Fallout Equestria: New Haven

by MrAlterad

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 17114

In Trotston, a rat loses its den and family. But what the wasteland thought a mere rodent, may prove to be nothing less than a dragon...

In a land of destitute and radiation, there's no lack of salvage. Plenty of ruins for plundering. Treasure and trinkets just waiting to be found. I've always had a knack for finding them, usually by the skin of my teeth. But the greatest treasures I've found, weren't buried in some pre-war tomb.

They were on the surface.

For instance, the radiant mare I came to call wife. She was a pony that had no trouble taking my sass, and dishing it back. We found ourselves a cozy little home, in one of the safer parts of Trotston. There, I discovered the joys of being a doting father. There, I used my skills to provide for more than myself.

Yeah… You could say I'm pretty good at collecting treasure.

And the wasteland is pretty good at taking it away…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-15 09:20:01 UTC

1. Welcome to the Commonground

Haven was my home, a place of refuge. I'm sure it was a common name for a town, but inside the bubble, there was only one Haven. In the Commonground of Trotston, it was the one and only. And just like every other town in the wasteland, it was a shit hole. But, it was still home. I guess you just can’t help but take some pride in it, when you’ve made it your own. Sure, some of the structures were being held together by tape and glue, but I felt Haven was a token better than the average settlement.

When I first saw it, Haven seemed no better than any other pre-war residential area. All I found were collapsed roofs, broken brick walls, musty, rotting and skeleton populated buildings.  However, I learned it was more than that. It was, well, Haven. It was a warm, if guarded greeting on a cold morning. A place to return to, to rest and smile. It was a couple of sturdy stores and a repair shop. A maze of broken streets, lights, and shoddy catwalks. A twisted line of three story buildings that were former homes. Fitting epitaphs, for the ponies of old that had made them their own; ponies that worked to bring about the wasteland we all know and love. Ponies that burned the earth in spellfire. Ponies that created the bubble.

I’ve always wondered about those ponies. Call it boredom, but I have a wasteful habit of asking pointless questions to those skeletons. Who were the Ministry Mares? Why was everything destroyed? What did they hope to gain in their war with the zebras? You know, a whole bunch of pointless crap. Sometimes, I’d find little pieces, nuggets of answers, but nothing really concrete. Honestly, there were more important things to do with my time than solving long dead mysteries.

Things like making caps. Yes, even in our isolation, we use caps. Sparkle-cola really is everywhere. That aside, I make caps by scavenging. It’s a profession that's one part skill and one part luck. I've never really cared for luck, so I let my skill speak for itself. I used to look through the ruins surrounding Haven, but those have long since been stripped. I found myself wandering farther and farther from safety to find a cache of ammo, the occasional abandoned gun, or some old world treasure. Because, I needed caps.

Okay ... not really. I'm pretty good at finding things I need to get by, but, that really isn't enough to care for a worried wife, or growing filly. Yep. I'm one of those fools who settled down. Go ahead, laugh. I'll admit, if you told the me five years prior that I'd be a happy, upstanding father and husband, I'd ask if you were high on dash. And in case you didn't know, scavenging isn't safe. Most do it in groups, but I prefer to work alone. It's easier to hide when someone less skilled isn't with you.

It can be very tense. Should I set a trap for a scouting raider? Should I lay low until that ghoul lumbers off? Do I fight, or should I run? There were numerous times when I was on the verge of panic. Thinking of their smiling faces always helped me to stay level. It always drove me to make it back to Haven in one piece. Thinking of them helped me to ensure I also returned with any haul I'd gathered.

But, as you've probably guessed, things went south. After all, the wasteland is a cruel place, but only half as cruel as the ponies that call it home. Haven was ... attacked. Not by raiders, or a pack of wandering ghouls, or by the tan-skins. It was attacked by the Bayonets, a band of mercenaries. We were never given a reason for the attack, but we stood our ground. The Bayonets couldn’t care less, for they were crafty, and didn’t fear our defenses. And that was because, to our cursed luck, we had a snake in our midst.

Our turrets were sabotaged, and the gates were compromised. It was a bloodbath, and I was late to the party. The sound of gunfire on my return from scavenging woke me from the dream I was living. I dropped my haul, running as quick as I could. I was unable to catch my breath when I arrived, as everypony was being evacuated.

…

I don't remember too much beyond that, besides finding my family, dead, inside the safety of our home. Two lives, mowed down without an ounce of consideration. I think, I killed a few of the Bayonets... I'm not sure. My chest was on fire, my heart broken, my anger hot and white. What was left of Haven, burned in my rage.

...I came to the following morning, in the company of refugees. I had been rescued by Minuette, an old friend, on the outskirts of town. I was riddled with bullets, my gun was empty, my supplies spent. She was surprised I survived the night, calling it a miracle. I gave her nothing but silence, cursing my ‘fortune’.

Haven was gone. There is no such thing as a safe place for refuge in the wasteland. The pegasi of High Tower would be the first to agree. The ponies of Opal Field would blindly shake their heads, even as their walls suffered daily assaults by raiders. The third largest settlement of the Commonground had fallen to cap hungry murderers, and nopony batted an eye.

The first words I spoke after I woke were, “The unity of Trotston is dead”, and nopony argued against it. I could see pain in Minuette's eyes, but she kept silent as our caravan of refugees started looking for a new home.

Raiders were on the rise, and with fakes nestled everywhere, paranoia and mistrust was at its peak. The wasteland was winning, and I found myself no longer caring. We were the walking dead. A pack of living ghouls, waiting to be put down, desperately looking for a new home to make our graves. In the two weeks that followed, there were none to be had. There was no ‘New Haven’ waiting to be found, and there never would be...

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Commonground

’Your greatest treasures can’t be stolen!’

I peered over the lip of the staircase, automatic pistol ready as I took in the room, walls cracked like broken glass. Empty. I let out a sigh, and with soft steps, entered the third floor. The roof was half collapsed, welcoming fading daylight and a stale breeze inside. It looked safe, but sturdy isn't really a word you'd use to describe a fallen ceiling. Gingerly, I placed a hoof on one of the boards, prepping myself for the climb. Besides kicking up dust, the wood didn't shift. Not even a creak. How fortunate. Of all the ruined husks I chose to climb, I seemed to have picked the most covert-friendly of the lot. Now outside, atop the building, I crouched low as I spat out my gun, holstering it, before bringing my monocular to bear on the horizon.

Almost a mile to the north stood a tall decrepit factory, seemingly made of chimneys and rusty scaffolding. I didn't need my eyes to pick it out. I could smell it when the wind shifted. Bile, urine, blood and gunpowder. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I could barely make out the movement of its owners: Raiders. They wandered across the catwalks, looking about in a fashion almost like myself, but with a more feral hunger in their eyes. Not that I could see those, but all raiders have that look, so it wasn't too hard to picture.

My gaze went from the bloody lookouts, to the factory itself. A pre-war relic that stuck out over the dead forest like a festering tumor. Still, I couldn't help but imagine what it had been built to mass produce. There was a treasure trove of salvage in that factory. Enough scrap and materials for a pony to settle down on. I could feel it in my gut. But, our caravan of ten wasn't going to take chances with the raiders calling it home. There were at least a dozen of them, and that was just the number of raiders standing outside.

Letting out a tired sigh, I panned west, towards the dead forest hugging the building I stood on. I paused on a gray slab of concrete. A military bunker, half collapsed. Maybe some sort of check point back in the day? Whatever its purpose, now it was just some empty, cold refuge for travelers. It lay next to a dirt path, the one my caravan used to avoid the factory. Panning on, not too far from said ruins was the caravan, a comfortable distance away from my perch.

Continuing my sweep, I paused as I turned south. Well, how about that. There was a small pre-war town in the distance, a couple hour’s trot off. I considered the unexpected find for a moment, before noting the sun getting low in the pink sky, making me turn my attention back to why I was here.

Staying low, I took in the ruins of the dead town below me. Most of its buildings were made of cracked stone and rusted metal, leaving them in better shape than those back in Haven... How stupid. Why were shops and industries always better built than homes? Discarding the pointless question, I looked through broken windows, seeing plenty of convincing evidence towards my hunch. This town was a scavenger's wet dream. The part where you wake up, covered in disappointment, was when you realized it's infested with ghouls. And I'm not talking about the friendly 'won't eat your face' variety. I quickly counted four from my perch, just on the streets alone, leaving me to wonder just how many were inside. There were always numerous more lurking where the sun didn't shine.

For a moment, I considered clearing the place. The image of being torn apart and eaten alive quickly sobered me of that idea. Putting my monocular away, I grabbed my gun, before making my way off the roof. I paused before reaching the stairs, catching sight of a small white box, bearing a logo of a cross with butterflies in it. Pulling it out from the rubble, I winced as a plank slid off, hitting the wall with a loud thunk that made me crouch low. I lay there for several seconds, ears perked, heart pounding. Slinking to the wall, I peeked through one of its many cracks, letting out a small sigh as I counted no missing ghouls.

Looking to the box, I was surprised to find it unlocked, and not empty! Opening my saddlebags, I pocketed the healing potion and roll of magical bandages. It wasn't food, but first aid was never an unwelcomed find. Leaving the empty kit behind, I slinked down the stairs, gun in mouth...

~~~

As it was when I arrived, the forest side of the building I scouted was ghoul free, making my return through the woods less harrowing than expected. Honestly, the only moment my life was in peril, was when I returned. Everypony had their guns ready, aimed my way. Shoulders sagged, tension fading as I gave them a passive wave, weapons lowering as I entered camp. Well, all but one.

“You got a death wish, Silver?” Lemon Tall asked, levitating her rifle towards me, “We could have made cheese out of you! Then we'd have to bury your sorry flank!” Honestly, I was surprised.

“You'd actually bury me?” I asked, making her blink, “That's so kind of you. But, very out of character.”

“Oh buck off!” she retorted, lowering her gun as she got in my face. A gesture that I always found somewhat amusing. My smile didn't win her one. “If we gunned you, we'd draw attention! Next time, speak before just breaking into the clearing!”

“Ahh, looking out for yourself,” I replied, giving her a small nod. “Gotcha, I'll keep that in mind, if there's a next time.”

“Silver, what's the news?” Minuette Mare asked, getting a heated huff from Lemon as she took a step back, getting a calming pat on the shoulder from her shy husband, Cherry.

I paused, taking Minuette in. She was slinging her spark musket over her shoulder as she approached me, her steps heavy, but firm. She was a mare that looked ready to take care of business, if her cowboy hat and radigator-hide vest weren't indication enough. She even had a small revolver holstered at her side. Seeing her concerned look made a small part of me want to see her smile. It was quite the treasure. But, smiling hasn't been all that common since leaving Haven, not that I blame her. Instead of a smile, I got an impatient look. Oops...

“Oh, the news?” I asked, quickly gathering myself, “Well, it's a great place for a buffet. Food and salvage that’s just ripe for the taking! Oh, and ghouls. Lots of ghouls. Ghouls everywhere.” Her ears fell at that. Lemon let out a curse as a young stallion stepped forward.

“Can we clear them out?” Short Grass asked. We didn't talk much, but he knew how to carry himself. He had a musket too, and the same garb as Minuette. A Hearth Keeper, just like her. “If we set up in one of the buildings, we can make a decent defense. Them ghouls will fall before reaching us.”

“I like Short Grass's idea,” Lemon added, making me tilt my head.

“Didn't you just bitch at me about causing a commotion?” I asked, making her round on me, rifle drawn.

“Silver's right,” Minuette interjected, stepping between the two of us. I couldn't resist giving the angered mare a snide smile. Honestly, I wouldn't mind if she actually took a shot at me. It sounded a lot more appealing than being ghoul chow. “That nest of raiders is too close. Even if we hunkered down, they'd be drawn by the noise. A bunch of ghouls, we can handle. But...” she said, glancing back they way we came, eyeing the factory worriedly.

“Then, we're just gonna pass on this place!?” Lemon asked, her eyes wet with frustration. I felt my gut sink, troublesome, unexpected guilt overcoming me for a moment as I glanced to the side. I wasn't the only pony that lost family in this group. And, she lost her best friend to; my wife, Pasture. “We're almost out of food! We need to settle somewhere, or we'll start starving!” she added, getting a troubled look from Minuette, before her eyes widened, a shadow of a grin on her lips. I knew that look. I've seen it enough times to know she had something in mind.

“Zenda, she mentioned a place not too far from here,” she exclaimed, glancing to the south, her objective blocked by dead trees. “Silver, were there any towns that way?” I tilted my head at that.

“You think we're better off moving closer to the border?” I asked, my voice lacking any interest. As if I had any to give.

“There's something south? A town?” Lemon asked, turning towards me as I nodded, “How far?”

“I'd say a few hours trot,” I replied, making her look me in the eyes for a moment, before turning to the town we were passing on.

“If that doesn't pan out,” Minuette began, “we'll come back and try our chances here. Sound good, everypony?” There was no voice against it, which was only natural. Lemon and Minuette were the most vocal members of our group, and between the two, everypony trusted Minuette more. She was the default leader, which I could tell bothered her.

As the others started to make camp more defensible, my eyes followed her. When we fled Haven, there were twenty of us. Now, we were half that number. The 'lucky' half. My eyes widened, before I kicked the dirt. Oh, great. It's eating at her, gnawing away at her determination. It's been almost half a month, and I just now noticed!? Some friend I am!

“Short Grass, you've got first watch, I'll take second,” she said. Hearing that, I tilted my head, considering volunteering. No... Having me on watch was a bad idea. That in mind, my eyes lingered on Minuette as I let out a sigh, before joining in setting up camp...

~~~

I awoke with a start, eyes wide, the smell of blood and fire fresh in my mind. My hooves felt wet, covered in blood. Their blood. But as my breathing started to calm, the feeling faded. I looked, relieved and a little confused, to find my hooves as dirty and dry as the earth I lay on. I gritted my teeth, cursing the wasteland.

“Silver?” a friendly voice asked, making me look up, seeing Minuette. She had her musket in her hooves, weakly illuminated by pink moonlight, sitting on a large stone, glancing my way. After taking several deep breaths, I lay still, considering falling back to sleep. Yeah, do the easy thing, like the coward you are! Frowning, I rose to my hooves, before moving to her side.

Looking to the east, I saw the faintest hints of dawn lighting the sky. In the opposite direction, beneath the horizon, many smaller lights stood suspended in darkness. Trotston. Even after two centuries of neglect, there were magical lamps still around to fight the night. They were in the city proper. They were in the outlying town that we were passing on. They were even lighting the house of horrors that was the raider factory, making it stand out in the dark. After several seconds of simply taking it all in, I looked to my old friend.

“Morning,” I said in a quiet tone, getting a short nod from her.

“...How you holding up?” she inquired. That damn mare, I was gonna ask that!

“Just fine. I'd even say super,” I replied dryly.

“We still have some moonleaf...” Aw, moonleaf. The wasteland flower that'll knock you out, and keep you out. Dream free. Yeah, no thanks.

“I said I was just. Super.”

“Silver...” she pressed impatiently, making me raise an eyebrow at her.

“How are you feeling?” Hah! Now it was her turn to frown and sigh.

“Betrayed.” Excellent. She's diving right into it, Buck me. Alright Silver, salvage the conversation!

“Whoa now,” I replied wide-eyed, “If this is about that one time when I broke your musket—“

“No no. Not you,” she quickly replied, taking off her hat, staring at it sadly. Ahh, the scum that sold Haven out. They were also Hearth Keepers.

“Right, those shit-heads.”

“Silver, I'm sorry.” What is she going on about?

“For?”

“For letting Pasture and Littlebloom die.” Oh look, there's the reason I didn't want to talk to her! I imagine I had an icy look on my face as I stood up, turning my back to her as I made for my 'comfortable' bed. Her horn glowed faintly, making me stop as she tugged me. “Please, stay?” There was a guilty tone in her voice that cracked the ice, making me glance at her. Damnit. She was giving me that look. Big, watery, blue eyes. She knew I couldn't resist, but, I don't think it was intentional. I shrugged off her magic, standing there for a moment.

My heart was racing. I didn't want to talk about it, but, I couldn't leave her like this. I knew I'd be kicking myself later if I did... Assuming there was a later. I stared up at the rosy moon for a moment, my heart shifting between running and fighting. Damn it all. Taking in a slow breath, I turned back to her, giving her a frown.

“You're a real pain, you know that?”

“Said our professional smartass,” she countered, matching my glare for a moment, before we both glanced to the side. She looked surprised when I sat next to her. “I- I'm really sorry.”

“Stop it,” I replied, “If you start on me, then you'll have to apologize to everypony here.”

“No, Silver. This is just between me and you. When you're out of town, I keep an eye out for you. I protect them. I was supposed to keep them safe. And, I let you down.” I really wanted to slap her for saying that.

“Okay, fine. If this is the game we're playing then I'll go along with it,” I said caustically, getting a confused look from her. “Good job, Minuette Mare, my better half and my little princess are dead. Thanks to you. There, feel better?”

“N- No.” Shit, her shoulders were shaking.

“Well, good news,” I quickly assured, “It wasn't your fault.” What's with that annoyed look? “Okay, if you keep crying for me, I'm going to slap you.” That made her blink, “And I'm not talking about a ‘love tap’. I'm talking about a full on, round house hoof-to-face action here,” I added, giving her a very serious look. There's her smile! It was a little sad, but you couldn't miss the nugget of authenticity in it. “You think I'm joking? I'll have you know, I once slapped the frown right off of Lemon's face!” Now she was chuckling. I think, I was smiling as well.

“I'm sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes, making me roll mine.

“For what, laughing? You've always been a chuckler.”

“And laughter is a luxury,” she replied as she put her hat back on. “Silver, will you be fine?” I stared into her eyes for a moment, before looking out into the dark woods. I was as far removed from being fine as the Ember Hills.

“Can't say.” She looked at me for a long moment, her ears low, before looking back out over the woods. We had no more chatter to offer, and I was fine with that. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return to my dreams, so I quietly sat by her side, waiting for dawn. She was wearing a ghost of a grin the whole time. After a half an hour or so, she broke the silence.

“...You're not going back to bed?"

“And miss the sunrise?” I quipped, getting a small smile from her. That smile slowly melted as her brow furrowed. She brought her musket to her side, slowly getting to her hooves as she peered through its scope. Awww shit. I glanced back to my 'bed', quietly standing, seeing my pistol laying next to my saddlebags.

“Ghouls,” she whispered. I gave her a nod, moving across the camp, picking up my gun and bags, before I started to stir the others. I woke them quietly, but quickly, starting with Short Grass. He came to surprisingly fast. Guess being a Hearth Keeper made him a really light sleeper? It only took a gesture to get the threat across to him. He gave me a nod, moving to Minuette's side as I continued to the others. I frowned as I reached Lemon, before rolling my eyes. I shook her shoulder. Her eyes opened, seeing me standing over her, gun in mouth.

“S- Shit! Silver, what the buck!” she exclaimed, scooting away as I winced. Damnit Lemon! There was a pregnant pause in the air, Lemon becoming aware of the tension as everypony waited for a fearful moment. My heart skipped a beat as a deathly, otherworldly wail cried out from down the hill. Well, at least now I didn't need to wake the rest.

“Damnit Lemon!” Minuette shouted, getting a horrified look from the mare as Minuette pumped the barrel of her musket. The spark crystal held in the pump charged the coiled metal inside the opaque barrel with electricity, illuminating her gun with a blue glow. By the third pump, I was at her side, pistol ready. I winced as she fired, a forked line of jagged light shooting forth. It cut through the night, burning its line into my vision, the surrounding woods briefly lit. Through that, I could easily count six ghouls approaching, more than twenty meters down the hill, and beyond them, I saw the glowing balefire-green eyes of others. Her shot hit the closest ghoul in the chest, the electric charge clinging and rippling over its rotten skin. It let out a wail, bursting into fire as it started galloping towards us. Short Grass's shot followed, striking the fiery abomination, making it crumple over in a heap, its slower 'companions' rushing past its burning husk.

I took aim, focusing on the other ghouls as I braced myself, before pulling the trigger with my tongue. My head vibrated as I showered automatic fire in their direction, aiming low. I grinned as two ghouls toppled over, their feeble legs blown off. Alright, three down, three to go! -tat tat click. Shit! I spat out my gun, reloading as quickly as I could, an eye on the coming line. A loud bang went off next to me. I flinched, glaring at its source. Lemon ignored me, smoke coming from her short rifle as she readied the next round. My ear twitched as I heard the sound of another body crashing to the earth.

The two remaining ghouls were several paces away. Far too close! My heart raced as I slid a fresh clip into place. Minuette and Grass fired their second shots, one for each ghoul. Minuette's shot went wide, making her swear as Grass's ghoul caught on fire. By the time I got my pistol back in my mouth, the ghouls were right on top of us. I stepped back in surprise. Grass stood his ground, one ghoul going for him, the other towards Minuette.

Minuette stepped forward, swinging her musket around at the ghoul barreling towards her. The butt of the gun connected with the fiery ghouls head, letting out a surprising crunch. I blinked as the corpse crumpled past me. Minuette let out a heated huff as she spun her gun around, looking to the last ghoul. In the display, I failed to notice that Grass was on the ground, with said ghoul going to town on him. Minuette shouted his name in horror as I fired, my gun drowning out the sound of ripping flesh.

By the time my clip was empty, the ghouls were lifeless, and Short was out of the fight. My stomach churned at the sight. I looked away, closing my eyes as I loaded my last clip. The second wave was coming closer. But now, the rest of the caravan was by our side, armed. No other ghouls made it through the storm of bullets.

~~~

The sky was a little lighter; dawn was probably an hour away. A small distraction from the several smoldering or bloody husks now littering the road. The sickening smell pulled me from the scene, bringing back images of Haven. I staggered for a moment, before shaking my head. My hooves felt wet.

“Short...” Minuette whispered sadly, her voice drawing me, eyes opening as I looked to him. One of his front legs was bent at an unnatural angle, while one of his hind legs had been torn off at the knee. He lay in a pool of blood, and had a bullet hole in his shoulder. A bullet from my gun. That certainly sobered me up, pulling me away from my own personal hell. This was not Haven, damnit! With a deep breath, I rose to my hooves, feeling sick, my body shaking slightly. Minuette was desperately trying to make Grass drink a healing potion, but he wasn't making it easy.

“Short- I—“ Lemon began, a conflicted look on her face as he shook his head.

“Y- You guys don't have time to take care of me,” he spat out, his body shaking. We don't? I blinked, eyes widening as I looked to the factory. As if to confirm my fears, the sound of revelrous gunshots could be heard coming from the nest.

“B- Bloody shit!” Lemon exclaimed, “Everypony, we gotta run!”

“But, Short—“ Minuette pleaded, pausing when I came close to her, taking her revolver from its holster. “S- Silver?” she asked fearfully. I gave her a sad smile as I checked the ammo. Two rounds in the cylinder. More than enough.

“Everypony, get going!” I shouted, pointing towards the road. Lemon’s ears fell, eyeing Short for a moment longer, before moving out. She pulled her husband along as she galloped past the ghouls’ husks, the rest of the caravan following in her hooves. Well, all of the caravan, but Minuette, Short, and of course, me.

“Silver, what are you doing?” she asked hesitantly, making me give her my best smile.

“Buying time.” And, giving Short some company.

“With what, that?” she asked as she pointed to her revolver, before stomping a hoof down, “That's all you have left!” What, does she count my ammo when I'm not looking?

“I also have all of our grenades and mines,” I pointed out, “Which is more my speed anyway. Now, go. You really gonna leave the others in Lemon's hooves?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, getting a troubled look from her.

“You going to catch up with us, right?” she asked, getting a small laugh from me.

“Of course,” I said nonchalantly. “Short ... not so much.” Minuette hesitated at that, glancing to her fellow Hearth Keeper.

“Short, I'm so sorry.”

“I know,” he replied, giving her the best smile he could muster, “K-Keep the hearth warm. G-Go.” She looked between the two of us, tears in her eyes as she kicked the dirt.

“Shit. Bucking shit!” She walked into me, catching me off guard. Her hooves were wrapped around me in a tight hug. She felt warm. Pasture’s warmth came to mind for a moment, making me glance to the side, guilt welling in my gut as Minuette let go. “You better make it back!” she warned, before picking up her musket, and running off after the others. I watched her back for a moment. I looked hard. And though I’m certain it was only a second, it felt far longer.

Goodbye, Minuette.

My chest felt heavy as I turned to the south. It would take a few minutes for the raiders to get here, and I needed every second I could get my hooves on.

“Hey, Silver,” Short spat out, making me pause, giving him a sad look, “W- Wanna trade? A .50 cal. bullet, for my musket?” I glanced to the side.

“You are aware that I can’t hit the broadside of a radigator with long guns, right?”

“I know,” he said, coughing out a weak chuckle, “Still a better shot than I, in this s-shape,” he pointed out. “I don't want that scum using it. So, deal?”

“...The .50 cal., you...?” I asked, my eyes meeting his, making my ears fall at the determined look he gave. “I gotcha. I'll also leave a present to the raider that finds you,” I assured, pulling out a mine as he closed his eyes.

“I appreciate it...”

~~~

I galloped down the road, pulling the spent round from the revolver, placing it in my bags. I considered grabbing my monocular, but there wasn't any need. It was still dark out, which made it fairly easy for me to spot the lights charging down from the factory. Raiders, those with magic, were lighting the way as they galloped down the hill the structure stood on. As I hoped, they lined up with the road passing close, following it.

I didn’t have to go far to spot my goal: The half-collapsed bunker. At first glance, it looked like a hollowed out rock. The front was riddled with bullet impacts, but not bullet holes. Half of the interior was inaccessible, a large tree husk laying over the back end, making the front end only big enough to fit four ponies, but that was more than enough for me. Running past it, I eyed the cracks in the road, pulling out four of my five mines. I scattered them about, leaving them hidden in ditches, trusting their motion triggers to do the rest of the work for me. As I reached the bunker, I pulled out some of the more useful materials you can find in the wasteland: Copper wire and super-duper glue.

Half a minute later, I had a bouquet of grenades hanging out of sight, over the door frame. I strung the wire from the ‘nades, making a taut line across the door’s opening. With some glue, and the spent ammo casings I had, I fashioned the trip wire around the frame of the wall. Simple, but effective. Trip the line, count to three, and, boom. Finally, I took out my last mine, gluing the bottom to the wall right outside the window, which was a few steps from the door. I covered it with a small clump of dead branches, before arming it.

With any luck, my set-up will take care of at least three or four of those vile cannibals. Proud grin on my lips, my eyes shifted from my traps, looking to the collapsed end of the room. Going out with my own trap wasn't unwelcome, but, I wanted to at least give the caravan an actual chance. I frowned as I considered that. I needed to be a decent decoy. I wasn't going to let those scum catch Minuette!

Looking past the rotted anti-zebra propaganda on the walls, I took in the damage, seeing that the roof was once a single slab of rock. At some point, it fractured down the middle, caving and falling inside as a large plate, creating a impromptu wall that separated the back half of the bunker from the door. The new ‘wall’ wasn't complete, leaving a pony-sized gap near the top corners. Quickly peering through the hole, I saw the rest of the 'room'. The walls in this half were almost completely crushed, the fallen tree's husk forming part of a new roof above what remained of the walls. Most of the section was buried in underbrush, but it was a way out. There was a bit of a fall between the hole and floor, but as far as I cared, it was a perfect escape.

Having a means out was good. Being chased on the other hoof... My face scrunched as I turned back to my minefield. Running outside, I quickly picked up one of my traps, shutting off its short trigger before returning to the bunker. As I entered, I heard somepony letting out a bloodcurdling yell. Buck!

Pulling out Short's musket, I crouched behind the bunker window, enjoying the sound of bullets striking stone as I did. Giving the crystal three quick pumps, the opaque barrel came alive with lightning. Peering out the window, I rested the musket on the ledge, seeing a dozen raiders charging down the road, one hundred yards away. Or was it eighty?

The savages were covered in blood. Not their own, undoubtedly. I aimed at the one in front, taking note of their necklace of ears as I fired. The bolt of lightning crackled past its head, getting a cackle from the raider. Damnit, this is why I hate rifles! Pump pump pump, fire. Miss. Damnit! As I fired off my fourth miss, the raiders reached my minefield.

Those ahead of the group ran by without even pausing, failing to hear the mine let off its tell tale beeping, before going off. Three raiders disappeared in the blast. Hah, serves them right! My eyes glowed as they followed the small mushroom cloud. Nothing like a good trap to light up the night. My smug smile melted when the surprised torso of one raider landed next to another mine, setting it off prematurely. Bucking hell!

The others paused, eyeing around warily for a moment. I let off another shot, and surprised even myself, when I got one of the bastards in the head. He toppled over, skull on fire. The others stayed their ground as they continued shooting back, making me back from the window. Peering through the door, I saw that they were reluctant to proceed any further. As I pumped for my next shot, I heard somepony shouting. The gunfire outside suddenly stopped, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Crafty rat!” a voice above me cried. I didn't even look, my nerves already wound up as I rolled to the left. Something heavy and fast struck the ground behind me, grazing my back. Narrowly dodging my own trip-wire, I looked back to where I was in surprise. A metal spike as thick as a bullet and as long as my hoof had been driven into the ground. “Slippery rat!” the voice added, making me glance up, bringing the musket to bear as I fired. The pegasus cackled as she flew back. Buck me. A pegasus raider!? How am I supposed to trap that!? My moment of surprise ended abruptly as I was sent flying back, something thick and metallic piercing through my shoulder. My vision went white for a moment as I tried to focus on the entrance. “Aww, little rodent got shot~” she chided, walking up to the door.

She looked as civilized as any other raider, her coat's natural color lost in crimson decor. She had a large battlesaddle on her back, two large cylinder-barrels rotating like a revolver as she sneered at me. “I'm gonna enjoy pinning you to the wall,” she added, my world finally coming into focus. Her weapon made a distressing sound, which didn’t draw as much alarm from me, as the sound of her tripping the wire did.

Her eyes widened at the noise, panic breaking across her face as the grenades bounced right off her head. Shit! Hopping to my hooves, I dove towards the hole. At the same moment, I felt a gust as she hopped back. Another metal spike caught the back of my leg as I crawled through the gap, the impact pushing me through. I let out a very loud curse as I unceremoniously fell to the ground, letting out a hollow metallic thud in the process.

Wait, hollow? Before I could check it out, the world shook, my head feeling like it was going to pop. My ears rang. I cradled my head for a moment as I tried to look through the pain. I needed to keep moving. Now wasn't the time to writhe in agony! Getting on my hooves, I staggered, the spike still in my hind leg. Well, if I can't get out-

Looking to the ground, I pushed aside some of the dirt and soil that had accumulated over the spot, revealing a half-buried hatch. I stood there for a moment, completely surprised by the find. That moment came to an end when something powerful and probably spike-shaped was driven into the tree above me.

I had no chance against a pegasus. And, she would be able to find the caravan with ease. I needed to take her down. I needed to get her in one last trap. Thinking that, I eyed the latch, quickly brushing it off, letting out a painful grunt as I opened it. Inside was a ladder, leading a small climb down. Taking out my last mine, I placed it next to the hatch, triggering its delay before arming. I then slipped down the hole, pulling the hatch behind me with a loud clang. I couldn't hear it, but I could easily imagine the sound of the mine letting out its click as it fully armed.

Before I could take solace in my triumphant sneer, the mine detonated. I was knocked off the ladder as the hatch bent inward, the ladder shaking from the wall as fire licked into the tunnel. It wasn't a long fall, only a couple feet, but to my pierced leg, it might as well have been a mile. My vision turned white from the landing as I let out a scream.

“S- Shit!” I said, after the world stopped being white and searing. Well, on the plus side, the six-inch rail in my leg was doing a good job distracting me from the hole in my shoulder. I pulled at the piece of metal for a moment, before letting go, the whiteness briefly returning. Oh great, now nausea was starting to distract me from the pain. Absolutely wonderful! Taking a moment- Okay, several moments to gather myself, I looked to the hatch. I couldn't make it out in the dark, but since I didn't see any light through it, I could guess that it was still there. Thinking that, I pulled the musket rifle close. Briefly feeling it, I let out a sigh of relief. It was still in one piece. Giving three pumps, the darkness melted away as the barrel came to life. I aimed up, and waited, eyes focusing on the darkness above me, as it gradually encompassed my vision.

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was hot, and my hooves were wet. I opened my eyes, seeing a dark, stony room. The walls crackled with crimson and azure light. I blinked weakly, looking down to the spark musket. Part of its chamber was coated red.

...I passed out? I lifted a hoof over my head. It felt so heavy, and covered in dry blood. Why did I wake up? Why am I still alive? The hot air offered no answer, making me eye the dented hatch for a moment, before glancing to my leg. The spike was still there. Of course it was. I closed my eyes, waiting for darkness to claim me again. The snicker of a certain raider, and a scream from a friend came to me. It was only in my head, but it made my eyes pop open, making me let out a small curse. Weakly, slowly, I rolled onto my stomach, before digging through my saddlebags. I blinked as I pulled out a spike that’d lodged itself between the junk I was carrying, frowning at the hole it made in my bag.

“Th- That feathered bitch!” Just what the buck was a pegasus doing with a bunch of raiders?

I suddenly felt lightheaded, the room darkening for a moment. I dropped the spike, continuing through my bags, pulling out the healing potion and bandages. Without a second thought, I downed the elixir. Now wasn’t the time for bleeding to death! My eyes widened. I could already feel its rejuvenating effects at work. I forgot how quick these things healed! As the pain, and hole in my shoulder started to patch up, I eyed the spike in my leg. My breathing started to quicken as I clamped my mouth on it.

One, two three-!!

The sound of a metal spike falling to the floor rang out as my vision went white...

~~~

I came to feeling a dull ache in my leg. Damnit. What kind of stallion passes out from pain!? Getting on my hooves, I winced as pressure was applied to my back leg, seeing that there was still a small, bullet-sized hole. Well, at least it wasn’t bleeding. Letting out a sigh, I wrapped the bandages around it, hoping the weak magic in the cloth would mend the rest. After tying it off, I looked over myself, shaking my head. The wound in my shoulder had bled all over my side and back, practically painting me red. Have I ever been this bloody before? Images of Haven flashed through my eyes.

I hit my head against the stony wall. Bucking dumbest question yet! I rubbed my temple for a moment, before looking to the ladder. The metal was a little bent at the top, but it looked secure enough. After a quick appraising glance over the spark musket, I slung it across my back, before climbing. The sweltering heat near the top made me pause, eyeing the hatch. The metal was giving off the faintest hints of an orange glow. I reached out for it, the image of a pony-thick trunk on fire, smoldering on the other side making me pause. Shit. I glared at the exit, before sliding down the ladder and taking in my surroundings.

The walls were made of stone. Broken and shaped by magic and claws. Over the rocky floor was a metal walkway that was bolted between the walls. I couldn’t help but note the black splotch on the rocks beneath the grated metal, under where I had lain. The ‘cave’ continued on from the ladder, reaching outside the light of the musket. Even with my light hooves, it didn’t stop the floor from clanging, making me wince with almost each step. Letting out a sigh, I shifted the musket, before picking up the revolver. One shot.

I glanced back to the hatch. I could wait, give it time to cool before leaving. I shook my head. There’s probably another exit to this place. Minuette and the others didn’t have the luxury of time! I have one shot. If this is a ghoul’s nest, then one wouldn’t do me jack! I blinked, before taking in a deep breath. The air smelt of burned wood, and blood, but nothing else. Considering it for a moment, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I continued down the way, holstering the gun as my steps became heavy with purpose.

…

Was the bunker more of a back route? I followed the hall for over a minute before reaching anything of note. The stone walls gave way for dirty grey metal. Well, that’s a good sign. There’s no way these walls would have fit through the hatch! Several steps into the new environment, I came on a metal door with a small lit lamp. Thankfully, it was hanging ajar, the door nearly as thick as my hoof.

My eyes widened as I opened it. The inside was well lit. Well, more so than what the musket gave. The grates were traded in for solid flooring, making far less noise as I entered. I noticed a dead terminal, mounted to the wall next to the door. It must have been for the door on this side, as there was no handle. I wouldn’t be surprised if it could also lock said door.

Turning to the room, I saw that it housed a collection of metallic shelves, bare-boned in nature, each of them loaded down with all manner of things. The scavenger in me couldn’t help but feel excited at the sight. Still, I looked past the shelves. There was a notable lack of anything edible, a fact that made me aware that I hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday. Well, at least there was glue and tape and wood and chemicals and all other kinds of non-edible things to distract my hunger. The room also had a small work-table, buried under a half collapsed shelf. I shook my head, focusing forward. Now wasn’t the time to be filling my bags.

Reaching the other end of the room, I paused at the closed door before me. I took in a deep breath, before giving the handle a twist. There was a loud click, followed by the wincing groan of metal as it swung open. There was a rush of air, leaving a stale taste in my mouth as I stepped back from the door. I stood silent for a moment, ears perked. The air didn’t smell particularly foul, and there were no sounds to punctuate my fears, making me let out a sigh of relief. I eyed the salvage one last time, before going deeper into the ruins.

I use the word ruins lightly. Besides rust and dust, it looked like nopony had been here since the end of the war. So, I happen upon a ruin ripe for picking, and I don’t have the time to clean it out. Why am I not surprised? Making my way down the hall, I paused as I reached two rooms on opposite sides of the hall. A quick glance to the left revealed a room filled with filing cabinets. The desk at the center had some papers strewn about. I was about the pass it by, but my eye caught a bit of color on the desk.

Taking a closer look-  An issue of Iron Martyr, volume 7: Hope on the Rocks!? What’s a rare find like this doing here!? I carefully picked it up. Dusty, but still in a better shape than anything from my old collection!- I blinked, my ears falling as I sobered from the find. I frowned, raising the comic book, readying to slam it on the table. But I hesitated... With a sigh, I left the room behind as I brought myself back on track.

Returning to the hall, I glanced to the opposite room. Inside was an old terminal, sitting on one of several small desks, which were lined against the left wall, partitioned from each other. I tried flipping the terminal on, getting only an empty click as I hit the power button. Frowning, I looked to the right wall, home to a pair of counters, each with a sink and a set of chemical items. Beakers, flasks, burners, etc. I eyed the sinks, trotting to one and turning the faucet. I let out a small sigh as the head made a weak gurgling sound, before letting out a single drop of dirty water. Guess there weren't any water talismans here. If there were, then our caravan wouldn’t need to worry about finding clean water ever again.

Turning the sink ‘off’, I glanced to the terminals and chemistry doo-dads. Some homebrewed explosives would be a boon. I’m certain I could manage a few with the supplies here. But, once again, that was time I didn’t have. Leaving the room behind, I reached the door at the end of the hall, frowning as the latch refused to move. Was it locked, or was the door rusted beyond use?

Taking a closer look, I noticed a keyhole under the latch. Talk about being overly secure. After a quick look through the desks and cabinets in the other rooms, I found the key, hiding inside a crusty book in the terminal desk. I’ll admit, I was hoping for a bobby pin to take a stab at the lock, but this works too! I adopted a satisfied grin when I used said key, getting a small click from the door. It opened, revealing a dark room, about twenty to thirty feet long. There was a sickly smell in the air, making me pause, bringing the musket to ready as I entered.

This room had a set of strange metallic pods, four total. They were egg-shaped, reminding me of something similar I once saw in a ruined brewery. Considering the kinds of chems I saw in the other room, I didn’t want to venture what dangerous concoctions were left inside. Each had a window on the front, as well as a small terminal attached to each. I took a curious glance into each, seeing little to nothing in the room’s low light. They were bigger than a pony, each having a series of tubes wired into the back. These tubes ran across the floor haphazardly, connecting to a cluster of equally numbered opaque vats. All of them were broken, glass shattered by what I could only guess was gunfire. At the foot of them was a boney corpse, earth pony, wearing a long white coat that was stained in patches of rust brown and light blue. Guess that was the reason the air was foul. Glass was scattered on the floor, sticking through spots of the ground. Wait, the whole floor is grated?

I brought the musket closer to the floor, the light fading into darkness between the gaps. I tilted my head, ears perking up. Was that the sound of running water? I frowned as I stood up, taking another look around the room. Why was the floor different in here? Was it for emptying the vats? I shook my head at the pointless questions, moving past the pods.

Reaching the darker end of the room, laying next to the only other door, was a unicorn skeleton. Clinging to its bones was a set of dark green clothes. I paused, raising an eyebrow. The clothes were clearly a uniform, but it was decorated in small bands of stripes and tassels. Next to the body was a fancy looking hat, the kind you’d see in an pre-war picture of some important military pony telling you to fight for the good of Equestria or something. Oh, he even had a pair of dog-tags around his neck:

Fire

Sure

G 004-2525-39

aH, Unicorn

I eyed the tag for a moment, tilting my head. Sure Fire? Where have I heard that name before? My question died off as I noticed a custom revolver laying under his hoof. The barrel had clouds and the moon etched into the metal, along with the words, ‘To honor and protect!’. It looked to be in good shape, if a little stained in ancient blood. After pocketing the tags, I opened the cylinder, finding six rounds. I smiled as I pulled them out, a smile which melted as I found it actually having six spent cases instead, making me glance to the broken vats on the other end. I eyed the revolver holstered at my side, before pocketing the gun I found.

“Did you give up, after bucking over Equestria?” I asked the corpse, not expecting an answer. For some reason, I felt disappointed, when all I got was silence. Looking to the door he lay before, I noted a lack of a handle. I then checked the terminal mounted to the wall next to it, and just like the others, the terminal was dead. Scratched onto the wall was a small message. ‘PW: Best Friend’.

I raised an eyebrow as I looked to the pile of bones. So, that’s why there was so much untouched salvage down here. The hatch was hidden, and the doors to this room were locked. Well, now what? Bringing the terminal back to life wasn’t too big of a problem, but what about the password? Should I try and get through this, or should I wait out the fire heating the hatch?

Going back the way I came, I paused when I reached the rooms, glancing into the chem lab. Maybe, the terminal has the password? If they’re dead because of power, then the spark crystal in Grass’s musket would do the trick, but is it worth the time…?

Pry open the terminals and power them, to maybe open the door, or make some other means to get out through the hatch? Which would be quicker? Which was the right answer?

~~~

I eyed the hatch for a moment. It certainly felt cooler. I checked my bags, a little heavier since I arrived, making sure that everything was secure, before climbing the ladder. Reaching the hatch, I gave it a light touch. It was hot, but not burning. With a determined look, I gave it a hard push. It didn’t even budge. Frowning, I brought one of the wall-lamps from the lab closer, inspecting the hatch. The light revealed warped metal, its grooves and shape no longer flat and conformed, but slightly bent inward. I stared dumbly at the hatch, mouth falling open. It gave a flat bang, my hoof aching as I let out a curse…

A few minutes later, I left my saddlebags behind, a safe distance back from the hatch, as I climbed the ladder. A bottle of glue and a homebrewed explosive were all I needed to open this hatch, and in no time, the impromptu pipe bomb was glued to it, on the seal. I wish I had more than one bomb, but the chem. lab had a surprising lack of combustible materials. I held the bomb in place for a few seconds, letting the glue dry, before working down the ladder. I went back as far as my bags, before picking up the musket. I aimed, and fired.

“...”

I could practically picture Minuette face-hoofing as my first shot was harmlessly absorbed by the rocky walls. I really hate hoof-aimed weapons. I missed the second shot as well, hitting the hatch. The lightning rippled over the metal, sweeping over the bomb. I was momentarily blinded, my ears ringing as the bomb went off, shaking the tunnel and sending dust everywhere.

My senses returned to me after a few seconds, my ears falling as the smoke cleared, revealing a scorched hatch, cracked walls, and disappointment. I climbed the ladder, giving the hatch a hard thud, ignoring the heat left from the blast. It didn’t budge. What a bucking waste of time!

~~~

I won’t claim to be some sort of genius. I know that a bit of oil, fertilizer, and some gunpowder mixed together in a careful process does wonders for making a big blast. I know how to take all sorts of things apart for salvage, especially guns. And I even know how to put of few of them back together. But when it comes to electronics like robots or terminals, I might as well be a raider with a rock. With a loud clang, the panel finally broke off, revealing the odd circuitry and wires inside. How any of this came together to make the words on the screen was anypony’s guess. With some effort, I managed to get to the old spark crystal inside, finding it lifeless, which wasn’t too surprising.

Maybe it was the passage of time, or some unexpected effect of the megaspells, but all terminals in the Commonground either had dead crystals, or were completely destroyed. So, a terminal with no connection to an alternate power source was useless. And, whatever this bunker was used for must not have been big enough to justify a spark battery. No battery or water talisman, yet it was well stocked with odd chems. Just what was this place for? I shook my head, pulling from my curiosity as I switched out the dead crystal for the musket’s.

With a click, small lights inside the machine came to life, followed by a series of clicks and whirrs. I tapped the table impatiently as the thing booted up, showing green lines of jargon that flew over my head. Stable-tec, model number, some sort of waiver? Ah, there we go! A brief number of options lined up on the screen. A research log, and an itinerary...

I stared blankly at the terminal for a moment, feeling a little numb as I started flipping through the log. Nothing but dry data entries and attempted chemical/magical mixtures. So, this place was used for some sort of private research? My ears fell as I finished looking through all that the terminal offered. There wasn’t even a hint of anything regarding passwords or personnel. A dead end. I stared blankly at the screen, a paralyzing thought slowly dawning on me: Am I going to die down here? Picturing myself dying of thirst, I frowned as my mind raced for options...

Without a hint of consideration, I pulled the spark crystal out, returning to the door to freedom, powering its terminal up. Wasn’t there some way to bypass passwords on these things? After fiddling with the keyboard for what felt like forever, my head slumped, no closer to leaving than before. I gave the corpse an accusing glare, bending close to sift through its clothes. All it had was some keys, and a ruined letter in its pockets. The words on the letter were illegible, likely thanks to any juices a rotting corpse tends to make...

My shoulders shook as I glared at the door. I pictured the winged raider, harassing the others, taking her time. Smiling. I slammed the door. It didn’t budge. I let out a frustrated yell, my eyes falling to the corpse, before giving the skull a solid kick. It was sent bouncing off the wall towards the other end of the room, causing a hollow clang as it hit one of the pods. Great. No. This was better than great. This was just bucking magical! I hit the door again, hooves aching as I glared at it. My eyes lingered on it as my blood slowly cooled down. I felt so tired. I leaned into the exit as I sat down, eyes drifting across the room as a sense of frustrated helplessness began to eat at me.

I suppose it was only fitting. I wanted to leave this all behind. To be with them. I made the foolish choice to want something more from life, and the wasteland dangled it in front of me. And now I’m here, and I could hear it chuckling at me. There was nothing I could do to make the hatch open. I could spend all of eternity trying to guess Sure Fire’s password, and still miss it. There were no other exits. My options were played out, completely. That means I tried my best, right?

I asked this of myself as I pulled out Minuette’s revolver, fiddling with it in my hooves for a moment. Pasture and Littlebloom’s smiles came to mind. I whispered a small apology to my old friend, memories of happier days giving me strength, as I turned the gun to my heart. It beat calmly, as ready as it ever would to end this mad race. As I let out a long breath, my eyes met the skull I’d sent across the room. It was resting at the foot of one of the pods. I could feel its hollow sockets looking at me, disappointed. “Oh, like you’re one to judge,” I mumbled flatly, before an odd thought came to mind.

Slowly turning the gun over, I adopted an annoyed look as I opened its cylinder, seeing a single casing in it, the bullet already spent. My mouth fell open in disbelief. This whole time, Minuette’s gun had one shot, and I’d already given it away! Of course it was already spent! Like a rat like me was going to have it easy!

My hooves trembled, the gun rattling in my hooves. “Th- Thanks for nothing, Minuette!” I proclaimed, getting on my hooves as I glared at the skull. I swear, the damn thing was laughing at me! I chucked her gun towards the abused cranium. It missed, naturally, hitting one of the other pods with a thick thud. I glared at the gun for a moment longer, before glancing to the side.

She wanted me to live, just as I wished for her, so I guess it was only natural that her gun was empty. It wasn’t her fault. I didn’t check the bullets properly when I took her gun. That’s all there really was to it. Walking to the gun, I picked it up, my eyes sweeping over the pod for a moment, before glancing at the skull, letting out a small sigh.

If the revolver wouldn’t work, then I’d have to use the musket. A far less comforting notion. Walking to the terminal, my eyes took in the words on the wall one last time, before reaching for the spark crystal. As I tried to push the picture of my head lighting like a candle wick, my hooves stopped. Another question, far less pointless than most, came to me as I took the writing in: Why was the door even locked?

Come to think of it, the other door had been locked too. I looked to the decorated corpse, before glancing to the other body in the room, and the vats. Would an important looking military pony need all six shots for a single target, at this distance? I frowned, stepping from the terminal. Four vats, two corpses, six bullets. Was he protecting what was in the next room, or something that was in this room?

I looked to the pods. I’d been avoiding them since seeing them, under the impression that they were dangerous. I still thought that. When it comes to mixing all sorts of chemicals together, you can never be to sure when something toxic or explosive will be the end result. Getting closer to the sealed containers, I saw that each had a release lever on the side. Three of them were tied off with red string, which didn’t help dissuade my suspicions. Carefully, I gave each pod a tap with the revolver, getting an empty metallic ring from the red labels, but not the one the gun had landed against. I peered into the window, unable to make out anything in the room’s low light. A few seconds later, I had the lamp in hoof, lifting it to cast light inside.

My eyes widened, nearly dropping the lamp as I saw the bottom of a hoof reached out on the inside, frozen in place, as if grasping for the world outside. These pods were for ponies!? Is it still alive? My curiosity overwhelmed me, making me press my face against the window, trying to get a better look inside. I couldn’t make out the owner, the light unable to penetrate deeper. Frowning, I took a step back, staring at the pod blankly, before glancing back to the locked door. Looks like the answer was closer than I thought!

~~~

A few minutes later, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of the damn thing. The pod’s terminal had no access panel like the others, and after looking over the whole device, I was unable to find a means of replacing its spark crystal. Rubbing the back of my head in annoyance, I glanced at the emergency release lever for a moment, before letting out a weak shrug. What other options were there?

I pulled the lever, getting a crisp sigh from the pod as half of it lurched forward an inch. I stepped back in surprise, the air suddenly feeling cold, misty fog rolling out of the cracked opening. Frost was already forming at the edges as I got closer, making me adopt a considering look, before bringing the dead spark musket from my shoulder. I caught the door with the stock, pulling the gun, opening the door wide. I stepped back, seeing a solid block of blue … something. It wasn’t water, at least, it didn’t look like water. Whatever it was, it completely encased the pony inside. Exposed to the air, a small layer of white frost was quickly forming over it, the room growing colder by the second. As the ice formed, lines were revealed on the cold material. Lines that were slowing coming together to form a spell circle. At the center of the circle, resting on top of the solid mass, was a strange crystal. It had the same magical sigil as a water talisman. A water crystal?

I glanced from the ice to the inside of the open door, seeing the spell circle mirrored into it, like a mold. As the contents of the pod were completely white with frost, the lines started to glow. My breath left a trail in the air as the glow brightened, before the crystal flashed and cracked. I took a surprised step back as the chill in the air immediately turned hot, the glow gone. The contents of the pod came to life, no longer frozen, falling out of the pod unceremoniously, like a bubble of water that’d suddenly popped.

Steam clouded the air as I stepped back further, being lightly splashed in warm blue guck. The strange liquid smelled disgusting. Like somepony decided to barf into a pot and boiled it for half an hour. If my stomach hadn’t been painfully devoid of content, it certainly would after taking this in. Definitely not water. I covered my nose as it all fell through the grated floor, leaving the pony inside laying on the ground, face down, covered in the mixture.

I stared at her for a moment, lost in surprise. Her mane was long, covering her face as it weakly followed the flow of the dripping goo. Her coat was blue, though I think that was just the goop, hiding her true color. She was wearing a necklace burdened with over a dozen dog-tags. Her cutie mark resembled a cat’s-paw, though it looked a little more like the leaf of some plant, with the petals being spread to resemble a paw. My eyes lingered on her flank for a moment longer, before I shook my head.

I’ll admit, I never thought I’d ever see a pre-war pony. In fact, the entire experience felt a little surreal. After everything I’ve been through today, finding a long lost pony from a forgotten era made me feel a little light-headed. Then again, maybe it was the smell doing that. Or, maybe the blood loss? Despite the situation, I couldn't claim this to be the most surreal moment of my life. Easily second or third though. I then blinked, my train of thought derailed as I looked at her face. She wasn’t breathing.

Placing a hoof to her neck, I waited for a moment. She felt warm, but there was no pulse. I glanced at her for a moment longer, before letting out a disappointed sigh. I stepped back, shaking my head. Poor thing. Talk about a waste. I then eyed her necklace, before glancing back to the wall’s terminal. The old computers gave you four tries with password input, before locking out for about half an hour. Taking the necklace, I made my way, my eyes looking through the azure-slicken options. Just which one of these was ‘best friend’ material?

Minuette suddenly came to mind, making me pause, looking over my shoulder to the mare on the ground. A mental image came to mind, a memory: One of a best friend, a filly, blank flank, laying on the ground after foolishly playing with her father’s spark musket. Heart stopped, unbreathing. I ran off to get help. I found her father. He hit me, before running to her. That, was the most surreal moment of my life: Seeing that scumbag stand over her, trying to make her heart beat again. Blowing life back into her lungs...

Was I really okay with walking from this pod-pony like this, when there was a chance she could be awakened? I could feel Pasture giving me a disappointed look. I let out a short curse, aggravated by my own callousness, as I returned to the pre-war mare.

Rolling her on her side, I placed a hoof over her heart, and started pushing my weight onto her. I watched her face with each press, seeing blue guck trickling from her mouth with each push. After the tenth, I brought my mouth to hers, and nearly gagged as my tongue got a taste of goop, making me spit to the side. I frowned at nothing in particular, before getting back to it, trying my best to ignore the taste, as I blew air into her lungs. I watched her chest rise, then fall, before giving her another breath. I then went back to her heart, and repeated. And repeated… And repeated...

How many times I did, I couldn’t be sure. What I was sure of, was that I didn’t want to give up. Minuette’s father didn't give up, and I’d be damned if I was going to be less of a stallion than that bastard. I didn’t even consider giving up. At least, not until my shoulders started to feel tired. Halfway through pounding her heart, she let out a gurgling cough. I let out a small sigh as her body heaved and shuddered, expelling more blue goodness, before she took in a deep gasp. I took several steps back, wearing the ghost of a grin as she collected her breath. In between heaves of blue bile, that is. Did she actually choose to go into that pod? To breath in that guck? I mean, being frozen past the apocalypse was novel, but that shit is beyond nasty. She curled into a ball as her body started to gather itself, her defensive posture making my ears fall.

My smile faded as I realized what I’d just done. I’d awoken a pony from before the last day, and brought her into my world. I glanced to the side as that thought rolled in my head. I hadn’t done her any favors by opening that pod. It may have been better, to just let her die. I mean, she was already dead, so it’s not like she was suffering for laying there, right?

I glanced to her, blinking as I noticed she was taking me in, her confusion clear. She had parted her mane around, leaving most of it on the left side of her face, hiding her eye and cheek with glossy hair. She was looking at me like I was some sort of ghoul. What’s with that look? Oh, right. I’m practically painted in blood. I’d make a decent raider looking like this! Oh great, and now I’m also covered in blue goop too! I let out a sigh as I got on my hooves. Her eye followed me as I walked to the door, an odd, fearless curiosity in her gaze.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” I said sarcastically, motioning to the terminal, “So, who was Sure Fire’s best friend?” I asked coldly, making her blink again, before tilting her head.

“U—” she was cut off, covering her mouth as she coughed out more guck, tears running down her eyes. I waited patiently. “U- Uncle Fire’s best friend was Colonel Catnip.” Huh. I wasn’t expecting a straight answer.

“Is that you?” I asked, putting in the name and password, before getting a disappointing buzz from the terminal.

“No,” she replied, holding a hoof over her chest as she took in slow breaths, before unsteadily getting to her hooves. She winced, placing a hoof over her side, where I pressed my weight. She stood there for a moment, considering the pain, before looking at me, her eye glowing with realization. “Th- Thank you,” she said, making me glance to the side. She won’t be thanking me later. Her gaze then fell to the corpse next to the vats, and the skull by her pod. She didn’t seem all that put off by the bodies, though her ears did fall briefly as she took them in. I tried putting the password in again, adding Catnip’s rank this time. Another disappointing buzz, making me scowl at the terminal, before looking to the mare, who was slowing approaching me. “Door locked?”

“No, I just love it when the terminal buzzes,” I replied dryly, getting a small smile from her.

“Then just hold down these two buttons,” she replied sagely, coming to my side, ready to place two slime covered hooves over the terminal. I swatted her hooves away, getting a surprised look from her, before giving her a rag from my bags.

“I wasn’t being serious, idiot,” I retorted, getting a blank look from the mare as she eyed the rag. “Clean your hooves.” She nodded, doing just that, giving me curious glances every so often as I glowered over the terminal. Perhaps I was getting the login wrong?

“You okay?” she asked, which almost made me laugh.

“Doing just fine. In fact, I’d say that today’s been the best day, ever.” The terminal agreed with another buzz.

“Good to hear!” she then leaned close. Like, almost nuzzling my face close. “Umm,” she began, giving me a serious look that demanded my attention, “You should shower.” … It begins.

“Oh, really? Thanks for pointing that out!” I said giving her a smile, which turned into a scowl as I looked away from her. Is this pony for real?

“Door locked?” she asked again, getting an annoyed sigh from me. Were all ponies this slow back in the day?

“Yes, it’s locked, thanks to Mr. Sure Fire,” I replied, nodding to the corpse at my side. She stared at it for a moment, her mood falling faster than my patience. For a brief moment, it looked like she was going to cry. The moment passed, making me blink as she moved around me, bending close to the corpse, before her eye widened.

“Where’s his tags?” she asked in a desperate, almost fearful tone, glancing back to his skull. Her eyes then widened as she reached for her neck, finding it bare. I gave her a flat look as I presented her necklace, as well as Sure Fire’s. She looked at me in surprise, giving me a guarded look, before taking the trinkets.”Thanks… So, General Fire locked the door?” she asked, serious face back in force.

“That’s what I said.” I pointed to the writing on the wall for emphasis. She looked at it for a moment, before glancing to the corpse. I swear, the way she looked at it, I could almost hear the gears in her head grind as she put two and two together. She then nodded to herself, before pushing me so she could get to the terminal. “H- Hey! We’ve only got one guess left, so don’t—” Beep. The door stuttered open, sliding to the side, letting in a brief rush of air. I blinked dumbly at the opening. The mare turned to me, a bright, proud smile on her lips. Did that really just happen? “How did you do that?” I asked flatly, getting a confused look from her.

“Tag numbers,” she replied, as if the answer were obvious. That won her a look of disbelief from me. She paid it no mind as she added Sure Fire’s tag to her necklace. I rubbed my temple for a moment, before taking the spark crystal from the terminal. It winked out, leaving the door open as I loaded the gem back into the musket. “Odd gun. What’s it do?” she asked, making me look at her. Damn her eye. Her curious gaze reminded me of the eyes of a hungry kitten. How troublesome. Well ... it wouldn’t hurt if she knew how to fire the damn thing. Heavens know she’d probably be a better shot than I.

“It’s called a ‘spark’ ‘musket’. Give it three pumps, point, fire. Two is not enough, four is too much.”

“Spark musket. Three pumps. Gotcha,” she replied, wearing a very focused look as she did.

“Still, shouldn’t somepony like you be asking more important questions?” I asked, getting a confused look from her. “You know, like when is it, or what happened to everypony, or why I’m covered in blood?” She simply shook her head.

“‘Don’t ask questions, just do what you’re told’,” she quoted stalwartly.

“And that’s from?”

“Catnip!”

“Catnip?”

“Catnip,” she answered sagely, which won her another flat look. Just how did somepony this simple end up surviving the last day? I rolled my eyes, keeping my question to myself. If I asked for her story, then she might start asking for my story, and I wasn’t in a sharing mood. Not that I ever was. Giving her the cold shoulder, I entered the next room, adopting a small smile as I took in the mess.

The whole room was ransacked. Anything that wasn’t bolted down was taken long ago, leaving a mess of rust and neglect. The air was a little fresher, lacking that nauseating smell that came with the pod’s blue goop. Not that it mattered, since a pony slathered in said goop was only a few steps behind me. My eyes lazily drifted over broken terminals and glass, seeing nothing worth adding to my bags as I quickly made my way through the room. It wasn’t lit, making me give the musket three good pumps, casting the room in shades of red and blue. I didn’t feel like going back for the now slime-covered lamp. The mare followed me silently, a fact that I simply swallowed. I woke her up, the least I could do was lead her out of our tomb. If I didn’t lead her out, she may very well just linger here and die of thirst. Considering how slow she was, I honestly couldn’t put the possibility past her!

She kept her eyes on me as I went through the pilfered rooms and halls. She was watching my face curiously. Every time I glanced her way, it looked like she wanted to ask me something, but she never spoke her mind. That slowly ate at me, each step feeling a little more aggravated than the next. I tried to distract myself from her presence, but these ruins were so bland and empty compared to where we just were, that it was only adding to my annoyance. After crossing through the fourth pillaged room, I stopped, before turning to her.

“Well, what is it?” I asked, getting a surprised look from her.

“Searching?” she asked, making my eyes narrow.

“An exit.”

“Oh. Well, we gotta find a door.” Wow. There was a complete lack of sarcasm in her voice. She actually thinks- I shook my head, looking away from her, hiding a small grin. There was something amusing about her honest reply, though for the life of me, I couldn’t pin down why.

“A door you say? Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” I replied dryly, getting a nod from her.

“Maybe behind the big lizard?” she asked curiously, making me pause to look at her.

“What?” I asked, honestly confused. The hairs on the back of my neck started to stand up as I heard a low, throaty growl. I glanced over my shoulder, my heart skipping a beat as I saw a pair of slit eyes peering back at us from the dark. Well, shit. Easily twice my size, it let out a low hiss, its long jaw opening, revealing a set of pony-shredding teeth. I can’t say I was surprised. But, I was disappointed, mostly towards myself. I should have known that the other end of this tomb was a radigator’s nest.

“Bad lizard?” the mare asked hesitantly. I swear, I’d buck her if I could- The radigator was charging at us! I backed up, fumbling with the musket, taking aim and firing. The barrel grew lifeless as the room flickered brightly. I hit it!? The bolt caught it on its scaled nose, only to bounce off into the ground, sending a tingle up my legs as the room grew dark. I bucking hit it, and the gun doesn’t work on radigators!

“Run!” I ordered, hopping to the side, feeling the radigator rush past me, crashing into the wall in its momentary blindness. I picked out the faint light from the pod room back the way we came, and made a mad dash for it. She was just a step behind me.

“Weak gun?” she asked incredulously, glancing over her shoulder as the gator let out a primal roar, its stomps making us painfully aware of its chase.

“No, it’s just a flashy sparklight!”

“...Sarcasm?” she asked dumbly, winning a glare from me, “I- I didn’t know!” she added as we returned to the pod room.

I skidded to a stop, before getting the musket back in my hooves. Another reason why I hate rifles: You can’t bucking run and shoot at the same time with these unwieldy things. Well, unless you’re a unicorn. My eyes widened as the lizard entered the room. How’s something so big that fast!? The mare stepped back, jumping over its tail as it swung its body around. The musket was knocked out of my hooves, as well as the air in my lungs.

My hooves left the ground as I flew across the room, crashing into the broken vats. My back lit in pain, feeling shards of glass being where they shouldn’t. I tried to roll off the vats, but my body felt a little jumbled. That, and I wasn’t quite sure where up and down was. As I felt my hooves touch the floor, I felt a warm breath wash over me. My ears fell as I looked into the open maw of the beast. Well, I guess being gator kibble was preferable to ghoul chow. I closed my eyes as death came for me.

There was a flicker of light, a sizzling, and a disgusting pop, followed by a pained roar. Powerful jaws closed, inches from me, making me open my eyes in surprise. The gator was trying to grasp at one of its eyes, now a bleeding socket, its short legs making the task difficult. I glanced to the left, seeing the mare slide to my side, musket in her hooves. She gave it three pumps, a fiery look in her eye as she aimed the gun, showing a level of practice and confidence that left me baffled.

The room flickered as she shot the beast, the lightning ricocheting off the gator, into the ground, sending another tingle up my legs. She narrowly missed its other eye. Is it me, or does every mare in the wasteland seem to be a better shot than me? My pointless question was answered with a tail swipe, catching both of us, sending us flying into the opposite wall. I had the good conscience to soften her blow, being sandwiched between her and the wall in the process. How noble of me. We both fell to the ground in unison. She got on her hooves first, musket primed and ready. Now, if only the barrel wasn’t bent.

The radigator turned towards us. The goopy mare glanced at me, looking at me with the covered side of her face. There were definitely scars hidden under her mane. She then looked to the beast, turning the musket around, wielding it like a club as she stood her ground. I looked on in surprise, as the gator slinked towards as, letting out a hiss.

Just what the buck was going on here? Why am I the one being protected? And why is my protector some pre-war idiot!? And ... why is the gator hesitating? It was looking at the meal standing before it, as if contemplating what to do. I blinked as I looked closer at its face. Was that a hint of disgust in its eye? The wretched taste of the goop suddenly came to mind.

Without thinking, I pulled out a empty vial- no wait, that’s broken glass. Frowning, I pulled out a half-empty plastic container of detergent, courtesy the supply room, quickly getting to my hooves as the beast eyed me. I was the meal here, not my guardian. The pre-war pony let out a surprisingly cute squeak as I grabbed her tail. She glanced at me, surprise and confusion in her eyes as I wiped the goop off of it, all over the container. Without saying a word, I popped off the lid, and bolted out from behind her, running to the left, the gator’s blind side.

“Get back!” I shouted, tossing the trap into the pursing maw, unsure what would happen when the detergent mixed with the guck. The second the slimed plastic touched its tongue, its mouth slammed shut, the force of the snap threatening to topple me over. The gator’s good eye widened as it got a taste of the chemical nightmare, opening its mouth to spit it-

The mare jumped on top of its head, slamming its mouth shut. I could make out a discernible gulp from the lizard. It was followed by a roar, as the crazy mare plunged the butt of the musket into its bleeding eye socket. My mouth fell open as she was thrown off, musket left behind in its cranium. It let out another cry, slamming her in the chest, knocking her against the wall, I ran to her side as the gator charged. Before either of us could reached the stunned mare, the gator froze. It stood in place, seemingly ignoring us, making me and her share looks as I helped her to her hooves. Its head started to weave back and forth, before its gullet started to churn.

Oh for buck’s sake! First burning ghouls, then gore drenched raiders, followed by nauseating goop, and now radigator bile! If I die today, it’ll also be noted as the most disgusting day of my life! The mare looked between me and the gator, a little at a loss at what to do. The lizard no longer seemed interested in us. In fact, it looked like it was having a really bad time. There was blood in it’s bile. The gator slowly backed from us, before slumping weakly, letting out a sad growl as it let out a long, bloody, final breath.

“...Dead?” the mare asked as she walked closer to it, getting a small nod from me as I looked over myself. She looked from the gator, to me, giving me a big smile before pumping a hoof in the air. “Badass defeated!” she exclaimed, giving me an expecting look. All I gave her was an annoyed smile, which turned her enthusiasm into a sheepish chuckle. I sighed as I looked over myself. My bags were in a rough shape, and had a new collection of nicks and cuts, my bandages were more drenched, and I was enjoying all kinds of new aches to go with the old ones.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I said, giving the broken musket a quick glance, still caught in its eye, before scooping up the abandoned lamp, and turning my back on the room. She was slow to follow, coming to my side several seconds later, a bloody musket in her hooves.

“Sorry. Broke your gun,” she said, getting a small sigh from me. “Only one lizard?”

“Can’t say.” With how my luck’s been, that was only the smallest of a dozen. She considered that for a moment, looking back at the lizard once last time, before letting out a sigh. Wait, why did it sound happy?

“That was a good fight~” she let out, stretching, getting an incredulous look from me. She was also sporting a bunch of bloody nicks and cuts, making her as red and blue as I. There was even a rake of gashes on her back leg. That damn thing’s tail did that! “You poisoned it?”

“Yes,” I said bluntly. And now I’ll never be able to forget watching a radigator throwing up it’s last meal. Thank Luna it wasn’t a pony.

“You a saboteur?” Hah! If I were a soldier, that’s what they’d call me!

“No, I’m a scavenger,” I replied, waving a hoof dismissively. “I find things. Sometimes food or ammo, sometimes treasure.”

“Oh! Neat,” she replied, giving me that damnable smile. Why is she so cheery? “What was that? Looked like alligator, only, meaner.”

“It’s a radigator,” I replied, leaving an awkward silence in the air that made her look to the side.

“So … that common these days?” she asked, winning a small frown.

“I guess that means they weren’t common, before the megaspells turned Equestria into hell on earth,” I replied, not bothering to mask the accusing note in my voice. Her ears fell as she glanced to the side.

“So it happened,” she replied. “S- Sorry.” I swear, I’m getting tired of hearing that word! -Wait, is that why I like teasing Lemon? That mare doesn't apologize for anything! I wiped my mind of the disturbing realization, giving the mare in front of me a small glare.

“I don’t need an apology from some old world pony. If you want to wallow in self-loathing for what you ponies did, then go back to your pod and wait to die.” She shook her head at that, giving me a strange look. Was she angry, or was that fear?

“I’m not allowed to die,” she said, holding a hoof over her dog tags. She then glanced to the side for a moment, before giving me a focused look, “Have you ... lost anypony?” she asked. The glare I gave her made her take a surprised step back. “Th- That a yes?” My eyes narrowed at her, before I slowly glanced to the side. Being mad at her for being curious wasn’t doing my health any favors. And besides that, just what is it like to be her? She’s practically lost everypony she’s ever known to balefire and bullets. I guess she’s gone through her own kind of hell. Either that, or the goop’s addled her brain or something, but for some reason, I doubted that was the case.

“I lost my wife and filly,” I replied. I don’t know why I answered her question. Was it guilt? Or did I just want to let it out? Either way, it won me a surprised look from her.

“Th- Then you know what it’s like,” she replied, getting a confused look from me. “You know, feeling like you gotta keep going, for their sake.”

…What?

“What the buck are you talking about?” I asked, stepping towards her. She stood her ground as her face flushed.

“W- Watch your language!” What!? Didn’t she say ‘badass’ earlier- “I mean, you know what I’m talking about. Right?” I really should have left her in that pod.

“No, I don’t know you’re talking about. Idiot!”

“But- You said you lost your wife and filly-”

“Yes, and I don’t want to stay put ‘for their sake’. I want to be with them!” I shouted, making her take a step back as I got in her face. “They’re dead! Nothing I do here is for their sake now! Staying in this hell isn’t doing anything for anypony’s sake!”

“You want to be with them?” she asked in a confused tone, before her eyes widened in comprehension. “No, that’s bad!” she added, shaking her head. “You can’t do that. You can’t throw away your treasure!”

“Throwing away treasure? What are you going on about?”

“Treasure,” she replied, pulling on her necklace, putting a hoof over her heart, “Family and friends,” she then pointed at me, “Wife and daughter.”

“That’s not what treasure is,” I said flatly, “Treasure is caps and comics and bullets and a safe home!” She shook her head, giving me a determined look.

“Treasure is the most important thing. It makes us happy, feel loved. We love our treasures, and we always want to have more.”

“And just how am I supposed to throw my ‘treasure’ away? It was already taken from me!” Aww crap, why am I humoring her!? She quickly shook her head again.

“Treasure can’t be taken, only given up. Wife and daughter, you haven't given up. Your most important treasure, you mustn’t give up. Most important, is your life! If you give it up, you lose all others.” I blinked at her, caught off guard by that. Using the word treasure like that was idiotic, but I couldn’t argue about the importance of one’s own life. I frowned, before glancing to the side.

“That’s nothing more than an opinion,” I replied, getting an angry look from her.

“Opinions are bullets.” I gave her a flat look. “Can’t dodge them. Come without warning. Can really hurt. Plenty of to share.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said dismissively, turning my back on her.

“You think you have no treasure?” she asked, getting silence from me. “You do,” she added stalwartly, making me pause, glancing back to her.

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” she asked, getting a glare from me. She wasn’t wrong. It was the only reason I was still standing. The only reason I even drank the healing potion. And this ancient mare was distracting me from keeping that ‘treasure’ safe! Giving no answer, I continued through the abandoned ruins, leaving a confused mare behind me.

She was wrong. Ponies are not treasures. But, she wasn’t worth the effort it would take to convince her otherwise. Pasture and Littlebloom were taken from me, stolen by the wasteland. I guess when it had, it also took the ‘treasure’ called ‘my life’. Whatever. I didn’t need any other treasures. Just like I didn’t need a new home. I simply needed to make sure Minuette was safe. And then…

I paused in my tracks, the quiet patter of the mare following me falling silent as I stared blankly at the rusty walls. After I reached Minuette, and taken care of the raiders, then what? It was already clear to me that I didn’t have the spine to take my life when she was around. So then what? Do I just stick around until the wasteland finished us off? Isn’t that what it was doing right now? Why was I even fighting back?

“Do you really want to die?” the mare asked. It was such a simple question, and yet, it made my heart skip a beat. She wasn’t the first pony to ask me that. I looked to her, a worried look in her eye. For a moment, I saw Pasture in that look, making me frown as I eyed the ground.

I want to die. I want to lay down, close my eyes, and never open them again. Yet, despite what I want, I survived the death of Haven. I survived the weeks that followed. I survived taking on the raiders, and the dance with the gator. There were several occasions since my dream came to an end, where I should have died. And yet, I’m still alive. It’s almost as if I’m not allowed to die. I blinked, looking to the mare.

“You said you weren’t allowed to die. Why?”

“For the others,” she replied, without an ounce of hesitation. She then put a hoof over her dog tags. “First Lieutenant Blue Cloud. Sergeant Cotton Ball. Private Major Sassypants. Private First Class Hay Maker. Captain Star Burst. Private Green Metal. Staff Sergeant Lolliegold. Private First Class Vine Ripe. Private Maroon. Captain Pastel. Major Hardhoof,” she listed off, each with a bittersweet smile, “All friends that died close to me, on the battlefield.”

“Battlefield?” I asked, before adopting a troubled look, “You were in the Equestrian Army?”

“Yep, just like my parents,” she said proudly, showing two other tags, “Colonel Catnip and Second Lieutenant Sunny Clover.” Seriously? Is she trying to make my loss seem trivial in comparison? I shook my head of the assumption, frowning at her.

“So each of them was a ‘treasure’?”

“Yep! And they still are,” she replied, giving me a smile that had no place in the wasteland. I sighed, turning my back on her and continuing on. She followed quietly, still wearing her smile, as if she had won some sort of prize for her answer. Her smile faltered when we found the exit.

I walked past the mutilated corpses of some radhogs, the only evidence to this rusted facility’s late keeper. The sky was overcast, low clouds dropping rain, as gaps between them gave way to pink clouds higher up. I paid it all no mind as I took several steps into the drizzle, taking in a deep breath. Despite the mess nearby, it smelled significantly nicer than what came before. My coat grew damp, blood and goop washing down my hooves as I glanced back to the mare. She had a troubled look on her face as she took in the mess. Not just the bloody mess at the door, but the dead forest, a collection of miscellaneous bones nearby, the discolored sky.

Her coat was also starting to run wet as she took it in, the blue guck washing away in the rain, revealing a faint green coat, and a darker mane. She had freckles, and upon closer look, I could see the hints of the scar hidden under her concealing mane. Admittedly, her colors were a little too bright for the wasteland. It’d draw too much attention.

“Why is the sky pink?” she asked, getting a considering look from me.

“Right, that’s not its normal color,” I replied, more to myself, “It’s pink because of the bubble.” Well, I guess it’s better she’s not asking all kinds of pointless questions, unlike me. Spares me from having to run my mouth off.

“Bubble?”

“Yes, bubble. It covers the entire area around Trotston,” I explained, motioning to all around us. “Anything can enter from the outside, but nothing inside can leave.” She frowned at that, giving me a confused look.

“Everypony is trapped?”

“I’d give you a sticker, if I had one,” I replied, getting a proud smile from her. Honestly, it’s more fun when they know I’m mocking them… “But yes, that’s why our little patch of the wasteland is called the Commonground. We’re all trapped here. Together,” I explained, getting a sad look from her.

“Everything looks … dead,” she pointed out, ears falling.

“Were you expecting green meadows and rainbows?” I asked, making her shake her head. I let out a sigh, looking into the woods, bringing out my monocular. After looking for a minute, I spotted Ghoulville. That was more than enough for me. “I’m leaving to save a friend. It’ll be dangerous,” I explained flatly, “So, what’ll you do?”

“Go with you.” The damn mare didn’t even hesitate!

“Why?”

“No place to go. And, you didn’t answer my question,” she replied, walking to my side. She then eyed my neck for a moment, before glancing to the side, “Name?” ...Did she just check me for a dog tag?

“Silver Spade. And yours?”

“Kitty Clover, former Second Lieutenant!” she replied, with a salute and everything. Former? I simply shrugged, before trotting down the slope. She followed behind, and I paid her no mind. There was an old friend holding out for me, and I was no longer trapped in a position to let her down!

Foot Note: Level Up.

New Perk: Treasure Finder [Rank 2] - You’re slightly more likely to find treasure in the strangest of places. Just don’t go confusing it for trash, you lucky rat!

New Perk: The Iron Martyr [Rank 4] - You take an additional 3% less damage from melee attacks. Go on! Take a hit for the team!