Fallout Equestria: Out of the Frying Pan

War never changes... huh? Ponyshit. War changed alright, just so ponies could kill each other faster. Hooves and magic, then guns and magic, then explosions... They fucked the world sideways, and now we were all suffering for it.

There was a bang as the griffon slammed the shot glass down, pausing before burping loudly, bringing a series of loud cheers from the patrons who had gathered around her. Silverbeak was her name, killing was her game. It was a lame saying, but it was hers. She was tall for a griffon, tall and heavy, making her look dangerous, even in a casual setting like a bar. She was in her mid 30s, but she would never tell anyone what number exactly. She had a dark brown body and white feathers on her head and wings, her beak had a gray tinge to it, giving her the nickname she owned. Most would assume she was a mercenary, and they would be right. She was a mercenary, but she had long since abandoned the Talons. She didn't like sharing the caps she made if she did most of the work. So now she was a mercenary for hire, taking odd jobs. Most of them were settling bar disputes, since most ponies who needed a mercenary went to the Talons. Well fuck them, they were missing out. She ordered another drink and it was poured quite quickly for her, and she downed it in a gulp.

“...Kinda boring, isn't it?” a voice next to her asked. The griffon turned to her and saw that she had been so involved in her drinks, she didn't notice that someone had moved in to sit next to her. Yeah, someone. Silver wasn't a freaking pony, fuck your wordplay. Though from the looks of her visitor, she'd have to hear it. He was clearly a pony with his size, much smaller than her. He had on a fedora and a duster, almost making her laugh a bit at his “cool” look. He kept the fedora over his face and his head ducked in the jacket. Most would probably pass him off as another pony, but she knew better. He had a bit of a gravel-like undertone to his voice, and Silver could smell it... the scent of a living pony who wasn't alive like they used to be.

“...What's a ghoul doing in a bar like this?” she asks the pony, pouring herself another glass of alcohol. She wasn't against ghouls, well... Not for being “zombies”. They had a weird scent, and with a griffon's lion-like sense of smell, it nearly made her wince. She also didn't know what the ghoul wanted. The last time she let a pony talk to her, it was to show her her... S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Stats... for a fee, of course. Strength-10, Perception-10, Endurance-8, Charisma-2, Intelligence-5, Agility-1, Luck-4. She didn't care what the computer had said. She was skilled in whatever she put her mind to, so what if she didn't like sneaking.

“Good question.” the ghoul says, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Quick Lure.” Now that she was paying attention, she could notice a few things. One: his coat had been light brown at some point before he took a radiation bath. Two: The gravely tone that she used to I.D. The ghoul was quieter than most, his voice was actually almost normal, rather light in tone. “And I hear that you're a mercenary.”

“And?” Silverbeak asks, gulping down the drink she poured.

“And I'd like to hire you.” he says with a smile.

Silverbeak set the glass down and looked at the ghoul. A ghoul with a job, huh? She started wondering what he wanted. Maybe kill a few ponies who spat at him for calling him a zombie? "What's the job?" she asks. She may have advertised she did any job for a fee, but she at least had her limits. She didn't kill innocent ponies, nor did she like teams that much.

“I need a bodyguard.” the ghoul says simply, watching the large griffon.

“A bodyguard, huh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. It was worse. He wanted someone to hold his hoof while he walked around and looked like an amazing traveler. She met ponies like that... and punched them in the face.

“Let me be more specific.” the stallion says, as if sensing her disgust. “I have three specific points I need to get to.” he explains, pulling out a map and laying it on the table. The map had three locations circled. Manehatten, a smaller circle around a blank area on the map, and a third circle near Canterlot. “We well go to each in this order, and with each successful trip, there's a thousand caps in it for you.”

Silverbeak nearly spat the drink she had. 3,000 caps for this? Nu-uh. Something was up. “...What's the catch?” she asks cautiously.

“I like that.” he says, “You know how to tell when something sounds too good. You're cautious, that's a great perk to have nowadays.” He then notes her glare at him, obviously skipping over his speech. “Ahem... These locations are fairly out of the way, and I expect the Manehatten trip will be pretty dangerous. The 1,000 after each trip will compensate mostly for if you need supplies or medical treatment during the trip, and there's an additional 3,000 caps in it if you stay all the way.”

Silverbeak did spit this time, luckily missing any patrons nearby. 6,000 caps? This guy was rich or something. While it sounded like a sweet deal, it also sounded fishy as fuck. “...If you're so rich, why are you hiring a bodyguard and not a mercenary team?” she asks, then leans close rather dangerously, “And what's stopping me from taking it off you now?”

That ghoul was still smiling. It was a smug smile, and she wanted to rip his lips off. “I could hire a group.” he says, “But I think one griffon could do more with 6,000 than a group who have to split it.” He had a point there... “And I don't have it all on me.” he says with a shrug, “I have 3,000 on me. 2,000 belong to you after our first two trips, 1,000 for my own expenses. The remaining 4,000 is at the final location: my home.” He leans closer. “Kill me for 3,000... Or stay for double that amount for a month of traveling... The choice is yours, ma'am.”

Damnit... He was a clever bastard. 6,000 caps was a good deal for at least a month of her time. She takes the bottle and takes a long swig before setting it down. “... I have conditions.” she says.

The ghoul looked up from the map, “So you-” The griffon held up a claw, making him shut up.

“One: You better know how to fight, I'm not gonna cover your ass if you don't try to protect yourself.” she says.

The ghoul tilts his head, “Yes. I can fight. Though you can see I'm barely equipped to handle more than a tussle.” he says. It was true, that duster could barely hold anything bigger than a hoofgun, which she noted the butt of one poking out of a holster at his side. So they had better not decide to go against any armies.

“Two: You pay for ammo and medical during our trip. I keep my money to myself.”

The ghoul opened his mouth, but stopped as he paused. “...Very well.” he says with a nod.

“Three: What I say goes. You may be paying, but I'm the one with the experience.” she says, “I say jump, you say 'How high?'. I say duck in cover, you better duck. If I say we abandon a place cause it's too dangerous, then we run.”

Now that he was looking at her, she saw the stallion's brow furrow over his dark chocolate eyes. He was clearly not liking that the line between bodyguard and employer was wavering. However, Silverbeak wasn't going to back down on this point.

“...Fine.” the ghoul says after a long pause.

Silverbeak nods slowly. “Then I accept.” she says.

The ghoul stallion smiles and holds out a hoof, “Then we have a deal.”