Fallout Equestria: I Walk The (Firing) Line

Chapters

Part 1: Ghost Town
Part 2: Nightfall
Part 3: The Hunted
Part 4: Always Something Bigger
Part 5: My Father's Gun
Part 6: "There's Fighting There, and the Company Needs Men..."
Part 7: "Try not to blow this one up okay?"
Part 8: The Big Easy
Part 10: Welcome to Mount Pleasant Island
Part 11: The Scourge of Bittersweet Springs
Part 12: Heartstrings Cove
Part 13: "I scratch your back, and you scratch mine"
Part 14: The Shadows of Mount Pleasant Island
Part 15: What we do in the dark...
Part 16: Recruitment Drive
Part 17: ...will be brought to the light
Part 18: A Matter of Trust
Part 19: "Lemme Tell You A Little Story..."
Part 20: The Calm Before The Storm
Part 21: Tabula Rasa
Part 22: Memento Mori
Part 23: Missionary Stallion
Part 24: "Sympathy for the Devil, Mate. Sympathy."
Part 25: Control-Alt-Delete
Part 26: Time Judges All
Part 27: Homecoming
Part 28: Broken Wing Blues
Part 29: Sun Goes Up
Part 30: Manehatten: Day 1
Part 31: Manehatten Day 2
Part 32: Manehatten: Day 4
Part 33: On Top of the Heap
Part 34: Hunter's Moon
Part 35: Waxing Moon
Part 36: New Moon
Prologue: The Griffon in the Wastes
Part 9: "I walked the Streets of Neigh Orleans.."

Part 1: Ghost Town

Appleloosa, a few moments before Riptalon’s arrival:

The stallion coughed and wheezed as he stumbled into a long-abandoned tavern marked The Salt Lick, blood dripping off his face and pooling in small puddles on the wooden floor. Scorch marks covered and dotted his gunmetal-gray and black armor… or what was left of it at least. Half of it lay shattered and in pieces behind him. What was left of it consisted of simple torso armor and two blood-red shoulder pads. If the stallion had to make his best guess, there was probably a helmet that went with it. From what the stallion could tell, this armor he was wearing was probably full body armor once. Well, it had to be a guess given its ruined state.

The stallion turned to look behind him, and saw a burning hulk of scrap metal behind him. Sadly however, making out what it was was impossible. This was rather largely in part due to the rapidly melting steel and the flames consuming it. The stallion continued forward into the tavern, its roof completely missing. From the looks of things, some tremendous force had blown it off. Thunder rumbled in the distance as dark clouds began gathering on the horizon.

“Wonderful… Just bleedin’ wonderful. ...Stuck out in the middle of fucking nowhere and first place I stumble into gets its roof blown off. And there’s a storm risin’,” the stallion grumbled out in a raspy tone. “It’s like somepony high up actually wants to mock me. Ah, to Tartarus with ‘em.”

Taking one last lingering look at the burning wreckage outside, something hit him. Loud thunder or something that sounded close to it filled his eardrums. It repeated, almost like it was cycling again and again. Almost like… Cannonfire. Voices, not his own, came next.

“Sir,” a male stallion’s voice yelled, almost as if in fear. Horrifyingly, he sounded as if he was in his early teens. “The cannons! They’re-”

“Damn the cannons, ignore them!” A older voice (With an accent similar to the stallion’s own) shouted as he slammed his hoof against something hard.

“But the ship, it’s going down! We should evacuate!” the first voice shouted, seemingly the more sensible one of the two. The stallion wanted to agree with the first voice, and not with the probably-suicidal idiot ordering him about.

“Give a buck power, and watch it all go all to his head…” the stallion muttered with a wry chuckle. His amusement was soon to be short-lived however, turning into outright horror as he listened to what happened next.

“No, not yet! We can still put up a fight, and I’m not letting those ground-dwelling mud-ponies get the better of us, and that’s that!” the older voice disagreed, nearly screaming by this point. “Now, you’ll obey my orders unless you want me to shoot you for insubordination!”

“But sir-”

A gunshot went off accompanied by a scream.

“W-Why?” the younger voice coughed out.

“You know why soldier,” The older voice answered gruffly. “I value loyalty in my troops, and I am impressed you care for your fellow ponies. You’re a damn good soldier, damn good. However, I can’t just live and let be. Remember, your loyalty is to me above all else. Celestia forgives everything, but I’m just a simple soldier. So I don’t have to. Amen.”

There was then another gunshot, silencing the first voice forever.

Sickened by the “Captain’s” skewed definition of loyalty and forgiveness, the stallion muttered, “Now I really need a damn drink. Might get lucky and forget all about that little moment completely.”

He stumbled to the bar, skeletons littering the floor everywhere he looked. The stallion shoved aside yet another skeleton wearing a tattered cowcolt’s hat and a deputy’s badge, muttering, “Think you’ve lingered here long enough. Closing time’s long gone for you, mate. Shouldn’t be drinking on the job anyways,” as he sat on a stool.

“Chastening the dead, you’re a real patron of society aren’t you…?” the stallion thought to himself as he reached for a bottle of Appleloosa’s Finest. He drank whatever whiskey was left in the bottle, but quickly spat it back out in disgust. As the stallion was rapidly discovering, sand did not make for a very good thirst quencher. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Joy, wonder if any of the other bottles ‘round here are like that? Well, least if there’s any whiskey left it’s bound to have aged well from the looks of this place.”

In the background, a softly strummed guitar tune played from an old radio, the recording scratchy and difficult to make out. But still, the stallion was able to make out what the singer was saying.

“I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart

In my heart I have but one desire
And that one is you, no other will do...”

Absentmindedly, the stallion found himself humming along to the tune. He had to admit it was sorta catchy in a way.

The stallion felt his ears twitch. Something was moving, scurrying about unseen. Whatever it was, it was making a twittering or chattering sound. He trained his ears onto it. It was beneath him somewhere, beneath the floorboards.

The stallion’s eyes narrowed. If he was alone in here, he was a moron. Chances were, if he wasn’t imagining things, he was in a fuckton of trouble. He went for the skeleton’s pistol, held in a belted holster. The gun’s trigger was rather large, suited for an Earth Pony’s hoof.

“Looting the dead, again your moral qualms show no bounds do they?” the mental voice in the stallion’s head snarked. He ignored it, keeping his ears trained all the while. He followed the sounds and aimed his pistol where they were coming from. The hammer cocked and he fired one round into the floor.

Then, what could only be described as a giant cockroach erupted from the floorboards and pounced at the stallion, glasslike wings flared to keep it aloft. The stallion fired another round and pierced the roach straight clean through the thorax. Green blood splattered the area around him. Another roach erupted from the floorboards, splinters flying everywhere like darts and bit down on the stallion’s hind leg.

He let out an ear-piercing scream of pain as the roach went in for another bite, but the stallion whirled around and shot it in the head. Two more roaches, one glowing an eerie, unnatural green, popped up from the floorboards.

“Yep, what’d I say? Fuckton of trouble.”

He fired more rounds as the sky broke open and began to pour, drenching the gray stallion’s fur and armor. His shots went over the first roach’s head and it lunged for the stallion’s face but in an instant he kicked it away. The roach that was glowing green bit down on the stallion’s ear, drawing more blood. The stallion shook his head back and forth in an attempt to throw the roach off. Eventually, the roach lost its grip and hit the wall with a smack, innards splattering everywhere. The first roach scurried away, at seeing this but smirking, the stallion shot it anyways with a sadistic grin adorning his muzzle.

“Any more of you bloody lot want to take a bite out of me?” the stallion growled out, and by this time the chittering had stopped. The scurrying had started up again, sure, but this time it was obvious that the Rad-Roaches had deemed the stallion too big and dangerous of a meal. The stallion went for another bottle of whiskey on a nearby table and to his pleasant surprise, found no sand in it whatsoever and drank it all down.

“Now that hits the spot,” the stallion thought with a smile before his eyes began to wander, scanning the inside of the tavern for anything useful at hoof. “Well, might as well have a look around. Could be something useful ‘round here. Least some ammo, or maybe some more whiskey,”

The stallion then observed the state of his armor.

“First things first though, I need a change, Doubt this piece of shite would last much longer really, looks to be falling apart as it is,” he mused to himself. His point was soundly proven when a piece of the shoulder pads fell off and hit the floor with a clang. He smiled when he saw a skeleton wearing a simple dark brown leather jacket. Quickly disposing of his armor and tossing it aside, the stallion quickly put it on. He also grabbed the local deputy’s Stetson as well, the felt matching his new jacket perfectly. The stallion didn’t know why he grabbed that particular piece of headwear over any other he could have nicked, maybe he just liked it.

As the song on the radio ended, a voice came over the radio. It was female, a rather charming voice.

“Okay, that was “I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire” by The Ponytones, delivered to you live from my studio. Real failure on the part of Equestria to keep that from happening, eh?” The voice chuckled darkly. The stallion could swear the speaker was rolling her eyes at that moment.

“Anyways I’d tell you where I was located of course, as I know you bunch are pretty much clamoring for my autograph, but with the Enclave out and about killing everypony that doesn’t conform to their creed, AKA that is not being a pegasus or a Dashite, I’d rather not risk having to resort to blowing my own studio up… again. I just got this place, you know,” the voice laughed before continuing. “This is Homage, proud bearer of the Element of Honesty delivering you the news, no matter how crappy it is.

“Now, I’ve been hearing rumors of this Gray Ghost character going ‘round the wasteland. Some say it’s just that, simply rumors thought up by scared ponies afraid of Celestia’s wrath for what we as a populace did to her kingdom and fucked it all up 200 years ago. Me personally, considering all the strange things I’ve seen… Well, it’s not that far out of the realm of possibility that he or she exists. Instrument of Celestia’s vengeance? Maybe, maybe not. Could be just some hero going about like ole Littlepip saving ponies’ hides. That’s what I’d like to believe. Less frightening possibility really. Honestly though my dear viewers, don’t let my opinions influence you, at least not on this matter. I know, rather ironic coming from me seeing for a while I was the voice of the truth when the Enclave controlled the airwaves but... Anyways, back to the music.”

Whatever tune this “Homage” was about to play next, the stallion couldn’t hear as the radio cut out, playing its last tune.

“Shame really, I was actually enjoying listening to her. Besides, with my memory as fuzzy as it is, I need all the info I can get.” the stallion thought as he entered a backroom and found a saddlebag and some boxes of ammo which he quickly pocketed. He sighed. No whiskey, at least no good whiskey anyways. Interestingly, there was a badge alongside another skeleton. This time the skeleton was that of a unicorn. The stallion picked up the badge and read it.

“Huh, Iron Helm. Nice name for a pony. Must have been a tough buck to earn that name,” the stallion mused aloud as he observed the remnants of the golden armor that once covered him. “Might as well take the name for myself… With a few minor alterations of course to suit my personal preferences. And species. After all, I doubt this guy would object, would you mate?” He added with a dark chuckle.

Beside the body of the former unicorn lay a doll, light aquamarine in color with a horn, complete with brushable hair. On its flank was a small golden lyre. The newly christened Iron Skies raised an eyebrow. Seems even tough guys had their soft spots. He noted the doll was well kept after, obviously loved by its owner. He’d treated it was like the be-all and end-all of things, from the looks of it. Iron smiled softly at the sight.

With a shrug, Iron picked up the doll and pocketed it in his saddlebags as well. Way he figured it, if this doll was so well-kept and loved, it didn’t deserve to be left out alone here in this storeroom gathering dust. Iron chuckled at the irony of it all. Here he was, a stallion just trying to figure out who he was and very willing to use a gun and yet he was going to look after a simple doll as a favor to somepony long dead.

Iron noted what looked to be a cross between a radio and a gramophone, with two little knobs on it. It lay next to Iron Helm’s body along with a carbine rifle. Like the revolver before it, it had been altered for the use of a hoof. Used copper-colored bullet casings lay beside it. A record was placed in the device, the needle of the device ready to be used. Shrugging to himself, Iron placed the needle to the record and let it play.

“Alright, chances are this will probably be my last transmission, what with those Balefire Megaspells going off all around Equestria right and left and those blasted stripers closing in. Either way you slice it, I’m a dead duck. Hopefully after this last log of mine I’m making, I’ll take a few of those murderers with me,” Iron Helm chuckled wryly before he coughed. “Bit of a shame really, if this is my last stand. Here I was, thinking I was going to become famous and all that. Maybe even make captain one day. Shows what I know, eh? Every little foal’s dream to become a flank-kicking member of the Equestrian Royal Guard. Did that, so at least I’ll go out happy. Defending Equestria to the end. Regrets… Eh, not many really. Maybe not taking out the entire race of zebras with a megaspell, possibly. That… and never getting lucky with a mare. My Lyra doll may have had something to do with that. So what? Sue me. I don’t give a damn anyhow. We’re all allowed like what we want.

“Anyways… Hear them knocking at the storeroom door. Just want to let anypony know, anypony that finds this that I did my duty and served with honor. Give my regards to my brother, Steel Sword, would ya? Make sure he knows that I love him. This is Iron Helm, signing off for the last time.”

With that, the recording ended. Iron shut his eyes in remembrance and sighed softly with a tinge of sadness. It was like listening to a ghost. He muttered to himself, “Hope you went out fighting mate. It’s the least you deserved from the sounds of things. You were a damn good soldier, damn good. And I promise, I’ll get this message to your brother, no matter what it takes.”

Iron’s thoughts took a darker direction as he pondered on the state of the town he’d found himself in. Towns didn’t just end up empty and abandoned. He’d seen the skeletons dotting the main streets, and inside the tavern as well. A few of those could be chalked up to Iron Helm, but the rest? He highly doubted one pony could kill off an entire town all by themselves. Even a mental case wouldn’t do that much damage.

“Bloody Tartarusfire, what happened in this town? Looks like somepony strode into town and killed everypony without a care. No prejudice, no judgment. Just bang bang, killed without a care… Like some great, sweeping force just annihilated everypony. But I know that’s not possible… is it?” Iron wondered to himself worriedly as he walked out of the storeroom. He grabbed a nearby bottle of whiskey and drowned it. “Half of me wants to explore this place further, find out what exactly happened But the other half, probably the rational one, wants me to get clear Who knows what else lurks in the shadows wanting to make a meal out of me? Plus, there’s that burning hulk outside. Chances are, somepony’s going to come around and want to take a look-see. And who’s to say they’ll be friendly?”

Iron’s ears perked up as he then heard the distinctive sounds of both gunfire and angry shouting, along with several explosions. Looks like this place wasn’t as much of a ghost town as he thought. He went back and grabbed the carbine, hoping to whatever deity was watching him it still had some ammo left in it...

Riptalon snarled as he plunged his knife into a raider’s eye socket before socking him in the jaw. He whirled around and then kicked another raider in the knee before headbutting him and plunging his knife into his stomach. He then heard the sound of a battle saddle winding up and dashed behind a wagon as the shots ricocheted above his feathered head. He judged he was outnumbered at least fifteen to one, not counting the two already dead.

Riptalon bit his beak. Taking them head-on was suicide, so he needed to apply some tactics to this battle, sow some confusion and discord among their ranks. It’s how he’d survived so long, thinking his way out of fights when the odds were against him. And they often were.

“Alright you bastards, you want a fight? Well, congrats. You’ve got one,” Riptalon thought to himself as he reached for a grenade. Just then, a huge beefy arm reached out and grabbed him. The griffon’s eyes widened and he muttered “Aw crap.”

Riptalon was soundly thrown right through the side of a window, glass shards flying everywhere and cutting into his fur. When his vision cleared, he saw a truly massive minotaur striding towards him, pounding his fists together, chuckling.

“Well, looky what we have here. The infamous Blackhawk, at my hooves.” The minotaur laughed as the rest of the raiders closed in.

Riptalon spat at him and snarled out “Go to Tartarus...” as he reached for his knife once more. He’d face death with honor, like a real griffon warrior. He lunged forwards and sliced the throats of two raiders before they could even blink. The minotaur snatched him up and punched Riptalon in the stomach, making him cough up blood, before he threw him into the dirt. The other raiders were laughing at the brutal and rather one-sided beatdown.

“This is what you get for crossing Goldeneye, Blackhawk!” One taunted as the minotaur punched Riptalon again.

“You’re a dead little birdy!” another with one eye yelled.

“You’ll die here, and we’ll feast on your corpse!” A third stallion cackled.

“Luna above, can’t they let me die in peace and just shut their traps?” Riptalon thought to himself as he was sent flying by another punch. He coughed again, his gagging only increasing the laughter…

Hearing gunshots and assorted laughter, Iron rushed out to the back of the tavern and up a stairwell to another building’s roof for a better vantage point. Taking cover behind an air conditioner, he peered out from from behind it and saw the minotaur and the rest of the raiders ganging up on Riptalon. Iron let out an involuntary growl before lining up a target in his sights, the one-eyed raider. He fired off a short burst, and the shots went right through the other eye.

“There, now they match jackass.” Iron thought and almost at once everything devolved into chaos as the raiders scrambled to find out where the shots came from. He used his advantage to fire off several more rounds. The raiders reorganized and one pointed to the rooftops.

“He’s up there!” one crowed.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot him, you idiots!” the minotaur roared in fury at his partners’ incompetence. When nobody was looking, Riptalon used the confusion to slowly stand up and knife one of the raiders in the back just as Iron fired off a shot at another raider.

“Who the Tartarus are you supposed to be? The new sheriff in town? The next Deadshot Calamity!?!” A raider laughed, seemingly in mockery.

“I’ll just take that as a compliment, and yeah… Might just be this town’s new sheriff. Certainly needs one if bleedin’ plonkers like you are mucking about just ruining it,” Iron snarked before he shot the raider clean through the heart. He was just about to fire off another shot when he heard a distinct click. His eyes, along with Riptalon’s widened.

“Shit!” Riptalon swore.

“Of all the bloody times to run out of ammo…” Iron mentally growled to himself and tossed the carbine aside for the moment before pulling out the pistol and firing off a few shots downing one more raider. Several raiders closed in on Riptalon, but he smirked and threw a smoke bomb and slashed through the horde.

The minotaur roared and lunged towards Riptalon, even as Iron shot him in the back several times. If there was any effect, it never showed. Iron leaped down from the building’s roof onto the Minotaur’s arm and bit down but was unceremoniously thrown off to the side.

Iron let out a groan of pain and muttered “Maybe disposing of that armor wasn’t such a good idea after all…” before rolling back and shooting the minotaur in the eye. The minotaur let out a roar of both rage and pain and Iron went for his saddlebags, taking out some more rounds and reloading the pistol. He gritted his teeth as the minotaur charged like an angry bear, pouring shot after shot into him in desperation. He turned to Riptalon.

“If you’re going to do something, better do it now! This guy isn’t going down without a fight!” Iron shouted just as the minotaur punched him into a wagon, reducing it to a pile of rubble. His borrowed hat went flying off into the wind. Lightning flashed in the background, illuminating the minotaur’s heavily-built arms and chest muscles.

“Alright, ‘Roid Rage… See how you like this…” Riptalon muttered and flew forwards before punching his opponent in the chest. The minotaur let out a small laugh but that was all he needed. Rip went for one of his grenades and pulled the pin, throwing it down the minotaur’s throat. He leaped away with a shout of “Get clear!”

Iron looked confused for a moment as he staggered to his hooves before his eyes widened as he figured out what was about to happen next. What did happen next was entirely predictable. The minotaur’s head went up in a fireball of blood, gore and brain matter showering everything around. One of his horns landed next to Riptalon as the headless body slumped forward and hit the ground with a loud thud.

Riptalon picked up the horn and smirked as he pocketed it.

“Some trophy,” Iron commented before he drew his gun. “Who the Tartarus are you anyways?”

“Should be asking you the same thing, buddy,” Riptalon snarled as he pulled out another grenade. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pop a grenade down your throat like I did with him over there.” He gestured to the body of the minotaur with a yellow paw.

“Saving your foolish arse isn’t enough?” Iron growled, still keeping his pistol trained on the coal-black griffon in front of him. Riptalon laughed before putting away his grenade.

“True, very true,” Riptalon chuckled before extending a paw. “Trust doesn’t come easy from me or anyone else out here in the Wastes, and I’m still not sure if I should trust you… But for now, consider me in your debt.”

“Still should ask who I’m in debt to,” Iron remarked. The smell of death and decay was beginning to rise from the small massacre that had just taken place. Riptalon chuckled again.

“Riptalon Blackwind. Yours?”

“It’s Iron… Iron Skies.”

Part 2: Nightfall

Old Appleloosa:

Honestly, Iron Skies couldn’t say he trusted this griffon, and it was quite clear the feeling was mutual. He could just feel the griffon’s eyes boring into the back of his skull as they scavenged the leftovers of the mob of Raiders the two had just defeated. Even as he picked up simple things like carbine and pistol ammo, Riptalon watched him as if he was simply deciding on the best way to slit his throat.

“You going to keep watching me like that, or you going to say something?” Iron commented sarcastically as the rainy downpour slowly turned to a drizzle.

“Depends, you come out of nowhere like a ghost and just shoot up that mob and I’ll paraphrase old one eye right there, the new Deadshot Calamity,” Riptalon remarked, his head tilted sideways. He continued to observe the newcomer and the aftermath of the miniature massacre he’d partly been a cause of. He had to admit if only to himself it was quite frightening to see. There was almost no emotion in those eyes when he saw Iron taking shot after shot. Well, there was one. It was an almost sadist like pleasure. He’d only seen that type of pleasure in two places. Raiders, and members of the Grand Pegasus Enclave. For a moment, just for the briefest of moments, he had a thought. Could this pony be the infamous Gray Ghost he kept hearing rumors about? No, that couldn’t be. The Gray Ghost was just a legend, nothing more. But somehow, Riptalon had a feeling he’d stumbled onto a pony that was far worse than any rumor. There was something about him that just told Riptalon to get moving, and to get away from Iron as far as he could and as quickly as he could. “Plus, I’m half expecting you to turn on me in the next minute or so, so yeah, I’ll be on the side of caution here,”

“Saved your life, didn’t I? Should count for something at least, ungrateful bastard,” Iron snapped as he found a flask amongst the bodies, popped it open and drank down its contents.

“Excuse me if I don’t trust somepony who just shows up out of the blue without saying a word about himself except for his name,” Riptalon snarked back. He continued eyeing the stone grey pegasus, and noted the convinent lack of a Dashite brand on his flank. Instead, it was a tall column of storm clouds. His eyes narrowed, either Iron was a Stable-Dweller going out for a stroll in old Appleloosa, or he was dealing with a Enclave soldier. (It certainly explained why he was so good in a fight.) But if that was true, where was the infamous armor that had struck fear in the hearts of griffons, zebras, and ponies alike?

“You could say the same about yourself, you know,” Iron pointed out as he looked back at his new-found “Friend”.

“Yes, well... given trust isn’t something I give out easily. In the wasteland, especially this part of it, that’s a luxury not many can afford. Those that do generally wind up dead… or worse,” Riptalon replied, before shuddering.

“What do you mean?” Iron inquired as he flew back up to the top of the building to grab his carbine and then flew back down again.

“Trust me on this one, there are some things about this place you’re better off not knowing about..” Riptalon warned ominously before trailing off. At this point, the drizzle had stopped completely and the clouds were beginning to break away just as quickly as they had arrived.

“You know, you’re a real pleasure to have around, you know that right? Life and soul of the bloody party, you are,” Iron grumbled.

“...Rudest pony I ever met, so back at you, ya dick,” Riptalon retorted as he wiped the blood off his combat knife with a flask of whiskey he’d kept on himself.

“Wasting a perfectly good drink, you know that right?” Iron snarked.

“Oh right, maybe I should become addicted to the stuff and become like a certain queen of whiskey like you seem well on your way to being,” Riptalon deadpanned, having noticed Iron’s little knicking of a raider’s flask and the fact that he simply smelled of booze. Evidently, he’d had a few shots before Riptalon and his pursuers arrived here.

“And what’s that supposed to mean!?!” Iron snapped, and the sound of teeth grinding against each other could be heard. Riptalon smirked in amusement.

“Oh, nothing,” The griffon began with an offhand wave of his paw. “Just that you seem to be a poor choice for a traveling companion if the first thing on your mind is booze, booze, and more booze.” Riptalon drawled.

“For your information, I-”

Whatever Iron had to say next, it was cut off as sharp howls cut through the nighttime air like a knife. It was a sound that had been known throughout the centuries in the Old West, and it always brought trouble. Always. Riptalon’s eyes widened in what could only be described as fear before they narrowed.

“What is it?” His companion asked as his eyes darted right, and then to left before on instinct he pulled out his carbine and loaded it with another cartridge of rounds. He didn’t like the look on Riptalon’s face, it was like that of a cornered animal. He’d seen this look somewhere before, he just knew it, but he didn’t know exactly where or when that had happened.

“Coyotes, believe me on this, they’re one of the last things you want to run into out here around this time of night,” Riptalon explained, turning his attention to some nearby hills, where the moon was just slowly beginning to peek through the cloud cover. “To them, we’d be nothing but a perfectly good meal. And trust me, once they’ve got your scent they won’t stop until they track you down and rip you to shreds,”

“Like I said, life and soul of the party you are…” Iron muttered to himself. “Any place where we can take shelter from them for the night, or at least be not out in the open?”

Riptalon gave Iron Skies a deadpan stare as he gestured to any one of the many buildings around them. Iron’s face flushed a bright red and Riptalon couldn’t help himself but snigger.

“Oh… Right. Sorry, my bad.” Iron mumbled. Riptalon’s sniggers turned into full blown laughter as Iron muttered “Why I oughta…” to himself and imagined himself viciously killing the rude griffon in various brutal fashions.

The twosome made their way into another building, what looked to be like an old warehouse of sorts. Part of the roof had been ripped or blasted open exposing the interior to the moonlit sky above. Crates of all sorts covered the interior. As the reluctant partners entered, Riptalon pulled out a flashlight and scanned the inside, his eyes darting from right to left at any sign of movement. Rad-Roaches scurried away at the sign of the light, and into the darkness never to be seen again.

“See anything?” Iron asked as he absentmindedly fiddled with his gun while sitting down on a small crate marked “Ubisoft Shipping and Handling”. A small radio was next to him sitting on the crate as well, evidently placed there by the workponies for entertainment and information many years before.

“Nothing… Well, nothing dangerous anyways,” Riptalon commented. “Unless you count Rad-Roaches as dangerous.”

“Considering one of them bit me, yeah. I’d count them as dangerous,” Iron stated, once again showing off his remarkable ability for deadpan remarks. It was then Riptalon’s golden eyes drifted to Iron’s leg, slowly dripping blood into small puddles on the floor.

“You moron!” Riptalon shouted in disbelief. “Y-You Celestia-be-damned moron! You’ve been dripping that stuff all over town and for all we know, those damn coyotes probably are even now closing in on us… Like buzzards to a kill,”

“Not dead yet,” Iron pointed out snidely. “For what it’s worth anyway.”

Riptalon muttered something unkind under his breath as he pulled out some bandages from his saddlebags and wrapped them around the stallion’s leg. Next, he went to the front doors of the warehouse and slammed them shut with a powerful thud.

“Yeah, but we’d both be in danger… Well, I would as you I could care less about, if I hadn’t just handled things,” Riptalon remarked.

“Gee, thanks for the sympathy. I’ll be sure to put you on my Hearth’s Warming Card list.” Iron snarked as he rested his carbine against the crate.

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re not out of the woods yet. This place… It’s hardly what I’d call a safe spot for shelter,” Riptalon muttered. “That great big gaping hole in the roof makes it a perfect spot for coyotes or Death Claws or who knows what else to just jump in and have us for a midnight snack.”

“And yet you locked us in.” Iron pointed out.

“I was just keeping one entrance closed,” Riptalon stated, explaining his reasoning. “If an enemy has to attack us, there’s only one way in for them now. Thinking ahead, helps one stay alive longer. Something you should be investing yourself in,” the griffon sneered. Iron rolled his eyes as he turned his attentions to the radio nearby and adjusted the dials to see if he could get any transmissions to calm his nerves… Or at the very least have someone else to listen to besides a certain griffon. Hopefully someone less condescending.

Sure enough, the mare Iron knew as Homage and her voice came in over the radio.

“Well, hello again Wastelanders! Always nice to hear your lovely voices. Your friendly neighborhood unicorn Homage coming at you here live with the latest news from the Wasteland. Been ten years since that sexy lover of mine Littlepip activated the Single Pegasus Project and cleared the air and gave those damned bastards in the Enclave one Hell of an ass-kicking. Ooh, just gives me an orgasm just thinking about it,” Homage commented lustfully. “Oh, did I say that on air? Sorry to any of you prudes out there. Not!” The mare laughed. “Anyways… NCR’s been fighting the good fight up and down all over the ruins of Manehatten. Seems a squad of those damn Grand Pegasus Enclave members released a hoard of Yao Gaui onto the streets to cleanse Manehatten or some other such shit, and now the NCR’s got one Hell of a job mopping up the mess. All the while those mysertious kidnappers are stealing away ponies left and right in the middle of the night. So do us all a favor, if you’re in Manehatten, do lend a hoof and help out our friends in the NCR… Or at least shoot a Yao Gaui or Enclave Soldier member in the head if you’re just passing through. Does the whole world a favor with one less of those monsters wandering about. If you do happen to see a member of the NCR, give him or her a big thanks. Or at least some ammo. Celestia knows they need it eh?” Homage remarked with a dark chuckle. “Now, from my good friend Velvet Remedy, her take on the old song “Ain’t no Grave. Sleep well everypony.”

Just then, a soft, and rather seductive voice began to sing to the ponies (And griffon) listening in over the radio.

“There ain't no grave can hold my body down
There ain't no grave can hold my body down
When I hear that trumpet sound I'm gonna rise right out of the ground
Ain't no grave can hold my body down…”

Midway through the lyrics, the voice changed from Velvet’s to a rather gravely voice that Riptalon swore he’d heard somewhere before. The song was still the same, but the voice… wasn’t.

At the same time, Iron began to feel a distinctive chill go up his spine and swore he could feel eyes upon him. Maybe he was imagining things, but when he turned his head he saw, up on a catwalk, a thin, pony like figure dressed in a black tattered cloak and fedora vanish away into the darkness right as the music cut out.

“Something wrong?” Riptalon asked, noticing the haunted look on Iron’s face.

“Just… Just could have sworn I saw something…” Iron muttered.

“What kind of something? Look hungry, furry, wolf like?” Riptalon asked nervously.

“No… More like some sort of pony. Vanished as soon as I saw him… or her. Couldn’t really tell.” Iron explained. With a shrug, he tried getting the signal back, but to no avail. Riptalon meanwhile looked mildly disturbed for a moment, before that expression faded quickly enough for Iron to take no notice of it.

Iron meanwhile, picked up his rifle and began traversing through the building keeping an eye peered out for Raiders, Coyotes or whatever those Death Claw things were that Riptalon mentioned to him. Personally, he had to privately agree with the griffon, even if he’d never admit it. He was a Celestia-be-damned moron, (Whatever the Hell Celestia was.) he should have bandaged that wound first thing before he took on the Raiders trying to kill Riptalon.

“Who is he? What exactly did he do to get that many Raiders after him? Who’d he piss off to have fifteen blood-hungry killers go after him? Couldn’t have been his rudeness, could it? Doubt even a smartarse fool like him would be that dumb enough to tick off a bunch of trigger happy fools just by saying something. Stab somepony in the back maybe, ...Maybe even me if I’m not careful.” Iron pondered to himself as he opened up a door to a hallway that presumably led to another part of the warehouse. Curiosity was getting the better of him. Or maybe he was thinking ahead like Riptalon asked him to. After all, the last thing either of them wanted was an ambush. “...And yet I’m walking into a potential one just by taking a gander through this place. Gotta have some kind of death wish here. Firstly, just not killing Riptalon outright when every sense of mine is telling me not to trust him for even a moment, and now wandering about a place that could be filled with things that want to tear me limb from limb.”

Another voice, one that sounded frighteningly like that stallion from his(?) memories commented.

“And yet you haven’t killed him yet. You know why. He’s your guide to living long enough in this Shithole. Learn from him, then kill him.” the voice countered.

“Shut it, dickbag. You’re a real father to your men, you are,” Iron retorted as he walked into another room and was greeted with empty cages. Well, not entirely empty. Some had pony skeletons in them. Other skeletons, wearing thrown together pieces of clothing that had been torn and ripped apart lay scattered across the room. Iron sub consciously crossed himself with a hoof before shouting for Riptalon.

“In here! Think you may have found something you may want to take a look at!” Iron shouted.

“Real epitome of subtlety you are.” the voice remarked. It was soundly ignored. Meanwhile, Riptalon came rushing in and as soon as he saw what Iron was seeing, he let out a little growl.

“I know what happened here,” Riptalon said softly, his voice just barely tingeing on fury. “Slavers, they once resided here and all of them bit the bullet. It’s ponies like them who give scum a bad name if you’re asking me. Rapists and general slime bags, most of them. I’m not exactly a paragon of good virtues and I freely admit that but there’s low and then there’s low.”

“So what happened?” Iron asked, really not sure if he wanted to know.

“Remember that mare Homage mentioned?” Riptalon remarked.

“One that Homage said made her orgasm just by thinking of her, or something like that?” Iron asked bluntly, and Riptalon rolled his eyes.

“Yes, her. Littlepip. The Light-Bringer, Stable Dweller, whatever the Hell you want to call her.” Riptalon said, counting off the names on his paw. “Point is, she and that Calamity fellow came here and stumbled across those bastards in Ponyville. My guess is, it’s possible that they came out this way and stumbled across this. Littlepip always had a knack for exploring and getting into trouble. Also really hated injustice… So, you take a guess what happened here. Just speculation, might not have been her who did this, but...”

Inwardly, even if he wouldn’t admit it, Riptalon had a feeling this wasn’t the Light-Bringer’s work. As far as he knew, Littlepip and her company had never ventured out to old Appleloosa. As far as he knew, he reminded himself. It may have happened, Littlepip for all he knew may have had a few adventures that she never wrote down in her book. He just didn’t want it to be who he thought it was.

“Well, good on her or whoever did this then…” Iron muttered. “Shame I didn’t get to them first.”

Then, he spotted it. It was another of those audio diaries, exactly like the one he’d found in the Salt Lick tavern. He put the needle on the record and let it play…

“Gah! Can’t believe we’re going to have to be staying here for the next couple of days until that sandstorm clears up. I mean, just look at what we have to put up with. All those whiny beggars, always asking for food and water! They get enough, if you ask me,” the voice grumbled. It was a male one, and already Iron was taking a dislike to it. “They can just suck their own cocks or eat themselves if they’re that hungry or dehydrated if you ask me.”

“Oh, go suck your own cock, arsehole…” Iron muttered as he reached for his pistol intending to shut the voice up for good. Riptalon held up a paw to stop him.

“Please tell me you want to just destroy that thing yourself,” Iron growled out. “Because if you don’t… I will.”

“No, let it play. Disgusting as this is, I want to know what happened here. Call it… curiosity...” Riptalon trailed off, though Iron got the distinct feeling he was lying through his teeth. He didn’t know why, but he just did.

“But alas, the boss wants them well fed so we can trade them off to whoever wants ‘em. Honestly, can’t see why. I say we just kill them all and be done with ‘em. Less mouths to feed really. Honestly, there’s this one ghoul here that keeps creeping me out. Used to be a griffon, from the looks of it. Very young one too. Been giving me the evil eye ever since we found her… Honestly, I’ll sleep better once she’s out of our hooves.”

With that, the audio log ended.

“Well, that was real helpful,” Iron said dryly as he turned to Riptalon. “Happy now? Can we just leave this place instead of trying and getting some sleep knowing that… Oh, we’re sharing a home with a whole bunch of dead bodies, some of which might have been rapists. Got to be other places we can spend the night,”

But Riptalon wasn’t satisfied, as he went over to a cage and found another audio log laid next to it. He placed this one’s needle on the recording and let this one play. He was greeted with a different voice, slightly gruffer.

“I’m starting to share that brick brain Red Hot’s opinion on the matter. That griffon… Gives me the creeps. Just the way she stares at you… Those hollow eyes. Can never tell what she’s thinking exactly. Least we don’t have to feed her. I’m not getting any closer to that cage than I have to.” The voice commented Celestia above… Least that other mare her age, the one with the spoon on her flank, is much better. Sure, she doesn’t speak much but at least we’re the cause of that. So glad we… broke her.”

There was a dark chuckle as the recording ended, and both Riptalon and Iron got sick feelings in their stomachs as to what the stallion meant by “Breaking” the mare. It wasn’t long before Iron began to heave. Riptalon for once, showed the signs of sympathy towards the stallion and laid a paw on his shoulder.

“Listen, you’d better get used to this sort of stuff. The Equestrian Wasteland was messed up, fucked up in so many ways beyond belief. Still is, but it’s getting better,” The griffon reassured.

“Sure you don’t just tell yourself so you can sleep better at night?” Iron asked. Riptalon never answered. Instead, he found the final audio log in the room, clutched by a skeleton of what he presumed to be a Slaver. He let it play, afraid of what he was going to find.

What he did find was this, and his fears were justified:

“No… I don’t believe it! She’s broken out! Right now she could be anywhere, in this entire warehouse and we’re all just waiting around for her to kill us all off! She was pissed beyond belief these past few days, and thinking back now she was very calculating. Probably formatting plans on how to kill us these past few days as soon as we raped that friend of hers, Silver something or other. Now… We’re just sitting ducks,” The voice then began to grow more frantic, more terrified. “Oh… Oh no, I can hear her! I can hear them! She’s slaughtering them all in the next room!”

Gunfire was heard, and the sounds of screams and before they quickly changed to that of ponies being ripped apart and gurgling sounds. “Oh… Oh, she’s coming this way. I… I... AAAAAAAAGGGHHH!”

The blood curdling scream brought a slim, sadistic smile to Iron’s face once again, and Riptalon backed up a few paces. Even he was unnerved at how cold Iron was about this. Raiders were scum, sure, but this…?

A few minutes passed, and neither of the two said anything for a long while

“...Well, guess we know what happened here.” Riptalon said, at last, finally breaking the silence. He wasn’t going to sleep well tonight, that much he knew.

Actually, as it turned out he may not get the chance to sleep at all as howls cut through the warehouse. Riptalon’s eyes narrowed and he reached for his knife.

“They’re here…” He said in a low tone while Iron grabbed his carbine.

“Not sure how much good that’s going to do you, birdy, but what’s good for the goose is good for the gander I suppose…” Iron muttered as he readied himself. “Stay and fight?”
“No, at least not here,” Riptalon stated with a shake of his head. “Not enough room in here. We need to get moving, more space to maneuver.”

Then, his choice was made for him as a coyote, mutated by Megaspell radiation with glowing eyes and deep red fur. That wasn’t even going over the long fangs and claws, not to mention powerful muscles it possessed. The beast leaped into the room and pounced at Riptalon. The griffon reacted fast and spun to the left but not fast enough as the coyote whipped around and body slammed him into a wall. Groaning in pain, the griffon threw down a smoke bomb. This time, Iron took advantage of the confusion and rammed it as hard as he could knocking the coyote onto its side.

“Run!”

“What about that thing?” Iron asked.

“Just hope it’s too confused by the smoke to get itself righted again!” Riptalon yelled. “But don’t you worry, there’ll be plenty more where he came from. With coyotes, there’s always one thing you need to know… They’re never alone!”

“Great, cause that makes me feel so much better!” Iron snapped back, not reassured at all.

Both of the two made a break for it down the hallway. A very tight, cramped, cluttered hallway.

“Damn it, not enough room to use my wings in here!” Iron thought as he sprinted down the corridor and rounded a corner with Riptalon not far behind. Another coyote, smaller and with gray fur leaped out of the darkness and was quickly pumped full of lead as another got its throat slashed by Riptalon’s combat knife.

Soon, the two made it back to the wide-open area that they had entered the warehouse from and found themselves in the middle of a hoard of coyotes, each with fangs bared and drool dripping from the muzzles. Both griffon and pony had the exact same thought then…

“Oh, fuck.”

Author's Note

Okay, sorry for no author's notes on the previous two chapters. Hoenstly, couldn't think of anything to say. Okay, first off, if anyone's questioning the Ubisoft gag, it's a joke relating to what inspired Appleloosa here in the first place. In their videogame Red Steel 2, there's this ghost town with just you, a lone store seller and a whole bunch of desert raiders. One of the sequences in the level is a big fight against forty or so of the guys, called Jackals in a huge warehouse, which partly inspired this chapter. Anyways, comments, and constructive criticism are very much welcomed. Honestly, don't know when the next chapter will be out, as the previous two were just test chapters to see if anyone liked this piece, but... Stay tuned fellow Wastelanders for the continuing adventures of Herber-No, Riptalon Hawkwind and "Iron Skies".

Part 3: The Hunted

Old Appleloosa:

Riptalon pulled out his knife and held it close to his face while Iron put another cartridge of ammo in his carbine as the coyote pack circled them like buzzards flocking to a kill. The Coyotes licked their chops and gnashed their fangs together, drool dripping from their muzzles.

“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, isn’t it?” Iron remarked as he trained his gaze and his rifle’s sights on the nearest of the mutated creatures.

“Your stupidity to not properly bandage yourself got the coyotes to pick up your blood trail, so I really should be pointing a talon at you if we’re going to be doing the blame game,” Riptalon sniped back, his eyes flicking left and right as he watched the pack circle them.

“And yet you’re the one who led us to this warehouse to seek shelter for the night and closed off the front door, ergo I should be blaming you for our imminent deaths,” Iron remarked dryly.

“Again, your blood trail. You had to go and get yourself bitten by a Rad-Roach didn’t you ya moron?” Riptalon retorted sarcastically.

“That bleedin’ rad-roaches fault, not mine,” Iron pointed out.

“Oh, so when we die you’re going to start holding up signs saying “Protect the Rad-Roaches” in the afterlife with Princess Luna cheering you on, aren’t you?” Riptalon snarked before smirking in amusement at the imagery, and Iron actually chuckled at that.

“If only to piss you off further, I just might,” Iron drawled, wondering to himself just who the Hell this Princess Luna was. “Oh, this is going to be a thing now isn’t it?”

“Probably.” Riptalon chirped in a mock cheerful tone of voice. “Thought you Trottingham types loved your hunting expeditions…”

Riptalon had to bite back the urge to say “Grand Pegasus Enclave types” instead, as he knew Iron had to be a member of the Enclave by now, he just had to be. Pegasus with no Dashite brand and as far as he knew, no Stables for miles. It all added up. The only question now was, why hadn’t Iron or whoever he really was backstabbed him?

“Probably because he knows, stupid as he is, that he wouldn’t be able to make it out of this alone. He’s biding his time, soon as we’re out of this, he’s going to kill me and make it back to his little sky-dwelling buddies,” Riptalon thought to himself. “Right now though, kept my thoughts focused on the here and now… That is, staying alive and killing these sons of bitches. I’ll worry about Iron later.”

With a sad smile, Riptalon tuned his Pipbuck to the nearest radio station and a old song began to play....

“To the town of Appleloosa rode a stranger one fine day
Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn't have too much to say,
No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip
For the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip,
big iron on his hip
It was early in the morning when he rode into town
He came riding from the south side, slowly lookin' all around…”

“Oh, now you chose the time to play music? Now, of all times?” Iron snapped.

“If I’m going to go down, I’m going to go down with a smile on my face,” Riptalon growled as he spun his knife in his paw before letting out a soft, sad sigh. He knew he wasn’t going to make it out of this, despite how much he wanted to say or think otherwise.

“This is it eh? End of the trail for me? Well, if that’s the case going to take a few of those bastards with me.” the griffon mused to himself.

And then, the Coyotes pounced. Almost in an instance, Riptalon reacted and swung his knife into a coyote’s eye even as it bit down on his arm. The hold relaxed as life left the coyote’s eyes and Riptalon kicked the body away.

Meanwhile, Iron fired off a burst of shots at a coyote, but it leaped on top of a crate and then pounced on him knocking the carbine away from the silvery gray pegasus. The coyote’s jaws began snapping and biting away and Iron moved his head left and right to avoid it being bitten clean off. His hoof went to his pistol and he fired several shots into the creature’s underbelly and it toppled to the ground with a soft whimper, blood staining Iron’s own chest.

Iron grabbed ahold of the body and shoved it aside before leaping to the left as another coyote pounced and Iron went for his carbine before firing several shots into the creature’s skull and it too slumped to the floor with a small whimper.

Riptalon extended his powerful wings and tackled an oncoming coyote and with a mighty twist of his arms, a sickening crack was heard as he twisted the beast’s head a full 180 degrees sideways. Another came from behind, but Iron grabbed it and threw it into a stack of crates before plunging his knife into its spine and ripping it open, blood and gore covering his beak and facial feathers.

Iron meanwhile, looked skywards and saw coyotes leaping in through the hole in the roof.

“You damn bloody fool! You Hell-be-Damned bird brained idiot!” Iron roared as he pointed to the ambush before popping a coyote right through the skull with a carbine shot, brain matter and blood splattering the ground where the body hit. Others landed on the ground and grinned at the twosome, quite pleased at the easy meal. “You’ve boxed us in and they know it! As evidently intelligence doesn’t count for much these days… Yeah, I’m so blaming my death on you when they kill us all! I can see why that bunch was after you, probably got a friend of theirs killed when you pulled something like this, you dick!”

“For the record, that wasn’t what happened and you know it… As for these coyotes… Your fault, again! You got them on our scent in the damn first place!” Nimbus said as he threw a grenade at the front door blowing it wide open in a fireball and a cloud of smoke. “There, problem solved. Now run for it!” he snapped.

“Don’t have to ask me twice…” Iron muttered, making some choice expletives under his breath as he extended his wings and flew out the front door with Riptalon very quick to follow.

The two flew out into the junkyard outside the warehouse as quick as a gale in a whirlwind.

“Keep flying, they’ll be behind us any minute now!” Riptalon ordered, and from behind him, he heard a crashing sound coming from somewhere behind them. It sounded like something very large smashing its way through a wall. And I mean straight, directly through it. At this time, Riptalon reached into his saddlebags and pulled out what looked like a needle and injected it into the leg that one of the coyotes had decided to use as his next chew-toy. It would stop the blood flow for now, but wouldn’t close up the wound completely. Plus, there was the trouble of leftover megaspell radiation from the coyote’s jaws. He’d need to find some Rad-Away to take care of that, and that might be a while, given how far from civilization he was. Not that he minded at the moment, the aftertaste he’d love to prolong for as long as possible.

“Celestia dammit, of all the times to not have a healing potion on me…” Riptalon thought to himself with a sigh.

“Yeah, tell me something I didn’t know!” Iron shouted back as he veered left past a windmill and a coyote tried to leap out at him. In midair, he bucked it towards a pile of metal, and there was the distinct crack of bone as the coyote hit a pile of junk, impaling itself on a pipe sticking out of the pile in the process.

Another coyote, the second of the two that had jumped down through the hole in the warehouse’s roof leaped from behind the junk pile. It had avoided detection, like the coyote before it, thanks to its coat blending in against the darkness of night.

Looking upwards to the nearby windmill that had once provided power to the warehouse, and how close the coyote was standing to it as it ran past, the griffon got a very nasty idea and let an evil smile climb its way onto his beak.

He quickly pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it at the base of the windmill. The resulting explosion echoed like thunder in the two’s eardrums, and then there was the cracking of timber. The windmill fell right towards the coyote, and the spinning blades of the fan severed head from shoulders in one clean cut.

“Sorry, hunt’s over for you kid…No griffon meat for you today.” Riptalon muttered to nobody in particular.

However, next thing Riptalon saw was a blur coming from seemingly out of nowhere and Iron blindsided and pounced upon by the giant red coyote that was obviously due to his larger stature and odd fur coloring that leader of the pack.

These suspicions were only confirmed when the monster of a creature tilted his head skywards to the stars and let out a long howl. It was not just a war cry of a predator’s triumph over its prey, but a call to action as more coyotes leaped out of nowhere and joined him surrounding the two reluctant allies once more.

“Folks were watchin' from their windows,
every body held their breath,
For they knew that handsome ranger was about to meet his death,
about to meet his death
There was forty feet between them
when they stopped to make their play…”

Iron, as he tried to force the set of crimson tinted jaws that were dangerously close to his face shut, looked directly at Riptalon.

“I thought you said it would take him a while to right himself and get his bearings!” Iron shouted in fear, the pack leader’s drool dripping on his face. Iron groaned in disgust as he turned his head to the side.

“...Well, I have been wrong before…” Riptalon mumbled, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice and red finding it’s way to his facial feathers.

“...Why does that not surprise me…?” Iron muttered to himself, still holding back the pack leader’s jaws with his hooves. “Well, you gonna lend a paw, or what?”

“Ugh, fine… Near as I see it, you’d come in handy so I’m not going to let you die yet,” Riptalon muttered before ramming the coyote head-on from the side, knocking it off Iron and sending it into a roll once more. This maneuver, it wasn’t too dissimilar to how he’d faced the creature back inside the warehouse.

And just like back in the warehouse, the creature was quick to recover and came back around for a rushing maneuver, as was the favored tactic of the wolf and coyote breeds. Riptalon rolled to the left as Iron leaped onto the creature’s back, and tried to choke it. However, this was all for naught as he was soundly and unceremoniously thrown off like a simple ragdoll and smacked against a piece of plywood leaning up against a long dead Joshua Tree.

Riptalon’s eyes widened at the coyote’s behavior, and leadership skills. Something about it… It was far too intelligent, far too cunning and vicious to be your normal, run of the mill coyote. There was something… more about it.

“Let’s just hope I’m wrong here about what I think that thing is. If I’m right, we’re in for a real nightmare.” the griffon thought to himself as the coyote came around for another pass at him. Riptalon leaped to the left and tried to swing his knife into the coyote’s eye to at the very least, blind it, but the monstrosity of a coyote was far too quick and sent him flying with a smack of its paw. Riptalon landed right next to Iron and rubbed his head in pain. The coyote howled again and it’s packmates began closing in for the kill…

“Usual tactic for us?” Iron remarked sarcastically, raising his eyebrow.

“First off, there is no us,” Riptalon corrected him. “But… Yeah.”

With that, he threw down a smoke bomb and the two took to the night skies as the coyote barked in anger at the lost kill.

Traveling as fast and flying as far away from the ghost town of Old Appleloosa as they could, the twosome found themselves in a barren stretch of land, shrubbery, and boulders dotting the landscape as far as the eye could see. Above them, the stars could be seen in their full glory casting their glow across the inky black shroud and providing light for the pony and griffon duo on their journey. Riptalon kept his eye on Canopus, the second brightest star anyone could see, as his judgment for True South. Using that, he could figure out the exact direction of Junction Town… Which was exactly where he wanted to be. As far away as possible from that nightmare of a town only a few miles behind them.

Riptalon, as the ground became a blur beneath them thought back to the times when all you could see in the sky was the smog of the Enclave’s cloud cover. Then came the day known as the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows, when the Enclave was given a black eye by the ghoul known as Ditzy Doo and her Sonic Rad-Boom. He still remembered the distinctive green glowing light show that could be seen for miles and the clouds breaking and scattering as the Grand Pegasus Enclave’s airships crashing down in heaps of burning wreckage.
“And yet now I’ve been dragged into another adventure thanks to my own stupidity and curiosity investigating a downed airship. Funny how that works out,” Riptalon thought to himself. “Well, you know what they say about curiosity and cats… That saying might just hold true for me sooner or later.”

Iron pointed to a small set of boulders, that thanks to their unique placement, could be used as an easy spot for defense against any attackers. And he had no doubt those coyotes were still tracking them. He had to give them props for their tenacity, that was for sure.

“There, there’s a good spot.” Iron stated and Riptalon nodded in agreement and the two both set down next to the boulders and laid down their weapons and saddlebags.

“Get some rest, I’ll keep watch for the night,” Riptalon said, picking up Iron’s carbine rifle.

“Thought there was no us,” Iron said, raising an eyebrow again.

“Well, you’d be correct. There isn’t. When we reach Junction Town, we go our separate ways, clear?” Riptalon stated, loading the carbine with a fresh cartridge of ammo.

“Quite, wouldn’t be want to stuck with such an arsehole of a griffon for the rest of my life anyways…” Iron stated as he felt his eyelids grow heavy and he soon began to fall into the land of dreams.

However, his sleep was not to last as he clutched his head in pain as another memory hit him like a tidal wave...

“You’re a determined one, aren’t you? Tenacity should be a reward in itself in this group of ours, always keep trying to escape like a rat,” A voice said. Iron’s eyes widened, it was that same voice he’d heard in his first memory flash. “Celestia’s given you gifts, and I must admit… You do know how to use them. Though a hundred crooked paths may conduct to a temporary success, the one plain and straight path of public and private virtue can alone lead to a pure and lasting fame and the blessings of posterity. I’d suggest you’d head my advice.”

“F-Fuck… You.” Another voice coughed out before the sound of hoof hitting flesh was heard and then a scream of pain and the sound of a bone cracking joined it.

“One buck goes into the waters of baptism. A different buck comes out, born again. But who is that buck who lies submerged? Perhaps what it is, it’s that swimmer is both a sinner and a saint, until he is revealed unto the eyes of ponykind,” The first voice commented. “No animal is born free, except the for us, the pegasi. And it is our beast of burden to care for the rest of creation. Do you understand now? Our duty?”

“Again… Fuck you.” the second voice rasped out before the first voice sighed.

“Oh well, I tried… You could have been a good soldier for us, but it seems not all can be… turned.”

Next thing that was heard was a gunshot and the rest was silence.

“No… NO!” Iron screamed out in terror as he came back to the real world, and found he was clutching the Lyra doll to his chest like a lifeline. Nearby, carbine resting on a rock was Riptalon, his eyes peered out to the horizon beyond and ears listening for even the faintest trace of the coyotes. Paws snapping twigs, yelps, growls, anything.

“Nightmare already?” Riptalon asked as he turned his head back to face Iron. His grenade belt had been set aside laying on a small rock.

“Yeah, that’s all it was. A nightmare, simple as that.” Iron stated as if he was trying to force himself to believe it. Riptalon’s eyes looked at the Lyra doll and he burst out laughing.

“Really, one of those things? You’re such a little filly,” Riptalon teased. “Need any milk to go along with it?”

“Screw you, there’s a reason I’m holding onto this. Although a keg of whiskey would be nice about now really, definitely works better to calm the nerves than milk ever did for me,” Iron shot back.

Riptalon eyed the Lyra doll in interest. Why was it so important to the pegasus? It certainly wasn’t his own, these things hadn’t been made in years and it was very well kept after to be sure. Not even one of the hairs was out of place and the Cutie Mark of a small golden lyre was still very visible.

“Sadly, or perhaps not, I don’t have one of those,” Riptalon deadpanned. “Still curious as to why you’ve got a brushable doll though,”

“I’m holding onto it for somepony, simple as that,” Iron stated with a huff.

“Yeah yeah,” Riptalon muttered, not believing him for an instant. “Suit yourself.”

“While we’re off going on asking personal questions about each other, suppose I should probably be a bit of a clever clogs myself and start asking about you,” Iron commented, still panting and sweating heavily from the memory flash. He wanted to tell himself it was just the temperature, but he knew that was wrong as it was freezing and even if it was still hot, he probably wouldn’t have believed himself anyways. “Listen, like it or not, for who knows how long-”

“Trust me, it won’t be that long,” Riptalon interjected.

“As I was saying, what got you into that little mess with those arseholes back in that town? It can’t be just plain stupidity, well probably some of it is knowing you, but why do I get the feeling you did something you shouldn’t have?”

Next thing Iron knew, Riptalon was holding his knife dangerously close to his throat.

“Listen, if you value your next breath, I’d advise you not to say anything more. What’s my business is my own,” the griffon growled out.

“Funny thing coming from you,” Iron commented. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeing me up as a potential threat. Sharpening that knife when you think I’m not looking, ready to stick it into me. Either you’re completely paranoid, or completely psychotic. Could be one or the other. Maybe it’s both,”

“Shut your trap okay?” Riptalon growled. “Alright, I admit it. I trust you about as far as I could throw you,”

“Well, clearly,” Iron deadpanned. “So why are you so keen on protecting me?” He inquired.

“You’re a good fighter with that carbine you so graciously let me borrow, and I can use you as a meat shield if worst comes to worst and we run into more Raiders,” Riptalon replied. “Now, you going to shut that mouth of yours before I shut it for you?”

“Oh, come off it. Somehow I don’t believe you,” Iron commented as he set a certain doll aside.

“Yeah, yeah, believe what you want,” Riptalon said, with a roll of his eyes. “You’re just a hired hand, and I don’t care jack-shit about you or your well-being got that?”

“Well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander I suppose…” Iron mumbled to himself.

Once again, Iron felt his eyelids growing heavy. Then, he shivered from what he knew had to be the cold this time, and with a sigh of disgust, Riptalon pulled the pegasus into his chest feathers. Riptalon just looked skywards when he saw Iron nuzzle into it like a pillow and mumble “So warm…”

Iron on the other hand just continued to snuggle in deeper and smell Riptalon’s scent. It smelt of blood from his recent excursion, but it also smelled like desert wildflowers and other things as well.

“You gotta be…” The griffon muttered to himself as he shook his head before saying “Just don’t get any ideas, okay?”

To his shock, he found himself wrapping a giant black feathered wing around Iron protectively and pulling him in closer. Riptalon got a good smell of Iron as well, the smell of old booze and desert sand. Not quite as pleasant as Riptalon smelled to Iron, to be sure.

“Celestia dammit all, can’t be growing soft, and I certainly can’t be actually enjoying this Enclave Soldier’s company,” Riptalon mused to himself. “He’d sooner slaughter me than do anything else. But the question remains… Why hasn’t he?”

What was worse, in fact, was that Riptalon owed him his life. Without his fighting skills, Riptalon would have been slaughtered by that group of Raiders back in Old Appleloosa.

“For Luna’s sake, probably best for me and my sanity that I keep my promise and dump him in Junction Town as soon as we get there,” the griffon continued to muse. It was then he spotted something curious on Iron’s right lower foreleg. It was a brand, one with the letter “C” and then an “S” following it.

Riptalon chuckled to himself. So he did have a brand after all, just not the type he was expecting Iron to have.

“But why…? What’s so important about it? It’s probably a pair of initials, that’s a given. But for who? Wife, child?” Riptalon mused and then chuckled again as he looked at Iron, still snuggled into his chest feathers and mumbling an incomprehensible name in his sleep. “Husband?”

Then a low growling sound reached Riptalon’s ears and his eyes narrowed. Company. He very quickly shook Iron awake and tossed him his gun.

“Sorry to disrupt your beauty sleep, but we’re not alone anymore,” Riptalon said gruffly as he pulled out his knife. Sure enough, from out of the shadows was the pack of coyotes and leading them was that red-furred monstrosity. All the while, Riptalon’s thoughts were running wild. He’d never known any breed of coyote to track a target this far or to be this bold in fact. There was something off about that pack leader, the way he lead them. There was only one type of creature that could lead a pack of canines that well and that efficiently. Only one type of canine that had mastered the nighttime hunt so well.

The pack leader rushed towards him again in a blur of speed, but this time Riptalon was the wiser and scored a slash on his side. During that pass, he noticed something that proved his theory. It was the way the coyote’s muzzle and eyes looked. They weren’t that of a coyote’s not fully. No, they were more… wolfish.

Author's Note

Okay, so really, not much to say on this one. By now, I suppose it's fairly easy to guess who Iron Skies is an Expy of. Also, speaking of expys, that pack leader of the Coyotes is one himself in a way. I saw this Justice League episode a while back (Hereafter), and basically what happened there was after a battle with a group of villains devoted to killing the Man of Steel, Toyman accidentally sends Superman 30,000 years into the future. Elsewhere, all the while, the whole world mourns the supposed loss of Superman and the Justice League learns to fight without him. Anyways, enough episode summaries. What my point is, basically at one point Superman, under a red sun, is forced to contend with a pack of wolves lead by a red furred wolf, which inspired the beast and it's pack here.

Part 4: Always Something Bigger

Snapping and snarling, the red monstrosity of a coywolf closed in. It almost seemed to be grinning, that is, if a coywolf’s muzzle was designed for smiling at you without looking like it wanted to eat you whole in one bite. If Riptalon could hazard a guess, the coywolf was joined by about nine of his packmates, all looking equally hungry.

“So, we running again?” Iron remarked groggily as he went for his pistol and put in what bullets he had left, and letting the rounds tumble in their chamber. His instincts, the kind scientists called fight or flight began to awake and his wings began to extend to their full length.

“No, I’ve had about enough of running and hiding from this pack,” Riptalon growled out, twirling his knife in his paws. “We’re going down, maybe… But we’re not going down without a fight.”

Riptalon let out a roar of rage as he tackled the coyote nearest him and plunged his knife into it’s skull before ripping it out and then whirling around and throwing the knife with as much force as he could muster up. It twirled end over end as it flew towards the skull of the pack leader, but the coywolf dashed to the left and rebounded off a yucca tree before tackling Riptalon to the ground. The knife, meanwhile, implanted itself in a boulder as Riptalon darted his head left and right to avoid it being captured in the coywolf’s massive jaws.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a thing for me,” Riptalon snarked before headbutting the coywolf and snapping at him with his beak before balling up his paws and socking the coywolf with a hard right cross. The coywolf stumbled back rearing up on its hind paws as it howled in pain and Riptalon used the chance to scuttle away for his knife but two more coyotes leaped in, presumably to barricade his path.

Nearby, Iron flew to the left as a coyote jumped right at him before he shot it right between the eyes. Suddenly, from the left he was blindsided by another coyote, using it’s pack leader’s maneuver and flanking him as it went for the throat. Iron grabbed the jaws with his hooves and began prying them away from his vital area, before using on hoof to swiftly stir up some sand in the coyote’s eyes.

Iron dashed away and rolled for his gun before firing off two quick shots at the coyote’s legs making it stumble to the ground and it hit the side of its head on a rock with a distinct cracking sound. But the death would not go unavenged, as another coyote leaped over the body right at Iron who fired another shot between the eyes brain matter and blood flying out the other side of the hole along with the bullet in a clean through and through. However, Iron didn’t see what came next as he found himself rammed head on into a tree, the very same tree, in fact, the coywolf had rebounded off of and his pistol went flying from his hooves…

A voice cut through the air, gravely and aged, weary in its tone.

The coywolf took a step back, almost as if in fear before it continued trodding forwards. This, as it turned out would be the last moves it would ever make.

As the coywolf closed in for the kill, something stopped it as a black clothed figure came out of seemingly nowhere and grabbed the pistol and fired several shots into the coyote’s brain. It was probably more than what was needed, but the outcome was still the same. Before Iron could say anything, the figure vanished as quickly as he came, leaving nothing behind but another full clip of ammunition.

Riptalon ducked as one of the two coyotes took a running leap towards him before he used his long talons to rake it’s belly, blood covering and soaking his fur. Riptalon then leaped over the other coyote and pulled the knife out of the boulder it had wedged itself in.

With a quick slice, that coyote too was felled. Riptalon smirked as he looked at the sea of snarling faces before him.

“Alright now, any of you bastards want to take me? Come on, fresh meat right here!” He taunted, narrowing his eyes at the red creature who lead the pack. He bellowed out: “You’re like sheep, following your shepherd, that mutated half-breed who leads you! Scared you into following him, when I’ll bet you’d like nothing more than to rip ‘em limb from limb!”

It was right then and there Riptalon realized he’d made a very large mistake as he heard a growling sound coming from behind him, and felt drool dripping onto his shoulders. He looked upwards and saw the telltale gleam of eyes in the dark as several more coyotes came in from behind. He remembered his words from only a few mere hours before.

“Great, cause that makes me feel so much better!” Iron snapped back, not reassured at all.

“Right…” Riptalon muttered as the red coywolf that had bit, clawed and probably eaten its way to the top smiled at him again. If he’d had the time to, Riptalon would have shuddered. That thing, the intelligence level on it was frightening, and that wasn’t even getting into its tenacity. “The damn thing probably taught all of a wolf’s tricks to its pack. And one of those tricks was to come from behind with another group.”

Two shots rang out, and two massive gray furred bodies slumped to the sand next to Riptalon. There stood a very familiar pony, clutching a very familiar pistol gripped tightly in his hooves.

“Knew you couldn’t survive without me,” Iron teased. “How’d that song go? Oh yeah… “He's an outlaw loose and runnin'”, came a whisper from each lip “And he's here to do some business with a big iron on his hip, big iron on his hip”.”

“Just shut up and shoot,” Riptalon muttered. “Be a hell of a lot more useful than you singing like some damn fool stallion. Still not entirely convinced you’re aren’t.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Iron deadpanned before he leaped to the left to avoid the coywolf leaping at him, completely furious at the death of his pack mates and reached out and grabbed the carbine in a flurry of motion. The other coyotes leaped from out of the shadows, and gunfire from Iron’s carbine lit up the makeshift campsite as shot after shot rang out across the desert and bodies thumped to the ground. One coyote got lucky enough to weave between the bullets and his pack mates’ bodies dropping one by one and pinned Iron to the sand, the only thing between Iron and his jaws being the carbine. As the coyote gnawed down on the carbine’s casing, it took all of Iron’s strength just to hold it back before the carbine finally snapped in two, right down the middle.

There was only one appropriate reaction for this.

“Aw shit…” Iron thought as he saw the gleam of the coyote’s eyes. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Meanwhile, Riptalon and the coywolf circled each other, Riptalon’s knife drawn and the coywolf’s teeth bared.

“So, what you gonna do now that all of your little puppies are dead eh?” Riptalon taunted before he rolled to the left as the coywolf rushed him but was then blindsided from the right by the same tactic.

Rubbing his head in pain, his vision blurry from the sheer force of the hit, he saw Iron’s predicament and looked towards his knife.

“Alright then… Hate to part with you old girl… But, needs must.” Riptalon said before throwing the knife at the coyote, who by now had his jaws perilously close to Iron’s head. It impacted dead on, nailing the coyote in the side of his muzzle and Iron took the hint. With a swift movement, he pulled it out of the coyote’s muzzle and slashed it across the neck and the body hit the dirt with a loud thud.

“I want that back, you hear?” Riptalon shouted as he slashed the coywolf across the side of his face, and it howled in pain, blood dripping from the deep gouge mark. “More where that came from, asshole.”

“Not making any promises I can’t keep, I can see why you like this thing! Crude as all Hell, but damn thing works like a charm. Bet you money I could charge into a whole den of those fuzzballs and come out unscathed! Seems to work for you!” Iron shouted back, as he looked at the fallen body of the coyote with a rather sadistic smirk and thought “So the scavenger becomes the scavenged.”

“Cocky bastard!” Riptalon snapped as he struck the coywolf across the face with a hard right hook.

“Look who’s talking!” Iron retorted as he bucked the coywolf in the side sending it flying and it hit the ground, tumbling over and over, kicking up dirt as it rolled to a stop. Both Riptalon and Iron slowly and very nervously trodded up to the body of the seemingly unstoppable hunter.

“Is it… dead?” Iron asked with more than a hint of trepidation.

“Kid, after a buck like that to the ribs, I’d be more surprised if it isn’t,” Riptalon replied. And he wasn’t disappointed. Both feathered Wasteland dwellers then found themselves taking several steps back as the coywolf’s paws moved before they gripped the sand as it slowly, but surely picked itself off the ground.

It staggered but still continued moving forwards and Iron went for his pistol as he tossed the combat knife back to Riptalon, who thought: “Damn thing’s just like an Alicorn, you can’t keep it down!”

“For pony’s sake… Can’t you just stay dead?” Iron shouted, completely terrified at this seemingly unstoppable killer. But nothing was unstoppable, not really. A loud, angry roar cut through the night, and it was at this moment something huge, and seemingly made of wall to wall of black fur and muscle leaped out of nowhere charging onto the scene, massive paws kicking up dirt with every stride. Riptalon, knowing that exact roar of rage pulled Iron into some nearby bushes and quickly put a paw to his mouth and hissed “Be silent.”

“Yao Gaui…” the griffon whispered in both awe and horror as the truly massive bear took one single swipe at the coywolf, who dodged to the left and tried to latch onto the bear’s front leg as it stood up on its back and roared in anger at being disturbed from its slumber. This time, however, the coywolf was the one being thrown off and it hit a boulder, and his neck snapped with a sickening crack.

“Lesson one of the Wasteland…” Riptalon muttered both to himself and Iron. “Always something bigger than you out there.”

Next, the Yao Gaui quickly began sniffing the air around it, and it’s nose quickly picked up the smell of blood and its eyes narrowed. Riptalon’s own shrunk to the size of pinpricks as the Yao Gaui began padding around the area in search of the source.

Iron wrenched away the hoof that was covering his mouth.

“Oh, you just had to go and get yourself covered in blood didn’t you?” He hissed.

“Well, it’s not like I knew that thing would show up, would I?” Riptalon replied back. The Yao Gaui continued pacing back and forth around the area sniffing, with its nose to the ground.

“And yet it did,” Iron snorted as the two began making their way through the bushes, hoping the that the Yao Gaui would attribute the ruffling to something too small to be worth noticing and therefore, killing and eating.

Suddenly, Iron let out a scream of pain as he clutched the barrel of his chest from where the coyote had rammed him previously, his battlefield adrenaline finally fading. At the same time, the Yao Gaui’s ears perked up, and it’s glowing eyes turned towards the direction of the bushes and it lumbered towards both Iron and Riptalon.

It took a swipe with one massive paw, and Riptalon and Iron ducked their heads to avoid being decapitated.

Then, two gunshots lit up the night and impacted the gigantic bear as a lone griffon appeared, armor covering her chest, and two holsters strapped to her back legs.

In her paws were two 45 calibre pistols, and her glare was as sharp as steel. Her head was covered in pure white feathers, dyed a light blue in some spots and a Golden Pipbuck was strapped to her left front leg.

“Alright you fucker, now you’re dealing with me…” The griffon remarked, before holstering her weapons and pulling out a flare, and threw it right in the Yao Gaui’s face and a bright red flash lit up the night. The pistols quickly made their reappearance as the now blinded bear roared both in rage and in pain.

She poured shot after shot into the Yao Gaui and eventually it fell to the ground with a mighty thud. Sighing in relief, the griffon pocketed her weapons and turned to both Riptalon and Iron, still hiding in the bushes.

“Well, you two idiots coming out of there, or what?” She asked snappily in annoyance. Riptalon groaned as he trodded out of the bushes, supporting Iron with an arm.

“Hello, Henri…” He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

Author's Note

Okay, a lot shorter than I would have liked, but honestly I really couldn't think up a good ending to the opening arc so I just went with whatever came to mind. Probably a bit of a cop-out, I know, but can't do anything about it now. Also, "Henri" is property of Mimezinga and I credit him or her with her creation. Next, huge thanks to the Stratrovarian for teaching me how wolf attacks would go down. And while I'm not sure if the story this universe is set in (Survivor's Guilt) has Murky Number Seven in it's canon, I'll just assume it doesn't and if it does turn out to be canon to that universe, this can be a branching off point from Survivor's Guilt. As a certain set of twins like to say, Constants and Variables. Constants and Variables.

Part 5: My Father's Gun

Riptalon stared Henri down, eyes locked with both griffons reaching for their weapons. Riptalon went for his combat knife while Henrietta went for her twin pistols, nicknamed Black and White Rose respectively.

“Henri,” Riptalon greeted, his voice sounding very much like he had a history with her. And a not too good one at that. Given what little Iron knew about his companion/constant pain in his arse, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. As Riptalon and the newcomer continued staring each other down like a pair of gunslingers at high noon, Iron was suddenly hit with yet another memory flash.

“So…” an older stallion’s voice asked as ragtime piano-based music played in the background. “That’s your position?”

“Yeah, so fuck you and the high horse you rode in on mate,” another voice responded, Trottingham accented. “Been wanting to say that for a very long time, and now I finally get to tell you that face to fucking face.”

“Well then…” the older stallion answered before the sounds of crackling electricity filled the room and then, horrific ear-piercing screams of pain. “Let me teach you a lesson. Something I learned in my youth. As a young little colt, I had a dog named Bill. Like all dogs, Bill was a loyal friend. If we had not fed him, Bill would have been loyal. If we had struck him, Bill would have been loyal. Only when the inferiors below us, the ones in the Wastes the Zebras created, can we make that claim will he take his place in society.”

“You’re... “ the other stallion coughed out. “You’re sick. You and your sense of morality… Completely fucked up beyond belief. You’re completely insane, you know that? My brother was right about you. Right to the very end, when you killed him,”

Another scream of pain, and laughter followed it.

“You know… Despite all your preaching about how it’s the Zebras fault about Equestria went to Hell… You seem to forget history,” the other stallion continued to comment, despite all the pain and suffering he’d been put through. Iron had to admire him, whoever he was. The buck had serious balls, cast iron ones probably. “You wiped the slate clean to fulfill your own mental reasonings. Celestia, as much as you worship her, is as much as at fault here as well. She abdicated, you know. Right after Littlehorn Valley. If she hadn’t… Well, then this whole mess might not have happened eh?”

A roar of rage, and another scream followed.

“We’ll keep going at this, right up until you submit. President Winter Breeze will have you one way or the other, that’s my promise to her.”

“Funny, would Winter Breeze actually let you go through with this?” the other stallion asked with a dark chuckle. Iron could almost see him smirking. “Let me ask you this… Hell, ask yourself… Who are you more afraid of? Celestia’s judgement… Or hers?”

The older stallion faltered for a moment, for just a brief moment. But soon he regained his composure. “Lady Celestia forgives everything, but I'm just a prophet... so I don't have to. Amen. Now… ask yourself, Are you afraid of Celestia, Nimbus Breaker… Or are you more afraid of me?”

And then the screams started once again.

“..You two going to shoot each other, or have public sex right in front of me?” Iron laughed, before coughing and wincing in pain and trying to ignore the rather horrific memory as best as he could.

This earned him a glare from both Henri and Riptalon.

“...The flying fuck you nitwit?” Riptalon growled before muttering “...Have half a mind to turn my knife on you just for even suggesting that…”

Iron snorted even as he felt his chest ache in pain, he’d been expecting that sort of reaction. He’d just said it to get a rise out of Riptalon. Though he had to admit, even to himself, Henri and Riptalon probably would make a good couple. Shooting and looting the scum of the Wasteland, the fre-

Iron stopped himself. Where the Hell had that come from? Far as he could see, or what little of it anyways, the Wastelanders were just normal ponies trying to get by in whatever way they could. Hell, probably even those Raiders were probably just trying to make a living and survive in their own way. Wasn’t like this place seemed to have any sort of organized government, really.

“Hell no! Me even having… relations with this backstabber just… It’s just… Gah!” Henri screeched. “Who the Hell do you think you are anyways?”

With that, she whirled around to face Riptalon again.

“Where’d you even pick up this bastard anyways?” She barked out in anger.

“Found this dipshit wandering the ruins of old Appleloosa, been nothing but trouble ever since for me and a sheer pain in my backside,”

“Seem to recall this “Sheer pain in your backside” saved your life, at least more than once,” Iron retorted sarcastically. “Or is your memory as fuzzy as mine?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Riptalon snarled. At about this time, Henri began laughing her head off, rolling on the sand cackling like a deranged hyena and clutching her sides.

“What’s so funny?” Riptalon snarled.

“Oh… Oh, this is just too rich!” Henri sniggered, getting up off the ground and wiping tears from her eyes. “Just… just you two. Sure you two haven’t had angry, hot, passionate, sex yet? You’re too perfect for each other. A chronic backstabber of a mercenary and an amnesiac. Sounds like a match made in Heaven if you asked me,” Henri teased.

Both Iron and Riptalon gave her disgusted looks and then looked at each other and recoiled.

“No way in hell am I shagging him!” Iron snapped, still clutching the barrel of his chest in pain. “Guy’s an arsehole!”

“What he said!” Riptalon shouted, putting his two cents in before he turned to Henri. “What the Hell are you doing here anyway?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story…” Henri began. “First things first, let’s get that idiot pegasus friend/fuck buddy of yours healed up.”

Iron groaned at the nickname before he asked “Can we at least do it somewhere else? The smell of that bear and those coyotes is starting to kill me faster ever than blood-loss ever could,”

“Agreed, although Henri… Do me one thing…” Riptalon asked. “Just don’t say you’re on a mission from Gawd. That line got old years ago.”

At that, Henri actually laughed.

One Week Earlier: Junction Town

Shots rang clean across the small, but functional shooting range of Junction Town as Henri fired shot after shot into the targets that had been set up. Each shot, a bullseye. This was her personal way of venting at the hand life had dealt her, and what a crappy hand it had been.

First, there had been her father. Killed on some mission by somepony unknown, and she didn’t even remember why her father had been on that mission, to begin with really.

Then there was her… That little filly, Puppysmiles. Celestia and Luna knew how, but that strange, hyper little filly who always had a constant smile on her face had gotten to her. She was always finding a new way to get in trouble, but somehow… in some damned, fucked up way, she’d gotten to her.

Henri had liked to consider herself a lone wolf, tied down to nobody, no faction. But Puppysmiles… She’d brought a light into her life that she never knew she could possess.

Firing off several more shots into the targets, scoring headshots each time, she growled.

Then, IT had to have happened. Puppysmiles just had to up and die on her! Her little sister, although she would never have admitted it when they first met, that filly had to have passed on to the next world and leave her behind!

Henri screamed in rage as she punched a wall, cracking it and drawing blood from her balled up paw.

“Damn… Damn it… Why…?” Henri whispered, small tears dripping onto the floor from her eyes. “Honestly… I’d have been better off the way I was if I’d have never met you. Might have spared me the pain, and the hurt. I gained a sister… only to lose you! I… I know you had to die, be with your mother again… But… But couldn’t you have stayed with me a little longer?”

As Henri wiped away the tears from her face, a song played over the radio.

“From this day on, I wear my father’s gun

I'd like to know where the riverboat sails tonight
To Neigh Orleans well that's just fine alright
Cause there's fighting there and the company needs men
So slip us a rope and sail on round the bend
As soon as this is over we'll go home

To plant the seeds of justice in our bones
To watch the children growing and see the women sewing
There'll be laughter when the bells of freedom ring…”

As the song continued, Henri chuckled as she reloaded her pistols and studied one of them intently. She knew it, the tune being played. Colton John, “My Father’s Gun”. She laughed at the dark irony of the song being played. How apt it was for her, really.

“Hey nifty Equestria! It's me, your leader and the one nobody questions, old Red…” The female voice said in an intentionally terrible version of Red-Eye’s voice before breaking out into sharp laughter. “I… I’m sorry, I couldn’t take it anymore. Celestia above, my sides hurt! No worries folks, it’s just me, your friendly neighborhood Element of Honesty, Homage!”

As the words “Element of Honesty” were brought up, Henri cast a glance to her own Pipbuck, clad in a bright shining gold color scheme, like a beacon of hope across the Wasteland. Honestly, she wasn’t quite sure how, but she’d become a bearer of an Element herself. In her case, it was Magic.

When asked about it, the former Kindness Bearer Fluttershy had theorized that it was perhaps the magic of Henri’s friendship (As corny as it sounded to the Griffon) that had bonded the Element to her.

“That's me, fillies and gentlecolts. Comin' to you taped from my fortified bunker in the middle of an Equestrian Wasteland Hellhole. Ain't life grand? Ah, anyways… That was Colton John… God, if he wasn’t dead and interested in bucks I probably would have fallen for him myself I admit,” Homage laughed. “Great singing voice, always manages to bring a tear to this pony’s eye. ...Well, unless it’s he’s singing “The Bitch is Back.” Not so above it all to play air guitar to that, this pony admits.”

“If you excuse me for a minute, I’d like to tell you about my dear Toaster-Repair Pony Littlepip… Celestia knows I wish she was back, cause my toaster’s broken… again,” Homage muttered and grumbled something about machines never working when you wanted them to before clearing her throat. “Anyways… About to be ten years to the dot in a few days when Littlepip activated the Single Pony Project and gave the Enclave bastards one Hell of an ass-kicking and loosened their hold on the Wastes and actually gave us a chance to make ourselves a government and take back Equestria for our own. Day of Sunshine and Rainbows, ya know?” Homage remarked with a laugh. “Anyways… Just because she’s in that tower doesn’t mean you can’t go and visit her… Though if you’re asking for a night with her, sorry to say she’s quite taken. I’d tell you the nights we spent together and how lovely they were, but for all I know there may be little kids listening on this. Can’t scar their little minds now can I? Velvet Remedy would have my head on a platter. ...Actually, I should probably be careful anyways, Celestia and Luna know I’ve been spouting off curses right and left, eh?”

At this, Homage laughed nervously. “Lemme tell you, Velvet Remedy, not a mare to anger. No wonder her husband’s so scared of her at times. ...Can tell who the dominant one in that relationship is can’t you? ...Crap, did it again didn’t I?”

Henri laughed a little, and sniggered when she swore she heard a female voice comment “Yeah, you really did Homage!” in the background of wherever Homage was recording from. Nopony knew really, and that was probably for the best given the Enclave still had remnants out and about who would love nothing better than to shoot Homage dead just to get back at Littlepip for breaking the cloud cover.

“Oh, one last thing. Don’t feed the Yao Gaui. That is all. Now, back to the music, and a tribute to my dear Littlepip. This is for you, a song from the late Tom Pony,”

“You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free
Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you
You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free
Run away, go find a lover
Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover
You belong in that home by and by…”

Henri chuckled and muttered “Never change Homage, never change...” to herself. She sniffled as she wiped away another tear. The song fit Puppysmiles so well, so kind, so innocent to the Hellhole that was the Equestrian Wasteland. She deserved better than what she got.

Henri grimaced, she couldn’t let anyone see her cry. Death was a part of life, and she knew it. Time to stop grieving and re-join the fight. The Enclave wasn’t going to stop until all of Equestria was theirs, and Henri would be damned if she’d let them or President Winter Breeze have it.

Henri wandered through the place that the NCR called home. Well, Junction Town wasn’t really a town as such in the traditional sense. It was really a mish-mash of repurposed train cars and old buildings that Gawd’s Talons had fixed up for living quarters and other purposes.

As she walked through the town, she smiled as she saw the giant statue of Littlepip herself in the distance. Sometimes, she’d seen a blue-maned unicorn stare up at it and smile. Other times, there was a black and red haired pony, pure white in fur color there whispering to herself when she thought nopony was listening “I can do better. I’m not an executioner.”

Henri, in her time at Junction Town had grown to know everypony. Small towns were like that, no matter when or where you were.

She smiled when she saw two little fillies playing in the street and splashing water on each other laughing and giggling in joy. One was a little zebra filly with her mane tied in a braid and the other was a small little pegasus with blue fur. Her mane mostly matched, but with white streaks in it.

Henri chuckled when she saw the Zebra filly tackle her friend playfully. Even in the Wasteland, there would always something to make somebody smile.

She waved at one of her neighbors, an older stallion from a Stable that she’d gotten to know over the past few years. The stallion was a nice enough fellow and went out of his way to make everypony happy, keep their spirits up.

When you were in a war with terrorists who could very easily bomb you and your town in a powerful Blitzkrieg attack if they so chose, it was best that the civilians weren’t constantly in fear. In the early days of the Enclave/NCR war, Regina Grimfeathers had often worried that there would have been riots now that everybody knew the Enclave was still alive and kicking under a new leader.

Henri shuddered, she still remembered Winter Breeze’s first broadcast like it was just yesterday.

“My dear Equestria, the Enclave has returned better than ever before. You may have heard of our past actions, but I am here to tell all of you that things are different now. The Enclave is here to help Equestria, we offer aid to any settlement, tribe, or Stable in the Wasteland. Our world has become a ruined place, while there are ponies who have been trying to rebuild, they do nothing but stave off the greater problem. Corruption, disease, starvation, the New Canterlot Republic and its allies does little to stop this inside and outside of their borders. The Enclave offers you all an alternative, food, water, and stability to all those who want it. There is of course the matter of the traitors that call themselves Dashites. Traitors and terrorists who want to disrupt the established order of the Enclave,” she’d said. It was the kind of voice that made you want to believe her, but every bone in your body said otherwise. Winter Breeze was scum from the moment Henri had heard her, and she wasn’t done yet. That was before she’d revealed her kicker. “Just as bad are those who harbor them. The NCR harbors such individuals and allows them free reign over their territory. But that is the least of their treachery, they have given one of the worst of these traitors, a war criminal who's actions caused many deaths. I am speaking of course about the former Vice President of Stable-Tec, and the pony behind the Stable experiments, Scootaloo. She has been living among you for the past year under the alias of the Wanderer, the NCR and DJ Pon3 have been aware of this fact since then, perpetrating the lie to the inhabitants of Equestria. The Enclave doesn't believe in such deceptions, so we are bringing the truth to you. This is President Winter Breeze, signing off.”

Henri hated to admit it, but she’d been terrified. Just the sheer idea of the Enclave returning was enough to send chills down anybody's spines. The only time Henri had been that scared was when that spirit of Nightmare Moon… Or whatever it was had taken over Puppysmiles’s body and went on a rampage at Emerald Shores.

Days passed, and eventually Henri found herself in Regina’s office. Two former Talon Company members guarded the door, shotguns in their paws.

“Ma’am,” Henri saluted as she entered the room, wondering what the Hell the current president of the NCR would want with her.

“Henrietta Firebright,” Regina said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. Henri stiffened, she knew that things were serious right from the get-go if she was using that tone. “Your help is… required.”

“For what?” Henri asked quizzically, cocking an eyebrow.

“We’ve lost contact with our settlement on Mount Pleasant Island, and communications haven’t come in from the island for the last several days,” Regina informed. “Something’s wrong, and I don’t like it,”

“Enclave interference?” Henri asked.

“I suspect so, although there could be other forces at work we don’t know about really,” Regina remarked. Henri scoffed.

“Since when it isn’t the Enclave these days?” Henri laughed darkly. “They want Equestria for themselves, and whatever their end goal may be, taking out NCR settlements would be a good way to start. Establish their own government, with that bitch Winter Breeze front and center,”

“Yes, that’s the most likely cause. I want you to lead a team, small enough that the Enclave won’t take notice,” Regina explained. “There’s a bridge leading to Mount Pleasant Island, you can take a train there and nobody would suspect a thing,”

“Quick and silent, I like it,” Henri said, smirking to herself. “Who do you want on the team?” She asked.

“I’ve already sent for Riva, she and some NCR troops will meet up with you once you find the final member of the team. This mission requires a very specific skill-set, and to be honest… As much as I hate to admit it, there’s only one griffon that fits the bill right now.”

Henri’s eyes widened in shock when she saw Regina place the “Wanted” poster on the desk in front of her. Her beak jaw dropped in shock, Regina had to be kidding.

“No… Please tell me you’ve finally bucked up and gained a sense of humor after all these years,” Henri growled out. “Seriously, him? Riptalon, one of the most infamous and backstabbing members of Talon Company?”

Henri knew there wasn’t a single faction in the Wasteland Riptalon wouldn’t work for as long as you had the caps to pay for his services, a true mercenary. Trouble was, he had the bad habit of backstabbing you as soon as you ran out of caps and killing those who couldn’t pay up. The last time he’d worked with the NCR, he’d killed an entire squadron for crying out loud!

“...No, I haven’t lost my sense nor am I playing a joke on you, Henri,” Regina answered. “As much as I hate to admit it, we need Riptalon’s help on this. He can get in and out of places quickly enough, and create enough of a distraction for you and your team to figure out what’s going on over there.”

“You really don’t give a damn about what happens to him, do you?” Henri asked. Regina chuckled.

“Not in the slightest. You betray the Talon Company, you pay for it harshly. If anything else, loyalty is something I value above all else. Those who betray others… They’re worse than scum. They’re just trash,” Regina replied coldly before her voice became softer, kinder. “But… You do business as long as I have, and you learn to pick a brand name from the writing on the wall. I’d like to believe Riptalon’s that brand, so to speak. He’s a special sort, could have turned out differently if he wasn’t so obsessed with getting his next big score,”

Henri sighed as she walked out of the office, but not before Regina had one last thing to say.

“Oh, and Henri?” Regina stated. “Your father would be proud.”

“Would he?” Henri asked quietly, her father’s pistol feeling heavier than ever.

The Present Day:

“Wow, and just when I thought I couldn’t be any more loved,” Riptalon said dryly. Nearby, Henri was wrapping a series of bandages around Iron’s chest. “Get drafted into what’s essentially a suicide mission. Regina’s really living up to her mother’s legacy isn’t she?” the griffon asked sarcastically.

As she tended to Iron’s wounds, she gave him a look.

“Trust me, I don’t like this any more than you do,” Henri remarked.

“I sense there’s a but coming somewhere along the line…” Riptalon put in. “Always is,”

“...Yes, there is a but. If it was anybody but you, I’d be furious at what Regina’s doing. But you… Well, you’re about as big a traitor as I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,”

“Feeling the love here…” Riptalon drawled. Henri ignored him and turned back to Iron. The pegasus’s thoughts ran wild. He knew Riptalon wasn’t somebody he could trust, just by his general demeanor, and that look in his eyes. It was the kind of look you got in somebody who was about to turn around and slice your throat. But this… Knowing an entire government wanted him dead was something else entirely. He’d have to keep an even more careful eye on Riptalon from this day on, that was for sure.

“That should hold for the time being, least until we can get to the nearest town where we can get you proper treatment,” Henri stated, Iron wincing in pain. She noted his pistol. “That’s a good gun, given it a name yet?”

“Haven’t really had the time to think about it yet, honestly. Between the running and gunning and all,” He deadpanned. He then laid his head down on the sand. “Now, if you excuse me, this pony needs some sleep. Good night.”

Author's Note

Okay, so, huge credit to RuinQueenofOblivion for letting me use her characters from The Lost Children in cameos and letting me use the entirety of Winter Breeze's first broadcast from Survivor's Guilt. Now, aside from all of the pop-culture shout-outs in this chapter, there's one that really needs to be noted. I purposely put in Tom Petty's Wildflowers in this chapter in honor of him. The guy's a great musician, and it's rather sad that he has to leave us so soon. Rest in peace man, you will be missed.

Part 6: "There's Fighting There, and the Company Needs Men..."

Mount Pleasant Island. So that was their destination when they met up with Henri and whoever she’d met up with. Honestly, Midnight thought Regina’s plan to draft Riptalon back into the NCR was a stupid one. The earth pony stallion really was beginning to question the griffon’s leadership decisions as of late if anyone was to ask his opinions on the matter. Tartarus, he’d personally seen Riptalon kill members of the NCR.

Some years ago…

It had only been a couple of years since the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows, back when Gawd was still president of the NCR. Midnight was just at a bar in Junction Town, drinking whiskey from a bottle. Personally, he’d have preferred a bit of music to add to the atmosphere, but as his drinking buddy (A white coated mare with a black and red mane) said, it was a real mood killer. Plus, the jukebox had long broken down anyways so it sorta defeated the point.

“...There have been more and more sightings of Raiders over by the no-longer Evergreen Miles. If you’re asking me, the smart money's on them having some kind of campsite that way, just sayin’. Keep that in mind the next time you or any other wanderers you’re with feel like nosing around that neighborhood okay?” DJ Pon3’s voice said from a nearby patron’s Pipbuck. Midnight paid it no mind, it wasn’t like Raiders were any sort of interesting news nowadays. Frankly, they were probably on their last legs given that the NCR had a good sizeable control of what used to be nothing but lawless territories.

Midnight likened it to the Old West actually. Before the NCR came and took over, just like with Celestia’s government did to what used to be the Appleloosan plains, the place abounded with lawlessness and ponies basically having to fend for themselves. That wasn’t the case any more. The new outlaws, the Raiders were on the out and the NCR was finally getting the Wasteland under control.

He was just about to ask the bartender, a nice young unicorn mare with a dark blue mane, and lighter blue fur, (Midnight had often considered asking her out on a date from time to time, but his lack of courage always got the best of him.) for another round when she heard it. The sounds of commotion, and gunfire from outside the tavern.

Grabbing his weapon, Midnight rushed outside to see what was going on. And she found herself in the middle of a particularly intense firefight. And in the middle of it was Riptalon himself, dodging and weaving through the shots laid down by the NCR troopers and slicing them in the throats and letting their lifeless husks drop dead in the street.

Interestingly, Midnight had noted, he never once picked up a gun from one of the carcasses despite having every chance to do so. It’d long been a subject of speculation why nobody had ever seen Riptalon just pick up a gun and use it to shoot somebody dead. Maybe he hated them on some sort of matter of principle, or maybe it was just because he preferred things up close and personal. Nobody had ever quite managed to figure it out.

Right now, as Midnight watched in shock at the blood frenzy in the streets, -forgetting for the moment at least, that he had a gun herself- he would lay odds that Riptalon never needed to pick up a gun as he never found himself needing one for any sort of situation.

Finally regaining his senses as he saw Riptalon slash the throat of another pony, Midnight reached for his carbine and fired a full casing of rounds at the griffon. But the target that Midnight hit… wasn’t Riptalon. Or even a griffon for that matter. It seemed Riptalon had grabbed one of the NCR troopers -His own comrade!- and thrown him in front of the shots to use as a meat shield.

Then he heard the thundering of metallic hoofsteps and sighed in relief as Riptalon’s eyes widened in fear. Midnight allowed herself a smirk as the red and silver Power Armor clad forms of Applejack’s Rangers rounded a bend, their battle saddles spinning up before finally letting out a spray of bullets, golden shell casings flying every which way. Riptalon snarled before he threw down a smoke bomb and Midnight coughed as her vision clouded.

“Activate your infrared vision and motion trackers now.” the lead member of the Rangers ordered before they searched the cloud for any sign of Riptalon. The gunfire had stopped, as in the smoke it would be impossible to make out friend from foe, or Riptalon from any of the civilians who had taken shelter in the nearby buildings or behind supply crates or barrels. But the odd thing was, he’d completely vanished from their sight. Then, Midnight saw him. He’d climbed above the cloud of smoke in the confusion and onto the rooftops. Riptalon used one of his charcoal black wings to make a very rude gesture before he took to the skies, and that was the last anybody ever saw of him in Junction Town.

At one point, Midnight could have sworn he heard him mutter “Gawd was gonna cut you down anyways, just sped up the process…” but he’d brushed it off as his imagination getting the better of him.

Groaning at the memory, Midnight shook his head. Best not to dwell on personal grudges, not when he’d be working with the object of that grudge himself. Fluffing up against a makeshift pillow that was in actuality a bag full of oats as she listened to the train’s wheels rattle against the rails below him and his shotgun by his side, he sighed as he put in his earbuds and tuned into DJ-Pon3’s latest broadcast.

“Hey everypony out there, it’s DJ Pon3 coming at you with the latest news. The Enclave has been reported around Equestria with their promises of helping the Wasteland. But don't be fooled my little ponies, the Enclave has no interest in the greater good other than their own. I've got assurances from the New Canterlot Republic that they will be doing their best to help Equestria. The Enclave doesn't change ponies, they'll kill you or enslave you. It’s your choice.”

Personally, Midnight couldn’t believe the Enclave had the nerve to return, and yet here they were broadcasting whenever they felt like it. To the dark coated pony/NCR trooper, for a moment, just a moment, he did believe the Enclave did know what was best for the Wasteland. After all, that voice of Winter Breeze did sound very convincing and reassuring.

But Midnight then forcibly reminded himself that it was the President of the Enclave speaking. These were the same ponies who, with no remorse bombed Canterlot just to, in their own words “Save the Wasteland” and then, if the Book of Littlepip was accurate -And Midnight had no reason to believe otherwise- they’d destroyed Friendship City. And for what reason? It was only to eliminate just one elderly Dashite.

The Enclave had no morals, and that was the end of it.

Midnight turned to her companion, a green-furred Earth Pony like himself who was currently in the middle of fiddling with her sniper rifle.

“Hey, you sure this train’s trustworthy? I mean, we pretty much asked for a ride and didn’t even bother asking what it was carrying, to begin with,” Midnight commented. “No offense, but I’d really like a bit of transparency here,”

“The conductor seemed trustworthy enough, and we needed to get to our meet-up point with Henri near Old Stalliongrad quickly as we can, and trains are the fastest way to get around Equestria these days. Tartarus,” the mare said, adjusting her brown Stetson atop her head out of force of habit. “Pretty sure they always have been now that I think of it,”

Midnight had studied the mare’s file. Target Quartermane, one of the best snipers the NCR had to offer. If the files were to be believed, Target was second only to Calamity Deadshot and the like in terms of scoring a shot through the head and getting away unseen. Her specialty was long-range shots, in the dead of night. In those types of situations, the only thing that could give away a sniper was the muzzle flash of the gun going off or the bullet whizzing and cutting through the air, and by then it was probably already too late for you.

“Yeah, I get that,” Midnight replied. “But I just don’t want to be stabbed in the back by somebody who’s playing both sides…”

A few chuckles came from the left of him, some stallions who obviously thought with their other heads, not the ones attached to their necks. Sure, they were some of the NCR’s best… Or at least what they could spare right now because of the ongoing war with the Enclave. Like the old song went, there was fighting and the company needed men, but Midnight did have to wonder, -and not for the first time today- why he’d have to get stuck with these morons?

“I didn’t mean it like that, you numbskulls!” Midnight shouted.

“Sure…” One of them laughed. “That conductor… Pretty hot for a mare, I must say. Wonder how many eyes she’s caught in her line of work? Working on a train doesn’t pay well, so you gotta wonder if she gets money on the side somehow…”

“I’m more worried about what’s in the back of the train, been hearing strange noises ever since we left the station,” one of the soldiers muttered in worry.

“Aw, probably just livestock or something. You worry too much. Now, back to the question of the conductor…”

Target gave them a dirty glare.

“You know, considering there’s a mare in this compartment here with you… And one who knows how to shoot someone at that, I’d suggest you chose your next words very carefully. Just a thought,” Target warned, with an edge of menace in her tone.

“Relax Target, we didn’t mean anything by it!” the same stallion answered, holding up his hooves in a defensive posture. “Besides, you gotta admit, Lesbians are awfully common in the Wastes, you know…”

“I’ll give you that, I admit,” Midnight agreed, and Target glared at him this time. Midnight quickly backtracked. “Well, it’s not like in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, you’re exactly afforded the luxury of being picky with love interests!”

“You’ve been playing too many role-playing games back at Junction Town…” Target muttered.

“It’s LARPing, for your information!” Midnight snapped. Target ignored him, of course.

“Besides, stay out of this! Weren’t you listening to DJ-Pon-3?” the cowgirl/sniper snapped.

“Eh, my mind wanders… So sue me,” Midnight remarked as the train trundled on across the wastes. Eventually, after hours of travel as sundown neared, Target sighed to herself as she looked at Midnight's worried expression and those of the troopers under her command.

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll go up to the front of the train and ask the conductor and engineer themselves about where we’re going, just see how trustworthy they are,”

“You mean the conductor and her lover!” one of the stallions cat-called and soundly earned himself a smack to the back of the head by Target.

“Next time, I’ll leave you with more than just a bruise, got it?” She growled out, grabbing the stallion by his neck and looking him dead in the eyes having had enough of her troops’ pervertedness. With that, she stormed out towards the direction of the front of the train. A steam whistle blew, and Midnight allowed himself to peek his head out of a window to see the column of smoke from the funnel rising high into the afternoon sky as the train trundled around a bend.

Target made her way to the front of the train, where she found the conductor feeding coal into the fire.

“Wasn’t expecting one of the baggage to make their way to the front,” the conductor, going by the rather ironic name of Sweet Pea laughed. She spoke with a deep southern-fried accent, the kind you’d find in a place like Neigh Orleans or somewhere like that. Target’s eye twitched, baggage? Was that what she thought of them as? “But all the same props to ya anyways. Takes a real mare to be up front with all the fire and the steam,”

“Yeah, got some concerns from the “Baggage” as you put it that you’re playing both sides, working for the Enclave or some other faction and are just delivering us to our death when the line ends,” Target remarked. Nearby, a radio crackled. Just barely audible over all the noise was the voice of a certain Element Bearer.

“Bucks and mares, fillies and gentlecolts, prepare to be astounded, bedazzled, and otherwise stupefied! I am Homage, your master of ceremonies! Okay, not really, but a mare can dream can’t she? I suppose I’ll just have to settle for being the Element of Honesty for right now… Anyways… Just a friendly reminder to all you wanna-be bigots out there, ghouls are Equestrians like you and me too, you know. You see, those poor ghouls are simply ponies, griffons, zebras or what have you that've been exposed to an ungodly amount of radiation and haven't had the good fortune to die, Celestia bless their souls. Sure, they may look like hideous zombies from an old monster flick, but their hearts, their souls, their tears, are all very much… Equestrian. So please, if you meet one of the Equestrian Wasteland's many Ghouls, leave your prejudice at the door and your pistol in its holster. However, I do have one important caveat though. Ah, yes... I didn’t say ALL ghouls were friendly like Ditzy Doo or the late Steelhooves however. Those feral ghouls that prefer the dark, dank underground? They ARE basically mindless zombies. So kill as many as you damn well please. It’d do all of us a favor if we had less of the Trotting Dead brain-eaters around. Just learn the difference between those who do and do not want to eat you. This is Homage, signing off with a public service announcement. And now, back to the music.”

Sweet Pea burst out laughing again.

“Eh, Ah wouldn’t take much offense at the baggage comment if Ah was ya, it’s something we here on this train call all of our passengers, just for fun. Don’t mean anything by it,” Sweet Pea remarked. The engineer stayed strangely silent even as he tended to everything. Target idly wondered if he was a mute. “And delivering ya’ll to the arms of the Enclave? Puh-Leeze, Ah’d rather sell my own soul to Tirek then even talk with those bastards. Ah mean, screw them! They may talk big about making the Wasteland “Better”, but so far Ah haven’t seen them doing jack-squat!”

“I’ll agree with you there, but you mind telling the passengers that? I’m beginning to think they’d need nothing short of a signed and written confession from you to believe that. ...Well, that and confirm you’re not selling yourself out to every mare and young buck you come across. Don’t know where they got that idea, but…”

“Honey, let their perverted minds wander. Celestia knows they need somethin’ to keep their minds off the war that’s been goin’ on ever since that little pegasus Winter Breeze made her broadcast,” Sweet Pea replied before she smirked. “Besides, who’s to be sayin’ they ain’t wrong or anythin’?

Target balked, unsure if Sweet Pea was joking or not. The engineer still didn’t speak. Yeah, he was definitely mute, Target had decided in her mind. Sweet Pea continued on. “Mmm, now that Scootaloo mare, despite lookin’ like somepony out of the Silver Spade Chronicles is fine. Oh, so fine…” Sweet Pea said, licking her lips.

“...” Silence was Target’s only answer. And yet Sweet Pea still continued to ramble.

“Now, lemme tell ya something. She may be well over 200 years old, but she sure as Tartarus don’t look it!”

“You’ve met her?” Target asked, finally regaining the power of speech.

“Sure as Tartarus have, Sugar. That wanderer came and saved me in Manehatten when I was gettin’ ponies the Tartarus out of there with all that fightin’ going on. Ah was surrounded by the nastiest sort of ponies you could think of. Ready to rip me limb from limb before little ole Scootaloo charged in, guns a-blazin’ like a mad-mare out of the pits themselves. Owe her mah life, and for that Ah’m grateful. Now whatever crap the Enclave may put out about her, Ah don’t believe a word of it, no ma’am. Ah’ve seen the true side of her, and it ain’t no demon-pony nor a traitor. Unfortunately for ya’ll, this is where your journey ends,”

With that, Sweet Pea pulled a gun, -an old western Colt Peacemaker to be exact- on Target, just as the train cars detached from the tender and main engine. “Sorry to say, but that Winter Breeze… Very charismatic mare. If she wants more soldiers for her war machine and is willing pay good caps for it, Ah’ll bend my moral code for that. Yes, Ah know this makes me a hypocrite… But sad to say, times are tough ya know. Gotta get money somehow,”

“And I was just starting to like you…” Target growled.

“Same, but a mare’s gotta do what a mare’s gotta do, ya understand…” Sweet Pea trailed off. It was then before Sweet Pea could fire off another word (Or a round) or say anything that the engineer finally said something.

“Sorry Sweet Pea, but this is the end of the line of all of us, actually,” The engineer spoke, in a deep gravely voice as he turned away from the fire and pulled out a wrench and with one mighty swing, struck her soundly across the head felling her in one swift blow. Deep crimson red blood oozed out of her wound and formed a small pool on the metal floor. And the facade faded away as the engineer grew taller, his horn grew longer and sharper and wings sprouted out of his back. “Nightmare Moon, she needs a vessel and I think one of those ponies back there in the passenger cars will do just fine,”

Target quietly swore, one of those damned Nightmare Moon cultists she’d been hearing so much about. And he had to be an Alicorn, didn’t he? The Engineer pulled out a small device and pressed a button. An explosion echoed from somewhere behind Target. That explosion happened to be the door of a passenger car blowing wide open and revealing its contents to the world.

Those “Contents” just so happened to be ghouls, foaming and frothing at the mouth. Midnight grabbed his shotgun and blew one’s head clean off just as another leaped onto one of his comrades and began eating away at his flesh. Horrific screams reached Target’s ears as the ghouls quickly set to work.

“Bastard…” Target muttered as she dodged a dark purple magic blast from the Engineer and readied a grenade. She clambered out of the side window and began climbing up to the top of the engine, with her “Friend” right behind her with the grenade still gripped tightly in Target’s hoof. The wind got the better of her and blew her hat to Celestia-knows-where as the Engineer joined her atop the engine.

“Luna damnit! That was my favorite hat…” Target growled out as she turned to face her foe.

“Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide…” he laughed while licking his lips and sizing her up. “Now, just accept your fate. A mare like you, Nightmare Moon would just love to have you as a vessel I’ll bet!”

“Yeah, I’m flattered…” Target deadpanned before she let her hooves do the talking and rn towards the tender car…

“Well, isn’t this just groovy…” Midnight muttered to himself as she continued firing round after round from her Whinnychester built shotgun. “Assessment of things… Well, as the old saying goes, it’s a SNAFU.” he thought to herself as she fired off another blast.

Quickly, the ammo ran out and rather than stopping to reload, Midnight decided “Aw, to Tartarus with it” and decided to just buck a ghoul out the window. It tried to clamber it’s way back into the car but by this time Midnight had reloaded and blew it right to Kingdom Come, brain matter splattering everywhere.

“Note to self, never listen to those old Trotting Dead recordings again,” the Earth Pony thought to himself. “They’re all completely wrong anyways…”

He heard a scream come from behind him, and growled as she pumped another round of lead into one of the ghouls…

“Come on Target, where are you?” Midnight thought to himself as she went for a reload. Now the thing about Midnight’s shotgun, it was special. She’d performed a few modifications on it that allowed it to carry more bucks than the norm. Two extra chambers in each barrel, meaning six shots before it came time to reload again. Personally, it might have been a tad bit overkill to Midnight, but he certainly wasn’t complaining now.

“Well, its late night with your good friend DJ Pon3, so let’s get one last bit of news in before all my little ponies out there get to bed. As you know here at NCR Radio we've got a policy of telling the truth no matter how hard it hurts, and it’s time that the truth fully comes to light. Last year, I became fully aware of the continued survival of one Scootaloo Dash, but I believed that this truth was better left untold until the time was right. So my little ponies, tomorrow I will be broadcasting the full interview between my assistant the lovely Xiraia and Ms. Dash, let's hope you're all listening, because she has a lot to say. Now here's some Sweetie Belle to bring you all to sleep.”

Chuckling at the irony of Sweetie Belle’s soft singing as he continued blasting ghoul after ghoul and continuing the cycle of reload, then shoot, Midnight stood his ground, for however long that ground could be held. If he was going to die, then it wouldn’t be without a fight. Tossing her now-emptied shotgun aside for the moment, Midnight grabbed a wrench and swung it hard, smashing a ghoul’s skull in. Groaning in disgust at the gore, Midnight snarled as he hit a ghoul in the side of his head, sending him flying out the carriage window…

Back with Target, she’d now reached the tender car, the coals beneath her feet. She took a quick look behind her, and saw the carriages in the distance and heard the distinctive sound of shotgun blasts coming in through her earpiece. Looks like Midnight had his hooves full, but Target quickly reminded herself she was in a similar situation as she saw the Engineer approaching, wings spread wide and fangs bared.

“Now now,” the monstrous midnight blue Alicorn commented in a faux-charming tone of voice. “There’s no need to run like a scared little filly. I promise it’ll all be over in just a few seconds, for both you and your friend…”

However, Target was still holding onto the grenade. From the moment the Engineer had revealed himself as an Alicorn and a member of the Nightmare Cult, an inkling of a plan had begun to hatch in her mind. She just needed the proper spot to carry it out and not risk herself being killed in the process.

“Yeah, it’ll all be over in a few seconds…” Target murmured, and she let the Engineer smirk for a second as she seemingly accepted defeat, before Target gave a smirk of her own and ran towards the Alicorn. She whirled around in mid-air after taking a flying leap and bucked him in the stomach. His jaw opened wide, and Target shoved the grenade down it with a laugh of “Well, I think you’ll be meeting your goddess a lot sooner than you expected!” before she leaped off the tender car as the grenade went off.

With a nearly deafening explosion that could be seen for miles no thanks in part to the huge fireball created by the steam engine’s fuel igniting and sending the entire thing sky high, Target was flung back into a patch of shrubbery. She smirked as she saw charred feathers floating down near her.

“Good riddance…” the sniper mare muttered before she picked herself up off the ground, groaning in pain and injecting a stimpak into herself and started to gallop back towards the carriages.

Target let out a sigh of relief when she saw Midnight climbing out of the front carriage, his lion-like mane and dark fur stained and soaked in blood. His shotgun rested on his back, and a wrench had been strapped to one of his forelegs.

“Well…” Midnight chuckled as he saw Target. “Looks like there’ll be a slight delay with our rendezvous.”

Target smiled when she saw three figures climbing over a hilltop, a white feathered griffon in the lead.

“Maybe not…”

Author's Note

I have only one thing to say for the kill em' all parts of this chapter. Not So New Brony, I blame you for that. Now, in all seriousness, firstly I have to give thanks to RuinQueen for letting me use Xiraia's transmissions and thanks to Enigma C-137 and Midnight Radiance for the use of their characters. Funny story, with Midnight I kept messing up about every time I wrote his character, constantly getting the gender wrong and writing his ponysona as a she. Though in my defense, if you look at Midnight's avatar, you could see where I got mixed messages. (Sorry Midnight.) Also, his shotgun was inspired by this piece from Bioshock 2.

Also, as you can now see, I've made an image change to a screenshot from Fallout 4 for the cover art. Okay, I admit the desert town with zeppelins hanging over it worked for the first few chapters with Iron and Riptalon, but now that they're about to get involved with the war with the GPE proper, I decided it was time for a different piece to reflect the mood. Also, as this will be my last update before November 1st... Happy Halloween all of you, wherever you are.

Part 7: "Try not to blow this one up okay?"

The Equestrian Wasteland: Unknown Location in the Appleloosan Wastes:

Midnight had to hold back a snarl as he saw the very distinctive form of Riptalon march over the hillside alongside an unknown silvery grayish pegasus. Both of them were caked in blood. Midnight had to hold back a chuckle, served Riptalon right. Nearly getting himself killed from the looks of things. Shame the attackers weren’t successful.

“So, I see you’ve been busy…” Henri deadpanned, looking at the flaming hulk that was once a steam engine. “Encountered a bit of trouble?”

“Well, if you call running into one of Winter Breeze’s secret supporters siccing a whole load of feral ghouls on us trouble, then... Yeah,”

“Still doesn’t explain the train that somepony obviously blew to Kingdom Come,” the unknown pegasus commented with a wry chuckle as Henri gave him a Stimpak to inject into his foreleg. He winced in pain slightly as the drug was injected, but shrugged it off. Not like he’d felt worse as of late.

“I assume you’ve heard about those mysterious kidnappers stealin’ away ponies in the middle of the night over Homage’s personal radio station?” Ingen asked and Iron nodded in understanding as a look of dawning realization came over his face. “Well, ran into one of them- A damned Alicorn at that- and had to blow the whole tender car and engine sky high. Stuck a grenade down the guy’s throat and leaped off the train to watch the fireworks,”

“Some fireworks, we could see the entire damn thing from a mile off probably,” Henri dryly remarked. “Where’s the rest of your troop? Surely Regina wouldn’t be stupid enough just to send just the two of you to Mount Pleasant Island,”

“They got slaughtered by the ghouls, we’re all that’s left...” Midnight explained, trailing off as he shook his head. Henri felt something hit her right then, she couldn’t place what it was. Guilt maybe, for not getting to her troops fast enough, or maybe for not telling them the full relationship between her and Winter Breeze?

“Yeah, well unless you want to try Reino the jobs aren't exactly coming through this area. Fine, one more drink, then I'm cutting you off until you can get more caps.”

“I'll take care of that for her,” a new voice spoke up. “Get the hen her drink and a Sparkle-Cola for me.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender had sighed and went off for another round.

“So what do you want, somepony killed? You don't seem the type to just give things out for charitable reasons.”

"You're Henrietta Firebright right?" Winter asked as she looked at Henri with a scrutinizing eye.

“What's it to you blue?” Henri had snapped.

“My name is Winter Breeze, I'm here representing a group of ponies that are interested in your services,” Winter said as the bartender came back and put the drinks down in front of us. "What do you say to saving Equestria?”

“Don't bother, Gawd tried the same sales pitch on me after she saved me from the Talons awhile back, it didn't work for her, it ain't gonna work for you," Henri replied as she took one long drink. “I'm not one to run off and join some new faction that'll probably fold in a few months anyway.”

“I'm not here to get you to join the New Canterlot Republic," Winter said as she popped the cap on her bottle of Sparkle-Cola and took a long drink. "I'm here to make you a different kind of offer, there's a chance you could be able to help Equestria recover with more than just promises.”

“That's a laugh, I'm just a merc, you don't need me for that kind of job. Last time I tried that kind of thing, it got me a broken heart and a dead sister, no thank you.”

"Do you want to talk about it?" Winter asked. “I talked with Watcher, he told me about Puppysmiles and what you two went through together. And what happened to her at the end of the Big 52, you cared about that filly didn't you?”

“I did, and I'm the one who let her die..." Henri said back then as she gripped her mug in her talon. “That, thing had a grip on her, I should've figured out another way to stop it.”

“Henri, you did your best and you gave her what she needed to be able to pass on,” Winter said. “You did your best and you were there for her when she needed you to be. You were the big sister she needed, sure you may have made mistakes, but you did what you could to help her in the end. Maybe there was another way, but you can't keep beating yourself over what ifs. Puppysmiles wouldn't want you to do that, and she'd want you to help Equestria if given the chance. We're giving you that chance, all you have to do is have a little faith.”

“Alright, I'll come along on your crazy mission, what do you need me to do?”

“First, let’s finish these drinks,” Winter said with a smile as she raised her bottle. “To Puppysmiles."

“To Puppysmiles,” Henri smiled.

Anger filled Henri, she’d gone along with Winter’s bullshit about saving Equestria and look at where it had got her. If she had known the tactics that the Enclave was willing to resort to, like paying off other ponies to release feral ghouls on her men, then that made her about as bad as Winter herself. She supposed that was why she was still beating herself up about Puppysmiles ten years on from her death, as a way of defiance against Winter’s philosophy of a twisted sense of altruism.

“Something wrong Henri?” Riptalon asked, putting a talon on her shoulder. “Us fellow griffons, we gotta stick together you know,”

Both Midnight and Henri scoffed at that.

“Now there’s a laugh, talk about sticking together from the NCR’s most infamous backstabber,” Henri drawled. “Nothing’s wrong, just thinking about what we do now. And what we do now is go back to the carriage and see what we can scavenge up. Now march! Hup, get those hooves and paws in line, time’s not our friend here!”

She then turned to Target, gesturing with a paw to Iron. “And could somebody get that idiot something besides an old Colt? I don’t want any more deaths slowing us up!”

Riptalon sniggered to himself, and everybody looked at him.

“What’s so funny?” Midnight asked, resting his semi-auto shotgun on his shoulder.

“Oh, you won’t need to worry about finding weapons for him, he’ll find them himself, regardless of who they might have belonged to…” Riptalon drawled as the group trodded up to the carriages. “Just ask the remnants of what used to be Old Appleloosa,”

Already, Riptalon was recoiling of the scent of the ghouls, or what was left of them anyways. To be fairly honest, Midnight’s shotgun had chewed them up quite well and left them in pieces. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and when you added in the fact that they smelled like they’d been in the hot sun for several days it was enough to make most ponies -Or any other creature for that matter- toss whatever they’d had for dinner in pure disgust.

Henri crossed herself with a Talon and muttered “Damn you, Winter Breeze, damn you…” as she looked at the sight of what had once been her men. They’d been ripped apart, chewed up and blood and gore splattered the train car. As if some cruel joke was being played on her, there from a Pipbuck played this song…

“Tell the rambler,
The gambler,
The back biter
Tell 'em that Celestia's gonna cut 'em down
Tell 'em that Celestia's gonna cut 'em down
You can run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Sooner or later She'll cut you down
Sooner or later She'll cut you down…”

“Been hearing that raspy voice a lot lately… Echo’s songs are sure as Hell popular out here in the plains…” Riptalon muttered largely to himself. Even as the song continued, Iron walked over to the dead stallion bearing the Pipbuck and wrenched it off of his arm before attaching it to his own.

Nearby, as Iron searched the cars along with Riptalon and Target, Henri muttered “Bet that back-biter in the song right now would be Winter Breeze…” to herself quietly. She noted Riptalon kept an eye on his friend, with Target keeping an eye on Riptalon.

Then Iron eyed a weapon. It was mainly a standard NCR soldier issued weapon, but that wasn’t going to stop the former Enclave soldier. One, he knew a good weapon when he saw it and two, it wasn’t like its former user was around to argue with him. It was a bullpup style rifle, gas-operated and magazine fed. As if to add to the deadly accuracy, it had been equipped with a small scope perfect for peering through. And perfect for shooting somebody in the head.

However, the styling design of the weapon was far from standard issue. Half of it was dark oaken wood, with gold detailing giving it an almost steampunk style aesthetic.

“You know ponies are going to give you crap about doing that,” Riptalon remarked as Iron hoisted the rifle over his shoulder. “You don’t see many weapons like that, it’s standard issue sure… But the customization will scream that you got it from someplace or somebody special,”

“So? It’s not like he’s going to quibble back and forth with me for nicking his gun,” Iron drawled in a remarkably cold tone of voice, looking towards the dead stallion he’d looted it from.

“Yeah, but still…” Riptalon trailed off. “If it was from a long dead skeleton, and the weapon itself horrendously out of date like Midnight’s, (He ignored the “Hey!” from the stallion in question) things might be different but an NCR trooper’s gun, one recently dead at that, -and ponies will be able to tell thanks to the dried blood- is another story entirely.” the griffon tried to argue but as ever Iron was quick to refute.

“So you’ve gained a sense of morality, what a shock,” Iron deadpanned. “Fine time to gain it. So what if somebody wants to raise a fuss and bitch about me stealing a dead stallion’s weapon. They’ll have to bitch with you as well,”

He then tossed a shotgun to the griffon, one almost pure black with red detailing complementing Riptalon’s feathers perfectly. It was the kind of shotgun that fired 8-gauge magnum shells and had been designed to reduce recoil as much as possible. Like Iron’s “Borrowed” rifle, it was standard issue for the most part but modified. Inscribed on the weapon itself was the words “Dura lex. Sed lex.”meaning “Hard Law, but the Law.” in Latin.

Riptalon sighed to himself as he inspected the weapon. Why’d he even bother arguing with Iron or whatever his real name was at some points? That stallion was as stubborn as Hell. It was a good weapon at least, -that much he could tell from design alone- not that he’d ever let Iron have the smug satisfaction of knowing that. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Well, guess I am now really carrying a big iron on my hip so to speak,” Riptalon muttered to himself, remembering the song that had played during the coyote pack showdown back in that warehouse in Old Appleloosa. He then turned to Henri.

“So, what do we do now, dear leader?” he asked with a sarcastic tone in his voice as he bowed to her, in an equally mocking manner.

“You, for one, just shut up. Don’t need to hear your yap. You’re coming along only for the extra firepower and that’s that,” Henri sneered before she murmured softly. “That extra firepower, which is obvious we need now more than ever,”

She then steeled herself. She couldn’t let her emotions show. She was the commander, and that was that. She didn’t have time for little things like emotions or feelings. They always failed you in the end anyhow… “Now, our next course of action is get moving. Obviously, before anyone with a low brain cell count decides to speak up, we’re not walking across the desert. Especially at night, with coyotes, radscorpions, Yao Gaui and who knows what else about prowling the desert. So if anybody has any suggestions, speak up now,”

“Could find another train to hook up to these carriages and continue on to Mount Pleasant Island as we were,” Target suggested, her sniper rifle now reclaimed. It was equipped with a night vision scope, as per Target’s specifications with all of her rifles and the rounds were specially made for max piercing potential. Again, Target’s idea. “Like you said boss, with all of the creatures roaming the desert walking to our destination, at least the whole way, is obviously out of the question. I say we double back, and find a trainyard and see if there’s any steam engines still working there. Hell, we’ll feed them coal ourselves if we have to,”

“I did see a depot not too far back, we could easily make it there without attracting much attention,” Iron commented. “...If we’re not all complete clots and are careful about things,”

“Yeah, that’ll be hard for some of us…” Riptalon sniped at him.

“Pot calling kettle black, or have you forgotten attracting the attention of a whole band of raiders you bloody rooster?” Iron retorted.

Target leaned over and muttered to Henri “Fifty caps I say they end up dating at some point…” in a low tone.

Henri snorted. “I’m not taking that, that’s a sucker’s bet and you know it!”

“Worth a shot.”

“Any other suggestions?” Henri then asked the group. No one had anything better to offer. “Okay then, stupid as this plan is, we’ll take our new friend here’s suggestion and find this train depot,”

Henri then laughed in embarrassment, realizing she’d never asked Riptalon about his new friend’s/possible lover’s name. “Er… Who are you again?” she asked, turning to You-Know-Who.

“Name’s Iron Skies. ...Well, that’s the name I picked out for myself for the time being. Not like a guy centuries dead is going to argue with me borrowing his moniker.” Iron replied. Midnight stared at him, quirking his head sideways in confusion.

Riptalon leaned over and muttered “He’s an amnesiac, or so he claims…Take that as you will.”

“Lovely…” Midnight muttered to himself. “It sorta figures you’d wind up with somepony who’s not right in the head…”

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” Riptalon snapped and was only greeted with loud, raucous laughter at his outburst. “Some load of friends you are…” he muttered to himself.

“...Who said we were ever friends?” Henri asked wryly. Riptalon sighed and facepawed as the laughter increased, with Iron joining in this time. He supposed he set himself up for that one…

Eventually, as the night wore on getting close to midnight by Henri’s calculations, the troop found an old abandoned train depot, just as Iron had promised. It was near a mine, with old coal cars sitting on a side track laying long abandoned and gathering dust. A windmill, with some blades missing from its structure spun softly in the late night air. Various other buildings dotted the trainyard, and any one of them could hide a nasty surprise.

“Fan out, make sure we’re not about to get ambushed here, that’s the last thing we need,” Henri barked out, before gesturing to Target. “You, get up high with that rifle of yours and set up a vantage point. Going to need a good eye in the darkness to see things we can’t.”

“Right,” Target said before running off towards a building, where she found some old metal stairs leading up to the roof. Near those stairs was a very familiar Stetson hat. “Huh... “ Target muttered as she put it back on her head. “There’s a lucky surprise for you…”

However, what she didn’t see was a black-hatted figure wearing a long black tattered duster vanish into the shadows. If she had, she might not have chalked it up to luck after all. At least, not the good kind…

Elsewhere, Riptalon had wandered into another building along with Iron, flashlights strapped to their guns with duct tape. They searched the building but found no threats. Well, nothing that would be considered a threat aside from the odd Radroach which quickly skittered away into the darkness as soon as it saw them.

“Huh, look at this…” Iron muttered as he stumbled upon, quite literally in fact, on another Audio Log. With a shrug of what could only be approximated of “Oh, what the Hell?” he set the needle to the vinyl record and let it play.

“Braeburn’s Log: Day… Oh, Ah don’t know when. Lost track a long time ago. Celestia and Luna above… Shipping coal out to fuel the war effort for the ironclad trains that house the big guns. It’s an important job, Ah know, but ya sometimes wonder if something remotely interestin’ would happen round these parts,” a male voice with a southern accent pondered. “It’s flat-out dull, simple as that. Nothing for company right now ‘cept the rats, and they’re not much of a talkin’ type. Honestly, at this point, Ah don’t know which way the war’s gonna go with each side gettin’ bigger and better weapons ever since the massacre at Littlehorn, and if Ah live long enough to find out… Ah’m not sure Ah want ta see the results…”

With that, the log ended.

“He doesn’t know how right he was…” Riptalon muttered. “I don’t know what Equestria was like before the war, but anything’s probably better than this nightmare. Sure, they say everything’s getting better but when you have the Enclave back after ten years of peace without them, you start to question if sometimes you should just go to sleep and not wake up at all…”

“Was it really that bad?” Iron asked. Riptalon chuckled at the stallion’s naivete.

“Kid, read a history book sometime… Hell, read Littlepip’s accounts of her adventure. Might learn a thing or two… First things first though, we gotta live through this suicide mission Regina’s put us on… Mount Pleasant Island,” Riptalon muttered with a dark chuckle. “Now there’s an ironic name for you…”

“Let me guess, death awaits as soon as we step foot on that island?” Iron deadpanned.

“Yep, it’s a lost cove on the side of Northern Equestria. Used to be a small fishing village before the war if I remember correctly,” Riptalon began to explain. “Almost constantly surrounded by fog and filled to the brim with the most horrifying creatures imaginable. Mirelurks, basically your bastardized mutated variation of some sort of crab. Then there’s the Anglers, Fog Crawlers, wolves and who knows the Hell what else,” Riptalon remarked with a noticeable shudder, as he listed the creatures off one by one with his talons. “Only one way onto that place, a small bridge that we’ll be taking. ‘’Course, that means there’s only one way out as well,”

“Lovely…” Iron remarked flatly as he sat down on an old workbench, propping his gun up against a crate nearby. “Anybody ever been there before besides us, any information we know about this place from them?

“Aside from what I just told you, not much…” Riptalon said before a thought came to him. “Well, okay, there was this one Enclave Soldier, Lieutenant Bright Feather I think her name was that got sent out, presumably by her bosses up top to investigate what the Hell was going on over there. This was before Winter Breeze you must understand, back during when war between the original version of the Enclave and the scattered pre-NCR forces was waging full force. To be honest, nobody ever really knows what happened to her…”

“And so that’s where we’re going? To a place where an Enclave Lieutenant was sent and she might not have made it out?” Iron gaped. “...I must be completely bloody mental for even considering agreeing to stick with you,”

“Yep, like I’ve been constantly yammering on about to Henri, absolute suicide mission,”

“Guess you’ll need me along to pull your fat arse out of the frier when you do something stupid… And you will, given what I’ve seen,” Iron commented. Riptalon was about to just shoot him dead right then and there with his new “gifted” shotgun when Iron pried open a wooden supply crate marked “Ubisoft” and produced a collection of whiskey bottles. He then tossed one to Riptalon with a gleeful smile as he began drinking down another.

“...You do realize that these things have probably been gathering dust ever since before the bombs fell right?” Riptalon asked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s 200 years worth of dust!”

“So, that just means they’ve aged well. Plus, like you said… Suicide mission. One last drink before we probably die under our own forcibly signed death warrants right?” Iron asked and Riptalon shrugged.

He then grumbled out “Fair point,” before popping the cap off of the bottle and drinking it down as well.

“Huh, not bad,” the griffon muttered to himself. “Good shit, put your feathers on your chest that’s for sure…”

“Hey, you two done making out in there?” Henri’s voice called and both Iron and Riptalon tried to sputter out a response about how they weren’t making out, but eventually gave up. “Midnight finally found us a working train! Took her long enough, but she did.”

Iron grabbed a few more bottles of whiskey and put them in one of his saddlebags. When Riptalon gave him a look, he could only respond “Something for the road… Or rails as the case may be.”

Riptalon found himself facepawing again as they walked back out into the yard where sure enough Midnight was slowly lurching an old steam engine forwards onto the turntable. It was a massive thing, charcoal black mostly, but with a silver boiler with a cowcatcher on the front in a 2-8-2 wheel configuration, meaning eight powered and coupled wheels on four axles. On the front of the boiler, just below the headlight was a painted number 45.

The wheels ground to a halt with a hiss of steam and Riptalon groaned as the turntable slowly reverse the engine and tender car into a reverse direction so that it could later be coupled up to the carriage cars they’d left behind.

“You gotta be kidding me…” Riptalon sighed. “This old relic? This thing’s going to break down on us on the first possible moment, plus considering we’ll probably be meeting up with the Enclave as soon as we even get near Mount Pleasant, we sure as Hell won’t be outrunning them in their Vertibucks particularly fast. We’re just one big target!” he yelled.

“Any port in a storm…” Henri trailed off before gesturing to Iron. “Besides, this was your friend’s idea. Blame him if you’re going to blame anybody.”

“Oh, believe me… I am!” Riptalon snapped.

Henri sighed to herself and shook her head as she saw what was poking out of Iron’s saddlebags.

“Please tell me that’s not whiskey…”

“It is…” Riptalon said flatly, as one of the said whiskey bottles was being drunk by Iron himself at this very moment. Henri facepawed.

“Great… Just what we need, another Blackjack wannabe… First possible chance, I’m taking those away from him.” She muttered to herself.

Eventually, everybody was rounded up and with the steam engine turned the right way round, the train began the long journey back to the carriage cars. It wasn’t long before the so-called “Iron Horse” reached the cars, and was hitched up.

“Just one last thing…” Henri said as the train’s wheels began to turn once more and Target blew the steam whistle as smoke started to rise high into the sky as the now complete train began to leave the Old West behind, destination: Mount Pleasant Island. “Try not to blow this one up okay?”

Author's Note

Amazing, I've actually managed to write a chapter where nothing's been killed, or no shooting of any kind happens! :derpytongue2: (Well, aside from the verbal sniping anyways.) Once again, I have to thank RuinQueen for letting me use the entire conversation between Henri and Winter Breeze from chapter 20 (I swear, one of these days, I'm going to create my own dialogue from Winter, one of these days...) of Survivor's Guilt. Anyways, truly sorry if I went a little bit overboard on the gun descriptions for Riptalon and Iron's new toys. Apologies for that. To be honest, I based them off of these guns from the Halo Series.

http://halo.wikia.com/wiki/Lawgiver_(weapon)

http://halo.wikia.com/wiki/M395_Designated_Marksman_Rifle
(With the Monocle skin)

For extra points, I at one point thought about naming Iron's new weapon "Vox Populi", but I decided against it as I need a good in-universe explanation as to why it would be named that. And before you ask... Yes, I did put in God's Gonna Cut You Down. (Or should that be Gawd's Gonna Cut You Down? :derpytongue2: ) ...Like that song wasn't going to show up eventually at some point, right?

Part 8: The Big Easy

And so the iron horse rolled on and on, whistle cutting through the night like a blade. Henri’s company had long left the west behind and were now trundling deep through the eastern coasts of Equestria, taking the seaside routes through the swamps and low-hills as the trains neared the ancient city of Neigh Orleans, the City That Care Forgot. The Big Easy. The Crescent City. All of these were nicknames for the swamp-surrounded city that would be their halfway point between Old Appleloosa and Mount Pleasant Island to the north, just below what used to be Fillydelphia.

All the while, the war waged across Equestria between the NCR as reported by both DJ Pon3 and Homage over their respective radio stations.

“Okay, if you’re just tuning in you know the drill. I’m Homage, Bearer of the Element of Honesty and telling you the truth, no matter how much it hurts. And honestly… Celestia fuck me sideways as my marefriend would like to say… It’s a mess out there. Enclave’s reclaiming territories, I’ve heard from a very reliable source they’re on the move towards Manehatten. So if you’re fighting out there, I’m warning you right now load up your guns as you’ll be getting hit hard if there’s any truth at all to these rumors,”

”In other news, I’ve heard small rumors here and there of a mare named Electra, captain of an airship named the Budgie Dream going after the Carrion Skull. The Carrion Skull, dear listeners, if you’re not caught up on Equestrian history was the personal ship of the legendary pirate captain Celaeno.

It’s a ghost ship, nobody’s ever seen it for ages. Supposedly been flying these hell-torn skies under the Enclave’s radar for 200 years, but me personally… I think that’s a crock of shit. Still, it’s a nice dream to chase after so props to Ms. Electra for having the gumption or sheer insanity to go after it.

Plus, pirates! I mean, seriously… Pirates! How cool is that? Excuse me while I squee a moment, eh?”

Sure enough, there came a very un-Homage like squeeing sound from Iron’s Pipbuck. “Don’t let Littlepip know I did that okay? Please? Pinkie Promise? I’d never hear the end of it from her if she knew I just did that. Anyways, as the old saying goes… Every normal mare or buck must be tempted at times to spit on his or her hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats. So, I tip my feathered hat off to Electra for doing just that.

Really quite the undertaking. It’s a foolish one I know, but then again… I suppose trying to take on the Enclave when they first descended from the clouds was one as well I suppose and yet we, as Equestrians succeeded. So, a huge shout out to that presumed wayward bunch of scoundrels, assassins, and thieves,”

“Now, in other news, -and here’s hoping the Enclave isn’t listening to every word I say… Huh, should probably begin checking my studio, which I like to call Galaxy News for bugs- there’s this little group I’d like to give another shoutout to. It’s currently way-bound for Mount Pleasant Island, or as we here in the NCR support group like to call it… Suicide Central. Henrietta 'Henry' Firebright -Yes, that one- is currently leading a group there to see why everything’s suddenly gone all quiet.

Hopefully, all the Mirelurks and the like died off from radiation poisoning, but that’d be too much to ask for eh? Now, I just want to highlight radiation poisoning. Nasty stuff. You’ve seen Ghouls right? Well, that’s one of the possible end results of the stuff. Well, that or you becoming a pony forest fire. Your choice of death really. Take your pick. But wait! There’s more!” Homage suddenly chimed, sounding a hell of a lot like a bad infomercial. “You can prevent becoming one of the aforementioned zombies or forest fires by taking Rad-Away, or even better as Rad-Away is rancid as crap, RadSafe! ...Celestia, please tell me I didn’t just sound like an infomercial right there did I?”

Another voice chimed in and shouted quite audibly, “Yeah, you did Homage!” and the mare cursed to herself.

“...If you’re a little filly or foal, pretend you didn’t hear that eh? ...Actually, if you’re a little filly or foal why are you even listening into this? This shit I report isn’t for kids ya know!” Homage shouted before she began to ramble nonsensically. “Plus, my language… I should be spanked for that. No, wait… I actually like spankings. So, give me a bar a soap in my mouth for that little bit. ...Can we cut that bit out? Not how I planned my broadcast to go. Aw crap… I just remembered we’re going live.

So, no cutsies and you get a free insight into my sex life with Littlepip whenever we meet up. Tell your friends and you all can jack off together! Come to my studio and we can meet face to face and you can tell me all about it!” Homage said cheerfully before her voice turned sarcastic. “Actually, let’s be honest here. If you’re doing that with your friends… Actually, I’d be shocked if you have any friends if you masturbate to someone else’s sex life as that’s just… Well no other word for it but euugh… I don’t want to meet you face to face. To tell you the truth, I’d probably punch you.”

Iron had to suppress a snort at that. He couldn’t agree more really. Riptalon, on the other hand, was having no such luck and laughing his head off, cackling like a hyena with Henri shaking her head at her fellow griffon’s antics. Of course, Riptalon’s amusement was soon to fade with what Homage had to say next.

“Now, back to the main story of interest. Henri’s leading her crew towards Mount Pleasant Island, and Celestia and Luna knows why, but I’ve heard rumors that they recruited Riptalon Hawkwind of all griffons as one of their troops! Sheesh, the NCR must be desperate if they’re going to such lengths to investigate what’s been going on over there. Regina Grimfeathers, if you’re listening, can I just ask, what the FU-”

Riptalon, having had quite enough of Homage for one day and not wanting to hear her rant on and on about him, quickly turned Iron’s Pipbuck over to DJ Pon3’s own station.

“...Now, this is DJ Pon 3. Same pony time, same pony station. Now, I want to talk to you a little about Scootaloo-Dash hmm? Yes, I know she created those damn stables amongst other things but for the past year’s she’s been wandering around the Wasteland making up for what she’s done. Fighting the good fight and all that. Hell, I personally interviewed her remember? So for all you neighsayers who are so inclined to want to shoot Scootaloo dead, remember, she’s actually saving your asses from Winter Breeze and her Enclave,” the pony commented. “Hell, wouldn’t be surprised if she’s going up against those Nightmare worshippers as well. Probably doing a lot more to help the Wasteland than you are, so if I was you I’d get up off your butts, and do something to fix that. Maybe shoot a few of Winter Breeze’s followers dead, would do us all a favor.

“...Sorry, I had to get that off my chest. Anyways, reports are coming in from around Hoofington and Stalliongrad about the Enclave making movements in those areas. Vertibucks have been seen surveying the cities, and I heard rumors of some high-ranking Enclave officials, -Even heard Winter Breeze herself might have been on the ground- approaching the leaders of those cities to occupy them, keep them safe from the native wildlife and help rebuild in exchange for housing their troops for a bit.

“Or in other words, forever in this broadcaster’s mind. So just keep in mind, if the Enclave tries to approach you and say their occupancy is only temporary, don’t buy into it alright?” DJ Pon3 said before he continued. “Now, in other news, I’ve heard some interesting reports about a splinter faction of the Enclave. Just rumors right now, and I don’t know how much truth there is to this as these are only unsubstantiated reports but I’ve heard about Enclave troops dressed in black and red armor, flying black and red aircraft.

“Very edgy, I must say. Can I just ask, was the Grand Edginess Enclave already taken as a name? But more seriously and somewhat more frighteningly, unlike Winter Breeze’s troops, they seem to be more obvious in their motives, claiming that they’re cleansing the impure in the name of Celestia. ...So, basically the new and improved version of Commander Harbinger’s’ Enclave then. Wonderful…”

Even a deaf buck would be able to hear the sarcasm when DJ Pon3 said “New and improved”.

Nobody saw this as they were all too focused on their weapons or their own Pipbucks but Iron cast a nervous glance to his shoulder. He was wearing bits and pieces of black and red armor when he’d crawled into that saloon back into Old Appleloosa.

“No… No I couldn’t be… Could I?” Iron muttered to himself quietly, and as he looked out a window at the darkened swamps, he could have sworn he saw in the window a mirror image. One of an armored pegasus, wearing black and red insectoid like armor. And the wings, they were a frightening shade. One of pure solid gray, like a nimbostratus cloud. Exactly like Iron’s own. “No… Just the lack of sleep getting to me… That’s all it is…” He murmured to himself but didn’t sound exactly reassured.

“Oh, one last thing. Those Nightmare worshipping freaks, they’re still out there as well. So, we’ve got two religious nutjob cults (As that’s really the only word for them) out and about, plus Winter Breeze’s folks. But it’s not all doom and gloom people. Oh no, I’ve heard rumors of this Gray Ghost thing ripping into the Nightmare forces. One group of Alicorns, ripped clean to pieces by one thing! Now, I don’t know what to believe. Maybe this Gray Ghost really exists, or maybe, more likely it’s some group under Zebra Stealth Cloaks. You decide, dear listeners.”

“Celestia above… What are we going to do about them?” Riptalon asked, gesturing with a paw to the dead bodies of the NCR troopers the feral ghouls released by the Engineer. (As Target had called him) They’d been piled up unceremoniously in the back of the carriage under a tarp by Henri and Midnight. It was a rather cold method of dealing with them for the time being, but Riptalon knew there was no other way of dealing with them for the time being. He just had to put up the stench of them for the time being.

“Told you before,” Henri answered. “When we get to Neigh Orleans, we’ll be giving them a proper soldier’s burial. But for right now, you’ll just have to buck up and get used to the stench.”

Of course, there was one thing they didn’t take into account. And that was a certain pegasus named Iron Skies. For the past few hours, he’d seen a few radigators peeking their heads out of the water, presumably attracted by the smell of the bodies. So, it wasn’t that long before both Henri and Riptalon found the pegasus dumping the bodies one by one into the waters below.

“What the hell are you doing?” Henri snapped, her eyes red with rage and she looked as if she was about to reach for her twin pistols. “I told you, we were going to give them a proper burial when we got to Neigh Orleans!”

“Well, it’s not like they’re asking questions about how they wanted to be buried,” Iron said coldly, as he tossed the last body out the window and into a radigator’s waiting mouth. “Unneeded load, if you ask me, and the stench was starting to get to me.”

“There’s a little thing called respect for the dead, or haven’t you heard of that?” Henri snapped, memories of Puppysmiles’ body being taken over by that… thing filling her mind. By no stretch of the imagination was this the same thing at all, but there was still some measure the dead had to be respected. “Look, I get it if you wanted to get rid of them in case we stopped at a station and by some chance, Winter Breeze had a spy and she or he started asking questions about the stench, but calling them an unneeded load? They were ponies at one point, for fuck’s sake!”

“Yes, was. Or have you lot forgotten that?” Iron asked for clarification, still in that same cold tone of voice and that was the end of the matter. Henri contemplated shooting him right then and there and feeding his body to one of the swamp-dwellers (See how he liked it) but remembered he was still valuable to them as another soldier. Or a meat shield.

She turned to a gaping, completely speechless Riptalon and muttered “You pick the strangest friends…” as she shook her head and walked off angrily still muttering under her breath about Iron and then finding something to shoot.

Neigh Orleans

And so, with a still furious Henri in tow, the train pulled into Neigh Orleans with a huff of steam and a sharp piercing whistle with a steaming smoky cry.

“Ah, Neigh Orleans…” Riptalon started off as a storm broke open, and waters drenched the blood-soaked griffon as the skies flashed with dazzling displays of jagged lightning and the winds howled through the trees. “Never change, old girl. Never change.”

Jazz wafted from bars onto the streets as rain-soaked ponies rushed inside old Prench built buildings, their hooves trampling the muddy cobblestone streets. Under the cover of a balcony, an old stallion strummed his hooves lightly on a messy and beat up acoustic guitar playing the blues. “Hellhound on my Tail” if Riptalon remembered correctly.

Neigh Orleans was, to be perfectly honest, like no other city in Equestria. To the common pony, it might have been seen as downright odd. The first puzzles came in the form of the now famous Prench Quarter, not more than just a row of old townhouses and cottages standing one by one next to each other. The bars, much to many a stallion’s pleasure, had no closing hour and often served the spiciest of foods. Music, as you may have already noticed was everywhere. From little bars in side streets just barely tucked away to right in front of your very face.

Neigh Orleans was awash with life of every kind to the partygoers, to the homeless just striving to get by day to day. There was soul food restaurants, gentlestallions’ clubs and plenty else to please the visitor. You could catch on a good day the whiff of jasmine blossoms as you munched on cornbread at your leisure.

Leisure, that was a good word for the city. You really just wanted to stay and take life at your own pace while you were there as if the troubles of the world couldn’t bother you for a spell.

Even 210 years later, it still hadn’t changed. Life was slowly coming back to the city little by little as it reclaimed its glory days of long ago.

Neigh Orleans was one of those cities that had been built by not one race in particular. The Prench, the Zebras from Africa, and the Spaneighish had all contributed in one way or the other. In fact, the Café du Monde at Jackson Square was Spaneighish in its construction, not Prench as so many believed it to be.

And of course, what can we say about Neigh Orleans or any part of the deep southern part of Equestria without mentioning voodoo? That mysterious religion, always believed to be associated with zombies and putting hexes and curses on people.

Or at least, that’s what the foolish and simple-minded propagated.

But really, it wasn’t that. It was the honoring of ancestors, amongst other things with song and dance brought into the city by the Zebras long ago. It was really only in the popular mind that the curses and hexes were thought of, not what Voodoo really was. If you cared to look deep enough, you’d find the truth. But not many were that brave, or at least less prejudiced.

But Riptalon didn’t care about any of that. He was just happy to find a nice place to sleep for the night, and perhaps a good solid dinner after being out in the Old West with only rations to sustain him for so many days.

Whispers hissed out from the townsfolk as Riptalon strode into town, but for once in his life, they weren’t directed at him. No, instead they were directed at Iron Skies. That was perfectly understandable, in the current climate pegasi weren’t exactly favorites among ponykind.

Suddenly, a pair of hooves grabbed Riptalon and Iron by the necks and pulled them into a bar out of the pouring rain.

“Y’all trying to attract attention or somethin?” a southern fried Dixie style accent asked and both Riptalon and Iron got a good look at who had pulled them into the dimly lit bar. A jukebox played an old song from somewhere nearby, but neither wanderer could be bothered to care to listen to it. Not with the pony in front of them.

He was brown furred and wore a Stetson like Target. Unlike Target, however, he was a pegasus with small glints of metal under his rusty brown wings. Mechanical implants. A rifle, looked to be a carbine rested on his back.

But the most obvious feature was the Dashite brand, a gray cloud shooting out a thunderbolt, a purposefully twisted mockery of Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark. Riptalon’s eyes widened and he let out a nervous swallow and muttered “Hoo boy…”

“Nice hat, Calamity Jane!” Iron snorted. The new pony didn’t look amused and muttered something to himself. It sorta sounded like he was saying “That again? Really?” but Iron couldn’t be quite sure.

“I’m sorry Deadshot, didn’t realize walking about in the street was a good way to attract attention,” Riptalon snarked, and neither of them noticed Iron wriggling his way out from Calamity’s grip and walking up to the bar and order two shots of whiskey. And then a shot of bourbon.

“It is if one of the ponies you’re traveling with happens to be a pegasus, good way to have interestin’ questions asked. Especially when said pegasus looks like shit and is half-covered in blood, packin' heat in an NCR issued weapon.” Calamity responded.

“Relax, he’s with me, I trust him. ...Okay, maybe not but I owe the ass my life so that’s something at least, right?”

“Yeah, ya owe a lot of debts Blackhawk, just sayin. Not gettin’ in my good books really with that excuse,” Calamity replied before his voice lowered. “Listen, Ah may have pulled your fat out of the fire a few times here and there and got the lawmen off yer tail, but that does not make us in anyway friends,”

“Yeah, yeah… Henri told me the same thing as well, she’s been yabbering on about that ever since we met up a few days back on that recruitment drive of hers,”

Realization slowly came to Calamity’s face. “Right… Homage did mention somethin’ about her and a group going to Mount Pleasant Island. Actually got a message to reserve rooms here in advance by Henri a day or so back now that Ah think of it. Now, about this here friend of yers, he’s a member of the Enclave isn’t he?”

“You think he’s not?” Riptalon asked, his voice lowering to Calamity’s own pitch as they took a seat at a table, chatter from the ponies around them fading out.

“Well, Ah could be inclined to believe that he’s a Stable-Dweller… Heck, if ya had the caps Ah’d could probably convince everybody else in this here town the same thing. But knowing your type of friends, Ah wouldn’t be surprised if he was an Enclave soldier… or at least a former one,”

“You saying I’m a traitor?” Riptalon hissed out.

“Well, ya are to everybody at large,” Calamity pointed out. “Not ta me, of course, but to everybody else…”

“Fair point…” Riptalon grumbled out. “But you’re absolutely right, I have no doubt in my mind about who he used to work for. Hell, I’d believe he was a Stable-Dweller if not for the simple fact I found him near the burning hulk of an Enclave cloudship back in Old Appleloosa. Too much of a coincidence. I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise…” the merc trailed off.

“But it’s the odd thing, isn’t it?” Calamity replied. “No Dashite brand, nothin’ of the sort is there? It’s a walkin’ conundrum…”

“Gets weirder still, guy claims he doesn’t even know his own name. What a load of-”

But whatever Riptalon had to say was cut off when the subject of his and Calamity’s ponderings was getting up off his barstool, and swaggering towards them obviously incredibly drunk.

“Heya lads… You’re fine looking bucks, aren’t ya? I could just eat you up!” Iron slurred out and licked his lips before he began taking a close sniff of Calamity who quickly shoved him away.

“Ah’m happily married, thank you!” Calamity barked out.

“Oh no…” Riptalon muttered, shaking his head and letting it hit the table in embarrassment.

“Calamity… You, er… Mind giving me a hand here?” He murmured, not quite sure what to do really. Poor fellow.

“Calamity!” Iron suddenly shouted, throwing a wing around the very embarrassed stallion. “Hey everybody, I met up with some scumbag raiders back in Old Appleloosa saving that fat arse’s (Here he pointed to Riptalon) life! Ya know what they did?” He hiccuped out. “They compared me to him, they did! Called me a knock-off of Calamity here!”

“Well, to be fair he does have the background of being a former Enclave soldier and he was wearing a Stetson at the time… Plus, much as I hate to admit it, damn good shot.” Riptalon thought to himself.

“Great, so a mix between me and Blackjack ‘erself…” Calamity muttered, hiding his hugely embarrassed face under the brim of his hat.

“I dunno who this Blackjack pony is mate, -if she’s even a pony- but I consider that a compliment!” Iron slurred out. Riptalon facepawed.

“Wasn’t supposed ta be one, ya idjit…” Calamity muttered to himself.

“You know this griffon here?” Iron continued to ramble on, now shouting to the whole bar at large. “I don’t know if it’s common knowledge, but he’s wanted by everybody in the Wasteland! Even I want to kill him ‘alf the time! Honestly, it’s griffons like him that give griffons like him a bad name! And yet I saved his fat feathered arse! And then I snuggled with him in the dead of the night!”

Calamity’s head whirled around to face Riptalon and stared directly at him. His eyebrow arched, almost as if to say “Really now…?”

“No comment…” the now thoroughly embarrassed Riptalon muttered to himself, wishing he could shrink down into nothingness in his seat. Hoots and hollers echoed from around the bar, making things that much worse.

Iron then raised a glass of bourbon, swiping it away from a passed out stallion. “A toast, to the world’s biggest arsehole, that for whatever reason, I actually want to keep alive!”

Riptalon then heard loud, feminine laughter and then he saw Henri, in the corner of the bar laughing at the whole spectacle alongside a few others. Lo and behold, the cackling hyenas had arrived. Henri, he would later note was now in a very form fitting and flexible body suit with light armor on the shoulders and other areas. It was one of a number standard issue uniforms for NCR troops. Riptalon personally never was really fond of it honestly, too constricting in his opinion. Squished his chest (Amongst other things if you catch my drift) too much.

The male griffon groaned and muttered to himself “Oh, Celestia fuck me sideways…”

“You know…” Iron said, leaning in close with the liquor wafting off his breath. “I may not be this Celestia mare, whoever she is, but I can handle the fuck you sideways part…”

Before Riptalon could respond, Iron then fell forwards and slammed his head on the table completely unconscious.

It was then Calamity burst out laughing, clutching his sides in great amusement as Riptalon muttered “Some friend you are… Can you at least help me carry this moron to his room?”

“Sure, sure… But you’re spending the night with him, aren’t you?” Calamity sniggered and Riptalon glared at him. If looks could kill, the pegasus would have been vaporized Novasurge Rifle style on the spot.

“Asshole…” Riptalon muttered to himself as he and Calamity carried the unconscious Iron Skies up to a bedroom. A bedroom, which Riptalon quickly noticed, only had one bed exactly.

“Have a nice night…” Calamity sniggered again as he shut the door after depositing Iron on the bed.

“DAMN YOU HENRI!” Riptalon roared as he grumpily pulled the sheets over himself, and once again a loud cackling sound was heard. Riptalon could only emit yet another groan of embarrassment as he reached for the bedside lamp and flicked it out.

Author's Note

Okay, first off give a very happy birthday to my good friend RuinQueenofOblivion. (Hell, a huge thank you for letting me play in her entire spin-off universe to begin with.) This entire chapter is pretty much my birthday present for her, especially the inclusion of her DJ Pon3 title Xiraia here. (Personal victory for me here, as I finally get to write that character with some of my own dialogue.) Also, speaking of credit, obviously Homage and Calamity belong to KKat.

On Calamity actually, he's not going to be heading off to Mount Pleasant Island like Henri and company, he's just staying for a bit of the next chapter and that's that.

Also, on credit, the shout out Homage makes to Electra and the Carrion Skull is a nod towards Fallout Equestria: Black Flag by Norbu, so credit to him for that. Well worth a look, that fic. Not the best, but it has potential.

Okay, now for a few confessions, at the beginning of this story, my heart wasn't really into things and writing it. I liked FOE and it's spin-off fics, (And again, a huge thanks to RuinQueen for investing me in this MLP sub-fandom) and even played a small bit of Fallout 3 -I sucked, but that's not the point- but half the time I was wondering what the Hell I'd gotten into writing this. Didn't know what I was doing half the time, and Hell, sometimes I still have doubts.

But now I have the basic plotlines figured out in my head, and some good ideas so I'll just keep pushing on forwards, like that iron horse rolling on in this chapter. Now, the other confession. This one I'm more embarrassed about. Langauge, specifically the constant dropping of the F-Bombs in the early chapters. Heck, still using a few in this one. I admit, I suppose I was trying to make this fic more edgy... (Even if this is Fallout: Equestria...) and I really don't normally use the F-Word in real life unless I'm really pissed off about something. I know it's not me saying it as such, but I'm still typing it out. Trying to cut down on the more extreme curses from here on out.

(Also another shout-out goes to Dreams of Ponies and a friend from MojoJojoFan1994's Discord server who sadly has to go unnamed because of the fact that he has no account here for help with the editing on this chapter. Thanks, guys!)

Anyways, enough of my rambling. As always, comments and critique are welcomed!

Part 10: Welcome to Mount Pleasant Island

The train left Neigh Orleans that next morning, leaving the sweltering heat, the sleaziness and the fresh whiskey on the hour far behind as it rolled on down the lines. The train belched smoke high into the sky, casting dark clouds on an otherwise clear fall day. Pistons churned, and wheels spun as the massive child of industry huffed and chuffed out of the swamps surrounding Neigh Orleans.

Inside the passenger cars, the mood was tense. The troops of Henri’s little company, they’d had their little party night in Neigh Orleans, but now it was back to business. Back to the matter at hand, namely clearing out the Grand Pegasus Enclave from Mount Pleasant Island.

Midnight was constantly fiddling with his shotgun, cleaning and inspecting it more times than needed. He was now clad in the standard NCR jumpsuit like Henri and Iron were.

Riptalon was sharpening his knife, even though it was hardly what one would call blunt in any manner of speaking.

Nearby, the two looked to see a certain earth pony mare and what she was up to. Target, she’d grabbed a spare combat knife and duct-taped it to the barrel of her rifle, now making it partially a bayonet if she ever found any need to get in close. Target, however, hopefully, wouldn’t need to do that and would just stay far out of the line of fire and pop some heads before anybody saw the bullets coming. Speaking of bullets, one was currently in her mouth like a sort of cigar.

In his seat, Iron was etching something onto his gun, but what it was exactly, nobody could tell. Eventually, he stopped and set it aside for the moment.

A certain griffon flashed back to the moment she’d learned exactly what she and her troops were stepping headlong into.

“So, it’s true then?” Henri asked, looking directly at Calamity. Her seemingly constantly angry orange eyes bored into his calm nougat ones. “The Enclave is indeed in control of Mount Pleasant Island? I swear, your contact flying near that island better not be lying or exaggerating, cause otherwise, you’re getting a good black eye to go with that brand of yours, got it?”

“Cross mah heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in mah eye…” Calamity replied, saying the sacred Promise Littlepip had told him about after she’d learned of it in one of those Memory Orbs. “Ya probably don’t know what it means, but it’s a promise that ya never break. Not even in the slightest. Besides, would ya really think Blackjack would lie about somethin’ like this? Somethin’ this big?”

Henri looked taken aback, she hadn’t been expecting that. She knew Blackjack was constantly taking jobs, none of which involved bloodshed. (And to be honest, after her experience with Lighthooves, Henri couldn’t blame her.) Often at times, they were just bringing medicine to the wounded, teleporting to the frontlines with an Alicorn and medical supplies in tow. Whether that alicorn stayed to help turn the tides of the battles was their choice. Blackjack, although she didn’t like it, knew she couldn’t force the alicorns from not fighting. They were a part of this war for freedom now.

Nobody was quite sure when they’d made their choice to fight. Some say it was ever since the Goddess died, and that was probably true. Others speculated that it became their war when a certain group of Nightmare Moon Cultists popped up and started abducting away children of theirs into the night. The children, they were part of the race’s survival. Every alicorn child born was a precious commodity to them. To lose one, that was a surefire way of igniting their rage.

Henri honestly pitied those who were on the wrong side of an alicorn’s glowing horn.

“Wait, so Blackjack… On top of providing medicine to the boys on the frontlines, she’s been doing recon missions?” Henri asked in shock, eyes blinking as she tried to process what she’d heard. Calamity only nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, that she has. While back, y'all in the up in the main forces of the NCR mite have heard about a group of Rangers bringin’ down a platoon of Vertibucks thanks to Ms. DJ Pon3. Bless his heart, givin’ us the news like he does. Or her, Ah’m not sexist. Anyways… Well, most of ‘em were destroyed, but…”

“One survived…” Henri trailed off in understanding. “And Blackjack’s been flying it back and forth around Equestria keeping an eye on the Enclave’s activities…”

“Yeah, lately she’s been around Mount Pleasant Island. Even with all the fog around that Celestia-forsaken place, she’s been seeing Vertibucks along with those new-fangled Dust Devils flying to the island,” Calamity replied. “Stick out like a stumpy wing they do, with them red and black paint jobs.”

Henri shuddered a bit. Dust Devils, a stepping stone if you will in-between Vertibucks and the Raptor Class of Cloudships. Named after their creator in a possible fit of Enclave narcissism, seeing just one of those things was enough to run shivers up a whole platoon’s spines. Mainly used for rapid aerial insertion or extraction of small squads of troops, those metal monstrosities were a cross between gunship and dropship. Rounded and streamlined, they were perfectly capable of cutting through the air. Two nose-mounted autocannons were the most common weapon seen on them, although other variants were suspected to exist -At least from things like the aftermath of battles, and crude radio transmissions- like ones with rocket launchers and the like.

“Gawd’s nether regions…” Henri muttered, not caring about the possible blasphemy of the statement she’d just uttered. “What the Hell are they doing over there?”

“...Beats the tar out of me,” Calamity replied. “But Blackjack, before she decided it wasn’t worth the risk stickin’ around there any longer than needed, reported that they were carryin’ big pieces of metal to the island. Sounds to me like they’re building somethin’ out there,”

“Can’t decide if that’s the first piece of good news I’ve had in awhile, or the worst…” Henri muttered.

“If you want mah honest opinion? It’s probably both.” Calamity replied simply.

Henri now paced back and forth with a combat knife in her claws, fiddling with it out of worry. She knew everyone was worried and viewed it as a failure on her part. She was supposed to keep the troops from falling to pieces, keep them in line. That was her job as a commander.

As she watched the sun set over the horizon, and day turn to night she sighed. “Keep it together Henri, they’ve got every right to be scared. Midnight, Target, Iron… Hell, even Riptalon, damn him. This is the Enclave, everybody’s worst nightmare. It was bad enough with Winter Breeze and dealing with her forces, but now a splinter faction? Dear Gawd, if I make it out of this one alive, I swear I’m retiring early,” Henri thought to herself as she paced back and forth, train wheels trundling under her feet. “...Least you know what this group wants though, unlike with Winter Breeze’s, whose intentions I’m still not sure on. Sure, she’s part of a group that calls themselves the Enclave, but she actually showed sorrow for the death of Puppysmiles. Aren’t the Enclave supposed to be all about cleansing the impure? If so, why would their President show sorrow for the death of one Pink Cloud comprised filly? Something stinks here, and honestly… I don’t like it.”

She sighed again. Celestia and Luna above, she just wished for the days when it was just simply pointing and shooting at a target not caring about who they were. Kill this guy, kill that guy, and get paid. That was how it was, even before she joined up with the NCR. Now, things were... complicated.

Meanwhile, as the night drew on, Midnight walked over to Riptalon.

“Surprised you haven’t taken the chance to knife us all in the back like a ninja and jump off this train to fly away into the night like some coward…” the Earth Pony commented. Riptalon chuckled.

“Trust me, if I’d wanted to do that… I’d have done it long before,” Riptalon remarked before he shook his head. “Gawd! Going into battle against the Enclave on Mount Pleasant Island… How many ways can you say are we completely screwed?”

“Watashitachi wa kanzen ni dainashidesu.” Midnight answered in Neighponese, and what Riptalon would later regard as the understatement of the century. Midnight honestly didn’t know if Riptalon actually understood Neighponese or he just got the general gist of it. Somehow, he wouldn’t have been shocked if the griffon, given his status as a wanderer, did know the language or at least a little of it.

“...Suppose I asked for that one, didn’t I?” Riptalon laughed wryly before muttering an old poem under his breath: “Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred.”

Sighing, Midnight walked over to Iron, who was cleaning off the Lyra Heartstrings doll he’d acquired and brushing its mane. Midnight laughed a little.

“I’d heard from Target you had one of those things, but I thought she was pulling my leg, to be honest. So, what’s the story behind that anyways?”

“You really want to know?” Iron asked before replaying the recording he’d found back in Old Appleloosa.

“Shows what I know, eh? Every little foal’s dream to become a flank-kicking member of the Equestrian Royal Guard. Did that, so at least I’ll go out happy. Defending Equestria to the end. Regrets… Eh, not many really. Maybe not taking out the entire race of zebras with a megaspell, possibly. That… and never getting lucky with a mare. My Lyra doll may have had something to do with that. So what? Sue me. I don’t give a damn anyhow. We’re all allowed like what we want.

“That’s… surprisingly noble of you. If not a bit foolish, given that you’ll probably have no luck finding any relations of Steel. Anyways...” Midnight remarked, eyes widened slightly. “And here I thought you were just some cold, gun-toting buck who was in a relationship with Riptalon,”

“Seriously, why does everybody think me and that twat are having sex like a couple of bunnies?” Iron questioned.

His eyes trailed to Midnight’s flank for a brief moment, though not because he was eying him in a sexual manner. He’d always been curious as to what that butt-tattoo of his, black tomoed rings inside a red circle meant. He knew these marks always signified something, didn’t know how he knew that. He just did. It was like something in the back of his mind he couldn’t quite place. Target’s had been easy enough to figure out, considering it was just a simple target and she was an expert sniper if the tales were true. Though he’d probably never get an answer out of Midnight, considering he was friends with Riptalon, and by association that meant Midnight hated him as well.

Outside the window, fog began to roll in as the train crossed the long bridge over the sea that led to Mount Pleasant Island. It was the heavy sort, and at times it was almost like it was intent strangling the air around it. It was a thick, choking fog. Heavy as soup. It made far too good of an opportunity for an ambush.

“...Dunno, he just seems like your type,” Midnight shrugged before his ears perked up. “Hold it, what’s that…?”

Iron’s ears perked up as well, he heard it too. A distinct mechanical whirring waspish sound, as shadows darted through the mist like giant mechanical insects. Iron’s eyes widened in alarm, he didn’t quite know how… But somehow, he knew that sound from somewhere.

A shiver went down his spine as the call went up and down the train cars. “Vertibucks! They’re all around us!”

“Defensive positions!” Henri barked out. “Aim for the pilots, aim for the gunners if you see them! Headshots are the name of the game here! Let’s see how bulletproof those windows of theirs are…”

Iron, as he saw one of the Vertibucks looming out of the fog. He went into S.A.T.S mode and the pilot inside the Vertibuck lit up green all over. He scrambled to a seat and laid down in a sniping position. His hoof went for the trigger, but just as he was about to fire off a shot, there was the sound of a rocket firing, then the distinctive Whoomp! of an explosion coming from somewhere ahead of him. A talon reached out and grabbed the pegasus by the scruff of his neck before he saw a fireball racing towards him and his whole world went up in flame…

“Swear you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days doing that,” a male voice commented, similar in accent to his own. Another tavern, another day. “I mean seriously, how many glasses have you drunk? Like you’re suffering from a bad break-up or something… Healthier ways to get over such a thing. Eat a bucket of ice-cream or two. Celestia knows you need to pack on the calories, looking awfully thin,” the voice commented kindly and the observer turned to face the speaker. It was a white pegasus, well mostly white. There were some splotches of cyan in his wings. Very large wings at that, a little too large for his body maybe.

If the observer had to make a comparison, he would have thought the pegasus to be similar to a cloudy sky, with small pockets of blue peeking through here and there. On his flank rested a gust of wind.

“Buttercream, not your place to chastise me on my drinking habits,” the observer replied in a gruff tone of voice. “Believe me, if you want to scold me like a little foal, do it when I’m actually doing something wrong. Like murdering somepony in cold blood. Then you can get on your high horse and chastise me like the pretentious, self-righteous arsehole you are,”

“Just sayin’, if you want to make your place in heaven with Celestia, quit now while you still can,” Buttercream remarked. “I love you mate, honestly I do, but just don’t want to see you dying a foolish death no thanks to your own stupidity,”

“With all due respect, go and bugger off eh?” the observer commented, flipping him a rude gesture with a wing. “Honestly, I don’t regret my life choices. The drinking, gambling, none of that. Unlike you, I’m not so blessed as to be given a good cloud crop and gotten rich off it. I have to earn my keep,” he remarked. “And another thing… For Celestia’s sake, will you stop listening to that preaching that evangelist Stormy Skies is spouting off eh? He’s a nutter, plain and simple. Celestia’s no god. ...If she was, we wouldn’t be sitting here above the clouds and the Wastes below wouldn’t have turned into a living nightmare,”

“Earn your keep?” Another mare asked, this one in various shades of light blue with a snowflake resting on her flank. She chuckled. “Gambling away what little life spendings you do have, that’s a funny way of earning your keep...”

“Great, so you’re ganging up on me with this arse, Madam Breeze? For Celestia’s sake…”

“No, not ganging up. I’m just trying to look out for my fellow pegasi. Ask yourself, what would your family think if they found you dead in some alleyway, stabbed by a bookie or your liver finally giving out? They’ve got a reputation, a nice one, and I just don’t want to see it ruined by your own follies,” Winter Breeze told him, in that horrendously kind voice of hers. “We’re all family here, that’s all we’ve got up here. Just… us,”

“You yourself sound like you’re preaching something Winter, Altruism I think it’s called. Well, here’s something for your sermons. For every choice, there is an echo. With each act, we change the world,” the observer remarked. “Yes, I know that sounds like a quote I probably stole from somewhere, but I’m just speaking my mind here. Just doing this out of my kind heart, or maybe I’m as stupid as Buttercream thinks I am, but we as a species do need to change. We’re too closed off. Can’t survive up here forever. Open up your eyes madam, see my standing. That birth control crap that was created? How many ponies do you think actually listen to it? Ponies are horny little bastards, you know that. Doubt they can keep their libido under control for long,” he continued in his drunken tangent. “Sooner or later, somepony, somewhere up here, they might just… slip up. Don’t count on anybody else, that’s my motto. Least… Don’t count on them obeying rules and laws that were set down. Ponies don’t like to be constrained, least of all us pegasi. We once flew free, and now here we are. Trapped like rats in a cage. Gotta fly free, if you will, in some other way…”

The observer got up from his seat and reached for his Novasurge rifle. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got better things to do then quibble about with you lot. I’ve got firing squads to teach. Some damn idiots still haven’t worked out how to use a Novasurge rifle properly...”

With that, he walked off, but not before hearing Winter Breeze and Buttercream mutter amongst themselves.

“Teaching a firing squad while completely plastered…? How the Hell is that supposed to work out?” Buttercream wondered aloud.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Nimbus, it’s that he’s stubborn. He’ll figure something out. ...Unless he ends up shooting his entire class out of frustration,” Winter Breeze remarked with a sigh before walking off. “Now if you excuse me, I’ve got things to do. Classes to teach. Celestia knows the questions that are going to be asked as to why I’m late, especially when I turn up smelling like a drunkard…”

“Hey, if he does end up shooting his entire class, least they’ll know how a Novasurge rifle works.” Buttercream muttered darkly.

“Come on! Don’t you die on me now, ya morons!” a female voice shouted, on the shores of Mount Pleasant. Somewhere in the mist, Target could hear the sounds of the Vertibucks, and see their shadows. Trouble was, she couldn’t just move from her location. Nor could she shoot one out of the sky.

Firstly, there lay both Iron and Riptalon, completely unconscious. So, heading inland, which would normally be the wisest choice, was not an option. And secondly, if she fired off even one single shot, there went their location. Right now, her only hope of survival was just praying that the Vertibucks didn’t think of looking towards the shoreline. Plus, that their pilots thought that the explosion of the train and taking out the bridge had killed them all in their surprise ambush.

“Target, stop looking through your scopes and get over here and help me!” Henri barked, and Target leaped down from her position atop a rock and tossed her rifle aside.

“I… I don’t know what to do, I was never trained in field medicine!” Target stammered out, starting to hyperventilate. “Certainly not CPR!”

Henri stared at her. “How the Hell do you not know CPR? It’s part of basic training for all NCR soldiers!” She snapped.

After taking a few calming breaths, Target answered. “Thought the damn thing was useless, considering if you landed in water, it was probably irradiated anyways!”

Henri swore under her breath, and turned to Midnight. “Stopwatch, now. Keep time,” she ordered and Midnight pulled out his stopwatch before Henri turned back to Target. “Okay, what we want is thirty chest compressions, four per second. Tilt head back, and two breathes.”

“Okay, got it!” Target nodded, and Henri continued to shout out orders.

“Elbows locked, full body weight on them, press hard down on breastbones,” Henri stated as she tried to get Iron’s heart started again. Target, nervous as she was, followed Henri’s maneuvers on Riptalon. What they were trying to do wasn’t forcing the water out of the lungs, it was to create pressure in the heart so that the blood would start moving in their body once again. The mouth to mouth, it would get air back into the lungs and filter into the blood. ...At least, that was the theory anyways.

Midnight eventually tossed away the stopwatch, remembering how tiring CPR was and started doing the breaths himself to Iron. Riptalon would just have to wait his turn.

“Come on, damn you… Don’t die on me now! As much of an asshole as you are, we need you!” Henri snarled out, before giving two more short breaths into Iron’s mouth. Midnight was forced to rotate back and forth between Riptalon and Iron, going to one, and then to the other.

“Oh… They’re getting closer…” Target muttered in a low tone, as her eyes briefly trailed to the sky. She hoisted Riptalon up onto her back with a groan. Griffon really needed to lay off on the snacks. Henri did the same with Iron.

“Move, now!” Henri said quickly, and the three made a dash for it up a nearby road, illuminated by small blue tinted lights. “We’ll come back for the guns later!”

“No!” Midnight shouted. “Someone’s got to keep watch, make sure those bastards don’t find us. ...Or, at least all of us,” he whispered, picking up Target’s rifle and placing a clip of ammo into it. Four bullets, not a lot but it’d have to do. All of this lunacy, of course, relied on the fact that Target’s sniper rifle hadn’t been completely ruined by its little trip into the seawater. And Celestia only knew what Target’s weapon had been modified to withstand. Upon closer inspection, Midnight saw the casing of the rifle read “End of the Line”.

He chuckled, fitting really. Looked like it was the end of the line for him. But he’d make sure he was going to go out with a bang. Hopefully several.

“Oh, damn you… Why’d you have to be so stubborn…?” Henri muttered before giving him a salute and saying: “Be safe.”

Then, through the mist and through the dilapidated forests and up the path they went. At some point in time, they passed a sign that read: “Coast Guard Station, Three Miles.”

Another nearby sign -A larger one, somewhat faded and covered in vines- had a happy smiling unicorn, one with a purple mane with light turquoise highlights, the mane itself resembling something out of the fifties. In her hoof was a drink called “Pon!”. Below that, it read “Starlight Glimmer, personal student of Ministry Mare Twilight drinks Pon!, why shouldn’t you?” If one was to be honest, that smile looked far too cheery to not be forced for the advertisement. If she had the time, Target would have rolled her eyes at the cheesiness of it all.

Eventually, the two stumbled upon an old ramshackle rickety satire of a shack, falling apart from years of miscare. Not ideal but it would have to do for the time being. Other buildings, of long ago were nearby, but only their concrete bases remained as evidence of them being there. This must have been the coast guard station that sign had mentioned.

And so, they set both Riptalon and Iron down again, and started compressing their chests once more, and breathing air into their lungs. From somewhere behind them, in the mist, the sound of gunfire echoed. Thundering booms, of a bullet breaking the sound barrier. Target’s sniper rifle. The sounds of machine gun fire, the SAWS (Squad Automatic Weapons) of the Vertibuck’s gunners. It seemed Midnight was charging into one last battle.

Henri hung her head as she heard the sound of an explosion, and in the distance, a fireball rose high into the sky. “Good on you, Midnight… Good on you,” Henri whispered as she crossed herself with a claw before turning back to Riptalon. “Not going to die on me today Blackhawk, not before I have a chance to kill you myself…”

Finally, a coughing sound and Riptalon spat up water, with Iron soon to follow. Henri breathed a sigh of relief, before her eyes widened in horror at the very distinctive sound of the rapid ticking of her Pipbuck’s Geiger counter.

She quickly shoved some Rad-Away into both of their mouths, and Iron was immediately hit with quite possibly, the most bile substance he’d ever had the displeasure of tasting. It hit like a brick, and was it rancid! He wanted to throw it right back up but forced it down, coughing and hacking.

“Yeah, yeah… Let it go down,” Riptalon muttered, after holding back his gag reflex. You never quite got used to the taste of the stuff. He’d had it before, and every time he wished he’d just died of the radiation poisoning. The stuff was that vile. “It’s a bitch, I know… But trust me, better this than a pony forest fire…”

“Whoever designed that stuff, probably killed a few ponies while doing so! I almost threw up!” Iron snapped. “Just… Just leave me here for a moment. I… I just… Go on, I jus’ need’a…” he coughed out, gesturing for them to leave before they all turned their heads away in disgust as a retching sound was heard. “...O-Okay, I’m good now…”

It was almost as if he was thinking, right before he threw up, that he just needed a minute to go lie somewhere and die. Well, if his reaction and tone was any indication.

“Almost threw up?” Riptalon asked, tilting his head. “I’d sorta say you did…” he commented with a somewhat amused smirk before it turned slightly sympathetic. “Believe me, kid, I’d like to say the taste gets better… But it doesn’t really.”

“Figured as much…” Iron grumbled. “My opinion, whoever designed that should be shot. In the head. Honestly… Bloody stuff might just kill you, it’s poison, it is! Radiation antidote, I don’t think so! ...Okay, maybe it is, but it puts you out of your misery before the rads get you…”

“Honestly, bottom of my heart?” Riptalon asked. “Been thinking the same thing myself whenever I take that crap at times. Seriously though... You alright?”

“Well, aside from the fact that I have this recurring nightmare where an insufferable arsehole keeps talking to me about all of his problems with me and expresses desires to murder me, and I can't escape, I'm fine and dandy.” Iron deadpanned. Riptalon actually cracked up at that.

“Well, look on the bright side. Instead of the train, we could have taken the boat ride... Got swallowed up by sea serpents instead of blown up." Riptalon snarked back.

“Will you two shut it?” Target hissed out, and both of them immediately shut their mouths, quelled by the look on the sharpshooter pony’s face. “Hear something. Over in that direction…”

Sure enough, there was the sound of metal hitting the gravel road and Henri’s eyes narrowed as she drew her knife.

“Enclave…” She growled out. “Knew it wouldn’t be long before they found us. Defensive positions!”

She tossed an assault rifle to Iron, who gripped it in his hooves, before rushing out of the shack and taking a position behind a boulder.

Then, from out of the woodland brush, came marching a squad of Enclave soldiers clad from head to hoof in insect-like Power Armor. Their ensemble was completed with an armored scorpion-like tail -Tipped off in a deadly looking stinger- swinging, dangling back and forth from left to right. The only part of their body that went unarmored was the wings, oddly enough. Maybe metal weighed them down, and made it hard, if not impossible for them to flap them and stay aloft for any length of time. Iron could only speculate, and he didn’t have long to do that as they opened fire with Novasurge rifles.

Firing hot plasma with each blast, one hit from any one of the guns would be a deadly, and an incredibly painful way to go out. Even as he peeked out from behind the boulder to fire off a few shots, before taking cover again, Iron remembered what Calamity had told him about this type of weapon back in Neigh Orleans.

“Now…” Calamity said, holding out a fearsome looking gun. “Novasurge rifles, standard issue weapon of the Enclave. Magical energy weapon, and very easy to maintain. However… very, and Ah mean very deadly. Incinerates ya on contact, you’ll die screaming. Not a very nice way to go, lemme tell you. Ah’ve used these, and even Ah feel sorry for the poor soul on the other end of the barrel. Mah advice, don’t get in a tangle with soldiers who have these… Though Ah have the feelin’ you will sooner or later in these times…”

“Surrender, and give yourselves up!” one of the soldiers shouted over the din of gun and plasma fire. “We give you our word, you won’t be harmed!”

Henri scoffed, yeah right. Like she believed that for a moment. They were just buying time until reinforcements arrived.

“Oh yeah? Well, I wanted a puppy when I was a little fledgling, didn’t mean I ever got one!” She snapped as she pulled out her pistols and using the S.A.T.S system, popped two of the soldiers clean between the eyes, bullets not caring about the armor and going clean through and through.

Iron joined in, and unleashed a spray of bullets as Riptalon threw a smoke bomb into the already chaotic battlefield. While the Enclave soldiers couldn’t see worth a dime, the same couldn’t be said for Iron who thanks to the S.A.T.S system, saw green figures in the smoke. His gun trembled in his hooves from the recoil as he fired again and again, hearing screams erupt from the smoke with each successful kill.

If Riptalon, or anybody else could be bothered to look at Iron’s expression, they might have been scared as on that muzzle rested an expression of tranquility. Like Iron was at home on the battlefield, nowhere else.

Soon, all the soldiers lay on the ground, limbs splayed out in various positions. Tin soldiers who were no longer played with… Or it seemed that way until Target felt a gun against her head.

Then, there was a loud boom as that pony’s head exploded in a shower of blood and gore, and after the body slumped forwards, there stood Midnight. His shotgun was in his hooves, barrels smoking.

“Midnight?” Target asked, scarcely able to believe it even as her rifle was tossed to her.

“Hey, told you I was going to buy you some time. Didn’t mean I was going to go out in some blaze of glory, cool as that would be.”

Target only laughed.

Author's Note

Okay, first off, huge thanks to my proofreaders for this chapter, Ponyjosiah13, Xenopony and KylerAdams of Stable Scout. Klyer Adams and Xenopony for the proofreading, and Josh for his help on teaching me actual CPR, which I'm embarrassed to admit, like Target herself, know nothing about. So don't trust me with saving your life one day if you fall in a pool okay? No, seriously... Don't. Now,
various other notes.

Originally, I was going to have Riptalon title drop the chapter in one of his comments towards Iron, but I decided against it. Dunno why, just did.

Actually, back to Target. For a while now, she's been this bland character, just sorta... there. But thanks to her creator, (Give him a shout will you?) he gave me a great idea on how to develop her more, add some character. I've also got a few ideas of my own, and they all line up with the name Quartermane. If you're a fan of classic novel characters or the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, you'd know the name I'm parodying.

Final bit, and this is mostly just trivia about a creature I may or may not use, but I'm thinking over of giving the FoE treatement to this critter from Kong: Skull Island. May not happen, but it's a thought.

As always, comments and critique are very welcome. :twilightsmile: Until next time, don't feed the Yao Gaui. That is all. :derpytongue2:

Part 11: The Scourge of Bittersweet Springs

Author's Note

Huge thanks to KylerAdams, Eagle-Paladin of Shadows, and Ponyjosiah13 for this chapter, cause they're awesome.

Part 11: The Scourge of Bittersweet Springs

Mount Pleasant Island:

After a rough night’s sleep near the shack that had once been the sole Coast Guard Station for the island, Henri and company made their way back to the coastline. Their purpose for doing so was to retrieve the supplies they’d left behind in their haste to the escape the Vertibucks, and hopefully see if any of it was still worth using and not waterlogged.

The fog had cleared away somewhat, but not entirely. It was still a necessity to use the lights that had been implanted on either side of the road for a full perception of the environment around them. The flashlights installed on the Pipbucks could only get one so far, after all. Shadows darted through the mist, and through the trees, and strange sounds echoed from the forest all around the group.

“It’s times like these I really wish we still did have that E.F.S. system installed on our Pipbucks…” Midnight muttered.

“You really want to know if there’s a chance that you’re surrounded by all kinds of messed up crap? Monsters… Ghosts, just hiding in the mist waiting to ambush you?” Target replied dryly, her rifle slung on her back.

“...Well, when you put it that way…” Midnight swallowed nervously, and clenched his shotgun in his hooves just a little bit tighter.

“You know, we could sing a little to help pass the time…” Target suggested. “Just to get our minds off of the fact that we’re walking through a figurative valley of death. Just whistle, maybe. Not like all of this talking’s given us away anyhow…”

“Point,” Midnight replied. “But you really wouldn’t want to hear me sing. I’m terrible at it, got kicked out of a karaoke night back in Junction Town for and I quote: “Singing that was offensive to the ears of the populace at large.”

Target stared at him in shock, lowering her sunglasses to look at the earth pony directly in the eyes.

“Wait, that was you?” Target replied. “...Celestia, strike the singing suggestion. Now I really don’t want to hear any of it… Least from you.”

“Gee… Thanks.” Midnight deadpanned. “While we’re the subject of our thoughts on each other, take those sunglasses off. They really don’t work in the mist,”

“Yeah, but they make me look cool.” Target replied, but Iron fully agreed with Midnight’s sentiments. And he had his own thoughts to share on the matter as well.

“No, they make you look like a complete and utter douchebag and an idiot who thinks she’s cool. It’d be the same thing with you wearing them at night, perhaps making a quip while standing over a dead body.” He said, in that blunt tone of voice of his that only he could pull off so well.

Target growled at him, but Iron just waved off the growl with a dismissive wave of his hoof. Sensing that this line of conversation wasn’t really the best of ideas, Midnight quickly changed the subject.

“Hey, any of you ever heard the rumors, you know the ones right?” He asked.

Henri groaned audibly.

“Please tell me this isn’t about that Grey Ghost crap. It’s a myth, nothing more. Despite what the radio has to say. No one pony is that good enough to just go hackin’ and a-slashing through enemy forces like some sort of badass from a bad piece of schlock fanfiction concocted by some hack writer,” Henri drawled. “Seriously, that one mare-army thing? It doesn’t exist!”

“Well, there’s Littlepip…” Midnight pointed out.

“And yet was she ever alone in her journey taking out the perils of the Wastes? Only time she went one mare army was the Massacre of Arbu with a Zebra Rifle, and that wasn’t even a fight. More like a slaughter. A well-deserved one I’ll grant you, but still…” Henri pointed out.

“That wasn’t the rumor I was referring to actually,” Midnight pointed out. “It was this one about this mare, strangely looking like Rainbow Dash except with a darker coat color appearing up in Fillytown, meeting with Fluttershy of all ponies!”

“Where’d you hear this from?” Henri asked, her ears perking up in interest.

“Friend of a friend of a friend of a brother’s… mother.” Midnight replied and Henri facepawed as the conversation faded out in Iron’s head, another flashback triggered.

There he found himself, in a crowd of pegasus ponies dressed in insect-like armor high in the sky, amongst the clouds. Atop a podium stood a pegasus similar in coat coloring and appearance to Calamity, but with a lighter shade of fur. It was tan, instead of the dark brown Calamity bore.

Next to him were effigies, one of a rainbow-maned pegasus with light blue fur, and another of a purple-maned pegasus, with orange fur.

“Now, you all know what they are, who they are! Their names… We shall not grace them with a name, they don’t deserve that, not after what they did! You all know the stories, they abandoned the clouds to help those worthless souls down in the Wastes below!” Autumn Leaf shouted to the populace before turning to the effigy of the rainbow mare. “Now, before Operation Cauterize begins, I just want to remind everypony of what we’re trying to do. Burn anypony like these traitors, these Dashites, and anybody who supports their cause!”

With that, he set the first effigy alight and the crowd roared and stamped their hooves in approval, and Iron heard a small growl come from nearby. He looked, and saw an aquamarine pegasus with a snowflake Cutie Mark vanish into the crowd in disgust.

“Hey Iron, you still with us?” Target asked, giving him a light tap on the shoulder pad.

“Sorry… Sorry,” he apologized. “Mind just wandered, you know how it is.”

“Fine time to take a daydream…” She muttered back before Riptalon spoke up.

“Huh, Target Quartermane. You know, with your rep, and your name, you could make quite a bit of money. Folks would pay quite a bit of money to travel with the Heroine of Bittersweet Springs, and a descendant of the legendary big-game hunter Allan Quartermane on top of that!” Riptalon commented. That turned out to be a mistake.

Target’s eyes narrowed, and before he could blink, a knife was held to Riptalon’s neck ready to sever his head from his shoulders in one clean cut. Target’s eyes bored into the griffon’s own.

“If you want to continue to breathe, I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut and never bring up either of those names again, understand? Are we clear on that?” She growled out in a low tone, and Riptalon nodded -Making a small squeak of fear in the process- and so the journey continued on in silence, at least for a little while. But it wasn’t to last. Perhaps predictably, it was Riptalon who broke the silence.

At one point, the “Blackhawk” as he was called swore he saw an alicorn’s distinctive form peering out of the darkness, and fired off a few blasts from Lawgiver, the muzzle flash very visible in the mist and the sheer sound sending a few birds flying up from their roosts in nearby pine trees.

“Idiot!” Henri hissed. “Are you trying to give us away? Those Enclave soldiers we encountered… Highly doubt that was the only squad on the island.”

“I’m sorry, but I swore I saw an Alicorn over in that direction!” Riptalon snapped, gesturing with a talon towards the treeline to the squad’s left. Henri sighed.

“Well, whatever it was… It’s gone now. Alicorn or not. You sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you?” the griffon inquired.

“Hard to fake both wings and a horn, really…” Riptalon muttered out as a reply. “I sorta trust my eyes, especially when they see what I just saw!”

Henri never gave him a response, or at least dignified him with one. She, in fact, stayed incredibly silent through the rest of their trek back towards the waterfront.

Eventually, they reached the beach and found amongst the burning hulks of the Vertibucks and corpses of Enclave soldiers, their remaining weapons, and supplies. Target, as she tossed Iron his rifle, let out a low whistle.

“Damn…” she whispered before turning to Midnight. “And you pulled this off?”

“Yeah… But make no mistake, I thought I was going to die. It was just a combination of luck and a few other things that I don’t have a hole in my skull right now…” Midnight trailed off.

“Well, whatever it was that kept you alive… Seriously, thanks. If you were a dead duck, so would I be at this point, considering that Enclave soldier had a Novasurge rifle to my skull and all…” Target trailed off.

“Hey, no problem. It’s all for one, and one for all these days,” Midnight replied. “We gotta stick together in these times, that’s the simple fact of the matter. No matter who we have to partner up with…” he trailed off, looking directly at Riptalon. The griffon rolled his eyes as he picked up a few clips of ammo out of the sand and stuffed them in his saddlebags.

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and put his ear to the sand. “Hey, you hear that? Sounds like something’s burrowing underneath us, and I mean right underneath us…” He trailed off, readying Lawgiver.

Iron heard it as well, and put his own ears to the ground before he let out a shout of “Holy Celestial Shit!” as a massive creature, that could only be described as a giant hermit crab erupted from the sand. A metal shack, advertising cooked lobster meat was acting as it’s shell. As it clutched Iron in one of it’s massive two front pincers, the pegasus shouted out: “Fuck you, Blackjack! No seriously, fuck you to Kingdom Come! Real great idea, convincing everybody to start disabling the E.F.S! Really would have loved an early warning system about this!” in both anger and fear. He heard the distinct crunching of armor as the crab squeezed, and looked it dead in the eye.

Riptalon and Midnight shared a look, and dropped their usual hostility towards the other and opened fired with their shotguns on the massive mutation, which frothed and bubbled at the mouth. Dodging and weaving between the legs, and getting up under it, they opened fire on the softer underbelly.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Their guns went, muzzles flashing and shell casings flying. At one point, the crab tried to slam it’s “Shell” atop them, but they both rolled out of the way.

“Okay… Clearly, getting up under it… Stupid plan!” Riptalon snapped as he fired off another shot and then found himself dodging another swing from the pincher as he reloaded. He then blasted the crab in its legs, ripping into the armor. Midnight took the same route. The crab raised one of its legs and tried to impale Riptalon, but Midnight blasted the leg point blank with his shotgun. Another leg was raised and knocked the two aside.

As he squirmed in the crab’s grip, Iron managed to pull out his Peacemaker and fired one direct shot towards one of the few unarmored areas of the beast: The eyes. While it missed and bounced off the crab’s armor, it did give Target an idea and she fired one powerful bullet from End of the Line right into the crab’s left eye.

It screeched out in pain and Iron found himself dropped to the sand in a frankly unceremonious fashion. Henri then took her chance and went into S.A.T.S.

Pulling out both White and Black Rose from their holsters, she leaped backwards as the crab tried to impale her with a leg and fired shot after shot into the crab’s mouth with a snarl of: “You want some of this you bastard?”

The crab let out one final screech and slammed into the sand with a loud thud, dead at last.

“T-Took you long enough…” Iron panted out before he turned to Riptalon, grinning in a wily manner at the griffon. “Aww, so you really do care!”

“Shut up,” Riptalon grumbled. “I was just saving my own pelt, understand?”

“Suit yourself…” Iron trailed off. There then came a shout from Midnight, the pure black Earth Pony pointing towards the sea with a hoof.

“Look, over there!” He shouted, and Henri watched as a hat, one belonging to a train conductor slowly floated towards them. It washed up on the shore, and Henri sighed sadly as she picked it up and shut her eyes.

“Another pony chewed up by this war, another pony dead because of the Enclave…” she thought to herself. “I… I never asked for their names, either of them you know? The conductor, nor the engineer.”

She then turned to the rest of her squad. “Did any of you?”

The silence said it all.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

Finally, after a short while, Iron spoke. “She… she was so full of life, y’know? Talked about her kids back in Neigh Orleans. Her husband as well. They’d just moved to the city, now that it was safe from the constant threat of something called ‘Firerain',” he said softly. “Said as soon as she was done with her job of taking us here, she was going to go back and see them. ...What… What are we going to tell them?”

“That she died like a hero, doing her duty. Nothing more, nothing less.” Riptalon answered quietly, though at once he knew that was the wrong thing to say and regretted it at once.

“Really?” Iron snarled, getting up close to the griffon’s beak, nose barely a few inches away before he grabbed him by the throat looking ready to throttle him. “Doing her duty? Cause I don't think that’s good enough! This wasn't a job, this was a suicide mission and we all knew it! Fuck, I suspect she knew it as well!”

“Well, what the Hell am I supposed to say? Be upfront, brutal like you are?” Riptalon snapped back, wrenching himself from Iron’s grip and shoving him away. “Say that she was slaughtered in cold blood by the Enclave?”

“...Well, at least that way you’d be honest about her death!” Iron growled.

“Yeah, but in some cases, a lie would be better than the truth. And this is one of those times…” Riptalon trailed off, and he said no more on the subject, collecting his belongings in silence.

That night, they made camp, opting to hide in the treetops to avoid the patrols of the Enclave soldiers, and the various animals that roamed the island. It wasn’t the most comfortable of sleeping arrangements, but it’d have to do for the time being. There was a stream about a quarter mile away, not too far away, but not too close to risk attracting the attention of the Enclave and them checking the nearby area.

Target and Henri remained awake for the night (Along with Riptalon thanks to his usual insomnia, but they did their best to ignore his presence.) to act as guards. Midnight and Iron hung upside down from the tree limbs in their sleeping bags, resembling giant bats in some fashion. Their weapons (Stored in bags) were acting as counterweights, slung over the tree branches with makeshift ropes of vines.

“Hey, you alright?” Henri asked, looking at the group’s sniper. “When Riptalon brought up that name… Allan, you flew off the handle at him. Granted, it’s hard not to keep from exploding when you’re around the guy, but still… You’re usually a fairly calm pony.”

“It’s nothing I want to talk about, okay?” Target grumbled, shooting Henri a look warning her not to press. Henri ignored it, her curiosity getting the better of her. She honestly didn’t know how or why, but she saw something of herself in the pony. Anger, grief, and they didn’t know quite who to direct it towards.

“Alright, alright, I suppose you deserve to know…” Target muttered. “It was probably going to come out anyways, someone figuring it out or knowing my name and remembering it. You ever heard of Bittersweet Springs?”

Henri wracked her brain trying to remember, but came up with very little. The name floated around in the back of her mind, but it never registered.

“It was about ten or eleven years ago, so you probably don’t remember. This was during when Equestria was still a mess, before the NCR. Lawless, nobody to keep order except for perhaps a brave few in the Rangers,” Target began. “Bittersweet Springs, it was a town. Emphasis on was, I might add. Small little town out west, near Appleloosa. It’s a ghost town now, like a lot of places out in that general area. Think it’s run by ghouls now, or at least ghosts who fail to rest…”

“What do you mean?” Henri inquired, scooting closer to Target.

The pony sighed, and took off her Stetson, putting it aside for the moment as she continued her story. “You ever heard of the scouring of Bittersweet? It was this big massacre, if you ask around in the right spots amongst Applejack’s Rangers, they’re probably going to tell you about it. But it’s not a pretty story,” Target warned. “Far from it, it’s about one of the ugliest moments in their history…”

“Wait, wait…” Henri said, suddenly remembering as her eyes widened in horror. “You don’t mean to imply…”

“Hardly implying anything. Yeah, I was there. I was Lieutenant Quartermane, back then. Large and in charge with power armor and battle saddle to boot. That whole situation was a real shit-show from start to finish and could easily have been avoided if we had just one good thing. That one good thing? Good intel, plain and simple. The major in charge at the time, to Hell with her, she made one helluva bad call - she thought Bitter Springs was full of Raiders and Slavers, so we surrounded the place with Rangers. By the time any of us realized there were civilians down there - mares and foals, by Celestia! - the shooting had already started. The major froze up at the news, and we couldn't get another word out of her. I… I took over and salvaged the situation as best I could. For my effort, I earned myself a promotion. Not quite the way I'd have wanted it. Mark of personal shame on my career. They called me a hero, the Rangers involved did. Made my great-great-great-great-oh, who the Hell knows how many greats granddad proud. Sure don’t feel like he’d be proud of me, if I was to be honest…” Target muttered in personal disgust with herself. “Quit and resigned from the Rangers soon after. Ditched the armor and the battle saddles, and picked up the sniper rifle instead. To this day, I still look at them in disgust. I know they’re not all like the ones who were involved in that massacre… But each time I look at one of those power armored ponies, I see the faces, and remember the names. Every last damn name, I never forgot. Never forgot who I was a part of slaughtering like I was a fox in a hen-house. The Scourge of Bittersweet Springs, that’s what I should be known as. Not Target Quartermane, heroine and salvager of Bittersweet Springs...”

Henri tried to put a paw on her shoulder to reassure him, but Target was having none of it. “And don’t you try and tell me everything’s alright okay? I’d had enough of things like that for one lifetime…” she said, shaking her head and her voice hardened. “You know, over the years, I’ve tried so many times to justify my actions. Tried so hard. But there isn't. Isn't any justification for something like that. It was cold-blooded murder, plain and simple. That’s all it was.”

With that, Target leaped down from the tree, gripping End of the Line tightly in her hooves. She began trotting off up a path leading deeper into the island, towards its center.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Henri shouted.

“Scouting. Chances are, a good portion of the Enclave are asleep by this point, meaning if I’m quiet enough, I can do a little recon, and maybe, just maybe find out what they’re up to…”

“That being, if you somehow manage to avoid this island’s countless creatures,” Henri put in. “Going out alone, in this place, at night? You’ve gotta have a death wish or something.” she muttered and as Target walked off into the gloom silently, Henri’s eyes slowly widened in realization. She looked away in shame as a tear slowly slipped from her eye.

By pure chance, Target did manage to avoid running into anything and found herself at the edge of a ridge. Her eyes widened as she saw it. One massive structure, made of metal and pointed skywards. An anti-air cannon, spotlights surrounding the whole structure lightning it up. On various catwalks around the cannon itself, Enclave soldiers patrolled the area, Novasurge rifles or Star Blasters in hoof. Her eyes widened, she didn’t realize -the Enclave as technologically advanced as they were- that any of those weapons were still in existence outside of a rare few. Only ones she still knew about were in the NCR’s possession, after Calamity had raided an ammo dump back in the day. The thing about this particular weapon was, it could eat through even the strongest of shield spells, even those granted by Alicorns. What was left was nothing but a pile of ash, the target completely vaporized. If they weren’t vaporized by some small amount of luck, you were likely to be killed anyways by the sheer force of the blast.

“Wonderful…” Target muttered. What little she -Or anypony else for that matter- did know about the Star Blaster, aside from its destructive capability, was that it was theorized to come from beyond the stars. Some said, and Target took this with more than a grain of salt, that it had come from a highly advanced alien species even more advanced than Equestria was prior to the Last Day. “Guess they must think the weapon’s a gift from their God or something.” she thought to herself in disgust.

Target then hunkered down and pulled out a spotter’s scope to get a better view of what exactly was going on down there.

She observed a pegasus, clad in more elaborate armor than the rest, walk out of the base of the anti-air cannon and began berating another of the troops. He took off his helmet as he turned to a mare, revealing his facial features. He was an older stallion, with a white mane and matching beard. Target shuddered. Somewhat frighteningly, he bore a slight resemblance to Iron Skies, if not a few decades older. Almost old enough to be his… No, it couldn’t be.

“I give you a simple direction. Capture, not shoot.” the pegasus remarked angrily. “I distinctly remember saying stop those intruders, not order your men to shoot the intruders. Stop, shoot. Do either of those words sound the same to you?” he asked in a low growling tone of voice, and the pegasus, quite quailed by the Captain’s words, shook her head nervously. “Anypony else? Yes, stop the intruders, not shoot the intruders, that’s what I distinctly remember saying. I’m very particular about my words, remember that? But alas, you tried to shoot the intruders ignoring my words entirely. Stop, shoot. Stop, shoot! For Celestia’s sake, it’s not hard to tell the difference!” the pegasus snarled, his wings flaring out as his tone rose in anger and rage. Then, he grabbed a Novasurge Rifle from one of his ponies and shot the pegasus dead. Target winced as the trooper went up in a fine orange mist, leaving no traces of her existence behind.

“Let that be a parable to you all!” the commander shouted as he looked at every one of his troops. “Disobey me, disobey the will of Celestia, and she’ll cut you down. Remember, I’m just a simple soldier, so I don’t have the luxury of forgiveness. Not my job.”

With that, he walked right back into the interior of the cannon in a rage leaving Target to wonder what the Hell was going on around here...

Part 12: Heartstrings Cove

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Part 13: "I scratch your back, and you scratch mine"

Mount Pleasant Island: Heartstrings Cove

“This… This is Twilight Sparkle, Ministry Mare and Princess of Equestria! Can… Can anybody hear me?”

The message rang loud and clear, like a bell through the misty harbors of Heartstrings Cove catching all by a quite understandable surprise.

“I repeat, this is Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship and Ministry Mare. Is anyone out there?” the voice of the long thought deceased Alicorn asked, seemingly in desperation. “I send this message in hopes of anybody who might receive it. If you’re listening, please send me some sort of sign!”

“Can we transmit back?” Target asked, End of the Line hoisted over her shoulders. The white wolf painted on its side was clearly visible.

“The question is, should we?” Henri pointed out. “Remember, this is Twilight Sparkle, one of the six mares who, if I might remind all of you, helped and fucked up our world beyond recognition. And she got absorbed into the Goddess… Hell, she helped create her!”

“By accident, remember?” Riptalon pointed out. “And if that really is Twilight Sparkle, we’d need all the allies we can get, as we’re stuck here until further notice with the Enclave. So is she actually, for all we know. She needs our help, and we need hers. I scratch your back, and you scratch mine type situation, right?”

“Ugh… I see your point…” Henri muttered, weighing over the pros and cons of this situation. On one hand, they had Twilight Sparkle, who was a definite danger if crossed. She had the knowledge to create either your best friend, or your worst nightmare. She also had plenty of power as well. Plus, they had the Enclave who also fell under the same banner of highly dangerous albeit for different reasons, namely fanaticism and extremely powerful technology and probably more knowledge of the terrain than they did. On the other hand, they had Twilight Sparkle, who, if they allied themselves with her, could grant them a good solid trump card in the battle to retake the Island, and the fight against Winter Breeze’s Enclave in general. Twilight also, depending on how long she’d been on this island, might have had the same knowledge of Mount Pleasant’s landscape.

“Now…” Target began as she spotted a nearby building, one of the few that had been mostly left unscarred. On the side, in big letters read: “Mount Pleasant Island Communications Center”. “My bet is, if we go in there, we can get a message out to Ms. Sparkle and let her know she’s not alone,” she explained, as she set up End of the Line and peered through its scope. “I’ll be keeping watch from here, serve as a look-out and if any Enclave troops come up the road… Well, you’ll be hearing a lot of shooting and a lot of screaming. Hopefully from them.”

“Okay then…” Henri said. “Midnight, Iron, you go into that Comms Center and get the message out. Me, I’ll stay here and keep an eye or two on our beloved Riptalon here, eh?”

“So nice to be trusted… And after all I’ve done for you. You’re a pack of real ungrateful bastards, you know that right?” Riptalon drawled out but was ignored of course.

“Just shut up and help me keep an eye out for the Enclave, okay?” Henri asked in a particularly annoyed tone of voice. If Riptalon had been a smarter griffon, he might have picked up on the way she said it. Her tone basically said for him to watch his mouth. But of course, Riptalon wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.

“So, you’re trusting moi of all griffons?” the ‘Blackhawk’ asked in a tone of mock-surprise before he deadpanned. “You do realize I’m someone who you probably shouldn’t have your back turned to, considering my track record and all...”

“Who says I’ll have my back to you?” Henri snarked back as she pressed either White Rose or Black Rose up against Riptalon’s rear. “It’s more like you’ll have your back to mine, and if you try anything, it’ll be a back that has a bullet or two in it. Shame, it’s a really nice ass I’d love a piece of… That is, if I was into backstabbing vermin.” she teased.

“Hmm, keep that flirting up, and maybe you’ll get some of it…” Riptalon remarked cheekily, as if all was right with the world and he didn’t have a pistol ready to put a cap in his ass.

“Yeah… Think somepony else has already staked that claim.” Henri retorted. Notably, she didn’t say if it was somepony interested in her, or somepony interested in Riptalon. The griffon in question simply rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, Midnight and Iron made their way to the comms tower. Every so often, Iron picked up ammo for his rifle. It may have been given golden paint in some areas and wooden fittings for a steampunk style aestheticism, along with being equipped with a scope, but it was the same general style of semi-automatic hunting rifle the Enclave’s newest recruits had used.

An M16, to be exact. Bit dated as it was over 200 years old in design, but it seemed some things never went out of fashion.

“So, what’s the story between you and ole Blackhawk over there? I mean, where’d he dig you up, ya old fossil?”

“You know, if you weren’t one of the only allies I had right now, I’d be putting a bullet clean through your head for that remark,” Iron said coldly, and from the sheer way he said it, Midnight shivered. He had no doubt that wasn’t any form of joke on Iron’s part. “I’m only about ten years older than you, dumbass. So, by your little whippersnapper standards of you being about early thirties, I would be an old fossil. But make no mistake, just because I’m a decade short of being shy of middle age means I can’t pull my weight around here. Just ask those Enclave soldiers scattered about,”

Midnight swallowed as he saw the results of Iron’s sharpshooting. A recruit lay dead, a hole going clean through his skull. “...I… I see your point. But still, where in Celestia’s name did he find you?”

“Old Appleloosa, nothing more I need to say on the matter, as if I did, you’d probably trust me even less,” Iron replied.

“You putting it like that is already starting to make me lose more of my trust in you,” Midnight remarked and sighed as he looked at his semi-auto buckshot and it’s empty magazine. He really hated custom weapons at times. Could be real hard to replenish ammo for them if you had one on hand.

“For the record, no matter what Riptalon may have done to earn your ire, I’m not trying to do that,” Iron continued.

“Yeah, but you’re managing to do that in other ways, like being a general dick,” Midnight replied as he pushed the Comms Center’s front door open. “Plus, don’t think I didn’t hear about you throwing those dead bodies to the Radigators back when we were en route to Neigh Orleans,” he continued.

“They were starting to stink up the place, and so they had to go. Simple fact of the matter,” Iron said, as he scanned the area around him with Vox Populi, his Pipbuck’s inbuilt flashlight lit up.

“They had faces and names, you know that right? Or has that not crossed your mind at any point?” Midnight growled out.

“Maybe to you, but not to me. To me, they were just dead bodies who were an unnecessary load at the time,” Iron replied simply, still in the stone cold tone of voice. “They were dead, and that was the end of it. If you’re trying to be my morality pet, don’t. It’s not going to work with me, as I do what I want, and I do it how I want to.”

Midnight snarled, having finally had enough of Iron and shoved him up against a well. At the same time, he’d managed to grab Iron’s borrowed Peacemaker from under the pegasus’s nose and was pointing the barrel right at him.

“Listen, I’m not trying to be your morality pet or whatever the Hell that is, I’m just sick and tired of your bullshit okay?”

The cock of the pistol was heard, and one wrong word by Iron would result in a hole through his skull.

“And I’m sick and tired of your holier than thou attitude, and Henri’s, and Target’s for that matter,” Iron growled, completely calm even with his own pistol turned against him. “Ask yourself, would you really want to kill one of the few ways you have of getting off this island alive?”

Midnight shuddered as he took a step back, that ask yourself line sounded almost exactly like something Winter Breeze might say. He’d been getting suspicions that Iron wasn’t all he claimed to be, and that particular phrase -Which seemed to be a favorite of Winter’s- only increased them.

“I should shoot you here and now...” Midnight snarled.

“But you’re not going to, are you mate?” Iron said as Midnight released him from his grip. He smirked when the earth pony dropped his pistol. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Now, we have a Ministry Mare to talk to.”

“No, not just yet… Maybe you’re right, maybe you don’t need a morality pet. At least… Maybe you think you don’t. But remember what happened the beach, when we found the conductor’s hat?” Midnight asked. And although the darkness prevented him (Midnight) from seeing it fully, Iron’s eyes widened visibly. He did indeed remember.

“I… I never asked for their names, either of them you know? The conductor, nor the engineer.”

She then turned to the rest of her squad. “Did any of you?”

The silence said it all.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

“That she died like a hero, doing her duty. Nothing more, nothing less.” Riptalon answered quietly, though at once he knew that was the wrong thing to say and regretted it at once.

“...Well, at least that way you’d be honest about her death!” Iron growled.

“Yeah, but in some cases, a lie would be better than the truth. And this is one of those times…” Riptalon trailed off, and he said no more on the subject, collecting his belongings in silence.

And Iron said nothing more as they moved forwards.

Back outside, Henri and company were getting treated to a special visit from… well, guess who.

“Sprite-bot!” Target shouted, as sure enough, one flew up.

“As a young colt, I had a pet named Bill. Like all pets, Bill was a loyal friend. If we had not fed him, Bill would still have been loyal. If we had struck him, Bill would have been loyal. He’s like a member of the Enclave in that regard, my Enclave. Loyal no matter what you do to them. Only when the Wastelanders can start to make that claim, can they join us in society,” Stormy Skies began to preach.

“Oh yeah, we’d be loyal alright… To someone who’s not genocidal to anypony who’s not pure, cleansed in the waters of paradise’s baptism… AKA only those who are your little lackeys.” Riptalon snapped, and suddenly the Sprite-bot got in his face.

“And what would you know about being loyal hmm Blackhawk?” Stormy asked, and with horror, Riptalon realized. And Stormy knew it. “Yes, I’m watching you. I’ve been watching you ever since you set foot on my island. I’m terribly sorry about the poor greeting you’ve been getting so far. Cleared out my social calendar just for you, as soon as I heard from one of my little birdies -Winter Breeze isn’t the only one with spies on the ground after all- that you were a’comin. Gotta prep for the storm, after all. Trust me, you have no room to talk about being loyal, considering half of what I’ve heard. The backstabber, the long-tongued liar. How does that song go? Oh yes… Now I remember.

“Well my goodness gracious let me tell you the news
My head's been wet with Luna’s dew
I've been down on bended knee talkin' to the mare from Galilee

“She spoke to me in the voice so sweet
I thought I heard the shuffle of the angel's hooves
She called my name and my heart stood still
When she said, “Stormy, go do My will!”

“Go tell that long tongue liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler,
The gambler,
The back biter
Tell 'em that Celestia’s gonna cut 'em down…” he sang mockingly. “That’s what’s going to happen to you if you don’t follow her will. You’ll just end up ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

“You’re completely nuts, you know that right?” Henri deadpanned. “Bet you all the caps I own when someone writes your biography, they’ll spend the damn first 30 or so pages quoting scripture! Regurgitating it, really…”

“Have to agree with Henri here really, much as I hate it,” Riptalon agreed. “You’ve spent so much time in that bull, you’re starting to believe your own shit even as you spew it out!”

“Well, when the Lady Celestia gave us Heaven in the form of Cloudsdale, who were we to disagree with her? She gave us the tools, the tools of the emancipator to build us a new heaven,” Stormy continued to preach, proving Riptalon and Henri’s points exactly. Still, he continued. But when the striped devils came, they brought war with them, and the fields of the Hell below us were soaked with the blood of brothers. The blood of our pegasi brothers! The only emancipation they had to offer was death. Nothing else but death, and her welcoming arms. But no more, I aim to cleanse the Wastes of those impurities, along with anybody else who dares stand in our way!”

“You just going to keep talking the same old story, or is there anything new for you to offer us?” Henri asked sarcastically.

“So, I’ll do you a favor. There’s a Dust Devil waiting for you at where you first landed. Take it, and your company and leave this island in peace and just let us have Twilight Sparkle and the gifts she’s so kindly offered us for free. Our newest emancipation tools, if you will.You shall not be bothered by any of my men, unless you bother us. Are we clear? I scratch your back, and you scratch mine, understand?”

“Tempting…” Henri trailed off, before she shot the Sprite-Bot and turned to the hills where she knew a spy had to be watching. “But no dice! But thanks for the offer, I’ll think about stealing your Dust Devil anyways. Pilot will be dead though, so sorry in advance for that!”

“Well, now you’ve really done it,” Target remarked. “They’ll be after us now in full force. Not just to capture us, as Stormy wanted before, but to kill. You basically just dared them to come and hit us with everything they have,”

“Yeah, suppose I did,” Henri muttered. “But there’s still something that bothers me about this whole scenario, and makes me think that Stormy won’t send a kill team… At least, not yet,”

“Yeah, yet,” Riptalon deadpanned. Ignored, of course.

“So what makes you figure that? Ranger instincts, much as I hate relying on them, are telling us to find a position and make a stand.” Target replied.

“Why would Stormy specifically want us captured?” Henri asked. “Why us? Because if this was any other scenario, we’d be dead already. Sure, his troops may be out to get us and ignoring orders, but Stormy wants us alive for some reason. He mentioned Twilight had ‘offered’ him and his men some brand of gifts. That, and added to the fact that he knows she’s alive leads me to believe that he wants us to talk to her. As obviously, him being a member of the Enclave would not open up any diplomatic doors between them,” she remarked.

“There’s a more obvious suspect,” Target put in. “And it’s one who’s been with us all along. Iron Skies. You know it, I know it, Riptalon knows it. He’s a former Enclave soldier, for all we know Stormy knows this and just wants his man back and once he has him, then he’ll kill us,”

“If that were it, he’d have ordered his men to kill all of us but Iron or whatever his real name may be,” Henri reasoned. “No, I’m going with my gut on this and saying that whatever Twilight Sparkle has to do with this, she’s the main reason Stormy hasn’t come to kill us himself…”

Heartstrings Cove: Communications Center:

Back with Midnight and Iron, the two had made it to the radio room. Midnight was keeping his guard up around Iron, watching his every move.

Iron, to Midnight’s shock, then unholstered his pistol and tossed it to him.

“You do realize I have a very good shot at your head, and now I could very well take that shot right?” Midnight asked in surprise, an eyebrow raised skeptically.

“So do it if you wish,” Iron replied. “But perhaps there’s need of folks like you.”

“And that’s because…?” Midnight trailed off.

“Cause of folks like me I guess. The ones who would send a soldier to his death without a second thought, without a care. Not even bothering with learning the faces and the names,” Iron explained in a weary tone of voice as he sat down on a chair. “Guess you had every right to be angry with me, for dropping those soldiers and feeding them to the Radigators and not giving them a proper burial. You were right, they did mean something to somepony. Everypony does I guess...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Back up. That line about you sending soldiers to their deaths, not even caring, sounds like you’ve done it all before.” Midnight trailed off, this time his eyes visibly widening.

“Who’s to say I haven’t?” Iron asked. “I’m a former soldier of the Enclave, probably one of Stormy Skies’ men I’m willing to bet you so it’s a probability,”

“And what makes you so sure about that?” Midnight asked. “The part about you being a former soldier for the Grand Edginess Enclave, I mean?”

“Hard not to figure that out when you’ve been getting flashbacks that all but outright say it, that I was a former soldier under Stormy Skies, or at least a former Enclave soldier. Still not sure on what I did there, aside from training troops on how to fire a Novasurge Rifle and spending half of my life away, if this Buttercream character’s to be believed, in bars drinking my life away.”

“About how long have you been having these… flashbacks to this other life of yours?” Midnight dared to ask, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“About shortly before Riptalon found me in Old Appleloosa,” Iron said. “Now, I should probably be asking you a question. Fair’s fair, right? What’s your beef with Riptalon?”

“Aside from his chronic backstabbing disorder, and him being a general jackass?” Midnight deadpanned and Iron laughed a little at that.

“Besides that, I mean.”

And so Midnight explained his story.

...Grabbing his weapon, Midnight rushed outside to see what was going on. And she found herself in the middle of a particularly intense firefight. And in the middle of it was Riptalon himself, dodging and weaving through the shots laid down by the NCR troopers and slicing them in the throats and letting their lifeless husks drop dead in the street.

Right now, as Midnight watched in shock at the blood frenzy in the streets, -forgetting for the moment at least, that he had a gun himself- he would lay odds that Riptalon never needed to pick up a gun as he never found himself needing one for any sort of situation.

“Ah, that would do it wouldn’t it?”

“Those were my friends, blood brothers I fought alongside in the war between the Wastelanders and Red-Eye! And he… he just slaughtered them like that.” Midnight whispered, his voice beginning to break. “Now don’t you see? Why nobody in the NCR trusts him? Why… Why we always have one eye watching him? To… To… see who he tries to kill next?” the pony asked, tears falling from his eyes. “He’s a psychopath, through and through. And that’s the end of it. Eventually…” the stallion choked out. “Eventually he’ll stab you in the back and leave you bleeding out, just another broken and used toy. Do you trust him?”

“N-no,” Iron said a little too quickly for Midnight’s liking.

“Then I’d suggest you stop trusting him. That’s what psychopaths like him do, they worm their way into your heart and then stick a knife through it just when you think you’re completely fine. If I was you, I’d be watching your griffon friend a hell of a lot more closely than you are right now,” Midnight snarled out in warning before his tone became a little softer. “Now, we’ve got a message to send out to a former Ministry Mare, and without power to this place, it ain’t going to be sent. So… Shall we?”

“Agreed,” Iron said gruffly. “You go and find the power switch to this place. I’ll keep an eye out for any unwanted visitors.”

As Midnight left, Iron found himself -On account of having very little rest or relaxation since he set hoof on this island- drawn into another flashback.

He didn’t know when it was, or where aside from Cloudsdale but he found himself leading a squadron of troops through the streets. An execution squad.

“Gentleponies, before we get started, I’m the only authority you’ll ever need. Now, you lot… You all know our mission. Got some… dissenters who’d rather return to the Wastes below as they feel life’s better down there than up here in our little slice of paradise. Our little Garden of Eden in what’s otherwise Hell all around us,” Nimbus lectured. “Our job, teach them it is not to disobey the will of the Enclave. We are Celestia’s chosen, the only pure faction left in the Wasteland! We do not tolerate those who think otherwise. After Rainbow Dash, after Scootaloo! They were examples of what happens when things go wrong, those who would carefully upset the balance we created.”

Iron could only watch in horror as he saw through his past self’s set of eyes what could only be described as a massacre. Ponies, dragged out of their houses and fired at with Novasurge rifles and turned to nothing but ash. Ashes beneath his hooves that fell through the cloud cover below and became nothing but dust in the wind. Iron didn’t know if his past self was acting out of falsely given information or these actually were dissenters from the Enclave’s rule, but he knew, he knew right then and there what he was seeing was nothing but pure fanaticism. Fanaticism, and a twisted sense of loyalty to a country that decided who got to live, and who got to die. That was the cold hard truth of the Enclave. You decided to become a Dashite, and you earned yourself a death sentence.

Looking at the pile of ashes in front of him, Iron’s eyes widened in horror as his past self then spoke into a radio. “It’s done… Commander Stormy. Scootaloo’s great-grandchildren are dead.”

“Good. You’re a damn good soldier Nimbus. Damn good. I may just strike up a friendship with you yet. After all, isn’t that what they said in the old days? Friendship is Magic?”

Nimbus-No, Iron Skies as he couldn’t find himself to go by the name of Nimbus after this- found himself releasing his stomach contents to the floor below. And that was how Midnight found him as the power returned.

“You… You alright?” he asked, as he hurried over. “What… What happened?”

“Another… Another flashback.” Iron said as he took a deep shuddering breath.

“What… What did you see?”

Then, Midnight found himself with a very ugly glare pointed in his direction.

“I...I will tell you this,” Iron whispered in a tone that anybody could tell was pure self-disgust. “We were both right. I need a morality pet like you said, and me… Well, I was right about having need of folks like you.”

With that, he spoke into the microphone in front of him, and in one tone of pure rage, directed towards Stormy Skies and his perversion of the term he said this to Twilight Sparkle: “Friendship is Magic.”

Author's Note

So, ringing in the new year with a real whammy of a chapter! Anyways, if you absolutely despise Iron after this chapter, can't say I blame you really. But... Keep this in mind, with these flashbacks you're never getting the full story. Just snippets, so there's still more of his life in Cloudsdale and what he exactly did to be told...

Thanks to Kyler Adams for editing this chapter as always, he's awesome. Also, huge thanks to both Scarletsfeed and Rainbowsurvivor for these pieces...

https://scarletsfeed.deviantart.com/art/Iron-Skies-Commission-722072861

As always, comments and thoughts on the chapter are appreciated.

Part 14: The Shadows of Mount Pleasant Island

Ponyville:

Starglow Starhoof smiled as she strolled through the streets of Ponyville, her mother by her side. It was another one of those days, just a peaceful one. Birds were singing, and the locals in the marketplace were haggling over their wares as usual.

Starglow chuckled as she saw a familiar sight, a brilliantly azure blue mare with an almost cornflower blue mane -With small streaks of gray beginning to run through it as she reached middle age- arguing with one of the local flower ponies, Roseluck if she remembered correctly. Now, most ponies Starglow’s age probably wouldn’t even know the names of all these colors, but her mom (Well, one of them anyways) insisted on making her filly as smart as she could. Must have gotten it from her teacher.

“I’m sorry, fifty bits for one bushel of dahlias?” the azure mare, with a purple cloak held together by a gem clasp (The cloak itself decked out in yellow and pale blue stars) “Trixie says that’s robbery! Robbery, plain and simple!” she snapped out.

“Well, that’s the price Trixie, dahlias are very hard to grow this time of year, and you know that,” Roseluck said simply. She was an earth pony mare, with a white coat and a raspberry mane. “Now you can take it or leave it. And that’s that. Final offer.”

Trixie grumbled something rude under her breath, something sounding suspiciously like ponies she’d like to turn into flowers, and then present them as gifts to her wife.

“Fine… Fine,” Trixie finally relented, fishing some bits out from her saddlebags sat nearby. Starglow had to smile when she saw what the saddlebags had been decorated with, a cutie mark. But not just any mark, it was an exact copy of her mother’s own. A purple star with two streams coming from behind it. “There, you happy? Trixie’s doing this for love, and you’re making me pay good bits for it!”

Roseluck sighed. “I’m sorry Trixie, and I’m making this quite clear to you, I’m not having this price be like this because I don’t like you. It’s just that…”

“Yeah, yeah… Dahlias are hard to grow this time of year, you said that already.” Trixie grumbled to herself as she was handed the flowers.

Starglow looked at her mother, a pale pink mare with a purple mane with aquamarine highlights, who was shaking her head in embarrassment.

“I swear…” her mother said to herself, rubbing her temples with a hoof. “I think Trixie needs to become Twilight’s personal student as well… Could do with a few lessons on being less obnoxious at times…”

“And this is totally not related to you wanting to spend more time with moi, riiiighht?” Trixie asked as she walked up to my mom and hoofed over the flowers.

Starglow’s mom laughed nervously, and rubbed the back of her head with a hoof even as she levitated the flowers into her saddlebags. “Well... It could be that...”

Starglow’s other mom smirked. “Yeah, Trixie thought so. But, let’s face it, if I had to spend time with Twilight in her friendship lessons, I’d go crazy just because we would barely ever get the time to-”

There was a coughing sound from Trixie’s wife, and she flushed red. “Oh, right… Filly in the room…” the showmare muttered before she decided it was probably best to change subjects. Starglow, meanwhile was tilting her head in confusion. Why had her mom decided to reprimand Trixie? Far as she could see, she hadn’t said any of what were referred to as ‘bad words’.

“So kiddo, how was school?” Trixie asked. “Did you ‘dazzle’ them with your show and tell?”

“Well…” Starglow admitted, and showed she shared her mom’s trait of rubbing the back of her head with a hoof when she got flustered. “I… I think the birds may have escaped. Wanted freedom, rather than to be pulled out of a hat....”

Starglow smiled as Trixie ruffled her dark blue mane. “Ah well, first steps kid. First steps. Even when I was your age, and I’m not making this up here, I didn’t get off to quite such a good start with my tricks. Couldn’t even do the which card am I holding bit, can you believe it?”

“Seriously?” her daughter asked. “But that’s.... That’s like the most simplest of tricks from what you told me!”

“Well… Trixie wasn’t as talented with magic as she’d like everypony to believe at a young age. I was what my wife, or that friend of hers in the Crystal Empire, would call a late-bloomer.”

“Hey, you got there in the end, that’s the thing isn’t it Trix?” Starglow’s mom asked.

“True…” Trixie admitted as she kissed her on the cheek. “And now look at Trixie, she’s a showmare known nationwide, from sea to shining sea! She dazzles ponies with her tricks everywhere she goes!”

Starglow smiled as she and her moms walked through the streets of Ponyville. As they did so, ponies waved at them. She recognized some of the faces and the names. That strange brown stallion with the sticky-uppy hair and the hourglass for a Cutie Mark who liked to be referred to as the Doctor. As usual, he was accompanied by his wife Ditzy Doo and their two children, Derby Hooves and Dinky Doo. Then there was the mare who was almost always selling various sodas. She was an odd one, and a close friend (Well, more than close friend depending on who you asked) of Twilight’s. Mulberry in coat color, with a crimson red mohawk for a mane, she was supposedly this evil pony who led an army into Canterlot some years back, but Starglow never put much stock into those stories. Seriously, Fizzlepop was far too nice to have done those things!

“Trixie!” Fizzlepop said. “Enjoying the day?”

“Yeah, though Trixie must admit the sun could be a little less... “

“Hot?” Fizzle asked. “Yeah, I’ll ask around and see if I can get Cloudchaser and the rest off their flanks to see if they can get us a rainstorm, later on, to cool us all off, okay?”

“Being the personal student of the Princess of Friendship pays dividends, doesn’t it?” Starglow’s other mom said, sharing a smirk with Fizzlepop.

“Yeah, suppose it does…” she replied, before turning back to Trixie. “In the meantime, here take this. Might help stave off some of the heat,” she said before handing Trixie a can of soda. The showmare, with a grateful smile, popped the top off the can as she and her family continued their walk.

Soon, Starglow and her moms were at the local park. Trixie, along with her wife watched their child practice her magic by starting off simple, and trying to make a flower in a pot grow. Nearby, auntie Scootaloo and her wife Sweetie Belle laughed -But only a little- as their son Candy Drops hid behind a tree, blushing as he looked at Starglow. He was a unicorn, pale white in color, but with a shortly cropped mane that shared his aunt Holiday’s burnt orange hue.

“Go on,” the orange mare with a purple tomboyish mane said as she nudged her son forwards. “You can go and talk to her, she won’t bite.”

Sure enough, the white unicorn slowly walked forwards towards Starglow and with a nervous expression on his muzzle, he sat down beside her.

“Is… Is it okay if I practice my magic… W-With you I mean?”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds kinda cool, actually.” Starglow said, and if possible, Candy Drops flushed even redder.

“You know, t-there’s this shower of shooting stars tonight, and I-I wanted to know if you wanted to come along with me to see it. Just as friends of course, j-just friends. Yeah… that’s right!”

Nearby, both sets of parents shared looks and wistful smiles unbeknownst to the two young unicorns.

“Yeah, I heard about that. Zecora’s supposed to be telling us what the stars mean, and telling us the stories of her clan, right?” Starglow asked, and Candy nodded.

“Bit weird she is, but she’s nice. From what Auntie Apple Bloom told me, she wouldn’t have gotten her mastery in potion-making without her!” Candy exclaimed.

“Really?” Starglow asked.

“Yeah, least that’s what she told me. Don’t see why she would have any reason to lie…” Candy replied. “Besides, you know her sister. She really hates lying in all forms, so I really don’t think growing up around her, Apple Bloom would have picked up a habit of lying… Even small little white ones.”

Starglow chuckled. “True, I guess.”

Nearby, Trixie smiled as she leaned into her wife’s shoulder and nuzzled her.

“Aw, our little girl’s growing up… Just yesterday it seemed we were changing her diapers, right Starlight?”

“Yeah, I suppose…” Starlight admitted with a small sniffle. It didn’t escape Trixie’s notice.

“Aw, are you longing for those days…?” she cooed, in a teasing tone of voice.

“Well, not the waking up in the middle of the night to change her, or feed her a bottle of breast milk… No, not that.” Starlight said, but there was a trace of wistfulness in her tone. Trixie noticed this as well.

“But…?” Trixie trailed off.

“I admit, I do miss the sound of the pitter-patter of little hooves around the household…” Starlight sighed.

“Well, we can always fix that, can’t we?” Trixie whispered into her wife’s ear seductively, and licking her neck as well. Starlight flushed as red as a tomato.

“Yes… Yes, I think we can do that at some point…” Starlight stuttered out. “Maybe later tonight, we can work on ‘fixing’ the lack of those little hooves hmm?”

“Oh, Trixie cannot, and she repeats, cannot wait for that!” she purred out as she wrapped her forelegs around her wife and began nibbling at her neck in a teasing fashion. “That is one of the best parts, is it not? Failure or success, it’s always soooooo fun…”

“T-Trixie, we’re in public!” Starlight hissed out.

“Oh, always such a prude,” Trixie remarked with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Been spending way too much time around Twilight, you’re about as tightly wound as her half the time!”

“You’re a bad influence.” Starlight mumbled.

“But you know you love me for it, right?” Trixie teased.

“True…” Starlight admitted.

“Ah, so there’s still some of that bad girl left in you,” Trixie laughed. “Good, I was getting worried. I was beginning to think Twilight’s goody two hoovesness had sucked it all out of you like a vacuum!”

“Hoovesness?” Starlight asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not a word, and you know it!”

“It is so a word, and I shall swear by it!” Trixie exclaimed in mock-offense. “Now, what are you thinking? Filly or colt, hmm? Which sounds better?”

“Personally, I like the surprise…” Starlight admitted.

“Okay, Trixie will admit she likes to be surprised as well,” the showmare sighed to herself. “But, one must ask these questions anyways. After all, I’d bet Starglow would love a little sister. Twinkling Gleam, I think would be her name if Trixie had her way.

“Bit early to be deciding names, isn’t it? Baby’s not even made yet…” Starlight drawled. “Besides, bet our daughter would love a little brother just as she would love a little sister!”

Nearby, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were laughing their heads off at the pair.

“Still haven’t changed much, have they?” Sweetie Belle asked, smiling a little as she watched her son, along with Starglow practice levitating objects in a nearby sandpit. “Still, even approaching middle age, they act like they did when they were thirty and newly married!”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that, right?” Scootaloo asked. “Some things may change, but it is a small comfort to know, at least in my mind, that others will always stay the same. I mean, look at our son and his crush. They’re acting like we did when we were their age. History repeats, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess it does…” Sweetie Belle trailed off and smiled as she hummed part of an old song as a bluebird landed on her hoof and started to sing along with it. Yep, for the most part in Starglow’s life, all was well. But it wasn’t scheduled to last.

“Automatic Emergency Simulation Shutdown In Effect.” a voice that Starglow swore she recognized from somewhere, but didn’t remember exactly who it was, echoed throughout the playground. The whole area began to be enveloped in a white fog. As Starglow looked to her left, she was surprised to see Candy Drops had just… vanished.

“Candy… Candy?” Starglow shouted in fear as she reached for a colt who was simply no longer there. “Where’d you go? No… No, you can’t leave me! We were supposed to go see the shooting stars tonight, listen to Zecora narrate her stories!”

She looked beyond her, and saw the white fog taking over Ponyville, and saw familiar places that she knew like Sugarcube Corner, Twilight’s Castle and the Carousel Boutique began to vanish. Beyond that, Sweet Apple Acres began to vanish in the fog as well. Tree by tree, grove by grove. Even the old clubhouse where she and the newest generation of the Cutie Mark Crusaders began to vanish.

“No… No, what’s going on?” Starglow whispered. Then, she saw parts of the playground around began to disappear as well. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, along with the bench they were sitting on vanish. Pretty soon, it was just her and her moms in a pure white void.

“Simulation Shutdown In…”
Her eyes brimming with tears, Starglow rushed towards Starlight and Trixie. “W-What’s going on?” she asked, her voice quavering. “this scary voice said something about a simulation ending and… and now…”

She reached out to hold one of her moms closely, as if to keep them for vanishing as well, but she only found herself grasping at empty air.
“3…”
“2…”
“1.”

Mount Pleasant Island: Five Hours Earlier:

Upon hearing those very words, Twilight let out a sigh of relief. She was a far cry from her usual self as the ponies of two centuries ago knew her, to be sure. For one thing, her formly lavender coat was now a dark purple. It had been starting to lighten up over in more recent years, return to its usual shade but was still quite aways away from it being recognizable.

For another thing, and this was also fairly obvious to the rare few who had ever seen her, she was now at the size of her former mentor, towering over most ponies in stature. Along with that, came larger wings and a horn, protruding like a lance from her skull.

She also now sprouted two small fangs jutting out of her upper lip.

However, there were still some signs that this Alicorn was once the one ponies knew to be the Princess of Friendship. Her eyes were no longer glowing a terrifying golden hue. Instead, they were back in their usual violet shade.

Her dark sapphire-hued mane, it had regained its purple rose streaks as well.

“So, so, glad some ponies still remember that phrase…” She whispered sadly -With a trace of relief in her tone- through Iron and presumably the others’ Pipbucks before regaining her composure. “Now, we haven’t much time to waste.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Riptalon wasn’t lying when he said he saw an actual friggin’ bloody Alicorn in the mist…” Iron muttered to himself.

Behind him, Midnight muttered: “Really, that’s the first thing he thinks to say when he meets the Twilight Sparkle? Not hey, how you been, or how nice is it to know you fucked our world up beyond belief?”

“I can hear you, you know,” Twilight deadpanned. “I may not be there physically in the room with you, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t hear every word you say,”

Midnight’s slack-jawed expression, and then the one he made as he tried to form words to little to no success was a sight to behold indeed.

“But before we say anything else, I want to know who exactly I’m talking to.” Twilight stated firmly.

“Fair enough,” Iron admitted. “Can’t do business dealings without knowing who you’re getting into bed with for a shag, eh?”

Twilight harrumphed and Iron got the distinct feeling she was rolling her eyes at his -admittedly poor- joke.

“Alright, sorry,” Iron said. “Iron Skies, and Midnight Radiance of the New Canterlot Republic. We’re not alone. Outside rests Target Quartermane and Henrietta Firebright of the same group, along with a former friend of theirs in Riptalon Hawkwind,”

After a few minutes of radio silence, Twilight answered at last. “ That’s a good mix, perfect choices for what I need. Anyways, down to business. Like I said, we don’t have much time,” Twilight continued. “Been listening in on the Enclave’s little broadcasts, and there’s something on this island that they must not get their hooves on,”

“Well, hate to break it to you Princess,” Iron stated. “But the whole bloody island’s crawling right and left with soldiers of the Grand Edginess Enclave. (Iron could swear he heard Twilight suppress a snort at the nickname) Whatever it is they want, they’re probably going to find it soon enough. We just take a walk outside through the wilderness, and provided we don’t get slaughtered by Fred Bear or any of the other local wildlife, there’s the Novasurge Rifles and Star Blasters to worry about. Chances of us getting near whatever it is you want us to find, ‘bout slim to none.”

Iron then audibly groaned as he saw a considerably flustered Midnight with a certain type of magazine in his hands. Although somewhat faded, he could still make out what was on the cover. On it read the words “Playpony” with a mulberry-colored unicorn mare with a shockingly crimson mane on it, posed seductively and eyes half-lidded.

Various articles included: “Caged At My Command, Opening More Than Just Eyes” and “Complete And Total Surrender”.

Personally, he couldn’t see the appeal. “Seriously mate, could you have at least a little more decency and respect in front of a actual Princess?” Iron asked in disgust, as he noted where one of Midnight’s hooves was going.

“He’s insulting me wordlessly isn’t he?” Twilight’s voice crackled from over Iron’s Pipbuck.

“Well… I suppose you could say that,” Iron replied. “If you call trying to start jacking off to a centuries-dead mare in a magazine insulting!” he snapped, snippets of a headache beginning to form. Now he knew how Henri felt whenever she told them she was surrounded by idiots.

“Playpony?” Twilight asked in a deadpan voice.

“Yes, Playpony. Some broken horned mare on the cover.” Iron said, and Twilight sniffled for a moment.

“Fizzlepop…” she whispered softly, a trace of longing in her voice.

“I’m assuming she’s somepony you once knew? Close friend of yours, maybe more?” Iron inquired, not entirely sure how he’d gone from arguing with a former Princess to discussing her sex life over the radio.

“Yeah…” Twilight whispered. “She was… Okay, I’ll admit one of the many loves I did have over the course of my lifetime. And yes, you can call me a pony who got around over the course of my life, but to be fair… We were very, very close when I was helping her… reintegrate back into society after she dropped her name of Tempest Shadow after disbanding the forces of the Storm King,”

Iron suddenly remembered that buck back in Neigh Orleans, Calamity something or other talking about this Tempest Shadow mare, and how the armor of the NCR was based on her own custom built style.

“Just want to point out, you do realize we’re talking about this, I admit, stimulating subject of conversation over a public communications system?” Iron drawled and Twilight let out a small eep as soon she realized this. Iron swore he could hear both Riptalon and Henri’s laughter outside.

“Anyways…” a somewhat flustered Twilight continued, getting the course of conversation back on track. “Would it help if I said I knew exactly where you’re supposed to look, and can transmit the actual coordinates to your Pipbuck?” she asked.

“That would be nice yes, but why can’t you just tell us outright what we’re supposed to be looking for?” Iron asked.

“I… I can’t. Too many eyes and ears are watching me. Say the wrong thing, and the Enclave would know.”

“Know about what? Know about you?” Iron inquired, his voice rising in anger. “Cause, no offense Princess, I’d think you be able to handle a squad of Enclave troops with all of that power you have packed in that little horn of yours,”

“Handle them, yes. I would be able to deal with them,” Twilight replied. “But it’s what you’re exactly looking for that I can’t risk letting them get their hooves on, or even know about, to begin with,”

“Weapons? Pretty sure they’re one step ahead of you, as like I said before they do have Star Blasters. Chances are, they managed to find and raid whatever you’re trying to keep secret,” Iron replied.

“While yes, I admit, weapons are one thing in this particular location that they’re going to find, it’s the main body of research along with… something else, I can’t risk them getting their hooves on. It’s something far too precious to me, and I won’t let them have it,”

Iron growled. “Oh, should have figured it wasn’t altruism you were offering us. It was just selfishness, pure and simple,”

At this, Twilight’s voice rose in tone and she nearly shrieked at them. “Now you listen here and listen well Iron Skies! You have no room to judge me for my reasoning, especially not once you learn what exactly is in that vault that’s so precious to me! Yes, a vault, not a stable!”

“Well, if you’d just tell us what it is that you’ve got your damn feathers in a ruffle about, maybe I’d be more inclined to help!” Iron snapped in fury and frustration at the mare, tired of how purposefully vague she was being. “You scratch my back, and then maybe I’ll scratch yours, okay?”

“Alright… Alright…” Twilight whispered. “You’re right. While, for obvious reasons, I can’t still exactly say what it is you’re looking for, I can ask you this and it should give you a hint. You ever been tasked with delivering something precious to somepony?”

Iron thought back to the transmission he’d found in Old Appleloosa, along with the Lyra Heartstrings doll. He’d promised himself he would deliver those two things to any descendants of the pony he’d taken his name from. “Yes… Yes, I have...” he trailed off.

“Then what you’re doing is something like that. Except you’re not just delivering any regular package. You’re delivering me, in a sense. In a vault, not too far from here, there’s… Well, you’ll find out soon enough. Transmitting coordinates now,”

Sure enough, a beeping sound came from Iron’s Pipbuck. Not even a few miles from his current location, a set of coordinates popped up near the old Coast Guard outpost where he’d had his first clash with the Enclave.

“Now, if I was you, I’d get moving. There’s more than just the Enclave and the local wildlife you have to worry about on this island…” Twilight trailed off ominously…

“Yeah, like maybe you…” Iron thought to himself.

As soon as Twilight’s transmission ended, another type of transmission entirely came up and played through Iron’s Pipbuck. One that Iron wholeheartedly agreed with in full.

“We gotta get out of this place
If it's the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
Girl, there's a better life for me and you
Somewhere baby, somehow I know it.

“We gotta get out of this place
If it's the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
Girl, there's a better life for me and you...”

Iron then smiled as he saw an unopened bottle of whiskey laying nearby. Had to be at least two centuries old, by his guess. Must have aged quite well. ...And Celestia above knows he needed some of that stuff right now.

Soon, they emerged, Iron with a bottle in his hoof and several more in his saddlebags. The former Enclave soldier noted Midnight was staring right at him even as he drunk the whiskey bottle dry.

“What? Don’t judge me! I let you keep that porn mag in your saddlebags to jack off to at a later date, so I think I’m allowed to steal a bottle or two of centuries-old whiskey!” Iron snapped.

“...Has to be his time of month… Being awfully pissy.” Midnight muttered, not noting -Or if he did, not caring- about the glares that were sent his direction by Target and Henri respectively.

“Trooper, did I give you permission to bitch?” Iron remarked, having heard him as well. “See Henri, I’m beginning to get that surrounded by idiots feeling you get with the rest of us!” he shouted towards the griffon hen.

“Oh great, now there’s two grumpy people to boss me around…” Riptalon muttered and Henri smirked.

“Would you like some cheese to go with that whinging of yours?” Iron deadpanned and Henri cackled at that as she turned to Riptalon.

“Bet you really enjoy dominatrixes don’t you… Considering you always end up taking orders from somebody.” she teased.

“I’m… I’m not whining! I’m just voicing my complaints here!” Riptalon sputtered out. “Perfectly valid ones as well, considering now I’ve got two assholes to boss me about!”

“See, he does enjoy dominatrixes, doesn’t he?” Henri asked Iron, who smirked.

“Yeah, should have left him with that whore back in Neigh Orleans. Might have been one for all I knew, and he would have gotten a real thrill…Hell, I might have watched, for all I know, just to see him get his arse handed to him for once.”

“Great, now they’re teaming up on me…” Riptalon murmured, although it did sound an awful lot like a whine to everyone else.

“Compliment taken.” Henri and Iron said in unison.

“So, new coordinates to head to?” Target asked, as she leaped down from the comms tower onto a roof, and then to the ground.

“More like old ones, see?” Iron replied, as he showed her his Pipbuck.

“...Okay, why would Twilight send us back there?” Target wondered aloud. “Sure as Hell didn’t see anything that looked like the entrance to a vault when we were in the middle of a firefight with those Enclave soldiers…”

“Yeah, that you could see,” Iron replied. “See, that’s the point of a ‘hidden vault’, you’re not supposed to find it.” he continued, his tone becoming slow and somewhat condescending as if Target were a child.

“I know what a hidden vault means, thank you very much!” Target snapped as she hit him on the back of his head. “Not need to be rude about it, I’m a perfectly intelligent mare! I was just saying, didn’t take the time to notice anything out of place back there during that firefight as we… Well, we were trying very hard not to die, if you may remember!”

“Oh lovely,” Twilight’s voice said sarcastically -One could get the feeling she was probably rolling her eyes about then- from the speakers of a Sprite-Bot as it flew up. “So, this is who I’m entrusting to deliver my voice to that vault…”

She then muttered quietly to herself: “Celestia knows who’s inside it is going to need a familiar one to greet them…”

If anybody heard that last part, they didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh, Princess Twilight,” Midnight started, at least having the decency to use her title. “While you’re pointing us in the direction of some sort of storage vault, you wouldn’t know where to find any spare ammunition for our guns, would you? Kinda running low here…”

“Firstly, please don’t use my title. I hate ponies using the thing. Not a goddess here, nor worthy of even being called a Princess…” Twilight muttered quietly to herself. “And secondly… Do I look like an ammo bank to you?” she then snapped. Midnight yelped a little at her tone.

“Sorry, so sorry… It’s… It’s just I’m on edge right now. The Enclave on this island, what’s in that vault… And everything else going on right now…” Twilight whispered in apology.

“It’s alright Pr-Twilight, we’re all on edge right now,” Henri said kindly, quickly correcting herself. “Besides, if there’s a storage vault, that probably means there’s going to be something stored there. Ammo for guns included.”

“Well… It’s not that kind of storage vault really… Not an ammo drop. More like a place for top-secret stuff, the kind I wouldn’t want anybody with genocidal tendencies getting their greedy little hooves on,” Twilight explained. “Besides, Celestia knows you all have been leaving a ton of dead bodies in your wake, haven’t you? Just pick up a gun from one of them if you have to. Really, hanging onto specific weapons at all times, no matter how useful they are, is a moot point if you can’t restock your ammo for them. ”

“Point,” Midnight admitted, and tossed his custom shotgun aside, it hitting the ground with a clattering sound. He then made a groan of disgust as he picked up a fallen Enclave soldier’s Novasurge rifle. “Any port in a storm, I guess…” he muttered in distaste, the weapon feeling just… wrong in his hooves.

“Don’t suppose I have to tell you how to work that thing, do I?” Iron asked, again in a sarcastic tone. “Just point and shoot, like any other gun in the world,”

Midnight rolled his eyes.

“Flash cards, we really need to get you some flash cards,” he replied. “Might teach you the specifics of being polite.”

“Does it look like I actually give a damn about being polite? Oh, what a laugh, this coming from the pony who was tastelessly jacking off to a long-dead mare’s picture!” Iron replied, his tone completely deadpan. “Now, come on… We’ve got a job to do. Riptalon, you’re out in front. Shotgun at ready.”

“What, so I can be a meat shield in case we get shot at?”

“N-Yes!” Iron snapped at him. Henri leaned over to him.

“Sure this isn’t just because you want to check out his ass?”

“...Well, to be fair it is a very nice arse. One I can put a cap into if needed to shut him up.” Iron replied, both giving Henri her answer, and not giving it to her at the same time.

“You know I can hear you right?” Riptalon shouted as the party advanced.

“Oh, for the love of Celestia…” Twilight's voice sighed.

1 and a half hour earlier…

Iron sighed as his Pipbuck’s radio transmissions become nothing but static. What he’d give right now for at least some sort of a station. He had to admit, he missed the voices of Xiraia and Homage on their respective stations, even if whatever they had to deliver was almost ways grim news about the ongoing state of affairs.

Being here, on this island… this place, you lost track of time really. If he had a radio broadcast of one of the two right now, he’d at least know how much time had passed since the last big incident on the mainland.

He wondered, what was that mare named Scootaloo doing right now at this point in time? Going to war against Winter Breeze’s Enclave perhaps? Maybe she was fighting against Raiders or just wandering the lands around her going on a explore.

Suddenly, his Pipbuck beeped a few times and he looked up to find himself in a familiar area. He remembered this place, a ramshackle satire of a coast guard shack where he and the rest of his party had staged a firefight against the Enclave soldiers that had been sent to ‘welcome’ them to the Island.

He smirked as he spotted the assault rifle he’d used to help fend them off. His smirk only increased when he inspected it, and found it still had some ammo left in its magazine.

“Okay Twilight, we’re here,” Iron said. “So where’s this secret vault of you…” his voice trailed off as his Pipbuck flashed, and a message on the screen indicated that new information about the area had been added to it.

The area was now known as “Somnambula’s Light”, instead of just being designated “Mount Pleasant Coast Guard Station”.

“Well, least it makes the location more interesting in some small way…” Iron mused to himself.

“Okay… Interesting name,” Henri mused. “...But I gotta ask, who the Hell is this Somnambula?”

“Somnambula was one of the pillars of old Equestria, and one of the ponies who was partially responsible for creating the Elements of Harmony. She represented Hope in her time, which would later become the Element of Laughter.” Twilight explained. At the words Element of Laughter, she became much more somber. Those who had read the Book of Littlepip knew why.

“...Right, so we’re venturing into something created by the Ministry of Morale. Lovely…” Henri drawled.

“Not exactly, this wasn’t Pinkie’s idea, nor any Ministry’s actually. This was something thought up by my own student, Starlight Glimmer,” Twilight continued to explain as Target accidentally tripped over a little rock, and then there came a clicking sound. Iron could almost see Twilight smirking. “Ah, perfect.”

A stone wall moved to the side, like something you would see out of one of the old Daring Do adventure novels back in the day if any comparison was to be made and revealed a long, dark corridor leading down into a cavern.

“Well, have to say, wasn’t expecting to run into that particular cliche on this trip…” Henri muttered to herself.

Switching on the lights on their Pipbucks, the party ventured down as Riptalon muttered something about: “What was it my mother said about never trusting strangers?” to himself.

Somnambula’s Light: A Half Hour ago…

Hooves and claws tapped against metal grating as water dripped off the cavern roof as the group continued going deeper into the underbelly of Mount Pleasant Island. That path grew even darker with each step. It seemed, like everything else on this island, Somnambula’s Light was an ironic name.

Eventually, the group came to an old lab. Terminals, lying in horrible condition from years of disrepair and poor upkeep lay scattered about. An overhead light flickered on and off, as various corridors behind doors, sealed tight, branched off to other areas.

“Okay, any terminals still operational?” Twilight’s voice inquired. “Must say, for being shut tight for over 200 years, this place is in really rather remarkable condition...”

“We really need to redefine your definition of remarkable,” Riptalon snarked before he let out a sigh. “But yeah, a few of these terminals are still in working order. Just got to remember how to break into them. Gimme a second, okay?”

For the next few minutes or so, Riptalon sat typing away at a nearby terminal.

“Anything?” Henri asked.

“Well, not much of use… Unless you actually understand techno-babble. This Starlight, she was a genius, I’ll give her that much. There’s some stuff about a Hollow Equestria theory, whatever that is. Doubt anyone’s really interested in that, so we’ll skip over that stuff,” Riptalon commented. Twilight sounded ready to begin a small lecture about the Hollow Equestria theory judging from the start of her voice again, but seemingly thought the better of it. “Weapons plans, far more intriguing. Ideas for things like a Plasma Caster. Supposed to fire hot bolts of magic to targets, and bind these bolts before they detonate. The bolts were supposed to bounce off other surfaces as well, but it seemed Starlight could never quite get the idea working. Mentions here of a few trial runs, but they always ended… explosively and not in the way she intended suffice to say,” Riptalon continued before he suddenly stopped. “Huh, now this is interesting…”

“Good kind of interesting, or bad kind of interesting?” Twilight’s voice asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“Well, we’ll just have to see here in a moment…” Riptalon murmured as he typed away at the terminal, and there was the sound of a door hissing, and then unlocking with a loud thud that echoed throughout the lab.

“Midnight, Iron, you two go on and check out whatever it is our resident Blackhawk just dug up. Take Twilight with you,” Henri ordered. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Riptalon and see if we can find anything else of interest or find out if this place is a waste of our time.

With a gesture to follow him, Iron led Midnight down the newly opened corridor to a small room wherein, lay a containment module that was just beginning to open. Inside the module, her sea-green eyes just barely beginning to flutter open was a light pink filly with a dark, midnight blue mane.

“...War never changes, eh?” Midnight asked as he and Iron shared a look.

Author's Note

Edited by Kyler Adams, because he's awesome.

Honestly, this was one of the toughest chapters yet, not just because of the length but because of the simulated sequence at the beginning and what led up to it from Iron's point of view. I wanted to get the maximum amount of heartstrings pulled with Starglow's introduction, and to be honest, not sure if I really pulled that off. Your thoughts on the matter would be appreciated.

Also, yes, sorry Midnight if you character jacking off to an old Playpony mag of Tempest was more than a bit tasteless. But on the upside, it did lead into a small character moment with Twilight, allowing her to show a brief moment of vulnerability.

Also, more possible flirtations between Iron and Riptalon, so uh... yay?

Part 15: What we do in the dark...

A train whistle blew as an old steam engine rattled down the rails of the lands outside of the once sprawling metropolis of Manehatten. Tall skyscrapers loomed in the distance, once proudly reaching for the sun. Now, they stood alone, and abandoned in hulking collections of rotting iron and steel.

Lonely testaments to a bygone age when ponies made money, went about their daily lives without a care in the world, not knowing of the looming thunder that lay ahead on the horizon.

“This is your president, Winter Breeze,” a familiar voice crackled over a Pipbuck. “Now, you know I only want what’s best for Equestria, for all of us. Sadly, some ponies disagree. This message goes out to the NCR, and anyone who supports them.

“Just give yourselves up peacefully, and we can end this little firefight once and for all. You’re already spending way more resources and throwing more bodies into this war machine than you need to,” Winter said sadly. “Ask yourself, is it really worth fighting both me and Stormy Skies' Enclave when you have to show up on a child’s doorstep to tell them that their mother or father isn’t coming home? Just let me guide you to a brighter future. If you ally yourself with me, the rewards will be plenty. A partnership with me will bear fruit, I promise you that. Only together, we can drive back and exterminate that religious extremist who calls himself Equestria’s new savior and began to repair Equestria, and bring it back to its former glory.”

The odd thing was that to the listener, one President Regina Grimfeathers of the New Canterlot Republic, Winter Breeze did sound like she did practice what she preached for lack of a better phrase.

Honestly, she had to admit that she’d been getting rumblings amongst her own troops that between this war, the one with the ‘Grand Edginess Enclave’ as it had been starting to have been called, and all the other Enclave reemergences over the past decade, that they were starting to grow tired of the constant fighting. Privately, Regina couldn’t say she blamed them. With both Redeye and the Goddess gone and what remained of the Enclave driven back during the days leading up to the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows, the Wastes were supposed to have been at peace.

Sadly it seemed, the Wastes, like war itself, never changed.

“Up for a game of cards?” a raspy voice asked, and Regina immediately reached for her pistols as soon as she heard that voice. In the shadows at the back end of the train car, a pony clad in black with a stetson covering most of his facial features -the ones that weren’t obscured by the shadows anyways- rested with a lit cigarette in his mouth. “...Honestly, don’t know why I even both smoking these damn things anyway,” the pony muttered to himself. “Not like I can get any particular pleasure from them. Old habit I guess, one I can’t break.”

“Who are you?” Regina asked, keeping her pistols trained on the pony who simply tossed his cigarette away and began shuffling a deck of cards.

“Me, just an observer... Somepony who likes to help when needed. And honestly, you need all the help you can get Regina Grimfeathers. How goes the war effort?”

“You here to be funny, or do you actually have any help to offer, you old buck?” Regina snapped.

“I know where you’re going, who you’re trying to convince to lend his aid. But that’s not going to be easy, and even if by some miracle you do get his aid in your bloody civil war, it’s not going to be enough and you know it. Something’s coming, a storm on the horizon.”

With that, the Dealer fished out two cards from his deck, one that looked to depict three interlocked triangles, and the other depicted Celestia’s sun.

“No offense, but pretty sure Rockhoof and Celestia aren’t going to be aiding us anytime soon,” Regina deadpanned.

“I wasn’t referring to them as individuals. Ask your friend Scootaloo about the meaning of these symbols sometime, their other meaning. She knows all too well what they mean… That mare, keeps far too many secrets for her own good if you ask me.”

“...Anything else?” Regina deadpanned and the pony -If that’s even what he was- seemed to smirk before fishing two more cards out of his deck. Both sent Regina realing. One card was an ace, and the other a queen of spades.

“I’d suggest you start looking for more help, even if you don’t like whom I have to suggest.” the card-dealing pony remarked. “Also, keep an eye on Tenpony Tower. If you’re as smart as you claim to be, then you should figure out the meanings of at least one of my cards Ms. Grimfeathers. I bid you a good day.”

With that, the pony seemed to vanish into the shadows with a tip of his hat, and the only traces that he was ever there were the cards he’d left and the burnt cigarette. Regina shuddered, she didn’t know why, but she felt just even looking at the pony, she was looking into her own grave.

“One that they may very well be digging sooner or later if all goes sour, or if I even follow that pony’s advice…” Regina thought to herself. She knew very well whom she’d just spoken with, even if he was supposed to be a legend.

“Hmph, seems Blackjack wasn’t lying about the Dealer being a real force in the Wastes…” Regina continued to muse. “Maybe she’s not as crazy as she looks. After all, if I just saw him, who knows how many other Wastelanders did. And how many of their stories are more than just hogwash…”

She thought back to a few days before, where a pony had come to her office claiming some sort of wild story where the stallion had appeared before him and told him to deliver a message to Regina. When she’d asked what the message in question was, the pony simply had nervously fished out a playing card depicting a shield with a purple starburst encased trophy inside.

She’d dismissed it at the time, just as a pony trying to play a joke on her and sent the soldier on his way after tossing the card. It seemed the Dealer wasn’t happy with his messages being ignored or being taken as malarky and had come to deliver his ‘wisdom’, if one could even call it that, personally.

A door opened, and Calamity stepped in with his sniper rifle on his back. (Oathsworn, if she’d remembered the name of it correctly) He bore a battle saddle with two Novasurge rifles attached to it as well.

“Almost there, Madam President,” Calamity informed, before he noticed the look on Regina’s face, and the general state of her. “Ya alright Madam? Ya look a mite shook up,” he commented.

“Comments on my appearance, save them and keep them to yourself Calamity,” Regina replied. “But thanks for the information. Get your troops ready, because if this all goes so-”

“Begging yer pardon ma’am, but ya don’t look in any shape to negotiate with this “Wheeltreads” if yer asking for mah honest opinion.”

“I wasn’t, was I?” Regina snapped, beginning to get annoyed.

“Just sayin’, Madam President. Call it concern for ya,” Calamity replied. “Forgive me for speakin’ mah mind, and speakin’ plainly, but… This war, it’s putting the pressure on all of us, Ah know, but we need to keep ourselves from fallin’ to pieces,” he said. “Ya look like ya took several steps to the edge of the abyss, and looked down. And it looked back.”

“May just have…” Regina muttered, far too quietly for Calamity to hear. The pegasus meanwhile, noted the burnt out cigarette resting on the floor.

“Thought ya quit smoking, gave it up,” Calamity commented. “Not one to judge, Ah suppose. Celestia knows we all have our own vices. Can’t blame ya if you decided to start up again. Hell, thought of turnin’ to the bottle mahself a few times with how things have been going lately…”

“Did I ask for your opinion on things, Deadshot?” Regina growled, and Calamity took a few steps back from her tone.

“No… No, you didn’t. Sorry if Ah overstepped mah boundaries, Madam President. Just sayin’ though, ya need someone to look out for ya, that’s all.”

“Calamity, if I wanted you as my personal shrink, I would have asked for your help,” Regina barked out. “Now just get your troops ready, and make them know what they might be in for.”

Calamity raised an eyebrow as he picked up the Queen of Spades card.

“Didn’t know ya gambled either,” Calamity mused aloud with an almost knowing smirk. “But nuthin’ wrong with that. After all, Ah ain’t one to judge…”

“Calamity!” Regina barked out once more. “Now!”

“Yes ma’am, Ah’ll get right to work,” he replied, sensing it was probably about time he shut up and took his leave.

Eventually, the train pulled to a halt at a nearby station.

“Leave your troops on the train, Wheeltreads doesn’t like a whole squad invading his home.” a guard said gruffly as a greeting. Calamity growled, but Regina shook her head and gestured all around them. The Element of Loyalty’s eyes widened.

On the nearby rooftops, and in guard towers, they sat. Each held various rifles, perfect for sniping any runaways or unwanted visitors. Calamity’s eyes narrowed. Raiders, by the look of ‘em. The fact that the general attire of what the guards wore looked like a hodge-podge if you will of different materials and just barely held together was a big hint. Another was the sheer smell, the guards smelled like they hadn’t bathed in days really.

Calamity sniffed his armpit, and his nose wrinkled up. Neither had he, actually now that he thought about it. In the background, the guard continued, “Not to worry, long as your troops don’t do anything stupid, or you for that matter, we won’t fire. Under orders.”

“Gee, Velvet really must love the smell of sweaty southerner. Au De Swamp Dweller really must be a good turn-on for her.” Regina deadpanned, noting Calamity’s reaction to his scent.

Calamity rolled his eyes at her and thought to himself: “And ponies wonder why our dear president is still single after all these years…” he dryly remarked. “Still, a good night with a stallion or a mare would probably loosen her up a little… God knows she needs less stress in her life…”

“Calamity, if you’re thinking of matchmaking me with someone from the NCR, don’t bother okay?” Regina drawled out as they started into the camp, and Calamity’s jaw dropped in shock. “And if you’re wondering how the Hell I knew what you were thinking right then, I know your wife and her love for shipping ponies and griffons. If I wanted a sex buddy, or any sort of companionship, I would have taken somebody long ago. But this life… Doesn’t leave much room for love I’m afraid, not when you’re constantly worried about if you’re going to make it to the next day.” she continued, with a trace of sadness in her tone before she quickly lost it and became Madam President once more.

The two continued to walk the streets of the old POW camp, eyes still on them and their troop with every step. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as clouded gray skies covered the outskirts of Manehatten. A prelude to an afternoon summer storm.

“Ya’d think they’d crack a smile, or something,” Calamity muttered to himself as he looked at his many watchers. “It’s unnerving, not seeing a Raider grin… Even a sick, twisted little psychotic “Gonna kill ya now” smile would be nice right ‘bout now...”

“It’s fear, that’s what it is. Somebody’s keeping them in line… Or something,” Regina replied. “That fear, you can see it in their eyes if you look close enough.”

“Now Ah know Raiders get afraid, in their very nature to be cowards and get going when the going gets tough… But for them ta be this organized, and yet afraid and not turn on each other?” Calamity pondered. “It’s really starting ta unnerve me. Don’t like admitting that, but it does…”

They didn’t have to wait long for an answer to exactly why the raiders were so afraid. In front of them was a cave leading downwards. And above the mouth of that cave, hanging by a meathook in his mouth, was a ghoul.

Calamity and Regina shared a look. What in Celestia and Luna’s names had they stepped into?

Mount Pleasant Island: Somnambula's Light

The small filly -Abnormally small, Midnight noted, probably due to a lack of food or some other disorder- took one stumbling step, and then another out of her cryopod. Some sort of small device was strapped to her head, and connected to the inside of the pod by a thin cord. She stumbled forwards a few more steps before falling forwards. Before she hit the floor, Nimbus caught her in his forelegs.

“I gotcha, kid… Don’t worry…”

“Who… Who are you?” the filly whispered in a raspy voice, sounding like she hadn’t spoken in years. Midnight soon corrected himself, she had been fed, as nearby the pod was a container of magical energy with a cord connecting the two. An unusual method of supplement, to be sure, but if this Starlight was as big of a genius as she was supposed to be…

“Good question really…” Iron mumbled to himself softly, too soft for anyone else to hear. “Probably should be asking you the same question, actually…”

“Starglow… Starglow Starhoof,” the filly coughed out.

“Easy kid… Gonna have to find you some water or some sort of liquid sooner or later, but I sure as Hell ain’t giving you any whiskey, not at your age. Got to wait at least a decade before I’m letting you have that.”

The small filly zapped him with a small magenta-hued magic blast with her horn, making Iron yelp a little.

“What was that for?” Iron asked, wincing in pain as Midnight sniggered. Feisty little thing, she was. “...Got half a mind to take you up in my wing and smack you across your flank for that…” the storm gray pegasus muttered to himself.

“Mommy taught me never to say any naughty words, and to reprimand anyone who did!” Starglow reprimanded.

“Great, so you’ve got a little Velvet Remedy on your hooves!” Midnight cackled. “How do you feel about being a daddy?”

“And how do you feel about being shot in the bloody head, you wan-OW! Celestia’s sakes!”

Starglow had zapped him again during the middle of his remark, causing Midnight to only laugh harder.

“...Why I oughta…” Iron grumbled, thoroughly put off by this filly already.

Starglow, at about that moment, finally took notice of her surroundings, and her eyes widened in fear.

“Where… Where am I?” she began to stammer out in fear. “It’s… It’s cold and it’s dark, and I don’t recognize this place! W-Where’s my home in Ponyville?”

Midnight and Iron shared a look, something was definitely weird here.

“Remind me to have a little talk with Twilight Sparkle when I next see her and that little Spirit-Bot of hers,” Iron growled out before looking squarely at Midnight. “Also, and if I ever meet her in person, punch her in the face for not telling us we’d be retrieving a little filly!”

Quietly, Midnight shared those sentiments. Iron’s eyes shot up towards the vents above them, he could have sworn he saw a medium sized shadow -Lizard-like in form- dart across the grating above him before vanishing.

“That Eyes Forward Sparkle System… Blackjack, if I ever meet up with you, I swear I’m socking you across the jaw for having the NCR get rid of the damn thing…” Iron thought, before he looked back down at the little filly.

“Where’s… Where’s Ponyville? Where’s my parents?” Starglow asked again, this time her voice beginning to quiver as her eyes began to tear up.

“In a pile of rubble, and as for your parents, de-” Iron began, before Midnight shot him a very nasty look.

“...Sorry, was I being rude or insensitive again?” Iron asked, and before Midnight could even open his mouth, Iron changed his mind. “Sorry, really don’t actually care. Honestly, she deserves to know the truth!” he hissed out towards his companion.

“Sure, and then we tell her that Equestria’s an irradiated wasteland and there’s a civil war going on!” Midnight hissed back at him. “How well do you think she’ll take that?”

Iron opened his mouth to answer, but seemingly thought the better of it. Then, a small beeping sound caught both of their attentions and they turned to see part of the wall open up to reveal a small little magical energy pistol glowing with a bright orange light and a Pipbuck.

“Give those to her, now.” Iron stated, without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Excuse me?” Midnight asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Like you said, considering where we are… She’s going to need them sooner or later.” Iron replied, and with a sigh, Midnight took both items and handed them to Starglow.

“Why… Why are you giving these to me? What are they, some kind of toy?” she asked in curiosity. Midnight sucked in a deep breath, before sighing.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s what they are. Your own personal toy laser and portable mini-terminal.” he replied, while shooting Iron yet another nasty look. Starglow seemed content on waving the energy pistol around and making small ‘pew-pew’ sounds to amuse herself for the time being. It was sorta cute, in a way. Still, Midnight and Iron both winced. They both knew sooner or later, she’d probably be firing that thing for real much as they both hated the thought of it.

“Celestia-Fucking-Damnit, Twilight Sparkle, when I get my hooves on you…” Iron mentally growled.

“Let’s just go find the others, okay?” Iron said, as he took another look up towards the vents. “Sooner we get out of here, the better in my mind…”

Back in the main laboratory, Riptalon was starting to get tired of waiting for Iron and Midnight to come back, and spun around in his chair in boredom.

“Hey, found something,” Target stated as she walked back up carrying a bag in her hoof. “Found this stashed in a locker. Looks to be a cache of old holotapes.”

“Might as well have a look at what’s on them, maybe then we can figure out a few more of the mysteries surrounding this place…” Henri trailed off as she pulled one out of the bag. She then turned to Twilight’s Sprite-Bot. “With your permission of course.”

“...Not like there’s anything I can really do to stop you.” Twilight’s voice continued. Hoofsteps pounded against the ground, sounded like she was running.

“Hey, you alright?” Henri asked in slight concern.

“Fine, just fine!” Twilight replied as the sounds of magical energy being let loose were heard and something screeched in pain in the background. “...Just dealing with the locals, that’s all.”

“Mirelurks?” Henri asked, with a knowing tone.

“Mirelurks.” Twilight confirmed. “Close to your location now, I’ll be able to join you shortly. Meantime, might as well get yourself settled. See what else you can dig up. I admit, I’m somewhat curious as to what else my student got up to there…”

“What do you mean by what else?” Henri asked suspiciously, getting the feeling they weren’t being told the full truth. Twilight never answered and Henri groaned and muttered something rude (And quite blasphemic, truth be told) about: “...Secretive Ministry Mares and their need to know based ideas…”

In the meantime, Target inserted the first of the holotapes -Or what she assumed was the first, it wasn’t like she could really tell- into her Pipbuck. Then, everybody’s eyes widened as along with Starlight, a mare everyone knew all too well appeared as a hardlight formation.

“Honestly Starlight, I know you wanted a child and all, but don’t you think this isn’t quite the time for such a thing?” Trixie asked and Starlight rolled her eyes.

“Now or never I suppose, considering the war’s waging and if we don’t survive, at least I want to leave a legacy behind.” Starlight whispered sadly, and Henri felt a pang of sympathy go out to the mare. She did have to wonder what life could have been like for the two had none of this ever happened. Just another life cut short by the horrors of war, she thought as a tear slipped from her eye.

Trixie put an arm around her wife. “Hey, you got moi and your legacy as Trixie’s ever so dazzling stage assistant right? That’s something at least, isn’t it?”

“I meant something more meaningful than that, really.” Starlight replied with a small wistful smile, and a good-natured roll of the eyes.

“But a child growing up in wartime? How do you know she’ll even live to see his or her teenage years? No, how do you even know she’ll live past her toddlerhood?” Trixie accused, her eyes narrowing.

“Because I’ve thought ahead. Heard rumors some Ministry pony approached Twilight, and the rest with an idea of a magically created child. ...I thought about doing the same honestly, if my ethics weren’t screaming out about how wrong it was…”

With that, the holotape ended.

“Play the next one,” Henri told Target, rather curious about where this was going. And so the sniper pony did.

This time, Trixie and Starlight were joined by another pony, one with a scruffy burnt orange mane with matching goatee, and light orange fur. He wore a dark grey suit, and reading glasses.

“So glad you volunteered for this Sunny,” Starlight said. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.”

“Hey, anything to help an old friend…” ‘Sunny’ replied, with a slightly nervous laugh and a visible flush on his cheeks. Nobody needed to guess why he was flushing, given the prior discussion.

“Sunburst, remember. Just your… stuff into Starlight and that’s that, okay? She’s my wife, not yours, remember?” Trixie hissed, pulling Starlight closer to her in a jealous fashion. Sunburst rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, it’s called sperm. This is science, so we’re going to call it by its scientific name and that’s the end of it,” Sunburst sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples with a hoof. “You’re such a child Trixie, and besides I would never dream of taking away your wife from you. She was just a childhood crush, and that’s that! All you need to do is donate a little bit of your DNA and we’ll mix it with my own and Starlight’s and you’ll have your, or well our child.”

“Our child, not yours,” Trixie snapped, more than a little impatient for Sunburst to just do what he needed to do and leave. “Remember that, okay?”

She then hoofed over an old Playpony mag, one with a mare named Fizzlepop Berrytwist on the cover to Sunburst. “Here, that should get you going… Celestia knows she seems to have an effect on every hot-blooded stallion (And Twilight, if you believe the rumors) that lays eyes upon her.” Trixie muttered to herself as Sunburst took the magazine and left the room. Riptalon, as he watched the projection, had to wonder what Trixie was doing with a Playpony mag anyways.

“Really Trixie, Sunburst’s right. You’re acting like a child about this…” Starlight commented. “He’s not going to just take our child away from us as soon as he or she is born. He just isn’t! He knows how much this means to me!”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right…” Trixie admitted, hanging her head in shame, and Starlight nuzzled her affectionately. Target let out a small “Aww…” at the sight. “Trixie’s just… well, can you blame a would-be mother for being protective of their child? ...Child, I’m going to have to get used to that word soon, considering you’ll by carrying mine around for the next nine months.” she whispered, still not believing the idea that she was soon going to be a mother if all went well.

Of course, right about then, Iron and Midnight re-entered the room bearing the fruits of Starlight and Trixie’s labors.

“Somepony want to explain something to me? Like right now?” Iron asked angrily, his eyes narrowed as he gestured to Starglow. Henri’s, Target’s and Riptalon’s eyes all collectively widened in shock.

When Iron had heard what had happened, or at least how Starlight was conceived, he was in no better mood than he was before. If anything, Riptalon’s mood was far worse after he’d heard (And seen) Starglow had been given a gun and her own personal Pipbuck.

“You want to explain to me what the Hell you were thinking?” Riptalon asked him, pulling him into a nearby corridor out of earshot. Normally, if he was in a better mood, Iron would have made some crude joke probably.

“She’s in a war zone, we’re in a war zone. You do the math.” Iron said bluntly, seemingly passing this off as just something normal to him. Riptalon knew that chances are Starglow would have to defend herself soon enough, but that didn’t mean he had to like it one bit.

“I know where we are, thank you very much,” Riptalon snarled. “What, are you just naturally that cold? Did getting back some of your Enclave memories flick a sensitivity switch off in your brain and you think of us now as expendable toy soldiers?”

Iron wrenched himself away from Riptalon’s grip and started to walk away. He turned to look back at him, eyes narrowed.

“I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut and not refer to me as a member of the Enclave. That’s behind me now.” Iron snarled out, pure venom in his tone.

“Funny, doesn’t seem to be behind you. You sure have the attitude of an Enclave soldier, not caring one jot about who’s under your ‘command’. You’re as bad… you’re as bad as Stormy Skies!” Riptalon shouted furiously, and almost instantly he regretted saying that as he was socked across the beak by Iron.

Rubbing his beak in pain, Riptalon muttered: “Oh, so that’s the way you want to play it eh?”

With a roar of rage, he charged towards Iron, one of his arms pulled back and socked him across the jaw as well.

The two friends now fighting like animals circled each other. Both their eyes looked directly at the other. The muscles in their bodies hard as rocks. The sound of the hooves while they walked around the griffin. The griffin twisted and turned his body. The power behind each movement made their bodies and hearts sing.

Before Riptalon could strike Iron turned quickly around to do an apple family style buck. But Riptalon had a better plan.

Riptalon backed up a bit before the hooves hit. Grabbing the poor pony with his paws. But the issue with doing that was that Iron is a pony after all. So with one swift movement of his body, Iron twisted his body a bit and smashed a hoof in Riptalon’s face.

Riptalon let out a small snarl and headbutted Iron in retaliation making him stumble back.

Dropping the griffon, Iron stumbled back onto his hooves. His left foreleg above the hoof dripping a little bit of blood. But just enough to get Iron’s heart to beat like a drum. The two start to circle each other again. Their hooves and paws making the drum of a battle.

Riptalon rushed in quickly to try to get the upper hoof. But again with Iron being a stallion he would have the most easy way to dodge him and his blows. Hoof and paw smacked together causing both fighter’s pain in their legs

Anger, hate, and the ever-present brutal nature of both wishing to see the other either dead or at least in pain. Riptalon charged the pony again. Claws extending from the paws and with one quick swipe cut the flesh on the side Iron’s face. Fresh blood poured from the wound.

Before either fighter could do anything further, something smashed through a nearby wall with a loud shriek. It was long, serpentine in form with dark scales. It, for neither Riptalon nor Iron could think up a good name for it sprouted two legs and a long whip-like tail. It wore a giant skull atop its head. No, that was incorrect. That skull was it’s head, as shown when it shrieked again revealing its gaping maw.

Iron and Riptalon, forgetting their past quarrel, shared a look.

“Run?” Riptalon asked, going for Lawgiver. It barked several times, and the creature hissed out in anger and pain.

“Run.” Iron confirmed.

Author's Note

Well, like we didn't know that fight scene with Iron and Riptalon was coming somewhere along the line. On that, thank you so much to Megaskullmon for helping me write it out and for the usage of his character of Wheeltreads and company.

Also, as ever, Ruinqueen for her permission to use the characters of Survivor's Guilt and Somber for allowing me the usage of the Dealer AKA Johnny Cash Pony :derpytongue2: .

Actually, on credit going where it's due, thank you Twilightace for allowing me to take inspiration from your commission of Alicorn Twilight to use for my description of her in-story.

Part 16: Recruitment Drive

Wheeltreads’ Camp: The Gates

The gates look simple. Everyday wooden gates. A mare sits on top of the gates with a griffon. The blue unicorn mare lifts up her sniper rifle. “Not another step, now state your business and if you wish to trade. But at this moment we are on lockdown.”

“Need to see Wheeltreads,” Regina replied gruffly. “President Regina Grimfeathers of the NCR and with me is Calamity Deadshot, Element of Loyalty.”

The griffin scoffs. “NCR, just as bad as the Enclave. But since you have one of the Elements, we will open up the gate.”

Regina growled, and moved forwards and threateningly reached for one of her pistols but Calamity held up a hoof to stop her. “Easy girl, don’t want any trouble…”

The blue unicorn mare’s horn glows and the gate rises. She clambered down the ladder to stand by it. “Forgive Tiny here, he doesn't quite understand the meaning of manners. I’m Bulwark,” she greeted and held out a hoof. “Lovely to meet you,”

“Naw… Pleasure’s all ours, ma’am,” Calamity nodded, with a tip of his hat.

“Now I will take you to the leaders’ of the town.” Bulwark explained. The blue mare lead them past a statue and three graves. On a pedestal in front of the statue is a glass case with a cracked orb. A old, battered, and weathered journal and a Pipbuck rested nearby.

Out of curiosity, and glancing up at the statue of the giant Hellhound-like creature, Calamity walked towards the journal and opened up a page of it.

“The Enclave, they’ve placed us in cages... Tiria escaped but.. She promised to come back for us. It's been two weeks now... They’re trying to starve us,” Calamity read aloud. “ All simply because they’re thinkin’ we’re raiders… Damn those Raiders for being here! Oh no, they're comin’ to break another hoof of mine… Signed Kipkipe.”

Calamity closed the journal, and looked towards Bulwark with an angry glare. “Ya one of them? One of those who broke Kipkipe’s hoof? Starved him?” he asked, his voice rising in tone. “If Littlepip were here, and yer lucky she ain’t, she would’ve shot y’all to pieces right quick.”

Bulwark rolled her eyes. “Calm down Deadshot. I was captured by the Enclave too,” she countered. “That was written by the new leaders after Wheeltreads died during the siege to get this place back. Sadly… So did many others.” she whispered before she looked up to the statue. “She, Tiria was her name, died giving birth a year after. She came to rescue us. Finds a mate and then her entire journey leads her to slowly die from childbirth.”

“Celestia almighty…” Calamity whispered sadly, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest in respect. Regina wiped away a tear.

“What’s with the Orb?” she then asked, in a quizzical manner.

Bulwark stared at the cracked orb. “Her kind used to be ponies. A project known as Project Iron wolf,” she explained. “Scootaloo asked the only one who worked on it to find a way to continue the pony way of life,” she sighed trying to keep herself from crying. “Her own kind.. Kicked her out of their den at Shattered hoof. She learned this orb... transformed her kind from ponies into...that,”

Bulwark pointed to the statue of the wolf.

“Think Ah’ve heard rumors about this story, mentioned somethin’ about a thing called the Howlin’ Dance,” Calamity put in.

Bulwark nodded. “Wheeltreads is buried near her statue along with her… Mate and a creature known as a Rat Creeper known as Lilly nicknamed Pot Head.” Bulwark explained pointing her hoof to the cooking pot on the grave.

“Heard rumors from a… source, shall we say, that Wheeltreads was still alive.” Regina butted in.

She chuckles. “Oh he’s not the reason why those Raiders outside are scared to death. I will take you to them.”

“Good, cause I’m starting to want some answers ‘round here…” Regina muttered.

Bulwark led them through the city. A large robot that looked recently put back together turns to them with its one eye. Just staring for the moment, but Calamity shivered at the stare all the same. “Down Proto, they’re friends,” Bulwark told it.

The robot nodded went along on its patrol.

“Lovely form of guards ya have…” Calamity deadpanned as he watched the robot walk off.

“Yes, Wheeltreads found him at a Ministry of Technology hub.” Bulwark explained.

“Lemme guess, he’s the reason the guards are so scared, right?” Regina surmised.

Bulwark snorted before she laughed, shaking her head as she did so. “No.” she said simply. She then led them to an old house, knocking on the door with three soft knocks set to the tune of a “Shave and a Haircut.”

The door opened up. “Go on in and meet the leaders.” She stated bowing her head to them.

“Nothin’ ventured… ‘nothin’ gained…” Calamity muttered as he slowly walked inside with Regina.

They heard many voices once they were inside the small dwelling. “We need to be ready to fight whatever is coming!” someone shouted. The voice sounded robotic in nature. With a cautious glance shared between them, Regina and Calamity walked further inside.

The interior was filled with all kinds of inhabitants, gathered around the small war room and a table. A teal mare, one very large mutated rat with a gun strapped to his leg, a robotic pony, and two Raiders in trash comprised armor and last but not least,a pure black griffon.

The first one to look up is the rat. “Ah welcome, welcome. I’m King Cannonball. I don’t really lead this town... Just a town in a war-torn Hell known as Reaper Fields,” he said as a greeting. “if you want the leaders....”

He points to the three. The robot pony turns his red eyes staring directly at them.

“What is the core value of Friendship?” The robot pony asked.

“Uh… Magic?” Calamity guessed.

The robot pony shook his head. “Sadly if it was that simple…” he trailed off. “But logic dictates that it’s not. Now how may we help you?”

“You been listening to the news lately?” Regina asked. “The daily blues, along with the two Enclaves preaching right and left about bettering Equestria...” she said sarcastically.

“Yes, we heard that load of trash. Good thing Tiria is not alive.. She would go back to being very anti-pony again. Saying even the NCR is a threat since they wish to bring back a silly war.” The robot stated. “A war that I saw happen as those bombs fell. Walking the world 210 years alone does things to many... But not to a robot.” He added

“Why you…” Regina snarled but Calamity stopped her.

“Easy girl… This is their house,” he warned.

The teal mare smiled. “Oh don’t worry about Silver. He’s easy to get used to.”

She has a baby pup strapped to a bag hanging on her neck.

“Tiria’s?” Regina guessed.

Kip nodded. “Yes..everypony here… watched. Even the one named Ditzy Doo gave her a dream to see the sun and the moon before she passed. Which is sadly our lives...” She smiled weakly.

“Ah’m sorry…” Calamity apologized. “For being part of this… Well, whatever this is.”

“You aren’t Enclave anymore, Deadshot so I won’t kill you like I should.” The black griffon said. “But you have come in peace. Let the one better than all of us with no sins speak for us.” The black griffon stated.

“Great, more preachy types…” Regina muttered, having had enough of that lately.

“Yes I am sure. I’m Silver Gunner. I am sure you have seen my hoof work in areas.” The robot pony chuckled mechanically.

“Yeah, Ah’ve seen your… work,” Calamity grimaced. “The Silver Gunner walks, isn’t that yer calling card?”

“Yes, it is. I don’t give mercy to those who don’t deserve it. If they threaten peace, they must burn. Such is the way of logic.”

“How’d that old comic book quote go?” Calamity asked himself. “Oh yeah…
With blood and rage of crimson red,

Ripped from a corpse so freshly dead,

Together with our hellish hate,

We'll burn you all--That is yer fate!” he quoted. “...Or somethin’ like that. Bet you’d love that line, eh?”

Silver nodded. “Now I take it you wish our help?” he asked. “The leader of the NCR doesn't just go anywhere, after all…” he trailed off.

“Yes, we need help. No shame in admitting that,” Regina replied. “War’s going badly, we’re fighting on two fronts, possibly three. Two against both Enclaves, and a third on the PR front dealing with Winter’s words. And we’re losing.”

“Hmm well, I did hear Scootaloo is alive. So we will help... But!” He then interjected and added: “It stays silent about who we are. The Enclave almost killed every creature here once before.”

“And you don’t want it to happen again…” Regina trailed off, looking towards Tiria’s pup, with a nod of understanding. “Any good men you can spare?”

“Jabari. His father was one of the zebras that helped stop Tiria from getting assassinated on her deathbed,” Kip put in. “Got a few nasty skills that would serve you well.”

“I’d like to meet him.” Regina said. “Where is he?”

“We will call him. CROW!!” She called. “Crow, get your flank down here!!”

A crow lands on the table turning from a bird into a changeling.

“Holy…” Calamity whispered, his senses screaming to go for Oathsworn. Regina went for her pistols.

All of the creatures inside the building pulled out their weapons, aiming for the two. “Oh all this fuss and bother over little ole me?“ The changeling smirked.

“Crow, please go get Jabari and stop being such a donkey.” Kip said, slightly exasperated by her friend’s behavior. It showed as she rubbed her temples. The changeling nodded flying out of the building.

Mount (Un)Pleasant Island: Somnambula’s Light:

Riptalon panted as his claws hit the floor, Iron galloping right beside him as the creature -Iron would later call it a Skullcrawler- scampered up the side of a wall and shrieked again. Iron took this brief moment to fire off a shot from his peacemaker, and hit it dead in the eye, a splotch of green blood hitting the wall.

“Run! Now it’s really going to be pissed!” Iron shouted as the two got moving once more as another shriek came from behind them...

Wheeltreads’ Camp: The Arena:

Panting and sweating, and covered in blood stood a golden Zebra, sword in hoof. A multitude of dead raiders lay around him.

“So, what you got left for me?” Jabari shouted to the box seats above him. His ears twitched, before he whirled around, drawing his blade only to face Crow.

“Man… How many times have I told ya not to go and sneak up on me like that?” the teenage zorse asked, catching his breath and letting his heartbeat get back to normal. “Could have lost your head, like that guy over there…” he trailed off, pointing to a nearby body. Decapitated, of course.

“Yes... anyway your training to go find.. Her is put on hold. I need you to come back and talk to Silver Gunner.”

“‘Bout what?” Jabari asked.

“The leader of the NCR is here,” Crow said simply, and that got the zorse’s attention at once.

“Perfect…” Jabari smirked. “Just who I was hoping would come to call. She’s got some explaining to do, that’s for sure…” he trailed off, a slight growl in his tone. If the President of the NCR really knew what went on here, behind the scenes she might not be so keen to ally herself with the group set up here. Or maybe she did know, and she just didn’t care. Either way, they needed to have words. Shaking away his thoughts, Jabari sighed before he looked at Crow. “Well, aren’t you going to ask how all... this (Here he gestured to what had just occurred) happened?”

As he asked that, he thought back…

“And now, please, ladies and gentlebucks, will you give a warm welcome to the thing that should not be, the zorse… Jabari!” the announcer's voice echoed, and the crowd roared. Jabari sighed to himself, every time he entered the arena he was greeted with… that. A constant reminder of what he was, a freak of nature. Zebras and ponies should never have mixed, and yet here he was… an exception to every rule.

The Raiders sent out to greet him gave devilish smiles.

“Don’t know what buck whored himself out to create you mate, but going to fix his little mistake…” as he drew a long sharp sword.

“You’re going to die in here freak!” one said, as he readied his IF-9 shotgun. Others drew weapons of various types as well, each raider quite willing to kill him. Honestly, Jabari didn’t know what scared the Raiders outside of the arena into working for the leaders of the settlement but as he drew his shock sword, he doubted it was him.

Well, time to remedy that he supposed. His sword crackled to life, and Jabari -even as he gripped the sword in his hooves- had to admit he was smirking a little at the fear incited in the raiders.

“What? Afraid of me now? A freak?” Jabari snapped bitterly. As he and the band of raiders circled each other, bodies from the last bloodfight still stinking up the joint all around him, Jabari began to hum an old song he once heard sung by this mare named Velvet Remedy, whoever she was.

“Tell the rambler,
The gambler,
The back biter
Tell 'em that Celestia's gonna cut 'em down
Tell 'em that Celestia's gonna cut 'em down…” he hummed to himself as he raised his blade.

The raiders slowly encircled him, each of the six raising a gun and grinning ghoulishly as they prepared to perforate him thoroughly. Jabari's ears perked as the various clicks of the raiders cocking their weapons sounded around him, the anxiousness plain on the three whose faces he could see. Time seemed to stand still for a moment before, with a titanic boom, the raider with the shotgun pulled the trigger and the fight was on.

Jabari immediately hit the dirt, not knowing where the shot had gone as he slid low across the ground toward one raider, slicing his chest open as the others open fire. Jabari gets behind the raider, hauling the body in front of him as a shield from the gunfire even as he lashed out at the raider to his right, taking a leg off and sending him screaming to the ground even as he hears the remaining four click on empty chambers, a relieved grin spreading across the zorse’s face at the sound.

He lets the lifeless body of the raider drop to the ground and moves like lightning, disemboweling the third raider as they fumbled for reloads, two of them dropping the rounds with trembling hooves as Jabari separates the fourth's head from his shoulders.

He moves fast, slitting the fifth raider’s throat, then turning and driving his sword through the heart of the sixth raider, pulling the blade free and letting the body drop to the ground, the only sound in the stadium his panting from the exertion.

“And now… His final challenge!” the announcer roared, as the sounds of a gate opening were heard, and the sound of two massive hoofsteps filled the air as a muscular form stepped out. Jabari swallowed nervously. A minotaur, with one very large sword in hand. No, not a sword, an oversized meat cleaver if anything else. And he looked like he knew how to use it.

Jabari ran to the left to avoid the massive swing, but was soon grabbed by one beefy fist as the crowd roared in approval. He found himself tossed towards a wall and he smirked as he rebounded off of it towards the minotaur.

The crowd gasped at what happened next, as Jabari’s blade met the minotaur’s cleaver. What happened next was… well, entirely predictable as the electricity from the shock sword traveled up the cleaver like a conductor and into the minotaur’s body. Jabari dived to the right as the minotaur fell forwards, and hit the ground with a massive thud.

“Forgive me but I don’t need to know about your painful life and all that crap, Jabari,” Crow replied, snapping him back to reality.

“Well, might as well see what she wants…” Jabari muttered to himself. “Probably should freshen up though, doubt ole Regina wants to see a zorse covered in blood and guts and all that.”

Crow sighed. “You’re being sent to look for Star Shooter? I can only guess as to what she wants,” He shook his head. “Come on clean up and let's go.”

Few moments later, a much cleaner Jabari -a tri-barreled magical shotgun on his back along with his zebra shock sword- walked towards the war room with Crow at his side.

“Silver, I brought the crazy bat-shit insane zebra.” Crow said as he mockingly transformed into a mouse rushing under the table.

“Zorse, learn the difference dumbass,” Jabari huffed as he pulled up a chair and began tending to his shotgun. “It’s not hard to learn, man…”

“Zebra shock sword… Don’t see one of those that often…” Calamity mused to himself.

“Family heirloom, I suspect…” Regina replied. “I’d imagine the Zebras in New Roam have some, but you’re not likely to find one in the Wastes these days.”

“Alright, Jabari. I am taking you off the search for Star Shooter. In doing so I will be leaving for the Hoof. I need to see what is going on for myself there.” Silver added

“So, no soul-sucking demons there?” Calamity asked. “Or is that what yer going to look for, see if the rumors Blackjack told us all about are more than just a pile of horseshit?”

“You do know Blackjack was a large drunk, right?” Kip deadpanned.

“Her reputation is… legendary.” Regina replied simply.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Right... anyway he’s all we can spare right now. It’s almost time for The Maze.. A local nest of Radscorpions to attack us,” he clarified. “Something they do now and again.”

Kip looked around nervously.

“Not exactly all we can spare… The ghoul, the one who wandered into town last week. She’s been getting antsy, wants to join the larger fight at hoof.” the teal mare commented.

“Wait, you don’t mean... “ Shadow trailed off nervously, and Kip nodded.

“Yes, I mean exactly that,” Kip said, placing an old and battered wood carved shield, with a trophy in the center of the table. “The Gray Ghost.”

As if on cue, something flew in through the window. A great stench filled the air, and Calamity let out a “By Celestia!” as he covered his nose. Four paws landed on the table, and a rotting satire of a griffon hen, as that was the only way to describe the sight, gazed around the room.

The griffon reached towards the old shield, and gazed at longingly, as she placed it in her saddlebags and whispered: “Been looking for that…”

“You’re… You’re him… it… Her…” Regina whispered in shock. “The Gray Ghost.”

At that, both Calamity and Jabari drew their weapons again. Silver Gunner glared at them harshly.

“Easy, she’s on your side, or have you not heard the rumors?”

“Yep, working with you guys. Can’t be flying solo forever, and these guys just want to keep to themselves, even if I told them time and again, isolationism is only going to get them killed!” the Gray Ghost exclaimed in a tone of exasperation.

“And I’ve told you, we have our reasons,” Kip replied with a tinge of anger, mixed with sadness as she looked down at the pup she was carrying.

“Well, so what is it exactly you need us to do, Madam President?” Jabari asked, eyes still watching the infamous Gray Ghost in front of him. “Please don’t tell us it’s just border patrol of someplace nobody really gives a damn about.”

“Maybe that, maybe something else. Depends on what’s needed to be done most at the time,” Regina replied. “Soldiers… Short order nowadays thanks to both Winter Breeze and Stormy Skies.”

The Gray Ghost let out a small growl at that last name, and unconsciously flipped out her claws muttering: “Scripture-quoting bastard. Had enough of this loyal dog that, and Pegasi superiority this…”

“Yeah, well, ya both may get yer chance to kill some of his little followers considering both they and Winter’s Enclave seem to be gearin’ up to go to war against each other. Hearin’ rumors that there’s a big attack planned, just don’t know where or when,” Calamity put in. “Believe me, Ah’ve been wanting to shoot some of Stormy’s little loyal dogs myself, given that they’re bringin’ shame to the pegasi name.”

“Well, if I’m going to be working with you,” the Gray Ghost began. “Best I introduce myself -Seriously, put away the gun eh? Only ponies these claws are going to be used on are those who preach Stormy’s scriptures- (She directed this to both Calamity and Jabari) hmm? Name’s Gabrielle, but you can call me Gabby. Everyone does.”

“Gabby huh?” Regina asked gruffly, extending a paw to her fellow griffon. “That’s a nice name.”

“Yeah… Don’t let it fool you though, not very sweet,” Gabby said in an attempt to seem tough, before she whispered sadly “...Not anymore at least…”

She then looked at Regina, straight in the eyes.

“T-tell me… A-are the rumors true?” Gabby asked, her voice quavering. “Is Scootaloo really alive?”

“Yeah, she is. Been a great help to-” Regina started, before she was pulled into a bone-crushing hug of relief by the ghoul griffon and former Cutie Mark Crusader.

“Oh thank Celestia!” Gabby exclaimed, tears strolling down her face. “I-I’d heard rumors she was alive from over the radio, and from Raiders, but… but I just didn’t…”

“Want ta believe they were true?” Calamity asked. “Afraid ya’d find out that they were just that, rumors, or worse… Lies?”

Gabby nodded, wiping away her tears. She had an image to maintain as the fearsome Gray Ghost of the West, and that image was starting to shatter like glass.

“Hey…” Regina said softly, dropping her tough “President of the NCR” image for the moment. “No need to keep up that false front you display to anyone else who meets you, I can tell already you were close friends. I know if I heard my brother was still alive, and found out they were more than just rumors… I’d be relieved too.”

“W-what happened to him?”

“Enclave soldier, killed him while we were trying to gather intel battle strategies on how they worked,” Regina explained. “Wished it was me instead of him, almost ending up costing me dearly…” she whispered, placing a paw on her breast, imagining a gaping wound there for a brief moment.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Gabby whispered, hugging Regina again. This time, not out of relief, but out of sympathy.

“It’s alright, got the bastard that killed my brother in the end. Gave him a face full of Little Gilda.” Regina smirked, and Gabby swallowed.

“Not sure I would have wanted to see that…” Gabby trailed off, looking rather green.

“Trust me, not pretty.” Regina clarified. “Really not pretty, not much left of him after I got through with him. Just a mess to clean up.”

In the background, Calamity muttered: “...Still can’t believe she used an anti-air cannon on one pegasus…”

Apparently, Shadow and Kip heard him and both winced in unison and shared a look of what could be described as either respect, or fear.

“Now,” Regina said, taking back her ‘Present of the NCR’ image as she looked at both Gabby and Jabari. “Are you ready for what you’re about to get into? You’ll be facing Enclave Soldiers, some of whom will be highly devoted to their cause, to the point of religious extremism.”

“Anything to clean up the wastes,” Gabby said, a smirk gracing her beak. “How’d that old speech by Princess Celestia go? Oh yes… We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in Equestria, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our lands, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!”

Calamity smirked and put a hoof on her shoulder. “Now that’s the spirit. May be a li'l ole griffon, but ya’ve got spunk that’s for sure.”

“Sadly, if half of what I’ve heard is correct,” Jabari began. “Spunk won’t be enough to win your war. Your war, not ours. I’m only defending this settlement, not anywhere else.”

When Gabby opened her beak to refute that, he continued. “Been born that way of thinking, that’s probably the way I’ll die thinking. Defend me and mine, that’s how I was raised.”

“...Clearly you need better parents…” Gabby muttered to herself quietly. Unknown to her, Jabari had heard him.

“...You may very well be right.” he thought.

Author's Note

Okay, first off, a huge thank you to so many people. First off, Megaskullmon for being my co-writer on this chapter, (And helping me build Jabari's character some) Eagle-Paladin of Shadows for writing Jabari's fight scene, and Rainbowsurvivor for suggesting the scene with Iron and Riptalon.

Now, the identity of the Gray Ghost is finally revealed, after months of mentions and small clues. Wasn't expecting this were y'all, I'll bet any of you, now. And she, along with Jabari will be the final additions to the main cast.

'Nother fun thing I liked about this chapter, aside from the world building, was Regina. I actually liked expanding on her character a bit more than RuinQueen did in Survivor's Guilt,
where Regina hardly gets any lines if I remember correctly.

Now, till next time, stay and be kind. And as always, thoughts and comments are appreciated.

Part 17: ...will be brought to the light

Mount Pleasant Island: Somnambula’s Light:

Unaware of the plight currently facing the rest of their company, Henri, Midnight, Target and Starglow were in the main section of the laboratory.

Target had kept her rifle trained on the ceiling vents and grating, her ears twitching every so often.

“Something wrong?” Midnight asked in concern, noting how nervous Starglow looked.

“Yeah, just keep hearing noises from the vents above, wonder if I should be concerned about it,” Target answered, her eyes looking through the scope of End of the Line. Out of the corner of his eye, Midnight noted the fact Target’s blue toned Pipbuck had gone into S.A.T.S. mode. “Could be radroaches, and you’re free to call me paranoid for this, but somehow I don’t think so…”

“You might be right, they very well could be radroaches,” Midnight commented, laying back on a chair and propping his hooves up against a terminal. His forelegs went behind his head, showing just how relaxed he was. “I mean, not much else could fit in those vents really, right?”

A rather loud screeching sound came from the vents, and Starglow trembled as she nervously went to Henri, who gave her a reassuring glance.

“It’ll be alright kid, trust me on this. Pinkie Promise,” she said reassuringly, and Starglow looked up at her nervously.

“Pinkie Promise?” Starglow asked nervously, hugging Henri’s leg. It would have been rather cute, in any other situation.

“Yeah, sure squirt. Cross my heart, and hope to fly. Stick a cupcake in my eye,” she replied, in a tone that sounded almost sisterly. She suspected if either Riptalon or Iron were here, they’d be cracking off jokes on how she did have a heart after all. Thank Gawd for that fact that they weren’t, otherwise, she’d never hear the end of it.

Another screeching sound came from the vents, and Henri inwardly wondered if that was a Pinkie Promise she’d be ever able to keep. She mentally growled, and noted if she ever met Twilight face to face, to shoot her right in the head and made sure she stayed permanently dead this time ‘round. No child deserved to be in war or this sort of environment, but lo and behold, thanks to a combination of stupidity and miscommunication, that’s where Starglow found herself.

“You know, I’d really like that Eyes Forward Sparkle system back now…” Target murmured to herself, as her eyes continued to watch the grating.

“Awfully loud for radroaches…” Midnight deadpanned, really not believing Target on the “radroach” excuse front.

“Maybe it’s mating season,” Target joked, in order to lighten the mood. “I’ve heard rumors they can get awfully loud during that particular time of year…”

“Oh Gawd above… I hope in her simulation, Starglow got the “Talk”, cause I sure as Hell ain’t giving it to her…” Henri muttered, facepawing to herself at the raunchy dialogue being tossed back and forth between her riflemen. “Shoot a raider or Enclave soldier dead, that I can do, but giving somepony the birds and the bees talk? No way in Hell am I doing that!”

At Starglow’s confused look as she listened to Target and Midnight, Henri sighed and groaned to herself, swearing silently and cursing Celestia and various other deities.

“I…. I uh… Oh, how do I say this?” Midnight muttered to himself losing his relaxed posture as he got up off his chair, and Henri shot him a pointed look.

“Well, if you’ve got something to say, spit it out!” she snapped at him. Midnight pressed his front hooves together in a nervous fashion.

“Well, not to start sounding paranoid or something, but shouldn't we consider the possibility something may have gotten inside this place… You know, other than rats and radroaches?” he asked, looking at his borrowed Novasurge Rifle and wondering if he should grab it. ...Just in case. Never hurt to be too careful, after all. Even if he had a distaste for those who used the weapon, -Or more accurately, it’s creators- Midnight couldn’t deny what it could do.

“I’m considering it…” Henri murmured, thinking over in her head if she should go for White Rose and Black Rose.

She then turned to a certain Sprite-Bot.

“Twilight, (Henri, or anyone else for that matter, failed to see Starglow’s face brighten up upon hearing that name) just asking here, but what are the chances something may have broken into this place?”

Twilight didn’t answer for the next few moments, as if she seemed to be considering the possibility worryingly enough. “You want me to be truthfully honest, or lie to you and spare you the fear?” she asked.

“Honest, please.” Target said, still keeping End of the Line trained on the ceiling vents and grates.

“Okay then…” Twilight replied, taking a deep breath. “Considering how many years have passed since the Balefire bombs dropped, and natural wear and tear over time… I’d say the chances of something managing to break in somehow are… Well, frankly pretty high,” she answered and Henri sighed to herself.

“Wonderful… I figured as much, I just didn’t want to hear it,” she muttered before turning back to Target and Midnight. “Keep those rifles of yours trained on the ceiling. Last thing we want is something dropping down and surprising us,”

“Believe me, way ahead of you on that front…” Target answered, as Midnight grabbed the Novasurge Rifle and pointed it at the ceiling. “Going to try a little experiment, now…” she continued, and then reached up into the grates with the makeshift bayonet she’d created with her serrated combat knife and soon, small droplets of green blood squirted out from the grating -Quite a bit landing in Midnight’s mane, much to his disgust- and a dying hiss was heard.

“What the hell…?” Midnight whispered, as Target pulled her gun from the ceiling and impaled on the bayonet -Henri had covered Starglow’s eyes with her paws as soon as the blood came down- was a small snake-like creature with a bone white head.

“Well, there’s your answer…” Target muttered. “Question is, what is it?”

“Never seen anything like it,” Midnight said as he creeped closer -Rifle in hoof- to inspect it. “And believe me, I’ve seen a lot of fu- (He quickly corrected himself when Henri shot him a look) Er, messed up stuff in the Wastes. Probably some sort of natural mutation of a lizard or snake forced to adapt to the environment at hoof,”

“Yes, I’d agree with you,” Target agreed. “But there’s one question I’d hate to ask…” she trailed off.

“And what’s that?” Midnight asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer. But he knew he was probably going to get it anyways. He wasn’t disappointed on that front.

“What if it were to evolve further? What would be the next step in it’s evolution?” she wondered to herself, and an eerie silence fell over the group at that.

Wheeltreads’ Camp

Meanwhile, unaware of the situation that was rapidly developing on Mount Pleasant Island, Regina and her group walked around the village in hopes of finding further support. But everywhere they looked, none was to be found.

“You're not going to get much help out of this bunch,” Jabari had warned, although in spite of this Regina wasn't going to give up quite so easily. “Like to keep to themselves, believe themselves safe in their little bubble if you will,”

“That’s a load of-” Regina began, with Gabby finishing for her.

“Bullshit? Yeah, I know it’s bull no matter how you look at it, but that’s the way things are around here. It’d take something major for things to change,” she said, sighing sadly to herself.

“Oh I am sure you could,” Crow calmly said. “You would just need to convince Silver Gunner.”

“Right, like that’s going to happen…” Jabari muttered in distaste, having had past experience talking to the robot. Like talking to a brick wall. Regina, while she observed the mostly gold colored Zorse, noted that the markings on his flank resembled swirls in some manner. They’d been marked with scars -Probably gained from his time in the Arena she’d heard so much talk about- but those markings on his flank seemed familiar, like she’d seen them somewhere before.

“Well, he is heading to the Hoof. To find Scootaloo, maybe she could convince him.” Crow replied.

“Going to take him a while, Scootaloo’s going all around Equestria dealing with Winter Breeze right now,” Regina replied. “So I doubt things will change here in the meantime, unless something major were to happen…” she muttered as she took to the skies in disgust, going off to clear her thoughts.

“Like whut?” Calamity put in, a trace of disgust in his tone. “The Enclave coming to call, walking right up to their doorstep and destroying their little slice of paradise?”

“Probably…” Gabby admitted sadly, with a shake of her head. Calamity let out a sad sigh of his own.

“Mind ya, not sayin’ this here isolationism is right, at least completely, but Ah can see where they're comin’ from,” he added, thinking back to that little pup held in that mare’s arms. He then glanced to his Pipbuck. “Loyalty, to me and mine, if y’all catch my drift. They’ve got families here, and some of ‘em, with very young foals and the like. If y’all excuse me for a second here fer a second for soundin’ like Winter Breeze, ask yerselves… What if yer parent went off ta war, and never came back? Next thing ya know, some member of the Applejack’s Rangers shows up on yer doorstep tellin’ ya yer wife or husband is dead and ya have to care for yer young child by yerself?” he asked. Nobody could really come up with an answer for that.

“...Yeah, that’s what Ah thought…” Calamity then sighed.

“Well then. I know what to do. I’ll release the Time Reaver’s.You know the giant worms from the time bog?” Crow asked, and everyone stared.

“The what…?” Gabby asked before quickly saying “No, strike that, I don’t even want to know…” and then she muttered to herself: “Just when I thought the Wastes were running out of ways to make me insane…”

Crow laughed. “Oh fun, ain’t it? But these worms don’t really harm anyone per see. They just show the past and maybe if you show the past or what happened in it, it just might work. Sometimes you need to see it, then show what might have happened. But I got another idea,” Crow suggested. “We have a full suit of Enclave armor still around here somewhere. Somepony should take and then wear it and kidnap a child right from under everyone’s noses.” Crow said, looking right at Calamity. “How about it Hot Shot?” Crow said smirking at Calamity.

“Ah’m sorry, but no. There are things Ah will not do, and kidnapping a child, even if it’s to get this damn town to pull the sticks out of their asses, is one of them.” Calamity refuted.

“Hey,” A voice called beside them. “I know a way to get them to help!”

Everyone’s eyes turned towards the new voice.

The voice belonged to a giant mare clad in trash made power armor. “I’m Peach Blossom, I’m… well, I’m well like you Hot Shot. Now I got some sway with my boss of the Junk Reapers. I can get him to convince the other raider groups here to help. Then Kip will have to help as well.”

“Ah still don’t like it, goes against the grain…” Calamity muttered.

“Listen Hot Shot,” Peach said sternly “There are things we don’t like to do. But for the greater good, you have to. “

Calamity sighed, and groaned to himself. He hated the phrase “Greater Good”, and everything that it implied. But eventually, after several moments of back and forth thought to himself, he gave in.

“Alright, fine,” Calamity sighed. “But the thing is, none of this can lead back to the NCR, as we all know, if Silver or any of the other leaders find out, any chances of an alliance with ‘em are done.”

Peach Blossom gave a nod. “Yes, I understand how they feel about the NCR. To them, it’s just another Enclave. But that’s sadly what they had to deal with. The first time they met the NCR., well… one of them tried to force them into it. Now, this was at the start of it. It didn’t go... well, suffice to say...” she trailed off.

“How… not well?” Jabari asked, not sure he really wanted to know. Although inwardly, knowing the policies around here, he suspected what he was about to be told.

“Jabari, remember those bones you saw? Cannonball and the other Rat Creepers ate them,” Crow put in, and Jabari swallowed nervously, looking rather green around the gills so to speak. “What do you expect? He wanted them dead. Cannonball is the king of Reaper Fields. They wanted the metal there. So they tried to take it by force. Yeah… they died.” Crow said chuckling, a rather dark smile plastered on his face.

“You see why I wanted to get out of this place after about a week of staying here?” Gabby whispered to Calamity, who only nodded. Inwardly, he was having doubts about allying with this group, and he suspected if Regina knew what went on here, she would be as well. He also noted, everytime someone spoke to Jabari, he flinched, as if someone was going to… No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

A soft gentle voice spoke out. “Jabari,” He looked up, and he saw his teacher, Deep Thought - yet another changeling- approaching. But, unlike Crow, this one looked purple and had pink eyes. All in all, it looked like a member of the late King Thorax’s hive really. “Are you okay?” He spoke softly.

“Is that a trick question?” Jabari deadpanned.

“Now now... What did I teach you?”

“Not to be a smart-ass…” Jabari mumbled, flinching yet again. Calamity looked at Deep Thought, and Jabari, as some really rather horrific conclusions came to the forefront of his mind. Of course, they were quickly wiped away by what happened next, although that didn’t mean he still didn’t have his suspicions.

Deep Thought calmly wrapped his wings around Jabari. “Little one I adopted you because... You needed love. I’m not Tiria. I can’t give the love she gave you. We all can’t, you did watch her die during giving birth to Crystal. That would harm many little minds.”

“You know, this is why I hate you, ya damn shrink…” Jabari snapped. “You think you can get inside my head, figure me out. Newsflash for you, that ain’t happening!”

Deep Thought could only smile. “Jabari, really? You’re trying this again. I’m not the one who whipped you. You keep acting like I am. That one is dead. Hanging above the cave. He will not return. Tiria did that for you remember? She even asked if it was wise for you to watch as she got revenge for you. Was it wise?” He simply asked.

Jabari let out a low growl as he gripped his sword, which crackled with electricity as he thought back.

“Oh... Free our heart’s... From our chains... Free our souls... From this cage. Please oh, Goddess of the past. Free us from this end. Oh please…” The sound of the whip cracking against each back was heard while they sang.

“Get back to work you maggots!! Wheeltreads is not asking for a song! He wants your asses to work!”

“Jabari… Please stay behind me.” His mother would say.

“Okay I have had enough of you!!” The warden grabbed the mare. The unicorn warden ghoul floated a knife in his magical aura. He then began forcing the mare onto her back hooves. “ Hold her good and tight boys!” he shouted, as several of his men rushed over.

The warden sliced the mare’s stomach open, in a spray of blood and gore. Removing the guts tossing them to Jabari. “EAT, you worthless Zebra trash.”

“I’m a Zorse…” Jabari whispered, not wanting to let the tears show.

“I don’t care what you are... you’re a half-breed a worthless toad!! Now be a good little trash heap and eat!!”

Jabari kicked the guts away. “N-No,” he said, his voice beginning to quiver, his head hung low and tears slowly dripping to the ground. Laughter began to echo around him. “I won’t defile my mother’s remains. I swear on my soul, you’ll-”

The warden simply laughed harder.

“Jabari,” His mother weakly said, using the last of her breath to speak. “Please… do what he said.. I want you alive my child… To see this bastard burn.”

And Jabari nervously reached for the entrails of his mother as he watched her close her eyes for the last time.

“Good little boy.” The ghoul patted his head and went off to his next victim. Time passed, and the body count only rose in height. But as they say… Karma was a real bitch. In Jabari’s case, it was quite literal.

Tiria, for how weak she looked, that was really far from the real truth. She still could beat the shit out of this warden. She used every part of her large body to beat him. “You worthless pony..." she growled out. "This is why I hate your species. I may love Kip and her family and those that Silver introduced me to. But… But you and your species are still the reason why we are in this hateful world.”

Her blue eyes glowed in righteous anger and fury. She was very hateful of the ponies and Zebras of old, and with good reason. “But you hurt children... You forced them to eat their parents. No… I am sorry ‘bout that. My mistake, your dead.” She said with a dark laugh.

She wrapped a rope around the warden. Looking to Jabari and Star Shooter who thankfully had her family still. “You two don’t have to watch this.”

“Yes… I want to see this. I promised my mother I’d watch this bastard burn.” Jabari snarled, with a hateful expression plastered on his face. It was really rather unnerving to see on a foal of his age, but there it lay.

“Come along then Jabari,” Tira requested, in a rather soft and mothering tone. “Give Star Shooter a hug. I don’t want her to see this. She may be older than you. But she is not ready to see this death.”

Holding the mare he considered a sister tightly in his hooves, he turned her head away, but he watched what happened next.

Something strange happened next. Tiria started to sing. While she -with a bit of help- got the warden onto the face of the cave. She started to stab spikes into the warden with the words of a very old hymn.

“Well you may throw your rock and hide your hoof, Workin’ in the dark against your fellow pony...” she sung hauntingly.

The warden screamed in pain from the spikes going into his body. She had no smile on her face. She had no glee. But she knew what needed to be done.

“But as sure as the howling dan- I mean Celestia, made black and white, what you do in the dark will be brought to the light…” Tiria continued to sing. Finally, it was over, and a meathook was driven through the warden’s mouth to finish the job…

Tiria came back down to look to Jabari. “Remember little guy.. I’m not going to be here forever. Remember everyone here loves you. Don’t you forget that, you understand?” she asked, going back to that warm motherly tone. “Silver… He loves you in his own way even if he can’t show it. Kip and Shadow, they will always be there for you. You just need to ask. Now go find your teacher. Or your father I mean. Deep Thought will be there for you. Always.” she said.

Back in the present day, Deep Thought looked Jabari directly in the eyes.

“What did she tell you that day?” He simply asked with a forgiving smile.

Jabari took a deep, shuddering breath, still quite uncomfortable with reliving his mother’s death. Finally, he answered.

“I am… loved,” he replied. During all of this, nobody had seemed to notice Calamity and Crow had vanished about 30 minutes prior.

“Now go talk to Kip and ask for help. Don’t beg, accept her death,” Deep continued. “Accept that she risked her life for you. Whatever you think you are, you are not worthless, understand?” he asked firmly.

“Alright… I’ll go see Kip, see if I can get help to put up a blockade around Manehatten. If any of the rumors I heard about what’s there are true, then the Enclave should strike there next.” Jabari theorized.

Soon, Jabari found himself at Kip’s residence, an old house in Manehatten suburbia. It was plain, covered in faded brown shingles and stucco white paint, with small vines creeping up the sides of the walls. Would have been like every other house on the block really, in its heyday. Bit dull maybe, but it would have been a comfortable home for a nice, good sized pony family to live out their lives happily.

Who knows, if the war hadn’t broken out, Kip or any of the other members of the camp might have been living here without the constant threat of death hanging over their heads. Perhaps even Tiria may have lived here -Possibly in a very different form than she ended up in- with her husband and child. Maybe even many children. But alas, that was not to be. Jabari sighed to himself in disgust, just another casualty of that damned war.

A path of cobblestones led up to it through the garden, with small potted flowers on the doorstep.

Inside the house, was a deluge of teal paint. Not ghastly, mind you, but just enough for a pleasant environment. A radio, sat on a cupboard, played a rather cheery tune from the mouth of Pinkie Pie of the Ministry of Morale, and her late wife Skystar of Hippogriffia. A duet, a love ballad it was said to them. They’d married before the Zebra war kicked into high gear, and Pinkie became addicted to the Party-Time Mint-Als. What happened during that period, when Pinkie became addicted and what became of their relationship, little was known and much could only be guessed. But chances were, like her relationship with Twilight Sparkle, it hadn’t ended happily.

“One small thing doesn't seem like a lot
One small thing, work with the time you've got
Soon, one small thing becomes two

“After two, perhaps another few
Then one small thing is not so small
One small thing can be the biggest thing of all.

“All right now, since you're here
Let's see what we can do
Swim with the flow until you go
Together, me and you
“I've got necklaces for everyfish
So what else do ya got?

“Well, we could play the bubblefish
You'll like this one a lot!

“One small thing, it's a good place to start…”

Walking around the small living room, was a tiny little puppy of ten years of age. Mostly brown, with black highlighting, taking after her father. Crystal, Tiria’s daughter.

Jabari smiled a bit -Not a vengeance-ridden smile like usual, but a genuinely pleased one. “...She reminds me so much of her mother, that smile. Makes me wonder what Tiria could have been like if she was less cynical, happier.” Jabari thought to himself.

In the corner of the room, sitting in a comfy armchair was Kip, keeping an ever watchful eye on Crystal’s movements.

The soft gentle voice of Kip spoke. “Come to keep me company while Cross Check is out trading his wares and weapons?”

“Actually, I have a request,” Jabari said. Kip raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” she asked.

Jabari cast a small smile towards the radio, and continued. “Just one small thing, really.”

“Go ahead Jabari,” Kip replied.

“Contingent of troops, just to keep an eye on Manehatten in case either Enclave strikes. You know it, and I know it. It’ll happen sooner or later. Can’t hurt to be ready. Plus…” he trailed off in thought.

“Jabari. I don’t trust the NCR. I feel they’re just as bad as the Enclave. But if this keeps us from having to deal with them again, I will do it but…” She turned her eyes to look at Jabari.

“Yes, I understand,” Jabari nodded, looking at Crystal. “But that’s what I was getting to. The Enclave, if they took Manehatten, we both know this little “Slice of paradise” (Here he used air-quotes) would be next on their shopping list.” he remarked.

“Yes, it would be,” She looked back to Crystal. Then back to Jabari. “Cannonball said the same. He even said he would do it without my okay. He said don’t tell me how to control my race, Kip. But I understand. If I can stop.. it.. from...” She stared at Crystal with a sad look in her eyes. “From losing… her again...”

Jabari was about to reach out to pull the sniffling Kip into a hug, but before he could do so, a soldier burst in. He was panting and sweating all over.

“Ma’am, it’s the Enclave! They’re here, and they’ve taken one of the children!” he shouted, and Jabari and Kip’s eyes widened in unison before they went for their guns. Jabari grabbed his shotgun and cocked it as it hummed to life and purple runes lit up all over it, magical energy flowing through the weapon. Meanwhile, Kip went for the cupboard and pulled out an SMG, with a silencer placed on the barrel.

“Stay here and keep watch for any more visitors,” Kip said to Jabari, looking at him pointedly as she loaded her weapon. “I’m going hunting. And if Crystal gets even the slightest scratch on her, the smallest bruise… Well, suffice to say you won’t like the outcome.”

Mount Pleasant Island: Somnambula’s Light:

Back with Henri and company, the sound of silence was broken by a muffled explosion coming from somewhere below the group, in one of the lab’s deeper areas. Then, a noise that could only be one thing. Gunfire. Couple that with the explosion of a probable grenade thrown by Riptalon, and only one conclusion was evident to Henri at that moment.

“...We’re not alone down here. Grab your weapons,” Henri stated before she barked out: “All of you, now!”

Nobody wasted a second in following her orders.

“Commander, what about…?” Midnight trailed off, looking at Starglow. Henri grimaced, she didn’t like it, but chances are the Enclave were probably close behind in tracking them down. That left only one option, even if it disgusted Henri for even considering it.

“She’s coming with us,” she stated, with more than a hint of distaste evident in her tone. “Way I see it, she’s safer with us, than just leaving her here for Gawd-only-knows-what to come and find her,”

“Surely you’re joking, right?” Midnight hissed out. Henri gave the darkly coated pony a “look”.

“Do I look like I’m joking, Midnight?” she growled out.

“But-” he started, and Henri sighed.

“Listen, I don’t like it as much as you do, perhaps even moreso, but I don’t see the great and good Princess (She said the first part in a tone of derision and disgust) Twilight Sparkle -Alicorn or not- coming here to save our asses anytime soon, so buck up and just keep her from getting shot, okay?” Henri asked, her voice coming out in a protective, -almost sisterly, Midnight would have sworn right then and there- growl. “And if she does get shot, with Celestia, Luna and Gawd as my witnesses, I’ll be making sure you’re next, are we clear?”

“Clear. Quite clear,” Midnight squeaked, with a rapid nod of his head. With that, the company headed downwards into deeper parts of the lab. At one point, Midnight muttered: “Shinu mae no meiyo…” with a tone of resignation.

“Where are we going, and what were those strange noises?” Starglow asked curiously, with a tinge of nervousness audible in her tone if you listened closely enough.

“Questing. Think of what we’re doing as an adventure,” Henri lied. “We’re…”

She looked at Midnight for suggestions, who mouthed “LARPing” back in return as he gripped his rifle tightly and scanned the corridors for threats. His Pipbuck’s flashlight was on its brightest setting. Metal floors creaked and groaned beneath their hooves and paws as the party continued downwards, and small droplets of water dripped from the ceiling into their feathers and manes.

“LARPing! Yeah, that’s what we’re doing! Saving two members of our party from a vicious monster!” Henri said, giving Starglow -Who seemed to believe her well enough- one of those half-truths.

“Mind if I tell a story?” Midnight asked out of the blue, just like that. Perhaps it was to relieve some of the tension in the air, or perhaps it was just because he wanted to build up some trust amongst the rest of the company. No-one could really say, actually. “Just to pass the time?”

“Ooh, I love stories!” Starglow exclaimed in excitement, clapping her hooves together as she did so. Although Henri would never have admitted it at the time, she thought it rather cute.

“Sure…” Henri groaned out. “Go ahead…”

“Well, back when I was just this little colt in a Stable, bout sixteen or so, there was this test we all had to take, to determine our place in the Stable and what sorta job we did while in it,”

“Wait, you’re a Stable-Dweller?” Target asked in surprise. “How come you never told us?”

“You never asked,” Midnight replied simply. “Came from Stable 26, same as that Ruby Starlight mare I heard a few things about. Now, if I may be permitted to continue? One of the questions on this test was, and I quote: “A crazed Stable scientist runs up to you and yells “I'm going to stick my quantum harmonizer in your photonic resonation chamber!” How do you respond?” Not joking, those are the exact words on the question.” he continued.

Target burst out laughing at that.

“No, they seriously asked you that?” she barely managed to reply through her laughter “What’d you answer?”

Midnight, with a small smirk, leaned over and whispered the answer in Target’s ear: “Yeah? Up yours too, buddy!” and that set off another wave of laughter from the mare.

“Wait, wasn’t Stable 26 one of those who had no government, and if I remember correctly -And this is all just hearsay mind you,” the former Steel Ranger continued. “The Overmare, Jade something or other, choose a stallion or mare to go out for one year and report back on what happened to the Wasteland, and its status,”

“Well, you’re correct on that front. And if the status happened to be bad -as in war with Enclave bad- or the pony sent out never returned after the year had passed, the door would be closed up tight, and never opened again,”

“So, what happened? I can’t imagine status is particularly good right now, really,” Target deadpanned.

“I sorta… maybe broke out of the Stable. Got a friend of mine to open up the doors, and made a break for it. Living underground, while you know there’s a war waging just from Pipbuck transmissions, tends to make you… antsy,”

“Wow, this LARP of yours is really well thought out,” Starglow whispered in admiration. “Backstories for every one of you and everything!”

Midnight and Target shared a sad look between them, if only this really was just LARPing. Oh, how they both envied and pitied Starglow’s innocence in everything.

“Anyways, as one can imagine, I’m Persona non grata in that Stable, really…” Midnight trailed off.

“Just asking, out of curiosity,” Henri commented, now actually genuinely curious about things. “When you finished this test, what job did they end up assigning you?”

Midnight mumbled something, and Henri raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that…”

“...Garbage disposal,” Midnight grumbled and Target burst out laughing, though not for the reason you’d expect. It wasn’t humiliation, it was more like disbelief.

“Midnight Radiance, almighty janitor!” Target proclaimed, making it sound as if the title she’d just given the coal-black stallion was the name of a superhero like you got in those comic books of old. “The trash will begin to climb up, and the accumulated filth will pile up to their knees, and all the other Stable-Dwellers will look up and shout “Save us!”... and I'll look down and whisper “No.”

“...You have a really strange sense of humor, you know that, right?” Midnight smiled, chuckling a little at Target’s joke.

“Hey, least I made you feel better about your position they gave you, right?” she asked, and Midnight smiled again.

“Yeah, suppose you did that…” he commented.

“Hey, been meaning to ask,” Target said as they took some steps downward, the sounds of gunfire drawing closer by the minute. “...Well, actually not me, but it’s Iron or whatever the heck his real name is, who’s been meaning to ask.”
“Oh, what’s that?” Midnight replied.

“Bout your butt tattoo, as he called it. No, I’m not joking. That was what he said,” Target replied, in a tone of absolute seriousness.

“...Why do I get the feeling that he was trying to flirt with me, in his own way, when he called my Cutie Mark that?” Midnight sighed, rubbing his temples with a hoof.

“Maybe, but it’s also possible, if you believe he really doesn’t know anything about his past, that he really doesn’t know what a Cutie Mark is,” Target said, with a small shrug of her forelegs.

“Okay, fair enough,” Midnight answered. “Family heirloom, best way of putting it. Passed down through generations, really rather odd for a Cutie Mark. Then again, Cutie Marks are strange by nature really. I point to the original Cutie Mark Crusaders and their shared shield Mark as an example. Mind you, it’s never exactly the same, but the Mark generally is what you see. A red and black circle, with tomoes in it somewhere. First appeared on my great… Well, not sure how many greats at this point really, but it first appeared on my ancestor Steel Sword, and kept passing on down through the family tree,” he explained.

“Steel Sword…” Target murmured to herself, rubbing her chin with a hoof in thought. “Know I’ve heard the name before somewhere…”

“Yeah, I could have sworn that someone mentioned it before, but…” Midnight trailed off before his eyes widened in shock. “Now I remember! Iron… Iron, he came across a recording left by Steel’s brother Iron,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Iron, he died defending old Appleloosa from Zebras…”

“And Iron mentioned -And I just happened to overhear this- that he’d get the recording to any of Iron -The dead one’s- descendants, if he found them,” Target whispered in shock. “A fool’s endeavor maybe, but it looks like he found one staring him in the face, and he never even realized it…”

“...Guess he’s not that terrible of a stallion after all, former Enclave soldier or not,” Henri whispered, voicing everyone’s thoughts at the moment.

“Yeah…” Midnight murmured. “Owe him more than a few apologies, I think we all do…” he trailed off, as he opened up a door and was greeted with quite the sight. He, and the rest of the foursome were on a catwalk above a rather large space, where down below, Riptalon and Iron were blasting away at a giant two-legged version of the serpent Target had killed earlier.

Midnight and Target shared a look as the Skullcrawler screeched out in rage as a blast from Vox Populi hit it in the eye.

“Hey, Target?” Midnight asked, with a nervous swallow. “You know that evolved form we were talking about? ...Think we just found it.”

Author's Note

Okay, first off... Huge thanks to Megaskullmon for helping me write out the scenes in Wheeltreads' camp, and I apologize if the death of Jabari's mother (And what happened afterwards) was a bit... much. Same with the death of the Warden, though I doubt anyone will really mourn him.

Also, apologies towards RuinQueen if I got any of the facts about Stable 26 wrong. I only read the prologue and the first chapter of Wasteland Jewel, from where Ruby Starlight (And Xiraia actually as well) hails from, really so mistakes probably were made somewhere.

Something I also want to note, is a cut scene. Basically, this scene, which still may make it in, was a huge number of the younger Skullcrawlers dropping from the ceiling onto Henri and company and trying to eat them with Starglow being forced to pull out her pistol and shooting them, thereby destroying the charade entirely. For the conversations that popped up in the last third or so of the chapter, I cut it.

Also, Midnight during the GOAT Test? Totally me in Fallout 3.

As ever, comments and thoughts are appreciated.

Part 18: A Matter of Trust

Wheeltreads’ Camp:

Kipkipe -Submachine gun in hoof- gathered all the guards and troops they had in this little community to search for the little one that was kidnapped by the Enclave.

“Leave no stone unturned. We may have three former Enclave members working with us in this community, but they agree to killing this one that kidnapped the child,” she barked out.

Silver Gunner stood far away from the group looking towards Cannon Ball. “I have a fear this is not going to end well Whiskers.”

Cannon just stood there looking down at his robotic friend. “Nothing ever ends well Silver. Even something like this. It will never end well. We named this camp after Tiria then we stay so war-like.. I have to ask… Would this be what she would have wanted if she was still alive?”

The robotic pony gave a nod. “No, I think she would be frowning. Disgusted with us, probably. Star Shooter is missing and here we are... So upset over the Enclave.”

Gabby, who was sitting on a perch above them frowned to herself in thought. “Bit convenient, isn’t it? Everybody has this huge argument on not getting involved in the war with the Enclave, and then they show up on the camp’s doorstep, as it were…”

Deep Thought looked around and he yelled out. “Crow!?! Where are you?!” The teacher changeling that kept watch over the younglings flew past Gabby. “Crow!” he shouted out again, at the top of his lungs.

“...He’s gone off to do something foolish, hasn’t he?” Gabby deadpanned, as she landed beside him, a knowing look in her eyes. Despite having only been in the camp for a week, she’d already gotten a good read on Crow, and found him rather reckless and rash.

Deep Thought sighed to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. Wasn’t the first time he’d done so when dealing with that Changeling and his particular form of idiocy. “He said that he needs to help convince Kip into getting into this war. But if I know Crow -And I do- he has gone off and he’s doing something stupid,” he whispered back to her.

“Yes, well to get you bunch off your asses and join the war effort, or at least keep an eye on Manehatten, stupid may be required…” Gabby muttered, before she took flight.

Kip yelled out again. “It’s high time for us to join this war. Keep an eye on Manehatten!” She yelled out. “But first we find the child that this Enclave soldier took from us. Don’t kill him though, I wish to speak to him myself!”

Privately, Kip suspected something was off with this whole scenario. She knew they had an old suit of Enclave armor. She knew the NCR was opposed to them just being bystanders in this whole war, and she knew Calamity was quite vocal about his displeasure for that. She knew that all of this was too convenient, too contrived. But anger? Fear? They often, quite sadly, overtook rational thought.

The problem was, of course, not all of the camp inhabitants shared the same views as her on not killing the lone soldier. Children, they were sacred to them, and they hated the Enclave just as much as anyone else in the Wastes, perhaps even moreso.

“I think it’s high time somebody does something to stop this from getting too crazy, Cannon...” Silver opened the back of his body and he lifted out his shotgun and aimed it up high into the air. Firing as many shots as he could to get all eyes trained on him.

“Now that we broke our vow of not getting into this war,” he began. “ I want you all to think about this and think about it real hard. We have an old suit of Enclave armor. Crow is missing, so is Deadshot!”

An almost skeletal figure, dressed in all black attire wandered through the crowds, and reached into his coat and pulled out four tarot cards. He then tossed those same four tarot cards from his hoof before vanishing as quickly as he came. One landed in front of Kip, the other in front of Silver. They were of the King of Wands and Knight of Wands varieties.

One, the one landing in front of Silver was upright. The other, the one that landed in front of Kip, was lying facedown. Reversed.

As for the Knight of Wands cards, an upright one landed in front of Silver while a reversed, facedown one landed in front of Kip.

“Now, hopefully, if they’re as intelligent as they think they are…” The Dealer thought to himself, tilting the brim of his hat down over his face to hide it as he vanished back into the shadows from whence he’d came. “They’ll decipher the meanings of those cards and learn. If not… Well, their loss. Try to teach, but not everyone’s willing to learn.”

Shadow the griffin rolled his eyes at this. He spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. “Of course they’re missing. Knowing that fool Crow after the Iron Wolf Project trying to kill him and then us burying him alive. I doubt his mind has been healed after all of that,” he commented. “Of course he’s going to do something crazy.”

Kip sighed to herself as she picked up the two cards, and held them in her hoof and studied them intently. “...The Hell?” she thought to herself before tossing them aside. Not like they made much sense to her anyways.

“Kip?” Silver asked as he approached her. His friend looked clearly rattled. “Something wrong?”

“No…” Kip lied. “It’s… It’s nothing.”

Silver Gunner raised an eyebrow, not believing her for a moment, but left it alone. His thoughts turned to Calamity and Crow, he knew they had the best of intentions, but the problem was they were getting the entire camp all riled up, and hungry for Enclave blood.

He then let out a soft chuckle, and then smirked. So that was their game. Deadly as it was, he had to admit Crow -After all, he doubted Calamity would have come up with this, given his moral code- had a good plan. Knocked the arrogance of this entire camp down a few pegs, stop them and their isolationism policy by showing how flawed it was. He chuckled, that magnificent bastard.

Speaking of Calamity, currently he -Clad in old and rusted Enclave armor- was running through the streets of the encampment, a tiny teal filly strapped onto his back. He sighed to himself, this went against every fiber of his being, really.

“Damnit Crow, couldn’t ya have come up with a better plan than this?” he swore silently. “Seriously, kidnapping a child in full Enclave armor, under ta noses of an entire community which hates the Enclave like a farmer hates a fox in their henhouse? ...This isn’t a plan, it’s a suicide mission!”

A hoof tapped Calamity’s head. “Almost there Deadshot,” Crow said, literally from the mouth of a babe. He was the “Child” Calamity had kidnapped. “The way out is close. Just a quick sprint ought to do it.”

“Provided, of course, they don’t have somethin’ to say about it…” Calamity deadpanned, gesturing ahead of him. Ahead, was a familiar unicorn mare, armed to the tooth.

Bulwark lifted up her combat shotgun in her magic aura, coating it golden. The scared unicorn mare fired before even speaking. “Stop!” she shouted, as the shotgun fired off a thunderous blast.

Calamity dodged to the left and pulled out a small magical energy pistol he’d found on the armor. He’d disregarded Oathsworn for the time being, given how recognizable it was. Firing off a small singular shot, he knocked the combat shotgun from Bulwark’s grasp.

Crow smirked. “Deadshot Calamity indeed.” he thought.

Bulwark snarled, and tackled Calamity to the ground as the “Child” rolled away.

Bulwark used her hooves to try to smash the armor. She didn’t care who was inside at the moment. She just wanted blood, and she wanted it now. “Get up! Fight me hoof to hoof! Or is that just beneath an Enclave soldier?” she asked tauntingly.

“Naw, Ah just don’t want to hurt a lady.” Calamity replied politely.

Now, if Bulwark was in a more rational state of mind, she might have recognized that voice. Alas, she wasn’t.

“I’m no lady…” Bulwark growled out and socked Calamity across the jaw again. ”Now surrender or I will break you open!”

“Please, Ah’ve heard better threats from Raiders…” Calamity deadpanned, catching the next punch with his own hoof.

“I bet that’s all that would take you seriously Enclave trash!” Bulwark hissed, the unicorn mare grabbing Calamity with her magic, and tossing him aside. “Why… Why doesn’t he even bother to fight back?” she asked herself.

Calamity sighed and shook his head and extended his wings as he flew forwards towards Bulwark.

“Really didn’t want to have ta do this, but you’re leaving me no choice in the matter…” he muttered to himself as he collided with the unicorn mare sending them tumbling and rolling in the dirt, dust, and sand being kicked up and tossed about by the winds.

Bulwark being the well-trained fighter she was, (Well not as good as Deadshot.) she smacked her hooves into the armor hurting herself in the process. Her forelegs started to bleed from the smacking her hooves into the armor.

Something then tackled Calamity from out of nowhere, a mostly brown feathered griffin with white head-feathers wearing the formal attire of the NCR’s President.

Calamity quickly kicked Regina off him, -Whispering an apology as he did so- and scrambled to his hooves.

“Great, just what Ah needed…” Calamity thought to himself, as he pulled out his pistol, with Regina pulling out hers and Bulwark grabbing her shotgun with the three in a classic Mexican standoff.

Nobody seemed intent on giving in, but nobody seemed intent on firing either. Everyone was just waiting for someone else to fire the first round.

Teal magic wrapped around the Enclave armor. The magic wound up slowly removing the helm from the Enclave armor and tossing it to the ground. Weapons were tossed aside as well.

“You did it Deadshot you got us to think,” Kip snarled out angrily. Now I never want to see you here again. Madam President you will get your help. But keep him far away from here!”

“Calamity…” Regina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a claw. “Did you really have to resort to this?”

“No, he didn’t, Jabari convinced me…” Kip snarled. Then she stared at the little filly, her eyes widening in recognition as the pieces finally fell into place. There was only one resident of this entire encampment who was willing to do something this bold. “Crow!”

The little filly quickly changed “her” form to that of the changeling’s. “I’m in trouble..” He squeaked out, like a little child whose hooves had been caught in the cookie jar, as it were. If it were any other situation, it would have been almost comical.

Kip snarled, completely losing her cool and got dangerously close to Crow’s face and looked him directly in the eyes. As much as he wanted to, Crow couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “Crow, you’re banished for the time being. Go to the Hoof and prove yourself again,”

“Now hold on a minute,” Regina said, trying to play Tirek’s advocate as it were. “Isn’t this all a bit harsh? I mean, here you are, with your heads stuck up in your asses believing that the Enclave won’t come for you and that you’re safe in your little bubble, and here Calamity proved the exact opposite,” she remarked. “Now, I’m not defending his actions in the slightest, as they’re completely overboard, but it seems to me you needed a harsh wake-up call. Crow and Calamity just happened to be the ones to deliver it,”

Kip sighed, looking away a moment. Looking up towards the statue of her friend, and sighed to herself in self-disgust. She began taking several deep breaths to calm herself, knowing she was acting just like Tiria did once. “Crow,” She said softly. “Please go to the Hoof and keep us informed of what is going on. Madam President, we will protect Manehatten. And if it comes to it, we have to fight we will,”

Regina sighed, and rubbed her temples. At least some minor victory had come out of all this.

“If this was it, you could have just told us the truth here,” Kip continued. “Really, we know they will come. Why do you think we stay here?” She sighed looking away. “There is more here than a community. Wheeltreads was hiding something. His legacy, if you will. We’re guarding whatever that is.”

“Right, and he was such a respectable pony…” Crow muttered in distaste.

“If his journal is true Crow, he’s lived during the war,” Kip added. “He knows the horrors and atrocities ponies are willing to commit in the name of their countries. Besides, we’re spread far too thin as it is to wage a full-on war against the Enclave.”

“Which is why you need us,” Calamity argued. “Y’all may not like us, but you and Ah both know ya can’t hold out against the full might of both Winter Breeze and Stormy Skies if they came to call. It’s a matter of trust, ya see.”

Kip scoffed. “Yeah, and how are we supposed to trust you after this little stunt?” she asked him, in a biting tone of voice.

The sound of heavy hoofsteps came up from behind them. The sound of metal hooves against the solid pavement. “We trust because we must. Because Logic tells us to,” Silver Gunner put in. “Remember Logic is all we have when it comes to these things. So Deadshot, you will be welcomed here as much as you wish.”

“But Silver...” Kip tried to counter but Silver just stared at her with his empty emotionless orbs that barely passed as eyes.

“I have a journey to follow,” he stated in a tone that left no room for argument. “The Silver Gunner shall walk. Now if you excuse me, I must follow that path.”

Kip sighed to herself. “I have known him most of my life. Enough time to know not to argue with a robot.”

“Well, suppose it best we be moving on out of here now…” Calamity muttered. “We’ll just take Jabari and go, won’t be darkening your doorstep anytime soon, Ah promise.”

“He’s babysitting Crystal. I’ll go talk to him.” Kip replied before heading off back to her home up the ruined war-torn streets.

It wasn’t long before she found herself walking up the cobblestone path back up to the doorstep and then turning the handle.

But to her surprise, she found Jabari sitting in an armchair, rocking the young Crystal to sleep. Odd thing was about her kind, they aged much slower than normal ponies so mentally, Crystal was at the age of a little toddler at most. The lullaby, it was an old song, one that Deep Thought had taught him during one of their therapy sessions. Despite his many other flaws (Self-Perceived or otherwise) as it turned out, the zorse was a surprisingly good singer.

“I can't see where you comin' from
But I know just what you runnin' from:
And what matters ain't the “who's baddest” but
The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby

“And you feel like you feelin' now
And doin' things just to please your crowd,
When I love you like the way I love you,
And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause

“This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call “home.”

“This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call “home.”..”

“Jabari.” Kip sounded out in a very gentle voice, just as Crystal’s eyes began to close and Jabari sat her down in a nearby crib. He looked up at Kip, hearing her voice.

“Yes?” He whispered, trying to keep his voice low and not disturb Crystal.

“Come outside,” Kip said softly, heading back outside of the house.

Jabari nodded, but not before giving Crystal one last look, and kissing her on the forehead whispering: “Sleep well, kid.”

Kip waited outside. She watched the sky like Tiria did on her final days.

“Something’s up, isn’t it? Heard gunfire, assume our guest was “Dealt with”?” Jabari asked, walking up behind Kip, resting his hooves on the front lawn and watching the sun set over the horizon. It was beautiful, in a way, casting a red and gold glow over the nearly deserted suburbs of Manehatten.

“Crow and Deadshot were the guests,” Kip growled out, a trace of sadness in her tone. “Pulled the entire rug right out from under us. Calamity dressed himself up in an old suit of Enclave armor, without Regina’s knowledge apparently, while Crow posed as a child. Wanted to knock some sense into us, show us that when the Enclave comes, they’ll take more than just our freedom.”

“Yeah, how’d that work out for them?” Jabari asked, having a feeling he already knew.

“Well, we will protect what we can,” Kip continued “But Crow has been banished to the Hoof till he proves we can trust him again.”

Jabari watched the skies, and swore he saw an insect-like form head west, towards the direction of Hoofington.

“Bit harsh if you ask me,” Jabari commented. “Know this may sound treasonous to the higher-ups, and you probably, but Calamity may have had a point. This isolationism, as much as I understand it, (Here, he cast a glance back towards the house) will probably get us killed one day…”

“Silver Gunner was right all along,” She said softly, but loud enough for Jabari to hear. The zorse chuckled softly to himself.

“Generally is, isn’t he?” he replied.

“Jabari,” Kip looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Please come back to us.”

“Believe me,” Jabari replied, giving her a hug before he sheathed his shocksword and placed his shotgun on his battle saddle. “As much as I hate this Celestia-forsaken place, wouldn’t want to leave you alone to die… mom.”

Kip starred at Jabari. Her eyes full of more tears. Kip hadn’t cried this much since Crossfire left with their daughter to teach her trade. ”Jabari...you’re going to make me slap you again aren't you?” She smiled weakly.

“Probably,” Jabari chuckled weakly and gave her one last hug, before he started for the station where he found Regina and Gabby talking, griffon hen to griffon hen. Calamity rested nearby, Oathsworn on his back once more.

“Ahem..” A robotic voice sounded out, and Jabari whirled around to face it. He drew his shocksword on instinct, but his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the owner.

“Silver? W-What are you doing here?” Jabari stuttered out in surprise. He once wondered how a robot did stealth. The answer apparently was very carefully.

“I’m here to see you off, just before I head to The Hoof. Now i’m not going to say something. Will you listen?”

“Y-Yes.” Jabari stuttered out, and if he was stunned before, well...

“I’m proud of you. That’s it. Take care.” Silver said, before heading off in his own direction leaving Jabari speechless. For Silver to show any form of emotion towards anyone, let alone pride, well to say it was a rare thing was being generous about it.

“Proud of me… Proud of me?” Jabari repeated in his head. “Proud of me for what?”

Nearby, as Jabari walked onto the train, Regina fished out a pair of familiar weapons, two Hellhound claw knives and handed them to Gabby.

“These are…” she whispered in shock, remembering their owner from Regina’s story.

“Yeah, they’re Kage’s. I’m not a knife user by trade, prefer guns honestly, but I think it’s high time they get some use,” Regina confirmed. “Storm’s on the horizon, after all. And way I figure it, you’re going to need them. Griffon claws are sharp yes, but don’t think they’re quite sharp enough to cut through Enclave steel.”

Gabby smirked. “I’ll use them well. I’ll make your brother proud. Fast and swift, that’s how I’ll be,” she said, before the steam whistle blew. “Oh, that’s our cue!”

As she got settled in, she found Jabari looking out the window longingly.

“Something wrong?” Gabby asked in concern for the young zorse. She sighed sadly when she looked into his eyes. They’d seen far too much blood for someone his age. Kid like him, he should be out enjoying himself with his friends, making mischief and that kinda thing, not fighting a war. Just another casualty of the Zebra/Equestria war, she thought sadly to herself.

“It’s just…” Jabari said, as he leaned out the window and watched the small settlement become smaller and smaller with each passing moment, becoming just another part of Manehatten’s suburbia. “Well, leaving your home, the place you grew up in for good or for ill, for the first time, it’s… it’s just not something you can put into words, you know?”

“Yeah…” Gabby said, the now ghoulfied griffin said, giving him a small comforting nuzzle. “I’ll tell you this, leaving Griffonstone for the first time, to travel to Ponyville all those centuries ago, scary feeling. Mind you, I was excited as well as there was a whole new world in front of me, but at the same time, frightened. Didn’t know what to expect, and yet…”

“You still did it anyways…” Jabari said in realization, finishing the sentence for her.

“Yeah, treated it as an adventure,” Gabby smiled wistfully, and wiped away a tear at happy memories long since past. One unusual meeting, and three fillies who were all too willing to help a griffon in need.

“Know who you are? Know who you are?! Why, I've heard about you from everypony in Ponyville! I'm so excited to meet you, I could just explode! I'm Gabriella, but you can call me Gabby since we're friends now! Pleased to meet ya!”

“Sounds like a challenge! And who could be up to it but the world-famous Cutie Mark Crusaders? Cutie marks! It's in your name and everything, right? Right?! Right?! Now I have to deliver Gilda's letter to Rainbow Dash. I bet by the time I get back, you'll have it one hundred percent figured out! Toodles for now! Whee-hee-hee! Gonna get my cutie mark!”

“Oh! Is that all? You had me worried for a second. I-I mean, there's a first time for everything, right? And she didn't say it was impossible, right?

“Uh... I don't know. Maybe it means my purpose is, uh, helping Zecora with potions. That was the first thing I tried. I guess it just took some time to appear. But here it is!”

“Yup... That's the one. I guess the one thing I'm really not good at is faking things.”

“Gabby, finding your special purpose doesn't have to be about being good at something. It's about feeling good about something inside.”

“And it looks like your destiny is a whole lot like ours – helping others. And you don't need a symbol on your flank to know that.

“After all, you're a Crusader now. Crusaders forever?

“Crusaders forever!”

“Crusaders Forever…” Gabby repeated mournfully, as she took out a old and battered wooden shield and tightened her grip on it as if were a lifeline. Sure, most of them were dead now -All except for one- but that didn’t mean their legacy was dead as well. “Somewhere… Somewhere out there, I’ll bet someone’s carrying on that legacy…”

“Adventure… Yeah, I’ll treat it like that, and I’ll have my faith to guide me…” Jabari replied, with a soft smile.

“Faith huh?” Gabby asked -A certain set of Hellhound claw knives laying beside the shield- as the train tracks rattled beneath them. “Well, whatever floats your boat.”

As she whispered that, Jabari began to hum to himself...
“Someone who's there
Feeling unknown
And you're all alone
Flesh and bone

“By the telephone
Lift up the receiver
I'll make you a believer
Take second best

“Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess
I will deliver
You know I'm a forgiver

“Reach out and touch faith
Reach out and touch faith…”

Mount Pleasant Island: Somnambula’s Light

Disturbed, that was probably the best way to describe Midnight’s emotions as he leaped down towards Iron and Riptalon and fired off shots from his Novasurge Rifle into the Skullcrawler’s hide.

Just looking into those cold, blinking pure black pupils made him want to shudder in disgust. Evil, pure evil, that was the only way to describe what filled those eyes.

“So, where’d you dig this thing up?” Midnight asked, as Riptalon refilled Lawgiver’s ammo and fired another shot into the creature’s hide.

“It… It sorta found us, actually.” Iron commented, and fired off a series of shots. A long tail whipped out in what had to be the blink of an eye and slammed into him, sending him flying into a wall.

“Iron!” Riptalon shouted, before he and Midnight leaped out of the way as the creature lunged and nearly bit them in half with it’s jaws. Problem was, in such a confined space, there wasn’t a lot of room for movement, and this thing had to take up half of the area by itself.

Riptalon leaped onto the back of the Skullcrawler, and dug his claws into its hide drawing blood. With a long, ear-splitting shriek, the Skullcrawler shook itself, flinging Riptalon off. Lurching forward, its tongue slide out of its mouth flicking at the air slowly. A sudden burst of speed and it leaped over a counter and disappeared from sight.

“O-Okay… I’m not liking this LARPing anymore!” Starglow whimpered out.

“Yeah… We sorta lied to you. This isn’t LARPing, kid much as I hate to say it,” Target said, as she pulled out a grenade and moved to fire on the Skullcrawler with her sniper rifle, only to find it had vanished. “...This, this is the real deal.”

The creature gurgling, hissing and rattling sounds filled the room, bouncing off the corners with no clue as to its whereabouts. From the left came a tap of a claw, then from the right was a flash of movement. The group stayed close together, unable to pinpoint the source of either sound or movement.

Target went for her rifle, on pure instinct and clutched it in her hooves. “Semper Invicta…” she repeated to herself, as a calming measure. The Steel Ranger mantra.

Drip. Something hit her head, followed by another, and another. Daring to glance upward, she was met with the beast’s cold dead eyes, glaring down at it. It’s head twitched to the side, its jaws slowly opening. It hung from the ceiling, poised to strike like a snake.

“Oh shit…” she muttered, as she looked upwards, and Henri pulled out her pistols and fired shot after shot into the creature’s skull.

“Starglow, that energy pistol… It’s not a toy! It’s the real thing!” Henri shouted in fear as she realized her weapons fire was doing jack-squat. Reluctantly, Starglow reached for her pistol, and fired off several orange energy bolts into the creature’s mouth as it screeched in rage, points of weakness showing up on her PipBuck.

“Er… Don’t know if this means anything, but my mini-terminal… It’s showing several spots inside the creature’s mouth that seem to be important!” Starglow whimpered.

“Good, that’s something at least…” Henri muttered, before her eyes widened. “Move it!”

The Skullcrawler leaped down towards them, and smashed right through the catwalk and sent all three tumbling down into the lab below. It lashed out with its tongue, wrapping Henri up and pulling her towards its mouth. One quick shot from End of the Line, and the creature screeched out in pain as it dropped Henri on the ground. The tongue had been cut clean through by the shot, the severed piece laying a few feet away,

“Oh… So glad you could join us…” Midnight snarked as he readied his rifle.

“Very… funny…” Henri growled, as she shook herself clean. “Ugh, probably never going to be clean again…”

“Really, that’s your biggest concern right now?” Target asked, as she reloaded her rifle. Suddenly, she was tackled to the floor by Riptalon, who shot the Novasurge rifle clean out of Midnight’s hooves with a blast from Lawgiver.

Target keenly noted that Riptalon’s eyes were now a coal black, like the creature’s. The Skullcrawler’s eyes shone with an otherworldly purple gleam and it’s movements slowed to a crawl. A low buzz filled the air, strange wrobbling lights moving around its suddenly transparent skull.

“Kill… Slaughter…” Riptalon hissed out, in a guttural, animalistic tone of voice.

“By Celestia and Luna…” Henri whispered as she regained her bearings and Midnight picked himself up off the floor. Just in time as well, as Riptalon lunged at them both with his combat knife several times. Henri blocked the blows with a knife of her own before headbutting Riptalon making him stagger back.

Suddenly, for just the briefest of moments, Riptalon’s eyes returned to their normal light grey shade.

“No… I’m not going to… I’m not going to let you win! I’m not going to just kill and slaughter on a whim!” he whispered to himself, and that struck a chord with Midnight.

“Not going to kill and slaughter on a whim… But… But that’s what he’s wanted for, killing an entire platoon of NCR soldiers! So why…?” He thought to himself, but didn’t have time to think much more on the matter as Riptalon’s eyes went pure black again and he lunged for the Midnight who took out a small kunai knife to fend off the strikes from Riptalon’s blade.

Suddenly, a shot rang out, and Riptalon’s knife went flying from his grip, and Iron held his rifle, barrel smoking before he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Midnight took the chance he was given, and bucked Riptalon clean across the room. That buck seemed to snap him back to his senses briefly, and he grabbed a surgical knife from a nearby table.

Blood flew, and Henri covered Starglow’s eyes as Riptalon stabbed himself clean through the paw with a growl of: “Have some of this, you bastard… Try and control my mind!”

The Skullcrawler, as if feeling Riptalon’s pain, screeched out in anger and struck, one of it’s arms sending Riptalon clean across the room into Henri’s arms.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” she said. “Fairly stupid move of yours, you know that right?”

“Yeah…” Riptalon grimaced out in pain, blood dripping from his paw. “Going to regret that move later on… I can say that much. Probably severed a few nerves, and ripped into the muscle.”

“Can’t fight that damn thing in here, we need to lure it out into a more open space! Get it aboveground, that might work.” Target suggested, as she pointed to a door leading upstairs. “Now, let’s hoof it!”

“Saving your ass… again. Going to have to start keeping count soon...” Riptalon muttered as he used one of his free paws to grab Iron by the scruff of his neck and fly him out of the room as the others followed. The Skullcrawler screeched in rage, and smashed through a wall to burrow through the earth to follow.

Eventually, they reached a large open space, and Riptalon set Iron aside as they all took cover behind some metal crates and reloaded their weapons. The ground shock gently, a few cracks forming as the Skullcrawler tunneled under them.

“Nobody move a muscle…” Henri whispered, as Starglow shook and clung to her like a security blanket.

Like a butterfly escaping it’s cocoon, the Skullcrawler broke through the floor, debris falling off it like water. Staying low to the ground, it let out a long, rasping hiss spraying blood from its injured tongue. Its skull turned transparent again and more than a few of the group felt something unknowable and something completely vile and evil poking and prodding at their minds. Just searching for a way in.

“You’d think it’d give up by now…” Riptalon muttered, his paw feeling rather numb. “Even Yao Gauis aren’t this persistent!”

Sniffing around for the group, the Skullcrawler lurched forward, emitting a strange gagging sound. Rearing its head back, it hacked up a skull, sending the bone rolling towards Starglow.

She was just about to let out a scream of terror, when Midnight clamped a hoof over her mouth.

“On the count of three, we pour whatever bullets and ammunition we have left into that thing’s mouth. Okay?” Henri asked, and the group nodded. A profound silence filled the room, even the Skullcrawler’s claws no longer making a sound. Daring to take a look, Henri peaked out of her hiding spot, only to find herself staring into one of the monster's eyes.

It let out an unearthly howl, knocking her to the side with its head.

“Henri!” Target wanted to shout, but she knew it was futile as it would give away her location as well.

Suddenly, several loud bangs caught her attention, and a wall blew inwards as a purple form, with a long lance-like horn and two giant wings stepped inside the room, and began to charge up a spell before a blast of pure magic was fired down the creature’s throat.

“Cover your eyes!” Twilight shouted to Starglow, and she did so at once with her hooves. It was a good thing too, as what happened next, wasn’t pretty, to say the least. The Skullcrawler shrieked in pure agony, coughing up smoke. Falling onto it’s back, it clawed at it’s own belly in an effort to put out the flames which now covered it’s body in a pure blazing inferno. It ended up eviscerating itself, smoke billowing out of the new hole in its chest.

The corpse fell to the ground, completely scorched down to the bone, small embers still flickering on what was left of the creature. Target looked as if she was about to be sick, but had a mixture of relief on her face as well. Looking around the room, she noticed everyone else shared that expression.

“Finally…” she thought to herself, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“See?” Twilight asked with a smile. “Told you that you could trust me.”

Author's Note

Okay, huge load of people to thank for this chapter. Megaskullmon, as always for his allowance of the usage of the inhabitants of Wheeltreads' settlement. Ruinqueen, for giving me info on Tarot Cards, which I'd never really given much thought into until she used them in a scene in this spinoff's parent story with the Dealer. (Credit for him goes to Somber as always)

Now, credit to TheStrarovarian and Seriff Pilcrow for helping me figure out what would be the exact effects when Riptalon sliced into his own paw and how bad the damage would be.

And finally, to Fourshadow and Shagohad12. Fourshadow, for giving me the idea for the final confrontation with the Skullcrawler, and Shagohad for writing it out, and bringing out the terror of the creature itself in it's scenes here.

As ever, comments and thoughts are appreciated.

Part 19: "Lemme Tell You A Little Story..."

“Run, run for it now!” Twilight barked, as she fired off magical beam after magical beam towards the group’s pursuers, a group of Mirelurks. Eventually, Henri and company managed to retreat into the forest, with the mirelurks deciding their prey wasn’t really worth the effort of either the chase or taking on a fully powered Alicorn. (Henri suspected the latter, one of the few things she was grateful for having Twilight around for.)

Speaking of Twilight, as soon as they reached a safe spot in a forest clearing, she whirled around and socked the former Princess of Friendship in the jaw with a powerful right hook.

“...Suppose I deserved that one.” Twilight admitted.

“You’re damn well right you do,” Henri said, ignoring the small zap that was sent her way by a language chastising Starglow. Henri snorted a little at that, that filly’s spunk reminded her of Puppysmiles. “Especially after what you pulled, leaving Starglow in that death trap!”

A groaning sound from nearby alerted everyone that Iron was awake, with Riptalon rushing to his side to see if he was alright.

“You alright man?” he asked, in a surprisingly concerned tone of voice.

“Ugh…” Iron muttered, rubbing his head. “I’ve been better… You?” he replied, noting the bandages wrapped around the griffon’s paw (Although honestly, given his size Iron was starting to suspect Riptalon was more Ursagryph than Griffon.) and the blood soaking into them.

“...You want me to lie to you and say I’m fine, or give you the cold hard truth?” Riptalon drawled.

“Well, you’re being snippy with me, so I’d say you’re good enough.” Iron deadpanned. Riptalon sighed to himself. Yep, Iron was definitely alright.

“You think I wanted to leave her like that?” Twilight snapped back at Henri, with everyone else watching in interest. “If… If I had known… a-about the skullcrawler…” she whispered her voice breaking. Henri honestly didn’t know why the Hell she was doing it, but she pulled the Alicorn into a hug.

“What I’m more interested in, is why you didn’t show yourself before now? You could have easily fled the island with Starglow in tow.” Iron asked.

“Think I didn’t try that?” Twilight asked. “Sadly, the Enclave set up some sort of anti-teleportation barrier around the island, and I don’t fancy going in and taking it out at least by myself with those Star Blasters they have… However, if we work together, we might just have a chance of making it off this island alive.”

“A-Auntie Twilight?” Starglow asked, finally getting the courage to speak. “I-Is that really you? You look so different…”

“Yes Starglow, it’s really me…” Twilight said, taking on a kind smile -Which, she admitted, was offset by the two small batpony-like fangs- and leaning down to nuzzle her student’s legacy. “I’m really here.”

“Which brings me to the obvious question,” Target asked. “Last anyone saw of you, you were under the Goddess’s control. Now, I’m not blaming you for creating her, it was a simple accident and you did what you had to do in war, but… How are you even alive?”

“That’s… that’s quite a story.” Twilight sighed.

“Well, we’ve got the time to listen…” Target commented.

“Well, in that case…” Twilight began...

A decade before…

I snapped awake and blinked in surprise when I looked around and found myself in the middle of a fog covered forest. Where was I and how did I wind up here? The last thing I remembered was hearing Pinkie's voice coming from that Unicorn's PipBuck... what was her name... Pipsqueak? No wait, LittlePip, that was it!

Okay, so where was I? I was laying on my back in a clearing in a forest, I got to my hooves and tried to take off but a sharp pain shot through my wings. I looked around and saw what was left of... something. It looked almost like some sort of oversized lobster or some other creature that I didn't recognize.

What was going on here? I was in the middle of a forest and I didn't recognize anything beyond that. My head was fuzzy, but I didn't hear the voices that I had before while I was connected to the Unity, so it was definitely gone once and for all. Thank Celestia for that.

I was going through all the places we had sent the Alicorns out that this could be. There was the Northern Wilderness, but this area was all wrong and they definitely didn't have overgrown crustaceans. I looked back at my body, I was in another purple Alicorn and I was in bad shape, like it had been in a fight before I was inhabiting its body. I keenly noted that the body I now inhabited bore my Cutie Mark.

"Okay Twilight, there has to be a settlement nearby, maybe you can find somepony there that can heal your body," I said to myself and started trudging towards the trees.

And then I stopped in mid-stride to see more bodies, more Alicorns that had apparently landed on the island and had gotten attacked by whatever that creature was back there. They were all dead, an entire wing of Alicorns had been killed by whatever was on this island.

I wondered how it had died, maybe the Alicorn who's body I now inhabited had managed to kill it. I hated the idea of even taking away another pony's body, in my last body I had felt the mind of the pony fighting back as long as I was there, trying to get her body back now that everything was freed. It had only been a temporary body so I was willing to let it go, but how had I wound up here?

There was no external mind fighting back this time either, it was just me in this body and I had no idea what to make of that. Maybe this was one of the few Alicorns that had been converted in a more, experimental way that tore away the pony mind completely and sent it into the ether. Or maybe for some reason the Alicorn couldn't have their mind restored by whatever force did that, this body was empty.

Not that it really made me feel much better, but at least I wasn't stealing somepony's body away from them, sort of.

I had to make sure I knew where I was before I could do anything else and since all I had was a rifle, I couldn't even teleport given that I didn't know where I'd be teleporting to so I pushed forward through the forest in hopes that I would find it. It looked like I was on some sort of mountain, that was better, there were a few mountains around Equestria that were like this and this was a good sign.

And then I pushed through the forest and found myself standing on a ledge looking out at something that made me stop again. I was on an island somewhere off the coast of Equestria which I could just barely make out in the distance. It didn’t take long before I realized where I was, with everything else I’d seen so far. The constant fog was a major clue as well.

"Mount Pleasant Island, figures," I said with a groan as everything came back to me. We had sent a wing here not long before LittlePip had detonated the Balefire Bomb under Maripony in order to investigate the island.

The wing had gotten attacked and we had lost the connection to most of them, and the last of them had been barely holding on and trying to heal herself with the local radiation when the Unity connection had been lost. I don't know why she had been lost, but something about all of this felt weird.

Still, I knew where I was and the radiation had healed me enough that I was able to walk. I looked around for a sign of the settlement that I knew was based on the island called Lost Cove, it was probably my best bet at getting anything done so I headed that way.

I just hoped that they'd be willing to help me.

As I made my way along the old road towards Lost Cove I kept finding my mind wandering towards everything that was happening. This was the first time in centuries that I actually felt like myself, even if my body was kind of weird. I didn't have the Goddess keeping me under control anymore so I could finally think about everything that had happened to me while I was part of the Goddess.

A lot of it was still a jumble, but there was one pony that kept coming to mind. She was dark blue with a light blue mane with streaks of blue and purple in it. I think she had been from Stable 13... Stable 13, that Stable was important to me for some reason but my mind had become more jumbled.

Why did she feel so familiar? I didn't remember her from before the apocalypse, not even the rest of the parts of the Goddess really knew. But she was important somehow, she had come to Maripony to do... something. Something that only they could do for some reason, and I hated that I couldn't remember who she was or why she was so important.

Lost Cove was a ramshackle town that looked like it had been repaired and expanded on multiple times over the years. It was however primarily built based around a pier that was jutting out from the island with several buildings leading up to it that looked inhabited. I just had to hope that I wasn't going to run into much trouble when I got to the wall that looked like it was blocking the way.

"Hold it right there!" A voice said from above me and I looked up to see the town guards aiming their weapons down at me. I tried to use a shield spell but my magic just fizzled out. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm..." I started to say but I didn't think about what might happen if they knew who I was so I had to think fast. "Uh, Sunrise Glitter, I kind of wound up on the island and need to see a Doctor. Do you have one in your settlement?"

There was a whispering above me, I think I heard the word "Fog Crawler," maybe that was what had attacked the Alicorns back in the forest. I was in bad shape, I was pretty sure that they'd be able to recognize that and that might be enough to at least get help from the town's doctor.

"Sorry, we haven't exactly heard good things about Alicorns," the first one said and lowered their rifle. "We're not letting you into the town right now, but we'll send the Doctor out. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, I'll just wait right here," I said, I didn't want to do anything that could be perceived as threatening given that I needed the help and waited for them to send somepony out of the town. I looked back down the road towards where I had come from, I didn't know the layout of the island so I had to hope that they were going to be able to help since I didn't know where there might be any other settlements.

Maybe I should've taken my chances in the fog and hope that no more creatures attacked me. I was almost tempted to just go back and let the radiation heal me when the gate to the town opened up and I turned to see a pony walk out. They were a Unicorn mare that had a short blonde mane and light yellow coat, she was dressed in an old dirty coat and gave me a smile.

"Sunrise Glitter right?" She asked and I nodded as she took out her equipment. "I'm Doctor Silverlay. I have to admit I've never really taken care of an Alicorn before, but I do know what I'm doing so you should be fine."

"Thank you," I said with a weak smile as she started to work on my injuries.

"So, what attacked you?" She asked me.

"I don't remember, I think it knocked me on the head or something so the entire fight is kind of fuzzy," I said with a shake of my head. "I woke up and there was this large, lobster-like thing or something."

"Definitely a fog crawler," the doctor said with a shake of her head. "Even after everything that happened with Bright Feather awhile back the island is still dangerous. Of course, not so much in terms of crazy cultists at least so that's something."

"I'm guessing that's been a problem for you before," I said as she kept working on healing my wounds.

"Yeah, when I was a filly, there was this cult here that worshiped Nightmare Moon, a mare named Bright Feather beat them before leaving the island along with one of the local fisherponies," she said and sighed a little as she finished working on my wings. "Are you having any problems with your magic?"

"Yeah I tried to make a shield earlier, but it didn't work for some reason," I said.

"Looks like you're suffering from magical burnout, if you fought against a Fog Crawler that would explain a lot," she said with a shrug as she started bandaging me up. "Your magic should come back in time, but I suggest not straining yourself for a few days after that."

"Thank you," I said with a nod and looked back at the town. "They don't seem to trust me very much do they?"

"This isn't the first time Alicorns have come to the island," she said with a sigh. "They've mostly come from the ocean side of things and we've held them off for the most part. Still, it makes things rather uneasy around here, I don't even know why they come."

I was confused too, was it possible I wasn't remembering correctly or was there more Alicorns out there that were attacking the island? Something about all of this was weird, and I didn't like it. When I asked more she said that there hadn't been any attacks in a few years so that was something at least.

"So what are you going to do now?" She asked me.

"I honestly have no idea, I don't really have anywhere to go and it's not like the town will let me in," I said. I couldn't go back to Equestria, there was no point in going back after how badly I had failed Equestria as the Princess of Friendship. ...If I even deserved that title anymore, really.

More than that, I didn't know what kind of after effects there might be from the Unity collapsing, there was a chance that there may be Alicorns trying to reform the Goddess, and that might make me a big target. For now, I had to try and lay low and pretend to just be a normal Alicorn.

I just had to hope that it was going to be enough.

"Well, there's an old building not too far away from here that should be what you need," The doctor suggested and sighed a little. "It’s still pretty deep in the fog, but its well defended and you'll be just fine there if you want."

"Well, umm... thanks," I said with a smile. "That means a lot, I'll check it out."

The Doctor gave me directions along the road to the house and after she finished I headed that way. I sighed a little and looked back towards the town, I still had a lot to get used to now that I was out here, but I was going to do everything I could to figure out what to do.

I just had to hope that I'd be able to survive on this island.

The Present Day:

“Sunrise Glitter?” Riptalon snorted. “That was the false name you chose?”

“It… It was the best I could think of at the time! I was under pressure!” Twilight sputtered.

“Enough of that,” Iron stated, an air of authority in his tone, silencing Riptalon for the moment. “What I want to know is, presuming your appearance wasn’t like this before when you body-surfed, if you will, that Alicorn, then how did it change to your… classical appearance?”

“That… That’s something I honestly have yet to figure out for myself. Best guess is, with my mind inside this body, it adapted over the years to change itself in a form my mind would be more comfortable with.”

“Fair point…” Riptalon admitted. It was then Midnight finally chose to speak.

“Back in the labs, while you were under that… thing’s control, you said you didn’t want to kill and slaughter on a whim. Hell, you even struck a probably infected knife into your own paw just to snap yourself free of the mind control. W-Who the Hell are you, Riptalon Hawkwind?” Midnight stuttered out.

“You sure you want to know? You sure you want to have your whole world rocked?” he asked, looking at not just Midnight, but Target and Henri as well. All three nodded, and Riptalon sighed. “Well, in that case…”

3 and ½ years ago:

Riptalon stood in Gawd’s office. Now normally, Gawd would practically be looking down at anyone who stepped foot in the President’s office, but currently the older griffon found herself looking up for a change due to Riptalon’s abnormally large size.

“So, you called Madam President?” Riptalon asked.

“Yes, I did,” Gawd replied.

“Don’t tell me your back is finally giving out, and you need help around the office?” Riptalon drawled, and Gawd sighed to herself as she rubbed her temples. “Aren’t getting any younger, you know…”

“It’s hardly that,” Gawd replied, ignoring Riptalon’s poor joke. “Do you know something about the real world Riptalon?”

“Yeah, it’s crap.” Riptalon replied, in his usual blunt fashion.

“You’re close, but no dice,” Gawd replied. “The real world is not about happy endings. It's about taking the life you have, and fighting like hell to keep it. I’ve fought like that, Hell, just to keep what little life the NCR’s carved out of the wasteland. My greatest weakness? Occasionally, I give a damn about the rest of the world. And that means the rest of the Wasteland.”

“...Your point?”

“The Enclave, they keep on coming back.” Gawd replied, still quite vague.

“Yeah, they’re like cockroaches in that regard if you ask me… Can we just skip ahead to where you tell me what you called me in here for, or are we just going to keep dancing about like a bunch of flies on a trapeze?”

Gawd sighed to herself and rubbed her temples before she lit up a cigarette. “You ever wonder to yourself, how some of the attacks on these Enclave off-shots seem just that too pre-planned. Like they know something we don’t?”

“The thought has crossed my mind, I admit…” Riptalon replied, rubbing his beak like one would a chin with a claw. “I see what you’re getting at.”

“Yes, you do. Very clever of you,” Gawd replied. “Something stinks, and I’m not talking about the shit in the dumpsters. When an enemy knows too much, chances are they’ve got someone on the inside…”

“Yeah, and that means we’ve got a rat.”

“Or several. I’ve been doing some digging.”

“For graves, I hope?” Riptalon chuckled darkly.

“Oh trust me, if these worms actually deserved it, they’d get graves… But if I had my way, they’d be just left to rot, and their bodies stink up the place like the shit they are. Again with the but however. In this case, but sadly, we can’t all get what we want, can we?” Gawd asked, blowing smoke in Riptalon’s face making him cough a little. “Unfortunately, because all of these traitors are NCR soldiers, and because ponies just love war veterans and heroes they’d get graves. Coward’s graves, but graves, all the same, I’d have to give ‘em. If I didn’t, there’d be public outcry and I’m barely holding this joint together as it is...”

Gawd tossed the cigarette behind her into a garbage can. “Maybe it’s time I retire, get my daughter to run in my place…”

“She does know practically everything you know, and is just as ruthless...” Riptalon commented and Gawd chuckled.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d actually say you were sweet on her. But, considering I found you in a bar getting your dick sucked by another buck…”

Riptalon smirked. “Completely worth the price in caps he was offering…” he trailed off wistfully.

“But back to the matter at hand, we need these rats dealt with, and dealt with soon,” Gawd continued, and set a piece of paper down in front of Riptalon. “Compiled a list of names, those who I know who are traitors, and those that I have a deep suspicion are ones… I assume you know what to do?”

“Take them out silently in their sleep or poison their food and water, make it look like they died natural deaths?” Riptalon asked, and Gawd grimaced.

“It’s an idea worth considering. But that’s not like you, is it?” Gawd asked, and Riptalon shook his head.

“No, while I’m all for getting the ugly work done quickly, I still want to give these soldiers the respect they deserve,” Riptalon sighed. “Now, before you get angry, hear me out. Traitors and cowards they may be, but they’re still soldiers and a soldier deserves to die on the battlefield. It’s what I’d want, go out with a bang.”

“You are aware what this means for you if you go through with it? You’d be exiled, wanted by the NCR, never able to come back here. Are you really willing to sacrifice everything for your own government, even your reputation?”

“Honestly, never gave a damn about that. Reputation, that’s hardly important in my eyes. That’s the way it’s been for years. Besides, think of it this way, if I had a bad one I could get into places no-one else in the NCR could…” Riptalon trailed off. Gawd’s eyes practically lit up at the possibilities. A former NCR soldier, wanted by the law could easily infiltrate any criminal gang and do whatever he needed to get whatever he wanted from them, or take them all out in one clean swoop. Riptalon smirked, realizing Gawd had figured out the same thing he had. “Yes, exactly. The NCR always needs a few extra funds to keep it going, and someone unknown robbing a few gangs blind and sending their caps to you while cleaning up the Wastes at the same time? Think about it…”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Gawd trailed off. “Alright, you’ve got the go-ahead. Be safe, Riptalon. Just don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

That’s how it started, Riptalon’s criminal career of sorts. The day he became the infamous Blackhawk, the NCR’s own version of a Dashite. But first, he needed to put on a little show. Holding the shotgun labeled “Lawgiver”, he cocked it and fired upon the first of the rats Gawd had told him about. Azure Stone, a loyal soldier on the outside, but secretly a coward hoping by getting in good with the Enclave, they’d spare him.

Riptalon chuckled as he watched Azure’s brain matter cover the floor. Not anymore, he wasn’t. He heard the thundering of hoofsteps and tossed Lawgiver aside. Wasn’t his kind of weapon anyways. Far too loud, and honestly given it’s famous legacy as the personal weapon of the famous self-appointed sheriff “Black Moon” who’d cleaned up the areas surrounding old Las Pegasus, it deserved a better owner than him.

During the ensuing battle the followed, Riptalon noted a pure black stallion with a lion-like mane stepping out of a saloon. Midnight Radiance, if he remembered. Good soldier and someone the griffon would have loved to fight alongside one day. Riptalon’s only regret was that Midnight had to see him like this.

And so, Riptalon’s infamous massacre began.

Midnight’s theories, those on Riptalon, little did he know it were absolutely correct in most cases. Right now, this was his stage, if you will, and he intended to make the most of the little show he was leaving the NCR as a parting gift. Slicing a soldier across the throat with blood spattering his face, he then grabbed another combat knife and whirled around to place it squarely in the forehead of another trooper.

He then heard a sound that made his eyes widen in fear, the thundering of metallic hoofsteps that could only belong to one group. Applejack's Rangers. Riptalon swore quietly as their battle saddles began spinning up before finally letting out a spray of bullets, golden shell casings flying every which way. Riptalon snarled before he threw down a smoke bomb and Midnight coughed as his vision clouded.

Riptalon muttered to himself: “Gawd was gonna cut you down anyways, just sped up the process…”

Now:

“Y-You…” Midnight stammered out, his whole reality shattering before his eyes. The Blackhawk who’d slaughtered a entire platoon of soldiers just because he could, was in actually willingly branding himself a traitor just so he could deal with the actual traitors? Moreso, he actually wanted to fight alongside him, and admired him? “No… No, that’s not true. It can’t be…”

“Believe what you like, I don’t care. Stopped caring about my reputation years ago.” Riptalon shrugged.

“I believe him,” Henri said, shocking everyone. “Think about it, he’s had plenty of chances to kill us before now, and he’s taken none of them. That alone should lead some credence to his little yarn.”

“Sacrificing everything for your government…” Iron whispered -The words striking a chord in him- in an almost hollow tone of voice, and everyone turned to look at him this time.

“Something wrong?” Riptalon asked, in that same concerned tone of voice with that cold and uncaring mask of his finally able to break now that he was amongst ponies he knew he could trust.

“Yeah… I finally know who I am, and where I came from…” Iron/Nimbus whispered.

Ten Years Ago:

“Swear you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days doing that,” Clear “Buttercream” Skies (Or simply Buttercream, as everyone in Coltumbia called him) commented, bearing a Trottingham accent. Another tavern, another day. “I mean seriously, how many glasses have you drunk? Like you’re suffering from a bad break-up or something… Healthier ways to get over such a thing. Eat a bucket of ice-cream or two. Celestia knows you need to pack on the calories, looking awfully thin,” he continued commented kindly and his brother turned to face the speaker. It was a white pegasus, well mostly white. There were some splotches of cyan in his wings. Very large wings at that, a little too large for his body maybe.

If one had to make a comparison, he would have thought the pegasus to be similar to a cloudy sky, with small pockets of blue peeking through here and there. On his flank rested a gust of wind. Nimbus however, was the exact opposite in every way. Less religious focused, and his coat color was a deep, dark storm of angry grays befitting his demeanor. His Mark, was a storm cloud with a angry bolt of lightning seemingly cutting it in two.

“Brother of mine, not your place to chastise me on my drinking habits,” Nimbus replied in his usual gruff tone of voice. “Believe me, if you want to scold me like a little foal, do it when I’m actually doing something wrong. Like murdering somepony in cold blood. Then you can get on your high horse and chastise me like the pretentious, self-righteous arsehole you are,”

“With all due respect, go and bugger off eh?” Nimbus commented, flipping him a rude gesture with a wing. Sometimes he wondered how he and Buttercream were related. “Honestly, I don’t regret my life choices. The drinking, gambling, none of that. Unlike you, I’m not so blessed as to be given a good cloud crop and gotten rich off it. I have to earn my keep,” he remarked. “And another thing… For Celestia’s sake, will you stop listening to that preaching that evangelist Stormy Skies is spouting off eh? He’s a nutter, plain and simple. Celestia’s no god. ...If she was, we wouldn’t be sitting here above the clouds and the Wastes below wouldn’t have turned into a living nightmare,”

“Great, so you’re ganging up on me with this arse, Madam Breeze? For Celestia’s sake…”

“You yourself sound like you’re preaching something Winter, Altruism I think it’s called. Well, here’s something for your sermons. For every choice, there is an echo. With each act, we change the world,” Nimbus remarked. “Yes, I know that sounds like a quote I probably stole from somewhere, but I’m just speaking my mind here. Just doing this out of my kind heart, or maybe I’m as stupid as Buttercream thinks I am, but we as a species do need to change. We’re too closed off. Can’t survive up here forever. Open up your eyes madam, see my standing. That birth control crap that was created? How many ponies do you think actually listen to it? Ponies are horny little bastards, you know that. Doubt they can keep their libido under control for long,” he continued in his drunken tangent. “Sooner or later, somepony, somewhere up here, they might just… slip up. Don’t count on anybody else, that’s my motto. Least… Don’t count on them obeying rules and laws that were set down. Ponies don’t like to be constrained, least of all us pegasi. We once flew free, and now here we are. Trapped like rats in a cage. Gotta fly free, if you will, in some other way…”

Nimbus got up from his seat and reached for his Novasurge rifle. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got better things to do then quibble about with you lot. I’ve got firing squads to teach. Some damn idiots still haven’t worked out how to use a Novasurge rifle properly...”

With that, he walked off, but not before hearing Winter Breeze and Buttercream mutter amongst themselves.

“Teaching a firing squad while completely plastered…? How the Hell is that supposed to work out?” Buttercream wondered aloud.

“Hey, if he does end up shooting his entire class, least they’ll know how a Novasurge rifle works.” Buttercream muttered darkly. After the class ended, (With nopony getting shot shockingly enough) Nimbus found himself in a crowd of pegasus ponies dressed in insect-like armor high in the sky, amongst the clouds. Atop a podium stood a pegasus similar in coat coloring and appearance to Calamity, but with a lighter shade of fur. It was tan, instead of the dark brown Calamity bore.

Next to him were effigies, one of a rainbow-maned pegasus with light blue fur, and another of a purple-maned pegasus, with orange fur.

With that, he set the first effigy alight and the crowd roared and stamped their hooves in approval, and Iron heard a small growl come from nearby. He looked, and saw Winter Breeze vanish into the crowd with a disgusted expression on her face. Nimbus’s eyes widened in abject shock.

“Winter…? What’s she doing here?” Nimbus thought to himself. “More importantly,” he pondered to himself upon observing her reaction to the Scootaloo effigy being burned, “What got her so worked up about Scootaloo’s likeness being…”

His eyes widened as he then realized. “So that’s it! No wonder Stormy Skies hates her so much… Well, I’ll be damned.” He then let out a low chuckle at the irony. A member of the Enclave actually being related to the very first Dashite. Wouldn’t that throw everypony in the city into one Hell of a tizzy? Oh, what’d he’d give to see their reactions...

It wasn’t long before Nimbus found himself being suited up for war, and put into armor. He was next to a Vertibuck, helping some pegasi clad in insectoid like power armor load supplies into it. A giant monstrosity of a Raptor class Cloudship hovered ominously in the background.

“Shame you’ve decided not to come along, Nimbus,” Autumn Leaf asked, as a pony with a white mane and beard stood by him. “As Stormy here likes to say, you’re a damn good soldier or some such shit,”

“Please, if you’re going to take on the Equestrian Wastes… Well, I think with everything you’ve loaded up, along with all the bodies -And trust me, there will be bodies- you’re throwing at this, you’re plenty prepared. You don’t need me, honestly. Swear to Celestia. Cross my heart and hope to fly,” Nimbus remarked.

“Yeah,” Autumn Leaf replied. “There will be bodies, yes. But they won’t be pegasi bodies… at least, none of our pegasi. Any of them who chose to hide out in Stables, well… that’s another story entirely…” he chuckled.

“So let it be written, so let it be done…” Stormy added. “This is the Wastes’ last day of impurity. The land shall be cleansed, and only the pure, untainted shall live in the Hell below, and transform it into paradise,”

Nimbus turned to Autumn as Stormy walked off towards a waiting Vertibuck. “Surely you’re not listening to this religious nut, right? Why he’s a soldier, I’ve got no clue. Bit too… preachy for my tastes, really,” the stone gray pegasus remarked, with more than a hint of disdain and disgust.

“Yes, I admit, he’s possibly not all there, and worships Celestia a bit too much, but he’s harmless in the end, really…” Autumn tried to reassure.

“Yeah, well, that’s what they said about the zebras, and look what happened there, eh?” Nimbus retorted. “From nobodies to nightmares, that’s what they became. And if I’m right, and we don’t keep a close enough eye on Stormy, we could end up with a similar situation.”

Predictably, Autumn ignored him.

“That’s entirely different, and you know it. The zebras are scum, they sought to destroy everything Equestria stood for, while Stormy Skies is a loyal soldier to our grand Enclave,” Autumn Leaf replied. Nimbus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Keep telling yourself that, and you might just believe it…” Nimbus muttered before whispering to himself: “In all honesty, I think the world’s going to end bloody.”

And yet somehow, he found himself fighting in that war no matter how much he disliked it. He found himself fighting in the final battle of the war for Equestria’s freedom, against Littlepip and her band. The remaining Enclave was waging a final siege, one last desperate effort. And Nimbus found himself in the middle of it, on a Raptor Cloudship with Stormy -Ironically enough- as his commander.

“Sir,” a male stallion’s voice yelled, almost as if in fear. Horrifyingly, he sounded as if he was in his early teens. “The cannons! They’re-”

“Damn the cannons, ignore them!” Stormy shouted as he slammed his hoof against something hard, presumably the center control console. A roar was heard from somewhere nearby, and a massive winged shadow flew by them smashing right through another Cloudship as it erupted into an inferno of green flame.

“But the ship, it’s going down! We should evacuate!” the first voice shouted, seemingly the more sensible one of the two. Nimbus found himself agreeing with the first voice, and not with the probably-suicidal idiot ordering him about.

“No, not yet! We can still put up a fight, and I’m not letting those ground-dwelling mud-ponies get the better of us, and that’s that!” Stormy disagreed, nearly screaming by this point. Weapons fire, all centered on the Cloudship came from all around them, some even from Fillydelphia’s SPP Tower. “Now, you’ll obey my orders unless you want me to shoot you for insubordination!”

“But sir-”

A gunshot went off accompanied by a scream. The young soldier fell to the floor clutching his bleeding foreleg, as explosions erupted from behind them. An engine, Nimbus knew.

“W-Why?” the younger voice coughed out.

There was then another gunshot, silencing the first voice forever. History continued, as history did. Operation Cauterize ended in disaster, and the Enclave erupted into utter chaos. Splinter factions broke off, each trying their hand at conquering Equestria and continuing the work left behind by those before over the years the followed. Two bided their time, both building up their power and influence from the inside. One faction, led by Stormy Skies, and the other led by Winter Breeze. Nimbus knew a clash between the two was inevitable. “Give a buck or a mare power, and watch it all go all to their heads…” he liked to comment to anypony who’d listen.

Honestly, he wanted to stay out of things. But sadly, that’s not what fate had in mind for him. As it turned out, Buttercream was quite loyal to Stormy even after his failures at the final battle for Equestria’s freedom in Fillydelphia and the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows.

Nimbus, out of pure fear for the path his brother was heading down confronted him.

“You complete and utter idiot!” Nimbus shouted. “Stormy… Just following that madman of a preacher’s orders is going to get you killed!” he snapped before his voice broke. “I… I just don’t want to see the only family I have left…” Nimbus trailed off, holding back a sob. The rest of his family, his parents and sister had been killed in the disaster that was Operation Cauterize.

“I understand Nimbus, but ponies are choosing sides. ...I-I know you’re right, but I don’t have any choice in the matter…” Buttercream trailed off.

“Of course you have a choice in the matter! We can go and end this now, shoot Stormy in the head and join up with Winter’s forces!” Nimbus snapped.

“And risk throwing the city in even further chaos when it loses one of it’s crucial figures?” Buttercream asked before pulling his brother into an alleyway. “Besides, Stormy has eyes and ears everywhere… Followers by the dozens. If he even heard we were trying to do him in, much less succeed, they’d come for us. I don’t want to lose you. I’m doing this to save you, keep you out of his little batch of insanity.” Buttercream whispered, and Nimbus’s eyes widened in shock.

“You… You…” he trailed off, finding himself at a loss for words. “You’re willingly doing this, just to save the brother you never cared about?”

“Oh Nimbus… I’ve always cared about you, no matter how much of a dick you became.”

Nimbus chuckled. “Finally got you to curse. If anything, that should count as a minor victory. Be safe.”

“I will be brother, I will be.” Buttercream smiled before he walked off.

Somehow, though, Stormy Skies did find out about Nimbus’s wishes to see him dead. He knew of the old saying, keep your friends close, but you keep your enemies closer.

And so, he found himself amongst Stormy’s forces fighting a civil war he never wanted to be in. Leading an execution squad through the streets, Stormy had asked him to go right for the heart of his troubles and hit Winter where it would hurt most, her family.

“Gentleponies, before we get started, I’m the only authority you’ll ever need. Now, you lot… You all know our mission. Got some… dissenters who’d rather return to the Wastes below as they feel life’s better down there than up here in our little slice of paradise. Our little Garden of Eden in what’s otherwise Hell all around us,” Nimbus lectured, inwardly wanting to slaughter all of the soldiers under his “Command”. “Our job, teach them it is not to disobey the will of the Enclave. We are Celestia’s chosen, the only pure faction left in the Wasteland! We do not tolerate those who think otherwise. After Rainbow Dash, after Scootaloo! They were examples of what happens when things go wrong, those who would carefully upset the balance we created.”

Ponies were dragged out of their houses and fired at with Novasurge rifles and turned to nothing but ash. Ashes beneath his hooves that fell through the cloud cover below and became nothing but dust in the wind. There was only one word for it. Fanaticism. Fanaticism, and a twisted sense of loyalty to a country that decided who got to live, and who got to die. That was the cold hard truth of the Enclave. You decided to become a Dashite, and you earned yourself a death sentence. That was the rule of law here.

Looking at the pile of ashes in front of him, Nimbus smirked and spoke into the radio. “It’s done… Commander Stormy. Scootaloo’s great-grandchildren are dead.”

“Good. You’re a damn good soldier Nimbus. Damn good. I may just strike up a friendship with you yet. After all, isn’t that what they said in the old days? Friendship is Magic?” Stormy asked, and Nimbus chuckled in seeming agreement with that. But in actuality, things had worked just as planned. Little did Stormy or his execution squad know it, but the ponies they had just killed were some of Stormy’s own supporters. Nimbus had played them both, and that was the source of his amusement.

The higher-ups, they decided what the truth was, and right now, the truth was Winter was the enemy. Soon however, Winter found out about what had happened, (At least that’s what Nimbus thought, he’d probably never know)and her own troops struck back in the battle for supremacy with an armored black alicorn at the lead, killing any of Stormy’s supporters that got in their way.

In rage and fury, they came, burning down Stormy’s church and base of operations leaving all but Nimbus dead in their wake. And Stormy, of course, needed a scapegoat and someone to take his rage out on.

“So…” Stormy asked as ragtime piano-based music played in the background. Nimbus was in front of him, strapped down to a table, bruised and bloody. “That’s your position?”

“Yeah, so fuck you and the high horse you rode in on mate,” Nimbus’s responded. “Been wanting to say that for a very long time, and now I finally get to tell you that face to fucking face,”

“Well then…” Stormy answered before the sounds of crackling electricity filled the room as Stormy pulled out an electric prod and then, horrific ear-piercing screams of pain. “Let me teach you a lesson. Something I learned in my youth. As a young little colt, I had a dog named Bill. Like all dogs, Bill was a loyal friend. If we had not fed him, Bill would have been loyal. If we had struck him, Bill would have been loyal. Only when the inferiors below us, the ones in the Wastes the Zebras created, can we make that claim will he take his place in society,”

“You’re... “ Nimbus coughed out. “You’re sick. You and your sense of morality… Completely fucked up beyond belief. You’re completely insane, you know that? My brother was right about you. Right before you killed him.” he snarled, learning from Stormy himself that his brother had died several days before.

Another scream of pain, and laughter followed it.

A roar of rage, and another scream followed.

“We’ll keep going at this, right up until you submit. President Winter Breeze will have you one way or the other, that’s my promise to her,” Stormy snarled, a devilish smile on his face. “She wants one of my men dead, the one that killed her relations, so I promised her I’d give her you. Just didn’t say what condition you’d be in, that’s all.”

“Funny, would Winter Breeze actually let you go through with this? Torture till I’m nearly dead?” Nimbus smirked defiantly, actually enjoying the look of sheer panic on Stormy’s face that came with his next question. “Let me ask you this… Hell, ask yourself… Who are you more afraid of? Celestia’s judgement… Or hers? That alicorn of Winter’s… Oh, I’d hate to be in here if he barged in this little room right now. No, strike that, I’d enjoy it, as suffice to say, you’d be fucked.”

The older stallion faltered for a moment, for just a brief moment. But soon he regained his composure. “Lady Celestia forgives everything, but I'm just a prophet... so I don't have to. Amen. Now… ask yourself, are you afraid of Celestia, Nimbus Breaker… Or are you more afraid of me?”

And then the screams started once again. “You’re a determined one, aren’t you? Tenacity should be a reward in itself in this group of ours, always keep trying to escape like a rat,” Stormy asked in surprise. “Celestia’s given you gifts, and I must admit… You do know how to use them. Though a hundred crooked paths may conduct to a temporary success, the one plain and straight path of public and private virtue can alone lead to a pure and lasting fame and the blessings of posterity. I’d suggest you’d heed my advice.”

“F-Fuck… You.” Buttercream’s voice coughed out from a room nearby (Nimbus’s eyes widening) before the sound of hoof hitting flesh was heard and then a scream of pain and the sound of a bone cracking joined it.

“One buck goes into the waters of baptism. A different buck comes out, born again. But who is that buck who lies submerged? Perhaps what it is, it’s that swimmer is both a sinner and a saint, until he is revealed unto the eyes of ponykind,” Nimbus continued to preach. “No animal is born free, except the for us, the pegasi. And it is our beast of burden to care for the rest of creation. Do you understand now? Our duty?”

“Again… Fuck you.” Buttercream rasped out before Stormy sighed.

“Oh well, I tried… You could have been a good soldier for us, but it seems not all can be… turned.”

Next thing that was heard was a gunshot and the rest was silence. Or, at least that’s what Stormy would have liked to have heard, as the door to the small room was soon kicked in and there stood Buttercream with a Novasurge rifle in hoof. He swung out with a hoof, and knocked out Stormy before freeing his brother.

“Would… Would this be a good time to say I told you so?” Nimbus laughed weakly.

“Yeah yeah… You can lecture me later. For now, we’re getting out of here. There’s some Cloudships nearby, all that’s standing between them and us… are Stormy’s troops.”

“Fine then,” Nimbus snarled as he grabbed a nearby Novasurge rifle. “Let there be blood and fire in the blue sky. Been waiting to get some payback.”

Like a hurricane, they swept through anything that got in their way, and made their way through the city of Coltlumbia in full armor (At one point, Nimbus smirked when he saw some Dust Devils emblazoned with Stormy’s Cutie Mark on the side high above fleeing from the city with Vertibucks in classic Enclave livery -Winter’s forces, he knew- in pursuit) and cutting down anypony who dared stand in their way. Once they reached the port, they both shared a nod.

“We’ll take separate ships, split up. For now, we’re both targets. Dashites. For now,” Buttercream whispered softly as he boarded a Cloudship and took the controls. “This is where we part ways… I love you, brother, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. Be safe.” Nimbus replied as they both took flight from the city. To their credit, they made it a few miles out before Stormy’s forces caught up with Nimbus, and with a lucky shot blasted one of the ship’s engines and soon, Nimbus saw the Wastes below rushing up to greet him…

Now:

Reactions varied, but one thing was clear, Nimbus knew nobody in this group would be looking at him the same way.

“So… So you waged a one-man war against Stormy Skies and his Enclave, all to protect your brother?” Riptalon whispered. “You gave up everything, for your own government just to protect those you loved?” he asked, actually beginning to see similarities between himself and the pegasus. Both former soldiers for a government, both willing to ruin their own reputations for the greater good, and both having those they cared about and a defiance that would strike fear into anyone who crossed them.

“Yes, but it’s not over yet,” Nimbus growled. “Stormy’s on this island, and I intend to finish the fight, and then find my brother. Henri, you take that Dust Devil and get Starglow and everyone else off this island. Me and Twilight, we’re going after the Enclave and killing every last. single. member on this island, even if we die in the process ourself.”

“Hell no,” Riptalon said as Midnight joined him by Iron’s side. “You’re not going on that mission alone. This isn’t just your fight. We came to this island to take out the Enclave, and we’re going to finish that mission. You don’t have to fight this war by yourself.”

“He’s right,” Target said, tossing Nimbus End of the Line. “Take this, you’re going to need it. ...Just come back safe, okay?”

Nimbus only replied with a simple nod, and a reload of the sniper rifle.

Author's Note

IOkay, first off... Huge thanks to RuinQueenofOblivion for writing Twilight's side of things, and taking the time out of her own writing to do so. Also, a thank you to Notsonewbrony for suggesting the reason why Twilight couldn't give as much help as she could have to the party.

Now, on the chapter itself. Few things I want to point out. Yes, most of Iron's (Or should we say Nimbus, now that he feels comfortable enough to call himself by his real name) backstory is the flashbacks we've seen previously, but with a few extra added bits to fill in the gaps, and lined up in the correct order. Also, originally I was going to have him and his brother escape by Dust Devil, but I remembered the fact that the story opened with a Cloudship crashing down, so... Also, on Cloudships, originally one was going to shoot him down, but that was axed for two reasons. One, waste of resources, and two: I doubt a fleeing sect of the Enclave would have the ability to grab a Cloudship just to kill one pony.

Now, as ever... Comments, thoughts, and critique are welcomed.

Part 20: The Calm Before The Storm

Mount Pleasant Island:

Nimbus, as he clambered up a cliffside pass under cover of night, End of the Line in his hooves locked and loaded ready for battle, thought back to a few hours ago…

“This… This is nuts, you know that right?” Target asked, still wary of what Iro-No, Nimbus had just proposed out of the blue. This was one of those plans crazy enough to make some of the Lightbringer or Security’s plans look completely tame. “You’re walking into a suicide mission, even with Twilight by your side. Full-blown Alicorn or not, hell… Full blown Princess or not, this is completely and utterly batshit off the flying fuck walls insane! The Enclave… There’s a reason Princess Twilight fucking Sparkle is scared to death of them, (She sent mental apologies to the Princess) what with their Star Blasters, and Novasurge Rifles! And even if you do make it past all of that, how are you going to blow that giant cannon of theirs to Kingdom Come?” she bellowed out.

She ignored the slap to the back of her head from Henri and a zap from Starglow, both to chide her for her choice of language.

“Please… Please don’t call me that,” Twilight muttered, looking away from the group when Target mentioned her former title. “I’m… I’m, well… Honestly, I’m not worthy of the Princess of Friendship title, not anymore. I didn’t just fail Equestria, I failed Friendship itself when I let this war happen…”

“Wasn’t your fault alone, we all know that now,” Henri reassured kindly. “It’s was everyone’s faults. Celestia, yours, the rest of the Ministries, the Zebras… I could go on. We all brought this hell down on ourselves.”

Twilight whirled on her, and Henri flinched at the stone-cold glare tossed her way.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Twilight asked mournfully. “I failed friendship, what part of that do you not understand? If… If I tried a little harder, maybe none of this would have happened. You know Pinkie’s last words to me right? I still repeat them to myself every night since Littlepip brought me that message. Every DAMN night!”

With that, Twilight actually repeated the last message to her chronicled in the Book of Littlepip.

“Hi, Twilight. It’s me… I’ve tried sending messages to you at both your Canterlot office and the one here. Everypony says that you are in Splendid Valley again, so now I’m trying you there too. I really hope you’re not just avoiding me. I… I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I went to the get-together at Spike’s place and brought It just like you asked. All of my friends were there but you… Spike said it was because you couldn’t get away from your work, but…

“Was it because I was gonna be there? Twilight, I’m so sorry. You were right. Totally right. I’ve known it for a long time. I just… I can’t. I mean, I couldn’t. But I will. I’ve made an appointment at the Helpinghoof Clinic. For tomorrow. They’re supposed to have stuff there… medicine that can help make… addictions… go away. Do you think they might be able to bake the medicine into a cake? Or maybe a pie? I like pie! Oooh, those Four Stars ponies are some bad ponies! They need to be banished. Then locked up in the place they were banished to. But first we need to get their secrets from their bad, bad pony heads to make sure there aren’t any more of them. So tell my ponies that we want them alive... You… wouldn’t believe what’s been going on. But don’t worry. If we get through today, everything will be okay.

“After today, I can do what you wanted me to do. I can try to be your Pinkie Pie again. I’m sorry I haven’t before… but I just couldn’t. I know you won’t believe me but… try to remember the parasprites. I’ve done bad things, Twilight. Awful things. And I’ve let the ponies in my Ministry do even worse things. And I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know if I can be your Pinkie Pie again. But I’ll try. That’s a Pinkie Pie Promise!

“I…Party-Time Mint-als are bad. They mess ponies up. I know I’m messed up. More than ever. But I’ve needed them. Normal old Pinkie Pie is smart and she can sense when things are coming. But Party-Time Mint-als make me… more. Not better. I know that now. But… more. And we need more. Equestria needs more. On Party-Time Mint-als, my Pinkie Sense is way, way more Sense-y. And it’s the only thing keeping us a hoof ahead of really, really bad things. My nose has been burning all day. It’s like an itchy nose only way, way worse. There are bad ponies, Twilight, and they mean to hurt us. To hurt all of Equestria. And just normal Pinkie Pie can’t stop them… But after today, it’ll all be okay again. I just know it. Just have to get through today… …And tomorrow, I’ve got that appointment. And… and… And Twilight? Do you think… maybe… you could go with me? I’m… kinda scared. And it isn’t the sort of scared that goes away with giggling. I mean, I have you with me now, so you’ll kinda be with me anyway. But it’s not the same. I want the real Twilight Sparkle. I… I want my friend back. Please? I’ll do anything…” Twilight whispered, word for word, but the words were hollow, a far cry from Twilight’s normal realm of speech patterns. They just sounded… wrong coming from her mouth. She sounded heartbroken, and not just the type of heartbreak when you lost a friend, but the kind when you lost a… (Henri swallowed here in stark realization) lover.

“I intend to make up for my mistakes. I failed her. I failed Pinkie, and I don’t intend to fail her again. I’m going to make ponies smile one last time, and if it’s by taking out a section of the Enclave and dying in the process… well, so be it.” Twilight said, in a tone that left almost no room for argument. Almost.

“Hell. No!” Henri snarled out, and actually for the second time that day, punched Twilight across the face. “You think Pinkie, the one you knew and loved -Yes, I picked up on that- would want you throwing your life away like this? Not if what I’ve heard about her is true. No, she’d want you to live. Besides, Starglow needs you. She just got her auntie back, you think she’d want to lose her again?”

Twilight looked at Starglow’s tear-filled eyes, begging and pleading for her to not throw her life away like that, and her resolve reaffirmed itself. “No… No,” Twilight whispered. “You’re right.”

“And you’ve still got friends you haven’t failed. Fluttershy, she’s alive and quite well,” Target added. “Sure, turned into a weeping willow for 200 odd years by Killing Joke, but still alive and well. Think on that…” the sniper put in.

“Fl-Fluttershy? S-She’s still alive?” Twilight asked, scarcely able to believe it.

“And still inspiring ponies to be kind. Just ask Velvet Remedy sometime, eh?” Target asked. Twilight nodded, and performed a small spell on Riptalon’s ripped apart and bloody claw.

“Small healing spell, best I can do in the time allowed, but you need to get yourself to see a real doctor, one who actually knows healing magic… I’d like to think I rarely make mistakes, but when I do, I correct them. This is me correcting yet another mistake, not being there for you all when I should have…” Twilight trailed off.

“I’ll be fine for the time being. I’ve worked alone for a few years now and survived on my own as well. Going to take more than a knife through my own talon to bring me down. Hurts like a female dog (He carefully chose his words, wary of a zap from Starglow) but I’ll be fine and dandy. Just give me someone to shoot. Preferably Enclave.”

“No, this is my mission alone.” Nimbus snarled, but Riptalon was having none of that.

“Hell no,” Riptalon said as Midnight joined him by Nimbus’s side. “You’re not going on that mission alone. This isn’t just your fight. We came to this island to take out the Enclave, and we’re going to finish that mission. You don’t have to fight this war by yourself.”

“He’s right,” Target said, tossing Nimbus End of the Line. “Take this, you’re going to need it. ...Just come back safe, okay?”

Nimbus only replied with a simple nod, and a reload of the sniper rifle. Well, not entirely. “Ponies… They talk. I’ve heard about one in particular. Goes by the name of Blackjack, or Queen Whiskey. Well, got one thing to say to the Enclave and to you lot. They say Blackjack swears she's not an executioner... Unluckily for you lot, I'm not her. As for that damned cannon and blowing it up, I’ll work something out along the way, about the way half of my plans went back in Coltumbia, just doing something crazy and hoping and praying it’d work. Now… Ante up!” he barked, as a jagged flash of lightning lit up the sky illuminating his form and thunder cracked.

Riptalon and Midnight shared a smirk, and grabbed their weapons as Twilight charged up her horn. It was time to go to war, and everyone knew it. The calm before the storm was over, and now the clouds had broken wide open.

Now:

As Nimbus led the way, eye peered out along the ridges for any snipers and ears trained for the sounds of movement, Midnight let out a long sigh, and turned to Riptalon behind him. Twilight Sparkle was close behind them, horn ready to fire off any number of combative spells.

“Suppose I owe you an apology, huh? Guess we all do…” he muttered.

“To be perfectly fair, and this goes out to you too Nimbus or Iron as I don’t really care what you call yourself now, and because I know you’re listening to both of us chatter on,” Riptalon replied. “I really didn’t make it easy for myself on the trustworthiness front. Had to sell the illusion as best as I could, and I guess, some parts of me became the mask a little. Riptalon, serial killer and backstabber extraordinaire. No one to boss me about, just complete and utter freedom to do as I pleased…”

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t,” Midnight replied in return. “After all, you had plenty of chances to kill us as soon as you met up with us, and yet you took none of them.”

“Had a gun trained on me at all times, so how could I?”

“...Like that’s ever stopped you before.” Midnight pointed out, and Riptalon shrugged in agreement.

“Got me there…”

“Plus,” Midnight added. “You, although the packages were always anonymous, sent plenty of caps to the NCR’s home base back in Junction Town, so you were still loyal to them in some form right?”

“You know,” Nimbus answered back. “For all the jokes and cracks Henri made about me and you getting together Riptalon, I think you and Midnight might make a damn good couple if I do say so myself…” he commented, no sense of snark or tease in his tone, and Midnight and Riptalon stared at him in shock before gagging.

“Me kiss him?” The two asked in unison as they looked at each other and then back at Nimbus. “Not a chance in Hell!”

“Suit yourself…” Nimbus singsonged. “Shame though, those bets of Henri’s on me and you Rip, they’ll really go to waste…”

“Henri’s really been betting on you and Riptalon getting together?” Twilight leaned over to whisper to him, and Nimbus nodded.

“Yeah, been doing that and making cracks about me and Riptalon ever since she first met us. To be fair, we did do an extended wilderness survival trip of sorts and fought back to back against wolves soon after we met up with each other, so…” Nimbus trailed off.

“Not to mention you snuggling me like a big fluffy feathery pillow, you asshole…” Riptalon muttered quietly in distaste, and Twilight bit back a snigger. She had to struggle from breaking into full-blown laughter when the griffon muttered: “Trying very hard to wash those memories from my brain…”

“Annnnyyyways,” Midnight muttered, trying to veer off the subject. “You know there’s been a battle cry, or hymn against the Enclave developed lately? I can sing it if you want.”

“And give our position away?” Twilight asked. “I hardly think this is the time for a-”

“Breakin' our backs
On breakin' down stones
Raisin' up buildings
Breakin' down bones…” Midnight began to sing softly and Twilight sighed to herself and facehoofed, getting a sense of eerie deju vu.

“...Song.” she finished.

“Work all the night
And we work all the day
Don't get a choice man
Don't get a say

“Well there's a stormcloud stirrin' now
Revolt!
There's a stormcloud stirrin' now
Revolt!

“The filthy streets and the calloused hooves
And bloodshot Marish eyes
A floating haven for the craven
Nestled in the skies

Well up and out and away with ya
There's a fight outside your doors
The shining pride of Equestria
Is a nation up for war!” He finished.

“...You know, I’m genuinely shocked we haven’t been shot full of holes with that voice of yours,” Nimbus deadpanned. “Not because it’s loud or good or anything… No, it’s just that terrible.”

“...You know, I remember why I hate you now,” Riptalon muttered. “You really have no brain to mouth filter...”

“So, what’s your point? Blackjack, who I still regard as the punchline to a bad joke as no pony just drinks, has sex, and shoots up everything like a bloody madmare, has no brain to mouth filter from what I’ve heard out of you chatterboxes.”

Riptalon muttered something rude under his breath, and once again thought about getting flash cards for Nimbus. Gawd knew he needed them for social niceties.

“Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?” Twilight asked. “Now, I’m not exactly the best at social cues, never have been, but it’s like something’s nagging away at you as you seem to be making suicidal risks. Taking on the Alpha Skullcrawler alone with just Riptalon by your side, and now this.”

“...Okay, yeah I admit I’m guilty of more than a few things. Like being partial to letting Starglow out from that heaven of hers, and exposing her to… this,” Nimbus admitted. “I push aside feelings over half the time, don’t give a damn about caring and leave that luxury up to others so I can figure out a plan to get everyone out alive, left over from my time as an Enclave commander under Stormy Skies I guess…”

“So, you can make up for this…” Twilight said kindly. “I mean, you can train Starglow to defe-”

Nimbus whirled around to face her, with a frosty glare in his eyes.

“Put that suggestion back in your mouth Twilight, before I’m tempted to shoot you. I am not training Starglow to fight, provided I get out of this. No way in Hell. A child doesn’t belong in war, not in my books!” he hissed out.

“So, she doesn’t have to fight on the front lines, she can just be trained to defend herself from basic dangers like Radroaches and the like…” Twilight replied.

“Basic dangers? Pretty sure that counts as Enclave soldiers nowadays…” Nimbus snarled softly before his tone lightened. “I know you’re trying to help Twilight, but as I said before, a child doesn’t belong in war.”

“Yeah, but what if that war comes straight to your doorstep?”

Nimbus didn’t say anything for a while after that.

Eventually, the small group reached a small communication station manned by Enclave scouts, constructed out of a small dwelling.

“Now, quick and quiet, let’s take them out,” Nimbus directed. “Take this comms station out, and they won’t be able to radio for reinforcements anytime soon.”

Riptalon nodded, before he and Nimbus rushed the two guards manning the outpost. Riptalon sliced one across the throat while Nimbus snapped the other’s neck with a sickening crack.

Riptalon then pulled out Lawgiver and fired it into the comms panel, blasting it to the point of near-ruin.

“...Won’t be fixing that anytime soon, I’ll wager…” Riptalon muttered as he gazed out the window to the towering cannon in the distance.

“How the hell did they build such a thing anyways?” Midnight wondered aloud, and suddenly Riptalon remembered something back in Old Appleloosa.

With that, the log ended.

“Those trains…” Riptalon muttered to himself, and Midnight gave him a confused look. Twilight meanwhile, had guessed what he was thinking off.

“Those old war trains, packed with anti-air artillery. The Enclave… They must have used some of that metal to build that thing, with their ships ferrying in the raw materials wherever they were found!” Twilight realized in horror. “They finish this cannon, they control the skies for miles. We’ve got to bring that thing down now!”

Nimbus nodded, before he sighed.

“Given that we've nearly died Celestia knows how many times in the past few hours, and are probably going to die quite soon, I offer up the only appropriate form of minor comfort before we all die terrible deaths at the hooves of the Enclave. Whiskey!” Nimbus said in mock-cheer, before pulling flasks of whiskey from his saddlebags, and popping them open. “So, who wants first drinks?” he asked. Riptalon sighed and took a flask.

He then downed it, after saying in the tone of someone who knew he was probably on death row: “Oh what the Hell, not like I’ve got that long of a lifespan left anyways…”

Author's Note

Okay, so we're on the second to last chapter of this arc, and saddle up as things are about to get very crazy. Firstly though, credit to KKat for Pinkie's Last Message that Twilight repeats here. And yes, Twilight in this canon was Pinkie's lover. Another change I made to this universe, along with a few others you'll see coming down the line. Some by me, some by RuinQueen herself.

Next time: They Call Me Devil, And You Should Be Afraid...

Bonus: Art by KrazyEzzy of Riptalon:

Part 21: Tabula Rasa

“Most leaders spend time trying to get others to think highly of them, when instead they should try to get their people to think more highly of themselves. It’s wonderful when the people believe in their leader. It’s more wonderful when the leader believes in their people! You can’t hold a man down without staying down with him.” -Booker Washington

Mount Pleasant Island:

“Nice and quiet, we don’t want to let them know we’re coming,” Nimbus said, as he picked up a combat knife from a fallen Enclave soldier, and continued making his way up the ridgeline, End of the Line grasped tightly in hoof.

“Hey, look, or to be more accurate, listen to this…” Midnight called, gesturing Nimbus to come over. He held up an audiolog, and inserted it into his Pipbuck.

“Alright Sharpe, I'm going to go over this one more time. The Stealthbucks are locked away in a safe behind the second screen over at Golden Meadows Cinema, you know the one that plays that old horror movie from before the war. I'd watch out for the Droolers that tend to hang out around there, but you should be able to distract them. Hopefully you're not going to need them, but…” a mare’s voice crackled from the log.

Next thing anyone heard, was the sound of plasma fire. Nimbus’ eyes narrowed. The Enclave. Which version, he couldn’t tell, but he knew it had to be them via the weapons fire alone, and the dying screams of ponies as they were reduced to nothing but ash.

“Celestia-Fucking-Damnit!” the mare’s voice swore. “It’s the Enclave! Get your-”

Another dying scream, and the audio log ended. Nimbus let out a growl, he wouldn’t let those ponies deaths be in vain. They were damn good soldiers, damn good. Cursing himself for even using that phrase Stormy liked to spout off (Old habits die hard), he suddenly noticed some different looking Pipbucks on the arms of the soldiers he and his group had just dealt with. They looked like normal Pipbucks for the most part, but bore a small radar dish. This must have been the Stealthbucks the mare was talking about.

He took them off the soldiers’ forelegs, and tossed one to Riptalon, and another to Midnight.

“Here, take them. Should work in our favor. Should be a real fucking hoot and a half for the Enclave when you sneak up on them like this…” Nimbus mused.

“What about you? Shouldn’t you take one?” Midnight asked, and Nimbus soundly smacked him around the head for asking such a stupid question.

“I’m a sniper, it’s in my job description not to be seen. I’ll be under cover of darkness, hiding behind things. They won’t see the shots coming. Well, till they get holes blown through their head. Now, enough talk, we’ve got work to do…” Nimbus growled, a vindictive smile gracing his face, one that unnerved everyone around him. It was like he enjoyed this a little too much.

As Riptalon and Midnight put on their newly acquired Stealthbucks, they soon faded away into the background like they were wearing a form of active camouflage.

“Should be fun…” Riptalon grinned. “Always wanted one of these…”

Continuing on their way up the ridgeline, Nimbus suddenly held up a hoof for the group to halt their progress. Looming over them, ominously in fashion, was the massive form of the anti-air cannon, spotlights all around it and Enclave soldiers patrolling it like Target had described.

“How the hell are we going to…?” Riptalon trailed off.

“Take that thing down?” Twilight asked. “I was going to fly up and bring it down with spellfire, while you three provide me with covering fire, but failing that… Riptalon, you’re an expert with explosives right?”

“Yeah, I consider myself a fairly knowledgeable griffon when it comes to making things go boom…” Riptalon replied.

“Okay, failing my first plan, you’re to get inside that thing and lay down as many explosives as you can, and bring it down from the inside.”

“Great…” Riptalon muttered. “That’d leave me very little time to get out before the whole damn thing collapses right on top of me, but… Suppose we all have to die sometime right?” he asked.

“Hold it, hush, the both of you!” Midnight hissed, as he heard the sound of hoofsteps, and everyone hid behind a boulder as a soldier approached, Novasurge rifle in hoof.

Quickly and quietly, Riptalon ran up behind him, and wrapped his claws around the soldier’s throat and began cutting off his airflow. Soon, the soldier slumped to the ground dead.

“There, if anyone comes looking, looks like he’s just taking a nap…” Riptalon smiled. “No questions asked.”

“Till the gunfire starts up anyways..” Midnight muttered before once again saying in Neighponiese: “Shinu mae no meiyo… Watashitachi wa hijō ni warui hi o sugoshite imasu.”

He had no idea on how right he was on that last aspect.

Cocking his rifle, Nimbus grimaced. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

He sighed, here’s hoping Henri and company were having a better time getting off this island than they were taking down the Enclave forces that called it home…

With Henri:

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the island’s coastal edges, Henri and the rest of the group were shooting their way up to the to Enclave’s landing pad, borrowed Novasurge rifles in hoof.

To their surprise, there actually was a Dust Devil waiting for them, the massive VTOL craft/gunship parked nice and neatly in front of them.

“Well, I’ll be. He actually kept his promise…” Henri mused aloud, thinking back.

In a way, she supposed, seeing Enclave soldiers turned to ash instead of shot full of holes and bleeding out was more merciful on Starglow’s psyche. If only by a little. Henri wondered, where had she lost herself, justifying things like this as merciful on a small filly’s state of mind? She supposed, it started when she met the infamous mare known as Security, AKA Blackjack.

It was some years ago, Henri had actually lost count, but she supposed it wasn’t long after she met the mare she’d come to know as Winter Breeze. Predictably, it was in a bar, AKA one of Blackjack’s favorite hangouts.

Old blues and jazz music played in the background, as Henri got herself another shot glass of whiskey. Wild Pegasus, she noted.

“Good choice, I think…” A mare’s voice complimented. The mare was mostly white, with a black and red mane, and an ace of spades as her Cutie Mark. Henri’s eyes visibly widened, she knew only one mare who fit that description. The white mare smashed her metal hoof on the bar. “Of course it’s a good choice! It’s whiskey, Goddess Dammit!”

“Your favorite type, I note.” Henri deadpanned.

The mare turned to stare at her. She had bloodshot eyes that indicated she had been crying. “Of course fucking damn it. Most think they know me but who the living hells are you?!”

“Henrietta Firebright,” Henri introduced herself. “Or Henri for short. Your choice.”

The white mare’s hoof turned into fingers offering them to shake. “Blackjack, or as most call me the maiden of the stars or that bitch that kills you.”

“Thought it was Security?” Henri asked, taking the hand and shaking it. She noted how… odd it felt to be shaking the ‘hand’ of a pony.

“Eh, whatever. I’m a failure I lose the one I love. I get blown up, and I get these. Oh, my life is so wonderful, isn’t it? Also you said your name is Firebright, didn’t you? Does that mean the wonderful juice between your legs is fire?”

Henri actually burst out laughing at that. “Yep, it’s definitely you Security. Still, some class we keep. I mean, I’m a shitty sister, and you’re a shitty mare in general.” she chuckled bitterly.

Blackjack just stared at her drink. It didn’t hit her at first, of course, slow as she was. Never said she was a smart pony, Henri remembered about Blackjack. “Oh! We are the same, never thought I’d say that. For a griffin, though I oddly find you impressive. I don’t normally feel like this towards a griffin, maybe it’s the whiskey...”

“Puh, I doubt that. I know you’d sleep with anything and everything that moves!” Henri snarked, playing a decidedly dangerous game.

“Well with how life is... It’s hellish enough not to sleep with everything. It helps you forget…” She looked at the whiskey. “Like this whiskey it makes me forget the… nightmares.”

“Believe me,” Henri muttered as she poured herself another shot. “If it were only so easy to just forget how you got your little sister killed, but for me… I suppose it’s for the best eh? Puppy wouldn’t want me drinking her memory away and making myself more of a terrible sister to her than I was already…”

“No pony is terrible unless they make themselves that way. I… made myself that way. I hurt Glory... I broke her heart...” Her voice sounded so empty, so… hollow. “I ruined my chances with her... I hurt every pony I met...” The white mare grew angrier tossing the shot glass on the ground. “Give me a fucking another one!!” She demanded slamming her metal hoof on the bar.

“No, you’ve had enough.” the bartender said in return. Big mistake. Blackjack actually lunged across the countertop and grabbed the bartender by the scruff of his shirt.

“When I ask for more, you give me motherfucking more!!” She screamed at the stallion, only for Henri to pull her back.

“Hey, you want to get thrown out, be my guest. Shame, it’d ruin that nice ass of yours if you got tossed out onto it…” Henri deadpanned, not believing what she just said, a blush gracing the sides of her facial feathers.

Blackjack dropped the stallion. Then helped him back on his hooves. “Sorry um... Whiskey gets to me.” She gets back over the bar. “You said what about my ass Griffin?”

“I said… it’s a nice one…” Henri mumbled.

Blackjack shrugs wrapping her metal hooves around the poor Griffin kissing her on the beak deeply. Henri let out a moan, surprising even herself as she let Blackjack’s tongue in.

She then broke the kiss tossing Henri on her ass. “Huh not bad...” she mused.

“Oh…” Henri groaned out in pain. “So that’s the way you want to play it?” she smirked, before tackling Blackjack to the floor and kissing her passionately.

Blackjack, of course, didn’t seem very surprised at this. She seemed rather used to it. (Big shocker to Henri) Her strange fingers glided on the back of the Griffin to add to the pleasure they felt. Henri than began nibbling at Blackjack’s neck with her beak, just as she found herself teleported to the inside of a graffiti-covered bathroom stall.

“Beak rhymes with freak for a reason, you know…” Henri mused. Blackjack only smiled at that.

“Hmm I love freaks. They make the sex more wonderful...” She purred softly. Henri smiled.

“Then, let’s get to it…” she growled out.

The white mare wrapped her hooves around Henri pulling her again into a deep kiss. Her hooves sliding along the Griffin. Her cheeks bright red not only from being drunk but also the heat of the pleasure coming off her body.

“Bitch is back, but in a good way I think…” Henri purred out her kissing starting to go lower and lower.

The white mare let out some deep pleasured moans as Henri licked the rims of her marehood. The fact that she could feel at all impressed the griffin. From how she was talked about of course being a heartless bitch. Blackjack’s moans continued to grow ever louder as Herni continued, and the stall shook a little as Blackjack shoved Henri up against a wall, before finally she released her load. Blackjack was quite keen to return the favor.

Eventually, panting and sweating and covered in their own juices, Henri and her newfound partner broke away from each other.

“Best… Best sex I ever had.” Henri panted out, and Blackjack could only laugh bitterly.

“Wow, you must have reeeeeeaallly low standards in mares.” she drawled out.

“How… how do you justify it all?” Henri had to ask. “ I mean, the death, and all the killing. It was easy when I was a mercenary, just doing what I was paid to do, but now…?”

“Sometimes I can’t. But I promised myself I would keep going... Like the Dealer told me to. I feel someday I will find the hell that will take me. But I justify it by doing what I feel I must for Equestria. Even though I don’t feel like a hero...” She softly said.

“Never said there was such a thing as a hero. Hell, I sure as hell never felt like I one, even when I let her go. Just let her get the eternal rest she needed…” Henri sniffled, thinking back to Puppysmiles.

Blackjack held Henri’s face staring into her eyes, finally remembering Henri’s name and where she’d heard it before. “You did what you had to... Henri. I heard the story of Puppysmiles from Watcher. The innocence she carried, and the fact a filly could live that long. Well, maybe not live but you know what I mean. Just to search for her mother. You did the right thing. You listen to me, don’t you ever fail like me. Don’t keep falling into this hole I’m making for myself. Someday soon, I will be asked to answer for my crimes. You can escape...“

Henri’s mind zapped itself back to reality with another press of the trigger, and another Enclave soldier turned to ash. “But I haven’t escaped, have I? Not yet… Here I am, with another filly under my charge all over again, and putting her in more danger than any child has a right to be.”

As she pulled out Black Rose and White Rose, shooting two soldiers in the head, Henri growled. She’d be damned if she let this filly die while under her watch. She turned her thoughts to Twilight, wondering what would happen if she did go insane, she was that dangerous. Nobody in their party could stop her really. Same went for the rest of her party really, the war turned ponies into different ones entirely than from when they started. History taught her that much.

“Hey, I'm the only gal in the room who doesn't have super magical powers or some sort of ace ability, and let me tell you: you guys scare me. What if you do decide to go and face off against the Enclave, taking care of whoever you think is guilty? Stormy’s charismatic, we know that much, but he’s also completely insane. How do we know some of the ponies working for him aren’t working for him out of sheer fear? Who could stop you if you did decide to go rogue? Me? Look, I'm an old lefty. The government must do for the ponies what ponies can't do for themselves. The NCR sure can't protect themselves from the likes of you guys. Trouble is, eye for an eye, everyone always ends up blind I find…” she’d told Twilight shortly before leaving, and partially, perhaps that was why she was so eager to leave this island, perhaps to leave Twilight and Nimbus to die. Ponies like them, so quick on the trigger as it were and remarkably dangerous leaving little room to trust, they honestly scared her.

Back with Nimbus, he’d set himself up in a good position, and looked through the scope, forms of Enclave soldiers coming up green. Only eight shots, but he could make do. That’s what the Trottingham borne or Trottingham descended did, they just carried on.

He watched as the barely visible forms of Midnight and Riptalon began taking out Enclave soldiers, as Twilight flew above everyone, and fired spell after spell into the cannon’s armor, before lighting up her horn and creating a huge purple blade to cleave the cannon right down the middle. Then it all went sour, a soldier got out a high-powered energy rifle Nimbus knew at once to be a SOAR, and fired it at Riptalon and Midnight, exposing them to the world as it ran amuck with the Stealthbuck’s features, shorting it out for the time period. As if to make matters worse, a lucky shot from a Star Blaster sent Twilight plummeting towards the ground, and she hit with a loud thud, sending her into unconsciousness almost in an instant.

Nimbus swore quietly, and emptied his current ammo, firing four quick shots into four various soldiers. One, the one with the SOAR, and the second with the Star Blaster who’d downed Twilight. Observe. Prioritize, Analyze, React. That was how Nimbus’s internal thought processes often went in the midst of battle. Observe every threat, prioritize the most dangerous to least dangerous, analyze how to deal with them, and then react.

As the gunfire pounded in Nimbus’ eardrums, sniper shots ringing out and small explosions from Riptalon’s grenades making a barrage of noise and chaos all around him, the sniper tried to recenter his focus, and calm himself. It wouldn’t do anyone (Except perhaps the Enclave) any good for him to lose it now. Slowing his breathing, he ran behind a boulder, and reloaded his last cartridge of ammo into End of the Line just as a shot from a Novasurge Rifle flew by his head, barely missing him by an inch.

“Just four shots left, and in this sort of a bedlam, not going to be enough…” Nimbus thought to himself, with a grimace. “Going to have to make them count…”

He took a small glance towards his left, and saw the fallen Enclave soldier Riptalon had strangled, Novasurge rifle lying beside him. He smiled devilishly to himself, that could come in handy.

But for now, Nimbus mused to himself as he peeked out from behind a boulder and got his sights back in, peering through the scope of his rifle and aiming at a soldier, this would have to do. His eyes narrowed quite considerably, and he let out a small little protective growl as he saw this same soldier about to knife Riptalon in the back.

“Not going to happen… bastard.” Nimbus thought.

He let the shot fly, (Feeling as if he was punched very hard in the shoulder by a power armored warrior) and the next thing Riptalon heard was a loud bang, and felt the brushing of air as the bullet whizzed on by his head. He quickly turned, and saw blood and brain matter shoot out the other end of a nearby soldier’s head and helmet.

Riptalon’s eyes widened as he realized just how close to that soldier was to knifing him in the back, and mentally thanked Nimbus. Riptalon let out a little laugh. Never thought he’d be doing that twice in the same day.

Nimbus was ready to fire off another shot, before he heard the crunching of hooves against rock and dirt, and he turned whipping out his borrowed combat knife and finding himself face to face with Stormy Skies himself.

“See you haven’t changed a bit,” Stormy said in his aged voice. “Always making trouble where you’re not wanted, and openly defiant of the Enclave’s laws. The archangel, she showed me the true path, and I asked: “Why do you show this to me, archangel? I'm not a strong man. I'm not a righteous man.”

“You’re damn well right about that…” Nimbus muttered, his comment going ignored as Stormy continued his preaching. Because really, what else could you call it?

“I am not a holy man.” (Nimbus scoffed at this) And she told me the most remarkable thing: “You're right, Prophet. But if grace is within the grasp of one such as you, how can anyone else not see it in themselves? When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory. One stallion goes into the waters of baptism. An entirely different buck comes out, born again. But who is that man who lies submerged? Perhaps that swimmer is both sinner and saint, until he is revealed unto the eyes of the world.”

“You going to continue that blabbering horseshit of yours, or do I have to shove a bible up your arse to keep it from talking?” Nimbus growled out, the firefight below forgotten. “I see you haven’t changed either. Still the same nonsense spouting lunatic you always were...”

“Oh, but I have changed… For the better, I might add.” Stormy replied, and for the first time, Nimbus noticed a long horn, protruding from Stormy’s skull like a lance or a jousting spear. Stormy’s great black wings had expanded as well, and he bore a much higher stature than before. His eyes widened, since when was Stormy an Alicorn? This changed the danger level he posed, considerably. Before, he was just a lunatic with a few followers that could be dealt with quick enough if everypony’s attentions were focused on him, but now…

In a reflex, Nimbus, he threw his knife right through Stormy, not even thinking he could probably throw up a shield. But I said, right through Stormy. Not even hitting flesh and bone.

“What the Hell…?” Nimbus whispered, quickly realizing Stormy wasn’t even here, he was just talking to a projection of some sort. Damn Alicorns.

“Oh, you can thank IMP for this. That cult who worships their false goddess, so helpful…” Stormy smirked. It didn’t take long for Nimbus to put the pieces together. He’d heard about a Nightmare Moon worshipping cult several times, some on the radio, and other times from random mutterings under her breath by Henri. And he remembered how Alicorns were made, with the substance known as IMP or the Impelled Metamorphosis Potion.

“You’re mad…” Nimbus muttered. Then again, Stormy, as the pegasus had already figured out long ago was mad. And a complete egomaniac. Nimbus, he’d visited Stormy’s church back in Coltumbia, and it was like a personal shrine to himself.

Celestia above, he remembered it all too well. First thing you noticed was all the dimly lit candles everywhere as you strode through pools of water with lotus blossoms floating about to create a state of calm and tranquil bliss. Of course, then there was the gilded gold statues of famous pegasi like Firefly, Flash Magnus and more recently, Spitfire with the old hymns being sung coming from seemingly all around you thanks to how the church was built.

And then there were Stormy’s monuments to himself. Oh Celestia, they took the cake. Painted portraits of him rising above a sea of chaotic pegasi, and seemingly guiding the Enclave to a state of tranquility, when the reality was anything but. He seemed personally blind to everything that went on around him, and how much everypony who wasn’t one of his little stupidass followers hated him.

“Oh, they were in a spot of trouble, so I decided to strike a deal like the good buck I am. Help them, and they’d help me. Scratch their back, and they’d scratch mine. Both of our forces are on the outs, so we thought we’d join up,” Stormy explained. Nimbus almost burst out laughing at this. Stormy was so stupid he couldn’t see just what kind of personal suicide he was committing. The Nightmare Cult was dangerous, that was for sure, given that they were alicorns. Soon as Stormy tried something, he was probably getting impaled right through the heart by the cult’s followers. (If Nimbus was to be honest, he’d probably thank them for doing the deed, right before shooting them of course.)

“Right, and you’ll betray them at the first possible opportunity once their usefulness is ended, as I know how much you love lesser species,” Nimbus replied sarcastically.

“Okay, of course, I’m going to deal with them. There’s only room for one power in the land, and it isn’t a group of mutated freaks who worship the dark god Nightmare Moon. Honestly, they should be paying me more for my protection… Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? When thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?”

Ignoring the psalm as he knew Stormy was about as likely to follow it as everyone was about as likely to start loving him, Nimbus scoffed. “Protection, that’s a laugh, considering what you just said! Besides, the government isn't the mob.” he laughed sarcastically, long and loud at the utter joke of it all and the nonsense Stormy was spouting.

“Really? Pay them every year to protect you, and Celestia help you if you don't. Isn’t that the way the Enclave and the NCR work?” Stormy asked.

“You’re so paranoid…” Nimbus muttered. “Here’s a better psalm for you, one that I think we should all pay attention to: “Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.”

Predictably, that last bit was completely ignored.

“Have to be, only way to survive anymore. Paranoid? Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.” Stormy replied. “You would know, isn’t that right… son?”

Personally, Nimbus didn’t know if Stormy meant calling him his son as some sort of religious bullshit thought up by the stallion when he started thinking himself as everypony’s savior, or if he actually believed Nimbus was his own child. Either way, Nimbus couldn’t give a damn. He sure as hell wasn’t related to this loon, and that was the end of it. Completely ignoring Stormy calling him his child, he fired back a retort of his own.

“Ponies that have trust issues only need to look in the mirror. There they will meet the one person that will betray them the most.” Nimbus shot back.

Stormy, much to Nimbus’ smug satisfaction, didn’t say much for a few minutes after that. Nimbus continued deconstructing Stormy’s entire ideology.

“Us ponies, we’re not the little blind worshippers to your ‘greatness’ that you like to think we are. Yeah, sure a slave obeys... But a pony, he chooses.” Nimbus smirked, although that was soon to fade. As ever, Stormy had some sort of comeback to that little remark. And as ever, it was completely insane. In hindsight, Nimbus really shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

“Then you’re just blighted cattle, and like all cattle with a blight, you must be… culled, Morningstar.” Stormy said giving him the nickname of Celestia’s lover, and the current ruler of Tartarus.

“What came first Stormy, your insanity upon thinking Celestia graced you, or everyone hating you and wanting you dead? The griffon, or the egg?” Nimbus asked with a smirk. Stormy growled and sputtered out a few words, unable to form a coherent sentence, before vanishing in a flash of gold light.

Nimbus actually chuckled at that. Nimbus ‘Morningstar’ Breaker. He could learn to live with that. Sometimes, he wondered, if he’d grown up in a completely different environment, would he still be the same as he was?

Tabula Rasa, the theory was called, or Blank Slate in regular Equestrian. The theory, it referred to the epistemological idea that individuals are born without built-in mental content and that therefore all knowledge comes from experience gathered over their lifetime or their own perception. Anyone who was a supporter of this theory generally disagreed with the idea that the mind was already in possession of certain aspects of knowledge. They also favoured, more often than not the "nurture" side of the classic and still ongoing nature versus nurture debate when it comes to aspects of one's personality, social and emotional behavior. Personally, Nimbus didn’t really care for psychology really.

But he did know one thing, it was most likely, that in whatever universe, Stormy Skies would always be Stormy Skies, just as A would always be A. To quote something he heard Winter Breeze spout off once: Everything that existed has a specific nature. Each entity exists as something in particular and has characteristics that are part of what it is. So in short, despite constants and variables in the multiverse theory he’d heard about, some things would never change no matter where you went.

“Ugh, think any more on that, and my brain would probably melt... “ Nimbus thought, as he grabbed the Novasurge rifle, and lined up his next shot.

Down below, Riptalon and Midnight were fighting back to back, lighting up the battlefield with weapons fire, and using the S.A.T.S in their Pipbucks to their best effects, finding weak spots in armor, and blasting holes open in them. Soon, a pathway was cleared, and they rushed inside the massive structure in front of them, shooting down any more soldiers foolish enough to get in their way. Eventually, they arrived in a large central circular shaped room, a glowing power core a few feet beyond them.

“Well, time for plan B…” Riptalon muttered nervously, taking out a few detpacks from his jacket. Midnight stared at him.

“Do I even want to know why you’re a walking explosive hazard?” Midnight asked.

“Never hurts to come prepared, I say,” Riptalon remarked. “Besides, should you really be complaining at this juncture?” he asked. Midnight was forced to concede his point.

“Fair enough…” he admitted. “So, what’s the plan, assuming this doesn’t get us both killed in the process?”

Tossing one of the detpacks to Midnight, Riptalon replied: “Line these up on each of the load bearing beams, and I’ll put some around the power core. Now once these are armed, we have about three minutes before the whole place comes down around on top of us, maybe less.”

“So, no pressure…” Midnight joked weakly.

“Just shut up, and get to work.” Riptalon snapped. Fairly soon, about half of the detpacks were placed around the room, and that’s when the trouble began as a fairly large platoon of Enclave soldiers burst in, armed to the tooth.

“I thought Nimbus was supposed to be giving us covering fire!” Midnight shouted.

“He’s only one pony, not an entire army as much as I’d like him to be right now…” Riptalon muttered, pulling out Lawgiver.

“Guess we’ll have to substitute. Won’t he be pleased when I tell him I took down a whole hoard of Enclave soldiers?” Midnight joked as he went for his rifle. And soon, the firefight began, the two dodging and weaving between the crimson-orange plasma shots, every so often using the other as covering fire as they laid down detpacks on support beams.

It became a blur of ashes and blood in both’s eyes, as the two worked together in tandem -A perfect harmony and synchronicity- and quickly learning each other’s maneuvers to take down whatever soldier was in front of the other at the time. Whatever Riptalon did, Midnight mirrored and vice versa. Back to back, they stood against the approaching hoard that seemed to have no end in sight.

But still, the reinforcements came, and Riptalon knew they couldn’t hold out much longer, even as he reloaded Lawgiver for the next wave. So it seemed, all forces on the island had come out to play, popping out of the woodworks whenever prompted.

As they took cover behind a set of metal crates, Midnight looked at Riptalon.

“You go on ahead, I’ll give you the best covering fire I can. Blow this place sky-high!” Midnight stated sternly.

“But… But they’ll kill you! You can’t possibly hold them all off!” Riptalon snapped back.

“I know that, but I’ll buy you time. And hey, you wanted to fight alongside me one day, didn’t you? Just be proud that the day you did, you saw me at my best.”

“Yeah… that I did…” Riptalon muttered, and without thinking, lunged forwards and kissed Midnight passionately. The younger pony moaned as he let his tongue slip into Riptalon’s mouth briefly wrapping his forelegs around him, before pulling away.

“What… what’d you do that for?” Midnight asked in surprise.

“Please, young buck like you? Always worrying about killing me, and the war? Bet you never had time to consider dating. Making it up to you, just a little,” Riptalon smiled sadly. “Now go get ‘em. Shinu mae no meiyo, right? Honor before death?”

Midnight nodded, and pulled out his rifle and let the shots fly even as Riptalon ran for the power core, the griffon never looking back not wanting to see what happened next. He shut his eyes tightly, fighting back tears as he heard the scream.

“Alright you bastards, now you’re really asking for it…” Riptalon thought to himself, rage and fury filling him as he set a few detpacks on the power core, and primed them before running for it down a hallway towards a side exit. A few Enclave soldiers got in his way, but were blasted to bloody chunks by point-blank blasts from Lawgiver.

Hard Law, but the Law indeed.

Eventually, he made it out just in time to watch the fireworks go down, or up to be more accurate.

Riptalon smiled in grim satisfaction as he saw the anti-air cannon go up in flowers of red and orange fire, but his eyes widened as he saw a steel girder come flying right towards him, launched by the force of the explosions. He braced himself for death, but it never came as a blast of purple magic cleaved it in half right down the middle. He looked up, and saw Twilight standing right next to him, horn alight and a furious expression cast upon her muzzle. She’d felt Midnight’s signature vanish as soon as she woke up from her quick nap, and now she wanted blood. Perhaps Henri was right about her, she mused, she was nothing but a madmare who would turn on anyone at the worst possible moment and nopony could stop her if she did. But Twilight fought back her urges, revenge would solve nothing, it wouldn’t bring Midnight back. It wouldn’t bring any of her friends back.

“Thank… thank you.” Riptalon whispered to the former Princess of Friendship. He fought back the urge to actually bow at her, realizing for the first time just how powerful of a force she was to them, and if properly swayed, could be a major player and gamechanger in the war. That was, if they got out of this little situation first.

“Not out of the woods yet. Fact is, I’d say we only reached a small clearing and ran right through it back into the Manticore’s maw.” she replied, as Nimbus joined them (Sliding down the hillside) just in time for them to get all ready for battle as what was left of the Enclave recovered from their shock and horror and armed themselves.

As Twilight, Riptalon and Nimbus stood their ground, waiting for what came next, they were surprised when they heard the whir of a turbine engine, and saw what remained of the Enclave forces being cut to bloody ribbons by a minigun as the distinctive shape of a Dust Devil rose over the horizon.

Nimbus smiled as he saw Henri at the controls. “I knew she’d come…” he thought.

“I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has had to overcome while trying to succeed.” -Booker Washington

Author's Note

And so we come to the end of this arc at last. Hooray. Okay... So, ah, yes. Midnight's death scene. Honestly, I really was running out of ideas on what to do with him, character-wise, so I figured the best course of action was to just... let him go. I did get permission from his creator to do this, with a proviso, namely that he went out in a way that was memorable and not just a shocking moment that comes out of the blue like Steelhooves' death. Also... Ah, yes, Henri and Blackjack's (Credit to the latter goes to Somber, and his story Project Horizons.) sex scene. I did have to get a little help with this, along with asking Mimezinga's permission for obvious reasons. So, thank you Megaskullmon.

Also, thank you Ruinqueen for writing up the small little transmission that dealt with the Steathbucks' presence on the island, and explaining how they're used and how to disable them.

Funny little side note, I built this whole chapter around Stormy and Nimbus's little verbal pissing match, and just worked from there. Actually on that, Stormy's new nickname. Originally, it was going to be the Deathbringer, but I decided that was a bit too on the nose as it were, and then I remembered Morningstar, which given how Stormy thinks himself as a god, I thought was very meaningful given Morningstar is one of the Devil's names believe it or not. (Plus, it allowed me to make reference to one of Ruinqueen's stories.)

Anyways, as ever, comments, thoughts, and constructive critique are always welcomed.

Part 22: Memento Mori

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.” -George S. Patton

Inside the Dust Devil, all was silent. It was almost like the whirring of the turbines that powered the VTOL gunship (Or dropship, depending on how it was made) didn’t exist, drowned out by the silence inside the vehicle that enveloped it. Target, who’d been given back End of the Line, couldn’t be bothered to inspect it, as everyone knew what had just happened. When asked where Midnight was, Riptalon had only hung his head giving everyone their answer.

Speaking of the griffon, currently, he sat in thought, thinking back to the very last words he’d ever heard his new, but rather short-lived ally ever said.

“You go on ahead, I’ll give you the best covering fire I can. Blow this place sky-high!” Midnight stated sternly.

“But… But they’ll kill you! You can’t possibly hold them all off!” Riptalon snapped back.

“I know that, but I’ll buy you time. And hey, you wanted to fight alongside me one day, didn’t you? Just be proud that the day you did, you saw me at my best.”

“What… what’d you do that for?” Midnight asked in surprise.

His claws clenched tightly as he thought to himself: “Goddamnit… They always have to die so young… It’s true, the Wastes, they take you in, and spit you out… War is Hell huh? No, War is not hell. War is filled with innocents, Hell isn't.”

That last phrase would be something Riptalon, amongst others, would find themselves repeating in the many months to come.

Finally, the silence was broken, by Nimbus of all ponies

“Henri, why’d you come back for us? ...Why, just why?” He asked. He hadn’t forgotten what Henri had said to both him and Twilight. Well, it was said to Twilight, but it was very obviously directed at him as well. He just knew it.

“Fl-Fluttershy? S-She’s still alive?” Twilight asked, scarcely able to believe it.

“And still inspiring ponies to be kind. Just ask Velvet Remedy sometime, eh?” Target asked. Twilight nodded, and performed a small spell on Riptalon’s ripped apart and bloody claw.

“No, this is my mission alone.” Nimbus snarled, but Riptalon was having none of that.

“He’s right,” Target said, tossing Nimbus End of the Line. “Take this, you’re going to need it. ...Just come back safe, okay?”

“Hey, I'm the only gal in the room who doesn't have super magical powers or some sort of ace ability, and let me tell you: you guys scare me. What if you do decide to go and face off against the Enclave, taking care of whoever you think is guilty? Stormy’s charismatic, we know that much, but he’s also completely insane. How do we know some of the ponies working for him aren’t working for him out of sheer fear?” she asked. “Who could stop you if you did decide to go rogue? Me? Look, I'm an old lefty. The government must do for the ponies what ponies can't do for themselves. The NCR sure can't protect themselves from the likes of you guys. Trouble is, eye for an eye, everyone always ends up blind I find…”

“You’re scared of us,” Twilight replied. “That’s good of you. Who’s to say we wouldn’t go rogue, and just tear everything down, and build it from the ground up? I know, with my powers, I could be a god. A tyrant even. So go on, leave us to die, as we probably will be doing that within the next few hours. I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest.”

“Twilight’s right, we could probably take on the whole of Stormy Skies’ Enclave, provided we get no unexpected surprises, and Winter Breeze’s as well, if we were so inclined. If we survive this, we could build up an army, and gather up enough of a force to take down both Enclaves, and the NCR and make this Wasteland ours,” Nimbus put in, and for the first time, everyone began to see just why Stormy picked him as one of his right-hand ponies for his conquest of Coltlumbia. He never backed down from a challenge, and was willing to die for his cause. “You’d have every reason to be scared of us. I’ve heard the old tales, about when Tempest Shadow and the Storm King invaded Canterlot, and took it down in one clean stroke, and if not for the intervention of one Ditzy Doo, would have had all the Princesses and their power. Bam, he could have taken Canterlot and the rest of Equestria in one swift stroke had that one little mare not jumped in front of Twilight here. If we had that sort of power, and I gather there’s still some of the Storm King’s technology around, we could very well do the same to the rest of the Alicorns, and deal with both Winter and Stormy. So if I was you, I’d run, hard and fast and hope we don’t get any ideas about finding you.”

Nervously nodding, Henri and company started off towards the landing pad a few miles away.

“Now…” Nimbus said to his group, those who were willing to follow him into the jaws of Hell. “The Light is Green! Weapons-Free zone everyone!”

“Celestia and Luna above, I was so fucking arrogant for thinking I could take on Stormy, much less two Enclaves and the NCR, when you had to come and save all of our hides and reduce those soldiers to mincemeat...” Nimbus muttered in self-disgust, putting his face into his hooves. “So… why? Why did you come back?”

Henri took a long sigh, before she answered, the words taking even longer to come out of her beak.

“In all honesty? I’m really not sure myself…” Henri commented, as she flew the Dust Devil beyond the boundaries of Mount Pleasant Island, mist on all sides of the cockpit window. “Perhaps… Perhaps Blackjack, believe it or not, had something to do with it…”

Riptalon adjusted himself in his seat, as he and Nimbus turned to stare at her.

“Blackjack?” Riptalon asked. “Blackjack? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Henri sighed again, before flashing back.

It was just after the Dust Devil had lifted off for the first time, after Henri and company had cleared the landing pad of all hostiles, and piled into the gunship’s seats before the rear door closed behind them.

Slowly, but surely, it began to lift off, and in a few short moments, was over the coastlines of the Island, and beginning to leave it far behind.

“So, just like that, we’re leaving them?” Target asked. “Just like that, leaving them to die via the hooves of a madman, and his soldiers outfitted with some of the most dangerous weapons one could get their hooves on?”

“Yes, yes we are.” Henri stated definitively in a tone that left no room for argument. “We’ve got a job to do, get Starglow out of here, and get her to safety. Then, we come back for whoever’s left.”

“Bull.” Target snarled, as she rose from her seat. “I don’t know why the Element of Magic picked you, but you share none of Twilight’s qualities.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing!” Henri shouted at her, her anger and frustration finally boiling over. “Because I don’t know if I’ve been slipped some Psycho or something, but she’s one of the many reasons we’re in this damn predicament in the first place! Now, I don’t blame her for destroying the old world and turning it into this hellhole, not completely as there’s plenty of blame to go around for that, but I blame her for getting us involved in this foolhardy mission to save Pupp-Starglow, and destroy the Enclave on this island!”

Target had caught Henri’s brief slip-up, right before she said Starglow she’d briefly started to say Puppysmiles.

“You don’t think I’ve heard the stories about the Ghost of the Long 52, and the rumors of your involvement in them? Henri, you need to mare up, and quit blaming yourself! Her death was not your fault, it was that damn nightmare being inside her! Nobody else’s! So stop living in the damn past, and start thinking about the bloody present! Or maybe you’re not the big sister you like to think yourself as, as I sure as HELL wouldn’t want you to be my big sister if I was in Puppy’s place!” Target shouted at her. “Because here you are, leaving Nimbus and company to die, just like you did Puppysmiles! Only this time, you’re not going to see them pass on, as you’re abandoning them to the hooves of the Enclave!”

She knew her words were harsh, and somewhat untrue, but Target also knew Henri needed a firm slap to the face as it were, and it seemed to have worked, as Henri looked as if she’d been physically struck. She flashed back to what happened after her little one-night stand with Blackjack.

“You did what you had to... Henri. I heard the story of Puppysmiles from Watcher. The innocence she carried, and the fact a filly could live that long. Well, maybe not live but you know what I mean. Just to search for her mother. You did the right thing. You listen to me, don’t you ever fail like me. Don’t keep falling into this hole I’m making for myself. Someday soon, I will be asked to answer for my crimes. You can escape...“ Henri whispered repeating Blackjack word for word, before she let out a little snarl and whispered, too softly for anyone to hear: “Winter, Blackjack… as much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right. Been carrying this weight around for far too long, and now I’ve just got to look towards the future…”

She turned, and looked at Starglow who’d been watching and listening to this entire exchange. Henri let out a small sniffle and whispered: “Puppy, forgive me for being such a shitty sister and not honoring your memory the way I should have…” before her claws went for the controls, face tightening as she did so and she turned the entire ship around, back towards Mount Pleasant Island, back towards Nimbus. “Ante up.” Henri whispered.

“That’s why… All because of Blackjack, and our resident sniper here…” Henri replied. “Knocked some sense into me that I desperately needed…” she muttered, more than a tinge of shame in her tone.

“There’s… There’s something I think we need to all consider. The Enclave, they knew we were coming.” Nimbus stated.

“Of course they knew we were coming, didn’t you hear Stormy’s transmission from that hijacked Sprite-Bot?” Henri asked. “He knew we were coming, and prepared for us every step of the way...:”

“Yes, but someone had to give him this information. Sure, us shooting up his soldiers and causing him trouble letting him know someone was on his island, and same with the Dust Devils that greeted us, they were just defending their territory,” NImbus said. “But it’s the battle at the cannon where everything falls apart. How’d they know Twilight would be coming? How they’d know we’d be using Stealthbucks? How’d they know I’d be sniping everyone from under cover of darkness?”

Henri and Target shared a look, eyes widening as they slowly realized what Nimbus was getting at…

“When an enemy knows too much…” Target trailed off.

“Yeah, chances are we have a rat,” Nimbus stated. “Now, you could argue I alerted them to everything, as these are all battle tactics I’d use when storming the castle as it were, and I’m former Enclave, but that’s where your argument would fall apart. Former, emphasis on that. It’s fairly obvious by this point that I hate Stormy Skies far too much to sell you all out to him. I want him dead, and I’m willing to take whoever I can get to kill him, and find my brother. So, the mind begins to wonder… Who?”

His gaze, along with everyone else turned to Riptalon. “No, it’s not you. You were willing to give up everything you ever knew for your government, similar to me, to protect what you cared for. In your case, the peace and tranquility of the Wasteland, and in mine, my brother.” Nimbus said, before he continued. “So, I’m willing to guess that Mid-”

“Shut up,” Riptalon snarled, his claws clenching. “Just shut up, you hear me? He’s no member of the Enclave. He’s an Earth Pony, they’d never even let him join, they’d just shoot him on the spot!”

“And yet we know very little about him… Seriously, nopony in the NCR knows very much about the stallion,” Target added. “Plus, Stormy was able to convince some of the native pegasi of the island to join him in his cause, was he not?”

“And then there’s another thing,” Nimbus put in, ignoring the look on Riptalon’s face that said he wanted to rip Nimbus to shreds right about now. It was only Twilight’s magic that held him back from doing so. Whispering an apology to Henri, he continued. “Stormy, he’s allied himself with the Nightmare Cult.”

“WHHHHHAT!?!” Henri roared, the Dust Devil jerking in mid-air slightly as she momentarily let go of the controls.

“Yes, even went as far to get ahold of some IMP, and made himself an Alicorn,” Nimbus continued, ignoring the outburst. “Now, of course, he’s going to backstab them in the end, we all know he will, but this opens up the possibilities Stormy’s very willing to ally himself with anyone, as long as it furthers his cause. So as much as I hate to admit it, Midnight’s a very good candidate for ratting us out.”

Riptalon let out a little snarl. “So why aren’t you blaming Twilight for all of this as well? She could have easily let Stormy know what we were doing!”

“If you were less furious, you’d be thinking rationally. Twilight was never with us for all the time, so she didn’t know everything we were doing right up till we got in contact with her, she didn’t know we were coming to the island, and besides, given how much she hates the Enclave, and their ideals, and believes she failed Equestria and it’s populace, do you really think she’d ally herself with someone who would destroy everything the nation was once founded upon? A madman who takes Celestia’s beliefs of forgiveness and such, and twists them in such a way to suit his own madness and delusions?” Nimbus stated, his voice coming across cold and uncaring, but logical.

“He’s… He’s right. I’d never let myself or my teacher’s ideals be twisted in such a way. I’d be going back on everything I stood for, everything those I loved, and who loved me in return stood for…” Twilight whispered, thinking back.

It was back around the time when we had first started working on the Stable 13 project. We had just finished getting the last of the equipment finalized for the project so I was getting ready to head home after a day’s work.

“Alright, send the proposals to Apple Bloom over at Stable-Tec,” I said with a sigh as I passed the files over to my assistant.

“Yes ma’am,” she said and headed out while I leaned back in my chair.

Stable 13 was a special project that I had worked out with Stable-Tec. Not that it was an easy task, but they had agreed to give us the Stable in return for some funding and equipment. It was more a precaution than anything else, we just had to make sure that everything was in place.

Of course it wasn’t just the Stable, but that’s another story. Sorry, I’m getting off subject again, you’re not here to hear about what happened to Stable 13.

I was about to head out of the office when there was a knock on the door. I blinked when I opened it to see Pinkie Pie standing out there with her mane looking deflated, that was never a good sign.

“Pinkie, what’s wrong?”

“Have you been listening to the radio?” She asked and I shook my head.

“No, I’ve been too busy working on this project,” I answered, though something about this worried me all of a sudden. “What happened?”

“The Zebras, they tried to assassinate Queen Novo!” Pinkie said and my eyes went wide at that.

“Why? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know, I think they were trying to get the Hippogriffs to change sides or something…” Pinkie said with a shake of her head. “They didn’t get Novo though they got…”

She just broke down crying at that and I hugged her. She didn’t have to say it, I already had an idea of who she meant based on what she had said, and my heart broke at the very idea.

Princess Skystar had been killed by the attack.

“Pinkie… I’m sorry…” I said softly as I hugged her tight. “I know you loved her very much. If you ever need somepony to help, just let me know.”

Pinkie sniffed a little as she hugged me tightly and cried into my withers. I patted her on the back gently and held her close for the longest moment. I just wished that I could help her somehow, I just wasn’t sure how.

“Why did she have to die…” Pinkie said through her sobs. “Why did the Zebras have to kill her?”

“I wish I could tell you Pinkie,” I said with a sigh as I shook my head. “War is senseless, and with everything that’s going on… I really wish that there was more I could say.”

We held that for a long moment as we hugged more. I looked up at the clock for a moment and sighed a little. “Pinkie, you’re going to be okay.”

“You really think so?”

“I hope so, yeah,” I said and lifted her chin up. “And I promise that I’m going to be here to help you as much as I can. Sky Star wouldn’t want you to suffer because of her death, you should live on and make sure that you have a good life.”

Pinkie nodded a little and smiled gently. “I’d like to think so. Hopefully, everything will be okay after all…”

“Well, how about this, I’ll take you back home with me, I need to get back for dinner with Eclipse anyway,” I suggested with a smile. “I’m sure she’d love to see you again, what do you say?”

“I’d, like that,” Pinkie said with a smile.

“Alright, come on, let's go,” I said and released the hug as we headed out of the office together.

Pinkie was a good pony, but the death of Princess Skystar was something that had lead to everything that had happened to her. She was never the same after that day, and no matter how hard we tried, we never could get her to truly recover. Even after me and Fizzlepop broke up, (Her citing how we were too different, though I deeply suspected she wanted to push me towards Pinkie to try and help her) things never really were the same.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe there was a chance she could’ve recovered after the war if it hadn’t gone so badly.

I guess we’ll never know.

“Oh, Twilight…” Target whispering, bringing the much larger pony in for a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t bring them back, I’ve long accepted that,” Twilight said. “I’ve cried enough tears, and shut myself away for far too long trying to figure myself out. Lacunae, that Alicorn friend of Blackjack’s, she may have freed me from the Goddess… No, Trixie’s control, but…”

“We understand.” Target said. Then, Twilight turned to Starglow.

“As soon as we find safety, or a semblance of that, I’ll explain everything that I know, what’s happened over the years.”

“Are you sure that’s… wise?” Target questioned.

“She needs to know,” Nimbus said in one of his tones that left no room for argument on the subject. “For better, or for worse.”

Soon, as they entered free air-space, the Pipbuck radio crackled to life.

“Hello Wastelanders, greetings everypony out there in Pony Post-Post-Apocalyptia, this is your favorite DJ coming at you loud and proud!” Xiraia’s voice came in over the radio. During the few times he’d heard it over Homage’s voice, he’d picked up somehow that there was something off about her voice. He couldn’t quite put his hoof on it, but it was almost like it wasn’t her real voice, he just couldn’t figure out why he thought that, or prove it. “Now, I’ve been getting some real juicy news as of late? Remember that group I told you who went off to Mount Unpleasant Island a while back, and haven’t been heard from since? Just heard from a little birdie that something on the island went sky-high, boom! Whatever happened out there, I’m willing to bet you my Cutie Mark that they were involved. And if they just served the Enclave their asses on a silver platter, well, I just want to say this. Damn fucking good job! There’s a quote that I think fits here. It goes: “You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.” And now, some music just for them, a song of victory, a song of peace that I hope is soon to come…”

“Some hope for the future
Some wait for the call

To say that the days ahead

Will be the best of all

“We will build bridges

Up to the sky

Heavenly lights surrounding

You and I

“From out of the darkness

Our future will come

If we leave the past behind

We'll fly beyond the sun

“We'll be together

Sharing the load

Watching in wonder as our lives unfold…”

So, if it was a song of victory and peace, why did this battle feel like it ended in a defeat, Nimbus and everyone else had to ask themselves.

Author's Note

Okay, first off, really want to thank Ruinqueen for taking the time out of her schedule to write Twilight's flashback. Can never thank her enough for her contributions.

Now, not much really to say on this chapter, except the fact, the obvious fact was the curb-stomp battle that was the destruction of the anti-air cannon was to not only complete Midnight's character arc, but to open up new questions, and to knock Nimbus's ego down a few pegs.

Now, we don't really enter another story arc for a while, as the next few chapters are moments of brief relaxation before this story catches up to Survivor's Guilt and the First (Second?) Battle of Manehatten where if you've read that story, when Winter's Enclave takes control over Tenpony Tower and the Celestia One Megaspell.

Part 23: Missionary Stallion

Eventually, the Dust Devil did land on a small isolated part of the mainland’s shoreline, with the whole area being covered in a fine, thick mist thanks to the weather conditions that were often part and parcel to living near Mount Pleasant Island. However, this pea soup-like fog did lend itself to making the landing as quiet as possible, with the Dust Devil going unnoticed as it landed on the beach.

“Fucking great!” Nimbus shouted from somewhere in the mist, not even caring that Starglow was well within earshot, or that Twilight smacked him over the back of the head. “More fog! And I thought we were through with the damn stuff as soon as we left that damned island!”

Several small stinging zaps hit him in the left hind leg.

“...Real fucking hoot and a half, this is,” Nimbus muttered to himself, his temper thoroughly flayed from his experiences on the island. If he were in a better mood, he probably would have restrained himself, knowing perfectly well this was a good way to give away their position -fog or no fog- and either get shot full of holes, or become some Fog Crawler’s dinner.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say he’s pissed…” Riptalon muttered to Henri.

“Master of being Captain Obvious, you are,” she replied, in a flat tone of voice towards the massive griffon. She too had started to share Nimbus’ suspicions that he wasn’t a regular griffon, and possibly at least a portion Ursagryph. Sure, there was sexual dimorphism among griffons, but Riptalon’s size was ridiculous even for a griffon male! Then again, it was entirely possible he’d spent a little too much time around radioactive waste, and had mutated a little. Who’s to say, really?

“If his eyes start glowing a deathly red or yellow or something like that, then we’ll know,” Henri thought. “But, till then…”

“Celestia, it’s cold…” Starglow shivered, with Twilight using a wing to bring her closer to her, with Starglow lovingly nestling herself in the Alicorn’s soft downy feathers.

“Well, we could always find an Angler or two, and cut ‘em open and sleep inside their guts for the night…” Nimbus suggested. “Bound to be a few ‘round here somewhere. Just look for a light lurking within a patch of weeds.”

“Yeah, we know how to find Anglers, it’s just we’re not that desperate… yet.” Riptalon replied, with a small shudder at the sheer idea of sleeping inside a dead Angler’s carcass.

“Suit yourself,” Nimbus replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m just being practical.”

“Practical as the solution is,” Henri replied. “I’m not entirely sure we’d be able to find a body that could fit our resident Alicorn here,” she continued, gesturing to Twilight, who’d lit up her horn lasting a small purple glow to cut through the fog. “Or Riptalon for that matter.”

“No small matter in his case,” Nimbus commented. “I’ll just use his body as a big fluffy pillow like last time!” he laughed.

Eventually, the group made their way up the beach up a small hillside path, and wandered over a small bridge that was over a small stream that trickled down into the sea below. In the distance, waves could be heard crashing up against the rock walls.

“...You’re really not going to let that one go, are you?” Riptalon asked in a resigned, and somewhat saddened tone, as laughter came from all around him. Who he was talking to or why he seemed somewhat forlorn, no-one had a clue honestly, as the massive griffon seemed to stare off into the distance at nothing in particular. He quickly recovered, and turned to Henri.

“Speaking of resident Alicorns, how exactly are we going to hide Twilight’s presence from everyone?” he asked. “Alicorns are one thing, yes, but an Alicorn that just so happens to look like the supposedly dead Twilight Sparkle?”

“Technically, I am dead,” Twilight remarked as she picked up a lantern hanging off a small post and handed it to Nimbus after lighting it with a small purple fire. “But I see your point. Relax, I’ll figure something out,” she commented, before she let a smile reach her face as she saw a piece of tarp lying on the ground, and pulled it over herself. “Not the best choice of fashion, I admit, but it’ll do. Best thing? One advantage to being a giant unicorn is that few bother you with why you are a giant unicorn,” she said sagely before she frowned. “Huh, looks like Lacunae’s personality is kicking up again. Seem to remember her remarking on that once, somewhere in this head of mine.”

“Well, she’s got a point,” Riptalon admitted. “Worst thing we’ll probably get asked is why someone who’s with the NCR chooses to wear tarp as a fashion choice and make themselves look like a Raider.”

“You’ve seen Raiders wear tarps?” Twilight asked, looking towards him.

“You’d be surprised what kind of idiotic fashion statements ponies and such wear when they get desperate,” he remarked with a small laugh, before Riptalon quickly realized who he was talking to and backtracked. “N-no offense intended, of course!”

“None taken,” Twilight replied with a small nod. “In all fairness, I am sorta desperate…”

Then, a thought came to her, and she stopped in her tracks as she put a hoof to her chin.

“Something wrong, Auntie Twilight?” Starglow asked worriedly. Twilight smiled a little -one of those small, sad smiles she was so fond of- at being called an aunt before she sighed.

“Yeah, it’s just I remember a Stable was built out here, or somewhere close to here,” Twilight replied. “Provided memory doesn’t fail me in my old age.” she joked.

“How’d you know a Stable’s out here?” Henri asked, in a tone of exasperation. “We don’t even know where ‘here’ is!”

“I do now.” Twilight replied, gesturing to a nearby sign that read: “Welcome to Horseshoe Bay!” complete with a cheesy image of a pony smiling far too happily for anyone’s liking and kicking a beach ball over a net.

“...Well, suppose that’d do it wouldn’t it?” Riptalon deadpanned. “Suppose we can’t just knock on the Stable doors like a little bunch of Filly Scouts only without the cookies and uniforms and ask if we can get a place for us to stay for the night?”

“Or in his case, Missionary Stallion,” Henri quipped pointing with a claw towards Nimbus, laughing a little at the image of Riptalon in a Filly Scout’s uniform going up to a door and selling cookies.

“Ex-Missionary stallion,” Nimbus corrected. “But I see your point. We’re a rag-tag bunch, a motley crew and Celestia above, we must look like crap covered in blood, mire, and Celestia-knows-what-else. I doubt anypony’s going to just welcome us into their humble abodes with open forelegs.”

“Well, only one way to find out,” Henri replied. “Lead the way, Twilight.”

Eventually, they reached the massive stable doors, the number long ago rendered illegible by centuries of rain and wind. Riptalon, half expecting for mini-turrets or something else to pop up out of the ground and rip him to shreds, -He’d long ago figured out how paranoid some Stable-Dwellers could be, not that he could blame them at times- carefully knocked on the door with his Novasurge rifle.

It broke in half from how forcibly it was used, but Riptalon didn’t mind. He’d found it an unneeded encumberment anyways, and more to the point he hated them for who they belonged to and what kind of message they generally sent out if you were carrying one. Usually something along the lines of: “I bring trouble your way, shoot me full of holes if you want to live!” more often than not.

Riptalon waited for a few minutes, expecting the turrets or something to pop up out of the ground, before he let out a sigh of relief when no such thing happened. Mind you, the door didn’t open either, but he was still alive.

“There, you happy?” Riptalon asked angrily. “Bunch of jackasses, standing around in the cold foggy rain, in front of a Stable door which will not open, and the only reason I’m probably still alive is that the self-defense mechanisms didn’t kick in! Bet you guys and gals think this is real funny, don’t you?”

“Well, if you’re not dead…” Nimbus trailed off in that emotionless tone of his. “Sadly, no. It isn’t funny in the slightest.”

Riptalon blanched, for the briefest of moments seeing a pure black pony in Nimbus’s place, while everyone else stared at the pegasus.

“...You’ve got issues Breaker.” Target remarked.

“Oh, so you’re just now you’re figuring this out?” Nimbus snapped, his tumultuous mix of emotions finally boiling over and exploding. “I’m an ex-missionary assassin pony who used to work for a lunatic who thought Celestia was on his side as he slaughtered anyone who wasn’t a member of the Enclave! And, I might add, a pony who barely escaped him and lost his brother in the damn process! So yes, of course, I’ve got a few issues!” he roared, barely holding back tears as he threw a hoof up in the air in frustration. “You think I asked for my life to turn out this fucked up!?!”

As the dam finally broke, and Nimbus started crying, he found two massive purple wings wrapped around him as Twilight pulled him into a hug, and he, for whatever reason snuggled into her chest fur as he cried.

“Shh…” Twilight whispered, rubbing the back of his head with a wing. “It’s alright, my little pony. I’m here. I’m here…” she told him, sounding almost exactly like one would imagine Princess Celestia used to. “Just let it out, just let it all out.”

“I… I don’t…” Nimbus sobbed, unable to actually form coherent sentences. “I never wanted…”

“I understand,” Twilight whispered. “And it’s okay, I’m here. You, you needed this, didn’t you? Somepony to just talk to, someone who actually understands what you’re going through,”

“How… How can you understand me?” Nimbus choked out, his voice rather raspy and raw. “You didn’t grow up in Coltlumbia, get indoctrinated into the Enclave’s madness and do what I did.”

“Maybe not,” Twilight said softly, kindly. “But I have to live with the fact that no matter what anyone says, or tries to tell me otherwise, I’m partially responsible for the fact that Equestria went to Hell in a Bucket, as the saying goes. And that, I think is even worse than any atrocities you may have committed under Stormy’s regime. If I hadn’t screwed up, he never would have come to power, his ideology may never have begun. May have been stopped as soon as he even thought of it. Who knows, in a different world, you, me, and Riptalon probably would have met under far happier circumstances. I probably would have been all too proud to have you in my personal guard, alongside F-Fizzlepop,” Twilight whispered, stumbling over the words of her lost love. It was clear, even two hundred years and one other marefriend later, she still loved her. “You three, you might have been quite the team.”

“Yeah, might have,” Nimbus whispered. “Like you said, who knows? C-Constants and Variables, right?” he asked, remembering what those two ponies with a bird and a cage for Cutie Marks often liked to spout off.

“Yeah, maybe,” Twilight told him. “You going to be okay now?”

“Far from it, probably never will be completely,” Nimbus admitted. “But I’ll probably be a little less screwed up now. Depends on what happens when Stormy’s in the ground, because mark my words, I will be the one to put him there. Mark me,” he growled out, “So mark me, I will put Stormy Skies, and anyone who follows him in the ground, and show them just why Stormy saw it fit to nickname me: ‘Morningstar.’ You know what they say about death being a pale horse?” he asked. “Maybe he’s not just that, at least to these arseholes.”

Needless to say, a few took a step or so back from him.

“Uh, Twilight,” Henri asked nervously. “Might want to cover yourself back up. Just saying, in case someone does answer.”

“Good point,” Twilight admitted, throwing the tarp back over her wings. Just then, as lights began to flash orange, the massive cog shaped device that functioned as the Stable door began to slowly slide open.

“Oh, so now it opens!” Riptalon exclaimed.

A strange metal rod was tossed outside. With a note on it, in fact. Said metal rod ended up hitting Riptalon on the head. Rubbing his forehead in pain, and muttering none too kind words under his breath, Riptalon read the note. It read: “Be like a unicorn and screw off.”

“Oh, cute, real cute,” Riptalon muttered. “Lovely, the one Stable we come to, probably for miles even, wants us to get lost! Gawd, I’m probably going to die surrounded by the biggest bunch of idiots in the Wasteland! Thank you, Twilight, for directing us to this place!” he snapped.

An old stallion stood in front of the door. “Forgive the young ones, they don’t wish to see outside creatures.”
“Creatures!?!” Henri balked, looking rather offended.

“Miss, what do you want me to say? I haven’t ever seen any of your species before.” The old stallion replied softly, coughing as he did so.

“Fair point…” Henri grumbled. “Listen, what seems to be the issue? Maybe we can help.”

She noted the distrustful look the older stallion gave her when he saw her NCR garb.

“Well, there is one issue. It’s your attire…” the older stallion said slowly, before there was the cocking of a gun’s hammer. A young unicorn mare aimed her pistol at Henri she looked so upset at the fact she was here.

“Are you here to steal more of us?!” The unicorn mare held the gun in her magic like she never held a gun in her life. She was panicked, and it showed, Henri’s eyes widened, she’d seen that panic somewhere before, and she knew where.

“Piss off a mother at your peril…” She thought.

The old stallion forced the mare back. He then turned back to them wearing a weak smile.

“I am sorry about that but an NCR group stole some of our young ones to make their marijuana. We mean you no harm miss...”

“Henrietta Firebright. Well, you don’t, but her?” Henri asked. “Let me explain something to you,” she told the young mare as she carefully took a few steps forwards, tossing her pistols aside. No sense in looking like any more of a threat than she already did.

“S-Stay back!” the mare shouted, but Henri continued slowly walking forwards.

“Please tell me she’s finally lost her mind…” Riptalon muttered, but Target shook her head.

“No, I think I know what she’s doing. Let her talk.” the sharpshooter replied.

“I need to explain something to you about something. Take the way you hold your weapon. Ever been to a firearms safety course in your life? Two things tell me you haven’t,” she remarked. “One, you're holding the gun sideways. You can't aim it, and two, it'll eject the cartridge right into your face.”

“Sugar, please lower the weapon and allow her to help you. Maybe she can get your foal back. Then we can welcome them here like we did with those two others who came along this way,” the older stallion suggested. Henri raised an eyebrow at the mention of two others but brushed that thought aside for the moment.

“You know, if I were younger, I’d ask to get paid in caps, as I’m hardly one of Velvet Remedy’s little Followers, not that you’d know who they are I suspect,” Henri told them both. “But times have changed, I’m a little older and wiser now, and to be honest, I do know what it’s like to care for a child. Your foal, what’s his name?” she asked Sugar kindly.

Sugar lowered the gun. What was odd though the gun didn’t have ammo in it. Henri noted that and shook her head. Brave mare, if a bit foolish. “His late father named him Brewer. Since my husband was a tea brewer.”

“Unimaginative, but okay. I’ve heard stranger, I suppose…” Henri admitted. “So, this little group of NCR soldiers, where do they like to grow their weed? Any ideas?” she asked the elder of the two ponies.

The older stallion walked to the Griffon lifting up his pip-buck. He brought up the map showing a farmhouse not that far from here. “Right there,” he said.

“You’ll have your children back by nightfall,” Nimbus replied, reading the name off. It made the location out to be as somewhere named Hollow Shades. “Mark me on that.”

“If you can do this without any bloodshed, I’d be pleased. We may dislike what they have done. But there is too much death in this world. So do an old stallion’s heart proud, and do this without the blood,”

“Shame really, as I have some frustrations to vent, and I really hate those who besmirch a good organization's name, but we’ll see what we can do. However, don’t expect much. I have a really itchy trigger hoof,” Nimbus replied.

“I can understand, I do hope though if you do try to kill them that you try to do it without the eyes of the little ones seeing. Nightmares and all you know it’s not wise for the young to have them.”

“That… that I can understand…” Nimbus muttered, looking towards Starglow. He nudged her forwards to the old stallion. “Can you take care of her for the time being Mr…?”

“Oh, my name! Shame on me!” the older stallion apologized. “My name is Flamethrower. It’s a long story, and I’m not really part of this stable,” He chuckled. “Been here for years though.”

“Take care of her,” Nimbus growled out warningly to Flamethrower. “If I find even a scratch on her when we get back...” he snarled, giving Flamethrower quite the death glare.

“I understand sir. No need to worry yourself. I’m no longer rushing headlong into the Hoof burning everything.” He laughed.

“So, next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’ve met this ‘Blackjack’, right?” Nimbus asked. He was met with only laughter.

“No, I left way before then. I left with a ghoul detective for awhile. He needed me for a case. So I just thought of staying away from there after that.” Flamethrower replied.

“Fairly understandable,” Henri nodded before she turned to the group and grabbed her pistols. “Now ante up!”

Hollow Shades:

Hollow Shades, it wasn’t a town. It was a ruined mess. If there were any buildings ever here, they certainly weren’t left standing now. Just foundations, and old stone pathways littered with rubble.

“Geez, we always seem to end up in the nicest of places, don’t we?” Target remarked sarcastically as they entered the town proper, Twilight having cast an invisibility spell on herself. She tended to stick out. “Ghost towns, deadly islands, old laboratories and now this place!”

“Yep, we’ve cornered the market on creepy,” Nimbus deadpanned. “Next thing you know, an old factory for one of the Ministries!”

“Hold up!” Henri hissed out as she motioned for everyone to hide behind a ruined wall. “Look up ahead. Guard on patrol.”

Sure enough, there was a member of the NCR walking near what had to be only of the only buildings left standing, pistol in hand. Quickly and quietly, Nimbus crept up behind him and knocked him out with a swift blow to the head. Smirking, he picked up the pistol. Nothing special, but it’d do. He’d worked with worse.

“So, we adding Klepto to your list of crimes?” Riptalon teased.

“Pretty sure I already got that added to me a long time ago,” Nimbus snarked back. “Now, if I was a huge collection of pot, where would I be kept? Someplace nice and warm, preferably between 24 to 30 °C. You’d need nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium added to the soil amongst other things.”

“Sounds like you know a thing or two about it,” Riptalon remarked.

“Eh, I may have grown some during my wild teenage years…” Nimbus admitted. “But enough of that. Still have any explosives on you?”

“Is facing a Deathclaw head-on suicide?” Riptalon asked rhetorically. “Course I do, never leave home without them. You planning to blow those plants sky high?”

“Yeah, burn ‘em. Wasteland’s screwed up enough without ponies dealing in Cannabis,” Nimbus growled.

“Wow, you’re actually starting to sound like a productive member of society!” Riptalon exclaimed in shock.

“Well, blame it on you and Henri. You two are starting to rub off on me. Probably why I haven’t shot you dead before now. Now, we, that being me and Henri, we move into the main farmhouse, quick and quiet and deal with the boss behind this little venture. You, however, I’ve got a different plan in mind. Get the kids, and get out before blowing that pothouse sky high, understand?”

“Got it,” Riptalon nodded. “I assume you want Target and Twilight to stay back in case things go sour?”

Nimbus nodded. “Now, normally I’d live and let be, as I understand ponies need to make a living somehow. Hell, even dealing drugs if need be, if only for medical uses. But doing it just because they want to smoke a joint, and getting kids involved? Congrats, they’ve signed their own death warrant.”

“Keep this up, and I might just actually start to like you…” Riptalon remarked. “God, I’m probably going to smell like a junkie in the morning aren’t I?”

“Probably,” Nimbus remarked.

Eventually, after a couple more minutes of arguing from the twosome, next thing the NCR soldiers knew was Henri and Nimbus busting inside the farmhouse, quickly kneecapping them with shots from their pistols.

“Relax, you’ll heal up. Maybe.” Henri commented as she reloaded. Nimbus meanwhile, grabbed the lead pony in charge and shoved him up against a wall, as he tried pushing out excuses for his legitimate business venture as he called it. Nimbus however, was having none of it.

“You know, longest it took me to break a pony was… Oh, about sixteen hours? Something tells me you won’t last that long and set any records,” Nimbus remarked, before tossing him to the ground and knocking him out with a blow to the head. “See, what’d I tell you?”

Riptalon meanwhile, was hurrying kids out of the little drug den, spotting a blue-coated foal who looked like Sugar. A guard came rushing up from behind, but Riptalon tossed him over his shoulder and onto the ground. He then pulled a pin on a grenade and tossed it onto the building where cannabis plants rose tall and proud, and ran like Hell, with the NCR soldier on his back humming: “She was a Day Tripper…” under his breath all the while.

Riptalon dived for cover and a fireball erupted going skywards as rubble fell all around him.

“Well, that didn’t go as bad as I thought it would!” Riptalon wheezed out. “Took a few years off my lifespan probably, but it was all worth it…” he smiled, as he saw Sugar’s foal along with the others being led to safety by Target and Twilight. Yeah, completely worth it, he thought before lapsing into unconsciousness.

It wasn’t long before the group, with Riptalon soon coming back to the land of the waking world returned to the Stable with the kidnapped foals in tow.

The door opened up again and Sugar ran out with tears falling down her face lifting her little foal in her magic holding him close to her, sobbing all the while.

“You know,” Nimbus admitted. “It actually feels sorta nice performing heroics, and I mean actual heroics, not ones for your country run by a maniac, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, suppose I do,” Riptalon replied. “This going to be the start of a new trend for you? Rescuing mares in distress, helping out foals?” he snarked.

”Oh shut up…” Nimbus replied, shaking his head. Why he even bothered, he didn’t know.

“See, no bloodshed,” Henri replied. “Just like we promised.”

“Good, you’ve done this old stallion proud.” Flamethrower said with a smile.

“Now, I assume you’re going to hold up your end of the bargain?” Henri asked.

“Hey, Starglow…” Twilight smiled, as she leaned down to nuzzle her ‘niece’ as it were. “Were you a good girl?”

Flamethrower nodded as he brought out the little one they gave him. “She was no trouble at all.”

Nimbus looked to the skies and swallowed as he saw some clouds crackle with lightning a ways off. “I really don’t like the look of those clouds, mind if we stay with you till the storm passes?”

“Of course, it’d be no trouble at all. We already have a few other guests with us. Nice young feller, that Jabari kid. Sure, his griffon ghoul companion takes a bit of getting used to, namely the smell, but… good girl. Bit on the feisty side,” Flamethrower admitted. “Mind you, it’s the robot who’s the one that you might not take to.”

“A pony, a ghoul, and a robot walk into a Stable,” Henri laughed as she stepped inside, with Flamethrower allowing her passage. “Sounds like the set-up to a bad joke.”

“Well, for a robot named Silver Gunner, I am sure you will get along fine...” He chuckled. Henri blinked at the name, she was familiar enough with the legends of the Wastes. She’d heard enough tales about the Silver Gunner.

“...Want to run that one by me again?” Riptalon asked, after a nervous swallow. “I swore you just said Silver Gunner.”

“I did. Why is that trouble? He’s come to this Stable for years,”

“Sorry, it’s just I’ve heard the stories. The Silver Gunner walks, is that right?” Riptalon asked. Flamethrower smirked at that.

“Now see why I said can you do it without bloodshed?” He laughed chuckling.

“Define bloodshed,” Riptalon asked nervously. “Are we talking death, or just kneecapping ponies? Because if so, it was his idea to do it!” he continued, pointing to Nimbus.

“Yeah, real supportive friends I have here…” Nimbus muttered.

Flamethrower rolled his eyes. “Silver Gunner’s a robot remember? He’s not a cold-hearted killer. He kills when logic tells him to. In fact, he stopped here on his way to the Hoof. He’s keeping a pretty low profile since well the last time he helped clear out the Enclave.”

“Goody for him…” Riptalon muttered. “I’m still a griffon with a price on my head!” he squeaked out. Nimbus, admittedly, actually found the whole thing quite amusing.

“Oh how much of a price hmm?” Flamethrower smirked. “I may be old but there are ways you need caps after all,” He winked, laughing and walking deeper into the stable.

“I’m going to die surrounded by the biggest jackasses in the Wasteland,” Riptalon muttered as he very reluctantly followed him. Admittedly, the warmth of a Stable was comforting, compared to where he’d been sleeping for the past few days, or weeks. He’d lost count. “Listen, I-I’m going to teach Sugar how to shoot properly, you guys just go on ahead okay?” he asked nervously, and Nimbus had to stifle his laughter with a hoof.

Henri shook her head, and continued walking deeper into the stable. She noted a few distrustful looks thrown her way, but whispers about what her team had pulled off echoed through the tunnels as well. She was so focused on this, she didn’t note where she was going, and hit something, or rather someone with a loud clanging sound.

“A lost one.” The robot said in an odd voice. Tinny, almost, if Henri had to put a description for it.

“Pardon me, but what do you mean by lost?” Henri asked cautiously. She didn’t have to guess who this was. She already knew.

The robot just stared at her. It’s eyes flickering something of a question but of an answer as well. “I know who you are. I have heard your story, I have seen the grave, the one known as Puppysmiles,”

“Wow, you really know how to creep a gal out,” Henri deadpanned.

“Would you expect a robot to be not creepy hmm? I had no choice in the matter of creation. But I know a thing or two about losing those close to me myself,”

“Next thing you’re going to tell me, is that you know about losing yourself as well, right?” Henri asked scathingly.

“I have been traveling most of my life young one. Some would say I am lost some would say I am searching for something. Maybe I’m searching for myself along the road. But how is your heart feeling?”

“Just… just like it needs something, I suppose,” Henri replied, with those eyes of Silver’s seemingly looking into her very soul. It made it impossible to lie to him. “Just don’t know what yet.”

“My friend I met, before she passed away from giving birth. She had the same type of feelings you did. But she never was able to pursue them and the Waste killed her.”

“Tiria, right?” Henri asked. “Don’t look so surprised, I read and listen.”

He chuckled. “Despite her hatred for the idea of her being a hero, she was one in the end ironically. She hated ponies most of all, she even hated your species.”

“She hated you too, I bet,” Henri commented, not meaning anything by it really, Just a guess.

“No, she did not. Me, Kip, and Shadow were the ones she allowed to be in her life. But the rest, she would have insulted and said to them you reaped what you sow. I for one don’t care for that way of thinking. But with her how species were they seemed linked to the world itself in a way. It just made her sicker.”

“I assume there’s a point to this somewhere?” Henri asked, grumpily having not had a good sleep in days.

Silver simply wrapped his forehooves around her pulling her into a hug. Henri simply blinked in surprise.

“Lot of this going around lately…” she muttered.

“Listen, Henri, you need to move on,” Silver replied.

“Yeah, been told that by Blackjack, and by Winter Breeze herself of all ponies. Never seems to take,” Henri muttered in response.

“Maybe they didn’t care enough to sit with you and chat and maybe help you through it. As one as old as I am, Henri I don’t just leave I stay and help in whatever ways I can.”

“So…” Henri asked. “How can you help me?”

“What is lost the most within your soul Henri?”

“I don’t know. I just keep losing ponies close to me. First my father, then Puppy. Like I’m cursed or something…”

“You get to remember them, Henri. I sadly don’t,” He opened his back bringing out a photo attached to a shotgun. In the photo, was a purple Earth Pony mare with light pink hair and a smiling flower as a cutie mark standing next to what looked to be an old schoolhouse. “I know nothing of these ponies and yet they knew me.”

“I’m sorry…” Henri replied, tracing a claw down the side of Silver’s face. It was old, dented, and riddled with bullet holes. She was honestly surprised Silver was still functional.

“Don’t be sorry for me Henri my life is as it is. I will always be running. You will not be sooner or later. So you need to find that one thing for yourself that will allow you to move on. I don’t have emotions like you do. I don’t know how to feel loss, I don’t know how to feel happiness. I am just a simple creature of logic.”

Henri smiled, thinking of two fillies. One, a blue pony with white stripes in her mane, and the other a small Zebra with her mane tied in a ponytail. “Yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about, and where I need to go next. Back home. Got two girls waiting on me back there, and I think it’s best if I stay with them for a while, get my bearings straightened out.”

Silver stared at the new photo he’d never seen before this, the one of the Earth pony. His eyes flickered quickly. A voice box opened up in his back and a voice calm and kind came out.

“Children, today we are going to learn about cutie marks!” it said excitedly.

“You don’t think…?” Henri asked.

“My creator… I need to find Scootaloo, now more than ever,”

Henri smiled, as thunder cracked overhead. “I wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it. World out there, it’s getting darker and more dangerous by the minute,”

“Ones like you, Henri, they’ll bring back the light. I’m sadly part of that darkness that hurts the world. When I’m not needed anymore I shall become history and move along in time,”

“Oh, don’t be that way. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, from you in fact, that there’s light at the end for even ones like you. Cheesy, I know, but it works.” Henri replied with a small smile.

“Of course but before I leave. I got one more question for you. Are you willing to answer?”

“Yes,” Henri replied.

“What is the core value of friendship?”

For a long while, Henri thought before she came up with an answer. “Love.”

“That is the most valued part of it. There are more but love is the biggest. Those that seek that remarkable illusion is needed in life. Don’t let that go away from you, hold it dear. Never allow another to tell you otherwise my friend. Remember, hate is always foolish, and love is always wise. Now get some rest, Henrietta Firebright. You’ll need it for the long road ahead.”

Author's Note

Okay, so sorry for the long wait, had gotten myself stuck in a massive writer's block till now. Now, huge thanks to Megaskullmon for writing his characters Flamethrower, the Silver Gunner, and presumably Sugar as well. We're so not sorry for the Doctor Who reference in Silver's ending lines. Not sorry at all. What can I say, we're nerds!

Also, yes, I did have to look up on how pot was grown for this chapter. Not planning on growing any though, rather not be arrested.

Part 24: "Sympathy for the Devil, Mate. Sympathy."

Nimbus found himself in a rather grumpy mood later that next morning. Might have been the hangover, considering his head was pounding in pain. Apparently, from what he vaguely remembered of last night, there was a lot, and I mean a lot of drinking to celebrate the Stable’s foals and fillies being returned.

“Never thought I’d partied quite so hard in my life,” Nimbus thought as he tried to fall back to sleep and let the hangover pass in it’s own time. World could do with one less pegasus in it for a while longer, survived this long without them didn’t it?” “Then again, never had much to party about.”

Nearby, in a closet hung his armor and undersuit, with his stolen pistol resting nearby on the bedside table. Call it paranoia, he supposed, but he never really went to sleep without having a gun to wake up to in case someone tried to attack him during the night. Leftover habit from Coltumbia’s civil war.

Nimbus went for his PipBuck, and flipped it on, to listen to the daily blues. He smiled when he heard the familiar voice of DJ-Pon-3 coming from the speakers.

“GOOOOOODDD MORNING Equestrian Wasteland, I’m sorry, did that wake you up? Well, you should be up and ‘atom’ by now anyways. Sorry for the poor pun, I just couldn’t resist. ‘Bout the only good thing I can do sometimes, it seems, making Y'all laugh your asses off.

“So, it makes me jealous then, that there’s ponies out there doing good in the wastes, like Scootaloo for example. I know I’ve been going on and on about this mare for ages, but show her a little love eh? Sure, she created the Stables and a few of them went all pear-shaped, but she’s making up for it. Doing a hell of a lot more good fieldwork wise than I am, that’s for sure. All I do, deliver the news and keep you up to date, and informed on what’s what.

“Speaking of do-gooders, I’ve got news for you. Anyone know of a small settlement called Hollow Shades? If not, I’m not really all the surprised. I say settlement with the greatest generosity I can muster, as really, it’s a ruined mess of buildings hundreds of years old -Pre-war in fact- just waiting to be taken over by Raiders, the little bastards. But you don’t really care about the history of places nobody could really give a damn about do you?

“No, what you care about, is ponies doing a hell of a lot more than most of you are probably doing, sitting on your asses just waiting for whatever comes next. Okay, so a little birdie told me, and I admit, this is rather unfortunate that a rogue group -And I must stress rogue- of NCR soldiers took over a building in Hollow Shades, and made it into their own private pot house. Even kidnapped some local foals and fillies from a nearby stable to help ‘em out! Now, if that doesn’t get your blood boiling, I thankfully, have some good news to calm y’all down.

“Remember when I mentioned something on Mount Pleasant Island blowing sky-high? Well, apparently I’ve been in touch with the head of the NCR, the real one, and they sent out a crew to take out whatever Stormy Skies’s little group was doing there. And get this! Another little birdie, told me that Henri’s group, as in Henrietta Firebright, hooked up with a former Enclave soldier who decided he’d had enough of it all and decided to lend a helping hoof. Never thought I’d see the day when a member of Stormy Skies’s little band of nutballs lends a helping hoof to anyone. But back to the pothouse story, apparently he (With Stormy himself calling our new ally the ‘Morningstar’ fittingly enough) and Henri’s group just arrived on-shore recently back on the mainland, and dealt with this problem, and returned the kids to their parents. So dude, whoever you are, I salute you. This is for you, man. Sing it Sweetie!”

“Well I was born an original sinner,
I was borne from original sin.
And if I had a bit
For all the things I've done
There'd be a mountain of money
Piled up to my chin… (Hey!)

“My mama told me good
My mama told me strong.
She said “be true to yourself
And you can't go wrong.”
“But there's just one thing
That you must understand.”
“You can fool with your brother -
But don't mess with a missionary man.”

“Okay, so it seems I’m famous now,” Nimbus grumbled. “Not really sure how I feel about that. I honestly preferred it when everyone wanted to shoot me.”

He heard a low groan come from his left side, and on pure instinct, Nimbus went for his pistol, and turned it to the source of the sound. From under the covers, to his right, was another pony, spooning him with hooves around his barrel. He recognized the pony alright, it was Sugar. Guess she really wanted to thank him for saving her son, he chuckled.

Putting the gun aside, he nibbled at her neck slightly making the pony emit a slight moan. “Time to wake up, ‘honey’.

“...Just five more minutes, please dear,” Sugar mumbled in her partially awake state. Nimbus smiled and nuzzled her, still wondering what the hell kind of party did he get involved in last night. He groaned to himself as the memories came flooding back.

Nimbus drowned another glass of whiskey, before tossing the empty bottle behind him. Dance music pounded behind him, with the sound of Velvet Remedy’s admittedly augmented voice coming through speakers.

“...I’ve been told to turn the other cheek and rise above it
But the weather is perfect, so all expect worship,
but I think they can shove it

“I bite my tongue, choke, swallow and smile when I’m around her
But it’s tough to be manic, ‘bout the aerodynamic when there’s
All these wiseguy pegasi flyin' by screamin': “Suck it grounders!”

“I give up! Whatever, I tried and I'll never crack your clique cuz I don't go Mach V
countin’ down the days, 'til you crash and witness how gravity makes the rest of us it’s dirty little mistress.

“If there was a race in life you'd win.
I'll be here below the stratosphere while you stay in it
Go get your camera, it's the last time I'll be by
Flexing your wings, it’s all you do, it's depressing

“(Oh and watch out for lightning and turbulence, when you splat it's really nasty.)

“To hell with your flapping, all your wings need a wrapping
but we’ll all die happy
never bein' fly like you
never bein’ fly like you…”

“Why would you drink that swill?” The old flammer from the Hoof asked.

“A better question is, why the Hell not?” Nimbus replied curtly.

“Well the bartender, Sugar can make some pretty nice drinks. Why not have her make something for you?” Flamethrower chuckled, drinking from a strange fluid causing his mouth to steam.

“I… I think I’ll pass on it.” Nimbus commented, noting the effect.

“You think she made this?” He lifted the drink laughing. “No no, this is my own drink. A little bit of lighter fluid booze and soda with a match wonderful.”

“...Remind me to never ask you for drinks sometime, lest I kill myself with some of that poison,” Nimbus muttered, and looked behind him only to sigh. At a nearby pool table, Riptalon was managing to hustle the Stable-Dwellers out of their caps. He was doing quite well. Twilight had left long ago, declaring this whole thing a grand show of idiocy. Privately, -although he’d never let her have the satisfaction of being right- he agreed with her. “Mind you, you can see why I’ve been driven to drink, given the morons I have to put up with.”

Flamethrower laughed softly. “Try dealing with an old detective ghoul who speaks to himself in the third person. Then do an entire mystery with him and protect his home while he speaks to himself and saying everything around me is in black and white.” He sighed shaking his head.

“Silver Spade Chronicles fan?” Nimbus deadpanned. “I know a mare, back where I come from, who’s quite the fan. Mare, I did say that. Yes, feel free to gasp in shock.” he stated flatly.

“He never read them or at least he never he told me he did so he just did it for the hell of it for all can I guess,” He just stared at Nimbus. “Boy, have you ever been laid or not because you act like a hard ass.”

Nimbus burst out laughing, after of course downing another drink. “May have been laid a few times in the past,” he replied. “My brother, not so much. Too strung up on religion to think of sex before marriage.”

“Ah, I used to be married myself. I met her in this stable we have had a few foals together. Eh age and all that tends to beat you,”

“Tell me about it. I’m… what, forty-something and already I get back pains!” Nimbus snorted into his beer.

“Heh, old age yes. Why do you think I am happy I left the Hoof before that mare showed up? How would I be able to handle something like that? Crazy insane… blew up someone.”

“No shit,” Nimbus replied. “Was it a dragon named Mr. Topaz, or is it someone else I’m thinking of who pulled that off?”

“No, you’re thinking of Littlepip blowing up a dragon. But anyway, ah, so you know about ‘Security’ as well. Blackjack, the loon of a mare.” He face-hoofed. “I was even recalled because of her. I said no thank you!”

“Every time I hear a story about that mare, I just wonder if fate is playing some large joke with me. Seriously, a mare like that, cannot by any means exist!” Nimbus shouted.

“Well that’s what I said about another creature till I saw her grave,” Flamethrower replied. Nimbus meanwhile, shot a speaker with his pistol muttering how that’d shut things up. Ponies groaned, but he really didn’t seem to care.

“Tiria?” Nimbus asked, raising an eyebrow. “I hear things.”

“Yes, you’ll hear more stories from Silver. He acts like he has no emotions but when he speaks of her,” Flamethrower shook his head sadly. “He just grows very distant like he’s reliving her death.”

“Yeah… I know how that feels…” Nimbus muttered as he thought of his brother going up in explosion and fire in the sky, having that look in his eyes.

“Well I find this world peaceful. It may get dull as I can’t burn anything anymore. But I feel that I was given a good fate in life.”

“True enough,” Nimbus replied, clinking his glass against the old war vet’s own.

“To the dead?” Flamethrower asked.

“To the dead.” Nimbus replied.

Now, Nimbus mused to himself, the question was, how the hell did he end up in bed with Sugar? He groaned once more, a very familiar feeling at this point, as more memories came flying back.

Sugar, a yellow unicorn mare set down a strange fluid with an amber tint to it in front of Nimbus. He didn’t dare touch it.

“Why do I have the feeling I don’t want to drink this?” he asked, very nervously. “Seriously, for all I know this could be a date-rape drug!”

She laughed her head off at him. “Oh really? I am a mare from the mountains in a land called Wymarnic. So this is a drink for a real stallion are you a real stallion or a fool?” She gave a sweet smile.

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Nimbus asked, reaching for the glass eyebrow raised. “Because I do love a challenge. What’s in it?” he asked. He was probably tempting fate in hindsight.

“It’s an old Buffalo Hoof secret.” She smirked.

“I won’t tell,” Nimbus smirked back. “Good secret keeper, me.”

“Hmm it’s hard to find these out of that area. But it’s a flower that’s known as red crab. It only shows up after rain and then a few pints of booze here and there, with vodka added in. Then grounded up is a bit of a meat.”

Nimbus looked nervous, but shrugged muttering “I’ll try anything once…” and drank. “Good shit.” he eventually said.

“Good, most have acid trips and lose their minds.” Sugar replied, in one of those tones that made it impossible to tell if she was just joking.

Nimbus, very discreetly, moved the glass away from him muttering: “They’re all trying to poison me…”

She shrugged taking the drink drinking it all in one gulp. “Your loss.”

“If I may, how did your husband… How did he die I mean?” Nimbus asked, trying to be rather delicate about the subject.

“Well it’s a long story. Well, I met my husband when he first ended up in that land. He came with the others to find secrets of ponies known as the Blue Hats. I was charged in well... watching him really. No sense beating around the bush. Since outsiders aren't that welcomed, you must understand. He started joking around calling me beautiful…” Sugar explained. “But he asked me to marry him right there.” she sighed wistfully.

“You punched him, didn’t you?” Nimbus asked.

“Well, of course, I was part of a gang called the Black Aces,” she smirked. “ You think I would just let him sit there and call me a beauty and all that?”

“Well, to be perfectly fair, you are a beautiful mare,” Nimbus remarked.

“Don’t worry we aren’t in the mountains anymore,” she reassured. “But thank you all the same. Now we left because after everything said and done. With all the killings of trying to find these secrets. I was demanded by a pony named Smoke Pipe. He asked me to run with him, get him out of there before the ponies of that land along with the Zebras try to kill him for what they caused,” She sighed a bit again. “But I did what the old ghoul asked and ended up here after our first foal. Then he died of heart failure. It was something that he was given while we were there at the mountains land.”

“I’m… sorry for asking. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you I’ll gladly do it.” Nimbus apologized, looking rather ashamed of himself.

“Well thank you’re a good stallion. You’re impressive for how kind you are. I'm used to seeing these stallions from the outside thinking they’re Celestia’s gift to mares. Of course, a few mares I have met are even worse than that,” Sugar replied.

“Geez, I’d hate to see that.” Nimbus joked. Out of the blue, Sugar kissed Nimbus full on the lips, and pulled away panting and sweating. “Well, haven’t had that in a long time…” Nimbus muttered.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Sugar laughed, blushing as she did so. “I don’t know what came over me!”

Sugar blinks feeling a hoof on her shoulder as the old buck Flamethrower whispers to her. Nimbus could hear from Flamethrower a few words. ‘Be happy again.’

“How long has it been?” Nimbus asked.

“Uh… I’m thirty years old so..” She thinks a moment. “Ten years.”

“Far too long, if you ask me,” Nimbus commented, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well I have been waiting for a stallion to well take up what my husband, Celestia rest his soul, used to be to me,” Sugar sighed sadly. “I don’t expect it back. I just... Well, my foal is all I have left of him. I don’t regret leaving that land. I miss those rare nights when it wasn’t raining and how the land was poisoned before the war ended. Oh just surviving was wonderful. These days everything is given to me. Please, make me feel like a mare again.”

Nimbus’ jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of the request. “I… I…” he stammered out, searching for words, but then he saw the look in Sugar’s eyes and decided: “To hell with it!” and gave in.

Flamethrower slowly walked away and then gave Nimbus a whisper. “You hurt you her boy, I burn you.” He patted Nimbus head walking away. Next thing Nimbus knew, he was in Sugar’s quarters, shoved up against a wall and being kissed quite passionately as Sugar removed his armor piece by piece, before unzipping his undersuit and tossing that aside. All the while, she peppered his face with kisses.

Next thing Nimbus knew, was him falling into the bed sheets, before flipping Sugar over so he was on top of her. “You control the bar talk, here? Not so much…” Nimbus remarked, with Sugar smiling seductively at him.

Nimbus slowly watched his new ‘friend’ of sorts wake. He groaned, and sighed. Least he wasn’t watching her sleep, that’d be creepy. Like bad romance novel creepy. And Celestia knew he’d seen some of his fellow pegasi back in Coltumbia write some pretty bad ones.

“Morning,” Nimbus said softly, as he gave Sugar a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning…” Sugar smiled. “Now, you know that was just a one-time thing right?”

“Knew that perfectly well,” Nimbus replied. “Honestly, if I could, I probably would settle down with someone, but honestly, I don’t really have the time.”

“Bull,” Sugar told him. “I’ve seen where your heart lies. Seen you looking at that griffon friend of yours. What’s stopping you? Fear of him crushing you in bed?” she joked.

Nimbus, his expression said it all. Sugar couldn’t really help herself, and burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re too cute. Really, you are. Riptalon, lucky griffon.”

“...Slight problem with that, really,” Nimbus replied after he’d regained the power of speech. “Pretty sure he’s hung up over a friend of mine. A dead friend.” he quickly clarified.

“Then tell him to pull his head out of his ass, simple as that.” Sugar replied, before throwing him, his pistol, and clothing out of the room, and shutting the door. Nimbus groaned as he picked himself up off the ground and dressed himself. Yep, headache wasn’t getting any better.

“So,” Flamethrower leaned on the wall cleaning an old laser rifle. “How did it go?” he asked with a grin.

“From what little I remember without my head hurting, hot, dirty, nasty… I could probably go on, but you get the picture.” Nimbus deadpanned. One must start to wonder by now, was that his default tone?

“Ah, I see she kicked you out then. I’m sorry about that. I felt that she needed at least a good rutting with a stallion.”

“Sympathy for the devil, mate. Sympathy,” Nimbus replied. “All it was to us.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’m not sure on that no protection right?”

Nimbus didn’t say a word.

“Eh, none of my need to know. I may have known her when she was part of the gangs. But eh she saved my ass many times.”

“Remind me to thank you for this,” Nimbus replied flatly. “Preferably by punching you in the face.”

He laughed. “Good luck with that. Silver is still here he would think that you’re trying to kill me for some reason. He thinks any violence in a place like this should mean death.”

“Great, so a mad robot!” Nimbus sighed, rubbing his temples with a wing. “Agh, anyways… Where’s the rest of my little group? Well, Henri’s little group to be more accurate.”

“Your friends are around. It’s hard to keep track of every pony in a stable.”

Nimbus’s only response was to flip him off with a wing, and walk off looking for his friends. Eventually, he did find them, with Riptalon talking to Target about weaponry and comparing notes on kills. Twilight was fiddling with Starglow’s mane for whatever reason, must have been the mother in her. And Henri? Nowhere to be found.

“Anyone seen the boss?” Target asked, as she put End of the Line back in it’s resting place on her back.

“Left earlier this morning, from what I heard,” Twilight replied, and everyone looked at her. “She said something about needing to get back to somewhere called Junction Town, journey she had to take alone, and only alone.”

“...Please tell me you’re kidding,” Riptalon said flatly. “She’s gotta have gone suicidal on us, probably hoping to run into a Deathclaw or something!”

“No, she sounded very serious about this,” Twilight replied. “Quite firm, left no room for argument. So, didn’t stop her,”

“Yeah, that’s Henri alright,” Riptalon sighed, using one of his wings to rub his temples. “You and her, make quite the perfect couple, really if you were asking me. Both stubborn as Hell.”

“Oh, so you’re playing matchmaker now are you? First teaching Starglow how to shoot something or at least promising to, and now this!” a voice said to Riptalon, and he looked to his left. A midnight black pony, with burning orange eyes and an entire body that looked half-melted.

“Just… just trying to do some good in the world, that’s all. And for the record, I did teach Starglow how to shoot something, went down to the bowels of this place and helped clear out a Radroach infestation in the process, quite the good shot with the proper teacher turns out,” he whispered in reply, wondering why nobody else could see this pony. Twilight did quirk an eyebrow at his whisperings though, for whatever it was worth.

“You know why nobody else can,” Midnight smirked. “Speaking of things nobody else has seen in ages, whatever happened to that magazine of mine, that playpony one with the former bad girl, who could give Nimbus Breaker a run for his money. Cause goddamn, if he doesn’t look sexy in that Fizzlepop-inspired armor!”

“You do realize she’s been dead for over 200 years, and Twilight’s ex at that?”

“Buck can dream right? Well, okay, a dead buck but you get my point right?” Midnight’s ghost asked. “Agh, speaking of Nimbus, or Iron, or whatever he chooses to call himself, tell me, why you letting him keep that Lyra doll that’s apparently rightfully mine? He considers me a traitor, a sell-out to the Enclave! He’s never going to give me a proper burial, so to speak.”

Riptalon forced the image away with a small growl. Sooner they got out of this place, the better, starting to make him see things. “Never mind the fact that I’ve been seeing this idiot ever since we returned to the mainland…” Riptalon thought to himself.

“You okay mate?” Nimbus asked, draping a wing around him. Friendship, he could settle for that. “You’ve been talking to yourself ever since we got back to Equestria proper.”

“Fine, just fine,” Riptalon quickly lied. Nimbus quirked an eyebrow, but thought nothing better of it. “Say, just a question, but are you going to give Midnight a proper burial of sorts? Or at least a eulogy?” he asked.

“Honestly, until I’m sure he didn’t sell us out, no. No, I’m not,” Nimbus said, and quickly changed the subject. “So, how did Starglow’s target practice go?”

And so Riptalon explained.

“Okay kid,” Riptalon explained, looking down at the pink filly beneath him, Starglow now having been given a Pipbuck fitted to her size. In her hooves, was the energy pistol they’d found in that lab -Somnambula something or other- back on Mount Pleasant Island. “All you got to do, activate the S.A.T.S. mode and blow those roaches to little, itty bitty pieces. Sound easy? ...Just uh, don’t hit the water talisman. Pretty sure that’s a bad thing.” he added quickly, and nervously. He looked at the BB Gun in his hooves, wondering if he should have given her that instead.

To his surprise, Starglow picked up on his instructions fairly quickly, and managed to shoot each Radroach in front of her in quick, rapid succession. Like shooting fish in a barrel really, never had much of a chance.

As lights flashed, the massive stable door began to open, and the group was greeted with the very welcome sight of sunlight. After spending at least a week in rainy, mist-covered environments, Celestia’s sun returning to greet them was a very welcome sight indeed.

“Sun is shinin' in the sky, yhere ain't a cloud in sight
And don't you know, It's a beautiful new day, hey hey…” Target hummed to herself, before her nose wrinkled up as the stench hit her. Smelled like something that had left in the sun to rot for a few days, if she had to make a comparison. She really knew of only one thing that could give off that sort of putrid stench.

“So, heard you’re down a griff!” a cheery voice greeted as a winged ghoul with beautiful turquoise eyes and a happy smile stepped out of the shadows, followed by a golden-furred pony, with black stripes covering his coat and a sword on his back. Target raised an eyebrow at that, that was a new one for sure.

“So, will I make do?” the griffon asked, holding out a set of knives that seemed to be made from Hellhound claws if Target’s guess was of any accuracy.

“G-Gabby?” Twilight whispered in shock, fighting back tears. It seemed this ‘Gabby’ wasn’t far behind, as she ran towards Twilight, dropping her knives as she did so, and embracing the Alicorn in a hug.

“How… How are you still alive?” Gabby asked. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

“I was actually, and then I wasn’t. It’s a very long story,” Twilight laughed through her tears. “Oh Gabby, it’s so nice to see a familiar face, even a ghoulified one,”

“S-Same.” Gabby replied, nuzzling the former Princess of Friendship.

“Okay, can I have a cast list here? Am I missing something?” the zorse -Because really, what else could he be, Target mused- exclaimed in confusion.

“Er, what’s your name?” Target asked.

“Jabari. Jabari Swift. Yes, I know my name means swift swift, so sue me,” he deadpanned. “Now… Will somepony explain to me what the Hell is going on here!?!”

“Well, Jabari, pleased to meet you. This is Gabrielle Gruff, or Gabby the Griffon as everyone liked to call her when she was alive,”

“You sound as if you knew her,” Jabari remarked.

“I did, name’s Twilight Sparkle. Yes, that one,” Twilight replied, in a deadpan tone, before she cheered up considerably. “Okay, now I apologize in advance if you sound like something I’d put in a science experiment, but you’re an interesting one. A zorse, never thought I’d see the like in my lifetime,” she said in excitement, though if you listened closely, you could detect a hint of melancholiness in her tone.

“Yep, one in a million, for what it’s worth,” Jabari replied before muttering: “For good or for ill.”

“So, what are you two doing here,” Riptalon commented. “Have to ask really,”

“Your boss, the griffon in the NCR, sent us towards Mount Pleasant Island to give you some back-up, that’s all,” Jabari explained. “Seems we missed all the fun, if the radio chatter’s any indication,”

“Fun being the operative word there,” Riptalon grumbled. “Still washing the blood out of my fur, keep on finding it in places I didn’t even know I had!”

“Well, time to get moving,” Nimbus said, adjusting his saddlebags. Everyone noticed the stench of sex wafting off him but was kind enough not to bring it up. “I’m ever-so-curious as to see this Junction Town everybody’s always yammering on about.”

With that, the newly strengthened party left the Stable, and set off into the Wastes…

In hindsight, maybe leaving the Stable was a terrible idea, Nimbus mused. The rain and mist had been replaced with a scorching sun that beat down upon everyone, and was quite honestly making his hangover all the more unbearable.

“Oh for the love for Celestia’s nether regions…” Nimbus grumbled to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Whose fucking idea was this, to replace rain and pea soup fog with this?” he yelled to no one in particular.

“Swear to Gawd, what was Littlepip thinking?” Riptalon grumbled. “She’s in control of the weather now, so why make it burning hot? Sure, sun is shining, and it’s a brand new day without a cloud in sight but that doesn’t make it a fucking good thing!” he roared.

“This what it’s always like with you guys?” Jabari asked Twilight.

“Far as I can tell… Yes,” she replied flatly, in rather a bad mood herself thanks to the weather, Nimbus and Riptalon’s bitching and her headache thanks to the loud music from last night’s party. “By Luna’s withers, this is probably, by bar none, worst day in the Equestrian Wastes I’ve suffered so far yet, and I’ve got a lot of days to compare it to.”

Little did she know, it was about to get far worse as things tended to often do. Because really, name me one day when a group of Wastelanders had it easy in any form.

“Does anyone know if the Pipbuck can pick up weather patterns?” Nimbus asked. “Seriously, I’ve love to know if rain’s on the way. I don’t care if it soaks us to the bone, anything’s better than… this! Hell, even Raiders shouting at the top of their lungs about how they’re going to kill all of us and steal whatever we have would be better than this! Because… because this is dogshit weather right here!”

Surprisingly, neither Riptalon nor Nimbus got zapped by Starglow for their language. And that was because Starglow was fast asleep on Twilight’s back, choosing to snooze the day away. Not that anyone could blame her, between the heat of the afternoon and the week she’d probably had dodging both literal and metaphorical bullets she deserved some rest.

“Ain’t no harm in checking really,” Target shrugged, fanning herself with her Stetson. “Hell, I’ll do it for you.”

With that, she turned on her Pipbuck and was greeted with the news.

“Afternoon, Wastelanders. I’m really sorry ‘bout the weather today if you’re in the old Fillydelphia Fun Farm regions. Still, could be worse, you could be under Red-Eye’s old iron hoof. Still, I’ll see if I can get my fellow DJ Homage on the horn, and ask her to tell her marefriend to turn down the hear and send us some rain eh?

“But actually, got some important news for all you Fortunate Son wannabes out there. No, I’m not going to make a Senator’s son joke, too easy. Listen, if you’re a Wasteland do-gooder, like our new and dear friend the Morningstar, avoid the Fillydelphia Fun Farm area at ALL costs! Yes, this means you, with all of your Power Armor and heavy weaponry, don’t go sticking your necks out for the ponies trapped there unless your name is Blackjack or you’re some other type of One-Mare army, because right now, that area’s in a mess of shit piled as high as the Rambling Rock Ridges.”

“...Wait, aren’t we in that area?” Riptalon asked, having one of those “Oh crap” looks on his face.

“Yeeeeah, I think we are,” Jabari swallowed nervously, and continued listening in as the whole party came to a halt to see what’s what and why DJ-Pon-3 was exactly so nervous.

“For those of you not in the know, I’ll continue what’s been going on, reiterate a little. Basically, ‘bout a month or so back, this Ministry factory started churning out robot after robot. Originally, these bots were MoM, just designed to keep everypony’s spirits up, never meant for war. Guess when we knew the war against the Zebras was turning against us, factory stopped production and the metal used for it was rerouted for more important things, like guns. Not sure how it became active again, maybe some Raider flicked a switch just for the shits and giggles, who’s to say? Hope it got him or her killed, as right now some NCR troopers are bogged down in the trenches outside the Factory going through ammo and whatever rocks they can find to throw and trying to keep the whole mess from spilling out into Equestria proper. I salute them, but there’s no other way of saying it. Sooner or later, the ammo’s going to run out, and we’re all in big trouble unless somebody shuts that factory down for good. So please, Calamity Deadshot or whoever else from Littlepip or Blackjack’s group is listening, get your asses over there and lend a hoof m’kay? Please, for all our sakes. This is DJ-Pon-3 signing off, hopefully not for the last time…”

“That settles it,” Riptalon snarled, reaching for Lawgiver. “Long as we’re here, might as well do some good. Jabari, you missed out on your first chance at Wasteland heroics didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind…” the Zorse answered, understandably nervous.

“Tough luck, I don’t think anypony else is even near these guy’s locations, so we’re it,” Riptalon growled, loading up his rifle. Midnight appeared beside him, shaking his head in disapproval.

“So, now you’re getting your new kid killed as well, or do you have a death wish and want to join me six feet under? Which is it?” the ghost asked.

“Shut up,” Riptalon told him, his voice coming out as a hiss. Behind him, Nimbus and Twilight shared a concerned look, seeing Riptalon talking to thin air this often, it was rather concerning to say the least. “I’m just doing what nobody else can do, and saving a few ponies lives.”

“Hold up,” Target spoke up. “I’m all for saving anyone and everyone I can, but what about Starglow. No way in Hell am I having a filly’s death on my conscience.”

“She’s no safer there, than anyone else,” Riptalon growled back at her, towering over the Earth Pony mare. “Besides, if she dies, might as well be a mercy, way I see it. Be with her moms again.”

With that, he said nothing more on the matter.

Fillydelphia: No Man’s Land

Gunfire was the first thing that reached Riptalon’s ears, as he entered what could possibly only be described as ‘Hell on Equestria.’ He was in a trench, diving for cover as bullets flew over his head, just barely missing him by inches. A mile or so ahead, was a massive factory churning out smoke billowing high into the sky, guarded by Pinkie Pie robots, mounted at turrets firing everything that had at the last of the brave NCR soldiers still holding the line.

Nimbus, as he went into S.A.T.S. mode pulled out his pistol, and fired off three shots in quick succession, hitting a turret and blowing it sky-high in a billowing tower of fire before he dived for cover.

“Whew, never seen a buck crazy as you before!” a tan unicorn with a cog for a Cutie Mark, holding a laser rifle said, as he took a shot at one of the gunners. A red beam of pure magical energy arced and scored a headshot. “Name’s Stripped Gear, been here for about a month, as you might imagine, and been losing men by the dozens thanks to those… things. Honestly, when I signed on for security duty, I was expecting to deal with the Enclave. ‘Stead, got something far worse. Machine gun firing nutcases screaming out “Fun!” over and over as they cut us down.”

“So, I assume you’re the commander of this little regiment?” Twilight asked Stripped Gear, as she handed off Starglow to a unicorn medic, with crimson red fur, and an orange mane. She caught the name, Flashfire. He nodded in understanding, although he did give Twilight an odd look like she seemed familiar to him somehow. But all the same, he went into the underground tunnels below them.

“Hardly, second in command. Before that, I was only a simple lieutenant,” Stripped replied. “That is, before our real second in command bought it. Only one pony aside from my commander really cares about us out here, and that’d be Monsieur Death.”

“Well, we’ll see about changing that,” Twilight replied.

“Suit yourself, but I don’t expect you to last long over here,” Stripped said in a mournful tone. “This place takes up soldiers and chews them up, before spitting them out in a bloody heap. Why do you think nobody’s come to help us? Because nobody gives a damn about us. We’re just soldiers on the front line of a suicidal battle. Our names won’t be remembered.”

Flashfire returned, and with a Zebra Rifle in hand. Shots rattled from the barrel, and in the distance, Nimbus could vaguely make out Pinkie-Bots catching ablaze.

“Just tell me,” Twilight asked. “Who’s your commander here? Where can I find him?”

“Trust me, mademoiselle,” Flashfire replied. “You’ll find him quite quick. Just look for the stallion in the armor, with the very big gun,” he explained, before shouting in Prench: “D'accord, petits diables, vous voulez la mort? Venez en chercher!” as he fired off several more shots.

“...Violent for a medic, isn’t he?” Jabari observed, master of the understatement. Clearly. “I thought that they were the peaceful sort,”

“You get all kinds…” Riptalon muttered, before he heard the distinct thunder of a minigun, and looked straight ahead to see a member of Applejack’s Rangers in full Power Armor, cutting down anything in his way. He clearly intended to fight to the last, protect what little remained of his troop. Riptalon was vaguely reminded of that old phrase about a captain and his ship.

Suddenly, a mortar sent him flying into the dirt, and a helmet rolled off to reveal a pure white furred unicorn, with a long golden mane, blood leaking from his forehead. The minigun clattered to the ground.

“Commandant Soulshine!” Flashfire shouted, as he rushed over and checked the unicorn’s injuries. Jabari didn’t know why at the time, but his heart beat just a little faster upon seeing the injured unicorn. He felt blood rush to his face, and rushed over.

“Alright,” Jabari said as he helped Flashfire strip Soulshine of his armor, parts flying off in an orange hue of magic. “Feel a few busted ribs, blast probably caused that when it sent him flying.”

“You a medic, sir?” Flashfire asked.

“Of sorts,” Jabari lied, having had to patch himself up a few times after battles to the death in the arena back at a certain camp. So it was fair to say he did know a thing or two about field medicine.

“Good, then help me patch him up, and get him underground, back into the tunnels,” Flashfire ordered. Jabari nodded, and helped lift the rather large unicorn up, and carry him down into the underground tunnels below the trenches. Jabari let out a low whistle as he found himself in a fully functioning command center. Well, about as fully functioning as one could be with only three ponies, possibly now two to operate it.

“You guys made all this yourself in a month?” Jabari asked, and Flashfire chuckled as he shook his head and set Soulshine down, the unicorn groaning out in pain.

“Hardly,” Flashfire replied, as he set about bandaging Soulshine’s wounds. “We were lucky enough to stumble upon this. As near as I can figure, this is was constructed during the war with the Zebras. That’s where I managed to find this little toy here,” he continued, holding up his rifle. “Comes quite in handy, as you’d imagine. Damn stripers sure knew how to make a good gun, give ‘em that much!” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll bet…” Jabari muttered, and Flashfire had the decency to look embarrassed as he took in Jabari’s appearance. A gunshot went off somewhere above, a sound Jabari and Flashfire both knew to be a sniper rifle. End of the Line, the zorse figured. Had to be.

“Sorry kid, didn’t mean nothing by it,” Flashfire apologized.

“I’ve heard worse, trust me. Freak of nature who never should have been born, for one,” Jabari laughed bitterly, and Flashfire patted him on the shoulder.

“Well, trust me, as long as you can contribute to this hellhole, and you’re willing to die like a soldier then you won’t be getting any of that merde from me! Dunno why, but guess I’ll be giving some sympathy for the devil,” Flashfire explained. Somehow, Jabari didn’t feel all that reassured, even as he watched Flashfire induce unconsciousness to Soulshine via a syringe.

“Sorry about that, Commandant, but you need your rest. We’ll hold the line… somehow,” Flashfire sighed sadly, with the resignation of a pony being led to the gallows.

“Times like these,” Nimbus said, as he entered the room. “What I wouldn’t give for Henri to be here. Guess I’ll have to make do and mend without her…” he trailed off, before grabbing a Zebra Rifle off a gun rack, and putting a cartridge of ammunition in it. Flashfire’s face became one of recognition.

“Wait, Henri, as in Henrietta Firebright?” he asked in shock, sea-green eyes widened. “Then that means you’re…”

“The Morningstar DJ-Pon-3 mentioned?” Nimbus asked, as he grabbed ammo for his pistol as well. “Yep, the one and only. Want a picture? It’ll last longer than some autograph,” he snarked.

Flashfire was once again, left speechless for a moment. “...Wow, a zorse and a former Enclave soldier coming to help the day and pull our asses out of the fire. Wow, times are a-changin’...”

“Trust me, mate, you haven’t even met the strangest members of our party. I’m just the guy with the gun, and apparently Celestia on my side if the song’s to be believed,” he joked before his tone became more serious. “Now you, you keep an eye on Starglow, little pink filly my giant unicorn friend gave you. If she gets killed, those murderbots, least of your worries believe you me,” he said firmly, his own eyes meeting Flashfire’s. The medic shuddered and nodded in understanding. Jabari followed Nimbus back up into the battlefield, and picked up a rifle from a fallen soldier, and joined in the fray.

“Okay, anyone got any ideas on how we breach that factory?” Twilight asked, and Stripped Gear looked at her as if she’d finally taken leave of her senses.

“This is no man's land, Twilight! It means no man can cross it, alright? This battalion, or us should we say, has been here for nearly a month and we’ve barely gained an inch. All right?” Stripped shouted over the din of the gunfire. “Because on the other side there are a bunch of crazy Murder-Bots pointing machine guns at every square inch of this place. This is not something you can cross. It's not possible.” he said, in a tone of complete and utter defeat, and Twilight gave him a deathly cold look that made even Nimbus flinch.

“I’ll ask you not to call robotic versions of my marefriend ‘Murder-Bots’, are we clear on that?” she asked, seemingly gazing into Stripped Gear’s soul.

“M-Marefriend?” Stripped Gear stuttered out. “Who the Hell are you?”

“The mare who’s going to save your lives today,” Twilight stated firmly, as she threw off her tarp and expanded her wings, allowing her Cutie Mark to be in full view as it gleamed in the sun. “May not be able to save everyone, but I’ll at least be able to save you lot, for better or for worse.”

With that, she took off like a rocket, a purple shield in front of her sending every bullet sent towards her flying every which way, before finally a loud boom was heard and a wave of indigo-colored light was sent in every direction, sending Pinkie-Bots flying off to Celestia only knew where.

Sure, some still remained, but Twilight took their fire as her shield held firm and fired off spells of her own.

Hope soon came back to the hearts of Stripped Gear and what little remained of his troop.

“She’s taking all the fire, let’s go!” he barked to his men. “Over the top, go, go!”

And so they scrambled, Riptalon taking out two knives and sticking them in the vital systems of whatever Pinkie Bot crossed his path, or simply blasting them to pieces with Lawgiver. Stripped, he fired off his rifle and bolts flew. Nimbus, shot robots to pieces with his ‘borrowed’ rifle, and watched as whatever remained caught aflame. Jabari and Gabby meanwhile just took the most practical approach and slashed bots to bits with his sword, and her knives. All the while, Target, up high, fired shot after shot from End of the Line to the few remaining turret users.

Finally, Twilight reached the factory door, and blew it open, with a Pinkie bot crawling towards her sparking as it did so, the entire back half completely missing. Twilight gave it a mournful look, before she brought her hoof down atop its head. She hung her head, and let a tear slip out from her eyes before she wiped it away. No, these were not Pinkie, not matter how much they looked it. Just crude robotic copies.

“So,” Twilight asked to Stripped Gear. “You were doubting me?”

Author's Note

Okay, so this whole chapter along with probably the next? It's a huge tribute to a friend of mine. Megaskullmon, or as I better know him, Malla. Hell, he even helped write Sugar and Flamethrower once more.

Now, reason I had Henri leave the party like that, well at around this time she has to make an appearance in this tale's parent story, Ruinqueen's story Survivor's Guilt. She'll be back soon enough though. Also, Stripped Gear? His name's totally a reference to the Hive series by law abiding pony. Seriously, give that series a read. Good for all us Changeling lovers, and Twilight Sparkle fans. Also, thank you to KrazyEzzy for the creation of Soulshine and letting me adopt him. Give her some love, eh?

Part 25: Control-Alt-Delete

“Can you see the real me...
Can ya, can you?”

“I went back to the doctor
To get another shrink.
I sit and tell him about my weekend,
But he never betrays what he thinks.”

“Can you see the real me, doctor?”-The Who: The Real Me, Quadrophenia

Privately, Twilight dreaded entering the factory, far too full of too many old demons for her liking really. She’d been there when the idea of this place was only just one tiny thought in Pinkie’s head during the wartime years. She’d heard of it constructed, although she’d never really had the luxury of seeing the thing for herself. And yet, here she was now, entering the damn place for herself.

A part of her trembled in terror. Needless to say, she’d had plenty of unresolved issues with Pinkie even though one of her old bodies did get the former Element of Laughter’s last message. For a moment, she smiled. Ditzy Doo or Muffins as she used to be called. The new bearer of the Element, it was only fitting. She always kept up a happy face even when life chose a moment to shit on her, get her fired from a job due to her sheer clumsiness. Another pony would take her, she always said with the biggest grin on her face. Then her smile faded once more.

“I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here…” Twilight thought to herself, before she shook those thoughts clear from her mind. “No, I have to be here. If there’s anypony alive with even the slightest glimmer of hope, a ghost of a chance of talking sense back into the AI that runs this place, it’s me for better or for worse.”

Twilight thought back to a time, centuries ago when everything seemed to be all well and good between her and her marefriend, even when the war with the Zebras was at a tipping point. It was… Oh, she’d forgotten the exact date really. All she remembered was it was at the Ministry of Arcane Sciences lab in Maripony. Yeah, that one.

Pinkie did her usual hopping in place like she normally did. “Twilly! It’s so happy! What is so happy?” She stopped herself a moment thinking. “I don’t know.”

“...Don’t see what’s there to be happy about. Just got words of Zebra scouts from one of our lookouts at the Bucklyn Cross. Tempest warned me about a possible incursion there, ignored her saying that Echo and his troops had that place well-covered,” Twilight said, not even bothering to look up from her desk, away from her papers and at her marefriend.

Pinkie just looked at Twilight a frown forming on her face. She grew pretty angry. “War this!! War that. Why.. war…” Pinkie shaking her head. “No more..”

“Honestly, with the benefit of hindsight, and something -I don’t know what it is- tells me I’ll be saying that a lot in the future, if we’d just tried to talk to the Zebras, tell them that Luna isn’t some madmare descended from the stars then maybe… just maybe…” Twilight whispered to herself, taking a swig of a nearby bottle of booze.

Pinkie like she normally did took a drug those Party Time Mint-Als as they called them. Not that Twilight noticed this at the time, she’d started to busy herself in her work more, distract herself from the Hell that Equestria was becoming. She started to act odder but happier. She stared off into no direction in particular like she was seeing something just out of view. A smile formed on her face. “We’ll be okay, Twilight, you will save us. You will do so much for us even after the rest of us are long gone!”

“Wish I could believe that one…” Twilight mumbled. “And what’s this talk about all of us being long gone, we can get through this! The Elements haven’t failed u-us yet…” she continued, starting to choke on her words, some of her bangs framing the side of her face, wings drooping off to the sides.

Pinkie finally looked away from whatever she was seeing. She placed a hoof under Twilights chin to lift her eyes to hers. “You need to be strong Twilight, this war has ruined so much laughter and happiness in a once beautiful land of friendship. I’d hate to say it but Neighsay was right.”

Twilight finally looked up from her papers, and her gaze turned hard, stern. Cold even. It was a gaze she’d picked up from Tempest, the kind that said she had no time for beating around the bush or any form of bullshit.

“Right about what?” Twilight growled venomously.

“Teaching friendship to bunch of stripers. The fact they would never accept our way of life even if you tried teaching them that. They’re what they have always been, striped fools. If they did that school of Luna’s wouldn’t be full of the dead.”

Twilight’s eyes glistened with tears. “P-Pinkie…” she whispered. “How can you say that? What about Zecora, what about her? She’s been a dear friend to both of us for years now!”

Pinkie started her singing. “She's an evil enchantress, she does evil dances. And if you look deep in her eyes, she'll put you in trances. ..It's been years. I forgot the rest of the song.”

“Wow, catchy.” Twilight deadpanned, in an eerie echo of what she’d said to Pinkie the first time she sang that ‘song’ all of those years ago. “I… I can’t believe you…” Twilight sniffled. “Even you, getting caught up in all of this… this bullshit!” Twilight roared and gestured to the door. “Get out! I said get out!”

Pinkie looked at the door, her hair drooping. “Twilight, are you trying to tell me something?”

“I… I said get out,” Twilight whispered, nearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. Go, just go.”

Pinkie’s ears drooped along with her mane slowly walking out the door, and just for a single moment in time, she dared to try and look back. “I’m sorry Twilight,” She smiled weakly, before exiting through the doorway and shutting it. “But you’ll see… in time.”

In the end, Twilight often wondered which of the two was right. Perhaps both were, or maybe neither. Her mind was such a jumbled mess of memories that weren’t always her own it was impossible to tell who won the war in the end, Equestria or the Zebra Empire. Or perhaps everybody lost. That’s what she generally ended up believing most of the time.

“Thinking again Twilight?” Gabby asked softly. “About how we ended up in this… mess?”

Twilight never answered, giving Gabby her answer. The ghoul sighed sadly to herself, and used a paw to wipe away a tear from her eye in remembrance and clutched the wooden shield on her saddlebags just a little tighter for a brief moment. Behind them. Stripped Gear and Jabari shared a look and sighed.

“How’s that old expression go?” Stripped asked, his Cutie Mark of a rusted gear quite visible on his flank. Jabari blinked, he could have sworn that his Cutie Mark had been different before. Stripped then smiled sadly in remembrance. “Do not pity the dead. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.”

His Cutie Mark was a regular old cog again. Jabari blinked, maybe he’d just remembered wrong.

“Since when did you get so poetic, Stripped?” Jabari asked him.

“Eh, you sit around doing nothing, waiting for the next bit of news on the Enclave you get anxious and you find yourself needing something to do. So, I do what anypony else with nothing else to do does… Turn to books and the like,” Stripped answered. “I’ve picked a few things up here and there. So yeah, I am a bit poetic as you put it. What’s wrong with being cultured?”

“...Fair point, and I’ve really got no room to talk given my sword’s been given the name Bleeding Edge.” Jabari admitted shrugging his shoulders.

“Does give the sword a certain je ne sais quoi as Flashfire would probably put it,” Stripped commented before he laughed. “Trust me man, you do not want to know how many times I’ve had to play translator to his Prench phrases.”

Jabari burst out laughing, before a huge black paw covered his mouth and shushed him.

“Anybody else get the feeling that we’re being watched?” Riptalon asked, eying the rafters and catwalks above them quite carefully. For just a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw something dart through the shadows above them. “Could be nothing, could be just radroaches but still…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s too quiet in here. I’ve been half-expecting us to get jumped ever since we stepped hoof into this damned place,” Nimbus agreed. “Part of me wants to think all of those Pinkie Pie bots we’d encounter were at the doors and in the trenches and we made short work of them all, but the logical, and possibly paranoid part of my mind says… they were only just the beginning.”

“Got two things for you then. One, it’s not really paranoia if everyone’s out to get you. And two: “To most ponies, paranoia carries a negative connotation. I believe it is one of the most valuable attributes a leader can have. It is about self-reflection and having the courage, humility, and discipline to constantly ask uncomfortable questions that can potentially poke holes in your strategy and challenge your conventional thinking.” Stripped recited.

“...You know, you sounded like Stormy Skies for a moment there. Please don’t do that again, had enough of his remarks for one lifetime,” Nimbus deadpanned before he slipped another magazine into his pistol. “Though in this instance, and as much as I loathe to admit it, you might be onto something here,” he sighed before going for his radio he’d picked back up at the command center in No Man’s Land. “Target, you got eyes on the factory?”

A voice crackled through the other end of the radio.

“Yeah, got my rifle trained on the windows. Managed to position myself on a ridge that overlooks the right side of the factory windows,” Target replied. “Now, don’t mean to brag, but I could hit a flea on a wall inside the place from here!”

Nimbus groaned and muttered something that distinctly sounded like: “Pudding brain…” before speaking. “Then don’t brag. Either shut your bloody piehole, or give us something I’d actually like to hear,” he replied, in an annoyed tone of voice. “Just tell me, are we or are we not being watched?”

“Oh yeah… I’m getting heat sigs all around you,” Target replied, and there was the sound of another magazine being loaded into End of the Line over the radio. “There’s definitely someone, or rather something, watching you alright. Prepare yourselves, in the next few minutes or so you’re bound to get jumped. I’ll see what I can do to give you some breathing room, but I’m not offering much. Low on ammo as it is. You’ll be on your own pretty damn quickly here. My advice, get yourself the Hell out of wherever you are, charge ‘em if you can, and then find yourself someplace to hole yourself up,” Target stated, drawing on every bit of her Steel Ranger training she had. “Avoid choke points, if possible. I don’t know what’ll be coming at you, but-”

“Yeah, I know,” Nimbus replied as he began to break off into a gallop. “The whole point of such a thing, limit how many enemies can get past you. If they’ve got guns, no point to it as they can just fire right at you. I’m not stupid remember? I have fought in a gunfight before,”

Nimbus spread his wings and rocketed up to a catwalk and took aim as a nearby door exploded, with a hoard of Pinkie-Bots pouring into the room chanting “Fun!” over and over. Nimbus thought that was the exact opposite of the situation, personally.

A sniper shot flew by, hitting a Pinkie-Bot in the head, and Nimbus’ gun rattled in his hooves as he fired, with the Zebra Rifle’s specially enchanted bullets igniting the internal mechanisms of the bots.

A barrage of shots flew by his head, and one nicked him in the shoulder, drawing blood as Nimbus grimaced out in pain. He turned, only to see another group of Pinkie-Bots approaching him from the side.

“What the flying fuck…?” He thought even as another shot from End of the Line blasted a hole clean through his shooter’s head. “It’s like they knew I’d do that! Sure, basic battle tactics, get up high if you’re a sharpshooter but still, it’s almost like both squads are coordinating with each other. Like they know every move we’re going to make before we even do it! It’s almost as if they’re… Oh, Celestia.” he realized, but far too late to voice his fears to the others. Another set of doors blew open, and another squad of Pinkie Bots came at the group below him from behind. Twilight threw up a shield as attacks came from both sides, and an aura of purple magic surrounded the group, the former Princess of Friendship’s eyes narrowed in concentration. She fired several small purple fireballs in the air like mortars, and blew holes in the squads, dispersing them, before they regrouped into much smaller ones.

“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together, don’t you agree Twilight Sparkle?” a voice asked, rather cheerful. But in a psychotic manner, and if you listened closely you could detect a hint of disdain.

“Pinkie…” Twilight thought, as a tear rolled down her face and she thought back to how everything went so wrong.

“I’m leaving,” Twilight said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have come.” Her voice, it was barely audible over the noise of the party. Pinkie Pie’s voice however could somehow be heard clearly over the intense rock music.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Twilight! It’s a paaaar-teee! Have fun! Have fun! Have fun! Have fun! Have fun!” She sang it like a mantra.

Twilight lifted one forehoof off the ground, and just for a moment, events could have gone either way. But then she stomped the hoof down with a loud noise, cracking the floor beneath her.

“I’m not having fun, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight snarled, her voice dangerous and loud. “And do you want to know a secret? Neither. Are. You!”

Pinkie Pie giggled. “Of course I’m having fun! There’s cake and ice cream and cupcakes and the best party music and drinks and party favors and…”

Twilight was swift to cut her off.

“And these?” The unicorn floated a tin off a nearby table. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were.

“Yep! Especially those!” The pink pony was nearly beaming. In everyone’s eyes, -Well, everyone who wasn’t high as a kite- they could easily tell that type of grin didn’t sit right on Pinkie’s face.

Twilight ripped open the tin with a surprising show of force, and then she tipped it over, spilling Party-Time Mint-als all across the dance floor. Some bounced over the side of a nearby balcony, others down the stairs. The pink pony gasped and jumped for them, scooping them up.

“I’m sick of lying for you,” Twilight snapped, her gaze intense. “For covering for you with the Princess. Everypony is. And I’m not going to do it anymore.”

Pinkie looked up with a glare as she picked up her Party-Time Mint-als. “You didn’t have to do that, you witchy-twitchy-rhymes-with-itchy.”

“You’re not a party pony anymore, Pinkie; you’re just an addict. Like half the ponies at your parties.” The purple unicorn stared at the pink pony, unleashing a swelling of anger that’d been building up inside her for quite some time now. “Well this is it. I want my old friend back. I want my Pinkie Pie. You are not her. But if you should happen to find her, have her give me a call.”

With that, everything went into a dead silence.

“Twi…” Pinkie whispered, a small tear forming in one of her eyes. She wasn’t alone, as Twilight’s own orbs were welling up with tears with what she had to say.

“No, don’t ‘Twi’ me. It won’t work this time. Either clean up and fess up...” she took a deep breath. “…or this friendship is over!”

Twilight turned and walked away. The pink pony seemed to deflate. Even her hair fell limp. “Oh gosh, Twi.” Applejack sighed to herself.

Rainbow Dash, who had long stopped laughing, flapped her wings. “She’s kinda right.” And then the blue pegasus slowly flew towards the exit. She still beat Twilight out the door.

In a voice that to this day that she was never quite sure reached Pinkie, Twilight responded “If you decide to be my Pinkie Pie again… really do… and need help, you know where to call.”

“I’m so sorry Pinks,” Twilight thought to herself, as another tear managed to work it’s way down her face. “But I did what I had to.”

A volley of bullets bounced off Twilight’s shield, even as the group inside fired off everything they had in their arsenal, Gabby and Riptalon using their knives to slice apart any bots who got a little too close for comfort. Stripped Gear’s eyes widened when he saw where this volley was coming from.

One Pinkie-Bot, holding what looked to be a hand-crank powered gatling gun was spitting out bullets like some sort of nightmarish fusion of a pepper grinder and a minigunner.

“Shit!” Stripped swore. “One of those old handcrankers? I thought those things went out of production ages ago!” he shouted. He was referring to, of course, the infamous peppermill crank gun, deemed rapidly obsolete and a use only by the truly desperate. It was first designed by either the Ministry of Awesome or the Ministry of Wartime Technology as some sort of experimental thing during the early days of the war when weapon design was really in its infancy. Quite quickly, the weapon had been figured out to have various crucial flaws. One, it expended ammo quite quickly, secondly it required a brief wind-up before you could fire, and finally, the reload time was appalling. Only thing more appalling than any of this, were the casualties racked up on the battlefield by those who used it. Not those on the receiving end of course -Although those figures were fairly high- but by those who used it. More often than not, whole squadrons of crank gun users were wiped out by superior Zebra weapons tech.

Now normally, Stripped would be laughing at someone even trying their hands at using such an obsolete weapon against them, but considering the current situation, he had every right to be afraid. That was, with one crank-gun user coming from the right side, and another from the left. And Twilight’s shield could only hold out forever. Even now, small cracks were beginning to appear.

Finally, some breathing room was gained as one of the crank gunners was hit squarely in the head, as a loud bang tore through the air, and a bullet whizzed by Riptalon’s head. He felt the rushing of air as it hit, blowing the Pinkie-Bot’s main computing systems to smithereens. The body fell to the ground, headless and sparking with the peppermill crank gun clattering loudly as it hit the factory floor.

“I’m out!” Target shouted over the radio. “That was my last magazine!”

“One down… A hell of a lot more to go.” Riptalon muttered as he, with a loud boom shot another one of the Pinkie-Bots to pieces with a sharp blast from Lawgiver, reducing it to just a mess of gears, wires and various limbs.

It’s head rolled in front of Riptalon, and let out one last drone of “Fun…” before giving up the ghost.

As if to make matters worse, the shield finally broke from the constant outpouring of bullets thrown at it, and shattered like glass.

“Oh fuck me with Celestia’s horn!” Riptalon exclaimed, as everyone ran for the nearest piece of cover they could find. “You only choose now for that rifle to finally run out of bullets!?! No, seriously, fuck me with both Celestia and Luna’s horns! Both of ‘em!”

Lawgiver barked, and reduced several more Pinkie-Bots to piles of scrap metal. The only reason the group managed to survive was at that moment, the other crank gun chose that very moment to jam.

“Not my fault custom ammo is hard to come by!” Target’s voice crackled over the radio. ‘I’ll backtrack, I know one of you left a Novasurge Rifle around here somewhere!”

The galloping of hooves was heard before Target cut the connection.

“This is on you, Twilight Sparkle, fun-killer and ruiner of all parties!” the Pinkie-AI screeched over the din of various gunfire, blasts of magic, the swings of metal blades slashing through the air and sometimes hitting their marks, and the constant outpouring of shouts of “Fun!”. “You could have chosen to support me, let the party continue forever! But no, instead you forced me to go cold-turkey!”

“I… I had to! There was no other way!” Twilight pleaded. “You weren’t yourself anymore, Pinks!”

“It’s not Pinkie, it’s just an AI who thinks it’s the real deal!” Stripped shouted, lining up a shot with his rifle, and pulling the trigger. A red beam of pure magical energy scythed through several bots, including one going for the crank gun rendering them to nothing but ashes. But his words fell on deaf ears, as to Twilight for all intents and purposes, this was, in fact, Pinkie Pie.

“I was… I was doing fine,” the AI bellowed, seemingly choking over her speech (Could AIs even do that, Riptalon wondered.) as a holographic head of it’s basis appeared on a screen. “Until you had to come along, and take everything away from me! My friends, my life! My parties! I built my life around being a party pony, and you ruined it!”

Several arms, on production lines, came to life and fired searing hot lasers at Twilight, who she only just barely deflected with shields of magic. Behind her, both Jabari and Gabby struck down more of the bots with their blades. Riptalon joined in as well when Lawgiver finally ran out of ammo and went to work with both of his combat knives.

“Well, that’s the last of it…” he sighed, looking through his pouches for any spare scraps of ammo he may have had on his person or even any explosives. No such luck. With that, he drew his knives to face the oncoming hoard. “Alright then, you want some fun? I’mma give it to you good, and then some!” he roared, and charged slicing through the robots in a flurry of motion.

Nimbus, as he went into S.A.T.S mode, muttered: “Luna fuck me over with her moon…” and lined up his targets, and let the bullets fly as he leaped to the left to avoid some gunfire sent towards him. He smiled when he saw several Pinkie-Bots catch aflame as bullets whizzed by his head. Not that he could smile for long really, as he saw Stripped Gear being backed into a railing against a deep, yawning black abyss leading deeper into the lower bowels of the factory and Celestia-knew-where-else. A Pinkie-Bot, with a powerful buck of her hind legs sent him tumbling into it.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Nimbus shouted, flaring his wings and rocketing down into the pit after him. For the briefest of seconds, he saw a pure white pony, with lime green detailing in the fur. This only spurred him on even more and soon, right before Stripped could hit the cold, unforgiving ground, Nimbus caught him. However, he couldn’t control his speed and both he and Stripped hit the ground, armor being ripped and torn through as fabrics shredded from the sheer force of the impact. They’d survived, but only just and their uniforms had paid the price as shown when they picked themselves up off the ground, covered in blood.

“Like some Angel from Celestia’s heaven, aren’t you?” Stripped teased, wincing out in pain. He figured a few bones had been broken in the impact. Nimbus’ right wing looked bent in a rather unnatural way.

“Well, you know what they say… Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread,” Nimbus replied, and Stripped gave him a look of abject shock. “What, don’t look so surprised. I’ve done some reading as well, about some of the only stuff I could do at times. You’re not the only cultured one around here.”

“You could swoon a buck or a mare, you know that right?” Stripped teased and Nimbus chuckled at that before he took a long look around him. Lining the walls were long brass pipes extending far beyond their line of vision into a deep yawning cave. Metal walls turned to rock, and concrete flooring turned to pure stone. Behind them, lay long abandoned factory floors with production lines having long gone silent, various parts lying all around them. Spellfire echoed above them, but Nimbus and Stripped paid it no mind. Not like they could rejoin their allies anyways.

“Where… where do you think we are?” Nimbus asked nervously. Stripped looked down the hallway, his eyes narrowing.

“How far do you think that tunnel goes?” he asked.

“Hardly the time to abandon our allies!” Nimbus snapped, but Stripped again asked a question.

“No, the wrong way to phrase that I think. How old do you think that tunnel is?” he questioned, and Nimbus’ eyes widened with dawning realization and horror as the penny dropped with a resounding clang.

“Oh sweet Celestia in Heaven…” he muttered before he heard an even more horrific sound as machines began to start up and build more Pinkie-Bots, before a door behind them opened and revealed a platoon of half-finished bots, not completely covered in armor plating revealing their internal mechanisms. Stripped Gear, if he was to be completely honest would admire the craftsmanship if he was in any other situation.

Nimbus meanwhile went for his radio again, and called Flashfire.

“Flashfire, please tell me you’ve got a lot of ammo stored up in that little command center of yours!” he shouted into the comms as he pulled out his pistol. The Zebra Rifle he’d been carrying had snapped on impact.

“Not a lot, but it should last me a good bit if anyone ever came a-knocking. Well, I’d go down in a flamboiement de gloire at least, if that’s what you’re asking, eh papillon?”

Nimbus, even as he fired a shot into a Pinkie-Bot’s head, quirked an eyebrow. He’d only later find out that’s what Flashfire called all pegasi.

“Mate, no time to consider being suicidal, or going out in whatever the hell a flamboiement de gloire is!” Nimbus snapped. Stripped opened his mouth to translate, but thought the better of it as he fired a shot into a half-built Pinkie-Bot.

“Is… Is that gunfire?” Flashfire asked nervously.

“Oh, what, did you think it’s cello music?” Nimbus snapped. “You’re going to have incoming in a minute if me and Stripped here fall! Hold the line as long as you can, and protect Starglow above all else! Do you hear me? Protect Starglow!” he bellowed, and over the radio, he heard a small explosion, the sound of gunfire starting up and a very familiar and very unwelcome sound.

“Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!”

Nimbus swore and fired off more rounds, reloading as needed.

“Oh, you really drag me into the loveliest of tasks, don’t you Morningstar!” Flashfire snapped, as he fired off a magical spell. What kind, Nimbus wasn’t able to tell, but he hoped it was a good one. Had to have been, judging by the loud explosion that followed.

“We feel free when we escape—even if it be but from the frying pan into the fire,” Stripped muttered to himself. From one battlefield, to another.

High above, Twilight was desperately trying to negotiate with the Pinkie-AI.

“Pinks…” Twilight whispered tearfully, drowning out all the sounds of chaos around her. “We’re friends, you know me.”

“We. Are. Not. Friends!” the AI screeched. “You ruined that, when you told me to throw all of those Mint-Als down the toilet!”

“It was for your own good, and you know it!” Twilight shouted back, tears streaming down her face, as she tried anything and everything to jog the AI’s memory, and remind her of who she used to be. And then she remembered. During some of those long cold nights, when the war was at it’s peak, Pinkie and Twilight poured over old Friendship Reports, just trying to remember times gone by, before everything all went to Hell. “It's hard to believe that two ponies that seem to have so little in common could ever get along. But I found out that if you embrace each other's differences, you just might be surprised to discover a way to be friends after all.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Jabari asked, as with one wide swing, he cleaved a Pinkie-Bot’s head clean off its neck.

“My friends and I all learned an important lesson this week: Never judge a book by its cover. Someone may look unusual, or funny, or scary. But you have to look past that and learn who they are inside. Real friends don't care what your "cover" is; it's the contents of a pony that count. And a good friend, like a good book, is something that will last forever.” Twilight continued. Two robots charged towards her, but two blasts of orange energy incinerated them. Target stood atop a catwalk, holding a Novasurge rifle.

“No… No, those can’t be,” Gabby whispered, as she used her knives to strike down another bot. “I read those lessons in a book once! Twilight herself published it, just a few years before the Zebras began their campaign…”

“Lessons!?!” Riptalon roared. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Lessons, lessons on friendship…” Gabby whispered.

“I've learned that sometimes the solution to your problems can come from where you least expect it. It's a good idea to stop and listen to your friends' opinions and perspectives. Even when they don't always seem to make sense…” Twilight continued, and Riptalon swore he was imagining it, but the robots, they seemed to lessen in number. “I am happy to report that I now realize there are wonderful things in this world you just can't explain, but that doesn't necessarily make them any less true. It just means you have to choose to believe in them. And sometimes it takes a friend to show you the way.”

And astoundingly, something seemed to click in the AI’s mind, and she actually vanished from the screen, before swirling lines of code appeared in front of Twilight and they took form. A pink pony, bubblegum pink in fact with a perpetually bouncy mane and three balloons for a Cutie Mark stepped forwards, before speaking in that voice only one mare could ever speak in.

“There are many different kinds of friends, and many ways to express friendship. Some friends like to run and laugh and play together. But others just like to be left alone, and that's fine too. But the best thing about friendship is being able to make your friends smile.” The AI repeated before smiling and pulling Twilight into a hug whispering “Thank you.”

“No… Thank you, Pinkie. I finally got to see you one last time, even if you…”

“Weren’t in the best of sorts?” Pinkie laughed, and Twilight chuckled at that before the AI continued. “Did you ever get my… Well, not my message of course, but you know what I mean… right?” Pinkie asked.

Twilight wiped away some tears from her eyes with a wing, and smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

Pinkie returned the smile, before it faded. “I guess this is where the party finally stops, isn’t it?” she asked, and Twilight nodded. Pinkie lunged forwards and gave Twilight a very passionate kiss, cupping her face with her hooves before pulling away. “Wish I didn’t have to end things on such a low note, but… Well, I guess it’s time for me to pack up my balloons, streamers and for this Pie to hit the road! You can go on without me, right Twilight?”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll manage.” Twilight sniffled, and just like that, the former bearer of the Element of Laughter vanished, blinking out like a light. The last thing to be visible, before it too vanished? That would have been her smile.

Author's Note

Okay, I'm truly sorry for any tears shed. What I'm not sorry for, is Twilight using all those Friendship Lessons at the end to talk sense into the Pinkie-AI and the Halo 4-like ending to the chapter. I felt it worked, honestly.

As for credit where credit is due, thank you Malla (Or Megaskullmon, whichever you prefer) for helping me write the first flashback sequence with Pinkie, and credit to KKat for the original version of the Last Party sequence.

Part 26: Time Judges All

Another day in the oh-so-wonderful wastes, Jabari mused as they left Fillydelphia behind in a drenching downpour as thunder cracked somewhere overhead, and trekked onwards to this apparently famous Junction Town. Personally, he didn’t see what was so great about it really, the zorse thought to himself. Just another outcropping in a sea of small towns that just so happened to honor a ‘hero’.

A hero, whom he might add basically did some unscrupulous things to get what she wanted. In his mind, Littlepip was no better than Red Eye. The two weren’t so different, really in some ways. Sure, Red-Eye resorted to slavery, but Littlepip could arguably be considered a mass murderer trying to justify a means to an end. She was after all, prone to bouts of outrage and went all trigger happy whenever this happened if the stories were true. Just ask the remnants of Arbu’s massacre. Hellmare indeed. He thought back to a conversation between him and Cannonball back in Tiria’s settlement…

“Cannon,” Jabari asked. “What, in your honest opinion was Littlepip like?”

Jabari was only a young buck then, about eleven years of age and still recovering from the death of his mother.

The large old rat stared down at him. He was an odd creature to be sure, hunched back like a diamond dog. His left leg gone and in its place a machine gun.

“Frankly I never met her. My species even if we are happy with what she did, we don’t trust ponies. She may be this Lightbringer but to us, she is just as bad as Red-Eye.”

“How so?” Jabari asked in surprise, considering for all his life he’d heard nothing but soaring praise for Littlepip from Homage’s radio show.

He sighed, looking away.

“It’s a long painful story little one. But ponies have attacked us all our lives. It took Tiria just for us to trust the ones we have with us. Thanks to what Wheeltread did to my species. Trying to buy us as slaves. Trying to own us, just chasing us from Manehatten to out here to this dump. Continuously saying that he owns us. We will be his, we will be his slaves. Naming us… Rat Creepers. Ponies to me if not all of them I digress are just as big as a threat they were in the war. You got to understand hatred will always last. No matter even if some did well.”

“Still not getting to the point, how was the Lightbringer as bad as Red-Eye?” Jabari pressed, his horn crackling with magic in his frustration.

He sighed, Jabari telling right off the bat that he didn’t want to talk about it. Not to someone so young.

“Please, hardly innocent anymore. I was forced to eat my own mother’s entrails, and watch someone get crucified!” Jabari deadpanned. “He deserved it all the same, but…” Jabari sighed, trailing off.

“Young age to my kind is a way of learning. But learning of evil is not something we wish. But…” Cannon sighed, taking a deep breath. I’m sorry to ruin your image of this perfect pony, but Littlepip, she murdered a town of ponies. Now she had every right to for what they did. But the eyes of my kind that is a threat. Now maybe I’m focusing to much on the hatred of the past,” Cannon sighed again, shaking his head. “But I always have learned no matter what a pony may have a good want to do what they do. But so did the war at first. I wasn’t there but my kind are what came from it.”

He sighed again.

“Maybe I’m too focused on what happened. But even though she is a hero to you and others,” Cannon took another deep hesitant breath. “To us, she could just turn into another threat. I don’t mean to be this way little one. Just after years and years of pain from them, It’s hard for most to understand.”

“I… I see.” Jabari whispered, and nodding his head with Cannon’s words leaving him a lot to think on.

And what did Littlepip get out of all of it in the end? Well, she became a god just like Red-Eye wanted, and one hell of a bad one really considering she wasn’t doing jack-shit to give the Wasteland any help against the Enclave. Sure, he knew she was stuck in that tower of hers, but she could easily send down lightning bolts from this manufactured storm of hers like some thunder goddess of old times to strike down Enclave aircraft.

In the end he, he supposed, time would judge them all. After all, was he any different than those two? Killing and slaughtering Raiders as he made his way to the Stable where he’d met up with Nimbus and the others. Raiders, in his mind, were just simply ponies just trying to make a living in this world. Sure, he didn’t sympathize with their methods, not by a long shot but at times he had to wonder, what was right or wrong in this world at times?

“Time judges us all,” Tiria had liked to say he remembered. “Time will judge us all.”

Jabari himself would admit this to be true. His own coat was covered in the blood of others, at least metaphorically. In actuality, it was machine oil but to him, those Pinkie-Bots deserved a second chance. They were living things too in a sense, were they not?

Thinking back, he remembered back to the fight at the factory, and how it ended. Sure, he like everyone else saw Pinkie herself manifesting as this hologram and kissing Twilight full on the lips, but did that Pinkie-AI really know how many ponies she killed, or came close to killing?

He suspected not.

Jabari found himself in the midst of chaos. This was definitely not what he signed on for. Kill some Raiders, kill some Enclave, not deal with mad robots! Firing a small blast from his horn, shorting out a robot, he groaned out in pain. He never really had been able to master magic. It was different for half-unicorns like him, they didn’t have so much control over magic as compared to say, a full-blooded unicorn. They were lucky if their magic didn’t go wild and spark chaotically. Certain spells, Jabari knew, could literally burn him up if he wasn’t careful.

“This is on you, Twilight Sparkle, fun-killer and ruiner of all parties! You could have chosen to support me, let the party continue forever! But no, instead you forced me to go cold-turkey!”

“I… I had to! There was no other way!” Twilight pleaded. “You weren’t yourself anymore, Pinks!”

“I was… I was doing fine,” the AI bellowed, seemingly choking over her speech as a holographic head of it’s basis appeared on a screen. “Until you had to come along, and take everything away from me! My friends, my life! My parties! I built my life around being a party pony, and you ruined it!”

“This, this is madness!” Stripped Gear shouted, before Jabari bore witness to the unicorn falling over the side of a railing. Jabari tried to reach out and catch him with his magic, but it was no use. Jabari let out a shout of despair, before he saw a distinctive stormcloud gray form dart down with the speed of a rocket after the pony.

He sighed in relief, before swinging around with Bleeding Edge and decapitating a Pinkie Bot. Pulling out a pair of SMGs from his foreleg holsters he’d nabbed from the NCR weapons cache back in No Mans Land, he let a group of them have it.

High above, Twilight was desperately trying to negotiate with the Pinkie-AI.

“Pinks…” Twilight whispered tearfully, drowning out all the sounds of chaos around her. “We’re friends, you know me.”

“We. Are. Not. Friends!” the AI screeched as Jabari’s SMGs ran out of ammo, and he tossed them aside. “You ruined that, when you told me to throw all of those Mint-Als down the toilet!”

“It was for your own good, and you know it!” Twilight shouted back, tears streaming down her face. “It's hard to believe that two ponies that seem to have so little in common could ever get along. But I found out that if you embrace each other's differences, you just might be surprised to discover a way to be friends after all.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Jabari asked, as with one wide swing, he cleaved a Pinkie-Bot’s head clean off its neck.

Nimbus’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Flashfire, please tell me you’ve got a lot of ammo stored up in that little command center of yours!” he shouted into the comms as he pulled out his pistol.

“Not a lot, but it should last me a good bit if anyone ever came a-knocking. Well, I’d go down in a flamboiement de gloire at least, if that’s what you’re asking, eh papillon?”

“Mate, no time to consider being suicidal, or going out in whatever the hell a flamboiement de gloire is!” Jabari heard Nimbus shout.

“Is… Is that gunfire?” Flashfire asked nervously.

“Oh, what, did you think it’s cello music?” Nimbus snapped in the most sarcastic tone possible. “You’re going to have incoming in a minute if me and Stripped here fall! Hold the line as long as you can, and protect Starglow above all else! Do you hear me? Protect Starglow!”

Then the familiar chant of “Fun!” started up again, and Jabari narrowed his eyes. He knew what he had to do. Concentrating all of his magic into his horn, and hoping and praying this wasn’t stupid as all hell, he teleported out in a flash of bright green light and just in time to cleave a Pinkie-Bot in half with his shock sword Bleeding Edge, engine oil splattering his face as the smoldering pieces fell to the ground in a heap.

Flashfire was unloading round after round into the oncoming hoard, after directing Starglow to a safe spot behind some storage crates, but eventually, he heard the clicking of empty cartridges and the pony’s eyes widened.

“Oh fuck…” he muttered, before Jabari tossed him his shotgun, and the air was filled with the sound of a loud boom as magical energy utterly smashed a Pinkie Bot’s head to nothing but small pieces of scrap metal and molten slag.

Behind her crate, Starglow’s eyes were darting right and left at the carnage, and she was whispering: “Pinkie… why? Why would you do this?”

Soon, her cover was exposed as one Bot tossed the crates aside, and Jabari’s eyes widened as he cleaved off another bot’s head and he let out a shout of: “NO!”

But nothing happened, the bot’s optics seemed to soften in recognition and instead she turned her guns back onto Jabari and Flashfire who were rapidly getting backed into a corner.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of gunfire, as Soulshine recovered and pulled out his minigun and let the bots have it, the sound of thunder filling the room as he cut down swath after swath of the murder-bots in what Jabari saw to be glorious fashion -His heart started to beat a little faster, even if he didn’t quite know the reason then- like some sort of knight in shining armor until eventually, it was all over. Not with a bang, but with a whimper as the bots all seemed to clatter to the ground for no reason at all. One by one, they fell, clattering to the floor as the lights faded from their optics.

“Okay, someone want to explain to me what the ‘ell just happened?” Nimbus’s voice boomed.

“Twilight Sparkle happened,” Gabby stated, with more than a hint of pride in her tone.

Eventually, they left the ponies to their own devices, asking if they wanted to follow along to Junction Town but Soulshine simply shook his head. He said they had dead to bury, give them their proper respects. Jabari couldn’t argue with that. What stunned Stripped Gear and Flashfire more, was Nimbus joining in on the twenty-one gun salute as they laid the bodies to rest.

Nimbus’s words? “It may have been a fool’s battle, but they went out like soldiers should have. They at least deserve that much. I’m a bastard, I fully admit that, and I probably do deserve the nickname I’ve been given by Stormy, but I have full respect for any kind of soldier.”

The any kind of soldier phrasing did set a few members on edge, given what it sorta implied but then again, Jabari mused, a former member of the Enclave would probably have some leftover attachment to his former comrades.

“Just a few miles up ahead, we should be in Junction Town by nightfall provided no unfortunate circumstances befall us!” Target had shouted, looking over the horizon of the wastes atop a small boulder through a viewfinder.

“Oh, like the unfortunate circumstances we always seem to run into every other day?” Riptalon deadpanned. Target, of course, ignored him. Eventually, the group arrived at the ruins of an old church devoted to someone called “Megan” and a rectory. Odd name, really, but Jabari had seen and heard worse.

Inside the ruined walls of the church, Jabari observed happy ponies prancing around grassy fields alongside a blond-haired bipedal figure. Places like Ponyland, Flutter Valley and such were dropped in old bibles, and inside the ruins of the main church itself was a tomb seemingly devoted to this Megan. The roof had caved in, the stained glass long since shattered and rain was pouring inside the old church, but the tomb remained intact, spells long since placed on it ages before protecting the occupant.

“Who was she?” Jabari asked, after reading through some of the various texts with a sense of melancholy for happier, worry-free times.

“Megan,” Twilight sighed, lighting a fire of magical purple flame to withstand the cold battering rain. “Very few texts actually survive to tell us who she was really, but what we do know was that she was this great hero, looked up to by all, even the Princesses in their young age. Guided them, showed them the way alongside their teacher in magic, Starswirl the Bearded.”

“You lot, you had it lucky really. Lot of other religions, whatever god or goddess they believe in, can't just have gone and talked to 'em if things got rough,” Nimbus muttered, speaking up for the first time since they’d entered this place. “You Equestrians...? Well, you could just saunter up to Canterlot Castle or someplace like here and Bob's your uncle.”

“Never took you for the religious type Nimbus,” Riptalon remarked in surprise.

“Considering where I grew up, you'd probably be more surprised if I didn't believe in a higher power.” Nimbus deadpanned.

“Heh, some higher power and some goddess if she let your precious country and the rest of the world get all turned to Hell.” Riptalon snarked.

“...Fair point.” Nimbus was forced to admit.

“By Celestia’s ne-” Jabari whispered softly, quickly stopping himself upon remembering what a holy site this was. “I never knew how far back your history went. I just have to wonder, when did it all go so wrong? And why?”

“That’s… that’s a story I’d like to know myself honestly. It’s a question I ask myself every few days or so.” Twilight replied sadly, shaking her head.

“All because of some damned rock from the stars,” a new voice said, as a zebra leaped down from a windowsill, some sort of glyph adorning her flank. She wore various beads and necklaces, alongside a tattered brown cloak and some gold hoops through her right ear. “I found that rock you know, and it still infuriates me to this very day that the damned war was started over some bloody damned superstition over your Princess being this demon from the stars amongst other brands of shit.”

All of the ponies gave the zebra a look, glaring at her for swearing in such a holy site, and in front of a child. She had the decency to wince, at least for this second reason. “I apologize, Princess Twilight.”

“Y-You know who I am?” Twilight asked in shock, stuttering slightly. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Ponies will talk, especially after she basically committed a Sonic Rainboom in miniature at the battle of No Man’s Land.

“How many kinds of fool do you take me for, eh?” the zebra asked. “I mean, if the appearance alone wasn’t enough, your little stunt’s all over the wire now.”

Twilight groaned, her suspicions confirmed.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” Riptalon asked in suspicion, reaching for Lawgiver. Never hurt to be cautious these days. Some may have called him paranoid, but was it really that when every criminal gang in the wastes was out to get you?

“Xenith.” the zebra answered simply.

“...Right, you’re one of Littlepip’s posse aren’t you?” Riptalon remembered, smacking himself in the head for not remembering sooner. He’d heard her described, and even seen her in Junction Town once or twice before he went rogue.

“Yeah, suppose you could put it that way,” Xenith replied, and trotted up to one of the church pews and sat herself down upon it, the seat creaking under her weight. “So, came to Megan’s church eh?”

“Yeah, just for a quick break really,” Twilight said. “Rest our weary legs.” she continued, gesturing to Starglow who was nearly fast asleep by this point. Jabari honestly pitied the poor girl, wondering what kind of nightmares she’d have after seeing the Pinkie-Bots. To him, they were just ghosts of a long-dead mare, but to Starglow? She probably knew the real Pinkie more or less if what he’d heard was correct.

Taking out a small little violin from his saddlebags, along with a bow, he began to strum a soft song that Xenith recognized, and gave him a “Really?” look. Jabari rolled his eyes.

“It’ll soothe her to sleep, but I would like a vocalist. My singing voice… well, let’s go with it being fairly terrible and leave it that eh?”

“Fine, fine, but let it be known I’m during this under duress, and only for a filly,” Xenith mumbled before she began to croon out a soft song about a mysterious land as Jabari’s soft playing against the strings created this beautiful, wonderous sound. Seems everyone had their hidden talents.

“When you're walking alone seeking company and wine
In an unfamiliar city with its spires in the sky
She'll be all by herself under flickering streetlight
Her eyes will pull you in and then she melts into the night

“She'll slide to your side and compliment your stance
She'll stroke your rank and ego, promising a chance
She hangs on every word as you take in her perfume
Her laugh's bewitching music, you'll belong to her soon

“And she'll say --- Take me down to Zebratown
There's a place we can dance the night away
Drinks will flow, I'll dip, you sway
Once we're down in Zebratown to stay…”

Soon, Starglow was fast asleep, with Twilight pulling closer against her barrel with her wings to keep her warm.

“Does beg one to wonder, whatever happened to these places, like Ponyland and this Flutter Valley,” Nimbus pondered. “I’d honestly, at some better time when all this blows over, would like to find out. Go on a explore, just some grand adventure and find out for meself. Uncover a bit of lost history and all that.”

“Trust me,” Riptalon said. “This gets me curious. I’m not one for pony history, normally wouldn’t give a flying feather, but even I admit I want to know where you guys came from. So, if this was a better time and place you could count me in, I’d promise you that.” he smiled. Suddenly, Xenith’s ears perked up, and she motioned for silence. Twilight quickly put out the fire as everyone quieted down.

“Knew that song was a bad idea. Something’s coming,” she whispered out. “Hide, make yourselves scarce!” she hissed, as everyone got to cover, hiding behind ruins as Target, Jabari, Gabby and Twilight ushered Starglow out of the area leaving only Nimbus, Riptalon and Xenith behind to face the oncoming threat.

“Please let it be a deathclaw…” Riptalon muttered, readying Lawgiver.

“Why, oh why, are you wishing for a Deathclaw?” Xenith asked in disbelief.

“What, never heard of Claw baiting?” he asked in return, and Xenith gave him a look.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, with Nimbus just looking confused.

“What’s Claw baiting?”

“Well, if we survive this, I’ll tell you,” Riptalon replied as several Enclave troops in Stormy’s employ judging by their armor color busted in the door, only to be faced with Xenith holding a combat knife made of some unknown metal that glinted in the moonlight, and one very pissed off Ursagryph and former Enclave soldier.

“Hope you realize you’re in a house of God here, right?” Xenith snarled, eyes narrowing and leveling her blade. “You defile this sanctum.”

“Pretty sure he’s already tainted this church,” one of the soldiers said pointing to Nimbus before a shot rang out and he slumped to the floor dead, a hole in his helmet and blood pooling out.

“I beg to differ,” Nimbus commented. “I agree with the zebra. Only ponies tainting this place, you and your lot.”

And so a battle broke out, guns firing and blades meeting, Xenith, she had this almost dancelike-style as she gracefully ripped into the armor of the soldiers -Dodging every shot as she did so- with her starmetal coated knife, finishing the last one by shoving it right into his jugular. He gurgled a bit, before falling to the floor.

Nimbus made a small grimace of disgust at the sight after the short little skirmish was over and sighed and shook his head. “Really hated doing that, not sure why.”

After Riptalon wiped some of the blood out of his fur, he remarked: “Ya know, I think it's sorta an irony thing. Thou shall not kill, right?”

Nimbus shrugged. “Ah, I was never one for following rules anyhow. You should know that by now. Thou shall not steal, right? Sure as Hell been doing plenty of that.”

“...And cursing in a house of God.” Xenith muttered quietly to herself.

“No, I just have to wonder, what’s the point of it all? This killing, there’s just no bloody fucking point is there? No point at all… By Gusty the Great, this whole thing is just a bloody waste of time. In the end, all we’re going to do is kill ourselves over the orders of a madman. Sometimes I wonder, why I don’t just leave this entire Wasteland to rot in its filth.”

“Because,” Riptalon said, laying a claw on the pony’s shoulder. “Not the kind of pony you are. Sure, you’re a grade A asshole and a dick who could learn a bit of tact, but you’ve got a good heart and besides, I highly doubt you’d leave till you settle your score with Stormy, and find your brother.”

His resolve returning, Nimbus nodded.

“Well then,” he stated. “Can’t find him just by sitting around here eh? Soon as this storm passes, we get moving. Tally-Ho!”

And it wasn’t even that next morning, Gabby spotted something from atop a cliffside. Small buildings, and train cars in the distance along with a statue glinting in the early morning sunrise. “It’s here, Junction Town! Just over this next pass!”

And Nimbus smiled. Maybe, just maybe he could get a little peace. And find a bar to hole himself up in. Celestia knew he needed a fucking drink.

Author's Note

Okay, so, yeah. First off, apologies for the month-long wait. Had to really figure out how to tie this chapter in with the ending of the last. I do want to explain I don't share my views about Littlepip with Jabari. Sure, mare did some fairly terrible things, but to say she's as bad as Red-Eye? Going a bit far I think.

Still, I do believe showing someone else's perspective on her was a good idea (Thank you Malla for writing Cannonball's lines) and gave Jabari a bit more of a character. Now, if only I could figure out how to do the same with Gabby and Starglow.

Speaking of characters, Xenith. Wanted to include her, as the poor girl gets so little love in this fandom anyways, and she's a badass zebra. Also, Megan and all the G1 references. Figured it'd be an interesting if not melancholy twist, and I know Malla's included G1 references in his universe as it is.

Part 27: Homecoming

“Junction Town, what’s it like?” Jabari had to ask, even as the company climbed down the hillside pass that led into the town proper. “Heard a few things about it back home, chatter from the locals but never saw it for myself really.”

“Well kid,” Riptalon remarked. “Don’t go in expecting much, because what you’re basically getting is a place scavenged together from whatever the Wastelanders could find. I lived out of a refurbished boxcar for crying out loud!”

“Hello Equestrian Wasteland!” DJ-Pon-3’s voice sung from Nimbus’ Pipbuck. “Just want to give a shoutout to those assholes who decided it was such a nice thing to do to desecrate one of Megan’s churches! I mean, a House of the Holy for crying out loud!

“Can I just give a big fuck you to Stormy Skies for even asking his soldiers to do that? I mean, even I know the legend of Megan, uneducated as I am about your history. Stormy Skies’ pegasi, they’re descended from the exact same fucking race as the pegasi who first settled in Ponyland, so basically he’s trodding over the graves of his ancestors!

“Seriously, big-ass thank you to whoever drove those ponies, and I use that term very loosely now, off into the wilderness. Seriously, thank you, and another fuck you to Stormy Skies. Smite me now asshole, but fuck you!”

“Well, he’s certainly…” Nimbus blinked, rather at a loss for words. Even he wasn’t that bold, challenging Stormy Skies outright and calling him out. “...Brazen.”

“One word for it,” Target remarked, as she rested End of the Line over her shoulders. “I was going to go for mind-blowingly stupid, but whatever works for you I guess.”

As she looked over her shoulder, just to keep an eye out for any snipers hiding in the rocks, she swore she saw a stallion dressed in a long black coat and hat, but when she blinked he’d vanished into thin air. Target sighed to herself, the heat and lack of good food and water were starting to get to her. Make her hallucinate.

Nimbus’ brow furrowed, the way this broadcaster talked about history and even he knew this was probably reaching a little, some of it seemed to him like he wasn’t exactly a pony himself. Maybe he was a griffon, maybe he was a Kirin. Who was to say, really. He really had to question hiding his identity though, given anyone with even an ounce of common sense should have been able to figure out the real DJ-Pon-3 died long ago.

“Now, the only reason I can figure he’d hide her identity would be as if he’s…” Nimbus thought to himself, before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, by Celestia’s withers! You gotta be bloody kidding me! ...Well, I suppose that right there would warrant hiding your true identity, wouldn’t it?”

He sighed. By Gusty the Great, if that ever got out, there’d be chaos on Discord levels all across the Wasteland, everyone’s whole lives turned upside down if they ever found out one of their beloved DJs was… Well, suffice to say it wouldn’t be pretty. The fallout and Celestia forbid it ever came, would not be pretty.

“Let’s just hope and pray neither Winter nor Stormy ever get the smart idea ever to drop the veil as it were, and tell everyone DJ-Pon-3 isn’t exactly who she claims to be…” Nimbus continued to think to himself as he walked. He sighed to himself, thinking back as he remembered times long ago, high up in the city in the clouds, that kingdom to behold as it was called.

Coltlumbia:

“I’m just saying Winter,” Nimbus remarked as he and the pegasus mare strode right through the heart of Hurricane Bay, the artificial waters lapping at the shoreline. “You, in the considerations for our next President? Sure you’re up for this? I mean, sure our last couple of leaders were as nutty as they come so anyone would be an improvement, but a position government puts quite a few gray hairs in your mane. The main reason why I never even considered it. I have enough stress teaching half of the morons that pass for recruits these days to fire a Novasurge Rifleas it is!”

“You saw the casualty lists from the Civil War,” Winter said as she shook her head a little. “Not to mention the defections after Sunshine and Rainbows. If I don’t get the job, then somepony who is as nutty as the previous ones might. And, well that’s the last thing the Enclave needs right now.”

“Point,” Nimbus commented with a shrug of his shoulders, looking at Winter critically. If he didn’t know better, the mare almost seemed to be putting on some weight. Might have wanted to lay off some of the treats from the bay really. It wasn’t exactly a big secret Winter loved to come down here and enjoy the atmosphere. “I mean by Celestia, I’ve been hearing rumors of a certain religious idiot making waves in the political arena, saying he’s going to bring the Enclave back to it’s glory days,” Nimbus remarked before muttering to himself: “...As if we ever had any of those to begin with, bloody Autumn Leaf.” he grumbled, remembering all too well his public burning of the effigies of Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo a few years back before the whole disaster that was the Day of Sunshine and Rainbows.

“Which is why it’s more important than ever that we rebuild, not just the Enclave,” Winter said with a shake of her head. “We’ve let madponies run things for almost 200 years, we have to look to the future. The Day of Sunshine and Rainbows exposed the people to the truth and after Gardens of Equestria went off and the other events, we may have to consider the possibility that our future isn’t above the clouds.”

“You think?” Nimbus deadpanned. “Place is falling apart, just look at Flankton. They call it’s a worker’s paradise, but hardly anyone can get a job and even those that do, well they just barely manage to scrape by! And let’s not even get into the racist hellhole that’s Wonderbolt Fields. I swear I saw just the other day the carousel being fitted with Zebra lookalikes for the little pegasus foals and fillies to ride! I swear, if it wasn’t illegal, I’d blow that bloody thing up. It’s an eyesore, that’s what it is.” Nimbus started, beginning to go into a small rant.

“I agree,” Winter said with a sigh as she looked around. “We need to re-evaluate our priorities as a nation. Coltlumbia was a breaking point for us, the rebellion lit a fuse to a massive powder keg and we’re left trying to rebuild it.”

“...And that’s going so well. All it’d take would be for one pony with the right demeanor to take control over Coltlumbia and then we’d be right back where we started. Boom, just like that!” Nimbus sighed.

Winter paused a moment as she looked around and thought about it. “Then there’s only one thing we can do.”

“Why do I have the feeling that A, I’m not going to like it, and B, I’m really not going to like it?” Nimbus deadpanned knowing that when Winter got drastic, she got really drastic.

“Neighvarro is in shambles, Thunderhead is not much better off after what happened with Lighthooves,” Winter said as she looked back at Nimbus. “The Enclave is divided, times have never been more uncertain. Coltlumbia needs to become a symbol of that future, once everything is settled in, perhaps it’s time to move the capitol here.”

“Bit on the crazy side, but considering everything’s current state -I mean, I have a cousin who’s pregnant in Thunderhead, and that place is falling to pieces!- it might just work. But how do you know everyone’s going to be ‘okay’ with this whole idea? You’ve got the old Hardliners like my uncle Howling Winds, and such. They would not be pleased with a entire movement like you’re proposing. Hell, heard Cloud Chaser wants to brand everypony not following his ideals as friggin’ Dashites!”

“It will require reorganization, Cloud Chaser and his ilk will be brought into line, as long as we make it look like we’re moving in, let’s say certain directions,” Winter said. “I’m thinking a council of Generals, parcel out territory to each of them to move in on while we fortify in the right areas. If we can get Reticle and Aries involved that’ll help, and I believe there’s a mare in the Judicial branch, Shimmering Skies, she is more, receptive of these ideals.”

“And of our favorite religious extremist, Stormy Skies? Personally, in the words of a old Neighponiese villain, and I must apologize for any inaccuracies in my speech here but I think he can: “Saa, jigoku o tanoshimina.” That’s what I think he can do, really. Go off and enjoy that.”

“It’s not going to be easy I’ll admit,” Winter said with a shake of her head. “But he will be dealt with in time. One advantage to Hardliners is that they’re not fond of religious fanatics for the most part, as long as we can keep them in line, we’ll have very little to worry about from Stormy Skies. Once the time is right and our goals, our true goals, are met, then the Hardliners will be dealt with and their position will be too weak to put up much of a fight.”

“Well, you’ve certainly thought this through,” Nimbus remarked. “I’d honestly say you’d probably make the Enclave a actual tolerable form of government if you tried. Of course, the common folk are like sheep, make one wrong move and upset the Hardliners too badly and they’ll flock to them.” he continued, before opening a flask of whiskey and drinking some of it and thanking Celestia that he had a store of it hidden away in Flankton. Chances are he’d need some of it in the future if Winter had her way. And she usually did.

“Then I will do something the Enclave has never done, I will listen to the voice of the people,” Winter said calmly.

“Vox populi…” Nimbus murmured to himself. “Yeah, sounds like something you’d follow.” he murmured as Winter continued on.

“We learned the hard way that they are not silenced here in Coltlumbia, so instead of silencing it, we must champion it. Bring them to our side in heart and mind and the Enclave will prosper.”

“...Geez,” Nimbus deadpanned. “Speak a little louder why don’t you, and get us both shot for treason by certain Hardliner supporters? I know they’re out there, somewhere amongst the crowd,” he commented, gesturing to the beachgoers and then looking to his holstered energy pistol. “Call me overly paranoid, but being paranoid keeps a buck alive. And aside from that, I do remember the news story a few weeks back about someone getting shot at a rally, with my uncle’s followers being suspected but the shooter was never found so nopony got implicated.”

“I’ll be careful,” Winter said with a soft smile. “Thank you for your concern Nimbus, but I believe that this is the right direction to go in. I will have to be careful, but when the time comes, we will become a shining light for Equestria, and someday we can truly make the Enclave, no the world a better place.”

“Wish I shared your optimism, but I’ve been around the block for far too long, seen too many good ponies either swallowed up by this place’s natural insanity, or silenced outright. So if that day comes, I’ll eat my hat, but for now, I think I’ll keep a gun to my side just in case.”

“Understandable,” Winter said with a nod. “But, we have to give it a chance. Or everything will just fall apart again, we have to give our children a future. A world that we can be proud of instead of one that’s falling apart.”

Nimbus smiled, -perhaps for the first time in a long while- and nodded.

BANG!

Nimbus was all too thankful he still kept a gun by his side as he heard a shot ring out from somewhere amongst the rocks, and took cover behind a nearby boulder going for his pistol as he did so.

“You see it?” he barked out. “You see where it came from?”

“Up there!” Gabby shouted, her keen griffon eyesight coming through once more. “On a ridgeline!”

Sure enough, where Gabby was pointing were a couple of ponies with rifles dressed in NCR Armor.

“Real nice friendly homecoming we’ve got, isn’t it?” Nimbus drawled, looking at Riptalon. “You attract all kinds of friends, don’t you?”

“Hello, wanted outlaw here!” Riptalon remarked as Target tossed him a Novasurge rifle, with Xenith shooting Riptalon a shocked look.

“Like you thought returning to the NCR would go any other way with you…?” Midnight sneered, Riptalon ignoring him.

“I thought you said Henri would take care of that?” Nimbus snapped in return as he ducked to avoid shots, bullets whizzing by his head, with Twilight throwing up a protective shield.

“Right, the word of one griffon,” Riptalon deadpanned. “How well do you think that’ll work out?”

“Thought she was all buddy-buddy with Regina!” Nimbus shouted back, severely repressing the urge to return fire by this point.

“Well, I didn’t say that. More like acquaintances, them,” Riptalon replied.

“...You have the oddest friends, you know that right?” Xenith observed, looking at Nimbus who could only nod in return.

“Believe me, I noticed,” he deadpanned, before letting out an angry shout of: “Oi, you trigger-happy plonkers with the rifles! Friendlies here!”

Obviously, Nimbus’ negotiation skills needed work, as clearly calling NCR scouts trigger-happy plonkers was not a good idea in the slightest, and he only earned a bullet that very nearly missed his head for his troubles.

“You’re an idiot,” Xenith observed once more.

“...And you only now just noticed this?” Riptalon deadpanned. “But said idiot’s right!” he shouted. “Look, we’ve got your gear, and Xenith Firestone with us! That alone should tell you we’re on your side!”

A shot from a rifle whizzed by his head, and a feminine voice answered: “Which you could have stolen, and in Xenith’s case could have kidnapped!”

“Okay, how about this then?” Riptalon asked. “We’ve got a child with us, so how about you stop shooting for a moment and think about that eh?”

“And now once again, you bring that child into your troubles. Yeah, real model parent here,” Midnight continued to drawl out. “Yep, real fine griffon I got myself killed over.”

Riptalon’s remarks did get through to the ponies, and instead of getting shot at by NCR Scouts, the Company promptly found themselves arrested and placed into hoofcuffs by NCR Scouts.

“...Can’t decide if this is better or worse.” Nimbus deadpanned. “The NCR isn’t in support of firing squads for traitors and their friends right?”

Riptalon’s silence said it all on the matter, and Nimbus then muttered: “...Yep, I’m going to die. Not via Stormy Skies’ horn, but via NCR firing squad. Wonderful, just bloody wonderful.”

Of course, before that could get anywhere near close to happening, the hoofcuffs were removed when both Regina and Henri walked up, giving the scouts a set of very quelling glares. Riptalon tossed Riptalon a smirk.

“See, what did I tell you?” he asked.

“...Oh, shut up ya numpty.” Nimbus growled out.

Junction Town

Riptalon wasn’t entirely surprised when whispered abound when he strolled into town, amongst a caravan of the oddest selection of ponies and a zebra imaginable. He caught a few of the whispers of course, some of them wondering what a traitor like him was doing back here, while others just sat in stunned disbelief that Riptalon, the one they’d been told to shoot on sight was in actuality a hero of sorts to the NCR’s operations.

“For the record, I think I liked it better when I was a wanted griffon, strolling the desert wastes of old Appleloosa really,” Riptalon muttered. “At least there, all you had to worry about were the wild animals and the raiders trying to rip you limb from limb. ...Granted, at some points, there’s probably very little difference between the two.”

“...And for the record, I think I’d have to agree with you on that,” Nimbus murmured as he watched ponies, griffons and other varying species point at his wings, even as he carried a sleeping Starglow atop his back. “I’m not a bloody sideshow attraction for ponies to come and gawk at. If I was, I’d be up in Hurricane’s Bay or the Wonderbolts Field back home.”

“...Something tells me I’d rather not know,” Riptalon muttered to him in reply.

“Oh, not so bad once you get past the fact that you’re in a whole city populated by Enclave Loyalists. Sorta a paradise really,” Nimbus lied. “After all, it created me didn’t it?” he continued, giving Riptalon a smirk

“...Right, and I’m supposed to view that as a good thing?” Riptalon asked, the massive ursagryph looking skywards seemingly pleading for some sort of deliverance from this hell. “Like you’re the best choice of friends, ya jerk.”

“Bitch,” Nimbus muttered in reply before finally having enough of ponies staring and pointing at him, he shouted out: “Hey, if you want to go stare and point at something, go look at that statue of Littlepip in the town’s center!” he roared, before muttering to himself in a quiet tone: “...More more worthy of being called a hero anyways than myself, the Morningstar, after all I’ve pulled.”

“Suppose you’re going to go hole yourself up in the nearest bar now aren’t you?” Jabari deadpanned, and everyone looked right at him. “What? Should you really be so surprised? Even if I’ve not been with y’all for that long, even I’ve noticed Nimbus’... tendencies.”

“Well fuck you too mate,” Nimbus muttered. “For the record, yeah, I was thinking about it, but probably going to regret it in the morning. Plus, far more interested in handing Starglow off to somepony who can take proper care of her, not put her in somebody’s firing line.”

“See, even Nimbus, the Enclave Soldier admits he’s a terrible father figure, unlike you!” Midnight whispered in Riptalon’s ear, with the whispers seemingly going ignored. For now, at least.

“Hand her off to me,” Henri volunteered even as two kids, one a zebra filly with her mane done up in a ponytail and another, a blue pegasus filly ran up to her and began excitedly jumping around at Henri’s return. Nimbus smiled a bit at the cute sight, before looking at the griffon who continued. “There’s this Kirin, nice old woman who I rescued from some raiders ravaging her Stable, who runs the local orphanage. She’ll keep an eye on Starglow and keep her safe, don’t you worry about a thing.”

She gestured for Twilight to come along as Nimbus hoofed off the girl to Henri, with the Alicorn Princess in disguise following as requested.

“So, what are you going to do with your newfound freedom?” Nimbus asked. “Spend a bit of time hustling ponies out of their caps?”

“I’d like to do that, but there’s something I gotta take care of first. Something rather important, and something that’s really rather none of your business,” Riptalon stated, before Nimbus could even open his mouth.

“...I wasn’t even going to ask!” Nimbus exclaimed, throwing a hoof up in the air. “...Alright, now I’m definitely going to go get a drink considering I feel sooooo wanted right about now.”

Sure enough, he made his way to the nearest saloon, and to his surprise found Stripped Gear and Flashfire sitting there, their weapons put to the side for the time being. As he entered with his two old comrades giving him a little wave, he overheard two mares commenting on someone, with his luck probably him.

“That stallion looks lost, don’t you know?” one asked, with her partner remarking in return this little nugget.

“Looks just fine to me.”

“Cornflower, you are a living walking scandal!”

Cornflower sighed and then muttered: “With my luck, all the good stallions like him are probably into the theatre…”

“Well, mon dieu, you’re certainly attracting a lot of attention aren’t you?” Flashfire observed momentarily taking a break from his coffee, as Nimbus pulled up a seat. He raised an eyebrow. It was a bar, and the stallion decided to drink just plain coffee. Ah well, just another thing to add to his book of weird-arse things he’d seen in the wastes this week.

“The good kind, or the bad kind?” Nimbus remarked dryly. “Because between all the pointing and the stares, starting to feel like I’m not really wanted here.”

“Well, considering what you are…” Stripped trailed off, before shutting up quickly as Nimbus gave him a glare.

“You haven’t told anyone about… ah, our little mutual friend’s secret have you?” Nimbus asked Flashfire, who shook his head knowing exactly what secret he was talking about.

“Not in the slightest, mon ami, not after what she did,” Flashfire stated. “If anyone finds out, it won’t be because of a small slip of the tongue from me. And… uh, about the stares,” he added kindly. “Just take it from me, someone who’s received his fair share of attention for his medical abilities, they will pass. They will pass. Soon, you’ll just be another face in the crowd.”

All three stallions winced when they heard Cornflower and her friend shouting at each other.

“You... you whore!” Cornflower screamed at her friend.

“I assure you, madam, my sexual interest in your dear husband is non-existent. Furthermore, the man is quite sterile.”

Stripped and Flashfire shared a shrug, and each went back to their respective drinks with Stripped muttering: “See some things haven’t changed at all.”

Nimbus just blinked, and stared at the two mares who were now at each other’s throats, and then at Flashfire and Stripped who were doing nothing at all to stop this.

“...Aren’t you going to break that up?” he asked.

“Not our job,” Flashfire informed with a casual shrug of the shoulders. “Besides, this is usual for them anyhow. The two argue about who’s having sex with each other’s husband every day or so whenever they get drunk enough. It’s made quite the sideshow for the rest of us really. Shame they have to break it up,” he remarked, gesturing to the Applejack’s Rangers who arrived about then and pulled the two mares away from each other.

“...You get all kinds…” Nimbus thought to himself and just welcomed the Wild Pegasus Whiskey when it finally came.

That evening, with a pair of newly reforged starmetal knives strapped to his hips courtesy of Xenith, Riptalon found himself at a tent outside of town. Close behind, Jabari was following out of simple honest to Celestia curiosity, the young zorse staying to the shadows to avoid being seen.

Riptalon, swearing he detected movement, whipped his head around behind him but saw nothing and shrugged. His eyes then wandered to a nearby hilltop, where he saw a familiar stormy gray pegasus lighting up a fire of sorts, and throwing objects into it including a familiar Lyra doll.

“Is he…?” Riptalon thought to himself as he watched Riptalon raise his rifle skywards in a salute of sorts before Riptalon sighed and began shaking his head. “Nah, he couldn’t be. Hates Midnight far too much right now to pay tribute to him.”

Something else darted between two barrels, and Riptalon’s head whipped itself away from Nimbus to face in that direction.

“Alright, now I know someone’s there…” he thought to himself before calling out: “Alright, whoever’s shadowing me, you can come on out. I’m not blind, I know you’re there!”

Jabari emerged, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly before asking: “That obvious, huh?” and Riptalon gave him a flat look. Jabari could only laugh nervously and say: “...Sorry?” in return.

“...Well, might as well come along,” Riptalon muttered, shaking his head. Kids, he thought to himself. “Might get some info on your heritage really,” he remarked, as he gestured to the tent ahead, with the small glow of a fire coming from inside. He’d suspected Jabari, despite his name, was descended from the settlers out west with the sheer accent he carried in his speech, and while he didn’t quite know how to educate him on the Zebrican side of his heritage, he could at least do this for him.

Inside the tent, on the other end of the warm crackling fire amongst a bunch of other ponies decorated in tribal paint was a very old, wrinkled unicorn clutching a staff of sorts. Long ago when places like Appleloosa were first settled by ponies, the buffalo and the settlers exchanged traditions, maybe even bred into each other a little bit and so a new breed of unicorn had been created, with their own traditions and beliefs.

“Okay, you must understand nothing of what you hear here,” Riptalon told Jabari sternly, in a completely strict tone. “Leaves this tent, are we clear?”

Jabari nodded silently, sitting himself down on the ground next to Riptalon. The old shaman, he turned to look at the ursagryph with weary eyes.

“It does this old horse’s heart good to see his young chick return to his nesting place,” the shaman spoke, and Riptalon looked away in shame knowing he hadn’t exactly followed the shaman’s wishes.

“Uh, a little bit of backstory here?” Jabari whispered, scratching his head in confusion.

“...Right, yes, sorry,” Riptalon admitted, his facial feathers flushing slightly in embarrassment. “This is Abooksigun, took me in back when I was just a young chick about twenty or so years ago. He’d spent his time living out in a stable with his tribe, and I was just stuck in that stable with the Overmare at the time, a unicorn named Aleshanee. Despite her name, wasn’t the most pleasant of mares. Didn’t exactly give a damn about me or just about anyone else for that matter, so Abooksigun took me in as his adoptive son, taught me a few things about his people’s traditions.”

“Hmm yes,” Abooksigun mused, stroking his beard with his hoof. “Young Riptalon, he was a wild sort in his youth. Though one can safely say that hasn’t changed much,” he chuckled to himself. “He just needed his inner beast… tamed. So what brings you and your young friend here?”

“...I think I’m being shadowed by a spirit,” Riptalon admitted. “Maybe it’s a Skinwalker, honestly not sure. Haven’t had time to perform the proper blessings yet, as I need to be sure of what I’m dealing with here. Could just be one very pissed off ghost. So, I came to you for answers, guidance.”

Riptalon then explained to Abooksigun what had exactly occurred on Mount Pleasant Island and what had occurred since then with Midnight’s spirit, After all explanations had been given, Abooksigun nodded before tossing some water on the fire, and gestured to two ponies who began creating a fire outside the tent while he himself began tossing various items into the pit in the tent’s center. Items like sweetgrass and tobacco while the firekeepers outside began chanting traditional blessings. Riptalon was handed a pipe, filled with a hallucinogen called peyote, and began smoking it as Abooksigun began to chant, asking the Gods to show them Midnight’s spirit. The temperatures inside the tent, they rapidly began to climb and Jabari had to pull out a bottle of water just to keep himself from getting heat stroke.

“Now, show yourself!” Abooksigun shouted as the steam began to fill the tent. “Tell us how we can properly lay your spirit to rest, Midnight Radiance!”

Riptalon didn’t quite know if it was the peyote talking as the hours passed and the evening turned to the thick of night, but at some point during this entire endeavor, he swore he saw the smoke began to swirl all around him and began forming a shape of sorts. It was ponyish in nature, and Riptalon let out a small murmur of “Midnight…?” with a small tear dripping from his eye.

What happened next, nobody in the lodge certainly could have expected really. A card, a tarot card to be exact was tossed out of the fire, depicting a pony with nine swords above his head.

“...What the fuck?” Riptalon whispered as he picked up the card in his claw and began studying it. He wasn’t exactly the world’s biggest expert on the major and minor arcana suffice it to say. Actually, to be honest he really didn’t know anyone in Junction Town who was to be perfectly honest.

Finally, the smoke and steam began to fade, the fire burning itself out in the chill of the midnight air.

“Well, that was an… experience,” Jabari remarked to nobody in particular and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow, as Riptalon studied the Tarot Card and pocketed it for later.

“So, I hope this gave you guidance on how to deal with your restless lover?” Abooksigun asked.

“Honestly…” Riptalon replied, taking a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I think I’ll start performing blessings on my house -if it hasn’t been demolished- just to be safe,” he noted before quickly muttering to himself: “That, and start figuring out a way to read up on the major and minor arcana.”

With that, he took his leave not saying another word, while Jabari bowed to Abooksigun and said: “Thank you sir, it was a pleasure and an honor to experience this.” with Abooksigun smiling.

As soon as Jabari left, he turned to look at Riptalon.

“You alright?” the young zorse asked.

“No kid, I’m not alright. Not alright at all…” he whispered.

Author's Note

Okay, I have several huge thank yous to give. First off, one to Eagle-Paladin of Shadows for teaching me about the Native American traditions for dealing with the spirit world, and to this site for information about sweats. God, I hope I did the traditions respectfully, and not made myself look like an idiot.

Next, another thank you to RuinQueen for teaching me about the Nine of Swords tarot and moreover, returning to write Madam Winter Breeze for her and Nimbus' pre-Survivor's Guilt conversation. She didn't have to return to write her, but she did and so a huge thank you for that one.

Anyways, as ever, comments, thoughts, and critique are welcomed here.

Part 28: Broken Wing Blues

Nimbus Breaker, Personal Memoirs
(Extracted from the archives by Calypso, daughter of former Enclave President Winter Breeze)

Okay, my thoughts I admit are conflicted. It’s been a rough ass last couple of months truth be told. Right fuckin’ pain up the jacksie. (Okay yes, I admit I still do celebrate Talk Like a Pirate Day, thank you Madam Winter for that!) ...Oh, by Celestia’s withers, where do I begin? Welp, suppose I should start from the very beginning. There are certain things I will omit for the time being, considering what others in the NCR would probably think of me if certain truths were to come to light, but for the most part, anyone who happens to read these memoirs will get the full frontal truth as it were.

Well, so I know who I am now. Nimbus Breaker, one of Stormy Skies’ right hoof ponies. What’s that old saying? Ah, oh yes. Now I remember. “She raises up your enemies with her right hoof and she smites you with her left.” Seems to be more and more prophetic every day, really at times.

Might have to resort to some guerrilla tactics soon next time I go into war -As if you could describe it as anything else- against Stormy Skies’ forces. Take for instance, Claw-Baiting. What you basically do with that is, find a Deathclaw and somehow lure it to your enemies and get the Hell out of the area before it mauls you. Then, you just clean up whatever mess is left over. Generally, the flaw in this plan, aside from having to tick off a Deathclaw, is dealing with a Deathclaw -More often than not, a Matriarch as they’re the easiest to piss off- once all is said and done with. Not a very fun prospect. I can see why Henri called Riptalon stupid whenever he suggested it. I’d call it bloody suicidal. Emphasis on bloody.

There’s warfare, and then there’s stupidity.

Lady Celestia above… Still can’t believe Stormy Skies was stupid enough to go off and align himself with the remnants of the Nightmare Society and get himself stocked up on enough IMP to go full-on Alicorn. Bloody crazy bastard. The day I shoot him in the head is the day my life will be complete.

-Addition by Calypso Breeze, a brief detailing information on the Nightmare Society and the mare known as the Firebrand-

Serenity’s notes: “Liar! This is hardly what I’d called brief!”

The Nightmare Society, that’s a particular Wasteland horror story most of us would rather forget. Me and my mother managed to trace some of their history going back centuries, and if you’ll excuse the pun it’s a real from nopony to nightmare story.

The best we can tell they originated as a small cult decades before the Great War, before Nightmare Moon even returned. They acted in secret under the direction of their High Priestesses and seemed to have had members as high up as the pre-war nobility. The cult worshiped Nightmare Moon as a Goddess, and was anticipating her return upon the Summer Solstice of the thousandth year where they believed they would become high ranking members of her new court.

I guess they didn’t expect Twilight Sparkle and her friends to defeat her like they did (extra note: For some additional irony I’ve found some evidence that Twilight may have traced her family line back to Luna herself, but that’s just speculation). And so with their Goddess defeated, they had to retreat back into hiding.

There’s not a lot of information about the Society between the defeat of Nightmare Moon and the Megaspell exchange at the end of the Great War. Most of it seems to have been lost or hidden away, but what we have found is troubling.

As evident by the files recovered from Stable 109 by the now deceased Lieutenant Bright Feather during what is referred to as the Mount Pleasant Island Incident, (Possibly the most ironic name for an Island if there ever was one I must add) the Society endured. It seems that a low-level Priestess named Penumbra managed to secure a position as the Overmare of the Stable along with other members of the cult, and turned it into their new Temple.

They slowly spread out of the Stable and met up with survivors of the Megaspell exchange in the nearby town of Lost Cove. Having a mixed relationship with them, the Society would often send missionaries to it and the other settlements on Mount Pleasant Island. However, it wasn’t until the crash of Enclave Vertibuck E419 that they truly posed any sort of threat.

Lieutenant Bright Feather was eventually successful in driving the Society away with the help of the locals, but not without great cost. In retrospect, perhaps if she hadn’t shown mercy towards the Society, so many lives wouldn’t have been ruined. I don’t mean that mercy is a bad thing, but hindsight is 20/20 as they say.

Given the nature of IMP exactly how the Society first found it is unknown. What is known is that once they had it they used it to begin a mass conversion, the true nightmare had begun. When they started to run out, they even found the refined IMP left behind by the Crimson Empire (see records on the NCR-Imperial War and Dr. Ruby Starlight for more).

But this is also where the Society made its gravest mistake, and as a result created its own greatest enemy. As they raided the settlement of Pearl they took a young Unicorn mare named Ember, and they made her a weapon, a brand they would light to lead their forces in victory against Equestria, a mare that would come to be known as Firelight, the Firebrand of the South.

But what they could never anticipate was that Firelight would by a twist of the fates, become separated from the Society. She made friends with some locals and began to question everything the Society had ever taught her. She was instrumental in the removal of the Society Puppet Mayor of Nightingale Iron and the disruption of the Society’s hijacking of the airwaves through the local DJ Vox Populi.

The fact of the matter is, the Society had opened a bottle, and let the most dangerous of genies out. As I later learned, Firelight had a fragment of Celestia’s power in her, one that when drawn upon would make her powerful, and dangerous.

At the same time thanks to one of Firelight’s companions, another IMP Alicorn named Moonlight who had been exposed to Star Metal to draw out her own fragment from Luna to make her more like Nightmare Moon, a schism began to form in the Society. With Alicorns jumping away, the High Priestess at the time began to spread north into unaffiliated settlements.

There are a lot of details that we could go into here, but the conflict with the Society finally came to a head with the Battle of Haythens and the fall of the Temple. Between the schism and a potion created by the Mendi Doctor Neivi that was able to neutralize the High Priestess as a threat.

Firelight survived the war with the Society and along with her friends have settled down and helped the southern jungle rebuild and formed an alliance that still stands to this day. She and Neivi live together in Nightingale these days with their adopted daughters, with the threat of the Society long gone the brand no longer has to be lit.

Now, of course, even with the troubles in the jungles dealt with, doesn’t mean the nightmare of the Society story had to end. Oh no, crap like that never does. Apparently, the remnants managed to hook up with a fellow pony who was on desperate times. One Mr. Stormy Skies, the leader of a certain religion-based sect of the Enclave. You know, the ones who will strike you down with the ‘Wraith of Celestia” and all that?

Yeah, them.

Desperation can make ponies do some strange and crazy things, and for the record, I have to say nothing’s crazier than teaming up with Stormy Skies, or Stormy Skies teaming up with the Nightmare Society. As I said, I guess hindsight is 20/20. We should have seen that one coming a mile away.

The Morningstar, or as most people who aren’t on his hit list know him better as Nimbus Breaker had every right to hate them, especially after what he learned they did to his family. Turned them inside out, in a way. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t crack under all the pressure the war with Stormy Skies’ sect put him under. I honestly wouldn’t blame him if he had. Hell, for all I know he did. It’s very telling he doesn’t say much about them or his war with them nowadays and all we know about the war with them comes from these journals or word of mouth. If you ask Nimbus, he closes up.

As Scootaloo once said to me: “The future holds infinite possibilities, that very moment your heart began to beat. Your destiny is set in motion, doesn’t mean you have to follow it. If fate’s lined up its path for you, just break the chains that hold you to it.” I know, possibly a bit poetic of her but I can see her point.

Nimbus, fate had a plan in mind for him, strings tying him down and did he let them control him like he was just a puppet? No, he broke those strings. Snapped them clean in two.

Nimbus once said on the people suffering on Stormy Skies’ tyranny and his possible fear of him: “My race: the pegasi you demonized and excommunicated, has fought and died through generations for this country. I do this thing... for Equestria, and her ponies, and her griffons, and her zebras and all her species. None of us pegasi have to know you all. And yet we do it anyway. And it's not the dying that frightens us; it's never having stood up and fought for you. I'm Nimbus Breaker. Of the Enclave, of the NCR, and of Equestria. And dying... has never frightened me. Stormy Skies, he can send his sick fucks at me and Equestria’s defenders however much he likes, but I will be there to meet them every time. No, that’s not right. We will be there to meet them every time.”

So, in the end, I’d say Stormy Skies met his worst nightmare if you forgive the poor joke.

-End of Addition-

Serenity’s notes: “You call that brief?”

Calypso’s notes: “Oh shut up.”

I guess me and Stormy are two birds of a kind, in a way. We both want to fight for our survival amongst the ranks, prove we’re worthy of calling Equustria home. His way however, it’s not the way of the Equine kind. No, it’s the way of a madman. Like the legendary Discord of old, he causes only destruction, chaos and disorder in his wake. He preaches order and serenity, but his actions are anything but of somepony looking for accord and harmony. If anything, and this would probably be high treason to some folks if they ever read this but I’d probably throw my lot in with Winter Breeze if worse comes to worst and allies aside from the NCR are needed to take Stormy down.

He’s a mad dog, and like all mad dogs, he must be… euthanized.

Honestly, and I know again this is probably bordering on high treason to certain higher-ups in the NCR but we may need to think of allying ourselves with Winter Breeze, maybe foster a peace treaty if only to finally bring this bloody age to an end. We need to evolve as a species, move past our old prejudices. Agh, sounds very new-age hippie of me I suppose, but truth be told it’s like a cycle at times. War, war never ends and it never seems to change. Maybe it’s high time it does that.

In the meantime, I must resign myself to the endless cycle of bloodshed and violence until a new, better way is found.

Ironically, to end this cycle new weapons must be developed. Ones to destroy Stormy’s madness at his very routes. I’ve handed off the plans we found at Starlight’s lab on Mount Pleasant Island off to that unicorn, Stripped Gear to see what he can do with them. Celestia knows, even as spread thin as Stormy’s forces are they’ve got powerful allies and powerful weaponry. His Dust Devils for example, armed with Gatling guns and if the rumors were true far more powerful explosive weapons. When it comes to fighting in the skies, the NCR is sadly very much outgunned.

Again, another reason why I say we should ally ourselves, if only out of convenience with Winter. She has the majority of anti-air capability, and quite a few Dust Devils, Vertibucks, and if the rumors are true her own personal powerhouse of a Cloudship called the Nightingale.

Celestia knows if we ever want to bring the Wastes to a truly lasting peace, we may need to start asking some hard choices, and then start making them even if we don’t have to like ‘em.

I’ve heard of what became of Arbu, after the massacre. Prison got built up on top of it, nowadays houses war criminals from the very first fight for freedom of the Wastes, including some family relations of the famous Deadshot Calamity. Still, I don’t know why I get compared to him by a few ponies but as the Prench used to say… C’est la vie I guess.

Few of them? Who knows, maybe they might start showing signs of changing their ways, probably a long shot but it’s worth thinking about. If there’s any threat to the Wasteland that warrants us bringing out a few old dogs like them, it’d be Stormy Skies and some of the Hardliners I know Winter’s just barely keeping at bay.

I know Stormy’s probably thinking the same thing as well, so I would suggest to the NCR that they make a move on this place, gain a few allies. I’d like to think that it’s quite easy enough to be friendly to one's friends. But to befriend the one who regards himself or herself as your enemy is the quintessence and real challenge of a battlefield. The other is mere business. A wise buck would get more use from his enemies than a fool from his friends I think.

And just in case things go sour, well I’ve got a plan for that as well. A new weapon. Named for an old piece of poetry about the infamous Thunderbird of Equestria’s southern jungles.

“Songbird, Songbird, see him fly,
drop the children from the sky.
When the young ones misbehave,
escorts children to their grave.
Never back-talk, never lie,
or he'll drop you from the sky!”

That’s how the poem goes. As for me, I have my own Songbird now, and it has a song of peace to sing.

From the personal logs of Riptalon Hawkwind
(Extracted from the archives by Serenity, adopted daughter of Stable-Tec Executive Scootaloo Dash)

Ugh, can someone just shoot me in the face right now? Honestly, all those stares from those ungrateful bastards in the NCR are starting to get on my nerves. Throw me out into combat with the fucking Enclave anyday, not deal with these bozos.

I can see why Gawd had a rough time integrating Talon Company in with the Wastelanders, difficult bunch to deal with. Hand them proof on a silver platter practically gift-wrapped for you, and they still won’t accept it.

Granted, Nimbus is saying the same thing about me and continuing disbelief of Midnight being a traitor and ratting us out to Stormy Skies so I suppose I have no room to talk really.

Bastard, complete and utter bastard. That’s what that pegasus is, even if I admit he is a really damn good shot. Saved our lives, and more importantly Starglow’s life (What, so sue me! I’m getting attached to the little filly!) a few times when we were coming here with those sharpshooter abilities of his.

Doesn’t even bother to use The Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell or S.A.T.S for shorthand over half the time if what I heard from Target is correct. So I will give him this, bastard or no he could really give Deadshot Calamity a run for his money in the aiming department. Maybe we should set up a firing range, just for fun Henri suggested, compare notes between those two and see who really is the better shot.

Didn’t know Nimbus was poetic though, as apparently he’s named his newly acquired rifle Songbird after some old piece of poetry originating from the jungles of Southern Equestria. Songbird, he calls it. Of all things! Sings the song of peace, he states. Beautiful instrument of destruction, I’ll give him that much. Gold trimmed, with a silver dragon on the side and a heck of a lot of oak wood detailing as well. A deadly weapon, from a far more civilized age I suppose.

But back to my current problem. Henri and Regina both put in good words for me, and the President of the NCR and Firebright’s words both go a long way here, but still doesn’t stop the citizens from distrusting me and my guns. It’s like they think I’ll turn Lawgiver on them on any given moment.

Can’t say I blame ‘em I suppose in the long run, as in hindsight I did make maybe too much of a show killing off those traitorous bilge rats back when I first started on my mission.

On a brighter note, Xenith (Lovely gal) says she’s trying to pull in a favor with the local weapons master, do some work on my knives. Get them reforged and made sharp enough to cut through Enclave Power Armor. Not sure how she’s going to do that, but… If she manages to pull it off I’ll owe her a favor. And I always repay those.

Always have, ever since my early days in the Talons. Actually, even before that really. If you’ll allow me to regale you with a tale?

Did I ever tell you how I was inducted into Gawd’s Talons? Welp, this was some odd twenty years ago when the Wasteland was even crappier than it is now, but saved Gawd’s life if you can believe it. I was just a young punk then, about fifteen or so just coming out of the stable. Give or take a few years, memory’s not as good as I’ve like it to be. Had just a few caps to my name, a six-gun strapped to my side and my lucky knife -Which I still carry to this day- called Hellhound’s Bane. Found Gawd and some of her talons including a very young Regina pinned down under Raider fire. Apparently, Gawd was taking Regina out for her first hunt, her first bounty collection. Guess they start ‘em off young in Talon company.

Anyways… Turns out the guy they were chasing after? Learned of Gawd coming to strike him down and hired a Hell of a lot of Raiders to protect them. Fuckton of ‘em really. Gawd had managed to take down a few, but she and Regina were pinned behind some rocks and ammo was getting rather low from what she told me. So, out of the goodness of my heart and I still don’t quite know why I did it even today, did what I did best. Made a show of things by first mimicking the call of a Deathclaw getting those Raiders spooked, before charging in the midst of all the chaos and began to start slitting throats.

Saving her daughter’s life like that? Not something Gawd took lightly, and when I got shot in the leg by a lucky Raider she went to town on him and ripped him apart with her bare claws. Afterwards, she said if a wanderer like me ever needed a place in life just come to her. Flash forward a few years, and needing quite a bit of money to pay back a nasty form of loan shark I gladly took her up on that offer and found myself amongst the ranks of the Talons. Just like that. Repaid my debt to that shark, and well, turns out the Talons aren’t happy if you harm one of their own and when they found out I was being hunted they took the ass out and allowed me my share of the spoils. Funny that, really. Guess Karma really is a bitch.

They always said mothers should never let their babies grow up to be cowgriffons, or in this case Talon Company members, but man oh man they should retract that rule. Best choice of my life I ever made. Got me quite a bit of caps on the side, and a rep for getting things done when needed. Plus, I became feared by anyone with any amount of sense. Made infiltrating the gangs of the Wastes that much easier after I went ‘rogue’. Nobody wants the Blackhawk after their ass it seems.

Now, how do I get Nimbus into bed with me? Yes yes, I know you may be thinking what the flying fuck mate? You hate his scrawny little ass! But in some aspects, I beg to differ. Not so scrawny really, in that form-fitting suit of his… hoo boy, man it looks tight! And I do mean tight! Just because I hate his guts, doesn’t mean I can’t admire him.

By Celestia’s Withers, I’d love to have some of that. Angry, rough sex. Put that asshole in his place, see if he can really handle me and want to boss me around after all that, the dick. And yes, that word choice was fully intentional.

-Addition by Serenity Dash, a brief detailing information on her thoughts on all of that-

Two words. EWWWW! and disgusting! I so didn’t need to find any thoughts on things like that in Riptalon’s logs! God, now I need some brain bleach to scrub that mental image out of my head. Celestia, I’ll never be able to look at either of them the same way again! If this ever gets chronicled into a book, leave those thoughts out of it please guys!

-End of Addition-

Oh just fuck me with a ten-foot pole, maybe he is right and I’m just lying and denying it to myself, that Midnight really was a traitor. The facts, if I stare at them logically do seem to add up. To repeat Nimbus’s own words on the subject no matter how much I hate to do so…

“Stormy’s very willing to ally himself with anyone, as long as it furthers his cause. So as much as I hate to admit it, Midnight’s a very good candidate for ratting us out. Twilight was never with us for all the time, so she didn’t know everything we were doing right up till we got in contact with her, she didn’t know we were coming to the island, and besides, given how much she hates the Enclave, and their ideals, and believes she failed Equestria and it’s populace, do you really think she’d ally herself with someone who would destroy everything the nation was once founded upon? A madman who takes Celestia’s beliefs of forgiveness and such, and twists them in such a way to suit his own madness and delusions?”

That’s what he said, and the writing’s on the wall. What’s that old phrase? The truth being a bitter pill to swallow? Damn, if Nimbus is right then this really is one bitter little pill. Goddess, I don’t know. I… I just need time to think about this honestly, that’s all I need. Time. In the end, that’ll judge us all and in the end, it’ll judge me and Midnight but for the time being until actual proof comes to life that he was a traitor I will consider him a hero who died honorably. That is all I will say on the matter.

Junction Town:

“You’re all kinds of stupid, you know that right?” Gabby asked as she observed Nimbus’ bent wing. Nimbus himself, he was laying on his back on a metal table with his wings being pointed upwards. His damaged wing, Flashfire observed, tt wasn’t broken beyond any sort of repair, but it was in fairly nasty shape and in a position no wing probably should have been in. “I swear, diving in after a unicorn you just met and barely knew in a combat zone! You didn’t even know how tough that armor the NCR gives out is, and if would save your life and break your fall!” Gabby continued to rant in the background.

“Hey, it was either that or letting Stripped go splat on the ground,” Nimbus remarked. “Never lose sight of any potential allies. Allies, like chickens and curses come home to roost in a way, if you believe that old pegasi saying.”

“Several kinds of damn fool, and then some…” Gabby muttered, before breaking out into a laugh. “Granted, this is from the griffon ghoul who traveled all around the post Day of Sunshine and Rainbows Wastes where radiated water was scarce as some sort of avenging angel protecting those in need.”

“Yeah, been meaning to ask you about that actually,” Nimbus remarked. “I mean, to find a good source of radiation these days, you’d have to go pretty bloody damn far out of your way. Like to Southern Equestria or something like that, and those uncharted places are pretty much the closest place we have to Hell on Equus here.”

“...What, like the rest of Equestria isn’t Hell on Equus?” Gabby seemingly joked, but Nimbus knew better. She was deflecting, trying to get the line of conversation flowing to a different topic. He’d done it often enough, for Celestia’s sakes so he knew when and how to recognize it. Nimbus would be having none of that particular line of utter bullshite on his watch.

“True, but still… Really, where are you getting your Rads?” Nimbus asked, or rather pressed. Gabby was one of those in his party that was a mystery to him, not really talking that much about herself. She was an enigma to him, he aimed to change that. Nimbus didn’t like not knowing things. Especially important things. “And I have to ask, you’re always so cheery. Kinda a hard attitude to maintain this great whacking pile of shite we happen to live in. How do you manage it?”

“You mind shutting up, while I put this wing of yours back into place?” Gabby grunted out before handing Nimbus a bottle of medicine. “Drink this, help dull the pain. Or not, your choice.” She’d studied basic field medicine. She’d had to, just in case she ever had to patch herself up. She may have been undead, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be damaged.

“Still deflecting, and I won’t drink that. I want to be awake, just so I can talk to you.” Nimbus remarked.

“Fine, your choice. It’ll hurt like hell though.” Gabby returned.

“Been hurting like hell ever since I crashed and burned,” Nimbus replied simply, as Gabby began pulling the damaged wing straight with Flashfire holding another part of it down. “I’ve been tortured, I think I can stand this for a little while longer.”

“You’re all kinds of fools and then some, you know that?” Gabby deadpanned.

“You’re not the first to tell me that,” Nimbus snarked even as he grunted out in pain as Gabby began forcing his wing back into place, perhaps with a bit more effort than was necessary. “And I doubt you’ll be the last.” His wing, it would probably have been dealt with a long time ago, but nobody had ever really gotten the chance to do so between all the running and gunning since they’d left Fillydelphia’s factory.

Gabby groaned, Nimbus was a stubborn bastard and probably wouldn’t budge on his stance no matter what you do. He was like a brick wall in some ways. Just as unmoving and unwavering. You’d have to knock down his ideals completely for them to change even in the slightest. Depending on the situation, this was either a good thing or a bad thing. For the Wastelands, it was a good thing as he was dead-set on putting down the rabid dog known as Stormy Skies. For her, it was a bad thing as he would keep on pressing her till he found out the truth. Best she gave him at least some of it, to appease him for the time being really. Plus, she supposed having someone to talk to about these things, and get them off her chest would be therapeutic for her in the end. At least that’s what some of the ponies and other critters back in that town devoted to that wolf stated. Crow, that little bugger, he was a particularly stubborn proponent of this.

“...I kill. I don’t want to, but I kill,” Gabby whispered. “Oh, suppose it wouldn’t be so bad I guess given you have to kill to survive out here but when it’s against your fellow Ghoulkind who are dropping by the day anyways given the aforementioned lack of reliable radiation…”

She let out an almost feral screech, unnerving Nimbus even as Gabby swung out her front forearm and smashed a bunch of medical supplies, the contents inside dripping to the floor and glass flying everywhere with some of it cutting into Nimbus’s skin drawing blood.

“Gabby…” Nimbus whispered, dropping his emotionless mask for just a moment.

“I’m committing genocide against our own kind! Ghoulkind! In a way, that makes me no different than Stormy Skies, who just wants to kill all but those who don’t follow his beliefs of pegasi superiority! Tell me Nimbus, how does that make you feel, working with someone who’s not so different from your own arch-enemy!?!” Gabby shouted, tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t noticed the drawn blood, or if she did she was too caught up in her own emotions to even care.

“Actually, it does,” Nimbus stated. “Stormy, he doesn’t give a flying fuck as to what he kills, all in the name of his bloody religion and whatever God it stands for -Cause I doubt Celestia would approve- as he’s gone off the deep end and into just over-the-top new lands of just plain snake-fuckingly crazy!” he stated, complete with hoof gestures. “You, you haven’t. You’re simply killing to survive, just like the rest of us.”

“Not the way I would have put it,” Flashfire remarked. “Might probably have been with more delicacy and less crassness but can’t deny he’s got a point.”

“Yeah, tell that to the ghouls I beheaded or ripped to ribbons…” Gabby murmured to herself, fighting back tears. “You know, a while back I was in Southern Equestria, deep in the jungles…” she began.

Gabby was not a happy griffon. Far from it. “Welcome to the Jungle, we have fun and games!” that radio broadcast had stated. She laughed in disgust. It was hot, muggy, raining and the undergrowth and the very treetops were filled with every sort of thing imaginable that wanted to kill you.

Honestly, she was so far from home or anything that could even be remotely called a home of any sort because of one simple singular reason. Or one simple singular pony, to be exact. The Lightbringer, the Toaster Repairpony, the Hellmare. Littlepip. After she’d broken the Enclave’s cloud cover over the world, and started to control the weather she’d also brought good clean water to most of Equestria. And for ghouls like Gabby, that presented a problem.

Sure, there was the occasional presence of stuff like Aqua Cura that showed up every now and then with unicorns using some of their magic to infuse water with artificial radiation but it wasn’t exactly a popular aspect amongst many as radiation ruined Equestria and not a lot of creatures were keen on having more of that stuff out there.

Gabby remembered a quote from Littlepip, having read it in that book of hers. “I would fight to make that bright and innocent past our future once again. Even if it means dashing myself against the evil and cruelty of this wasteland until there is nothing left of me. And then, when I am too broken to go on, I will float my dying body right down the throat of the darkness and make it choke on me.”

What a damn hypocrite, Gabby thought to herself. She only fought for the future of ponies, not thinking about the repercussions and what effects using the S.P.P would have on everyone else.

So, in the end, what was the lesson and what was the takeaway? Don’t follow the Lightbringer’s teachings, it would only wind up getting you killed in the end. Steelhooves could attest to that.

Some may have had differing opinions, and some may have called Gabby a bitch her friend Scootaloo included but frankly Gabby didn’t give a damn about what others thought at about this particular moment. Slowly trudging through the thick undergrowth, hacking and whacking her way through the vines and foliage that presented themselves in front of her, she sighed in relief when she finally stumbled across a pool of water that was literally glowing with radiation.

It was a small pool, almost tiny in fact but it was like an oasis in the deserts of Saddle Arabia to her at that very moment.

Trouble was, she wasn’t the only ‘camel’ to have stumbled across such an oasis. Other ghouls, looking just as desperate as her by the gleam in their eyes were stumbling out of the woodland.

Gabby’s claws sharpened, she knew she would have to fight for her life, and for this little pool. That pool, in this very moment, was her life in fact. Gabby, letting out a shriek charged her claws bared and slammed into the first of the three enemy ghouls tackling him to the ground, before she raised her claw and struck slashing open the ghoul’s face in an ugly gory mess with an eyeball even hitting her in the face.

Her wings bared, she let out a hiss like some sort of monstrous cat daring the other two to come closer and suffer the same fate as their fellow. Seemingly driven into a vengeance-filled fury for the loss of their fellow, the two others did.

Gabby slammed one up against a tree, choking the ghoul on its windpipe her claws digging into its throat like serrated blades. She then tossed the nearly beheaded ghoul aside, the body slumping into the mud below with a rather unceremonious squelching sound.

The final ghoul was now horrifically afraid of this creature in front of her, this monster slaughtering her kind like it was nothing to her. This creature in a feral fury, giving into her base instincts in a desperate fight for control and for survival.

And so, it seemed to one Silver Spoon, so must she. She’d ventured this far from her homelands in search of a source of irradiated water because she simply didn’t trust a lot of unicorns not to have poisoned their so-called Aqua Cura with pure water just out of sheer bigotry.

She threw a powerful punch to Gabby, neither of the two old friends recognizing the other in their mad fury and lust for life as they brawled, rolling around in the mud and beating each other savagely.

Gabby, she eventually got the upper hand and began punching Silver Spoon over and over in the stomach in a haze, until she heard a voice cry out.

“G-Gabby, stop!” Silver choked out. “P-Please, this isn’t you!”

Gabby’s eyes widened in horror as she took in the appearance of the ghoul she had been so savagely beating to death. All for just a simple source of water.

Her claws retracted, and she pulled herself up off of Silver, and she looked at herself, then at the pool, and then at the ghouls she’d slaughtered. They’d been like her, just searching for that faint hope and just like a candle she’d snuffed it out for them.

“Go… Just go,” Gabby stated. “Drink. You’ve earned as much. Me… I think I’ll just find my water elsewhere. I don’t deserve this oasis. Not after… Not after this.” she choked out, and began to walk off before nets were thrown over their heads.

“Hey Red Hot,” a male voice shouted. “Look at what we found! Should fetch us a nice price indeed…” a stallion said, with a lustful gleam in his eye as he looked at Silver. “Oh, when we get back to Appleloosa you and I are going to have some fun indeed…”

Back in the present day, Gabby was looking at her claws now as if they were stained with blood. Nimbus’ eyes had widened in recognition and remembrance. Red Hot, he knew that name.

“Honestly, there’s this one ghoul here that keeps creeping me out. Used to be a griffon, from the looks of it. Very young one too. Been giving me the evil eye ever since we found her… Honestly, I’ll sleep better once she’s out of our hooves.”

“I’m starting to share that brick brain Red Hot’s opinion on the matter. That griffon… Gives me the creeps. Just the way she stares at you… Those hollow eyes. Can never tell what she’s thinking exactly. Least we don’t have to feed her. I’m not getting any closer to that cage than I have to.” The voice commented. “Celestia above… Least that other mare her age, the one with the spoon on her flank, is much better. Sure, she doesn’t speak much but at least we’re the cause of that. So glad we… broke her.”

Nimbus let out a growl. He wasn’t sure who it was directed to, Gabby for her cold-blooded murder of those ghouls or Red Hot and his compatriot for raping Silver. Flashfire on the other hoof, he was whispering “Oh Celestia…” and crossing herself as he thought about Gabby’s story.

Gabby whirled to face them. “Don’t you see now? Don’t you see? I’m just a murderer, no better than them. On the edge of going full feral. Someday soon, I’ll want to kill, and kill and just never stop.”

“I promise you Gabrielle Gruff,” Nimbus stated as he placed a hoof on her shoulder making Gabby’s eyes widen at the usage of her full name. “I will not let that happen. I will keep you from going feral, I will keep you on the right path.”

A pistol was shoved into his hooves. “Found this at the armory,” Gabby stated. “Uses 12.7×40mm ammo. Supposed to blow holes in Enclave Power Armor. If you ever fail to keep me on the right path as you so state, use it to blow a hole in my head. Kill me, before I do the same to you.”

With that, only silence filled the room before it was soon replaced with the sound of Gabby’s retreating pawsteps.

“Bon Dieu, vous semblez vous trouver toujours dans l'épaisseur de celui-ci ne vous?” Flashfire asked, and Nimbus only nodded in reply.

“You know,” Xenith told Jabari as she and the young zorse walked into Junction Town’s armory, where the town’s sole blacksmith worked. “Probably with the right amount of scientific knowledge, I could probably do you a favor and get that sword of yours reforged.”

“N-No thanks, it’s a family heirloom,” Jabari stated nervously, still unsure of how to act around other ponies. “I’d… I’d rather keep it as it is. B-Besides, it’s done me pretty well so far I think…” he remarked, drawing the blade from it's sheath and letting it crackle with electricity.

In the background, the radio played, keeping everyone up to date with the latest news. It was a minor comfort, that even with the war waging that DJ Pon3 would always be there and it seemed always giving them something to hold onto. That faintest bit of hope, no matter how dim, she always managed to find that light in the darkness.

"This is DJ Pon3 coming at you with another news report. It seems that the Enclave has once again been driven back, this time from the city of Horseton that they had laid siege to for the last few days. It seems that once again our good friend the Wanderer had a hoof in this as she was last reported leaving the old Horseton Knights Hoofball Stadium. Glad to see it didn't fall to the Enclave, as my assistant will tell you, there's a lot of bad memories in that city. Now let’s get back to the music."

The next song was rather depressing, at least to Jabari and he sighed while Xenith gave out a shudder at the singing voice and quickly turned off the radio. She’d heard that voice before, and it never bode good intent for anyone.

“I get the feeling you’re not comfortable around other ponies, are you?” Xenith asked, as in the background metal hammers clanged and steam hissed from the forges.

“Y-Yeah, no I’m no. Didn’t really grow up in a pony town. Sure, there were a lot of other creatures like these giant rat things, and walking anthro wolves but ponies were a rare sight and to be quite frank rather distrusted. Oh, some of them, the residents of my hometown -I-It’s this little slice of suburbia just outside of Manehatten you see- had this inherent distrust for ponies, blaming them for screwing up the Wasteland. I… I suppose some of those beliefs may have been passed down to me, I questioned everything about ponykind. Whether they were worth interacting with, and that sorta thing.”

“Well, I suppose in some regards they’re not that far from the truth I admit. Your hometown I mean,” Xenith remarked. “Could have talked to Zebra kind just that little bit more, tried to make them understand that Luna wasn’t some demoness from the stars and anything relating to her wasn’t worth killing over. You know what I found once? A rock, a rock from the stars,”

“Yeah, that meteorite or whatever it was.”

“Those demons from the stars we all feared,” Xenith remarked, her facial expression cold and her tone one of tranquil fury. “They’re just rocks in the end, just rocks! I swear, to hay with those beliefs! We all lost in the end of the war. Equestria, the griffon lands, the Zebra’s homelands, the dragon’s kingdoms. Each and every one of us lost the war due to our own inherent distrust and stupidity.”

“I… I kinda get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something here,” Jabari stuttered out, nervously rubbing the ground beneath him with a hoof.

“Yeah, maybe I am in a way I suppose. My point is, trust? That’s what won us Equestria back. Distrust and old grudges, they’ll only lead to devastation and death in the end. Knowledge is power is the old saying, is it not? The more we understand one another, the less likely we are to repeat this sorta vicious cycle.” Xenith told him.

“Zebra’s got a point,” Stripped Gear remarked from somewhere nearby as he went over the plans he’d been given by Riptalon. The plans the griffon and company had found in Starlight’s lab on Mount Pleasant Island. “The discovery of truth is prevented more effectively, not by the false appearance things present and which mislead into error, not directly by weakness of the reasoning powers, but by preconceived opinion, by prejudice,” he stated before chuckling. “Ironic really, it was a zebra who made that quote in the first place! Oh, if they only knew… They’d be up in arms!” Stripped laughed to mostly himself, and Xenith raised an eyebrow. Something about the way he worded that, it was like he didn’t see himself as part of ponykind. Maybe she was being ridiculous, maybe she was being paranoid.

Xenith smirked. “And yet ponykind or at least one pony in particular adopted this as one of their own favorite sayings back in the Golden Age. Guy went by the name of Chancellor Neighsay. Started out as a bigot from what I heard, hated anything that wasn’t a pony. Griffon, zebra, changeling… You name it. In the end, it took a group of six -only one of which was an actual pony- to save Equestria from disaster. Here’s another Zebra quote for you Stripped. One you’ll probably recognize, as it was adopted by Princess Celestia herself. Want to hear it?” she asked, looking towards Stripped and then towards Jabari who both nodded. Xenith then spoke. “Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”

“Maretin King Jr…” Jabari whispered, before repeating a quote from that exact same zebra. “Violence as a way of achieving racial justice is both impractical and immoral. I am not unmindful of the fact that violence often brings about momentary results. Nations have frequently won their independence in battle. But in spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace.” Tiria, she always liked that one. Now, if only other ponies like the Enclave would listen.” he murmured.

“Wise mare,” Xenith complimented.

“Wolf actually,” Jabari corrected with a trace of sadness and longing in his tone. “But yeah… Very wise.”

“Heh, supposed to be forging a new weapon of war against the Enclave. Stormy Skies’ Enclave to be more precise as I share the idea that if we could come to an understanding, war between us and Winter’s sect could be avoided. But here I am, philosophizing with you two!” Stripped Gear chuckled. In the corner of his eye, and although he wouldn’t mention this till much later he swore he saw a skeletal thin pony in a black hat and duster watching him seemingly in approval before vanishing into the shadows. He would later receive a card, a tarot card to be more accurate. The Three of Wands, facing in a upright manner.

“Dare I ask what you’re cooking up?” Xenith asked as she pulled two glowing hot knives out of the forges. They glittered with some unknown metal. No, it wasn’t unknown Jabari corrected himself. He’d seen it before. Starmetal, the same type of metal Xenith’s own knife was made out of it.

Jabari watched as she set the twin combat knives aside before another stallion picked them up and nodded as he was told to hand them off to Riptalon.

“Here, I’ll tell you what your new friends found on Mount Pleasant. What they told me, actually,” Stripped replied before breaking out into a remarkable impression of Riptalon’s voice. It was rather frightening really, the accuracy and the degree to which he could imitate it. “Weapons plans, far more intriguing. Ideas for things like a Plasma Caster. Supposed to fire hot bolts of magic to targets, and bind these bolts before they detonate. Sounded pretty nasty, but wait! There’s more! The bolts were supposed to bounce off other surfaces as well, but it seemed Starlight could never quite get the idea working. Kinda of a shame in the end, sounds like something I’d want to try on those Enclave bastards. There were a few mentions here and there of a few trial runs in the terminals, but they always ended… explosively and not in the way Starlight intended suffice it to say.” That’s what he told me, anyways.” Stripped admitted with a shrug.

“Right… And you expect to succeed where a genius of a mare failed?” Jabari asked, an eyebrow raised and more than a hint of skepticism in his tone.

“Genius in magic, but not a genius in weapon making. That’s something else entirely,” Stripped corrected, booping Jabari on the nose making him emit a small little sneeze. “Now me, I just so happen to be Junction Town’s resident expert on building and crafting custom weapons from scratch. That’s my title amongst the Wastelanders. The Builder.” he said with no small amount of pride. Perhaps well earned, perhaps not.

“...Or the madman. Being a great genius and being insane sometimes go hoof and hoof…” Xenith muttered to herself, and if Stripped heard her he paid her no mind.

“Now, shoo! Shoo, both of you! I need peace and quiet to work here! This isn’t something I can work over by you two yammering on about philosophy!”

Neither zebra bothered to tell the pony he himself had been just doing the exact same thing a few minutes before.

“So, Manehatten’s suburbs huh?” Xenith asked as the two exited. “Aren’t you worried about any sort of… attack?”

“Yeah, I am. There’s a reason I agreed with Regina and Calamity when they entered my home. That town of mine, it needs to do something. Because Manehatten, or should I say Tenpony Tower and Celestia One are prime candidates for either side of the Enclave to take over and use as a base of operations. They could hold the whole of Equestria hostage if they did so.”

“Well, from zebra to zorse,” Xenith stated. “If that ever happens, I’ll be there to back you up in your battle. That I promise.”

“T-Thank you,” Jabari whispered gratefully. “L-Let’s just hope it never happens okay?”

In any case, a few days went by with life going as normal. All seemed quiet in Junction Town, neither Enclave faction making any movements. Normally, for one Nimbus Breaker and Henrietta Firebright this would have been a relief, but all was too quiet. And then there was another thing. DJ Pon3, he’d gone dark. Something was wrong, and they all knew it. Nobody just dared to voice it aloud.

Currently, Nimbus was at his natural habitat, aka the local tavern with a glass of Wild Pegasus Whiskey in his hoof. Henri was beside him, just drinking a glass of water.

“...Okay, you’re at a bar and yet you choose a glass of water as your preferred poison. Seems counterintuitive if you ask me. You’re at a bar, you’re supposed to get drunk.”

“I value my liver,” Henri replied. “Besides, the last time I got drunk at some bar somewhere, I ended up having sex with Blackjack herself of all ponies.”

“...Wow, Just wow,” Nimbus stated. “Not sure if I should berate you, or congratulate you for being an idiot.”

“Aren’t those pretty much the same thing?” Henri deadpanned, with an eyebrow raised.

“Not to me,” Nimbus shrugged.

“How’s your wing?” Henri asked in concern.

“I’m the one who really should be asking the questions here, but I’ll let you have that one I guess,” Nimbus replied with his wing in a cast set to come off soon, and now outfitted with new body armor. It was similar to the type he picked up in Neigh Orleans but made of much thicker fabric. When he was given it, he was specifically asked word for word to try not to ruin this one. There were only so many of these suits to go around after all. It’ll be fine, give it another night and I’ll be up and flying again in no time. Now a question for a question, a pound for a pound. Why’d you leave us after the whole rogue NCR ponies cooking up pot incident? Would have been great to have you during the whole Pinkie-AI fiasco really…”

Henri turned, and gestured out into the streets where she saw Flood Waters and Nzuri playing a game of kickball with another filly, a yellow pegasus with a dark red mane sorta making her resemble a younger version of the Stable-Tec executive Apple Bloom.

“That’s why,” Henri stated. “I know it sounds sappy, but the children of Equestria? They’re my rock, they’re what reminds me to stay true to myself. To never lose my values in the madness and chaos of it all. A filly, she ended up changing me for the better, kept me from becoming just another merc who’d die on a mission.”

“Puppysmiles, yes. I’ve heard the stories coming out of the 52,” Nimbus admitted. “I mean to pay her grave a visit really, one day. I sorta respect her in a way, a filly braving everything Equestria has to offer just in search of her mother. Reminds me of myself in a way, I’m just trying to find my brother… wherever the hell he is.”

Henri smiled. “Just like Scootaloo. I met her once, you know that right? During my travels here after leaving you guys.”

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Henry remarked dryly as she observed the mare known as Scootaloo observing her curiously.

“Sorry, I just was curious is all,” Scootaloo remarked. “You're not exactly what I expected out of a Ranger.”

“We come in all shapes and sizes Scootaloo,” Henry said with a shake of her head. “I can't say I was expecting to run into you though.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Scootaloo replied, in this sorta deadpan tone.

“So let me guess, you went on a journey to look for your family or something didn't you?”

“Yeah, how'd you know?" Scootaloo asked, blinking a little in surprise. To be fair, that was a strangely specific guess.

“About 10 years back I traveled with another survivor, a filly who was looking for her mother,” Henry said with a sigh. “It, didn't end well for her, she was a good kid... usually.”

“I'm sorry, what was her name?” Scootaloo inquired of Henri curiously.

“Puppysmiles Days, I know, strange name even for you ponies," Henry said with a shrug which made Scootaloo’s eyes go wide. “What, did you know her?”

“Yeah, I met her while her mom was working for Stable-Tec,” Scootaloo said in reply, Apparently, she was beyond astounded that the rather hyperactive little filly she’d once known had survived the apocalypse and clearly left an impression on her griffon escort. “Cute kid but she never could get my name right, kept calling me Scootie or something like that.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Puppysmiles alright, she kept calling me a chicken.” Henry said and the two shared a hearty laugh.

“Huh, the Mare in Black herself. The sole survivor of Equestria’s old days, and you meeting up with her, amongst other legends. Gotta be a really small world.” Nimbus remarked.

“You seem different, you know that right?” Henri observed. “Normally you’d be snarking your ass off at me by now. Right now though, you seem almost respectful. What happened to you?” she asked in a tone of motherly concern. Never mind the fact that Nimbus was older than she was.

“It’s… It’s private,” Nimbus replied, his eyes drifting to the pistol in its holster. The one Gabby had asked him to use to put her down if needed. “And to be honest, I’d like to keep it that way. See, here you are asking the questions again. I’m supposed to be the one doing that.”

“And I’ll keep asking questions. Okay, I’ll let you have your privacy as everyone’s entitled to a little bit of that and if you ever want to talk about it I’ll let you do it on your own time. But I think it’s time we talk about the elephant in the room.”

“Such as?” Nimbus asked.

“Midnight Radiance. Traitor or no, you have to admit you and Riptalon owe your lives to him. He bought you some time so you could take down that anti-air gun. Maybe he did rat you out to Stormy Skies, maybe he didn’t. But in the end, I’d say he made repentance. I think you owe him that much, to at least give him some sort of honors.” Henri told him firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“I… I suppose you’re right. I do owe him that much. Lived fast, and he died young. Far too young, really,” Nimbus stated. “Had a great and shining future in front of him, and however diluted his path may have been… he deserved better. Tonight, that’s when I’ll do it. I’ll gather his personal effects, and burn them. Let them become ashes in the wind.”

“You sure you’re up for this? Burying a comrade or a friend, it’s never an easy thing to do. Letting them go,” Henri said, speaking from experience. “If… If you need the support, I’ll gladly-

“He was neither,” Nimbus stated emotionlessly, although anyone with even a hint of a brain could tell he was lying. “He was just someone I knew. So no, I don’t need any of your damn support.”

He thought to himself: “It is far easier to accept a little lie than objective fact, no matter how much it stares you in the face.”

“Stubborn as a mule, this one…” Henri thought to herself. She was going to have none of it. “No, I’m going. Lie to yourself all you want, but you’re just as broken up as any of us about his death. Tonight, I’m coming with you.”

And so she did. That night, as the sun set and a fire was built Henri stood in the shadows as Nimbus began to recite an old pegasi funeral prayer as he tossed Midnight’s personal effects into the blaze one by one. The Lyra doll went first, then a couple of enchanted shurikens. Other items were soon to follow.

“Ná seasann mo uaigh agus caith
Níl mé ann.
Ní codlaim.
“Tá mé míle gaoithe a buille.

“Tá mé an glints diamanta ar sneachta.
Is é solas na gréine ar gráin shástaithe.
Is mise báisteach an fhómhair.
Nuair a dhúisíonn tú i gcathair na maidine,

“Is é an rush atá ag éirí suas go tapa
Éin ciúin in eitilt ciorcail.
Is mise na réaltaí boga a shineann ar an oíche.
Ná seas ar mo uaigh agus caoin;
Níl mé ann.
Ní raibh mé bás.”

And with that, Nimbus saluted and stated: “Sleep well, young buck.”

A few days later, the party was gathered around a radio listening to some music when it crackled with static and a very familiar voice began to come through.

“Hello Equestria, this is your President speaking to you from Tenpony Tower in the ruins of Manehattan,” Winter Breeze's voice sounded over the radio after a minute. “The Tower and the entire city of Manehattan is now under the control of the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Now I'm sure you're all wondering what has happened to DJ Pon3, the stallion whose voice has broadcast over the Wasteland for the past 211 years,” Winter Breeze continued. “I can assure you that the good DJ is still alive and well in our custody, but I think it’s time we break the charade that they have been playing for the past two centuries.”

Riptalon and Nimbus shared a look, what the Hell could she be up to? Then Nimbus’ eyes widened in horror and recognition and he let out a mutter of: “Oh no…”

Even as he did this, he thought once more to himself: “It is far easier to accept a little lie than objective fact, no matter how much it stares you in the face.”

“You see my dear Equestria, the pony that is willing to, in his words, tell the truth no matter how hard it hurts has been lying to you this whole time,” Winter continued and ponies around the two began to whisper, wondering what she exactly meant by that. “DJ Pon3 is a lie Equestria, he's been lying to you since he first started broadcasting. The pony you've known as DJ Pon3 for the past few years is a Zebra by the name of Xiraia, and before that, it was the Unicorn Homage, ironically the Element of Honesty. The Enclave will not stand for such deceptions in the future Equestria. We will continue to fight for you Equestria, for the future of our world. This is President Winter Breeze, signing off.”

Author's Note

Okay... Whew boy. Talk about a whopper. First off, massive thanks to Ruinqueen for several things. One, for letting me use the lines of dialogue from Survivor's Guilt here, and two for writing a good portion of Calypso's notes.

Secondly, going to try and make this 10,000-word chapter my new average. I noticed during a re-read of Survivor's Guilt it took Ruinqueen 100,000 words to reach the Battle of Manehatten and yet here I am at 140,000 words and yet that hasn't happened yet. Granted, this story isn't about Nimbus and co following Scootaloo around on her every adventure, as they've got their own problems to deal with but considering how long it was taking me to reach major events that affect everyone in the SH storyline I think it was time I upped my word count for each chapter.

Now, wanted to give Gabby some character as she's always sorta just been... well, just there since she was introduced, so I devoted a section of the chapter to her really. Delved into her thoughts, and some of her personality. Might make her seem like a bitch, but at least she's no longer that dull really. Now, if only I could say the same for Starglow. Still at a loss as to what to do with her. Might drop her from the story entirely except for minor cameos here and there.

Finally, Nimbus's poem in English.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.
I did not die. -Mary Frye

As ever, thoughts and feedback on what I'm doing are welcomed.

Part 29: Sun Goes Up

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Part 30: Manehatten: Day 1

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Part 31: Manehatten Day 2

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Part 32: Manehatten: Day 4

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Part 33: On Top of the Heap

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Part 34: Hunter's Moon

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Part 35: Waxing Moon

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Part 36: New Moon

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Prologue: The Griffon in the Wastes

The Wastes:

“And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder:
One of the four beasts saying: “Come and see.”
And I saw.
And behold, a white horse.” said the aged and weary-sounding voice crackling from the foreleg worn device known simply as the Pipbuck. It was a useful little tool, able to pick up on local radio stations, detect Megaspell related radiation when present, and perhaps most importantly, help you stay alive. One thing the Pipbuck was able to do, perhaps something everybody took for granted was a simple thing imputed by the controversial (And that was perhaps putting it mildly nowadays) organization known as Stable-Tec.

That feature, simply put was that the Pipbuck was able to discern the weak points of the various hostiles its wearer may encounter on their trip through the nightmarish Equestrian Wasteland. Sadly, for most, the trip was often a short one. It took a special kind of character just to survive a walk through the hellish landscape. Most didn’t have that kind of character.

Riptalon Hawkwind would have been one of those who might have been chewed up and spit out by any one of the nightmare-borne monstrosities that inhabited the wastes if not for one thing. It was a small, simple thing really. He had a very keen ear and knowing when to stay out of trouble and when to get involved. He was an opportunist at heart, always jumping from one organization to the next, never really getting involved in things that he didn’t deem important (which was quite a lot of things really) and never staying too long in one place. He considered it safer for his health. After all, in his mind anyways, if you never got involved in a cause you had less chance in losing life and limb. Riptalon favored keeping his limbs, thank you very much.

The coal-black griffon, only distinguishable by a few blue markings on his facial feathers as his only real distinct feature darted from rock to rock, keeping a keen ear out for any signs of Raiders. A combat knife was strapped to his other foreleg, ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice. Quick reflexes were another skill key to survival in the Wasteland. His ears perked up at the sound of conversation and a campfire crackling from behind a jagged outcropping.

“You heard, right?” a raspy voice chuckled. Riptalon guessed the owner might have been parched for water.

“Heard what? Lot of rumors going around lately,” said another voice. Female, if Riptalon had to venture another guess. As that voice was raspy as well, it was rather difficult to discern. “Recently heard rumors that there was this Gray Ghost wanderin’ about. Don’t know who the buck they’re referring to, but makes one wonder don’t it?”

Riptalon pressed his back against the the boulder, listening in curiously. He too had heard of the Gray Ghost. Some said she was a Griffon like him, others said she was something else entirely. Something not borne to this world, something otherworldly. Personally, Riptalon believed those rumors to be the stuff of drunks, like that Earth Pony he’d met in a bar a while back with a warrant for his arrest. Long story short, he may have caused a bit of… chaos a while back. Took a bit of haggling, but he was able to convince the arrest warrant to be dropped, least till he got out of town for the time being. Needless to say, a couple of the NCR members were still after him.

“And to think, I saved a few of their worthless hides a while back. Really ungrateful bastards they are if you ask me.” Riptalon thought to himself with a quiet huff as he continued to listen in, shutting off his Pipbuck in the process and deafening his radio to prevent detection. Mind you, that orange mare within their ranks isn’t so bad. Quite a looker, really.

“Tellin’ you, that Gray Ghost rumor gives me the creeps, makes my spine tingle,” the same (Probably) female voice said.

“Now don’t tell me you’re afraid of that? It’s just a rumor, nothin’ more,” a third voice joined in. “I mean, something going about the Wasteland takin’ names for itself and being an instrument of Celestia’s vengeance? Still sounds like a drunken fool’s ramblings to me.”

Riptalon let out a little snort. Seems he wasn’t the only one to take that mindset about the so called “Gray Ghost” making their mark on the Wasteland. Of course, Riptalon immediately realized making that little noise may have been a rather serious mistake on his part as the sound of weapons cocking reached his ears.

“Damn it all, knew I shouldn’t have lingered and just got a move on, but that’s curiosity for you, always getting the better of you and generally getting you killed… or close to it, anyways,” Rip thought to himself as he reached for his knife. “I almost envy the Light-Bringer about now. Almost.”

“Hear that?” the female voice asked as a shotgun cocked, and at this point Riptalon guessed she was the leader. “Looks like we got ourselves a little spy, boys! And we know what happens to them, don’t we?”

Low chuckles followed that statement.

“Yeah, definitely the leader,” Rip decided. “Let’s just hope it’s a small band of raiders, not a rogue group of Gawd’s Talons or whatnot. Really not looking to meeting with them again, given that half of them hate my guts and the other half want to eat my guts.”

Riptalon emerged from behind the boulder and pulled out his knife in his paw before ducking to the left behind a fallen tree as a shotgun shell whizzed past his shoulder with a loud whump like a bomb going off. Then, heavy machine gun fire riddled the air above him like the noise of thunder cracking through the sky. It was a nearly deafening, roaring sound like that of a wild animal. The griffon reached for his belt strapped across his chest, pulling out a grenade and throwing it as he pulled the pin and smirked.

“A pomegranate, from me to you,” Riptalon muttered to himself. “Consider it a gift from yours truly,”

There was a deafening explosion, followed by somepony screaming and cursing very loudly.

Riptalon sighed to himself before he shook his head and let out a little growl of frustration. Even if there were only three of them—albeit one injured—to one of him, he was still outnumbered. He needed a distraction. And then, as if somepony had heard him and was answering his prayers, he got one.

Something blazing bright red and orange like a comet flew through the sky above him on a collision course with the wastes to the south. Ears ringing from the sounds of gunfire and the grenade explosion, he trained his eyes upward to see what looked like the form of an airship rocketing down from above him. Riptalon’s eyes widened. He knew of only one group as of present time that had access to airships: the GPE, short for that damned self-righteous group known as the Grand Pegasus Enclave.

“Wonderful,” Riptalon thought to himself. “Last thing I need is a group of sky-hounders ruining my day even more than it already is. Still, if somebody shot down one of their damned airships I really must give props to the pony that did it. One less Enclave Airship is really quite a boon for the rest of us.”

Taking advantage of the distraction at hand, Riptalon leaped from behind the log and plunged his knife in the leader’s skull, blood and gore spraying everywhere and splattering Riptalon’s face. The griffon rolled to the left as the Raiders opened fire with their machine guns, throwing a smoke bomb. Taking advantage of the confusion, he slit the throat of the nearest raider closest to him with a swing and a slash before elbowing the other in the gut.

He unfurled his wings and took to the sky as the smoke cleared, rocketing away toward the crash site. He glimpsed the final raider, cornflower-blue in color with a spiked mohawk style mane, clutching what once was a foreleg in pain and trying to stop the bloodflow.

“I’m willing to take my chances. Any place is better than here right now. That last one, he’s crippled from my little pineapple surprise at best so I don’t think he’ll be following me anytime soon.” Riptalon turned his Pipbuck back on the radio station just in time to hear the closing lines of narration.

“And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts,
And I looked and behold: a pale horse.
And his name, that sat on him, was Death.
And Hell followed with him.”

As Riptalon flew off, he failed to see the raider, blood pooling around what was left of his leg, reach for a radio and coughed out, “Tell… Tell them, we’ve found him. The Blackhawk.”

He shuddered, and his eyes shut for the final time. If Riptalon had seen or heard this, he would have become very worried indeed, and with good reason. Everybody from the Big 52 to Junction Town wanted a little piece of him. If they knew he was in the area, and now thanks to this dying Raider they would, they’d come for miles around just to take a shot at him. That’s not counting what would happen if they succeeded in taking him out. If they did, whoever got the lucky shot earned him or her quite the bragging rights indeed...

The wind kicked up as Riptalon pulled his goggles over his eyes to prevent grains of sand and dust from reaching them. He saw black smoke rising in the distance, billowing high into the sky as the setting sun behind him casting a red and orange glow across the land.

Riptalon took a brief moment to smile wistfully. He remembered when you couldn’t see the sun nor the moon for the life of you. Smog had covered the sky like a thick blanket, only adding to the Wasteland’s hellish appearance. It was only after Littlepip/The Light-Bringer activated the Single Pegasus Project and brought the weather back under control that hope started to return to the Wastes.

He smiled as he remembered something a pony he’d run across in a town a short while back had told him in passing: “This world is a harsh place. I have seen so much death, so much suffering. But in time I learned that beneath it is there is still a seed of hope, and good ponies willing to dedicate their lives to make that hope bloom.”

That was ten years ago, and Riptalon had scarcely believed it then. But things were different now. It was the dawn of a new age.

The griffon scoffed. Well, that’s what some Wastelanders believed. Riptalon was of the mind things would never change. Oh sure, the NCR kept the peace as much as they could, but ending war? No, war never changed. The Grand Pegasus Enclave was proof of that.

“I don’t even know why I’m going out of my way to even look at this crash site. Do my civic duty to the Waste-Dwellers and clean up any stragglers? Maybe. Probably suicide, but still worth doing if only for what they might have on hoof. The infamous “Blackhawk” chuckled wryly. “Way I figure it, anything that might have survived the crash and’s worth taking is probably more than enough reason for me to go there, stupid or not.”

Rip could see a town in the distance, beyond which lay the hulking mess of the Enclave Airship, fire burning all around the crash site and spreading to the trees catching them ablaze.

Riptalon sighed. He wasn’t a good griffon, but was he a stupid one? He sucked in a breath. Time to find out.

A gunshot whizzed by his head with a crack and he heard shouting. His sea-green eyes narrowed.

“Bucking figures, I knew I should have killed that last one from the get-go, but I figured he’d die quickly enough that he wouldn’t get word off to his buddies that I’m in the area. Shows what I know, doesn’t it?” Riptalon mentally growled and went for another grenade. “Well, once more unto the breach as they say…”

Part 9: "I walked the Streets of Neigh Orleans.."

Neigh Orleans:

The storm raged on throughout the night, and jagged flashes lightning lit up the skies around Neigh Orleans and the surrounding area of the Hayseed Swamps. These massive expanses or mire, murk, and what was pretty much the closest equivalent to a jungle this part of Equestria had went on for miles seemingly without end till they reached the Celestial Sea to the east.

Beyond that, lay the Griffon Kingdoms, what was once Riptalon’s homeland before it too, was swallowed up by warfare and left an inhospitable waste. Maybe things had changed in those 210 years, but if they had the Griffon empire sure seemed to not want anything to do with Equestria. Not that Riptalon could blame them of course, considering how badly all sides involved had messed things up for future generations. Honestly, he sorta understood why Scootaloo made the Stables, as one big middle talon to the rulers of Equestria and the Ministry Mares. They’d created this Hell, now they had to live with what they’d created.

But back to the Hayseed Swamps. It was Hell trekking through those swamplands, really. Firstly, there were the bugs, various creepy crawlies ranging from tiny as a griffon’s paw to as big as a good sized snake. Mosquitos, ready to suck out your blood and laden with various diseases flew through the air, and radigators propagated the swamps ready to swallow you up in one gulp. Then there were the other critters that were said to inhabit the swamps, like giant cats who stalked the night, blending in with the plants around them and the only warning you got -And that was if you were lucky- was the gleam of their eyes and a snarl before they pounced. Yes, it was a strange sort of area, filled with enough various interesting and odd creatures -Only a few of which had occupied a political office in the old days- to fill an entire book if anypony cared to write one. Perhaps someone had indeed dared to try, they’d just never lived long enough to publish it.

Yet somehow, long before the bombs dropped, groups of ponies from very different ways of life and very different countries had managed to carve out a paradise -If not a sleazy one- in this place.

Riptalon, as he lay in bed listening to the rain patter on the rooftop of his lodging, had to admit that the ponies insane enough to make this city were a kind he had to admire. To be fairly honest with you dear reader, Riptalon was never much of a sleeper. Maybe it had been from years on the run, fighting and hiding from whoever was out to get him, but in the past few years, he’d developed a strong case of insomnia. He certainly couldn’t explain the reason why he had it, he just dealt with the problem best as he could and hoped he could catch a few hours of sleep.

To counteract the boredom of staring at the ceiling for hours on end, he’d snuck back down to the bar, and found something worthwhile to read in the meantime.

A book lay on the griffon’s bedside table, with the cover depicting a statue of a mare holding up two plates in either hoof. He’d found this piece of literature near the bartender, who’d fallen fast asleep in a drunken stupor. Least this night, Riptalon knew the exact reason why he’d been unable to fall asleep that night. Namely, he was still far too disturbed by Calamity’s words not just a few hours earlier.

“Yeah, ya owe a lot of debts Blackhawk, just sayin'. Not gettin’ in my good books really with that excuse,” Calamity replied before his voice lowered. “Listen, Ah may have pulled your fat out of the fire a few times here and there and got the lawmen off yer tail, but that does not make us in anyway friends,”

“Yeah, yeah… Henri told me the same thing as well, she’s been yabbering on about that ever since we met up a few days back on that recruitment drive of hers,”

“You think he’s not?” Riptalon asked, his voice lowering to Calamity’s own pitch as they took a seat at a table, chatter from the ponies around them fading out.

“You saying I’m a traitor?” Riptalon hissed out.

“Well, ya are to everybody at large,” Calamity pointed out. “Not ta me, of course, but to everybody else…”

“But it’s the odd thing, isn’t it?” Calamity replied. “No Dashite brand, nothin’ of the sort is there? It’s a walkin’ conundrum…”

For personal purposes, Riptalon had recorded this snippet of the conversation on an Audio Log. He wanted to keep reminding himself, if needed, that he was working with somepony who at any given moment, could very well stab him in the back if he chose to do so. If Calamity raised a fuss about being recorded without his consent, Riptalon would keenly remind him that this recording would serve as evidence that former Enclave Soldiers couldn’t be trusted. After all, considering some of the things Calamity had said, it would put him in ties with Riptalon if the griffon chose to “Release” this information.

Call it paranoia, but Riptalon didn’t entirely trust Calamity even if the pegasus was the Element of Loyalty. Enclave soldiers were Enclave soldiers, defectors or not. Sighing, he turned his attentions back to his book, a real pageturner. It told a story, one that had happened long before the war right here in Neigh Orleans. It depicted a local male prostitute, (As said in the book, one who was a good time not yet had by all) and his murder by gunshot. The book centered on his killer, and the three protracted and media-whored trials he’d gone through to try and prove his guilt. Curiously, none of the three had ever proven such a thing had happened.

Interestingly, however, something had happened not long after the trials ended. One night, in his home, the killer had died in his armchair via heart attack. But where the body was found, it was exactly in the same location where, supposedly, his prostitute lover had tried to kill him (The one whom he had later himself killed) some odd years before. It was very sordid affair really, and could leave one thinking on what exactly happened that night for days to come even after they’d long finished reading.

Riptalon turned to Iron at his side, who’d wrapped his hooves around him and was nuzzling his head into the griffon’s coal-black chest feathers. Riptalon sighed, wasn’t this what pillows were meant for? Actually, come to think of it, didn’t the Neighponese come up with what they called dakimakuras, or body pillows just for this purpose? Of course, then Iron grabbed onto Riptalon ever tighter still and seemed to have no intention of letting him go. It was almost like he treated the griffon like a comfort object, something soft and sweet (If you could even apply soft and sweet as a label to Riptalon) to hold onto in the nightmare that was the Equestrian Wastes.

Riptalon then took notice of Iron’s mouth, and what it was muttering. “Regret… Regret… Regret…” he repeated over and over, with no other context given. What, Riptalon questioned, could lead Iron or whatever he really called himself to mutter regret over and over in his sleep? Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d faintly remembered Iron muttering this back in the Old Appleloosian wastes as well before the Coywolf ambush.

“Least you’re getting some form of sleep, unlike me…” Riptalon thought, a smile creeping onto his beak, before it quickly vanished as soon as it had arrived. He slapped himself in the face, what was he thinking? Even showing some small form of nicety to the guy? Common sense told him to just shove Iron into the floor and let him sleep there.

He continued to think on the words, going over all possibilities. Maybe a coltfriend (Iron was gay, of that Riptalon had no doubt at least. One of the few things he could safely be sure of about his ‘ally’) that he’d broken up with quite badly, and Iron regretted that. Maybe it was something else, it was nigh-impossible to be sure. Whatever the case, the mutterings continued for a brief while before they stopped.

It would go on to be a subject of idle curiosity for Riptalon over the next few hours, before he too, finally succumbed to the world of dreams when drowsiness finally overtook him.

Iron groaned as he blinked and shielded his face with a wing to block the sunlight coming in through the open window. The smell of freshly fallen rain hit his nostrils, amongst other things like fried seafood cooking and fresh bourbon. Loud laughter echoed from the streets below. It seemed, even this early in the morning, Neigh Orleans’ sleazy party lifestyle was ever-present.

Iron, for a moment, wondered what there was to party about. After all, if the radio broadcasts were correct, there was a war going on wasn’t there? Then a thought came to him. Perhaps these ponies partied because it was all they could do. Do something else to keep their minds off the ever-present threat of the Enclave.

Nearby, a radio played old-time jazz music as the sound of a shower faucet running hit Iron’s ears. Then, it turned off, and from the bathroom came Riptalon running a towel through his head feathers.

“Might want to consider taking a shower yourself, get all that dried blood out of your fur,” Riptalon advised. “If not, ponies might start thinking you’re a serial killer,”

“Technically, I am, given all the killing we’ve been doing lately… Mind you, in self-defense, but I am still a killer.” Iron remarked dryly as he got up out of bed and pulled the covers off himself.

Riptalon threw the towel at him and gave him an annoyed look. “Just clean yourself off, for Celestia’s sake…” he muttered and had to practically shove Iron into the bathroom. As the door slammed shut, Riptalon sighed and rested his head up against a wall muttering “Why me…?”

Eventually, the two (With Riptalon now clad in a big gunmetal grey flak jacket) wandered down to the bar below, which was abuzz with activity. Ponies drunk and danced to the music playing from the jukebox. Personally, given how loud everything was, Iron wondered how he hadn’t heard it before.

Grabbing a drink from a stallion who’d slumped in his seat, he popped the cap and drunk the liquid inside. Riptalon gave him a look but sighed. What would be the point in trying and stopping him anyways?

“Let’s just hope he’s sober enough to fight when we reach Mt. Pleasant Island… Or not, him getting killed would give me one less headache to worry about…” Riptalon thought to himself. “Hmm, let’s see… One good shot who’s a complete pain in the neck, or a dead pain in the neck? Which would be better? I mean, it’s not already like we don’t have Target Quartermane with us…”

“Here’s the caps for the room,” he said to the bartender, who laughed.

“Won’t have to find the bedsheets a mess and stinkin’ somethin’ fierce, will I?” He joked, and Riptalon’s jaw dropped before his face seemed to contort in rage. He looked as if he wanted to strangle the bartender, but thought the better of it.

With a sigh, he held out the book he’d borrowed from the bartender and muttered: “Here, think this is yours…”

“Do I really want to know?” Iron asked, with an eyebrow raised as Riptalon wandered back over to him and they walked back out in the street. The scorching heat hit their faces at once and Riptalon sighed. If it wasn’t raining, it was boiling hot enough to appease Tirek himself down in Tartarus. Neigh Orleans, in that respect, was a city of two extremes.

“Don’t ask…” Riptalon trailed off. “Just… don’t, okay?”

Iron wanted to continue the line of questioning, but the look on Riptalon’s face told him to shut his mouth.

From a nearby bar, jazz continued to play, and Iron perked his ears up to listen to the tune. It was dirge-like, in some ways with how slow the tune was played but still worth a listen.

“...I've seen old bucks drunk, singin' the blues
With top hats', canes and spectator horseshoes
I consider myself lucky to have fallen in love
With a mare, a city, and the river of mud.”

Iron found himself nodding along to the song’s tune, and the horns playing their song. Of course, Iron had to admit he himself was falling in love with the city. It had its charms, he supposed. Just took a special kind of pony to appreciate them.

Riptalon, evidently, wasn’t that type as he didn’t look so pleased. His displeasure was only increased when a white mare, dressed in scant clothing pulled him aside and whispered: “Well, heard ya liked Celestia to fuck ya sideways… Ah’m not Celestia, but Ah can guarantee Ah can handle the second part…” She trailed off.

“Not interested,” Riptalon grunted as she shoved her away.

“Awww, but baby…” the mare murmured, stroking Riptalon’s chin and fluttering her heavily makeup covered eyes seductively.

“He said he’s not interested.” Iron growled, pulling out his pistol at the mare, whose face changed into one of both dawning realization and recognition.

“Oh… Right… It was a buck who propositioned him that. Actually, now that Ah think of it, it was ya who did that!” the mare said with a giggle, and a flip of her violet colored mane.

Iron stared and leaned over to Riptalon and whispered “Did I really say that?” a blush rising to his normally stone grey features.

“You might have… Yeah,” Riptalon muttered. Iron groaned and hit his head against a stone wall.

As he did that, he muttered: “Somebody, just kill me now…”

“Believe me, I’ve been thinking of that since last night,” Riptalon muttered to himself, fiddling with his knife and sharpening it against a tree. Iron, if he’d heard that, ignored the comment outright and turned back to the prostitute.

“Really, I have to ask… Selling your body out like this? Not my choice of career, lemme tell you. Seems awfully narcissistic, letting ponies see every inch of you, every night really. Might want to think about that.” Iron commented bluntly, as the mare’s jaw dropped.

“I’m… narcissistic… not…” the mare stammered out in disbelief, unable to form a proper sentence.

“So you’re not narcissistic or you are?” Iron asked, still in that blunt, slightly bored same tone of voice. “Least you could do is give me the favor of answering the question properly.”

“Well, I never!” the mare snapped, before trotting off the street in a huff.

“...Think you might have pissed her off, there,” Riptalon deadpanned, somewhat amused.

“Hey, I got her off your back didn’t I?” Iron asked, turning back to look at him. Eyebrow, again raised. “Besides, who knows what kinds of diseases that mare’s been transmitting. Really should think of a career change if you ask me.”

At that, Riptalon actually burst out laughing.

“Hey, are you two knucklehead lovebirds done socializing and ticking off the locals?” Henri’s voice yelled out, as she walked up, still clad in that lightly armored NCR bodysuit of hers. Her twin .45 caliber pistols, Black and White Rose were strapped to her back legs like always.

“We’re… He’s not my… We’re not dating!” Riptalon snapped and Henri smirked before chuckling.

“Sure you’re not…” Henri trailed off with an amused smile on her face once she’d stopped laughing at the two’s expressions. Riptalon’s was one of barely masked rage, and Iron’s was one of confusion.

“Why does she think we’re…?” Iron trailed off.

“I don’t know why…” Riptalon drawled as a reply, his tone completely sarcastic.

“When you two are done…” Henri coughed. “Calamity’s waiting for both of you at the local firing range, wants to get Iron up to speed with S.A.T.S and get him fitted for one of these bodysuits,” she explained before walking off.

As she walked down the street, she turned and winked at Riptalon. “Oh, and if it turns out you like what you see, try not to rip it off him first thing you do m’kay? Save your sex life for a later date, like when this war’s over and Winter Breeze is in the ground.” she teased.

Riptalon looked ready to throttle her for that remark, and Iron’s next comment didn’t help.

“Gee, she really gets her bee under your bonnet, doesn’t she?” Iron smirked, with a flirty cackle and laughed all the way to the firing range at Riptalon’s slack-jawed expression.

“You know, I’m beginning to think Iron’s not as dumb or naive as he looks…” the griffon thought to himself.

Neigh Orleans Firing Range

“Weeeeelll, Ah’ll be dog-gone… Now you’re actually starting to look like a proper member of the NCR.” Calamity complimented with a tip of his hat as Iron emerged from a storage unit, now clad in the same type of loose fitting, but lightly armored bodysuit he’d seen Henri dressed in. After Iron was handed his rifle back, Calamity had explained to him that these bodysuits were inspired by those worn by a mare long ago, before the Megaspells dropped. Went by the name of Tempest Shadow, he’d explained. To add to that, these uniforms -Well, the original variant anyways- used to be the official garb of some army led by this Storm King, whoever he may have been. They were flexible enough to allow maneuverability in combat, but still tough enough to take a few bullets.

When questioned as to why he preferred a flak jacket over one of these, Riptalon had replied: “You honestly see me fitting into one of those things, you dunce? Far too constricting.”

When Iron had thought about it, he had a point. Now that Riptalon had brought it up, and when Iron gave it some thought, he did seem a little larger than your average griffon. ...Of course, Iron had no accurate estimate for what size griffons normally came in. For all he knew, Riptalon may have been average size, and Henri abnormally small. Or a simple case of sexual dimorphism. He’d bring it up to Henri later. More approachable than Riptalon in his mind. Less scary as well. ...Well, slightly less scary.

“Clean yer mane-style up a little more, make it look a bit less scruffy or somethin’ and Ah think ya’d actually look mighty handsome.”

“Yeah, have to agree with Calamity, you’re constantly looking like you’ve had sex with somebody, the way your mane is right now,” Riptalon agreed, a talon to his chin in thought. “Now, I’m the last griffon you’d probably want as a mane stylist, but I think with you, you’d want the ruggedly handsome look.”

“Why, you want him to have that look? He does seem to be yer partner, in every sense of the word…” Calamity trailed off with a laugh and Riptalon fumed.

“Hardly. Me and him having sex? That’s about as likely as Twilight Sparkle herself coming back from the dead!” Riptalon scoffed.

“Well… Considering Littlepip ran into an Alicorn with Twilight’s Cutie Mark -or one that had a remarkable resemblance to ‘ers- some years back…” Calamity trailed off before he shook his head. Those two were so going to be rutting like rabbits any day now, he just knew it. But enough of teasing them both. He had a job to do. “Anyways, now… S.A.T.S. Or the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell if ya like. It’s a spell that’s been built into every Pipbuck, just like yers. What does it do? Now, Ah run the risk of ramblin’ here, but what it does is put the world in a frozen state durin’ combat allowin’ ya to gauge the situation in peace. Not completely safe, but comes in mighty handy, lemme tell you. Now, this spell here… It highlights the various weak spots on a target, and increases the chance of a successful hit,” he explained.

“So, it slows down time?” Iron questioned, intrigued.

“Not exactly…” Calamity continued. “Exactly the opposite, it speeds things up just a little.Your perception of the world, drastically sped up for a spell. However, it’s not a shortcut to everythin’ Ah should explain. Needs to be recharged for a few minutes at the very least dependin’ on how ya use it, so use it sparingly. Now, there used to be another spell called the Eyes Forward Sparkle, or E.F.S for short, but it’s since dropped out of use,”

“Why’s that?” Iron asked curiously.

“Well,” Calamity continued. “It was under the advisement of a mare named Blackjack. What the E.F.S did, or used to, before it fell out of use by most of us, was assign color designations to each creature it picked up depending on hostility level. Red meant danger, while yellow meant friendly or at the very least neutral. Now, the problem was, in the Wastelands, as it turned out, ya couldn’t rely on this blindly. Couldn’t distinguish between frightened scavengers from actual dangers, like Radscorpions and the like, as Blackjack told us. Other problems presented themselves as well, like being unable to distinguish vertical height so ya couldn’t tell where somethin’ was in a multistory structure. System’s notoriously unreliable, as it turned out.”

Calamity then pressed a button and several makeshift targets (Themed after the members of the Enclave, along with one being based off Red-eye) popped up, and with the creaking and groaning of long unused gears, they began to move back and forth.

“Now, all ya have to do is hit as many of them as ya can with yer gun. No time limit, no scoring system, just want to see what ya can do. No pressure, really. Just take as long as ya need.” Calamity reassured.

Iron then engaged the S.A.T.S system, and on the dark green screen that made up his Pipbuck’s display, the various weak spots were pointed out on each target as they moved. Calamity noticed what his fellow pegasus was doing and then took away the Pipbuck.

“Uh-uh, no dice. Ah want to see what you can do with just yer gun, no helpin' hooves. Situation may come at some point where yer without a Pipbuck to help ya, understand?” He asked, and Iron nodded, before squeezing the trigger of his rifle as he looked down the scope. He lay prone to the ground, like a sniper. Calamity eyed him curiously, now that was interesting. Very interesting indeed.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Several shots went off in quick succession, brass casings flying from the rifle with each shot. Then, the trigger was squeezed several more times.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

And so the cycle continued...

Meanwhile, Henri, as she looked over a map of Equestria sighed to herself. Mount Pleasant Island, it stuck out like a sore thumb on the map. Located directly below Baltimare, in the Horseshoe Bay, this island had been the subject of mystery for many years. What little was known, it housed a thriving fishing community at least at one point, and was almost constantly covered by fog. That, and it hid some of the most dangerous creatures imaginable. Mirelurks, Fog Crawlers and Anglers to name just a few.

“No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear…” Henri muttered to herself as she absentmindedly fiddled with the safety of one of her pistols. Henri sighed to herself, there. She admitted it, she was afraid, but nobody could blame her really. However, she couldn’t let it show. She was the commander, and if the commander showed fear, it would be passed down to the troops.

Morale would slowly drop, combat effectiveness would drop. And she needed everybody, even that thrice be damned griffon Riptalon to be at their best.

“Something wrong?” Midnight asked as he approached, his shotgun in his hands. Henri downed a small flask as she sighed.

“No, nothing’s wrong…” Henri replied. “No, nothing at all..” she thought to herself before flashing back.

It was Junction Town, just a few months before she’d been assigned to go on this mission. Henri had found herself doing a routine Radroach inspection in one of the cellars of somepony’s home. She’d forgotten whose it was, to be honest. Didn’t actually care enough to remember their name. Actually, Henri didn’t know why she’d even taken this frankly rather dull job. Probably for the caps, maybe. But there she was, a glorified exterminator.

Radroaches, once they got up in your plumbing or heating systems, then you’d have a problem. They were a real bitch to get rid of once they got there, so it was routinely advised for the residents of Junction Town just to check their cellars every so often to make sure they didn’t have an infestation.

This cellar did, and apparently the homeowner had this crippling fear of the little things. Odd, really when one could easily just smash them with a pipe wrench or any other object of a similar size. Wasn’t like radroaches were particularly well-built.

So, Henri searched the cellar for any signs of an infestation. Behind crates and barrels. She didn’t quite know how either, but she’d quickly found herself surrounded by the little buggers, and she -thinking this was some sort of prank, as after all, who was scared of radroaches?- had neglected to bring her weapons along with her for the first time in her life. And not a pipe wrench in sight.

“Hey, get away from her, you meanies!” a voice shouted, and several rocks flung from a slingshot flew and several radroaches bit the dust. Hooves galloped down to meet Henri, hooves belonging to a little Zebra filly with her mane tied in a ponytail.

“What are you doing down here, you little idiot? Could have been bitten by one of those things, and then I’d be sued by your parents for child endangerment and Gawd knows what else…” Henri muttered as she looked at the filly, remembering her name to be Nzuri. Friends with that Flood Waters filly. “Got spunk kid, reminds me of somepony I knew once…”

“Hey, just thought I could help, that’s a-OW!” Nzuri began to explain, before receiving a firm slap across her rump by Henri.

“You little idiot…” Henri muttered in a half-hearted tone of annoyance.

Henri smiled wistfully, that filly was trouble, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. But she was the good kind of trouble, the kind that grew on you.

“Promise kiddo, I’ll make it back to you and then we can go radroach hunting together, kay?” Henri thought before taking another sip from her flask.

Author's Note

Well, hope you hada happy "Shoot the Turkey Day!"

Anyways... Yeah. Okay, I admit it, this chapter was mainly just filler for the most part, even if it did develop more of Henri and Iron's characters here. Iron really needed it the most, as for most of this story, in my mind at least, he really was this bland and a rather naive character. It's probably within only the last few chapters he's starting growing.

Henri's an interesting case, she's got an already established character thanks to Pink Eyes, but her arc needs to be continued as a character for this story. So that's partially the reason why Alicia and Katie (Or Nzuri and Flood Waters as they're known here) from Ruinqueen's Ponies after People story "The Lost Children" were brought in. Give Henri somepony to form a bond with, and help her move on a bit more from Puppysmile's death.

Now, on those two fillies, or more precisely, their names. Choosing Katie's name was easy enough. But Alicia's Equestrian name? Now, that took a little bit of thinking. Me and Ruin tossed around suggestions. First, I put the name through Google Translate and see what it came out in Latin as and I got Veni for some odd reason. Then, Nobilis got suggested, relating to Alicia's German root, which meant Noble One. Then, after thinking on that, I thought up Nzuri, which is Noble in Swahili.

Anyways, enough of my rambling. Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated as always.