We ascended above the town of Rutford, stood atop a large sand dune like a pair of unwitting refugees seeking haven in the town below. The six hour journey across a scorching desert had taken up most of my remaining supplies of food (but thanks to my flask, I still had water to spare). The journey was our everest and, now that we had arrived, we could rest; perhaps I could haggle for some spare fruit and vegetables from the aforementioned N.E.S. stationed there, though my skills at bartering left much to be desired, as my cutie mark suggested, I was only good at giving other ponies their mail.

Thankfully, we hadn’t encountered any reason to use our guns and waste precious ammo over the course of the trip, Essay perked up after our chat earlier, despite this, she had voiced concern over how her conversation with her superior would fare, I tried my best to reassure her several times but she didn’t seem to believe me.

As we stood atop the sandy hill, the sun burning overhead, we stared down into the town, the scathing light gleamed off the slated roofs of the dull-grey buildings below; ruined edifices encased the few structures that remained standing and wholly intact, it was a haven of shelter surrounded by reminders of how close the world came to total destruction.

My pipbuck pinged on my wrist, notifying me of the new location. I smiled and considered all the ponies who were in the town below living a life that very nearly didn’t happen. In a way, we all had something in common. My ancestors and, in extension, I, were sheltered by Stable-Tec - a company that took it upon themselves to provide shelter (the Stables) to ponies on the chance that the Great War did break out into a cataclysmic event that could wipe out all life across Equestria (which it did) - and here we see these ponies living in shelters built by the ponies of old to provide warmth and safety to anypony who stayed in them, sure the difference is the homes the ponies in the town below stay in weren’t built for the sole purpose of protecting them from hellfire that rained from the sky, but it’s a comparison worth noting in this world of ‘them vs us’, a pony-eat-pony mantra that had seated itself upon the discourse of ponies, Griffons and Zebras alike.

***

Essay was staring down at the N.E.S. encampment below, anticipation was rife on her face, her eyes darted in her sockets - small jerking motions - left-to-right (from the town to the military compound) which made her trepidation about her upcoming chat with her superior all too clear. “What if she discharges me on grounds of incompetence? What if she demotes me from security pony to something even more dangerous…? Like a patrolpony!” She jigged on the spot, her hooves helplessly splashed into the sands below as she did her anxious dance. Her coat shined with sweat from the heat (and possibly the anxiety), her mane, that once was tied into a neat ponytail that strung out the back of her security cap, now hung off her shoulder, tousled and limp, the hairband holding her hair up had long since been removed. I chuckled at the scenarios that vexed her mind.

“Look, think about this logically, if she discharges you then you can just come with me - be my guardpony,” I shot her a wink, she smiled with a grin that sat between joy and angst, “and if she doesn’t discharge you, then why would she give you a more dangerous job? If she thought you were incompetent before with a security job, then she isn’t going to put you in a position where incompetence will get other ponies killed too”. Her smile declined and receded back to her natural expression; a wide-eyed, blank gaze and a small frown that wreathed the corners of her lips. My words may have resonated with her, if that were true, she certainly didn’t show it. I put a hoof around her, the sweat built up behind her neck, from under her mane, dampened my leg, “Let’s just go down there with our chins held high and our strut flawless, and see where the moment takes us”. With a gentle pat on the back, I began to descend the hill - with a sort of tumble and slide as opposed to any flair I attempted to maintain.

Once I had slid to the bottom of the hill, the coarse sand had ground the frog of my hooves raw, leaving them burning from the heat and also from the sanding they had received. I turned to watch Essay attempt the descent as pain seethed through me, leaving me biting my lip and speechless. Essay, on the other hoof, seemed to had mastered the way in which a pony should walk down a sand covered dune without causing her hooves to feel as though they had just been sanded down like somepony had attempted to remove paint from a wall. Oh, how I hated sand sometimes.

From the bottom of the dune, the town of Rutford appeared to be no more than a graveyard of buildings and cobbled roads that had long since been devoured by the desert. Pieces of rebar and concrete shot up from the earth, ponymade stalagmites of whites, greys and browns. The sand beneath flickered under the beaming sun, the hot air that rose from the sands danced in a visible, yet indiscernible, shimmer; warping the light behind it, making the desert appear to move and twist in ways that sometimes resembled shapes of other ponies. Often the shapes appeared to be a stream or a lake. These mirages faded away almost as soon as they had materialised; the phenomenon left my head swollen with thought - and a touch of anxiety - impossible ideas that one of those shapes could easily have been a real pony, that was watching us, made me feel uneasy.

The rubble cracked and collapsed without warning as we walked through the grave of an ancient town, the clop of our hooves on the dilapidated, cobbled roads under the superficial layer of sand echoed across the field of debris. Up close, it appeared that the ponies of this town used these ruined constructs as a kind of wall and getting lost in the concrete wall of detritus was easy; with no clear sign of where the exit was, we had no choice but to aimlessly wander amongst the field of mirages and shattered homes from a world long forgotten.

Amongst the ruins, there was evidence that ponies still lived in these dwellings right up until the bombs dropped, skeletons of ponies lay strewn about in the sand that became their gravesite; one skeleton hung, limp and lifeless, from a pole of black rebar that once acted as a structure to a long destroyed building, it may have once been the home of the skeleton skewered atop it. I couldn’t imagine the fear that struck these ponies, it would have been like lightning from an angered god when the balefire ignited their homes, swallowing them and their families in a fireball of spite and vitriol, a war that didn’t have anything to do with them; yet they paid the ultimate sacrifice.

The charred bones of ponies and houses left the already tense atmosphere of the city of rubble around Rutford all that more unnerving, though the thought had occurred to me that perhaps maybe there might have been some useful loot to find in the collapsing structures, a thought process I imagined my father would have been on board with. One such house that caught my eye appeared to have an intact safe sat under an exposed desk that was visible from a hole where one of the four walls - that would have completed the building - should have been.

***

I peeked my head into the ruined apartment, studying the integrity of the roof that still sat precariously on the remaining walls like a hat atop the head of a drunk. The struts that ran along the ceiling creaked under the unsupported weight, the sound created by the stressed wooden beams made my ears droop back as I stepped into the dangerously unstructured and unknown home, it was like stepping into the epitome of claustrophobia - a crushing darkness and a tight space juxtaposed against the lifting light and freedom of the desert outside. I hoped and prayed that I wouldn’t regret this decision. Essay refused to come inside with me, she said she would rather take her chances with a Taintscorpion than go in, I considered it a fair point seeing as I didn’t really like my chances that the roof would stay above my head long enough for me to get in, loot the safe and get out, but try my chances, I did.

Upon entering the building, the walls that remained enveloped me, I could smell the putrid air of a sepulchre like many ponies had died and decayed in this very room. I put a hoof out in front of me and my step was greeted with a loud crunch, my stomach churned at the sound and a shiver of disgust crept up my spine. I sparked up a lumination spell from my horn to inspect what I just stepped on (I wish I hadn’t). The spinal column of a skeleton was underhoof, specifically, under my hoof, it had snapped under the weight of my step, the fragments of bone pressed into my hoof, which I had to pry out before they caused any damage. I gagged at the feeling and at the thought that the bones of a pony had been fragmented and lodged into my hoof and, as I looked around the room, I saw five more skeletal remains on the floor, blackened and charred from the fires that engulfed and ate away at their body tissues and organs, which explained the smell that lingered in the room. I was about to take another step forward, towards the safe I saw sat under the desk - now glistening with a sickly reflection of my magic - when I saw the light from my horn reflect off something metal on the floor. I bent down and examined it and thank you, dear caution, as my hoof sat uncomfortably close to the pressure plate of a primed bear trap.

“What the fuck is wrong with some ponies!?” I whispered harshly to the skeletons and darkness around me as if they would sit up and respond. Somepony clearly saw this safe before me, failed to get into it and booby-trapped it with a bear trap, why? What sort of mentality is ‘if I can’t have it then anypony dumb enough to go digging around here will lose their leg’? I could feel a touch of resentment boiling up inside of me at the thought that somepony could be so selfish, my biggest flaw; overestimating the kindness of wasteland ponies.

I took a breath and carefully lifted my hoof from out of the range of the angular, serrated vices of the bear trap and put it down just to the left of it. After that near fiasco, I took the time to look around the house turned tomb - turned death trap - that I found myself traipsing through. The bear trap I had nearly lost my hoof to wasn’t the only one around. There were three others, all placed parallel to items of interest in the building. To add to the danger, next to each bear trap was a motion sensitive landmine, which would detonate if any of the bear traps were triggered. It was a clever booby trap, which made the situation all the more terrifying.

The three objects that the selfish pony, who rigged the place to blow, deemed interesting was a small terminal in the back right corner of the room, the safe and a cabinet with a seemingly advanced locking system on the left wall; it appeared to be connected to the terminal via cables that ran from the ceiling, the safe also seemed to have a very similar connection to the terminal. I sighed at this realisation. It meant that I would have to dig into the rudimentary knowledge I had on hacking into terminals, it was basic enough that I could, in theory, do it. First of all, I needed to disarm the landmines which filled the room with a desynchronised, yet subtle, beeping, added with the distressed creaking of the rafters; I was beginning to feel ever so slightly pressured.

***

Once the beeping of each landmine had ceased to fill the air with an imminent sense of ‘oh crap there goes my limbs’, I could go about disarming the bear traps that made the already cramped room suffocating. I already knew exactly how to do that, since there were more skeletons in the room then there were bear traps and they wouldn’t mind if I borrowed parts of them.

I gagged as I levitated the snapped spine that I stood on as I stepped into the room, I manipulated it over the pressure plate in the center of the trap and with a violent snap, the trap clamped down onto the spine, leaving it standing vertically in the vice, the teeth chewed through the bone and cracked it. I proceeded to repeat the process with the remaining two bear traps, each loud snag and crack of bone curdled the fluids in my stomach, I came close to vomiting when one of the spines still had a skull attached to it. It stood, staring at me like some creepy nightmare night decoration.

“Fucking creepy house, just became fucking creepier”. I shuddered as the skull’s lower jaw unhinged on the right-side sending another reflux up my esophagus. I placed a hoof over my mouth and swallowed the acid that had come up with my last wretch, I really should work on improving my gag reflex. I breathed heavily as I tried to seize my attention from the pony skull to the terminal. I needed to focus if I had any chance at hacking it.

I approached the ancient machine built by Stable-Tec; it was dust-laden and dim, though it hummed unmistakably with life. In front of it was a small wooden stall, with the bear trap (and spine) behind it. I sat down onto the stall, it creaked and groaned under my weight, it had a slight lean to it and as a result of this. The spine I had used to disarm the bear trap was now a rather uncomfortably stiff and disgusting backrest. I tried to ignore it as best as I could, which was easier said than done. The bone brushed my mane and pressed into my own back like it was trying to use my body as a new host, I wanted to cry out in disgust but I knew that wouldn’t solve anything. I took a deep breath and initiated the startup for the terminal and plugged my pipbuck into it. The screen ran a sequence of bright green welcome messages followed by a page of random numbers and letters, this was where I needed to concentrate. My pipbuck began to organise the letters into comprehensible words and phrases, now all I had to do was find the correct password amongst the seemingly inexhaustible possibilities.

It took me fifteen minutes of starting and restarting the terminal login sequence, but I eventually found the password - Sassy; truly secure passwords these ponies had - upon entering the password and unlocking the terminal, my pipbuck downloaded a message from a pony called ‘Sassy Saddles’, this was not of any significance to me in the moment, I could read it later when I wasn’t on a time limit. I used the terminal to release the actuators that were keeping the safe and the cabinet locked. I saw the safe door click and hang loosely open and as for the cabinet; I heard multiple locks release upon entering the command on the terminal, a proud smile seized control of my muzzle.

I placed a hoof onto the top of the safe and gripped the handle with my magic, “Express, you are such a clever mare, you know that! Your reward for being so clever is…” the safe door swung open in silence, “bloody hairpins!? Oh come on! I risked my flank for this!? Ugh!” I screamed into the darkness, destroying the silence, the noise felt unnatural in the room, the creaking of the rafters seemed to grow louder from my exclamation of anger like the noise disrupted the balance of the roof above me. I took the pins and threw them into my saddlebags, not because I saw any use for them but because I disarmed three landmines, bear traps and hacked a terminal for them! With a reluctant whinny I threw open the cabinet doors and saw a more fitting reward for my hard work, “Oh yeah! That’s more like it!” I levitated a small energy based pistol off a rack at the back of the container, it was small, light and easy to use - the perfect kind of gun for me! Unfortunately, it was battery powered and the pathetic groan it gave me when I attempted to turn it on was life’s way of saying ‘have some more garbage for your collection of hairpins’. I placed it into my saddlebag, slightly disappointed by the loot I found for the effort I put into getting it.

“Are you quite done in there, Express? I was kidding earlier; I would really rather not be standing here if a Taintscorpion happened to come by!” Essay called out with a tiny squeak from the other side of the hole in the wall, her voice was muffled by the concrete between her and I.

“Yep. I’m done, I’ll be out now S”. I sighed, I’d not felt so defeated in my life - or since I heard about my father’s fate.

***

With a reluctance in my step, I continued escorting Essay towards the N.E.S. barracks that had been erected on the far-right of the town, the continued clop of my hooves on the asphalt below the thin veil of sand echoed off each ruin we passed. Essay tried to tell me that the pistol I had found was an old breeder-cell laser pistol, an extremely rare pre-war weapon that very few ponies ever had, yet it did not cheer me up. Sure, the pistol I found would make a pretty cap amongst the vendors who specialised in weaponry, but I was hoping for something special, like perhaps a gun I could actually use that packed more of a punch than my father’s 9mm Pistol I had inherited. I heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment and frustration into the tepid air. I attempted to convince myself that I didn’t have the knack for scavenging and looting as my father did, after all; I was nothing more than a simple mail-pony.

Essay seemed to become more uncomfortable around me when I held my head lower than the morals of a raider, my melancholic attitude after one shitty haul of loot was stupid, I knew it was; yet I couldn’t talk myself into feeling better. I knew with each step that Essay lagged behind me, I was making her feel more and more negative about talking to her commander; after all, I was the pony who told her we’d walk into that compound with our heads high, yet here I was, feeling defeated after one scavenging run.

I brought my hoof to my forehead, furrowed my brow and dragged my hoof over the frown lines that formed, “S, I’m sorry for seeming so down all of a sudden. I was really hoping there would be something a bit more… useful in that building. I guess it was rather short sighted”. I laughed as I put my hoof back to the floor but I didn’t hear laughter back - or anything for that matter. “S?” I turned around to see why Essay was being so quiet. I found her hiding behind a half-crumbled piece of wall which marked where a home once stood. She had her hoof over her mouth, indicating that I should be quiet, whilst she waved me over with her other hoof. I obeyed and crouched behind the wall, her vexed expression left me feeling like I had missed something. I checked my E.F.S. and saw two red markers moving about; yet I couldn’t see the creatures that they represented.

“I heard somepony moving around in the ruins, one of them shouted - how did you not hear them?” I rubbed at the back of my neck, feeling slightly embarrassed about the lack of attention I had been paying as a result of the mood I had found myself in, I shrugged at her, she sighed at my lackadaisical response, “Do you think it’s the Zebras from the other night?” Her words were laced with worry, a poison of which had began to spread to me.

“It shouldn’t be, they wouldn’t be this close to an N.E.S. barracks!” The logic did nothing to quench the worrisome thirst of dismay that had taken over Essay’s thoughts. She bit the back of her hoof whilst she peeked over the rubbled wall we were hiding behind, looking for something that would make the situation seem less dire. “Stay here, I’ll go and check it out okay? If something happens, fire off your revolver; the noise should be enough to distract them long enough for me to get away or defend myself”. I shot Essay a reassuring wink as I darted past the wall, giving her no time to respond.

***

I approached the ruins of a small cottage; the place my Eyes Forward Sparkle was telling me where the ponies were, their markers had remained still inside. I looked into a low hanging window on the side of the building, the glass had long since shattered and become nothing more than fine sprinkles that glistened in the sun (though they weren’t the kind of sprinkles you’d want to eat). I saw a pony - dressed in a blue and black jumpsuit - a unicorn like myself. He was levitating a bat by his side, it was heavily wrapped in rusted metal chains; he was sat down on a chair watching the door they had entered in. He had a rather pleased smile on his face. The second pony in the room wasn’t visible; they were stood out of the sight of the window or in another room.

It seemed that the Stallion would have been unable to fight at range, which meant I had the advantage over them, if I was even going to engage them in a fight. I had done my job, which was to confirm that they were not the Zebras we saw. As I turned to walk away, I heard a familiar sound - a faint hum - which resonated at the same tone and frequency as my own pipbuck, yet this noise was coming from inside the building, not from my leg.

I quickly peeked back through the window and saw the same pony sitting on the chair wearing a pipbuck on his wrist, only his was displaying a corrupted blue screen (clearly he had no idea how it worked). I saw the second pony now - a mare - she had a dark grey coat with a blonde mane, she too wore a blue and black jumpsuit, though hers was torn in… certain areas; she was sitting on the floor between the legs of the stallion, her back facing to the window, her head planted between the stallion’s legs. It was then that I sank back below the windowframe - no longer looking, no longer needing to - I didn’t have to be a genius to know what a mare would be doing in a pose like that. My mouth set in a hard line, the kind of face one pulls when they witness something that they shouldn’t have.

At this point, I had two options. Option one: Go in and ask that pony why he has a broken pipbuck and interrupt his… special time, or option two: go back to Essay and pretend I never saw any of that. Option one only seemed more enticing because if I could get that pipbuck from his hoof then I could give it to Essay! She would make more use of it then that Stallion anyway; since I had the tools required to fix it. I sighed in the disbelief that I was about to interrupt two ponies in the process of giving (and receiving) fellatio. “I swear, if he points it at me I will shoot it”. I didn’t mean the bat.

I slowly pushed open the door, the quiet, perverse groans of the couple in the cottage were interrupted with a jolt of activity from the happy stallion on the chair, either he saw the door open or he just reached— Bad thought. As I turned the corner on the doorframe of the house, I levitated my pistol from its holster - aiming it - ready to pull the trigger if the circumstance arose. The seated stallion was still getting happily pleasured by the mare as I entered the room and, in a moment of shock and surprise, he quickly attempted to stand up much to the discomfort of the mare who made a very audible gag at the suddenness of his movement. I aimed the gun at him as he levelled his bat by his side.

“Don’t even think about it, happy”. The twitching underneath him was difficult to ignore, it was as if it was winking at me - it made me feel particularly sick, “Make a move at me and I’ll make it so you and your marefriend there will never have one of these close moments again, understand?” I aimed the gun at his crotch, really hoping he gave me a reason to shoot since the sight of it was making me feel ill. The stallion dropped his bat and nodded at me, the threat of me shooting his crown jewels off probably made his insides cry in pain.

“Alright there lassy, let’s not get too trigger happy here, what d’ya want? Ya see us through the window and decided ya want in?” His voice was confident and his accent was unlike the typical one heard around the Griffish Isles - he probably hailed from the neighbouring islands - he held a certain cocky nature that reminded me of a colt who bullied me when I was a filly, he too acted more with his crotch than with his head. I rolled my eyes and reasserted myself.

“By Luna, you’re annoying, if you must know it’s that,” I aimed my gun at his pipbuck briefly before recentering the sights on him, “I want your pipbuck - since you seem more interested in the many ways you can get your dick wet added with the fact that it’s broken tells me I’d find more use for it than you”. He chuckled, a cocky smirk found its way across his muzzle.

“If you’re interested just admit it, plenty o’ me ta go around!” He shot a glance at the mare on the ground, she simply rolled her eyes; clearly not impressed by his arrogant display whilst stood in the sights of a gun. I gagged at his preposition.

“Look, you can either give it to me peacefully, or I can put a bullet between your eyes before you can lift that pathetic bat up to protect yourself and I’ll take it from your cold, dead hooves”. Now I smirked as his smile was wiped away, confidence shot through me like a dart. “Besides, your marefriend looks more fun than you”. I toyed with him, he knew he was screwed (in a way he wasn’t expecting) and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Fine!” He tore the loosely fastened pipbuck off his ankle and threw it at me, I caught it with no effort in my levitation field, “Now can ya piss off?” He ground his teeth in frustration.

“Certainly”. I turned to the mare and shot her wink, she gave me a rather uncomfortable smile in retaliation, it didn’t bother me though; I was only further irritating the stallion in the room.

***

I returned to Essay, she was still hiding behind the wall where I last saw her, her worried expression still sat upon her muzzle claiming it as a throne. Her eyes did light up when I returned though, her smile of perceived security lifted my already high spirits.

“I have something for you”. I spoke with a sing-song inflection to my voice, my excitement grew more as a somewhat puzzled - yet eager - look seized away the throne of angst from her expression. Her browline relaxed, the wreathe of dismay on her lips turned up into a smile; clearly she was excited. I levitated the pipbuck I had procured from the stallion out from my saddlebag and presented it to Essay’s right leg, her eyes glowed from the realisation of what I was showing her.

“This is—” her jaw hung agape.

“Mhm”

“And you’re not messing with me?”

“Why would I be?” I smiled as I clasped the strap over her leg. Her smile beamed wider when I locked it in place with a special key that had also been passed down through the generations in my family. The pipbuck - which once glowed blue due to security reasons - glowed with a white welcome screen (a different Stable must have made the default display white). On the screen, was displayed the name of the Stable this particular pipbuck came from - ‘Stable 111’ - I’d never heard of it. Then came the magic of the pipbuck, using the spells that had been programmed into it by Stable-Tec it was able to instantly generate a health status of Essay whilst also displaying her full name on the details page.

“How does it do all of that?” She gave the pipbuck a confused look-over like a child examining a new toy in amazement. I merely laughed and told her that I would explain it to her at some other time.

As we continued through the maze of Rutford, Essay had been buzzing since I gave her the pipbuck, regularly flicking through the different menus on it; playing and pausing various radio stations within range of the receiver and even jokingly asked me to shoot her in the leg just so she could see the health status work in real-time. “Please! Just one shot in my hoof! You have bandages to fix it!” Her excitement at the possibility of getting shot in the hoof was disconcerting.

“I am not shooting you in the hoof!” I chuckled as I spoke, “Besides, the bandages don’t heal bullet wounds, they’re to be used for bruises, scrapes and cuts”. The matter-of-fact nature of my words made Essay frown, but she accepted that I wasn’t going to be putting a bullet into her. It didn’t stop her giggly attitude though, she had gone from being an angsty teen to a giddy schoolfilly in less than an hour, thankfully, she had cheered up just as we had reached the N.E.S. barracks located outside the town.

We were greeted by a larger than average mare dressed in a heavier looking uniform than what was worn by Essay, instead of a light black armoured jacket; this pony was wearing a metal looking vest with protective guards covering her legs and flank, between each plate of highly protective armour was a thin layer of cloth. The usual insignia of a three-headed lion and the initials of ‘N.E.S.’ emblazoned across the armour was also present. Her mane was short, barely falling further than the pinnacle of her neck, it was dark in colour - much like her coat. Her cold gaze combined with the combat saddle that was pointed towards us at all times was very intimidating, security was definitely not taken lightly within the ranks of the N.E.S.

It only took a few words from Essay to get us into the same tent us her superior, Commander Hawker - another mare - she was older than both Essay and I and she had the battle scars to prove it. She wasn’t wearing the heavier armour of the ponies outside, instead, she was wearing a long coat that brushed the ground when she walked. It was a dusty brown with a high collar, curiously though she was a pegasus - which was quite unseen in the wasteland. Her mane was windswept and stylised to look as large and streamlined as possible, her brick coloured mane with a darker streak spiralling down it stood out from her orange coat which glowed from under the almost colourless fabric of her duster; yellow eyes beaded out from under the shadow of her mane. With a voice of complete disinterest she addressed our presence; “What do you want? Can’t you see that I’m far too busy to deal with two wastelanders looking for handouts?” There was a gruffness to her voice, it sounded sore and rough like somepony who regularly smoked. “Well? You just going to stand their cock-eyed and dumbfounded? Out with it!” her disinterested tone had turned to anger and impatience.

“S-sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Essay stuttered as she spoke up, taking a step towards the pegasus who held rank over her, “I’m Essay Strive from Quarry Security”. She shied away when her commander interrupted her.

“Quarry Security? Mind explaining why in Celestia’s name you’re here and not over there?” Commander Hawker pursed her lips and leant in to Essay’s face, psyching her out - typical of military types.

“W-well you see…” Essay’s stuttering resulted in a vicious scowl from Hawker, “On my first night I inspected a noise I heard from the dynamite storage shed and two ponies managed to ambush and take me hostage, they also… made off with the last of the dynamite”. Essay hid her face from her now very angry superior, whose own face had become so corrupt with anger that she was noticeably biting her tongue. Her yellow eyes - which would seem inviting on anypony else - were fixed into a permanent glower. The room was silent with nothing but the uncomfortable cough from a guard by the door and exalted sighs that tore from the nostrils of Hawker.

She turned her back on us and went back to the table where she had been sat when we entered the room, I felt the need to speak up and explain my role in everything. “I’m Express by the way, I’m a courier. I actually once did a delivery for General Horseshoe, he gave me free pass through N.E.S. controlled areas and barracks so…” I cleared my throat, my words received no other response than an arrogant flick of her tail, “I, also, was the one who rescued Essay here from her capturers”.

“What do you want? A reward?” Hawker seemed to have a habit of cutting ponies off before they finished talking, “Thank you for bringing me an incompetent recruit who couldn’t even handle a simple security detail”. Her initial sarcasm quickly turned into blatant insults. She turned back to face us, her red-faced grimace hadn’t budged. “Tell you what, Essay. I’ll give you one more chance. You can go be the apprentice to an officer out by ‘Novac’, the run-down hotel where ponies ended up living. It’s on it’s way to New Trottingham, so you shouldn’t have trouble finding it. I’ll even let your friend here escort you,” Essay smiled at the thought of travelling with me again, I smiled back at her, “On one condition”. I cocked my head as I noticed Hawker’s mouth curl into a sinister smile. “You said you’re a courier right? Well, I have a message for you to deliver”. I really didn’t like where this was going.

***

I was escorted by two N.E.S. guards to the front gates of the town of Rutford, the gates were badly weathered and heavily rusted, they appeared to be more for show than any kind of security. I sighed as I was pushed beyond the gates. My ‘message’ that I needed to deliver in order for Essay to receive her superior’s permission to travel with me was a bullet (or many if the word of Commander Hawker was anything to go by). The town was overrun by escaped convicts from the local correctional facility - a fancy name for a prison. My job was to clear them out. Sounded simple enough, except, I’d never really shot at a pony before. I’d killed countless radroaches, a few taintscorpions and one or two overgrown mole rats but I’ve only ever delivered letters to ponies, not delivered them to their demise.

I swallowed hard, I felt sick. Standing at the front gates, I clutched at my pistol, the magic field glowing around it washed me in a sickly green hue - perfectly encapturing my feelings. I glanced around, checking for these ponies hiding amongst the buildings surrounding me, the rubble wall trapping me in there with them. To my left, I saw a large office building built of red brick with large windows facing onto the street I was stood on; the roof had collapsed long ago as did enough of the wall on the top floor so that I could make out what looked like a pony’s tail poking out around it and my E.F.S. confirmed this with a red marker - along with many others around the town. In a blind panic, I quickly crept over to a small gazebo that was sat opposite me. The gazebo was enough to hide me from the pony in the building but if anypony was to come onto the street I was hiding on it would’ve turned into a very one-sided gunfight - I needed to get off the street and take cover in a building and fast.

From the gazebo, I saw a small building with a neon sign hanging crooked from the front, most of the glow from its lights had faded but I could make out the name of the store, “Griffish Mail - a post office? Wouldn’t that just be irony at its greatest, look at the scared little mailpony running into the post office”. I whinnied at the idea, sure it seemed like it was the least secure place to work out a plan of attack but it would do and, since my E.F.S. was showing the markers elsewhere, it seemed like the ponies were avoiding the post office.

Perfect.

I peeked out around my hiding spot to see if the pony in the building was watching the street, thankfully, he was not. I took my chance. I quickly galloped from the middle of the street across to the small post office next to the larger building the watcher-pony was in. As I galloped, I could hear how loud my hoofsteps were, it made me panic. I was neither subtle nor sneaky, everypony and their grandmares could hear me and this post office probably won’t stay so quiet for long. I made it to the door and, with one swift movement, I burst through it - making yet more noise. As soon as I was through, I quickly pushed the first heavy looking object I could see over the door which happened to be an overturned counter. Once the door was barricaded, I fell onto my haunches and tried to slow my breathing down. “Okay, you’re okay, nothing to worry about!” I checked my E.F.S - the markers were moving towards the street I was just on, “Aha! Nothing to worry about! Not like there’s convicted criminals outside on the street right now! You’re fine!” If my panicked whispers of reassurance did anything it was make me panic more.

I glanced around the post office, looking for something that I could use. Some item of use! All I found was a small kitchen knife, it was sharp at least. “Oh joy! If I get really desperate I could just run at them with this!” I checked my E.F.S. again, “all… twelve… of them”. I wanted to cry, I’d honestly never been so stressed in my life. How in pony’s sake did soldiers willingly walk into combat?! I looked up from my pipbuck and passed the glass counter I was leaning against for support when I noticed the hole in the wall leading straight into the building where that watcher-pony was. A small panic set in, especially when I could make out the sounds of a pony’s hooves slowly descending a stairwell - which was all I could see from the hole in the wall. I had to hide and fast! I, once again, darted my eyes around the room, looking for a cabinet to hide in, or a locker! But there was no-place to hide. All I could think of was ducking under the counter I was leaning on, which is exactly what I did. Once my pipbuck confirmed I was hidden, the pony stepped into the room - my heart started racing.

“I heard ya in here! Where’d you go? Did you hide....” he fired off a shotgun round into the small cabinet compartments that were under the mail shelves where all the letters were organised sending letters and wood flying over the room. “Nah, nah nah, you wouldn’t be in there, too small!” His hoofsteps were now on the opposite side of the counter to where I was hidden, or they were. With a grunt he climbed on top of the glass of the counter (which was obviously reinforced) and he began shooting at every possible spot in the room which filled it with explosive light from the barrel and a deafening blast with each squeeze of the trigger. I cowered with my hooves over my head as he emptied his shotgun into the walls and floors around him - missing where I was since he didn’t bother to look directly below him. When I heard the click of his empty shotgun I knew I had to take advantage of the situation, else I might end up like the letters - lifeless and full of holes. I picked up the kitchen knife that I found in my teeth and gripped it tightly. I breathed slowly through my nostrils and rose from the ground - I held my eyes shut tightly as I did.

Once I was no longer hiding I knew it was now or never. I opened my eyes again and looked up at the pony on the counter, he was too busy fumbling with his shotgun, trying to reload it, to notice me. I took one last breath, I knew I had to do this silently or every other pony outside would be on me in seconds. Whilst he was still fumbling with the shotgun I climbed onto the counter in front of him. He looked at me and gasped, desperately trying to get the shotgun shell into the gun, but I didn’t give him the chance, I lunged forward and plunged the blade of the knife into his throat. His blood ran freely from the knife and into my mouth - the metallic taste made me feel even more sick than the gurgling sounds coming from the pony as he tried to breathe through the blood now entering his windpipe. That’s when the shotgun fell to the floor. In one quick motion, I sliced the blade out from his throat, spraying the wall in his blood.

I dropped the knife and began retching, the taste of the pony’s blood in my mouth was still fresh, lingering like the foul taste of rancid water. The pony, whose blood was now quickly emptying onto the floor, let out a guttural, gurgling sound before he collapsed onto the floor; dead. I stared at him in shock, horror and disgust. It didn’t take long before my feelings caught up to me, it also didn’t take long for me to vomit.

***

After the taste of another pony’s blood had been thoroughly and violently ejected from my system, I gathered myself; clutching at my stomach with my hoof as it swelled from the act of emptying itself onto the ground around me I examined the body of the pony I had just killed. His eyes were lifeless and his familiarly blue and black jumpsuit was stained through and soaked with his blood, as was the fur of my coat around my mouth. I gagged again - a dry-heave - simply due to the fact that there was no longer anything left to come up. I picked up the shotgun he had and put it into my saddlebag, ‘I might need this later’ I thought to myself. The room which once housed the smell of old paper and damp was now replaced with the lingering stench of burned up gunpowder and blood; leaving the air tasting of rusted metal and sulfur. I stared at the pockets of the pony’s jumpsuit, where he had been levitating shotgun shells from and if his shotgun was to be useful I’d need some ammo for it.

Reluctantly, I reached into his pockets, curling my face in disgust as I did. One by one, I began to relinquish his corpse of precious shells, placing them into the pockets on my saddlebag that I kept specially for ammo, it was about the only bit of organising that went into my inventory and even that was chaotic. Once his pockets no longer produced ammo, I patted him down looking for anything else that might have been on hoof when he died. He was soaked with blood and each placement of my hoof on his body dampened it, staining my fur with his blood, another dry-heave rocked my esophagus. I felt like I’d never get used to both killing and looting a dead pony, or to the queasiness I felt whenever I saw the remains of a pony.

Once I was certain I’d looted the pony for everything he had, which was really only the bullets, I stepped out of the post office and into the building where he had come from. The walls on the inside were bereft of colour or wallpaper, revealing nothing but the barebones brick and mortar underneath. I turned my back on the post office where I had taken my first life and checked my Eyes Forward Sparkle as I began climbing the stairs, all the markers of bad ponies had accumulated onto the street outside. “Oh great,” I whispered to myself, “as if my situation needed to be made worse”.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw the partially collapsed wall where I saw the first pony (who now lies downstairs). Beside the wall was a rifle with a scope attached to it, along with a small chair where I assumed the watcher-pony would have spent his down time resting. I levitated the rifle toward me and raised it to my eye level where I could easily peer down the green-tinted glass of the rifle scope, I could easily see all the ponies I had to kill for Commander Hawker. The sick feeling in the bottom of my gut had come around again when I reminded myself of that, along with the taste of blood from the throat of the pony who I murdered. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to numb myself to the feeling of killing, trying to coax the tear that had formed in the corner of my eye back, no matter how hard I tried all I could see was the face of the pony I killed as his life drained from the slit in his throat. I opened my eyes again, panting heavily, I took aim at the head of one of the ponies below and, with a whispered apology, I pulled the trigger.

Click.

My heart raced when I heard the gun fail to fire, it was as though I had just been spared a furthered experience of disgust. I inspected the rifle, I could see it had a bolt-mechanism, using my magic, I pulled on the bolt; it did not budge. It was broken, of course it was. I supposed I should have been thankful for that, if it hadn’t been broken, I would have attracted the attention of every single pony down there. I threw the gun aside and sat onto the chair, breathing slowly as sweat poured from my brow. I wiped at it, dampening my hoof, my coat was mottled by with the blood of the first pony I ever killed, I felt disgusting.

I glanced up into the blue sky above, the sun beamed down and kissed my blood-stained cheeks, the wind swept in from over the roofless walls. The air sweeping through my mane was warm yet significantly cooler than the heat that bared down from the sun. I closed my eyes and relished in the cooling fingers of the breeze as they combed through my mane, it helped me calm down. I checked my E.F.S again, the ponies had returned to what they were doing before all the noise I made had attracted them to the street. This was the perfect opportunity to sneak around and get a feel for what I was up against.

***

The sandstorm had stirred up soon after I had moved from my position on the top floor of the building, it gave me perfect cover to move through the streets of Rutford without being seen. Unfortunately, there was a catch to being able to walk like a ghost through a town swarming with ponies who wish to kill me and that was that I couldn’t really see, I was relying on what was visible and the maps of the town that my pipbuck had. I stepped out from the sheltered walls of the first floor of the office building, the wind immediately swept up under my jersey and threw my tail around, the sand whipped at my flank and legs with each lash from the wind leaving me feeling sore from only a few seconds being exposed to the storm. As expected, the visibility outside was poor and I could barely make out a large building in the center of the town, this was probably where all the convicts had gone so I needed to sneak my way inside.

With my eyes squeezed half closed and irritated by the sand, I pressed myself against the wall of the building using it as a guide. I shimmied my way across the wall with one hoof affixed to it, the rough stone grinded against my hoof leaving it feeling raw and sensitive. My eyes were starting to get dry from the sand being thrown around by the desert-storm that had now completely swallowed everything around me. Every breath I took felt coarse, my lungs were being sanded down from the inside out. I let out the occasional dry cough and reminded myself that I needed to get out of this storm else my lungs would suffer irreparably damaged. With that thought, luck had come my way as my hoof skated across a different texture, it was warmer and lighter and produced a small rattle as I put pressure onto it - a door. I grabbed the handle of the door with my magic and pulled it open, surprisingly it wasn’t locked.

Once inside of the large building, I slowly closed the door behind me. The dim conditions inside were difficult to adjust to with the sand clogging up my eyelashes. I rubbed at my eyes, tears from the irritation flowed freely, helping to moisten my eyes but the watery glaze had made adjusting to the dark harder. I could have easily flared up a lumination spell but I was meant to stay unseen. I shook my head, my mane whipped around violently, spraying sand around filling the room with the soft splash of sand spattering across hollow buckets and concrete walls. Eventually, my eyes stopped watering which returned to me my unobscured vision, the darkness quickly settled and shapes began to clarify as my eyes quickly adjusted.

I was stood in a dark corridor, two doors were obvious to me - one on my right which had light flooding out from under the crack between the frame and the floor and one at the end of the hallway obstructed by what seemed to be a pony with their back turned to me. “Bloody storm. I heard those shotgun blasts from the Post Office and Guts doesn’t pointless fire off his shotgun”. My heart jumped into my throat when I heard the pony muttering to himself. “I know he had an Ace problem but I know for a fact that he hadn’t taken any. I was the one who took it from him”. The barely clear shape of a pony at the end of the corridor appeared to shift, the door opened at the end of the corridor and soon the shape was no longer there.

‘Great, so I don’t even get a second to plan,’ I thought to myself, wondering how in Equestria I was going to pull this off. I levitated the knife I found in the Post Office out from my saddlebag and examined it, the knife was still dripping in blood, no way was this going back into my mouth. I carefully made my way down the corridor, mindful of the clutter that I could disturb which would give away my presence. The darkness made the angst of killing again all that more stressful. I was nearly at the door when the pony who’d left through appeared back in the doorway, he looked down the corridor and saw me standing there with the knife floating beside me.

Oh fuck.

With his mouth, he reached for something that was holstered on his right side, I panicked and threw the knife at him (with my eyes closed). I flinched when I heard the knife dig into something hard with a crack. I expected the knife to have missed completely and was anticipating a gunshot but there was nothing, only the heavy thud of a pony falling to the floor. I opened my eyes and stared in shock at the body of the pony with a knife stuck out of his head like the horn of a unicorn. My jaw slowly fell open, I knew I threw the knife hard but I didn’t think I threw it hard enough to penetrate the skull of a pony. I stepped over his body and attempted to pull the knife out from his skull. I had no luck, it was sunk deeper than the disgust that rose from my stomach. Instead, I gave his body a once over and took the Cleaver that he was reaching for, he had no other items of use on him, other than a note from ‘Guts’ the pony who I had killed in the Post Office. It was a thank you note, it read:

“Thanks for keepin’ me clean Hash, I’d be a mess if it weren’t for ya. Love ya! ~Guts”

Cute, they were a couple. Were being the key word there since I had killed them both. I wished I hadn’t read the note since it made me feel worse than I already was. “I’m sorry”. I whispered to the body of the pony the note implied was called ‘Hash’ before I made my way into the room at the end of the corridor. It opened out into a foyer with a staircase running on the right side, it seemed to lead to a balcony which overlooked the other room the corridor I entered into was connected to. I looked at my E.F.S., all the red markers were collected in the room which the balcony overlooked - along with a couple of amber markers.

Curiosity led me to creep up the staircase, each creak of the boards led me to cringe, fearing that somepony would hear them and get suspicious. By the time I was up the stairs the creaking floorboards hadn’t ceased, only now I was above where all the unfriendly ponies were gathered so each groan of worn boards was that much more suspicious. I approached the balcony dubiously with light steps and minimal board creaking, I gazed over the precipice of the second floor and saw what seemed to be a large hall filled with floodlights and ponies standing around drinking and laughing, except for the two ponies who were tied up in the far-right corner of the room - they definitely didn’t seem too happy. I would’ve continued watching if it wasn’t for the creaking that began to climb the stairs behind me.

I turned around and saw a unicorn aiming a rifle at me, a sinister smile curled her mouth, a disturbing look of pleasure emanated from her eyes as she spoke; “What do we have here?” Her voice was quiet, obviously she didn’t want to alert everypony to my presence - yet. I cowered towards the wall behind me, “You thought you could sneak in here? Steal the supplies from us and get out?” Oh, if only she knew what I was really doing here then she wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me. I shook my head, she moved closer to me, closing the gap between us quicker than I had expected. “Come here, empty your saddlebags and then I’ll kill you. But only after I’ve had fun with you”. Her voice was venomous and sickeningly playful, it left me feeling uncomfortable. I shook my head again, she moved closer and was now within range of the my cleaver which I had left on the floor before I cowered to the far wall. “I said—” I didn’t let her finish her sentence as I used my magic to levitate the cleaver below her and sent it plunging into her throat, silencing her. I took my chance to tell her a few words of my own.

“If you think I’m here to steal from you then that was far from your first mistake. Your first mistake was taking two innocent ponies hostage, your second mistake was talking to me like some piece of shit you stood in and the last mistake you ever made was wasting your breath and ignoring the cleaver I had left on the floor”. I pulled the cleaver out and took the rifle from the her as she choked to death on her inability to draw a breath from her severed windpipe. The feeling of killing in self-defence and the defence of others was different than killing ponies because I was told to, it felt more dignifying.

I snuck back down the stairs as I examined the rifle I took from the unicorn, it was a semi-automatic battle rifle chambered by .308 rounds with an en-bloc clip, my father taught me a lot about different guns and only ever showed me how to shoot very few. Thankfully, semi-automatic rifles was part of my repertoire of weapons I knew how to shoot. Eight bullets for the rifle, about twelve shotgun shells for the shotgun from Guts and fifteen bullets in the magazine for my 9mm pistol, that was more than enough ammo to help out those poor ponies tied up downstairs. With the current adrenaline fuelled hate for the ponies who tortured innocent ponies, I knew what I would do.

I galloped down back down the stairs and past the body of Hash with my newly acquired rifle floating beside me. I stood by the second door I saw upon entering, the light still filtered through beneath the doorframe. I took a breath. I turned and presented my back hooves to the door. I bucked the door open, swung around and levelled my rifle before I laced a single shot off to the first pony I saw. The rifle rattled as the gas powered chamber sent the bullet launching at the pony’s head. A red mist erupted outwards as it penetrated through the side of his skull followed by the shrapnel of skull and spray of gore from his brain splattered over the wall he was stood adjacent to. I shot off another bullet, the heavy crack of the gas chamber rang through my ears. After the third bullet from the clip was shot I dove behind an overturned table as the other ponies began to fire back.

A cacophony of gunfire exploded around me, the table I used for cover soon resembled swiss cheese as wood splintered around me. I blindly fired off a fourth shot from the rifle, the scream that followed sounded like I wounded some pony. Eventually, the gunfire ceased, they needed to reload their automatic weapons which they so callously sprayed around the room. I took the opportunity to fire off a fifth and sixth shot, moving towards a more intact table as I did, taking out two more of them, leaving me two more rounds and four more ponies. I flipped the new table and ducked behind it when the four remaining ponies began aiming their weapons at me again, the one I was most worried about getting shot by was the unicorn in the back; the three earth ponies stood out in the open were incapable of accurately aiming an automatic weapon whilst using their tongue to pull the trigger.

Once again the explosive, inaccurate and ineffectual gunfire ceased as they reloaded their weapons. I took aim, using my S.A.T.S., and blasted off the final two rounds, sending them catapulting at the unicorn and closest earth pony’s head, sending gore spattering across the wall behind them. The metallic clang of the en-bloc clip ejecting itself was my cue to switch to my pistol, which I did from the cover of the table. One more pitiful attempt at shooting me and this fight would be over, my pistol could hold fifteen bullets in a magazine, more than enough for two ponies. The gunfire ceased once more and jumped out of cover and shot off two bullets for each pony, all four bullets found their target and down they went with a wet thud, their blood - and the blood of the others - pooled around the front entrance where they were gathered. I breathed heavily, the adrenaline coursing my veins left me feeling invincible and the guilt I felt for killing a pony was absent, in a way I was thankful that they were twisted enough to subject innocent ponies to the fear that was not knowing how long they had left to live. I turned to the ponies who were tied up, a mare and a stallion; they were tied up with their backs to each other with a rag stuffed into their mouths as a gag. My magic made quick work of the ropes and the gag.

“Th-thank you so much! You have no idea how much we were hoping for a miracle and here you are!” The mare sung with tears in her eyes, the stallion pulled her close to him for a tight embrace, wishing me his gratitude too, a smile swept over my muzzle, the stress of killing all the criminals in the town fell off me as I received the gratitude of these ponies. “B-but what about our son?” The mare interrupted my moment, my smile turned to confusion. I cocked my head. “Th-they took him away from us! I think I heard one of them mention the hotel across the street… they must have taken him there! Please save our son!” I forced a grin over my face.

“There’s… more of them?” I muttered to myself. I could feel a bead of sweat drip off my brow, “D-don’t worry! I’ll rescue your son!” I feigned confidence with my words, hoping my stutter didn’t destroy their hope. I turned to walk out of the door, the ponies behind me wept tears of joy and worry for their missing son. I wept too with internal conflict; I foolishly imagined that these were the only ponies around and wasted almost all of my ammo and now I was meant to walk into a hotel where there would be more ponies who would kill me at first sight? A thought struck me, why exactly are these ponies who are escaped convicts so hostile? I swallowed my angst and concerns as the door to the sand swallowed world swung open.

Author's Note

Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk Acquired: Riflemare - Attacks with non-automatic rifles do 40% more damage and ignore 15% of a target's armor.