

As soon as that pause ceased, the three white dragons followed their black scaled commander. Shots began to ring out to break the few seconds of silence that it would take to reload their weapons. The reptiles speedily took to cover behind toppled tables and counters while firing onto the zebras while they were in their brief moment of weakness. By the time the opposing forces managed to reload six of the red dots were gone.

Westwood looked to his comrades then nodded his head, "Shield your eyes!" He called out before springing to his feet, a white circle forming around his claw as he picked himself up. The white circle exploded with blinding light, the zebras blinded by the brilliant light while the white scaled reptiles followed suit with a hailstorm of bullets. The red dots were gone with the initial assault, "What was that you said about them not having comms?" Westwood asked pulling the magazine from his rifle to replace it with one of the long magazines on his armor.

Lucian smirked under his helmet, "So I made one mistake. Sue me." The counterpart joked back as a response as he lowered his weapon to mimic the actions of his commander. As Lucian reloaded he found that Westwood had already progressed to the next nearest door.

Westwood was watching his EFS compass to check for hostile or friendly presences in the next room, "The room's clear. Move up." He spoke opening the door and shouldering his carbine while he scanned the room, "Flare. This is your field." He spoke seeing the terminal and taking a post to keep watch of the room through one of the doorways in the somewhat small room.

The white dragon, Flare, gave a nod as he slung up his rifle to get to the access point. The sound of keys tapping in a rhythmic pattern filled the room while the others kept guard of the area.

In the inspection of the room, the could see many power and pipelines leading out of the room from various positions throughout the room. One of the power lines leading to what looked like some sort of pod, "Hey Woody" Lucian started looking at the pod, "Isn't that the stasis pod that Flutters was helping fund with her ministry?" Lucian asked gesturing his head with the clicking continuing to echo in the room.

Westwood did a double take when he saw the stasis unit, "What the hell is that doing in here?" The shade asked grabbing the last squad member to take his place to secure his sector of fire.

Lucian shrugged his shoulders, "Tartarus if I know. I got it that Flutters gave these guys some megaspell stuff, but sharing tech too?" Lucian speculated as Westwood took to the console.

At that moment, a loud voice boomed over a PA system in the room, "I see that Nightmare Moon's attack dogs have found their way to me." The exotic accent proved that the source was zebra, "But too late." The voice continued. Immediately after, the console that the first of the white dragons had taken exploded in Flare's face. The only thing keeping the glass and shrapnel from piercing his face being the armor he wore, "You cannot cease the launch. You and the princesses will suffer as we ignite your homes in balefire"

A low rumble could be both felt and heard that soon built into a roar that sent the bipeds in the room to their knees. A feminine, automated voice echoed in the room, "Missile one has been launched. Target destination. Cloudsdale."

Westwood's eyes went wide and stumbled his way back to his feet as he rushed to the nearest window he could find. The sight of the first missile now airborne made him shudder. He failed his mission to save his new home. The Shade's roar echoed with an intensity that made him sound much larger than he was. His fist pounding into the bullet proof glass time and time again as though trying to get out.

"Preparing missile two. Target destination. Dracous." The female automated voice spoke again in the monotonous voice that only a computerized personality could generate in such a time.

That was when the zebra spoke again, "And now, I must see that you receive the same fate as your people, attack dogs of the night." The vents opened and a pink colored gas began to flood into the room. The door locks engaged around them.

Westwood's shadow ebbed up and down from the ground before the dragon lifted his arms up. His shadow jumped from the ground to form a shield around his squad. Consequently it covered the pod as well. The black drake gritted his teeth, "So not only did I fail my mission, I failed everyone." He spoke keeping his arms up to keep the pink cloud of gas off him and his squad.

The room was filled to the brim with the toxic gas, the only thing keeping the gas off them was the leader's barrier. The squad knew that they were doomed, that was when Lucian sighed, "We had a good run didn't we?" He asked partly as a joke to lighten the mood. His nature hadn't helped, the atmosphere was thick with everything that happened. Equestria was doomed because they failed.

It was a moment before anyone spoke, "Hey Westwood." Lucian started as he removed the helmet from his head, the helmet opening from a hinge in the front,  "We all know you can't keep that barrier up forever. And if the pink cloud isn't reaching us, that means its air tight. We'll all suffocate. " Lucian stated as he set the helmet on the ground, "Get in the stasis pod commander.  If anyone deserves a second chance it's you." He spoke turning to give the shade a salute, "Until then. I'm relieving you of your duty."

Westwood growled, "No. I can try to keep this thing off of us until it dissipates. I'm not leaving another squad under my care to die." He spoke trying to convince the white scaled drake.

Lucian smirked, "You know. When we first met, I didn't think you were the type to sacrifice yourself for your men. Unfortunately for you, I'm not letting you." Lucian placed a claw on Westwood's armored chest, "Not every ruler of this world has to die my king. If there's still any help for us, it's you," a similar circle Westwood summoned to blind the zebra group before appeared as the Shade was sent back and into the pod behind him.

The hard doors to the pod closed in around Westwood. The bulletproof glass closing around him before a hissing sealed him airtight in the pod. Westwood shook his head of the impact to see the pink cloud now breaking through the barrier he had established and flooding around his comrades.

The muffled tone of Lucian was the last thing he heard as the cold around him began slowing his body functions, "It's been an honor my king."

Westwood's claws slowly ran down the glass, shallow lines drawing down from the sharp edges and into the thick glass. On his EFS came a series of words.

Vitals dropping.

Commencing emergency  procedures.

Pipbuck prototype 'DRACO' erasing nonessential data.

Sending distress signal to all pipbuck users in vicinity.

That was when the message began sending out in a radius around Westwood and his new prison, "My name is Westwood. King of Dracous. If you are hearing this then I am more than likely dead and failed my mission. I can't apologize any more for my failure. If you find the origin of this message, return my remains to Dracous or the princesses. This message will repeat every five minutes or until my body is found."

That message repeated well over a century.

The ruins of the old zebra launch site showed every day of age after the mega spells rained the medical radiation over the wasteland. The pink cloud had long escaped when the building's structure began to crack leaving the bulletproof glass stained with a pink hue though still remained translucent to shadow the devilish image of the sleeping shade in his specially made power armor.

The sounds of hoofsteps finally making a sound in the ruins that had been so silent over the centuries, "What in Tartarus could possibly be in this dump?" A feminine voice spoke, her voice echoing through the desecrated rooms though had the vibration as though the voice was being filtered through a voice emitter.

"How should I know?" A second voice with the same vibration could be heard though this one was masculine, "We were just told to find the source of a distress signal. For all we know a wonderbolt got his hoof stuck under a rock or something.

The voices passed the room though stopped in front of the door, "Hold on." The female started, "We've got a yellow in this one." She spoke before stopping at the door.

The masculine voice seemed to have a smug tone, "Sounds like a job for old Ironsides." He spoke with and electrical humming coming from behind the door.

Seconds later the sound of metal on metal echoed into the building, "Don't be an idiot." The female spoke again, "You blow this door and you could probably bring the entire structure down on us. The sound seemed to be the female's hoof striking the back of the male's head, "Allow me." The more gentle sound of metal on metal came into the room before the aged and decayed locks snapped. The door fell in on itself exposing two pegasi in high-tech carapace body armor.

"Show off" the oddly smaller male, Ironsides, spoke. As though compensating for his stature, the buck had a two large weapons attached to his sides. One looking like the magical energy equivalent to a rocket launcher and the other being a magic energy minigun.

Then came the smug expression from behind the mare's, "Well maybe old Aria just knows how to trot into a room without blowing up half the building." The mare countered as the two walked in.

The two scanned the room confused about where the yellow signal came from, "Are these things busted again?" Ironsides added in to break the brief silences.

The question was answered as Aria clapped her hoof onto the back of Ironside's head, "They are working just fine. I checked them myself." She spoke in a matter of fact tone as she focused on the now pink stained pod, "Think that maybe what's giving the yellow is in here?" She continued finding the yellow mark never shifted from that spot.

Ironsides picked a hoof to his armored chin when he approached the pink pod, "If it is, then what in Tartarus is it?" He asked before wiping off the two hundred year old dust to see the head of a demon, "Celestia damn it!" He shouted aiming his weapons to the pod.

Aria jumped in front of the jumpy buck, "Cool your jets Iron!" Aria commanded which lead the buck to drop his aim, "Whatever this thing is, it's friendly. So shooting first isn't the best idea." Her gaze traveling to the pod in the translucent pink, "What the fuck happened to this place? Pink cloud?" Her quandaries falling on deaf ears.

The buck shifted to the panel next to it. The lettering and other things hidden under centuries of wear and dust. His hoof moved up and clicked the biggest key on the panel. A loud buzzing echoed through the room as the machine reactivated.

"What did you do you ignoramus?!" Aria shouted as the machine hissed.

Ironsides backed up and waved one hoof in an apologetic manner, "I touched one button. I swear that's all I did!" He returned the shout.

Inside the pod, the temperature started to rise and the transmission stopped. The being inside began to spring to life.

On the Shade's visor, a new set of lettering began dancing on the screen.

Pipbuck prototype' DRACO' re-energizing.

Warning: software out of date by one hundred thirty-five years

Receiving outside wire free update.

The screen was filled with a number of bars as the pipbuck took the information from the two arguing pegasi's power armor.

Download complete. Establishing Neurolink

Sparks woke the drake inside from his sleep with a howl of pain that linked the pipbuck with his nerves.

Link established

The two outside the pod stopped their bickering, the yellow light remained yellow as the howl broke the muffled shielding of the pod, "Holy shit!" Ironsides started once more aiming at the pod, "What makes that kind of noise other than a monster?"

Engaging 'Eyes Forward Sparkle' heads up display

Lines began to appear on the display on his visor. A compass and condition meter appeared on the bottom left side of the display, an ammo counter with the words 'dragon assault carbine' appearing in the bottom right with a bar just over that which he never seen before.

Pipbuck upgrade complete. Enjoy your new features.

Those were the last things seen before two green icons appeared in front of him.

The pod then opened leaving the dragon now exposed to the stale air of the ruins. The drake took two steps before collapsing on the ground in front of the pegasi.

Aria had to nearly pounce on Ironsides to keep the buck from doing anything stupid before the dragon still clad in his armor dropped on the ground.

"What the actual fuck is that thing?" Ironsides asked as his heart rate started to slow. His eyes focused on the drake that was but a couple heads taller than he was.

Aria, now convinced she didn't have to disengage Ironside's weapons, picked herself off the buck, "Not a clue." Her attention then went to her radio communication,  "Vertibuck Alpha Romeo niner. We've found the source of the distress signal. And send backup. This is a big one." The mare's voice was the last thing Westwood heard before his vision blacked out with the rest of his senses.

Update service recognized

Level 1

Initial traits authorized by species not recorded.

Prior Service- You retain all of your stats from before your awakening in the Equestrian wasteland, unfortunately this also keeps you from being able to increase any statistics from level ups. All S.P.E.C.I.A.L stats cannot be leveled up except for the use of armors. This also includes reading from books you have more than likely already memorized by this point.

Draconian Commander- Has access to a small set of unique spells with a species innate ability to manipulate a magic shadow. Due to your body type you are limited to a very small amount of weapons and armor.

Wake Up

Voices seemed to dully echo around Westwood. A small beeping sound could be heard amidst the chaos and confusion of the voices around him. The dragon's eyes slowly began to open finding himself still in his armor on what seemed like an operating table. His arms attempted to move only to find that he was pinned to the table from thick straps. The beeping started increasing as the dragon attempted to struggle. The voices were becoming more and more clear as the stress from the moment forced Westwood to awaken from his centuries long sleep.

"It's waking-" Parts of a voice came into focus while the dragon woke.

"I don't like-" Another voice seemed to answer the first, this one familiar in some way.

On Westwood's visor a readout began to cover his eyes

Subject stress dramatically increasing

"Aria. We have to put him back to sleep. Double the sedative. Triple it if you have to." The voice from before seemed to come from a stallion that was in the room with them trying to keep up a calm despite the fact it was only him and the mare in armor.

Stress levels critical.

Warning: Berserker protocols enacted.

All friendly units are to vacate the vicinity immediately.

On the armored mare, the warning message echoed onto her visor exactly how it appeared on Westwood's, "Doc! Get out now!" Her voice now rough. Her words fell on deaf ears as the straps keeping the dragon secured to the table snapped leaving the dragon now free, "I said get out!" The mare shouted as she bucked the doctor back enough for the lab coated stallion to escape from the beast in front of her. Only the horrified stallion had shut and locked the steel doors behind him without thinking of the mare inside that had possibly saved his life, "Well fuck you too Doc!" She shouted at the door before facing down the beast in front of her.

Pipbuck 'DRACO' auto-injecting triple dose of high strength sedative.

Berserker status removal estimated fifteen seconds

Westwood's helmet hissed at the region around where his mouth would open as the helmet matched the pressure of the world around him. His mouth shot open as a loud and deep roar echoed through the room signaling his blind rage. The hinges that were at his mouth swung open with the roar exposing the multitude of razor-sharp fangs that lined his mouth. The dragon's shadow leaped from the ground and attached to the dragon's naturally armored forearms which shot out into ethereal blades. It was then the beast began to wildly attack Aria. The dragon's wild swings carving deep gashes into the steel and slicing the equipment apart that surrounded them in the relatively small room.

It took everything for the armored mare to avoid the blades as the beast swung them around wildly in an effort to make their mark on the intended target, "How long is fifteen seconds?" The mare asked herself avoiding each swing by mere inches.Every move she made was strictly to avoid being slashed apart like the lab around them. Swipe after swipe missed the evasive pegasi until her movement backed her into a corner with the drake closing in fast, the previous swing having cut the part keeping the helmet to her head. The mare's scarlet mane flowed out from the now halved helmet and her cream colored coat was exposed to the air.

Westwood's last strike stopped just short of piercing through her skull, though had still made it into the skin between her eyes.

Stress levels stabilizing.

Berserker status lifted

Westwood's helmet closed with the dragon's mouth once more hissing as it sealed the atmosphere from his face. The dragon huffed audibly underneath the helmet as his body normalized, "What are the casualties?" The strong voice of the dragon asked through the voice emitter before the blades on his forearms seemed to fade into a liquid and meld back with his shadow.

A small trickle of blood came from where the blade and barely punctured into her skin, the line traced down her face as she shuddered, "N-" Aria started as her voice shook with her body, "None." Her voice shook with her blue eyes staring directly at the dragon's now yellow visor.

A relieved sigh came from the dragon, "Good." He spoke now dropping to one knee with his fist supporting him off the ground as his body recuperated from his berserk rage.

Aria's eyes focused on Westwood as the dragon seemed to struggle to breath, "Just what in Tartarus are you? " She asked not moving from her place in front of the drake.

Westwood reached under his helmet and undid the latches under his jaw line which dropped the mouth plate to the ground. The dragon pulled his helmet off his head to take deep breaths of fresh air, "A friendly dragon." He spoke as his breathing returned to normal.

Heavy metallic thumping could be heard from the door as well as the muffled sound of a buck hollering for what seemed to be half minute, "For fuck's sake." Aria's now irritated tone shifting from her fearful one before. Her body moved to the door and was about to open it from the panel on the side only for the door to hastily open.

The door opened with a buck springing into the room, massive magic energy weapons charged and ready to fire, "Alright beast. What did you do to Aria? Don't make Ironsides turn you to an ash pile."

Ironsides's question was answered by a solid clack as Aria's hoof struck the back of Ironsides' helmet, "Look left dumbass." She answered calmly, "I'm just fine. Barely a cut." Her tough words going with the small trickle that ran down her muzzle.

The dragon began to chuckle at the way the two interacted with one another.

Aria and Ironsides glanced to each other when they heard the dragon laughing, "So who exactly are you? We haven't exactly seen a dragon of your size in, well, ever." Aria asked with a quizzical look on her face. Ironsides remained more or less silent lest he get another hoof to the back of his head.

Westwood calmed his laughter down once he heard a question go by him, "Right. Never introduced myself have I?" The Shade spoke before clearing his throat in an attempt to stop his laughing, "Westwood. Former king of Dracous. Commander of the Shadow STG." He introduced himself offering a salute to Aria and Ironsides.

The two pegasi returned the salute, "Sergeant First Class Aria of the Grand Pegasus Enclave, sir" Answered the mare before dropping her hoof from her head.

"Corporal Ironsides." The slightly smaller buck replied before dropping the salute, "Heavy weapons specialist, sir. "

Westwood looked at the two large weapons that were mounted on his armor, "I can see that." A line played out in his head that he had to resist saying out loud despite the humor of the idea.

Aria was the next to speak, "As interesting as this conversation is, I need to get a new helmet after you chopped it in half." She spoke jutting a wing out to point at the cleanly cut helmet, "Corporal." She started causing Ironsides to jump to a position that appeared like he snapped to attention, "I'm sure the commander would like some information. Show him around. And I'm sure that Doc would like to see that the ferocious beast he brought in is sentient." Aria added in as the mare picked up the two helmet pieces up in her mouth only to walk off.

Ironsides shifted his gaze to the drake who was holding his helmet and standing, "Well then sir. Right this way." He spoke keeping to the dragon's side so he wouldn't lose his sight of the reptile.

Westwood took the walk next to Ironsides, "So. Heavy weapon specialist." He spoke trying to start a conversation during their walk, "You must have quite a story if you've got that as a stallion of your stature" Westwood started, breaking the ambient sounds around them.

Ironsides had half a mind to vaporize Westwood for the size comment, though decided against it after seeing the carnage that was the inside of the lab, "I'm strong for my size." He spoke shortly though with the new silence that occurred for a minute he added in, "When I was a trainee our camp got hit by a group of griffins that were contracted to wipe us out. I was the first one to volunteer to pick up the big guns. And by volunteer, I grabbed them after our other gunner had been downed. Nearly held them off by myself until reinforcements arrived. After that they strapped me with these babies." He tapped his wings on the large weapons mounted on his sides, "Promotions and demotions go by, I still keep the guns."

One of Westwood's eyebrows lifted up when he heard the word 'demotion'. Given the buck's somewhat trigger happy nature he could guess why, "Interesting story." He started looking at the gun metal grey surroundings while lead along, "So, where are we anyway?" He asked not seeing anything that could be an identifiable feature.

"Camp Pendlecolt." Ironsides briefly stated getting a chuckle from the dragon, "What's so funny?" He asked turning his head to the drake who had his free claw to his snout to suppress a laugh.

"Oh nothing. Inside joke." Westwood answered. His mouth mimed a few words with his head turned from Ironsides, 'still using horse puns.'

Ironsides let out a small groan, "Sure." He stopped in front of another of those doors and tapped heavily on the metal structure, "Doc!" He shouted through the door, "I got a present for you!" He continued so that the stallion from before would answer the door.

"Oh goody." The excited tone of the stallion from before the door opened to show a pegasi stallion, dressed in a lab coat, a half head taller than Ironsides with a vibrant violet coat and silver mane that hung down over his shoulders, "I do hope you managed to get a good sample from our subject." Doc spoke looking up at the dragon when he first saw the dragon's feet, and the four-inch talons each possessed. There was a brief silence as he and Westwood stared each other in the eye. Doc taking note of the yellow eyes that he could swear looked like they were glowing. Doc took a step back and lifted a hoof to the side which speedily shut and locked the door in between the two.

Westwood stood in silence for a moment before looking to Ironsides, "Is he normally this excitable?" He asked finding the awkward moment rather entertaining.

Ironsides groaned once more and beat on the iron door with his hoof again, "Open the door Doc. He's not going to eat you." The buck's tone called out as he rapped at the door for a solid minute, "If he was he would have eaten half the camp by now." He continued.

The door opened again, this time with Doc poking his head out, "Are you sure?" He asked in a meek voice looking up at the more imposing looking drake in front of him.

If not for the helmet, Ironsides would have glared at Doc, "Yes. Whatever you did in there just spooked him for a sec. And before you ask. Yes, Aria is fine. Little scratch on the forehead. That's it." He spoke shifting one hoof to the space between the armor's lenses.

Westwood shook his head, "Yeah, sorry about that. I swear I need a warning label for that." He joked with Doc as he lowered a claw in the gesture of a hoof shake, "Westwood by the way."

Doc looked at the points in Westwood's claw though mostly saw the opposable claw that must have made things hundreds of times easier for him to grab and move, "A-" He gulped lifting one of his hooves to meet with the dragon's claw, "Doctorate. Though everypony calls me Doc." He spoke trying his hardest not to sound nervous despite the monstrous scene he witnessed only a moment or two ago.

Westwood shook Doc's hoof then looked into Doc's room, "I'm not going to eat you if that's what you're thinking." He showed a grin that unintentionally showed his fangs as he let go of the nervous pony's hoof.

A nervous chuckle came from Doc, "Of course." He stated not realizing that the dragon released him until several seconds after he saw the drake's free hand not carrying his own hoof any longer, "Anyway. I'm sure that you'll have a lot of questions." Doc started as though he was keeping himself from saying much more. It wasn't anything new to the dragon.

Westwood nodded to Doc, "True. Though before anything. I'm feeling a tad bit naked." He stated patting the holster then the clip attachment that went to his carbine both of which were permanently attached to his armor, "If you catch my drift."

That was when Ironsides made a sound of clearing his throat, of course with the voice emitter set in it sounded like a bizarre set of coughing, "Your weapons and ammunition are in the armory. Despite our Eyes Forward Sparkle saying you were friendly, we took them for safety."

Westwood rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Yeah. Stuff you do for unidentified ponies, or in my case reptiles. I know about that stuff. Just not used to being unidentified." The dragon then turned for the door, "Lead the way corporal." The drake's claw gestured for the armored buck to proceed.

With that, the heavily armed pegasi and the draconian commander made their short trek for both the armory and the firing range.

"That's exactly how it happened." The irritated tone of Aria spoke as she shoved the two halves of her helmet on the counter to the bored looking pegasi behind the armorer's cage, "The thing we picked up woke up in a rage, wrecked the lab and cut my helmet in half. You can march your sorry ass to the lab to see for yourself." Her voice now raised as she slammed her hoof to the counter.

The pegasi behind the cage let out a sigh, "Unless you have verifiable proof that such an unusual thing happened. I can't and won't make any special requests for damaged equipment. If you want to fill out a requisition form for a minor dock in pay we can arrange for the form to be brought up from headquarters in a couple of weeks or so. Until then you have to make a modification to your battle saddle so you can do your missions. Just mind your head." The younger mare spoke with a bored monotone

Aria growled, "I'm your superior noncommissioned officer. I am giving you an order to get me that Luna damned helmet." Her voice now taking a commanding tone.

The tone did not have any real effect on the armorer, "I've heard that so many times that I might as well start a counting gag every time it happens." She started now pulling out an old magazine with the title 'Playcolt Magazine', "And the battalion commander gave me all overriding orders that instructed me that anyone playing the rank card are disregarded. If you have a problem with it then take it up the chain of command." The mare flipped pages in the magazine, "Have a nice day."

Aria huffed then threw the two halves of her helmet over the counter, "Then shove it up your tail hole!" Aria shouted at the armorer as the helmet halves clattered about on the ground.

Right as Aria approached the door, the door opened up with the Westwood and Ironsides both standing there in front of her. Aria's face lit up with a grin, "Just in time." Her voice now elated by the dragon's presence, "Oh Phenom." Her voice shifting an octave as though she was starting to sing, "You know that proof I was talking about? Look over your porn and take a look at the heavy hunk of scales here."

The armorer, now exposed as Phenom, shifted her eyes over her magazine and dropping the papers in a heap on the ground, "Dragon?" She asked with a small, nervous laugh, "A small-sized dragon." There was a pause as the mare's eyes now shifted into what was, uncharacteristically, an enthusiastic tone, "A dragon, full-grown, that's barely two heads taller than an average pony." If it wasn't for the cage keeping the two of them separated she would have likely jumped the counter to pounce on the drake.

Westwood looked around then to the armorer, "Me?" He asked jabbing his opposable claw into the armor into his chest though it was somewhat sarcastic seeing he was likely the only dragon on the entire base.

Phenom jumped from behind the desk and disappeared for a moment. A buzzing sound echoed into the room before what looked like a wall opened up with the mare shooting out from the now open wall. The way she bounced around seemingly studying the dragon reminded him of Pinkie Pie when they had first met before the war, "Oh my Celestia!' Her excited tone seemed to come from everywhere at once as she sped around the biped, "How do you stand? How does your armor work? Do you have any archanotech?Are you full-grown? Do-"

Her rapid fire questions and dashing movements stopped when Westwood dropped one claw down and caught the formerly bored mare, who had suddenly burst into a massive surge of energy, with his claw placed in a way not to hurt the mare, "One question at a time." He spoke with a small laugh at the mare in front of him. His eyes started shifting between Phenom and Ironsides, again the buck was shorter than another mare, "And try to calm down. You suddenly look like a pony I used to know." His claw released Phenom

Phenom let an embarrassed grin creep up her muzzle, "Sorry. It's not every day that somepony ends up meeting a dragon let alone a dragon your size." Her tone maintaining the energy of her new status, "We don't even get many new pegasi here." Her voice slowed enough so that she didn't sound like she was on nitrous oxide though still had a lot more energy than when she was behind the cage.

Westwood chuckle in response, "I understand perfectly." He spoke then looked for a chair outside of the one behind the cage, "Is it alright if we take a seat? Sounds like I might be answering a lot of questions." He added in as he moved to another counter and leaned up against it.

Aria tapped her armored hoof on the metal floor, "So can I get a new helmet now?" She asked Phenom while the other mare was caught up dealing with the newcomer to the base.

"Yeah sure. Whatever." Phenom answered with no hesitation between the last word Aria said to her and Phenom's first word.

Aria looked up at the dragon then winked at him before walking into the space where the wall opened up to get her replacement helmet as well as the dragon's armaments whilst she was behind the counter.

Phenom was having a hard time keeping herself steady standing before the drake, "So many questions." She started as though her brain was trying to concentrate on a single question for the black scaled drake, "Just what kind of dragon are you? I don't think anypony has seen one quite like you. Or if they have, it's been ages."

Westwood shrugged his shoulders, "What kind?" He started moving a claw to the underside of his snout, "A race called Holy Dragons, pretentious I know, called me Shade. Used to be an insult. Imagine their surprise when I ended up taking the throne." The dragon spoke with a snicker.

Phenom looked like she could barely contain her excitement though Ironside's mood was hard to determine through the multifaceted  goggles on his helmet. Either he was bored or the mare's questions were mildly annoying to him.

"A Shade? I can't say I've heard or read anything about a race called Shades." Phenom stated inquisitively while looking at the black scaling that his legs, tail possessed and a segment of his arm possessed, "Though it makes sense seeing the black scales." She continued earning another chuckle from who was identified as a Shade.

"Oh, the black scales aren't the reason I was called a Shade." Westwood's shadow seemed to bubble up from the ground he stood on underneath the artificial light, "This was." With those last words, a segment of his shadow jumped from the ground before Westwood grabbed it. The shadow near instantly formed itself into solid matter into the shape of a military styled combat knife that he flipped through his finger-like claws once it took a solid form and weight, "My species had magic shadows. I say had because I'm the only one left." At this point he was more stalling for time while Aria was getting his and her equipment.

Phenom's interest was peaked as evidenced by the look on her face, "Wow. I thought dragons could only breathe fire and do very basic magic." Her eyes jumping to the black steel knife that had materialized from an intangible source like a shadow, "But magic shadows." Her words featuring a tone of wonder that was lacking before the drake wandered into the armory, "Dragons are such fascinating creatures."

Westwood shrugged his armored shoulders, "That's the trade off. Shades can't breathe fire. We're warm blooded to make up for that fact though. Maybe another time I can show some magic me and the Holy could do. For now." He looked to see Aria had grabbed his rifle with her teeth and a new helmet that was slightly slipped onto her head. By now the knife he created turned into black smoke before dropping to the ground with the rest of his shadow, "I need to get over to the firing range. You think I could get my pistol and ammo?" He asked seeing that he was lacking in bullets for his personally crafted weaponry.

Aria had slipped out of view by the time Phenom had managed to turn around, "No problem Sir Dragon. I'll get them out right away." Phenom interjected with a small squeak with her last word. To be honest it was kind of cute.

Westwood shook his head, "No, no. Just call me Westwood." He stated thinking the term 'Sir Dragon' was a little more than he was comfortable with even when he was classified as a ruler in his own right.

A voice came from behind the counter now that the wall was closed up once again, "Alright then Mister Westwood." The voice was accompanied by the noises of metal scuffing against more metal along with clanking sounds. The mare was once more at slight window behind the armorer's cage. The pistol appearing on the counter first with the magazines for the side arm and rifle soon coming up after, "No need to sign Mister Westwood. The're yours anyway." Her tone still keeping its perky quality that had only appeared when the reptile graced her with his presence.

Westwood had already gotten to the window by the time Phenom appeared behind the small window, "Thanks." He spoke taking the pistol with the built in silencer and pulling the slide back. A nine millimeter bullet jumping from the opening. The weapon locked in place with the slide pulled back all the way. The fact peeved him that one of his weapons were not unloaded before stored, but the mare was in too good a mood for him to start going officer mode and scream down her throat, "Future note. Make sure that the weapons are unloaded before you put them away. Never know when something might happen and it shoots off." Westwood stated picking the bullet off the ground and checking the magazines for his side arm to place the bullet in the magazine that was not full.

Phenom let a nervous smile cross her muzzle, "Sorry about that. New weapon protocols. Since we've never seen your rifle and pistol  type before we were instructed not to do anything that could possibly shoot it."

Westwood slipped the pistol into the holster strapped to his leg, "Alright. I suppose I can forgive you this time." He chuckled before placing each pistol magazine into the pouches on the top of his chest armor and the rifle magazines into the pouches closer to his stomach, "See you later." He said to the excitable mare before putting his helmet on. The yellow lights on the visor flashed on for a second as the system connected to the pipbuck once more underneath the massive armored, almost bone looking, scales on his forearms.

Phenom didn't want to see the dragon leave, but at the same time she was sure he had something to do, "Come by again sometime. I'm not done asking questions." She called to the dragon that was now leaving the armory. It was at that moment that she looked around to see that Aria and Ironsides were both gone as well, "What? Where did they end up?" She spotted that the dragon's rifle was gone despite the fact that she had only given the drake his pistol, "Damn it Aria!" She shouted realizing that she had gotten duped while she was distracted with the newcomer.

Aria began to laugh now that the carbine that she had been carrying was out of her mouth, "I wish I could have seen her face." Her tone showing a great amount of amusement while the dragon and smaller buck walked on either side.

Westwood was snickering after hearing the loud shouting from Phenom after his and the other mare's conversation, "I'm sure it would have been hilarious." He added in clipping the front of the carbine to the armor at his waist line and wrapping the sling around his neck.

Ironsides however didn't share in that humor, "You two do realize that you two probably got her pay docked and possibly demoted right?" the buck that was more or less silent during the exchange happening before interjected.

Westwood looked to the buck, "I don't think so. For one, the only thing taken from the armory was a helmet that needed to be replaced. And judging from the yelling I heard, the helmet that needed to be replaced is already back there. My rifle and ammo was already mine to begin with. So no harm done." He explained to Ironsides.

A brief pause that left the hall silent aside from the dull thumping of the pads on Westwood's talons and clacking of the two armored pegasi at the side. The statement from Westwood must have said something to Ironsides since he didn't have a retort about the matter. Their silence was broken from the sound of a door opening accompanied by the sounds of firearms of both the physical projectile and magical fire.

"And here we are." The tone of the buck spoke, the loud sounds blocked out by the noise cancellation in each of their helmets keeping the loud sounds from damaging their ears, "Camp Pendlecolt firing range." Ironsides entered with Aria and Westwood following close behind.

The range was much like how he remembered them, a large set of lanes with dividers to keep each lane defined as well as an assortment of targets set out at varied distances. Altogether there were thirty lanes of fire with only half of them being used giving the three plenty of space to shoot. Slowly the weapons fire slowed to a stop as the dragon passed. Heads turned from the other pegasi to see the oddity. The gunfire had completely ceased by the time the black scaled beast. Murmurs and whispers could be barely audible as Westwood unclipped the front end of his carbine.

Westwood took the next lane that wasn't occupied before unloading his equipment. Unlike before where he was willing to talk, it was like the voices around him were nothing but dull sounds. The long magazines were stacked one by one on the bench he needed to bend down slightly to complete his actions. All but one of the full magazines that were full were set on the bench, the last one remained in the pouch. The last magazine was loaded into the carbine before pulling the charging handle back. That was when more words appeared in lines on Westwood's heads up display. The world slowed to a crawl as the letters scrawled over the screen.

Initiating S.A.T.S targeting spell initial activation.

You recently received an update to your pipbuck prototype and have now readied a weapon.

This spell is designed by Stable-Tec to assist non-combatants in efficiently combating hostiles.

The amount of targets you may select per charge varies to the weapon that the user currently has equipped.

Due to your non-pony physiology, an audio command will be necessary to initiate this spell.

Select your target to complete this tutorial and return to real time.

As instructed, Westwood made mental notes of where to shoot on the target in front of him that was the shape of a stereotypical zebra, more than likely a surviving artifact of the war. His mental notes made the highlighted segments of the target in front of him flash while the bar in the corner of his screen seemed to deplete. The parts he intentionally aimed for was a burst to the head that was labeled as sixty-seven percent, the right foreleg that was labeled for eighty-nine percent then the torso that was labeled as ninety-five percent. It was then that his carbine fired in unconscious trigger pulls.

The first burst seemed to fire wildly though the next two bursts fired with near perfect accuracy. Six small holes formed on the torso and leg of the target and the brass casings falling to the floor before the world flashed back to normal. Westwood shook his head keeping his weapon facing down range, "I am not using that again." He stated glad that the spell was over and he could move freely once more. Again a stream of text invaded his visor, thankfully without the world freezing effects.

This concludes your S.A.T.S combat training.

Please enjoy the rest of your new features that your update have offered.

Features include: instant inventory management, automatic medication injections, radio and memory orb playback.

A new tutorial will be offered when each function is started.

Westwood's free palm smacked the helmet a few times expecting the text to leave his sight though they left on their own. The entire sequence broke his initial concentration.

"You aren't going to go berserk on us again are you drake?" Ironsides asked through a radio link that was force opened in Westwood's helmet. The magical minigun began charging up before a stream of bright lights shot out from his position in the next lane and into the target ahead that began to glow red hot with each shot hitting the solid target. The sound from the magical energy weapon being extremely different from the one that shot a lead projectile.

Westwood saw a symbol appear in his visor when the radio link was opened, "No. The thing that the princesses wanted me to test out is doing some weird shit I wasn't expecting." The drake looked at the pipbuck implanted into the unarmored segment under his forearm, "I wondered what the hell they gave me this for. All it had was the heads up thing and an IFF system. Or was it EFS?" He asked breaking off into a tangent only to be snapped out of it with Aria's voice in the radio link this time.

"You knew the princesses?" Aria's surprised tone breaking her concentration when she was lining up a shot herself. Her gaze would have gone straight to the drake if her lane wasn't divided by

Westwood chuckled lightly, "Is my radio frequency publicly listed in the phone book?" He asked with a joke, "We can have this talk later. I have no idea how long I've been out and I want to see if I'm still a good shot, and making some sort of spell control my aim doesn't help at all." The drake added in before taking aim again. This time he was shooting off rounds one at a time instead of bursts like it was when he was in S.A.T.S. Each shot taking their mark in both the torso and head until the magazine was empty with the bolt locked back with the empty magazine. It was then that Westwood used the zoom function on his visor to inspect the damage, a smirk crossing his helmeted face seeing that he still had impeccable aim, "Yeah. Still got it."

The magazine dropped from the carbine before the drake's claw dropped to another of the forty round magazines set on the bench. The magazine slipped straight into the magazine well with a satisfying click. His opposable claw hit the button on the side which slammed the bolt forward to load the next magazine completely. In the corner of his EFS the ammo counter shifted to a total of 40/200-5.56mm, "You guys have five-five six ammo here right?" Westwood spoke through the radio link to both Aria and Ironsides, "Otherwise I'm going to run dry real fast."

Aria's voice spoke first, "Yeah, we've got rifle rounds. Did you expect us to just be shooting magic beams at everything?" She asked somewhat sarcastic tone before a series of bolts from the plasma based rifle on her battle saddle caused a pause in her speech, "Me and Ironsides can get you resupplied once we're done here. And after that it's chow and lights out." Aria's voice went from sarcastic to conversational after the series of blasts.

Ironside's voice covered the radio as soon as Aria's was finished, "That time already? I'm starved." The voice of Ironsides stated as the magic weapons on his sides powered down.

Aria laughed off the line then reconnected, "Alright. Ironsides. Commander Westwood, you good for some chow?" Aria's weapons powered down as well as the two pegasi stepped out of their lanes.

"Yeah. Just let me clear my stuff and I'll meet you outside." The drake stated before pulling the magazine from his rifle and pulling the charging handle back to take the bullet from the chamber. The drake quickly caught the bullet in the air and place it back in its respective magazine with all the magazines being placed in the right space soon after. As Westwood packed, up the ammo counter on his display disappeared to the image of a condition meter being the object left behind, "I swear, this is turning more into a video game by the second." He muttered as he clipped the weapon back into its place.

Everything in the base was rather close together, the armory was no more than a hundred-fifty meters from the range, the science labs were near the barracks and the mess hall was at least fifty meters from the range. When he eventually got out of this place Westwood would definitely need to go airborne to get a good view on the size of the base.

Westwood had his entire helmet removed while Aria lifted the visor plate to properly eat the grub the mess sergeant was serving out. Ironsides kept the helmet on his head through the line that was formed. Idle chatter gave the mess hall a familiar feel to his previous life.

Given the dragon's size, his tray was filled slightly more than his companions as they searched for an empty place to eat. The meal today was a somewhat brown looking paste-like substance that supposedly was safe for consumption. No one had grown a second head or anything so it was somewhat safe.

"It's been a while since I've eaten something like this." Westwood started with a chuckle, "Reminds me of my lower enlisted grunt days." He took what looked like a combination of a fork and spoon with a butter knife back end to scoop up the paste.

Ironsides used his wings to finally remove his helmet from his head and set the armor on the table. The sight of the buck's face nearly made the dragon's utensil drop from his claw. Ironsides' face nearly looked half melted, his left half, "You know that battle I told you about. Never said I left it unscathed. Plasma bolt from a griffin caught my face. This is the best the medics could do to fix me up." The melted coat and skin looked like it was barely hanging onto the buck's muzzle and heavily contrasted the baby blue coat of the other side of his face that was complemented by his light gray mane and silver eyes. The look on Ironsides' not melted face showed an amused look instead of melancholy, "I figure it's for the best. Otherwise I would have all the mares all to myself." The unaltered side of his face gave a grin while the melted half remained unmoving, "No offense to you sergeant first class." The way the eye on his melted face remained wide open was kind of creepy to look at.

Aria shook her head before digging into the paste.

Westwood was impressed by Ironsides' outlook, "You remind me of a soldier I knew way back when. Guy always had a positive outlook." The idea that he was reminded of his past flashing unpleasant memories of his failure, "To break the mood," Westwood started picking up the spork-knife and lifting up the viscous paste that didn't want to react to movement like his usual slop, "What is this made out of exactly?" He asked before putting the first spoonful in his mouth to find it somewhat crunchy. At least it didn't taste horrible.

Aria was the first to answer, "Whatever the mess sergeant finds really. Rad-roach, sometimes moss,  might have tasted radscorpion once."

Westwood thought about the crunch in the paste being a cockroach and nearly gagged on the idea of eating what was in front of him. He swallowed the first spoonful then let out a held breath, "You guys must be in a rough spot if you're eating bugs." Now that Westwood knew what was in it he wasn't that shocked to get back to eating.

Ironsides shrugged, "We make do with what we get from the Enclave. We don't get resupplied as often as the thunderheads being ground operating based, but when we do it's just about a celebration."  Ironsides stated before just about diving face first into his paste.

Westwood sighed hearing about their lack of supplies on a military base...on the ground, "What do you mean on the ground?" The drake question mid-spork lift.

Ironsides lifted his muzzle from the paste. The vicious strands hanging off his muzzle trying to drip, yet not able to, "You didn't know? You must have been stuck in that pod longer than Doc thought. After the war the pegasi closed off the sky from the rest of Equestria and took to the skies. Every so often we'll send a group or two ground level, but we have to take an sterilization shower any time we go outside the base. It was Tartarus trying to drag your limp body to the sterilizer."

Once more the drake's spork dropped, "And how long ago did this happen?" He asked with a small shake at the isea he had been locked in cryogenic sleep for as long as he thought.

Ironsides didn't like the look on Westwood's face, "Nearly two hundred years ago. Didn't the zebra that locked you up tell you how long he was putting you to sleep?" He asked thinking the dragon was once zebra allied like others he heard about.

Westwood's eye twitched, "No. My squadmate never said how long. Likely he didn't know. And my squad mate was a dragon like me trying to keep the balefire from being launched." To him the room fell silent for nearly two minutes as he contemplated the idea that two centuries passed before somepony woke him up, "I think I need some fresh air." The dragon spoke pushing his tray forward and walking off.

Aria glanced at Ironsides with the death glare, "What did Doc tell you about telling him so early after he woke up?" She asked rhetorically before her armored hoof struck the back of the buck's head and slamming his face back into the paste. Aria then raced off to catch up to the drake.

Westwood picked up speed through the metal hallway, now his talons clacking against the metal floor as he searched for an exit from the base. Signs labeled' AIRLOCK' guided him out before throwing the door out open. The helmet clipped to a ring on his armor clanged against each other. The hissing sounds as the airlock pressure equalized with the outside made the dragon uncomfortable as he awaited the chance to escape from the confined halls.

The door in front of him had a green light as soon as the room was pressurized. Westwood threw the door open with explosive force as he stared out into the endless nothingness that was the result of his failure. The dragon stood stunned as he looked in every direction only to find what his previous kingdom had been when he took the throne now two hundred and twenty years ago. A wasteland.

Panicking, the dragon shot skyward. His wings working furiously as he escalated up and up. He was nearly a hundred meters in the air before his wings flapped off and on to keep him airborne. Again, all he saw was a waste. Instead of being the result of negligence from its former ruler, this was because he he failed to stop his home from being destroyed.

Westwood's breathing showed the result of his panic matched by his effort to fly up as high as he had in such a small amount of time. A thunderous, sorrow ridden roar echoed throughout the wasteland as tears streamed down his eyes and down to the waste below, "All my fault. This all happened because I couldn't stop it. Not the war, not the launch. I couldn't stop anything." His words stung himself in the heart as his altitude declined slowly.

Minutes passed by the time Westwood touched the ruined earth at his talons. His body dropped as he slammed his near bone-like armor into the ground in the rage and depression he felt about his failure. His first and only failure.

Aria stormed outside to see that the dragon had not grown into the berserk monster he showed himself as shortly before now, "Commander" her tone now trying to give a console to the dragon that now was smaller than her as he pounded the ground, "Try to calm down sir." She continued as she slowly approached the grieving dragon, "None of this is your fault. It was the Luna damned zebras and the old government. You did what you could, no one can blame you for that. " Her hoof hesitantly moved to the drake's armored shoulder trying to console the living relic.

Westwood took a claw full of dirt from the ground as he picked himself up so he was just barely shorter than Aria, "Are you trying to fix this?" He asked trying to choke back the tears, "If you are. Sign me up for any mission you got." The dragon started, a fire in his eyes to fix his home. His form of his redemption to fix everything in his extended lifetime, "I will make everything up if it kills me. No stopping, no resting. I will fix this." The dragon's golden eyes meeting with Aria's blue lighted visor, "Until I die in battle or old age. I will be sure I fix this."

Aria smiled under her carapace armored helmet, "Then buck up lizard." Her words sounded somewhat harsh, though she knew he could take it after he commented about his time as a grunt.

Westwood let a grin slowly cross his features to break the depression that was shown before, "Yes ma'am." Were the words that spoke to the mare as he got back to full stature.

Aria snickered, "Don't call me ma'am. I work for a living." Was her reply before knocking an armored hoof into Westwood's armor, "And don't forget that damned sanitation shower. You forced me out here too so you get to suffer with me."

Westwood chuckled back at Aria curling up his claw into a fist and offering to bump her hoof to his fist. The offer was accepted with a solid clang between them.

Update recognized

No experience to claim as of current

Combat perk authorized: Berserker

You are sent into an uncontrollable rage under the conditions of extreme stress or you inject yourself with a damage increasing substance such as Rage or Stampede. Can be countered by injecting yourself with stabilizing substances such as steady. This rage will last by default of one minute if not injected with sedation substances.

While under the effects of Berseker your Strength and Agility are maxed to 10 unfortunately that animalistic rage reduces Endurance, Perception and Intelligence by half.

Faction status updated

Grand Pegasus Enclave faction set to accepted.

Search and Rescue

It was strange. Just moments ago Westwood was in what he found was now the Equestrian Wasteland and now he was alone in what he thought was a pitch black room. The drake was not unfamiliar with such a scene, but he thought that it was all left behind after the final conflicts in his old life in the wartime era of Equestria's history.

"I thought you said that you would always be there for us." A voice echoed in the darkness.

Westwood shifted his body where he heard the sound, his right claw instinctually reaching for a pistol that was normally holstered onto his right leg. He found no such luck as his leg was all bare scales, "Who's out there?" He asked, his voice echoing within the pitch darkness.

"I thought you said you would be our protector." A second voice called back to Westwood in the dark. These voices were familiar to him. Voices that he knew well.

"Celestia? Luna?" He asked shifting his body in the space void of all light. Westwood's tone shuddering as he heard the voices of friends he once had.

"You lied to us." The first voice replied with what seemed like a lamp turning on overhead with the shape of Luna. Her body however was beyond any sort of repair. Bits of flesh hung off her body, ribs exposed, her head partially torn open with skull visible. Luna's exposed skull had one unblinking eye stare to the dragon in front of her, "You let us die. You killed us." Her words accusatory to the drake.

Westwood took a step back in the darkness seeing Luna in a zombie like state, "I tried. I swear. I did everything I could." His voice wavering as he stared at the former princess, "I wanted to stop it. I tried everything."

The voice from before, the voice he realized was Celestia, was now behind him, "You failed Westwood. You let Equestria die. You let your friends die. Twilight, Luna, myself, everypony is dead because of you." Fury could be felt behind those words.

Westwood turned quickly seeing the white alicorn standing a head taller than he was much in the same state of disrepair. Flesh and fur barely attached to her skeletal frame, her horn broken and one of her wings appearing to be ripped off the joint, "Please. I wanted to save you. I-" His words were interrupted by another voice.

A third lamp illuminated a small spot showing Twilight Sparkle. Half of her head appeared to have been violently ripped from her body skull and all, again flesh remained attached by mere threads of meat. The differing factor being that it appeared that a leg was brutally ripped from her body "I thought that we were friends Westwood. Why did you let us die?" Twilight questioned. Her jaw hanging loose as the body spoke in the small space of light, "We were all counting on you."

Before Westwood could speak again another light flashed on. The lights forming a rough circle now that a fourth figure was in view. The figure this time was Applejack. The orange coated mare was missing a majority of her coat which was mostly identifiable through the accent in for voice with the visage of her cutie mark being one of the few spaces on her that had fur. The rest of her was exposed muscle and organs threatening to spill from her bones, "How could ya? Ya let everything die. Where was that undying loyalty ya promised us. We're all gone and yet ya'll are left." The ghastly image of the former apple farmer spoke before another light appeared in the darkness.

"You didn't care about us. You never cared about us. I should have seen that when you never danced at the parties I invited you to." This time was the voice of Pinkie Pie. Once more the disturbing image of another of the ministry mares' distorted and destroyed bodies appeared when Westwood turned to face the next voice. The circle was growing closer as the lights shown the horrific images of his friends accusing him, blaming him for their deaths, "You were only looking out for your own self. Your country. And look at you now."

Rainbow Dash was the next to appear as the circle closed in further on the drake, "Not cool Westwood." The bloody and broken cyan pegasus, her words shot venom as she spoke, "After everything we've gone through. And you look out for just yourself. You are alive and yet we all had to be the zebra's victims. All because you couldn't stop that megaspell." Westwood's gaze shifted to the flier that had taught him to properly fly. Again the ripped and mangled body of another of his friends haunted his vision, "Did we really mean that little to you?"

A heavy thud could be heard as another light shot on, this time was the disfigured form of Rarity. The top half of her head was missing as well as her flanks, "I should have thought that a dragon would behave like a selfish beast. He only wanted to save himself. Why else would he still be breathing and yet we could not even make it to our natural lives?" The elegant tone of the pearl white mare colored by blood as the remainder of her body stood before the drake.

Westwood shook in his place between the figures that had shown themselves so far, "I know it's my fault. I tried everything. I worked as hard as I could, fast as I could. I'm sorry." His words shaking as tears dropped from his eyes. His body dropped to what he could feel was a floor in the black nothingness while his body lost all of it's strength in the presence of his deceased friends.

"Don't feel too hard on yourself. All dragons are selfish creatures. I should know." The light then turned on to the form of a decayed baby dragon, "After all. I am a dragon. You are no different from what I was when the greed came in and made me a mindless monster." The decayed and barely together baby dragon spoke with a poisonous sting to his tone, "And we all had to die because you became a selfish and greedy bastard."

Then came words that hurt worse than any venom, "I should have feared you when I first saw you." Now the form of Fluttershy appeared in the darkness. The circle was complete, he was fully enclosed by the living corpses of his former friends, "I was always afraid of dragons bigger than spike, and now I know why. You betrayed us you filthy lizard." Her tone kept the softer tone, but still held hatred.

Westwood curled up tighter as the images grew closer together, "No. I did everything I could. I swear. I tried. I wanted to save you!"

"It's too late." The circle announced in stereo to the cowering dragon in the center of the circle, "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT."

Again the world went black with an only recently heard feminine voice replacing, "Commander! Commander wake up!"

Reality flooded around the drake as he jumped from his space on the ground. His surroundings returned to the gun-metal grey supply closet that he had been unceremoniously thrown into for a place to sleep. Westwood's head jolted from side to side. The shock of waking from his nightmare drove the drake to take quick and shallow breaths.

"You doing alright? We could hear you talking in your sleep from the other side of the base." The voice from his dream came back, the voice of Aria. She was not decorated in the battle armor that he had seen her wearing previously. Instead she was completely bare, something the drake had long gotten used to with his time working with ponies and the like.

Westwood forced himself to take a deep and held that breath for a few seconds to stabilize himself, "I'm fine. Just a bit of a nightmare is all." He spoke once his breath had returned to him.

Aria gave Westwood a look that plainly stated 'I don't believe you', "You know. In the Enclave the word fine is actually an acronym. Stands for: Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. I'd say that we've got a tear out of a battle hardened dragon warrior says that plainly enough." Aria stated pointing a hoof to the space between the dragon's eyes.

Westwood moved a claw up to his face and felt the moisture of tears in the grooves of his scaled head, "Huh. Would you look at that." He stated in a deadpan trying to save face for apparently crying in his sleep.

Aria's glare showed that she was not amused by the dragon's attempt, "You're a horrible liar." She stated plainly before she pressed a hoof to the dragon's unarmored chest. The hoof landed on the ancient diagonal scar on his chest that showed the age, "I can get it if you want to keep it to yourself for now. Though the longer you wait the harder it will be to talk later." She stated once more.

Westwood had only now gotten a glimpse of the mare's cutie mark since she wasn't wearing her armor. On her flanks bore the image of a rifle, an energy lance and a ribbon connecting the two. Strange enough that she would be named something musical yet she had a mark that showed that she was possibly a combat efficient pegasus instead of a musical performer. Then again he hadn't known that many pegasi with such a talent before all this happened, "I'll talk about my problems later then. You know the gist of it already." He stated moving Aria's hoof from the scar on his chest and exposing the second one on his belly that looked much deeper than the one on his chest, this one was completely vertical.

Aria huffed then took a step back, "Understood sir." She started lifting a hoof in a salute to the dragon commander, "Also, breakfast is getting prepped up in the mess. I would imagine that a dragon would get hungry faster than us given the portion sizes."

Westwood shuddered remembering the crunchy paste that he barely had any of the day before, "Yeah. I'll get right on that" He returned the salute once he was standing upright. His attention was shifted from the dream to the idea of eating that paste and his face showed the disgust.

Aria groaned at the dragon before dropping her hoof to the metallic floor, "Trust me. I'm no more excited about this as you are." Her tone now sharing the same distaste for their so called food. Her eyes briefly scanned the two scars the drake bared before finally turning around, "I'll meet you in the mess sir." She stated before walking away from Westwood.

Westwood sighed before looking at the armor he had neatly stacked beside the selves that carried a variety of odd and end parts for machines and equipment that they likely didn't have.

He picked up the main body of his armor and stared at it for a moment as though deep in thought, "The last thing I have left of you guys. And I don't even like wearing it." He spoke to himself before slipping the heavy metal pieces in place over his upper body. Both sets of scars now hidden under the armor. Once everything was in place he looked into the dormant and dull eyes of his helmet's visor, "And once again I'm the only one alive when I should have been taken with the rest of you." He hung the helmet on the shoulder plate opposite of where the vials of brightly colored liquid were clamped onto his armor, "Just my luck isn't it?" He asked almost like he was expecting another voice to come out of the ether.

Idle chatter filled the mess hall as each pony got him or herself their morning paste filled with Celestia knows what. The barrage of new colors compared to the insect like armor coverings and monochromatic uniforms were a welcoming sight.

Ironsides had long since received his paste like meal where he waited patiently for somepony in particular. His hoof batted the tray of slop in front of him back and forth. Until the frustrated tone of a certain mare could be heard.

"Ironsides." The now obviously frustrated tone of Phenom started as she dropped her tray in front of the buck and took her place in front of the battle-scarred male, "You haven't seen Aria around have you? I've got a bone to pick with her." Her muzzle then showed the start of an evil grin, "Oh, and the major wants a word with her too. Something about making up for a stolen helmet." The snark in her tone nearly sent a chill down Ironsides' spine.

"Can't say I have." His voice straightening out more than his body as he lied, "Something about personal business in the outside." His eyes locked with Phenom whom he saw had a restrained fury in the mare's eyes.

Phenom's eye twitched at Ironsides' words, "Really now. Then I hope that she gets killed by a bloat-sprite. With a stinger in her damn eye." Her anger returned before getting into the strange crunch in the paste the mess pony was in charge of making. Her motions restrained from being driven by rage, "If she doesn't then I wait right here until she does. Or the major will get even more pissed off than he already is."

Ironsides wished that he had his helmet, one reason being that he could turn off the optics and another being to radio Aria to inform her that she was hunted by the armory recluse.

There was an awkward silence between the blue coated buck and the armory mare before more familiar voices could be heard, "Oh great. If it isn't the phenomenal bitch." The voice was from the cream coated mare herself. Aria came into view of the armory mare and plopped her tray next to Ironsides, "So what do I owe the immense displeasure to?" She asked staying near the battle-scarred buck.

Westwood followed suit and took a seat on the other side of Ironsides. The slop in his tray barely more than his new colleges.

"Well." Phenom started while tapping her hooves together, "For starters. You got an interesting request from Major Storm. Something about repayment for stealing a helmet from the armory." A wicked grin nearly stretched from one ear to the other, "And I'm going to be watching the entire exchange as he rips you apart."

Aria huffed at the armory mare, "Yeah sure. You're just going to stir in your juices like always. You do realize this is the sixth time this week you've tattled on me for something small." Aria stated glaring at the mare in front of her.

Phenom nearly growled like a dog at Aria's retort, "You brought a thing on a vertibuck that weighed nearly half a ton. The next day you go and use it as a distraction while you plunder my armory for a foreign weapon and a power armor helmet. I wouldn't call that tattling."

Aria snickered at Phenom for displaying her temper, "I wouldn't have had to do that if you had just given me a replacement helmet like I asked instead of acting like a stuck up bitch. With that the two mares began to nearly blend their words together as they argued unintelligibly at each other.

Westwood and Ironsides changed their line of sight between Aria and Phenom when they had gone through their argument, "Does this happen often?" Westwood asked leaning in next to Ironsides.

"Nearly every morning. " Came the quick reply from the blue coated buck, "And they never get less heated."

Westwood gave a nod almost wishing he had some popcorn to watch this if it came to blows. Instead he leaned over and tapped Aria on the shoulder, "Just go with it for now. If anything we can talk this over with your Major and straighten the story out." Westwood spoke once Aria and Phenom stopped arguing.

Aria huffed, "Fine, but if I have to see her while I get my flanks chewed on then there will be Tartarus to pay." Aria spoke with venom in her tone.

Phenom giggled like a naughty school filly when the dragon seemed to side with her, "Well thank you mister dragon. I'm glad one of you has some reason in you."

Westwood was somewhat scared of how she was able to switch from being a raging tyrant to acting like a filly talking to her colt friend. He went back to his paste, struggling with the texture more than the taste. The tide was calm now that he had intervened in the two mares' conflict.

After that awkward silence known as breakfast Aria, Ironsides and Westwood had arrived at Major Storm's office in the compact ground side base. Westwood tagged along as context for who was hauled back to the base. Ironsides was there primarily because he wanted to and things were not as strict ground level as they were in the sky.

"Sir. Sergeant First Class Aria reporting as ordered sir!" Her tone now displayed a professional tone that was absent in her previous interactions that the dragon was present to see. Westwood and Ironsides displayed their salutes to the slightly older stallion behind the desk.

The stallion looked at the rag-tag bunch then nodded, "At ease." He started which lead to the group dropping their salutes, "Really Sergeant. You steal a helmet from the armory? I know I'm only getting half the story here, but seriously, do you have to do everything in your power to piss Phenom off? I'm getting tired of these complaint reports she makes of you." The stallion behind the desk dressed in elaborate enclave apparel. His coat was an emerald color with eyes that matched. It was now apparent that he was being less professional about the matter, signs that he was tired of these meetings.

Aria let a grin form, "Well, I did try to get a helmet the regular route. Then she gave me the 'you have to wait for the proper form' crap that she usually does when my equipment gets busted on an operation." One of her front hooves spun in small circles further emphasizing that this was a normal routine or they knew each other. Granted the looks, they both looked like they could be similar ages.

Major Storm looked from Aria with a smirk to the dragon wasn't much taller than the rest of them, "And this was the pick up from the mission?" He asked now stepping away from his desk and approaching the dragon, "It's a pleasure to meet a survivor of the few friendly lizards back then. Major Summer Storm of the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Welcome to our humble ground base." The enclave officer greeted the black scaled drake with a salute.

Westwood saluted back to accept the greeting, "Glad to see that you guys don't see us all as enemies. I know how many of us sided against ponies way back when." Westwood replied looking to the officer in front of him.

Major Storm was silent for a moment before his voice turned inquisitive, "Are you really a half ton like the reports said? He asked figuring that they were exaggerating things just slightly.

Westwood gave a toothy grin, "More along the lines of eight-hundred pounds or so. Haven't weighed myself in close to two centuries so it might be a little heavier than that." Given the dragons small stature and the more muscled body it was hard to imagine, "My bones and muscles are incredibly dense. Makes me heavier than I look."

The explanation seemed to be enough for Storm, "Fair enough. Dragons don't follow the same rules as pony folk do." He stated then his gaze looked over the three in his office and from the look of the cot it was his room as well, "Back to business.”

His tone shifted to professional again, "For your 'theft' of an enclave armor piece you and your partner have been selected for a special mission."

Ironsides tucked one of his front hooves close to his chest in and pumped it down showing he was looking forward to the idea of heading out again.

"One of our search teams found a possibly abandoned stable fifty kilometers south of here. I normally wouldn't be concerned, but they stopped reporting back about five hours ago." The stallion's tone was somber though wasn't without hope. He moved to his desk and picked up the map that was rolled up in the corner. Summer Storm unrolled the map and showed the marking of where the stable was located, "So we need to send a search and rescue team to extract them or their bodies. And since we lost a six pony team, I'd say take our friend down to assist."

Westwood nodded, "I'm up for it. After being stuck in a tube for shy of two centuries I'm ready to rock and roll." The dragon grinned before picking up the helmet he clipped to his armor and equipped it to his head. The hiss from his helmet signalled that it was sealing itself to his head.

Storm gave a nod, "Good to hear Black Knight." The major added with his own grin. He knew who the dragon was and wasn't subtle about it.

The group would have seen the dragon blinking in confusion if not for the intimidating steel that surrounded his head shy of his horns, "I'll save the questions for after the mission." The muffled tone of the dragon spoke through the voice emitter.

Quest added. Search and rescue.

Mission parameters: Find the missing Enclave search party and return with either the individuals or their bodies.

Westwood's eye twitched seeing the notification on his display, "I swear to all that is holy. If this thing makes my life more of a game I'm going to travel in time and shove a boot up the pony in charge's ass." He stated bluntly under his breath. His voice emitter making a slight buzzing sound as he spoke.

Storm glanced up at the dragon's masked face with an eyebrow raised before adjusting his gaze to Ironsides and Aria, "Since our guest is suited up already, you two have ten minutes to get yourselves ready." Before the trio could turn to leave the major added in one more note, "And Ironsides. Try not to blow this stable up." The tone almost sounded like pleading which was returned by the baby blue buck's nervous grin. After that it was off to prepare for their excursion.

The ten minutes passed by like molasses to the drake as he waited by the exit. His eyes scanned the EFS compass to check for the two he was doing the mission with. Two green pixels formed in front of him. He glanced through the display to see the two armored pegasi following with the friendly identification, "Took you long enough. I was about to check if my pipbuck had games on it." His words, while hidden by the buzz of him emitter, gave a tone of amusement.

Aria was the first to answer, "Yeah. Tiny over here had to get some extra help mounting his guns." Her now armored hoof bumping into Ironsides shoulder.

The mare was replied with a nicker, "Not my fault my legs don't bend that way." Ironsides returned reaching back to reach to the heavy weaponry. His hoof dropped when he emphasized his point.

Westwood shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah. I see your point." The knuckle of his claw impacted the door to the air lock behind him which opened the steel door, "Enough talk. We need to get on our way." He stated before slipping through the doorway and into the airlock.

The two pegasi followed suit. The hissing as the room pressurized to the outside world echoed dully through their helmets until they were allowed to leave, "Three decontamination scrubs in one week. I have a feeling we're in for a long one." The voice of Aria could be heard through Ironsides' and Westwood's helmet radios.

Westwood smirked though unseen, "At least you've got some good prizes from those scrubs. Brought back a thought extinct species of dragon, calmed said dragon from unleashing the equivalent to a nuke on your base and now we're getting some of your friends back from a stable." That was when it struck him that the stables were abandoned, "So why would ponies want to get out of a stable if Equestria is a shit hole like this?" He asked. The door opened to the outside, the sickly grey and brown colors of the outside reminding Westwood yet again that this was not the home that he remembered.

"That's the thing. We don't know, Some ponies have theories, but for the most part we think that they just left because the stables forced them to. Maybe they sensed it was the right time to open and just opened up. But whatever the reason, they opened up." Ironsides commented before the sound of something flying overhead came into view, "I had a feeling we'd be getting a lift."

Westwood stared in awe as the vertibuck came into view and dropped down in front of their small crew. A small chuckle came up from the drake as he approached the back section of the hovercraft, "So this is what you guys use." He started reaching for a metal bar towards the ceiling of the structure only to find no such bar existed on this piece.

"Only for trips that need a large pickup like we're doing now." Aria stated as she made her way on board with Ironsides in tow, "And if we can salvage some archano-tech from the stable, why not have a vertibuck pick it up so we don't have to haul it around by unnecessary saddle bags."

It was a point that Westwood could understand even if the flight was relatively short compared to missions he had to run in and before the war. Then again his group had never carried much so it was easier to move around, "Makes sense I guess." He set himself down on the metallic floor before loading his weapons.

The pressure as the vertibuck lifted off made each of the passengers feel much heavier as it swiftly climbed.

There was a brief silence between the passengers until the radio lit up in Westwood's helmet, "Sir." The voice of Aria entered the drake's helmet, "I don't mean to pry, but the scars. Any story behind them?" Aria's hoof motioned at their dragon companion.

Westwood shrugged his shoulders since they had a few minutes to the drop zone, "Not much really. Challenged the former dragon king when he tried to send a dragon army to Canterlot. First assassination mission I did for Equestria. Scar here." He paused running one of his claw tips on the top section of his armor, "Swung a massive sword when I got distracted. Hurt like a bitch. His claw then motioned to his stomach, "This one's a through and through. Got knocked on the ground and stabbed me with that same sword. Seeing as I'm still here and there was a war you can guess how everything went from there." He stated as though the fact that he was nearly killed was a casual conversation topic, "After I ripped the old king's heart out I got the throne. Weird dragon royal thing. Tested in battle instead of hierarchy." His claws dropped to the floor when a bump could be felt that made the passengers jump slightly.

Ironsides stared in awe through the unemotional mask his helmet presented, "So you mean to say that you got cut up, got back up then took out the guy that got you? Damn, remind me not to piss you off or threaten a war on you." The buck joked with Westwood chuckling in reply.

Westwood sighed softly to get the laugh out of his system then turned his head to Aria, "And since we're on the topic of personal stuff." He started before clearing his throat, "Kind of odd that a pony with a name like Aria would have that kind of cutie mark. What's the story behind that?" He asked keeping himself balanced with the bumping of the vertibuck on the route.

Aria let out a small groan, "Just had to take a peek back there didn't you?" She answered in a smart assed question, "If you have to know, my mom wanted me to be a singer or at least have some kind of musical talent so she named me Aria. Her dreams were ripped to shreds when I enlisted myself. Music was just never my forte, pun intended. Got my mark when 'borrowed' my dad's old rifle." Her front hooves lifted up for a set of air quotes around the term borrowed, "Went out shooting and found I was really good at it.  Unfortunately I clipped somepony's wing in the process. He got better after the crash." She stated looking at Ironsides and pointing one hoof at the buck, "And that's how I met this microscopic lug. Haven't been able to get rid of him since." She joked.

Ironsides chuckled in response obviously not hurt by the joke on his size, "Oh come on. You know you love it." He returned jabbing one armored hoof into the side of Aria's body armor, "And you already know my deal." His tone shifted to Westwood even if their voices were sent to one another through radio signals, "Bet you can't guess what my cutie mark is." He stated confidently to the armored dragon.

Westwood looked at the buck for a moment then made his guess, "A wall made out of iron bricks?" He stated given that the buck's name.

Ironsides huffed at the drake, "Lucky guess."

With that the vertibuck began a rapid descent. The sensation of weightlessness flew through the internal chamber of their transport right until the sounds stopped completely. The door opened to show the depressing visage of the wasteland, the grey skies with the immense cloud cover keeping the sun from shining as brightly as it should have. It made the dragon want to get indoors so he wouldn't have to see it, "Alright. Let's get a move on." The drake stated seeing a wooden door that looked like a mine entrance in the side of a mountain. His claws unclipped his carbine from his side ready for anything, a six pony team in power armor went dark so there had to be something in there, "Stick together, if you unavoidably split from the group then radio in every five minutes to let us know you're still alive." Westwood's tone changed from the enjoyable to be around and more friendly tone to a cold and calculated tone.

Ironsides took to Westwood's right flank with Aria covering his left. Westwood placed his less dominant claw on the door. There was a brief pause before Westwood shoved the door open with his carbine aimed through the doorway. That was when they saw the massive vault door with the number '44' in paint that had flecked off the heavy steel door.

"Wait. Didn't the Major tell us that he sent a recon team in there already?" Aria asked pointing out the obvious question, "Why the hell is the door closed if somepony jumped themselves inside already?" She asked.

Westwood felt a buzzing on his arm, his gaze shifting from the massive door to the screen on his forearm. It was just now telling him that he had found vault 44, "Either your major told us a load of bull shit or whoever is in there didn't want anything getting in or out." Westwood stated once again in his cold tone before approaching the panel next to the massive door.

Ironsides looked from the door to Aria then pointed a wing at the structure, since moving a hoof in his standing position with two heavy weapons strapped to his body would cause him to tip over, "You think you can work your magic on that door?" The buck asked.

Aria would have glared daggers at her partner if not for the helmet blocking his eyes and face, "Now is not the time and place for jokes." Aria chastised Ironsides tempted to once more strike her armored hoof against his head.

Westwood was working the console silently, each movement of his less dominant claw having a beeping feedback, "I got good news and bad news." He started before two more beeps caused the door to begin to open, "The good news is that your major wasn't lying. The bad news is that this is an automated door. As soon as we're clear through that door is going to close on us." He stated before the door finally opened its way for them to enter.

Aria stared at the opening door like it was the first time that she had ever seen such a thing before though shook it off when Westwood's voice had burst into her radio, "Understood. And what's letting us get out once we've got our bucks out of there?" She asked thinking about if there should be anypony left outside to open the door once the mission was over.

Ironsides tapped one hoof on the ground impatiently, "They're not going to make a stable that nopony can get out of." He stated as though that was supposed to be common knowledge, "How is anypony going to get out of there is there's no exit console or something."

There was a brief silence as Aria and Westwood look to the buck, "By Celestia's horn, that's the most intelligent thing I've head out of that mouth of yours yet." Aria stated before moving closer to Ironsides. A satisfying clang rang through the chamber when the impact of her hoof hitting the buck's helmet again, "If there was a way out then the recon team would have used it to get out of there." Aria's annoyed tone started.

Westwood groaned looking back at the two who were clearly too caught up in their own bickering to even notice that he had walked in on his own. What clued the other two in that he was gone was the sound of the vault closing back up on them. By the time they heard the sound of the door, it was already too far closed for them to get inside, "This is Black Knight. Initiating radio check." The voice on the other end of the radio reached the two pegasi.

"Commander. All due respect, what the fuck are you doing?" Aria answered going for the console to try and open it again.

Westwood checked the load on his rifle before taking a few steps into the surprisingly well maintained steel room of the stable's entrance, "If you two are going to act up like this in the beginning of a mission I don't want to deal with it when the shit hits the fan. So until you can open that stable door on your own you're staying outside." Westwood stated in that cold tone that nearly gave shivers up Aria and Ironsides' spines, "I'll be checking in as I said. Every five minutes." He stated to the pegasi outside.

Aria slammed a hoof onto the stable door, "We're getting in there Westwood. You can count on that." She called out over the radio back to the dragon.

The drake shook his head, "Good luck with that. It's a password system, it's given to a select few individuals. I have the password because I was supposed to get in here way back when." He stated before progressing through the first door.

It was then that he felt something, like he passed through an invisible wall. He shook his head to get his mind back into clarity. His eyes looked forward into the next doorway where he saw what looked like a flowing mane and tail turning a corner, "You. Freeze!" He called out into the hall with his weapon at the ready.

As soon as the dragon turned the corner the scenery changed from the underground safe house to what looked like a garden, "What the fuck?" He stated lowering his carbine slightly as he looked about the location. His eyes glanced upwards after he saw a light seem to shoot over the ceiling. What he saw was not the ceiling of a stable, it was a night sky, "What the hell is going on?" He asked himself dropping the weapon further as he gazed at what should not have been possible.

"I'm glad you enjoy my night Westwood." Came a voice Westwood knew all too well, "But our friends are waiting for us." The dragon looked down to see the voice came from Princess Luna.

Westwood wanted to speak, he wanted to believe that what he was seeing was real, he wanted to believe that Luna had been lucky enough to survive the balefire assault. He wanted to believe this, "Luna?" He tried to ask, "How did you-" He continued looking around. That was when he found out where he was. This was the Canterlot gardens, "How did we get here?" He asked the princess.

Luna looked at the dragon oddly, "Whatever do you mean?" She asked in return, "You took a chariot to Canterlot for the annual gala."

Westwood looked down at himself. He wasn't in his power armor any longer, he was in a suit. There was only one time he ever wore a suit and he vowed never again after that, "Wait. The Gala?" He asked now realizing that he didn't have his EFS system in his vision.

The world seemed to shatter seconds later Aria's voice screeched in his ear, "Westwood. It's been five minutes. You still alive down there?" The female voice asked in the slightly distorted manner the radio offered through the armored door.

Westwood shook his head to see where he was at. Now it was the stable, steel walls and floors piled with debris, "Yeah. I'm alive." He stated looking in every direction to see where that old world was, "Just had a lapse in time." He replied on the radio before shouldering his carbine again. His EFS was back in view, the compass showing nothing around him, "Nothing found yet. Two rooms cleared." The dragon exposed to his squad outside.

Aria growled, "We'd be down there helping you if you didn't act like an ass and trip whatever it was that closed this Luna forsaken door."

Westwood felt somewhat light headed as he progressed further into the stable, "And you just displayed the reason I left you and Ironsides outside. You're screwing around too much." He stated before cutting the conversation.

The next doorway he found had a sign over it with the word 'ATRIUM' on a bright sign in bold black lettering, "This is Black Knight. I've made it to the atrium." He started while using his old call sign from his unit. What he saw when the door opened shocked him to the core. In the atrium was a mass of bones piled together with what appeared to be a bipedal beast's skeleton much like himself sitting atop of it like it was some sort of macabre throne, "You wouldn't believe it if I saw it." He spoke through the radio line, "There's a stack of bones in here. I'm kind of glad I left you out there now." He called out over the radio to Aria and Ironsides.

"Any sign of the recon team?" Aria asked wanting to see what was going on and instead had to settle for getting the layout as some sort of story told to her.

"Negative. These bones have been here for a long time. And none of them are armored." He stated getting closer to the disturbing sight with his carbine swinging from side to side as Westwood took in the entire room. Again there was no sign of a hostile or a friendly presence in the area.

That was when the throned skeleton's mouth started to move. A haunting voice spoke to the dragon, "You couldn't stop one lousy zebra could you?" The skeleton's voice echoed throughout the atrium. Slowly flesh began to float from the past rotted corpses that the skeleton sat upon, "You managed to tear my heart from my body and take my crown, but one damned zebra stopped you and caused the world to end." The flesh then began clumping together onto the bipedal skeleton. The flesh melted together onto the skeleton until it the body was fully formed. A dragon Westwood's size with bright white scales with golden strips that looked like ribs on the exterior of his body, "I feel offended now."

Westwood aimed his carbine straight at the white scaled creature in front of him, "Fuck you Luz." He started before firing six bullets through the former skeleton's head, "You would have caused this mess sooner than I would have." He stared at the ghost of his past .

The beast named Luz grinned as the bullet holes closed up and sealed themselves completely, "Oh please you worthless Shade." Luz grinned before dropping from his throne of mixed bones, "I would have never let this happen. Because those worthless ponies would have been nothing but a scorch mark on the dirt where Canterlot now rests. My species were always the superior one. You know that right? You taking the throne made us worse because it was a Shade that took it. A Shade that somehow came back from the dead and stole what was mine."

Several more bursts of fire from the dragon's carbine echoed through the room. What stopped the bullets from flying was the eventual click as the magazine currently loaded ran dry, "Just shut up you disgusting warmonger." The dragon dropped his carbine, his shadow jumped from the ground and formed a long bladed sword with solid black steel in the black scaled reptile's claw, "Your death was the best thing that could have happened to Dracous." He jumped from the ground and slashed clean through the former skeleton's neck.

The white dragon's head flew from its shoulders with a laugh, "So says the creature created by the dark lord Sombra." The flesh vanished from the skull as well as the rest of his body.

Westwood grabbed his helmet with his free hand as though something was trying to pierce through his skull. The skeleton on the top of the bone pile was now missing its skull as it flew from the mound and throne to the ground where Westwood stood once he landed back on the ground. He started at the now evidently reptilian skull that had rolled to his talons.

"Commander. Are you alright?" Aria's voice boomed in the dragon's ear, "We heard gunfire through the radio and you were mumbling something we couldn't get." The mare's tone came up once again.

Westwood shook his head to free himself of what this room did to him, "I'm fine. Something just spooked me down here." He state as the sword vanished into a cloud, the carbine being reloaded shortly after to replace the spent rounds.

Aria huffed indignantly, "You don't wasted forty bullets because something spooked you!" She shouted through the radio to the dragon on the other end of the door.

Westwood shot his head to the side with the shouting in his ear. How he wished he knew how to lock anything out of his communications. He chose to ignore the last comment to proceed into the residential zones. There was no markings to which was to male or female housing so he assumed this place was co-ed, "No sign of your recon so far." He said to Aria and Ironsides ignoring her comment about how much ammo he spent shooting at the skeleton, "I'm continuing down to the residence zones."

Those steps felt heavy for some reason, like each step he took downward was slowing him down more and more. His thoughts about the recent events broken by radio chatter, "Commander. Can you just tell me the password so we can get down there. I promise I won't shoot you when I get down there." The voice of Ironsides broke into Westwood's helmet that was mildly covered in static.

Westwood growled, "No. That's final. Right now it's personal since I was supposed to be caught up in this death trap." he stated over the radio as the haze started to cover his mind the farther he ventured into this stable. It was when the dragon reached the final step that a few green bars appeared on his EFS, "Black Knight to Aria and Ironsides. I think I found your recon team. It seems they're still alive." All that returned was a squelch of heavy static with no discernible voices, "Alright then. No updates up top. Fine by me."

Just when it was at its quietest in the stable's many hallways, the sound of a foal crying could be heard. Haphazardly, the drake rushed through the halls nearly skidding on bones scattered throughout. With the drake finally skidding to a stop and his claw tightly gripping into the steel once he arrived at the source of the crying. What he found was not a foal, it was just an empty room. Westwood gripped his helmet tightly with his free claw, "Get it together Westwood." The green bars on his EFS were gone now even though his sprint didn't even take him that far.

Static echoed into his helmet with a broken message, "M*buzz* Lord. I ca*buzz* tell y*buzz* how sorry I am. I tr*buzz* to save this st*buzz*, but I co*buzz* stop the machine."

On his heads up display a message read in the corner.

'Wireless signal received. Tracing Source'

An arrow on his compass showed him the approximate location of the signal. Sure it wasn't the current objective, but it might give a little context on how this place had gone to shit. The signal was coming from inside the room which was fortunate for him. The room was different from the others however. This room had a semi-circular desk with a single terminal in the center of the desk as well as a series of cameras in the wall behind said desk. He had wandered into an overmare office for this stable. Westwood's pipbuck began to beep when he had made his way to the desk, where he found an audio log with a jack for his pipbuck.

Downloading audio log

A bar stretched across his screen as the download completed. Once done, the audio file opened itself to play in the radio system in the drake's helmet.

"I'm sorry my lord." The elder voice of a male started now clear of static, "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I tried to save this stable, but I couldn't stop the machine. I deserve this fate. I do not know what I will do when I break like the rest. I just hope that you can forgive me for whatever happens. This is my last message. I know this will never reach you my king. It just makes me feel better to at least try to talk to you."

Audio file finished. Saving

Westwood rubbed the space between his eyes even if all he did was put small scratches on his helmet. He shifted to the seat in front of the terminal to find out more about this place. His password used in the stable door worked on the terminal 'MY HEART TO HER', "Way to go old guy." He chuckled before going through the process to read the last files.

Surprisingly there were only a few lines of dates. This stable had only been active for no more than a week before things went to hell.

Day 1: Gray Matter down in research explained that everything is working, but things feel off. Many of the ponies in here have reported seeing family that were killed in the war, some of them even having long-winded conversation with those that they knew never made it into the stable. I know there was supposed to be some sort of social experiment going on in these underground lairs, but this just doesn't seem right.

Day 2: I think that this isolated incident is more than that. Now we have a few of our surviving white dragons complaining about seeing things. Nothing about long-winded conversations, but when you see friends you know did not make it to any stable you start questioning things. Keeping things more under control to try to find out where this is all coming from.

Day 3: Those bastards. This is a new low for the ministry mares and stabletech. They planted an archano-tech device in the power core that enhances the pleasure centers in the brain. The device got an overload and is projecting old memories, things you want and dreams to see as real. I think that I might have gotten more exposure when I went to investigate myself. Got hit with some sort of spark. Now I can barely think straight. Took me nearly three hours to make this update. It hurts to think.

Day 4: It's over now. No more bad ponies, no more bad dragons. All gone. They're all gone. I saved the stable. The evil ones were cast into the darkness and I shall make their bodies into the most proper throne. Now I shall rule over the stable like a good king should.

Nothing else followed after. In just four days the elder of his peers had gone from respected ambassador and a kind old soul to a demented lizard like Luz.

"Westwood?!" A sing-song sort of voice called from outside. He saw Luna again in the doorway, "Westwood. There you are. I've looked all over for you." Goddesses this hurt. Westwood linked his pipbuck with the terminal to download the text files before he left the desk. By Celestia how he wished that this was real and Luna was indeed in front of him. He walked past the image of the alicorn, "Is this about the mega spells?" The image asked.

Westwood froze when he heard Luna mention what had been the cause of her death, "I failed and everyone. Every dragon, everypony that didn't make it to a stable. They all died because I wasn't fast enough." He was talking to this image as though she was really there, "You're gone now. I can never see you again because I couldn't stop it. My friends, my home. It's all gone. All because I couldn't stop what I promised."

Luna elegantly shifted in front of Westwood, "No. It's not your fault." She started, "This would have never happened if we had not caused that war. You fought your hardest, saved hundreds of lives, maybe thousands, during the war though your special actions. You are not to blame for our mistakes."

Westwood removed the helmet from his face, tears had welled up in his eyes as he talked to the image that he truly wanted to see, and now that image was comforting him unlike what his nightmares had told him last night, "Funny how something projected in my subconscious is more or less arguing with me." He spoke wiping his eyes with one of his free claws

Luna laughed with Westwood's comment, "Well, I could make my way into dreams. What's to say that I'm not letting myself into the land of dreams in the afterlife?" She inquired with the dragon in front of her, "I know you might want to just stay there for now, but we have to fix this. You have pegasi to save." She stated making her way to the power supply like Westwood needed. Westwood tried to reach for the princess though his claw passed through her body as though it wasn't there, "I'm sorry. But this has to end. You cannot rest properly unless you let all this go. That mare and stallion at the door are waiting for you and their friends. They can't see them unless you do this." She stated to the dragon.

There was no room to argue, he had his mission and now Luna had given him his pep talk, "Alright. Let's do this and bring everypony home."

The Luna image gave a smile to the dragon, "That's the dragon I know." She muttered as she guided him to the power station. This walk was not plagued with other images like what he saw in the atrium since his image was the one guiding him. Now it was a straight shot.

The radio in his helmet buzzed alive with Aria's screaming voice nearly taking Westwood's ear off where it hung, "Westwood you better answer my Luna damned transmission this instant before I have Ironsides blow down the door!"

Westwood moved a claw and twisted the tip into the slit that served as his ear. Seconds later he put the helmet back on, "Sorry. I tried calling in, hit a patch that wouldn't let me make or receive anything." He said to the mare on the other end, "I'm good. I found the reason why things went to shit and I'm shutting it down. I'll radio in when I find your recon team." He responded while leaving out the fact that he was walking with a ghost of his past and attacked another of those ghosts in the atrium.

There they were. The alicorn and the drake stood in front of the generator, the aura it gave off nearly made Westwood black out after the constant exposure the instant he received, "So that orb is the device Alabaster was talking about." He started while wrapping his  claw in his shadow. After reading about a spark driving his elder into an insane rampage he was going to do what he could to keep himself from suffering the same fate.

"The orb is built into to the power supply." Luna interrupted, "In order to be rid of this presence you have to destroy the generator." She stated, "I know that you can move that stable door. I've seen you move and carry heavier things than some door."

Westwood chuckled at the idea of pulling that massive cog out of its seal, "I don't know what's stranger. That you're complimenting me on my strength or that you might be a part of my mind complimenting myself." His sense of humor was back. Once more his shadow leaped from the ground to the already shadow cloaked hand, "It was nice seeing you again." He said to the alicorn near him. The shadow formed another short sword before one swing cleaved through the orb and the power supply. That was when the stable went dark.

Aria called into the radio once again without an answer, "Westwood. Answer the Celestia damn radio right now!" She shouted once again with no answer. The door to the stable was covered in burn marks now without a single bit of paint left on the blackened door. Aria had let Ironsides blast away at the door when Westwood stopped calling in and it proved once again that it was made to withstand the apocalypse.

After the long absence of any return a static filled voice that was just barely audible came in, "Sorry about the wait. Hit a rough patch and I couldn't radio in." The voice of the dragon entered both Ironsides and Aria's helmets, "And I found your boys. They might need some medical attention when we get back to base." The voice continued.

Ironsides was next to speak, "About damn time. I tried blowing the door down and everything. That door is something else."

Aria shook her head in annoyance, "We are up here waiting. The console stopped working for some reason reason though. It doesn't look like the type that would lock out like a terminal would." She started pressing buttons on the console to try and receive some sort of response.

Westwood chuckled over the radio, "Don't worry about it. I've got a solution." He stated with a voice that seemed closer despite the radio.

With that, screeching began echoing throughout the small chamber. The door started sliding back slower than before. As more of the door a sound became evident that there was something opening the door manually as impossible as that sounded. Two loud snaps could be heard from within as the door finally cleared before falling back. That was when they saw that Westwood had actually pulled the door out and even broke the automated opener, "You two going to stand there and gawk or are you going to get in here and help extract these ponies for medevac?" The tone of the dragon, while showing he exerted a lot of himself in the act, was strong.

"Yes sir!" Ironsides and Aria both exclaimed before rushing into the darkness illuminated by Westwood's and their own helmet lights.

Minutes later the six members of the recon team were extracted from the stable and loaded onto the vertibuck waiting for them outside. Due to the excess weight on board the vertibuck, Westwood volunteered himself to fly the route on his own. Two hundred years without a chance to stretch out his wings was starting to cramp them up, "You sure you'll be good out here. You know how long this flight is." Ironsides stated over the radio system.

The door to the vertibuck closed itself with the recon team accompanying Aria and Ironsides, “You know full well I’d keep that thing from lifting off if I stuck around. I’ll see you at the base.” Westwood broke the communication before watching the vertibuck start its lift off. Westwood spread his armored wings while he waited for the transport to take off.

Once it was in the proper altitude Westwood lifted himself from the ground and flew low to the ground compared to the vertibuck that had gone up much higher, “If that’s how high you flew up when you guys transported me I’ll personally beat your flight instructors to a pulp.” Westwood announced to the radio to Aria and Westwood since they were the only radio frequencies he had a lock to.

Ironsides replied first, “Relax Westwood. There’s been no sign of raider or slaver activity and this is way beyond where the Steel Rangers would go. We’re perfectly safe up here.”

Westwood looked around the area as he flew behind and under the vertibuck in the air, “I really need to teach you ponies about Murphy’s Law.” He started though his next thoughts were interrupted when he heard something a short ways from them on the ground. A stream of black smoke shot into the air from the ground, “And there it is.” He shot upwards with a white magic circle appearing over his claw. A thick spear of light shot upwards and impacted the top of the pillar of smoke. A loud explosion rocked the skies originating only a few meters from the vertibuck.

The vertibuck shook from the shockwave the when the rocket exploded, “Westwood. What in Tartarus was that?” Aria asked while she rocked in the trooper cargo.

Westwood shot upwards before igniting another white circle, “Murphy” He replied launching another spear of white magic when another rocket was fired up at them. Another detonation shook the ground while it was still in a low altitude, “Tell your pilot to get the hell out of here. I’ll deal with this. You’ve got too much cargo to be pulling any fancy fights.” He called out through the radio.

Aria growled, Westwood had a point and she couldn’t go about risking more than her and Ironsides in a firefight with ground fighters. Her radio went off though to the pilot, “Alright. This is an order. Get back to base while our dragon serves as back up. Don’t look back.” She ordered the pilot.

With that the vertibuck took off at full speed back to Camp Pendlecolt.

Westwood looked down through the cloud of smoke. He saw another set of ponies in high tech armor on the ground. These ponies he recognized as Steel Rangers from the armor designs he had seen that made him request similar armors for his forces, “Well fuck me.” He stated to himself as the smoke cleared enough to see it was not one or two, but a platoon of the power armored ponies, “Fuck me in the ass.”

More rockets were fired off which were counter measured with Westwood’s spears of white light. The sky grew heavy with smoke as each rocket grew closer and closer. Westwood couldn’t cast enough spears to keep them all down even while he shot them down with both his claws casting the ranged spell. One rocket impacted the dragon directly in the chest.

A shape dropped from the plumes of black smoke. The smoke floated away from the center before a heavy impact could be heard throughout the area. The dragon could barely move, if not for his armor he would have been bagged and tagged. Now he was barely even conscious.

The armored ponies gathered around the fallen dragon in his armor, “Did the enclave make some kind of autonomous new robot?” One asked in a feminine tone drowned out by an emitter on her helmet.

“Doubtful.” A male asked this time, “If they could then they would have made made a way to make more of their sky vehicles.” he elaborated in a more knowledgeable manner.

Westwood groaned as he curled his claws together in an attempt to get up, “I’m not a robot.” The dragon stated before his vision went out and dropped completely

Update authorized

Level Up

Survival Perk Authorized: Dense Body

You are astoundingly strong for a creature of your size. Like an ant you have the capability to lift and move objects many times your size and weight. You have demonstrated this in your display with Stable 44 and its deactivated door.

Faction Status

Grand Pegasus Enclave faction set to liked

Steel Ranger faction found. Faction status set to neutral

Gain and Loss

The night’s sky shone down on the world, the stars scattered about the sky. The night’s peaceful aura enhanced by the sound of high class orchestral music that floated in the breeze. Finally, the sight of the Canterlot Palace dominated the darkened landscape around them.

“Here we’re your majesty.” A strong, feminine voice broke the calming atmosphere.

Westwood found himself once more in a suit jacket, white undershirt and a bowtie, “Thanks.”. Slowly he shifted in his seat as though recently waking up. His index claw pulling at his collar to try and get airflow back to his lungs. Around him were the confining walls of a carriage, apparently high class and made for ponies more than likely. Westwood reached through the window instead of waiting for another to open his door then popped the door open to let himself out. His claw continued to pull on his collar without tearing into the cloth of his shirt, “Remind me, why I put this ridiculous monkey suit on again?” Westwood asked seemingly to himself.

An aged, male voice came up behind him, “Because you promised Celestia and Luna that you would make yourself presentable in front of the noble class.” The older voice spoke. The voice came from a visibly aged, white scaled dragon. This other dragon stood slightly taller than Westwood and wore his age with pride. Much like how Westwood was dressed, this elder dragon was dressed in high class manner only on his hip held the sheath of a silver blade rapier decorated with a serpentine design for the hand guard. A sophisticated weapon of a more sophisticated time.

Westwood groaned at the response, “Right. Nearly forgot about that.” He took in a deep breath before letting go of his collar to try and make himself look presentable. The lack of spines on his back made dressing like he was slightly easier. Slightly. “Alabaster?” He started while making his way up the stairway, “How do you handle these things? I swear this thing is trying to strangle me.” Westwood asked trying not to grab at his collar again.

The aged dragon, Alabaster, gave a knowledgeable chuckle, “I don’t wait until the last second to have myself sized properly.” The older of the two took the lead with his claws linked behind his back to give himself a more regal air about him.

Westwood tried not to make a sound and restrained himself from raising his voice as he walked his way behind the elder dragon, “Don’t remind me.”

Alabaster chuckled as he looked back at Westwood, “I’ll try not to.” Alabaster spoke in a sarcastic tone.

Westwood’s eye twitched hearing those words, “I thought you eventually grew out of being a smart ass.” Were words unheard by the elder or any other eavesdroppers in the area.

Before either of the two could enter, two guard ponies dressed in ceremonial solar armor halted both Westwood and Alabaster, “I’m sorry. But you will have to relinquish your weapons before you may enter. No offense, just following orders.” The gruff and experienced tone of the unicorn commanded authority. The table next to the guard had containers for relinquished items to be safely stored for transport.

Alabaster gave a nod before unlatching a buckle on his belt and slipping the leather sheath with the silver rapier, “Of course good sir.” Alabaster gave a slight bow before resting the sophisticated blade onto the table, "I do not hold any offense."

Westwood sighed before opening his coat. One by one, silver and black knives were pulled from the confines of the suit he wore until a small stack of four foot long blades were placed up on the table. The guard gave a worried look as each of the king’s weapons were stacked onto the table.

“Um. Your highness?” The guard started, a worried shake in his voice became evident from seeing the stack of blades, “Are you expecting trouble?” He asked right before two heavy looking pistols were set down next to the knives.

Westwood spread the jacket out to show he was completely unarmed from the empty holsters and sheaths that were exposed, “No. If I was expecting something I would have brought a rifle.” A grin spread on Westwood snout before finally closing his jacket again, “Don’t lose them.”

The guard then nodded before opening the doors, “Of course sir. I wouldn’t think of losing them sir.” The guard then gave a salute to both Alabaster and Westwood, “Enjoy the gala.”

Westwood returned the salute and Alabaster gave a bow to the guard before walking inside the doors.

Westwood looked about the room around him. The small group of sharply dressed aristocrats made him uncomfortable, “Is it too late to get out of here?” Westwood asked nearly having to hold one arm down in order to keep himself from yanking on his collar again.

Alabaster glanced back at Westwood, “Yes. Yes it is. Now at least try to enjoy yourself.”

Westwood finally pulled his arm up to keep himself from being strangled by the choice of clothing that seemed required by this place, “Enjoying myself is not exactly what I see myself doing here.” He stated. He wanted to go back to the stronghold, go to a bar. Hell, even getting on the battlefield was more enjoyable than the froufrou surroundings around him.

“Is that so?” A familiar, female voice seemed to spring up from the mass of voices, “I could always chase you out like how the ponies did the first time you were invited to a gala.”

Westwood turned in surprise, the look on his face showing that she wasn’t meant to hear what he said, “Oh, Luna. What a-” He wanted to say surprise, but seeing as she was one of Equestria’s princesses that wasn’t the case, “How’s it been?” He tried to recompose himself even if it was too late.

Luna gave Westwood a look then shook her head with an amused smile, “It has been difficult, but we will survive.” She spoke looking to the main ballroom a short ways from the hall the gala’s entrance had been, “Care to dance dear king?" She asked before extending a wing, "A little bird has been telling me that you have been practicing."

Westwood scratched the scales on his neck nervously. In his thoughts he was strangling Alabaster with his jacket, "Yeah. Should be -um- fun." He was hiding every ounce of fury he was currently feeling for the elder of the party.

Luna could see how flustered Westwood had become by the mention of the anonymous individual, "I doubt you could be worse off than Twilight during a party with the nobles."

Westwood was sure that Twilight's ears were burning wherever she was, "Yeah. Too bad she couldn't be here to take the heat for me." Westwood grumbled with mild irritation.

Luna perked up one ear, "Come again?"

Westwood twitched at the two word question, "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

Luna however just let a small, yet dignified laugh loose as they reached the ballroom. Westwood's claw took a gentle hold of Luna's wing as they moved. Well missed contact with the lunar princess.

The ballroom was as it should be, more of a social meeting place rather than purely for dancing. The orchestral melody was more clearly heard now as the soft and calming notes offered relief to the excitable drake. Westwood's eyes were scanning the ballroom looking for anything to postpone the eventual dance.

The buffet table was sparsely populated with a few snobby looking mares and stallions, strictly a vegetarian menu spread across the table. After all, why put out a spread that only a couple or few were going to eat no matter the appetite. Wine was present as well, only it was not the type of drink Westwood liked. If only there was some Applejack Daniels or something with a high enough alcohol content to use as lighter fluid.

The band, ensemble, group, or whatever it was called were the usual. Octavia on cello with the others accompanying her. Never could remember any of the rest of their names.

That was when Westwood noted, 'these parties are dull'.

"Well then," Luna's voice broke Westwood's train of thought, "care to demonstrate those skills I have heard all about?" Alabaster's life was getting shorter and shorter.

"Right. Just give a second." Westwood answered while continuing to find a real reason to not dance. That was right until he heard the sound of snapping claws from the stage.

Westwood slowly turned his head to see that the snapping was coming from one of his squad. A much younger white scaled drake wearing a suit the same color down to the shine of his scales and a pure white fedora style hat gracing his head. Westwood grimaced to see Lucian now on the stage, microphone in claw, 'Heads on a pike, all of them.'

The music had stopped for a moment only to shift with the tempo. The music now took the guise of slow jazz than the orchestra it had been before.

Lucian had his back turned to the crowd. His unoccupied claw was keeping the tempo, "This one goes out to a special pair on the floor. I'm sure you know them." The now sensual tone of the younger reptile giving a clue on how this song was going to go. His voice echoing front the device in his claw, "This one's called, 'My heart to her'."

Westwood could have jumped on the stage and pummeled Lucian and Alabaster both into submission after this stunt. Especially so when a spotlight happened to follow his squad mate's words and light up the floor with Luna and Westwood dead center on the spotlight.

This embarrassment was not what Westwood felt like he needed even if it actually was. He was railroaded, some bizarre conspiracy to get him to dance. A dance he realized was just him and Luna. The lights were blinding him just enough so that he didn't even see the others around him, "You would make a great dictator with these ideas of yours." Westwood joked with Luna.

Luna pressed herself to the drake, the position she took was awkward to her as she shifted from standing on four legs to standing on two, "Alabaster, Lucian and I have been planning this for weeks. I'm surprised those sharp eyes of yours never noticed your advisor’s sudden need to make multiple emergency contacts with Equestria."

Westwood let a small laugh spring up as he moved with the tempo of the music that was floating around them. The lyrics were lost as they danced in that spot of light that was just him and her. One claw helped Luna balance in the standing posture she took while the other held one of her hooves, "This is going to be our song." Westwood spoke quietly through the song. This feeling warmed his would, a feeling he never wanted to end.

That atmosphere was broken by a voice that shattered the dream like glass.

"WAKE UP LIZARD!"

Westwood suddenly felt like he was falling into an endless black. His claw extended to try and reach for the moment he wanted back.

Westwood jumped awake after what felt like an eternity of freefall. He attempted to move his arms only to find that his arms were bound up in heavy chains behind his back and connecting him to the wall. He was also stripped of his power armor. The scars he bore were in plain view of whoever was in the room with him.

The source of the voice was in front of him. A power armored pony, and judging by the voice a stallion, that bore the Steel Ranger emblem, “What is your rank and file?” The muffled tone of the power armored stallion spoke to Westwood.

Westwood tilted his head when the the ranger spoke, “Rank?” He started while his mind was trying to keep up with his body, “And file?” He asked somewhat confused if only because he was still reeling from the impact of the rocket, the heavy impact from his fall then the dream of way back when.

The ranger face hoofed when he heard the question as Westwood’s answer, “Alright. Apparently we broke it.” He spoke under his breath even if the voice emitter in the helmet he wore made it audible. Then he started speaking slowly, “Who. Do. You. Work. For?” Each word was held longer than it really should have.

Westwood shook the remaining fuzz out of his head then looked at the armored ranger, “Give me a sec. I think I might have a concussion.” Westwood spoke wanting to grab at his head even if the restraints kept him from doing so.

The ranger huffed at Westwood, “So you can think.” The stallion sure wasn’t winning any points on Westwood’s books, “Now tell me. What were you doing with that Enclave recon team?”

Westwood angled his head enough to keep a good view of the stallion, “A team got stuck in the stable after the door closed and I helped the Enclave get them back out.” He stated then gave a sigh of relief, “Oh good. Not a concussion.”

The stallion stepped forward at Westwood. Iron bars kept him from advancing too far. Wait, Iron bars. This was a cell, a cell where? A question to be answered later, “Why was the Enclave here?” He asked.

Westwood tilted his head trying to understand the term ‘here’ as though it was a foreign language, “What do you mean by ‘here’?” Westwood asked. His spine started to tingle at the possibility.

The stallion groaned, “Alright then. Let me clarify so a cave pony could understand. Why was the Enclave,” He paused condescendingly then tapped a hoof on the metal floor, “in Stable 44?” He asked.

Westwood had a bad feeling something would happen if he answered that question, “The hell if I know. They needed help, so I helped. I help. Sort of what I do. Outside of fight.” It was then that it hit him. Here was Stable 44. Yet the lights were on. The power was back on. If the power was back on then. His expression instantly shifted to panic, “Listen to me. You have to get everypony and everyone with you and get the hell out of here!” He shouted at the armor clad ranger as he struggled to get himself loose from his bonds.

The ranger growled and slammed one armored hoof onto the bars, “You are not the one giving orders here lizard. Now. You will tell us everything you know and you will do it now!” He shouted at Westwood as the bars shook, “Tell me exactly what the Enclave was doing in this stable!” He shouted once more.

Westwood grunted at the ranger then shouted back, “I don’t know what they did in here. Now get out of here. This place is dangerous!”

The stallion was silent for a moment then he started laughing, “That danger was gone when we locked you in that cell. You must have had the a demon in you to slaughter all of those other lizards and the ponies that they accompanied.” He stated placing the blame for the skeletons on the locked up lizard.

Westwood snarled, “I was never in this stable until today. I was planned to, but shit happened and I got locked out. And shit is going to happen again if you don’t untie me and get your team out of here.”

The ranger just shook his head, “I don’t know where these stories of yours come from, but they are beginning to wear on my nerves.” His head then twitched. In his ear was a radio message from another of his unit.

“Paladin Night. You sure drinking that water was safe?” A second male voice echoed in the room, this Paladin Night must have left the radio on speakerphone or something, “I’m starting to see some really weird shit up here.”

Paladin Night then lifted a hoof to where his ear was, “Yes. We drew that water from a fresh talisman. The food was clean too so you didn’t eat anything contaminated. Pull yourself together initiate” Paladin Night spoke over the radio.

The voice on the other end didn't sound any more comforted, "I'm checking the cameras in here sir, but I could have sworn I saw a pony in here with a suit and no face. Thing looked at me too."

Paladin Night grumbled in his helmet, "For the last damned time. Slendermane is a story pre-war ponies told to scare each other." The irritation was evident in his voice, "Get Scribe Coffee Cake in there. He can take over security while you get some sleep."

The shaky tone on the other end didn't seem to show what he said helped, "Understood sir."

Paladin Night looked like he was about to murder something. The fact his look could be seen through his helmet spoke volumes on the subject, "Give me the details on what this stable is lizard." The paladin ordered Westwood with less than stellar results.

"Don't pull rank on me paladin." Westwood spoke as he attempted to subtly shift the leverage on the chains, "I don't take orders from you." He was quiet with a tension between the two that could nearly smother a pony, "But." He pulled himself forward to get as close to the bars as he could, "As a friendly word of warning. The power generator has some strange sphere talisman or something like that. It projects some sort of field that makes you lucid dream. And I guess that it projects nightmares too." His tone was adding emphasis on the nightmare part since the initiate on the other end was seeing a creature intended to scare.

Paladin Night looked like he was thinking for a minute, "Why in Tartarus would Stable-Tec come up with a hair brained idea like that?" The Paladin stomped a hoof on the steel floor, "That ranks up there with a stable that does mind control with subsonic waves."

Westwood chuckled at the fact, "Who knows what Scoots was thinking? Can't very much answer that now can she?"

Westwood  found the perfect spot to get the right leverage to free himself from the bondage he was in. Now he just needed to get free, find the generator and try to blow it up. Slashing it didn't seem to do much after all. Of course the Paladin was making it hard to get out without getting blown full of holes, "Why don't you check on the kid? If he's seeing Slendermane he might start needing therapy soon enough."

Paladin Night huffed at the fact a lizard was giving him suggestions, "Fine. Don't move."

"Can't move much with these chains on me." Westwood replied. His astonishment came when the stallion actually walked off, "I can't believe that actually worked."

The initiate was a milky white buck with an almost nonexistent mane. Probably necessary for the power armor he may get later on. He had found the security barracks and bunked down in one of the double stacked bunks. The mattress had surprisingly weathered the two centuries we'll even with the possibility of decaying flesh hanging in the air for Celestia knew how long.

The initiate had finally managed to get himself to sleep only for a sudden noise to spring the young buck back to life. Almost immediately, he sprung from the bunk with a low caliber pistol wrapped in a shining white aura. His horn glowed with the same aura while his head swept from side to side. A bead of sweat rolled down the space between his eyes while he searched the room, his legs unable to move further as he shook.

In the opening of the room something gave the initiate a chill. The pistol in the telekinetic field shook with the initiate. Soft tapping of hoofsteps followed not long after. The initiate was close to screaming when the source of the noise began showing itself.

A pale earth pony with no identifiable facial features slipped inside the barracks. The black suit and red tie abruptly contrasted the white, emotionless face the pony possessed. Black tendrils sprouted from the monster's back.

The initiate stood unblinking at the monster as it now remained motionless aside from the writhing tendrils from the monster's back.

"It can't move if you keep staring. It can't move if you keep staring. It can't move if you keep staring." The mantra echoed in the room. Soon the initiate's eyes grew heavy while his eyes started to dry. Every ounce of his strength was kept on keeping the pistol held in his telekinetic field and keeping his eyes open to keep the creature still.

He couldn't handle it any longer and blinked. Slendermane seemed to teleport several feet closer from the split second that it took to blink. The shock caused the initiate to open fire with his pistol. Each of the weaker bullets penetrated, but did not damage the creature. The magazine ran dry before he could think. A fresh mag was slammed into the firearm. However, the several blinks he had to take in the stream of bullets had brought the monster nearly an inch from the initiate's face.

There was one last pop throughout the stable before the sound of a body hitting the ground. Slendermane was no longer there, only the buck. Blood streaming from two bullet holes in the bottom and the top of his skull. The pistol followed and repeatedly cracked on the ground.

Paladin Night rushed in, nearly skidding metal on metal, as his hooves ground on the floor in the abrupt stop. He was motionless as he took in the sight of the dead initiate. Bullet casings littered the tight space next to the corpse. The final look on the initiate's face showed absolute horror in his last moment.

It was several more minutes before Paladin Night got himself back together. Once more he triggered the communication line, "Elder. Ma'am. We have a situation with Stable 44. And you are not going to like it."

Westwood had managed to pull the chains out from the welds in the wall. The chains gathered on the ground. The bars were now the only thing in his way between him and freedom.

The lighting around him gave him enough of a shadow to use for something small. The shadow jumped from the ground. Instead of forming a weapon it wrapped around Westwood's claw. The drake slashed at the bars with his shadow amplified claws which fell apart after several swings.

Now Westwood was free.

Westwood quickly and silently looked at the screen imbedded in the softer part of his forearm. The shadow was no longer glued to his digits which made pipbuck navigation easier.

The screen lit up with a small map of where he was in the stable. His current location read, 'BRIG' in large, capital, bold lettering. And right next to that was a room labeled 'Armory' this one not having any bold to somehow say that the brig was less substantial that a room full of guns and hopefully armor.

"Alright. Armory first. Then try and full on blow up the generator." Westwood thought out loud. He then clicked one last button on the pipbuck to plant a marker on the generator room, "Should be a piece of cake."

Westwood braced himself against the exit of the prison, his head slowly exposing itself as he looked around the corner. The last thing he needed was to rush out into a full platoon of Steel Rangers and have each part of his body spread on the walls like jelly.

After seeing the hall was clear, he slowly moved through the empty and silent hallway. Only a few more feet to the armory. If luck had its way it would probably be guarded, but then again there weren't that many rangers when he was being shot. Maybe he could finally have some luck.

Only luck seriously hated his guts. The armory was locked, the steel door was only accessible through a hoof/claw print analyzer, "Really? No lock? No hole? " He was refraining from shouting.

Westwood slowly hit his head into the door for a few seconds hoping that either it would open from sheer pity or maybe he could get any thoughts straightened out by beating his thick skull on the steel. Then it hit him, if he was supposed to be in the stable, then maybe there was a chance that his claw print would already be imprinted in the system, "Here goes nothing." He thought out loud again.

Westwood pressed his claw into the scanner. Bright lines shot to and fro on the scanner right until something chimed.

After the chime there was an aged voice, "Welcome to the armory sir." The door then opened when the locking bars pulled from the center.

Westwood swore he was dreaming again. Firearms lined one wall, older styled pre-power armor type combat armor covered the other, both pony and dragon. Westwood looked up and muttered, "Thank you." dramatically looking at the armory like a colt in a candy store.

Immediately Westwood went to the guns. There were three rows of weapons. The top row consisted of assault carbines, model BA-AC6. Each one immaculate, unused and unmodified version of his carbine. A fix that he could make if he ever found the parts to modify it or if his old rifle wasn't completely destroyed. And right next to each rifle was presented with a full box of 5.56mm ammunition. Score.

The second row was composed of pump action shotguns labeled BA-SG3. An old favorite of Westwood’s for close quarters. Once more, each weapon was offered with a full box of ammo. This time twelve gauge magnum buckshot shells. Fire power enough to blow a bear off its feet.

The third row had a series of unsuppressed pistols, labeled BA-P4 crossed with collapsed batons. Nothing ultimately substantial looking on the exterior, but in Westwood's line of work nothing was as it seemed.

On the other side of the room we're the armor cased. Each one sealed off and named. Many of the names listed were unknown to Westwood. Probably replacements for when the Shadow STG never made it back. Couldn’t blame them, can’t leave a spot open for someone that’ll never take the spot

Westwood stopped when he saw his name in a gold plated engraving. Inside was his old combat armor, two flaps that covered his front and back with two buckles keeping them together. Plenty of space to keep his wings mobile with the back flap in place. Underneath was a belt intended for carrying extra equipment: pouches for ammunition, extra space to put a holster, canteen holder or whatever. Next to everything was what stood out from the rest of the weapons and armor cases.

Next to his old combat armor was a single edged sword with the sheath still on it. Having caught his attention, Westwood took the blade before anything else. The drake drew the sword out to inspect it. The blade had an elegant curve and design to it. Swirls of black and white from the different metals layered over and over again gave it a charm that made one almost sorry to use as a weapon. Small runes were etched just over the six point star handguard,  the purpose behind them was lost with the last of the residents in the stable.

That was when Westwood spotted the sheet of paper in the case.

Dear King Westwood of the fallen nation of Dracous,

I am sorry that I could not help as I wished I could have. I wish that I could have saved you, saved you from your desire to fight. Saved you from that last mission that you promised you would retire from. I should have seen the look in your eyes, that you knew this was the last mission you would ever do. You knew you would pass on.

I wished that I could have said this to you in person, but if you’re seeing this letter then you know what happened. I had always hoped that I would not lose someone dear to me that was so young. I had always wanted to see our home return to the glory it had been before the one that you succeeded. And in this one moment of lucidity before I rectify my mistake, I want to admit something.

I want to admit to you if you are reading this. If by some miracle you’re still alive and reading this, I had always thought of you as a son. Even if you never saw it, I thought of you as my own flesh and blood.

Now that I admitted this, I feel it is time that I rectify my mistake. I will take a place upon the throne my insanity had created and I will bleed myself out by the throat. Let my blood soak the floor that I soaked in the blood of 399 innocents. Perhaps I shall find peace after this. If my past has anything to say, I will suffer in Tartarus for the rest of eternity. What is to say, I will never forget those innocent faces.

My last gift to you Westwood. I had commissioned this blade many years prior. It is formed from our Dracous steel as well as a small amount of the unknown metal that was found in the Hoofington region. I wanted to grant you this beautiful weapon as a gift to the anniversary of your coronation. If you are finding this now, take it. It has no place being locked away in a box forever.

From a damned soul to our last survivor,

Alabaster, the last White Knight.

Westwood was fighting back tears by the time he reached the end. Alabaster was a close, if old, friend. Plenty of times they were found sparring, laughing over a drink, engaging in unusual contests of skill and accuracy. Despite their rocky start when Westwood originally took the throne, they warmed up and befriended each other quickly despite the age barrier.

Westwood shook his head to try and be rid of the memories, “You can reminisce late. Right now, you need to get out of here.” He spoke to himself in a hushed tone before grabbing the contents of the case.

The plate carrier slipped on like a glove and two clicks announced that it was secured on his back and chest. The belt came next, one more click and the belt was secured tightly to his frame. A holster was attached to the belt, spots for rifle and pistol magazines were on the front of his vest, a water carrier and secondary long gun scabbard on the back and finally a spot to sling a rifle was attached as a small ring on one of the top straps of his armor.

Next up was the combat helmet. A visor flipped down as soon as it was clipped into place to give Westwood his familiar HUD readout with all of the benefits that it offered. Thankfully his helmet still kept his communications suite from before the armor upgrade, “Thank you once again you old fart.” He joked before slipping his new blade into the combat belt.

By the time he was finished suiting up in the older armor, he looked like a proper soldier from before the advent of power armor. It was a feeling he missed terribly.

His thoughts however were broken by the sounds of gunfire. And judging from the lack of a proper gap between follow up shots this was somepony that was scared out of his gourd. That being said, he didn’t have a lot of time before the other ponies possibly went insane. If the wasteland was as harsh as it had been just the first couple days of his arrival, years must have been near torture. And this place amplified dreams and nightmares alike. Thankfully whatever he did previously was more or less making him immune to the effects, or he wasn’t immune he wasn’t feeling it at the moment.

“Hey Woody!” And there it was, “Been a long time hasn’t it? What two hundred some odd years?” Westwood slowly turned his head, a creak could almost be heard from his neck as the living cloud of smoke came into view. The living cloud of smoke only Westwood could ever see.

“Oh great. It’s the nuclear apocalypse and I have to be stuck with you.” Westwood spoke to the living cloud of smoke with the same piercing yellow eyes that he had.

The living cloud of black smoke chuckled, “Oh come on Woody. You hurt my feelings when you talk like that.” One arm like appendage moved and traced what could be described as a tear down his cheek. Or something like a cheek.

Westwood crossed his arms over the armor now on his chest, “Look Nox. I’m stuck in a stable that’s driving ponies crazy, if you don’t leave my sight by the time we’re out of here I’m going to have Doc check my head for brain damage.” Westwood stated before letting out a huff, “Out of all the things I could see. It had to be you.”

Westwood moved to the weapons and loaded himself up, to carry the extra ammunition he’d have to find a backpack or something to help him out. The weapons though could be stowed away in the scabbard, holster and the sling loop. He begrudgingly grabbed one of the carbines that were mounted up on the wall first, the magazines currently full of ammunition were placed in the eight pouches meant for the small rifle magazines. The pistol in the holster with three of the twenty round magazines in their appropriate spots on the top of his vest. Then the shotgun, ammunition he would have to load onto his belt due to the short notice he had.

“Hey Woody. Something I need to tell ya.” Nox started as he hovered behind Westwood.

Westwood groaned, “What do you want?!” He shouted at Nox as he turned.

Nox pointed one arm appendage to where the door was. In the doorway was the paladin he had been talking to before, or at least he could guess it was.

“How long have you been standing there?” Westwood asked wondering what kind of look was behind that stoic visor.

Paladin Night was motionless and speechless for a few seconds, “Too long.” He quickly took a battle stance and readied his targeting spell to fill Westwood with enough holes to strain pasta.

Westwood let a nervous grin cross his face, “Any way you’ll just let me walk out without a problem?” He asked really not wanting to try and fight a Steel Ranger fully decked out in power armor.

The light machine guns on the ranger’s battle saddles let out a clinking sound that made it clear that they were ready to fire, “Not on your life lizard.” That was when the bullets started flying.

Westwood’s shadow jumped from the ground once more and attached to the thick natural armor on Westwood’s forearms. The dragon crouched down as the shape of a medieval style shield covered Westwood from getting lit up like the Fourth of July. Bullets pinged off the shield nearly endlessly. Small cracks formed in the translucent shield and threatened to break through. At least they would have if light machine guns hadn’t run out of ammunition or maybe that was a jam. Wasn’t uncommon with how dirty the weapons looked on the sides of the paladin’s armor.

Westwood quickly drew out the pistol from the holster on his hip then fired several bullets at Paladin Night. More specifically, just trying to get him to back up a bit. Thankfully it worked enough to get the buck to flinch. That was all he needed.

Westwood charged forward and sent an upper cut directly into Paladin Night’s jaw. The impact lifted the paladin off his hooves and landed on his back with a heavy crash of metal on metal. Westwood then pinning the armored buck down with the sword now positioned at his opponent’s throat. Now that Westwood’s eyes were behind a visor that was see through, Paladin Night could see the dead look in the dragon’s eyes. The look of a cold and ruthless killer.

“Finish me then.” Night spoke no waiver in his voice as he spoke, “Kill me and show that you’re just a monster like the other lizards.” Paladin Night was almost too willing to accept his death.

Westwood slowly pulled the edge back, “No.” The dragon’s voice, while not hindered by a mask, had an almost machine-like tone.

Paladin Night watched the blade slowly inch away from his throat, “What’s the matter monster?” He started, some of his breathing turned heavy as though expecting the return to involve a mass of blood, mostly his, “Not going to finish the job?”

Westwood let out a small growl as the blade went back to place near the Steel Ranger’s throat, “I am not a monster.” He spoke. His eyes glaring into the twin orbs for the visor, “I don’t kill for enjoyment. I never did.” His fangs became more visible as a snarl grew from his throat, “But if you follow me with the intent to kill again. I will leave nothing left than a smear on the wall.” The blade the moved away once more, “If you want to survive this stable, destroy the generator. It will keep your other rangers from going insane.” Westwood then took off running through the hallway, soon going out of sight and EFS range.

Paladin Night quickly got back onto his hooves and swung his head back around. Westwood was long gone in a matter of just a few seconds. Even out of range of his EFS, “Paladin Night to Elder Cherry Pie. The captive is on the loose.” Paladin Night spoke calmly over the radio in his helmet, “He also seems to be under the effect of the stable. What are your orders ma’am?” The paladin asked.

There was a few seconds pause before a second voice called in, “Shoot to kill. No telling what that thing will do.” The voice on the other side was a firm feminine voice that commanded authority.

Paladin Night nodded, “Understood.” With that he reloaded his heavy guns before taking off down the hall the last direction he saw the dragon go.

Nox snickered in Westwood’s ear as he floated beside the drake, “What? Not going to give him a smooch Woody?” The shadow floating next to Westwood looked like he was about to drop on the ground and laugh from the way it’s eyes moved.

Westwood growled at Nox, “Not the time.” Was the short reply Westwood gave before seeing two other rangers just about skidding to a stop. Westwood grabbed the nearest door that he could and used the momentum to swing himself into the nearby room, avoiding the bullets that were sent down the hall and into the corner Westwood had just turned. The sound of metal being penetrated by bullets with stomping hooves dulled in the background.

“So. What’s the plan now Woody?” Nox asked while Westwood was pressed into the steel wall nearest the door.

Westwood looked around the room seeing if there was anything that he could use, “I’m working on it.” He spoke while he thought.

Nox chuckled, “Well you might want to hurry. Sounds like they’ve got some some back up one the way.” The living shadow spoke as the sound of armored hooves once again filled the halls. No bullets fired, just sprinting.

Westwood took himself off the wall right as the first ranger rushed in. Out of instinct, the drake used his unarmed claw to grab the blade on his hip. One quick draw of the sword went straight through the dense armor on the Steel Ranger. The top of its head separated from the rest of its body with the momentum of the swing.

“Cherry!” A scream of anguish ignited the air as the second ranger charged in. Westwood’s emotionless eyes shifted to the second attacker. Westwood’s blade switched to the forward grip into his dominant claw. Adrenaline powered every motion as the second strike pierced straight through the ranger’s chest and out through its back.

Westwood pulled his sword back from the Steel Ranger's body. His eyes were cold and emotionless when he took his first lives in the wasteland. His breathing was steady and deep while still in the adrenaline rush. The stance he now took was that of a cold hearted killer, something that he very much was at this point.

Westwood’s trace was broken by the sound of radio static, “Hey Commander. Are you alive down there?” The feminine, yet tough voice of Aria played out.

Westwood placed a pair of claws and pressed a segment on his older helmet to activate the radio, “Aria?” He asked, the scene he was a part of not a minute prior fleeing from the forefront of his mind like it was nothing, “Not that I hate to hear that voice of yours, but I thought I gave you an order to not come back here.” Westwood’s elated voice betrayed that act of murder he committed.

Aria laughed on the other end, “If I remember right. You aren’t officially Enclave and you certainly aren’t my official commander.” Aria’s tone carried an act of rebellion against her orders from the drake.

Westwood snickered, “Well then. I hope that you went through with getting permission from the Major. Otherwise you’re in for a shit storm.” Westwood listened outside of the radio to see if there was any other sounds. Oddly enough, most were of steel hooves storming ‘away’ from the room he was in.

“Who do you think authorized the use of a vertibuck?” This time it was a male voice.

“Major?” Westwood asked before sliding his blade into his sheath, “When does an officer of your rank ever join the front lines?” He asked as he picked readied his rifle with his dominate claw, the other with his claws at his helmet.

His question was matched with a retort, “When does a ruler fight on the front lines?” Summer Storm asked back with the sounds of rapid fire dulled by what could be a cargo cell.

Westwood was stunned after what sounded like a minigun firing, “Got me there, but I’m a special case.” Westwood joked then he took in a breath to get back on topic, “Stay outside until I give you the all clear sir. The stable is still hostile, I’m suffering the effects of it.” He spoke in a more monotonous voice.

“Acknowledged. We’ll sweep up any rangers that make their way out here until you give the all clear. Over and out.” Summer Storm disconnected the frequency just after.

Westwood shouldered the carbine as he approached the doorway. If his luck had it, there were probably a small group still out waiting for him to poke his head out to get shot.

“God I’m going to hate doing this.” He looked at the pipbuck that was now at eye level with him, “SATS online!” He called out hoping that the system worked with his visor as much as the powered suit of armor he originally had. Thankfully the system worked.

As the world slowed to a crawl, Westwood shot around the corner with his carbine up and ready to fire. The quick scan of the room showed that two more rangers had stayed behind to deal with the dragon. Once the tactical position was returned time returned to normal. Westwood pulled himself back into the room just in time for several larger projectiles shot past where he was and exploded on the wall near the room. The shaking from the detonations with fragmentation that ricocheted off the walls triggered another adrenaline rush.

Westwood pulled himself back out and braced the forend of the carbine against the doorframe. Five shots rang out from the weapon and directly impacted one of the rangers directly to the chest plate before either ranger could react. The sixth bullet fired got lucky and punched through the first ranger’s visor while the other shots heavily dented the heavy chest plate. The ranger’s head shot back with the reaction before dropping to the ground with the heavy clang of metal on metal. Westwood immediately took cover behind the wall once more.

The boom of automatic shotgun fire roared through the hallway. Westwood mentally counted each of the shots fired until the shotgun clicked. What else there was were the sound of rapid hoofsteps. The sound of the shotgun roaring had covered the fact that the ranger was attempting to flank Westwood, “Fuck!” The sound of a mare echoed through the haze of a voice emitter almost right on top of the doorway.

Westwood’s shadow shot from the ground and formed that blade of a combat knife in his claws again. Westwood swung the blade upward just as he rounded the corner again. The blade cut like a heated knife through butter as the knife shot straight up through the helmet of the last ranger in the hall. The blood coated edge shot through the top of the ranger’s helmet.

Westwood pulled down on the shadow crafted blade to release the ranger. The blade then vanished back into the non-concrete matter his shadow was composed of. Once more, the adrenaline passed, “Right. Generator here I come.” Ignoring the newly deceased armored ponies and speeding back along his route.

The vertibuck outside touched down. The cargo doors opened seconds later to the scene of a small group of Steel Rangers not perforated with high caliber holes from the veribuck’s minigun.

“Alright scum. Ironsides here to rip you a new-” His speech was interrupted with Aria swinging a hoof at the back of the buck’s head.

“They’re already dead nit wit.” Aria spoke through her helmet at the trigger happy buck.

Ironsides shot his armored head to Aria, “Way to kill the mood.” Ironsides rubbed the back of his head as though the impact was more than just a love tap.

Summer Storm looked at the two then rolled his eyes, “Alright. You know what Black Knight said. Stay out until he gives the go ahead. Celestia only knows what kind of brahmin excrement is going on down there.”

Aria and Ironsides both looked at each other as a few other enclave soldiers left the cargo port to the vertibuck. The looks they had on their faces were hidden by the heavy armor.

“Sir, you can swear. It’s not like Celestia or Luna is going to drop from the sky and punish you with righteous indignation.” Aria stated as she watched her subordinate soldiers get into position around the stable opening.

Major Storm just chuckled, “You never know. We do call them the goddesses for a reason now.” The major was not cloaked in the heavier armor the others were wearing. Instead it was a traditional officer’s uniform with two holsters for pistols on his forelegs. His eyes shifted to Ironsides, “What are you waiting for Corporal? Get on the line with the rest of the soldiers.” His eyes shifted to Aria. Evidently he flipped a switch and went straight to officer mode, “Aria, you’re on overwatch. You fly up and see if any reinforcements are on their way.”

Aria and Ironsides both snapped their legs together before raising up one hoof to their foreheads, “Yes sir!” Both called out as Aria went skyward and Ironsides rushed to the line with his heavy guns ready to rain magical death on any that exited the stable. The big gaping hole where the stable was helped with identification.

“Rangers!” A voice called from the line. Seconds later the massive weapons mounted to Ironsides’s armor hummed and began spraying hot death into the entryway. The screams that followed afterwards signaled that they were at least hit. The glow that illuminated the length of the hall ignited with pink as the targets were disintegrated or reduced to goo.

“That’s it?” Ironsides asked looking into the opening, “Westwood having all the fun in there or something?” He asked as he tilted his head to try and get a better angle.

“Give me a fucking break!” Westwood shouted as dropped to the floor and fired a concentrated burst at the shooters in front of him before they could readjust their fire. The armor piercing bullets shot into one of their legs and a second dead center into his forehead. The way that they had been increasing in density seemed to prove that he was getting close to something that they thought was important.

“Maybe if you just stop and say hello?” Nox spoke over Westwood’s shoulder before a bullet from Westwood’s carbine punched a hole into the last ranger’s skull.

Westwood grabbed the pistol on his leg then fired five bullets up through the living shadow and into the ceiling. The hollow point bullets flattening on impact, “Would you shut up already?” Westwood asked with a degree of annoyance in his tone, “I didn’t like listening to you two hundred years ago. I don’t like talking to you now. I swear that you and Discord would have been the worst duo in the history of mankind.” Westwood spoke as he picked himself up from the ground.

Nox chuckled before passing through Westwood, “Oh, there you go using words that shouldn’t exist in this world again. I swear.” Nox shook his head, “You spent more time going through that magic mirror than you did hanging out with your best friend in the world.”

Westwood’s eye twitched, “You are lucky you can’t be killed.”

“I know I am. You’d never kill me because I’m your best friend in the world.” His voice became more elongated and grew in sarcasm.

Five more bullets rang out from Westwood’s pistol and through the shadow only he could see. Instead of speaking he holstered the pistol and reloaded his carbine with a fresh thirty round magazine, “Just.” He shook to contain himself, “Stay in the back of my head or something. It’s not a good time.”

Nox then made a mock salute, “Okie Dokie mister dragon sir.” Nox then faded away for the moment.

Westwood slowed his pace when he heard voiced a short way up. Could either be more lucid dreams from this place or they could actually be more rangers. Either way, approach with caution.

“I told you leaving the lizard alive was a bad idea.” A masculine voice spoke from a nearby room, “Now he’s going to wipe out this stable again. All because you let him live.”

Westwood approached the entryway, his talons lifted up from the floor in order to keep himself from being heard.

“We kept him alive because we needed him to break open the armory.” A second voice, this time feminine with a strong authoritative tone, “It wasn’t my fault that this stable has nothing worth recovering.” She spoke.

Westwood switched the stock of his carbine to the other shoulder so when he rounded the corner he could keep himself from taking too many risks. Without a flash or stun grenade he could end up walking into a massive fire fight outnumbered ten to one. Any advantage was better taken than avoided.

“We’ve already lost twelve of our rangers to that thing.” In his tone was a mass of anger that could almost be physically felt, “And now we’ve got the Enclave outside ready to tear us apart. Taking this stable was out doom.” The male voice paused with a sound of frustration, “Muriel. Shut that stupid dog up!” He shouted on a completely different tangent.

Whoever was on the other side, at least one of them was feeling the effects of the stable’s generator core.

“Calm yourself Paladin.” The female voice was raised to break the male from whatever fit he was going through, “We cannot have you losing your focus at a time like this.” There was a brief pause, “Especially since we have company.”

Westwood flinched hearing those last words then spun himself around the corner with his carbine at the ready. He was back in the overdrake office. His power armor, while having a charred circle from the rocket impact, was pretty much intact. Right next to the armor was his personal carbine and the pistol he was sent on the last mission with. Only the pistol was in seven pieces and scattered a bit. Right in front of his gear were two unicorns in expensive looking robes. One was a mare who had an aged crimson coat matched with a dirty blonde mane. The other was a straight blue stallion, much younger than the mare he was originally talking to.

“I’m rather surprised that you didn’t just outright shoot us after you wiped out half a platoon.” The older looking mare started as she stared at the dragon. She didn’t look scared or nervous about the dragon pointing a carbine at her.

Westwood kept his carbine up and aimed at the mare, “They were shooting at me and didn’t exactly give me a chance to say hi. Then again, I’m sure you gave them the kill on sight order.” His eyes glanced back and forth between the buck and the mare. He wasn’t going to focus on one and have the other pull some sort of weapon against him.

The mare gave a sigh, “I apologize for that. When we heard the report that you were under the effect of the stable. Something that so far only one,” Her eyes glanced to the stallion adjacent to her then corrected herself, “Two of us have experienced. A now deceased initiate, you didn’t kill him, and Senior Scribe Blueberry Jam.”

Westwood’s face contorted as he fought himself from laughing at the name, “I am-” His voice started to crack. He bit his tongue enough for there be enough pain to distract him from the food based name, “I am under the effect.” Seeing how things have been starting to grow more civil than before he wanted to lower his weapon. He wanted to, but common sense kept him from doing so.

A glow covered the stallion’s horn only to be interrupted with the sound of Westwood’s carbine firing and a burning pain in the stallion’s right ear. He dropped down and grabbed at his ear with the pain now becoming audible, “Why in Tartarus did you shoot me?” He asked.

Westwood kept his calm now that his giggles were expunged, “Glowing horn after I say I’m under the stable’s effect. I’ve found out fast that you guys don’t exactly give a lot of chance for explanation.” His eyes then turned to the elder, “And besides. If I was aiming to kill your brain would have been splattered all over that wall.”

The elder’s stoic appearance didn’t change even after the scribe was reduced to a blubbering heap with his hooves pressed against a wound that wasn’t even bleeding, “You are more sane than I would expect. And a lot more, “her hoof shifted to her chin in an attempt to find the appropriate word, “reasonable for a lizard.”

Westwood chuckled lightly after hearing what he assumed was an insult, “My little lucid dreams are a little more stable. Based on past experiences.” Westwood’s tone was once more growing conversational “When I asked a doctor before the war about dream problems, he explained I had some sort of chemical imbalance that keeps me from having anything more than flashbacks or alterations of such.” The sounds of a blubbering scribe made it somewhat difficult to keep a straight face while talking with an elder, “Rather annoying really.”

There was silence between the dragon and the elder, the only sounds being the crying from the scribe that had gotten shot through the ear. The heat of the bullet kept the clean hole from bleeding. Both the elder and Westwood keeping eye contact with one another.

“Westwood.” The dragon spoke slowly lowering his weapon.

The elder gave a somewhat confused look from what Westwood said, “Come again?” The elder asked.

“That’s my name. Westwood.” Westwood clarified as the weapon lowered enough to not be a threat. It was clear that the elder wasn’t affected by the stable at the moment if at all.

“Elder Cherry Pie.” She replied in the same manner. Westwood’s face contorted once again at the second food based name, “And I am sure that you find our names humorous.”

Westwood cleared his throat after a second, “Sorry. I’ve got a different sense of humor than most.” The last few giggles worked their way out of his system. That was when Cherry Pie saw the pipbuck and the medical scars surrounding the device on his scales.

“How?” She started, the one word question confused Westwood, “How do you have a pipbuck? And is it-” She gulped thinking about the scars, “Is it in your arm?” She finished. Her voice giving more shock that a dragon of all creatures had a pipbuck not on his arm, but in his arm.

Westwood looked at the metal box in his arm, “Yeah. MAS and MOT helped me out with this one. The downside was that I couldn’t have it just attached.” He grimaced before seeing the stallion finally picking himself up and stop crying, “Out for about two days after. Something about letting it fuse with my nervous system. Hurt like a bitch when I woke up.”

The stallion rubbed the newly pierced ear, “What is an MOT?” He asked trying to just about pull his eyes out of his sockets with how hard he was trying to look at his ear. His eyes were red and puffy from the whining and crying he made shortly before.

Westwood paused then slapped his claw onto his face, “Ministry of Tech. Never liked the whole ‘wartime’ part of it. Made it seem like war was all it was good for.” Westwood answered looking at the stallion between claw digits.

Westwood’s radio buzzed, “Sir. Are you done in there?” Aria called in on the other side, “Some of the bucks down here are getting restless and we haven’t had any more rangers poke their heads out for some time.”

Westwood glanced to the two robed unicorns then he shook his head, “Just doing a sweep. I’ll be out of here in a bit. Just hang tight out there.” Westwood spoke to the pegasi outside, “Sorry about that. So wrapped up in our little conversation I forgot what I was supposed to do.”

Scribe Blueberry Jam flinched then dropped back down on the ground, “Please mister dragon. Don’t kill us. I’m just a humble scribe. I don’t want to die!” He went back into a screaming and crying fit.

Westwood and Cherry Pie both stared at Blueberry Jam only for Westwood to break in, “He always cry like this?” He asked pointing a claw at the stallion. He then walked past the two and began unbuckling his old world combat armor, “I’m just getting my stuff. After this, I’m going to try and blow up the generator.” He then picked up each segment of the specially shaped armor pieces, “Give about a half hour after the blackout before you try and take off. There should still be a paladin wandering around. He’ll light the way for you.”

This all seemed confusing to Elder Cherry Pie, “Why are you helping us like this? You slaughter a good portion of our troops and now you’re going to hide us from Enclave? What is your angle?” Her voice showing both concern and seemed to be expecting some sort of betrayal.

Westwood looked back as the armor was strapped back onto his body, but not before the elder could see the massive scar in his back, “I’m not Enclave.” He started as he grabbed the devilish looking helmet with the single long visor, “And I owed the rangers for saving my skin a long time ago.” He flipped the helmet in his claws to stare into that lifeless visor, “I’m cashing that in now. What you say to your people is up to you.”

Cherry Pie watched as Westwood finished suiting up in his power armor. The yellow light that flashed on didn’t exactly help him look friendly. Despite the fact, the hostile air in the room was long forgotten, “You’re that dragon from the war aren’t you? Kin Killer.”

Westwood flinched hearing one of his old nicknames, one he wasn’t very proud of, “That was me.” He spoke with emphasis on ‘was’. The way he spoke showed little to no pride in the title. The dragon looked at the pipbuck in his arm and reset the navigation marker for the generator to hopefully destroy it for real.

Westwood then silently buckled the combat belt onto his armor before slipping the sheath of his mentor and adviser’s last gift to him. His claw then gripped the shotgun from its place on the ground, “Remember. Half an hour after the lights go dark.” His eyes shifted to the stallion.

Blueberry Jam seemed to be muttering things to himself. Maybe something next to him, but it was hard to tell, “Understood Westwood.” Cherry Pie spoke before attending to the scribe.

Blueberry was cradling his head between his hooves, “She’s coming. I know she is. She haunts me. Makes me suffer. Make it stop.” His ramblings were barely audible while his curled up, “She’s coming. She’ll destroy us all.”

Westwood stopped himself from moving when he heard what he was actually saying, “Elder. What does he mean by ‘she’?” He asked with his claw slowly reaching for the pistol on his leg.

Elder Cherry Pie kept her eyes focused on the scribe, “We encountered a family of hellhounds a few weeks before. Blueberry has been having trouble sleeping after one of our rangers angered the mother. She wiped out half our traveling party.” A worried look covered the elder mare’s features as she backed up, “Westwood.” Her voice was finding trouble, “What did you say this stable did?” She asked trying to keep her distance from the stallion.

Westwood’s shadow looked like it was bubbling off of the ground, “I don’t know for sure, but by experience it amplifies dreams to appear real. And nightmares count as dreams.”

Westwood’s shotgun was suddenly wrenched from his grasp as a glow covered both the pump action weapon and Blueberry’s horn, “You won’t fucking get me. No. You won’t get me.” The shotgun pumped and clicked as the barrel was shoved into Westwood’s face. Again and again the shotgun repeated the action as though Blueberry was seeing the weapon spraying gore from the unloaded weapon.

Westwood pulled the shotgun back with his recessive claw and a white magic circle formed around the palm of the other claw. There wasn’t even an impact before Blueberry was shot backwards into the wall behind him. Westwood let out a couple of breaths, a chuckle following after, “Good thing I forgot to load that thing.” He stated as his chuckle started evolving into a laugh.

Blueberry started to stir again, this time with an emerald glow surrounding a large caliber pistol, “I’m sorry it’s come to this scribe. You will b-” Cherry Pie was interrupted as Westwood gripped and near effortlessly dismantled the weapon.

“Cool it.” Westwood started as he tossed the pistol magazine and the top slide to opposite sides of the room, “My purge spell helps dispel others. The stable’s effect might have been lifted.” He spoke with his eyes jolting between the stallion and the elder.

Blueberry moaned as he pulled himself up to his hooves, “What in Tartarus just happened? I feel like I got hit by a sledgehammer.” Blueberry stated while he rubbed his forehead with one hoof, the other three were trying way too hard to keep him standing, “When did the lizard get here?” The scribe asked as though he had been absent for the last hour, “I thought he was locked u-” He paused for a second then realized that the dragon was armored and armed, “Who gave the Luna damned lizard his equipment!” He shouted and looked for his pistol.

Westwood rubbed where his eyes would be if his helmet wasn’t on, “Elder. Give him the update. I’ve got a generator to destroy.” With that Westwood scooped his shotgun off the ground and took off running. The navigation tag on his EFS guiding him to the generator once again.

Blueberry Jam shot his gaze from the empty doorway to the elder, “What in Celestia’s green Equestria did I miss?”

Elder Cherry Pie sighed and shook her head, “It’s a long story.”

Westwood’s breathing picked up as soon as he went on his way, “Damn it AJ. Couldn’t have at least made this thing easier to breath in?” He ranted at himself. Each corner he passed was scanned for potential hostiles, primarily the other ranges. He was more than likely known as a nightmare at this point, Celestia only knew what they would see them as now.

It was oddly quiet at this point, the only sounds being his talons clicking across the steel floor with each rushed step he made. There was no radio, no voices, no Luna and certainly no Nox. The quiet was actually starting to become unnerving.

That was when it finally happened. He made one turn and he was no longer in the halls. This time it was a jungle. This wasn’t anything found in Equestria, but it was still familiar.

“No.” He started before shooting his  along the walls of trees around him, “No. No. No. No.” He then heard voices behind him.

“Yo Sammie!” A voice called out. The source was not from a pony, a dragon or anything else like was found in Equestria. The source was from a human, “Let the rest of us keep up. I know you want this sonofabitch dead, but not everyone has your stamina.” The human was completely covered from head to toe in present day combat gear and rifles that looked like slightly longer versions of the BA-AC6.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Westwood's lips moved on their own. Westwood pulled his fingers to his mouth and realized he wasn't a dragon in this dream. He was human as well. The EFS system was no longer present, no high tech magical armor, no sword, and no claws ,"I've just got some bizarre burst of energy from nowhere." The voice continued before more steps were heard with the sound of moving brush.

Two other humans pulled themselves out from the brush, one looked like he was panting, “Jesus Christ Staff Sergeant. Were you born in the fucking Amazon or something?” The voice of a more gruff male came from the covered face of the next human, “No man should be able to move like that.” He spoke again as he placed his hands on his knees and let the rifle dangle on its sling.

“Yeah yeah. I got it, I got it.” Westwood’s voice sounded exactly the same as the dragon.

Westwood then pulled out a map from the armor he wore that looked much like the armor he wore in war-time Equestria. The map was spread out to show a view of the area, “I’m sure you all know the drill.” Westwood’s gloved finger pointed to a space off center, “The area’s well guarded. The target ended up getting a major security boost.” His finger traced the brown looking square with a marker labeling that there was a bunker, “So you know the drill. Stay low, stay hidden and shoot only when you have to.”

The other three humans nodded, “Understood.” The spoke quietly before they simultaneously pulled back on their charging handles to pull the weapons into loaded status.

It wasn’t even thirty seconds before a spotlight shone down on them with an assortment of yelling in in brush. Weapons fire began ringing out into the brush. The first and second human dropped as blood sprayed off of their bodies and to the trees and brush behind them. Westwood in turn received a bullet in the shoulder and leg before dropping to the ground. The other two were dead. Yet one of the humans remained standing. Unscathed and not even fighting back.

“Martinez you fucking traitor!” Westwood shouted. He wanted to stand, but the bullet in his leg had cut into a tendon. He couldn’t stand.

The human labeled ‘Martinez’ chuckled before picking up the other’s rifles, “You should usually ask where your troops go when they have to take a leak.” He spoke with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

Three more humans walked out of the brush. In their arms were older looking rifles, “Good to finally meet you Mister John.” One of the more casual looking humans started, “We still have one more of them to interrogate correct?” He continued before seeing Westwood attempt to grab something from his vest.

Martinez stomped on Westwood’s arm before he could do anything, leading to the human Westwood screaming as something snapped, “Don’t worry. He’s pretty banged up, but he’ll live.” With that, one of the more casual looking humans flipped Westwood onto his back before the back of his rifle impacted Westwood’s skull.

With that Westwood snapped out of his dreaming state. His head shook as he quickly tried to make sure everything was back in order. His claws patted around and his eyes jotted back and forth, “Claws, tail, scales, armor, EFS.” He spoke out trying to get a grip on his surroundings, “Good. Everything’s here.” He then gave a sigh of relief as he checked the load on the shotgun he had dropped in his dreaming stupor. Still loaded.

“Is that the best you got stable?!” He shouted at the structure, “Bringing up that old memory? I’ve got news for you!” He then took a deep breath, “I’m over it!” He shouted again.

“Maybe you should see a doctor.” Nox stated as he hovered up right in front of Westwood’s eyes, “You’re yelling at things that can’t answer back.”

Westwood’s eye twitched, “Fuck you Nox.” His claw passed straight through the cloud of black.

Nox chuckled at Westwood’s frustration, “Oh. Weren’t we doing something? You sort of spaced out and now you’re on a tangent. You do that a lot.” Nox spoke.

Westwood went rigid for a few seconds before passing a fist through Nox, “It’s not my fault I have so many distractions in the way.” With that, Westwood took off. The distance counter his prototype equipment had was quickly shrinking down from a triple digit number in meters down to a double digit. Then it went to a single digit. Then it read ‘0m’

Westwood could see the generator now, there was a large mark where it looked like it had been slashed through and it had recently been jury rigged to start working again. Westwood aimed his shotgun at the device then pulled the trigger. The first shot of twelve gauge hit the generator only for the pellets to vaporize as it hit some sort of shield, “That wasn’t there before.” Westwood spoke as he lowered the shotgun.

Next came the last few bullets from the pistol. The same reaction occurred as the nine millimeter bullets vaporized. Then Westwood’s carbine, the corner of his read out now labeled the firearm as ‘Requiem’. Three of the smaller rifle bullets impacted the shield with sparks of lightning now shooting from the generator. The armor piercing bullets offered more resistance to the previously invisible shield.

Westwood watched the bullets vaporize once again before dropping his carbine. Where was this shield before? He hadn’t remembered seeing or passing through a shield when his shadow crafted blade had went through it before and there didn’t look like there was any sort of shield talisman on it. What was making this shield?

Westwood’s eyes then shifted to the sword. He had nothing else to try and Dracous steel was some of the strongest metal anyone could find, “Sorry if this goes south Alabaster.” He spoke to himself before drawing his new weapon. The runes on the blade glowed in the presence of the shield. There was suddenly a gust in the room as wisps of black fire covered the blade of his sword. Westwood lifted the blade over his head before swinging down in a slant.

The gust changed as the blade swung down. The path the blade followed left a trail of flame and wind that left a melted scar throughout the blade’s travel, even in the places the blade had not yet reached. The shield sparked only once before it shattered like glass. The trail of black fire melted through the generator and left a scar on the wall behind it. For the few seconds that the room remained lighted, Westwood could see a melted scar on the steel wall behind the generator, the ceiling overhead and the floor that the blade’s arch had traveled. Once again, the room went dark.

Ironsides was pacing back and forth in front of the entrance. The weapons on his armor remained energized while waiting for some kind of clue to know if he could take out more steel rangers. Those few that came out were either full of holes after magical beam weapons tore through their armor or were piles of ash or goo on the ground in front of the stable entrance, “Come on Westwood.” He spoke wanting to either do more or get moving, “It’s been an hour already.”

Aria groaned and pressed an armored hoof to her helmet, “Would you shut up?” Aria spoke. Ironsides ended up leaving his receiver on in his communications and she was receiving every word that the buck below spoke, “Ironsides!” She shouted into her radio, “If you’re going to bitch and complain, turn off your damn radio!” She called down from her place overhead to Ironsides.

If his helmet wasn’t covering his face, the entire squad taken would have seen the look on his face, “Sorry Aria. Must of forgot to turn it off.” He called out over the radio before he finally shut off his end.

When he did, there was the sound of Westwood’s voice, “Black Knight to Hardhead and Songbird. Come in.”

Aria shot down to the ground then she called back, “Good to hear your voice commander.” There was a slight pause, “And what’s this about songbird? Hardhead I get, but songbird?” She asked with a slightly laugh.

Westwood chuckled back on the other end, “Best thing I could come up with using your name.” Westwood answered her question before clearing his throat, “Objective complete, but there’s nothing worth taking out of here.” He spoke before clacking sounds could be heard coming from the entrance, “Tell your bucks to stand down. I’m on my way out.” He spoke.

Aria then shouted, forgetting to turn off the radio receiver, “Friendly coming out of the stable! Hold your fire!” She shouted to the other Enclave pegasi.

Westwood walked out of the darkness looking like he quickly took the helmet off his head, “Aria. Turn your receiver off before you shout like that.” Westwood spoke with one claw in his ear.

Ironsides would have given a smug grin at Westwood’s comment, but the helmet kept his face hidden, “Good to see you back command.” He spoke lifting a hoof up, “Tin cans didn’t happen to get any probes in you did they? I bet capturing something like you would have made them into aliens.”

Westwood smirked before tapping his bare fist into Ironside’s hoof, “Nah. They tried, but they ended up getting their probes shoved so far up their ass they’ll be tasting metal for a week.” Now that the former ruler was completely exposed,  the Enclave could see some of the add-ons to his powered armor. Mostly the backpack, sword, wartime battle belt belt and the shotgun that was hastily shoved into the opening of the shotgun. The backpack looked weighed down by things of varying shapes and sizes.

“Nothin’ in there eh?” The other masculine sound of another armored buck, “You managed to pull a whole lotta somethin’ for nothin’ in there.” The tone he gave made it look like he was looking to storm the place anyway.

Westwood chuckled at the other buck, “Nothing good on your side. It’s all dragon armors and weapons. Can’t mount it to a battle saddle, parts aren’t compatible.” Westwood rolled his free wrist as he tried thinking of more reasons, “Long story short. Too much crap for me, none of it is good for you.” He spoke then pressing a claw tip against the other buck and pushing his head back.

Westwood walked past the buck then stood in front of Summer Storm, he being the only real identifiable of the bunch, and offered the major a salute, “The Steel Rangers have been wiped out sir. Requesting permission to remain and dig graves for the dead.” His words came out robotic while asking to dig.

Summer Storm arched an eyebrow at the dragon before returning the salute, “No need for permission. As what Aria stated, you officially aren’t Enclave.” He replied to Westwood’s request, “I suppose that you’ll want to do this alone?” He asked seeing the look in Westwood’s eyes.

Westwood nodded, “I had history with the rangers in the war. Since I killed more than a dozen myself I feel it would only be right to make amends by giving them a proper burial.”

Summer Storm was silent for a moment before looking at the his Enclave unit, “Understood. You have our location tag when you’re done in there?” He asked tapping his foreleg meaning Westwood’s pipbuck.

Westwood looked at the device implanted in his arm then clicked a few buttons on the screen. The map screen had only a handful of locations, most of them were locations that may or may not exist after the war was done, “Yeah. I’ve got it.”

Summer Storm gave a nod, “Alright bucks!” He called out to the armored group, “Mission accomplished. Westwood’s going to meet us back at base. Unless the rest of you want to start digging graves for Steel Rangers.” The expected sounds of rejection started to ring out amongst the crowd, “Then it’s decided. Get on the vertibuck and the dragon will follow us when he’s done." He then turned and offered another salute which was returned, “Get back safe sir. And try not to get hit by any missiles on the way up.” He joked. The sentiment was returned by Westwood’s grin.

With that, the Enclave boarded the aircraft once again and left Westwood behind. Only this time, the conditions were a lot better on both sides. Westwood watched the vertibuck lift off and almost hesitate for a second before it finally took off.

When the vehicle was out of view, Westwood extended his arm with his shadow forming a shovel in his claw, “Well. Time to get to work.” With that he tossed his new gear to the ground before starting to dig.

It was nearly an hour of digging before Westwood had heard movement behind him. With the sounds he stuck the shadow crafted shovel into the ground, "Little late, but late is better than never." He spoke to the ones behind him. In front of him were ten holes suitable as graves for the fallen rangers. Still plenty more needed.

"I didn't think a lizard would keep his word and actually let us go." The muffled voice of Paladin Night spoke to the armored drake.

Westwood slowly turned his head then sighed before going back to digging. The act somehow confused the buck, "A black knight's word is truth. I made the agreement that I would give you a chance to escape and I did as I said." With that the eleventh hole was half done.

Two more sets of hoofsteps followed behind to see the mostly armored Westwood digging the rectangular holes in the dirt. There was silence between the entire party present aside from the sound of shoveling dirt. Several minute passed as Westwood finished the current grave, “Take what you can and go.” The dragon spoke before spearing his shovel into the ground, “Tell your superiors whatever you want. My end of the bargain is satisfied.” He spoke not bothering to look back at his wartime allies.

Elder Cherry Pie slowly approached Westwood and pressed a hoof to his back, “I do not blame you for your actions dragon.” She spoke then made her way in front of him to see the graves, “It was my responsibility. My order to shoot on sight, my call to attack a hazardous creature.” Her tone was showed that she wasn’t just blowing smoke up Westwood’s ass.

Westwood huffed at the elder even if his back wasn’t turned, “You gave the order, but I pulled the trigger.” The shovel was then pulled out from the ground once more , “Now do as I said and go. I still have more graves to dig for your dead.”

There was no longer a word to be spoken between them, only the softer sounds of hooves on dirt as the three survivors of Stable 44 left. That silence lasted another hour as the last graves were dug out. Graves not just for the rangers he had shot and killed, but for the residents of Stable 44 that had fallen victim to the negative effects of the stable.

Metal and wood crosses were formed at the head of each of the graves now filled with dirt. Each one had a set of identification tags hung up on them. The grave for the residents of Stable 44 however were marked by a silver rapier jutting out blade down into the dirt, Alabaster’s prized blade that even now retained the elegance and beauty it held before the war.

Westwood stood in front of the newly buried dead and formed a cross on his chest with motions from his claws before uttering a few words. Words that he uttered at any burial, “Requiescat In Pace.” His claws folded as though deep in prayer, “I hope to see you at the gates of heaven.” His head bowed softly to give the dead their piece.

After a solitary moment of silence, Westwood picked up the equipment from the ground and looked to the silver rapier, “Alabaster.” He started everything in his face showed he was trying not to cry, “If you see Luna. Tell her that I still care. I never meant any of what I said.” His left claw gripped the handle of the sword on his hip, “And that I’ll live for her. Since it is my fault that everything is gone.”

With that, Westwood spread his wings before putting his helmet back on. A few solid flaps of his large leathery wings lifted him off the ground. A white circle formed at his talons before being sent skyward. Back to his new home in Camp Pendlecolt and the new life he had to live..

Update Authorized:

Level Up

Combat Perk Authorized: Commando

Your expertise with two handed firearms is beyond recognition, you do have over fifty years combat experience.

Hit chance in S.A.T.S is increased by fifteen percent and overall accuracy with all two handed firearms is increased.

Quest Perk Authorized: Dream Walker

Your time in Stable 44 has a permanent effect on your mind and body. At times you will see thing that others cannot and can even converse with these images. Whether they're a ghost or a hallucination is anyone's guess.

Faction status updated

Grand Pegasus Enclave faction set to Liked

Steel Ranger faction set to Mixed

Unique Weapon found:

Harmony and Dissonance: A katana type sword forged from Dracous steel and a currently unknown second metal.

Runes etched into the black and white swirled blade give the weapon magical enhancements. The conditions for the enhancements to activate are not known at current.

Rare Armor reacquired:Knight's Order Power Armor- Designation Specter.

Armor only issued to members of the Shadow STG. Outfitted for stealth and mobility above defense. While not offering the same benefits of standard power armor, one can move easier and quieter when used. Also comes standard with stealth based hardware and software.

Weapons compatible with armor: Sniper rifles, assault carbine, automatic pistols, light pistol, heavy pistol.

Restrictions with armor only allow two weapons to be equipable.

Additional effects: Strength+1, carry capacity+50, Charisma- 1

Uncommon armor acquired: Draconian Combat Armor: Dragon Skin

A standard issue combat armor for the Black Knights Division  before the advent of powered armor. Modular and customizable to user preferences. Helmet offers a visor for EFS usage and eye protection as well as a communication suite. Panel armor can be used as supplemental armor to powered armor for additional customization options.

Weapons compatible with armor: No limitations.

Additional Effects: Carry capacity +50, Agility+1.

Line of Duty

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

Past and Future

   Westwood's eyes slowly opened to the sounds of chirping birds. The grey wasteland he had recognized before was gone and in its place was a familiar room. Princess Luna's room to be exact. Sunlight trickled in from a curtain that had opened slightly to reveal everything inside. Including the princess nestled up in his arms. "It must have been some insane dream." Westwood mumbled to himself before pulling the mare tightly into his bare, scarred chest.

    Luna shifted with the sudden tightness. A small silver band wrapped around the base of her horn showed itself from under the current mess of a mane, "Finally awake your highness?" Luna playfully asked with a smile curled up in the corner of her lips.

    Westwood chuckled softly to the question, "Yeah." His claw tips gently brushed into the fur on Luna's chest, a matching silver band around one claw digit, "Been waiting long?"

    Luna slowly shifted her head to glance back to Westwood, "It has not been long, but I was too comfortable like this." Her head and neck arched back into the crook of his neck.

    Westwood pressed his scaled lips to the nape of Luna's neck, "Glad I could be of some use." Slowly, Westwood's claw shifted down to her stomach where it rested. Neither of the two seemed eager to move as it was.

    It was several minutes after Luna finally broke the silence, "We should probably let ourselves out before the world forgets us." She reluctantly pulled herself away from the drake who was equally reluctant to release his mare.

    Westwood pulled himself up and seated himself at the edge of the elaborate and currently disheveled bed. A smile pulled on the corners of his cheeks while he played with the ring on his finger. Luna posted herself up and beside the dark colored drake. Her eyes glanced to Westwood's claws twisting the ring along the length of his claw, "You could have asked sooner if you wished."

    Westwood was pulled out of his thoughts and shot his head to Luna, "What now?" He asked taking his claws from the silver.

    "You could have asked sooner than the gala if you desired me so." Luna elaborated as her horn glowed, "I would not have refused."

    Westwood nervously grinned after the question, "You know me. Always the hopeless romantic." With some effort he straightened out with more of a sense of calm, "I couldn't have asked just any time. It had to be the right time." His claws fiddled with themselves as he explained, 'Wouldn't have felt right if I just asked you on some day in the park or something. Had to be that day at that moment."

    Luna stared for the moment. After said moment, she started to laugh at the explanation, "I would say hopeless is the correct description for you." She nuzzled up to his snout, "But I suppose that's better than other stallions, or in your case drakes."

    Westwood laughed softly with Luna in turn, "Yeah, I guess I am kind of hopeless like that." His eyes glanced down to the ring and then to Luna, "Do you think we'll be able to make everything official soon? War-time isn't exactly the best time to throw a fancy wedding fit for a princess."

    Luna pressed a soft kiss to Westwood's cheek, "I'm certain that we will dear king." Luna answered with a nuzzle to that same cheek, "Though, I would be happy with something simple until we can have a more celebrative display if you so desire."

    Westwood's arm wrapped around Luna and pulled her in close again, "So long as you're happy my princess." He whispered.

    With a nuzzle in return Luna whispered into the frill covering Westwood's ear, "As much as I enjoy these cuddles my king, we will have to break away soon. We have our duties after all."

    With a somewhat annoyed sigh, Westwood nodded, "I know. I just wish that we didn't have to."

    "You're such a hopeless romantic." A soft giggle resonated between the two.

    Westwood chuckled in return, "But I'm your hopeless romantic." One last kiss between the two signalled their separation, "'Til next we meet my princess?" He asked with a formal air to his voice.

    Luna responded with a brief bow, "'Til next we meet my king."

    Westwood grabbed the suit jacket and shirt from the floor where it had been discarded and slipped the tight fabric back onto his body. As much as he enjoyed the fact that clothing wasn't a required item in this world, he was still in the home of a royal and needed to be suited as such. The top button to his shirt was left undone to allow him to breath.

    Westwood slowly opened up the door to the hall where his life was forced to continue on without his princess in his arms. The white light of the morning sun slowly filled the room to a nearly blinding point.

ooo.OOO.ooo

    Westwood found himself in a slate grey room, he was once again on a bed though this one was much less comfortable than last one. Unlike the standing position he was in just a moment before, he was seated upright. He glanced around to get his bearing. A faded eye chart on the wall to his left, a rust brown sink to his right and,most notably, a yellow box on the wall beside the sink. This was a kind of infirmary, one different from the makeshift lab he had been trapped inside of at another point, a little better maintained from the Camp Pendelcolt lab as well.

    At his bedside was a familiar fuchsia pegasus with her head pressed softly onto his claw. Unlike when they had first met, she was completely bre of any uniform or any coverings. With that noted, his eyes slowly wandered until they viewed her cutie mark. A grey shield bearing a a gear and two wrenches crossed in front of them. It seemed a little odd after seeing the many moods she seemed to possess at the drop of a hat. No idea what that would look like though.

The sudden disturbance however had woken phenom up with a groggy look still sagging into her eyes. When her eyes finally met up with the reptile's the groggy look suddenly exploded into one of unparalleled excitement, "Mister Westwood!" Phenom exclaimed and leapt from her spot to wrap her forelegs around his trunk.

    Westwood grunted with the reminder that he was been stabbed a few dozen times shortly before. Thankfully the wounds had healed up well enough, "Morning Phenom." He added through the grunt of discomfort.

    Phenom pulled herself back from the drake with a nervous smile on her face, "Sorry Mister Westwood." Phenom spoke poking her hooves together, "I was just so excited to see that you were alright." She added in with her head tucked behind her hooves.

    Westwood lightly exhaled with relief returning again, "Good to see you too." He greeted with a soft pat on her head. He slowly pulling himself out of the rather uncomfortable mattress, "Anyone else awake?" He asked with a claw perched up against his back.

    Phenom nodded, "Oh yes." She started, "The high commander and the major have just about been pacing back and forth all over the base. Though that was a while ago, so maybe Summer finally went to sleep."

    “Is that so?” Westwood asked letting a few pops in his back echo in the small room, “Then I guess I should meet with this high commander.”

    Phenom let out a squee at the mention, "Alright. Let's give everyone a big hello." A wide smile stretched from cheek to cheek. Her rear hoof gently kicked the door open into the dimly lit halls, "Right this way."

    The walk through the halls went by somewhat slowly. Instead of being one long hall to where they needed to go, it branched off into several other halls to other places that didn't seem important right at that moment. The lack of any sort of life other than the cheerful humming of the fuscia mare beside him was rather unsettling. Thankfully that all ended once they both made it to the door labeled 'Commander's Quarters'.

    Phenom knocked her hoof against the steel door, "High Commander. I brought him up just like you wanted." She called out through the door.

    The hall fell silent again until the speaker box on the side of the door buzzed, "Thank you Sergeant." Phenom pushed the button on the door with that confirmation. The door quickly slid open to reveal the office on the other side.

    The first thing that Westwood noticed taking his first step inside were all of the propaganda pieces that lined the walls, shelves and even the little bobble head that was posted on the desk directly in front of him. Familiar slogans for recruitment, morale boosters of the king decorated in armor, even newspaper clippings with headlines like "Black Knights Lead The Way" or "Collaboration Effort Stops Drug Trade" were framed and hung on the walls. There was always one common item with each piece, the Draconian King was always the point of focus. It was flattering and unnerving all at once.

    That was when he focused his eyes on the midnight blue, uniformed mare seated behind the desk. A pair of reading glasses bridged her muzzle. Other features like the leathery wings, long spiral horn, tightly wrapped black mane and the claws protruding from her hooves didn't seem to be important enough to hide, "I have been waiting to meet you for a long time Black Knight. Can't say that I'm disappointed on how." Her voice was calm and cool. As expected of a military commander, "Please. Take a seat." Her head shifted to the door, "You are welcome to come inside as well if you wish Phenom."

    There was a slight squeak at the door before the pegasus mare slowly poked her head inside the office. A nervous smile split her face, "Sorry Commander. Wasn't trying to eavesdrop."

    The odd looking mare behind the desk smirked at the tone, "Eavesdropping implies that I cared if you listened to my conversation." She motioned a hoof-claw to the empty seats, "If you will?"

    Westwood slipped into the office chair, his posture straight and ready should this meeting turn sour. Phenom cautiously hopped up into the elevated chair seemingly made for someone taller than she was. She held herself up straight as addressing a superior, the slight drop of sweat slowly running down her face betraying any hint that she was anything but calm.

    The mare and Westwood stared at one another, sizing the other up, "I suppose you're curious about me." She stated while keeping her eyes focused on the other set of golden eyes above her steepled claw digits, "At least I can assume. Nearly everyone else is."

    Westwood maintained his eyes contact to the familiar gold orbs in front of him, "I suppose that it has crossed my mind." His claws placed at his knees while he stared at the other military leader, "I assume you're a type of hybrid."

    The mare nodded and shifted her eyes to Phenom as though expecting her to start talking. Her glance was met with a nervous smile, "Your assumption would be correct." Her grin returned, this one fillled with an 'I know what you dont' sort of vibe, "High Commander Starset. Heir to the throne of Dracous and Equestria. Daughter of a Draconian king and an Equestrian princess." She bowed her head slightly without taking her eyes off of the drake, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, dad."

    Westwood's eyes did their best impression of a broken terminal monitor. A look matched by his slack jaw and suddenly loose posture.

    Starset snickered at the odd reaction that the king of dragons, "Phenom." She started her hoof-claws dropped down to a more relaxed formed, "Could you do me a favor?" The dracony mare asked pulling open a drawer from her desk and setting a vial down on the stained wood, "Could you open this up and waft it past his nose."

    Phenom picked up the vial carefully with her hooves and yanked the cork free with her teeth. The intense, indescribable smell that seemed to erupt out made the pegasus gag for a second before recovering. She did as instructed and carefully waved the opening in front of the holes in the front of Westwood's snout. The dragon jumped and attempted swatting the offending odor away and flopped back in his chair from the sudden reaction. Westwood let out a groan while he recovered from both the sudden offending odor and the sudden drop to the metallic floor. Phenom quickly jumped from her seat and hovered over the temporarily indisposed drake's face.

    Starset shifted herself from the seat and stood over him while he was still on the ground, "Glad you could join us again." She snarked. The look on her face suddenly reminding Westwood of those times where Luna would have been mischievous in her time before the war, "If you react like that to just that news. I can only imagine how you'll react to the rest of the last hundred and fifty years."

    Westwood's mind passed by a mile a minute thinking what more could be said that would make him react worse, "Oh joy." The words came out in a groan while stuck half seated in the overturned chair with his tail dangling in front of his face. He rolled out of the seat and dusted himself off.

    Phenom let a sheepish smile slowly cross her face, "Well. It's not all that bad." Extra emphasis on the word 'that'.

    As soon Phenom finished her sentence the door opened. A green and orange blur blew past the dragon leading to said blur leaping off the ground and hanging off of Starset's neck like a foal sized pendant. Said foal sized pendant being a filly with emerald fur and a red mane. Her hooves bore the same hoof-claws that Starset possessed though the rest of her seemed like a perfectly normal pegasus filly, "Mommy! You're home!" The filly giggled while nuzzling her cheek into the mare's chest.

    Through the still open door, Summer Storm trotted in to see where the filly had gone, "Sorry hun. Rain heard you got back an-. Oh, Commander. Didn't know you were up."

    Westwood was frozen solid for a moment as he took everything in. The filly with only a smidge of any kind of hybrid features, the major calling Starset 'hun'. The filly, Rain presumably, calling Starset 'mommy'. The filly tilted her head back to look at the stunned drake, "Mommy? Is that grandpa?" With those last four words, Westwood's eyes rolled in the back of his head and he fell backwards onto the metal floor again.

    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Several hours after finding out about his family, Westwood and Starset both laid back on the hard dirt outside of what he discovered was a bunker. Between them a bottle of whiskey stayed upright with a set of shot glasses next to them, "You know. I never thought I'd end up meeting my daughter like this?" Westwood added as he watched the swirling clouds overhead.

    Starset glanced back to her father, "Is that so? Care to enlighten me on how you thought you'd meet me?" She asked as the bottle of amber fluid was levitated by a tendril of black and poured into the two glasses.

    Westwood scratched at his snout while he thought, "Well. Me coming back to the castle, I get the news that I'm about to become a father, I run as fast as I can through the castle halls possibly knocking some things over in the process. Then I throw the door open to see you and Luna. Luna asks me to hold you and we all be that happy family."

    Starset was quiet for a moment before bringing the glass to her lips and shooting the burning liquid down her throat, "That has got to be the corniest thing I've ever heard someone say."

    Westwood chuckled with a grin on his face before slowly picking up the second shot glass, "You wouldn't be the first to say that to me. Probably won't be the last." He chased those words with the shot, "Your mother always did say I was the most hopeless romantic that she knew."

    Starset let a laugh bubble up with the admission, "I think I remember her saying that once or twice. Especially after she told me about how you took her on that little carnival date, incognito, with a little help of Auntie Twilight. And how absolutely ridiculous you looked trying to walk on all fours after that little transformation spell."

    Westwood laughed with Starset at the pleasant memory, "Those were such better days. Not a care in the world and everything could be either solved with friendship or a orbital friendship cannon." The slight laughter subsided remembering how things went with the zebra shortly after that, "How I wish we could all go back to those days." He set the shot glass down, his eyes focused on the sky once again.

    Starset was quiet after Westwood's tone turned more solemn. She gave him the next few minutes to himself. She softly bit her lip with one of the four sharp canines she inherited. With a deep huff and another shot of alcohol she pulled herself up to a seated position, "Hey. I know it's a lot to ask for," She paused to gauge the interest in Westwood's expression, "Me and some of the others are going to be headed out on a caravan escort thing. You're welcome to join if you want."

Westwood shifted his gaze from the sky to Starset. A smile slowly curled his lips, "Well, I'd be all for a little trip. Only problem I have is my armor."

Starset say the look in Westwood's eyes and offered her own grin, "Already taken care of. Phenom installed a Steel Ranger repair talisman in your Specter suit and fed it enough scrap metal to fill in all those holes and dents."

Westwood arched a brow at the mention of Phenom installing a talisman, "Didn't take her for the techy type." He commented before swinging his weight up and bringing himself into a seated posture, "But if she went through the trouble, it would be rude of me if I declined now." He spoke in a somewhat sarcastic tone and a grin pulling at the corner of one of his lips, "First thing in the morning?"

Starset picked up the neck of the bottle with her claw and lifted the two small glasses with her ever present shadow, "Yup." She poured a couple more shots for the drake and herself, "So try not to drink too much and get a hangover." One of the shots lifted to Westwood.

Westwood took the glass from the mare's shadow crafted tendril which nearly melted back into the ground and to the rest of her shadow, "I'll do my best not to." He and Starset clinked the glasses together before downing the contents.

As Westwood jumped back onto his feet Starset cleared her throat, "Though I should mention. Freya is going to be joining us. And she isn't exactly happy about what happened yesterday." Her shadow tucked away the glasses and now sealed bottle back into her pack.

Westwood looked back in mid-stride, "Freya?"

"Yes. That gryphon you disarmed  and, I quote, 'knocked the fuck out' yesterday." Starset trotted past the drake with a smirk, "She was undercover in the camp. Glad you didn't outright kill her."

Westwood chuckled nervously at the revelation that he had attacked a soldier on his side, "Sorry about that. Put a shotgun to the back of my head and all that."

Starset stuck her tongue out at the drake, "Oh, I'm not sore about it. Freya on the other hoof." She swirled a claw whimsically in the air, "She might want dragon steak for tomorrow's meal."

Westwood sighed in irritation while progressing back into the military bunker, "Perfect." With an opening of a hatch, he jumped back down into the long, expansive halls below. Now to not get lost and find an empty room.

No Updates to Recognize

This Untraveled Road

Three alicorn sized drakes carefully strode down the white marble hallways of Canterlot Castle. Two of the three possessed scales nearly as white as the halls they walked, the last clad in dull ebony. Westwood, the newly succeeded king of Dracous, had his torso wrapped near completely in recently stained bandages while leaning on the shoulder of the younger of his two companions.

“Your highness. As late as it may be to say this, “ Alabaster started in mid-march, “You can postpone this meeting. I can organize that with the princess if need be.”

Westwood chuckled with a visual twinge of pain evident in both his walk and posture, “It would be a bad move if my first decision as a king would be to cancel a meeting with other royalty.” His eye twitched when his aide, Lucien, pulled his arm enough to keep his ruler firmly secured in their walk, “Besides. A little pain is good for the constitution.”

Lucien grimaced at the twitches as though expecting this new king to spear him through the chest same as the former tyrant, “Forgive me for speaking out of place sire,” Lucien started instantly turning his head to avoid as much pain as the ruler would throw at him, a blow that wasn’t even hinted at, “but this might be overdoing it a bit. It’s only been a day since Luz’s overthrowal. Rest might be a better option.”

Westwood glanced a single yellow eye at his aide, “Was Luz really that much of a bastard?” He asked with a hint of contempt for the former royal. Without letting him answer, the shade looked forward onto the audience chamber doors, “Rest can wait. There’s too much to worry about right now. Just make sure I don’t fall when I take my stand.” What came next almost seemed alien to Lucien, a genuine smile.

Lucien returned the smile and let the elder of the three proceed to the doors, “As you wish your highness.” The younger holy drake let Westwood take to his own talons and walk through the newly opened doorway.

Westwood walked with heavy clattering steps as each talon collided with the white marble floors. Before him stood Celestia with a brief look of astonishment as to who actually walked through her doors instead of who she assumed would. After several steps, Westwood stood still and straight with a discipline that overcame the looks of pain he previously possessed. With his right claw balled up over his heart, Westwood respectfully bowed his head to the princess.

Celestia returned the bow, “My apologies for the look of surprise. I was expecting someone else.” She spoke when her head rose in time with the draconian.

Alabaster cleared his throat before Westwood could react, “I would have addressed the concern prior, but our king wished for his identity to be kept a secret for the most part.” Westwood grinned with his maw full of sharp fangs at the mention though ultimately he remained silent about that measure.

Celestia looked to the older advisor then back to the royal, “This surprise is refreshing considering who you’ve replaced.” Her stride was every bit as majestic and regal as her white coat and multicolored mane, “To the matter at hand. You wished to discuss circumstances regarding our nations and safety between us.”

Westwood nodded with some strain starting to show itself while his body shook in place, “Yes. Since I have no reason for attack and I fear no reason to be attacked. I wished to settle a peace treaty to ensure no conflict between our nations.”

Celestia’s eyes shifted to the slightly growing tinge of red that was starting to reappear in the white wrappings around his body, “We can, but those injuries will need to be treated bef-”

Celestia’s words were broken by another’s voice as Luna stormed into the audience chamber, “Sister. A thousand apologies for my tardiness.” Her darker color contrasted the room so greatly that the room seemed to lose some of the shine it once possessed.

Westwood’s head quickly turned to the other feminine voice along with another shudder of pain as his wounds reminded him further that he wasn’t ready to be moving quickly. When he saw Luna, he was just about dumbstruck. Everything about this second alicorn was absolutely stunning. His fist once again balled up to his chest and he attempted another bow to the second royal. This time however his body decided that it was finally time to give and he started to fall.

Lucien attempted rushing to aid his king back to his talons only for a bright light to appear in front of him and catch the draconian royal on her side, “My king. Are you well?” Luna’s voice almost blurting out in a shout from the sudden drop.

Westwood felt some relief on his body when the midnight blue alicorn propped him up against her body and forced him into a supported posture with her wing, “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Once we’re done here I’ll rest up and be good as new in a couple days.”

Luna scowled at the drake’s insistence to carry on despite looking like he was on the verge of collapse, “We cannot allow this my king. You will rest now. We have doctors in our wards.” Before Westwood could refuse again Luna added, “We shall not accept no for an answer.” Her tone commanded the black drake.

Celestia grimaced at the way her sister spoke to the Draconian royal and with the track record of other royals in the same lineage there was reason to worry.

Westwood however looked up into Luna’s eyes and let out a sigh of defeat as though compelled to do as the princess of the night commanded, “Yes ma’am.” Even though compelled, he didn’t seem upset about the fact it was her that did so.

ooo.OOO.ooo

“And that was how I met your grandmother” Westwood finished his story to the filly laying against her hoof-claws. Her bright eyes just about sparkling despite the lack of bright light inside the canvas wagon.

“Was it love at first sight?” Midnight Rain asked with a mystified expression plastered onto her face.

Westwood chuckled before rustling his grand-daughter’s mane, “Maybe for me. It took a while before your grandma warmed up to me.” He glanced at the time on his pipbuck with a sigh, “Well, story time’s over. I got to go back out there” He grabbed his power armor’s helmet and pulled the steel over his face while letting the software boot up on attachment.

Midnight huffed in disappointment at watching her long lost grandfather start leaving the cart, “But I want to hear more about grandma and old Equestria.” The filly griped before crossing her forelegs across her chest and scrunching her face up Westwood.

Westwood glanced outside while the lines of code and start up images finally vanished from his line of sight, “I promise when my next break comes I’ll tell you more stories. You might like how me and Luna’s first date went.”

The filly pouted her lip with the best set of puppy dog eyes she could muster, “Do you promise?”

Westwood smiled and nodded behind the emotionless mask his helmet had, “A knight never lies.” There was an air of bravado in his voice even past the buzzing behind his helmet as his fist beat into his chest.

Another armored head, this one of an equine shape, poked in through the slight opening between the canvas cover, “Westwood. Are you ready to go? It’s your turn to-” The voice of Starset buzzed past the helmet before her singular visor adjusted enough to see Midnight Rain sitting in the car with her grandfather. The filly in turn gave her best ‘I know I’m busted, please don’t yell at me’ smile, one that looked very practiced, “Father.” Her tone went from casual to authoritative, “Please go outside while I have a word with my daughter.”

Westwood immediately grabbed his carbine and sword before he jumped out the back of the wagon with a hard impact as his bulk hit the ground. His attention pulled straight ahead as Starset jumped into the canvas wagon and started yelling past a freshly constructed black barrier around the wagon. The lens of his visor updated with the typical EFS information once his suit’s software finally booted up. His compass covered in blue IFF indicators from both his four point squad and the caravan he and the other knights had been contracted to keep safe.

His squad had consisted of: Starset, Phenom, Freya, the grey gryphon he had ended up knocking unconscious in the slaver camp, and Revenant, a milky blue buck with equally milky eyes that spoke with some sort of odd reverb. The filly hybrid was obviously not supposed to be rolling along with the adults.

For now, it was a patrol. There would be plenty of talk once there was a break or they arrive at one of their designated rest stops along the way. Until then it was going to be something of a long and boring walk. At least it would be if the living shadow would shut his invisible mouth for a few minutes.

“Woooooody.” Nox started as his body formed next to the physically present body, “I’m booored.” He continued lengthening the words to emphasize the point.

Westwood groaned with a slight motion to disable his in helmet microphone, “Then find a way to entertain yourself.” He muttered under his breath so only his counterpart could hear him.

“But there’s nothing to do,” complained Nox, “I’ve already used the swimming pool and arcade machine so much that it’s gotten boring. That and your head is empty.” He passed an intangible claw through Westwood’s head and wiggling his intangible digits from the other side.

Westwood wanted desperately to swat at Nox, if only his present company wouldn’t think he was insane for swatting at the invisible cloud of black that only he could see, “Then what do you want me to do?” The drake’s voice started growling.

Nox’s body shifted until it resembled a statue of a thinking figure, “Well, how about some music. Might be cool to listen to what everyone listens to now.”

Westwood shifted his visor to look and stare at Nox, with a nervous look from the wagon driver hidden behind the mass of shadow, “If it’ll shut you up, fine. Let me just see if anything even runs out here.”

Lowering his carbine and clasping it to his web belt, Westwood turned his arm to set everything for the radio on his pipbuck. Light static filled his ear frills while the autotune function searched for the best signal present. Only a minute passed before Lucien’s familiar singing voice as well as an upbeat brass band started chiming through his audio function, nostalgia for the olden times started welling up as he listened to his friend's voice. Sadly only another thirty seconds were left before the music ended and a voice that sounded like the owner gargled broke glass, rubbing alcohol and lemon juice interrupted the music

“Greetings Western Wasters. Your favorite DJ ghoul Lone Wolf,” that voice was broken by an attempt at a howl that sounded almost as bad as the voice itself, “back with another report. Why so soon? Because we now have a name, or at least a title, to that crazy bastard that took on a full platoon of those Steel Raider bastards. How do I know this? Because, my favorite audience, this time I’ve got an eyewitness report from my favorite filly Swiffy.”

The sound of swishing wind broke the stallion’s voice and the microphone sounded like it had been knocked over by that same interruption, “Howdy ya’ll. Swiffy here. Yup, those big bad slaver fucks are outta here.” The radio broke into a synthetic applause and cheer, “And what’s more, the one that blew that camp to shreds was none other than our mystery badass, but this is where it gets fun because this guy isn’t a pony, or a gryphon, or a ghoul. No, this hardass is a giant winged lizard with a rifle and some sick ass black armor.”

The attempted clearing of a very damaged throat broke what sounded like someone going fan filly, “Yes, we got it. Looks impressive. Before you go out there and try and suck his dick, how about we get to the meat and potatoes of the subject.” Lone Wolf sounded off while Swiffy seemed to breath heavily past the microphone.

“Right right. I was getting to that ya rotten corpse.” Swiffy spoke with a mouth that really did not fit the age that she sounded, “No idea why he went there, but a dozen or so foals and a single mare were in the middle of all that bullshit. And the mare gave us something to work with. ‘Kind Devil’, sounds edgy as fuck if you ask me.”

“At least broadcast laws aren’t a thing anymore.” Lone Wolf grumbled under his breath though the microphone still caught everything, “Well, yeah. Kind Devil. If you’re out there. I owe you a drink. And maybe an interview if I loosen you up a bit. Anyway, cheers all. And give some thanks to that black armored lizard.” There was some brief silence, “Since that’s over, have some Cherry Poppers from the swing days of yesteryear. This go round, Zoot Suit Riot. A classic for the ages.”

Westwood’s gaze went straight forward while the conga drums started to play in his helmet, “Wow Woody. Barely a week out here and you’re already famous.” The shadow floated in front of Westwood acting like he was hovering a microphone in front of the drake’s face, “How do you do it?”

Westwood’s helmet betrayed the amount of effort it was taking not to shoot Nox right then and there, “You got what you wanted Nox. Now go away for a while.” The Shade marched straight through Nox as he picked up his pace to move more ahead to get an image of what the road ahead looked like. As he moved he spotted a few turned heads from Starset’s clients, it was then that he realized that there was a radio playing on the same radio station that he was listening to in his helmet. Idle chatter linking up with what the DJ spoke of clarified the fact that he had just become high profile.

That idle chatter was disturbed by Freya’s voice screaming, “Burnouts!” followed by the rapport of her anti-machine rifle. Many red hostile markers lit up the heads up display in Westwood’s helmet while he sprinted past the now still caravan. With each boom of the griffon’s weapon another marker vanished from sight, the long pause between the last shot telling him and the squad that she was reloading.

Westwood skid to a stop behind a newly shaped black barrier from his shadow. Once behind his newly crafted cover he aimed up at the first hostile he could find. Dozens of deranged looking ponies were in front of him dressed in makeshift armor labeled the hostiles as ‘Burnout Raiders’ were out about a hundred meters and closing quickly. His sights were focused on the first target and his claw squeezed the trigger.

A curtain of white lightning and gold flashes disrupted Westwood’s concentration and pulled his claw away from the trigger. A second later a winged bipedal figure in glittering golden armor seemed to have teleported from nothing with a long silver blade crackling with electricity drawn like he had just finished a swing. The figure then stood to full height and swung his blade at the ground, a swath of blood splashing off. The subtle clink of sword to sheath was replaced with the boom of thunder while the raiders fell apart in a crimson mist.

Westwood’s aim focused on the new target, only for the EFS in his vision registered it as friendly. His aim remained constant on the potential target as it walked closer to the crowd.

“Hey, those were our kills.” Freya jumped in front of Westwood’s line of sight forcing the drake to drop his aim, “Go get your own.” Her anti-machine rifle now slung across her back while she jabbed at the newcomer’s chest plate with each word.

The newcomer chuckled with something of an echo in his voice, “Sorry about that Freya, they got in the way of a contract. I just wanted it over and done with.” The archaic armor walked past the griffon and towards Westwood, “Calm yourself Shade, I’m not here for trouble.” Each step was punctuated with the sound of shifting plate armor.

Freya grabbed at the golden figure’s shoulder and forced him to turn him back to her, “No way. You want to talk to him, you talk to me first.”

The figure sighed before using the sheath to his sword to sweep Freya off her paws and drop her flat on her back, “My business isn’t with you Freya. Leave it be and I’ll be out of your fur, or is it feathers? It’s hard to tell with hybrid types.”

Freya growled before pulling herself up from the ground only to find the golden figure already a majority of the way to the black armored drake.

Westwood in turn stood up and focused his aim directly at the gold figure’s head. The gold figure merely chuckled at the action, “As I said, I’m not here for trouble. Merely a matter of a contract.” The golden biped lifted one claw lazily up in a half shrug, “One that you inadvertently fulfilled.”

Westwood cautiously lowered his carbine from the figure, “How about an introduction before you start talking about contracts.” The drake more or less demanded while slowly shifting his talons in the anticipation of a blow.

The gold figure froze a hearty laugh echoing from his helmet, “Where are my manners?” A clap of his claws later and the armor seemed to just fall apart at the figure’s talons. In front of him stood a near perfect mirror image of Westwood aside from a lack of scars and the distinct image of a priestly figure tattooed onto his right arm, “I,” the figure started while performing an over elaborate bow, “am Hierophant. One of the Grand Arcana.” Hierophant glanced up from his bowed posture, “And you need no introduction, Warlord of Shadow. You are quite the legend in the circles I travel.”

Westwood stepped back while his squad slowly pulled forward, though not in aggression like Freya had. Starset now had her helmet removed, “Messing around with contracts again Hierophant?” The mare asked with Rain perched atop her head.

“Hi Uncle Hero!” Midnight Rain called out while waving one of her hoof-claws to the formerly gold clad Shade.

Hierophant gave a friendly smile to the filly and waved his currently unoccupied claw before redirecting his attention to Starset, “Sorry for the interruption, had to find your father for a contract he fulfilled.”

Starset glanced at Westwood only for the black power armored shade to shrug his shoulders, “And the contract?”

Hierophant traced a circle with a single claw. His shadow jumped to meet with the claw tip to trace out a black circle in the air. A small, yet heavy bag jingled in his grasp before the hole closed and the shadow returned to the ground, “On Lovers, Emperor had found they were going into the slaving business.” He held the bag out to Westwood, who had lowered his guard after no one pulled a weapon up on the newcomer, “And you know how Emperor is about keeping the Arcana on the straight and narrow.”

The bag dropped into Westwood’s now waiting claw, “You have my thanks.” Westwood pressed his right claw over his chest with a respectful bow to Hierophant. His visor projected an image stating that he had acquired five hundred caps, and a reminder to try and turn all the flavor text off on his next break.

Hierophant in turn shook his head, “If anything, I should be thanking you Warlord for dealing with our problem before it grew to great.” There was a brief pause between the party before Hierophant broke the slowly growing silence, “Pardon Starset,” he bowed his head in the same respect he was shown by Westwood, “Might I speak with your father alone? You have a job to do, I can’t interfere with that.”

Starset gave a nod, her helmet floating along thanks to her own shifting shadow, “Don’t mind me then.” She whistled to the other knights, “Alright everyone. Show’s over. Hit the road.” The helmet slipped neatly over her head, “Black Knight, when you’re done here get your ass back up with the rest of us.”

Westwood gave a salute to Starset with the order, if just on instinct. With that the caravan started to move again, leaving the two shades alone while the wagons rolled.

Hierophant's pleasant smile never left, “It’s rather refreshing to find another Shade. Like finding a lighthouse in the vast ocean.” His smile however faded, “To business however. Emperor wishes to offer you one more contract if you so desire.”

Westwood lifted an eye ridge at the statement, even if Hierophant couldn’t see it past the emotionless visor, “Really now? It another of your band?” He asked folding his arms on his chest.

Hierophant nodded, “That it would be. This one however I believe you know from experience.”

Westwood tilted his head at the other shade, “Really now, and who would that be?”

“While he goes by the moniker of Devil in this day,” There was a brief pause, “you once knew him as Agni.”

With those words, Westwood lost any conversational tone left in his voice and stared directly at Hierophant, “Tell me where he is.” The voice came out as an order, not a request.

Hierophant shook his head, “I would if I knew Warlord. He is not so bold as to show where he hides, but there are others that are with him. If you find another renegade, perhaps they can tell you.”

Quest Added: A Matter of Succession

Mission parameters: Find and execute Agni, Warlord of Flame, for his transgressions.

With a small sigh in frustration at both the lack of information and the continuous streams of unnecessary text flooding his vision, “Then I’ll find him out there. I swear by it.” He held his claw to his chest and bowed as an olden time knight.

Hierophant in turn mirrored the former warlord’s actions, “I know you will Warlord. Now, head back to your daughter. You don’t want to fall too far behind.”

Westwood looked behind the other shade, “Right. Hope to see you again.” With a short wave, he took off into a full sprint towards the caravan that he had fallen far behind thanks to his conversation with Hierophant.

“Woody, you realize you can fly, right?” Nox’s voice rang into the back of Westwood’s head. The shade in turn merely scowled at the empty air beside him where the voice had resonated.

Hierophant watched the former ruler run after the group of covered wagons with a light hearted chuckle, “You have no need to worry Warlord of Shadow. We will see each other again.” His claw extended out in front of him as a magic circle of black light formed and filled with dark magic. He stepped into the viscous magic and vanished into the ether.

Night soon fell over the wastes and the caravan in turn had circled around into a defensive perimeter. The center had a bonfire roaring safely from the more flammable components of the wagons. Gathered around the fire were the caravan attendants laughing and enjoying the rather cool night air.

The knights had mostly decided to join in on what festivities there was clustered around the flames. Revenant had tossed off the dinged up looking suit of armor off and danced like an idiot, Freya decided to go about hoof, or arm, wrestling with the largest stallion amongst the caravan, Starset was having a chat with the caravan leader which slowly looked like it was turning into an argument, and Phenom didn’t seem to stand still for much longer than a few seconds as she just about bounced between groups with what looked like a party horn plastered to her face while blowing it out at other ponies in the crowds.

Westwood however kept his back to the wheel of one of the several wagons, his carbine clutched in his arms as he set himself down to the ground and his helmet the only piece of armor taken off of him. After all the time he had spent out in the battlefield, the posture felt almost natural. He merely sat there watching the merriment while he stayed away from the crowd. A smile slowly crept up the sides of his face while somewhat tightening his grip on his weapon.

“Grandpa?” Midnight Rain’s voice picked up over the dull noise around, “You okay?” Her head cocked to the side with her amber eyes staring seemingly into Westwood soul.

Westwood smirked at his newly discovered granddaughter and patted the dirt at his side, “I’m fine. Just a little nostalgic of the old days.”

Rain took a few steps and set her haunches where her grandfather patted down, “Nas-tall-gic? What’s that mean?” Her head still crooked in that cute angle that came close to stopping the veteran  dragon’s heart.

Westwood cleared his throat if mostly just to keep himself from succumbing to Rain’s face, “It means I remember the old days. Want to see it again I guess.” His grip on his weapon released and it was set onto the ground beside his leg, “Don’t mind me about it, I’m just being an old grandpa lizard.” His solemn face transformed into a wide, fang-filled smile.

 After a brief moment of semi-silence between the two, Rain jumped into Westwood’s lap and did her best to try and wrap her forelegs around the dragon’s wide chest. At least, wide for the filly hybrid. Westwood looked down at Rain and sighed before patting her head softly, “Trying to make grandpa feel better?”

Rain planted her chin up against the hard draconian steel plates, “Uh huh, is it working?” She asked keeping her eyes on the drake.

Westwood chuckled and ruffled up Midnight Rain’s mane, “Yeah, it’s working.” He slowly relaxed into the wagon behind him.

“Hugs always make mommy and daddy feel better. Especially when daddy hugs mommy.” Rain stated trying her hardest to squeeze against the forged armor.

Westwood couldn’t help but to let more of a laugh come up when she said that, “I do feel better. Thanks Midnight.” The drake’s claw slowly stroked Rain’s mane while the filly was still spread eagle on his chest.

Starset took several heavy steps towards her father and daughter, “Rain isn’t bugging you is she?”

Midnight Rain’s ears flattened up to her head and she leapt off of Westwood’s lap, “It’s fine Starset. Just a little family bonding.” The drake’s small, earnest smile confirmed what he said to Starset.

Starset glanced to Midnight who was silently nodding her head, “Well. If you don’t mind me joining in on this.” She planted herself down on the other side of the drake, “It’s not every day your famous dad springs from the ether right in front of you.”

Westwood chuckled under his breath, “I didn’t intend on disappearing like that.” There was some relief now that he had someone to talk to instead of just watching everything from a distance, “Trust me, if I knew I had a family I w-”

Starset bumped one of her forelegs into Westwood’s side, interrupting what felt like a mope session “Oh come on, don’t get sappy on me. Especially with your granddaughter listening to you.” She leaned forward to look at Rain, “Who should be going to bed soon so she’s not sleeping when we get to Cathedral City.”

Midnight grinned widely, like only a child knowing they were busted could, “Pleeeeeease mom. I want to stay up and stay with grandpa.”

The continuous reference to him being a grandfather was starting to make the drake fidget with the idea of being old, even for his actual age, “Midnight,” Westwood started with a soft pat on Midnight’s mane, “Listen to your mother. It won’t be long after sun up when we get there. If you’re good, I might get you something with the caps that Hierophant gave me.”

The hybrid filly’s ears perked up at the idea of a gift, “You promise?” There was something about fillies that seemed to maximize how cute they could be with a simple look of the eyes.

Westwood softly poke at Midnight’s snout, “Only if you behave for the rest of the trip. That I can promise.”

Midnight seemed to almost bounce up to a standing position, “Okay grandpa. I’ll be a good filly and go to bed.” There was one more hug wrapped around Westwood’s arm before bounding off to the wagon that seemed to be where the other young ones were sleeping.

Starset let an almost grumbling laugh eek from her throat at the excitable Midnight, “Something tells me that if the war didn’t happen, I would be a very spoiled little princess.”

Westwood in turn returned with another mirthful laugh, “Maybe. Thought that might just be the grandpa in me acting up.” His more able vision watched as Midnight twirled in place before just about slamming herself down on the wood, “God I feel old.”

Starset jabbed at Westwood’s side again, this time with a little extra oomph to it, “Well you are about two-hundred some odd years, feeling old should just come natural at this point.” She joked at the drake whom returned her jab with one of his own.

“That’s still pretty young for lizards like me.” Westwood took a hold of his carbine and started to stand, “You guys rest up. I’ll take first watch.” He pulled back the charging handle just enough to see the round in the chamber.

“No, you’re going to sit your tail down and get some real sleep.” The tone almost reminded the drake of Luna’s more commanding tone, maybe a trait that she picked up from her mother, “No. Passing out from blood loss does not count as Celestia damned rest.”

Westwood released a mirthful chuckle in response, “If you were Luna, that probably would have worked.” The helmet sealed over his head with all of the normal boot up text that came with the heads up display, “I’ll go get Freya when my hour’s up. You get some rest. Dad’s order.” His careful steps guided him out from between the circled wagons and into the oddly calm space outside.

The night fell silent once the brief get together had finished up inside of the circle. The orange light of the flame died soon after leaving the former leader alone with his thoughts while he patrolled around the wide circle of covered wagons. A wide splotch of blue glowed in the corner of his vision displaying the entire party inside. The lack of motion signalled they were asleep.

The drake’s head shifted out to the distance beyond the perimeter watching for potential threats on the horizon. The patrol was interrupted by a digitized voice behind him, “Getting popular already?”

Westwood pivoted on the ball of his talon and pointed the business end of his carbine at the source. Only to see a small metal ball buzzing tiny wings in front of him. His aim lowered seeing the bug like robot with his head cocked in a degree of confusion, “What’s a sprite-bot doing out here?” He mostly asked himself.

“They’re actually more common than you think.” The voice chirped out again, somewhat quieter this time like someone turned down the volume.

With a groan, Westwood dropped his aim with the weapon clasped to his belt, “Really Watcher? You nearly gave me a heart attack when you used my radio, sneaking up on me isn’t much better.”

The robot merely hovered in its place with no other reaction, “I would have used your communications if you hadn’t reset the encryption.” The voice spoke matter of factly at Westwood.

Westwood huffed with a solid glare at Watcher, the glare having no effect since his face was hidden behind the concealing polymer lens, “I assume this is some sort of follow up after you gave me false information regarding that last mission. If you were to have told me the truth about what was going on, I would have gone in there with a search and rescue mindset. Maybe not have gone in there and caused a small scale genocide.” The drake’s arms folded across his chest with tense muscles.

“I...just had to be sure. There have been others. They claimed to be the Black Knight of the war. That was the only way to be sure.”

Westwood growled past his helmet’s voice amplifier with a snap of his claws to grab and force the camera into his face, “Had to be sure? If I hadn’t gotten lucky with that last radio call out then I wouldn’t even be having this conversation with you.” His grip tightened on the steel casing, several loosened bolts popping loose from the chassis, “Ten foals and an innocent queen would have been trapped there still if that hadn’t happened.” His claws sunk into the steel, “And you just had to be sure.”

It was nearly a disappointment that Watcher didn’t seem to react to the spritebot collapsing under the drake’s strength, “As much as you don’t like it Westwood. I d-” The voice didn’t even get a chance to finish before Westwood slammed the hovering machine into the ground as hard as he could. His claw slammed hard into the ground until the robot was nothing more than heaps of scrap metal and wire still dangling on his claw tips.

Westwood’s breathing picked up as his anger seethed through his actions. The stifling nature of his helmet caused him to breath heavily as the rage passed with the destruction to the spritebot remains in his claws. His chest heaved with every breath he forced through his helmet.

Soft hoof steps approached the enraged Westwood, a fuschia hoof placed on his shoulder while he was hunched down, “Um, Westwood. Are you okay?” Phenom uttered in a weak voice.

There was only silence between the two of them for a minute before the helmet shifted to see the entirely bare Phenom at his side, “I’m fine.” He shrugged his shoulder loose from Phenom’s hoof before standing straight, “I thought you were asleep.”

Phenom rubbed the hoof that was on his shoulder on her opposite fetlock, “I had a little difficulty sleeping. Then I heard you talking to that robot. I’m actually sort of surprised that you didn’t wake everypony up when you started smashing it.”

Westwood took in a long, deep breath to ease his nerves, “Sorry. Maybe everything just starting to catch up to me.” His eyes shifted to the time in the corner of his display, “I’m going to wake up Freya for her shift.”

Phenom stayed close to the shade while he walked away again, “Do you promise that you’ll eventually talk to us? I don’t need to see your face to know something’s bugging you.”

Westwood picked up his pace back inside the inner circle. He didn’t want to answer her, at least not right now.

------------------------------------------------

Update Authorized: No combat experience recorded

No New Perks Authorized

Current Party:

Starset: Hybrid Draconian Commander

Freya: Gryphon Sharpshooter

Phenom: Enclave Mechanic and Repair Specialist

Revenant: Heavy Ordnance Disposal and Utilization

Faction Discovered:

Grand Arcana- Faction Status set to Neutral

Burnouts- N/A, Raider Faction Hostile To All