Fallout: Equestria - Sunny Days and Lonely Nights

Chapter 6: Unraveling

“We must create our own reasons to exist.”

WHUMP

Ow… I’ve really gotta stop crawling out of these vents head first. My gasmask survived the beating from me landing on my face, but I dunno how my head will continue to hold up. I already felt the bruises underneath the mask throbbing, practically chastising me for getting back into the vents in the first place.

I couldn’t resist, though. Getting a peek into the principal’s office set off my curiosity earlier, so once Bluebell patched me up I had my gasmask back on and was crawling through that tiny hole once again. Yeah, okay, we really should get out of here in case the Ghost Pony or any of those ghouls heard the gunfire, but I couldn’t leave an unhacked computer behind so readily. I had to at least try to see what was on it. You never know what kind of useful information was in one of these things.

With a groan, I picked myself back up onto my hooves. Everything inside of the room was still in very much the same state as I saw it. Desks, old papers, some filing cabinets that had nothing but some loose paper clips, and then the safe and the computer. The safe was one of those safes with the dials, so it was impossible to pick with a simple screw driver and a paper clip. Not that I’d try, I’m shit at lockpicking anyways. Sometimes the computers next to the safes could remotely open them.

I sat down in front of the computer and pressed one of the keys, prompting the screen to flicker from its blank, dark green tinge to display a string of characters across the screen. Normal bullshit reminding you that it was StableTec who built these computers, those kinds of things. Then the password screen popped up, showing two lists of passwords and random characters on either side of the screen. All of the possible passwords were only seven characters in length, making me giggle a little to myself.

This supposed security system was laughable. A bunch of potential passwords were displayed on the screen, with only one password being the right one of course, and it was the “hacker’s” job to figure out which of the passwords was correct. You randomly pick a password and the computer will actually tell you how many characters was correctly guessed right, and from there it’s a matter of matching up characters in their correct places for the other passwords. There are technically a limited number of tries, but if you match opening and closing brackets together on the same line you can give yourself more attempts.

Stable Dwellers always had it easier, though. If they used their PipBucks to remotely access the terminal, they could trick it into forgetting the number of guess attempts made and start over. Me? Well, I had one try, but with only seven characters that wasn’t a problem.

Most interestingly, though, was that passwords sometimes appeared to be themed around wherever the terminal was located. So, when I chose “teacher” as my first guess, I wasn’t too surprised when I was told that I had successfully logged in. I smiled and patiently waited for the file screen to load.

Data logs, personal messages, and disengage lock were the only uncorrupted directories that I could select from the main menu. A little disappointing, but there’s only so much that you could expect out of technology that was several centuries old by now. Most terminals that I’ve come across are either destroyed beyond repair or utterly fried.

First thing was to check the data logs, but those proved to be incredibly boring collections of spreadsheets documenting students and faculty who attended school each day. The only thing that interested me about them is that each spreadsheet had been forwarded to the Ministry of Image. I couldn’t tell who it was sent to specifically, so my only guess was that there was some server that must have collected each of the spreadsheets instead. Judging by the logs, whoever had operated this terminal consistently forwarded these spreadsheets for almost a full year before abruptly stopping.

Well, with the data logs giving me nothing useful, I opened up the folder containing all of the personal messages. Many of the files were exchanges between various faculty members and were largely uninteresting at best, but what caught my eye was a message from the Ministry of Image and some kind of congratulatory message from StableTec. I opened up the message from StableTec first.

“Greetings from StableTec!

You have been selected among a vast number applicants to reside within Stable 36! While the Stable has not yet reached completion, we recommend that you start planning your move ahead of time. In the event of an apocalyptic attack, we would like all of our residents to be safely situated within their appropriate living space. You will be mailed a list of recommended items to take with you as well as a list of items that will be provided for you while you are living within the Stable. Pets are allowed!

From your friends at StableTec,

Sweetie Bell

Head of StableTec Public Relations”

There was an attachment provided with the message, which was a map of the city with a big arrow labeled “Stable 36” pointing to somewhere within downtown. Huh, okay, so Stable 36 wasn’t the same Stable that Estoc and I had been kept in before being set loose in Baltimare. It seemed to be located somewhere underneath one of the huge high rises.

I opened the message from the Ministry of Image.

“This is a message from the Ministry of Image,

As you may know, continued aggressions with the Zebra Empire has led to several breaches of security within the city of Baltimare. While we respect everyone’s desire for privacy, sacrifices must be made during times of war and we cannot allow further infiltrations to become common happenstance. As such, the Ministry of Image and the Ministry of Arcane Sciences would like to officially announce the initiation of the Baltimare Preservation Project, a project which aims to eliminate the distrust and tensions growing among the Baltimare citizens. It is in our best interests to keep the ponies of this great city safe, and as such we ask that those of you who receive this message to take it upon yourselves to assist us.

So, in accordance with the Baltimare Preservation Project, your institution is required to submit weekly reviews on the attendance of all staff and guests that visit your grounds. Please submit all reviews to one of the four secretaries provided in this message. Failure to comply or meet weekly quotas will result in immediate disciplinary actions or suspension from your institution.

We thank you for your assistance,

Dr. Gear Turner

Director of the Baltimare Branch

Ministry of Image”

I snorted and backed out of the personal messages folder. Useless. This was all useless. Being that this was the principal’s personal computer I would have thought there’d at least be some written notes on the wall, the massive guns, anything. Instead, after scrolling through countless messages, my largest lead on anything significant was this Baltimare Preservation Project, and even that was limited. No details, no names, no locations. Just some vague instructions. Maybe the Ministry of Image knows more, but I don’t even know where that building’s located.

Defeated, I opened up the “disengage lock” directory, and the safe next to me clicked. Well, at least one thing went according to plan here. I pulled the safe open and checked inside. On the first shelf was a bag of pre-war money and several old photographs of an orange stallion in the middle of a group of ponies who all had similarly colored coats. He had a small filly on his back while a mare smooched his cheek.

The shelf below it contained an envelope, and inside of it were several documents and an audio recording labeled “Last Words.” I stored the audio recording into my bags before sifting through the documents. At the top of each piece of paper was an insignia for some Johns Trotkins Hospital, while the rest went into detail about a complicated treatment plan for some kind of life threatening cancer. Sad, but not really what I’m looking for. You were alive a long time ago, buddy.

Johns Trotkins Hospital? Well, a hospital would be the perfect place to find some restoration potions, or the supplies to make some. Question was where was it? Looking through page after page didn’t yield anything to point me in the right direction, just a bunch of medicine jargon and data. Maybe Bluebell would know more, though.

I picked up the shotgun shells and rifle ammo littered on the bottom shelf of the safe, then closed it up and stuffed the Johns Trotkins papers along with the ammo into my saddlebags. With nothing left in the room for me to scavenge, I hoisted myself back into the vent and crawled my way back to the clinic. It was easier crawling through the vent the third time around. Having crawled through it already twice, the dust left behind was almost nonexistent. Mostly because it’s stuck to my damn coat already.

Once I was back in the clinic, I stretched my hooves out to touch the table propped up underneath the vent. It was pretty nice not having to fall out of the vent face first, and in no time I jumped back down to the floor and tried brushing some of the lint out of my fur.

“Hey Sunny, you back?” Estoc called. His voice sounded muffled. Probably from his gasmask.

“Uh, yeah?” I called back.

“You should come look at this. Give us your input.”

With my mask tightened around my face and my coat looking splotchy from the dust, I walked out of the clinic to find the door across the way wide open. A thick, yellow cloud already had clustered around the entrance, swirling menacingly as if it wanted to swallow me up. On top of that, just beyond the door were the silhouettes of Estoc and Bluebell. They hadn’t ventured far into whatever that room was, but they were fully enclosed by the cloud regardless.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” I shouted at them. I wanted to step closer, but the cloud hanging in front of the door turned my hooves into concrete slabs.

Estoc’s silhouette gazed back at me. “If you keep your mask on you’ll be fine.”

“Wh-what about it touching your skin?”

“Your coat should give you enough protection from the cloud,” Bluebell said.

With a snicker, Estoc asked, “Are you calling her fluffy?”

My cheeks burned while my lips curled into a snarl. “I am not fluffy! I have just as much fur as you, asshole!”

“I’d ask if you looked at yourself the last time you took a bath, but I don’t actually remember when that was.”

“Probably just as long as you!”

“Oh, Sunny, do you really want to share that story with Bluebell standing right here?” Estoc asked. Although I couldn’t see his face through the darkness from the cloudy room, I just knew he was making that stupid, toothy grin again.

I saw Bluebell’s head turn, probably looking away from Estoc when he mentioned that ridiculous and totally uninteresting story. She seemed a little bit more reserved to me. Doesn’t quite possess the kind of sense of humor that Estoc or I have. Relatively speaking, that is. Half the time the jokes Estoc made weren’t even funny.

That wasn’t relevant right now, though. If Estoc and Bluebell were fine standing in the middle of that thick, yellow cloud, then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. I tentatively crept across the room towards the door, inching my way into the cloud hair by hair. Slowly the world around me changed to a sickly yellow blur and I felt my fur stand on end. It was as if I was soaking wet and stepping out into the frozen night air, but there was a noticeable lack of the frigid temperatures to go along with it. Instead, all I felt were clumps of my coat crusting over, threatening to mold me in place like I was a piece of clay.

My lungs didn’t burst into flames, though, so that was good. I admittedly held my breath even with my mask on, refusing to risk a gulp of air until I was standing behind Estoc and heard his mask filter working. The air smelt sickly and stale, the stench able to enter my mask despite it doing a surprisingly great job at keeping out whatever it was that threatened to disintegrate my lungs and melt my eyeballs. I finally felt like I was able to breathe easier, so I looked around the room to see what Estoc and Bluebell were fussing over.

We were in a square room with a staircase leading down into the basement of the high school. There was nothing really spectacular about it, save for the enormous gashes dug into the sides of the concrete walls. I squinted at a grouping of four gashes. They extended from the top of the stairs all of the way down to the bottom, and had gouged out enough of the wall so that I could probably wedge the butt of my revolver in there.

“What the fuck…” I whispered, trailing off.

“Great input,” Estoc muttered.

“What? You think I’d be able to tell where the fuck these came from just by looking at them?”

Bluebell stepped up next to me, lifting herself onto her hind legs while she braced herself against the wall with her forehooves. She traced over the gashes, frowning.

“I’ve heard about the Hellhounds from Splendid Valley,” she said, “but I never thought that they had claws this big. These look more like talons or… or something like that. Not a dog’s claws.”

“So, what, you think that we could have Hellhounds here on top of the slavers and raiders?” I asked.

“W-well, I never said that these came from a Hellhound, just that the gashes look like they came from something with really, really big claws.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Estoc interjected, “whoever was here before us clearly wanted to keep it from getting into the school. I saw the metal bar. There’s no way that it wasn’t crafted to specifically lock the door leading down here to keep whatever made these gashes out.”

Oh, Estoc had a point. The door had probably been sealed to keep whatever was down here out, and now we’d opened it up and were staring at a bunch of gashes left by something that could cut us in half. We still had the whole basement of the school left to search, but after letting what Estoc and Bluebell said sink in, I’d rather move on. You know, like we’d planned.

I peered over the railing, spotting the doorway leading towards the rest of the basement and the collection of scratches that covered the jambs. I felt a shiver run up and down my spine.

“I think we should get going,” I muttered.

Estoc was peering over the railing with me. Apparently he’d caught sight of the gashes leading all of the way down to the door, as well.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” he replied.

The three of us exited the stairwell and shut the door with a groan. We stared at the door for several moments, almost expecting to hear angry thumps running up the stairs after us, but even though I strained my ears until they hurt, the entire school was dead quiet. There was nary a peep beyond the sounds of our respirators working. I looked to Estoc, and he carefully nodded his head before picking up the metal bar and sliding it back on in front of the door.

Between the cloud and whatever may or may not be living down there, keeping the door closed seemed like the best decision. Maybe in the future someone will have it in themselves to keep it shut instead of, like me, ripping it open and getting a big whiff of sour-smelling death. As far as all three of us are concerned, there’s absolutely nothing down there that’s worth risking our necks for. Lesson learned, and hopefully we won’t have a repeat of that again in the future.

Now that the basement had been shut off, the sickly, yellow cloud around us quickly dissipated in no time. We pulled off our gasmasks, taking in a fresh gulp of stale, musty air. Well, it beats having this thing suction cupped to my face. Even if it meant that the unfiltered air of the school was hardly better than the filtered air of the death-ridden school basement, I finally was able to regain full use of my vision. No more looking through those tiny damn holes.

“Hey Blue, did you manage to find what you were looking for in the clinic,” Estoc asked after he hooked his gasmask back onto his saddlebags.

“N-no,” Bluebell stammered. She still had her mask in her hooves while she sat on her flanks. It looked like it was made for a griffon with how broad the muzzle was. Probably took it off of one of the dead slavers.

“I wasn’t expecting to find Broc flowers in here,” she continued, “but there wasn’t even any traces of hydrogen peroxide anywhere. I found some empty needles, a few empty brown bottles, but otherwise the place is picked clean.”

“Do you think that there might be somewhere else in the school that’d have some?” he questioned.

I grimaced while I secured the straps of my mask to my saddlebags. Well, this was great. After that big firefight with a bunch of slavers and avoiding a horde of zombies, all we got for our trouble was shitty armor and some bittersweet information about the city that was practically useless. Well, actually, almost useless. My eyes lit up and I fished into my bags to pull out the Johns Trotkins papers while Bluebell and Estoc were still going back and forth on a new plan of action.

“...might be some clinics downtown,” Bluebell said, rolling her mask around in her hooves.

Estoc frowned. “You sure we want to go there? I’ve seen my fair share of downtown cities and it’s always a mess of ponies wanting to steal from you and ponies wanting to kill you before stealing from you.”

“We could try skimming around the wall, b-but city centers are where all of the best stuff is.”

“Usually comes at a price…”

“Hey, guys, eyes over here,” I interjected, holding up the Johns Trotkins papers for them to see. “While I was digging around in the principal’s office, I found these. Hospitals would be carrying lots of medical supplies, so they’re bound to have some of that hydrogen peroxide, right?”

Bluebell snatched the paper’s out of my hooves, reading them over herself. She flipped through them faster than I had, but I saw an eager smile stretching across her face.

“I remember one of the raiders who kidnapped me talking about this place,” she said, looking up. “They mentioned how ponies were skulking about it or something a few days ago. They didn’t say why or what happened to them, just that this place seems to be fought over pretty heavily by whoever’s in the city. If there’s ponies fighting over it, then there has to something worthwhile in there.”

“With medical supplies being as scarce as they are, I can imagine,” Estoc mused.

Bluebell nodded her head. “Mhm. Hydrogen peroxide is pretty common, or it’s supposed to be. Even if that place has been looted pretty thoroughly, there’s bound to still be some left for us.”

I frowned, uneasily scratching the back of my neck. “Did the assholes say anything about who in particular was fighting over it?”

“No, just that it was going to be their turn to ‘snatch up looters’ soon.”

“Well, it isn’t beyond raiders to sit and prey on unsuspecting ponies and steal whatever valuable supplies they might have taken out of there,” Estoc said. “That doesn’t sound very promising considering that they must be preying on ponies for a reason. Looting the hospital sounds like it’d be a much quicker way to gather the supplies they need.”

“I wouldn’t give raiders that much credit for having figured that out by now,” I snorted.

Bluebell sighed and stored the Johns Trotkins papers in her bags. “Well, whatever the case may be, both of you have a point. We’re gonna need to be careful investigating this hospital. It could be occupied, or raiders could be lying in wait for somepony to do their dirty work for them.”

~~~

Once we were outside again, it wasn’t too hard to find the hospital. The high school had a spectacular vantage point where we could practically see the entirety of downtown Baltimare, including Johns Hopkins. The H’s plastered on several rooftops gave it away, and also informed us of the actual scale of the hospital. It was huge, the collection of moderate skyscrapers towering over the rest of the buildings in the vicinity only adding to the fact that the hospital spanned across several blocks. My jaw dropped a little bit, imagining the amount of time it might actually take to explore the whole thing.

I looked towards Estoc and Bluebell, checking to see who would be the first one to announce that we should move out. They both returned my uncertain stare, probably just as anxious about the amount of ground that we’ve gotta cover both from here to the hospital, and then inside the hospital itself. A mile out in the Wasteland was practically nothing, but a mile in a city like this felt like an eternity, and there looked to be several miles between us and where we had to go. Too many buildings, too many corners, too many hidey holes. It was claustrophobic.

We had no choice, though. I felt the drowsiness from the Med-X returning, and soon so would the pain in my leg and the headaches. Bluebell didn’t look much better having taken several bullets to her leg and her side, and while she’d patched herself up she had almost as bad of a limp as I did. It was only Estoc who still hadn’t needed a little bit of fixing up, but with how cramped and unpredictable this city was it was only a matter of time. Without finding a restoration potion I couldn’t see us lasting a few more days here.

With neither Estoc or Bluebell willing to take the lead, I huffed to myself and started down the hill. The trip down was so much more of a breeze compared to the trip coming up here now that there were no ghouls in sight. Good thing, too, since we couldn’t help the resulting miniature dust storm that our hooves kicked up. It was even worse than when we first climbed up to the high school, enough to leave a sizable cloud that anyone could see if they simply looked up in the direction of this hill.

So, naturally, we practically galloped the rest of the way down the hill. Well, it was some sort of gallop. For me it was more like a quick hobble, but we all made it to the street below so it didn’t matter.

♫ “The world is the same, you’ll never change it

As sure as the stars shine above

You’re nobody, nobody ‘till somebody loves you

So find yourself somebody” ♫

At the bottom of the hill the three of us stopped, perking our ears as we heard the faint voice of some stallion singing not too far from where we were. Their voice was smooth and clean, sort of like Buck Martin or Sweetie Belle if she was a colt. It was like listening to the sound of flowing water with a bit of relaxing swing in the background.

We all glanced between each other, tossing the idea around about whether we should investigate this or not. It was like a silent debate, filled with head nods, head bobs, and some furious shaking from Bluebell in particular. In all honesty, though, it couldn’t possibly hurt to take a peek where the source of the music was coming from because, I mean, this was some seriously good music. So, after Estoc and I pointed several times in the direction of noise, Bluebell finally hung her head in defeat and nodded.

The singing was coming from several blocks over, and when the three of us piled on top of the corner turning down it, we caught sight of a lone, dark grey griffon swaying in a creaky rocking chair. He sat out in front of some kind of shop, it was impossible to tell while we were on the same side of the street as him, but upon first glance he didn’t appear to be a slaver. Instead of wearing their leather armor or carrying a decently maintained gun on him, he wore a big, dirty apron and had a butcher’s knife at his hip.

♫ “Gotta get yourself somebody

Because you’re nobody ‘till somebody loves you

You’re nobody ‘till somebody cares

You may be a king, you might possess the big fat world and its gold

But gold won’t bring you happiness when you’re growin’ old” ♫

Bluebell pulled back behind the corner. “Maybe he’s friendly?”

“Doubt it,” I grumbled, sitting on my flanks and folding my hooves. “He’s probably insane if he’s sitting out in the street like that singing his heart out.”

“Doesn’t look like this is out of the ordinary for him,” Estoc whispered, still peering around the corner. “I wouldn’t necessarily call him a local, but maybe he’s been here for a while?”

I shook my head. “Staying in this city for any extended period of time would be enough to make anyone go fucking insane. Besides, that’s a griffon over there. He might not be wearing the armor, but how do we know he’s not affiliated with the slavers, hm?”

Estoc pulled back behind the corner and frowned at me. “If he’s with the slavers, then why’s he out here rocking in a chair and singing in front of a storefront like he’s some kind of manager?”

“I think we should talk to him,” Bluebell added, moving in to stand next to Estoc. “If he’s been here for a while then maybe he knows about Johns Trotkins?”

My eyes shifted between the two of them, first giving Estoc a hard stare that he returned, and then giving Bluebell an equally hard stare that she shied away from. She didn’t give any ground, though. I bet that if I told them no that they’d go up and talk to him anyways because of majority vote and all that bullshit. Hmph.

“Alright, fine,” I growled, “let’s go talk to him. Don’t say that I didn’t fucking warn you, though.”

As soon as we left our cover, the griffon stopped his singing and looked over at us. None of us had our weapons drawn, prompting him to push himself out of his chair and open his wings in what appeared to be a friendly demeanor. He was larger than any of us, even Estoc, who stood half a head taller than I did. His wings were littered with bullet holes, some of which looked to be infected, and upon closer inspection he looked to be missing a piece of his beak and several of his talons look as if they broke off at one point or another.

“Now whadda we have ‘ere?” the griffon asked as the three of us stopped several yards away from him. “Bunch ah potential customers lookin’ for some grub, eh?”

“Er, what?” Estoc blurted out. “Customers? We just heard you singing an-”

“Oh yeah, for my lil’ cafe over ‘ere.” The griffon pointed to the building he’d been rocking out in front of. It really didn’t look in much better condition than any of the other buildings standing next to it, but at least it had a working neon sign which read “Greasy Spoon.” The windows were all boarded up, though, which was a bit strange to me considering that this was supposed to be a cafe.

“How do you maintain a cafe when you’re in the middle of a city like this?” Bluebell asked, squinting at the sign.

“Scavengin’, for the most part,” the griffon shrugged. “The name’s Firefly Joe and no, before any ah yous think to ask, I do not belong to them slavers. The missus and I were brought here by them to be part ah the same game that yous all are. We jus happen to ‘ave survived this long.”

Bluebell smiled weakly. “Well, in that case, my name’s Bluebell.”

“I’m Estoc,” Estoc said.

“Sunny,” I grunted, looking away from both the griffon and his stupid cafe.

“You don’t ‘ave much of ah sunny attitude, do ya?” Firefly Joe chuckled.

Oh, he just had to fucking say it. I reached for my shotgun, but before I even had a chance to grab the barrel with my teeth Estoc had me by one of my ears. He yanked me back, glaring at me. It appeared that my aggressiveness didn’t go unnoticed by the griffon, either, as he took a step back.

        “Woah woah woah, alright then,” he said, folding his wings back against his sides. “Won’t ‘appen again, ya got me?”

Before I had a chance to speak, Bluebell stepped forward. She moved to stand directly in front of me and Estoc, apparently taking control. Pfft, like either of us needed to be controlled right now. Situation resolved, right?

“No no no, please, it’s okay,” she said hastily. “Look we just came from the high school and we’re all under a little stress. She’s no excuse.”

“Oh, so all that shootin’ was you three?” Firefly Joe speculated. He glanced at me for just a moment, and I sneered back.

“Didn’t happen to run into the Ghost Pony did ya?” he added, diverting his gaze. “The entire time I’ve lived ‘ere and he’s always been there.”

Bluebell shook her head. “No, a couple of slavers. We won but… well, you can probably see that we really need to find something better than a couple of bandages to heal these wounds.”

“You three must be new ‘round these parts then. C’mon inside and rest for a bit. I don’t ‘ave the medicine that you’re looking for, but I could get the missus to whip up some hot food for yous three while I try to help y’all find what you’re lookin’ for.”

The inside of the cafe looked surprisingly well refurbished considering what the outside was like. While a lot of the tables and chairs were either rotting or in such a haphazard state that they appeared dangerous to sit on, they were arranged neatly around equally wasted tables. The whole place was relatively free of dust, and at the counter towards the back of the cafe a cash register and a soda fountain were neatly arranged, with a tall, white female griffon standing behind the cash register. Her eyes lit up as she spotted us walking into the cafe.

“You brought us customers, Joe?” she quipped.

“Not quite,” Firefly Joe replied, “but get started on making them some hot soup anyways.”

She nodded before disappearing into the back room, and Firefly Joe led us to a table that looked to be the least ramshackle out of all of the other tables in the cafe. After we plopped our saddlebags and weapons onto the floor, we all took our seats. I was surprised that none of the chairs collapsed under any of our weight, the griffon’s chair in particular as he seemed to just barely fit in it.

“You know, we don’t have any caps to pay you with,” Estoc said.

Joe waved a talon back at him. “Don’tcha worry about that, we don’t pay with caps ‘round here. Most ponies use a barter system and decide on what is a fair trade. Bullets for food, food for medicine, medicine for weapons, you name it.”

“What if we traded food for food?”

“Normally I’d ask yous what ya got, but how ‘bout this meal be on the house for all ah ya? Yous all seem to be able to handle yourselves pretty good, not to mention that yous didn’t shoot at me on sight unlike a lot of other assholes seem to do over in this part of town.”

Estoc smiled. “We appreciate that. Right, Sunny?”

I grunted and took a vague interest in one of the propaganda posters covering the wall. It was another one that I’d never seen before. A crowd of ponies encircled what looked like somepony who was wearing the same armor that the Ghost Pony had been wearing earlier. It had a piece of paper held in its magic and pointed to the crowd, as if giving some kind of motivating speech. At the top of the poster were the words “Preservation and Deliberation” and “The Rangers Need You” was written on the bottom.

While I was busy rolling my eyes at the poster, Bluebell furrowed her brow at Firefly Joe.

“Does everyone mistake you as a slaver,” she asked, “or does that have to do with there happening to be a lot of raiders around here?”

“Funny that yous should mention raiders,”Joe chuckled. “Their leader, Lucky, set up shop just three or four miles south ah ‘ere near the waterfront. They usually leave us alone, though. It’s the new comers, like yous, that like to take a crack at us. Fortunately they’ve all missed, and here’s to hoping that they’ll keep on missing.”

“But what about the slavers? Don’t they bother you?”

Joe shook his head. “Nope, they’ve come to like trading with us whenever they drop by. Don’tcha worry, though, I don’t go flapping my beak to them whenever they come ‘round, and they never ask. I think finding y’all’s part of the sport to them.”

“You’re stuffed full of insightful comments,” I muttered.

“If they like trading with you, why didn’t they take you back to work for them?” Estoc questioned, blatantly ignoring me.

“Think of my little cafe like some kind of pit stop out in the Wasteland,” Joe explained, holding his talons out. “You’ve spent all day wanderin up and down ‘ills when you finally arrive ‘ere and can take a very needed break. They like leavin’ me alone out ‘ere because I’m always a friendly stop. Hell, even ponies who shoot first and apologize later are welcome in ‘ere so long as they don’t try shootin’ a second time. Me and the missus are useful, even Patches sees that.”

“We’ve heard that name before. Is he the one who’s leading the slavers over here?”

The griffon nodded his head. “She be the one, yeah. Muscled together this whole army and built this place ‘erself, according to the guys who stop by ‘ere. Real charismatic, that one, and as ruthless as a ‘undred angry gods. I’d be careful pissing her off, if I was yous three. I learned that early on and look where I am now, eh?”

Bluebell leaned forward over the table. “If you’re such a friendly stop, then you’ve got to know plenty about this city, right?”

“About as much as anyone who’s been livin ‘ere for a few years,” Joe grinned. “That’s why I invited you in, ain’t it?”

I refocused my attention on Firefly Joe. The griffon had a smug grin stretched across his face, sitting slouched in his chair with his forelegs folded over each other while his wings relaxed against his sides. Maybe he was used to company? Or enjoyed it? He had every right to be if what he’s saying about his cafe being a pitstop was true, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer we stayed with him and his “missus” the more off it felt. He looked at all three of us like he’d just cleaned us out in a game of poker.

My eyes darted back towards the rear of the cafe and I spotted the griffoness staring back out at us through the window separating the counter from the kitchens. I couldn’t tell if she was listening to the conversation or if she was just giving us a creepy stare. Whichever it was, when she finally caught on that I was looking back at her, she smiled and waved at me before getting back to whatever it was that she was doing.

“We need medical supplies,” Bluebell said determinedly. “Specifically we’re looking for hydrogen peroxide and b-broc flowers.” She reached into her saddlebags, pulling out the Johns Trotkins papers and setting them down on the table. “This is our only lead on where to find the stuff we need, but we don’t know much about this place beyond that it’s a hospital. Is it occupied? Are there chemical spills? Has it been picked clean already?”

Firefly Joe pushed himself from the seat back so that he could get a better look at the papers. With one talon he reached out and slid them across the table towards him, scanning over the first page intently. His eyes stopped shifting, probably landing on the insignia at the top of the page.

“So yous want to explore the uptown ‘ospital?” he asked, looking up at Bluebell. “Now that I wouldn’t recommend to the three of yous. Better go huntin’ elsewhere for your supplies unless you want to wind up deader than anything that’s stupid enough to brave Canterlot.”

Bluebell shook her head. “W-we don’t have a choice, Joe. Time matters. We can’t spend the next few days looking for the s-supplies we need. Johns Trotkins is our only lead.”

“Would you believe me if I said that during the time that I’ve lived here I know nothing about the place?”

“Joe, are you g-going to help us or not?”

Firefly Joe heaved a heavy sigh and pushed the Johns Trotkins papers back across the table towards Bluebell. He’d replaced his smug grin with something a little sympathetic, but to me it didn’t appear to be sincere. While his cheeks drooped, he still had a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked the three of us over.

“If it’s really yous intention to explore that place then I’ll at least give you a lil’ advice,” he said, his beak clacking as he spoke. “Now, me and the missus haven’t exactly explored that far south all too often, but we’ve ‘eard more than a plenty of stories. None ah them pretty, yeah? The ‘ospital’s occupied, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s occupied by a pack of abducting and demonic beasts.”

“Demonic?” I repeated, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

“Is so,” Joe continued. “The stories from the raiders and the slavers were never quite straight, I’ll admit. One guy’ll tell me the beasts are tall while the other’ll say they’re short. Tentacles sprouting from their faces or tentacles sprouting from their assholes. Eyes or no eyes. It’s a conjumbled mess, but one thing’s for certain. All them had a grim stare plastered across their faces and fear in their eyes. Couldn’t ever forget that.”

“Then why were the raiders talking about other everyone fighting over the hospital if it’s overrun by these ‘demons?’” Estoc asked.

“If yous can get in and get out without dying, then you’ll ‘ave grabbed yourself a fat bag ah medicine,” Joe interjected before Bluebell could reply. “Yous three are right in thinking that this place’ll be a good source ah medical supplies. Everyone I’ve talked to says it’s like an untouched Stable in there.”

“Then the raiders probably are just waiting for everyone else to walk into the hospital, take what they can carry, and then ambush them later to steal it all.”

Before any of us had a chance to continue any further, the griffonness plopped the first bowl of the stew in front of us. She caught me off guard, causing me to jump a little as I hadn’t even heard her sneaking up behind me. I glared at her, narrowing my eyes, but she just smiled at me before putting the rest of the bowls down in front of everyone else.

The stew was interesting to look at, honestly. I’d eaten plenty of brown things in my lifetime, beans mostly, but this was totally alien to me. It was super watery like a stew and had a really pungent smell like a stew, but there were these long, leathery strips of something floating around inside of it. My first thought was maybe soggy cabbage or even tree bark, but neither of those sat too well with me. I doubt these guys had cabbage or tree bark considering that there’s no trees or farms around here.

I looked over to Bluebell first as she took a whiff, and she immediately recoiled in her chair. I’m guessing that those meaty-looking strips didn’t sit well with her, either. She quickly pushed the bowl away from her before hurriedly looking at Firefly Joe.

“I-is this… p-pony meat?” she asked.

Wait what? Pony meat?

Firefly Joe cocked his eyebrow. “Oh? Whatever do yous mean?”

I slowly slipped a hoof down under the table, reaching for my revolver.

“Th-the soup…” Bluebell continued, glancing down at the stew again for just a moment. “Wait, h-how… how did you say that you got your food again?”

“By scavengin’ ‘round, like I said,” Joe said, that smug grin returning. “Yous three never asked me what I scavenged for.”

“You were pretty quick to change the subject from what I remember,” Estoc growled as he pulled his own pistol out from his holster and pointed it at Firefly Joe.

Compared to how much he recoiled earlier when I reached for my shotgun, now that Joe had Estoc’s pistol against his head he seemed calm. His eyes shifted in Estoc’s direction, still grinning.

“Let’s not be too hasty now, yous three ‘ear?” Firefly Joe chided. “I’ll give it to the pretty mare, she’s got a good pair ah eyes.”

“So it is pony meat?” Estoc asked, grinding the barrel of his pistol against Joe’s head. “Where’d you get it from, hm? Tell us why you were so eager to let us into your store, and I suggest you pick your next few words very wisely.”

Wait a minute, where’s the griffonness?

CLICK

I ripped my revolver out of its holster and spun around to face the noise, and what I saw was the griffonness locking the front door to the shop. It was too late by then, however. Firefly Joe moved so fast that I didn’t even have time to aim before he had his talons wrapped around Estoc’s leg and was flipping the table on top of me and Bluebell. With a crash the bowls filled with steaming hot pony stew clattered to the floor, dousing the two of us in scalding water enough to make us scream in agony. We both toppled to the floor, my revolver flopping out of my mouth to skid to a halt several feet away.

Oh fuck that table was heavy, but luckily my hooves had enough traction on the floor to pull me out from underneath it. I reached for my revolver again just as the griffonness darted back to the table from the front door. She clamped one of her massive, taloned paws down on my leg, stopping me in tracks, before grabbing onto my mane and twisting my body around. Holy shit the pressure. She was gonna break my fucking leg.

Before my bones had a chance to snap in two, Bluebell plowed herself into the side of the griffonness just enough to know her off balance. She let go of my mane, my body rubberbanding to slam myself back into the floor with a very painful thud.

“Sunny, shoot her!” I heard Bluebell shout.

While I heard a pained squeak come from Bluebell behind me, I clamped my hooves around my revolver and twisted around onto my back. Unfortunately, I happened to catch the griffonness at just the right moment when she staggered Bluebell from three nasty scratches she received across her neck, shoulder, and chest. She was ready for me, so as I pulled the trigger she knocked the revolver out of my teeth. The bullet missed wide, embedding itself in the ceiling, but by Luna’s tiny asshole the noise that followed was enough for me to believe that I’d permanently gone deaf.

Thankfully it seemed as if the griffonness was in as much pain as I was. She broke off her attack so that she could cover both of her ears with her talons. As if that’d work. Still, with her stunned I twisted back onto my belly and shakily reached for the revolver again. My hooves were so unsteady that the first time I tried to pick my revolver back up I only managed to knock it even further away from myself.

BANGBANG

I felt the first drops of blood splatter against the back of my head before they even reached the floor behind me. Definitely wasn’t mine, I knew that much. I was still clearly alive, plus there was no searing pain ripping through my whole body forcing me to keel over.

Spinning back around, I caught sight of the griffonness’ body falling over next to me, rivers of blood spraying out of her neck and the side of her head. The life was already gone from her eyes before she even had a chance to hit the floor.

BANGBANG

BANGBANGBANG

I whipped my head back around and found Bluebell unloading what looked to be Estoc’s pistol into the side of Firefly Joe. Shot after shot punctured him in his neck, through his ribs, and in his stomach, spraying huge globs of blood all over the overturned table and floor in thicker and thicker splatters. Finally the gun was dry, but Bluebell still furiously squeezed the trigger over and over again as if she could get one or two more shots out of that thing. I couldn’t see her face, but her whole body visibly shivered the longer she tried to squeeze the trigger.

“Woah woah woah, Blue, stop!” Estoc shouted. He came running from across the room, one of his wings hanging limply against his side while deep talon marks marred his face, his chest and the same side as his limp wing. By the night goddess’ balls, the griffon must have chucked him across the room while I was trying to get a grip on my damn revolver or something.

“You motherf-fucker!” Bluebell shouted at Firefly Joe. The griffon was long dead judging by the sheer amount of blood that was leaking out of him. “D-don’t you ever… try to feed me pony meat! Do you h-hear me!?”

Estoc knocked his pistol out of her hooves before clamping his own hooves on her cheeks. “Blue, stop! Simmer the fuck down, okay? Take some deep breaths, they’re already dead.”

I groaned while I pushed myself back up onto my hooves. Well, for once I seemed to have come out of this fight better than either Bluebell or Estoc. Less scratches, no bullet holes, just some tender skin and sore bones from that big fucking table crashing on me. Though, if it wasn’t Bluebell I probably would have come out of this a whole lot worse.

She’d wrapped herself up in a full hug with Estoc when I turned to look at her. Why is she…? No, fuck it. The better question is why is she so hesitant to hold a gun? It may have been at point blank, but she still never missed a shot as she unloaded into both of those damn birds.

I turned my attention down towards the griffonness and the pool of blood that was growing underneath her. She was shell shocked from the revolver, I saw that, and she’d still managed to land two bullets right through the neck and the head. Now that’s… wait. I spotted something tucked up underneath the griffonness’ wing, and when I moved her wing out of the way I saw that it was nothing other than a StealthBuck. Well, something that closely resembled a StealthBuck. It was more compact and was easily hid underneath her wing, and also seemed to have a faster recovery time on the magical charge. So that’s how she must have snuck up on me and over to the door without anyone noticing.

Cooking ponies up in stews, using advanced StealthBucks, being left alone by both the raiders and the slavers. “Who the fuck were these two?” I whispered to myself.

Footnote: Level Up

New Perk: Team Player - You have learned the basic skills of teamwork and sharing. Good for you! Whenever all members of the party are within moving range of youself, each gains a bonus to all skills.