Fallout Equestria: Blood and Sand

by Caring_Hoof

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Science Fiction, Tragedy, Adventure, Crossover, Sex
Length: 27365

Fallout Equestria Sidefic

Blood Drop is not a good pony. The wasteland has no space for weakness, or compassion, or so he thinks until he saves a unicorn with a broken horn from a raider's cruelty, and finds himself on the old road to redemption.

Inspired by Khat's "Fallout: Equestria", Somber's "Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons", loosely by My Little Pony: The Movie, and Fallout: New Vegas by Obsidian Entertainment and Bethesda.

Published 2017-11-03 22:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-11-11 01:03:27 UTC

Chapter 2: A Mare Chooses...

Chapter 2: A Mare Chooses...

“Now d'ja hear 'bout Lucky Winner? He disappeared, babe

After drawin' out all his hard-earned cash

And now Black Teeth spends just like a sailor

Could it be our colt's done somethin' rash? “

“Uh... h-hey there, Oli-”

The orange-floating pistol struck the back of my head, and I felt dizzy.

“Don’t you “hey there” me you bastahd! It took me three years to break outta dat fuckin prison!” He snarled, stamping a hoof dangerously near to my netherregions. “Give me ONE GOOD REASON why I shouldn’t blow yer brains out all ova tha sand!”

I didn’t need to answer- I heard sparks and electricity, as Victory offered a pretty damn good reason- “If you do that, I’m without a guide, and I’ll blow you to smithereens!”

Smithereens? What pony says that?

He growled- not gonna work buddy, I’ve tried it- and aimed the massive piece at her forehead. “Ya best pipe down, stumpy, or I’ll be shootin ya foist!” Clearly, his accent hadn’t grown any less cartoonish since I...

An olive-colored unicorn with the most luminescent orange mane and eyes ever seen in the wastes begged for forgiveness, tears and snot clogging his fur in a pitiful display of pathetic simpering. A metal collar fastened around his stout neck, and with a click and a beep, his fate was sealed.

I’d heard of a Saddle Arabian Standoff before, but never actually been in one- I’d always been the sort to shoot first and not give them the opportunity. But here, before my eyes, I knew neither of them would back down and they should have been more than evenly matched; Victory, however, was drunk. She was very good at being drunk, but was still...

Victory’s movement shifted as the drunken dizziness hit her.

Ah, crap.. A ten-millimeter-bullet tore through her left ear, enough to make her scream and lose balance. The bolt of energy hit a far-off skywagon, and that skywagon erupted into a small singularity. Olive Loaf, to his credit, did not so much as flinch as his grimy face split into a devilish grin. “Now, wheah were we?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It would have been a comedic sight, had we not been in mortal danger: two drunken ponies, one a unicorn with no horn and another an earth pony with no coordination, being forced by a gun-toting, black-maned orange-glowing unicorn with a huge firearm pointed at our backs.

As it was, though, it was just miserable. One, we were hammered- and I mean completely and utterly off our plots on Wild Pegasus- and we couldn’t hope to try to fight him. Two-we were incredibly, INCREDIBLY hammered, and we both knew that if this went somewhere bad, we’d both wake up with the worst hangovers known to ponykind.

I would’ve almost preferred a new hole to think out of.

We soon arrived at a town, a small one with the standard hollowed-out husks of wooden buildings and charred trees, with fires burning on every corner. The desert grew cold at night; most ponies’ coats weren’t thick enough to deal with the only-slightly-above-freezing temperature, and each pony we saw was bundled up and curled around flaming oil barrels full of wood and refuse. The town stank, too, with the scents of urine and body odour, the acrid scent of burning plastic permeating the air even more thoroughly than that. I didn’t have to imagine where we were.

Neighlson.

A filthy, grimy, disgusting town, full of the type of pony I’d been cultivating an image around to keep off my back.

Not that it would help me now.

Olive Loaf paraded us around, eventually getting us to the town hall. It was a tall building, at least three stories, and a clock which had stopped centuries ago adorned the drab, charcoal-tinged architecture. Even as he took us past a row of especially large fires (were those skeletons?) I could practically feel the slimy self-confidence leaking from his fur like skin from a cloud victim.

In my drunken state, I had only just noticed something- his mane wasn’t orange. I realize I’d stated this previously, but given the circumstances, I figure it was a perfectly fine slipup to make. I looked back at him, chancing a jab-

“You look different. Did you do something with your mane?”

CLANK!

If I weren’t so unbelievably blitzed, that would have hurt.

...More than it already did.
“OW!” I yelped, and he snickered. If I didn’t know better, I’d’ve sworn Chime did too.

“Yeh, I changed my mane. Kinda had to with alla dose slavahs out for mah HEAD! I’d still have ma gorgeous orange mane if ya hadn’ sold me inta a goddamned life a servitude!” This earned a shocked look from Victory Chime, and I stared at the dirt as her look set my chest to burning again.

“You.. YOU SOLD HIM INTO SLAVERY?”

I wanted to answer, but Loaf was sure he wanted to answer instead. “Yeah! He did! All I did was trick him outta a few caps, an he goes an sells me off to the first slava he sees!”

“A few caps? YOU COST ME THREE THOUSAND CAPS, you scummy son of a b-” Thud.

Okay. That word seemed to get me smacked an awful lot. I needed a new one.

“...Biscuit-munching... erm... shit. I got nothin.”

“Shut up and get inside, ya bastahd.” he bucked the door open, and the two of us shuffled inside, me watching the ground and Victory watching me.

The inside of the building didn’t smell any better than the outside; if anything, it was worse, because it was concentrated. No air from outside to blow the smell away as it was generated. I found myself feeling sorry for the poor bastards who were downwind from this hellhole, but I didn’t have much time to worry about it before I heard a gunshot and felt a blazing pain in my rear left hoof. It buckled from under me and I grabbed my knee reflexively, screaming muffled by his pulling a disgusting, sweat-tasting cloth between my teeth, gagging me and keeping me from reacting. Instead, I bit down as hard on it as I could, trying to ignore the agony in my hoof- that bullet must have hit bone! I sat on my haunches, growling under my breath in an attempt to release the angry tension, as the sick son of a ... buck laughed.

“Ha! Good luck tryina get outta dis place now ya stupid bastahd!” And I thought I had a limited vocabulary...

The pain kept me from noticing as a leather-barded female, earth pony and taller than either of the three of us looked us over, grey-coated with a bronze mane, and a cutie mark of spiked manacles. She spoke in an irritatingly aristocratic voice considering where we were as she drawled “MUST you rough up the merchandise, Olive?” she kicked my leg, and I screamed into the gag. “It drastically reduces the prices we can get from the slavers. I’d spare a healing potion,” she said to me this time, “Buuut you’re simply not worth the price. You’d better learn to trot on that leg, kid.” she kicked it again, and I barely held back tears as pain blossomed through my leg, the bullethole throbbing. As I sat there, tensing, Olive Loaf’s magic dropped the pistol into a holster on his back leg and pulled out... a knife. I looked at my leg, and back to him, and my ears fell to my head in despair. This was going to suck. He plunged the thin switchblade into the bullethole, and I screamed into the gag as the bigger earth pony pinned me down. The blade dug into the hole, and I was ashamed to feel tears coursing down my cheeks- in my buzzed state, emotional control was beyond me- as he dug the massive bullet from the bone. He tossed it aside, gave the gaping bulletwound one more vindictive stab, and laughed sadistically as I felt my head swim, the alcohol, exhaustion and pain finally robbing me of my consciousness.

********************************************************************************************

I woke slowly, my heart thudding in my head, hind leg screaming and every muscle in my body aching and sore. As my blurred vision slowly cleared (or at least, got HALF clear. Hangovers suck!) I saw the vague shape of steel bars, laying on a rancid mattress in the enclosed space. My hangover and my poor leg...

You asked for this, Blood Drop. my mind told me, You deserved this. I spat, shaking the thoughts from my head- of course, that only worked because shaking my head amplified the agonizing throbbing in my brainpan, a white hot searing pain consuming my vision. Slowly, very slowly, the pain stopped, and I shakily tried to stand. My hindleg wasn’t strong enough to hold me- hay, none of my limbs were right now- but I somehow managed to turn around, looking for Victory Chime. I looked.. And looked... and when I didn’t see her, a panic rose in my chest replacing all of the pain with an anxious energy. “Victory Charm? VICTORY? VICTORY WHERE ARE YOU?”

A pair of powder-blue hooves smacked the side of the cage, and I collapsed under the weight of my own body. Victory Charm looked down at me with utter disgust. “Shut up, asshole. I’m right here. Keep it down, would ya?” I was extremely relieved... until I noticed.

“Wh-why aren’t you in a cage?”

She snarled. “I convinced them that you had imprisoned me, and got me drunk to keep me from fighting back. You son of a bitch, you sold somepony to SLAVERS?” she smacked the bars, and my skull exploded into pain again. “She smacked it again, and i curled up instinctively to try to protect my brain. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“P-please, keep it d-”

She kicked the bars again. “Oh, I’m sorrryyyy, am I hurting your HEAD?” she kicked the bars again, and I shook as I attempted to push my hooves into my ears. “You bastard, you deserve this. You’re lucky I don’t kill you myself, but I’m sure the slavers will be more than happy I left you alive!”

I looked at her, and for the first time in decades, I showed just how terrified I was. “P-please, no, not that. Not slavers, please, I.. I can’t live as a slave! I did something stupid, I-I sold him to slavers because I was angry! I’m sorry!” I found myself sobbing, and admonished myself inwardly. Goddesses dammit, don’t cry! Weakness gets you killed! Despite my brain insisting I needed to shut up, I ended up curling in on myself, sobbing into my hooves.

A flashback to the day earlier- the day before? How long had I been passed out?- and Victory Charm crying, curled up just like I was now, against the sun-baked bricks. I raised a hoof, mustering all of my strength, and brought it down against my skull in an attempt to silence my crying. Charm gasped, and her eyes went wide as I saw her through the haze of pain. Fear and guilt overrode any control I might have had left, and for the first time the weight of all of these years of being just the standard bad pony in the wastes bore down on my shoulders. I brought the hoof up again, and brought it down, gritting my teeth against the tears- I didn’t need to cry. Crying was for ponies who deserved the catharsis. I brought it up again, and-

Felt Charm grabbing my hoof. I didn’t look at her, and expected her hoof to crush mine, or to hold it so she could magic it off, but it just stayed there. Her voice turned softer, as she looked at me- I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that. “Stop. Just.. stop. Hurting yourself is NOT making up for this. It’s just an exercise in self pity. Stop hurting yourself, and just... stop.” Her voice still had a hard edge to it, but a tiny bit of softness crept into it. I pulled my hoof away, and laid my head on them both. She spared one more look at me, and trotted away into the darkness, leaving me alone in my cage, and the bed I’d made for myself.

I’m such a terrible pony..

*************************************************************************************

I eventually fell asleep, despite the pain in my leg, and was woken by softer whispering voices. I heard somepony trotting towards me, and it had a different cadence than Victory Charm. I looked up, expecting more pain, and saw Olive Loaf grinning. I knew how I looked- tears on my cheeks, blood caking my wound, my eyes likely puffy, and my nose leaking from my intense crying spell before. My hangover was lessened, but not gone, and I looked down again.

“You’re going to sell me to slaver ponies. Aren’t you.”

“O-ho yeah I am. An it’s gonna be soooo much woise than my little stay. You’s is goin to tha Rust Horde.”

Terror once again hit me like a supersledge, and I shook harder. “Th...the... “

“Yep! Theya gonna work ya to tha bone, an if ya don’ work y’self to the grave, they’ll string y’up in a manner that’ll make a Raider quake!” He jabbed my leg, and I howled. “...an don’ expect that ta make them take it any easier on ya! They’s gonna make you work even when that li’l woun’ theyah ends up gettin’ infected. Wondah what task they’ll give ya if ya only got three legs!” He cackled, and I almost began to cry.. Until I closed my eyes, and sighed.

“It’s no better than I deserve.”

Olive Loaf was, clearly, not expecting that. “Wh...what? Yer s’poseta be cryin in ya bardin!”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction. “Why should I? You sobbed, and begged for your life before you were slapped in irons by slavers. I wouldn’t expect any more mercy than I gave you.”

He looked taken aback, and then stamped his hoof- pain blossomed through my skull again. “Well don’ think that’ll get ya off tha hook! Ye’re still goina go theyah an they’s gonna make you’s wish y’all had been killed!” He stomped off, less confident than before, and I laid my head on my hooves again, waiting for the slavers to arrive.

I spared a thought or two to Victory Charm. The only pony I’d ever gotten even vaguely close to, and with one fell swoop, she’d decided to leave me behind to a fate far worse than just getting a bullet to the brain. Olive Loaf, the darkest stain from my past- at least that I could think of at the moment- was getting the justice he’d long deserved. My own persona was broken- I had laid bare the real pony underneath my attempt to harden myself against the wasteland. I wasn’t some hardened mercenary. I’d done horrible things, sure. Slavery, murder, theft- all of the things the wasteland promoted and thrived on. But I didn’t enjoy doing them. I wasn’t a raider.. I was just... a pony. A terrible, heartless, jaded pony, who had pushed everypony away because I was too weak to resist the pull of the wasteland.

I wasn’t being strong by letting the wasteland win.

I was being weak.

And now, it was time to pay for my weakness.

*************************************************************************************************

As I heard more whispers, raspier and angrier, I knew the Rust Horde ponies had already arrived. I did not shed a tear; I did not scream and bang on the bars in an attempt to plead for freedom. I wasn’t angry, or even .. well, no, that was a lie. I was terrified. Fear was almost all I could feel, but I wasn’t going to show it. Let me be afraid.

I’m sure Olive Loaf was even more terrified than I was when I stabbed him in the back.

It had been five years since we had met in Goatsprings. Such a stupid name for a town, I’d always thought, but never let myself mention it. Ponies aren’t likely to give you any extra caps when you insult their hometown. I had met with a greasy lout named Olive Loaf, who I knew by his absolutely unnaturally orange mane and drab, contrasting coat. I didn’t trust him- nopony could be trusted in the wasteland, after all- but I knew he could smooth talk ponies far better than I could. The contract was simple- capture a murderer, and sell him to the slavers. 500 caps for each of us, plus a bonus of 3000 if he was brought in alive. “Want to make him suffer” they’d said, “Killed one of our ponies. Alive is better. Justice is worth some, but not as much.” I wasn’t going to complain;more caps, and I could easily keep somepony alive and unconscious. I even bought a special rifle for it- tranquilizers enough to knock a Hellhound out cold with only two darts.

We met in the town around midnight, formulating the plan- Olive’d talk to the murderer and convince him to go behind the saloon, and I’d unload some darts into the poor sod and cart him over to the slavers. Exchange of caps, and we were good to go.

I waited out back for the murderer and the slimy snake unicorn to come out back. Five minutes turned to ten, and ten turned to half an hour. I finally grew impatient, went into the bar through the back door, and looked around...

...Only to feel a bottle hit the back of my head. Slimy bastard didn’t expect me to be fine, if pissed off, and buck him right into the murderer, who was poised to stab me with a kitchen knife. When he saw he was outmatched, he did the first thing that popped into his head and shot the murderer in the forehead, As the murderer slumped to the ground, the saloon ponies screaming into the night, I cornered the Olive-coated prick and demanded to know why he hit me.

“T-The bastahd tol’ me I had ta smack ya or he’d kill me! Y’have ta believe me, buddy! Ol buddy?” I stamped closer. “...Ol pal?”

Fwip. Fwip.

He fell like a sack of potatoes, flopping over unconscious. Damn fine magical poison, that was. I dragged the bastard and the murderer out, travelling about a mile with two ponies on my back, and met the slavers. I tossed the corpse of the murderer at them (they spat on him for good measure) and I brokered a deal. I’d sell them another slave for 1,500 caps, plus the cost of the dead serial killer. They agreed, just in time for Olive Loaf to awaken from his stupor. I grunted and kicked him, right in the nose, sending blood dripping down his nose as the slavers tried to pin him down. I watched him, crying, and sobbing, and pleading for forgiveness and begging me to save him. In response, I tossed the sack of caps into my pack and turned back on him, hearing the click and the telltale beep of a bomb collar. I looked back at him, delivered my coldest stare, and gave him the most stinging sendoff I could.

“Goodbye Olive Loaf. maybe next time you try to stab somepony in the back, you’ll... well, to be honest, you’ll probably lose your head.” And with that, I trotted away, hearing him sobbing as he was dragged to his new, self-made hell.

I made 2000 caps off that transaction, got rid of a thorn in my side, fulfilled the contract, and moved on. I never really thought of the slimy fucker again, until i found him holding a gun to my throat. I never really had felt bad until this moment- before it had just seemed like a fair retaliation, an eye for an eye.

And now, I knew exactly how he’d felt.

I kept my head down as the slaver looked me over. Rust Horde were easy to place- hoofball pads, adorned with rusted knives (they rusted them on purpose to give anypony unlucky enough to face them a wicket case of tetanus) and cruelly-shod spiked horseshoes. I knew what they did to ponies- most things so vile even I had balked when I heard of them- but I also knew what they did to slaves. Slaves in most places were treated well enough to keep them servile, and capable of working. More efficient workers if they were in decent shape.

Rust Horders weren’t quite that generous.

If a slave underperformed, they were forced to work with rusty nails driven into their hooves. For each mistake, another nail was driven in, and they were forced to work through the pain. Unicorns and the unlucky Enclave who got caught had their horns and wings sawn off with a rusty bonesaw, bandaged enough to keep them from bleeding out, and sent to work immediately. If they got fed they were lucky- most slaves were forced to work while starving, dehydrated, and exhausted. If somepony died, they were strung up with rusty implements everywhere they could fit, and showcased to teach other slaves what would happen if they fucked up.

And all of that was what was going to happen to me, because I’d sold a back-stabbing, two-timing no-good-yellow-bellied son-of-a-bitch to a couple random assholes.

But that was fine.

I’d done this to myself, after all.

Only fai-

A massive explosion wracked the town, and half of the town hall was torn apart. Splinters rained down, and the Rust Horde warrior grinned wide, speaking in a ragged voice. “DON’T WORRY, I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU SOON! AHAHA!” and he ran out, drawing a massive sword into his teeth with a wicked, rust-marred blade. I looked around, in my cage, and sighed. I buckled down,tucking hooves under my torso, closing my eyes and waited for my just desserts in the last peaceful moments I’d ever have,

Only to hear the sound of the cage lock clicking.

I stood, head held high, waiting to be dragged to my atonement... and was astonished to see Victory Charm with a key in her teeth. I must have looked surprised, because she spat out the key and smiled.

“Come on now. You didn’t really think I’d go turncoat, did you? Come on. We need to get out while they’re distracted.” She pushed her head under my hoof, helping me to my hooves out from the cage, and I felt my guts twist in conflicted confusion and relief. She helped me limp out of the cage, and put a pistol in my teeth, prompting me to lick the trigger. It tasted like whisky.

She and I slowly snuck out of the hole in the wall, trying to stay in the darkness while the Rust Horde ponies fought tooth, hoof and blade with the slavers and ne’er-do-wells of the town. One unicorn blew the head off of a Ruster with a sawn-off, only to have their throat sliced messily with a spray of crimson; another Ruster stomped the back of the head of a grey-maned grey-furred earth pony who was biting a wooden step, teeth shattering and the life leaving his eyes with a sickening crunch; and still another slaver with a scarf around her neck was brutally impaled on a rusted, sadistically-spiked helmet, the horn of the Ruster glowing and causing the chest to expand till chunks flew all over the Ruster’s barding, his grin spread in sadistic glee.

We trotted as quickly as we could, until a Ruster saw us, aiming a pony repeater with his magic while he wrenched the jaw of an unlucky earth pony so wide it snapped, prompting a gurgling scream before his neck was snapped and he was dead as dust. The Ruster started operating the lever and trigger as fast as he could, and I found myself throwing victory into the trees and diving in behind with her in a burst of adrenaline. The tree splintered but did not give, peppered by .357 rounds that left it smoking. The two of us braced ourselves, and I turned around the corner- weakened and tired, I pulled the trigger no less than 4 times, missing him completely. The fifth, however, tore into the Ruster’s face, leaving a gaping hole where his cheekbone would’ve been. To my horror, though, he just screamed and ran at us. I saw Victory Charm charging a magical blast, and I hunkered behind the tree just as the Ruster got point-blank and was torn to shreds by the massive explosion of raw magical energy. His bones turned to ash before my eyes, and the ruster was gone.

Unfortunately, now the others knew where we were. And Victory looked absolutely exhausted; no chance of another miraculous nuking. Before I knew it, a hail of gunfire was coming our way, and as one bullet passed cleanly through her left hoof (passing through and prompting a scream), I felt that fury and rage overcome me, granting me the temporary strength to pick her up and gallop at full tilt into the night. Bullets continued to rain after us- one bit into the same leg that’d been shot by Olive before, and I fought back a roar as I dragged my weak, worthless leg behind me as I charged into the old broken-down gas station at the end of the road. I pushed the door open, already feeling myself come down from the anger high, and only had enough time to put her down and weakly buck a little waiting table into the door, jamming it shut before blackness began to creep into the corners of my perception. As pain and unconsciousness took me, I only had a single thought- Victory, please. Stay safe. And i collapsed, out cold for the fourth time that day.

**********************************************************************************************

Every corpse screamed, and were joined by an olive-coloured pony with a sickly orange glow around their eyes. The screams unified as the corpses melted, forming a massive, putrid, disgusting wave of skin, fur and teeth screaming in an unholy voice so powerful that Tartarus itself shook as the wave consumed the Ivory-and-Rust being, his own vocal chords fused with the beast as his screams joined their own.

Mother. A difficult pony. He was sure she loved him- even if she refused to acknowledge it- but she had a strange way of showing it. Every day, she beat him; “Have to toughen up” she would say. “Weakness has no place in the wastes” she would scream. “Your father wasn’t strong!” would be the phrase she used the least- partially out of grief, and partially because every time she did, her rage and punishing blows would give way to a pitiful sobbing and holding her son close. He was sure she loved him.

But he could no longer feel love for her.

Slow. Nice and slow. I woke up slowly; there were no screams; there was no banging at the door; no explosions; a dull throbbing in my head, and a screaming one in my leg, and a soft pain everywhere else, but not dead. If anything the pain made that the clearest- I was still alive, by some miracle. Celestia and Luna, thank you for keeping me.. I startled fully awake when I realized I’d almost forgotten Victory, but a caring hoof forced my head back down. It held a bottle of red liquid to my lips, and I drank greedily. All at once, I felt my head throb more softly, and my leg’s pain slow. It wasn’t a healing potion; but a strong brandy, which I was not in the mood to turn away from. I hugged the bottle and the hoof eagerly, gulping down as much as I could before it was ripped away from me.

Victory smiled wearily down at me. “Don’t drink it all; I need you at least a little awake when we do this.” Softly, gently, she laid me back, and I watched her move to my burning hoof. She held a pair of tweezers, and I felt myself lurch from nerves- even still, she pinned me down, a soft shushing from her lips as she held me down and the brandy started to do its work on my pain receptors. She looked into my eyes, and I found myself captivated by them again- I didn’t like mares, but her eyes were so beautiful I couldn-

“OW!” I felt the tweezer enter my leg, and grit my teeth against the long line of swear words I was inclined toward. She pinned my chest (was she that strong or was I that weak?) as she pulled on the bullet, my hoof blossoming in pain as the second wound was forced open. I felt blood dripping down my leg, and as she tossed it aside, the tweezer in the cleft of her own hoof, she took the brandy, and held it up.

“I’m sorry. But this... is going to suck.”

Oh goddesses it really was wasn’t it? She poured a generous amount of brandy into the wounds, the burning alcohol like somepony were putting a hot poker into the already deep gaps in my skin. I knew it would purify it, but OWWWWWWWW! She poured the last of the brandy into the wound, and pulled out a cloth from her tail, holding it down on the leg. “Here. I need you to put pressure on this. Now.” I wasn’t in the mood to argue, especially not with her, and I pushed it hard onto the wound; the throbbing pain was still nearly unbearable, but as she pulled out a bottle of strong healing potion from her tail-hidden saddlebags, and she put it up to my lips forcing me to drink. I drank down the potion, coppery and lukewarm, and didn’t stop until it was completely and utterly empty. I felt the skin and nerves of my poor leg stitching themselves shut, not with pain but with a soft warmth like hugging a pillow under a heat lamp.

I panted hard from the stimulation, and my vision went blurry again. “Aah.. c-can’t... “ and felt the blood loss drag me back under the waves of sleep.

**************************************************************************************

Mercifully, this time my dreams weren’t full of painful memories or terrifying screams. In fact, I must have been even deeper out, because I did not dream once. I remembered my eyes fluttering open once or twice- emerald eyes, concerned and brimming with worry, regarded me, and I felt what I was pretty sure was a smile as my eyes drifted closed again.

Hours. Hours, days, months, it could have... well, okay, not months. A day at most or so. When my eyes finally opened completely, enough blood reproduced by my body to keep me awake, I saw Victory Charm gallop over to me. “Hey there sleepy head. Finally awake? Good.” a sigh. “Goddesses, you had me w-”

I wrapped my forelegs around her tightly, and buried my head into her chest. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, so, unbelievably, unendingly sorry!” I felt the burning shame in my chest, and as I gripped her tightly, the only pony I’d ever let get this close (that I wasn’t paying for), and felt years and years of guilt and shame flood me. I expected her to shove me away- it would have been right for her to- but instead, she seemed grateful I was alive. “C-celestia alive, please don’t leave!” I was making a foal of myself, but I didn’t care- I couldn’t let her slip away from me again. “I need you! You’re the only pony who’s ever made me feel anything, please, I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything, I promise, I’ll never be a bad pony again!”

Her voice was soft, the same soft tone she’d given me that first night when I retched out of disgust, or earlier when I had passed out from the pain. “I won’t. I won’t Blood Drop. I won’t leave you.” I tried to grit my teeth, to keep the floodgates from opening; showing the weakness the wasteland.. I mentally bucked myself full force. What weakness? The weakness that could have saved a pony from slavery? A weakness that had let me save a pony who I barely knew? I tried, and I wanted so badly to retreat under the mask of safe, angry and cold indifference. I wanted it, it was safe. But that mask was what had robbed her of being able to say she’d never killed, or ignored Olive’s pleas as he was taken for a doomed life of servitude. The more I thought about it, all of the pain I’d caused ponies because I thought that was what I was supposed to do, bore down on me like an anvil and chains, and I did the only thing I knew to do.

I broke down.

It was shameful. A pathetic display- a rust-maned, ivory-coated earth pony, normally so tough and ready to take on the wasteland, was sobbing and choking like a foal. Tears streamed down my cheeks in rivers, my nose leaked disgusting mucous into her chest fur, and my body heaved and shook, wracked by grief and guilt. I sobbed, like I had made her cry the day or two days before when I’d screamed at her to give up her innocence. I pleaded, like the Olive pony pleaded for his life when the slavers dragged him away. I ached, like I had when I had ripped apart a raider to save a unicorn I’d never seen before. I cried for everything I’d done; I cried for every kindness I’d spurned; I cried for every emotion I’d suppressed; and in the end, I cried because I needed to.

And in this moment, for these... minutes or hours that fear, and terror, and self-loathing coursed through me, dripping from my eyes and wrenching my heart, I was in the caring arms of a pony I’d only known for a grand total of three days. The pony who’s life I’d saved; who I’d cursed at, and screamed at; who despite barely knowing her, had assumed the worst of; a pony I had put to tears; a pony who had saved my life; a pony who I had gotten shot for; and the pony who was the catalyst for a massive shift in who I was.

She took it in stride, my little breakdown- alright, my MASSIVE breakdown. Despite my choking and sobbing, completely ruining her coat, she still held me tightly, and I felt safe despite not feeling like I deserved to. Every time I pleaded, every time I grasped and begged, she would stroke my mane and assure me it was going to be alright, and that she wasn’t going to go anywhere. Every apology was answered with a gentle caress. It seemed like forever, and I had peeled off the callous on my heart, leaving it bleeding and raw. Eventually, though it felt like an eternity, my sobbing silenced; my choking ceased; my tears ran dry; and my hooves and forelegs released their death-grip on my chosen savior. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she tucked my head under hers, holding me close against the wall, and the two of us simply slept.

***********************************************************************************************

We stayed in the small gas station for a few days while we rested and recuperated. There was an un-found stash of canned food and bottled, pure water deeper in the store, and we were able to eat and drink comfortably as we healed. My leg had mended, but the gaps in my coat were not closing. The way things were, I figured it was good that it scarred- I figured that a scar on my leg would be a good reminder of what I’d been through so far. A second night, we sat together and ate a few cans of old beans, and I had built a small fire (with a cracked window so we didn’t suffocate). As we sat in silence, I looked at the mare sitting across the fire, and said simply, “Thank you.”

“For whaf?” she muttered around a spoonful of beans.

“If I hadn’t saved you, I would never have been in that place. If I hadn’t... screamed... at you... we wouldn’t have gotten drunk.” She looked at me with pity as I continued. “If... we hadn’t been drunk, I never would have gotten kidnapped by Olive Loaf. And if he hadn’t captured me... I would never have known the despair he had to deal with. You...” I struggled to find the words, my vocal chords refusing to let me have this easy. “...you’re making me... a bit better. Of a pony, I mean.” I looked down, ashamed again at my own inability to be sincere.

She trotted over to me, and sling a forehoof over me, hugging me tight. “You know I never meant ... mmmmmmmmost of the things I said there right? I had to convince them I was turning on you. I... I WAS angry, yknow. I was very angry. But after learning what he did to you, I ... well, I can’t understand it but..” She looked irritated as she dug the hole deeper, but hugged me tightly again. “I just want you to know, I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’ve been a good pony out here, but... I get the feeling it was a defense. Just... please, Blood dr-”

“No! I uh...” I looked sheepish. “My name ... erm... well, you’ll laugh.”

She shook her head. “I’ll try my best.”

“Blood Drop isn’t my actual name. My birth name....”

Victory encouraged “Is?”

“...Sugar Drop.”

***********************************************************************************************

*

Level Up: Ain’t Like That Now- You’ve been a very bad pony in the past, but you ain’t like that now. Your Karma has been reset to 0, but your deeds will still haunt you...

((Full disclosure, I’ve never submitted a story before; this is my first, and it would be much appreciated to receive some feedback so I can improve. So if you like it, let me know! If not, be constructive if you would, please! I can’t exactly get worse! I can’t grow without advice.))

Chapter 3: ...A Slave Obeys

Chapter 3: ...A Slave Obeys

Victory Charm bit back a snicker.: “Sugar Drop? That’s...”

I hung my head. “Go ahead and laugh.”

She hugged me tighter ruffling my mane with a hoof. “Oh my goddesses it’s adorable!”

A hot blush shone through my cheek fur and a perturbed look chiseled itself into my face. Which only made her full on burst in laughter.

“A... aha... ah goddesses, I’m sorry, but first you tell me the edgiest name in the wastes and then you tell me it’s something sweet like Sugar Drop.... Oh don’t be mad at me, it’s cute! But...” she paused, trying to figure out the classiest way to say it. “..Why Blood Drop? A little over-the-top isn’t it?”

“Well, you said it yourself. Sugar Drop is... “ I grumbled “cute” under my breath. “And... my mother was very strongly opposed to it. Thought... nopony would take me seriously with a name like... ugh... Sugar Drop.” I blushed hotter and grumbled more. I felt more and more like a stupid foal, bitching about a name “ ‘cuz it’s girly’ “

To this, she patted my back. “Don’t worry- Suuuuugar Drooooop- I won’t tell a soul. Buuuut I’m not going to let you live it down, either!” She chuckled and gave me a playful nudge, and I found myself smiling a little. I looked at my flank-a single drop of a red liquid falling into a cup full of it- and found myself staring at it for a good five minutes.

Mother, a difficult, cruel pony. Sugar Drop, a sweet innocent little foal, screaming and crying as a tattoo gun coloured in the clear drop and liquid of his cutie mark with a deep, blood-shaded crimson. Mother, smoking and watching dismissively. “It’s for your own good.”

Victory saw me deep in thought, and asked, “Is your mother also the one who painted that cutie mark? Red isn’t a very natural colour for sugar water.”

Well... “It wasn’t supposed to be sugar water. It was supposed to be a drop of pure, clean water falling into a cup full of it. I got the cutie mark when we were scavenging with my father, and I happened upon a water spigot. He told me it wouldn’t run, and as I turned the lever, it didn’t- until I kicked it juuuust right, and beautiful, clean spring water flowed freely from it. One flash later and my cutie mark showed- my father said it... said the water tasted sweet, sweet as the purest sugar.” I found myself looking at it intently, as she looked down at her hooves. This time I was the one who patted her back in return. “Hey. I’m fine with it. I got used to it years ago- blood is more... intimidating for the wasteland. Never did find trouble getting water while I traveled the wastes.” I glanced at her flank as well, wondering why I’d never noticed it; a mandala, adorned with gemstones and an eye in the center. “Evil eye amulet, huh?”

She looked at me confused. “How did you...”

“Mother and I lived with a commune of mystics while she got back on her hooves.” I snorted dismissively. “Not that she ever did, drunk old cunt. But, they all wore those around their necks. Said it would ‘scare away evil beings’ and ‘prevent the evil eye from stealing from a pony’ or something.stupid like that.” I saw a look cross her face, one of irritation, but I wasn’t sure if it was the “something stupid” line or the “old cunt” line.

“They may not work, but they’re not stupid. Anything that gives a pony hope or confidence is a good thing in my book. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter. What matters it what it means to the ponies who prize them. Hay, I got mine from my aunt, who let me look at a mandala. I .. learned how to make one. I reproduced a very, very old mandela from a book; family said it required an impossible amount of crafting prowess. The second I was done, it showed. Not that it did us any good...” she trailed off, and I immediately felt like shit.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it like that...”

“I know you didn’t.,” she sighed miserably, and my heart drooped. “But, yknow, I’m inclined to believe you’re right. It certainly didn’t stop...” a deep, ragged breath. “...Didn’t keep the raiders away, now did it?”

I mustered my courage, and countered with an “Oh what do I know, my name is Sugar Drop for Celestia’s sake.” I gave her the most good-natured smile I could, and she returned it with a relieved sigh. “‘Sides, it kept YOU alive, didn’t it? You’re still here. Maybe it IS good luck, and I’m just an asshole. Sound about right?”

“Sounds about right,” she breathed, and gave me a gentle one-hoofed buck in the arm. It stung, still, from exhaustion, but I chuckled and rubbed it pretending it was far worse than it was.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, allowing the warmth of the fire to soothe our aching muscles, before I spoke again.

“Victory?”

“Please. Charm will be fine.”

“Charm..” I looked at her, and I knew as she recoiled a little I was putting my all into my warning- “I’m not a good pony. I never have been, and it’s likely I never will be, not completely.” She eased a little, muscles visibly relaxing as I continued. “I have done things in my life in the wastes. Mostly to other ponies.” I felt my old cynicism leaking into my voice, making it harder edged. “Most of them aren’t as bad as selling a pony into slavery, but...” I gulped hard, and made sure my voice was steady and confident. “You may learn things about me that will make today look like Celestia herself had swept you into the heavens. And you may think of me in the worst way, worse than raiders, worse than Rusters. Or perhaps, you won’t. But above all, I need you to promise me something.”

She gulped as well, and replied with a tentative “Yes?”

“I need you to promise that if I step out of line, you will buck me back into it. You are the only pony I’ve ever met that made me want to be... in a word, better.” I sighed softly, the tension in my own muscles releasing. “It will be a long road, and it won’t be easy. But you might be the only pony in the wastes that can help me. I need you to promise that you won’t hesitate. And if you do end up hating me... at least make sure to break me before you go.”

“Sugar...”

“Promise.”

“Dr-”

“PROMISE!” I stamped my hoof hard enough the entire shack shook, and she made a firm, resolute nod.

“I promise I will help make you a better pony. But only in return for one thing.”

I was taken aback, but desperation tinged my voice as I replied “Anything.”

A fire glowed in her eyes, emerald green and stark as the rays of a laser rifle.

“You have to promise to make me stronger.”

I blinked, and replied with a flat “What?”

“I want to protect and help the ponies in the wastes, Sugar Drop, and I can’t do that. Not like I am. I lived all of my life sheltered, in a safe home that was ripped from my hooves forever. I never fired a gun until three days ago” (THAT answered my question.) “and had never... t.. Taken a life until you pushed me to it. I am NOT, and I repeat NOT saying that was right; you made me murder an unconscious, random pony, and that will never go away.” I sat stone-still and took the blow to my heart as it sank with regret- just one more thing to atone for. I nodded, and her voice lost its razor sharp tone as she continued. “But, I’m not stupid. I’m not stupid, and I’m not weak. I know the wastes are a hard place to live, and that ponies who refuse to fire a gun or defend themselves die. I will NOT,” a stomp, not quite enough to shake anything but a shelf which dropped a jar which miraculously did not shatter, “Become one of those stinking corpses half-buried in the Ponjave sand. I’ll make you a better pony, Sugar Drop, and I’ll do my damndest to see you redeem whatever sins you’ve committed in the wastes. But in return, you will teach me how not to be a victim ever. Again.”

I had only once seen her this fired up- I recalled the look in her eyes as she smacked the bars of my cage, bringing pain down upon me for the situation I got us in, and I saw it now- underneath the playful, almost... matronly personality I saw in her, the one that made me want to keep her safe the most, was a heart of vengeful dragonfire, wanting to lash out in retaliation against a cruel world that had robbed her of everything- her life, her innocence, her family, friends, home, even the magic that made her unique. I saw the rage, the complete and utter fury, burning in the crimson-orange light of the burning fire, and I knew this was not just some..half-hearted confession of vice.

She was not just making me promise to keep her strong. She was making a declaration that she would NOT fall prey to the wastes again.

I thought for a moment, and stood. She regarded me with confusion as I slammed a hoof down on the mason jar, shattering it into long jagged pieces of glass. I took the piece (careful not to cut my tongue), and turned to face her as she looked ready to swing if need be. To that end, I took the glass, brought it to the fire, and sat down across from her.

And putting the glass to the softest part of my hoof, I pressed it against the flesh and drew the glass through my skin, wincing as it separated.

Blood immediately seeped from the wound, and I looked her dead in the face, my cobalt blue eyes showcasing the exact same fire she had just displayed, as I tossed the glass to her.

She looked at it, and I expected a “what?” or an “are you sure?” or even a “what the hell is wrong with you?”; to my surprise, she herself took the glass in her teeth and sliced open her own hoof, matching me.

She held hers out to me, over the rising smoke, and I returned the gesture, her hoof pressing to mine. We allowed the solemn silence to fill the cabin like so much air, and as our blood mixed, we both held up our opposite hooves and swore.

“Cross my heart... hope to fly... stick a cupcake in my eye.”

A second passed, and we found ourselves laughing at our own solemnity. Even still, somewhere in the heavens a bright pink earth pony smiled, giving her blessing to our pact, a promise never to be broken.

********************************************************************************************************

After another day’s rest, and a gathering of the supplies we had left, we decided to set out again in earnest. I was determined to get her to Tenpony- explosive magic was nice, but I couldn’t imagine how it would have felt to lose a horn. We ignored the gas, and the doused campfire we didn’t notice on the way out, and as we left I tossed my mane back out of my eyes. Suddenly, a thought came to mind, and my eyebrows fell so far they felt like they’d hit my hooves.

“Uh...Victory?”

“Vic. Please. It’s the least I can do considering.”

I smiled at that. “Okay, Vic. Uhm... where’s my gun?”

Her look told me all I needed to know. Now, despite being fully stocked with food and water... we had no weapons. And I figured she was only good for a few blasts of magic. I had had a countless number of caps and ammunition in my original saddlebags, but those were long gone- so, too, I suspected, was the town we’d left them in. So...

“Damn.”

Vic’s ears perked. “What?”

I counted the rounds in the ten mil’s clip, and sighed. “I only have 14 shots. Must have been modified to have as many as it did. So in short, we’re screwed. How many shots you good for?”

“Four, five if I nap.”

The Ponjave desert had a massive network of trade wagons, usually owned by individual ponies with the mindset befitting of an entrepreneur. That being said, the largest of the groups selling their wares across the Ponjave was the “Crimson Caravan”, a team of all-red ponies who banded together and thought it would be a good idea to start a caravan company. Fortunately for them (and unfortunately for everyone else) the Crimson Caravan ponies were extraordinarily cutthroat about their business- literally if it came to that- and essentially monopolized all of the trade routes here. Their trade caravans were always on time, and luckily for us, I knew the next shipment. I told her as much, and then she shook me from my plotting with a very, very simple problem.

“Um, we don’t have any caps?”

I blinked. “YOU don’t have any caps?”

She danced from side to side, from one hoof to the other. “Nnnno? I spent it all on uhm... brandy and healing potions.”

I’d never facehoofed so hard in my life. “Alright, well, we have to scavenge some. You seem like you’re very skilled with scavenging- any ideas?’

“What’s in the area?”

“Well.. there’s Repcolt far to the east, but that has a number of pissy robots with energy weapons... Novac to the southeast, but any job they have will likely require ammunition we don’t have... “

“Novac?”

“Novac is this... old, crappy resort along the I-63. The sign got damaged, and now instead of No Vacancy, it’s just No Vac. Novac. The mare there, Hospitality, is pretty attached to the place, and there’s usually some issue people need solved. But we don’t have any caps to buy ammunition, and need ammunition to get caps.”

“Well, we’re bucked either way. Let’s go there- perhaps we’ll stumble across something to pawn for a few bullets.” I nodded, but before I could begin trotting, she stated in a stern voice “As long as you know we won’t be shooting any ponies unless they shoot first.”

I stopped in my tracks, twitching like I’d been hit. “I... suppose that’s fine. But if they shoot us...”

“Then self defense is fine. Cold-blooded murder isn’t.” She stated matter of factly, and I kicked some sand. “We’ll be fine.” Her hoof nudged my shoulder, and I gave her a smile. “I’m sure of it. Just try not to shoot first, ask questions later, alright?”

“Alright. I’ll do as you ask.” I smiled a wry, cruel smile. “But if they shoot at us, especially at you, Blood Drop is who they’ll have the misfortune of meeting.”

********************************************************************************************************

The short trot to Novac was almost entirely uneventful. I was mildly disappointed at that- I’d had a bad few days, and could use some target practice. I scolded myself for thinking that way- that wasn’t going to make me any better- but the thought still lingered far longer than it should have. As we drew near, a massive, cartoonish dragon loomed over the horizon even in the near blinding sunlight. A scant few buildings, mostly in fine condition, were contained within a perimeter of tattered chain link fences. We stepped up to the front gate in record time, and smiled as we were introduced to the town by a dress-clad magenta coated, slightly unicorn with the neatest-kept auburn mane I’d ever beheld.

“Hello, Hospitality,” I greeted the gorgeous mare with my most pleasant disposition, a fake smile spreading accross my muzzle.

Her response was like antifreeze- sweet, but toxic. “Hello, Blood Drop. How are YOU doing today.”

“Oh I’m just delightful. And yourself?”

“Likewise,” she said through barely-hidden grit teeth. “May I ask what you’re doing in our fine town?”

“We...”

Victory interrupted me, voice light and bubbly. “..Could use some supplies!” She offered a hoof, and it was shaken with great enthusiasm. “I don’t suppose this gorgeous town has a commissary we could spend our caps on?”

At the mention of caps, her face lit up. “Why of COURSE we do, my dear, you just go right back into the big dragon and talk to Coin Flip, he’ll help you out. And tell him Hospitality sent you!” She shot me a dirty look. “YOU can wait outside.”

We glanced at each other, and she went inside, disappearing inside the great stone-hewn tourist trap, as I set my plot down on the sand, crossing my forelegs impatiently.

“Oh don’t you give me that,” she spat at me the instant my companion was out of earshot. “You’re lucky I didn’t have Bon Mott shoot you the second he saw you.”

“Yeah? And who would have looked bad at that, popping a pony’s head who could give you caps?”

“Do you even HAVE caps?”

“...No. That’s what Victory Charm there is here for.”

To this she groaned and rolled her eyes. “Of course. You bring in a sweet, nice pony just to use her for cap gathering duty.” I shot her a death glare and her eyes went wide. “No.. You... are you serious? You? And HER?”

“No, not ‘me and her’, we met on the road and I’m escorting her to Tenpony. No more, no less, but you’d best keep your muzzle shut before I smack that look right off your face.” There was the snarling mercenary I remembered. Wait...

“Alright, alright, fine. But listen, you do anything to that poor mare and I’ll make sure Bon Mott turns your skull into chunky salsa!”

“Whatever, Hospitality. Go back to keeping your town’s citizens in this shitty excuse for a town.”

Hospitality bristled, turning around and going back into the dark confines of her office. I looked around the dingy town and leaned back against the building, feeling the slightest pang of guilt. I suppose it’s not.... Too bad. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell HER that. Something about Hospitality had always bothered me- she didn’t carry herself like a mayor, or an entrepreneur. She carried herself like a card shark, always looking to manipulate the odds in her favor- and her wallet’s favor, too. I wondered why she tolerated me being here- I clearly wasn’t falling for it, and I had no physical attraction to the mare who owned the town- but I paid well for their supplies, and that seemed to be enough. I wouldn’t deny she was beautiful- I didn’t need to lust after her to see that- but my own preferences rendered me immune to her wiles and charm.

Too bad I had no “wiles and charm” of myself.

I thought back to the first time meeting Hospitality, the sultry tone she used towards me when I asked what work there was to be done. I’d been lacking in caps the few months before, and found myself in Novac when chasing a mark I’d been yet to be paid for. The pony, a resident of the town, ducked into the fences and I came to learn they were sleeping in one of the free rooms given to wayward travellers. I had asked for work- a useful cover, I’d found- and she was as saccharin and seductive as possible when trying to convince me to do something for her for free. When I reeled, and snapped at her to stop trying to seduce me out of a few caps to spruce up her worthless town, she immediately switched to anger and bucked me out. Not only did I lose the caps I needed for a few more supplies, I had to wait a solid day for her to finally relent and let me in. Of course, I was strapped for caps, which made her none to happy, and she tried to get rid of me again only to be talked out of it by...

“HEY!” I felt a hoof hit the small of my back, and coughed as Hospitality’s older brother, Geniality, startled me out of my thoughts. “Been forever since we saw you around here! What in the hay are you doing here this time of year?”

I permitted a broad grin to spread across my face, and clapped him back on the shoulder as hard as I could. Geniality was a massive, massive pony easily two feet or more above my height and possessed of stout build uncommon of most unicorns. Burnt sienna fur and a short-cut crimson mane made him easy to see from halfway across the Ponjave, and his gentle blue eyes somehow kept his massive size from being the least bit intimidating. His Cutie Mark, a heart-shaped bed with white pillows galore, made it abundantly clear why he was so genial. ESPECIALLY to me. “Oh, just passing through with a new... friend.”

His eyes lit up and he gasped the most cartoonish gasp I’d ever seen. “Frieeeeeend? Is he nice?”

I rolled my eyes. “She, Geniality, she. Just a friend. Just that.”

He chuckled deeply, smacking me again knocking the air from my lungs with an “oof”. “Well damn! Had me worried you were changing teams, old buddy!”

Old buddy, he said. When his sister had tried to kick me from the town, he had opened up his bed to me- with aaaall of the perks that came with it- and convinced Hospitality to give me a little slack. Of course, that was likely because I threatened I’d make him whinny so loud everyone would bust down her door with complaints, which I very nearly did just to spite her.

Lot more than buddies and claps on the back that night.

Victory finally trotted out of the dragon’s belly, carrying a whole bag of supplies the size of which completely shocked me. She dropped it next to me, and smiled- “Is this enough?” She regarded Geniality with a sweet smile, and added “And who is this?”

Geniality clapped her on the back same as he had me- whilst I sat solid, she was sent almost flying with her muzzle burying in the sand, as Geniality gasped yet again and picked her up with a single hoof, her head swimming. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. I don’t know my own strength! I’m Geniality, Hospitality’s big brother. And you must be...”

She shook her head hard and replied “Victory. Victory Charm. Nice to meet you! Don’t worry, I can take it,” she was lying and as he stood and beamed her eyes were spinning.

“Well! A friend of Blood here is a friend of mine! If you all need a bed for the night...” he gave a knowing wink, “...Just let me know.” He turned around, giving Victory a good look at his cutie mark, and trotted primly up the stairs of the hotel.

“Wow.” Victory’s blue coat had turned a vibrant purple around her muzzle, and her lip started quivering. “Friend of yours?”

“Yeah. Bedmate a while back. Didn’t think his door swung both ways.” I looked at her , eyes trained on the door, clearly smitten, and snickered. “Come on, eyes on the prize, Vic. What’d you get from Coin Flip?” I paused. “And how the hell did you manage THAT!” I added, gesturing to the massive pack of ... whatever it was.

She shook herself of her trance, and spread the bag. “Oh, I struck a deal with that nice old pony, he was sooooo lonely, so I spent a few minutes with him chatting. Poor thing was desperate for some company. He told me about an issue at Repcolt up the road; said some “monsters” had taken up residence there, and were occasionally giving them trouble. He said we could take care of it for some caps; I said we had no way to deal with monsters. So-” a plentiful amount of ammunition, a few firearms, and a couple of little starship-spaced bottles. “-he paid us in advance!”

“Nicely done. Now let’s get out of this worthless town before they figure ou-” her hoof struck me right in the cheek; it stung, but she clearly wasn’t trying to do damage. “..Ooooow. Alright, alright, sorry. Old habits.” she nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Thanks.”

“No problem, S... I mean, uh, Drop. Now, uhm... I do have oooone minor problem, we need to deal with before we go.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Victory, I really don’t think Geniality would let you out of bed before nightfa-”

She waved her hoof irritably. “No, no. Not that. Well..” she stared longingly at the door, and quickly amended it with “That too, but that can wait for later.”

“Then what?”

She flushed and tapped the tips of her hooves together, looking sheepish.

“What is it?” I prodded.

“I.. don’t... know how to shoot.”

********************************************************************************************************

“Okay, Vic.” I said, trotting side to side in front of our impromptu shooting range. I had arranged a few bottles and cans on a far-off intact fence, and making sure there was nopony who would get hit if a bullet went stray, I had given her the pistol (fully reloaded) and recited the basic rules of firearm safety. “What were the three things I told you.”

She tapped her chin, starting off into the sky attempting to remember. “Uhm.. one- always point the gun in a safe direction. Two, keep your tongue off the trigger unless ready to fire. And three... um...”

“C’mon, I know you can do this.” The most reassuring smile I could give, and I had to wonder if it looked as sincere as it felt.

“Only aim at things you plan to kill.” She looked uncomfortable with that one- no wonder that was the hard one to remember for her. A flashback of her killing her first pony flooded my memory, and I remembered how devastated she had been, sobbing and choking on her guilt. I wondered how badly she held that against me, but.. Again. She had to learn eventually.

“Right. Now, don’t worry about finesse right now- just focus on shooting.” I trotted over to her, and helped move her hooves into a steady position. “This stance will help resist the kickback of the gun. That peashooter you used at first- sorry- was only a .22. Tiniest caliber pistols come in, and only really effective against ponies without barding that don’t know you’re there.”

Victory nodded, and planted her hooves firmly in the sand- she was a quick study, which put my mind at ease. Guns were simple, yes, but there were many nuances only somepony who had spent most of their lives in the wastes using them for survival would know- I was pleasantly surprised that she was absorbing information as well as she was. Or at least I hoped she was.

“So um... .22 are worthless?’

“I didn’t say that- they just don’t hurt much. Anything bigger than a radroach you’re just likely to piss it off if you shoot it with one. Still, they tend to be small. Easy to slip into places that don’t allow guns. Usually the element of surprise is enough at close range to make up for their lack of stopping power.” to this, she cocked her head, and I had to grit my teeth to resist laughing. Goddesses she was adorable. “Oh, ah, stopping power is a term we use to let you know how much they kick the target back. A shotgun is a lot more likely to stop a charging raider than a nine-mil.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense. Now uh... what about the shooting part?”

I took the pistol into my teeth, and held it to her; she took it into her muzzle, letting the grip settle in her teeth, and blinked. She just got cuter as it went on! “Okay, now, when you pull the trigger it won’t take too much force- just enough to keep you from misfiring with your usual involuntary tongue movements. Don’t just flick your tongue when you fire- if you move the trigger too quickly, it will move the gun and the bullet will fly off course. Tiny changes in trajectory will have large consequences.”

“Sof whaf foo af fo?”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh that time. “Just move the trigger slow. Squeeze, don’t tug. You’re not an earth pony, so I’m warning you, your teeth might hurt a little bit. You get used to it though- better grips will hurt your teeth less. Makes it easier to aim. As it is, fire as seldom as you can- if your mouth goes numb, you’ll struggle to figure out how to tug the trigger. It won’t be a problem once we fix that horn, but until then, you’ll just have to cope.” I slowly trotted to her side, and held a hoof under the barrel of the gun helping her position it. “Okay. look down the sight. Always always always aim a little bit above what you’re aiming at at anything but point blank- gravity will pull it down. I don’t expect you to be sniping with that dinky thing, but I hope it won’t be too much of a problem at the ranges we’ll fight at in Repcolt. Okay, position the bottle right there at the tongue in the sight... make sure your knees aren’t locked, and your jaw isn’t set too tight, or you’ll overextend and hurt or pull something. Brace... aim... breeeeathe, and... tongue the trigger.” Slowly but surely, holding the gun surprisingly stable, she slowly squoze the trigger- the action was released, the primer fired, the powder detonated and her body jerked back with the recoil as the bullet ripped through the glass bottle on the post, shattering it into a hundred pieces. “Nice shot!”

Victory’s tail whipped, and she grinned around the grip beaming with pride. She took the gun in her hooves, sat back, and took her muzzle from the trigger, face split by a massive, toothy grin. “That.. wow! That felt amazing! Whoah!” I laughed, and she giggled- firing a gun for the first time was always such an exhilarating experience.

Mother, stamping her hoof. Blood Drop- or, Sugar Drop- was shaking, gums bleeding from holding the rifle too tightly. “No, no! You idiot! I said keep your jaw loose! Do you WANT to break all of your teeth? Now shoot again!” Stress made his jaw clench, and he squoze the trigger- another missed shot, and his teeth exploded with pain. Mother’s hoof smacked his head, and she sighed irritably. “Goddesses dammit, if you waste ammunition we won’t be able to afford any more! Don’t miss!” another shot, this one hitting the target- the bleeding in his gums filled his muzzle with his own blood, and he choked it down, coughing around the gun as his mother patted his back. “See? That’s much more like it. Now, try to hit it again...”

“Sugar?” I looked at Victory, her face creased with concern. “Are you alright?”

I must have zoned out while remembrance filled my brain with unpleasant feelings. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I shook my head hard, and gave her my best attempt at a “warm smile”. I didn’t feel like it was convincing. “Just remembering... something.”

She didn’t look convinced, either. “Alright, well... just... if you need to bring something up, make sure you tell me. Alright? We’re in this together, after all.”

I smiled at that. ‘In this together’. A blood-forged pact, and I smiled back at her. “I’m fine, really. I promise. Just remembering my first time shooting.”

“Oh?” she playfully punched my shoulder, and I chuckled. “Pleasant?”

“Not.. so much, no. Mother didn’t tolerate mistakes.”

A sadness crossed her eyes, and she looked at the gun in her hooves. I nudged her, and sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Let’s just focus on some more drilling. Alright? You’re pretty damn good for your first ... erm, second time firing a gun. Has a lot more kick. Doesn’t it?’

“Hay yeah...” now she was smiling too. Good. I hated seeing her upset. “...Didn’t he give us a shotgun?”

“You... sure you want to try that? They kick like a mule on Psycho.”

Her grin grew devilish. “Hells yes I want to try it! The pistol was so awesome I can’t wait to try something else!”

I chuckled, and trotted over to the bag, digging out a short-barrelled double shotgun, and tossed it over to her. I pulled out a shell, and held it out for her to see.

“Alright, this is a shell. 12-guage. Now, the thing about shotguns is that they fire in a spread...”

********************************************************************************************************

It was nearly dusk when we returned to Novac, and the entire way back to the safe confines of the fences she rubbed her jaw.

“Hey, to be fair I did warn you that shotguns kicked hard. See what happens when you bite down too hard on the grip?” Her first shot with the shotgun had nearly knocked her straight on her back, and the gun flew off on the second and buried itself in the sand. We had to dig it out- I took the chance to show her how to clean and maintain the gun- and her third gunshot had been held a little too tightly. She hadn’t bled, thank Celestia, but she was still going to be sore.

“Yeah, you did. Still, it WAS kinda cool! Aaaall the same, I think I’ll let you handle that one. Mister ‘Earth pony teeth are stronger’ .”

“Hey not my fault it’s objective fact.” I chuckled. “We can’t fly or cast spells, goddesses know we have to have SOMETHING in our favor.”

“And being able to toss stumps like nopony’s business and grow plants isn’t enough?”

“Hey, in this desert it’s a wonder ANYPONY can grow anything, even earth ponies. ‘Sides, I heard earth ponies are the ones who designed those spritebots!”

“And energy weaponry...” Her smile was wry.

“And none of it matters, at all. Now does it? World blew up, and didn’t amount to a hill of mutfruits.”

“Yeah, well,” she stated bitterly. “I don’t HAVE magic anymore, so that doesn’t amount to much either.” I smacked her in the chest, and she winced. “Hey, what gives?”

“Yes, your magic’s gone. And yet you’re still alive, kicking, and every bit as capable as I am. Besides, we’ll get to Tenpony and get it fixed. So don’t worry about it so much. Your magic didn’t make you who you were, your tenacity and resourcefulness did.”

“Wow, Drop. That... that was really sweet.” I blushed, and she chuckled.

“I uh.. Yeah. Don’t get used to it though, I’m not much of a pep talker.”

“Even so, that means a lot. Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.” she stopped for a moment, and looked up at the door- with a heart painted on it. “I uh... don’t suppose...”

I rolled my eyes, and patted her head. “Go ahead. I’ll find another place to sleep.”

“He’d probably let you sleep up there too, yknow.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Vic, dear, if you go up there and sleep in his room, you’re NOT going to be doing very much sleeping.” Her eyes went wide and her purple blush returned. “And no offense to you- and I really do mean that-but”

“You’re not into mares, yeah, yeah.” She chuckled, and stared at the door again. “I suppose I could use some more... comfortable company...” she socked my shoulder and I cringed. She looked me in the eyes, and said “Are you absolutely sure it’s okay?”

“Will you just go get laid already?” I said, my voice perhaps a little too impatient. I softened my voice a little as I reassured her. “I’ll be fine. He’s infertile, but that does NOT stop his production.Go. Have fun. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll find a comfortable cranny to sleep in and we can set out for Repcolt in the morning.”

She pulled me into a platonic hug, and I returned it as she grinned with an intense blush. “Well, okay then! I guess I’ll see you in the morning!” she hurriedly scurried up the stairs, and knocked on his door, and I turned away and chuckled as I heard Geniality’s uncomfortably sweet voice as it called “Oh, darling! Took me up on my offer? Good, let’s get you comfortable...” and the slamming of a doorway to passion.

I crawled over to one of the softer looking piles of rubble, and laid the massive sack of supplies down to try to make a sort of cushion. As I got comfortable, I immediately heard the sounds of wood against wood, and rolled my eyes with a sigh. “Sweet Luna, please let me sleep without having to hear that all night. I’ll owe ya one...” and closed my eyes, and as I zoned out the sounds of their intense session of “comfort”, sleep slowly took me.

********************************************************************************************************

I’m not sure how long it was before I woke up; when I did, though, I immediately knew something was wrong; not hard to notice, considering my hooves were bound. As the blurriness of my sleep slowly was blinked away, I looked around, and was greeted by the face of Victory, her muzzle and hooves bound tightly. I tried to speak, but found that mine was bound as well. She looked warily at the wagon we’d been laid in, and to my shock I saw Geniality pulling a wooden cart with us as the cargo. We stayed silent, looking around to try to get our bearings, before we head a familiar sweet-and-sour voice- “Ahhhh, I see our guests are awake!”

I sat straight up, and found a glowing shotgun held to my face- Hospitality looked entirely too pleased with herself. “Ah-ah-a-ahhh, don’t you move a muscle you piece of shit.” She moved the shotgun to Victory, who’s eyes filled with a mix of fear and revulsion. “I know you may not think so, but you’re worth quite a few caps..Alive, anyway. She, on the other hoof, is worthless to us. If you want your little marefriend to live, you’ll pipe down and keep your goddamned muzzle shut.” I looked at Victory, who glanced at me worriedly, and I slumped down in obedience, eyes trained on Hospitality’s. She smirked- a slimy, disgusting smirk i couldn’t stand- and continued her gloating. “And if you think my brother will help you, well... that isn’t likely, considering I’ve hopped him up on so much Jet and Psycho he’ll crush your little pony skull before you can get as far as begging to suck his cock to get free.” Hospitality spat at me, and I felt it hit my face. “I can’t believe my faggot brother fucked you of all ponies. And after I wanted to buck you out on your backside. If you weren’t so good at being a rutting post, he wouldnt’ve bothered with you, you know. Noone in this wasteland would ever carry a torch for someone like you.”

A massive bump in the road jostled Victory and I together, our heads impacting each other. We were both dazed- her horn had cut into my scalp and blood was pouring over my face. All Hospitality did was laugh.

“Oh that’s rich. You should never have insulted my town, asshole. And using the little slut there to do your deals for you? How despicable can you get!” The hypocrisy almost made me laugh- almost, as the butt of the shotgun impacted my belly and made me double over. “I’m going to sleep so well imagining the Rusters driving rusted nails into each of your hooves. I’m sure the dreams will be wet ones, too.” She closed her eyes, as if she were imagining it, and feigned a moan before sneering at us. “Oh, well look at that. Looks like we’re almost there! Lucky you. I wonder if they’ll torture both of you... hell, maybe they’ll just torture her and make you watch. A unicorn with no magic is worthless as a slave. I wonder how she’ll scream...” When did she get so fucked up? No way she went this crazy just because I said her town sucked.

As if she could read my thoughts, she suddenly began to shout. “You have any idea how much effort I’ve put into keeping my town pretty? How much bullshit I have to deal with?” Her once beautiful face contorted with a crazed fury. “It’s bad enough my brother is such a whore, and sleeps with every goddesses damned visitor to my city! I try to run a reasonable establishment, a beautiful town, and half the residents have to listen to that ... ugh... disgusting display of lust when trying to sleep! Every goddesses-be-damned night, I get another complaint about him rutting some random mare or stallion so loud nopony can sleep! And do you know what happens when somepony can’t sleep? THEY LEAVE! And then YOU!” the butt of the shotgun hit me in the neck, and i curled up tighter to defend it. “YOU came in and insulted my perfect town! Well no more! You’ll be too busy working yourself to death in the hooves of the fucking Rusters to have time to insult MY! TOWN!” She seethed, stamping her hooves with each step as she finally released years of resentment- all aimed at me. Almost all at once, her disposition turned sicklysweet again. “Make your prayers to Luna, Blood Drop. And make them loud, as loud as you can. Because they’re the last prayers you’re ever going to make!”

Two rusters, one tall with entirely too many spikes and another shorter with crackling energy shoes watched as the wagon was dragged up a short dune, Hospitality grinning sadistically and poor, sweet Geniality’s eyes completely blanked out as the Rusters stepped forward. They looked us over, seeming content, and regared Hospitality with open disgust.

“Are you ready to trade them?” The tall one drawled, sounding like their throat had a spike in it- hay, it might have.

“We have CA-AAAAAAAAPS!” the short one snarled, his voice disconcertingly high and squeaky.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready to be rid of them. Thorns in my side- well, one thorn and a worthless rose. How much am I going to get?”

The tall one answered. “You’ll get 1500 caps for the useless mare, and 5000 for the earth pony.” Five thousand caps. That was the value given to me. Clearly, Hospitality didn’t think it should have been that high to begin with.

“Really. Five thousand? For HIM? Tartarus take him, I wouldn’t have paid more than five HUNDRED! Take him and give me my caps. Let me be on my way.”

An exchange of caps, and the two of us were dragged without mercy into the desert sand. Rocks and ancient broken glass bottles dug into our skin, and we both cried out into the makeshift muzzles. We barely had time to see Hospitality waving us goodbye with the most hideous, evil glee we’d ever seen before we were thrown roughly into a cart full of refuse and slave collars. “So long, Blood Drop! Make sure you think of Novac and dream of how beautiful it was when you’re being driven to death in their slave pits!” She cackled, and in a moment, they were gone.

The short ruster looked us over, and grinned, drawing close as we lay there struggling against our bonds. “Aren’t YOU a tasty morsel! Maybe they’ll let us cut you to pieces before we go back to guard duty!” She gave a hard look at Victory, who looked like the world was going to end. “And you.. I think a few good hard sessions of getting fucked will give me a few extra foals to crush! Maybe i’ll even let you get attached to one! Think you’d like that? Oh I know you would, baby, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll have no CHOICE but to like it!”

I shot him the meanest look I could, and he gulped- yep, still got it. “And uh.. And you! We’ll use you for... for...”

“Shut up, Buzzsaw. Quit blabbering to the meat and help me get the wheels unchocked! Damn things are jammed!”

“They’re supposed to be jammed, you idiot! THEY’RE CHOCKED!” Buzzsaw trotted over and the two of them began pulling at rusty pipes, as I looked at Victory. The fear in her eyes was palpable- even still, I gently laid a hoof on her cheek in an attempt to soothe her. I was looking at her, trying to find a way to calm her, to say I cared for her and that it would be alright, when I noticed something- besides my damp muzzle, soaked with my own vitae, I looked at her forehead, and as I smelled my own blood on the binds, I got an idea. I nudged closer to her, putting the binds against the broken remnants of her horn; she looked confused, and then had a dawning realization as she helped scrape the sharp bit against the ropes. I found some degree of humor in the situation- just this evening she had complained about her shattered, useless horn, and here it was the key to our survival. I would have laughed, had I not been focused on chewing through the ropes. The second I felt the rope snap, I pulled the soaking wet binding from my muzzle, and put a hoof to my lips in the universal sign for silence. She nodded sheepishly, and I tugged at the binding on her legs- when I couldn’t budge them, I started chewing through the hemp- it tasted like swear and mildew, and it was clear she’d used much weaker ropes on Victory thinking they’d suffice. That would be a mistake that Hospitality would come to regret.

As Victory’s forehoof bindings came loose, and she began to pull at her own muzzle wrapping, I heard a sound that made my heart jump- “HEY! The meat is escaping!”

Ah buck.

I swung around, stood on my forelegs- and as the taller ruster, who had no helm to speak of, drew close, I coiled my body like a spring and bucked as hard as I could manage given my state and the rising adrenaline. Immediately he was knocked a foot back, and it took him long enough to get up that I was able to leap on him and pummel his face until he finally stopped moving. Buzzsaw moved closer, and I heard a telltale electric sound from behind him as he called “Crowbar! No! HE OWED ME FIFTY CAPS!” I hood my head under my hooves, and I heard the shocked gasp from the stout little earth pony just before I felt a rain of gore and a wave of intense heat, accompanied by an electric sound and a grunt of effort. I tried to stand up, and almost slipped in the sand- my bound hind hooves and my unbound front hooves were sufficient to let me see Victory, panting hard with sweat dripping down her forehead around the singed fur surrounding her horn. We looked at each other, and I immediately knew what to say.

“Will killing Hospitality count as self defense now?”

Victory narrowed her eyes, unravelling the ropes around her muzzle, and gave me exactly the response I was waiting for- “Considering she just tried to sell us into slavery? Over a few bad words about her town? You’re Celestia-damned right it is. Here. Help me get my hindlegs free...”

********************************************************************************************************

We galloped at full tilt towards Novac- we figured it had to be a straight shot, and we were right, as we saw the big orange dragon statue dawn over the horizon- I had taken the rusted pipe that the Rusters had been using to keep their wagon from rolling down the hill, and Victory forewent a weapon in favor of her horn, which she was immediately beginning to appreciate. As we drew near, the town was oddly quiet- all we heard was a soft sobbing in Hospitality’s office. We glanced at each other, as if asking the same question and answering each other in unison.

“Geniality!”

We counted silently, one... two... THREE! And we spinning bucked the door simultaneously; its rusted hinges barely held the door open at first, and as the door fell from its frame to the filthy floor of the office, we were greeted by a gruesome, disturbing sight- Hospitality, or what was left of her, smeared all over the concrete and tile, blood all over the room, and Geniality, soaked in what was ostensibly the remains of his own sister, crying loudly into his hooves. The only indication that it was Hospitality that was the unfortunate victim was a single remaining eye, that somehow held the greasy yet beautiful mare’s piercing gaze.

“...Considering I’ve hopped him up on so much Jet and Psycho he’ll crush your little pony skull before you can get as far as begging to suck his cock...”

Sweet Celestia and Luna’s love....

********************************************************************************************************

When we had arrived at Novac, Geniality had already come down from the drugs that his sister had used to make him a slave to her will. It took us a couple of hours to calm him down, and our suspicions were confirmed as we finally got him to recall what happened; They had returned to the office, and Hospitality had been screaming and gloating to her drug-addled older sibling, when Geniality finally lost the will to fight the Psycho and Jet coursing through his veins. As we had suspected, the same furious destruction she had warned would end us if we tried to fight back had come around to bite her in the tail, and poor, sweet, caring Geniality had, with all of his drug-fueled strength on top of his already impressive size, stomped his sister into little more than a pile of scattered viscera.

Geniality, the heir to the city now, was barely able to move when he had finished crying over the loss of his sister. Almost nothing was left of the usually warm and friendly stallion I’d just spoken to the day before- right now, in the aftermath of a horrible act of violence that we could not seem to convince him was not his fault, he was just a hollow shell of a pony, even as we finally got him up to his room, bathed, and into his heart-shaped bed. We made absolutely sure he would be alright before we left the room, and stepped out onto the balcony porch. As we sat, silent and staring into the night and trying to forget the gruesome scene we’d happened upon and the unfortunate pony who had commited it, I let out a soft sigh and looked to my travelling companion.

For as disgusting as the scene had been, Victory seemed to have taken it pretty well. I didn’t pretend to know why, though I suspected her raider-related issues had something to do with it; but I also knew that she had an inner, resolute strength that would see her through just about anything with only the slightest amount of support. I stared longingly into her eyes, and eventually she did finally take notice. She locked eyes with me, and simply asked, “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She turned to face me without craning her neck, and I found myself gazing into the sky. “Sorry for what, Sugar Drop?”

“This.” I gestured generally to the office, Novac, and the door behind me. “I’m sorry that all of this happened.”

A gentle hoof touched my shoulder, though I could not make myself look at her. “Sugar Drop... honey, this isn’t your fault.”

I sighed miserably, and countered, “How is this NOT my fault? I’m the one who dragged you here for supplies, and I’m the one who insulted” I whispered, worried that Geniality’s tears would start again if he heard the name again “Hospitalty’s town. If I hadn’t done that...”

“Sugar Drop, honestly. Yes. You hurt her feelings, you insulted a town she worked hard to create. And that wasn’t alright.. But at the same time, normal ponies don’t react to a few hurt feelings by selling ponies into slavery! Face it, Drop- Hospitality was insane. Clearly, visibly, and dangerously insane.”

“That doesn’t mean this isn’t my fault.”

She sighed, and wrapped a hoof around my back. “Sugar Drop, listen. This was her decision. She could have just grinned and beared it, but instead she allowed something small to fester into a tremendous calamity. It was her who decided to drug her brother up so he couldn’t see straight and use him to sell two ponies into slavery to the most sadistic raider clan in the Ponjave wasteland, and in the end that’s what got her killed. Her decision is what led to her own flesh and blood pummeling her into a thin red paste.” she shook her head, shooting a gaze over her shoulder to the heart-adorned door. “Her madness and stupidity is the reason that Geniality will wake up tomorrow without a sister and scarred for the rest of his life.” She turned to look me straight in the eyes. “Not yours.”

I still struggled to look her in the eyes, but I was able to hold my head up a little straighter. “I just wish there was something I could do to help him. I mean.. If he wanted to blame me for this...”

“Then that would be his prerogative- still, I seriously doubt he will. He seems too... kind to do that to somepony.”

“Even if that pony is the one that his own sister tried to sell?” I uttered under my breath, loud enough for her to hear.

“Even if that pony is the one who’s sitting here trying to atone for a past misdeed by letting it fester. Sugar Drop, I don’t expect you not to feel... bad, or guilty about this. I feel pretty guilty about it myself, considering I had nothing to do with it except just being there. But please, remember that beating yourself up for such miniscule mistakes, and taking on blame that isn’t yours, won’t make you any better of a pony. All it will do is magnify in your heart until you can’t take it anymore, and you jump in front of a raider’s bullet in an attempt to atone by just killing yourself.” She was silent for another moment, and whispered “And I don’t know if I could take that.”

Now, I could look in her eyes, but she wouldn’t look in mine. I put a hoof under her chin, and saw a couple of tears rolling down her cheeks as I made her look at me. “Victory... thank you. You really are an amazing pony.”

A genuine smile crossed her face for the first time since the shooting range, and I felt warmth blossom in my heart. “Thank you, Sugar Drop. Thank you so very much. And.. and thank you for more than just th-” I put a hoof to her lips, smiled, and shook my head.

“Victory, no thanks are necessary. I just want to treat you as well as you’ve treated me, despite knowing me such a short time. I.. uh.. I see you as more than just some... strange mare I happened to save.”

“Sugar Drop?”

I looked away, smiling and rubbing a singular tear away. “I’ve never really... had...”

“A friend?”

“A friend.”

Victory jostled me with a hug and chuckled. “Well, I’m glad I could be the first. And you, well.. I think... I think I see you as a friend and a little bit more.” she winked, and I smiled. “I’m sure I won’t be the last, but for right now, I’m content with just... being here with you.”

“Even though we’ve only known each other for four days?”

She scoffed. “Oh, come on. I’ve heard stories of ponies becoming the best of friends in a single night. I don’t think it’s that strange.”

I hesitated, just a little bit. “Victory?”

“Yeah?”

I pulled her into a tender hug, and she returned it gratefully. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sugar Drop.” my heart fluttered again. “Friends love each other, after all. And I’m glad to call you mine.”

We held the hug for a few minutes, against the cold of the Equestrian night, and when we pulled apart, we both smiled shy, embarrassed little smiles.

“Are you alright, Victory?” I started, after several silent minutes of just.. Being.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

I knew she knew what I meant. “If you have nightmares about what we saw...”

“If I do, I doubt you’ll struggle to know.”

“Scream a lot?”

“Ho-hoooooooooh yeah. Lots of screaming.”

We laughed, until we heard a small, tender, masculine voice from the door behind us. “Hospitality?”

We looked at each other, and the door, and went in. I was content in my heart, for the first time in my life, even as we soothed and comforted the traumatized Geniality. We weren’t likely to sleep that night, but as long as she was there.. That was okay.

********************************************************************************************************

In the morning, after a surprisingly long restful night in the bed with Geniality (nothing but sleep happened, fortunately for everyone involved- the big lug was too scared to sleep without us. The sheer trauma of his experience seemed to drive him into a form of psychological regression, and the two of us essentially had to play parents to keep him from having another breakdown. What? I read a magazine once.), we sat together, close, and ate some of the supplies we had looted a day earlier from the gas station as we planned the “siege” on Repcolt. When he woke, Geniality seemed to be at least at his own age, though he was still unable to really talk without whispering. We decided to jam the door to the office so that the poor stallion wouldn’t see the mess and go mad, and decided to make sure he was alright before we left.

“Geniality?” I asked tentatively as we met him in his room.

“Come in, Drop.” He was curled up in his bed- his eyes were puffy and his cheeks were soaked, and it was clear he’d been crying since we left the building for food.

I trotted over and sat on the bed with him, offering a hoof for him to hold- his hoof curled around mine, and he stared into the distance. “How are you holding up?”

He didn’t respond for a minute, just stared into the nothing before finally answering me, “I don’t know how to feel.”

“How do you think you should feel?”

“I feel like I should be... angry.” he said plainly, and looked at me- his size was immense, enough to make me momentarily shrink back- he saw this, and was clearly hurt by it. “Not at you. Not even at myself. I feel like I should be mad at....”

“Your... sister?”

He was silent again, eventually seeming to search for words. “I was awake, you know. Under all of the chems. I heard the things she said about me. About you.” I cringed. “My sister wasn’t the best pony, but.. I never thought she could be so malicious. I didn’t know I caused her so much misery, or so much shame..”

“Geni...”

“You insulted her town, Drop. You did that, and it drove her crazy. I... I feel like I should hate you.” I looked away, and nodded. “But I don’t.”

“If you want to, I don’t blame you.”

“I don’t care if you do or not.” he snapped, and sighed. “I don’t.. I cannot hate you. I simply can’t. I want to, so badly, but I can’t. All I know is that my sister went crazy because of something you said, but .. it was her decision to let it hurt her.” He looked me dead in the eyes, a fire I’d never seen burning holes in his skull. “I killed my sister because she mistreated you. And Victory. And me. To be honest? I knew there was something wrong years ago, before she met you. Any wrong comment would send her into a rage, and she’d scream at them. And then, at me.”

“I...”

“She wasn’t abusive, per se. More... she was more... fragile. Her ego, I mean. Even as a filly she was fragile.” Bitterness tinged his voice.

I whimpered a little, and he looked at me.

“It is your fault.” I found my eyes going wide, and just stared, speechless. “That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? That this is your fault? That you caused this? That you’re the reason I murdered my own sister last night?” I could only respond with silence, and Victory stood in the doorway, watching- I could practically feel her glaring at him. “Well, you want to hear it, and I’ll let you hear it- you caused all of this.”

I stood, numb, and started to dismount the bed, but was stopped by a hoof. “You want to hear it, then I’ll give it to you..” I just stood, silent, and let him continue. “I heard... you two talking last night. You still think you are the reason this happened, and yeah, you kinda are. But you’re not the whole reason. The blame isn’t all on you.” I kept my mouth shut tight, mind boiling over the accusation, before I felt myself being swept into a massive hug. “At the same time, I don’t want you to just suddenly disappear. You caused all of this. My sister is dead because of you. But I’m not going to let you make up for it by disappearing and dwelling on it. If you care..” he spun me around, and his eyes bored into mine. He knew he was being intimidating, and decided to use it. “If you really want to make up for it, you’ll go to repcolt, save our towns livelihood, and you will NOT go down the road to self destruction. If you want to make up for it, then actually make up for it!” I nodded quickly, as he dropped me and I stumbled off of the bed. “Now go. And when you think back to these events, I want you to use that as motivation to be a better pony! Or else, never show your face in my town again.” He stomped, and I backed out of the door. “You had better be a better pony in the future, Sugar Drop. Or the next time I see you, I’ll kill you.” I fell back, as the door shut, and I saw a glimpse of the pain in his eyes from the speech he gave me. I sat, letting everything sink in, and despite Victory’s attempts to reach me, I was too numb to hear anything but the gentle unicorn’s words, echoing for eternity as I trotted towards Repcolt.

“Be a better pony in the future, or I’ll kill you.”

********************************************************************************************************

Repcolt was only a few minutes trot from Novac; I had gone into absolute autopilot upon departing the town, and it was only when I heard a low-pitched growl that I snapped out of my tranace. I must have been just short of a full gallop, for when I arrived I was streaked with sweat and Victory had only barely been able to keep up.

“Sugar Drop! WAIIIIIT! Celesta you can move!” She panted, as I looked around, drawing my new shotgun, and put a hoof to her lips. “Don’t you shu-” more growling, and she gulped loudly. “What..”

“Hush! I hear Ghouls!” i whisper shouted, trying to keep her quiet.

“What’s a ghoul?” I looked at her, eyes open in incredulity, and facehoof.

“You really don’t know? When a pony gets too much radiation they die, but don’t die. And I hear a few! Long story short, they’ll chase you down and try to eat you. So keep that pistol close and follow me.” I hunkered down, taking the shotty in my teeth, and softly, slowly, we made our way to the central courtyard of Repcolt. It may have been a gorgeous garden vista, once, with green grass, warm colored flowers and gorgeous stonework; as it was, though, it was just a mass of dead plantlife with a damaged statue of Luna and a sign: “To The Moon!” I had to bite back a snicker- given the mythology of old equestria, I couldn’t help but be amused. It was pretty clever, but I didn’t have time to really take it in as a ghoul sniffed the air, and Victory did exactly what we DIDN’T need her to do.

She screamed. And three ghouls immediately saw prey..

“Buck! Run!” I shoved her up the ancient stone steps to Repcolt compound, and we were face to face with two more. The door was only slightly open, and we were more than eager to capitalize on it as I pushed her to run. “In the door!” We charged, and I only just managed to buck a particularly pesky ghoul out of my way before we got into the doorframe and slammed the door shut;bracing ourselves against it, it was only a few minutes which felt like an eternity until the scratching and moans stopped. We waited an additional minute, breathing softly, before we eventually were able to relax and prop up a reception chair to the doorlock for good measure.

“Is that *pant* the monster *pant* that they meant?”

Through my own panting, I shook my head firmly. “I doubt it. Ghouls are ubiquitous out here- if they meant the ghouls, they’d have said ghouls.” I looked around, hearing the smallest of growls. “There are more inside, but one by one they shouldn’t be too bad.”

She looked back at the door and shuddered. “Er... are they all..”

“Rotten? Yeah. Just not all of them have gone zombie. Don’t go shooting every single ghoul you see- if you see intelligence in their eyes, leave them be.”

“You mean there are some of those things that are COGNIZANT?” I nodded. “Thats... oh goddesses that’s terrible! To be falling apart like those things... and to KNOW it..”

“Don’t feel too sorry for them- lucky for them, they don’t have to fear radiation. Heals them, basically their own versions of healing potions. No need to breathe, either, but they still eat and drink. Hence..” She nodded. “Honestly, the crazy ones are more worrisome.”

“Well yes, but what other reason besides they could eat us?”

“Some theorize they are basically trapped in a prison of their own skin. Knowing they’re crazy, but unable to do anything about it. Killing them is generally a mercy.”

She looked uncomfortable, and glanced around the reception area. I followed her gaze, and saw an intercom system. All at once, a crackling I had been too busy to notice sounded off- a deep, gravelly, torn voice echoed over the speaker. “Hey! Smoothcoats! Over here!”

“Smoothcoats?” Victory asked.

“Ghoul slang for non ghouls.” I trotted to the speaker, speaking into the microphone panel. “Yeah. We’re in here.”

“Please, we need your help. Come to the east wing- our demented brethren will fight you, but not much- and go all the way down. We’re in a bunker, please, we desperately need help.”

“Right on it.” I said, resisting the urge to ask for caps.

“Hurry.” it pleaded, and went silent. Victory looked absolutely shocked.

“It... he... his voice!”

“You don’t live for 200 years, rotting like a corpse, without your throat getting torn to pieces by time. Come on, Vic, we have to move.”

“Two hun...” she stammered, and followed me, clearly still in awe. I mused to myself why she’d never seen a ghoul before- she grew up in a hamlet in the wastes, didn’t she?- but I shrugged it off. Must’ve been one of those anti-ghoul communes.

If there was one thing I didn’t stand for, it was racism.

We trotted silently, guns at the ready, and slowly made our way to the left side of the compound. We found relatively few ghouls- one of which, Victory made a point to shoot right between the eyes (what a shot!) with a stamp. “No way I’m letting these ferals suffer.”

Eventually, we hit a metal door- I prodded it, and it opened. When I did, I heard gunshots and the sickening crunch of a melee weapon hitting flesh, and bolted to the door. When we rounded the corner, ready to shoot, we saw.. A ghoul, holding a gun and quivering, holding their gun in sickly yellow magic, aiming at... nothing. I trotted over, tentatively laying a hoof on his shoulder.I found the gun in my face, and he found Charm’s in his. He lowered it, shaking like a leaf. “Oh th-thank the g-goddesses! Please, help, they’re everywhere!”

I looked around, wondering what he was so worried about.

“Who are?”

Victory added, “I don’t see anything!”

He trembled, the nameless ghoul, and looked around nervously. He spoke in a whisper, and his words gave us chills.

“They’re invisible.”

“In.. invisible? Seriously?” I rolled my eyes- not that I didn’t believe him, but ...it seemed a little ridiculous. I began to continue, when suddenly something we couldn’t see tore his throat out before our eyes. Blood sprayed both of us, and took the form of something I’d never seen before- from what we could see, it seemed to be a reptile, possessed of massive fangs, and its - scaly?-face dripped the vitae of its victim as it jumped.

Right at my throat.

********************************************************************************************************

Level Up- New Perk: Piercing Buck- You know exactly where to hit somepony in armor to get to the meat. Ignore 10 points of DT when using melee or unarmed.

Author's Note

I hope y'all're liking my story so far! If not, tell me why; either way, I intend to see this through to the end. Any feedback would be greeeeeeeeeatly appreciated!

Prologue: Blood In Your Eyes

Prologue: Blood in your Eyes

“I’ve Sunshine enough to spread!
It’s just like the fellas said;
Tell me quick, ain’t it a buck iiiiiiin the heeeeeead!”

I've never been a good pony.

What possible reason could I have had to even ATTEMPT to be classified as a good pony? The wasteland has no room for... for, charity, or innocence... mercy, or compassion. Raiders are too fond of flaying the coats and skin from any given pony to ponder if what they're doing is "right"; slavers will grab anyone the raiders don't butcher, and sell them into a short (or long, if they're unfortunate enough) life as a pathetic peon, breaking their backs for the rest of their existence, unable to do anything but watch the world move on like they didn't exist as the pony who put them in that situation forgets their deed and moves on to the next poor fuck.

The ponies at Tenpony live in their little tower, throwing around caps for fancy bullshit; the ponies of the Enclave stay above the clouds, oblivious- or, perhaps, simply uncaring- to the
plight of the ponies below. Godesses know that the wild animals aren't exactly quick to leave people alone.

Who cares, has always been my motto. Certainly not me.

I'm no better than any pony out there- I've stolen from ponies just getting by. I've killed ponies for looking at me wrong, or speaking in a tone I'm not alright with. Tartarus alive, I've sold ponies into slavery, ignoring their pleas and just letting them be enslaved, taking my hard-earned caps and spending it on booze, or ass, or... booze.

I'm NOT a good pony. I never will be, and yknow what, I've always been fine with that.

Until now...

The broken pony underneath the raider I just shot gave me a look I've never seen before.
The raider, to his credit, didn't seem to MIND having a hoof-sized hole in his right foreleg, magic buzzing around a sharp spear poised to stab the helpless, broken-horned unicorn underneath him. The unicorn didn't seem grateful. Didn't seem
grateful, or hell, even relieved.

She just looked... angry.

The type of anger that i've never really had directed at me. Like I had just stolen
something from her, that meant everything to her.

Like I had done something wrong by giving the raider pause. For postponing her mortality. For depriving her of the peaceful oblivion of death.

The raider hadn't even been focusing on me- I just took aim at something I saw I didnt like, and pulled the trigger. I was watching out for myself. He foamed at the mouth even now, as if I had only made him a little ticked off. He was smiling, too, like I'd snapped him out of
his lethal reverie. Now, he didnt look like he
wanted to kill the unicorn.

He looked like he wanted to do much worse, and judging by the organ growing underneath him, I had a good idea what.

The powder-blue, green-maned little broken-horned unicorn looked at me with the most
fervent disgust I've ever seen, and I knew she would spend the next few hours, raped by this
random raider I didn’t care enough to describe, blaming the rust-maned ivory-coated earth pony that had just distracted her tormentor long enough to change his mind about a little more playtime with his food.

What... what was this burning feeling in my chest? Why did I care? I never had before; I knew ponies were raped by the damn raiders all the time, it was just one more thing I'd come to accept, and then, ignore. I really didn't care, but I really wasn't worried about her fate.

So... why were my eyes burning too? And why were my eyes narrowing? My teeth grinding against each other? Every muscle in my body tensing?

Why was I charging this raider, his spear gleaming in the cloud-filtered moonlight, his eyes looking to me, the same malice he felt for everything boring into me, his disgusting, disease-riddled... parts... dangling below him?

I exploded into action fueled by some rage I'd never experienced before, replacing the cold indifference I usually held. I had no horn; no melee weapons; hell, I wasn't even very good with my hooves. But oddly enough, I didn't seem to care, and I found that when I blinked I was suddenly in the raider's face, my blunt teeth tearing into his throat, his warm, coppery blood flooding my muzzle and my nostrils. He gurgled; the sound was nice to my sudden rage-fueled tantrum, and I flipped him on his back, sparing no moments to furiously grind my hoof into his member, blood and pus erupting as I pulverized probably the only part of himself he
actually cared about. I didn't stop stomping until my hoof hit blood-soaked dirt, and with more
strength than even I thought I had, I threw his corpse aside with my teeth and leaped as hard as I
could, landing with four hooves on his ribcage. The light had already left the raider's eyes, and he
was dead, but that didn't slow me down. I was determined not to just kill him- I was determined to erase him.

I only noticed I needed to stop when I heard a whimper behind me. The unicorn, when I
looked back at her, had gone from disgust to terror. I suppose she was taken aback by my
brutality- despite being at the hooves of a raider, she -as well as myself- was shocked by my sudden change of temperament. I looked down at my hooves; I'd never, ever had this much of some other pony's blood on me (I was too good of a sniper shot to have to worry about people getting close enough for blood splatter), and I suddenly felt an irresistible nausea come over me, as I hurled all of the meagre contents of my stomach onto the ground. I tasted blood, and almost nothing else, so much that the taste of bile didn't even register. I was shaking, not the shake of death or the shake of temper, but the violent shaking of my muscles pushed to the limit and adrenaline, the only thing that was keeping me going, leaving me. I collapsed under my own body's weight, knowing that in raider territory this would cause my death, but as unconsciousness took me I saw a pony approaching me- this was it, and I didn't even know why I had gotten in this situation in the first place.

******************************************************************************************************

A corpse, bloody and broken, lay on the cobbled stone of a city he had never seen. His own hooves were blood-covered, and bits of bone clung to his coat. He looked to the corpse again, which began to laugh... and laugh.. and laugh... and..

I woke with a start, half due to the dream, and half due to the shock of actually waking up in the first place. I heard a fire crackling; felt heat against my coat. My muscles were aching, likely most of them pulled, though I didn't know wh...

A corpse, bloody and broken...

I picked my head up, looking around- it didn't look familiar, just sand and dust, and a flame inside a ring of stones. A couple sheets of cardboard- including one under me- and a few trees, black and charred, were all I could see in the pitch black night. I remembered all of the actions I'd performed in a blood-red haze, and the nausea from before came to me again out of shock at my own capabilities. It was true, I'd never been a good pony, but ... that was far beyond anything I'd ever done.

I wasn't surprised when I fell into a hard, painful dry retch as the thought of what I'd done to the raider, the parts of him I'd touched, flooded my consciousness. I heard a rustling, but the nausea was just too much, and as my body was wracked by the painful gagging, I felt a hoof touch my back. I waited for a pain that never came, and to my surprised felt a hoof stroke my mane.

"Shhhh, shhhh, calm down before you hurt yourself more." Cooed a soft feminine voice, rich like chocolate and gentle like the softest breeze. Despite the soothing qualities of the voice, I still retched, and it took me several minutes to stop heaving. The instant I did, I looked back to see a powder blue unicorn with fear and... something else in her eyes. "You probably got poisoning from that raider's blood getting in your... y...your..." She looked like she was trying not to retch too.

I tried my damndest to leap to my hooves, ready for an altercation, but as I tried my legs went weak and I fell back over again. The mare tried-and failed-to hide a chuckle. I simply laid there, smart enough to know she wasn't going to kill me...yet.

I looked at her, panting and narrowing my eyes cruelly at her, eliciting a soft squeak as she obviously thought I was going to rip her apart too.

"What. Are. You. Doing."

She blinked. Her eyes were the purest emerald color, which shone in the firelight.
"Wh...what do you..."

I growled at her, trying to scare her into submission as I had so many slavers and
mercenaries. "Why. Am. I. Here."

She looked afraid, and then the fear turned to anger. "EXCUSE ME? Why are you HERE? I saved your sorry ass and THIS is how you react?"

I felt the oddest pang, the burning in my chest starting anew as I looked away, grumbling. "Noone does anything without wanting something." I looked back at her, struggling to sit up a little. "What do you want. I already kept you from being raped by a goddesses-damned raider. What else could you possibly..."

Damn but she could hit hard. I reeled, my cheek burning where she'd punched me. "D-don't you dare talk to me like that, you bastard. I was just trying to repay your oh so 'kind' attempt to save me. Typical merc." She sounded more than a little hurt, underneath the fury.

And I thought *I* was scary.

"Alright, alright, I'm SORRY." What the hell? I was apologizing? Since when did I apologize? "I didn't mean to bring it up, sheesh.."

The mare sighed, falling back on her haunches and watching me for a solid five minutes, as if to make sure I didn’t jump her.

"Victory Charm." Now it was my turn to blink.

"What?"

"My name is Victory Charm. Friends call me Vic- not that you classify as that. And I just
dragged you from raider territory- despite being wounded, mind you- to keep you from ending up as wall decorations as payment for saving my hindquarters. And in return, I demand to know your name."

Demand? If any other pony had "demanded" something from me- or if I had been in better condition- I would have shot them where they stood for their disrespect. But I couldn't seem to work up the will to hit her. Not that I liked her tone.

"Hmmph. Fine. My name is Blood. Blood Drop."

She looked at me funny, and broke into a raucous laugh. "Bl.. BLOOD DROP? OH MY GODDESSES THAT'S SO EDGY!" she rolled onto her back, laughing

loudly as I simply scowled.

"Better than you, Winning Jewelry." I was oddly proud of that jab- until she stopped and shot me a look. "I mean.. Victory... Charm." I was... sorry again? The fuck?

A silence hung in the air for a few moments, the night not leaving anything visible but us and the fire.

"Sorry I called your name edgy."

"Sorry I made fun of yours, too." Another apology. The hell was wrong with me?

Another tense minute.

Victory Charm was the one who broke the tension. "Are you hungry?"

"What?"

She rolled those emerald eyes with a grunt. "Are. you. HUN. GRY. Goddesses you're dense."

I growled, and she growled back.

Sigh. "I... could... eat."

She dumped out saddlebags I hadn't seen before, and kicked a can of applesauce to me. I weakly pulled it close, and dug my teeth under the tab pulling it open. I tried to drink the applesauce, and found myself stopping and putting it down.

"Is the raider why your horn's gone?"

Her glare could have burnt a hole in a Sentrybot. "What the hell makes you think you can ask me something like that? No, it wasn't the raider, and it is NOT any of your business. Now eat your damn sauce before I make you go hungry."

I cringed- now I was cringing, too?- and felt my head drop. "I'm... sorry." A burning in my
chest, same as before, but without the fire in my head to accompany it. I wasn't angry. I felt... was this what guilt felt like?

She looked at me with a strange sense of pity and fury, "It's.. fine. Just don't ask again. Get some sleep- in the morning I'll help you walk. You probably have a great number of torn and pulled muscles, but you'll just have to suck it up- I'm out of Med-X." she paused. "And if you try to protest, I WILL buck you so hard in the face you'll sneeze teeth for a month." And with that... poorly thought-out threat, she tossed over and tried to make an attempt at falling asleep. I grumbled, downed the applesauce, and laid my head on my hooves. Despite my exhaustion, my mind was reeling.

What the hell is coming over me? I don't know this mare. I have no reason to care. I saved her ass, she saved mine. Even is even.

So why do I feel like I owe her?

******************************************************************************************************

The morning was spent in silence. Complete, utter, silence. My muscles ached, but I could stand- pain was an old friend I was more than able to deal with. She hoofed me a piece of fried radigator (how the hell did she get that?) which I slowly picked clean, and helped me stand. I felt like I'd been smacked by a raider's sledgehammer, and was NOT enjoying the sensation, but again. Pain was temporary. She turned to the road to the right, and I stood there, waiting for her to leave so I could go on my own way.

Except...

"Victory Charm. Wait."

She didn’t get far before she turned, raising an eyebrow. "What."

I kicked the dust- it was NOT like me to be shy. "I want to travel with you. Yknow. Make sure you don't get yourself shot by another raider before you get to... wherever you're going."

She looked as confused as I felt. "Oh, um.. alright. Fine. But try anything funny, and I promise you'll shit your own jawbones for a week."

How colorful. I began trotting to her, unfortunately slow, making sure my rifle was loaded. I wasn't going to leave my guard down, not around her.

"I won't say anything stupid if you won't."

"Fine."

"Fine." I followed her slowly, and despite her coldness she didn’t seem willing to leave me alone, either- I figured she was too scared of thelocal raiders. I, for one, felt.. I wasn't sure what I felt. I didn't care, I told myself. I don't care. I'm just keeping her safe because.. she'd give me something. Or not. Why was I risking my ass for her? I didn't know her.

I was shaken from my thoughts after a couple miles by my head bumping her rump. I growled, and snapped "Dammit, what is it no-"

IIIIIII didn't need to finish that. The overpass, usually crumbly but perfectly stable, was... collapsed. Smoking, like it was new (how tired were we we didn't notice a boom?)

I pulled my rifle from its holster, peeking through the sight in a practiced motion I'd done
countless times before. I scanned the horizon, and to my surprise found noone in the... wait. What was that glint in the distance?

I felt a strange panic for the girl, and shouted "SNIPER!" just in time for her to dodge a massive bullet, missing us and digging into the deep desert sand. WE hid behind the rubble, and I cursed myself. Careless and in danger, because of a stupid mare.

Victory Charm looked at me with a muttered "thanks." and I responded with a soft nod, peeking over the stone, taking aim at the glint, and firing a shot. Another buried itself in the stone, and I waited.

Alright, adjust for wind... trajectory.. aim a little higher, and... I used my tongue to pull the trigger, and a little more or less than a second later, the glint disappeared with the audible sound of someone's head blowing to pieces.

A few seconds. Just listen...

Nothing.

I stepped from behind the stone and looked at the overpass, smoking and impossible to climb for anyone short of a pegasus. Which probably meant...

Victory Charm seemed to read my mind, despite the short time of our acquaintance, and she grunted. "Damn Enclave. Shutting down the roads.."

"Where were you headed?" I said, using a hoof to rack the bolt, sliding another round into place.

"I heard there's a pony at Tenpony..."

I nodded, and looked around. "Looks like that's going to be a loooooong trot- without the
overpass, that's a few weeks trot from as remote as this place is." I figured I knew what she wanted- a horn repair. And I felt the oddest sensation that I
would need to escort her. I grunted again.

"How much will you pay me if I escort you to Tenpony? You obviously don't know the area, and I do. 'Sides. I’m better with a gun than most." I found myself beaming with pride- why the hay was I showing off for some random mare? And for that matter why was I suddenly saying "Hay" instead of "Hell"?

She looked at me with careful consideration, and slowly said- "I don't have much with me. But I have no doubt we will face opposition. Tell you what- you escort me to Tenpony, and I will let you have the spoils of any encounter. I have my own resources, and you can have all the caps you find."

What an oddly... generous offer, but I wasn't in the habit of accepting anything less than upfront payment. I started to turn with a dismissive wave, but caught myself wanting to make sure was safe. Since when am I so goddamned philanthropic?

I sighed at myself, confused at my sudden change of heart, and said "Fine. I get first pick of any loot we find. And you-" I pointed at her as aggressively as I could. "-WILL do what I tell you to, if you want to stay alive. I don't need to be a genius to know you're far from being a local. I'll keep you alive, but ONLY if you do as I say."

She seemed to consider this, and nodded again slowly. "Fine. Consider it a deal. But if you go berserk again, you're on your own."

A pang of conscience (now I was having THOSE?) I began to lead the way. "This way, and remember-stick close. I'll be pissed off if I escort you and you die before I get enough loot to justify the effort." That was more like myself.

The road was going to be a long one, but I had nothing better to do, and, I mused as we set off, something else spurred me to protect her. I'm not a good pony, but for whatever reason...

...I wanted to keep her safe for more than just my wallet.

******************************************************************************************************

New Perk: Ferocious Loyalty- You're not going to let anything happen to your charge. When allies are at -50% health, you gain +5 damage threshold and +2 Strength and Endurance.

Traits: Trigger Discipline: You’ve learned how to make every shot count. 20% slower but more accurate with all firearms and energy weapons

Hot-Blooded: What a Temper! When your health is below 50%, you gain a massive damage bonus, but also a -2 to Agility and Perception

S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Stats-

Strength: 6

Perception:8

Endurance: 4

Charisma: 2

Intelligence: 7

Agility: 7

Luck: 3

Chapter 1: Cleanliness is Goddessliness

Chapter 1: Cleanliness is Godliness

“I don’t want to set the world on fire;
I just want to staart a flame in your heaaart”

I must have looked a horror.

Blood hoof to muzzle.. caked with sweat... I didn't even think about the sticky mess until I caught a look of myself in a piece of particularly shiny steel laying against the overpass's far side. My ivory coat was almost entirely blood red, my rust-colored mane accented with grease and blood at the tips. My violet eyes, narrowed against the visage of the ugly bastard observing him, were bloodshot from some vessel that had shat itself last night.

Now THIS looked edgy.

Some part of me liked this new style far more than I should.

Oh Goddesses, please tell me I wasn't turning Raider...

I shook myself of the thought about the time Victory Charm trotted up behind me with a hard clop on my back

"Don't worry, I'm sure there's a radioactive toilet you can scrub yourself clean in."

I wasn't amused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I scooped water from the radioactive stream over my coat- I knew it was filthy and dangerous, but hell, it was better than being shot for looking like some random blood-caked raider. I scrubbed with all of my might, cringing as the gore pulled my fur. I pulled a pouch of Radaway (ORANGE!) and gulped it down once my mane and coat were clean, and heard Victory Charm whistle.

"Damn, are you seriously using THAT to clean your... everything? You're going to end up with tumors where the sun don't shine like that." I shot her a scathing look, and she blinked, turning around as if I'd just socked her. She began to sit against a burnt tree, before turning around and looking me dead in the eyes. "Do you usually... go berserk like that?"

I must have looked uncomfortable, because she didn't even wait for my answer. "I guess... not. I um... I haven't... thanked you for that yet. So, erm.... Thank you. F-for keeping me from... being...." She trailed off, and I knew what she was going to say.

"Don't .. worry about it. You saved me too, after.... that. So... consider it even."

Another awkward silence.

"What were you doing there?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What were you doing in that raider den? You don't seem like the kind of person who would go raider hunting."

I gave her my standard cold stare, and replied "None of your business. I was there, and you got lucky. That's the long and the short of it."

Another goddesses-be-damned awkward silence.

"It... was.. my home."

Now it was my turn to look confused. "What was?"

"My home was far, far north. My horn... got broken when raiders attacked my hamlet. Took a hammer to me." I felt my stomach twist and knot as she continued. "I don't expect you to care. But if you must know why I'm going to Tenpony... it's to hopefully restore my horn."

I really... did care, for whatever reason. I wasn't in the habit of it, but.... something had broken in me. "I.. c.." I shook my head hard, grumbling. Showing weakness was a death sentence. "I'll make sure you arrive safely." I stood, shaking radiated water from my fur. "Let's move. It will be the hottest time of day soon, and we need to be in shelter when it comes." And with that, I began to trot in the direction of a cluster of ruined buildings, trying to ignore my sudden pang of conscience.

~~~~~~

Mother. Mother was... difficult. When she was there (which was only rarely) she was only too happy to berate the ivory-rust stallion, smack him around and break him of his pathetic, bleeding-heart mentality. "Death is a part of the wasteland," she would say "and you being a pussy isn't going to keep you alive." He didn’t think sourly of her; he figured that was just how it should have been. Mother is god in the eyes of a child, and to him, she was a cruel god that kept him alive. So a few bruises and hurt feelings were a small price to pay.

Caught in thoughts I hadn't thought in years, I was snapped out of my brooding by a whistle from my new compatriot. I brought my sniper to bear before she could finish the sentence I was already aware was coming; "WHAT THE HAY IS THAT?"

A mange-ridden beast, just slightly larger than a manticore and with much more muscle, roared at the two of us, his milky-white eyes glistening in the light from the streetlight above. Dusk; typical. I meet another pony and forget where I am. "DEBU!" I bellowed, and squeezed the trigger with my tongue, sending a .308 round right into their eye. The creature screamed, and began to rampage towards us. I bucked Victory out of the way, and rolled just in time to evade getting a massive claw stuck in my back. I brought the rifle to its temple and squeezed the trigger- a torrent of blood and brains was blown from their skull, and its body slumped as the two of us panted. "Th...thanks.." she gasped, and a loud roar sounded in the distance.

"Don't thank me yet! These things travel in pairs!"

Another of the damn things was charging at us, and as I drew my rifle to bear, to my surprise it was Victory Charm that leapt into its path. She pointed her horn at the creature, focused, and sparks grew from her horn- as I began to ram her out of the way, the Debu was so close I could smell its horrid, rancid breath...

...Just in time for the bear-beast to erupt in a shower of fur and gore, as a tremendous burst of unfocused magic struck it full tilt with the brightest colors I'd ever seen.

I fell back , butt impacting the dirt below me, and my jaw fell open. "What... the..."

Victory Charm posed, strutting and smirking. The pride coming off of her would have choked a cloud ghoul. "I'm not COMPLETELY helpless."

"But... you don’t have a..."

"Horn? No, I don't. and it's STILL a problem. But I CAN use a little ingenuity, can't

you?" she pranced a little- must not get to surprise many ponies with her little coping talent. "I can't cast spells, or use telekinesis... but I can blow a hole in just about anything from close range. not the best trade, but... better than nothing! Comeon, we should move!"

No wonder she doesn't have saddlebags... who needs ammunition when your head is a goddesses-be-damned energy cannon? I mused inwardly as I stood, finding myself almost... liking this random mare I'd just met the day before. If she could do that to a mutant bear...

...then why couldn't she do that to a raider?

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had finally hit the time of night where darkness prevented us from moving further, with her lack of light magic, and my own habit of travelling only in the daylight, halting us in our tracks. We decided to set up a fire, setting alight a few miscellaneous chunks of wood in a lightly dug pit in the sand. As we lay on the warm sand, huddled around the fire, we decided to get to know each other a little better (despite my immense hesitance to grow attached to someone like... her.)

"So, you're pretty good with that rifle. Where'd you learn that?" she asked over a half-rusted can of beans.

I had begun to clean my gun, a ritual I had learned would rapidly keep me alive longer than waiting till it jammed. A small part of her obviously wondered how I could have the fine control needed to dismantle a firearm, but I wasn't inclined to answer. "I picked up a rifle because it's much harder to get shot if you're out of their range. I got to be a good shot because ammunition is expensive, and heavy. Travelling light keeps me moving- the faster I get somewhere the less resources I need." I answered cooly, in as matter-of-fact of a manner as I could. She seemed to mull that over, shrugging as she looked around.

Now was my turn to ask a question. "Where the hay do you keep pulling that food from?"

She blinked. "My.. ohhh you mean my saddlebags!" She wagged her tail against the fire, and I realized just how.... massive and bushy that tail was. she wagged it more, and her saddlebags came falling out. I blinked once... twice... three times...this is.... how strange.

"In your tail? How does it stay in there?!?"

She put on a mockery of my cold even voice "I learned to put my saddlebag where nopony could see it, so they would think I was unarmed and not rob me. Muwahaha." she laughed at my perturbed expression, and I found myself liking the sound. I didn't smile, but it was.... nice.

I rolled my eyes, and shook my head softly. She looked at me and grumbled. "Grumpy bastard.."

I looked at my hooves, a little dirty but not caked with dried Raider. That raised to mind a

question...

"....Why didn't you kill that Raider?"

Her expression went from mildly frustrated to downright uncomfortable. "I... don't want to

talk about it."

"Hey.." I was shocked at the soothing tone of my own voice. "Please. I won't mock, I promise."

I really was surprising myself today...

Victory took a deep breath, and began: "I... wanted him to end me." She looked at the ground, and I caught the sound of ... Oh My Goddesses she was trying not to cry. I sat where I was planted, and she continued, trying not to choke up. "The wasteland... it's worse than I thought. So much pain out here... I... my hamlet was always so peaceful. Nopony got shot, we survived perfectly adequately. And then the... the raiders... my horn, my parents, my..." she trailed off, staring into the night sky at something I could not see. "...All gone. So, I started to go to Tenpony after hearing a broadcast from DJ Pon3, and... I saw a group of raiders pretty quick. I learned that people would steal from me if they saw my bags, but as I saw that Raider... all I could think of was my family, friends, home, and horn, gone, and all I wanted was... for him to.. to..."

Shit.

I'm not a good pony. Slavery, stealing, contract murder...I have NEVER been a good pony. I'd ignored the suffering around the wastes, and never given thought to anyone or their pain. But here, this unicorn I'd never met, this pony I've only known for a few days, was hurting.

I was watching this pony struggling to keep her composure, heard her crying and trying her damndest to get her words to hide the sorrow and agony she was feeling. And for possibly the first time in my life, I actually felt the pain she was putting out.

I was scared out of my mind, for the first time in my entire life, and I found my body moving of its own volition to walk close to the mare, who was attempting to stifle her sobs. It wasn't the lack of control I'd used to tear the raider to pieces, but instead, as if I was doing something I'd never had the courage to do before. And as I saw her puffy eyes, her body quivering in protest to her tears, I did the only thing I could think of.

I hugged her.

Mother, a difficult pony. A crying, rust-maned colt, sobbing in terror from a bad dream. Mother, smacking her child across the face for his weakness. "Don't you cry you little bitch. I have to keep you alive, but I don't have to tolerate your crying. Shut up." Smack. A little earth pony keeping himself quiet, curled up under a blanket. Drying his eyes, scolding himself for showing weakness. Weakness kills ponies. Weakness kills Ponies. Weakness killed...

Her muscles tensed, and I found myself worrying I'd crossed a line I would regret. But as my hooves encased her, pulling her to my chest, she returned the favor and gripped me tight. I wasn't sure what words to use, or how to move, or react; she couldn't speak, for all of the tears that were cascading down her face, and words were beyond her grasp. So wordlessly, the two of us held that embrace; for her, an embrace with a pony she didn't know if she could trust; and for me, an embrace with a pony I barely knew, and the only embrace I'd possibly ever felt. The only sound the wracking, agonized whimpers and miserable sobbing, as I tried with all my might to soothe her pain. I wasn't even sure if this little unicorn would appreciate this intrusion, or sympathy from someone who'd only shown her coldness for the short time she'd known him.

But at this moment... in this one, singular moment of empathy, the first I'd ever shown...
...a tear streaked down my cheek, and the rest of Equestria ceased to exist.

Victory Charm... and a heartless, uncaring pony with grimy coat and stained mane.

Maybe I'm wrong...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When her sobs had silenced, replaced by a light snoring, I hefted her saddlebags (holy shit these are heavy) and positioned them as comfortably as I could underneath her head. Gently, slowly, I let her lay on the soft sand, and stood up. Content that she was resting peacefully, I trotted softly around the perimeter of what I could see.

"I didn't think you had that in you."

In another instant my rifle was pressed barrel-to-plate with a... spritebot? I took the gun down looking around, as the spritebot continued in a monotone tinny voice.

"Sorry to startle you, but I couldn't have you shooting my little bot here."

I grunted. "Great. First a crippled unicorn I have to care for, and then a goddesses-be-damned robot. What do you want?"

If the bot could show surprise, it certainly was now. "First time I've had such a... nonplussed reaction. I'm Watcher, and I've noticed you around the Ponjave desert. And I've never seen you be so..."

I waved a hoof dismissively. "Yeah, yeah." A softness creeped into my voice as I looked at Victory Charm, "I didn't think I could either."

Watcher bobbed silently for a moment, before saying "Seems like she trusts you. I hope you don't break that trust. I've seen you around the wastes, out of the corner of my eye."

"Why."

"Because I think I see something in you, and I hope- I sincerely hope- that the good will outweigh the bad." I almost detected an edge to its voice. "And there is a lot of bad."

"You don-" I was cut off by a loud pop, and it floated away with the sound of overtly patriotic big band music, and then it was gone. With its absence, I trotted back to the campfire, hooves folded under me, and fell asleep almost instantly.

~~~~~~~~

Broken and bloody, the corpse laughed. Its cackle was echoed by a second, a third, and a fourth, and a fifth; soon, the raucous laughing turned to the laugh of the legion, bellowing in laughter. A blue unicorn's muzzle broke into a scream, and soon, all that could be heard were screams.

A hoof shook me awake, and I was on my hooves ready to shoot - only to be met with a concerned stare from Victory Charm.

"Are... are you alright?" Fear and caution tinged her voice, and I realized I must have looked furious. I growled, looking away and bit my saddlebags slinging them over my back and grumbling.

"I'm fine. Let's go."

***

We trotted in utter silence for more than two hours; she was afraid to talk to me, and I wasn't sure what to say to her. As we came upon a ruined building, my silence gave way to cautious whispers. "I hear ponies talking. I think they have an ambush planned.."

"What do we do?" She asked, horn giving a small spark as I noticed a tinge of relief in her voice, grateful for the break of silence.

"How big of an explosion can you cause and how far away?"

"I can probably hit that tree." she said, confidence tinging her voice again. It was a welcome change from the quiet, I had to admit. "And pretty big!"

"Okay, I want you to wait for one minute. Exactly one minute, and then detonate that tree. I'll take care of the rest." I didn't wait for an answer, and dived behind the far side of the building, and crept up behind the party behind the wall of the skeletonized building. I sat, pulled my rifle silently from my back, and waited.

Thirty.... twenty-nine... twenty-eight... twenty-seven... twenty-six... twenty-five... twenty-four... twenty-three... twenty two... twenty one... twenty....

I checked my gun, making sure the bullets within would be sufficient. I heard no more than three ponies- a male, and two females. The male spoke in a deep whisper, and the females had shrill, cruel voices. Not raiders, per say, but...

Nineteen... Eighteen... seventeen... sixteen... fifteen... fourteen... thirteen.... twelve...

I found myself hoping they wouldn't see her. I was mildly worried about something happening to her. I knew I'd have to be quick to dispatch each pony once the distraction was...

Eleven...

I wonder if she'd understand the things I'd done.

Ten...

Why did I care? I barely knew her. She wasn't used to the wastes.

Nine...

I hope- I sincerely hope- the good will outweigh the bad.

Eight...

The metallic, tinny voice's words felt... strange. I wasn't a good pony. I hugged her to shut her up so we didn't get ambushed.... didn't I?

Seven...

What good could possibly be in me? And why did I care?

Six...

She WAS the first pony I'd ever bothered to hang around, or get to know. I'd escorted caravans for cash... but I never had any interest in getting to know ponies that would probably just die anyway.

Five...

So why was this pony different?

Four...

She was just some mare.

Three...

I don't even like mares.

Two...

I was just doing it for the loot.

One...

...Wasn't I?

Crackle... bzzzzt BOOM!

I sprung into action, leaping behind the distracted ponies and swinging my gun to a foot or so behind them, sending a bullet into the back of the head of the most heavily-armored pony; their head erupted in a shower of gore, and I racked the slide on my firearm. I had just enough time to roll out of the way of a tire iron swing before Charm leapt on the back of the other, giving me time to rack my slide fire again into the tire-iron-wielding pony's chest. Her thin, padded cloth barding blossomed into a bloody mess as their chest was obliterated by the high-caliber round. Charm's hoof impacted the back of the remaining warrior's helmet to no avail, and she was promptly thrown into the wall with a hearty thud and the "oof!" of the air leaving her lungs.

I felt the fury rising in me again, and flipped my gun around (against all of the common sense I'd tried to keep), grabbing the barrel in my teeth, and swung the rifle butt into the temple of the cycle-helmeted pony. His helm had been shifted by Charm's ineffective smack to allow the solid strike to hit his temple, and the pony slumped to the ground. I wasn't sure if he was unconscious or dead, but I intended to make sure it was the latter. As I brought my rifle up into its natural grip, and racked the slide I pushed the barrel to the pony's temple, tongued the trigger...

And felt the cold glare of Charm's stark, emerald eyes boring into my mane.

I turned, seeing the intensity with which she regarded me, and felt a burning shame.
"What?"

"He's unconscious. He's not a threat anymore."

I scowled at her. "Yeah, until he wakes up and comes after us."

"Comes AFTER US? We were just a pair of random ponies who coincidentally was in the right place for him to take things from them."

I was rapidly progressing from shame to irritation. "Exactly. That's why I need to make sure he's dead."

"Why does it matter? He won't care that we're gone! He's UNCONSCIOUS!"

"The radscorps will get him even if I don't!"

"Then the blood won't be on your hooves!" She stomped, sending a small cloud of sand into the wind. "Leave! Him! Be!"

And now it was nothing BUT irritation. "Excuse me, but in case you weren't aware, they were going to KILL US! Take our belongings and leave our corpses rotting in the desert! You were fine with me killing the OTHER TWO!"

"BECAUSE THEY HAD A CHANCE TO FIGHT BACK!" She roared, and I holstered my rifle.

"THEY AREN’T SUPPOSED TO GET THAT CHANCE! THEY'RE THIEVES!"

"AND YOU’RE A MURDERER!"

"SO? I KILL TO STAY ALIVE YOU STUPID BITCH, AND FOR THE LOVE OF CELESTIA’S PERIOD-FUELED RAGE THERE'S NO ROOM IN THE WASTE FOR PATHETIC BLEEDING-HEART..."

Her rear hooves hit my sternum, and I lost all of the breath in my lungs, collapsing in a heap. Damn but this unicorn could buck. "I am not pathetic! I am not going to stand here and let you tell me that killing a pony we don't even know, a pony that might have only just tried to take our things and not tried to shoot us, is okay!"

I coughed, and felt a righteous anger swell in my chest. "Wh...and wh...what if... he kills...
someones... family?" This seemed to hit her like a sledgehammer.

"Don't you us-"

"Wake up and smell the radigator dung! If we leave him alive that's not just us that will pay!"

"I.."

You think you're the only pony in the wastes who loses their family? Fucks like THIS-" I pointed an accusatory hoof at the unconscious pony laying in the sand "-Are the reason ponies lose everything! The reason foals grow up without a mother, or a father!"

Tears welled in her eyes "B-but.."

"NO! You absolute moron! Do you want others to go through what you have?"

"H-he's just o.."

"Just one pony? JUST ONE PONY? THE RAIDER THAT BROKE YOUR HORN WAS 'JUST ONE PONY!'" I stood, an anger I was a stranger to making me forget the pain in my chest. "THE PONY THAT KILLED YOUR MOTHER WAS JUST ONE PONY! THE PONY WHO KILLED YOUR FATHER WAS JUST ONE PONY!"

She began to sob now, but I couldn't stop. Celestia knows I wanted to stop, but... if she didn't learn now... "THE ONE PONY YOU LEAVE ALIVE IS THE ONE PONY THAT RUINS SOMEONE'S LIFE!" I found myself stamping the sand with each word. "OTHER!
PONIES! WILL! DIE!" I looked at him, spitting each word as if it were poison. "He's just a goddesses-damned brigand. You're standing up for him, and do you know something?" I looked at her again, her cowering against the wall. "He would have SHOT YOU! HE HAD A HIGH-CALIBER LEVER ACTION! That ISN'T a gun you use to scare people! You use it to pump as many bullets into someone's chest as you can before they can bring their pistol around!" I bucked his helmet- he didn't react. "And I will NOT LET SOMEONE KILL YOU GOD DAMMIT!"

She sobbed, and I fell back on my haunches. This rage-fueled indignant tantrum was sapping all of my strength, as if I'd never allowed it to release; like a flamer with a loose hose burning from the inside out. "You can't trust anyone. Nopony is on your side, and nopony has a good heart. They all want your head, or your caps." She cried softer, shaking visibly. I shook too, from exhaustion instead of terror or...

Ah, shit.

I looked at her, and the burning shame returned at full force. I looked at the bandit, and sighed. "I.." I swallowed hard. "I'll.. leave him, if you want.

More sobbing. Dammit now I felt bad.

...I felt bad? I'd just saved her ass, and I felt BAD? I was just saying things as they were. She wouldn't survive without me. Not if she let... these... ponies stay alive.

And yet...

I kept my muzzle shut as I trotted around to the other side of the broken wall, leaving her alone. I sat against the cold brick, listening to her broken sobs and the choking, ragged breaths that accompanied each one. I'd been the one to silence her tears last night, and now I was causing them. I'd never really cared before- I'd seen ponies crying and begging for their lives and it never kept me from shooting them in the face for daring to hurt m... daring to try to take my things- but this pony, crying due to hurtful words I'd thrown without consideration, was causing a freezing cold ball of nerves to collect in my chest. I wasn't sure what to do- I got the feeling a "hug" wouldn't work this time. I weighed my options- I could go talk to her, and probably get a cold reaction from her; or I could leave her some room, and-

BLAM!

I sprung up, my guilt forgotten and replaced with an anxiety for my new "companion", and ran back around to find the powder-blue pony with a clumsily-held pistol (looted from the helmeted pony himself) smoking against the pony's skull- with a bright red hole in the pony's head, the helmet rolling down the dunes. She sobbed still, tears streaming down her cheek, and she was quivering.

And it hit me.

She'd never taken a pony life before.

And I'd forced her into her first kill.

She dropped the gun, her sobbing beginning anew, and as she sat back, head buried in her hooves, I had the overwhelming urge to take the gun and shoot myself in the leg for pushing her to do something that hurt her so badly. I knew it was right; I knew it had to be done, that the pony would have murdered someone else, and that he didn't deserve to live. This was the wasteland, compassion had no place.

That didn't make me feel any less like a screaming douche.

I'm REALLY not a good pony.

~~~~~

Silence once again prevailed, hanging in the air like the Canterlot cloud. I had already looted the corpses (Charm refused to take part in that. I was in no mood to put her through it) and she had set to making a fire far away from me. I couldn't blame her- I felt awful, despite knowing that by all accounts it had been the right thing to do. We had essentially decided to camp for the day, despite it only being a few hours after twilight, and neither of us had the stomach to resume on our lonesome road to Tenpony I gave her a wide berth, and she didn't complain- I knew I'd screwed up, even if I was sure we had made the right decision, and we figured that perhaps the two of us just needed to breathe. She scavenged a few items of canned food (how in Tartarus does she continue to find these things?) and some less-than-pristine water while I pulled some old cardboard boxes to the campfire to try to make it slightly more comfortable- I didn't really care about comfort, but I felt like I owed it to her.

And probably far, far more.

I'd tried to be objective, to make the decisions that would keep us safest. Keep ME safe, I mean. But this had felt different. I'd seen ponies shoot random ponies before- I'd done it more times than I could count- and I'd always been able to justify it. But I'd never had someone take their first kill ever in front of me; never seen their tears, or the regret in their eyes; never heard them sob and choke over somepony They'd never even seen before's life. This pony had obviously come from a hard place, her entire family and home gone. And the only pony who'd ever talked to her in the wastes, ever shown her even the tiniest amount of kindness, had just screamed at her, broken her down, corrupted her, and made her take the first step to the same darkness that the wasteland thrived on.

I tripped over something buried in the sand while a prisoner to my own thoughts- it was a bottle of Wild Pegasus Single-Malt Whisky. The good stuff- the STRONG stuff. I trotted over to the fire, regarded the whisky with a plaintive stare, and sighed, using my tough teeth to pull the lid right off. I put it to my lips, and took a deep, hearty swig- the burn felt AMAZING. The flavor was perfect, not too much pete and not too much smoke. I gulped the muzzlefull down, and sat on my haunches with my back against the fire as a pleasant warmth spread through my belly and my limbs. I was tired, possibly a little dehydrated, and miserable, so the instant it hit me I found myself chuckling low. "Wow."

Victory Charm saw me, and cast her eyes down. I saw her, and the buzz immediately made my next decision easier.

I scrounged around in my pack, pulled out a shot glass, and poured her a shot of whisky. I sat it down in front of her, and looked at her with what I intended to be a blank stare. It obviously wasn't, as she looked even more ashamed and sat down hard. She regarded the whiskey, and to my astonishment, downed it with not the slightest bit of trouble. My muzzle dropped, and she smiled- the first smile I'd seen from her since the day before with the bear creature. She stood, wobbling, and blushed luminously. Her face broke into a wide grin, and I felt my own cheeks burn with my own stupid smile.

"Got any more?"

~~~~~

The two of us laughed. Not the stilted, polite laugh you give to someone in return for a horrible joke while trying to make them feel good about it. A genuine, hearty laugh shared between... two ponies.

"You have *hic* got to be kidding me.," I blurted, sufficiently drunk that my words slurred. "Y- *hic* you seriously just *hic* bucked him like that?"

A warm, high-pitched giggle emanated from Victory Charm's lips as she expertly downed another shot of the powerful, amber-colored liquid. "Right in the face!" She giggled harder, and I laughed right along with her. "His heeee stupid mistake, tryin’ to grope me!"

Another shot for me! Another shot for her! The bottle was only half gone, but the two of us were completely and utterly schnockered. The sun was obviously going down, as the darkness slowly crept up on us as we drank our worries away. "Sounds like *hic* he got what he des-*hic*-erved."

She sighed, a wistful, nostalgic sigh. "Yeah, hehe, he was a dick. But hey, I've had worse."

The air was much less like a cloud of corrosive smoke, and much more like someone had set fire to an alcohol factory. We continued to laugh and drink, until the only thing we could see was the glow of the campfire and our own blushing faces. Ponies may not be the best at processing alcohol.. but ... well.. that just meant it worked better!

I found myself staring at the bottle. I looked at her, somehow perfectly agile, and hiccuped again. "How are you *hic* still standing? I can b-*hic*-arely sit up!"

She chuckled, trotting right over to me. She'd drunk more of it than I had, and somehow had perfect motor control. Her voice turned sultry, and she said "It's all about how you drink it. Gotta drink it sl-slow, and hold your b-breath. Heee, this is strong stuff!" She stepped closer to me, so close I could feel her hot, alcohol-scented breath, and she picked up the bottle with both hooves and tilted it back into her muzzle. she swished it around, and smiled at me with a heart-melting grin. She got closer, and closer, until her nose touched mine...

...then gripped my shoulders, and forced me into a kiss.

My eyes went wide and I gasped, confusion the only thing I could think, as her tongue pushed mine down. She closed her eyes, gently filtering the whisky into my throat, and keeping me from taking a breath after the whisky was gone. I felt the burning of the alcohol, and... something else, as my muscles seemed to be steeled by intoxication.

She pulled off, a deep, luminescent blush blossoming across her muzzle, and she licked her chops.

I looked at her, blushing myself, and stammered out "I-I like... *hic* stallions."

She looked like she got hit with a wrecking ball. "O-oh. I'm so s-sorry! i got c-carried away!" She cursed herself and I stood- hey look, I COULD stand up!- and trotted over to her, wobbling hard from side to side and stumbling over my own hooves.

"N-nono it's f*hic* fine. Just, yknow. I l*hic* like stallions. That's all." Beat. "H-h*hic* hey, what was that all ab-*hic* bout?"

She blushed hotter and hotter- I was sure she was going to burst into flames at this rate.
"I-I don't know, you’re the first st-stallion I've ever seen that didn’t t-try to shoot me." Despite the stutter in her voice from the whisky, this time I knew it was embarrassment. "Th-Thought it would be a good id-dea."

I laughed, falling over on the sand as she flushed. "B-Blood Drop?"

I blinked hard. "Wh*hic* what? I wasn't laughing at y..." I felt cold steel pressing against my neck, and looked up to see a very angry looking black-maned, olive-colored unicorn, horn glowing, with a ten-mil against my neck. I was too drunk to hit them, and too shocked to react.

I suddenly remembered this pony. And remembered him sobbing, begging for his freedom before a bomb collar was snapped to his neck.

"...Olive Loaf?"

A vicious grin spread across his face. "Hello, Blood Drop. Time we had a chat."

Ah, buck.

****************

Level Up: New Perk - Confirmed Bachelor: You do ten percent more damage to members of the same sex. In addition, you will sometimes receive unique dialogue options with other members of the same sex.

Companion Perk: Victory Whisky: Thanks to Victory Charm, you've learned the best possible way to drink Wild Pegasus! +5 DT when under the effects of whisky, and are immune to the negative effects of whisky and whisky addiction.