Fallout Equestria: Winds of Change
By Mad Moon

Chapter Two: Direction

Old Chicacolt was a dangerous place. While the steel rangers claimed to protect this part of the city, it was pretty clear that their definition of protection was limited to large settlements. The road into the city proper was so rife with hazards and pitfalls that I nearly reconsidered my decision to travel alone. In the day or so of walking I had done since leaving the university, I’d had to avoid raider dens and ambushes no less than four times! Twice Id been spotted, but managed to escape into the ruins before being run down.

The telltale signs of battle were everywhere. Not just the usual pockmarks of small arms, but whole walls blown in, streets scoured black by flamers, and in the distance there was a steady booming like the crackle of thunder. When Night had told me the steel rangers were at war with everyone, I had thought she was exaggerating, but now, as I walked through the remains of what was clearly a massive battle, I rethought my judgement.

I’d taken shelter for the night inside of an old school which had been gutted by the liberal application of flame weaponry, but provided a secluded roof over my head. I found myself wishing for somepony to be around. Anyone who wasn't trying to kill me would do!

Never before had I realized just how lonely you could be when you were only in company with your thoughts. Id always had somepony to talk with, interact with, have my back.

After my sleepless night in the school I hit the road again, still weaponless, but in better spirits than I had any right to be. I was alive, and while things really could be better, I could focus my wandering mind on the task of simply not dying in the mirid of deathtraps instead of trying to figure out the mysteries that surrounded me.

As I walked, I became aware of a bright glowing neon pink sign among the crushed and blasted buildings around me. I was in a built up part of the city now, still in the shadow of the gargantuan high rise structures in downtown, but the houses were apartment blocks now. Each one about four or five stories high, their cracked and faded facades painted in the likeness of a forest.

The offending sign stood more than twice the height of anything around, and advertised something called the ‘Honeysuckle Inn’. Parts of the sign were patched or burned out, but I could still make out the green lettering spelling ‘Vacancies’ under the name itself.

“Ah, what the hell?” I muttered to myself, Id been walking for a day and a half, might as well give the place a look. Not like there was anything else to see around here.

Of course a part of me knew that kind of thinking got ponies killed, but that curious mare in my head just couldn't keep her mouth closed. So I changed direction, walking toward the pink vestige of civilization.

***

“Ay, you! Come out or I'll blow ya ead off!” A high pitched female voice called in my general direction. Damnit, damnit, damnit! Turns out I wasn't as sneaky as I envisioned myself, and had gotten spotted by… sompony. I was on the top floor of a ruined apartment complex adjacent to the Inn, trying to get a good view of the place to judge if it was a raider den or not. From the first look I'd gotten, it wasn't. In fact, it looked like just the opposite. The building itself was an old timey looking hotel cut off from the maze of apartments by wide roads and a courtyard that went all the way around the building. It rose up several stories higher than the buildings around it and while not as well restored as the university, someone had obviously made an effort to scrub the soot off the ornate building’s lower levels.

What grabbed my attention, however, was the large perimeter fence that enwrapped everything, griffons of all things! Patrolled its length on the outside and inside there were dozens of caravans in various states of rest or getting ready to leave. Then a bullet bit into the plaster next to my head as a sniper took a shot at me.

“I won't ask twice ya lil git!” The voice was much closer now, and above me. Of course I hadn't looked up! Why would I? Not like griffons can frickin fly! Resigned, and barehoofed at that, I stood up. And was face to face with the barrel of a large caliber sniper rifle. How did I keep getting into this kind of situation?

Instead of a pegasus however, this rifle was held in the claws of a rather young looking female griffon. Her body was a cool black with brown plumage around her neck and head with yellow tipped feathers. She wore a smirk on her beak as she glared at me with scarlet eyes, “Gotcha!” Then she frowned as she took in more of my features, “Oi, yer not a raider. What ya doin slinkin around ere?”

I opened my mouth to answer but she cut me off, and without a gun of my own, I wasn't inclined to do more than pout about it, “Never mind, come down to tha gate or my mates will hunt ya down.”

Ten minutes later, I was standing next to the same griffon as she patted me down for weapons, “Not even dinner? Seriously I like to be wined and dined before we get to this part.” I said as she ran a claw through my tail.

“Don't flatter yourself, pony. I'm not that much of a deviant.” She snorted back at me, unceremoniously tossing my saddlebags at my face.

I grinned in response as she turned away a little too quickly, “So, you are a deviant?” Before she answered me, she nodded to a slit in the large metal door we stood beside and it swung outward. It wasn't nearly as impressive as the gate to the university, but still, coupled with the roving griffon patrols it made for a formidable defense.

A group of said griffons met us inside, instead of the regular talon armor most of their kind wore, these and all the guards wore what looked like equestrian military body armor painted pink and modified to fit their form. They were also very well armed with rifles and machine gun battle saddles, a few even sported rocket launchers. The leader sized me up before addressing my escort, “What ya catch today, eh Georgie? Don't look like no raider I ever seen, might be syndicate though.”

She bristled next to me at the male, “You know damn well my name is Georgia!” Calming herself, she continued, “Yeah, found er glassin tha place from up there,” she pointed at the building with a talon, “Said she just wanta make sure the place wasn't full of raider gits. Taken er ta see Steeler.”

While she conversed, I took in the sights around me, whoever was running this operation, they had a good thing going! It looked like this might be one of the only safe havens close to the university, judging on the number of caravans held up in the protected courtyard. The Steel rangers must not have had much interest in the hotel, because aside from the small outpost situated by the cavernous entrance to the actual building, they had almost no ponies milling around. Although with all the griffons around, I doubted they needed to defend the place themselves.

Then I realized all the assembled griffons were staring at me. “Um… what?” And then Georgia snorted again, “Im… easily distracted sometimes.” I retorted, ears laid back.

The lead male griffon deadpanned, “I don think she needs ta see Steeler.” My face flushed as he looked me over, “Do ya even know what the syndicate is?”

“Well… um… they’re… ponies?” I tried, utterly at a loss.

The extra griffons face… clawed? And evidently lost interest as they walked away, leaving me with Georgia and the male. “Congrats Georgie, ya caught a tourist.”

Flustered even more, I responded with all the dignity I could muster, “I am not a tourist! Im a dangerous merc looking for work!” And just like that I sounded like a spoiled child.

“A merc without a gun huh?” He flatly stated before addressing Georgia, “Take her to the inn, make sure she doesnt start any trouble, then get back on patrol.” Without another word, he spread his wings and huffed out of sight.

“Fuckin arsehole.” Georgia muttered under her breath, “Welp, Gust says to babysit ya, so lets get inside.” She shrugged and started for the entrance, leaving me to catch up.

Curious, I asked a question that had been on my mind the whole time, “So… what's up with your accent?”

Now it was her turn to change color, “My wot?”

“Yeah, I've never heard a griffon talk like you before.” I clarified, taking a small amount of enjoyment at her discomfort.

“I'm from Trottingham, tha whole company is.” She pumped a fist against her chest proudly, ”We got standards on the jobs we take, which is why we make sure this place don't get got by tha cunts in the ruins.” Her voice was full of honest conviction, and I had to admire her for it.

We entered the inn’s lobby, and were met by an assortment of sounds and smells seemingly tailor made to assault my senses. There was something of a party going on in the foyer, the cracked granite floor filled with dancing inebriated ponies. High above on third story balconies, stony faced griffins kept a vigilant watch for danger. In the center of it all was a small island reception desk that had been turned into a turntables for a DJ. Said DJ wore a masquerade half mask that didn't hide his offensively purple hide or green mane.

Georgia led me around the edge of the morass as the upbeat music beat my eardrums relentlessly. We ducked into a sidehall that ran the length of the building from end to end and followed it down to another room. This one was a bar absolutely crammed full of ponies. Once again I found myself marveling at just how many ponies lived in Chicacolt.

It looked a lot like a regular saloon style bar, with tables spaced around the room for patrons refreshments and the bar itself set into the far wall manned by a strange orange mare in an overcoat and a stupid floppy hat. Her pink eyes focused on me as Georgia cleared a path to the bar, a nervous energy emanating off her.

Dispite that, she easily flicked two glassed from behind the counter up and deftly caught them in her hooves before setting them down, “Hey Georgia, whos your friend?” Her voice flowed out of her like a soothing river.

“I’m Sapphire Sands,” I read her little pinned on name tag, “Eighty Proof? I like it! Whats a mare got to do for a-” And then I remembered I had absolutely no caps. Shit.

She looked at me expectantly, no chance for drinks then, still I needed a place to sleep. I gave her an easy smile and pressed on, “So who do I have to talk to about getting a room for the night?”

She seemed to squirm just a little from my attention, “Well, um, I actually own the place,” she said, waving an orange hoof around her, “Sooo, me?” Her phrasing left it more like a question than a statement of fact, and threw me for a slight loop.

Here was the owner of this establishment, a bustling and obviously very successful Inn, almost blushing at some attention. Huh. Interesting.

She continued, pouring some sugary smelling liquor into the two glasses and following up with something a little fruity, “Normally it's a hundred caps a night.” I fluttered my eyelashes at her, “But… we have a discount to fifty caps...” I put on my best puppy dog eyes and pouted at her, “Y-you can pay me back...” Pulling all the stops, I poured my heart and soul into it, “Gah! Room 408, its being used as a stockroom anyway… just don't make a mess.” She conceded defeat and ducked below the counter, withdrawing a small brass key and handing it over to me.

Ah, small victories! I levitated the key and my drink up to me, taking a small sip, mmm! Fruity warmth spread through me as I took a more liberal swig. Eighty Proof had moved off to attend to other patrons, leaving me with my griffon babysitter. Georgia just smirked at me, “Never seen ‘er get all worked up like that!” Her own drink in her claws.

“Well I'm a little broke right now, ‘i'll feel like an asshole for using her tomorrow.” I stared at the cute orange mare, something didn't sit right with me about her. For all intents and purposes she was a perfectly normal mare, a tiny bit shorter than me, orange, an earth pony, pink eyes. She did wear that ridiculous coat and floppy hat, which hid her ears and mane from view, as well as most of her body.

Maybe she was just trying to hide a horrible scar? A pretty face like hers wouldn't be complimented well by a body covered in burns. That much was for sure. Then as I stared, it hit me. She hasn't blinked a single time since I’d first seen her. And now that I noticed it, the lack of blinking jumped out at me. Sure she was expressive with her eyes and eyelids, but there wasn't a blink like you’d describe one. There were winks, frustrated eye rolls, suspicious half lidded looks, but no blinking.

Then I became aware that I had been very conspicuously oggiling the poor bartender pony when she turned around and made direct eye contact with me. I broke first when Georgia laughed, drawing my attention back to her, “Maybe you got a thing for the barpony too?” Now it was my turn to flush.

Just because I was doing important information gathering, didn't mean I had a thing for anypony! Besides, not like I could stare at her flank through the coat, because I most certainly tried. “Shut the hell up, you funny talking chicken.” I hotly replied back at her, to yet more laughter.

“If it makes ya feel better, she must have at least a hundred drunk ponies hit on her a day, you're the first to get that kind of a response from er!” The griffon downed her drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar.

I kept nursing my own as Eighty Proof made rounds and topped off Georgia’s drink, pointedly looking at anything that wasn't me. “But Georgie-” A death glare from the griffon made me stutter, “Georgia! Georgia, have you ever noticed she doesn't blink?” I lowered my voice a tad, not that it would have mattered, with the absolutely deafening din of ponies getting drunk all around us.

She squinted down the bar very conspicuously for several seconds before turning back to me, “Huh, come to think it, never did notice that. I'm pretty sure Im normally too drunk to notice that.” She smirked yet again, “Then again I ain't one to stare at pretty bar ponies.”

I laid my ears back and bit my lip, “Is there any work to do around here? I kinda need caps.” I changed the topic.

She tapped the glass against her beak thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering, “None that I can think of nah.” Placing down her again empty glass she started counting off on her claws, “Security, nah, housekeeping, nah, Caravan guard?” She stopped, “That's dangerous work in this city.”

I finished my own drink and sighed heavily, “Yeah, don’t I know that.” I stated, resigned to my impending poverty, the old familiar sting.

She didn't ask what I meant but kept going on her train of thought, “Honestly you need a weapon for most jobs around here, something you're sorely lackin’.”

Then through the din, a radio crackled to life and a ghoul’s hard boiled voice met my ears, “Good evening my little ponies, its me, the speaker of truth, the bearer of tidings both good and bad, the master of the waves, Seeing Eye!” His antics reminded me very strongly of Mr. DJ Pon3 back home, except instead of a smooth and handsome stallion, I got the impression that this Seeing Eye was a tired old stallion just trying to be energetic because he knew of no other way.

“I've got some news for all of you, since I know what you like to hear!” I noticed that the bar had gotten markedly quieter while the ghoul’s program ran, “First up, some good news! There's been a lull in the fighting between the Steel Rangers and the Tribal Coalition to the northwest as reported sightings of Enclave soldiers outside of O’Hare Skyport have nearly tripled in the last week. Ranger Officials, while hesitant to discuss the matter with yours truly, did admit that the Rangers have halted their offensive into Tribal land in lue of these developments. While the long term implications of this might be dire indeed, I think a drop off in killing of any sort is great news! Wouldn't you agree? Now, fisherponies living in The Pier have been experiencing more creature attacks than normal, its not known what is driving the plethora of baddies out of the deeper lake, but until further notice it is advised you avoid the lake front area. If you happen to be in the area, The Pier could use some ammo. I have it on good authority that, while the Wasters have been quiet up to this point, that may not stay the case. Ranger Sources have leaked to me that large amounts of, and I quote, ‘Something truly horrible’ have been massing to the south west. What this means is anypony’s guess. Lastly, the Steel Rangers have raised the bounty on their notorious runaway once more. The bounty on AVI has been raised to one hundred thousand caps, I am now obligated to read you her description.” There was the sound of papers flipping and a throat being cleared, “Pink, pink eyes, white and blue mane, robotic bat pony, blah blah blah. You've heard the same shit a million times, they ain't never gonna catch that filly. Im Seeing Eye, conveying to my loyal listeners the latest dirt in Chi Town, until next we meet, here’s some Sweetie Belle!”

The song was lost as the noise closed in around us again, but I was staring at Eighty Proof. The mare seemed almost frozen to the ground in fright. Why would the very hefty bounty on some robot bother her? Maybe she was friends with this AVI robot… thing…

Quick as lighting, Eighty Proof was back to tending her patrons, who seemed blissfully ignorant of her little episode. Even Georgia had missed it! Whatever, it was a problem for somepony else.

Then again, if she knew where I might be able to get one hundred thousand caps… No! I wasn't a bounty hunter. But wasn't I a merc? Mercs did whatever jobs came their way, and I’d done that in the past. Slaving made me squeamish, but Id dealt with slavers before. Was I proud of it? No. But it put food in my belly, and ammo in my guns.

A heavy blow fell on my shoulder and I turned to see Georgia grinning at me, “Oi, I gotta get back out there, I'll leave you to oggle the pretty ponies,” Her face turned deathly serious for a second, “Don't start any trouble.” Then it was back to smiles and laughs, “See ya round girly!”

And then I was alone. Well, as alone as somepony can be in a room bustiling with others. Nothing else to do, I decided to call it a night, even if my internal clock said it was only just about sundown. I needed to get an early start on tomorrow, start on what? That was a good question. Id figure that one out later.

Turning my glass upside down, I waded through the throng of ponies laughing and playing various card games. Out in the hallway, I was relieved to find that the noise was bearable. After spending half an hour trying to find the damn stairs, I made my way up to the fourth floor and sought out my room.

When the barkeep said it was being used as a storeroom, I had not really known what to expect, but as I swung the door wide and flicked the lightswitch I was greeted by a luxurious suite complete with a kitchen, a bathroom, and even a walk in closet. Compared to most rooms I’d rented out, this was a palace! The single bed was enormous, and could easily accommodate multiple ponies at once with room to spread out. The walls were stacked floor to ceiling with all manor of things a hotel would need, from extra beds to lenins, and even spare furniture. The kitchen was filled with different alcohols, some Id never even heard of with zebra glyphs on them!

The thought did cross my mind to swipe as much as I could and bolt, but then the rational side of me remembered the small army of griffons that would be all too happy to hunt me down in the wastes. Scratch that one right out! Thankfully the bed was left unoccupied, and was even made! Score!

Carefully, I shucked myself out of my gear and neatly folded it into a pile beside the bed on the floor. Trying the shower revealed a working water talisman and I enjoyed my first hot shower in an awfully long time.

Feeling absolutely pampered, I crashed on the bed and promptly passed out, a content smile on my muzzle.

***

Something crashed and jolted me awake, pulling me out of the pleasant dream I was having, something about the sun I was pretty sure. Scanning the room, I found nothing, but heard a steady streams of curses emanating from the kitchen. Sticking my head into the confined space, I beheld Eighty Proof balancing a dozen bottles on her back while grumbling and wiping the remains of another off her hooves.

She looked up as I made my entrance and flushed a little, “Oh, you're awake, my bad.” She pointed at the shattered corpse of an expensive bottle, “I broke a bottle.” Smiling, I levitated up as many shards as I could see and floated them to a nearby trash bin.

“I see that. Why do you keep all this booze up here?” I asked, genuinely curious.

She looked at me with only what I could describe as a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Because, it's the last place anyone looking to rob me would think I had anything important.” She started to place the bottles on her back in one of the many refrigerators along the wall, “Did you expect to see all this here?”

She did have a point, and I shook my head. An awkward silence befell us as I searched for a way to ask what I wanted to know and she finished putting away the liquor. Finally I just spit it out, “You know AVI, that robot with the huge bounty on her head.”

The name made her freeze, and slowly she turned her orange head towards me, “I know of her.” She said flatly, carefully.

I’d struck a nerve by asking, it seemed. “Who is she? And why do the Rangers want her so bad?” I needed to tread carefully in order to get what I wanted.

With a heavy sigh, Eighty Proof sat down hard and rubbed her forehead, “Its a long story...” She breathed, then in a louder voice, “She’s a very advanced infiltration robot from before the war. You could say she and I were… close.” She looked past me, as if seeing something that wasn't there anymore, “They did things, the rangers, they did horrible things to her, and one day she decided it was enough and escaped.” Almost like an afterthought, she added, “I found her then, started this Inn together, and I haven't seen her in a decade.”

Something about the way she said it struck me as only half true, but her reaction to telling the story was enough to convince me that at least most of it was tangent the truth. Which was much more than I had hoped to get. “So.. you wouldn't happen to know where she might be?” And that was the point I realized Id misstepped.

Cold fury spread across her face and she advanced on me, I took an involuntary step back as she came nose to nose with me, “I haven't seen her. And if I did, why would I turn her over to a bounty hunter?”

I was struck to silence by her sudden mood change, but as she drew herself up for a more cutting remark, an explosion above us shook the entire building, cutting Eighty Proof off.

“What in the goddesses name?” She yelled as several more detonations threw us off our hooves. I had to cover my head as bottles crashed around me, shattering into dangerous shards.

Then it was over. An awful mess had been made in the kitchen and as I stumbled off in search of my gear. “It sounded a lot like artillery!” I yelled back, strapping on the pitiful barding and cursing my lack of guns, but snatching up a particularly long cooking knife out of blind instinct. The harbor defense guns around Friendship city had only fired their guns twice while I was in the city, their bone jarring reports were far deeper than what had rattled the hotel, but the effect was much the same.

“I'm going downstairs, I need to find out what's doing this!” Eighty Proof called as she bolted for the door, but I was staring out the now shattered window, at the verifiable army amassed before the front gate.

Being on the fourth floor, I had a good vantage point overlooking the courtyard, where ponies ran every which way in utter confusion. Griffons wrestled to keep the crowd under control while their comrades rushed into prepared defensive positions.

Facing them were about three dozen ponies all dressed in dingy white combat armor wielding a wide assortment of weapons from pool cues to grenade machine guns. Each of them sported a large hourglass shaped icon somewhere on their bodies and they were backed up by three tanks!

Id seen such machines of war before, rusted and broken, relics of a bygone era . But these were freshly painted white with red highlights along their barrels. They were terrifying things, squat and wide, like someone had stepped on them with a heavy hoof and holding a turret with a single large caliber cannon set into it. The sides held sponsons with dual machine guns poking out.

Quickly I scrambled away from the window before someone thought I was a sniper and raced to catch up with Eighty Proof.

I caught her as she jumped down the last flight of stairs with a resounding clunk and barreled out the door to the lobby, “Who are those ponies?!” I ran beside her, dodging hungover or still partying patrons.

“Im pretty sure its the syndicate again!” She broke out into the courtyard where the griffons had managed to herd the caravaners inside for the most part.

Breathlessly, “Who are they? Why do they have tanks!” We slowed to a trot and I fought to catch my breath, damn was I out of shape!

“They’re a criminal gang from before the war, they operate out of a stable in the suburbs west of here.” We neared a gathering of griffons giving the loudest orders, “They have an agreement with the Rangers, the Syndicate gets to do whatever it wants, so long as they don't interrupt the war effort, and the rangers don't have to worry about fighting them.”

An old grey griffon huffed on a pipe as we trotted up, he bowed his head respectfully to Eighty Proof before actually speaking, “Looks like the gits mean business this time, boss. Pitch is here with them to boot.”

At my questioning look, Eighty clarified, “Pitch Black, he's their leader. Almost never leaves his Stable unless something big is going on.” Then she turned to the griffon, “Open the gate Steele, I'll talk to him.”

With only a hesitant nod, the gate was swung open, revealing the decaying face of a black unicorn ghoul. He wore gleaming white power armor and I had the immediate urge to wretch as he sauntered up through the entrance as if he didn't have a care in the world. With no less than a dozen weapons pointed at him, I couldn't imagine he was as calm as he appeared.

When his voice came, it wasn't the rough sandpaper I expected, but the suave tones of an experienced con man, “Eighty Proof, babe, it's been far too long since we spoke face to face!” He smiled with those cracked, dead lips, a smile that didn't even touch his milky white eyes.

“Probably because the last time I spoke to you, it was on the other side of a gun pointed at your head.” She practically spat at him, “We aren't interested in paying protection money, so what do you want?”

I couldn't help but be impressed with her composure, I could feel the tension between the two building more and more yet she didn't even bat an eye.

The ghoul pressed an armored hoof to his chest, feigning a hurt look, “Babe, you wound me, running right to business like that! Is it the tanks? I think it's the tanks.” He smiled again and stomped his hoof down, “I knew they would be a bit overkill!” Then his face darkened and the grin turned even more sinister, “I'm here for you, actually.”

Just like that, the bravado crumbled and Eighty Proof stuttered, “I- What do you mean me?” She took a step back toward the safety of her guards and Pitch just laughed.

“Oh come on, the bounty! I'm here to collect, to take you home to papa, AVI.” The sickly sweet words dripped like venom from his mouth, and the revelation staggered a few of the guards, but most seemed steadfast, “Oh yes!” He shouted, not at Eighty Proof but to everyone nearby, “Has anyone noticed that she never eats? Or drinks? Or Blinks? Or breathes?!”

Eighty Proof just stood, frozen, seemingly unable to respond or even deny it. Pitch took the opportunity and pressed the attack, “Im here to collect a bounty, but anyone who stands down will find employment with the Syndicate at this very Inn.”

Steele decided to step in then, and he stood next to Eighty Proof, “Griffons honor their contract,” But even as he said it, I could tell a sizeable chunk of the guards were thinking about it. “Close the gate!” And the metal door was slammed in Pitch Black’s still smiling face.

Then he let out a breath and turned to his boss, “I don't care if what he said is true or not, but ya are not safe here, ya really should leave.” I scooted closer to hear their whispered conversation.

“Where would I go?” She breathed back, still somewhat in shock. Then all at once, she shook off the daze and her bravado came back, and all three tanks opened fire on the wall.

Steele lept into action, yelling at his griffons, most of whom only hesitated for a second before complying… but they did hesitate.

I on the other hoof, couldn't really do anything, not without a weapon. And then Georgia landed heavily next to me, shoved a battered and rusted sniper rifle into my face and grinned so wide I thought her face would split, “I gotcha a gift! Can't ave ya bringin ya horn to a gunfight!” The weapon she had given me was in simple terms, a piece of shit.

The barrel was so rusted, it looked like the metal itself was orange instead of black, and the stock was only a wire skeleton where the wood had rotted off. The scope at least looked functional, and the action was… working, but by and large I think I'd rather be unarmed. She passed me a few magazines and when I turned to Eighty Proof again I found her nose to nose with me again.

“Um, hi?” I stammered at the sudden intrusion of my personal space, heedless of the battle now raging around us.

“I have a job for you.” She pointed at me and the griffon her voice was all business, “I need bodyguards, we’ll talk pay later, follow me.” A little too quickly she turned and galloped for the entrance.

I exchanged a confused look with Georgia and sighed heavily yet again. I wasn't sure I wanted to have too much to do with whoever Eighty Proof said she was, especially not with how often she just ran off on her own, but my need for caps won against self preservation and I ran after her, swiftly followed by Georgia.

Again we weaved through the throngs of now panicking ponies into the dim and quiet bar. The bar keep swiftly grabbed a pair of already prepared saddle bags and tossed them on, only stopping to buckle them. Then she kicked a mat up off the floor and revealed a trap door leading down into the basement.

She gave us a sly look as we pondered the darkness, “What? I was prepared for this?”

I paused as our griffon shrugged and ducked into the hole, “What should I call you? Eighty Proof or AVI?” I asked, a little harsher than I had meant to, but honestly I felt a little lied to.

To my surprize, she actually looked ashamed, averting her eyes, “Just call me AVI… Eighty Proof… I dont deserve that name.” She didn't let me respond before jumping into the dark as well, so I followed behind, closing the hatch with my magic.

The dank basement smelled of mildew and wood rot, the bare cement underhoof clacked and clicked as we walked. Tables and chairs stood stacked along the walls and everything was covered in a generous coating of dust.

“Don't clean down here much do ya, Proof?” Georgia commented, she let AVI take the lead while I brought up the rear.

“I don't normally have much reason to come down here, aside from stashing random things I like.” She looked around for a second as if lost, then trotted up to a random brick wall and pressed a sequence of bricks, “I also don't have to breathe, so dust isn't an issue.”

The wall hissed softly and fell into the floor, revealing a dimly lit room lined with enormous barrels. Most of them were rotted or smashed through, but a few still kept their integrity. One of these AVI trotted up to, twisted the spigot upside down, and then yanked it out about half an inch. A small patch of wooden door swung out with it and revealed a massive horde of caps, gems, and gold!

My jaw hit the floor as she reached in and withdrew three bags each marked with a one, “Here, its a thousand caps, should get us pretty far.” I started to argue that we should bring more, but then a particularly heavy detonation on the floor above us shut me up.

“Sweet, I love being paid up front!” Georgia shouted as she stuffed her booty into her own bags.

AVI rolled her eyes with a small smile and started trotting down the hallway. We came to a decrepit door barely hanging onto its hinges and AVI stopped once again. “I-I know I’m paying you, but you don’t have to do this.” She rubbed the back of her head with a smudged orange hoof, looking at the ground.

I don’t know what possessed me just then, but I smiled, “Well, I don’t have anything else to do.” I hefted my neigh useless hunk of junk sniper, “Besides, I came here looking for work anyway, might as well it be in good company.” I pointedly ignored Georgia’s snickers.

“The guys can handle a few Syndicate gits, I ain’t too worried bout em.” Was all she said as she readied her own rifle.

AVI returned my smile, looking reassured. It was second time Id seen past her shields, and I couldn't quite describe what I felt about that. “Ok! Well… We shouldn’t have too far to go in the sewers… not like we should be down here in the first place...”

She didn’t elaborate and instead pushed the ancient door open and headed through, leaving me and Georgia to scramble after her yet again, only this time, into the deep unknown of the Chicacolt sewers. Oh the places I went.

Footnote; Level up!

New Trait; Wandering Mind, Wandering Hooves; You're easily distracted, you can’t help it if the world is more interesting than who you’re talking to! +1 Perception

New Quest Perk; Cherchez La Machine; +10% damage against robotic enemies, plus unique dialogue options.

Author's Note

Author's Notes: And then there were two! Second chapter of what I hope to someday be a story is out! Thank you as always to Kkat and their many disciples for the world I write in, and thank you, to you, the reader, for taking the time to enter my little world! Thanks also to Serious Lizard and Universe Taken for editing this into something readable and keeping me on track. Stay tuned for the next chapter.

Editor’s Note: Somebody teach Mad Moon how to use an apostrophe because it is the only thing I hate more than I hate the Zebra menace. Only you can prevent bad grammar.

Mad Moon: Ah but thats why I keep you around Serious.