Author's Note

The difference between a laser pistol and a laser rifle is not the stock. A laser rile has three beams, micrometers apart. Whereas the laser pistol model has a single beam, which is prone to warpage and overheating. The contrasting laser rifles cause the devastating effects on their target, increasing durability and damage for in mass deployment. The major advantage of laser pistols is their range, thus they were the weapon of choice for officers during the Great War.

Conflict creates infrastructure~~ [Arc 2]

Before his emerald eyes is a rusty sign. The green background has faded to nearly white, yet the lettering is completely clear. Even as the scent of saltwater invades his nose, he reads out the name of this place: Joint Base Elemenhoof. Blackened trees and wire fencing with signs every few meters often proclaiming a myriad of defenses, stretch on for miles, each way from the gate before him. The signal had brought him here, its signal strong and never changing. Somewhere just west of his position would be the nearest relay.

Flying above the fencing is not an option. If this base is anything like Adam’s Air Force Base, then turrets will be plentiful. The very real prospect of being shot out of the air is quite frighting to him. Without something like a stealth suit, flight is an inadvisable action. Without operational support, fighting his way into the heart of a military base would be akin to walking out the front door of vault eighty seven: Suicidal.

While his nose withstands the barrage of salt and decay, his eyes scan past the chain link fencing. Buildings and streets, decaying paint and burnt woods, empty window pains and withered bushes. Fresh tracks in the muddy paths, casing littler the ground, fresh on top of the mud. The gate before him is old, red with rust. The gatehouse lay hidden behind sandbags pilled against fencing.

With a confident step, he begins his latest explorations. The immediate goal is to find a way to get any active security to not fire upon detection. He trots up to the exterior building. The breeze of his passing disturbs the leaky sandbags. The scent of decay overtakes the distant saltwater. His eyes pearling for protection, he marches forward to the gatehouse. Built low to the ground, the paint is faded like the sign behind him. Sickly and pale, rusted hinges and a missing latch.

With a grunt and a screech the door swings inward. His eyes adjust the darker interior momentarily. Glancing inwards, the room feels very simplistic. Bare even. There is a single occupant, still performing the same task as centuries ago. Sitting at her desk, waiting for the next soul to enter. Letting loose a breath he held from the door's screech, the skeleton shifts from the attentive stance down to a rag doll on the floor.

Walking further into the office, he kneels down to desk worker. Still clad in her fatigues, her dedication is inspiring to him. Awkwardly shuffling through his pockets for something, anything to pay his respects to this valiant patriot. Trifling through his pockets only find scraps and caps. For a moment he thought of leaving her his few Nuka Cola Quantum caps, only to realize that some scavenger would likely take the currency without a second thought.

Aspiring to return later, he begins searching the room. Starting with her desk, which was professionally clear with one exception. Just off center on the desk is a old envelope with a familiar pink face stamped in the top left. Were it not for her face, he wouldn’t touch it in respect of its recipient. But that false cheer smile doesn’t let him go, and before he realizes it he is gingerly trying to open it. After fumbling around with his hooves, he resorts to his teeth. Expecting a poor taste, his grimace turns to a smile as the berry taste is surprising.Moving onto the contents of the envelope, it quickly unfolds into a shot memorandum.

Dear Coco,

It really has been too long since we last spoke, hasn’t it? I really do miss your company, but you have to understand why I was suck a poor friend at the time. I am under a tremendous amount of pressure right now, and I’m afraid I need to ask a favor from you. I have a, I guess he is more of a close associate than a friend, but I really think we’ll make such good friends when we meet up. If you would be so kind as to make sure he gets the visiting Ministry of Morale inspector pass. I know you asked for the night off, and that the only way you could insure he gets it is to wait for him, but I pinkie promise to make it up to you!

Signed Pinkie D Pie,

Minister of Morale

The short missive, no wait. That is an oxymoron. Missive is long and formal, whereas this was short and personal. This letter unveils a potentially advantageous and invaluable item of interest to his objectives. An object that identifies him as an inspector, regardless of of field, could give him carte blanche. With a gleeful expression he begins searching through the desk's drawers. In the bottom left drawer, was a lanyard embossed with that familiar pink face. Without hesitation he takes it, and wears it under his armored overcoat.

With a glance back to the service member, he leaves her in peace. A promise on his lips, to return and give her the honors she deserves. Closing the door, he trots on. Through the sandy corridor. Expecting the dust his eyes squish shut, and he just walks on. Looking back to the gate house once more, he turns back to the gate. With a smirk of determination he steps forward. Ready for the adventure ahead of him.

The industrial halls echo, as she cries out her grievances. "Those rotting lumps of lard! I won't last a week. I barely survived basic, now they're sending me out alone! No armor, a old ten mil? Might as well give me a single bullet, then at least it'll be fast." The beige mare eyes cross as she thinks, desperate for a shred of hope. Finding inspiration, she dashes into her office, and nearly vaults over her desk. under one corner is a small stack of papers she deemed useless, apart from keeping her desk flat. With a heave and a puff, she yanks out an old Ministry of Awesome map, tearing off the southwest section. She ignores the tear, and traces a path.

She knows that her quarry would realistically go to one of a few places. Canterlot would make sense, but would remain her last option, due to the dangers it posses. Manehatten would be another plausible destination, but it would be far too vast and dangerous for her to search on her own. Which leaves places of military importance. Many of which have been occupied or are already been secured, leaving few that she could search. The vast majority of which are in the exclusion zone. She begins further reducing the list, removing those that were destroyed completely. Taking the marked map, she begins tracing a route.

Before long, her work is done. Strapping on the little equipment she is allotted, She leaves her office behind. Her mind numb as she is led outside. Breathing in the fresh decay for the first time in months, she doesn't look back thinking: This is her duty, and by the princesses long gone, she will fulfill it. Her escort leaves her behind, when they turn back.

This, is not quite what he expected. Elemenhoof is empty. Eerily so, the casings he saw are everywhere, as are the corpses of what they shot. Raiders reduced to paste and ash. This military base was empty. His hooves echo on, announcing his presence, daring anything to challenge him. Anything to break the monotony.

Looking back shows the gates, a few blocks behind him. To his left is a residential block, his right having a few stores. On a whim hd turns to the stores.

He approachs the first building. Built on the exterior wall and across the second story is a large poster, showcasing a purple mare enjoying a refreshing drink: Sparkle Cola, now with three new flavors!

The first floor has a row of windows looking out into the street. Glancing in shows an old diner. The stallion enters, calmly pushing the door open. Looking to the front counter, he sees what reminds him of a protectron standing up, blocking a door marked as employees only.

"Powering up. Protectapony on duty!" rings out a familiar, synthesized voice. "Inspector detected, engaging role: Management."

He wories for a breif moment, wondering if his looted pass would still work, and what authority it gives him. He bites back his negative thoughts and forces a smile before speaking . "I'm here to make sure everything is just fine and dandy. Give me the run down."

"Acknowledged, there have been zero inidents reported since the latest inspection. Enjoy your complementary Sparkle Cola, its the real thing." The machine, a Protectapony, offers him a bottle of the same drink the poster advertised.

Taking the offered refreshment, he pushes his stolen authority further." I would like to finish my inspection with checking out the employees only sections." The smile on his face only grows wider, and less dishonest.

"The Ministry of Morale is always welcome to-" the speakers blow out, and the ponified protectron slumps. Chuckling he passes it by, since its seems to be of no threat to him.

He steps beyond the fallen robot, lightly pushing the door open. Behind it is a cramped hallway, on his left is the kitchen. His right a small stairwell leading upward. Already feeling cramped, he turns right. Trotting up the small stairs.