Fallout Equestria: Crystal Hearts

Chapters

1.0: Prelude
1.1: Overture
1.2: Crescendo
1.3: Canticle
1.4: Reverie
1.5: Adagio
1.6: Accelerando
1.7: Nocturne
1.8: Requiem
1.9: Elegy
1.10: Cadence
2.0: Fairchild Casino Royale
2.1: Strangers in a Wasteland
2.2: The Hoarder, the Raider, and the Hellhound
2.3: The Maltese Unicorn
2.4: Brave New Settlement
2.5: Catch.22
2.6: Flowers For Orchestra
2.7: Lord Of The Vulpas
2.8: The Tell-Tale Battle Saddle
2.9: Packrat's Ark
3.0: City of the Rising Sun
3.1: Lyra in the Sky with Diamonds
3.2: Walk like an Equestrian
3.3: Comfortably Numb
3.4: Ugoku, Ugoku

1.0: Prelude

"I don't enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it's just a chore, like any other."

The snow crunched beneath their hooves as four companions marched on. They were led by a unicorn, whose white coat made her nearly invisible in the snow. Only the pale blue light of her horn and the soft crunching of her hooves gave away her presence.

"She's crazy," one of the companions whispered to another. "How can she trot through this weather without barding?"

"She says it helps her when she's tracking. Something about being in tune with the Goddess."

The two of them quickly bowed their heads, and placed their hooves over their hearts at the mention of the word "Goddess."

"Speaking of being more in tune, ‘Chestra, maybe the two of us should take off our scarves and barding to get in tune with each other. I hear it's a great way of conserving body heat."

Despite her shivering, Orchestra couldn't help but blush. Thankfully, her companion couldn't see it underneath her scarf.

"My name is Orchestra. And if you want to be warm so badly then how about you shut your mouth, Joab. You let body heat escape every time you open it." I have no idea if that’s true or not, but hopefully it’ll get him to shut up.

"But I'm just so bored!" Joab whined. He threw his head back, and stuck his tongue out to catch a snowflake. The instant it touched his tongue he shivered, and pulled it back into his mouth. "But every time I try to do something I just get cold. Why can't this be easy?"

"Because if this were an easy task the Goddess would have not have bequeathed it to us."

Orchestra and Joab both bowed their heads, and touched their chests at the word Goddess. When Orchestra lifted her head she looked into the large brown eyes of Deacon. Despite the cold, she felt warm as she gazed upon the elderly stallion’s smile. Deacon turned to Joab, and Orchestra noticed a book levitating beside him.

"I can understand your impatience, my son. I was young once too, eager to prove that I was worthy to follow in the Holy Mother’s hooves. But that is why she tests us. Many have faith, but few will follow their faith into a storm. Remember, only those who will blindly follow can truly walk the path of piety."

"Amen," Orchestra whispered.

Deacon levitated the Book in front of him, and placed a hoof onto its crystal cover. "There will be hazards upon the path, my children. The disease of doubt may infect your mind. Devils, who have scorned our Goddess, will try and seduce you away from her. But you must not give into doubt. You must not be seduced. And you must purge the devils as if you were her own sword."

Orchestra instinctively lifted her right foreleg, and stared at the kirpan strapped to her boot. As she looked upon the blue handle she thought of a particular stallion. She thought of his azure coat, and how dirty it had been on the day he was born. She thought of his deep, yet gentle voice singing to keep her spirits up. Finally, she thought of the slash across his throat when he dared to protect the temptress who had stolen his very soul. The tears that washed down her face turned to crystals of ice as she thought of her little brother.

"You're right, Father. We must purge them all."

Especially that heathen wench!

Deacon chuckled lightly, and pointed towards their tracker. "It looks as if Purity will be giving us that chance soon enough."

Orchestra turned to see the white unicorn hunched over, prodding the snow with her hooves.

"Have you found anything, my child?" Deacon asked as he trotted towards Purity.

The tracker held up her hoof to signal silence, and he obliged. Orchestra silently approached Deacon’s side to observe her companion at work. She noticed multiple sets of hoofprints in the snow, which seemed to show the passing of five ponies. Purity touched her nose to the prints, and inhaled deeply. Orchestra looked over at Deacon with a raised eyebrow, but the old stallion merely shook his head with a smile.

"There are five of them," Purity finally said.

"Did you tell that from sniffing the snow?" Joab had joined them, and was standing in front of Purity with a sneer on his face.

Purity raised her head, but her eyes were focused on Deacon. "From the size of the tracks I can tell we're following three full grown stallions, one fully grown mare, and a foal." Without looking she pointed to the three largest tracks. "Judging from how deep the impressions are, I believe two of the stallions are crystal earth ponies."

"What of the third?" Deacon asked.

Purity shook her head. "I can't tell. His tracks are so erratic I can't tell if the impressions are due to being a crystal pony, a regular earth pony, or an idiot who enjoys stomping through the snow."

"You can tell all that just from their tracks. That's amazing, Purity!" Orchestra said.

Joab snorted, and rolled his green eyes. "Oh yes, this is so very interesting. What's next? Are you going to tell me the color of his mane?"

"Joab, why don't you just calm down?” Orchestra snapped. “We have to know if these are the right ponies or not. And if they are, it's best to know how many we're dealing with,"

"But do you really care how many there are, and what type of pony they are, ‘Chestra? We’ll purge them all regardless of their numbers or types."

"Black," Purity said suddenly.

"What?" Joab asked, looking down at her.

Purity sighed, and turned to him. "You asked for the color of his mane, and there's your answer. It's black."

Joab's sneer slowly melted from his face, and was replaced by a large grin. He began to chuckle lightly, but after a few moments it evolved into a full taunting cackle. "Black! Black she says! Can you two believe this crazy mare? She's so good she can tell the color of his mane from smelling his hoof prints." Joab threw his head back as his laughter grew more intense. "Did Nero give us a good tracker or what?"

Purity ignored him, and continued her assessment. "Since I use hoof size to determine gender, I can't be sure as to whether the foal is a colt or filly. Its tracks aren’t yet big enough for that distinction. Though I can say with certainty it is a crystal pegasus."

"A pegasus? Really?" Orchestra asked.

"How can you tell?" Deacon added.

Purity looked at the smaller set of tracks, and levitated a small crystalized feather.

"Common sense," she answered with a small smile.

"And what about the mare? Can you tell me if she's hot from her prints?" Joab asked, finally finished with his laughter.

Purity's blue eyes hardened, and her voice turned as cold as the snow. "She's the infidel Orchestra has been searching for."

Despite the cold, Orchestra felt a warmth inside her gut. Almost as if the Holy Mother had lit a holy fire within her soul. She felt even warmer when Deacon touched his hoof to her shoulder.

"Are you certain of this, Purity? I don't want Orchestra to get excited over a false alarm."

Purity pointed to the final set of tracks with a nod. "These tracks don't sink into the snow nearly as much as the stallions’. Even if she were light on her hooves, they would sink more if she were a crystal pony. And I can prove to you she's a unicorn."

"How?" Joab asked.

Purity smirked at him, cocking her head towards the last set of tracks. "Because when I do this." She paused as the light around her horn went out. As soon as her magic faded one set of tracks disappeared. "They vanish. Only a unicorn could use magic to hide their tracks."

"That sneaky cunt." Joab spat. He then looked up at Deacon, and bowed his head. "Forgive my language, Father."

Deacon levitated out the Book, and placed one of his hooves on it. "By the power vested in me from our Goddess divine, I forgive you, my child." His lips then curled into a grimace as he added, "Although I do believe your word choice was accurate in this instance."

Orchestra nodded, and placed her own hoof where the infidel’s had been. The print was slightly bigger than her own, which matched the mare she was looking for. "Are they fresh?"

Purity shrugged. "It depends on how you define fresh. These tracks are at least thirty-six hours old, but that's being generous. I'd say they're closer to sixty."

"Then we better get moving." Orchestra began walking when she felt Joab's hoof on her shoulder.

"Come on, 'Chestra. I know you want to catch her, but we should probably try and rest for the night. We're only a couple days behind, and the sun should be setting soon. Remember what Deacon was saying earlier about patience?"

Orchestra pulled down her scarf as she rounded on Joab. The force of her movement knocked him onto the snow. He rubbed his flank, and narrowed his eyes.

"What did you do that fo—"

The look on Orchestra's face silenced him. Her eyes bore into him like the knife she wore in her boot, and her lips were twisted into a snarl that would make even an Ursa Major cower. She pointed to a series of stitches across her dull yellow temple.

"That harlot hit me in the head with a lyre. A solid. Gold. Lyre. And when she did she split my head open. Had it not been for Deacon's surgical prowess I'd probably be a vegetable right now. Not to mention this is the same harlot who made me slash my own brother's throat." Orchestra took a step towards Joab, and bent down to meet him at eye level. "If you want to rest then you go right ahead. You're already sitting on your flank. But the sun hasn't set yet; I know I have a few more hours left in me. I'm not going to waste them, not while that harlot is still trotting around."

Orchestra glanced at Purity after fixing her scarf. "Which way?"

Purity stood up, and looked towards the south. "It's the only direction they could have gone if they want to the leave the Crystal Wasteland."

"And what in their tracks told you they want to leave?" Joab asked as Deacon helped him to his hooves.

Purity shook her head as if the answer was obvious. "Nothing. It only took common sense. She's an infidel in a small party. Odds are she found a few disenchanted believers, and seduced them to leave with her." She then smiled at Orchestra, and gave her a small nudge with her rump. "Besides, where else could she go, after angering the most ferocious of the True Cadanites?"

Despite her anxiety, Orchestra couldn't help but smile as she watched Purity walked by. She has such a great flank. The spyglass cutie mark is weird though. It's the only part of her body that isn't white. Well, except for those baby blues.

Suddenly Purity stopped moving. "Oh, and Joab."

He glanced at her as she levitated a thin strand of hair in front of his eyes. It was black.

"I don't need to smell hoofprints to tell mane color. All it takes is a little common sense," she said as she sauntered away.

That made Orchestra laugh even harder, and even Deacon couldn't resist a chuckle. And although she couldn't see his face under his scarf, Orchestra was sure Joab's cheeks were red and puffy as he followed after the white unicorn.

***

Orchestra's body ached with every step she took. She had been right about having a few more hours left in her tank, but that tank was running on fumes. The sun had started setting roughly twenty minutes ago, and it would be getting dark soon. She lethargically raised her hoof to take another step, but set it back down in place.

"What's the matter, 'Chestra; you tired already? I can go another ten miles without even breaking a sweat."

Orchestra took a gander behind her to see Joab barely trudging along. His head was low, and his movements were even slower than hers. Maybe we should have rested earlier.

She took a few steps backwards, and pressed her face into his neck. "Keep your head up, Joab. A Cadanite never looks down in the face of adversity."

"But it gives me such a perfect view of your rump."

Orchestra flushed; she lashed out at Joab's legs with her tail. He tripped and landed on his belly, while she walked away.

"The view's even better from down here."

She slapped her face with her hoof, and prayed Purity would find something soon.

"I've found something."

Goddess be praised!

Purity was standing upon a rock with a spyglass levitating in front of her eye. Deacon stood next to her using his own magic to hold a pair of binoculars.

"Is that smoke?" he rasped.

Orchestra flinched at the sound of his voice. He sounds even worse than me and Joab. If we don’t stop soon he mi—Wait a second? Smoke?! She felt the adrenaline kick in as she raced towards the two of them.

"You found smoke? Is it the infidel?"

"Just a moment." Purity paused as she twisted her spyglass with her hoof. Orchestra noticed the unicorn's frown, and braced herself for bad news.

"Well, I've got good news and bad news," she said as she levitated the spyglass over to Orchestra.

Orchestra stood on her back legs, clasped the spyglass in-between her forelegs, and took a peek.

"The good news is I've found us some shelter for the night. There's a cottage less than a league away, well within Deacon's teleport range."

She calls this a cottage? That’s nicer than my place!

Most houses in the Crystal Wasteland had been constructed using wood, stone, metal, or some combination of the three. The house Orchestra used to share with her brother had been made of stone, but had wooden floors. While some houses were built using actual gems, garnet was by far the most prominent. But this was the first time Orchestra had ever seen a house made of quartz.

The quartz reflected the colors of the sky, and looked as if the house had been kissed by the sunset. The bottom of the house was a fiery red, but the color grew progressively lighter, and more orange, further up. Like some blocks of quartz, there were spikes coming out of the sides of the house.

What’s with the spikes? Maybe they prevent attackers from flanking the house? Or maybe they’re just there to look cool. In addition to the spikes, she noticed a large tower jutting up from the corner of the shingled roof. Similar to the rest of the building, the color changed the closer it got to the top. The tower started as an orange hue, but subtly changed into gold. And at the very top was smoke! Oh Goddess, is the house on fire? Is that why it’s so orange and red? And that golden flame…

"And pray tell, what would the bad news be?" Deacon asked.

"The smoke is coming from the cottage."

"I noticed. It’s a lovely chimney," he mused.

Oh. Orchestra sighed in relief, and muttered a quick prayer of thanks to the Goddess that her potential shelter wasn’t on fire.

"So what's the problem then?" Joab barked, sounding more annoyed than usual.

"If the fire was not coming from the cabin then it could give us an idea of where they were located. Unless they could find some shelter further along, they would most likely need to build a fire to survive the cold. However, the fire is coming from the cottage and the infidel should be past this point by now. Use your common sense, Joab."

Orchestra's ears drooped, and she looked away from the spyglass. "And you’re sure they’re not at the cottage?"

Orchestra felt the weight of the spyglass leave her hooves as it was levitated back to its owner, and promptly stuffed into a saddlebag.

"Not one hundred percent, no. More like eighty-five. I estimate those tracks to be a couple days old, yet even without teleportation we could reach the cottage in a couple hours. Unless the infidel has decided to stay there for the last couple days she should be long gone."

Orchestra hung her head with a sigh. "I suppose it could be worse. At least we have an idea of how far behind we are. I say we go there now, and stay the night. Anypony have any objections?"

Purity and Joab shook their heads, while Deacon simply sighed.

"I need a moment to gather myself before I can perform the spell."

"Of course, Father," Orchestra replied with a bow of her head.

Deacon gave her a weak smile before putting the binoculars into his saddlebags. In their place retrieved his Book. He placed a hoof on its cover, and beckoned the others to do the same. Orchestra and the other two approached the book, and each reverently placed a hoof on the crystal cover. They closed their eyes and bowed their heads, as Deacon began to pray.

"Holy Mother, I pray you will listen to your servant's humble prayer. I ask first that you would find it in your heart to forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us."

Orchestra touched a hoof to her chest in silent agreement.

"I also pray you would look upon me with favor, and grant me some of your divine energy, so that I may use it to give my companions shelter for the night." Brown light enveloped Deacon's horn as he began to cast the spell. "May your light shine forever, and may the Crystal Heart be ever pure. In the holy name of Cadance I pray, Amen.”

"Amen," the other three echoed, and disappeared in a brown flash.

***

After a second flash of light, the companions arrived at their destination. Orchestra took her hoof off of the Book and used it to rub her head. "Everypony make it?" she asked.

"I should hope so. I don't believe I have the energy for a second trip."

Orchestra opened her eyes, and gasped at the sight of Deacon. The elderly stallion was hunched over and panting. The blood that trickled from his lips started to drip onto the snow covered ground.

"Deacon!" Orchestra lunged towards him, and leaned her shoulder under his chest for support. "Are you alright?"

Deacon smiled at her. "Of course, my child. I would not be ordained in the Church of Cadance if—" He was forced to stop talking as a fit of coughing overtook him. He pressed a hoof against his mouth to contain the coughing. But it wasn't enough. Orchestra heard a gagging noise, and a thick glob of blood was sprayed onto the ground.

"I've got a healing potion, ‘Chestra!" Joab cradled a small round bottle of liquid in his hooves. He ripped the cork out with his mouth, and shoved the bottle into Deacon's mouth. Deacon happily gulped down the potion, and spat out the bottle once he had finished.

"May the Goddess.” He paused to start coughing, but thankfully no blood came up. “May she bless you both for helping me."

"And may she damn Purity for ignoring you," Joab muttered.

Deacon eyes hardened; he slapped Joab with his hoof, tearing away part of Joab's scarf. The younger male took a step back, and massaged his dark blue cheek.

"We do not, I repeat, do not damn our fellow Cadanites, Joab. It is our duty to support one another, just as the two of you have just done for me. If we begin to turn on each other then we are no better than the infidels.”

He’s right, we Cadanites need to look after each other. But why isn’t Purity helping us with Deacon?

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the white unicorn knocking on the door of the house.

"Hello?” Purity called. “Is there anypony in there?"

Orchestra heard hoofsteps move towards the door, and the creaking of the door opening.

"May I help you?"

The speaker was out of her line of sight, but the voice sounded like a mare's. She was most likely a teenager or young adult. And if Joab's expression was anything to go by, she was a cute one too.

"Yes." That was Purity talking. "My companions and I have been making a pilgrimage. We've been walking all day, and could use some shelter for the night. We'd hate to be a burden, but would greatly appreciate your hospitality."

"Of course. Any Cadanite is welcome into our home. Your timing is perfect since we just started din—Oh my! What happened to him?"

"Father Deacon's age has made him more susceptible to fatigue."

The snow crunched as the mare made her way to Deacon. Orchestra’s guess had been right; she was cute. She had freckles, large brown eyes, and both her mane and tail were tied in a ponytail. Orchestra wasn't a big fan of the mare's green coat, nor the white streaks in her otherwise aqua ponytails, but at least she was a crystal mare.

The green mare lowered her head onto Deacon's chest, and held it there for a few seconds. "Your heart rate seems stable, but I need to check your lungs. Could you take a deep breath for me, sir?”

Deacon attempted to oblige, but another fit of coughing overcame him.

The mare grimaced. “Oh dear, I need to get you inside.” She looked at Joab. “I’m going to need you to help support him.” She then looked at Orchestra. “And if you have any healing potions left he could certainly use them.”

Deacon chuckled dryly. “Do I really look so bad, Doctor?”

The mare shook her head as she and Joab trudged towards the door, each with one of Deacon’s forelegs around their shoulders. “No, you actually don’t. But I’d rather you take some potions to prevent a possible chest infection. After all, nopony has ever died from too many healing potions, right?” The mare’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she added, “And I’m no doctor. That would be my mother.”

And she has the cutest blush. Honestly, why did Symphony have to fall for a heathen harlot when there are mares like this in the congregation? She seems so nice. As she and Joab walked by, Orchestra noticed the mare’s healing potion cutie mark. She's so nice her special talent is helping ponies. She would have been perfect for my brother.

Orchestra trotted behind them, fished a healing potion out of her saddlebag. Joab and the mare stopped walking as Deacon gulped down the potion, and continued on once he spat it out.

The mare's horn glowed brown as she swung open the door. She and Joab trudged into the house with Deacon, who was now in the middle of another fit of coughing.

"Mom, I'm going to need some help here!"

"What fo—Oh my, Cecelia! What happened to him?"

"Heavy fatigue, and his lungs don't sound too good."

"His lungs you say? I have a poultice for that. Take him upstairs to the recovery room while I brew it."

Orchestra could hear the mother running into another room, while Joab and Cecelia carried Deacon out of the doorframe. Cecelia. Even her name is beautiful. Damnit, Symphony. Why couldn't you have just ignored that heathen?

Orchestra was about to follow them into the house when she noticed Purity staring at something in the snow. "Find anything interesting?"

"Hmm?" Purity raised her head, and looked curiously at Orchestra.

"I asked if you found anything interesting. You looked like you were staring pretty intently."

Purity shook her head, and shuffled towards the door. "Nothing I feel I should share."

Nothing I feel I should share? That's a suspicious choice of words. Orchestra raised an eyebrow at Purity, but the white unicorn simply walked on by. Orchestra rolled her eyes, and followed. She would have sighed as well if the interior of the house hadn't taken her breath away.

Like the outside, most of the inside was made of sunset-colored crystal. The floors, walls, ceiling, and even the stairs. Each individual step had its own color, with red being at the bottom and the top step being gold. From where Orchestra was standing it looked like most of the second floor’s walls were gold as well.

"I'm going up to check on Deacon," Purity said as she began to climb the stairs.

"Alright, I'll see you in a little bit," Orchestra replied as she took off her boots. Now what should I do? I should go help Cecelia's Mother make the poultice, but I want to explore this room first. It's gorgeous!

She looked down at the floor. What wasn’t crystal was covered by one of the twin rugs. The first was directly in front of the door, and depicted the Crystal Palace. At each of the Palace's dormers stood one of the High Priests. She recognized most of them, especially the black unicorn with the pale eyes standing on the balcony: Nero.

The second rug was located in the center of the room. Orchestra trotted up to it, and noticed the design was of the Crystal Heart hovering over the High Priests. They stood in a circle around the Heart, and each of them was holding a book. It was the same book Deacon had in his possession: The Book of Cadance. Orchestra placed a hoof on her heart, and bowed her head. Even if it is just a rug design I should still show my reverence.

When she lifted her head, she observed the area around the rug. It had been placed near a small brown sofa that looked like it could only fit two ponies comfortably. Opposite the sofa was a crackling fire within a stone fireplace. Huh. Something that isn't actually made of crystal. Neither was the sofa, but the fireplace had been carved into the wall so it was strange to see it made of a different material. Odd design choice. Maybe it makes up for it by burning crystal instead of wood. Upon further inspection, however, Orchestra discovered there was in fact wood in the fireplace. Well that's no fun.

She turned away from the fireplace, and gazed upon the last two sets of furniture in the room. The first was a varnished red table with a similarly varnished chair on each side. I guess it’s just Cecelia and her mother living here. I can relate to that.

A couple steps away from the table stood an armoire. Behind its transparent doors were sparkling dishes and utensils crafted from crystal. It’s sparkling? The crystal must have been irradiated then. She raised one of her hooves to her face, grimacing at the dull yellow color. I could use a dip in some rads myself. My complexion is terrible. As she lowered her hoof, she noticed a picture on top of the armoire. In order to see it better she took a few steps back.

It was of three crystal ponies, a unicorn stallion and filly with an earth pony mare standing in front of the Crystal Palace. The stallion had a hoof around each of the mares, and a massive smile on his face. His body was the same shade of green as Cecelia’s, who coincidentally was standing on his right. She was just a foal in this picture, yet her smile was almost as big as his. And it was complete with braces. Now that’s adorable.

The mare on the left was gorgeous and pink. She was wearing a nurse’s outfit, which contrasted well against her long black mane. It didn’t do her flank any disservice either. The uniform clearly had not been designed to cover flanks like hers. In fact, it seemed to accentuate her stethoscope cutie mark. That outfit was practically inviting Orchestra to stare, which she did.

“Her eyes are up there.”

Orchestra jumped at Purity’s voice. The powdery-white unicorn was standing next to her, and looking at the picture with a knowing smirk on her face.

Orchestra was thankful she was still wearing her scarf so Purity wouldn’t see her blush.

“How did yo… not that I was… uh… it’s a nice picture.”

Purity raised an eyebrow. “Really? I find it to be quite sad.”

Orchestra looked back at the smiling faces. “And why’s that?”

Purity gently levitated the picture in front of Orchestra. “Common sense, Orchestra. Tell me, what do you notice about the stallion?”

Orchestra rubbed her chin with her hoof for a few moments. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she shrugged. “He looks happy.”

“And?”

“And he’s green.”

Purity rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Do you not see the scar above his heart?”

Orchestra kept her shrug. “So what? My foalsitter’s husband had one too. He said it caused other drunks to think twice.”

“You’re not seeing the big picture here, Orchestra. Yes, he looks happy; he also shares his coat color with Cecelia. This would imply he’s a close relative. Given the presence of the pink unicorn, I would assume he would be Cecelia’s father and this would be her mother. Do you follow?”

Orchestra nodded. “Which would make them a happy family. Hence, nice picture.” Where was Purity going with this?

“So, I put it to you. If they’re a happy family, then where’s the father now?”

Oh.

“I haven’t heard his voice, so I assume he’s not in the house. Nor did I see the tracks of a crystal unicorn outside. The only logical conclusion is that he’s dead.”

Orchestra’s went wide, and her mouth gaped open. “Whoa, what? Why does that automatically mean he’s dead? He could be out on business and his tracks disappeared, or out visiting somewhere, or… something!”

“Because of that scar.” Purity levitated the picture back into place. As she did so, a sad smile took hold of her face. “My mother had one just like it. It was given to her when her doctor operated on her heart. She survived the initial operation, but died of complications a few months later. There's a good chance he underwent a similar surgery; I can tell by the incision. It's too thin and precise to be a regular scar. Common sense tells me it was made by a scalpel. I saw one upstairs when I checked on Deacon, and the cut matches the type of blade."

"How is he by the way?"

Purity shrugged. "I'm not a medical pony, so I can't say for sure. Cecelia doesn't seem too worried though. Hopefully he makes a swift recovery."

"I'll pray that he does." Orchestra closed her eyes, and bowed her head. Holy Mother, I humbly beseech you to look after my friend, Deacon. I know he's a strong pony, and with your blessing he's sure to recover soon. Please grant his body rest and his mind ease during this process. In your name I pray, Amen. She lifted her head. "It's in her hooves now."

"Hers and mine."

The mare who trotted beside Orchestra nearly made her gasp; it was the same pink mare from the picture. There were a few differences though between her in pony and in the picture. First, the flattering nurse's outfit had been swapped for a dull apron. That's disappointing. She also looked older now, and a few wrinkles had appeared around her face. Orchestra also noticed her flowing black mane was shorter and done up in a bun, but the front was still long enough to veil her eyes. She whipped her head sideways, and her hair practically danced out of her eyes to reveal their lilac color.

"Would you mind carrying this for me? I'm afraid of dropping it."

Orchestra stopped gawking long enough to notice the tray atop the mare's head. On it was a steaming bowl of soup with a spoon, one of the shining crystal bowls no less, and a piece of cloth drenched in leaves and oil. Guessing that's the poultice.

"I'll take it," Orchestra offered. The mare dipped her head, and Orchestra picked up the tray with her front hooves. "Alright. I've got it."

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Orchestra." She cocked her heads towards Purity. "That's Purity. Deacon is our priest, and the moron is Joab."

The mare curtsied. "Nice to meet you all. I'm Teresa. Now, Orchestra, would you kindly take that up the stairs?"

Orchestra nodded, and made her way to the stairs. She wasn't used to walking on her backlegs but she could use the practice. You never know when a skill might come in handy. Her steps were slow, but she was making progress. Now comes the hard part. Stairs. Orchestra couldn't see where her hooves were due to the tray, making every step a risk. Alright. Here I go.

She was about to take a step when she felt a weight lift off her hooves. A blue glow surrounded the tray, and it levitated above her head.

"Purity, I got this," she huffed.

"As true as that may be, this will get done much quicker if I use my magic." Purity nudged past Orchestra, and climbed the stairs with Cecelia's mother going behind her. At least I get a good view from here.

After making her way up the stairs, Orchestra followed the two down a hallway. They passed by two doors Orchestra had been sure led to Deacon's room. Guess not. One thing she had been right about was her deduction about the walls. Up here they were all gold, as was the tapestry she spotted at the end of the hallway. Its design made her nearly collapse in reverence.

Embroidered onto the tapestry was the Holy Mother herself. She was standing on her backlegs, with her forelegs stretched out horizontally and her wings unfurled. In her left hoof she was holding the Crystal Heart, while The Book of Cadance was in her right.

"That is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," Orchestra gasped.

"My husband made it. He may have been useless with a broom or dustpan, but he could work magic with a needle or a knife."

"A knife? Was he a good cook as well?" Purity asked.

A large smile appeared on Teresa's face. She started to laugh, but put a hoof on her lips in an attempt to stifle it. It didn't work.

"Please, forgive me, dear. But..." Her hoof dropped as she let out her laughter. "But my husband was the poorest excuse for a chef in all of the Crystal Wasteland. One time he... he..." She was crying with how hard she was laughing. She wiped her eyes with her hoof before continuing. "One year, for our anniversary, he surprised me with breakfast in bed. But he burnt everything. He even burnt the juice!" She laughed the hardest at that, before grimacing and clutching her side. "I think I laughed a bit too hard."

Orchestra and Purity shared a glance before commenting.

"What?"

"I didn't know you could burn juice."

"Neither did I, but he managed to do it. So to answer your question, no. My husband was not a cook, but a crystal smith. He crafted everything in that armoire downstairs by himself. And he did a lot of the work on this house, though he did have some friends help him with it.

"A smith and a weaver. He sounds like quite a catch," Orchestra commented. Especially compared to somepony like Joab.

The laughter had left Teresa’s eyes, and had been replaced with a sense of resignation.

"That he was. That he was."

She pulled back the tapestry, and revealed a bedroom. On the opposite side of the room were Joab and Cecelia. Joab was sitting down on a nightstand. He had removed his scarf and barding, allowing Orchestra to get a good look at him for the first time in almost a day. The dark blue stallion was impressively muscled, yet his face looked haggard from the journey. I'm sorry, Joab. She also noticed despite his build, his face resembled that of a colt's. The bright green eyes, and messy black mane were the biggest reasons why. Still he is handsome. I'll give him that.

Joab caught her gaze, and then darted his eyes down to the rifle on his flank and then back to hers. Almost as if he was saying, "My flank is down there," or "You can fire my rifle any day." Ugh!

Cecelia was huddled next to the bed in the middle of the room. Deacon was in the bed, apparently asleep. His body was still and his eyes were closed, but the rising and falling of his chest let Orchestra know he was still alive.

His scarf had also been removed, and she assumed his barding was as well. Orchestra grimaced when she looked upon her companion's scarred face. There were scorch marks on his forehead, and cigarette burns on the sides of his neck. The remnants of acid burns could be found on his cheeks, as well as a set of stitches near his right eye. One of his ears was nicked at the top, while the other was torn at the bottom.

"My goodness, what did you do to this poor pony?!" Teresa demanded as she ran to the other side of the bed.

She shooed Joab off the nightstand, and drew closer to her patient. He looked ready to start yelling, but a hard look from Purity silenced him.

"He's looked like that for as long as I've known him. From what I’ve been told he grew up in a home that was... less than kind." Purity levitated the tray over to Teresa, and set it on the nightstand. "When he was discovered, one of the High Priests took him in and raised him. He was schooled in the gospel of the Goddess, and has been a respected preacher for at least two decades."

Orchestra bowed her head and placed a hoof over her heart, and Joab followed suit. However, Teresa and Cecelia had not. Instead, the two were applying the poultice to Deacon's chest. I can't be mad at them for that.

She approached Deacon from her side of the bed, and gently stroked his white mane.

"Get well soon, Father."

The old stallion opened his eyes, and his lips curled in a smile. "Well, look at this. Young and beautiful mares everywhere I look. I knew it would happen someday." He tried to chuckle, but ended up coughing instead.

"That's enough out of you, young man." Teresa picked up the bowl of soup, and Cecelia used her magic to feed Deacon.

He shivered as he swallowed. "And now one of these lovely mares is feeding me.” He winked at Joab. “Remember, Joab, patience. Then maybe one day when you're sick Orchestra will feed you soup."

Orchestra and Joab shared a quick glance before looking away. Deacon's resulting laugh was cut short by another spoonful of soup, but Purity's smirk was burned into Orchestra's mind.

"This room is getting too crowded. It's late, so how about the three of you go to bed while Cecelia and I watch over Deacon. Orchestra and Purity can share my room, while Joab can have Cecelia's."

Cecelia turned red, and shuffled her hooves. "Hey! Why is there always a boy in my room?"

Teresa pulled a stethoscope out from the nightstand drawer. She grinned, as she plugged it into her ears. "Is that such a bad thing? When I was your age I was happy to have boys in my room." The grin faded when she looked at Orchestra. Her lilac eyes hardened, and for a moment Orchestra feared for her life. "I thought I told you to leave."

"Right, sorry!" Note to self, always follow a doctor's orders immediately.

The three companions left the room, and walked down the hallway until they reached the two doors. Joab peeked into the first one. "I'm pretty sure this is Cecelia's room. Guess this is where I leave you ladies."

"Goodnight, Joab.Rest well," Purity offered.

"Yeah. What she said," Orchestra added.

Joab chuckled. "Night, 'Chestra." As he slipped into the door, he slapped her rump with his tail and immediately closed it.

"Joab!" Orchestra was blushing harder than she ever had in her life. She tried opening the door, but found he had already locked it. "I'll get you for that."

"Totally worth it!"

Asshole.

Orchestra huffed as she followed Purity into Teresa's room, slamming the door behind her. This room was about twice the size of the one behind the tapestry. In addition to having a Princess size bed, there was also a walk-in closet and a bathroom. Beside the bed was a dresser with a mirror on top. I wonder how I look after walking all day.

Orchestra undid her scarf as she approached the mirror. Her short brown bangs bounced as she walked, finally free. I feel so exposed now after wearing it for so long. She looked at her haggard reflection with a sigh.

"What would Symph say if he saw me like this?" She grinned, and deepened her voice. "Wow, Orchestra, that no food, no sleep diet is sure doing wonders for your complexion. Maybe you should stop breathing too. All that air is going right to your thighs." She frowned, and looked down at her flank. They're not that big are they?

She took off her black barding to get a better look at the glass flute on her flank. "I don't think they're too big. Purity, what do you think?"

No response.

"Purity?" Orchestra tilted her head, and saw the white unicorn was already in the bed. She had the bright red blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon, and was snoring softly. Just like Symphony.

Orchestra turned back to the mirror; this time she stared at the stitches on her temple. So much for true beauty is never tarnished. She touched a hoof to her face, but flinched. "Ow." I didn't think it was still so sensitive. I should be over the pain by now. I should be over the pain...

She quickly grabbed her scarf to wipe away the falling tears.

"It's been a week already. A whole fucking week! He's with Cadance now; he's in a better place. I should be fine with that, and just focus on my mission.”

So why do I feel like crying every time I think about him? She felt her head start to hurt, specifically her stitched temple.

"I'll kill her; I swear to the Holy Mother on my very soul. I'll kill that heathen harlot, and all her friends for what she did to my brother." A smile crept onto Orchestra's face. I didn't know how wonderful those three little words could sound until just now. "I'll kill her."

She made her way to the bed, and got comfortable under the blankets. She then closed her eyes, and placed both her front hooves over her heart.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray Holy Mother my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, bless me Mother my soul to take. If I should live another day, I pray the Mother to guide my way. Amen."

She opened her eyes before closing them again and adding, “And Holy Mother, I pray you will give me the strength and opportunity to do your works, and to accomplish my mission. With you by my side, I’ll kill her. In your name I pray, Amen.”

***

The smell of breakfast woke Orchestra up. She rubbed her eyes, and sat up in the bed.

“Morning, Purity.” She paused to yawn, and give her neck a good crack. “Sleep well?”

No response.

“Purity?”

Orchestra reached a hoof towards her companion, but felt nothing except blankets and sheets. Sure enough, when she looked to her side there was no sign of the white unicorn. She’s probably having breakfast. Her stomach growled. And that’s my cue to have some too.

She climbed out of the bed, and looked at her scarf and barding in front of the mirror. Do I really want to get changed? It’s not exactly inappropriate for a mare to not wear clothes. Joab’s grinning face flashed in her mind; Orchestra frowned. I’m getting changed.

She made her way down the stairs with her barding on, and her scarf wrapped around her neck. There wasn’t much need to wear it now, but not having it on made her feel naked. With Joab around that was a no go.

“Good morning, Orchestra. How did you sleep?” Cecelia greeted.

Four ponies sat around the table, each with a bowl of steaming hot soup in front of them. The couch had been moved to accommodate Joab and Purity, while Teresa and Cecelia sat in the chairs. There was an open spot on the couch next to Cecelia’s chair and Purity.

“I slept well. Actually, the best sleep I’ve had in about a week.” She took her spot at the table. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept like a marshmallow,” Cecelia beamed.

Never heard that one before. “That sounds great.” Orchestra took a whiff of her soup. “And that smells great. What’s in it?”

“It’s the same soup I gave Deacon last night.” Teresa sipped on a spoonful. “It should give you strength for your journey, and keep you full for at least half a day.”

“No hunger for half a day, huh?” Joab’s eyes gleamed, and he licked his lips. “So if I take seconds, then I won’t go hungry for a full day?”

Teresa shook her head. “No, eating too much will give you a massive stomach ache. The herbs are fickle that way.”

“Of course, things are just never that easy. Can’t cheat hunger, and I can’t see ‘Chestra without her barding. It’s just not fair.”

Orchestra looked down at her soup. I should throw this at him; I really should.

“You know, Orchestra, you shouldn’t sleep in your barding. You’ll wear it out quicker that way,” Teresa advised.

“Oh, I didn’t. I just put it on this morning to piss off Joab.”

He half-glared, half-pouted at her. “Well it worked.”

Orchestra smirked, and had a big helping of soup. When she finished she looked at Cecelia. “Speaking of Joab, Cecelia, you said something interesting last night.”

“Huh, what was that?”

“When your mother assigned Joab to your room you asked her, ‘Why is there always a boy in my room?’ Does that mean you get a lot of action?”

Cecelia turned redder than garnet. She shook her head, and waved her hooves. “No, that’s not it at all! What Mom meant was—”

"I believe I can answer that."

All heads turned to see Deacon walking down the stairs. He looked strong despite his age, and there was ferocity in his gaze. This soup must really work then.

He was levitating a book beside him, but not The Book of Cadance. He moved it towards the table, and dropped it in front of them. The cover was of a pale yellow pegasus with a spiky blue mane. He was holding a gun, one that looked more like a plastic children's toy than an actual firearm, in his mouth, and was aiming it at a zebra. The title of the book read: Flash! Savior of the Universe: Issue 117.

“What’s this?” Teresa asked.

“I’d like to ask you the same question.” Deacon trotted down the stairs slowly, never taking his eyes off Teresa. “When I awoke this morning, I found it sticking out from under the bed. I investigated, and nearly threw up reading it. What’s this nonsense about Goddesses when there is only one Goddess? Where are the crystal ponies if it takes place in the great Crystal Empire of old? And most intriguing, why do you allow such filth into your home?”

Teresa looked confused as she met Deacon’s gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen that book in my life.” Then her gaze hardened. “Though if I did, I don’t see why it would be your business.”

Deacon gestured towards his pulpit cutie mark. “It is my business because I am a priest. And under the order of High Priest Nero, you would normally be arrested for possessing contraband such as this.”

“High Priest Nero,” Teresa spat. “So you’re one of those Cadanites then.”

“Arrested? But that’s not even ours!” Cecelia was standing in front of Deacon, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It belonged to the pegasus colt, and his unicorn friend. You remember them right, Mom?”

Deacon was focused on Cecelia now. His eyes were wild, and he grasped her shoulders tightly. “A pegasus colt you say?” He looked at Purity, and then back at Cecelia. “This unicorn, what can you tell me about her? What did she look like?”

“It wasn’t a she—Well, there was a she. But the one with the pegasus was a stallion. He was dark red, maybe maroon. And he—”

“Did he have a black mane?” Joab asked.

“Yes, he did!”

“And the mare? Mint-green with golden eyes? Carried around a lyre?” Orchestra added.

“Yeah.” Cecelia’s brow creased as she looked from Joab to Orchestra. “How did you know that?”

“Infidels. You sheltered infidels.” Deacon’s lips contorted into a snarl, and he threw Cecelia to the side.

She stumbled and fell on her rump, looking about ready to cry. “Why are you so angry? We helped them just like we helped you? Isn’t that what Cadanites are supposed to do? Support each other?”

Deacon levitated the comic as he walked towards the fireplace.

“Purity, I would like you to go upstairs and collect our possessions. My barding and bags are in the room behind the tapestry; I believe Joab’s are in the other room.”

“Of course.” Purity got up from her seat, and stalked her way to the second floor.

“Orchestra, Joab. You know the procedure. Those who shelter heathens are no better themselves.”

“Yes, Father,” they replied.

Orchestra placed her hooves under the table, and heaved it upward. The table flipped, knocking Teresa over. Joab sprang from his spot on the couch and pinned her down, holding a hoof over her mouth. Teresa bit down; Joab screamed. He raised his hoof, along with Teresa’s head, and slammed it back onto the ground. Teresa’s head bounced, and she lost her grip. He wrapped his hooves around her throat, and raised his head.

“Secure.”

“Same.”

While Joab had been busy with Teresa, Orchestra had slithered towards the door to retrieve the kirpan from her boot. She then grabbed the stunned Cecelia, and wrapped her in a full nelson. Cecelia attempted to fight back, but promptly stopped when the blade was pressed against her throat.

“You have done well, my children.” Deacon levitated the comic above the fire. “In the Book of Cadance there is a particular passage I have memorized. It was actually a requirement for my ordainment. If there are no objections I would like to recite it for you.”

Both Teresa and Cecelia tried to scream, but started to choke when their captors increased the pressure on their throats.

“Very well, then.

“The path of the righteous is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish, and the tyranny of evil ponies. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper, and the finder of lost children.” The tip of the comic caught fire, and Deacon smirked. He walked away from the fireplace, with the burning book levitating next to him, as he continued reciting the passage.

“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my aim is holy when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”

Joab rolled off of Teresa as Deacon dropped the comic onto her mane. It combusted easily, and the mare began to scream and writhe.

"Orchestra. Your turn."

"Yes, Father." Orchestra released Cecelia from her hold, and kicked her towards her mother.

Once she was within range, Deacon's brow furrowed as he focused his magic. A brown barrier surrounded the duo. Cecelia frantically stamped on her mother's mane to put out the fire, but to no avail.

"Help us!" Cecelia began to bang on the walls of the barrier. "Please, let us out!" Smoke was beginning to fill the barrier, and Cecelia was coughing violently. "Please, we don't deserve this." More coughing. "We helped you…"

Orchestra approached the barrier, and placed one of her hooves on it. Cecelia looked at her with pleading eyes. She reached out with her own hoof, and touched the same spot as Orchestra.

"Please..."

Orchestra sneered as slid her hoof off the barrier. "We must purge them all." She turned her back, and walked up to the door to put on her boots. She heard a thud behind her; her sneer widened.

Including this heathen wench.

"Are you quite finished?" Purity trotted down the stairs, and floated Deacon and Joab their barding and bags.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Purity." The glow faded from Deacon's horn, and his face lost its edge. "Now, if you and Orchestra would be so kind as to give us some privacy. I know I've grown bolder with age, but I must admit I don't feel comfortable getting dressed with mares as lovely as yourselves in my presence."

Purity nodded. "Say no more. We're on our way out."

"Aw, poor 'Chestra. She's missing out on a truly wonderful sight," Joab joked.

Orchestra put her knife back into her boot, but didn't let go of the handle. I should throw this at him; I really should.

She stood up, and saw Purity looking back at the bodies.

"Such a shame. I was hoping to ask for the soup recipe." The white unicorn shook her head, sighing, and walked out the door.

Orchestra followed, and took her scarf off her neck. She started to wrap it around her face, but her hooves fumbled and were tied up. Damn, I’m bad at this. "Hey, Purity, could you help me with my scarf?"

"Sure thing.” Purity's horn glowed, and the scarf unwound until Orchestra's face and hooves were free. "There. Now, what you want to do is start with the forehead. It's easier to wrap the scarf going down than up."

As the scarf wound its way around Orchestra's forehead, her eyes darted off. She spotted a set of tracks a few steps away. That's where Purity was standing earlier. The scarf had finished wrapping, and was now covering all but her eyes and mouth. Eyes that stared hard at Purity.

"You never did tell me what you were looking at earlier."

For a moment it looked as if Purity flinched. But if she had, she recovered quickly and shook her head. "It doesn't matter now."

Doesn't matter now? That's a different answer than last time. "I'd still like to know. What didn't you feel like sharing with us?"

"What, is this an interrogation now? If I give the wrong answer, will you burn me alive too?"

Orchestra did flinch.

"There was nothing wrong with what we did, Purity. They housed infidels. Our infidel. They were heathens."

"They were ponies, Orchestra. You can spout whatever nonsense you want, but common sense says ponies are ponies." She took a few steps away from Orchestra, and levitated the spyglass out of her saddlebag. "I don't mind tracking for you. It's my special talent, so I might as well use it. Otherwise it's considered sloth. And if I have to kill in self-defense, I'll do it without a problem. But condemning ponies to being purged isn't in my job description."

"But what's the difference? You might not kill them, but without a tracker we can't find them. You're as guilty as we are. Assuming, of course, what we're doing is wrong.” Orchestra paused before adding, “Which is isn’t."

Purity put away her spyglass, and smiled mirthlessly at Orchestra. "Truth be told there isn't a difference. I just sleep better at night passing my guilt to somepony else." She cocked her head sideways. "I can see some tracks in the distance. I'll go scout ahead. You wait here until our stallions return."

Orchestra approached the spot where Purity had been standing to look at the tracks. As her unicorn companion walked away one set of tracks began to vanish. She could feel the wind pick up. It chilled her to the bone, but it was a good chill. It was as much from anxiety as it was from actual cold. Orchestra smirked as she stared at the fading tracks.

I'm coming for you, Heartstrings. And when I find you, I'll kill you.

Fallout: Equestria

Crystal Hearts

Author's Note

First off, I want to thank you for reading this. It really means a lot whenever someone reads my work, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any suggestions or critiques please don't hesitate to share them in the comments below. I'm always looking for ways to improve both the story and my own writing in general. I hope to post a new chapter on the final day of every month until the story’s completion, and I hope you’ll stick with me until then.

I would also like to thank Kkat for writing the original Fallout: Equestria. While there are many other side stories, I'm only mentioning that one as Crystal Hearts will only follow the original's continuity. This to avoid conflicts with characters who I know have been used in other stories. And lastly, I should mention that seeing the sunset was not an oversight, and that the Enclave's cloud cover does not reach the Crystal Wasteland. In Friendship Is Magic, the Crystal Empire seems so far away from the rest of Equestria that I decided the Enclave did not have cities that far away. Just thought I'd clear that up.

Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Monty Oum. I never knew him personally, but I was familiar with his work. The news of his passing is sad, particularly because I was a big fan of RWBY. The Rooster Teeth team asked to honor him by submitting creative work, which is why I want to dedicate this chapter to him. From one creator to another. Rest In Peace, Monty.

1.1: Overture

1.1, Overture

“All the ponies in this town are crazy!”

Symphony
"To be continued? Ah, fuck!"

The colt sitting on my back threw down his comic. It bounced off my flank, and landed in the snow.

I glanced down at the pages.

It depicted a two page spread of a pale yellow pegasus with a spiky blue mane, an armor clad griffon, and an owl perched on the pegasus' shoulder. The pegasus had a battle saddle equipped with two rifles, and held a gun resembling a children's toy in his mouth. The griffon's arsenal was much smaller, as it only included the large spiked club in his talons. The three of them were staring up at a horde of zebras racing towards them with the words “To Be Continued” printed in the bottom right corner.

I snorted as I walked away from the comic. Good riddance.

"Missile, what did I say about dropping the F-bomb?" the burly crystal stallion with the onyx-black mane growled.

The colt sighed. "Don't say it unless we're being shot at."

"And are we being shot at?"

The colt's wings buzzed as he fluttered onto my head. His dark green hooves wrapped around my neck and chin to stabilize him while he surveyed the surrounding area. "Not a bullet in sight, Sombra."

"Then you're grounded. Three days with no games or comics."

"What?! Why?"

"Because you broke the rules. Children shouldn't swear unless there's an emergency, and even that is being lenient. A mere 'To Be Continued' does not constitute an emergency."

Agreed.

"But..."

The dark grey stallion turned his head; his brilliant scarlet gaze as sharp as broken glass. I felt Missile shudder on my head. Sombra turned back around with a snort.

But Missile had not yet finished pleading his case. "Carbine, Bro, could you talk to Sombra for me?"

While most of us had been slowly gaiting through the snow to conserve energy, or in Missile's case hitching a ride, the maroon unicorn had been stomping through the snow. A semi-automatic rifle hung around his neck, and bounced with each step he took. He did not carry it in his saddlebags, as they were so full of garbage there was not enough room for his weapon. I would never understand why a pony saw fit to collect every burned book and coffee mug he came across.

Carbine continued stomping as he replied, "No can do, little bro. What the King says goes."

Missile snorted, and was most likely pouting. "Well you're useless."

Carbine laughed, and flashed the colt a toothy grin. His horn glowed the same mustard-yellow as his eyes, and the semi-automatic lifted slightly. "I wouldn't say useless, exactly. It's just my special method of negotiation wouldn't sit too well with ole Somby."

Missile let out an exasperated sigh, and went limp. His body was draped over my muzzle, and my view was obscured by his grey hoodie.

I stopped moving, and snorted loudly.

Missile sprang back up, and fluttered back down to my back. "Sorry, Symph." But under his breath he called me an asshole.

I looked back, and shot him a glare as cold as the snow.

My name is Symphony. I wanted to say that, and would have if not for my severed larynx. Thank you very much, Orchestra, just what I always wanted.

Missile pulled up his hood with a shrill shriek.

Ignoring him, I returned my focus on the path ahead. I could see the outlines of mountains in the distance, the border between the Crystal Wasteland and the rest of Equestria. Sombra walked in front of me, and I could see Carbine in my peripheral vision. Aside from that all I could see was the fresh snow. Stallions and snow. There was something distinctly feminine missing from my view.

Right on cue, I felt a nudge against my flank and a pair of lips kiss my scarred throat. Thank you, Holy Mother for taking pity on my plight.

"No need to be such a grump, Symphony." A mint green unicorn trotted next to me, and lowered her rump. "Want to ride with me instead, Missile? I promise not to snort, or give you dirty looks."

"By all that is holy, yes!" Missile jumped off of me, and landed on her back.

As she trotted away, Missile removed his hood. He pulled down his eyelid, stuck his tongue out at me, and made an annoying noise. Insolent brat.

The green mare turned her head, and winked at me. Despite being still annoyed with Missile, her gesture brought a smile upon my face. Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Even in the cold I felt warmth in my neck from her kiss.

While I had been thinking about Lyra, Carbine had trotted beside me. "Beautiful day isn't it, Symph?" His eyes danced from me, to the cloudless sky, to Lyra's flank. “Don’t ya just love the sights?”

I snorted in reply to his question. Eyes off, buddy.

"Ah, the ever reliable snort. You certainly have a way with no words, you know that?"

I narrowed my eyes, and scowled at him.

"Whoa, easy there big guy." Carbine threw up one of his front hooves in an attempt to calm me down. "I know you're not much of a talker, for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't communicate. We're comrades now, and I'd like to know my crystal brother. That way we can be bros, tried and true. Fire forged. And all those other metaphors the Cadanites have in their books."

I could not tell if he was mocking me or not. While establishing rapport with Carbine would be ideal, his lack of respect for my scar and faith rubbed me the wrong way. Though perhaps it was not malicious, and Carbine simply lacked tact.

I shrugged.

"Better than a snort!" Carbine wrapped a hoof around my neck, and pulled my head next to his. "We're practically family at this point."

I kicked his shin with my forehoof, and slipped out of his hold while he was distracted.

"Fuck damnit that hurt! What the fuck was that fo—" He stopped speaking when he saw me rubbing my neck. "Oh, right, that. Shit." He ran a hoof through his coarse black mane, and shook his head. "My bad, Symph." He outstretched his hoof with an apologetic look.

Yes, Carbine, your bad. I knocked his hoof aside with a snort, and quickened my pace. Hopefully he would understand that meant I did not want him walking beside me again. I made my way past Lyra. She opened her mouth, but I strutted past her. I had no interest in listening to her advice. I only wanted a minute or two alone to brood. Was that too much to ask? Once I had slowed down I found myself walking next to Sombra.

The older crystal stallion regarded me for a moment, and shook his head. "Amazing how different the ponies you find out here can be. One who doesn't stop talking, and another who keeps to himself. A unicorn heathen, and a chosen crystal earth pony. Yet, both are alike in their own way. Each has their burdens, scars, and means of coping."

How wonderful. I had been to church enough times, and spoken to enough priests, to know when a sermon was coming. The red acolyte robe he wore only served to strengthen his similarities to the church. It seemed wanting a few minutes to brood was too much to ask.

I found myself snorting again.

Sombra glared at me. "What? Did you think I was talking about you? Don't be so vain, Symphony. Not everything revolves around you."

No, really? I thought the scar around my neck suggested otherwise. Because clearly the world revolved around me if it had taken away my voice. It was only out of the Holy Mother’s love for me that the songbird and sheet music on my flank would be a constant reminder of the destiny I had stolen from me. Not that I doubted the Holy Mother’s infinite wisdom. I just… ugh. I sighed mentally. Now now, Symphony. There was no need to be overdramatic.

I decided to stop being angry, and legitimately consider what Sombra said. If his intent had not been to lecture me, he may have been trying to relate to me. In that case, the crystal earth pony he had been referring to was himself. So what were his scars? If he had any they were invisible under his robe.

I cocked an eyebrow.

Sombra shook his head. "Like I said, Symphony, he keeps to himself."

So much for trying to relate to me. I considered strutting past him, but decided against it. My impairment distanced me enough from these ponies; I did not need my attitude to do the same. After all, I needed them to like me so they would keep me alive.

I slowed down my pace to catch up with the other three. I walked in-between Carbine and Lyra, who still had Missile on her back. The colt had his hooves crossed, and was shooting bullets at me with his eyes. Given his age, about six to my estimation, the look came off as unintentionally funny. Lyra’s was far more damning. Her golden eyes perfectly mimicked the glower of a disappointed parent. She nudged her head in the direction of Carbine, and I cast him a glance.

The maroon moron had returned to stomping through the snow, and the bleeding heart on his flank seemed to pulsate with every step he took. I had pondered the nature of Carbine’s cutie mark since the first moment I laid eyes on it. What kind of destiny did a bleeding heart signify? It was as baffling as to why he refused to wear barding.

"Armor's for pussies," he had said when Lyra asked him why.

Lyra had purchased a pair of vests for the two of us to provide some protection. I had stowed my vest in my saddlebag due to how itchy it was, but at least I had it with me. Even Missile and Sombra had something on. But the maroon moron wore nothing but that gun around his neck.

I tapped him on the shoulder.

Carbine shot me a cocksure grin. “Oh, I get it now. You can touch me, but I can’t return the favor.” He shook his head, and looked over at Lyra with a disappointed frown. “Come on, Thirteen, didn’t you teach Symph that relationships have to have both give and take?”

I had been ready to apologize. Would it have been a truly sincere apology? For the most part, no, but it had a degree of sincerity to it. I did legitimately want to be on good terms with him. After that show of stupidity, however, all sincerity had melted away. Yet, the apology still needed to be made.

Barely withholding a snort, I placed a hoof on my chest and made two clockwise circles.

Carbine raised an eyebrow, and rubbed the back of his head. “You saying you like drawing circles?”

“Maybe he’s having heartburn,” Missile suggested.

Of course. It was my fault for thinking these heathens would understand hoof language, even I barely did. I had picked up on a few words and phrases while growing up, and had Lyra to teach me more.

“It’s hoof language,” Lyra explained. “He’s apologizing.”

Carbine looked more befuddled than before. “Sorry? The fuck for? I touched him in a bad place; he kicked me. Seems reasonable to me. Fuck, if somepony touched me in my bad touch place I’d shoot them. I think Symph just let me off with a warning,” he finished with a wink.

Mischief twinkled in Lyra’s eyes. “Oh? And where is this bad touch place of yours?”

Carbine nickered. “Trust me, Thirteen, as much as I would love for you to find that spot I don’t think your hubby here would much appreciate it.”

He was certainly right about that. I put a hoof around Lyra, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Bleh, kissing. I’m coming over to you, Bro,” Missile grumbled, and fluttered over to Carbine.

Lyra chuckled, and moved her face away from my lips. “Hubby, you say? Do you see a ring on this horn, Carbine?”

Well I had intended on proposing to Lyra, but the incident with Orchestra had been an unforeseen setback. Since I kept my bits in my room there was no way to access my savings to actually buy a ring.

Carbine shook his head.

Lyra sensually trotted towards him. “Then, in the grand scheme of things, I think that makes me single."

Carbine presented me with the toothiest grin I had ever seen in my life. “I suppose it does.”

“Maybe you and I should get to know each other better tonight,” Lyra purred. She looked at me with a shudder. “Symphony’s been so cold lately, and I need somepony who can keep me warm.” She nudged my flanks with hers, and chuckled.

“Maybe we should,” Carbine agreed.

I barely fought off the urge to indulge in another melodramatic monologue. This one centered on Lyra and her teasing. But I was able to quell my urges. Honestly, venting to my own mind would get me nowhere but on a fast track to insanity.

"Please forgive him, Symphony.” Sombra interjected. “Carbine has a disease; I believe the term is being a chronic dumbass."

"Hey! I resent that remark." Carbine puffed out his chest, and pounded a hoof on it. "I prefer being known as a stupid motherfucker!"

What was the difference?

Carbine put a hoof around my shoulders, careful not to have it touch my neck, and laughed. "Now, Symphony, you're probably wondering what the difference is."

He was strangely more perceptive than I had thought.

"The difference is motherfucker is my favorite word. It's offensive, aggressive, and just plain badass."

"I always thought it was two words,” Lyra mused.

He gaily shook his head. "Not the way I say it! Right, Missile?"

The colt gave an enthusiastic nod. "Bro-hoof, motherfucker?" Lucky for him Sombra did not seem to hear his profanity.

"Bro-hoof." Carbine reached out a hoof, and Missile pounded it with one of his own.

I wanted to roll my eyes at them for their stupid action. I also wanted to call them heathens, for in all my years of attending church I had never once heard the term “bro-hoof.” Instead, I cracked a smile.

Missile saw me, and shuddered. He pulled the drawstrings of his hood, and hid his face. “Symph's making mean faces at me again."

I frowned; this was going to be a long journey.

Suddenly, Sombra stopped moving. The ground below us had begun to slope, and Sombra stood at the crest. "Carbine," he barked. "I need to use your binoculars."

Carbine's horn took on a mustard-yellow glow, as he levitated a pair of binoculars out of his saddlebags. The binoculars were equipped with a string, which Carbine slipped over his neck as he took off sprinting.

"I'll let you use them in a sec." Carbine was now halfway up the hill, with Missile hanging on for dear life. "But since you didn't say please, I get first look."

A sigh rumbled in Sombra's throat, but he said nothing. I could empathize. Lyra and I were now in a full trot, but it was a good few moments before we had made it to the top of the slope.

Before us lay a camp ground, or what was left of one. Even without binoculars I could see the bodies. How many there were I could not begin to fathom, but it was enough for my stomach to churn. From here they appeared maimed, though it was hard to tell due to the flames. The bodies, as well as many of the tents, were on fire.

“What is this place?” Lyra gasped.

“This is Ghoul’s Point,” Sombra rumbled. “According to the scriptures, this is where Cadance raised the spirits of those who had fallen when the balefire bombs dropped.”

This was Ghoul’s Point? I had always imagined there would be a grand statue of the Holy Mother to commemorate her act. Instead, there was nearly nothing. What a disappointment.

Carbine whistled. "Beautiful isn't it?"

"Really? I wanna see?" Missile snatched the binoculars away from Carbine, and peered through them. "Woah, cool. Look at all the blood!"

Beautiful? Cool? My companions truly were heathens. I snorted again.

"What?" Carbine had taken the binoculars from Missile, and levitated them over to Sombra. "It's impressive work. Have you ever wiped out an entire campground? It's not as easy as it sounds."

What scared me the most about Carbine were the times when I could not tell when he was joking. In that moment he bore the grin of a clown, while a deranged gleam filled his eyes. I barely fought off the urge to shudder.

"What are you thinking, Sombra?" Lyra asked.

He retained his silence, as he looked through the binoculars. I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind as he did so. Surely he would be horrified to some degree. But would his horror drive him away, or would it invite him to investigate?

“I think we should go down there,” he said at last.

“Yes!” Carbine raised a hoof into the air triumphantly, and Missile bro-hoofed it.

Lyra did not share his enthusiasm. “Um, Sombra? Don’t you think we should be heading away from the bodies and fire?”

Sombra shook his head, and tossed her the binoculars. “Do you see any living ponies down there?”

Lyra caught the binoculars in a telekinetic hold. She put them to her eyes, and observed the camp. “No… Ah, I see what you’re getting at.”

That made one of us. I could understand wanting to scavenge the ruins, but I doubted there would be much left after the fires. Even if items of value remained none of them could possibly be worth risking our lives.

I cocked an eyebrow at Lyra.

"What Sombra's getting at is whoever attacked this place has already left, and probably won't be coming back. I mean, why would they? If they were still holding out here, I'd avoid this place like it was your sister. But if they're gone, we have no reason to not check it out."

Yes, we did. We had no guarantee the murderers would not return. It was also a possibility they were still down there and were simply well hidden. I attempted to think of a dignified method to mime my concerns, but none came to mind. Instead, I resigned myself to writing in the snow.

I traced two sentences, “They may return,” and “Not worth it,” in the snow.

Sombra nodded. "This is true, but I still feel it would be beneficial to have a look. I did see some tents that weren't on fire. It could provide us with shelter if we wish to stay the night."

Still not convinced, I shook my head.

"Then I guess we've reached an impasse." He turned to Lyra. "I'll leave the decision to you."

Carbine gave an exasperated sigh. "Hey, why aren't you asking me?"

Sombra gave him a flat stare. "Because, Carbine, you don't think about consequences. You just want to shoot something."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Carbine huffed.

Sombra ignored him, and gestured towards Lyra. "Well, Miss Heartstrings?"

Lyra took another look through the binoculars. She nodded a few times, before levitating the binoculars back to Carbine. She smiled at me apologetically. "Sorry, Symphony, but I do think the pros outweigh the cons here. I doubt whoever did this would raze a place they intended on returning to.

“True, we might not find much, and the shelter won't be great, but it'll be better than nothing. Besides." She paused to levitate a snub-nosed 629 magnum revolver out of the holster on her hindleg. "If they do come back it’ll give the chance to try out Faith."

Faith. Certainly an interesting name for a weapon. Ironic it would be wielded by a non-believer, especially since it had the words “In Cadance We Trust” engraved into the barrel. Lyra had received Faith a couple days ago when we had received shelter from a mother and daughter. When the mother learned Lyra had no weapon to defend herself, she had given Lyra her husband's gun. I prayed Teresa and Cecelia were doing well; I also prayed Lyra would not need to use it.

"It's settled then. We'll keep moving until we reach the encampment. If necessary, we’ll stay the night." Sombra began his trudge through the snow with his robe flowing behind him. Carbine stomped alongside him, with Missile resting on his head. That left Lyra and I together.

"Faith. Interesting name for a weapon, huh?" she mused as she holstered the gun.

I barely listened; I was preoccupied with the encampment. Whether it be from the fires, bodies, or providence from the Holy Mother herself, I was getting an ominous vibe. Most likely it was from all three.

I felt a hoof on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Symphony. Everything will be fine.”

Everything will be fine. Fate, thou hath been tempted.

***

As horrible as the scene was from a distance, it was far worse up close. Splashes of red had tainted the baby blue color of the tents. Not a single one was spared blood spatter, but at least some had not caught fire. By the time we arrived, most of the fires had died out. The ones that had not were small enough to be stomped out with our hooves.

However, we did not stomp out the burning bodies. Carbine had been more than willing, but Sombra told him it would be disrespectful. Letting them burn would give them a memorial, even if it would be a fleeting one.

I had been right about the maiming. There were piles of bodies, and parts, everywhere. The pile I was currently observing was located under a tarp. Tables had been set up under the tarp. Some of the tables had chairs, while others were lined up as if they held a buffet. The layout was similar to a makeshift mess hall. The fork in the body pile supported my assumption. The fork lay in-between a pair of brown hooves; the rest of the body was nowhere in sight. Another abominable image was a mare's head with a pair of knives through the eyes.

I wanted to look away, but something compelled me to keep looking. The something in question was a flank missing the rest of its body. Or to be more specific, the barding on the flank. Just staring at a severed flank would be disgusting.

The barding was made of black aramid fibers, and I noticed a familiar symbol where the cutie mark would have been. The symbol was of a dark blue shield, with the three stars levitating over it. In the center of the shield was a large pink star with the letters “CDF” written in the star. This was the emblem of the Cadanite Defensive Force.

"Hey, Bro, what's CDF stand for?" Missile asked.

Missile and Carbine were looking at another pile of body parts a couple yards away from me. I noticed most of the bodies wore similar barding. With this many CDF uniforms around, I assumed this was most likely a military base. My mess hall analogy proved truer than I had first thought.

"CDF?" Carbine scratched the side of his head, and shrugged. "I don't know. Crystal Dumb Fucks?" He paused, and looked at me. "No offense, Symph."

Plenty was taken.

Missile stood up straight, and climbed onto Carbine's head. "Oh, I know! Carbine's Deadly Farts!"

Carbine laughed. "Damn straight they are. I've got a balefire bomb in my ass."

"Deadly or no, that's not what CDF stands for." Sombra approached the duo, and pointed to the emblem on the barding. "The Cadanite Defensive Force is the Holy Mother's earthly army. They were created by the Burned Stallion, and bear his cutie mark on their flanks."

"So what do they do exactly?" Missile asked.

"They were created for protection, hence the word Defensive. Their job is to protect the Crystal Wasteland from invaders after the bombs fell, as well as to protect other Cadanites from forces within our border."

Carbine snorted. "They certainly did a stand up job."

I gave him the coldest glare I could muster. Becoming a member of the CDF was an honor. It was an honor known only to those who were willing to give their lives for their brothers and sisters. Their deaths deserved far more than the sardonic chatter of a moron of his caliber.

He threw up his hooves in defense. "Easy there, Symph. Just a bit of harmless sarcasm. Nothing to throw a fit over."

Sombra shook his head. "Still, you should know better than to speak ill of the dead, Carbine. It's bad karma."

"Pfft." The maroon moron rolled his eyes. "Karma, shawarma. They had a job, they clearly sucked at it, so I made a joke. Far as I'm concerned they had it com—Oh shit is that a tomato?"

Carbine stopped talking, and trotted a few paces to another body. This one was holding a fork with his hoof, and on the tip of the fork was a piece of tomato. Carbine hunched over to bite the tomato off of the fork. His eyes rolled back as he chewed, and he let out a moan. "There is a Goddess."

I wanted to buck him; I wanted to buck him hard. I could be willing to overlook his so called “harmless sarcasm,” but how did he have the gall to eat off a corpse?

I took a step towards him.

Before I could take a second, Sombra intercepted me. Our eyes met, his blazing at me like scarlet bullets. But as if he had misfired, his eyes softened. He put a hoof on my shoulder, the faintest shadow of a smile on his face. "Believe me, Symphony, I understand how you're feeling. As I said before, he is a chronic dumbass."

"Stupid motherfucker," Carbine corrected, before bumping hooves with Missile.

"Regardless, while many of his actions come off as offensive, he truly doesn’t know any better."

I craned my neck to watch Carbine. He and Missile continued to pick food off the ground and corpses. He had to either be a monster, or a pony who had fallen on hard times to stoop to such levels. If he had been the latter, then I could not help but pity him. He would still need a good buck, but perhaps not quite as hard as I initially intended.

Sombra’s near smile melted into a grimace. "Of course, this excuse can only be used for so long. At some point he needs to learn some behavior will not be tolerated. Carbine, you're grounded too."

Carbine’s eyes popped open wide. "Wha—" In his surprise, Carbine had dropped another large chunk of tomato down his throat without chewing. He clutched his throat as he gagged. Karma, shawarma indeed.

"Bro!" Missile hopped off Carbine's back. He tried to knock the food out of Carbine's mouth by bucking his side. Being a small child, his attempts proved fruitless. Heh, fruitless. Glad I did not lose my sense of humor along with my voice.

Sombra nodded in Carbine's direction. "I'll leave him to you."

I nodded in return. Looks like I would get to buck him after all. This was going to be a cathartic moment.

Carbine’s eyes widened when he saw me approach. Using his levitation, he rammed his gun into his side to help Missile. Once again, the attempts proved fruitless. Heh.

When Missile saw me standing before him he let out a shrill squeak. He gave Carbine an apologetic glance before fluttering onto my back. "Don't hit him too hard, Symph. Please."

I planted my back hooves, and thrust both of my front hooves into Carbine's side.

The tomato cannonaded from his mouth, and landed on the earth with a soft plop. Carbine hunched over, one hoof on his side and the other rubbing his throat.

Missile jumped off of me to be by his side. "Are you alright, Bro?"

Carbine gave him a weak grin, and a wink. "Of course. I'm motherfucking Carbine." He paused to cough. "But even motherfucking Carbine needs his cool-down time."

"Perfect. While you're cooling down, Missile will explore with Symphony. That's your punishment."

The three of us each had a different expression for Sombra. Carbine wore a confused frown, while Missile pouted, and pleaded with his eyes. I merely cocked an eyebrow.

Sombra gestured to the bodies. "Look at this place. Whoever killed these soldiers was ruthless." He trotted a few paces before stopping, and picked up a severed head. The filly it belonged to could not have been a day older than twelve. "I don't want Missile to be alone with you right now, Carbine. Not when you're so eager to get in a fight."

Carbine scratched the back of his mane with a nod. "I can't argue with you there, Somby. I don't mind adding a few holes to my hide, but I don't want Bro getting shot at."

"But do I have to go with Symphony?" He must have caught my glare because he quickly stammered, "Not that I don't want to hang with Symph, or anything like that. It's just—"

"Then there won't be a problem. You're away from Carbine so he's free to start whatever fights he wants, and you can holler for Miss Heartstrings or me if you find anything worth sharing."

I honestly did not hate this idea as much as I should have. True, Missile was an insolent brat, but being with me would keep him safe. I may not have liked all of my companions, but by no means did I truly hate them either. Hate was not the Cadanite way. It also helped that he could speak. True, he lacked the capacity to keep quiet, especially once he started speaking about those stupid Flash! comics. However, it would be beneficial for me to have a way of communicating with the others.

That was what I thought until I noticed the near invisible grin on Sombra's face. He had wanted us to believe there were legitimate reasons for this team up so we would not argue with him. But that grin implied he had ulterior motives. Most likely he wanted me alone with Missile in an attempt to forge a bond between the two of us. That was pure manipulation! Suddenly, I hated this plan as much as I should have initially. Still, I was literally in no situation to argue with Sombra.

I gave Missile a small nod. He was hesitant, but he did return the gesture.

"Good." Sombra remarked, as Missile fluttered onto my back. "There's an intact tent a few yards away I'd like you two to check out. Miss Heartstrings has had some luck finding ammunition, so I'm hoping you two find something useful as well."

Sombra's eyes moved towards Carbine. The maroon stallion was hunched over the regurgitated tomato. He gave it a sniff, nodded to himself, and opened his mouth.

"Bro, that's nasty."

Carbine froze for a moment. He gazed back at the three of us, and quickly stood straight up. “What? It's not like I was going to eat that tomato or anything. Come on." He emphasized his point by kicking it away.

"Carbine," Sombra barked. "I want you to check here for any food we can salvage. I'm sure you still have some empty cans in your bags. You can use them for storage."

Carbine saluted, and levitated six empty cans out from his saddlebags. What he was doing with two empty cans of beans, and four empty cans of Cram would forever be a mystery to me. On that note, the contents of Cram would forever be a mystery to me.

While Carbine was collecting food, Missile and I made our way to the tent. I could see the CDF emblem on it, unlike most of the others. The tent was either special, most likely a command center or armory, or it was the only one in which the emblem had not been hidden by blood.

Crunch.

I peered down at the bone fragments under my hoof.

I found multiple bodies in front of me, and the majority of them appeared leathery and decayed. The one body which did not had a smashed skull, courtesy of my hoof. Beside the shattered skull was a now tattered crystal-blue hat. The CDF emblem had been embroidered into the hat, and there were three additional stars on the shield. These three stars also appeared on the brim of the hat. I had been frustrated with Carbine's irreverence yet I was the one who crushed the head of a captain. Fillies and gentlecolts, the definition of irony.

I closed my eyes, and touched my hoof to my heart to show respect for the dead pony.

"Is that a Cadanite thing?" Missile peeked out from behind my head, giving me an honestly curious glance.

I nodded.

He shook his head, and sighed. "Religious ponies are so weird."

Ignoring his statement, I peered into the tent.

The first thing I noticed were the dead bodies. Color me surprised. In addition to more leathery ponies, I found three mangled crystal ponies. Each of them had a fourth star adorning the shield on the flanks of their uniforms. Assuming each piece of uniform belonged to an individual body, then each of the three mangled bodies belonged to a corporal. Aside from the three dead corporals, again assuming the body parts belonged to three different ponies, there was one other body in the room. To my legitimate surprise the body was intact.

It was a mare, and a particularly beautiful one at that. Her dark grey eyes were open, and I felt as if they were staring at me. Her pale orange coat was splattered with blood, but I could not identify any open wounds on her torso. The same could not be said for her face. Her horn had been struck with a blunt object in the center, which had caused it to concave. In addition, there were cuts on both of her cheeks. Neither cut seemed particularly deep, but had been enough to draw blood.
Overall the lieutenant’s, I knew she was a lieutenant from the second additional star on her CDF emblem, body was in decent condition. The only major damage had been to her horn, and even that could be survived. I would have thought her alive from the way she stared at me.

If not for the knife plunged into her chest, of course.

A long-bladed knife had been plunged into Lieutenant Starfall’s heart. Her mouth was still open, her final gasp etched onto her face forever. Similar to the cuts on her cheeks, blood trickled down from her mouth onto her hooves. Starfall deserved better than that. So much better.

I grasped the knife in my jaws, and pulled it from her chest.

For a moment I thought I saw her smile. Her mouth was still open, so maybe she had tried smiling when she passed. It was unlikely, of course. I could not imagine dying with a smile on my face. However, if she made her peace with the Holy Mother before dying, a smile was not out of the question. I truly hoped she had.

I dropped the knife into my saddlebags, and dared a second glance at Starfall.

I did not want to loot the bodies, removing the weapon which killed her did not qualify as looting, but I saw no reason to leave the tent unsearched. Sombra had given me a job after all. But I could not bring myself to do so while Starfall stared at me.

I closed her eyes with my hoof, and gently kissed her head. Rest in peace, Starfall, and may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.

"Hey, Symph, what's that under her hoof?"

I glanced down at Starfall's hooves.

Sure enough, I could see a pair of objects underneath. The one I could see clearly was recognizable by its bronze chain. If I were to move her hoof, I was sure to find a heart-shaped locket. Each side of the locket would be marked by a cutie mark. The front would feature a bird flying on a sheet of music, mine, while the other would display a meteor shower, hers. Inside the locket would be an inscription.
If my memory was accurate it should read, "To a mare more beautiful than star or song. You are the muse who ignites my soul. Without you, my inner songbird would never fly. I am your Cadance, and you my Shining Armor. Come ice, come fire. Come wicked wind, come evil tongue. No force of nature nor pony could ever remove Symphony from Starfall."

I half smiled, half snorted.

I had been a terrible writer in my youth, which was admittedly only two years ago. There was neither rhyme nor rhythm to my piece, and my word choice left much to be desired. Yet such was the state of first love. It had a way of making even the most asinine gestures feel like artistic masterpieces. Starfall must have agreed, or else she would have discarded the locket years ago. Why had I broken up with her in the first place? I received my answer when I examined the second object in greater detail.

"Holy shit, I loved Issue 114!"

I cringed.

Now I remembered why our relationship had not worked out. There were many traits of Starfall's I had grown to admire. Her ambition, bravery, and her kissing prowess had won her a place in my heart. But she was one of the most immature mares I had ever known. She was loud, at times impulsive, and she had never learned to hold her liquor. Which, of course, she was quite fond of. In addition, she was a huge fan of those childish comics.

Missile moved her hoof to grab the comic. As he did so, I caught a glimpse of my cutie mark on the locket; so I was right. As he began flipping through the comic, Missile’s face brightened like a display of fireworks. “I remember this part; Flash was about to fight the evil Ambassador. And then Flash was all like, ‘Stand down, evildoer.' And then the Ambassador yelled, 'NEEEEEEVAAAARGH!' And then…"

While Missile rattled on about Flash Sentry, I had begun poking through an open chest. Inside I discovered multiple uniforms. I found the standard with only three stars on the shield, a few corporals, and one each for the fallen Lieutenant and Captain. Lyra and I could certainly use the barding; goodbye to the itchy vest.

“… Bullets were flying everywhere. And I mean everywhere. One dude got shot in the nads! Can you believe that, Symph?”

Beside the chest was an open storage locker. The locker was stocked with arms and ammunition. At least half a dozen hunting rifles, a pair of shotguns, and a sniper rifle leaned against the walls. On the floor of the locker I found three 10mm pistols, and a magnum revolver. The floor was also covered in metallic apples. I noticed some had bands of blue or green around them. There were also armor piercing rounds for the magnum and sniper rifle, as well as two boxes of shells for the shotguns.

The only reason I was able to tell the difference between a shotgun shell and a baby carrot was my friend Joab. He liked to show off his knowledge of firearms to Orchestra whenever he would come over. He loved firearms almost as much as he loved my sister. He would have been beside himself with ecstasy if he were here.

But I only grew worried. This was a decent stash of weapons, certainly enough for a group of well-trained soldiers to defend themselves. How were they defeated? No, defeated was not the right word. This had been a slaughter. Whatever had done this were true terrors of the Crystal Wasteland.

“… And then the comic ended. Isn’t that an awesome cliffhanger, Symphony?” Speaking of true terrors.

I grunted in response to his question.

I had hoped my response would shut him up; it did not. Instead, he fluttered in front of me. His amber eyes were huge, and he gave me a grin which showed off his grimy teeth. “So who’s your favorite character? Aside from Flash, of course.”

I merely stared at him.

“My other favorite is the griffon king, Vulture. He’s no Flash, but he still kicks major flank.” The colt’s wings stopped fluttering, and he landed on the floor. “I can’t wait till I’m off my grounding so I can read the next issue!" He fluttered back into the air, and settled down on my back. He laid his head down on my shoulder as his hooves flopped down to my sides. “Since you don’t want to talk about comics, what do you want to do?”

I could think of a few things, with not babysitting an annoying colt being number one. But what I needed to do was hunt for supplies. I knew the barding and weapons would not all fit in my bags, so I was going to compromise. I stowed the itchy vest in the chest, but did not take any of the uniforms. I could take Lyra into the tent later to try on some uniforms with her. Scratch my earlier thought. Trying on uniforms with Lyra was now the top of my want to do list.

I was able to use the free space in my bags to stow the ammunition, but did not have enough room for all the weapons. One of the shotguns remained, as did the 10mm pistols and hunting rifles. I had enough room in my bags for one of the shotguns, the magnum and the sniper. The sniper was particularly bulky, and took up most of the room.

I pointed to the remaining weapons, specifically the metallic apples.

“You want me to hold those?” Missile asked.

I nodded.

The colt licked his lips, and rubbed his hooves together. “’Bout damn time I got a weapon.” He jumped off of my back, and began to stuff his pockets with the grenades.

For a split second I wondered if there was any way giving Missile grenades qualified as a good idea. But as my eyes began to wander they eventually settled on a pair of boxes atop the locker. Those seemed infinitely more interesting. One was a slightly rusted grey container, which more than likely carried ammunition. The second I found far more intriguing, as it was marked with three pink and yellow butterflies.

I had read of a similar symbol in the Book of Cadance. According to the scriptures, it was the cutie mark of one of the Fallen Angels. I was unsure of whether I should open the box or not. Was this a test from the Holy Mother? I wanted to leave the Crystal Wasteland with Lyra; I wanted to start a family with her. But I had no desire to forsake my Goddess. Would opening a chest bearing the mark of a Fallen Angel put me under the power of the Shadow Goddess? I dared not risk the consequence.

I tapped Missile on the shoulder; then I cocked my head towards the box.

Missile gave me a salute. “On it.”

Of course, there were always loopholes to be found in even the strictest of religious texts. I would never give in to the Shadow Goddess’ temptation. Missile, on the other hoof, was another story altogether. He climbed atop my head, and from there he was able to reach the top of the locker. I heard the jiggling of a lock, quickly followed by a second.

“Fuck damnit they’re both locked.” Missile peered down from the locker. “No dice, Symph. Think you or Bro could force them open?”

Certainly not. A Cadanite lock could not be opened by applying brute force, and I doubted Carbine had the finesse required for lock picking. I never had the need, nor the desire, to learn the skill myself. Although I believed I knew a mare who had some experience with the subject.

I motioned to the boxes, and pointed to the ground.

“Drop ‘em?”

I nodded.

“Okie dokes. Bombs away.”

Given that Missile now had grenades in his possession I found the phrase slightly unsettling. The two boxes hit the ground with a clang, but, alas, they remained closed. I needed Lyra in here to pick the lock, and to find her a fitting suit of barding. It would be best if Missile went to find her; that way I could continue to search the tent. I spotted a table on the far side which may have held a few treasures. But how to communicate my thoughts to Missile?

I pressed my front hooves together and made a cone, or at least tried to, and touched it to my forehead. Then I batted my eyes. Hopefully he would understand my actions to represent a unicorn and a mare.

Missile replied with an incredulous stare. “Something about your forehead is making you blink a lot?”

Or not. To get my point across I would have to think like Missile, who thought like Carbine. I had to think like Carbine; I could feel my hide crawl with discomfort at the very thought.

I pointed to my flank, and whistled.

Thankfully the process of whistling did not involve my vocal cords. It was disheartening to know I would never sing again, but at least I could do something slightly related to music. I supposed if I strained hard enough I might have been able to scream, but that was simply out of the question. I would rather lose my voice entirely than hear it strained.

Missile’s eyes widened with clarity. “Oh, you mean Thirteen. Why didn’t you just say so?” He paused when I glared at him. “Um, what I meant was, I’ll go get her. Be back in a sec.” Missile hopped off the locker, and fluttered out of the tent.

Now it was time to examine the desk. It was covered in what I initially thought was a table cloth. Upon further inspection, however, I discovered it was a map of the Crystal Wasteland. I recognized the names of a few landmarks; such as the Crystal Palace, and Ghoul's Point. The latter of which had a circle around it.

I found multiple other circles on the map as well. Being in a military base the circles implied the circles possessed some significance to the CDF. There were two explanations which came to mind. One, each circle was a CDF base and were simply a form of keeping track. The far more likely option was each circle represented a target. In that case Ghoul's Point was a recent acquisition. That could also explain why the soldiers had been so easily killed; they were ambushed while settling in.

I rolled up the map, and packed it in my bag. Thankfully I did not have to sacrifice any other equipment due to the map not being nearly as bulky as the guns. But if I had to, it would have been worth the loss. Our only means of navigation to this point had been Sombra's compass. We were headed south, towards the border, but aside from that our path remained a mystery.

I opened the drawers to see what else I could scavenge.

The drawers were packed, but most of them held only junk. I found mugs, empty bottles, and an empty carton of cigarettes in one. In another drawer were a quill, a few broken pencils, and a pencil sharpener. Although I took the quill, I realized my endeavor was proving mostly fruitless. Now that there was no pun to be made I felt even more discouraged.

That was, until I opened the final drawer.

The first item I noticed was a letter. The letter had been written on parchment rather than normal paper; the writing itself had been performed by a mouth, or horn, with experience in calligraphy. Clearly whoever had penned the letter was an important pony. It read,
Dear Captain Uziel,
Word of your capturing Ghoul’s Point has reached the Crystal Palace. I know I speak for my fellow High Priests when I offer my sincerest congratulations on your efforts, and give you my condolences as well. I understand the losses were more severe than you had anticipated. For that, I am truly sorry. But we must not grieve the fallen for long, Captain, for they are in a better place at the Holy Mother's side.
Yet, there is still much to accomplish in the land of the living. Your post will receive a shipment of supplies in the coming days, as well as fresh recruits. I entrust them to you, Captain, and pray they will receive from you the same training you received from General Uriah.
These ghouls are a plague, Captain. They are a remnant of an old world, one which scorned the love of the Holy Mother. I know there are some within your rankings who see them as the Burned Stallion's army. However, the Burned Stallion is long gone, and his army has turned rogue in his absence. I pray your soldiers can overcome their misgivings and continue to fight the holy fight.
You are within our prayers, as well as our hearts, Captain.
Sincerely,
High Priest Nero

I was not sure which name affected me more, Captain Uziel's or Nero's.

I had known Uziel since I was a colt. His mother had been my foalsitter, and our families had been close. I remembered him always being nice and playing with me despite being much older. Though it may have been due to the crush he had on my sister. It was more than a little creepy at times, but he was a good enough stallion that I never worried for my sister’s safety.

The only time he made me truly nervous was when he recruited Orchestra for the CDF. I had feared I would never see my sister again because she was going to be on dangerous missions. Given the circumstances I found myself in, I wished I had not seen her again. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself…

Orchestra’s actions were why it sickened my soul to know Uziel was taking orders from Nero. I had always known Orchestra to be more devout than other ponies, but Nero corrupted my sister’s devotion into something evil. I was not naïve enough to consider her blameless. After all, Nero was not the one who slit my throat. However, if she had never met Nero then I would still have my sister. I hoped the mission Uziel and Starfall embarked on had been sanctioned by more High Priests than just Nero. It would be nothing short of tragedy if everypony from my old life had been brainwashed into his cult.

I looked away from the letter, mostly out of disgust, and discovered the second item in the drawer. It was a small radio. It gave off no signal, even when I pressed the button and fiddled with the antennae. I considered giving up on it until I remembered a particular weakness of Starfall's. For some reason I could not begin to fathom, she always struggled with placing batteries in the correct slot. It was a long shot, I truly doubted she would still have that problem if she had been promoted to Lieutenant, but it was worth a look.

I opened the back of the radio. The batteries were placed incorrectly. It was serendipitous that I had known Starfall all those years ago; Goddess bless her heart. After fixing the batteries, I found a signal. It was mostly static, but at least it was working. It took a bit of fiddling, but I managed to retrieve a clear signal.

"Hark, how the horns, sweet flugelhorns, all seem to shout cast out your doubt.

Cadance is here bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold.
Ca-dance. Ca-dance.
Love everypone, once that is done see to their needs, sowing the seeds.
Reap all the mirth, share with the Earth songs from the Heart, sweet Crystal Heart.
Oh how it shines, strong and divine, singing its song, come everypone.
Gaily we bellow, helping our fellow ponies so dear, Cadance is here. . .
"Welcome, my little ponies, to Tombstone Radio, where the dead talk, and pray the living listen. This is Reverend Bones coming to you live from the Cemetery. That last number is an old classic from Silver Song, may she rest in peace, reminding us all of the Holy Mother's love. Now I may not be at church, but Reverend Bones still has a sermon to preach.

“You see, everypony, I’ve been alive a long time. A long long time. And in that time, I’ve come to realize just how often ponies forget the teachings of the Holy Mother. It all comes down to one simple command, love. Love your family, friends, and yourself. Even your enemies. The CDF seems to understand that for the most part, but it’s these so-called ‘True Cadanites’ who don’t seem to get the memo. They’ve warped the Good Book’s teachings of love and tolerance into a call to war. So the next time any of you so-called ‘True Cadanites’ are overcome with the urge to burn a pony alive, Reverend Bones urges you to remember this verse. ‘But Cadance said to the Burned Stallion, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.’

“And speaking of those who persecute, I have some news for anypony daring to travel through the Crystal Wasteland. While the Burned Stallion ascended to be with the Holy Mother, his undead friends are still around and actively patrol their territory. So if you value your life, and I pray you do, I’d advise all of you to avoid Ghoul’s Point at all costs.

“And that’s all for now, listeners. I’m Reverend Bones, and you’re listening to Tombstone Radio. May the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

Under normal circumstances I would have processed the information I just heard, and reached a conclusion about this Reverend Bones. I would have reflected upon the verse he recited, and concluded he and I were like-minded individuals. I would have noticed he said he operated out of the Cemetery, which was one of the circled locations on the map. I also would have applauded his taste in music. But my mind could only process one sentence at the moment. "I’d advise all of you to avoid Ghoul’s Point at all costs."

I opened my mouth to yell for my companions.

If my mind was working properly I would have remembered the scar on my throat. In addition, I would have remembered my disgust at hearing my voice strained. But my instincts had taken over, and they commanded me to scream for my companions.

But no scream left my throat. Instead, the only sound I heard was that of gunfire.[1]

[1] Footnote: New Game! Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of things. First level is always the hardest. Good luck, and don’t die!
S. (5) P. (7) E. (6) C. (8) I. (6) A. (6) L. (2)

Author's Note

(Authors Note: Thank you all for reading this. I hope you enjoy Crystal Hearts, and will support the story by leaving feedback in the comments. As always, I’d like to thank Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria, and other writers who continue to contribute to the universe.
Before signing off I would like to clarify that Symphony is the protagonist of the story. Orchestra’s third person perspective was only meant to be included in the opening chapter, and barring unforeseen circumstances Symphony will continue to be the sole narrator of Crystal Hearts. Such circumstances include, but are not limited to, the death of the protagonist.)

1.2: Crescendo

Chapter 1.2 Crescendo

"Associate with ponies of good quality, if you esteem your own reputation, for it is better to be alone, than in bad company."

The initial shot was followed by two more in rapid succession. That left me with a plethora of possibilities. We could be attacked by three enemies, one enemy with a quick weapon, or two enemies. It was also possible there were more than three who had not attacked yet. And if that was the case, where were they? If I left the tent to investigate would I be ambushed?

I took a moment to breathe, and calm down.

Given how quickly the shots were fired the most likely explanation was one pony was using an automatic weapon, or a revolver. A revolver was more likely, as an automatic would have likely fired more than three. If my theory was correct, it added the possibility of Lyra being the shooter. In that case she had spent half of her chamber, and I had no idea what she was shooting. I was also unsure of where Missile was. Regardless if he was with Lyra or not, he was my responsibility. I had to protect him.

I approached the opening to the tent, and paused. Yes, I was supposed to look after Missile, but was it worth it? If Lyra was shooting, or, being shot at, then there was a foe of some sort waiting for me out there. Was it worth risking my hide for a brat I barely knew? I could feel my throat burning at the thought.

But that was the wrong question to ask. It was not about what I was willing to sacrifice, but what another pony already had. I found a question frequently hear during sermons pop into my head. What would Cadance do?

I rushed out of the tent.

Once I was outside, I was greeted with the sight of a ghoul. I had never seen one before, the decayed body parts around the campsite notwithstanding, but I recognized it instantly from my readings. Ghouls were ponies who had died after being exposed to massive amounts of radiation, but were resurrected by the Holy Mother as a show of mercy. Crystal ponies, however, were immune to the harmful effects of radiation. In actuality, radiation strengthened us and made our coats glisten. Therefore, all the ghouls in the Crystal Wasteland were outsiders.

What remained of the creature’s flesh was leathery, but I noticed many places where large chunks had rotted away. For example, its face. The ghoul had not yet noticed me, most likely because its eyes had rotted away. I loved my Goddess, but even I could admit this was a cruel mercy. Not to mention it reeked.

As the ghoul trudged past me, I lifted the sniper rifle around my neck.

The weapon was balanced on my shoulder, with my hooves cradling the barrel to keep it steady. I was not sure what to make of this behemoth. In its own way it was beautiful. The black paint was still smooth, and it appeared to be in good condition. But the length of the barrel, my approximation would be about twenty-four inches, made balancing the gun awkward. Not to mention it had the word “Savage” engraved into the barrel. Why did some ponies see fit to engrave words into a weapon’s barrel? Whatever the reason, I could not begin to fathom what kind of pony would christen their weapon Savage. Carbine notwithstanding.

I successfully lined up Savage’s scope with the ghoul’s head.

Should I take the shot? I had not heard any more gunfire since the initial triad of shots. If the battle had ceased, then what right did I have to initiate more conflict? It was entirely possible this ghoul was not violent. Reverend Bones’ statement indicated otherwise, but as a Cadanite it was my duty to offer mercy, even admittedly cruel mercy, to all of the Holy Mother’s children. Despite what Nero preached, outsiders were included. After all, thou shalt not kill.

I lowered the gun.

“Fuck me sideways!” Missile yelled.

"Missile, what did I tell you about using that wo—" Sombra was interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

I was prepared to conduct an analysis similar to when the revolver had fired. Sombra had stopped talking, so it was possible he had been shot. He had not screamed, so if he had been shot the wound was immediately fatal. There had also been multiple shots fired at one time, likely from an automatic or semi-automatic weapon. The most likely shooter would be Carbine, unless one of the ghouls had a gun. Or there was another enemy that was not a ghoul. My mind had been ready to go through all the alternatives.

That was until I witnessed the ghoul in front of me have its face vaporized by a barrage of bullets, which was quickly followed by a collective shout of, “Missile!”

In addition to, or instead of, finding Lyra, Missile had located a semi-automatic. It was likely he had found Captain Uziel’s personal weapon, the Uzi. I had not noticed it when I had discovered his body, but it was possible it had been there. Due to the concerned tones in the shouting of his name, I concluded the recoil caused by firing the gun had hurt him in some fashion. Analysis complete.

I approached my comrades.

My analysis had been spot on. Sombra was standing by the young colt, who appeared dazed but not seriously injured. At his side lay Captain Uziel’s gun; in front of him were three dead ghouls. While the one near the tent had been decapitated, these still kept their heads. At least, they kept the mushy remains of their heads.

Missile grinned when he saw me approach, and as he did so I noticed he was missing a tooth. “How do you like my battle scar, Symph? Doesn’t it make me look like a badass?”

Not in the slightest. There was no gash, or important body part missing. He had lost a tooth; he would lose more. Besides, it would grow back shortly disqualifying it from being a scar at all. Still, I had to remember to be nice to these ponies. He did have the Uzi after all.

I gave him a nod.

He chuckled before slumping over. Oh, how the mighty warrior hath fallen.

Carbine trotted up to the unconscious colt, whistling when he eyed the Uzi. “Now that sure is a beauty. It might even be more beautiful than Anne.” He levitated his own semi-automatic, which was no longer around his neck. He looked at both guns for a moment, before kissing the barrel of his gun. “Of course it’s not. Nothing will ever be more beautiful than my Anarchy.”

Anarchy? That was even worse than Savage. And I could think of something far more beautiful than his gun. Lyra stood nearby, holding Faith in her magic. She was reloading three bullets into the chamber, meaning she was the initial shooter. Once they had been placed into the gun, she spun the chamber and slid it back into place. Click.

“Ah,” she moaned. “I’ve always loved that sound.” That was certainly an odd turn on; I would have to remember it.

“And I’ve always loved that one,” Carbine practically sang.

I did not hear it right away. It was a low sound, but it gradually grew louder. A crescendo of growling. I really did not want to turn around to see a horde of growling, and possibly slobbering ghouls. One ghoul was disgusting enough.

Despite myself, I turned around to see what I would be dealing with.

A herd of thirteen growling, and slobbering, ghouls approached my companions and I. Okay, Symphony, we needed a plan. Missile was unconscious, and I knew I would be unable to kill any of them. That left our odds at three against thirteen. We did have the advantage of Anarchy and Faith being able to fire successive shots. The drawback was Faith had a significantly smaller chamber, and I doubted Carbine was an accurate shooter. He seemed more like a keep firing and hope I hit something type of fighter. The best strategy would to be provide both unicorns with an extra weapon. Magic allowed for dual-wielding, and I doubted the ghouls would survive an onslaught from four weapons at once.

I pulled the other magnum from my saddlebag, and tossed it to Lyra.

She caught it with her magic, not taking her eyes off the ghouls. She quickly glanced its way as she opened the chamber, and nodded once she noticed the rounds in the chamber. From where I stood I was able to see three. Assuming all of her shots were kills, Lyra could kill nine ghouls by herself. That left four for Carbine.

I glanced in his direction to see if he was prepared.

Instead of facing the enemy, Carbine’s eyes gleamed hungrily as he looked at me. Or more specifically, at my saddlebag. “Is that a shotgun?”

I nodded.

“Can… can I have it, Symph? Please?”

Only because he said please. Again, I nodded. And then he kissed me; he actually kissed me! I pushed him off of me, and wiped my mouth. I get that he was excited, but did he really have to use tongue?!

Carbine laughed as he fell onto the ground, levitating the gun and box of shells out of my bag. “I know that’s Thirteen’s job, but I just couldn’t help it. I just fucking love you so much right now!” He hopped onto his hooves, brandishing both Anarchy and the shotgun. “I am so fucking hard right now.”

Thank you for that, Carbine. I did not know how I would have made it through the day without you informing me of this.

Any unwanted thoughts of Carbine were quickly, and thankfully, removed when the battle started. Lyra fired four shots, emptying the second revolver and using one round from Faith. My hopes of her killing nine ghouls were dashed due to her erratic gunplay. Two ghouls were hit in their legs, which slowed them down noticeably, while one ghoul was hit in the ear and clipped in the shoulder, which failed to slow it down at all.

If anything, Lyra’s attacks made most of the ghouls faster. Instead of walking towards us like a horde of mindless zombies, most of the ghouls began trotting towards us; two of them broke into a full gallop. Lyra fired wildly at the pair, missing twice and clipping one of their ears. She had two shots remaining, but there was no need to use them.

One ghoul’s head was turned to paste by a spray of bullets, while the other had their head destroyed by a blast from Carbine’s shotgun. The maroon stallion howled as the bodies fell onto the snow-covered ground. “Alright, bitches, who wants some Anarchy and Tenacity?” He pumped the shotgun, quickly refilling it with a pair of shells.

The ghouls seemed unfazed by the deaths of their comrades. More ghouls started to trot, though the two Lyra shot in the legs were noticeably limping, while the rest of them galloped.

Before they could reach us, Sombra scooped up Missile and tossed him into my hooves. “Symphony, take Missile into one of the tents and watch him. Lyra, go with them. You can reload in there. If one enters the tent blow its head off.”

Lyra looked uncertain, but nodded. “Understood. Let’s go, Symphony.”

I threw Missile onto my back, and returned the nod. I took the lead, and started running towards the tent with Starfall,

As I ran, I heard Carbine talking. “Well this is nostalgic, eh, Somby? Just you and me against the world. Any particular orders you’d like to give?”

“Keep shooting.”

Psychotic laugher echoed around the camp. “Those are the best two words I’ve heard all day! Hail to the King!”

Carbine howled as he fired, while Lyra and I made it into the tent. She immediately reloaded her twin revolvers, and pushed them against the tent curtain. “If one of them pokes their head through I’ll blow it off. That sound like a plan, babe?”

I gave her an approving grunt, and picked up the locked box with the Fallen Angel’s cutie mark.

“What have you got there?”

I dropped it at her feet, and mimed opening it.

“Um, kinda busy at the moment. You know, guarding the entrance.”

I rolled my eyes. I was not saying she had to open it now. I just wanted her to know I needed her help with something.

She smiled, and pecked me on the cheek. “I’ll see what I can do. But only after the ghouls are gone.”

Mad e sense to me. Now that I had given her a weapon and the box, it was time to find her some barding. Lyra’s flanks were larger than the average mare’s. Not ridiculously so, but larger nonetheless. Though as much as I loved her larger flank, I could admit it was difficult finding a uniform suitable for it.

Each time I found a possible match I carried it over to Lyra, and pressed it against her lyre cutie mark. So far none had matched. The latest one had come close, but was still a little too small. As I was putting it in the discard pile with the others, I heard Lyra scoff.

“Really, Symphony? You have a chance to put my perfect ass in a tight suit, and you pass that up to find something more form fitting?” She shook her head. “I’m disappointed in you, baby. I thought you liked my ass more than that.” She emphasized her statement by spanking her flank.

I had to admit her actions were making me reconsider passing up the last uniform. Alas, I believed function trumped fashion. Lyra needed the ability to run, and the tighter the suit the less mobile she would be. Though, that did not mean I could not take the smaller uniform anyway. It could always be used for more… intimate purposes. I moved the uniform out of the discard pile, and continued my search.

By the time I reached the bottom of the trunk I was no closer to finding Lyra a match, though I had found one for myself. It was possible I could find other intact uniforms in another tent, but neither Sombra nor Carbine had given the word to come out yet. Either the fight was taking longer than I had anticipated, or they were scouting for more ghouls. If there were no matching uniforms in the trunk, and I could not look for others outside, I was left with one other option.

Due to the surprisingly minimal damage she suffered, Starfall’s uniform was intact. If memory served, Starfall’s flank was similar to Lyra’s. There was no logistical problem giving Lyra Starfall’s uniform; the problem was personal. I would feel wrong disturbing Starfall’s body. I had closed her eyes, and removed the knife to give her peace. Taking off her clothes would have been a violation. I could not do that to a friend.

Lyra seemed to notice me looking at Starfall for she asked, “Did you know her?”

I nodded.

“Know, as in, the two of you had met each other before? Or, as in, you know her special spot?”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

Lyra chuckled. “Alright, baby, I get it. It’s none of my business.” Under her breath she muttered, “Which means the second option.”

Ignoring the blush in my cheeks, I stuffed the smaller uniform into Lyra’s saddlebag. While it would not allow the same mobility as Starfall’s, I could not bring myself to violate her body. I expected Lyra to make a quip about me preferring the tighter uniform.

Instead, she motioned me closer with her hoof. Once I was close enough she nuzzled my neck, though she kept her eyes on the opening of the tent. “Do you know why I love you, Symphony?”

I had a feeling I knew where this was going. Given how she passed up the opportunity to make a crude joke a second ago, I expected Lyra to make a comment about my body. I shook my head.

She chuckled. “Neither do I.”

She did not know why she loved me? That was an odd thing to tell me. Was she trying to say we should be incompatible, but she loved me regardless? Perhaps she meant her love was impossible to accurately explain. Or, knowing Lyra, she only said it so I would overanalyze it to find her hidden meaning. As I was now. Given the teasing smirk on her face, I would say the third option was a good guess.

I wrapped a hoof around her neck, and pulled her as close to me as I possibly could.

I had no trouble admitting how irritating Lyra could be. Despite her teasing possessing a degree of charm, I sometimes found myself growing annoyed with her. But… she had a special quality about her I could not quite describe. I found it in her eyes, her smile, and in her music. I remembered falling in love with her the first time I heard her music. I wanted to tell her that. She would have called me a big sap, but it was true. I had loved her since our first meeting. If I could not tell her that, I at least wanted to kiss her.

I cradled her face in my hooves, and inched my lips close to hers.

Our intimate moment was ruined when a ghoul burst through the tent curtain.

Lyra pushed me off of her to focus on her enemy. She fired each of her guns twice, each shot ripping into the ghoul’s face. Wait, if she fired four times why were there so many bullet holes in its head? As the ghoul fell over, Carbine stepped through the tent with wide eyes.

“Holy shit that was nearly me! Now I’m really glad I didn’t peek my head in first.” He turned towards me, grinning. “By the way, thanks for Tenacity, Symph. I’m glad Anarchy finally found herself a boyfriend.”

His guns were now in a physical relationship? Wait, his guns had genders? Even if I could have asked I would have refrained. I truly did not want to know how his brain worked.

“Are they all dead?” Lyra asked.

Carbine nodded. “Yeah. There were a few other stragglers, but Sombra took care of them.”

Sombra and Carbine were able to defeat a force that annihilated a base of soldiers? I had trouble picturing Sombra as a warrior, mostly due to the acolyte robe he wore. Given this success, it only made me more curious as to those scars he spoke of earlier.

“Sombra, really? I can’t really imagine him as a killer,” Lyra mused, echoing my thoughts.

Carbine shook his head with a laugh. “I was surprised the first time too, but he fights like a demon. It’s no wonder they gave him that name.”

That caught my attention. I had assumed Sombra to have been his birth name. True, I had found the notion of a parent naming their child after the Black King farfetched. On the other hoof, I found it less likely a Cadanite would take the name of their own free will. What could have driven him to take such lengths? It was distressing how little I truly knew about the ponies I entrusted my life too. Even worse was any attempt to know them better was obstructed by my inability to speak. Again, thank you, Orchestra.

“Perhaps he could teach Symphony a thing or two. I think he’d be more suited to hoof-based combat. What do you think, babe?”

She had a point. I had struggled while handling Savage. If the ghoul had noticed me, it could have killed me before I had lined up a shot. Though on the other hoof, once I had a shot I was unable to take it. Even if I learned Sombra’s style of combat, I did not trust I would be able to kill another with it. However, perhaps I would not need to kill another pony; I could use his teachings only to incapacitate.

I shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lyra gave me a kiss on the cheek, then turned to Carbine with a sly smile. “Now, you take Missile.” She moved the unconscious pegasus onto Carbine’s back with her magic. “And leave me and my stallion alone together. He has some tight barding he’s dying to get me into.”

Carbine’s eyes drifted towards the pile of Cadanite uniforms, before briefly sweeping over Lyra’s flank. “Can’t say that I blame him.” He winked at me. “Enjoy your private time, you two.”

Idiot. I held up a hoof, and retrieved the map from my bag.

“What’s this, Symph?” Carbine asked as I passed it to him.

I puffed my chest out as far as I could, and frowned.

Carbine looked from me, to Lyra, and back to me before he threw his hooves up in the air. “I have no fucking clue what that’s supposed to mean. Any ideas, Thirteen?”

“He probably means Sombra. He’s puffing out his chest to resemble an earth pony; the frown is because Sombra rarely smiles. I’m guessing he wants you to give that to him.”

I nodded. While I did not know much regarding his personal life, I knew enough to judge Sombra as a reasonable pony. I trusted him to make good decisions concerning the well-being of our group. Thus, it only made sense for him to have the map as it would lead to more informed decisions.

Carbine opened the map. “And what have we got here, Symph?” As he looked over it his eyes grew wide. “Oh shit, this is a map. Fucking sweet! The King will be happy to know you found this.” Carbine gave me a salute, and skipped out of the tent.

Lyra whistled softly, but loud enough for me to hear. “I wonder how he would look in one of these uniforms.”

I ignored her, instead focusing on putting on my barding. I had all four of my hooves in the sleeves, but was having trouble with the zipper. It was located on my back, in a place almost impossible to grip with either hooves or teeth. A truly genius design choice.

“Need help, oh great warrior?”

I nodded with a grunt.

Lyra chuckled, and trotted towards me. She ran her hoof across my back, before leaning towards the zipper with her mouth open.

I pointed at her horn with a cocked eyebrow.

“Because there’s no intimacy if I use my magic. Now hold still.” She paused to wink. “I wouldn’t want to bite you on accident.”

Oh, I sincerely doubted that. But I was not in the mood, so I stood still. She gave me a teasing grunt, but thankfully did not bite me as she did my zipper.

“You’re good to go, soldier.”

I stepped away from Lyra, and began to pace around the room. The uniform was incredibly comfortable. It fit my body perfectly, and I was able to move without too much difficulty. And, as an added bonus, it did not itch.

“You look nice in uniform.” I rolled my eyes, anticipating a lewd punch line. “No, I mean it. You look really nice.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “I’m sure your sister would have been proud.”

…She would have been. Orchestra had been coaxing me into joining the CDF for years. She nearly had me convinced when she spoke of the CDF’s choir, who toured from base to base performing for the soldiers. If I had not met Lyra, I more than likely would have joined. For all I knew, I would be beside Orchestra in Nero’s cult.

I truly expected to see disdain in Lyra’s eyes as she mentioned Orchestra. After all the insults and attempted homicide, she had every right to hate my sister. Instead, she looked somber. I reached over to gently touch her cheek with my hoof.

She chuckled, and held my hoof in hers. “This is going to sound bad, Symphony. Really, really bad. And I want you to give me a second to explain myself before you get angry with me. Promise you’ll let me finish first?”

I hesitated a moment, but nodded.

Lyra sighed, kissed my hoof, and looked me in the eye. “I’m glad Orchestra hit you with that knife.”

She was right; her statement did sound terrible. I understood what she meant, though. If I had not taken the hit Lyra would have been horribly injured. While Lyra knew doctors who were not biased towards non-crystal ponies, I could count the ones I knew on four hooves or less. Orchestra certainly would not have helped me save her. If Lyra had been hit instead…

She touched her hoof to my neck as she continued. “I’m not glad that she hurt you, or anything like that. I miss hearing you singing to me, talking to me. It’s been so long I’m starting to forget how you used to say you loved me.” She wrapped her hooves around my neck, holding me close.

“But if that crazy cunt didn’t do this to you I would have lost you. You can tell me otherwise all you want, but we both know it’s true. You would have joined the CDF, and probably would have fallen in love with some wonderful Cadanite mare. Maybe you would have gotten back with your former lover. All I know is I would have been alone without you, Symphony.”

I felt tears splash against my neck. Even if I could speak, I was unsure of what I would have said to her. This outburst was too sudden for me to have anything prepared. But, I was glad it was sudden. It meant this was not manufactured to get some reaction out of me, nor to influence a particular decision. All it meant was she loved me, which was plenty.

I kissed her horn, and returned her embrace. I felt as though I could have stayed in her hooves for generations. I felt at home, minus the leaky roof and terrible food.

“Symphony, could you come out here? I’d like to speak with you.”

But alas, duty called. Since I was wearing a CDF uniform I felt compelled to answer the call.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have changed by the time you get back,” Lyra winked.

Despite my stallion urges convincing arguments telling me to stay with her, I left the tent to speak with Sombra. As soon as I exited the tent a hoof collided with my cheek. I had not been kicked so much as punched by Sombra. The impact knocked me into the snow with a soft crunch. No wonder he had been able to take out the ghouls. His hoof was as solid as a block of ice.

Lyra burst her head through the tent, glaring at Sombra as if he were the actual Black King. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just a bit of sparring, Lyra. First lesson, Symphony, always be on your guard,” he said with an outstretched hoof.

I should have expected this. Of course lessons would be hooves-on, and, given our environment, the sooner I learned the better. I just wished his first attack would not have been so hard. A warning would have been appreciated as well.

I reached out to grab his hoof.

Sombra snaked his leg around mine, and twisted my leg around to my backside. “Second lesson, Symphony, be sure to keep control over your enemy.” He released me, and pointed to the knife in my bag. “That knife should serve you well. When you find yourself in danger hold it, but don’t intend to use it.”

While rubbing my sore leg, I cocked an eyebrow.

He outstretched his hoof again. “Do you mind if I see your knife for a second?”

I hesitated. If I gave him the knife he might have tried to use it against me. Even if these lessons were for my benefit, I want to be played for a fool. More importantly, I also did not want to be stabbed.

Approval filled Sombra’s eyes. “Your hesitation shows me you’re learning, Symphony. Very good. But in all seriousness, I do require the knife for a demonstration.”

Even still, I refused. He may not have stabbed me, but a hit from the blunt end of the knife would hurt as well. The lesson would most likely be to never trust your enemy. I seemed to have already learned it. I glanced at Lyra, and cocked my head towards the knife. She nodded, and used her magic to float it to Sombra. He grabbed the knife in his mouth, and gave the two of us an approving nod. He motioned for me to approach, and I obliged.

Sombra tilted his head towards me, aiming the knife in my direction. When I adjusted my position, he tilted his head again. He continued to do so each time I moved. No matter where I went the knife was always pointing at me. Not only did the threat of being stabbed keep me at a distance, which gave Sombra time to plan his strategy, but it also influenced my movements as I was trying to avoid it. Being on my guard and controlling my enemies were important lessons to learn, but what was the plan if an enemy did not adhere to my will?

The next time Sombra turned his head towards me I moved closer towards him.

Sombra’s throat rumbled, almost as if he were purring. It seems I had made the correct decision. He moved onto his backlegs, spreading them apart. He held one of his front hooves in front of him, with the other pressed close against it. My assumption was the second hoof was placed to steady the initial one. The first hoof was prepared to either punch or block me. Or perhaps it could lock me into place, and the knife could stab me. Aside from having no protection against firearms, I could not detect an obvious weakness in Sombra’s stance. Though, to be fair, I doubted there was any stance that could provide protection from bulets.

I mimicked his stance, and drew closer.

Sombra, however, grunted, and plunged the knife into the snow. “You’re picking up the basics, Symphony. That’s enough progress for your first session. Now, we have to plan our destination.

As I placed the knife back into my bag, Sombra retrieved the map from his.

“This map is a great find. Not only does it give us a layout of the Crystal Wasteland, but it also informs us of danger areas.” He pointed to the red circles, before pointing to the border with Equestria. “This is our destination.” His hoof moved towards Ghoul’s Point. “And here’s where we are. As long as we can get to our destination safely I don’t mind which route we take. However, I would like to go here.” Sombra put his hoof on the Cemetery, a red circle.

Lyra grimaced. “But isn’t that a danger area? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Sombra nodded. “Yes, but I believe it’s worth the risk. I’ve been listening to Reverend Bones for a good year now. He shares my sentiments when it comes to Nero’s cult. Not only would he welcome us for a night, but I feel it is my duty to warn him about the CDF’s intentions.”

I pointed to the map, and recreated Sombra’s fighting stance.

He shook his head. “I have no intention of fighting anypony I don’t have to. If the CDF attacks us while we’re there I’ll defend myself, but I don’t intend on doing anything more for the Reverend than warning him.”

That sounded reasonable enough to me. I was in no hurry to sacrifice my life for this Reverend Bones, but he seemed like a stallion I would like to meet. According to my knowledge of maps it would be roughly a week, give or take a few days, to reach our final destination. In that case we needed provisions. We head weapons, ammunition, and some of us had armor, but we were not exactly abundant on either food or water.

I tapped Carbine on the shoulder.

“What is it, Symph?”

I nudged his saddlebag, and opened and closed my mouth.

“And, why do you want to bite my bag?”

What I was attempting to ask was whether he had been able to scavenge any food. Fortunately Lyra had seen my attempt, and verbally asked him for me.

Carbine grimaced. “Kinda.” He magically lifted two cans out of his bag, and passed them to me. “I was able to fill up those two with fruit and some veggies, but there wasn’t much to work with. The other four are still empty.”

This could become a problem. Lyra and Sombra still had some food on them, so we were not in danger of hunger fatigue anytime soon. However, stopping to resupply needed to be a priority. There was one town on the map I recognized as a trader’s town. It was close, and on the way to the Cemetery. I pointed to a small dot marked “Hospitality,” and pointed to Carbine’s cans.

“Hospitality? What’s that mean?” Carbine asked.

I considered answering his question, or I would have if I was capable of speech, until I noticed the grim smile on his face. Funny, I did not know Carbine was capable of irony. Well played.

His comment also caused me to ponder for a moment. What would my life have been like if I were born as a non-crystal pony? What would it be like to be looked upon as inferior by so many others, or to be hunted like an animal? I may not have liked Carbine very much, I was still not sure if I liked him at all, but my heart went out to him in that moment.

“Hospitality is the friendly reception a host shows to their guests. So unless the name is ironic, this is probably one of the friendliest towns in the Crystal Wasteland.” Lyra explained.

“Oh really? Maybe some of the mares in town will be glad to show us a friendly reception, right, Symphy?” Carbine winked.

I retracted my empathetic thoughts. Whether or not Carbine had endured hardships, he was still annoying. I mean, really? Symphy? It was closer to my name than Symph, yet it also removed all of the dignity. I did not bother snorting at him; rather, I gazed at Sombra as I awaited his decision.

He nodded, though his eyes did not leave the map. “I’m familiar with this town. There are peaceful ponies there; I doubt our non-crystal companions will run into any trouble.”

Carbine grimaced, crossing his hooves like a spoiled child. “That’s no fun, Somby. I don’t like going places where I don’t get to shoot things.”

Lyra chuckled, and sensually stalked towards Carbine. “Yeah, but look at the bright side. If this is a town that really does live up to its name, then there will be plenty of young mares wanting to make you feel as welcome as possible.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to shoot my guns at pretty mares. Even I know that’s counterproductive, Thirteen.”

I was surprised the word counterproductive was even in his vocabulary.

A mischievous twinkle lit in Lyra’s eyes as she asked, “Who said you’ll be shooting them with your guns?” She angled her eyes downward for a brief moment. “Seems to me that you’re packing something pretty impressive in that holster between your legs.”

I never liked the word ew; I had always found it juvenile. Yet as Lyra discussed Carbine’s… stallionhood, ew was the only word going through my mind.

Carbine’s eyes returned the twinkle. “Damn straight. It’s impressive and fully loaded!”

EW! That time I could see the word in capital letters in my mind. Still, at least I was not seeing images of Carbine’s… too late. I turned away from the conversation, burying my face in my hooves.

“Hey, what’s wrong with Symph?” Missile asked, finally waking up.

“I think he’s had about enough of this conversation as I have. When you two are done flirting with each other I’d like to get a move on,” Sombra growled.

The two flushed slightly, and Carbine flushed harder when Lyra nudged his flank with hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done flirting with other stallions, right dear?”

I nodded without looking at her.

Lyra chuckled, and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Sorry I wasn’t able to put the suit on. I’ll do it sometime tonight.” Her eyes turned grim, and she began to trot away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see if I can get to that opening that box for you. And while I’m out and about, I might as well erase all my tracks to throw off the Great Cunt.”

Since her back was turned Lyra failed to notice me flinch. It was not her actions which bothered me. I had listened to Orchestra speak of Nero’s cult enough to understand how he operated. He used parties of four to hunt for heathens. These groups consisted of a priest, a tracker, a ranged specialist, and a melee specialist. Even if everypony had their tracks covered, I had little doubt she would find signs of our group eventually. She did have a professional tracker on her side.

However, if just Lyra were to hide her tracks, it was possible the tracker would think we were just a group of stallions. And any signs of life could be attributed to the four of us. Orchestra may have been brainwashed into believing all non-crystal ponies, and their associates, deserved to burn, but I doubted she would follow any trail she knew did not belong to Lyra. This was a personal hunt.

That was the reason I flinched when I heard Lyra refer to my sister as the “Great Cunt.” I was far from forgiving her for cutting me. Very far. Yet, she was still my big sister. This was the same pony who played “Hush Now Quiet Now” for me on her flute when I was a foal. Yes, her ideologies were twisted beyond comprehension, but she was still trying to protect me from something she saw as evil. Could I really fault her for looking after her little brother? My heart told me no; the scar on my neck told me yes. For now, I remained undecided on what I truly thought of my sister.

***

Hospitality was not what I expected it to be. I was familiar with the town, yes, but had not visited it myself. Orchestra was always complaining about how accepting the town was of “heathens,” and “infidels,” so I knew it would be accepting of all of my companions. If there was one thing I could always rely on my sister for it was gossip. In addition, of course, to near fratricide… it was going to be a while before I would get over her attack.

What I truly needed was some time alone with my thoughts. It would take more than one session, but I believed the only way I would be able to accept my situation would be to reconcile the two extremes. Sadly, every time I found a moment to think there was always a distra—

“Look, Bro, a comic vendor!”

—ction. Just like that, I was returned to my original train of thought concerning Hospitality. I had expected a small dot of a town. There would have been a few houses, a town hall, which may have also doubled as either the church or the schoolhouse, and nearly every mare would have worn a bonnet. That had been my image of Hospitality.

“Give me back my money, asshole!”

“Fuck you, ya cock-eyed shit.”

Clearly I had been mistaken.

The streets of Hospitality were lined with traders and vendors trying to sell their wares. I found a unicorn selling zebra love potions, two fillies selling scented candles, and a crystal earth pony peddling crystal jewelry. There were so many more I had trouble keeping track of them all, mostly due to the noise caused by all the negotiating.

Though that was not the only major cause of noise. In the town square was a marble statue of the Great Defector. Prior to the Great Zebra War, when the Old Empire was under the control of the Black King, the Empire had been saved by a dragon. He had been christened as “Great and Honorable S—e the Brave and Glorious." But when the war started he abandoned the Old Empire in favor of the Shadow Goddess.

His treachery was so deep nopony dared to speak his name, and only identified him as the Great Defector. The statue I saw in Hospitality must have been erected as a testament to his heroic side that had yet to be taken down. Though I had to admit, I was glad it remained. The craftsmanship used was impressive.

Though the craftsmanship was not why there was a crowd in front of the statue. No, that honor went to the young pegasus mare. She was using the statue as a pole, and was conducting various tricks. Her favorite trick was to use slide down a finger of the statue’s claws, and use her wings to propel her to the next one. Her athletic prowess, along with her incredibly beautiful grey coat, would have made for an entertaining show. What made the show… memorable, was her choice of clothing. The mare was wearing a lacy pair of black panties, and bright pink socks on each of her legs.

I tried to look away from the vulgar display, but found it impossible to ignore the grey pegasus.

So did many others. Passing mares looked on with disgust and envy, and occasionally interest. The stallions whistled, many throwing bits at the statue’s feet. One such stallion was Carbine.

“Hopefully she’ll show me some hospitality later!” he hollered.

Some in the crowd laughed at his statement, while others yelled similar phrases. I decided to retain my silence, although my scar was not the reason why. Being unable to remove my eyes from the pegasus was no excuse to make an ass of myself. Now, Symphony, mind your language.

Speaking of rear ends, she was crawling up the statue’s face with her behind facing towards me. My cheeks were growing hot, and I felt the urge to contribute to the pile of bits.

Carbine gave another whistle, and prodded Sombra. “How do you like the show, my King?”

A deep rumble came from Sombra’s throat. “A stallion of Cadance knows better than to watch such a thing.”

“Oh, then why are you still looking?” Lyra added.

The older stallion grunted, and turned his back on the performer. “I’m going to find us an inn to stay for the night. You three can stay here and enjoy the show if you wish. Missile, you’re coming with me. You’re too young to watch this.”

Missile was perched on Carbine’s head, with his wings fully extended. He was even slightly drooling. “Aww, can’t I stay with Bro? At least for five minutes?”

Sombra turned Missile’s head, and looked the colt dead in the eye. “No.”

Argument over.

Missile flinched, and fluttered onto Sombra’s back with a lowered head. Sombra gave the three of us a curt nod before walking off. I caught Missile trying to catch one glance at the performer, but, once he saw Sombra’s glare, he threw up his hood.

The older stallion’s eyes softened after a moment. “You did well earlier today, Missile. As a reward I’ll take you shopping after I’ve found us a place to sleep. Didn’t you say something about a comic vendor?”

Missile peeked out from under his hood. Once he realized Sombra was serious, he beamed. “That’s right! They might have the next issue of Flash! Hopefully this one won’t end in another cliffhanger…” The rest of their conversation was lost in the sounds of the town.

“For this next part I’m going to need a partner. Do I have any volunteers?”

The pegasus was now standing on the statue’s head, surveying the crowd. As her eyes fell upon my area of the crowd I began to feel apprehensive. As a stallion, I wanted to participate with her. As the coltfriend of Lyra Heartstrings XIII, my hooves were tied.

Lyra put a hoof on my shoulder, grinning like an idiot. “What are you just standing around for? Go get her, champ.”

She shoved me forward with such force that I barreled through the crowd. I landed on my belly, and looked up at my surroundings. The ponies around me were laughing, Carbine especially. My glare instantly shut him up.

I rose to my hooves, dusted myself off, and turned to make my way back into the crowd when I felt a hoof on my shoulder.

“Aww, now don’t be like that, soldier. They’re just laughing because they’re jealous. Aren’t you, boys?” That shut the rest of crowd right up. The pegasus giggled behind me. “Won’t you turn around to look at me? It’s rude for a soldier to ignore a lady.”

“So, he’s brash and he’s cute. What’s your name, stud?”

I pointed to the scar on my neck.

She gave me a solemn nod, before following it up with a grin. “Strong silent type, huh? I like that. Tell me, stud, do you dance?”

I knew where this was going. I had taken a few classical dance classes before with Orchestra as my partner. It had been awkward, yes, but I had learned to love the tango. However, I doubted this pegasus had a tango in mind. I shook my head.

She giggled again. “Don’t worry; I’ll teach you.”

I did not like the sound of that. At least, not as Lyra’s coltfriend. Granted, she seemed to have no qualms about me enjoying myself with this pegasus, but I still felt uncomfortable. I looked over at Lyra, not sure how to proceed. Still grinning, my marefriend gave me a wink as she trotted away. Oh, no. I was not going to allow her to leave me alone. There was no telling what I would do with this mare if I went unsupervised.

I gave the pegasus an apologetic glance, and took off after Lyra.

“Hey, where are you going?” the pegasus demanded.

“Yeah, Symph.” Carbine was pointing towards the performer. “The hottie is back that way.”

I ignored him, continuing my pursuit. It took a few minutes, but I spotted her speaking with a vendor. He was a stout cerulean stallion, with thick round glasses. His stall had the word “Insterments” written on the bottom, along with pictures of various instruments. Behind his stall was a tent, which I assumed was where he did his work. I hoped his musical talent surpassed his spelling.

“May I see it?” the stallion asked.

“Of course.” Lyra opened her saddlebag, and levitated her lyre out.

The sight of it brought back a string of unpleasant memories. I could still hear my sister screaming as Lyra smashed the lyre into her head. I also recalled hearing a crack, though I was never sure if it was Orchestra’s skull or the lyre. Given my sister’s screams and Lyra not playing her instrument since, I had assumed it was most likely both. Now that I could see the lyre firsthoof, it was definitely both. There was a large dent in the base of the instrument, two of the strings had snapped, while a third was badly frayed. I had always known my sister to be thick-headed, but I had never thought she would be able to dent solid gold.

It stung to realize the last image I would ever have of my sister was of her screaming with a split head.

The stout stallion took the lyre in his hooves, giving it a thorough inspection. He cast a suspicious glance at Lyra. “May I ask how you managed to damage your instrument?”

Lyra gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, I went to visit my coltfriend and his sister. She said some things, I said some things. She pulled a knife, and next thing I know her brother’s bleeding from the neck, and I’ve hit her in the head.”

The stallion smiled wryly. “In-laws, huh? I can empathize.” He placed the lyre on his stall, and adjusted his glasses. “While I do feel for you, I’m afraid I can’t give you a sympathy discount. The strings can be replaced without much of a problem, but the dent is quite extensive. I can have it repaired by this evening, tomorrow morning at the latest. But the job costs two-hundred bits.”

Lyra slammed her hoof on the stall. “Two hundred? That’s outrageous! I’d be willing to part with 150 at the most.”

“150?” The stallion took another long look at the lyre. “I’d have to cut a few corners for 150, but the job can still be done. If you want it done right, 180.”

“160,” Lyra offered.

“175,” he countered.

“Would you be willing to do the job for 165?”

He shook his head. “One hundred-seventy-five bits. That’s my final offer. If you don’t like it you can take your busted instrument someplace else.”

Lyra scowled. “Fine, deal.” She shook the stallion’s hoof, while levitating a sack of money from her saddlebag. “This is disappointing. I was hoping to get something special for my coltfriend.” Lyra dropped a pile of coins in front of the stallion. “Do you know anywhere cheap?”

The stallion shook his head. “This is Hospitality, not charity.”

Lyra’s scowl deepened, and she rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the tip.” Before leaving, she gently stroked her lyre. “Mommy’s going to be gone for a little while. But when she comes back you’re going to be nice, and shiny, and pretty again. And we’ll perform a song Symphony will never forget.”

Seeing Lyra cooing at an inanimate object bordered on Carbine levels of strange. Though the promise of an unforgettable song more than made up for the bizarre behavior. I approached Lyra, tapping her on the shoulder.

Her eyes widened as she turned around to see me. “Symphony! I thought you were still in the town square.”

I shook my head.

Her nose wrinkled, and her eyes narrowed. She stepped towards me, and poked me several times in the chest. “And why aren’t you over there? I told you to have fun, didn’t I?”

Why was she upset? I had shown my loyalty to her. As far as I was concerned that was a good thing. There was always the possibility she was joking with me, but I doubted it. Her poking was a tad too hard for teasing. I pointed to my heart; then I pointed to hers.

She replied with a mirthless smile. “’I belong to you,’ huh? That’s why you didn’t stay with the performer?”

I nodded.

She raised her eyebrow, as she looked me up and down. “There’s just no corrupting you is there, Symphony?”

Not quite sure how to respond to her question, I shrugged.

“Is this the stallion you were speaking of?”

Lyra wrapped a hoof around my neck with a shake of her head. “Indeed, he is. He may be the most self-righteous pony in the Crystal Wasteland, but he’s all mine.”

The most self-righteous pony in the Crystal Wasteland? Please, had she met my sister? My throat burned at the thought. Oh, right, she had.

The stout stallion rubbed his forehead as he regarded me. “Self-righteous, you say? In that case, I’d recommend visiting the green unicorn by the fountain. She’ll have something perfect for him.”

Lyra chuckled, and flashed him a grin. “So much for not living in charity.”

The stallion smiled back. “What can I say? I have a soft spot for couples.”

Lyra reached a hoof into her bag, retrieving a bit. She flipped it towards the stallion. “Thanks for the tip.”

He tipped his glasses, presumably because he was not wearing a hat, and retreated into the tent with the lyre. When he was gone, Lyra gave me a playful shove.

“You heard him. To the fountain we go.”

***

“He was right; this is perfect for you.”

Lyra and I had arrived at a tent, which held shelves stocked with figurines inside. I was currently examining one I held in my hoof. While some had been carved from crystal, this particular one was made of porcelain. It depicted the Holy Mother with her hooves together, as if she were leading a prayer. It was a fitting pose given the inscription on the pedestal she stood on. “Have Faith,” it read.

“Are you going to buy that, Mister Soldier?”

The speaker was a lime-green crystal earth pony. He was wearing a green cap, with a brown vest decorated with badges. I recognized that uniform; it belonged to the Colt Scouts of Equestria. That explained the figurines. They must have been for a merit badge.

I looked over at Lyra, and raised the figurine.

She replied with a good-natured sigh. “Figures. You would pick the figurine of Cadance.” She slipped a hoof into her saddlebag. “How much do I owe ya?”

The Colt Scout glanced at the figurine for a moment before answering. “That one? It’s sixty bits with the CDF discount.”

“Sixty?” Lyra sounded surprised. “How do you figure that?”

He smiled innocently at her. “Because I worked really hard on that one. And it’s really high quality."

I gave the figurine another glance. Upon closer inspection I began to notice some of the flaws in the work. One of the Holy Mother’s wings was chipped, and the color had begun to fade from her horn and right hoof. They were minimal mistakes, but did slightly diminish the quality of the work. Though it was still quite good, especially for a Colt Scout.

Lyra smiled at him, taking a hoof full of bits out of her bag. “Alright, but only since you worked really hard on it. Sixty it is.”

She dropped the bits into a pouch attached to the colt’s cap. He gave her a friendly tip of the cap.

“Would you like a case for it? It’s free.”

I nodded without any hesitation.

“Okay, I’ll go get it.” The colt trotted behind the counter, quickly returning with a lacquerware case in his mouth. He placed in Lyra’s hoof, smiling. “Will that be all?”

“Yes.” She opened the case, and placed the figurine inside. “Thank you.” She flashed him a smile, as we trotted out of the tent.

Like the square, the fountain area was heavily populated. In addition to the vendors and performers, there was also a set of benches, a group of children, and a tavern. A rickety sign was hanging above the doorway reading: The Stumbling Stallion.

Chuckling, Lyra cocked her head towards the door. “Care for a drink?”

My immediate reaction was to say no, or at least shake my head. I had heard enough sermons on alcohol to observe a strict temperance. The only time I had broken my rule was when I was of legal age, and at my sister’s persistence. I wished I could say whether I regretted it or not, but the whole night remained a blur. All I could remember was my sister waking up in the middle of the night to throw up, and immediately falling asleep after. Needless to say, my one memory was not exactly pleasant. Still, it was better than remembering her screaming.

Following my initial instinct, I shook my head.

Lyra shrugged, and walked towards an empty bench. “If you won’t drink with me, then the least you can do is keep me warm.” She hopped onto the bench, sitting on her hindquarters as her back legs dangled off the side. She tapped the empty space next to her. “Come on, Symphony. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”

Lyra, a lady? That was certainly an overstatement. I followed her onto the bench, chuckling. At least, I tried to chuckle. Instead, I only managed a faint rasping sound. Getting used to my injury was going to take a long time…

“It’s because you make me smile.”

I gave Lyra a perplexed look.

She rubbed her muzzle against my neck. “That’s why I love you. It’s because you make me smile, Symphony. Voice or no, you’ll always be my special somepony.” She tapped off her sentiment with a kiss to my neck.

I wrapped a hoof around her, gently rubbing the back of her neck. She practically purred, as she continued to kiss me. I wanted to kiss her back, but was suddenly aware of a pair of yellow eyes staring at me.

The eyes belonged to an earth pony filly around Missile’s age. She was wearing a tattered white tunic, which was nearly black from all the dirt. Her expression was weary, her yellow mane full of grime. The filly outstretched her brown hooves, both slightly bruised. She did not say anything; she just stared at me with her piercing eyes.

I caved, and dropped a few bits into her hooves.

Even with all the dirt and grime on her face, the filly’s ensuing smile was truly a beautiful sight. She tightly wrapped her hooves around one of my legs, dropping most of the bits, and gave a shrill squeak. To the best of my knowledge, she was trying to say thank you. She quickly retrieved the fallen coins, and scampered off with a wave.

I felt good doing that; something, I had not felt in some time. As I watched the filly run off, I could feel the ghost of a smile creeping on my face. I held both of my front hooves in front of me, and gently tapped my chest.

“You’re happy?” Lyra asked.

I nodded.

She patted me on the back. “Then I won’t burst your bubble.”

I gave her another puzzled glance.

She grimaced slightly, and pointed with her hoof. She was pointing at the filly, who was now standing beside an older stallion. The stallion appeared to be around my age, but was unusually gaunt. He was not so thin that his ribs were showing, but thin enough for me to assume he had not had a decent meal in quite some time. The stallion patted the filly’s head, as she dropped the coins into a purse. Picking up the purse, the stallion trotted past us into the tavern. Once he had disappeared, the filly galloped towards the town square.

“Do you see?”

To be honest, I had no clue. My interpretation was the filly had been begging on another’s behalf, but he used the money to buy alcohol instead of food. I supposed it was possible he would be ordering a meal at the tavern, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he walked by. But I was not sure if I saw what Lyra was implying.

“It’s common courtesy. He was older, and probably working this area before she came along. If she hadn’t have given him the money he likely would have taken it from her.”

I opened my mouth in a silent gasp.

Lyra just scoffed. “Oh, please, don’t feel sorry for her. The dirt on her face hadn’t caked yet, so it was relatively fresh. She probably added it before the snow fell. That grime was probably just mashed up food she used for effect, and the tunic was probably thrown into some dirty water. She wasn’t skinny enough to be starving, either. She’s well fed and just trying to earn some extra coin. Probably found enough soft hearts to prey on.” She chuckled, and nudged my flank. “Soft hearts, like somepony I know.”

I supposed I should have felt upset that I had been manipulated. Even more so that my charitable donation had most likely been spent on booze. Yet, I still felt happy from that filly’s smile. No matter how fake the dirt on her face had been, that smile was real. The scar on my neck was proof ponies were capable of evil deeds; the filly’s smile showed me they still had good in them.

Perhaps that was the beauty of Hospitality. It was not a utopia, my recent encounter taught me that, nor was it exactly charitable. Despite this, there seemed to be enough for ponies to stay and be happy. They had to be happy; nopony could smile like that if they were not. I looked over at Lyra. She was still grimacing, but there was that twinkle in her eye. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I assumed she felt it too. Hospitality was certainly not Haven, but it was better than travelling.

I held my front hooves in front of me, and thrust them downward.

Her eyes widened. “Stay? Symphony, I don’t think I understand.”

I raised a hoof, and gestured to the town around us.

“Here?” She hopped off the bench, and glared at me. “Symphony, that’s insane.”

Turns out it was wishful thinking.

“Sure the town is nice enough, but we’ve only been here for a couple hours. Probably not even that! Do you really think we should just stay in a town we barely know?”

That was not my exact thought, no. I merely figured if the town was suited to Lyra and I, then we could stay. If not, we would continue our travels. I was not sure how to present my thought process to Lyra, so I went with a simple answer. I curtly nodded.

She rubbed her temples, and continued to groan. “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s just pretend I don’t think this plan is completely stupid. What about the others?”

I snorted.

She gave a conceding shrug. “Okay, so they’re not the best friends you’ve ever had. And we haven’t been travelling with them for long. I’ll give you that. But they stuck their neck out for us. They let us join their group, and Carbine and Sombra fought those ghouls to protect us.”

I mimed flipping through a comic.

She groaned. “Yes, they were also saving Missile, but because they trusted us with him. Like them or not, Symphony, we’re practically a family.”

Family. I could feel my scar throbbing as I thought of my family. My real family. I hoped Lyra would pardon me if the word family left me feeling wary rather than loving. I turned my head from her, gently rubbing the scar.

In my peripheral vision, I saw her flinch. She reached out a hoof, hesitated, then returned her hoof to the ground. She took a few steps towards the square, before looking back at me. “I’m going to find Carbine. We probably shouldn’t have left him alone. Are you going to come with me?”

My only response was to continue rubbing my throat.

“Alright. I’ll see you later tonight. Love you.”

I listened to her hoofsteps as she trotted away. They clopped loudly, but they gradually grew quieter. Eventually, I was unable to hear them at all. Still, I did not turn around. I placed a hoof on my face, and shook my head.

Why was I being so stubborn? Staying in Hospitality was definitely a possibility, but not one I wanted to fight over. I had no problems with an argument, but once she referred to Sombra and Carbine as family… perhaps Orchestra had damaged more than just my throat.

As my eyes wandered, I found myself staring at the case in my saddlebag. Even though I could not see her, I still felt the warm gaze of the Holy Mother. “Have Faith.” Faith, huh? I did have faith, faith in her teachings. I also had faith in Lyra. I had… that was all. I wanted to have faith in ponies, in that filly’s smile. But I did not. Aside from the Goddess and Lyra, I was all out.

Have Faith.

I reached into my saddlebag, pulling out the radio. If there was one thing I needed right now it was a sermon. I had only listened to Tombstone Radio once, but Reverend Bones sounded like a reasonable stallion. Hopefully he would tell me the words I needed to hear.

I switched on the radio, and fiddled with the antennae until I received reception.

“So hold me 'neath the thunderclouds, my heart held in your hooves,

Our love will keep the monsters from our door.

For I know tomorrow will be a better day.

Yes, I believe tomorrow can be a better day..."

"Welcome, my little ponies, to Tombstone Radio, where the dead talk, and pray the living listen. This is Reverend Bones coming to you live from the Cemetery. That was a classic from Sweetie Belle, one of the classiest mares I ever knew. He paused for a raspy chuckle. That’s right, listeners, I actually got to meet the face of Stable-Tech; I even knew Rarity too.”

Again, he paused. It was almost as if he had remembered something troubling, and had to gather his thoughts.
“If you would all indulge me, the Reverend has a parable he’d like to share. Once upon a time, a good two-hundred years ago, there were two sisters. The younger sister loved the older, did everything she could to make her happy. But the older saw the younger sister as an annoyance, and eventually drove her away. When she realized just how much she missed her little sister, the older one did everything she could to get her back. She endured unimaginable ordeals for her the sake of their sistership. And in the end, she got her sister back.”

A raspy sigh left his throat. “The older sister learned an important lesson that day. Family isn’t always easy; but there’s no doubt it’s worth fighting for. Take it from me, listeners, it’s a lesson I wish I had learned before it was too late.”

A ludic saxophone and piano duet began playing. There were no lyrics, but I had no trouble connecting to the music. It was relaxed and joyous. I was not sure if the Reverend picked the song at random, or if it was meant to simulate a cozy feeling. The kind of feeling normally associated with family.

“And before I leave you all with this hit from the Echoes, I have a verse from the Good Book I’d like to share.” The sound he made when clearing his throat sent chills down my spine. “’He who brings trouble on his family will inherit only wind, and the fool will be servant to the wise.’ Just a little food for thought, listeners. I’m Reverend Bones, and you’re listening to Tombstone Radio. May the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

Finally having time alone to think, I let the song play on while I contemplated the sermon. Was it possible the parable of the two sisters was applicable to me and Orchestra? While I would not consider myself an annoyance to her, there was no doubt she had pushed me away. Was it possible she was desperately trying to find a way to make it right? Even if she was, should I accept her efforts?

“Family isn’t always easy; but there’s no doubt it’s worth fighting for.”

Was he right about that? If it was truly worth fighting for then I should forgive Orchestra in a heartbeat. Though it did beg the question of what constitutes a family. According to Lyra, Carbine could be considered family. Dealing with him for survival reasons was doable. Difficult, but doable. If Carbine was supposed to be a brother, then Reverend Bones was right. Family was certainly not easy.

I was as undecided as I was this morning. Orchestra was my loving sister, as well as “The Great Cunt.” The younger sister did accept her sister’s love when the ordeals had been finished, but I doubted the older sister had maimed her with a knife. I truly was going to need more than one session alone to work out my problem.

“Hello, Symphony.”

My focus returned to the world around me, specifically onto Sombra. He had multiple bags tied to his robe, and Missile was sitting on his back. The colt was intently reading a comic: Flash! Savior of the Universe: Issue 118.

Missile held up a hoof, waving in my direction. “Hey, Symph.”

I nodded, although I doubted he noticed me given how engrossed he was.

“Do you mind if I sit down?

I scooted over to make room for Sombra. He gave me a polite nod, as he sat down. Not looking up from the comic, Missile fluttered down beside him.

“How’s this issue looking so far?” Sombra asked.

“Mhmm.” Missile turned another page, and his eyes narrowed after a few moments. “So even though Flash saved her life, the zebra spy still betrayed him. Fucking bitch.” A look of pure terror appeared on his face, and he glanced at Sombra. “I mean, uh, um, that darn…” He sighed, and held out the comic. “I’m re-grounded, aren’t I?”

A sigh rumbled in Sombra’s throat, as he gently pushed the comic back towards Missile. “You’ve had a busy today. For that, I’ll give you a free pass.”

The colt’s eyes and mouth widened with pure glee. He briefly hugged the elder stallion’s hoof, before returning to his comic. That got a good humored grunt out of me.

Sombra turned his attention towards me, and motioned to his bags. “Curious to know what we bought?”

I performed the gesture for food and drink.

“Insightful as always.” Sombra’s eyes clouded for a moment. “We should be good on medical supplies after Lyra found those potions and healing bandages in that box. And our food should last us for a while now as well. Even amongst four grown ponies and a colt, we should be fine until we clear the border. However…” He cast a melancholy glance at his saddlebag. “We are starting to run low on funds. The inn was more expensive than I realized, and the others weren’t much cheaper.” He closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“We could always just do the thing again, Somby. Bro would be up for it.”

When Sombra opened his eyes, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Luckily for Missile, his comic was blocking the older stallion’s face. It took a moment, but Sombra relaxed. He raised his eyes upwards, and touched a hoof to his heart.

“Forgive me.”

That was certainly not a good sign. I had no notion as to what “the thing” was, but I had no trouble believing it was something bad. Sombra seemed to notice my concern. He touched a hoof to my shoulder, careful not to touch my neck. He gave it a firm, yet friendly, shake, and stood up. “We should head back to the inn. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I for one would enjoy a good night’s sleep.”

I followed as he and Missile, who had fluttered onto his back as soon as Sombra was standing again, began their walk towards the inn. I followed them through the streets of Hospitality, and up the inn stairs until we parted ways at our rooms. Sombra was sharing with Carbine and Missile, while I would be alone with Lyra.

I hoped she was not still upset with me for our earlier row. I needed to make up with her, to let her know what I really felt. She needed to know I did not care about Hospitality; I just wanted to be with her. Regardless of my thoughts on Orchestra and Carbine, Lyra Heartstrings XIII was my family.

I opened the door, contemplating how to get my point across.

“Hey, stud, what took you so long?”

Lyra was lying on the bed, giving me the most suggestive stare imaginable. She nonchalantly stretched so that her flanks were facing me. And she was wearing the Cadanite uniform. The tight Cadanite uniform.

Or, as a possible alternative, I could always express my emotions in a more physical way.

***

I was singing again. There were no words, only notes. Yet, there was still so much passion in my voice. I sang of my love for the Holy Mother and her teachings. For the love I had for my sister, and for my dearest Lyra. I sang of the fear I had of dying when the knife had sliced my flesh, and of travelling with Lyra. I even sang of Carbine, the brother I was only starting to know.

Most of all, I sang of faith. My song weaved a tale of trials and tribulations, and how I overcame them all. It spoke of the Holy Mother’s guidance, and the affect her words had on me. Finally, I sang of my faith in ponies. There were horrible ponies in the world to be sure, and good ponies who made dire mistakes. But there were plenty more who were willing to live their lives with grace and honor. Ponies willing to go out of their way just to see a filly smile. With one final note, I pleaded for others to follow their examples and create a better Equestria.

When I had finished, I collapsed onto my knees. Never before had I put so much passion into my voice. It was almost as if I were afraid I would never use it again. As I looked ahead of me, I could see a crowded amphitheater. It was full of ponies, new and familiar alike. They stood for me; they stomped the ground furiously with applause. Lyra and my new companions were in the front row, while my old friends filled the rows behind.

The only pony I could not find was Orchestra. She was not sitting in a seat, nor standing in the back. Even High Priest Nero was attending my concert. How could my sister shun me?

Suddenly, I felt hooves wrap around my waist. When I turned around, I saw my sister. She hugged me close, hot tears falling onto my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, brother. I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to ask her, “For what,” but found that I was unable. Blood began to drip from my neck, and onto Orchestra’s bloody knife. Once again I collapsed, but nopony applauded for me now. I watched my sister turn her back, and trot away, repeating how sorry she was.

I struggled to my hooves. Hopefully I could find somepony who would help me. Rain began to fall, pelting me back towards the ground. Yet, I continued until I was standing again.

That was when I realized the amphitheater was empty. In my time of crisis, they had all left me. Even Lyra. I collapsed again, but this time I did not get up. If my life meant so little to them perhaps it would have been best to just die. Yes, perhaps death was a better alternative to a difficult life…

***

I awoke to see Carbine standing over me. Lyra was already awake, still wearing her barding. I wanted to tell her to take it off, or gesture something to that effect, so Carbine would not be able to see. However, I found his gaze was locked on me; the grin on his face perfectly matching the one he wore during yesterday’s firefight. Once again, the Holy Mother’s providence gave me an ominous feeling.

“Wake up, Symph. It’s Sunday; you’re going to church.”

Footnote: Level Up!

Perk Added: Walk among the Tombstones-sneaking is more effective during combat.

Quest Perk Added: Hammerhoof Level 1-damage dealt by hooves or melee weapons does 3% more damage.

Author's Note

Thank you all for reading this. I hope you enjoy Crystal Hearts, and will support the story by leaving feedback in the comments. As always, I’d like to thank Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria, and other writers who continue to contribute to the universe. I’d also like to thank my editors and pre-readers for the feedback they give me.

1.3: Canticle

Chapter 1.3 Canticle

“It’s your only ho-o-ope! You have to take a leap of faith!”

Orchestra had told me once that war never changes. It had been something her instructors had drilled into her during her training in the CDF. I could not speak for war, but I could speak for church. Church… church never changes.

I had not been to church in quite a while, mostly to spend extra time with Lyra, but everything was as I remembered. First, the pews were as uncomfortable as ever. As soon as I sat down, there had been a cramping in my leg, which was still sore from my session with Sombra. Each row was also packed to the brim with ponies wanting to talk to me, whom I did not care to know. Well, I supposed that was a tad harsh. In fairness, I was usually too involved in my thoughts to want to hold a conversation.

Currently, I was sitting in a middle row, next to a mare well into her golden years.

“You know, you remind me of my son and grandfoal.” She leaned forward, her glasses slipping off, to look at the green colt on my other side. “And are you a good boy?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am.” Missile picked up her glasses with his mouth, and passed them to her.

The mare gasped. “Handsome, and well behaved?” She put her glasses back on her face, and smiled at me. “You’d better watch out. The girls are going to be all over him when he gets older.”

Missile stood up a little straighter, beaming from ear to ear. I had not thought it was possible, but he actually looked innocent for a moment there. What was it Lyra had said yesterday, “We’re practically a family”? If so, then I was Missile’s elder sibling. Hmm. What would Orchestra do in a time like this?

Smirking, I ruffled his blue mane. Had we not been in church I would given him a full noogie.

“Hey, stop it, Symph!” He swatted at my hooves, but there was no mistaking the smile on his face. One almost identical to the filly’s from yesterday.

Speaking of which, I had seen her when I walked in. She was sitting in the back row with the stallion from the day before. I could smell the alcohol from here. She had waved to me, or perhaps she had been waving to Missile, and I had waved back. The stallion had not looked happy about that, but I doubted he would do anything about it. We were in church, after all.

The sound of voices brought my focus to the stage. A choir of ponies, both crystal and non, were singing a hymn. Some in the pews stood and joined in; others closed their eyes in reverence, or clasped hooves with one another.

My in-progress little brother had other ideas.

Missile was holding open a hymn book and mouthing words so most ponies would assume he was singing along. What he was really doing was using the book to hide the comic he was reading, Issue: 119. He had already finished the one Sombra bought yesterday, and had conned Carbine into buying him another. A heathen comic in a Cadanite church; Orchestra would have had a field day with Missile.

"You may be seated."

The priest had arrived. He was a charcoal unicorn, a non-crystal one, clothed in black clerical robes. The choir had taken their seats in the pews on stage, and he nodded to them as he passed by. He stopped behind a pulpit with a microphone. Behind him were two massive stained glass windows.

The first depicted the Holy Mother's final moments before her apotheosis. A barrier surrounded the Crystal Palace, with her inside it, while balefire bombs cascaded from the skies. According to the gospel of the Burned Stallion, she had been wounded only hours before. A poisoned knife had struck her in hopes that the Crystal Palace would go unprotected. In spite of this, Cadance was able to use the last of her strength to save the Palace before ascending.

The second showed the Holy Mother as she was now, an ethereal pony clad in crystal. She descended in a chariot of light and fire to commune with her prophet. Standing in the snow below her was the Burned Stallion. His body was wrapped in bandages, and was enveloped in a pink fog. At his side levitated a shield with three starbursts engraved in it. With his head bowed, he reached out to the chariot to receive her gospel.

If the Burned Stallion’s accounts of these events were true, and I had no reason to doubt their authenticity, I was looking at a piece of history. The chariot may have been a slight exaggeration on the part of the artist, but I still wished my companions could be here to see it. Instead, Lyra was retrieving her lyre, Sombra refused to enter a church, and Carbine was preparing for an “operation.” I was unaware of what his operation was, but knowing Carbine I suspected my ignorance would be bliss.

“Good morning, everypony.”

“Good morning, Father.”

The priest extended his hooves towards the congregation. “Today’s is a wonderful morning, everypony. As is tomorrow’s, and the day after. There are ponies throughout all of Equestria who have killed to see another morning.” His voice grew weary as he added, “And there are so many more who died as a result.” He stepped away from the pulpit, and his eyes swept across the pews. “My brothers and sisters, today is a blessing; it is a gift.” He gestured to the stained glass behind him. “One from the Holy Mother herself.”

“Amen!” shouted a stallion in one of the back rows.

The priest smiled. “Yes, brother Nightshade, Amen.” He began to pace around the stage, and his voice grew more passionate with each word. “Amen, for the sacrifice she made two-hundred years ago. Amen, for the grace and mercy of our Goddess. Amen, for the love she has for each and every one of us.”

Amen, Father.

“I believe each and every one of us has a duty. We have a duty to repay the sacrifice however we can. Not with our lives, but with our hearts. By showing the grace, and the mercy, and the love of our Goddess we are honoring her memory.” The priest placed a hoof over his heart. "Let us close our eyes and bow our heads in prayer."

I placed a hoof over my heart, and bowed my head.

Holy Mother, I pray for my… family. I ask that you look after them, and guide them towards a life that will honor you. I ask you will forgive them their trespasses, and give them the strength to forgive those who would trespass against them. From Orchestra to Carbine, I pray for them.

"Holy Mother, we thank you for the sacrifice you made so many years ago. We thank you for the mornings we live to see, and for the stars who watch us as we sleep. We thank you for the protection and guidance you provide for us on a daily basis. And we pray that you will look after the less fortunate, and provide them with one more morning. In your holy name we pray, Amen.”

Amen. And if my memory served next should be the offering.

When I raised my head, I noticed crystal bowls levitating by the pews. The ponies sitting at the edge of each row placed a few bits into the bowl before passing it down. I considered it to be unscrupulous to not give any money during offering, especially in a town called Hospitality. But the money I had was not mine to give, it was my family’s. If our financial situation was as dire as Sombra said, then I would rather not give any of it away.

The old mare beside me placed the bowl in my hooves. It was quite full already; it certainly did not need any contribution from me. An image of the smiling filly appeared in my mind. I had felt so happy giving to her, and it was possible somepony might benefit from my offering. What to do…

My thoughts were interrupted when the church doors were bucked open

“Morning, motherfuckers!”

Oh, no. Dear Goddess, no. Reluctantly, I turned around with the other ponies sitting near me. I watched as a maroon stallion strutted into the church. A shotgun hovered at his right, a carbine at his left. He pumped the shotgun with a mad grin on his face.

“Do you mind if I say my own prayer, Father?”

The priest eyed Carbine’s guns with clear apprehension in his eyes. He hesitated a moment, before giving Carbine a warm smile. “Of course, my son. Say whatever is on your mind.”

Carbine put a hoof over his heart, and kneeled. As he looked up at the stained glass portrait of the Holy Mother’s last moments, the grin on his face widened. “Oh, hot pink Goddess, I ask that you look upon this poor heathen with mercy.” He rummaged in his saddlebag until he pulled out a coin purse. “And I pray that you will guide their money into this bag.” A sack, quite similar to Lyra’s, floated into the church. “And this bag too if you wouldn’t mind.”

The filly’s companion stood up. “Who do you think you are, asshole? Coming in here an—”

Without turning around, Carbine aimed Tenacity in his, who I now identified as brother Nightshade from the sound of his voice, direction. The shotgun fired, and punched a hole into the wall next to Nightshade’s head. His eyes widened, he whimpered, and sat down immediately.

“If I were you, hot pink Goddess, I’d start that guiding pretty quick.” Carbine moved Anarchy across the pews. “My guns are just itching to shoot somepony.” He pumped the shotgun once more. “And they don’t miss twice.”

The priest’s horn glowed, and the collection plates moved towards Carbine. Each one dumped their contents into either the purse or the sack until both of them were full. Carbine stored both into his saddlebags, and dipped his head.

“Thank you, Father.” He looked at the stained glass. “And to you as well, hot pink Goddess. Thank you for fucking up my home.”

He tilted Anarchy upward, and unloaded into both of the stained glass windows. Each bullet shattered a portion of the artwork until it was an unrecognizable mess. The Burned Stallion was completely gone, and both depictions of Cadance were missing their heads. Her chariot was in ruins, as was the Crystal Palace. The only aspects Carbine left untouched were the balefire bombs.

He gave a satisfied snicker, as he reloaded Anarchy. “One last thing before I go.” He moved the muzzle of his gun downward, and fired two more rounds. Both of them struck the priest in the right shoulder. He screamed as he fell onto his back, clutching his shoulder.

“Father!” an older stallion croaked.

“Somepony help him!” shouted a mare behind me.

“You son of a bitch!” That was Nightshade. He seemed to have forgotten his fear, and lunged at Carbine. He also seemed to have also forgotten about Tenacity. I watched in horror as the shotgun swiveled and fired. The filly screamed, the old mare next to me fainted. My reaction to seeing his head explode into chunks of meat and flesh?

I retched.

Everything around me became a blur. There were ponies running around me, but I could not tell who they were or which way they were going. I heard Carbine pump Tenacity again, heard him shout something. I had no idea what he was saying, but I doubted he was wishing everypony a good day. Actually, given Carbine’s nature, there was a good chance he was.

I felt a hoof wrap around my shoulder, and my hooves started moving. Given the strength of the individual it was likely Sombra. I had not seen him in the church, so he was probably waiting outside. Had he been too ashamed to enter the House of the Goddess? I hoped so. There was no doubt in my mind about what “the thing” was now. Sombra had given Carbine the authorization to rob a church, and a stallion had died. As far as I was concerned both of them were guilty of sacrilege. And both of them were guilty of murder.

I shoved the hoof away from me, and the world around me regained its form.

I was outside the church, standing in a puddle of slush. Lyra stood near me, but she noticeably avoided looking me in the eye. She pretended to be scrutinizing her lyre, but I knew better. She had known. She knew what Sombra had planned, and she did nothing to stop it.

She was guilty too.

A hoof tapped me on the shoulder, and spun me around. It brought me face to face with a smiling Carbine. “So, how’d you like the sermon, Symphy? Was it all religiousy and shit?” He grinned, and tapped the shotgun protruding him saddlebags. “And what did you think of me and my prayer? I mean, I told him I wouldn’t miss again. But no. Somepony had to be a hero. Can you believe that idiot? And I thought I was a stupid motherfucker.”

I hit him; I hit him hard.

Carbine staggered backwards. Blood flowed from his nose like a waterfall, staining the ground scarlet. He covered his nostrils with a hoof, and looked at me with befuddlement. “What did I do?”

What did he do? Where to begin?! He desecrated a church, stole from innocent ponies, shot a priest! He killed a pony, and he had the gall to ask what he did wrong. Carbine was no brother of mine. I reared back to hit him again, but was quickly subdued in a chokehold.

“Calm down, Symphony,” Sombra hissed in my ear.

How? How was I supposed to calm down when I was surrounded by killers? When the one who pulled the trigger showed less remorse than one of Nero’s soldiers? How could I be calm when I had a foreleg wrapped around my throat? Around my scar!

I sank my teeth into Sombra’s hoof, and struggled in his grip. My bite was not nearly strong enough to tear at his flesh. Nor was it enough to stun him. The only reaction I received from Sombra was a grunt, and an increase in pressure.

“Oh, I get it. We’re playing tag.” Carbine’s nose was still bleeding, but he no longer tried to stop it with his hoof. Rather, he allowed the blood to streak down into his mouth. He ran his tongue across his lips as he approached me. “And it looks like I’m it.” Anarchy dropped into his hooves. He spun the gun around, so that the butt was pointed towards my face. He licked his lips again, the maniacal grin etched on his face. “No tag backs.”

He rammed the gun into my face, and everything became black.

***

I was back on the stage. Blood continued to drip from my throat into the pool beneath me. Part of me wanted to stand, but the majority of me wanted to lie down for a while longer. It would not be long now. Just a few more moments and I would finally be at peace.

“Is the way your life ends? Not even with a whisper? I thought you had more pride than that, Symphony.”

I could hear the clopping of hooves from the far side of the stage. It was a soft sound. It was like a whisper, so faint I was not sure if it were real or imaginary. Slowly the sound crescendoed until it echoed like a crash of thunder.

I turned my head to see who was walking towards me.

A crystal stallion stood before me. His azure coat sparkled, as if he had touched the Crystal Heart itself. My eyes swept over him, and were drawn to his cutie mark. A songbird flying on a sheet of music.

“My eyes are up here.”

I slowly, and painfully, raised my head to look into his eyes.

They gazed upon me with a mix of emotions. Part of his gaze conveyed pity. The other part contempt. He sat down on his belly, and met me on eye level. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Obviously nothing. I thought my bleeding throat made that apparent enough.

The crystal stallion snorted. Now his eyes showed only contempt. “That’s what I thought. It’s a convenient excuse, isn’t? You can no longer speak, so you’re unable to stand up for anything. All you can do is acquiesce to the situation at hoof.”

Why was I having this dream? I had always thought dreams were an escape from reality, or a form of spiritual guidance. I had been knocked out by a gun, and had struggled while it happened. I stood up for myself just fine. I just lacked the physical prowess to back it up.

A dissatisfied grunt sounded from his throat. “I’m not talking about that, Symphony. I’m talking about you in general. The majority of your responses can be summed up in a snort. That’s not communication; it’s being passive-aggressive.”

I had not been passive-aggressive when I had punched Carbine in the face.

He chuckled. “That’s certainly a step in the right direction.” The crystal stallion stood up, and trotted to the edge of the stage. He looked out at the empty amphitheater, and sighed. “What happened in that church was horrible. You know it, and I’d imagine Sombra does too. Tell me, do you hate him for it?”

I was no longer sure. My emotions had gotten the better of me, and I had labeled him a murderer. I no longer believed that was the case. He had given the order to rob the church, but he had not pulled the trigger. He was not even present. He was guilty of something, but not what I had accused him of.

I shook my head.

“What about Lyra? She probably knew about the plan, but did nothing to stop it. She didn’t even tell you. Not to mention all the flirting she does with Carbine. Does that make you angry?”

I did not even have to think about that; I nodded.

“Why does it bother you?”

Because it was a violation of my trust in her. If Lyra knew what was going to happen in that church she should have told me. That way I would not have seen Nightshade die. As for her flirting with Carbine, I simply found it annoying. Unsure of how to communicate this to the crystal stallion, I shrugged.

The crystal stallion snorted, and pointed to the opposite side of the stage. “Take a look.”

I did, and I saw Lyra.

She was yelling something, but I was unable to hear what it was. She was pounding on an invisible wall, but it would not yield. She pounded harder, and seemed to be screaming louder. But the wall did not break, and I could not hear her.

“You see, Symphony? This is what happens when you fail to communicate your feelings. You erect barriers between you and those you love. You can’t see them, but they’re there.” He trotted towards the invisible wall, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “It’s admirable how hard she’s fighting for you. Despite all the walls you’ve put up, she’s still trying to break them down.” He sighed again. “I wonder how soon it’ll be before she gives up. It might be sooner than you think.”

As if on cue, Lyra ceased her pounding and screaming. She sat in front of the invisible wall with tears in her eyes. No. I refused to watch my special somepony cry in front of me. I reached out to her, hoping she would see that I wanted her by my side.

If she saw me, she ignored me. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lyra stood up began walking away. She turned back to look at me once more. I tried shouting her name, but nothing came out. With sad resignation, she shook her head and continued walking until she disappeared.

The crystal stallion knocked on the invisible wall. “The wall works both ways, you know. Eventually you won’t be able to reach them either.” He trotted to the opposite side of the stage. As he passed by, I saw the pity return to his eyes. “Only you can let down your walls, Symphony. And I suggest you get on it sooner rather than later.”

He dipped his head and trotted out of sight, leaving me to lie in a pool of blood.

***

“And then I told him, ‘Sir, with all due respect, you can go right on ahead and fuck yourself.’”

Laughter followed Carbine’s story, carried by a cold wind. Really, Symphony? Carried by a cold wind? There was no need to be such a drama queen. Though, to be fair to myself, it was chilly. I could smell smoke, but since my companions were not panicking I assumed there was no danger. The most likely explanation was they had built a fire here. Wherever here was.

I slowly stood up, to get a view of my surroundings.

I was standing behind a countertop. Behind me was a glass cabinet displaying cartons of cigarettes. The cabinet had been smashed open, and most of the packs had been taken. I expected to find shards of glass below me, but aside from the bloodstains the tile floor was spotless. The only clutter I could find were my saddlebags, and Savage. My comrades must have cleaned it up before setting down.

I peered into an intact portion of the glass to look at my reflection. Or at least, I tried to. The pony I saw in the glass looked nothing like the crystal stallion in my dream. The first thing I noticed was the scar running across his neck. I instinctively felt my own, and moved my eyes elsewhere.

The reflection’s coat was a dull, lifeless, shade of blue. His black mane was poorly groomed, and his tail frazzled. His face was nearly expressionless, save for his eyes. There was a cold edge in his gaze, and I found myself taking a step back. What was the old phrase, being afraid of one’s own shadow? I wondered if being afraid of my own reflection counted.

I offered the reflection a smile. The smile I received in turn looked like it belonged on the Black King. No wonder Missile shuddered when I had smiled at him yesterday. I looked like a nightmare. Walls, huh. Looks like I just found one.

With a shake of my head, I put my bags back on. I did not bother stowing Savage. I had no use for a sniper rifle. One of the others could take it if they wanted.

On the countertop was a cash register. It was busted open, emptied of any valuables, and left to rust. Actually, most of the store did not seem to have aged well now that I looked around. The light switch had been flipped, but none of the lights were on. Given how most of the bulbs were cracked it was not much of a surprise. The only light source I had was the setting sun, and the fire crackling in the distance. And by distance, I meant about two meter away.

As I walked away from the counter I noticed the rest of the floor had not been cleaned. There were blood stains and streaks on various tiles. I found a few patches of mold, some radroach corpses and… feces. Of course there were would be feces. It really tied the room together.

I shuddered, and looked the other way to find a stand full of greeting cards. A grey pegasus mare winked at me from one of the cards. A comet zoomed above her, matching her cutie mark. “I Think You’re a Star!” was written on the bottom. Another one I noticed was of a blue unicorn showing her teeth in a smile. Above her were the words, “You Shine Brighter than My Teeth. And I’m a Dentist!” As stupid as it was, it did get a smile out of me. Not that it mattered to the mare on the card, but I hoped it was not as creepy as the last.

Most of the greeting cards were like those. There was a picture of a mare or stallion with an inspirational phrase written somewhere. Most of them doubled as puns based on cutie marks or professions. But there was one card that did not quite fit the mold. The cover portrayed two unicorns, a mare and a stallion. From her lavender pelt, and his cutie mark of a shield I recognized them immediately: a Fallen Angel and the Burned Stallion. The Burned Stallion was hugging the Fallen Angel and the quote read, “To the Best Sister in the World.”

I took the card, and opened it.

On the inside was a picture of the two when they were foals, chasing each other through a park. To my surprise there were no words. I had expected there to be a quote from the brother to the sister, or at least a poem. Instead there was only blank space. Perhaps once I had come to terms with how I felt about my sister, I would find the right words to write.

I slipped the card into my bag, and trotted towards the fire.

“Carbine, be honest. What do you think of Symphony?” I heard Lyra ask.

I instantly stopped, and crouched to avoid being seen.

“What do I think of Symph? Hmm.” Carbine tapped his hoof against the side of his head for a second or two before his face lit up. “I got it!” He punctuated this declaration by slamming one of his hooves down onto the other. “I think Symphony is a guy.”

That was vague. Here I was, hoping his appraisal of me would be brimming with insight. Instead he only confirmed my gender. Carbine was truly a pony of acumen.

“Believe me, Carbine, I know he’s a guy,” Lyra replied dryly.

Sombra turned his head and coughed, and I felt myself flush. Carbine chuckled, and shook his head.

“You don’t get it, Thirteen. Symph isn’t a guy because he has a dick. It’s because he’s so damn moody all the time. He got his throat fucked up, his cutie mark is worthless, and now he’s travelling around with three strangers. Sure, he’s got his marefriend with him, but you’re probably the only reason he isn’t pissed off at everything. I guess, while he’s not my favorite pony, I can say that I understand why he acts the way he does. He might not ever consider me his friend, but that’s his business. I’m pretty sure he’s got my back, and that’s plenty for me.”

I decided to take back my sarcasm. Behind his maniacal grins and love of vulgarity, Carbine was not a dumb pony. At least, not entirely. Either way, I knew I could trust him in a tense situation. It did not make us brothers, but it was something. I could settle for calling it a work in progress.

The sight of a stallion’s head exploding burst into my mind, causing me to wince. I was acting rashly again. Given what I had seen at the church it would be a while before Carbine gained my full trust. Even calling our relationship a work in progress felt too lenient. But the sight of Lyra pounding against an invisible wall caused me to reconsider. Damn. This was no different from my conflict with Orchestra. I was being torn in two different directions. Was there no way they could be reconciled?

I gazed back at the greeting cards, an idea forming.

***

My companions were huddled around a fire in a triangle formation. Lyra and Sombra sat across from each other, forming the base, while Carbine was positioned at the tip. It was a basic CDF tactic. The ponies at the base could watch each other’s backs and their peripherals would catch an enemy sneaking up on the tip. The tip pony’s job was to watch out for attackers directly in front of them. A four pony formation would be more secure, but Missile was currently occupied with sleeping in Carbine’s lap.

As quietly as I could muster, I crept up behind the maroon unicorn. His back was facing me, and it did not appear as if Lyra or Sombra had been alerted to my presence yet. Sombra’s lessons could prove useful to me one day, but mastering stealth could be an even greater advantage for me. I already lost my ability to speak; it was worth trying to turn the loss into a gain. Besides, scaring Carbine would be funny.

I lashed out with my foreleg, and tapped Carbine twice on the neck.

My taps were gentle, but were enough to prove my point. The distance had not been long, and the stakes had not been high, but I had been able to sneak upon an unsuspecting pony. Had I wanted to cause any real damage Carbine would be knocked out, or worse. I could call it a win.

“What the actual fuck?” He whipped his head around, and his guns levitated beside him. Once he recognized me, the guns dropped back on the floor. “Oh, Symph. I thought you were still sleeping.” He chuckled awkwardly, and rubbed the back of his mane. “Er, sorry about knocking you out. No hard feelings?”

Good question. I answered him by reaching into my bag, and dropped a greeting card at his hooves.

“What’s this?” He scooped it up with his hooves, and held it towards the fire. The crackling flame illuminated the words “I Think You’re a Star!” along with the picture of the grey mare. His stared at the picture, flicked his gaze towards me, then looked back at the picture. “Are you giving me porn or something?”

Withholding a snort, I pointed to the letters on the page.

He chuckled awkwardly again. “Um, yeah, about that. I can’t read, Symph.” He held up the card, and grinned. “I like the picture though. This is a good looking mare.”

“Hang on a second, I’ve gotta see this.” Lyra snatched the card from Carbine, and gave it a quick glance. “It says, ‘I Think You’re a Star!’” She looked at me with curious eyes, and a grin. “Are you hitting on him?”

I slapped my hoof to my face. I trotted over to Lyra, and opened the card. I may have been unsure of what to say to Orchestra, but I knew what I wanted to say to Carbine.

Lyra was kind enough to read the words aloud. “Dear Carbine, I am unsure of what to think of you. You are the epitome of every stereotype applied to infidels. You are vulgar, violent, and have scared me in some moments. That being said, I am happy to be your ally rather than your enemy. I know I can count on you to be honest with me, and to protect me in hard times.

“Yesterday you called me your ‘crystal brother,’ and said you want to know me better. While we have not travelled together long enough for me to think of you as a brother, perhaps one day we can forge that type of relationship. But it will be a while before I am ready to call you my brother. What happened in the church today is a travesty I know I will never forget. I know I am not ready to forgive you now, and I may never be. But I know you have my back, and that’s enough for me.”

A vile taste entered my mouth after hearing the last sentence. I always hated contractions. Each word possessed a beauty all its own, every syllable a melody unto itself. Contractions were a slap in the face of said beauty. I had used one only to quote his earlier sentiment, as it would be an effective way of letting him know I was willing to make a connection with him. That we were, as he would probably say, cool. Another wall down.

“So,” Sombra asked, “you are hitting on him?”

There was a pause. Nopony said anything for a good ten seconds or so. I was too stunned to hear Sombra crack a joke, even if his delivery was as deadpan as usual, to say anything. From the looks on her face I assumed Lyra felt the same. But then Carbine’s laughter broke the silence. Lyra joined in, and Sombra followed with a modest chuckle.

Even I found myself laughing internally. On the outside I merely cracked a smile. Given the lack of grimaces and shudders, I assumed I had pulled off a decent enough one.

“I can shake to that.” Carbine spat on his hoof and offered it to me.

I stared at it for a moment. Did he honestly expect me to touch his saliva? Essence of Carbine. Again, I found the word ew coming to mind. I gave him a pat on the shoulder, shook my head, and sat down next to Lyra.

“Eh,” Carbine said with a shrug. “Close enough.” He brought his hoof up to his lips, and licked off the spit.

I felt my stomach churn at the sight. To avoid further discomfort, I picked out another card from my bag.

The cover depicted two earth pony stallions, one red and the other green. Both stallions wore a soldier’s uniform, complete with a helmet. The red stallion appeared relaxed. He was smiling, his eyes held no traces of anxiety, and he was holding a piece of straw in his mouth. I assumed he had been chewing it before, and after the photo had been taken. His green companion was noticeably less calm. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was twisted into a scowl. If looks could kill then the green stallion could have single-hoofedly won the war. The caption above the duo read: Soldier On.

I placed the card on the floor, and slid it towards Sombra. The older stallion picked up the card, and began to read silently.

Dear Sombra,

I want to thank you for allowing Lyra and me to join your party. While I have not always agreed with your decisions, particularly our rather dramatic exit in Hospitality, I understand you have done what you believe is best for our group. I do appreciate that.

I am also grateful for our training session yesterday. I need to become strong enough to protect the ponies I love, and I am certain your guidance will aid me in my endeavor. I only hope my mind remembers your lessons as well as my sore leg.

I want you to know that I trust you, Sombra. But I admit to not being comfortable with this trust. I do not know you personally. You mentioned having scars, but I am unaware of what these scars are. I know you are a Cadanite, but do not know why you are willing to forsake your home. And I admit to being utterly clueless as to why you would adopt the name of the Black King.

I am not asking you to tell me your life story; nor am I expecting you to feel compelled to tell me all I wish to know. I only want you to know how I feel, as I believe it is the only way we can truly become the family Lyra sees us as.

Sincerely,

Symphony

He nodded a few times as he read. At one point I thought I saw a smile flash across his face, but it disappeared too quickly for me to be sure. When he had finished he set the card on the floor, and looked at me. “You want to know my scars, Symphony?”

Without any hesitation I nodded.

He was silent for a moment. His eyes darted from me, to Missile, to the card, and then back to me. Finally, he stood up. Without a word he tugged of his robe, and exposed his body. Having only seen his face and hooves I had thought Sombra’s coat to be grey. Seeing his body in its entirety I found myself mistaken.

His hide was almost completely black from char. Scorch marks as black as the night sky covered his chest, and the upper parts of his legs. There was a stab wound on his flank, and another near his lungs. I counted three bullet holes in his side, though there may have been others hidden in the burn marks.

What caught my attention the most was the crack in his skin near his heart. A slash wound had been scabbed over, and was excreting pus. There was no telling, at least with my experience, if the wound had been deep or not, but I knew one thing. The wound was a scab, not a scar. Whatever had happened to him had been recent.

I wanted to ask him how he had gotten his scars, what the story behind each one was. I wanted to know which one pushed him over the edge to want to make him leave. I wanted to know why he had looked at Missile before removing his robe. Instead, I stared at him with a gaping mouth. Even if I had the ability to speak I was unable to find the words.

Sombra grimaced, and ran a hoof down the scab. His hoof wiped away the oozing pus, which was promptly wiped on the tile floor. Why not? It was already a dumping ground for other fluids and excrement. All it needed was a dose of semen, and it would be a full house. Or perhaps a royal flush. I needed to get my card terminology in order before I could make jokes.

“Satisfied, Symphony?” There was a surprising lack of sarcasm in Sombra’s tone. He was almost inviting me to ask more. Since he asked…

I pointed to the fire, then to his hide.

“Symphony!” Lyra roughly tapped my shoulder. “That’s rude.”

He offered! True, I was the one who brought it up in my letter. But how was I supposed to know he was going to actually show me his scars? It would almost be ruder to ignore his offer.

“I had a rough childhood. Anything else?”

I wanted to inquire about the scab, but a harsh look from Lyra silenced me. Well, stopped me from asking anyway.

Carbine’s hoof shot into the air, and he started bouncing up and down. “Ooh, ooh! I got a question. Those holes in you; that was me right? Right, Somby? Wasn’t that when I shot you?”

Sombra sighed, more in humor than annoyance. “Yes, Carbine. Some of these are from when you shot me.”

“You shot him?” Lyra asked, her voice cracking slightly.

Carbine shrugged. “Well, yeah. I had to survive somehow. He had some supplies, so I shot him to take them. He didn’t go down, kicked my ass, and next thing I know I’m following him around the Crystal Wasteland. Don’t know why you’re so surprised by it. Happens all the time.” He paused before adding, “The shooting, I mean. Most ponies don’t allow shooters to follow them.”

That explained a lot. No wonder Carbine had blown the stallion’s face off. Killing was a natural occurrence in his world. It did not excuse what he did, and I could still not forgive him. But I felt I understood him a little better now. Though it did raise another question.

I pulled another greeting card from my bag, the one with the dentist, and wrote down my question. I passed it to Lyra, and pointed to Carbine.

“That reminds me,” she read, ”Back at the church you said ‘thank you for fucking up my home’ to the portrait of the Holy Mother. What did you mean by that?”

For the first time since I met Carbine I saw him legitimately frown. The wild fire in his eyes died down, leaving a dim ember. “Ah, ya know. It’s the whole religion bullshit.” He must have noticed my glare because he quickly added, “Not that religion is bullshit. If you want to believe in a hot pink Goddess and spread love and tolerance around the world then be my guest! I just… hmmm.”

He started into the fire, as he rubbed the back of his mane. “I just wish I could be included, ya know? It sucks to be surrounded by ponies who have this great calling, or whatever, but they take one look at me and my non-shiny ass and call me a heathen. That, or they try to kill me for not being ‘worthy.’ It’s not my home that got fucked up; I just got the short end of the stick.”

He shook his head, and started grinning. “Not that I’m depressed or anything.” He reached beside him, and lifted Anarchy. “The whole heathen thing brought me and Anne together. How can I be depressed about that?” He embraced his gun, and nuzzled her affectionately. Wait, her? Now even I was giving his weapon a gender? Carbine was contagious.

“And what about you, Miss Heartstrings? What are your thoughts on the Cadanite religion?” Sombra asked.

She looked at Sombra and me with a look of pity before saying, “I think Carbine hit the nail on the head. It’s bullshit.”

What?! I sprang onto my hooves, and glowered at Lyra. I knew she had no love lost on the Holy Mother, but calling the Cadanite religion, my religion, bullshit? I… how could she…

Lyra rolled her eyes, and gently tugged on my hooves. I resisted for a moment, but ultimately sat back down. She pecked me on the cheek, and rubbed my shoulder. It felt good, really good, but I was still mad at her. I tried to show my disdain by snarling at her, but since I was enjoying the rub it turned out like an inebriated smile. Well that backfired.

Sombra’s reaction was more subdued. There was definitely some contempt in his eyes, or at least a high level of irritation, but he made no counter-arguments or attempted snarls. He simply gestured to her with his hoof. “Please elaborate.”

Lyra patted my shoulder before sliding her hoof away. She held both of her front hooves in front of her. “Two reasons. First, it’s hypocritical. I’ve been to a service before, and have eavesdropped on a few sermons during my time in Haven. And what was the constant theme? Love. The entire religion is based around the concept of loving others. Am I wrong?”

Sombra and I both shook our heads.

“And that’s the problem,” she said with a sigh. “It’s hard to accept a religion of love when most of the followers are judgmental assholes.” She looked at me with a sad smile. “Admit it, Symphony. You probably thought I was a heathen harlot the first time you saw me dancing.”

In my defense, it was not the first thought I had. My first was more centered on how beautiful her music was. My second was on how beautiful she was. But my third…

I averted my eyes, and rubbed the back of my neck.

I felt her lips again on my cheek. “I don’t hold that against you. That’s just how you see the world. How most Cadanites see the world. And don’t even get me started on the psychos who burn ponies alive.”

I watched as Sombra once again looked at Missile. The contempt, or high level of irritation, gradually diminished. When he looked back at Lyra he nodded in resignation. “And your second point?”

Lyra smirked in reply. “It doesn’t make any sense. The whole ‘died protecting the Palace’ bit is nice, don’t get me wrong. But how in the hoof did she become a Goddess in the first place? There’s no explanation. She couldn’t have been a Goddess before, because she was killed by poison. At least Luna—excuse me, Shadow Goddess,” she snorted disdainfully after using the term, “died from a special zebra weapon. Cadance’s death wasn’t special at all.”

Sombra raised a hoof. “May I interrupt?” At Lyra’s nod he asked, “For the sake of clarity, are you saying Cadance was not an alicorn?”

Lyra shook her head. “No. I know she was a Princess, just not a Goddess. And for her to become a Goddess after death somepony else would have to do some magic on her. If that’s the case, then this other pony would be above Cadance, right?”

Again, Sombra and I nodded.

Carbine stopped snuggling with Anarchy for a moment, and raised a hoof. “Hey, I don’t know a whole lot about Cadance, but isn’t she supposed to be the one and only Goddess. Or some shit?”

Lyra grinned, and clopped her hooves together. “Finally, somepony who gets it!” The look of pity returned to her face as she regarded Sombra. “You see? Her death proves she wasn’t a Goddess before she died, and the idea of her ‘ascending’ implies another Goddess. Thus, she isn’t the one and only.” She rubbed my shoulder again, though the gesture felt more out of pity than affection. “Sorry, boys, but there is no Holy Mother. At least, not the one you believe in.”

Not the one I believe in? That reminded me of something. I reached into my saddlebags, and pulled out the case. I opened it, and looked at the figurine within. Lyra brought up some interesting points. I had never considered the possibility of a second Goddess, mostly because it conflicted with the scriptures, but it was logical. I supposed it was possible there was no Holy Mother, but I refused to believe it.

Yes, there were Cadanites who rejected and twisted her teachings. A fact I was all too familiar with. True, the veracity of the scriptures could be challenged. But maybe that was the point. Perhaps the gospel was meant to be vague, or offer little explanation. Despite what Lyra thought, logic and truth were irrelevant. In regards to the Holy Mother, only one thing mattered.

I handed her the case, and pointed to the inscription. Have Faith.

She shook her head. She levitated the figurine out of its case, and towards Sombra. The figurine dropped into his hooves. He examined it closely, before giving it back to me.

“I think you make a good argument, Lyra, but Symphony has an interesting counter.”

She chuckled dryly, the smirk not leaving her face. “You think faith is in interesting counter to logic?”

“I do.”

There was a pause. Lyra seemed to think Sombra had more to say, but he said no more. He just stared into the crackling fire. The pause continued for a few moments until Missile broke the silence. The green colt stirred in his sleep, and slowly opened his eyes.

“Hey, everypony, whatcha—” He yawned, and smacked his lips. “Whatcha talking about?”

Carbine smiled, and ruffled Missile’s mane. “We’ve been shooting the shit about the hot pink Goddess. Anything you’d like to add?”

Missile said nothing. He stared at the fire, and, despite its warmth, began to shiver. Carbine tried to talk to him, but to no avail. It was as if none of us were even there. The longer Missile stared the more intensely he shivered. I saw Sombra began to stand, but he was not needed. Carbine discovered a foolproof way to grab Missile’s attention. He bumped him on the head.

“Ow.” Missile blinked, and tore his gaze away from the flame towards Carbine. “What gives?”

Carbine rolled his eyes. “You zoned out and started shivering. So, I hit you. Anyways, hot pink Goddess. Thoughts?”

Missile yawned again, as he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t like her.” He fluttered off of Carbine’s lap and onto the maroon stallion’s head. “If she does exist then she’s a raging cu—” He instantly shut up when he saw the pointed look I shared with Sombra. He coughed into his sleeve, and chuckled. “Er, can I have a redo?”

“Of course, Missile. Go ahead, and say whatever’s on your mind. And don’t worry about Sombra. I won’t let him ground you,” Lyra said with a wink.

Missile sighed in relief, and wiped his brow. “Thanks, Thirteen.” He pointed a hoof at me, likely so he could avoid looking at Sombra. “I really really, really hate your priests. Like, hate the way Flash hates zebras. And if Cadance is cool with what they do, then fuck her. If not, then just fuck them. Either way, priests suck.” He smiled sheepishly at Sombra. “Aco-whatevers are cool though.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Am I grounded again?”

A sigh rumbled in Sombra’s throat. “I can’t be angry at you for sharing your feelings, Missile. Though perhaps next ti—”

Silence. All I could hear was silence as I watched the window behind Sombra shatter. A metal arrow flew through the broken window, and pierced his right side. His mouth opened, in what I could only guess was a roar of some sort, and he ripped the arrow out. Blood gushed from the new hole in his body. Eyes blazing, he clutched his wound and rolled to his right. Not a second later a second arrow zipped past where his head had been. He waved one of his hooves at us, screaming something.

My companions seemed to hear what he was saying. Missile had drawn his hood, and was shaking. He had gotten back on the ground, and was hiding behind Carbine. The ever present maniacal grin was surprisingly absent from Carbine’s face. Instead, I saw a callous smirk. The looks were similar, but something about this look felt more malicious than his usual expression. His guns levitated beside him; Tenacity cocked once, and a new magazine was loaded into Anarchy. Keeping Missile behind him, Carbine moved towards the counter I had woken up behind.

I felt my body moving in the same direction.

Lyra had a hoof wrapped around my neck, and was dragging me. Faith was levitated out of her holster, but her other revolver was nowhere in sight. She was saying something to me, shouting given her facial expressions, but there was still no sound. Still, I had an idea of what she was saying. Something along the lines of move.

I got to my hooves to follow her, and all at once sound came back. There were shouts from Lyra and Sombra, as well as a bushel of profanities from Carbine. Missile was keeping quiet, and I noticed he was still shaking. Though there was one sound quite unlike the others. It was a squelching sound. As soon as I heard it I felt three simultaneous sensations in my leg. First, it felt slightly wet. Second, it felt warm. And third, it felt searing pain.

Speaking of arrows.

I collapsed onto my chest as the metal arrow pierced my barding and flesh. I instinctively opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I wanted to scream; fuck, I wanted to swear. All I could do was add to the silence I had been hearing until my injury.

Lyra wrapped her mouth around the arrow, while Faith fired off two rounds. “Sahry, luhv,” she said around the metal. Why was she holding th—Oh no. With a mighty tug, Lyra yanked the arrow out of my leg.

What I would have given for some good old fashioned numbness.

Pain overwhelmed me, as blood squirted out of the hole in my barding. NO! I had already lost my throat, I was not about to lose my leg too. Biting my lip to distract from the pain, which admittedly did not work as well as I would have hoped, I pressed my front hooves on the wound to stop the bleeding. The blood splashed against my hooves, tickling them.

I squirmed, as Lyra shoved a healing potion down my throat. I gulped down the liquid as quickly as I could. Despite the dire situation I found myself appraising the taste. It was a bit sweet for my liking, but had a nice tang of grape. I spat the bottle onto the floor, it surprisingly did not shatter, and Lyra quickly provided me with a second. After the second bottle, the splashing stopped. I moved my hooves to inspect the wound, and found that the wound was closed. My leg still hurt, but it was usable. Without meaning to, I felt my hoof brush against my throat. If only I had potions with me then…

The glint in the distance distracted me from my thoughts, and gave me a headache. It was so bright… and fuzzy. I squinted my eyes, and covered my face with my hooves. I could still see the glint, and it was moving closer. Another arrow, because of course I wanted seconds.

I fully closed my eyes, and braced for impact. However, none came. I also did not hear any screaming, so Lyra had not taken the hit for me. At least, I hoped not. I opened my eyes and moved my hooves to see Sombra standing in front of me with an arrow in his mouth. While I should have been thankful, and I was, most of my brain power was spent wondering how his teeth were faring after catching a metal arrow?

He spat the arrow onto the floor, and I noticed there were two others in the area. “Get behind cover! Then one of you use the sniper rifle, and cover me. I’m going after the archer.” He crouched, and began to creep his way towards the backdoor. The door was roughly a meter or so from the fire. There was only one window near the door, but Sombra dropped to his belly and crawled beneath it to avoid being seen.

If only I could be so lucky. Two more arrows sped towards Lyra and I. She was able to avoid the first, and destroyed the second with three bullets from Faith. One bullet left in the chamber. I silently prayed to the Holy Mother she would get a chance to reload before needing her gun. She seemed to have heard my prayer, as Lyra and I were able to reach the counter without being struck.

Carbine and Missile were sitting in the spot where I had woken up. Missile had stopped shaking, but he still cowered behind his hood. Carbine had a hoof wrapped around the colt’s shoulders, and repeatedly patted him on the back. He whispered something, and received a half-sniffle, half-laugh in return. Carbine peeked his head over the counter, and I noticed both of his guns were lying on the countertop, facing the door.

When he pulled his head back behind cover, he regarded Lyra and I with a nod. “Hey.”

I raised a hoof in greeting.

“You fuckers alright?”

I narrowed my eyes at his choice of words, but nodded.

“Could be better,” Lyra mumbled as she loaded five bullets into Faith. “I almost got hit with one of those arrows, and one got Symphony in the leg.” She glanced at me, giving my neck a nuzzle. “We’re gonna get through this, baby; I promise.”

I for one hoped so.

“Hey, I thought you had two of those?” Missile had peeled back his hood. He was chewing on the end of his hoof, and his eyes were wider than usual, but he did seem a tad calmer than he did a second ago.

“Yeah, about that. I sold the other one while we were in Hospitality.” She spun Faith’s chamber, and moaned softly at the click. “We were low on funds, and I figured I only needed one gun.”

Speaking of guns.

I reached towards Savage, but the sharp pain in my leg brought me to a halt. No, not just my leg. My head felt like it was splitting open, and my vision was getting fuzzy again. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu. Perhaps this was what it had been like when I had gotten drunk with Orchestra. Minus the searing pain in my leg, of course. Possibly. Given how I remembered virtually nothing that night was fair game as far as experiences. Still, drunk in pain as I may have been, Sombra needed cover.

I felt a warm hoof touch mine, and a metal lump fell into my lap.

“Tell you what. I’ll handle the sniper, and you use Faith. Sound like a plan?”

Yes. Given how the world around me had morphed from a convenience store into a haze of shapes and shadows, she had a much better chance of actually being useful with the sniper rifle.

A figure, which I assumed was Lyra, picked up a large object and balanced it against what I assumed was the countertop. She leaned forward, likely peering through the scope, and methodically adjusted her position. “Okay… if I were an archer where would I be hid—Ah-ha! There you are.” I could make out a faint glow coming from her horn. “Gotcha.”

I was not too familiar with Savage, but there were a few things I knew about the weapon. I knew it was bulky, had a good scope, and possessed a name I did not care for. I could now add another piece of knowledge to that list. Savage was by no means subtle. The shot was like a church bell, loud and reverberating.

I clutched my front hooves to my temple in a failed attempt to stifle the ringing.

“Damn. I missed his head.” To her credit, Lyra seemed unfazed by the sound. She continued to sit by Savage, and gently tilted the gun to the right. “Now hold still…” There was a second shot, just an unreasonably loud as the first. “Boom! Headshot!”

My vision was starting to clear up, just in time for me to picture a pony having their face blasted into paste. I groaned internally. The last thing I needed was to start seeing bodies. I had seen enough mutilated bodies at Ghoul’s Point to last me a lifetime. A lifetime which would hopefully last longer than the new few minutes.

“Alright, Thirteen. That’s one way to kick some ass,” Carbine chuckled. “How many does that leave for the King?”

“One and a half.”

“One and a half?” Missile croaked. “You can’t have half a pony.”

According to what I had seen at Ghoul’s Point you could.

The maniacal grin returned to Carbine’s face, as he rubbed his chin. “Sure you can, Bro. There’s all sorts of ways to pull it off. Shoot off their legs, shove a grenade down their throat, find an operating chain sa—” He stopped as he noticed Lyra and I were staring at him. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never made half a pony before.”

To be perfectly honest, no. I had not.

“Anyway, I say one and a half because the other pony isn’t fighting. He’s just hiding behind some rocks. That other one looks tough though. Big, probably strong, and has a morningstar in his mouth.” She slowly licked her lips and smacked them twice before adding, “Well-built, very well muscled…”

I cleared my throat; it sounded more like a knife being slowly dragged down a chalkboard, but it got my point across.

Lyra’s cheeks turned pink, and she chuckled. “But yeah, one and a half.” Under her breath I heard her murmur, “And if Sombra could just move his head I could better look at Morningstar’s sweet sweet…”

I stopped paying attention at that point. What Lyra said had bugged me, and not the part about her checking out another stallion. Well, not solely the part about her checking out another stallion. Orchestra had said a party consisted of four ponies. The archer was killed, one pony was fighting Sombra, and the other was hiding. Assuming both Orchestra and Lyra were correct we were missing a pony.

The sound of hooves outside confirmed my suspicions.

If we had a plan, it was a stupid one. Carbine’s guns were on the countertop, which would give away our position once the fourth pony entered. If our plan was an immediate assault with everything we had then we had to kill our enemy quickly. But the fourth pony was either the priest or tracker, which to my knowledge were commonly unicorns. If this pony entered with a shield, then Savage was our best chance of piercing it.

The problem? Lyra was not facing the door. Upon hearing the hooves outside she had taken to hiding under the counter, likely hoping to shoot the pony in the back. This was also not a bad plan, but Carbine’s guns being on the counter would immediately give away our position. Savage would take too long to position, Missile would not have the frame of mind to throw a grenade, the Uzi was nowhere in sight, and I was unused to firing firearms. A full assault by Carbine was our only hope, which could be potentially nullified by a shield.

In my mind there was only one course of action.

I swiped Anarchy and Tenacity off of the counter. When Carbine opened his mouth to protest, I clamped a hoof over his mouth, and pressed another to my lips. Not taking my eyes off of him, I flicked my tail in the direction of the cigarette cabinet. If it could show my reflection it could show our guest’s as well. When the fourth pony entered we could watch them, and decide when to attack.

Carbine looked over at Lyra, and so did I. She looked back at me, and for a moment I forgot about our impending conflict. There was love in her eyes, a promise of everlasting happiness. It was a love so pure and powerful it would make the Holy Mother proud. Or something to that effect. Ugh. It seemed I never stopped being a bad poetry writer. But regardless of my talents, or lack thereof, I knew I had a mare who loved me. And I would be damned before I would let her be killed by some overzealous prick. Overzealous prick? That was a new one.

She nodded once, and Carbine did the same. Good, time to get to work.

I could hear hooves tapping against the tiles. Slumping to the floor, I gazed into the broken glass. I was not able to see the fourth pony, but I was able to make out a green barrier. Good thing I decided against the full assault plan. The sound of hooves stopped, and I assumed the pony was conducting an ocular sweep of the room. I prayed there was no spell which could detect our positions. Or, for a dash of irony, that we would be spotted by our reflections in the glass.

I crouched closer to the floor, just in case.

A loud, and needlessly melodramatic, sigh echoed throughout the store. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to face you head on. From what I hear that’s more your style, Red Terror.”

Of course he would say that. By appealing to Carbine’s ego he cou—Red Terror? Really? That was the best name they could give him? Granted, I could not think of any better ones off the top of my head. But if I really thought abo—Priest Slayer! While he had not actually killed the priest in Hospitality, assuming he had not died from an infection, it sounded more malignant than Red Terror.

The sudden feeling of being wet snapped me out of my tangent. I should have been thankful. After all, I needed to be focused if I wanted to survive. But did it really need to be urine?

Missile’s shaking had returned. He was hugging his backlegs, and rocking back and forth. “He’s found me. He’s found me.” He kept whispering those three words, as the yellow puddle beneath him grew.

The first order of business was calming Missile down. Not taking my eyes off of the reflection, I tapped him on the shoulder. He flinched away from my hoof; I flinched too when I saw the tears in the colt’s eyes. He was an insolent little brat, and I knew if I held him I was likely to get pissed on. But I was not about to let a child cry.

I picked Missile up, set him on my lap, and patted him on the head.

He looked up at me, wet tears staining his cheeks. I met his gaze as warmly as I could; I even smiled at him. Given how he was still leaking and there was a pony out to kill me and my companions, it was not the most comforting look in the world. Even by my standards. His shakes were subsiding, though, so I assumed I was at least somewhat comforting.

Missile rested his head on my chest, and raised a hoof to my neck. I flinched again, but managed to restrain myself from lashing out. Rather, I lowered my head to his and kissed his forehead. I highly doubted it was something brothers did, not that I was ready to call him my brother given what had happened at the church was his suggestion, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Red Terror? Where are you?”

Oh, right. Murderous zealot. Our guest had been walking while I was consoling Missile. He was a closer to the greeting cards now, and I was able to get a decent view of his reflection. It would have been better if my vision had not started growing hazy again, but I would take what I could get.

The fourth pony was a unicorn stallion, but I had already learned that from the barrier and Missile’s use of the word "he." What I could tell now was the unicorn was lanky, and an aqua-ish color. Blue, green, turquoise, something to that effect. Not important. What was important was his thin frame. There was a good chance our guest had low stamina. If that was true, it might mean a weak barrier. While I would much rather launch a surprise attack, a full-assault was not fully out of the question. Still, Savage was our best shot of breaking the barrier with one shot. If only we had another weapon. Something both powerful and stealthy that could weaken the barrier enough to guarantee a kill shot from Savage.

My brow furrowed, and I tapped my head with a hoof. You should be able to think of something , Symphony. Think, think, think. Which would be so much easier if my headache had not returned.

“Okay, Symph. I’ve waited for you to come up with a plan, but now I really want to shoot something. Unless you come up with something, I’m going to go boom boom on his ass with T n A,” Carbine whispered.

Ugh! A headache and added pressure from Carbine. This was no—wait! Boom boom? Grenades! I had forgotten about those. If we could roll a grenade by his shield the blast should be enough to weaken the barrier. I was so thrilled with Carbine I could kiss him. If that was something I did to ponies not named Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Which I did not.

I reached into the pocket of Missile’s hood, and pulled out two metallic apples. Due to my blurry vision I could not tell what color the bands were. Blue, green, turquoise, something to that effect. I highly doubted there was much difference between a blue grenade and a green one. Looking at my unicorn companions, I made a series of gestures. I mimed rolling the grenades, firing the sniper rifle, and then I pointed at Carbine. Although I had trouble making out his facial features, I could almost feel Carbine grinning.

I felt the grenades levitate out of my hoof, and watched them levitate towards Lyra. She pulled the stems out of the metallic apples, and rolled them towards the target.

Emotions swirled inside me as I waited for the grenades to go off. I felt proud that my plan was about to work. There was joy in being able to protect my in-progress family. This pony intended on killing Lyra and his companion had shot me with an arrow, so there was nothing to stop me from hating him. But hate felt wrong. It did not hurt per say, certainly not as much as the arrow had, but it conflicted with the teachings I had been raised on. Violating the Holy Mother’s teachings by hating made me feel guilty. Planning to kill another pony made me feel guilty.

Despite my blurry vision, I could clearly see Nightshade’s corpse. Oh Goddess, I was going to kill another pony! Not by my hooves but… in a moment it would be too late. My plan would be set into action, and my hooves would be stained with blood I could never wash off. There was only one thing I could do.

I closed my eyes, touched a hoof to my heart, and prayed the Holy Mother would forgive me.

She did not have to.

My vision returned in time for me to watch the grenades explode. They released an electric surge which would be more than enough to overpower an electronic. Too bad our guest was a flesh and blood pony. The turquoise, I had been on the right track, unicorn spun around just as Savage fired. The bullet tore through the air, but was not able to penetrate the shield. As the bullet dropped to the floor, Carbine jumped onto the counter and aimed his guns. Bullets and buckshot bombarded the unicorn two seconds too late.

The turquoise unicorn dove in-between the greeting card stand and a shelf full of stale junk food. “We meet at last, Red Terror. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but the existence of your kind makes me sick.”

“Oh, well shit. Good to know the feelings mutual.” Tenacity cocked once, as Anarchy sprayed rounds into the stand. “Still alive there, fuckboy?” Carbine yelled over the gunfire.

“Very much so, Red Terror. Your weapons are ineffective against a Cadanite priest.”

“Then why are you hiding?” Lyra tilted Savage so that the barrel was pointing towards the stand.

“Oh? You have more company than Sombra and Absalom? It seems I’ve underestimated you, Red Terror.”

I noticed he avoided answering the question.

“Absalom?” Lyra echoed. “Who’s that?”

Quick hot breaths fell upon my chest. I glanced down to see Missile lift his hood up, and stare in the direction of the priest’s voice. Absalom, huh? I had always thought Missile to be a strange name for a crystal pony.

Carbine hopped off the counter, and I craned my neck to get a better view of the action.

“That was Missile’s name once upon a time,” he said, practically skipping towards the junk food shelf. “I never really cared for the details. The King just ordered me to shoot up a building while he beat up a priest.” He fired Tenacity twice into the space between the stand and shelf. “Next thing I know we have a kid in our group. Ain’t that right, Bro?”

“Yeah!” Missile’s voice cracked, and his cheeks immediately turned red. “I mean, yeah. That’s how I met Somby and Bro.”

Nice story, terrible timing. As much as I cared about the histories of my companions, and to my credit that statement was only partially sarcastic, I would have rather had this conversation when we were not in a fight. While the fourth pony, who was now virtually confirmed as the priest, had not yet attacked, I doubted he was without a trick or two up his sleeve.

Was it me or had it gotten hot all of a sudden?

A ball of green flame sailed towards Carbine. With a profane shout, he lunged away from the ball. But not from the steam. The ball emitted hot air, which stung his unarmored hide. To his credit, Carbine did not scream as the steam burned his side. He just grinned.
He rolled towards the greeting card stand, and took cover. He cocked Tenacity, and gingerly rubbed his flank. “Well, what do you know, Thirteen? I think my flank might now be hotter than yours.”

“As if,” Lyra scoffed. She ran a hoof through her aquamarine mane, and gave it a flip. Maybe it was due to my vision acting up, but I was certain I saw the air around her sparkle. She sneered, as she adjusted Savage towards the faint green light. “As if there could ever be something hotter than my flank.”

Savage fired another round. While not as loud as it had been during my dazed state, it still hurt my ears. So did the ensuing scream. The priest stumbled backwards, and knocked the shelf over. With nothing to support him, he fell over as well, giving me a proper view of him.

His face was younger than I imagined, roughly Orchestra’s age. That surprised me. Most priests I knew had been old and wrinkled. This was my first time meeting a priest who was halfway handsome. Okay, more than halfway. Nothing weird about admitting another stallion was good-looking. Just as there was nothing weird with looking at another stallion’s flank to see what his cutie mark was. In this case, it was a burning altar. It was strange that I could see it though, as he was wearing CDF barding. For some reason the CDF logo can been cut out of the barding, exposing his flanks. Odd trend to say the least.

Unfortunately for him, there had been nothing to protect his horn. Starfall’s horn had been concaved due to being hit with a blunt object, but had still been intact. The priest’s horn had been severed into two pieces. The stub was misshapen, while the rest of his horn was out of sight. After seeing the priest’s horn, I really did not want to imagine what happened to the archer’s head. Again, my mind thought it pertinent to remind me of Nightshade’s death.

I held my mouth closed with a hoof, and I turned my head away from Missile. Once he was safely out of the line of fire I threw up. At least it went well with the rest of the floor.

When I gazed back at the priest, I saw Carbine standing in front of him; Anarchy and Tenacity were by his side. The priest’s lips were twisted into a snarl, and tears cascaded from his eyes. He stopped screaming though. Clutching the stump of his horn, he rose to his hooves and pressed his forehead against Anarchy’s barrel.

“The Goddess is my shepherd. I shall not want. She maketh me lie down in green pastures. She leadeth me beside still waters. She restoreth my soul. She leadeth me in paths of righteousness for her name’s sake.” He stopped to catch his breath. He wiped fresh tears out of his face, revealing a sharp emerald gaze. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

“CARBINE!” Sombra trudged into the doorway. There were deep cuts in his cheeks, a large contusion on his chest, and the color had drained from his face. His breaths were shallow and rapid, yet his gaze remained firm. “Carbine,” he coughed, hacking up blood. “I need him alive. Don’t kill him.”

“You mustn’t strain yourself further, sir.” It was then I noticed the frail white unicorn standing next to him. His face was drenched in sweat, and his glasses were lopsided. Ignoring this, he used his shoulder to support Sombra. But when he saw the priest he squeaked, and hung his head. The half pony, I presumed.

The priest coughed, a sneer etched on his face. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy sh—”

—all follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Goddess forever. I had always liked that psalm. Shame I would never be able to hear it without a vision of Carbine murdering a priest appearing in my mind.

The first bullet was enough to kill the priest. The second bullet was a precaution. The third bullet was overkill, but not impossible to justify. The eighth was just unnecessary. The frail unicorn watched in horror as his companion was executed in front of him, while Sombra’s face was as cold as stone. I saw Lyra wince after the third shot, but she had no other reaction. I wondered how long it would take before I could watch a pony die without reacting.

Carbine looked at me with a grin, but it evaporated once he saw Sombra. “Oh, hey Somby.” He turned his head, and looked at the dead body. Rubbing the back of his mane, he chuckled. “Sorry. My, uh, magic slipped. Yeah! Magic slippage, unicorn thing. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

A sigh rumbled in Sombra’s throat. A sigh that was noticeably weaker than his usual ones. “I always you knew you’d be the death of me, Carbine.”

“What can I say, I’m ju—”

“Shut up and listen!” Sombra coughed again, but did not take his eyes off of Carbine. “You owe me, Carbine. I could have killed you when you shot me, but instead I took you in. You remember that?”

Carbine nodded slowly. “Yeah, but Somby…”

“I’m calling in that debt now.” He took a step towards Carbine, and winced. The frail unicorn put a hoof on his shoulder, but Sombra shoved him away and kept walking. “Missile makes it, you hear me? No matter what happens you get him across the border. You give him the life that,” he paused to spit on the priest’s corpse. “This abomination denied him.” He rested a hoof on Carbine’s shoulder, and panted heavily. “Can you do that, Carbine?”

The grin was now gone from the maroon unicorn’s face. Carbine’s expression had an equal mix of apprehension and determination, but the majority could be equated to flat out confusion. “Sure. That’s no problem for a motherfucker like me.”

For the first time in our journey together I saw Sombra smile. There were little, near invisible, smiles every now and then, and the occasional show of having a sense of humor. But this was the first time I saw his whole face smile. It was just like the filly in Hospitality, a real smile.

He turned his head towards Lyra. “I know you have no love for anything religious, Miss Heartstrings. But I would like for you and Symphony to visit Reverend Bones for me. I’m not asking you to fight anypony for him on my behalf. I just want him to be warned about the CDF.”

She nodded, and rubbed a hoof across her face. “Yes, I can do that for you,” she said with an edge of sadness to her voice.

“And Symphony.” Our eyes met. The light was steadily fading from his eyes, and I noticed his body was slumping more. I had always thought I was perceptive, but it was not till we locked eyes that I realized what Sombra was actually saying. These were his last words. “Whatever happens to you on your travels, don’t forget your faith. And may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

I touched a hoof to my heart, and reached the hoof out to him. It meant it to say I wished him the same. I only hoped he understood the gesture.

He took his hoof off Carbine’s shoulder, staggered slightly, but remained on his hooves as he repeated the gesture. “Missile?” he croaked.

The colt fluttered out of my embrace, and onto the counter. “Yeah, Som—woah, you look terrible.”

A harsh, raspy, laugh escaped from Sombra’s lips. “Yes, I’ve seen better days.” He took a step towards Missile. “Promise me that you’ll survive, Missile. That you’ll make it to Equestria, and have the life you deserve.”

Missile smiled and flipped his mane in a manner similar to Lyra, albeit minus the sparkles I may have hallucinated. “Sure. That’s no problem for a motherfucker like me.”

Sombra grimaced as he took another step. “No more free passes. Missile, you’re gro—” Sombra collapsed face first onto the tile floor. His back hooves were twitching, and I could hear him breathing. It was enough to know he was still with us, but I doubted he would be for much longer.

Anarchy and Tenacity clattered to the floor, while Carbine ran towards his friend. Lyra hopped over the counter, and Missile fluttered after her. I made my way around the counter, but did not approach the body. I was completely ignorant to medical practices, and did not want to be in anypony’s way. Also, I did not want to be anywhere near the frail unicorn, who I assumed was the tracker. He may have helped Sombra walk back to us, but there was no telling what was going on in his mind.

Lyra and Carbine moved Sombra onto his back. Missile stood by Sombra’s head, and gingerly tapped his cheeks. There was no response. He tapped harder. There was still no response. I had heard once that the definition of insanity was repeating an action and expecting a different result. If so, then Missile was certifiably insane. No matter how hard he hit Sombra, the older stallion made no response.

I cautiously approached, and tapped Missile on the shoulder.

He turned around, tears falling from his eyes. My lack of perception kicked in again, as I realized Missile was unable to tell how critical Sombra’s health was. He had not been trying to play it cool when he was talking a second ago, he was simply speaking to his friend. To the pony he viewed as his father. A pony he was about to lose. “He’s not waking up, Symph,” he sniffled. “He’s not waking up.”

What could I say? The technical answer was nothing, but what could I do? Lyra had positioned Sombra to his head was on her lap. She may have said something about keeping him elevated, but I was not sure. Carbine was speaking with, and by speaking with I mean profanely shouting at, the tracker. That left me as the only pony able to comfort Missile. I needed to do something.

I rested my tail on his shoulder, in an attempt to be comforting. He proceeded to use my tail to wipe his tears, and blow his nose. Thank the Goddess there was not any snot. He buried his face in my tail, noticeably looking away from Sombra’s body.

“Po… po… poison. He’s been poisoned.”

I, however, made an effort to watch the ponies around the body. The tracker was lying on his back. His glasses were hanging off of his face, and his hooves were spread in front of him to protect from Carbine’s jabbing hoof. His defenses proved utterly pregnable, as Carbine jabbed him thrice in the chest.

“Then. Help. Him.”

“I can’t!” The tracker tried to stand up, but his glasses fell off his face. He managed to catch them with his teeth before they hit the floor. He threw them into the air with a flick of his head, and they landed perfectly on his face. His horn glowed dull orange, and he pointed to the priest. “He was the one with the healing spells. I’m just good with chems.” A small black vial floated next to him. “This is all the anti-venom we had with us. It’s enough to supplement Telebrah’s magic, or cure a small dosage of poison. But it won’t save your friend.”

“How do you know that?” Carbine demanded. “If you’re a doctor, then aren’t you supposed to try and save ponies?”

He was a doctor? I studied him more thoroughly. The frail stature and glasses did give off the impression of an academic, as did the unkempt nature of his brown mane and tail. But it did not explain why he was traversing the Crystal Wasteland. I doubted any self-respecting doctor would willingly go on a quest to kill ponies.

Carbine lashed out with a hoof, but the tracker cradled the vial to his chest.

“I am. He’s exerted himself too much, and he said I should save the anti-venom for another.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he said! You’re giving him that to him.” Carbine tried grabbing the vial again, but stopped when I slapped his hoof away.

I felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Missile to sob alone, but I could not let Carbine continue in his current frame of mind. I just witnessed him kill one pony; I did not want to see him kill another.

Carbine’s eyes burned into me. He took a step forward, with his face nearly touching mine. “Get out of the way, Symphony.” I did not. “I said.” Anarchy and Tenacity levitated beside him, and pointed at me. “Get out of the way.” Still, I did not.

The Doctor trembled behind me. He whimpered, which vaguely resembled a sentence, and I felt something a warm liquid splash against my backlegs. If I was not locked in a staring match with Carbine I would have rolled my eyes, and attempted a throaty groan.

“Put your guns down, Carbine,” Lyra said firmly. “We shouldn’t be turning on each other.”

He glared at her. “Like fuck I will!” He spat, and pressed Anarchy’s muzzle against my temple. “Tell him to get his ass out of the way. OR, tell this asshole to save Sombra.”

“There’s no point to that.” Her voice cracked, tears falling from her eyes. “He was fighting the stallion with the morning star, and the activity increased his heart rate, and blood flow. Which means the poison…”

She did not have to finish. The poison had coursed through him while his blood had been pumping adrenaline. I knew adrenaline made blood flow faster, which more or less made the body stronger for a limited time. Therefore, the poison had spread through his body quicker than it should have. Sombra was already dead when he stepped into the doorway.

The Doctor stepped beside me, and held out the vial. “Symphony, he told me to give you the anti-venom.”

What? He wanted me to have the anti-venom? But I had not been poisoned. Unless… I looked down at my leg, and my headache returned. The arrow had been laced with poison. My activity had not been as strenuous as Sombra’s, but I had felt my heart rate increase after being shot. Goddess above, it was increasing now that I realized what my situation was.

That was when I collapsed.

The floor was cold dirty, but I was willing to ignore it. I felt tired, so very tired. As the world around me gradually faded to black I found myself looking at Sombra, and the final smile etched on his face.

Long live the King.

Footnote: Level Up!

New Perk: Blaze of Glory-You survived your first battle. You’re a star! Damage threshold increased by 5%.

Author's Note

And there it is, the first major death of Crystal Hearts. I know the past two chapters have been slow and dialogue heavy, and I was mostly just trying to establish the main party and their relationships before coming to this chapter. I tried to put some action in this chapter, and I hope it was a nice change of pace. Granted, there was still a lot of talking in the middle, but I wanted to give everypony a chance to speak so I wouldn’t single Sombra out.

As always, I’d like to thank Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria, other writers who continue to contribute to the universe, my editors and pre-readers, and all my readers. I hope you enjoy the story, and will support the story by leaving feedback.

1.4: Reverie

Chapter 1.4, Reverie
“It saddens me to think how quickly we resort to violence.”

I hated my CDF uniform. The black fabric did not go well with my blue eyes, the bowtie was impossible to get right on my own, and it was itchy. As if on cue, I felt the urge to scratch my back leg. An urge I was happy to satisfy.

“Really, Symphony? If you can’t handle an itchy uniform how can we trust you to protect our borders?”

I scoffed as Lyra sauntered beside me. My job was as an entertainer, not as a soldier. The uniform was more of a formality than as actual barding.

Lyra rubbed her tail against my flank, and kissed me on the cheek. “Besides, I don’t want you to crinkle it. I’ve always had a thing for stallions in uniform.”

I loved my CDF uniform. I stood up a little straighter, and made no efforts to conceal the fact that I was checking her out. Lyra wore a striking red dress, with streaks of gold and green around her shoulders; she also had a light orange shawl that trailed behind her as she passed. She twirled once, and I noticed she was wearing an emerald pendant. Finally, the lone golden hoop earring she received from her mother dangled from her ear. This was exactly what she had worn on the day we met on the streets of Haven.

“How do I look?” she asked with a flutter of her eyes.

“Like a goddess,” I replied. Blasphemous, I know, but I could not think of anything else in the moment. Now that I thought about it, the words perfect and divine came to mind. Oh, well. I doubted the Holy Mother would be too angry with my choice of words.

Lyra smirked, and tapped me on the nose. “Don’t let ‘Chestra hear you saying things like that. She’ll have you arrested for blasphemy.”

I chuckled, and tapped her nose as well. “Believe me, Lyra, I am sure she considered it on our wedding.”

“She’s not the only one. If you ask me, it should be illegal for anypony to marry my sister.”

I rolled my eyes at the sound of Carbine’s voice. Lyra’s younger brother trotted down the stairs. His usually coarse mane had been groomed, for once, and he was wearing one of my tuxedos. Every few steps I saw him grimace and scratch a different part of his body. I could empathize.

Lyra wrapped a hoof around her brother’s shoulder when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and grinned. “Aww, you look so cute when you’re dressed up.”

“I do not!” he protested with a stomp of his hoof.

“Sure you do. Now just hold still for a second.” She lifted his chin with a hoof, and used another to pat down his mane. “You need to look more than just cute for tonight.”

Carbine groaned, but let his sister work her magic. Then he saw me chuckling. He stomped his hoof again, and pointed at me. “Just wait till your sister gets here. Then we’ll see how sh—Ow!”

Lyra thumped him on the head. “I told you not to move. There’s some dandruff in your hair I need to get out, and your bowtie is slightly off.” She sighed affectionately, as she looked back at me. “I don’t know what it is about stallions and bowties.”

Me neither. They were so simple, yet I could never get mine right. Even now it looked crooked. I wanted to fix it, but I knew Lyra would thump me too if I ruined her hard work. Maybe if I was subtle enough…

“Lyra!” Carbine waved his hoof at me. “He’s fixing his bowtie. Now it’s all crooked.”

Lyra thumped him again, but did turn around just in time to see my hoof ever so slightly touching my bowtie. Whoops.

The knocking on the door saved me from vicious retaliation. Lyra narrowed her eyes at me, and threateningly wagged her hoof. I blew her a kiss as I trotted into the living room, and towards the front door. Well, Symphony, you did it. Both of the girls promised not to kill the other, and Carbine will have a date to keep him company. This was going to be a lovely evening, and every memory would be cherished for the rest of my days.

I opened the door, and was greeted by the sight of Orchestra and Joab snogging. I felt a correction was in order. Every memory except that one, would be cherished. “Really, you two? You just knocked, not a minute ago. Could you not go a few seconds without sucking face?” A stupid phrase, but one I felt adequately expressed my disgust. At least, I said it with disgust.

The two separated, and stared at me with differing expressions. Joab’s ears fell, and he gave me an embarrassed smile. ‘Chestra just glared at me. “Get off your high griffon, Symphony. How many times have I had to watch you and Lyra, as you put it, ‘suck face?’”

Very good point, well made. I stepped aside, bowed, and gestured to the inside of my house. "Lieutenant Joab, Captain 'Chestra." She frowned, and her glare intensified at me using her pet name. "Welcome to my humble abode."

The two stepped inside, their tails entwined, and their uniforms glowing faintly in the candlelight. I heard Joab gasp, and Orchestra continued nodding to herself. “This is a nice place, little brother. You and your we—wife, have done well for yourselves.” She abruptly stopped walking, causing Joab to trip. I only barely resisted the urge to chuckle. She released her tail from his, and approached my desk. She quickly sifted through the quills and parchment, eventually picking up a picture frame. “You still have it.”

“Of course I do,” I helped Joab to his hooves. I did not have to look to see what picture she was talking about. Orchestra may have been a higher rank, but she and I enlisted in the CDF together. That picture was of our unit after we graduated basic. Joab, Starfall, Uziel, and even Sergeant Sombra had decided to take it with us. I may have lost touch with most of them, but they were a family to Orchestra and me for a time. And I never took family for granted.

“Is that our unit photo?” Joab snatched it away from Orchestra with his magic. He instantly frowned when he saw it. “I looked like a jackass back then.”

“Who says you stopped?” I chuckled.

“You mouthy little shit,” he replied with a cocksure grin. He arched his back to pounce, but was quickly thumped on the head.

“We’re guests here, Joab.” Orchestra grasped the picture with her mouth, and returned it to the desk. “And it’s rude for a guest to pounce on their host.” I would have gloated, but my sister quickly rounded on me. “And you…-’ve got some dust on you.” With a flick of her tail, Orchestra was wiping the dust off my shoulders. “Stallions. Is it really too much to ask for you to care about your appearance?”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Lyra stepped into the living room, with Carbine trailing behind her. “Welcome to our home,” she said with a curtsey.

“Hey, where’s my date?” Carbine asked.

Lyra grimaced, and violently nudged his shoulder. He winced as he bowed, and I was relatively certain I heard him muttering under his breath.
A large, to the point of feeling forced, smile appeared on my wife’s face. “Dinner will be ready in just a few moments. I’m sure Symphony can show you to the table.”

Could I? Could I really? It was such a monumental task I was not sure if I was up to it. Walking to the table was a challenge all on its own, but showing it to my sister and brother-in-law? How could Lyra impose such a challenge on me?

“Well, yeah. It’s not like it’s hard.” Carbine said with a roll of his eyes.

And there went the joke. Great job pointing out the obvious, Carbine. I swore, if he were in the CDF he would have been a captain.

Orchestra bowed to my wife, and wore an equally forced smile. “Thank you so much, Lyra, for inviting Joab and I into your home. You have no idea how surprised I was to receive your invitation.”

I could imagine. I had seen Lyra’s reaction when I asked her permission. I banished myself to the couch that night. It seemed safer than the bed.

“And that’s the problem.” Lyra threw her hooves around Orchestra, and hugged her. “You’re family, Orchestra. It should never come as a surprise that Symphony and I want to see you.”

I noticed Orchestra’s hooves twitching, and her tail resting on her kirpan’s handle. I loved my sister, but I was legitimately afraid of her in that moment. I was about to break up the hug when the unexpected happened. Orchestra returned it. My sister was willingly touching a non-crystal pony? Well, I was unaware Tartarus had frozen over. Maybe now snowballs could actually stand a chance.

“You’re right, Lyra. You’re a part of my family now. My sister.”

To my surprise, again, Orchestra sounded somewhat genuine. There was still noticeable strain in her voice, and I noticed her tail never left the kirpan handle. But this was a remarkable improvement over their last encounter; I could still see the stitches in Orchestra’s temple.

Joab leaned towards me, and whispered, “Who are these mares, and what have they done with our wives?”

“Hopefully made better cooks out of them.”

The entire house fell completely silent as I uttered that. Of course it did. Tartarus may have frozen over, but I had a feeling the couch would be a warm place to spend the night. Lyra and Orchestra separated, with both mares smiling at me. The kind of smiles I had only before seen in my nightmares.

Lyra trotted towards the kitchen, passing Joab and I on our way. “As I said, dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Hopefully by then I’ll have picked up a few cooking tips. I want to prepare a special dish for my hubby.”

I dared not wonder what “special dish” was a euphemism for.

“So… where’s my date?” Carbine asked.

Joab face-hoofed. “Oh, right. Sorry we forgot to let you know ahead of time. Starfall had to cancel. Her kid’s in the hospital.”

I gasped. “Absalom’s in the hospital? What happened? Is he okay?”

Joab nodded. “Yeah, yeah. The kid’s fine. Just a broken leg, and a clipped wing. Apparently he tried to copy something out of the Flash! comics Starfall reads to him.” He rolled his eyes. “Kids these days, right?”

Speaking of kids. Carbine threw his head back, and groaned like a small child. “And I even got dressed up!”

Joab and Orchestra shared a look. I knew it well. It was the same look Lyra and I shared when we took Carbine in public. “If it’s any consolation,” Joab began, “You look… nice. Doesn’t he, dear?” He added with a not very subtle nudge to my sister.

She glared at him, as she rubbed her shoulder. “Yes, very nice indeed,” she said without looking at Carbine.

“But she’s not even gonna see it!” The maroon moron accentuated his displeasure by stomping his hoof. Again, like a small child. The force of the stomp knocked his tie askew, causing Carbine’s face to scrunch up. He muttered to himself, as he tried to fix it. “Stupid motherfucking useless motherfucking tie. Can’t get damn motherfucker right.”

Quite the vocabulary he had there. Maybe next time he would remember to use the word "the."

“Are you quite through, Carbine?” He was still fiddling with his bowtie, but seemed to have stopped his tantrum. “Then I will happily show you to your seats.”

The seating arrangements had been planned in advance. Orchestra and I would sit next to each other, while our significant others would sit across from us. Carbine was situated next to Lyra, while Starfall’s empty seat was next to me. Lyra had only taken a few minutes to arrive with our dinner, a platter of gourmet pancakes. Mine had been delicious, which honestly scared me. If Lyra had intended on making me suffer from food poisoning, then she would have to make the food delicious. Otherwise I would not have eaten much. From the way she smirked at me, I feared I was correct. Clever girl.

Her smirk was the last thing I saw before the light went out. Odd, seeing as our house was lit by candles.

“The fuck just happened?!” Carbine quickly received a thump from his sister. “What was that for?”

“I don’t want you swearing at the table. It’s rude. Symphy?” I hated it when Lyra called me that. “Would you be a gem, and go light the candles?”

“Yes, dear.” I needed to get this done as fast as possible. I had been in the process of pouring syrup over my third pancake when the lights went out. I was still hungry, and I refused to eat a pancake without syrup.

“That won’t be necessary, Lyra,” Orchestra stated, with a hint of smugness in her voice.

Just then, there was a flash of light. I closed my eyes and shielded them with my hooves, but they were still stung by the brilliance of the light. I should have questioned why there was such a bright light in my house, but all I wondered was when I would be able to open my eyes.

“It’s okay, Symphony.” I felt a pair of hooves move mine from my face. “You can open your eyes.”

The voice was familiar and foreign all at once. It sounded vaguely of Orchestra, but the cadence was different. Whoever was speaking possessed a regality to their voice. It was as if I were in the presence of a princess. Wait a moment. The voice of a princess, and a bright ethereal glow? Could it be the Holy Mother? Perhaps my wife and sister coming together was due to the power of the Holy Mother’s love. The candles were extinguished because no light was needed but her own. It was a tad dramatic, but she was a goddess. The Goddess. She was allowed to have a dramatic flair.

I opened my eyes, ready to experience the glory of Cadance.

Princess Orchestra stared back at me. A horn protruded from her forehead, while two shimmering golden wings adorned her back. Her luminescent golden coat was the brightest light I had ever seen, yet somehow provided no light for the rest of the room. At this point, I did not bother asking any questions. It was obvious now that I had been dreaming.

I thought the world of my sister, most of the time, but even I could admit her becoming a princess was farfetched. Also, there was no way she and Lyra would have hugged otherwise. The two of them getting along was a nice fantasy though. I saw no reason to stop the fantasy from playing out.

Princess Orchestra stepped onto the table, and her horn flared. An ethereal ball was launched from her horn towards the ceiling. The ball exploded into a shower of sparks, because why not, and the sparks provided light to the rest of the room. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden illumination, but I was soon able to see everything clearly.

I wished I had not.

They were dead. Carbine, Joab, Lyra… each of their heads rested on the table with their throats slit. I lurched forward, and threw up over my pancakes. It was more than just the sight of their bodies; there was also the smell of their blood. It was everywhere, even in the syrup! Wait, the syrup? Oh, Goddess no. I dipped my hoof into the pitcher. When I pulled it out, my hoof was dripping with blood. I immediately threw up again.

No, calm down, Symphony. Calm down. This was not real. This could not be happening.

“Of course this is real, Symphony.” Orchestra, who had been surprisingly quiet during my episode, started to approach me. “Don’t you understand, little brother? I’m all the family you need.”

I fell out of my chair, and stumbled towards the back wall. As soon as I did so, I realized how stupid it was. I was unable to go backpedal any further, and Orchestra could easily intercept me if I went forward. I may have needed to brush up on my card phrases, but I knew one game phrase I could apply. Checkmate.

Orchestra chuckled, as she sauntered towards me. “Come now, Symphony, there’s no need to be so dramatic.” She stopped in front of me, and kneeled down until we were eye level. She brushed my face with a hoof, and used another to prop up my chin. “Just sit back, relax, and let me be your Princess.”

I had been wrong. I was not having a dream. This was a nightmare. And it was time for me to wake up.

***

My vision was blurry when I opened my eyes. Thankfully there was no splitting headache, but I would have rather woken up with my eyes working right. Though I supposed I should have been grateful to wake up at all. The priest in Hospitality had preached about some ponies not having the luxury of seeing another morning. Sombra was among those ponies now.

I considered sitting up, but since my leg still hurt I decided lying down would be more comfortable.

“You’re awake! Thank the Holy Mother!”

I vaguely recognized the voice. I believed it was the Doctor who had the anti-venom, but I had not heard his voice enough to be completely sure. I turned my head to see… I started hyperventilating. Injured leg or not, I needed to get out of here.

“Symphony? Are you alright?”

A decaying hoof slowly reached out towards me. I quickly swatted it away, and tumbled off the cot onto the ground. A chunk of rotten flesh I had swatted fell from the leg, instantly decaying the part of the floor it had touched. So it decayed anything that it came into contact with? Note to self, avoid contact at all… costs… With a feeling of dread, I looked down at my hoof.

The once azure color had mutated into a sick shade of… something. Who cared about the stupid color? The decay was crawling from my hoof up to my leg! If I did not act soon it would effect the rest of me. Would it kill me? I did not want to find out; I was not going to.

I stood up, ignoring the pain shooting up my leg. Step one complete. For step two I was going to need my… over there. My saddlebags had been placed in a spot close to the cot. Conveniently, said spot was right in front of me.

There was a chuckle behind me. “Symphony, there’s no need to worry. I’m Doctor Zimri. Your friends and I brought you here.”

So what? Was that supposed to make me feel better? The decay had almost completely taken over my leg. I needed to hurry before it spread to my back. I rummaged through my bag, violently yanking Savage out. Ah, there it was sitting at the bottom. My salvation.

“I wonder if he’s still suffering side-effects,” the Doctor muttered. “Symphony, I don’t know if you see anything, bu—put the knife down!”

No way, Doctor. This thing could kill me, and I needed to stay alive. I was going to have a life with Lyra when we crossed the border. I was going to help Carbine look after Missile for Sombra’s sake. I would not let this thing kill me. My leg was worth risking. I raised the infected leg towards my mouth, and… and… and, why did I feel so good? The knife clattered onto the ground, and I was not far behind. I face-planted onto the cot. At least, my face was on the cot. The rest of my body dangled off the side. The picture of dignity.

I heard a sigh, and turned my head towards the sound. Doctor Zimri stood next to me, his glasses lopsided. He regarded me with a smile, as he adjusted his glasses. “Let me guess, you had a bizarre dream and thought everything would be fine when you woke up. But when you did, you saw something horrifying. I’m going to assume the horrifying thing was me, and whatever it was transferred to your leg. And now everything seems normal?”

That was surprisingly accurate. I nodded, a stupid smile on my lips.

“Thought so.”

He leaned towards my shoulder with his mouth open. I normally would have swatted at him, or at least backed away, but my body felt too relaxed to warrant moving. This was not lethargy; this was bliss. Until I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. I winced, and all at once the bliss melted away into normalcy. Easy come easy go.

Doctor Zimri held an empty syringe in his mouth, which he promptly spat into a nearby trash can. Or, he tried to. It bounced off the rim, and clattered to the floor. He shook his head, and used his magic to properly throw it away. “Do you know what was in that syringe?”

No, but I wanted to. I needed to know where I could get more of that feel good juice.

“It was Med-X. The anti-venom saved your life, but you seem to be suffering from side-effects. Vulpa venom is deadly, but in the right doses it can be used as a potent hallucinogenic. Med-X is used primarily as a painkiller, but it can also be used to reduce shock. In this case, it reset your brain enough to end your hallucination. I don’t know if this shot was enough to quell the effects, or if they’ll continue for a while. And I can’t give you a shot every time you start to hallucinate or else you’ll risk addiction.”

I had been injected with a potentially addictive painkiller? The better question was why I was not surprised? Of course something that amazing would be addictive. So much for my feel good juice. I just prayed I would not continue to suffer the side-effects of the vulpa venom.

He put a hoof on my shoulder, and looked straight into my eyes. “Remember, Symphony, it’s not real, and don’t lose your cool. If you had cut off your leg on my watch I don’t know what your marefriend would have done to me. Or that other one.” The Doctor shuddered, which sent his glasses askew.

Now that my body no longer felt amazing I decided movement was warranted. I reached into my saddlebag, and retrieved the quill I had found in Starfall’s tent. Seeing as I had no paper, something I hoped to rectify in the near future, I mimed writing with the quill to ask for some.

“You want some paper?” he asked, fixing his glasses. He returned my nod with one of his own. “I’ll add it to my list of travel supplies.”

Travel supplies? Was he coming with us? Why? Lyra had left me alone with him, so he was at least somewhat trustworthy. But he had still been travelling with ponies in Nero’s cult. I suddenly had the desire to learn more about Doctor Zimri. Hmm. Admittedly, I could have phrased that better.

He trotted towards the door with a saddlebag on his back, and a list hovering in front of him. “Aside from the paper I think I have everything on here. Potions, protection, ammunition, flashlight, chem—syringes!” He turned to me, and smiled sheepishly. “May I borrow your quill for a moment?”

Be my guest. I flicked my head, and tossed him the quill. He tried to catch it in-between his front hooves, but he was too early and the quill struck him in the chest. He missed it by that much. He picked it up with his mouth, scribbled something that I assumed was “syringes,” and tossed it back to me. It did not travel nearly far enough. I withheld a chuckle, assuming the disgusting noise I now made could be called a chuckle, and retrieved the quill on my own.

The Doctor coughed, and trotted towards the door. “Lyra should keep you company while I’m out. She nearly shot me when I insisted to be alone with you.” I cocked an eyebrow at that. He chuckled awkwardly, flushed, and fiddled with his glasses, which were already in proper position. “You needed rest, I needed to watch over you, and neither of us needed any distractions. It was a purely professional arrangement.”

He pushed open the door, but paused before turning back to me with a look of equal warmth and concern. “Just in case, Symphony. Remember it’s just a hallucination.” With that, Doctor Zimri disappeared from view.

This provided me with a rare moment of solitude. The type of moment I would need to sort out my emotional proble—

“Symph!”

And there went my moment.

Lyra stood in the doorway, with Missile sitting on her head. The colt had a smile that reached all the way to his bloodshot eyes. “You see, Thirteen! I told you Symph was gonna make it.”

“Of course he did. Symphony’s too stubborn to die,” she said with a wink.

Too stubborn to die? That would be a useful ability to have. I took a step towards them, but Lyra shook her head.

“Don’t get up on our account. Zimri says you still need your rest.” Lyra trotted towards me with less sensuality than usual. My first explanation was because Missile was with us, but I also noticed her eyes were only half-open.

I pointed to the bed with a quizzical stare.

“Symphony!” Lyra gasped, with a hoof over her heart in feigned distress. “I’m surprised at you. There’s a child in the room.”

What was sh—Oh. Really, Lyra? Really? Actually, the better question was why her response surprised me at all.

“I promise not to look.” Missile covered his face with his hooves, but there was enough space between them for him to peer through. I doubted Sombra would have approved.

I winced as I thought of him. I had only just started getting to really know him before he died. He was the only Cadanite among my companions, and in that way I lost a spiritual brother. Though, if I were being honest with myself, I was not all that sad. I was not happy he was dead, far from it. But his death did not hurt me, or make me want to cry. It was just another event in my life.

Wow. Only a few days in the Crystal Wasteland, and I was already unaffected by death. At this rate I would be a bonafide murderer by the end of the week.

I felt something warm press against me, and watched as Lyra rested her head on my shoulder. “Would you mind watching Missile for a while, Symphony? I hate to fall asleep on you, but he’s been keeping me busy these past few days.”

Did she just say days? And where in the hoof was here? Doctor Zimri had a shopping list, so we were likely in a town of some sorts, but which one? And where was Carbine? Ugh, all these unanswered questions were starting to hurt my head. I closed my eyes, and rubbed my temples.

I felt Lyra’s sweet lips plant a kiss on my head. “Better?”

Yes. I opened my eyes and… I forced a smile. It was not real, just a side-effect of the vulpa venom. Lyra’s face was more than a collection of teeth with an eye in the center. She had hooves, not gnarled rotting claws. She certainly did not wear a collection of hearts around her neck. As if I would fall for such a thing.

“You’ve already fallen for her lies, Symphony.” That voice. It was Orchestra’s. “Now you’re seeing her the way I do. For the monster she is.”

Having the disembodied voice of my sister whispering to me was far creepier than the monster I saw in front of me. It was still fake, but nonetheless creepy.

“Look at the kid then. Maybe seeing him will convince you that you’re travelling with monsters.”

Well, I was morbidly curious to see how Missile looked. Just remember, Symphony, this is all in your head. I shifted my gaze to look at the colt, who had flown over to the cot, and was surprised by what I saw. There were two wings, four hooves, a blue mane, and a hoodie. In other words, Missile looked exactly the same.
“Of course he does. He’s already a little monster.”

Nice try. Orchestra’s disembodied voice may have had a point, but I had a different theory. The venom had lost it potency. The Doctor had said most of it had been purged from my system. Lyra’s deformities and my sister’s voice were all it could conjure up. If my theory was right, its effects would not last much longer. It was about time too. The splitting headache had been bad enough without the hallucinations. I made a mental note to never be affected by vulpa venom again. The only plus was I barely felt the pain in my leg anymore.

Before Lyra fell asleep I did have a question for her. I looked at her, and did my best to mimic Carbine’s grin. Due to still seeing her as an abomination, I could not read her facial features. All I could tell was she shook her head. It seemed it was time to play my favorite game. Interpret that vague gesture. Right now my bets were on Carbine refusing to accept Doctor Zimri, and making an ass of himself. So, the usual.

“Hey, Symph? Can I ask you a question?”

You just did, Missile. Oh, one of the many things I hated about being mute. Nopony would ever hear my sarcasm again. Their gain I supposed.

“What’s it like to sleep for three days? Do you have one dream, lots of dreams, or what?”

I slept for three days? And there were still traces of the poison in me? I made a double note to not be affected by the poison again. As for Missile’s question, I only remembered having one dream. Though it was entirely possible I had others. I merely shrugged to reflect my uncertainty.

Missile plopped onto his back with a groan. “You’re as boring as ever, Symph.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Lyra yawned. “He didn’t stop talking about you while you were out. Couldn’t wait to spend time with his ‘Other Bro.’”

Missile shot up, and waved a hoof at Lyra. “Di… did not, Thirteen. I totally didn’t cry.”

“Never said you did,” she replied, her eyes closing.

Missile threw up his hood, but I did not fail to see the blush on his face. I chuckled, my disgusting wet noise of a chuckle, and immediately felt guilty. Missile trying to act tough was funny and all, but I knew the real reason he was worried about me. He did not want to see another companion die after losing Sombra. Poor kid.

I needed to do something for him, something to take his mind off things. Especially if Lyra needed her rest. She was not the only one that could look after a grieving child. I carefully moved away from the wall, and slightly adjusted Lyra so she would not fall over. I saw her smile, and heard her whisper my name. It sent a wave of good feelings all over my body; she just had that special way of saying my name. I gently brushed part of her mane, and kissed the tip of her horn. I really wanted to snuggle with her, and sleep beside her.

But, alas, I had a child to distract.

I took a gander through the contents of my saddlebag. Due to my earlier episode my effects were scattered on the ground, but I was able to find what I needed without too much difficulty. Hopefully I could find something on the radio to raise Missile’s spirits. Ksssh. Ksssh. Ksssh. Stupid static. I fiddled with the antennae, as I walked around the room to find a signal. The first chance I got, I was going to upgrade my radio.

“One by.. kssh… were emptied… kssh… away… Now the family is parted, will it be complete one day? Will the circle be unbroken, by and by? By and by? Is a better home awaiting in the sky? In the sky.”

The voice was soft and mournful. Whoever was singing sounded as if they were on the verge of tears, particularly at the words “by and by.” Beautiful music, but terrible timing. Missile hugged his backlegs close to his chest. He was not shaking, but I could hear a faint sniffle from under his hood. I nearly changed the channel, but stopped when I heard a familiar rasp.

“Welcome to Tombstone Radio, everypony. Brought to you by grief, everypony’s favorite companion.” The Reverend sighed, before continuing. “A little birdy told me that there was a robbery in Hospitality the other day. Now I know what you’re thinking, listener. But Reverend, that’s a merchant town. Robbery is to be expected, especially of the daylight variety.” He paused, and chuckled mirthlessly. “But this was different, listeners. Somepony had the gall to rob a church during service, and killed one of the congregation.

“Now, I try to not be a judging stallion. After all, the Holy Mother does command us all to ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’ And I understand there are desperate ponies in the Crystal Wasteland. Believe me, listeners, my heart goes out to all of them. But the Holy Mother also tells us, ‘Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.’ And I feel I would be doing the deceased and the sister he left behind a disservice if I did not call out evil when I see it so clearly.

“To the Red Terror, or whatever you call yourself, what you did was evil. I pray you will repent, and find mercy and forgiveness in the Holy Mother. Because you sure won’t find it in anypony else.” The Reverend half hissed, and half coughed into his microphone. The noise was even more disgusting than one of my chuckles.

“But,” I could feel the grin on his face as Reverend Bones continued, “not all news is bad news, listeners. Word in the Wastes is that a group of pilgrims ignored old Reverend Bones’ warning, and went scavenging around Ghoul’s Point. And it just so happens they killed any heathen ferals who crossed their path.” He chuckled again, but this time he seemed genuinely pleased. “While I can’t condone any kind of killing, being a Reverend and all, I think I speak for all my listeners when I tip my hat in thanks. Goddess speed, pilgrims, this tune goes out to you. And may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

I switched off the radio, just in case he played another sad song, and put it back in my bag. After that, silence. Missile continued to sit with his hood up, and made no effort to communicate with me. I may have deserved that. A hymn about death followed by Reverend Bones bashing Carbine was quite possibly the worst thing for Missile to listen to. I sighed, and rubbed my temples. Good Goddess above, I was terrible at this. I climbed onto the cot, and gave Missile a hug. Aside from that, I had nothing to offer.

He flipped his hood up, and looked back at me. His eyes were even redder now than they were a minute ago. He had stopped crying, but his eyes still pierced me like arrows. He must have learned that stare from Sombra. “Symph, is Bro bad?”

Uh, what? Where did this come from? I thought he was upset with me, not Carbine. Not that I was complaining. I was simply confused.

“Sombra said he always knew Bro would be the death of him. And if Bro didn’t shoot that priest, Sombra could’ve been saved. And he shot that other priest in the church, and he killed that one pony.” Missile’s stare did not relent, but I could feel the hesitation in his voice. “Symph, is Bro an evil pony?”

Reverend Bones seemed to think so. He had killed in cold blood, shot a priest for fun, and killed another despite his comrade telling him not to. I was no unicorn, but I heavily doubted the veracity of “magic slippage.” Not to mention his irreverence towards the dead. Carbine was a menace, no doubt about that, but was he truly evil? I found myself recollecting his words around the fire the other day. “I guess, while he’s not my favorite pony, I can say that I understand why he acts the way he does.”

I was not at that point yet. I may have gotten a sliver of insight into Carbine’s history, but I did not fully understand him. For my own sanity, that was for the best. But, even if I could not fully understand him it did not mean I wanted to give up on him. Sombra told me not to lose my faith, and the smiling filly made me want to have faith in other ponies. If I looked Missile in the eye and told him Carbine was evil, I would be giving up on both the maroon moron as well as on Sombra’s final request.

I shook my head.

Missile’s piercing stare lost all of its ferocity. Instead, he looked relieved. He leaned backwards, away from me, and lied down on his back. “You’re right, Symph. Bro’s too awesome to be evil. It was probably some zebra voodoo magic that made me think that.”

Zebra voodoo magic? I cocked an eyebrow, but Missile was already burying his face into a Flash! comic. That would keep him occupied, and, happy, for a little while at least. I climbed out of the cot, and slumped against the wall beside Lyra. I rested my head on hers, careful to avoid being poked by her horn, and closed my eyes. Now I just needed a few moments of silence to drift into a, hopefully peaceful, sleep.

There was a loud rapping at the door.

I opened my eyes, and grimaced at the door. Honestly, I felt no surprise. The universe seemed intent to prevent me from sleeping well. If I was being punished for a future sin, I hoped it was worth the trouble.

Lyra opened her eyes, and yawned silently. “Come in,” she said groggily. After clearing her throat, she repeated it.

The door opened, and a beige stallion with a purple beard stepped into the doorframe. He was well-built, but not overly bulky. He wore a neatly pressed CDF uniform, and a hat on his head. On his left side there was a holster for a pistol. On his right was a sheathed sword. The stallion removed his hat, revealing an extremely short purple mane. I also noticed it was adorned with a silver pin the shape of a heart. The same pin was also present on the front of his uniform. A lieutenant colonel.

“Corporal Symphony?”

Oh, right, I was wearing the uniform. Out of respect, and fearful of the repercussions of wearing scavenged barding, I saluted.

He returned the salute. “At ease, Corporal.” He cast his blue eyes at Lyra. “Ma’am.” He bowed, and put his hat back on. Then his eyes returned to me. “We have a situation at the barracks, and Doctor Zimri recommended you might be the best pony to deal with it. Can I count on you, soldier?”

Since refusing was probably a bad idea, court marshals and all that, I nodded. And pragmatic reasons aside, I was curious to see what task Doctor Zimri recommended me for.

“You heard him, soldier. It’s bad protocol to keep your officer waiting.” Lyra lightly pushed me towards the officer, and walked to the bed. “I can stay awake long enough to watch Missile while you’re gone.” She then shot a glare at the Lieutenant Colonel. “And it’s bad manners to keep a lady waiting, sir. I’ll be expecting my soldier to be back in a pristine and timely manner.”

He bowed again. “Of course, ma’am. The mission situation shouldn’t be too difficult to get under control.” His gaze switched to me, and his voice hardened with authority. “Are you ready, Corporal?”

I pointed to my knife and Savage with a raised eyebrow.

He shook his head, and began to walk towards the door. “Doctor Zimri insisted you not bring any weapons.”

That was a relief. I doubted the Doctor would want me dead after nursing me back to health. If he insisted that I not bring my weapons then I could trust my life was not in danger. Unless, of course, this was all an elaborate ruse, and he was separating me from my companions in order to return me to my sister. In that case, I should have at least brought the knife.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Missile waving. He was still too engrossed in his comic to say goodbye, but at least he was trying. I returned the wave, as I walked outside. I knew he would not see, but returning a wave was common courtesy. I have may have been growing ever so steadily colder, but I was not yet a barbarian.

I stepped outside, and was greeted by the sight of the setting sun. Colors danced across the sky, the vibrant red and cool blue blending into a haze of purple. The oranges and yellows on the horizon made it seem as if the sky were on fire. The idea was horrific, but the results were simply breathtaking. I sighed internally. I hoped the sunset would be just as beautiful across the border.

I walked with the CDF officer through a small neighborhood. The houses were much nicer than the dump I called home. These actually had shingled roofs, and were made of stone rather than creaky wood. The only improvements my dump had were the larger windows. Then again, I only had one floor to look through. These houses had two. Even if their windows were smaller, they had by far the better view.

I did not see very many ponies out. There was an old couple sitting on a porch swing, a few kids playing with a stick in the street, and I saw a cute young mare sneak out of her window to join a dashing young stallion on the ground.

The Lieutenant Colonel saw them too, and shook his head. “Teenagers.” I pointed to the door of the house, but he shook his head again. “It’s not our job to foalsit, Corporal. As long as they don’t cause trouble and are back home by nightfall, I couldn’t be bothered by what they do.” He looked back at them, and his brow furrowed. “Maybe I’d be more sympathetic if I had kids.”

I shrugged, and walked on in silence. After a minute or so the two of us reached a guard station at the edge of the neighborhood. The station had the words, “Camp Terminus,” engraved into the bottom. We were at a CDF base? I supposed being surrounded by armed guards was safer than camping in the open, but was it really wise? I did not know how many of the ponies here were in Nero’s cult. Lyra and Carbine could be in danger here, and Missile and I could be guilty by association. I prayed I would be able to make it through the day without losing another companion.

The guard station had two mares sitting inside. One, an earth pony with a mane as short as the Lieutenant Colonel’s, was vigilantly watching the horizon through a pair of binoculars. The other, a black unicorn, was vigilantly flipping through the pages of… oh my. Was that the performing mare from Hospitality on the cover? The guard leaned backwards in her chair, and I was given an ample view of the mare on the cover. Oh yes, I would recognize her flank anywhere.

The Lieutenant Colonel snatched the magazine with his hoof, and his eyes hardened. “I should have you court marshaled for this, Recruit Sunflower. This the third time I’ve caught you with contraband.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Amasa!” Recruit Sunflower’s bright yellow eyes widened, and her chair fell backwards. It landed against a wall, preventing her from plummeting to the floor. She presented the two of us with a toothy grin, and a salute. “Hehe, fancy seeing you here, sir. I thought you were handling a situation at the barracks.”

“Maybe if you actually did your job you would have noticed me when I passed by earlier,” he growled. “And I still am, Recruit. Corporal Symphony here was recommended by Doctor Zimri.”

“By the egghead?” She immediately pressed a hoof against her mouth. “I mean, that’s an impressive recommendation. Knock ‘em dead, Corporal,” she said with a wink.

Knock ‘em dead? What was I supposed to be knocking on a non-violent assignment? Pins? Oh no, I had not been asked me to join a bowling game had I? I prayed to the Holy Mother it was not bowling. If I never kicked another ball in the gutter for the rest of my days, it would be too soon.

Lieutenant Colonel Amasa rolled his eyes. “Get back to work, Recruit. And be sure to be up at 0600 hours tomorrow. I’m putting you on flag raising duty.”

Sunflower opened her mouth, but put her hoof in front of it again and nodded.

“Good.” He shook the magazine, and his face contorted in disgust. “Maybe this will teach you to not look at contraband while you’re on guard duty, Recruit.” He strutted past her, and in front of the earth pony. He saluted her, and nodded his approval. “Good work, Recruit Violet. Keep at it.”

“Sir!” she replied.

Sunflower rolled her eyes towards me. The toothy grin returned to her face, and she tilted her head in the direction of the other two. “Good luck with the egghead, and the stick in the mud,” she mouthed to me.

“Thanks,” I mouthed back, and smiled. To be honest, I thought the Lieutenant Colonel was completely in the right to punish her. She was breaking a rule, and was distracted while on guard duty. Part of it was to enforce a rule, but I knew he was also trying to protect her from making a costly mistake in the future. But I felt that I had to say thanks. I was new to my disability, and finding ways around it had been difficult. I had been too busy fixating on the loss of my voice to realize I could still use my mouth to form words. So thank you, Recruit Sunflower. You just made my life easier.

I walked past her, and found myself casting glances back her way. I was in a happy relationship, and knew gawking at mares was not an act any decent stallion should do. Even if she was abnormally cute. But it was more than her attractiveness. There was something about Sunflower’s golden mane that forced me to steal another look. I felt like I had seen it somewhere before, but could not put my hoof on it.

“Enjoying the view, Corporal?”

I flinched as if I had been struck. Actually, scratch that analogy. It was more like being caught with my hoof in a cookie jar. I felt slightly ashamed, but mostly disappointed I had been caught. Something hit me in the head, now I could use the struck analogy, and I gazed downward to find the magazine on the ground.

“I’ve never been one for mares myself, but maybe you’ll get some use out of it.”

“I thought it was contraband?” I mouthed.

He grinned at me. “There’s no such thing as contraband if you’re an officer. And since you’re not under my command, it’s none of my business what you have in your bags.”

So much for being a stick in the mud. I considered taking the magazine, only for the purpose of selling it later, obviously, but decided against it. I had no saddlebag with me, and did not want to be seen carrying around porn on my back or in my mouth. Especially in my mouth.
I ultimately walked past the magazine, though I did manage to steal a glance at it.

The main plaza of Camp Terminus was not far at all from the guard station. We had reached a nest of buildings, which were surrounding a statue. I gaped as I stared at the bronze statue of the Burned Stallion. No, my mistake. The stallion before me was not wearing a tattered cloak, nor was he shrouded in pink mist. He stood proudly on his backlegs, clutching a spear in his mouth. He was also clothed in battle regalia. There was a helmet, a chest piece, and what looked to be special shoes on his hooves. Even though it was only a statue, I could feel the power in his muscles.
This was not the Burned Stallion; this was Shining Armor.

“It seems I’m not the only one with an eye for handsome stallions,” Lieutenant Colonel Amasa mused.

Hardly. I had no qualms with admitting another stallion was attractive. Still, his comment made me feel self-conscious. I tore my eyes away from the statue, and began to look at the buildings around it. According to the signs in the plaza there was; a firing range, a commissary, an exchange, and a recreation center in the area. I had yet to find a church, but I doubted any self-respecting CDF base would be without one. Many of the lights were off, and some of the buildings were being closed. But there was one building that remained open.

The Holy Spirit, which was easily the most blasphemous name I had ever seen for a bar, was bustling with life. Ponies were walking in an out, and most of them were in large groups. One pony was lying drunk on the grass in front of the building shouting obscenities. A few ponies shouted back, but most just ignored him. I saw one pony, a scrawny unicorn, talking to him and trying to help him up. But the drunk just shoved him aside, and I heard him shout the word motherfucker at least thrice.

I smacked a hoof against my face, and groaned. It was a disgusting sound, but one that perfectly expressed how I felt. This was my task? I gave up sleeping next to Lyra for this? I stormed towards the two ponies, shoving my way past any others who were in my way. There was no time to be polite; I had a moron to deal with.

I tapped the drunk on the shoulder.

He turned around, and his mustard-yellow eyes narrowed. “Sho, yer finananaly showin’ yer face, Shymph?” He tried to stand up, but his backlegs buckled. He landed on his face, and waved a hoof at me. “Gih me a secy sec, Shymph.”

Or I could help him up. After all, he was my dear companion. I hooked one of my legs around Carbine’s neck, and yanked him to his hooves. He looked terrible, and not because he was drunk. Er, not solely because he was drunk. There was some vomit in his mane, and the side of his face. But there was more to it than that. The other day he had been struck with magical fire, and a good portion of his left side was covered in healing bandages. Hopefully they would heal him better than they had my throat.

Carbine shoved me, but I did not let him go. Instead, I stared deep into his eyes. He continued to struggle, but my gaze did not relent. When he looked back, I noticed there was something different about him. Aside from being drunk, of course. I saw no grin in Carbine, just mania. That was a terrifying concept.

He sneered at me, or at least he tried to. The muscles in his mouth did not move quite right, so his lower lip drooped instead of curled. But I understood his intent. “You killed ‘im, Shymph! You ‘n this un,” he paused, and flailed a hoof at Doctor Zimri. “You killed Sombra.”

With renewed vigor, Carbine sank his teeth into my leg. Thankfully it was not the leg that had been hit with the arrow, but it hurt nonetheless. I grit my teeth, and slammed a hoof into his face. When he refused to let go, I hit him again and again. There was a sickening crunch, and Carbine’s nose began to bleed profusely. Still, he refused to let go. Both blood and saliva dripped onto my leg, and it made me want to hit him harder. Essence of Carbine, ugh. I just hoped he did not puke on me as well.

I thought about hitting him again, and nearly did, but another thought prevented me from doing so. Carbine was not being belligerent because he was a heathen. He was grieving. I had been too focused on getting him off of me that I had yet to actually consider what he said. He blamed the Doctor and me for Sombra’s death. Lyra had shaken her head earlier when I asked her about Carbine. Of course she did. Carbine had likely spent the last few days avoiding me, and by extension her. If I had lost Lyra or Orchestra I would not want to be around the pony I blamed for their death.
It came back down to communication walls. Carbine was using alcohol as one, and I needed to break it down. I would not wish grief upon my worst enemy, let alone my companion. Besides, I wanted him to stop biting me.

I unhooked my leg from his neck. Carbine was still biting my leg, which still hurt, but I did not try to shake him off or hit him. I just looked at him with as much sympathy as I could. That seemed to make him angrier, as he bit down harder. I winced, but did not retaliate. Carbine snorted, and released his grip on me.

Only to tackle me a second later.

He pinned me to the ground, and used his magic to smash his empty bottle on the ground. The glass shattered, and a few shards cut into my cheek. I tried to move a hoof to rub my cuts, but I felt the edge of the broken bottle press against my neck. I raised my eyes. The waning sunlight made Carbine glow like a ball of wild fire. Now he was able to truly sneer at me.

Click.

Lieutenant Colonel Amasa stood behind Carbine, pressing the barrel of his revolver against the maroon moron’s head. His tongue was already resting on the trigger.

“Carbine, please, calm down!” Doctor Zimri was standing behind the officer, fiddling with his glasses. “Nopony has to die today.”

Carbine ignored them, and the maniacal grin formed on his face. “Isn’t this fitting, Symph? I get to kill one of Sombra’s killers just for the other one to have me axed off?” He sputtered out laughter. “Isn’t it fucking hilarious, Symphony?!”

No, not even in a cosmic sort of way. This was pretty far from hilarious. Especially given the stench of alcohol washing over me. I shook my head.

He titled his, and pressed his temple closer to the gun. “You know, you might be right about that, Symph. You dying isn’t all that funny. I mean, Thirteen would kill me if you died.” More laughter sputtered out of him, but it felt significantly more forced this time. “And Missile, boy would he be pissed if something happened to you. But not me. Oh no, not me.” He leaned forward, and our faces were nearly touching.

“He’s barely even looked at me since Sombra died. It’s as if he blamed me for it happening. Me!” He incessantly tapped his hoof against his head. “And you know what’s so Goddess-damned funny about it, Symph? You know what really has me laughing my motherfucking flank off?”

He maneuvered his head so that he could whisper in my ear, “He’s right.”

Carbine’s voice cracked, and so did his facade. There was a pony Carbine blamed for Sombra’s death, and it was not me or Doctor Zimri. I could not tell if he had resumed laughing, or if he was crying now.

“I did it. It was me. I killed him, Symph. I killed him when I shot that other fucker in the head.” The bottle levitated away from my throat, and pressed against his. “Isn’t it funny, Symph? I want to avenge my own victim.” He pricked his skin, and blood started to trickle from his neck. Despite the tears in his eyes, he was grinning. “Please, look after Missile. Ole Somby would kill me if anything ever happened to him.”

Now I hit him again, this time in the chest. The bottle hit the floor and rolled away, but Carbine remained on his hooves. He clutched his chest, and hurled. Only divine intervention prevented it from landing on me. Thank you, Holy Mother.

He looked at me, both sorrowful and confused. “I don’t get it. I thought you didn’t like me. For the church. For Sombra. For… -for being me. Why won’t you let me die?” I tried mouthing my response to Carbine, but he just looked more confused. “I’m sorry, Symph; I can’t read lips either.”

So mouthing words was not the ultimate shortcut I hoped it to be. Oh, well. I turned to the other two ponies. Lieutenant Colonel Amasa was no longer holding the gun to Carbine’s head, but it was still in his mouth. I nodded to him, and he holstered his weapon. I then turned to Doctor Zimri, and mimed writing. He nodded, and briefly searched his bags until he recovered a sheet of paper. He passed it to me, and the Lieutenant Colonel tossed me a quill. That was convenient. I scribbled down my thoughts, and handed them to the Doctor. He cleared his throat, and read them aloud.

“I’m your crystal brother, remember? I’ve got your back.”

I felt bad writing that. The use of a contraction aside, I did not view myself as Carbine’s brother after what he did at the church. But this was what he needed to hear right now. If I wanted to have faith in Carbine I needed to put forth some effort.

“Yeah, but what about Missile? My little Bro hates me now.”

I motioned for the paper, scribbled a reply, and returned it to the Doctor.

“You’re still his Bro, Carbine.”

Those five words removed any trace of a grin from Carbine’s face, and replaced it with a smile. It was a small smile, and it was beyond goofy. His lip was drooping, and the corner of his mouth was slightly open. But it was much preferred to the maniacal grin.

“Are we done here, Corporal?”

Yes, yes we were. I nodded.

“Good.” The Lieutenant Colonel turned to face the Doctor with a scowl on his face. “Since he didn’t hurt anypony I’m willing to overlook this incident. I doubt General Omri would want to be bothered with the paperwork anyway. But you need to keep your scouts under control, Doctor. Any further infractions on my base will not be tolerated. Am I clear?”

The Doctor looked almost as bad as Carbine. His glasses had almost fallen off his face, barely dangling off of his left ear. He was sweating furiously, and his body seemed to shrink at the harsh words. He nodded weakly, and squeaked out a, “Yes, sir.”

The officer grunted, and focused his attention on Carbine. “And as for you, Recruit, you’d be well served to learn some discipline. You don’t see any of my soldiers making asses of themselves.”

The Holy Mother begged to differ. As soon as the Lieutenant Colonel finished speaking, a pink unicorn mare flanked by a pair of earth pony stallions stumbled out of the bar. When the trio noticed their commanding officer, they all stopped to salute. One of the earth ponies immediately fell on his face, and the other stumbled about only to join his companion on the ground. Only the mare was able to firmly stand on all four hooves, and give a proper salute.

“Evening, sir. Don’t worry about these two. I’ll see them to their quarters.”

I wondered if the Lieutenant Colonel caught the twinkle in the pink mare’s eye.

He nodded curtly. “As you were, Captain Sureshot. Get these disgraces out of my sight, and put them on flag raising duty with Recruit Sunflower.”

“Sir.” The Captain helped the drunken earth ponies onto their hooves, and guided them towards the barracks.

Once they were out of earshot, he sighed and waved a hoof at Carbine. “You could at least wear your uniform.”

Carbine hopped off of me, and saluted. “Sorry, sir, but wearing a uniform would blow my cover. General’s orders.”

General’s orders? What in the hoof was he talking about? And on that note, why was Carbine considered to be under Doctor Zimri’s command? It seemed it would be a while before I was fully up to speed.

“General’s orders.” The words were like venom in the officer’s mouth. “I suppose it’s not my place to question my superior officers. But that’s no reason for you to not wear your uniform while you’re on base, Recruit.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize, sir. I’ll get right on that, sir.” Carbine was having a little too much fun saying the word sir.

Lieutenant Colonel Amasa rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “Recruits,” he muttered. He glanced at Doctor Zimri, and saluted him. “You and yours are dismissed, Doctor. I don’t know how strict your schedule is, but the choir will be performing for us tomorrow in the church. If time permits I would recommend staying. They have a fantastic soprano if you’re interested.”

The Doctor returned the salute, and smiled grimly. “I appreciate the invitation, sir, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline. I want to get through hostile territory as quickly as possible.”

Hostile territory? And so soon after we had lost one of our own? Maybe it was just me, but this sounded like a horrible idea. I glanced at Carbine to gauge his reaction. To the surprise of nopony he did not seem fazed at all by the news. In fact, he was practically bouncing up and down in pure bliss. It was a bizarre sight to say the least. He caught me looking at him, and extended a hoof towards me. “Bro hoof, my crystal brother?”

I hesitantly started at his hoof. Not one of iota of me was thrilled about hostile territory, so I certainly did not share Carbine’s enthusiasm. But, he had called me his crystal brother. I supposed one bro hoof would not kill me. I returned the gesture, a smile creeping onto my lips.

“Corporal,” the Lieutenant Colonel barked.

I faced him, and the smile melted away. I was not intimidated. I just felt if I were masquerading as a soldier I should be serious when facing my superior officer. And speaking of which, I was asking the Doctor about his plan the first chance I got.

The Lieutenant Colonel gestured towards Carbine and the Doctor. “If General Omri wants them alive then so do I. So I want you to keep an eye on these two for me.” He specifically pointed at Carbine. “Keep this one out of trouble.” Then he moved his hoof to point at the Doctor. “And help this one grow some balls. Lieutenant Colonel’s orders.”

I nodded, and saluted.

“You’re dismissed, soldiers. And may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

“And it you, sir,” Doctor Zimri replied.

While his face was a mask of stone, I could hear the scowl in his voice. The officer seemed not to notice, as he turned his back and trotted towards the barracks. My guess was to check on the drunken recruits. I prayed for their safety.

“’Grow some balls,’ he says. What a jerk,” Doctor Zimri muttered.

“I think he’s right, Doc; you’re kind of a puss,” Carbine chuckled.

“As if,” the Doctor scoffed. “I simply prefer to avoid conflict whenever possible. Life is simpler that wa—.”

He was in the process of taking a step forward when Carbine stepped in front of him. The maroon moron scowled at the Doctor, and lurched forward. Zimri squeaked, like a filly, and fell backwards, but I was able to catch him before he hit the ground. He flashed me a smile, as he adjusted his glasses. I nodded back, and helped him to his hooves. When he was firmly on the ground, he shot a glare at Carbine.

“Oh, you’re glaring at me now? You got something to say, Doc?” Carbine took one step forward, and Zimri took two steps back. “Well, if you’ve got something to say, then I think you should say it to my face.” He leaped forward, and closed the distance between the two of them. Zimri squeaked again, but Carbine grabbed his shoulders and kept him from falling. “Now, Doc, say it to my face.”

The Doctor turned to me, and flicked his eyes at Carbine. I simply shrugged. I did not feel any malice from Carbine, surprisingly, so I figured I would let this play out. If the situation got too dangerous, however, I would not hesitate to intervene.

Carbine used his hoof to tilt Zimri’s face so that the two of them had their eyes locked. “Sorry, Doc, but Symph’s not interested in what you have to say. I am.” He tapped his hoof against Zimri’s forehead, and snickered. “So why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours?”

“You’re an asshole!”

The voice was so shrill that for a second I thought I imagined it. Doctor Zimri’s voice was never gruff, but what I heard was octaves higher than what I would ever expected. Even Missile’s voice did not crack like that.

Doctor Zimri shoved Carbine away, and glared at him. Maybe it was just me, but the way his glasses reflected the waning sunlight looked surprisingly intimidating. “You’re an asshole, Carbine, and I’ve thought that since the moment we met. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have asked for Symphony to calm you down; I would have let Amasa handle you. He probably would have killed you, and good riddance! The Crystal Wasteland would be better off without ponies like you.”

The Doctor began panting. Each breath was deep, and I could see his body growing tenser with each one. His glasses were askew, I was beginning to wonder why he bothered with them at all, but he did not bother to adjust them. His eyes were fully locked on Carbine. I had expected Carbine to be silent and expressionless. Although he had been provoked, I had not expected the Doctor to have an outburst. Especially after he was squeaking only seconds ago. And I could not imagine what it was like being told the world would be better off without you. Especially given Carbine’s recent mental state. Or if not silent and expressionless, I expected Carbine to respond violently.

I clearly did not know my companion.

He clopped his front hooves together, and the maniacal grin was present on his face. “See? Now was that so hard, Doc?”

Zimri tilted his head, and his mouth gaped. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

He took the words right out of my mouth. Though, I supposed they were no longer there to begin with. Ugh, how many expressions would I have to rephrase now with my disability? Losing my voice was bad enough, but my vocabulary was damaged as well? Orchestra, you monster.

Carbine put a hoof on the Doctor’s shoulder. “It’s a tough world out there, Doc. You know that. I mean, fuck, you were there when Sombra died. And according to Symph and Thirteen, there’s at least one more group of those assholes coming after us. And if you can’t even stand up to me when I stand in front of you, then how in the fuck are you gonna survive when they point a gun at you?” Carbine moved his hoof, and lightly punched Doctor Zimri on the shoulder. “So toughen up a bit, Doc. I don’t want to see anypony else get killed.”

He paused for a second before adding, “Eh, actually I don’t mind seeing ponies getting killed. It adds a sense of adventure to everything. I just don’t want it to be part of my crew.” The grin grew larger, and he practically skipped forward. “That’s right, I get to be in charge now that the King is gone. Oh, shit! Look out, Crystal Wasteland, motherfucking Carbine is comin’ to fuck shit up!” Laughing like a psychopath, which in my book he was, he took off towards our residence.

The Doctor and I exchanged a glance. “He’s terrifying,” he stated.

He had no idea. And on second thought, neither did I. Not about Carbine, I had seen enough of him to be properly afraid. But there was something else I needed to know more of. Using the Lieutenant Colonel’s quill, I wrote my question on the same piece of paper.
“Why are you with us, Doctor? If you are a True Cadanite, then why travel with heathens and their comrades?”

Guilt crossed his face, and he hung his head as he trotted along. “I may not like Carbine, but I can admit he’s right about me, Symphony. I’m a coward. I’m not a True Cadanite,” he spat out the name like it was a disease. Or a contraction. “The very idea disgusts me. I’m a doctor; I don’t want to kill anypony.” He raised his head, and titled it towards Carbine. “Even he has a place in this world. Somewhere.”

Somewhere. He did not say it, but I imagined he wanted to add, “Preferably, somewhere far away from me.”

He sighed, and shook his head. “To answer your question, Symphony, it’s so I can hopefully start a new life across the border.” He gestured to the area surrounding us. “The Crystal Wasteland holds too many painful memories.”

Now I was very curious. I wanted to ask him about said memories, but decided against it. If Lyra found out she would likely scold me again for being rude. But Lyra was not the main reason I decided against it. If Doctor Zimri wanted to move on from his past, then who was I to bring it up? That did not stop me from scribbling an entirely unrelated question.

“General’s orders?”

That brought a smirk to his face, and gave me a modest shrug. “I needed to think of an excuse as to why I was travelling with a soldier, a child, and two non-crystal civilians. So I fabricated a story of us being part of a scouting mission commissioned by General Omri.”

“Were you not questioned?” I wrote.

“Of course I was. But the only way to prove me a liar would be to contact the General. And Amasa knows better than to question his superior officer An—”

Our conversation was suspended when we reached the guard station. Recruits Violet and Sunflower were still on duty. The former was still glued to her binoculars, but stopped to salute us as we walked by. Sunflower had resumed leaning back in her chair, but no longer had a magazine to keep her company. Instead, she was holding a picture. She was smiling wistfully at it, as she rocked back and forth. She was in her own little world, blissfully unaware of the harsh realities around her.

Now, Symphony, there is no need to be so melodramatic. I needed to do something to lighten my mood.

I wrote something on the piece of paper, I was starting to run out of room, and tapped on the edge of the station. Recruit Sunflower jolted in surprise, and her chair began to wobble. But this time she was able to keep her balance, although the photograph slipped from her hooves. When she saw me, I received a salute and toothy grin.

“Oh, hey, Corporal. As you can see, I’ve been busy being a good soldier. Just keeping watch, and no contraband whatsoever,” she chuckled.

About that. I held up the paper so she could read my note. “Your magazine was dumped on the road between here and the plaza. You might still be able to find it.”

What could I say? If she was in her own world she should get to enjoy it as long as she could. I would still be in my own if not for Orchestra’s knife. Hopefully Sunflower’s reckoning would be less violent, and, permanently disabling, when it eventually arrived. Besides, somepony was eventually going to find that magazine and keep it. It was only right the owner be given a fair shot of getting it back.

Recruit Sunflower had her hooves around me before I had the chance to react. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Corporal. I don’t know what I’d do without that magazine!”

“Your job for starters,” Recruit Violets grumbled.

Sunflower rolled her eyes. “I do my job just fine with my porn. How many attacks have there been while I’ve been on duty?”

“None, bu—”

“Exactly. I’ve got a perfect record.” She planted a kiss on my cheek, causing my insides to feel warm and fuzzy, before retreating back to her chair. She levitated the photo, and grinned at it. “You better watch out, Sis. I’m only a few more promotions away from being a higher rank than you. Captain Sunflower, and Lieutenant Starfall. Yeah, I like the sound of that. What do you think, Corporal?”

I had started trotting away the instant she said her sister’s name. Starfall’s little sister. Now it all made sense. Her mane was so familiar because I had met her before. She was younger then, and, not nearly as cute, but her mane had always been bright gold. It seemed I was completely justified in wanting to give Sunflower a little extra happiness. Her reckoning was already on its way.

***

I returned to our residence, and found Carbine sprawled on the floor. He was snoring loudly, and there was a puddle of drool next to his head. Anarchy lay in-between his hooves. Even in his sleep he cuddled with it. I stepped over him, careful to avoid his drool, and slumped against the wall.

Lyra had fallen asleep, and was sitting against the wall as she had been earlier. This time she had Missile to keep her company. He was sleeping with his head in her lap. One of her hooves was positioned behind his head, as if she were trying to comfort him. Almost like a mother would.

I placed my hoof over hers, as I rested my body against her. Not too long ago I had thought of Missile as a little brother, but maybe I had looked it at it the wrong way. Perhaps he could become my son, with Lyra as his mother. I felt my face contort at the thought. I was nowhere near ready to have a child, let alone one like Missile. His language was just disgusting. But if he could clean that up I think he could be a good kid.

Suddenly, the colt stirred. He started muttering something, but I could not make out what it was. His body curled up, and his face tightened. I wondered if he were having a nightmare. When was I was his age I had nightmares too. Usually about the Shadow Goddess or the Fallen Angels coming to get me. Every now and then, though, I would hear a tune in my dreams. It was different every time, but it was always played on a flute. And anytime I heard the flute I was able to sleep soundly.

I gently rubbed the back of Missile’s head. Hearing the flute was nice, but what made me feel safe was knowing that my sister was looking after me. Hopefully this would have the same affect on Missile. It was not immediate, but he slowly stopped stirring and resumed his peaceful sleep.

“You’re much better with kids than I am.” Doctor Zimri entered the room, and shut the door behind him with a kick. He trotted towards the cot, and slipped off his saddlebags and glasses. “I would have given him a small dose of Med-X, and called it a day.” He climbed onto the cot, and yawned loudly. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, Symphony. So make sure to get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Doctor’s orders, huh? He was right. I needed to get some rest. As my mind began to drift off to sleep I realized something. I was comfortable here with these ponies. We had all faced our reckonings. Orchestra’s knife, Sombra’s death, and the unknown memories of Doctor Zimri. Despite this, we could still find comfort in each other’s company.

Was this what it meant to be a family? It had nothing to do with blood, or how well two ponies got along. Family was comfort; family was peace. The theory could use a little tweaking, but it was good enough for my tired mind. Maybe I still had a trace of the vulpa venom in my system, but I could swear I heard a flute playing as I drifted off to sleep.

Footnote: Level Up!

New Perk: Silver Tongue. Your tongue is so smooth you could sell dirt to an earth pony. Try it sometime! Speech increased to 50.

Author's Note

Another month, another chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one. While I'll admit the bits with the CDF ponies was basically filler, I thought it was important to show not all CDF ponies are assholes. Also, I thought it was funny.

As always, thanks to Kkat, other authors, and my readers. The Fo:E verse wouldn't be the same without you. And in the case of Kkat, wouldn't exist!

See ya in a month, everypony!

1.5: Adagio

Chapter 1.5, Adagio
“Oh My Gosh! Oh My Gosh! Oh My Gosh! Oh My Gosh!”

Family was comfort; family was peace. Being fully awake, I could now add a corollary to that summation. Family was also wrestling with a wild dog to save another pony. That statement was far more literal than I wanted it to be.

We had left Camp Terminus near sunrise. The idea was to avoid contact with any hostile ponies, such as ghouls or any lurking members of Nero’s cult. But they were not the only ponies we had to fear. The territory beyond Camp Terminus was rarely traveled by the CDF. The good news was that it lent credence to the Doctor’s story, as sending a scouting party would be a generally good decision. The inevitable bad news was the CDF had yet to purify most of the region. There was not much in the way of civilization out here, so we had to be on our guards. This was the real Wasteland.

Our haste to avoid malicious ponies led us to a pack of wild dogs. Although, it was hard to call them a pack when there were only three. There was a bulky black dog, a lithe grey, with a russet dog in the middle. Each dog had mangy fur, particularly the russet one, and were all drooling heavily. The grey dog started panting, and took a step forward. Russet quickly snapped its jaws around Grey’s leg. Grey whimpered, and the other three legs stepped backwards. Russet released Grey’s leg, and snarled heavily before turning to look at us. Russet’s yellow eyes glinted in the moonlight, as he began to circle us.

Black followed him, and Grey limped behind. The dogs kept their eyes on us as their circle steadily grew tighter. Carbine took a step forward, and growled at them. Missile, who had been riding on his Bro’s back, did the same. Lyra and I moved closer together, and stood back to back. Faith slowly levitated out of its holster, and I drew my knife from my saddlebag.

You can do this, Symphony. This is self-defense, and only a dog. You will not have to hurt, or kill, a pony. The Holy Mother will forgive you for your actions. I truly hoped that was true.

“You alright, babe?” Lyra asked in a hushed voice.

I replied with a half-hearted grunt.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I felt a plethora of good feelings as she entwined her tail with mine. “Love you.”

Love you too. Being back to back prevented me from miming or mouthing anything, and grunted my love just seemed silly. So, I stroked the end of her tail with my own. I hoped it was enough to convey my affection for her.

Doctor Zimri’s squeal returned my thoughts to the situation at hoof. The dogs were closer, and Russet had snapped at the Doctor’s hindleg. Doctor Zimri barely evaded the attack, but did fall unceremoniously onto his side. I could swear I saw Russet smirking.

The Doctor’s eyes darted across the dogs, and he crawled backwards until he bumped into Lyra. He chuckled awkwardly at her, as he clopped his hooves together. “I don’t suppose there’s a plan, is there?”

“Oh, come on!” Carbine groaned with a stomp. “Why does nopony ask me for plans?” He muttered something under his breath, and I was certain he used the word "motherfucker" twice.

“Yeah,” she sighed. I heard the familiar spinning of Faith’s chamber. “Don’t miss.”

Click.

All three dogs pounced. Grey’s awkward leap was in the direction of Carbine and Missile, while I could see Black going after Lyra in my peripheral vision. One shot from Tenacity knocked Grey off balance, and sent it skidding into the dirt. Lyra got off three shots before she was tackled to the ground. Due to our tails being connected, I was dragged to the ground with her. I removed my tail from hers, and rolled onto my hooves. I had to get that mongrel off o—Oh. Whatever adrenaline had been pumping through my veins subsided when I saw the entry wounds. Lyra had put a bullet through each eye, and a third between them. Wow. She had either practiced a lot while I was unconscious, or she was incredibly lucky.

I briefly inspected her. She was gritting her teeth and scowling, but I could see no signs of damage. I touched a hoof to her forehead, and then her cheek. No, no fever either. Just a lot of sweat. I doubted a dog landing on her could cause a fever, but I wanted to make sure. The last thing I needed was a sick pony in uncharted territory. Who knew where the closest hospital was?

Lyra touched my hoof with one of hers, and winked. “Aside from having my bones crushed from this guy, I’m fine. I’ve handled tougher brutes than this and made it out okay.”

Before I could react to that I heard a scream. I turned to find Russet gnawing on Doctor Zimri’s hindleg. He tried punching the dog away, but to no avail. Instead, Russet seemed to bite down harder. So I took matters into my own hooves. I rammed my shoulder into Russet, knocking him away from the Doctor. Russet reared on me immediately. He lunged for my throat, and swiped wildly with his front claws.

I twisted my body away from him, and Russet’s jaws snapped shut on empty air. His claws nearly grazed my belly, and only just scratched my cheek. Ow, it stung! But I would rather feel the sting from a scratch than blood in my throat. I could say from experience it was terrible. Before Russet could attack me again, I flicked my head towards him. The edge of my knife’s handle struck him on the nose. He staggered backwards with a whimper, and I tackled him while he was recoiling.

I wrapped my legs around his, and used my weight to pin him. He struggled, and snapped wildly at me. Drool flowed from his mouth, and each snap of his jaws sprayed thick saliva onto me. Why was this a recurring occurrence? Was not getting covered in bodily fluids too much to ask?

Russet continued to struggle out of my hold, but I could feel him starting to weaken. He stopped snapping at the very least. That meant he would be easier to finish off. I swallowed. My grip around the knife tightened. I angled my head so that the knife was positioned directly over Russet’s heart. One quick motion and it would be over. I inched closer, and felt his hot breath on my chest. He was panting heavily, and did not bother struggling anymore. He just stared at me with defeated eyes. He had nothing more to do than to wait for me to the finish the job.

Have Faith.

I dropped the knife back into my bag. The Holy Mother’s words were clear. “Thou shalt not kill.” There was no room for interpretation. No clause for self-defense, or dogs. I nearly violated that sacred law with my plan to kill Telebrah. It was to save Lyra and the others, I knew that. But I do not know if I could have lived with myself afterwards. I felt a smile creeping onto my lips. Perhaps the Wasteland had not hardened my heart as much as I had thought.

The dog’s body jerked as a bullet found its way into his head.

A warm hoof touched my shoulder, and warm lips kissed my scratched cheek. Ouch. “You okay?” Lyra asked.

Barring the light stinging on my face, yes. I nuzzled her hoof, and kissed it. I probably should have been horrified, or at least slightly upset at the dog’s death. I only felt relief. No, the only fact upsetting me was how little chance I had of surviving if anything should happen to my companions.

“Woah, cool scar, Symph!” Missile trotted up to Lyra and I, grinning when he saw my cheek. But when he saw the dead dog his grin faded into a frown. He groaned loudly, and stomped on the ground like his Bro. “Aww, you killed yours too?! Fuck. I was hoping we’d get to at least keep one!”

Language. I felt the urge to scold and ground him. But, alas, I lacked the means to do either since he had finished his newest comic. As Missile stared at the injured dog, I found my eyes searching for Carbine. He was standing beside Grey, and in a pool of dog blood. He was shaking his head. Until he walked by Doctor Zimri. His eyes lit up when he saw the Doctor, and he crouched next to the injured leg.

He whistled, as he grinned. “Now that motherfucker had some teeth on him. I wish I could bite like that.” He poked the wound with a hoof, receiving a grunt of pain from the Doctor. “Come on, Doc, stop being such a puss.”

The Doctor swallowed, and his eyes glowered at Carbine. His lips quivered, and I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. Here I thought I was ill-suited to survive out here. “Fetch me a bandage. I don’t want this to get infected.”

Carbine put a hoof to his ear, and angled his ear towards Zimri. “Wanna run that by me again, Doc?”

Zimri rolled his tear-stained eyes. “Would you please fetch me a bandage?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Heard you loud and clear,” he winked. He unstrapped Zimri’s saddlebag, and poked his head inside. He immediately pulled his head out. A white healing bandage dangled from his mouth.

“Yes, that’s the one! Thank you, Carbine.”

Carbine replied, but, since his mouth was full, I was unable to fully understand what he was saying. I assumed it was something along the lines of, “No problem, Doc.” What I heard, however, was more akin to, “Nuhhh prrahrrem, Dahk.”

The Doctor levitated the bandage out of Carbine’s mouth, and placed it on the injured leg. Using both his hooves and magic he was able to dress his wound. He tied the bandage into a knot, and pulled it tight with his teeth. “Yes, that should do it.” He slowly stood on all four hooves, but I noticed him wincing the entire time.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” Lyra asked.

“Of course, of course. I’m fine.” He waved his injured leg at Lyra. “See?” He placed the leg back onto the ground with only a minor wince. He began to pace in a circle. Each step was slow, and his face had a spasm after each one. There was no denying he was in considerable pain. However, Doctor Zimri was determined to prove to us he could get through it. I assumed Carbine’s disgusting term had motivated him.

Although Doctor Zimri’s efforts were admirable, he was going to slow us down in his current state.

I found my pen and paper in my bag, and wrote down a note. “The Doctor is clearly in pain. We can move faster if one of us carries him on our backs. If we find a suitable shelter we can stop so he can recover. If not, we keep going until fatigue forces us to stop. I, for one, do not want to be slowed down when we might be attacked again.”

Lyra was kind enough to read my words aloud. She looked at the Doctor, her eyes a mix of pity and calculation. “I think he’s right, Doctor.”

He did not argue. He sighed, and adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry for being a burden. Who should I ride with?”

“Not on Bro!” Missile galloped the few paces towards Carbine. He jumped onto his Bro’s back, and defiantly crossed his forelegs. “I’ve called dibs.”

Carbine chuckled, and smirked at the Doctor. “Sorry, Doc, but rules are rules. He called dibs.”

“Not that I wanted to ride with you anyways,” Doctor Zimri muttered.

“Hmm? Say somethin’, Doc?” Carbine asked.

Despite his injured leg, the Doctor managed to literally jump in surprise. He did not get much height, he barely lifted off the ground, but I could give him points for trying. “I was just, um, saying that I should be riding with… Symphony.” He turned to me. “Would you mind terribly if I rode on your back?”

Not terribly¸ but I would mind a little. Carrying a full grown stallion, albeit a scrawny one, could potentially cause leg pain. I looked at my leg. The arrow wound had healed, and I barely felt the soreness. But there was bruising surrounding it. It could support my weight just fine, but I did not like the idea of risking a second injury.

“Nah, he’ll be happy to have you, Doctor.” Lyra walked past him, and brushed her tail against his face. “And if not you can always ride with me,” she purred.

She winked at the Doctor, before swiveling her face towards me. That mischievous twinkle caused her golden eyes to glow. It would have been attractive if it were not so annoying. Speaking of attractive, I noticed where Doctor Zimri’s eyes were fixated. And at the same time I realized Lyra was now wearing her CDF barding.

“Her eyes are up there,” I wrote.

Lyra chuckled, and faced the flushing Zimri with a Carbine-esque grin. “Don’t listen to him, Doctor. He’s just being jealous and clingy.” She fluttered her eyes, and slithered beside him. Her tail found its way around Zimri’s waist, and her hoof gently caressed the side of his face. “But I don’t mind if you ogle me. I personally find staring to be a compliment.”

Zimri tried talking, but everything out of his mouth was a blubbering mess. He stepped away from Lyra, but could not get too far away due to her tail being around him.

“Leaving so soon?” Lyra sounded hurt, but I knew this meant he was in for more teasing. “And I had so much planned too. I guess you don’t have to ride with me, Doctor.” Lyra lowered her rump for the scrawny unicorn, and nickered. “But if you do, I’ll be sure to make it a ride you’ll never forget.”

That was where I drew the line. Teasing was to be expected. A little touching was grudgingly acceptable. Offering an injured companion a ride was only logical. But I would not tolerate all three together. I stomped towards Zimri, hooked my front legs under his body, and heaved him onto my back. He landed with an uncomfortable grunt, but I ignored him and began to trot on. End of conversation.

I could hear Lyra laughing behind me. “Alright you two, let’s get moving before Symphony leaves us behind. Carbine, I want you taking point. With those binoculars you can hopefully find us a good shelter.”

“Shelter?” he scoffed, as he trotted past me. “But we’ve barely walked at all today. Wasn’t the point of waking up early to make progress?”

Lyra sighed, as she caught up with me. She walked past me without even the slightest hint of mischief. “Yes. And under normal circumstances I would love to walk all day before finding a place to hunker down. But one of our companions is injured.”

Now it was Carbine’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, but he’s a total wimp. I bet the injury isn’t even all that bad.”

I cast a glance back at Zimri. He was sitting up, and gently massaging his leg. He did not say anything in response to Carbine, but I had no doubt he heard him. Carbine was not exactly a quiet pony. Even though I was still sore at Zimri for staring at Lyra, I hoped he was not taking the idiot’s words too hard. I considered tapping him on the shoulder, and following it up with an encouraging smile. No, bad idea. Tapping him would only give him a fright. And that kind of reaction would only support Carbine’s sentiment.

“It’s not the injury that concerns me, though,” Lyra retorted. “Symphony can carry him for a while, and I can take over if he gets tired. The problem is we just killed three animals.”

“And why is that bad?” Carbine asked.

There was a gasp, and Carbine was swiftly bopped on the head by his Bro. “Bro, how can you say that? I want a dog. Killing them isn’t cool.”

Carbine winced, rubbed the spot where Missile hit him. He was hit in a spot with a healing bandage, so I assumed it hurt more than usual. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just sayin’ that kinda shit happens. Not anything I’d call a problem.”

Lyra sped up. Once she was a few steps in front of Carbine, she pivoted in front of him. She took a step forward, and thrust one of her hooves towards him. It him right in the chest.

“Ow, that fuckin’ hurt.”

Lyra ignored him, and continued to poke him in the chest. “It is if you leave blood behind. And I seem to remember one dog lying in a pool of blood.”

Carbine gulped, and noticeably looked away from Lyra. I saw Missile whisper something in his ear. It was faint, but I was vaguely sure I heard Missile whisper the word “Busted.”

“Other animals might come to investigate. If they catch our scent, we’ll have pursuers. Shelter would give the Doctor some time to rest, and also weaken our scent trails.” Lyra stepped away, and motioned to the horizon. “So take point. And let us know if you find anything.”

Carbine grumbled some gibberish, while Missile fished through his Bro’s saddlebags. The colt’s face lit up when he found the binoculars, and Carbine took them with a grateful wink. He used his magic to slip them around his neck, and hold them up to his eyes. “Alright, Bro, let’s see which of us can find a place first.”

“But that’s no fair.” Missile leaned forward; I assumed he was trying to take a peek through the binoculars. When he realized it was impossible, he sat on his rump and pouted. “You’re cheating.”

Carbine chuckled, and gently tapped Missile on the back. “First rule of the Crystal Wasteland, Bro, don’t play fair. Play to win.” And with those words of wisdom, he bounded past Lyra.

I would have followed him, but I was awestruck by the sight before me. The sun was beginning to rise. Streaks of gold, crimson, and vermillion were slashing through the sea of black above. Each slash caused the sea of black to bleed in cerulean and azure. Steadily, the colors of the day pushed back against the colors of the night. Even the stars and moon were forced to take refuge. I knew I should not be too overdramatic, but I could not help myself. It was a beautiful sight.

Yet the most stunning image was of Lyra. She stood before me bathed in daylight. She was no longer a pony, but something greater. She was a champion of the light itself. Her eyes matched one of the colors in the sky, while the other two colors served to illuminate her. Even Faith’s holster was shining. It was fitting. All champions needed a weapon. Lyra moved her head, and I could swear I saw a trail of sparkles.

I knew I should be moving. We had shelter to find, potential enemies to evade. Orchestra to outrun. Yet, I was too entranced by Lyra to move from where I stood.

Lyra caught me staring, and for once there was no mischief or teasing. She simply blushed. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She put a hoof on her cheek, as if she were trying to hide it from me.

Ironic. In trying to hide from me, she was showing a side I rarely saw. It was sad. Embarrassed Lyra was simply adorable. I approached her, wrapped a hoof around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. The “I love you” was implied. She returned the kiss on my cheek, and nuzzled my neck.

“Love you too.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

Oh, right. Both of us had forgotten about Doctor Zimri. Lyra offered him a cheerful smile, while I grunted. A perfectly intimate, and innocent, moment ruined. He was lucky I did not make him walk.

“Nothing, Doctor. I was just talking to my shmoopy-doo here.” She accentuated her idiotic, and borderline insulting, nickname by pinching my cheek.

“Ah, young love. It is truly a beautiful thing. I pray the Holy Mother will bless the two of you with a fruitful relationship.”

Funny he should use a word with fruit at its core. Since the use of the word made Lyra’s cheeks turn redder than a fresh apple. “Fruitful, you say? I don’t know if I agree with you there, Doctor.”

“And why not?” I felt him shift on my back. He still kept his injured hoof straight, but his other leg dangled off to my side. He leaned forward, and used the top of my head as a chin rest. He reconsidered that notion after hearing me grunt. “You have your flaws, yes. But I believe the two of you would make great parents.”

Parents. I had only recently begun to consider the possibility of seeing Missile as a son. I had no idea if I would be a good father or not. I did not have much to model myself after. I lost my parents and Uncle in an accident before I was old enough to remember them. There were neighbors who looked after me and helped to keep the house in order. That being said, my sister was the only real family I had growing up. Even then, she was sister and not my parent.

Lyra had remained unusually silent. She would normally say a thank you at the very least. Was something the matter? I kissed her cheek again, but she made no response. Odd. I lightly shoved her with my shoulder. Still, no response. She simply trotted forward. This was uncharted territory. I had seen Lyra in a range of different emotions and moods. Distant was not one I had experienced before. I believed I was authorized to use a drastic measure. What was the trick Joab would use to gain my sister’s attention?

With a swish of my tail, I swatted Lyra’s flanks.

“Ah!” Her eyes widened as she jumped into the air. She looked back at her rump, then looked at me with genuine shock on her face. “Symphony! I’m surprised at you!”

“You were not yourself, Lyra. So I took it upon myself to snap you out of it,” I mouthed, slowly so that she could understand each word.

“Not myself?” she echoed.

“He’s right, Lyra. You were, how should I say, blank? Perhaps you were simply lost in thought?” Doctor Zimri offered.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I was just lost in thought.” Lyra flashed the two of us a fake smile that was nowhere close to reaching her eyes. It barely reached her cheeks.

I wanted to give her a real smile. She was my special somepony, and she deserved to be happy. So, I swatted her backside a second time.

“Okay, okay. I’m happy.” She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the smile on her lips. A real one this time. “Sheesh, Symphony. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were flirting with me.” She paused for a moment, and shook her head. “Nah, not awkward enough for your flirting.”

“Oh, this sounds like a fun story.” Missile, who had been sitting on Carbine’s back, turned to face us. "Bro, can you slow down a bit? I think Thirteen’s gonna tell a funny story about Symph.”

“Damn straight I will.” Carbine cocked his head back to grin at me. “Make sure you speak up, Thirteen. I want to hear this.”

“Well, if you insist.” Her horn glowed, and a similar glow enveloped her throat. “How’s this?” Her magic carried her voice further. It was not so loud that it echoed, glad to know she was showing some restraint, but just enough for all my companions to hear.

I groaned, as Lyra began to weave the tale of our first encounter. This was going to be a long walk.

***

“I swear, I’d never seen a stallion so sweaty before. Right, dear? I forget anything?”

I could feel myself aging as Lyra spoke. Every syllable was a day, and every sentence was a year. By the time Lyra had finished, I had lived a dozen lifetimes. In one I had been a priest, in another a decorated CDF officer. In yet another I had been a dragon. That one was admittedly strange. Particularly my death at the hooves of a zebra Lyra, and a griffon Orchestra. But even being slain by the two ponies I loved most was more enjoyable than listening to Lyra’s story.

I refused to give her the last word. My dignity, and perhaps my dragon-self, would be avenged. I reached behind me, and retrieved my pen and a clean sheet of paper. I could have mouthed my message to her, but this required more effort. Thus, the result was more cathartic.

I glanced at her, and showed what I had written. “You forgot the part where you said yes.”

The Doctor chuckled, and Missile laughed as well. The colt took the liberty of whispering the contents of my note to Carbine, who threw his head back and cackled.

“You actually said yes to this motherfucker, Thirteen? Why?”

To her credit, Lyra showed no signs of embarrassment in her face or mannerisms. She held her head high, and closed her eyes. “Laugh if you must, boys. And you can keep laughing while you spend the night without a warm mare to keep you company.”

Ouch. I felt Doctor Zimri shuffling his hooves against my back. Even Carbine had lost a little spring in his step. Only Missile seemed unfazed by what she said. He merely shrugged, and lay his head against Carbine’s neck.

Lyra opened her eyes, and looked at everypony. She sighed, and the corner of her mouth twitched into an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I guess I turned my conscience off for that one.”

“It’s alright,” Doctor Zimri sighed. “I’ve just been a bit sensitive about romance ever since my wife passed away.”

Lyra immediately stopped walking. It was if she had been struck by something. She even touched her cheek with her mouth agape. “Doctor… I am so sorry. I—”

“It’s alright, Lyra. Truly. You didn’t know.”

She did not seem convinced. I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Thankfully, Missile came to her rescue. He fluttered onto her back, and stared intently at Doctor Zimri.

“Is that why you became a doc, Doc?”

“Yes, actually. I had always been interested in medicine, but it was Abigail’s death that made me obsessed.”

Obsessed was a strong word. Especially considering he admitted to not having many healing spells in his repertoire. That piqued my curiosity, and I stopped for a moment to write something down. “Then how come you do not possess many medical spells?” I doubted I was the only one thinking it. And it would sound less accusing coming from me rather than Carbine.

Doctor Zimri’s expression was a mix between a sad smile, and a grin. “Like I told you all before, I’m just good with chems.” He used his mouth to undo the strap of his saddlebags, and used his magic to place the bags on his lap. He hugged the bags close to his chest, and began to levitate various objects from within.

I recognized the black vial of anti-venom, and noticed there was significantly less now. I was grateful there had been enough to save my life, but the little remaining did worry me. Hopefully we would not need any more in the near future. He had levitated a few syringes with clear liquid within them, which I assumed were Med-X. I could feel my muscles relaxing at the thought. I doubted he would mind if I took—I mentally slapped myself. No, Symphony, you will not develop a drug addiction. There were plenty of ways for me to suffer out here; I did not need to add another.

Despite recognizing the anti-venom and possibly the Med-X, there were plenty chems I was unfamiliar with. One was an inhaler with a rainbow paint job. It was hard to make out, but I could see the cutie mark of one of the Fallen Angels on the inhaler. A multi-colored lightning bolt protruding from the bottom of a cloud. There were two containers of tablets, one on either side of the inhaler. One was labeled “Buck,” and housed a dozen or so yellow-orange tablets. The other tablets were dark yellow with vertical black spots in the center. I assumed they were designed to resemble the eye of a cat, given the label read “Cat-Eye.” Finally, there was the tin floating beside the Buck container. However, I was unable to see any label or what the contents were.

He must have noticed me staring at it, because he popped the top off. Inside were roughly half a dozen white tablets. “These are Mint-als, Symphony. Taking one of these will give you a sharper mind for a limited time. It’s great if you find yourself in a tough situation. But these things are very addictive due to how convenient they are.” He grabbed the top with his mouth, and placed it back on the tin. There was a click as the top returned to the tin. “Not quite a last resort, but close to it.” He touched the edge of the tin with his hoof, and gently guided it into his bags.

“What are those?” Missile asked, pointing a hoof at the syringes.

“These have Med-X in them. It’s an effective painkiller, and can be used for shock. Unfortunately, like most of the chems here, if consumed too often it can cause addiction.” He scooped the syringes in his mouth, and carefully placed them back into the bag. “This,” he tapped the Buck container, and caused it to rattle. “Is Buck. Any guesses as to what it does?”

“Yeah!” Missile sprang onto all fours, and wildly kicked at the air around him. “It makes you stronger, right?”

The Doctor, along with Lyra and I, could not resist a chuckle. “Yes, Missile, exactly! Taking Buck allows anypony to hit harder, react faster, and endure more than they could before. It’s like a Mint-al for your body.”

“Woah.” Missile was staring at the tablet with wide eyes, and a bit of drool hanging from his mouth. “That’s so cool!”

Lyra gently patted the colt on the back. “Sorry, Missile, but that’s too dangerous for you to take. You have to be a certain age to take it.”

“Well, technically—” Doctor Zimri was silenced by the twin glares from Lyra and I. He coughed, and awkwardly put away the Buck container. “Right. Too young.”

“Aww.” Missile dropped onto his belly, all his enthusiasm gone. His eyes moved towards Lyra, and he pouted. “When I’m old enough can I try some, Thirteen? Please?”

She tried her best, she really did. But Missile’s face was as sad as it was mesmerizing. Lyra met his eyes, closed hers, and sighed. But when she opened them, I noticed a familiar twinkle. “Oh, Missile, you don’t need Buck.” She gently tapped the underside of Missile’s legs, getting a giggle out of the colt. “I feel a lot of muscle under there. What do you think, Symphony?”

I leaned in, as if I were actually inspecting his muscles, and touched them with my hoof. And by touch, I mean I tickled him. He laughed so hard that he cried. He rolled onto his back, and swatted at me. One of his hooves light tapped mine, and I feigned a pained grunt. I nodded emphatically towards Lyra.

She winked at me, and smiled at him. “See, Missile, even Symphony agrees. You’re too strong for that.”

Missile blushed a little, but still managed an arrogant smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m too st—”

“But not strong enough for this!” Lyra stopped walking, and managed to stretch her neck far enough to give Missile a raspberry.

Oh, I remembered those. Orchestra used to give them to me all the time when I was a colt. It almost hurt. It never got quite to the point of pain, but it was such an odd tingle. Yet, it was addictive. There was something bizarrely fun about it. Missile seemed to share the same sentiment, as he was laughing again. Without meaning too, I found myself rubbing his head. I was unsure if this was a fatherly action or not, but it felt right.

“You all know about the anti-venom, so I might as well put it away.”

Again with ruining the intimate moments, Doctor. Though I supposed I was not all that angry. I was curious to learn more about his chems.

“Hey, Doc, am I old enough for that one?” Missile was still on his back, I expected his belly would need time to recover from Lyra, and was pointing at the rainbow inhaler.

The Doctor shook his head. The action knocked his glasses askew, but he did not bother fixing them. “I should say not. This is one of my own personal concoctions, Rainboom.”

“Rainboom?” Carbine turned around, and looked at the inhaler through the binoculars. “That’s just rainbow colored Dash.”

Now the Doctor bothered to adjust his glasses, as if he were trying to appear professional. “It’s more than that. While I was not able to work around the addiction, I made the effects last longer without the trouble of hallucinations.”

“So it just slows down time? That’s… -actually pretty motherfucking awesome! Can I try that next time we get into a fight? Please?”

The Doctor smirked, and stowed away the Rainboom. “Not unless it’s serious. I don’t want you wasting my supply.”

Carbine shrugged, and turned around. “Fair enough. But let it be known that I called dibs.”

Missile saluted him. “Dibs acknowledged, Bro. So, what’s that last one?”

The Doctor had his mouth open to answer, but he closed it. He dropped the container into his hooves, and used his mouth to remove the lid. He struggled to gain a good grip on the lid, but he eventually succeeded. Why he neglected to use his magic for that I would never understand. Regardless of his methods, the lid was removed and a black-striped yellow tablet slowly levitated out. “Would you like to find out yourself?”

“What?!”

Lyra vocalized my own reaction. I nearly bucked him off. I would have if Missile did not flutter onto my back. He eyed the tablet the same way he would a Flash! comic. He took it in his own hooves, and gave it a sniff. “Smells kinda like a carrot.”

“Of course. Carrot was one of the core ingredients.” He raised his hooves when he saw how Lyra and I were glaring at him. “Don’t worry, this one isn’t addictive or dangerous. Do you really think I’d offer it to him if it was?”

He had a point. Hurting Missile was not in his best interests. Still, I reserved the right to react when somepony offered drugs to my so—young companion. Especially when he had yet to disclose what it actually did.

But we would find out shortly.

Missile tossed the tablet in the air, and it caught it with his mouth. He threw his hooves in the air in triumph, and swallowed. As soon as he did I saw his face tighten. “Ugh.” Missile stuck out his tongue, and started scraping his front hooves against it. “Eths ith nathty.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I’ve never liked carrots much, so I masked the taste by adding garlic and rosemary.”

Missile cringed, and continued to scrape against his tongue. Was it really that bad? Carrots were far from my favorite vegetable, but garlic and rosemary did not sound bad at all. I briefly considered trying some Cat-Eye to sample the taste. No, bad idea. It may have been safe, but taking a drug without knowing the effects was still an uncomfortable thought.

The Doctor tilted his head so that he was looking into Missile’s eyes. “Hmm. It should be kicking in any moment now.” He waved a hoof in front of Missile’s eyes, and lightly tapped his temples. “Do you feel anything? A tingle?”

“Aside from the nasty taste, I don’t feel much… -wait.” Missile’s body started to waver, almost as if he were drunk. “I feel kinda funny actually.” He closed his eyes tightly, and clutched his temples. “My eyes hurt…”

“All perfectly normal.” Doctor Zimri stowed the Cat-Eye container back in his bags. “But you should be fine in three, two, one…”
“Woah.”

Woah, indeed. Though I was equally disturbed as I was impressed. Missile’s face began to contort, mostly in the area around his eyes. His brow and the lower part of his forehead were squished to make room for his growing eye sockets. The upper part of his cheeks and the edges of his nose were also squished. His eyes were open, and roughly double the size they had been before. They had grown so grotesquely large that part of his sclera had outgrown the enlarged sockets. The vessels in his eyes had grown as well, and were now clearly visible. His sclera were covered with pulsating red vessels that connected to other parts of his eyes.

It was only through sheer force of will that I did not throw up. And even then, I was still heavily considering it.

“I can see so much further now!” Missile scrambled up by neck, and sat atop my head. He leaned down, so that our eyes met. It was uncomfortable to say the least. “Do you mind if I sit on your head, Symph?”

I closed my eyes, and shook my head. I had to close my eyes. Those pulsating blood vessels… Thankfully, when I opened them Missile had moved his head. All I could see was the sky, a shining sun, a few wandering clouds, and Carbine. Oh, and an endless sea of brown. Dirt was much easier to walk through than snow, but I found myself slightly missing it. At least snow was beautiful. True, dirt had the potential to become beautiful. But as it was now? It left much to be desired.

“How are you liking your new eyes, Missile?” the Doctor asked.

“I love ‘em, Doc! These things are awesome. Don’t you think so, Thirteen?”

“Yes, of course. I think they look.” She paused to swallow, and I assume to suppress a shudder. “Fantastic.” She flicked her eyes towards Doctor Zimri, and I noticed a subtle shift in her tone. “I’m just wondering if they’re permanent.”

“Yeah, Doc. Do I get to keep these?”

When he answered, I noticed the Doctor was looking at Lyra rather than Missile. I wondered if he were as disgusted as I with Missile’s new eyes, or if he were only speaking to Lyra to appease her. “No, no. The effects only last for a few hours before your eyes revert to normal.”

I heard the colt sigh. Then I felt a dull pain on my head. Not in, but on. Missile had stomped his hoof on my skull, and it hurt.

“I got it; I can use these bad boys to beat Bro!”

“First rule of the Crystal Wasteland, right?”

I was no longer looking at the ponies behind me, but I could hear the smirk in the Doctor’s words. Of course, it all made sense now. Doctor Zimri disliked Carbine immensely. I doubted being frequently called a “puss” did much in the way of their relationship. Using his own chem to give Missile the edge in the shelter spotting contest would be a personal victory. It would not make him any less of a pushover, but a victory was a victory. And it would be one Carbine would not expect.

Clever stallion.

***

Missile won by a long shot. In a grand total of two minutes, give or take, he had spotted a building in the distance. He was so excited he kept bouncing atop my head. It would have been cute if it had not hurt so much. Carbine took his loss graciously. As in, he only mildly complained. I only heard the word “motherfucker” once. Doctor Zimri had also been gracious in victory. There was no gloating, or passive-aggressive comments. All I heard from him was cheerful whistling.

Judging from where the sun was sitting, we had reached the building in the early afternoon. After Missile had spotted it, our trek had been largely uneventful. We took a short break to eat some of the food Sombra had bought, Carbine and Missile got into an argument of whose farts smelled worse, and the Doctor explained in painstaking detail how he made Cat-Eye and Rainboom.

However, I had a feeling our day was about to become very eventful. It was not a foreboding feeling, surprisingly. But I knew from one look at the building we were going to be busy. Namely, from seeing the word “FLASH!” engraved on the roof. The roof was supported by four columns, all of which stood on an elevated platform. The paint on the columns had begun to chip away, but it seemed that they were pale yellow at their base. Near the top of each column the color changed to blue.

This color scheme was present in the rest of the building as well. The roof was the same shade of blue, while the platform shared a shade of yellow. A color scheme that matched his own, and his name was engraved on the top. My my, somepony was rather narcissistic.

A short flight of steps led to the building’s entrance. Each side of the steps was guarded by a stone statue. Surprisingly, neither of the statues had been pained pale yellow or blue. Both of them were fully brown. The statue on the left was of a small owl. The owl was perched atop a short pillar, and stood with its wings unfurled. There was a plaque below the owl christening it “Owlowicious.”

On the right side of the steps was a griffon statue, christened “Prince Vulture.” The griffon stood on his backlegs, brandishing a morningstar in his front claw. I could not see his eyes due to being obscured by his helmet, but I noticed his mouth was wide open. The claw not holding the morningstar was pointing towards something. My guess was he was shouting a command.

Missile jumped off of my head onto the base of the griffon statue. He quickly scrambled onto the shoulder, and mimicked the pose. “Diiiive!” he shouted. He was trying to look tough, but there was no mistaking the glee on his face.

All of us chuckled, and Lyra went so far as to clap for him. Carbine bounded up the stairs, and paused to ruffle the colt’s mane. Missile tried to swat him away, but Carbine was already at the entrance. He peered through the glass door, and tapped it a few times.

“Hello? Anypony in there?”

Idiot. Now any hostile ponies inside would know about us. If I had to fight I wanted to at least have the element of surprise.

Carbine pressed his ear against the glass. He nodded to himself, but I was unsure if he could hear anything. I certainly could not. I had walked up a few steps, and had retrieved Missile from the griffon’s back. But I made a point to stay away from Carbine right now. The closer I was to him, the closer I was to a possible ambush.

After a few minutes, Carbine took a few steps back. He looked back at us, and tossed his hooves in the air. “I don’t hear anything. Guess it’s safe to go in.”

Or the place was booby trapped. If I were an uncivilized barbarian, I would lace my surroundings with traps. It greatly reduced the risk of personal injury, and would allow me to safely scavenge from the corpses of my enemies. Assuming there were ponies here with the same mindset, I felt a considerable urge to let Carbine enter first.

I flicked my hoof towards him twice, motioning him to go on.

“Your wish is my command, Symph.” He winked at me, as he fired Anarchy.

The door was vaporized. Bullets tore through the glass door as if it were paper. As I walked up the remaining steps, I noticed the glass shards had fallen like snowflakes. Each had a shape unique to itself, and together they blanketed the ground. It was a pretty sight. Not quite beautiful, but definitely pretty. Though I could not help but wonder one simple question.

“Is there any particular reason why you didn’t just open the door?” Doctor Zimri asked.

My thoughts exactly. Not only was this a waste of ammunition, that without a doubt alerted any ponies within the building of our presence, but it also provided us with a new challenge. How were we to traverse a sea of broken glass? Sure, our unicorns could levitate it away. But there was just so much of it. Opening the door would have been far safer, and stealthier.

Carbine just grinned, and roughly patted the Doctor on the shoulder. “It’s all about style, Doc. I totally could’ve just opened the door. But, come on, where’s the fun in that?”

Doctor Zimri winced. With a look of pure disgust, he flicked away Carbine’s hoof. “And how are we supposed to get across? Hmm?”

Carbine raised one of his hooves, and wiggled it. “You got hooves. Just walk across.”

“On broken glass?! Do you have any idea how ridiculous that idea is? You can get cut. You can injure yourself badly. You can get an infection. Then what are you going to do?”

“Not be a puss about it.”

Ouch. Any trace of further argument was drained from Doctor Zimri. The one word I could use to describe his expression was flabbergasted. It seemed to both confuse and appall him that Carbine had so little regard for his own wellbeing. Welcome to the club, Doctor. Still, I was supposed to be Carbine’s crystal brother. The least I could do was try to see his side of the argument.

Or, I could watch as he trotted over broken glass without skipping a beat. Crunch. Crunch. The sound of the glass beneath his hooves was sickening. It was almost like listening to a bone being broken or fractured. A sound I remembered all too well. Drip. Drip. Drip. There was a trail of blood behind him. Each step he took caused blood to drip from the cuts in his hooves. Once he had successfully traversed the broken glass, Carbine stood on a dark purple rug. He wiped his bloody hooves on the rug, and began to look around.

“Woah. This place is pretty fuckin’ sweet. Missile, you need to see this.”

“On my way, Bro!”

Missile hopped off my back before I could grab him. Oh no. I had only ever seen him flutter short distances. The broken glass before us was not all that large, but I was unsure if he would be able to fly over it without being hurt. His wings buzzed loudly as he flew. He was able to get about halfway across without incident. Thank the Holy Mother. At this rate he looked to be okay.

But then he started to fall.

His wings continued to buzz, but he was gradually losing altitude. The back of his hoodie was drenched with sweat, as were his legs. There was no way he was going to make it across. Should I bound across the glass, and grab him before he could fall? No, there were other options available. I had unicorns with me, after all.

Missile was enveloped in a golden glow. His wings relaxed, and he turned around with an embarrassed smile. “Thanks, Thirteen.”

She levitated Missile onto her back, and gave him a stern look. He immediately threw up his hood. Lyra sighed. She used a hoof to remove his hood, and subsequently pat his head. “Just be more careful next time. I can’t always bail you out.” She stepped onto the glass, and slowly made her way towards Carbine.

That meant it was my turn to ferry Doctor Zimri across. Oh joy.

“I can give you a shot of Med-X if you want. It’ll make this less unpleasant.”

Med-X, he said? That was tempting. Very tempting. I doubted he would need to give me much. Thus, there was likely a low chance of me developing an addiction. And it would not exactly be going to waste either. Although, it could be used for more intense scenarios. I for one would much rather have a painkiller for a surgery than walking on glass. But still….

I nodded.

I felt a sharp prick of my skin. Then, bliss. My body felt fantastic. Any traces of soreness were gone. I felt my lips widen in a smile, as I began to trot across the glass. Neigh, I pranced to the other side. I felt Doctor Zimri wrap his front hooves tightly around my neck. But I was far too elated to be bothered by it. With the grace of a swan, I leaped over the remaining glass. When I landed on the carpet, I struck a glorious pose. Oh, yes. My pose was glorious!

Lyra clopped her hooves in applause. I took one of those hooves, and gave it a gentle kiss. She chuckled, but I detected apprehension in her tone as she addressed Doctor Zimri. “What in the world did you give him?”

“Ju… ju…” He cleared his throat. “Just some Med-X. So the glass wouldn’t hurt.”

“Damn, Doc, how much did ya give ‘im?” Carbine asked.

“Slightly less than normal, actually. I believe most of this is placebo.”

“Fuck’s a placebo?”

“Never mind,” Doctor Zimri sighed. He slowly stepped off my back, and walked in front of me. His orange eyes met my green, as he studied my face. “He looks normal. The effects should be wearing off at any moment.” He magically removed his glasses, and rubbed one of the lenses with a hoof. Seemingly satisfied, he turned around and limped towards the rest of the building. “Now, where did that colt run off to?”

The effects wore off a few moments too soon. My body felt heavy again, and the soreness in my leg returned. Funny how I had forgotten about that till now. I felt my smile melt into a frown. Sadly, my face felt more comfortable that way.

“Yo, Symph, you alright?”

I shrugged as I walked past Carbine into the room beyond. Hopefully there was a bed where I could rest my…-My, my. Somepony was rather narcissistic.

The room I was now standing in had a high ceiling. Painted on the ceiling was a mural of Flash Sentry, and Owlowicious. The owl was perched on his shoulder with his wings unfurled, while Flash held an oddly designed pistol in his mouth. His eyes were hard, but possessed a degree of vulnerability to them. From what Starfall had told me that was the appeal of Flash’s character. He was a warrior who fought for future peace. He remembered every life he took, and vowed to not let their deaths be in vain. I found him to be more ironic and idiotic than endearing.

In addition to the mural, there were posters all over the walls. Flash’s face against a light purple background, one of a badly scarred zebra surrounded by black. I found another with the two facing off, Flash with his odd pistol and the zebra wielding a bladed-pole in his mouth. The more of the room I traversed the more memorabilia I discovered. There was a statue of Flash made entirely out of lunchboxes.
Carbine was playing with a flamethrower he took from a wall decorated with weapons. I had conflicting emotions about that. One the one hoof, it was glad to know his skirmish with Telebrah did not make him afraid of fire. On the other, Carbine with a flamethrower was a terrifying prospect.

I noticed one of them was the bladed-pole wielded by the scarred zebra. I even found a cereal box with Flash and Owlowicious on the cover. The name of the cereal? Flash!, Mhmm!

What was all this garbage?

Lyra’s hoof tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed towards two large windows. In front of each window was a large stand. And atop each stand was a glass display case.

In one case resided a replica of Flash’s signature pistol. The gun’s green barrel was significantly more rounded than other pistols, and had a triangle attacked to the end. Flash Sentry’s cutie mark, a shield with a lightning bolt, had been painted on the side of the gun. In addition to the cutie mark, yellow lines had been painted on the side and a strip of metal had been attached to the top of the barrel. My assumption was the gun fired energy rounds of some kind rather than actual bullets. From where I stood I could tell that the green paint on the barrel had faded, and the metallic shine had turned to rust.

The object in the other display case had withstood the test of time much better. Beside Flash’s gun was a comic book. Flash! Savior of the Universe. Final Issue. The cover depicted Flash on his knees, cradling the broken body of Owlowicious. Bodies of fallen ponies and zebras surrounded him. In the bottom right corner I noticed Prince Vulture’s helmet and morningstar. Aside from Flash, and, possibly Owlowicious, there was one other living creature. The scarred zebra loomed behind him. His mouth was twisted in an arrogant smirk, and he held his bladed-pole in his hooves poised to strike.

In-between the two display cases was Missile. He stood clutching a stuffed Flash Sentry toy to his chest. However, his hoof dropped to his sides and the stuffed doll came crashing to the ground. Missile turned to look at Lyra and I. His eyes were bright with wonder, and I could tell he was having trouble restraining his enthusiasm. "Guys!" He pointed to the cases behind him. "It's the last comic! I finally get to see how the story ends!" Without waiting for us to respond, Missile pivoted back around and tackled the comic's platform.

The platform wobbled around before it fell to the ground. I galloped towards Missile, afraid the platform would fall on him. Instead, it fell safely towards the window. Phew. The display case cracked when it hit the ground. Missile tried to force it open, but to no avail. "Ugh, would somepony lend me a hoof?"

"Sure thing, Bro!" Carbine tossed the flamethrower, which was thankfully only a replica, and rushed to Missile's side. "And once you've got your comic, I'm gettin' that gun."

"You do know it's just a model, right?" Lyra asked.

"Pfft." Carbine waved a hoof, which he subsequently smashed onto the display case. "So? It still looks fuckin' sweet!"

I could not find it in my heart to agree. The pistol would have been unappealing even if it had remained pristine. I was no connoisseur of color, but even I could tell that was a tacky shade of green.

Speaking of green, I saw Lyra slink her way towards a staircase. "You boys enjoy your toys. I'm going to check out what's upstairs. Symphony?"

It was said as a question, but it felt more like an order. Not that I had any problem with that. This room was interesting to say th— "FLASH! AAAAHHH! Sav—"

Behind me, Carbine fired Tenacity twice into a monitor. All of a sudden it had come to life with a moving picture of Flash Sentry. It was even given musical accompaniment in the form of a choral ballad. At least, that was what I gathered from the first few notes.

But how did the monitor turn on? Did somepony flip a switch? I raised my hoof to check the ground below me. Sure enough, there was a green switch labeled, "Play." I was rather surprised by what I found. I had expected the switch to be either pale yellow or blue.

Regardless, where was my train headed before that distraction? Ah, yes, I remember. This room was interesting to say the least. However, I was ready to see what else Flash's house, though perhaps it was more of a museum, had to offer. I followed Lyra up the stairs, just as Carbine had smashed the display case enough to remove Missile's new comic. Hopefully it would keep him entertained for a while.

"Oh my Goddess."

Oh my Goddess? Something had to be very wrong for Lyra to have said that. I heard no panic in her tone, so I had no reason to fret. But from the way she stood, paralyzed, I knew there had to be something horrifying waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

Oh yes, there most certainly was.

The only room at the top of the stairs was Flash Sentry's bedroom. Although it would be more accurate to call it a loft due to how small it was. Due to the lack of space there was not much in the bedroom. There was a bed barely large enough for one pony, and it looked like a wall had been torn down to create a closet.

In-between the bed and closet was a desk and chair. The immediate area around the desk was heavily cluttered. Inkwells, quills, letters. There was even a figurine sitting forlornly on the corner of the desk. Normally I would not describe any inanimate object as being forlorn, but I felt I could make an exception in this case. Considering how the figurine was staring at the desiccated remains of Flash Sentry.

At least, I assumed it was Flash Sentry. The skeleton before me did have wings, and did reside in Flash’s room. But, seeing as how it was a skeleton, I could not determine any of Flash’s distinguishing features. Regardless of the corpse’s identity, I was certain of one thing. Missile did not need to see this. Losing his father figure was bad enough; he did not need to see the body of his idol. Still, while I was up here, I supposed I might as well look around. I picked up a letter at random, and began to read.

“Dear Flash Sentry,

Wonderful news, darling! I just looked over the final cut of your film, Glorious Equestria, and might I say that I agree whole-heartedly with that statement. The depiction of the zebras is exactly what we are looking for here at the MI. My stars, that Caesar Xing character is absolutely ghastly. I cannot speak for Pinkie Pie, but I believe the M.o.M. would approve of your film just the same. And before I forget, your performance was fabulous, Flash. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the premiere. And don’t worry, I’ll see to it that Twilight comes as well. It would be my honor to introduce the two of you.

Sincerely,

Rarity

Rarity. Rarity. Why was that name familiar? I could not put my hoof on it, but I had a feeling this was the type of pony I should know. I was drawing complete blanks on the MI and M.o.M. as well. Oh, well. Onto the next letter then.

Dear Flash Sentry,

While I am flattered by your persistence, I regret to inform you my answer is still no. I’m far too busy with my research to even consider being in a relationship. I hope you understand.

From,

Twilight Sparkle

P.S. Thank you for taking such good care of Owlowicious during filming. I’m always happy to see him make some friends.

Twilight Sparkle, huh? I liked her. It was frustrating to encounter yet another familiar name I was unable to place. Yet, I appreciated her letter. It was to the point without sounding too curt. Though I supposed ending a letter with “From” did seem a tad formal. But it could have been worse. If Twilight had been truly annoyed with Flash she could have always ended her letter with, “back off.”

“Hey, look at this.”

Lyra gently lifted Flash’s head with her magic, revealing a piece of paper beneath it. There were blood stains dappling the page. Due to the irregular pattern of the blood, I assumed he had been coughing. I also noticed the lack of a signature. While it was possible his signature had been covered by blood, it was equally possible Flash had died while writing this letter. These were his last words. I wondered what Starfall would have given to read them.

Lyra took the letter before I had a chance to. “To my dearest Twilight Sparkle, I…” She was silent after that. Occasionally she nodded, but she did not say anything more.

I began to tap my hooves against the desk. I did it partly to pass the time while I waited for her to finish, but also partly to remind her of my presence. Usually when a pony says, “look at this” there tends to be more dialogue to follow it. I could admit I found it slightly annoying that Lyra was keeping this all to herself. I at least had a legitimate reason for not reading letters aloud.

“Poor guy.” At last she spoke! Though it seemed more to herself than to me. Lyra carefully folded the paper twice. It was not a perfect square when she had finished, but it was close enough. She titled the figurine ever so slightly off the ground, and slid the letter under it. She looked up at me, and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Symphony, but his last words were for her.”

That sure did not stop you from reading them. I wanted to say it, and I could have mouthed it, but I knew better than to start an argument with Lyra. Besides, it was only Flash Sentry. I could live without knowing his last words. Now the Holy Mother or the Burned Stallion? I would kill to know what they had said before their ascensions.... -figuratively speaking, of course.

“Everypony, get behind cover!” That was Doctor Zimri shouting. Get behind cover? Were we under attack? I rubbed my temples, and withheld a sigh. If this was Carbine’s fault, then so help me Goddess…

I galloped down the staircase, ignoring the dull pain in my leg. Yes, it would have made more sense to stay upstairs with Lyra. There was one entrance which made it easy to defend. And we could use the desk as a form of cover. But Missile was downstairs. I did not doubt Carbine’s ability to take care of him, but having an extra set of hooves could not hurt. Not to mention having a brain capable of strategies other than “shoot.”

I made it to the bottom of the staircase, just as the Doctor reached the top of another at the edge of the room. They must have led to a basement. Funny, how had I not noticed those? The Doctor frantically limped towards me. Beads of sweat dripped from his face, and he kept casting glances behind him. I found the latter especially odd given how he was no longer wearing his glasses. Perhaps he wore them for appearance rather than performance.

“Whoa, Doc? What’s the problem?” Carbine called from the other side of the room.

“Ro… robo…” He paused roughly halfway between the staircases. He placed a hoof on his chest, and breathed deeply. He raised his eyes towards me, and said with a straight face. “Robozebra.”

What.

I could feel the ground shaking, and heard a loud noise come from below. It sounded like an explosion. Crash. Part of the floor crumbled, and a figure zoomed towards the ceiling. It had one of its legs extended, and said leg punched a hole in the ceiling. Right in the face of the Flash Sentry mural. The creature’s head turned, revealing glowing red eyes, and a set of scars on its face. Wait a moment. I recognized those scars. I flicked my gaze towards one of the posters on the hall. Sure enough, it was a match. The figure whose leg was stuck in the ceiling was a robotic Caesar Xing.

This was a joke; surely, this was a joke. There was no conceivable way I was being threatened by a robotic zebra based upon a fictional character. This was too stupid for me to fathom, let alone consider a legitimate threat.

The robozebra’s, it pained me to have to use such a stupid term, sanguine eyes hummed as it moved from pony to pony. Its gaze stopped moving once it noticed Missile. “Warning. Flash Sentry detected. Initiating elimination protocol.”

“That’s not a good sound,” Carbine muttered.

You think? Elimination protocol? I found myself casting glances at my saddlebag to find the handle of my knife.

The front hoof not stuck in the ceiling began to whirr. The hoof slid into the rest of the leg, and was replaced by… -oh sweet Goddess. That was a sword. Caesar Xing pressed his backlegs against the ceiling, and kicked off. The force allowed him to rip his other hoof from the ceiling, as well as rocket towards the ground. Specifically towards Missile.

“Carbine, move!” Lyra shouted.

Not needing to be told twice, Carbine galloped away from the zebra. Caesar Xing’s blade struck through the floor mere seconds later. Again, he was stuck. The only difference was we now considered him a threat. Lyra removed Faith from her holster and fired two shots into his back. Carbine and Missile joined in by spraying bullets with Anarchy and the Uzi. As Savage was uncomfortable to hold, I drew my knife from my bag and stood beside Carbine. If I could not shoot, then I could at least provide a line of defense for Missile. I also used my tail as a brace for Missile, so the recoil would not knock him over.

Despite the barrage of bullets, the robozebra was mostly unaffected. Oil leaked from a few small holes, but Xing paid his wounds no mind. There was a metallic screech as his head twisted around his body. His eyes resumed humming, as he stared at Missile. “Target status: Alive. Scanning for options.” His head slowly turned, as he studied the contents of the room. “Weapon identified. Pathetic Equestrians. You will all bow before the mighty Xing.”

From where I stood it seemed Xing was staring at the replica of his bladed-pole. Perfect. Not only would using a weapon mean he would not get himself stuck, but it also had a phenomenal range. He could kill us from a distance, and I would have next to no chance of defending myself. Regular bullets did little damage, but I believed we had picked up some armor-piercing rounds at Starfall’s camp.

But how could I relay this information to my companions? Lyra had rushed to Doctor Zimri, and was taking him up the stairs to safety. That left me with only one companion who would potentially read my lips, but Missile had hopped off of Carbine. Xing had already removed his hoof from the ground, and was walking towards the pole. I did not have the time to get Missile’s attention, tell him my plan, and alert the others before Xing counterattacked. Nor did I have the time to write my thoughts down.

What else could I do? I could throw my knife, but I doubted I would be able to hit Xing at this distance. I could rush him, and stick the knife in his weak spot. But there were two major holes in that plan. While the pain in my leg was minimal, it was still present. I doubted I could reach him before he grabbed the weapon. Even if I managed to reach Xing in time, I had no clue where his weak spot was. Or if he even had one.

Come on, Symphony, think! There was a way out of this. There was a simple solution. But what was it?

Whatever it was, Xing had retrieved the bladed-pole before I had it figured out. He had replaced the sword with the hoof, and used his front hooves to cradle the weapon. He spun it around his body with little effort. I could not tell if he were testing the weapon, or showing off before killing us.

Xing slammed the blunt edge of his pole on the ground. He threw his head back, and laughed. At least, I assumed it was laughter. The metallic sounds he made were even more disgusting than one of my wet chuckles. “Pathetic Equestrians! Now you will witness the true power of Xing!”

Seems he had been showing off. Great. I survived ghouls, a party of True Cadanites, and my sister's knife just to be killed by a robozebra. Of all the ways for me to die...-wait a moment. That was it! I was not dealing with a zebra. The Caesar Xing before me was, in fact, a robozebra. My encounter with Telebrah taught me we had weapons in our possession that did not work on flesh and blood equines. Perhaps they were designed for robotic enemies.

I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. At the absolute worst, I would die struggling. If Sombra could do it then so could I.
Xing was already approaching us, swinging his weapon above his head. I had a limited amount of time to make my move; I would say about thirty seconds or so. Time to make the most of it. I rushed to Missile, and fished through the pocket of his hoodie.

“Hey, Symph, stop! That, haha, that tickles!”

“Well, everypony, I think Symph finally snapped.” Carbine fired off a few rounds from Anarchy, and one shot from Tenacity.

While Anarchy's bullets bounced off of Xing's metal plating, Tenacity's shot managed to make Xing flinch. It lasted only a brief moment, but it gave me precious time. And in that time I managed to find what I was looking for. I removed my hoof from Missile's pocket, and with it was a metallic apple. This particular apple had a blue band around the top. Since my vision had been blurred at the time, I had not been able to determine what color grenade I had used against Telebrah. I prayed to the Holy Mother it had been blue.

I pulled out the stem with my teeth, and kicked the apple with my front hoof. It struck Xing in the head, and exploded in a shower of electricity. Sparks danced across the robozebra's body, and he began to seize. He stopped spinning the bladed-pole, and it fell from his grip. There was a clang as the blade bounced against his head. I smirked at that, and I heard Missile and Carbine snickering next to me.

Xing's head and shoulders twitched violently. “Warning. Circuit overload. Warning. System failure. Warning. Shut down imminent.” And with those final words, the sanguine glow faded from Xing's eyes. Now he was nothing more than a robotic statue. One that could still wake up as I had no idea how long the grenade’s effects would last.

"This is our cue to go," I scribbled, making sure it was large enough for Lyra and the Doctor to read.

Doctor Zimri had peeked his head above the staircase railing. When he nodded when he noticed my note. “I second that notion. We can find shelter someplace else.”

“Aww, but I wanna stay here!” Missile fluttered onto my back, and looked at me with pleading eyes. Which, given how his eyes were still enlarged and pulsating due to the Cat-Eye, was wholly unnerving. “Please, Symph.”

My eyes shifted to the robot. I did not want to risk Xing waking up, and finding us here. Least of all during our slumber. Besides... my eyes rose to gaze at the top of the staircase. There were things Missile was better off not seeing.

“No, Symphony is right.” Lyra trotted down the stairs with Doctor Zimri on her back. “I don't know about you, but I’d much rather be somewhere else when Xing wakes up from his nap.”

“Eh.” Carbine scratched the back of mane, and grimaced at his Bro. “Even I've gotta agree with them, Bro. That's one tough motherfucker. Even Anarchy's kisses couldn't slow him down.”

“Yeah, but...” Missile's eyes wandered around the memorabilia. Each passing second seemed to make him sadder. “I wanted to check out all the cool stuff.”

“Cool stuff? Bro, you got the last comic and I got Flash's gun! It doesn't get any cooler than that.”

Missile opened his mouth, but closed it immediately. He rubbed the top of his head with a hoof, nodding. “Yeah, I guess you're right, Bro.”

“Of course I'm right.” Carbine turned around, and beat his chest. “I'm motherfucking Carbine, remember?”

“Right. The same 'motherfucker' who thought shooting the door would be a good idea,” Lyra joked as she sauntered past.

“Hey, all in the name of style, Thirteen! I still stand by that decision.” He trotted after her, paused, and turned back to look at me. He flashed me a smile. Not a grin, but an honest to Goddess smile. He mouthed one word to me, and then he ran off after Lyra and the Doctor.

“Huh?” Missile had climbed onto my head, and was now hanging upside down facing me. “What was that all about, Symph?”

Although I knew the answer, I shrugged. Carbine had not said the word aloud so Missile would not hear him. He had a persona to keep up, after all. It might have been the persona of a total moron, but I could respect his decision. Crystal brothers and all that. Besides, Missile was having a good day. There was no need to dampen his mood with talk of the dead.

***

“And that, everypony, is the chemical makeup of Buck.”

“Wow, Doctor. That's certainly, um, impressive.” Lyra locked eyes with me, and titled her head towards the Doctor.

I shook my head. I had carried him to Flash's house; she could carry him now that he was boring.

“Yes, it is.” The Doctor adjusted his glasses proudly, oblivious to the fact that nopony cared.

Missile was sitting on Carbine’s back reading aloud his comic. Simultaneously, Carbine was fiddling with Flash's odd pistol. He kept pointing it at objects, and making shooting noises. He was either convinced he could make it work, or was having an absolute blast with it. Either way, that left Lyra and me in charge of searching for a new shelter. As well as the only ponies listening to Doctor Zimri.

He had offered each of us a dose of Cat-Eye to aid us in our search. Despite his assurances of it being non-addictive, I still turned down his offer. Med-X had felt too good both times I had taken it, and vulpa venom had been a wholly unpleasant experience. I was in no rush to take any chem in the near future. Though I doubted I would turn down a shot of Med-X if offered....

Lyra, on the other hoof, had accepted his offer. Carbine was still walking point, but I suspected Lyra was only in the back due to carrying Doctor Zimri. And I doubted he would be happy about riding with Carbine. Though it did not matter much in the long run. Lyra had still spotted a shelter long before any of us had.

And here it was, a small wooden church. Chunks of the white paint had peeled off, and there were plenty of rotten and broken planks. Still, the building managed to stand. Although it looked like the spire had snapped off some time ago, given the splintered piece of wood on the roof.

My nose wrinkled as I stared at the church. There was a rank odor emitting from the building. It was almost as if somepony had died inside. A church with dead bodies inside. Now where had I seen that before? I shot Carbine a glare. He caught my eye, and immediately looked away. He whistled innocently, as he scratched the back of his mane. Good. If he knew I was still upset with him, then hopefully he would not desecrate this church as well.

I stepped in front of the door, and reached towards it.

“Wait!” Lyra approached the door with a glum look on her face. “Something about this place doesn't feel right.”

“My dear, Lyra, this is a church. It should be fine.” Doctor Zimri touched a rotten plank, and it broke under the force of his hoof. He coughed, and rubbed his hoof against his barding. “Okay, it might not be fine in terms of structural soundness. But, I reiterate, this is a church. I can't think of anyplace safer besides a CDF base. And you are the one who picked it out.”

“Yes, but only because it was the first place I noticed. Now that I'm up close...” Lyra stepped away from the door, and turned around. “I just don't like the feeling I'm getting. Why don't we go find another place?”

I stared at the sky. The azure and cerulean hues had been darkening for a while now. I was also beginning to notice other colors as well. There were hints of purple and dusky pink in the clouds. It was twilight now. For all I knew we could keep walking, and find a perfectly safe place in about ten minutes. But the sun would be setting soon, and I did not want to be in the open after dark. We had already been attacked by dogs this morning. Who knew what was lying in wait to ambush us in the night?

I shook my head. If Lyra was having second thoughts, then I would just have to go in first. I pushed open the door, and it opened with a loud and drawn out creak. I peeked my head inside, just to make sure there was nothing suspicious. Let me see. The floors were just as rotten as the walls, but I could not see or hear anything moving under them. There were rows of pews leading up to an altar, and a pulpit. But I could not see any ponies sitting in the pews, or standing by the altar. So far everything looked normal.

I pushed the door open a little further, and slipped inside. There were still no signs of any traps or hostiles. No, wait a moment. When I had peeked inside, the door had acted as a blind spot. I was now able to see a windowsill, and a broken circular window. I could see a pure white unicorn mare sitting on the windowsill. She looked at me with a pretty pair of blue eyes.

I offered her a smile. She returned it, and even waved at me. Well, that settled it. I doubted this place was dangerous if there was a mare living here by herself. Actually, was she alone? I swept my gaze over the room again. I saw no other ponies, though it was possible they were there. Most churches had backrooms they could be staying in, or they could be sleeping on the pews. An uncomfortable sleep, but I supposed it would be better than sleeping on rotten wood.

I retrieved a piece of paper, and wrote down a question. ”Are you alone?”

The mare shook her head. She pointed in the direction of the altar. “The Father is in the backroom reading scripture.” She then pointed to the pews. “The other two are sleeping.”

Ah, so I had been right. My body ached at the thought, particularly my leg. “And why are you not sleeping in the pews?”

“Common sense. Somepony has to keep watch for potential threats.”

“Am I potential threat?”

She shrugged. “I guess I'll find out by the end of the night. But, you have yet to turn a weapon on me, or signal to your companions to attack me. So far I'd say you check out.”

“Check out?” Lyra chuckled, as she walked in beside me. “And who, may I ask, is checking out my beloved Symphony?”

The white mare's eyes widened. “Symphony?” She cast her blue gaze onto Lyra, and studied her. “Which would make you the....”

“Ah. It seems we have guests. Purity, why didn't you tell me that company had arrived?”

I jumped when I heard the new speaker. The door to the backroom had opened without me noticing. Now, a charcoal stallion stood behind the pulpit. Despite his smile, there was something off about his brown eyes. Particularly as he looked as Lyra. She had been right; there was something slightly off about this place.

“My apologies, Father.” Purity slipped off the windowsill, and trotted towards the altar. “They have only just arrived, so there has been no time to alert you. I also did not wish to disturb you while you were reading scripture.”

The Father nodded politely to her. “I thank you for your consideration, Purity. However, there are some things worth being disturbed over.” He raised his head, and stared back at Lyra. “I always look forward to meeting members of the flock.” He stepped away from the pulpit, and stepped down onto the wooden floor. “Please, we would appreciate it if you would all join us for service.”

“Service? But isn't Sunday,” the Doctor stated.

The Father chuckled lightly. “You are correct, my friend. However, I don't believe we should limit ourselves to worship on certain days. After all, the Holy Mother watches over us every day. It is only fair if we take time out of our days to offer her praise and thanks.”

Doctor Zimri adjusted his glasses, and nodded. “Yes, I do suppose that sounds fair.”

“Well, I'm down for worship or whatever.” Carbine had entered the church, and was pacing along the back wall. “Damn, this place looks like shit, Father. You really let this place go.”

The priest shook his head. Despite Carbine's irreverent comments, the smile never left the priest's face. For some reason, that made me feel even more uneasy. “You misunderstand, my child. This is not my church. My companions and I found it on our journey, and decided to stay the night.”

“Oh, what a coinkydink. That's why we're here.” Carbine trotted over to the pews, and sat down in one. “Since we're here, why not read us a passage, Father? You know, start the service and shit?”

“If you insist.” His horn glowed brown, and he levitated a copy of The Book of Cadance from one of the pews. He licked his lips, as he used his magic to turn the pages. “It's time to wake up, my children. We have guests.”

I did not know what I was expecting, but as the Father began to read his passage I was overcome with dual sensations. Nostalgia, and dread.

Two ponies rose from the pews. One was only a few rows away from Carbine, while the other was much closer to the altar. Both of them I recognized instantly. A familiar blue stallion rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He seemed dazed for a moment, but after a few flicks of his ears he was fully alert. Carbine waved at him, but Joab did not return the gesture. He tensed up, almost as if he were waiting for something. A signal, or an order.

The other pony was a crystal earth pony mare. Her coat was somewhere in-between a dull yellow and a bright gold. She must have been exposed to radiation during her journey. She did not face me immediately, but I still knew what she looked like. She had grey eyes, a slight discoloring on her lower lip, and her right nostril was ever so slightly smaller than her left. On the other side of her face would be a scar, or perhaps a series of stitches, from being hit in the head with a lyre. And on her flanks would be the symbol of a flute.

She turned to look at me when the priest had finished reciting the verse, a kirpan gripped in her mouth. But when our eyes met the blade clattered onto the pew. If there were any sounds going on around me, I did not hear them. If there was any fighting going on, I did not witness it. In that moment, I was only aware of one thing.

“Symphony?!”

Orchestra.

Footnote Level Up:
New Perk Added: Meep, Meep. So, good news and bad news. The good news is all that walking has made you a little lighter on your hooves. The bad news is your hooves have got to hurt. Movement speed increased by 5%.

Quest Perk Added: Packrat. You sure find a lot of interesting stuff. Too bad you can't fit it all in your bags. Oh, wait, you totally can! Carrying Capacity increased by ten pounds.

Author's Note

Alright, everypony. Here's the next chapter, a day early. I know most of the dates on Fimfic for chapters have them listed a day before they're supposed to come out, but I usually release them around midnight. This one I'm releasing early because since I'm starting law school I don't know if I'll have a lot of time to upload it on Monday. So, for future reference, if the last day of a month is on a Monday then you can probably expect chapters a day before.

As always, I want to thank Kkat for creating the world, other authors for keeping it going, and my readers for giving me support. And on that note, Project Horizons finally came to an end on Friday. I know it has a mixed reputation, and for good reason, but I would still like to dedicate this chapter to Horizons. It's had a big impact on the FO:E community, and reading it was what inspired me to start writing my own story. So, Somber, this one's for you. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, and want to thank you for writing a story I know I will never forget.

Ante Up.

1.6: Accelerando

Chapter 1.6 Accelerando
"In the best of all possible worlds, they would just leave us in peace. But they won't."

Silence filled the ramshackle church. The only sounds I heard were the shallow breaths of the ponies around me. While I did not hear it, I could feel my heart beating quickly. With each second it seemed to beat faster. Faster. Faster! But I was unsure as to why. Was I happy to see my sister? Glad to know that my final memory of her would no longer be of her screaming in agony and rage? Or was I feeling my own rage boiling within me. Orchestra had tried to kill Lyra once, and had maimed me in the process. The odds were effectively one hundred percent in favor of this being her True Cadanite hunting party. Perhaps the real reason my heart was beating so quickly was because of an emotion different from joy or anger.

It was because I was afraid of my sister.

A lone gunshot echoed throughout the church. I did not know who fired the shot, or who it was aimed at. Though I did know one thing. The period of silence was over. Before this night was over, somepony was going to die.

I dove behind the pews for cover. Parts of the pews were being blasted apart around me. Again, I was unaware of who was firing the bullets. I should have been paying attention to the battle around me, but how could I? On one side were my friends. No, we may have been more than that by now. I was Carbine’s crystal brother, and possibly even a surrogate father to Missile. I may not have always liked the two of them, but there was no denying we shared a bond. Not to mention that fighting beside them meant fighting beside Lyra. The mare whom I had literally risked my neck for. The mare whom I hoped to make my wife, and start a life with across the border.

Could I really fight against my sister, though? Telebrah and his companions had been nameless enemies to me. Two of them technically still were. This was different. The white mare, Purity I believe her name was, had been relatively friendly towards me. Joab was an old friend of mine, a far cry from the stranger I faced in the convenience store. As for Orchestra… how could I fight my own flesh and blood? I felt my scar beginning to burn, but I ignored it. No. Attacking her for revenge would feel as if I were forsaking everything else about her.

I loved my sister. I loved my Lyra. I drew my knife, uncertain of whom I should use it against. If at all.

A hoof roughly tapped me on the shoulder, as I felt a pony’s tail brush up beside me. I nearly jumped out of my coat. I whipped around, clutching the knife tightly.

Carbine flashed me a friendly grin. “You doing okay, Symphy?”

My immediate reaction was to snort. Symphy. I really hated that nickname. Though, I did follow up my snort with a small smile. His nickname was beyond stupid, but it had managed to take my mind off of things. Even for a brief moment. I was thankful for that. Still, I was unsure of how to answer his question. Regardless of what I did I would be fighting against a pony I loved. I was pretty far from okay.

Ouch! Carbine hit me in the head. I rubbed the injured spot, as my smile melted into a frown. Funny how that seemed to happen around Carbine. I narrowed my eyes at him. What was that for?

“I know this probably sucks major dick for you right now. Ya know, firefight in a church and all that.” He raised his head, and popped off a few rounds from each of his guns. “And for what it’s worth, I’m actually kinda sorry.” He lowered his head so that his whole body was behind cover. He hugged his guns close to him, and cocked Tenacity with his magic. He sighed, and his grin lost some of its usual mania. “I know you’re still pissed at me for what I did at that church. I know Somby would be. And I’ll be honest, I don’t really feel all that bad about it.”

There were a few shots of return fire, which punched holes in the pews. Carbine lay flat on his belly to avoid being struck. One bullet just missed his head, while two others grazed the edges of his tail. He motioned for me to get moving with his hoof, and I obeyed. As the two of crawled forward, he continued talking.

“But just because I don’t feel bad doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong.” He rose from his belly into a crouching position. He looked at his guns for a moment, almost as if he were avoiding my gaze. He closed his eyes, sighed, and then looked at me with a bemused half-smile. “Symphony, I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say exactly. But I think I’m sorry. If not for then, then for doing this now. That make sense?”

I nodded. This outburst of emotion was unexpected to say the least. Not to say I did not appreciate it. I had shown faith in Carbine back at Camp Terminus. Perhaps this was the result. I was still not ready to put the events of Hospitality behind me, but maybe I could find it in my heart to forgive him. Someday.

“Good. Glad to hear it. Er, you know what I mean.” He stood up, and began to fire both of his guns. “And when we get out of this, because of course we fucking will!, I’m so go—” Click. Carbine stopped talking. He looked down at his guns, and tried to fire them again. Click. Click. Click. Click. “Out of ammo? Motherfuck—”

Similar to a few moments ago the pews were struck with a short barrage of bullets. The bullets tore through the wood like termites. Pieces of shrapnel exploded towards us in a dusty haze. I closed my eyes, and covered my face with my front hooves. I felt a few pieces cut me, but nothing too serious. Luckily, none of the bullets had touched me either. Then I lowered my hooves and opened my eyes to check on Carbine.

He stood tall despite his wounds. I saw one wound in his shoulder, and another in his side. Blood dripped from his wounds, and some even trickled from his mouth. Slowly, he turned his head towards me. The left side of his face had been damaged by shrapnel. His ear was nicked, and his cheek had a few scratches. As for his eye, what eye? A large splinter had lodged itself in Carbine’s left eye socket. His right eye blinked a few times, and I could not help but wonder if his left eye was trying the same.

He chuckled weakly, so very weakly, and a maniacal grin found its way onto his face. “—er,” he coughed.

Carbine collapsed onto his right side. His hooves and twitched, but other than that I saw no signs of life. If he was breathing, his breaths were too shallow for me to hear or observe. I could check him; I should check him. But what if my instincts were right? What if Carbine was gone? As long as I didn’t confirm his death then he was still alive. I did not want him to die; I didn’t! Certainly not by ‘Chestra, or her friends. This wasn’t my fault. But I couldn’t deny my involvement. They were here because of me. Carbine was injured, most likely dead, because of them. He was right. This did suck major dick.

“Bro!”

Oh Goddess, no. Tell me he didn’t see. Please, tell me he didn’t see. I watched as Missile fluttered towards us. Not, not us. Towards his fallen Bro. How long had it been since Sombra died? Four days? Why did he have to go through this again so soon? Holy Mother, I believe that you love all your children but I don’t understand why you would do this to a child.

I stepped towards Carbine’s motionless body. Yes, motionless body. It wasn’t yet a lifeless one. I didn’t know how I would try to comfort Missile when he reached the body. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to hold him silently. It had worked before when Sombra died. Maybe now it could work with Carbine’s injury.

Missile never made it to the body. As he fluttered towards us, he was struck by a spell. The priest fired a thin beam of energy at Missile, which struck his wings. It burned a hole through both of them, and sent him skidding to the ground. Missile raised his head, tears in his eyes, as he reached out towards me.

“Symph!” he called.

The next sound I heard was the shooting of a rifle. And the next sight I saw was a hollow point round shattering Missile’s eye. His body went limp immediately. His head slumped to the ground, resting between his front hooves. This… this was wrong. I had watched Sombra die, but it was different. He had died with dignity. The battle had already been won when he left us. He had enough time to give us each a goodbye. Missile didn’t even have time to finish the last comic! NO! This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I dropped the knife, and tried to walk towards Missile. But a pair of hooves kept me in place.

“It’s alright, little brother. Sis has got you. And I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

What in the Holy Mother’s name was she talking about? I wasn’t being hurt. My friends were. Carbine was badly injured, Missile was dead! I hadn’t heard a peep out of Doctor Zimri, but I spotted him cowering behind a set of pews as I had. Where was Lyra? Where was Lyra! I had to find Lyra!

“Get away from him you cunt!” A mint-green unicorn mare galloped towards me. Her golden eyes were narrow and vicious. Her previously well-kept white mane was disheveled and knotted. Even her mouth was snarling so violently she looked more like a monster than a pony. Yes, that was exactly correct. This was not Lyra. This was a demon who had taken the form of Lyra Heartstrings XIII for the sole purpose of saving me from Orchestra.

May the Goddess have mercy upon my sister, because Lyra would show her none.

“Symphony, take cover,” Orchestra whispered in my ear.

She pushed me away from the galloping demon, and met her head on. Orchestra hooked her front hooves around Lyra’s neck. Immediately after, Orchestra shifted her weight onto her backlegs, and pivoted. Using Lyra’s momentum against her, Orchestra tossed Lyra aside. Lyra landed on her side, but managed to roll onto her hooves. She drew Faith from its holster, and rapidly squeezed the trigger. As she did so, a horrible thought appeared in my mind. Three shots in the black dog, one in Russet, and two in Caesar Xing. And I never saw Lyra reload.

Click. Click. Click.

Lyra swore loudly, and holstered Faith. She had no time to reload. Orchestra had hopped over the pews after she had thrown Lyra. She had likely anticipated Lyra would shoot. Now that she knew Lyra was out of ammunition, she could try closing the gap with her kirpan. Lyra had known this, and decided taking time to load Faith was risky. Instead, the golden lyre was quickly levitated out of her bag.

Now it was Orchestra’s turn to appear possessed. As she leapt towards Lyra, my sister looked almost feral. From the way she held her kirpan, in addition to the blade’s large curve, Orchestra seemed to have an enlarged fang. If anything, Orchestra seemed more demonic than Lyra. May the Holy Mother have mercy upon Lyra’s soul, because Orchestra would have none.

Wait, whose side was I on? I… I didn’t know. I didn’t want either of them to die. I couldn’t let either of them die. Not like Missile, not like Carbine! I was the only pony who could stop this. I had done it once before, and all it had cost me was my voice. My cutie mark. My dream.
It was a fair price to pay for their lives.

I tried to move towards them, but was unable. I continued to move my hooves, but found myself floating in place. Wait a moment. Floating? I gazed downward, and noticed I was floating slightly off the ground. Upon closer inspection, I also noticed my body was enveloped in a blue aura. This was a magic aura I had not seen before, which meant it was none of my companion’s or Joab’s. I had seen the priest’s color when he levitated a book earlier. It had been brown. Therefore, this magic could only belong to Purity.

I heard her hoofsteps behind me, as she slowly approached. Our eyes met, yet she did not flinch upon my glare. She simply switched her gaze to the dueling mares. “I’m sorry, but I cannot let you interfere, Symphony. For her sake.”

I continued to struggle, but my efforts were gradually growing weaker. I was exhausted. Today had been a long day. Topping that off with witnessing Carbine, and Missile… -I was too fatigued to continue resisting Purity. Instead, I performed the only task I could. I watched the two mares I loved most attempt to kill each other.

Kirpan met lyre, again and again. The two mares clashed with each other, but neither seemed to be gaining an advantage. From where I was standing—er floating, it almost seemed as if they were aiming for the weapons rather than each other. That would explain their stalemate. Almost as if she were trying to disprove my theory, Lyra aimed for the bottom of Orchestra’s chin. My sister groaned, and landed on her back. Lyra held the lyre above her head, and slammed it down. Orchestra rolled away just as the lyre smashed the rotten wood below. Before Lyra could ready herself, ‘Chestra rammed the kirpan into her side. Lyra bit her lip, but I could see the pain in her eyes.

I heard my sister snicker around her weapon. “That was for my face, harlot.” She ripped the kirpan out of Lyra, and used the blunt end to block an oncoming strike from Lyra’s hoof. ‘Chestra opened her mouth, and used her tongue to spin the kirpan. She closed her mouth around the handle, and slashed the bottom of Lyra’s hoof. ‘Chestra’s momentum led her towards the ground, but she placed her front hooves in front of her to catch herself. Without even looking Orchestra bucked her back legs, and connected with Lyra’s horn.

I watched in horror as Lyra clutched her horn, screaming. It did not break, thank the Holy Mother for that, but I noticed a definite crack at the base. I was not wholly familiar with how magic worked, but I was quite sure a cracked horn significantly weakened Lyra’s ability to use magic. If not outright nullifying it. She had no bullets, no magic, and was already wounded. Not long ago I had watched Orchestra try to kill her. Would I now watch her finish the job? I struggled again in Purity’s hold, but was still unable to break free. Please, Holy Mother, do something! Take something else from me. Take my legs, my mind, my life! Please, I can’t lose her too…

Orchestra laughed again. “How does it feel, harlot? How does it feel to know that you won’t lay another hoof on my brother?” Orchestra turned her head towards me, disgust in her eyes. “Seriously, Symphony. You can do so much better than that.”

“’Chestra, look out!” Joab cried.

“Huh?” She returned to face Lyra just in time for a spin kick to connect with the side of her head. The same side with the stitches.

Orchestra screamed, and dropped her kirpan. It wasn’t nearly as bloodcurdling as the last time, but it still sounded so wrong coming from her. Her legs buckled beneath her, and clutched her head with a hoof. Lyra took this opportunity to pounce. She pinned Orchestra, and smashed her head into my sister’s.

“How does this feel, bitch?” Lyra head butted again. When she raised her head, I noticed the crack on her horn had grown slightly. “How does it feel to get your ass beat a second time?” Before Orchestra could say anything, Lyra punched her across the face with her bleeding hoof. “How does it feel to know that you nearly killed your own brother?” She punched the other side of Orchestra’s face. “You maimed him. Took away his voice. And you think killing me will make all of that go away?” Two more punches, followed by another head butt, and the crack on her horn grew ever larger.

This was horrible. As happy as I was to see Lyra alive, it pained me to see her beating my sister. I was unable to see Orchestra’s face, and I was glad for it. I didn’t want to imagine the hurt in her eyes. If this continued then she would lose. Once again, she would be forced to watch her enemy leave with her beloved brother. And, yes, I did intend on leaving with Lyra, but I didn’t want to hurt my sister either. I closed my eyes, and turned away. I couldn’t watch this. Not anymore.

“Where’s your Goddess now, Orchestra? Where’s your Holy Mother when yo—”

“That’s quite enough.”

There was a sound. I was unsure of how to describe it. It was quite, and eerie. Yet, I heard it echo sharply throughout the rickety church. The sound was quickly followed by a familiar one. The sound of an object clattering onto the floor. There was a brief silence, followed by the sound of a flame coming to life. That wasn’t a good sound.

I opened my eyes.

Tears streamed down Lyra’s cheeks. Her face twitched, and I could hear her sputtered breaths. Whether it was a result of the pain or the shock, I was unsure. Her bleeding hoof was pressed against her horn. Or, what remained of her horn. The rest of her horn, the majority of it, rolled on the ground beside her. Lyra stared at the priest, who took his time trotting towards her. A lit match levitating beside him.

“My deepest apologies, Orchestra. I know you wanted to handle this one on your own. But I cannot stand idly by and watch one of my children be insulted. Let alone the Holy Mother.” He had reached Lyra. Any trace of the friendly smile was completely gone at this point. Instead, his face was decorated with a baleful frown. He pushed Lyra off of Orchestra, and helped my sister to her hooves. “For your sake, Orchestra, it will be a pleasure to watch her burn.”

‘Chestra bowed her head, and placed a hoof over her heart. “Thank you, Father. But, if I may be so bold, may I be the one to burn this heathen?”

Now the smile returned to his face. It sent a chill down my spine. “Of course, my child.”

The match levitated towards Orchestra, and my sister took it in her mouth. She bowed once more, and returned her focus to Lyra. Lyra had still not recovered from the shock of losing her horn. I saw her muttering to herself, but was unable to hear what she was saying. She made no effort resist as Orchestra turned her over. My sister placed one of her front hooves on Lyra’s chest, and sneered down at her.

“Any last words?”

Lyra for the last time, and my final memory would be of her burning. But then her eyes found me. And all of a sudden I noticed a mischievous twinkle. Something I never thought I would be happy to see.

“As if there could ever be something hotter than my flank.”

Orchestra’s face scrunched up in confusion. It was slight hesitation, but it was enough. Lyra inhaled deeply, and let out a powerful breath. The match went out. Lyra followed her action by standing, and knocked Orchestra off balance. My sister staggered backwards, giving Lyra enough time to retrieve her horn. She held it in her mouth, similar to how Orchestra held her kirpan. Orchestra noticed this, and glowered. She spat out the match, and picked the kirpan from off the ground.

“Father, permission to kill her without fire,” she asked without taking her eyes off of Lyra.

The priest sighed. “Yes, my child. I will allow it. After all, Joab killed the child without any fire.” There was an edge to his voice as he said that. I may have imagined it, but I was sure I saw Joab flinch in my peripheral vision.

“Thank you, Father. I promise, this time I—”

“FLASH!”

All heads turned towards the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway was a vaguely familiar pony. His body was well-muscled, and the veins in his legs were clearly visible. Similar to his overly large legs, his eyes were enlarged. Almost as if he had taken Cat-Eye. No, it was impossible. This pony was too large. Yet, it made sense. He had a white coat, a messy brown mane, and orange eyes. There was no mistaking it. This was Doctor Zimri.

He raised his hoof, and stomped on an empty syringe next to him. The syringe was crushed into smithereens, and the veins in his legs pulsated at the action. Ah, that was it. He had injected himself with a substance. Likely Buck. Wait, but I thought Buck was a tablet. Why would he inject himself with a tablet? And why was there a pin levitating next to him?

He pointed to something in the air above us. I titled my head back, and observed. A cylindrical canister flew through the air towards us. The bottom part was painted pale yellow, while the top was blue. Ah. That explained the pin.

A smirk appeared on Lyra’s face. She closed her eyes, and covered her ears with her hooves. Her horn fell from her mouth, as she said one word. “Bang.”

***

I was not familiar with flash bangs, so I had not closed my eyes or plugged my ears. I had expected the canister to be full of a gas, which would have hopefully knocked out Orchestra and her companions. Or, if it had been an explosive, the Doctor would have thrown it in a precise spot where neither Lyra or I would be hurt. What actually happened was my senses were brutally assaulted. The sensory overload, coupled with my physical and emotional fatigue, had rendered me unconscious. When I came to, I was lying on one of the pews. Thankfully, one which had not been splintered. Yet, I found myself still able to complain. These were as uncomfortable as ever.

I raised my head, and briefly observed my surroundings. There were no signs of my companions. Any of them. The bodies of Missile and Carbine had been removed. I prayed they had been taken by Lyra and the Doctor. If there was any possibility that Carbine was still alive, then maybe Doctor Zimri had a chance at saving him. If not, then at least they would be buried with the respect they deserved. Something they would not receive here. Ironic, given that I was in a church.

I rubbed my head. How long had I been out? Moonlight streamed through the windows and holes in the roof. We had come to the church at twilight, so I had not been out long. Maybe I had not been asleep long enough to dream. I was thankful for that. Given the absurd scenario my mind had conjured up when I was poisoned, I dreaded to consider what guilt could create. I shook my head. No, it happened was not my fault. It was theirs.

Orchestra’s companions sat in the lane between the pews. They were sitting in a triangle. The priest sat at the tip of the triangle, while Joab and Purity sat across from each other. There was something eerily familiar about the way they were sitting. This was how Lyra, Carbine, and Sombra had been sitting when I had woken up in the convenience store. Joab even had his rifle resting against his shoulder, just like Anarchy. The only pony missing was Missile sleeping on Carbine’s lap. Oh, and Orchestra.

Actually, where was she? I had not seen her in my brief sweep of the area. Then again, I had neglected to look behind me. I glanced behind me, and stared into my sister’s grey glare. Her front hooves were crossed, and I could hear tapping her back hooves on the creaky wood. This was a familiar scene from my childhood. Whenever ‘Chestra was angry with me she would cross her hooves, and start tapping. Usually she would keep this up for a few minutes without saying anything. Even now as an adult her glare sent chills up my spine.

“You’re a jerk, Symphony.”

O-kay. I was unsure of where was this conversation was going. She spoke up much quicker than usual, but she called me a jerk. So, was she mad?

Before I could decide if I should be wary of my sister or not, she hugged me. It was more than a little awkward, given that the pews in-between us were digging into my chest, but it was nice. Really nice. For the past few days I had been wondering what I was supposed to think of Orchestra. Was she the monster who had maimed me, or the sister who loved me? When I saw her earlier I had found my answer. As she hugged me I could feel any remaining shadows of doubt fading away.

This was my sister, and I would always love her.

I nearly returned the hug, but she pushed me away before I had the chance to return it. Her glare had softened, but it was still there. She was no longer crossing her hooves. It was almost a plus, except she was now using them to slap me. I personally preferred the crossing. “You’re alive! You’re alive, and you didn’t tell me.” The left half of her face scrunched up. “You made your big sister worry for nothing.”

Now that I had a reply for. I did not see my bag around me, so I mouthed my one word response. “Whoops.” I even added a shrug for extra apology.

Now the right half of her face scrunched up too. She raised another hoof. I closed my eyes, and braced myself for the oncoming assault… -that did not come. I opened one eye to see a brown glow around her hoof.

“Forgive me, Orchestra. I know I shouldn’t interfere with family matters, but perhaps you should offer your brother a meal before you discipline him further. I'm sure he would appreciate one."

I recognized that voice. I turned back around. The priest smiled at me, and even offered a friendly wink. I forced a smile in return. This was the pony who had hurt Missile, and severed Lyra’s horn. I knew it would be safer to play along than to rebuke him, but I wanted to. I really wanted to.

The glow disappeared, and Orchestra gently rubbed her hoof. I heard her mumble something about “stupid unicorn magic,” as we approached the group. Orchestra sat in-between Purity and Joab. When the blue stallion saw me approach, he tapped his hoof against the space next to him. I pretended not to notice, and sat on the side with Purity. Joab was just as guilty as the priest, if not more so. He was the one who actually killed Missile. I barely had an appetite as it was. There was no way I could stomach anything if I sat next to him.

Joab sulked, and sighed loudly. “Rude as ever I see.” Orchestra punched him on the shoulder for that.

“I don’t think he’s rude at all.” Purity cupped a steaming thermos in her hooves, and took a long sip. She passed it to me with a smile. “It’s only common sense he’d sit next to a mare.”

I had been drinking when she added the second remark. Hot water. Her comment caught me by surprise, and my reaction was to gulp. Steaming liquid gushed down my throat, burning it from the inside. I tried to ignore the pain by focusing on what she had said. I took a good look at her. She was right; she was most definitely a mare. She had a pretty face, a nice mane, and gorgeous blue eyes. They could rival Lyra’s in terms of beauty. My eyes slowly made their way down to her flank. To discover her cutie mark, of course. It happened to be a spyglass. What I would give to have a spyglass right no—ugh. I had been around Carbine too long.

She chuckled lightly. “Well, you and your sister are certainly alike.”

I could feel my cheeks burning, and I saw my sister’s do the same. I tore my eyes away from Purity, with admittedly quite a bit of effort, and passed the thermos to my sister. She took it, and immediately passed it to Joab. Oh, seems she was not thirsty. Joab took a large gulp, and passed it to the priest, who packed it in a satchel.

He stared into the contents of his satchel with a furrowed brow. “Hmmm. What to choose, what to choose. Ah.” He faced me, smiling that same friendly smile. The same smile that made me incredibly uncomfortable. “Symphony. As our guest of honor, why don’t you decide our main course for the evening. We have daisy and cucumber sandwiches, topped with a hint of rosemary, and drizzled with roasted almonds. Or, quesadillas stuffed with cherry.”

Quesadillas? I hated those things. There was so much cheese…-the sandwiches sounded quite good though. I held up one hoof to signify the first option.

“Splendid choice.” Five plastic bags with sandwiches and napkins levitated out of the satchel, and into our laps. “Now, let us close our eyes and bow our heads.”

Everypony did so, while also holding hooves. I had been so long since I had said grace in a group that this ritual seemed almost foreign to me. Wow. I really had spent too much time with Carbine. I held hooves with Orchestra and Purity, and could not help but notice the latter’s hooves were unusually cold.

“Holy Mother, we thank you for this food, and pray you will bless it to our bodies. That it will give us the strength to do your work and will. And we also pray for those less fortunate, and pray you will watch over them as you do us.”

“Amen,” Joab muttered.

“Also, we thank you for Symphony. We thank you for keeping him safe in the clutches of the enemy, and for returning him to us unharmed. It is a true miracle that only you can provide. And we pray that his time away did not turn his heart against you, and your holy name. And in that name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” the others echoed.

I did not. Not even in my thoughts. When I opened my eyes I noticed a glint in the priest’s. There was a crack in his friendly façade. What had he said, “clutches of the enemy?” No doubt they believed I was kidnapped, or at least Orchestra had said so while I was unconscious. He did not believe it, though. Somehow he knew that I had willingly gone with Lyra. That had not been a prayer; it had been a warning. I was only alive right now for Orchestra’s sake. If I showed any indication of how I thoroughly despised the True Cadanites, my sister notwithstanding, there would be Tartarus to pay. The most likely price being my life.

He turned to face Orchestra, and the glint disappeared. “I’m truly happy you have been able to find your brother. Perhaps it's not too late for me to find mine." He sighed sadly, but regained his composure as he continued. "And now that he’s here, I think it would be best for you to have some time alone.”

“No, that’s no—”

“Nonsense, my child.” He waved a hoof, and shook his head. “Joab and Purity can join me in the backroom for supper. Please, enjoy your time together.” He picked up his sandwich bag in his mouth and satchel with his magic, and stood up. He dipped his head politely, and made his way to the backroom.

The other two followed suit. Joab retained his sulky expression, and even slouched as he walked. When our eyes, unfortunately, met he flashed me a wry smile and waved. I managed to return his wave without glaring at him. It was not an enthusiastic wave, but it was good enough for Joab. Hopefully it was also enough to not arouse anypony’s suspicions.

In contrast, Purity walked with elegance and fantastic posture. She caught me star—admiring her grace, and smiled at me. I did not return her smile; I was too busy averting my shameful eyes.

I was a little sad she had to go, but I did enjoy watching her leave. Oh no. I was getting worse by the second. I half-expected Orchestra to tease me, but then I remembered she was not Lyra. Also, she was too busy watching Purity leave to say anything. That left it up to me to break the ice. I waited till Purity and Joab had disappeared behind the door to tap my sister on the shoulder.

“Hmm?”

I pointed to her, batted my eyes, and then pointed to the door. In the process, I discovered a new shade of red on my sister’s face.

“Nnnnno. Purity’s my friend. That’s it.”

Just like Joab?

“No, I don’t like him either!” She roughly shoved me onto my side. “Especially not him.”

She knew what I was thinking without me even having to communicate it. This was my big sister for sure. I simply grinned at her, and removed the sandwich from the bag. She rolled her eyes at me, and began muttering something about her “stupid baby brother.” But aside from ‘Chestra’s mumbling we ate our supper in silence. It was a strange silence. I could not call it comfortable, but not yet awkward. I had the impression both of us wanted to speak, but were unsure of what to actually say. Light teasing can only carry a conversation so far. Though I supposed it was possible we were simply silent because we were eating. To the priest’s credit, this was a good sandwich. The roasted almonds sold it.

“Hey, Symph?”

I took one last bite out of the sandwich, and raised my head. Orchestra was staring at the ground. Her hooves were tapping again, but the rhythm was different. Her pace was far less aggressive, almost melancholic.

“This is real, right? I mean.” She bit her lower lip, and angled her eyes towards me. “You’re really here? I’m not dreaming again?”

My first response was to write down a joke. “I can pinch you if you want.” Chuckle worthy, and would hopefully be able to put a smile back on my sister’s face. Then I saw it on her face. Something that I knew could answer her question better than any joke could. I picked up a napkin, and gently dabbed some cucumber off the corner of her mouth. There. Did that answer her question?

Half of her face scrunched up, as she smacked my hoof away. “I could’ve gotten that myself. Thank you very much,” she huffed. She crossed her front hooves, and turned her head away with a “hmph.”

You are very welcome.

There was another bout of silence, but it was certainly not awkward. Rather, it was more of an understanding. Three… two… one…

The two of us broke out in laughter. There was just something inherently funny about Orchestra’s indignation. I placed a hoof on her head, and ruffled the top of her mane.

“Hey, cut it out.” She elbowed me in the gut. I retracted my hoof, with a grunt. She snickered, and ruffled my mane. “You might be a bit bigger than me, but I’m still older. That gives me certain privileges.”

Like slitting your little brother’s throat?

I winced at my own harsh words. I would have loved to blame them on a random aggressive thought, but that would be a lie. Being reunited with my sister felt great. I was happy to know she was doing well. No matter what, I would always love her. That being said, she did maim me. I had every right to be bitter about it. She and I could work through this, and I was still happy to spend time with her now. But I supposed I was still not ready to fully forgive her. So much for eliminating any shadows of doubt.

So, with all that being said, she picked the worst possible moment to touch my scar.

I rounded on Orchestra, and slapped away her hoof with more force than intended. I glared at her, and began to breathe heavily. She did not flinch, though I did notice her rubbing her wrist. The bitter part of me was gloating about me injuring my sister. Even if it was incredibly minor. The rest of me called him a jerk and other more colorful synonyms. My glare gradually eased until there was no animosity. I placed a hoof on my chest, and made a circle.

“Um, are you having indigestion?”

Indigestion? Is that wh—ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I began to laugh on the outside as well. It was just so funny. So much so that I barely noticed the disgusting noise I was making. The last time I had done this gesture Missile thought I was trying to say I had heartburn. It was funny, absolutely hilarious. Orchestra and her companions hated non-crystal ponies and their affiliates. These so called “heathens.” But other than texture and an immunity to radiation, what was the difference? There was none! My sister’s whole crusade was completely pointless. I had lost my throat, Carbine likely lost his eye, and Missile had lost his life because of this joke. Not just Missile, but Sombra too. It was so absurd it was funny.

So funny I was crying. There was no laughter anymore. Just the tears splashing against my crystal coat. I wanted to stop; I hated crying. “If there was time to cry then there was time to act.” Uziel had always said that. I had no idea what my action should be, but it had to be better than this? Please, Symphony, stop.

The tears only started to slow down when I felt a hoof wrap around my shoulders. My sister leaned my head against her shoulder, and used her tail to gently rub my back. “Shhh. It’s okay, Symphony. You’re big sister is here. There’s no need to cry.”
I nodded, despite the tears continuing to fall.

Orchestra did not say anything. She just held me, and let me cry. Almost like a parent would. A parent. That reminded me of something. I gently broke away from her, and searched for my bag. I spotted it near the pews where I had fallen unconscious. I held up a hoof to tell her to wait a moment. She nodded coolly, and watched as I retrieved my effects.

I wrote down a question. I had to write it a few times because my tears were interfering with the ink. I tried wiping my face, and eventually the tears had subsided enough to write coherently.

“Orchestra, what were Mom and Dad like?”

“Mom and Dad?” Her voice was wistful, if also melancholic. “I don’t remember much. I was only six when they passed.” Now her eyes were beginning to water. “I do remember Dad’s voice. It was a strong voice, but I remember him being soft spoken. There was this one time, though.” She paused to chuckle and sniffle. “I was running around, and I knocked over his favorite vase.” She shook her head, and let out a soft whistle. “Dad yelling was the most terrifying thing I’d ever heard.

“Mom was very affectionate. She was always hugging us, and reading to us. She used to sing to you every night. I do remember that.” She wiped away a few tears. She then held her hoof in front of her face, and sighed. “I look a little like them. I have Dad’s silver eyes, and Mom’s yellow coat. I’m glad that’s what I got. Dad was a really dark purple, and Mom’s eyes were pink.” She shook her head, and smiled at me. “Can you imagine having pink eyes?”

I was too busy staring at my own hoof to answer. She said they were yellow and purple? Yet I was azure. Silver and pink eyes, yet mine were green. I liked my colors fine enough, but this was a bit disheartening. It would have been nice to have at least known I shared some of their attributes. It was possible we had similar faces, but I could never know. I was only two when they died. In my memories my parents’ faces were hazy at best.

Something hard hit me in the shoulder. Ow. I rubbed my shoulder, and caught ‘Chestra’s grin. “Guess there’s no point hiding the truth anymore little brother. You were adopted.”

Not a very funny joke. I rolled my eyes at her, and mimed a fake laugh. I tried turning away, but I felt her hooves wrap around my waist.

“Not that it would matter. Adopted or not, you’re my little brother. And I swear to the Holy Mother that I will do everything in my power to make things right between us.”

I winced. So she was aware of my bitterness towards her. It made sense; she was not stupid. That did not stop me from feeling bad about her noticing though. I lightly tapped my hooves against hers, and nodded. I honestly was not sure what I was trying to communicate with that. Something along the lines of, “do not worry about it,’ I believe.

She let go, and walked around to my front. She sat down on her haunches, and looked me in the eye. “Do you hate me, Symphony?”
I shook my head. She opened her mouth to say something, but I immediately held up a hoof. She closed her mouth, and I got to writing. “I considered it, but I just could not commit.”

She grinned from ear to ear as she laughed. “That’s right, you did have an issue with commitment. I think Starfall said something about that to me once.”

Really? This was the first I was hearing of this. I thought I had committed to her just fine. I had dated her, among other things, for a good few months before deciding it would not work out. Where was the lack of commitment in that? And who can say I have commitment issues when I was going to propose to Lyra? Heavens above, I left my home to start a family with her. If that is not commitment, then what is? Under my previous statement I wrote, “I have no problems committing to Lyra.”

The grin on my sister’s face gradually began to shrink. It went from ear to ear, to barely reaching her cheeks, and finally into a scowl. The laughter in her eyes had been replaced with a cool rage. Her tail brushed against her kirpan’s sheathe. “Lyra,” she growled.
“Why do you hate her so much?”

I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it. Lyra was born a heathen, and non-crystal ponies were the servants of the Shadow Goddess. They started the war, and sent the bombs to kill the Holy Mother. Therefore, they need to be exterminated before the Holy Mother could return to us. That was more or less the dogma of the True Cadanites. Naturally Orchestra would respond in kind. When she did, I would counterattack with the verse Reverend Bones had read the other day. Regardless of how much respect she had for Nero, Orchestra could not deny that the Holy Mother’s words superseded his.

“She’s the heathen temptress who tried to take my family away. What’s to like?”

But according to The Boo—what? This was unexpected. I had always thought her hatred of Lyra stemmed from Nero’s mantra. Did she really think my relationship with Lyra would drive us apart? That was ludicrous. There was no way that could…-oh. I hung my head, and avoided her gaze. What followed was a genuinely awkward silence. I could not dispel my sister’s beliefs from any place of authenticity. She knew that, and had nothing to say to me. And I did not have the courage to look her in the eye.

Our silence was interrupted by a loud whistling. At first I assumed it was the wind, but on second thought the sound seemed to be coming from inside. It was followed by another whistle, and then a few more. Almost like notes. I chuckled internally. Of course it sounded like music notes. I nodded my head in rhythm with ‘Chestra’s flute. It took longer than it should have, but I was able to recognize the song she was playing. “The Starlight Sonata.”

Most ponies knew it as the cadence to the first movement of Octavia Melody’s third symphony. Well, most cultured ponies did. In truth, most ponies I knew were unaware of its existence. Especially considering it was made by a non-crystal. A true pity. I, however, knew “The Starlight Sonata,” as the song Orchestra played when I was having nightmares. The nocturne’s soothing notes held a special place in my heart, and never failed to bring a smile to my face.

Sadly, it was a short piece. Orchestra played her final note, and sighed. “You probably wouldn't know this, but I used to play this when you had nightmares. It never failed to calm you down."

I replied in the only appropriate way. I clopped my hooves together. It was slow and soft, but would crescendo into loud applause. I faced Orchestra with a bright smile on my face. Of course I knew.

She flushed a little, and hit my shoulder again. Thankfully without actually hurting me this time. “Thanks, but I’m not all that great. I’ve been out of practice for a while.”

If so I was unable to tell. She was as talented as ever. I cast an angry glance at the door to the church’s backroom. The True Cadanites were disgusting in concept, and then they had the nerve to waste my sister’s talent. She should have been playing concerts at the Crystal Palace in Haven. At worst she should have been touring with the CDF choir as part of the band.

“It’s not their fault.” I flicked my gaze back at her. She smiled sadly, but was not looking at me. Rather, she was staring at the black flute in her hooves. “I just haven’t had it in me to practice. Not since…-well, you know.”

Before another awkward silence could follow, Orchestra stood up. She stowed away her flute, and yawned. “I’m getting tired. I think I’m going to bed. Are you going to stay up?”

I nodded. It would be a while before I felt tired.

“Alright. Well, there are mats in the backroom when you want to sleep. You can sleep in here with me if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it. These pews are awful.” She arched her back, and grimaced.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Because they’re uncomfortable I sleep light. If we were in a safe place I’d happily sleep on my mat. But this place isn’t safe at all. And I need to be alert in case something happens.”

I flicked my eyes towards the window.

She shrugged. “Sure, somepony will keep watch. But what use is a watch if nopony is alert to a distress call?”

I supposed she had a point. Not that I was happy about it. I was not comfortable with sleeping anywhere near Joab or the priest. But if I slept in here with my sister then it would have to be on a pew. Ugh.

She laughed at the scowl on my face, and kissed me on the cheek. “Goodnight, little brother.”

Goodnight.

She trotted towards the pews in front of the altar, but stopped. She turned her head back with a slight frown. “You’ll be here when I wake up, right?”

I wrote my response in larger letters so she could read it. “I can always pinch you if you need it.” Turns out I got to use my joke after all.

“That’s not what I’m asking, Symphony.”

Oh. From the sharpness in her tone I was able to infer what she was really asking.

In all likelihood I would be here when she woke up. It was doubtful my companions would come for me after barely escaping with their lives. The lucky ones, at least. I had no clue where they had gone, and I was not the one with the map. True, I had Savage and my knife, but what good would they do me? I was unable to kill a rabid dog. I was nothing more than a target without my companions with me.

The obvious answer to Orchestra’s question was yes. The most probable outcome was also yes. All it took was to write down one little word. Instead, I found myself writing three. “I love you.”

There was no mistaking the hurt on her face as she read those three words. She understood what I was really saying to her. She faced front without a reply, and stormed off. She lay down on the pews without so much as looking in my direction.

Great. Just great. I slapped my face with my hoof. Good job, Symphony. I sighed internally, and trotted towards the door. I needed some fresh air. And hopefully the night sky would offer me some tranquility. I gently pushed open the door. It creaked, as any dilapidated door would, but the sound was surprisingly subtle. I hoped I would not disturb my sister.

I stepped outside into the cold. It could have been worse; I had traveled in worse. My first couple days on the road with Lyra were during a snowstorm. Still, I was not a fan of the cold breeze. I sat down on the edge of the platform. I rubbed my front hooves together, and blew on them. It was more of a placebo than an actual remedy, which could explain why I felt no warmer.

“If you’re cold you could always come inside. I don’t think Purity would mind the company.”

Hello, Joab.

I said nothing, obviously, as he sat down beside me. He was grinning like an idiot, which he was, and extended a hoof towards me. “I have no idea what you said to your sister, but she looked pissed when I walked past her.” He closed his eyes, and whistled. “And there is nothing hotter than a huffy Orchestra.”

I eyed his hoof with unmitigated disgust. First off, the last thing I wanted to hear anypony speaking of was how my sister aroused them. Second, bro hoofing was not a gesture I was overly fond of. Third, and most importantly, there was only one pony I shared a bro hoof with. And Joab possibly killed him.

He shrank back when he noticed my expression. “Okay, okay. Huffy Orchestra isn’t your thing.”

Did he just say…-amazing. Truly, this was amazing. I had managed to find a pony who actually managed to be dumber than Carbine. How had I not noticed this in our previous encounters? A smile found its way onto my lips. Oh yes, I could smile at Joab now. He would be none the wiser that each smile was a silent taunt.

He smiled back, and punched me on the shoulder. “Ha ha. Now there’s that smile I’ve been longing to see.”

Perhaps it was ironic that his actions caused me to frown. I would have done it to spite him, but I was frowning before he started talking. Orchestra was the only pony who I allowed to punch my shoulder. It was one of those older sibling privileges she had mentioned. Joab had no right to do so. It was a matter of principle, and had nothing to do with how hard he punched.

I massaged my shoulder, and he guffawed. “Oh, Symphony. Believe it or not I missed you.”

My belief in it was irrelevant since I could not care less about what he thought. Not after what he did. I made no attempt to reply to Joab. I barely even looked at him. He seemed to catch on to my sentiments. He scooted away from me until there was a large space between us. A space large enough for a colt to sit comfortably.

Joab rubbed the side of his face, as he looked at the stars. “I get it. You’ve been away from civilized ponies so long that we seem weird to you. It makes sense. I guess.” He moved his hoof from his face onto the platform, and drummed his hoof against it. “And this really sucks. I mean, I was ready to ask your permission to date your sister. But I guess I’ll just have to wait.” He grinned at me again.

There were so many things wrong with that statement it was hard to know where to begin. Not all of my companions were uncivilized. Sombra had not been exactly gentle, but he was no heathen. Neither was Doctor Zimri. As for the other three…-no comment. But where did this foal killer get off calling other ponies “uncivilized.” The last time I checked, murdering an innocent child was not an act the Holy Mother approved of.

I was still able to love my sister despite her crimes against me. Joab would never be so lucky. Speaking of my sister, how dare he have the gall to ask my permission to date her. He was unworthy of her. He was unworthy of even saying her name. He di—Oh. Was this how Orchestra felt when she saw me with Lyra? Did she want to hurt Lyra as much as I wanted to hurt Joab? Of all the emotions I expected to feel at this revelation, the one I did not expect was impressed. Orchestra had held in her rage for months. I was still furious she had snapped at all, but at the very least I could give her some credit. Especially given how Lyra was not exactly blameless either.

“Hey, did you hear that?”

Hear what? I pricked my ears. Oh glorious night, what sounds are you willing to bestow upon us? There was the creaking of wood. A classic. I could hear the whistling of the wind. No, wait. There was actual whistling as well. It blended in with the wind well enough, but the whistling was harsher than the sound of the wind. An uncultured pony like Joab would not be able to detect the cacophony. Therefore, this was obviously not a signal for him. Rather, it was one for me. One of my companions was brave enough to return for me! To save me from this nest of murderers. Orchestra and Purity were to be excluded, of course.

Or, somepony was passing by and just happened to be whistling. This was arguably a more likely scenario.

Joab readied his gun. He did not sound an alarm, likely because neither of us was certain if there was another pony at all. And if he disturbed my sister while she was sleeping, Goddess help him. Actually, on second thought, let him face ‘Chestra’s wrath. He deserved worse.

“See anything, buddy?”

No. Not that I would tell you if I did. Still, I was compelled by curiosity. I squinted in the hopes of seeing something in the distance. If only I had Carbine’s binoculars, or…-I silently crept inside the church. It seemed Orchestra was still sleeping. Good. It would make things less awkward if one of my companions truly had returned. I retrieved my bags, and took them outside. I could still hear the whistling, but visibility was still poor. Darkness and all that.

I set down my bag, ignoring Joab’s curious expression. I immediately reached in with my front legs, and retrieved Savage. It was still beyond uncomfortable to get set, but I eventually held the sniper rifle so that the scope was in front of my eye. If Lyra had been able to kill Telebrah’s companions in the dark, then I should be able to spot the whistler.

And spot her I did. A mint-green mare wearing tight black barding was slowly approaching us. Her lips were puckered together, confirming her identity as the source of the whistling. As she drew closer I noticed two things about her. One, she was holding a pair of binoculars to her eyes. That meant she could likely see us as well. Hopefully she was able to see Joab’s gun, and could sneak around him. I also noticed the white cloth tied around the base of her horn. Why? Was it so she could hide her damaged horn? I instinctively felt my throat start to burn. I could empathize.

“I see her!” Joab titled his body, so that the barrel of the gun was facing towards Lyra. “’Chestra’s gonna love me for this.”

But I would hate you for it.

I wrapped my front legs around Joab, and pressed Savage against his neck. My back legs went around his waist to keep him pinned. Before he could shoot at Lyra or use the gun against me, I slammed my head against his horn. It hurt, a lot, but it was enough to disrupt his magic. Joab’s gun fell onto the wooden floor. Thud. It was decently loud, but I had no idea if it was loud enough to wake up my sister. This provided me with a new sense of urgency.

I applied more pressure, and Joab fought back as valiantly as he could. His stretched his neck and bit me, but I had fared against worse. Thank you, Carbine. If he were still alive, I would have to thank him. Joab’s front hooves pounded against mine, but I did not let go. Come on, come on! How long did it take to choke a pony out? That was all I needed to do. Knock him out long enough for Lyra and I to escape. I did not want to kill him. I did not want to kill him. I did not…

For a split second I saw an image of Missile’s dead body in my mind. My front hooves twitched. Crack. The sound was sharper than the knife I had found in Starfall. It was not all that loud, but it reverberated in my ears. I could feel my heartbeat racing. With each successive beat I heard the noise again. Crack. Crack. Crack. It grew louder each time. It was as if I was hearing something break. A femur, a leg.

Or a neck.

I released my grip on Joab, and he crumpled to the floor. His head was twisted slightly, and was angled towards me. I met his eyes this time. I saw my reflection in his lifeless green eyes. I saw myself shake before I was aware I was doing it. My mouth was moving, but of course there was no sound. What was I saying? I could not read my lips in my reflection, nor was I aware of my words. But they kept coming. I felt my mouth move in three syllables.

For. Give. Me.

Forgive me.

Then I felt a hoof touch one of mine. My mouth did not stop moving as I locked eyes with another pony. I saw my reflection in her eyes as well. I was still shaking, and repeating those three syllables.

Forgive me.

She pulled me to her chest, and hugged me tightly. So tightly I wondered if I would break the way Joab did. Crack. Crack. I felt her putting my bags on me, and felt as she packed away the murder weapon. She pulled away, and gently kissed me on the lips. I did not kiss her back. I was unworthy of her love. All I wanted was forgiveness. But she was not the mare who could give it to me.

Our lips parted, and she wrapped one of her hooves around mine. “I’ll always return to you, Symphony,” Lyra whispered barely above the wind. “I love you.” She kissed my cheek, and began to walk forward.

I followed, those three syllables not once leaving my lips. Without realizing it, I found myself staring at the church. As well as the lifeless body crumpled before it. I felt a deep shame welling up inside me.

Forgive me, Mother, for I have sinned.

Forgive me, Orchestra, for having to leave you again

Footnote: Level up!
New Perk: Murderer. Welcome to the Wasteland.
When you or somepony you love is in danger, chance for critical hits increase.

Author's Note

Hey, all. This is another day early chapter. I hope no one minds too much. It was just very convenient for me to post this today since one of my classes was out.

As always, I want to thank Kkat for creating the original story, other authors for their contributions, and my readers for caring about what I create. It means a lot.

You have may have noticed that there is finally some cover art! I want to thank Sw1tchbl4de for creating that awesome image. While the timing was not intentional, I think it's awesome that the first chapter to debut with the art is one featuring Orchestra given that she's the mare on the cover.

Just a few general notes on the chapter, One, the contractions in Symphony's narration were intentional. I felt since he was so highly emotional at the time that he wouldn't care to use contractions. But once he's calmed down his mind goes back to normal. Two, rest in peace Missile. I was originally going to kill much earlier in the story but he grew on me so I let him stick around. But all good things must come to an end. And three, this has easily been my favorite chapter to this point and was by far the easiest to write. I know it's been probably the darkest so far, but I hope you were all able to enjoy it.

1.7: Nocturne

1.7 Nocturne
“It’s all secrets and lies with these ponies.”

The Goddess is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Not once in all the times I had uttered that phrase had I ever doubted its veracity. Sure, there were things I wanted. If I was hungry I wanted food; if I was thirsty I would want water. There were other earthly things I desired as well; such as the pleasurable company of my dearest Lyra. But to me, “I shall not want” meant something beyond simple desire. It meant being content in my relationship with the Goddess. I wanted nothing from her, because her love and guidance were all I would ever need. And those were blessings nopony had to ask for.

Now, for the first time in my life, I wanted something more. It was not a desire of the mind or of the flesh, but of the soul. I wanted forgiveness for killing another. I needed to know she would not forsake me for my sin. Really though, who was I to ask a Goddess for anything?
She maketh me lie down in green pastures. She leadeth me beside still waters. She restoreth my soul. She leadeth me in paths of righteousness for her name’s sake.

I could see no green pastures anymore. Since Camp Terminus the land had been mostly barren. There were patches of green on occasion, but nothing that could be considered a pasture. As for still waters—I winced as I was pelted by the stinging rain. No, last I checked, rain did not meet the qualifications of still water. The Holy Mother was not leading me anywhere right now, certainly not in paths of righteousness.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

I felt no comfort as I marched on. Externally, I felt the cold downpour. Internally, I felt a growing sense of dread. More than once I had wondered what the valley of the shadow of death would look like. The image my mind usually conjured up was of a small path in-between two sheer walls of stone. Each wall cast a shadow upon the path, and lurking within the shadows were the spirits of the dead. So maybe it was more of the canyon of the shadow of death, but it seemed right in my mind’s eye.

Speaking of eyes, the rain was beginning to sting my eyes. I closed my eyes to protect them from the rain, and was greeted with the image of the canyon. Despite the thickness of the shadows, I was easily able to identify most of the spirits. I saw Starfall with a gaping hole in her chest, and a concaved horn. Uziel stood behind her with his crushed skull. Not far down were Sombra and Missile. Blood, or was it poison?, trickled from Sombra’s mouth. The older stallion’s face was gaunt and stoic, as he rocked the colt in his front hooves.

Missile sat up, and our eyes met. There was a large hole in his right eye, and I could see the remains of Joab’s bullet in the socket. He smiled at me, and even waved. “Thank you for avenging me, Symphony.”
“Yeah, Symph.” Joab emerged from a thick patch of shadow. He slowly stepped towards me. Each methodical step caused his head to bounce around like a ragdoll. The glare on his face was piercing, but I could admit it was hard to take seriously with the way his head was bouncing. I knew Carbine would have found it funny. Joab reached the border of the shadow and the pathway. He reached out to me, but his hoof was unable to cross the threshold. “Thanks for killing me, buddy.”

I turned my head away, and stared at the shadow beneath the other wall. I found three ponies masked by haze. One of which was Carbine. While his body was marred by shadow, his face was clear. I supposed my mind was still unable to decide whether he should be counted amongst the dead or not. The other two were almost completely silhouettes. The shapes of their shadows were in a constant state of flux, and their faces were indiscernible. Almost. I was able to see each of their eyes. One pair was silver, and the other was bright pink.

I opened my eyes, and immediately felt the sting of the rain. Oh well. My eyes were bound to be wet anyways after what I had just seen.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

My head was not being anointed by anything. Aside from the continuous rain, of course. As for a table in the presence of my enemies…-Orchestra’s companions had eaten with me in-between attempts on Lyra’s life. Congratulations, Symphony, you’ve only been mostly shunned by the Holy Mother.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

The words caused my mind to be bombarded by images. My sister screaming. The bodies of Starfall and Uziel. Carbine executing Telebrah. Sombra’s final smile. Missile crying in my hooves; Carbine’s bro hoof. Their motionless bodies. Lyra losing her horn. And, for the grand finale, there was Joab’s murder. Goodness and mercy, huh? It seemed my life was out of goodness and mercy.

Now, now, Symphony no nee—No! After everything I had seen over the past few days, I earned the right to be melodramatic. I lost my home. My family! My voice! The one thing that was supposed to give me a purpose in life, and I had lost it! There was nothing left for me anymore. I had no talent, no home, and, if ‘Chestra had any sense at all I had no family. And it seemed as if the Holy Mother herself had forsaken me. To top it all off, my soul had been tainted by Joab’s blood. What was left? What did I have to live for?

“Ah, stupid thing. Why won’t it stay open?’

I gazed behind me to find Lyra struggling with the map. She was using one hoof to shield the map from the rain, while she held it open with her other hoof and mouth. At least, she was trying to. There was a fairly strong breeze in addition to the rain. Said breeze buffeted against Lyra, and she lost her grip on the map.

“Fuck! How the fuck do they do this without magic?” Raindrops splashed against Lyra’s face, and blended with her rage-fueled tears. “Come on, Lyra, you can do this. It’s not that hard.”

Even so, there was no reason for me to stand idly by. I reached Lyra, and held the map open for her.

She rubbed her face with a hoof, and sighed. “I’m sorry you had to hear me swearing like that. I doubt it’s very attractive.”

She would be right in that assertion. Though I had heard her say far worse. I doubted she could say anything worse than “The Great Cunt.” Instead of attempting to communicate my thoughts, I decided that I wanted to kiss her. Only to prove that she was attractive no matter what. It had nothing to do my stallion urges.

The cloth around Lyra’s horn had been knocked about by the wind. It was still tied, but it was now slumping on her forehead rather than covering her horn. It pained me to see her fractured horn. Disability was not easy to deal with, and I would never have wished that upon Lyra. I gently touched my lips to her broken horn. I lacked the ability to kiss her wound better, but I hoped she would appreciate the gesture. Besides, her mouth was far too filthy at the moment.

I was immediately pushed away. It was not the first time Lyra had pushed me, but it was the first time I felt genuine force behind it. Her eyes blazed with all the glory of the sun, as she used her hooves to fix her cloth. Stupid, Symphony. Stupid, stupid, Symphony. I was still sensitive about ponies touching my throat. I should have known Lyra would feel the same way about her horn. If I had truly been forsaken by the Goddess then she had made the right call. I was not worth her mercy.

I placed a hoof on my chest, and made a circle.

Her eyes instantly cooled off. There was still fire in her gaze, but thankfully it was closer to simmering coals than the blazing sun. “You don’t need to apologize, Symphony. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I just need some time to heal.”

I nodded slowly. For a while that was all the communication we shared. She did not say anything, while I was unable to. I could have written something, but the rain would have rendered any attempts moot. Besides, it was a while before I had anything worthwhile to say. When I did find something, I lightly tapped her on the shoulder and mouthed. “Thank you for coming back for me.” It was a lot of words, so I made sure to mouth each of them slowly.

I received a thump on the back of my head in return. “Idiot. What kind of mare would I be if I left you behind? I kinda love you, ya know.”
Yeah, I did know. I gently brushed away part of her mane, and kissed the side of her cheek. She pushed me again, but this time it was playful. This was the Lyra I knew and loved.

Shaking her head, she looked up at the sky and sighed. “We’re in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain, and all you can think about is getting me in the mood.” She rolled her eyes. “Of all the mares and stallions I could have picked, I had to choose the biggest sex-fiend in the Crystal Wasteland.”

She grinned at me, and, for once, I grinned back. There was an undeniable truth to what Lyra had said. Well, not the sex-fiend part. The part right before. She had picked me. Out of all the options she had, she thought I was the best one. I had chosen her as well. I could not lie; I had never been much of a mare magnet. Yet it was my decision to pursue Lyra in the first place that led us to each other. It led us here. To being two broken ponies in love.

If I had known what meeting Lyra would do to my life, I would make the same decision in a heartbeat.

To Tartarus with my voice. To Tartarus with my home, and my tainted soul. To Tartarus with the Holy Mo—actually, that was a bad thought. Even if she had forsaken me, I could not lose my faith in the Holy Mother. Back to my point, my personal losses did not matter. I had a purpose in life not dependent upon my cutie mark. My purpose was to belong to Lyra Heartstrings XIII. What right did I have to ask for more?

I stopped moving immediately.

Lyra did as well, and raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you okay, love?”

I faced her, and mustered up the most debonair smile I could. I bowed to her, and offered her my hoof. I raised my head, and mouthed two words. “My Lady.”

A smile more beautiful than the sunrise formed on her face. Although she were not wearing a dress or skirt, Lyra performed a curtsey. She took my hoof in hers, and pressed it against her heart. “My Sex-fiend.”

If she insisted. I kissed her cheek, and gently nibbled on her ear. She laughed, but did not bother to push me away this time. Instead, she caressed my neck. Softly. So softly…

And I will dwell in the house of my lover forever.

Amen.

***

The Cemetery. Whoever named this place had no sense of creativity. I supposed I should give them credit for explaining the essence of the area in one word. Really though. Was it too much to ask for a touch of imagination? The Cemetery was, predictably, a large graveyard. There was even a large black gate Lyra and I had to open to gain access to it.

Beyond the gate were the tombstones. Tens upon tens of headstones marked the eternal resting place of many bodies. Yes, tens upon tens. This was not exactly a very large cemetery. Most likely because part of the land had been used to build the radio station. Tombstone Radio was in even worse condition than the church I had fled. Erosion had eaten away at the stone walls, and the wooden roof was slanted. Not that slanted roofs were tacky by any means, it could work as a style. This roof’s slant seemed less of a style choice, and gave the impression that the support on one side had completely given out. Atop the roof was a satellite dish. Like the roof, it was standing at an angle. Hmm. I wondered if that odd angle had been why my signal had been so finicky the other day.

The station itself had been built upon a small hill, almost like a tomb. Suddenly, the name Tombstone Radio made much more sense. From where I stood the radio station seemed to be peering over the graveyard. It was like the tomb of a king, looking down on the sea of commoners. Either it was all coincidental, or Reverend Bones had an ego about him. There was only one way to find out. All I would have to do was cross the plains of the dead, trot up the stairs, and knock on his door.

Oh, and avoid the plethora of feral ghouls patrolling the graveyard. It only made sense there would be feral ghouls. It would have been a disappointment for a place called the Cemetery to not have any zombies. I sighed internally, and shook my head. I already hated this place.

I motioned to the ghouls, and raised an eyebrow at Lyra.

She pointed to a tombstone that was marked with a skull. A glowing skull. This was new. The skull radiated a shimmering green aura. Streaks of black swam inside the sea of eerie green. I shuddered. I did not know what kind of magic the skull was emitting, but I did not want to find out.

“That one. Below it is a tunnel that leads into the radio station. If we make it past the ghouls, then we should be home free.”

I kept my eyebrow raised. Was there a plan on how to deal with the ghouls?

She tapped Faith’s holster with one of her hooves. “Aim for the head.”

Oh. We were going to force our way through, killing anypony who got in our way? Again, I sighed internally. I may have tainted my soul by murdering Joab, but I was still uncomfortable with the idea of killing another pony. Even a feral ghoul. Still, I supposed I had nothing to lose now except for Lyra.

Okay, Symphony, how about this? You will not kill anything, pony or otherwise, unless it is threatening the life of your family. Yes, that seemed fair. I could still refrain from killing, while giving myself a special clause just in case. I felt hypocritical for giving myself an excuse for murder, but it had to be done. Lyra was worth it. Besides, I said family. This rule applied to the children I planned to have with her as well. Carbine too if he were still alive. He was my crystal brother, after all.

I drew my knife, and held it in my mouth. I titled my head towards the radio station. Lead the way.

She nodded, and crouched. Ever so slowly, she began to creep towards the marked tombstone. She was taking cover behind other headstones, and was zig-zagging to avoid crossing paths with the ghouls. Every few headstones, she would motion for me to follow her. So I did. I moved slowly, and tried to follow her path as best I could. I stopped periodically to raise my head and check on the ghouls’ location.

That turned out to be a terrible decision. While my head was raised I had been neglecting to look at where I was stepping. Snap. All the ghouls in the area, which were at least twenty, turned towards the sound of the snapping twig. I was already bolting towards the tombstone. My heart was racing, and I could feel my legs tiring quickly. I may have had adrenaline on my side, but I was also fatigued. Aside from a short and uncomfortable nap, I had not slept properly since Camp Terminus.

That would likely be the first thing I did once I reached the radio station. Lyra had met the Reverend already, and warned him of the impending threat by the CDF. That left me with a short agenda for when I met him. Introduce myself to Reverend Bones, thank him for his hospitality, and fall asleep.

Lyra was already at the marked tombstone. The inscription read: Here lies Shining Armor The Burned Stallion. May his soul rest forever in the queendom of the Goddess; may his bones rest forever in the Empire’s holy soil.

If not for the cellar door directly in front of the headstone, I would have been shocked by what I had read. I almost believed the Burned Stallion had been buried here. That was impossible, though. He had ascended to be with the Goddess years ago. There was never any body to bury. It did make me curious as to why there was an epitaph at all bearing his name….

“Symphony, behind you!”

I spun around immediately. I had been so lost in thought I had not felt the presence of a ghoul behind me. When I turned around, the knife in my mouth sliced through the air around me, and into the ghoul’s throat. The undead unicorn sprawled backwards with blood spraying from the fresh wound. The blood splattered my coat, but I paid it no mind. I was too busy focusing on the other ghouls approaching us.

The ghouls and the skull. The more ghouls that approached the larger the green and black-streaked aura seemed to grow. I did not know if it was attracting them, giving them power, or accomplishing another task I had not yet considered. I was aware of one thing. I freaked me right the Tartarus out.

I cast a glance behind me. Lyra had her hooves wrapped around the door’s hinges, but was having trouble pulling the door open. I assumed Doctor Zimri had simply used his magic to open it last time. My poor Lyra. No doubt she was feeling frustrated. I gently touched her shoulder with my tail. You can do this Lyra, I know you can.

I did not have the time to see how she replied to my gesture. I was too busy ramming my knife into the eye socket of an oncoming ghoul. With my mouth still around the handle, I used my front hooves to push the monster off my knife. A rampaging unicorn used its horn to pierce my side, while a pegasus ran towards me with its mouth open. The horn hurt, a lot, but I was more concerned with the pegasus. The last thing I wanted was to have my throat ripped out.

I planted my back legs, and pivoted my body so my side was facing it. Ergo, the unicorn was facing it. The pegasus bit into the side of the unicorn’s face, and tore away a chunk of the unicorn’s cheek and ear. The unicorn screeched, and pulled its horn out of my side. I used my back legs to buck it in the head. The unicorn staggered back, but was still alive. Sadly I was not strong enough to shatter a pony’s skull with my bare hooves.

Wait. Had I really just thought that? Wow. I really had become a bonafide murderer. I was not even paying attention when I shoved my knife into the pegasus’ throat. Nor when I pinned the unicorn to the ground, and rammed my knife into its skull. I felt no remorse. No pity. Only a strange sense of joy. I was unsure if I felt joy because I was defending Lyra, or because some sick part of me actually found pleasure in killing the ghouls. That uncertainty terrified me.

Finally, Lyra threw open the cellar door. I had expected to see a small flight of stairs, and some torches along the wall. No, because that would have made sense. A gaping dark hole with no visible bottom? Now that was genius design. Every part of me thought this was a terrible idea, and was about to turn around to find another way to the front door.

Then Lyra pushed me.

Thud. I landed on the ground. Thud. Lyra landed on top of me. I turned back to glare at her, but was distracted. Earlier today I had seen her illuminated by the rising sun. Now I was her in the moonlight. Her silver mane shimmered perfectly, and the light reflected in her ey—oh, no. I just realized why seeing moonlight was bad.

Lyra had not closed the cellar door.

“No time to gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes. We’ve gotta move!” She helped me to my hooves, and started sprinting.

I followed her as quickly as I could, though I slowed down to cast occasional glances behind us. A few of the ghouls were jumping into the cellar after us. Some landed with sickening crunches and had broken their legs, but there were at least three earth ponies whose bodies had survived the landing. Being earth ponies, they were moving quickly.

“Hey, open the door! It’s Lyra!” she yelled.

Then I saw it. There was a pink glow before me. There was a low creak, and I saw the glow swing towards me. I assumed somepony had just opened a door for us. I looked behind me one last time. The ghouls were gaining on us. We had enough of a lead that we should be able to make it through the door. Barely.

What were my options? I could keep running, and pray to the Holy Mother that I would make it. Though if I were right about her forsaking me, then my prayers would be ignored. Next option. I could fight off the ghouls, and give Lyra enough time to escape. No, that was a bad idea too. She would never forgive me if I did something so reckless. Especially if I died. Option three was running faster, which was almost an impossibility at this point. That left me with option four.

I knew I did not have the strength to outrun the ghouls, so I did the next best thing. I jumped. My body sprang forward towards the glowing light. Multiple scenarios flashed through my mind. Hitting the ground and breaking my leg, being caught by a ghoul before I was able to gain any distance, not reaching the door at all. I tried to think of ways to counter those scenarios. If I broke my leg, then I would crawl. If I were caught by a ghoul, then I would fight it off as best I could. If I did not reach the door, then I would run until I was safe or captured.

Alas, I hit the door. I landed on my stomach, with my head bouncing off the metal doorframe. My vision became blurry, and my ears were pounding. I heard somepony shouting at me, likely Lyra, from the other side of the door. I was glad she had made it. She deserved to live. I, on the other hoof, was content with finally getting some sleep.

***

I opened my eyes feeling two conflicting emotions. Satisfaction and disappointment. My body felt great. Nowhere near as great as when I had Med-X in me, but my fatigue was gone. The only disappointment I felt was in my dreamless sleep. After what my mind had created during my walk with Lyra, I had been curious to see what my subconscious had been cooking up. My loss I supposed.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” a voice rasped beside me.

I turned over, and gasped. What I saw before me was a being half-way between a pony and a corpse. Actually, a ghoul was half-way between a pony and a corpse. The being in front of me was closer to a corpse. Lividity had set in, and turned the pony’s flesh into a disgusting shade of indigo. Except for its mouth and neck. Dried blood had turned that area dark red. Most of the flesh had concaved, giving it the appearance of a skeleton. Even its facial features had sunken in. The only sign of it being alive was the dim ember of light in its eyes. Its orange eyes.

Doctor Zimri?

He tried to laugh, but soon erupted into dry hacking. He raised a crumpled hoof, and patted the hoof against his sunken chest. I could hear his chest squelching as pus dribbled onto the hoof. The Doctor must have seen my horrified expression, because his mouth twisted into a dry smile. At least, I thought it was a smile. It was hard to tell.

“I think this is irony. A doctor killed by his own drug.” He chuckled, and, thankfully, this time did not dry hack.

Hold on a moment. His own drug? I doubted Cat-Eye could do this, so did that mean Rainboom? No, that made no sense. Doctor Zimri had clearly taken Buck in the church. Or did take them both?

“Goddess.”

Excuse me?

Doctor Zimri’s horn glowed dimly, and a large vial levitated from behind him and onto his lap. Vines with thorns were engraved along the sides of the vial. I got the sense they were warning others of the contents within. Within the vial was a bright crimson liquid. The liquid splashed against the walls of the vial. It was almost as if the liquid were alive, and attempting to break free. A living drug. Now that was a terrifying concept.

“Goddess. My magnum opus. A drug that combines many others. Something so powerful, you’ll feel like the Goddess herself.” He laughed dryly, and stared at the vial. I could see hunger in his eyes. He caressed the vial with his hooves, and whimpered softly.

I loudly rapped my hooves on the wooden floor.

The Doctor was released from his trance. I could hear him panting faintly, and he hurriedly levitated the vial towards me. I grabbed it in-between my hooves. Goddess he said. The name was blasphemous, no doubt, but it felt accurate. I could feel something coming from this vial. I was unsure of how to describe it. The closest word was powerful, but even that felt like an understatement. Perhaps omnipotent would be better. I was able to feel this just by touching the vial. It both terrified and intrigued me to consider how I would feel if I tried it. One little drink. How bad could it be?

For starters, I could end up like Doctor Zimri. I conceded that was, in fact, a terrific point. “If you take that thing, it will destroy you, Symphony. So use it only when you have no other options.”

A last resort. That was good to know. I nodded my thanks, and stowed it in my saddlebags. Speaking of my bags, I found a sheet of paper and wrote down a quick question. “Carbine?”

The Doctor lethargically tilted his head towards the door. “Alive, and mostly well. Unfortunately I’m not a brain surgeon.”

Oh no. The shrapnel must have damaged more than Carbine’s eye. It must have lodged itself into his brain. That was impossible. Carbine was too thickheaded for that to possibly occur. All joking aside, I did not want to believe my friend had sustained such injuries. Once I noticed the smirk on the Doctor’s face, I realized my mistake.

“It’s a joke, Symphony. I’m just saying I wasn’t able to fix that head of his. He lost an eye, but other than that he’s okay. The Reverend wanted to interview him for the show. It should be starting anytime now if you want to go listen.”

I did. Again, I nodded my thanks and began to trot out the room.

“Symphony?”

I turned back. I could not be sure, but I could have sworn he was smiling back at me.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too, okay?” I mouthed back.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, I turned my back on Doctor Zimri. I heard him dry hacking as I made my way down the hallway, but I did not stop. I probably should have, but I knew there was nothing I could do for him. Only the Goddess could help him now.

Tombstone Radio was remarkably easy to navigate. What I expected to be a complex series of tunnels and corridors consisted of only one main hallway, and a few sets of stairs. After being forced to fight my way through a herd of ghouls and dash through a secret tunnel, I found the convenience refreshing to say the least. I found Lyra standing in the hallway. She waved at me, and I walked a little faster.

“You’re just in time for the show.”

In front of us was a large window. Through the window I could see into a room. On one side of the room was Carbine. He was sitting in a chair at the end of a white table and twiddling his front hooves. A healing bandage was wrapped around his left eye and part of that side of his head. I noticed the knot on the bandage was directly in front of his eye socket. Almost like an eyepatch. When he noticed me looking, I saw his face brighten. He waved at me, and I even waved back.

Then I looked at the other side of the room. I could see almost nothing. The room was pitch dark. There were only two things I could see on that side of the room. A pair of glowing blue eyes, and wisps of pink smoke that trailed from beneath them. One of the eyes winked at me. That must have been Reverend Bones. The eyes moved away from me, and fixed themselves on Carbine. I heard a dull hum of electricity, and assumed the Reverend was turning on his radio equipment.

“Welcome, listeners, to Tombstone Radio. I’m Reverend Bones, coming to you live from the Cemetery. And I have a treat for you, tonight. An interview with one of the most notorious stallions in all of the Crystal Wasteland. A first class killer. No, listeners, I’m not referring to High Priest Nero. Here he is, the Red Terror. In the flesh. At least, for the most part.”

Carbine laughed, and set his hooves on the table. “Yeah, which is more than I can say for you, right, Bonsey?”

Reverend Bones’ reply was half-way between a wheeze and a dry chuckle. “Tell me, Red Terror. What makes you tick? What goes on in that brain of yours?”

Carbine threw his front hooves up in the air, and shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Thoughts just kinda pop into my head, and then stuff happens. Mostly shooting. That’s one of my favorite thoughts.”

The eyes moved up and down, so I assumed he was nodding. “Funny you should mention that. I heard reports that you killed a pony while in church. Tell me, why would you do such a thing?”

Carbine threw his head back, and groaned. “Come on! I gave him fair warning. If anypony tried anything, I’d kill ‘em. He didn’t have to attack me from behind. But he did. So I blew his face off. I don’t really see the problem.” Carbine’s eye shifted towards me, and I noticed the confusion in them. “But I know there is one. You see, I’ve got this friend. And after I blew that motherfucker away, my friend got mad at me. He even hit me in the face!”

“I can hardly imagine why.” Reverend Bones’ rasp was laced with sarcasm, but Carbine seemed to ignore it.

“Right?! So rude of him.” Carbine flashed me a wink. “But, I think I’m starting to get why he got mad at me. It wasn’t because I shot that dumb fuck in the face. It was that I did it in a church. Apparently that’s not okay.”

“No. Murder is not generally accepted inside a church. It is holy ground.”

Carbine rolled his eye, and drummed his lips. “Holy schmoley. I got shot the last time I was in a church. And I didn’t even do anything!”

The Reverend nodded, and sighed. Pink smoke swirled around the area around his eyes. “Yes. I will be the first to admit that the True Cadanites are a scourge to the name of the Holy Mother.”

“Sure. Whatever that means.”

The Reverend chuckled again. “You know something, Red Terror? I owe you an apology.”

Carbine scratched the back of his mane. “What the fuck for?”

“For being exactly the kind of pony I urge others not to be. I judged you too harshly when I heard about what happened in Hospitality. I’ll be honest; I still think you’re a dangerous sociopath. But I don’t think you’re a bad pony. And I don’t think you’re beyond forgiveness. There are worse ponies than you out there. Believe me. I’ve met them.”

Carbine’s eye gleamed dangerously. “Worse than me? Is that a challenge, Bonsey?”

The Reverend shook his head, and sighed a second time. “Actually, it was meant as a compliment.”

“Oh. Well, uh, thanks then. So, we done here?”

“I have one last question if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“Is that an offer?” The Reverend grinned.

Carbine burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he fell out of his chair. He raised his hoof, so that it was only thing visible from where I was standing, and waved it at Reverend Bones. “Ya know what? I like you, Bonsey. You’re pretty cool for an ugly motherfucker.”

The Reverend paused, as Carbine climbed back onto his chair. The pause continued, and I got the sense he was waiting for Carbine to say something. Finally, the Reverend spoke up. “Aren’t you going to say, ‘no offense?’”

Carbine scoffed, and placed his front hooves behind his head. “Nope. Just gonna wait for your last question.”

Reverend Bones’ eyes moved towards Lyra and me. I could have been mistaken, but I could have sworn there was sympathy in his gaze. His eyes turned back to face Carbine, and the Reverend let out a deep breath. “What most of my listeners don’t know is that you lost a friend of yours very recently. Your, ‘Bro,’ correct?”

Carbine nodded.

“You’re on the radio, Red Terror. They can’t see you nod.”

“Oh, whoops.” He chuckled half-heartedly, and rubbed the back of his mane. “Yeah. I lost my Bro yesterday.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. The loss of a loved one is a pain I would not wish upon my worst enemies. It never gets any easier. Believe me, I’d know.” The Reverend chucked mirthlessly. “But this does lead to my final question. Now that you’ve lost somepony yourself, does that change the way you engage others? Or, to put it another way, would you have still killed that stallion in the church? Even though you know what it’s like to lose somepony.”

Carbine threw up his hooves, and nodded. “Yeah. I still told him I’d shoot him. Bro wasn’t the first pony I’ve lost. And all their deaths have taught me one thing. Better you than me.”

“Well, listeners. There you have it. Right from the pony’s mouth. Let’s hear it for my guest, the Red Terror.” Reverend Bones clopped his hooves together.

Lyra and I followed suit. Carbine may have been a sociopath, but he was right. Better them than Lyra. I would have no problem adopting a mantra such as that. Killing ponies who threatened her would not be a problem at all.

The sound of Joab’s neck snapping echoed in my mind.

Okay, it would be a while before I was able to kill a pony without regret. Actually, I hoped the day never came. Conscience was the only thing keeping me from becoming Carbine. While I was his Crystal Bro, he was still a nutcase.

“Alright, Bonsey. We good?”

“Yes. I have to say goodbye to my listeners before I can join you and your friends. Please excuse me a moment.”

The door to Carbine’s side of the room slowly opened. Carbine hopped to his hooves, and trotted out the door with his head high. He flashed Lyra and me a grin when he saw us and offered me a Bro hoof. Again, why not? I returned his gesture, though my eyes were drawn to the Reverend’s dark room.

“Hello, listeners. Thank you for being so patient with me during that last broadcast. I had been hoping to give you all some news and inspirational quotes, but I couldn’t just let that type of opportunity slip by. You see, everypony, I made a mistake a few days ago. I said, and I quote, ‘I pray you will repent, and find mercy and forgiveness in the Holy Mother. Because you sure won’t find it in anypony else.’

“While I do hope the Red Terror repents and finds the Holy Mother, it was not my place to say he would not find mercy and forgiveness anywhere else. As a servant of the Goddess, and as a pony who finds the True Cadanites disgusting, it crossed the line for me to say that. So, listeners, I leave you with a fitting verse. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’

“This is Reverend Bones, and you’ve been listening to Tombstone Radio. And may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.” His horn glowed for a moment, and the hum of electricity died. He then sighed deeply, and his part of the room became enveloped in the pink smoke. “You know, Miss Heartstrings, it’s rude to turn a gun on your host.”

I stared in shock and horror as Lyra held Faith in her mouth. The barrel was pointed towards Reverend Bones, or where I assumed he was based on his glowing eyes. Her tongue was on the trigger, and from the glint in her eyes I knew she wanted to pull it.

“Funny you should say that when you’re the cause of all our problems.”

“Oh? And how do you figure that?”

For a moment the glint in her eyes was replaced by the mischievous twinkle. “Because I know who you are. Who you really are. You’re a ghoul, so you can’t be a crystal pony. Yet you know The Book of Cadance better than most crystal ponies I’ve ever met.”

“My faith just happens to be stronger than most other ponies. Two hundred years of faith will do that to a pony.”

“Still, I find it odd that a non-crystal pony would be so invested in the gospel of Princess Cadance. Especially one who was alive during the Great Zebra War. When you were alive you knew she wasn’t a goddess. So you made her one.”

What was she talking about? This made no sense. Reverend Bones did not make the Holy Mother into a goddess. I could be honest, I had no idea what actually did. I knew there had to be something that did! How else could she have given the Burned Stallion the gospel? I knew Lyra had no faith, but her argument still made no sense. If anypony invented the Holy Mother’s ascension it would have been the Burned Stallion. Not Reverend Bones…-wait…

“I’ve got to give you credit though, Reverend. You are a sly son of a bitch.” Lyra managed to grin around Faith’s handle. “That whole ascension angle was genius. Nopony would dare challenge that. And that tombstone with the secret passageway? Priceless.” Her grin dissolved into a blank frown as she continued. “It’s fitting that you call this place Tombstone Radio. This is your tomb, isn’t it?

“Now.” She reached with one of her hooves, and pulled back Faith’s hammer. “Turn on the light, Reverend.”

“As you wish, Miss Heartstrings.”

There was a dim pink glow, which I assumed was coming from Reverend Bones’ horn. The dim glow was quickly followed by a bright flash. Then, I saw him. Sitting in a swivel chair in front of a microphone, was a pony wearing a wide-brimmed hat, and half-wrapped in bandages. Most of the bandages had torn, though, revealing a scarred and leathery white coat. Clouds of pink oozed from his scarred hide, and exited his mouth and nostrils with each breath he took. The pink cloud exited the room through the vents, and I assumed dissipated into the air outside.

Of all the scarred parts on his body, there was one part which had remained intact. His cutie mark. On his flanks was a dark blue shield with the three stars levitating over it. In the center of the shield was a large pink star. The CDF emblem.

No. No, this was impossible. This was unreal. He could not be here. He should not be here! Yet here he was. The receiver of the Holy Mother’s gospel. The one who ascended to be with her in the everafter. The founder of the Cadanite religion. In front of me stood the Burned Stallion. In front of me stood Shining Armor.

He grabbed his hat, and gently tipped it towards us. “Pleased to make your acquaintance all. My name.” He paused to chuckle, and coughed up a glob of pink goop. “My real name is Shining Armor.”

I immediately began to write down my questions. “How is this possible? I thought you ascended. Why are you here? Why did you lie?

“Was it all a lie?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Lyra cut him off. “Yes, Symphony, it was. There was a Princess Cadance, but there was never a Goddess. It was all just a story Shining Armor invented to preserve the memory of his dead wife.”

The Rev—Shining Armor grinned at her. “You are sharp, Miss Heartstrings, I’ll give you that.” He turned his eyes on me, and pointed to Lyra with his hoof. “This one’s a keeper to be sure.”

Carbine raised his hoof. “Hey, I’m confused. Can somepony tell me what the fuck is happening right now?”

“It’s just as you said the other night, Carbine. The Cadanite religion is bullshit.”

No. My religion was not bullshit! It did not matter if the Goddess had forsaken me or not. I still trusted in her. I still had faith in her. Yes, of course. Just because the Burned Stallion still lived did not mean the Goddess’ existence was a lie. Lyra had jumped the gun with her reasoning. I found that to be an apt metaphor given the pistol in her mouth.

Speaking of which, how was she able to speak coherently with that in her mouth? Orchestra could still speak with her kirpan, so perhaps it was simply something mares could do. It was wholly irrelevant to the topic at hoof, but I was still fascinated by it. Or maybe I was only pondering this question to avoid the topic at hoof. As sure as my faith was, I could not discount the possibility that I was wrong.

Shining Armor folded his front hooves, and used them to rest his chin. “While I admit my being alive contradicts the beliefs of mot ponies, it does not mean the gospel I spread is untrue.”

“Discord’s proof,” Lyra countered.

Shining Armor raised an eyebrow. At least, the flesh where an eyebrow would have been raised slightly. “Come again?”

“Discord’s proof. I can have proof that Discord exists if I were to meet him. But I have no means of proving he doesn’t exist.”

I did not follow. I could grasp the concept, but I failed to see how it applied. My assumption was that she was applying a so-called “Discord’s proof” to the existence of the Goddess. Shining Armor could not prove that the Holy Mother did exist but had a way of proving she did not. However, this was a false application. It sounded as if a Discord’s proof was traditionally used as a means of not counting out a possibility. Lyra was doing the exact opposite. It was almost as if Shining Armor was guilty until proven innocent.

“So, I’m guilty until proven innocent?”

“Yes.” Lyra’s grip around Faith tightened. She tilted her head so that the barrel was pointing to the spot in-between Shining Armor’s eyes. “So how about you prove to me that you’re not a liar. In essence, Reverend, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you dead.”
Because he was a stallion of the Goddess! He was my brother in faith. Because he is a pony, Lyra! We cannot just kill ponies because we do not like them. If we did, then we would be no better than the ponies and zebras who spent years destroying both each other and the world around them. Joab was an accident; the ghouls were to protect Lyra. At times it could be justified, but it was still wrong.

I stepped in front of Faith’s barrel. If Lyra wanted to shoot an innocent pony, she could start with me. Which she would not.

“I appreciate the gesture, Symphony, but this is between me and Miss Heartstrings. Would you kindly step aside?”

I turned towards him. His lips were curled in resigned smile. He motioned for me to move with his hoof, and I did so. The smile stayed on his face, even as he stared down the barrel.

“You don’t seem in the mood for false proof, so I’ll tell you the truth.” He chuckled, and I felt my body shudder at the sound. “Which is ironic, because you’re right. I am a liar. As far as I know, my wife died years ago and never became any kind of goddess.”

He was taking an interesting method of defense. I could only assume he was hoping Lyra would not shoot him if he admitted to her accusations. It was a leap of faith to be sure, but it was the only option. It was not as if he were actually telling the truth right now. The Holy Mother not being, well, holy? Such a notion was preposterous.

So why was I feeling so unsure?

Shining Armor turned towards me, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Symphony. My wife stood for a great many things, and I’ve done my best to pass them on for the past two hundred years. It’s kept her alive in a way. And I’ve needed that.” He sighed, and a trial of pink cloud slithered from his mouth. “She will always be a goddess to me. Even if I did stretch the truth on some of the details.”

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Wait.” Carbine pressed his hooves against his head, as if he were trying to prevent his brain from leaking out of his ears. “It is actually bullshit?” Shining Armor nodded, and Carbine replied with the most perfect sentence imaginable. “Holy fuck.”

Shining Armor faced Lyra once more, and spread his forelegs. “Now, Miss Heartstrings, are you going to shoot me or not?”

Lyra was not looking at him however. She was only focused on me. Faith fell to the floor, and she stepped towards me. “I’m sorry, Symphony, but I had to know. It would be wrong to let you go on without knowing the truth.”

She reached towards me, but I had already begun running. I did not know who I was angry with. Lyra for bringing up the lie, or Shining Armor for telling it. I decided to settle on both of them, but mostly on Shining Armor. No, almost entirely on Shining Armor. How dare he call the True Cadanites hypocrites when he was no better. It was impossible for him claim he was a pony of peace and love when his foundation was built upon deceit.

He was right; the teachings of the Goddess were good guidelines for ponies to follow. I was not perfect, far from it. I killed a pony yesterday for Goddess’ sake! But her teachings provided me with a blueprint for my life. One I could trust. Now that I knew it was all a lie, was it still a blueprint worth following? Even if it was, could I now that I knew the truth?

A truth that could have saved ponies I knew and cared about. My life would be so different now without Shining Armor’s influence. I felt my scar burning. So much better.

Before I knew it, I was back in the room where I had awoken. Doctor Zimri was sleeping in the corner. I did not bother saying hello to him. I was more focused on my saddlebag. I knew what was inside. I could almost feel it calling to me. Its voice was cold, yet seductive. A part of me wanted to avoid temptation, but the rest of me was ready to yield to it. As I stared at where Savage lay hiding, I contemplated what I should do with Shining Armor. The Cadanite thing would be to let him go, and continue to follow in the Holy Mother’s hoofsteps. What I actually wanted to do was sounded so much better.

I’m going to kill him.

No, Symphony, you are not.

Yes, I am. He deserves to die.

Nopony deserves to die, Symphony. “Thou shalt not kill,” remember.

Cadance isn’t a Goddess, remember?

That is irrelevant. Just because she does not exist as the Goddess does not mean her teachings should be ignored.

What if I don’t want to follow her teachings?

You are not a killer.

Joab would disagree with that.

Joab was an accident, and you know it. You saw Missile’s face, and your hooves jerked.

No, I did it on purpose. I wanted him dead.

You are not a killer, Symphony.

I killed those ghouls earlier.

That was different.

No, it’s not. Killing is killing.

You did it to protect your family. You said you would not kill unless your family was threatened.

It’s because of him that they’re threatened at all! He’s ruined thousands of lives. Lyra’s. Carbine’s. Missile’s. Sombra’s. Mine! Why should he get to keep his life when he’s destroyed so many others?

Have Faith.

Have faith in what?

There was no response. I doubted there would be. There was no response to that. What was I supposed to have faith in? The Holy Mother? No, no Goddess ever existed. Ponies? Hardly. I had seen a pony shoot a child in the eye. I had met another who had induced thousands into living a life based on a lie. Not all ponies were bad to be sure, but I could never commit to them as a whole.
So what of the few? Lyra, yes, but she already was my reason for living. Even if I were a tad angry at her for the moment. Counting her twice would just be cheating. Carbine to a degree, but it was hard to have legitimate faith in a pony who enjoyed wanton destruction. Shining Armor? The thought of him made me sick. Orchestra? That depended on whether or not she would have killed Missile if she had the chance. If I were being honest with myself, she likely would have.

Myself? Claims of narcissism aside, I saw no point in it. What would believing in myself actually do for me? I could be more confident and have the mindset to justify my every action. It sounded like a life without purpose. Lyra would make it a life worth living, but she would make any life worth it. Even this one. Besides, it was hard to have faith in a pony who had spent the past few minutes contemplating murder. There was no self-defense excuse here. There was no possibility of an accident. I wanted to murder another pony, and I had faith I could pull it off.

Or did I? What did faith even mean? Was it simple belief? Belief beyond doubt? Belief beyond logic? I pulled the case out of my bag, and opened it. The statuette of the Godd—Princess Cadance stared back at me. More of the paint had chipped, and I noticed there was a small crack at the base of her tail. Yet she still stood tall. Even though I knew she was no Goddess, I still felt compelled to do her will.

“Have Faith,” she seemed to whisper.

“I want to,” I replied silently. “Can you show me how?”

She did not. No words, real or imaginary, came from her lips. I set her back inside the case, and stowed her away. Then I stared at it. Savage. I hated that name when I first read it. It seemed a horrible name for a weapon. At least one in the hooves of a child of Cadance. I still was one. A child of Cadance. She had not forsaken me, mostly because it was impossible due to her not existing. Nonetheless, she had not. I could still forsake her, though. I could shun every teaching I had built my life around since I was a boy. I could become an unrepentant killer. It would be so easy too. All it would take was one shot of Savage.

Have Faith.

I did. I was still unsure of what faith truly meant, but I had my idea. Faith was conviction. It was conviction that could be shaken by all the powers of the earth, the heavens, or Tartarus itself. Right now I had a conviction that I felt fit those requirements.

Shining Armor needed to die.

The door swung open, and I heard hoofsteps behind me. I turned my head, and watched as Lyra sat down beside me. She took one look at Savage, and shook her head.

“You’re not gonna do it, Symphony.” She raised a hoof before I could even try to protest. “And you shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it.”

I stood up; my face was aghast. How could she say that? After everything he had done to us? “He is a liar,” I mouthed.

“Yes, Symphony, because all liars deserve to be shot by sniper rifles.”

I did not back down. She knew what I meant, and she knew I knew.

She sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Yes, his circumstances are more extreme, but I still don’t think he should be killed for what he’s done. And I’ll tell you why.” She stood up, and walked towards me. There was no sensuality in her walk, which was a rare occurrence to be sure. Which was odd, because she kissed me immediately. She pulled back, and smiled at me. “Because there’s nothing wrong with spreading the message of love, Symphony.”

That was odd coming from the atheist. Judging from the conversation we had the night Sombra died, Lyra seemed to find great fault in something she saw as a lie. Regardless of the message the lie was spreading.

“I won’t lie, Symphony; I was glad to hear Shining Armor tell the truth. I was glad to be right.” She shrugged, and sighed. “Call me a bitch, but it’s the truth.”

I thought about it. Though I ultimately decided against it. I just did not have the heart to call Lyra a bitch. Even when she was being one.

“But it doesn’t matter that he lied. Just because the Goddess is a work of fiction doesn’t mean her teachings have to be. Loving other ponies. Doing good works. Not killing. That all sounds like a fine life to live.” Lyra placed her hooves on mine, and wrapped her tail around my back. “Besides, if it weren’t for the whole religion thing, then there wouldn’t have been a base at Haven. Your sister wouldn’t have been stationed there, you wouldn’t have visited her, and you and I wouldn’t have met.” She rubbed her hooves against mine, and gently nuzzled my neck. “Can you really want to kill him when he’s the reason we’re together?”

Well, when you put it like that…

She moved one of her hooves to my cheek, and gently caressed me. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him, Symphony. I don’t. We’ve all lost something because of his lies.” I noticed her other hoof rub her broken horn as she said that. “But that doesn’t mean you should become something you’re not. You’re not a killer, baby. And I pray to whatever being is listening that you never have to be.”

Lyra…-I…-I did not know what to think. The Goddess’ teachings were still worth following, but I doubted my heart would be in it anymore. My goal would not be to walk a path of righteousness. Rather, I would be attempting to avoid the dark. With the Holy Mother as my light it had been an easy task. Now I was not so sure. I was just mere moments away from attempting to commit murder. I had strayed so far already!

No. Calm down, Symphony. This is unbecoming of you. You have a light to follow, and her name is Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Rule number one, love Lyra with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. Rule number two, love others so long as they do not wish to harm Lyra. Rule number three, do unto others as you would have them do unto Lyra. Finally, rule number four. Do not kill anything, pony or otherwise, unless it is threatening the life of my family.

Other rules could be added as needed.

Speaking of my family, the door swung open and Carbine burst through the doorframe. “Holy fucking shit, you guys! There’s like a fuckin’ army outside, an—” Carbine stopped talking when Lyra and I simultaneously glared at him.

“You could knock, you know,” Lyra grumbled.

He rolled his eye. Perhaps he rolled both of them, but I had no way of knowing. “As if, Thirteen. Style, remember?” He quickly shook his head. “Anyways, not important. What is important is the couple ten hundred motherfuckers outside with guns. And cannons.” His eye stared off into space for a moment, as he rubbed his chin. Then he shook his head. “Sadly, even I don’t think I can take them on.” His horn glowed, and the replica of Flash’s ray gun hovered beside him. “Not unless Owlowicious here is as badass as Missile said it was.” He paused again, and his eye lit up. “Hey, can I try it ou—”

“NO!” Lyra shouted.

Carbine’s eye widened, and he took a few steps back. Her shouting broke his concentration, and the gun clattered to the floor. “I was just asking,” he muttered, as he levitated it back into his bag.

“I’m sorry. I just...” She closed her eyes, and exhaled deeply. “I just don’t want to lose any more lives. We’ve already lost Sombra and Missile.”

“What about you, Doc? Any suggestions?”

Doctor Zimri made no response. Not even a twitch. Carbine approached him, and roughly shook him to no avail. Now that I bothered to look, I noticed a letter beside the Doctor. I picked it up, and passed it to Lyra. She cleared her throat, and began to read aloud as I glanced over her shoulder.

“Dear Symphony and Lyra,

I regret to inform you that this is where we part ways. Taking that vial of Goddess did more damage to me than I thought, and I am afraid I will not recover.” The next two lines were impossible to read due to tear stains and puddles of pus. “Please, don’t come say goodbye to me. I was never good at them. Especially after Abigail’s passing.” There were more tear stains, but I was still able to make out the rest of the letter. “Never lose sight of each other. For the rest of your lives. Symphony, treat her as if she were the Goddess in the flesh. Lyra, keep him out of trouble. I wish you luck on your travels, and pray your relationship will be ever fruitful. Goddess speed, you two.

Your friend,

Doctor Samuel Zimri”

“P.S.

Tell Carbine to change his bandage regularly. And once the wound heals, tell him not to walk around with an uncovered eye socket. There’s a difference between style and stupidity.”

“P.S.S.

Also, please tell him if he and I meet in the next life that he owes me two hundred bits for the surgery, and thirty for the bandage.”

Not him too. I looked away from the letter, and at my friend’s lifeless body. I was unsure, but I wanted to believe he had died smiling. Just like Sombra had. Funny how history had a way of repeating itself. I placed a hoof on his forehead and bowed my head. Until next time, my friend.

After she had finished reading, Lyra carefully folded the letter and placed it in her bags. She hung her head in a moment of silence. Even Carbine joined in. Though given the furrowing of his brow, he was either did not like being quiet or was confused about something.

Finally, Lyra raised her head and spoke. “Okay, boys, how do we get out of here?”

Carbine raised a hoof.

“If your suggestion is to shoot the ‘couple ten hundred motherfuckers,’ then put your hoof down.”

Carbine put his hoof down.

Though his idea did have merit. I did not know if couple ten hundred meant roughly two hundred, or was simple Carbine speak for a lot of ponies. I might have been able to pick off a few with Savage, and Carbine could fight on the front lines. Lyra was too injured, and too important, to join the battle directly. While the two of us picked off as many as we could, Lyra could set traps using the grenades. We could also lend her some of our ammunition to use as explosives. If all else failed, we could always give Carbine a sample of Goddess. A nigh unstoppable Carbine would win the battle easily.

Actually, no. Those were both terrible plans. One, we had no business defending Tombstone Radio. Sombra had only wanted us to warn Reverend Bones, and we had. I for one would be glad if the CDF wiped him off the face of the Crystal Wasteland. I may not be able to kill him under Lyra’s orders, but I could still condemn him to die. Even if we were obliged to protect him, my strategy would fail. The only sniping position would be the roof. Since Carbine stated our enemies had cannons, I would be blown to smithereens within minutes. If not seconds. He would be killed quickly as well, which would leave Lyra at the mercy of her enemies.

As for Carbine on Goddess, just considering it sent chills down my spine.

No. Our goal should not be to fight. We needed to flee.

I quickly wrote down my thoughts, and presented them to Lyra. “We need to escape. Do you know of any other passageways?”

She crossed her front hooves, while her tail swished idly. “Hmmm. We could sneak out the back gate. Where we buried Missile. That might.…”

Her voice trailed off when she looked at me. Nopony had told me he had been buried. I know I had not been as close to Missile as Carbine and Lyra, but I would have liked to be at his funeral. To say…-to have written some words on his behalf. Yes. We had to go that way. I needed to pay my respects. Doctor Zimri did not want to say goodbye, but I would not be denied a chance to say goodbye to Missile.

I felt Lyra’s hoof on my shoulder. “Then it’s settled. We’ll go see Missile before we go.”

“I’m gonna get ‘im,” Carbine sniffled. Tears fell from his eye, and he was breathing deeply. “I’m gonna kill the motherfucker who killed Bro.”

I wrote something down for Lyra to read to him. “Already beat you to it.”

Carbine’s mouth was hanging slightly open after he heard that. “You? You actually killed a pony?”

I nodded.

“Hahahaha!” He wiped his hoof across his face leaving wet streaks in its wake. “Well, I’ll be fuck damned, Symphy! I’ll make a heathen out of you yet.”

The worst thing was I believed him. But there was no time for self-introspection now. I had a friend to say goodbye to.

The three of us left that room ready to raze anything and anypony in our path. Lyra held Faith in her mouth, while Carbine had Anarchy and Tenacity on standby. I kept Savage packed away, since it would be impossible to hold it and walk at the same time. Seriously, why was there no apparatus for this? All I needed was a saddle to attach him to, and I would be ready to go. Ugh. I just called Savage a him. Carbine-isms.

Instead of wielding Savage, I had the grenades. They had been removed from Missile’s hoodie prior to the burial. Carbine had been so gracious as to lend me the string on his binoculars. With that I had been able to create a necklace of grenades. The benefit was having weapons within reach. However, if a bullet hit one of them, I would likely go boom. It was not the most eloquent way of phrasing it, but I felt the word “boom” did such a stupid death justice.

As we raced down the halls of Tombstone Radio, I caught a glimpse of Shining Armor in his broadcast room. I stopped running, and pulled my radio out of my bag. True, I could have simply listened to him through the walls as I had during his interview with Carbine. But this seemed more fitting. If this was to be his last broadcast, I felt I should listen to it as one.

“Hello, everypony. This is Reverend Bones coming to you live from the Cemetery for the final time.” He chuckled his signature disgusting chuckle. “You see, listeners, every story must come to an end. My ending has been in the making for a long, long time. I’ve been putting it off, but I’m finally ready to write it.

“So here it is, listeners. This is my swan song. My requiem! So I might as well play my favorite tune as the fires of perdition come take me. Goodnight, Crystal Wasteland. Goodnight, faithful listeners. And may the light of Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

Our eyes met for a moment. I could hear the hoofsteps of Lyra and Carbine as they made their way for the exit. I did not follow them immediately. I simply stood there watching him. These were likely to be the final moments of one of the most important figures in Cadanite history. Somepony should watch them.

Shining Armor tipped his hat to me. There was a smile on his face. I had seen a few legitimate smiles on my journey. I felt I knew what they looked like. Yet, I was unable to discern if this was one of them or not. There was no joy in his smile, but there was not sadness either. The only emotion I could feel from it was content.

Despite myself, I returned his smile. Why, I could not say. It just felt like something I needed to do.

Shining Armor leaned back in his chair, placed his back hooves on his desk. His front hooves rested behind his head, and a cloud of pink smoke emanated from his lips. The room was soon full of smoke, and he was out of sight. That was my cue to leave. As I raced to catch up with the others, I could hear the song he had chosen as his requiem coming from my radio.

“Swing low, sweet chariot.
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
“I looked over the river, and what did I see
Coming for to carry me home?
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home?”

I turned down the volume when I reached the backyard. The backyard of Tombstone Radio was a small patch of grass. The grass was as dilapidated as its caretaker, but it was still alive. Though it might not be for much longer. I had taken a couple flights of stairs to get here, so this piece of land was elevated. We were on the top of the hill, and I could see the entire Cemetery from here. Along with Carbine’s “couple ten hundred motherfuckers.” They were too far away for me to discern any faces or manes, but I could tell two things. One, all of them wore CDF barding. In turn, that meant all of them were armed. Two of the soldiers stepped forward. Judging from the faint silver glow, I assumed one of them was a unicorn.

“Reverend Bones, this is General Omri of the Cadanite Defensive Force. I am here under the orders of High Priest Nero and the rest of the Council. We are here to commandeer your radio station and to use this land to establish a new base. You, Reverend, are not our enemy. However.” I heard at least twenty guns cock at that word. “If you resist us, then we will not hesitate to use force. Lethal force if we have to. You have until the count of twenty-five to come out, Reverend. At such a time that I finish counting and you are still inside, I will consider you hostile. Are we clear?”

There was no response. Of course there was not. Shining Armor fully intended on dying today. The General’s threats had no weight at this point. I briefly wondered if he knew that until I realized I could not care less. He was an idiot who had likely devoted his life to serving the ideals of Princess Cadance. What a fool I—he was.

I turned my back on the Cemetery. Coincidentally the first thing I saw was a grave. Missile’s. Carbine sat in front of the grave, and was holding a comic in-between his hooves. The Final Issue.

“Hey, Bro. It’s a real shame you never got to read this. I have no idea what the fuck they’re saying in this thing, but the pictures are awesome! I know you would have liked it.” He closed the comic, and placed it in front of the headstone. He sniffed violently, and gave his head a good shake. “I promise you, Bro. I’m coming back. I’m gonna learn how to read, and then I’m gonna read you this comic. But first I’ve gotta take Thirteen and Symphy across the border. You know those two wouldn’t last a day without me.” His voice cracked. It was quiet, but it spoke volumes.

Lyra tried to put a hoof on his shoulder, but Carbine flinched away and shook his head. “I can’t let him see me like this. I’ll meet you guys further ahead.”

Before Lyra could say anything, Carbine had begun galloping down the hill. Fortunately he had the common sense to run down the side that did not lead to the Cemetery. I was wholly unaware of where it led. Though I supposed anywhere but here was a good start.

“I’ll follow him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Lyra nodded to me, and trotted after him.
That left me alone with the grave.

I approached the stone. The inscription read, “Here lies ‘Missile.’ May he rest in peace.” Short, sweet, and to the point. I placed one of my hooves on the headstone, and closed my eyes.

Holy Mo—whom-or what-ever is listening, I pray that you watch over Missile’s soul. If there is a next life, then I pray he is able to life it to the fullest. That he is given a life long enough to make up for the time he lost here. I pray that he will have a childhood without fear of being sacrificed.

I took a moment to breathe.

Goodbye, you insolent brat. Goodbye, my friend. Goodbye.

“Fire!”

The sound of cannon fire blared. I could imagine Tombstone Radio being blasted to splinters behind me. Yet I did not turn to watch. I continued to sit with my hoof on Missile’s grave until I was ready to leave.

“Soldiers, storm the station! Reverend Bones is now an enemy of the Holy Mother’s Empire! Leave nopony in there alive!”

I suddenly felt the urge to leave.

I slid my hoof off the tombstone, and began to walk after my companions. Then I remembered there was an army behind me, and my walk became significantly more brisk. Some might have called it a sprint. As I raced off into the night, I found the last words of Reverend Bones’ favorite song ringing in my ears.

If you get there before I do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all my friends I’m coming there too
(Coming for to carry me home).

Footnote:
Level Up!
Perk Added: Kill Code (1). You don't enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it's just a chore, like any other.
Damage threshold increases by 10% while in defense of others.

Author's Note

So, yeah, that happened.

As a content note, I would like to make an official announcement. Both Shining Armor and Doctor Zimri are dead. Originally I didn’t want to state that just in case they had a role to play at the end of the story. But after writing this chapter I felt it would be wrong to do that. Both of them are waiting for that chariot. Coming for to carry them home.

On a less sad note, Happy Halloween all! I hope everyone’s has a great evening/night. If you go Trick o’ Treating, then I hope you get lots of candy. If you go partying, have a blast. And if you watch the premiere of Ash Versus Evil Dead, like I hope to, I hope you thought it was incredible. Because, you know, it totally will be.

And, as always, I want to thank Kkat for creating the world. Other authors for their contributions. And for my readers. Thanks a bunch!

1.8: Requiem

1.8 Requiem
“Stand by me. Oh, stand by me.”

I awoke to the sounds of a lyre. Actually, that was a tad misleading. I did not wake up and happen to hear the chords; they woke me up. Though it was no fault of their own. The chords were soft and soothing, almost like a lullaby. The problem was I did not want to be asleep. As it turned out, my subconscious had created a real masterpiece for me tonight. I pray—hoped it would go easy on me next time.

Lyra did not notice me waking, and continued to pluck at her lyre with her hooves. She messed up frequently, and each mistake was rewarded with a flurry of curse words. I still found her music to be beautiful. That was true talent at work.

“Umnumnum.” Carbine rolled over in his sleep until he was pressed against me. Along with the occasional ramblings, he was also a heavy snorer. It was a miracle I had not awakened sooner. He wrapped a hoof around my neck, and rested his head against my chest. “Mhmm. Warm.”

While I was flattered he appreciated my body heat, this was uncomfortable. I gingerly removed his hoof, and backed away from him. His head flopped unceremoniously on the barren earth. It also landed hard. Yet, Carbine was unfazed. He simply nuzzled the ground. It took talent to find that comfortable.

What was his talent again? A bleeding heart adorned his flanks, but what did it mean? He was a good killer; I knew that. Brother Nightshade and Telebrah knew that a little too well. Perhaps his own heart bled, and it was his burden to bear. I was unsure if the bleeding would be literal or metaphorical, but Carbine could probably live through it. I doubted anything could kill him.

What about me? What was my talent? I had always assumed the bird and music sheets symbolized a talent for song. There was no point in being modest; I was a great singer. A damn great singer. A Symphony without song was as broken as a Symphony without the Holy Mother. Funny how that was the first comparison I came up with. It was possible, though, that my talent was more broad or abstract. My talent could be music. Or communication. Or the ability to avoid flying music notes. I sighed internally. Desperation did not suit me. I had spent enough time wallowing in my thoughts. It was time for some social interaction.

I slowly stood up.

Lyra gasped, and her lips folded into a frown. “Sorry. I hope my awful playing didn’t wake you up.”

I shook my head to tell her she did not wake me up. It was a white lie. There was no need to make her feel guilty. I also no longer had a deity to answer to. If it benefited me or Lyra, then there was no reason not to lie anymore. Just so long as I did not turn into Shining Armor. Meeting him taught me the tongue was just as dangerous as a bullet. Possibly even more so. So long as I kept my lies tempered then I should be in the clear.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed briefly, but she did not press the issue. Instead she focused on plucking strings. Her very next note was horribly off key. “Fuck! Why is this so hard?” She threw her lyre on the ground. With a groan, she slammed her back against the dirt. Her hooves flopped to beside her.

I touched one of my hooves to hers. I was not sure what else I really could do.

She cupped my hoof in both of hers, and kissed it. “Thank you, Symphony. I’m lucky to have you.”

I shook my head. I pointed to myself, then to her, and placed my hoof on top of hers. I was the lucky one.

She shook her head in return. “You’ve got it backwards, love. You still love me even though I can’t play anymore. If I recall, it was my music that first caught your eye. It means that you’ve found more than just music to love about me.”

Of course I did. I loved her energy. Most of the time I loved her humor. I loved the joy I felt every time I was in her presence. I loved that she loved me. There was so much more to Lyra beyond her music. I had a plethora of reasons to love her still. Besides, she was slightly wrong. My ear for sure, but her music was not the first thing to catch my eye. There were too many contenders for that title.

I found my gaze sweeping over her. Slowly. Meticulously. Lustfully….

She chuckled. “Do you know why I said yes to you?”

“My dashing wit?” I mouthed.

“Oh, please.” She gazed at me with half-closed eyes, and a grin. “As if you showed any that day.”

Before I could retort, she kissed me. Her front hooves wrapped around my neck, and her tail interwove with mine. I felt our bodies meshing together as we kissed. We were not two ponies in that moment. We were one flesh, bound in love as well as lust. The feeling was even better than a Med-X injection. This was bliss.

Lyra pulled away slowly, a dazed look on her face. Even though we were no longer kissing, there was a string of saliva holding us together. For once, I was happy to have another pony’s fluids in my body. Lyra coyly wiped her mouth, slowly and sensually. She gave her hoof a mighty flick, and severed our saliva connection.

“I gave you a chance because you seemed genuine, Symphony. I’d met plenty of stallions, and some mares, who only wanted me for my body.” She paused, and took the time to rub one of her hooves against her leg. She closed her eyes, and moaned softly. The higher her hoof reached the more her chest heaved, until… -When she opened her eyes, she smirked at me and my glazed hooves. “Not that I blame them or anything.”

I blushed furiously, and looked around for somewhere I could clean my hooves. On second thought, my whole body could use a thorough washing right about now. I wondered how long it would take to scrub off all my embarrassment.

Lyra slinked next to me, and nuzzled my throat. Then she gently pressed her lips against my throat, and put her clean hooves on my disgusting ones. “But when you told me you loved my music, I believed you. I won’t say that I fell for you instantly, but your honesty made me interested at the very least.” She chuckled and added, “Plus, your blubbering was beyond cute.” Before I could contemplate a reply, she gently nipped my ear and whispered. “I wonder if there’s anything I can do to recreate that.”

She took one of her hooves, now dripping with my filth, and used it to rub my chest.

I could not put into words how that made me feel. The best way to describe would be feeling violated and pleasured at the same time. I was not sure if I liked it, but I did not quite hate it either. At the very least, it made me shudder and smile at the same time.

“Seems I’m going in the right direction. I wonder what else I can do to get a reaction out of you.”

I could think of a few things. From the look she was giving me, I could only assume she had quite a few things in mind too.

She kissed my throat a second time, and leaned into my ear to whisper, “But I think you’ve had enough fun for one night. We have the rest of our lives to have fun. I don’t want to use up all my tricks now.”

… Damn.

Lyra yawned, as she rested her head against my chest. “You’re turn to keep watch, sex fiend. If you keep me safe, then I guarantee there’ll be a reward.”

I nodded, and kissed her forehead. I knew what Lyra really meant when she said reward. She would show me one of her tricks. As much as I was looking forward to it, I could honestly say it did not matter to me. She had already given me a reward. And I reaped the benefits every second I spent in her presence.

I gently stroked Lyra’s cheeks as she fell asleep, all whilst keeping my eyes and ears alert. I could hear dogs howling, and an owl’s lonely hoot. I frequently moved my head to spot a potential threat. I had retrieved Savage from my bag after Lyra had fallen asleep. I doubted she wanted to see me hold it after yesterday. Still, I needed it. I promised myself I would kill for Lyra if need be. Experience taught me killing was easiest with bullets.

To my right there was nothing worth describing. To my lef—what was that? As I was turning my head I saw something glint in the distance. It was likely nothing, but it was better to be safe than sorry. I aimed Savage towards the mysterious glint, and peered through the scope.

I could see two ponies in the distance, a unicorn and a pegasus. The unicorn was wearing a flowing brown cloak. He was wearing a hood, but it did not conceal his face. The large binoculars hovering in front of his eyes, however, did. When they floated away, I was able to get a look at his pale blue face. He seemed young, even younger than me. From his posture and the look in brown eyes, he also seemed to be afraid of something. As I moved the scope, I also noticed he had some kind of device on his foreleg.

A similar type of device was on his companion’s foreleg. That seemed to me where the similarities between the two ended. The pegasus’ posture had an air of pride to it, and the grin on her face would be right at home on Carbine’s. The top half of her face was masked by a pair of night vision goggles. She wore red and blue barding, which matched her mane, with a large white “76” on the side. Whatever that meant.

A sleek black saddle rested on her back. Some kind of firearm, most likely a rifle, was attached to it. There was a string extending from the trigger of the rifle that was wrapped around her head like a bandanna. There was a mechanism dangling from the end of the string beside her mouth. Ah. So there was a more convenient way of handling weapons. Clearly, biting down on the mechanism acted as a trigger for the rifle. I needed to ask her where I could find one of these saddles.

But that would have to wait. I could see the unicorn shouting something, and the pegasus readied herself. She pivoted towards my direction, and snatched up the bit. Oh no. Was there something behind me? I glanced behind. Nothing. Then what was sh—

A bullet sailed past my head. It did not touch me, but I felt the heat against my flesh. She had shot at me! She had shot at me, and missed. I doubted I would. Just pull the trigger, Symphony. You can do it.

It was easier done than said.

It was over in an instant. Her life, of course. One moment she was glaring in my direction. The next, there was a gaping hole in her head. I heard the distant echoes of the unicorn’s scream. He turned tail, and galloped. He did not get far. Savage roared for the second time, and the unicorn’s lifeless body collapsed onto the ground.

I then finished checking my left. All clear.

***

The saddle was heavier than I expected. I paced in a circle to get a feel for it. It was not exactly comfortable lugging a large hunk of leather on my back. Not to mention the guns attached to it. I knew I could get used to it though. I would have to. Savage was too awkward to use with my hooves.

I attempted to bite down on the mechanism, but I missed. Wearing the string around my forehead was too uncomfortable, so I adjusted the length and let it dangle off the rifle. Reaching it was more difficult than I anticipated, but I could master it with practice.

I tried a second time. This time, I successfully snatched the mechanism with my mouth. I bit down. I did not want to use up any of Savage’s ammunition while practicing, so only the rifle was loaded. The shot went ride right. I still hit the boulder, but not where I had been aiming. Seemed there would be another skill I would have to practice.

Carbine whistled. “You sure are a shitty shot, Symphy.”

Thank you for the vote of confidence, Carbine. I briefly considered aiming at him. No, terrible idea. I was such a terrible shot he would have just laughed. He would have probably dared me to do it. Besides, guns were nothing to joke about.

Two images flashed in my mind. One of me hugging a young colt. The next of a bullet shattering his eye.

I gritted my teeth, and looked away. I did not know what I was looking away from. I just needed to find something, anything!, to take my mind off of Missile. I found that something in the pegasus’ dead body. Well, it worked. Instead of Missile, my mind decided to focus on another death I had experienced recently. My own.

Melodrama aside, I felt a part of me had died in Tombstone Radio. I did not have to kill these ponies. I could have surrendered and negotiated with them. I could have fled with Lyra and Carbine. If violence had been the only way, then I could have shot these ponies in the legs. Instead, I took their lives. Perhaps being a killer was my new talent. Maybe I would get a set of crosshairs as a new cutie mark.

I glanced down at my flank. There were no crosshairs, or any other new marks. The same old music sheet and songbird remained. That should have felt comforting, but it did not. Regardless of what mark adorned my flank, I was not the same Symphony anymore. I had been baptized in water as a foal. Last night I had been baptized by the fire in Savage’s chamber.

Savage. That name fit me now. It fit much better than Symphony did now with my throat. I would not change my name though. I was used to Symphony. It was what Lyra and Carbine were used to. Well, what Lyra was used to. Carbine would continue to call me whatever he damn well pleased.

I cringed for a brief moment before smiling sadly. I had murdered two ponies, Joab, and a host of ghouls. Yet it was the brief use of profanity which prompted the visceral reaction. Symphony truly was dead; only Savage would find humor in that.

“Find anything good, Thirteen?”

Whilst I had been wallowing in my thoughts, Lyra had been rummaging through the corpses. “Not really sure. There’s a decent knife, and some bullets for the rifle. There’s some spare barding for repairs. Aside from that it’s just junk. A few pieces of paper, empty cans, a leaky canteen, and some bottle caps. There are a lot of bottle caps.”

“Ooh, dibs on the caps!”

Lyra rolled her eyes, and tossed Carbine the unicorn’s bag. “Knock yourself out.” She looked at me, and held up the papers. “Looks like it’s part of a book. Wanna check it out?”

I nodded without even thinking, which caused me to smile again. A legitimate smile this time. I had always enjoyed reading. Accepting reading material on a reflex was proof that not all of Symphony had died.

I took the papers, and scanned them. According to the heading, the book was written by one A. K. Yearling, and was titled, Daring Do and the Balefire Bomb. It was an interesting title; I could give it that. The only problem was the number at the bottom. 178. I did not want to start a story on the one-hundred and seventy-eighth page. Still, I was supposed it was something. I stowed the papers in my bag for the next time I was bored.

“Mrgrgr! This motherfucker is on there tight.” I watched as Carbine attempted to remove the strange device from the dead pegasus. When he was unable to remove it with his magic, he attempted to pry it off with his hooves. Then, with his teeth. Next, with his hooves and teeth. Finally, he sat on his haunches and hit the device with the butt of Anarchy.

Lyra sighed. “Give it a rest, Carbine. We’ve taken enough from them. It’s best we go ahead and move on.

“But I want it!”

Goodness gracious, was he actually whining right now? I rolled my eyes, and began to trot onwards. I had not gotten far when I heard Lyra calling.

“Symphony!”

I turned around. Lyra was grinning at me, and was holding the map in her hooves. “We’re supposed to be going that way,” she said with a tilt of her head.

Right, of course. Onwards, that way.

***

According to the map, there was a waystation a few hours away from us. It was located extremely close to the border with Equestria. Thankfully, it was not marked with a red circle. We were almost there; we almost made it.

There was just one problem. The swarm of bugs in our path. They were too far away to make them out in detail, but I knew they were vulpas. I was not sure what, but there was something inside of me that just knew it to be true. Most likely excess venom that still lurked within my veins.

The three of us crouched behind a large boulder, and watched as they flew past us. Lyra watched them through the binoculars she had pilfered from the dead unicorn. “It doesn’t look like they’ve spotted us. Let’s just wait a few minutes for them to pass.”

I agreed wholeheartedly with that idea. I, for one, was in no rush to experience the effects of vulpa venom a second time.

“You want to look, Symphony?”

I nodded, and took the binoculars from Lyra. Okay, so what did these abominations actually look like? To my surprise, they almost looked like ponies. They had the same body structure, and even had manes and tails. They were smaller than the average pony, about the size of a small cat, though they were not much smaller than Missile. The only major difference were their antennae. Oh, and the extra pair of legs, large massive wings, massive red eyes, and dripping fangs. I felt my insides convulse at the sight of the venom. Yes, I would rather let them pass than fight them.

Then one exploded.

Goop and bug entrails splattered the rest of the swarm. Part of its eye managed to land on my shoulder. The Symphony of old would have contemplated how it had traveled so far. Then, he would have been repulsed and swatted it away. Well, I still swatted it away. Though I was more focused on blowing those bugs out of the sky.

“Run!”

Or following Lyra as she galloped away from the oncoming swarm. That was also a good option.

“Or we can shoot.” Anarchy fired wildly, and struck a few of her targets. “I’m kind of liking my idea, Thirteen.”

“It was your stupid idea that got us into this mess!”

Carbine scoffed, and fired Tenacity. “I only shot one of them. It’s not like I’m to blame for the whole swarm coming after us.”

“Yes! Yes, you are!” She drew Faith, and started shooting. She clipped the right wing of one vulpa, and severed a hoof from another. Unfortunately, most of her shots missed.

Of course they did. She was not used to using her mouth to hold guns. Any skills she had picked up were through magic. I briefly wondered if she could have actually shot Reverend Bones last night.

My attention returned to the situation at hoof when a vulpa spat venom at me. I backpedaled quickly, and just barely avoided being splashed by poison. I immediately fired back. Click. Right, Savage was still empty. I made a mental note to reload it once I had the chance. While Savage was out of commission, the rifle’s aim was surprisingly true. The bullet tore through the spitting vulpa’s neck, and severed its head.

Good, but it was not enough. There was at least a dozen more. I needed something that could vaporize them all at once. I could feel my grin, as an idea formed in my mind.

I removed the pin from one of the grenades around my neck. Green band. Hopefully it worked well on bugs. The grenade dropped from the necklace, and I gave it a good buck. Another vulpa had opened its mouth to spit, and the grenade flew into its mouth. It exploded a second later. A green wave of energy erupted from within the vulpa, and vaporized the rest of the swarm. Their ashes fell like snow onto the ground below us.

Huh. So that was what the green ones did. Good to know.

The sound of a pony being punched turned my attention to Lyra and Carbine.

“You moron!” Lyra punched him again. “You could have gotten us all killed. Why did you shoot that thing?”

He did not meet her eyes as he replied. “Because of Sombra. He died because of their motherfucking poison. So, I thought I’d shoot one. For him.”

“Oh…” Lyra took a few steps back, and nodded solemnly. “That’s very sweet of you. Stupid, but sweet.”

Carbine grinned as he shrugged. “Not really. It just gave me an excuse to shoot something. Not like I can say ‘no’ to an opportunity like that.”

Despite the maniacal grin on his face, I could tell Carbine was hurting. The grin just did not reach his eye. I had seen something similar that day in Camp Terminus. At least this time he was not threatening me with a bottle. However, I still needed to remedy the situation. I did not want to see him like that. I approached Carbine, gazed into his eye, and embraced him.

He chuckled awkwardly. “You don’t have to do that, Symph. Really, I’m good.”

He tried to push me away, but I held him tighter. I may have become a murderer, but I refused to be heartless. At least where my family was involved.

“Symph, please.” Carbine pushed me away, and stood up. “I’m good. Really. I’m just happy to see those motherfuckers get wasted.” Now his grin reached his eye. “You’ve turned into a bad motherfucker yourself, Symphy. I never thought I’d say it, but you might be more badass than me. I need to amp up my game.” He flashed me a wink to go with his cocksure grin.

I had only one response to that. There was only one response to that. I reached out my hoof. He responded with a bro hoof of his own.

“Pfft. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were flirting.” Lyra sauntered towards us, and lightly shoved Carbine away. She wrapped a hoof around my neck, and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Now let’s hurry along and find this place before I get jealous.” There was genuine malevolence in her eyes as she added, “You wouldn’t like me when I’m jealous, Carbine.”

He threw up his hooves, and shook his head. “Symph’s all yours, Thirteen.” He looked at me with mock sadness. “Sorry, Symphy, it never would’ve worked between us. I don’t think I could be in a relationship with two dragons.”

Two dragons? What was h—Oh. I chuckled to myself. He was an idiot, but he was our idiot. I slipped a hoof around Lyra, and kissed her throat. And I would not have it any other way.

***

The waystation was in far better condition than I expected. The walls were intact, most of the windows were not smashed, and there was an actual roof. There was graffiti of course, but I ignored it. I did not care to read such vile filth. Particularly the bits about Celestia’s vulva. Actually, that last bit did make me smile. The content was beyond crude and disgusted me to my core, but there was something to celebrate. The graffiti was about Celestia. She was a known figure in the Crystal Wasteland, but not one worth defiling. This had to have been written by a pony from Equestria! If a pony from Equestria had written something here, then it meant we really were close.

I was overcome with excitement. So much so that I tackled the door open, rather than pushing it open like a rather pony. I landed on my belly with an undignified thud. Well, that was a stupid deci—Bang. My head bolted up, and stared at a rifle. It was dangling from a ceiling fan, and there was a mechanism attaching it to the door. If I had opened the door like a normal pony I would have been shot. Thank the Godd—good thing for outbursts of emotion.

I stood up, and untied the rifle from the fan. It was sleek, well-polished and in good condition. I glanced down at the rifle attached to my saddle. It was significantly more weathered than the weapon in my hooves. I was unsure as to why, but there was something familiar about this rifle. I could have sworn I had seen it before. I doubted it really mattered. All that was important was attaching it to the saddle. It would make a fine companion for Savage.

I felt something thump against my head. Ouch. I turned around, and stared into Lyra’s angry glare.

“You almost got shot.”

“Did I, though?” I mouthed back.

Her gaze softened. “Well, no, but—” I cut her off with a kiss. She tore her face away from me, and shook her head. “No! Bad, Symphony! You can’t weasel your way out of a scolding. Even if you are a fantastic kisser.” She shook her head again, and pointed at me with her hoof. “Just don’t go barging into places like that, okay? Remember what happened the last time we went into a place we thought was abandoned?”

Carbine lost an eye. Lyra her horn. Missile and Doctor Zimri their lives. Me? I lost a portion of my soul when I killed Joab. Honestly, Lyra, how could I forget?

She hugged me close to her, as if she could sense my annoyance. “I just want you to be careful. Okay, babe? I thought I was going to lose you when the Doctor got us out of there. I—”

“Holy fucking shit they have hot water here! And a working shower.”

“—will continue this conversation after a hot shower.”

Lyra sprinted for what I assumed was the bathroom, and nearly tripped over a pile of empty cans. So much for being careful. As I watched her leave, I began conducting a sweep of the waystation. It was certainly dusty, and there was mold growing on the walls. Hopefully the food to be safe to eat. Though dust was to be expected after two centuries. All things considered the waystation held up surprisingly well. I flipped a light switch. Nothing happened. I flipped it a couple more times just in case. Still, nothing happened. There was no electricity. That meant there was no point in checking the fridge in the corner. Actually, on second thought, who knew what kind of goods were stored inside the fridge?

I approached the fridge, careful to avoid tripping over the empty cans. When I reached my destination I noticed something written across the door. “Last warning, cunts.” Pleasant. Also, a warning I planned on heeding. The last thing I wanted was to open the door and die in an explosion. I stepped back until I reached a window. Then I lined up my shot, and fired the saddle. The rifle’s bullet tore through the refrigerator door. Not the exact spot I was aiming for, but it got the job done.

There was an immediate explosion. Luckily it was not big enough to blow off the door. If it had I likely would have been hit by it. I doubted it would have killed or even severely injured me. I suspect it would have hurt a lot though. I opened the door, and inspected the interior of the fridge. What were once fruits, vegetables, and an assortment of condiments had been reduced to multicolored goop. Better the food than me.

I closed the fridge, and cast my eyes elsewhere. I spotted a staircase near the back wall. That had promise. I could hear the water running, so I assumed Lyra was still preoccupied in the shower. Carbine was busy examining an open vent. I prayed there was not a vulpa nest in there. At least, I would have if there were anything to pray to.

I shook my head, and headed towards the stairs. There would be time to mope when we crossed the border. Now was the time for reconnaissance. I had triggered two traps already, and I highly doubted the veracity of the writing on the fridge. If there was a pony hiding in the waystation to ambush us, they would likely be hiding in the basement. While I was not in any hurry to kill another pony, it would be preferable to kill than to die. Or to have Lyra die. Besides, there was always the possibility I could find something interesting down here.

The first thing I noticed was that it was dark down here. Of course it was. It was underground so there was no sunlight, nor did the electricity work. What I would have given for a match. Or a flashlight. Or…-oh, right. I reached into my bag, and retrieved the night vision goggles I had pilfered from the fallen pegasus. I slipped them on with a surprising degree of difficulty. Whomever designed this clearly put no thought into comfort. Though I supposed I should not complain too much since they served their purpose.

My world became a nasty shade of green. My vision was also slightly fuzzier than normal. Thankfully, it was not as bad as being affected by vulpa venom. I slowly made my way down the steps. Good thing too, as I nearly slipped where the stairs started to spiral. Odd design choice. My eyes were slowly adjusting, and the world was becoming less hazy. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs all the fuzz was gone. Sadly, the putrid green shade still remained.

I snorted, as I surveyed the basement. There was a space beneath the staircase, right where the spiral was located. It was large enough for one, possibly two ponies, to sit. Perhaps it was designed that way to give ponies a place to hide. Aside from that spot there were no feasible hiding places in the basement. Three of the four walls were full of crates, while a large heater was located as the other wall. The rest of the basement was a large empty space.

I approached the heater, and examined it. It looked to be a rickety piece of junk. I gently rapped my hoof against it. I swore I could hear the paint peeling off. Yes, this was a piece of junk. There went any plans for spending a warm night with Lyra down here. Though there was a good chance she would have refused even if the heater had been working. There was a rank odor emanating from somewhere. I was not sure how to describe it except to say that it was unpleasant. So much so that I did not want to spend more time in the basement.

But, curiosity was calling. I felt the need to investigate what was in the crates. Despite the odor, I remained in the basement a little while longer. The answer did not surprise me. Not in the slightest. It was booze. All of the crates contained various kinds of alcohol. Wines, beers, whiskey. Champagne. Alcohol had never been an interest of mine, but that was the old Symphony. The Holy Mother’s Symphony. The new Symphony, or perhaps a better name would be Savage, was quite curious to know what all the fuss was about. If I were correct, champagne was a drink used primarily for celebrations. The three of us had almost made it to the border; was there anything better to celebrate? Maybe this time I would actually remember the experience.

I picked up a bottle of champagne.

The bottle was adorned with a graphic of a purple mare with a bunch of grapes for a cutie mark. The mare was drinking from a bottle similar to the one she was featured on, and her face showed nothing but pure ecstasy. The caption read, “Shangri-La: Berry Punch’s Finest.” Her finest? I supposed if I were going to partake in drinking I might as well start with the best.

I stowed the bottle in my bag, along with a couple others. I had the feeling Carbine would down an entire bottle or two by himself. That would leave at least one for Lyra and me to share. Hmm. All we needed was music, and we would have had ourselves a real party.

As if the Goddess herself had…-I needed a new expression. As if on cue, that could work for now, I began to hear some music coming from upstairs. Ask and ye shall receive. I reached the top of the stairs, and found Carbine staring down a large device. It was rectangular, and each side was equipped with speakers. Atop the rectangle was a handle, and a series of buttons. He tapped one of the buttons with his hoof, and the song restarted. He threw his head back with a groaned. “This song sucks. Where’s something kick ass?”

I was inclined to disagree. This song had a nice beat to it, and I could feel the energy. If Lyra were out here she would probably want to dance. I cast a glance over at the bathroom. A veil of mist had formed around the entrance. Given the singing coming from the other end, I assumed Lyra was still taking her shower. Pity. Dancing would have to wait.

I set down my bags and removed my saddle and goggles. Then, I sat down by Carbine. I produced one of the bottles, and offered it to him.

When Carbine tore his gaze away from the music player, I noticed a hard, frustrated, look in his eye. Once his eye fell upon the bottle, the frustration was replaced by gluttony. He even tried to kiss me again. The key word being tried. Instead, I shoved the bottle in his face so he kissed the image of Berry Punch, assuming that was her name, in my stead.

“Haha. Oh, Symphy, you’re the best friend a stallion could ask for.” He held the bottle in his hooves, and removed the cork with his mouth. Like an idiot, he swallowed it. He gave me one of his signature grins, and raised the bottle. “Cheers.” Then he started chugging the purple liquid. Most of it missed his mouth, and dappled his sides. Carbine did not seem to care. He would only stop drinking when he was ready.

“Don’t be so greedy, Carbine. Save some for me too.”

Carbine stopped drinking for the sole purpose of spitting. Of course it landed on me. I normally would have been substantially annoyed, but I was too preoccupied to be upset.

“Holy shit, Thirteen.”

Lyra chuckled, and sauntered towards us. She was not wearing the tight black barding anymore. Instead, she was completely naked. And wet. The water served to accentuate her natural beauty in ways I could not describe. Mostly because I did not understand exactly how the water managed this feat. It just did somehow. Lyra’s mane was pressed against her supple neck, and she sensually shook her head to dry off. This was, in a word, sexy.

Then a new song started. One which sent goosebumps down my spine the instant it started. I recognized it from its first distinctive note, which oozed of funk and soul. Oh, I knew this song well. Lyra did too. She knew it very well.

Lyra threw her head back, and posed seductively. “Symphony. I’m wet. I’m sexy. And I want to dance.” The next thing I knew, she was dragging me towards the center of the room. She put her hooves on my sides, and looked me in the eye. “Shut up and dance with me, Symph.”

The first part of her commandment was easy. The second not so much. Oh, I could dance the tango like nopony’s business. But I found it near impossible to focus on the steps given the song I was listening to. There were other moves it was inspiring me to perform. Lyra and I began to dance. By dance I actually meant her body and mine were so close together it was as if we were becoming one flesh.

Oh yes, I was ready to get it on.

“Hey. Would you two do me a solid and stop fucking each other in front of me?”

I had forgotten about Carbine. I could feel my cheeks burning,

There was no blush on Lyra’s cheeks, however. She raised her head indignantly, not so subtly coughed, and backed away from me. “Very well then, Carbine. I think we can choose a different song.” She leaned in to whisper, “We can save that one for tonight.” She slinked past me, and slapped my backside with her tail.

Ouch! I jumped, partially out of surprise and partially out of pain. Lyra was being frisky. That shower had done wonders for her mood. I found my eyes lingering on Lyra’s flanks as she passed by me. Her shower had done wonders for my mood too. Tonight would be incredible.

Lyra sat down beside Carbine, and I took my place beside both of them as the tip of the triangle. I reached into my bag, and produced two more bottles of champagne. I rolled one to Lyra, and kept the other for myself. Lyra expertly removed the cork with her mouth. I, admittedly, struggled. Perhaps it could be a skill I acquired if I developed a taste for alcohol. On second thought, it was better I did not. Goddess or no Goddess, I still knew the dangerous of alcohol.

But one drink would not kill me.

Lyra took a swig of her drink, and then reached over to touch a button on Carbine’s machine. The track changed to something decidedly less sexy. A more accurate description would be somber. The tune was not quite depressing, but there was something melancholic about it. Almost as if it were pleading to somepony.

Lyra smiled sadly, and began to sing along. But when she gazed at me, and her smile grew exponentially. She raised her bottle to the heavens. “A toast. To the friends who’ve stood by us throughout our lives. May we never forget them.”

“To Sombra and Missile.” Carbine raised his bottle, and clashed it against Lyra’s. “To the only motherfucker crazy enough to take me in. And to the best Bro in the Crystal Wasteland. I…” Carbine took a deep breath, and roughly shook his head. “I know Bonesy said he made up all that Goddess stuff. But if there is a Hot Pink Goddess out there somewhere, she better take my boys in. Or else I’m gonna kick her ass!”

My toast was for two ponies. The first was Doctor Zimri. I did not know him very well, but I felt as if the two of us bonded during our time together. He was a good stallion. One who did not deserve the death he was given. I also echoed Carbine’s sentiments, and hoped that my late friend would find an afterlife to rest in. One where he could be reunited with his beloved Abigail.

The second pony I toasted was Orchestra. I had broken her heart, as well as murdered her friend. She likely hated me now. Possibly even more than she hated Lyra. Even so, she was still my sister. I wanted my sister to be happy. I wanted her to keep her faith, even if it was a sham. At the very least it gave her life meaning. I did want her to leave the True Cadanites behind, though. Hopefully she could find a stallion or mare worthy of her. I doubted I would ever attend her wedding, but I hoped it was every bit as beautiful as she.

For Doctor Zimri. For Orchestra. I touched my bottle to Lyra’s and Carbine’s.

Then, we drank. And drank. And, because there was nopony to stop us, we drank some more. There was something intoxicating about what we were drinking. It was not very good at all, but I felt compelled to keep going. Sombra. Missile. Doctor Zimri. My friends could not partake in this, so I did for them. This was their toast. Their requiem. I would be damned before I would end their requiem early.

***

Seems I would be damned after all. I had fallen asleep before I had finished the bottle. My mind was on the hazy side, but I had a vague recollection of a similar event occurring with my sister. Only there was less vomit this time. I quickly checked my surroundings out of fear of irony. Luckily for me, there was no vomit in sight.

There was music though. It had a slow tempo, and was heavy with synthesizers. There was another sound as well. It almost sounded like kissing. That was preposterous. The only other ponies here were Lyra and Carbine, and they would never do such a th—my eyes fell upon an empty bottle of Berry Punch’s Finest. No, Lyra and Carbine would not do such a thing. Not unless they had a little liquid motivation.

I closed my eyes, and pretended to turn in my sleep so I could eavesdrop.

“Wow. You’re amazing, Thirteen. I can see why Symph loves you so much.”

I heard Lyra sigh. “Carbine, no. I mean, I like you. Really, I do. You’re a bit too batshit for my taste, but you have your charms. And I would love to help you get a kickass mare of your own.”

“But you are a kickass mare! You’re fun, you’re funny. You put me in my place when I do dumb shit. That’s exactly the kind of mare I need. You’re also stupidly hot, but that doesn’t even matter. I just…-ugh, fuck!”

I heard one of the bottles shatter. I nearly sprang and tackled him, but I sensed no apprehension from Lyra. I decided I would not intervene unless I had to. I was ready just in case.

“I might be in love with you, Lyra. And it sucks, because you love Symph. And he loves you. And I love him too and don’t wanna fuck with his shit. But…-fuck! That or I’m just really drunk. Probably that. Either way, I need to shoot something. I’ll be right back.”

“Carbine—”

“Don’t follow me, Thirteen. I just need to be alone with Anarchy and Tenacity for a bit. We need to reaffirm our three-way love for each other. I’ll come back when I’m tired. Or hungry. Whichever comes first. Just, promise not to tell Symph about me kissing you, okay? I don’t want to piss him off. Especially now when he might actually shoot me.”

I was considering it.

“I promise. Just as long as you promise not to do anything stupid while you’re out there, okay?”

“Pfft. Thirteen, when have I ever done anything stupid?”

I heard the sound of his magic as he collected his guns, the sound of his hoofsteps, and the creaking of the door. Then, nothing but Lyra’s breathing. Then I heard her hoofsteps, and felt her warmth as she lay down beside me. Her hooves wrapped around my chest, and she rested her head on my neck.

“I’m only gonna say this once you big lug, so you better listen up.” She paused for a while. It was as if she were being extra careful with her word choice. Odd considering she thought I was asleep. “I love you, okay? I’ve loved you for a long time.” Her hooves slipped away from my chest, and fell onto the hard ground. “I never told you this, but I noticed you first. I remember seeing you walking through the streets of Haven, and going into that cafe with your sister. And you were so cute; I really wanted to say ‘hi.’ But I didn’t.

“You were a crystal pony, so you were already in a different class. Plus I thought you were with your girlfriend. And since she was wearing her CDF uniform, I knew that was a fight I did not want to start.” She took a moment to chuckle. “Then you approached me. And you were such a mess. At first I thought your girlfriend had asked you to pull a prank on me, and you were just a really bad actor. But once I saw that look in your eye, I knew you were serious. You weren’t a bad actor; you just had no game.”

Of course. It was not a true Lyra monologue without some form of playful insult.

“But, even though you really were interested, I never thought I was good enough. You were going places, Symphony. You were going to join the CDF choir, and you had the talent to make it big. You would have retired from the military, and still had a successful career. Fame, luxury, mares! They would have flocked from all over to see you. You wouldn’t have to stay faithful with so many options.

“But you would have. Because you’re a good pony, Symphony. Sure, you can be a bit on the judgmental side. And that can lead to you being an asshole from time to time. But your heart was always in the right place. You were a true disciple of Cadance. Meanwhile, I was flirting with ponies in the streets just to make some quick cash. Just another heathen harlot living in the streets of Haven.”

She lifted her hooves back up, and used them to embrace me tightly. “I’m thankful, Symphony. I’m so thankful that of all the options I know you had, you still chose me. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough for you. And I know that one day you might meet a mare who’s better for you in every way. But until that bitch comes to steal you away, you’re mine and mine alone.”

Yes. Yes, I was. I opened my eyes, and turned to face her. Her eyes widened briefly, but then smiled sheepishly at me.

“So, I guess you heard all that, huh?”

I could have nodded. I should have nodded. But, alas, I was drunk. Or at the very least slightly intoxicated. Regardless of my official state of mind, I was in a state where I was inclined to make uncharacteristic decisions. So, I did. I took one of my hooves, and gently booped Lyra on the nose.

Neither of us said anything. Well, obviously I said nothing. Lyra’s silence was by choice. Then I noticed her mouth twitch into a grin, and she burst out laughing. “You’re such a dork.”

I felt my face scrunch at her comment. I was not a dork. I was…-too intoxicated to think of a proper antonym. But I was not a dork.

She sighed playfully, and kissed me on the cheek. “But you’re my dork, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then she kissed my lips briefly. When she pulled away, her grin was much wider. “Now that Carbine’s gone, we can play our song.”

I could feel my blood rushing to my head as she spoke.

“Here’s the plan. I’ll go downstairs. Get some more champagne. And you can have our song playing when I get back. And then.” She winked at me. “You know how it goes.”

I knew exactly how it went. A bit of foreplay, followed by scant kisses. Then the sensual, satisfying, kisses. And then the—I took a deep breath. Calm down, Symphony. Lyra was the love of my life, and not a piece of meat. Even if we were both in the mood for carnal rutting, she deserved to be treated and viewed as the magnificent mare she was.

That all being said, I could not help but leer at her while she walked past me.

As she walked towards the staircase, she took a moment to pause. “Huh, how convenient.” She leaned down, and picked up what looked to be a matchbook. “Matches. This way I can actually see down there.”

I pointed to the night vision goggles.

She scoffed, and waved her hoof at me. “Please, Symphony. Do you honestly think I’d wear something that clunky? Carbine might be a moron, but he’s right about one thing. You’ve gotta have style!” Lyra winked at me again, and walked down the staircase with the matchbook.

While she was gone, I had my own duties to attend to. I stood up slowly, and stumbled towards the music player. Yes, I was most definitely slightly intoxicated. That was not fun. Okay. Let us see. Where was our song? I pushed the skip button about seven times. There were a few tunes I recognized, some I did not, but after the seventh time I stopped. I instantly recognized the track that was currently playing. "The Starlight Sonata". The song I associated with my sister.

Something in my brain clicked, and I became very worried. Orchestra should have been hot on our trail after Joab’s death. I doubted all the forces of Tartarus could have slowed her down after finding her comrade’s body. If that were the case, then why had she not caught up to us? We had taken a detour to Tombstone Radio, but they had a tracker with them. I was unsure of how adept Purity was, but I assumed she could have followed us there. But she had not. I would have recognized my sister if I had seen her amongst the soldiers. Even from that far a distance I would have known it to be her. Orchestra was not behind us anymore, was she? She was in front of us.

I picked up the rifle that had nearly killed me. Now I knew where I had seen this before. This was Joab’s rifle. They had set it up, hoping he could get one last kill. Possibly self-vengeance. What else had Orchestra done while she was here? And where was she now? What about Carbine? Was he safe? Was I? Was Lyra?

No, she was not. Of course there were matches by the entrance to the stairs. It was a genius plan. The matches seemed innocuous enough, and would provide light in the dark basement. They had known we would go exploring the basement at some point, so they had planted the matchbook. I remembered the priest had one in the church, so it was likely his. It also served to explain the rank smell in the basement. I had failed to realize what I had smelt was a gas leak. That room was full of flammable gas. And Lyra was about to light a match.

I ran after her. I screamed as loud as I could. I would never know what, if any, sounds I was making. I could hear nothing over the sound of my blood pumping in my veins. Nothing over the sound of the screams in my head.

Nothing over the explosion in the basement.

The force knocked me backwards. I slammed into a wall, and could feel the heat of the burning flame. But I wouldn’t be deterred. I didn’t care if my body hurt. I had to save Lyra. Let her be okay. Please, Holy Mother. Shadow Goddess. Celestia. Somepony, please!

I grabbed the goggles, and slapped them on as quickly as possible. Then I raced to the stairs. I stood at the top of the staircase, and looked upon what remained of my beloved. There wasn’t a body. There were barely even body parts. There was blood everywhere. Blood, flesh, entrails. One of her legs rested at the bottom of the staircase. I took a step, and heard a squish. Oh, no. I lifted my hoof, and gazed in horror at the remains of one of Lyra’s eyes. One of her beautiful, beautiful, eyes.

Lyra… Lyra… LYRA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO! NO! NO!

I bashed my head against the wall. Come on, you bastard, wake up! WAKE UP! This was a nightmare. That was the only possibility. Lyra couldn’t be dead. Not her. Anypony but her. Sombra, Missile, Doctor Zimri, Cadance! Carbine, Orchestra! Kill them all! Just give me her. That’s all I needed. Just her….

I collapsed onto my stomach. I could feel the blood pouring down my face. I couldn’t tell if it was my blood or Lyra’s. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t long for this world anyways. Orchestra would come soon. She would rant about some divine judgment bullshit, and then she would burn me. Go ahead, cunt. Do your worst. But know this. I’ll only give you one shot before I fight back.

No. Orchestra already had her one shot. And it came from Joab’s rifle. That’s right. The rifle.

I pulled myself to my hooves, and retrieved the rifle. I gave it a brief check. There was only shot left. That was fine. I only needed one. I walked towards the door, and stood directly under where the gun had originally been positioned. I aimed the barrel at the door, and waited for my sister to open it.

Footnote:

Level Up:

New Perk Added: Master Blaster! You really know your way around things that go boom. Keep up the good work, and make sure you don't die from your own stick of dynamite.

Explosives increased to 50.

Author's Note

As always, I want to thank Kkat for creating the world. Other authors for their contributions. And for my readers. Thanks a bunch!

Originally, I was going to include song lyrics in this chapter, but my editor decided against it due to copyright laws. So, I thought I’d say what the songs were. “September” by Earth, Wind and Fire. “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye. “Stand By Me” by Ben E. King. “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell.

And speaking of songs, I was listening to "Candle In The Wind" while uploading this chapter. I think that's a good requiem for Lyra. Boy, that scene at the end was not easy to write...

On a happier note, how 'bout that finale though?! It's my personal favorite so far, largely due to Starlight Glimmer. I honestly think she's my favorite character at this point. I'm not sure how I feel about her becoming a new mane character, if that's what they are going for, but I am happy that I'll get to see more best pony.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

1.9: Elegy

1.9 Elegy
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?”

“Little brother, we need to find you a mare.”

“No, thank you.” I grunted. “I need time to get over my feelings for Starfall before I can even begin to contemplate a new relationship.” I picked up my tea cup and sipped from it. I set down the cup, and shot my sister a glare as sharp as her kirpan. “This is all your fault, you know?”

‘Chestra rolled her eyes. “Yeah. It’s my fault for setting you up with a mare whom you dated happily for a year.” She gazed at me flatly. “If you liked her you should have proposed. Or at the very least not have been such a jerk. It’s not my fault you’re an idiot.” Orchestra finished her indictment of me by taking a large bite of her mushroom burger, and spilling ketchup on her uniform.

“You are dripping by the way.”

“Huh?” She looked down, and her eyes bulged. “Oh, horseapples!” She dropped her mushroom burger back onto her plate, and replaced it with a hoofful of napkins. She vigorously wiped at the ketchup until not a trace of a stain remained.

“Phew.” She leaned back in her chair with her legs draped over the edges. “I have an inspection in two days. Sarge would ha—hey, what’s wrong?”

She must have noticed my frown. I roughly shook my head. “There is nothing wrong.” Yes, there was. I was going to miss her. My sister and I rarely saw each other now that she was in the CDF. She would be staying here in Haven tonight while I returned to our old and empty house. It was just so quiet without ‘Chestra.

She put her hoof on mine and smiled. “I miss you too, Symphony. Every day.” Her smile turned into a grin as she added, “Which is exactly why we need to find you a mare before I go. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into without me to look after you?”

“I could say the same for you. Without me that ketchup would have stained by now.”

Her lips twitched briefly, and I heard her mutter something about her “smartass brother.” I replied by smugly sipping my tea.

“Would you like a refill on that, sir?”

A pretty, young, earth pony mare stood beside our table. She was balancing a tray with a pitcher of black tea on her rump. I could only hope it also contained honey.

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Of course!” she grabbed the pitcher with her mouth, and poured my cup to the brim with black tea.

I inhaled, and took in the sweet scent of honey. This was going to be divine.

She placed the pitcher back onto the tray, and looked at Orchestra. “Ma’am, may I get you anything else?”

The left half of Orchestra’s face scrunched up. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay then. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

As the waitress trotted to another table, I noticed ‘Chestra’s eyes following her. Though I could not tell if I were seeing lust or wrath in her gaze.

“She is quite cute,” I muttered.

My sister’s gaze returned on me. Wrath. Definitely wrath. “You’re not honestly interested in her kind are you?” she whispered aggressively.

“Her kind?” Since when did Orchestra have a problem with earth ponies?

“Keep your voice down,” she shot back. She glanced around the café, but nopony else was paying attention to us. She leaned in closer, and motioned for me follow suit. Once I had she whispered back, “Non-crystal ponies.”

Non-crystal ponies? She had not started listening to that bigot Nero, had she? “Yes, ‘Chestra, because non-crystals are a scourge upon us all.” It took all my effort to not roll my eyes.

“But they are.” She spat her words like venom. “I’ve been listening to High Priest Nero a lot lately an—Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

I snorted, and took another sip of tea. Orchestra immediately took to defending Nero, but I paid her no mind. I had no desire to hear praise for a madpony. Besides, there was something far more entrancing to listen to.

There was music in the air. A ludic melody played on strings. Likely a lyre. It was not a tune I recognized, but I still found myself humming along. I even began drumming my hooves against the table.

Orchestra slapped me hard. “The least you could do is pay attention when I’m talking to you.”

I massaged my cheek, and glared back. I could admit to being a tad rude. Did that really justify such violent behavior, though? Honestly, what were they teaching her at boot camp?

“Sor—”

I stopped speaking because there were no more words. It was as if I had lost my ability to speak. The music had been gradually getting closer, and now I knew why. A unicorn mare cantered down the street with a golden lyre levitating beside her. She was clothed in a striking red dress, with streaks of gold and green around her shoulders; she also had a light orange shawl that trailed behind her as she passed. She twirled once, and I noticed she was wearing an emerald pendant around her neck and a gold earring.

It was then that I saw her eyes. Each eye resembled a topaz that had been dipped in sunlight. Try as I might, I could not tear my eyes away from the performing unicorn. I knew it was wrong for a stallion of Cadance to stare at a mare, but this was different. I found her to be beautiful in a tasteful way.

For a brief moment our eyes met. It was brief because I immediately averted my eyes. She caught me leering at her! Er, leering was not quite the right word given my lack of lust. Still, I felt I should be embarrassed. All the more so because I wanted to gaze upon her again. I looked back at the mare. I received a smile and wave in return.

I tried to smile back. The key word being tried. I felt my lips contorting, but the end result did not feel like a smile. Perfect. She likely thought I was making faces at her. Any latent courage I may have had was gone at that point.

Hearing my sister’s sigh returned me to our current conversation. Her front hooves were crossed and tapping against the table. Aside from her tapping, there was complete silence between us. There was a mixture of irritation and anger in her eyes. I could feel the apprehension in mine. A scolding was on the horizon. Or, perhaps not. Instead of berating me for not paying attention, Orchestra’s eyes softened and she grinned at me.

“Is she pretty?”

I nodded. I found the words beautiful and ravishing to be more applicable. But, yes, she was pretty.

Orchestra tilted her head in the mare’s direction, but did not turn back to look at her. That was probably for the best given the mare’s lack of crystalline features. “Go get her, little brother. If she’s pretty enough I might even forgive you for being so rude earlier.”

Sounded like a good plan to me. I needed to compose myself first. The last thing I wanted was to start blubbering like an idiot. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath, and had a long sip of my tea. When I opened my eyes, I saw my sister’s slightly irritated expression.

“Well?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Worry not, ‘Chestra. I will see if she has a sister.”

The irritation on her face was immediately replaced with embarrassment. Her golden complexion had taken on a few shades of pink. Particularly around her cheeks. This was my cue to leave. I did not want her to come back to her senses, and be mad at me again. I quickly made my way out of the cafe and into the street.

The mare danced through the street with her lyre beside her. Ponies on all sides stomped and whistled as she passed by. Many of the onlookers threw bits and flowers in the dancing mare’s wake. I could not help but notice most of them were stallions. A few mares had joined in, but most mares looked on with disgust and envy in their eyes.

The mare would sporadically turn and blow kisses to the crowd. During one such moment, our eyes met. I knew it was all part of the show, but I felt as if that kiss was for me and me alone. As a result, I completely lost my composure. My body felt hot, and I found myself adjusting my collar. Beads of sweat cascaded down my face. There was so much sweat even my mane was becoming drenched. I had no chance at all. This mare was beautiful and popular. I, on the other hoof, doubted my ability to form a coherent sentence.

I turned away from the beautiful mare. I had better things to do than make a fool of myself. Spending time with my sister, for example, was a far better option. At least it was until I saw my sister frowning back at me from the window.

“Well?” she mouthed.

“Well, what?” I returned.

She sighed loudly, and shook her head at me.

I had a feeling I knew where this was going. If I stayed with Orchestra without trying, then she would never let me live down my cowardice. If I were rebuked by the dancing mare, my sister’s tongue would be comforting rather than stinging. My decision came down to one simple question. Whose words would sting more: a beautiful stranger’s or my sister’s?

Was there ever any doubt?

I turned back towards the mare, and broke into a full gallop. I paid no attention to where my hooves where stepping, and felt the prick of thorns. Still, I kept running. I heard ponies shouting at me. Others pelted me with fruit. Clearly suitors were not encouraged.

The mare turned around, and stopped playing. She watched me approach with an unreadable expression. Which, of course, was better than outright disdain. I skidded to a stop in front of her and…-I froze. I had been so caught up in avoiding Orchestra’s displeasure I had neglected to form a plan. I started sweating again. Come on, Symphony, you can do this. Start by introducing yourself.

“Ma’am.” My voice cracked, and I quickly cleared my throat. I heard malicious chuckles around me, but I pressed on. “Ma’am,” I repeated in my usual baritone. I placed one hoof over my heart and bowed to her. “May I just…”

When I raised my head, I saw her smiling at me. Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she asked, “May you just what?”

I was at a loss for words again. What did I want to say? Should I compliment her? On what? “I… I, er, um… I…” Phenomenal diction, Symphony.

“Yes?” she asked. She took a step closer, and touched hooves with me.

“I…” It was then I noticed her lyre hovering just off the ground. Now I knew what I wanted to say. “May I just say that the only thing here lovelier than you is your music. And I would love to hear you play it for me sometime.”

She gasped, and stepped away from me. “You’re asking me for a private performance? And we’ve only just met!” She narrowed her eyes at me, and disdainfully turned her head. “What kind of mare do you take me for, sir?”

“That is not what I meant. I only—”

I was silenced when she touched her hoof to my lips. The mischief in her eyes had spread to her smile. “I know what you mean; I’m only teasing. You’re going to have to get used to that if you want to be my beau.”

“I never said that was my intention, Miss…”

“Lyra.” She extended her hoof. “Lyra Heartstrings XIII.”

I took her hoof. “Symphony. Now, Miss Heartstrings—”

“Just Lyra, please.

“Very well, just Lyra.” To my delight, and surprise, she chuckled at my terrible joke. “I am afraid I do not know you well enough, or frankly at all, to say I intend on you becoming my paramour. But I am sincere when I say I find you to be a beautiful mare, and an even more beautiful musician.”

She rolled her eyes, and scoffed. “Sure, Symphony, that’s what they all say.”

Before I could attempt to convince her of my intentions, I recognized the mischief in her eyes. She truly was a teaser. I did not know if I would be able to deal with that. I was honestly interested in her music, but perhaps it would not be worth getting involved with such a mare.

Lyra craned her neck, and kissed me on the cheek. “If you’d like to get to know me better, then take me to dinner Friday night.” She cocked her head towards the café I had just exited. “I’m friends with the owner, so it’s on the house. All you have to do is show up around eight.”

“Sounds eigh—er, great. Sounds great.”

She half-smiled and half-grinned at me as she stepped away. “I’ll see you then, Symphony.” She blew me a kiss, and continued her parade through the streets.

Around me ponies were shouting. I could not tell if they were compliments directed at her or insults directed at me. I was only faintly aware of being pelted by more fruit. Only two thoughts filled my head in that moment. One, I had landed a date with the single most beautiful musician in all of Haven. Two, she had a tremendous backside.

***

I was there at seven forty-five. The last thing I wanted was to be late and give the impression I was not interested. I might have told her I was not yet interested in being her beau, but I had changed my mind. Mostly because Lyra had been my mind the past few days.

Her face continued to find its way into my mind, and she had been a frequent visitor in my dreams for the past three nights. The dreams had been wholesome, of course. One such dream had been the two of us spending the night together walking and talking. It had been a literal dream date. I had told that to Orchestra, but she only rolled her eyes at my joke. Some ponies had no sense of humor.

I started to pace in a circle. I was sweating again; I found I did that frequently whenever Lyra was on my mind. I wanted to make a good impression on her, but I was unsure of what I should do. Good Goddess, I was unsure of how to even greet her. I could be coy and pretend to be surprised to see her. I could be an immediate gentlecolt, and express my gratitude at her coming. There was also the option of not treating our encounter as a date and treat this as a rendezvous with a friend.

But what if she did not show up? There was a distinct possibility I would return home with my hopes crushed and my heart broken. Or she could show up and I would be unable to function. I was barely able to speak when I was around her last time. She could be so thoroughly unimpressed with my inability to communicate the date could be over in less than a minute.

Now I was unsure of what I was more nervous of: her showing up or not at all.

“You’re early.”

I turned around and there she was. She wore a simple sky-blue dress with dark blue and green trimmings. Instead of the large gold earrings, white studs adorned her ears. She curtsied for me, and I returned it with a bow. She chuckled, and held out a hoof for me.

I took her hoof, and kissed it. “Tis the early bird that gets the worm.”

“Oh, so that’s what I am to you?” She lowered her gaze. “Just a lowly dirty worm?”

“No. All I meant was…” I stopped when I noticed her grinning at me. Right, she had warned me of her teasing tendencies.

“I’m only teasing you.” She locked hooves with me. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The two of us entered the establishment and I immediately noticed how empty it was. There was not a single patron at the café. I noticed a few employees standing around chatting. However, once they noticed us the chatting stopped. Most of them disappeared, I assumed to take their places in the kitchen, leaving only the waitress who waited upon Orchestra and me the other day.

“Good evening. My name i—”

“Enough with the crap, Honeydrop. Do you still have that bottle of Spike?”

“The dragon whiskey? Are you sure? It’s a little strong?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Give us two glasses and leave the bottle.” Lyra grinned at me. “How does a little whiskey sound to you, Symphony?”

“Personally, I would rather have a glass of water.”

Her grin faded into a slight scowl. “Not a drinker, huh?” She sighed. “Never mind then. Two waters and an order of braised apricots.”

“With the mango puree?”

Lyra’s eyes rolled back, and she let out a soft moan. “Sweet Goddess above, yes!” She glanced at me with a wary expression. “You’re not allergic to mangos or anything are you?”

“Not at all.”

Lyra pointed at the waitress and winked. “Mango puree it is!”

The waitress nodded. “There’s already some water on the table, and I’ll bring the food right over. Enjoy your date, Lyra” She flicked her eyes towards me and looked me up and down. “Or somepony else will.”

I felt the sweats starting up again. It certainly did not help that the waitress was quite cute. I also noticed Lyra’s eyes twinkling in my peripheral vision. She slid a hoof around my neck, and pulled me close to her. “Don’t get any ideas, Honeydrop. This hunk of a stallion is all mine for the night.” Her lips snaked into a sly grin. “Maybe a few more nights to come.”

Honeydrop shook her head with a sigh. “Have fun, you two.” She smiled politely at me, before trotting to the backroom.

Lyra led me to a table by the window. A candelabra stood on the windowsill with five lit candles. The table was covered with a pristine white tablecloth, a small vase with flowers, and two tall glasses of water. I approached the chair closest to us, and pulled it out for Lyra.

“Handsome and well-mannered. I think I found a keeper.”

“You do not seem so bad yourself.” I sounded significantly more confident than I felt. But that was a good illusion to keep up. I took my seat across from her, and started talking before I could get too flustered. “Tell me about yourself. Why did you become a musician?”

“Family tradition. My mom played the lyre, and her mother before her, and….” She waved her hoof in a circle. I assumed she was trying to insinuate the tradition continued for many more generations. Given her name, I assumed the number to be around thirteen. “And what about you, Symphony? What do you do?”

“I sing.”

“Oh really?” Lyra leaned forward with a gleam in her eye. “Would you sing something for me?”

I hesitated before answering. I had no qualms about performing, but the way she looked at me gave me pause. It also caused me to sweat a little more. Still, I did not want to deny her request. After hearing her perform, singing would be the least I could do.

I took a deep breath, and began to sing. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my jo. For auld lang syne. We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”

She clopped her hooves together the instant I had finished. She scooted away from the table, and stood on her back legs. “Brava!”

I smiled awkwardly as the blood rushed to my cheeks. “You flatter me, Miss Heartstrings.”

Her eyes rolled, and she sat back down. “Don’t call me that. This is a date, not a business meeting. Just Lyra.” She paused, and she waved a hoof at me. “And don’t call me, ‘Just Lyra’ either. It was funny the first time, but a joke is never as funny the second time.”

“Then Lyra it is and ever shall be.”

“Ever shall be? But that leaves no room for nicknames. Like snuggle-wuffikins. Or cum-bucket.”

I picked the worst possible time to start drinking my water. I spat it out, and began coughing. Both Lyra and the candelabra were in the splash zone. The candles were doused, while Lyra was only slightly dampened.

She rubbed her face, and flicked the water off her hoof. “Seems you’re already wanting to get me wet.”

I rolled my eyes. I knew she was trying to make me blush, but this attempt was not as good as her others. I ignored her comment, and took the conversation down a different path. “You said music has been a family tradition. Did your mother teach you to play?”

She shook her head. “Nope. She was too busy sleeping with the highest bidder to pay me any attention.” She took a sip of her water. “After she died, I picked up her lyre and just started playing. I was terrible at first.”

“That she was!” a voice called from behind me.

“Nopony asked you, Brick Oven!” Despite her harsh tone she was chuckling. “It took me a few years, but I learned to be good enough to make a living. Brick Oven took me in when I sucked, so I still try to support him whenever I can.”

“Yes. I can imagine giving us a private and free evening is doing wonders for his business.”

Her eyes gleamed at me. “You snarky little bitch.” She took another sip of her water. This sip was much longer than the other, and she did not take her eyes off of me for a moment while drinking. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

“Here you are. Braised apricots with mango puree.”

Honeydrop presented us with a long plate. On the plate sat seven apricots. Each was drizzled with sugar, ginger, and a touch of saffron. At the end of the plate was a sauce bowl. A creamy golden substance lay within the confines of the bowl. It looked closer to a painting than a fruit based pulp. The whole meal was almost too beautiful to eat. It was as if the Holy Mother herself had blessed this meal.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

“Maybe some privacy,” Lyra stated with a wink.

Honeydrop sighed. “Fine, but I expect to hear all about it later.”

“Trust me, you will.” Lyra gave me an apologetic smile once Honeydrop had disappeared. “Sorry, but Honeydrop is almost like a sister to me. She’ll kill me if I don’t tell her everything.”

I shrugged. “By all means. I suspect my sister will want a report from me as well.”

Lyra rubbed her hooves together, and ran her tongue across her lips. “I would love to ask you about your sister, but I’ve got to take a bite first. Ooh, this is going to taste so good.”

“Do you mind if I pray over this first?”

Lyra raised an eyebrow at me, and shrugged. “By all means.” She folded her front hooves together and closed her eyes.

I did the same. “Holy Mother, we thank you for this day and for the time you have given us to share with each other. I pray that you will take this food and bless it to our bodies. I thank you for the owner and staff of this establishment for accommodating us, and pray that you will bless them. And I pray that you will watch over Lyra, and she will know your voice when you speak to her. In your holy name I pray, amen.”

“Amen.”

There was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in Lyra’s “amen.” It came off as more of a grunt than a legitimate word. When I opened my eyes, I noticed a listless expression in her eyes. Given how she looked quite excited about her mango puree before my prayer, I took it she was not fond of my action. “I gather you are not a believer.”

“That’s a vague statement.” She lifted a fork with her magic, and stabbed it into one of the apricots. She placed the apricot into the mango puree and spun it around until the apricot was fully coated in mashed mango. “I’m a believer in a great many things. I believe the sky is generally blue. I believe that Equestria was once a thriving country before the war. And I believe that this apricot is going to be delicious.” She punctuated her statement by biting the apricot off the fork. Her face instantly relaxed into a look of pure bliss. She swallowed, and smiled at me. “Looks like I was right.”

“Then allow me to rephrase. I gather you are not a believer in the Holy Mother?” I followed Lyra’s lead, and swirled an apricot in the puree before taking a bite. It turned out she was right. This combination was simply divine.

Lyra set down her fork, and looked me in the eye. “I’ll be straight with you, Symphony, I’m not a believer in the concept of a Goddess. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“It does not sit right with you? May I inquire as to why not?”

She pointed with her hoof. I looked to where she was pointing and saw Honeydrop cleaning a table at the far end of the café. “Honeydrop is one of the sweetest mares I’ve ever met in my life. I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anypony, she always works hard, and has one of the most pure smiles I’ve ever seen. In short, she’s the type of pony who should be getting blessings from a goddess.

“But instead, she spent the past four years of her life trying to support her drunken and abusive father. A father, who I might add, regularly went to church. And no matter how bruised or broken his daughter looked, not a single pony tried to help her. So you tell me, Symphony, where’s the Goddess in that?”

I took a long drink of my water before I responded. “It is not my place to question how the Holy Mother works.” Lyra scoffed and rolled her eyes, but I continued. “However, while I do not believe it is the Holy Mother’s place to intervene in the lives of us mortals that does not provide an excuse to the ponies in the congregation for not helping.”

“So you don’t think the so-called Goddess is responsible for all the fucked up shit that happens in the world?”

“No. I do not.”

An intense silence befell the two of us. I was unsure of what to say, so I ate another apricot. I did not take my eyes off of Lyra as I chewed on the apricot. She stared back with an unreadable expression. The two of dined quietly until she finally sliced through the silence.

“This isn’t going to work, is it?”

I was in the process of eating another apricot, so I simply raised my eyebrow to inquire further.

“You and I. I can tell your religion is very important to you, and my lack of religion is important to me as well. I don’t know if that’s something we’ll be able to overcome.” She stood up, and curtsied. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Symphony. May the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

As she began to trot away I began to ponder what she had said. Yes, my faith in Cadance was important to me. It was as essential to my being as being as my voice; I could not imagine my life without it. I had never once dated a pony without faith, nor could I recollect having many non-believing friends either. But that did not mean I had to live my entire life without having non-believing friends. The only question was if there was something Lyra and I could bond over despite our religious differences.

I began to hum. It was a classical tune and one of my personal favorites: Bolero. My initial interest in Lyra had come from her music. If there was anything the two of us could start a bond over, music would have been it. I turned around, and noticed she had stopped walking away. She was facing me with a smile on her face. I had her attention at the very least. I could work with that.

I continued to hum as I approached her. I bowed to her, and extended my hoof. She took my hoof, and the two of us began dancing. My humming was performed in crescendo, and the more intense the humming the more intense our dancing became. I twirled Lyra, dipped her, and lifted her. Those tango classes were surprisingly paying off.

I was sweating by the time I reached the end of the song. Lyra was breathing heavily as well with her body was pressed up against mine. I could feel a deep warmth in that moment. Whether it was from her body heat or an internal feeling I could not be sure. Though I was certain of one thing; I liked this feeling.

Lyra cleared her throat and backed away with me. “That was fun. Not the type of dancing I’m used to, but I had fun.”

“Really? Then perhaps you can show me some of your preferred dancing on our next date?”

“Our next date? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous there, Symphony? After all, I nearly walked out on you.”

“And yet here you are.”

She opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. She nodded to herself, and grinned at me. “Well played.”

I chuckled, and kissed her hoof. “I do believe it is getting quite late, Lyra, so I must take my leave. Does this Sunday afternoon sound like a good time to meet again?”

“I thought you had church.”

I shrugged. “I doubt the Holy Mother will be too upset if I skip one service.”

Lyra chuckled. “I’m corrupting you already. I’ll have you denouncing her name before too long.”

My gaze hardened for a second. “Let us not get too carried away.”

She threw up her hooves. “Ease up there, big guy. I’m just making a joke.” She sighed when my gaze did not change. “Okay, I’ll admit that wasn’t a particularly funny joke. But we’re gonna have to get you to relax. I’m a teaser, and I’m not budging on that.”

Hmmm. Teasing had never been one of my favorite traits in a mare. It seemed there were fundamental differences between us, but there would always be fundamental differences between mares and stallions. Yet relationships were still able to bloom and flourish. Lyra may not be the perfect mare for me, and it was entirely possible we would be sick of each other by date number two. But as for now, I liked her. For a first date, I would say that was enough.

***

It had been six months since my first date with Lyra. It had taken awhile, but I was no longer sweaty when I was around her. If anything, I was slightly annoyed. Both of us were right about her teasing. She never stopped, and I was still not used to it. I could deal with it, though, if it meant being able to spend time with her.

“So, how do I look?”

She was standing on her back legs, while her front legs were draped seductively around her body. She wore a tight scarlet dress with a pearl necklace. She fluttered her eyes at me, which she had accentuated with jet black eye shadow. Her lips had received a fresh coat of lipstick, and were tantalizingly pursed.

How did she look? I could hardly begin to fathom a series of words which could adequately describe how she looked. But I was a stallion of Cadance. It did not matter how attractive a mare appeared; she was still a pony and deserved to be respected as such. Even if I did want nothing more than to take her clothes off.

“You look good.”

“Just good?” Her body slumped, and she put her front legs on the ground. “I thought I was at least beautiful. If not ravishing. Do you not like me anymore, Symphony? Do you no longer think I’m beautiful?”

Good Goddess above. “I think you are absolutely gorgeous, Lyra.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?” She approached me with a deceptively sad expression. “I’m your marefriend, aren’t I? And you told me I was beautiful when we first met. So why not now?”

“Does there need to be a reason? I simply thought saying you looked good would be sufficient.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re much more eloquent than that. You’d normally tell me exactly what you were thinking unless.…” A knowing smirk appeared on her face. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to tell me exactly what you’re thinking because you want to fuck me.”

I coughed, and turned away from her. I was not having this conversation.

“No way. That is what you’re thinking. Aww, Symphony wants to plow me. That’s adorable.”

I groaned, and tried to ignore the heat I felt in my cheeks. This was going to be a long walk to the Gala.

The doors to the Crystal Palace swung open. My first instinct was to gasp in awe. The floor had been polished until every visible inch sparkled. I assumed the parts of the floor veiled by carpet sparkled as well. I stepped onto the carpet and felt waves of comfort rippling through my coat. This was definitely velvet. I was actually walking on velvet. In the Crystal Palace!

I felt a surge of pity for my sister. As a soldier in the CDF, she had received two tickets to attend the Grand Galloping Gala tonight as a thank you for her service. I was originally going as her plus one since I had wanted to go and she refused to take Joab as a date. Unfortunately for Orchestra, she was stationed at Camp Jubilee a week before the event. The camp was far to the east, and too far for her to attend tonight. She had given me her tickets anyway, and told me to take the prettiest mare I could find. So, I had.

“If you’re trying to impress me, it’s working.”

I cast a glance at my date. Suddenly, I no longer felt bad for my dear sister. Rather, I was happy for her misfortune. I offered a hoof to Lyra. “Shall we?”

Her eyes met mine as we locked hooves. “We shall.”

As we walked down the velvet carpet, I found my eyes wandering. The Grand Hall was full of well-dressed ponies. Many of them were clothed in their CDF uniforms, while others wore priestly robes. The majority of attendees wore suits or dresses. In the center of the room was a large fountain. In the center of the fountain was a diamond statute of the Holy Mother. She was standing on her backlegs, with her forelegs stretched out horizontally and her wings unfurled. In her left hoof she was holding the Crystal Heart, while The Book of Cadance was in her right. I had seen a similar pose before on a tapestry.

Speaking of which, tapestries dangled from the rafters above. In the center of the tapestries was a large gold chandelier. Rather than being fitted with bulbs, the chandelier was lit with actual candles. It was truly a sight to behold.

I heard Lyra scoffing beside me. “What is it?”

She rolled her eyes, and pointed to one of the tapestries. “No unicorn would hold a weapon in their mouth. That part of the design makes no sense.”

I gazed upon the tapestry she had pointed out. The Burned Stallion, or rather Shining Armor, stood in the foreground surrounded by flame. He was wearing armor on his torso and hooves, but not his helmet. Blood dripped down the side of his face from a cut above his eye, and fell onto the point of his spear. He clutched the spear in his mouth, whilst his eyes blazed with wrath.

“Artistic license, Lyra. Tis only to accentuate the artist’s point.”

“Which is?”

Behind Shining Armor was the Holy Mother. She was turned away from her husband, and was weeping. In her hooves she cradled her holy book.

“The Holy Mother is not a fan of violence; but it is sometime necessary.”

“Spoken like a true member of the CDF.”

Oh, no. Of all the galas in all the Crystal Wasteland, we had to walk into the same one.

“Hello, Jezebel,” I said without turning around. In fact, I tried to canter away as quickly as possible.

“Now now, Symphony, don’t be rude.” Lyra stood firm, and refused to allow my escape. “I want you to introduce me to your friend.”

“Yes, bu—”

“Don’t you remember, Symph? That’s Princess Jezebel.”

Her voice dripped with a seductive cadence. Every instinct was telling me to tear away from her, but then her onyx hooves snaked around my neck. Each hoof was adorned with a gold shoe, and glittered as a diamond would. They were warm. Oh, so warm. I closed my eyes and sighed. I had not realized how much I missed these hooves.

The sound of Lyra clearing her throat let me know how much trouble I was about to be in. I roughly shook Jezebel’s hooves away, and brushed my shoulders.

“My name is Symph…”

I lost my voice the second I saw her. Her coat was as black and sleek as the night sky. Her grey eyes sparkled like the stars in said sky. Her midnight blue mane matched the dress she was wearing. A dress which showed considerably more of her coat than I would have expected. She batted her grey stars at me. “I know your name all right, Symphony. It’s hard to forget a name I’ve screamed so many times.”

“And my name is Lyra.” Lyra released her hoof from me, and offered it to Jezebel. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Jezebel stared at Lyra’s hoof with a thinly veiled scowl. Her stone-grey eyes moved to me. “Symph, who is this?”

Lyra’s eyes shone with a mixture of mischief and frustration. “Yes, honey-bear, why don’t you tell her exactly who I am.”

“Symphony!”

Never in my life had I been happier to hear Joab’s voice. I felt him pat me on the back with a strong hoof, as he stepped into my line of sight. He was wearing his CDF uniform, which was full of creases and had a couple of holes. How he managed to not violate the dress could would forever be a mystery to me. At least his mane was well groomed. I also noticed he—did he pluck his eyebrows?

He must have noticed me staring at his brow because the left corner of his mouth curved into a frown. “I lost a bet with your sister.” A spark filled his eyes, and he began to look around the room. “Speaking of which, where is the little cock-tease?”

“What did you just call my sister?”

I wanted to enjoy watching him sweat, but I was too legitimately furious. I was also interrupted by Jezebel’s obnoxious coughing to ever have the chance.

“Pardon me. I seem to have come down with some kind of sickness.” She shot a condescending glare at Lyra. “I do hope you’ve had all your shots.”

“Only the one that keeps me from being an obnoxious slut.”
Jezebel’s eyes twitched, and the smile on her face was beyond forced. “You certainly have a mouth on you, don’t you?”

“Symphony seems to think so.” She punctuated her statement by kissing me on my throat.

I responded by wrapping a hoof around her shoulders, and kissing the tip of her horn. I had the urge to kiss her in other places, but that would not have been appropriate given the audience.

“Wait, you brought that here?” Joab stepped up to Jezebel’s side, and gave Lyra the same condescending glare. “Symphony, what were you thinking?”

I took a second to think about his question. All I had wanted was to have a good night with the mare of my dreams. And I could give her such a night at home.

“You are right, Joab. This was a terrible decision.” I slid my hoof down Lyra’s side and locked hooves with her. “Shall we, my dear?”

Lyra’s gaze was a tad wary “We shall.”

I dipped my head towards Jezebel and Joab. Neither of them were deserving of my manners, but I refused to stoop to their level of rudeness. I turned back towards the door with Lyra in tow.

“Be careful you don’t catch any diseases, Symphony!” Jezebel shrilled.

“Yeah,” Lyra whispered. “I’d hate for you to catch stuckupbitch-ivitus.”

I chuckled, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “It would not be the worst thing I received from Jezebel.” When Lyra raised her eyebrow I explained further. “She and I had a brief fling. I thought she loved me. As it turned out, I was not the only stallion who thought that she loved him.” I grinned, and opened the door for Lyra. “It seems I have a thing for harlots.”

I regretted the comment as soon as I said it. I meant it as a joke. To be honest, it was not a particularly funny joke. I could admit that. But I had not meant anything by it. “I am so sorry. I did no—”

Judging from the look in Lyra’s eyes, she took it much more personally than I intended. “No, it’s fine. It’s good to know where I stand.”

“No.” I replied without even thinking. “Lyra, that could not be further from the truth.”

I leaned in to kiss her, but she stepped away from me and out the door. I immediately followed, and was aware of how dark it had gotten. The sun had been setting earlier, and whatever sun was left had been obscured by a shroud of cloud. I felt something wet fall on my coat. I raised my head and watched as the rain began to fall.

“Lyra, we need to find some shelter before it gets worse!”

She stopped, and turned to face me. Disdain glittered in her beautiful golden eyes. “This is nothing, Symphony. I’ve slept outside during a blizzard. Twice. It’ll take a lot more than water t—”

A bolt of lightning flashed above us, and thunder roared. Lyra jumped close to me, and I heard her softly whimper. Now I had a joke I thought was legitimately funny. I whispered into her ear, “I think lightning is a little more than water.”

The disdain was still in her eyes, but some of her usual mischief was there as well. Luckily I had salvaged the situation.

“Fine. I suppose spending time with handsome stallions is what I do as a harlot.”

Or perhaps not. “Lyra, I—”

She shook her head to silence me. “Talk later, shelter now. I don’t want to deal with thunder.”

It took us a while, but we found an inn we could spend the night in. The innkeeper had tried to finagle us into paying significantly more than the room was worth, but Lyra was able to successfully barter with him for a reasonable price. Currently, I was lying on the bed whilst Lyra was washing her face in the bathroom. I spent my time staring up at a flickering lightbulb. I prayed it was not a metaphor from the Holy Mother about my relationship with Lyra.

Finally, the lightbulb flickered out. I raised my head, and gazed at the door to the bathroom. A faint sliver of silver moonlight illuminated the door. It was like a divine spotlight. All that was missing was the mare of the hour.

Click. The lock was disengaged, and the door swung open. Lyra peeked her head out, but the rest of her body was masked by shadow. Darn. I could only imagine how gorgeous she would look when she was fresh and wet after a shower.

Lyra turned her face from me, and pressed her head against the doorframe. Despite the low light I could tell she was rolling her eyes. It was faint, but I could make out her chuckling as well. Aside from the chuckle Lyra was quiet. I was unsure of what to say so I mimicked her silence.

One minute passed. Then a second. I had started tapping my hooves against the bed. I hated to copy Orchestra’s habit, but I could not help it. I was just so nervous about what Lyra would say. It was a stupid comment, a really stupid comment. Was I really about to lose her over something so senseless? I could not take it anymore. I had to speak up.

“Do you love me, Symphony?”

Her question did not register immediately. It took me a few moments to realize she had broken the silence and I needed to respond. “Is the sky blue, Lyra?”

“Symphony, I asked you if you loved me.”

“I am well aware. And in turn, I am asking you if the sky is blue.”

She paused longer than I would have liked, but she did respond by saying,

“Yes.”

“Are apples red?”

She paused again, but this pause felt more natural. As if she were trying to come up with a clever response rather than legitimately questioning my intentions. “Not always. They can be green and gold.”

Now that was the sarcasm I knew and loved from her. It seemed I would be able to salvage the situation, as well as our relationship, after all. “Fair point. Allow me to rephrase. Are oranges generally orange?”

“Yes, but…”

“And are you the most beautiful mare in the whole world?”

The divine spotlight on Lyra had been gradually growing brighter throughout our exchange. Lyra’s face was fully visible and turned towards me. Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was somewhere in-between a smile and a frown. But I could see the affection twinkling in her eyes. “You better be taking this where I think you’re taking this.”

I smiled as I approached her. I caressed the side of her face, and she practically purred and pressed her face into my hoof. “For as long as the sky is blue, oranges are orange, and you are the most beautiful mare in the world, I will love you, Lyra.”

Her expression finally settled on a mischievous grin. “Oh, so you’ll only love me while I’m beautiful then? Pfft.” She turned away in mock disdain. “I better not get old any time soon.”

I groaned. “You know that is not what I mean, Lyra. I simp—”

She cut me off with a kiss. A powerful, passionate kiss. I fell over onto my back with Lyra on top of me. The kissing did not stop, not even for a moment. Our bodies continued to melt into each other’s with each passing second. I could not have been happier. I got to be alone with the mare I loved, and make her happy.

And I was about to get my wish. It seemed I would be taking those clothes off after all…

***

I was home. I could smell the musk, and feel the water dripping from the leaky roof. It was not much; in fact, it was barely anything at all. But it was home. I sat at the round wooden table with my hooves tapping the underside incessantly.

“That’s an odd form of percussion, Symphony.”

I shot my sister a glare from across the table. “You’re one to talk considering where I learned the habit from.”

“Is that a contraction I hear? You must really want me to like this friend.” She frowned a little, and eyes me warily. “You’re not trying to set me up with a friend of yours, are you?”

“No, dear sister. I am not trying to set you up with my dinner guest.”

“Okay, good. The last thing I need right now is to have some stallion checking me out all night. I’m self-conscious enough as it is with the inspection coming up.” ‘Chestra raised one of her hooves, and retrieved the kirpan from its sheath. She held its azure handle in her mouth as she scraped it against a whetstone.

I frowned at my sister. “Do you really have to do that at table?” I scoffed. “Clearly your superiors forgot to include table etiquette into your training.”

Orchestra rolled her eyes at me, and slipped the blade back into its sheath. “Happy now?”

“Quite.”

‘Chestra groaned, and threateningly waved her hoof at me. “For your information, baby brother, the CDF does place value in etiquette, but weapon maintenance takes priority.” She cast her gaze towards the door. “Speaking of etiquette, shouldn’t your guest have been here already? What’s keeping him?”

I could have answered her question, but I had the urge to press my sister a little further. It seemed Lyra had been rubbing off on me. “Speaking of hims, how is Joab doing?”

Orchestra had the exact reaction I intended; her face flushed. “I… -I don’t know.” She slammed her hoof on the table, and glowered. “Don’t ask me such stupid questions, Symphony.”

I chuckled. “Sounds like he is doing well. Give him my regards next time you see him.”

Orchestra’s face scrunched, and she turned away indignantly. She started to mutter something incomprehensible. Okay, it was time to lay off. If she was in too foul of a mood it could ruin the whole evening.

“But alas, you are mistaken, dear sister. This friend is not a him but a her.”

That got Orchestra’s attention. She turned back to face me. Her eyebrows were cocked, and her mouth was wide with a grin. “Oh, really? So my dumb brother’s finally found a mare worth bringing home?” She placed her knife back on the table. “I hope she doesn’t mind a little teasing.”

No, she most certainly did not. In fact, I had asked Lyra to tone her usual tendencies down a bit for the evening. I had been dating her for months and still had trouble dealing with her teasing. I was unsure if Orchestra would make it through an evening with Lyra operating at full force.

“But in all seriousness, I’m happy for you, Symphony. You want to marry her, right?”

I had been in the process of eating a crouton. As soon as Orchestra’s words reached my lips the process became one of choking. I slammed my hoof against my chest, as I coughed. Orchestra did not bother to help me. She just watched me with a knowing smile.

“Mhmm. Thought so.” She stood up, and casually trotted towards me. She chopped my back with her hoof twice, and the crouton slid down. “Let me guess. You want my blessing before you propose.”

I hunched over, and started coughing. After a solid thirty seconds, I sat back down. “How did you know?”

She smiled wryly at me, as she went back to her seat. “Because I know my little brother. The perfect gentlecolt. I’d wager you asked her father as well.”

I shook my head warily. There was something in my sister’s tone I could not place. Anxiety, perhaps? It was certainly odd, but I ignored it and answered her question. “You would have lost that wager, dear sister. She is an orphan, just as we are.”

“An orphan, huh?” A melancholic expression took hold of her face. “Poor girl. It’s not easy growing up alone.”

From the listless look in her eyes, I assumed Orchestra was lost in her memories of our parents. Memories I would never have. I moved beside her, and placed my hoof on hers. “You have never been alone, Orchestra. Nor shall you ever be.”

Her eyes did not change as they fixed upon me. “Yeah…-if you say so, Symph.” Before I could say anything more, she chuckled. “But enough changing the subject. I want to know more about my future sister.” The right side of her face scrunched up, and her nostrils flared. “It’s not that one from Haven you brought to the Grand Galloping Gala, is it? I don’t know what I’d do if you married that heathen harlot.”

“Don’t call her that!” I spoke without even realizing it. I had even used a contraction.

The listlessness had been replaced by a steely glint. “Symphony, did you invite a heathen into my home?”

I matched her glare with one of my own. “Our home.”

Orchestra said nothing more. She did not have to. Her sharp stare and incessant tapping said everything. Tap. Tap. Tap. I hated that sound. I could almost feel the air around me dripping with my sister’s dissatisfaction. Tap. Tap. Thud. What was that? Orchestra’s tapping had always been obnoxious, but it had never been so loud. Tap. Thud. Thud.

“Hello?” a voice called. A voice I knew and loved all too well.

“My guest is here.”

“Then you should answer the door.”

As I approached the door I had an urge. I did not know why, but I felt I needed to say something to my sister. I turned back to her, and saw the change in her eyes. It only lasted for a second, but I was certain I saw the same anxiety I had heard in her voice earlier. “Orchestra?”

“What?” she retorted, the steely glint back in her gaze.

“I love you.”

She flinched as if I had struck her. Aside from that, her expression remained unchanged. “I love you too,” she replied in a tone as cold as her eyes.

I turned towards the door, and opened it.

There she was. The most beautiful mare in all of the Crystal Wasteland. She was wearing a vermillion dress, with a gold sash. I absolutely loved this dress. It brought out her eyes spectacularly, as well as accentuated her flank. I doubted I would even need to eat. My eyes were feasting enough right now.

Lyra flung her hooves around me, and pulled me close. “There’s my handsome stallion! I’ve missed you so much.” She gently nibbled on my ear, and sent a shudder down my spine. “I’ll bet you missed me too.”

“You have no ide—”

“Ahem.”

Oh, right ‘Chestra. I stepped out of Lyra’s embrace, and gestured to her. “Orchestra, this is my marefriend Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Lyra, this is my sister Orchestra.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Lyra stepped forward and curtsied.

I braced myself for Orchestra’s biting retort. My prediction would be the use of the word “gypsy.” Nothing too offensive, but it would set the tone for the rest of the night. That, or she would stand up and order Lyra out of the house. Oh, please, not that. I closed my eyes, and silently prayed to the Holy Mother that would not come to pass.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine.”

Hmm? I opened my eyes, and watched my sister bowing. She approached Lyra, and offered her hoof. “Shall I show you to your seat?”

“Why, yes, thank you! Now I see where Symphony gets his good manners from.” Lyra laughed, and wrapped her hoof around my sister’s.

“Good manners?” Orchestra scoffed. “If my brother had any manners at all, he would have warned me about your arrival.”

“Warned you? I’m not sure I follow,” Lyra replied, sounding a tad nervous.

“My idiot brother failed to warn me of your beauty, Miss Heartstrings. I feel I’m at a disadvantage.”

“Did he now? Maybe he was just afraid you would try and charm me away from him.”

‘Chestra replied with a grin. “Is it working?”

“Ooh, I like you!” Lyra planted a kiss on my sister’s cheek. “Symphony has his work cut out for him if he wants to keep me to himself.”

I was at a loss. Only a minute ago Orchestra had seemed perfectly willing to banish Lyra from the house. Now she was practically flirting with her. What was my sister playing at? I knew I should have been happy to see the two of them getting along. I wanted to be happy, but something felt very off about this.

Orchestra led Lyra to the chair at the corner of the table, which would put Lyra in-between my sister and me. ‘Chestra pulled out Lyra’s chair, and bowed again once Lyra sat down.

“Orchestra, you are an absolute gem. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

My sister took her seat at the head of the table with a shrug. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve been looking after Symphony ever since Mom and Dad died. I joined the CDF as soon as I could to get some income. I’ve been stationed in a few different places, but I haven’t really done much. Just some recon and weapons tests.”

Lyra scoffed. “Oh, I know there’s more to you than that. What’s your cutie mark?” Lyra craned her neck, and grinned. “I’d love to get a peek at it. It’s a shame that uniform is in the way.”

My sister blushed ardently. “It’s…-um, well...-it’s a flute.”

“Really?!” Lyra’s face brightened immensely. “Do you play? I’ve brought my lyre with me. Maybe the two of us could make sweet music together.”

To my surprise, there was no sultry tone in Lyra’s voice. The phrase “make sweet music together” was just the type of innuendo she would love, but she was nothing if not sincere in that moment. Orchestra, however, did not seem to realize this and only blushed harder.

“I’d rather not.”

Hurt and disappointment briefly flashed in Lyra’s eyes at my sister’s words. Orchestra was not trying to be mean; this was just her indignation coming out. But to those who did not know her it could come across as extreme rudeness. I entwined my tail with Lyra’s to offer some comfort. It was not much, but it seemed to cheer her up a little. She kissed me on the cheek, and took her first bite of cabbage stew.

“Mhmm.” Lyra’s tone was thoroughly unenthusiastic. “This is really…”

“Symphony made it.”

“Terrible!” Lyra pushed her bowl away. “I appreciate you making dinner for us, Symphony, but you’re just plain bad.”

“Thanks for the support.” I attempted to remove my tail from hers in indignation, but Lyra just held on tighter. I supposed I did not have to be too mad. She was right after all. The cabbage stew was terrible. I took another bite, and barely repressed my urge to retch.
‘Chestra sighed. “Tell me, Lyra, what are your plans for the future?”

“For my future?” Lyra rocked back in her chair, and stared up at the stars through the holes in the roof. “I want to get away from this place.”

“My house is not that bad,” I grunted with a grin.

She pushed me playfully with her front hooves. “You know that’s not what I mean. I just…” She sighed, and offered a small smile to my sister. “I’m sorry if this sounds offensive, but I don’t feel that I belong among crystal ponies. Most of them look down on me like I’m some sort of sub-pony. I think the only way I could be truly happy would be if I could live somewhere else. Like the old Equestria.”

‘Chestra raised an eyebrow. “The old Equestria? Are you sure that’s safe at all?”

“Of course not. I doubt anypony who lives there can sleep well at night.”

“So why would you want to leave?” I asked. “Is there anything that would make you want to stay?”

Lyra and I locked eyes. She knew exactly what question I was really asking her. She answered it by placing one of her hooves on my lap, and kissing me on the cheek. “Nothing I can’t take with me.”

“You bring up a good point, Symphony. If you think the old Equestria is so dangerous, then why not just stay here?”

“I can’t stay here because of the so called ‘True Cadanites.’” Lyra stuck out her tongue, and made a gagging noise. “I think they’re disgusting and dangerous. I don’t know if I could sleep well across the border, but I know I can’t sleep well here either.”

“The True Cadanites, huh?” Orchestra folded her front hooves on the table, and leaned forward. “Did you know you were speaking to one right now?”

Lyra chuckled, and shook her head. “Nice try, Orchestra, but you can’t be a True Cadanite. If you were, you would absolutely hate me.”

“I know, and I do. I’ve wanted to kill you ever since you stepped hoof into my house.”

Lyra chuckled awkwardly, and eyed my sister warily. “You have an odd sense of humor, Orchestra.”

“I’m not joking. The only reason I haven’t slit your throat is because my brother seems to have a thing for you.” Orchestra’s gaze flicked towards me. “The answer is no, by the way. And the next time you bring me a disgusting girl I’ll kill her the second I see her. Are we clear, Symphony?”

Lyra answered before I could. “I’m sorry, but where the fuck do you and your kind get off?”

“My kind?”

“Yes, your kind, Orchestra. You and the other bigots.”

“I’ll tell you exactly where we get off, harlot.” Orchestra slammed one of her front hooves on the table, and used the other to point at Lyra. “It was your kind that started the war with the zebras. Your kind that led to the death of the Goddess. And it’s your kinds’ continued existence that angers her so.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Not this Goddess nonsense.”

“Nonsense?!”

Lyra tilted her head at Orchestra, and looked at my sister as if she were a child. “Yes, nonsense. Because only an idiot would believe in an old mare’s tale like that.”

Orchestra turned to me, and pointed both front hooves at Lyra. “How can you sit there and listen to this? She’s insulting the Goddess. Your Goddess. And you’re just going to sit there?”

I replied by taking another bite of my cabbage soup.

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew, and you still brought her into my home.”

“It’s not just your home. Symphony lives here too. More than you do. I mean, I’ve slept here more times in the past month than you have.”

The color drained from my sister’s face after hearing Lyra’s words. I could only assume my face looked the same way.

“You what?”

Lyra’s lips curled sinisterly. She leaned forward, and she batted her eyes at Orchestra. “I fucked him in your bed.”

That was not true! While the two of did fu—er, copulate, I never stepped hoof in Orchestra’s room. That was her space, and I kept it that way. Lyra was just egging her on at this point. I knew I needed to say something to diffuse the situation, but what? If I said something in Lyra’s defense, I would earn my sister’s wrath. If I spoke up for Orchestra, I would receive Lyra’s ire. It killed me to see them fighting like this, but what could I do?

“You…” Orchestra was literally shaking with rage. “You fucking whore!”

“And you’re a stupid cunt.”

The moments that followed were bizarre. On one hoof, I felt as if they happened quickly. Too quickly for anypony to process what had transpired. But on the other, it was almost as if time had slowed to a crawl. Orchestra flipped the table, and the impact knocked Lyra and me on our backs. Orchestra ripped her kirpan from its sheath, and lunged at Lyra. My sister’s eyes blazed with fury and bloodlust. Meanwhile, Lyra was too stunned to retaliate. She did not even see the attack coming.

But I had. I leaped in front of Lyra to shield her from my sister’s strike. Orchestra had either not seen me, or was too blood hungry to care. She slashed in my direction. I felt so many things at once. The cold of her kirpan’s blade. The warmth of my blood as it dripped from the wound. I felt physical pain at the cut, and emotional pain as I saw the hate in my sister’s eyes. Most of all I felt tired. Oh, so tired.

I collapsed onto my side. Tears streamed down my face as I coughed up blood. I pressed my hooves against my throat in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. I watched as my hooves became soaked in my blood. Were these my final moments? If so, I wanted to spend them looking at Lyra. At least that would give me some reprieve.

“Symphony?”

Instead I was looking at my sister. Her mouth stood agape, and her body shook. Her kirpan clattered to the floor, as she rushed to my side. “Symphony!” She cradled my head with her front hooves, and pressed her tail against my wound. “Come on, baby brother. It’s just a scratch. Just a little scratch.” She was starting to cry now too. Her tears were falling into the wound, and only served to cause me more pain.

“It’s all her fault,” my sister whispered in my ear. “It’s all that heathen harlot’s fault. She’s the reason this happened. It’s only because of her. If you didn’t know her then…” ‘Chestra raised her head and started to scream. “YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, YOU FILTHY FUCKING CUNT! YOU KILLED H—”

A solid gold lyre slammed into the side of my sister’s head. She was knocked onto her side out of my line of sight. But not out of earshot. I could hear her screams. Oh good Goddess above, the screaming. I was beginning to lose consciousness. My eyes were growing heavy and my vision was weakening. But I was still able to get a glimpse of Lyra. The last image I thought I would ever see was of Lyra approaching me while my sister screamed in the background.

***

I awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling.

The ceiling I was used to had holes in it. There was also mold growing in a few places. It was not a particularly nice ceiling, but I was used to it. In contrast, this ceiling was beautiful and plain in its white color. It was relaxing. It made me feel placid. An unfamiliar white ceiling. I had a feeling I was in a hospital.

I was unsure as to why. My memory was on the hazy side. I supposed the first order of business was inventory. I raised my head and observed my body. I had four legs, my tail, and I could see and hear without a problem.

I could not see any bandages…-wait, what was that? I could see a gauze at the base of my neck. I touched to my hoof and felt around. Sure enough, the gauze was wrapped around my entire throat. It felt wet. Very wet. When I removed my hoof I saw blood dripping from it. There was not much blood, but enough for me to know something was wrong.

All of a sudden, I felt a surge of searing pain in my throat. I frantically searched for something to numb the pain. But there was nothing. No ice or medicine in sight. I needed to call the nurse then. I opened my mouth to call out, but the resulting sound was all wrong. There were no words, or even syllables for that matter. I only heard a strained hint of a rasp. It was disgusting; it was terrifying.

I tried calling again. And again, and again. Each time I heard the sound again, and each time my throat burned even more.

What had happened to me? The last thing I remembered was eating dinner with Lyra and Orchestra. The meal had gone well from what I could recall. The food was far from great, but at least the two of them had gotten along. No, there was more to the story than that. I recalled feeling tense the entire time, especially near the end. There had been a shouting match, and then ‘Chestra flipped the table, and.…

She did this to me. Orchestra had tried to kill Lyra, and she hit me on accident. Lyra had hit her in return, and my sister had screamed. Oh no, not the scream. I could hear it in my head. I pressed my hooves against my ears, but that did nothing to mitigate the noise. That horrible shriek was now etched into my brain. I needed to get it to stop. I raised my head, and slammed it back down on the bed. I repeated this action a few more times, but it did not help either. If anything, it only made the sound louder.

My hooves flopped to my sides, and I stared back at the unfamiliar ceiling. Lyra, where are you?

As if the Holy Mother had heard my question, the door to my room slowly opened. Lyra poked her head in, and she smiled once she saw me. “I’m so glad you’re awake. I was really worried about you.”

For a moment everything felt better. Lyra’s smile had the power to warm my heart, and I could feel my troubles melt away. But the feeling only lasted a brief moment. As Lyra trotted to my bed side, I attempted a greeting. The smile left her face the instant she heard the sound I made.

“Sketch told me the damage was bed. She didn’t think you’d actually make it. Can you believe that old witch? She actually told me to start looking for a new beau.” She wiped a hoof across her face, and sniffed. “This. This right here.” She motioned to me. “This is a miracle, Symphony. You being alive, I…” She touched one of her hooves to mine, and did not bother wiping away her tears. “I love you, ya big lug.”

I love you too. Four little words I would never be able to say again. I would have given my right eye to be able to say those words right now. Instead I did the next best thing. I pointed to my heart, and then pointed to Lyra’s. My heart belongs to you, Lyra.

There was a flicker of happiness in her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. She turned away from me, and her hoof slid away from mine. “I love you, Symphony; really, I do. But I can’t be with you anymore. The only reason this happened to you was because of me. And we both know it.”

She turned back towards me, and flinched. No doubt she felt the venom in my gaze. “Don’t argue with me, Symphony.” She pointed towards the window. “I can’t stay here in the Crystal Wasteland anymore. I wanted to leave anyway, but now your fucking cunt of a sister wants my head. But you don’t have to leave. Yeah, she’s pissed at you, but she’ll get over it. She’s your family, and you can’t just leave your family. Not when you still have one.”

I repeated the gesture, and then placed my hoof on hers. I doubted it was enough to convey what I really wanted to say. That Lyra was my family now. I did not think I was capable of looking at Orchestra again, let alone continuing to call her my sister. No, perhaps that was too harsh. She was my sister after all. She was just—no! She tried to kill Lyra; she nearly killed me. That made her a monster. A monster who I could not bring myself to hate. I tried to sigh, but was only rewarded with another disgusting sound. Perfect.

Lyra looked down at me with a sad, but knowing, smile on her face. “I’m not going to win this fight. Am I, Symphony?”

I shook my head.

Her smile brightened a little bit. She lied down beside me, and pressed her head against my chest. “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?”

I replied by kissing the tip of her horn.

To my surprise, Lyra giggled. Despite my situation I found myself smiling a sincere smile. She could seem legitimately innocent at times. I was really cute. She playfully swiped her hoof at me, and lightly tapped me on the nose. “You can’t just kiss me there without asking for permission first. What kind of mare do you take me for?”

The two of us shared a laugh. Well, she laughed. I was not quite sure what to call the sound I was making. I slid one of my hooves to touch my throat. This really happened to me. I had lost my voice. Would I ever get it back? If not, how long would it take me to get over it? Could I ever? There were so many questions going through my head that I barely heard Lyra’s.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we? We’re going to leave this place and start a life together.” She rolled on top of me, and our eyes met. Neither of us said anything because neither of us had to. Our eyes said it all.

I love you.

***

Lyra.

I had found the love of my life, and now I would only see her in my memories and dreams. I felt as though I could have been reminiscing for hours, but all those memories occurred in the blink of an eye. The feeling was both surreal and cruel. She, and any chance at happiness I had left, was taken from me.

I stared at the door to the way station. It would open any second now, and I would see my enemies. Purity. The priest. Orchestra. Yes, soon I would be reunited with my sister. And she would soon be reunited with Joab.

Finally, after what felt like months of waiting, the door began to creak open…

Author's Note

Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry this chapter came so late today. Heck, for some of you it might technically be tomorrow. I'm honestly a little surprised I got this one done on time. But I think the next one should be done perfectly on time. Anyways, I hope you all had a great year and have a great year next year. As always, thanks to Kkat for the original story, other writers for their contributions, and anyone who reads this story. See you all in the next one.

P.S. By the way, the lack of a footnote in this chapter wasn't an oversight. Since it was entirely done in flashback, aside from those last couple lines, there wasn't any experience gained so there really wasn't anything to say.

1.10: Cadence

Chapter 1.10 Cadence
“Thank you, for choosing wisdom over violence.”

Carbine burst through the door. Anarchy and Tenacity levitated at his sides, but dropped immediately once he entered the waystation. The maroon unicorn slid onto his side, and frantically kicked at the door until it closed. “Guys! Those fuckers from the church are coming after us. And they—” He immediately shut up when he looked at me. “Did something happen?”

I said nothing. Of course I said nothing, not that I would have said anything if I could talk. I simply continued to watch the door in hopes my sister would be brave enough to open it. Come on, ‘Chestra. Your baby brother awaits.

“Hey, Thirteen, where are you?” Carbine was on his hooves and pacing around. He stopped in front of the staircase leading to the basement. To Lyra’s tomb. “How did I never notice those? Hey, Symph is she down there?”

I twitched, but had no other reaction.

“O-kay. I’m just gonna go down here.” As he walked away I heard him mumbling, although it echoed in the stairwell, “I guess Symphy is an angry drunk.”

I heard his hooves echoing as well, Carbine did have a habit of stomping when he trotted. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Silence. I heard no sound at all coming from Carbine. Images flooded my mind. The fireball, the body parts, the blood. All of a sudden my hooves grew heavy. Joab’s rifle lowered until the barrel of the rifle was touching the floor. My rage towards my sister and her companions had given me strength, and had kept me from breaking down. But now all I felt was the loneliness. The silence.

Something hard hit me on the back. I swiveled the rifle and looked right into Carbine’s eye. All traces of his usual stupidity and goofiness were gone. He lifted one hoof to the side of his head in a salute. “Sir! Permission to lay waste to each and every one of the motherfuckers who killed Thirteen, sir?”

I shook my head, and tapped my chest once. Save one for me.

The maniacal grin appeared on his face. I had thought ill of his grin on numerous occasions, but rarely had I ever given it praise. It was time to rectify that. Praise be unto him and his beautiful grin. May I see in times of weakness so it can give me the strength to carry on. I turned the rifle back towards the door. And may Carbine’s grin strike fear into the hearts of anypony stupid enough to piss him off.

Knock. Knock. “Is anypony in there?”

That was the priest. It took all of my self-control to not fire the rifle right then and there. I did want to kill him; I really did. But if Carbine wanted to have some fun, then he could have it with the priest. Carbine could avenge Missile, and I could avenge Lyra.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but my companions and I heard an explosion. Is anypony still alive?”

“Yes. We would hate for there to have been any survivors. Right, Symphony?! Did you and your friends burn like you deserve?”

I flinched at my sister’s harsh tone. Orchestra could be prickly at times, especially when her indignation had gotten the best of her, but I had never heard her sound so spiteful. It stung a little. However, it would not sting as badly as the bullet I would put through her head. If only I knew where she was standing.

“Now, now, Orchestra. Don’t be so quick to condemn him. It is not our place to judge our fellow ponies. Rather, it is our duty to present them to the Holy Mother so that she may reign down divine judgment upon them.”

“Can you believe these wackos, Symph?” Carbine whispered.

I grunted in response.

“Before we come in, I would like to say a prayer.” The priest paused. I assumed he was waiting for Orchestra and Purity to close their eyes and bow their heads. “Holy Mother, I thank you for this day and for the mares at my side. They have been faithful companions to me throughout this process, as well as devoted followers in your ways. I pray that you will continue to watch over them, guide them, and bless them on their journeys.

“I also want to thank you for our late brother Joab. He was a young stallion, but he had a good-heart and a good head on his shoulders. He loved life, he loved his friends, but most of all he loved you. I thank you for the time I spent with him and for the blessing he was in my life. May he dwell in your house forever.”

“Holy Mother,” Orchestra added, “I also want to thank you for Joab. I will be the first to admit he could sometimes be a pain in the flank, but he was still a good stallion. I took him for granted more than I should have.” She paused for a long while before continuing. “I miss him, my Goddess, I really do. And I want to echo what Deacon said; that Joab may dwell in your house forever. He was a true brother to me.”

I fired my one shot. It tore a hole through the door, but fell short of my mark. Instead of hitting Orchestra between the eyes, it sailed harmlessly to her left. Through the hole in the wall I saw a smile form on my sister’s lips. A smile far more sinister and bone-chilling than one of Carbine’s grins could ever be.

“And I pray that you will give us the strength to do what is necessary. That we may be able to push aside any personal feelings that would prevent us from performing your holy work. We thank you for all you have done for us, and for the love you show us each and every day. In your holy name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen.”

I threw down the rifle and began to search for a weapon. The battle saddle would take too long to put on. I had not seen my knife since Tombstone Radio, so I likely left it there. I still had grenades…-that would be poetic justice. Lyra was killed by an explosion, and so would ‘Chestra. I bit down on the pin of a grenade with a green band. As soon as the door opened I would kick the grenade, and kill my sister.

Wow. I was actually about to do this. The mare who had raised me, and loved me all throughout my life. I had just tried to kill her, and was going to try again. I did not regret my decision to avenge Lyra, but I did feel a growing sadness in my heart. If I had my way, I would lose the two ponies I loved most in the world on the same day. Welcome to the Crystal Wasteland, Symphony.

I continued to watch my sister through the hole in the wall. She opened her eyes, and was gazing into the waystation. But she was not moving. I had expected her to come in with her kirpan and try to kill me. Was she waiting for us to come out, or for Deacon or Purity to come in first?

“I’ve got a shot on her, should I take it?” Carbine was holding Anarchy so that the gun’s barrel lined up with the hole in the wall. “Normally I wouldn’t ask, but she is your sister. Do you want to be the one to take her out?”

I hesitantly shook my head. It would be poetic, yes, for me to avenge Lyra. It would also be symbolic. If I were going to sever my ties with my old life and live in the old Equestria, what better way to commit than to kill my dear sister? But if Carbine could do it now, then that was for the best. Besides, there was still the possibility I would be unable to do it myself.

Anarchy roared. She breathed an unrelenting stream of lead into the wooden door. There were more holes in the door than in the Demon Queen of legend. But not a single one of those bullets reached my sister. A blue light enveloped the bullets, and held them in the air before they could reach Orchestra. I recognized that hue from the church. This was Purity’s magic. Slowly the bullets turned around until they were facing the opposite direction. Our direction.

“Father?” Orchestra asked. “Do I have your permission to recite the verse?”

“Yes, my child. Do you need to take a look at the holy book?”

She shook her head. “No. I know it by heart.

Orchestra walked forward. The levitating bullets moved forward as well. I had a feeling I knew where this was going. I quickly began to gather my possessions. My saddlebag, Joab’s rifle, the battle saddle…-actually that was going to be a pain to carry and I doubted I had time to put it on. I pointed to it and then pointed to Carbine’s horn. He nodded and levitated it along with his guns.

“So what’s the plan, boss?”

“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.”

I could hear her voice beginning to strain. I felt the hate in her tone as she said the word “brothers.” But I also noticed her hesitating. Instead of finishing the verse Deacon had recited in the church, Orchestra had stopped. I did not bother to contemplate the reasons for her stopping. Instead, I used the time to formulate a plan.

I did not like our position. They had clearly been in here before us, and there was the possibility of another booby-trap. Possibly one they could activate from the outside. The box of matches was with Lyra…-was in the basement, but they could have another on hoof. If so, they could always set fire to the waystation and smoke us out. Personally, I would rather escape now rather than while they were waiting for us.

I faced Carbine and mimed opening the door.

“Outside? Yeah, there’s a backdoor in the bathroom.” I raised an eyebrow, and he responded with a shrug. “So, outside. Then I get to shoot anypony I want? Even your sister?”

I nodded.

“And you will know my aim is holy when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”

That was our cue to hoof it. The bullets tore through the walls of the waystation. It was lucky for us we had a head start, or else we would have been torn to shreds. Although a few bullets did manage to bite through my barding. One in the shoulder, and two in my rump. I gritted my teeth to avoid screaming, or whatever sound I actually made.

The pain slowed me down. I cast a glance behind me hoping that seeing a swarm of bullets would cause me to speed up again. Instead I had the opposite reaction. I saw something which made me run backwards.

“Symph, what are you doing?!”

I ignored him and kept running. The stream of bullets had stopped, although a few more had found a home in my body. I stopped just in front of the object I had seen. I reached down to pick it up, but hesitated. No, I needed to do something first. I pulled the pin from a grenade; I did not notice a colored band on this one, and kicked it towards the hole in the wall. Then I quickly picked up the object and ran towards Carbine.

“Grenade! Get down!” I heard Deacon yell.

I felt my lips curl into a smile. Goodbye, Orchestra and friends. I turned my head back to watch the explosion. Only it did not happen. I did not see the grenade inside the waystation so it must have landed outside. Even if it had been captured in telekinesis, it still would have gone off. Could there have been a shield spell around the grenade? It was a possibility, though I doubted the shield would have muted the explosion. The most likely outcome was that the grenade had been a dud.

“It seems your brother insists on fighting fire with fire, Orchestra. In that case I think we should oblige him.”

I did not like the sound of that. Nor was I a fan of the flaming matches randomly flying through the holes in the wall. Actually, that observation was incorrect. The matches were not randomly placed. Half went to my left and the other to my right. In short, their plan was to set fire everywhere but in front of me.

“Symph! Symph! Fuck damnit, Symph!”

I slammed my hoof on the ground twice to let him know I was okay.

“Thank the Hot Pink Goddess for that. Okay, so now what the fuck do we do?”

I only had three options. I could run through the flames and hope to not be burned. Two, I could sit here and eventually die from smoke inhalation. Or take the third option. The one they planned for me to take.

A beam of magic energy blasted through the door. I hopped aside, and galloped at full force. I weaved between a torrent of magic beams as best as I could. I was hit a few times in my side, but I refused to stop running. This was the same type of spell which had burned through Missile’s wings, and severed Lyra’s horn. My body was burning, but it would be worth the pain when I reached the unicorn on the other side.

I rammed the door open with my shoulder. I locked eyes with Deacon. His were wide with shock; mine were narrow with determination. The object I had seen on the ground was Lyra’s severed horn. I wanted to take it with me, so I could always have a piece of her with me. It turned out to have a practical use as well.

I plunged Lyra’s severed horn into Deacon’s neck. He whinnied in pain, and I heard ‘Chestra and Purity scream his name. Using my weight and momentum, I pinned him onto his back. I then ripped Lyra’s horn out of his neck and rammed it in again. And again. And again. I could feel his blood splashing across my face.

He tried to use his hooves to kick me off, but he was not strong enough. He had ceased casting his beam spell. I assumed his horn was burnt out. Good. I continued to stab him. This was for Lyra. This was for Missile. For anypony unlucky enough to meet this son of a bitch. I jammed the horn into his right eye for good measure.

I ripped the horn out and prepared to stab him with it again when a great force barreled into me. I fell onto my side, rolled onto my hooves, and stared into my sister’s hate-filled silver eyes. The kirpan in her mouth glinted in the light.

“Purity, take care of Deacon. Use as many healing potions as you need to. Don’t leave a single one for me. I won’t need one.”

I watched Purity run towards the priest. She rested her head against his chest, and nodded. She then gently levitated his head against her chest, and poured a healing potion down his throat. The wounds in his neck were gradually closing. No. I refused to let him live. I had to quickly get past my sister and finish the job.

It was then I noticed the dud grenade sitting on a pile of loose dirt. I also noticed my sister rushing towards me brandishing a knife. Déjà vu. I kicked the grenade and the dirt at her. The grenade flew past her head without exploding. While that was unfortunate, it was not unexpected. The reason I had kicked the grenade was to distract her from the dirt about to get in her eye.

‘Chestra screamed. She closed her eyes and furiously rubbed them with her hooves. There would be no better time to strike than right now. My grip around the horn tightened. This is for you, Lyra. I galloped towards Deacon ready to finish off his life.

That was when the grenade exploded.

The force of the explosion knocked me onto my back. Shrapnel lodged itself into my leg. The same leg which had been struck by an arrow a few days earlier. It seemed this leg was cursed with bad luck. I was able to stand up, but with more difficulty than I wanted. Thankfully I could put weight on my leg, but I doubted I would be as mobile as my sister. Not without a shot of Med-X.

“Ka-fucking-boom! I’ve always wanted to do that.”

I turned my head and saw Carbine standing in the doorway with Tenacity levitating beside him.

His red pelt glowed like fire in the ligh—no, strike the simile. He actually was on fire. The flames were small, and would likely die out on their own. But despite the pain they likely caused him, Carbine grinned. Actually, given his personality, he was likely grinning because he was on fire. “Did you see that shit, Symphy? I shot your grenade, and killed that son of a bitch.” He kicked Tenacity with his hoof, and the shotgun spun three hundred sixty degrees and cocked. “I’ve seen you fucks kill too many of my friends, and that shit ends right fucking now. I won’t let you kill, Symph. And I sure as fuck won’t let you kill me.”

A large dart immediately lodged itself in Carbine’s neck. I flicked my gaze at Purity, who had a blow gun hovering beside her. Shrapnel had ripped into her beautiful face, which had also suffered burn marks. Her blow gun pivoted towards me, and a large dart was loaded into it. Given the immense pain in my leg, I doubted my ability to avoid her attack. I tightened my grip on Lyra’s horn. It seemed my only hope would be to deflect the dart.

“Stand down, Purity.”

I turned my head, and locked eyes with my sister. Her eyes were bloodshot from the dirt, and there was a sneer etched onto her face. ‘Chestra slowly circled me, in a manner reminiscent of the rabid dog I had fought outside Camp Terminus. Similar to the dog, ‘Chestra’s circle gradually grew smaller as she moved closer. I moved in a circle as well to make sure I never had my back to her.

I tried to recollect the lessons Sombra taught me. One, to always be on my guard. Two, to keep control over my enemy. It was not much, but it would have to do. Instead of continuing the circle, I slowly backpedaled away from my sister. To keep me under his control, Sombra had aimed his knife at me. I aimed the horn for Orchestra’s heart. My plan was to keep her continuously moving and hopefully psyche her out.

It did not work. My sister’s plan had her galloping towards me and swinging her kirpan. So much for Sombra’s lessons.

I blocked a swing with Lyra’s horn. Then a second. A third. Then I aimed a thrust of my own. ‘Chestra swatted the horn out of the way with one of her front hooves, and lunged. Her knife pierced my flesh. The wound was not all that deep, but it hurt a lot. She quickly shoved me with her front hooves. The good news was that removed the blade from my body. The bad news was I was off balance, and bleeding.

She rammed into me with her shoulder, and managed to stab me a second time. I was blinded by pain. My response was to open my mouth to scream. Not only was the noise I made thoroughly lacking in catharsis, but I also dropped the horn. Orchestra’s tail lashed out, and swept my legs. I fell onto my back, and only just managed to roll away before she dropped her hooves down. She seemed to have been aiming for the kirpan. If she had pushed it any further it could have hurt something vital. She almost killed me….

Her disdainful expression intensified when she cast her eyes towards Lyra’s horn. “I don’t know what disgusts me more, Symphony. The fact that you’re using her horn as a weapon, or that a part of her survived.” She flicked her eyes towards me, and her face contorted into the most malevolent smirk I had ever seen. She stomped on Lyra’s horn repeatedly until it was an unrecognizable heap of dust. “That’s much better.”

I no longer felt any pain. Now it was just fury. I pressed my hooves against the kirpan, and ripped it out of my chest. I clenched my teeth around the handle, and galloped towards her. The malevolence faded out of her face until it was nothing more than a slight frown. I aimed a thrust at her temple, which she avoided by moving her head out of the way. I continued to thrust at her, but she dodged me each time.

I changed strategies and aimed a thrust at her heart instead. Orchestra jumped into the air to avoid my attack. Before I could attempt to follow up, she kicked out with one of her back legs and hit me in the face. Her attack knocked the kirpan out of my mouth and into the air. No matter. Even without the knife, I still had my hooves. I kicked out with one of my front legs, the one without shrapnel, but she dodged me again without a problem. This time she ducked her head; then she jumped. She extended one of her front hooves, which punched me in the jaw as she ascended. Whilst in the air, she caught the kirpan in her jaws. And she kicked out at me with both of her back legs.

Both of us fell onto our backs. The difference was that Orchestra was able to roll onto her hooves in a seamless motion. I, on the other hoof, felt a resurgence of pain in my body. There was the shrapnel in my leg, the knife wounds in my chest, and the pain in my face from her hoof attacks. Before I knew it, Orchestra was on top of me and trying to stab me. I thrust my hooves at her face in an attempt to get her off of me.

I pushed with all my strength, but I was at a disadvantage. In addition to having gravity on her side, one of my legs was too pained to put up much of a fight. I tried rolling over, but to no avail. Her back legs had me completely pinned. Perhaps if I pulled out one of the grenade pins, Orchestra would retreat. It was risky, but I could hope she gave me enough time to flee the blast zone. But, alas, the only grenades left were out of reach. The only way I could reach them would be to move them with my hooves, which would give up my only resistance against Orchestra.

I recollected the dog I had fought shortly after leaving Camp Terminus. He had realized he was fighting a losing battle and had given up. This was a losing battle. I could not overpower my sister, nor could I out maneuver her. I had no more plays left. There was nothing left for me but to accept I was going to die.

I was going to be reunited with Lyra.

Yes, this was not such a horrible outcome after all. I was unsure now if there was any hope of an afterlife. But it was worth the risk if there was any hope of seeing Lyra again. Not that I had anything to lose at this point anyway. I felt my body go limp. My hooves dropped to my sides, and I raised my eyes to the sun above. I could feel my lips forming a smile. Goodbye, Crystal Wasteland.

‘Chestra plunged the knife deep into my….-hold on. Where was the pain? I focused my eyes on my sister. Her kirpan hovered just above my heart. Her whole body shook, but she did not waver from her position. She stood over me, shaking, for nearly a minute. I did not know what to feel. My sister had almost killed me, and could finish the job at any moment. I was afraid, but I was equally angry at her for leaving me in suspense. I briefly considered raising my chest into her knife and finishing the job myself. The key word being briefly. I wanted to be reunited with Lyra, but the circumstances had to be right. She would never forgive me if I killed myself.

“I won’t do it.” Orchestra sat up straight. Her eyes gazed down at me with intense frustration. “You want me to reunite you with your harlot, don’t you? That’s why you stopped struggling?”

I nodded, matching her stare with one of my own.

She snorted, and the left half of her face scrunched up. “How pathetic.” She raised one of her hooves and hit me in the face. “You stupid, pathetic, sniveling, ungrateful, little shit! Each of her words was accentuated with another hit to my face. “You really think I’d do that for you? After everything you’ve done to me?”

She slipped the kirpan back into its sheath. She then used her mouth to rip off her boot and continued punching me with her bare hoof. “First you brought that heathen into our home. Then you let her take you away. Then you made me travel the Crystal Wasteland looking for you. With Joab of all ponies.” I received an especially hard punch for that one. “Then I found you. I finally found my brother alive and well. Something I didn’t think was even possible. And what do you do?

“YOU ABANDONED ME!” She hit me so hard I felt my nose crack. She then slammed her hoof onto my neck, and used her weight to start choking me. “You killed my friend, and you abandoned me, Symphony. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? You were the only family I had left, and you left just like Mom and Dad did.”

Tears splashed against my cheeks. Rage had contorted my sister’s face, but that was not what I saw in her eyes. I saw deep pain in the eyes of my dear sister. Pain that I had caused and would never be able to make up for. The same pain she had caused me.

“And now, you think I’m going to reunite you with the harlot who caused this? Well guess what, Symphony? I’m not going to do it.” She removed her leg from my throat. She stepped off of my body, and put her boot back on. “If you want to die so badly, then go do it somewhere else. Piss off some monster. Starve to death. Eat one of your grenades, I don’t care how it happens. Just go and never come back!”

One of her legs crumpled beneath her. She was still standing on three legs, but she panted heavily. This was my chance. I could roll one of my grenades towards her, and escape before the explosion could reach me. My body hurt, especially my bruised and bloodied face, but I knew I had enough energy to kill Orchestra. I pushed one of the grenades towards my mouth, and reached towards it.

“Please…-just don’t come back, Symphony.”

I immediately stopped. In that moment, my perspective changed. She was no longer a threat, or my opponent. She had still killed Lyra and had tried to kill me, but in that moment I could not see her at that. All I could see was my sister. My dear, broken, sister. Throwing a grenade at her would just feel…-wrong. Killing ‘Chestra after she decided to spare me would not be self-defense anymore. It hardly seemed like revenge either. It just…-I just…-I couldn’t do it, could I? No. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t do it after she let me go.

I slowly stood onto my hooves, and trotted towards Carbine and our saddlebags. I fished a healing potion from our dwindling stash. I gulped it down, and found my eyes were fixed on Purity. She stared back at me while drinking a potion of her own. I watched as the magic mended the tears in her face. Even the burns on her cheek were gradually fading with every gulp.

I also noticed the body of Deacon beside her. He lay unmoving at Purity’s side in a pool of blood. I could still see the wounds in his body. I assumed Purity had stopped feeding him healing potions. If so, that meant he was likely dead. Good.

“You know it’s rude to stare, Symphony.”

That was a fair point. I retrieved another potion, and force fed it to the sleeping Carbine. The flames on his body died out before they grew too large, but they still left a few burn marks. If they could heal Purity’s, then they could heal his.

Then I spied Joab’s rifle beside Carbine. I was thankful he had retrieved it for me. I sat down and began to fiddle with the battle saddle. I wanted to replace the current rifle with Joab’s. I only had this weapon because its owner had died; he had only died because I killed him. I vowed that I could kill others for Lyra’s sake. If she were here, she would tell me that I needed to carry on for the both of us. So if killing ponies for the sake of survival would benefit Lyra, then that was something I could do. This rifle would forever be a memento of that choice.

Memento. I liked that word. This gun needed a name, and Memento had more of a ring than Joab’s rifle or Foal-killer. I removed the other rifle, and attached Memento in its stead. I put the other rifle in my saddlebag. There was always the possibility I could use it later for parts.

When I put away the other rifle, I noticed something hiding in my bag. It was the greeting card I took from the convenience store. The one with Shining Armor and the Fallen Angel—or whatever they were actually called. “To the Best Sister in the World” it read.

I looked back at my sister. She was standing up straighter, but she had not moved from her spot. I wondered what was going through her mind. Was she fighting the urge to kill me right here and now? Was she just waiting for me to leave first? I started to tear up. This was it; the final time I would see Orchestra. She had no business across the border, and I no reason to return to the Crystal Wasteland.

I wanted to say goodbye. It was hard to justify her deserving a goodbye, but I supposed she felt the same way about me. Perhaps that was what was going through her head. She was contemplating how to say her final farewell to me. I could have sworn I heard her tapping her hooves against the ground. I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

I wrote my message inside the card, and presented it to Purity to read for me.

“’Chestra, I’m scared. Would you play for me?”

My sister stiffened. At first she made no physical or verbal reply. She simply sat facing away from me. I took that as a refusal of my request. I could accept that. I walked back to Carbine, and gathered our effects. I slipped on my saddlebags and battle saddle, and managed to put Carbine’s bags on him. I had to remove some of his mug and burned book collection, why did he collect books if he could not read?, to make room for Anarchy and Tenacity.

Then we began to walk. Actually, it was not exactly we who were walking. I had one of Carbine’s legs draped around my shoulders, and used my other shoulder to support him. I was walking while he was simply being dragged. Soon we would be at the border, and start the rest of our lives.

That was when I heard the music. The notes of The Starlight Sonata filled my ears. I turned back to look at ‘Chestra. She wat sitting beside Purity with her back turned to me. Purity continued to watch me; I assumed she was making sure I did not suddenly lob a grenade in their direction. Part of me wanted to, but I refused to do so. I would never forgive my sister for what she did. I doubted I could even say I liked her any more either. But I would always love my sister, and I knew she would always love me. No matter what pain we caused each other.

***

It was night by the time we reached the border. If I were being honest, I had to say I was unimpressed. I had expected there to be a guard station, or at least an inn of some sort. All I found were the just twin signs. One of which read “Welcome to the Crystal ~~Empire~~ Wasteland,” while the other said “Welcome to ~~Equestria~~ the Wasteland.” I found it unnecessary to bother reading the various graffiti scrawled on the signs.

I cast my eyes downward. There was no gate or anything to pass through either. Not even a line to show where one territory ended and the other began. There was just a small, dead, patch of earth. No. I did not travel all the way here for this. If I were going to do this, I was going to do it right. I dropped Carbine, who had been sleeping tight for a few hours, and got to work.

I pulled the rifle out of my saddlebag, and drove the barrel into the earth. I walked sideways between the signs, and etched a horizontal line in the dirt. Perfect. Now I had an actual border I could cross. So, I did. I dropped the rifle beside Carbine and took my first steps into the old Equestria.

I felt no difference. The earth was as dead and dry as it was past Camp Terminus. Actually, no, there was a difference. It was subtle, but I felt stronger here. It was as if there were something in the air slowly giving me power. The most likely example was the ground had more radiation than back home, but why was I only starting to feel it now? My best guess was there had been shields set up here during the war that protected the Empire, which was why the radiation was stronger over here. Either that or I was only noticing because I was bothering to look for a difference. Hmm. That seemed like the more likely option.

I opened my mouth and exhaled. It could hardly be called a sigh anymore, but it had a similar effect. This was going to be home now. The border was right behind me, and I needed to cross it to gather Carbine and our effects, but it all felt so far away. I supposed this is how it felt to sever my ties with my home. It was what I wanted, what Lyra and I had planned. But I did not expect it to ache so much.

I took another step forward.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I backpedaled immediately. I had no idea what the beeping was, but I doubted it was anything pleasant. Before I was even halfway back to the border there was an explosion. The explosion sent dirt scattering around the area, including on me. It was better than being covered in blood, or having been caught in the explosion myself. And I learned something for future reference. Beeping meant an explosion was soon to follow. Also, I likely triggered the explosion so I needed to make sure I looked before I stepped. Lesson learned.

I walked back across the border, being careful not to step on anything, and began to conduct inventory. I had three grenades left, and all three were around my neck. I had one with a blue band, one with a green, and one without any band at all. There was the battle saddle on my back, along with the extra rifle. I had my radio, a few sheets of paper left, and the quill I found in Uziel’s tent.

There was also the vial of the Goddess. It was a last resort, and I pra—hoped I would never have to use it. I saw it as more than a drug. Goddess was the last relic I had of Doctor Zimri. Joab’s rifle was not the only memento I would carry with me. While Memento was a reminder of my decision to kill for the sake of survival, Goddess served as a reminder of the friends I had lost. And my desire to never lose another.

I wiped tears away from my eyes, and finished inventory. The only other possessions I had were the manuscript and night vision goggles we had looted earlier that day.

Wow. What a day it had been. This was it. My final night in the Crystal Wasteland, and my first in the old Equestria. Hmm. I had an ominous feeling about this, so I made sure to put the goggles on.

Finally, there was the figure of Cadance I had purchased at Hospitality. I took the figure out of the case, and held it in my hoof. I could still admire it for its beauty, but that was it. This figurine had no personal value for me anymore. Have Faith. No, faith would only weigh me down from here on out. I needed to have strength, courage, and bullets. Faith would lead me nowhere but to the grave.

“Loving other ponies. Doing good works. Not killing. That all sounds like a fine life to live.”

Lyra had said those words to me during our stay at Tombstone Radio. The night before she died. A death caused by devotion to a false goddess. Lyra had a point about killing. I could make it a point to not kill unless it was to save my life, or the life of another. But even if I continued to support Cadance’s ideals, I could never support her as a goddess ever again.

I set the figure on the ground, and started digging. Well, “digging” was hardly the right word. It was closer to moving clumps of dirt out of the way until there was a large enough crease in the ground. It certainly did not seem large enough to be called a hole. However, it more than enough for my purposes. I placed the figurine into the ground, and gradually covered it with dirt.

Have Faith.

No. Not in you.

I sat down on the ground, and stared up at the clouds. It had been getting gradually cloudier the further Carbine and I walked. Now the sky was fully covered in clouds. I hoped it would clear up soon. I hated not being able to see the stars.

I cast a glance at Carbine. He was still sleeping, and now he was drooling. Thank goodness he had not done that while I was dragging him. Carbine. The only friend I had left. I hoped he was resting well. He would need it for tomorrow.

I peered through Savage’s scope, and gazed into the Wasteland. I needed to keep watch while he slept, but I was beginning to tire. I fished into my bag, and retrieved my radio. I wondered what kinds of signals I would find out here. It took a bit of fiddling, but I finally found something that was not static.

“Howdy, all. It’s your favorite DJ, Honest Jack, here to give you some news, tunes, and good vibes. And trust me when I say, have I got a story to share with you….”

Footnote:
Level Up!
New Perk: Family Ties. You managed to incur the wrath of you beloved family and get somehow convince them not to kill you. Guess blood really is thicker than water. Speech increased to 75.
Quest Perk: Wasteland Wanderer (Part One). You survived the first part of your journey! That's worth a S.P.E.C.I.A.L reward, if ya know what I mean? All S.P.E.C.I.A.L is increased by one point.

Fallout: Equestria Crystal Hearts
Severance

Author's Note

BOOM! FINISHED…-well, sort of. But more on that in a second. First, thank yous. As always, thank you to Kkat for creating Fallout: Equestria. That story is a major inspiration to me. Besides the obvious, it also helped me work out the kinks of another project I really wanted to work on and I am extremely grateful for that. But not only that, FO:E is one of my favorite works of fiction and is one of the reasons I got back into reading after neglecting it for a few years. So, once again, thank you very much, Kkat.

I also want to thank other writers. While I will maintain my stance of avoiding using side stories in Crystal Hearts, I still enjoy seeing what others have come up with. I never would have decided to work on Crystal Hearts if it hadn’t been for other side stories, so thank you.

I also want to thank my contributors. My friends who listen to me rattle on about my ideas, and give me honest feedback. My professor who edits every chapter, as well as my pre-reader, Raryn. And to Sw1tchbl4de for creating that awesome cover art.

And, of course, I want to thank my readers. Knowing that I have people who read my work motivates me to continue writing. It’s been almost a year since I started posting chapters of Crystal Hearts, and I’m so glad I’ve had people to share this time with. Your support is greatly appreciated, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy the story in the future.

Now, time for some announcements. As I said at the beginning of the notes, the story is finished. At least, this part of it is. Like how a symphony is broken up into multiple movements, so too is Crystal Hearts. These first eleven chapters make up the first movement, Severance. One way to view this chapter is that it’s a season finale. But like all season finales, it’s going to be followed by a hiatus.

Work on the next movement, Coalescence, will begin soon. But I also need time to focus on law school, as well as my other writing projects that aren’t Crystal Hearts. I’m hoping to start posting chapters around July, but that’s just an estimation. However, I can say for sure that when chapters do start updating they will be updated regularly.

So, that’s it from me. Hope to see you all again soon.

2.0: Fairchild Casino Royale

Chapter 2.0 Fairchild Casino Royale

“History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.”

“Howdy, all. It’s your favorite DJ, Honest Jack, here to give you some news, tunes, and good vibes.”

The pony at the card table tipped his hat to the radio.

“And while I’ve got some stories for you today, I’m more in the mood for some music. And since I’m the one who decides what I do, music it is! So, here’s a little number for all you Steel Rangers in Vanhoover. It’s called, ‘The Highwaymare.’”

“Oh, I like that one.” The pony reached towards the radio’s dial with his metallic griffin claw. He turned the volume up and started whistling along with the song.

There was not much else in the room with him aside from the card table and radio. Four of the five chairs around the table had a Sparkle Cherry near them. The fifth was accompanied while by a glass and bottle of red wine. Each of the four walls had a turret lodged into it. The turrets constantly swiveled on their hinges, as if they were searching for threats. Their sanguine laser sights frequently passed over the pony, but they never once fired.

“The Highymare came riding—riding—riding—The Highwaymare came riding, up to the old inn door.”

Thud. Thud. There were two knocks on the large metallic door. The pony nodded to himself and touched a button below the card table. Click. The door swung open, and four ponies walked into the room.

The first to enter, because she shouldered her way to the front, was the only unicorn in the group. Her pint-size indicated she was half-way between a filly and mare. Yet she strutted with the confidence of a Princess. Her pretty amber eyes flashed at the pony at the card table. “Fairchild,” she stated in her sniveling, grating voice.

Fairchild tipped his hat to her. “Slaughter. You’re looking….” His voice trailed off as he admired her form. Her soft white coat, the bright red curls of her mane. The succulent nape of her neck. The bright red pendant, with the shimmering green and black aura. “Well.”

Slaughter snorted and took her seat at the table. She sat to the left of Fairchild and fiddled with a loose thread in her brown barding. Fairchild found his mind beginning to wander as he stared at her. The thought of her replacing that dirty garb with the uniform of one of his waitresses gave him goosebumps. Then there was the thought of her sitting on his lap, wearing nothing at all.
“Bess, the landlord’s daughter, plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black mane.”

His fantasy was interrupted when a hoof tapped him on the shoulder. Beside Fairchild stood a tall, dark blue, batpony ghoul. His leathered flesh was mostly concealed beneath his white lab coat. He wore contact lenses which created the illusion that he had the eyes of a normal pony.

All four turrets swiveled towards the ghoul, but Fairchild waved them off.

The ghoul let out a gravelly laugh. “Funny how you never seem to check your weapons at the door.”

Fairchild chucked in turn. “House rules, Cornelius.”

“House rules,” Cornelius mused. “That term has a whole new meaning once you’ve been imprisoned for over one hundred years.”

“Maybe you should have been imprisoned for more.” Clunk. Clunk. The armored earth pony entered the room with disgust present on his light green face. Despite the impressive plating, he seemed almost naked with all his weapons detached. “It’s what your kind deserves for what you did in the war.”

Cornelius sat across from the earth pony and eyed him with a thin smile. “My kind? I assume you mean traitors. After all, as they say, it does take one to know one, Templar.”

“I didn’t betray the Rangers. I simply—”

“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t realize you simply raped that poor mare. My mistake.” Cornelius sat on Fairchild’s right. His tail slithered around the bottle of red wine and poured a glass. “Pardon me, Templar, but I fail to understand how you have the moral superiority in this situation.”

Templar was silent for a moment before he answered. “I don’t. But I can find solace in knowing I didn’t betray my race. Nor was I locked in Cloudsdale’s Ninth Circle.”

“Ahh. My home sweet home.” Cornelius took a sip of wine. Crimson liquid splashed against his lips. He ran his tongue across his horribly chapped lips, removing any trace of the wine. “Speaking of which, how is your experiment progressing?”

Templar flinched at Cornelius’ choice of words. “Failed Wish is progressing just fine, thank you.”

“Failed Wish?” Slaughter leaned back in her chair and started laughing. “That’s a fucking retarded name.”

Again, Templar flinched. “A lady’s language should not be so coarse.”

Slaughter’s laughter subsided into a giggle. “Aww. Does the big bad tin-stallion have a heart, after all?” She reached a hoof towards Templar and banged on his chest. She snickered at the echoes. “Oh, a big one. Probably much bigger than his cock.”

Templar did not flinch that time. He simply took his seat beside Cornelius. He turned his attention towards the door. “We’re waiting on you, Fickle. Or does the NCR simply not care for other ponies and their time?”

“My apo…po…po…po.” There was a deep breath. “My apologies.” Fickle glided over the table and took his seat in-between Slaughter and Templar. He folded his black wings neatly behind his metallic purple barding. A bright red sash with the words, “Northern Canterlot Republic” adorned his neck. A patch was sewn onto his chest with an emblem of a pony overlooking the Canterlot castle. “I was distracted. We’ve had our hooves full with making Equestria a better place.”

Slaughter rolled her eyes. “It’s all just self-righteous bullshit if you ask me.”

“I don’t believe he did,” Cornelius added with a chuckle.

Slaughter narrowed her eyes, and a solid white glow enveloped her horn. Cornelius’ eyes glowed behind the contact lenses, and a shadowy mist leaked from his eyelids. His mouth opened with a smile. A smile which revealed his long, curved, fangs.

Slaughter wrinkled her nose, and the glow around her horn faded. “Vampire, fucker.”

Cornelius picked up his glass and observed it. “I suppose it does bear a resemblance to blood.” He flicked his gaze towards Slaughter and grinned. “One of these days I just might sample yours.” He titled the glass towards her, as if to toast, and casually finished his drink.

Slaughter snorted and turned her whole head towards Fairchild. “Well? Deal the fucking cards.”

Fairchild raised his hoof and metallic claw in a defensive posture. “Easy, Slaughter, easy. There’s no harm in waiting for everypony to get comfortable before we start.”

Slaughter glared at him. “Tell that to every filly you’ve fucked.”

He glared right back. He stretched out the talons of his griffin claw and imagined raking them into her side as he fucked her from behind. The thought sent a wave of good feelings throughout his body. Enough for him to focus on the task at hoof. He reached his claw into his vest and produced a deck of worn out playing cards.

Slaughter shook her head. “You’ve probably memorized all the cards by how worn out they are.”

“You know me too well.” He reached back into his vest. “Which deck do you want then?”

“She wants no deck of yours, that’s for sure,” Fickle mumbled.

Slaughter dropped her head on the table as she laughed. She stared directly into Fairchild’s eyes as the laughter continued. A laughter that gradually devolved into moans of, “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Fairchild’s eyes weren’t on Slaughter; they were on the freshly unwrapped deck of cards he cradled in-between his hooves and claw. “Better watch what you say, faggot.” He stomped one of his back hooves and started shuffling the deck. The turrets immediately turned towards Fickle and covered his body in dark red laser sights. “Like Cornelius said. I don’t check my weapons at the door.”

The only audible sounds were of Fairchild’s shuffling, the low hum of the turrets, and the radio’s continued song. “His eyes were hollows of madness, his mane of moldy hay.” Fairchild finished shuffling and placed the deck onto the table. A smile formed on his lips, and he stomped his hoof again. The turrets moved away from Fickle, but their ominous hum remained.

His metallic talons drummed against the top of the deck. “I’m only fucking with you, Fickle. I wouldn’t kill you over a joke. Especially one that’s legitimately funny.” He flicked his talons twice, and two cards sailed towards Slaughter. One was face down, the other was the Jack of Hearts. He repeated the action and acquired two cards of his own. His face up was the Ace of Diamonds. “Show order first. Hit or stay?”

Slaughter lifted her cards, and she waved her hoof. “Stay.”

Fairchild lifted his cards. His face down was the Seven of Diamonds. Eighteen or eight. Eighteen was a solid number, but eight would be worth the hit. He rapped his hoof against the table twice and flipped over another card. Queen of Clubs. Eighteen again. “Stay.” He flipped over his hidden card and smiled.

“Ha!” Slaughter flipped over hers as well. Queen of Hearts. “Twenty, cunt. Which means I get to show my toys first.”

She slid her cards towards Fairchild, who quickly shuffled them back into the deck. “Very well. You get first show.” He started to deal out the cards again. He dealt fifty three cards between all five ponies. “Now we play for picking order.”

Templar picked up the cards in front of him. “What game?”

“I’ve become quite fond of old mare recently.”

Slaughter snickered. “That’s a first for you, fillyphile.”

Fairchild chuckled, and he touched another button on the bottom of the table. The wall behind the card table parted, revealing a large screen. On the screen was an image of three ponies. Two of them wore tight black barding, and the symbol of a metallic griffin claw was plastered on their flanks. Both ponies held beam pistols in their mouths and pointed their weapons at the third.

The third pony was in chains. Despite his immense size, he appeared terrified. His good eye twitched constantly. The scorch marks around the socket implied why his other eye was considered bad. There was a hole in his head where his horn should have been, and there were deep scars around his chest and flank.

Slaughter stood up straighter and smiled when she saw him. “He was a good toy. Took longer to break than most.”

Fickle threw a pair of Jacks on the table. “You mean you’re selling damaged goods? Again?”

Templar snorted, as he slid a pair of eights onto the table. “When has the NCR ever cared about the condition of a pony?”

Fickle threw all four fives, a pair of tens, and a pair of Aces on the table. Then he slammed his remaining cards on the table and locked eyes with Templar. “The Northern Canterlot Republic exists for the purpose of—”

“Ushering in a new era of peace, prosperity, and order to the Wasteland.” Cornelius threw all four Kings, two Queens, and a pair of threes on the table. “Interesting how you don’t have liberty in there. But I suppose a Republic built on the backs of slaves would collapse without them.” He cast a glance at Slaughter. “How strong is his kick?”

Slaughter threw all four sixes, a pair of nines and pair of sevens on the card pile. “I had him crush a pony’s skull beneath his bare hooves.”

“By any chance did you happen to bring the headless body?”

“Of course. It won’t get any work done, but it’s still fuckable.”

The sides of Cornelius’ mouth twitched. “That was more information than I wanted, but thank you anyways.”

“You all make me sick.” Templar tossed the other pair of Jacks and Queens on the table, as well as a pair of twos.

“Ah, yes. Our white knight.” Fairchild dropped one pair of aces onto the table. “Tell me again, Templar. What exactly did you do to get discharged again?” When Templar was silent, Fairchild smirked. He threw a pair of twos on the table. “Oh, now I remember. You had an interest in the Star Paladin’s daughter. She said no, and you had your fun anyways. And, if I’m right, you nearly beat her to death when she rejected you.” Then he placed a pair of fours on the table.

“I’ve changed since then. I’ve found the Light.”

Slaughter rolled her eyes. “Not that fucking journal again. I swear, Templar, you’d have been that mare’s bitch if she were still alive.” A slight blush formed on Templar’s cheeks. Slaughter’s response was to cackle. “You would. You actually would.”

Templar opened his mouth, but he was cut off.

“Ponies don’t change, Templar.” Cornelius placed a hoof on the statuette around his neck. He stared at the rainbow pegasus with a grim smile. “Not really. Sooner or later they return to their original natures. It’s just a matter of time.”

Fickle sighed. “Speaking of time, are we going to play cards or not? The NCR could use a few more recruits.”

Fairchild nodded and waved his claw towards Fickle. “Go ahead and start.”

Fickle stretched out one of his wings and plucked a card from Slaughter. He frowned when he saw it. “Damnit.”

“Now I know not to pick that one. Likely the lone Joker.” Templar reached out with his hoof, but Fickle quickly swapped the order of his cards.

Templar picked a card. He grimaced when he saw the card. “Sneaky son of a bitch.” He turned towards Cornelius and presented his cards.

Cornelius reached out with his tail, but he hesitated. “Aren’t you going to shuffle your cards first?”

Templar shook his head. “I don’t play unfair. I believe everypony should have a fair and equal chance at victory.”

Cornelius shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He snatched a card with his tail and dropped a pair of sevens onto the pile. He presented his cards to Fairchild, while his eyes were fixed on the stallion on the screen. “He would be a fine addition to my armory.”

Templar and Fickle both flinched at Cornelius’ words. Slaughter snickered at the two of them. Fairchild’s only reaction was to take a card from Cornelius. A four. Fairchild discarded the four along with its match.

Slaughter levitated a card from Fairchild. She looked at the card and immediately laughed. “Ha!” She took another card from her hand and tossed it onto the pile with her new one. Two threes. She presented her lone card to Fickle. “Ready to finish me off?”

Fickle plucked the card with his wing. “Gladly.” He dropped a pair of eights on the table. He reached his wing towards Slaughter, and she responded by giving it a victory slap.

Templar eyed his own set of cards with a sigh. “I’m likely going to lose.” He fixed his eyes to Fairchild’s two cards. “I’ll take the one on the right.”

Fairchild dropped the card face down on the table. He flicked one of his metallic talons, and the card slid towards Templar. Templar flipped the card over, and he dropped another nine on it. He pushed the pair of nines into the pile with his tail, while offering his cards to Cornelius. Cornelius grabbed a card and grimaced.

Fairchild took the other card from Cornelius; in his hoof and claw were a seven and a ten. Templar had two cards, while Cornelius had one. Given Cornelius’ grimace, it was likely he had taken the Joker from Templar. Which meant Templar had a seven and a ten as well. Templar would have one pair, and he would be out of cards once Cornelius took one. Then Fairchild would have a fifty-fifty chance of losing the game.

“Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warmed him—with her death.”

Templar took the ten, and his other card was taken by Cornelius. Cornelius turned his body, and shadows leaked from his eyes. His cards were obscured by a cloud of darkness. Slowly, the darkness retreated back into his eyes. The batpony turned towards Fairchild. “Choose wisely.”

Fairchild took the card on the left. The Joker. He gripped both cards in his metallic claw. He shuffled the cards with his talons. The cards danced across his claw as a blur, frequently trading places. After twenty-seven swaps, Fairchild presented the cards to Cornelius.

Cornelius chuckled, as he waved his tail back and forth. “You can’t fool these eyes, Fairchild.” Cornelius grabbed the ten with his tail and slapped it on top of the others.

“Ha!” Slaughter smiled mockingly at Fairchild. “House always wins my flank.”

“Quite right.” Fairchild’s eyes admired Slaughter’s flank. “I will win your flank.”

Slaughter rolled her eyes and looked at Fickle. “What do you want to know about Muscles?”

Fickle’s reply was quick and curt. “Nothing. I pass.”

Slaughter’s face scrunched up. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. “May I ask what the fuck for?”

“Because he—” Fickle turned to face Slaughter, but he flinched away from her gaze. He turned his head with a cough and looked at the screen. “He’s damaged goods. He’s too skittish to be a soldier, and if you’ve played with him he probably won’t want to breed either.” Slaughter stood up straighter after that remark. Fickle pointed to the stallion’s legs with a wing. “He looks too damaged to be an effective worker. And if he won’t fight, fuck, or—hmm, what’s an alliterative word for building?”

“Fortify,” Cornelius offered.

Fickle snapped the feathers at the end of his wing. “Thank you. And if he won’t fight, fuck, or fortify, I don’t see the point in wasting my pick on him.” He used his wing to grip his Sparkle Cherry and took a short drink. “So, pass.”

Slaughter sank back into her chair. She sighed and waved a hoof. “I’m passing too. I don’t want to keep him.”

Templar’s eyes were fixed on the screen. “He’s perfect.”

Fickle snorted. “Perfect for what? Look at him. He looks like he can barely walk.” Again, Slaughter perked up at Fickle’s comment.

Templar continued to stare at the pony on the screen. “Exactly. Failed Wish exists to give ponies like him another chance at a meaningful life.”

Cornelius raised a hoof. “That’s all well and good, Templar, but I want that stallion as well. What if I trade you my next two picks? You would get to pick twice in a row in the next two rounds.”

Fickle rubbed his chin with his wing. “What are you ponies seeing in this stallion that I don’t?”

Cornelius stretched his own wings and smiled. “Simple, Fickle. The NCR is focused on what a pony can provide right now; I am focused on their potential. And I believe that stallion has plenty of potential.” He swiveled his head towards Templar. “Trade?”

Templar snorted. “I refuse to trade a pony.” He tapped his hoof twice on the table. “I’ll take him.”

Fairchild nodded. “The first pick has been made.” He reached into his vest and produced a small radio. He pushed a button on the radio and began to speak. “He’s Templar’s pick. I have the next show. Bring out Passion.” He placed the radio on the table and smirked.

The scarred stallion was escorted away, and he was quickly replaced by a young, light grey mare. She wore a tight-fitting, frilly, pink dress. She batted her light blue eyes towards the screen. Fairchild gestured to the screen with his claw. “Gentlecolts. Slaughter. May I introduce you all to Passion. She’s been a dancer at the casino for the past five years. If you want some pleasurable company, I can personally recommend her services.”

He sighed with a shake of his head. “But, alas, she’s getting cabin fever. She wants to see Equestria, or what’s left of it. She’s at the age where she’s looking for love. As you all know, that makes her too old for my tastes.” He paused so Slaughter could let out her disgusted chuckle. “She hasn’t worked off her debt so I can’t just let her go. Thus, she’s open for taking.”

Fickle rubbed his chin with his wing. “Looking for love, you say. That is tempting. She could be a breeder. And even if not, we could always use morale boosters in the NCR.” As if she heard him, the mare blew a kiss towards the screen. Fickle groaned. “I think I’ll have to pass. Unfortunately….”

Slaughter’s nose wrinkled as she shook her head. “I’m passing too. I don’t want any toys you’ve already played with.”

Fairchild let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Very well then. Cornelius?”

Cornelius wasn’t looking at Fairchild or the screen. His gaze was fixed on Templar. “A pretty young mare like that. She’s not the type of pony I usually bring black to Cloudsdale. But I suppose the prisoners could use a…-what did you call her Fickle?”

“Morale booster?”

Cornelius clicked his tongue twice. “Ah, yes, that’s the term. They could use a morale booster. But, with the right leverage, I can let her leave here with you. Maybe she could replace that Ranger you were so fond of.”

Templar’s face displayed both disgust and disbelief. “Leverage? How can you say something like that about a fellow pony?”

There was no mirth in Cornelius’s ensuing smile. There was even less empathy in his eyes. “I am a batpony ghoul, Templar. There is nothing ‘fellow’ about that mare and me.”

Templar glowered at Cornelius. “I won’t give you the stallion. I already told you I refuse to trade ponies as if—”

“Spare us the self-righteous horseapples, Templar.” Slaughter hopped onto the table and trotted over to Templar.”

Fickle turned towards Fairchild. “Is she allowed to do that?”

Slaughter lashed her tail in Fickle’s direction. “He’s going to get a prime view of my flank. He’s not going to say no.”

Fairchild didn’t say anything; he was too focused on his prime view.

Slaughter leaned forward so that her face was almost touching Templar’s. “You’ve shoveled so much shit down our throats that I’m about to fucking gag. We treat the slave trade like a game. ‘Cause, guess what, it fucking is. A game you have no problem playing with us. So don’t for a second think you’re better than us you self-righteous cunt.” She finished by jabbing her hoof into his chest.

Templar replied by flicking his hoof against Slaughter’s forehead. The impact sent her skidding a few hoof-steps away. She rubbed her head, and glared defiantly at Templar. “Try that again, and I’ll ram my horn so far thro—”

“The old me wouldn’t have needed to try again.” The sharpness of his tone made the others flinch. Even Cornelius twitched. “The old me would have crushed your skull without a second thought for daring to speak to him like that. But I’m not like that anymore. The Light changed me. The Light makes me better.” He rounded on Cornelius. “That stallion is now a part of Failed Wish. I will not turn him over to you under any circumstance.”

Cornelius took one more sip of his wine, which left his glass empty. Without taking his eyes off Templar, he refilled his glass with sparkling blood red wine. “Pass.”

Fairchild took a drink of Sparkle Cherry. “Pass, which means Templar is free to take her.”

“I will.” He tapped his hoof twice.

Fairchild spoke into his radio again. “Congratulations, Passion. You’ve been chosen by Templar go return with him to Mailed Fish—”

“Failed Wish.”

“Whatever. To start a new life. Make sure to give him a proper thank you.”

Passion curtsied, and she blew another kiss to the screen.

Fairchild snickered at Templar. “You’re welcome.”

Templar turned his head and coughed, but there was no hiding his blush.

“Awww.” Slaughter was leaning back in her chair. Her back hooves rested on the table, while her front hooves pressed against her cheeks. “You gave him a pump station. That’s so sweet.” She outstretched her tongue and made a gagging noise.

Fairchild took a much longer sip of his drink. “Your turn, Slaughter.”

“Oh, I know.” Slaughter closed her eyes and giggled. “This one’s for you, you sick fuck.”

Passion had been escorted out. In her stead were two nearly identical mares. Both had maroon coats, and they each had a large white patch around their left eye. Both had dark blue eyes, dirty black manes, and a deep green locket around their necks. The main difference between the two was one mare was fully grown with a cutie mark, a pair of hooves wrapped around a heart, while the other was a blank-flank filly.

“Mother and daughter. Package deal. I wonder if anyone wants that filly.” The wild lust in Fairchild’s eyes were the only reply she needed. Slaughter’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “This is too rich. Fickle, please tell me you want them. That would be the icing on the cake.”

He rapped his wing on the table twice. “I do.”

Fairchild’s metallic talons twitched. “Care to say that again?”

“Ye…-ye…yes I.” Fickle cleared his throat. “Yes. I want them. Well, I—hey don’t glare at me like that. I only want the mother. I can trade you the filly.”

Fairchild folded his hoof and claw. He rested his chin upon them, and he leaned towards Fickle. “What do you propose?”

“I want your next two picks, and your first pick for our next meeting.”

“Done.”

Fickle, who had been drinking from his Sparkle Cherry, began to choke on his soda. He pounded his chest with his hoof until the choking spell had ceased. “Forgive me. I’m just surprised you took the deal so willingly.”

Fairchild shrugged. “You underestimate how much I want that filly.” He leaned down towards the small radio. “The mare is Fickle’s; the filly is mine. I want her in here after the meeting. Get her ready.”

The guards separated the mother from her child. The mother struggled against her captors. She kicked one in the shin; she tried to buck the other with her back legs. She missed and fell onto her belly. The second guard then knocked her unconscious with his pistol.

“Momma!” Tears soaked the filly’s tender cheeks. The guards did not use force to subdue her. Not after what Fairchild had done to the last guard who had injured a child. Fairchild watched the scene unfold before him with a warm smile.

“Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.”

The meeting continued, but Fairchild paid the others no heed. The blood running through his veins burned as he thought of the filly. How she would tremble at his touch. The taste of her virgin lips. The sound of her crying for the Momma. Beads of sweat poured down his body. “Ohhh, yessss….”

“Fairchild?”

Cornelius’ voice snapped Fairchild out of his trance. He wiped his face with his hoof. “Yes?”

“The meeting is over, Fairchild. We’re leaving.” Cornelius finished the last bit of wine. “As always. Your choice of wine was superb.” He patted Fairchild with his tail as he glided out of the room.

Fickle’s face bore an expression of concern. “Does your dick owe you money or something?”

Fairchild raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Slaughter approached Fickle’s side and giggled. “Oh, we were just wondering. Ya know, ‘cause you were beating it like it was.” She raised her hoof, and Fickle slapped it with his wing. The two walked off together, snickering as they left.

Fairchild clapped his hoof and claw together. When he saw Templar’s incredulous expression, he simply shrugged. “What? That was actually funny.”

Templar shook his head. Without saying a word, he stood up and walked by Fairchild.

“You’re not even going to say goodbye.” Templar’s answer was to keep walking. “Leave the door open. I’m expecting company.”

Templar stopped walking. “Do you know what your vice is, Fairchild?”

Fairchild finished his Sparkle Cherry with a relaxed sigh. “My insatiable desire for young girls?”

“No. It’s your arrogance. One day, you’re going to be feeling completely untouchable. And someone’s going to burst through that door and put a bullet through your head.”

“Oh, really now?” Fairchild’s eyes glinted. The turrets swiveled towards Templar. “Is that a threat?”

“No. Just a hunch.” Templar resumed his walking. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Eventually, Fairchild was unable to hear the hoofsteps. He heard nothing but silence. Even the radio was quiet. Honest Jack must have gone on break. The quiet was deafening. So much so that Fairchild drummed his talons against the table solely to hear sound. “What does that self-righteous fuckboy know? Nopony, griffin or any other abomination will ever put a bullet through my head. I’ll make sure of—”

“Mr. Fairchild?”

“Yes?” His voice cracked from excitement. He quickly cleared his throat and turned around. “Yes?”

There she was. The maroon filly had been clothed with a lacy blue dress and black socks. Blush had been added to her cheeks so they could appear more succulent. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Fairchild?”

Fairchild licked his lips. “Yes, my dear. Would you mind coming closer?”

She gingerly stepped towards him. Fairchild’s heartbeat quickened with each step. It was almost time.

“Mr. Fairchild, where’s my Momma?”

He brushed her cheek with his hoof. So soft…. “I’m sorry, my dear. One of my friends has your Momma. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

She sniffled. “You will?”

Fairchild drew an “X” over his chest with his talons. “Cross my heart.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fairchild!” She wrapped her tiny hooves around his waist. “Thank you so much.”

He stroked the back of her neck with his claw. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “No, my dear. Thank you….”

Fallout Equestria: Crystal Hearts
Coalescence

Author's Note

Hey, all! Crystals is back. And on the night of the return of season 6. Psshing! I had picked July hoping to have some material to post, but it was kind of an arbitrary date. But everything’s gone really well. I was able to finish my other book and finish my edits, and I had plenty of time to work on Coalescence after. I’m really excited to be venturing into the Equestrian Wasteland.

And what an uncomfortable way to do it. But, I felt it was necessary. Part of what makes the Crystal Wasteland different from the regular Wasteland is the civility. Yes, there are still terrible people who do terrible things. But for the most part, it’s a civilized society. Even the True Cadanites seem like likeable people once you take away their zealous bigotry. At least, that was the intent. But here, there’s little to no civility. And I thought there would be no better way to capture the moral desert of the Wasteland than through the eyes of a child molesting slaver. It might not have been the funnest way to return to Crystal Hearts, but I am glad to be back.

And, as always, a special thank you to Kkat, other FO:E writers, and the readers of Crystals. Sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter. I hope the upcoming chapters will be worth it. See ya in a month!

2.1: Strangers in a Wasteland

2.1 Strangers in a Wasteland
“There is no safety this side of the grave.”

Symphony

I hated this place. Home was not perfect. Far from it. The scar on my throat was a testament to that. But it was leagues better than the Wasteland. I may have hailed from a land of a false Goddess and Fallen Angels. But here, there were only demons.

“And then I shot the fucking grenade. That was hooves down the most awesome thing I’ve ever done!”

Demons and Carbine. The two of us had been walking all day. It was sunset now. I could tell by the colors of the cloud cover, and by the gradual fading brightness in the sky. I narrowed my eyes at the sky. I hated the cloud cover. I missed seeing the celestial bodies in the sky. The moon and all her phases. The stars and constellations. The beauty of the golden sun.

The same gold I had seen in Lyra’s eyes. I started walking significantly slower. Images flooded my mind. Lyra trotting down to the basement. The massive fireball. Seeing the pieces of her splattered body. Stepping on her eye….

Something hit me on the head. Ouch. I rubbed my head, and I moved my glare from the clouds to Carbine. My companion gazed back at me with a grin. “Thirteen gave me permission to hit you if you ever got too mopey. I’m happy to do it again.”

I chuckled internally. That did sound like something Lyra would say. I did not want to mope, but it was hard not to. I had loved Lyra for a long time. I missed her, and I was not ready to move on. I doubted I would anytime in the near future.

He hit me again. “Hey, look, a distraction!”

I appreciated the sentiment. Carbine wanted to get my mind off of Lyra. He was likely pointing to a rock or something else innocuous. I humored him, and I removed my binoculars from my saddlebags. I peered through them an—oh. Oh, my.

I saw a bonfire a little ways away. A group of maybe a dozen ponies were dancing around the bonfire. No, that was wrong. They were not dancing; they were copulating. Most of them used knives as they did so. One mare’s ear was slashed to the point it nearly dangled off her head. I saw a stallion being rutted by a knife. There was another stallion who—sweet Holy Mother not above. How could any stallion allow a mare to do that to him?

I turned my head away. It was as abhorrent as it was disgusting. So much so I actually threw up in my mouth. I used my hoof to cover my mouth so I would not retch on the ground. Then the image of what that mare was doing to that stallion appeared in my mind’s eye. My hoof was not enough, and I threw up.

“Come on, Symph. I wanna look!” I passed Carbine the binoculars, as I continued to throw up. The maroon moron started jumping. “Oh shit, a blood orgy! Can we go, Symph? Please, please, please?”

It had a name? I was less surprised that Carbine actually knew it had a name. I shook my head. Absolutely not.

A maniacal grin appeared on his face. Oh, no. “Too bad. Going anyway.”

I reached out a hoof to stop him, but he was already gone. Idiot. Damn idiot. I chased after him. He was much faster than I was. There was no hope of stopping him. Only that the damages would be minimal.

He eventually stopped running, and I stopped as well. We were close enough to the other ponies to see them in detail. They all looked terrible. Their bodies were haggard; most of them had scars. Some of them were missing their eyes. On that front, Carbine would have fit right in. Of course, there was also blood. So much blood everywhere. The stallion who had been rutted with a knife was lying in a heap over a pool of blood. I was pretty sure he was dead.

Carbine whistled loudly. With the exception of two stallions giving each other fellatio, the intimate mutilating ceased at once. “Hey, mind if we join you guys?”

The mare with the dangling ear licked her lips. “Look, boys. Fresh meat.”

I did not appreciate the implications of that sentence. Especially given the meat on a spit in the center of the bonfire. I sank my teeth into the bit of my battle saddle. Memento and Savage both fired. Memento’s bullet struck a dry heaving stallion in the throat. Savage’s hit a mare giving fellatio in the head. Given the scream of the accompanying stallion, I assumed I had struck him in the head as well. Sorry.

Anarchy and Tenacity levitated besides Carbine. The stallions pleasuring each other were quickly killed by Anarchy, while one of Tenacity’s shells hit the stallion rutted by the knife in the head. If he was not dead before, he was now.

My initial estimate of a dozen had been off. There had only actually been about seven ponies. Only two of them were still alive. The stallion I had accidentally shot in his stallionhood. The other was the mare with the dangling ear. Before I could shoot her, she tackled me. We fell over, and she had me pinned to the ground. Now she was trying to stick a knife through my heart. Hmm. There was something eerily familiar about this. “I wonder if your insides sparkle too,” she laughed.

And I wondered how long this mare had gone without a shower. She smelled absolutely terrible. Both of my forelegs were fighting off her knife. She was not making progress, but neither was I. And she did have the advantage of gravity on her side. I could really use Carbine right about now. As if on cue, the mare’s head exploded into red paste.

“Need help, Symphy?”

I did not have to look to know Carbine was wearing his maniacal grin. I responded with one of my own, as I pushed the headless corpse off of me. I stood up and shook the dust and blood off of me. Carbine cocked Tenacity, and he trotted to my side. He observed the mare’s body with a shake of his head. “That’s a waste of a damn fine body, Symph. You could have really used her.”

I cast my eyes downward on her corpse. I supposed if it had not been for the dangling ear I would have found her to be pretty. But I was in no hurry to start a new relationship. Particularly not one which involved cutting each other. I raised my hoof and made a cyclical motion. Survey the area, and take what you can find.

Carbine cracked his neck and licked his lips. “Lootin’ time. Symph, what’re we looking for?”

I picked up the mare’s knife and examined it. It was small and rusty. Hardly a dependable weapon, but it would have to do for now. I had lost my last knife at Tombstone Radio, and Lyra’s horn had been crushed beneath my sister’s hoof.

Lyra…-would want me to focus on survival. And to survive we needed provisions. I tapped the side of Savage, opened and closed my mouth, and then pointed to the sky.

“Ammo, food and water?” After I nodded, he saluted me. “I’m on it.” Carbine trotted off and started inspecting the bodies around the fire.
I went to investigate the tents. There were three of them, and each was in terrible condition. Hmm. Damaged tents. Dead ponies. Looting with Carbine. There was something familiar about this. I clutched the knife in my mouth. Just in case there were ghouls lurking around.

I entered the first tent. No ghouls. Instead I found a small storage of food and water. The keyword in that sentence being small. There were five canteens. I poured all of them into my mostly empty canteen. Collectively, they held roughly one fourth of a full canteen. Good thing I was growing used to being thirsty.

I took a few sips; immediately, I felt a surge of energy. The water was heavily irradiated. I wondered if that was why those ponies had lost their minds. It was possible overexposure to radiation caused a non-crystal pony’s sanity to deteriorate. If my hypothesis was correct, then there were two unavoidable truths. One, all the ponies in this part of the world were crazy. Two, it would be possible for Carbine to become even crazier. I felt my coat crawl at the thought.

The food stores were about as impressive as the canteens. There were cans, but most of them had been emptied onto the ground. Idiots. I also found slabs of meat, but…-no. After seeing what they were doing to each other earlier, I had no way of knowing if the meat in front of me was pony or not. I did not like the idea of eating meat, but I could do it. But I would never eat another pony. That was one standard I could still adhere to.

The next tent was a drug den. Two stallions lay inside. Their eyes were half open and dazed. Both of them noticed me. One nonchalantly turned away, while the other grinned. “Hey, there, handsome. Want to go on a trip? I’ll let you ride my rocket.”

I ignored him and started rummaging through the tent. I did not touch the inhalers or pills. I only went for the Med-X syringes and healing potions. I still had some chems left from Doctor Zimri, and I figured Med-X had the greatest benefits. However, I needed to be conservative with my uses of Med-X. I would rather not have a drug addiction.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” I looked back at my suitor. He was gaunt, and his coat was dirty. But his green eyes glowed. “I said I want you to take a ride on my rocket.”

I shook my head.

The grin on his face was gone. He slowly got to his hooves and made his way towards me. “Maybe you didn’t understand me. I sa—”

I rammed the knife into his eye. He screamed, but he was also too distracted to fight back. I pushed him down with my front hooves. While he was on the ground, I slammed my hoof onto the pommel of the knife. The knife went further into his head and killed him. I ripped the knife away, and I cast a glance at the other stallion. He raised his hooves in the air with a whimper. I also noticed that he wet himself. I could kill to protect myself and my family. This pony was not a threat to anyone. Congratulations, unknown stallion. You get to see tomorrow.

I entered the third tent an—I immediately went back to the other tent and stabbed the stallion I allowed to live in the throat. Then I stabbed him again, and then once in the eye. Just to be certain.

I began to breathe heavily. Then I just collapsed onto my rump. I rubbed my head. I felt no joy in killing him, any of them really, but it had to be done. Rule 1, I could kill to protect. Rule 2, I could kill ponies that did not deserve to live. I was not exactly sure at the moment what conduct fell under rule two. I supposed I would know it when I saw it. I certainly saw it in the third tent.

I returned to the tent and cast my eyes on the flayed foal. In addition to having no coat, and no eyes, chunks of meat had been removed from the body. The meat I had seen in the last tent had been too big to belong to the foal, but it probably had belonged to a pony at some point. I tried to loot the rest of the tent, but my eyes kept returning to the body. I did not want to look, but I could not look away. I ultimately left the tent without taking anything.

Orchestra and her companions may have been savages, but even they would have never stooped so low.

I was met outside by Carbine. He was trotting towards me with a skewer floating beside him. Small chunks of meat rested on the skewer. “I found some ammo for Anarchy, but none for your shit.” He took a bite of the meat and chewed it happily. “But I did find this. I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m eating, but it’s good shit. Want some?”

There was no doubt in my mind he was eating the foal. My instincts screamed at me to knock away the skewer. If he argued, then I could show him the body of the foal. But what would be the point of that? The foal was already dead. His body was already defiled. Stopping Carbine would just put the meat to waste. As callous as I felt thinking that, I knew it was for the best. I did not want Carbine to have to see that. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

I shook my head.

“Alright, suit yourself, Symphy.”

Carbine walked towards the fire, and I followed him. He cleaned the meat off the skewer, while I had a can of beans with a baby tomato. At least the tomato had tasted good. The beans tasted like two hundred years. It was a taste I did not care to reflect on.

“Hey, Symph?” Hmm? I raised my head to look at Carbine. My companion was feeding the crackling fire with pieces of the skewer. “You don’t believe in the Goddess anymore, right?”

I shook my head. No, Carbine. Not at all.

“But, what about an after? Like, hmm.” He smacked his lips as he stared into the fire. “Do you think we’ll see our friends again?”

I highly doubted we would. I was not sure if I believed in any kind of afterlife now that there was no Goddess to run it. Even if there was, I knew it had to have some sort of vetting system. If I was to survive out here, I would likely have to do horrible things. Since I had already killed eight ponies, excluding the ghouls at Tombstone Radio, it was safe to say I already had. I could not speak for my friends, but I did not expect to make it through the vetting process.

I also knew that was not what Carbine wanted to hear. So, I gave him an answer that was both cynical and optimistic. I shrugged.

Carbine nodded, but did not say anything. For a while, he remained quiet. The two of us took a few drinks of the canteen and inspected our weapons in silence. I cleaned the blood off my new knife in the firelight. Great Goddess not above, this was disgusting. I tried to wipe the blood on the ground. For the most part it did not work. Eventually, I just used the straps of my saddlebag. Perhaps the bloody straps could intimidate other ponies away. Doubtful, but possible.

“Alright, Symphy, pick a number between one and six.”

I stomped my hoof three times.

“Motherfucking fuck!” Carbine groaned loudly and levitated Anarchy and Tenacity beside him. “You guessed the number, so I’m up first. Enjoy your rest. Lucky bastard.”

I grinned at him. I stood up, bowed, and took my belongings into the first tent. Then I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

***

I was having a nightmare. I had been having a lot lately. Most of them involved Lyra dying in different ways. I had seen her die the same deaths as Sombra, Missile, Joab and Doctor Zimri. Of course, I had seen her actual death a few times as well. However, tonight’s nightmare did not star Lyra. No, it was Missile’s turn in the limelight.

I had peered into the tent, and I was attacked by the feral ponies. They tied me up and forced me to watch what they did to Missile. They took turns sodomizing and mutilating him. He screamed for me to help him the entire time. I struggled in my bonds, but they were too tight. The harder I struggled, the more they hurt him. So I eventually stopped. I watched as they plucked out his eyes. As they plucked his wings. And then I watched as they used their knives to skin him alive.

I woke up around the time they started eating him. I slowly sat up and took a drink of the irradiated water. It was beyond vile, but I did feel better after drinking it. Perhaps irradiated water could be my drug of choice. I doubted a water addiction would be especially deadly.

Speaking of deadly, I peered outside the tent to scan my surroundings for any potential threats. Nothing popped out immediately. Even so, something felt off. I doubted I would be falling back asleep, so I might as well take watch. The least I could do was let Carbine get some rest.

I approached him and noticed his guns were on the ground instead of levitating beside him. Was he sleeping? I tapped him on the shoulder. He promptly fell onto his side. Yes, he had been sleeping while he was on watch…-he had been sleeping while he was on watch! Goddess-damned moron! I nearly woke him up by kicking him in the face.

I did not. I was still upset, furious even, but there had been no harm. I supposed I could forgive him. This time. I sat with my saddle equipped on my back. It was uncomfortable. I also put on the night vision goggles. They were not exactly designed for comfort either. It was a good setup, though. Unfortunately, I was also incredibly bored. I fished my radio out of my bag and started listening.

“Now that I’ve played my music, it’s time for the news. Here’s an update on my favorite mare in the whole wide Wasteland, the Hoarder.” Honest Jack sighed, and I took that time to turn up the volume. “Seems like just yesterday nopony knew who she was. And now she’s the Knight of the North. Last I heard, she was clearing out a raider nest near the Sugar Favor Fun Store. Folks near Neighagra sure must be singing her praises right about now.
“And if she’s not feeling very appreciated, then maybe the Hoarder can canter up here to Vanhoover and exterminate some of our bugs. And I’m not just talking about the radroaches.” Honest Jack laughed. “But it’s not just the Hoarder who’s out there. I’m starting to hear reports of a couple ponies from the Crystal Wasteland coming into our neck of the woods. If either of my newfound friends are listening, welcome to the Wasteland. And if you two don’t come in peace, I hope to Celestia you cross paths with the Hoarder.”

A jazzy, but somewhat somber, filled my ears. I turned the radio down so that the music was mostly background noise. This was not the first time I had heard about the Hoarder. According to Honest Jack, she had emerged from a Stable, whatever that was, a few weeks ago. She was well-known for two things. One, helping other ponies however she could. And two, for having a massive amount of junk. Carbine would have loved her for that.

I wondered if she was a pony worth following. Helping other ponies could give a purpose to my life beyond simple survival. If there was a vetting process for a hypothetical afterlife, being with the Hoarder could help me score some points. But my primary purpose was to preserve my life, and the life of my family. Travelling with the Hoarder would no doubt prove hazardous to my health. Besides, I had no obligation to random ponies.

I only—what was that? I fiddled with the night vision goggles and zoomed in on a spot. I saw a mare walking alone. The barding she wore appeared to be hide. Thankfully, it did not appear to be pony hide. I could make out a holster attached to her ankle, and I assumed there was a knife strapped to one of her boots. There were darker patched on her hide and streaks across her face. Likely blood.

I took aim with Savage. This mare was potentially dangerous. I could kill her right now and avoid any potential trouble. That being said, she could also be a potential friend. Maybe she would be willing to join Carbine and I. The more of us there were the safer we would be. For all I knew, this mare could be the Hoarder.

Actually, what if she was? She did not seem to have a lot of possessions, but perhaps she had dumped her things in her sanctuary. I was still unsure if I wanted to join in the Hoarder’s adventures, but maybe she could point me towards a good community. Somewhere I could start a life. Just as Lyra and I had wanted.

I started to follow her. I decided not to tell Carbine. He would want to follow me, but the idiot still stomped around when he walked. If this pony was an enemy, Carbine would prove to be a liability. Especially if he was still tired. Besides, there did not seem to be any ponies around. I would be back before he even knew I was gone.

I followed the mystery mare for a short while. Every now and then she would stop and look around. I fell onto my belly each time she did. She did not approach me, or fire her weapon, so I assumed she did not see me. The mystery mare finally stopped walking just outside the mouth of a cave. She removed the pistol from her holster, and she fired three shots into the air. Then she holstered her pistol and waited.

I got back onto my belly and crawled closer. I was still a ways away from her, but I no longer needed the zoom of my night vision goggles to see her. On second thought, I doubted I needed the goggles. I removed them and viewed the mare without a green tint. Her coat was grey as a heap of ashes, while her mane was dark orange.

“You’re late, Corporal.”

The mare immediately stood at attention. She raised a hoof in salute. “Sir! I had trouble getting away from my assignment, sir!”

Ah, so there was another pony. I tried to find him, but he was hidden inside the cave.

“Deep undercover, Corporal?”

“Deep undercovers. Sir!”

“Very well. But remove your disguise, Corporal. I’m getting sick just looking at it.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

I must have been stung by a vulpa as I slept. Maybe the raiders had slipped some sort of chem into their water before I drank it. Those explanations actually made sense. What I was seeing now did not. A baleful green light enveloped the mare. Starting from her hooves, the light slowly dissipated. Her body turned a maleficent shade of black. Insect-like wings sprouted from her back, and a small black horn protruded from her forehead. There were holes in her hooves. It was almost as if parts of her body had just fallen off.

I had heard of creatures who could change their shape. Creatures whose true forms resembled the unholy combination of an insect and the corpse of an alicorn. The Book of Cadance referred to them as demons. Demons led by the False Goddess they called their Queen. The Goddess did not exist; Shining Armor confirmed that himself. But the demons she fought were real.

I readied Savage. The mystery mare was not a pony; she was a monster. I had a better way of phrasing my second rule. Rule 2, monsters existed to be slain. I fired.

Her companion, another demon with a purple chest piece, had stepped out of the cave. I nearly screamed, or whatever sound I made was, when I saw its face. Two large fangs jutted from its mouth. Its eyes were a piercing blue. Its entire eye. There was no pupil or iris. Only a blue sclera.

The mare, or whatever it was, had bowed her head. Thus, my bullet missed. Instead, it tore through her companion’s hoof. The severed hoof fell to the ground, and black blood oozed from the wound. The crippled demon screamed as he clutched his hoof. There was a bright green flash, and he vanished.

I cocked Savage and aimed at the other demon. She had reverted back into the white mare. Her disguise would not dissuade me. A wolf in sheep’s clothing was still a wolf. The only problem was she strafed as she ran. That, and she started shooting at me. I stood up and began moving. Aside from the cave, this was an open space. My only hope was to keep moving and search for an opening.

One bullet sailed far away from me. A second clipped my tail. A green beam of magic hit me in the chest. The impact knocked me off my hooves. As I fell to the ground I fired both of my guns just in case I hit something. I tried scrambling to my hooves, but the burning in my chest was too overwhelming. I fished out one of the healing potions I took from the tent; I gulped it down. The burning in my chest began to soothe. I scrambled to my hooves and prepared to take off again.

But there was no need. I had struck her in the throat with one of Memento’s hollow point rounds. She stood in front of me, choking violently on her own blood. Her demonic-horn had sprouted from her head, but the rest of her true form remained hidden. Demons could partially transform. Good to know. The mare’s horn began to glow. I braced myself for another magical blast, but none came. The mare’s final act of magic was hiding her horn. Her final act was to spit blood at me and smirk.

Her blood splashed me in the face. Oh, right. I had forgotten my tradition of being covered in the fluids of my enemies. I had not missed that. I wiped her blood off my face. I almost flicked my hoof to remove the blood. No, I could do something with this. I brushed my bloody hoof across Memento. A remembrance of another death. Eight ponies. A few ghouls. One demon.

I inspected the demon’s body to see if she had anything worth taking. Not particularly. I did take her pistol. A 10mm if I was correct. It was not a great weapon, but it could serve me well. Her knife was also a little larger than the one I currently owned; I took that too.

Now, back to my idiot. I put the night vision goggles back on, and I made my way back to Carbine. Bang! I heard a lone gunshot. A gunshot that came from the direction of Carbine. Oh no. I broke into a full gallop. I adjusted the zoom on the goggles until I could see—oh.

Carbine was surrounded by ponies. Ponies armed to the teeth. Four ponies encircled him, while a fifth stood in front of him. Each pony wore a similar hide as the demon. Each hide was stained with blood. The pony in the middle had the most blood on his hide and face. He must have been their leader.

He was shouting something, but I was too far away to hear. Carbine said something I was also unable to hear. Whatever it was, it earned him a hoof to the face. What they were saying did not matter. What mattered was he was harming my family. I readied Savage. If my aim was true, then the leader would receive a bullet to the head. I had the bit in my mouth, and I nearly fired my shot.

Click. I heard the reading of a pistol behind me. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to shoot you. I just wanted to get your attention. Mind turning around, friend?”

I did mind turning around. Carbine was in danger, and I had a chance to save him right now. Time spent dealing with this stranger was time not spent helping him. But what else was I going to do? My new “friend” had a gun aimed to my head.

If he wanted to he could have killed me already. The fact that he did not made me want to trust him. But for all I knew, he wanted to take me captive for other reasons. Or perhaps he would rob me blind without an actual murder on his conscience. His voice was also eerily similar to Reverend Bones’. I knew that pony was dead, but I still had a bad vibe.

I turned around. In front of me was a ghoul garbed in a brown trench cloak and tattered brown hat. A revolver levitated in-between the two of us. The silver barrel glowed unnaturally in the moonlight. There was no green and black aura around it, but it made me just as uncomfortable as the skull at the Cemetery. Though that might have been because it was pointing at my forehead.

“I saw you pointing your gun at those ponies over there.” His gun pointed forward towards Carbine and his attackers. “You can do whatever you want, but I just thought I’d let you know that it’s a really bad idea to shoot at them.”

I raised one of my eyebrows.

“Four reasons, friend. One, bullet drop. If you’re aiming for his head, you’ll just hit his shoulder from this distance. Two, you’re outnumbered. So, not only will you piss off the leader. You’ll also have that entire gang come after you. Three, I’ve seen that group around a few times. They’re violent, but they generally don’t kill unless a pony pisses them off. But they’ll probably kill your friend out of spite, and then come after you. And four. Because if you leave them alone now, you have a better chance of being able to save your friend later.”

I took some time to process that information before I acted. My best case scenario would be to kill the leader and for the others to scatter without him. I doubted that would happen. Even if I did manage to kill the leader, the others probably would come after me. I could get lucky and pick off another from a distance, but I did not like my chances. Especially since there was a chance they could kill Carbine anyways.
But that meant having to leave him. Not too long ago, he had saved my life. I needed to have another pony out here watching my back. Since he was my family now, I wanted it to be him.

The ghoul cleared his throat, and he lowered his gun. “I won’t stop you, friend. I have a group of raiders I need to kill. But if you want to survive the night you should come with me. You might learn a thing or two about the Wasteland.” The ghoul tipped his hat and trotted off.

I cast a glance behind me. The lead pony was continuing to pummel Carbine. I could not watch this. So I removed the night vision goggles. Without the zoom I could not see far enough to witness Carbine’s beating. I was not abandoning him. I was simply biding my time until I could rescue him. I just pray—hoped he would survive until then. Just hold on, Carbine. I will save you. I promise.

I tore my eyes away and followed after the ghoul.

Footnote: Level Up!

No new perk this time, though. What? You think this is a charity or something?

Author's Note

I want to take a brief second to discuss raiders. The raiders in Crystal Hearts are not affected by the raider virus from Project Horizons. The group at the beginning just happened to be completely and utterly batshit insane. Some groups of raiders might be like that, but most groups will have some semblance of intelligence. On that note, Symph’s theory of radiation shouldn’t be read into too much. Just him musing.

As always, thank you to Kkat for writing the original. To other authors for contributing to the 'verse. And to my readers. I hope you continue to enjoy Crystal Hearts. Until next time!

2.2: The Hoarder, the Raider, and the Hellhound

2.2 The Hoarder, the Raider, and the Hellhound
“All shall be done, but it may be harder than you think.”

My companion and I were huddled behind a large rock. He was looking through my binoculars, whilst I was checking our ammunition reserves. Memento had five hollow point bullets left, as well as four armor piercing. Savage’s rounds were almost all armor piercing, with two explosive tipped bullets. There were six bullets loaded into the 10mm, which I had yet to name, but it had no bullets in reserves.

Then there was the Stranger’s gun. He called it Glimmer. According to him, Glimmer only used “special” bullets. These bullets were hard to find. However, they were strong enough to down a hellhound in one shot. If I knew what a hellhound was, I might have been impressed. Since I did not, I had to wonder why killing something in one shot was a source of pride. Generally, anything was killed if a bullet hit it in the head.

He returned my binoculars to me. As he did so, he pointed into the distance with his hoof. “Second floor.”

I peered through the binoculars. I saw a two story building quite a ways away. The letters on the side read, “Sugar Favor Fun Store.” There were balloons outside the store. No, scratch that. Instead of being rubber attached to string, pony heads were attached to pieces of string. They were tied around the letters like macabre decorations. The letters themselves had faded into a drab and unhappy brown. Funny how un-fun the place looked.

Hold on a second. Sugar Favor Fun Store? I recalled Honest Jack mentioning the name on the radio. I cast a look at my companion. By chance, was he really a she? A wandering mare hell-bent on destroying the scourge of the Wasteland? I supposed it was possible she was the Hoarder. If so, I was about to stroll headfirst into danger for no personal or familial benefit. If the Stranger was not the Hoarder, then I was about to stroll headfirst into danger for no personal or familial benefit. Great.

Second floor he…-she…-the ghoul said. I took a peek, and I saw a pony was urinating off the side of the balcony. Some ponies had no sense of decency. Though, in his defense, I doubted he knew he was being watched.

“First lesson, friend. Always find the sniper.”

Hmm. Sure enough, there was a sniper rifle resting against the railing. Seemed we had found the sniper. I gazed into Savage’s scope. I aligned my sights with the unfortunate stallion’s head. Now all that was left was to fire.

“Not at this distance. Not unless you let Celestia guide the bullet herself. We’ll get closer, and then I’ll tell you to fire. But if he sees us before I give the signal, shoot him anyways.”

I nodded without taking my eyes away from the stallion. I heard my companion start to move, and I cast occasional glances his way as I followed him. For the most part, my attention remained on the urinating stallion. Goodness, how much water did he drink?

Another pony, a mare wearing a large hat fitted with a pink feather, stepped onto the balcony. I swiveled Savage so that I was aiming at her head instead. I immediately noticed just how blue her eyes were. They contrasted well with her scarlet ponytail. Her eyes also went well with her light pink dress. The dress had a pronounced collar and frills around the mare’s flank. Her cutie mark, a whip entwined around a bejeweled crown, was fully exposed. That made for terrible armor.

I moved Savage back to the stallion. He had stopped urinating, and he seemed to be shouting at the mare. From the way he was waving his hoof around, I assumed he was trying to dismiss her. If I had to guess, I would assume she was telling him to pay more attention on guard duty. He was telling her there was nothing to be worried about. And as soon as she turned away, I would shoot him in the head. Though I supposed it was also possible she was angry at him for not doing the dishes.

Finally, the mare turned her back on the stallion. Her scarlet tail slapped him across the face when she turned around. She said something and trotted back into the store. The stallion rubbed his cheek. His lips were moving; I assumed he was muttering a profanity. My own mouth tightened around the bit. We were closer than we were before, but my companion still had not given me the command.

I did not know the pony I was about to kill. He was likely a threat given his sniper rifle, but I did not know that for sure. Rule 1 was uncertain as to his fate. But if the balloons outside were anything to go by, he and his companions fell under Rule 2. Even if they had not put them up, they had not taken them down. They sounded like monsters to me.

“Fire away, friend.”

I chomped the bit. Savage fired. Nine ponies.

The stallion’s body fell over the edge of the balcony. I took that time to quickly eject the spent cartridge and replace it with another. I checked the entryway again. Another stallion appeared on the balcony. I fired again. Ten ponies. I replaced the cartridge again and waited.
After a few minutes, my companion tapped me twice on the shoulder. “They won’t be replacing that guard after losing two ponies. By now they’ll have fortified the entrances.” I looked away from Savage’s scope, and I watched as the ghoul removed the final grenade from my necklace. “I need to borrow this.” I said nothing, obviously, as he inspected the grenade. He and nodded to himself, and it became enveloped in a magical glow. He moved the greande to the store’s entrance. “I’d keep one of your rifles trained on the door right about now.”

I lined Savage’s up with the floating grenade. I stomped my hoof twice to signal I was ready. The ghoul’s throat rumbled, the pin was removed, and the grenade dropped. A series of simultaneous explosions followed. The explosion kicked up a large heap of dust, and it shrouded the doorframe. The last image I saw before the dust shroud was the door coming off its hinges.

“Mines. A lot of raiders will leave mines at their front doors. It seems welcome mats went out of style years ago.” Good to know.

The wind began to pick up. It carried with it a loud whistle. The smoke began to dissipate, and I was able to make out three ponies. One was a strong looking unicorn with a shotgun resting on his shoulder. On his side was an auburn earth pony mare with a dirty brown mane. The other pony was the mare in pink. The stallion trotted in a circle, and he was whistling the whole time.

The auburn pony was twitching. “I don’t see any body parts.”

Whistler nodded. “Of course you don’t. Because there’s nothing left of ‘em.”

The mare in pink took a step backwards. “Or because they set off our traps and are waiting for us.” She took a few more steps and was hidden from view.

“Pfft.” Whistler spat at the ground. “As if. Even if they didn’t get caught in our traps, they’re probably too scared to—”

Eleven ponies.

The auburn mare screamed, as chunks of her companion’s face splattered her coat. She scrambled towards the door. I fired a shot from Memento. Luckily for her, I missed. I looked back at the ghoul. Glimmer was levitating beside him. He titled his head towards the door. “Want to go first?”

I shook my head.

“Good. Means you’re learning.”

The ghoul trotted forward, and I followed behind. On the inside, the Sugar Favor Fun Store was a massive a nightmare fetishist’s playhouse. The first thing I saw was a receptionist sitting behind a desk. Only the receptionist was a mannequin with a real head and four legs. Given how the color differed between each body part, I assumed she was formed from five ponies.

I tore my eyes away from the receptionist. Unfortunately, the rest of the first floor was not much happier. I saw a few rooms around the building. Each was equipped with a viewing window along with a label. The first was “Baker’s Cove.” I could see the oven was open, and there was a dead pony inside. The heads of other ponies had been done up to look like desserts. The blood icing was an eerie touch.

The second was called “Party Room.” It was decorated with bright paint, confetti, and streamers mixed with pony entrails. I tore my eyes away from the Party Room and found something much worse: “Cupcake Room.” It was almost exactly the same as the party room, but it had one extra addition. The corpses of dead children. I hoped that seeing the corpses of children would not become the norm for me. Finally, there was “Balloon Menagerie.” Judging from the décor outside, I could only imagine what I would find in there.

I gazed at the ceiling. Two large banners hung from the rafters. On the left side was a pink mare with purple eyes and a dark purple pony-tail. On the right side was a blue stallion with a fuzzy blue mane. The mare’s banner had the word “SUGAR” printed in bright pink letters. The stallion’s said “FAVOR” in bright blue. Surprisingly, neither banner had yet to be defiled. Give it time.

I stayed close to the door, while the ghoul moved past the reception desk. Every few steps he pivoted his body, as well as Glimmer. “Keep your eyes peeled. You never know when something migh—”

A large claw sprang out of the ground. For a split second, I saw the fear in the stranger’s eyes. Then I saw his body be torn in two. His body parted vertically, and Glimmer clattered to the ground. Another claw sprang from the ground, but it clawed at nothing. It did succeed in enlarging the size of the hole. Soon after, a monster immediately burst from the base of the staircase.

It was massive; I figured it was at least double my size. The beast was covered in shadow black fur. It stood on in its hind legs, which I was actually quite thankful for. There were claws on all fours legs, but a bipedal beast meant it would use less claws to kill me. All in all, the beast resembled a large mutated dog.

Oh, so this was a hellhound.

I expected the hellhound to charge at me. Or at the very least to roar. But it did nothing. It just sat still. Almost as if it were waiting for orders. That did not make any sense. This monster could not be a pet! Could it? It did not matter. All that mattered was taking Glimmer. I had no interest in avenging the ghoul. I had not known him long enough to call him a friend. Besides, this whole excursion had been his idea. As far as I was concerned, he had gotten himself killed. But if Glimmer was as potent as he described, I could use it to save Carbine.

The good news was I spotted Glimmer. The bad news was it was closer to the hellhound than it was to me. If I broke into a full gallop I might be able to pick it up and shoot. I immediately thought of three reasons why that was a terrible idea. One, the battle saddle. It would weigh me down too much if I kept it on. If I dropped it, the only weapon I would have would be the 10mm pistol. I doubted the pistol would even tickle the hellhound. Let alone wound it. Two, if I rushed the hellhound it would likely respond aggressively. Given those claws, I did not want that.

And three, assuming I grabbed Glimmer without being killed, I would still have to shoot it. Being able to grab and fire a weapon with my mouth was difficult enough. Doing so on the move would be almost impossible. I would also likely only be able to fire one shot before the hellhound ripped into me. No pressure.

“You there!” The mare in pink was standing at the top of the stairs. Her blue eyes bore into me like icicles. “Stand down and drop your weapons.”

The hellhound was looking at her expectantly. Ah, so she was the mare in charge. Suddenly her cutie mark made a lot of sense. All I had to do was convince this pony not to kill me. I removed the battle saddle along with my saddlebags, and I threw up my hooves in defense.

The mare in pink continued to glare at me. “Now would you mind telling me what business you have killing my ponies?”

I tilted my head towards the ghoul’s body.

The mare in pink flicked her gaze to the ghoul’s corpse, and then she looked back at me. “You were only following him?”

I nodded.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

I tilted my head back to show her the scar on my neck.

Her eyes widened, and I noticed her glare had started to subside. “A pony who can’t backtalk or share any of my secrets. Hmm.” She massaged the bottom of her chin with her scarlet tail, whilst her hooves started tapping. A sound I was all too familiar with.

My eyes began to wander while I waited for the mare in pink to move. I did not want to look into the rooms or at the hellhound, so I gazed back at the reception desk. Oh, right. I had forgotten about the mannequin. I was about to return my focus onto the mare in pink. Then, to my shock, I saw another pony.

A small, light green, mare was sitting with her back to the reception desk. The barding she wore consisted of a blue jumpsuit, but patches of it had been replaced with hide and other types of fabric. Aside from her face, only her right foreleg was not protected by barding. Instead, it was protected by some sort of device. I remembered seeing a similar device on the non-crystal ponies I had shot before entering the waystation. Come to think of it, they wore a similar style jumpsuit as well.

She turned to face me, and she used a hoof to move her dirty brown mane out of her face. There was no animosity in her large brown eyes as she looked at me. She touched a hoof to her lips and winked.

Hmm. This gave me options. I could reveal the existence of this mare to the one controlling the hellhound. It would increase my standing with the mare in pink, and I would likely get out of this situation alive. No. I was not quite that callous yet. The green mare did not seem to bear me any ill will. It would not feel right to turn on her. Especially if she could get me out of this predicament. Perhaps she could help me save Carbine. Something I doubted the mare in pink would be keen on doing.

I winked back.

“And what are you looking at?”

I turned back towards the mare in pink. I quickly rubbed my eye. Hopefully she would think I had not winked, and that I was trying to remove some dust from my eye. She narrowed her eyes. “I was considering letting you live. You could have made a decent bodyguard. But I’ll be honest. I don’t trust you. And I’d sooner die tha—”

Bang.

A bullet tore through the air and struck the mare in pink in the cheek. And then it exploded. She screamed, as a chunk of her face was torn off. She clutched her gaping wound with her front hooves and collapsed on the ground. I watched her writhe in pain, as her bloodcurdling screams continued. Not turning over the green mare seemed like a really good idea right now.

“Pony will pay.”

Oh, right. There was still the hellhound. I tensed my leg muscles and prepared to spring, but the hellhound did not run towards me. Instead, it barreled towards the Balloon Menagerie. I could see the green mare through the window. How had she gotten in there so quickly? There was a small hole in the window, I assumed that was where the bullet had sailed through, and the hellhound swiped one of its claws there. The glass shattered. I did not hear the sound of flesh being torn, so I assumed the green mare was still alive.

Since the hellhound was occupied, this was my chance. I galloped towards Glimmer. I reached it just as the hellhound had jumped through the hole in the glass. It swiped with its claws. I grabbed Glimmer with my mouth. It leapt forward with another swipe. I took aim and pulled back the hammer. The hellhound turned back to look at me. I fired.

A bullet as silver as the light of the moon sailed through the air. I had been aiming for the monster’s head. Instead, I hit it in the shoulder. Great, I missed. Fortunately for me, that did not seem to matter. The hellhound’s body began to convulse. Its blood began to pool within its body, and its body began to concave. Good Goddess not above. It was like looking at a larger version of Doctor Zimri.

The hellhound collapsed onto its knees; it opened its mouth and vomited blood. The hellhound made its way towards me on its knees. However, I felt no fear of it. It was moving so slowly, and it continued to retch blood. The beast would die before it got anywhere close to me. And so it did. The hellhound eventually collapsed in a pool of blood. Now I could add a hellhound to my body count.

I spat Glimmer on the ground and stared at it. One bullet had thoroughly destroyed a monster that strong. What was it that made Glimmer’s bullets so special? And why could it only fire those? And, more importantly, how many more special bullets could I find?

“You killed them.” I turned around to find the auburn mare standing behind me. She was shaking in place, and I could see the poor thing had wet herself. “You killed them all. Why? We didn’t do anything to anypony. We only just got here two days ago. We found this place like this. We wanted to turn it into an actual store again.”

I was not an avid user of profanity, but I found only one phrase coming into my mind. Fuck. I had justified killing these ponies based off their ghastly choice of décor. I thought they were monsters. I had been too quick to judge. These poor ponies had paid for my mistake. I took a step towards her.

Then her head exploded. Chunks of her face splattered on the ground. Her right eye landed on my nose. Hmm. I wondered if that counted as a body fluid.

“She was lying.”

I turned around. The green mare was standing behind me. Actually, the term mare was a bit of a stretch. This mare was very small. She was not a filly, but I did not think she was quite a mare yet. A revolver levitated next to her head. Was gun levitation the only thing unicorns in the Wasteland used their magic for? It was ridiculous.

She lifted the device on her foreleg. I saw a diagram that vaguely resembled a map. I saw two dots on the diagram. One of the dots was small and red. The dot was moving, and it gradually grew smaller. I cast my eyes towards the staircase. Sure enough, the mare in pink had disappeared. I doubted she would last long with part of her face missing. I looked back at the green mare’s hoof-device. The second dot was large, blue, and stationary. “Red dot is a bad pony, a blue dot is a good pony, and a yellow dot is unknown. They were red, so I knew to take them out. You weren’t, so I didn’t want to shoot you. Really glad I didn’t.”

For a second I thought that was a sweet comment. Then I noticed something peculiar. Her eyes continued to dart around. It would have made sense if she were worried about something, but nothing else about her seemed frantic. Her cheeks were beginning to turn red an—she was checking me out. She was looking me up and down the way I looked at Lyra. The way I had ogled countless other mares. I had considered lustful leers to be a sinful practice, and I had tried to avoid doing it. Now that I was on the receiving end of such a look, I regretted it even more. I felt like—she was drooling now. Okay, time to stop this.

I cleared my throat. The mare flinched at the disgusting wet sound, and her eyes immediately returned to meet mine. Much better. She chuckled, as she rubbed a hoof through her short brown mane “Sorry about that. I just got, um…-distracted.” She started staring at my flank again. I swatted her cheek with my tail. “Ow!” She rubbed her cheek and muttered something.

I trotted away from her and gathered my effects. I slipped on my battle saddle and saddlebags. I also stowed Glimmer away. It was a terrifying weapon to be sure. That being said, I would rather have it in my hooves than another’s.

“Hey, wait!” The green mare ran towards me. “Where are you headed?”

That was a very good question. I had to save Carbine, but that was a “what” rather than a “where.” I had no clue where those ponies had taken him. Assuming they had not just killed him. I turned back towards the mare and shrugged.

Her already large eyes practically doubled in size. “Great. Um, so, I’ve got some stuff to do here. But, I’m tried. You wanna tag team for the night? I mean, since you don’t have4 anywhere else to go you’re not in a hurry, right?”

I considered her offer. I was in a hurry to save Carbine, but I had no idea where I was going. Even with Glimmer, I would be outnumbered five to one. That was operating under the favorable assumptions those ponies had no backup. I would get myself killed. Carbine would not want that. Neither would Lyra.

I nodded to the mare.

“Great!” She immediately plopped onto the ground. “I can get to work in the morning.”

I removed my bags, as well as the battle saddle. I sat down on the hardwood floor. It was far from comfortable. It was also extremely dusty. I sneezed.

“Bless you.”

I turned towards her to nod my thanks. As I did so, I caught her staring at my flank again. This was going to be annoying. She seemed to catch on. She turned away and started whistling. Her embarrassment lasted roughly four seconds. She gasped, before raising her head and gazing at me with half open eyes. “Hey. You wanna fuck?”

What. Did she really just ask me that? We had only just met. Not to mention that I was not interested in having relations with a mare not named Lyra. Even if I was interested, I was unsure of how old she was. I knew she was no longer a filly, but I would have felt uncomfortable the entire time. Though I was starting to get curious: just how old was this mare?

I pointed my hoof towards the window and the moon. It was shining brightly behind the cloud cover. I could not see the moon itself, but I could tell where it was. I traced a circle with my hoof to reflect the setting and rising of the moon. It was crude, but I could not think of another way to ask her age.

She bounced up and down, and she clicked her hooves together. “Yeah, I can go all night if you want.”

I blinked at her. It was the only response I could muster. Even if I could speak, I was unsure of what I would say.

“Oh.” The heavy disappointment in her voice made me almost regret rejecting her. “Is it because you don’t think I’m pretty.”

Ugh. This was going to be a long night. I closed my eyes and attempted to get some sleep.

“Hey. Um, sorry to disturb you one last time. But, I figure I should introduce myself. I’m Packrat.”

I hesitated a while before answering. Partly because I was tired and did not want to move. However, my hesitation mostly stemmed from a thought I had some time ago. I pressed my hoof to the dusty floor and wrote out my name.

“Well, then. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Savage.”

***

I awoke to something nibbling on my ear. I roughly moved away. The good news was my ear was liberated from being nibbled. The bad news was the coat of saliva around my ear. Why was I not surprised? I roughly shook my head and rubbed my ear with my hooves. I had finally decreased the saliva to a tolerable level. That I had a tolerable level at all was a testament to how much I had changed since Orchestra had slashed my throat.

Orchestra. Against my better judgment I pray—hoped for her safety for her happiness. While also wishing that someone or something would be able to avenge Lyra. Rest in peace, my love.

I was distracted from my thoughts by a sharp sucking noise. I turned towards the sound to find Packrat sleep-sucking on her front hoof. It seemed I had found the nibbler. I gently kicked her to wake her up. Packrat was on all four hooves with her gun aimed at my head faster than I could think “Oops.”

“Oh, hey, Savage.” Packrat holstered her gargantuan revolver. She lifted one of her hooves in a greeting. Her expression became one of shock when she was the dribble dripping down it. “Ah!” She shook her hoof, and hit it behind her back. “Ah, ha ha. Ha, ha. Ha.” Her expression grew gradually more weary with each laugh. Finally, she stopped laughing and sighed. “You totally saw that didn’t you?”

I nodded.

Her expression soured immensely. “Great job there, Packrat. You really fucked up dum-dum.” She continued muttered to herself until she slapped herself in the face. With the wet hoof. “Ew.” She groaned, and she looked at me with a shrug and half smile. “Be honest. On a scae of one to ten, how much of a spaz do you think I am?”

For the purpose of my analysis, I was going to assume “spaz” was a synonym for idiot. My initial reaction was to rate her quite high. However, I remembered what I had seen from her last night. She had been able to enter the building with nopony noticing. Not even the hellhound was aware of Packrat until she fired her gun. Speaking of which, she also seemed to have good aim. She may not have been altogether, she was still muttering to herself right now, but I had to respect her.

I tapped my hoof four times.

“Only four?” she jumped into the air, and she punched the air with her slimy hoof. “Wahoo! I’ll take it. Yes! Yes! Yes!” She had stopped jumping, but she was standing on her back legs, while her front hooves continued punching the air.

I could tell she was not going to stop unless I intervened. I found a pebble by my hooves. I aimed for her head and kicked it. The pebble hit her head, and she stopped.

“Ow.” She rubbed her head with her non-slimy hoof. God, she was learning. “I think something bit me. Oh!” She smacked herself in the face again. “I totally forgot to ask. What were you doing here, Savage?”

I pointed to the remains of the ghoul.

“Okay, so you followed him. Do you know why he was here?”

I ran a hoof across my throat before pointing to the raider Packrat killed.

“Killing raiders. Got it.” Wow. She was understanding me quite well. Aside from her “go all night” interpretation, she had a perfect record. She turned away and started muttering again. “Okay. He’s cute and a bit of a badass. Maybe I can get him to come back to Boulder Springs with me after we’re done here.” She gasped, and she clopped her hooves together. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. No way he can resist my femininityness for that long. Packrat, you’re a genius. I know, right?! Fuck, I’m awesome!”

She jumped onto her back legs. “Oh, boy, Savage. Have I got a proposition fo—” She spun around with a strangely shaped grin on her face. That was gone the second she saw my stone face. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

I did two things. First, I nodded. Second, I tapped the ground thrice.

Packrat chuckled awkwardly. She fell onto all fours and started making circles with her hoof. “He he. So, guess my spaz level’s down to three?” After I nodded, she sank onto her rump. Sorry for making such a bad impression. I just…-can I vent for a minute? I mean, we’re friends, right? We saved each other. So, venting’s cool right?”

I sat across from Packrat. I would not quite call us friends yet. But, she did help me out. The least I could do was let her vent.

“Okay.” She threw up her front hooves with a loud groan. Then they flopped to her sides. There was a pause. A very long pause. I gestured to her with my hoof. She blinked back. “Um, that was it. I’m done.”

What.

Packrat got to her hooves with a smile. “Thanks, Savage. I really appreciate you listening.”

You know what, Packrat? You are very welcome. I did not bother being confused. I had learned to deal with Carbine; I could learn to deal with Packrat. Carbine….

“How many?” Packrat’s question prevented me from wallowing in my problems. I would have thanked her for that, but she was not making eye contact. She was staring at the ground. I could still see the expression in her brown eyes. She was not avoiding eye contract due to embarrassment; she was doing it out of shame. “There were nine of us from 76. My friend, Toothpick, called us Digital Root. Know what that means?”

I shook my head.

She was still avoiding my gaze, but she must have noticed my nod. She started drawing math equations in the ground. 10 + 1 = 11. 1 + 1 = 2. 10 + 10 = 20. 2 + 0 = 2. “It’s what you get when you add up all the numbers in a number until there’s one number left. Get it?”

Yes. Although her explanation would have been clearer if she had incorporated the word “digit.” The sum of the digits in a number compressed in a single digit.

“Um, the weird thing is, adding a nine never affects the digital root. It doesn’t change. Toothpick also told us the digital root of 24 + 7 + 365 is nine. So, um, nine is sort of like the center of the universe. So, us being nine ponies being Digital Root made us the most important ponies in 76. And nothing would ever change us.”

She sighed deeply. She raised her head, but her eyes were closed. “I got kicked out of 76. As you can see from my cutie mark, I’m a thief. The Overmare wasn’t too fond of that or me in general. When I left, the rest of Digital Root came with me. We were going to take on the Wasteland together.”

She drew a tally mark in the dust. “Dartboard was stabbed to death by a raider. That psycho chewed on his knife before killing my friend with it.” She drew a second line. “Heartthrob was killed by Honeypot when Honeypot was hallucinating on dash.” Another line. “And I had to kill Honeypot to safe Toothpick.” Two more tally marks followed. “Sunshine and Moonscape got captured by raiders.”

She drew two final tally marks. “And Duststorm and Spyglass just left one night. Duststorm and I got into a pretty bad fight. She said some things, I said some things. We fought each other for a while. And after that we fucked to work out the rest of our aggression. But it wasn’t enough. I woke up the next day, and she was gone.

She opened her eyes after saying all that. To my surprise, she did not cry. Her eyes told me she wanted to. “I lost seven, Savage. Seven of my closest friends. I can see the same sadness in your eyes, Savage. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m just curious. How many have you lost?”

I answered by drawing my first tally mark: Sombra. I did not want to draw the mark. I would rather not dwell on my losses if I could avoid it. Primarily because I knew there would be moments when I would not be able to avoid it. After Packrat had shared her story, it seemed I felt the need to reciprocate her honesty.

My second mark was for Missile. The third was for Joab, and the loss of our friendship. The fourth mark was for me. I was not the same pony I was before I killed Joab. Not exactly. The fifth tally was for my faith in Cadence. Fitting her mark slashed through the others since their deaths were caused by her.

No. that was unfair to her. They died because of Shining Armor. Or should I have called him Reverend Bones? Either way, he was mark number six. Number seven went to my parents. Since I never knew them it seemed fair to give them half a tally each. Doctor Zimri was the eighty mark. Nine was ‘Chestra.

Tally number ten was…-ten was…-the tears burned as I made the mark. I acknowledged her death. How could I not? She was gone. I would never see her again. I did not know how I could ever move past that. I doubted I ever truly would. But, for now, I would have to. There were more important things than my feelings.

Said important thing was represented by the eleventh tally: Carbine. I marked his tally away from the others. He was gone, yes, but not dead. Not as far as I knew. I had a duty to save my “Bro.” I drew a circle around Carbine’s tally and stomped on it.

“You have to find your friend?”

Precisely. I nodded to her.

“Well, um, hmm. Okay. Plan. I’ve made a new home in Boulder Springs. Ever heard of it?” After I shook my head, she shrugged. “Eh, didn’t think so. Most ponies don’t. But the ones who do ask us to do jobs for them. And it was my job to clear this place of raiders and bring back some proof. So, um, I figure I can just bring back part of the hellhound, but I want to do some looting first before I go back. I—he he—I have a thing about collecting stuff.

“Anyways. Point. If you want, I can take you back to Boulder Springs. Mom’s willing to take in anypony that’s willing to help the community. If you earned your place in the group, I’m sure she’d give you some ponies to save your friend.”

Her words triggered a slew of questions. Who was Mom, and why had Packrat neglected to mention her earlier? What would I have to do to earn my place in Boulder Springs? Why was Packrat so willing to help me? Could I even trust her? I found my answer to her final two questions in her eyes. Namely, the fact that they were staring at my flank. She bore me no ill will. The only ulterior motive Packrat seemed to possess was lust. It would be annoying to deal with, but I could deal with it to save Carbine.

I touched my hoof to her chin and lifted her head. Eyes up here, Packrat.

Her cheeks flushed, and she started sucking on her bottom lip. For about three seconds. There was a spark in her eyes. She gasped, which caused her to stop sucking on her lip. “You didn’t swat me with your tail that time. That means tha—” I interrupted her by swatting her with my tail. Thank you for reminding me, Packrat. She rubbed her puffy cheek. “Um, never mind then. So, um, do you not want to come with me?”

I responded by outstretching my hoof. This was not a bro-hoof; I supposed it was more of a unisex hoof. Regardless of what it was called, it carried universal messages of friendship and acceptance. Packrat glanced down at my hoof. She looked up at me, and I smiled. She grinned in return and hit her hoof against mine.

“Savage, I think this is the beginning of a sexy-ass friendship.”

Footnote: Level Up! Dog Days Are Over. You can't each an old dog new tricks, but all dogs know how to play dead. 5% more damage on canine enemies.

2.3: The Maltese Unicorn

2.3 The Maltese Unicorn
“What else is there I can buy you with?”

My first official act as Packrat’s companion was to swat her with my tail. The second was helping her loot Baker’s Cove. The sight of the room from the outside had been atrocious. Nothing could have prepared me for the smell. It was foul. It was moist. It was…-fresh. Cadance not above, some of this had been recent. Packrat had been right about these ponies. They were monsters not fit to live.

Packrat’s nose wrinkled, as she stepped into the room. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, I noticed a steely-glint in her gaze. The same eyes my sister had when she got serious. “I’ll check the ovens. You’re taller, so you look in the cabinets. Sound good?”

I replied by opening the first cabinet. Empty. I moved to the second cabinet. There were two large bowls, a wooden spoon, an eyeball, and an open bag of funfetti. I cringed at the eyeball and closed the cabinet. The third cabinet had a large open bag of sugar. The fourth cabinet held a dead foal clutching a teddy bear. Thankfully the foal’s body had not been desecrated. It was a small satisfaction. I closed the cabinet with a shake of my head. At this point, it was all I could bring myself to do.

Packrat was halfway inside the oven. Her front half scoured the insides, while her hindquarters protruded into the air. I looked, but I did not stare. The idea of running my eyes over Packrat’s body felt uncomfortable for a number of reasons. Aside from her having a similar coat color to Lyra, Packrat seemed on the young side. I was no fillyphile, nor would I ever be. Her leers also made me too uncomfortable to want to reciprocate.

She pulled her head out of the oven with a metal grate in her mouth. Why was she holding that? She shrugged. “Whhhhhhha?” She then made a face. One I assumed meant she realized she could not be understood. She promptly spat the grate onto the ground and caught it with her hooves. “What? You never know when you might need something like this. Find anything?”

I shrugged.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Okay, Savage. You don’t know me all that well, so let me explain. When I asked you that, I didn’t mean did you find anything useful. I meant if you found anything at all.”

I was not sure whether I should have laughed or flinched. Packrat’s voice fully cracked. It was kind of cute. But that glint in her eyes was still present. If anything, they appeared hungrier.

I pointed to the cabinets with a nod of my head. The four of them were enveloped in a dark green light and swung open. One by one, the objects I had found levitated towards Packrat. Strangely enough, the bag of sugar jingled as it moved.

“He, he, he.” She rubbed her hooves and licked her lips. She was almost like the villain of a cartoon aimed at foals. She cradled the bag of sugar with one hoof, whilst rummaging through it with another. “Come on. I know you’re in there somewh—aha!” She ripped her hoof out of the bag. Dangling from her hoof was a small purse. She opened it and breathed deeply. “Ahhh. The sweet scent of caps.” She gave me a grin, as she rattled the purse. “You see, Savage. Just because something doesn’t seem useful doesn’t mean it’s not valuable.”

Hmm. I supposed I would have to keep that in mind. Packrat was too engrossed in the contents of her purse to levitate the teddy bear. If there had been money inside the flour, perhaps the bear held hidden treasures as well. I took the demon’s knife from my bag. I grabbed the bear with my hooves and prepared to plunge the blade through it. But, I stopped. The filly may be dead, but robbing her of her bear felt wrong. It would be like ripping apart one of Missile’s comic books in front of his grave. I would never do that to him. I could not do this to her.

I returned the bear and caught Packrat’s eye. For once, she was not ogling me. The hunger had left her eyes, and the glint had subsided. She gave me a sad, knowing, smile, and she continued to loot the room. By the time she had finished, her bags were stuffed with a plethora of bottle caps, baking supplies, and funfetti.

The only thing of use I found was a blue-banded grenade in a bag of flour.

The next room was the Balloon Menagerie. The room was exactly what it promised: a menagerie of balloon animals. There were the heads on strings as well, but I chose to ignore those in favor of the animals. There was a small pond with balloon frogs, ducks, and even a shark. I noticed a small grove of trees with small balloon monkeys, spiders, and frogs. There was a sand castle with a balloon crab and a frog. Why were there so many frogs?

Another more pressing question formed in my mind. Why did the room smell of blood? I turned towards the source of the smell an—oh. I had forgotten about the hellhound. Even in death it was terrifying. Its fangs glinted dangerously in the light. To say nothing of its claws.

Packrat trotted around the hellhound with a sour expression. “Hmmm. How am I gonna fit this guy in my bags?”

The answer was simple. She could not. However, all she needed was proof of its death to reap her reward. I approached the beast’s maw with my knife drawn. I pried open its jaws and used my knife to remove one of its teeth. I presented her with the tooth.

Confusion molded into her sour expression. “Um, thanks.” She took the tooth with her hoof. She sniffed it, shrugged, and placed it in her bag. “Okay. Now, um, how are we doing this?”

Clearly there were still miscommunication problems. An old adage popped into my mind: actions spoke louder than words. So, I got to work. I used the knife to remove the hellhound’s remaining teeth. Packrat stared at me, but she said nothing. She only scratched her head with her hoof. The knife, which was already in poor condition, began to dull by the fifth tooth. I cast it aside and used one of the other teeth instead. It was a significantly better knife. Once I had finished with the teeth, I started with the claws.

“Ohhhhh.” Packrat gasped. “You’re cutting it apart so we can take it back.” She clicked her tongue twice and raised her head at me. “I got you. So, um, okay. You do this; I’ll loot the other rooms. See you in a bit.” Packrat sprinted out of the room and headed towards the Cupcake Room. Good. That meant I would not have to see all the horrors that room held.

Dismantling the hellhound was much quicker with its tooth. This could be a knife worth keeping. I began to remove the hellhound’s paws with its claws intact. Removing the claws separately would have taken too much time and energy. Time and energy I would spend on skinning the beast. The more proof the better. The fur was also so thick and coarse I suspected it could be used as armor. I doubted it was bullet proof, I had killed it after all, but it might be able to weaken the impact of a bullet.

I rummaged through its fur to find a place to start cutting. I was at its shoulder when my hoof touched something cold and metallic. Glimmer’s special bullet. Curiosity took hold of me, as I inspected the wound. It was not deep at all. It did not even break through the fur. The special bullet had killed the hellhound without even touching its flesh.

I fished the revolver out of my bag. It resembled an ordinary revolver. Aside from its unnatural sheen and pristine condition, it was the spitting image of Faith. I checked the chamber. One bullet left. I removed it and held it in my hoof. Glimmer’s special bullet was exactly like the gun itself. It was shiny but otherwise unassuming. Yet, it was one of the most powerful objects in my possession. Its only rival being Doctor Zimri’s vial of Goddess. I slipped the bullet back inside Glimmer. It seemed I had a second last resort.

With my curiosity satisfied, I resumed skinning the hellhound. I was not going to remove all its fur. Just enough for Packrat and I to have a section to cover our chests with. My barding had been damaged during my battles with ‘Chestra’s group and the demon. Any reinforcement was welcome. Especially if it was proven to stop bullets.

With my saddle bags full of hellhound parts, I existed the Balloon Menagerie through the broken window. Packrat stood by the reception desk chewing on something. When she saw me, she offered me a piece of meat. “Want some?” I flicked my eyes towards the Cupcake Room; a shiver crawled up my back. “Oh no no no no no. It’s radroach meat. It’s crunchy.”

I felt wary as I stared at it. It was not pony, but I was still eating a once living creature. It felt wrong. At the same time, I was hungry. Alas, my appetence triumphed over my moral decency. I took the piece of meat and shoved it in my mouth. She was right. It was crunchy. It was also disgusting. I spat out the meat. Immediately, I took a long, irradiated, drink from my canteen.

Packrat shrugged. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Clearly. I stowed away my cantee—why was there a large bowl in my bag? I pulled it out and glared at Packrat. Her eyes bulged as she flushed. “Um, he he. Heh. Um.” Then she started whistling. Hmph. I tossed the large green bowl aside. “No!” Packrat dove with her hooves outstretched. The bowl bounced off her hooves and clattered on the ground. I supposed Packrat had a flair for the overdramatic. Otherwise, she would have caught the bowl with her magic. Though since the bowl was plastic, it was not damaged by such a short fall.

Packrat lifted her head. “Okay, Savage. Confession time. I may or may not—” She paused at my condescending stare. “May have an ever so teensy.” She coughed. “Um, marginal?” She sighed. “I like stuff. I really like collecting stuff. And I’m out of room for my stuff. So, can you take some? Pls?”

First off, the word was “please.” Her awful verbiage almost made me reject her on the spot. It was also not acceptable for her to access my bag without permission. Though, she was my companion. I needed to keep her happy until I could save Carbine. Even then, Boulder Springs could be a sturdy community. Perhaps he and I could live there after I rescued him. Losing bag space was a minimal inconvenience for the benefit. Besides, there was no denying those puppy-eyes.

I put the bowl in my bag.

Her face lit up like a balefire bomb. “Yes! Yes!” She started pronking around me in a circle whilst repeating “Yes!”

I pushed her in the side and added a glare which asked, “Are you quite through?”

She stopped and coughed. “He he he…-we cool?” She outstretched her hoof. I returned the gesture. Then I pointed to my ear, and then my bag. “Ask you before I put stuff in your bag from now on?” I nodded, and so did she. “Will do.” She paused and removed all the items she had taken from Baker’s Cove. “Starting right now.”

I sighed internally, but I offered her my bag. I also presented her with the hellhound fur. The balefire bomb went off in her eyes again. I put a hoof on her shoulder to stop her from prancing around me. She chuckled and put the fur in her bags. “I’ll have Weaves fix this up for me. Thanks, Savage.” She swiveled towards the Party Room with her hoof pointing forward. “Now, onwards.”

Packrat marched towards the Party Room, and I followed. When I opened the door, I noticed two things. First, was the net full of pony heads dangling close to the doorway. Second was the telltale beeping. I wrapped a hoof around Packrat’s neck and pulled her back. The guttural sound she made was suppressed by the mines exploding.

I was knocked onto my back, and I slid backwards. Chunks of flesh dappled my body. Surprise, surprise. What did surprise me, was seeing Packrat splayed over me. She glanced at me with half-open eyes, and she flipped her mane. Given how short her mane was, it was not very impressive. “Well. Since we’re already here—” I flicked her forehead with my hoof. “Ow. Come on. I didn’t even finish my sentence. It wasn’t even going to be an offer. Just a joke.” She moved her head and mumbled. “Mostly.”

I pushed her off of me. Soft enough to not be aggressive but hard enough for her to know I heard her. Packrat rolled onto her hooves in one fluid motion. Once on her hooves, she galloped towards the Party Room. The essence of other ponies sloshed off her body as she ran. Hopefully there would not be another trap.

Once I entered the room I did discover another trap: the smell. It was exponentially worse than Baker’s Cove. Pony entrails were displayed like streamers. They had even been colored as such. In the center of the room was a large smiley face painted in blood. The face had been decorated with eyebrows and teeth. The eyebrows were made from the severed wings of pegasi; the teeth were unicorn horns.
I ran out of the room so I could breathe. Packrat took a solemn breath, as she produced a gas mask from her bag. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

She was. While I appreciated the fresh, or at least fresher air around me, Packrat was checking every nook and cranny of the Party Room. She returned levitating two packs of actual streamers, four cans of spray paint, three green-banded grenades, and a carbine rifle. I put the grenades on my necklace. I put the streamers and paint in my bag. I refused to take the rifle.

Packrat shrugged and stowed it in her bags. “Okay. Upstairs we go. I want to find that sexy mare in pink.” I doubted she was still “sexy” after Packrat blew off half her face. Packrat bounded up the stairs. “There’s a blood trail. She must have gone this way.” She ran off, out of my line of sight. Even if I could not see her, I could hear her just fine. “Savage, do you know how to hack a terminal? ‘Cause I don’t.”

I did not either. I reached the stop of the stairs, and I watched as Packrat paced in a circle. She was muttering something to herself that I did not bother paying attention to. What I paid attention to was the door. A large, metallic, sliding door blocked our path. Something was written on the door. I assumed it had once been a logical word. Now it only read: anagm. Attached to the wall beside the door was the terminal. I assumed it had an electric lock.

I approached the terminal and tapped my hoof on the keyboard. The screen lit up. A series of letters and symbols filled the computer screen. Some of the letters formed recognizable words, while others were just strings of gibberish. The top part of the screen was asking me for a password. I assumed the password was somewhere on the screen. Finding the password would take more time than I wanted to spend. At least I could tell I was making progress when I was skinning the hellhound. A terminal was a complete wildcard. I quickly typed in two possible passwords just in case they were correct. Funnn. Guest. Neither worked.

Fortunately, I had another idea. I kicked the door twice to get Packrat’s attention. Once she was looking at me, I pointed towards the staircase. She raised an eyebrow, but she obeyed my silent command. Once Packrat was free of the blast zone, I grabbed the pin of the blue-banded grenade. I pulled the pin, and it fell to the floor. I ran away from the door as quickly as I could. These types of grenades did not seem to affect ponies, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Blue electricity exploded from the apple. The sparks covered the door and terminal. The electricity hummed, but then it grew eerily quiet. A few sparks sporadically sparked across the terminal and the door. Other than that, the light show was over. I approached the door and attempted to slide it open with my hooves. It was almost easier done than said—thought. The door slid open to reveal a musty office. The smell in here was bad, but it was not as abominable as Baker’s Cove or the Party Room. I much preferred a musty smell to one of fresh blood.
Packrat tapped me on the shoulder. “Good goin’, Savage!” She gazed down at the device on her leg. There was a lone blue dot, which I assumed represented me. “Coast is clear, but there could still be traps. Cover me in case I blow up.”

I doubted there would be anything to cover if she blew up, but I understood what she meant. I followed her inside, surveying the room with each step. There was not much to the Anagm room. There were four large filing cabinets against the side wall. In the middle of the room was a weathered wooden desk, which was flanked by two dead trees. Twin skeletons hung above the desk like a chandelier. It was one of the more tasteful choices in décor I had seen today. I really was not in the Crystal Wasteland anymore.

“Ooh, a baseball.”

Hmm? I turned my head. Packrat was rummaging through one of the filing cabinets. She was stuffing her saddlebags with an assortment of useless junk. Soon, she would likely be stuffing said junk into my bags as well. I left her to her looting. I approached the desk. There was an assortment of files. Multiple bank statements, law suits, and a letter. I picked up the letter and started reading.

“Sugs. Sorry I missed your birthday. I had a meeting with the bank about the foreclosure. They said they’ll give us four more weeks. Hopefully the war will be over by then, and ponies will actually have time for fun….-I’m so sorry I missed you. I won’t let anything keep you from me again. I promise. –Party.”

I raised my head towards the skeletal chandelier. I wondered if Party had managed to keep his promise after all.

“Woah, cool!”

I jumped so high I thought I was going to hit the skeletons. Packrat had appeared beside me, and she was going through the desk drawers. In her hooves were a pair of binoculars made from balloons. She had them pressed against her eyes, as she surveyed the room. “Holy shit, Savage. These things actually work.” She removed the binoculars and started towards my bag. Then she paused, chuckled, and gave me a wry smile. “Um, do you mind?”

I tapped my bag twice.

“Thank you!” She put the binoculars, a baseball, two dozen screws, and a plastic fork in my bag. “Now. Let’s see what else we can—ooh.” She licked her lips and started rubbing her hooves together. “Ohohoho. Come to Packrat.”

Let me guess. She found a naughty magazine. Hopefully it would keep her leers off me for a while. Packrat reached her mouth into the drawer. When her head resurfaced there was a cigar dangling out of the corner of her mouth. She grinned at me and started chewing on the cigar. “I love me a good chew.”

I supposed it was healthier than the alternative. I looked away from Packrat and observed the rest of the room. There had been no sign of the mare on Packrat’s device, but I saw no sign of her in the room either. Which was strange, since there were no doors or windows. There had to have been a secret passageway somewhere in here. I peeked under the desk. Perhaps I would find a button that would reveal a hidden passageway. Unfortunately, there was no button. I glanced back at the terminal, which was still covered with sparks. I hoped there was a way to access the passageway without use of the terminal.

Then again, there was a bookcase at the back of the room. Would they really be so obvious? I approached the bookcase. Hmm. There were a number of business manuals, cook books, books about balloon animals an—what do we have here? Daring Do and the Alicorn’s Shadow. One of these things was not like the others. I pulled the book from the shelf. Creak. The bookcase slid open to reveal a long dark tunnel. This was surprisingly easy so far. Thus, it was only a matter of time before something bad happened.

“Woah cool.” Packrat cupped her front hooves in front of her face. “Hello?” Hello? Hello? She stared laughing at her echo and smiled at me. “You should try this, Savage. It’s really fun.” I pointed to the scar across my throat. Packrat winced. “Oh, right, sorry.” She turned away and pressed a button on her device. A pale green light burst forth and illuminated part of the tunnel. “So, um, shall we go?”

I tossed the book aside with a nod. Packrat ignored my nod and dove for the book. The book landed safely in-between her front hooves, and she clutched it tightly to her chest. “Mine!” She sprang to her hooves and cantered down the tunnel with her nose deep in the book. For some reason, she opened to the middle of the book instead of page one. It seemed she preferred to start in medias res.

I followed behind her. Her miniature lamp was helpful, but it was still too dark to see very far. I put on my night vision goggles for extra visibility. My battle saddle was loaded, and I gripped the hellhound tooth in my mouth. I was not looking for a fight; I hoped to be ready for one.

***

Packrat and I walked in silence. She was too busy reading to engage me in conversation. Though every now and then she would stop to—
“Thank you. Sweet Celestia. I mean, sweet fuckin’ Celestia. It’s about time somepony put Derring in her place. She’s always such a bitch. Thank Celestia for Mareton.”

—That. From what I gathered, Packrat was not a fan of Daring Do’s older sister, but would, and I quote, ‘Still give her a night to remember if I could.’ At least she was enjoying herself.

I, on the other hoof, was growing increasingly more bored by the second. I had to watch out for potential threats while Packrat was preoccupied with Ms. Do. However, the tunnel was about as threatening as a convent of Cadanite nuns. Actually, that metaphor was not quite apt. Some Cadanite nuns were known to invoke corporal punishment on those less pious than them. Which made them slightly more dangerous than the tunnel.

Though it seemed I thought too soon.

I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. I removed my night vision goggles and allowed my eyes to adjust. Once they had done so, I spotted a small herd of ponies at the end of the tunnel. From what I could tell, the ponies all shared two traits. They were all earth ponies; they were all stallions. One member of the group stood out from the others. While the others stood outside, this pony was leaning against the wall at the edge of the tunnel. I presumed he was the stallion in charge.

His coat was red and in terrible condition. There were chunks of flesh missing, plenty of scars, and the remaining portions of intact flesh were ungroomed. I doubted this pony knew the meaning of the word “shower.” His mane was almost nonexistent. A few black hairs sprouted from his head, but he was mostly shaven. He had been balancing a knife horizontally on one of his front hooves. When he saw us approach, he slapped the knife’s handle. The knife sprang into the air, and he caught the blade in his mouth. He then proceeded to use the knife as a toothpick.

Cadance not above, this stallion was the Equestrian Wasteland equivalent of Carbine. I wished I could go back to being bored. It was much better than feeling terrified.

“Well, well, boys. Look what we have here.” The Carbine-raider slid off the wall and stepped in front of the herd. “After we found that luscious unicorn hussy with the fucked up face, we just knew the ponies who fucked her up would come runnin’! And, now, here they are.” The stallion stepped forward with one hoof and bowed overdramatically. “Sorry if ya’ll wanted to fuck her first. But I just couldn’t resist a little magic.”

“Rot in hell, Lurker. It’s not like you could fuck much of anything with that tiny prick of yours.”

The group of stallions “Ooohed.” They parted to reveal a mare bound by rope. Her pink dress had been ripped apart, and she was bleeding from her hindquarters. None of her pain showed in her eyes. They were as fierce as when I saw her atop the staircase. Despite missing a chunk of her face, I still found her to be quite beautiful. I supposed true beauty truly was never tarnished.

Lurker’s eyes twitched. He spat his knife onto his hoof, and he ran his tongue across his lips. “Shit, nah. Did that bitch actually just talk to me like that? He. He he ha. He he ha ha ha ho!” Lurker spun and faced the mare in pink. He jumped towards her and landed in front of her. He pressed his face against hers, while he brandished his knife in his hoof. “Well, Lysandra. If I can’t do much with my. How did you say? ‘Tiny prick?’ Then what do you call those moans you were making just a few minutes ago?”

She raised her head and glared into his eyes. “Pity.”

“Ho ho ho ho. Pity, she says. Pity she fucking says!” Lurker slipped his knife back into his mouth and started chewing on it. Blood trickled out of his mouth, but he did not seem to notice. He continued to stare at Lysandra and chewed on his knife.

“Yes, Lurker. Pity.”

“Ha, ha!” Lurker raised his head and his front hooves. “HO!” He lurched forward and punched Lysandra in the face. More specifically, the part of her face that was missing. She let out a shrill scream, while Lurker started laughing again. “Yeah, that’s what I want to hear. Pity, bitch! That’s what fuckin’ pity sounds like.”

I was not how sure if that sentence made any sense. Then again, saying things without thinking was something Carbine would have done. Almost as if he knew I was thinking about him, Lurker turned towards Packrat and I. He spat his knife onto his hoof, and he pointed it at us. “Sorry about that, friends. I just. Really. Fucking. Hate. Unicorns.

“Especially this bitch right here. You know, I loved her once. And then this bitch.” He rammed his hoof into her ponytail and yanked on it. “This bitch right here. She told me I wasn’t good enough for her. Then she kicked me out of her nasty as shit castle to fend for myself. Well, guess what, friends? Lurker came back. Lurker always comes back. And once I’m done with Lysasndumbitch, I’m gonna celebrate with this glittery faggot, and his friend. Now, if you’ll excu—”

“Do you remember me?” Packrat had stowed the book into her bag. The glint I had seen in her eyes before had returned. Though I could not describe the look as hungry. Hell-bent was a better adjective. She took a few steps forward. “We’ve met before, Lurker. Do you remember me?”

Lurker licked his lips again. “He. He he ha. Ya know, what? I just might.” He breathed onto his hoof and ran his hoof across the top of his head. “Boys, watch over the bitch. I’ve got another unicorn to fuck.”

“And if I say no?”

Lurker ripped his knife out of his mouth. Blood dripped from his mouth like a leaky faucet. Drip. Drip. Drip. “Then I’ll give you more holes to fuck.” He crouched on his haunches and sprang towards Packrat.

Her response was to smile. I could not think of an adequate way to describe her smile. It was not a legitimate smile like the one I had seen on the filly in Hospitality. It was not wry or sad. It was closer to one of Carbine’s maniacal grins. This was not quite a grin though. There was nothing smug or humorous about the look on Packrat’s face. This was the smile of a pony who was truly happy for a malevolent reason. “Good. That’s exactly what I needed you to say.”

I had never taken Dash or Rainboom. I remembered the effects being described to me as the perception of time slowing down. I was experiencing that sensation now. Lurker was still moving, but his body crept forward rather than bounding. His stallions were barking encouragement, but their words were becoming heavily slurred. I tried to step forward to aid Packrat, but my own body felt heavy as it moved. Time had slowed down for everypony.

Everypony except for Packrat. She levitated her impressively large revolver from her bags. She pulled the hammer, and the chamber revolved to the next available cartridge. She aimed her weapon at Lurker’s head.

Two things happened at once. The first was time returning to normal. The second was Lurker’s face exploding into a pile of mush. His body turned sideways and slid towards Packrat. As his body slid towards her, Packrat fired two more rounds into his head. The second round struck him in the forehead and created a massive hole. The third struck him in the neck and decapitated him.

The head and body finished sliding just in front of Packrat. She spun her revolver in her telekinetic hold and placed it in her bag. In its place, she produced a grenade. “This is for Dartboard, you fuck.” She shoved the grenade into his mouth and kicked it like a ball. Being a small unicorn, Packrat’s kick did not send the head very far. It was almost as if she was passing it towards me. I bucked Lurker’s head towards the other stallions. Though it was more to avoid being blasted to smithereens than to attack them.

The grenade exploded, and it took Lurker’s head with it. The remains of his head splashed against the walls of the tunnel. If nothing else, at least it gave the tunnel some color. His blood covered both Packrat and I. As disgusting as it was, I preferred being covered in Lurker than joining him. Packrat did not appear to be fazed by her literal bloodbath. Her eyes kept their dangerous glint. She had proven she was not to be trifled with. Still, it was hard to view her seriously when she currently resembled a ponified watermelon.

Packrat glared at the remaining stallions. They quivered as they looked back at her. Some of them held each other. Most of them wet themselves. Packrat pointed to a light blue stallion. “You.”

Light Blue squealed and stepped forward. “Ye…-yes?”

“You’re in charge now. And if I ever hear that you’ve hurt anypony again, I’m holding you personally responsible. Is that clear?”

Light Blue muttered something as his response.

“I said is that fucking clear?!”

“Yes it’s clear, don’t shoot me!”

Packrat breathed deeply. “Good. Now all of you get out of here before I use you all as target practice.”

I had never seen ponies move that quickly. Some of them stumbled, while others bumped into each other. But one way or another, Lurker’s herd of stallions galloped away from Packrat as fast as they could. Once the stallions had left, Packrat approached Lysandra and started working on the ropes. “Are you okay?”

The ropes fell to the ground. Lysandra stood up slowly, and she ran a hoof across her wound. “You shot off half my face.”

Oh, please. I understood her pain. I assumed losing part of one’s face was as scarring, both literally and metaphorically, as having one’s throat slit. I could admit I partook in melodrama from time to time. But I at least understood the extent of my injury. Lysandra was missing part of her face; she was not missing half of it.

Packrat responded with a wry smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was aiming for between your eyes if that makes you feel any better.”
Lysandra’s glare eased up slightly, though only out of confusion. In her defense, I was unsure of how Packrat’s statement would make anypony feel better. Lysandra shook her head and switched her glare between Packrat and me. “I suppose you’re going to finish the job now. Fine.” She turned her head and struck a dignified pose. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

“No.”

The dignified pose decompressed into an unimpressive slouch. “What did you just say?”

Packrat’s face was surprisingly expressionless, as she shrugged. “No. You’re not a threat anymore. So, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Not a threat. Not a threat, you say!” Lysandra tackled Packrat. The two mares tumbled on the ground. They switched positions a few times until Lysandra pinned Packrat to the ground. “I am Lysandra Margaux. The Pearl of Vanhoover.”

Packrat shook her head and shrugged again. “Not ringing a bell.”

Lysandra curled her lips and gasped. She turned her head towards me. “The Deadly Orchid?”

I made no response.

She did not bother gasping. She simply stepped off Packrat. The ferocity in her eyes was gone. They contained an expression of pure confusion. “I don’t understand. How can you ponies not know of me? I’m practically a queen around here.”

“Um, well, welcome to being a peasant.”

There was the ferocity I was used to. Lysandra scoffed. “I am no peasant. I refuse to associate with your kind.” Her horn glowed, and she whipped out an ivory revolver from her dress. She pressed the barrel against Packrat’s head and pulled back the hammer. “This is for my face, you low-class mongrel.”

I fired a shot from Memento. Queen or not, I was not going to let her do as she pleased to my friend. Ultimately, my aim was off. My bullet did not tear through Lysandra’s head. Rather….

Her only movement came from her hoof. Her hoof quivered as she raised it to the back of her head. She rummaged her hoof around in the empty air. The empty air where her mane used to be. “My hair. You shot off my hair.” She turned away from Packrat and gazed at the remains of her scarlet ponytail on the ground. “You killed my subjects. My pet. You destroyed my face. And now, my pride and joy.” She lifted her head and stared at me. The storm brewing in her eyes did not match the tranquil tone of her voice. And I had thought an Equestrian Wasteland version of Carbine was terrifying. Her revolver pointed at me. “I’ll see you in hell, handsome.”

She pulled the trigger before I could. Then she pulled it again. And again. And again. Click. Click, click, click. “No, no!” She continued to fire the gun to no avail.

“Well, yeah. I said you weren’t a threat remember?” Packrat rolled onto her hooves and started stretching. “If that gun was loaded, you wouldn’t have asked if we were going to kill you. You would have shot me instantly. You knew you couldn’t kill us, so you wanted to threaten us so we’d kill you.” Packrat walked in front of Lysandra and kneeled. “I know you really hate us. But, a Queen needs an escort.”

Lysandra’s face heavily soured. “I said I didn’t want to associate myself with low life peasants.”

Packrat waved her hoof. “Pfft. Just think of us as knights or something.”

“Knights.” The word sounded like a curse the way Lysandra said it. “My knights.” That time it sounded like less of a curse, although she still sounded clearly unhappy about the situation.

That made two of us. I would have rather left her on her own. After all, she tried to kill us once with her hellhound. Her gun may not have been loaded, but she still shot at me. I was not a fan of her in the slightest. She may have been in shambles, but she was a raider. No, more than that. She fancied herself as a queen. Her castle had been decorated with blood and bodies. With children. Packrat seemed to have forgotten that, but I had not. I lined the scope of Savage with Lysandra’s head. I would not miss this time. We had already overthrown the queen. We could always go one step further.

“Why are you willing to be my knight?”

“I already told you; you’re not a threat. I don’t have to hurt you. I don’t hurt ponies I don’t have to. And, since you don’t seem to have anywhere to go, I figure you could come home with Savage and me. Boulder Springs is always looking for new faces.”

“Boulder Springs?” Lysandra ran her eyes up and down Packrat. “That den of ruffians? No wonder you’re such a vial thing.”

Packrat grinned and rubbed a hoof through her dirty mane. “It’s part of my charm.”

Lysandra glanced at me. “You seem to have gotten over your ghoul friend quite quickly. Does your allegiance normally change so quickly?”

I did not bother replying. I had stopped looking into Savage’s scope after Packrat had finished speaking. I don’t hurt ponies I don’t have to. For a pony who used to a pacifist, I was becoming rather trigger-happy. Kill to protect my family and me. Slay monsters. But, do not rush into killing a monster. Monsters exist to be slain, but a monster could be reformed.

I already knew that first hoof now that I thought about it. If I had met Carbine with my slayer mentality, I would have killed him on the spot. Despite his violent tendencies, Carbine had shown a desire to want to change. He was capable of loving other ponies. If Packrat wanted to save Lysandra, then we would. I still decided I did not like her, and I would rather not interact with her if I could avoid it. But I could always change my mind later and come to see her as a friend.

Then I saw her smirking at me and decided I wanted to be adamant in my dislike. “Maybe you have worth as a knight after all.”

“Sooooooo, is that a yes?”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes. The anger seemed to be absent from her gaze, but she was wary. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

Packrat sighed. “Um, okay, fine. If I’m being honest—do I have to be honest?” Lysandra and I both nodded. Packrat looked away and muttered something to herself.

“What was that?” Lysandra demanded.

“I said you’re really hot, an—”

Lysandra slapped Packrat across the face. Ouch. That slap was loud. I had not been touched, yet my own cheek was stinging. I wondered if Lysandra qualified as a threat now.

Packrat rubbed her cheek. “Well, it’s true. And Savage doesn’t want to fuck me, so I thought maybe I could try to work on you.”

Lysandra glanced at me again; her expression was sultry. The effect was weakened since she was missing part of her face, but she was still appeared…-appetizing. Oh, no. That was a disgusting choice of words. Though I knew Lyra would have appreciated it. She no doubt would have used it if she had thought of it. Lysandra sauntered towards me, batting her eyes. “Tell me...-Savage.” She hesitated before saying my new name. Not unlike how I had not been a fan of the name when I first heard it. “Do you agree with your friend? Do you want to fuck me?”

Her voice was as smooth and sticky as honey. I had felt her hot breath on my ear when she said the word “fuck.” I knew I wanted her, but I would not have her. I would not have another mare so soon after Lyra’s death. I doubted I would ever have another. Especially a raider queen. I turned my head away from her.

Unfortunately, Lysandra was not deterred. “Oh, don’t be like that.” She slipped her hoof under my chin and turned my head towards her. She held my face in her hoof and said nothing. She did not have to. Her eyes were so inviting. Her breath was so warm. I wanted to look away, but I found it impossible to do so. The smirk reappeared on her face. That was a major turnoff. I decided to turn away from her right then and there. I would have too. If she had not kissed me first.

Her hot breath and cool tongue mixed into a comfortable feeling. A very comfortable feeling. I closed my eyes and kissed her back. I wrapped my front hooves around her neck and kept her face close to mine. She was phenomenal. If her lips were this good, how much more would I love her flank? I wanted it. I needed it. I slipped my hooves down her back an—

—that was when she pulled away. She placed her front hooves onto mine and gently removed them from their back. She slowly ran her tongue across her lips. “I’ll take that as a yes. I think I can see why they call you Savage.”

Her tone was far more condescending than I liked. Not that it mattered. Lysandra was a monster. I did not want to experience the body of a monstrous pony any more than I wanted the body of a hellhound. She was a good kisser; I could give her that. I was caught in the moment. The moment was now past, and I lost all of my desire for the Orchid of Vanhoover. Or whatever foolish names she called herself.

She leaned forward and whispered into my ear with her hot breath. “I know you can’t speak. But when you think of me, I’d like for you to call me Lysa. Lysandra Margaux is much too formal. I’d prefer our relationship to be more…-personal.” She purred the final word into my ear, and then she kissed my cheek. Oh. She truly was a monster.

Lysa sashayed away from me towards Packrat. Packrat’s face was almost completely red, and her jaw had drooped. I also noticed she was heavily drooling. Hmph. Somepony needed a swat. The smirk was prominent on Lysa’s face. I had a sinking suspicion I would be seeing that expression more often than not. She reached her hoof under Packrat’s chin, and she lifted it till Packrat’s mouth closed. “Come, knights. Aren’t you going to escort your Queen?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am,” Packrat said with a mouthful of drool. It was disgusting.

Packrat trotted beside Lysa, whilst I brought up the rear. Lysa shook her head. “Come now, Savage. No need to be so formal. Come walk beside me.”

I would rather keep my distance. I did not like how I felt when I was around her. She was like a syringe of Med-X. Wonderful, but carried a risk of addiction. I did not move to her side. Once Lysa realized I was staying put, she laughed to herself. “Two unicorns and a crystal pony walk out into the Wasteland. Sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn’t it?”

It did. If I had learned anything in my brief stay in the Equestrian Wasteland, the Wasteland preferred its punchlines cruel.

Footnote: Level Up!

Perk Added: Boom Shakalaka. Who has time for fancy mathematics when you can just blow stuff up?! Not you, that’s for sure. Explosives increased to 50.

Author's Note

Author's Notes:

Hey, everypony! As always, thanks to Kkat for writing the original stories, to other writers for contributing to this universe, and to my readers.

In other news, Happy Halloween! This is one of my favorite holidays, so I hope you all have an awesome night. In other other news, season six is officially over. It's been a rollarcoaster for me. I watched it in two continents, a few of them out of order, and wasn't overly impressed with the premiere or the last couple minutes of the finale. It also had a couple episodes I really didn't care for. But it also had some of my favorite episodes in the series. Kind of weird how that all worked out. I hope you all enjoyed it for the most part. Here's to season 7!

And in other news for the third time, because three is a magic number, I finally released my second novel. While the first book is not pony related at all, the second one has a rew references and a couple recurring characters based on AJ and Rarity. Here's a link to it if you're interested and to the first one as well.
https://www.amazon.com/Moonpekian-Summer-Sw1tchbl4de-ebook/dp/B01MF5G11D
https://www.amazon.com/Moonpekian-Spring-J-N-Whitley/dp/1907732047

Later!

2.4: Brave New Settlement

2.4 Brave New Settlement
“There was a thing called the soul and a thing called immortality.”

“Welcome to Boulder Springs.” Packrat faced us and gestured to a sign behind her. The letter “B” on the sign fell off as soon as she pointed to it. Without turning around, she chuckled and shrugged. “It does that.”

Well. I supposed that was one reason to temper my expectations. Another reason was what I saw in the center of the town. There was a large boulder sitting inside a small hot spring. Boulder Springs. I wondered if the pony who named this town was the same pony who named the Cemetery. It explained the lack of creativity.

The parts of the town around the eponymous springs were more interesting to observe. For starters, there was the worn-down clock tower. Interestingly enough, the clock itself looked almost pristine. The face was well polished; the second hand was working perfectly fine. Comparatively, the building surrounding the clock was worn down. At the very least it could have used a dusting.

There were two buildings situated side by side next to the clock tower. One was labeled “Food,” and I assumed it was a canteen. The other was called “Wk ut.” What? The door opened and two muscular stallions trotted outside. Their coats glistened with sweat, and the duo drank from water bottles as they walked. Ah. It was a gym. The words had likely spelled “Work Out” at some point.

On the other side of the clock tower was another building that had seen better days. The roof in particular was missing more than a few shingles. All of the windows had bars on them. That was my first indicator that the building was a prison. My second was the guard. A zebra sat on the steps of the building. The zebra’s mane was smooth and was clinging closely to his neck. Part of his left front hoof was missing, and his right back hoof was mangled. The left half of his face had been badly burned. Perhaps it was the light, but his left eye appeared misty and sightless.

I was not sure what to make of the zebra. On one hoof, I doubted he would make an effective guard. If he was blind in one eye and had a mangled hoof, I suspected he would be easy to sneak past and outrun. However, he was also carrying a halberd. The size of his weapon was magnificent. It did not matter if the zebra was slow on his hooves if he could cut an enemy down from a distance.

The door to the prison opened. The zebra leapt to his hooves and swung the halberd. It stopped just inches away from the neck of a chartreuse pegasus. The pegasus was wearing a modest brown robe, and he carried a book in his mouth. A robe and a book? Was he a priest? He touched one of his hooves to the halberd and gently lowered it to the ground. I noticed he wore the same device as Packrat on his leg.

“A zebra and a Stable pony. This town does seem to attract outsiders,” Lysandra murmured.

Packrat nodded. “Yeah. Azrael, that’s the zebra. He’s been here since forever. I don’t really know his story, but I’ve heard he’s more loyal to Mom than anypony else in town. And that pony with him is Spectrum. He’s from Stable Seven.”

“Pray tell, Packrat. What experiment was the basis for Stable Seven?”

Packrat’s brow furrowed slightly. “Um, I don’t really know that much about it. It was pegasi only. Other than that, Spectrum doesn’t say much about his time there.”

I pointed to the book in his mouth with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, he’s a Confessor.”

“Confessor?” Lysandra echoed.

Packrat nodded. “Uh-huh.” A short period of silence followed her unhelpful statement. Then her eyes grew wide. “Ohhhh! You need me to explain. Got it. Confessors talk to other ponies. They get them to confess the bad things they’ve done in their life and offer them forgiveness.”

So, he was a priest. I rolled my eyes. There was no need for priests if there were no goddesses to follow.

“I see you’re not too keen on faith, friend.” Spectrum had moved swiftly and silently. The book was cradled in his hoof, which allowed him to speak with us. “May I ask why?”

I pointed to the scar across my neck.

“You blame a higher being for your pain. I can understand that. But may I ju—”

“Actually,” Lysandra interrupted. “I believe he’s just saying he can’t fully answer your question because he’s mute. Right, Savage?”

I nodded.

“Ah.” Spectrum shook his head with a smile. “I apologize for misunderstanding you.” He offered a hoof. “Spectrum. I’m the resident Confessor of Boulder Springs.”

Lysandra extended her hoof. “Lysandra Margaux.”

Spectrum took a step back. “The Pearl of Vanhoover?”

“Well, well.” She stood up straighter and flipped her mane. Given how short it now was, the effect was severely diminished. “I’m glad to know somepony is cultured enough to have heard of me.”

“Cultured may not be the best word, Miss Margaux.” Spectrum snatched his book with his wing. He started flipping through it. As he did so, I noticed the words were all written in an indecipherable scrawl. He was not carrying a book of teachings; he carried a book of sins. He stopped at an empty page roughly a third of the way through his book. He retrieved a pen from within his robe. “Tell me, Miss Margaux. Do you have any sins you wish to confess?”

Lysandra chuckled. “Why would I do that? I prefer to keep my secrets to myself. Loose lips have been known to sink ships.”

Spectrum frowned. “That may be true, Miss Margaux. But forgiveness can only come to those who confess their sins.”

Lysandra scoffed. The warmth in her smile did not quite reach the frost in her eyes. “I need no forgiveness, Confessor. I’ve learned to keep my conscience quiet.”

Spectrum faced me with a resigned sigh. “Do you have any sins you would like to confess?”

I was uncomfortable with the notion, but I was in full agreement with Lysandra. I needed no forgiveness. I no longer answered to the Goddess; I answered to myself. If I could justify an action under my two rules, then I felt no guilt. Thus, I needed no forgiveness.

I shook my head.

Spectrum nodded, and he packed away his book and pen. “I cannot say I agree with your decisions, but I will respect them. Please know that my door is always open if you wish t—”

“Wait!” Packrat’s hoof shot into the air. “I have some things to confess.”

Spectrum retrieved his book and pen. He flipped through the book until he reached a slew of pages with green ink. “Yes?”

Packrat sighed. “Okay. I killed a pony because my PipBuck said to. Then I met Savage and got really lusty. Then I—”

“Don’t forget you shot me in the face,” Lysandra said bitterly.

“Shot Lysa in the face. I did a lot of looting, which is bad. And I know it’s bad. But I love it sooooooo much.” Her sigh was the sound of pure bliss. “Mhmmm. So many caps….”

Goddess not above, she was drooling. I thumped the back of her head with my hoof. She snapped out of her trance, and she used one of her forelegs to wipe the drool from her mouth. It was the same hoof with the device attached to it. I assumed that was the “PipBuck” she had referred to.

She chuckled awkwardly and flashed me a grin. “Thanks for that.” She titled her head back. “Hmmm. What else did I do?”

“You lusted after me.”

“Shit yeah I did. And if you need a place to stay tonight I’d be more than happy to—”
Lysandra slapped Packrat, again. Packrat rubbed her cheek and grumbled something. It sounded something to the effect of “stupid sexy pearl pony.”

Spectrum looked up after he finished writing in his book. “Is that all, Packrat?”

She nodded. “Yes. There’s nothing else I feel guilt for.”

That was an interesting choice of words. She was refusing to admit her murder of the raider. She seemed to be acknowledging that it was a sin, but it was not one she regretted. I wondered if that was how Orchestra viewed her murder of Lyra.

The look in Spectrum’s rose eyes told me he picked up on Packrat’s sentiment. But he did not comment further. He stood on his hooves and packed away his pen and book. In their stead, he retrieved a small vial of a pale gold liquid. Spectrum opened the vial and poured the liquid over Packrat’s head. From the smell, I assumed it was some kind of cooking oil. “Your sins have been acknowledged and forgiven.” He wrapped a hoof around the back of her neck and pulled her close. Spectrum kissed the top of Packrat’s head. “Go forth and walk in the truth.”

Whatever that meant. Truth could mean different things to different ponies. Orchestra and I held contradictory truths about similar topics. She believed there was a Goddess; I knew there was no such thing. She believed non-crystal ponies were heathens to be purged; I viewed them as people equal to us. She knew our parents as ponies of color and personality; I only saw them as vague shadows. Packrat’s truth was that looting was fun, enemy ponies needed to die, and avenging her fallen friend was nothing to lose sleep over. Telling her to walk in the truth, while acknowledging her truth was sinful, seemed contradictory to me.

“Thank you.” Packrat did not seem to share my views. She just smiled at the Confessor. “Is Mom in her office?”

Spectrum nodded. “Yes. I believe Shadow is with her currently.” He grimaced and cast his eyes towards the prison. “She recently returned from a rather unscrupulous assignment.”

Packrat winced. “Oh. Did she do that thing with the—” Spectrum nodded. “Right in the—” Spectrum nodded again. Packrat shuddered. “I love that mare, but she scares me sometimes.”

“Yes.” Spectrum tapped his hoof against his breast. I assumed that was where he had stored his book. “Never before have I met a pony so…-jovial about her transgressions.”

“Sounds like my kind of pony,” Lysandra whispered to me.

Jovial? I wondered what Spectrum and Lysandra would have thought of Carbine.

“Okay, we’ll be seeing you, Spectrum.” Packrat waved to the Confessor and took off running.

Lysandra sighed. “I suppose we should follow her.” She cantered after Packrat.

I followed in her hoofsteps, but I paused. For some reason, I turned back towards Spectrum. He was not looking in our direction. Rather, he was focused on a silver locket around his neck. Spectrum’s eyes sparkled with sadness. It was the look I imagined was on my face whenever I reminisced about Lyra. He touched the locket to his lips and kissed the cold silver. “Forgive me, Borealis.”

Hmmm. It seemed the Confessor had his own sins to confess. I was mildly curious to discover the secret behind Stable Seven. Just as I was mildly curious to discover just what exactly a Stable was.

“Coming, darling?”

I bristled at Lysandra’s choice of words. I was not her darling. There was malevolence in her chuckle as I strode past her. She trotted beside me. “Just think of the cornucopia of sins we could create together, Savage. I won’t confess them if you won’t.”

My coat continued to bristle. Though, I was loathe to admit it, it was more out of anticipation than irritation. There was just something about Lysandra’s tone….

Packrat led us to a small house. The house was painted the drabbest shade of grey imaginable. The décor surrounding the house was not much to look at either. There were rocks, and every now and then there was a boulder. Maybe the inside would be more creative. Perhaps we would find stones inside.

The door opened, and a pony stepped out. At least, I assumed it was a pony. Whoever stood before me was covered from head to hooves in skin-tight barding. The barding was primarily purple with patches of black on the chest, head, and hooves. The black and purple were separated by yellow zigzags made to resemble lightning bolts. On the pony’s flank was what appeared to be a pony skull with a wing protruding from behind. The possible pony was also wearing a purple and gold mask over its eyes, while the mouth was obscured as well. The only visible body part was the nose.

There were no mane or tail that I could see. Nor could I find wings or a horn. I could not speak for the wings or horn, but I wondered if the lack of mane and tail was a side-effect of being a ghoul. I could tell this was a ghoul due to its nose having the same texture as Reverend Bones’.

“Shadow!”

The masked creature, which I was going to assume was a pony until further evidence proved otherwise, emitted a sound I could not describe. I assumed it was a chuckle, but it was hard to discern due to how gravelly the sound was. The muffling of the mask did not help either. “Hey, Squirt.”

Shadow raised a hoof. Packrat raised her own hoof and jumped towards Shadow. But Shadow pulled her hoof back at the last moment and shook her head. “Too slow, Squirt.”

Packrat lowered her head and grumbled. “Every time.”

Something resembling a laugh rumbled in Shadow’s throat. She patted Packrat’s head and ruffled her mane. “Maybe next time, Squirt.” She turned her head. Since her eyes were obscured, I could only assume that she was looking at Lysandra and me. “Who’re these two? Prisoners or fuck buddies?”

“Neither, actually.” Lysandra stepped forward and offered a hoof. “Lysandra Margaux.”

“Shadowbolt number 007. Everypony calls me Shadow.” She titled her head downwards, and I could hear the disdain creeping into her voice. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not touch hooves with a raider.”

“Ahh. My reputation continues to precede me.” Lysandra titled her head backwards and brushed the remnants of her mane with her hoof.

“Sure. If you like being labeled as a murderous tart.”

Lysandra fluttered her eyes and flashed Shadow a sensual smile. “We all have our talents.”

“And some of us get to keep our faces.”

Lysandra paused. All semblances of friendliness melted from her expression. Her blue eyes glistened as she glared at Shadow. “And some of us have the gall to actually show our faces.”

There was a long pause. Lysandra was smirking, while Shadow did not move. I did not know her, and her lack of a response made me very uncomfortable. Packrat, who had been standing in-between the two mares, noticeably took a couple steps back.

“Oh, that’s right. You can’t see my face. My bad.” Shadow took a step forward and outstretched her hoof. “Respect, Tart. That was actually funny.”

Pure disdain took ahold of Lysandra’s face, but she touched hooves anyways.

Shadow turned her head towards me. “What’s your role, Sparkles? Are you the cherry on top of the tart?”

“Nope.” Packrat walked towards me and wrapped a hoof around one of my legs. “Savage is a hellhound slayer.”

I noticed Lysandra flinch at that. I simply shrugged my shoulders.

“A hellhound slayer. Well, come back and talk after you’ve slain zebras, griffons, and a dragon.”

“I’m assuming you’ve killed all those creatures yourself?” Lysandra ran her eyes up and down Shadow. “You’re quite the accomplished warrior, aren’t you?”

Shadow snickered. “Watch out, Tart. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I know.” Lysandra flipped her mane. “That’s sort of the idea.”

Shadow shook her head. “Sorry, but I’m not really into scissors.”

Scissors? What was she talking about? Packrat was blushing, while Lysandra had a knowing frown on her face. Perhaps it was a mare thing.

Shadow tilted her head back and yawned. “I’ve had a long day, and I need to get up early for tomorrow. Which means I need some booze.” She strutted past us. “Nice to meet you Tart and Sparkles. Later, Squirt!”

Packrat stood at attention and saluted. “Bye, Shadow.”

Shadow chuckled and returned the salute before dashing off.

Packrat watched Shadow leave. She did not move; she did not even lower her hoof. The only easily identifiable signs of life were her eyes following Shadow. That and the drool forming in the corner of her…-I swatted her with my tail.

“Ow.” Packrat rubbed her cheek with a sour expression. Lysandra and I gave her incredulous looks. “What? She looks great in that uniform.”

Lysandra and I both rolled our eyes, as Packrat led us inside. Almost immediately, we reached a fork in the home. There was a wall in front of us with two branching pathways. I could hear sounds coming from the left hallway. I could not make out any words, but it sounded vaguely like a conversation. Conversely, the right hallway was as silent as the rock garden outside.

Packrat pointed towards the right hallway with her hoof. “That way.”

“Are you sure, Packrat? If we’re going to meet your mother shouldn’t we head towards the sound of ponies?”

“Nah.” Packrat shook her head and started walking down the right hallway. “Mom keeps her office away from the rooms. Oh, and Mom’s not actually my mom. I just call her that.”

“Fascinating.” Lysandra’s tone was slightly more condescending than usual.

Packrat did not seem to notice. She continued walking down the hallway. She led us to a closed grey door. Packrat knocked on the door. “Mom?”

There was no response. Undeterred, Packrat shrugged and opened the door. I stepped inside and was overwhelmed by how underwhelmed I was. Mom’s office was, in a word, grey. The walls and furniture shared the same drab color. By furniture, I meant there were a few chairs and a desk. On the desk was a clear glass tank. The tank was filled with an assortment of rocks. The words “Rock Petting Zoo” were scrawled on the walls of the tank.

Lysandra ran a hoof across the desk. Her lips curled into a grimace as she gazed at the coat of dust on her hoof. “I’ll never understand how some ponies are able to live in such filthy conditions.” She blew the dust off her hoof.

It found a new home on Packrat’s nose. “A…-a…-achoo!”

“Gesundheit.”

The three of us turned towards the door. An earth pony was standing in the doorway. Her mottled coat was as grey as the wall of the office. To my surprise, the frock she wore was blue rather than grey. Although the color had faded to the point it was practically grey anyways.

The balefire bomb went off in Packrat’s eyes. “Mom!” She bounded towards the grey ghoul, and she wrapped her hooves around the ghoul’s neck in a hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Mom replied in a monotone.

Lysandra and I exchanged glances. This mare emoted as much as the rocks in her petting zoo. It only now hit me how strange the concept of a rock petting zoo was. I was surrounded by so many strange ponies the bizarre was beginning to seem normal.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Packrat backpedaled until she was in-between Mom and Lysa and I. “Mom, these are my friends. Savage and Lysandra. Guys, this is Mom. Maud Pie.”

Lysandra reached out a hoof. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Pie.”

Maud glanced down at Lysandra’s hoof. She grunted and looked at Packrat. “Have they come to live here?”

“Mm-hmm. They’re my new friends.”

Maud grunted again. “In that case.” She turned to face us. “Welcome to Boulder Springs. Greatest settlement in the Wasteland.” If there was any trace of genuineness in her words, it was not conveyed in her voice. “If you want to live here, you have to work. You can help around town, or you can take jobs. Ten percent of everything you earn goes to the town. Everything else you get to keep. Those are the rules. If you don’t like it, you can leave.” She blinked once. “Any questions?”

Lysandra raised a hoof. “Yes. What kind of work do you do around town?”

Maud blinked again. “I built Boulder Springs with my bare hooves.” She reached a hoof from her frock and produced a small rock. “Boulder helped. It’s why I named the town after him.”

Lysandra and I exchanged glances a second time. Packrat did not partake in our skepticism. She was nodding at everything Maud Pie stated. Maud placed Boulder back into her pocket. She blinked twice and addressed Lysandra and I. “What do you two do?”

Lysandra raised her head proudly. “I am an effective manager of other ponies.” She motioned to me with her tail. “He’s a sniper.”

Maud nodded. “What do you two want?”

Lysandra’s expression turned sour. “We already told you what we want, Miss Pie. To stay in your…-lovely town.”

Maud stared at Lysandra without speaking. A few seconds past. Then a minute. Then five minutes. She blinked her eyes rarely, and she did not speak. Lysandra looked back with clear discomfort. Her lips were curled inwards, and her eyes were narrowed. “Miss Pie?”

Maud slowly walked towards her office window. She gazed out at her town. “Ponies come to Boulder Springs because they want something. And they think we can get it for them. You two are no different. What do you two really want?”

Lysandra sighed. “Very well, Miss Pie, I’ll be honest with you. Packrat and Savage invaded my home, killed my companions and my pet, and damaged my face. When given the chance to finish me off, she instead offered me a chance to travel with her. I have nowhere else to go, and so I chose to follow her. To answer your question, I don’t know what I want besides an opportunity to continue living my life.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Packrat levitated the chunks of the hellhound from her saddlebag. “I finished that job you gave me, Mom.” A guilty expression took ahold of her face. She gave Lysandra a small smile. “Sorry.”

Lysandra said nothing, but I could see from her eyes she did not accept Packrat’s apology in the slightest.

Maud took the pieces of the hellhound and stored them somewhere behind the desk. She raised her head and aimed her eyes at me. “And what do you want?”

Packrat stepped forward. “Savage wants to find his friend. I told him if he did some jobs for Boulder Springs then maybe we could give him a team to find his friend.”

Maud’s eyes shifted towards Packrat. There was no ferocity in her gaze, but I still felt the urge to flinch. “You didn’t have the authority to make that promise, Packrat.”

Packrat lowered her head and rubbed one front hoof against the other one. “Um, whoops,” she muttered.

Maud’s gaze returned to me. “But if you can contribute, I’m willing to see what I can do.” She walked back to her desk and sat down. “The Sisters and their Caravan arrived today and will be staying with me until morning. They’re asking for guards on their journey from here to Neighagra. I already told Shadow she could have the job, but I can put you three on it too.”

Packrat slammed her hoof down on the desk. “Done!”

“Yes, Packrat, thank you so much for conferring with us first,” Lysandra scoffed.

Packrat either ignored Lysandra, or she was too focused to pay anything else any attention. The second option actually seemed more plausible to me. Personally, I did not share Lysandra’s sarcastic sentiments. If accepting this job would aid me with rescuing Carbine, then I would happily take it.

Maud grunted again. “Okay. I’ll see you three in the morning. Feel free to leave.”

Packrat hopped onto the desk and wrapped her hooves around Maud’s neck. “Later, Mom. Love you.”

Maud tapped Packrat twice on the neck. “Love you too.”

Packrat slinked off the desk, waved to Maud, and started trotting away.

“Wait.”

Packrat spun around on her hooves. “Yeah, Mom?”

“I wrote a new poem today. It’s called ‘Fragile.’ Would you like to hear it?”

Yes, I actually would. I missed hearing other ponies expressing themselves in ways that did not involve bullets. I sat down in front of the desk.

Packrat slid into an empty space next to me. She looked at Lysandra with large eyes, and she patted the floor next to her. “Come on, Lysandra. Mom’s poetry is the best.”

“Oh, alright.” Lysandra sat next to me. She looked anything but excited for the poetry reading, but at least she was making an effort.

Maud cleared her throat and started reading:

“Ponies think rocks are strong

and can never bend or break.

But some ponies are wrong

since a fragile crystal can shatter.

“Loose stones roll away,

while sturdy boulders choose to say.

Loose stones can lose their traction,

and sturdy boulders erode by reaction.

“Old stones yearn to fade

and keep their secrets safe.

Young stones are honest,

but they’re likely to shatter or break.

“Hidden stones use camouflage

to choose their moments wisely.

Smaller stones suffer abuse

but can still be quite lively.

What did you think of it?”

Packrat clopped her hooves together with unparalleled enthusiasm. Unparalleled because my clopping was minimal, while Lysandra refused to clop at all. I enjoyed the poem, but I was confused by it. First and foremost, I had yet to understand Maud Pie’s fascination—actually, at this point it was more of an obsession—with rocks. Second, her first stanza did not rhyme. I would not mind that if her entire poem was in free verse, but it was the only stanza which did not adhere to an ABAB rhyme scheme. Her poetry was as bizarre as she. I could see where Packrat got it from.

***

After the poetry reading, Packrat took Lysandra and me to her house.

“I can’t wait for you guys to meet Toothpick. That’s my brother. He’s the greatest pony in the whole world. You’ll see.”

I was not holding my breath. After meeting her “Mom,” I was not too thrilled about the prospect of meeting her “brother.”

Packrat swung open the door, and there he was. A wiry pegasus with a dirty brown mane was sitting on the floor slouched against the wall. He was holding a screwdriver with one of his wings, and he was tinkering with a metal box and some wires. He was not holding the screwdriver in his mouth likely because he was chewing on a toothpick. That explained the moniker.

Packrat hugged him with both hooves and kissed him on the cheek. “Bro! I missed you.”

Toothpick rolled his eyes. “Right about now I miss peace and quiet.” His gaze flicked towards Lysandra and me. “Oh. Great. Just what I need. More distractions.” He ducked under Packrat’s hooves and slithered away from her. “And who are these two sad sacks of shit?”

Lysandra recoiled as if she had been struck. “I beg your pardon, but what the fuck did you just say about me?”

Toothpick fluttered onto the couch. He dropped his box and screwdriver on a coffee table. He lay on his back and let his hooves drape off the sides. “I called you and Glitter over there sad sacks of shit. I mean, just look at you two. You’re missing part of your face. His neck is scarred all to fuck. Not to mention the fact that you’re travelling with my sister. That’s how I know your life is going downhill.”

Lysandra’s glare was cold enough to freeze flame. Conversely, it was fiery enough to melt solid stone. “And what does that make you?”

Toothpick did not look at us as he grinned. “The saddest sack of ‘em all, that’s what.” Snap. “Ah, damnit.” He spat the broken toothpick out of his mouth. He titled his body towards the table and grabbed a tooth pick from a jar. He slipped it inside his mouth and began chewing.

“Tooooothpick.”

“Forget it, Packrat, the answer’s no.”

“Oh, come on!” She threw her hooves up and plopped against a wall. “You didn’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You were going to ask if I would let you keep some of your stuff in my room because you’re almost out of space.”

Packrat pursed her lips and turned her head away. “No.”

“Then you were going to ask me if I would work on Opus for free.”

“But he needs a touch up.” The massive revolver slipped out of Packrat’s bag and levitated towards Toothpick. “Come on, Toothpick. Don’t you want to add a scope?”

“Not for free I don’t.”

Packrat set her gun on the top of the couch. She was quiet for a few moments. I was unsure if she had given up or if she was contemplating her next strategy. Then she opened her mouth. “I killed him.”

“That’s specific.”

“The fuck who killed Dartboard. I killed him.”

Snap. Toothpick’s toothpick broke in two. He sat upward and faced Packrat. He used one of his wings to push the revolver to the side, and he rested his head where the gun once sat. “You better not be pulling my leg so I’ll give you free shit, Pack.”

“I’m not,” she said with a shake of her head.

“I mean it, Packrat. Don’t fuck with me.”

She shook her head a second time.

He turned towards Lysandra and me. “You saw it happen? She killed the ‘Ho!’ guy who chewed on his knife?”

Lysandra took a step forward. “She saved me from hi—”

“I don’t give a fuck about you.” Toothpick spat the pieces of the toothpick onto the ground. “I just want to know if you saw that fucker die.”

I nodded.

Toothpick rubbed his face with a hoof and groaned. “Congratulations, Sis. You got yourself a free upgrade.” He scooped Opus with his wing and rolled off the couch. “I’ll be in my lab if anypony needs me.” He stopped and groaned. “For the new kids. That’s code for, I’m going to get work done. Don’t fuck with me unless the house is on fire. And even then, I’ll just be pissed you couldn’t figure out how to use the fire extinguisher.”

With that, Toothpick sulked his way towards the basement.

“He was…-something. Wasn’t he, Savage?”

Absolutely charming. He likely had mares eating out of his hoof. I approached the couch and sat down. Goddess not above this was comfortable. Between church pews, tents, and solid ground, I had not felt this comfortable in a long time. My eyes closed. It was rude to sleep on somepony’s furniture without being offered but I….

***

…-awoke on the floor. I got to my hooves and gazed outside. Darkness had fallen upon the Wasteland. Sleep had taken possession of my comrades. Lysandra was slumped against a chair. The chair appeared to be made of the same material as the couch. I assumed it was just as comfortable. Packrat was sprawled on the floor. She was nibbling on her hoof, and she continued mentioning the name Duststorm. Given the drool pouring from her mouth, I would say I had a decent idea of what she was dreaming of.

A flashing light emitted from the basement. I considered investigating, but I quickly decided against it. I would rather not disturb Toothpick while he was at work. On second thought, I would rather not engage him at all if I could avoid it. I opened the door and walked outside.

The first thing I noticed was the glint of a rifle in the distance pointing at me. However, the rifle pivoted away from me after a few seconds. I assumed somepony, or zebra, was on guard duty, and that I was not deemed to be a threat. I felt relief; I would rather not have been shot at. But, I could not deny, I felt slightly offended. Unless, of course, I was not a threat because the guard had seen me walking around town before. That outcome was satisfactory.

“Howdy, pardner.”

Hmmm? I turned around. I was greeted by the sight of a black mare, with lighter grey hair around her face. A black hat adorned the top of her wiry brown mane, and she had a rifle slung across her back. She spat on her hoof and offered it to me. “I’m Cheyenne. Friends call me Cheye.”

I stared at her hoof. I may have been calling myself Savage, but I did not always have to act like one. I dipped my head politely.

Cheyenne scraped her hoof against the ground. The saliva was gradually rubbed off. “That better?”

I touched hooves with her. Much better.

“Alrighty then.” She tipped her hat over her green eyes. “Yer with PR, ain’t cha?” I nodded again. Cheyenne whistled. “I wish ya luck with that one, Stranger. That Packrat is an odd one.”

No arguments here.

She cocked her head towards a shanty looking building. Most likely the saloon. “Care for a drink?”

My suspicions were confirmed. I shook my head. Both times I had alcohol resulted in my being rendered unconscious. If that were my only grievance, I supposed I could have looked past it. I had the last time I partook in drinking. Being unconscious that night robbed me of time with Lyra. I should have spent every moment of her final twilight with her. Drinking had deprived me of more time with her, and I was more than a little bitter.

“Aw, shoot, Stranger. It ain’t just booze in there. Just have some water. Or soda.”

Now that was agreeable. I followed Cheyenne to Holder’s Hole. The world “shit” had been spray painted in-between the two words, but a large X covered up the profanity. The X, of course, consisted of a pair of light grey legs. It just was not the Wasteland without dismemberment or dead foals.

Cheyenne bucked open the swinging doors. I could be honest. Holder’s Hole was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. The tables looked clean. The chairs were not a breeding ground for splinters. The booths appeared worn out, but that was my only aesthetic complaint.

I saw two earth ponies, one stallion and one mare, sitting in one of the booths. The auburn stallion was wearing a leather vest which was reinforced with metal links. In addition to his armor, he carried a sword at his waist. Even in the Crystal Wasteland that was a rarity. Given the prevalence of firearms, I wondered how well a sword suited him. On one hoof, he was alive. On the other, how much combat had he actually seen?

The mare he was speaking with was garbed in splendor. A red velvet dress clung tightly to her body. Her dress did not cover her legs, which gave me an ample view of them. Though I was not focused on her legs for lustful reasons. Rather, I was drawn to the knives she barely concealed within her stockings. Her face was white, but I could not tell if it was her natural color or if she had done so with makeup. Given the blush on her cheeks, mascara on her eyes, and the lush lipstick she wore, it was very hard to tell. The mare walked away from the table into a backroom, and the stallion followed her.

I did not bother thinking about their clandestine activities. I would much rather listen to the music around me. There was a stage in the corner of the room. A golden-brown earth pony with a russet mane sat on a stool on stage. He cradled a saxophone in his hooves. I felt chills as I heard him play. There was legitimate swagger to his music

A sound coming from the bar caused me to look in that direction. The sound I heard was Shadow snoring on a barstool. Next to her was a cream unicorn with viridian mane, who was tapping her hoof as she drank from a glass. I noticed two things about her. First, her horn had been badly chipped. It almost resembled a key. Second, there was a half-empty bottle of golden liquid around her neck. From the aroma wafting from her direction, I assumed it was perfume.

Cheyenne approached the mare and lightly tapped her on the head. “Howdy, Pricilla.”

Pricilla turned around and half-heartedly swatted at Cheyenne. “Hey, Cheye.” She looked at me with eyes as black as pitch. She nudged Cheyenne with a grin. “Convinced Packrat to share, eh?”

Cheyenne sighed. “This is Pricilla. She runs the Shit Shop.”

Shit Shop?

“Damn straight I do.” She raised her empty glass at me. “Shit Shop. ‘Cause I got all the shit you need at my shop.” She took a sip from her glass. Obviously, she came up empty. She opened her eyes and looked dumbfounded. “Speaking of things I need.” She banged her glass twice on the bar. “Sparks! Another round.” She looked back at Cheyenne. “Sis?”

“Sparkle Cola for us.” Cheyenne looked at me. “Does that sound okay, Stranger?”

I nodded.

“Deuces on the Sparkle Cola.” Pricilla banged her hoof twice, again, on the bar. “Chop, chop.”

The door behind the bar opened. A young pegasus with breathtaking orange eyes and very pronounced eyelashes pranced out of the back room. A bottle of liquor balanced on one wing, while twin Sparkle Colas balanced on the other. The drinks delicately slid in front of us. The pegasus fluttered her flame-like eyes in my direction. “Just let me know if you want something with a little more buck.”

Oh. This was stallion. I had not expected that.

Pricilla scoffed. “Stop teasing the new guy, Sparks.”

“Who said I was teasing?” He tapped his wing against my bottle. “On the house.” He tapped Cheyenne’s bottle as well. “For you too.”

Cheyenne tipped her hat. “Thanks, Sparks.” She took a drink. “Parden my askin’, but why so friendly?”

“It’s his first time, and a little generosity goes a long way to building clientele. Besides, I’ve gotten more than enough caps from your sister tonight.”

“Bastard,” Pricilla grumbled mid-gulp, which led to her spitting liquid onto her lap.

Sparks waved a wing in her direction. “Five bits for a bib.”

Pricilla narrowed her eyes. “Fuck you, Sparkle Cola.” She looked down and wiped her hoof on her lap. Her lips curled, and her nose wrinkled. She placed five bottle caps on the table. “Give me the damn bib.”

Sparkle Cola nodded and retreated to the back room. Once he had gone, Pricilla let out a long sigh. “I made myself look like an idiot, didn’t I?”

Absolutely. She may have been able to salvage some of her dignity if she had not purchased the bib. Since my response would not have been comforting, I ignored her and took a drink of my Sparkle Cola. Ahh. The fizz was refreshing to say the least. Especially after drinking contaminated water for the past few days.

“Shoot, Sis. I don’t reckon it makes much difference seein’ as how he’s a colt-cuddler, an’ all.”

Pricilla groaned and rested her head on the bar. “The good ones always are. Especially if they’re cute too.” She looked at me. “Are you a colt-cuddler?”

I shook my head.

“Looking for a mare to settle down with?”

I shook my head again.

She rolled her eyes. “Just as I thought. I’m doomed to be single forever. Doomed I tell you!”

Cheyenne kissed her sister’s broken horn. “There, there, hun. It’ll be okay. You’ll find yerself a great stallion someday.”

“You don’t believe that. I can hear it in your voice!” Pricilla wailed.

I really did not feel like dealing with this right now. I offered Cheyenne a friendly smile, which she halfway returned. I finished my drink, patted Pricilla on the back, and walked out of the tavern.

Judging from the orange color in the sky, I assumed the sun was rising. My companions would likely be rising soon as well. Hmmm. On second thought, Lysandra would likely be rising soon. Packrat struck me as the type who would sleep in if left undisturbed. In which case, I would be sure to wake her. Then I would grab my effects and wait for the mysterious Sisters to join us. Hopefully after the mission was completed I would be able to procure a team to help me find Carbine.

Hold on, Carbine, I—

“Enjoying yourself, Glitter?”

I turned around. Toothpick was standing on his back legs, slouching against the wall of the saloon. There was a long toothpick in his mouth, which he nibbled on. His eyes were as sharp as broken glass. He slid off the wall and onto all four hooves. He approached me with a snarl. “I took the liberty of inspecting your battle saddle while you were out. It just looked so well made I couldn’t help myself.

“It’s in peak condition. There’s little to no wear and tear to the leather. The bit was working well too. Which leads me to believe one of two options, although they aren’t mutually exclusive. One, you rarely use it. Or, two, that it was designed by a genius. Oh wait, I already know that it was. Do you know why, Glitter?”

I had a feeling I knew where this was going. Try as he might, Toothpick was not going to make me feel guilt for killing that mare. She shot first. She missed. It was as much her fault as it was mine. Taking her battle saddle kept it in use. I was not so cold as to think he should thank me for keeping his creation in good condition. However, it was better than leaving it to rust in the snow.

He snarled at me and spat out his toothpick. It hit my cheek and bounced onto the ground. “You know, I think you already do. And from the look in your eye, I don’t think you give one iota of a fuck that you killed my friend.” He turned his head away and produced another toothpick from his feathers.

He flicked his gaze back towards me. “Listen closely, Glitter, because I’m only going to say this once. I don’t know what Duststorm did to get herself killed. She was always a hot-headed bitch. Knowing her, she probably deserved it. But since she’s my friend, I’m choosing to blame you instead. Since I’m blaming you, I’ve decided that I hate you. And you can ask Packrat. I get really stubborn once I’ve decided to hate somepony.” He snickered, and his new toothpick moved from the left side of his mouth to his right. “Well, I would say that. But since you’ve got that scar on your neck, I’m guessing you wouldn’t be able to ask her much of anything.”

I spat on him. My saliva splattered on his cheek. He was grieving for his friend; I could understand that. Especially since I had lost friends as well. He could blame me as much as he wanted. But I was not going to let some puny pegasus insult me like that. I also could not lie. It was cathartic to have my liquids end up on somepony else instead of the other way around. I just pra—hoped next time it would not end up being my blood.

Toothpick pressed a hoof against his cheek and wiped my saliva off. He pointed his hoof at me. I assumed he was trying to be intimidating, but it was hard to take him seriously with spit dripping from his hoof. Toothpick gazed at his hoof with a scowl. He seemed to pick up on his predicament. “Whatever.” He pivoted on his hooves and turned his back to me.

He started walking away from me, but he stopped. “There’s no point in telling you to stay away from my sister. She’s already set her sights on you, and I know she won’t let up. I doubt even telling her about Duststorm will stop her, so I won’t bother. But I want you to promise me that you won’t hurt my sister.” He spat out his toothpick. He turned his head to grab another from his feathers. As he did so, he glared at me. “What’s your answer, Glitter?”

I kissed the tip of one of my front hooves, and I touched that hoof onto another hoof. I did not know if Toothpick spoke hoof language, but I still gave him my answer. I promise.

He rolled his eyes with an obnoxious groan. “I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” His mouth latched onto another toothpick. He chewed on it violently as he walked away from me.

“Looks like you made a friend, Sparkles.”

It seemed the ghoul had awakened. Shadow trotted over to my side. She sat on her haunches and nudged me. “Real charmer, isn’t he?”

I had already made that joke to myself. But I still smiled at Shadow’s comment.

“Ah, so there’s more to you than just brooding stares and sniper rifles. That gives me something to work with.” She must have caught the roll of my eyes because she snickered. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. Ole Rocks let me know I’m going on a job with you, Squirt and Tart. I’m just happy to know one of the newbies will appreciate my humor.”

After dealing with Packrat’s leers and Lysandra’s general personality, it would be nice to have a female companion who was not interested in making lewd proposals towards me. But that was not the part of her statement my mind chose to focus on. Kid?

Although I could not see her mouth, I had a feeling Shadow was grinning. “I’m over two hundred years old. You’re all kids to me. And even if you weren’t, you’re a mud pony. I get to be condescending.”

To my surprise, there was no hint of scorn in her racist comment. It was unlike what I was used to hearing from the True Cadanites. I assumed Shadow was just trying to make an off-color joke. Instead of making me laugh, or uncomfortable, I was simply confused. And not simply because I was a crystal pony rather than just an earth pony. I pointed to her with a raised eyebrow.

She scoffed. I also imagined she was rolling her eyes. “I’m a horsefly.” She raised a hoof, and she rubbed it against her chest. “And back in my prime, I was one of the most badass fliers in Equestria. It’s why I got this here uniform.”

A horsefly? I had not yet heard that term before. I assumed it was another word for a pegasus. Likely an insult of some sort. This just raised more questions in my mind. If she were a pegasus, what happened to her wings? I had seen ghouls before. The flesh deteriorated, but the bones remained intact. Unicorns kept their horns after all. While I could not explicitly remember seeing a pegasus, I was sure they existed with their wings. Maybe not their feathers, but the skeletal structure of their wings should have remained intact. Shadow had nothing where her wings should have been. This horsefly had been grounded for life. I wondered what happened to her.

My silent questions were answered with a half-hearted chuckle. “We all have our secrets, Sparkles.”

I thought back to my conversation with Toothpick. I had killed one of Packrat’s friends. No, that was not true. I had killed two of them. There had been another pony with Dusttorm. Spyglass, I believed. Packrat and I were not especially close, but I did consider her to be my friend. I seemed to be running low on friends these days. If it was all the same to the powers that be, if there were any, I wanted to keep Packrat as my friend. Shadow said we all had secrets. It seemed I had one as well.

Footnote:

Quest Perk: Caravan Trail. Going on a road trip can be fun. Few words of advice. Don’t run out of food. And don’t die of dysentery! Experience points will be doubled until next level is reached.

Author's Note

Authors Notes:

Hey, all! As always, thanks to Kkat for the original story, to other authors who contribute to the universe, and to my readers. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and managed to survive Black Friday. To any students, finals are coming. So, best of luck!

2.5: Catch.22

2.5 Catch.22
“He was going to live forever, or die in the attempt”

“Guess who?”

Since I was unsure how to communicate that I knew it was Packrat, I did not respond.

“Give up. It’s me!”

I should have known.

“Ah, so this is where you’ve disappeared too, Savage.” Lysandra trotted behind Packrat. “You had Packrat worried sick this morning.”

Packrat nodded. “Yep-er-rooney.”

Yep-er-rooney? I sincerely hoped I never heard a term that stupid ever again.

“Yep-er-rooney is right, my good mare!”

“Indeed-er-riffic it is, my good mare.”

What now? I turned my head. In front of me was the most unnecessarily opulent carriage I had ever seen. I doubted it belonged to Maud Pie. The carriage’s wooden frame had a sparkling scarlet varnish. The door hinge was painted in a vibrant blue, and I noticed there was a sapphire embedded in the hinge. The spokes on the wheels were bright yellow. I was not sure if they were gold, but they created the illusion of gold at the very least. No wonder these ponies needed protection. All they were missing was a target painted on their side—oh, no. There it was painted on a window. Idiots.

Two mares stood atop the carriage with their backs facing me. Rather than barding, they wore identical plaid shirts and straw hats. Odd choice.

One of the mares raised her leg. “Prepare for a selection like you’ve never seen!”

The other mare raised a leg as well. “And make it double; we’re on sale you see.”

The first mare turned around. Her coat was a brilliant crimson, while her mane was a muted shade of blue. “To protect the Waste from emaciation.”

That was apparently the second mare’s cue to turn around. In contrast, her coat was a muted shade of blue while her mane was brilliant crimson. “To stock all weapons with ammunition.”

“We denounce the taxes of the NCR.”

“And bring you goods from cities afar.”

The red mare flipped her mane. “Shim.”

The blue mare grinned. “Sham.”

“The Shim-Sham Caravan, takes off at first light.”

“We’ll pay you handsomely if you protect us in a fight.”

A filly, who appeared out of nowhere, hopped onto each mare’s shoulders. Her coat was cream, while her mane was gold. It seemed she was the black sheep of the group. “Shaim, that’s right,” she said with significantly less enthusiasm than the other two.

The adult mares each extended a hoof to their sides, while the filly raised a leg towards the sky. I assumed it was supposed to look like she was punching the sky. Rather, it seemed she was shamefully admitting she was a part of the group. I could empathize. If this was what I signed up for, I wanted to leave. Immediately.

Packrat, of course, was clopping in applause. Lysandra’s mouth hung slightly open, as she stared at the carriage incredulously. “I don’t know where to begin with this.”

Shadow yawned and gave Lysa and me a nudge. “Welcome to hell, kids.” She trotted towards the carriage. I noticed that she was well-armed. There was a knife hidden in a sheath strapped to her shoulder. There was a holster by her hoof with a pistol, and she had a shotgun strapped to her back. She looked up at the mares and waved. “Hate to break your hearts, but first light was an hour ago.”

Shim’s lips twitched. “Maybe we would’ve been on time if somepony had remembered her lines.”

Sham’s nose wrinkled. “Maybe she would’ve remembered her lines if she hadn’t been distracted by somepony being drunk all night.”

Shaim sighed. “Maybe we would’ve been on time if you two weren’t total dipshits.”

The adults glanced at each other and smirked. Shaim pointed at them. “H…-hey! Don’t you da—”

The mares closed their eyes and dropped their shoulders. Shaim wobbled her hooves for stability, but her efforts were in vain. She fell and vanished from sight. The thud I heard indicated she had been reunited with the ground.

Shim opened one eye; the smirk had not left her face. “Whoops.”

Sham followed her companion’s, possibly her sister’s, actions. “So sorry, Shaim.”

Shaim emerged from behind the carriage massaging her head. “I really hate those bitches.” When she noticed me starting at her, she straightened up. “Yes. As those two geniuses explained, this is our Caravan. Those two make up sales, and I keep our gi—yes?”

Shadow raised a hoof. “Yeah, hate to break your heart, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid.”

“—But I don’t care. So let’s just go.” Without waiting for a reply, Shadow opened the door and hopped inside the carriage.

I felt myself grinning. I think I liked that horsefly. I followed her inside. The interior of the carriage was spacious. There was a cockpit in the front with two seats, a steering wheel, and far too many levers. The driver’s seat was elevated, likely so Shaim could reach the controls. A small attic was above me, and I noticed there was a trapdoor on the roof. The attic contained a bed, a large safe, and a cooler. I assumed whoever was not acting as the driver and co-pilot relaxed up there.

There was a bed in the main body of the carriage as well. The bed was situated amongst the stash of goods. The merchandise was stowed in a series of locked crates. Each crate had a word engraved on it. Food. Medicine. Weapons. Ammo. Porn. Of course there was a box for pornography. I also noticed there was a Chem box. That struck me as odd, since there was already a box for medicine. Was Med-X considered medicine or a chem?

I reached a hoof towards the box to quell my curiosity.

A large knife plunged into the crate. I instinctively shrank back. “Tisk, tisk, tisk, Sparkles.” Shadow sank her teeth around the knife’s rubber handle. She ripped it from the wood and slipped it into its sheath. “Don’t you know drugs are bad?”

I rolled my eyes and opened the crate anyways. Inside was a note. The note read, “Wrong crate, morons.” I assumed it had been written by Shaim. The chem crate was a decoy to lure thieves away from the actual merchandise. Smart move.

On further inspection, I noticed there was a figurine inside the crate as well. The figurine was of an orange pony with a trio of apples for a cutie mark. One of the Fallen Angels. I had seen something similar at Flash Sentry’s museum. I assumed there was a figurine of each Fallen Angel; there was possibly one of the Shadow Goddess as well. Hmmm. I wondered if I should continue referring to them by the names bestowed by the Book of Cadence or use their real names.

I knew the Shadow Goddess was named Luna. I also knew one of the Angels was Twilight from what I had heard from Flash Sentry’s note. I wondered who the others were. I gestured to Shadow and pointed at the orange pony.

“That’s Applejack. Head of the Ministry of Wartime Technology.”

Ministry of Wartime Technology? That was new. I assumed my confusion was apparent because I heard Shadow sigh. “Do you not know about that stuff where you’re from, Sparkles?”

I shook my head. Shadow sighed a second time. “Alright. Here’s the short version. Ponies and zebras had a war. Shit got bad at one point. Our glorious leader, Celestia, stepped down, and her sister, Luna, took her place. For some reason nopony really knows, Luna delegated power to the Elements of Harmony. Each bearer of the Elements got to make her own branch of the government. With me so far?”

I nodded. This was all familiar. I had never heard of the Ministries before, but I was aware of the Angels following Luna. I was unsure how the Old Empire fit into the story, if it did at all, though.

“Each Ministry had a purpose. T-Sparks ran the Ministry of Eggheads, which dabbed in magic shit. Don’t really know what they did, but I doubt anything good came from it. Flutters ran the Ministry of Pansies. Bunch of doctors who ran around healing ponies and zebras. Ironic that she invented the megaspells.

“The Hot One ran the Ministry of Propaganda. Exactly what it sounds like. Schizo had the Ministry of No Goddamn Privacy. They spied on everypony. Thought anypony could turn traitor. Guess they were right….-Fun fact. Old Rocks and Schizo were sisters, and Rocks worked for her. Apparently she was really good at getting ponies to talk.

“And lastly, there’s AJ.” She gestured towards the figurine. “She ran the Ministry of War Tech. They designed technology to help during the war. Armor. Weapons. It’s through tech that I got my suit and my dubs.”

Her what?

I could practically feel her grin. “Weather Weapons. Dubs for short. See, the Shadowbolts were a black ops squad that existed for the sole purpose of fucking up the zebras. Which we were good at. What made us so good was our weapons. Pegasi who worked at Tech made weapons out of clouds. That way they couldn’t be used against us by the zebras. Plus, all we had to go was fly up to reload.”

She raised her hoof with the holster and pulled out a sleek pistol made of black clouds. “This is Drizzler. She shoots condensed rain drops that have the stopping power of a bullet. She’s gotten me out of more situations than I can count.” She tapped the shotgun strapped to her back. “This bad boy shootings lightning bolts. Guess what his name is?”

I tapped the scar on my neck.

“Yeah, but I can read lips, dummy.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. There was no need for her to be so rude. “Thunderbolt?” I mouthed.

“Not even close. Zeus.”

“Zeus?”

“Yep. See some zebra tribes have a set of gods that they worship. One of ‘em was named Zeus, and he threw thunderbolts at his enemies. So it was almost as if their gods were turning against them. Made me feel even more badass.”

“You’re forgetting one.”

Shadow and I turned to see Lysandra enter the carriage. She trotted towards us slowly, and she ran her eyes over the interior. I had a feeling she was searching for anything worth stealing or bartering for. Though it was likely she was also checking for dust. “There’s also Rainbow Dash’s Ministry: The Ministry of Awesome.”

Shadow grunted. “I didn’t forget, Tart. I just didn’t feel like talking about it.”

Lysandra was smirking. “Too many bad memoires?”

“Nah. Too many good ones actually.” Shadow hopped onto the bed and stared out the window. “I’d rather focus on the present than dwell on the past. It’s easier to stay alive that way.”

“That is quite true. But haven’t you been alive long enough? Perhaps you should step aside so we younger ponies can inherit the world.”

“Oh yes. A world run by you, Tart. Can’t wait to see that.”

“Patience, Shadow. Maybe one day you will.”

“Well in that case, Celestia help us all.”

Lysandra chuckled. “Oh, before I forget. 'The Hot One?' I thought you weren’t into mares, Shadow.”

“I’m not. But it doesn’t mean I’m above looking.”

“Fair enough.”

I sat down and leaned back against one of the crates. I took off my battle saddle and saddle bags. As long as I kept them within reach, I decided I had no reason to wear it throughout the whole trip.

“Hey, guys!” Packrat hopped into the inside of the carriage. “What’s....” There was that balefire bomb again. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she stared at the crates. “There’s so much stuff here. Do you they still have it?” She snapped out of her trance and rushed towards the crate I was leaned against. In her haste, she knocked over my saddle bag. I shot her a glare, but she did not notice. She opened the chest, leaned inside and a green light filled the crate. She must have been levitated something. She spun around, and I saw a large rusty objecting levitating above her.

“Pray tell, Packrat, but what is that?”

Packrat dropped it into her hooves. To my surprise, it did not knock her over. She kissed its rusty barrel and stroked it with her hooves. “This beauuuuutiful thing is the Junk Jet. It’s the greatest weapon ever. Even more than Opus.” Her eyes widened for a moment. “No one tell Toothpick I said that.”

Lysandra raised an eyebrow. “The Junk Jet?”

Packrat nodded emphatically. “Mm-hmm. Instead of firing bullets it fires random crap. Forks, plates, teddy bears. It was made for me.”

“Try all you want, Packrat. We’re still not giving it to you for free.” The three mares piled into the carriage. Shaim and Shim went to the cockpit, while Sham shimmied up towards the attic.

“But. But. But. I need this. It was made for me.” She clutched it close to her chest and started whispering to the Junk Jet.

This was getting too bizarre for me. I focused my attention on my saddlebags. I stowed the hellhound tooth, my pens and paper into my bags. Then I noticed something I had entirely forgotten was in my possession: the Daring Do and the Balefire Bomb manuscript. Now I remembered why I had neglected to start reading. It started on page 178. Still, I supposed it would be more entertaining than listening to Packrat whisper to an inanimate object. Okay, A. K. Yearling, what have you got for me?

***

Daring Do sat in the cockpit of The Tank. In reality, it wasn’t actually a tank. It was a sleek, black, helicopter developed by the MWT. The helicopter had been equipped with a mounted gattling gun and a cloaking device. Although, the cloaking technology was still in the prototype phase. Which was the MWT’s way of saying it didn’t fully work. Of course not. Technology never worked, but Daring was thankful for that. Otherwise, Ahuizotl would have killed her off years ago.

Daring was scanning the skies with her binoculars. There weren’t reports of zebra activity near Hollow Shades, but a mare could never be too careful. Especially since zebras weren’t the real threat. Ahuizotl had been spotted roaming the area. He was likely after the same artifact Daring was.

The Tank hobbled in the air, causing Daring to drop her binoculars. She groaned and shot the pilot a dirty look.

Given that his barding covered his face, she could not be sure if the look was returned. “Sorry, Ms. Do, we’re experiencing some turbulence.” He paused to chuckle. “That, or somepony is having the night of their life back there.”

“As if.” Another pony had entered the back of the cockpit. She was wearing a form-fitting black and purple barding with streaks of yellow. On her flank was a skull with a wind protruding out of it. “We’re almost at the drop point, Ms. Do.”

“Already?” Daring scrambled to pick up her binoculars and stuff them in her coat pocket. “But I can’t even see Hollow Shades from here.”

The pony in front of her sighed. “We’re not adventurers, Ms. Do. We’re Shadowbolts. Assuming the cloaking tech doesn’t work, which it won’t, our chances of being spotted skyrocket once we're able to see the Shades. The last thing we need is for zebras to find out we’re here and capture us. So, our drop point isn’t all that close.”

For a moment, the Shadowbolt said nothing further. She just stood there. Feeling more than a little awkward, Daring asked, “Is there anything else?”

She chuckled and rubbed the back of her head. “Sorry, I’m just a really big fan. It’s so cool to see you in real life. Can I get your autograph when this is all done? Could you make it out to Cloudch—”

“That’s not your real name you’re about to say, is it, soldier?” a voice barked from behind.

She stood up right. “No, Ma’am!” She quickly relaxed and whispered. “To Twin.”

“Twin?” Daring asked.

Twin nodded. “It’s my call sign. Each of us have one based on our numbers. My number is 002. So, they call me Twin.” She stood aside and gestured to the other three Shadowbolts behind her. Their barding shared a cutie mark, but there was one major difference. Each emblem had a number written on it. The ponies in front of her were 010, 004, and 007. Sure enough, the pony Daring had just spoken to was 002.

Twin pointed to each of her companions and named them. “010 is X. Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Twin ignored him and continued with the introductions. “004 is Clover.”

Clover was in the midst of doing a yoga pose. She waved to Daring, which Daring returned.

“And the Shadowbolt in charge of our mission, 007—”

“We can save the introductions for later, Twin. Right now we have to make our jumps. X, you’re first.”

“Why do I always have to be first?”

“Because I like looking at your ass, that’s why.”

He titled his head towards her. “Wait, really?”

“No, dummy. I was just trying to make you feel better. Now, go!”

X scrambled to his hooves and to the edge of the helicopter. Daring heard him gulp. “This never gets easier.”

“Yes, it does.” 007 stepped up and kicked X out of the helicopter.

X screamed, and he flailed his hooves around. Daring gasped and stared at 007. 007 shrugged. “He’ll be fine. He always is.” She turned towards Clover. You’re up next.”

Clover saluted. “Ma’am.”

Clover approached the launching spot and dropped into the sky. Twin walked past Daring and followed suit.

007 gestured to Daring. “You’re next, Ms. Do.”

Daring couldn’t resist a grin. “That’s polite of you. You’re not letting me go first just so you can ogle my plot, are you?”

007 laughed. “Sorry to break your heart, but you’re not my type.”

As Daring approached the edge, she was overcome with two familiar sensations. The first, of course, was the feeling of vertigo that accompanied large heights. The second was the feeling that she was being watched. “I thought you said I wasn’t your type.”

“You’re not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t worth looking at.”

Daring looked back, prepared to retort. She was not prepared to be kicked out of the helicopter. It was through sheer force of will, but mostly luck, that she had been able to hang on to her hat. Clutching her hat close to her head, she kept her wings pressed tightly against her body.

Not yet. Not yet…-NOW! Her wings snapped open, and Daring began to glide. Below her was the glistening water of the Celestial Sea. Above her was the sky. Of course it was. Life could be lonely for an adventurer. But the sky was there no matter where in Equestria Daring ventured to. Even on her few trips outside Equestria, the sky was always there. That was the beauty of being a pegasus. Daring might be lonely sometimes, but she could never be homesick when home was just above her.

***

The carriage lurched to a stop. I dropped the pages of the manuscript. The pages landed on the ground in a scattered mess. I supposed that was a good place to stop. Hopefully when I picked it up, I would not be too lost.

A whistle from the front caught my attention. Shaim was looking back at us. She pointed towards the attic with her hoof. “We’ve got company.”

“Alright, kids, I’ll take the roof. Sparkles, use one of the windows as a sniping post. Squirt, you cover him. Tart, come up with me.”

Lysandra scowled. I doubted she enjoyed being ordered about. Any objections she had were kept to herself. She winked at me as she followed Shadow up to the attic and through the trapdoor.

Packrat and I each sat by a window. She stuck her head outside, while I peered through Savage’s scope. She immediately retreated inside. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

I could not blame her. I doubted I could either.

We were being accosted by children. A gang of roughly a dozen foals were standing around the carriage. One of them was carrying a pistol in his mouth. Another held a small knife. One of the filly’s brandished an assault rifle. It appeared she was missing some of her teeth. I assumed the recoil had not been her friend.

I took a deep breath. Okay, Sympho—it was Savage now. Okay, Savage, you can do this. Yes, I could do this. They were planning to attack the Caravan. Honestly, I could care less about what happened to Shim, Sham, and Shaim. But if I completed this job, I was one step closer to rescuing Carbine. I could kill for Carbine. Besides, Packrat was potentially in danger. I was willing to kill to protect Packrat; I proved that when I killed the hellhound. I could kill here too. I lined up Savage’s scope with a colt’s head. All I had to do was bite down on the bit. I could hit him right in the eye and kill him. Just like Joab had done to Missile.

I lowered my weapon. One dead foal was one too many, and I had seen far too many in my short time in the Wasteland. Even if I had never witnessed a foal’s death, I knew this was beyond me. I could never harm a child. That was another rule for my list.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Shadow was poking her head out of the trapdoor. “Hey, kids, how’re you all doing today? You feeling good?”

The colt who I had been aiming at stepped forward. He had a scar running across his left eye, and he carried a wrench in his mouth. He dropped the wrench; I assumed he did so in order to address Shadow.

“Give us all your shit, bitch.”

He certainly had a mouth on him. I might not have been willing to kill a child, but I could actually see myself harming one. For disciplinary reasons, of course.

“That’s just great. Hey, you wanna see a cool trick?” Before anypony could answer, Shadow pulled Drizzler from its holster. “Pick a body part. Any body part.” She pointed to the pony with the pistol. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Theed.”

“Seed?” The colt nodded. “Seed. That’s a great name. So great, I’ll let you pick. Seed, what body part?”

“Hooth.”

“Hoof is it.” She fired her weapon, and a bullet tore through Seed’s front hoof. He howled and dropped his gun. The filly with the assault rifle turned towards Shadow, but Shadow was faster. She put a bullet through the filly’s right ear. The filly shrieked, and her weapon clattered to the floor.

The colt with the wrench stepped forward. “Head.”

Shadow tilted her head. “What was that, tiger?”

He tapped his forehead with his hoof. “I choose head. So shoot me in the head.”

Shadow sighed and holstered Drizzler. “Alright. You called my bluff, kid. I’m not gonna kill ya.”

He sneered and pointed at the carriage. “Then give us all your stuff before w—”

His left eye disappeared. In its place was a gaping hole. He sputtered for breath for a second, maybe two, before he fell over.

A pink mare in a frilly pink dress had been standing beside him. She placed her front hooves on her cheeks and started screaming. Her screaming was cut short when a bullet tore through her neck. The other children ran around frantically. A few of them fell to the ground with holes in their faces, necks, or chests.

Click. Click. Click. “Oh, bother. It seems I’ve run out of ammunition. Packrat, would you be a dear and hand me some more bullets.”

“No.” Packrat’s voice was hollow. “They were foals, Lysandra. You can’t just....”

“I can. I did. And if you would be so kind as to provide me with more ammunition, I will continue to.”

“But they’re running. They’re not our enemies anymore.”

“Au contraire. They are raiders, Packrat. They will always be your enemy.”

“But you’re not our enemy anymore. We let you go, Lysa. Why can’t you do the same for them?”

Lysandra grunted. “I suppose I’m just wasting breath asking you to give me more ammunition.” She holstered her ivory revolver and came down from the attic. I assumed she had retrieved it from Packrat last night. “I don’t want to let them go because child soldiers are unpredictable. That makes them dangerous, and I would rather eliminate any potential liabilities.”

“Oh yeah?” Shadow hopped down from the attic. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Lysandra shrugged. “That would not be an incorrect assessment. I tried using child soldiers during my time in Vanhoover. The only time I had ever seen the Steel Rangers and NCR agree on anything was over stopping me.” She grinned. “Of course, they only stopped me so they could use the child soldiers themselves in their own merry war.”

She glanced at each of us. Each time, she deliberately looked us in the eye. Or in Shadow’s case, her mask. “I can admit to having little moral ground, but I fail to see how the NCR or Steel Rangers could paint me as a villain for employing the same methods as them.” She scoffed. “At least my ponies were never slaves or indentured warriors. They were free to leave at any time.”

“Did any of them leave?” Shadow asked.

Lysandra shook her head. “Rarely. A mare in my position was, how shall we say, persuasive when it came to her subordinates.” She walked towards one of the beds and sat down. “Regardless of my methods, the threat is passed. I, for one, would appreciate some time to rest. Feel free to join me if you’d like. Packrat?” she added with a flutter of her eyes.

Packrat fixed her eyes on Lysandra. She licked her lips, and I noticed the drool starting to form in her mouth. This was an interesting situation. What would win out? Packrat’s moral displeasure towards Lysandra or her desire? Packrat took a step towards Lysandra, hesitated, and then she turned towards me. “You’ve been quiet, Savage. What do you think?”

Something in Packrat’s gaze silenced any desire to have a sarcastic thought. Rather, I focused on what I truly did think of what transpired. I was not a fan of killing foals, but something had to be done. They were attackers, and we had a job to do. Lysandra may not have been in the right, per say, but I could not fault her for acting in defense. What I could fault her for was continuing to shoot at escaping children. Whatever history she had with child soldiers did not justify her callousness.

I took a pen and a sheet of paper from my bag and scribbled my thoughts. I offered the note to Packrat. She flushed and shook her head. “Um, yeah. I’m not really the best at reading.”

I titled my head towards Shadow.

“Alright. I can take a hint.” Shadow snatched the paper from Packrat and scanned it quickly. “Hmph. You’ve got a real crystal heart there, don’t cha, Sparkles?”

I had no idea what she meant by that. I did not get a chance to ask her, because Packrat was hopping up and down beside her. “What does it say, Shadow?”

Shadow cleared her throat. “What is done is done. Our thoughts on Lysandra’s actions do not change the fact that there are dead foals. It is far more useful for us to focus on the job than to dwell.”

All I needed was to apply that reasoning to Lyra and I might be happy one day.

“I believe that’s a fair assessment.” Lysandra laid down and sprawled her body. “What’s done is done. Let’s move on then. Shall we, Packrat?”

Packrat hesitated, but she approached the bed nonetheless. Shadow made a gagging sound, and she curled up beside a window. I made my way to the attic. I wanted to find a private place where I could continue to read. I remembered Packrat had been reading a Daring Do book. I should letter her borrow this one once I had finished it.

Unfortunately, Sham had beaten me up here. She was asleep on the bed, which gave me less space to occupy. It may not have been private, but it was quiet. Unless she started snoring. Hoping she would not, I grabbed the top page from my stack and started reading….

***

Hollow Shades could best be described as an unholy cross between a jungle and a swamp. There were bugs, large animals, and an overgrowth of vegetation. Also, the heat was sweltering. Daring wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and shook it off her hoof. How are they not dying in that barding?!

The five of them walked through the vegetation. 007 had ordered to them to not disrupt nature as much as possible. The less evidence they left behind, the better. Clover took point, Twin and X flanked Daring, while 007 took the rear. Despite 007’s orders, the Shadowbolts were armed to the teeth. Each of them carried a knife, a pistol, grenades, and a shotgun.

Daring, on the other hoof, was equipped with her usual weapons: her wits and her wings. Though having binoculars, a compass, and a map also helped. “According to the charts I saw, we should be almost there.”

“How close is almost there?” X asked. “My hooves are staring to hurt.”

Twin snickered. “Poor excuse for a Shadowbolt, you are, X.”

“Actually, it’s normal for a pegasus to experience hoof fatigue.” Daring stretched out her wings. “Our bodies were built for flight; earth ponies were built for large amounts of walking. It’s just science.” While that was technically true, Daring was just hoping to avoid another squabble. Those two bicker like a married couple.

Clover suddenly stopped walking. She turned around and titled her head. “Speaking of ground, we’ve got a problem here.”

I actually said earth not ground but whatever, I suppose. When Daring reached Clover’s position, she realized what the problem was. The ground they had been treading on was peat. They had to tread lightly, but they had been safe. Before them, however, there was no ground. It had been submerged under a layer of murky water.

“Oh no.”

“What’s the matter? It’s just water.” X arched his back and flapped his wings. “We can just fly over it.”

“No!” X shrank back at Daring’s tone. She took a second to compose herself. “Sorry, but no.” She gestured to the water. “Can you see anything under there?”

“Underwear.” X muttered to Twin. He received a sharp smack to the back of his head. Courtesy of 007.

007 turned her attention to Daring. “No, we can’t.”

“Right. You can’t. But the cragadile, who’s more than likely living down there can see you. And if you fly over it, it will snatch you out of the sky. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.”

“We can fly high enough over the water,” Clover pointed out.

“But they can jump like nopony’s business. Again, I’ve seen it happen.”

007 stepped to the edge of the water. “We also can’t fly too high and risk revealing our position.” She dabbed her hoof in the water. “The temperature is too warm to freeze. Especially with the sun beating down.” She turned to Daring. “How do you suggest we get across?”

Daring looked down at her chart. “I suggest we don’t. Cragadiles are too dangerous. We have to find a way around the water.”

007 shook her head. “That’ll take too long. If Ahuizotl is after the meteorite, then that means we have a time limit. We have to get across now.”

“But—”

“I’m in charge of this mission, Ms. Do. Your concerns have been voiced and considered. But I am making a decision.” She arched her backs and spread her wings. “Besides.” Daring could practically hear the grin on 007’s face. “We’re the goddamn Shadowbolts. Danger is our job.”

Before Daring could dissent, 007 sprang into the air. From the depths of the bog, a cragadile burst with its maw gaping.

“Watch out!” Daring called.

Daring’s warning was largely unnecessary. 007 expertly rolled away from the cragadile. A second one jumped out of the water. Its dripping jaws were open and headed straight for 007. She responded by drawing her pistol and firing two shots into the monster’s eye. The cragadile’s limp body crashed into the water. A third cragadile used the second’s body as a springboard. It lunged towards 007 and nearly took a bite of her hoof.

007 responded by tucking her body into a ball. She managed to just sail over the cragadile’s head, and she rolled across the water. She broke out of her ball and landed on all four hooves. She skidded when she touched the ground. In a fluid motion, she turned around and fired four shots from her pistol. The first cragadile was struck in both eyes, while the third was hit in the back. It landed back in the water and disappeared from sight.

What transpired had felt like a few minutes, but it had occurred in the blink of an eye. Daring was used to that feeling, but she was more accustomed to being the one in danger. Not the witness to it.

007 retrieved a clip and loaded it into her pistol. “Come on, slowpokes, we don’t have all day.”

The others took turns crossing the water. The third cragadile poked its head out, but it never moved. I don’t think he liked being shot at. I don't blame him. Daring had been the last to cross. She flew across the water, and the cragadile remained stationary. It simply watched her with its large yellow eyes. Daring landed gracefully on her hooves.

007 nodded. “Alright, team, positions. Clover, you’re still on point. Ms. Do, kindly tell us where the fuck we need to go.”

Daring flinched. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you not to swear?”

007 grunted. “Celebrities,” she muttered. Louder she said, “Ms. Do, my job is not to make you feel comfortable. My job is to locate that meteorite and bring it back before somepony else, or whatever the fuck Ahuizotl is, gets to it first. Your job is to get me and my team there in the fastest way possible. If you have concerns, please voice them. If you have personal preferences about how we handle our business, please keep them to yourself.” She let out a long sigh. “But, if you insist, I suppose I can keep my swearing to a minimum. Deal?”

007 outstretched her hoof. Daring stared at it a moment, but she shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you Ms…-what’s your call sign?”

“Prism.”

“Ms. Prism. I will make my concerns and preferences known. You’re a Shadowbolt. Congratulations! You’ve been doing missions for months now. Right?”

“That’s classified.”

“But probably not incorrect. I, on the other hoof, have been going on dangerous explorations for years now. My way of doing things may seem like simple comfort to you, but I’m still alive. If you ignore me, that’s your problem. But if you do something reckless and end up dead, don’t come crying to me about it.”

Prism was silent for a moment. A long moment. Then she turned to her Shadowbolts. “You heard the mare. If any of you dummies so much as thinks of a foul word, I’ll have you scrubbing the barracks with nothing but a tampon and your own spit. That clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Prism turned back to Daring. “Anything else you’d like to add, Ms. Do?”

Daring turned back to the water. “If at all possible, I’d like to avoid any casualties. I’m not asking you to not shoot if you get attacked. But I’ve found in my travels that nature seems to be aware of things. If you take care of her children, she’ll look after you. If you hurt her, then she’ll make sure you die in quicksand. Again, seen it happen.”

Prism nodded. “Noted. Now can we please get going?”

Daring trotted forward. “Yes. Yes, we may.”

***

As riveting as Ms. Do’s adventures were, I stopped reading to address a more urgent issue. I was hungry. I walked down from the attic. Lysandra was still on the bed. She was sound asleep, and Packrat was in bed with her. One of Lysandra’s hooves was wrapped around Packrat’s waist, and Packrat was nibbling on the hoof. I could not help but be surprised by the intimacy. Considering what Packrat did to Lysandra’s face, I assumed Lysandra harbored a grudge. I felt perverted for thinking so, but I was happy to see these two mares sharing a bed together.

Shadow, on the other hoof, had not shared the bed with them. She was sitting by a window with her head down. I assumed she was asleep given her posture, but it was impossible to tell given her mask. I sat across from her and wondered what was behind that mask. She was a ghoul, so I could make a few assumptions. Her flesh would be leathered. Judging from her voice, her vocal chords would be scratched. At least hers worked; I envied her that.

I cast a brief glance at her flank. There it was: 007. What it a coincidence, or was I actually reading part of my companion’s history? In that case, maybe I should begin referring to her as Prism instead of Shadow.

“You hungry?” Shaim was looking at me from a mirror. “As long as you don’t eat too much, food is on the house. Feel free to grab an apple or something.”

I nodded my thanks. I opened the crate labeled “Food” and retrieved an apple. I raised the it as a toast.

“So what’s your story?”

I bit into the apple and shrugged.

Shaim grunted. “You’re a real talker, ain’t ya?”

I tilted my head back to give her a glimpse of my scar.

“Oh.” She glanced away from the mirror and focused on the road. “Sorry abo—oh, shit.”

I did not like the sound of that. I resumed my position by the window. A glance through Savage informed me we were under attack. Again.

Four fully grown ponies stood in the middle of the road: three stallions and a mare. One of them wielded a battle saddle equipped with twin shotguns. Another held a whip with a spiked ball at the end in his mouth. The third, a hulk of a stallion, wore metal gauntlets on his hooves. The mare stood in front of the trio with a sword at her waist. Swords were rare back home, despite being more civilized. I was quite surprised to see one here. Although I doubted it would protect her from one of Savage’s bullets.

I shook Shadow awake. She grumbled something about “chow time” before being fully alert.

“Sparkles? Are we under attack?” Not yet. I shrugged and offered her a chance to look through the scope. She nodded to herself. “I recognize that mare. Slavers. Thanks for the wakeup call, Sparkles.” She tapped me on the shoulder and proceeded to wake up Packrat and Lysandra. “Wake up, lovebirds. Slavers outside.”

Packrat hopped to her hooves and retrieved Opus. Lysandra, however, rose slowly. She yawned and patted her mouth with her hoof. She smacked her lips and glared at Shadow. “May I shoot them? Or will you all throw a fit again?”

“No, you may not.” Shadow reached behind her and retrieved Zeus. “It’s my turn to have some real fun.”

“Then why did you wake me up?”

Shadow snickered. “So you can watch a pro at work.” Shadow scrambled back up to the attic and poked her head through the trapdoor. “Hey, how’s everypony doing on this beautiful night? Everypony havin’ a good time?”

The mare raised her head. She touched a hoof to the hilt of her blade. “We are here t—”

Shadow shook her head. “Woah, hold on there for a second, friend. Two things. One, hate to break your heart, but I don’t give a shit. Two, fuck you.”

I watched through Savage’s scope as Shadow opened fire. A lightning bolt shot the pony with the shotguns in the chest. Electricity discharged from the bolt, and I watched the poor stallion fry before my eyes.

“And you thought my methods were coarse,” Lysandra scoffed.

Shadow cocked Zeus. “Now, boys and girl, it looks like you’ve got two choices. A, attack. Use your flail, throw your sword. Jump at me with those bulky hooves of yours. And if you hit me, it’s game over for me. But if you do attack, you better pray to Celestia that you don’t fucking miss. Option B, you scamps drop your weapons, get back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and you don’t bother this Caravan for the rest of your days. Sound good?”

The flail clattered to the ground. The other stallion removed his gauntlets. The mare glared at them before staring up at Shadow. She unsheathed her sword and dropped it on the ground. She approached her fallen comrade. She closed her eyes and touched her hoof to his wound. Then she did something monumentally stupid. She slid her hoof towards one of the shotguns and pulled the trigger. Her shot went nowhere near Shadow, or even the carriage for that matter, but she made her stance clear.

Shadow laughed. A hearty, raspy, laugh. “Wrong answer.”

Indeed it was. It was part of my job description to fend off attackers. I fired one shot. That was all it took to turn her face into mush. Twelve ponies.

Shadow laughed again. “Well, well, well. Looks like I get to conserve some ammo. Unless you boys ‘ve changed your minds.” One of the stallions was shaking uncontrollably. The other wet himself. “I’ll take that as a no. Ciao, boys.”

The stallions bolted. The large one tripped over his hooves, but he managed to avoid falling over. He was surprisingly nimble for such a large pony. Once the ponies were gone, Lysandra took a glance outside. Her eyes twinkled, and she narrowed them seductively at Shim. “Darling, are those weapons outside up for grabs?”

Shim straightened up. “They are if you are.”

Lysandra turned her head away. She placed a hoof on her cheek, in feign embarrassment. “I’m all yours if you could give me that sword.”

Shaim grunted. “I mean this quite literally when I say this. Fuck no. That sword is worth way more than your private parts. It’s worth at least seventy-five percent of your share.”

Lysandra gasped. “Seventy-five percent? That’s ghastly. I’ll pay forty for it.”

Shaim shook her head. “Too low. Seventy.”

Lysandra took a step forward. “Forty-five.” Shaim remained quiet. Lysa sighed. “Fifty-five. That’s as high as I’ll go.”

Shaim kept quiet, but I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. “I might still be able to sell it for a higher price somewhere else though.”

Lysandra scoffed and turned her back. “Fine, then. The deal is o—”

“Sixty, take it or leave it.”

Lysandra twirled back towards Shaim. She stuck out her hoof, and the two mares shook on it. “Very well. You will keep sixty percent of my profits. And I get Margaux.”

“Margaux?”

Lysandra nodded. “Yes, Margaux.” She focused intently on the sword until it disappeared. It reappeared in front of Lysandra. She had teleportation magic? That was unexpected. Her breaths were short and shallow for a few moments. “Teleportation is always more taxing than I would like.” She lifted the sword with her hoof and inspected the hilt. “As I suspected. Do you see this?”

Shaim and I gazed at the sword’s hilt. There was an engraving of a jewel surrounded by flower petals. “This sword was made for me by a Steel Ranger blacksmith. I had to fuck him for twelve hours to get him to agree. The engraving may not be my cutie mark, but it was the symbol of my reign in Vanhoover. The Pearl they called me. The Death Orchid.”

“And now you’re with us!” Packrat nudged Lysandra with a bright smile. “If you had stayed in that city, you never would have met us. Can you imagine that?”

It was subtle, but I noticed the missing portion of Lysandra’s face twitch. “Yes. Hard to imagine.”

The disdain in her voice was clear to all except Packrat, who continued to smile. I doubted Lysandra would start a fight, even with her new blade, but I did not want to deal with her while she was having a mood. Not that I much liked dealing with her at all. Besides, she and Packrat had already slept. I had killed in protection of the Caravan. I believed I earned some rest.

I slinked onto the bed. I heard Shadow talking. I assumed she was making a joke of some sort, but I could not make out what she was saying. I was too busy falling asleep.

***

I awoke from a dreamless sleep. I could get used to that. It was far better than having nightmares of my sister or my dead friends. The sun was shining above the cloud cover. Assuming we had been travelling all night, we should have been close to Neighagra if not there already.

Shadow had resumed her spot by the window with her head down. Lysandra had fallen asleep next to me. Packrat, however, was nowhere to be found. I checked the cockpit first. Shaim was sprawled out on the co-pilot’s chair. Her back hooves twitched as she snored. Sham was in the driver’s seat humming to herself. I checked the attic next. Shim was sleeping with a bottle of Sparkle Cola held close to her chest.

All that left was the roof. I opened the trapdoor and poked my head through. We were not in Neighagra yet, but it was close. I could see buildings in the distance. Up close, I could see patches of barren earth. A few rabid dogs were walking a ways away from us. They seemed to know better than to attack a caravan.

I also saw Packrat sitting on the roof of the carriage. She sat with her back facing me; her mane was swaying silently in the breeze. Her head was down, and it seemed she was staring at that device on her leg. The PipBuck I think it was called.

“Hey, Savage.”

I wondered how she knew it was me.

She looked back at me with a smile. “Anypony else would have made more noise.” She tapped a space next to her. “Want to sit with me?” She gulped and shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that in that way or anything. I’m just asking if you want to sit with me. That’s okay, right? I won’t get swatted.”

I took my place at her side. I raised my hoof towards her. She closed her eyes and winced. Was she really that afraid of me? I felt slightly guilty that I had that effect on her. Mostly, however, I felt amused. I had never considered myself to be intimidating or threatening. This was an interesting change. I did not swat her. Instead, I patted her head.

She opened her eyes and scowled. “I’m not a filly, Savage.”

Could have fooled me. Alas, I supposed she was right. I should not be patting mares on the head. I began to remove my hoof, but she grasped it with her front hooves. She was blushing harder than I had ever seen. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop.”

I smiled down on her and continued to pat her head. It felt strange, though. I remembered Orchestra doing the same thing when I had been injured one day. I could not quite remember how I got injured, but I had been crying. Orchestra had rubbed my head and just let me cry. I was half expecting Packrat to cry at some point.

She glanced back down at her PipBuck. “Still no red dots.”

There was something in her tone I did not care for. She sounded almost disappointed. I removed my hoof. She opened her mouth to protest, but she was silenced by my look. She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just…-I was useless. I couldn’t shoot kids, Savage. I just couldn’t. And then you and Shadow took care of the slavers. I hate not contributing. I like helping ponies. It feels wrong to sit by and let them do all the work.” She lifted her head and stared at the road. “That’s why I’m up here. If we get attacked again, I’ll be the first line of defense.”

I almost had the opposite problem. I was afraid I was becoming too aggressive. I still had my rules. I could only kill in defense, and I could kill monsters. Yet I had still killed twelve ponies, one demon, and Lysandra’s hellhound. Not to mention the ghouls I had not bothered keeping track of.

With her eyes still focused on the road, Packrat was fiddling with her PipBuck’s radio. The first station I heard was static. She changed it to another station. “And that’s why Dash is bad. Badda baddum.” It sounded like a commercial of some kind. She changed it to another station. “Help, please! I'm under attack. I lost my unit. I’m at 92, 77, 12. Help, please! I was attack b—”

Packrat turned the radio off. Her PipBuck now had her full attention. She pressed a few buttons, and I saw a map appear on the screen. A red dot appeared in a mountain range. The Crystal Mountains. “Looks like we have something to keep us busy after w—hey, what’s wrong?”

I was shaking my head. No. I never wanted to go back there. It had been hard enough to get out. It was only through sheer luck ‘Chestra had decided to spare me. I doubted I would be so lucky a second time if I ran into her. Even if I avoided my sister, there were the other True Cadanites. I knew for a fact they would not let me go if they found me with Packrat. I could fight back now, but I could still lose. If I were to lose a fight, I would much rather it be while rescuing Carbine. Going back there was a mistake.

Then Packrat looked at me. There was a fierce determination in her eyes. It was a look I had seen on Sombra’s face when he shared his dying words. I doubted there was a will more powerful than that of a dying pony. If Packrat was that determined, I would not be able to stop her. An image appeared in my mind of Packrat alone in the frozen north. Her barding was tattered, there was a bleeding cut in her cheek, and she was walking at a snail’s pace. She was surrounded by True Cadanites. They were approaching her slowly. They were in no hurry. Their prey would not be able to escape. She glared at them defiantly, but she collapsed before she could actually fight them off.

My visualization may have veered on the side of the over dramatic, but I felt that would be the truth. The True Cadanites would stop at nothing if they found a non-crystal pony. Especially if she were alone.

If I were with her, she would at least have a pony to watch her back for her. She had saved my life at the Fun Store, killed the Carbine-raider before he could harm us, and she had taken me to her home. I felt indebted to her. I also doubted Maud Pie would be willing to lend me her ponies if I returned to her without Packrat. It was moral as much as it was pragmatic. But I felt my very core chill as I thought of returning to the Crystal Wasteland.

“Huh? Who’s that?”

Packrat had switched back to the screen with the dots. A yellow dot was approaching us rather swiftly. I raised my head and watched as a pegasus flew towards us. At least, I first believed it to be a pegasus. As it grew closer I realized I had been mistaken. Pegasi wings were feathery, while this creature had the leathery wings of a bat. Its teeth were closer to fangs. Its eyes were closer to the eyes of a cat than a pony.

The batpony landed on the road in front of us. Packrat immediately aimed Opus. “Who are you?”

The batpony raised one of its front hooves. I noticed its flesh was rather leathery. Another ghoul. “Please. Do not be alarmed, young ponies. I have simply come to sample your wares.” He slowly turned around in place. “As you can see, I am unarmed. I come in peace.”

“Ah, there you two are.” I turned around to see Lysandra emerge from the trapdoor. “I awoke and was shocked that I could not find you.” She stepped onto the roof and stared quizzically at the batpony. “Have we met somewhere before?”

“Is that your way of saying all Notcis look alike?”

“You misunderstand me, sir. I was just wondering if we’d ever conducted business before. Perhaps not. Lysandra.”

“That makes you the legendary Pearl of Vanhoover.” The batpony, or Noctis as he seemed to call himself, bowed. “This is a surprise. Forgive me, but I can hardly call it a pleasure.”

“Oh? And why might that be?”

“Simple. I went to Boulder Springs to ask for your execution. Well, I suppose that isn’t entirely accurate. I asked for your hellhound to be brought to me. I assumed you would likely be killed in the process.”

“Oh, yessss.” I felt goosebumps as she hissed. “Now I remember you. You tried to buy my hellhound from me after I lost Vanhoover. You said you would make me regret spurning your offer.”

“That I did.” He took a few steps forward. “Do you regret spurning my offer?”

“Not nearly as much as you will regret your offer to Boulder Springs.” Lysandra pointed her pistol at the strange pony.

“Lysa, no!” Packrat tried to knock the gun away. “He’s a client!”

Lysandra put a hoof on Packrat’s head and held her at bay. “He’s far more than that, Packrat.” Click. “Hmmm?” Lysandra fired her gun twice more. Click. Click. “That’s right. I ran out of ammunition last night. My mistake.” She holstered her gun and opened the trap door. “In that case, I suppose my business here is concluded. Mister….”

“Cornelius.”

“Yes, Mister Cornelius. You have a lovely day.”

“To you as well, my dear.” Once Lysandra had retreated, Cornelius chuckled. “I don’t know about orchid, but she sure is a rose. So full of thorns.”

The trapdoor burst open behind me. Shadow leapt out of the attic and pointed Zeus at Cornelius. “What are you after?”

“Business. This is a caravan, right?” Cornelius strutted towards us with a shake of his head. “Not everything I do is about you, D—”

“Shadow.”

Cornelius flinched, and his smile gradually faded. “Shadow. A fitting name for a pony who disappears so easily.” Shadow was silent, and that reaction returned the smile to Cornelius’ face. “No matter, Shadow, no matter. Wherever you disappear to or whomever you claim to be.” He reached a hoof within the collar of his jacket and revealed the end of his necklace. It was a figurine of a cyan pegasus with a rainbow mane. I presumed this was the Rainbow Dash Shadow had mentioned. “I always have a piece of you with me.” He walked towards the entrance of the carriage, and he disappeared from our line of sight.

Packrat leaned closer to Shadow. “Who is this guy?”

“The new warden of the Ninth Circle.”

Packrat and I shared confused glances.

“It was a prison built in Hollow Shades for prisoners, war criminals, and traitors. Cornelius was a prisoner. He was part of the Night Patrol—a regiment of Nocti who acted as Princess Luna’s personal guard. He went AWOL and was sent to the Circle. About eighty years ago, he led a prison riot. Now, he’s the top dog.

“How do you know him? And what did he mean he’d always have a piece of you? And h—”

Shadow covered Packrat’s mouth with a hoof. “Easy there, Squirt. Remember what I said when we first met?”

Packrat nodded sadly. “Auntie Shadow doesn’t like nosy kids.”

“Exactly.” Shadow ruffled Packrat’s mane with a hoof. “But I guess that’s kind of a lie, ‘cause I do like you.”

Packrat giggled, and Shadow put her hoof down. “Seriously, though. I’d rather keep my history to myself if you don’t mind.”

Packrat was clearly disappointed, but she nodded. “Okay. I do have onnnnne question I want to ask, though.”

Shadow sighed. “Alright, Squirt. Fire away.”

“Are you Rainbow Dash?”

Shadow shook her head. “Nah. As far as I’m concerned, Rainbow Dash died a long time ago. Damn shame too. She was the best flyer I’d ever seen.” Shadow turned back. “I’m headed down there. Make sure Cornelius doesn’t do any of his freaky batpony shit.”

I decided to follow her. I had never seen a Nocti before, I had never read about them before either. I could admit to being more than a little curious. I gave Packrat a nod and headed down. Cornelius bowed when Shadow and I descended. He smiled, and I could see every one of his fangs. The fact that he had fangs at all was disconcerting to say the least. It was downright terrifying to say the most.

“And what might you be, my friend?”

Shadow nudged me. “Sparkles is a crystal pony. From the Old Empire.”

“Ahh. How interesting.” He licked his lips and turned towards Shim and Sham. “How much?”

“For what?”

“For him?”

Cornelius nodded. “I want him. How much is he?”

Not for sale. I stomped my hoof defiantly and glared at Cornelius. I was nopony’s possession. Not to Cadance or even Lyra Heartstrings XIII. I was certainly not going to be his.

“He’s not ours.”

“So he’s not for sale.”

Thank you, ladies. Although I could not help but wonder if they would have considered selling me if I had been one of their employees.

Cornelius closed his eyes and shook his head. “Such a pity. Perhaps I can get him another way on another day.” He opened his eyes and began to inspect the contents of the medicine box.

Shadow took this time to approach the sisters. “Since we’re already stopped, I’d like to go ahead and head back. We’re close enough to Neighagra, and you have three ponies from Boulder Springs who will protect you until you get there.”

The sister’s gave her incredulous looks.

“Why so eager to go?”

“Is there something we should know?”

Shadow shook her head. “No. It’s just a shorter walk from here.”

The sisters shrugged.

“Fair enough I suppose.”

Sham bolted to the attic and opened the safe. She opened it and returned down with a small bag. “Here are your caps for the journey home.”

Suppose and home did not rhyme. That was a poor performance.

Shadow snatched her bag and gave me a salute. “Ladies. A pleasure as always.”

The twins leaned forward and kissed Shadow on the cheek.

“It’s always sad to see you leave.”

“At least we have Lysandra in reprieve.”

At least they managed to rhyme that time.

Lysandra, who was sitting in the cockpit speaking with Shaim, waved a hoof at Shadow. “Till we meet again.”

“The later the better.” Shadow turned towards me and saluted. “Ciao, Sparkles. Tell Squirt I said bye.”

Shadow dashed out of the carriage and into the Wasteland. Cornelius slinked to my side and sighed. “Always so quick to disappear. So much for loyalty.”

I felt something rub against my back. I spun around and noticed Cornelius’ tail touching me.

“You have a strong frame. An interesting coat. You’re a species I don’t see very often.” He smiled at me. The kind of smile that gave me chills rather than comfort. “I’ll see you again sometime. Take care not to die until then.”

As Cornelius continued to inspect the merchandise, I found myself agreeing with Shadow. The later the better.

Footnote. Level Up. Lucky Strike. You really didn’t do much, but you leveled up anyways. A for effort I guess. Good job! Hits have a % chance of being critical.

Author's Note

Author's Notes:

Hey, everyone! As always, i want to thank Kkat for the original story, other authors for contributing to the 'verse, and for my readers for sticking with this story. I'm releasing this chapter about a week and a half early because, well, why not? I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays and an early Happy New Year. God bless you all!

2.6: Flowers For Orchestra

2.6 Flowers for Orchestra
“I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone.”

Our time in Neighagra had been short. The Caravan had stopped, the sisters performed their routine, and the townsfolk got to shopping. Neighagra was a nice town. The buildings had their wear and tear, but they were still in good condition. The ponies were well dressed in suits and dresses. Most ponies had not appeared to be armed. It was no Haven, but it was nicer than Hospitality. It was much nicer than Boulder Springs.

Packrat told the sisters of her plan to travel to the Crystal Mountains. It was a plan I was still not a fan of, but I had made my decision. Packrat would go whether I accompanied her or not. If I were with her, she would at least have a pony to watch her back for her. She had saved my life at the Fun Store, killed the Carbine-raider before he could harm us, and she had taken me to her home. I felt indebted to her. I also doubted Maud Pie would be willing to lend me her ponies if I returned to her without Packrat.

Since the Caravan was on its way to Manehattan, it made more sense to stay with the Caravan until we absolutely had to get off. It had been a day and a half since we left Neighagra. We could see the Mountains from here. It would be a walk from here, but we could make it.

We needed supplies before we left. Packrat and I followed Lysandra’s lead with the sword. The two of us bargained away a large fraction of our shares to purchase supplies. My grenade necklace had been refitted with ten grenades. Two normal, two magic, two spark, two incendiary, and two flash bangs. This was in addition to the grenades I had found in the Sugar Favor Fun Store.

Packrat tried to barter for the Junk Jet, but Shaim refused to budge. Packrat had pouted, but she relented and purchased an assault rifle. The two of us also bought some canned food and medical supplies. Five healing potions, two healing bandages, two syringes of Med-X, and a bottle of Hydra. I still had a few chems from Doctor Zimri, so we did not need to buy that much. In the end, we still had one hundred twenty-nine caps between the two of us. Thankfully, that did not include Maud’s fee.

Packrat finished packing her bag. “Phew. You all ready to go, Savage?”

Hardly. I doubted I would ever be truly ready to re-enter the Crystal Wasteland. Especially so soon after I had left. Alas, I nodded. The sooner we arrived, the sooner we could leave.

“Okie, dokie, matokie.” Packrat kissed Shim and Sham on the cheeks. “Always a pleasure, ladies.”

“Not as much as it usually is,” Shim muttered.

Packrat chuckled very awkwardly. “Well, you know how it is. Sometimes you’re in the mood, and sometimes you’re not.”

“She says after sleeping with her friend,” Sham scoffed.

“Eh….” Packrat half groaned and half sighed. “You caught me. No hard feelings. Please?”

The mares grinned. Each of them kissed one of Packrat’s cheeks. “We forgive you,” they said simultaneously.

“Huzzah!” Packrat leapt at least four feet off the ground. She grinned at the mares, and she ruffled Shaim’s mane. “See you around, Shaim.” Shaim swatted her away, while not taking her eyes off the road.

Packrat hopped onto the bed next to Lysandra. Lysandra had been sitting on the bed sharpening her sword with a whetting stone. She had not participated in our gathering of supplies. I also noticed she had not bothered to pack her bags. I began to doubt if she would be joining us.

“You ready for some more adventure, Lysandra?”

“No, thank you, Packrat.” Lysandra did not even bother to look up from her sword.

Packrat titled her head to the side. “Huh? Um, but we’re leaving.” She pointed her hoof towards me. “See? We’re all packed up and ready to go.”

“I’m well aware of your plans, Packrat. Let me inform you of mine. I’m staying behind.”

“Wha? Why?”

“Simple.” Lysandra took a break from her sword to look at Packrat with undisguised disdain. “I have no desire to return to Boulder Springs. I have no ties to that community. It was simply a town—ugh, barely even a town—I spent the night in.”

“But what about us?” Packrat gestured to me. “We’re your friends.”

“Friends?” She started laughing. Her laughing gradually evolved into a full cackle. “’Friends,’ she says. Oh, Packrat, I am genuinely going to miss you.” Lysandra inspected her sword and nodded. She cast aside a whetting stone in favor of a handkerchief, which she used to polish the blade. “But not too much. I do intend to meet you again someday, after all.”

“Oh, well, okay then!” Packrat extended her hoof. “Until we meet again.”

Lysandra chuckled mildly and shook her hoof. “Yes. Until we meet again.” Her eyes turned towards me. The hostility Packrat had been obvious too was mostly gone. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me, Savage? I might get lonely in Manehattan. A mare like me may need some protection from the vultures who live there.”

I nodded without hesitation and moved to stand beside Packrat. I had already made my decision to stick by her. Besides, being with Lysandra was not a better alternative. Not when she could callously murder foals. I had no idea what she was planning, but I knew I wanted no part of it. Packrat may have saved her once, but Lysandra did not strike me as a mare who needed protection.

“Very well then.” Lysandra slinked off the bed and sauntered towards me. I backed away from her. She chuckled and outstretched her hoof. I looked away, but I did touch hooves with her. Then I noticed her smirk. My blood chilled at that smirk. “No need to be so formal with me, Savage.” She wrapped her hoof around mine and yanked. I stumbled forward into a deep, tongue-filled kiss. Lysandra slowly pulled away and ran her tongue against my lips. She pressed her body close to mine and whispered into my ear. “Until we meet again.” She retreated onto the bed and smiled. Her smile was even worse than her smirk.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Shaim turned her head. “Attention, all. We have arrived in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on our way to Manehattan. All those who wish to get off, leave now or forever hold your peace.”

Packrat gave the mares one last salute before hopping out the door. I nodded to Shim, Sham, and Shaim, but I purposefully ignored Lysandra. I would rather ignore her cold-blooded looks if I could avoid them. My hooves touched barren ground.

Packrat was busy staring at her PipBuck. “It looks like we’re headed in the….” She slowly spun around until she pointed forward. “That way direction.” She lowered her leg and began marching.

I followed her and began my return trip home.

***

We had gotten much closer to the mountains with limited excitement. We had stopped to eat roughly half an hour ago. Currently, I was waiting on Packrat to conduct some private business. It seemed canned cabbage did not suit her stomach very well. I considered reading a few more pages of Daring Do, but I decided against it. The last thing I wanted was to be sucked into a story when I only had a few minutes to read it. I felt it best to save the story until I had enough time to properly enjoy it.

Bang. Bang. That came from where Packrat was supposed to be. I broke into a full gallop after her. I readied my battle saddle and prepared to fire my guns. There was no need. Packrat was wielding her assault rifle with her magic. Her weapon was not pointing at a pony or another animal. It was aimed at a plant. The gun clattered to the ground. “Phew. Glad Savage didn’t see that. That would have been embaras—” Her eyes widened when she looked at me. “Savage! Um, hey. Wha…-what’re you doing here?”

I pointed towards her gun.

“Oh, you heard the shots. Well, nothing to see here. No raiders, slavers, hellhounds or anything threatening. Just got spooked is all.”

By a plant? I approached the plant. It was a small fern bush. Its color was closer to brown than it was to green. I gently poked it. It swayed slightly at my touch. Aside from being slightly tickled, I had no other reaction to it. Truly terrifying.

“Hey, Savage?”

I turned towards her. Packrat had her head down. She was gently kicking at the dirt with her hoof. "Um, thanks.”

Hmm? What for? I raised my eyebrow.

“For sticking with me. You could have stayed with the Caravan. You would have made more caps. You could have found another place to settle. Lysandra would have been with you.”

I scoffed at the concept of Lysandra being enticing. Even though she was.

“But you decided you’d rather travel with me to help a pony we don’t even know. That means a lot to me.” The smile on Packrat’s face was smaller than usual. It was not quite sad, though. If anything, it made her smile feel more genuine. As if she was not putting up a front of happiness. It briefly reminded me of the filly from Hospitality.

I responded by patting her head again. Her smile grew wider, as her cheeks turned redder. “Hey, um, Savage. Can I ask you a question?”

Technically she already did. I removed my hoof from her head and bent down, so we could look each other in the eye. Yes, Packrat?

Her cheeks puffed out, and she turned her head away. She groaned. “Never mind.” Before I could try and coax the question out of her, she ran ahead of me. That was certainly strange.

I quickened my pace to catch up to her. She was not too far away. I could see her, and I did not see any potential threats in the surrounding area. But I did not want to be ambushed from behind with nopony to help me. The further away we were from each other, the more dangerous it would be. No matter which Wasteland we occupied.

“Savage!”

I ran towards the sound of her voice. She did not sound pained, but she was in shock. Possibly frightened. I hoped she was not under attack. I began to slow down once I saw her. I only saw one other pony near her. A light grey mare was lying on her side. Her frilly pink dress had been torn with bullet holes. She was bleeding from a series of wounds on her side and belly.

Packrat was standing by the mare’s side. There was an empty syringe on the ground. I assumed Packrat had given her some Med-X. I wondered why she had not used any healing potions. Packrat gently rubbed the mare’s side. “What’s your name?”

“P…-P…-Pas…-Pash…-Passion.”

“Passion. That’s a really pretty name.” Packrat turned her head. She nodded when she was me. “Savage, this is Passion.”

I smiled as I approached the two of them. Now I understood why Packrat had not used a healing potion. It would have been a waste. Passion had more wounds than I had initially noticed. A healing potion would not have saved her. But at least we could ease her suffering.

“Where are you from, Passion?”

“I used to wo….” Passion paused and started to cough. She hacked up some blood, and Packrat held her as she coughed. “I used to work with Mr. Fairchild. Then I was bought by Mr. Templar.”

Did I hear that right? I could have sworn she said she was “bought.” I could tell Packrat heard it too. I noticed her body tense up. “Passion, where does Mr. Templar live?”

“Fai…-Failed Wish.”

“Failed Wish.” Packrat repeated the words a few more times. She offered Passion a smile. “I’ll let them know we found you, Passion.”

“Thank you, Ms. Packrat. You a—” She coughed again. There was so much blood. Her eyes fluttered while she coughed. Her eyelids gradually closed, and her coughing grew weaker. Packrat held her tightly. “Thank you, Ms. Packrat….”

Packrat gently lowered Passion’s limp body to the ground. She took the claw from Lysandra’s hellhound from her bag and started clawing at the ground with it. I tried my best to help her. Though I could admit I was not much help. A shovel would have been far more useful than I was. I scraped my hooves against the earth. I was lucky there were no shards of broken glass down here.

Eventually there was a hole large enough for the body. Packrat gently laid Passion into the hole. She used her levitation to move the large clumps of dirt. The last part of Passion to be covered was her eyes. Then, she was gone forever. Packrat closed her eyes and lowered her head. I lowered my head as well.

The two of us had a moment of silence.

“She was a slave, Savage.” Packrat’s eyes were open, and they stared at the grave. I saw determination in those eyes. It was the same look she had given Lurker before she killed him. “She got her first taste of freedom, and then they killed her.” She put the hellhound claw back into her bag and slowly walked away.

I started to follow her. I did not get far. Pain shot up my back leg. My leg crumpled, and I collapsed onto my side. One of my legs had been struck with a shotgun shell. My barding had been practically useless. My hoof was a mangled mess of flesh, blood and bone. I wanted to stand, but the pain was far too great. Even if I could stand, there was no way I could walk with my hoof like that. I knew coming here was a bad idea.

“Do you trust me?” Packrat was standing beside me. Concern had been mixed into her determination filled stare. I knew I trusted her, but I hated that she had to ask that question. I instantly knew I was going to hate whatever she was planning. I bit my lip and nodded.

“Okay.” She pressed Opus against my—NO!

I was blinded by my pain. All I could see was the color red. What the fuck was she thinking?! I was so angry I barely felt the liquid going down my throat. All of a sudden, I felt better. Stronger. Packrat helped me to my hooves. My sight gradually returned. The first thing I saw was my severed hoof twitching on the ground. The second was the fully healed hoof attached to my leg.

Packrat slipped a bottle into her bag. “Hydra. Never leave the Caravan without it.”

No kidding. I nodded my thanks and readied Savage and Memento. I may have been healed, but we were far from being safe. I heard a sound behind me, almost as if something was growling. I spun around and watched as a dog leapt towards Packrat. I pushed her out of the way and fired Memento. The bullet pierced the dog’s paw. My shot changed the dog’s trajectory. It landed on its side and skidded towards me. I grabbed the hellhound tooth and punctured the dog’s eye.

I should have felt relieved since I had removed a threat. Not happy necessarily but relieved. I only felt more afraid. Whomever had shot me was still out there watching me. And I had one less bullet.

Bang.

Packrat screamed as a chunk of her shoulder exploded. She fell to the ground, and her scream grew louder. I scrambled to find a Med-X syringe in my bag. There! I stuck the syringe into her shoulder. Her body relaxed. Okay, Packrat was stable. She would not be for long if she stayed here. I needed to find us some cover. I picked her up and draped her over my back.

Then, I ran as fast as my hooves would carry me. Unfortunately, it was not fast at all. I zig-zagged as I ran. The shots continued. The first missed badly. The second tore a chunk out of my left ear. It burned, but I channeled my pain as motivation to move faster.

“Turn right.”

I did without second thought. Packrat was the one with the map. I could only hope she knew where she was going. Her direction led us into a ravine. The ground beneath my hooves was muddy. I assumed there had been snow here that melted not too long ago. I was thankful for that. I hated mud, but I would rather run through this than thick snow.

Another shot flew by. This one nipped me in the rump. Ow! Of all the places to shoot a pony. That was just rude. My barding absorbed most of the impact that time, which meant I was gaining some distance. Thank goodness.

“Left.”

I sharply veered left. The ravine grew more claustrophobic here. I still had plenty of room in-between the walls of the mountain, but it was noticeably less than I had a second ago. I really hoped Packrat knew where she was leading us.

I felt something graze my side. The problem was it came from in front of me rather than behind me. We had been led into an ambush. Fantastic.

“Duck!”

I lowered my head. Bang. The sound echoed in my ears. By Cadance was that loud. I was almost glad my ear had been torn because the sound was not as loud as it could have been. What had she been shooting at? I received my answer when a dead body dropped from the sky. The body was small but not terribly so. The body’s general structure was similar to that of a pony with some notable differences. The antennae, extra legs and large wings. But none were as frightening as the fangs dripping with poison.

We were not running into an ambush. Our attackers had led us into a vulpa nest.

Packrat took two weapons from my bag: the rifle originally attached to the battle saddle and the 10mm pistol. They levitated in front of me along with the assault rifle she had purchased from the Caravan. “I’m going to borrow these.”

Please do.

Packrat fired away. The vulpas kept coming. Dead bodies rained from the sky. I tried not to focus on the carnage happening above me. My eyes were kept on the ravine in case I found somewhere to take refuge. Then I heard her scream. I turned my head to see how she was doing. Her barding was taking a beating. Patches were being torn away. It was only now that I noticed that vulpas had claws rather than hooves. There were claw marks on her cheeks and her ears, while her lip was swollen from bites.

Not that I was doing much better. Vulpas had landed on my back and were tearing away at my barding. Some of them had gone for my exposed neck. My new hoof was not adequately covered, and it was being bitten and torn by fangs and claws.

I could feel the venom working in my body. My surroundings were beginning to waver. I could still run in a straight line, but I needed anti-venom. Packrat needed it more. And both of us needed safety. Which was why I hoped the warehouse I was seeing in the distance was not a mirage.

“Come on, Symphony. You can make it. You’ve been through worse than this.”

That voice. It was so familiar, but….

“Well, I mean. This might be more dangerous, but I’d say living with your sister was a lot worse than being chased by vulpas. Though they are equally poisonous.”

No. I shook my head. That voice was not real. She was not talking to me. She wasn’t!

Then I saw her galloping beside me. Only she was galloping backwards. Of course she was. That way I could see her face. I could see her glorious sun-like eyes. She was grinning. “You look like you haven’t seen me in weeks. Did you really miss me that much?” She moved closer to me. I could almost feel her. She seemed so real. “I’ll be waiting in the warehouse.”

And then she was gone. It was just me, the vulpas, and Packrat. I looked behind me to see how Packrat was doing. She continued to fight, but she was slowing down. She fired two shots from the 10mm pistol and whipped a vulpa that came to close to her. The rifle was swung around like a baton, while the assault rifle fired off randomly. If she continued to exert herself, she would end up like Sombra. I had some anti-venom left, curtesy of Doctor Zimri. But I had to get her to the warehouse.

I had a plan. First, I stopped running. The whiplash knocked some of the vulpa off of Packrat and me. I had enough momentum that my body started to skid. While I was skidding, I removed a green-band grenade from my necklace. I kicked it forward. The grenade was enveloped in a green light and levitated into the sky towards the highest concentration of vulpas.

The grenade burst into a massive green wave. Any vulpa that touched the wave was vaporized. The vulpas’ ashes fell to the ground like grey snowflakes. But there were still plenty of vulpa that had not been turned to a heap of ash.

The skidding had kept my body moving away from the oncoming vulpa, and my body had kept enough acceleration that I was able to run at a decent pace.

“Keep…-going…-s….”

Packrat was starting to fade. She was barely holding herself up. Come on, Packrat, just a little longer. Of course I had no idea if that were true. The warehouse could have been a result of the venom. Even then, it may not have been much safer. But I had to keep my spirits up. Even if my sanity was wavering.

“You’re almost there, Symphony. Come on, don’t make me wait much longer. I know it’s rude to come before the mare, but you’re being a bit too courteous.”

I ignored the voice and kept running. I was almost there. Just a few more steps….

The door swung open, and I saw her waiting for me in the doorway. Her mint-green coat was untarnished. Her horn was completely reattached. And her smile was as beautiful as I had ever seen it.

“Oh. Shit.”

Hmmm?

I collapsed onto my side, and Packrat rolled off of me. The weapons she had been using clattered to her sides. The mare I had seen when the door opened had disappeared. In her place was a mauve Nocti with a dark blue mane and bright amber eyes. Or perhaps not. Who knew what I was actually seeing at the moment.

The Nocti jammed a needle into Packrat’s side. She trotted towards me with a second needle. “Now I have to rescue my rescuers. Just my luck. I’m never gonna get out of this shithole.” She jammed the second needle into me before I could protest. “Hopefully I don’t get killed before these two wake up.”

***

I was in a meadow. A very bright meadow with grass and flowers as far as the eye could see.

“I’m clearly dreaming.” I chuckled when I heard my voice. “Yeah. Clearly dreaming.”

“And you used a contraction? That almost sounds like a nightmare for you.” Lyra had appeared beside me with two cups of tea. “Want one?”

“Thank you.” I took a sip. It was completely and utterly bland. I scowled and set the cup down. “You don’t make a very good cup.”

She shrugged. “Blame your subconscious. It’s not my fault you don’t know what it should taste like.”

I sighed. “How long until I see you burst into flames or something to that effect?”

She shook her head. “This isn’t that kind of dream, Symph.” She rested her head on my shoulder and nuzzled me. “For once your mind is letting you be happy.”

I was about to say something when Lyra slapped me. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Because I know what you were about to say, and I don’t want you to say it. It’s not like you to be angsty.”

I sighed. “I know. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.” She gently kissed my scar.

Wait a moment, How did I still have my scar if I could talk? This dream made no sense. She flicked my forehead with her hoof. Ow. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Because you insist on ruining the moment. It’s a dream. It’s not supposed to be realistic. A realistic dream would have me in pieces. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to save Carbine.”

“No. Try again.”

I winced as if I had been struck. “Yes, I do.”

Lyra scoffed. “Of course you do. You want to see him safe. But that’s not what you really want. Try again.”

“I want you.”

She shook her head. “Wrong again. If that were true we wouldn’t be having this discussion. You’d be plowing me until I was raw.” She sighed and looked me in the eye. “What do you want, Symphony?”

I shook my head. “I….”

She stepped forward and stared into my eyes. “You what, Symphony?”

“I DON’T KNOW, LYRA!” A cold wind blew through the meadow. “I don’t know. I have no idea what I want. I used to want to make my sister happy. Then I discovered the Goddess, and I wanted to be a good Cadanite. Then I met you, and I wanted to start a life with you. And one by one the things I wanted were taken away from me. I don’t know if there is anything I want any more except to survive.” I let out a long breath and fell onto the grass. “Why are we talking about this?”

Lyra lay down beside me and smiled sadly. “Because I’m your subconscious right now, Symph. We’re supposed to talk when you dream.”

“Does that make it weird if I still want to plow you?”

Lyra lightly pushed me. “Oh, shut up.”

The two of us laughed. I had not realized how much I missed laughing. I hated that disgusting noise I made instead. I hated that I could not sing. No. I hated that I couldn’t sing. Not using contractions in my thoughts was pointless. Every word was beautiful, but if I couldn’t actually hear them then what was the point? Symphony was a pony who had to put on airs because he wanted to impress the ponies around him. Savage was a pony who did what he wanted. I’d said it already. What I wanted to do was survive. And that would be exactly what I did when I woke up.

Until then, I had a mare to enjoy….

***

I opened my eyes and stood up. My vision was nowhere near as woozy as it was when I was knocked out. It also wasn’t as bad as it was at Camp Terminus. I must have received a lot more anti-venom now than I did then. Thank you, mysterious Nocti.

I saw her standing away from me. My initial assessment of her body had been correct, though I had missed a few points. She was wearing midnight blue barding. Parts of it had been badly patched together. One such area was her flank. There were three letters on her flank, and each letter appeared to have been taken from a separate piece of barding: N. C. R.

In addition to her armor, there were also weapons. A spiked ball was attached to the end of her tail. She wore a necklace with a small knife at the end. Similar to Shadow, there was a shotgun strapped to her back.
She was pacing in a circle. “Great. Just great. There are still breezadores outside. The raiders might still be there too. And I have a lot less anti-venom than I did before. There’s more guns, and more targets for them, but my chances still aren’t great. And I still haven’t completed my mission. Ugh!” She turned towards me. “Hi. I’m Mirage.”

I wouldn’t exactly call her tone friendly. It was raspy and vaguely annoyed. I lifted my hoof in greeting.

“Question. Are those raiders still alive?”

I nodded.

Mirage grimaced and slapped her face with her hoof. “Figures.” She unfurled her wings and titled her head towards the second floor. “Your friend is up there if you want to see her.” She flapped her wings and landed on one of the support beams. She raced across the beam and stood behind a pole. It was almost as if she were taking cover.

I started running to the top of the stairs. Okay, it seemed I was still on the woozy side, but I made it to the top without crashing or throwing up. Packrat had been laid on a mattress. There was a concrete barrier to her left, and a series of crates surrounded her. She was also surrounded by a cache of weapons. Opus, the assault rifle, hunting rifle and 10mm were there. In addition, there were claws which looked like they could be attached to a pony’s hooves. There was a long rifle that dwarfed Memento with an unusual design. Another weapon was also large and bulky and was multi-barreled. I touched it with my hoof. What in Equestria was this thing?

“Minigun.” I looked up at Mirage. She pointed one of her wings at the large gun. “That’s a minigun. Belonged to a former squad mate.” Her ears angled towards the door and twitched. “Ah, shit.” She tore her eyes away and cocked her shotgun. “I’d advise you to either get down or get ready.”

Knock. Knock. “Hello? Is anypony in there?” Knock. Knock. “Is anypony still alive in there?”

Packrat stirred beside me, but her eyes remained closed. She was muttering something, but I didn’t focus on it. I took Mirage’s advice. I readied Savage and Memento.

The door flew open and five people entered. The first two were earth ponies. The male earth pony held a spike in his mouth, while the mare wielded a shotgun. A light grey dog walked in after them. Blood seeped from an open cut near its eye. The stallion stopped moving, and the dog bumped into him. The two growled at each other. The stallion went a step further and aimed a thrust of his spike. Another pony had intervened. A crystal stallion had entered behind the dog. He stepped in-between the two of them. He swatted the spike away with a hoof and shook his head. “We don’t have to be monsters towards each other.”

“No, but there’s no harm in it.” The rear was brought up by a midnight-black and blue unicorn. A battle saddle with twin machine guns adorned her back. Her piercing dark blue eyes were almost impossible to look away from, but I hated looking at them. The malice in those eyes was magnetic. She kicked the dog’s legs out from under it and stomped on its tail. The dog yelped, and the malicious mare laughed. “No harm to us, that is.” She titled her head. “Find them. Burn this place to the ground if you have to.” She turned around and began to walk out the door.

I fired a bullet aimed at her head, hoping to make her number thirteen. Savage’s bullet struck the doorframe instead of her head. Uh-oh.

A smirk slowly formed on her lips. “Found you.” She pivoted and opened fire. The crates were being blasted to pieces. The concrete was holding, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. While her fire was pinning me down, one of the others could come up the stairs and corner me. That would also put Packrat in danger. I needed to take one of them out. I needed a distraction. Or a Mirage.

Mirage emerged from her hiding place on the support beams. She balanced her shotgun in-between her front hooves and pulled the trigger with her tongue. She struck Midnight in the shoulder, causing the mare to fall over. Her fire let up, which gave me the opportunity to run. I ran out from behind my cover and just barely avoided a shotgun blast to the face. Unfortunately, it did hit me in the chest.

I recoiled, and my head hit the wall. I retained enough sense to lower my head in case of further oncoming fire. I crawled towards the top of the stairs. The stallion with the spike was already halfway up. It seemed I had been right about the possibility of them trying to corner me.

He charged towards me once he noticed me. I bit down and fired a shot from Memento. My shot went wide right and completely missed him. I fired a second shot. It was closer, but it still missed the mark. I did not have time to fire a third.

He thrust the spike at my neck. I rolled away from his attack. The spike struck the wall and became stuck. The stallion grunted as he tried to remove the spike from the wall. This was my chance. I fired again. Click. What? Click. Click. Click. Okay. Savage then. Click. Damnit! Packrat still had the other rifle and the 10mm on her. The only other weapons I had were the hellhound tooth and the grenades. The tooth would work, but I had a significant disadvantage against a weapon as big as the spike. The grenades were also dangerous because I would likely be caught in the blast. I had very few options.

And even less time. He yanked the spike from the wall. He twisted his head so the spike was aimed towards me. Before he could lunge, Mirage flew by and bucked his shoulder with her back legs. His body buckled, just in time for the spiked-ball to collide with his head. The stallion’s head was crushed in-between the ball and the wall.

“Oh, fuck!” The mare with the shotgun fired another round. It missed Mirage entirely. Ironically, it hit the stallion’s already destroyed head.

Mirage doubled back and rolled into the cover near Packrat. She quickly retrieved the hoof claws and put them on. “Okay, buddy, here’s the plan. I’m going to swoop down there and give ‘em hell. You cover me. Good?”

I nodded.

“Good.” Mirage used her wing to wipe sweat off of her brow and face. She took a few shallow breaths and held her shotgun close to her. “Please. Let me survive this.” She kissed the barrel of her gun and took off.

Machine gun fire sprayed towards her. Mirage’s barding took a few bullets, but she was able to avoid most of them with well-timed rolls and dives. “I could use some cover here!”

Right. I grabbed the long rifle and stared down the sights. The mare with the shotgun was taking up aim. I fired a shot at her head. I hit her shotgun instead. Her head jerked violently, and her shot went off. She struck the center of Mirage’s tail-ball. The impact knocked Mirage off course.

The dog took advantage. It started running and leapt into the air. It grabbed the edge of Mirage’s wing and yanked her onto the ground. Mirage fired her shotgun twice, but neither of her shots hit the dog. In truth, they didn’t hit much of anything besides the ground. She wrestled with the dog. Her hoof claws scratched at its belly, while the dog kept snapping at her throat.
The mare with the shotgun was aiming her weapon back and forth. “Damnit. I can’t get a good shot from here.”

Midnight scoffed. “Don’t aim, you idiot. Just fire.” She managed a few more rounds before her guns were empty. Two rounds hit her dog’s tail. One round nipped the edge of Mirage’s wing. The other two hit the wall.

Since she was out of ammo, the other mare was the bigger threat. Unfortunately, she shot at me before I could shoot her. The concrete barrier took the brunt of her shot, but my hoof took some damage. It stung more than anything else, but it was enough to cause me to drop the rifle.

It toppled to the ground and out of reach.

Okay, plan B. I ducked behind the cover and grabbed the minigun. I stood up and aimed it at the mare with the shotgun. I fired and quickly realized how powerful it was. It fired an extraordinary number of bullets, and I could barely keep it under control. I could only imagine what Carbine would say. Motherfucker, this thing has a kick to it! I managed to keep ahold of it and fired upon the mare.

Thirteen.

The mare’s body was torn to shreds by the barrage of bullets. Before I could turn the minigun on Midnight, she bolted behind steel crates. The crystal pony had disappeared as soon as the shooting started. The best option would be to keep the high ground and to cover Mirage with the old rifle from the battle saddle. She was still wrestling with the dog. Her legs were badly scratched, and her right ear was being torn by its fangs. Meanwhile, the dog’s nose had been split, and it was bleeding from its eye.

I grabbed the hellhound tooth and rushed down the stairs. I could cover her just as effectively by killing the mutt. The dog was facing Mirage, so it didn’t see me approach. It swiped at her head, but Mirage ducked out of the way. She swung her tail, and the ball hit the dog in the head. Rather than sticking, it simply knocked the dog backwards. The dog reared back and prepared to pounce.

That was when I rammed my shoulder into it. The dog fell onto its side. I stepped on its throat to pin it to the ground. Then I rammed the hellhound tooth into its eye. Despite that, it still struggled beneath me. I felt its claws rake into my legs, but my barding absorbed most of the impact. At least, the parts that hadn’t been eroded by the vulpas. This mutt was a tough one. But its body gradually gave in and went limp.

Okay, status report. They had lost two ponies and a dog. Packrat was still recovering. Mirage was injured, but she would survive. I had suffered minor wounds. Since the crystal pony was missing in action, all that left wa—

Bang.

A bullet slipped through an opening in my barding. It struck me in the side. I managed to keep my balance, despite the pain surging through me.

“Oh, shit!” Mirage rolled away and took refuge in the shadows.

Midnight’s head was peeking out of her cover. She was carrying a large pistol in her mouth. She fired again, and the hellhound tooth was knocked out of my mouth. She slowly approached until she was only a few hoofsteps away from me.

I was in too much pain to run. My weapon had been removed from me, and the weapons on my battle saddle were out of ammo or too jammed to use. I was too close to her for a grenade to be useful. My only play was to hope Mirage would save me. If not, I may have been a goner. Midnight said nothing. She only smirked and slowly aimed her pistol at me.

“Moonscape!”

All eyes were fixed on the small green mare on the second floor. Opus levitated beside her. “S.A.T.S. says I have a fifty-four percent chance to hit your head from here.”

Moonscape cocked her pistol. “And I have a ninety-seven percent chance of killing your sparkling friend. You’re not playing the odds, Packrat.”

“This isn’t you, Moon. Please.” Packrat was fighting back tears. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

“I’m not making you do anything, Rat.” Her eyes hardened, and her glare cut like broken glass. “Nopony made you abandon me and Sunshine.”

“I ne—”

Bang.

Moonscape shot me in the face! The bullet grazed my cheek. My flesh burned from the metal, and hot blood trickled down my cheek. My body was moving in slow motion. I staggered backwards and touched my wound with a hoof. She fired a second time and struck my shoulder. I silently screamed, as I fell to the ground.

“Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Mirage slid towards me and fired her shotgun at Moonscape. The shot completely missed. She pulled the trigger again to no avail. “And I’m out. Great.”

“It certainly is great.” Moonscape cocked her pistol. “It makes this so much easier.”

Bang.

Moonscape flinched, but she quickly regained her composure. She cast her eyes towards her hoof. A grenade slug had cracked her PipBuck’s screen, and the display was finicky. “You missed, Rat.”

“No I didn’t.”

Moonscape shook her head. She pointed her gun at Mirage and I. She didn’t fire. Her smirk slowly faded into a confused scowl.

“It’s not working is it?” Moonscape turned towards Packrat. “S.A.T.S. Your numbers are showing up, but they keep changing. And it won’t let you fire.” She started walking towards the stairs. Each step was slow. I imagined she was still reeling from the venom. I hoped she wasn’t in too much pain. “If it wasn’t for Toothpick, mine would still be busted.”

Moonscape gritted her teeth and marched towards the steps. “So what? Even if I don’t have my targeting system, I still have my gun. I can kill you right now.”

“No you can’t.” Moonscape winced at the certainty in Packrat’s tone. I could admit to being impressed with her as well. “You were always a shit shot.”

“Fuck you, Packrat.” Moonscape fired three shots. Each badly missed the mark.

“I told you. Shit shot.”

Moonscape tossed her pistol aside. “Fine. I don’t need that anyway. I didn’t need it to finish off Sunshine.”

Now it was Packrat who winced. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” She made her way onto the staircase. “After we got captured, the raiders made us fight to the death. They tossed us weapons. Broken bottles. Knives. Pool cues. And I grabbed this.” Moonscape produced a rusty knife. “I gutted that coward while they watched. And cheered me on. And then I stuck it through their leader’s throat. I made them respect me. I made them fear me!” Moonscape was crying now. Her voice was straining, and it grew raspier with each word she spoke. “And now. Now! I’m going to kill you the same way I killed Sunshine. I’m going to gut you while your friends watch. And there’s nothing you can do about it, Rat! Nothing!”

Moonscape lunged, and Opus was pressed against her temple. “Don’t make me shoot you, Moon.”

Moonscape lunged once more. Bang. Her body fell to the ground and rolled down the stairs. Packrat didn’t move. I couldn’t hear a sound coming from her. No words, weeping or even breathing. She just stood there covered in her friend. Packrat….

“Well, it seems that we lost.” I heard something fall to the ground. A large knife and an oddly shaped pistol slid across the floor. The crystal pony slowly walked out of a shadowy corner of the warehouse. He stood in front of Mirage and me and dipped his head. “I humbly surrender to you and your friend.”

“Phew. Glad to hear that.” Packrat turned towards us. The first thing I noticed were the tears cascading down her face. The second was the incredibly large and fake smile on her face. “I thought I might have been a goner for a while there.”

Packrat?

She opened her eyes and cantered down the stairs. “Really glad that’s over.” She walked around Moonscape’s body without looking down. I noticed she didn’t search the body either. “Now we can make new friends.” She slipped Opus into her saddlebag and approached the other crystal pony. “Hi. I’m Packrat.”

He stared at her incredulously and touched his hoof to hers. “Lamentation.”

“Nice to meet you, Lamentation. Do you want to join our group?”

“What?!” Mirage hopped to her hooves and stormed towards them. “He’s one of them. They shot at you when you guys were coming here. They've shot at me!” She looked in the direction of her weapons cache. “He helped kill my friends.”

“May I speak in my defense?” Packrat nodded, while Mirage huffed. Lamentation nodded. “Very well. I have been a traveler for many years. I joined with a group of ponies who were too uncouth for my liking. However, they granted me protection so long as I killed for them. It was an offer I could hardly refuse. Shooting at you all was never personal. Now that the other ponies are dead, I bear you no ill will.” He lay on his belly and bowed before Packrat. “I am not blameless. Should you so desire, I will accept my execution. But I pray you find it in your heart to have mercy on this old stallion.”

“I say we shoot him.” Mirage snatched her shotgun with her tail and brought it into her hooves.

“Your gun is still empty.”

“Hmm?” Mirage titled her head and pulled the trigger. Click. “Damnit.”

“Besides. I wasn’t asking you.” Lamentation focused on Packrat.

Packrat didn’t meet his gaze. She cast her eyes my way. “What do you think, Savage?”

Given the pain in my side, my shoulder, and the burning sensation in my face, I wanted a pain killer more than anything else. My only response was to grimace.

Packrat smiled at my silence. I didn’t appreciate her smiling at my expense, but it was nice to see the spark returning to her face. Even her tears were starting to dry up. “Sorry. Mirage, would you mind fixing him up?”

Mirage huffed again. “Hey, Mirage, mind using all your medical supplies to help us out? Sure, no problem! I mean, it’s not like I’m going to need them when I go after the Legendary Breezadore.”

“The what now?”

Mirage groaned. She fumbled through her stash of supplies. “Me and my patrol were given a mission.” She retrieved a healing potion and a bandage. “We’re supposed to find the breezadore hive. Or the vulpas as the locals call it.” She pressed the bandage against my side, and she force fed me the potion. “Our job is to kill the big one. One less threat in Northern Equestria.”

Lamentation stood up. “You’re from the NCR, aren’t you?”

Mirage snorted. “And what if I am?”

Lamentation smirked. “It means their standards are even lower than I thought.”

Mirage raised one of her claws. “Want to run that by me again?”

Lamentation ran his eyes up and down Mirage. He grunted and turned towards me. “I know where the hive is. I can take you there if you want to help the flying rat.”

I ignored Mirage’s hysteria and nodded to Packrat.

Packrat returned the nod. “One last thing. Do you know where Failed Wish is?”

“Failed Wish? That slaver town by Manehattan?”

“Do you know how to get there?”

Lamentation shrugged. “I have an idea of how to get there. It’s not my usual territory, but I could find it.”

Packrat tapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the group, Lamentation!”

Mirage crossed her front hooves and muttered something to herself.

Lamentation smirked. “What was that?”

“I said fine. You can come with us. But I don’t like it, and I don’t have to like it.” She stashed away her shotgun. She gulped down a healing potion. Her small wounds began to heal. She inspected her wing. She moved it up and down with her hoof. She grunted and flew up towards the second floor. “Anypony want the minigun?” Lamentation raised his hoof. “Anypony but the raider?”

“I’ll take it!” Packrat bounded up the stairs. I heard her gasp. “Oh, yeah. I’m taking that for sure.”

Lamentation rolled his eyes. He nudged me and cocked his head towards the second floor. “That mare of yours is an odd one.”

I shook my head. Packrat and I were friends, but she was not my mare. I preferred to keep our relationship as a strict friendship.

“Savage, can you do me a favor and carry the minigun for me? Pleeeeeeease?”

I sighed. Fine. I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I said no. The sooner I accepted, the sooner we could move on.

***

“We’re here.”

Were we? Lamentation had led us to an inn in the middle of nowhere. The building was surprisingly nice. The word “Inn” was not faded. There was no graffiti in sight. Or severed heads.

Mirage pointed towards the inn with her wing. “He’s in there?” Her voice dripped with distrust.

Lamentation blinked. “Yes. The Legendary Breezadore is in a well-maintained inn.”

Mirage’s brow creased, as she scowled. “I don’t like your sarcasm.”

“I don’t like your species.”

“What?!”

Mirage lunged towards him with her hoof claws extended. I rushed behind her and held her back before she could cut into his face. She struggled in my grasp, but I was able to hold her in place. Lamentation nonchalantly stepped away from us and towards Packrat. “Our destination isn’t far from here. I thought it would be smart to rest the night before assaulting the hive.”

Packrat nodded. “Rest sound—” She was interrupted by a long yawn. “—s good.”

Once Mirage finally relaxed, I let her go. She slithered away from me and flashed a glare my way. She also stuck her tongue out. Mirage: the paragon of maturity. Using techniques befitting of Missile.

Packrat touched her hoof to the door and opened it. She walked inside. Lamentation followed, while Mirage and I brought up the rear. The first thing I saw was a pony getting bucked in the mouth. His tooth was knocked loose and flew into another pony’s drink. Which they promptly downed. Ugh, ew.

The second thing I noticed was the group of ponies. They were gathered in a circle. Inside the circle was a stallion, with impressive facial hair, hoof wrestling a lime-green mare. The stallion’s muscles were straining, while the mare was casually drinking a large glass of alcohol. She almost finished her drink, but she stopped with a skosh left in the glass. She then slammed his hoof onto the table.

The stallion held his face in his hooves, and he slunk away. The mare stood up and raised her hooves in victory. Ponies booed and whistled in equal measure. Some threw money at the table. A couple more lit cigarettes. Most had another drink.

“Anypony else think they can take me?” Her eyes fell upon me. “How ‘bout you, handsome?”

I shook my head.

Mirage scoffed. “Coward. I’ll take you on.” She trotted to the empty seat formerly held by the stallion. She stretched her front hooves until they were a sharp crack. “What’re the stakes?”

The mare looked Mirage up and down. “If you manage to beat me, you and your friends get free board and drinks for the night. If you last until I finish my glass.” She paused and her glass was filled up. “You get free board. No drinks.”

“If I lose?”

“When you lose. If it’s before I finish my drink, I get to fuck your handsome friend.”

Hey!

Lamentation stopped me from confronting the mares. “Have a little faith in her. Besides.” He was admiring the other mare. “I’d hardly call her winning a loss.”

That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t being used as a bargaining chip.

“Go!”

It seemed I was too late. The game was afoot. Mirage and the other mare locked hooves. Mirage’s hoof was flexing, but the other mare didn’t budge. “Oh, shit.” Mirage relaxed her hoof.

The mare grinned. “Giving up already?”

Mirage clicked her tongue. She grinned right back and showed off her fangs. “I’ve just decided to play defense instead.”

“We’ll see if it works.” The mare started to chug her glass. She paused when there was barely any left. That was when she made her move. She jerked her hoof, and Mirage’s hoof almost hit the table.

The batpony gritted her teeth and kept her hoof in the air but only just. The mare’s expression was casual, while Mirage was sweating. I could see a vein bulge in her hoof and her head. Guttural sounds were coming from her mouth, as she fought to keep her hoof from touching the table.

“You’re tough,” the mare mused.

Mirage cracked a grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The mare finished her glass and slammed Mirage’s hoof down. “Congratulations. Free board for you and your friends.” She clopped her hooves together. Two large stallions flanked me and the others. “These handsome gents will you escort you to your room.”

“Room, singular?” Mirage gagged and pointed towards Lamentation. “I’m not sharing a room with that one.”

Lamentation’s lips twitched into a tiny smile. “Funny. I was going to say that about you.”

The mare shrugged. “One room should fit two of you comfortably. I'll give you two rooms to share as you see fit.” She waved Mirage off, and the Nocti rejoined us. “Now, does anypony else want to challenge me?”

The stallions escorted us up a small, curving, flight of stairs. As I walked up the stairs, I watched as a yellow mare shouldered her way through the crowd. She sat down on the chair and ripped off one of her boots. She placed her hoof on the table. I didn’t need to see her eyes to know the steel-like stare they were giving the innkeeper.

The innkeeper smiled. “You seem confident. I like that. I’ll make the stakes more fun. You don’t get a glass. You just have to beat me. And when you don’t—”

“You mean when I do.”

The smile became a full-fledged smirk. “When you don’t, I get your knife.”

“And when I win?’

“Assuming the impossible, you get a free night, free drinks, and five hundred caps or bits. Your choice.”

“Deal.”

Lamentation noticed that I had stopped walking. “Who are you betting on, Savage?”

I pointed to the challenger. I knew her better than anypony. There was no chance of her losing.

“Really now? Okay. I’ll take the innkeeper. Loser bunks with the bat.”

I hoped he wouldn’t be too bitter about that.

The hoofwrestle began. Well, to a certain extent. Neither the challenger or the incumbent seemed to be exerting much effort. That, or they were equally strong and deadlocked. Neither hoof was moving. The innkeeper used her other hoof to push her drink aside. It seemed she was getting serious.

The challenger snickered. Her back hooves began tapping on the ground. “Where’d all that confidence of yours go?”

The innkeeper’s smirk had faded into a grimace. Her hoof was starting to waver. “You’re tougher than you look.”

She had no idea. The innkeeper’s hoof was slammed onto the table. The challenger took the innkeeper’s mug and drained it. That was my cue to leave. The show was over. I’d rather avoid being part of the after party.

Lamentation put his hoof on my shoulder. “Hey. How did you know she’d win?”

Because she was my sister. I knew better than anypony how much she hated losing.

***

I sat against the wall and watched over Packrat as she slept. I knew what it was like to be under the effects of vulpa venom. Or breezadores as they seemed to call them. She was putting up a brave front, but that didn’t show while she slept. She tossed and turned in the bed. She kept muttering names. Moonscape. Sunshine. Dartboard. Her body would grow tense with each word. I had to calm her down a few times by patting her head. At that point the only name she’d mutter was mine. It also led to a lot of drool.

Watching over a sick pony was exhausting. I was starting to fade. I needed sleep for the raid tomorrow, but Packrat needed me awake in case she worsened. I wondered if one of the other two would mind watching her for me. I quickly decided Lamentation wouldn’t do. He hadn’t been willing to fight with the raiders. I took that as a sign he didn’t care too much for companionship. That left Mirage. No doubt she’d complain about it. I was quite sure she’d do it though. She had been willing to give us medical supplies when we were complete strangers. Now that we were companions, she didn’t have a reason to say no.

I slowly walked towards the door. I opened it an—

“Oh.” Orchestra had raised her hoof, as if she were about to rap on the door. She took a couple steps backwards. “Hi, Symphony.”

My eyes immediately examined her boot. No kirpan.

“I’m unarmed.” She walked in a circle; I presumed she wanted to show me she had no weapons hidden on her person. She leaned against the wall and groaned. “Listen. I saw you walk in, and I didn’t know what to do. But now Purity’s asleep. And I’m drunk. And…-can we talk? Do I get to do that?”

I nodded to her. Of course I did. The last time I had seen my sister was supposed to be the last time. Yet, she was unarmed. If I had the choice, I’d rather our final meeting not be one where we tried to kill each other. However, I had some business to attend to first.

I knocked on the other door. A groggy Mirage opened it. She wiped her face with her hoof and yawned. “What do you want, Savage?”

I pointed to Mirage. I then pointed to my eyes. I stepped aside and titled my head towards the door.

“You want me to watch the door?”

She was close. I tapped my forehead and extended my hoof to resemble a horn.

“Watch Packrat?” Her eyes narrowed as she scowled. “Why can’t you do it?”

I didn’t know if she could read lips, but I mouthed my answer to her. “Family.” I then walked down the hall with Orchestra beside me. Neither of us said anything as we walked down to the bar. Our silence followed us outside. The two of us sat on the ground and looked up at the stars.

It was amazing to see them again. I had taken them for granted when I grew up. Not seeing them for so long made me realize how much I missed them. This same feeling did not apply to my sister. I missed her, but I knew that I was glad to be away from her. I wanted my last memory of her to be a different one, but I needed there to be a last memory. Hopefully that would be tonight.

Orchestra lied on her back. She tapped her hooves against her chest. She was scowling, but she wasn’t looking at me. If I had to guess, she was scowling at herself. “I….” She turned onto her side. Probably so she wouldn’t have to look me in the eye. “I miss you. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

No, she wasn’t. She hated what had become of our relationship. She was sorry that the two of us had tried to kill each other. I agreed with her there. But she wasn’t sorry for the deaths of my friends. I knew without a shadow of a doubt she wasn’t sorry for orchestrating Lyra’s death. And I didn’t forgive her. I think she knew all that. That’s why she couldn’t look me in the eye.

‘Chestra half sighed and half groaned. “I know you don’t forgive me. You’re too stubborn for that.” To my surprise, she laughed. “It’s funny. I actually felt closure when you left the waystation. So much for that, right?” She sniffled. I saw her rub her face with her hoof. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this. It’s clear you don’t want to see me. I just…-I…-you’re my brother, Symphony. I couldn’t just let you walk out of my life again without at least saying hello.” She stood up and shook her head. “This is stupid.”

‘Chestra padded towards the door. I didn’t follow her. I did turn my head around when I heard the door creak. ‘Chestra was halfway inside when she caught me staring. She gave me the saddest look I had ever seen. “Love you.”

I tapped my chest twice and pointed towards her.

Orchestra smiled. It wasn’t a particularly large smile, but it didn’t have to be. It was warm enough to melt the snow after a blizzard. She kept on smiling, as she disappeared from sight. Now that was a memory I could cherish. There was no screaming. No bleeding. No dead friends. Just a smile….

I didn’t know how long I sat there. I lost track of time as I watched the stars. Gazing upon them gave me comfort. Something I sorely missed in the Wasteland. I suddenly felt something warm wrap around me, which snapped me out of my reverie. I turned to my left. Mirage was sitting next to me. Her right wing was wrapped around my shoulder.
“You looked cold.”
I smiled at her before resuming my star gazing.

She grunted. “In case you were wondering, Lamentation is watching Packrat. He said he didn’t trust me to not suck her blood. I told him I didn’t trust him not be a dickhead.” I nodded my thanks, but I didn’t pay her much heed. She scoffed. “What is it with ponies and stars? They’re just twinkling lights. And if you want to go further, they’re just burning balls of gas. It’s stupid.”

I didn’t bother answering her question. It wasn’t one that could be answered. It could only be felt.

“Thanks.”

Hmmm? I cast my eyes in her direction. Mirage was looking up at the sky, and I noticed a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I had been playing that message for a few days. My unit and I got ambushed by raiders on our way to that vulpa nest. After all the bugs and bastards, I was the only survivor. You two didn’t even know me, but you came to save me. And I hadn’t thanked you yet. So, thanks.” The corner of her mouth turned into a smirk. “Of course, I had to save your asses just as much as you saved mine. And now I have to put up with that other pain in the ass. So maybe you haven’t been that helpful after all.”

There went that moment. Mirage didn’t say anything after that. Despite what she was saying earlier, she watched the stars with me for the rest of the night.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: It's How You Use It-You tried your first big gun, but it just wasn't your thing. No shame, no judgment. But on the bright side, you're more sure than ever that you like lighter guns and melee weapons. Weapons under ten pounds do 5% more damage in a critical situation.

Author's Note

Authors Notes: Thank you to Kkat, other authors, and my readers. And to all of the above, Happy New Year. Or at the very least, Happy Chinese New Year. It's the Year of the Rooster in a couple days, which is my year, and I'm super stoked about that. I'm also stoked about the new Overwatch skins. Hope I get some good ones. Whatever you do for Chinese New Year, even if it's treating it like just another day, I hope you have an excellent one!

2.7: Lord Of The Vulpas

2.7 Lord of the Vulpas
“Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!”

I awoke to find Mirage’s head resting on my shoulder. She was snoring softly. It was almost as if she were whistling. I looked to the sky and recoiled at the brightness. The sun must have risen hours ago. How long had the two of us been out here? Wow. I never thought I’d think it, but thank goodness I was in the Crystal Wasteland. If I had fallen asleep in the open on the other side of the border, I doubted I would have lived to see the sun.

“’Bout time you two finished hibernating.”

A glance behind me told me why I had been so lucky. Lamentation was standing by the door of the inn with his rifle at the ready.

Packrat was standing next to him with our bags. Her lip was still swollen, but she looked a lot better than she did last night. She smiled and hopped up and down. “You and Mirage have gotten really close. Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Egh. Hardly.” It seemed Mirage was awake. She scooted away from me. She pointed one of her wings at me. “If you did anything to me while I was asleep I swear I’m going to—”

“Suck his blood?”

Mirage glared bullets at him. “Go fuck yourself.”

“I’d rather that than touch any part of you.”

Racist comments aside, this was what I imagined a married couple would sound like. Though I doubted these two would ever fall in love with each other.

Mirage snorted and spat. “Are you ready to lead the way?”

Lamentation nodded. “Though let me be the first to say this is a stupid idea.”

“You can leave if you want. I’m sure we can find our way there without you.”

“Not a chance.” Lamentation started walking. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my old age, only an idiot travels the Wasteland alone.”

The first time I had met Packrat, she had been alone. I wasn’t sure if I would truly call her an idiot. She could be idiotic, but I didn’t think the label of idiot truly fit her. If anything, Packrat’s real vice was her heroism. She had saved me, Lysandra, and Mirage in the short time I had known her. Each time, she willingly threw herself into danger for another pony’s sake. We were about to do the same thing. This wasn’t to save anypony directly. We were attempting to slay a monster because it was on Mirage’s to-do list. I was allowed to kill monsters, but this wasn’t the best use of our time and resources. Heroism had its place. I wasn’t sure if Packrat knew that or not.

Packrat trotted to my side. “How’re you doing, Savage?”

I shook my head and pointed at her.

She shook her head in return. “This is nothing. I’ve survived a lot worse than breezadore bites.” She motioned towards Mirage and Lamentation. “What do you think of these two?”

It was too early to tell. If my friendship with Carbine taught me anything, it was first impressions weren’t important. As far as first impressions went, however, I wasn’t overly impressed with our new companions. I liked them, I supposed. I didn’t hate Mirage for sure. I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted Lamentation. I understood his mentality of not wanting to be alone in the Wasteland, but he hadn’t batted an eye at his dead comrades. That didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want him expelled from the group, but I wasn’t ready to welcome him with open hooves either.

To answer Packrat’s question, I shrugged.

She nodded. “Yeah. I like ‘em too.” That wasn’t what I had said but whatever. “I know Mom’ll be excited to have more ponies around town. She could barely contain herself when she met you and Lysa.”

Really? I thought back to Maud Pie’s monotone welcome. If that was her excited, I wondered how dull she would be if she were bored. I couldn’t deny that made me more optimistic. If the mare in charge of Boulder Springs liked me, it gave me a better chance of saving Carbine. That and actually having a place to live my life.

The only question was what I wanted to do with my life. I recalled the conversation I had with Lyra, or maybe it would be more accurate to say the conversation I had with myself. I wanted to live. I was going to live. In all honesty, I didn’t know what that truly meant. Obviously it meant not dying. I knew there was more to it. Without Lyra, I didn’t know what that more to it was anymore. I had friends, but Carbine was not the type of pony I wanted to base my life around. Which was ironic, considering he was the reason I was associating myself with Boulder Springs in the first place. I couldn’t picture myself forming a relationship with Packrat or Shadow either. I trusted Lysandra even less than I trusted Lamentation. I wondered if that was what I really wanted. To find a mare to settle down with. To replace Lyra….

I felt something hard hit the back of my head. I rubbed my head and saw Mirage standing next to me. She was wearing her hoof claws, and the spike-ball was attached to her tail. What had she hit me with? I received my answer when she slapped my head, again, with her wing. “Don’t go spacing out on me, Savage. I need you at full attention when we go bug hunting.”

Fair enough. Thoughts about my future could wait. After all, there was no future to be had if I didn’t make it through the present.

***

I may not have been overly impressed by my new companions, but they were more impressive than the hive. The hive was a cave. That was it. I supposed there would be something inside the cave, but I was expecting a large compound of some sort. Roughly ten vulpas buzzed around the mouth of the cave. Those must have been the guards. These vulpas were bulkier than the ones I had previously encountered. They were not taller, thank goodness, but they looked as though they could take a few hits.

Packrat nodded to Mirage. “This is your thing, Mirage. You tell us what to do.”

Lamentation scoffed but didn’t say anything. Mirage smirked at that. She nudged me with her wing. “Still have the minigun?”

I shook my head and pointed at Packrat. She and I had switched off during the trek here. I carried the assault rifle and the other weapons, while she carried the minigun. Thank goodness she had dropped her junk off at Boulder Springs. Otherwise we would have left the minigun behind. Facing a squad of ten large vulpas, I was glad we had it.

Packrat whipped out the minigun, and it fell to the ground. THUD! Oh no. We were situated on a hill and had taken cover behind some boulders. We could hide from the vulpas, but they would have heard that sound.

I raised my head to sneak a peek at the vulpas. They had heard the sound alright. A swarm of ten bulky vulpas was flying towards us. I glanced back at my companions. Mirage must have seen the panic in my eyes. She picked up the minigun and flew over the rocks. She wasn’t able to fly very fast due to the weight of the weapon, but she was fast enough to get over our cover and start firing.

She screamed guttural sounds as the minigun roared. Some of the bullets missed; others tore the vulpas to pieces. Mirage clipped their wings and tore off their legs. The vulpas hissed. Blood dripped from large wounds. I hoped there was no venom in there. We were going to have to walk through that in a minute. Four of them were dead before they hit the ground. Five more hit the ground writhing. Lamentation and I finished them off with a few headshots.

That left one more vulpa. Click. Click. Click. Smoke was flowing from the barrel of the minigun instead of bullets. Mirage grunted and hurled the minigun at the vulpa. It didn’t go very far before gravity sent it plummeting towards the ground.

The vulpa lunged towards Mirage. I expected her to try and evade it. That’s what I would have done. Mirage simply scowled and retrieved her shotgun from the holster on her back. She took aim and prepared to fire. The vulpa’s eye exploded before she had the chance to. The vulpa lost its bearings and crashed onto the ground before us.

Lamentation nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Mirage holstered her shotgun with a dirty look. “Glory hog.”

He shook his head. He looked at me and Packrat with a smirk. “That’s the problem with monsters. They don’t appreciate good deeds.”

Mirage rolled her eyes. She descended so that she was standing on top of the pile of rocks. “The bugs are dead. We can go inside now.”

“Nope!” All eyes turned to Packrat. She was rummaging through the vulpa’s thorax with her head inside its body. “I know it’s in here some—ooh! Found it.” She emerged covered in the vulpa’s blood with a large sac dangling from her mouth. She dropped the sac into her bag. “Okay. Now we’re good.”

Mirage and Lamentation shared incredulous stares. When they looked at me, I smiled back. After the Sugar Favor Fun Store, I was used to Packrat’s looting. She took sacs from the other vulpas as well. While Packrat was busy, I took the first steps into the cave. I couldn’t see anything past the mouth of the cave. I would need the lamp from her PipBuck to make any real progress.

I heard a sound behind me. It sounded like a fire coming to life. I turned my head. Lamentation was standing behind me with a cigarette in his mouth. The glow of the cigarette did not produce much light, but it was something. At least I could see my companions.

Mirage snorted beside him. “Put that thing out. You’ll give us all cancer.”

“Just you.” He blew smoke from his nostrils into her face.

Mirage coughed and flapped her wings to dissipate the smoke. “You prickhole.” She pulled out her shotgun. She wasn’t going to shoot him was she? Luckily, she didn’t. Even better, she turned on a flashlight above the barrel. “Better than your fucking cancer stick.”

Lamentation grunted. He spat his cigarette by Mirage’s hooves and put it out. “Satisfied, bat?”

“Nope. This is a terrible idea.” Packrat stepped forward. There was a green light emanating from her PipBuck. “We’re at a huge disadvantage in here. The PipBuck lamp and flashlight don’t give us nearly enough light for us to fight.”

Lamentation snorted. “What do you suggest? Luring them out with some candy and bright colors?”

Packrat looked at me with a grin. “Something like that.” I was wondering if I should start worrying now or if I should wait. Packrat trotted towards me and tapped my grenade necklace. “Savage has incendiary grenades. If we set this place on fire, we might be able to lure the breezadores out.”

Lamentation raised a hoof. “One question: how do we set rocks on fire?”

Packrat’s answer was simple. She pointed up. Her PipBuck lamp shone on the ceiling.

Oh. This was more what I was expecting from a hive. The ceiling of the cave was a large oozing membrane. The space was crammed by vulpas, eggs, and other creatures. I watched as vulpas tore into some of the helpless creatures. A small dog and a bird were being feasted upon. The animals squirmed, but they were overwhelmed. They were being eaten alive. This was abhorrent and disgusting. I also witnessed a pair of vulpas fighting over a mate. Others were in the process of mating, which was equally abhorrent and disgusting.

Lamentation stroked his chin. “I wonder why they haven’t noticed us yet.”

Mirage shrugged. “The more important question is who’s going to use the grenades?”

“Who else but you?”

Mirage showed her fangs. “Let me guess, because I’m expendable?”

“No. You can see in the dark, can’t you?” Mirage nodded. “That gives you an advantage over the rest of us. You can go further into the cave and find the best place for the grenades. If you’re not using light, it’ll decrease your chances of being found. I also doubt Savage and I would be able to reach the ceiling without wings or magic. And speaking of wings, you’re the most agile. You can probably escape before the fires gets you.” His lips curled. “Not saying you aren’t expendable. But you do have actual use.”

Mirage sighed. “Well, it’s something.” She cast her eyes upon me. “I’ll take the grenades.”

I removed the incendiary grenades without removing the pins. All yours, Mirage.

“Savage. You mind carrying my stuff? I don’t want to be weighed down.”

I shrugged. I felt that I was practically Packrat’s pack mule already. Mirage removed her hoof claws and tail spike, but she kept her shotgun. Of all the places to store the grenades, she chose her mouth. She could have emptied her bag and carried the grenades in there. Her mouth seemed dangerous.

“This way something’s bound to go up in flames,” Lamentation muttered.
Mirage either didn’t hear him, or she didn’t care. She saluted and took off. It took no more than eight seconds for her to completely disappear from sight. It was as if the darkness itself had swallowed her. I felt very thankful I would not have to venture deeper into the cave.

Lamentation started to walk out of the cave. Packrat trotted behind him, and I brought up the rear. The three of us took our positions behind the boulder. We trained our guns at the mouth of the cave. Mirage should be flying out at any second with a swarm of angry, likely burning, vulpas behind her. If at all possible, I wanted to kill the Legendary Vulpa as soon as it emerged.

We waited. The strange thing about waiting was it made time slow down. I felt that I was staring at the cave for hours. The sun hadn’t set, so I couldn’t be too dramatic and say days. In reality, it was likely only a few minutes. Every second felt as long as a year. Where was she? Where were they? And was I hearing buzzing, or was I just losing my mind?

The period of eternal waiting was filled by some of the quickest moments I had ever been a part of.

Mirage burst forth from the mouth of the cave. She spun around in midair and fired two shots from her shotgun. “Grenades! Grenades!” She fired another shot. “And would somepony get me my goddamned claws!”

I heard her the first time. I had removed one of my grenades with no band. I removed it without pulling the pin and bucked it towards Mirage, while Packrat levitated the claws. Mirage flew towards the claws and grenade with her hooves outstretched, and her tail ready to strike. In one smooth motion, she slipped on the hooves and caught the grenade with her tail. With a flick of her tail, she flung the grenade into the cave and shot at it. The force of the explosion knocked her backwards. She fell onto the ground and skidded when she hit the ground.

From the other side of the cave, I heard a symphony of thuds. I assumed I was hearing the sounds of dying vulpas. How many were we killing? I had no love lost on vulpas after my experience with the venom. My encounter yesterday had not exactly warmed my heart towards them either. Still, something about this felt wrong. We had invaded their home, and we were destroying them. Vulpas were monsters but not in this case. If anything we were the monsters right now. This line of thinking wouldn’t stop me from killing any vulpa that so much as looked my way. But I couldn’t help but acknowledge we had no moral ground in this situation. So much for this being the civilized Wasteland.

Vulpas who had survived the flames and explosions, and Mirage’s sporadic fire, came out of the cave. Most of them didn’t get far. A majority of the vulpas were on fire. Some of them died while in the air, while others fell to the ground after their wings burnt. I watched one vulpa crawl towards Mirage with both of its wings and half its face burnt. The other half of its face was slashed to pieces by Mirage. Lamentation, Packrat, and I provided cover by shooting the stragglers. Packrat’s assault rifle was a national treasure with how much damage it was doing. Carbine would have loved it. Lamentation’s shots were rarer than Packrat’s, but each shot registered a kill.

Since I had issues with my guns yesterday, I wanted to stay conservative with my shots. I had learned Savage only needed to be reloaded, but Memento had legitimately jammed. I didn’t want to overuse it and risk another jam. I kept my eyes on the vicinity around Mirage. If a vulpa got too close or appeared prepared to attack, I fired. Savage put a hole in a vulpa’s wing, while Memento shot another in its stomach. I fired again. I severed a vulpa’s leg, as it was about to strike. Mirage finished it off by eviscerating it. Mirage’s body was drenched in the blood and guts of vulpas. Ew. I didn’t envy her in the slightest. If anything, I empathized.

The assault rifle went off twice more. The bullets pierced the final vulpa’s chest. It fell to the ground, and its life ended via one of Lamentation’s well-placed shots. Mirage gently descended. As soon as her hooves touched the ground, she collapsed onto her belly. Packrat and I immediately ran down towards her.

“Mirage, are you okay?!”

Packrat lifted Mirage’s head. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing. The Nocti smirked and nodded. She kept her eyes closed. I imagined she was exhausted. Packrat gently laid Mirage’s head on the ground. “I’m going to see what these guys have. Mind watching her?”

Not at all. I sat down beside Mirage. That was all the answer Packrat needed. She skipped towards the nearest vulpa and began inspecting the corpse. Lamentation approached me and sat down as well. “You seem to have taken a liking to the bat.”

I supposed I had to an extent. We weren’t particularly close, but I considered her to be my friend. I still stood by my thoughts earlier. But Mirage and Lamentation had both grown on me. I supposed fighting by another pony’s side was the ultimate test of comradery. I shrugged.

He chuckled. “Now that she’s finished her mission, I wonder what she’ll do when she wakes up.”

“Get as far away from you as possible.” Mirage opened her eyes. Her eyes were glaring, but there was a good-natured smile on her face. “If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Lamentation retrieved a flask from his bag and drank. He offered it to Mirage. “Whiskey?”

“Thanks.” She stood up and had a drink. “Savage?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t thirsty.

Lamentation shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He took his flask from Mirage and had another drink. Then he rested his head against the hill. “You know, there’s something that feels wrong about all this.”

I agreed with him on that. Though I was surprised to find Lamentation felt the same moral quandary I did.

Mirage cracked her neck. “And what would that be?”

Lamentation motioned to the dead swarm in front of us. “Which one of those was the Legendary Breezadore?”

Mirage looked around her. “Hmm. I have a description in my bag.” She trotted up the hill. I heard her rummaging through her bag. “Okay. According to reports, the Legendary Breezadore is, and I quote, ‘a big blue motherfucker with a squeaky voice and pink mane.’ That describe any of our friends down there?”

No. No, it didn’t. There was an entire rainbow of vulpas. Some of them were even blue. None of them had a pink mane. I also hadn’t heard any of them speak. They hissed; they roared. They didn’t talk.

“Yeah, one.”

Everypony looked at Packrat. She had been standing inside the cave. I assumed she was looting the vulpas who had never made it outside. She was slowly backpedaling, and I noticed her legs were shaking. I didn’t like that.

Mirage glided to a space beside Packrat. “Which one.”

“That one.”

“Whe—oh shit!” Mirage sprinted away from the cave and flew back behind the rock cover. “Guys, get up here!”

Packrat followed. Lamentation and I shared a worried expression before rushing up the hill. All four of us were panting. In addition, Lamentation was glaring. “My legs aren’t what they used to be. So would one of you mares mind telling me what I’m running from?”

Mirage poked her head out from the rocks. She pointed with one of her hooves. “From that.”

Lamentation raised his head first. He quickly lowered it and pressed a hoof against his chest. His glare intensified. “Are you serious right now?” He was whispering, but his tone was as cold as ice.

Mirage nodded. “Yeah. That’s the last one.” She took a deep breath and put on a brave face. “But we made it this far. He might be a big motherfucker, but he won’t stand a chance against us.”

Lamentation grunted. “What’s all this we and us nonsense?” He nudged me and looked at Packrat. “We’re not NCR. We have no stake in this mission or loyalty to the bat. We can just leave.”

“No, we can’t.” Packrat put a hoof on Mirage’s shoulder. “I told her we were going to help her, and we’re going to do that.” Lamentation opened his mouth; Packrat shook her head. “You’re staying with us, mister. And after this, you’re taking me to Failed Wish.”

Lamentation flinched at Packrat’s tone, which was almost as icy as his own. “You’re insane.” He glanced at me. I wasn’t going to just leave Packrat. I kept my answer short; I shrugged. “You’re all insane.” He continued to grumble to himself, but he didn’t make any attempt to leave.

That was the end of that conversation. It seemed I was in this for the long haul. In that case, I needed to get a look at what I would be fighting. I raised my head to…-Oh my.

The average vulpa was slightly smaller than a foal. The bulkier vulpas had been roughly the same size. The creature I saw making its way out of the cave was double the size of an alicorn, possibly larger. It had more wings than a regular vulpa. I was sure it also had more teeth. Its claws glinted like steel. Most terrifying of all were its eyes. It didn’t have the bulging eyes of a normal vulpa. Its eyes looked almost like a pony’s. Despite its size, this one had softer features than the other. Its dark blue coloring seemed less baleful than the others. Its pink mane was significantly glossier than the other vulpas.

What in the name of Celestia or Cadance, or whatever other poor excuses for goddesses we had, had created this abomination? Had it even been created in the first place, or had there been a transformation of some sorts? It looked more pony than the others. Could something like this happen to me? Those questions aside, this was still a large creature with multiple ways of killing me. And it looked very angry.

I was terrified. I wanted to pull the trigger, but my mouth wouldn’t bite down on the bit. I wanted to start running, but I was frozen in place. Bang. Packrat fired the first shot. A slug from Opus hit the Legendary Vulpa in the neck. The slug exploded upon contact. The Legendary Vulpa reared back and screamed. It didn’t roar or hiss; it screamed. It touched its neck with one of its claws. Its red eyes frantically searched the area for what had attacked it.

“Where are you?”

“Right here.” Packrat was running down the hill with a plethora of weapons levitating around her. I noticed the glint in her eyes. Packrat was all business. And she needed help. Mirage and Lamentation hadn’t moved. That needed to change.

I stomped on the ground to get their attention. I pointed to Mirage, and then pointed to the sky. We needed her in the air. That way she could keep an eye on everypony. She could call out strategies from there, as well as be a distraction when it was needed. Her combat was also suited to close-quarters, and that worked at its best when she was airborne.

I then looked at Lamentation and stomped on the ground twice. He needed to stay up here. His job was to provide cover fire. He was older, and he had already complained about his legs. Having him running around wouldn’t do anypony any favors. Similar to Mirage in the air, Lamentation’s position allowed him to see what was going on, and he could act accordingly.

He smirked and readied his rifle. “Stay here, huh? Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Mirage openly scowled at me. “And where are you going to be while I risk my life in the sky?”

The only place left. I couldn’t stay here with Lamentation. If the Legendary Vulpa was being attacked by two ponies up here, it would have extra incentive to attack this spot. Packrat had the ground covered, and I wasn’t especially mobile anyways. It wasn’t like I could take residence in the sky either. I pointed to my position. The cave.

Her eyes widened. “How are you going to get in there?”

I was glad she asked. I doubted I’d be able to get there without her. I reached into my bag and retrieved a flashbang. I tossed it to her, and she caught it in her mouth. I closed my eyes and mimed throwing it. When I opened my eyes, I saw Mirage rolling hers. “I’m an NCR soldier. I know what a flashbang is, dummy.”

No need to be so rude.

She gave me an uneasy glance. “Are you sure about this?”

Of course I wasn’t. Dashing past a massive insect wasn’t one of my life goals by any stretch of the definition. It was where I felt I could be most effective, though. Mirage and Lamentation were my comrades, but I wasn’t ready to call them my family yet. I wasn’t sure about Packrat either, but I felt she was getting there. If there was any way I could help her, I wanted to do it.

I nodded to Mirage. I hunched and prepared to spring. Once the flashbang went off, I would make a break for the cave. The Legendary Vulpa was currently occupied with Packrat. It lunged at her with its large stinger. Packrat rolled out of the way of the stinger but into the path of one of its claws. The claw cut into the side of her face. Packrat screamed, as she staggered backward. She blindly fired the assault rifle. She completely missed the Legendary Vulpa.

Lamentation tilted his head towards Mirage. “What are you doing just standing there? Get over there!”

She didn’t argue with him or shoot him a dirty look. Mirage slipped the spike-ball onto her tail and grabbed a few syringes of anti-venom in her mouth. I couldn’t help but notice she could fit a lot in her mouth. She burst into the air. Mirage sailed towards the Legendary Vulpa. She poised to attack with her claws, but she chose to dive at the last second to avoid an incoming claw. Not only did she avoid the attack, but her tail struck the monster in the chest. It recoiled slightly, but it was enough. Mirage spat the flashbang into the air and knocked it into the Legendary Vulpa with her wing. She swooped towards Packrat and used her wings to shield the unicorn from the bang.

I closed my eyes and started running. I heard the flashbang go off. I had a few precious seconds. I opened my eyes after a few seconds—just in time to have one of its claws rake into my side. The impact knocked me onto my side. I started to slide, and I used my momentum to roll towards the cave.

The Legendary Vulpa was thrashing near me. Its claws swiped in random directions. It spat out a constant stream of venom. Mirage returned to the air. She ducked and weaved around its attacks. Packrat had retreated away from the thrash zone. She was removing a syringe from her cheek, and I watched her gulp down a healing potion. Her body was starting to spasm as well. It had taken me three days to recover from vulpa venom. Even then, I still felt the side-effects for a short while. I couldn’t imagine how Packrat was doing. She was my first priority. I had to keep that thing away from her while she took some time to recover. Then she’d need a long rest.

I winced, as I felt my side sting. I wasn’t sure if the pain was from the scratch itself or the venom. Though the two weren’t mutually exclusive. I gritted my teeth and removed a green band grenade. These had a good track record against vulpas. Legendary or not, this one shouldn’t be different. I hoped.

I was about to buck the grenade, but there was a surge of pain. I was distracted for a moment. One moment too many. The grenade hit the ground before I had the chance to kick it. And I heavily doubted I had any kind of immunity towards green waves of magic. I galloped further into the darkness of the cave. The only sources of light I had were the fires blazing around the membrane on the ceiling. I could barely see in front of me. That was fine if I would be safe from the grenade.

Boom.

The grenade exploded. I didn’t look back at the wave. I continued galloping. My hooves were aching; my side was burning. Still, I kept running. I could have died if I slowed down. I wouldn’t slow down until I knew that I was safe. Or, as it turned out, if I tripped over my hooves. My body crashed onto the ground and hit a boulder. Great. Now I could add my back to an ever growing list of hurt body parts.

I slowly rose to my hooves. There was no sign of the green wave. The good news was I had survived. Aside from the pain in my body, there wasn’t a lot of bad news. I was away from the action, but that wasn’t a problem so long as my comrades were safe. I needed to get back, though. I wanted to help them.

I started to turn back towards where I had come, when something caught my eye. In the flickering of the flames, I noticed an object sitting a ways off. I trotted towards it. Despite growing closer, I couldn’t make out what the object was. Its silhouette was small. Almost like…-I picked up the object and took it into the light.

My suspicion was correct. This was one of the Fallen Ang—Ministry Mare figurines. Due to the low light, and the effects of the venom, I couldn’t tell what her colors her. I was certain she was a pegasus, and I could barely make out her butterfly cutie mark. This must’ve been Fluttershy. What was this doing in the vulpa hive? I assumed it belonged to a vulpa victim. Either that or it was a possession of the Legendary Vulpa. Hmmm. If that was the case then hopefully I could use it as a distraction.

There was not much else to explore, and I knew I was safe from the blast. I galloped through the darkness towards where I believed the mouth of the cave to be. Thankfully, I was right. The massive monster had its back towards me. That gave me a good opening, especially if I could hamper the stinger at the end of its tail.

I lined up Savage with the stinger. As I bit down, I heard a loud scream. The scream distracted me, and the shot went wide. I barely clipped the edge of one of its wings. Not enough to do any damage, but it was enough to get its attention.

The Legendary Vulpa turned towards me. As it turned, I saw the source of the scream. Mirage was writhing on her back. Her side and tail were bleeding. One of her front loves was limp; I assumed it was broken. The source of the scream was not among those injuries. I had seen vulpas spit venom. I had never seen venom hit a pony in the eye. The area around Mirage’s eye had been seared black. The venom ate away at her flesh in a manner I hadn’t thought possible.

Mirage rolled onto her belly, and I saw her eye. It had lost its color. It was just a white oval. It was as if her eye had been replaced by an egg. I was fighting an enemy who could do that to me at any given moment. And I was currently its primary focus. As Carbine would say: motherfucker.

The Legendary Vulpa glared at me with its pony-like eyes. “Why do you want to hurt me? Why do ponies always want to hurt the breezies?”

That was for Mirage to answer, not me. I was just here to make sure nopony got killed. I may not have been doing the best job I could, but, as far as I knew, I had yet to fail. Also, breezies? I supposed that meant breezadore was more correct than vulpa. This was thoroughly not the best time to be contemplating what terms I should be using to define my enemy, but it was good to know for future reference.

A wet, sticky, noise, came from its throat. It was about to spit at me. I had an idea, and I absolutely hated it. I reached into my bag and wrapped my jaws around the figurine of Fluttershy. The Legendary Breezadore opened its mouth, but it hesitated before spitting. “Fluttershy? You came all the way here for Fluttershy?”

No. I just needed a distraction. I wasn’t even sure if it would work. But I was willing to take this risk if it gave me an opening. I removed the other regular grenade with my hoof, but I didn’t remove the pin. The grenade fell to the ground. It barely made a sound. Good. I would need stealth for this to work. I slowly walked towards the Legendary Breezadore. I kicked the grenade forward with each step. I clutched Fluttershy tightly. I hoped she would continue to shield me from the bug until I needed her again.

Given how close I was to its claws, I decided that time was now. I reared my head back and tossed Fluttershy into the air. The figurine sailed past the Legendary Breezadore’s head. It turned its head and snatched her with one of its wings. It smirked. The condescending look in its eye reminded me of ‘Chestra whenever she would scold me. “Foolish, pony. You have no—”

As soon as I had thrown Fluttershy, I swatted the grenade into the air with my tail. I gave it a good buck. According to my calculations, the grenade should have been going right for its mouth. I had a feeling it would open its mouth to say something. Tell me, Legendary Vulpa. What was that about a foolish pony?

There was a sound. I couldn’t quite find the words to describe it. The closest I could come to was, pshzing. A thin green light, so thin I barely noticed it, pierced the Legendary Vulpa’s cheek. Its cheeks had already received damage from Mirage’s claws. There were a few scorch marks too, which I assumed were residue from Opus. This shot simply broke the camel’s back.

The grenade burst. The Legendary Breezadore’s cheeks exploded. Flesh, blood and venom poured from the remains of its head onto the ground. Its body toppled to the ground. Its wings and claws twitched. I didn’t know how, but there were still signs of life in its eyes. Though, I didn’t expect it to last much longer. Lamentation readied the strange looking rifle and aimed it at the Legendary Breezadore’s head.

“Fluttershy?” Its voice was weak. I was surprised it could still talk since the insides of its mouth were mush. I looked about and found the figurine by its tail. I knew I would be risking my life if I grabbed it. But after what he had done to the Legendary Breezadore and its home, I felt I owed it some decency. I approached the figurine of the pale yellow pegasus, picked it up, and brought it. I couldn’t tell if the Legendary Breezadore saw her or not, but I wanted to believe it did. Otherwise, the Legendary Breezadore died weak, in pain, and alone. Poor bastard.

“Savage!” Packrat coughed out her greeting. Her cheek was bleeding, and the right half of her face was covered in blood. I hoped it came from the Legendary Breezadore. She staggered towards me and collapsed after two steps. I ran towards her. I checked the right half of her face. There didn’t seem to be any wounds capable of that much damage. There weren’t any on her head either. She wasn’t in critical condition, but she needed rest. It didn’t matter how fine she thought she was. I wouldn’t go with her until I was sure she was okay.

“Savage!” Mirage barked. “Do me a favor and get me some hydra and Med-X?”

As you wish. I fished some I had purchased from the Caravan out of my bag. I turned to face Mirage an…-my Goddess. That felt even more blasphemous now that I no longer believed in Cadance’s divinity. It was more of a visceral reaction to what I was looking at. Mirage was using one set of claws to hold open her eyelid. The other claw hovered in front of her eye. Her hovering claw was shaking.

I dropped the chems at her hooves and turned my back.

“Well don’t just stand there. Give me the Med-X.”

My stomach churned as I turned towards her. I could take solace in knowing she wouldn’t tear out her eye without the Med-X. Which meant I wouldn’t need to watch. I injected the needle into her cheek, so the pain killer could affect her face quicker. She gulped and let out a long breath. “You might want to close your eyes.”

I did. I was thankful I didn’t watch Mirage tear out her eye. But hearing it was just as bad. The pain killer was not absolute. Her scream was bloodcurdling. I heard her claws raking out her eye. The sound was wet and squelching. Then I heard a sharp pop, which was followed by a bout of intense and shallow breathing.

“H…-hy…-hy...-hydra….”

I dared not open my eyes. I turned towards Mirage and offered her the bottle.

“Stop dicking around, and give me the damn bottle!”

I opened my eyes. One of her hooves was pressed against the empty socket. Her hoof was soaked in blood. I opened the bottle and shoved it into Mirage’s mouth. I stared into her other eye, as she gulped it down. I didn’t want to see her regrow her eye. Nor did I want to see her discarded eye on the ground.

She pushed the bottle away and turned away. “That should be enough. Thanks.” She staggered towards where Packrat had been laying down. Mirage lied beside her and groaned loudly. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

I heard a whistle behind me. Lamentation stepped up beside me with the strange rifle strapped to his back. “Those mares got real fucked, didn’t they?” There wasn’t much I could add to that statement, so I didn’t bother. Lamentation chuckled and walked into the cave. “I’m going to lie down and sleep. You all join me when you’re ready.”

I would, but I wanted to spend some time with Packrat and Mirage first. They seemed like they could use some company. I sat down beside them, and I gently nudged Mirage.

She groaned and rolled her eye. “Oh, yeah. Great. Just peachy. Fine and dandy.” No need to be so sarcastic. I was simply trying to say hello. She cast her eye away from me and sighed. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I’m just kind of on edge right now. You get that?”

I nodded. I gestured to the scar on my neck. I knew what it was like to lose a vital part of the body. At least Mirage would be getting hers back.

“How’d you get that by the way, Savage?” Packrat had managed to sit up. “You’ve never told me.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t in the mood to write down my back story. I also felt that if I told them how I got my scar, I’d also have to tell them about my journey to through the Crystal Wasteland. And about Lyra.

“Oh, come on, Symph? Are you really that embarrassed of me?”

Lyra Heartstrings XIII was standing beside Packrat. She was pouting at me. She lowered her head and kicked at the ground with her hoof. “Is it because I’m really hot? Or because I’m stupidly hot?”

I tore my eyes away. I closed my eyes and shook my head. It’s just the venom, Symphony. She’s not there. No matter how much you want her to be. It’s just the venom.

***

I awoke to the sound of loud grunting. I kept my eyes closed and plugged my ear. I didn't bother with my other ear because it was almost useless anyways. My attempt to repair until morning was equally useless. I sat up and looked around. Mirage was sleeping loudly beside me. I had expected her to sleep upside down. She instead slept standing up with her wings wrapped around her body like a cocoon. The acoustics in her cocoon were incredible. Her snores echoed; it was almost cute.

I looked away from her. I couldn’t see Packrat or Lamentation from where I was. I decided to investigate the grunting. I grasped the hellhound tooth. I doubted I’d need a weapon, but I felt better with one.

I walked towards the source of the grunting. As the grunts grew louder, the cave grew brighter. The fires were still burning. Although the embers weren’t as bright as they were earlier, they were bright enough for me to watch Lamentation straddling Packrat.

Oh. I turned away with a slight blush. I couldn’t say I was all that surprised. She had slept with Lysandra, and she had made a few advances towards me. I’d rather she fully rested before having sex, but it didn’t seem very strenuous. Lamentation seemed to be doing all the work. On second thought, Packrat didn’t seem to be reacting at all. She wasn’t grunting or moaning. The sounds she made resembled how she snored….

I ran the tooth down a rock wall. The wall screeched violently. Lamentation jerked; Packrat didn’t react. “Savage?” He thrust once and flashed me a grin. “Kinda busy here.”

I walked towards him. My grip on the tooth tightened with every step.

“Really? You’re going to make a scene?” He removed himself from Packrat. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t hurt her like I did that grey bitch.” He looked down at Packrat. “You know. I’ll bet she was enjoying herself.” He brushed his hoof against her face.

I tackled him. Lamentation recoiled and fell onto his side. He rubbed his lips and smiled. He didn’t smirk; he smiled. That made it so much worse. “Oh. Now I get it. You want her, don’t you?”

No. Packrat was a friend. She was someone I wanted to protect. She and Lamentation could fuck each other till the stars fell from the heavens for all I cared. But I refused to let her be taken advantage of. She wasn’t just a body for Lamentation to have his way with. Neither was the grey mare he—Passion. We asked where she was from, not who killed her. Passion hadn’t been killed by slavers. Lamentation was that monster.

"You'll be happy to know that she was really tight." He stood up and licked his lips. "And moist." He chuckled. "In fact, I want another taste."

He stepped towards her. I charged at him again. This time I swiped the tooth at him. Lamentation calmly avoided me. He kicked at my back leg. I lost my balance and landed on my belly. Lamentation pressed his body on top of mine. That was not comfortable. I struggled beneath him to no avail.

“Let me tell you how this works, Savage.” He bit down on my injured ear and violently tugged. I tried to scream, and the hellhound tooth fell. He laughed at the sound I made. “You’re going to stay quiet about what I do during the night. In return, I don’t kill you. See? That’s how you survive out here. You watch out for each other and don’t mind the little things your companions do. But if you tell the bitch or the bat about tonight, I’ll slit your fucking throat. I don’t know who did it to you the first time. But I promise you this. I won’t do a shitty job of it. So how ‘bout it, Savage? Want to be my friend?”

“The fuck are you two doing? Each other?”

Lamentation turned towards Mirage. “You’d love to watch that, wouldn’t you?” He shook his head. “Savage and I were just practicing how to grapple. Right?”

I nodded without looking him in the eye.

“See?” He patted me on the back and stepped off me. “He’s not bad. He just needs to learn his place.”

First lesson, Lamentation: always be on your guard. I had an opening. I didn’t want to take it, but I knew that I had to. It was the only way to ensure Lamentation never hurt another mare again. I snatched the hellhound tooth and rounded on Lamentation before he had the chance to react.

The tooth cleanly sliced through his…-I didn’t want to think about it. The sound he made was something in-between a gasp and a whimper. He slipped his front hooves between his legs. His hooves moved around, frantically searching for something that wasn’t there. He collapsed onto his side. Blood pooled beneath him. He was gasping for breath. Good. I could have ended his pain, but I didn’t want to. Nopony did that to Packrat. Nopony threatened me. I didn’t like how I did it, but I was glad I did it.

I watched the life leave his eyes. In his last act, his face contorted into a snarl. “I’ll see you…-in Tar…-taru…-s, Sa…-vage….”

No, there is no Tartarus, Lamentation. You and I will never meet again. I sighed and sat on my haunches. Fuck. Now I knew why Carbine liked that word so much. It was a stress reliever. I couldn’t say it made me feel better. But just thinking it was almost soothing. It was as if acknowledging the atrocity I witnessed, and committed, brought a semblance of normalcy to the situation. I just gelded a stallion and watched him die in front of me. There wasn’t much normalcy that could be added to that at all. Fuck.

“What the fuck?”

I turned towards Mirage. She was pointing her shotgun at me with shaking hooves. “You just…-I mean I know he was an asshole but…-why? Why’d you do that to him?”

Before I could answer, I heard a yawn. Mirage and I both looked towards Packrat. She slowly lifted her head and yawned a second time. She rubbed her eyes with her hoof and smacked her lips. “Oh, wow. I really needed that sleep. My girl’s feeling kinda sore though. I don’t remember using it last night so—oh, shit, hi, Savage!” Her face turned cherry-red. She looked away from me and saw Mirage. “Oh, um, hi, Mirage! He he he. Funny you guys should be here. An—hey, um, what’s with the shotgun?”

Mirage dropped her shotgun instantly. “Oh. That’s why you did it.”

Packrat titled her head. “Did what?” Mirage pointed towards Lamentation with her wing. Packrat’s eyes followed and saw where the wing was pointing. Her eyes widened, and she hopped to her hooves. “Holy fucking shit! What happened? Is he okay? I mean, no, he’s not okay. He looks dead. He looks really dead.” She fell onto her haunches; her shoulders slumped. “He died right in front of me. I slept through it. I couldn’t save him….”

He wasn’t worth saving. Not after what he did to you. I couldn’t say that with words. Aside from pissing on him, I didn’t know any other way to convey it through actions. Even I had some minuscule of respect for the dead. Barely, but it was there. I passed on urinating on him. I had another action to perform. I walked towards Packrat. I noticed Mirage watching me warily, but she didn’t say anything. She also didn’t pick up her shotgun, which was reassuring.

I stopped walking just in front of Packrat. She shook her head and wiped a stream of tears from her eyes. “Savage, do you know what happened?”

I hugged her. I pressed her close to my chest and refused to let her go.

“He he. Um, you okay, Savage?”

Was I okay? She had just been raped, and she wanted to know if I was okay. I hugged her even tighter than I had before. Packrat. I won’t let anypony hurt you again. I promise.

I hoped with all my being that I would be able to keep it.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: One-Eyed Snake Charmer. Woah, there, buddy. Dick move ;). Seriously, though. You get a 4% damage bonus when fighting males who still have their, uh, genitalia.

Author's Note

Author's Notes:
Hey, everyone! As always, i want to thank Kkat for the original story, other authors for contributing to the 'verse, and for my readers for sticking with this story.

Sorry this one's a little later than normal, which feels weird to say since it's right on time. I've been working on other projects the past few days, and Zoid Hunter came out last night. It's awesome!

Generally speaking, I liked this chapter. It continues my weird trend of having antepenultimate chapters with highly graphic content. Speaking of which, there are two more chapters to go in Coalescence. If you've continued reading to this point, I thank you very much, and I hope you'll enjoy the ending.

Later days!

2.8: The Tell-Tale Battle Saddle

2.8 The Tell-Tale Battle Saddle
“It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.”

It had been roughly three days since I killed Lamentation. The three of us hadn’t conversed much since. Not that I blamed them. What was there to say? Mirage supported my killing him, but she continued to give me awkward stares. Packrat seemed to be avoiding me. The two of them weren’t talking to each other either. Everything was just quiet. For once, I really hated that.

The only nugget of conversation had come from Mirage a couple of days ago. “I really appreciate you guys helping me. On my honor as an NCR soldier, I’ll make sure you return to Boulder Springs.” Then she had glared at me. “Just don’t get any ideas, Savage. I’m not sticking around so I can spend more time with you.”

That was oddly specific. Until she had said that, I took her statement on face value. Nevertheless, I didn’t confront or tease her about her statement. So, Mirage continued to follow Packrat and me into the Wasteland.

Packrat had taken point; Mirage was in the air. I walked a few paces behind both of them. It was too awkward to be around either of them, so I wanted to keep my distance. Savage and the grenades also worked better while fighting from a distance. If an enemy got too close, I had Memento and the hellhound tooth. I knew the latter worked exceptionally well in close-quarters.

And then there was Glimmer. I had found it in my bag on the day we left the cave. I had decided I wasn’t going to use it unless I felt I needed it. Since everypony survived and was intact, thanks to hydra, I didn’t regret not using Glimmer. But it was generally difficult to use a last resort if I forgot it was in my possession. To make sure I never forgot Glimmer, I added the silver bullet to my necklace of grenades.

I heard a sharp whistle. Packrat was crouched on her belly. She didn’t look behind her, but she was motioning with her hoof. Mirage swooped beside her; I trotted towards them. Packrat held a hoof to her lips. She then pointed to her PipBuck. Three large red dots were visible on her screen. “We need to be careful.”

Did we really? We didn’t know what we were fighting, but the odds weren’t against us. After destroying the vulpa hive, three enemies didn’t sound terribly dangerous. I didn’t want to fight per say. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we needed to be careful.

“Sis! Big bro! I found some ponies!”

So much for being careful. I stood up and pointed Savage in the direction of the voice. Good Goddess not above. It was a zebra. Standing atop a rocky hill was a lone zebra. He looked young, probably about my age. His mane was disheveled, but there was no malice in his eyes. He almost looked sad, but he also looked happy. Weird. His stripes were also weird. I had read zebras were white and black. However, this zebra was white and dark purple.

I also noticed he wasn’t armed. The closest thing he had to a weapon on him was a bottle. I doubted he considered it to be a weapon, since he was busy drinking from it. I lowered Savage. He didn’t seem like he was a monster, and he wasn’t threatening me.

Then a bullet struck the ground in front of my hooves. I swiveled and aimed Savage at a pair of zebras standing on a separate hill. One of them had red stripes; the other blue. Red held a sword in his mouth, and there was a rifle attached to his shoulder. Blue had two gauntlets on her front hooves. Each gauntlet had a large knife emerging from it. There was no firearm attached to her shoulder or back, but she did have a metal helmet with a pair of arrows attached to it. I didn’t know if those could be fired or not. I didn’t want to find out.

Blue nodded to Purple. “Good work, Dionysus.”

Red said something, but I couldn’t understand him through his sword. It seemed not all equines could talk with objects in their mouth. Blue rolled her eyes. “He says lower your weapons and die.”

Mirage scowled. “Doesn’t he mean ‘or?’”

Blue shook her head. “No. He’s an idiot like that.” Red shot her a glare, but Blue glared right back. Red stepped back, but he didn’t look happy. Blue returned her gaze to us. “I, on the other hoof, do mean or. Please, lower your weapons. Zebras and ponies have been fighting for over two centuries. We really don’t need to continue.”

“Oh yeah?” Mirage cocked her shotgun and aimed it at Red and Blue. “And why shouldn’t you lower your weapons? Three of us against two of you doesn’t sound too bad.”

Purple waved his bottle around. “I’m here too.”

Mirage looked at him and looked back at the others. “Like I said. Three against two doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No, Mirage. It’s two against one.”

“Hmm?” Mirage cast a confused glance at Packrat. I did the same.

She was standing away from us with her saddlebags discarded. She was sitting on her haunches with her front hooves raised. “I’m not going to fight them. I have one rule. I don’t attack other equines, pony or zebra, unless I’m defending myself or someone else.”

“It is self-defense. They’re going to capture us.”

Packrat shrugged. “That might not be such a bad thing if they let us go after.”

“But what if they just want to kill us?”

Packrat didn’t look at Mirage when she answered. Instead she looked at me. “Because they wouldn’t have missed Savage. That was a warning shot. Even if it was just a bad shot, I doubt they’d be talking to us if they wanted to kill us. I trust them, Mirage.”

That wasn’t it. Or, at the very least, that wasn’t the whole story. I could see it in her eyes. There was something Packrat wasn’t telling us. What was going on in that head of hers?

Mirage snorted. “Fine, whatever. Even if you don’t fight, I don’t see how that makes it one against two.”

Packrat chuckled. “I could be wrong. But, um, I’m pretty sure Savage won’t fight them if I don’t.”

I didn’t know what irritated me more. Packrat thinking her inaction had any sway over me, or that she was right. My job was to protect her until we returned to Boulder Springs. Joining a fight she wanted no part in would put her in undue danger. I sighed and removed my battle saddle.

“What?!”

I gave Mirage a shrug and took my place beside Packrat.

Mirage groaned loudly and muttered something to herself. I know I heard the word “fuck” in there somewhere. She tossed her shotgun onto the ground and kicked it aside. She continued muttering as she removed her hoof claws. She slammed them on the ground and glared at the zebras. “Satisfied?”

Blue nodded her head. “Quite.” She tapped the left side of her helmet. The attached arrow zoomed forward and struck Mirage in the chest.

Mirage threw her head back and screamed. Her scream lasted only a few moments. She hunched over and mumbled something completely incoherent. Then she fell face first onto the ground. I rushed to her side. At least, I attempted to. A second arrow tore through the air and found its way into my side. The impact knocked me over. I was truly growing to hate being struck by arrows. The tip of the arrow felt wet. It was more than just my blood; there was a chemical on the tip of the arrow. I wasn’t hallucinating, so it wasn’t vulpa venom. It…-was…-some….

***

I awoke in a jail cell. I supposed it was better than waking up inside a chamber pot. I quickly scanned my surroundings. Our jail cell was part of a much larger room. There was very little on the other side of the room. I noticed a wooden chair and a small lantern. Our side of the room was almost as barren. Packrat was sleeping with her back to me, while Mirage was on the ground wrapped in her wing cocoon. I also noticed my saddlebag next to me. I fished through it. I couldn’t find any weapons, or my grenade necklace for that matter, but everything else seemed like it was there.

That included the Daring Do story. Hmmm. Since there was nopony else around, I decided to indulge myself. Tell me, Ms. Do, what have you been up to?

***

Daring and the Shadowbolts continued to make their way through the jungle. The Shadowbolts had been careful to abide by Daring’s rules. None of them had so much as muttered a profane word. More importantly, nopony had fired a shot.

“Holy shi—ship! Not any other word that starts with shi.”

Prism’s ensuing sigh was more of a groan. “Found something, Clover?”

“Uh, yeah.” Clover stepped aside, as Daring and the other Shadowbolts caught up. “The pyramid.”

Technically it’s an octahedron, but I’ll let it slide. A large octahedron was standing in the heart of Hollow Shades. The face positioned towards Daring was painted red. The side on the right appeared to be yellow, while the side on the right appeared to be green. The octahedron looked to be constructed of stone. Since the bog didn’t reach the base of the octahedron, it didn’t sink into the ground.

Daring retrieved her binoculars from her bag to get a better look.

“See anything, Ms. Do?” Prism asked.

“Nothing yet.” But Daring had learned throughout her adventures that her eyes were far from the most useful sense. She lifted her head and sniffed the air. “But I do smell something familiar. It smells like…-cat!” Right on cue, she saw it. Ahuizotl’s small white cat had walked onto the red side from the green side. It looked like it was patrolling. That one has the sharpest eyes and ears of the bunch. If we distract it, we might be able to sneak in. Above the cat, Daring noticed a small hole in the octahedron. That’s our way in.

Daring tossed her binoculars towards Prism. “There’s a skylight nearby we can use as an entrance. Unfortunately, it’s being patrolled by one of Ahuizotl’s guards.”

“You mean the thing I can kill from this distance?”

Daring gasped. Partly in shock that Prism would suggest a thing. On the other hoof: “You can kill it from this far out?”

“Want to see me try?”

Daring quickly shook her head. “No. It’s too risky.”

“Risky?” X scoffed. “What’s the risk?”

“The risk is the other cats will track us down. They’re not as slow as the cragadiles. Trust me, I know. Besides, that’s his favorite cat. There’s no telling what he’s capable of if we make him too angry.”

“We could always just shoot Ahuizotl.” Daring shot Twin a dirty look. “What? That would make this whole mission easier. It would make your life easier too.”

“Yeah, but….” But what? She’s right. I’d never have to worry about stopping Ahuizotl ever again if I stopped him once and for all. Something about that just feels wrong though. Killing is too final. Even for him.

Prism returned the binoculars to Daring. “X, can I borrow your weapon?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” X tossed his weapon to Prism. She caught it in her mouth and fired two shots into the ground.

Daring nearly jumped out of her skin. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

Daring could feel Prism’s grin. “Language, Ms. Do.” She gave the weapon back to X. “That got their attention. I need you to be a decoy. Lure them away from us as long as you can.”

“What about not revealing ourselves?”

Prism shook her head. “I’ll deal with the Princess. You deal with getting the guards off our collective asses. Now go!”

X saluted and sailed into the air. He circled above the others twice before darting away. Daring watched the white cat’s hackles raise. It pointed in the direction X went, and a host of other cats began the chase.

“Twin, you take point. Clover and I will flank Ms. Do.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The Shadowbolts took their positions and began their trek towards the octahedron. Aside from the cats, Daring couldn’t detect any other guards. Ahuizotl’s getting sloppy. She grimaced. Either that or I’m waltzing into another trap.

They had reached the base of the structure in only a few minutes. Twin had been the first to fly inside the hole. She poked her head out of the hole after a few seconds. “Clear.”

Prism motioned to Daring. “Go ahead, Ms. Do.”

Daring nodded and soared into the opening. Twin was already standing on the tiled ground. She waved at Daring, but Daring hesitated. I’ve seen this trap enough times. There were five different symbols on the tiles: a snowflake, a waterfall, a cloud, a lightning bolt, and a tornado Daring noticed Twin was standing on a tornado tile. Okay, that one is safe. So, what’s the pattern? What does a tornado have in common wi—a-ha! Daring gently fluttered onto one of the lightning bolt tiles. Nothing happened. Just as I thought. The tiles all represent aspects of weather except for the waterfall. That one triggers the trap.

“Are you okay, Ms. Do?” Twin took a step forward. She was about to step on a waterfall tile.

“Don’t!”

Twin froze in place. “What? What am I doing?”

Daring pointed at the tile. “The waterfall tiles will trigger traps. We’ll have to be careful when we walk.

She heard a snort behind her. Daring turned her head and saw Prism and Clover hovering near the entrance. “Or we can stay in the air. We are pegasi, you know?”

Daring shook her head. “That usually doesn’t work. There’s usually some sort of sentry. A score of arrows, a motion sensing bomb. Dungeons have rules.”

Prism scoffed. “Fine. We’ll do it your way then.” She dove towards the ground. Towards a waterfall tile.

“Wait!”

Daring’s warning came a fraction of a second too late. Prism’s hooves touched the tile. The tile immediately opened and formed a small crevice. Daring lunged and extended her hoof. Prism fell into the crevice, and the tile closed before Daring could reach her. In the blink of an eye, Prism had disappeared beneath them. The Shadowbolts gasped. Daring simply removed her hat and hung her head. I hope to Celestia there aren’t any spikes down there. She put her hat back on and proceeded to navigate her way across the floor.

“Come on, Twin. We have to follow her.”

“But Prism just…-we can’t just leave her.”

“That’s exactly what we have to do. It’s what she would have wanted. Besides, you know her. It’ll take a lot more than an ancient death trap to kill that bitch.”

Twin sniffled. “Yeah, I guess you’re ri—don’t step there. Avoid the waterfalls.”

“Right, thanks. How’re we looking, Ms. Do?”

Daring was barely listening. She had reached the end of the room and was in the midst of solving a puzzle. The door in front of her had seven slots etched into its face. Before her were seven blocks, each of them had a letter. S, E, E, A, H, V, N. Hmm. I probably only have one chance before I active another trap. I need to be sure. Let’s see. Venhees. No, that’s not a word. Sehnave. Ugh, come on, Daring. It’s not a random word. There has to be a hint in this room.

Daring looked at the tiles. Cloud? No, that’s too short. Lightning? No, too long. Weather? No, there’s no W here. I’m here for the meteorite? How about meteor? No! She paused and took a deep breath. I know those all have something in common. Clouds are in the sky. Weather comes from the sky. Meteors come from the sky. They come from the stars. Sky and stars. What’s another word for sky and stars….

Daring put the blocks together and spelled a word. HEAVENS. She heard a loud clunk, and the door swung open. She grinned and tipped her hat. “Another day, another dungeon.”

“She said it!” Twin hopped into the air. Daring didn’t know for sure, but she’d bet good money that Twin had a goofy smile on her face.

“Yes, she did.”

Oh no. Daring knew that voice. It sent a sense of dread throughout her. Though, if she were being honest, the dread was more like irritation. “Ahuizotl.”

Ahuizotl stood before her.

***

“You’re awake.”

I was also reading. Just as the story was getting good too. It seemed our captors didn’t care about interrupting me. I put down the pages and faced the zebra. This one…-wow. There was something wrong with his face. I didn’t know what made a person's face. I had always liked to think Cadance took effort to sculpt every face with her own hooves and magic. For the sake of metaphor, I would continue to think that. In this zebra’s case, Cadance sculpted his face by smashing into it with a hammer at odd angles. Judging from the way his back leg dangled, she must have hit that as well.

He smiled and turned away from me. “Sorry. Is that better?”

Guilt pierced me like an arrow. I sighed. I put a hoof on my chest and made a circle. Just in case he knew hoof language.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know how I look.” He reached one of his hooves through the bars. Despite his stripes being auburn, the hoof was blackened. By the smell, I guessed it was from soot. “Hephaestus.”

I touched my hoof to his.

“What were you reading?”

I shrugged.

“Oh, right. You’re the one with the scar. I’m sorry for being so talkative.”

I shook my head and waved my hoof. There wasn’t a need to apologize.

Hephaestus stood and began to pace around his side of the room. “I’m sure you’re sick of my apologizing, but I truly am sorry for what my sister did. If it makes you feel better, she was protecting you. Our brother would have been far worse.”

I snorted.

He smiled apologetically. “Right. You are in the Wasteland, after all. You likely could have protected yourselves.” He sat back in the chair. Moonlight dappled Hephaestus’ pelt and disfigured face. He was still smiling, but it was far from happy. “My family has been…-threatened as of late. We mean you and your friends no ill will. We just want to make sure you’re not with our enemies before we let you go.”

That was comforting. At least they didn’t want to kill us.

“Are you?” Hmmm? I locked eyes with Hephaestus. The smile was gone from his face. His blue eyes glowed under the sunlight. “Are you in league with my uncle Hades?”

Who in the fuck was Hades? There was that word again. Fuck. Now I was using it outside of high pressure situations. I was becoming a regular member of Wasteland society. I shook my head.

Hephaestus relaxed. “I’m glad to hear it. It would be a shame to have to kill such a pretty mare.”

Did he just refer to me as a pretty mare? I considered that for a moment until I noticed he was no longer looking at me. Hephaestus’ eyes were focused on Packrat. I instinctively stepped in-between them.

He shrank back and turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you two were together. Please forgive me.”

Why did ponies keep thinking that? I wanted to protect my friend from predators. Hephaestus didn’t seem the type. That was the problem; they never did. After what happened with Lamentation, I didn’t want to take chances. Granted, I had no weapon. If Hephaestus wanted to harm Packrat, there wasn’t much I could do to stop him. But I wanted to make one thing perfectly clear. I would stop at nothing to protect my friend from him if necessary.

“Speaking of pretty mares.”

The smell of flowers and spices filled the air. A zebra with pink stripes slinked her way into the room. Wow. I had never seen eyes like that. They were as green as the lushest meadow. Not that I had seen very many lush meadows, but that was the shade I imagined they would be. She flipped her well-groomed mane and wrapped her hooves around Hephaestus. She gently kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, hubby. How’re you?”

Hephaestus shrugged. “I’m okay. How’re you?”

Pink pouted. “Well, since you asked.” She walked around Hephaestus. As she walked around him, our eyes met. To my surprise, her eyes were as sharp as broken glass. She was practically snarling at me. Yet the second she was looking at Hephaestus, she was pouting again.

“I just miss you. You’ve been so busy the past few days, and now you’re over here. Will I get to see you tonight?”

Hephaestus shook his head. “I’m sorry, Aphrodite. I’m going to be here all night.”

Aphrodite hung her head. “Fine. I’ll see you soon.” She kissed him on the cheek and turned towards me. “I hope you’re happy that you’re taking my husband from me.” She stormed out of the cell. Maybe it was me, but I could have sworn I saw her smirking as she left. Odd.

Hephaestus sat in the chair and rubbed his face. He turned towards the door and shook his head. “Don’t feel too sorry for her. My brother will happily keep her company while I’m here.”

That explained the smirk on her face. Wow.

Hephaestus raised his head and smiled. “Good morning.”

Good morning? I turned around to see who had awoken. Mirage was clutching her head and groaning loudly. “Where am I?” She nodded when she saw me. “Oh, hey, Savage.” Then she saw Hephaestus. “Who ar—you!” She dashed towards the bars and wrapped her hooves around them. “You’re one of those piece of shit bastards that locked me in here. What the fuck is wrong with you? If you don’t let me out of here I’m gonna….”

I tuned her out. I’d rather not listen to Mirage’s blazing profanity. I picked up the pages so I could return to the Daring Do story.

“And as for you!”

Hmmm? The pages were slapped out of my hooves by Mirage’s tail. She pointed her wing at me and narrowed her eyes. “I saw the way you were looking at that zebra. Don’t do that again.”

My only response was to blink at her. Mirage had no right to slap my book out of my hooves. She also had no right to demand I not look at another mare. It wasn’t her business who I ogled. She sneered at me. “Because…-just because, okay?”

No. Not okay. Again, it wasn’t her business. I blinked a second time.

“Ugh!” She threw her hooves into the air. She paced in a circle, twice, before retreating to a corner of the cell. She slammed her body onto the ground with her back towards me. “Ow….”

Served her right for being stupid. Now back to the story….

“I guess it’s about time I told you my history.”

Damnit all! Fine. The story could wait. Mirage turned around and draped her body against the bars. I sat on the ground and looked at her.

“Where to start? Well, I was born in the hive.”

Hive? I cocked an eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes right back. “Yes, Notci call their homes hives. Yes, it’s weird. But we’re not birds, so it’s not a nest.” You’re not bugs either. Although Lamentation might have disagreed with me on that. “Anyways, I was born. My family had all been soldiers for the NCR an—what is it now?”

I had raised one of my hooves. Her face had scrunched up the instant I did it. Don’t blame me, Mirage. I was content to read, but somepony felt compelled to tell their life story. It wasn’t my fault if nopony had explained to me what the NCR was. I mouthed the three letters to Mirage.

Mirage’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “What?”

I mouthed the letters a second time, much slower than I had previously.

“Oh. You don’t know what the NCR is.” The second the words were out of her mouth, her expression turned to one of confusion. “You don’t know what the NCR is? Did you crawl out of a Stable or something?” I didn’t bother replying. She rolled her eyes and grunted. “Okay, fine. The NCR is the Northern Canterlot Republic. Because, ya know, we’re north of Canterlot.” Just like how the Cemetery was a cemetery. Great names.

“I don’t exactly know when the NCR first came about, but we’ve been situated in Vanhoover. You know what that is?” Vaguely. That was Lysandra’s old territory. I remembered she had mentioned the NCR and Steel Rangers, whoever they were, had taken the city from her. Other than that, I didn’t know much. But I figured that was enough to understand Mirage’s story. So, I nodded.

She raised her head proudly and pounded on her chest. “The Northern Canterlot Republic exists for the purpose of ushering in a new era of peace, prosperity, and order to the Wasteland. We have a few settlements here and there, but there’s not a whole lot outside of Vanhoover. We started in Vanhoover because it’s one of the largest cities in the north. Which means it has the most rats to exterminate.” Mirage paused to spit. “We help ponies when the others won’t. We fight the good fight. The Steel Rangers hoard technology that could help other ponies. Fairchild’s casino is a cesspool of lust and greed. And the Pearl just wanted power. No matter how many ponies she had to hurt.”

She slumped against the bars and shot me a shy grin. “Truth be told, I haven’t been on many missions. Like I said, I was born into the NCR. I spent most of my life going through training. I learned how to fly. How to shoot. The importance of stealth.” Somehow I doubted an irritable bat pony could be very stealthy. “I only got to know my unit recently. ‘Bout two weeks ago. We were assigned to each other specifically. Shimmer was a boss at infiltration. Glass was a weapons expert. That minigun we used belonged to him. His favorite thing in the world. Autumn was our corpspony. The medical supplies were all from her stash.”

Mirage shook her head. “Our first mission was to track down the Legendary Breezadore and kill it. Commander Mirror Image had watched the four of us in training and thought we could handle it. It was supposed to be simple. Find the thing; kick its ass. Keep it from hurting anypony else, right?

“Shimmer was the first to go. We went the wrong direction and were ambushed by a bunch of assholes. He got the worst of it. He didn’t even it make it to the warehouse. I wasn’t doing so hot either. Autumn was able to transport me to the warehouse, while Glass provided cover. One of his bullets ricocheted and hit him in the eye.” She chuckled. “Just bad luck. Bad luck and whole lotta bullshit.

“Autumn died not long after. Apparently we had been attacked by breezadores while I was unconscious. She refused to take any of the antivenom until she knew I was okay. She said it didn’t matter if she survived if she was all by herself. I told her the mission was what mattered. We had a duty to the NCR. Then she injected me with something and told me to get some sleep. When I came to, she was dead.”

A group of strangers came together to embark on a mission, and each one was systematically killed until one remained. That was almost very familiar. I offered her a small smile. It wasn’t much; it hardly anything. But it was a way of offering my condolences.

She chuckled dryly. “Thanks, but I’m not that beaten up about it. I mean, yeah, it sucks. But like I said, I didn’t know ‘em that well. At the end of the day, the mission was accomplished. I helped make the world a better place for ponies everywhere. That’s all that matters.”

“What about zebras?” Mirage stopped talking as Red entered the other side of the room. Hephaestus was nowhere to be found. I wondered if he had been relieved of his duty or if he was on break. “You said you ‘helped make the world a better place for ponies everywhere.’ Do you care about zebras at all?”

“Fuck no!” Mirage spat through the bars onto the floor. “Your sister shot me with an arrow. I don’t give two shits about you or your family.”

Red chuckled dryly. “Of course. Ponies never care about zebras.”

Mirage’s expression soured. She looked at me and pointed at Red. “I think he’s missing the part about me getting shot with an arrow.”

Red’s hoof flashed into his mane and returned with a small throwing knife. “Believe me, freak. I never miss anything.”

“Ares!”

Red immediately hid the knife in his mane. He turned towards the door and kneeled. “Father.”

Another zebra strutted into the room. Each step he took had an air of power and authority to it. While the other zebras had been white with colorful stripes, this zebra was black with stripes of bright gold. A brilliant scarlet robe hung from his shoulders. A staff shaped like a lightning bolt clung to his side.

Gold looked down at Ares with brilliant purple eyes. He cocked his head back. He didn’t make any further statements or actions. Ares stood up with a lowered head and slunk towards the door. Before he disappeared, he turned around and glared at Mirage and me. That would have been more ominous if I hadn’t just watched him cowering.

Gold shook his head. “Forgive my son. He is brash and arrogant.”

Mirage snorted. “At least he didn’t shoot me with an arrow.”

Gold’s eyes hardened. “I wouldn’t ask you to forgive Athena. She did what I asked of her.”

“Oh. So all this shit’s your fault?”

“Yes.”

Mirage crossed her front hooves and snorted. “Mind explaining why?”

Gold nodded his head. He grasped his scepter and held it with his hoof, as he sat on the chair. With the scepter and robe, he almost looked like a king. Pity the chair didn’t match his regality. Unless royalty preferred splinters for some inexplicable reason.

“I am Zeus. The leader of the Grecos.”

“Geckos?” Mirage cast me a confused look. “Thought you were zebras.”

“We are zebras,” he replied flatly. “Greco is the name of my tribe.” Mirage bit her lip but said nothing. So, Zeus continued. “We have no love for the Caesar. He invaded our tribe centuries ago and conquered us. We were assimilated into the Caesar’s Empire. Our ancestors fought in the Great War. After the megaspells dropped, we seized our chance. Instead of returning to the broken Empire, we made a home here. A home where we can be Grecos again.”

“And you locked us up because….”

Zeus raised his scepter high. It caught the sunlight streaming through the window. The golden staff glowed brilliantly. I tore my eyes away and covered them with my hooves. Showoff.

“I am content to spend my days residing in this village with my tribe. My brother Hades had no such desire. He’s a conqueror at heart. Our grandfather would tell us stories about the war. Hades loved them. He used to tell me he was born in the wrong era. That he would have made an excellent caesar. I don’t doubt it, but a good caesar is not a good Greco. When Hades became too violent, I banished him to the Wasteland. It was a death sentence I didn’t have the strength to carry out. Killing one’s brother is no easy task.”

I couldn’t help but think of Orchestra. She nearly killed me in our penultimate meeting. She had only spared my life because she thought it would beget more suffering than a quick death. After listening to Zeus, I couldn’t help but wonder what she had truly been thinking. Maybe she had let me go because she couldn’t go through with killing me. It would explain her lack of hostility the last time we had met. Sister….

“Still not seeing the point here, Zeus.”

His eyes shot Mirage a powerful look. “Then stop interrupting me.”

Mirage flinched and sat on the ground.

“As I was saying, I banished my brother to the Wastes. I prayed for his safety but also that I would never see him again. Alas, I have heard whispers. Whispers of a village not far off led by a zebra. From what I understand, this zebra is a conqueror. He has been raiding villages and settlements. He takes the strongest and assimilates them into his army. This has my brother’s scent all over it.

“Now I shall answer your question. I am keeping you here to see what will happen. A unicorn, a crystal pony, and a Nocti as travelling companions? Forgive me if I am suspicious. If you are my brother’s spies, he will send for you. If he does not, you are free to go. I’m giving him thirty-six hours. My brother was never patient. That’s ample time for him.”

Send for us? What did that mean? Was Zeus expecting Hades to write him a letter?

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying if you don’t get attacked in thirty-six hours, we’re good. But if some random group attacks you, then we’re automatically in with them? That’s bullshit!”

Zeus shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences. If we are attacked, it is because you drew the attackers. Make no mistake. I showed mercy on Hades because he was, and will forever be, my brother. I share no such ties with you.” He glided off the chair and tucked the scepter underneath the robe. “Hephaestus will keep you company. He’s a good son. I know he will look after you. Until you are found to be spies, you will be treated as guests.”

Mirage scoffed and spat. “Do you always lock your guests in cages?”

Zeus smiled. Surprisingly, it seemed legitimate. “Good day.” Despite his smile’s legitimacy, he wasn’t able mount a witty retort. What a shame. Some levity would have been appreciated.

Once Zeus had left the room, Hephaestus entered. There was white sauce on his lower lip. It seemed he had taken a food break. He was also carrying a tray with three streaming bowls. Hephaestus half-smiled at us. “I see you met my father.”

Mirage snorted. “Yeah. Real nice guy.”

Hephaestus sighed. “He is strict. But he’s a good stallion. He just wants to make sure we’re safe.” He approached the cell door with the tray. He carefully slipped each bowl in-between the bars. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

Mirage’s eyes were like hot coals. “How do we know it’s not poison?”

Hephaestus took one of the bowls and drank from it. “See? It’s fine.”

Her eyes didn’t cool down, but she still snatched the bowl away and started to drink.
I nodded my thanks and took a bowl for myself. Yes, it was hot, but it wasn’t too hot. I picked it up and sipped. Carrot and mushroom soup with a stringy meat. It wasn’t bad. Even the meat was quite good, although I'd rather not know what it was. It was better than the radroach meat Packrat invoked me to try. Speaking of which.

I approached Packrat with the remaining bowl. I hadn’t seen her move since I woke up. I considered waking her up, but I decided against it. She still needed rest; she deserved rest. I laid the bowl on the ground and pushed it towards her. It would be cold, but it would be there when she awoke.

I sat down and focused on my soup. Mirage and I ate, or rather slurped, in silence. Once we had finished, we returned the bowls to Hephaestus. Packrat’s remained untouched. Hephaestus placed our bowls on the tray. Instead of taking them away, he took a seat in the chair. He stared at Mirage and me. His gaze was nowhere near as powerful as his father’s, but I could see the resemblance. “Are you sure you’re not with my uncle?”

Mirage scoffed, to the surprise of nopony. “No, Hephaestus. I’ve been working for an evil zebra overlord against my knowledge for the past entirety of my life!” Silence followed her statement. “Ugh. That was sarcasm. You know, because I’m pretty sure I’d know if I was working for an evil zebra overlord.” She slapped my side with her wing. “Savage, back me up here.”

“She’s right, Hephaestus. We’re not your enemy.”

Mirage raised her eyebrow. “That’s weird. You sound just like Pack—wow, I’m retarded.” She covered her face with her hoof and shook her head. “Hey, Packrat.”

“Hey, Mirage.” Packrat trotted in-between Mirage and I. She flashed me a hollow smile. She quickly took her focus off me and onto Hephaestus. Probably so I couldn’t ask her what was wrong. “Hey, I’m Packrat.” She slipped her hoof through the bars.

Hephaestus touched hooves with her. “Hephaestus. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I can say the same thing. You’re cute as fuck.”

He flushed and turned away. “You’re just saying that….”

Yes, she was. I didn’t think that because of Hephaestus’ deformities. I wasn’t that cruel. I could tell by her tone. Packrat usually sounded jovial when she was flirting. Possibly even a bit sultry, although sultry really wasn’t her style. This sounded forced. That didn’t sound like Packrat either. If my short time with her had taught me anything, it was that Packrat was forthright and honest. She wasn’t the type to be flirtatious as a means of getting what she wanted. She wasn’t Lysandra.

What was going on inside her head?

“Heph—can I call you Heph?” He nodded. “Heph, I’m from Boulder Springs. It’s a community not too far from here. And, um, hate to burst your bubble, but we don’t have any evil zebra overlords. We have Azreal; he’s a zebra. Some ponies might think he’s kind of evil. I don’t; I love Azreal. But he’s for sure not an overlord. The closest thing to an overlord I have is Mom.”

Hephaestus cast his eyes to the ground. “Your parent is your overlord? I know what that’s like….”

Packrat nodded. “Well, um, maybe Mom and your dad could meet each other. We don’t have to be enemies. Our town is full of mercenaries. If you, um, paid them, I’m sure they’d be willing to give you guys some protection.”

“Paying for protection? That’s extortion.”

She emphatically shook her head. “No! Not that kind of paying for protection. We won’t hurt you if you don’t pay us. Just a few extra bodies around in case shit happens.” She slumped to the ground. “Like I said to your sister and your brothers. I don’t want to hurt people.” For a moment, I saw her eyes flicker towards me. I noticed the same steely glint they had when she looked at Looker. “Not unless they hurt me or my friends first.”

I couldn’t help but flinch. What was with that look. Before I could attempt to ask her, she was looking at Hephaestus again. “How much longer are we going to be stuck in here?”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. It’s not my decision.”

“Yeah, but.” She looked to her left, and then to her right. She then leaned forward and whispered, although it wasn’t very quiet. “I have to…-ya know. I gotta go. Could you let me out for that?”

His turned even redder. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you out. I know. I’ll get you a bucket.” He ran so quickly out of the room he almost tripped.

Now that he was gone, Packrat couldn’t ignore me. I tapped her on the shoulder. She didn’t look at me. I tapped her again. Still, she ignored me. I looked at Mirage. Her expression was as confused as mine. I shrugged. Mirage shrugged too. “Packrat?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Um.” Mirage pointed towards me. “Him.”

Packrat titled her head. “Um, him who?”

“Ugh….” Mirage slapped her face again. “You know what? Fuck this.” She used her wings to turn Packrat until Packrat and I were facing each other. “There. Happy? Don’t answer. I don’t care. You two clearly have shit to work out. And I’d rather you get it done soon. ‘Cause I for one don’t want to be caught up in whatever this is any longer than I have to.” She trotted towards a corner of the cell and slammed herself down. “Ow.”

Packrat wasn’t looking at me. She was deliberately looking at the ground. I gently touched my hoof to her chin. I was about to raise her chin so I could look at her, but she slapped my hoof away. I recoiled and rubbed my hoof. That was surprisingly hard. Packrat kept her head down, and her tears splashed against the ground. “I’m not stupid.”

What?

“I’m not stupid, Savage. I might act like it sometimes, but I’m not stupid. I know what you did to my friends.”

“When I woke up here and I saw you, I saw them too. Duststorm kept yelling at me to kill you. She was saying I was a terrible friend for not avenging her. She said I should have done it days ago.” Packrat closed her eyes and sniffled. “But I couldn’t. You never attacked me, and I only kill in self-defense. Not only that. But you saved me from the hellhound. I couldn’t just kill you after that. And then we became friends. And then you saved me from Lamentation. I don’t want to, Savage.” She opened her teary eyes and looked at me. “Please believe me. I never wanted to kill you.

“But I just keep hearing Duststorm. And Moonscape. She keeps telling me that I need to die because I killed her. My friend is telling me to go kill myself…. Then there’s Lamentation. I keep seeing his body.” Packrat started to shake. “He looks at me. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me, Savage. Like I’m a piece of meat. He licks his lips. He winks and grins. And I CAN’T TAKE IT!”

Packrat turned away from me and sobbed into her hooves. “I can’t take being stuck in here! I can’t do anything besides think. I think about Dust and Spy. About Moon. And about him. And every time I think about time I just want to…-I don’t know. I used to love having sex. Now just thinking about it scares me. Will the next pony do that to me? Have other ponies done it to me before? What would he have done if I woke up? What would I have done?

“I want to get out of here. I need to get out of here.” Packrat hugged herself and began to rock back and forth. “I’m sorry, Savage. I can’t look at you right now. Not with all the ponies in my head.”

I sincerely had no idea what I should do. I had killed her friends. Packrat had every right to be angry with me. I’d rather she not hear voices calling for my demise, but I didn’t blame her for it. The venom did bizarre things to the mind. I wanted to let her know everything was okay between us, but she couldn’t even look at me right now. That made communicating incredibly difficult. I doubted hugging her would be a good idea. For all I knew, that could cause her to snap.

Hang on a moment. I still had paper. I removed a piece of paper from my bag and…-they took my pens. Damn. They must have considered it a weapon. There went that idea. I was back to having no way of talking to her. To tell her I was sorry for what happened to her friends. That killing Moonscape wasn’t her fault. The monster she killed wasn’t the friend she once knew. No matter what Lamentation did, she wasn’t just a piece of meat for him to enjoy. That I had no ill will towards her. She was my friend. I needed to let her know!

I spun around and bashed my head against the metal bars of the cage. I only did so once. The immense pain in my head prevented me from trying a second time. I landed on my rump and rubbed my head. My head wouldn’t stop ringing. Note to self: banging my head against metal was not a good way to vent my frustration.

Something clattered to the floor. I turned to see Hephaestus dropping a metal bucket. “Are you okay?”

I cast a glance towards Packrat. She still wasn’t looking at me. She was significantly more focused on her soup. At least she was eating. I gave Hephaestus a nod. My head was still angry with me, but I was okay. I supposed I was like Packrat. I just needed a bit of time. I could think of one great way to pass the time.

***

“You won’t get away with this, Ahuizotl!” Daring struggled, but the ropes binding her refused to loosen.

Ahuizotl laughed and petted the snow-white cat resting in his lap. He sat in an elevated chair and looked at Daring and the Shadowbolts with glee. In his tail rested the meteorite. It was roughly the size of a buckball. Maybe it was the way the sunlight struck it, but the meteorite had an unnatural glint to it. Ahuizotl tossed the meteorite into the air. He caught it with his tail and repeated the process. “Ahhh, Daring Do. I already have.”

He jinxed it. That means I’m getting out of this for sure. The question is how. Daring stopped struggling to observe her surroundings. She had been laid onto a table and tied up. Clover and X were strapped to the tables on her left, while Twin laid on her right. At the base of Daring’s table was a large pile of dynamite. The dynamite was attached to a long fuse. This side of the octahedron had a glass ceiling. The edge of the fuse was beneath a glass pane. If the sun was in the right position, it could light the fuse. And then it’s bomb voyage.

Daring leaned forward as far as she could. She tried to bite down on the rope, but she couldn’t reach far enough. She tried again and again, but each time resulted in failure. They’re usually not this tight. Ahuizotl’s really outdone himself this time.

“What do we do?”

“Don’t panic. Stay calm. There’s a way out. There’s always a way out.”

Ahuizotl caught the meteor one more time. He slipped it onto his lap, beside his cat, and began to laugh. “Not this time, Daring Do. This time you won’t survi—”

A bullet tore through Ahuizotl’s head. The cat on his lap screeched and jumped onto the ground. It scampered off, as its master’s head was struck again. And again. And again. Daring watched in horror as Ahuizotl was murdered in front of her. His body slumped and fell out of the chair. He fell onto the fuse and snuffed the recently lit flame.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same thing about you.”

Daring turned towards the speaker. A pony clothed in Shadowbolt barding emerged from behind the large chair. The pony gripped a sleek black pistol made of clouds. She unloaded a spent clip and replenished her pistol. She arched her back, which caused a loud pop. Daring noticed the 007 on the Shadowbolt’s barding. "Fuck me, it was cramped down there." She cracked her neck and turned her head towards Daring. “So that’s where you've been.” Prism turned her head and surveyed the other captives. “He captured all three of you? Do you have no pride?”

Prism grabbed the meteorite and stowed it in her saddlebag. She then flew down to the tables. She started with X and untied everypony. She left Daring for last. Even though she couldn’t see Prism’s face, Daring felt the smug expression underneath the mask. “Hello, Ms. Do. Need some help?”

“You didn’t have to kill him.”

“No? Well, forgive me if I seem rude.” Prism cut through Daring’s bonds with a large knife. “But not killing him didn’t seem to do you any favors, now did it? And, if you had killed him years ago, you could have prevented numerous possible catastrophes.”

Daring sat up. She knew she should have thanked Prism for helping her, but she was too indignant. “I prevented the catastrophes anyways.”

“That’s beside the point.” Prism placed her knife in its sheath. “The point is, keeping Ahuizotl alive for so long created a threat. He’s been a liability to Equestria since Celestia knows when. You’ve kept that liability in check for a long time. Congratulations. But what happens when you don’t? What happens when he discovers some ancient cursed artifact that causes massive floods? Or one that leads to a volcanic eruption? Or one that creates zombies?”

X shivered. “There’s a zombie artifact?”

Prism ignored him. “The point is, Ms. Do, letting your enemy live is rarely a good decision. I already told you, my job isn’t to make you feel comfortable. My job is to get the meteorite and return to Equestria.” She tapped the space in her bag where the meteorite resided. “Step one is complete. If you’d be so kind as to get that stick out of your ass, I’d be happy to start step two.”

Daring Do punched her. She punched her right in the face. Prism’s head turned with the impact. She staggered backwards a couple of steps. The other Shadowbolts braced themselves, but Prism held up a hoof. “At ease.” Prism rubbed her face. “That was a good hit. You are one tough bitch, Ms. Do.” Prism stepped forward and pressed her face close to Daring’s. “So am I. The first one is free. But I swear I will bring down the full power and authority of the Ministry of Awesome if you touch me again before we get this meteorite back home.”

“What about after?”

Prism responded by doing something Daring wasn’t expecting. She removed her mask. Her lips stretched into one of the widest grins Daring Do had ever seen. “If you ever want to find out which bitch is tougher, look me up. I’d love to go a few rounds with you.”

“I’d love to see that,” X muttered.

Twin leaned towards him. “My money is on Prism.”

“You’re on.”

Daring groaned and walked past Prism. “Come on. We have the meteor. Let’s just go.”

Prism laughed and put her mask back on. “Whatever you say, Ms. Do.”

***

That was it? It seemed I had reached the end of the pages I had. Oh well. That was fun while it lasted. Though the ending was a bit abrupt.

“How was the book?”

I turned towards Mirage. She was sitting near the cell door. Packrat was sitting in the corner. I couldn’t tell if she was feigning sleep or not. Hephaestus was nowhere to be found. The door to the other side of the room was open. Moonlight streamed through the window, and graced the room with its presence.

I shrugged. It wasn’t much of a book. Though I had enjoyed what I read. I wondered if there were more pages scattered across Equestria. Maybe some of them told the tale of Daring and Prism’s duel. I had seen Shadowbolt barding with a 007 before. I supposed I could ask Prism herself.

Actually, something just occurred to me. The meteorite had been described peculiarly. Something about it having an unnatural glint to it or the like. That was how I described Glimmer. Could Glimmer and its special bullets have been forged from the meteor? That was my current suspicion. It didn’t matter in the long run where Glimmer came from, but I would love to know more about the weapon in my possession. How many bullets were made? Where could I find them? Most importantly, how was a bullet able to take out a hellhound without puncturing its flesh?

My train of thought crashed when Mirage tapped on the bars. “While we’re talking about stories, what’s yours?”

I’m sorry?

She rolled her whole head at my silence. “I told you my story. Packrat told you about what’s going on in her head. What about you? Savage.” She seemed to relish the word. Oddly, I couldn’t tell if she was saying my new name with malice or amusement. “That sounds like a name with some history. How’d you get it?”

All things being fair, I supposed I should give her some explanation. I didn’t owe her any, but it would be nice. After what happened with Lamentation, I was sure she wanted to know more about me. Both for what I did to him and out of fear I would be just as bad. Especially with a name like Savage.

I wrapped one of my hooves around my neck and dramatized twisting my neck. It was the truth. Savage was born when I killed Joab.

Mirage’s face soured. She scratched the side of her cheek with her wing. “What’d he do? Or she, I guess?”

I trotted towards Packrat. I placed my hoof over her head to indicate her short stature. “Unicorn?” I shook my head. I placed my other front hoof around her rump. I then moved my hooves away from Packrat, but I kept them at a similar distance. “The size of Packrat…-oh, a small pon—a foal!” She sat upright and smiled for a moment. Then the realization dawned on her, and she shrank back down. “He raped a foal?”

I shook my head. I mimed aiming a rifle and shooting it.

“He killed a foal?”

I nodded.

“Your foal?”

I shook my head.

“Do you want a foal?”

I didn’t answer right away. Partly because this line of questioning was becoming a tad personal. In all actuality, it was because I didn’t really know. I had wanted a foal with Lyra. If everypony had made it across the border, I had no doubt we would have adopted Missile. I only wanted a foal so I could start a family with her. It seemed traditional. With Lyra out of the picture, I wasn’t as keen on the idea. Besides, the Equestrian Wasteland was no place to be raising a foal. Ultimately, I shook my head.

“Fair enough.” Mirage looked away, but I noticed her tail was fidgeting. Clearly this conversation wasn’t finished. “Soooooooo….” Just spit it out already. “You and Packrat. Are you two a thing?”

Not this again. The answer was still no. I doubted the answer could ever be yes since she wasn’t even looking at me right now. I shook my head. The corner of Mirage’s lip twitched into a smile. It disappeared quickly, but I knew what I saw.

“Do you have a special somepony?”

Not anymore. I shook my head again. Again, I noticed Mirage’s small smile. Although it was bigger this time. What was she so happy about? I raised my eyebrow at her. She didn’t say anything. She either didn’t notice me, or she was pretending not to. What was going on in that head of hers?

I was too distracted by clopping hooves to press the matter. Hephaestus burst into the room huffing and puffing. Goodness gracious, what was it n—oh. He was bleeding from a cut above his eye and a busted lip. A very familiar battle saddle rested upon on his back, along with a host of other familiar weapons.

Mirage’s eyes lit up. “You’re letting us out?!”

Hephaestus slumped and our weapons fell onto the ground. Thankfully none of them discharged. He clutched his chest and violently coughed. “Need help…-trust you…-please.” He produced a small white key, I could swear if was made from bone, and opened the door.

Mirage dashed out of the cell. She immediately started putting on her hoof claws. She shot me a sideways glance. “Don’t just stand there. Let’s get our stuff and go.”

Really? What was all that about the NCR fighting to make the Wasteland a better place? Raiders were the scourge of the Wastes. If the NCR wanted to make a better world, they should start be cleaning up the filth. It seemed hypocritical for her to leave them to their devices. Hephaestus notwithstanding, I had no love lost on the Grecos. They could go halfway to Tartarus as far as I was concerned. I wouldn’t mind if some of them made the full journey. But I knew Packrat wouldn’t just leave them.

I approached the stash of weapons. I had no desire to put my life on the line for the Grecos, but I could help them by providing sniper cover. If we fought for them, they would have no reason to kill us once the raiders were repelled. I knew Hephaestus would stand up for us. I removed Savage from the battle saddle. The battle saddle would just make movement awkward. Memento could sit this battle out. I walked towards the window and took my position.

There was an all-out brawl outside. The zebras’ assailants hid their faces and bodies behind long black cloaks. Their legs were visible, and I noticed all of their hooves were white with ash. One of them was wielding a hammer in his mouth. He was smaller than the rest, but I noticed he was the one barking orders and making gestures. He was the leader. If I wanted to prove to the Grecos I was on their side, that was the pony I would have to kill.

“Come on. You’re not serious, are you?” I shot Mirage a look; one that made her flinch. “You’re actually goddamn serious.” She shook her head and started muttering to herself. She grabbed her shotgun and marched outside. “If I die out here, I’m blaming you, Savage!” She took off into the air and disappeared from sight.

Back to my target. He had vanished from his previous spot. In his place, I watched Ares struggle against something much bigger than him. It was too large to be a pony. Whatever it was, it seemed to be winning. It knocked Ares to the ground. It was about to step on his head. I fired a shot at its hoof. Savage’s bullet grazed the creature’s hoof. The bullet cut a line through the ash, revealing the auburn fur beneath.

The bullet distracted the creature enough for Ares to get onto his hooves and escape. Now where was the leader? Ah, there. He was swinging his hammer around; I assumed he was building momentum. A scrawny zebra ran around him. Unlike the others, this zebra was actually black and white. Were his stripes white, or were they black? Either way, this zebra was ridiculously fast. He was a blur when he ran. That was a good thing for him, as it decreased the likelihood of being hit by the hammer. Of course, since I couldn’t see him, I risked shooting him if I fired. That wouldn’t get me into the Greco’s good graces.

New plan. Cover Mirage. I found her flying above the battlefield. She was locked in a shotgun duel with one of the assailants. I could tell this one was a unicorn since it was using levitation to hold its shotgun. The glow around the shotgun was a dull mustard-yellow. That was familiar somehow.

It was likely the color of some raider’s magic. I should just shoot him in the head….-no. I couldn’t. It wasn’t a raider. Something inside of me was sure it wasn’t a raider. Lyra’s magic was yellow, but this was a different shade. Maybe that was the connection. Shades be damned, a yellow aura brought out my sentimentality. Fine. I’d aim for the shoulder then. Mirage could get the kill.

I fired a shot into the assailant’s shoulder.

The unicorn howled in pain. The sound was familiar too. I definitely knew this pony from somewhere. The shot knocked him off balance, and he fell to the ground. He quickly got to his hooves and started hopping around. “Owww. Motherfucking fuck!”

Carbine?

No. It couldn’t be. He was supposed to be a prisoner somewhere. He was supposed to be cracking jokes while his captors taunted him. Now he had become a raider. It was almost fitting. When I had first met him, I thought him no better than a vicious raider. I knew him better than that now. He had ponies he had genuinely loved. Raiders didn’t love. I was damn sure Lysandra loved nopony but herself. I didn’t know who these assailants were, but they were more than simple raiders.

Despite my shock, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Whoever these white hooved ponies were, Carbine had found a place among them. I didn’t have to save him anymore. I was free to do with my life as I pleased. I was no longer resigned to following Packrat in hopes of securing a rescue party.

Wait a moment. Packrat? I hadn’t seen her on the battlefield. She wanted to get outside even more than Mirage had. I wondered if she was still asleep. I received my answer in the form of a sound.

Click.

“Damnit.”

I dropped Savage and whipped around. Packrat was sitting with her back to me. Opus was covered in green magic. It was also pressed against her head. She pulled the trigger. Click. “I’m sorry, Moon. I tried.” She shook her head. “Um, no. I don’t want to try again.” Opus fell to the floor, as she pressed her hooves against her temple. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I did what you wanted. Why won’t you just let me go?” She violently shook her head. “Because he’s my friend, Dust! He’s my friend, and I won’t hurt him.” She flinched. Her hooves fell to her sides. “No. Not like Moon. This is different. He—”

—couldn’t listen to this nonsense anymore. I wrapped my hooves around her waist. She probably still didn’t want me touching her, but Packrat needed to know I was there. There was something else. She needed to know I was there for her. She didn’t have to face her venom hallucinations alone. If they were convincing her to commit suicide, then I wasn’t going to let her.

“Savage, please…-Dust wants me to kill you. And when I say no, Moon says I should kill myself. It’s you or me, and I don’t want to kill any of my friends. Not again.”

Then you won’t. I turned her around. Her eyes looked off in the distance, but I moved my head so she was looking at me. She tried to move her eyes again, but I moved my head a second time. She finally sighed. “Okay. You, um, you got me.”

Yes, I did. I couldn’t help but notice how warm she was. It was also hard to deny that she had very pretty eyes. I stared into Packrat’s deep brown eyes. I had so many things I wanted to say to her, and I could only think of one way to convey them all.

I kissed her. I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted her to know that I trusted her, and that I would always have her back. That she was important to me. In that vein, I needed her to know that I didn’t want her to die. She was my friend. She had saved my life. We fought and bled together. I could be honest about not enjoying my time in the Equestrian Wasteland. Lurker, Lysandra, Lamentation. I already met a hooful of ponies who were rotten to their cores. It was only a matter of time before I met another evil pony whose name started with the letter L.

Packrat, however, had been a silver lining. Her leers and occasional advances had been annoying to be sure. Her constant optimism could border on being grating. Since our escapade into the Crystal Wasteland was based solely on her desire to be a good pony, all this misfortune had been her fault. She was far more trouble than she was worth. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I broke away from her. Packrat’s eyes were closed and her cheeks were red. She stayed in that position for a few more seconds before realizing I had broken away. “Oh, um, you’re finished. Okay. Well, ummmmmmm…-yeah. So, I’m gonna go out there and shoot some ponies. Ya know. Prove that we’re not working for some evil zebra overlord so we don’t get executed and stuff. Is that, um, that okay with you?”
I nodded.

She clopped her front hooves together. “Great. That is just great. Um, tell you what. You stay here. I’ll just be going.” She took a few steps before turning her head around. I expected her to say something, but then I noticed she wasn’t looking at my eyes. I also noticed she was starting to drool.

I cleared my throat. The horrible sound snapped her out of her daze. Although she didn’t quite stop the drooling. “Um, you’re gonna swat me if I say something, right?”

I nodded.

“Hmmm. Um, well, what if I just think it? Yeah. Can’t fault me for tha—” She was interrupted when I flicked my hoof against her head. “Ohowhow!” she whined. She swatted at my hoof with one of hers. “It’s no fair for you to do that after kissing me. I mean, what else am I gonna think about?”

I didn’t respond. She didn’t either. She just trotted to the weapon stash. She loaded a few slugs into Opus and took the assault rifle with her. She had almost walked out the door when she turned around again. This time, she was looking me in the eye. “Hey, um.” She waved her hoof in a circle. “Thanks for all that. I was staring to go a little, ya know?” She twirled her hoof next to her head, crossed her eyes, and clicked her tongue a few times. “That. But, I think I’m good now.”

She jumped up and down a few times, as if that somehow proved her point. Since this was Packrat, I felt that it did. She waved to me before waddling out the door. Yeah. That was my Packrat. I was so relieved to have her back.

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Social Link. You feel like you know your companions a little better now. Your companions are more willing to defend you in combat.

Author's Note

Hey, everyone! As always, I want to thank Kkat for the original story, other authors for contributing to the 'verse, and for my readers for sticking with this story.

As you can probably guess by the footnote, I am Excitebike for Persona 5. To make it even better, I get my copy the same week as the premieres of Better Call Saul and Friendship Is Magic. I haven't been on EQD in a good while, so I have no idea what to expect. Still excited though.

Speaking of things to expect, there is one more chapter left in Coalescence. Like last time, it will be treated as something of a season finale. Crystal Hearts will be going on a hiatus, so I can work on other projects and figure out exactly what happens in the next Movement. It's way too early to say when I think the break will end, but if I know in a month's time it'll be at the end of 2.9.

Thank you so much for sticking with the story to this point. It means a lot.

2.9: Packrat's Ark

2.9 Packrat’s Ark
“Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.”

The battle was practically over by the time Packrat entered. Not that she singlehoofedly ended it. It seemed to have already been waning. It turned out the real trump card had been Mirage. She wasn’t the only flyer; the others apparently had a griffon with them. But the griffon’s weapons weren’t in the best condition. Meanwhile, Mirage was almost a walking armory. After taking out the griffon, without killing her, Mirage had been able to shout orders to the zebras. When Zeus started listening to her, the rest of the Grecos followed suit. The raiders retreated. All in all, the battle lasted about ten minutes or so.

Luckily, there were no casualties on either side. Truth be told, I couldn’t care less about the Grecos and their enemies. I was just glad my three friends all survived. It would have been incredibly ironic to go through all this trouble of wanting to save Carbine just to see him die.

I gazed down at my saddlebag. Packrat had scoured the battlefield for any trinkets the raiders left behind. She had discovered a few knickknacks: a matchbox, scratch paper, chalk, an empty cereal box. There was one that caught my eye. She had found a plastic ray gun. Owlowicious.

She had no qualms about me taking it. I think part of her wanted to repay me for not letting her commit suicide. She owed me nothing for that. I almost didn’t take Owlowicious to prove that point. But I had to take it. Just like Memento, it was, well, a memento of my past in the Crystal Wasteland. I also wanted to have it with me if I ever saw Carbine again.

I may have lost all religious leanings, but I still prayed for that crazy son of a bitch.

“Hey, Savage.” Mirage swooped towards the ground and landed beside me. “Do you like apples?”

They were okay but not my favorite by any means. I shrugged.

“I fucked up an entire squad of attackers and saved our flanks from execution.” She raised her head and puffed out her chest. “How do you like dem apples?”

Really? She was going to be that juvenile? I walked away from her without offering a response.

She groaned loudly behind me. “’Wow, Mirage, that is really impressive,’” she said in a deeper voice; I assumed she was supposed to be mimicking what she thought I would sound like. She was relatively close. “Oh, it’s no problem, at all, Savage.’ Is that too much to ask?”

I turned my head so she could see my scar. I pointed to it with my hoof. Yes, Mirage. Asking me to speak was too much to ask.

Mirage snorted. “Yeah, so what? Just because you can’t talk doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole.”

Wow. That wasn’t the normal reaction. Most people expressed sympathy. At the very least they would regret their choice of words. Mirage didn’t back down; she doubled down. I couldn’t help but respect that. I bowed to her and kissed the tip of her hoof.

“Ugh!” She ripped her hoof away. Her lips curled in a grimace; her nose wrinkled. She took a few steps backwards. “I said don’t be an asshole. You don’t have to be all formal, you goddamn weirdo.” Everypony’s a critic. Her grimace melted into a sneer. “How’s it going, Red?”

I followed her eyes to find Ares walking by us. He stopped to glare at the two of us, although he was mostly focusing on Mirage. “My father is looking for you. He wants the three of you in his tent. He has….” He kicked at the dirt, as he averted his eyes. “A proposal for you.”

“Proposal?” Mirage and I exchanged befuddled glances. “Um, sorry to burst his bubble, but I’m not interested in older stallions.”

“Not with him, you idiot!” There was the Ares I knew and disliked. His eyes flashed as he glared at Mirage. “One of his children.”

“Like you?”

“As if.” He flushed and turned away. “He’d never marry me off to some rat with wings.”

Mirage nudged me and whispered in my ear. “You know, I almost miss Lamentation. At least he was sometimes creative with his racism.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“Never you mind, Red.”

“My name is—”

“Ares!” Hephaestus grabbed his brother from behind and hugged him. “I’m so happy to know you’re safe. I was worried about you.” He winked at us and titled his head to the side. I assumed that was the direction of his father’s tent. Much obliged.

Mirage and I found the tent easily. It was the big one. The others that encircled it weren’t small by any means. They looked comfortable. This tent was the size of the building I had been confined in for the past day and a half. Rather than a flap in the front, this tent had an actual metal door. Lightning bolts had been engraved into the metal, and the knocker resembled a thundercloud. I assumed Hephaestus had forged it. I couldn’t help but admire his craftsmanship.

I used the knocker twice.

“Come in.”

I did; Mirage followed. I gasped. Goddess not above. Zeus’ tent was a treasure trove. The carpet in his tent was an opulent assortment of orange and green. He had incense burning with a fragrance that made my nose sing. His walls were decorated with horns, bones, and masks. I had expected him to have a throne, but the chair he sat on was modest. The table he sat at was also lacking in grandeur, although it was quite large.

Packrat sat opposite him. She waved at us to come join her. Mirage and I shared a shrug, and we took our places.

Zeus nodded. He gestured to the walls and his assortment of treasures. “After you helped us today, I refuse to view you as my prisoners. Today, I welcome you into my home as my friends.”

“Thanks, it’s….” Mirage looked around the tent with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “Nice?”

“Ohhhh, yeehehehes it is.” Packrat, on the other hoof, was practically drooling over Zeus’ collection.

“You approve of my collection?” Zeus shook his head. “This is not the half of it. I told you of my brother Hades. I use his tent to keep the rest of my collection.”

Packrat jumped up and slammed her hooves on the table. “Can we go see it?”

“Perhaps in time.” Zeus reached under the table and produced four silver goblets. Why didn’t he have those out already? Was it just for dramatic effect? It wasn’t even all that dramatic. So strange. He approached a shelf stocked with bottles and pulled one. “Any whiskey drinkers among you?”

Mirage perked up. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Zeus smiled and returned to the table with the bottle. He poured whiskey into every goblet. “In my culture, we conduct business after we drink.”

That wasn’t suspicious at all. Still, he was our host, and we were surrounded by his family. If Zeus wanted to kill us, we would likely already be dead or fighting. There probably wasn’t too much harm in drinking with him. Even though I still hated alcohol, I raised my glass and touched it against the others. Cheers.

***

I was standing alone with Packrat outside the building we had been confined in. Wait, what happened to Zeus? Where was Mirage? I looked about for a clue as to what was happening. My only hints were the clothes she and I were wearing. I was still wearing the CDF barding, but it looked pristine. One of the Grecos must have patched it for me. It was a good thing too. It had held out well so far, but I couldn’t count on it forever without it getting repaired.

Packrat wasn’t wearing her usual attire. She was in a dress. Her dress was an orange-brown color with tinges of green throughout. The veil she wore was dark red—a veil? I hadn’t gotten married, had I?!

She chuckled. She wrapped a hoof around one of mine. “Looks like you’ve come back to join us.”

I rubbed my head in an effort to show my confusion.

“I’ll fill you in later. But, um, don’t worry. We didn’t get married.”

I let go of a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. That was a relief. I cared for Packrat, but I had no interest in marrying her. Maybe kissing her again, but even that was a stretch.

“Nope. But you’re about to give me away.”

I was giving her away? Who was the groom? Were there two brides? She wasn’t marrying Mirage was sh—wait a moment. Something Ares said clicked. Zeus had a proposal for us. He must have offered one of his children to us in marriage. Packrat must have said yes. I shook my head with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I guess I can tell you now. Um, Zeus said he wanted to apologize for keeping us prisoner and stuff. He offered to give each of us one of his children in marriage. He wanted to make it up to us and.” She cleared her throat. This was probably a direct quote. “To blaze a new era in which pony and zebra can live in harmony.” She chuckled again and rubbed the back of her head. “Um, or something like that.”

For a moment, I saw something in Packrat’s eyes I rarely did: melancholy. It wasn’t quite the despair I saw when she attempted to kill herself. Even still, I didn’t like that look on her at all. “Mirage told him she wasn’t going to be with us much longer. She’d take us back to Boulder Springs, but then it was off to Vanhoover. And you told him you didn’t want to be in a relationship.”

Then a smile returned to her face. It wasn’t the smile I was used to from her, but after the look I had just seen, I’d happily accept it. “So then I volunteered. I’ve never been married before, and I think it would be a lot of fun. Toothpick’ll probably hate having another person in the house, but I, um, I think he can handle it. And I know it would make Mom happy to see ponies and zebras at peace. And…-no, that’s about it.”

I didn’t like this. She was giving herself away to a zebra she didn’t know, because she thought it would make other people happy. But I couldn’t just stop it. What would I do? Kiss her again? No. That would tell her not to go through with it because I wanted her, which just wasn’t true. I just wanted her to be sure she was doing this because she wanted to. I could accept it if that was the case. I pointed to her and started to fidget.

She lowered her head. “Yeah, a little. Like I said, I’ve never been married before.” She took a deep breath and straightened up. “But I’m ready for a new experience. And even if Mirage goes back to the NCR, I know I’ve still got you with me. And Mom. And Toothpick. And probably Shadow too. I want to try this out. And if it really does, um, what was it again? ‘Blaze a new era’ and all that, that’ll be good too.”

That was good enough for me. I kissed the top of her head. She giggled. “Kissing a mare on her wedding day? You really are a savage.”

I smiled at that and opened the door. For the most part, the building looked nicer. The cell was still there, but the Grecos had added chairs, a few tables off to the side with drinks, and a pulpit. An elder mare with vibrant orange stripes stood behind the pulpit. Ares stood on her right. He shot dirty looks at the mare on the left of the pulpit, which was Mirage. Like me, Mirage was wearing a nicer version of her armor. Her wings fidgeted behind her. Her lip curled inward, but she seemed more uncomfortable than upset. She seemed more nervous than Packrat did.

There was one more zebra standing near the pulpit. He was facing the elder mare, so I couldn’t see his face. The suit he was wearing obscured his stripes. Damn. The suspense was killing me. I looked around the room to discover his identity via process of elimination. Ares was up there. I saw Zeus, and the fast zebra was sitting behind him. I remembered him from his damaged ear. Aside from those two, I couldn’t tell the other zebras apart by looking at their backs. I hoped it was Hephaestus up there. I didn’t know him very well, but he had treated us well. Please, let Packrat end up with a zebra like that.

Mirage scowled when I opened the door. “’Bout fucking time you two show up. Do you have any idea how long we were waiting?”

The Grecos turned around to see the bride. That included Hephaestus and the mare beside him. Aphrodite. Right. I had forgotten he was already married. I didn’t have long to contemplate who was left when the groom turned around. I recognized him immediately. There was no mistaking those purple stripes. This was the first Greco we encountered. The drunk! This was to be Packrat’s husband? Apologize and a new era my flank. They were just trying to pawn off the family fuck up! No, that was too harsh. I didn’t know this stallion. He might not have been a fuck up. What was his name again? Dinosaurus? Perhaps Dinosaurus would be good for Packrat.

His eyes widened when he saw her. “I get to marry a mare that pretty?” He raised his front hoof in the air with gusto. “Wa-hoo! What joy! What happiness! What frabjousness!” He started hopping up and down.

He just. Kept. Going. Praise to whomever deserved it that he was never charged as our guard. I wouldn’t have been able to take it. I hoped to high heaven he had an off switch. I didn’t even believe in a high heaven anymore! That’s how annoying he was in these past ten seconds.
Finally, Zeus stood up. “Dionysus!” Dionysus pressed his front hooves over his mouth and lowered his head. “Thank you.”
Dionysus nodded. He lowered his hooves and thankfully didn’t start talking. He did keep bouncing in place.

Packrat leaned towards me. “He’s perfect.”

Perfect? I glanced at her with a quizzical expression. But she wasn’t looking at me. She had only eyes for her husband to be. She looked at him like he was the Junk Jet. No, not quite that extreme. I doubted she would ever look at anything the way she did the Junk Jet. I couldn’t deny the excitement in her eyes. It was more than just lust. While I may have suffered through those ten seconds, Packrat must have experienced paradise. At least she’d be happy.

One of the zebras started playing a tune on his harp. He looked at me and titled his head towards the altar. That was my cue. I nudged Packrat lightly. The two of us walked down the aisle. A large zebra with light blue stripes held a trident. Each tip of the trident was ablaze. Incense flowed from the trident into the air. I personally didn’t care for the scent, but Packrat was smiling.

I reached the altar with Packrat. I bowed to her. She giggled and bowed back. I then walked behind her and stood beside Mirage. I had no idea where I was supposed to go; this way I’d at least be next to a person I knew.

“You are so jealous,” she whispered.

I gave her a look. A “don’t be stupid,” kind of look.

She sneered at me. “Yep. You’re so jealous right now.” The sneer was short lived. It formed into a confused frown quite quickly. “But I’m not sure why. It’s not because you like her. It’s something else. I just can’t put my hoof on it.”

She started muttering to herself, and I thought it would be more prudent to focus on the nuptials. I knew where my jealousy stemmed from. The last thing I wanted was to fantasize about a wedding Lyra and I would never have. What do you want, Symphony? I wanted….

Packrat and Dionysus touched their front hooves together. “Miss Packrat.”

Packrat giggled and blew her mane out of her face. “It’s, um, Packrat. Just Packrat.”

Dionysus giggled too. “Packrat.” His, already high pitched voice, jumped a couple octaves when he said her name. “I vow to be the best husband I can possibly be. I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and protected for all the days of my life.”

“And I vow to consider sharing most of my vast amounts of crap with you for as long as we both shall live.” That actually meant a lot coming from Packrat. “I also vow to rock your world every few nights.”

The elder zebra mare cleared her throat. I noticed more than a few of the other zebras, Ares included, were blushing. “We Grecos have a special word for marriage: γάμος. It means equally yoked. You might have come from different places, but you are now one. Neither of you is higher than the other. The wife submits to the husband, just as the husband submits to the wife.

“But your union is more than a marriage. It is a symbol for generations to come. We Grecos are now equally yoked to the ponies of Boulder Springs. Marriage is about endless forgiveness and endless compromise. Both sides did horrible things during the war. We hope this marriage can be steps taken towards forgiveness and compromise between our races.”

She produced a silver goblet from behind the altar. She passed it to Dionysus, and he drank. She passed it to Packrat, and she did the same. “The handmaiden Packrat is joined to the son of Zeus. The son of Zeus is joined to the handmaiden Packrat.” She leaned forward and kissed the tops of their heads. “You are now husband and wife.”

The zebras clopped their hooves. Most of them looked utterly unenthusiastic about it. Hephaestus was the sole exception. His smile could have outshone the sun. Though I supposed that wasn’t too difficult with the cloud cover.

Zeus stood on all fours and slowly approached the altar. A large bag hung by his side. “Dionysus, my son.”
Dionysus turned to face his father. He flinched at the strength of Zeus’ tone. Once Packrat touched his shoulder, Dionysus held his head high. “Father.”

“As my sister said, this marriage exists to forge a relationship between our villages. Between our races.” He reached his son, and the two of them locked eyes. “Go forth, my son. Carry out the great legacy with the Grecos. And live a life worth your calling.”

Dionysus’ eyes twinkled in sheer delight. “I will, Father!”

Zeus nodded. He removed the bag and dropped it in front of his son. “Athena and Hermes took the liberty of gathering your things. Be on your way, son. Your new life starts now.”

Dionysus threw his hooves around his father. “Thank you, Father. I swear I’ll make you proud.” He was crying on his father’s shoulder. Packrat was crying too.

I smirked when I saw Mirage sniffle. “What?” She wiped her eye and sniffled again. “It’s kinda touching.”

No it wasn’t. This was a well-played tactic masked in eloquence. Zeus really was pawning Dionysus off on us. Why else would he have a bag packed and be sending him off? It was his wedding night. Tonight was a night for feasting and celebration. Defeating the raiders had been cause for celebration. The happiest day of Dionysus’ life was an afterthought at best. At worst, Zeus was right. It was the start of his new life. A life which would annoy me to no conceivable end.

***

Dionysus wrapped his hooves around his waist. “Brrr. It’s really chilly. Do we have any blankets?”

“Oh, yeah, plenty.” Mirage rolled her eyes. “We also have a sofa, two cushions, and a portable backscratcher.”

“Wow, really?” Dionysus’ eyes sparkled like freshly poured wine. “You ponies sure know how to travel. Wait till I tell Ares I got to use a portable backscratcher.”

Mirage slapped her face with her hoof. “That’s it. I’m in hell. I have to be.” She pointed towards Dionysus with one of her wings. “This dipshit can’t be real otherwise.”

Packrat leaned next to her husband. “Sorry, Dionysus, she’s being sarcastic.” She pecked his cheek and hugged him tightly. “But we can warm up together.”

I could tell from her tone she wasn’t trying to be sultry. She was married and had endless opportunity to be her usual perverted self, but she didn’t have it in her anymore. Lamentation may have died, but he was far from gone. Bastard.

Mirage tossed another stick onto the fire. “You’re being quiet, Savage. You alright?”

I would’ve glared at her, but there wasn’t a point. Mirage didn’t care if she offended me by bringing up my disability. I simply nodded. I raised my head to gaze at the night sky. The damn cloud cover made the view less than stellar. Literally. Still, it was better than the alternative of watching Packrat and Dionysus. I didn’t need vulpa venom to be reminded of how much I missed Lyra Heartstrings XIII. I supposed I was happy for my friend in finding love, assuming the two of them would fall in love. I couldn’t help but be reminded of what I had lost. Whom I had lost. These thoughts had first appeared in my head at the wedding, and they weren’t leaving.

I felt something brush against me. I flicked my eyes to my left. Mirage had moved beside me. She blocked Packrat and Dionysus with her wing and whispered to me. “I think I’m going to gag if I have to watch these two any longer. I’m going on a walk. Want to come?”

A walk? In the Wasteland? This was a bad idea for so many reasons. Mirage knew that; she had to. There was something else on her mind she wasn’t telling me. I raised my eyebrow.

She scowled at me. “If you want to watch these two be my guest.” She grabbed her shotgun and started to trot away.

Great. She would be alone if I didn’t follow after her. I had to admit, Mirage had grown on me lately. I didn’t want anything to happen to her out there. I groaned inwardly and made preparations to follow her. I didn’t want to take the battle saddle. It was uncomfortable. I doubted we’d be walking very far. I had a grenade necklace, a hellhound tooth, and a magic revolver. If I couldn’t survive with those, I doubted the battle saddle would do me much good. I made sure to grab the tooth and Glimmer before following after Mirage.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at me. “You’re bringing a pistol over your battle saddle?”

I had forgotten Mirage wasn’t with me when I used Glimmer the first time. My only response was to nod. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to use Glimmer. But if I did, Mirage would understand.

“Alright,” she said loudly. “Dumbass,” she muttered. She waved to the newlyweds. “Later, PR. Dinosaurus.”

“Dionysus!” he whined.

Packrat didn’t say anything. She waved emphatically with a huge smile. I returned the gesture and walked off with Mirage. It was about five minutes before she said anything substantial. She had groaned, complained about the weather, and then she said it was a nice night. Then she dropped a megaspell.

“After you lot get back to Boulder Springs, I’m going back to the NCR. And I want you to come with me.”

I stopped walking. I didn’t expect that. I…-what?

Mirage seemed to sense my confusion. She was scowling at me, but there was also a mild blush on her face. “Do…-don’t get the wrong idea or anything. I’m not asking you to be my stallion or anything like that. I just….” She averted her eyes and chewed on her lower lip. “I.” She started bleeding. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I told you I lost my unit. I’ll be honest, I don’t really miss ‘em. I’m not happy they died, but I wasn’t particularly close to them. But I actually like you and Packrat. I get that she’s happy in Boulder Springs. But if you’re not, I thought I’d ask if you wanted to come with me. It’d be nice to have a familiar face when I went back.”

She paused, which gave me time to contemplate the situation. My goal for most of my time in the Wasteland had been to save Carbine. Now I knew he was okay, so he wasn’t a factor. I could join him and his renegades, but I didn’t want to be a raider. As for Packrat, she had Dionysus now. Staying with her would make me a third wheel. Aside from Packrat, I had no ties to Boulder Springs. The other people had been nice to me, Toothpick notwithstanding, but I wasn’t sure I was content to spend my life as a mercenary. I didn’t mind the idea of fighting for a living. I just didn’t like being a weapon for hire.

Being an NCR soldier sounded worse. The last thing I wanted was to spend my life fighting for a cause I didn’t believe in. Even if I did care about the NCR’s goals, the whole thing sounded too much like CDF to me. An army united under the goal of bringing stability to a region or whatever the actual mission statements were. At least Boulder Springs was neutral and would allow me to support the town in non-combat ways.

Maybe my best options weren’t to be a mercenary or soldier. I could always be a bodyguard. I could travel with the Caravan and keep them safe. I would have to fight, but I wouldn’t be a soldier. I could do that. I would probably make good pay. It would also let me travel. I could actually see the world. I’d probably get to visit Packrat on occasion. I could also meet a new mare somewhere and settle down with her.

Speaking of mares, there was also Lysandra. She expressed interest in hiring me to work alongside her. I refused her out of disgust, but maybe I should have considered her. Lysandra was callous, but she wasn’t evil. Well, she might have been evil. But she wasn’t sadistic. She wasn’t the type who would decorate her walls with the bodies of dead children. Maybe the mare Packrat had killed was telling the truth when she said the décor had been there when they arrived. It made me more comfortable with the idea of working with Lysandra. She could also kiss like nopony’s business.

Of all the ponies I had met thus far in the Wasteland, she was the one most like me. She was a mare who had lost everything from save for her desire to live. She had no attachments, so she and I could build our new lives together. Besides, I knew I would rather be Lysandra’s ally than her enemy.

What do you want, Symphony? I want….

“Also.” Oh, there was more. She scratched her cheek with her hoof. “There’s what happened with Lamentation. I was scared at first. Well, in a way. I knew I could take you if you tried anything against me. But I thought the venom made you lose your damn mind. But you did it for Packrat. You were willing to kill for her. That kind of dedication is—ugh.” She leaned her head back and covered her forehead with her foreleg. “Do I really have to say it?” She groaned. “I guess it’s kind of attractive.” She straightened up and pointed her wings and hoof at me. “Like I said, that doesn’t mean I want you to be my stallion or anything. I just thought you should know that I approved.”

“’Approved?’ Hear that, Sparkles? It looks like you’ve made a new friend.”

Shadow? I turned to the side. I recognized the familiar Shadowbolt barding. Shadow marched towards us with what appeared to be a leash. At the other end of the leash was a stallion. The stallion was rather large. With the exception of his light green face, his body was clad in metal armor. He had no horn, and I could see no wings, so I assumed he was an earth pony. To my surprise, I also didn’t notice any weapons attached to his armor. I supposed it wasn’t too surprising, seeing as how he was Shadow’s prisoner. But it seemed odd to have a pony in armor without so much as a knife.

Mirage had her shotgun trained on Shadow. “Who the fuck are you?”
“The last pony you ever want to aim a gun at, Wings.” Shadow’s voice was like ice. I had never heard her speak like that before. Even when addressing slavers. Mirage flinched and lowered her gun a hair. She turned towards me, and I nodded my head. She frowned but put her weapon away.

Shadow reared her head back and laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya, Wings.” She trotted towards me, and the stallion was forced to follow. She punched my shoulder. Ow. “How’s it going, Sparkles? How’s Squirt doing? She keeping well? And what about the Tart?”

“Tart?” Mirage gave me a look that was somewhere in-between bemused and sardonic.

I ignored Mirage and shrugged at Shadow. I wasn’t really how to communicate wat happened to each without differentiating. I supposed I could mouth the words, but I decided against it. I doubted Packrat would want me to spoil the surprise.

Speaking of surprises, I was in the dark as to Shadow’s companion. I pointed to him.

“Oh, him? When I got back to Boulder Springs, I was given a job. He’s the job.” She whistled and titled her head. “Come ‘ere, Shephard.” He silently approached Shadow’s side.

Despite being dragged along like a dog, he held his head high. I was surprised to find a lack of hostility in his gaze. There wasn’t fear or sadness either. If anything, his eyes indicated he was in a state of tranquility. Lucky bastard.

“This handsome devil is ex-Star Paladin Templar of the Vanhoover Steel Rangers. Known by many as the head of the Failed Wish slave ranch. Currently known as the prisoner of yours truly. I miss anything?”

“Failed Wish is not a slave ranch. It’s a community where ponies of all backgrounds can live in harmony as equals, as was prophesized in the Light.”

Shadow clicked her tongue. “That’s what I was forgetting. He’s also a self-righteous cunt.”

I noticed Mirage flinched. I also noticed Templar’s eyes flare for a brief moment. “Please don’t use that word, Miss Shadow. It’s disgusting.”

She shrugged. “Fine, fine. I guess I owe you that much for being so damn cooperative.”

Mirage tilted her head and frowned at Templar. “What are you dragging him around for anyway?”

“Funny you should ask me that, Wings.” Shadow tapped me on the shoulder. “Sparkles, if you would be so kind to take us to the rest of your group. I have a proposition for ya.”

***

“SHADOW!” Packrat raced towards Shadow, but the ghoul stepped aside at the last moment. Packrat faceplanted into dirt. She groaned loudly. “Aw. You do that almost every time.”

“Almost.” Shadow patted Packrat’s head and helped her to her hooves. “How ya been, Squirt?”

“Married!”

Shadow paused. If only she weren’t wearing her mask. I wished I had the opportunity to see her expression. “Come again?”

Packrat giggled. She skipped backwards until she was standing next to Dionysus. She wrapped a hoof around her husband’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Dionysus, this is Shadow. One of my, um, favorite mares in the whole world. Shadow, this is, um, Dionysus. My husband.”

Dionysus bowed to her. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Shadow.”

Shadow tiled her head up and down. I assumed she was inspecting Dionysus. “είσαι παιδί του Δία?”

What? I shot a glance at Mirage. She looked at me with equal confusion. The two of us shared shrugs.

Dionysus gasped. “Μπορείτε μιλούν τη γλώσσα μου?!” He paused for a second before gasping a second time. “Ξέρετε ο πατέρας μου?!”

Shadow nodded. “Γνώριζα τον παππού σου, τον Κρόνο, πολύ καιρό πριν. Εάν είστε κάτι σαν αυτόν, είμαι βέβαιος ότι θα είστε καλός σύζυγος για τον Packrat."

“Ooh!” Packrat perked up. “I, um, think I heard my name in that one.”

Shadow chuckled. “Yes, you did, Squirt.” She motioned to Dionysus with her hoof. “I was just exchanging pleasantries with Dionysus. I knew his grandpa way back when.”

Mirage leaned close to me. “Just how old is she?” she whispered. If Ms. Do’s adventures were anything to go by, I’d say at least two hundred years. I scrawled the number 200 into the dirt with my hoof. Mirage’s jaw dropped. “Damn, that’s one old bird.”

“But my hearing’s sharp as ever.”

Shadow chuckled again. “I think I like this one, Squirt. And she doesn’t give me the same uneasiness Tart did.”

Mirage shot a glare and a frown my way. “You still haven’t told me who that is.”

“She also hasn’t explained her proposition.”

I actually jumped. I had forgotten Templar was there; his words caught me off guard. He noticed and offered me a small smile. “Don’t worry about me, friend. My days of combat are far behind me. Just ask her.” He titled his head towards Shadow.

She nodded and waved her hoof. “Yeah, yeah. We get it. You’re a self-righteous pacifist now. Hate to break your heart, but that doesn’t change what you did to that mare in Vanhoover. No matter how hard you try to become a better pony, that shit just weighs on you and never lets up. Way I see it, you’ve got two options. You let that shit consume you and drive you nuts. Or you make sure you never do it again and keep living your life.”

Interesting philosophy. I wasn’t sure about the “make sure you never do it again part,” but the “‘keep living your life” sounded like Carbine’s life philosophy. I also wanted it to be mine. Granted, I didn’t have many choices that I regretted. I didn’t regret killing Joab anymore, and every life I had taken since had felt justified. I was thankful my list of regrets wasn’t extensive. Hopefully I could keep it that way for the rest of my life.

“And how long have you been able to live with yourself after making your mistakes?” he countered.

Shadow scoffed. “Longer than you’ve been alive, kiddo. And speaking of your life.” Shadow reached into her saddlebag and retrieved a scroll. She tossed it to Mirage. “Wings, mind reading this aloud for the class?”

Mirage caught it with her mouth. She dropped it into her hooves and unfurled it. “Wanted. Star Paladin Templar. Alive or Dead. 10,000 caps. Vanhoover Steel Rangers.”

Shadow retrieved another scroll and tossed it. Mirage caught this one and also read from it. “Wanted. Slaughter. Alive. 20,000 caps. Fairchild Casino.” She raised her head. “Who’s Slaughter?”

“I can answer that.” Templar stepped forward. “Once a month I play cards at the casino in Vanhoover with four other ponies. Two of them buy slaves; two of them sell. Slaughter is one of the sellers.”

I assumed from the name the slaves weren’t treated very well. I looked at the picture on the wanted poster. Slaughter was a white unicorn with a curly red mane. She was also a mare; actually, I wasn’t sure if she could even be called a mare. She was so small she was practically a filly. Despite her size, I could feel the authority in her eyes. Even as a drawing, Slaughter’s amber eyes held an unusual amount of animosity. It wasn’t the same amount I had seen in my sister’s, but it was a close second.

“Anything else you can tell me about her?” All of Packrat’s earlier giddiness was gone. The glint had returned to her eye. I wasn’t sure if she was determined by the large bounty or the prospect of killing a slaver. After what happened in Greco Village, maybe she was just excited at the prospect of having something to keep her occupied.

“Sure. She’s foul mouthed. Sadistic. I’ve never seen her carry a weapon, but we’re not allowed to have weapons in the meeting room.”

“And her magic?” Packrat asked. “Any specialties?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen her use basic levitation but not much else. Although.” He paused. I couldn’t tell if he was struggling to find the apt words or if he had a flair for the dramatic. “She has few guards. Not many ponies would work for a mare like Slaughter. I hear she pays them well. But not well enough to keep her affairs quiet. From what I’ve heard, Slaughter specializes in…-puppetry.”

Puppetry? Judging from my companion’s faces, I could tell I wasn’t the only one bothered by that word.

Dionysus wrapped his hooves around his shoulders and shuddered. “What do you mean by puppetry?”

Templar shook his head. “Slaughter’s ponies know better than to talk too much. I’ve only heard them mention it in passing. But it sounds like she can control a pony’s body with her magic.”

Shadow chuckled. “Well ain’t that the most fucked up shit you’ve ever heard?”

She could say that again. A sadistic pony with complete control over others. That was a recipe for disaster if there ever was one. Suddenly, that bounty on her head didn’t sound as enticing. Not that I cared much for money anyway.

“One last question for you, Templar. If you don’t mind.”

“Yes, Miss Packrat?”

“Does the name Passion mean anything to you?”

Oh. So much had happened since we found Passion that she completely slipped my mind. She had told us before dying she was from Failed Wish. Packrat and I had assumed she had been killed by slavers in an escape attempt. This was Packrat’s chance to learn the truth. If she were right about Passion’s death, would she kill Templar right here? I supposed it wouldn’t matter since the reward didn’t specify if he should be delivered alive or dead. But it would be wrong to kill a stallion in chains. Wouldn’t it?

Templar quickly stood to his hooves. Shadow quickly tugged on the chain, and Templar slipped. Though he did catch himself before he feel completely over. “Forgive me. I’m just so surprised that you know her. Please, tell me how she’s doing.”

The glint in Packrat’s eyes disappeared when she blinked. “Um, how she’s doing?”

“Well, yes.” He slowly stood up. “If you’re mentioning her name to me, I assume you met her. She told me her dream was to see Equestria, even in its current state. So I provided her with provisions, and she left.” He shot a glare at Shadow. “Failed Wish is a community. Not a ranch.”

Shadow raised her hooves in submission. “Whatever you say, Tin Soldier.”

Templar returned his gaze on Packrat. He was no longer glaring, but his gaze retained its intensity. “Please. Tell me about Passion.”

“Um, she, well…-the thing is. Um….” She didn’t look him in the eye. She couldn’t.

But I could. I stepped in-between them. I ran a hoof across my throat. She died.

“I see.” Templar closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “She never made it Canterlot. Poor girl. She will be missed.” He opened his eyes. He didn’t smile, but there was a twinge of warmth in his gaze now. “Thank you for letting me know.”

I replied with a curt nod. You’re welcome.

“I’m sorry.”

Templar gave Packrat a quizzical look. “Whatever for?”

She titled her head towards me. “Savage and I found her a few days ago. We were with her when she died. She said she had been bought by a Mr. Templar from somewhere called Failed Wish. I thought she had escaped. That you had killed her instead of just letting her go free. I’m sorry for getting the wrong idea.”

“It’s no trouble, Miss Packrat. I would have thought the same thing in your position.”

Mirage whispered into my ear. “I think we’re getting a bit off topic.” She cocked her shotgun to gain everypony’s attention. “Back to this Slaughter bitch. How are we going to deal with her?”

“Hate to break your heart, Wings, but this isn’t exactly a we problem.”

Mirage scowled and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Shadow nudged Templar. “I’m saying the Tin Soldier and I are going back to Boulder Springs. The original plan was to lug him around and capture Slaughter, but you imagine what a goddamn pain the ass that would be.”

Mirage narrowed her eyes. “We’re not your errand colts.”

Shadow scoffed. “Of course not. We’re partners. Since you lot are doing me a solid, I’m going to split Templar’s bounty with you three.”

“Four!” Packrat tapped Dionysus’ shoulder; Dionysus waved at Shadow. “You forgot my husband.”

Shadow took one look in Dionysus’ direction. “No, I didn’t.”

His mouth melted into a frown. “Why don’t I get a share?”

“You’re married, aren’t you?” The newlyweds nodded. “Then what’s hers if yours, and what’s yours is hers. Essentially, you share one of the shares.”

“Ohhhhhh.” The two of them said that at the same time in the same cadence. I found it slightly creepy.

“Let me ask you a question son of Zeus, son of Kronos.” That was quite a mouthful. I didn’t expect Shadow to sound so formal. I wondered if this Kronos and her were close. “Are you your father’s son, or your grandfather’s grandson?”

Odd question. I didn’t think those were mutually exclusive.

To my surprise, Dionysus couldn’t look Shadow in the eye. Granted, that would have been difficult with her mask. But he was actively avoiding looking at her. “My grandfather’s grandson.”

“Then raise your head,” Shadow growled.

Dionysus winced at the intensity in her voice. Packrat rested one of her hooves on his, and he seemed to calm down.

“There’s no shame in resembling Kronos. He was no warrior, but he carried himself with pride and strength. You will do the same.”

A shadow of a smile formed on Dionysus’ face. “I’ll try.”

“No. You won’t try; you’ll do. And I’ll teach you. When I take the tin can back to Boulder Springs, you’re coming back with me.”

“Wha?!” Packrat tightly hugged Dionysus by his neck. “He’s my husband. You can’t take him.” She stuck her tongue out for emphasis.

“I have seniority, Squirt. I’m taking him.”

The fight left Packrat’s eyes. She let go of Dionysus and sat on her rump with her front hooves crossed. “Stupid seniority. It gets me every time.”

A raspy chuckle escaped Shadow’s throat. “It’s getting late, everypony. We should all get some rest. I’ll take the first watch.” Packrat raised a hoof. “No, you and Dionysus can’t watch at the same time.” Packrat put her hoof down.

Mirage yawned and wrapped her body in her wings. “Don’t need to tell me twice. See you in the morning.”

I rested my body on the ground. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sat down. Yes. See you all in the morning.

***

The night had passed without incident. I slept for an hour or two, took a watch, and passed my shift over to Mirage. She had muttered profanities at me for waking her up. But that was all the excitement I had the rest of the night. Our journey had been a quick one. A lone raider had taken potshots at us. Shadow had chased after him while hollering like a crazy mare. She had disappeared for a few minutes, but she returned covered in blood. Nopony asked her what she did to him. Personally, I really didn’t want to know.

Our band had reached Neighagra Falls. It was the first time in my life I had seen a waterfall. It was also the first time I had seen so much color. Cadance not above, it was gorgeous. Rainbow water cascaded into seven pools. There was a pool for each color. Packrat and Dionysus were splashing about in the purple pool, while I stood with Shadow and Mirage in the red one. Templar was tied to a post by the indigo pool.

Behind the water falling into the red pool, was the mouth of a very large cave. The cave had been hollowed into the mountain some time ago, according to Shadow. The Ministry of Awesome had used it for storage. Weapons, prisoners, and the occasional valuable artifact. I wondered if Daring Do’s meteorite had been in here too.

Shadow patted me on the shoulder. “Be careful in there, Sparkles. That place used to be boobytrapped all to hell. Anypony named Slaughter worth her name probably kept at least one.”

Mirage shot Shadow an irritated glare. “If you know the place so well, why aren’t you coming with us?”

“Already told you, I’ve got business with Stars.”

Stars? When she realized nobody understood what she was talking about, Shadow shook her head. “Templar. I’m still fiddling around with nicknames for him. And before you ask, Wings, yes. Packrat could take him back, and I could come in here. But I don’t want to. I left the Ministry of Awesome for a reason. And I’d rather not revisit that part of my life if I don’t have to.” She turned her head and whistled. “I’m headin’ out, Squirt. You and Dionysus say your goodbyes.”

Dionysus pouted. “Just five more minutes?”

“Hate to break your heart, kid, but no.” Shadow trotted towards Templar and unhitched him from the pole. “You ready to go, Pal?”

“Are you being friendly or is that short for paladin?”

Shadow shrugged. “Eh, I’m not even sure at this point. You pick.” She whistled again. “I don’t have all day, Dionysus!”

Dionysus was currently busy hugging Packrat. The two of them moved towards us, while still locked in a hug. That type of coordination was impressive. Dionysus pulled away. “I’ll miss you, my darling Packrat.”

Packrat pouted in return. “And I’ll miss you, my Dionysus.”

The two of them touched noses before Dionysus approached Shadow’s side. She patted him on the back and walked away. She raised one of her hooves in farewell. “Be careful in there, kiddos. I can’t make a profit if you end up dead.”

Mirage was scowling hard, but Packrat was smiling equally so. “Isn’t he just the best?”

Mirage rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, fantastic. I want him for myself.”

Packrat narrowed her eyes. She pointed one of her hooves threateningly at Mirage. “Well you can’t have him. He’s my hubby.”

Mirage looked like she was contemplating whether she should frown or smile. Before she settled on an option, Packrat was skipping into the cave. Mirage sighed loudly and followed Packrat. I brought up the rear. We walked in a straight line for a few minutes before we reached a three way fork. There were three large tunnels in front of us. One to the left, the middle, and the right.

“Hmm.” Packrat looked at the left tunnel, then the center and finally the right. “Savage, pick a number between one and ten.” I stomped four times. There was no particular reason why I picked four. It was the first number I thought of. “Four, got it.” She pointed at the left tunnel. “Bu.” She moved her hoof to the center. “Bble.” Then to the right. “Gum. Bu. Bble. Gum. In. A. Dish. How. Ma. Ny. Pie. Ces. Do. You. Wish. One. Two. Three. Four.”

When she had finished, she was pointing at the right tunnel. “We’re going that way.” Without waiting for a reply, she started marching down the tunnel.

Mirage slapped her face and groaned. “We’re storming a slave compound with no plan aside from dumb luck. Great plan, PR. What could possibly go wrong?”

I had to concur. Since I couldn't come up with a better plan off the top of my head, i decided to follow this one.

The three of us trotted down the right tunnel. The walls of the tunnel snaked, so it wasn’t a straight shot. I noticed Mirage had her back pressed along one of the walls. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Judging by how the walls are curving, there’ll probably be a nook just before the exit of the tunnel. That nook will give us some cover. You can run straight into an ambush if you feel like it, but I don’t feel like being retarded today.”

That was more sarcastic than I needed, but she had a good point. I followed her lead; Packrat did the same. True enough, I could see light at the end of the tunnel, and there was a nook large enough for the three of us to stand in. I gave Mirage an approving nod. She grinned back.

I could hear sounds coming from the end of the tunnel. I could hear ponies chatting, the cocking of weapons, and the vague sound of darts hitting a board. It sounded jovial. Far too jovial for this to be where the slaves were being held. This must have been a guard station. They hadn’t seen us yet, which gave us an advantage. I was about to remove a grenade and throw it in there, but Packrat nudged me. “Give me a second first,” she whispered.

I doubted I really had a choice. I curtly nodded.

She winked at me and peeked her head around the corner. “Um, hi.” She paused to give the ponies on the other side a little wave. “Um, we’re here to capture Slaughter and collect a bounty. Would any of you mind telling us where we can find her?”

There was a short pause. I so badly wished I could see their faces. I doubted many ponies were audacious, or stupid, enough to pull what Packrat just did. But if peeked around, I might have gotten shot. I wrapped a hoof around Packrat’s waist and pulled her behind cover to prevent that from happening to her.

Luckily, they didn’t start shooting until she was safely behind cover. She frowned and titled her head towards them. My pleasure. I tossed my last remaining magic grenade into the room. The grenade exploded; the shooting stopped. The three of us stood in silence for a moment until Mirage broke it.

“Everybody dead?”

“No.”

Packrat cupped her mouth with her hooves. “Okay. We’re coming in to talk. Are you going to shoot us?”

“No.”

Mirage scowled. She seemed to believe him as much as I did. “Are you lying,” she growled.

There was a relatively long pause. “Yes….”

I heard something clatter to the floor. Three guns, a pistol and a pair of machine guns were kicked towards us.

“I don’t have anything else?”

Packrat cocked Opus. “Promise?”

“Yes, yes, I promise. Will you let me go?”

“Ye—”

Mirage covered Packrat’s mouth with her hoof. “Not yet.”

Packrat attempted to say something. Due to her mouth being covered, I had absolutely no way of making out what she said. With my intimate knowledge of Packrat, I assumed she was trying to ask “Why not?”

Mirage looked confused. She moved her hoof down and whispered, “What?”

“I said, ‘why not?’”

Oh, so I was right.

“Because we can’t ask him for information if we let him go.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Packrat nodded her head. “Um, what she said. Not yet. First you’ve gotta give us some info.”

“On what?”

That wasn’t a bad question. I spent a moment pondering what information I wanted to know. The first question was how many other guards were still around? I was working on the assumption we had killed all the guards in that room aside from the one currently speaking with us. I’d find out if that were the truth soon enough. If it were true, I doubted there would be many other guards, but there would be some. That prompted a secondary question of what were they armed with, and where were they stationed? The next question was which tunnel led to Slaughter; were the myths of her puppet magic true? I retrieved a pen and a scrap of paper and jotted down my questions.

“If I wanted to free the slaves, how would I do that?”

Oh. I supposed we could learn that too.

“The middle tunnel leads to the menagerie. That’s what Lady Slaughter calls the slave’s quarters. The guards work in shifts. There’s two with Lady Slaughter, four in menagerie, and the others in here. But one of our girls got killed recently, and the other two with her got…-never mind. The point is, you’ve got to deal with four ponies if you want to free the slaves. Oh! I almost forgot. Some of the slaves also have bomb collars. You’ll need to deactivate them before you get the slaves out.”

It was incredibly lucky he decided to tell us that. If I had been in his position, I would have conveniently forgotten to let my interrogators know that. Served them right for trying to blow me up. His honesty would not go unappreciated. Unless, of course, he still planned on shooting at us.

I still had some questions for him. I showed my list to Mirage. She scanned it quickly and nodded. “Few more questions. One, how do we deactivate ‘em? Two, what kind of weapons do those guards have? And three, is puppet magic bullshit or a real thing?”

“Will you let me go after I answer these three?”

My companions and I shared a look. Each of us nodded in turn.

“Okay.” Packrat dropped Opus on the ground and kicked it towards the other weapons. “I’m doing that as a show of good faith. So, um, please don’t shoot me when you leave.”

I heard our friend sigh deeply. “Thank Celestia. Okay. I don’t know how to deactivate them without the off switch; it’s sort of like an anti-detonator. Lady Slaughter keeps it with her at all times. I don’t think she trusts any of us to hold onto it.” With how liberal our friend was being with Slaughter’s information, I didn’t blame her.

“There’s a platform in the menagerie with a shack. We always have a sniper who spends his shift in the shack. The other three spend their time wherever. I think of them has the electric baton. I don’t remember what the other two have. And I’ve never been assigned to Lady Slaughter personally, so I’ve never seen her use her puppet magic. But I’ve heard stories about it.”

“Anything else you can tell us about it?”

He didn’t say anything further. I heard his hoofsteps, as he slowly made his way out of the room. He was handsome. Mostly. His mane was a disgusting dark yellow and needlessly greasy. He was also missing four teeth. His green eyes twitched with anxiety when he saw us. But once he realized we weren’t going to shoot him, he noticeably calmed down. He looked each of us in the eye and shook his head. “If you plan on fighting Lady Slaughter, you’ll know about puppet magic soon enough.”

Thanks for the cryptic warning. Really helped.

He started to walk away, but Packrat put a hoof on his shoulder. “Hey. We, um, really appreciate you telling us all that. If you need somewhere to go, look out for Boulder Springs. We’re going there once we’re done here. I can put in a good word for you.”

He flashed Packrat a smile. It would have been nicer if he had all his teeth. “I should be the one thanking you for not shooting me.” He cast a glance back at the room. “The other two weren’t so lucky.” He shook his head again. “Sorry, but I’d really rather go.” And so, he went. He galloped ahead of us towards the entrance of the cave.

Mirage looked about as happy as she usually did. “So what’s our plan now?”

“That’s easy.” Packrat’s smile stretched over her entire face. “We loot the guard room. Then we take out the guards and save the slaves. Then we—”

“Kill Slaughter?”

I heard two things in that moment. The first were the two words spoken by the distinctly female voice. The words echoed throughout the cave. How could I have been so stupid? I thought we were being smart by spending time and gathering information. But if anypony else had heard the explosion, we only gave them extra time to regroup and come after us. Fuck!

The second sound I heard was a scream—no. Screams. I listened to a stallion’s bloodcurdling screams. There was no doubt in my mind it was the stallion we had spent the past few minutes speaking with.

“You want to know about my puppet magic?” The screams ended after a sharp crack and a loud squelching noise. “Well. How about I let you play with my new toy?”

I heard footsteps. Slow, methodical footsteps. In a few moments, a stallion appeared in front of us. An ethereal white string sprouted from his back and was connected to something unseen. I assumed it was connected to Slaughter. I also assumed this was the stallion we had set free. I had to assume, because I couldn’t identify the walking corpse in front of me. In those few short moments, Slaughter had damaged him beyond recognition. There was so much blood. And was that his eye….

Mirage fired her shotgun, cocked it, and fired again. The stallion’s head turned to pulp after the first shot. His body kept walking until the second shot forced the body to collapse on itself. But it continued to crawl towards us. Mirage growled and smashed the body with her tail-spike. I turned away as she destroyed the body. I covered my mouth with my hooves. I wanted to throw up.

Packrat touched my shoulder with her hoof. She didn’t say anything. I knew better than anypony how strong nonverbal communication could be. She was there if I needed her, but I needed to be strong. And I would be. I faced the bloody broken body of the stallion. Rest in peace.

High pitched laughter filled my ears. “Hickory dickory dock. Two stupid cunts and one dumb cock. They want to come and take my flock. But I’m protective of my sheep. And if you take them, I’m going to weep.” Her mock crying echoed. “Ah, fuck rhyming. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re gonna play a little game. A game called save the slaves. You have sixty seconds; I have the detonator to the bomb collars. You run out of time, and so do they. Any questions?”

Mirage scowled and spat on the ground. “You’d really kill your slaves just to spite us? I don’t buy that for a second.”

“Oh, ho ho ho.” Slaughter practically hissed her next sentence. “You’ll believe me in about fifty-five seconds.”

I could hear the sound of hooves scampering away. That had to be Slaughter. I clearly wasn’t the only one who heard it. Packrat snatched Opus off the ground with her magic and took off in an instant. She disappeared behind the corner in a few seconds. I caught a glimpse of her face as she started running. The glint was back. Slaughter had no idea how fucked she was.

There was a loud scream. A scream that sounded a lot like Packrat. Mirage and I shared a brief look before barreling after her. I arrived in time to see an earth pony ripping a machete from Packrat’s shoulder. She let out another scream, and she fell onto the ground. The earth pony grinned and prepared to slash at her exposed belly.

Mirage had other ideas. She rammed into his side and pinned his body against a wall. In one smooth motion, she swiveled her shotgun under his chin and fired. While Mirage was busy doing that, I rushed to Packrat. I fished a healing bandage from my saddlebag and placed it over the wound.

Packrat winced. “Ow….” She started to wiggle, but I ended that with a quick glare. Then I injected some Med-X into her. Her body relaxed, and she nodded her thanks.

“Hey, Savage,” Mirage barked. “I need to borrow a grenade.” I removed a regular grenade from the necklace and tossed it towards Mirage. She caught it with her tail. She removed the pin with her mouth, tossed the grenade into the air, and smacked it with the butt of her shotgun. She flipped her shotgun and pressed the trigger with her tongue. The grenade was hit with buckshot and exploded. She reloaded her shotgun and cocked it. When she noticed me staring she groaned and shrugged. “What? There were some puppets down there.”

“Puppets?” There was that voice again. “Those were ponies, batsy. One was a poor stallion who sold himself to slavery to save his family. There was a mare mercenary who took the wrong job. And one of them was a serial rapist. He gave me a lot of fight when he first came in. And you made it look so easy.” I could practically hear her pouting. “Yeah. It was so easy for you to just kill three ponies without a second thought. And they say I’m a crazy bitch.”

I wouldn’t say I disagreed wi—pain surged through my body. A mare with an electric baton got me from behind. I kicked out with my backleg and knocked her off balance. I ducked onto the floor to give Packrat a clear shot. She took it, and Opus hit the mare in the eye.

“First rule of slave herding, cunts. Don’t let anypony sneak up behind ya!” Then she was quiet. I hated that even more than I hated her laughter. “By the way. Any idea how long it’s been? I think it’s been a little over a minute? Don’t you?” Slaughter chuckled. “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.”

Packrat’s eyes dilated. She jumped to her hooves and started running. “No.” She tripped and fell onto her side. “No!”

“Time’s up.”

I did not hear, so much as I felt, the explosion in the middle tunnel. The entire cave rattled. I could hear rocks falling. Thankfully there were no rocks falling close to us. I assumed most of them were in the middle tunnel. How many ponies had Slaughter just killed? As if she heard me, she started cackling. She didn’t say anything. She just laughed. This mare wasn’t real. Nopony could hate others the way she did. I never thought I’d defend the True Cadanites, but at least they had a cause they believed in. Slaughter was just evil. It was unnatural. It needed to be stopped.

I really hated that we were to bring her in alive.

Packrat tried to stand, but she was unable. She had strained herself too much, and the Med-X was starting to lose its effect. I retrieved another syringe and offered it to her. Packrat reached out for it, but I pulled it away. I pointed to the ground and gave her a stern look. The kind Orchestra used to give me if I had to earn a cookie before eating it.

“You’ll only give them to me if I wait here?”

I nodded.

Packrat smiled through her pain. “That’s the kind of thing Duststorm would’ve said.” She lay down on her belly. I assumed that meant she assented to the deal. I gave her another shot of Med-X. Packrat didn’t look at me while I gave her the shot. Her eyes were fixed on the corridor in front of us. “The horn.”

I raised an eyebrow. Just then I felt something drop into my saddlebag. I cast my eyes into my bag and saw Opus.

“Aim for her horn, Savage. If you break her horn she’ll be completely defenseless.”

I knew that all too well. I remembered Lyra struggling to open a map without the use of her magic. The thought of putting another unicorn through that was terrible. But I could do it. I would do it. Slaughter was a monster that had to be stopped. I wasn’t sure if her puppet magic could affect me while I was alive. For all I knew, any mortal pony could be subjected to her perverse magic. But I wasn’t just a normal pony. I saw something else in my saddlebag. Something I hadn’t thought of using in a long time.

I removed the vial of Goddess from my saddlebag. The vial with thorns engraved on its sides. The vial whose very design warned me of what was within.

“What is that?” Mirage whispered.

Her mouth was agape. Packrat’s eyes were twinkling. But both of them looked very afraid. I retrieved an empty syringe from my bags. I opened the vial and put a very small amount of Goddess into the syringe. I remembered what it had done to Dr. Zimri. Hopefully an amount this small wouldn’t destroy me like it did him.

“What?” Mirage shook her head. “You’re not going to drink that are you?”

No. I was going to inject it. Completely different verb. Still, I nodded my head.

Mirage was about to say something else, but Packrat touched her with a hoof. “If Savage wants to take it, then we should let him. I trust him.” She then looked at me with her steely gaze. “You promise me you know what you’re doing?”

I nodded.

Mirage looked uneasy. “I guess I can’t stop you. And I can’t go with you.” She cast a glance at Packrat. “Not with her looking like this.”

Packrat wrinkled her nose. “No way. You don’t have to look after me.” She tried to stand, but she fell onto her belly immediately. She pouted at Mirage. “I can still take care of myself. I have Opus—”

“—You just gave that to Savage.”

Packrat opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and sighed. “I said I trust you. So I’m, um, trusting you to come back okay. Okay?”

I nodded and cast a glance at Mirage. The uneasy frown remained on her face, but she nodded as well. Okay then. Here we go. I jammed the needle into my shoulder.

I expected the feeling to be instantaneous. Aside from the needle pricking my skin I didn’t feel anything. But I didn’t feel the pain of a needle, so maybe it was working. I heard sounds coming from my left. Packrat was opening her mouth; there were sounds coming out. Her speech was far too slow for me to comprehend. I remembered when Packrat had slowed down time when she killed Lurker. Goddess must have had a similar effect.

Even though I didn’t know what she was saying, I nodded. At the very least it felt reassuring to do. Then, I galloped through the cave towards Slaughter. I could feel my muscles rippling with every stride. There must have been some Buck in Goddess too. I felt something thin touch my legs as I ran. It must have been a tripwire. Seconds later my body was bombarded by a volley of spike balls. I felt the spike balls tearing through my flesh. I felt no pain as they did. I didn’t even stop running. I swept my gaze over my body. My chest was badly injured, but the damage was being repaired. I also had Med-X and hydra in me. What else was in this? What else was needed?

I finally stopped running. I had reached a grotto. In the grotto was a large bed with crimson covers. The bed was surrounded by cages. Some of the cages contained bones; others contained corpses. One of them was empty; two of them contained live ponies. I recognized them as the slavers who attacked the Caravan. Shadow had let them go as an act of mercy. If this was how Slaughter awarded failure, it was a cruel mercy indeed.

My train of thought was interrupted when something bit me. It was warm and metallic. The sensation was followed by a slow motion sound. It sounded like laughter. It could have been terrifying. It should have been terrifying. But what was the laughter of a mortal to a god?

The bullet fell from my chest onto the ground. The slow laughter gradually stopped. The sounds were louder now. Somepony must have been shouting at me. I turned towards the source of the sound. A mare about the size of a filly was staring at me from a corner in the room. Her mouth was agape, but it slowly closed. A sneer found its way onto her face. A revolver levitated beside her, and she fired it multiple times. The bullets sailed through the air at a much slower pace than I was used to.

I, however, didn’t. I weaved in-between the bullets with no problem. The mare’s brow creased. She was still shouting, likely obscenities, but I couldn’t make them out. As I drew closer to her, I began to notice something odd. A large red amulet hung from her neck. An aura of magic undulated around the amulet. Even in my heightened state, I felt a twinge of fear. The mare, who I assumed was Slaughter, could wait a moment. My priority was her amulet.

I pulled Glimmer from my saddlebag and loaded the bullet from my necklace. I didn’t know if a regular bullet could penetrate a magical aura like that. But if Glimmer could kill a hellhound while barely pricking its fur, I was certain one bullet could shatter the amulet. If I missed? Oh well. It seemed we wouldn’t be bringing her back alive after all.

I fired the bullet.

Unlike Slaughter’s, it did not move in slow motion. I was aiming for the center of the amulet. It turned out I missed. I hit the right corner instead. I watched as Glimmer’s special bullet penetrated the magic field around the amulet. The bullet slowed down, but only for a second. It still had enough power to shatter the amulet at contact. The oddly colored magic enveloped Slaughter’s body for a few moments before vanishing.

Once the magic had disappeared, Slaughter’s body lay on the ground. Aside from minor twitching and the telltale signs of breathing, she was motionless. That was anti-climactic. I had been expecting a true showdown with her, but all it took was one bullet. Such was the power of a god. I approached her body. I kicked her in the chest to wake her up.

She opened her eyes. The malice and sadism I had previously seen were gone. These eyes were innocent for a moment. She raised her head and looked around the room. Then I saw her eyes widen. The innocence was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived. She was seeing the cages. The bodies. The bones. Slaughter’s eyes lost all of their power. Now she looked vulnerable. Her lips trembled like a frightened filly’s. That seemed like an apt description. She wasn’t a monster right now. She was nothing more than a frightened filly.

The effects of Goddess were starting to wear off. Slaughters’ sounds were no longer slow motion incoherent babbling. Now it was just incoherent babbling. She was sweating hard; she tightly closed her eyes and covered her face with her hooves. I cast my eyes towards the amulet. What kind of magic had been in that thing?

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

I looked back at Slaughter. She whimpered and turned away. She continued to shield her face, but her eyes were open and looking back at me. I sat down so we were at eye level. She was shaking. I reached a hoof towards her. She flinched and shut her eyes again. Poor girl. I couldn’t believe I was thinking that about a mare who shot me in the chest just moments ago. Not to mention the other sins she was guilty of.

But she wasn’t a monster now. She was a scared foal. For a moment, I didn’t see Slaughter. In her place was a green pegasus colt. Lysandra may have been able to hurt foals, but I doubted I ever could. I touched the top of the foal’s head and gently patted it with my hoof.

A faint gasp escaped from her lips. There was still fear in her eyes, but the rest of her face looked more confused than anything else. “You’re a nice pony?”

I nodded my head and continued to pat her head.

She smiled at me. “My name is Strings.”

Strings. It was a far better name than Slaughter. I returned her smile and placed my hoof on the ground. Strings closed her eyes again. She didn’t seem afraid anymore. It seemed she felt comfortable. Don’t worry, Strings. I won’t hurt you.

A shot rang out. A thin lime-green beam pierced the air. It sliced through Strings’ horn like a hot blade. She stiffened as her horn fell to the ground. I had seen this before. Missile had lost his wings seconds before losing his life. No. I had seen far too many dead foals to stand aside and watch another die.

I spun around and pointed Glimmer at—a demon. Where had it come from? I noticed the empty cage was gone. Wait, had the demon been the cage? I knew they had the ability to turn into ponies. Could they also transform into inanimate objects? That was beyond unfair. Damn abominations.

The demon was pointing an unusually designed rifle at me. It was similar to the one Lamentation had used against the Legendary Breezadore. “Move, pony.”

I did move. I moved so that I was shielding Strings’ body with my own. I won’t let you hurt this filly.
Bang.

***

I woke up in Boulder Springs. I knew that because the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the face of Maud Pie.

“Hi.”

Hello.

I was in an unfamiliar room. It seemed well-suited to Maud. It was grey; there was a mural on the wall of a large rock. Aside from a dresser and the bed I was currently sitting in, the room was also bereft of furniture. I sat up and rested my back against the headboard. I had expected the bed to be as comfortable as a bed of rocks, which I assumed would still be more comfortable than a church pew. To my surprise, it was quite comfortable. I noticed my effects were kept in a corner of the room beside where Maud Pie was sitting.

She stood on her hooves, grunted, and walked out of the room. For a moment, I thought she was giving some privacy now that I had awoken. The next moment, Packrat burst through the door. “Savage!” She jumped onto the bed and tightly wrapped her hooves around my neck. “Oh my gosh! I was so worried about you. We heard shots. And I got scared. And then Mirage went in after you. And there more shots. And I got more scared. And then she came back with you and a crying filly. And I was kinda confused. And you weren’t moving. And I got scared again. An—”

I covered her mouth with my hoof. Not that I didn’t appreciate her concern, but she was a bit too loud at the moment. She pulled away from the hug. She had stopped talking, and she was staring at me. Not in her usual drooling kind of way. Thank goodness. Her look was far more sincere. She levitated my hoof away from her mouth. “Sorry if, um, I got too excited. I just, um, well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

I nodded my thanks. Then I pointed to her and tapped my shoulder.

“Oh, right.” She frowned and cast her eyes down at her own shoulder. “It still hurts, but I can still get around no problem. Toothpick told me to just rub some dirt in it. Shadow said it builds character. They’re just being mean. Mom kissed it better though. And, um, it feels a lot better.”

Who knew Maud Pie had magic healing powers? Jokes aside, I was glad she wasn’t too injured. If Packrat was here, where were the others? What had happened to Strings and Mirage?

“So, um, fun story. When Shadow brought Dionysus back, he got this great idea to throw a party. And you know Mom, she was on board in a second.” I found that very hard to believe. “So the whole town is having a good time outside. Since we’re taking Strings to Vanhoover, and the NCR is in Vanhoover, Mirage said she’d accompany us there. Isn’t that exciting?!”

To an extent it was. It meant that Mirage was okay. And if we were escorting Strings, it meant she was alive too. The demon didn’t get her. “And Shadow and Templar are coming too! Oh, and I can’t forget my husband. He said there was no way he was going to be left behind. Isn’t he the best?” Packrat let out a long and happy sigh. “This is going to be the best road trip ever!”

There were going to be seven of us going to Vanhoover? Wow. I hoped it wouldn’t get too overbearing. That was a lot of people to keep track of. I also doubted Dionysus would be much good in a fight. Since Templar and Strings were prisoners, there was no way they would have weapons. Which meant four of us would be responsible for protecting all seven. Fantastic.

Actually, maybe it would be fantastic. There was a bright side to this. Travelling in a large group could be fun. So long as none of my companions died, this could be a bonding experience. Until we turned over Templar and Strings, and Mirage left us. Never mind. The best possible outcome resulted in losing two potential friends and likely not seeing another for quite a while. Why couldn’t I just be happy?

“Wanna, um, come down to the party?”

I shook my head. I needed a little time to recover first. I also wanted to be alone for a while. There was something I had to do.

“Alrighty then.” She hopped off the bed and waved at me. “I’ll, um, see ya later, Savage.” She trotted out the door and shut the door behind her.

Now I was alone. Alone with the vial of Goddess. I could feel my muscles twitching. I remembered the feeling of the drug in my body. I had felt unstoppable. No, more than that. I had been unstoppable. And that was with such a small amount. Who knew what it would feel like to take more?

Doctor Zimri knew. And I knew what it did to him. I was lucky I hadn’t suffered any adverse effects apart from my craving for it. Perhaps it was safe in small amounts. But I dared not risk it. Not yet anyways.

I made my way off the bed and towards my effects. I searched through my saddlebags until I found what I was looking for. The first object was a syringe. An empty syringe to be more precise. It wasn’t Med-X that I wanted; it wasn’t Goddess either. The second object was a venom sac. It was the one I had taken from the Legendary Breezadore. This was more than a terrible idea; it was a stupid one. But I needed to see her again. I missed her so much.

I pierced the sac with the syringe. I took enough to fill roughly one tenth of the syringe. It wasn’t very much, but I doubted I’d need much. Especially since this was the Legendary Breezadore. I just hoped it wouldn’t be enough to kill me. I took the syringe and pricked my hoof. Then I let the venom flow through my veins.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

I smiled. That was exactly the voice I wanted to hear. I turned around and saw Lyra Heartstrings XIII sitting on the bed. She looked disappointed in me. I could take that. I was just happy she was here.

“I know what I want, Lyra.” This was all in my head at this point. Of course I could speak in a hallucination.

“And what would that be, Symphony?” Her voice was colder than I was used to. But it still felt so good to hear it again.

“I want….” I approached the bed. I pressed my body against hers. I could feel her warmth. I gently kissed the nape of her neck. I could taste her. The sensation was incredible. I gently pushed her onto her back and mounted her. I gazed into her disappointed golden eyes. “I want to be happy, Lyra.”

“And will this make you happy, Savage?”

I flinched. I didn’t expect her to call me by my new name. It was almost blasphemous coming from her lips. I wondered if that was my subconscious’ way of telling me this was a bad idea. If so, I wasn’t going to listen. “Yes it will.”

Lyra sighed. “Then by all means. Be happy.”

Fallout: Equestria Crystal Hearts
Coalescence

Author's Note

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Coalescence. I thought this was the perfect place to end this section of Symphony's journey. After traveling around parts of northern Equestria, a party has coalesced around him for the journey into Vanhoover. The next Movement, Appetence, will pick up from here and be about the adventures in Vanhoover. I hope you'll stay with the story for that next part. Thank you to all my readers, to Kkat for the original story, to other authors who keep the world(s) of Fallout Equestria going.

As a note, Strings' amulet is not the alicorn amulet. Minor spoilers ahead. Equestrian heathens who heard stories of the Elements of Harmony and their bearers created artifacts infused with magic. These artifacts, or totems, symbolize corrupted interpretations of each Element and warp the minds of their owner or the space around them. Te ghoul head in Severance was the Magic totem. It's corruption is twofold. One, viewing Magic on its face, it emanates dark magic that turns nearby ghouls feral. Shining Armor was unaffected due to having an unusually strong will, a strong resistance to magic, as well as a blood relationship to the real Element of Magic. The second, viewing Magic as the Spark, it attracts any creature with a violent intent in hopes of using reforming them with friendship. Shining Armor kept it at the Cemetery in hopes that most violent creatures would be out of its range. And anything that was drawn would be attacked by the feral ghouls who were already there.

3.0: City of the Rising Sun

3.0 City of the Setting Sun

“It’s been the ruin of many a poor colt. And, Celestia, I know, I’m one.”

The stage was set. Paladin Pineapple Turnover was in the midst of giving the stage a final inspection. The stage was an elevated square platform. Six rusty metal posts decorated the stage. Each post had a pair of shackles attached to it. The stars of the show wouldn’t have a chance of escaping. Pineapple Turnover smiled at his handiwork. Although nopony could see it beneath his metal helmet.

“Sir!”

Pineapple Turnover turned around. One of the trainees stood below the stage. He was small, thin, and thoroughly unintimidating. The trainee raised one of his hooves to his head. He was attempting to salute. Attempt being the operative word, as his other three legs wobbled below him.

“At ease,” Pineapple Turnover growled. This poor bastard wouldn’t last five minutes against the NCR.

The trainee smiled his thanks and stood on four legs. “Sir. I have a message from Paladin Lemon Tart.”

Pineapple Turnover took a moment to look at the sky. It was cloudy, of course, but it was also close to sundown. And firing squads always occurred during sundown. It didn’t matter if the executed could see the sunset or not. It was metaphorical. “She’s late.”

“Yes, sir. She apologizes for the inconvenience—”

“No, she didn’t. What’s your name, soldier?”

“Milk Tart, sir.”

Milk Tart? So this is Lemon’s brother. “You would do well, Milk Tart, to not interpret a message’s intent. Just read it.”

Milk Tart coughed. “May I be heard, sir?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Soldier.” Pineapple Turnover’s voice wasn’t loud, but its sheer authority knocked Milk Tart off his hooves. Pineapple Turnover chuckled to himself as the trainee got to his hooves. “Look. I understand your reservations. When I first met the Paladin, I was taken aback by her…-uncouth vernacular. But if you have a message for me, I need to hear the whole thing. Profanity and all.”

Milk Tart nodded. “Sir.” He produced a slip of paper from his boot, cleared his throat, and began to read. “Good news and bad news. One of our prisoners was a bug. Fucker transformed out of his bindings. Ain’t that some shit! That’s the bad news. The good news, is I’m sending my Knights your way with the not bugs. If we don’t make it in time, we can just kill ‘em tomorrow. And I’m going to be so happy when they shut the fuck up!” Milk Tart looked up from the paper. “Sir.”

Despite the contents of the message, Pineapple Turnover found himself smiling. That was actually pretty tame for Lemon Tart.

***

Paladin Lemon Tart trotted through the decayed streets of Vanhoover alone. She walked with her head high, and her guns fully loaded. Drops of blood littered the ground in front of her. Lemon Tart followed the blood trail, while keeping her gaze on the buildings around her.

She was currently in the old shopping district. She had just passed a store that sold sofas and quills. The fuck? On her left was a grocery store: Gran Pear’s Pearadise. She could smell the mold and the radroaches from here. On her right was what was probably a dress shop. There were mutilated mannequins and scraps of fabric all around. The sign in front was of a cream mare with pretty blue eyes. The sign read: Pommel’s Boutiqueoty. Lemon Tart rolled her eyes. Is it too much to ask for a little creativity?

She started to walk past Pommel’s, when she heard a sharp crack. Lemon Tart rounded on the building and fired a warning shot. Given that her gun was a machine gun, she really fired about ten warning shots. “I don’t know who or what the fuck you are, but you have two options. You can come out and surrender, or you can pray that I don’t fucking miss. You have to the count of three before I make your choice for you. One.” Lemon Tart paused, but there was no reply. “Two.” She paused again, but there was still no reply. “Your funeral.”

“Wait!” An ash-grey hoof shot into the air. “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.” >

“Very well.” Lemon Tart turned her gun towards the sound of the voice. It came from behind an overturned work bench. That wasn’t too far off from where she had fired earlier.

An ash-grey earth pony stepped out from behind the bench. She had brown flecks on her body and a large brown patch around her nose. She was almost cute. Too bad I’ll probably have to kill her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out earlier. I was just afraid.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of if you’re not NCR.”

The other mare shook her head. But Lemon Tart didn’t notice any other reaction. “I’m not. I’m one of Fairchild’s. I escaped last week.”

Fairchild. Lemon Tart growled the thought. He was certainly no friend to the Steel Rangers, but he wasn’t their enemy either. He allowed them access to Vanhoover’s Wartime Technology Hub so long as the Rangers returned to him anypony with a debt. That included his girls. “Name?”

“Peppermint.”

What else would it be? Lemon Tart touched a button on her helmet. “This is PLT. PLT to VHC. Do you read me VHC? Over.”

“This is Knight Caramel Apple from the VHC. I read you PLT. Over”

“I need you to run a mare through the database. Over.”

“Of course, PLT. First, I need your secure pass phrase. Over.”

“Fuck your pass phrase, I’m busy. Now hurry up. Over.”

“And…-that’s a match. Describe the mare for me please. Over.”

“Ash-grey. Brown spots, a big one on her face. Named Peppermint. Claims to be one of Fairchild’s. Over.”

“I’ll get on that, PLT. Over.”

Lemon Tart waited silently for the results of the check. She could feel her guns itching to fire. Just a few more moments, girls. Then you’ll get to make Momma proud.

“VHC to PLT. We have a match. Fairchild put out a notice for her a week ago. Over.”

That does match her story. “Thanks, VHC. PLT over and out.” Lemon Tart let go of the button. “Congratulations, Peppermint. You’re a real mare.”

Peppermint breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course I’m real. So, what happens now?”

“Now I return you to Fairchild.”

She gasped. “But you can’t!”

Lemon Tart scoffed. “I can. But if you’re that against returning, I could always shoot you.”

Peppermint eyed the guns attached to Lemon Tart’s armor. “But Mr. Fairchild will punish me if I return.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

Peppermint was silent for a moment. She darted her eyes around the room.

“There’s nowhere for you to run. And no weapon you could grab before I turned you into paste.”

Peppermint returned her focus on Lemon Tart. She chuckled awkwardly. “Oh no. I’m not looking for a weapon.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Okay, Miss….”

“You don’t need to know my name.”

Peppermint bit her lip. “Um, right. I guess not. Well, I’m ready for you to take me back.”

Peppermint took a step forward, but Lemon Tart stopped her by holding out a hoof. “One last thing. How do you kill a balefire phoenix?”

Peppermint shook her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Balefire phoenix. How would you kill one?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, right. The password! What did Mr. Fairchild tell me?” Peppermint tightly shut her eyes and pressed her hooves against her temples. “Mhmmmmmmmm—oh, right.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “You douse them in water, of course.”

Lemon Tart responded by firing twelve rounds into Peppermint’s body. Blood sprayed from the holes in her body. Peppermint staggered backwards and fell over. Her face was a mixture of shock and horror. “You knew?”

Lemon Tart snorted. “Call it a hunch.” And the fact that you said the wrong password.

Peppermint chuckled weakly, and her lips twisted into a smirk. For a split second, her body was covered in green fire. The next second, Lemon Tart was staring at a bleeding changeling.

“I didn’t know you transformed when you died.”

“Only if we want to.”

“Why would you want to die as a bug?”

“Why would you want to live as a lesser species?”

“The holes I just put in your body suggest otherwise.”

The changeling snarled, which quickly turned into coughing up blood. “You know what, pony? You changed my mind.” It was covered in fire again before transforming into….

Lemon Tart instinctively took several steps backward, as she saw the bleeding body of a pony she knew all too well.

He laughed weakly. “You know what my favorite part of turning into a pony’s loved one is?” One green hoof slowly raised and pointed towards Lemon Tart. “That face right there.” He laughed again. “And the best part is ponies never have it in them to kill ponies they love. They’re all so wea—”

Lemon Tart fired her remaining rounds into the body. Then she reloaded and fired again. “It’s easier than you think.”

The only reply she received was the low hiss of her recently fired weapon. Lemon Tart approached the body. Her fire had ripped it to shreds. But she had missed the face. That was the point. She took a second to admire how closely the bug had replicated his face. It had even got the mole behind his right ear.

She reached towards his face with one of her hooves, but she hesitated. She gazed at her boot for a moment before removing it. She looked at her yellow hoof, at his face, and then she closed her eyes. You can do it. You’re not the same Lemon Tart he once knew. You are a badass bitch. A Paladin of the Vanhoover Steel Rangers.

She opened her eyes and touched his cheek. All at once, the memories of their last night together came back to her. She remembered the feeling of his breath against her neck. The strength of his thrusts. The ferocious gaze in his eyes.

Lemon Tart flinched away and let out a small shriek. She pressed her hoof against her chest and breathed heavily through gritted her teeth. Fuck damnit, Lemon Tart, you useless cunt! She looked back at the dead body with fire in her eyes. She thrust her hoof towards his cheek. When she touched his cheek, she winced; but she did not shy away.

She stood in silence with her hoof on his cheek. She didn’t know how long she sat there. In moments like those, time had no meaning. A second could be an hour; an hour could be a day. However long she stood there, she didn’t move her hoof from his cheek. Her expression didn’t waver from one of pure disgust.

Finally, she spoke. “I swear to you, Templar. I will not spend another thought on you. You aren’t worth my time.”

She spun away from him. She nearly took a step away from him, but she didn’t. Instead, she rounded on him and slammed her hoof into his face. And she did it again. And again. And again. And again. Lemon Tart didn’t finish until Templar’s face was an unrecognizable pulp. She looked down on her hoof, dripping with blood and shards of teeth. And she smiled. “But I can’t deny that felt fucking amazing.”

***

Paladin Lemon Tart stood on the stage beside Paladin Pineapple Turnover. It had been almost a full day since her extermination of the rogue bug. And it was almost sunset. Three ponies were shackled to the posts. All three of them were gagged. Two of them were struggling. One of them was screaming; one of them was crying. None of them would be escaping.

At the end of the posts stood Rector Mango Soufflé. There were two ranks of Steel Rangers that didn’t wear armor. The trainees who had yet to earn the right, and Rectors who were beyond the barbarism of combat. As a result, Mango Soufflé’s body was in full display. Lemon Tart helped herself to a look while she waited for him to start the process. Despite being bright pink, he was very much a stallion.

The Rector caught Lemon Tart’s gaze. He offered her a smile. He wouldn’t be able to see her smile under the helmet, so she nodded.

“Stop flirting. We’re on duty,” Pineapple Turnover grumbled.

“Duty? Please.” She returned her focus on the three ponies in front of her. “This is pleasure.”

Two of the ponies flinched at her words. But the third just intensified his glare. Lemon Tart focused her attention on him. There were bruises all over his light blue body. Patches had been ripped away from his white mane. It made him look almost feral. The look in his brown eyes helped with that.

“It is time!” The Rector’s voice brought Lemon Tart’s attention back to him. He stepped forward until he stood in-between the Paladins and the prisoners. He turned to the prisoners and dipped his head. “Brothers and sisters. We are gathered here to commemorate your final hour. Your fate is tied to that of the sun. It will set over the horizon, just as it will set over your lives.”

He raised his head and offered the prisoners a smile. “But rejoice my brothers and sisters. For your journeys are not over yet. You are to be shepherded away from a world of pain and suffering into paradise eternal. It is our honor to be with you before you enter paradise.”

He walked towards the first pony. “Do you have any final words, my brother?” He removed the gag. The pony said nothing. All he did was sob. The Rector nodded and kissed the top of the sobbing pony’s head. "May the Princesses Celestia and Luna protect you and lead you to eternal life."

He moved on to the second pony. “Do you have any final words, my sister?”

“Of course I do! This is ludicrous!” She looked at the Paladins. “We’re all ponies. We’re not changelings. If we were, we would’ve left with that other one.”

“So?” Lemon Tart scoffed.

The mare looked as if she had been struck. “So? So, how about you don’t kill us, and we focus on the real enemy!”

Pineapple Turnover. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before taking up arms against us.”

Lemon Tart noticed Pineapple Turnover’s hooves shaking. That’s right. Passionfruit Juicehad been injured in that fight. The poor bastard.

“Because we have to defend ourselves against you self-righteous pricks!”

Lemon Tart snickered. “You know, you’re not really helping your case here.”

The mare gritted her teeth and turned away. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

The Rector kissed the top of her head. "May the Princesses Celestia and Luna protect you and lead you to eternal life." Then he moved to the final pony. “Do you have any final words, my brother?”

He removed the stallion’s gag. The stallion moved his tongue around. “You know, something? I do.” He raised his head high. “The Northern Canterlot Republic exists for the purpose of ushering in a new era of peace, prosperity, and order to the Wasteland. It doesn’t matter how many of us you kill; our determination will never falter. I can’t speak for my comrades, but I’m willing to give my life for my ideals. I don’t know what you are willing to die for, but I know—”

Lemon Tart cast a glance at Pineapple Turnover. “You know what my favorite part of this is?”

He groaned. “Go ahead and say it.”

Lemon Tart smiled. The kind of smile that would give another pony nightmares. She stared right at the speaking prison as she spoke. “Seeing the look on their faces when they realize their ideals won’t save them.”

The stallion hesitated for a moment. “Ha…-haven’t you been listening to me? I don’t need to be saved. I don’t want to be saved. Dying for the dream of the NCR is the highest honor possible.”

“Then that means you’re done wasting my time?”

He didn’t retort. He held her invisible gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m finished.”

The Rector kissed the top of his head. "May the Princesses Celestia and Luna protect you and lead you to eternal life." He turned to face the Paladins. “It is a noble honor to be the harbingers of a better life. May the Princesses Celestia and Luna bless and protect you throughout this life.”

The Paladins nodded, although Lemon Tart rolled her eyes under her armor. The Rector walked past the prisoners, the Paladins, and the posts. He stood near the edge of the stage and turned his back to the other ponies.

That’s our cue. Fucking finally. Lemon Tart aimed her guns. One of her guns was trained on the mare, while the other was on the stallion giving the speech. She barely acknowledged the mare at all. Her entire focus was on that stallion. On his eyes. She could feel her coat prickling with anticipation. He looked at Lemon Tart. His eyes, which a moment before had practically glowed with defiance, had dimmed considerably. The inevitability of his fate seemed to have dawned on him, just as the sun was about to set.

Lemon Tart snickered. There it is!

And she fired.

Fallout: Equestria Crystal Hearts

Appetence

Author's Note

Hey, all! Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I last posted a chapter. I keep getting sidetracked by other projects. I want to work on Crystal Hearts, but it keeps getting the shaft. I’m hoping that actually posting something will motivate me to get a move on and start churning out chapters again. So here I go with the shortest chapter of the series by far. I’m sorry for the first chapter back being so short, but I actually like it. It does its job of introducing the climate of Vanhoover and the Steel Rangers before the other characters get there.

Other than that, I don’t think I have much else to share. I really liked season 7. “The Perfect Pear” is my favorite episode of the show, and I cried both times I watched it. I didn’t care for the movie but was glad I saw it. Here’s hoping season 8 is going to be great.

Of course. Thank you to Kkat for writing the original, to other authors for contributing to the community, and to my readers who enjoy this story. See you all in the next chapter.

3.1: Lyra in the Sky with Diamonds

3.1 Lyra In The Sky With Diamonds

“Look for the girl win the sun in her eyes and she's gone”

I didn’t know how I felt when I woke up. Lightheaded but strong. Satisfied but somewhat empty. Lucid but still under the effects of vulpa venom. Unless, of course, the Lyra Heartstrings XIII beside me was real.

I kissed her on the cheek.

She pushed me away. “No. I’m still mad at you.”

“Whatever for, my dear?”

“You know exactly what.” She slithered off the bed and sat down beside the used syringe. “And since I’m a figment of your imagination, it means that you yourself know it was a bad decision.”

I chuckled. “You felt very real all throughout the night.”

I was hoping that would take her mind off this argument. At the very least, I was hoping to get a blush. But Lyra shook her head without so much as a hint of one. “I don’t want to see you destroy yourself. Symphony—”

“—Savage.”

“Symphony. You saw what the venom did to Packrat. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you.”

I trotted to Lyra’s side. I placed a hoof around her shoulder. She may have been a hallucination, but I could feel her. She was so warm. I rested my head on her shoulder. I kissed her cheek again and whispered into her ear. “I promise you, Lyra. That won’t happen to me. I would never kill myself. Not when I want so desperately to live.”

“I know….”

“You don’t sound like you know.”

Lyra gently moved my head so that we had eye contact. “I know you say you’re content now. But living for the sake of living may not be sustainable. You need something or someone to keep you going.”

“I have you, don’t I?”

Lyra didn’t look at me. Her gaze was firmly on the syringe. “Yes, but for how long?”

“Long enough.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. It barely reached the corners of her mouth. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“I would’ve thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

She laughed mockingly at me. “Please. Who do you think you’re talking to.”

The love of my life. Obviously.

The two of us walked out of Maud Pie’s house and stepped outside. Packrat had been right about there being a festival. The street of Boulder Springs was littered with ponies both drunk and unconscious. Mirage was here too, with her wings wrapped around her body. I didn’t see Packrat or Dionysus. The married couple must have spent the night together.

“Mornin’, Sparkles.” Shadow approached me from behind and tapped me on the shoulder. “You feeling better?”

I nodded.

“That’s good to hear. Squirt wouldn’t shut up about you last night. There were all these stories about how Savage saved her from breezadores, or how you killed a hellhound. Or how you swatted her every time she’d stare at your flank.” She shook her head and laughed. “She’ll be happy to know you’re out and about. Although it’s a damn shame you missed the party.” She pointed towards one of the unconscious mares. “You missed a real show last night.”

I pointed at Shadow, and then to all the unconscious ponies with a questioning glance.

“Are you asking what happened last night, or why I’m not a sprawling drunk?”

I nodded.

“Well, to your first question, Sparkles. What happens in Boulder Springs stays in Boulder Springs.” We still were in Boulder Springs, so her answer didn’t make sense. But Shadow seemed to be convinced that it did. “As to your second question.” She laughed. “I’ve been around for over two hundred years, Sparkles. And I’ve built up a pretty big tolerance for booze.” Shadow arched her back and stretched out her legs. “But, after a night like that, I feel like taking a dip in the spring. Care to join me?”

I gave her a quizzical glance.

“No. I’m not flirting with you. I’m just saying this might be your only chance to see me naked.”

That sounded like flirting to me. Not that I minded. I wanted to be happy. I heavily doubted Shadow was the mare of my dreams, but I could still have fun with her.

“Fun with her? So is that all I was to you, Symphony? A mare you could have with?” Lyra was standing next to me. She looked disappointed again. Possibly even more so than she did earlier.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” She tilted her head towards Shadow. “You just finished with me, and you’re already moving to your next conquest.”

“Stop being so dramatic. I’m just taking a bath.”

“A bath. Sure. Then it’ll be just a kiss. And then just sex.”

“You know something? You seem to care an awful lot for a mare who isn’t even real,” I snapped. And I instantly regretted it. I looked away from her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I might be moving too fast. I just….” I tried to look at her, but Lyra had disappeared. I tried to call her name, but all I heard was a wet, disgusting, rasp.

I turned towards the spring and started walking. Fine. Ignore me, Lyra. Two can play that game. Shadow was in the process of undressing when I reached the water. I had never noticed just how tight her uniform fit around her rump. If only her flesh wasn’t rotten, I might have been attracted. But alas it wa—well now. It seemed I still had some venom in me after all.

Shadow’s naked body was not like other ghouls I had seen. I saw a body vibrant with color. Admittedly, I couldn’t tell exactly what color I was looking at. It could have been cyan, turquoise, maybe aqua marine. I decided to settle on mint-green. It was a color I was used to.

I barely noticed the nubs on her back. Those must have been where her wings used to be. Hmm. That simply wouldn’t do. No. A mint-green pony had to be a unicorn. And after I thought of it, I saw it. The nubs had disappeared, and a majestic horn had appeared on her head. Then she turned towards me. I saw her eyes. The same sun-gold color I knew and loved.

“Hello again, Lyra.”

She nickered. “It’s rude to stare, Sparkles.” The words were Shadow’s; the voice was Lyra’s. I could live with that.

My response to Shadow was to trot towards her and coyly shrug. I simply smiled at Lyra.

I wasn’t sure if I should refer to her at Lyra or Shadow at this point, so settled on Shyra for the time being. Shyra shook her head at me. “Hold on, Sparkles. I’ll admit; I was flirting a little bit. But I’m not interested. I took a vow of chastity thirty years ago, after my last lover died. This is just a bath.” Shyra leaned backwards in the water. Her hooves were completely submerged, while her face and chest were above the water. “There’s a difference between resting and relaxing. It’s not a big one, but it’s there. I just thought you’d want to relax after getting shot at.”

The water was surprisingly deep. I stood up straight, but the water had covered half of my chest. I swam a little closer to her and smirked. What was more relaxing than being with a beautiful mare?

Shyra giggled and splashed some water on my face. I returned the favor. We spent a few minutes splashing each other with radiation. I hadn’t taken a rad bath in what felt like years. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. This was amazing.

“The fuck are you two doing?”

I opened my eyes. Mirage was hovering in the air. She was frowning at us, but she also looked slightly confused.

“Ever hear of a bath, Wings?”

There went the confusion. “Of course I’ve heard of a bath! The NCR isn’t full of savages, you know.”

Shyra turned towards me. “Savages, huh? How insensitive of her. I think she should apologize.”

I nodded. I wasn’t offended but why not go with the joke?

Mirage groaned. “I’m sorry I used the word ‘savage,’ like that. There. Happy?”

I was actually impressed by how little sincerity she displayed. In fact, I actually laughed. It was a terrible sound. Strangely enough, I didn’t care. I just enjoyed the moment. I pointed to Mirage once I had finished laughing and motioned for her to come join us.

“Pfft. As if.”

Shyra’s eyes gleamed. “Ahh. So you know what a bath is. You just don’t take them.”

“That’s not what I mean!” She pointed towards me with her wing. “I don’t want to take a bath with a stallion. I don’t want him getting any ideas.”

Shyra laughed. “Trust me, Wings. He already has ideas. He’s a stallion. Besides, it’s not like your armor leaves a whole lot to the imagination.”

Mirage grumbled something. Since she was in the air, I had no idea what she was saying. Maybe if I’d taken some Goddess—no! I didn’t want to admit that Lyra was right, but she wasn’t entirely wrong either. I did feel guilty for using the vulpa venom. Hmm. Perhaps guilt wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t that I felt shame. What I felt was something closer to stupidity. I knew it was dangerous; the effects wouldn’t last long either. But I was willing to bear the risks if I could see Lyra again. But thinking about Goddess, as amazing as it felt, was a dangerous line of thinking. I wasn’t stupid enough to start taking Goddess yet. The problem was the yet.

I heard a loud plop. I looked over to see that Mirage had joined us. She frowned when she noticed me looking at her. “What’re you staring at, Savage?”

I pointed at her.

She was grumbling again. Although I could clearly hear her calling me a “smartass.” Happy to be of service. I laid on my back and floated in the irradiated water. It wasn’t particularly deep, so the sensation of floating wasn’t as relaxing as it could’ve been. But I’d take what I could get. I stared up at the cloud covered sky. I didn’t waste time with existential thoughts. I just took Shadow’s advice. I had rested already. Now it was time to relax.

And, for a few minutes, I did. Mirage swam literal circles around me, but she kept to herself. Shyra had already left. At least, I had heard some splashing earlier. Since I didn’t hear her speak for a while, I assumed the sound was her leaving. I thought about watching her leave. Taking one last look at Lyra’s body before the venom wore off, which it likely already had at this point. Ultimately, I thought that went against my new dogma of doing what made me happy. And right now, relaxing made me very happy.

“Hey. Savage?”

All good things must come to an end. The relaxation must have done its job, because I wasn’t even annoyed by Mirage’s interruption. I sat up and looked at her. She was facing me, but she didn’t seem to be truly looking at me.

“Have you given any thought to what I said yesterday?”

I’d slept since then, as well as ingested hallucinogenic poison, so I wasn’t exactly sure what she was referring to. My face must have reflected that, because hers became quite animated. “You actually forgot? You fucking asshole.” She emphasized her displeasure by dunking her head into the water for a few seconds. When she raised her head, she looked as irritated as she did wet. “I don’t know what I thought that would accomplish.”

That made two of us. Though there was something else that was confusing me. Shadow was a ghoul, and I a crystal pony. I knew both races were not harmed by radiation. I didn’t know that to be the case for Nocti. True, I had never heard Mirage complain about the radiation. On the other hoof, neither had Packrat. While there was radiation in the Crystal Wasteland, it wasn’t exactly common. Even if she wasn’t the Holy Mother, I could still thank Princess Cadance for keeping most of the Empire safe. I wondered how much the NCR actually did for the ponies it had under it—oh. That’s what she had asked me about.

I tapped Mirage on the shoulder.

“What?”

I wasn’t sure how to say what I wanted to say. This would be so much easier with words. I remembered Mirage couldn’t read lips very well either. Hmm. I pointed to myself and then tapped the side of my head. I was trying to let her know that I thought about it.

“You hit your head?”

I shook my head.

“Your head hurts?”

I shook my head a second time. Third time’s the charm, Mirage.

She tilted her head and used one of her wings to rub her chin. “Hmmm. Okay. It probably doesn’t have to do with your head. Maybe your brain?”

I nodded. Now we were getting somewhere.

“Is your brain acting up? Like, are you seeing shit?”

Not at the moment. I shook my head.

“Okay. It’s not that. You were thinking?”

I clopped my hooves together. Well done.

I expected her to smile. Instead, she frowned. “Don’t be so condescending.”

Fine. Don’t appreciate me trying to be nice.

“Does this mean you were thinking about what I asked?” I nodded; she gulped. Then she started laughing. “I can’t believe I’m actually nervous. I guess this is what it’s like having friends.”

Yeah, it’s the worst. Funny thing, I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. I did know I was about to feel really bad for letting her down. I offered her a sad smile and shook my head.

She returned that smile. “I’m going to guess that means you’re declining my offer?”

Yes. Other than being happy, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I still wasn’t sure where I wanted to live, or whom I wanted to pledge allegiance to. But I wasn’t interested in being a soldier. Even less so when I didn’t give a rat’s ass about its goal. Making the Wasteland a better place was something admirable; I could admit that. I supposed I just didn’t care about the greater good anymore. I wondered how much of that was because of ‘Chestra.

Mirage shrugged. “Eh. I figured you’d say no. But it was still worth askin’. Besides, we haven’t gotten back to Vanhoover yet. You’ll change your mind when you get there.”

Now I felt more inclined to spurn her offer.

She rested her head against the water and closed her eyes. “Remind me to thank Shadow for inviting me in here. This actually feels amazing.”

Actually, I was the one who invited her but whatever. The bath was Shadow’s idea. I agreed with her on one thing; this did feel amazing. It was nowhere close to how I felt after taking Goddess, but my body did feel stronger. That reminded me. Packrat had said Strings survived. I might not have cared about the world as a whole, but I did care about my slice of it. Since we would be escorting her as part of a contract, she would likely be counted as a prisoner. That meant there was one place I’d find her.

I tapped Mirage on the shoulder and waved.

“You headin’ out?”

I nodded.

“Where to?”

I pointed to the schoolhouse.

“Are you visiting the kid or the tin stallion?”

I’d forgotten about him. What was his name? Temple? Tempura? I’d figure it out sooner or later. I might as well say hello to him while I’m there. I nodded.

“I ask which one you’re visiting, and your answer is yes.”

Was there a question in there somewhere? If there was, Mirage didn’t try asking a second time. I waved at her, she rolled her eyes, and I trotted towards the schoolhouse. A heavily scarred zebra armed with a large halberd sat on the steps of the schoolhouse. He glared at me with his good eye. “Do you have permission to enter?”

I didn’t know I needed permission. I wondered who could give it. Maud Pie, of course. I wondered if I could pretend to have permission from Shadow or Packrat, and if they would cover for me later. Perhaps the priest?

“Who’s out there, Azreal?”

Right on cue. It must’ve been divine intervention. Spectrum peeked his head through the other side of the door. He smiled when he saw me. “Ah. The hero arrives. Your maiden has been waiting for you.” He fully opened the door and stepped outside. “It’s alright, Azreal. I’ll be his chaperone.”

Azreal nodded and stepped aside. I walked past him and entered the schoolhouse. The interior was nicer than I expected. It was filthy, but at least the filth consisted of dust rather than blood and excrement. There was only one room, but metal bars had been installed to create cells. There were seven cells; only two of them were occupied. One of them held a sleeping filly with a broken horn. The other held a green stallion.

“I heard about your adventures last night from Packrat.” I turned towards Spectrum as he spoke. He smiled and laughed. “Of course, she was drunk, so she wasn’t sure how much was being embellished.”

That made sense. Although Mirage and Shadow were there last night as well. Each of them could have covered for Packrat’s drunken embellishing.

“Your other companions corroborated most of Packrat’s claims. However, Shadow has always had a penchant for storytelling herself. As for Mirage….” He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s not the place of a priest to pass judgment.”

Then what was his job? Just to listen to another pony’s problems and make them feel better?

“Would you like to speak with your friends, Savage?”

I could hardly call these two my friends. One I knew almost nothing about, while the other I simply felt pity for. But, yes. I titled my head towards the door with a raised eyebrow.

Spectrum shook his head. “I can give you privacy, but I can’t allow you to be here alone.” He sat down and retrieved his book from his cloak. “I’ll be here reading. Let me know when you’re satisfied.”

He was being very helpful to me. Why? I mouthed the word to him.

“Assuming the stories are true, then you protected Packrat from that fiend. I’m always grateful to anypony who helps one of my friends. You also saved that filly’s life. I think that makes you a pony worth helping.”

Maybe. But I think he was confusing gratitude with responsibility. Not that I was complaining. But I also didn’t have much of a reason to be here. Strings seemed to be okay. I supposed I should actually speak with her. I gazed at the other occupied cell. Templar would be one of my travelling companions as well. He also seemed far more likely to hold a conversation with me. I trotted towards his cell and sat down outside of it.

“Hello, Savage.” He had been hunched over reading a book. He was now sitting up. “May I help you?”

I shrugged.

“Here.” He ripped a page out of the book and slid it towards me. Then he rolled me a pen. I was actually surprised they’d given him one. It wasn’t an especially dangerous weapon, but he could still stab a pony in the eye if they dropped their guard. If I were in his hooves, I’d have tried it already. “Funny story, Savage. The guard was against me having a pen. He said it could be used to take out his good eye.” Great minds think alike. “Shadow insisted I wasn’t a threat, and that the guard was…-well, I’d rather not quote her. Still, it was rather nice of her.”

I supposed it was. But I wasn’t here to discuss Shadow’s occasional penchant for politeness. I had curiosity I needed to satisfy. I wrote down my first question and slid the paper towards him. “Who are you?”

He read the paper and nodded. “My name is Templar. I was formerly a Paladin of the Vanhoover Steel Rangers. I currently preside over a small community known as Failed Wish.” He slid the paper back to me.

I wrote my next question and returned it. “Failed Wish?”

“Like I said, it’s a small community. I buy slaves and give them their freedom. Most of them stay. Some say they want to repay my kindness. Most ponies just want to find somewhere they can call home. However, some ponies use their newfound freedom to blaze their own trails. Passion was one such mare.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “What a waste of life. Truly a shame.”

He passed the paper back, and I returned it. “Why did you leave the Steel Rangers?”

He winced when he read my question. That meant this would be interesting. He held his silence for a while. I wasn’t sure if he was refusing or trying to find the right words. He was under no obligation to speak, but it would be in his best interest. I’d trust him more if I knew more about him. Though I supposed as long as he was shackled and weaponless, I didn’t have to trust him.

“I hurt my best friend.” He went quiet again, but he didn’t look like he was finished speaking. “I wanted to be more than friends with her. I desired her company; I burned for her body. My desire warped into obsession. I…-acted upon my obsession.”

I had an idea of what that meant. “I killed someone who did that to my friend.”

“As well you should. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. Let alone her friendship. I fled before I could be court marshaled. It’s high time I face the punishment for my crimes.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

He shook his head. “I have seen The Light.” He pointed to his book. “A journal written by a mare over two hundred years ago. A mare who believed in equality above all other things. I’ve found redemption in bringing her dream to life. It’s given me peace.”

In the end he was just another religious nut. He and ‘Chestra would get on great. Hmm, scratch that. She’d view him as an infidel and kill him on sight. One less nut in the world.

I walked away from Templar and looked into the other occupied cell. A white filly with a fractured horn sat huddled in a corner under a blanket. She watched me with her small amber eyes. I took a step towards her. She flinched; she didn’t retreat. I took a few more steps and sat down in front of her cage. I raised a hoof and waved at her. The corners of her mouth curled into a small smile, as she waved back. I scanned the rest of her cell. Aside from the blanket, she had a half-empty bowl of oats and an empty bucket. I wasn’t sure if the bucket was for drinking water or taking a shit. I hoped it wasn’t meant for both.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Even if I did, I had no idea if she could read. Ultimately, I decided to nod and walk away. As I started to leave, I heard a squeak that sounded vaguely like words. I looked back at her; she wasn’t looking back at me. “Thank you.” Now she looked at me. “You didn’t kill me. Thank you”

I wasn’t sure if it was due to the effects of the venom or my own warped psyche, but I saw a dark green Pegasus colt in the cell beside her. His face was obscured by shadow. I couldn’t tell if the specter was thanking me for saving a foal or blaming me for one I didn’t. The uncertainty made me uncomfortable. I nodded to Strings and walked away without looking back.

Spectrum smiled at me when I reached him. “Are you satisfied, Symphony?” I blinked and rubbed my head. I must’ve heard that wrong. He chuckled. “I asked, are you satisfied, Savage?”

That’s better. I nodded. Spectrum escorted me out of the schoolhouse. Azrael grunted at me as I left. I ignored him. Spectrum smiled at me before taking his leave. It was a smile I returned.

“Savage!”

And there it went.

“I’m so happy to see you!”

That made one of us. I felt my posture gradually droop as Dionysus rushed to my side. He tried to hug me, but I dodged him.

“How’ve you been?”

Better.

“Did you sleep well?”

It was okay.

“Have you seen Packrat?”

Not yet.

He just kept babbling on. It was Father this and wine that. He also shared the entire synopsis of his favorite play. It was a story of a mare who abandoned her homeland and married a charming stallion, who promptly left her for a mare of noble birth. Enraged and scorned, she took revenge by murdering the second mare and her family, her own children, and condemning her husband to a long life of solitude and despair. This was followed by her riding off into the sunset in a chariot pulled by dragons. But of course.

“You should read it some time. I can always read it to you.”

I’d rather be shot to death than have him read to me. The bullets would hurt less.

“Ah, just the stallions I wanted to see.”

I’d never been more thankful to hear Shadow’s voice. She pointed at Dionysus. “I need you to run ahead and wake up your wife.” Then she pointed at me. “And I might have a play date for you, Sparkles.”

Now I was less excited to hear her voice. I snorted at her condescending tone.

She sighed. “Fine. Don’t call it a play date. Just keep Tart busy for me.”

Tart? That rang a bell. Knowing Shadow, it was a nickname. Who’s was it? Tart. Tart. Tart… Oh, now I remembered. I’d be happy to keep her occupied.

“I’m sure you would.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Lyra. I’m simply worried is all. You remember how she threatened Packrat the last time they spoke? Somepony has to keep an eye on Lysandra.” Though I couldn’t help but wonder why she had returned to Boulder Springs. I doubted she would return simply to kill Packrat, unless she had a group of armed invaders. Dear Cadance not above, please don’t let Lysandra have a group of armed invaders.

I nodded and walked beside Shadow. Dionysus waved and hoofed it. Thank goodness. Also, he was much faster than I thought he’d be. He may have been a pain in my flank, but at least he had potential use as a scout or a messenger.

As Shadow and I walked, I understood why Lysandra might be in town. The Flim Flam Caravan was stationed near Maud Pie’s place. It was convenient that they arrived the day we were set to leave. I wasn’t sure if Maud Pie had contacted them or if this was pure luck. After a minute or so, I was close enough to notice the ponies standing around the Caravan. Mirage was sitting in front of the Caravan, while the sisters were speaking. I had a feeling they were giving Mirage the same performance I had seen.

I couldn’t see Lysandra. She either refused to be part of the routine, or she wasn’t here. But somepony else was. I felt a pair of hooves wrap around my neck. It took a lot of self-control not to snap. Besides, I could think of only one pony who would actually hug me like that.

“Hey, Savage!”

Hello, Packrat. I tapped her hooves to say hello. She let go and sat beside me. “So. You’re, um, doing okay? You were pretty fucked up when we found you.” I nodded. “Okay then!” She beamed at me before turning towards the Caravan. “I’m sad I missed the show Aren’t you?”

You better believe it.

Shadow was already speaking with the sisters. “We’re going to need healing potions, bandages, Med-X, hydra—”

“—The Junk Jet.”

“The—nice try, Squirt. A gun for the newlywed. Food, water, and a shit ton of ammo. What can you lovely mares do for us?”

“Thousand caps,” Shaim said without hesitation.

“A thousand caps?!” Shadow hissed. “How much radiation did you put on your Sugar Bombs this morning?”

“Enough to know that none of you stayed on to complete our last run. We paid you for a job you didn’t finish. There’s a debt. Add in our pain and suffering, and I think a thousand caps is a reasonable total.”

“Pain and suffering?” Packrat looked worried. “What happened? Didn’t Lysandra stay with you?

“Sure did. Until she robbed us!”

Oh. It seemed Lysandra was what happened. For some inexplicable reason, I wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“Tart shouldn’t count against us.”

“Still doesn’t do you any favors.”

“Fine.” Shadow’s tone was bitter, but she had resigned. “A thousand caps.”

Packrat tapped her on the shoulder. “Can’t we just get Mom to talk to them and negotiate a price? Mom’s a real good negotiamater.”

“Negotiator, Squirt.”

“That too!”

I could feel Shadow rolling her eyes. “The problem is that if Maud has to negotiate with the Flim Flam Caravan, then she’ll find out we all messed up a job. We all had our reasons, but somethin’ tells me Ole Rocks isn’t going to care.”

Packrat opened her mouth, then immediately closed it. She nodded. “Actually, you bring up a good point. Let’s just pay the nice mares.”

Shadow reached into her saddlebag and retrieved a large coin purse. “Hear any rumors?”

Shaim snorted. “That’s an extra 75.”

“50.”

“65.”

“55.”

“60. Final offer.”

“Deal.”

The two mares shook hooves.

“I’ve heard there’s a gang calling themselves the White Hooves.”

“How many?”

Shaim shook her head. “Don’t know. The real question isn’t how many but how many of what?”

I didn’t quite follow. Apparently neither did Shadow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means they’re not just ponies. Griffins. Buffalo. If it can hold a weapon, they want it. We spotted a group of them not too far back.”

“Were they armed?” Dionysus asked. I could tell from the look in his eyes he was trying to be helpful. He would’ve been more helpful if he didn’t waste our time with stupid questions.

Shaim rounded on him. “I just said ‘if they can hold a weapon they want it.’ Yes. They were armed.”

Dionysus shrank back. Shadow gave him a nudge on the shoulder before turning to Shaim. “Thanks for the information.”

The filly held out a hoof. “Thanks for the caps.”

Shadow begrudgingly paid the filly. She grumbled something to herself before speaking aloud. “Okay, kids, listen up.”

“Don’t call me kid, Shadow,” Shaim snapped.

“I wasn’t.” Shadow flicked her hoof in our general direction. “I was talking to my kids. Speaking of which, we’re heading out in twenty minutes. I’m going to get the prisoners. The rest of you grab your shit and say your goodbyes.”

Packrat wasted no time. She hugged each of the Shim Sham sisters. Each of the twins kissed her on the cheek; Shaim shoved her away. Undeterred, Packrat dashed into her house. Dionysus trotted after her. Likely to say goodbye to Toothpick as well as collect her effects. I was mildly curious as to what Toothpick thought of Dionysus. But not nearly enough to ask him. Fuck Toothpick.

I trotted into Maud Pie’s house. I started walking up the stairs when I heard Maud Pie calling my name in her deadpan voice. I followed the sound of her voice to her office. Maud Pie was sitting at her desk. Beside her desk were my effects. Had she looked through my stuff?

“I packed your bag. I didn’t look at your stuff.”

I had no idea how that was possible. If she wasn’t going to question me, I wouldn’t question her. I grabbed my saddlebag, as well as the battle saddle. It was such a pain to get that thing on. I looked at Maud Pie. She was staring back at me. I had forgotten she wasn’t one for social cues. I put on the battle saddle without her help, grabbed my bag, and walked out of her office.

“Packrat always kisses me on the cheek before she leaves. Are you going to kiss me on the cheek?”

I stopped walking for a second. I turned back to look at her. There was the same deadpan expression. I had no idea if this was a legitimate question or a joke. I shook my head and headed outside.

It took about twenty minutes, but our group had gathered near the outskirts of town. Shadow stood ahead of us; Templar and Strings stood behind her. “Alright, kiddos. We’re about to take a trip through the harsh, unfeeling, Wasteland to a city every bit as dangerous. Personally, I can’t wait to get out there and have some fun. But some of you might not make it back. I myself might finally meet Celestia by the time this is all over. If anypony here has any doubts about coming, now’s the time to speak up.”

I looked at my companions. If the smile on her face was anything to go by, Packrat didn’t seem fazed. She was likely just excited at the prospect of another adventure. Especially if it kept her distracted from thoughts of the last one. Mirage didn’t look nearly as excited. Her frown was all business, which made sense. She would be returning home, and she would be doing so alone. Why should she be smiling? I considered feeling guilty, but it wasn’t worth my time. Neither was looking at Dionysus.

Shadow broke into a loud laugh. “Nopony’s saying anything? Well, that’s fine by me. She tilted her head towards the prisoners behind her. “Dionysus. Sparkles. Come take these ponies off my hooves will ya?”

“Um, okay.” Dionysus began to walk forward, but I blocked him with my hoof. “What’s wrong, Savage?”

I didn’t try to answer him or look in his direction. My stoic expression was fixed on Shadow. If I had to spend this journey tethered to another pony, I at least wanted to know why.

“Let me guess, Sparkles. You want to know why I asked the strapping young stallions to escort the prisoners instead of the centuries old ghoul, the NCR pony with no stake in the prisoners’ safety, and Packrat?” Packrat’s hoof shot into the air. “Because you’re more likely to get distracted than Sparkles.” Packrat put her hoof down. Shadow chuckled. “Besides.” She lightly tugged at Strings’ chain. The filly let out a shriek and stumbled forward. “This one seems to have taken a liking to you. Might as well keep her comfortable.”

I supposed. I removed my hoof from Dionysus’ path and approached Shadow. She offered me the chain attached to Strings’ collar. There was a groove in the chain for me to slip my hoof into. I did so; Dionysus did the same with Templar’s chain. Templar kept a respectful distance from Dionysus. Strings took a few steps towards me. She shrank away when I looked down at her. I hadn’t even glared.

“Nice going,” Mirage muttered.

Now I was glaring, but I made sure Strings couldn’t see it. When I looked back at her, I was smiling. Not that I had much to smile about. But like Shadow said, might as well keep her comfortable.

“Well look at you, Symphony. You’re almost decent.”

I shrugged. “I’m okay.”

I felt Lyra’s hooves caress my neck. I breathed in her fragrant scent. Her hot breath tickled my ear as she whispered, “You keep being a good boy, and I’ll be sure to be a bad girl.”

“Savage!” Mirage’s aggressive tone broke me from my reverie. “You still with us?” I nodded. “Oh yeah?” She snickered. “What did I just say?”

“Nothing, Wings. I was the one talking.” Shadow cracked her neck and rubbed it. “But I’m all ears if you have something to add.”

“Actually, I do.” Mirage flapped her wings and flew beside Shadow, which seemed overly dramatic to me when she could’ve just walked four steps. Mirage started drawing in the dirt with her tail. She had drawn a circle with three stars and two lines inside. The lines divided the circle into two roughly equal halves with a narrow strip, and one star, in the center. She tapped the circle with her tail. “This is a crude map of Vanhoover.”

“Really? I thought this was to scale.”

Mirage grimaced, but she didn’t verbally respond to Shadow’s snark. “The star in the center is the Fairchild Casino. This is our goal. These other two stars.” She pointed to each of them with her wings. “Are the entrances to the city. The NCR to the right and the Rusty Rangers to the left.” She paused to glance at Templar. She held her stare for a moment before shaking her head and returning to the map.

“Is something wrong, Mirage?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I thought about saying no offense. But, you’re a slaver. So, fuck you.”

He was far more than that. I thought about sharing that information, but it wasn’t worth it. Not when it could potentially remind Packrat of what happened with Lamentation. Templar sighed in response. It didn’t sound as if he were exasperated. He seemed sad, hopefully remorseful. And on another note, Rusty Rangers? Was that really the best she could come up with? Granted, I couldn’t think of anything either. I had the excuse of not knowing of their existence till a few days ago. Mirage had been fighting them for who knows how long and could only come up with a foal level insult. For shame.

Mirage tapped her hoof against the star to the right. “I think we should take the NCR entrance. Since I’ll be with you, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to get into the city. Since I need to return to the base, it ends up working out for all of us.”

Packrat pouted. “Does that mean you’re really going to leave us, Mirage?”

Mirage nodded. “Yes. My mission to exterminate the Legendary Breezadore was successful. I have to give my report.”

“Are you going to come back to us after you give your report?”

Mirage shook her head. “I have no idea. It all depends on what and where my next assignment is.”

Packrat gave Mirage a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

Mirage looked surprised. But her shock gave way to a small smile. She wrapped one of her wings around Packrat and reciprocated the hug. “I’ll miss you too, Squirt.”

“Hey!” Shadow snapped. “That’s my nickname for her. Get your own, Wings.” Mirage looked even more stunned this time. Before she could recover and respond, Shadow continued. “Going to the NCR side might be better for you, but I don’t see how it benefits the rest of us. We have no business with the NCR.” Now it was her turn to have fun with the map. She pointed to the Steel Rangers star. “One of our contracts is with the Steel Rangers. It makes more sense to handle that before paying a visit to Fairchild. Besides, I don’t think the SR would feel as inclined to deal with us if we knocked on the NCR’s door first.”

“They won’t feel very inclined either way. Knowing them, they’ll pay for you Templar. Then they’ll take Strings to Fairchild and collect her reward themselves.”

“She’s not wrong.” Everypony, and zebra, looked at Templar. “I haven’t spoken to my companions in some time, but I doubt they’ve changed their ways since I left. The city of Vanhoover is a breeding ground for greed, suspicions, and violence. The Steel Rangers are no different. That city is—”

“We’re here to make plans, not get preached to. Keep it short, Tin Stallion.”

He sighed. Now he sounded exasperated. “Mirage is right; they’re assholes.”

“See?” Shadow patted him on the back. “Was that so hard?” She turned her attention to Mirage. “Let me get this straight, Wings. If we go through your side, the Steel Rangers won’t do business with us. If we go through their side, they won’t let Fairchild do business with us?”

“That about sums it up.”

“Gamó!”

Dionysus gasped; everypony looked confused.

“What did she say?” Packrat asked. Dionysus bit his lip. His eyes darted as if he were afraid he would be caught by one of his parents. He then whispered into Packrat’s ear. “Ohhhh.” Packrat nodded. “She said ‘fuck.’” Dionysus almost fainted; Packrat just laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

Mirage rolled her eyes. “Any thoughts, Shadow?”

“Plenty. And none of ‘em good.” She didn’t elaborate any further.

I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I had an idea of my own. I used my hoof to draw a circle outside the city. I then drew two lines from the circle. The first line stretched to the NCR checkpoint; the second line went the opposite route to the Steel Rangers.

Shadow nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking too, Sparkles.” Packrat raised a hoof. “We’re thinking that we split up before we enter the city. One group takes Strings through the NCR checkpoint. The other takes Templar to the Steel Rangers and get into the city that way. We’ll all meet up at the Casino and get out from there.”

Packrat didn’t look happy. She was frowning; her eyes kept moving from pony to pony to zebra.

“What’s on your mind, Squirt?”

“I’m thinking about, um, who I want to group up with. I want to spend more time with Mirage before she leaves, but I’ve barely seen Shadow lately. I want to go with my husband, but I really like travelling with Savage. Hmmmmm. This, um, one’s a toughie.”

“No, it’s not.” Shadow pointed to me and Mirage. “You two are going to look after Squirt.”

“Why us?”

I agreed with Mirage. I wasn’t complaining; I was simply curious.

“The answer’s easy, Wings. Dionysus is with Templar, and Savage is with Strings. Each of them needs at least one more pony with them for back up. And since you’re leaving once S and S get to the checkpoint, they’re down a pony.”

Packrat raised a hoof. “Oh! So either you or me has to go with them. Right?”

“That’s right, Squirt. And since you want to say bye to Wings, you should go with her.” She titled her head towards Dionysus. “’Sides. He and I still have things to talk about.”

Dionysus nodded happily. “Yιαγιά Oκιά’s been telling me great stories about my family.”

Shadow groaned. “I told you not to call me Yιαγιά. I like θείτσα.”

“But you’re old enough to be a Yιαγιά.”

“That’s the problem.”

Mirage leaned towards me. “Any idea what the fuck they’re talking about?”

I shrugged. I assumed Greco semantics. He was likely calling her their equivalent of grandmother, while she preferred to be his auntie.

Shadow cracked her neck and muttered something to herself. To the rest of us she said, “The journey should take us two days. Three is the Wasteland wants to throw us a going away party or two. We should be heading out now. Everypony ready?”

I glanced down at my bag. Below Glimmer and the Daring Do manuscript was my stash of vulpa venom. I had just seen Lyra, which meant the effects lasted far longer than I had thought. I didn’t have the urge to take another hit right now; I also didn’t know how long it would be before I had another chance.

“If you ask me, you should wait till tonight. That way you can enjoy yourself, and you won’t have to travel in that state.”

Lyra had a point. I’d be travelling while under the effects of vulpa venom regardless. Probably best to not make it worse.

“Savage?” I faced Shadow. “Are you ready?”

I nodded.

***

I was currently very happy I’d waited to take my dose of vulpa venom. For the first few hours, our journey had been uneventful. Shadow had made a few jokes. Mirage had gotten irritated over something. Dionysus had irritated me. It was normal. Alas, normalcy doesn’t last in the Wasteland. Packrat had been looking through her balloon binoculars; I had forgotten she had those.

“Hey, Shadow. I have a question.”

“What is it, Squirt?”

Packrat passed the binoculars to Shadow and pointed to the east. “What are those?”

Shadow looked through the binoculars. She nodded her head. She returned the binoculars to Packrat. “Those, Squirt, are the Wasteland throwing us a party. Fly-ders.”

“And what’s a fly-der?” Dionysus asked.

I had a pretty good guess. If I was right, I really didn’t want to be.

“A flying spider. Or, to put it another way, the worst fucking thing imaginable.”

I felt the scar on my throat burn. I could think of worse things. Although it wasn’t a particularly long list. I readied the battle saddle and peered through Savage’s scope. Unlike vulpas, these were tiny little bastards. I couldn’t see them in detail. What I could see was that there was a lot of them. Too many for us to fight. The good news was they were about twenty meters away from us. They hadn’t noticed us yet, so there was still time to avoid them. The question was how were we going to do it?

“What do you think we should do, θείτσα Oκιά?”

Shadow sat on her haunches and looked up. “It’s sunset now, so it’ll be getting dark soon. I don’t like travelling the Wasteland at night, especially not with fly-ders around. We’ll make camp here. Hopefully they’ll be gone by morning.”

“And if they’re not?” Templar asked.

“Then we take the long way to Vanhoover.”

“We’re seriously going to delay our trip because of some bugs?” Mirage didn’t look happy with the situation.

“Yes, Wings, we are.” From her tone, Shadow didn’t seem too happy with Mirage. “Packrat was telling me last night that you’ve had some trouble with breezadores.”

Mirage’s nostrils flared. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Fly-ders are much worse than breezadores. They’re smaller, faster, and they want to eat you. And with a swarm of that size, they can and they will. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen.”

That caught my attention. After reading about her in the Daring Do story, I was curious as to what other adventures Shadow had gotten into. There was a lot to learn from a mare who had lived for over two centuries. I still wanted to know if she and Daring Do ever had that fight.

“What happened?” Packrat seemed just as interested as I was.

“You know I don’t like talking about my past, Squirt.”

There was an edge to Shadow’s voice that Packrat ignored. “Yeah, I know. But, um, you always say it’s better to focus on the present. And the present, um, has the fly-bers—”

“—Fly-ders.”

“Them too! I’m just saying if you told us your experience with them, we could, um, come up with a better plan.”

Shadow’s laugh was raspy and uncomfortable to the ears. “I know you don’t believe any of that for a second, but it was clever.” Packrat looked disappointed, but it only lasted for about a second. “Clever enough to have an actual point. It was back when I was with the Shadowbolts. A meteorite had fallen into some Celestia-forsaken jungle. Me and a small unit travelled with an archeologist to find the thing. After retrieving it, we escorted her and the meteorite to the Ministry of War Tech in Vanhoover.”

“What for?” Mirage asked.

Shadow shook her head. “Didn’t ask. Didn’t stick around long enough to find out. What I do know is that we were attacked by fly-ders on our way out of the city. I was able to escape without a problem, but one of my comrades was eaten alive. So, Wings, if it’s all the same to you. I’d rather not fuck with fly-ders.”

Ultimately, we didn’t fuck with the fly-ders. We walked for about twenty minutes before we stopped to make our camp. There had been a small hill Shadow thought would make a great vantage point. We had gathered on the hill. The fly-ders were much further. Hopefully they’d move on in the morning. Shadow had started a small fire. We had drawn lots to determine the watch order. I had the first watch of the night. That suited me just fine. Once everypony and zebra fell asleep, I could inject another dose of vulpa venom in privacy. Currently, there was only one holdout.

Strings was watching me. She was huddled up beside me, almost like a pet. I couldn’t tell if it was endearing or creepy. What I could decide was it was keeping me from spending more time with Lyra. That was unacceptable. I pointed to the other ponies and then nodded at her.

“I’m not tired.” Just my luck. “I wanted to stay up with you.”

Ugh, fine. She could stay up with me. Strings hadn’t said a word to any of my companions thus far. I doubted she’d say anything if she watched me take a small dose of venom. I retrieved a syringe and a venom sac from my bag. I pierced the sac and extracted a third of the syringe of venom. I put the sac back into my bag.

Strings was staring at the syringe. “Is that for me?”

I shook my head. I pointed to myself.

“What is it?”

Liquid happiness.

I injected the venom into my body. It took a few moments for the effects to sink in. Sink in they did. The first thing I noticed was the fire. The fire had been small. Not quite embers but close to it. Now I saw a roaring fire. It even felt warmer. I held my hooves closer to the flames and enjoyed the warmth.

Lyra rested her head on my shoulder. “It’s a nice fire.”

“Yes, it is.”

Lyra’s gaze fell to the syringe on the ground by my hooves. She gently flicked at it with her tail. “Are you sure you should be taking this while on watch?”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“As long as you’re sure.” She nodded towards Strings. “She’s cute.”

“She’s practically a filly.”

“I mean cute as in a cute kid.” She snickered. “No. The real cute one is that zebra stud.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She laughed. “What? You’re not jealous, are you, Symphony?”

I snorted. “And what would I have to be jealous about?”

I felt her hot breath against my ear. “Absolutely nothing.”

Lyra starting nibbling on my ear. It felt wonderful, but I had to move away from her. “There’s a child watching, Lyra.”

“And?”

“And?” Did she really just ask that? “It’s not appropriate.”

“Neither is taking drugs.”

Oh. We were having this talk again. “Is this an attempt at analogizing taking drugs to public sex?”

Lyra looked startled. “What? No! Don’t be stupid, Symphony.”

I glared at her, but she paid no mind. “I’m saying you want to do things that make you happy, regardless if they’re appropriate or not. So, you should be consistent.”

“There’s a difference between taking a shot of vulpa venom in front of Strings and having sex in front of her.”

“What is it?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You said there’s a difference. What is it?”

“Watching sex could scar her.”

“And seeing her savior injecting himself with literal poison isn’t scarring?”

“Sex is a special act between two ponies.”

“It’s not like she’s going to see me.”

“Sex is private!”

“And we all know how public you are with your drug use.”

My lips curled into a snarl. “Oh, just shut up.”

“I’m not trying to convince you against taking vulpa venom; you clearly aren’t interested in common sense.” I snorted, but she ignored me. “But at the very least you can be consistent with your actions and motivations.”

“My motivation is consistent. I want to do things that make me happy. Having sex in public isn’t exactly appealing to me. and right about now you’re not that appealing either.”

She turned her back on me. At first she was quiet, but then I started hearing something. A wet, raspy, choking sound. It was a laugh even more disgusting than my own. It certainly wasn’t appealing either. She rounded on me. I no longer saw Lyra in front of me. I had forgotten the time when I woke up after being struck by the poison arrow. Vulpa venom leads to hallucinations. Not all of them were pleasant.

Lyra’s face opened up to reveal an undulating black mass. Her head leaned backward; tendrils lashed out of the mass into the air above her. The tendrils snapped violently at each other. The violent choking sound continued. It no longer came from the mouth on her face. It was coming from the several mouths that had formed on her chest and legs. Each mouth opened to reveal several sets of teeth and a tongue coated in black slime. The sights and sounds were awful, but they had nothing on the smell. It smelled of mucous and feces, and the smell came from each mouth. Every time they laughed, the smell grew more intense. And they didn’t stop laughing.

I felt nauseous. I was sweating heavily. I tried to breathe, but my breath was caught in my throat. I backpedaled away from the monster that was once Lyra Heartstrings XII until I felt something pressing against my back. It was cold, hard, and metallic. I knew what it was once I heard the tell-tale click.

“You and everything you own is now property of the White Hooves.”

I could see faces in the firelight. Not all of them were pony. One of them had feathers and a curved beak. Another had horns coming from the sides of its head. I couldn’t tell if I were being ambushed by a herd of multiple species or if I were hallucinating. And if I were hallucinating, how much was real?

The gun was jammed into my back. “Wake up my friends before I shoot you.”

The gun at least felt real. I had to assume the other creatures were as well. Even if they were all ponies, they were still ponies with guns. I approached Shadow. I touched her on the shoulder and roughly shook her awake. She grumbled something and raised her head. “Ugh. Look, Sparkles, I get that you’re into me, but is no way to—oh.” She moved her head around the fire. She tilted her head down and looked at where the syringe was lying. “Fuck.”

Well said.

3.2: Walk like an Equestrian

3.2 Walk Like An Equestrian

“Foreign types with the hookah pipes say….”

Most of my comrades were awake now. We stood in a line at the edge of the hilltop. It wasn’t a steep drop, which made the situation less tense than it could have been. Although the guns pointed at me more than made up for it. We had all been searched. From Opus, to Zeus, to Glimmer, our weapons lay in a pile before us. I would be defenseless if my attackers decided I wasn’t worth keeping around. And, yet, they weren’t nearly as terrifying as Shadow or Mirage.

Both of them had seen the syringe. While I couldn’t see Shadow’s eyes beneath her mask, I could feel her glaring at me. I could only imagine how disappointed those Lyra-like eyes looked right now. I didn’t need to imagine how Mirage looked. She was standing beside me. She wasn’t even looking at our captors. Her rage was solely directed at me. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

No. I didn’t. They had snuck up on me. Even if I had been sober, I likely wouldn’t have seen their approach. True, I could have heard them. I also could have drawn a weapon. It was also highly probable I would’ve been shot if I had drawn a weapon. The gunshots would’ve woken my companions who would’ve been shot as well. An idiot? Hardly. I may have put us in this predicament, but I saved us from a worse one—why did my shoulder feel wet?

Packrat stood by my left shoulder. She had been nodding off. Now she was completely asleep. She was leaning against my shoulder, which she drooled and nibbled on. “Mhmm. Dionysus, that doesn’t go there. You need Savage’s permission first.”

I really didn’t want to know what she was dreaming of. I roughly shook my shoulder. Packrat’s head bounced off my shoulder. Her body swayed, but she stayed on her hooves. She also managed to stay asleep. She nibbled on her lip, as she drooled.

Her husband stood beside her. He was shaking in his hooves. His constant movement was rattling Templar’s chain. Templar, however, refused to be rattled. He showed no emotion in his face. I admired his bravery, but I wondered where it came from. Was it his faith that gave him strength? Or did he realize he’d die once he reached Vanhoover, so dying here meant nothing to him?

I glanced down at the filly behind me. Strings had fallen asleep at some point; I wasn’t sure when. Our captors had allowed her to stay asleep. It seemed a filly with a broken horn wasn’t considered a threat. Even still, it was nice of them to allow it. A little too nice. Not to the point of being suspicious, but it gave me an inkling that our captors were reasonable. Reasonable ponies, or whatever they all were, could be negotiated with. Which was a far better alternative than being shot.

The herd continued to stand in the shadows. One of them whistled. The whistle was met by a loud click of the tongue. It was soon followed by the sound of hoofsteps. The shadows parted, and two figures stepped into the firelight. It took me a few seconds, but I recognized the first one. He was the small pony with the hammer from Greco village. The group with ashes on their hooves. The White Hooves, I believed. I wondered how many of his companions had also attacked Greco Village. At least one of them had. The second shadow who walked into the firelight was instantly recognizable. From his mustard-yellow eyes to his guns: Anarchy and Tenacity. And, of course, the big dumb grin on his face.

“Symphy?” I cringed when I heard that name. That just made his grin even larger. “Symphy!” He sprinted towards me and tackled me onto the ground. He laughed and playfully pounded his hooves against my chest. “You big bastard. Where the flying fuck have you been?” I tilted my head towards the other ponies. Carbine looked at them. “No shit? You’ve made som—wait a motherfucking second.” He stood up and approached Mirage. Then he just sat there and stared at her.

“Can I help you?” she snarled.

“I’m just trying to remember if you’re the same flying bitch that shot at me and my boys.” There was a loud cough behind him. “Boys and girl.”

Mirage’s snarl intensified. “And what if I was?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t kill me, so I guess I can’t be too mad.” He started walking around Mirage in a circle. “You’re motherfuckin’ beautiful, you know that?”

“Yes, I do.”

Carbine grinned at her and then looked back at me. “Hey, Symph, can I keep her?”

“No.” The small pony answered. “At least not yet.”

Shadow finally spoke up. “Yet? Well, if there’s a yet and we haven’t been shot, then I think a sense a proposal.”

The small pony nodded and sat down beside our weapon pile. He waved his hoof. I saw the shadows moving. I presumed they were putting away their weapons. “Sit down.” We all sat except Packrat, who was still asleep. He didn’t seem to care. He pressed a hoof against his chest and began to speak. “My name is Samson, Prince of the White Hooves. I act on behalf of my father the King of the White Hooves.” He paused; I assumed this was time for any quick questions.

Shadow apparently thought so as well. “Your King’s name wouldn’t happen to be Pluto, would it?”

Samson’s body tensed. “What if it is?”

Shadow sighed. “Relax, Prince. I mean no disrespect. I just knew Pluto when he was still Hades.”

“Hades?” Happiness spread across Dionysus face like a disease. “Uncle Hades?” He gasped. “That means we’re cousins!”

Samson looked Dionysus up and down. He didn’t seem impressed. Samson returned his attention to Shadow. “The White Hooves follow a set of rituals when we find travelers or a settlement. We hold them up, search them for anything worth taking, and kill anything that resists. Then we take the strong ones back to Twin Mares to become White Hooves. Settlements remain a part of our Equestrian community. Travelers are allowed to go on their way.”

Shadow nodded. “Well, we’ve gotten through the first few steps. Now you’re going to take us to your leader?”

Samson shook his head. “Normally that would be the case, but this situation is different from the norm.”

“How so?”

Samson pointed a hoof at Packrat. “I’ve heard stories about her on Honest Jack’s channel. She’s the famed Hoarder. Am I wrong?”

Oh, right. I had forgotten about the radio channel and the famed mare who travelled the Wasteland. Funny enough, my adventures with Packrat had caused me to forget about the stories of the Hoarder. It was strange to know there were ponies who revered her. Not that she didn’t deserve their praise for her heroism, although she also suffered from chronic stupidity from time to time. To me she was simply Packrat. Seeing her as anything else just felt strange.

“What if she is?”

“Anyone who listens to that channel knows the Hoarder is affiliated with Boulder Springs. Pardon my language miss….—”

“—Shadow.”

“Miss Shadow. But the White Hooves know better than to fuck with Boulder Springs.”

Shadow chuckled. “Good to know that kid Pluto learned some manners. Do you mind if I stand up and stretch my old legs?”

“Go right ahead.”

Shadow stood up. She arched her back and stretched. “You don’t want to make enemies of us, but you still haven’t given us back our guns. I assume that means we won’t be getting them unless we agree to certain terms?’

“Correct.”

Shadow cradled her head with her neck and cracked it. There was a loud pop when she did. Dionysus and Samson both cringed at the sound. Carbine whistled and whispered, “She’s kinda hot too, Symph. You with any of these mares?”

I shook my head. Lyra may have been annoying me lately, but she was still the mare for me. I may have flirted with Shadow yesterday, but I didn’t mean anything by it.

Shadow sat back down. “What’s the job and the payment?”

Samson nodded in Carbine’s direction. “Carbine will explain.”

Carbine snickered and rubbed his hooves together. “Okay. There’s this village of deer about half a day north of here. We sent some of our friends into their village a few days ago to negotiate a surrender. But those motherfuckers captured our guys and sent one of them back as a message. Fuck. That. So, the way we see it, we have to rescue our companions and send a message of our own.”

“Hubbazahwhat?” It seemed Packrat woke up. She looked around, smacked her lips, and wiped away the drool with her hoof. “What’s going on here?”

Mirage pointed at Samson and Carbine with each of her wings. “Short version. A bunch of deer kidnapped their companions and sent one back as a message, and they want our help to save them.”

Samson chuckled. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.”

Packrat sat down and yawned. “Complicated how?”

“Like I was telling your friends, we’re sending a message of our own. That we’re the baddest motherfuckers in the Wasteland, and fucking with us is not okay.”

“Send a message?” Packrat’s face soured. “You’re going to kill them?”

Carbine shook his head. “No no no. We’re not gonna kill ‘em. The White Hooves want to assimilate the Wasteland and create a unified power.”

“Sounds like the NCR,” Templar muttered.

Carbine’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “But we are gonna shoot ‘em.”

Packrat titled her head. “If you’re not going to kill, then why are you going to shoot?”

“’Cause it’s damn fun!” Carbine caught Samson’s disappointed glare. He didn’t notice the one I was giving him as well. He was being too loud and woke up Strings. Carbine rolled his eyes. “Oh, and because we need to keep the future citizens in line without killing them. Part of the routine.”

Routine? How many missions had Carbine been on? That didn’t seem to be the question Shadow had in mind. “I assume our job is to be insurance in case they start shooting back?”

Carbine clicked his tongue and winked. Odd combination. I wondered if that was a new habit he’d picked up or just something that struck his fancy. With Carbine I wouldn’t be surprised either way.

“And I’m also going to assume our payment is that you don’t kill or rob us?”

Carbine stuck out his tongue and shook his head. “Not at all. Like Samy said, we’re not gonna fuck with Boulder Springs. We’ll give ya 400 caps.”

“Only 400?” Shadow didn’t sound enthused.

Packrat didn’t appear very happy either. She looked unusually sour. “What do you think, Shadow?”

“I think we’re mercenaries, Squirt.”

Samson’s ears twitched. “Pray tell, what does that mean?”

“What it means, is that we do any job so long as there are tangible benefits. Usually that amounts to caps. But not getting shot and starting a potential partnership between Boulder Springs and the White Hooves sounds like a tangible benefit to me.”

Packrat lowered her head. “So that means we’re actually going to help them….”

“I thought you liked helping ponies, Squirt.”

I thought so as well. This wasn’t the Packrat I was accustomed to.

“I do. But the ponies we’d be helping are trying to hurt other ponies.”

“Hey!” Carbine stomped his hoof. “That’s not true at all. We’re hurting deer. Totally different from hurting ponies.”

I shook my head. You’re not helping Carbine.

Packrat didn’t buy that for a second. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t.” Samson turned his head around to look at Carbine. I couldn’t quite call it a glare, but it teetered on the edge. Carbine chuckled, but he did shrink back. Samson returned his focus on us. “Unfortunately, that’s the nature of conflict. Each side is trying to hurt the other to get what they want.”

“And that’s selfish.”

Samson shrugged. “I see no problem with being selfish. I’ve never met anyone—be it pony, zebra, or griffon who wasn’t.”

Packrat was indignant. “I’m not!” Shadow and I both snickered. Packrat groaned and ruffled her mane with her hooves. “Okay, I may be just the teeny tiniest bit selfish. But I don’t hurt ponies to get what I want.”

Samson smirked. “That’s not what they say about you on the radio.”

Packrat winced. “What do they say about me?”

“Your legend is still in its infancy. But every now and again Honest Jack will tell a story about the Hoarder. A brave mare whose sense of justice is only matched by her insatiable greed.”

She dropped her gaze. “Yeah, I guess that’s kinda true….”

Samson raised his hoof. “Not that it matters to me. Your reputation is your business. My concern is you provide some backup if things go south in the village.”

Packrat still didn’t look happy, but she didn’t protest any further.

Shadow relaxed and took in a deep breath. “I suppose it’s better than the alternative.” She craned her neck and addressed the rest of us. “Good news, kiddos. We’re taking the scenic route to Vanhoover. It’s a bit out of the way but more time for family bonding.” She turned her attention back towards Carbine. “Do any of you delightful equines know any good road trip songs?”

Packrat raised her hoof even though Shadow couldn’t see her.

“Put your hoof down, Squirt. I was being facetious.”

Packrat did as she was told.

Carbine leaned towards Samson. “What’s facetious mean?”

Samson ignored him and approached Shadow. “Forgive me for not being able to tell the difference between genuine rhetoric and sarcasm. Do we have a deal Miss Shadow?” She nodded and outstretched her hoof. Samson touched it with his own. “Good. Now let’s be on our way.” He took three steps before stopping. “Facetious or not, I do happen to know a few road trip songs if you’re interested.”

Songs. I glanced down at my cutie mark, but I quickly looked away. No. I was supposed to live in a way that brought me happiness. Reminding myself of my past life was no way to be happy. So then why do you take that poison?

I ignored the question and began to walk. Samson was in the lead. As I walked I was able to see the other creatures with Samson and Carbine. One was a buffalo, while the other was a griffin. Everypony else and Dionysus were bunched up behind them. Mirage was walking on my right. If her smirk was anything to go by, she was a happy pony. “So…-Symphy?”

Happy at my expense. I glared at her. The only pony who called me that was Carbine. And even then, it was a nickname I hated.

She nickered. “No wonder you changed it. It’s definitely less intimidating than Savage.”

“It’s so weird though.” Carbine was stomping on my other side. “You never seemed like a ‘Savage’ when I first met you. But I guess it fits after what you did to that priest.”

“What priest?” Packrat asked.

Carbine laughed. “Oh, it’s a long story. But Symphy—”

“—Wait, wait. Is Symphy his name or, um, a nickname?”

“His name is Symphony.” Carbine put a hoof around my shoulder and touched his cheek against mine. “But I’ve been calling him Symphy for as long as I’ve known him.”

Packrat nodded her head. “Symphony…-I like it.”

He was nodding like an idiot. “I like him too.”

Mirage nudged me. “This guy’s been quiet when it comes to his past. What kind of stories can you share with us, Carbine?”

“Oh, boy, where do I begin?! So, the two of us travelled the Crystal Wasteland together, while being chased by his crazy ass sister.”

“You have a sister?!” Packrat was way more excited than she should’ve been.

I nodded.

“When do I get to meet her?”

It’d be for the best if you didn’t. I shook my head.

“Oh….”

Carbine drummed his lips. “Oh, she’s not dead. She just tried to kill us a few times.”

Mirage gasped. “Wait a second. Was that the mare you were talking to that night at the inn.”

I was surprised she remembered that. I nodded.

“She didn’t seem that bad to me.”

Carbine snorted. “Yeah. She doesn’t look like much, but you’d be surprised what that bitch can do.”

“So aside from Savage’s—” Packrat giggled. “Sorry. Symphony’s sister, what else happened.”

“Oh, you know. We fought some Cadanites. Symphy found out his whole religion was total bullshit. We went to the Flash Sentry Museum—”

I heard a squeal in delight at the sound of Flash Sentry’s name. The squeal both gravelly and raspy. No, it couldn’t be. I looked behind me. Shadow had covered her mouth with a hoof. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “What? I was a young mare in my prime when his movies came out. I was a big fan.”

Carbine looked back at her with a grin. “Do you want to see something cool?” Before Shadow could answer, Carbine levitated a plastic toy ray gun out of his bag. “Do you recognize this?”

“Owlowicious.” Shadow snatched it. She turned it around in her hooves. “This is an exact replica.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the original.”

She turned her head towards him. “Okay, how much?”

“Sorry, I can’t sell it. It was my little bro’s.” He smiled sadly and levitated Owlowicious back into his bag.

I hated to see a dejected Carbine. I touched a hoof to my heart and then tapped Carbine on the shoulder. I didn’t know what that exactly meant, but it was something.

“Thanks, Symph.” He hugged me, and I hugged him back.

“Now…-kiss.”

I glared at Packrat.

“What? You two get on so well. And you share history. And you’re hugging. What am I supposed to think?”

My glare intensified.

“You’re going to smack me again, aren’t you?”

I was thinking about it.

Carbine laughed. “That sounds like something Thirteen would’ve said.”

What did he just say?

“Thirteen?” Packrat looked at each of us. “Who’s that?”

“Thirteen was Symph’s mare.”

Mirage’s ears pricked. “Oh? Now this sounds interesting. Tell us, Carbine, what was this bundle of joy’s marefriend like?”

“Oh, she was the best. She was funny, flirty. She couldn’t shoot a gun for shit, but nopony’s perfect. She also had an incredible fla—”

I struck him in the face with my hoof. My hoof smashed into his nose and knocked him on his back. A series of guns were trained on me. The griffin’s trigger talon twitched.

“Wait!” Carbine got to his hooves. He rubbed his nose and sneezed blood. Of course it landed on my ankle. Ew. “I deserved that. There’s no problem. Right, Symph?”

Yes. As long as he knew better than to talk about Lyra. I nodded.

“But I’ve gotta say.” He massaged his jaw and spat out a few drops of blood. “This motherfucker’s got a mean kick to him. Were you always this strong?”

I shrugged.

“Little bro!” Mirage’s eyes sparkled. “That’s gotta be the foal.”

Come again?

Mirage pointed at me with her wing. “When we were trapped in the Greco’s shithole of a village—”

“—Hey, that’s my home you’re—” Dionysus stopped talking the second Mirage looked at him. He shrank back and fell in line behind Shadow.

Mirage snapped her head back towards me. “When we were in that shithole you said something about travelling with a foal, right?”

Technically I never said anything, but I remembered. I nodded.

“So, I’m thinking this foal has to be Carbine’s bro. Am I right?”

Carbine answered for me. “Absolutely! Missile was the best. He was such a fun kid to be around. Especially whenever he started talking about his comics.” He whistled. “He loved those things. And he could swear almost as well as I could.” He laughed. It started off as a normal Carbine laugh. It was full of energy and far too loud. As the laugh continued, it grew more and more strained and sad. I needed to change the subject. I tapped Carbine on the shoulder and motioned to his comrades.

“Oh, right. I haven’t told you about us.”

The griffin cocked her shotgun.

Carbine rolled his eyes. “No. I’m not going to tell him everything.” He titled his head and whispered, “Crescent’s really sensitive when it comes to her privacy.”

I could respect that.

“Anyway. So, you disappeared, and I got attacked by a herd of assholes.”

The buffalo snorted.

Carbine laughed. “Yes, you were the biggest asshole there.”

“Any reason why those two aren’t talking?” Mirage asked.

Samson answered. “It is the White Hooves way to remain silent unless spoken to or making threats.”

“So, Carbine’s only allowed to talk because we’re talking to him?”

Samson sighed heavily. “No. He just doesn’t know how to shut up.”

“Damn straight I don’t. Anyway, the herd of assholes kept hitting me, but I didn’t let those motherfuckers keep me down. They took me to Twin Mares—no, I’m not going to tell them where it is. Don’t worry. They took me to Pluto, and he told me I could join him or die. And Samsy and I’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

Carbine didn’t seem to hear him. “What’re you guys up to?”

“Escorting prisoners.” Shadow tilted her head towards Strings and Templar.

Carbine waved at Strings. She turned her head away before quickly glancing at me. I gave her a reassuring smile and nodded towards Carbine. She tried to smile back, but it didn’t quite work out.

“Where you takin’ ‘em to?”

“Give me Owlowicious, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Carbine shook his head. “I’m not that curious.”

Shadow chuckled and turned her head towards Samson. “Tell us about this village.”

Samson nodded to the griffin. “Crescent.”

She returned the nod. “I scouted the village last week. There’s a small patch of forest that’s not far from here. There’s a clearing in the forest with about twelve houses.”

“Twelve houses?!” Packrat gasped. “How big is this clearing?”

“Quite large. It’s more of a clearing surrounded by trees than a forest with a clearing.”

“What kind of weapons do they have?” Shadow asked.

“From what I saw, they have two types. The first is their hooves.”

Mirage snorted. “They have a mean kick? Big deal.”

Crescent returned the snort. “It is a big deal. They sharpen their hooves against rocks, bone, and antlers. I watched their hooves cut through bone.”

Through bone? Why were there spare bones lying around a deer village? They weren’t carnivorous. Not unless they had been mutated the same way Seabreeze was. That was a sobering thought, though not literally. Lyra was still in the corner of my vision, but she was gone each time I tried to sneak a glance at her.

Dionysus shuddered and looked down at his own hooves. “That’s crazy.”

Packrat gently kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry. They can’t get us with their hooves if we keep our distance.”

“That’s why they have battle saddles that shoot spears.”

Mirage rounded on Crescent. “The fuck?! They can shoot spears.” When Crescent nodded, Mirage turned towards Shadow with wary eyes. “Yeah, about this whole mission thing….”

“Would you rather these fine citizens rob us blind?”

Mirage’s wary glance fell upon Samson and his companions. She seemed to linger on their weapons. “Not particularly.”

“That’s what I thought, Wings.”

Dionysus still looked uncomfortable, and Mirage sneered at him. “What sounds worse? Getting your leg cut off by their hooves or being shot in the eye with a spear?”

He actually squealed. “A spear to the eye sounds much worse!”

“Does it?” Mirage covered one eye. If my memory was correct, it was the same eye she clawed out after it was hit with Seabreeze’s venom. “Trust me, an eye is no problem. All we need is some Med-X and hydra, and I could fix you right up.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Without waiting for a response, he hugged her. “Oh, thank you, Mirage. You’re such a good friend.”

“Hey, get off me.” She slapped him with her tail repeatedly until he let go.

Dionysus recoiled and rubbed is face. “I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be. Wings is just being a bitch.”

Mirage snorted and started muttering to herself.

Shadow nodded. “So, houses and weapons, Anything else?”

“No. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“This day just keeps getting better and better.”

“I’ll say!” Carbine grinned at me. “I’m really happy to see you again, Symph.”

I nodded and smiled back. You too.

***

We had reached the entrance of the forest. Although I felt almost dirty referring to this as a forest. There was a multitude of trees, but the trees were withered. There wasn’t a hint of green in sight. I saw brown, grey, and white, but no green. I hoped none of the branches fell on anypony. Well, I wouldn’t have been upset if one fell on Samson. From the little I’d heard from him, he seemed to really buy into his father’s plan for a united and better Wasteland. It reminded me of my sister’s blind devotion of Nero. The less zealots in the world the better.

Shadow turned towards Samson. “What do you suggest?”

“Our flyers fly over the woods. They’ll stay out of sight and provide us with cover.” He flicked his gaze onto Crescent and titled his head towards the sky.

She nodded her head. She roughly nudged Mirage with her shoulder and pointed do the sky with her claw.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard your boss.” Mirage grimaced and followed Crescent into the air.

Samson glanced at Carbine. “We’re splitting up. I’m leading one group into the village to meet with the deer. You will take those two.” He paused to indicate Packrat and me. “The three of you will sneak around the village and ambush them from the back if need be. That leaves me with Riverbrooke, Shadow, Dionysus, and the prisoners.”

Strings quickly glanced in my direction. The worry on her face was infectious. I wasn’t sure what I should do to calm her down. I tried to smile, but it felt fake. That likely made her feel worse. Packrat’s smile, however, managed to be at least somewhat comforting. “Don’t worry. Nopony or deer is going to hurt you.” She tapped her chest and then flicked her horn. “I swear on my heart and on my horn.”

I’d never heard that phrase before. I wondered if that was an actual saying or something Packrat was making up for Strings’ sake. The latter seemed to be the more likely option.

Strings looked at Dionysus. “What about the zebra?” she murmured.

Packrat drummed her lips. “My hubby won’t hurt you. He’s too sweet and gentle for that.” She jumped beside him and kissed his cheek. “Can you look after Strings for us, please?” He nodded emphatically. “See, Strings. You’ve got nothing to fear.”

The ghost of a smile crept upon Samson’s lips, but it was gone before anypony could comment on it. “One last thing before we split up. If you hear a loud whistle, that’s the signal to move in. If you hear a second whistle immediately after, that’s the sign to attack.”

Carbine saluted. “Gotcha, Samsy.” He hummed and started walking off.

I took that as my cue to leave. I nodded to Shadow and smiled at Strings. Dionysus was waving. I decided he was only waving at Packrat and didn’t wave back. Templar bowed his head. I wondered if he were praying. Hmph. Let him waste his time. I walked with Packrat and Carbine into the woods. The journey was easier than I thought it’d be. I’d expected there to be guards of some kind. The closest thing to guards were the looming trees. Considering how dead they looked, this did not bode well for the deer.

Packrat looked through her balloon binoculars and held up a hoof. “Okay, I can see the village from here. Just keep walking straight, and we’ll be good to go.”

“Whoa, can I see those?”

“Mh-hmm.” Packrat levitated the binoculars in front of Carbine’s eyes.

“Holy shit, these actually work! This is so cool.” He pushed them back towards Packrat. “What’ll you trade ‘em for?”

She shook her head. “No way would I trade something this cool.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure I’ve got something in this motherfucking bag.”

I chose this time to start ignoring them. I watched the village through Savage’s scope. A pair of deer were speaking with each other. They appeared jovial, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Ignorance was bliss after all. That meant Samson hadn’t made his appearance known yet. I raised my head. Mirage and Crescent were circling above like vultures. I wondered if griffins considered that to be a slur. Oh well. Mirage caught me staring and shook her head. It wasn’t time to move yet. Either that or she thought I was leering and expressed her displeasure.

“So, um, Symphony?” Packrat giggled. “That feels so weird to say.”

“Really? I think him calling himself Savage is weird.” Carbine tapped my shoulder with Anarchy. “Why’d you start doing that?” I didn’t bother trying to respond. “Hey, Symphy, did you hear me?” He kept poking me. I pulled away from the scope, so I could glare at him. He gulped and grinned. “Yeah, guess you could hear me. So, you gonna answer my question?”

I didn’t get the chance. Not that I would have. I heard a whistle. That was the signal for us to move in. I hesitated to see if there would be a second whistle. No, just one. We hadn’t received the signal to attack yet. I tapped Packrat and Carbine each on the back. I was staying here, but I had their backs.

The two of them nodded and made their way towards the village. Savage was best used at a distance, but what I really needed was a good vantage point. I motioned to Mirage and Crescent. Mirage swooped down and landed beside me.

“What?”

I pointed a sturdy looking branch on one of the trees.

“Is there something up there?”

I shook my head. I pointed to myself and then to the branch.

“You’re not asking me to carry you, are you?”

I nodded.

Mirage shook her head. “No offense, Symphony—wow, that’s weird to say. I’m sticking with Savage for now. No offense, Savage, but I think you’re too heavy for me.” I looked up at Crescent. Mirage seemed to understand what I was thinking. “Hold on.” She flew up towards Crescent. The two of them had a quick conversation before flying back down. Without saying a word, the two of them grabbed me and flew me to the branch. I nodded my thank you and readied Savage.

Things were starting to get interesting down there. I could see a herd of deer pointing spears at Samson. Samson was sitting on the buffalo’s, I believe Samson called him Riverbrooke, back and held his hooves in the air. Shadow stood beside them with her hooves in the air as well. The three of them looked unfazed. Dionysus, Templar, and Strings stood beside Shadow. Templar had his eyes closed, and his hooves rested in his lap. He seemed to be meditating. Dionysus and Strings were on the other end of the spectrum. The two of them wouldn’t stop shaking. Be a stallion, Dionysus! Do it for the poor filly beside you.

I focused on Samson. His mouth was moving. Who was he talking to? I moved my scope to look at the deer. They clearly didn’t look happy. A couple of them were sharpening their hooves near the back. They’re all focused on Samson and the others. That was perfect for Carbine and Packrat. They had wasted no time. They trotted quickly but not so quick as to draw attention to themselves. They reached a wooden house at the back of the village and used it as cover. I aimed for the deer closest to them. I heard the second whistle from above, and I shot the buck in the leg.

I could not call what followed a battle. Since there were no casualties, it was no massacre either. Still, I never thought for a second the deer stood a chance. Mirage swooped down with shotgun at the ready. She shot a deer in the side and knocked it onto its side. One of its comrades fired a spear at Mirage. She lashed at the spear with her tail and caught it before it could hit her. She thrust the spear into the first deer’s side. The deer roared and collapsed. The second deer fired its second spear, but Mirage avoided it by taking to the sky.

I heard Dionysus’ shrill voice shrieking. I swiveled Savage to check on him. A spear was lodged into the ground beside him. It had missed but only barely. He squirmed in place but seemed too afraid to move. I tried to find the deer who had shot th—Cadance not above. It seemed Samson had found him first. Even from this distance I heard the wet, sickening, crunch of Samson’s hammer striking the deer’s leg.

The deer’s scream was laden with profanities and unintelligible rage. Every other deer with a battle saddle had their sights set on Samson. They weren’t paying attention to Carbine, Packrat, or the fliers. This couldn’t have gone any better. None of my companions had been harmed or were currently in danger. Meanwhile, a potential threat to us could be removed. I moved Savage’s scope so that it was trained on Samson’s head. I wasn’t stupid enough to pull the trigger. It would be obvious I had fired the shot since none of the deer had bullets. Then we’d be caught in the middle of a complete and total clusterfuck. Not to mention we’d likely be at war with the White Hooves. Killing Samson wasn’t worth the consequences. Although it was tempting.

Samson stared at the deer coldly. He lowered his head and dropped his hammer on the ground. “It seems we have reached an impasse.”

The deer with the largest antlers shouldered his way to the front of the others. He looked at all the wounded, but very much alive, villagers. “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“Just one? I can give you three. First, because I don’t want to kill you. I would much rather have you join the White Hooves and contribute to our society. So, killing me would be unfair. Two, because three of your own will die if you give the order to kill me. You will die. This poor buck will die. And whoever was unlucky enough to fire the killing shot will die. My comrades will make sure of that. Third and lastly, my father will not stand for me being murdered. Especially not while trying to rescue captured comrades. If you kill me, he will come after you. He will kill all of you. And he will burn everything so there will not be any trace left of you in all of Equestria.”

I was suddenly very glad I didn’t decide to pull the trigger. I also moved the scope away from Samson’s head to avoid an accident.

The large-antlered deer hesitated before speaking. “And I don’t kill you?”

“You’ll return our comrades. One of them is our doctor. He can treat your wounded and fix their injuries. My companions and I will escort the leader of this village—which I’m assuming is you—to my father. He will explain to you what it means to join the White Hooves.”

The deer whom Samson attacked spat. “We will not be slaves to some pony—”

“—My father is a zebra.”

“It doesn’t matter!” He glared defiantly through his pain. “Our people will not be slaves.”

Samson regarded him with indifference. “I never said anything about being slaves. Joining the White Hooves means becoming a citizen.”

“Of what?” The eyes of everyone present turned to the small green unicorn. Her revolver levitated beside her. And it was aimed at Samson.

“Oh, shit fuck.” Carbine pointed both Anarchy and Tenacity at Packrat. “Don’t kill Samsy; I actually like him.”

“Squirt.” Shadow’s voice was calm, but I could hear her straining to keep it that way. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Shadow. Just talking with a client.”

The deer exchanged confused looks with each other. So did everyone else. Crescent was pointing her rifle at Packrat, while Mirage was pointing her shotgun at Crescent. The only people who were keeping their heads were Samson, Packrat, and Shadow.

“Oh?” Samson sat down and stared at Packrat with fierce eyes. “What exactly would you like to discuss?”

Packrat didn’t flinch. Her eyes had their own steely glare. “I want my friends and I to leave. I don’t want to be associated with you anymore.”

“That isn’t what we agreed upon.”

Packrat’s only response was to cock Opus.

Samson narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed by your bravery or enraged by your audacity.”

“I think you should take a third option and go fuck yourself.”

Shadow groaned.“What Squirt means to say—”

“—Is that we’re done here. You’ve injured them to the point they can’t fight back. You’re going to get your friends; you made your point. But I’m not going to be a part of whatever this is.”

“Are you really going to shoot me, Hoarder?”

“No.” But she didn’t lower her gun.

Samson turned his head towards the deer with the large antlers. “If these ponies and their zebra leave, will you still submit?”

The deer clenched his teeth. “I never said I would in the first place.”

“You do realize if they leave, my companions will have to fight harder to ensure their safety. In those circumstances, they may disobey my orders about keeping you all alive.”

“I am aware.” The deer’s voice wavered.

That seemed to be enough for Samson. He looked at Shadow and waved his hoof. “Our business is concluded. The Boulder Springs ponies are free to leave.”

My time in the Wasteland had made me wary. I returned Savage onto Samson. I’d risk his father’s wrath if it meant keeping Packrat safe. If Samson made any violent act or signaled his companions to attack, I’d kill him. Luckily for him, he didn’t make any such movements. I checked Carbine and Riverbrooke. They were both following Samson’s orders. I raised to my head to check on Crescent.

She strapped her rifle to her back. Mirage swooped up to meet her. Without saying a word, the two of them helped lower me from the tree. I nodded my thanks. Mirage grimaced; Crescent returned to the skies. Mirage and I entered the village from the rear. I passed Carbine on the way in. I smiled at him and put a hoof on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you too. See you around?”

Who knows?

Mirage and I trotted past the injured deer. The apparent leader rubbed his sharpened hooves together as he looked at us. I considered smiling at him but decided against it. Even if I properly conveyed sympathy, it would likely anger him further. The last thing I wanted was to add further fuel to his inner fire. At least while I could still be attacked.

Mirage and I joined the others. Packrat didn’t even smile at us. The only one who did was Strings. Shadow was frowning; Templar looked tired, and Dionysus’ lip was quivering. Packrat moved to my side. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

A tiny smirk appeared on Samson’s face. “Are you afraid I’ll shoot you, Hoarder?”

Packrat didn’t reply, and the quiet that followed Samson’s question remained with us well into the night.

***

Our group trotted in silence. That wasn’t saying much for Strings or me. A quiet Packrat, on the other hoof, was strange. Given that the last time she had been quiet was when she was contemplating suicide, I was worried. I nudged her.

Packrat shrieked and jumped into the air.

Mirage had her shotgun out immediately. “What happened?!”

I raised my hoof and then tilted my head towards Packrat.

Packrat chuckled. “Sorry about that. False alarm. I’m, um, a bit jittery.” She whispered to me. “I keep thinking Shadow’s gonna yell at me.”

“Don’t you worry, Squirt. I will.”

Packrat gulped.

“The problem is I’m not sure how angry I should be. We were strong-hoofed into a situation we had no business being involved in. You managed to get us out with no pony—or zebra—getting shot. That being said, you turned a simple job into a near clusterfuck. Not to mention we didn’t get the caps either. If you pulled something like that during the war you’d have been court-martialed or shot on the spot. That’s not okay.”

Packrat lowered her head. “I know.”

“And that’s the worst part. We both know you know better, and you still fucked up. So, tell me, Squirt, what was going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Um, I wanted to save the deer he hit with the hammer.”

“You mean the one he wasn’t going to kill?”

Packrat winced at Shadow’s harsh tone. “Yeah…. I didn’t believe him.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Mirage looked disgusted by the question. “She cares about other ponies, that’s why. Without her hero complex she wouldn’t have saved me.” I snorted. “Oh, yeah. I supposed he helped too.”

Dionysus stood beside his wife. “She also didn’t want to shoot me or my siblings, because she didn’t want any pony or zebra to get hurt.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Packrat is best pony.”

“Awww.” Packrat giggled and kissed him back. “And you’re best zebra.”

Shadow turned towards me. “I assume you have a story of her being a hero too, Sparkles?”

I did. She shot Lysandra in the face and helped me fight the hellhound. She followed me into the building because she thought I might be in danger. Mirage was right about Packrat being a good pony. That being said—or thought—there was also a fine line between heroic and stupid. Packrat came dangerously close to crossing it at times.

She entered a potentially dangerous building alone with no way of knowing if I were a raider or not. To save Mirage, Packrat travelled across the border while knowing nothing of the Crystal Wasteland. Not to mention neither of us knew if Mirage’s distress signal was real or a trap. She spared Lamentation despite him being a raider. Fuck Lamentation. She volunteered to help fight Seabreeze just to keep her mind off shooting Moonscape. And she refused to fight the Grecos. An act that put my life and Mirage’s in danger. Packrat was a hero as much as she was an idiot. Above all, she was lucky. She had suffered, yes, but this was the Wasteland. Even the luckiest of ponies couldn’t avoid suffering forever. I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer Packrat’s luck would keep her, and by extension the rest of us, alive and mostly well.

I shrugged in response to Shadow’s question.

I could almost feel Shadow rolling her eyes. “I understand the point you’re all making. Here’s mine. Squirt put us all in danger back there; I’m not happy about that. If there’s some reason for her hero complex, I want to know what it is.”

Packrat shook her head. “That’s not fair, Shadow! You can’t just demand I share my personal life without giving me anything from yours.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Then I can and won’t answer your question.” She plopped down and crossed her front hooves. “See? How do you like it?”

“Fine, then. How about a compromise?”

Packrat was trying to appear upset, but she was doing a terrible job. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you the chance to ask me one question. It can be any one question, and I promise to give you a legitimate response. If I do that, you have to tell me about your hero complex. Deal.”

“Deal.” Packrat didn’t hesitate. “What’s your real name, Shadow?”

Shadow sighed and rubbed her neck. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t ask me that one.”

“Would you prefer she ask you about your wings?” Templar asked.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Tin Stallion. Your contract does say alive or dead.” Templar didn’t seem bothered by Shadow’s threat. That caused her to sigh again. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but only on the condition that you never call me by my name.”

“Even if I like it?”

“Even if you like it.”

Packrat narrowed her eyes and rubbed her chin. “You drive a hard bargain, Shadow, but I accept.” She spat on her hoof and extended it.

Shadow did the same. Dionysus squirmed at the sight of them touching spit-covered hooves. Good Goddess not above. If he couldn’t handle a little saliva how was he going to handle the Wasteland? The two mares scraped their hooves against the ground and sat across from each other. Shadow touched her chest with a clean hoof. “I’ll start us off then. My designation during the war was Shadowbolt 007. Codename Prism—”

“—Hey, I wanted your real name.”

“I was getting to that, Squirt.”

Packrat instantly shut up, zipped her mouth closed, and threw away the key.

Shadow looked at all of us. “Are there going to be any more interruptions?”

Mirage glowered. “Are you going to keep stalling?”

There was a deep sigh. “Lightning Dust.”

Packrat’s eyes widened. “Can you say that again?”

“No.”

“But it’s so cool!” Packrat plopped onto her haunches with a sour face. “You all have such cool names. Even Strings sounds adorable.” Strings averted her eyes at the mention of her name, but I did notice her small smile. “Why’d I get stuck with the name Packrat?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, Squirt. Hero complex. Go.”

“Oh, right. That. Um….” She tapped the side of her face. “I grew up in Stable 76—”

“—I already know that, Squirt.”

Packrat pointed to Strings and Templar. “Yeah, but they don’t.”

Mirage frowned and furrowed her brow. “I don’t know if I knew that either.”

Shadow waved her hoof. “Fine. You grew up in 76.”

Packrat nodded. “Mh-hmm. For those of you I haven’t told, Stable 76 was run by a council of ponies. Every four years the council was up for election.”

“The fuck is an election?” Mirage asked.

“It means we could vote on if they should keep their jobs or not. If somepony lost, they’d get replaced with another pony.”

Mirage shook her head. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Templar nodded. “I’m surprised I’m agreeing with an NCR pony, but it does sound peculiar.”

Yes, it did. I wondered how different the Crystal Wasteland would be if Nero lost one of these elections. Lyra would likely still be alive, and my sister wouldn’t have cut my throat. Hmm. These elections didn’t sound so bad.

Packrat, on the other hoof, didn’t seem as enthralled with the subject. “I know it sounds weird, but the elections didn’t really matter. The ponies who had power tended to stay in power. They had the resources to keep their competition quiet. Me and my friends were at the bottom of the Stable’s hierarchy. We were orphans. We didn’t have a lot of food or possessions. It was easy for the other ponies to just ignore us.” She grinned. “Which made it easier to sneak into places and steal stuff.”

“That explains the greed,” Shadow muttered.

“Hey!” Packrat pointed a hoof at Shadow. “That’s not—” She hesitated and turned to the side. “Actually, I think that is true.” She put her hoof down. “Sorry for pointing at you.”

Shadow shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’ve had worse done to me.”

Packrat shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

I knew she was joking, but she sounded sincere. I cast a quick glance at Mirage. She wore the same slightly confused look as I did. We shared a shrug.

“Anyway, my, um, hero complex-thingy. I guess I was so used to looking out for my friends that it became second nature.” Packrat blinked, and the balefire bomb went off in her gaze. “I really hated the ponies who ran my Stable. They made our lives miserable just because they wanted more power. What Samson was saying about making the deer citizens and stuff reminded me of them. When he broke that poor deer’s leg….” She blinked again, and her eyes had their usual spark. “So, um, are you still mad at me?”

“Of course I am.”

Packrat lowered her head. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“But you’re not the only one.” Shadow then turned towards me. “And what’s your excuse?”

Pardon? I cocked an eyebrow.

Shadow reached into her saddlebag and dropped a syringe on the ground. “Look familiar, Sparkles?”

I kept my silence.

“Thought so,” she grunted. “And even after I told you drugs were dangerous. But clearly nopony listens to me anyways.”

“I listen to you, Auntie Shadow.”

Templar rattled his chain. “I have no say in the matter.”

“You know, surprisingly, that didn’t make me feel any better.”

Dionysus looked legitimately hurt by her sarcastic tone; Templar didn’t appear bothered in the slightest.

Shadow sat down and gazed towards the horizon. “It was dumb luck this village wasn’t too far out of the way. We’ll have to make up some time trotting back east, but we’re on schedule as far as north goes. And after that clusterfuck, I’d rather not have to do any travelling tonight. I’m old; my bones ache. We’ll make camp soon and leave first thing in the morning. And I mean first. If any of you lollygag, I’ll leave you behind. That goes double for you, Sparkles.” She kicked the syringe towards me. “If you want to kill yourself, do it on your own time.”

I stared at the syringe. Kill myself? Hardly. I was finally enjoying myself. I had no intention of dying in the near future. Right about now, I wouldn’t have given two shits if Shadow dropped dead…-okay, that wasn’t true. We might not be on good terms right now, but I still liked the old buzzard. This had just been a long day with emotions running high.

I glanced at her. Lightning Dust. I wondered what kind of mare she was back when her name meant something. What had she looked like? Had she been beautiful? She certainly still had the figure. My eyes wandered towards the nubs on her sides. She’d had wings once, hadn’t she? She had them in Ms. Do’s story. What had happened to them? I had the impression she’d never tell me.

“You can stop ogling me, Sparkles.” I rolled my eyes; she laughed. “While flattery is appreciated, but you’re still on my shit list right now.”

Mirage’s nose wrinkled. “You have weird tastes, Savage.”

This wasn’t worth arguing when I could just ignore both of them. I continued to ignore them for the next three hours, as we continued to make our way east. As it turned out, Shadow’s bones didn’t ache as much as she let on. We only stopped to make camp when the sun set. Mirage had the first watch of the night; I was expressly forbidden from keeping watch at all. I wasn’t sure if Shadow was attempting to guilt trip me or if she intended to give me free time to indulge. I supposed it didn’t matter. So long as I didn’t lollygag, as she put it. Ugh. An impressively stupid word if there ever was one.

“Hey, Symphony?”

So much for Mirage sticking with Savage. My body shuddered at the sound. Strange. It didn’t do that before. Perhaps being around Carbine made the name seem normal. Now it felt foreign. No wonder Shadow didn’t want to be called Lighting Dust.

“You awake?”

I tapped my hoof against the ground.

“Same here.”

Really? I couldn’t have guessed.

“Keep me company, would ya? It’s boring being awake by myself.”

I supposed I might as well. I wasn’t tired yet. I approached Mirage and sat down.

“So…-Savage, Symphony, or do you not care?”

I tapped my hoof once.

“You prefer Savage?”

I nodded.

“Symphony it is then.”

Fuck you too, Mirage.

“So, Symphony.” She seemed to relish how much I hated hearing that. “Why do you take that shit?”

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t any of her business.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me. I’ve got my secrets too.”

Oh? I nudged her and nodded.

She scoffed. “I’m not tellin’ you shit. You want secrets? Ask Squirt—” Shadow whinnied loudly in her sleep. Mirage shuddered. “Ask Packrat.” She chuckled dryly. “I can admit it does hurt just a tiny bit. I mean, you’d rather inject yourself with poison than come to the NCR with me.”

I scoffed.

She rounded on me and jabbed her wing at me. “How else am I supposed to interpret that?”

Not like an idiot. I shrugged and looked away.

“Wow. What an intelligent and well thought out answer. I’m so glad we’re having this talk.”

I glared at her; she rolled her eyes at me.

“Are you planning on doing it again, tonight?”

I glared at her. That wasn’t her business either.

She met my glare with one of her own. “Oh, shut up. I have every right to ask that, and you know it. As long as we’re travelling together, your survival is important to mine.” She groaned and tapped her hooves lightly against the dirt. “Besides, you and Packrat saved me. I feel responsible for the two of you. Like I owe you, ya know?” She shook her head. “Look. I’m not going to stop you if you are. My job is to watch out for our enemies, not our friends. Just don’t kill yourself while I’m on duty, alright?”

If she was trying to be nice, she was doing a bizarre job. I supposed I could do her that small curtesy. Though I had no intention of showing the same restraint when Dionysus was on duty. I pointed to him.

“Yeah, sure. Fuck him.”

The two of us laughed, and I lied down. Mirage almost looked jealous when she looked down at me. “You look so comfortable down the—” She yawned loudly and rubbed her face with her wing.

I tapped the space beside me with my hoof.

“Don’t tempt me, Symphony. I’m pretty sure Shadow would flay me if she saw me slacking off.”

In that case just switch out. I titled my head towards Dionysus.

Mirage shook her head. “I can’t. I was taught as a kid to always pull my weight for the betterment of the majority.” She yawned a second time and smacked her lips. “I can do another hour. Mind waiting to kill yourself for that long?”

I did mind. I could feel my muscles twitching in anticipation. I closed my eyes and imagined the sensation of the venom coursing through my body. It sounded horrible; it felt amazing. It was enough to hold myself at bay but only just.

After what felt like far longer than one measly hour, Mirage moved. She arched her body backwards and rolled her shoulders. “Okay. It’s been about an hour. I’ll see you in the morning, Symphony.”

I waved my hoof. Good night.

Mirage stood over Dionysus and jabbed at his chest with her wing. His body writhed at her touch, but he remained asleep. Mirage jabbed him again, but he still would not wake. Mirage threw her head back and groaned loudly. Frustrated, she kicked the back of his head. His eyes snapped open, and he jumped to his hooves…-only to promptly curl into a ball and cover his head with his hooves. Mirage and I shared a glance. She jabbed her wing at his hoof.

“It’s just me, stupid.”

Dionysus turned his trembling head around. Once he saw Mirage, his body relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I—”

She held up a hoof to silence him. “Honestly? I don’t care. Just go up on that rock and keep watch. If you see something, wake up Shadow or Packrat.”

“Shouldn’t I wake you up too?”

“Not if you want to live.” When Dionysus whimpered, Mirage sighed. “Sorry. I’m just really tired and cranky, alright. Just let me sleep.” Mirage lowered her head and wrapped herself in a wing-cocoon. Within seconds I heard her snoring.

“Good night,” Dionysus whispered. He slowly trotted onto the watch rock.

I wasted no time. I took a new syringe from my bag and filled it halfway. I hadn’t had any today, so this would be a more potent session. I injected the syringe into my leg and allowed the venom to work its magic.

Author's Note

Author’s note

Hey, all. Sorry that this one's late. I had a final yesterday and forgot to upload it. My bad. I'm also sorry there wasn't an author's note at the end of the last chapter. I was really tired when I uploaded the chapter, so I just skipped it that time.

In terms of actual notes, I deliberately decided to decrease the frequency that Symphony gets levels. It's not a major thing, but if you're expecting a new level and footnote at the end of each chapter you might end up being disappointed. Since he's a higher level it would take more experience to level up, and it might be a while till he actually earns enough experience. Probably once they reach Vanhoover, which will happen soon. I've had some fun experimenting with the look of the city. I hope I can convey what I'm seeing in my head, because I think it's really cool. I hope you will too, and that you're enjoying Appetence so far.

As always, I want to thank Kkat for writing the original story, other authors for contributing to the universe, and to the readers who care about Symphony and his companions. Thanks a lot. I mean that. See you in the next one!

3.3: Comfortably Numb

3.3 Comfortably Numb

“Hello. Is there anybody in there?”

I could hear voices. They were so loud, but I had no idea what they were saying. Despite the volume, they sounded distant. I couldn’t see anything. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt so heavy. I struggled, but they just wouldn’t open. The rest of my body felt the same. Was this even my body? It felt so foreign. So distant.

***

The morning came quicker than I thought. I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to stay in bed with my lovely wife. I turned my head. She wasn’t there.

“Lyra?”

“I’m in the shower, love.”

The bed was overrated anyways. I slithered out of bed and towards the shower. The bathroom was covered in a thin mist. Alas, it was thick enough to keep Lyra’s body covered through the glass door of the shower room. Lyra was in the middle of washing her hair when she noticed me. She shook her head. “You know, I’d rather you looked at me that way before I got in the shower. I don’t want to take another one.”

“You don’t necessarily need to take another shower.”

“With the way your mind works? One more shower might not be enough.”

I chuckled. The mist was thinning out, and I took a moment to admire my wife’s wet figure.

“Would you be a dear and wake our daughter?”

“In a minute. I’m busy.”

Lyra levitated her towel from the rack and wrapped it around her body. “Now, Symphony.”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

Lyra blew me a kiss, and I left the room. Across the hallway was our daughter’s bedroom. It was full of her collection of dolls and puppets. I could never figure out where she’d gotten such a strange, and admittedly unpleasant, fascination. Still, she was my daughter. I loved her no matter how bizarre her hobbies.

I rapped on her bedroom door. “Strings. Are you awake?”

Her response was an unintelligible grumble.

“Use your words, darling.”

“I said, ‘Yes, Dad.’”

“Good. I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast.”

I walked down the stairs into the kitchen-dining room area. I walked past Packrat, who was sitting at the counter, towards the fridge to find breakfast.

“Morning, Symphony.”

“Good morning, Packr…-how did you get inside?”

She pointed behind her, as she slurped her cereal. “Back door was open.”

“You could have called first.”

“Pfft.” She drummed her lips, which unfortunately caused milk to dribble onto the floor. “Come on, neighbor. To me an unlocked door is practically an invitation.”

“An invitation to ignore your impending doom.”

She groaned. The cereal bowl clattered onto the counter. Luckily, it didn’t break or spill. Packrat dropped her head into the bowl. She said something, but she was muffled by the milk.

Packrat had married a young zebra named Dionysus a couple years ago. He seemed like a decent kid. A complete and total pansy, but at least he treated Packrat well. His mother, on the other hoof, never let the poor girl catch a break. It was Hearth’s Warming Season, and Old Lady Shadow was going to be spending some time with Packrat and Dionysus. Cadance bless Packrat’s soul.

“Hey, Symph?” She’d raised her head out of the milk, which was now dripping from her face onto the counter and the floor. “Can you do me a favor?”

“That depends? Will you stop dripping milk everywhere?”

She quickly shook her head to dry it. She slung milk all over the kitchen and dining room, but at least she wasn't dripping.

“Old Lady Shadow is coming tomorrow, and I need to cook something.”

I had a flashback of the last time Packrat tried to cook something. I could still smell the smoke. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Exactly! That’s why I need you to help me make something.”

“Hey, Aunt Packrat.” Strings trotted down the stairs and entered the kitchen. She had on her school’s winter uniform, a white button up shirt and black sweats. She was also wearing the green bow Packrat had given her last Hearth’s Warming, and the red pendant Lyra and I gave her on her sixteenth birthday.

Packrat lifted a hoof. “Hey, squigger.”

“Strings, would you be a dear and help your Auntie cook something after school?”

My daughter’s face turned pale, as she put some bread in the toaster. “Oh, gee. I have this, uh….” I could see the gears turning in her head. “Science project! Yeah. I have a project I have to do, so I can’t….”

I shook my head. “Nonsense. I’m sure whatever your Aunt cooks could be turned in as your project.”

Now my daughter was glaring at me. “That’s not funny, Dad.” She kept up her glare, as she removed the toast from the toaster and scarfed it down.

“But it’s truuuue!” Packrat plopped her head on the counter and sobbed. “I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not wrong.”

She groaned. “Why can’t you help me, Symph?”

“I have to drop off my daughter and get groceries for Lyra.” Packrat’s eyes lit up for a moment. “No, you can’t help Lyra cook. I prefer to keep my food edible. And I have to pick up my sister this afternoon.”

“’Chestra’s coming! Why can’t she help me?”

“Because I like my sister-in-law and want her all to myself.” Lyra sauntered down the stairs. She wrapped her hooves around my neck and gently kissed it. “You do realize I only married you for your sister, right?”

“Sounds fair. I only married you for your body.”

She pouted. “Now that’s just hurtful.”

I turned my head and kissed the tip of her horn. “I’m sorry, love.”

She snickered. “How about you—”

“Mom, Dad. Could you two not do that in front of me?” Strings’ shuddered and wrinkled her nose. “I just ate.”

“Fine, fine.” Lyra waved her hoof. “I’ll see you two later then.” She rounded on Packrat. “As for you, clean up this mess.”

“What mess?”

Lyra motioned to the milk all over the kitchen with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, you can’t prove that was me.” To emphasize her point, she stomped her hoof. Of course, she stomped her hoof inside the bowl and splashed milk all over the counter.

Lyra said nothing; she didn’t have to.

“Okay, fine. I’ll help.”

“Thank you.” Lyra glanced at me. “You’re still here?”

I rolled my eyes. I put half a bagel in my mouth and headed for the door. “Come on, Strings.”

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Aunt Packrat.”

Packrat waved. “See ya, squigger. Bye, Symph.”

Lyra cleared her throat.

Strings stopped in her tracks and groaned. “Mom.”

Lyra cleared her throat a second time.

“Fine.” Strings trotted beside Lyra and pecked her on the cheek.

“Thank you, sweetie. Make good choices.”

“I will.”

My daughter walked out the door, and I closed the door behind us.

***

I was able to open my eyes. I wish I hadn’t. I was surrounded by beings that could only be describes as the incarnations of horror. One of them was a large black shadow. The shadow didn’t walk so much as twitch violently. After a few twitches, it would appear in a different spot. The shadow had no discernable features. It was a nothing more or less than a mass of darkness…-no, that wasn’t true. I could see one of its features now. I could see its eyes. Its piercing red eyes. And they were pointed at me.

It spoke. I couldn’t understand its language. A language that sounded like a knife being scraped against a rock. The shadow was screeching. I could feel the sound grating against my ears. I covered my ears to hide the sound, but it didn’t help. My hooves felt wet. I moved them from my ears and looked down. My hooves were stained red with blood. The screeching was so loud and unworldly that my ears couldn’t take it.

The screeching was followed by the sound of growling. I turned towards the sound of the growling. A bat-like pony stood beside the shadow. The bat looked vaguely familiar. After looking at the shadow, seeing a pony was reassuring. The bat caught me looking and smiled. When she smiled, she showed me her fangs. Her long, sharp, fangs. Her teeth were stained red, and blood slowly dripped from her fangs. Her eyes glowed as she looked at me. She looked excited. Almost hungry.

The shadow screeched again. The bat looked away from me and growled back. The two of them went back and forth. I couldn’t understand a thing they were saying. I started looking around to see if there was anyone I could understand. I found four other…-forms. I couldn’t even call them beings, because I wasn’t sure what one of them was. It was a series of white and black wavering lines. The lines were a formless mass much like the shadow. It was unsettling due to how bizarre it was, but it was by no means scary. Still, I had no way of communicating with it.

Beside the lines was…-I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. From the neck up, it was a pony. From the neck down, it was a hybrid of pony and machine. A collar was attached to the pony’s neck with rusty nails. Patches of flesh had been replaced with chunks of metal. The pony’s stomach was open, revealing metal organs, wires, and a beating heart. The hybrid was quiet. It looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. I immediately averted my gaze. I couldn’t look at it for a moment longer.

Beside him was a filly. A suture ran down the middle of the filly’s face. The right side of her face appeared timid. Her right eye kept avoiding eye contact with me, while the right corner of her mouth was attempting a smile. The left side of her face had a maniacal look. The left eye frantically moved around and glared at whatever it looked at. The left part of the mouth was either smirking or laughing. The right half almost seemed afraid of the left half. So was I.

I felt something touch my shoulder. I whipped my head around to see what abomination was behind me. To my surprise, there was no abomination. It was just a pony. A small green unicorn. There were still some oddities. She had buckteeth and a handlebar moustache. After what I had just seen, I’d take the teeth and facial hair any day.

“Are you alright, Symphony?”

Symphony? Was that me? It sounded so familiar.

***

“Good morning.”

The cashier grunted. “What’s good about it?”

“You didn’t die in your sleep.”

He rolled his eyes and scanned the milk. “Just my luck.”

I glanced down at his nametag. “Having a bad day, Templar?”

“Bad year.”

“Anything I could do?”

“Yes.” He finished scanning and bagged the items. “Pay the money and leave me alone.”

I should’ve been mad about the rude customer service, but I was prying where I wasn’t wanted. I could understand that. I paid, smiled, and left with my groceries. Time check. It was…-9:30. ‘Chestra would be landing in an hour, and I’d need about forty-five minutes to get there. Not a problem if the traffic gods permitted.

By the time I arrived, it was 10:45. My sister was waiting for me outside in the blistering wind. She stood unflinching in her CDF uniform. And she was tapping her hoof. Great. I parked the car and stepped out to grab her luggage.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I had other errands to run and traffic didn’t forgive me for that.”

“And those other errands were more important than your big sister?”

“I had to drop off my daughter and get food for dinner.”

“All is forgiven.”

I put her bags in the trunk, and we hit the road.

“How was your flight?”

“Terrible.” She leaned the chair back as far as she could. “I had two flights. The Crystal Empire to Baltimare, and then Baltimare to Vanhoover.”

“You couldn’t get a direct flight?”

“No,” she scoffed. “Every flight had a layover. I tried to find one that would take me to Neighagra, but they were way too expensive.” She wrinkled her nose and sneezed.

“Bless you.”

Instead of saying thank you, she glared at me. “I’m only sneezing, because you left me out in the cold for fifteen minutes.”

“You could’ve waited inside the airport.”

“And deal with the smell? No, thank you.”

“Speaking of smell, Lyra bought a new perfume.”

“Of course, she did. She knew I was coming.” She smirked. “You do know she only married you for me, right?”

“Why didn’t she just marry you?”

“Because you need her more than I do.”

Oh. I thought I’d stumped her, but that was a good retort. A little too good. I was about to ask her about it when my phone started ringing.

“I’ll get that for you.” ‘Chestra picked up my phone. “Symphony’s phone, Orchestra speaking…. I’m his sister…. Yes, it does.” Her tone turned serious. I cast her a questioning glance. She held up a hoof for a moment. “Okay, he’ll be right there. Thank you.” She put down the phone and hung up.

“What happened?”

“Your daughter got into a fight is what happened.”

“WHAT?!”

She winced. “Could you not shout at me? My ears are just now recovering from the flight.”

“Sorry.”

She grunted. “They didn’t tell me much since I’m not her parent. She got into a fight with some colt. Both of them are in the principal’s office.”

My daughter fighting? I couldn’t believe it. “Did she at least win?”

“If she did what I taught her, then she should’ve.”

I gave her an incredulous stare. “And just what have you been teaching my daughter?”

She waved her hoof. “Nothing to lose your head over. Just basic self-defense. A couple grapples, pressure points. How to disarm someone with a knife.”

I narrowed my eyes. “She’s not joining the CDF, ‘Chestra.”

“I know that. She wants to study anatomy. I think she should.”

“Then why are you teaching her all this?”

Now it was her turn to stare incredulously. “Because she’s not a filly anymore. She’s a young mare and a damn cute one at that. She needs to be able to defend herself if some stallion or another mare doesn’t take no for an answer.”

That sounded so bizarre to me. I still saw her as my little girl. The thought of her having sex…-good Cadance, I threw up in my mouth.

‘Chestra smirked at my discomfort. “Have you given her the talk yet, or do I have to teach her that too?”

“Lyra said she’d handle that.”

“I can always help Lyra with that. Especially if we need a physical demonstration.”

“You want to teach my daughter about sex by fucking her mother right in front of her?”

‘Chestra blinked. Clearly, she hadn’t understood what she really said. The right half of her face scrunched up. “Well when you put it like that.” She yawned and closed her eyes. “I’m going to retreat from this conversation and take a nap. Wake me up when you pick up Strings.”

“Will do.”

***

I wasn’t walking so much as I was being dragged along. After every step I heard the sound of rattling chains. I also couldn’t escape discomfort around my neck. My neck felt tight, and I could feel something scraping against it. Something metallic.

“He’s awake.”

I blinked. I actually understood that. I looked in the direction of the voice and saw the hybrid pony. Although they were more pony than machine now. The chest cavity had been closed, so I no longer saw the metal and wires. Some of the metal chunks had been replaced by actual flesh, though the new flesh did have wires protruding out of it. The key difference was the collar with the rusty nails had disappeared. I glanced down. The rusty nails were no longer there, but I saw a weathered metal collar around my own neck.

“How’re you feeling?” the hybrid asked.

Confused. I poked at the metal collar. I was rewarded by the sound of incoherent screeching. The shadow rounded on me. It was more than formless darkness now. The darkness had formed into the shape of a masked pegasus. I couldn’t see the shadow’s red eyes, but I could see their glow behind the mask. The shadow jabbed at hoof at the collar and then pointed to the hybrid.

I shook my head at what I was experiencing.

The bat appeared beside me. Her fangs were still dripping, but she didn’t look hungry anymore. “Did you understand any of that?” She was still growling her words, but I could understand them. I shook my head again. Now her growl was unintelligible. She pointed to the shadow with one of her wings. “Shadow was getting sick of your shit. So, she decides that if you couldn’t walk we’d drag you.” She pointed her other wing at the hybrid. “She decided to trust you in his care. She said, and I quote, ‘Your contract is dead or alive. If you decide to run, I’ll just shoot you. And I’m a damn good shot.’ So far, he hasn’t tried to run.”

So that was the chain’s purpose. I had become such a liability one of the prisoners had more freedom than I. I supposed it could have been worse. I could’ve been left behind for lollygagging. Hold on a moment. Wasn’t I responsible for one of the prisoners? What happened to her? I quickly found her attached to the wavering lines. The lines hadn’t changed, but she had. The suture no longer ran down the middle of her face. It was at an angle under her left eye. It remained frantic and malicious. The rest of her face was unified. Her left eye glared at me, while the rest of her face smiled. I focused on the smile rather than the glare. It was a very nice smile.

***

My daughter smiled at me. I didn’t smile back. I couldn’t. I wasn’t upset with her. Far from it. According to what she’d told me outside, a colt she went to school with touched her flank inappropriately, and she fought him off. ‘Chestra may have been right after all. If anything, I was proud of my daughter. I couldn’t smile, because I was too angry at the situation.

I was currently sitting in the principal’s office. I left my sister sleeping in the car. My daughter sat next to me. On the other side of the room was the other child. He was greasy looking pegasus. He sat with his front hooves crossed and slumped in the chair. He was chewing on something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Beside him sat his mother. A mauve Nocti with a dark blue mane and bright amber eyes. Oh, no.

She snorted when she caught me looking. “Like what you see, asshole?”

“You’re looking well, Mirage.”

“And you look the same as ever.” She looked at Strings for a moment before returning her attention on me. “Cute kid.”

“Apparently yours thought the same.”

“It was an accident!” the colt whined.

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Enough, please.” The Vice Principal spoke.

She sat behind a large desk and gazed at us with her beautiful blue eyes. I could tell she was the vice principal because of the golden VP pin attached to her pink dress. In addition to the suit, she had a on a gaudy hat. The hat may have been a bit much, but it didn’t detract from the rest of her. Sweet Celestia, she was attractive. I wondered if Lyra had the fortune of meeting this mare yet. She kept offering me a threesome for my birthday….

“Dad,” Strings whispered harshly. “Could you stop looking at Vice Principal Lysandra like that? It’s embarrassing.”

I coughed and adjusted my manner of staring from ogle to paying attention.

Lysandra flipped her scarlet mane. She smiled lasciviously at me very briefly before adopting the stern frown of a disciplinarian. “Vanhoover High School has a no tolerance policy for fighting. Under said policy, Principal Pie would suspend the two of you on the spot.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“It was self-defense!”

Lysandra held up her hoof. “Fortunately for the two of you, the Principal is away on personal matters. That leaves the matter of your punishment in my hooves.”

She sounded a little too delighted at the prospect. I shared a look with my daughter. If Strings’ expression was anything to go by, yes, Lysandra was always like this.

Lysandra motioned to the colt with her hoof. “Toothpick, I’d like to hear your side of the story. Strings, you’ll present your side of the story after. Is this agreeable?” Both the kids nodded. Lysandra levitated a pen and a scroll beside her. “Please start with how you know Strings.”

He shrugged. “There’s not a lot to tell. Strings and I have been going to school together since Mom and I moved here in middle school. She seemed like a nice filly.”

“Do you see her very often?”

He shook his head. “I see her around the school, and we have PE together. I see her sometimes at the mall and stuff, but we don’t really talk much.”

Lysandra nodded and wrote something down.

Mirage didn’t look happy; there was a surprise. “Why does any of this matter when she gave my son a black eye?”

Lysandra smiled an overly-pleasant smile at Mirage. “Your colt said it best. Strings seems like a nice filly. I want to see if there’s anything in their history that would cause her to lash out as aggressively as she did.”

Strings nodded. “Uh, yeah. There is.”

Toothpick glared at her. “She said you’d get your turn after.”

“You’ve already talked, so I am going after.”

You tell him, honey.

Lysandra pointed to Strings with her pen. “Strings, you have something to add?”

“Yeah, he’s a creeper.”

“Am not!”

“Well, yeah. A creeper’s not gonna admit to being a creeper.”

The cracks were beginning to form in Lysandra’s enthusiasm. “Would you care to explain what you mean by ‘creeper.’”

“Yeah.” Strings sat up confidently and pointed at the slovenly colt. “Like he said, we have PE together. What he didn’t say is that he’s always staring at me. You can ask anypony; they all see it.”

“I don’t stare.”

“So then what do you do? Ogle me intensely?”

“My eyes just wander.”

“And they usually land on my flank!”

Lysandra looked at us parents. Neither of us said anything. I was proud of my daughter for standing up for herself. I assumed Mirage felt the same. Once she realized we wouldn’t step in, Lysandra sighed. “Aside from the accused staring, is there anything else?”

“Yes, he follows me after school sometimes.”

That caught Lysandra’s attention. “He follows you?”

“I’ve never done that.”

Strings didn’t even respond to him. “Whenever I hang out with my friends, I always see him there. And he’s always watching us.”

“What? So it’s a crime for me to go to the mall on a Friday?”

“It is when it happens every single time.”

Lysandra wrote something down.

Mirage’s lips curled when she saw that. “What’re you writing?”

Lysandra didn’t reply. She finished writing and put her pen down. “Toothpick, could you tell me what happened during the incident?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He was starting to sound less assertive. Did that mean my daughter was telling the truth? I didn’t believe she was lying, of course. It was just strange to think that my daughter was being stalked. And that she’d never told me about it. I hugged her. She hugged me back.

“We were passing each other in the hall after first period. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I was feeling tired. While walking I lost my balance a little. I bumped into Strings. I looked at her to say sorry, and she kicked me right in the face. I fell down, and she jumped on me and started smashing her hoof into my face.” He rubbed his swollen lip. “It still hurts.”

Lysandra took some notes on what he said. She looked at Strings. “Does your story differ from his?”

She nodded. “A little. He did look a bit tired and more clumsy than usual.”

“See? I’m inno—”

“But he seemed to wake up when he saw me walking towards him. He didn’t just casually bump into me. He slapped my flank with his hoof. And when he turned around, I saw him smirking at me. And when I saw that smirk, I hit him. And I hit him again. And again.”

I noticed Lysandra didn’t write anything down. She cast a glance at Toothpick, nodded, and looked down at her notes. “There is a lot to consider here—”

“Like Tartarus it is.” Mirage pointed at Strings. “She just admitted to assaulting my son.”

“It was self-defense,” I growled.

“’It was self-defense.’” Mirage drummed her lips. “He touched her on accident.”

“You sure you can say that after he’s been stalking my daughter.”

“According to her. She has no proof.”

“She said she has friends who can verify her story.”

“Oh, how convenient!”

“Enough!” Lysandra took a deep breath. “As I was saying, I have a lot of information to process. I will also be conducting an investigation and collecting witness testimonies from today’s incident. I will inform both your households of my decision before the day is done. For now, I think it best you both leave with your parents for the day. Is this agreeable?”

“Yeah, fine.” Mirage didn’t sound happy at all. “Carbine’s gonna lose his head when he hears about this.” She looked down at her colt. “I hope for your sake this really was an accident.” She stood up and opened the door. She scowled at me once before leaving. Her son slinked after her.

I stood up to leave, but Lysandra held up a hoof. She said nothing; her ears were angled towards the door. Mirage and her son’s hoofsteps continued. Slowly but surely they grew fainter. Once they were no longer audible, Lysandra put her hoof down.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think this was an accident. Based on what you told me, Strings, my first instinct is to suspend him. Possibly even further.”

“You believe me?”

“Of course. However, I do need to conduct an investigation. If you could, I’d like a list of witnesses to both the incident today and the times he’s followed you.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” Strings prattled off a list of names I paid no attention to. I was still too shocked at the concept of my daughter being stalked. Thank Cadance this was all that happened. I hated that this prick had touched my daughter, but it could have been so much worse.

Lysandra finished writing and set her pen down. “Thank you, Strings. I’ll get on this right away. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a quick word with your father.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“The car is parked out in front. ‘Chestra’s sleeping inside.”

“Auntie ‘Chestra is here!” Strings’ eyes lit up like a fireworks show. She opened the door and galloped outside.

I smiled. “I’m glad she’s doing okay. Now what did y—” I returned my focus on Lysandra. What a sight to be focused on. She was laying across the desk. Her dress didn’t quite cover her legs. Her blue eyes were transfixed on me, and I could feel my heart thumping at a quicker pace than usual.

“I noticed you staring at me earlier. I have to say, I didn’t mind in the slightest.”

“Is that a….” I gulped. “Is that a fact?”

“It is.”

“Tell me, is there a mare waiting for you at home? Or are you a single father?”

It was an easy question but a difficult answer. “I am happily married.”

Lysandra pouted. “That’s a shame.” She sat up and adjusted her dress to show considerably less of her body. “In that case, I’m afraid I—”

“—But my wife is an…-unconventional mare. I’m sure she’d be open to the idea of adding a third party now and again.”

She fluttered her blue eyes at me. “In that case, feel free to stop by and let me know what she says.” She nodded towards a door to the left. “My office is always open Mr….”

Oh, right. I just realized I’d yet to tell her my name.

“Just call me….”

***

My name was Symphony. My companions knew me primarily as Savage. I was travelling to Vanhoover.

I looked around at my companions. A Shadowbolt hiding behind her mask. A slaver who ironically walked in shackles. An NCR nocti on her journey home. A terrified filly with a broken horn. A kleptomaniac with a hero complex. And a set of wavering black and white lines. Hmm. perhaps I wasn’t fully lucid yet. Though I supposed five out of six wasn’t bad.

Shadow turned her head towards me. She hesitated for a moment; then she snickered. “Damn. I kinda liked you being completely terrified of me.”

I grunted. Hello to you too, Shadow.

“Are you alright, Sparkles?”

I looked at the wavering lines, which I assumed were Dionysus. I glanced back at Shadow and nodded my head.

“Can you walk?”

I disdainfully tugged at the chain around my neck.

“You were lollygagging. It was either that or leave you behind. Wings tried explaining that to you earlier.”

I vaguely remembered that. I tugged at the chain again.

Shadow whistled. “Squirt. Come help Sparkles.”

“Okay.” Packrat trotted towards me with a smile on her face. She levitated a key and unlocked the collar from my neck. It clattered to the ground with a dull thump.

I rubbed my neck. That felt so much bet—I stopped when I felt my scar. The collar had nicked me and opened the wound. The opening was small. It was so small I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t felt the drop of blood. It was enough to make me realize how much I truly hated the world I lived in. Life was so much simpler in that other world. I had Lyra. ‘Chestra and I were still close. I could fucking speak! I really wanted more vulpa venom.

I felt something hit the back of my head. I turned around to see Mirage glaring at me. “When I said don’t kill yourself while I’m duty, I didn’t think you’d actually try and kill yourself.”

I returned the glare. I didn’t try to commit suicide, and I didn’t die. What was she so angry about?

“Don’t glare at me like that. I saved your life, dumbass.”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“You were having a seizure last night. Foam and everything.” She pointed her wing at me. “Fortunately for you, Symphony, the NCR trains its soldiers how to react during a seizure.”

“You kept his head level and turned him on his side. I’d hardly call that training, Wings.”

“Well its more than what the rest of you did. Besides, I think keeping him from choking on his own spit counts as saving him.”

Why did she take pride in saving me? Dying wouldn’t have been so bad. I could’ve continued my dream. I could’ve enjoyed spending time with my sister. I could’ve had that threesome. I could’ve spent time with the mare I loved. I’d much rather be there than here.

I felt something touch my leg. I flinched and looked down. Strings was hugging my back leg. She averted her eyes, but I could see her tiny smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Yes, but why? Why did any of them like me? I could barely communicate with them. Even when I could, I was usually rude or dismissive. It was partially my fault we were caught by the White Hooves. My lollygagging had caused us to lose time. What kind of value did I possibly have?

Why did any of these idiots like me?

I looked around for Lyra. Lyra could give me an answer. I still wasn’t fully lucid, right? She should be here. She could explain this to me, or she could lecture me on something. Where was she?

Where was she?

“Symphony?”

That wasn’t her voice. It was hers.

Packrat sat beside me. She put her hoof around my shoulder and pressed her cheek against mine. “You feelin’ okay?”

No. I felt self-aware. I felt awful. I opened my mouth. My throat felt hot. I could feel my breath scratching against the walls of my throat. Like a rusty collar. I pressed my hoof against my neck in an attempt to stabilize it.

“Symphony?”

“….”

The sound I made was an inaudible wet rasp. If I could strain my voice just enough.

“….”

“Sparkles? Is he choking?”

“….”

“Squirt, help him.”

“On it.”

Packrat tried to get behind me, but I shook my head. I could feel blood trickling from the prick in my neck. My throat burned, but I tried one more time to voice my thoughts.

“Ahhhhhhhye.”

I was trying to say “why,” but I couldn’t get the w sound. I wasn’t focused on my failure at pronouncing the letter. I couldn’t even focus on the miracle of speech. My throat hurt far too much. I coughed violently. The insides of my neck begged for relief. I tried scratching my neck, but scratching the outside did nothing for the internal pain.

I felt something prick my neck. Instantly, I felt better. Thank Cadance for Med-X. Mirage was holding a syringe in her mouth, which she unceremoniously ripped out of me. She spat the syringe into the dirt. “Anypony understand what the fuck he just said?”

“Um, it sounded kinda like, ‘Ahhhhughe.’”

“No, Squirt. It was nothing like that.”

“Then what do you think it sounded like, Shadow?”

“I’m not really sure. It sounded like he was just screaming.”

Templar shook his head. “He said, ‘why.’”

I was surprised he understood me. I nodded my head.

“Why?” Mirage looked confused. “Why, what?”

“If I may.” Templar motioned to my saddlebags. “Symphony is in possession of my notebook. He could use that to write to us.”

“Good idea. That’s why we keep you around.”

“Aside from the contract on my head.”

Shadow chuckled. “The caps are just an added bonus.” She whistled at Packrat and titled her head towards my bag.

Packrat didn’t need to be told twice. She stuck her head into my bag and started rummaging around. “No. No. Nooooooohohoho, here we go!” She slipped her head out and held the notebook in her mouth. She placed it on the ground in front of me. “Here ya go, Symph.” She giggled. “Um, is it okay if I call you that?”

Why would you want to?

“Um, Packrat?” Mirage was frowning. “He’s gonna need a pen or a quill.”

“Hmm?” Packrat looked down at the notebook and didn’t see a writing utensil. “Ah, shit. One sec.” She went back into the bag and emerged with a pen. “Okay. Now, here ya go.”

I picked up the pen and wrote down my question.

“Why do you all care about me?”

Packrat’s response to my question was to laugh. It wasn’t even a giggle; it was a full guffaw. Mirage’s smile was full of mirth as well. Something close to laughter came from the wavering lines. I didn’t understand. What was so funny? Packrat laughed so hard she snorted. She turned red and chuckled. “Okay, I think that’s enough of that.” She took a quick breath and looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry I laughed so hard, but it was such an easy question. I care about you, because you’re my friend.”

Mirage nodded. “Yeah, dummy. We can’t just let one of our companions die.”

“You still didn’t do all that much, Wings.”

“Not the time for that, Shadow.”

Packrat smiled at me. A smile full of alacrity. “Besides, you were there for me in Greco Village when I needed somepony. I owe you.”

I owe you. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that sentiment. I’d thought the same thing when Packrat saved me from Lysandra. Our friendship wasn’t built on common interests or affection. It was based upon debt. I followed her, because I felt I owed her. She’s staying with me, because she feels she owes me. It was the way of the Wasteland. As cynical as my perspective was, it wasn’t exactly a bad thing. The desire to help a comrade out of duty provided a reason to live. To keep paying the debt until it was impossible. It had given me a reason to live after I lost Lyra and met Packrat. Before I decided vulpa venom was a better purpose.

Cadance not above, I spent the past few days revolving my life around poison. What the fuck was wrong with me? It had felt good; I couldn’t deny that. The sensation was amazing. The problem was the sensation was fleeting. Another problem was the shame I felt after every hit. Lyra’s specter was testament to that.

….

That’s what was wrong with me. It was Lyra. It was always Lyra. I wasn’t addicted to vulpa venom. I was addicted to Lyra Heartstrings XIII. I convinced myself the best way for me to be happy was to do whatever I wanted. If I were being honest, the only way for me to be happy would be to overcome my addiction. It’s what Lyra would want. It might not lead to happiness right away, but it would help in the long run.

I removed all the vulpa venom from my bag. I made a pile of it on the ground.

I couldn’t do this to myself anymore. Lyra wouldn’t want that. My companions didn’t want that either. Besides, it wasn’t exactly my choice. I had some debts to pay after all.

Shadow chortled and retrieved two objects from her belongings: a bottle of whiskey and a lighter. “Mind if I do the honors, Sparkles?”

I stepped away from the pile. Be my guest.

She dropped the lighter at her hooves. She used her teeth to open the bottle. She took a long gulp of the whiskey and then emptied the bottle onto the venom. “Ahhhh,” she hissed. “That’s some vile shit, but damn if it doesn’t wake me up.” She tossed the bottle and picked up the lighter. She lit the flame and dropped it on the whiskey soaked venom sacs.

If I were being honest, this was quite anticlimactic. I was hoping for a large flame and to watch the venom turn to cinders. The flames were minimal, and nothing seemed to be burning. I grunted to show my disappointment.

Shadow reached towards the flames to grab her lighter. She yowled and drew her hoof away. “Fuck! It’s hotter than it looks.” She turned her head towards Packrat. “Squirt, you mind getting that for me?”

“Okie dokie.” She levitated the lighter out of the blaze and dropped it in Shadow’s bag.

“Thank you.” Now Shadow was facing me. “You good, Sparkles?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure? You’re not gonna pull this shit on us again?”

Wouldn’t dream of it. I shook my head.

“Alright then. Let’s hurry up before we waste any more time.”

Shadow faced front and trotted along. The others followed behind her. I did as well, but I stopped to look at the fire. It still wasn’t a big fire. The venom sacs hadn’t started melting. They barely even looked burned. Neither did Lyra. Her specter stood inside the flames. She looked beautiful as ever. She smiled at me and waved.

“Goodbye, Symphony.”

Goodbye, Lyra.

Author's Note

As always, I want to thank Kkat for writing the original story, other authors for contributing to the universe, and to the readers who care about Symphony and his companions.

Sorry! I know this one's a few days late. My home internet hasn't been working for the past couple days, so I haven't been able to upload it. I hope it was worth the extra wait. I honestly had a blast writing this chapter. I had a lot of reservations early on in the planning stages of Crystal hearts about giving Symphony a drug addiction, but I thought the hallucinations would be an interesting method to help him work through his issues. And I couldn't pass up the opportunity to put him through a bad trip.

I'm not trying to make light of drug addiction. I've seen what it effect the lives of my friends and their families. I offer my sincerest condolences to anyone who has lost anyone to drug abuse, and encouragement to anyone struggling through addiction. It might not be easy, but you can do it. You are stronger than you think you are. But remember that no one struggles alone, and that it's okay to rely on your support system when you need to. Whether that support comes from family, friends, co-workers, or the Lord Almighty, your struggle is never yours alone. They will struggle with you and love you in your darkest moments.
God bless. See you in the next one.

3.4: Ugoku, Ugoku

3.4 Ugoku, Ugoku

“Ugoku, Ugoku.”

Vanhoover reminded me of home. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

We still had a ways to go before we reached the city gates, but it could be seen clearly through Packrat’s binoculars. The city was encircled by a stone wall. The wall was far too large to scale. I doubted Mirage would be able to lift any of us above it by herself. Packrat wouldn’t be able to levitate us over the wall either. That left the checkpoints.

To the left were the Steel Rangers. Their checkpoint was marked by a large steel gate. The gate showed signs of rust, but it looked pristine by the Wasteland’s standards. Try as I might, I couldn’t find any traces of graffiti. I wasn’t sure if the Steel Rangers conducted regular maintenance on the gate or if other ponies just knew better. If I had to venture a guess, I’d pick the latter.

Ponies clad in steel armor patrolled the parts of the wall near the gate. Each of them had a large weapon attached to their side. I wondered how often they needed them. I assumed they would work as a deterrence from most visitors. If their guns didn’t scare outsiders, the other gun probably would. There was an especially obtuse weapon attached to the top of the gate. On a spectrum of Owlowicious to Opus, this gun had a closer resemblance to Owlowicious. Assuming it was operational, I doubted most ponies seeking entry gave the Steel Rangers much trouble. If not, at least it made for an interesting decorative piece.

On the other end of the wall was the NCR. There were soldiers standing on the ground in front of the wall, as well as soldiers stationed at the top. According to Mirage, the NCR had snipers keeping watch as well. If anypony started shooting, so would they. It wasn’t as impressive as a massive gun, but I assumed it was just as effective. Unlike the Rangers, the NCR didn’t have a well-maintained gate. They didn’t even have a gate. According to Mirage, there initially wasn’t an entrance to the NCR’s portion of the town. So, they made one by blowing a hole in the wall and throwing a tarp over it. Ponies who made it through the checkpoint were allowed through the tarp and into the city. While it may have served its purpose, it made the NCR seem far less professional than the Steel Rangers. The Steel Rangers had the NCR beat in terms of presentation, which may have lured ignorant travelers to their side of the city.

There seemed to be a sense of order to Vanhoover. It might have been quite civilized, but it seemed so from the outside. It was like the Crystal Wasteland. Beneath its glittering veneer, the Crystal Empire hosted a cult who preached persecution and dreamed of genocide. Who knew what Vanhoover was hiding?

I passed the binoculars to Packrat. She put them in her bag and faced Shadow.

“What’s with that face, Squirt?”

Packrat was pouting. “Nothing….”

Shadow sighed, but I could almost hear her smiling. She patted Packrat’s head. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, alright?”

Packrat nodded. She was still pouting, but the head pat seemed to assuage her a tad.

“As for you, Sparkles.” There was no hint of any warmth in Shadow’s tone. “I’m holding you personally responsible for Squirt. So, you better make damn sure both of you come back in one piece.” She spat on her hoof and extended it towards her.

I’d rather not. I tapped my hoof twice to show acknowledgement and nodded my head for extra assurance.

Shadow chuckled. “Alright you scamps. See you soo—”

Mirage coughed loudly.

“Hmm?” Shadow turned her attention onto Mirage. “Got something in your throat, Wings?”

“No. I’m just waiting for my goodbye message.”

“What goodbye message?”

Mirage scowled. “What do you mean, ‘what goodbye message?’ You had something to say to Packrat and Symphony. What about me?”

Shadow shrugged. “What about you?”

Mirage cast a glance at Packrat and me. “I can’t tell if she’s joking or not.”

Shadow groaned. “I’ll be honest, Wings, I don’t really have anything to say to you. I met you knowing you’d return to the NCR, so I didn’t bother getting attached. You seem okay; I don’t dislike you. But you’re their friend, not mine.”

Mirage’s scowl intensified. “So? You could still say something.”

“I think I just did.”

“That doesn’t count! Say something like, ‘Don’t die.’ That’d be nice.”

“Fine. Don’t die, Wings. Happy now?”

“No! It doesn’t work if you say it like that.”

Shadow turned towards me. “What do you think, Sparkles?”

I understood Shadow’s indifference. Shadow and Packrat had history together, so of course they would have words to say to each other. I had saved Packrat’s life, so I had some value in Shadow’s eyes. Some of that value may have been lost when I neglected my watch duty but value nonetheless. Mirage and Shadow had little history and owed each other no debt. Why should she give an emotional response when they parted? As far as Shadow was concerned, Mirage was losing nothing of value.

As easy as that line of thinking was, it didn’t sit right with me. I could admit that I travelled with Packrat, because I owed her for helping me with Lysandra. There was more to our relationship than that. It was the same for Mirage and Shadow. I wanted to think of them as my friends. I could admit that I didn’t care for Dionysus, nor did I owe him anything, but I didn’t want to see him dead. I owed Strings nothing, but I still felt some affection. It was the same with Missile. On that subject, my friendship with Carbine felt genuine to me. And as for Lyra….

To answer Shadow’s question, I shrugged.

Shadow shrugged. “Eh, fine.” She raised her hoof. “Take care of yourself, Wings.”

Mirage grunted. “At least you put in actual effort that time.”

The two mares touched hooves and that was that.

Packrat hugged a blubbering Dionysus. He tried to hug me, but one look from me put an end to that. He didn’t even try to hug Mirage; he seemed to be learning. He did hug Strings though. I expected her to shrink away from him, but she returned the hug. After hugging Dionysus, Strings made eye contact with Templar.

He dipped his head. “I suppose this is where we’ll go our separate ways.”

She returned the gesture. “I hope your Light gives you comfort in your final moments.”

Templar appeared genuinely surprised. “You remember that?”

Strings grimaced and nodded. “I’m not sure how or what it means, but yes.” She turned towards the wall. “I feel like I’ve ben here before, but I don’t recognize it at all.” She winced and rubbed her head. “My mind’s felt so hazy.”

“Trust me, you’ll come to appreciate the haze. It’s preferable to clarity.”

“How so?”

Templar gazed at the Steel Ranger’s side of the wall. “Because haze offers a multiple-choice past. Clarity confirms your worst truth.”

Confirms your worst truth? I understood what Templar was saying, but I hated how he phrased it. It sounded like a priest trying too hard to be moving. Vanhoover was really like home.

***

I was beginning to wish I was with Shadow and Dionysus. The trek to the NCR checkpoint was more difficult than I anticipated. The ground started flat but had gradually begun to slope the more we walked. I was starting to feel short of breath. My heart was beating so quickly I thought it would burst from my chest. I took a step, but my hoof slipped. I lost my balance. I was genuinely terrified I’d fall down the slope and have to walk back up. Luckily, I managed to keep from falling.

“Phew. I, um, thought you were a gonner there, Symphony.”

Packrat had bounded off with her usual enthusiasm in the beginning. I’d overtaken her about two minutes ago. Cadance not above, how much farther was it?

“Shit, have you two always been this weak?”

I glared at Mirage. She was glaring down at me from her spot in the sky. She hadn’t walked a step, yet she had the nerve to criticize me. I kept my eye contract as I spat. Mirage snickered. “Nopony likes a sore loser, Symphony.”

Nopony liked a smug bitch either.

I felt something nudge me. Probably Strings. I turned around to see the filly smiling at me. “We’re almost there. We can make it.” Great. Now the timid filly was giving me encouragement. Not that it wasn’t appreciated. It was simply proof of how pathetic I appeared to the rest of the world.

After losing enough sweat to submerge Boulder Springs, I made it to the top of the slope. I collapsed on my stomach. Even if it was on the hot ground, lying down felt so good. Mirage landed beside me. “You’re making an excellent impression on the snipers, you know that?”

Like I cared. I waited until Strings and Packrat reached the top to stand up. Mirage produced a canteen, and we took turns drinking. Of course, I was the last one offered. There wasn’t much left in the canteen, but I made sure to savor every drop of water.

The NCR’s tarp wasn’t far. It took a couple minutes for us to reach it and the ponies guarding it. I had four rifles pointed at me. The NCR certainly knew how to leave an impression. One of them, a pale-yellow unicorn standing on the wall, spoke up. “We apologize for the weapons, but we cannot lower them. Please, state your business.”

Mirage stepped forward. All the weapons trained on her. She grimaced and glowered at the pale-yellow unicorn. “I know I can be an ass sometimes, but do you really want to shoot me, Marigold?”

Marigold flinched. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But protocol says—”

“—Fuck protocol.”

Marigold shook her head. “No. If we ignore protocol then we’re no better than barbarians. The NCR is a symbol of order and hope in the Wasteland an—”

“—Congratulations, you pass.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am?”

“I was testing you. You pass.”

Marigold smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.” She motioned to a couple earth ponies standing beside the tarp. “Pug and Violet will escort you to the holding cell.”

“Holding cell?” Packrat didn’t sound happy; I didn’t blame her. “Are we in trouble?”

Mirage shook her head. “No, it’s just procedure. The NCR wants to keep the city safe. To do that, we hold visitors for a short amount of time and search them for any contraband.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Uh, bad stuff, I guess. Dash, Stampede, Party Time Mint-als. Balefire eggs. Slaves. If we find any of that we confiscate it.”

Slaves? I wondered how they confiscated those. Did they give the slaves freedom, or did they take them for the NCR? I wasn’t curious enough to ask, but it was interesting.

“Um, what about…-ya know?”

Mirage gave Packrat a baffled expression. “No, I don’t.”

“You know. Sexy stuff.”

“Do you have any?”

Packrat shook her head. “No. Mom doesn’t allow me to collect any. I’m just curious.”

“Honestly, it depends on the pony. Some will confiscate it, some will let you keep it. Some confiscate it, so they can keep it for themselves.”

The two earth ponies reached us. Each of them saluted Mirage. “Ma’am.”

She flicked her hoof. “At ease.”

The two relaxed and took their posts. A brown stallion stood beside Mirage, while a mauve mare stood beside me. She looked down at Strings and smiled. “Hi, sweetie.”

Strings stared blankly at the mare. She wasn’t hiding, but I wasn’t sure if a blank stare was an improvement.

The mare, who I assumed was Violet, aimed the smile at me. “Not much of a talker is she?”

I shook my head.

“Does that run in the family?”

Mirage answered for me. “She’s not family; she’s cargo.”

“Cargo?” Violet flashed an aggressive look at Packrat and I. “Slavers?”

Mirage snorted. “Do you think I’d be buddy-buddy with slavers, Corporal?”

“N…-no, Lieutenant. I only thought—”

“—You thought what?”

Violet lowered her head. “Nothing, Lieutenant.”

“That’s what I thought.” Mirage smirked. “They’re mercenaries. They helped me with my mission, so I’m returning the favor. They have a contract with Fairchild.”

Violet glanced at Strings. “One of his girls?”

“Something like that.” Mirage cocked her head towards Packrat and me. “These two are going to need visas.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Right away, Ma’am.” Violet whistled and the other soldiers started moving the tarp. “Lead the way, Pug.”

Pug started walking and led us past the tarp and into the city.

The first thing I noticed were how large the buildings were. They looked impressive through the binoculars but seeing them up close was a completely different experience. I could swear these buildings touched the sky itself.

Violet must’ve noticed my awe. “Vanhoover was a busy city during the war. Their Ministry of Wartime Technology Hub was one of the leaders in R&D—yes?”

Packrat raised a hoof. “What’s R&D?”

“Research and Development.”

“Oh…-that makes sense.”

“The large amount of work brought ponies here from all over Equestria. With the influx of workers, other ponies came here to provide services. Food, clothing, sex, all kinds of stuff. ‘If you want it, you can find it in Vanhoover,’ is apparently what they would say. And with all these ponies, they realized the city wasn’t large enough to fit them all. They eventually realized if they couldn’t build out, they’d build up. Thus, the city you see all around you.”

I noticed a gleam in Packrat’s eye. “What kind of stuff did they R&D here?” Oh, no. She wanted to start stealing, didn’t she?

“Officially, a lot of general stuff. They worked on different types of armor and weapons. But unofficially….” Violet paused and glanced at Mirage.

Mirage shrugged. “What’re you looking at me for? It isn’t NCR business, so talk away.”

Violet smiled and focused on Packrat. “Unofficially, Twilight Sparkle and Applejack were collaborating on special projects. A type of armor that would make the wearer invisible. Artificial wings for non-pegasi. Artificial limbs that could give non-unicorns levitation magic—that one supposedly never got off the ground.” She chuckled. “But the biggest rumor is that they developed a gun that fires star metal.”

Star metal? This was the first time I’d ever that term. What was it? I nudged Mirage and raised an eyebrow.

“What? You’ve never heard of star metal?” I shook my head. Mirage groaned. “Violet, Symphony wants to know what star metal is.”

“Well, according to legend, a meteor struck near the old castle in the Everfree Forest. Princess Luna found the meteor and used it to forge a set of armor. The same armor she wore as Nightmare Moon.” Packrat shuddered at the name. Violet chuckled and continued. “Star metal is known as a mysterious, evil, metal. Especially to the zebras. It’s why they fought so hard after Luna became the ruler of Equestria. Supposedly, Twilight Sparkle got her hooves on some and sent it to Applejack to make a weapon. But that’s just a rumor.”

I glanced down at my saddlebags. I wasn’t so sure. I’d read Daring Do’s story about extracting a meteor from a temple. A story Shadow confirmed as truth. The meteor had been described as having an unnatural sheen, just as Glimmer did. If Glimmer was this star metal gun, that meant two things. One, I was carrying a weapon made of evil metal, which explained how powerful the bullets were. Two, this could be my chance to procure more bullets.

First, I had to get through the NCR checkpoint.

Pug suddenly stopped walking once we reached an intersection. Our group drew to a halt. Pug and Violet stood at attention and saluted. Ponies dressed in decadent regalia marched down the street. Each carried a rifle in their hooves and had a knife at their waist. Their vests were pressed; their boots were spit-shined. It reminded me of watching CDF processions with ‘Chestra. I really did feel back home.

While we were stationary, I began to take in our surroundings. The large buildings were far cleaner than other buildings I’d seen. There was barely any graffiti or grime. I could see ponies through the windows. I saw foals playing with their parents. I saw a unicorn playing an instrument. Another stallion was either dancing or having a bizarre seizure. That was barely scratching the surface. The ponies here didn’t appear trapped or afraid. They all looked happy.

“See, Symphony?” Mirage nudged me and motioned to the city with her wings. “The NCR really is a force for good in the Wasteland. We take care of our own.”

She didn’t say it, but I knew what she was implying. My invitation still stands. After seeing all this, I’d be a fool to not at least consider it.

The procession passed by, and we continued our walk through the city. We passed the area with the larger buildings. Now, the buildings were more what I was used to in terms of size and substance. A commissary, an infirmary, a barracks for the soldiers. The building for the barracks was minute compared to where the civilians lived. I didn’t know how large each individual dwelling was, but it at least gave the impression of putting civilians first. I quite liked that.

We finally stopped in front of an unassuming building labeled, “Immigration.” Pug opened the door, and we followed him inside. The main room wasn’t as large as I thought it would be. There were a few chairs, a table, and a fridge. Other than that, the only things of note were the doors. There were seven doors in the main room. I assumed each door led to a holding cell.

I heard a cough. My attention turned to a dimly lit corner of the room. A lithe blue unicorn slinked out of the darkness. He was wearing the same uniform as the others, but his hat specifically had the word, “Immigration.” “Finally. I haven’t had something to do in ages.”

“Don’t get too excited, Medley,” Mirage barked. “I still haven’t said goodbye to them yet. After that, they’re in your hooves.”

Medley’s eyes glittered. “Lieutenant. I didn’t know you were back. Has the Commander heard your report yet?”

“I’m on my way.”

He nodded. “Fine. Make your goodbyes quick then.”

Mirage snorted at him but grinned at us. “Is this going to be like Shadow, or am I getting a proper goodbye from you guys?”

Packrat frowned. “You really have to go?”

Mirage nodded. “Yeah. I’m needed at HQ, not Immigration. I can’t help you after here.” That was certainly encouraging. Mirage smirked. “Don’t get me wrong, Symphony. I know these ponies well enough to court martial them if they try anything against you.”

Violet quickly shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

“Calm down, I was only joking.” Although the sheen in Mirage’s eyes suggested otherwise. “I’ll try to come back to you guys after my report, but I can’t make any promises.”

“Then I think this calls for a hug.” Packrat bounded out the room and into Mirage. She wrapped her hooves around Mirage’s neck. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Yes, because giving my report is going to be sodangerous.” Mirage returned the hug. “You’re the one that needs to stay safe, Packrat. And make sure you keep an eye on Symphony. Who know what stupid thing he’ll do next.”

Packrat laughed. “I’ll do my best.” She stepped away and smiled at me.

I supposed it was my turn. I approached Mirage. She grinned and gestured to the city around her. “It’s not too late to change your mind about staying here.”

She was right. It truly seemed like a nice city. However, I couldn’t leave Packrat to handle the casino by herself. Especially when I might learn more about Glimmer. After all that, I was free to decide whatever I wanted.

I shrugged.

“Yeah, of course you would.” She hissed and shook her head. “If the grandeur of Vanhoover can’t convince you to stay, then I don’t know what will. Although I suppose I could find you a mare if I looked hard enough.”

I shrugged a second time.

Mirage frowned. “Okay, I’m running out of things to say. Good luck. Don’t die. Hope to see you again.”

That sounded good to me. We exchanged a quick embrace and that was that. Packrat and I were herded back into the Immigration office, while Mirage took off on her own. Medley pointed to the doors. “Welcome to Immigration. I’m Captain Medley, head of this office.” He tilted his head towards the closed doors. “Behind each of those doors is a holding cell. Each of you will pick a room. While you’re in there, you will be searched for contraband and interrogated.”

Interrogated? I didn’t like the sound of that.

Medley groaned and shook his head. “Sorry. That was a poor choice of words. I mean, we’ll just ask you a few questions. What’s your business in the city? How long do you think you’ll be staying? Just gathering basic information.”

I supposed that wasn’t too bad. I glanced down at Strings. She was glancing around the room. She seemed more curious than apprehensive. She looked at one of the doors and the apprehension was clear on her face. Not that I blamed her. I didn’t much care for being stuck in a small room with a pony I didn’t know either. I gently patted her head. It wasn’t much, but I hoped it could give her some kind of encouragement. She raised her head and smiled at me. I smiled back and prayed to whatever god that wasn’t listening for things to go smoothly.

Medley’s horn glowed, and three doors opened. A quick glance told me each was exactly the same. Each room had a bench, a chair, and a bucket. And I thought this room was lacking. He gestured to Violet and Pug. “It’s our policy at Immigration to make foreign ponies feel as safe and comfortable as possible. So, you may choose which of us searches you.”

Packrat pointed at Pug. “Eeny meeny, miny, moe….” Once she’d finished the whole rhyme, she was still pointing at Pug. “Okay. I’ll take him.”

I pointed at Medley. Violet seemed to be the friendliest pony available. That’s the pony Strings should be paired with. Medley nodded. “We’ll take the room on the left.” He quickly ushered me into the room and closed the door behind me. I assumed the desk was for him, so I sat in the chair. Hmm. It was more comfortable than a church pew but only just.

However, Medley had yet to take his seat. “Symphony, right?”

I nodded. He must’ve overheard Mirage saying my name.

“Stand up, Symphony. I have to search you first.”

Okay. I stood up and removed by saddle bags and battle saddle. It was going to be a major pain to put it back on. I wasn’t sure why this required me to stand. Medley was smirking. “Sorry if I wasn’t clear. This is a body search, Symphony. A full body search.”

Oh. I was going to hate all of this.

***

As it turned out, I did.

“Congratulations, Symphony. You’re a clean stallion.”

I didn’t feel like one. My hindquarters ached. I gingerly put my patchwork barding back on. I still thought of it as CDF, but there were so many patches from other barding that it was almost recognizable. It was so bizarre to think tha—ow! I tried putting my barding on too quickly and aggravated my aching flank. I managed to finish putting on my barding, but I still felt uncomfortable.

Medley was sitting at the desk. He pointed to the chair. I shook my head. I didn’t want to sit anymore. “Suit yourself, Symphony. I have a few questions for you.” He produced a pen and a piece of paper. “Given your situation, I’ll keep them multiple choice. Are you ready?”

I nodded my head. Hopefully the questions wouldn’t be too nuanced.

“What’s the purpose of your visit to Vanhoover? Are you sight-seeing, hoping to immigrate, or is it for business? Nod your head once for sight-seeing, twice for immigration, and thrice for business.”

I nodded thrice.

He wrote down my answer. “As to the nature of your business. Are you a trader?”

I shook my head.

“A mercenary?”

I nodded.

“Are you here to receive payment or to carry out the job? Nod once for payment and twice for carry out.”

I nodded once.

“Is your contract with the NCR, Steel Rangers, or Fairchild? Nod on—”

I nodded thrice.

He chuckled. “Glad you’re catching on.”

I wasn’t sure why he seemed so impressed. This wasn’t remotely hard to follow. Carbine could do it.

“What is the length of your stay? Is it a long or a short stay?”

I nodded my head twice. The current plan was for a short stay. I supposed if the city really did grow on me I could apply for another visa.

“Do you have any connections to the Steel Rangers?”

I shook my head. The only one I was aware of was Templar. Given how he was not a current member of the Steel Rangers, I decided not to count him.

“One last question, Symphony. What’s the nature of your relationship with Mirage?”

I’m sorry, what? That was a personal question with nothing to do with my business in Vanhoover. It also couldn’t be answered with a nod or shake of my head.

Medley smirked. “Relax, Symphony. I’m only joking. You two seemed close is all.” He paused, as if he were waiting for me to react. I didn’t. He seemed almost disappointed. “I can tell you there is no problem with your visa. I’ll need a few minutes to write one up. Before then, I need to search your saddlebags.”

It wasn’t as if I had the choice to say no. Medley opened my bag and levitated out my effects. I watched my possessions dance through the air. There were far more syringes then I cared to admit. Although some of them had Med-X, so there was a legitimate use for them. My necklace of grenades and Glimmer’s bullets clinked in the air. I hoped he was careful with that. The necklace was followed by pens, sheets of paper, Glimmer, the Daring Do manuscript, the vial of Goddess and….

Faith. I hadn’t seen it in quite some time. I’d forgotten I still had it. It wasn’t anything special on its own. It looked like almost any other snub-nosed 629 magnum revolver. Its only defining trait were the four words engraved on it. “In Cadance we trust.” It was ironic how a weapon like that ended up belonging to Lyra. A small piece of her I carried with me. So small I forgot I had it.

“I’ve never seen a gun like this before.” For a brief moment, I thought he was referring to Faith. That was until I realized he was staring at Glimmer. Medley glanced at me. I shrugged and pointed at Faith. “It’s just a large shiny revolver?”

I nodded.

Medley put the items back in my bag, but he continued to levitate Glimmer. He opened the empty chamber and looked inside. “Hard to find bullets?”

I shook my head and motioned to my battle saddle.

“Ahh. Not your primary weapon. I understand.” He put Glimmer in the bag and picked up something else. The vial of Goddess. “Mind telling me what this is?”

I coughed. I made sure it was the wettest most disgusting cough I could. I then pointed at the vial.

“Cough medicine?”

I nodded.

Medley glanced back at the vial of vivacious crimson liquid. “This is cough medicine?”

I nodded once again.

He didn’t seem to believe me. That showed he had common sense. Still, he put the vial back in the bag without saying anything else about it. The next item he retrieved was Daring Do’s manuscript. His eyes widened when he saw the title. He glanced up at me. “Is this a real Daring Do story?”

It was real in multiple senses of the word.

“Do you mind if I skim through it?”

I shrugged. Be my guest.

“Thank you.” He chuckled. “Alicorn’s Shadow is my favorite.” That name was familiar. If memory served, Packrat had complained about it before. Medley started to flip through the manuscript. I noticed him sneaking a few glances at my bag. He may have been linking the meteorite in the story to Glimmer. After a few minutes, he levitated the manuscript onto the ground but not in the bag.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” It was a rhetorical question. Before I could answer, Medley stood up and left the room.

I pressed my ear against the door. I could hear his hoofsteps, as well as some static. I assumed he was using a radio.

“Yes, Captain, what is it?”

“Director, I believe I found it.”

“It? Could you be more specific, Captain?”

“My apologies, but you don’t seem to understand, Director. I found it.”

“Oh…. Say no more, Captain. I’ll be there shortly.”

It? I glanced at my belongings. There wasn’t much that was special enough to be identified by one vague pronoun. I doubted it referred to the vial of Goddess. It was special; there was no question about that. I could still remember how good it felt to use it…. However, Medley wouldn’t know what he was looking at. Goddess was Doctor Zimri’s creation. Nopony outside of Packrat, Mirage, and Carbine should know of its existence.

The second option would be the manuscript. Since it was a manuscript and not a published novel, I assumed it was rare. Possibly one of a kind. Perhaps the Director was a Daring Do fan. It’s also possible they could use the book to confirm the rumor of the star metal gun and try to find it.

That’s why Glimmer was by far the most likely option. The manuscript was evidence of the star metal gun’s existence. From the way Medley was ogling it, he seemed to believe Glimmer was the gun in question. Knowing what it was capable of, I agreed. I looked down at Glimmer. There was a good chance this would be the last time I looked upon it. I doubted I’d be allowed to leave with a weapon coveted by the NCR. Hopefully they’d give me the option to sell or trade it before resorting to threats. Mirage said she wouldn’t allow them to take advantage of us, but I wasn’t sure how much power she’d have over the Director.

I supposed losing Glimmer wouldn’t be the end of the world if push came to shove. I received it from a stallion I barely knew, so the sentimental value was extremely low. It was useful, but I had only used it once. Losing Savage, Memento, or my grenades would be far more detrimental considering how often I used them. I honestly would barely notice if Glimmer was gone. I didn’t want to give it up, especially not with answers so close. There were far worse things that could happen to me than losing Glimmer.

Finally, the door opened. The pony who walked in wasn’t Medley but a black pegasus. I assumed this was the Director. He wore the same armor as the other soldiers with one exception. He also had a red sash with the words “Northern Canterlot Republic” printed across it. He smiled at me. “Good afternoon. My name is Fickle. I’m aa Foreign Relations Director for the NCR. Do you mind if I speak with you?”

Did I have a choice? I nodded towards the desk.

“Thank you.” He sat across from me at the desk. “I was speaking with Captain Medley outside. He says you’re a friend of Lieutenant Mirage. Is that correct?”

I nodded.

“I’m sure I’ll hear the details when I read her report, but I am curious about something. Did her other companions make it?”

I shook my head.

“Did she accomplish her mission?”

I nodded.

So did he. “At least her story isn’t all bad. I’m sorry to say we’re going to need to keep Mirage to ourselves for a while. We need to debrief her on her time outside Vanhoover. She could also be an instructor to other soldiers before they enter the field. Though, I do have good news. On behalf of the NCR, I would like to extend our gratitude for helping Mirage on her assignment. Normally it would take a couple days to secure a visa, but I was able to expedite the process as a sign of gratitude.” He slipped one of his wings into a pocket in his armor and retrieved a document. He extended it towards me, and I took it. “It says you have business in Vanhoover. As a show of good faith, I’d like to offer you an escort. Two of our corporals who can take you around the city.”

I assumed this would be where he offered me a trade. An escort for Glimmer. It wasn’t a terrible trade. Having an extra pair of guns to watch our backs would be nice. It would be best to accept the deal before he altered it.

I nodded my head. Goddess not above, I was doing a lot of that today.

“Splendid. I’ll have Medley call Deployment for me.” He started to stand, but he hesitated. “Oh, one more thing before I forget.” Here it comes. “Medley told me you had a rare effect in your bag. Do you mind if I take a quick peek?”

Go right ahead. I gestured to my bag.

“Thank you.” He opened my bag and slipped his hooves in. As I expected, he pulled out Glimmer. He mulled over the gun in his hooves before placing it back in the bag. Hmm? I wasn’t expecting that. I assumed he’d look at the gun and ask I give it to him. A show of good faith to match his. Was he really interested in something else?

Yes, he was. Director Fickle’s eyes lit up like Packrat’s when they fell upon the manuscript. “He wasn’t mistaken.” He glanced up at me and smiled bashfully. “Sorry. I’m a big fan. I’ve read every book in the series multiple times. I’d heard rumors that there was a manuscript floating around somewhere. I never thought I’d get my hooves on it. Do you….” He coughed. “Would you mind if I borrowed this while you’re in the city? I’ll happily return it to you before you leave.”

That was surprisingly reasonable. I would much rather keep Glimmer than the manuscript. I bowed my head to show my acquiescence and gratitude.

“Splendid.” Fickle grabbed the manuscript and stood up. “I’ll allow you to put on your battle saddle in peace. I’ll be waiting outside.” He walked out the door and left me alone.

I was grateful for that. The damn thing was so bulky, it was almost impossible to get on without embarrassing myself. My tender rump wasn’t going to make this any easier. As I struggled with the battle saddle, I listened to Director Fickle on the radio.

“Deployment? Yes, this is Director Fickle…. Contact Corporals Ripple and Echo and have them come to Immigration, would you please.... No, there’s no trouble. We have guests who helped Mirage with her mission, and I want to see them escorted to Fairchild’s casino…. Yes, thank you…. You too. Goodbye.

“Now, Captain Medley. I have business elsewhere. Please give my regards to our guests.”

“Not a problem, Director.”

I heard the shuffling of hooves and the sound of a door slamming. By the time the door slammed, I had gotten the battle saddle on. I exited my small room to find Medley sitting in a chair.

Medley glanced at me. “The Director just left. He said he had some business to attend to. Your escorts will be here shortly.”

Shortly roughly translated to half an hour. By that point, Packrat and Strings had come out of their rooms and received their visas, while Violet and Pug had been dismissed and returned to the entrance. Packrat was bouncing on her hooves; Strings sat quietly by my side. Once the half hour was up two ponies appeared at Immigration. One was a black earth pony mare, while the other was an ash-grey unicorn stallion. They wore the standard NCR armor with a bright red 21 on their shoulder plates. The two saluted when they saw Medley. He saluted back.

“At ease, Corporals.” He motioned to us with a hoof. “These are the ponies you’ll be escorting.”

The stallion raised his hoof. “Corporal Echo of the Royal 21st.”

The mare did the same. ‘Corporal Ripple. Also of the Royal 21st.”

Medley smiled at me. “Do you need anything?”

I glanced at Packrat and Strings. Both mares shook their heads, although one was far more enthusiastic than the other.

“Very well then. I wish you safe travels on your journey.” He nodded to the corporals.

“Sir!” They saluted and spoke in unison.

Echo led the way, while Ripple brought up the rear. I walked with them through the NCR base until we reached a large, rusty, iron gate. Ripple motioned to Echo. “After you.”

Echo grimaced. He used his magic to open the gate and led the way through.

Almost instantly, I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia for the NCR base. Outside the gate felt like a completely different city. This was the real Vanhoover. The decay on the buildings was more in line with what I was used to in the Wasteland. This part of the city was absolutely filthy. The dust was so thick I mistook it for snow. There was garbage everywhere. Broken down vehicles and shards of glass from broken streets lamps littered the streets. A river of grease flowed from an alley into the main street. Aside from my small party, not a soul stirred. In a word, it was desolate. Now Vanhoover looked like a place that had seen the apocalypse.

One of our escorts whistled. Ripple pointed to an alleyway. “This is the quickest way to the casino.”

It was also the mouth of the grease river. I sighed inwardly. Of course it was. Ripple led the way, while Echo brought up the rear. Strings walked by my side. She seemed as thrilled as I was. No, she wasn’t dreading the alley. She was dreading the casino. I didn’t blame her. If I were in her hooves, I wouldn’t want to be escorted off to Candace doesn’t know where.

I thought about the contract. Fairchild wanted her alive. No, not her. He wanted Slaughter. There was a chance he wouldn’t accept Strings. I didn’t want him to hurt her. It would have rendered our journey almost entirely pointless, which would be annoying. That being said, it would be in Strings’ best interest. I could only imagine what Fairchild wanted Slaughter for, but Strings…. Our eyes met. She smiled. A smile I returned. For the briefest of moments, I saw Missile smiling back at me. I kept the smile on my face, but I could feel it lose its warmth. I had lost one foal on my watch and had seen the bodies of countless others. If I could save this filly, I was going to. I wouldn’t let Fairchild hurt her. That was a promise.

“Whoa, sweet!” Packrat was practically salivating. I assumed she was staring at somepony’s derriere. I was wrong. It was Packrat’s true vice that caused her to salivate. Coincidentally, it was also the source of the grease river: a dumpster. Before somepony could tell her no, Packrat dived inside.

Our escorts, as well as Strings, exchanged concerned and confused glanced. I sat down and waited for her to finish. I certainly had no intention of following her inside.

Echo kicked at the dumpster. “Hey, we’re on a tight schedule here.”

Packrat poked her head out. Her mane was already greasy and sticky. She didn’t seem bothered by that or by Echo kicking the dumpster. She was smiling. “You guys’ll never guess what I found in here.”

“Garbage?”

Packrat scoffed. “No—well, yes. But it’s so cool! Symphony, do you wanna come see?”

I quickly shook my head.

“Oh, okay. How ‘bout you, Strings?”

“W—why?”

Packrat giggled. “Because it’s fun, ya goober.”

Strings took a step forward, hesitated, and looked at me. I shrugged. That was all she needed. She climbed into the dumpster. She and Packrat disappeared into a sea of garbage and grease.

Echo spat and started pacing. “This is stupid. Why are we stopping for literal garbage?”

Ripple chuckled. “You’re fussier than usual. Seeing somepony tonight?”

He nodded. “I’m hoping we’ll go all the way tonight.”

“Oh, lucky her. Just try not to throw up while—”

“—You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

“You? I’m not going to forget it. I was cleaning chunks of tomato soup out of my parts for weeks.”

What in the fuck was I hearing? No, don’t think about it, Symphony. You don’t want to risk victualing it. I’d rather swim in garbage.

Packrat emerged from the garbage and…. I covered my mouth with my hoof, but it didn’t stifle my laughing in the slightest. Packrat had found a powdered wig, which she was of course wearing. It was stained in various spots and didn’t quite fit. She didn’t seem to care. “Hey, Symphony, do you have room for a stroller?”

A stroller? Those were quite bulky. Perhaps if I—no, don’t enable her, Symphony. You’re not Packrat’s pack mule. Hmm. Was that racist? I supposed it didn’t matter if nopony or mule heard it. I shook my head.

Packrat frowned. “Damn. How about a baby rattle and a toy train?”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Oh, come on. Please?”

I maintained my stare.

She tried batting her eyelashes and pouting. I didn’t budge. So, she reached down and pulled Strings out of the garbage. “Come on, Strings, help me out here.”

Strings saw my unflinching glare and immediately turned away. Shit. I wasn’t trying to glare at her. “Please, Symphony.”

I added a frown to my glare, but I made sure it was directed at Packrat.

She flinched. “What’d I do?”

You know what you did. I lowered my shoulder and titled my head toward the saddlebag. “Huzzah! Thanks, Symphony!” Packrat hopped out of the dumpster. She cantered nonchalantly towards me. A baby blue rattle and a small toy train levitated beside her and found their way into my bag. I pointed to the powdered wig. She shook her head. “No way! Winston’s’ staying on my head.” Winston? I wasn’t expecting her to name her wig, but I couldn’t say I was surprised either.

I felt something nudge me. Strings carried an umbrella in her mouth. The umbrella was white with a pink flower pattern. Like Winston, it was also stained with grease. It was also shredded in places, and the wooden handle was chipped. She set it on the ground. “I liked it….” She didn’t need to any anymore. I picked it up and dropped it in my bag.

“Thank you, Symphony.”

You’re welcome, Strings.

Echo’s nose wrinkled. “Does this mean we’re ready to go?”

“Mh-hmm.” Packrat nodded emphatically. “Lead the way, Corporal.”

Echo started walking ahead. “Ripple, you take the rear.”

“You mean downwind,” she grumbled.

That was a good point. I made sure I was upwind of Packrat and Strings. Strings flashed me an apologetic smile. Packrat, on the other hoof, was distracted with making sure Winston fit properly. We walked through the alley without incident onto a highway. The highway was a much cleaner portion of Vanhoover. There were still abandoned buildings and vehicles, but the streetlights weren’t shattered. They didn’t work either, but it was still an improvement.

Packrat trotted towards the railing. I followed her and gazed out onto the city. The view took my breath away. I couldn’t tell from outside the city how bizarre the architecture was. Vanhoover wasn’t one cohesive city. From where I was currently standing, I could see that the city was built on multiple levels. The lower levels had large buildings as well, which created the foundation for the next level. From what I could tell, I was currently on the city’s fourth level. The casino was one level below me. I turned around. I wanted to see how many levels were ahead of me, but the buildings were so large I couldn’t see their tops. Violet was right. they stopped building out and started building up. Just how high did this city go? And what was at the highest level?

I turned around and gazed at the casino. It was massive but not in the same way as the other buildings. The casino had been built outwards and upwards and formed a pyramid. There was a neon sign across the top of the pyramid with the word “CASINO” flashing in an array of blues and greens. There was a large billboard behind the neon sign. The sign displayed a mare wearing a revealing velvet dress posing in front of a stallion. The stallion had a cigar in his mouth and was clutching a bottle of whiskey. The two of them were showered in golden bits. It felt nostalgic to see bits rather than bottle caps.

Packrat pointed towards the casino. “How do we get down there?”

Ripple whistled and pointed to a—sweet Cadance not above! There were skyscrapers but this tower penetrated the very heavens. I quickly glanced down to the lower levels. I couldn’t see the bottom of the tower, but it seemed to reach the city depths. “Vanhoover Central Station. In the years during the war, that tower was a train station. The only reliable way to get between levels was to take a train.”

“We get to ride a train?!” Packrat was beaming.

Ripple shook her head. “The trains died who knows how long ago. The tracks are still there though. We’ll have to take those down.”

I looked at the station. It wasn’t exactly close by. After we made it, who knew how long it would take to reach the casino’s level, let alone the casino itself. It wasn’t as bad as walking from Boulder Springs to Vanhoover. However, the past few days of walking was starting to take its toll on my hooves.

Echo growled. “If you’re done sightseeing, I’d like to at least make it to the station before dark.”

I walked away from the railing. Packrat followed, but she’d lost some of the spring in her step. Something had to be bothering her. I tapped her on the shoulder.

“Ahh!” She jumped and laughed it off. “You’ve gotten really good at scaring me, Symphony.” She finished laughing. “It’s nothing big. I’m just thinking about Mirage’s map. Ya know, the one she drew back at Boulder Springs with all the circles and stuff?”

What of it?

“I was just thinking it didn’t do the city justice. It’s so much more than circles.” She laughed again. “But it would’ve been really hard to draw all this with just her hooves and some dirt.”

I supposed she was right on both fronts. Hmm. I thought of Mirage’s crude map in 3D rather than 2D. the NCR didn’t control the right half of the city but the upper half. Likewise, the Steel Rangers owned Vanhoover’s depths. Fairchild’s territory wasn’t a sliver of land in-between the two factions; he owned an entire level of the city.

I wondered briefly how many levels Lysandra owned before her exile. I also wondered if I’d encounter her soon. I had a feeling it would happen at some point given her vendetta against Packrat. She survived her exile, being shot in the face, and then being attacked by Lurker. I doubted anything would stop her from meeting us again. I hoped to whatever divine power wasn’t listening that we didn’t find her here. She may been an exile, but Vanhoover was still her territory. She’d have the advantage if we met here.

I shuddered at the thought.

***

By the time we arrived at the train station, the sun was beginning to set behind the cloud cover. It was decided we would set up camp on the tracks. As Ripple put it, “Only idiots travel Vanhoover at night.”

Our escorts took the first watch. They recommended we keep watch in pairs. Currently, I was on watch duty with Packrat. We stood back to back. Packrat levitated two guns. Opus levitated beside her; Faith levitated beside me. I realized she’d get more use out of Faith than I would, so I gave it to her. After she finished squealing with delight after getting more loot, she suggested we stand like this. If I fired Savage or Memento, she could fire off an extra shot. Since she’d be firing blind, I doubted she’d hit anything. But I supposed that while her idea wasn’t likely to help, it wasn’t harmful either. It could be an effective scare tactic at least.

I rubbed my face with my hoof and yawned.

“Still awake, Symphony?”

Barely. I blinked and gazed ahead of me. There wasn’t much to behold. The rusty tracks, the peeling paint on the walls. The darkness in front of me. I stared into the unending black for who knew how long until I saw something different. Blue. It was gone so quickly I wasn’t sure I’d seen it. I believed I saw a shade of light blue. I’d seen that particular shade before in the eyes of a demon.

I squinted and waited to see if my eyes were playing tricks on me or not. A demon’s natural body was black. Given how dark the inside of the station was, a demon would have natural camouflage. If it decided to get aggressive, I would be in trouble. I had to find it before it could get close enough to attack me. I peered through Savage’s scope. That created a brief moment where I couldn’t look in front of me. That one moment could be innocuous or be the final moment of my life. I took the risk.

From Savage’s scope, I saw what occurred in that moment. Another pony appeared before me. It was a mare with a wavy brown mane. A mare with a dull golden coat and silver eyes. With a discoloring on her lip and a right nostril slightly smaller than her left. She wore familiar barding with the emblem of the CDF on her flank. Just for good measure, she had a knife sticking out of her boot. The crystal mare smiled at me. “Hey, Symphony.”

Hello, Orchestra.

She frowned and started tapping her hoof. “Is that any way to greet your sister? Put that gun down.”

I didn’t move a muscle.

She groaned. “Come on, little brother.” She took a step forward.

I fired with no hesitation. I watched as the bullet sailed through the air and struck my sister’s head. It pierced her temple and tore a hole in her head. The same spots where there should hae been stitches. A second bullet from Faith managed to strike her in the throat. The demon choked as blood flowed from the hole in its neck. Packrat spun around. She was about to fire again, but I quickly shook my head. Since the demon didn’t have the decency to transform to its original state, I was forced to watch my sister die. Even though I knew what it really was, I didn’t want to see her hurt anymore. I watched with equal senses of dread and sickness as my sister died in front of me.

“We heard gunfire.”

“Is everypony okay?”

Everypony was doing just fine.

Ripple glanced at the body of my sister. She nodded solemnly. “It was a changeling, wasn’t it?”

Changeling? That must’ve been what demons were called on this side of the border. It was vulpas and breezadores all over again.

Packrat tilted her head. “What’re changelings?”

“Monsters.” Echo turned his head and spat. “Changelings look like a cross between a pony and a bug. Nasty little fuckers.”

Ripple continued the explanation. “We see them all over Northern Equestria, especially Vanhoover. Nopony knows where they came from or where their lair is. What we do know is that they can shapeshift. Changelings take the form of a pony you love to lure you in and then kill you once you’ve let your guard down.”

Echo nodded his head. “Like I said. Monsters.”

Couldn’t say I disagreed.

Ripple gestured to Packrat and I. “Whose is she?”

I raised my hoof.

Ripple offered me a weak smile. “Sorry you had to see that then. Fuck of a thing to see. Get some rest. I’ll take over your watch.”

I nodded my thanks. I walked silently with Echo along the tracks. We reached our makeshift campsite. I laid down on the tracks and closed my eyes. Try as I might, I couldn’t get the image of my sister’s corpse out of my head. Ripple was right. Fuck of a thing to see before bed.

Author's Note

As always, I want to thank Kkat for writing the original story, other authors for contributing to the universe, and to the readers who care about Symphony and his companions.

Unfortunately, I have some bad news. I'm taking the bar at the end of the month, and I will be spending more time studying than writing. Sadly, this means Crystal Hearts will undergo a temporary hiatus. I hope this is only for the next month and will resume in August, but I don't want to make any promises. I hope you guys will understand and will return to Crystal Hearts when it returns. Thank you so much, and I'll see you in the next one!