A Long Journey

by Y1

Chapters

Prologue: A Horse
Chapter 1: Initiation
Chapter 2: Outset

Prologue: A Horse

A Long Journey

Prologue: A Horse

Shifting uncomfortably, Spike lazily tried to get whatever it was that was digging into his back to stop. Finding it impossible to get back to sleep he began clumsily groping behind himself for whatever the thing was. He yelped and sat bolt upright when something slid across the skin on his arm, leaving a deep cut. Holding his arm in front of him he began to gingerly touch the wound as an unusual thought entered into his head.

Skin? Why would I have skin?

Spike blinked.

Why wouldn’t I have skin?

Looking around he realised he couldn’t see and felt around himself, trying to figure out where he was. Standing up on something unsteady, Spike banged his head against a roof of some sort. Spike rubbed his head and noticed a bit of light seeping in through the cracks around the edge of the “roof”. Pushing at the ceiling raised it, and he realised that it wasn’t a roof but a lid. Once the lid was all the way open, he stood to his full height (not very high for an eight year old boy) and examined his surroundings. Apparently Spike had been sleeping in a dumpster. This raised one important question.

How the hell did he fall asleep in a dumpster?

This is weirder than that time I woke up with a lampshade on my head… Wait… I don’t remember that. When did I ever wake up with a lampshade on my head?

Climbing out of the dumpster, Spike headed out of the alleyway and onto the road. Scratching the side of his head, Spike wondered what city this was. Everything in sight was abandoned and crumbling. It was all collapsed buildings, cracks in the road and not a soul to be seen. Spike wandered down the abandoned road for a while until he came across a faded orange backpack lying abandoned in the middle of the street. Bending over and picking it up, Spike opened it and found some clothes inside. A cold shiver made Spike remember he was naked, and, suddenly feeling vulnerable, he put the clothes on. They were a bit too big for him, but fit well enough that he didn’t feel uncomfortable. Pulling out a jumper, Spike noticed a tag with a name written on it.

'Samuel Everson.'

Shrugging Spike put the jumper back in the bag and shouldered it. Looking around he wondered why there was no one around.

Why would anyone be around?

Helplessly shrugging once more, Spike set off in search of answers.

- - - - - - - -

The shovel barely impacted the clay-like soil it was being slammed against. It wasn’t important though. This hole would be dug no matter how long it took, and it was taking a long time indeed. Philomena had started at sunrise, and the scorching sun had now achieved its apex. The sweltering heat had forced her to stop long enough to erect a shade over her head with a tarp and some tent poles before resuming her digging. Eventually that wasn’t enough and Philomena was forced to take off some layers to help regulate her body heat. Though she still kept her sunglasses and the grey rag wrapped around her face.

Normally Philomena wouldn’t bother digging into hard clay when there was perfectly good sand just twenty metres in another direction, but she didn’t care about practicality right now. Damn logic, and damn her own needs. The dead deserve respect, and this was someone that she was going to give all the respect she could. (Even if that respect was a hole that was less than six feet deep in the middle of the desert, and a gravestone that was just a vaguely flat chunk of granite she’d carved into with her combat knife. It had taken a long time to carve too.)

The sun was setting as she finally climbed out of the hole. It was deep enough that it was over her shoulders, so she had to struggle to pull herself out. Normally doing something like that would be easy, being as fit as she was, but after working that shovel all day, her hands were raw and her arms were tired. Still, she got out of the pit and stood there a second panting to help catch her breath again. After a minute of putting it off, she walked out from under the shade over to the black Humvee parked nearby and opened the boot of the car. There he was: zipped up in a military issue khaki brown body bag. Picking him up and slinging the man over her shoulder, Philomena grunted at the weight. He’d never been a large man, but Philomena herself was short in height and small in frame. Simply moving him across the handful of metres that separated him from the hole she’d dug was an effort, especially after digging all day.

Arriving at the hole and laying him down beside it, she gently turned him to face upright. Slowly drawing down the zipper so that his face was visible, Philomena looked at the man with her eyes burning with tears. Lowering the grey rag that concealed the bottom half of her face, she choked back a sob. With her mouth and nose bare, the smell of ten hour old corpse consumed her senses, but she ignored it and the gag reflex that was kicking at her stomach.

The sweltering heat, and stay in the body bag had not done the man justice. His eyes were a milky white, and his skin had turned a waxy yellow. But despite that Philomena could see many of the features that made him the man he was in life. The frown lines on his forehead remained, his hard jaw, that salt and pepper beard, a slight crinkle around the eyes and a scar on the bridge of his nose; they all reminded Philomena that this was him.

Unbidden, the words he had said with such passion entered into her mind: 'We are more than just a collection of cells that cling together for mutual survival, and more than just proteins hitching a ride on the back of a rock floating through space. We are more than just the base chemicals we decompose into upon death. We are people, and we are so much more than the sum of our parts.'

Leaning forward and gently kissing him on the forehead, Philomena sat back and zipped the bag up again.

She pushed the bag into the hole and flinched at the sound of a bone breaking from the drop. Standing up and wiping tears from her eyes, she returned the grey rag to her mouth and began shoveling dirt back into the hole. Filling the hole was much easier than digging it had been, and she was finished in short order. Philomena turned and went to the truck to pick up the rock she was using as a grave stone. Walking back to his resting place, she settled it above the freshly tossed earth.

It had taken hours to carve the gravestone using just a combat knife. It simply read:

'Elijah McKinley

loyal soldier

loving father

laid to rest'

Philomena stood and disassembled the tarp she’d set for shade before returning all the tools she’d used to their rightful place in his car. Hers now.

Standing over the grave one last time, she tried to think of a eulogy for herself and him but couldn’t. Eventually she settled for a promise.

Speaking in the quiet almost-whisper of a voice he’d always stopped to listen to, she began. "Don’t worry, Elijah," her voice cracked on his name. "I’ll find her. I’ll find your daughter, and I’ll make sure she’s safe… and I’ll tell her that you’re sorry…" she swallowed. "I promise."

One year later.

The smoke was the first Rachel ever saw of the fire; a great black pillar of ash rising into the air, choking out the night sky. At first she thought it was unfortunate. Some poor soul had accidentally set fire to their home. But as she approached the turn off to the street leading to her house, she noticed that the smoke was coming from a home very near to hers. That was when she started to think that maybe it would be best to hurry home and aid whoever it was with the fire. If it spread it might be bad for her.

Breaking into a jog, Rachel ran up the hill towards her home. Manehattan was as nice a city as you could hope to find in Badworld. Luna Industries did an excellent job keeping the metropolis that they owned running smoothly, so she was unsurprised to see several fire crews standing around dousing the blaze. At least they would have been standing, if they weren’t all dead and lying in pools of blood mingling with the water running from the unmanned, still spraying, fire hoses.

Rachel froze in place and she stared in open mouthed horror. It took a few seconds for her to process that everyone was dead, and a few seconds longer for her to notice that the fire was coming from her own home.

"Bella!" she shrieked and ran past the corpses towards her home. It was far too late for her to do anything; the heat radiating from the building alone was enough to keep her away from it. Unable to get closer than a couple of metres, Rachel backed up and could only watch as her home burned down.

This was her home. The place she’d lived in for years. Her mother, her father and her younger sister Bella all lived here. Now everything was gone, everything; childhood photos, clothing, food, paper work and ID, money and most importantly her family. Rachel then realised she had no way of knowing if her family was alive. All that she had left were the clothes on her back, the phone in her pocket and the shoes on her feet.

Rachel stood there in simple incomprehension of the event transpiring before her. The phone in her pocket vibrated against her thigh. At first she ignored it in favour of her horror, but after a minute she could ignore it no longer and dug the phone out of her pocket. The caller ID listed her younger sister.

Flipping the phone open, Rachel answered quickly. "Bella?"

"Rachel?" her sister's’ voice came from the other end.

Relief flooded the elder sister’s chest and she breathed a sigh. "Oh, thank goodness you’re Okay! Where are you? Are Mother and Father there?"

A sob came from the other end of the line. "They’re dead…"

Rachel felt her blood run cold.

"Sh-she killed them…" Bella stated quietly and hesitantly.

"Wh-who killed them? Who is she?" Rachel asked, desperation and panic creeping into her tone.

‘Sh-sh-she says to say that she’s taking me north.’

Rachel swallowed her rising panic. "Bella I-"

"And that I’ll be safe and that you shouldn’t follow her.’

"Bella, who is she? What does she look like? Tell-" the phone hung up from the other end. Rachel hit redial but only received Bella’s voice mail.

Pocketing her phone once more, Rachel let the enormity of what had just happened sink in. Her hand's started to tremble so she clenched them into fists to hold them steady. Now was not the time to... to... Oh god, she had nothing. Nothing. Everyone was dead-

No, not everyone. No, Bella was alive. She had to find Bella. That was it. That was all that mattered. She'd go into the house and pack some clothes and-

Rachel glanced at the burning building.

Never mind then...

With nothing but the clothes on her back, Rachel turned headed for the city gate. Was she really about journey out into the Badworld? Was she, a sheltered child from Manehattan, really going to step out into the horrifying wilderness to rescue her sister from a mass murderer? Could she even survive out there? Maybe she could stay in Manehattan and earn her place through maintenance work or something.

No. Staying was not an option.

What was that phrase she'd once heard? 'Forward unto the breach'?

She would have smiled to herself at the laughable idea of her using that phrase if she wasn't seriously in this situation. Or if she hadn't seen everything she loved burn down mere minutes ago

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh-

No! Now was not the time for that. Rachel would find Bella come hell or high water. No matter what it took, she would survive this and see to it that her sister did too.

Theresa bent over and picked the 32 calibre snub-nosed revolver out of the pile of broken glass. Guns like these were definitely not Theresa’s first choice; inaccurate, prone to jamming, poor penetration and only six shots. Truly it was a gun for people who didn’t know better. It was Clara’s gun in fact, and those were Clara’s bullets strewn across the floor, and the broken glass had come from her computer.

"Listen, Theresa. I know you’re angry at me."

Ignoring Clara’s protests, Theresa loaded one bullet into the cylinder before snapping it back into the gun and giving it a spin. Now it was randomised.

Clara continued "But you have to understand if I’d told you-"

Theresa interrupted her in a bland voice. "One in six."

Clara blinked in confusion. "What?"

Pointing the gun at her face, Theresa pulled the trigger.

Click.

Clara screamed. When she realised she wasn’t dead, she spoke shakily. "Theresa…"

"One in five."

Click.

Clara flinched. "Theresa please put down the gun and we can talk about this-"

"One in four."

Click.

"Please, I’m sorry-"

"One in three."

Click.

"I’m sorry!"

"One in two."

Click.

Clara trembled as Theresa thumbed back the hammer one last time "please, I-"

"Mathematical certainty." Theresa paused. "He was my brother, Clara."

Theresa shouted out now. "I know and I’m sorry! What I did was wrong, I should have told you!"

"Yes… You should have."

Theresa pulled the trigger back, activating the spring mechanism that caused the hammer to slam forwards into the bullet with the intent of creating an explosive chemical reaction. This reaction would result in the bullet being ejected from the barrel at high velocity, sending it through the air and passing into the body of whatever it was pointed at. In this case it would be ripping a hole through the skull and entering into the brain of its victim, displacing brain matter and tearing apart vital neural connections, resulting in death upon the target.

Except that didn’t happen.

Click.

The gun jammed.

32 calibres truly were the gun for people who didn’t know better. Dropping the revolver, Theresa reached under her coat and pulled out a 9mm semiautomatic. These were much more reliable and far less prone to jamming.

"You’re very lucky." Theresa said as she flipped the safety off and chambered a shot. "You had a one in seven hundred and twenty chance of surviving the first five, and your chances including that last one were about one in two million." Pointing the gun at the petrified Clara’s face, Theresa continued. "If I ever see you again, it’ll take more than a miracle to save you."

Clara trembled as Theresa flipped the safety back on, holstered her pistol and turned away. Her footsteps crunched on the broken glass as she walked towards the door.

The door to the saloon banged open, and Jack glanced around the room. There he was sitting on a stool at the bar. The man named Joe. The room was mostly empty except for a bartender, Joe and a musician who wasn’t going bother to play in this heat for an empty house.

When she saw him, Jack felt a variety of emotions stream through her. One was a little thrill, a jolt of excitement that raised the little hairs on the back of her neck. She was looking forward to this. Another was a touch of fear that crawled into her belly, a reminder of how she’d felt when she’d last seen the man. That fear was rapidly crushed and tossed aside. Now things were different. Now Jack had the power. Lastly, a red hot bolt of anger rose into her mind, a fury so complete and utterly consuming that it took all of Jack’s formidable self-control not to rush over and strangle him right then. All she did in response to these feelings was scowl and approach the man slowly.

Her boots hitting the floor boards must have alerted him to her presence, but he chose to ignore her for some reason.

Big mistake.

Sliding into the seat next to him, Jack eyed him up. "Joe?" she asked in her accented voice.

"Who wants to know?" The man responded rudely in a rough voice, raising his shot of whiskey for a sip.

Jack paused. She wanted to kill him, but he had to know who she was first. "Do ya’ll recognise me?"

Turning in his seat, Joe examined the woman next to him. She was tall with sun darkened skin and her blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail. A freckled face and green eyes glared at him and atop her head rested a worn brown Stetson.

Shaking his head, Joe answered. "No I don’t know you, miss…?"

Not breaking eye contact, she responded. "Jack. But back then Ah was called Jacqueline."

Scratching the side of his head, the man searched his memories. "Jacqueline...? Nope doesn’t ring any bells."

"Well ya might remember me from when you last came through this town, ‘bout twelve years ago. Ah was around eight back then, an’ wearing frilly pink dresses with a beehive hairdo."

A look of recognition dawned on his face, and he reached under his coat for what Jack guessed was a gun. "Yeah I remember now… What do you want?" he asked examining Jack more carefully now.

"Ah think ya can guess." Jack said, staring the man in the eye and making no move.

The man paused and cocked his head. "You don’t have a gun."

Jack nodded and continued to stare into his eyes. "Yep. Sherriff heard you was coming and figured Ah’d try somethin’. So he stopped over and took mah guns, mah bowie, mah tomahawks and all the rope Ah had lyin’ around, before taking me to a holding cell... Ah got out."

Joe chuckled, and Jack could see his confidence returning. "Well I do have a gun so you might have some trouble with that… You were planning on killing me, weren’t you?"

"Ah still am."

Joe shook his head, seeming bemused. "You’re insane. I work for Celesticorp. Even if you do somehow kill me, you’ll have a bounty bigger than what I’m even worth on your head."

"Ah know." Jack said, leaning in closer.

They stared at each other for a second before Joe started to draw his gun. He just managed to clear the holster before Jack’s hand rammed into his throat; he started to choke briefly, stumbled to his feet and knocked his stool over. Standing with him, Jack grabbed his gun hand and twisted it behind his back before slamming her palm into the elbow joint. It broke at an unnatural angle, and with a gurgle of pain he dropped the gun. She kicked his legs out from under the man, and caught him as he fell backwards into her arms, which she wrapped around his head and neck before twisting sharply.

Crack!

Letting go, Jack stepped back and let the corpse drop to the floor.

The bartender watched wide-eyed, and the musician bolted for the door. She made no move to stop him. Jack stood there watching the corpse for a second trying to feel something about what she’d done.

A voice getting closer from outside the door sounded out. "Damn it Braeburn! How’d you let her get out!" Jack recognised the voice as the sheriffs. The saloon door banged open and the Sheriff strode in followed by his three deputies. "If she kills him then it’s deep shit for all of…us…" He trailed off as he saw her standing there over the corpse of Joe.

"Sheriff," Jack said with a polite tip of her hat. "Ah’d like my stuff back now."

The sheriff glanced between Jack and the corpse before pulling his revolver. "Ah’m gonna to have to arrest you now."

"You can try," Jack stepped over the corpse. "Or you can give me mah stuff back and we’ll never see each other again."

"Ah can’t do that Jack," the man thumbed back the hammer on his revolver. "Celesticorp will want you now and Ah can’t just say Ah let you get away. Damn it Jack, we needed this!"

Rolling her shoulders and neck, Jack didn’t respond.

"This wasn’t just about you, you know. Everyone’s in the shit now, thanks to you."

Sighing, Jack adjusted the hat resting a top her head. "Ah’m gonna need my stuff back."

"You’re not gonna come quietly are yeh?"

Jack simply shook her head.

The sheriff sighed "so be it," and pulled the trigger on his revolver.

Click.

Pulling the thumb back again, the sheriff fired once more.

Click.

Cycling through all six cylinders produced nothing but more empty clicks.

Turning the gun over and examining it, the Sherriff said aloud, "Blanks. That’s why you didn’t put up a fight this morning. You heard he was coming, snuck over in the night and replaced our shots with blanks!"

Jack reached into her back pocket and pulled out a key which she tossed to Braeburn.

"And you pocketed the spare cell key. That’s how you got out." The Sherriff holstered his gun and drew his bowie knife instead. "You’re still not getting your gun back, and you’re still under arrest."

"If you say so," Jack said as she lowered herself into a fighting stance.

Skipping down the hall, Patricia whistled a jaunty tune to herself.

Surrounding her were countless relics of cultures and histories long forgotten from before. Somehow this one man had created one of the last true vestiges of human history here in these remote mountains. It was incredible really. A single man working alone had somehow constructed all of this.

There were books, tablets, statues, scrolls and a thousand more examples of culture and history lying around the room. Literally lying in pools of gasoline and lighter fluid Patricia had carted up from the basement. The occasional corpse joined them; other students of this man, maybe a servant of his or two. Patricia didn’t know who they were. She’d never really paid attention to the other people who lived here. They’d all tried to win the game, but in the end they’d lost too. It had taken a decade and a half but now… finally after so long Patricia had won. That fact alone made this the greatest day of Patricia’s life. (Not that that was saying much.)

Following the trail of gasoline to the front door, Patricia stepped outside to where she’d prepared her things and where she’d left him waiting. A few backpacks for food, clothes and other supplies, her swords and of course the most important one: a packet of roadside flares. Patricia stooped over and pulled out the flares, lighting them all one by one and tossing them into the house behind her.

Not all the flares landed in gasoline, but the ones that did lit it up instantly. It didn’t take more than five minutes before the timbers in the walls started to burn too. The fire would start at the lower levels and work its way up. Slowly the whole structure would burn down, and everything this man had worked so hard to build would be destroyed.

Her work done, Patricia turned to face the one who’d built all this. "Well here we are. Bet you thought you were gonna win didn’t you?" Tilting her head to the side, Patricia examined the man from another angle trying to read any reactions he might display. "You could have won the game at any time at all but noooooooo," Patricia shook her head slowly, "you had to let me stick around. Well, you should’ve killed me when you had the chance, because now I’m the winner."

The man didn’t say anything back as a single drop of blood formed on his top lip and dripped out onto his chin.

Patricia turned back to examine the burning home. "I like fire."

Turning back to him, Patricia smiled. "It’s been fun but I have to go now, you know, other places to go, other games to win. You never taught me much about the world, but I’ll figure it out as I go…"

Patricia plucked the disembodied head off the spike she’d embedded it on. This was all that was left of the man. His legacy was being destroyed, and the only person who carried his lessons anymore was the one who had removed his head in the end.

Staring at him forlornly for a second, Patricia shrugged once more. "Well… bye I guess..."

Tossing the head up and catching it by the jaw, Patricia pulled her arm back and pitched the head into the building. It shattered a pane of glass as it passed through a window. That was the last Patricia ever saw him.

Sitting down and crossing her legs, she watched the fire spread to the roof of the building. It was a treasure trove of knowledge that the world would never recover. Patricia felt deeply satisfied.

"I won," she repeated to herself.

"No!" Gilda said as she paced back and forth across the black stone platform suspended above the gaping void. "Not this shit again!" she shouted out to the abyssal heavens.

"We told you we would return," her lone companion stated.

Gilda turned on her and shouted, "Well you shouldn’t be able to tell me anything, you’re a fucking dream! I don’t care what you say or how often you appear, I’m sick of this shit! Get the fuck out of my head!"

For her part the winged, horse, unicorn, thing looked bemused. "Is it really so hard for thee to accept our existence as truth?"

Gilda shouted out, "Yes it fucking is! I don’t care what the fuck you say, or how many times you show up in my dreams, you’re not real!"

"Dreams that thou rememberest as clearly as day? Dreams that repeat in thine own mind for an entire week? No Gilda, these are more than simple dreams, we are-"

"You’ve said this already," Gilda interrupted. 'Thou art Luna,' she said in a mocking copy of the alicorn’s regal tone. "Not just Luna, but Princess Luna, co-ruler of Equestria and responsible for raising and setting the moon. You’ve told me before, and I still don’t believe it. You’re not real; this is just a really fucking weird, lucid, reoccurring dream."

"If it were lucid, it would fall under thine own control," the horse answered with infuriating calm. "Aside from that, we would remind you that there is no end to our patience. We shall appear in thine dreams every night for the next twenty years if need be. Eventually you shall do as we ask."

Gilda rubbed her eyes with her fingers, "No… No. No! Fucking no! I’m not going all the way to fucking Trotonto on the words of a goddamn dream horse!"

"Pony," Luna calmly corrected.

"Whatever! I’m not going to Trotonto."

"Yes, thou art," the horse smiled calmly and confidently. "Because we shall prove our existence on this night."

"No you’re not because you don’t exist, there’s nothing for you to prove because you can’t prove anything."

"Circular reasoning,’ the horse said with an ever patient shake of its head. "Regardless, we shall make a prediction tonight that shall be proven true over the coming months."

Gilda shook her head. "Why the fuck do you speak like that?"

The horse was somehow able to shrug despite using four legs to stand. "A thousand years spent in banishment upon the moon has left us ill-prepared for the modern tongue."

"That doesn’t make any goddamn sense."

Luna chuckled. "Regardless, these are our predictions. Your leader Sierra, or Spitfire as she is known, shall receive an agent of Luna Industries. That agent shall make an offer to end the bounty that is upon her head in exchange for one thing," the horse paused dramatically and pointed a hoof at Gilda. "Thy life."

The human responded with confusion. "Me? Why the fuck would Luna Industries want me?"

The horse smiled as it answered. "Because we are speaking to thee."

"That doesn’t make any sense."

"In any case it is the truth. We do not know when it shall happen, but happen it shall. Be wary of thy friends, for when their lives are on the line their loyalty to you shall be tested, and you shall find them wanting."

Gilda shook her head, refusing to believe what she was hearing. "No, that’s bullshit. Me and the Wonderbolts are brothers. Spitfire’s like my big sister, Soarin’s my boyfriend for fucks’ sake, and no way is Rebecca gonna let anyone turn on me. Just go away, I don’t care about your crap."

"No, we shan’t leave you."

"Why not? If you do exist, then there’s gotta be someone else for you to bug."

The horse sighed sadly. "We are afraid not. We have no else to speak with, and we are desperate for companionship."

Gilda blinked. "You want to be friends, with me?" she said in a disbelieving tone.

The horse nodded. "Yes."

Gilda shook her head and paced away. "This is un-fucking believable. My subconscious is feeling lonely!"

Luna chuckled. "No… What is unbelievable is that we should be so desperate for companionship to seek it with one such as thou."

Gilda turned to face her. "Was that supposed to be a joke or an insult?"

"Both, we should think," Luna said with a smile. "Is that not part of the give and take nature of friendship?"

"I don’t need an imaginary friend!"

Luna shrugged "Well then it’s a fortunate thing that we are not imaginary. So how-"

The black stone platform they were suspended upon started shaking violently and muffled sounds could be heard.

The platforms movement caused Gilda to fall to her hands and knees. "What the fuck is happening now?"

Luna appeared unaffected by the shaking. "I believe someone is trying to awaken you."

"Why?" Gilda shouted.

The horse gave a wry smile. "Perhaps it’s because a Luna Industries employee has arrived asking for thee by name. Whatever the case, I’ve enjoyed our conversation, however brief, and shall allow you to awaken now. Fare thee well."

Gilda’s eyes snapped open, and she shot bolt upright. The blanket that had been covering her slid down into her lap, uncovering her bare chest and shoulders.

"Fucking finally," a voice to her left said. "You sleep like you’re dead."

Gilda turned and saw Rebecca standing there staring down at her. Blinking a few times, Gilda eventually realised she was no longer trapped in a dream with a talking horse, but rather back in the tent she had fallen asleep in.

Rebecca and Gilda were quite different in appearance. Where Rebecca was of below average height and athletic, Gilda was tall and brawny. The smaller woman had rose-coloured eyes and the gayest hair around; a short cut splash of bright rainbow colours that were completely natural and had been there since childhood. She had a pretty, well-proportioned face and a single piercing in the side of her nose. Gilda on the other hand had muddy brown eyes, was completely bald from a young age, and was damn ugly with fairly masculine features and a nose that bore the marks of having been broken repeatedly. The two of them dressed similarly in biker gear with black jackets and what-not, but Rebecca kept her arms bare for some reason and always wore a sleeveless jacket.

"Dude, get up," Rebecca said, leaning down and offering Gilda a hand.

Gilda didn’t take it immediately. "Why’d you wake me up? Also where the fuck is Soarin’?"

Rebecca took her hand back. "Soarin’s with Spitfire and the other Wonders. I woke you up because apparently the god-damn helicopter didn’t."

Gilda blinked. "Helicopter?"

"Yeah," Rebecca grinned. "A helicopter, showed up in the night and a bunch of guys from the moon hopped out."

A small amount of apprehension started to rise in Gilda. "Luna Industries?"

Rebecca nodded.

"What did they want?" Gilda asked, feeling worried.

Rebecca didn’t notice Gilda’s apprehension and gave a light hearted shrug. "I don’t know, but I heard your name get mentioned a few times so I thought I better wake you up."

There is no fucking way that horse is right.

Rebecca continued, "Come on, put your wig on." She tossed Gilda the grey and red patterned bandana she wore to hide her baldness. "And get some clothes on. Why were you naked anyway?"

"Soarin’ was in here," Gilda grumbled as she stood up and pulled on her clothes.

"And he’s here now." A confident voice said from the outside the tent. The flap popped up and in came Soarin’, the devil that had been spoken of.

Soarin’, like Spitfire, was one the deadlands mythical super mutants. For some reason the deadlands produced a high number of weird mutations in the people that lived there. Most of the time it was something harmless, like Rebecca’s hair or Gilda’s baldness. But occasionally it would cause painful defects, like the bones in your hand being melded together or maybe your eyes growing to be much too large, or even finding yourself unable to walk on your own two feet and having to crawl everywhere. But stories did exist of people who were granted strange abilities by the deadlands mutagenic effects. Spitfire for example, could create and hold fire in the palm of her hands.

Most people didn’t believe super mutants existed. They were just one of those example of the Deadlands many myths, like the striped woman and her bone garden or the flying city that drove everyone who saw it insane. But unlike those two, super mutants definitely existed.

Gilda tried to glare over her shoulder at the man, but felt her apprehension die at the sight of him.

No way he’s gonna turn on me.

Rather than glare she smiled. "And if he knows what’s good for him he’ll get the fuck out while I get dressed."

Smiling, Soarin’ winked as he crossed the distance between the two of them. "It’s funny how you weren’t worried when I was undressing you just a few hours ago."

"Shut up dumbass." Gilda said with a smile and a roll of her eyes before the two of them kissed. Gilda had to lean down slightly being taller than Soarin’, who was of slightly above average height.

"Get a room," Rebecca muttered.

Gilda pulled away and said in a jovial tone, "You’re in my tent bitch, and this is my boyfriend. So you can go fuck yourself, as you usually do." Rebecca didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment, a fact that Gilda was more than a little happy to poke fun at her for.

Chuckling, the shorter girl walked out of the tent. "I’ll leave you two alone then."

Turning back to her boyfriend, Gilda noticed Soarin’ eyeing her appreciatively. "What are you looking at?" she said with a smile.

"Fuck you’re ugly," he said with a happy stare.

Gilda’s good mood vanished. "What?" she said angrily. Yeah Gilda knew that she wasn’t winning any beauty pageants, and yeah she knew that was the sort of girl Soarin’ was into, but still. There’s just some shit you don’t say.

"You dressed then?" the man asked stepping back towards the tent flap.

"Yeah…" Gilda answered slowly, still feeling pissed off.

"Good, come on Spitfire wants to see you," he said stepping outside.

Following him outside, Gilda muttered angrily to herself. The two of them walked towards Spitfire’s large command tent past all the assembled Wonderbolts. The camp was way busier than normal for this time of the night. Gilda spotted the helicopter Rebecca had mentioned sitting outside the main camp. Its crew were sitting around and waiting on whoever was in the tent to be done with Sierra. Pushing open the tent flap, Soarin’ stepped inside and Gilda followed him in. Sierra stood in there, alone with some other guy in a business suit. In the man’s hand was a laptop and she was leaning over him to look at it.

Sierra looked up at Gilda and pointed at her, speaking to the man next to her. "She’s the one you want right?"

Soarin’ entered through the tent and was standing just in front of Gilda with his back turned.

The man in the business suit nodded. "Yes that’s her."

Spitfire nodded at Soarin’, and he turned around and splayed his palms at Gilda. A blue ball of energy shot out at her. The blast of energy sent Gilda flying out of the tent and onto her back several feet away. Her ears ringing and a massive headache splitting her mind, Gilda rose to her feet surprisingly steadily given how she felt like she was just caught on the edge of an explosion. Yanking a knife out from under her coat, Gilda broke into a run towards her boyfriend, who looked surprised but still fired another ball of energy. Gilda stepped to the left, but the ball still caught her shoulder and sent her spinning onto her face on the ground once more. In a world of hurt now, Gilda climbed to her feet once more and was again struck with a ball of energy. Seeing the knife just in reach, Gilda grabbed it and shakily climbed to her feet.

"Fuck you’re a tough bitch!" Soarin exclaimed. "Most people would stay down after the first blast let alone-"

Spinning around, Gilda threw her knife at Soarin’, interrupting him and forcing him to dodge the knife just in time for it to scratch his face rather than kill him. The knife embedded with a thunk in the wooden post at the centre of Spitfires tent. Aiming his palms once more, Soarin’ fired another blast of energy that hit Gilda directly and knocked her onto her back. Slowly raising her head to try and stand again, Gilda’s progress was halted by a boot smashing into her face.

"Stay the fuck down!" Soarin’ shouted at her.

Gilda was rolled onto her face, and her hands were tied behind her back. She was too dazed and hurt to resist. Pulling the hurt woman to her feat, Soarin’ dragged her over to Spitfire’s tent where he forced her down to her knees.

The man in the business suit looked at Gilda for a second before he turned to Spitfire. "Well that’s that then. If you’ll hand her over to my men then-"

"Hold up a sec," Spitfire interrupted him. "We don’t know if you’re gonna stick to your end of the bargain. We signed the contract yeah, but until I see what we agreed on you ain’t gonna get her."

The man considered her for a second. "Very well then, I’ll return on the morrow with evidence of our claims and we can do the exchange then."

Spitfire nodded.

The man stood up and pressed a fedora down onto his head. "Ma’am," he politely nodded at Spitfire, "Sir." He nodded at Soarin’ as well and stepped outside the tent.

Turning to face Gilda, Spitfire shook her head. "Goddamn moon men." She stared at Gilda sadly for a second before shrugging forlornly and turning towards Soarin’. "Some of the Wonder Bolts might be upset about this, so take her out among the Bolts and keep her there for tonight. Pick two Bolts who you can trust and set them to watch her."

Soarin’ nodded and pulled Gilda to her feet once more.

Gilda could scarcely comprehend what was happening to her. "Soarin, why are you-"

"Shut up," he said and shoved her towards the exit.

"Spitfire we-"

She was interrupted by another shove from Soarin’. All the Wonderbolts were standing around watching the events unfold before them.

Gilda felt like a hand had reached down her throat and wrapped its fingers around her gut before proceeding to violently yank it out. There was no way Gilda was gonna cry in front of everyone, but damn was it a tempting option. She felt torn between burning rage at being betrayed and horrible despair and sadness upon realising that the three people she cared for most in the world barely gave a shit about her.

"Some fucking brothers we were!" Gilda shouted out loud for all to hear. All the assembled Wonderbolts stood and watched without intervening. "After all the shit we’ve been through, this is it?!"

Soarin’ shoved Gilda once more.

Standing among the other Wonderbolts and looking confused was Rebecca. Locking eyes with her, Gilda felt her hurt, her betrayal, her confusion, her fear and everything else, all poor into her own brown eyes and moisten them. Gilda tried to hide her emotions, but in this case she couldn’t. This was a betrayal of almost everything she believed in. Her boyfriend, her brothers and her sisters had all shown just how little their bonds were worth.

Unbidden, the words from Luna returned to her head. 'Be wary of thy friends, when their lives are on the line their loyalty to you shall be tested and you shall find them wanting.'

Parking the bike carefully, Rebecca put her helmet on and lowered the visor over her rose-coloured eyes. The gun in her hand wasn’t the best but it’d have to do; an assault rifle with bullpup configuration, meaning the grip and trigger was located near the front and the magazines were inserted near the back. Rebecca had chosen this gun because it had decent effective range and could be fired one handed. Not that it was meant be, but it could be, and that would have to do.

This was it, a few seconds from the point of no return. If she went through with this they’d call her a traitor, but if she didn’t, she’d call herself a traitor. There was no way she could sit by and watch this happen. Gilda was her sister, not in blood but in bond, and now the Wonderbolts were going to hand her over to Luna Industries. This whole situation made Rebecca feel as conflicted as a warzone. The Wonderbolts, her gang, the people she’d fought with, and ridden with, and partied with, and who had given her everything she had in life, were now selling out one of their own. That one had to be Gilda. Rebecca couldn’t stand by and watch, she just simply couldn’t. The Wonderbolts had proven themselves disloyal, and a friend was about to die because of their betrayal. That didn’t change the fact that she felt like she was about to shove a knife into the back of someone she loved.

But still, she just couldn’t forget that look on Gilda’s face. That look of complete vulnerability and betrayal was something she’d never seen on anyone’s face before; she just couldn’t get it out of her head. The way it was directed at her only made it worse.

Damn it this was a dumb plan. Hell, to call it a plan was an insult to good plans everywhere. Really it was less of a plan and more of a general idea of what was going to happen and why it wasn’t going to work. Having only learned of what was going to happen last night, Rebecca had scrambled around the gangs camp trying to cobble together the means to save Gilda. She’d only had moderate success. Sure she had a gun but it was far from an ideal one, even with the under-slung grenade launcher. Yeah she’d managed to get the fuel bombs set, but they were small and hastily made, and she couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t be found or even be certain that they’d go off even if they weren’t uncovered.

On the plus side she’d been able to snatch a couple of refined power cells, or RPC’s, from their supply buggy’s trailer. Some people hated them because they were so unstable and a decent flame could detonate one, but Rebecca swore by them. A refined power cell could keep a semitrailer going for thousands of miles and were way lighter to carry then fuel. Most people drained most of the energy from them into several smaller cells to make them more stable, even if they lasted nowhere near as long.

The camp was divided into the core group of the Wonderbolts, real tough hombres that handled most of the real combat and sticky shit, and just the plain old Bolts, more or less just a freaking huge gang. All together the Wonderbolts and Bolts were the biggest and baddest biker gang in the deadlands, and that was saying something. Rebecca and Gilda were both born and raised among the scattered communities in the Deadlands that call the gangs that roam it lord and protector. Just like every other dumb kid in the Deadlands, they wanted to become Wonderbolts when they grew up. But unlike every other kid, Rebecca and Gilda were tough enough to pull it off.

The Wonderbolts were supposed to be a brotherhood; they had a freaking initiation ritual that’s how tight they were. Rebecca clearly remembered sharing shot glasses of rattlesnake venom and blood with Gilda and the day's afterwards spent vomiting and shivering. Good times.

They were led by Sierra or 'Spitfire' as she was known and Sam 'Soarin' as her second in command. Never mind that initiation or all the shit they’d been through together. They were going to sell Gilda out like she was just a shitty little Bolt. No apparently she was worth even less than that, since Spitfire would supposedly never even sell out a Bolt. Yet somehow here it was; Gilda being turned over to Luna Industries with barely even one night to think it through.

There they were, just coming into sight now at the edge of the horizon. That helicopter. The people that in the end were responsible for this mess, but not the ones that she would have to kill for it. Luna Industries. With a final sigh Rebecca checked to see if Gilda and her three captors were where they should be. Yep they were, about a hundred metres out front of the mass of bikes and leather jackets. Hundreds of Bolts between them. This was it then.

The bike rocketed forward as Rebecca applied the accelerator, and a few surprised gang members in front of her jumped out of the way cursing at her, but she ignored them. If they didn’t pull a gun on her they could live, even if they were traitors. Rapidly weaving through the crowd, Rebecca caught sight of Spitfire who was raising her hands and shouting at Rebecca to stop. Ignoring her, Rebecca raised her rifle and fired a flashbang grenade from her underslung launcher. The grenade detonated and all the nearby Bolts were thrown into pandemonium by the device, as they clutched at their eyes and screamed in pain. Rebecca’s silvered visor shielded her vision from the blast.

Having cleared the crowd all that stood between Rebecca and Gilda were Soarin’ and two regular old bolts armed with guns. Twisting the handlebars so she wasn’t racing directly at the four people, Rebecca aimed her rifle as carefully as she could.

This was the really bad part of the plan. At a distance of about 80 metres Rebecca would have to precision shoot three people, with one hand, using a two handed rifle, all of whom had a better firing position and more accurate guns then her. She had to do this while in motion and not hit Gilda. This was particularly remarkable because the rifle’s maximum effective range was just one hundred meters, making this officially a dumb idea.

Time slowed down for Rebecca as she raised the gun and fired. The first shot went wide, and Rebecca mentally noted it as a point of reference for future attempts. Her next shot hit its mark and. Soarin went down with a wound to the shoulder. The third and fourth shots were complete failures; one of them actually grazed Gilda. The two standing Bolts turned around and started to return fire, but they were shooting full auto in sheer panicked reaction mode and failed to hit Rebecca, zigzagging as she was. As she closed in, Rebecca’s marksmanship improved, and she knew her chances of missing would decrease. Her fifth shot nailed one in the chest, as did the sixth, ending one member, and the seventh was a perfect head shot on the last man standing.

All the gang members down, she dropped her rifle and let it hang from her shoulder by its strap. Rebecca allowed her bike to slow down and reached out a hand. Gilda saw her coming and raised her bound-together hands to grab onto Rebecca’s and was swung up onto the back of the bike. Landing less than smoothly, the bike jerked to the right with the sudden weight change, forcing Rebecca to compensate to stop the bike tipping over.

"Holy fuck, am I glad to see you!" Gilda shouted over the wind.

"I’d never leave a friend hanging!" Rebecca shouted back. "Are they following us?!"

Rebecca could feel Gilda shift around in her seat. "Yeah!"

"How many?!"

"All of them!" Gilda shouted over the wind.

Rebecca swallowed and reached under her jacket for the detonator. Trying to ignore the guilty feeling she was suffering from, she flipped the cap off and hesitated to press the button down.

"What’s that!?" Gilda shouted out.

Just eight fuel bombs, just eight. At most thirty people will die, they’ll have to stop and we can get away. They’re not your brothers they’re a pack of traitors. A pack of traitors and it’ll be less than thirty people. Traitors, only thirty. Thirty traitors. That’s it.

Pushing the button down, Rebecca watched the explosions in her mirrors. At first it happened as Rebecca more or less planned on. The first of the bombs went off, sending fragments and drops of burning fuel scattering in every direction, leaving the bikers reeling and breaking formation. Plenty were wounded and fell from their bikes screaming in pain as they patted the burning oil fires that coated their skin. But then the fourth went off, and it was different from what it should have been. A fuel bomb shouldn’t make a dome of brightly coloured orange energy.

An RPC must have been caught in the fire. Wait… RPC’s !

With a growing sense of dread, Rebecca prayed that one of the fuel bombed bikes had not moved closer to the massive haul of refined power cells that were being pulled behind the gang’s supply buggy.

An initial explosion twice as large as the first was followed by a scattering of similar sized explosions as RPC’s were sent flying through the air and detonating amongst the pursuing Bolts, both Wonder and regular. Soon there were so many explosions going off that not a single gang member was visible between the orange domes of energy. All the shock waves kicked a massive cloud of dust into the air.

Rebecca slowed her bike down before pulling to a stop. The two of them watched for a minute as the entire gang was killed. The people that they’d fought alongside and grown up with, friends and rivals, all dead in under a minute. Upwards of a hundred people, gone. Just like that.

Neither of them said anything for about a minute, just staring at the grey cloud of dust that had commandeered the horizon.

"Fuck em." Gilda was the first to speak.

Rebecca didn’t say anything, still too shocked to respond.

"They sold me out." Gilda continued. "Soarin’ was my goddamn boyfriend, and he sold me out. We were practically raised by those people, and they were just gonna sell me to Luna Industries. Fuck em."

"Yeah… fuck em." Rebecca repeated, but quietly and with less conviction.

Turning to face Rebecca, Gilda asked, "Dude, that was a big-ass boom. What the hell did you use? Were you trying to kill all of them?"

Rebecca shook her head dumbly.

I killed all of them.

"Fucking horse was right," Gilda said, shaking her head in disbelief and turning back to watch the dust cloud.

"Uh huh," Rebecca agreed, with no idea what she was agreeing to.

The taller woman hopped off the bike and turned to face Rebecca. "Get these off me will you?" she asked, holding out her bound-together hands.

Rebecca dumbly nodded and took out her combat knife. She began to cut the cords that were tying Gilda’s hands together. In her shocked state, Rebecca barely even heard the next thing that her friend said.

"Looks like I’m going to Trotonto..."

Chapter 1: Initiation

A Long Journey

Chapter 1: Initiation

“Welcome to Trotonto. Visitors to the city, please remove all firearms, or fill out a weapon registration form. Knives and other non-mechanical weapons are permitted within the city limits, but only if they are less than one foot in length and are non-concealable. These weapons may be removed when you try to gain access to certain areas within the city. For example, Celesticorp headquarters permits no weapons of any kind to anyone without special authorisation. Please enjoy your stay in our fair city.” The pre-recorded voice intoned as Gilda stood in line.

The biker fought down the urge to pull a gun and shoot the PA right then and there. How many times were they gonna play that goddamn message? That voice! She wanted to find the woman who they recorded for that little reminder and just strangle that coolly pleasant bitch a little bit. What gave her the right to have a voice that was so fucking happy?

The line in front of Gilda edged forward slowly as the receptionist stamped a form and handed it back to someone. Frustration welled inside of her, as she realised it had taken the woman at the counter almost twenty minutes to process that one form. This was the longest line she’d had to wait in yet! How many different booths and departments did she have to get bounced to before someone realised that she was their problem? How fucking hard could it possibly be, to let one mercenary into your own fucking city, so she could literally give, that’s right goddamn *give***, you something that you were searching for in the first place?

The first thing Gilda had learned from Luna was patience. That horse didn’t always tell you why she wanted what she asked for, but she expected you to do it anyway. Guess she was used to being in command or something. Patience had been a hard lesson to learn. But over a period of five years and seemingly endless wild goose chases across the Deadlands she had learned that virtue, and the rewards had been well worth it. So, while patience wasn’t her strongest suite, Gilda liked to imagine she was pretty good at waiting for shit.

The intercom chimed again “Welcome to Trotonto, visitors to the city please-”

The voice died suddenly and the crack of a gun marked the moment it did. In Gilda’s hand rested a smoking .44 revolver.

Despite what others might tell you, the .44 was not exactly the best gun to bring into combat. Sure it was powerful, but that didn’t really matter as much as you might think it would. Put a bullet in the other guy and he’ll probably be dead, regardless of whether the slug you put in him was the size of your fist or not. There were two reasons why Gilda had fired the .44: Mainly because it was fairly expendable to her, and also because, holy shit, was it satisfying to put that goddamn PA out of commission with a hand cannon. Sadly, that was her last bullet with this particular gun. The rounds for it were pretty hard to come by.

Totally worth it.

Returning the now useless gun to its holster under her coat, she turned back to the line and noticed a fair few people were staring at her. That made sense. With her appearance, Gilda guessed she must have been quite the sight with a smoking gun.

No longer garbed in biker black, but worn brown leather, she looked quite different from the way she had five years ago. For one thing, she was taller. Before she was almost six foot, but now she was closer to six four. She was still bald, though she now had a brown rag wrapped around her head. Her eyes had changed from a muddy brown to a deep avian yellow. Back then she’d had fairly blunt, almost masculine features; now they had sharpened to be more birdlike. The rims around her eyes had deepened, and the pen ink tattoos she’d dotted beneath each eye had only emphasized that change. Beneath her jacket were various tattoos. No special patterns or pictures were visible in the ink; rather, they were simple single lines of black running across her torso, back and along each of her limbs. She probably looked like some bat-shit crazy tribal warrior to these people.

A long thin rope scar circled her neck, along with a string of fishing wire adorned with various seemingly random objects hanging off it. A rusty screw, a small green pebble, a red feather, what looked like a piece of an egg shell and a small horse shoe. Pinned to her clothes were various white feathers, a few on the chest, one at each elbow and her knees.

These were the fruits of her labour; part of her reward for serving Luna like she had. None of these objects seemed like much, but really they were a large part of the reason that Gilda was among the most dangerous people in all of Badworld. These simple objects were stitches. Using these, Luna had been able to transform Gilda from a fairly average human into something much more dangerous.

Pound per pound animals were almost always stronger than humans, and eagle lion things were no exception. Stronger bones, enhanced hearing and smell from the lion side. Powerful muscles and greater eye sight from the eagle side, and faster reactions from one or the other. Gilda wasn’t too sure which. These stitches allowed Luna to transform Gilda into a superhuman, and she loved it.

That was what the tattoos were mainly for. The ink had come from the first stitch Luna had made Gilda find: an old fashioned inkwell. The ink inside was what now decorated her skin. The tattoos over her body had allowed Luna to redirect magical energy from Equestria into Gilda, transforming her into what she was now. The other various stitches all had lesser uses but the main one was to feed more magical energy into Gilda.

The side effect of being a griffon-human hybrid was the dietary requirements were insane. But with the stitches, magic from Equestria was being converted into substitute nutritional energy that she could survive off. She still needed to eat, and probably ate a fair bit more than the average person, but her diet was normal enough for someone her size. Now she just had a strong preference for meat.

“Excuse me sir,” a blond security guard appeared at her side. “I’m going to have to ask you step out of line.”

Gilda looked down at him and smirked. “Sir...? Dude, I’m a chick.”

The officer seemed startled to hear such a feminine voice come from someone who looked like that. After a second he composed himself, “Ma’am, step out of the line please.”

Her gaze flickered to the radio strapped to the man’s breast, then to the 9mm resting in the holster at his hip. The holster’s strap was done up, the safety was off and, if Gilda had to guess, she’d say there was no round chambered. She turned her attention back to the queue and judged how many people stood in front of her. Her gaze turned to the security camera in the corner of the room and the two other similarly armed security guards by the door.

Planning is a simple thing really. It’s just figuring out what you want, what’s stopping you, how to get it and what will happen because of it. Even if she hadn’t planned on shooting the PA, she now had a plan because of it.

“Alright,” Gilda said as she stepped out of line and followed the man to the door.

Clara Adams was sitting at her computer when the radio at her desk gave a crackle of static. This wasn’t unusual. Even if she had no use for the radio, she was expected to keep one with her at all times. Nobody ever tried to contact her on the device, because the sort or people who used the short range radios were not the sort of people that Clara had much reason to talk to. Every now and then someone changed their radio to her channel by accident, and mistakenly held down the button, causing a static crackle.

This time however, she was surprised to hear a voice come over the channel. “I’m on this channel for any senior intelligence officer in Celesticorp headquarters. Over.”

Clara was startled at first, but once that wore off she picked the device up and held it to her lips. “Yes I’m here. Over.”

“Ma’am,” the voice on the other end paused. “We’ve got a situation at city entry you may want to take a look at. Over.”

The woman shook her head and held the radio to her lips. “I’m nowhere near the city gates. It’ll take me almost half an hour to get there from here. Over.”

“Ma’am, we don’t need you here to resolve it. We just need you to change to channel ninety four point nine, and speak with the woman who’s on the air. Over.”

Clara blinked. “Would you please explain the situation to me fully? Over.”

There was a pause before the man on the other end responded. “We have a crazy woman who’s holding three security personnel hostage. She’s threatening to shoot them if she doesn’t speak to a senior intelligence officer. Over.”

It took her a second to process this information before she answered. “Switching channels now. Out.” Changing to the new frequency, she spoke cautiously into the transmitter. “This is Clara Adams, senior intelligence officer. Over.” She released the button and waited for a response.

Half a second later a voice came over the other end. “It’s about fucking time.” In the background what sounded like pained moaning could be heard. “Listen, have you got- Shut the fuck up already!” The moaning in the background stopped. “It’s only an arm. Stick it in a cast for a few months and it’ll be like I never broke it. Fucking pussies...” The voice finished with a mutter. When the voice resumed it sounded clearer, like whoever held the transmitter was speaking into it directly. “Anyway, listen. Clara right? Have you got access to the security camera footage from the city gate?”

The officer answered hesitantly. “Yes. Over.”

“Good. Patch into it and see if you can find me.”

Very curious and fairly worried now, Clara turned her attention to her computer and brought up the requested footage. It wasn’t hard to find given that she had access to pretty much all of the city’s major systems. Finding it was a simple matter of checking to see which camera was currently getting the most attention from the people who handled security within the building. When she brought it up onscreen, Clara’s breath caught in her throat.

On the monitor, an image of a tall bald woman was visible. At her feet was a duffel bag. In one hand she held a radio, and in the other she held a gun, which was pointed at three men wearing security uniforms. The men were all lying on the ground in various states. One appeared unconscious, another was clutching a broken arm and the third looked fine but he was on his knees, his hands were plasti-cuffed together.

In her life Clara had been given a handful of big opportunities. The first had been almost seven years ago when she’d still been working with Theresa. She’d screwed that chance up badly. The second had come nearly a year later when a Celesticorp employee named Joe had been killed in a Deadland’s border town named Appleoosa. She’d been lucky and the culprit had got away. Due to that bit of fortune and Clara’s own hard work, the whole town was now in Celesticorp’s pocket, along with all the nearby communities and settlements. That was how she went from ‘intelligence officer’ to ‘senior intelligence officer’. Now here was her third big opportunity.

“Have you found me yet?” the voice on the radio asked.

“Yes.” Clara said feeling a little excited.

“Who am I?”

“You’re Gilda.”

The tall woman on the screen nodded at the camera. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m the bitch that’s been doing your job for the last five years.”

Gilda was the single largest bounty Luna Industries ever placed on an individual. For almost five years now, they had found themselves hampered and attacked at almost every turn by the mysterious woman. There was no apparent explanation or reasoning for it. One day the woman seemed to suddenly turn on the southern conglomerate. Over the course of half a decade, she’d waged a one woman war against Luna Industries.

She opposed them at every turn; stitch recovery operations, settlement takeovers, intelligence gathering work and anything that had Luna Industries’ name on it somewhere was targeted by her. Despite hiring some of the best and most dangerous mercenaries and bounty hunters in the entirety of Badworld, sending assault units and specialised field agents, and despite a bounty on her head that was no longer dead or alive at this stage, just dead, she was still causing trouble for them. Without any official support or backing, Gilda had done a better job combating Luna Industries’ influence in the Deadlands than any three Celesticorp employees combined.

The situation was bizarre. Clara herself had once done an intelligence report on Gilda, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening or how. Up until five years ago Gilda had been an unremarkable product of the deadlands. Grown up tough in one of the waste’s scattered communities. She’d joined a noteworthy biker gang, the infamous Bolts, and then had become an actual Wonderbolt. Then she disappeared off the radar the day the Wonderbolts did. Gone, with the only explanation provided being mishandled refined power cells. Except she re-emerged six months later and began to systematically shutdown Luna Industries’ operations with a downright uncanny knowledge of their plans and operating procedures. That was the truly bizarre part. Gilda seemed to have learned almost everything there was to know about Luna Industries overnight. She’d always been a step ahead of them during their repeated attempts to capture or kill her. It was like she knew what they were going to do before they did it.

Celesticorp had of course been interested in the situation, but ultimately decided not to get involved. If someone wanted to fight Luna Industries for them, then let them. But as time wore on, more and more of Celesticorp’s higher ups were itching to get their hands on Gilda and find out just how she knew so much. Other people suggested that they simply put her on the payroll, but Gilda’s high kill count and collateral damage ensured that that was never to be. No real consensus had been reached and so in the end Celesticorp had done nothing to help or hinder Gilda’s work. The northern power had made no attempts to hunt or track her down. That was why no one had noticed her walk through the front door to Trotonto.

This all however raised one very important question.

“What do you want?” Clara asked. “I’m sure that there are ways for us to settle this without the need for hostages.”

“Hostages…?” The woman on screen glanced back at the three unmoving security guards. “Oh right those guys. Nah, I’m not here to make demands or anything. I’m here to give you something.”

The intelligence officer blinked. “Give?”

The woman nodded. “”Yeah. Well no, not give to you, but I mean give to your boss. As in the C.E.O.”

“Then why did you attack our security personnel?”

Gilda shrugged onscreen. “I needed to get your attention somehow. Do you have any idea how hard it is to actually offer help to your damn company? I kept getting bounced over to different departments who all thought I was looking for a job. None of them even recognised me. You’d think my name would be on some priority arrest list you’ve got kicking about somewhere.”

Well that’s not something I ever expected to hear. Someone passive aggressively asking, ‘Why am I not on your arrest list?’

“Ok. So what is it you want to give us then?” Clara asked over the radio.

Gilda grinned and kicked the duffel bag at her feet. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But trust me, you’ll want these.”

“Welcome to Celesticorp’s Trotonto headquarters. Please remove all firearms and-”

“You know, you’re pretty much quoting the PA, right?” Gilda interrupted. “And that’s the thing that I shot...” She glared at him as she said it. “You know, just putting that out there.”

The man in front of the metal detector looked startled.

Enjoying the man’s fright, Gilda walked over to the tray where she was expected to disarm. Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly do so. She’d walked into enough apparently ‘friendly’ places that soon became a massive shit-fight for her to never feel fully comfortable taking her various armaments off. But in this case it was for a good cause. There was no way they were gonna let her talk to the C.E.O. with a gun in her pocket.

Several different security guards trained guns on her as she reached under her coat and took out the empty .44 revolver before dropping it onto the tray. It was soon joined by a copper plated 9mm semiautomatic, a trench knife (It had a badass barbed hilt guard), a .45 calibre semiautomatic, a switch knife (there was just something about the way those things flicked out), a larger .48 calibre, another knife (It was big, had a flat blade and a cool curve to it), and lastly a 9mm machine pistol with a forward grip and silencer.

Gilda turned to walk away from the table when she remembered the duffel bag. Zipping it open she withdrew a 7.62mm assault rifle with a wooden hand grip and stock, and a 12 gauge pump action shotgun. She was about to turn away again when she stopped. Taking out two frag grenades, a flash bang, a brick of plastic explosives and the detonator for said explosives, the biker turned away from the table on last time.

Duffel bag in hand, Gilda walked through the metal detector only for it to flash red and beep. “Oh, right,” she muttered as she reached under her coat with a sheepish grin. She withdrew a big forward curving knife (he was named Greg) from the sheath on the small of her back and tossed him to the table.

There’s just something about knives, you know? They were just so... shiny… and... pointy. What was not to love? Gilda wished she had more knives on the night that the Wonderbolt’s turned. She wondered if Soarin would be so pretty with Greg lodged in his forehead. How did she ever live with just one knife?

“That’s quite the selection you have.” Clara commented idly.

The biker snorted. “It’s not a selection as much as anything I could get my hands on. There’s not a lot of choice when you’re working alone in the Deadlands.”

Clara nodded as Gilda stepped into the metal detector again.

This time the device gave an all clear and the biker stepped forward to the next security officer waiting for her. The officer was holding what looked like an antenna in one hand, and the antenna was connected via a wire to a small box in his other hand. When she approached, he waved the antenna at her and examined the box in his hand. He looked surprised for some reason at whatever response the box gave.

He waved it again and shook his head, “I’m sorry but this one must be broken. I’ll just go get another one.”

“What’s it meant to do?” Gilda asked.

“Oh. Well it’s meant to detect any trace energy you may have on you.”

“So it’s a stitch detector?”

The man blinked. He was probably surprised that she knew what a stitch was. “Basically, yes.”

She continued, “And it just lit up like fucking fireworks?”

He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, it’s not broken.”

He gave her an odd look.

“Listen buddy, I could strip down naked and that thing would still be lighting up for me.”

He seemed like he was about to press the issue when Clara interrupted him. “What do your stitches do?”

“What do any stitches do? Come on, it’s not like I can use them for a weapon.” In truth Gilda would just be really freaking hungry without her stitches. In the long term she needed them for survival, but she could go a day without them.

Clara raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do what stitches can do.”

“Yeah,” Gilda nodded. “And swear I ain’t got any of those ones.”

Clara stared at Gilda for a second before sighing and turning to the security guard. “Are any of them activate-able?”

He checked the readout on his screen. “According to this no, they’re all passive.”

Clara hesitantly said “Alright, then let her through.”

The man glanced at his superior before nodding and backing away, allowing Gilda, Clara and six security guards to step into the lobby’s main elevator. The ride up was silent and boring with the only sound being the dull elevator music and the occasional shuffling of feet. That was cool, Gilda could handle boring. It was the irritating shit that got to her. Clara kept glancing at her though, and it was weird too because she had this hungry look in her eyes. Actually it was less hungry and more greedy. Like she was looking at Gilda like a paycheck or something.

The boredom was enough that Gilda decided to comment. “Are you hitting on me or what?”

The woman’s face was priceless. It was a perfect mix of shock, horror and embarrassment.

“I know I’m hot and all but bitch please, restrain yourself.” It was said in the most sarcastic voice the biker could manage. A couple of the guards chuckled at the joke.

The rest of the elevator ride was uneventful. Eventually they arrived at the top floor, and they all moved into another room. Behind the desk were two bored looking receptionists. The whole room was very plain, all dull white colours and blandlooking furniture. About the brightest bit of colour in the room was the small aloe vera plant resting in a pot between the two receptionists. They looked so alike that Gilda guessed they must be twins.

One of them held down a button on her desk and said into the intercom, “Agent Adams is here.”

A rich female voice came over the other end of the line. “Send them in.”

The bald woman was led into the next room, which was a small and tastefully decorated office. It seemed to be set up for practicality more than anything else, but there were enough colours and signs of being lived in that the whole placed seemed pleasant enough.

Sitting behind the desk was a lone woman. To say she had a regal bearing would be an understatement. She looked impressive even sitting down. She looked young despite having long iron grey hair. No, maybe not young, more like she was youthful despite her age. Strong, vibrant and healthy. And powerful. Everything about the woman radiated power and influence.

As the group walked in the woman looked up and said, “You broke my nephew’s arm.”

Gilda shrugged and said, “He tried to pull a gun on me. What? Was I supposed to just let him shoot me?”

The woman didn’t answer, rather she only maintained her coolly intense gaze. As if she were evaluating every last thing about the bald woman.

Is this really Celestia? Is this really the immortal sun god of Equestria?

“So what do I call you anyway?” Gilda asked as she sat down in a chair.

Rather than answer, the lady behind the desk reached into a drawer and pulled out a file. “This is everything we know about you.” The file was pretty thick and made a respectable thunk when it landed on the desk. “It’s almost one hundred pages. We have everything, from your birth to you joining the Wonderbolts, what you did while you worked for them, and everything we know about the night you left them. After that we have nothing. Then six months later you reappear and we have everything again. Almost anything you’ve done in the past five years is recorded here.

“We have psychological profiling, tactics examinations and a twelve page breakdown of why you may or may not have enhanced capabilities and where you may have gained such abilities.” She paused and examined the folder again. “And still despite an almost complete record of everything there is to know about you, we still know almost nothing.”

Gilda leaned forward and held out a hand. “Can I have a look?”

A nod was given and she took the thick folder. She opened it to the first page and examined the basic profile they had set up on her. After a minute she dropped it on the table and leaned back in her chair.

“The first page is wrong. The picture you’ve got is outdated, I’ve got tats now,” she indicated the black dots beneath each eye. “Also I’m taller. I was six foot then, now I’m more six foot four.”

The C.E.O. examined Gilda again. She turned to the other people in the room and told them, “Leave us.” Clara looked ready to object but was cut off. “That includes you, Clara.” After everyone had left the room, the woman turned her attention back to Gilda. “The next question is what question to ask first.”

“How about you don’t ask any questions and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” The biker smirked at her own pun.

“Indeed,” The woman paused. “So tell me, what ‘gift’ have you brought me?”

“Three letters from a unicorn named Twilight Sparkle to the immortal alicorn Princess Celestia of Equestria about the magic of friendship and what it means to be a good pony.” She smirked again. “I never thought I could say that with a straight face.”

The woman behind the table pretended to be confused. “Are you making a joke?”

“Nope.” Gilda zipped open her bag and took out three scrolls and set them on the table. “There were like, hundreds of them, but the Moonies got those. I would have snagged more, but Patchman showed up with two attack choppers. I barely got these ones out.”

The woman at the table examined them. “These are stitches I take it?”

“Yep, big ones. Dragon fire and everything.”

“As curious as stitches are, and as useful as these might be for projected energy research, why do you believe I want them so badly as to come to Trotonto and deliver them by hand?”

Gilda snorted. “Bitch please, don’t play dumb. I know about the machines you’re trying to build and what you need to make them work. You need these if you want them to work and you need a few other things as well. I also know that you want to build six of them, but you’re just gonna have to make do with three.”

The woman stared at her for a second. “How do you know about that?”

“Your sister told me.”

She blinked. “I don’t have a sister.”

Gilda smirked. “Not that you know of. The bitch is in my dreams every night,” she paused for a second. “And I wish that was a sex joke.”

The woman at the table seemed more confused than before. “And what else has my ‘sister’ told you?”

The biker shrugged. “That you’ll need the Elements of Harmony as well as their Bearers. I don’t know about the Elements, but I can get you one of the bearers.”

The elder woman paused, considering Gilda’s offer. “So tell me then. Why would you do any of this for us?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But don’t worry. I’m working towards a larger goal, one that we share even if you don’t know it.”

The woman at the table seemed to consider her words very carefully. “Then tell me, what are our goals?”

Gilda laughed. “To make the world a better place.” She held out her arms and leaned back. “I know right? Looking at me you’d never believe it.”

The woman at the table sat back and crossed her arms. The look on her face portrayed a lack of trust.

“You can have these.” Gilda indicated the scrolls on the table. “But, if you want my help, and you do want my help, you need to do one thing for me that you’ll want to do anyway.”

“And what’s that?”

She paused. “Somewhere, out there, there’s a kid named Spike. We need him. You find him and bring him here. After that, we do what you wanted to do anyway. We get the Elements and the bearers, and we do with them what you wanted to do in the first place.” Gilda turned to look at the other woman. “I don’t know how much you know, I don’t really know how much I know, but I know what you want and how to help you get it.”

The woman at the table tilted her head to the side. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know how much I know either? I know that I’m building the machines and that I want to, but I don’t know why or what they’ll do once completed.”

Gilda smiled. “So, are we gonna work together on this?”

The woman at the table leaned back and observed her for a minute. “Very well then.”

The biker smiled and held out her hand for a shake, “and what do I call you?”

The woman smiled sadly. “I’m not sure I know that either. For now C.E.O. will do.”

They both sat back into their chairs and said nothing for a moment.

It was Gilda who broke the silence. “Alright here’s what I need. Don’t worry it’s not hard.” She reached to the string around her neck and took away the piece of eggshell. “You set up satellites and listening posts wherever you can and have them checking all over the wasteland for any stitches. We charge this,” she placed the egg shell on the table, “with as much energy as you can manage. When we do that, the kid we’re after should pop on your radar as about the biggest goddamn stitch in existence. We grab him from wherever he is and bring him to Trotonto. It’s that simple.”

The lady with grey hair raised an eyebrow, “That’s not a simple plan. That would require strike teams with long distance capabilities set up in every city and settlement between here and Manehattan. Speaking of Manehattan, what if we detect him there or in Fillydelphia? There’s no way we’ll be able to have a properly prepared unit close enough to capture him before Luna Industries’ own teams move into striking distance.”

“OK, so it may not be that simple, but it’s still what you need to do. Believe me when I say that our goals match up.”

The elder woman nodded. “We’ll see. First though I’d like to discuss this “sister” of mine that’s apparently giving you orders.”

Gilda smiled. “Believe me when I say that’s one thing you and I are never going to discuss.”

The woman looked unamused.

The biker continued. “So… Tia,” she smirked, “do we have a deal?”

The moment the biker said Tia, there was the slightest dilation of the women’s pupils. To someone of normal perception it wouldn’t mean anything, but Gilda knew what it was. A keyword, a subconscious command buried in the C.E.O.’s memory. She had no idea how it got there but the important thing was it would make her agree with Gilda.

The lady nodded after a while. “Very well then.”

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck fuck fuuuuuu…” Gilda cursed as she slowly dragged the bent shrapnel out of her leg. With a final bit of effort the piece came loose. Tossing the bloody metal away, she began to move her leg around, testing to see if it was all still working. Everything seemed fine. Now that she was no longer pulling things out if it, the wound didn’t actually hurt that much. Gingerly touching it with her finger, she idly noted how deep it was. Yet another benefit of being stitched up: Way higher pain tolerance.

Contrary to popular belief, close range fire fights (particularly indoors) were not complicated things. It essentially always boils down to who’s faster and can hit the other guy first. This simple process can be complicated by automatic weapons, body armour and explosives. Or in this case: a crazy ass mother fucker with all three. Oh, and Gilda hadn’t had a gun. That had made things fun.

Partly to put off what she was about to do next (and partly because she had to do it anyway) Gilda raised her finger to her earpiece and said, “Cadance, it’s all clear.”

A second later she heard the response. “You called me Cadance again.”

Inwardly Gilda cursed.

“Whatever Clara. Moon men are dead so just get here already.”

There was a pause. “Roger that, we’re coming in.”

Gilda sighed and sat back into the deck chair. After putting it off for another minute, she took off her backpack and took out some salt, fishing wire and a needle. Sure she would've used Celesticorp’s own medical equipment, but she couldn’t trust them not to spike the antiseptic with nanobots or something. With a hiss of pain she began rubbing the salt into the wound.

“Ma’am?”

She glanced up at the speaker. He was one of Celesticorp’s little cronies that they sent her in with to clear out the Luna guys. He had the look of a professional with enough years of combat under his belt that you might want to think twice about taking him on. The other guys in the Celesticorp strike team all looked just like him. It was actually a little uncanny how similar they all appeared.

“I’m not with Celesticorp. Don’t call me Ma’am,” Gilda muttered as she threaded the fishing wire through the needle.

“We have a medic with proper equipment who can do that for you.” He said it like it was an offer.

“No thanks.” She began to sew the deep cut together.

He watched in silence for a second. “What happened to your gun?”

“It took a chunk of shrapnel when that last fucker was getting crazy with the hand grenades,” She muttered as she slowly drew the wound shut.

The man stood there, watching for a second, until he shrugged and turned away to help another person clear the bodies from the roof top. It hadn’t been a particularly bad fight. Fifteen Celesticorp guys, plus Gilda, sent in to clear out Luna Industries’ presence from the desolate ruins of Canterlot. The plan had more or less worked, but the final ten Moonies had put up a bit of a fight. Somehow they got alerted and managed to set up a good defence in the tight confines of the building’s upper floors. Now there were just six of the original strike team plus Gilda alive to remember the battle.

Now that the Moonies were gone, Cadance and the rest of the intelligence dweebs would come in to set up their equipment. The chances were that Spike would be in or near the ruins of Canterlot. The C.E.O. had wanted to be certain there were no Moonies in the area; she did not want Luna Industries getting their hands on him.

With her bit of sewing done, Gilda stood up and tested her leg. It was fine, there would be no limping. That done, she strolled over to one of the corpses. Even though she now had official backing and proper equipment provided to her, Gilda still had a strong scavenger’s instinct. Bending over, she began to strip the body of its weapons and equipment. Nothing special, just some ammo for her 9mm, a frag grenade and a new assault rifle that would temporarily replace the one she lost in the fight.

With her new gun slung around her shoulder by the strap, she dragged the corpse over to the side of the roof and tossed it down. She watched it fall almost ten stories before it landed with a wet crack.

Gilda felt an otherworldly satisfaction looking down at the bloody mess on the pavements below. Now that she thought about it, she kinda liked the sight of blood and corpses now. Not in a creepy get off on it way, but like... It just seemed satisfying. Maybe that was a side effect of the being made a griffon hybrid or something. She never used to like killing (well actually, killing was always kind of fun) but now she couldn’t deny a slight rush when she took someone down. That should have been scary, but for some reason it didn’t worry Gilda all that much. Maybe the griffon thing also explained why she liked knives so much now too?

She turned around and began helping the other guys move all the corpses off the roof. The Celesticorp bodies were moved to the side to be carried back to Trotonto for a proper burial.

With their makeshift helipad clear, the guys stood to the side and waited for the chopper with the smart people to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, the thump-thump-thump of a big two rotor transport was audible.

After it landed, and Gilda had to admit she was impressed that pilot could land such a big bird on such a small pad, the men immediately began unpacking. Soon it was completely empty and Clara stepped out.

“Gilda,” Clara didn’t offer her any kind of nod or rank. “What were the casualties?”

“All the Moonies are dead, and we lost nine guys. No wounded and no prisoners.”

Well, technically I’m wounded but whatever.

“Is everyone accounted for?” The bitch asked like she didn’t know.

“Yeah,” Gilda answered.

They stood together as all the different people set about their work. It wasn’t long before numerous camp stools and collapsible chairs were set up across the roof. A tarp roof was erected, and underneath it several laptops were set up. A portable satellite dish and several radio stations rested on the table next to the laptops. All in all, it had taken them about half an hour to set up this portable communications centre.

“I still don’t think the C.E.O. should have agreed to this,” Clara muttered.

“Believe me, Celestia needs the kid just as much as I do,” was the taller woman’s tired response.

“You did it again.”

“…Did what?”

“You called her Celestia." The officer paused. “Why do you keep calling me Cadence or the C.E.O. Celestia?”

Because that’s what the horse I talk to in my dreams at night always calls you.

Gilda shrugged. “No reason.”

“You called the C.E.O.’s nephew Blueblood.”

“Yeah,” Gilda chuckled at the memory. “The guy almost pissed himself when he realised I was talking to him.”

Cadence -No Clara- Clara merely shook her head with disdain. “They’re done setting up. Come on.”

Together, they stood under the temporary shelter and waited for the signal from Trotonto. With their listening post set up and the chopper ready, it was just a matter of waiting for the kids signal and then going to pick him up.

“OK they’re doing it,” one of the techies said.

At that time, almost a thousand miles away, the tiny piece of dragon egg-shell that she had given Celestia was being charged with enough stitch energy to put Gilda to shame. At least it would be, assuming Celesticorp actually planned on holding up its end of the bargain. All the calculations they’d done had said that Spike would most likely be in or near the ruins of Canterlot. Luna wanted Gilda to help Celesticorp, but that didn’t change the fact that the biker didn’t trust them.

“OK… nothing… yeah, we’re picking up nothing. He’s not here.”

“Not here?” Gilda asked sounding angry. She’d killed damn near thirty guys today to make sure they could pick that kid up safely. “Then where the fuck is he?”

Clara bent over the laptop and examined it for a second. “One of the satellites has found him… south of here.”

OK, that was bad. If he was south of Canterlot, that meant he was in the southern half of the Deadlands, or worse, even outside of the Deadlands. Anywhere north was Celesticorp turf, but south was Luna Industries.

“Where south?” Gilda asked.

Clara stood up and looked at Gilda directly. “Fillydelphia.”

“… Of fucking course!’ she shouted out. “That’s so fucking typical! That could only be worse if it was goddamn Manehattan!” She was quiet for a moment as she tried to calm herself down. “Well… what the fuck are we gonna do about it?!”

Clara was silent for a moment as she tapped away at her keyboard. “We have assets on the ground in Filly; we can still get to him before Luna Industries does-”

“Yeah, you bloody well better, or else we’re utterly fucked,” Gilda interrupted angrily. “What kind of assets?”

Another technician answered. “We have a proxy in place with seven vials of nanites along with an accompanying satelite drop.”

Gilda gave Clara an ‘are you a fucking retard?’ look. “That’s shit! One proxy! What have they got, three guys to their name? Who’s your proxy?”

“William Iron,” answered Clara.

“Who’s that?”

“He runs a large hunting ring in the Fillydelphia region. He has a few notable hunters working for him,” Clara answered while distractedly typing at a terminal. “Best of all he cooperates. According to this, just last week he helped set up an op to turn over one of his own bounty hunters.”

“How’d that turn out?”

Clara grimaced as she examined the information on screen. “An un-successful op. The target apparently didn’t trace it back to William, but we lost three agents and lost track of a nanite asset.”

“Huh. Sounds like a shit proxy to me if he fucked that up. Who was the target?”

“I don’t know...” Clara mumbled sounding occupied. She checked something on her screen. “Err... someone named Jacqueline Smith.”

“Never heard of ‘em.” Gilda shook her head.

“She’s better known as Jack.”

A look of realisation dawned on Gilda’s face. ”Wait, Jack? Tall girl, blond hair and dumb hat?”

Clara paused. “That matches her profile.”

Gilda chuckled feeling relieved. “Not surprised that your plan didn’t work then.”

“Why?” Clara asked turning around.

“Because that bitch is badass.” She pointed to her throat. “She gave me this.” Clara glanced over to see a scar circling Gilda’s neck. “Lost count of how many dumb-shit bounty hunters I’ve killed. I’m not just talking about small time randoms either. Had people like Lulamoon and Gustav coming after me. None of them ever got as close as Jack did. Had to cross the whole freaking Deadlands before I got her off my tail.”

Clara blinked in surprise. “As impressive as that is, how is it relevant?”

“It’s relevant cause she’s perfect. Get your guy William to stick her with a vial of nanites and boom, we’ve got ourselves a great start to our get-Samuel-and-get-him-out-of-Filly party.”

“Maybe,” Clara answered cryptically. “We need to contact Iron first, and then we can discuss this.”

Gilda recognised when she was being told to shut up and wait in the corner. She clenched her jaw. Whatever, there was shit she had to take care of anyway. “Whatever, I gotta take a leak anyway.”

Clara waved a hand at her absently while she busily worked the computer.

Stepping away from the group, Gilda made her way back into the building. The dimly lit fire escape was easy to navigate. She noticed a few blood stains from the earlier firefight, but those disappeared as she went lower into the building. After she’d walked about twelve floors down she took a right and made her way into the office complex. She lay down in the middle of the floor before closing her eyes. This was another one of those things Luna had taught her. How to sleep anywhere. Gilda grinned; Rebecca was so much better than she was at this. Seriously, Gilda swore to this day that once upon a time, Rebecca had fallen asleep while standing up.

God, she wished Rebecca was here. No, no. Things were better this way. No way in hell was Gilda going to let Rebecca get caught up in any of this crap until it became absolutely necessary. Come on brain, shut up. She needed to talk to Luna.

With a little time, her heart rate lowered and her breath evened.

Gilda found herself in the familiar black stone platform that represented the dream world. And as always Luna was there waiting.

“Does it go well?” she asked. “I assume you have something you think I should be informed on.”

“Yeah,” Gilda nodded. “We cleared out the Moonies, but when we charged the shell the kid wasn’t in Canterlot. Turns out he’s in Fillydelphia.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “That is unacceptable. He cannot be allowed to fall into Luna Industries’ hooves.”

Gilda nodded. “Cadance says we can salvage it, but I don’t trust her. She’s got a proxy in Filly, and a few good mercs and one great one under him, but still. It’s a shit storm and we need a lot of luck.”

Luna pursed her lips. “Luck? Even in this world without magic, destiny still has a hand to play…” She paused. “Return to Cadance. I’ll see if I can do something to help.”

“Alright,” Gilda said. “But we’re gonna need a miracle to get to Spike before the Moonies do.”

Luna closed her eyes and appeared to be meditating. “A miracle or a fool?”

Getting the impression the comment wasn’t meant for her, Gilda shrugged and stepped off the platform.

Gilda opened her eyes and dusted her jacket off as she sat up.

Simon rubbed his fingers across the paper ball in his hand carefully as he gazed at the dustbin across the room. His mind was focused, concentrated. This was it. The single most important thing in the world. No rushing it, take all the time you need.

Sean watched with baited breath, his t-shirt that read ‘snip-snip’ marked with an image of scissors and stained with his own nervous sweat. “Come on Simon,” he whined. “Take the shot.”

A notepad lay next to him on his desk, the score marked in blue pen exactly even.

“Sshhh…” Simon murmured in response. The small fan between him and the dust bin altered the room’s air currents as it waved left and right. Simon waited. Waiting for the perfect moment to throw. He felt the tiniest bit of air tickle his brown hair, and he tossed the ball forward.

Time slowed to a crawl as the ball arced through the air. Sean’s eyes widened as he fearfully watched the wad of paper fly along its intended trajectory. Simon’s grin widened as the ball slowly, perfectly arced to the dust bin. He felt manic glee. This was it! This was it! There’s no way it could-

Bounce off the rim of the dust bin and land next to it.

Sean cheered and fell back into his seat, the office chair spinning to match his joy.

Simon could only curse his bad luck and ram a palm into his face.

“I win!” Sean cheered. “H-O-R-S-E my friend. You, are, a, horse!

The emotion only lasted a few moments before both parties returned to complete boredom. God, office days were boring. Manehattan may have been the last bastion of civilisation in the Badworld, but was civilisation really all that it was cracked up to be if it meant office hours and paperwork?

Simon leaned back into his chair and sighed. Great, one hour down, just the rest of the day to go. The room was a small cramped affair, with most of its space taken up by their computers and the desks which they rested on. Pit stains had formed under the arms of Simon’s cartoon snail t-shirt due to the lack of air conditioning. A single rotating fan was a poor substitute. Good god was he bored.

Being a techie, he’d been condemned to spend his working career inside and achieving little all day, but still. Surely there was some job that Lunar Industries needed doing more than monitoring for stitches in Fillydelphia. The sound of snoring attracted Simon’s attention to its source: Sean leaning back in his chair and dribbling onto his snail-adorned tie.

No stitches ever appeared in Filly. That was a fact. That city was a teaming cesspit of nothing worthwhile. Close enough to Manehattan to scavenge off the wealthier city’s dregs, but too far for anyone inside to care. Luna Industries had made no effort to tame Filly’s violent drug and weapon-rife streets. Criminals and gangsters of all sort shacked up the city and called it their home. The fact was there was nothing there that the moon men wanted, so there was no reason to step in and fix the place up. As far as Simon could tell, there was no reason at all to keep an eye on the place. The biggest stitch they’d ever gotten from there was a rusty screw that had less energy in it than a double A battery.

No, it was the monitoring stations that kept an eye on the Deadlands that had fifty guys, working all hours to keep an eye on and prioritise all energy reading that came in. Recovery teams fully equipped and ready around the clock to go out and fight Celesticorp for control of the items. He’d heard something about troubles in Canterlot this morning, but he was hurriedly pushed out of the room before he could learn anything.

With a tired sigh, Simon rubbed his eyes and returned his attention to the monitor. Yep, just like five minutes ago there was a massive spike in the energy readings that went off the charts and-

Wait, what?!

“Holy fuck!” Simon shouted as he stared at the monitor in shock. With a click of his mouse, he highlighted the section of the graph that was spiking and brought up more details. There was more stitch energy here than… ever. Simon had never heard of a find this big, let alone in the middle of Filly. It had been picked up by one of their listening posts.

No, it had to be a glitch. There was no way that this was genuine. Simon rebooted the page to make certain, but nope, the reading remained the same. Still unconvinced, he checked the listening post uplink that was sending this info in. Nope, that appeared fine too.

Frowning, Simon tapped into a satellite feed from Filly to take a look at the area that the Stitch was apparently originating from. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened.

On the screen in front of him, a large circle of green grass was radiating outwards from… a vaguely person-shaped black mass in the middle of a street. That couldn’t be grass. That was rare enough in Badworld, let alone in the middle of Filly. But nope. Everything he saw told him that this stitch was creating a grassy field in the middle of the city.

What the hell.

Simon’s hand reached for his phone. It was time to call this one in, and dispatch a recovery team immediately. He went to press line one when another hand batted the phone from his grip.

Simon looked over Sean in shock. “What the hell are you-”

“Shhh...” Sean silenced him. “Think about this,” Sean’ said slowly. “Think about our recovery team.”

Simon blinked and paused for thought.

“Nothing eve happens in Filly. Our team is four old drunks who washed out from Canterlot. Can they really handle something like this? If they fuck up then they pass the blame to us. Even if they can take care of it do they deserve the credit?

“But we, on the other hand, have been in this office for years. If we were to take care of this ourselves, and bring in a nice gigantic stitch, we might get promoted.” He waved a hand at the office around him for emphasis. “Get out of here.”

Simon nodded slowly. “Yeah…” Then he paused and thought about it. “Alright, so how do we uh… bring it in without sending this to them?” he asked unsurely. “I’m not going to Filly,” he added hurriedly.

Sean paused for thought with a frown on his face. “We go to the bounty hunters,” he offered with a smile. “I’m authorised to make payments up to a million dollars, right?”

Simon nodded. “Alright, so uh… how we do that?”

Sean rolled over to his computer and went online. “Uh… I think we just post up a public bounty and someone will bring it in.”

Simon nodded, thinking ahead. “Alright, we just need to know what they have to bring in,” he turned back to his screen. “We just need to know what the stitch is and we’re in business. Huh, apparently the stitch is… a kid? Huh. Never heard of a living Stitch before.”

Sean smiled. “Man, you’re lucky I stopped you. There’s no way this can go wrong!”

Jack’s phone beeped in her pocked and she brought it out. Flipping it open, she checked to see what the alert was. It was set to inform her every time someone set a bounty larger than fifty grand online. Jack paused for long enough to see what the warrant was.

One million dollars? She must have misread that, so she used her hand to shield the screen from the sun’s glare. No, she’d read that right. Eyebrows drawing together, Jack took the time to carefully read the rest of the deal. She snorted with laughter at what she saw.

Who the in heck was dumb enough to publicly post a million dollar bounty, on a child, in the middle of Fillydelphia? Holy hell, she almost wished she could be there to see it. Every desperate and crazy hopeful in that city would be taking a shot. The whole place was gonna turn into a warzone! Did they honestly expect that they’d get the kid alive with that? He stood a butterfly’s chance in hell of not being killed in crossfire. Jack almost felt sorry for the poor guy.

With a shake of her head, she returned her phone to her pocket and continued her walk uphill. No bounty hunter worth his salt was gonna take that one seriously. The kid would be dead by the time anyone got there, not to mention the utterly ridiculous amount of competition they’d face. Nuh, leave this one for the dumbass waste gangs and vultures of the city.

Her trek uphill brought her to the dilapidated ruins of some outer city mansion. To think that Filly had once been a nice place, and ruins like this dotted the city’s outer limits. The guard standing at the gate greeted Jack with a cool nod.

“Jack,” he said, his goatee bobbing up and down with his chin. “Mr. Iron said you’d be coming.”

She nodded in response. “Yeah, Ah know. He’s the one that called me.” Which was convenient, since she’d been meaning to talk with him for a while anyway. She waved a hand at the gate. “You gonna let me in?”

“You know you gotta disarm first,” he responded, pointing his gun barrel at a plastic tub next to him.

Jack oh-so graciously withdrew the revolver from the holster under her duster and dropped it into the tub. “Alright, get the gate.”

“Not till you disarm,” he repeated. “Your ammo included.”

With an irritated sigh, she undid the belt around her waist and dropped her bullets in to the tub with the revolver.

“And your hatchets.” He was a bit too familiar with her armoury by this stage for Jack’s comfort. Funny that he knew her so well and she didn’t even know his name.

Jack reached under her duster once more and took out her two small hand axes that she dropped into the tub.

“Now your bowie.”

Jack just looked at him and raised her eyebrow.

“I’m serious. Get that knife out of your boot.”

“William scared of me today or something?” she asked as she bent over for her knife.

“Who isn’t?” the man asked with a light smile. When she didn’t return it, he continued. “Jack, don’t pretend this isn’t the usual fair. You want to see the boss, you disarm.” Once the knife was in the tub he turned and buzzed the gate.

No one ever remembers the rope, she thought as she ran a thumb along the familiar coils under her coat.

She walked up the cracked and ruined driveway until she arrived at the door, which was opened for her by another guard with a goatee.

Inside, she saw cracked and ruined marble with matching tiling. As she walked up the stone stairs, she made note of the ruined statue leaning out over the railing. It looked like it was close to tipping. Jack was let into William’s office by the two guards that stood outside it.

He was in the middle of a video conference or something when she entered, because he was talking into a computer screen.

“- ra I understand. The kid will be unharmed. I’ll take my usual fee, plus extra for the nanite assets.” He glanced up at Jack. “Speaking of which, I got business to take care of. I’ll be back in a second.” He got up out of the seat and walked over towards Jack.

He was an utterly huge man. Tall enough to dwarf Jack by a fair margin (and she was not short by any stretch of the imagination), and thick enough in the shoulders to be plenty intimidating. His arms were thicker than most men’s thighs and Jack could practically smell the fake hormones in the sweat oozing from his pores. His over-large neck muscles were a dead giveaway to the sheer amount of steroids this man had to be taking to maintain this size. An unzipped sleeveless denim jacket covered his torso, and a comically out of place tie rested against his chest. His hands were ludicrously small in comparison to his meaty forearms.

“Bill,” Jack greeted with a tip of her hat and a lazy smile.

“Jack,” he leaned forward to shake her hand, but when she didn’t take it he shrugged and headed over to his liquor cabinet. Out of it, he dug up a bottle of scotch and poured two glasses.

Jack dropped her smile and noted this very carefully. Never once had he ever offered her a drink before. She also noticed the little web camera on top of his computer swivel around to look at her. She gave her smile again as he turned around to face her, and she took the glass from his hand.

“Let’s talk business,” he said to her.

“Ah’d rather talk some old business first,” she responded to him.

“She’s gonna kill him,” Gilda warned as she watched the exchange on the screen from over Clara’s shoulder.

“How would you know that?” Clara asked with a tired sigh.

“She’s got that killey face going. Believe me, she plans on killing him. I know the ‘I’m gonna end you look’ when I see it.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

“Old Business?” William asked cautiously. “What sort of old business?”

“William, you know what a proxy does, right?” She asked as she took a seat at his desk and put her feet up. “A proxy is a middle man between a bounty hunter and the corporations that’s setting the bounty. Ah mean that’s just good business sense, right? Celesticorp’s got somethin’ like thirty thousand riding on mah head, and they corner about two fifths of the market, so damn near half the business Ah do is through you, right?”

William walked back around to his side of his desk. Jack noted that way when he sat down one hand stayed under his desk. Undoubtedly his fingers were curling around a gun.

“Ah mean, Ah can’t go deal with ‘em directly. They’d just take me as well as the guy I’m handing in. So Ah catch ‘em, take ‘em to you, and you hand ‘em in for me. Then you take your share of the cut off the top. Simple right?”

“Jack, I know how this works-”

“Do ya? Ah’m not convinced you do. Guess who Ah ran into on my last job? The one that you set me on by the way.”

He didn’t answer, but Jack was glad to see his hand stay under the table.

“Our old friend Lulamoon. Which is funny, cause Ah seem to recall handing her over to you, to hand over to them.” Jack noticed him blink in surprise. She smiled. “Ah mean, what happened? You paid me my cut, then what? Let her go?” The way he breathed a small sigh of relief confirmed Jack’s suspicions.

Clara snorted. “She’s not too bright, is she?”

“You’re a fucking moron, Cadance,” Gilda answered. “She’s gonna kill him. She’s just getting him to let his guard down.”

William smiled and took his hand out from under the desk. “She must have escaped from Celesticorp or something,” he answered with a shrug. “If they want her caught again, I’ll let you know.”

Jack smiled. “How about the three Celesticorp agents that were with her?”

“Maybe they turned her into a nanite asset?” he responded with a casual shrug. “How did that mission go, by the way? You never got back to me on that one.”

“Well, other than having to kill three corporates, which Ah imagine brought my bounty up again, and seeing Lullamoon, not well at all. Ah couldn’t find a trace of the kid you sent me after.” Jack shook her head. “It was almost like he didn’t exist.”

William shrugged. “Well, you win some, you lose some.”

“Oh!” Jack tapped herself on the forehead. “Afore Ah forget again, one of ‘em had this on ‘em,” she reached under her duster and took an envelope which she leaned forward and placed down on the desk.

William frowned and reached forward to grab it.

Jack’s rope slipped over his wrist and her palm smashed into his nose. He screamed in pain and pulled back, only for Jack to dive across the desk and swing around behind him. Her rope dug into his neck as she coiled it around it. She slipped the other end of her rope down in time to catch the hand that was reaching for the gun under his desk. With all her might, she pulled the rope and got both hands behind his back.

He was a very strong man, and he tried to pull his way free of Jack, but she was behind him with the advantage of leverage and no weakling herself, so his struggles were in vain. She quickly tied it up so he couldn’t free the hands behind his back, and the rope around his neck only dug in more when he struggled. She grabbed the gun from under his desk, a .48 calibre, and stood up, pulling William up in front of her. Now to wait for the two guards outside his door to come in, alerted by his screaming. Sure enough, the door opened and they both hesitated to fire when they saw her hiding behind their boss. She killed the two of them with a shot to the heart each.

“Totally called it,” Gilda said.

Clara turned to her. “You do realise that he’s the only asset we have on the ground in Filly?! Without him, we have no chance of getting Samue!”

Now, she pushed him in front of her, and he stumbled forward and fell over on top of his desk. “Bill, we had the simplest arrangement imaginable,” she said into his ear as she took the rope and reworked the knot around his hands. “We- Ow!” she interrupted herself as something on one of his sleeves pricked her. A little sharp pin thing sticking out of one of his sleeves. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

He tried to gasp something out, but she didn’t hear what he was saying. With a little work, she stood him up and moved him around the desk and looped one end of the rope over the rafter near the door.

“Back in mah old home town, we had some pretty simple rules about attempted murder. Oh, and Ah do count selling me to Celesticorp as murder by the way,” she left him there as she grabbed the end of the rope that was hanging down. She turned and kicked his knee cap with her steel-toed boots hard enough to damage it, and stop him walking away.

He screamed in pain.

“In fact, Ah count a lifetime of slavery as a nanite asset as somewhat worse than death, don’t ya think?” She tied the end of the rope around the statue that was leaning out over the railing.

“Jack!” he screamed, but she ignored him.

“So, what was Ah saying about murderers? Oh yeah, what we do with ‘em where Ah come from.” She knelt down at the base of the statue.

She grunted as she heaved, and the top of the statue only just overbalanced enough to tip it over the railing. The statue only fell about halfway to the ground floor before it jerked to a stop with a wet crack. Jack turned around and saw William’s corpse hanging from the ceiling, just in front of the door.

She walked back into his office and cringed at the horrifying angle his neck was bent against the rafter with. “Ugh.” She glanced over at the rope leaning over the other edge, holding up the heavy marble statue. “Too much weight on the other end.”

She raised what was formerly William’s gun and aimed it down at the main door as it opened, revealing the guard from the driveway. Her gunshot damn near popped his head, ripping a massive gaping chunk out of his skull. Now there was just one guard left. If he had any brains, he’d try another entry, or just leave. If Jack was him, she’d go round-

Jack fell to the ground and clutched her heart as she felt it burn with pain, its beating slowing. Her heart rate returned to normal after almost a minute, and she gasped in a ragged breath. Slowly, she backed further into the room and out of sight of the main hallway.

“What the hell was that?” she murmured.

“Holy shit!” Gilda smiled. “He got her!” she pointed at the screen as Jack convulsed. “Somehow William got the nanites in her.”

Clara sighed. “Oh, thank goodness for small favours.”

“Get out of the way,” Gilda said as she shoved Clara sprawling out of her chair, forgetting her own strength for a second.

“I would have moved!” Clara shouted in irritation as she rubbed her face where she hit the floor.

“Whatever,” Gilda waved her hand as she unmuted the microphone.

“Hey Jack,” a voice called out from across the room.

Jack’s gun snapped towards the source of the voice; the computer screen with the web camera still watching her.

“Yeah, you. Not feeling so great huh?”

Jack stood up and walked over to stand in front of the computer. On the screen was a face she recognised. One with golden eyes and pen ink tattoos. “Gilda.”

She smiled. “Yep.”

“What do you want?” Jack asked the screen.

“From you? Well, right now I want you to drink that shot glass William offered when you first came in.”

“What?” Jack blinked in confusion.

“You see Jack,” Gilda started then paused. “Celesticorp was basically planning on recruiting you via nanite ingestion for an operation that they need done in Filly. But, you didn’t drink the scotch like we hoped, and basically just killed our best plan for this whole goddamn mess.”

“Ah’m sorry to hear that,” Jack stated dryly.

“You will be,” Gilda shrugged. “You see nanites work in two parts. Either one alone will kill the person that gets hit with it. But you get both of them together, and they both calm each other down. In that shot glass is one half of the nanites. The other half is currently inside you. Did William manage to jab you or something before you killed him?”

Jack turned her hand over and spotted the bloody patch on the palm of her hand where she’d hurt herself with what she’d thought was a pin. She gritted her jaw, and felt a pit form in her stomach.

“It really doesn’t take much for a nanite injection to be deadly. A lethal dose is about the size of a pin head. That’s what you just felt. In about ten minutes the nanites are gonna begin blocking the signals your brain send to the rest of your body. That first one was a warning flare to let you know you’ve been injected. To survive you’re gonna need the other half of it, which is in that scotch.”

“Fuck,” Jack swore.

“I know right? Sucks to be you. I wouldn’t want to work for Celesticorp either.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Jack turned her attention back to the screen.

“Hell no,” Gilda said. “I wouldn’t trust these bastards to wipe my ass. Nah, our interests just meet up at the moment.”

“So what do you want from me?” Jack said as she walked over to the desk and picked up the glass. She looked at it askance, trying to decide whether to drink it or not. Maybe Gilda was lying or something.

“Well, Celesticorp wants you to help them get a kid named Samuel Everson out of Fillydelphia and up to Trotonto. I’m sure you know how nanite blackmail works. Do it or else they push a button, you have a heart attack.”

Jack glanced up at the screen and could feel her heart rate rising again and a familiar burning in her chest. With a sigh she tilted the scotch back, and in a few moments everything returned to normal.

“Attagirl Jackie.” Gilda smiled. “Alright. Go to William’s corpse-oh, and did you really need to kill him like that? Couldn’t you have just shot him or something?”

Jack ignored her and walked over to the dead man and untied the knot around his mangled hands. A loud clack was heard as the statue outside hit the floor, and a much more muted splat as he made contact with the ground.

“On him somewhere should be the needle he jabbed you with.”

Jack pushed up his sleeve. Up it she found a simple needle with the plunger partly compressed, attached to a band around his wrist.

“Somewhere on him he should have six just like that one. Find them; we’ll need ‘em.”

Searching his pockets eventually yielded a small black case with six small identical needles resting inside. She pocketed it and stood up.

“Alright Jack, you’re a good bounty hunter, so I’m sure you know about the million dollar bounty that just got posted, right?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Well you’re gonna go after it.”

Jack snorted. “There’s gonna be a thousand guys going after that kid. The whole place is gonna be a dang warzone. No way in hell am Ah gonna get that kid out of there in one piece.”

“Just leave that to us,” Gilda answered. “We can cut off most of the competition for you, and find you some friends while we’re at it. But you better hurry, ‘cause that city’s about to go off like a phoenix fire.” Jack blinked in confusion and watched as Gilda’s face turned away from the screen. She spoke to someone out of sight. “Hey Cadance, we need a way to contact her or something right?”

“No, we can tap into her vision with the nanites,” answered a voice from off screen.

Jack winced at that. A complete loss of privacy and a lifetime’s enslavement? She turned to glare at William’s mangled corpse. Yeah that bastard got what he deserved.

“Cool.” Gilda turned to face Jack again. “You better get going.”

“What happens if Ah don’t?” Jack said. “Ah’m the only asset you got in Filly.”

Gilda snorted. “Believe me, we have other assets in Filly, just like you. Nah, you say no, then I push this button and you die. I find someone else I like a little less and get them to do the same job. But I want you. You’re closer, you’re better and most importantly we have you right now, meaning we’ll lose no time with recruitment.”

Jack’s jaw clenched as she tried to read Gilda’s face for any sign of a bluff. After a moment she called it. “You’re bluffin’. You need me too much to kill me off.”

Gilda’s eyebrow rose. With a very deliberate motion she pushed a button on screen and Jack clutched her chest as it tightened in pain. She clenched her jaw and held back screams as her heart felt like it was on fire, its pace slowing.

“All right!” she gasped out. “Yer not bluffin’.”

Gilda pushed a different button and the pain stopped. Jack gasped out a breath as her heart rate returned to its normal pace.

“Believe me Jack, you’re convenient to me, not necessary. Now stop fucking around and do what I tell you.”

Jack rolled her neck and glared at the screen. “You know Ah got a rule ‘bout people who fuck with me, right?” She jerked her head at the mess over her shoulder.

Gilda smirked and ran a thumb along the scar on her throat. “Funny, but I have the same rule. Now get going.”

Jack turned and made her way down stairs towards the room. On the way down she saw the guard from earlier who had disarmed her. In his hands was the tub that she’d dropped her stuff in.

“I’m not interested in dying today,” he said loudly to Jack. He dropped the tub on the floor and turned away, heading out the door.

Jack dumped the gun she’d taken from William; semiautomatics weren’t her preference. She re-strapped her holster on and with familiar hands she took up her gun. The sandalwood handle felt good in her grip. The .357 Calibre revolver returned to her holster with a showy twirl on her fingers. Her hatchets found their place under her duster, and her bowie knife slid into its spot in her boot.

She still wasn’t in a good mood, but reuniting with the tools of her trade always made her feel a little better. It helped her forget for a second that she’d been completely fucked by some faceless corporation on the other side of the world.

Standing up, she turned and headed out the front door. She stopped at the top of the drive way and glanced over towards Fillydelphia’s city centre. To think, that poor little kid probably didn’t even know about the tremendous shit storm that was coming down on his head. What the hell could he have done to earn attention from both Luna Industries and Celesticorp?

Whatever. That was a concern for another day. For now she had to get her hands on him and keep him alive. Then she could find out what he knew, and hopefully use that to get an edge up on Gilda and Celesticorp.

Gilda breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. “For a second there I thought she was gonna call my bluff.”

“Which is why you should have let me handle it,” Clara growled at her angrily. “Now get out of my seat, unless you want to take care of the drop as well?”

Gilda rolled her eyes and stood up. “Whatever. Just don’t fuck this up. I’ll be the one that talks to Jack.” She plugged a head set into the laptop and adjusted it over her head. “How long have we got until the city lights up?”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t already,” Clara stated. “At the moment, our best hope is that someone who knows what they’re doing manages to get the kid and stay ahead of the pack until Jack shows up. Honestly, them setting that bounty was a stroke of luck we couldn’t have hoped for.”

The phone in her pocket chimed, and Rebecca paused for long enough to take it out. On the other side of the room, Rufus responded similarly to his phone making a sound too. They both ignored the dirty looks they were shot by their boss.

With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to the family that was currently being prodded with guns and other shiny tools of death.

The living room they were in was your standard faded wallpapers and mouldy carpets of your dog-shit standard Manehattan resident. The family in question were two meth head parents and a kid who was destined for a life of fucked-uppery.

“Kid.” The most ostentatiously decked thug in the room poked him in the back of his head. “Tell us where your dad hid our money, or we blow your mum’s head off.”

Rebecca hated working with gangs like this. They were called diamond dogs, small time packs of thugs desperately trying to hold ground in a city as contested as Fillydelphia. The lot of them were your standard pack of post-apocalyptic filth. Mohawks, ear piercings, studded collars, you name it. This particular batch of diamond dogs was particularly pathetic.

Rebbecca checked the info on her phone’s screen again. Nah, that couldn’t be right. But nope, it was the same as before. Her eyes widened and her brows came together. A million dollars? For some… kid?

She looked up and saw Rufus staring at his phone in disbelief too. Undoubtedly they’d both seen the same offer. They both stared at each other and thought the exact same thing at the same time.

Competition.

He reached for his gun first, but Rebecca was quicker and everything seemed to slow as her gun left its holster. The sights aligned on his head and a bullet left the barrel with a bang. His brains evacuated in a glistening ruby sludge, and Rebecca turned her gun on the only other armed man in the room. He was just turning from the family with a surprised look on his face when her shot caught him in the side of the head.

As Rebecca calmed, time seemed to return to its normal pace, and she dashed outside, leaving two corpses and one very confused family in her wake. Another diamond dog waiting on the street looked to her in confusion before she shot him.

She reloaded her gun and pocketed the partially empty magazine. The .45 calibre rounds were fairly common, but there was no reason to waste the three rounds that were left in the magazine. The gun only had a six round magazine plus the one in the chamber, so Rebecca tended to be precise with her shots. Still, she liked the .45 calibre for its blocky appearance that suited her general biker look.

She climbed onto her bike and turned the keys in the ignition before hitting the accelerator. Fillydelphia blurred past her as she sped to the address from the bounty. Rebecca was glad that she was just a few blocks from where she’d supposedly find the kid. Already she could see a couple of other mercs and gang members rushing to their own vehicle as she sped past.

It was a few minutes until she came before the confusing sight of… Grass? What the hell was grass doing in the middle of the city? Whatever. Sitting up and looking around in confusion was some kid who Rebecca guessed was the bounty. It was a weirdly termed bounty that’s for certain; the kid lying unconscious in the middle of crossroads of Quill Street and Sofa Avenue.

She kicked the stand down on her bike and ran over to him.

“What’s happening?” he murmured groggily.

Rebecca ignored his question and dragged him to his feet. Wow, he was a scrawny kid. Hell, Rebecca wasn’t exactly stocky, but next to him she was brawny. His eyes were green and his pupils were oddly shaped. He had shoulder length green hair, which was odd, but compared to Rebecca was comparatively plain.

She dragged him over to her bike, where she lifted up a duffel bag and hung it over her shoulder. She hopped on the bike with the bag resting against her back and threw the kid over the bike behind her. “Hang on!” she shouted out and sped off, just as more cars started to arrive in the crossroads.

They must have noticed the lack of kid in the middle of the street and assumed the bike speeding off had him. Gun shots rang out and bullets smashed all around the moving bike.

“They’re shooting at me!” the kid panicked, finally coming lucid.

Rebecca smiled. “Don’t worry kid, happens all the time.”

With one hand, Rebecca reached behind her back. She rummaged around in her duffel bag for a moment till she took out a rifle. This was the same rifle she’d had those years ago when she saved Gilda. With a little effort she slipped the strap over her shoulder and around her neck.

“Who are you?!” he asked, probably realising he’d pretty much just been kidnapped. “What do these people want with you, and why’d you drag me into it?!”

“It’s not me they’re after, kid!” Rebecca shouted back at him.

He paused. “So are you here to protect me?!”

“Something like that!”

“So where are we going?!” Spike asked.

“Somewhere that’s not here!” she answered, hoping that would shut him up.

Rebecca’s mind was racing, as she tried to figure out what to do in between swerving vehicles and other things on the road. The sound of the pursuit behind them wasn’t fading, and when she checked her mirrors there was a fleet of cars behind her. It was a good thing they were trading fire with each other amongst themselves. Rebecca needed to shake the pursuit, get the kid somewhere she could hide-

Her thoughts were interrupted by something slamming into the road thirty metres ahead of her. A massive cloud of grey gas erupted from the thing that filled the street. She found herself forced to slow down as she passed through the smoke, and she noted the odd metallic smell of it. Her reduced speed was probably what saved her, as she felt her chest convulse and her heart skip a few beats. Rebecca lowered her head and let go of her gun as she clutched her chest. The bike overbalanced and she found herself and the kid skidding along the road.

Jack slowed the vehicle to a stop and shifted the gear into neutral. She left the car running as she pulled on the parking brake and stepped out, surveying the wreckage before her. A mess of smashed cars and dead bodies, caused by the drivers of damn near a hundred vehicles moving at high speed collapsing in pain all at once.

“Alright Jack,” the piece in her ear rang with Gilda’s voice. “You’ve got ten minutes until everyone in there’s dead from the nanites. That’s including the kid. Also, remember this is recruitment time. Those needles of nanites will buy you some friends, pick a handful that don’t look like douchebags and stick ‘em. Don’t worry about the airborn nanites, the ones you have in you will tell ‘em to piss off.”

“Ah don’t need help,” Jack muttered, sounding more annoyed as she made her way to the back of her pickup truck and lowered the gate.

The sound of snorting was heard through the earpiece. “Believe me, the amount of shit that’ll come down on your head is more than enough to drown. You’re the best bounty hunter I know, and I think I know all of them, so when I say I don’t think you can handle this that means you probably can’t. Anyway, I’m telling you to recruit them whether you want the help or not. I’m not putting all my eggs in your basket.”

Jack took a 12 gauge pump action shotgun from the back of her truck and loaded it. With the gun in hand, she turned and made her way into the maze of twisted wreckage that was still visually impaired by nanite smoke. She walked with the gun pressed against her shoulder and the sights aimed forwards. Ahead she could hear the sound of gunfire and people, that meant some of the wanna-be hunters were still up and fighting.

A sound to her left made Jack snap around and fire at some waster punk who’d just emerged from the top of a tipped car with a snub nosed revolver in hand. Blood blossomed from his chest and he fell back down into the wreckage. She turned her attention back to the road ahead of her and moved forward once more. Her boots crunched on broken glass and squelched in blood and body parts.

She stayed calm, despite the poor visibility and the sound of ongoing fighting going on around her. Her heart rate remained steady as she picked her way through the wreckage. Up ahead she saw four gangsters crouched behind a car and nervously peaking around.

“What was that?” one of them asked another. “Should we go-” He cut himself off and his eyes widened as he spotted Jack. “Over th-”

He didn’t finish his statement as Jack unloaded a shell into his head. She racked the shotgun and turned her fire on the man he was next to, but she only scored a partial hit on arm. His frantic scramble to the left while firing a submachine gun had thrown her aim and forced her to take cover behind an old fire hydrant. Jack stepped forward out of cover and fired again, this time killing him, just as the two other gangsters turned around and began firing. Jack dived forward, avoiding their panicked spray. Coming up into a crouch between them, she turned her gun on the man to her left, fired and shredded his legs. The last man tried to turn his gun down on her, but Jack rammed the butt of her shotgun into his crotch. He gasped in pain and unloaded his gun into the ground. Jack’s shotgun smashed up into his jaw, snapping his head back as she turned around and pressed the barrel of her gun to his chin.

Blood and skull fragments filled the air as she racked the shotgun one last time. She turned to the wounded gangster clutching his legs and fired her last shell into his chest. She noticed her hat had fallen off her head when she rolled, so she scooped it up as she walked.

“Stop playing with the losers and find that kid, Jack,” her ear piece warned.

Jack paused for long enough to load another seven shells into her shotgun before continuing. As she passed through the wreckage, she came across a few more gangsters, pausing just long enough to end them, but overall her progress was fast.

“One shell left.” she muttered as she checked her gun.

The haze had started to lift, but her vision ahead was anything but clear as some of the wreckage had also set on fire, filling the air with its oily black smoke.

A man ran screaming out of the smoke at her, his body coated in flame. He fell to his knees on the ground, frantically beating at the flames on his body, but it was hopeless, and he was destined to burn. Jack hesitated for a second before she put her last shell in him.

“Aww, I like it when they do the dance,” an oddly childish sounding voice called out.

Jack’s shotgun clattered to the road as she dropped the empty gun in favour of her loaded revolver. She aimed down the sight as she looked around for the source of that voice, still moving forward through the haze.

“What about you?” a giggle could be heard. “Do you want to do the burny dance?”

Jack traced the voice to its source. Atop an overturned car, near where the man had run from, was a strange looking lady. She was of average height and crouched. Her hair was a tangled mass of pink knots, and Jack could see the manic grin on her face. She was garbed in your standard wastelander outfit, which was unusual for someone in this city, but her clothes were stained at regular intervals by brown patches and grey ash. Sticking up over each shoulder was a sword handle, and another sword rested on each hip. She was odd to say the least.

“Or how about we dance?” The lady tilted her head.

Jack fired, but just as her finger hit the trigger the lady twitched to the left and the bullet passed through the air right where she’d been. The lady dived off the car and rolled across the ground as Jack’s second shot sailed over her head. She came out of the roll with two swords drawn and twitched to the right as a bullet landed right where she’d been. Jack stepped back and fired again, but just as before, the moment her finger touched the trigger the lady was somewhere else. Jack’s fifth shot grazed the woman’s shoulder despite another dodge. Her sixth shot missed entirely as Jack was forced to duck back behind a street sign to avoid losing an arm.

Her empty gun slid into her holster smoothly as she rolled backwards out of the lady’s second swipe, and came up with both her hatchets in hand.

The lady blitzed at Jack and swung her swords in a scissor. Blocking smoothly, Jack stumbled back as the other’s foot almost found her stomach. The lady capitalised on her open stance, almost landing a blow on Jack’s neck and the bounty hunter barely managed to block the attack. Jack growled in frustration as she was pressed further back, deflecting a blow just before it hit her ribcage. Her back hit a piece or wreckage and she side stepped just in time to get a cut on her arm.

The lady’s other sword was swung at Jack’s neck and she ducked under it, bringing her axe up at the ladies chin. She skipped back out of reach, and brought her swords up in time to smoothly intercept Jack’s axe strike. Swords up, she failed to respond in time to Jack’s knee slamming into her chest. She moved with the blow and the damage was minimal, but she lost further ground to awkwardly blocking Jack’s axe. Before Jack could capitalise on her open stance, the lady rolled away out of her reach and came to her feat with her swords ready.

“You’re good at the game,” the woman spoke. “It’s a shame that I’m better,” she said as she went to twirl her swords showily.

The lady had to stop her twirl in order to awkwardly stop Jack’s axe from lodging in her throat. She was forced to step back and almost slipped on a plate of metal. Jack took advantage of her stumble, her second axe hooked around the edge of the lady’s other sword. She yanked it out of her grip, sending it clattering away. The right axe came in for an underhand strike that almost got buried in the lady’s jaw, but she tilted her head at the last second. Jack’s boot found the lady’s gut and she grunted in pain as she was knocked her back. The lady just managed to draw one of the swords on her hip in time to block the strike from Jack’s left axe. The lady’s left sword came around to take Jack’s head, but Jack ducked under the blow and almost put her right axe in the lady’s side when a sudden pain in Jack’s chest slowed her. She barely managed to block the lady’s much quicker counterstroke and was forced to duck back out of sword range.

The pain in her chest stopped, and Gilda’s voice came in Jack’s ear. “This one’s good. We’re recruiting her, not killing her.”

Jack grit her teeth in frustration.

“You almost had me there,” the lady said. “You’re really good,” she said as she circled around Jack. “I don’t recognise that style, and believe me I know a lot of styles. I’ve never heard of two handed axe cowgirl technique,” she tilted her head to the left, but unlike before she didn’t make the mistake of dropping her guard. “I think I might keep your hat, as a souvenir, for that time I danced with a cowgirl.” The two continued to circle around each other. “Are you gonna make the first move or-” She went bug eyed and grasped her chest in surprise.

Jack wasted no time and knocked the two swords out of the lady’s hands. One of her hatchets returned to its place under Jack’s duster, and she snatched out a nanite needle that she shoved into the lady’s neck. The plunger went down and the lady gasped as she stepped back, clutching her chest and the needle in her neck. After a second she yanked it out and shook her head, while glaring at Jack. She drew her last sword.

“What did you do to me?!” she asked.

“Saved your life,” Jack muttered. “You know how nanite recruitment works?”

The woman shook her head slowly while glaring.

Jack sighed and took out her ear piece. “Here, she’ll explain it. Grab your swords and follow me.”

The woman frowned, but put the piece in her ear as Jack strode back to where she’d come from to retrieve her empty shotgun.

“Patricia,” the woman murmured in response to some question that Gilda asked.

Jack grabbed her shotgun and one of the lady’s swords. She paused for long enough to give Patricia back her sword and reload her revolver before continuing in the direction she had been before. She heard Patricia’s footstep behind her, indicating that the strange lady was following. A tap on her shoulder and Jack looked back to see Patricia holding the ear piece out. She had all four swords back in their sheathes and was giving Jack the I’m-gonna-kill-you look that Jack had learned to hide long ago.

Whatever, just as long as she doesn’t try anything.

She muttered something about ‘ruining the game’ as Jack took the piece back and put it in her ear. As the two of them picked their way through the smoke and wreckage, they came across four people all alive and clutching their chests.

“Recruitment time,” Gilda said into Jack’s ear.

Jack glanced around and picked the only person that wasn’t dressed up in the dumbass leather, mohawks and chains of a Filly gangster. She was a beautiful looking woman, elegantly dressed, particularly for a wastelander, and seemingly out of place except for the semiautomatic in her grip. She spotted Jack coming and weakly raised it to fire, but her hand was pinned under Jack’s boot as the needle was plunged into her arm. After a moment her breathing levelled and she slumped back.

Jack looked over her shoulder at the pack of wasteland punks. Yeah, she didn’t want any of these people’s help. “Patricia,” she jerked her head at the prone diamond dogs and waste punks. “We don’t need any of them.”

Patricia tilted her head quizzically at Jack, who rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb across her throat. Patricia nodded her head in understanding and drew one of her swords. Jack turned to face the lady beneath her as the sound of parting flesh and bloody gurgling filled her ears.

As she looked down at her, the lady was looking back up at Jack with a considering look on her face. “Why did you save me?” she asked with an educated-sounding voice.

“Ya know how nanite recruitment works?” Jack asked taking her foot off the lady’s hand.

She nodded.

“Well that just happened to you,” Jack said as she gave her a hand up.

The sound of a cocking gun caused Jack to whirl around her hand going to her revolver. She froze when she saw a lady in a business suit pointing a gun at Jack. She was leaning heavily against a car next to her and her breathing was laboured. She was wearing a pair of glasses, and in general she looked pretty nerdy, but Jack recognised killer’s eyes when she saw them. They were calm, collected and calculating even as her heart was failing.

“Give me a syringe,” she ordered.

Jack slowly took one of the nanite syringes out from under her Jacket. “You know that this is a nanite conscription?”

“Yes, most likely Celesticorp and judging by my heart-rate I have about four minutes until cardiac arrest. Give me the nanites.”

Jack paused. “Gilda?” she asked.

“Go for it,” the ear piece answered. “Better than all those damn waster punks anyway.”

“Alright,” Jack said as she slowly walked over to her, careful not to make sudden movements.

She held out the nanites, just inside her reach. The nanites were taken, and a slightly shaky hand jabbed them into a vein.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked stepping back, and watching as the lady lowered her gun and took a second to catch her breath.

“Theresa,” she answered. “Theresa Umbrage.”

“And you?” Jack asked as she turned back to the other woman.

“Rachel Diamond,” was the answer.

“Alright, here’s the deal.” Jack spoke out loud for everyone. “Everyone here’s been conscripted by Celesticorp. Ah’m in contact with them right now, and at the moment they want us to find the kid that the bounty was set on so we can stick him with what you all got hit with. Otherwise they’re gonna hit the switch and kill us all. And if Theresa’s right we’ve got about four minutes to do that.”

“Three,” Theresa corrected.

“Three then. So everyone follow me and keep an eye out for him.” Jack turned to walk away when she felt a weight leave her hip.

She spun, around gun drawn, to see some woman standing there with one of Jack’s nanite syringes in her arm, plunger down. The woman was dressed in a grey hoody with the hood up and a Kevlar vest over the top of that. Wrapped around her face was a grey rag and her eyes were concealed by a cracked pair of sunglasses. Hanging around her neck via a strap was a black 5mm submachine gun with an attached silencer.

Jack grit her jaw. “Why didn’t anyone tell me she was behind me?” she asked, turning to the rest of the group.

“Because that would have ruined the game silly.” Patricia was the only one to answer.

Jack raised an eyebrow at her before sighing in frustration. “Whatever,” Jack faced the lady again. “You heard everything Ah just said?”

She nodded.

“Then come on,” Jack turned to leave.

“The child you’re after,” the woman said in a voice so quiet Jack almost didn’t hear it. “He’s this way.” She pointed in another direction.

Jack shrugged. “Then lead the way unless you want a heart attack.”

She didn’t answer, just turned and walked. As they passed through the wreckage, they saw a few more people lying around, but Jack didn’t stop to conscript any of them, and Patricia seemed to enjoy cutting their throats a little too much for anyone to want to stop her.

They walked for about a minute until they came to an overturned, badly damaged motorbike. The lady led them past it; along the road they walked, there were multiple corpses strewn about, riddled with bullet holes. Jack noted that all of them were shot either in the head or the chest. No corpse had been hit more than one or two times, and the wounds were all about the same size, meaning that they’d probably been hit by the same gun. Whoever had done this was a much better marksman then Jack.

“Hurry,” Gilda said in Jack’s ear, and she began running. The others, jogged after her.

It was only a few seconds until they came into sight of someone with a gun in one hand shambling forwards slowly while bent over and dragging something behind them. As Jack got closer she realised that something was a kid, probably the one they were after.

The person who was dragging him slowly staggered to a stop and turned around, raising their gun. But Jack was too fast and knocked the rifle out of their hands, leaving it hanging loosely around their neck. The person tried to punch Jack, but the blow was slow and clumsy, and all Jack had to do was catch it with her palm and hit the person in the gut. The person bent over wheezing and Jack shoved her onto her back. Then Jack turned around and jabbed the nanites into the kid’s arm.

The kid’s breathing evened out and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. As the pain faded away, the kid sat up and looked around at the assembled women who all stared down at him.

After a second he spoke. “Could somebody please explain what the fuck is happening?”

From the look of him he was about twelve, scrawny and fairly tall for his age.

Jack put a finger to her ear piece. “Gilda, is that him?”

“Yeah, I think so. Turn around and look at whoever it was that had been dragging him.”

Jack obliged and turned to face the person who was sprawled on their back.

“Holy shit!” Gilda shouted in Jack’s ear causing her to wince. “That’s Rebecca!”

“Who?” Jack asked as she looked at the woman on the ground.

She wasn’t very tall, with an athletic frame and strange rainbow-coloured hair. She was wearing a sleeveless black leather jacket, and on the ground beneath her was a duffel bag. Her face was pretty in a way and a single stud was in her nose.

“Give her the nanites,” Gilda ordered.

“Why? There’s already five of us to take the one kid.”

“Jack, give her the other half of the goddamn nanites right the fuck now, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Grumbling internally, Jack crouched down and took out the last of the six nanite syringes which she jabbed in Rebecca’s leg. Who the heck was this Rebecca anyway? Jack didn’t enjoy death threats anymore than the next person did, but at least usually she could rely on her own skills to make that threat meaningless. But now that she had these nanites in her blood, all the skills and personal toughness that she’d developed were useless. Fucking Gilda. Fucking Celesticorp! Fucking Badworld, and fucking everything!

Jack clenched her fists and cracked the nanite vial in her hand. She let out a deep breath and forced calm onto herself. Calm down. You’re not helpless, just at a disadvantage. Like always. You’ll turn this around. It’s what you always do. Dusting her hands, she stood up and watched as Rebecca’s breathing evened out and her eyes went from pained to normal.

“What now?” Jack asked Gilda.

“Now you take the kid and get the fuck out of Filly, that bounty’s still on his head and you can bet the moon men aren’t gonna send a pack of douchebag bounty hunters this time. You got any place nearby?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, Ah got a safe house ‘bout a day from here.”

“Well go there and take your new friends with you. This journey is far from over.”

Sean and Simon watched through the satellite screen as the strange smoke from the sky cleared, and the street was left with nothing but a pack of car wrecks, and strewn corpses. They searched around a bit but couldn’t find a trace of the kid they were after or the woman that was the first to pick him up.

They were silent for a moment until Simon spoke. “We are so fucked.”

Sean didn’t say anything.

“We are so dead, this was your idea!” He pointed an accusing finger at Sean.

“It might be okay,” Sean answered. “If nobody knows about the stitch, then nobody will know if we lost it, right?”

A chuckle was heard from behind the two of them, and they both spun in their chairs to face the doorway.

“A shame then, that I just overheard you.”

The man that entered the room could barely be called a man. He looked like he’d been stitched together from the parts of others. One eye was brown and surrounded by dark skin, except that skin was just a patch that had been sown into the gap between one top half of his face and the other. One half of his face had pale white skin and a single grey blue eye, and the other half had a darker more exotic tint to it. The lower half of his face was white and a little wrinkled, a grey goatee rested on his chin. Holding this amalgamation of clashing skin tones and attributes together were lines of scar tissue. The smirk on his face was confident, and his eyes held a sadistic intelligence. His clothes were a patchwork of business suits of varying colours and patterns, and even his tie was made from pink and green that was sewn together in the middle.

Sean might have just wet himself.

“So I heard that our two Fillydelphia-listening post operators had authorised a million dollar bounty within the city. I came down here to see what could possibly have possessed them to do so.

“Sir I-”

“Ah-ah-ah.” The strange man held a finger up to Sean. “Let me finish.”

Simon trembled.

“Then I come down here and hear that you’ve lost a stitch. What stitch?” His voice was low and dangerous.

Sean turned away from his computer and hurriedly backed to the corner of the room as the strange patchwork man leaned over and examined his computer screen. After a moment he stood up and turned around to face the two terrified employees.

“So, to confirm my understanding, you two, found the single biggest stitch ever detected by our company, and not only did you fail to report it,” he paused for breath. “You posted a public bounty on it of a million dollars, stirred the city into a frenzy and did nothing but watch as Celesticorp did a nanite asset satellite drop and recruitment. Worse than that, they got away with the child, and now you’re trying to cover it up.”

Sean and Simon looked at each other fearfully but didn’t say anything.

He stepped closer to them. “While I appreciate a good bit of chaos as much as the next man, may I ask what it was that you thought you were doing?”

“Sir we-”

“Oh, I understand what was happening here. This is clearly a suicide attempt, and a devious one at that. Surely no one could be so foolish as to make all the mistakes you two have, and not want to die.”

“Please sir we-”

“No, no I hear you.” He stepped closer and ran a reassuring hand over Sean’s arm. “Your plan was to make me kill the both of you. You’ve clearly had enough of this life and desire some help going to the hereafter.”

“No we-”

“Sh-sh-sh.” The man hushed Sean. “I must reward such clever planning. Far be it from me to be the flaw in your otherwise perfectly executed suicide attempt.”

“Please we-”

A gun sounded off; in the patchwork man’s hand was a smoking old fashioned flint lock pistol.

Simon did nothing but stare in horror. A small skull fragment slowly slid down his cheek, and all he could do was shiver and watch as the patchwork man slowly reloaded the pistol for another shot.

“How was your day?” the man asked as he poured a small amount of gunpowder down the barrel. “Mine’s been pretty terrible so far.” A small sachet of grease was used to lubricate the edges of the gun’s barrel. “One of my dear employees ended his own life today, and I’m terribly emotional about it.” He took out a rounded lead ball and pressed it into the barrel. “I can’t help but wonder if I’m in some way responsible. Was I too hard in him? Were his work conditions too terrible? Perhaps I’m the cause of this.” A thin rod was inserted down the barrel of the gun, and the lead ball was pressed all the way to the bottom. “The worst part is it wasn’t just one of my employees, was it?” He turned and pressed the pistol to Simon’s forehead.

Simon hyperventilated as the hammer was thumbed back. He tried to move, say something or do anything, but he could only stare up into those mismatched eyes. He felt paralysed, helpless.

“Oh well,” the man said as he shrugged. “Live and learn.”

There was a crack and a puff of smoke as the gun was fired.

Chapter 2: Outset

A Long Journey

Chapter 1: outset

“So uh… why did all these dead people want to kidnap me?” Spike asked as he almost tripped over his third corpse.

“Same reason we did, kid,” the rainbow-haired one answered him. “Cash.”

“No, I know that. What I meant was why did someone want me in the first place?” No one answered him, and they continued to walk in silence for a minute.

After a moment the pink one with the swords spoke. “Oh... that’s why all the people were partying there...” She giggled and shrugged. “I didn’t even know there was a bounty hunt happening.”

Spike paused to stare at her, but the nerdy looking lady with the glasses pushed him into motion again. “Then why were you even here?” he asked.

She glanced back over at him, brushing her pink scraggly hair out of her vision. “Oh, well I saw the car crash and gun fight, so I thought I’d come and join the fun.”

Spike blinked and paused again, only to be shoved once more. He stumbled forward. “Do you mind?” He asked her, only to get pushed again.

“Time’s a factor.” She frowned and gestured with her gun. “Walk on your own with us, or wait here for another hoard of bounty hunters who’ll kill you in a crossfire.”

He scowled at her before he turned and faced the front. They walked in silence for a while longer until Spike asked again. “So, where are we going then?” No one answered him. “Hey, cowgirl lady, where are we going?”

She glanced back at him, from the front of the line. “Mah truck.”

“Alright… then where?”

“Mah safe house.”

Spike groaned in frustration. “You know what I mean.”

She just shrugged.

“Oh come on!” Spike almost screamed. “Is it that hard for one of you to explain to me what’s going on? One moment I‘m having a stroke or something, the next Crazy Rainbow here,” -he jerked his head at her and she grunted- “is throwing me on her bike, then gunshots and car crashes and I sort of lost track after that. But the point is what, the hell, is happening?!”

“Kid, few things. First, my name’s Rebecca.” She paused and added, “Though I do kinda like being Crazy Rainbow. Second, asking any corporates for information is pointless. And third, you’re preaching to the choir here. I know jack shit too, and if I had to guess, most of these ladies know about as much as you or I. They’re here for the cash as well, remember?”

Spike glanced across at her. “Who even set the bounty on me?”

“Luna Industries.” Rebecca shrugged. “Though I got no idea why. From what I know, Celesticorp are the ones that have us by the balls.” She turned to face the front. “Hey! Cowgirl! What does Celesticorp want with the kid?”

“My name’s Spike.”

“Whatever, dude.” Rebecca shrugged. “Cowgirl, what’s Celesticorp want with Spike?”

“How should Ah know?” She shrugged.

“What, you just take orders from them and never ask why?”

“Like you said, corporates don’t tell nobody nothin’.” She rounded a corner, and the group followed after her.

“So none of you even know why you’re kidnapping me?” Spike asked.

“I know if I don’t Celesticorp’ll give me a heart attack.” Rebecca shrugged. “That’s all the reason I need at the moment.”

Up ahead Spike spotted a battered white pickup truck. “That’s yours?” he asked the blond cowgirl.

“Yep.” she answered.

“I call driver!” Rebecca shouted.

The cowgirl snorted. “Call it all you like. Mah car, Ah drive.”

“Whatever dude. I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”

She snorted again and walked right past her.

“Are you twelve?” Spike asked Rebecca.

She shrugged. “Whatever, I call shotgun then.”

“Fine. Ah don’t care, but the kids got the middle seat. You can fight over who gets to hang on in the back. It’s only a five seater.”

“I refuse to take the back.” Spike glanced over at the pretty lady who had spoken. “The dust would be awful.”

The cowgirl snorted again. “Like Ah said. Do as you like.” She turned away muttering, “You’re all dead weight anyway.”

She was about to walk away, when the Pink lady stepped in front of her. Spike noticed Jack’s hand go under her coat.

“Just so you know, but I’m gonna see what a cowgirl’s insides look like.”She giggled and tilted her head. “I wonder if you’ll taste like beef?” she shook her head and smiled at Jack, a hand extended for a shake. “I’m Patricia by the way.”

If the cowgirl was fazed by that, she didn’t show it. All she did was raise her eyebrow and say, “Girl, better ‘an you have tried. Now get outta mah way.”

Patricia giggled. “You’re good, but you’re not that good. No one’s better than me.” She stepped aside. “I’d have had you if it wasn’t for those nanites.”

“If you say so,” was the reply as she walked around the front of the car and hopped in the driver side. “You can take the back.”

Patricia gave a salute and giggled before flipping her legs in an overhead handstand as she vaulted into the back. The lady with the bandanna covering her face jumped in the back with her, and Spike found himself shoved into the middle seat between the glasses lady and the pretty lady. He really needed to learn all these people’s names.

The keys were turned in the ignition, and the car pulled away.

“So what are your names anyway?” he asked as he tried to get comfortable. A task that was a little difficult when your hands were tied together behind your back. He hadn’t even tried to escape yet, but they weren’t being gentle with him.

“Rachel Diamond, sweetie,” the prettier one answered him. “Samuel Everson?”

“People call me Spike.” He shrugged. “But, yeah that’s my name.”

“Might I say Samuel, you seem to be taking this all rather well.” Rachel turned to him. “I know I wouldn’t handle similar circumstances half as calmly.”

Spike felt himself alight at the comment, but he decided to play it cool and shrugged. “I dunno… I guess you just get used to sudden violence when you live in Filly.” Not even remotely true. But hey, if the most beautiful woman in the world was going to compliment him on it...

“Hah!” laughed Rebecca from up front. “Think this place is rough?” She turned back in her seat to face him. “This isn’t half as bad as where I lived.”

“Deadlands?” the cowgirl asked.

“Shit, yeah! Born and raised.” She sat straight in her seat and faced the driver. “How about you, cowgirl?”

“Name’s Jack, not cowgirl.”

“Whatever dude. Where you from?”

Jack snorted. “Ah’ve known you for five minutes at best. Think it’s a little early to get into that?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Whatever.” She turned back in her seat. “What about you, four eyes?” she looked over her shoulder at the nerdy lady in the business suit.

“Theresa Umbrage, though I prefer Umbrage,” she answered, before turning to face Jack. “So you work for Celesticorp?”

“No more ‘an you do,” she replied.

Theresa didn’t seem worried about the vague answer. “What can you tell me about this operation? Who’s running it, what the goal is, why they’re operating in Luna Industries territory?”

Jack was a good driver. The car was moving at a pretty fast speed and she had it under control, easily evading any obstacles. She knew the city too, and Spike could see the route they were taking was a fast track out of the city.

Jack didn’t answer at first, but after a while she shrugged. “Ah know this operation was botched. They threw it together at the last minute, and had ta change plans halfway through anyway. Don’t know why they wanted the kid, or why the Moonies did either.”

Theresa nodded. “I suspected as much. A nanite drop in Luna Industries territory is a very bold move. Do you know anything else? What their original plan was, who’s running this?”

“Near as Ah can tell, the original plan involved conscripting me an’ a few others to grab the kid. Like Ah said, it seemed to me like it was rushed. The bounty Luna Industries set up seemed like a mess to me too.”

Rebecca interrupted. “Conscripting you? So what, you’re in the same boat we are?”

Jack shrugged. “Ah guess. All I know was they wanted me for some reason, and you guys were thrown in at the last minute.” She glanced across at Rebecca. “An’ they knew you by name.”

“Huh?” Rebecca asked.

“Ah was gonna leave you there, but they specifically told me to give you the other half of the nanites. Knew you by name and everything.” She shrugged. “Threatened to kill me right there if Ah didn’t. You got somethin’ to do with all this?”

Rebecca turned forward in her seat. “Nah, I just jumped on the bounty.”

“Alright,” Spike interrupted. “So to summarise this, I’ve been kidnapped by a group of bounty hunters and mercenaries, none of whom know each other, none of whom know me, and none of them even know why they’re doing it in the first place.”

Jack snorted. “That’s the short of it.”

Rebecca glanced back at him. “Really not a good day for you, huh?”

“You think?” Spike asked dryly.

“Don’t worry kid.” Rebecca shrugged. “Think of it this way; at least they want us to take you in alive.” She grinned at him.

“Yeah, silver lining,” Spike muttered.

Theresa spoke again. “So you don’t know any names in this?”

Jack shrugged. “The person I was talking to was Gilda, and someone else named Cadance got mentioned.”

“I don’t know any Cadances or Gildas that work for Celesticorp.” Theresa frowned, as if not knowing annoyed her. “And I only know of one Gilda.”

Rebecca interrupted. “I know a Gilda, but I doubt she’d work for Celesticorp.”

“Well it was this Gilda who knew you by name.” Jack shrugged at Rebecca, and glanced at Theresa through her rear view mirror. “And the Gilda you’re thinking of, that’s the one Ah was talkin’ to.”

Theresa blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yup. I’d know that face anywhere.”

Theresa paused. “You’ve met Gilda? As in the Gilda. Biggest bounty Luna Industries ever placed on anyone Gilda?”

“That one.”

“Wait wait wait,” Rebecca interrupted. “Are we talking about the same person? Tall, bald and broad? Swears like a sailor, total bitch and tough as nails?”

“Yep, that one. You know her?” Jack asked.

“I’ll say I know her. I saved her goddamn life!” Rebecca sounded pissed off. “How the hell do you know her?”

Jack shrugged. “I’m a bounty hunter, she’s a bounty. Pretty simple relationship.”

Rebecca was looking angry. “So what, you tried to catch her?”

“Me an’ some others. Heard of Lulamoon and Gustav’?”

Rebecca nodded.

“Well them and a few others. We were working with Luna Industries backing, trying to track her down. Didn’t go well. Gustave died. don’t know what happened to Lullamoon, though I saw her alive ‘bout a month back. The Moonies pulled out, and the others were either dead or scattered.”

“How?” Theresa asked.

“Hell, if Ah know. Ambush, sniper fire, explosives. This didn’t all happen at once, but after a few weeks o’ that happening pretty much every day, Ah don’t blame the others for pulling out. Eventually it was just me an’ Gustave. You don’t need the details but we tailed her for damn near a month. Eventually we caught her not waiting for us, and we thought we had her.” Jack shrugged again. “Gustave died.” She rolled up her sleeve and showed a thick scar on her forearm. She turned her arm over and showed a similar scar on the other side. “She had a big knife. Went right ‘tween the bones. Almost bled me out. Ah decided it wasn’t worth it an’ backed off. Not that that turned out well. For some reason she tracked me down again a few months later, and sat me down for a chat. Ah’m not takin’ mah jacket off, but there’s another big long knife scar there.”

Theresa looked quite interested. “What did she want?”

“Just to tell her what Ah knew ‘bout some bounty Ah turned in a month earlier. Dumbass guy stole something from Luna Industries. Ah’m guessing they were stitches, but it was just a bag full of weird sealed letters and such. Gilda let me go, and Ah walked away.”

Rebecca seemed shocked. “That can’t be Gilda.”

Jack glanced at her. “Why not?”

“… Because Gilda’s not… she’s not some uber badass. I mean she’s tough and all, and crazy enough to be damn scary but… she’s just not smart like that, and there’s no way in hell she could’ve taken on all those bounty hunters and Moonies.” Rebecca shook her head. “It has to be someone else, or she’s not working alone or something.”

Jack shrugged. “Well Ah don’t know any other gals that are taller ‘an Ah am, bald, pen ink tattoos, swear like she does and can go toe to toe with me. It’s a pretty rare combination of attributes.”

Rebecca didn’t say anything; just leaned back in her seat and stared forward with her her arms crossed.

Rachel spoke up. “So what plan is in place here?”

Jack sighed in annoyance and glanced at her in the mirror. “We’re going to mah safe house nearby, picking up some supplies and making our way north to Trotonto. Hopefully Celesticorp won’t leave us high and dry, so we won’t be completely doomed when Luna Industries gets their act together and comes after us proper.”

“Trotonto?” Rachel repeated looking unhappy. “That’s on the other side of the continent! I have business here.”

Jack snorted. “Well if you’re in the business of not dying then you’re going to have to prioritise a bit.”

Theresa sniffed and sat back in her chair. She spoke up after a second. “That was an awful lot of information you just offered,” she stated flatly. “How do we know any of it’s true? What’s to say you aren’t lying to us?”

Jack snorted. “Why would Ah lie?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Who’s to say Gilda has anything to do with this.?

Jack rolled her eyes and glared at Theresa. “You’re a corporate, aren’t ya?”

She didn’t answer.

“Listen sugar, most folk like to do their business straightforward-like without worryin’ about backstabbers an’ loopholes. Ah do my business up front. That stuff was all o’ your business. It’s really that simple.”

Theresa didn’t comment again. Though she did take out her mobile phone and flip it open. After a second she closed it and sighed. “Luna Industries cancelled my mobile plan. Check your phones.”

“Don’t have a phone.” Rebecca shrugged. “Never needed one.”

Rachel took out her phone, before sighing.

Spike yelped when he felt Theresa’s hand sliding into his back pocket. “What are you doing?!” he shouted in annoyance.

“Checking your phone,” Theresa replied as she took it out. “Cancelled too.” Spike rolled his eyes as she continued. “Not surprising. Both corporations have complete control over communications. If we’re lucky, Celesticorp will provide for us.”

They were silent after that, and Spike sat there looking out the window. They’d left Fillydelphia and were now cruising through the bumpy wastelands that defined Badworld. It was a few seconds before he got bored with the scenery and started to look at the other people in the car.

Rachel was the most beautiful, he decided. Not that there was much competition, but Rachel was basically the perfect standard of hotness. Spike was a teen, his hormones were active, and he had no doubt that she’d feature in a few of his dreams. Her brunette hair was long and elegant, and her blue eyes were just damn sexy. She had a perfectly-shaped face and luscious lips. She was dressed in nice clothes, and from what Spike could see, she was perfectly curvy. Which was unusual for any Badworld survivor. Not only that, but the way she walked and talked... There was this... classiness about her.

Jack was probably the next prettiest, but the killer’s eyes were a bit off putting. She was pretty enough in the face, with her freckles, green eyes and blonde hair. Spike hadn’t seen her body yet, hidden beneath her heavy duster like it was, but if her forearms were any indication, then she was well toned. Her hands were calloused, and she probably had a ton of scars. Overall she might have been pretty, but her general demeanour and baggage was enough to turn Spike away.

Rebecca was cute enough, in a tomboyish way, but Spike still had memories of her with a gun. It’d been damn scary. The feral grin on her face as she ducked between different pieces of cover and nailed perfect headshot after headshot. How she’d tied his hands behind his back when he tried to run, and dragged him kicking and screaming through a wall of death. The entire time they’d been in danger she’d looked like she was having the time of her life. No, that wasn’t Spike’s particular cup of tea. Even if she was pretty damn hot and athletic.

Theresa was the least pretty. Not that she was ugly, just strictly average. Her glasses covered businesslike eyes, and her face was set in a frown. Her darker skin made her seem slightly exotic, but other than that she was really plain. Her business suit hid any figure she might have had, but to Spike she looked thin and wiry. He noticed calluses on her hands, and he had no doubt she was a killer just as much as Rebecca or Jack.

It was then he realised something. He was the only guy here. Spike couldn’t help but smirk to himself. That didn’t sound so bad. Then he remembered they were all killers and mercenaries. Well, except maybe Rachel. She didn’t give the ‘I stab you dead’ impression the others did. Though, if she was after a bounty then she had to be dangerous in some way. Or an idiot. One of the two.

“Shit, Trotonto’s really far away isn’t it?” Rebecca said suddenly. “How long’s it going to take us to get there?”

“Assuming that Celesticorp wants us to take him all the way?” Jack shrugged. “Three months at least.”

“Why three months?” Rachel asked from the back. “We have a car, and yes it is several thousand miles, but with fuel we can drive that in a week or perhaps two.”

“We can’t drive all the way for one thing. Don’t know how far you’ve been from Filly, but the roads don’t last. We’ll need resupplies and you can bet we’ll change vehicles a few times ‘fore this is over. Plenty o’ places that we’ll have to cross on foot, and that’s assuming we can get a new ride on the other side of ‘em. Girl, if we’re really taking off for Trotonto, then this is the long haul. No quick in or out. Plus we’ll have pursuit, which means delays when we try to shake ‘em, and Ah doubt we won’t run into delays with others in front trying to stop us.”

Rachel leaned back into her seat looking worried. “Well, is there any way we can get rid of these nanites?”

“It’s possible,” Theresa replied. “But I doubt the chances. We’d need their frequency, and access to the satellite they’re remote tracking us with. Then we’d need a decent computer to hack the AI’s and spoof them into leaving our system without killing us, or at the very least not give or receive orders. Even then, that last one’s a long shot because they’ll stay in our system, and all it would take is someone to provide a new frequency and we’d be in the same situation again. That would take hours to do, and in that time they could kill us quite easily.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” Rebecca glanced back at her.

“I’ve done nanite recruitment to others in the past,” Theresa answered. “This is my first time having it done to me.”

Gilda stalled a moment longer as she watched the conversation on screen. The mobile phone in her hand was flipped open, and Jack’s number was tapped in, but Gilda really didn’t want to do this.

“Gilda?” Clara asked from her right. “We need to go. If you’re going to make your personal call, then do it now before we pack up.”

“Shut up Cadance.” Gilda muttered as she hit dial. A pit formed in her stomach as the phone connected, and on the screen Gilda watched through Rebecca’s eyes as Jack answered. Goddamn it, she hated that these Celesticorp douchebags would be watching Rebecca like this.

“Jack,” said the voice on the other end.

“Yeah it’s Gilda. Uh… put Rebecca on.”

Onscreen Jack glanced at Rebecca before handing the phone across. “For you.” A hand reached across and took the phone.

“Yeah?” a scratchy voice said in Gilda’s ear.

“Hey Rebecca… It’s me,” Gilda said. She gave a desperate little smile, as if Rebecca could see it and continued, “How’s it going, dude?”

“Gilda?” the voice on the other end said. “What the fuck!”

Gilda winced.

“You fucking abandon me after I save your life, I don’t see or hear from you in six years, and now you’ve gotten me conscripted in some corporate shit, and you open with ‘how’s it going, dude’? How the fuck do you think it’s going?!”

Gilda put her fingers to her brows and looked down. “Yeah, shit. I know, I know.”

“You better fucking know. What the fuck is going on!”

“Look dude… uh… Shit. Look, I didn’t abandon you-”

“No, you just left me for dead two days after I save your life! I killed at least a hundred people!”

Gilda winced. “Yeah I know, I know, but I left you with a gun and a bike and cash and everything.”

“Oh, yeah that makes it all better! Especially when the town we were in tries to lynch me for the shit you stole! We were fucking sisters dude! How the fuck would you leaving ever be okay! You know what I fucking did for you?!”

Gilda couldn’t answer. They were silent for a second until Gilda spoke. “Look, for what it’s worth I’m sorry. Alright? I fucked up. But...”

“But what?!”

Gilda sighed and found herself a seat. “Dude, I got wrapped up in some shit that… Look, I didn’t know if I was just crazy, or if it was for real, or whatever. But I knew that there was no fucking way I was going to get you involved in it. It was some real heavy shit, okay?”

“Oh! That was where the heavy shit started! Never mind what I had to do before that! You were worried I couldn’t handle it! No warning no nothing, just up in the night and run!”

Gilda put her palm to her face again. “It’s just that… Shit…”

“Yeah! It is shit!”’

“Oh for fuck’s sake Rebecca!” Gilda shouted and stood up. “I’m so fucking sorry that it hurts! I didn’t want to leave you there, but after what you did for me there was no way in hell I was going to drag you down into my god awful mess, alright!? I never wanted you involved in any of this!”

“…”

“What do you want me to say dude? I’d fucking kill for you, alright? I’d die for you, and if you asked me to, I’d do any fucking thing, but there was no way in hell I was going to let you die on my crazy ass suicide mission that I didn’t even know was legit!”

“Just tell me, what the hell happened? What the fuck is it that’s got you doing… this?!”

“…I can’t… I can’t explain it…”

“…You’re kidding right?”

“No… I mean, I’m surrounded by Celesticorp retards, and you’re in a car full of mercs and killers. If it was just you and me, then fine I’d tell you, but as it is…”

Rebecca sighed on the other end. “Why didn’t you just tell me back then? Huh? If it’s so hard now, then why not explain shit back then?”

“Because back then I thought I was going nuts! I didn’t know if it was real, or what it had to do with me, and if I told you, then you’d have tried to help me.”

“…”

“Look… About the mess you’re in now.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! I didn’t know you were in Filly, I didn’t think the kid would be there, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have let them do that nanite drop if I knew you were going to get hit.”

“Whatever. What about this mess?”

“Look, that kid in the back?” Gilda watched as Rebecca glanced back at him. “He’s important. Keep him alive, kay? I’m gonna do what I can to help you out, but until I actually get down there with you guys, I can’t do much. There’s shit happening up here that I need to get involved in, but I swear first chance I get I’m coming south.”

“…”

“The kid’s important, not just to me but to… well, everyone. So are you. Both of you need to stay alive, alright? I’m not kidding dude. Keep yourself and him breathing. Everyone else in that car’s expendable as far as I know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not joking. You need to stay alive, and keep the kid safe too.”

“Why?”

“Urr… Look, I can’t explain it now. The kid’s basically a living stitch and you’re… well… Fuck. Just trust me you’re important too. Stay alive. I know that sounds obvious, but just trust me.”

“Okay…?” she sounded confused.

Gilda noticed that Clara was listening carefully, but continued anyway. No way in hell would she ever figure it all out. No one would. The truth was so bat shit crazy Gilda wasn’t sure why she believed it, even with everything she’d seen.

“Look, Rebecca… I know you. I know that you’re probably going to be spending a lot of time with those ladies, and you’re gonna have to work together and fight and stuff. And, I know that you get attached pretty easily, and that… loyalty… is what you do best. But I’m telling you, don’t trust those people. Don’t put your life on the line for them. They’ll stab you in the back or get you killed, and only you and the kid matter. Okay?”

“…No? You’re making no freaking sense.”

Gilda grit her jaw. “Look, just please please stay alive, and don’t trust any of them. I mean, if you have to rely on someone then Jack’s… straightforward? Eh, she won’t stab you in the back at least. She’s good at what she does, and she was only honest with me. Otherwise, don’t trust them or put your life on the line for any of them alright?”

“What?” Rebecca sounded confused. “You make it sound like I’m just gonna get myself killed.”

“Rebecca… remember your plan to save me? That’s the sort of shit I’m talking about. Crazy stupid stuff when the smart thing to do would be sit by and watch.”

Rebecca paused. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

Gilda snorted. “Yeah… Shit plan though. Look, just please don’t die for these people.”

“Why would I?”

Because you’re the element of loyalty. If you become friends with those people, then them getting hurt will hurt you just as bad as I did.

Gilda sighed and put her hand to her face.“Just don’t alright.”

“Whatever.”

“I have to go now.” Gilda paused. “But Rebecca?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.” With that Gilda hung up the phone. She turned to face Cadance. “Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Canterlot.”

Rebecca hung the phone up and frowned. What the fuck was that? She smashed her fist into the car’s dashboard. The thing didn’t break, so she snarled and hit it again. It took her a moment to notice that everyone else in the car was watching her.

She grit her jaw and leaned back in her seat. “You all heard that?” she asked.

Jack snorted. “A little hard not to.”

Rebecca’s lips twitched. “Fair enough.”

“The part of that that concerns me is where I’m expendable.” Rachel said aloud from the back.

Theresa didn’t comment, just leaning back and looking like she was thinking. Stupid four eyes.

The kid said something that made Rebecca smirk though. “Not a single part of that made any sense. Hell, it raised more questions than it answered. All we know now is it’s definitely the same Gilda that wants me.”

Theresa spoke after they’d driven in silence for a while. “So how do you know Gilda?”

Rebecca shrugged and grunted. It’s not like she had to answer.

In the corner of her eye she noticed Jack watching her. “What?”

Jack shrugged. “Nothin’. Just weird to think Gilda gave me a recommendation.”

Rebecca snorted. “Well, least likely to stab me in the back isn’t something you should really be proud of.”

Jack chuckled. “True enough.”

The thing that really got Rebecca was, Gilda was right. Hadn’t seen her for six years, and that shit she said about getting attached was still true. She’d already started to accept the situation before the phone call. Rebecca was a social creature; she might have pretended otherwise, but the idea of spending a few months with the same six people actually didn’t worry her. When you get people together like that, then friendship forms, bonds are made and by the end of it everyone knows everyone. Plus the idea of being on the run and hands on guns sounded kinda awesome. Honestly, this whole thing sounded right up her alley.

To have someone know you so well despite everything was… well, kinda unnerving and cool at the same time. Six years since she’d seen Gilda, and they still knew each other that well. Rebecca smirked. Even through all that, she couldn’t wait to see that ugly mug again.

She leaned forward to turn on the radio, but then noticed the empty spot where it should be. “Your car’s lame dude. Where’s the radio?”

“Extra weight, don’t need it.”

“You suck… Any idea how boring this is gonna be for three months?”

Jack shrugged. “Well look on the bright side. We ain’t gonna argue about which station.”

“How did the situation resolve?” Luna asked Gilda. “Do you have good news to report?”

“Yeah, good and bad,” Gilda answered and started to pace the black platform beneath her boots. “Well we got the kid. Spike’s on his way to Trotonto, and at the moment they haven’t got Luna Industries right on their tail. Of the six we conscripted, none of the seem like total dupes or dead weight, but one of them seems a bit crazy. Over all it’s the best we’ve got in a bad situation.”

“That is good. Who are the six?”

“Well, that’s where the problems start. Firstly, one of them’s Rebecca.”

Luna blinked. “As in your sister? Rainbow Dash, the Bearer of Loyalty?”

Gilda nodded. “Yeah.” She cracked a grin. “God, it’s still hard for me to believe she’s like this destiny’s chosen one or whatever.”

Luna smiled. “Well, with the hair and eye colour you describe, the voice and foolhardy heroics, I see no one else who could be her.”

“Yeah I know. Rebecca’s Rainbow Dash, but it’s just hard to think of her like that. But with nanites in her like that, she’s in Celesticorp’s hands.”

Luna sighed. “That is acceptable, though not ideal. We were planning on handing her over to my sister eventually, just not so soon.”

“Hey! We’re not handing Rebecca over to anyone.” Gilda jabbed a finger at Luna. “We were gonna get her in on this eventually, but if she didn’t want to, there was no way I’m handing her over.”

Luna sighed. “Yes, yes. Your concern is understandable, but she would have to go whether she wanted to or not. Regardless of our involvement, Celly would find her eventually.”

Gilda grit her jaw but didn’t comment. This was an old argument. “Whatever. The next of the six is Jack. I’ve told you about her, real badass. Good asset.”

“Her? I thought Jack was a stallion’s name in this world.”

“Normally yeah, but she calls herself Jack.” Gilda shrugged “I didn’t pick her name.”

Luna’s brow furrowed. “Applejack was the name of the Bearer of Honesty.”

Gilda blinked. “Shit, yeah you told me about that. Could it be her?”

Luna pursed her lips. “Maybe. Describe what you know of this Jack to me, and we shall see.”

“Uh… Tall, not quite as tall as me, blond, green eyes, freckles.” Gilda shrugged. “Thick accent. You know, the drawl.” She mimicked it for a second. “Says everythin’ lahk this.”

Luna nodded. “That matches Applejack, but blond manes were fairly common. Green eyes less so, but still not a rarity.” She paused. “What else? Is she particularly honest?”

Gilda shrugged. “I don’t know her well, but she never lied to me. Even after I stabbed her and tied her down.”

Luna nodded. “Well it is possible, maybe probable, that this is her. Jack may be Applejack. For now you should endeavour to keep her alive.”

Gilda nodded. “Alright. Next there’s a few that I didn’t recognise. Rachel, some pretty brunette.”

“That does not sound familiar.”

“Well, she had blue eyes and seems a bit upper crust to me.”

Luna thought about it. “Rarity is a possibility, but those shared attributes are quite thin.”

Gilda shrugged. “Well I don’t know about her skill set, but the file Cadance pulled up has her as private investigator or something. She was making good cash.”

Luna shook her head. “Well those attributes don’t link her any more strongly.”

“Next is Theresa. Nerdy, dark skin, black hair. Wears glasses. Cadance had her as a gun for hire, though she seemed to focus on work as a hitman.”

“Twilight was learnéd, but never wore glasses. Possible, but not probable.”

“There was someone named Philomena. Worked as merc, but I couldn’t see her face and she didn’t say anything. I can’t tell you a damn thing about her. She didn’t say anything really. Cadance’s file had her as a merc.”

Luna shrugged. “Well that could be anypony.”

“Last is Patricia. Giggled a lot. Had pink Deadlands hair and blue eyes. Cadance didn’t have a file on her.”

“That sounds like Pinkie Pie, the Bearer of Laughter. Anything else known about her?”

“No, she just giggled a lot. Seemed like a nut job to me.”

Luna sighed. “Well, we are certain Rebecca is Rainbow Dash, Jack is a likely candidate for Applejack, and the others have some connections. They were all six mares?”

Gilda had long gotten used to Luna’s pony terminology. “Yeah, the six of them are chicks, just like the elements. But isn’t it a bit of a stretch that all six bearers would be together in Fillydelphia just as we’re going after Spike?”

“I’ve long told you that destiny has a part to play, even in this world.”

Gilda snorted. “If you say so. I’m not about to doubt you now after everything, but you’re gonna have to sell me on the idea that they’re the Bearers.”

Luna shook her head. “I never said they were, just that it was possible.”

“I better go now. I don’t trust Cadance to not stick a syringe in my arm while I’m asleep.”

Luna nodded. “I find it hard to believe how what was once such a kind soul has become so…”

“Bitchy?” Gilda offered.

The horse smiled at her. “That may be appropriate. Take care my friend.”

“I always do.” Gilda said to her as she turned away.

“What of Neigh Orleans? Were you cautious then?”

“One time. I swear, one time and you’re suddenly that crazy tower destroyer.” Gilda said over her shoulder as she stepped off the platform.

Rebecca slept peacefully. Sure the road had been pretty bumpy, but with nothing better to do, and no more conversation going around, Rebecca found it easy to close her eyes and drift off for a quick nap. Her head was rested against the door and she’d curled up with her knees against her chest. Of course she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. Come on? Who does that anyway, right?

So when someone opened the door she was resting against, she fell out of the car and into the dust. Her hand immediately went for her gun.

“Get up, we’re here.”

Rebecca blinked and shielded her eyes from the midday sun. She noticed a hand extending towards her and she grabbed it before getting pulled to her feat. The pickup truck had stopped, and Jack had been the one that opened the door beneath her. Also the one who gave her a hand up.

“What are you, twelve?” she said to her, annoyed.

Jack shrugged. “Woke you up din’it?”

Rebecca scowled at the bounty hunter as she walked away. After a moment she stretched and yawned before taking a pair of black sunglasses from under her coat and putting them on. With her eyes shaded a bit from the bright glare, she looked around at the surrounding desert scrub and gave a little smile. It’d been years since she’d last seen the deadlands, and while most of the waste looked like the rest of it, this place was a lot closer to home than Filly had been.

Theresa was pushing the kid along in front of her, and he seemed to be bitching about it. Patricia was staring at Jack and fingering her sword with a smile on her face. Everyone else was just standing around Jack as she led them towards a concrete bunker. Rebecca followed after them, and examined the structure. It looked old, like it was built decades before the end of the world. The blocky grey concrete was sand bleached, and the heavy steel door was rusted.

Jack took out a heavy key and unlocked the door, letting everyone inside. Rebecca stepped in last, and Jack flicked a switch on the wall illuminating the room in dim yellow light. Rebecca took off her sunglasses, the room wasn’t as dark as it was outside.

“We ain’t gonna be here longer ‘an an hour,” Jack said to everyone. “There’s food an’ hot water.” She waved towards a sink and a cupboard. “Bathroom’s through there and a working shower. Hot water’s from the solar tank, so it’ll run out. This’ll be yer last chance to shower for who knows how long, so I suggest y’all enjoy it while you can.” She walked over towards another door. Yanking it open, she flicked another light switch on. “Armoury’s in here. See anything you like, feel free ta keep it. Ah’ve got a second car near here,” she reached inside the door and took out another pair of keys. “Might be best if we split between cars.” She shrugged. “Make ya’selves at home.”

Rebecca, Theresa and the really quiet girl that Rebecca had yet to catch her name, all made a beeline for the armoury. Jack stepped aside and let them past, but Rebecca took the keys out of her hands.

“I call dibs on the second driver.” Nobody bothered to fight her, so she pocketed the keys.

Inside the armory was a handful of iron shelves with boxes on them.

Rebecca snorted. “Gun maintenance isn’t really a big thing with you, is it?” she said as she opened a box and coughed at the dust. Inside was a bunch of ammo for a few different guns, so she left that on the floor and moved to another box.

Rebecca heard the creak of leather as Jack shrugged. “I never use much o’ this anyway. I just don’t want to throw it away or sell it.”

Rebecca snorted. “It’s better than just tossing them in a pile I guess.” She opened another box and whooped at the contents. “Sweet!” She began taking out handfuls of grenades and other explosives. “Dude, where’d you get, shit, this has gotta be at least ten pounds of C-4.”

Jack pulled another box of the shelf. “There’s more in this one. Ah don’t really know much ‘bout explosives so I just left it in here.”

Rebecca stared at her. “Dude, that’s… a really dumb thing to do. C-4’s pretty stable, but it’s still an explosive. If any of this went off then you’d be fucked.”

Jack shrugged. “Ah don’t spend much time here anyway.” She turned away. “Ah’m gonna go take first shower. Have fun, an’ put what you don’t want back on the shelves.”

Rebecca sighed and rolled her eyes. Still, terrible safety aside this was an awesome cache. By the time she was done, she had another pistol to match the one she had, some new parts to replace the old and damaged ones in her assault rifle, and a duffle bag loaded with high explosives. She was about to leave when she noticed a large black case against the back wall. She left the bag near the door and opened the case up.

Rebecca’s eyes lit up and a grin split her face. Inside the case was a deconstructed anti material rifle. The big sexy black machine sat there in pieces, begging her to take it out and put it together. She felt like a little girl unwrapping a doll as she sat cross legged in front of the case. The shiny black metal was cool to her touch, and the gun smirked back at her. A confident swagger as it eyed Rebecca up and down. It was ready for her touch, and calling her to bed. It shifted ever so slightly, and patted the sheets next to its head. Rebecca grinned as she held the .50 calibre round in her hand. The shiny metal glinted playfully in the sunlight, and begged her to slowly slide it into the tight confines of the magazine. It wanted company in there, to be pressed up against the other rounds in the intimate dark. It wanted to be ej-

The magazine and .50cal round were plucked out of her hands and placed back in the case. Rebecca only blinked in shock as the case was shut and taken away from her. It took her a second to realise that the quiet one with the grey mask on her face had taken it away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rebecca shouted as she stood up and went after her. “That’s my fucking gun you bitch!”

“Dibs,” The woman said quietly over her shoulder.

Rebecca froze. “That’s bullshit!” she shouted.

The woman didn’t answer her, just placed the case on a desk and sat down in the chair in front of it. She opened it, and with practised movements began examining each individual piece.

Rebecca growled and reached for her .45 when Rachel interrupted.

“Really, stop being so childish. It’s a gun, and if she made ‘dibs’ on it, then that’s the same as your claim to the car. She’s playing the game with the rules you made.”

Rebecca glared at her but didn’t respond. “Whatever,” she muttered as she sat at a different desk.

The room lapsed into awkward silence, except for the sound of the shower and the click of the anti-material rifle as the quiet girl worked on it.

As she sat there, Rebecca glanced around the room and started to observe the people in it. She’d already checked out the ladies in the car, and had dismissed them as either bitches or not hot. Theresa was about as sexy as a grease rag, and Jack was wearing that big heavy duster. Anyone who wore something like that wasn’t flaunting what they had, and so chances were they didn’t have anything to flaunt. Rachel was ten out of ten for sure, but so far she’d sounded like nothing but a Manehattan snob, and really, who needed that baggage? The two women she hadn’t checked yet were Patricia and the quiet one. The quiet one stole her gun, so fuck that noise. Patricia was sitting there busily sharpening one of her swords and staring at the bathroom door. Nuh uh. Sure she was pretty hot from what Rebecca could see, but no way was she touching that sack of crazy with anything other than a gun barrel.

“Hey, Patricia.”

She turned to Rebecca. “Hmm?”

“Any reason you want to kill Jack so bad?”

She blinked in confusion. “You don’t?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Not really. It isn’t her fault I got conscripted. I mean, she sort of saved my life.”

Patricia only looked more confused. “Why would I be angry about that, silly?”

“…What?”

“No. I’m not mad at her. She’s just the winner.”

Rebecca stared at her and repeated the question. “What?”

“You gotta play the winner silly.” Patricia said that while rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s good, and I can’t wait to play again.”

“Play what?” Rebecca asked incredulous. “Did she beat you at poker or something?”

Patricia giggled. “No. She won the game, silly billy.”

“The game?”

“Mmhm.” Patricia nodded. “I can’t wait to play with her again.”

Rebecca glanced over at Theresa and the kid, who were watching the exchange with looks just as confused as Rebecca felt.

Turning back to Patricia, Rebecca said slowly, “Sweetie, I think you’re a few bullets short a magazine.”

Patrica giggled. “Oh, I don’t have any bullets… or a magazine.” She tapped her chin. “…or a gun.” She added after a second.

Rebecca stood up. “Whatever. You’re insane.”

She giggled again. “Yeah, they always say that. Or that I’m loco, a lunatic, or a ‘bat shit loopy nut house psycho cunt’. But you know what they say about sticks and stones and how I can break your bones.” She shrugged. “In the end they’re the ones bleeding on the ground, and I’m the one laughing.”

Rebecca just stared at her for a second. She opened her mouth to speak, but in the end settled on, “What the fuck…?” as she stood up and turned away.

She walked to the bathroom door and opened it without thinking, her mind still on the disturbing conversation with Patricia.

Rebecca froze when she saw the sight through the door. The water cascading over her shoulders, and streaming down her well-toned body. The tight muscles in her back as she had her hands on her head, washing shampoo out of her hair. Her legs seemed to stretch down forever, and her firm hardened backside rippling with muscle as her feet shifted position. As Rebecca watched, Jack turned around and blinked in surprise seeing her standing there.

“Get out,” she ordered, pointing past Rebecca.

Rebecca only had eyes for her belly, hardened with years of work. Her eyes roved down her body, back to those awesome legs, before returning up to her chest. Her eyes settled back on Jack’s face, whose glare had hardened at being checked out so obviously.

Rebecca said the first thing that came to mind. “Nice.”

With a growl, Jack stepped forward from under the water and to her duster hanging on the wall. She reached under it, and a second later a knife was hurtling straight at Rebecca’s face. Rebecca ducked her head at the last second, and stumbled out the door just in time as a hatchet went flying through the frame. A second later the door was pulled shut from the inside and the sound of a lock turning in place was heard.

The room was silent and staring at Rebecca, as she stood there in shock. A second later a massive grin split her face and she turned to face the others.

“Dibs,” she told them with a smile.

Everyone stared at her with expression ranging from confusion, to disgust, to amusement.

“Seriously, that bitch is hot.” Rebecca sat at the table with a grin.

Patricia stood up and walked over to the hatchet that was buried in the wall. “I don’t get it,” she turned to Rebecca. “I thought you didn’t want to kill her. Why call dibs?” A frown marked her face. “I already told you she was mine.” After a moment she perked up. “Or we could both fight to see who gets to play her.”

Rebecca just stared at her for a second. “No, dude. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Patricia stared at her with her face twisted in confusion. After a second she brightened. “Oh! You want her like that?” she giggled. “Alright, but be careful. That girl is caaarraaazy!” she singsonged as she pulled the hatchet out of the wall.

Taking it by the grip, she frowned as she tried to twirl it around in her hands, but fumbled and almost dropped it. She went to the other end or the room and took out a sword with one hand and the axe with the other. With both weapons she started to practise with both, repeating movements and slashing at imaginary forces. Her frown only deepened as she tried more and more. She paused and scowled at the axe in her hand.

“How does she fight with you?” she demanded from it.

The sound of the door opening made everyone turn around, and Jack stepped out fully dressed. Rebecca grinned. She could hide under that duster and hat if she wanted, but you can never really unsee anything, especially when it’s something as hot as that.

Jack took her hatchet back from Patricia and slid it under her coat. Her glare settled on Rebecca, but that only made the girl’s grin widen. After a second of that, Jack turned to the others.

“Showers open. Ah suggest you use it while you got the chance.” She glanced back at the unashamedly happy Rebecca. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

“Hah!” Rebecca said. “As if you wanted that door locked.” She winked. “Bet you were just begging for someone to open it.”

Jack snorted. “Ah’m not used to company out here. It slipped my mind.”

“Lonely, eh?” Rebecca draped her arm over Jack’s shoulder. “There’s a cure for that.”

Rebecca doubled over in pain as a fist slammed into her kidney, and her arms was jerked behind her back. “Ow-ow-ow….” She repeated as the pain in her shoulder increased as Jack applied more pressure. “Let go, let go, let go.”

“Jack.” Theresa’s voice rang out. “She’s a good shot, and she’ll need both her arms.”

After a moment, Rebecca heard Jack snort and she stumbled forward as her arm was released. She turned around massaging her shoulder and saw Jack glaring at her.

Rebecca grinned again. “Wouldn’t want to hurt my arm now would you? Not when there’s so much more awesome stuff you can do with it.”

Jack’s eyebrow turned up in confusion.

Rachel spoke out. “Well sexual assault aside... If no one objects, I think I might have the next shower.” No one complained as she stepped through the door and closed it behind her, the lock clicking into place.

“Jack, do you have a map?” Theresa asked from across the room.

Jack paused from glaring at Rebecca to glance back at her. “Yeah, why?”

“Because we’re going to need a plan.” She replied. “We have an hour at best till Luna Industries mounts an effective response.”

Jack nodded. “True enough, but with their satellite tracking and helicopter there’s no way in hell we can outrun ‘em or shake ‘em. And I ain’t even gonna joke about our chances in a long fight.”

Theresa nodded. “That’s why we need to plan this out carefully. You mentioned that you have a second vehicle?”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “In case of emergencies. It’s a bit of a ways, so if Rebecca wants it she’s gonna have to walk for it.”

“Lame.” Rebecca called from her seat. “Walking’s for when you don’t have a car.”

Jack just shook her head in disgust. “Anyway,” she glanced up at Theresa. “Why, what are you thinking?”

Theresa pursed her lips. “Does anyone here know explosives?”

“Hells yeah, I do.” Rebecca leaned back in her chair. “Why? We setting a trap?”

“How well do you know them?” Theresa asked, casting a judgemental eye over her. “What sort of training do you have?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I’ve set off more bombs than I care to count. Look, I know my shit okay? What do you want to blow up?”

Theresa ignored her and turned back to Jack. “Is this bunker very important to you?”

Jack crossed her arms. “Not really, but who put you in charge anyway?”

Theresa shrugged. “No one did. But, we need a plan, I have one, and unless you or someone else can come up with a better one, I see no reason not to go through with it. We’ll need to call up Celesticorp to make sure they’re okay with us separating temporarily, but I believe we can shake off Luna Industries’ satellite watch, if they have any, take away our immediate pursuers, and get ourselves a potential two day head start on the next wave of pursuers.”

“Umbrage,” Patricia interrupted with a frown.

“Yes?” Theresa turned to her.

Patricia blinked in surprise and turned to face Theresa. “Oh. Nothing. Just, Umbrage is from the Latin: umbrāticus. It means ‘in the shadow’.”

Theresa shrugged. “And?”

“And what? I just thought that was worth mentioning.”

Theresa shook her head and turned back to the table. “Jack. A map please.” She took off her glasses and began to clean them as the bounty hunter placed a map on the table. She put the glasses back on and frowned at the map. “Okay, so does anyone here have any sniper training?”

“Me again.” Rebecca put her hand up. “Yeah I know. Awesome marksmen and blow stuff upperer. I’m kinda like the ultimate badass.”

Jack glanced at her. “You’re not much for hand to hand.”

Rebecca shrugged. “Kung Fu gimmicks. Stupid and a waste of time when I can just…” she drew her pistol and pulled the trigger, causing the guns to click. She frowned and turned it over in her hand. “Oh damn, left the safety on. It’s so much cooler when there’s the shot to go with it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Left the safety ‘on’?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yeah, who needs it?” She pointed her fingers at her eyes. “This is my safety.”

The stupid kid totally ruined how awesome that would’ve been. “I saw that in a movie once. You’re just quoting one liners.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. Bloody kid.

Theresa shook her head. “So you do know how to handle sniper rifles?”

“Heck yeah. I wouldn’t lie about that shit. My longest range kill, and that’s confirmed kill, I checked the corpse when I was done, is one point five kilometres.” She smiled. “For those in the room that aren’t totally awesome, that’s totally awesome.”

“Two kilometres.” The quiet lady with the covered face spoke up.

Rebecca glanced at her. “What?”

“Two kilometres. Confirmed kill.” She kept her eyes on the .50 calibre before her, a brush cleaning out the gun barrel. “My best.” Her voice was soft and whispery, like she didn’t use it much and was unused to speaking.

Rebecca blinked. “Bullshit.”

She didn’t answer. She just continued to work on the deconstructed anti material rifle.

Everyone stared at her.

Rebecca walked towards her. “Seriously? Two K’s? Who the hell are you anyway?”

She didn’t answer at first. Her head stayed facing the rifle, the metallic pieces reflected in her sunglasses. Any expression she had was hidden behind her grey face wrap. The dark hoodie pulled over her head only further obscured her features. On her hands were fingerless gloves, and the Kevlar jacket she wore hid any figure she might have had. Looking at her, Rebecca realised she knew nothing about this woman other than she could handle a gun.

After a moment she spoke. “I’m Philomena.” Her voice cracked when she said her name, and it almost sounded like she was unsure what she was supposed to say.

“Yeah, and? How the hell did you get a two K confirmed kill?” Rebecca crossed her arms. “Are you like, an assassin or something?”

Philomena didn’t answer other than a tiny shake of her head.

“Well?” Rebecca waved her hand. “Who the hell are you?”

Theresa stepped in front of her. “Rebecca, I need you to talk to Gilda for me.”

Rebecca frowned and took a step back. “What? Why?”

“Because we might need to separate, and I don’t want her killing us for deserting. She’s more likely to trust you then she is me.” Theresa turned to Jack. “Give Rebecca your phone.”

Jack frowned. “Ah don’t even know what your plan is, let alone whether Ah agree to it.”

“I don’t really have a plan yet,” Theresa told her. “I’m still learning what we have to work with and the details need to be ironed out, but the fact is Luna Industries has five satellites, or at least that’s what Celesticorp believes. Three of those are set in permanent positions over the contested areas of the deadlands, one of them is set to watch Trotonto, and only one of them keeps an eye on Manehattan and Fillydelphia. Given the low priority activity of that region, it’s safe to assume that that satellite is tracking us currently. Until we can get out of that satellite’s view, or take it out somehow, we’re going to be constantly pursued.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “Ah know they got a satellite tracking us, but what’s your plan to deal with it?”

“We need to split up. They’re not going to be able to tell which of us have the kid if we hide him inside a heat proof duffle bag. All they’ll know is one car with four of us is heading one way, and three or at least two of us are staying behind. They can either track whoever drove away, or keep focused on the bunker. That’s where your second car comes in, we use the explosives to destroy the first pursuing force that’s gonna check out the bunker, and then Rebecca and whoever else stays behind can use your second car to meet up with us again at...” Theresa pursed her lips. “Does anyone have any contacts in a populated area north of here? The largest settlement is Reinsville, so we can easily lose the satelite among the crowd there.”

No one answered her for a moment.

“No one?” Theresa looked at the group and sighed, taking off her sunglasses and rubbing her eyes. “Jack? You work this area.”

Jack shook her head. “I’ve got contacts there, but not people who’ll stick with me now that Ah’m mixed up in this mess. We’re hot property now, and no one’s gonna touch us other than to hand us over.”

Theresa sighed and rolled up her map. “In any case, we can work that out later. First thing’s first we need to contact Gilda and-”

Just then Jack’s phone rang, and the cowgirl paused to answer it.

“Jack,” she answered. After a moment, the bounty hunter frowned and pushed a button before putting the phone on the table.

“Sup bitches,” the phone said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Theresa glanced at Jack, before looking at the phone. “Gilda?”

“The one and only, and thank fuck for that,” The phone replied. “I was overhearing your plan there Sparks and-”

“Who?” Rebecca interrupted.

There was the sound of sigh on the other end. “Sorry, Theresa. I was listening in on Theresa’s plan and-”

“How?” Rebecca asked.

“Uh... shit. Jack hasn’t told you?” Gilda replied.

“Told me what?” Rebecca crossed her arms.

“Well... basically thanks to the nanites we can see and hear everything you can.” After a second she added. “Also monitor your smell, but nobody cares about that.”

“You’re kidding me right?” Rebecca growled. “What if I have to piss or jerk off?”

Patricia glanced over at Applejack and smiled. “She’s talking about you.”

Jack just glared at her.

There was a pause on the other end. “Uh... want me stop them watching or something?”

After a second Rebecca answered. “I... guess?”

There was a pause on the other end before Gilda’s voice rang out loudly but slightly muffled. “Alright listen up everyone. New rule. If any of you watch while Rebecca jerks off, I cut your balls off. Capiche? And if you’re a chick then... I dunno. Rebecca'd probably just like that anyway.”

“No I wouldn’t!” Rebecca burst out. “Fuck that!”

“Oh sorry,” Gilda replied to her before she shouted away from the phone again. “The rule now applies to everyone. Anyone, guy or girl, that watches Rebecca when she doesn’t want to be watched is getting fucked by Greg.”

Rebecca noticed Jack wince and suck air through her teeth as she subconsciously rubbed her scarred forearm.

Gilda continued. “For those of you who don’t know, Greg’s my giant curved knife.” There was a pause. “No I’m not joking. Yes, Cadance. His name is Greg.” There was another pause and the phone sounded closer to Gilda’s mouth. “You okay with that?”

“Not really... but thanks.”

“No problem.” Gilda answered cheerfully. “Any of you other girls want the same? I won’t fuck ‘em with Greg, but I could break an arm or a leg or something.”

Patricia giggled. “Oh, I don’t care if they watch, but if you want to break a leg I don’t mind.”

There was a pause. “Okaaay... anyway. The reason I rung up was your plan about avoiding the satellite coverage. Sparks- ...ugh. Sorry, I meant Theresa. Look, the point is your plan is solid, and I don’t mind you guys splitting up, but there is some shit we gotta straighten out right here.”

“Such as?” Theresa asked.

“Well, Rebecca and the kid-”

“My name is Spike, or Samuel! It’s not hard.”

The phone went silent for a moment. “Listen kid, here the things: I don’t give a shit about you. Beyond keeping you alive, I couldn’t care less if you get fucked up the ass by my boss’s horn.”

Rebecca frowned. “Dude, that’s a bit harsh. You had the kid kidnapped, the least you can do is be nice about it.”

There was another pause. “Whatever. The point is, shut the fuck up kid. Got it?”

Spike glared hatred at the phone. “You’re a bitch.”

“... Someone want to slap him for me?”

Patricia shrugged and cuffed him over the ear.

“Ow!” Spike shouted and rubbed his ear. “You didn’t have to do it!”

“Anyway!” Gilda was starting to sound frustrated. “All of you! Keep Rebecca and the kid alive. If either of them die, I’m hitting the switch and killing the lot of you. Except for Rebecca.”

“Escort missions?” Patricia grumbled. “Those are never fun.”

No one paid her any attention.

“Everyone get me?” Gilda asked.

There was a silence.

“I said, does everyone understand me?”

After a few moment there was a chorus of mumbled agreement.

“Good. Now, back to your plan. There’s just a few problems with it, but those are basic things I can help you out with. So, Theresa, grab a map, everyone gather round, shut your mouths and listen up. Big sis Gilda is gonna lay out the plan, and you’re all gonna follow it.”

Clara watched Gilda out of the corner of her eye, but most of her attention was set on the phone by her ear.

“Yes, Ma’am,” she replied. “I’m aware of the consequences of my actions, but I was instructed to use whatever means were necessary, and it was a particularly bad situation.”

“That it was. You did the best you could with what you have to work with. Things could easily have gone worse.” The CEO spoke into Clara’s ear. “What about Gilda? Anything of interest to report?”

Standing up from the desk, Clara watched the back of Gilda’s head as the large woman chatted on the phone. “She’s... interesting.”

There was a small chuckle over the line. “Well, that much was obvious.”

“Sorry Ma’am. I mean to say that after interviewing the soldiers who fought alongside her, she definitely has enhanced capabilities.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, definitely. As a combatant she has training that matches or exceeds that of our own extraction teams, and she easily accounted for more kills than any two men put together on that operation. We’ve yet to really see her limits, but all my men agree that she possesses superior senses than our own.”

The sound of turning pages was heard over the line. “Any new clues as to who she’s working for?”

“No Ma’am, but she still consistently refers to me as Cadance, and you as Celestia.”

“And what about this Rebecca? Do you think she has something to do with this?”

Clara frowned. “I’m not certain. Gilda seems to think she’s important, but she also seems highly attached to her.”

“Could we use her as leverage?”

“Definitely, but... honestly, I’m not sure if we could control her if anything were to happen to Rebecca.”

“Well the idea of a threat is you never have to use it.”

“I agree Ma’am, but... I think we should hold off on that as a last resort. I’m uncertain, but I suspect Gilda is more... perhaps not intelligent, but I suspect she knows more and is better connected than we’ve previously believed.”

As Clara watched, Gilda hung up her phone and walked away from the edge of camp, and into the mess cabin.

There was another pause from the other end. “Any suspicions as to how a biker from the Deadlands acquired enhanced capabilities and extreme combat training?”

“... I have an idea, but it may be a little... far fetched.”

“This whole situation is far fetched, I doubt your theory is any more so. ”

Clara hesitated before saying, “I believe she may have been... brainwashed.”

“...Why?”

“Well, while sleeping her mouth moves. It’s as if she’s making conversation. I’ve been learning to read lips, but I do not understand what she’s saying. She only mouths snippets of a complete conversation. Never the whole thing, and what I do understand is... strange to say the least.”

“How so?”

“Well, the word ‘Luna’ is common, but also ‘Rainbow Dash’, ‘Gryphon’, and a few other seemingly random phrases keep coming up. Something about ‘Elements’ and ‘Equestrians’. I suspect these are implanted suggestions in her mind. I doubt she truly knows who she’s taking orders from.”

There was another pause. “That’s plausible, but unlikely. Gilda seemed far too sane and logical to me for someone that would have to have had their mind completely broken and built up again for that kind of implanting.”

“As I said, it’s just a theory.”

“Alright, that’s enough for now, but keep me posted.”

“Of course.”

“I don't need to tell you how important this could be. Do not mess it up.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh, and Clara. I noticed that Theresa Umbrage was one of the mercenaries conscripted.”

Clara winced and sat down. “Yes.”

“She’s not going to be a problem is she?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good. We would not want a repeat of last time, would we?”

Clara shivered. In her mind the sound of an empty click echoed. “No, Ma’am.”

“Good,” and with that the phone hung up from the other end.

With a sigh, Clara hung the phone up at the receiver and stepped out of the office. As she left the cool of the air conditioned cabin for the heat of the Deadlands sun, she felt a small growl in her stomach as her body complained about a lack of breakfast.

She made her way to the hall she covered her eyes as a transport helicopter took off and kicked dust into the air. All around her, the Canterlot base camp was in a flurry. Soldiers jumping into helicopters and moving, intelligence personnel running from cabin to cabin clutching reports and phones. Clara had only been here a few times, but it hadn’t changed at all. Same hasty constructions, same busy flurry of activity day or night, and the exact same god awful stifling heat.

It was a relief when she stepped inside the mess hall, and the cool air conditioned air blew over her. The air moving against her damp sweaty skin was a particularly refreshing sensation.

She absentmindedly cut ahead of several people that were lined up, and thanks to her rank no one called her out on it despite a few grumbled of irritation.

When she sat down, Clara had a cool drink of lemonade and a nice enough salad to match it. Today really wasn’t a day for warm foods. Just as she was about to eat, the entire table shifting interrupted her, and she looked up to see Gilda sitting down across from her.

The two stared at eachother for a moment, until Gilda shoved a plate across the table at Clara.

“Eat it,” she ordered with a glare and growl.

Clara blinked in surprise and looked down at the plate piled up with three steaks. “Pardon?”

“I said, eat it.” Gilda repeated and Clara swallowed in fear as a Greg was drawn from his sheath and placed on the table.

“Why?” Clara asked in genuine confusion.

“Because, someone spiked it with nanites.” Gilda leaned forward and lowered her head to Clara’s level. “And I think I know who.”

Clara blinked in surprise and glanced down at the food, before she looked up at Gilda with her eyes wide. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Uh-huh,” Gilda said flatly.

Clara poked the steak in confusion. “How... how do you know it’s been injected with nanites?”

Gilda’s nose twitched, and she took the steak back. She gave the meal a hearty sniff before she glowered at it. “There are nanites in it.”

Clara blinked in surprise. “Did... you just smell it?”

“If you wanted to poison me you should have mixed it in with some booze. The alcohol’d mask the smell better.” Gilda glowered at it for a second longer before she shrugged and pulled the meal towards her again. She took the steak from the top of the pile and moved it to the side of the plate. She smelled the one beneath it, and the one beneath that again.

Clara looked around the room, scanning for anyone with an interest in Gilda’s food. Her eyes came to a rest on... one of the soldiers who’d been on the mission in Canterlot.

“Gilda, I didn’t spike your food.”

The only response was a grunt, and Clara looked across to see Gilda eating.

Blinking in surprise, Clara looked back over at the soldier who was leaning back with a relaxed smile on his face.

“I thought you said it was spiked with nanites?” Clara asked.

“It is, but it’s damn tasty. God, it’s been fucking ages since I’ve had a good steak.” Gilda replied before she washed the meal down with a swig of orange juice.

“Are you insane!” Clara knocked the glass out of her hand. “Someone now has you as an asset!”

Gilda snorted dismissively. “Why do you care?”

“Because we’re working together you fool! I need you in good health for this!”

Gilda just rolled her eyes. “Whatever, dude.”

Seething in frustration, Clara growled. “You just sold your life away for the taste of steak.”

Gilda just leaned back in her chair. “What do you know about ponies?”

“...What?”

“You heard me.”

“What has that got to do with anything?!”

“Forget about it. Listen, I need a favour.” Gilda’s demeanor changed, and Clara found herself surprised at the sudden switch from casual disinterest, to focussed on business. Regardless she tried to maintain her outwardly cool demeanor.

“Of course that will have to depend on the favour.”

Gilda just snorted. “Nothing like that. I just want you to see if you can find someone for me.”

That perked Clara’s interest. “Who?”

“Princess Luna.”

Clara blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”

Gilda looked Clara straight in the eye. “I need you to see if you can find anyone on your system called Princess Luna.”

“Is that an Alias?”

Gilda shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

Clara frowned at her. “Who is she?”

Gilda sighed. “You’ll know that when you find her.”

“Well I’m probably gonna need some better information to go with than just a potential code name.”

Gilda sat there for a minute thinking about it. “Well, I dunno. I don’t really have much more than that. Nothing that you could use anyway. I mean... does the Mare in the Moon mean anything to you?”

Clara slowly shook her head.

Gilda sighed. “Ever get the feeling you’re being used?” she asked, looking tired.

“I work for Celesticorp. Of course I do.”

Snorting in response, Gilda just took another drink. “Uh... maybe puns? Like, shit to do with night time. The moon, the stars, the sky and dreams and crap like that. Like, maybe something like ‘Starry Eyed’ or something. She could be hiding with that.”

Clara frowned. “That’s still not a lot to go on.”

“I know,” Gilda muttered annoyed. “Horse puns maybe?”

“Horse puns?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Everything’s a horse pun. That’s nothing to go with.”

Clara blinked in surprise. “Everything’s a horse pun?”

Gilda nodded. “Yeah, dude. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Trotonto, Neigh Orleans. Actually, you ever been to that place? I’m telling you, Neigh Orleans is sick, man. You should totally go there.”

Clara frowned. “Not everything can be a horse pun. Appleoosa for example.”

Gilda shrugged. “It’s still a pattern. You’re telling me you never noticed it before?”

Clara didn’t answer, still going over the wealth of towns and settlements she knew of.

After sitting in silence for a while, Gilda glanced at Clara like she was sizing her up. She leaned in closer . “Hey, have you ever noticed how... wrong, this world is?”

Clara blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Gilda tapped her fingers on the table as though trying to think up her point more clearly. “I mean... how did the world end?”

Clara just stared at her.

“Like, everywhere you go there’s these ruins and shit. You take one look around, and you know that civilisation used to be here, and it collapsed. But... how’d that happen? I mean, the world can’t have always been desert and stitch mutations.”

“What does the end of the world have to do with anything?”

“I mean, nobody can tell you how it happened. Was it bombs, or plague or meteorite or what? Could it happen again? I’m telling you, the entire world it’s like... history just started happening fifty odd years ago. Before that’s just this vague, ‘yeah shit happened,’ and since then is when someone actually started caring.”

Clara didn’t answer for a moment. She opened her mouth to argue, when she closed it again.

“And also... who names a world, ‘Badworld’? I mean, was this place always shit?”

Again Clara couldn’t think of a very good answer.

“And what about the corporations? Celesticorp and Lunar Industries. How did they start up? I mean, were they always there? Did they just survive whatever happened happening?”

They sat there in silence for a minute, Clara pondering what she’d been asked.

After a moment Gilda sat back and shrugged. “Food for thought.” A knowing smirk came onto her face. “Just think about it.”

Clara agreed with a slow nod. She looked at Gilda, her mind going back to the puzzle this bald tattooed superhuman represented. “Did you notice this yourself, or was it pointed out to you by your... employer?”

Gilda raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t getting paid for this.”

“Well, who do you work for then?”

Gilda shrugged. “Everyone.”

Clara blinked in surprise.

“Making the world a better place.” Gilda grinned at Clara’s confusion. “Why? What were you expecting?”

“You’re an idealist?” Clara frowned.

Gilda snorted. “Fuck no. More like... devoted.”

Devoted? “To... who? To what?”

She shrugged again. “The magic of friendship and family.”

Clara blinked again. “You’re not working alone. You’re getting intel from someone.”

“Somepony,” Gilda mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Is it really that hard to believe I’m working alone?”

“...”

Gilda snorted. “Yeah, I’m not smart enough, right? You think I’m just some thug with a gun.”

“I didn’t-”

Gilda leaned closer again. “Listen, Cadance. There’s a reason I’m not dead, and it’s not because I’m lucky. I’m not a genius or any kind of shit like that, but I wouldn’t have survived long if I was a complete fucking retard. So don’t you go thinking you can get the jump on me that easily. Try it, bitch. Play the cards and see if your hand beats mine.”

To her eternal credit, Clara managed not to flinch away. “Right, well this has been... interesting.” She stood up and after a second added. “And if you want to not die, you better get the other half of the nanites from that soldier over there.”

Gilda waved a disinterested hand and kept eating.

Clara blinked in surprise and checked her watch. “You should have had the warning seizure by now. Unless there weren’t really nanites in there.”

“No they were in there.” Gilda replied as she tapped the untouched steak from the top of the pile and continued eating. “Soldier over there, right?” She jerked her head in his direction. “He’s been watching me the entire time.”

Clara nodded absently and wondered who had conscripted Gilda. She frowned and checked her watch again, before glancing at Gilda.

She just calmly sat there, eating her steak until there was only one left. With the one piece of meat left, Gilda left the table. Clara watched from a distance as Gilda approached the man who’d watched her. She stood in front of him for a moment with her free hand out, and after a second he handed over a syringe to her. From the distance Clara recognised the silvery liquid as nanite injection.

Holding it up for a second, Gilda examined the substance before she grabbed the man by the throat and injected it into his eye. Clara cringed and watched in open mouthed horror as the man screamed and batted the needle out of Gilda’shand, but not after half of it was empty. The needle shifted out of position still partially inside him, and his eye tore open further. He writhed and screamed on the floor as he clutched his newly bleeding eye, and reached for his gun.

Not before Gilda’s boot broke his hand.

She leaned down close to him, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. She whispered something to him before she dropped the last steak on his chest and walked away.

The entire cafeteria watched in surprise as Gilda left, and the man put his hand to his chest and shouted in pain as the nanite warning seizures set in. He quickly began scarfing down the food Gilda had left him, blood from his wounded eye mixing with the meal. With that done, he collapsed to the ground groaning and clutching his eye.

Clara hesitated before running outside after Gilda. The biker showed no signs of discomfort or even irritation as she walked through the streets towards her lodging. When Gilda stepped inside, Clara hesitated before walking to her door and peeking through the window.

She flinched back as the door opened.

“Something you want, Cadance?” Gilda asked with a frown.

“...No.” Clara looked her up and down. Nothing. No signs of pain or discomfort from being ingesting nanites. “How did you know which steak was poisoned? Human’s can’t-”

“Human’s can’t what?” Gilda stepped out of the doorway towards her intimidatingly. “Piss off Cadance.”

Clara only hesitated for another second before she turned and walked away. Well that was something to report to the C.E.O.

Rebecca had prepared for this moment very carefully, positioning herself and Jack hundreds of metres away from the bunker, just close enough to the explosion to feel that awesome shock wave, but not close enough to suffer internal bleeding and braced so she wouldn’t get blown off her feet . Oh yeah, this was the moment. Hours of preparation came down to this one beautiful point in time.

Bracing herself, Rebecca grinned as she flipped the safety cap off the detonator. She loved this part, absolutely loved this part. The mere moments before the bomb went off. The tension thick in the air and that small question of whether or not it would work. That fraction of a chance that the chemicals wouldn’t react, a wire wouldn’t carry a current or a stray dust particle had somehow undone an hour’s hard work. For Rebecca it was deeply satisfying to press that big red button.

The explosion was huge. The bunker completely came apart, buckling from the inside out, chunks of concrete launched in all directions. The people inside were killed instantly, not enough left to fill a jam jar, a whole human being reduced to its base components in less than a second. The grey dome of dust particles travelled into the sky, blotting out the sunset for a few a minutes.

Then the shockwave hit Rebecca and all these thoughts ended. Braced as she was, she wasn’t knocked off her feet unlike Jack who was completely unprepared for it. All coherent thought and observation ended for a few seconds. Then she came back to real life and felt a hit of adrenaline slam into her. This was the best part of all, the few seconds after the explosion when all she could do was feel that buzz flow through her system.

Jack sat up, her hat fallen over her eyes as she worked air back into her lungs, that fall having knocked it all out. “Did ya’ll know it was gonna be that big?” she asked between gasps of air.

“Hell Yeah!” Rebecca pumped a fist into the air. It felt good so she did it again. “Hell the fuck yeah!” Rebecca screamed slamming her fist upwards.

Standing up Jack readjusted her hat so it wasn’t covering her eyes. “Why’d ya have us so damn close?” she asked critically

“That’s what I live for!” Rebecca was pacing back and forth, the adrenaline in her system not allowing her to stand still any longer. “That moment, that-that, THUD! Right when it hits you!”

“Are ya’ll insane?” Jack asked.

Rebecca slammed both fist into the air again “YES!” screamed at the sky.

Jack rubbed her eyes wearily and looked across at Rebecca angrily. “Why the hell did Ah have to get partnered with you?”

“Next time it’s gonna be bigger, louder, brighter, it’s just gonna be so fucking awesome! I can’t wait for you to see it!”

“Next time we won’t be so darn close,” Jack said loudly enough for Rebecca to hear.

Rebecca didn’t appear to notice her. “That was the perfect spot, just close enough but not too close.”

“Ah might dispute that.” Jack stood next to Rebecca watching the cloud of dust start to settle. Pulling out her phone, Jack tapped in Theresa’s new phone number.

The phone didn’t have time to ring once before it was answered. “Jack?”

Jack coughed out some more dust again. “Yeah it’s me.”

The voice responded, “Did it work?”

“Yep. We got the whole team.”

The voice paused. “Are you sure?”

Rebecca turned to Jack. “That her?”

Jack waved her hand at Rebecca in an irritated way. “Yeah, came in a bunch of cars, they all went in and they all blew up, definitely not the most elite bunch of mercenaries ah ever saw. Ah think these guys were the dupes we were s’posed ta take down and the better ones are headed your way.”

“What makes you say that?” asked the voice on the other end.

Rebecca was reaching for the phone. “Ask her if she saw it go off!”

Jack rolled her eyes as she fended away Rebecca’s hand. “They didn’t storm in or nothin’, they just sorta rushed through the door without taking the time to check things out. Believe me Ah know the difference between a deadly man and dead one.”

“Alright. Neither of you were wounded?”

Rebecca stopped trying to grab the phone and just resorted to grinning at Jack.

Jack glared back at her. “No, we’re both fine.”

“We’ll meet back up then.”

“Where at?” Jack asked, still glaring at Rebecca.

The sound of paper shuffling came through the phone “Alright, so you can get to Reinsville?”

“Yeah, easily. Assuming we don’t run into anyone else.” Jack started walking back towards the spot they’d hidden the truck.

Rebecca followed her. “Where are we going?”

Theresa said, “Alright, we’ll meet there,” and hung up.

Jack returned the phone to her pocket and kept walking towards the truck.

“Where are we going?” Rebecca repeated.

“The truck.” Jack stated the obvious quite deliberately.

“Okay...” Rebecca said, getting quite fed up with being ignored. “Where are we going in the truck.”

“A place nearby.”

“What place?” Rebecca asked, getting exasperated.

Jack ignored her and kept walking.

Rebecca cracked a grin as an idea came to mind. “Oh, a little quiet time for the two of us?”

Jack turned to glare at Rebecca.

The grin widened and Rebecca could see Jack’s jaw tighten even more, and she loved it. Jack did look really hot when she was angry and Rebecca was having a lot of fun pushing her buttons.

Arriving at the truck in silence and Jack climbed in the driver’s seat . Getting another great idea, Rebecca followed and started to climb over her to get to the passenger’s side.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jack asked angrily.

“Just getting in the passenger seat.”

“There’s a door for that.” Jack sounded very annoyed.

Shrugging, Rebecca pulled herself the rest of the way in before Jack had the chance to push her out and was careful on the way to brush her arm against Jack’s chest and face. Awkwardly shifting into the passenger seat in the tight confines of the car, Rebecca couldn’t help but notice the irritated glare she was receiving and had no choice but to return it with a smile. Finally seated properly, Rebecca fiddled with the seatbelt, deliberately taking her time.

“Are yah done?” Jack asked in a dry tone.

Fixing up the seatbelt Rebecca turned to Jack. “Yep,” she said cheerily.

Turning the keys in the ignition, Jack faced the windscreen and shifted the car into gear and hit the accelerator.