Fallout Equestria: Storms of the Divide

Chapter 21: Cycle of Violence

Red Eagle scratched his head as he sat alongside one of Green’s ‘mercenaries’, piercing eyes scanning the visible horizon of buildings and their roofs as he searched for sentries and other threats to the proposed plan of attack. His attention was split, however, between the search, the mare he sat beside who was obviously a raider, and the seeming absolute disappearance of Sparks earlier in the day; the last source of disturbance the most aggravating to him as he almost seethed, angered eyes scanning for both holes in their defenses and that foolish filly. It was close to an hour ago when they finished up their little war-room preparations, if they could even call it that. It had all the hallmarks of a simple raid, albeit a better planned one he had to admit.

It left a bad taste in his beak, but he merely swallowed as he held his breath next to the unkempt mare; her jittering nature agitating. She looked to Eagle, and with a little cackling giggle she spoke in a broken language one could call ponish if they were drunk, or more lenient on pronunciation.

“What’cha see out there bird-eyes? Many guards?”

“Shut it.” he said, suppressing a grumble under his breath as he kept scanning the buildings. He mused that ponies had a tendency to forget of the aerial approach. Under the cover of night he could easily slip in and leave certain doors unlocked and their respective guards dead, but the impatience of Green demanded an easy access within the next hour. That was when she would pounce with her arrayed teams.

The tight timeframe left little choice but to find a hole in their defense and make it as wide as possible, but he had difficulty focusing as the mare spoke again; her speech grating. “Lookie lookie, a gate I think!”

“I said shut it...!” Eagle saw the gate earlier she spoke of, and was astounded it took this long for her to notice it. He knew there were two or three guards posted there, which he thought was odd at best. A rather light defense for what Green had said, and it merely made him shake his head as he knew the mare was lying. His mind raced a little when, out of the corner of his eye he saw the same trio of guards become merely a pair as one peeled off to go elsewhere, and shortly after one of the guards whipped to attention, rifle raised.

He paid particular attention to that spot for a moment, hoping to glean something from the spectacle, but before long, to his immense surprise, Sparks, that little mare in a bright blue and gold jumpsuit, simply strolled up to the gate and spoke to one of them. Wide eyed he focused intently on that spot, his thoughts now a flurry of questions and demands he couldn’t sound off, but more astoundingly the guards merely let her inside after a short exchange. After she disappeared into the town, Eagle’s suspicions were confirmed; Green must have simply had eyes for Good Neighbor’s resources, pure and simple.

Eagle made a quick note of the gate’s lightly guarded nature, stood up slowly keeping low, and merely walked off; leaving the mare behind as she scrambled to her hooves to follow while voicing numerous questions he paid no attention to. He had to accelerate the schedule as soon as possible. Sparks’ life was more valuable to him than the lives of Green’s mercs, and he would be damned if The Gunponies were to rob him of his escort.

Although, part of him twisted at the idea, some small part that likened her to more of an acquaintance than asset. He grumbled, cursing under his breath as he made a beeline for Green’s forward base, and above all he wondered what in the wide world of Equestria Sparks was thinking as he grimaced.

*** *** ***

Sparks stood apart of everypony inside the office of Ashmaker; the oversized and burly stallion himself sat behind his desk before her with the purple maned mare behind her. She looked around the dimly lit office, its comparative wealth beyond the town with banners of the gang’s regalia lining the walls and furniture that actually seemed close to normal. Appliances, though half wrecked, seemed to be operational as Ashmaker sipped on a cup of coffee from a brewing pot, and others lined the walls and cabinets that implied this office wasn’t merely a leader’s point of authority, but his own home.

In the background a radio played a lazy musical number of swing, and if it weren’t for that the room’s ambience would have been dominated by their brooding silence. The mare was the first to speak as she stood by the door; her voice edged with caution. “Ashmaker, we got a potential problem on our hooves.”

“Is that so Stiletto...?” The deep and coarse rumbling voice of the massive stallion set Sparks on edge, but the orange eyes beneath his burgundy mane that drilled into her with shameless suspicion made her flinch. She knew it was a long shot for her to believe the ruse, but she had to remind herself all she needed was to get close to him. Before long, the mare, Stiletto she knew now, spoke again lengthily with an accusing air.

“Yeah, little filly here says that some bloke named ‘Wagon’ is insisting on delivering information to yah, free of charge and all.”

“‘Wagon’, eh?” He started chuckling darkly, taking a sip of his coffee before pulling out a cigar; biting off the tip with his teeth. “If only I knew a Wagon, I’d recall a pony traipsing around here like that. Sounds like he’d be a caravan driver.”

“My thoughts exactly, boss.”

Sparks’ mind now raced as she tried to keep calm. She had just barely stepped hoof into the office and she could tell they didn’t buy her story. A small part of her silently hoped that, if they did decide to attack her, the tribal was close by to help out, but she didn’t have long to hope that as Ashmaker spoke again with a raised brow; his voice echoing slightly in the room and her ears. “So, what do yah think? Spy or hitpony type?”

“Eh, yah nevah know with Stable ponies; always a bag of surprises.”

Sparks heard the telltale sound of magic, followed by what she only knew as a locking door behind her. She panicked a little, and spoke out hastily with her fears plainly worn on her face. “N-now wait just a moment...! I’m not either of t-those!”

“Then what are yah, little filly?” Stiletto said accusingly as she circled around Sparks with her horn angled towards her. “I ain’t seen yah ‘round here before, and the first thing yah wanna do is randomly ask to speak with the boss on account of some mystery pony you made up? That entire story would be fishy enough, were it not for you.”

“What do you-” Sparks began to ask, but before she could finish Ashmaker interrupted with a laugh as he lit his cigar with a flip lighter.

“What she means Stable Filly is that we ain’t too ignorant out here in the middle of nowhere, especially with this wonder of technology ‘ere.” Sparks turned around and saw as he pointed to the radio box on a shelf. A grin crossed his beige cheeks as she visibly shrunk a touch at the realization. He continued shortly after taking a drag off his cigar; the noxious fumes billowed forth.

“Yah see, word has it a little Stable Filly, much like yahself, crawls outta some southern hole in hell itself I ain’t evah heard of... with a certain griffon in tow.” Sparks’ eyes went wide as she realized they knew of her and Eagle’s travels together, but before she could interject, Ashmaker continued. “The story goes that an entire gang of chem fiend raiders are takin’ a dirt-nap. The numbers aren’t clear but I know that bird’s claw work; still got the stains in my carpet.”

He pointed down to Sparks’ hooves, and her eyes followed the motion down to see deeply blackened blemishes in the carpet’s once mostly muted hues. They were large, almost pony shaped with signs of struggle that dragged out for a few hooves distance. Her eyes were transfixed on the evidence, and she spoke shakily as her heart plummeted; realization as to why Eagle had to leave kicking in. “You mean... he killed somepony here?”

“So you are that filly traveling with ol’ Red Eagle himself.” He said, chuckling as he took a drag off his cigar. “Granted, the bastard deserved it, I’ll give ‘em that, but yah don’t go around killin’ folks ‘cause they deserve it; not on their home turf. Makes me wonder why he didn’t tell yah about it though; not like he ain’t one for it.” He scowled however, and his voice dropped low and eyes narrowed as he continued. His sheer intimidation factor had Sparks reeling with wide eyes. “Now, the fun part is, if you’re here, then ol’ Red is too... And that I can’t have. I haven’t seen him yet, so he’s out in the city, hidin’, and you’re here walkin’ into my front door. That doesn’t leave much to the imagination as to why.”

Sparks heard magic glimmer from Stiletto again, and as she turned her head, wide eyed she saw the mare pull a blade of her namesake; a long and shiny slender blade wreathed in the purple magical aura matching her horn, and most importantly with the tip aimed at her. Ashmaker spoke up again, however, only his words dripped with danger towards her. “Now, I’ll give yah the benefit of the doubt and give you thirty seconds to explain yourself, or Stiletto here’s gonna give yah a new face before yah croak.”

“Erm... uh, eh...” Sparks stuttered as she backpedaled, and her eyes darted back and forth between them as she tried to search for some means of escape or convincing them to stay their wrath, but her brain was caught up in the shock of the utter failure of her attempted disguise; all thanks to the radio.

Stiletto took a hoofstep toward her, and Sparks immediately began half shouting as she panicked in her speech. “A-alright alright, look just... just let me talk!”

“Yah got twenty five seconds, now.” Ashmaker said, and Sparks had to catch her breath and simply let it roll out through the panic.

“A-alright, the truth is, I uh.... Me and Eagle didn’t want to stop by Good Neighbor at all. He didn’t say why he wanted to avoid this place truly, but we needed supplies to go west. W-we were running low on food and we had to come here for it.” Her eyes darted back and forth between them as they maintained stony glowering faces, analyzing everything she said. She continued after swallowing hard. “This pony, a mare named Green, offered to help us if we helped her, and she wanted help raiding the town for food as she’s having the same problem with food as we are!”

“Wait...” Stiletto said, eyes wide, but she peered over to Ashmaker as she regained her composure. “Attackin’ the town’s a mighty tall order for one mare, let alone three critters.”

“Only she isn’t alone! That’s why I’m here, I wanted to propose a trade; information on the attack so hopefully the attack never happens, in exchange for food... and medicine...!”

Ashmaker had to do a double take as his expression twisted into grimaces, and he half laughed at Sparks as he spoke. “Wait... tell me that bit again?”

“In exchange for-” She began to say before he grunted and shook his head. She stammered, and raised her brows with a nervous smile. “To stop the attack...?”

“Hah!! Oh, oh wow...! Now that’s precious!” Ashmaker chortled, almost violently as she looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “If those ponies out there are gearin’ up for an attack, then it’s only fair we do the same. Yah can’t talk a brahmin outta kickin’ it’s masters, I’m afraid; yah can only punish it for biting the hoof that feeds it. And the gangs out there in the city only respond to punishment; it’s the way it’s been in town for years, kid.”

Sparks had a moment of shock, aggravated that Ashmaker, or any pony, would simply perpetuate the cycle of violence for its own sake as it seemed. She stammered as she spoke, the aggravation making her voice carry. “But i-if there’s a chance at peace then why not try for it!? If we can organize a meeting, maybe no pony has to die over something as simple as food!”

Ashmaker simply sat there, and with a sudden burst of laughter he set his cigar down and took jovial pleasure in his judged ignorance of her. Stiletto chimed in with a shaking head, and smiled. “You definitely are a Stable filly, after all. In The Wasteland there ain’t anything like your idea of charity, and peace died a century ago.” She stood there with a pondering look, and amended her words with a shrug. “Even further, I guess. You’re hoping for sunshine, girl.”

“I... I guess...” Sparks suddenly felt terrible. Time after time she tried to prove the world wrong, but each and every time other ponies and creatures simply denied the possibility. Before long she sniffled, and a single tear formed in her eyes, and she forced herself to come to a conclusion; to tell them about the attack in exchange for supplies, and hope that would be enough.

Selling them out wasn’t an idea she was comfortable with in the slightest, but she realized that was somewhat what she planned on doing all along. She clammed up and held her head low before she spoke up again. “Look, I... Me and Eagle, we just need some provisions -- food and medicine -- and we’ll get out of town by sunset. That’s all we need, and...”

She paused, licked her lips and sighed as she looked around the room for some focus in her lie. She admitted it was only a half lie, but she still felt bad for it. Ashmaker looked at her with a glare as he smiled, the whole debacle amusing to him. “‘And’ what? You obviously got something to say, filly.”

“And... I’ll be willing to give you...” Some part of her heart twisted up inside as she realized she was resorting to selling out Green, the very mare she had killed raiders to save not even a month ago. Only now she had a mountain of confliction between having saved her versus her quick switch to raiding. ‘Back to’, she corrected, wholly convinced she was exactly as Eagle had said; little more than a captured pony from another gang.

The realization brought a somber tone to her voice, and her expression followed. “I’ll be willing to give you the location of Green and her gang’s hideout; In exchange for those supplies. Eagle and I will be out of your mane as soon as possible...”

“Throw in who this Green character is too.” Stiletto interjected as she kept her knife aloft. “I like to know who we’re fightin’ and why; yah said she was wantin’ to raid for food?”

Sparks turned her head to see her, her face nearly expressionless as she spoke softly. “That’s what she told us, although I’m not sure of anything anymore. She lied to us, said you closed your gates to travelers and the ponies outside of town were starving...”

“It’s their own fault, yah know?” Ashmaker said, as he shifted in his chair hoisting his cigar again, taking a drag. “When word got around a high roller got killed in town, and the killer walked free, this town went mad with problems. We got it locked down, but we don’t keep out the odd traveler; so long as they keep the peace.” He pointed his cigar out a window, and with a smug look he shrugged. “Those opportunists out there didn’t, so they go hungry; have to pick their meals off bones.”

Stiletto, nodding as she strolled slowly around Sparks with her blade, spoke up again; a brow raised. “Still haven’t told us much about Green. Tell us what yah know... and we’ll consider it.”

Sparks, broken a little in spirit, merely shrugged as she looked up, her eyes watering from birthing tears. Some small part of her was surprised she wasn’t sobbing, but the most of her didn’t care. She took a shallow, faltering breath as she spoke. “Green’s actually my fault, I guess... Eagle and I saved her from chem fiends near The Hoof’s border. He wouldn’t have stopped unless I insisted. They had her penned up... using her as only raiders do...”

As she remembered the scene she fought to maintain her composure. Her anger flew and the images burnt into her mind made her sweat from rage, but she remained like a statue; eyes drilling some unseen detail. Her voice seemed heavy. “She’s got a compound, west of here... huddled in some courtyard-”

And then, at the edge of her hearing a gunshot was heard. Sparks looked up, her eyes wide as she immediately realized her fears were coming sooner than she’d hoped. Ashmaker and Stiletto looked up too, ears perked as the single shot became three, and three became five. Before long a crescendo of gunfire turned into an all too recognizable hail of bullets that marked the breakout of battle.

Ashmaker leapt from his seat, poised for it as he spoke dangerously. “Yah didn’t feel it necessary to say ‘when’ the fight was starting, did yah filly?”

“But... I... I thought there was-” She said, mouth slack from surprise as her body tensed up, but Stiletto shot her a dire look, her eyes beaming with anger as she spoke out quickly. “Whaddaya want me to do with her, boss?”

“Just get her out of the way, quickly; we need to get out there and make sure the colts are fightin’ right!”

Sparks, in that split second, saw something peculiar. The two pips on the compass line in the top of her vision, turned from green to red. She looked to Stiletto, and worry crossed her face as the mare lunged forward after her with her knife, and Sparks just barely managed to bring herself to leap out of the way with a sudden dash of speed. Sparks looked at her, pleading in her eyes that she couldn’t voice as Stiletto made another jabbing attempt to end her life.

“Wait!! Just-” Sparks again had no time to speak as Stiletto made a lunge and slashing motion of the knife. The stab she avoided, but the slash laid the flesh on one of her hindlegs open. She gasped in shock as the pain felt like white hot fire across her leg, and she circled around her limping. Adrenaline began pounding in her ears as she came back around for another stab at her.

Stiletto’s attack just barely missed as Sparks made an unconscious decision to body slam her to the ground. She put all her strength into it, trying to knock her down so she could speak to stop her, but the cut robbed her ability to speak and her comparatively wimpy strength was thwarted by Stiletto’s. They wrestled for but a moment before Stiletto shoved her off with her hooves, and following it was a slash from her blade. The silver, purple wreathed blur skidded across Sparks’ armor, flaying open the soft ballistic fabric but leaving her unscathed. The follow up strike did not however as she thrust the blade back at her quarry.

Sparks, gasping with a deep felt, almost alien pain, looked down at the hilt of the stiletto as it protruded from her right shoulder, blade buried, and a sudden burst of adrenaline fueled something new in her. She had been angry, even raging before, but merely at the actions against others. This time, in a scant second, rage welled up inside her as she yanked the blade out of her with her teeth, a growling yelp of pain following between her gasps, and she charged after Stiletto with murder in her eyes; the cumulative anger and hatred of what The Wasteland did to ponies, and its blood haze tunnel vision, directed at her.

Stiletto’s eyes shot wide at the unexpected aggression, and she tried to get a hold on her knife again with her magic. She couldn’t pry it from Sparks’ teeth in those scant moments, so she tried yanking the blade off to the side to break Sparks’ path. She succeeded somewhat, but with a teeth bared growl she used to energy of the twist to kick out a hindleg mid-spin. Her hoof landed squarely on Stiletto’s jaw line, and the blow threw Stiletto’s head to her side.

The magical aura broken on the blade, Sparks made an instinctual spin of her body to bury the blade in Stiletto’s neck; her eyes betrayed the sudden savagery inside her. With a dull, wet sounding thunk Sparks made good on her intentions as her cheek met her target’s neck, and with a push of her neck and legs a small gush of blood adorned the right sight of Sparks’ face. Stiletto backed up to a wall, a hoof grasping the wound as she gasped for air in the sudden flood of pain. Fear was in her eyes, and Sparks’ primal side took a sick glee in it as she chased her down a mere moment later.

Out of reflex, Stiletto kicked out at her with a hindleg, and despite Sparks’ attempt to avoid it, the blow struck her chest; the soft armor buckling under the strength of the kick. She was thrown back, and again she dashed forward, her hooves slipping beneath her wild stamping pace, and she managed to dodge around Stiletto’s following strike. Getting in close, Sparks thrust the knife up point first, blindly trying to get some purchase in the strike, but she couldn’t as Stiletto suddenly pushed off the wall and took her with her in a tumble to the ground; the knife flying out of her teeth.

It was then that Sparks’ ears, ringing from her haze, was completely robbed with the tinnitus of a gun’s burst in the enclosed space, and the following rapid flashes cut away the darkness of the room in harsh highlights. She felt a pressure in a foreleg as they tumbled, another in her chest right after, but her adrenaline kept her from feeling much more than that. When they landed she tried to leap up from the ground, but found herself weighed down by Stiletto’s body, and as her eyes tried to focus she realized that Ashmaker stood a few paces away, a smoking machine pistol in his teeth and eyes locked as if in shock of what had happened in merely seconds.

The pistol dropped from his agape mouth and it clattered to the floor next to him as began to seethe, and silence, pierced only by the approaching gunfire, smothered the room before he spoke.

“You... yah made me shoot her!! You cunt!!” He shouted out in his own rage, his voice cracking from it. He stomped forward, anger and murder in his eyes as Sparks began to struggle beneath Stiletto’s weight to no avail, she barely made an inch out from under her before Ashmaker got to her, and she flinched as if trying to get further beneath her lifeless body as cover. Before he could grab her, however, the ceiling of the room fell through, and as the panels scattered another certain stallion landed on the ground behind him.

Sparks recognized him, the tribal that accompanied her there, and she started struggling again to get free. Ashmaker whipped his head around in surprise before leaping out of the way of the tribal’s opening attack, and what followed could only be described as a confusing brawl that leapt from wild strikes and grappling, and in that time Sparks managed to focus her adrenaline powered body to force the corpse off of her with strain.

She gasped, leapt to her hooves and found one of her forelegs wounded as it gave out from beneath her, but with the blood haze still enveloping her she growled with a primal force to push herself beyond the pain she didn’t bother to investigate. She looked up, blood from Stiletto’s neck hazing one of her eyes, and found Ashmaker in the brawling cluster before her. With a snap decision she charged forward, clenching her eyes shut and pointing her horn directly ahead of her as white hot pain cut into her deeply from what seemed like her entire body.

After a short distance of breakneck galloping, she was forced to a complete stop as her body jerked behind her. Opening her eyes she found her head stuck to Ashmaker’s side -- her horn buried to the forehead -- and she heard the ear splitting cry of growling pain from his voice through the tinnitus. In the split second that followed Ashmaker threw her off of him, a thread of blood trailing from her horn to the wound that fell to the floor in small splashes as Ashmaker’s clothes began to redden, and the tribal broke off of the attack and circled like a wolf eyeing their prey. Her eyes whipped around trying to find the next step in her play-by-play battle for survival, and found it lying next to him.

His pistol, sitting serenely on the floor, was suddenly enveloped in Spark’s magic as she hoisted it up and let loose an automatic burst from the machine pistol into Ashmaker pointblank. The recoil was impossible for her to control it seemed, despite her efforts, but in what seemed so short a time she saw spontaneous holes with small blood sprays riddle their way up his belly and into his legs. He gave out a colossal shout of agony that fell on Sparks’ deafened ears -- his body flinching at the overload of pain -- and he fell to the ground like a sack of vegetables; his limbs twitching as his instincts fought to keep his dead body alive.

Silence once again smothered the room, and Sparks held the machine pistol pointed at Ashmaker’s body. Her eyes were wide, stricken with an amalgam of emotions all at once as her sight tried it’s best to readjust to the abuse of the muzzle flashes. She involuntarily dropped the pistol and stood there as her body was locked in place.

The tribal stood up to his height, examining the corpses with a seemingly approving glare, and approached Sparks slowly, speaking low. “Well done... Little Mare.”

She had no energy for speech, but as she tried to walk forward her guts twisted up inside her. She tasted bile, mouth dry as her tongue felt like it was slipping backwards, and her eyes shook as the blood haze left her. Fully aware of herself again, she saw with clarity what the rage within her had done, and as her eyes turned to Stiletto’s body the blood pooled in large puddles beneath her. She looked back up to Ashmaker’s, and she found the same from the half dozen holes in his guts. She felt how they looked, and it only twisted her guts again as she gave airless gasps of pain.

She had no recourse, at the moment, other than heaving her own guts out onto the floor with a sudden, violent coughing fit as her mind now completely grappled with it. Her mouth spewed orange hued bile, and her body was wracked with agony as her wounds burned from exertion. When she felt like it was over, she coughed deeply with a throaty, coarse hacking as she looked behind her to her wounded hindleg. She found the gash leaking blood profusely down her leg and went to stand up, but between the sudden fire in her foreleg she found out the hard way she wasn’t done, and acidic fluids spewed from her again.

Once her body was done, she wiped her mouth with her good foreleg, clearing the spittle from her lips and smearing half of in on her cheek. Gasping for air between coughs as the tribal neared her slowly she spat a wad of stomach acid and saliva to the ground .He spoke to her with a hoof gesturing to her legs. “You are wounded...”

“No... no shit...!” She managed to say between labored breaths. She looked down to her other foreleg, and found a bullet hole puncturing the sleeve of her suit just below the knee, leaking blood. Dim eyed she gave a hollow growl of pain behind another coughing fit, and it took all her strength to remain standing. “The fuck gave it away...?”

“Your blood, Little-” He began to speak before Sparks gave a deep, aggravated groan of annoyance. He closed his mouth and nodded; realization in his following grunt.

Sparks tried to stand up fully, but as she did her wounds robbed the strength to, and she fell on her wounded knee. It ushered out a cry of pain from her, and the tribal moved to help her stand. He spoke quickly as she used him as a crutch. “We need to move, place of danger now; the gun’s roars near us.”

Sparks had all but forgotten the chaos that must be going on outside those walls, and she grunted lowly with a groan of pain as she nodded in agreement. She looked around, the blood in her eyes making vision near worthless, and she spoke in labored tones. “Can we go back the way you came...?”

“You cannot climb in such state, we can only-” Before he could finish his statement, a dangerously close exchange of gunshots sounded off down the hallway behind the door. A few bullets ripped their way through the wooden door and into several random furnishings through the room, and the tribal looked behind him quickly making a split second decision. He quickly hobbled Sparks over to cover behind Ashmaker’s desk, and he took a defensive position next to her after grabbing the machine pistol.

She looked up to her compass line, and squinted her eyes as she saw four little green pips arrayed beyond the door. She spoke again slowly, half gasping as she did. “They’re friendly...?”

“How would you know? Para Loose to trust.”

He gave her an accusing gaze before checking the pistol’s magazine. A few shots remained, so he ground his teeth into it and trained the barrel on the doorway as she spoke again; accusingly in her own tone after a cough. “Trust me, I... I know they’re not going to hurt us!”

He shook his head, merely lowering the pistol a little yet keeping ready to pounce. She groaned as she turned over and forced herself up onto her hooves, using the desk as support as she breathed deeply in shaky breaths. Soon after the door rocked in its hinges as a strike railed it from without, and one strike after another caused it to splinter and crack as the assailants beyond threw themselves into it.

Before long, the door burst open and two ponies piled through, a stallion and mare. Their weapon’s aims scattered about before locking onto them, but they held their fire as they kept them trained on them. Sparks saw through her clouded vision that their garbs resembled the tribal’s in their decrepitude, down to the fetishistic feathers and totems, and would have smiled were it not for the circumstances.

The mare of the two spoke, and her oddly enunciated words were little more than gibberish to Sparks, but the tones weren’t; they were tones of happiness. The tribal stallion dropped the machine pistol, delicately, and neared the others with his own fast paced speech she couldn’t understand, but she gave a little smile as it seemed apparent they cared for each other in their voices.

But what caught her attention was who piled in behind them; Green and Red Eagle, and the tribal looked to them with what could have been described as a smile, were it not for the eternal frown he wore. “Chief, Sky-Bird. You live.”

“Don’t sound so surprised there, guy.” Green said, looking around Ashmaker’s office as she entered with a spirit of victory about her; her eyes wandering the room with something akin to a magpie’s greed. Eagle, however, merely stood there with a piercing gaze caught between anger and surprise directed at Sparks. He himself was covered in blood spray, but he seemed stricken by her own state of being.

He entered slowly, looking down at the corpses of Stiletto and Ashmaker as he strolled up with lightly falling limbs. He rolled his tongue around to wet his dry beak as he saw the damage done, and turned his eyes to Sparks. He saw the bullet hole and stab wound in her leg, a gash in one of her hindlegs, the torn open ballistic vest from a blade and gunshot too close.

Above it all, the sheer amounts of blood on her left him near speechless. “Sparks...” His eyes trailed from the blood on her hindleg, up the suit where blotches and stains scattered on her barding from legs to neck, and then up to her face and horn where it seemed every feature was coated in crimson bands. He gave a silent sigh, and locked eyes with her, his own bearing a numbed expression, with an odd look she’d never seen before. “We need to talk.”

*** *** ***

Sparks sat on a chair, now stained red from her and her enemies’ blood, as Eagle and she were downstairs in the main lobby of the Gunponies’ building. The furnishings were wrecked with fresh wounds upon ancient scars, banners ripped from the walls and trampled as the bodies of the old gang were arrayed around the room, shot dead and left to lie. The battle was over, with several teams of ponies scattered about searching for survivors and anything they could scavenge from the aftermath, and Eagle dipped his claws in a small bowl of clear alcohol gripping a suture needle.

He brought the needle back as he worked it and the thread attached sealing her wounds. She was naked, save for her PipBuck, and the rest of her disheveled and filthy belongings were piled up next to her beside the chair. She felt the unbearable chills from beyond the room as the wind picked up, and shivered intensely as she coughed a little more, but kept herself as still as possible in the silence pierced only by the wayward chattering of distant ponies.

Eagle glowered deeper than he was as he looked off, watching as one of the raiders he accompanied there looting some distant half wrecked cabinet down the hall. He looked out a shattered window and up into the darkening sky and sighed as he found the will to speak up for the first time in thirty odd minutes. “You shouldn’t have run off like that, Sparks.”

She groaned mutely as she shook her head. Weak and tired she spoke sparingly, softly with a surprising conviction. “I didn’t have a choice...”

“The fuck you didn’t...!” He whispered as he kept stitching her gash together. After a moment he shook his head, speaking again lowly as he kept his eyes trained on the wound. “You could have stayed at the compound, or could have given me time for some work around once I figured out some way to get around this shit.”

“I couldn’t take that risk...” She sighed, strain on her voice every time he pulled a stitch taut in her flesh. “I tried to stop that attack from... from ever happening, I... I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting by and... and doing nothing...”

“Instead...” he whispered, shaking his head again “you go into town to do what exactly? Definitely wasn’t to kill the two ponies responsible for the problem.”

“No...!” She exclaimed, the twist of her neck causing her whole body to tremble with pain. She coughed, caught her breath afterwards, and spoke again. “No, of course not... I was trying to... make a deal with them... to get supplies for us to bail...”

“Hmph...” He grunted, circling another stitch through her skin and pulling it taut. “Trade with what? Not like you had much to offer.”

She gasped a little from the pain again, but the overwhelming sensations ebbed away time after time as her senses were getting numbed. She slowly shook her head, and spoke truthfully. “Information... I... I hoped I could get Green and Ashmaker to talk to each other; maybe... maybe get them to make peace... But after what he said that wasn’t an option...”

“Information, huh...?” He looked up to see a few new additions to the looting crew, several of them turning corpses over to loot their pockets, others merely taking clothing scraps from the dead. He nodded his head slowly as he connected the dots. “So you planned to betray Green so we could simply leave?”

“More or less...” She said sourly as he went back to stitching, and finally the last stitch was in place. He tied it off and, with a wet rag, tried to clean some of the blood off the wound. He grumbled lowly to himself, as the wound was in a spot nearly impossible to bandage up, and with the issue of truly sterile tools he hoped that it wouldn’t get infected.

He nodded lightly, and met eyes with her. “What was the plan afterwards? Getting out of town, I mean.”

“Well... find you and go from there, really...”

“Heh... brilliant.”

She looked down at her wound, prodding the skin around it as she inspected it. Eagle was good at sutures it seemed, which made her feel grateful for that at least. She had tried to do it herself, but between her shaky magic, her sudden coughing fits and his insistence, she relented, and with a dirty hoof she took a blood soaked rag and wiped her forehead again. “We would have figured it out...”

“No doubt, but you should have warned me before you left.” He put the needle in the progressively reddening alcohol bowl as he turned his gaze to the bullet and stab wounds in her leg. The stitches he put there were holding, the bleeding stopped, and he nodded as he dipped his claws into the liquor again to clean them.

Sparks merely scoffed a little as she shook her head, and spoke in mutters. “Not that you would have listened...”

“For your information, I would have.” He whispered back, watching as one of the looters left the building to go to the outside. He turned back to her with hard eyes, picking up a roll of gauze bandaging, and continued. “I wasn’t keen on that entire attack in the first place, and were it not for you going in the west gate without an issue I wouldn’t have told Green to speed up the attack. I was...”

Sparks locked eyes with him, realization in her eyes as she glowered. “You mean... you started the attack...?”

“To keep you safe, I couldn’t let Ashmaker use you as leverage or keep you prisoner, and-” Her scoff and cough cut him short as she looked away from him to her side, shaking her head with a pained expression. He would have continued were it not for Green making a sudden appearance as she strolled into the door.

She was wearing Ashmaker’s hat -- that white, pinstripe fedora he was so fond of -- and she looked at Sparks, speaking to Eagle. “She gonna be alright, doc? She took a hell of a beatin’.”

“She’ll live, so long as she doesn’t strain herself. Another potion and some antibiotics might help if your colts can find one.”

“They’re still diggin’ Eagle, hold yer horses.” As Eagle went to wrap her leg as best he could she looked her up and down, trying to look into her eyes and failing as her head was turned. She grinned though, and gave a nod. “Still though, I never woulda thought yah had it in yah, kid. Ashmaker was no joke, his right hoof either.”

Eagle stopped mid-wrap and fixed her with a grim gaze, and he shook his head as Green merely shifted her weight and raised a brow. She tilted her head and gave an oblivious grin as she spoke. “What; who shit in your oats?”

Eagle merely shook his head and finished wrapping her leg up, tying off the excess bandage, and looked for other wounds that needed tending for the third time. He needed to be thorough, and as he stood up he fought with the urge to possibly get them kicked out of town, or worse. Calling out the leader, new or not, wasn’t smart; especially with ganger types, or one with their circumstances.

He didn’t have to make the decision though as Sparks, forcing herself to stand up from the chair with a prodding, inspecting hoof at her bandage, spoke through her pained voice. Her accusing tones brought the truth to light. “Good Neighbor never did kill anypony who came... did they...?”

Green stood there for a moment, and after a time she favored her other set of legs and grinned deeper as she shrugged. “I saw a whole group get cut down myself, trust me on that.”

“The looters say otherwise...” Eagle said, coming to terms with whatever came next. He gestured his head towards one of them in the back of the building as he spoke lowly. “One of your guys prattled off, said that if it wasn’t for you Good Neighbor would still be opened for them.”

“And you expect any chem head in my charge to speak any lick o’ sense, Eagle?” She said, accusingly with a hint of defensiveness, and she sighed as she shook her head; the smile still present. “Seriously, you know the bottom rung ain’t worth their weight for it.”

“What I believe...” Sparks said, coughing a little as she limped to her, covering her mouth with a hoof and trying her best to stand tall “is that you tried to attack the town before, and when that failed you... organized a bigger group to try again. Only...” she limped up further, trying to balance her injured and taxed body “when we showed up you wanted to use us...”

Green gave a single, scoffing laugh as she hung her head slightly, but she raised it as she looked down to her, speaking harshly. “It don’t matter much what yah believe, girl. Last I checked, you needed supplies, and I’m in a position to pay yah back for services rendered. Basic survival oughta educate you on those dynamics.”

“She isn’t interested in ‘Wasteland dynamics’, Green.” Eagle said as he sidled up to Sparks’ side, and took a hostile stance, head held low with his eyes burning beneath his hat’s brim. “Neither am I, truth be told; answers, honesty and all that rot is what were needed.”

Sparks looked over to him with surprise. She didn’t expect that of him, but she returned her eyes to Green. “What he said.”

Green’s eyes darted between them, some lengths of time between the shifts as she nodded slowly. She took a breath and, her smile disappearing, spoke lowly. “Knowing the ‘high and mighty’ nature the two of you had, it left little choice. Not much else would breech these walls besides... ‘specialists’, and the two of you fit the bill.” She licked her lips as she focused on Eagle; hoping to convince him at the least. “You know more than I do of how this town works -- worked, rather -- and you know that any other gang without power isn’t respected.”

Eagle kept a steady gaze, but his slightly trailing eyes betrayed his agreement. She nodded slightly, and continued. “A little gang like the Diyos wasn’t afforded that when I got here, a few of the colts caused a ruckus and we were gunned down without a second thought. A few bystanders were caught in the crossfire, along with the majority of my guys; no justice for crimes rendered by the big hats up top. So I figured I oughta teach them some manners, take their town in the process.”

“So...” Eagle said as he raised his head, his voice dipping into dangerous and accusing tones “you lied to us, roped us into a revenge game for you and your cronies.”

“Well...” she said, cautiously as she grimaced a touch “I wouldn’t put it so... insultingly, but that’s the gist, I suppose. This town needed a lesson, and we managed to give it. We were gettin’ hungry, supplies all low; that’s the truth, and merely a cherry on top for the whole shebang.” She leveled her eyes on Eagle’s, a small smile crossing her lips as she tilted her head. “I’m sure you of all griffons oughta sympathize.”

Eagle merely glowered at her, and after a moment he raised his head weighing the options. But he scoffed dismissively and turned to Sparks with a level gaze. “Alright then, once we get our provisions we’re out of here. Pack your things.”

Sparks barely had time to respond before Green interjected, trying to appeal to them with a nearly pleading voice. “Surely you two could stay for a few days, get her healed up and properly situated before-”

“Look,” Eagle interrupted, his voice dangerously hostile “I don’t give a shit of whatever you’ve got to say; we’re leaving as soon as we get our supplies.”

The look in his eyes betrayed his intentions, and Green, for the first time Sparks had seen her, showed fear. Green backpedaled, but shortly regained her composure, and Eagle spoke again afterwards with a tilt of his head. “And I will never take another job from you again.”

Footnote: Red Eagle Level 22

Sparks Level 6! +21 skill points! Perk earned!

Nerd Rage: Being subjected to do-or-die situations has finally cracked your inhibitions! When at half health you let loose and let them have it, despite whatever your beliefs may be, with +5 Strength!